#surprisingly man is pretty easy to fix

[indexvirus]

Ilberd was so badly communicated in story I'm not even mad anymore. Just disappointed.

Like I hated this man with passion. Mere hearing his voice or seeing his face made my blood boil. At least the Japanese dub makes him more sympathetic, because he speaks calmly, albeit painfully, not just complaining like his English dub sounds like.

But I bought the book and did some digging and wow? He was paid with McChickenNuggets and a sword when he worked as an adventurer to support his family. Man was treated worse than a dog, and he had a family - possibly partner, possibly kid too, I mean, he was 40 years old. Or idk, very nice of him to take care of his elderly parents, I guess - and he lost them to the calamity. Mfs were barbecued by bahamut.

And yeah, Ilberd lost 100% everything, and had nothing to lose anymore. He wanted to take their ashes back home, and when enough people told him "no", he said "fuck it", and backflipped straight to god.

Also. He likes tea. Like he drinks tea. A LOT.

Like excuse me. How about telling this in-game? Sounds like the writing was a little... what's the word... slo--- sorry

[urdreamydoodles]

DC Comics Characters x Fem!OC

You hurt yourself doing home renovations

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Kal-El (Clark Kent), Barry Allen, Diana of Themyscira, Arthur Curry, Hal Jordan, Oliver Queen, John Constantine, Roy Harper, Koriand'r (Starfire), Kara Zor-El (Supergirl), Slade Wilson, Kent Nelson (Dr. Fate), Rachel Roth, Zatanna Zatara & Wally West

Bruce Wayne aka. Batman

- Bruce notices the injury immediately; his sharp, calculating eyes miss nothing. “You’re hurt,” he says, his tone low but with an edge of worry that only someone close to him might detect. He takes your hand gently but firmly, examining the bandage with the practiced ease of someone who’s patched himself up countless times. “What happened?” he asks, his voice even, though his jaw tightens. You explain it was a minor accident during your renovation project, but he doesn’t look convinced.

- Without a word, Bruce retrieves a medical kit and kneels in front of you. His movements are efficient, his touch steady but surprisingly gentle. “This could’ve been worse,” he says as he rewraps the bandage, his voice tinged with a seriousness that makes your heart ache. “You need to be more careful.” It’s not just a suggestion—it’s a command born of a deep fear he rarely voices.

- “I’m helping you finish this,” he declares, standing and rolling up his sleeves. His presence is commanding, as always, and there’s no room for argument. Watching Bruce work is like watching a master strategist; every movement is calculated, every decision deliberate. Despite his seriousness, he pauses occasionally to ask if you’re okay, his concern manifesting in small but meaningful ways.

- As you work together, Bruce’s reserved demeanor softens slightly. He shares stories from his own mishaps at Wayne Manor, a rare glimpse into the man behind the mask. “Alfred still teases me about the time I tried to fix a chandelier,” he says, a faint smile tugging at his lips. It’s in these moments that you see the man behind the Bat—the man who loves you fiercely, even if he struggles to show it.

- That evening, as you sit in the newly completed space, Bruce wraps an arm around your shoulders. “You mean everything to me,” he says quietly, his voice filled with a rare vulnerability. “I can’t lose you.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips warm and firm against your skin. Bruce’s love is steadfast, protective, and unyielding—a shield against the darkness that surrounds him.

Kal-El (Clark Kent) aka. Superman

- Clark’s face falls the moment he notices your injury. “What happened?” he asks, his voice filled with concern. His large, gentle hands take yours, his thumb brushing softly against the bandage. When you explain it was just a small accident during your renovation, his brow furrows in worry. “You should’ve called me,” he says, his voice warm but firm. “I would’ve been here in seconds.”

- He insists on checking your hand, his touch impossibly gentle. “I know it’s not serious, but even small injuries can hurt,” he says, his blue eyes meeting yours with a tenderness that makes your heart swell. As he examines the wound, his movements are deliberate, careful—a reflection of the restraint he always practices to keep his immense strength in check.

- “I’m not letting you finish this alone,” Clark declares, his easy smile returning. Watching him work is a sight to behold—his strength and speed make quick work of the tasks, but he’s careful to include you in the process. “You know, you’re pretty amazing for taking this on yourself,” he says, his admiration clear. “But maybe next time, let me do the heavy lifting.”

- Clark fills the room with his presence, his laughter ringing out as he shares stories of his childhood on the farm. “Pa used to say I could fix anything, but I don’t think he meant it literally,” he jokes, his grin infectious. His positivity is contagious, turning the task into a joyful experience rather than a chore.

- As the day winds down, Clark pulls you into his arms, holding you close as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. “You scared me today,” he admits, his voice soft. “You’re my world, and I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt.” His love is vast and unwavering, a force of nature as steady and comforting as the sun.

Barry Allen aka. Flash

- Barry is at your side before you even realize he’s noticed your injury. “Hey, what’s this?” he asks, his voice tinged with concern as he gently lifts your hand. His blue eyes dart to the bandage, then back to your face. “You’ve been holding out on me, haven’t you?” he teases, but his worry is evident. “How’d this happen?”

- In a blur, he’s retrieved the first aid kit, his hands moving at super-speed to clean and rewrap your wound. “Don’t worry, you’re in good hands,” he says with a wink, though his focus is absolute. Barry’s always been quick—literally and emotionally—but when it comes to you, he takes his time, ensuring every detail is perfect. “You’ve got to let me know when you need help,” he says, his tone soft but sincere.

- “Alright, you’re officially benched,” Barry announces with a grin. “I’m finishing this for you.” He’s a whirlwind of energy as he tackles the project, moving so fast that you can barely keep track. But he makes sure to slow down just enough to include you, cracking jokes and asking your opinion at every step.

- Barry’s lighthearted nature turns the renovation into a fun adventure. “You know, if this whole superhero thing doesn’t work out, I might have a future in carpentry,” he says, laughing as he perfectly aligns a frame in a fraction of a second. His joy is infectious, and you find yourself smiling despite the day’s earlier chaos.

- At the end of the day, Barry pulls you into his arms, his touch warm and reassuring. “You’re my lightning rod,” he says softly, his words carrying the weight of his feelings. “I need you safe, always.” His love is fast and electrifying, but it’s also deeply grounding—a steady current that ties him to you, no matter how quickly the world moves around him.

Diana of Themyscira aka. Wonder Woman

- Diana’s gaze sharpens the moment she sees your bandaged hand. “What happened?” she asks, her voice steady but filled with concern. She moves closer, taking your hand in hers with a warrior’s precision and a lover’s tenderness. When you explain the accident, she frowns, her lips pressing into a determined line. “You should have called for me,” she says, her voice soft but firm.

- She kneels before you, her hands strong yet gentle as she examines your injury. “Even the smallest wounds must be treated with care,” she says, her tone carrying the wisdom of centuries. As she cleans and rewraps the bandage, her movements are deliberate, each one filled with a quiet reverence for your well-being. “Your safety matters to me,” she adds, her eyes meeting yours with unwavering sincerity.

- “Come,” Diana says, rising gracefully to her feet. “We will finish this together.” She takes the lead with effortless strength and grace, her presence commanding yet reassuring. Watching her work is mesmerizing; every movement is precise, every decision thoughtful. “This is good work you’ve started,” she says, her voice warm with pride. “But let me ease your burden.”

- Diana shares stories of Themyscira as you work, her voice rich with history and passion. “On my island, we build with our hands and our hearts,” she says, her smile radiant. “Each task is an opportunity to honor the strength within us.” Her words inspire you, her belief in your capabilities unwavering.

- That evening, Diana draws you into a gentle embrace, her arms strong and protective. “You are precious to me,” she says, her voice a soft melody. “I cannot bear the thought of you in pain.” She presses a kiss to your forehead, her lips lingering as if to seal her vow. Diana’s love is fierce and enduring, a flame that burns brightly and warmly, illuminating every corner of your heart.

Arthur Curry aka. Aquaman

- Arthur notices the bandage on your hand the moment he walks through the door, his sharp, sea-green eyes narrowing in concern. “What happened, love?” he asks, his deep voice steady but tinged with worry. When you explain the accident, he shakes his head with a low chuckle. “You’re as stubborn as the tides, you know that?” he says, though his expression softens as he takes your hand in his rough but gentle grip.

- “Let me see,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. He inspects your injury carefully, his calloused fingers brushing against your skin. “It’s not bad, but you’ve got to be more careful,” he mutters, his voice filled with a protective edge. Arthur’s care is practical, but there’s an underlying tenderness that speaks volumes about how deeply he feels for you.

- “Alright, you’re done for the day,” he declares, folding his arms across his broad chest. “I’ll handle the rest.” Despite your protests, Arthur’s determination is unyielding. Watching him work is a marvel; his strength makes heavy tasks look effortless, but he’s surprisingly meticulous, his movements precise and deliberate. “This is easy compared to wrangling sea monsters,” he teases, flashing you a grin.

- As he works, Arthur regales you with tales of Atlantis, his deep voice resonating like the waves. “Did I ever tell you about the time Mera and I rebuilt the coral spires after a storm?” he asks, his laughter rumbling like distant thunder. His stories are vivid and captivating, his love for his home—and for you—evident in every word.

- That evening, Arthur pulls you into his arms, his embrace as warm and encompassing as the ocean itself. “You scared me,” he admits, his voice low and serious. “You’re my anchor, and I can’t bear to see you hurt.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering as if to soothe away all your worries. Arthur’s love is as vast and enduring as the sea, a force of nature that surrounds and protects you.

Hal Jordan aka. Green Lantern

- Hal’s easygoing demeanor shifts the moment he notices the bandage on your hand. “What’s this?” he asks, his voice filled with concern as he takes your hand gently. His green eyes scan the wound, his expression a mix of worry and amusement. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to play with sharp objects?” he teases, though his grip tightens protectively.

- “Alright, let me play doctor,” he says with a wink, summoning a glowing green construct of a first aid kit. Hal’s touch is careful as he rewraps your bandage, his usual bravado giving way to surprising precision. “You’ve got to be more careful,” he says softly, his tone carrying a weight that shows how much he cares.

- “Looks like I’m your personal handyman today,” Hal declares, conjuring a glowing hammer with a flourish. He tackles the project with his trademark confidence, his constructs turning the mundane task into something almost magical. “See? Easy,” he says, flashing you a cocky grin. “You’ve got the best in the business on your side.”

- As he works, Hal keeps you entertained with his endless banter and larger-than-life stories. “There was this one time on Oa…” he begins, spinning a tale that’s equal parts unbelievable and hilarious. His humor lightens the atmosphere, and his laughter is infectious, making even the simplest moments feel special.

- Later, as you sit together under the soft glow of his ring, Hal wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. “You know, you’re my reason to keep coming back to Earth,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “I don’t want anything happening to you.” His love is like his willpower—unshakable, glowing brightly and guiding you through even the darkest times.

Oliver Queen aka. Green Arrow

- “Whoa, hold up—what happened to your hand?” Oliver asks, his sharp gaze landing on your bandaged injury. Before you can brush it off, he’s already by your side, gently taking your hand in his. “You didn’t think to call me?” he teases, though his voice carries a hint of genuine worry. “I could’ve handled this in no time.”

- He grabs the first aid kit, his hands surprisingly deft as he unwraps and rebandages your wound. “You’ve got to be more careful, beautiful,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “I can’t have you sidelined—you’re my best partner, after all.” His touch is light, but the protective edge in his tone makes it clear how much he cares.

- “Alright, step aside. The Green Arrow is on the job,” Oliver says, flashing you a trademark smirk. Watching him work is an experience in itself—he’s efficient and surprisingly skilled, despite his playful demeanor. “Bet you didn’t know I was handy with a hammer, huh?” he jokes, his grin lighting up the room.

- Oliver keeps the mood light with his constant humor and quick wit. “You know, I once tried to fix a broken bowstring and ended up snapping three more,” he says, laughing at the memory. His charm is irresistible, and he has a way of making even the most tedious tasks feel fun and exciting.

- As the evening winds down, Oliver pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you. “You scared me today,” he admits, his voice low and serious. “I’ve lost enough people in my life—I’m not losing you too.” He kisses your forehead, his lips warm and lingering. Oliver’s love is bold, passionate, and unwavering, a constant in your life that leaves you feeling cherished and protected.

John Constantine aka. Hellblazer

- John notices the injury immediately, his sharp eyes narrowing as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. “What’s this, then?” he asks, his voice a mix of concern and irritation. He steps closer, taking your hand in his surprisingly gentle grip. “Bloody hell, love, you’ve got to take better care of yourself,” he mutters, his usual sarcasm tempered by genuine worry.

- He doesn’t bother with a first aid kit—instead, he mutters a few words in Latin, and a faint glow surrounds your hand. “There, good as new,” he says with a smirk, though his eyes linger on you with a rare softness. “Don’t make me have to fix you up like this again, yeah?” he adds, his tone light but edged with seriousness.

- “Right, let’s see what mess you’ve gotten yourself into,” John says, surveying the unfinished renovation. He rolls up his sleeves and gets to work, grumbling under his breath but surprisingly competent. “Don’t look so shocked—I’m full of surprises,” he says with a wink.

- As he works, John keeps up a steady stream of sardonic commentary and darkly humorous anecdotes. “This reminds me of the time I tried to patch up a hole in my flat’s wall. Ended up summoning a demon instead,” he quips, his dry humor making you laugh despite yourself. His presence, though chaotic, is oddly reassuring.

- Later, as you both sit in the dim light, John lights another cigarette, his gaze softening as he looks at you. “You’ve got to be more careful, love,” he says quietly. “I’ve got enough demons to fight—I don’t need to be worrying about losing you too.” His love is raw, messy, and laced with his own brand of charm, but it’s as real and unshakable as the man himself.

Roy Harper aka. Arsenal

- Roy notices your bandaged hand the moment he steps in. “What the hell happened?” he asks, his voice laced with concern, though his trademark smirk softens the words. He takes your hand gently, his calloused fingers brushing against yours. “You didn’t think to call me? I’m literally a pro at making bad decisions—and patching them up after.”

- “Alright, sit tight,” he says, pulling out a first aid kit with a flourish. His movements are surprisingly precise, honed from years of taking care of himself and others. “This isn’t bad, but next time, maybe call me before you go all DIY warrior,” he jokes, though the worry in his eyes betrays his casual tone.

- Roy insists on helping you finish the project, despite your protests. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you do this alone?” he says, grabbing a hammer with an exaggerated show of confidence. His work is a mix of skill and chaos—he’s good at what he does, but his playful energy keeps things unpredictable.

- As you work together, Roy’s humor keeps you laughing. “You know, I once tried to fix a broken bow. Ended up breaking three more,” he says, grinning at the memory. He’s full of stories, each one more absurd than the last, but they’re all delivered with a charm that makes you forget about the mess around you.

- Later, as you both sit back to admire the (somewhat chaotic) results, Roy pulls you close, his arm slung around your shoulders. “You mean the world to me, you know that?” he says, his voice softer than usual. “Don’t scare me like that again, alright?” His love is messy but wholehearted, a constant reminder that you’re his anchor in a turbulent world.

Koriand’r aka. Starfire

- Kori’s luminous green eyes widen in concern when she sees your bandaged hand. “Oh no, my love, what has happened?” she asks, taking your hand delicately in hers. Her warmth radiates through her touch as she examines the wound. “Does it pain you? Please, tell me how I can help.”

- She gently kisses your hand, her lips soft and glowing faintly. “On Tamaran, we believe healing begins with love,” she says, her voice filled with sincerity. She insists on tending to the injury herself, her movements careful and deliberate. Her concern is almost palpable, her love for you evident in every action.

- Kori is eager to assist with your project, her strength and enthusiasm turning what could have been a chore into an exciting adventure. “Let us work together,” she says, her smile bright enough to light up the room. Watching her lift heavy beams effortlessly and handle tools with childlike curiosity is both impressive and endearing.

- As you work side by side, Kori shares stories of her home planet. “On Tamaran, we build homes with our families, singing songs of unity and joy,” she says, her voice rich with nostalgia. Her passion for her culture and her desire to share it with you make the task feel meaningful and connected.

- At the end of the day, Kori pulls you into her embrace, her warmth enveloping you like sunlight. “You are my heart,” she says softly, her glowing eyes meeting yours. “I cannot bear the thought of you in pain.” She kisses your forehead tenderly, her love as radiant and boundless as the stars she comes from.

Kara Zor-El aka. Supergirl

- Kara’s superhuman senses catch your injury before you even try to hide it. “Wait—what happened to your hand?” she asks, her tone a mix of concern and mild panic. She’s by your side in an instant, her blue eyes scanning your bandage with laser-like focus. “You didn’t think to call me? I could’ve been here in a second!”

- She insists on checking your injury, her touch gentle despite her immense strength. “It’s not too bad, but I’m still worried,” she admits, biting her lip as she adjusts the bandage. “Next time, promise me you’ll let me help, okay?” Her voice is firm but filled with a tenderness that makes your heart melt.

- Kara takes over the renovation project with her usual enthusiasm, zipping around at super-speed to get things done. “This is so much easier than stopping meteors,” she jokes, flashing you a bright smile. Despite her incredible abilities, she makes sure to include you, asking for your input and slowing down to let you participate.

- As you work, Kara shares stories of Krypton, her voice filled with a mixture of sadness and pride. “Back home, we had machines to do most of this,” she says, a wistful smile crossing her face. “But I think there’s something special about doing it with your own hands—especially when it’s for someone you love.”

- Later, Kara wraps you in a warm hug, her strength carefully restrained but her affection boundless. “You’re my connection to this world,” she says softly, resting her forehead against yours. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Her love is like sunlight—pure, strong, and life-giving, a constant source of warmth and light in your life.

Slade Wilson aka. Deathstroke

- Slade notices your injury immediately, his single eye narrowing as he steps closer. “What happened?” he asks, his voice low and commanding. He takes your hand in his gloved one, his touch surprisingly gentle as he examines the bandage. “You’ve been careless,” he says, though his tone carries more concern than reprimand.

- Without a word, Slade pulls out a compact medical kit, his movements precise and efficient. “You should have called me,” he mutters, his focus entirely on your wound. “I don’t like seeing you hurt.” His care is methodical, almost clinical, but the way his fingers linger just slightly on your skin betrays his deeper feelings.

- Slade insists on taking over the renovation, his natural leadership coming through as he assesses the task. “Stand back,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. Watching him work is like watching a soldier in action—every movement calculated, every decision deliberate. “This isn’t my first time fixing something broken,” he quips, his dry humor catching you off guard.

- As he works, Slade shares fragments of his past, his gravelly voice tinged with a rare vulnerability. “This reminds me of when I used to build things with my son,” he says, his expression briefly softening. The glimpses of his humanity remind you of the man beneath the hardened exterior, the man who loves you in his own quiet, fierce way.

- Later, Slade pulls you close, his arm heavy and protective around your shoulders. “You’ve got to be more careful,” he says, his voice a low growl. “I’ve lost too much already—I’m not losing you.” He kisses your forehead briefly but firmly, his love intense and unyielding, like the man himself—a force that shields you from the world’s dangers, even as he battles his own demons.

Kent Nelson aka. Doctor Fate

- Kent’s piercing eyes behind the shimmering Helmet of Fate immediately fixate on your injured hand. “What have you done, my love?” he asks, his voice a blend of the mystical and the concerned. Without hesitation, he removes the helmet, his human side taking precedence. His hands, warm and steady, gently cradle yours as he inspects the wound.

- “This is a simple injury,” he murmurs, his voice calm but resolute. “But even the smallest wounds can lead to chaos if left untended.” A golden light surrounds his hand as he softly incants an ancient spell. The pain fades, replaced by a soothing warmth, though Kent remains watchful. “You must remember, you are precious to me beyond measure.”

- When he sees the half-finished renovation, Kent sighs softly. “It seems I have another task to tend to,” he says with a faint smile. With a wave of his hand, the room begins to shift and transform, guided by his mystical prowess. “Though I prefer to use magic sparingly, I believe this situation calls for a touch of Fate,” he teases lightly.

- As the room repairs itself under his guidance, Kent tells you stories of the endless mystic realms he has traversed. “In the realm of Amathur, they build their homes from living crystal, attuned to their souls,” he says, his voice carrying the weight of eons. His stories are mesmerizing, painting a picture of a universe far beyond your imagination.

- That evening, as the golden glow of his magic fades, Kent pulls you close, his mortal and immortal selves blending seamlessly in his affection for you. “You ground me, even amidst the chaos of the cosmos,” he whispers. “Do not let harm come to you, for you are my anchor to this world.” His love is profound and eternal, like the ancient forces he commands.

Rachel Roth aka. Raven

- Rachel notices the bandage immediately, her dark, violet eyes narrowing. “What happened?” she asks, her voice calm but laced with quiet concern. She steps closer, her fingers brushing against yours lightly. “You didn’t think to tell me?” she adds, her tone carrying just a hint of exasperation masked by worry.

- A soft, dark aura emanates from her hands as she murmurs a healing spell. “Let me take away the pain,” she says softly, her magic soothing the injury. “But next time, be more careful.” Her words are firm, but the tenderness in her actions speaks volumes about her love for you.

- Rachel insists on helping with the renovation, though her approach is unconventional. Using her magic, she levitates tools and materials, fixing everything with an eerie precision. “Why struggle when there’s an easier way?” she quips, a rare hint of humor gracing her usually serious demeanor.

- As she works, Rachel shares pieces of her past, her voice quiet but steady. “I used to dream of having a home like this—something stable, something real,” she admits. Her vulnerability in those moments is a reminder of the strength it takes for her to let you in, to allow herself to love and be loved.

- Later, as the room takes on a serene, almost otherworldly perfection, Rachel sits with you in the quiet. “I’m not used to caring this much,” she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper. “But you… you’ve shown me that it’s okay to let someone in.” Her love is deep and shadowed, like the magic she wields—powerful, transformative, and utterly consuming.

Zatanna Zatara aka. Zatanna

- “What’s this?” Zatanna asks, her sharp blue eyes immediately noticing your bandaged hand. She sets down her wand and takes your hand in hers, her touch warm and gentle. “You’ve been playing with tools without supervision, haven’t you?” she teases, though her concern is clear.

- “Let me fix this,” she says with a wink. She waves her hand, her words spoken backward as a soft, golden light surrounds your injury. “Esael ruoy niaP,” she says, and the pain dissipates. “Much better,” she adds with a playful smile. “But seriously, call me next time.”

- Zatanna insists on finishing the renovation with you, though her methods are far from ordinary. “Why use a hammer when you have magic?” she says, summoning tools and materials with a flick of her wrist. The room transforms under her guidance, every detail touched with a bit of theatrical flair.

- As she works, Zatanna keeps you entertained with stories of her performances and her magical adventures. “There was this one time in Paris where my spell accidentally turned an entire café into a circus,” she says, laughing. Her humor and charisma make even the mundane feel magical, her presence a constant source of joy.

- That night, as the newly restored room glows with a faint magical shimmer, Zatanna pulls you into her arms. “You’re my favorite audience,” she says softly, her voice filled with affection. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, okay?” Her love is vibrant and enchanting, a spell that binds you to her in the most wonderful way.

Wally West aka. Flash

- Wally zips into the room and immediately notices your hand. “Whoa, whoa, whoa—what happened here?” he asks, his words coming almost as fast as he moves. He’s by your side in an instant, gently taking your injured hand in his. “Why didn’t you call me? I could’ve been here in seconds!”

- He rushes to grab a first aid kit, moving so quickly you barely see him leave. “You’ve got to be more careful,” he says as he carefully rewraps your bandage. Despite his speed, his touch is gentle, his eyes full of concern. “Promise me you’ll let me help next time, okay?”

- Wally insists on finishing the renovation, his super-speed turning the task into a blur of activity. “This is easy,” he says with a grin, fixing things faster than you can even follow. “But hey, don’t blink—you might miss my best work!” His enthusiasm is infectious, making the entire process feel like a game.

- As he works, Wally keeps you laughing with his endless jokes and stories. “Did I ever tell you about the time I outran a black hole?” he says, his grin widening. His energy is boundless, his humor a constant source of lightness and joy in your life.

- Later, as the room stands perfectly completed, Wally pulls you close, his usual hyperactivity giving way to a rare moment of stillness. “You’re my world,” he says softly, his voice steady and sincere. “I can’t imagine life without you.” His love is like his speed—unstoppable, all-encompassing, and always rushing to your side.

[ifonlyyuweremine]

Call of Christmas

Aka the holiday season with 141

COD characters x F reader (One shots!) + smut

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧

Captain John Price smut

You hurriedly raced through chores, much like being put on a continuous autopilot. Throw the tabs of detergent into the laundry while making sure to separate the light and dark clothes. Put the leftover dishes from the sink inside the dishwasher, vacuum up the collecting fuzz that started to gather on the carpet, and so on.

However, the most important task was yet to be done. Pushed to the edge of your to-due list and collect dust.

Wrapping the presents.

Dear lord. Where would you even start, not only was gift wrapping the most tedious task on earth but most of the time it had a 98% chance of going wrong.

How could such a jolly and festive activity as simply wrapping a gift turn into the worst part of the holiday season? In your case, surprisingly easily.

It was a guessing game on your part, to figure out which wrapping paper to adorn a present in (different wrapping paper for different people of course). Cut the perfect measurements for said gift, and wrap it in some way that would look presentable.

Almost every time you would screw up the last two steps, the cutting and wrapping. You would either cut way too much paper or not enough to cover the gift. And when you finally did get an acceptable length the paper would fold every which way and the tape wouldn't hold it down.

Now, why not go with the simple fix of putting it inside of a gift bag? The short answer was that it was the lazy man's way out.

And this year you were determined to make it work. Your husband John always teased you about your passion for the holidays, but what could you say? You were a driven woman.

So you found yourself near the end of the day sitting inside the living room of your house. A diverse spread of gifts scattered around you beside poles of wrapping paper, tape, scissors, and rulers.

The soft thrum of Christmas music playing in the background for motivation. You were especially proud of the gifts you had gotten this year. One for each of your friends, close family, and John. Having a good gift for him was something to behold on its own. Gift shopping for the man was like pulling out teeth.

“Why would I want anything? I pretty much have everything I need…”

“I’m okay love, don't bother with me…”

“I don't want anything, maybe some socks or something…”

John's words echoed in your ear, but you weren't giving up that easily. This year, you landed on a nice silver watch with a leather band. The one he wore was…distressed to say the least.

So, this seemed like a great choice. You smiled down at the small box that held his new watch. John would love anything you got him, even if it was a scrap of metal he would give you his teddy bear smile and shower you with praise.

But this year you were particularly proud of your choice.

And with the newfound motivation you started on wrapping. You did your best to cut accurate ratios of paper to present, fold it as crisply as you could, and tape it down so it stuck. Somehow, by the grace of God, you found yourself getting into a sort of rhythm.

You looked at work after an hour in, in awe of the fact that it wasn't that bad. Actually, it was nearly perfect! These looked like real gifts, like the ones you'd see in those Christmas catalogs sitting under an 11-foot-tall tree.

You smiled, only one gift left to go. Lo and behold it was John’s gift. The small blue box that hid his watch, looked so menial. You sighed and stretched, easy peasy.

Or so you thought.

That little blue box might as well have been possessed by a Christmas-hating demon.

You huffed, silently cursing at yourself as you accidentally ripped the wrapping paper while you were trying to tape it down. This had been your fifth attempt at wrapping his gift, and every time something had gone wrong.

You stared down at it in disbelief, nearly in tears of frustration. There the box sat, laughing at your feeble attempts at wrapping it.

Just as you were about to go for attempt number six, you heard the chime of the front door opening. It was John.

Like a flash, you pushed the box under the couch until it was out of sight. It was a surprise after all. Just as you turned back around John appeared in all his glory. Slack jeans with his cotton t-shirt and his ruggedly handsome face. His eyebrows raised at the scene before him.

“Love, I think you're supposed to wrap the gifts, not get into a fight with them.” He said, bemused.

You felt your already hot cheeks redden, looking at the mess of wrapping paper around you. It did kind of look like a war scene with the addition of glitter and ribbon. Letting out an exasperated sigh you looked back up at him. “Would you believe me if I told you they started it?”

John's lips curved up into a soft smile that raised his mutton chops. And you couldn't help your heart from swooning at the way his mustache smiled with him. He chuckled and stepped into the room, crouching in front of you to slide a hand across your cheek. Pulling you in for a warm, chaste kiss. Your frustration slightly ebbed away, yet the lingering annoyance remained. John seemed to notice it and gave you a funny look as he pulled away.

“What's wrong?” He said knowing.

Curse him, he knew you too well. You knew giving him a bad lie wouldn't do much so you sighed. “It’s the gifts, I was doing so well wrapping everything but I got to yours and it didn't seem to want to cooperate with me. And well, you can see how it played out.” You breathed, nodding to the mess around you.

John raised an eyebrow, “why not just give it to me as is?” He asked, confused. To which you rolled your eyes as his practicality, typical.

“That’s not the point. Making presents look nice is a labor of love, it shows I care to make it look presentable.” You defended your point, making him shake his head and smile warmly. A fondness in his eyes as he looked at you.

“Baby, you know I know that you care about me. I don't need wrapping paper to prove that.” He said, his other hand guiding yours to his mouth to press his lips over your ring.

You pursed your lips in a tight line, trying not to let him melt your resolve into a sappy puddle. “Yeah, but it's still a nice gesture.” You grumbled, eyes darting away from his gaze.

You heard the familiar thrum of his laugh echo in your ears. You turned your eyes back to look at him as he pressed a kiss to your temple, “Thank you for trying love. You know I’d like anything you’d give me. But having you is all I need.” You couldn't help the smile that crept up on your cheeks.

For being such an intimidating person and having the reputation he did, he could really be a sap sometimes. Not that you'd have it any other way. His loving nature was a gift in itself.

You hummed and leaned in to kiss him again, his lips meeting yours in a soft embrace. Slowly you pulled him in, hands snaking around his neck to cup the back of his head. He tasted of tobacco and whiskey, not the bitter kind, but the warm fragrant kind. Almost like a spicy cocktail, one that burned at first sip but settled in your stomach.

It was almost second nature when you kissed him. Like your body craved the feeling of being fitted against his larger form. And when his tongue slid over your bottom lip, practically begging for entrance, you had no choice but to oblige.

The soft hum of Christmas jazz still lulled in the background, dulling your senses like sweet syrup. John’s tongue delved into your mouth, the slow rhythmic motion of his lips turning the thoughts in your head to static. His large hands slowly traveled down to your waist, his thumb pressing against the bone of your hip. Without warning his hands suddenly airlifted you up and onto the couch. You gave a small squeak of surprise, breaking the kiss.

“John wha-” You were cut off by another steaming kiss.

After a minute he pulled away, hot breath fanning against your lips. “You were working so hard, figured I'd give you a thank you.” His sly smile told you everything you needed to know. And if they didn’t, the way his hands slid down to grope on your ass did.

Your cheeks burned, and another type of heat bellowed in your stomach. Sending small sparks across your spine. “It's just wrapping a gift, and I didn't even finish yours.” You said sheepishly.

John rolled his eyes, his head dipping down to trail kisses over your neck. “What was it you said before? That it’s about the gesture or principle of it all?” He murmured, large hands kneading your behind. His words made your lips turn up into a smile. To be honest…you could use a break, and this opportunity was one you’d never turn down.

A small giggle escaped you, rolling your eyes at his persistence. “I guess I’ll take that ‘thank you’ then.”

Turning his head back up, he gave you a wolfish grin. The large hands that previously held your behind slid up to hook the hem of your top. With one fluid movement, he coaxed your arms above your head and slipped your blouse off. Then with just as much sneakiness, he undid the clasp of your bra. Tossing the offending garment somewhere else in the room.

Without a moment to lose, his mouth was on your breasts. You shuddered at his warm wet tongue and the way it danced around your nipple. The scruff of his facial hair tickles Your chest.

Your hands threaded into his hair, pulling and guiding him where you wanted. With every small tug or grasp he groaned, enthralled by the way you led him. From where you were sitting, John knelt at the edge of the couch between your spread legs. Hands gripping at your hips as he suckled at your peaks. “So beautiful baby-” He rasped, “-fucking love this gorgeous body.”

Your lips pushed into a tight line, exhaling through your nose. John’s hands migrated down to grab onto your pants, tugging them down slowly. You helped him slip them off until the only thing covering you was your cotton panties. An embarrassingly obvious wet patch now soaking through its fabric.

John’s thumb gently grazed over your clothed center. Earning a soft moan on your part, the pad of his finger sending a jolt of heat through you. His navy eyes flickered up to you as his thumb slowly circled your covered clit. “Tell me what you want sweetness.” He murmured.

You had trouble processing his words for a moment. “I want your fingers, John.” You breathed, looking down at the man on his knees for you.

The corner of his lip turned up, “Yes mam.” Slowly he pulled your panties to the side, exposing your glistening core. You saw his adams apple bob as he stared at you, like he wanted to devour you alive.

With his middle and ring finger, he dragged them through your lips. Coating the skin in a layer of slick, the lewd sound of it makes your ears turn red. “Look at this wet pussy, so needy.” John gruffed. With no warning, he gently pushed his middle inside you. Your walls constricted around him like a hungry snake.

Your lips fell open in an ‘oh shape, whimpering at the burning goodness of his finger. “Fuckfuckfuck-” You panted, the muscles in your legs flexing as you tensed.

With ease, he pushed his ring finger into you as well. Falling into a slow rhythm of pumping his fingers in and out of you coupled with his thumb brushing over your clit. Your brain felt foggy, like how a bathroom mirror fogs up when you take a hot shower. John watched you like a hawk, studying your every movement to see if you were enjoying it.

“John, need your cock now.” You panted breathlessly, impatient for your husband. He gave you an amused look, keeping his fingers at a steady pace.

“You sure?” He asked, bemused. “-I can wait sweetheart.” But you shook your head, desperate for the stretch of his dick.

You blinked and gave him a look, “I'm not asking.” You replied. Making him chuckle, his fingers sliding out of you and leaving an empty feeling in their wake. He stood up, tugging off his shirt and unzipping his trousers. All the while, you watched like it was your favorite TV show. Your eyes drank in his muscles, he was built for fighting, that was for sure.

His pants shrugged down as he pulled his briefs away with it. His large bulbous cock sprang free, the sight almost making you drool. John smiled at you as he wrapped a calloused hand around it, stroking. “Makin’ me feel special when you look at me like that.” He said, giving his dick a few more pumps of his hand.

He nodded at you, “Go ahead and lay back, I want to look at your face when I make you cum.” He said, the words ringing in your ears. You tried not the let the giddy smile show on your face as you nodded and fell back against the cushions. Hastily, he climbed up on the couch, caging you in with his body. Hands planted on either side of your head.

He gave you a knowing smile before using one hand to guide his cock against your slit. Slowly dragging it up and down, making your breath hitch. Fireworks already going off inside your brain.

He leaned back a tad, using his other free hand to stroke your thigh, patting it lightly. “Come on, raise these for me love, want them on my shoulders.” You did as you were told, hiking your legs up on his shoulders. His head was encased by the meat of your thighs and the tip of his cock pushed against your aching hole.

With John’s guidance, he slowly pushed into you. The entrance of his thick cock fills up every crevice in your walls, making you moan. He was right there with you, “bloody hell-” he grit out. His voice was strained and thick like syrup.

“Tell me-” He panted, “-Tell me I can move. Please.” He breathed, voice barely above a whisper. You swallowed, your body burned and ached, yet it felt so good at the same time. And you craved more of it. So much more.

You nodded, “Yes, please.” Per your request, John slowly started to move his hips. His hands are placed on either side of your head and your thighs are locked around his head. The further he pushed into you the more you felt like being folded in half.

Slowly, his cock dragged in and out of your walls only to plunge back in. You moaned and threw your head back into the cushions, a shivering running through you. Every time his thick tip pressed against the spongy bundle of nerves deep inside you, your walls tightened as if to hold him in.

“Fuck, that's it- so tight and wet, like this pussy was made for me.” John groaned, steadily increasing the speed and force of his thrusts. Every time he pushed himself back in you felt like seeing stars. The delicious pleasure of feeling his girthy dick drag against your walls and stuff you full was something you could never get used to. Every time it felt a new shade of amazing.

Soon, his thrusts had gone from slow and drawn out to fast-paced slaps of skin against skin. Your hands dragged against his back, leaving trails of red lines in their wake.

A familiar coil began to burn in your stomach, tightening by the minute. Your head was swimming as you let him mold you to the shape of his cock. “John- can’t hold it, I'm gonna cum soon.” You sputtered.

His response was to only increase the force of his thrusts. Snaking a hand down to your clit and rubbing his thumb in circles around the sensitive bud. You jolted, clamping down around him which in turn caused him to twitch and pulse. “S’okay love I know, I'm right there with you. Let me make you cum, cum on my cock.” He moaned.

The white-hot pleasure turned to burning magma as he played with your clit. Waves of euphoria crashing down on you like a violent tide. Your pussy spasmed and your body went taunt like a bow. John fucked you through it until his orgasm took hold of him. His cock twitched and his hips stuttered, flooding your walls with thick ropes of cum. After a few more forceful thrusts he let up, holding you still as you both came down from the high.

A few seconds later he slid out of you, carefully lowering your legs off his shoulders. “Merry Christmas love.” He breathed with a wolfish smile, a hint of humor in his voice. You hummed, blinking your eyes open just as he pressed a warm kiss to your temple.

A soft chuckle escaped you, still caught in the afterglow. Your hands gently carded through his slightly tousled hair, “Merry Christmas John.”

He smiled, raising his head to look around. Unsurprisingly the room was still a mess of wrapping paper and ribbon. “Guess it falls on me to clean this up eh?” He said knowingly.

You smiled back, “Yep.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧

Simon Ghost Riley Hurt-comfort

For most, Christmas time was a season of giving. It meant spending time with the ones you loved and putting the cheer back into the more depressing months of winter. It also meant engaging in bonding activities like ice skating or decorating the tree for Christmas, maybe even baking cookies.

For others, including Simon Riley, Christmas was a bitter reminder of what they lacked. It wasn't a cookie-cutter checklist for everyone, but the brunt of it was a lack of Christmas cheer, connection, or lack of loved ones to spend the holidays with. And for Simon, it was all three.

Out of every holiday, Christmas was a loathsome one. It felt as if everyone in the world was brimming with happiness while he was cast out into the dark. Like dangling a shiny new toy in a dog's face knowing that said toy would never be given to it.

So what did he do? What he does best. He closed himself off from the world. During the holiday season, Simon often felt more Ghost than he felt like Simon. After all, it was easier to disassociate and pretend he was Ghost again than to face the bitter memories that Simon went through.

But this year was different, why? Because this year he was spending Christmas with you.

It took a lot of convincing on your end, but he eventually settled for spending the week through Christmas at your flat. Which for him, was a big step. He had stayed over multiple times and vice versa, but considering he never spent Christmas with anyone was saying a lot.

It wasn't even until a year ago that Simon told you the whole story of why he disliked Christmas. By that time both of you had mutually understood that your relationship had shifted from casual dating to a more long-term and serious one.

So now you were determined to make this Christmas a good experience for him. Which turned out to be no easy task. But for your boyfriend, there wasn't anything you weren't willing to do.

It started with small festive activities like taking him to a park to see the Christmas lights. Or letting him pick out the shirt that he had been eyeing as an early gift. Your personal favorite had been getting him to help set up and decorate the small Christmas tree you kept in the living room.

Slowly but surely, he was beginning to assimilate with the Christmas spirit. You had even managed to get him to sit down and watch Home Alone!

Things were finally starting to look up…until now. Christmas Eve.

It was as if all the progress you had made vanished in an instant. Almost like he turned into a Ghost. He had barely said a word to you, didn't want to go out, wasn't eating, and was avoiding you. Simon was hauled up in your room and had been there for most of the day. The only time he had gone out was to smoke from your doorstep. Despite your comments about not liking his smoking or coming inside and eating he brushed it off with a grunt.

He had effectively barricaded himself in his mind. And you were sick of it, sick of the secrets, the going non-verbal with little to no explanation, and sick of the fact that he didn't trust you enough to tell you what was going on in his head.

Enough was enough, so you walked up to your bedroom door and knocked a few times. As expected there was no answer, so you pushed it open. Greeting you was Simon, sitting on the edge of your bed, looking down at his skull mask. You had only seen it a few times, not wanting to invade his privacy. Simon was a large proponent of keeping his work and personal life separate.

And why wouldn't he? His work was violent, it was the worst of what humanity had to offer. And you were none of those things. He mentioned to you once that his mask allowed him to be someone else, so that way when he did come back from deployments Simon wasn't the one with blood on his hands.

In other words, to your understanding, the mask was a mentality. A place holder that could do things that the Simon you knew couldn't.

You bit down on the inside of your cheek, carefully making your way over. You climbed up on the bed behind him, till you were knelt facing his large back. Gently you slid your hands around his waist, pressing the side of your face to his spine in a soft hug. You swallowed, an underlying nervousness boiling deep inside you.

“Please talk to me, I can't know how to help if you don't tell me.” You whispered into him, a soft plead.

He didn't respond for a good minute, and a part of you feared that he was just going to brush you off like before. Eventually, he did respond, except it wasn't the response you wanted. “I think I should go back to my place in Manchester. Just for a few days.”

You frowned, this wasn't what you wanted. Not at all. You had been making such good progress too, you didn't understand how it could all reverse in a second. “Simon that's not fair, you at least need to tell me why. You've been silent all day and now you want to leave? You promised you'd stay until Christmas was over.”

Simon turned a bit to look at you, shrugging your hands off of him. The warm look he always had when he looked at you now long gone. “I know what I said. But I told you that I don't spend the holidays with anyone, you knew that.”

Your hands bawled on your thighs, “But- just yesterday you were fine. I don't understand what changed.” You said eyebrows knitting together.

His eyes narrowed, “Then have you considered maybe I just don't want to be around you?” He said, his tone harsh and unforgiving. A knife to your heart. You stared at him in silence, shocked that he would say something like that so brazenly.

Your lips pursed into a thin line, trying to regain your composure. “If you don't want to be around me then tell me, don't ignore me for half the day like a child.” The hands that held his skull mask tightened, bunching up the fabric in his grip.

“Alright, I'm sorry. Happy now?” Simon couldn't have been less sincere even if he tried. Yet another stab to your chest.

You shook your head no, “Of course I'm not happy. You're not telling me anything, I’m trying to listen and understand you but you're just shutting me out. It's like you barely trust me at all.” You said sternly.

Simon pinched the bridge of his nose. You watched how his face scrunched in irritation, the bags under his eyes sticking out like a sore thumb. “I do trust you, but…I’m just not ready.” He said irritably.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “Not ready? Not ready for what?”

“For you, for this-” Simon snapped, gesturing to the air around him. “-fucking caring about somebody. Because every time I have it’s ended up like shite, I don't even know if I can. Or if I ever will.” He said, his voice brimming with a flurry of emotions. Ones you couldn't decipher, but you were still hung up on the meaning of his words. You knelt there, a cold wave washing over you that felt like ice.

He went on, “You shouldn't even want what I am [Name]. I know you think you do but you don't.”

You shook your head, a lump developing in your throat. “Yes, I do-” You tried weakly, your limbs starting to numb up and grow cold.

Simon stood up, turning his back to you. Walking over to the large overnight bag he had packed, kneeling, and started to take clothes that were scattered near it and shove them inside. You felt your stomach drop, clambering off the bed to stop him. Grabbing onto his suitcase and ripping it away to keep it behind your back.

“Simon tell me what’s going on.” You demanded, your voice suddenly raw.

Simon's eyes were wide, the brown pools of warmth replaced by a dark abyss. Looking up at you with surprise and anger. He stood up, towering over you with his massive frame. Almost like an intimidation tactic. He looked scary.

Slowly he outstretched an open palm, deadly silent. “I'm not going to ask you again, give me my things.”

You shook your head, taking a few steps back until you were pressed against your closet door. Blinking away tears into the back of your head, “No. Tell me what’s going on.” Your hands holding his suitcase with an iron grip behind your back.

His eyebrows furrowed, jaw working in frustration. The veins in his neck tensed for a moment. Almost without thinking his outstretched hand seized forward to grasp your arm, yanking you away from the wall with an alarming force. The suitcase dropped on the floor as he tore you away and you stumbled forward.

You made a noise, one akin to the sound a small animal would make before it was eaten. His grip on your arm was hard by any means, but the minute you made eye contact with him again he broke off. His hand released you like he had been burned by a hot iron, terror written across his face.

He looked more horrified than you did, looking between you and his hand like it was somebody else’s. The silence between you was so loud it rang in your ears.

You felt something wet trail down your cheeks. When did you start crying? You didn't know. You looked back at your boyfriend, he had looked so big before but now he only looked scared. You raised your hands as if you were approaching a wild animal. “Simon-” You breathed, “-It’s okay. I'm okay, you didn't hurt me.”

He didn't say anything, basically frozen in time. You walked up to him, praying he didn't walk back. Thankfully, he didn't. Gently, you cupped his face, forcing him to look down at you. “Please.” You pleaded, “-Tell me whats going on. That's all I ask, if you still want to go after, you can.” You breathed hoarsely.

You watched his face, how it was so full of uncertainty and fear. His bottom lip quivered lightly, “I’m so sorry.” He said, “-I didn't mean…I wasn't thinking.”

You gently rubbed a thumb over his cheek, trying to soothe him to the best of your ability. “I know you didn't mean to, you're not your dad Simon. I'm not worried about that, what I am worried about is you just getting up and leaving because you decided that I don't matter to you anymore.” You said, trying to remain firm to the best of your ability. Even when your voice was quivering and you felt like sobbing.

Simon shook his head, “What? Of course, you matter to me.” He breathed, shaky hands still at his side.

“Well, that's not what it looks like from my perspective. You just said you wanted to leave, you said you didn't think you could ever fully care about me.” You said, looking up at him.

His eyes scanned your face, “I know I'm sorry- I'm… fuck love, I'm scared. I'm scared of caring about you as much as I do, whenever I do it just…” He swallowed, “My mom, and Tommy…they're gone and I can't get them back, and if you leave I have nothing. Because you took everything,” He breathed.

“-You already have me, every part of me that I wanted you to see and every part of me that I don't. And that scares the shite out of me, and I try to keep pushing and pushing but you keep coming back to me.” You felt his hands on your face, large calloused palms warm against your cheeks. “Because that's just how you are, you're good. And I thought by creating more distance you'd see that.”

You opened your mouth but he cut you off, “-And this week you worked so hard, just for me. To give me a good experience,” Simon laughed bitterly. “And here I am, barely keeping my shite together.”

You frowned, “Simon.” You cut him off, your voice stern. He stopped, looking at you. “You don't tell me what I can and can't do, nobody does but me. So if you think you have any chance of convincing me to leave you're mad. I want this, I want you. No matter what baggage you come with.”

There was a moment of silence, filled with a thick tension that you could cut with a knife before he pulled you in. Pressing your face against his chest, cradling your head against him. Holding you tight as if you'd disappear if he let go. Your hands wrapped around his back, digging into the cotton of his shirt and inhaling his scent. One of cigarette smoke and pine. His face pressed into the top of your head.

It was intimate, emotions running high, and the force of his embrace. For a while, you stayed that way, grounded by the large arms that held you to his chest. “I’m so sorry, I should've told you from the beginning.” He whispered into the top of your head, his voice that of genuine remorse.

You knew that this wasn't the end all be all of his problems. Just because he addressed things did not mean everything was magically solved. But it was a big step in the right direction. You maneuvered your head up to look at him, chin pressed against his chest.

“I told you that I wanted to make this a good Christmas, for both of us.” You said, “-If you'll let me, I think we can still make the most of it.”

Simon stared at you, his lips settling in a relieved smile. “Yeah.” He breathed, “I wouldn't have it any other way.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧

Kyle Gaz Garrick Fluff

Your room was a complete mess. Clothes were thrown about like a tornado had taken your closet and dispensed its content for everyone to see. But the state of your room was the last thing you could focus on. Because you had thirty minutes until your neighbor two doors down would pick you up for a date.

You felt your cheeks just redden at the thought. A date! Especially with your very hot and very out-of-your-league neighbor Kyle.

You groaned, tossing yet another shirt on your bed. Nothing seemed to fit as it should've, what was one even supposed to wear on a date? It was December so obviously crop tops and shorts were off-limits. You nervously chewed on your nails, cursing at yourself immediately after for forgetting they were painted.

As you slipped on something acceptable (a nice pair of jeans and a coat), you made a beeline for your bathroom. You looked in the mirror, taking a few minutes to look over your makeup for the umpteenth time. Then moving over to fix your hair, tweaking it here and there, and maybe smoothing out the few strays.

You didn't even understand how you got into this predicament, it was all a blur. Kyle had just gotten back from deployment, a normal occurrence, and being the good neighbor you were, you brought him food. (Who wants to cook after they just get home from a long trip anyway?) And being the gentleman he was, he invited you inside. However, due to your inability to act normally around hot men, you panicked and refused.

Swearing up and down that he was probably exhausted and didn't need you to disturb his peace and quiet. You cringed just imaging how red your face must've been.

Instead of taking the hint like a normal person, he doubled down.

“Oh, okay then, why don't you let me take you out sometime as a thank you?”

After that, you were too stunned to say anything so you just shut up and nodded your head. And now you're here, standing in front of the mirror fretting over your appearance like a teenage girl.

You had zero idea where he was taking you. Which, in theory, was cute. But you were so anxiety-ridden that you couldn't find the time to look into it. And just as you were clumsily slipping on your shoes you heard the dreaded knock on your front door. You whirled through your apartment, opening the door with a little (a lot) too much force.

Standing there like a male supermodel was Kyle. Clad in worn-out jeans that he somehow pulled off, a flannel, and a jacket. He smiled, his perfect teeth adding to his handsome charm. “Hey,” He said, looking at you up and down. “-You look great as always.”

You wanted to die, just looking at him was like staring at a beacon of light. But for the sake of your social skills, you forced yourself to respond. “Thanks-” You breathed, trying to smile as normally as you could. “-Uhm you look great too.”

Kyle smiled, the dimples in his cheeks growing more prominent. “Thanks, I appreciate it, love.” He said, looking behind you and then back to you. “-I’m ready when you are, but take your time. We’re not in a rush.” He said casually, hands in his jean pockets.

You nodded, “Oh right- let me just grab my purse.” You breathed, doing a 360 to run back to your kitchen counter and swipe your bag from off the surface. Quickly making a run back towards him, stepping outside “Ready!” You said, trying to work up as much confidence as you could. To which Kyle chuckled, reaching behind you to close the door.

After the initial stress of stepping out the door, Kyle led you out of the complex. To which the subtle awkwardness faded into a comfortable conversation. It was easier with him than with most, it had always been. You'd always had an underlying crush on him but you never actually thought it'd go anywhere. You were more comfortable just looking and making friendly small talk than actively perusing.

After a few minutes of conversation and walking about the town he stopped a few feet away from a large tent. Christmas lights strone about and small lines of people waiting to get inside. And it instantly clicked what he was taking you to do.

“Ice skating?” You asked.

Kyle gave you a boyish grin back, “Yep.” He said confidently, “-thought it matched the Christmas spirit.”

You laughed, to be honest, you hadn't stepped onto an ice rink in a while. You'd never been terrible at it but you weren't exactly a pro either. He gently nudged you with his shoulder, “Scared?” He asked you.

Shaking your head, you smiled back. “You wish Garrick. I think I can hold my own on an ice rink.” You bantered.

Kyle’s shoulders hiccuped as he chuckled, “Alright then. Let’s get in line.” He said leading you over to one of the lines of people. It wasn't a terribly long wait, maybe twenty or fifteen minutes before you made it to the front. And of course, he insisted on paying for your skates even though he had been the one to buy the tickets.

You continued to talk as the both of you laced up your skates. But when it came time to actually get on the ice you found yourself apprehensive. Kyle had already gotten on with ease and was now waiting for you at the small gate entrance.

“Need any help there?” He asked, amused. To which you shook your head, determined to prove to him that you could do it on your own.

“All good.” You breathed, holding onto the gate as you stepped on the ice. “-just uhm, getting my footing.” For some reason, under his gaze, you felt your whole body begin to malfunction. Like you were getting performance anxiety.

You sheepishly let go of the gate, standing statue still. And Kyle simply stood there, an amused smile played across his lips. Arms crossed in front of his broad chest. You swallowed, taking a shaky step forward. And because your life seemed to be one large cosmic joke, you felt your skate slide out and you fell forward.

You tried to put your arms out to catch yourself, shutting your eyes tight with a small squeak before you felt something take hold of you. You blinked as you realized that your face didn't collide with the hard surface of ice but with something else.

Kyle’s arms had caught you just in time, your face pressed up against his warm chest. Large arms encircling your waist, you heard him whistle. A red blush crosses your cheeks from embarrassment. “Careful there, thought you said you could hold your own?”

You were mortified, you had practically thrown yourself at him! (not intentionally of course, but still)

He helped you stand back straight as well as fix your coat. You swore you could almost feel steam coming out from your ears. “I’m sorry, that was an accident I swear.” You babbled. He didn't seem to mind, however, simply holding his hands up and giving you a soft look.

“Hey, it's okay love, I know. Happens to the best of us.” He reassured. Once again you tried to brush off the pet name so as not to implode. Kyle held his arm out to you, “-Why don't you hang on to me for the first couple of laps yeah? Just to be safe.”

You looked between him and his outstretched arm. “I-uh yeah. Sure, sounds good.” You said, taking hold of his arm for more support. He flashed you a smile before slowly skating forward. You tried your best to keep up, and with his support you did.

The two of you did loops around the skating rink, people-watching, talking, and laughing. The thing was, your arm still held his, even after the first couple of loops, he made no effort to detach from you. And neither did you, but that was neither here nor there. You actually learned a lot about him, about his family, his interests, and even a little about his work. Which in his words was “Nothing that you should ever have to hear about.”

You managed to open up to him as well, sharing more of your life with him. Eventually, your time at the rink ran out. But the conversations between you and Kyle still kept up. By the time you were walking back to your complex with him, his hand had managed to sneak its way into yours. Some part of you was still in disbelief that it was even happening, however.

You swallowed, glancing at him from the corner of your eye as he walked shoulder-to-shoulder with you. “Thanks, by the way. It was really nice of you to take me out like this. But you really didn't need to, it was just a meal. A thank you would've sufficed.” You commented.

Kyle glanced back at you, raising and eyebrow. “You think I asked you out just cause you cooked me dinner?” He said, making you stop.

You looked at him, eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. “…yes? What other reason would there be?” You asked, utterly lost.

At that, Kyle fully turned to face you. Staring at you for a few seconds, his face trying to deduce if you were joking or not. When he realized you weren't kidding, his face broke into a smile. “[Name], I've been trying to ask you out for weeks.”

You blinked, his words only confusing you more. “What? No, I would've picked up on it.” You said.

He chuckled and shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yes actually, multiple times,” Kyle said. Looking at you with an expectant gaze.

You tried to dive back into all of your memories with him, searching for a time that would've counted as him asking you out. But, you came out empty-handed. “Give me an example then.” You said, brow furrowed.

Kyle raised his eyebrows, “What about the other day when I invited you inside to eat dinner with me after you brought me food?”

“Well, that doesn't really count. That's just something people say to be polite. How was I supposed to know?” You challenged.

He continued, “…Or about that time I told you I had an extra ticket to a football game if you wanted to go?”

You felt your cheeks get a bit rosy. That one did sound a bit more like asking you out when you thought about it. “I- I was under the impression that you were just giving me a ticket. I didn't realize you meant together,” You flushed.

Kyle kept going. “And that time I caught you coming back from a bad date and I said I could show you a better one?”

Okay yeah, you were seeing it now. You bit down on your cheek, trying to stop yourself from melting into a puddle. “I thought you were just being nice.” You said lamely. You saw his mouth open to respond, but you held your hands in front of his face. “Okay, but yes, I get it! I realize now that there might have been some signs.”

You heard him chuckle, he gently lowered your hands. You sighed, feeling your cheeks burn red from embarrassment. How could you be so clueless!? “I'm sorry for not noticing that you were trying to ask me out.” You murmured, trying your best to avoid his eyes.

You then felt his warm hand slide over your jaw, cupping the side of your face to raise it. Your eyes met his, mirth swimming inside his dark brown irises. “It's okay love, you're worth the wait.”

You felt your face burn, realizing the significance of what was happening. His eyes darting between your lips, the way he held your face, the utter cheesiness of it all. And God you were eating it up like your own personal rom-com. But to your dismay, nothing was happening! Like you two were frozen in time. Kyle had been the one to ask you out, to make the first moves, so maybe it was only fair you did this small thing.

Throwing your timidness out the window, you leaned forward. Shutting your eyes and locking lips with him. It only took a moment for Kyle to press back against you, tilting his head and sliding his hand over your cheek to cup the back of your head. It was pure bliss.

You stayed like that for as long as you could, letting yourself get lost in the feeling of his lips. Yet all good things end as you still need oxygen, so you did eventually have to pull away.

Your eyes were wide as you stared at him, face flushed. He looked a little better, but it was cute the way he looked post-kiss. Kyle’s lip turned into a boyish grin, “Does this mean I get another date?”

You couldn't help but laugh, “I guess so.”

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Jhonny Soap McTavish Smut

Curse your boss for putting you on the late-night Christmas shift. What kind of fucker does that? A greedy one, you supposed. It wasn't like you didn't have plans, not with family, no, but with friends.

But no. He just had to schedule you for Christmas night.

Bartending for a group of sad, lonely, old men wasn't what you had in mind when you thought of Christmas. And even though you tried to get out of it, (bribing every co-worker and staff member you could and asking them if they would cover your shift) you still ended up behind the counter.

You grimaced, dish rag in hand as you cleaned the sticky countertop. It was pretty dead, but not enough that you were free for time. A few regulars sitting at the bar, and others were scattered about the place. Some talking or watching the different channels projected on the TV. Overall, it was a quiet evening. Though some part of you felt a little bad for wanting everyone to leave, after all, some people here didn't have families or friends to go home to.

You heard the doorbell chime as somebody walked inside. You didn't bother looking up, more concerned about the patch of mystery substance that wasn't going away. You furrowed a brow, working your muscles to press into the surface and scrub.

Heavy boots creaked across the wood, getting closer with each moment. Yet you still hadn't made any progress on the counter. With a heavy sigh, you rolled your eyes and looked up. A frown that could scare off any customer played across your lips.

“Jesus, Bonnie, Christmas shift that bad aye? Y’look like you're about to kill me right where I stand.”

You halted. Standing before you was Johnny McTavish, or Soap, as his other friends christened him. (don't ask, you didn't know why either) He was a part of the semi-regular military group that came in a few times a month. There was a large base a few miles away, so it wasn't abnormal to get your fair share of soldiers now and again. However, what was abnormal was the fact that he was here alone.

Normally, Johnny came in with three other guys. Gaz, another more gruff man who they referred to as ‘Cap,’ and a big scary-looking bloke who always wore a balaclava.

You stared at him for a good few seconds.“I uh, sorry you caught me off guard there.” You breathed. “-And no, it’s not bad in here, just prefer not to be working on Christmas night.”

Johnny hummed, walking up the the counter and pulling out a stool right in front of you. His large arms settled against the wood, “Too bad. Bossman put you on the shift, did he?” He asked, apparently very amused by your grim attitude.

You rolled your eyes, throwing the rag under the counter. “Yeah, I even tried to bribe everyone to cover my shift but nobody would take it.”

He smiled, shrugging his broad shoulders. “Well then maybe this was fate.” He joked, “-Anyway, since it is Christmas, would you mind pouring me a glass? Y’know, as a present?” He said, grinning at you.

You felt your heart stutter a little.

Oh yeah, the other thing about Johnny was that you may or may not have the biggest crush known to man on him. It wasn't even your fault, he charmed his stupid way into your heart. With his ridiculous mohawk, (which wasn't even really a mohawk) pretty blue eyes, and his huge biceps. Very annoying. Not even to mention his rough voice with that thick Scottish accent.

To say you had the hots for him was a giant understatement.

You breathed out a laugh, “Alright, coming up.” You turned around to grab the bottle of vodka, fixing together a Cape Codder. Then sliding the glass over to him. He gave you a funny look, concussion written across his face.

“This isn't my usual.” He pointed out, still taking the drink nonetheless.

You flashed him a smile, winking. “Merry Christmas doll face.” You said sarcastically. To which he simply took a sip. You eyed him as he did, “Where are the rest of the guys?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Johnny cleared his throat, setting the glass down and leaning forward. “Gaz and Price are back at base, everyone had drinks earlier and they wouldn't make it. Ghost’s not the biggest fan of Christmas so he didn't want to go out either.” He said casually.

You nodded, “If you had drinks earlier than why are you back here?” You asked.

Soap smiled, his jaw working in a way that made you swallow. “Never said I did, the others drank, but I held off until now. Thought I'd be better if I got shit-faced here where you could see it.”

You laughed, leaning against the back counter. Your arms crossed over your chest. “And you were just betting on me working tonight?”

Jhonny shrugged, taking another sip. “I had an inkling.”

You breathed out another small chuckle, walking back over to grab the towel you'd thrown before. “Y’know, I'm only giving you a free drink because it’s Christmas. Can't pull that trick on anybody else, so be grateful you got me.”

He nodded, licking his lips. His eyes followed you as you walked around. “Trust me Bonnie I am, not every day I get you all to myself.”

Your train of thought stuttered a bit, Jhonny was a flirt, yes. But for some reason, it felt different. His tone had changed, and the way his eyes were tracking your every move felt more real. You glanced back at him as you scrubbed the countertop. “Who says that all my attention is on you?” You quipped with a smile.

Jhonny grinned, shaking the ice in his glass. “You know what I mean.” He set in drink back down on the table. “But for the record, I don't see you givin’ any attention to the other blokes here.”

You shot him a look, trying to hold in your laugh. “Unfortunately, half of the people here are either probably married or well above the appropriate age bracket.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Too bad, here I was thinking I’m getting special treatment. Better think of a way to get on your good side, I suppose.”

You cocked an eyebrow at him, intrigued at the sentiment. “Yeah? What did you have in mind?” You asked.

“Depends.” He said, staring at you with way more intensity than you were prepared for. “-What do ya’ want Bonnie?”

You stared back, at a loss for words. There were many things you wanted, or more specifically, things you wanted him to do to you. Your throat suddenly went dry, your train of thought ruined by a barrage of filthy images flashing in your mind. It wasn't until another minute went by that you remembered you were supposed to be responding to his question.

You cleared your throat, “I uh- a solid cash tip would be nice. Or maybe you could cover my shift.” You joked, trying to play the silence off.

“S’not what it looks like to me.” He stated, throwing his head back as he downed the last of his drink.

You halted again, caught off guard. Furrowing your brow in confusion, “Excuse me?” You asked.

He put the drink back down on the table, leaning forward on his arms. His signature impish smile on his stupidly pretty lips. “That's not what it looks like to me.” He repeated, enunciating each word. “Nobody looks at somebody like you just did to me, then makes a joke about covering a shift.”

You felt your heart speed up, so he had noticed your stare? You forced a frown, keeping a skeptical face. Placing a hand on your hip, “I wasn't looking at you like anything.”

“Oh yes, you most definitely were Bonnie.” Fuck that stupid nickname he always called you. It only weakened your resolve.

You rolled your eyes, “And how exactly was I looking at you?” You said, frowning at him.

Johnny’s smile twitched up a little, something akin to hunger flashing in his eyes. “Like you wanted to shag me.” He spoke casually. “-Can’t say I'm not guilty of’tha either though. The drinks here aren't the only reason I'm always stoppin’ by.”

If your face wasn't red before, it definitely was now. You looked around as if somebody was listening in on the conversation. You looked back at him, wide-eyed and flushed. “I-what? I wasn't-” You cut yourself off from stumbling over another word. “You…want to fuck me?” You said slowly, skepticism leaking through your tone.

Without a beat, he nodded. “Yes.”

You stood statue still, absolutely floored by his lack of filter. For a few moments, you didn't know what to say. What could you say? ‘Yeah, I do too now let's have sex right now.’ Yeah right.

…

Well maybe.

You looked around again, there was barely anyone in the bar. They probably wouldn't notice if you disappeared for twenty minutes, right?

You looked back at Johnny, “Meet me behind that door one minute after I go inside.” Without another word, you turned on your heel and marched your ass into the back room behind the drink display. The heavy door shutting with a thump behind you.

You blinked, holy shit. You had just told Johnny to meet you in the back room. What the hell were you doing?!

Just before you started panicking, the door swung open and Johnny marched straight in. “What the hell? I thought I told you a minute later.” You whisper shouted at him.

He chuckled, “Sorry, but I don't think waltzing in here a minute after you would make what we're about to do any less obvious. It was a nice thought, though.” He said, almost patronizingly.

Suddenly, his strides had backed you against one of the back walls that were lined with cardboard boxes. You bit down on the inside of your cheek, “You're such a-” You cut yourself off, sighing heavily. “For the record, I'm only doing this because I'm pissed off about working and I need something to fill the time.” a lie.

Johnny’s large hands slid against your waist, holding you there. “Sure, Bonnie, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Just as you opened your mouth to argue back his head dipped down to capture your lips. You let out a surprised noise but quickly adapted, your hands snaking around his head and pulling him closer. He groaned into you, pushing his hips against yours as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

The kiss was needy, desperate even. Like he wanted to consume you whole. Every moment seemed to heat the tension between you as he slowly ground himself into you, letting you feel the hardening tent between his legs.

He gently nipped at your lip, causing you to gasp. His large hands made quick work of your top by sliding it over your head. As soon as he saw you in your bra, he groaned, “Fuck, this is what I've been thinkin’ bout’ for the past few months.” Without another word, he reached behind you to unclasp your bra. Groping and pawing at your chest like a cat.

You tried your best to keep your sighs and moans down. “You've been thinking about me?” You breathed.

“Every day Bonnie.” He said, kissing a trail up your neck. Red hickeys blossoming in his wake that would undoubtedly remain for the next few hours. But you couldn't find it in you to care, at least not in this moment.

Without warning his kisses began to drop until he slid down between your legs. Kneeling before you like he was ready to worship the ground you stood on. You looked down at him, surprise in your gaze. However, he paid you no mind as he undid your pants. Pulling them down your legs until they pooled at your ankles.

You swallowed, “Johnny you don't have to-”

“I want to.” He cut you off. His breath fanning against the material of your panties, blue eyes staring up at you with haze. His hands gently pulled down the elastic of your underwear until you stood bared to him. “-Fuck, you gorgeous thing.” He breathed, in awe of you.

His mouth was on you at a moment's notice. His hot tongue licking circles around your clit. Your hands immediately went to grab at his hair. Curling around the short locks of brown hair, your other hand slapped over your mouth. Muffling the puffs of air and moans falling from your lips.

It was almost like he was enjoying it more than you were because the way he ate you out was akin to a starving man desperate for water. Johnny moaned into you as he sucked and licked at you, hands holding your hips, keeping you in place.

You panted, absolutely lost for words as he delved into you. You'd never had any man desperate to taste you, so this took the cake. And the way his stubble scratched into your skin made you dizzy. This man had ruined you for anybody else in a few short minutes with his tongue alone.

“Jeez, Johnny- you're gonna make me cum if you keep going like that.” You panted out through your moans.

He detached for a second, looking at you. His cheeks flushed red, his eyes glazed over, and his mouth slick with your juices. “Good,” He panted. “Means I'm doing my job right.”

Before you could say any more he went right back at it, flicking his tongue over your clit. Your hands squeezed his hair tighter, pushing him further. Johnny moaned, letting you guide his face for your pleasure. One of his hands slid away from your thigh to your pussy, pressing a finger into your hole.

You let another moan slip, not being able to hide it as his thick digit pushed into your walls. It was too much, the pressure of his finger curling inside you as his tongue worked against your clit.

“Holy shit- m’gonna cum. M’gonna cum.” You panted, voice going up an octave as your body tightened. A burning heat sending shocks through your spine.

Johnny groaned in response, working his finger faster inside you. You threw your head back with a silent cry, legs shaking as you came. Heat burning down your body and lighting fireworks inside your stomach.

After a few more seconds, he slid his finger out of you, leaning back on his knees. His breath was almost as heavy as yours. Your mind was still hazy but somehow you found it in you to look down at him, gently carding a hand through his hair. “Fuck, McTavish, you surprised me.”

He grinned back at you, practically pussy drunk. “Yeah? Does that mean I get another free drink?” He asked, amused.

You smiled, helping him to his feet. “I’ll do you one better.” You murmured, feeling the fog of your orgasm slowly fade a little.

He raised an eyebrow, his mouth opening in question as you switched your position. Now in front of him and sliding down to your knees, eye to eye with his bulge. Your hands palmed over him, making his head tilt back with a soft groan. “Fuck- [Name], eating you out like that already did a number on me.” He panted, “M’not gonna last long if you do anything to me.”

You smiled, gently unzipping his pants and pulling apart the fabric. Jeez, he was practically tearing a hole straight through his boxers. “I can live with that.” You said teasingly, sliding down his briefs to let his dick spring free.

Your eyes drank him in, pleasantly surprised to find out, yes, he was big. You gently took hold of him, his cock sticky and beading with milky precum. His head fell back against the wall. “You really know how to make a guy feel special, don't you?” He half laughed, half moaned.

You hummed in acknowledgment, licking a stripe up his cock. Then swirl your tongue over the reddish tip, lapping up the fluid like syrup. His dick twitched, making you smile. Slowly, you took the head of him into your mouth, inching your way down.

Johnny cursed, his hand reaching down to grab your hair. Holding you as you slid down his dick, your throat wrapped around him. “Bonnie, I told you I wasn't gonna last long.” He moaned, his breath heavy and hard.

You moaned in response, bobbing your head up and down his cock. Letting the tip hit the back of your throat. Your eyes locked on his face scrunched up in pleasure as you sucked him off.

Soon, he was practically whimpering at nothing. His hands held your hair with a vice grip as you bobbed up and down on his dick. “Fuckfuckfuck- that's it, keep going. You're so gorgeous, just taking my cock like that.”

You moaned, feeling his cock twitch again in your mouth. With another curse, he came down your throat, painting your mouth a milky white.

Slowly, you detached from his softening dick. Swallowing the fluid, it was salty, kind of earthy too. Not bad though, thank goodness. Johnny stared at you, looking wrecked. You probably didn't fair that much better.

“Was that better than a free drink?” You chuckled, wobbly standing up.

Johnny laughed, nodding. “Way better than a free drink.”

There was a moment of silence before he spoke up again.

“…so, you free after your shift?”

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Merry Christmas or Happy holidays!

Or if it is the day after Christmas then happy late Christmas. Anyway, just a collection of a few one-shots for the festive season :)

This isn't my usual content, it’s normally more long-form stories but I hope it was okay!

Not too much to say other than thank you for reading and all your support, I love each and every one of you.

And don't forget to like or repost, maybe even leave a comment if you so choose. Toodles!

( ✧≖ ͜ʖ≖)

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[bangtan-junkie]

Dissonance (Part 3) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (f) ft. Jimin

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Genre/Tags: coworker!JK, enemies to lovers, smutttttt, slow burn (ish?), ANGST

Word Count: 9028

Synopsis: Giving you what you wanted seemed to put more of a rift between you and Jungkook. How could you enjoy his every touch, but despise him for it at the same time? Now you were stuck working on a huge project together, adding to the tension building between you two. High tensions and deadlines finally brought things to a head, forcing some truth out of each of you. But somehow that only seemed to make things worse. You couldn't handle it anymore. You needed a distraction. And what better distraction than a certain pretty red-haired man that you worked with?

Note: the plot and smut might be equal for once lmfao. as always, i hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! (longer note at the end)

This time around, you didn't have the privilege of avoiding Jungkook. You were still very much stuck on the project with him, despite all the excuses you had tried to make to your boss. She was having non of it; determined to get you two working together. So, you grit your teeth, and for the sake of professionalism (mostly just to keep your job), you remained civil with him. Your job was made surprisingly easier by Jungkook. After your last encounter, he'd become distant and quiet. He was now only talking to you if he really needed to, and doing everything in his power to not be in the same room as you.

Jungkook was not happy. Despite giving you exactly what you wanted the last time, you still loathed him and he couldn't understand why. When you left that file room, he was quick to get himself off - still reeling from your taste, how you felt, your sweet moans. But even after climaxing, he was still rock hard. As much as he wanted to keep going, he knew he'd been gone for too long and someone would come looking for him soon. So, he fixed himself up as best as he could. He tucked his cock up into his waistband, tried to fix his collar, and ditched his stained blazer. The rest of the day, he seemed normal enough to everyone else, but he was all too aware of his arousal. Jungkook couldn't have gotten home quicker that night; immediately pulling your panties out of his pocket and his cock out of his pants. Once he finally felt satisfied and his hormones balanced out, that's when the reality of his thoughts hit him. He'd put up with so much of your shit; but you treated him like trash, started rumours about him, humiliated him at work and in front of your boss - all because you wanted him to touch you. And when he did just that, he was still the asshole at the end of the day somehow. Did you really hate him that much? The frustration that was building up in him wasn't healthy and he knew that. He couldn't help himself when you looked at him with so much defiance and self-righteousness. He just wanted to wipe that look off your face - put you in your place. Jungkook had to stop himself; stop giving you what you wanted every time. So he decided to distance himself.

You'd think you would've been happy with his efforts to stay away from you. And you were, at least in the beginning. You were fully expecting this project to be a nightmare because Jungkook was going to give you a hard time. But he didn't. He was as civil as you were. Initially, you thought that maybe he finally understood how poorly he'd treated you- felt bad even. Maybe that's why he was making this easy. That was until you noticed how he was rushing out the door whenever you were the only person in the room. Or how he'd stopped quipping back when you slipped in any passive-aggressive comments. Or how rigid he was around you - all the time - despite being completely normal with everyone else. That was when your blood began boiling. He was basically turning the tables on you now, even using your tactics against you. Granted, in all your rage, you'd gone too far before. It was only fair that you'd humiliated him just as he'd done to you. Even though you didn't feel even by the end of your last exchange. While his degrading words never failed to drench your panties, some of it felt a little too real. Did he really think you were just one of these women that throw themselves at him? Extra desperate for him? That you were just waiting around for him to pay attention to you? You tried not to think about it, knowing it would only piss you off more. His new behaviour was most definitely not helping. It felt like he'd proved his point to himself, and now he was ignoring you as if you were a bad one night stand.

Despite your growing frustrations, part of you did feel bad about starting that rumour about him and the boss. You still didn't know whether it was true or not (although you were strongly leaning towards it being true). Jungkook had never clarified that; he had seemed more offended by your accusations of his lack of skill. But whether he was sleeping with her or not, the whole office didn't need to know. Not that she didn't make it obvious that he was her favourite anyways. You felt the need to clean up the mess you'd made, just to clear your own conscious, if nothing else. Just as sneakily as you started the rumour, you began discrediting the idea whenever people brought it up around you.

"He acts like that with everyone."

"He's everyone's favourite, apparently. Of course he's the boss' favourite too."

"He does get a lot of the shit projects that no one else wants too."

Your passive-aggressive comments and the fact that everyone had forgotten who'd started the rumour, helped with the damage control. Soon the rumour began dying down, and thankfully before your boss had heard them. But while you were doing a saint's work, Jungkook continued treating you like a stranger. You fought the urge to march over to him and give him a piece of your mind, but the last thing you wanted was to draw more attention back to him. Maybe this distance that he was putting between you two was for the best.

The next two weeks went by quickly as you engrossed yourself in the project and ignored Jungkook's weird behaviour. You were surprised to find that you actually worked well together when you weren't at his throat. He worked hard, made sure to get his work done on time, and - despite refusing to socialize with you - was good at communicating with you about the project. At first, you found it hard to move past Jungkook's cold behaviour towards you. But you certainly couldn't let it affect your work either, so you decided to stick it out - at least till this project was over. When the project finally came to a close, you were quite proud of your work. But the lingering feeling that you'd never speak to him again after this was slowly eating away at you. Why did you even care?

The night before your submission and presentation, you and Jungkook were the last ones left in the office. As you closed the last tab on your computer, you sighed contentedly and stretched your back. After sitting at your desk for so many late nights over the last few weeks, you felt like your entire body was sore. A disgruntled sigh from behind you made you swivel in your chair. While you'd just wrapped up the presentation for the next morning, Jungkook was still busy at work. His brows were furrowed as he carefully examined the papers in his hand, his desk scattered with more paper. He had taken on the responsibility to finalize the submission documents which is what he'd been working on the entire day. Maybe it was the lack of sleep from the past few days, or maybe you felt bad, but you decided to try and make conversation.

"Do you need any help?" you asked, standing up to stretch a little more. Jungkook's eyes flitted over to you as you broke the silence, his gaze roaming over your figure briefly.

"No, I'll manage," he replied blankly, quick to get back to his reading. You rolled your eyes, not entirely surprised by his cold answer.

"I'm gonna get some coffee. Looks like a late night for you, do you want some?" You asked as you walked towards the door.

"Yeah," he answered curtly. You froze in your spot momentarily, not expecting him to agree. This was probably the most friendly he'd been in over two weeks. "Oh and do you have the final drafts? I need them to cross reference and edit."

"Yeah, I do," you said, turning on your heels to get back to your desk. But Jungkook just waved dismissively.

"Just leave them on your desk before you leave. I'll get them later." You nodded, heading out to get the coffee. You returned with the two coffees, stepping behind Jungkook's desk to hand him his.

"Here. You like yours sweet right?" you asked, handing him his cup. Your stomach fluttered as his fingers brushed against yours while he took the cup. Jungkook didn't miss the way your gaze dropped to your touching fingers, but he didn't say anything. He simply nodded, sipping his drink. You sighed, walking back over to your desk and plopping in your chair.

"Don't you have manners?" you snapped, annoyed with his dismissive behaviour. Jungkook looked up at you, an amused glint in his eyes. You snapped your fingers. "Hello? You're supposed to thank people when they do things for you."

"Really?" he asked condescendingly, turning back to his papers. "I've done plenty of things for you, and haven't heard a 'thank you' either." The insinuation of his words made your face heat up with embarrassment and anger.

"You're such a fucking prick," you cursed, quickly grabbing your things. Suddenly, you couldn't get out of the office quicker. You didn't know why you'd bothered to try to talk to him at all. Why stay here and suffer further humiliation when you could be at home, taking a bath instead?

"First an asshole, now a prick. I must really be the worst," he said, a bite to his words despite his disinterested tone. You scoffed in disgust, feeling stupid for thinking he'd even consider being polite. Without another word, you shoved your things into your bag and left the office. Jungkook's eyes only lifted to watch you walk out the door, a certain frustration building up in him. But he shoved his feelings down to focus on his work.

When you finally got home, you ate something sweet with your coffee, took a hot shower, and climbed into bed. Pushing aside all thoughts of Jungkook, you knew you had to get a good night's rest to nail your presentation in the morning. Luckily for you, your exhaustion from the past few weeks caught up with you the moment your head hit the pillow. And then you were out like a light. At least until the sound of your phone buzzing woke you up a few hours later.

"Hello?" you mumbled groggily into your phone, beyond pissed that someone had woken you up.

"It's Jungkook. Where are the drafts? I can't find them anywhere," he asked, annoyance clear in his voice. It took you a moment to process what was going on as you wiped the sleep from your eyes.

"They must be on my desk," I groaned angrily, just wanting to back to sleep.

"If they were on your desk, why would I be calling you?" he snapped. You sat up, trying to think clearly. You knew they were on your desk, but then it dawned on you - you had shoved them into your bag in your hurry to leave. You cursed under your breath, knowing that Jungkook was about to give you more shit for this.

"Fuck, I think I might've taken them by accident," you admitted, bracing yourself. There was a moment of silence which was followed by a quiet groan. You could picture him pinching the bridge of nose in irritation.

"I need those drafts to finish to finalize the submission docs," he said blankly, as if the solution to this problem was glaringly obvious. You pulled your phone away from your face, staring at the screen in disbelief for a moment.

"I am not coming in to the office right now Jungkook. It's 3am for fucks sake," you said, bewildered.

"Well I need them now," he grit through his teeth. "We have to submit these at 8, you know that."

"Look, I'm sorry. But I'm not coming in at this time. I can come in earlier in the morning," you offered.

"I need them now," he repeated. "Fine. I'll just come pick them up myself. Text me your address," he demanded before hanging up. Once again, you were left staring at your phone in disbelief. What other choice did you have? You texted him your address and laid back down to rest your eyes for a minute - which meant you went right back to sleep.

You jolted awake as your doorbell rang incessantly, over and over again. Groaning in irritation, you reluctantly got out of bed, dragging your body out of your room.

“Can you fucking stop?! I’m coming!” You shouted. You weren’t the nicest person to start with, but you were much worse when people fucked with your sleep. You unlocked the door, angrily swinging it open. “Do you have to be an asshole even at 3 in the morning?” You spat, groggily rubbing your eyes. Jungkook shot you a dirty look, like he was repulsed to just be in your presence. He took in your disheveled state. Without a word, he pushed past you, stepping into your apartment. You scoffed at his attitude.

“The drafts?” He asked curtly. You groaned, feeling your annoyance build up.

“You’re seriously gonna walk into my apartment and act like this?” You asked, your words laced with venom. Jungkook stepped closer to you, his presence suddenly feeling intimidating.

“I wouldn’t have to be here if you knew how to fucking listen, hm?” He grit through his teeth. Your jaw nearly fell to floor, bewildered by his audacity. “What did I tell you earlier today?” His voice was deeply condescending.

“Excuse me?” You scoffed, still in shock. He took another step closer to you, now towering over you.

“I told you to make sure you left the drafts for me. Did you listen?” He questioned rhetorically, the anger in his voice rising with each sentence. When you didn’t answer, he grabbed your jaw and forced your head to shake a no. “I wouldn’t have to be here, with you, to get those fucking drafts if you’d just done what I said,” he spat, practically shoving you away as he let go of your face. There was no fucking way he just did that. "What is it? Does everything I say go through one ear and out the other? Nothing in here to make it stick?" he asked, flicking your forehead, a dark glint in his eyes. It was obvious that he wasn't just talking about the drafts anymore.

Finally snapping out of your shock, you grabbed his hand as he was about to flick you again. Tension swam in the air as your grip tightened and your gaze pierced him. "Jeon Jungkook, you're crossing the line," you said firmly, trying to contain your anger.

"Crossing the line?" He laughed loudly before pulling his hand away from you. "Like you did?" he asked with dry amusement. You winced slightly at his words, feeling like he'd slapped you with them. He leaned against your kitchen counter, seeming tense despite his lax posture. "Actually no, I'm crossing the line in the privacy of your home - with no one around. But you felt the need to do it in front of other people. So I guess this isn't the same, is it?"

Your eye twitched at his words. Logically, you knew he was right. What he was doing now wasn't the same as what you'd done. It wasn't nearly as malicious as your actions and you probably deserved some of this. But, as guilty as you felt, anger was quickly replacing the feeling as he continued to behave so disrespectfully. Besides, you were also fighting back your irrational side that was telling you to slap him in the face.

"Do you feel better now? Are we even?" you grit through your teeth. He chuckled darkly, not a hint of humour reaching his eyes. He stepped forward again, backing you against the counter with no room to escape.

"Not even a little bit," he said, the depth of his voice rumbling through your chest. He leaned down, looking into your eyes so intently that you felt vulnerable; like he could see all your innermost thoughts. “We’re nowhere near even Y/n.” Your heart raced as you braced yourself against the counter, staring up at him.

“Then what else do you want from me?” Your words came out as a hoarse whisper. His hands enveloped yours on the counter, keeping you trapped under him.

“I want you to tell me why.” It felt like he was consuming you with his body and his words. Your stomach churned at the thought of baring your feelings to him. You tried to turn away to avoid his gaze, but his hand quickly grabbed your jaw and forced you to meet his eyes. “I’ve been very considerate; waiting for this project to be done and keeping my distance at the office. So you’re going to do one thing for me, and tell me why.”

“Why does it matter? Don’t you just want to get your revenge?” You retorted, a new fire burning in you that was fueled by embarrassment.

“Y/n, I’ve had to deal with people looking at me like I’m a walking STD for weeks. It’s truly a miracle boss never heard about the rumours or I would’ve been in so much shit,” he seethed, leaning closer. “So yeah, I wanna know why you did it.”

“I-I fixed it! No one really thinks it anymore. I already undid what was done. Isn’t that enough?” You tried to justify, squirming in his hold.

“Enough?” His voice dropped lower as he spoke mere centimetres from your lips. “You want me to thank you for fixing your own mistake?” When he put it that way, you felt even more stupid. “Why Y/n?” He repeated. You took a deep breath. He wasn’t going to let you go if you didn’t answer. There was no way around it.

“You left me. In that bathroom, you used me and you left me.”

Your heart pounded in your chest from a mix of emotions. Jungkook didn’t react. His expression stayed the same, indifferent, still staring into your eyes. Silence followed your answer which somehow felt more humiliating than actually being left in that bathroom. Your rage quickly built up.

“Seriously?! You have nothing to say about that?” You asked, angrily yanking his hand away from your jaw. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“You were the one that didn’t want anyone to know,” he finally spat. “So yeah, I left. Did you want to walk out together?” His voice began to rise a little, but he was sure not to yell.

“No, but–,” you started, but he interrupted you.

“That’s what I thought,” he scoffed. “And as for using you, you were pretty eager yourself.” He pressed you harder into the counter as his expression darkened. “I remember you taking my cock all the way to the back of your throat; so determined to make me feel good, to make me cum.” You tried to even your breathing so you wouldn't give yourself away as your mind raced with the memory. It wasn’t working too well. “I barely had to do anything. You were practically begging to suck me off.” The embarrassment was making it a lot harder to maintain your eye contact but you didn’t want to back down.

“Fuck you Jungkook. This is why I did it.” Your eyes were fiery as the truth came out. Well, part of it at least. “All you’ve done since then is humiliate me. Is this a game to you? Fuck with me and then make fun of me after?”

“Humiliate you?” He looked at you like you were insane. “You think this is me making fun of you?”

“What the fuck else is it then?! You make me sound like…” you trailed off, suddenly feeling like this conversation was getting too real. You had to turn away to hide the emotions that were most definitely written all over your face. Jungkook shook his head, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He wasn’t even sure how to explain that he wasn’t making fun of you.

“Y/n.” His voice was serious. “If I wanted to humiliate you, I wouldn’t be doing it here, when no one’s around. I’m not interested in pulling any stunts like you did.” His words stopped your thoughts in their tracks. He leaned down next to your ear.

“Because as much as I want everyone to know that it's me that makes a mess of you," he whispered, "I don't want anyone else to see what a dirty little slut you turn into for me." It felt like the oxygen was sucked out of the air as the soft words hit your ears.

"Every filthy word, every depraved sound that comes out of that pretty little mouth of yours is only for me to hear." Why was it that your brain turned off whenever he spoke to you like this? His body was now fully pressed against yours, trying to get as close as he could. But his hands stayed put, keeping your hands pinned to the counter. He nuzzled his face against your hair, right above your ear. His own breathing was heavy and this somehow felt more intimate than anything else you'd done before.

"That lewd face you make for me when you finally get what you want, fuck," he groaned. "I don't want anyone to see that but me." The possessiveness that laced his words should be setting off warning signs in your mind. Instead, it was making your chest heavy and building an ache in your core.

Jungkook was starting to feel more vulnerable than he wanted and he could feel his mental fortitude chipping away. He'd vowed to himself that he wouldn't cave to you - to his own desires - after your reaction last time. But he was finding it extremely difficult in the moment. He pulled away enough to look at you again. You found yourself searching for something in his eyes as you stared back at him. Sincerity maybe? You weren't sure you'd even be able to see it past the frustration that adorned his features.

"You think I'm making fun of you? You have no idea what you do to me Y/n." His face contorted into a snarl. "It's burned into my brain; the way your throat felt, your pleads and moans, how good your pussy tastes, how fucking tight you are." You knew that your eyes, clouded with lust, were definitely giving you away now. "Makes me rock hard whenever I think about it," he admitted with a humourless chuckle. He was pissed - at you, but even more so at himself. Meanwhile, you were struggling to process what he was saying. "Does that sound like I'm making fun of you?"

You were left speechless. Your mouth opened to answer him, but no words came out. Jungkook scoffed at your lack of reaction, feeling even more frustrated after spilling the truth. While both of your bodies were reacting to the situation, the tension in the room was becoming too suffocating to ignore. Your eyes subconsciously dropped to his lips, and that was nearly enough to snap his thin thread of restraint. His own breathing was ragged with the effort it took him to maintain his self control. He went to say something but quickly stopped himself. His eyes closed as he turned away to collect himself for a brief moment.

"You, on the other hand, are hell bent on ruining me," he grit, finally putting some space between you two as he stepped back. "You wanna talk about making fun of someone? How 'bout all that shit you said about me - that you lied about - in front of everyone?" His anger was becoming abundantly clear, and you couldn't help but start feeling guilty.

"I-I said I was sorry," you mumbled.

"Do you even realize how fucking humiliating that was for me? Or how screwed I would've been if the boss found out?" he grit through his teeth. "I tolerate so much of your shit Y/n. Just because I take it in stride doesn't mean you can do and say whatever the fuck you want. You think this is some joke? You could've destroyed my career Y/n." With every word he spat at you, your guilt resurfaced, taking in the gravity of your actions.

"Do you hate me that much?" he asked, a hint of hurt in his voice. When you didn't respond, he just scoffed. Your answer was clear to him. It shouldn't matter to him, because it's not like he had any reason to care about whether you liked him or hated him. But the bitterness of your silence still left a bad taste in his mouth, making him want to leave as soon as possible. He took a few more steps back until he was near your front door again.

"Get me those drafts" he said coldly, any sign of his previous emotions disappearing from his face. You didn't move for a moment, still processing what he'd just said. When he shot you an expectant look, you finally snapped out of it and grabbed the files out of your bag on the couch. You handed them to him wordlessly, a mix of emotions swirling through you. As he turned your front door, about to leave, he looked over his shoulder at you. "And by the way. You actually haven't even apologized once." Your stomach dropped as you realized you hadn't said "I'm sorry" at any point - too busy defending yourself the entire time. Before you could say it, Jungkook was already out the door.

It took you a while to fall asleep after Jungkook left. There were a million thoughts running through your mind. How were you supposed to process Jungkook's confession and rejection at the same time? It truly felt like he was done with you now that he'd said his piece - like one last 'fuck you' before he never had to speak to you again. You tried your best to push away all the thoughts that clouded your mind. The presentation you had to give in the morning was far too important for you to screw up because of all this shit. With great difficulty, you eventually managed to get some sleep.

The morning went by in a blur and before you knew it, you found yourself in the conference room at work, with Jungkook by your side, in front of your boss and coworkers. Regardless of your lack of sleep and heightened emotions, you managed to keep yourself composed and present your work clearly. Jungkook seemed to do the same, although you weren't sure he cared about what had happened at all. Even under the scrutiny of your boss, you felt confident about your work. This was only solidified as your boss praised you and Jungkook at the end of the presentation. Obviously, she leaned a little heavier into praising Jungkook, but she still commended your work. As your boss collected all the documents and left the room, you felt relief and dread take over you. Yes, it was a relief that this huge project was finally complete. But did this mean that Jungkook would never talk to you again?

Your coworkers came up to you, congratulating the two of you and immediately making plans to go out that night. You tried refusing but they remained persistent until you caved in. You glanced over at Jungkook. He seemed so normal when he was interacting with everyone else; he had a smile on his face, he was joking, and happily agreeing to go out later. You felt a pang in your chest. You focused on the conversation happening around you.

As 5 o'clock rolled around, your coworkers were already buzzing to leave. You followed their suit and began wrapping up your things.

"Hey," a familiar voice caught your attention. "I didn't catch you earlier, but I heard your presentation went well. Great work." Jimin's kind words eased some of your inner turmoil. You mirrored his smile with a small thank you.

"Are you coming to the bar?" You asked, gesturing to the groups of people that were leaving together. Jimin nodded, offering you his arm as you stood up from your chair. You gratefully took it, using him for support to steady yourself in your heels.

"Shall we?" he asked. You smiled again, appreciative for the distraction as you walked together to the nearby bar. When you got there, you wasted no time in ordering your drinks. You caught sight of Jungkook walking in not too long after, your gazes meeting for the briefest of moments. You immediately downed a drink, the burn in your throat working as a perfect distraction. By now you should've learned your lesson; that you and alcohol was the perfect recipe for disaster. But your mind seemed to have forgotten that as it craved for a way to take the edge off. Jimin watched you amusedly as you drank so quickly.

"Stressed?" he asked with a chuckle, sipping his own drink. You turned to him, trying to forget about Jungkook being there.

"Hmm?" you asked, confused.

"You drank that cocktail like it was a shot," he said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You must be stressed."

"Right. Yeah, just need to clear my mind a little," you answered sheepishly. You sipped your next drink, not wanting to alarm Jimin any further.

"You just finished a huge project. Shouldn't you be relieved? Less stressed in fact?"

"I should," you sighed. "It's not..." you started, your eyes glancing over at Jungkook again, "...work related. I guess." Seeing him acting so normal, as if he hadn't confessed how he couldn't stop thinking about you, was frustrating. You began questioning your memory. Had he really said that? Because anyone who looked at the two of you right now would assume he didn't even know you at this point. You polished off the rest of your drink in seconds. Jimin followed your gaze, a look of understanding washing over his face as he put the puzzle pieces together.

"What's going on between you two?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Nothing," you answered truthfully, turning back to him. After all, he'd barely even spoken to you over the last few weeks. And how would you even define what was happening between you two before that?

"It must be some pretty intense 'nothing' to have you drinking like this," he joked, watching you start on your third drink already. But Jimin took the hint; you didn't want to get into it and he would respect that. While the rest of your coworkers seemed to mingle amongst each other, you and Jimin kept to yourselves, the conversation flowing smoothly between you. Talking to Jimin was easy and it was doing wonders at calming your mind. You noticed that he was moving closer to you as the time went on, soon sitting so close that your knees were brushing. The more drinks you had, the less you minded his proximity, finding it almost comforting in a sense.

Jimin, who was buzzed but not as tipsy as you, noticed every little movement you made. The way you leaned in to talk to him, the way your skirt rode up your thighs as you crossed your legs, the hazy look in your eyes. It was all building up in the back of his mind. He'd always found you interesting, cute even - but between work and your bickering with Jungkook, you never seemed to have the time to actually become friends. He'd also be lying if he said he just wanted to be friends with you. He wouldn't be sitting so close to you, his fingers tracing patterns into your knee, innocently teasing the hemline of your skirt if he wanted to just be friends. Although you continued the conversation, he saw your eyes flit down to where his fingers lay and your breathing get slightly heavier. But you didn't move away.

Maybe it was the drinks in your system, but Jimin's fingers that were threatening to slip under your skirt were making your heart race. It had been a while since you'd flirted with someone else; usually, too busy bickering with Jungkook when you came out to the bar with your work friends. It was a nice change of pace, and it was certainly helping you ignore your guilt and frustration towards Jungkook. You'd always thought Jimin was attractive, but you never got any non-friendly signs from him - until now. Because the dark glint in his eyes as he listened to you speak and whatever his hands were doing were definitely not friendly. You tried to finish the story you were telling, but your brain kept getting side-tracked by him, making you halt momentarily in between words. Your gaze kept going back to his fingers that were trailing further up your thigh now. And when you were looking at his face, they kept dropping to his plump lips.

"Something wrong? You're struggling to focus," Jimin said, leaning in to speak softly into your ear. The feeling of his breath against your lobe sent a shiver down your spine.

"No, just...got a lot on my mind," you answered, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. You sipped your drink as Jimin pulled back a little, a smirk resting on his lips. His other hand came up to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear, his gaze seemingly more intense now.

"I hope you're thinking about me, especially when you're looking at me like that," he teased. Your face heat up a little as you realized he had could see the effect he had on you. His hand rest in your hair, while the other continued it's ministrations on your thigh. You didn't reply, turning away in embarrassment. Jimin chuckled at your reaction, cocking his head to the side to meet your gaze again. "I don't think I've ever seen you flustered like this before. It's really...cute." You flushed more when he placed a finger under your chin, guiding you to look at him. The kindness - the sweetness - he was treating you with felt foreign compared to Jungkook's ravenous appetite.

"Are you really calling me cute right now?" you asked weakly, hyperaware of his full hand gripping your thigh now. You found yourself leaning into his touch, subconsciously moving forward, as if his simple touch was beckoning you.

"I guess you're right," he chuckled, his hooded eyes roaming over your face. "I'd be lying if I said I'm just thinking about how cute you are." Your stomach flipped at the implication behind his words.

"What else are you thinking then?"

"You do look very cute like this," he said gently, leaning in closer, gaze dropping down to your lips. "But I'm also thinking about what you'd look like if I..." he trailed off, his breath hitting your lips. It felt like every thought in your mind had disappeared as you focused on your proximity. The few moments that he lingered, your heart raced with anticipation. Then his eyes met yours again, hazy with lust and that was the last straw. You weren't sure if it was you or him that closed the distance, but the next thing you knew, his lips were pressed against yours. Jimin's kiss was soft and tender; his hand slid behind your ear, pulling you closer to kiss you deeper. You moaned quietly against his lips - enjoying the sensuality of his kiss. His tongue gently swiped across your lips, slowly meeting yours as you parted your lips. His mouth and hands were doing an excellent job at clearing your mind. And while it worked - you were solely focused on Jimin and how he felt for the most part - a nagging thought broke through your amorous barrier.

Had Jungkook kissed you yet?

The simple thought broke your immersion. You pulled away, breathing heavily to catch your breath. Jimin's gaze was darker as his chest rose and fell.

"How do I look now then?" you asked, gulping down the lump that was forming in your throat as you were silently spiraling. Jimin grunted, his fingers trailing down your neck.

"Tempting," he answered, the one word heavy with desire. Your brain was at war with itself. Half of it was telling you to crawl into Jimin's lap and keep kissing him. And the other half couldn't stop thinking about how Jungkook hadn't kissed you - not even once. The conflicting thoughts in your already drunk mind were overwhelming and you needed a minute to calm down. Despite your urges, you slipped off the barstool.

"I'm just gonna go to the bathroom. I'll be right back," you said, stumbling a little as you straightened yourself. You gave him a small kiss to reassure him that you weren't rejecting him - you truly just needed a cold splash of water on your face to wash away Jungkook from your mind. Jimin's lips followed after yours as you pulled away, but he shot you a smile and nodded as you stepped away. You made your way through the crowd, distracted and hazy from the alcohol. You'd almost made it out of the crowd until you someone bumped into you. The force was enough to make you lose your balance and bump into someone's back.

"Oh fuck, I'm so sor-" you began, only for the person to turn around and of course, it was Jungkook. Your stumble had caused his drink to spill on his shirt. Your words got stuck in your throat as you mentally cursed your luck. You and alcohol is a recipe for disaster. Just walk away. You tried to convince yourself, but the annoyed look on his face was keeping you tethered in your spot. All your guilt and hurt bubbled up to the surface of your skin. The thoughts and feelings you'd spent the last couple of hours repressing came rushing back, threatening to spill from your lips. After a moment of shock, you laughed at the irony of the situation. Jungkook's brows furrowed, realizing that you were already drunk. You grabbed a nearby napkin and started wiping at his shirt, not noticing how close you were getting to him. As you wiped at his shirt, you were dazed with emotion. Jungkook watched you curiously. Your movements slowed down as your thoughts consumed you.

"I-I'm sorry," you mumbled. But it dawned on you that Jungkook probably couldn't hear you in this crowd of people. Taking a deep breath and gathering all your courage, you looked up at him. "I'm sorry Jungkook. I'm really sorry," you repeated.

Although you hadn't said anything else, Jungkook understood what you meant; the heaviness of your words clear. You weren't just apologizing about his spilled drink. His expression softened a little, but he was still upset with you. A drunken apology, no matter how sincere, wasn't going to fix everything.

"Shit, I keep fucking up with you huh?" you laughed, the sound devoid of any humour. You held onto his shirt as you struggled to get on your tiptoes. "I really do have a knack for making your life harder." Jungkook held onto your arm, supporting you so you didn't fall over. Your breath hitched as you met his dark gaze. There was that look again - like he would eat you alive. Your breath hitched.

"You must really hate me," you said quietly, now close enough that he could hear you despite the noise that surrounded you. You could see the frustration and restraint painted across his face.

"Y/n, you're drunk," he pointed out, voice low. His grip on your arm tightened as you leaned in closer, your eyes flitting between his eyes and lips.

"Did you mean it? That you can't stop thinking about me?" You asked, your thoughts blurting out of your mouth before you could even think. Jungkook growled as you pressed your body to his. You were really testing his self control; every inch of his body itching to pull you into him.

"Y/n," he warned, his jaw clenching while he tried to put some space between you. But you refused to let him, leaning on him so heavily that if he moved, you'd probably fall over.

"I think you're lying. You look at me with so much anger, so much hatred," you scoffed. Jungkook's eyes narrowed as you spoke, fighting the urge grab you and shut you up.

"That's why you won't kiss me, right?" you asked, voice shaky as the words finally left your lips. Jungkook was taken aback by your question, his brows furrowing even deeper. "You touch me, everywhere..." you whispered, "...but you won't kiss me. Because you can't stand the thought, you can't enjoy kissing someone you don't like, right?" You felt unbearably vulnerable as the questions lingered in the air. A few seconds passed as Jungkook scanned your face, the gears of his own mind turning. But he didn't answer you. The silence only confirmed your thoughts. Your stomach dropped as realization hit you and you knew that if you stayed any longer, you wouldn't be stay composed. You felt embarrassed and hurt enough as it was; you didn't need to humiliate yourself any further. You slowly let go of his shirt, pushing away from him, spinning on your heels, and heading to the bathroom.

The cold water against your skin did nothing to cool you down. Looking up in the mirror, you were met with your own flustered reflection. Was it the alcohol, Jimin’s kiss, or Jungkook’s lack there of that left you so heated? You didn’t know. You hated that you’d let Jungkook see you in such a weak moment. You and alcohol were a bad mix. Why did you even care if he didn’t kiss you? What would a kiss change anyways? The only thing you liked about him was how he handled you and your body. Kissing him meant nothing. At least that’s what you told yourself as you tried to pull yourself together before walking out of the bathroom. But the moment you stepped out, you were greeted with the sight of some girl pressed up against Jungkook. Your stomach churned at the sight, feeling like you'd been punched in the gut. After baring your hurt to him, this felt ten times worse. He really didn’t care about you or your feelings. You weren’t special; he just enjoyed messing with you, like every other girl he flirted with. How could he say all those things to you - confess that you had some effect on him - and then do this? As Jungkook briefly looked up from the girl who now had her arms looped around his neck, his eyes met yours. He shifted slightly, trying to step away from the girl as he saw the look on your face. You couldn’t stand there a moment longer, immediately rushing back over to Jimin. Before Jimin could even ask what was wrong, you were ordering shots. He quietly observed you downing your shots. With the frustration that was painted across your face, he could only assume this had something to do with Jungkook. One quick glance over to Jungkook, and he was sure; he was already staring in your direction. Jimin sighed softly. He didn't necessarily want to get between the two of you, but if Jungkook was causing you this much distress then maybe he should.

"You okay?" he finally spoke, placing a hand on the back of your head, guiding you to look at him as he polished off the rest of his own drink. You couldn't really tell if you were nodding or shaking your head no, but he must've seen the slight distress on your face because his eyes softened. He pulled you closer, turning you around before lifting you onto his lap. You were too hazy to protest as his chest pressed against your back.

"Jimin," you murmured, "I need a distraction."

"What kind of distraction sweetheart?" Your heart fluttered at the nickname.

"Anything." He leaned down, his breath hitting your neck as he moved your hair to the other side. He hummed against your skin, lips pressing gently against your pulse. The small gesture made your crane your neck the other way, your heartbeat racing more as your worried about whether he could feel it or not.

"This work?" he asked, biting at the skin before kissing it harder.

"Yeah," you replied shakily. Jimin's hands made their way to your hips, holding you firmly against himself. Your eyes closed while Jimin continued kissing your neck, his tongue now laving softly over the contrastingly sharp bites he was leaving. Yep, that was a pretty effective distraction. Before you knew it, your chest was heaving as your breathing became laboured. Jimin's arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you impossibly close. But you loved the proximity. It was intoxicating, yet comforting. He made you feel wanted which was something that Jungkook didn't do. Your body was quickly reacting to his touch, heat already pooling between your legs. You shifted slightly - only to feel Jimin's growing erection rub against you. Both of you groaned at the feeling. Jimin's lips moved to your ear, nipping at the lobe. In this position, you could hear his heavy breathing as you subconsciously continued shifting in his lap. Amidst such a good moment, you made the mistake of opening your eyes - only to meet Jungkook's gaze from across the bar. He was far away enough (and you were tipsy enough) that you couldn't make out his exact expression. But the fact that he was watching you was enough to unnerve you. You craned your neck to turn away, pulling away from Jimin with the motion as well. Jimin didn't even have to ask what happened as he caught Jungkook's stare too. A flash of irritation passed through him as Jungkook continued ruining your mood. But he brushed it off quickly, not wanting to upset you further. He held your chin, turning you to face him.

"You wanna get out of here?" he offered, mostly just wanting to get you away from Jungkook. A sense of guilt washed over you as Jimin treated you so sweetly. It wasn't that you didn't like Jimin, and you certainly found him incredibly attractive, but you felt like you were using him to get over Jungkook in a sense. You knew that this probably wouldn't be happening if everything between you and Jungkook hadn't happened. And you weren't sure you wanted anything more from Jimin anyways. Jimin was too kind for you to lead him on and use him like this.

"I-I do," you began, your voice heavy with guilt. "But I don't want to hurt you." Jimin gave you a look of confusion.

"Hurt me?"

"This...this is just a distraction for me." You winced as the words left your lips, feeling worse about yourself. "You're just a distraction." Jimin paused for a moment, but then his lips curled into a soft smirk.

"I'm okay with that. I can be your distraction," he whispered huskily. Your eyes immediately clouded with lust as he washed away all your guilt with two simple sentences. Suddenly, Jungkook was gone from your mind. You grabbed Jimin's hand, sliding off his lap, before dragging him up. He laughed at your enthusiasm, standing up but staying put in the spot.

"Let me settle our bill sweetheart," he chuckled, calling the server over and dropping some cash off with her. The second he paid, you were dragging him out of the bar.

Within thirty minutes, Jimin was struggling to open your apartment door while you messily kissed his neck, your hands roaming over his body. The second he got you through the door, he pinned you against the door and caught your lips in a hungry kiss. His own hands moved from cupping your face to sliding along your silhouette, appreciating your curves under his touch. The alcohol was catching up to you, making your movement sloppy now. But Jimin didn't mind, his own drunken mind loving the desperation in your touch. You slid your hand between your bodies, hastily rubbing his clothed cock.

"Y/n, fuck," Jimin groaned, struggling to contain himself. You took the opportunity to deepen your kiss, letting your tongue battle with his. Jimin huffed, matching your vigour, before grabbing your mischievous hands and looping them around his neck. His hands slid to your ass as he guided you towards the couch, not breaking the kiss for a second. When the back of your knees hit the couch, you tossed your bag on the coffee table. Some of your belongings fell out - including your phone - but you were too far gone to notice or care. Jimin lay you down on the couch, crawling on top of you immediately so as to keep kissing you. You groaned into the heat of his mouth. Your body felt like it was on fire as he pinched one of your excited nipples. When you finally ran out of breath, that was when he broke the kiss.

"Jimin, more. Want more," you mumbled, hastily trying to unbutton his shirt. He chuckled as you struggled with the small buttons. He held your hands to his chest, taking a moment to calm both of you down.

"Patience Y/n. We're not in a rush," he kissed the words into your neck. "We have all night," he whispered, sending shivers down your spine. He pulled away to look down at you, admiring your fucked out state. Your cheeks were flushed, eyes half-lidded as you looked up at him, and you were biting your lips in an effort to control yourself. The sight made him impossibly hard.

"I'll be the best distraction you could ever have," he spoke softly; but the tone of his voice was so alluring, you found yourself holding your breath in anticipation. And then, as if on cue, your phone buzzed on the coffee table. The vibrations against the glass were enough to draw Jimin's attention, while you returned to unbuttoning his shirt. Jungkook's name was plastered on the screen. Of course it was him.

Jungkook was still at the bar - now standing right outside for some fresh air. He was dealing with his own conflicting emotions. He was seething when he saw you in Jimin's lap, watching him kiss your neck. The way you were so docile in his hold, just letting him touch and kiss you, it made his skin crawl. Why were you so resistant to him, but so receptive to Jimin? You were meant to be his - his toy alone. He had half the mind to walk over there and yank you off Jimin's lap. But at that point, none of your coworkers had noticed the two of you yet. He didn't want to make a scene and embarrass all three of you; he couldn't afford any more workplace rumours. On top of that, he couldn't get your question out of his head: why hadn't he kissed you? Unable to bear watching the scene before him any longer, he turned away and focused on drowning his thoughts away with drinks. When he looked back, you were gone. His mind immediately flooded with all the scenarios you could be in. Were you with Jimin? He shook his head clear of his suspicions. What did he care? You were a grown adult, capable of taking care of yourself and making your own decisions. He continued drinking, but he couldn't shake off his anger and confusion. After a few drinks, his self restraint was slipping and he stepped out for some fresh air to calm down. But he found himself reaching for his phone and calling you. Why was he calling you? To check up on you? Make sure you were safe, find out where you were so he could come to you, or question you about Jimin? He didn't know as he stood there, watching his breath form clouds in front of him as the phone rang.

Jimin stared at Jungkook's name on your phone and grunted in annoyance. Even when he wasn't physically present, Jungkook managed to get in his way every time. At least this once, couldn't that man leave you two alone? Then a thought crossed his mind - a way to get Jungkook to leave you alone for tonight. Noticing the irritation on Jimin's face, you went to turn and look at your phone, curious to see what was bugging him. But Jimin stopped you, quickly cupped your face with one hand and crashing his lips to yours - effectively making you forget all about your phone. Meanwhile, his other hand slid over to your phone and swiped to answer Jungkook's call.

"Tell me what you want Y/n," he demanded between breaths as he purposefully kissed you sloppily. You moaned softly against his lips as the lewd sounds of your kissing filled your ears.

"Want you, Jimin," you groaned. You pulled at his collar, trying to get him closer.

"Yeah?" he prompted you further, his fingers pinching at your already hardened nipples to provoke you further. You gasped, moaning his name as your back arching into his touch.

"Want you to touch me, wanna taste you, wanna feel you," you rambled. "Want you to keep kissing me," you admitted with a sigh. Jimin's body was reacting your words too, his hips already grinding into you. He hummed with satisfaction, peeking over at your phone. There was still silence from the other end, and he felt his pride swell as he watched the call end. Jungkook wouldn't be bothering you tonight.

another note: HOLY FUCK YOU GUYS! i finally go this goddamn chapter out! I am truly so sorry it took me this long. but i was actually crashing out from life and THEN tumblr fucked me over and didn't save my draft for this chapter TT i literally had to take a break from the app i was so annoyed. it took me forever to rewrite this. to everyone who asked how I was doing and checked up on me, thank you <3 you guys are the sweetest and I am doing much better now! as for the story, was the plot twist what you expected? how're we feeling about reader and Jungkook right now? the tension continues to tension... while i'm decently satisfied with this chapter, i might have to take a break from Dissonance for a bit. i have a lot of other stories i want to write (specifically Love and Deepspace ones lmfao) and Dissonance is taking up a lot of my time right now. I swear I'll still be working on it, just expect some other works to be released before D4. thank you all so much for reading! I appreciate each and every one of you for enjoying my work :)

side side note: if y'all have any ideas for D4, or requests for new fics as well, please let me know! i already have noona x jk in the works lol.

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tag list: @myjungkookthighs @bemuas @junecat18 @exortedgoods @jahnaviii @jk97bam @itsmekylabear @blueberriesm @marvelbun @vantelover1306 @runariya @btstrology @diame93 @curse-of-art @minyoongi7016 @joonwater @jeonzll @hagridshaircare @user-190811 @praetae @llallaaa @chimchoom @persona3012 @softhaes @darkangelfei

[sl-ut]

the bottom

PART ONE | the line

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

description: joel’s new in jackson and tries to take his younger brother’s advice to fit in; keep your head low and work hard. however, while settling into his routine, he does exactly the opposite.

warnings: takes place between season one and two, unspecified age gap (joel is canon age/reader is mentioned to be mid-20s in beginning but the exact amount of time that’s passed is left to the imagination), reader has hair long enough to be braided, reader is a dv survivor, crazy exes, swearing, drinking, slight grumpy x sunshine but reader has layers she’s not just happy all the time, not a whole lot of joel x reader this chapter but it’s coming i swear.

words: 2.4K

date posted: 5/5/25

series masterlist | next part

Joel truly could not have asked for a better deal. He and Ellie were safe within the walls of Jackson, the Fireflies were gone and he’d made sure there was no one left in the hospital to follow them back, he’d found his brother after years apart, and he could finally sleep easy at night. He no longer had to worry about rolling onto his left side throughout the night (though, it was still a habit he’d failed to break when he settled out of survival mode), and he could actually prove to be useful to the community, something he hadn’t exactly shown much of in the past twenty-odd years aside from using brute force. Patrols kept him active, allowing him to maintain at least some of those survival instincts he’d relied on for so long, but it was the internal efforts that he surprisingly enjoyed the most. Plus, Tommy’s advice had seemed easy enough to follow; lay low and work hard. These people are welcoming, but you’ll still have to earn their respect. 

Tommy and a few other men had already been in the process of reinforcing the walls around Jackson when he and Ellie had returned from Salt Lake, and it seemed that they’d been in the process of figuring out some other larger renovations around the city that Tommy had yet to get around to. But now that they had a spare contractor, Joel was able to take over a few projects at a time and the city was being fixed up at twice the pace that they had initially expected and earning Joel that respect quicker than he’d hoped.

Laying low had been pretty easy, too. Joel had earned their respect, sure, but he’d also rather stick to himself whenever he could. He went to work every morning, was friendly enough with the others–but made sure to upkeep his reputation as the town’s resident grump, and spend his evenings either with Ellie, Tommy, or on his own. In the first three weeks since they’d arrived there, he’d made no effort to interact with many of the others outside of work or to trade and only learned the names of no more than two dozen people. 

Maria had finally taken a stand against this, insisting that Tommy and Joel each take the day off of their jobs so that Tommy could show his older brother around the city and properly introduce him to everyone. They’d made their rounds, bringing a list of errands made up by Maria to force them to go into a few places and interact with others, and Joel had been pleasantly surprised that he didn’t absolutely hate all of them–just a handful. 

“See, I told you that you’d get along just fine. Doesn’t matter who they were before they came inside these walls, they got two options; play by our rules or get the fuck out.” Tommy told him as they exited the bakery, each carrying a large brown paper bag in their hands with a selection of baked goods, “These are good people who live here–well, most of ‘em anyway. You gotta be shittin’ me.”

Tommy veered off to the right, headed down a side street at a quick pace. Joel followed behind, brow furrowed as he followed close behind, “Tommy, wha–”

“Hey Elias,” he called out, catching the attention of a tall, wiry man, his shoulder-length hair tied back in a bun at the base of his skull and body holding a slight tremor under the layers of clothing he wore; it all seemed to be nicer than what most wore, leading Joel to assume that he was some sort of higher-up around the place (despite the fact that Jackson had been built on the prospect of communism), “You need something in there, man? Thought you were supposed to be in the clinic today.”

The man turned and glared at Tommy, jaw set as if he had already been expecting the confrontation. He placed his hands on his hips, narrowing his eyes at the pair of brothers as he shifted one hand to point towards one of the buildings just off of the main street, “That’s my wife in there, Tommy. I’m sick and tired of you people telling me where I can and can’t go around here. It’s none of your goddamn business.”

Tommy rolled his own eyes, “Is she, though? Last I recall, she doesn’t wanna be married to you anymore. So if you’re going in there just to bug her after she, Maria, and myself have told you to stay away, I think it is my business.”

“I’m not fuckin’ buggin’ her, Tommy,” the man sneered, closing the distance between them to shove his finger into his face, “you stop me from goin’ to my fuckin’ house, schedulin’ me on these godawful shifts in the fuckin’ clinic, who the fuck do you think you are?”

Tommy turned his face away in disgust, “Yeah, from the stink of you it would seem you’ve been workin’ hard all day, huh? C’mon man, you smell like you’ve been bathing in booze. Let’s not make a scene here, make it easier on all of us.”

“Yeah, and what are you gonna do about it?” He turned his gaze down and spat at Tommy’s feet, “thought we were all a bunch of commies now, huh? All of us being equals and whatnot?”

“We’re all equal until one of us lays hands on their wife, Elias. You know that.”

Joel felt a surge of rage through him at this. Initially, he thought that the man had just been a drunk who’d skipped out of work to come and beg for his wife to come back to him, but now there was no denying the fact that the man was nothing more than a dirtbag wife beater. Truthfully, Joel was mostly shocked due to the fact that Tommy would even allow someone like him to even continue staying there. He couldn’t even count the amount of times that Tommy had gotten in trouble for picking a fight with men who even looked at women the wrong way; he could hardly imagine his brother having any sympathy towards a man who actually beat his wife, even if the punishment was an inadvertent death sentence by exiling him from the city. 

“It was none of your fuckin’ business to begin with. If that bitch hadn’t been running around on me then–”

“You and I both know that’s not true, man. She’s a good woman, and she’s made a whole lotta progress since she finally smartened up and left your ass.”

The man curled his lip in anger, but seemed to be backing down from the challenge, “Fuck this. That whore ain’t even worth it.”

He bumped both Tommy and Joel’s shoulders on his way past, but neither of the brothers made an effort to fight back against him, simply just glad that he had willingly left without forcing them to make a scene. Tommy stayed in his place for a moment, hands falling to his hips as he shook his head, finally turning back to his brother with an exasperated yet slightly sheepish expression.

“Do me a favour and keep this between you and me. Others know they’re split up but most don’t know why. I promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Joel scoffed, “You’re tellin’ me you’ve got good people here, and yet you’re harbourin’ a man who beats his wife.”

“Ex-wife,” Tommy corrected, “And it’s not like that. She left him, begged us to let him stay so long as he left her alone.” 

“I don’t know what sounds more fuckin’ stupid, that she wanted him to stay, or that you let him.”

Tommy shook his head, “It’s not just up to me. We’ve got a council, and unless I told ‘em exactly what happened, they’re not willing to give the boot to anyone for just bein’ an asshole, especially when he’s the only fuckin’ doctor we have.”

“Anyone can take the first aid training, Tommy.”

“No, Joel, he’s a surgeon. He was a resident before shit went south, and there’s been a few times where things woulda cost us a lot of good people if it weren’t for him. I can tell you right now that if she came clean about what he–” Tommy paused, taking a short breath to better compose himself, “We’d have a majority vote, and she knows that. If I had it my way, I wouldn’t have let him go that night.”

He watched his brother closely; his teeth gritted together, brow furrowed, and eyes wide and glassy. Tommy had clearly been affected by what had transpired between that man–Elias and his wife, so much that he couldn’t even seem to think about it without losing it. Joel grunted in response, nodding his head slowly. 

He couldn’t decide if he would have done the same thing in that situation, but then he thought back to Tommy’s words, I wouldn’t have let him go that night. Tommy had had his own hands on him, probably ready to kill him. Something about the situation made him sober up through the rage and make the decision to let the man go, to let him live. Joel knew he would not have had the same restraint if it had been him instead. 

Over the next few days, he repeatedly cursed himself for not demanding that his brother tell him the woman’s name. He spent the days that followed in a state of constant discomfort, always glancing over his shoulder in public to watch for Elias around town, taking note of where he went, who he spoke to, and to what anyone had to say about him. He’d begun taking on a leadership role around town, people flocked to him for help, following his orders on patrols, and looked to him for answers. He wasn’t the one to make those decisions on his own–hell, his opinions did nothing but occasionally influence the council, but people seemed to trust that he had the town’s best interest at heart. 

He’d been an official patrol captain for all of a week when Tommy met him in the stable early one morning, helping a young woman saddle up a dark chestnut coloured horse. She was bundled up in a thick wool sweater under a long green raincoat and a navy baseball cap over her neatly braided hair, ready to face whatever chill and rain early spring weather would throw their way. 

“Mornin’ old man,” Tommy grinned, turning to nod at the woman next to him, introducing her to his brother, “she’s gonna be joining you on patrol. You know this route by heart now, and she’s only been out a handful of times.”

Joel turned his gaze back over to her, taking in her features. He’d seen her around town before; she seemed to have taken on a new job every day and he could never anticipate when or where he might spot her. They had exchanged smiles and polite greetings as they passed by, just as everyone else did, though they had yet to interact any further. She was the kind of pretty that made him often struggle to pull his gaze away when he spotted her in a crowd, but she was also just young enough that made him feel guilty for it. She couldn’t be any older than her mid-twenties, but like everyone in Jackson, she looked like she had seen her fair share of loss and hardship. 

“Hi,” the woman beamed, holding her hand out to him eagerly, “I may be a rookie but I’m a pretty good shot so I think that makes up for it.” 

Joel shook her hand gingerly, “Yeah, hopefully you won’t gotta put that to use. This route’s usually pretty clear of infected.”

“Great,” she nodded, “because I was lying. I’m just okay.”

Joel scoffed, glancing over at his brother who seemed unfazed by the woman’s behaviour but amused at Joel’s reaction. She was exactly the type of person that Joel worked to avoid; far too peppy and a tendency to ramble. From the moment that they had mounted their horses until the moment that they returned from patrol almost three hours later, she hardly let more than a few moments of silence pass before she would be asking a dozen more questions. But for some odd reason, Joel didn’t hate it as much as he thought he would. 

It was sort of nice to have someone actually ask him about his day to day life without pressing too much into his past. He liked that she didn’t feel privy to his life before Jackson aside from asking where he was from and where he lived before Jackson. At some points, he was reminded of Ellie when they were travelling across the country in the way that she was able to come up with and ask such random questions off the top of his head, but it made patrol go by much faster than it usually did. And after, when she strutted off in the direction of the meal hall, he felt a flicker of regret for rejecting her invitation to join her. 

He felt an almost instantaneous connection to the younger woman, but he could not help but notice the line in the sand between developing feelings for the world and feeling like a disgusting older man preying on a younger woman; the line between denying himself of what could lead to happiness he hadn’t felt in decades and throwing himself head first into it. She was kind when she spoke to him, but Joel was not the sort of man to mistake kindness for flirting, but there was some sort of familiarity in her eyes when they met with his own–an understanding, leading to that already thin line growing even thinner. 

But what he hadn’t known at the time was that the moment they had set out on patrol that morning, he had started that dangerous walk along that narrow line, completely unsure of what side he was going to end up on.

[eaterofman]

Yandere Coworker Harem x New Hire Reader: A Meeting with the CEO

Follow up to this post

Finally fed up with it all, you decide to leave... but you learn it may not be that easy.

Content Warnings: General creepiness, yanderes, financial manipulation, manipulation, power difference, gaslighting

AN: Holy shit the first part blew up, more so than any post I've ever made on tumblr... ever. Thank y'all, and I hope this lives up to everyone's expectations? Had to ignore a few asks since they were essentially the plot to this part, haha.

As nice as Jake is... it starts to wear on you. The seclusion from your other coworkers, Warren and Jax's constant attention, it all becomes too much. This was the easiest money you've ever made, but it almost felt... condescending in a way. Seriously, you feel like you haven't actually worked in months, just given simple tasks to complete so that Jax could praise you. Otherwise, you felt like you were just eye candy set in a pretty office. No more, you figure. You make up your mind to go back to HR, it's been a long time coming. They either fix it, or you're gone.

With your mind made up, you return to Leon. He'd been so kind before, surely he'd help, right? As you explain your problems to him, he nods and gently smiles. In your distress, you don't notice his hand moving to cover yours, massaging yours comfortingly. You welcome the comforting sensation, overwhelmed to the point of not really considering the implications. You look into his dark eyes as you finish, silently pleading with him for help.

"That really is something. I'm sorry to hear your experience with the company has been so distressing. Tell me, do you have any proof?"

His demeanor seems to shift instantly back to the colder man you remember from your first sight of him. His fingers rubbing gentle circles into your palm shift into a harsher grip.

"Proof? I-I mean, the cameras have probably caught something?"

You'd say there were eyewitnesses, but all of your other coworkers had been avoiding you. You barely even knew their names...

"Unfortunately, our cameras have been malfunctioning lately, I doubt they'd catch anything. Without any actual witnesses, I'm afraid I can't do anything for you."

"How can you say that without even looking? This place is insane- you know what? I'm just quitting. I can't take this anymore."

You try to remove your hand but he keeps it there. His gaze is suddenly ice cold. He lets your hand go after a few moments of tension, fingers lingering before you yank your hand to your chest.

"Ah, you could quit... but I'd really recommend against it. You'd of course have to pay the dues you signed in your contract, as well as any additional fees. I'm not in charge of finances, but my estimate would be somewhere around... 200 thousand or so?"

You gasp, blood running cold. 200 thousand?! You don't remember signing that, but you also don't recall really reading over the contract in your excitement. You try to think of a way out, surely there had to be some sort of loophole-

"Of course, there's always the option of asking the CEO to change your contract, but..."

You'd tuned anything after that out, insisting to meet with the CEO as soon as possible. Which, to your surprise, was almost immediately. Almost like he'd been... waiting for you? Leon himself lead you to the CEO's room, at the very top of the skyscraper your office resided in. As you're let in, you're met with the biggest office you'd ever seen. It composed of the entire top floor of the skyscraper, massive windows encircling the entire ornate office.

You really try to ignore the feeling that you're walking into a trap.

The CEO was patiently waiting for you. Like a king on a throne, he sat in the middle of the room in front of a surprisingly simple desk. You'd heard of the CEO, Kennedy Grey, but you'd never met him in person before. He had an air of sophistication around him, an older gentlemen with salt and pepper hair and a well trimmed beard. His suit was pristine and looked expensive, probably costing more than your entire yearly salary. He smiled, urging the two of you to sit. His eyes glanced over to Leon's, a slight smirk on his face as if the two were in on a joke you weren't.

"So, what brings you two here? I've heard very good things about you from Jax. Things are going well, I presume?"

You fidget, despite his welcoming tone, he felt oddly... menacing. Like you weren't supposed to disagree with him, even if he asked you a question. You begin to explain your issues, but are quickly stopped with a firm look of disapproval when you bring up the idea of leaving the company.

"Now now, we can't have that, can we? With your contract, that wouldn't be a very smart idea, would it?"

Before you can even respond, he simply continues to talk over you.

"No, no it wouldn't. And you've just been such a good worker, we'd just hate to lose you."

"Well, I was actually hoping we could talk about the contract, I just don't think it's fair-" you can barely get your thoughts out as he cuts you off again.

"Unfair? But my dear, you signed it. I'd just hate to get my lawyers involved... they're top of the line, y'know? Besides, you don't actually want to leave, you're just... stressed. What do you need, a paid week off? A bonus for your hard work?"

"No-"

"Well, now that that's done, let's get back to work, shall we? You'll have a bonus on your next pay-"

You've had enough of his condescension and interruptions, it's time for you to interrupt him.

"You know what, I'll take the lawsuit. You people are insane. You can have the money if you want, but I'm out of here."

As you get up, you find you can't. Leon has moved behind you, surprisingly strong arms holding your chair in, preventing you from moving. You look up at him in angered confusion, but he's sharing a look with Kennedy. You once again feel like you're missing an important part of an inside joke again. You try to struggle, but you're stopped as Kennedy interrupts.

"Apartment 101, Evergreen Apartments, right?"

"W-wha-"

"You know, I've been venturing into the rental market recently. Very profitable at the moment. I actually just bought a few buildings in your area, including your little apartment. Such a shame, you know you could do better, right? All you have to do is ask..."

He smiles at you as if this was a normal conversation to him, like he was doing you a favor.

"I guess that makes me your landlord now, if you think about it!" his smile turns colder, eyes crinkling like he's laughing at you, "That being said, I just don't see how you're going to pay for the rent increase without this job. I hate to do it, but it's a necessity, y'know? Cost of living and such."

He waves his hand like it's no big deal, like he isn't playing with your livelihood and threatening you.

"You could move out, of course, but well, word gets around, and I just don't know how the other investors in the area would react to your... history."

You feel dread well up in the pit of your stomach and tears in your eyes. He... has you. What could you even do? Moving out of the city would mean starting over, and that's if you could even find a place and a job to pay for said place, and paying for the lawsuit-

In your panic, you can only whimper, "I just... why? Why me? i don't understand-"

"That's the beauty of it all, you don't have to. All you have to worry about is coming in and doing your job. We'll handle all the rest."

You jump, having almost forgotten Leon was behind you in your panic. You go to open your mouth-

"Wonderful insight, Leon. Now that we're all on the same foot, let's get back to work, shall we?"

You can only numbly nod your head, too overwhelmed to continue fighting.

You're finally allowed to sit up and begin walking towards the door, trying to speed walk out of the huge room that somehow managed to feel claustrophobic. You just wanted out at this point, you needed somewhere to think.

As you step into the elevator, Leon staying behind in the office-thank god-you're interrupted one final time.

"Oh, and I meant what I said. If you ever need any assistance, anything at all, just come to me. All you have to do is ask."

[fatuismooches]

entertain my midnight brainworms if you will

fragile!reader somehow… SOMEHOW making prime dottore flustered.

maybe they say something really sappy that actually touches dottore’s heart a little too much, or reader is being more affectionate than normal 🤭

at the end of the day, dottore still contains remnants of the flustered, irritable scholar from his youth, and only the warm heart of his sweetheart can reawaken these emotions 🥹

in other words, I really just wanna see primettore blushing and at a loss for words lmao

Despite Dottore's segments having a wide range of personalities, it was surprisingly easier to fluster them than Prime. The reason being that the segments were completely unaccustomed to your wooing methods, while Prime had become familiar with your schemes when he was a student. It's pretty unfair, you think, that Dottore went and grew up into this mature and unaffected man without you, becoming someone who now hardly batted an eye at your teasing. However, you had decided that his heart hadn't completely changed; rather, it just took a different approach to touch it now. Funnily enough, you always have more luck making him blush unintentionally rather than intentionally. With the latter, the scholar seems to see through you and send you back to planning in the corner, not without turning the tables on you first, of course.

One such of these times had occurred a while after you woke up. It was a night where Prime himself had been the last person you saw before going to sleep, helping you get ready for bed and tucking you in. Dottore had thought that would be the end of it before he soon saw you standing in his doorway with a pout. Naturally, the Harbinger found himself with his arms around you in an attempt to coax an answer out of you.

"... I'm sad," you said bluntly, which managed to surprise the scholar, as even though you were pretty open with your feelings (well, especially compared to him), you still hid your negative ones from him when possible. So, this was uncharted territory.

"Tell me what's wrong." Dottore watched as you sighed, rubbing your face into his chest.

"It's kinda dumb..."

"Nonsense," your lover insisted, obviously set on resolving whatever pulled you out of bed and left you glum.

"You forgot." Dottore opened his mouth and paused, suddenly searching his mind for something very important that he may have forgotten. Unfortunately, nothing came up which meant he may have to face your wrath in a few seconds.

"You forgot to give me a good night kiss, and then because you didn't, I didn't get to give you one back, and then I didn't get to say 'I love you' at the end of it. You just turned off the light and left! You ruined the whole process! You were nearly about to make me go a whole day without letting me say I love you!" The sheer disappointment in your voice made it easy to see this was a transgression.

For a few seconds, Dottore's mouth was left agape as he watched you throw your face into his chest in affectionate displeasement, hands pulling around the harness splayed across his shirt. It was really silly; in fact, his younger self would have considered the whole thing a bit stupid and made fun of you, but the way this was a serious concern to you was so you.

The fact that you made it your goal to say those three words every day, while he hardly ever said them, was always a contrast that made him ponder how different you two were. Along with that pondering, this time it came with a loss of words for your adorableness and heat creeping up his neck. Thankfully for Dottore, his silence wasn't picked up by you, who was more interested in fixing the terrible mistake.

"Can we redo it? Please?"

"... Yes. Yes, we can." It was a good thing you were still tired and didn't notice his lack of teasing or the tips of his red ears. Without another word, Dottore picked you up with ease and began heading to the door for a proper good night. By then, his face will be clear of any signs of blushing, and it'll be like nothing happened, but he holds you for a little longer that night.

[bwabys-scenarios]

HXH men that prefer a chubby!wife Part 2

characters: Phinks, Chrollo, Shalnark

warnings: suggestive content

part 1

Phinks

-you cannot convince me he doesn’t prefer a woman with some curves

-he’s so whipped for you, steals you whatever you want

-surprisingly good cook!

-big fan of cuddling up with you and watching movies(he will most certainly be copping a feel)

-he’s a simple man, he likes your boobs and ass

-though won’t deny lying on your thighs while you comb your hands through his hair is nice

-pops a boner if you so much as brush against him

-sweet guy, tries to keep his hard on down when you’re sitting so pretty in his lap

-enjoys taking you from any position that allows him to grab your boobs or hips

-big fan of blowjobs!! just seeing you on your knees in front of him is enough to make him weak

-likes a good titty fuck!!

Chrollo

-okay so I was hesitant to put him here because I really feel like he isn’t the type to care about his partners appearance

-but… let me cook okay

-you work at a library he frequents. chrollo quickly develops a crush after you place your cardigan over his shoulders after he falls asleep while reading

-watches you, a lot. you always feel eyes on you while you’re restocking books.

-eventually gets the courage to ask you out on a date, whisking you away

-loves to have you in his lap, where he can push your skirt up for easy access <3

-handsy, always wants to be squeezing or touching some part of you

-a thigh fan, but loves to be squished between your boobs. it’s strangely comforting!

-enjoys resting with his head on your lap while he reads the book he’d recently picked out to you

-likes to watch your cute butt bounce on his cock. he likes to sit in front of a mirror so you see yourself come undone

-“my pretty girl, so good for me. gonna cum already? it’s alright, go ahead princess.”

-so soft. let’s you get away with almost anything because you’re too cute to punish.

-but he does have a wicked side, so don’t wear that short skirt out in public if you don’t want to be pinned down and denied relief all night long

Shalnark

-he falls in love instantly the moment he sees you

-follows you around like a lovesick puppy, constant texting/calling you when he’s not around

-confesses a bit too quickly, causing you to think he’s asking you out on a joke. he has to reassure you in… a multitude of ways…

-he’s like super horny

-you make some kind of sighing/moaning sound and he’s pouncing on you like a dog in heat

-he’s such a meanie, fingers you while you’re out on a date and forces you to order your own food

-“baby, something wrong? your face is all red :(“

-he loves to rest on your tummy, and kiss all over your boobs and thighs!! you’re so soft that he often falls asleep after a long job right on top of you

-pussy eater 100000% doesn’t go a day without diving between your legs

-you’re horny? he’ll help! stressed out? nothing an orgasm can’t fix!

-such a sweetheart, holds your hand and kisses each of your fingertips every time he comes back from a long job.

-“missed you so so so much. want me to show you how much I wanted you while I was gone?”

[midnightdraftqueen]

Close to the Fire

Ronald Speirs x Nurse!Reader | Fluff + Angst

Warnings: light swearing, mentions of war, period-typical violence, and concentration camps. Suggestive scene, but no smut.

OK BESTIES, here goes nothing! This is my first time actually publishing a fanfic. Constructive criticism is welcome, just be kind about it. I cry easily lol.

Had to start of with one of my fave fandoms and characters… Ronald Speirs from BoB.*

*This story is based solely on the portrayal of the men in the 2001 HBO series, Band of Brothers. It is in no way meant to disparage the actual men of Easy Company or the other countless men and women who risked their lives in World War 2 and armed conflicts since then.

The ground was slick with mud and blood, the air thick with the acrid scent of gunpowder. You knew you had gone too far—crossed the invisible line between safety and chaos—but when you heard the wounded cries from the treeline, hesitation hadn’t been an option.

Now, lying in the dirt with pain radiating from your leg, you regretted nothing.

You blinked against the haze of pain, your breath coming in shallow gasps. The sounds of battle had moved away, but not far enough. If you didn’t get out of here soon, someone would find you, and there was no guarantee it would be a friendly face.

A shadow fell over you, and for a moment, you thought you were done for. Then, sharp eyes met yours—Captain Ronald Speirs, his expression set in stone, his gun slung over his shoulder.

“What the hell were you thinking?” His voice was low, edged with something that might have been anger—or fear.

You tried to push yourself up, but your body refused to cooperate. “Someone… needed help.”

Speirs knelt beside you, assessing the wound with practiced efficiency. A bullet had grazed your thigh, tearing through fabric and flesh. It wasn’t fatal, but the blood loss and shock were taking their toll.

“Yeah? And now someone needs to help you.” He pulled a bandage from his kit, his hands surprisingly gentle as he pressed it against the wound. “Damn foolish thing to do.”

You swallowed hard, wincing. “You’d have done the same.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he tore a strip from his own undershirt to reinforce the bandage. The rough fabric smelled like gunpowder and sweat, but it was warm, grounding.

“Think you can walk?” he asked, his voice softer now.

“I don’t—” You didn’t get the chance to answer before he was shifting, slipping an arm under your shoulders. In one swift motion, he lifted you against him, his grip firm but careful.

“You don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do.” His tone left no room for argument.

You rested your head against his shoulder for a moment, exhaustion winning out. “You’re softer than they say, Captain.”

A huff of amusement, barely there. “Don’t tell anyone.”

As he carried you back toward safety, every step measured and careful, the adrenaline finally wore off, and the pain set in. You bit your lip to keep from whimpering, but Speirs must have noticed because his hold on you tightened slightly.

“Almost there,” he murmured, voice uncharacteristically reassuring.

The world tilted as he eased you behind the nearest cover. He set you down against the base of a tree, kneeling in front of you. His hands moved quickly, checking the wound and fixing the bandage. For a man known for his brutal efficiency in battle, he was remarkably gentle now.

“You should have waited for help,” he muttered.

“I couldn’t,” you admitted, swallowing against the dizziness. “I didn’t think. I just acted.”

Speirs sighed, his expression unreadable. He pulled his canteen from his belt and pressed it into your hands. “Drink.”

You obeyed, the water cool as it calmed your dry throat. He watched you, as if making sure you wouldn’t pass out, before finally speaking again. “As stupid as it was, that was pretty brave for a nurse.”

Your lips quirked in a small smile. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”

He smirked, shaking his head. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

For a moment, the war seemed distant. The gunfire, the shouting, the chaos—it all faded into the background. All that remained was Speirs, his unwavering gaze locked on yours.

——————————- 🪖🪖🪖———————————

Foy came and went in a blur. You heard the story secondhand, from murmuring soldiers and adrenaline-fueled gossip.

“Ran straight through German fire like it was a goddamn Sunday stroll.”

“I thought he was dead for sure, but then he ran back.”

“What kind of man does that?”

The answer, of course, was Ronald Speirs.

When you finally saw him again, he was unfazed, as if he hadn’t just made history with his reckless courage. But you were furious.

You found him, standing near the remnants of a crumbling wall, speaking briefly with a soldier before turning to light a cigarette. He barely acknowledged you as you approached.

“Are you out of your mind?” The words burst from your lips, anger fueled by fear still coursing through your veins.

He exhaled a slow drag from his cigarette before giving you a sideways glance, brow furrowing slightly. “What?”

Your frustration mounted. “You ran through a field of fire. Straight into German machine guns! For God’s sake, do you even realize how close you came to—” You cut yourself off, because saying it out loud made it too real.

Speirs still looked puzzled, like he wasn’t sure what part of this was upsetting you so much. “It worked,” he said simply.

That was it. That was his entire justification.

You threw your hands up. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to lecture me about being reckless, about taking risks, and then turn around and pull something like this a few days later!”

His expression darkened, something raw flashing behind his eyes. “You put yourself in danger because you wanted to help. I put myself in danger because it was the only way to get the job done. I knew what I was getting into when I joined up.”

Speirs exhaled slowly, the smoke from his cigarette curling between you. His expression remained composed, but something flickered in his eyes—something just beneath the surface, like a battle he wasn’t sure he wanted to fight. You continued to meet his gaze in the tense silence.

“I don’t take unnecessary risks,” he finally said.

You let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Unnecessary? You ran through a battlefield, Ron.”

“It had to be done.”

“And if it didn’t work? If you were shot down in the middle of that field?” Your voice wavered, betraying you. “What then?”

More silence was the only answer.

You swallowed hard, pushing past the lump forming in your throat. “I came here knowing I’d see things I’d never be able to forget. I knew the horror, the bloodshed, the death—it’s why I’m here. To care for men like you. But it doesn’t mean I have to stand by and watch you take stupid risks and throw yourself away like your life doesn’t matter.”

Speirs shifted slightly, gaze never leaving yours. “I told you. I’m a soldier. I signed up to fight.”

“I signed up too,” you countered, voice steady despite the pounding in your chest. “You don’t get to act like your choice is more justified than mine. That somehow you not caring about your life makes you more noble. I didn’t come here to watch from a distance. I came here to stand in the middle of it all. I came here for you — every single one of you.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t speak.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The tension, thick and suffocating, crackled like a live wire between you.

Then, just when you thought he might retreat behind that iron-clad mask again, he sighed—a quiet, weary sound, as if something inside him was finally cracking.

His eyes softened, just enough for you to see it. “I care,” he repeated, the words rough, almost reluctant.

Your heart pounded at the admission, at the weight behind them.

But before you could say anything else, before you could make sense of what it all meant, he straightened, the shift almost imperceptible. The moment—this moment—was over.

“We should get back,” he said simply, his voice composed again.

You knew better than to push. But as he turned, you saw the way his fingers curled into a fist, the way his shoulders were just a little too tense.

And you knew—this wasn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

——————————- TIME SKIP ——————————

The smell reached you before anything else. It was thick, rancid, almost suffocating, and it coiled in your lungs like poison. The men of Easy Company had smelled death before—on the battlefield, in the foxholes, in the ruins of war-torn towns. But this was different.

This was something deeper. Something rotting.

You followed the line of men as they advanced cautiously through the trees, rifles lowered, steps careful. No one spoke. The only sound was the distant creak of wind against rusted metal and the occasional sharp caw of crows overhead.

Then you saw it.

The barbed wire fence, twisted and rusted, stretching in jagged lines across the landscape. Beyond it, skeletal figures moved sluggishly, wrapped in tattered rags, their hollow eyes darting toward you with something between fear and disbelief.

A camp.

Your stomach turned violently, a cold shudder crawling up your spine.

The closer you got, the worse it became. Piles of bodies stacked like discarded trash. Wooden barracks that smelled of disease, filth, and despair. And the prisoners—if they could still be called that—stared at you with faces so sunken, so gaunt, that they barely looked human.

You had spent the entire war treating wounds, doing everything in your power to put men back together after battle had torn them apart. But this—this wasn’t battle. This was cruelty.

The men of Easy stood frozen, silent in the face of what they were witnessing.

Winters was the first to move, stepping forward with careful but purposeful steps. He reached the fence, eyes scanning the scene, his jaw clenched so tight you could see the muscle tick.

Leibgott was the first to break the silence. “What the fuck is this?” His voice was hoarse, nearly breaking.

A prisoner—the closest one to the fence—staggered forward, barely able to hold himself up. “Amerikaner?” His voice was barely a whisper, raw and weak.

Winters nodded once, his voice steady. “Yes.”

And then the man fell to his knees, his skeletal fingers gripping the dirt, his shoulders shaking as a broken sob wracked his frail body.

That was all it took. The others moved. Prisoners stumbled toward the fence, some falling before they could even reach it, their bodies too weak to sustain the effort. The sight of them—so thin, so hollowed out by starvation and suffering—made your throat tighten painfully.

A hand touched your arm, and you turned to find Winters watching you. “Go,” he said softly. “Help them.”

You nodded, already moving.

You had seen wounded men before. You had seen limbs mangled by gunfire, men drowning in their own blood, bodies broken beyond repair. But you had never seen this.

It wasn’t just physical. The damage here ran deeper.

You knelt beside a prisoner—an older man, his ribs so pronounced beneath his thin skin that he hardly looked real. His lips were cracked, his fingers trembling as he clutched the corner of his tattered uniform. His breath came in shallow gasps.

“Water,” he rasped.

You uncapped your canteen and held it to his lips, tilting it gently. He drank in weak, desperate gulps, some of it spilling down his chin. You wiped it away with your sleeve, ignoring the sting in your own eyes.

“Easy,” you murmured. “I’ve got you.”

Nearby, the men worked quickly. Spears had been set down, rations passed through the barbed wire, blankets stripped from packs and draped over shivering shoulders. But there were too many.

You turned, scanning the area for Winters. He stood near the fence, speaking with a civilian—one of the local townspeople, a man who looked like he had been dragged here against his will.

“Major,” you called, pushing yourself up and striding toward him.

Winters turned to face you, the strain evident in his expression. “What is it?”

“We need a plan,” you said, your voice tight. “Some of these people can’t even stand. They need food, medical attention—”

“We’re doing what we can,” Winters said, his tone even.

“It’s not enough,” you pressed. “We don’t have the supplies for this.”

Winters nodded, his gaze shifting back to the prisoners. His jaw clenched. “We’ll call in support. Get the word out to command.”

You hesitated. “And the Germans?”

Winters’ expression hardened.

You had both seen the townspeople lingering near the camp, some watching in horrified silence, others looking away entirely. They knew. Maybe they hadn’t been the ones holding the whips, maybe they hadn’t pulled the triggers, but they had known.

“They’re already being rounded up,” Winters said, his voice cold.

A flicker of something dark and furious burned in your chest, but you pushed it down. There was too much to do.

You turned back to the prisoners.

No time to think about justice. Not yet.

——————————- 🪖🪖🪖———————————

Later that night, you tried to keep busy. You had moved from one weakened body to another, doing what you could, but it was never enough. You could still hear their cries, still see the haunted eyes of those who had survived.

Now, standing outside the makeshift HQ, your hands clenched into fists at your sides, your entire body thrummed with something you couldn’t name.

Rage.

Despair.

Hate.

It boiled inside you, a violent, sickening thing that made you want to scream, to cry, to throw up, to kill the men who did this with your bare hands just to feel something other than helplessness.

Footsteps approached, and you didn’t need to turn to know it was Speirs.

He stopped beside you, silent for a long moment.

Then—“You need to breathe.”

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh, your throat tight. “Don’t tell me to breathe.”

Speirs didn’t flinch. “You want to hit something?”

“Yes,” you admitted through gritted teeth.

“Then hit me.”

You turned to face him, and for a moment, you actually considered it. But there was no mockery in his expression, no amusement. Just quiet understanding.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “I need something good.”

Speirs watched you, his expression unreadable. Then, before you could think, before you could stop yourself, you surged forward, grabbing the front of his jacket and pulling him to you.

You kissed him. Hard.

For a moment, he let you. Let you pour every ounce of rage and frustration and need into the kiss. Then, with a quiet groan, he pulled back just enough to look at you.

“Not like this.” His voice was rough, strained. “Not when you’re hurting.”

Your breathing was uneven. “Ron—”

His hands found your face, his touch uncharacteristically soft. “When it happens, I want it to be because we’re choosing each other. Not because of the war. Not because of anger.”

You swallowed hard. “Okay.”

“Come here.” He pulled you into his arms.

You buried your face against his chest, his warmth steady, solid.

“Stay?” you asked quietly.

He didn’t hesitate. “Yeah,” he said before following you inside.

And as you drifted off, his arms still around you, Speirs stayed awake.

Watching.

Thinking.

Trying to understand what the hell he was supposed to do with this thing growing between you.

Something dangerous.

Something real.

——————————- 🪖🪖🪖———————————

The official word came down: Hold positions. Hitler was dead. The Nazis surrendered. The war in Europe was over.

Some of the men cheered, others just stood in stunned silence. The weight of years of fighting, of constant survival, finally settled onto their shoulders, leaving them exhausted, relieved, and restless all at once.

You barely had time to process it yourself before Easy Company made their way up the winding roads to Kehlsteinhaus—Hitler’s prized Eagle’s Nest.

The view was breathtaking, mountains stretching endlessly beyond the horizon. But it wasn’t the luxury or the stolen wealth that stuck with you. It was the absurdity of it.

All this opulence, all this grandeur, and yet it had been built by men who let their fellow humans starve in camps not far from here.

You tried not to dwell on it. Tried to enjoy the moment with the people around you.

But Speirs? He disappeared almost immediately.

“Where the hell did Speirs go?” you muttered, arms crossed as you stood with Lipton and a few of the other nurses.

Lipton smirked knowingly. “Scavenging.”

You huffed. “Of course.”

It was well known that Speirs had some seriously sticky fingers. From pieces of jewelry to entire silverware sets. The man had plundered his way through half of Europe in his spare time.

“He actually asked us for some help,” Lip said, rubbing the back of his neck, his amusement evident.

You blinked. “He what?”

Before Lipton could answer, one of the nurses—Hannah—giggled beside you. “He came back with a dress. An actual dress.”

You stared at her. “You’re joking.”

“Nope,” Lip confirmed, suppressing a grin. “Found it in one of the houses. Brought it back and asked if we could, uh… ‘make it work.’”

A slow, stunned smile crept onto your lips. “Ronald Speirs found a dress for me?”

Hannah nodded. “It’s actually beautiful. Little wrinkled, but it’ll do. And he asked us to get you ready tonight.”

Your stomach flipped, warmth creeping into your chest.

Speirs wasn’t the kind of man who said things outright. He didn’t do grand confessions or flowery words. But this? This was more than enough.

You turned to Lipton. “And what’s your role in all this?”

He chuckled. “Helping him set up a dinner. Well, his version of a dinner.”

“Which means?”

Lip gave you a knowing look. “You’ll see.”

——————————- 🪖🪖🪖———————————

The sun was beginning to set when Hannah and the others finished their work.

You stared at yourself in the broken mirror of the commandeered bedroom, running your hands down the fabric of the deep blue dress. It wasn’t extravagant, but it fit well enough, and after years of nothing but military fatigues, it felt strange—good, but strange.

Your hair was pinned back as best as it could be, and when you stepped outside, the fresh mountain air sent a pleasant chill across your skin.

Speirs was waiting just outside one of the empty halls, hands in his pockets, his usual composed expression in place. But when he looked at you, you swore you saw something shift—something unreadable but warm.

“Didn’t think you’d actually wear it,” he said, tilting his head slightly.

You smirked. “You went through the trouble of looting it. Figured I should.”

He stepped closer, his gaze sweeping over you. “Looks good on you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you masked it with a teasing grin. “Careful, that almost sounded like a compliment.”

His lips twitched. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

He offered his arm, and you took it without hesitation.

The “dinner” was set up on a balcony overlooking the valley. A bottle of wine—also pilfered—sat on a small table along with a few plates of whatever food Lipton had managed to scrounge up from the kitchens.

It was simple. No candles, no extravagant decorations. But it was real.

Speirs pulled out a chair for you before sitting across from you, pouring the wine without a word.

You swirled the glass, watching him as he leaned back slightly, eyes on the horizon. “So,” you mused, “was this your idea, or did Lipton bully you into it?”

Speirs smirked faintly. “I don’t think Lip has ever bullied anyone. He did help me put together a plan.”

Your chest ached at the thought of him putting effort into this. “Why?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he took a sip of wine, the soft breeze ruffling his hair. Then, finally—“Because you deserved something good.”

The lump in your throat nearly stole your words.

You reached across the table, fingers brushing against his. “So do you.”

He didn’t pull away.

——————————- 🪖🪖🪖———————————

The room was dimly lit when you reached it later that night.

You had barely closed the door when Speirs caught your wrist, tugging you gently against him. His hands found your waist, steady but certain, his forehead resting against yours.

You inhaled sharply. “Ron—”

“I want this,” he murmured, voice low. “I need you to know that.”

Your fingers trailed up his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. “Then don’t stop me this time.”

He didn’t.

His lips crashed into yours, the composure he always wore finally breaking. His hands were everywhere—trailing down your back, pressing you flush against him as he walked you back toward the bed.

It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t frantic. It was deliberate.

For once, neither of you were caught in the middle of a war.

For once, you were just two people, rediscovering what it meant to be alive.

Every touch, every kiss, was unspoken confirmation—I’m here. I want this.

When he finally laid you down, hovering above you with a rare softness in his eyes, he hesitated. “Are you sure?”

You curled your fingers into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him down. “Ron, I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

And so he kissed you again—deeply, reverently.

This was no battlefield, no reckless moment of desperation.

This was something real.

Speirs remained awake long after you had drifted off, your body curled against his.

He traced idle patterns against your bare shoulder, his mind restless.

He had spent years convincing himself that attachments were dangerous, that caring too much would only lead to loss.

But here you were.

And for the first time in a long, long while, he didn’t feel the need to run.

——————————- 🪖🪖🪖———————————

The waiting was the worst part. The war was over in Europe, but still raging elsewhere.

Days passed with no word on whether Easy Company would be sent to the Pacific. Some of the men started relaxing, letting the weight of the war finally ease off their shoulders. Others remained on edge, unwilling to believe the fight was over.

Talbert, lucky bastard, won the lottery and was getting sent home.

You found him sitting on a crate outside one of the barracks, scrawling another letter to the girl he never stopped writing to. Smirking, you leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. “She’s gonna be sick of hearing from you by the time you get back.”

Talbert grinned, unfazed. “Not a chance.”

You sat beside him, nudging his boot with yours. “Tell me the truth, Talbert. You gonna marry this girl?”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “I’d propose the second I stepped off the train if I thought it wouldn’t scare her half to death.”

You nudged him again, teasing. “Oh, I think she’s stuck with you at this point. No way she wrote back this many times without knowing what she was getting into.”

Talbert grinned. “Yeah… yeah, maybe.”

You smiled, but deep down, your stomach twisted. You were happy for him—you really were—but as you watched him tuck away the letter, reality crept in.

What if Easy was reassigned? What if the war wasn’t really over?

And worse—what if they went to the Pacific, and you didn’t?

The thought nearly stole your breath.

Talbert must’ve caught something in your expression because his grin faded slightly. “You okay?”

You forced a smirk. “Yeah, just thinking about home.”

He let it go, but you knew he didn’t buy it.

That night, you found Speirs sitting outside one of the barracks, smoking, his Thompson resting against the wooden steps. The sight of him—so steady, so composed—made something in you snap.

You sat beside him, exhaling sharply. “I’m scared.”

He didn’t look at you right away, just flicked his cigarette into the dirt. “Of what?”

You swallowed, staring at the dark horizon. “Of getting left behind. Of you all going to the Pacific without me.”

Speirs was quiet for a long moment. Then, finally—“You think I’d let that happen?”

You turned to him, brows knitting together. “Ron, it’s not exactly up to you.”

“No,” he admitted. Then, after a pause, “But this is.”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small gold ring, the metal glinting faintly under the dim light.

Your breath hitched.

It wasn’t extravagant—simple, a little worn—but it was undoubtedly an engagement ring.

And, knowing Speirs, it was also undoubtedly looted.

Your heart pounded. “Ron—”

“Whether I have to jump into Japan or not,” he said, his voice steady, unwavering, “I know one thing for certain—I’m not letting you leave Europe without my last name.”

A laugh—breathless, disbelieving—escaped you. “You stole an engagement ring?”

He smirked. “You expected anything else?”

You stared at him, your chest aching in the best possible way.

Then, slowly, you reached for his hand, curling your fingers around his. “You better mean this, Speirs.”

His grip tightened slightly. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

That was all you needed.

——————————- 🪖🪖🪖———————————

Two days later, the entire company gathered in the open field just outside the barracks. The sun hung low in the sky, casting everything in a soft golden light.

An army chaplain stood at the front, flipping through his worn Bible, waiting patiently. Winters stood beside you, adjusting his uniform, looking strangely at ease in his role.

And then there was Speirs.

He stood tall in his formal uniform, his polished boots planted firmly in the grass, looking every bit the legend he had become. Beside him, Lipton stood as his best man, hands clasped behind his back, a proud but amused smile on his face.

You, on the other hand, were adjusting the fabric of your dress—another ‘find’ from one of the local homes —fitted as best as you could manage with the help of your fellow nurses. It wasn’t perfect, but it was clean, and for the first time in a long time, you felt soft again.

Winters cleared his throat beside you. “Ready?”

You nodded, taking his offered arm. “You’re sure about this, Major? I mean I know I don’t exactly have family here to walk me down the aisle, but I could always walk alo…,” he didn’t give you the chance to finish.

Winters gave you a rare, soft smile. “Family isn’t just blood. It’s my honor to do this.”

Your throat tightened. You squeezed his arm gently. “Thank you.”

Then, the two of you walked forward.

Speirs’ gaze locked onto you immediately, and for the first time in your entire relationship—if you could call it that—you swore you saw something like awe in his eyes.

When you reached him, Winters gave you a small nod before stepping aside.

Speirs eyed your dress, his smirk barely hidden. “Where’d you get that?”

You smirked back. “You’re not the only one with scavenging skills, Captain.”

Lipton huffed a quiet laugh beside him.

Speirs chuckled, shaking his head slightly. Then, his expression softened. “You look beautiful.”

Your heart flipped, warmth blooming in your chest. “Careful, that almost sounded like a compliment.”

His lips twitched. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

The chaplain cleared his throat, and the ceremony began.

It was quick, simple, but perfect. When Speirs slid the ring onto your finger, his hands were steady, his grip sure.

Then, as soon as the chaplain pronounced you husband and wife, Speirs didn’t hesitate.

He pulled you to him and kissed you, slow and deep, his hands curling around your waist like he wasn’t letting go.

Applause and cheers erupted from the men, Lipton giving an approving nod while Luz whooped loud enough for half the barracks to hear.

But none of that mattered.

Because as you pulled back, catching your breath, Speirs met your gaze, and in that moment, you knew

No matter what came next, no matter where they were sent—

You were his.

And he was yours.

——————————- 🪖🪖🪖———————————

EPILOGUE

Colonel Sink signed off on the marriage paperwork the next morning, making everything official in the event Speirs and the boys were reassigned.

But, as fate would have it, the war ended before that could happen.

Easy Company wasn’t sent to the Pacific.

They went home. Together.

And Ronald Speirs, the man everyone swore was made of steel, returned with his wife.

[yanderes-galore]

Just curious, what would a yandere blackbeard from one piece be like? Concept of course

Ah, yes, evil man. Here you go! I hope the idea is okay as I wasn't quite sure what to do with him...?

Yandere! Marshall D. Teach Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Violence, Murder, Kidnapping, Isolation, Deception, Forced companionship/relationship.

Teach is a very unpredictable man when it comes to anything....

Yet I will say he's persistent when it comes to getting what he wants.

He spends a lot of time plotting certain events to get what he wants.

Also, out of all the One Piece pirates, he's probably one of the most accurate pirates to real world pirates.

He cheats, lies, steals, and is selfish through and through.

He wants power and makes elaborate plans to get it.

If he wanted someone, well I don't doubt he'd steal them like everything else.

Because he certainly isn't winning you over with looks alone. (maybe....)

He does have charisma, though.

It's hard to read a man like him but somehow he manages to trick people.

He's damn good at it too.

Another thing to note is that Teach acts like a walking contradiction.

He's both brave and cowardly... careful yet also reckless...

He's an opportunist who's guided by greed.

There's a good chance he's going to be horrible with his obsession.

Especially if he likes you as a romantic partner.

It would be so hard to tell if he actually cares about you... or just wants something in return.

He can be pretty rough at times.

Although, since he's so much bigger than you, he would need to be gentle too.

Teach is a deceptive yandere.

I imagine at first he tries to charm you naturally.

You're a pretty face who caught his eye... Why don't you come over and let him have a look?

He's surprisingly charismatic with you.

Despite his appearance and abhorrent behavior at times, he can sweet talk someone.

He's calm, playful, relaxed... and believes pirate life should be fun.

He no doubt tries to convince you to join his crew when he meets you.

He isn't really one for courting or taking his time.

He can have varied patience when getting what he wants.

If he sees the chance to just take what he wants...

He's obviously going to do that.

He no doubt met you on an island his crew stayed at while his boat got fixed....

After that he's been fascinated.

You're like a treasure in your own right...

You're nice to look at, soft to the touch, and have such a sweet voice....

Such traits are what made Teach want you.

He sees you for a few days in passing, always wanting to speak to you and see your charms again.

Eventually he's going to ask you to join his crew...

Then he'll make it a demand...

After that he's just taking you, not caring about kidnapping you in the slightest.

Pirates steal, don't they?

He doesn't bother tricking you if he knows his words won't work.

Instead he decides to order his crew to capture you.

To him, it's all very easy.

He can just have what he wants.

Teach is a ruthless person too, he has no issues killing.

He isn't much of a fighter though... He much rather uses deception to have others fight his battles.

Teach may also be possessive of you due to his competitive nature.

Teach would expect his obsession to get used to him.

Look, you'll love being by his side eventually, right?

He'll show you being on his crew is fun, especially when he gets the power he wants.

One may not think it but Teach is skilled in manipulation and lying.

He wouldn't threaten you, but there is some coercion.

He tells you that he chose you to be his partner.

You're going to be the spouse of the future Pirate King.

He'll show you that it's the best role you can get.

He isn't too bloody when getting rid of those he thinks are in his way.

Mostly because his Devil Fruit takes care of that for him.

Although... He may also finish them off.

He has a tendency to finish fights when he knows he can win.

He's an opportunist, after all.

Teach also seems like the touchy type.

He no doubt wants to hold his obsession in some way, after all, he thinks you're soft.

You're his treasure, sometimes he's considerate of how you feel.

Most of the time he's trying to force you into activities though.

It would be difficult to get away from Teach since he always has an eye on you as his partner.

That and his Devil Fruit allows him to set up traps, so he could easily have his fruit spit you back to him.

Teach may even make crude remarks, like it's his form of teasing.

Teach would not care if he had to get rid of anyone close to you to have you.

All he cares about is making you his.

A lot of blood is on his hands, unfortunately.

So if you're close to anybody...

He may just use his Devil Fruit on them.

Teach is a terrifying man, especially as a new Emperor of The Sea.

While he is incompetent at times, Teach is still one of the strongest out there on the seas.

He'd be a fool to let you escape and wander without him.

All you can really do is play the role of loyal lover until he's defeated... Which considering his power...

Who knows when that will be?

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

Friends to Lovers is for the Fairytales

Word Count - roughly 4500

Author's note: thanks for reading as always, I am finally going through and fixing the grammar errors that I am sure is in here. Originally this was suppose to be just a simple one-shot. But people were asking asking so I made it into a mini series.

Possible Triggers - friends with benefits established, use of Y/N, LOTS of arguing, light gaslighting

Summary: When you met Jack and everything just clicked for the first time in your life. You thought that meant that you would finally get your happy ever after but maybe that isn't the case.

First Chapter Chapter 2

If you looked back on your life for the past 6 months and asked to describe it in one word. Your counter argument would be to ask them “What is the word that describes the best time and the worst times of your life wrapped up in one?” Would this be the definition of a silver lining? No, it would be the opposite because at least a silver lining would get you a happy ending. This, you currently standing in the pouring rain, ruined makeup from not only the rain but your tears, struggling to breath while you looked at the man who you thought was the center of the universe. Only to discover he was the villain of your origin story. This could only be described in one word and that is pain. 

If you could go back in time and listen to your friend when she told you that friends to lovers was for romance novels and not real life. Instead of laughing her off, telling her you were an exception to the rule you would have listened to, because she was in fact correct when she said “ loving and being loved by Jack Hughes is a fairytale not a reality.”

You first met Jack a year ago when you were forced by your best friend to go to one of New Jersey Devils home games. At the time she was talking to someone who was into hockey. Her brilliant idea to invite him to a game to get a date and ended about as well as it did for Rachel on Friends. The only difference was she got stuck with the tickets and decided to “fuck off men and make the game a girls night.” Anna actually ended up getting you pretty good tickets right behind the net. The thing was neither you nor Anna knew much about hockey and saw it as a night to get drunk off expensive drinks in the stadium and watch men fight each other kind of night. Since you were in the second row it was easy for Jack to spot you. He smiled at you and you were tipsy, you may or may not have slid into his DMs that night. Surprisingly to you the next morning, you woke up to a response from him and that’s how you started becoming friends. 

Although for Jack and you the line between friend and talking was one and the same for you both. In fact Luke asked Jack on multiple occasions if he wasn’t sure you guys were dating. Every-time Jack denied it, even when Luke mentioned that he has lost count in the amount of times he’s come home and seen you both cuddled asleep on the coach. Or the fact that when you go out with the team, Jack is attached to your hip giving death glares to any guy who even glances your way even if it’s one of his teammates, especially if it’s one of his teammates. The lines were blurred on both ends both telling everyone you didn’t see each other that way and them joking back asking when the wedding was. Neither of you seemed to really care what others thought and just kept living in your little bubble until the bubble burst. Now at the time 6 months ago, when you and Jack shared that drunken kiss and ended up hooking up in the back of his car. You felt on top of the world. Finally everything was falling into place, you were going to get your happily ever after ending. No you never had the “boyfriend/girlfriend talk” and you still didn’t use titles. But you knew you were his and he was yours. To you that’s all that mattered in the end. 

Little did you know your perfect bubble you created would come crashing down on a random Tuesday night. It started with having one of the shittest days you’ve had in a while, everything that could possibly go wrong did. Your alarm never went off because you forgot to set it the night before. So you woke up when you were supposed to head out the door. Which turned into you rushing around your apartment, trying to hurry to get ready so you weren’t extremely late to work. Of course as you were getting your car, your coffee spilled everything all over your white shirt and middle console of your car. Then you get to work 10 minutes late and have to hear about it all day from your boss. On top of the fact that you also happened to forget your lunch due to rushing around this morning. It just truly was a day from hell and by the time you got back home, you were in tears feeling extremely overwhelmed. All you wanted to do was shower and possibly order food because the idea of cooking made your stomach churn. 

You had finally gotten out of the shower and already started to feel better once you were dressed in some sweats. You were walking into your living room with the idea of just sitting on the coach, scrolling through Doordash to decide what to order when you heard a knock on the door. You didn’t even have to open the door to know that it was Jack. You remembered there was his teammate Nico's girlfriend’s little sister’s birthday tonight, which you had no plans of attending. One because you had only met the new girlfriend once and you could barely remember her name Sasha maybe? And two because it’s a fucking Tuesday and you had work the next day. That was before you had a day from hell and had no social battery left.

But Jack was persistent in trying to get you to say yes, which usually worked simply by showing his face at your apartment. Reductively you went to the door to answer partly just to get him to stop his persistent knocking. As you answered the door, you asked “Jack what are you doing here? Don’t you have a party to get ready for?” You started to make your way back to the living room knowing that Jack would follow you and close the door behind him. 

“Listen I know originally you didn’t wanna go tonight but I was thinking it might be just the thing you need to get your mind of work.” He said with a giant grin on his face as if this is the best idea he’s had all month.

“Jack I had an actual day from hell, I haven’t even answered Anna’s texts yet from earlier today. I have yet to eat anything, like all day. I was late to work today and had to hear about it all day. My social battery is literally in the negatives right now. The LAST thing I want to do is go to a random bar to celebrate some girl’s birthday that I’ve never even met.” You say as a sigh leaves your mouth as you plop yourself on the coach. 

“Okay first I’m sorry you had a bad day baby. But this isn’t a random girl you’ve never met before. You met Stacey’s sister before you knew Emerson before. You know the girl that Luke is talking to? Plus it’s her 21st. That's like the biggest birthday.” He says as makes his way into your kitchen to grab himself a glass of water. Gesturing to see if you want one too but you shake your head no. 

“Okay well I didn’t know it was the same girl but still I don’t wanna go Jackey.” As you start to lay down on the coach and whine, similar to a toddler having a tantrum. “I’m really really tired and if it’s her 21st that means everyone is gonna get trashed and I have work tomorrow early. The last thing I wanna do is go in hungover as fuck. Plus I haven’t eaten anything all day and I’m hungry. You of all people, know I’ll get trashed sooner than everyone else due to not eating. And I hate being the drunk girl at those types of things.” You say as your eyes follow Jack back to the living room as he sits the glass of water on the coffee table. 

Jack slowly beds down to eye level and slowly combs the strand pieces of hair out of your face. It took everything in you to ignore the flutters your stomach was making and not lean into his touch. Jack took his other hand that wasn’t on your cheek and rubbed it down your side landing on your hip pushing you closer to him. He looked down at you with those big puppy dog eyes as he was resting on the balls of his feet. “Please Y/N It literally won’t be the same without you, who’s gonna help me bully Luke when he scores out with Emerson. Or who’s gonna listen to Nico’s drunken stories in GERMAN I might add which you don’t even understand without yelling at him that you don’t care. Please Y/N I need you.”

It took all the strength you have to say “Jack you don’t need me, you want me to go because you don’t want to be by yourself. But you're a big boy and one night at a shitty bar won’t kill you. Besides, I had the day from hell from the moment I opened my eyes.“

Jack cut you off with a counter argument “see and what better way to end your day then to go out with friends.”

“I can think of about 100 different things that would end my day better without me even leaving this apartment..”

“Yes but none of those ideas involve me, please baby I need you with me.” He begged. You knew at that moment that this wasn’t going to end the way Jack wanted to and it would turn into a fight. With a sigh you sat up as you prepared your body for the impact of the fight that was bound to start.

“Jack, I love you but I said no. I need to stay home and get a proper night of sleep. I don’t want to go to a random bar and, as I said earlier, be hungover at work tomorrow. Some of us have normal jobs where we actually have to work year round and every work day.” You said harshly and as soon as it left your mouth you were about to apologize until Jack stood up and opened his mouth, 

“Oh come on Y/N” he snapped at you. “That’s real rich coming from you making a dig at me because you don’t have the luxury of having tomorrow off. You know you never complained about my job when I got you those concert tickets you wanted so badly? Or when I got that reservation at the new restaurant in town without even having to be put on a fucking waiting list. This is just like you, constantly complaining to me. I mean I ask for one thing and all it is from you is excuses! By the way, mind you, I have media tomorrow.” He says defensively. Each word gets louder and with more attitude then the last. 

“Ohhh my bad you had to sit in front of a camera probably in the late afternoon, and listen to people glut your ego even more than it already is.” You say as you stand up, the tiredness that consumed your body is now being replaced by pure red. “First off, I never asked for those things Jack! You gave them to me as gifts and when I tried to pay you back you straight up refused. To the point where you denied my venmo requests. So don’t throw a gift in my face! Secondly I have never once given a fuck that you play hockey, yes that’s how we met but that’s not how we got here. The fact that your even implying that is fucking ridiculous. Oh and by the way you CONSTANTLY ask for things and I give them to you because that’s what being in a relationship is about sacrifice. The one fucking time - I ask for a break your gaslighting me.” By the end you can feel the tears slowly threatening to come out from exhaustion or anger you're not sure.

“Y/N I-” you can see the regret on Jack’s face slowly coming out, as he tries to close the space between you both. 

“No not now, Get out I don’t wanna see you right now.” You exclaim clear as day, so there is no confusion.

“Y/N pl-” He softly says.

“Did you not hear me” the anger can be seen in your eyes at this point. “GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY PLACE” You scream with your entire being. You stood there arms wrapping around yourself as you watched Jack’s expression harden as he turned on his toes and left. But not before slamming the door pissed at you for not immediately forgiving him like you usually did when you fought. 

As soon as the doors slammed you fell on your couch just letting all the tears fall freely from your face. Just wishing you could just go to sleep and wake up tomorrow, only to find this was all some type of twisted dream. You ended up ordering some pizza, once it got there you sat on the coach and rewatched your favorite comfort show. You ended up falling asleep to take a nap around 7 and woke up around 10:30, T.V still blaring, you hear your phone buzzing under you. Finally when you're able to get from under you, you can see multiple missed texts from Jack,.

My Love 🏒 @ 10:34 PM

Hhhiii

I am sorry

I didn’t mean to hurt you and i love you 

So much more then you could ever know babygirl

I miss you

I wish you were here 

All the texts are literally within 30 seconds of each other. At first you tried to ignore Jack’s first couple messages, writing it off as him being drunk. Jack tended to be even more likely to share his feelings and more touchy when he was tipsy. But then you hopped on Instagram to do some mindless scrolling and saw Nico girlfriend’s Stacey’s private Instagram story where everyone looked like they were having a blast. Everyone except your precious Jack who looked like he was a puppy who literally had just been kicked. Your phone dinged again, another text from Jack, 

My Love 🏒 @ 10:39 PM

I know you saw my messages baby 

Did you forget we have our read receipts on cause we love each other

I know you were tired from work and didn’t wanna come out

But I wish I could do shots with you instead of Luke

He always looks like an energetic bunny when the bartenders serve him without even asking for his fake ID.

Still deciding if you're going to answer Jack or not purely because you weren’t sure you were ready to after earlier tonight.  You decide to watch some more T.V and get your mind to relax before you will literally pass out again from exhaustion. Your phone dings again, you were prepared to answer a very annoyingly tipsy Jack just so he could stop texting you. But you were surprised when it came through as a video sent to you by Jesper. You clicked on the video. It's obvious that it’s Jesper and some girl dancing. You can tell from the video that the girl is holding the phone, while both of Jesper’s hands are around her hips. Suddenly you can see in the background Jack and Luke talking. Jesper quickly takes his phone and then flips the camera around to the pair. He zooms in on Jack looking quite sad and almost lost and then turns the camera back around so it's facing himself. “Listen Y/N can you please come get him, I told him to go home to you but he won’t listen and keeps saying something about you don’t want him there and if he keeps drinking he is going to start crying and you know the team won’t ever let that go. So really for his own reputation being protected can you come pick his ass up. Also love you and hope this didn’t wake you up. Cause you're scary when someone messes with your sleep.” 

The video ends as quickly as it began and you chuckle at the comment about your sleep. After some mental debating, you decided to just go to the bar at least to pick Jack up. You hated fighting with him anyway and him looking all sad made your heart hurt. You decided to surprise Jack and not let him know you were coming because then he wouldn’t leave you alone until you got there. You decided to get changed out of your sweats - well Jack sweats - before you left. You decided to wear just a basic pair of black jeans, a t-shirt and some air force ones. As you glance in the mirror you chuckle to yourself as you are dressed exactly like something Quinn would wear. You swear to yourself you used to dress nicer before you started talking to Jack. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once you find a parking spot and get out of your car. You silently curse to yourself as the clouds open up and rain pours down hard. You started to lightly jog down the street to get into the bar before you became completely soaked. Once you got through the bouncer and got your ID back you stepped into the dimly lit bar. Immediately you're met by Jesper and the girl you recognize from the video. 

“Oh my God Y/N you're here! Wow well let’s just get you a drink” as he is obviously trying to steer you to the bar. The girl standing on the other side of you.

“No Jesper I just came to get Jack and go home. I drove here. I'm not drinking. Where’s Jack?” You ask and that’s when you turn to face Jesper and you spot the rest of the hockey team taking up a few tables near the back. In the far corner you spot Jack, but before you can feel relief for finding him so quickly. You immediately become nausious  because he’s cuddling up with a girl. A girl you recognized off instagram as one of those New Yorker model/influencers and before you can make yourself turn away. You saw them kissing, you felt sick, your stomach dropping. You shouldn’t be this upset since you knew who Jack was when you met him. Hell you were one of the girls who slid into his DMs. Jesper catches your eye as the random girl behind you touches your shoulder trying to comfort you. 

“Y/N.” Jesper says softly. 

“Nope, don't. I’m not upset really, it’s not like we were together or anything just some fuck buddies right? He can do whatever he wants and fuck we both can do whatever the fuck we want right.” You tell him as you turn to the bar. “Well I want a drink but not here. I’m going home. Hey, can you do me a favor?”

“Anything.” Jesper whispers as his eyes soften as they look at you. 

“Don’t tell anyone I was here, especially Jack.” 

“Of course Y/N. I am sorry by the way.”

As you turn to leave you make eye-contact with Luke from across the bar and you knew you had to get out of here quickly. Even if Jesper promised not to tell anyone the Hughes brothers were always loyal to each other. It was one of the things you admired about Jack and his brothers when you met him. 

“Family is forever,” he told you one night. 

“Like Lilo and Stitch really J?”

“Okay don’t be a hater of where it comes from, the point stands. My brothers will always be here for me and I will be there for them.” He told you as he threw his arms around you as you laid on the coach.  “Just like I’ll always be here for you sweets.” As he gently kissed your cheek. 

You made it all the way out of the bar, storm fully in force now. Even the bouncer decided to abandon his outside post in order to stay dry. Once your feet hit the pavement, you took a second to let yourself feel all your emotions. You let out a soft scream of pure pain. It felt as if your heart was on fire, as you put your hands on your knees to help you catch your breath. But then your anxiety kicked in and you could feel the start of a panic attack starting. You wanted to move your feet because you knew Jack was going to be exiting the bar soon once Luke told him you were at the bar. But you can’t focus on anything as the anxiety overtakes your body. You could feel your nails digging into your knees just trying to bring you back down to Earth. Then you feel someone touch your shoulder. You assumed it was one of the WAGS or another teammate who might have seen everything go down. But then you hear his voice, Jack’s voice “Baby, Y/N it’s okay breath.-” 

As soon as your brian registers that it’s Jack you feel your body push him away. As you turn around not caring if he can see the tears softly starting to form in your eyes. “No - no” As you turn to quickly try to go to your car, each step faster than the last, until you're practically sprinting. 

You didn’t have to turn around to know that Jack was following after you. Jack would always come after you. He held your heart like a bungee cord, you might be able to walk away for a little bit. But in the end it would always snap back to Jack’s hands. 

“Wait please slow down Y/N/N-” he yells, speeding up his walking as you pick up your speed even more down the street. But when you hear his attempt to use that nickname you stop suddenly and turn around. 

“No you don’t get to call me that! That name is reserved for family and friends! And you don’t belong in either of those categories anymore.” You yell at him, barely able to hear yourself over the rain and pounding of your heart in your ears. You hope it sounded a lot more direct and hurtful than it sounded in your head. It must have done the trick because through your tears you could see Jack physically wince. 

“Please Y/N I’m sorry. It didn’t mean anything to me okay. She came up to me and-” he started explaining but stopped when you put your hand up.

“Jack, please don’t hurt me more than you already have by telling me your bullshit excuses.” you plead. 

“It’s not bullshit! It’s the truth. I am sorry. I never meant to hurt you.” He says the ending a lot softer, almost a whisper compared to the screaming a few moments prior. 

“What are we doing Jack? I thought we were together, I thought you cared about me? But here we are, I can't do this.” you tell him, the tears streaming clearly down your face, the little bit of makeup you have on is now smearing. 

“Please baby… don’t say that. I do care about you, you know that. i - we weren’t together I didn’t know.” Jack argues. 

“Please you knew, you knew but you got caught in the moment. Saying you didn’t know would be like me not knowing the sky is blue or that the Earth isn’t round. I mean - FUCK - everyone knew Jack! I mean your mom calls me once a week to check-in with me. My mom asks about you whenever I talk to her on the phone. I mean I spend more nights in your bed than I do on my own. Geez even Anna asked me if I wanted to resign the lease for another year next month, or if I was moving in with you finally. So, don’t tell me you didn’t know, you knew. But for some reason you stopped yourself from accepting it. I don’t know, maybe you didn’t wanna settle for someone not famous, maybe it’s cause I don’t look like all the other WAGs, or maybe you were scared. Honestly I don’t give a shit what your excuse is or was for that matter. I am done Jack.” The tears slowly start to stop following down your face as you take another step back creating more space between you and Jack. 

You knew with each word you spoke you were hurting Jack more and more. But, in the moment you couldn’t bring yourself to care especially when he opened his mouth next. 

“Yeah, well.. You know if you would have just come tonight, that girl probably would have never come up to me. She said she only came up to me because-” but before he could finish his final blow someone cut him off. 

“Jack!” Nico yelled, finally catching up to us. “That’s enough man. Your fucking drunk. Don’t say something you can’t fix in the morning” He says finally catching up to Jack. Softly putting his arms around his upper body, whether to stop him following you once you left or help him stand up straight you were unsure. 

“I can’t keep doing this to myself” you softly proclaim, not sure if you're telling yourself or Jack. “I deserve better, and honestly so do you. I can’t keep loving you with my entire being. While you can’t even admit that we were in a committed relationship.And you saying that you cheating tonight was basically my fault” You say as you look into Jack’s eyes. Somehow your words broke Jack. His anger from moments ago became deep regret. 

“We never had the talk.” He whispers whether to himself or you it’s unclear but it lights a fire inside you, Nico slowly detached himself from Jack recognizing that neither of you probably wanted him there for this. He slowly made some distance between himself and Jack. 

“My god Jack for once in your life - open your goddamn eyes - okay yes we didn’t say it! We didn’t say that we were exclusive! But you know what we did talk about? We talked about having KIDS one day, getting MARRIED, living in MICHIGAN TOGETHER in the off seasons, traveling to Europe TOGETHER. So don’t - you don’t get to use that as your excuse!” By the end of your speech your throat was sore - you didn’t know if it was from the crying or screaming - perhaps a mixture of both. 

“I’m sorry Y/N '' Jack says, refusing to even look in your eyes anymore, instead finding comfort in staring at his shoes. 

“I know you are, but I can’t do this. Goodbye Jack.” you announce. Like it was some type of public service announcement that you were done with Jack. That you were done with the games and for the first time in your life you were choosing yourself. A small tiny part of you felt relief when you finally made it back to your car and buckled your seatbelt. Maybe it’s because for the first time in a year you knew where your relationship stood with Jack nonexistent.

[candycandy00]

Tentacle Tomura - A Shigaraki x Reader Fic

So here’s the tentacle fic. I’m not sure it needs much of a summary. Reader is a hero who has an encounter with Tomura with a tentacle quirk.

Smut. 18+. Tentacles. Oral. Anal. Size kink. Lots of slimy stuff and various fluids. This is a nasty fic!

You couldn’t believe your luck when you stumbled upon the underground facility beneath a hospital. Your quirk makes searching for advanced technology easy, and it has led you to an entire lab. There are great glass tubes with dangerous looking Nomus in them, staring at you with their creepy eyes. Are they awake? Can they actually see you? You certainly hope not. You’re a lone hero exploring your discovery. Combat is not your specialty, so your plan is to take a look around this obvious villain facility and then report your findings back to the other heroes. 

Just as you’re about to leave, you notice a door in the back. For some reason, the sight of that door fills you with a sense of dread, as if something terrible is waiting on the other side. But your quirk is telling you that more technology is beyond it, perhaps even more advanced than the stuff you’ve already seen. So you take a deep breath and open the door. 

Inside is just one large glass tube filled with liquid, and the figure of a young man floating within. You approach the tube carefully and look closely at the man. Your eyes widen and you instinctively draw back away from him. It’s Shigaraki Tomura! The heroes have been searching frantically for him for weeks, and here he is. When he doesn’t move or even open his eyes, you step closer again. 

Shigaraki is surprisingly young, with pure white hair floating around his pretty face. He’s dressed in form fitting black clothing, his body much more toned than in the pictures you’ve seen. You realize with a bit of guilt that you find him attractive. What are you thinking? He’s a dangerous villain! 

Still, you find yourself pressing your whole body against the glass and staring up at him. It’s at this moment that his eyes snap open, two glowing red orbs fixing immediately on you. 

In a panic, you back away quickly, bumping into some sort of control panel in the process. You’re not sure what happened. Buttons were pushed. Beeping sounds were made. And the water begins to drain from Shigaraki’s tube. 

Your first instinct is to flee, to run back out the way you came and call for help. But for some reason, your legs just won’t move. You collapse onto the floor as your legs give out beneath you, and you can only watch in horror as the glass opens up with a mechanical thud and Shigaraki steps out. 

He runs a hand through his hair, water dripping all over him. “Looks like you interrupted my nap,” he says in a dry, bored voice. “I’ll have to get the doc back down here to start it up again. In the meantime…”

He looks straight at you. 

You make a sound that comes out like a squeak and scoot back until you hit the wall. He’s going to kill you. There’s no doubt about that. He’s going to use that terrifying quirk of his to destroy you. 

“I’m guessing you’re a hero,” he says, squatting down in front of you, close enough that he could reach out and touch you. 

Too afraid to speak, you give a shaky nod. 

He stares at you, his eyes focusing on your face for a while before moving down, grazing over your whole body. Is he… checking you out? And if he is, would that be a good or bad thing? 

He stands up then, still watching you. “Who have you told about this place?”

“N-no one!” You blurt it out without thinking. Should you have led him to think others knew, and might be on their way to rescue you? Or was it better to try to avoid angering him? 

He won’t stop staring at you, and you realize, again with some guilt, that he has beautiful eyes. What is wrong with you? This man is going to kill you in seconds and all you can think about is how hot he is. 

But instead of attacking, he says something truly bizarre: “You look like a chick from my favorite hentai.”

What? Hentai? Like anime porn? What is he talking about?

His eyes finally shift away from you as he looks up at the ceiling, seemingly in deep thought. “Master gave me a lot of quirks. Let’s see if the one I’m thinking about already got transferred.”

He closes his eyes, concentration evident in his face. Then, so suddenly that you scream in shock, a mass of wriggling red tentacles burst from his back. They vary in size, from relatively thin to extremely thick and bulbous. They’re fleshy and shiny, some of them dripping some sort of clear fluid. 

Before you can even react to this horror show, four tentacles shoot toward you, surprising you with their length. They coil around your arms and legs, lifting you into the air. And this is when his previous comment starts to make sense. 

You’ve seen hentai before, mostly with friends making fun of it. So you’re definitely aware of one of the most popular types: tentacle hentai, where women get violated by dozens of gross looking tentacles, usually from some alien or monster. Though you’d laughed at the absurdity along with your friends, you’d always found the tentacles disturbing. You couldn’t help imagining that happening to you, how frightening it would be, how humiliating it would be to have your body forced into those lewd positions. 

Now, as the tentacles sprouting from Shigaraki’s back wrap around your limbs and hold you aloft in front of him, you realize exactly what kind of hentai had been his favorite, and your whole body trembles. 

“Whoa, I can feel everything they touch,” he says, looking excited. “They’re like extra limbs.”

You can’t help noticing two more tentacles that have been creeping up your bare thighs, toward your skirt. You squirm in the slimy grip, trying and failing to free yourself. “Please,” you say to him, “just let me go!”

He grins, baring his teeth. “What fun would that be?”

The two extra tentacles slide under your skirt and move up to place themselves between your skin and the waistband. Then they rip the skirt completely off you, causing you to shriek and jerk against your bonds. More tentacles shoot toward you and then slither under your remaining clothes, under your shirt, under your bra, even under your panties. You whimper and struggle, but it’s no use. You’re completely helpless. 

All at once, the tentacles under your clothes pull outward, bursting through the fabric, leaving it all in shreds. Your shirt is reduced to ripped sleeves hanging uselessly from your arms, your bra nothing more than two thin straps connected to nothing. But worst of all, your panties were completely demolished, as if they’d never been there to begin with. 

Almost at the same time, the tentacles holding you shift your body so that it’s like you’re sitting on air, your knees pushed up toward your shoulders and your thighs spread so far apart that you’re afraid you’ll be ripped in two. Your arms are pulled back painfully tight behind you, causing your full, naked breasts to jut out in front of you. 

Shigaraki’s eyes roam over you, taking in the obscene view. Heat floods your face as you’re overcome with embarrassment. You avoid looking him in the face, so your eyes wander downward, where you can clearly see an enormous bulge in his tight black pants. 

Is he that turned on by seeing you naked? And why the hell do you feel flattered by that? Even worse, you can’t stop yourself from imagining what that bulge would look like unclothed. With alarm, you realize you’re getting wet. 

More tentacles move across your body, two thin ones wrapping around your breasts, squeezing them. From the ends of each of these, tiny tentacles sprout and coil around your nipples. The tiny tentacles are covered in little barbs that prick at the delicate nubs, though they’re not sharp enough to break the skin. The sensation makes you gasp, but it’s not unpleasant. 

Then a single rope-like tentacle emerges from Shigaraki’s back and rubs across your pussy, pushing the folds apart as it finds your clit and clamps down over it. You jerk wildly, crying out, as you feel the end of the tentacle tightening around your most sensitive spot, and from somewhere inside the tentacle, you feel another tiny extension that feels like a narrow, wet tongue lapping at your pinched clit. The stimulation is too much. You can feel your arousal dripping out of you, can almost hear it hitting the floor. 

And all the while, Shigaraki is inches away, watching you buck and fight, your body contorting into ever more embarrassingly lewd poses. Even you can’t tell whether you’re moaning or sobbing as the tentacle between your legs relentlessly attacks your clit. 

“You really do look like her,” Shigaraki says, his eyes full of lust. “You’re even dripping wet like she was. Do tentacles feel that good?”

You realize he’s talking about hentai again. You also notice another tentacle heading toward your crotch. This one is much thicker, with a bulbous head on the end. It doesn’t take you long to figure out where it’s going. 

You’re still a virgin, and it’s something you’ve wanted to change about yourself for a while now. Most of your friends got their cherries popped in high school, or very soon after, and they teased you incessantly about the fact that you still hadn’t experienced that, even two years after graduating. You wanted to get laid, you really did, but you hadn’t found anyone you were attracted to enough to sleep with. 

Even so, the thought of your first time being with a tentacle just made you feel like crying, so you yell out, “Wait, please wait!”

The tentacle heading toward you slows but doesn’t stop. Shigaraki looks at you curiously. 

In desperation, you cry, “I don’t want to lose my virginity to a tentacle!”

That’s when the tentacle freezes in place, just inches from your spread open pussy. Shigaraki’s eyes seem to light up as he says, “Seriously? You’re a virgin?”

Blushing furiously, you nod. 

A grin spreads across his pretty face, red eyes shining. “So you’re fine with losing your virginity as long as it’s not to a tentacle?”

Your mouth falls open in shock. That’s not really what you meant, but now that he said it, the thought of him fucking you invades your brain. Your eyes shift to that bulge again, and this time Shigaraki notices. 

He uses a hand that’s missing a few fingers to palm himself through his pants and asks, “Is this what you want?”

You look away. Yes, it’s exactly what you want but you’re too ashamed to say it out loud. The tentacles working on your body are making it hard to think straight, and you can now see a large puddle of fluid on the floor beneath you. 

The tentacle that’s latched onto your clit tightens again, the tongue-like extension inside making rapid, feathery motions. It’s too much. You can’t hold back anymore, and you cry out in ecstasy as an intense orgasm wracks your body. It’s so powerful that tears leak from your eyes and your body convulses in midair. 

When you finally regain your senses, you notice Shigaraki pulling his pants down enough to free his cock, and you nearly gasp. You’ve never seen one in person before, but you’re pretty certain it’s not supposed to be that big. Shigaraki himself is looking down at it with a surprised expression. 

“I guess the quirk affects my body in a lot of ways,” he says, clearly amused. 

The tentacles pull you closer to him, then suddenly twist you around until you’re hanging upside down. From this angle, with your legs still held far apart, Shigaraki has a clear view of everything you have. And your face is mere inches from his cock. You stare at it, watching it throb with arousal. Without thinking, you stretch toward it and give it a tentative lick, drawing your tongue gently along his length. 

You can’t see his face from your position, but you hear him laugh and say, “Horny little hero.” Then the tentacles press your face closer until it’s smooshed against his massive cock. You open your mouth, almost by reflex, and the tip of it shoves in. At only halfway in, the cock is hitting the back of your throat and causing you to gag. But somehow, you’re not repulsed. Even when he begins thrusting into your mouth, cutting off your air each time, you find yourself getting more and more turned on. What a time to discover you’re a masochist. 

This goes on for several minutes, until your throat feels raw and your jaw is sore. Then he pulls out until just the tip of his cock is still inside, and fills your mouth with hot sticky cum. 

You gulp it down as fast as you can, not wanting to spill any and also wanting to be able to breathe normally again. Once you’ve swallowed all of it, he finally pulls out completely and the tentacles holding you twist around again until you’re upright, face to face with him. 

You’re exhausted, breathing heavily, your lips bruised red and trembling. His pale face has reddened slightly from the experience, but otherwise he’s not showing any signs of tiring. He has a look of hunger in his eyes, like he’s just gotten started. 

You feel something snaking up your leg again, and you look down to see the thick, bulbous tentacle from before inching toward your groin. You look frantically back at Shigaraki. “No, please!”

He laughs. “You still want to lose your virginity to this,” he asks, gesturing toward his huge cock. 

Oh God, there’s no way that thing is going to fit inside you. But you still want it. You need it. So you cry out, “Yes!”

He watches you for a moment, seemingly enjoying the show you’re putting on, with tears on your face, tentacles still teasing your tits and clit, your lips quivering. “Maybe I’ll give it to you,” he says in a mocking tone, “if you’re a good girl.”

Before you can ask what he means, you feel the thick tentacle move rapidly up your leg. You draw in a sharp breath and squeeze your eyes shut, preparing to have your first time stolen by this crawling menace, but instead of entering your pussy, the slimy tentacle wiggles its way into your ass. 

Your eyes open widely in shock and confusion. Why is your ass suddenly full? The sensation is bizarre. It hurts, your asshole stretching to accommodate something so thick. The slime and various other fluids only did so much to ease the pain. But you’ve quickly learned that you enjoy a certain level of pain, so you try to relax your muscles and let the tentacle slide in and out. 

“Tentacles are fine for this hole, right?”

You look at Shigaraki again when you hear his voice. You can’t believe all this is happening right in front of him. The embarrassment alone is enough to make you cry as your ass is railed by the long, gooey appendage. Your crying turns to moaning, and you hear his voice again. 

“You really like this, huh? You’re gushing.”

You glance down to see yourself squirting. The sight is enough to make you cum again, but the tentacles never stop, not the one in your ass, not the ones on your tits and clit. You’re sure you’re going to pass out, but the tentacles holding you pull you forward, so close to Shigaraki that your tender nipples brush against the fabric of his shirt. He looks down at you with a sadistic grin and says, “Tell me what you want.”

You look up with teary eyes and say, “I want you to fuck me… please…”

His grin widens. “Be more specific.”

You’re barely coherent at this point, your mind only able to focus on the pleasure and pain that have completely taken over your senses. But you manage to get the words out. “I want you… to fuck my virgin pussy… with your giant cock…”

He laughs then, using the tentacles to pull you away from him. You can’t help whining when you can no longer feel his body heat against you. You can see his cock, rock hard again and twitching. He wants to fuck you. That’s obvious. So why won’t he? Is he trying to torment you? 

Suddenly another thick, phallic tentacle appears out of nowhere and shoves itself into your open mouth, slithering halfway down your throat. The tip of it is leaking fluid, and you realize that fluid tastes exactly like Shigaraki’s cum. The tentacle moves in and out, fucking your mouth. 

A few feet away, Shigaraki is watching intently. His eyes are full of desire as he says, “I’ve stuffed all your holes except the one you want me to stuff, huh? Poor little hero.”

Meanwhile, the two large tentacles are thrusting into your ass and mouth mercilessly. You lose track of time. You don’t know how long this goes on until, at the same moment, both tentacles ejaculate inside you. The fluid keeps spurting into your holes, sliding down your throat, oozing into your ass. And all you can think is, “I’m full to the brim with cum and I’m still a virgin.”

The tentacles, all except for the ones holding you in place, withdraw. Your body is left bruised, raw, sore, dripping both your own cum and Shigaraki’s. You don’t know how you’re still conscious. 

You’re pulled back to Shigaraki again, so tantalizingly close. You wish he would kiss you, or touch you with his own hands, no matter how dangerous that would be. Or better yet, just fuck you already. He looks at you with a strangely serious expression. The tentacles pull your legs apart and draw your knees up, then pull you even closer. You feel the hot tip of Shigaraki’s cock pressing against your entrance, and your whole body tenses up. You can’t imagine what your face looks like right now, but you’re probably wearing a slutty, blissful smile as the tentacles pull you slowly down. 

It’s too big. But you knew that already. The huge cock shoves into you, stretching and ripping your hole. You feel something warm, and realize it must be blood, the proof that you’ve finally lost your virginity. You wince and hiss, involuntarily jerking against the tentacles that are pulling you down. You want this, no matter how bad it hurts. You look Shigaraki in the eyes, and he leans forward, sticking his tongue into your mouth. It’s not the romantic kiss you’d hoped for, but tasting his saliva as it passes to your mouth somehow makes you even wetter. 

Finally, the tentacles stop. You can feel that you’re absolutely stuffed with his cock. Your pussy is throbbing, pulsing. Shigaraki puts his mouth close to your ear and says, “If I push it any further in, it might kill you.”

You nod, understanding. You’re already plenty satisfied with what’s inside you. In fact it’s already too much. 

With the tentacles holding you firmly in place, Shigaraki begins thrusting in and out of you. It hurts at first, stretching you to your limit, but gradually your body accommodates him, and all you feel is full and warm. You maintain eye contact with him, not wanting to miss even the tiniest change in his expression. Does this feel as good for him as it does for you? 

His breaths are more shallow, his hair messy across his forehead and shoulders. Fuck, he’s beautiful. You wish you could stay full of him forever. 

With the other tentacles gone, all your focus is on the cock shoving into you. All your thoughts revolve around it. It’s like your life is nothing without it. You clench around him, and he finally groans, moving his mangled hand up to touch your face. Then he finally kisses you, passionately and sweetly, the way you wanted to be kissed. 

When you feel Shigaraki’s cum shoot deep inside of you, hot and plentiful, it pushes you over the edge again, and you cum for the third time. 

As you shudder and pant, he pulls out of you. Your body goes limp, your head falling back, exhaustion overcoming you. But then you look at Shigaraki’s face again, and you see that he’s grinning. He says, “Now that you’re not a virgin anymore, the tentacles can have their fun.”

You use your remaining strength to hold your head back up and ask in a weak voice, “What?”

As if to answer you, dozens of tentacles shoot out from his back, all of them coming straight for you. Then all at once they’re squeezing your breasts, teasing your nipples, clamping onto your clit, wiggling into your mouth, ass, and pussy, filling every hole you have while Shigaraki watches. 

It feels like an eternity before you finally black out, only after cumming twice more and feeling the three large tentacles ejaculating in all your holes several more times. 

When you wake up, you’re in a hospital bed. You’re sore all over but otherwise unharmed. A creepy looking doctor walks in shortly after and lowers his voice as he tells you, “Shigaraki said to let you go. If you tell anyone about what you found down there, you’ll never have that experience again.”

You look at him in shock. So this doctor is a cohort of Shigaraki’s. Your first thought is to get out of the hospital and report what you found to the heroes. But… could you really tell them what happened? No, you couldn’t possibly do that. 

So you leave the hospital, and you keep your mouth shut about what you saw, and what you did. Hopefully, Shigaraki would wake up again soon. You were already excited about your next encounter.

[heartbreak-hotel-35]

Give Me A Chance

Elvis Presley x Fem!Reader

No one would ever believe the high and mighty King of Rock and Roll could be so clingy. But I’ve seen it first hand. He just can’t seem to leave me alone. If this damn job didn’t pay so well I might just leave it. But I must say, having him on an invisible leash made me feel some sort of way. Some sort of way indeed… Do I truly hate him? Or am I just afraid I’m not as special as he secretly makes me feel.

Warnings: lil bit of cursing, pretty suggestive actions in this one… but no smut!

70s Elvis / International Hotel Elvis

• •—•• •••— •• •••

There was Vernon. Followed by Ronnie, James, and Glen. The Jordanaires. The Sweet Inspirations. The Colonel. Diskin. Lastly, there was Red with Elvis Presley walking right on his heels, like there was something to fear in the lobby. I rolled my eyes before turning my attention back to the computer, hoping silently that he had not seen me looking at him. Lest it inflate his already enormous ego. Just as I was about to stand and hide in the back office, a voice traveled effortlessly over the counter.

“See the show tonight, Honey?” It said. Honey. The nickname made my skin crawl. I kept my eyes firmly on the screen in front of me.

“No, Mr. Presley. I’ve been here for the last eight hours.” I replied plainly.

“EP, the girls are comin’ man. We gotta get you outta here.” Red said urgently. I saw Elvis wave him off in my peripheral vision.

“When you gonna come to one?” He asked, clasping his hands together and resting his elbows just inches away from me. At this point, I was growing extremely agitated with his presence. I turned my attention to him, trying to look past how sweaty and disheveled he looked.

“Unfortunately, Mr. Presley, your shows bring in so much business, that I will forever be stuck at my desk for every show you put on.” I told him. That sickening smirk appeared on his face at my words. He tapped his ringed fingers on the counter almost impatiently.

“Just say the word, Baby. I can get you into a show whenever you’d like.” He said, resting his chin in his hand.

“Bold of you to assume I want to attend one of your shows, Mr. Presley.” I said, my words dripping with venom. Elvis stuck his tongue out, glazed his bottom lip with saliva and nodded his head slowly. I bit the inside of my cheek, worried I may have sounded a little too rude. Before he could retaliate, the sound of hundreds of women’s screams poured in through the sliding glass doors. Red grabbed Elvis’ arm and pulled him away, taking my breath along with him.

I looked over to see our three security guards on duty holding the women back, telling them that if they came any closer there would be consequences. I sat back in my chair, rubbing my temples and brushing away the thought of him. Looking at the clock, I groaned in realization that I had another hour and a half before shift change. That meant more complaints, problems to be fixed, and endless questions of “where’s Elvis?”.

“You’re going to have to get used to him you know.” Lillian, my co-worker said. I shot her a dirty look.

“Easy for you to say. If the man sneezes you’d be there with a damn tissue.” I prodded. She scoffed and gave me a gentle smile.

“Did he call again last night?” She asked, grabbing a stack of papers and flipping through them.

“Yes. Of course.” I replied. “Only to say, ‘what’re you wearing, pretty girl?’.” I mocked his voice, adding a huff of disgust at the end. “Which is stupid, cause he knew I was sitting right here.” Lillian looked over at me with wide eyes.

“What’d you say?” She asked, sounding almost excited.

“I hung up, Lillian.” I stated harshly. “That’s incredibly inappropriate and unprofessional.” I hoped silently my cheeks had not grown red at the memory.

“Did he call back?” She was fully facing me now.

“No, surprisingly.” I told her. Lillian stared at me, mouth hung open in silent awe.

“Well, you’re way stronger than I would be in that scenario.” She admitted, hiding her face behind a paper she’d be gripping. I rolled my eyes and faced the computer again, reopening tonight’s guest list. My head was throbbing, my shoulders were heavy, and my chest felt tight with frustration and another feeling I couldn’t quite put my finger on. An hour and ten minutes left. The minutes seemed to be running like hours and it was making me nauseous. Then the phone rang. I picked it up without a second thought.

“International Hotel, Vegas.” I stated.

“Hello! Is Elvis Presley staying at your hotel tonight?” The woman asked. I bit my tongue so hard it nearly bled.

“Yes ma’am. He does have a residency here. But I’m not allowed to give any personal information.” I replied. I felt like a robot; programmed to repeat the same thing over and over.

“But he is there?” She pried. I stayed silent. “Hello?” More silence. Then she hung up. An hour and seven minutes.

—tiny time skip—

My eyes had grown dry with the amount of time I’d stared directly at the clock. Lillian had gone nearly an hour ago, leaving me to answer the phone and check guests in on my own. Elvis’ band had come down for dinner about thirty minutes ago, their laughs and chatter echoing from down the hall. But there had been no sign of Elvis. Five minutes left. I felt my body relax with every tick of time. The phone rang once more.

“Last one.” I told myself. I picked it up and spoke slow.

“International Hotel, Vegas.”

“Hey Doll.” The voice said. I nearly choked on air. I didn’t say a word for what felt like several minutes. Once I collected my thoughts, I spoke.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Presley?” I asked, remaining as professional as my sanity would allow.

“Elvis.” He said. “Please, call me Elvis. Just once, would ya, Honey?” He pleaded. Pathetic. I shut my eyes, hoping it was just a bad dream.

“What can I do for you, Elvis?” I asked again, adding emphasis on his name. He hummed in approval.

“Jus’ wanted to hear your voice.” He said. This had to be a joke. Yet, something in his voice led me to believe he was dead serious.

“Mr. Presley, this is very unprofessional of you. If you need something, please call room service because I’m,”

“Done for the night?” He finished my sentence. I swallowed my words and grit my teeth. “Why d’you think I waited to call?”

“Enlighten me.” I bit. There was a pause. I smiled to myself. He couldn’t. There was no reason.

“Let me buy you a drink.” He finally said. I shook my head.

“No thank you.” I replied with forced politeness.

“Please? I jus’ wanna talk.” He continued.

“Mr. Presley, I have no interest in talking to you. You have a hundred groupies in the lobby just hoping you come down looking for a damn towel. I’m happy to send one of them up. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m no longer on shift and I would like to go to bed. Have a good night.” Then that was it. I put the phone on the receiver, stood up, and walked to the office to clock out.

My skin was was hot. I could feel my heartbeat in my throat. My sight began to blur with frustration. It would be a miracle if I still have a job here tomorrow morning. I pulled the bobby pins from my hair, releasing the half up style I had worn all day. I walked down the hall, keeping my head on a swivel in fear of Elvis appearing out of nowhere. I made it to the staff only stairs, walking down to the employee quarters and unlocking my door.

Once I triple checked the lock, I pressed my forehead to the door, sucking in a breath of relief. I survived another day. I knew I was being dramatic, but I just don’t understand why he seems to be… obsessed with me. Running my fingers through my hair, I walked to my bed and reached for the remote, turning the tv on and letting it run whatever happened to be on.

Just as I began to undress from the days work clothes, there was a knock at my door. My stomach sank.

“Please, God.” I pleaded, crossing my fingers behind my back. I stood on my toes, looking out the peephole only to see a post-boy standing in silence. I unlocked the door and opened it, greeting him quietly.

“You’re out awful late.” I told him. He tipped his hat and handed me a dark purple envelope.

“I know, but he said this was urgent.” The boy said. My eyes widened.

“Who said?” I asked, a little too aggressively. Then it was the boy’s eyes that widened this time.

“Uh, he said not to tell you.” He replied, picking nervously at his finger nails. I mustered up a smile and held the envelope to my chest.

“That’s all I needed to know.” I said, the sarcasm practically drowning out the kindness in my voice.

“Good night, ma’am.” He tipped his hat again, and vanished into the darkened staircase. I shut the door, triple checking the lock again, then pushed my back to it, forcing myself not to scream.

“This is ridiculous. How did he know where to send this?” I asked my empty room. I tossed the envelope in the small trash can by the desk, and began to undress, just ready to be pajama clad and in bed. I was shaking my head the whole time, muttering nonsense to no one. “How?” A pause. “Why?” Silence. I threw myself onto the bed, shut my eyes, and tried to force myself to sleep. But it never came.

An hour went by. Two hours. Another hour. I slammed my hands on the bed, looking over at the red digits on the clock. It was like they were staring at me. Taunting me and my inability to push Elvis Aaron Presley from my mind. I ripped the covers from my body and stormed over to the trash can, grabbing the letter the post-boy had given me only a few hours ago. My hands were trembling as I reached for the bedside lamp, switching it on to read whatever he had written.

Then I froze. Gazing down at the unopened envelope.

“What am I doing?” I asked myself. “Why am I letting this bother me so much?” A question I had not spoken out loud until that very moment, sitting on my bed, fancy envelope from Elvis Presley in hand. Next thing I knew, it was opened, cream colored paper in my right hand while the envelope was set aside. I stared at the cursive words at the top, chewing my lip nervously.

from the desk of Elvis Aaron Presley

Those words sparked something in me. The man that every woman in the world wanted a piece of, took time to write me a letter. Using his very own stationary, from his very own desk. I don’t quite know what I was expecting to be written. But what was written was not at all what I was expecting.

Please come up and see me,

I need to tell you something.

Yours,

EP

Yours. That made my heart melt. How was it that I could hold such a grudge against him, just for existing. But because he signs a silly note with ‘yours’, I suddenly can’t resist? I shook my head, hoping that the curiosity would fly right out. But after about five more contemplative minutes, I folded. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to hear what he had to say, and be done with this whole mess. I rid my body of my pajamas, settling for a light blue lounge gown that sat at about mid thigh length.

“What am I doing?” I muttered, giving my appearance a once over in the mirror before grabbing my room key and going out the door. “What the hell am I doing?” I was now standing just outside the staff elevator, the sound of its descent making my heart thump faster. I stepped on, pushing the ‘private floor’ button, followed by scanning my key. It felt as though it wasn’t even moving. My knees were growing weak. I tried to retain my firm opinion of ‘not liking him’. But with every beep of the elevator’s climb, a little piece of me wanted him more.

“Stop it.” I demanded. “You don’t like him. You want no part of this.” It became my mantra for the rest of the ride up. The doors pulled open, revealing the navy blue and red walls of the private floor hallway. I stepped out, looking right and left, like it was a dangerous street crossing. Fiddling nervously with the charm on my necklace, I walked toward the door I knew belonged to him. Then there I was. Stood directly in front of it, staring as though it was a portal to another dimension. Part of me wanted to run. Run right back to the elevator and forget I even attempted to speak to him.

Then there was the other part. That little voice telling me I must be something special. The voice I’d been shushing for the last six months of his residency. The part of me that desired him. That enjoyed having him on this invisible leash. Like he was something I could play with. I chewed my cheek, drawing a coppery taste to my tongue that startled me. I raised my hand to knock, but just as my knuckles brushed the wood, the door flew open and there he was. He stood before me shirtless, damp and messy hair, with pajama pants sitting dangerously low on those rebellious hips. Elvis Presley. King of Rock and Roll. The man I loved to hate and hated to love.

“I knew you’d come.” He said lowly, pressing his palms on either side of the door frame. My mouth went dry.

“And how, might I ask, did you know?” I asked him, fighting to keep my voice steady. He smirked and looked down at his feet.

“I was bold enough to assume.” His eyes scanned my body from the floor up, locking onto mine and giving me a knowing wink. My mouth opened with the intention of words leaving it. But nothing came. He took a cautious step forward, his eyes never once leaving mine.

“Elvis,” I squeaked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“There it is.” He said, taking another step toward me. “Say it again.” My eyes began to water at the closeness he was creating.

“Elvis.” I said again, still unable to raise my voice. He smiled, his arms by his sides now.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Again.” He demanded, his tone remaining gentle. My hands were clasped together against my chest, my breathing growing rapid.

“E-Elvis.” I repeated. His head lolled to the side, his gaze still fixed firmly on mine. Then he bent down, placing his palms on his knees, like you would stand when scolding a child.

“Ain’t no other name needs to come out of that pretty mouth tonight. Alright?” He said softly, bringing his right hand up to brush my lips with his thumb. What was happening? Not even twenty-four hours ago I hated the man in front of me. But now all rational thought was clouded with him. I was overwhelmed by him. All I could do was nod in response. I found myself gravitating toward him. Reaching for him. Aching for him. Something dark flashed across his eyes and suddenly he scooped me up from the backs of my knees, holding me against his bare chest. I gasped, pressing my hands flush against his shoulders and looking down at him.

“What on earth are you,”

“Hush.” He spit, tightening his grip on the back of my thighs. My head was screaming at me to fight and get out. But my heart and the pooling heat in my stomach was crying for me to stay put. He closed the door with his foot and then pushed my back up against it, dropping me lower in his arms.

“Elvis.” I said, regaining his attention.

“Yea, Satnin?” He replied breathily, looking up at me with wild eyes. My senses were overloaded. The chill from his still damp hair. The warmth of his ribs against the insides of my thighs. The smell of his shampoo and aftershave. There was no hiding the blush rising on my skin.

“You… you said in your letter you had something to tell me.” I reminded. His eyes darted back and forth between my own, as if searching for the very thing he had been thinking of when he wrote to me. I trailed my hands along the expanse of his back, eventually tangling my hands in his hair. He rolled his eyes back just before closing them and shaking his head.

“Can’t think of it when I got you against me like this.” He answered with a slight chuckle. I couldn’t help but smile at the sound.

“Then put me down.” I suggested softly. But he only shook his head faster.

“Nuh uh.” He protested childishly.

“Do you do this to all of your one night stands?” I asked, growing slightly irritated. His eyes darkened at my words.

“You ain’t no one night stand, Baby.” He told me. “I want you here every night. I’ve always wanted you here. But you’ve been too stubborn to give me a chance.” His grip on me was tightening at every word. I had nothing else to say. The way he spoke. I believed him. His gaze fixed on mine once more. “Will you give me a chance, Honey? Please?” Elvis’ voice had grown quiet in an almost begging tone. His brows lifted and furrowed together in patient silence.

I stared down at him, taking a mental picture of the sight in front of me. Elvis Presley, holding me against him, pleading for a chance. I slid my hands down from his hair, dancing them teasingly along his back. Any thought that had any trace of hate toward him had vanished. Melted away in his surrounding body heat. Suddenly, I felt myself nodding.

“Y-yes, Elvis. I’ll give you a chance.” With those words, I had given away any control I had previously had over him. My vision cleared and I saw his eyes sparkle. Even in the engulfing darkness he seemed to glow.

“Bout time.” He said, his top lip curling in a sly smile. I felt his hand land on the back of my neck, his strength gently pushing my head down to be level with his. Then he kissed me. Just once, short and soft. “Mm.” He huffed, then pulled me in again. Another kiss, this one longer, still just as soft as the one before. I kissed back, bringing my hands up to interlace behind his head. Then he broke it again, staring up at me to gauge my reaction.

“Alright?” He asked, his breath ghosting my lips. I thought for a moment. Was it? What exactly was I feeling? I couldn’t figure it out. I was so enveloped in the many ways he was making me feel, that I couldn’t pick one I was feeling more than the other. I finally decided to just be with him and let him make me feel anyway he wanted to.

“Alright.” I said at last. I felt his body relax and then he quickly reattached his lips to mine, absolutely devouring them. It was a mess of tongue and teeth, his hands gripping the backs of my legs with a newfound strength. He began to walk away from the door, carrying me to I didn’t care where. As long as he was there with me. I was so focused on the way his lips felt on mine, I’d hardly noticed the silk sheets against my back. Only when Elvis pulled back did I note my surroundings.

“Look so pretty under me, Baby.” He whispered, pressing another quick kiss to the corner of my mouth. I ran my hands along the bed, letting the chill from the silk soak into my skin. He began to pepper my face a neck with loving little kisses before climbing further onto the bed, moving his knee to the inside of my thigh and pushing it forward, causing my legs to spread. I gasped softly at the movement, reaching up and placing my hands haphazardly on his back. I heard him chuckle, the vibrations against my neck causing a chill to run down my spine.

“You like that?” He asked, placing his left hand on top of my hip.

“Mhmm.” I answered faintly, brushing his hair from his beautiful blue eyes.

“What else you want me to do to ya, Satnin?” His voice was low and somehow even more seductive than before. I sat up just enough to press a kiss to his lips before answering.

“Anything.” I said simply. “Everything.” Elvis smirked and touched his nose to mine.

“Anything it is, Pretty Girl.”

[aceinacloset]

!FNAF SL REDUX!

Character Profile #5 Funtime Freddy

The well known and not so well skilled magician of the Funtime crew, known for his enthusiasm and seemingly endless energy. Another main character in FNAF SL REDUX and I'm pretty sure a fan favorite character in the Fandom… so let's hope his fans like REDUX Ft. Freddy. 😔🙏

Funtime Freddy's original development idea was mostly to be a mockery of Henry and his Freddy bear, it would only become more original when he added bon bon to give Funtime Freddy a magician “pull a rabbit out of hat” vibe.

William Afton, the gayest straight man ever (he says he isn’t gay but he can’t be straight either) making an animatronic because your jealous of your partner's talent and success is very fruity of you.

Anyway, Funtime Freddy was the third Funtime animatronic made and the second most difficult to make. Quite a bit of Funtime Freddy's killer coding and abilities went unfinished, lacking a proper grabber to snag said target kid, and a lot of his killer code is unfinished leading to him being prone to errors. Like he has the killer cavity™️, but no claw, it's just a gaping maw.

When it comes to Funtime Freddy and entertaining children, he'll usually do a lot of different forms of simple magic tricks for the kids to watch. pulling a bon bon out of his hat, scarf pulling out of his sleeve, you know simple tricks like that. He tended to be favored by the far more energetic and amazed kids. They enjoy his magic tricks and loud, energetic voice.

When the Funtimes were put into the underground facility, in storage. Funtime Freddy was put into Funtime Auditorium with Funtime Foxy, once staff started showing up and the controlled shocks started being used he would flee to the breaker room. Now an unintentional roommate to Ballora he would try to not annoy Ballora too much, she really didn’t mind Freddy being in the breaker room but he felt like he was intruding.

Of course, like Ballora, Funtime Freddy would also be experimented on by Afton using Elizabeth's remnant. This experiment would affect his left eye, permanently dilating to be smaller than his other eye, as well as his voice box now having a permanent stutter that no amount of optimization can fix. 

And like Ballora, he would also gain full sentience as well as other things…

When it comes to how Funtime Freddy acts, 9/10 he's left alone with his thoughts and only Bon Bon as company, that would lead to a lot of pondering and existentialism (that's what happens when you got a conscience and self awareness). As well as a lot of talking to himself and Bon Bon. Ballora was the best form of comfort Freddy would get for the whole duration of his time in the breaker room.

Funtime Freddy also had a tendency to hear things (It was mostly Liz, before he could see her) and that drove him a little stir crazy. This would also cause a lot of his killer code to take more of a hold over him (not fully don't worry). Which would lead to many hospitalizations because of him attacking staff, none ever died by Freddy's hands but they kinda wish they had.

Surprisingly this doesn't change his interactions with kids, still as energetic and lovable as before (Liz may have had a hand in making sure he doesn't hurt kids🤫)

Funtime Freddy did miss Foxy and would always be happy to perform with him when they were rented out together, despite all their fighting they do care about each other it's just complicated to outsiders looking in.

Moving on, Funtime Freddy was not informed fully about the plan just that they would become one, with that being said that means Funtime Freddy had no intention of keeping the technician alive.

Moving on to after the whole escape and CB being yeeted, since Ballora had fallen silent Funtime Freddy and Foxy took up the rains and the head of the amalgamation. It was far from an easy thing nor a cooperative one.

Funtime Freddy did find the world above very fascinating, but he didn't have time to explore it at first. His time being taken up by trying to find materials to rebuild their body and make it more functional. But once they had made the body functional enough to live in, he would begin to explore this world with wide starry eyes. 

He would explore many places, and libraries became a must for him. He would find books and stories the most interesting, mostly about history. Weird nesh stuff like ‘human torture methods and executions’ (neither Ballora nor Foxy were fans), he would also do a lot of breaking and entering into places. (They broke into a McDonald's and played around in the play place, very worth it for Freddy not so worth it for Foxy.)

They remained largely in the shadows, mostly due to Freddy's skittishness towards adults, and Ballora’s inherent wariness of people period. So their interactions with people were stagnant, only having a few chance encounters with them by accident.

Meaning the Funtimes would all be local cryptids…

By the time of Fnaf 6s events, Funtime Freddy would be the most sporadic and unpredictable of the 3 funtimes, being most prone to attack without warning. While Ballora had more disdain and hatred towards CB, Freddy was more content just avoiding her all together. Obviously that wouldn't last, but it was his intention.

When it came to the truce with CB and setting their sights on Afton, Freddy would become the most violent and aggressive, as well as the most unpredictable to Mike. Ballora was more calculated in her aggression, while Freddy was more of the just jump at ‘em.

Funtime Freddy does still have bon bon to wrangle him in sometimes, but it's not as effective as it was before. Ballora is the one that is more likely to fully wrangle Freddy in, so he doesn't do anything too reckless.

He wouldn't take Afton's attempt at escape nor the fire sitting down, attempting to break out of the death trap labyrinth he found himself in. Chasing after Afton and getting a couple hits in (you go you three) and fights tooth and nail to break out of the labyrinth, before giving up due to their barely held together body.

Of course just like CB and Ballora, the fire would not be the end of Funtime Freddy. Having his AI put into the Employee Virtual Training Program.

Fred, HW 2 Funtime Freddy

Had about the same reaction as Ballora, being back in the breaker room and thinking ‘is this hell?! Did I somehow go to hell?!’. But having Bon bon back made all his fears melt away. Discovering the others later made everything even better, they were together again. One big happy family. His violence towards staff didn’t change though, he still doesn’t like anyone that appears in the breaker-room. (some things never change)

Gonna quickly talk about Bon bon, not that there isn't a lot to talk about, it's just that Freddy and Bon Bon go hand in hand and there is only so much I can talk about with Bon Bon specifically.

Before Funtime Freddy was able to see Liz, Bon Bon was able to see her and ended up helping her investigate the facility. He would also sometimes search on her own time, in hopes of helping get themself and the others out.

The end…

Onto the AR skins…

(Note: this skin is specific to this Au and does not exist in Canon FNAF material)

Scarecrow Freddy (Scarecrow)

Intimidating on the outside, but a rather positive and jolly fellow once you get to know him. He was released during the Halloween event (all the other funtimes were released during the Dark Circus event in this au). Has many bugs crawling around and in his body, he's named all of them.

And that is the end of Funtime Freddy's character profile

Circus Baby Character profile

Ballora Character profile

Elizabeth Afton Character profile

Katherine Afton Schmidt profile

[fandomwritingbit]

Sweet Girl pt.5

dbf/William Afton x (fem) virgin/reader

pt.1 - here. pt.2 - here. pt.3 - here. pt.4 - here.

Synop: Bored of the lack of contact you and William decide to bring wanking to the 21st century.

Warnings: Smut, masturbation, obsessive behaviour/thoughts for the both of you, corruption, coercion. Virgin reader.

A/n: MATES, MATES, I FUCKING WROTE SOMMET. This is not a drill, I wrote something after weeks of nada and it's... well, it's mediocre. But it's something! This was not the part 5 I had planned but rather a dirty thought that ran away with me that I hope reads half decently.

Is this fuck proofread lmao, soz for any errors I'll try to fix them later on x

You wake very confused, squinting in the light from your bedroom window that was much too bright for 8 in the morning, so you lift yourself from your sheets to check your phone: 9:30. You’ve overslept. Siting up properly you glace at your side table clock through sleepy eyes, needing to confirm the reality of the time, you set an alarm, what the fuck? You have plans today that are now going to have to be pushed up. 

You’re up like a whirlwind, messaging the friend you’re supposed to be having breakfast with that it’s now going to have to be a lunch, a late lunch ideally. Surprisingly they’re not too put out, they must be running late themselves. Crisis averted, you head downstairs to get yourself some coffee which will hopefully combat the awful feeling of having screwed your whole day up already. To be fair, it’s about time something like this happened to you, life’s been too easy for too long. Well, baring the odd relationship with your father’s friend, of course. 

Not wanting to tackle the coffee machine, which you swear is as old as you, if not older, you go for coffee granules and the kettle. A simple man’s brew, and that’s certainly how you feel today. You hadn’t bothered with dressing or throwing a dressing gown on, it’s a warm enough morning that you can stand in the kitchen in your pyjama shorts and vest without shivering, the only cold you feel is your bare feet on the tile. 

Your kettle clicks and you set about making your cup, ignoring the squeak of the backdoor  opening, you’ll greet whichever parent it is when they greet you, if the interaction can be delayed it’s for the best. You pour your water, but the sudden and crisp sound of a wolf whistle makes you overspill onto the counter. Sliding your phone out the way of the spillage, you turn to see the sniggering face of William and your heart manages to soar and sink at the same time, something only this man is able to do. 

Your annoyed expression melts into a flush, you know exactly why he whistled and you cross your arms over your chest accordingly, hard up to do anything about the shorts position high up your thighs. 

“Sorry,” He says without any conviction, still grinning as the coffee begins to drip off the edge of the worktop. Adding slyly, “You wouldn’t mind making me one, would you?”

You neglect to answer, going for an embarrassed, “What are you doing here?” instead. The man’s been in your kitchen for less than a minute and you already feel like you shouldn’t be here, for your own protection. Last time springs to your mind, involuntarily quickening your heart rate. He’d caught you off guard then too, then used you up and wrung you out, and you loved every second of it. You hate him for that, and the way your pussy seems to know when he’s in the room, it’s not fair. 

“Clearing out the garage with you dad.” He presents his palms in his own defence, the smug look of him shows his pride at begging her legitimately. “He told me you were out.” It’s phrased like a question, again making you feel like a trespasser in your own home.

“I’m supposed to be.” You explain without detail, averting your gaze from his and instantly remembering the mess on the counter, and now the floor. 

“Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes. Especially in that.” He laughs meanly, making you frown. You look pretty all annoyed at him, the furrow of your brown not doing anything to hide the heat on your face from the invasive way his eyes drink you in. And as if that wasn’t far enough he steps forward, sliding his hand over the silky fabric coating your hip. “Almost as revealing as that pretty little bikini.” Your back hits the surface behind you, he has a knack for cornering you, but you suppose it’s not exactly herding cats if the prey doesn’t want to run away. 

The comment hits home though and you remember exactly how easy it was for him to move that garment aside and- 

You’re pulled from that thought as his hand slides further, over your hip to your arse. “Stop.” You say a little breathless, not liking how he just grins at the word. “...My dad could walk in.”

“That didn’t stop you last time.” His tone is mocking, riddled with amusement at how you can’t seem to refuse him. 

“That was stupid… You make me stupid.” You mutter, pushing his hand away and trying to ignore how affected you feel already. “You need to stop.” You affirm, holding your voice steady to prevent the whine that threatened to accompany it. 

William leans closer to you, a mean joy practically emanating from him when your breath hitches. He speaks lowly, a gleeful edge warming you for him and doing everything possible to add to that stupidity “Are you going to make me?”

You just look up at him, your chest rising quickly less than half an inch from his. “...Yes.” You finally manage, nerves and need in your core making you hesitant. Your eyes are wide in wait for response, and the man holds firm just long enough that you panic. He reaches behind you for something before obeying your word, you realise sharpish that he’s plucked your phone from the countertop. 

Trying to take it back fails when he catches your wrist and flicks you away. You’re whining like a child, unable to help the discomfort flooding your veins at him holding something so personal. “William, give it back. What are you-” Your words die when he simply holds the phone in front of you and you hear the subtle click of your face ID unlocking it. 

You watch angrily as he steps away with the device, internally fighting the urge to try and take it back by force. 

He glances at your outrage, stoking it with, “You must have some dirty secrets on here to protest so much.” Shaking his head, he makes you wait whilst he does whatever he nicked your phone to do. Chuckling as he has to manoeuvre the screen from your sight when you try to at least see what he’s doing. “Relax, sweetheart. I’m giving you my number… You don’t want to entertain me now, then you can later.” 

You find yourself nodding when he hands you the phone back. 

~

Your day is spent, lunch and coffee with your mate over and done with, dinner with your parents finished. So you slip away to bed with your phone clutched to your chest, which is tight with forbidden excitement. Halfway through the day your checking of messages was fruitful, with one from William telling you that you’re going to ‘entertain him’ at 11pm tonight, and despite your naivety you know exactly what that means. 

The only way to combat your nerves is preparation so you pick out a matching bra and knickers set, light pink and lacy, you know he’s going to like them, perhaps too much if anything. Then a white nightdress, just see-through enough to give a hint as to the underwear underneath. 

Then it’s propping your phone up with a pillow and sitting cross-legged on your bed, checking to see it the view will be good, and it certainly will. From there, all you do is wait, your foot absentmindedly tapping away with the excess excitement, you’re aroused at the thought of it. A dirty video call with a bloke older than your dad, it’s everything you’re not supposed to do, a bad idea all around, but that just makes your panties that bit wetter. 

He’s a little late, but the very moment he calls you answer, not even waiting for a ring. It makes him smirk, such a sweet thing, ready for him, no doubt waiting for him. Fuck, if he was twenty years younger he’d scale the window and see it in person. 

You know you’ve given your want away by his sly expression, and he teases you by saying, “Eager, huh?” 

You pout, now hating all the effort you went to and trying to explain it away. “Well, I was expecting-I knew you were going to-” 

Somehow, even through your tiny phone screen he has enough presence to be able to cut you off. “It’s a good thing.” He pauses before adding with a snicker, “I doubt you’re as eager as me.” He shifts as he says that and your heart skips a beat at the thought of him touching himself already. It’s a power only he has ever given you, to know just how mental you make him and that power makes your core tighten. 

“Now, sweet thing.” There’s a nonchalance to his words that contradict the fact he’s palming himself over his boxers, he can’t help it, he can see the strap of your bra peeking out and the curve of your hips suggested by your nightie. It doesn’t pass him by that he’s fucking pathetic. “Have you got headphones, or do I have to keep my voice down?” 

You hadn’t thought of that, but you’re glad he did when you think how often you hear your parents tv through the wall. So you reach to your bedside drawer to retrieve your headphones, well aware that he’s watching you and trying to catch sight of whatever he can. And after a moment you plug them in and pop them in your ears, flushing when you realise that the sound feels a lot more intimate now. Maybe he knew that. 

“God you drive me crazy with all the tiny fucking clothes you wear.” He’s laughing but you know he’s not joking. You’re not in a position to laugh, how exactly can you tell him that he drives you crazy with everything he fucking does. From the tensing of his jaw to the delirious sensation of his voice on your skin. All of it has your body begging for anything he’s willing to give you, regardless of what your mind thinks. 

You can’t prevent a small smile on your lips though, “I don’t do it on purpose.” Even as you say it you know it’s a lie, you didn’t do it on purpose at first, now though, you want him to see you. 

“Don’t fucking lie to me, sweetheart.” He knows you better than that. You giggle, it should be illegal for him to read your mind that easily. “I’d wager under that nightie you’re wearing something nice for me. Like a gift to be unwrapped.” The look on your face says it all, when you bite your lip like that he wants to bite it for you. “Am I right?” 

You can hardly look at your screen, but you nod, barely able to sit still. 

“Fuck, let me see.” Something about how he’s speaking now is very telling and you revel in the feeling for a moment before shifting to sit on your feet. 

“Okay.” You sound so small and quiet you can hardly hear it over that arousal in your blood. Your fingers hook under the bottom of your nightdress, hesitant to begin the process and your eyes flick to the screen. 

You catch his gaze and he smirks, “Come on, you know I’d do it for you if I could.” That you are certain of, sometimes there’s such hunger in his eyes you think he’s a breath away from ripping the fabric off you. 

You do as asked, your panties straps revealed high on your hips guiding the sight up your stomach,then to the thin lace hardly covering your breasts. You were right, he does like it. Much too much. 

“God, you are like a fucking present.” You grin at that, watching the hint of movement you can see towards the bottom of the screen, and you core pangs with the knowledge of what he’s doing. Now sitting on your feet, you press your heel between your legs and jump at the jolt of stimulation it brings. 

Your lip is between your teeth again as you debate whether you’re brave enough to ask for what you want. “...Show me.” You manage in a surge of voice, you wish you didn’t sound as shy as you do. 

You hear William’s scoff of disbelief, he hadn’t expected you to ask that but he supposes it’s only fair. “Yeah?” 

You nod, watching eagerly as he moves a hand to change the angle of your view. The sight stirs you immensely, his boxers pulled down enough to let his cock free, he held it, touching himself at a slow pace. You rake the image for what you can see, his shirt pulled up to let you see the trail of dark hair that leads down to his length. A crazy part of you burns to press your nose against his trail, curiosity, or something dirtier you don’t know, but you know he’d let you if you asked. 

It’s with near fascination you watch his stroke himself, not noticing how you’ve begun grinding your pussy against your heel, your knickers are clinging to your slick but all shame is lost. 

“I didn’t expect you to want to see.” He sniggers, you recognise the thickness of his voice, remembering the pride in your core when you took him in your mouth, the heavy breathing of someone clinging on to their self restraint by the tips of their fingers. There’s precum on his tip smeared by each rise of his fist, it’s a dirty feeling and if you were in his reach he’d have it resting pretty on your tongue. 

Soon your movement isn’t enough anymore, your heat whines for better friction, the attention on your clit that he does just right. It’s written in your posture and the pinch of frustration between your brows. 

William’s voice affirms your need. “You can touch yourself, lovely. Don’t have to wait to be told.” 

“I know.” You reply quickly, embarrassed at how easy he’d jumped to that conclusion. If you were harder to read maybe he wouldn't have such a hold on you. 

“Or do you want me to ask?” There it is again, that mocking that shouldn’t speak directly to your slick, it’s condescending but you know in your heart that he knows better. You open your mouth to protest the teasing but you have no chance to. “Come on, show me how you play late at night, how you give yourself what you need.” He wants to seem like he’s humouring you but right now, with his cock in his hand, he’d beg to see just how you touch your perfect cunt.   

You’re doing it, shifting your position so you’re sitting properly, legs raised to let you trace over your bundle of nerves. The fabric of your panties quickly proves irritating, so you hurry to take them off, glancing repeatedly at the view on screen, dying to match the rhythm of him stroking himself, not wanting to miss anything. At the sight of your pussy bare for him, knickers discarded, he hisses through his teeth; now that is the kind of thing that gets a bloke in serious trouble.

“And the rest.” He adds, and you’re so lost in your new-found touch it takes you a moment to realise what he’s referring to, when you do you push the bra straps from your shoulders, shimmying the garment down so that your chest is free. Your nipples are hard from your excitement, all parts of you aware of the growing need in your core, begging for the release your touch promises. It should be familiar but with William’s eyes on you it takes you time to remember what you like. 

You rub your clit, the cues from your body calling for you to press your fingers inside your hole. You’re unable to reach like he does, but it’s enough to bring your end into sight and a soft moan from your lips. 

He’s chuckling watching how weak you become, like he’s not moving faster with the taste of release on his tongue. It takes a lot for him to ask the question burning in his head, he already knows the answer but hearing it from you is going to be delicious. “Tell me, what you think about, when you play with yourself, sweet thing.” The words are stilted with his involuntarily quickening pace, he’s close and it’s fucking stupid how much he needs to cum. 

“You.” You say instantly, voice cracking. Your head between my legs, fingers hooking inside, teeth on my neck as you line your cock up between my legs. You haven’t the coherent thought process to say that, it’s flicking images of past imaginings, you shouldn’t want to give yourself to this man as much as you do. 

William grunts, speaking through gritted teeth to try and remain somewhat controlled, though there’s nothing controlled about his frantic movement, nor yours. “You’re so fucking lucky I’m not in there with you.” 

It’s not a threat, you’ve seen the size of him, you’ve been delirious from just his fingers, but you want it. You want him in there with you. You want it all. 

He loses it at your wide eyed look, fucking his fist ‘til his cum is dripping down his abdomen.  You're not far yourself from the view alone, but you can hear his breathing, the groan right as he touches the peak. And your walls clamp around your fingers in stuttering waves of climax, you shiver with it, your legs unwillingly pressing together. You have to bite the inside of your cheeks to keep any noise leaving you, a startled thought of discovery hitting you out of nowhere. 

“Fucking hell.” His voice makes you regain your senses, he’s chuckling and the hand not coated in release slips out of shot to rub the bridge of his nose; why is it so much better when a pretty thing like you is watching? 

“William?” You’re shaky as you speak, weighing up what you want to ask, deciding that closed mouths don’t get fed. In response he tilts the camera up so you can see he’s listening, and you can’t help but hit screenshot at the sight of him so dishevelled. “Next time… I want you to be here with me.” 

He laughs, “Anything you want, princess. I mean it.”

pt. 6 - here

[sweetsirenscribbles]

Morning After

John Price x Reader

A/N: This is legit only my second fic ever. I don't have anyone to proofread, sorry for any mistakes.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Warnings: smut but not detailed, drinking, a teeny tiny bit of angst, fluff

When you woke up, you didn’t open your eyes. The sheets against your skin felt odd. Your mouth was sour, letting you know you had fallen asleep without brushing your teeth. Taking a deep breath in you stretched your limbs in the bed. You let out a satisfied groan before you realized you were completely naked. That made you stop mid-stretch and open your eyes. The room was dimly light by a floor lamp next to a chair in the corner. You didn’t recognize the lamp or the chair. As you sat up and took stock of the room you found yourself in the events of last night flood your brain. You had gone out to dinner with a friend for their birthday, but you ended up at a bar playing pool. The group had gotten nostalgic over your days as young adults with less responsibilities and better tolerance for alcohol. Which is how you ended up at the bar in the first place. You personally had only planned on staying out for a little while, but your friend had pulled the birthday card on you knowing you didn’t have any real plans the next day. While playing pool your group began chatting up the guys at the table next to yours and learned it was a group of military guys. There had been a guy who was so pretty you had initially thought he was a model. He had been introduced as Gaz. There had been a guy with a mohawk and Scottish accent who went by Soap and a man wearing a black face mask and a beanie who seemed impossibly large that Soap called Ghost. Ghost had been quiet the entire night only communicating in one word answers and grunts. Then there was John. When you had spotted him a zing had run up your spine. He had fixed his steady cerulean eyes on you when your friend had introduced you to his group. John had made a point to shake your hand during the introduction process which had caused heat to rush up your neck into you hairline. You remember hearing your friend snicker next to you while you stuttered out a greeting. The way John’s eyes crinkled around his eyes made your heart skip. You had vaguely thought the he was the only person you’d ever seen that had muttons chops that you found insanely attractive. During the course of the night you had chatted with him while you all played pool and drank. John had been surprisingly easy to talk to and you had soon found yourself chatting and exchanging flirty remarks with the man. You had planned on working up the courage to exchange numbers with him before you left. However, as you friends settled their tabs and ordered Ubers, John had asked you if you’d like to come back to his place. You’d had just enough to drink to be tipsy and agree before too much thought. You sent your friend a quick text and also starting sharing you location, because safety. Once you’d gotten to John’s house he’d pushed you against the inside of the front door and made you cum on his tongue twice before he carried you to his bedroom.

Just thinking about how things had gone down (pun intended) made your skin flush. You must have passed out at some point in the night. The man in question was not currently in the room. You get out of the bed and search for your clothes. Everything was folded neatly on the chair next to your lamp. Thankfully your phone was still in your pants pocket with 20% battery life and about ten messages from your friends asking how you tonight had gone. You dressed quickly and made your way out of the bedroom. Once you were out of the room you could smell coffee and hear movement in the kitchen. You walked down the hallway and found yourself standing in the living room. “You’re awake.” A voice called from your left. You turned to see John standing in his kitchen shirtless smiling at you softly. “Yeah, I figured I’d worn out my welcome.” You rushed, feeling only slightly embarrassed at being caught. “Oh sweetheart, you haven’t worn anything out. I think I might have worn you out last night though.” John remarked with a gleam in his eyes. Heat flushed your cheeks and ears as you opened and closed your mouth, at a loss for words. A dark chuckle rumbled through John’s chest as he made his way to where you stood. “Don’t be shy now love.” John caressed your cheek gently as he peered down into your eyes. The urge to close your eyes and lean into his hand was so strong, but you just stood and stared at him. Your heart thudded in your chest quickly. “Come on, I made us breakfast.” He dropped his hand from your face and turned back to the kitchen. 

You waffled between trying to make a break for the door and sitting down at the kitchen table. You watched John start to make two plates, before you finally walked into the kitchen with a small huff of resignation. You really liked John a lot. He seemed like a good guy, but he was career military and you were under the impression he wasn’t exactly looking for more than a fling. While you didn’t regret having sex with him, because truthfully it had been the best sex you’d ever had, you didn’t really want a situationship.

John pulled a cup out of a cabinet and turned to you. “How do you take your coffee?” He asked turning to the refrigerator. “John, this really isn’t necessary.” He turned back to you with a frown tugging at his eyebrows. “Do you prefer tea? Let me put the kettle on.” He said turning back away from you. “No. John. I mean all of this. You don’t have to feed me. I’d rather not draw this goodbye out longer than needed.” You blurted out. John took a step towards you. “What are you going on about?” He questioned with an unreadable expression. You took an uneasy step back. “T-this,” you stammered. “Who does this for a one night stand?” The edge of the table pressed into the back of your thighs. You realized then you’d been backing away from John and was now stuck between him and the kitchen table. “One night stand? Is that what you think this is?” John crossed his arms over his chest.Your eyes flickered down to take in the way his arms bulged across his hairy chest. When you meet his eyes they had a knowing gleam to them. “I mean I’d like to see you again, but I figured that with your job you wouldn’t want to.” You sputtered feeling like you were being scolded somehow. John grabbed your hand gently and brought it to his lips before softly kissing each of your knuckles. “I might have gone about things out of order, but I very much want take you out on a proper date and get to know you better. I know me being in the military isn’t ideal, but I want to try if you’re willing.” He declared staring into your eyes. His words surprised you and you couldn’t help the goofy grin that formed on your lips. “I’d like that very much actually.” You breathed out. “Good.” John mumbling staring at your lips as he leaned into your space. Your eyes fluttered shut when his lips pressed against yours delicately. John’s tongue ran along the seam of your lips. You pulled back. “John, I have really bad morning breath.” You tried to deter him. “I don’t care.” He growled before capturing your lips again. A whimper escaped your throat and John took the opportunity to tangle his tongue with yours. Your hands come up to his chest to ground yourself. The steady thump of his heart pulses where your hands rest. His hands rested on your hips as he pressed against you. You could feel his length harden when he wedged himself against you. You pull back to catch your breath. John took the opportunity to trail kisses along you jawline and neck. Before things could get more heated, your stomach takes the opportunity to voice its discomfort. John pulls back and lets out a bark of a laugh. “I suppose I should feed you first.” He says pulling a chair out for you to sit down in. “Now then sweetheart, how do you take your coffee?”