#they should be under the same roof right now

[sweetonsugden]

I’m currently watching S10 and Dean’s gone off the reservation with Crowley and the first blade. Castiel is getting weak from running out of his borrowed grace and in some cheap hotel room.

But with Dean missing, only Sam & Cass are left so why not recuperate at the bunker and help Sam research?

[cybersunnie]

rock-a-bye baby

RAFE CAMERON helps his drunk stepsister get ready for bed.

includes 18+ MDNI / DUBCON / STEPCEST / fem!drunk!reader / unprotected sex (pull out method) / rafe being an unreliable narrator / emotional manipulation / misogynistic undertones / wc 1.9k this is a work of fiction. the behaviors depicted do not reflect my personal beliefs, nor do i endorse or condone such behavior in real life.

Rafe hated that you were his stepsister. 

A little over two years ago, you and your mom moved into his home, and because you all lived under the same roof, that made you family. Bullshit. What you were was an extra mouth to feed. A new problem he didn’t want.

And now, with your arm thrown over his shoulders, Rafe was forced to help you up the stairs. 

A party was thrown at the Boneyard, and you clearly had too much to drink. He wasn’t exactly sober either, but you were slurring your words and couldn’t walk straight to save your life. A part of him wondered if you were playing it up. While he was tempted to leave you behind as not to deal with you, he knew his dad would be pissed if he had, and his dad already disliked him enough.

Eventually, the two of you made it to your room, and you fell face-first to your bed, nuzzling into your warm sheets. Rafe scoffed, a hand running down his face as he turned to leave, but you stopped him.

“Rafe,” your muffled voice called out.

He looked at you and saw you hadn’t moved a muscle. “What?”

You raised an arm. “Clothes.”

“What fucking clothes?”

When he failed to read your mind, a groan left your lips, and you rolled onto your back, a frown tugging your features. 

Oh, he would do anything to wipe that off your face. 

You squinted and then pointed at the clothes dresser behind him. “Nightgown. Top left drawer,” you ordered, the words strung together. Rafe couldn’t believe you were bossing him around. When he didn’t move, you pouted, “Please?”

Spoiled brat. 

But because he was a good stepbrother, he bit back his snippy comments and went to retrieve your nightgown. As he opened the designated drawer, his eyes were immediately drawn to your lace panties. You must have forgotten that those were with your collection of nightgowns. He cocked a brow and picked one up, the fabric soft between his fingers. Who the fuck were you wearing these for? A little boyfriend he didn’t know about? 

Rafe looked over his shoulder, and while you were preoccupied counting how many fingers you had on each hand, he slid it into his pocket. He didn’t know why he did it. An act on pure impulse, he supposed. You wouldn’t notice if one went missing, right? 

He cleared his throat and grabbed a nightgown, tossing it to you. 

“Nice panties,” he commented, maybe a little too casually.

Once you processed his words, a smirk tugged on his lips. You wore a scowl, but he knew you were embarrassed. 

You huffed. “Shut up. You’re so weird.”

Before he could say anything more, you started taking off your shirt. 

Everything within Rafe told him that that was his cue to leave, but his feet were glued to the ground. You didn’t ask him to go. Maybe you still needed him there. Maybe you wanted him to watch. That must be it. You wanted him to see what you were hiding under those clothes. 

After some struggle, you pulled your shirt over your head, movements sluggish. His eyes traced the length of your shoulders, then lingered on your tits for a second too long. Even if he was your stepbrother, he was still a man. And a man had the right to admire the female body. Surely, you would understand.

“You can go now, y’know?” 

His gaze snapped to your face. You looked confused, wary. Fuck, what was he doing? He should leave like you said. No, he couldn’t. Not yet. 

Rafe found himself closing your bedroom door. He turned the lock. Click. “Nah, I’m gonna help you get ready for bed.” 

There was a long pause. “I don’t need help.”

“Cut the shit. You can’t even walk without tripping over yourself.” Rafe walked towards your bed, crouching once he was in front of you. He placed a hand on your knee. “C’mon, just let your big brother help, hm?”

He could see the gears in your mind starting to turn, but you must have ignored it because you said, “You’re barely a year older than me.”

Rafe hummed, unfazed. 

The hand on your knee lifted to the button of your shorts. “Let’s take this shit off,” he murmured, his eyes flicking to your face. You were just watching. 

When he unbuttoned and unzipped it, you moved, putting on your nightgown. Poor thing. Were you getting shy? Did you not want him to see you in just your lingerie? His fingers curled into the waistband of your shorts and gave a light tug. Not needing further instruction, you stood up, and he pulled it down your legs, fighting back a grin.

Too fucking easy.

As you stepped out of your shorts, a hand on his shoulder to keep yourself steady, Rafe stared up at you. The nightgown you wore was white and silky and stopped above your knees. He itched to push them up. Luckily, he didn’t have to do a thing. You raised the silk fabric just enough to allow you to remove your bra, and his gaze dropped to where your breasts were, your nipples hardening underneath. His lips parted, and he sank to his knees.

“Rafe, what’re you doing?” you asked, your eyes still hazy from the alcohol you drank.

Only then did he realize that his hands snuck up your nightgown, fingers gripping your thighs. He was mortified. Not because of what he was doing but rather at the thought you would reject him completely.

He loosened his hold on you. “I’m just, uh, testing the waters.” 

A crease formed between your brows. “What?”

“I’m testing—” his hands slid further up, “—the waters.”

And then Rafe paused. He waited for a reaction from you. For you to slap him. Curse him out. Anything. But it never came. 

Instead, you reached down to pry his hands off you. “Stop, what—? I don’t understand.”

“I do.” He held you tighter, closer, his chin hitting your abdomen as he stared at you, eyes wide and frantic. You pushed his head, though your attempt was weak. “You want this. You want me.”

You stilled. There was a look that loomed over your eyes. Fear. Fear because he was right. No matter how forbidden it was. How fucked it was. You wanted him. You wouldn’t admit that to yourself, but he knew that to be true. He just needed to find proof to help you realize. So, Rafe pushed up your nightgown and worked to spread your legs apart. And there it was, your cotton panties clinging to your already weeping cunt. 

“I fucking knew it,” he whispered, and his thumb hovered over your clothed pussy. “Shit, you’re so wet.” 

You shoved his hand away and squeezed your thighs shut. He watched your gaze dart around your room as if the walls were closing in. You looked overwhelmed—ashamed that you had been caught wanting him the same way he wanted you. No, he couldn’t have that. 

He stood up, hands reaching for your face. “Hey, hey, you’re good,” he soothed, searching for your eyes, your cheeks hot under his palms. 

Finally, you looked at him. “Rafe, I—”

“You trust me, right?” He gestured to himself, fingers tapping his chest. “Right?”

You shook your head. “Yes, but we can’t—”

He shushed you, your name a whisper. “We can. We just gotta be lowkey ‘bout it, yeah?”

You looked torn, your morals pulling you one way and your desires another. But Rafe had you stretched thin, and you caved in like he knew you would. “Right, yeah.”

A pleased smile flashed across his face. “I’m gonna take care of you,” he promised, your cheeks smushed between his hands, “gonna make you feel so good.”

Then he leaned in, his nose nudging yours. You didn’t pull away. He took that as an invitation and kissed you. The first was fleeting, lips brushing, barely there. You still didn’t pull away. After that, he didn’t hold back. He licked into your mouth, hungry. You tasted like the beer you got drunk on, and now he was getting drunk on you. For something considered so vile, he never felt more alive. If this sin were his doom, he would die a happy man.

Rafe was the first to part. “Turn ‘round.” You did as you were told. He placed a hand on your shoulder and another on the small of your back. “Bend over for me. That’s it, fuck, look at you.”

He had envisioned you like this before, but seeing it with his own eyes made his cock stir. With a suppressed groan, he folded over you, his chest pressed against your back, trapping you between him and your mattress. “Gonna make this quick, don’t worry.” His hand slid between the two bodies, working to get his shorts off. “Wouldn’t want us getting caught.”

He felt you nod. You didn’t resist. 

Everything after that blurred together. Movements rushed and jittery and fueled by unadulterated lust.

Rafe had your nightgown flipped over your ass and your panties down at your ankles, his hips rutting into you. He had to clamp his hand over your mouth to mute your whines, one of the sweetest sounds he had ever heard. He knew he should feel disgusted with himself, but he wasn’t. Not one bit. He was right where he wanted to be, buried deep in your warm, wet pussy. And you wanted this, too. He knew you did, despite the glazed look in your eyes. You were just lost in the pleasure of it all. 

“Takin’ this dick so well,” he breathed into your ear, his thrusts growing desperate. “Shit, gonna make sure you don’t need anyone else. Just me. That sounds nice, huh?” 

His mindless murmurs went unanswered. 

You blinked once. Twice. You whimpered into his palm. 

That was enough for him.

It was better you stayed quiet, anyway. You wouldn’t want everyone in Tannyhill to know how much of a slut you were, letting your stepbrother fuck you like this. Rafe would hate for that to happen to you. 

When your cunt fluttered around his cock, he stifled a moan and sunk his teeth into your shoulder. He wasn’t going to last much longer. But he was keeping his word—he would make this quick. His hips stuttered against your ass, chasing his release, wishing he could just cum in your tight pussy with no risk of you getting pregnant. 

With one last thrust, he pulled out, stroking his cock until he came, painting your ass with his cum. 

He panted, his chest rising and falling. Satisfied, he stuffed his softening dick back into his boxers and put on his shorts, making sure the lace panty he took was still in his pocket. Slowly, you lifted your head off your bed and tried to push yourself up, your arms trembling. 

“Don’t, alright?” Rafe leaned over you, his hand brushing back the strands of hair stuck to your face. “I told you, I’m gonna take care of you.”

There wasn’t much fight left in you. Not when you were drunk and all fucked out. So when your eyes found him, you dropped back to the mattress, nodding. He smoothed his thumb across your cheek then kissed your temple. And Rafe did as promised. He cleaned you up, helped you brush your teeth, and tucked you into bed. 

Like a good stepbrother would.

sunnie speaks! stepbro!rafe lacks sooo much self-awareness its crazy. also literally the filthiest thing i ever wrote. but i hope you freaks found how fucked up he is interesting to read?? i guess??? — remember, this is a work of fiction! let's chat about stepbro!rafe

if you like my work, consider following @sunniefics to stay up to date on all my future fics!

[oh-no-its-bird]

Really stupid au where when they were younger, Kakashi and Obito shared an accidental kiss a lot like Sasuke and Naruto. (Kakashi commits to his mask shortly after but will never not insist it's unrelated)

Years later and Kakashi, trying to cheer up Naruto and Sasuke ab their own embaressing accidental first kiss, shares his own story

Then, years later when Obito reveals himself on the battlefield, instead of going "woah, another Uchiha!?" when he hears his name, Naruto can't help but point and shout OH MY GOD UR THE GUY WHO KISSED SENSEI!!!!!!!!

Instant dead silence. (Obito wants to die)

Sakura, who never heard the story ab how it was a one time accidental kiss: "omg... sensei's childhood boyfriend went evil on him... this is so fucked up"

Obito is VIOLENTLY thrown off by this turn of events (and also hasn't actually thought ab it in years oh my god that did happen didn't it)

Kakashi, seeing how badly it threw him off, and also the kind of person who plays hard into throwing people off and generally fucking w them to gain an edge, seeing Sakura mumbling ab lovers to enemies and just kinda goes "Yeah Obito I can't believe you'd do this to me I thought we had smthn special."

"Yeah a rivalry????"

"So I was only ever a way for u to get stronger,, figures u were using me,,,"

[Confused Obito car crash noises]

Sakura yells smthn ab him being a deadbeat and how Kakashi can do so much better and Naruto is instantly shouting in agreement as Sasuke stands there like "hn." Which is basically the same thing for him

Kakashi just starts straight up lying actually

"What about all those picnics we went on... watching the sun set over konoha..."

"Are you talking about when Minato said we weren't allowed to come back inside till we stopped arguing and ate on opposite ends of the roof bc we couldn't even look at eachother without yelling???"

"It was so romantic."

Obito, starting to actually doubt himself, "was that a date????"

(It was not.)

"You died in my arms..."

"I died under a rock"

"We literally got eye married" (not a thing, he just made this up 3 seconds ago)

"We got WHAT" (no one can prove him wrong tho bc no surviving Uchiha knows that much ab their clans marriage traditions)

"Oh my god sensei's husband is a deadbeat" - sakura, horrified (and maybe a little delighted)

"Figures." -Sasuke, who's been in proximity w Obito for some time now and absoloutley believes every word ab this topic Kakashi is saying

"Woah. This is almost as bad as the fact he murdered my parents when I was a baby dattebayo" - Naruto who's priorities are NOT what they should be

"Ok. I wouldn't go that far." - Sasuke, who's priorities are also fucked but not THAT fucked, oh my god Naruto

"No, no he's right. We should kill him even harder for this" - Sakura, who doesn't actually agree but wants an excuse for more juicy sensei love drama (and also wants to see Obito beaten to death anyways)

[myjungkookthighs]

MY FAVORITE JUNGKOOK FANFICS & RECOMMENDATIONS PART1 ✮⋆˙────────୨ৎ───────˙⋆✮

My first lists! These from my favorites JJK fics writers and how amazing their works and most of the fics are top-notch and i really recommend y'all to read it and show some love to their works!! 💗 ( Most of the fics are 🔞+ ) @myjungkookthighs

♥︎— NEEDY | Part 1, Part 2 by @girlygguk ( I'm going to say i love all of my baby lyssa's works she's an amazing writer that i adored so much. All her fics like a drugs to me , top-notch! lol)

nerd!jk x cheerleader!(f)reader

hiding his feelings when you didn’t even know his name was hard. hiding his neediness and obsession when you finally did know his name and you were his fucking girlfriend? impossible. well, then it's a good thing you like him needy.

♥︎—FIRST CLASS | Part 1 by @girlygguk ( chef kiss🤌)

rich student!jk x (f)rich student!reader

in which you are just another spoiled, bitchy, annoyingly gorgeous trust-fund baby who has everyone at Yonsei University eating from the palm of your hand. and jeon jungkook, your spoiled, fuck-boy, annoyingly gorgeous trust-fund baby best friend, is always first in line to take a bite.

♥︎—CRAZY | Part 1, Part2 by @girlygguk (addicted like a mad person)

ceo!jk x employee!(f)reader

you know it sounds twisted. that most people would see hyungwon as the perfect boyfriend. healthy, balanced, all the things that relationships should be. that’s when you realized... you weren't like most people. but that's okay. because neither is jungkook.

♥︎—HABITS (STAY HIGH) | Part1 by @girlygguk

student plug!jk x rich girl!reader

You9:06 PM do you be 🙄’ing other bitches yes or no

♥︎—BAD THINGS | Part 1 by @girlygguk

jock fuckboy!jk x nerdy fuckgirl!reader

getting jealous, sending mixed signals, simping for a gorgeous geek who has no idea what effect she has on him... it's just what jungkook does best. oh, and football. he's really good at football.

♥︎—DENIAL | Part1, Part2 by @girlygguk

idol!jk x (f)actress!reader

it's been a plethora of secret meetups, quickies in the bathrooms of his award shows, and 2 am 'you up?' texts during your year-long situationship with jungkook. you both agreed in the beginning that your careers are far too hectic to commit to anything serious, but you can't shake the shitty ache in your chest every time the high wears off, or when you're crawling out of his bed in the middle of the night. trying to exile the shitty feeling of longing that you harbor for him, you spend time with another one of your guy friends. jungkook sees, and he's ma

♥︎— BETWEEN THE RIDE AND THE ROSES (series) by @focusonkayjay

biker!Jk x flower shop owner!Reader

There's an insane turn of events when your calm and peaceful life is intruded by Jungkook, a biker boy who sets up his loud business right next to your own. Your paths cross under unlikely circumstances, starting with a clash of personalities but gradually you find yourself establishing a deeper connection with the annoyingly attractive biker jerk. You both have no idea what's in store for you guys as you try your best to put up with each other.

♥︎— FRIENDS WITHIN TOUCHING DISTANCE (series)by @dailynnt (Shout out to my love, her fic so amazing !!)

Best friend!Jungkook x Fem!Reader fwb!

What happens when two best friends try to get along under the same roof? You've been living with Jungkook for three months now, but your cohabitation is still a challenge for you. He continues to live like a real bachelor without following the rules you agreed upon from the beginning of your decision to live together. Should you find a compromise or should you find a new place to live?

♥︎—OLDER by @lovieku

dilf!jk x inexperienced!fem reader (i'm sucker for older or dilf jk!😭)

you’ve tried, but you can’t help yourself from crushing on your best friend’s dad. hot, buff, tatted up and successful, mr. jeon is the starring actor in all of your wettest dreams. and as you wake up from one while sleeping over at his house after his daughter’s birthday party, you don’t expect all of them to suddenly come true. but they do.

♥︎—HANDS ON ME by @lovieku

nerd!jk x popular!fem reader

it’s about to look like jeongguk’s birthday everyday with you.

♥︎—OBVIOUS by @lovieku

bookstore employee!jk x virgin!fem reader

you lose your virginity to jeongguk, the only boy you’d ever trust with such weight. and what you both feel for each other couldn’t be more obvious.

♥︎— GUYS MY AGE (one-shot) Drabble 1, Drabble 2 ,by @kooktrash

dilf jk x female college student!y/n [she/her] ( i had read 3 times cuz i'm sucker of it bcs IT'S CHEF KISS🤌)

a summer spent at your friend’s place wasn’t something to be anything to look forward to. her hot, young dad would seem to change that for you when you decide a game of teasing would suffice your boredom. you got more than you bargained for when you realize he’s not a fan of games.

♥︎— INFRUNAMI by @kooktrash

friends to lovers. y/n[afab, she/her] x best friend jungkook

you’ve made great friends throughout the years but none like jeon jungkook. he’s there for you when you need him and although at times when things get complicated between your feelings and thoughts… there’s one thing for certain. you both have been wasting time acting like there’s nothing between you.

♥︎— DEPEND ON ME by @kooktrash

Hybridbunnygirl!reader x human!jungkook

you’re so used to letting Jungkook do everything for you. he babies you almost and you’re both constantly reminded of the strangeness in your friendship. you’ve always loved him but he can’t see you as anything but the little bunny girl he used to protect. you change his mind

♥︎— NEVER AGAIN by @kooktrash

neighbor!jk x Reader

jeon jungkook is just your nosy neighbor who can’t seem to be anything less than a selfish, heart breaking, prick in your eyes. yet somehow he manages to wiggle his way into your life but is it enough for him to change your mind or will he prove your judgements right?

♥︎—MY DEAR FRIEND by @kooktrash

friends!jk x experienced!reader, f2l ( about a few day need to moved on from this fic)

just friends? keep telling yourself that, you and Jungkook have always danced on the line of friendship and something more but lately you’ve struggled being able to tell where you guys stand.

♥︎— BUNNY ADVENTURES by @kooktrash

hybrid!Jungkook x human!reader

you had absolutely no intentions of ever owning a hybrid until jungkook came along. a mistreated, misunderstood rabbit hybrid who’d only ever wanted was to be treated like an equal.

♥︎— RISQUE (series) by @mercurygguk

older!jk x reader age gap au (my all time favorite 😭)

in which jungkook struggles to keep his relationship with you strictly appropriate and it’s not like you’re making it easy for him.

♥︎— THE DILF INSTALLMENTS (series) by @mercurygguk

dad!jungkook x f. reader

this series follows jungkook’s life as a divorced father. but wait, how exactly does one balance being a father, a boyfriend, a friend, and a respectable boss at the same time? read the installments below to find out!

♥︎— THE ART OF (DILF JK SERIES) by @venusiangguk

 dilf jk x grocery store clerk reader ( never over this bcs it's cute 🤧)

you find a baby in your store and in turn, a dilf finds you

♥︎— ONLY WHEN IT'S US (series) by @luvismenu

Uni! Jungkook x Fem Reader Strangers to??

you both say it’s nothing serious, but with every touch and argument, it gets harder to stay away.

♥︎— STARBOY (series)by @luvismenu

popular classmate!jungkook x class president!reader

everyone assumes you two can't stand each other, but is that really true?

♥︎—BED CHEM (Mini Series) by @muniimyg

Uni student!Jungkook x uni Student! Reader Frenemies to lovers!

after overhearing jungkook fuck someone else; you can’t help but want out of being his frenemy

♥︎— BABYDADDY!JK (series) by @muniimyg

ex!au jungkook x ex!reader

Co- parenting

♥︎—ITBOYFRIEND!JUNGKOOK | (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) by @muniimyg

ITbf!Jk x Fem Reader

♥︎—JUST TAKE IT (series) by @ahgasegotarmy116

Inexperienced f!reader x Best Friend's Dad Jungkook (20 year age gap) dilf! jk

A turn of events has the people you thought you trusted stabbing you in the back and leaving you broken hearted and betrayed. Who knew though that sometimes things just happen for a reason

♥︎—BANG-ABLE (mini one-shot/drabble) by @ahgasegotarmy116

f!reader x Sex Bot Jungkook (I'm obsessed!! 😭)

You've been single for way too long and you're done with causal sex and all the drama that comes along with it...so why not try something new?

♥︎— DEEP SIX (mini series) by @bratkook but i read on AO3

biker!jk x reader

It’s like a stranger had a key, came inside of my mind and moved all my things around. He didn’t know snakes can hear the prey, can’t try to break the psyche down.

♥︎— CHAMPANGE CONFFETI by @margotw10bis

boyfriend!Jungkook x camgirl!reader

Your boyfriend loves watching you on live but his whole mood changes when he reads one specific comment from one of your fans

♥︎— PARADISE (series) by @minisugakoobies i read on AO3

 Stripper!Jungkook x Reader (my absolute favorite!😭)

That sexy man on stage - the one currently giving your friend the lap dance of her LIFE - is your super shy neighbor, Jeon Jungkook?!

♥︎— THE PINK PILL -"3 DAYS" by @dollfaceksj

best friend!jungkook x fem!reader (top-notch!i read twice😭)

In each of these universes, you find yourself consuming what is known as the pink pill. This pill is essentially a drug that enhances your libido to the max and you’ll quite literally never experience arousal like you do when you’ve taken this pill. Thankfully, in each universe, there’s a man that’s ready to help you explore and reach your peak of sexual euphoria.

♥︎— THE WEEKEND by @chryblossomjjk

dilf!jk x babysitter reader ( the best thing ever! 😭)

every weekend, you give jungkook a little taste of something he’s missing monday through friday.

♥︎—SUGARPLUM ELERGY by @bymoonchild

College!Jungkook x Reader , fwb (i can't let go of this story top-notch)

You know no bounds nor depth with Jungkook. While your fuck buddy loves sleeping in your bed and doing laundry for you with his favourite fabric softener, you are in love with a mysterious honeyed, velvety voice on Soundcloud. All’s fine, until you find out that the voice that metaphors your heart to a sweet sugarplum melody actually belongs to the boy who has been taking up a special spot in your bed and in your heart, strumming at your heartstrings all this while. Or, Jungkook has one braincell, but it’s heart-shaped.

♥︎— MICROWAVE (MIS)ADVENTURE by @bymoonchild

housemate!Jungkook x Reader

Out of all things to be afraid of, Jungkook, the seat-stealer of your 8am class and annoying housemate whom you despise with every fiber of your being, chooses to have a phobia of microwaves, but he loves buying microwaveable food – because come on, they’re irresistible – and you somehow find yourself getting dragged into his microwaves (mis)adventures. Cue chaos, sarcasm-laced banter and an unplanned romance.

♥︎— COLD NIGHTS AND BLURRED LINES| WARM NIGHTS & CLEAR LINES| cnbldrabbles by @awrkive

basketball!jungkook x nerdy!(fem) reader,fwb (i'm crazy over this 😭)

jungkook and you have been in a sexual relationship with each other for four months now, and it’s casual for the most part. but as time passes, you can’t help but feel that some of the lines suddenly got blurred in the process. is it a cliché to blur the lines with your fuck buddy? it definitely is. will you do something about it? both of your emotional constipation have a hard time saying yes.

♥︎—CAN'T LET IT GO (part 1)| PHYSICALLY OBSESSED(part2) by @chunghasweetie

dom!oc x nerdysub!jjk

loser nerd jk has crushed on her for years and is assigned to be her college tutor for her calculus class. studying doesn’t go exactly as planned and he ends up losing his virginity in the best way possible.

oc finally cuffs jk and they celebrate

♥︎— HE GIVE IT TO ME (Part1) | WONT TOUCH YOU LIKE ME (Part2)by @chunghasweetie

fem!oc x dealer!jjk

always giving out free shit to his favorite customer.

after a petty argument jungkook spots you showing out at a party with the hosts arm around your waist.

♥︎— MERAKI by @taegularities

grumpy!Jk x sunshine!reader

Jungkook finds you irritating; far too energetic and insistent. But his perception of you changes bit by bit, minute by minute, when he's persuaded into spending an entire night with you at places he doesn't know.

♥︎—NO NUT NOVEMBER by @2hightocare

dilf!jungkook x fem!reader

Jungkook didn’t think stuff through when he made a bet for “No Nut November” he seemed to forget that he can’t say no to you.

♥︎— FOR ME (DILF!JK DRABBLES COLLECTION ) by @personasintro

dilf!jungkook x reader

A collection of drabbles accompanied with dilf!jk

♥︎— BURNING HOUR by @jungqkook

Richbf!jk x gf!reader (you gonna need holy water later lmao!)

there’s nothing better than spending an entire day at your boyfriend’s yatch, tanning and waiting for the sunset with a drink in your hand… too bad your boyfriend had other plans for you.

♥︎—BETTER BOYFRIEND THAN HIM by @jungqkook

friend!Jk x reader

jungkook makes it a mission to prove to you that he can be better than your boring boyfriend. when it comes to sex, at least.

♥︎— FIGHT FOR YOU (series) by @ahundredtimesover

bodyguard!jk x heiress!reader

Working at a private security agency has its perks. The downside? Being the personal bodyguard of spoiled, rich heiresses like you. But there are things that Jungkook didn’t expect, like rejecting you, falling for you, and realizing what he’d been missing all along.

♥︎— GUARDED by @junghelioseok

bodyguard!Jk x Reader

❛❛ good girl. ❜❜ ❛❛ don’t get shy on me now. ❜❜

♥︎—BODYGUARD by @sxtaep

bodyguard!jk, idol!reader

when you’re stuck in a near-death situation, your high school crush, now your bodyguard, begins to regret ever rejecting you 5 years ago.

♥︎—STRIKE THREE by @avveh (ao3)

Bodyguark!jk x Bratty!Reader ( i'm obsessed!)

When discipline and chaos meet, one will always rise to the top.

♥︎— EVERYTHING IN YOU |Part1, Part2 , DRABBLE1, DRABBLE 2, DRABBLE 3 by @jjungkookislife

roommate!sperm donor Jk x pregnant! Reader (my favorite iso cute)

You want a baby and Jungkook is willing to help

♥︎— BABYMAKER by @badbtssmut

bestfriend!Jk x Reader

You want a baby, but you just broke up with your boyfriend but your best friend Jungkook offers you the solution to your heart break, he’ll give you your baby, no strings attached.

♥︎— SPECIAL PREPARATION by @badbtssmut

Piercer!Jungkook x Reader

You go to a piercing shop to get a clit piercing but your piercer Jungkook has an interesting way of prepping his clients.

─────────────────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────────────────

Actually i like all Miss Cherry @redcherrykook fics and i read them all and her works always the bomb never disappointed me and here i will share my most favorites from her🤪💗

♥︎— SAFEWORD

daddy!jungkook and sub oc

♥︎—SPOT ME INSTEAD

gymrat!JK x gymrat!reader

♥︎—MIDNIGHT SNACK

idol!Jk x gf!Reader

♥︎—MILK AND CREAM

sub!JKx noona!Reader

♥︎—BAD BOY,GOOD GIRL/HIGHSCHOOL SWEET

highschool sweethearts!jk x Reader

♥︎— (TENT)ATIVE ENEMIES

friendnemie!Jk x Reader

♥︎— Kinktober D1-SOMNOPHILLIA

needy JK x reader

♥︎—Kinktober D8- OFFICER PLAYS & CUFFS

roleplay!!JKx bad girl oc

♥︎—Kinktober D10- SPANKING & PUNISHING

DADDY KINK JK! x sub oc

♥︎—Kinktober D12- MIRROR SEX

idol bf! Jk x gf! Reader

♥︎—Kinktober D16- MARKING

possessive bf! JK x Reader

♥︎—Kinktober D19- DACRYPHILLIA (crying kink)

Daddy! Jk x Crybaby! reader

♥︎—Kinktober D22- EXHIBITIONISM

bf!jk x gf reader

by @redcherrykook

That's it for part1 !

[chimggukk]

tits and bits ` jjk (teaser)

Synopsis: Your parents' long-awaited vacation is finally happening. The only problem? You're not invited. Is being excluded from your own parents' plans not enough? Now you have to stay with the Jeons for two months, especially their son. But did someone mention about your supposed love interest in him? Pairing: fuckboy!jkxoc Genre: exfriends to lovers, non idol au, friends au Rating: 18+ Word Count: 476 a/n: this is a teaser to my upcoming oneshot, work in progess. If you like this, please comment, I just wanna know if I should post this or not 😀🥰❣️

Slicing the apple into even pieces, Jungkook meticulously chops all the fruits one by one before arranging the freshly cut pieces onto the glass plate. Kiwis, apples, peaches, all the fruits and their peels sit separated on the kitchen counter as he remains engrossed in the task.

Hearing a faint voice trailing in his direction, he looks up to his right. Walking beside his mother, he spots you entering inside the living room with your laptop bag, handbag and a set of files in hands. Setting down the knife, he starts picking up the fruit peels before throwing them in the dustbin.

Turning off the stove, he carefully grabs a hold of the steel bowl with the table cloth before placing it on the counter as well. Freshly melted chocolate sitting in the bowl stares back at him as he arranges the fruits into the plates.

Plopping on the couch, you set your materials aside as he hears you chatting with his mother. Your tired, feeble voice sounds through the air as his ears shoot up. The small crack in your voice here and there was enough to indicate him that you had a pretty long day at work.

He had been noticing you growing busy for the past few days. Late nights and early mornings had been chipping away at your peace since the last weekend. Living under the same roof with each other was not either of you had expected. While he did expect you to grow hateful for him after all those years, he definitely had not expected you to deal with him so calmly and maturely.

Wiping his hands with the table cloth, he picks up the food tray before making his way towards the couch. Setting it down on the table, he smiles at you before greeting you with his usual sweetness.

Admiring the cutely cut fruit bites, your eyes sparkle in joy as he sneakily glances at you. Thanking him for his actions, you reach out for the fork before piercing it through the fruit, dipping them into the melted chocolate.

Smiling back at you in acknowledgement, he looks over to his mother as she props her chin slightly upwards, her eyes showing approval. Too busy to notice, you continue to dig into the sweet treats as Mrs. Jeon passes a small smile to Jungkook before leaving towards the kitchen.

Entering the kitchen, Jungkook's mother catches a glimpse of the burnt cookies sitting in the tray, hiding behind the stove. Shaking her head in disappointment for the umpteenth time, she takes them out of the spot before throwing them away.

Turning her head in his direction, she looks at Jungkook who seems eerily calm, as if he didn't almost set the cookies on fire.

"So.. you were going have cookies readily baked for me when I am back, where are they?"

[happy74827]

One Call Away

[Wade Wilson x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: During one of his "jobs," Deadpool gets a call from his favorite gal [GIF Creds: jdsheart]

WC: 1970

Category: Fluff, Major Comedy {TW: Deadpool’s Humor/Nonfiltered Personality}

This man is so hard to write. I’m always stressing the noggin when it comes to planning and plotting 😔

『••✎••』

"And away we go..."

One neck crack and a couple of hip twists later, he was off like Aladdin and his fucktoy carpet, scaling the building similarly to a chameleon on LSD.

The only thing that was missing was some epic music.

He'd been chasing this baddie around the city for almost two days now. Some big-shot mob boss with ties to Hydra, or the Mafia, or the Yakuza, or some other three-letter-acronym organization. It was hard to keep track of them all at this point. They were all the same, except for the name.

They all had their own agenda.

Kill him, keep him prisoner, pay him off...

Wade never cared enough to listen because it was always the same. He just got hired to do the dirty work, and the pay was good.

The killing was better.

This one, however, was particularly good at eluding him. He'd been trying to get his hands on this man for a few days now. It wasn't as though he was trying to be stealthy or anything, either. He'd walked right up to his front door, knocked, and was greeted with a spray of machine gun bullets.

So, the usual.

But then the guy ran and didn't stop. It was like the fucking Roadrunner met Sonic the Hedgehog, and they decided to fuck around and find out.

Wade was getting real sick and tired of being a Roadrunner, too. He had a reputation to uphold. He wasn't known as the Merc with the Mouth for nothing. He was supposed to be the one doing the running and the killing.

Not the other way around.

Finally, finally, he managed to reach the roof where the guy was currently taking cover behind a small brick shack. The sun was rising, but it was still dark, and there were a couple of floodlights shining on the rooftop. It made him think of the night he'd had that heart-to-heart with Blind Al, even though all she really wanted was for him to bring her some of that special brownie mix.

What a night that had been.

But anyway, this monologue is starting to get too long, and we should probably move things along, eh?

Right.

So, the baddie.

His name was something long and non-English.

Salvatore, or Santino, or Salvation... Whatever the fuck it was, it didn't really matter. What mattered was that it was time to make him dead.

He stepped around the corner and was met with a spray of bullets, all of which lodged themselves into his Kevlar vest.

"Oh, come on!" he yelled over the sound of the gunfire. "This is real leather, you know. I'm tired of all the offscreen sewing and shit."

When the spray finally ended, he took a moment to catch his breath.

"…ow," he whispered to himself.

"You shouldn't have followed me here," the man said.

"Yeah, whatever," Deadpool replied. "Look, I'll make this easy for you. You drop down and give me fifty, and I'll let you keep that hideous mustache you're sporting."

The man's eyes widened in surprise.

"It's not that bad, is it?"

"Yes, yes it is," Deadpool assured him. "You got a squirrel living in it or something?"

"It's just a little bit of gray, you dick," the man argued. "What about you? What's with the mask? Are you hiding a mustache under there, too, or something? Maybe some acne scars?"

Deadpool shook his head and stepped forward, his guns drawn.

"Don't come any closer!"

"You know, this would be much more intimidating if you didn't look like a cartoon mouse."

"Stop it with the mustache!"

"Alright, alright," Deadpool said. "Enough with the mustache. But what is it about your hairline? I can't put my finger on it."

The man sighed in exasperation and pulled out his pistol, aiming it right at Deadpool's face.

"Hey now, don't point that at me," Deadpool scolded him. "That's not a very nice thing to do."

He ignored him and pulled the trigger, a loud boom ringing out as the bullet fired. It whizzed by him but missed its mark.

"You really are a dick," He grumbled before aiming his gun right between the man's eyes. And he was going to shoot, honest.

He really was.

But then his phone rang, and he was well-reminded of the current song playing through his head.

I'm a buff baby that can dance like a man. I can shake-ah my fanny, I can shake-ah my can!

Needless to say, he was distracted.

He lowered his gun and looked down at his pocket, where his phone was still ringing and still vibrating against his leg.

"Shit, hold that thought," He said to the guy, and he holstered his gun.

"Wh-what the hell are you doing?!"

Deadpool put his finger up to shush him before pulling his phone out of his pocket to answer it.

If you're an evil witch, I’ll punch you for fu—

"Heyyyy," he said in a sing-songy voice, "you've reached the phone sex hotline. For kinks and fetishes, press one. For booty calls, press two. For your favorite mercenary, press three."

"Ey, pendejo—" His opponent started, but he cut him off by snapping and raising his finger.

"Cut it, Tuco Salamanca. Breaking Bad called and wants its meth-cooking mustache back."

"Wha-I-you-"

"Anyways, this is your favorite merc speaking. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?"

"Is this a bad time?"

Wade's eyes widened in shock, and his jaw dropped open when he heard her voice on the other end of the line.

"Baby girl! Is that you? Oh, how I've missed your voice. It's like hearing an angel, or an angelic chorus, or a whole bunch of angels, but you're the most important one. Like, the lead singer or something."

"I literally saw you last night." Your voice was always drenched with the most amazing kind of sarcasm, and he'd missed it.

"And?"

"It's only been a few hours."

"And?"

"That's a short amount of time."

"And?"

You sighed, but he knew you weren't really annoyed.

"Anyways, you sounded busy," you continued, "so I'll just let you go."

"What?! No! Don't hang up!" He shouted into the receiver. "I've only fiddled with my pistols! Nothing interesting is happening right now!"

"Your pistols, huh?" You asked a hint of mischief in your voice.

"Well, yeah. They're the most important part of the mission, you know."

In the corner of his eye, he could see his target making his way towards the edge of the building. Quickly and efficiently, without dropping his attention from his conversation with you, he lifted his gun and fired a shot at the man's knee.

"Ah, fuck!" the man screamed in pain. "My knee!"

"Hey! Language!" Deadpool scolded him. "The lady of the house is listening!"

"Lady of the- what the fuck?!"

"I said language, you mustachioed rat!"

"Mustachioed rat?" You asked.

"Sorry, babe," he replied. "You know how excited I get when Downtown Abbey is on."

“There’s gunshots in Downtown Abbey?"

"Gunshots? Oh, no, no. That was… uh, a car alarm. Yeah, the neighbor's car alarm was going off."

"Uh-huh," you said, not sounding very convinced. And, of course, that was right around the time the guy's gun went off again, this time hitting him square in the shoulder. It made the phone fall out of his hand and clatter onto the ground, but the call was still connected.

"Dammit!" He yelled, looking at the fresh blood dripping down his arm. "That's gonna take forever to heal!"

"Who are you talking to?" The man demanded, his gun still aimed at Deadpool's face. "You're working with someone?"

"Hey, now, I don't remember giving you permission to talk," Deadpool told him, holding his bloody arm up to his face. "Look, I've gotta call you back, babe. I know it's been so heartbreakingly long—"

"Again, only a few hours," you said.

"—but duty calls. Love you, bye."

"Love you, bye."

With that, the line disconnected.

"Ugh," he groaned, his heart aching for the loss of your sweet voice. "I miss her already."

"Ey," his opponent growled, drawing his attention. He started speaking in rapid-fire Spanish, which Deadpool didn't really understand, but he didn't have to. The guy was just ranting and raving.

"Alright, alright, chill," Deadpool said. "Just calm down. It’ll all be over soon, little buddy."

"I am not little! I am a giant!" The guy protested, and Wade could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. "And I will not chill!"

"Well, can't argue with that, I guess," Deadpool said with a shrug, and he took aim. But before he could pull the trigger, the guy was running again.

"Hey, what did I tell you about running?!" He yelled, but his voice fell on deaf ears as the guy reached the ledge.

"I am a giant!"

"No, you're a giant asshat!"

"I will not be bested by some masked buffoon!"

"Buff? Me? Why, I never!"

"You're the biggest asshole I've ever met!"

"You know what? I am a big ass! A big, round, bubbly ass." He paused for a second. "Hey, what's your favorite flavor?"

"Fuck you, you red-clad imbecile!"

"You know, I'd ask you out to dinner first, but we're kinda past that now."

"Argh!"

"Alright, enough stalling," Deadpool said. "It's time to end this."

"Yes," the guy said, turning his gun back on Deadpool. "It is."

Of course, Deadpool being the smart-ass he was, he'd already taken a step to the side. As the bullet whizzed past him, he reached for his gun.

"Now, where did I put that thing? Oh, there it is."

He aimed the gun and fired, and the man fell back onto the ground. The bullet hit him right in the middle of his forehead, his blood splattering all over the concrete.

"Ha ha! Fatality. Deadpool wins!" He said, his voice taking on the deep, grounded tone of the narrator from Mortal Kombat. "Flawless Victory."

He stood over the body for a few seconds, reveling in his victory, before he felt the presence of another.

The gun on his right side got ripped from its holster, and the barrel was aimed back into his face, as it always seems to be.

But, he already sensed it was coming, so his fingers wrapped around his other and aimed that right in the golden spot… and let’s just say, The Golden Girls was a little less golden and a lot more crimson.

"Wow, this has got to be a record," He said as he bent down to stare at the new one’s anguish. "Two dead ugly mustaches in the same day. You can call me Sweeney Todd because shit… I just shaved you the fuck up."

He didn’t give the poor bastard a chance to even whimper before he fired another two shots into the man's head. All in all, this had been the easiest payday he'd had in a while.

He picked up his cell phone and slipped it back into its pocket before bending down and scooping up the mustache man's pistol.

"Ooh, lookie here, a nice, shiny new pistol," he said to himself. "Just what I've always wanted. Well, I don't actually need it. It's not like I have any other holes in my body, but you know what they say. The more the merrier."

He stuffed the gun in his holster and turned around, heading back the way he'd come.

"Time to get back to the good stuff," he said. "I have a date with my favorite girl."

He hopped up onto the ledge and looked down, his eyes locking on the window to his apartment.

And when he arrived, bloody and battered, you could only smile while holding up little ole Mary Puppins in all her drooling glory.

God, how he missed his girls.

[kkentobox]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀his tender loving! w/ jschlatt.

description: having a loud online persona, most assume your new york man is a hassle to keep around. there was no need to prove them otherwise, his gentle love was all yours.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀tags: fluff! sappy & soft schlatt, female reader!

authors note: i fell back in love with him after not watching his content for a good year, so i couldn’t help myself ^_^ reblogs & likes are always appreciated <3

⠀⠀recording days always amused you. you had very little information of who jay was before you had begun dating, so anytime you were in his home while he was recording; it surprised you. he was known to be very loud, cocky of who he was and how much he made. his charming humor would remain, but everything else always made you want to witness the scene up close.

with his booming laughter echoing the halls, you found comfort in the noise from your place in the living room. mindlessly scrolling through your phone while you patiently waited for his recording to end. quietness began to seep through the house, ultimately letting you know he had finally wrapped everything up. being under the same roof yet being separated for hours, excitement began to bubble in you as you awaited for him to find you.

as you predicted, jay had found you on the couch wearing nothing but shorts that left nothing to the imagination and one of his many sweaters. “you finished early, should i be expecting a good check soon?” you smiled through your teasing question as your arms opened up, needing him to lay on top of you to feel his warmth. “mhm, we’ll be getting you a yacht for the summer in no time, baby.”

having found his way into your arms, jay wasted no time in placing his warm hands underneath the sweater to hold onto your waist. his face snuggling into your neck, soft giggles could be heard from you as his facial hair tickled the sensitive skin causing him to chuckle in return. with your fingers twirling the ends of his hair, “you should keep cutting your hair like this. .” a whisper broke through. humming against your neck, “yeah? why’s that?” his tender voice being reserved just for you, he leaned his head back just enough to look at your face. his eyes gently tracing the features your face holds, features he’s grown to love oh so dearly. from the little crinkles of your eyes when you smile to the way your nose twitches when he can’t resist placing a kiss on it. “you have little curls in the front when you keep it this length, i like em’.”

and with that reasoning alone, he knew he would keep his hair like this forever. “i’ll do it just for you.” planting a kiss to your jaw led to many aggressive kisses being planted everywhere. people called it cuteness aggression, you were a victim of this every day, not that you minded. tugging on his hair just hard enough eventually made him stop, “you have a real problem with that, mister.” though the big dopey smile on your face gave away your true intention, “have no clue what you’re talking bout’.” he would grin right back at you. scratching the facial hair on his cheeks, you looked up at him with the biggest eyes. deciding to place one more tiny kiss on your lips, he leaned down only to linger a few moments more. “you’re going to be the death of me someday, toots.” “hoping it’s soon, your christmas album money is looking real good right now.” giggling together once more, it was always a comfort being yours.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ do not steal or plagiarize any work belonging to kkentobox !

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ NEED TO LISTEN TO ME — price is disappointed in you and your other three lovers, and finds that some 'training' is in order

read on ao3.

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, poly tf141, ANGRY sex, mean dom price, angst, degradation, minor dom/sub, light humiliation, orgasm denial, dacryphilia, minor spit play, minor blood play (not really), rough sex, price orders EVERYONE around, price-centred, whiny johnny and gaz agenda

// NSFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT //

You weren't scared of many things at this point in your life.

Being a signal officer for the military certainly aided that statement, but it was more the fact that you had four guard dogs in the form of the most seasoned special forces operatives you've ever known. Four very large, very scary men that you'd somehow found yourself lucky enough to get to call your partners.

Both on, and off, the field.

That being said, there was one thing you were terrified of. Like, to your bones, petrified.

And that thing had a name.

John Price.

He was formally the captain of your force for a reason, but he was also informally the captain of your relationship, as well. The one you all looked to in the most difficult of moments, the one that held reason and guidance above all.

It's been that way since the five of you met, and remains the same to this day.

Nonetheless.

It was a known fact between you, Soap, Ghost and Gaz that none of you liked seeing the man mad. You four could count on one hand the amount of times you'd witnessed it, all of which having been directed at either his superiors or an enemy.

But. Right now, in this office, seated on the small couch between your three lovers?

Yeah. You don't fear many things.

But John Price's disappointment is quite easily in your top three, and this situation only cements it.

"He's probably ordering our caskets," Gaz murmurs wistfully, eyes wide as he stares at his foot, tap-tap-tapping against the wooden floor. It's a nervous tic that gives him away too easily, but even with your hand on his knee, it doesn't seem able to quit.

You exhale a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut. "I hope he gets me a cute one," you mumble back, tone matching the resignation that clouds your captain's office.

"You four. My office."

Those were the only words Price had spoken to you guys, before marching off to a meeting with Laswell.

To say that you and your lovers were mortified was the biggest understatement of the century.

Even Ghost, sat perfectly still, expression perfectly neutral beneath his mask, oozes trepidation like it's the carbon dioxide he exudes with every breath.

"I know 'm 'n tha military, but I still don't wanna die, ya know?" Soap whines, his head flung back and blue eyes glued to the roof as his hands shake in his lap.

You guys must look like unruly students sat outside of your principal's office to any onlookers, and it should be embarrassing.

It would be, if you could feel anything but mortal peril.

You're about to quip a reply to Soap, when the door clicks open, and the three of you sit ramrod straight, Ghost not moving from his already perfect posture.

Price steps in, the door shutting closed behind him.

The silence is a tangible force, and your mouth is so dry, you'd think you were in a desert, not in your lover's office.

His footfalls echo around the modest space, before he leans against his wooden desk, folding his arms over his chest, before directing his furious gaze to you four.

"When I give orders," he starts, and oh god, his tone, it's so unbelievably firm, "I expect my team to follow them."

There's no response, except for the overwhelming quiet coming from the usually passionate and comforting presence that underlies your entire dynamic.

Price clears his throat, meeting all of your eyes one by one. You wonder if you can see the glassiness of yours, the barely restrained tears.

"So why," he begins, before swallowing once more, determination settling in, "Did all four of my teammates rush into an unstable building after being ordered to keep out?"

You know it's not just the anger of a captain's orders being refused.

It's the anger of a lover having to watch all four of his partner's risk their death, while he can do nothing but watch from the scope of a sniper rifle.

The clock on the wall above the door ticks, and none of you make a sound.

Price grabs a pack of cigars from his pocket, quickly sliding one out, placing it between his lips, and shoving the pack back into his slacks. He then pulls out a lighter from his back pocket, lighting the tobacco, before exhaling his first breath of smoke.

In any other situation, you or Gaz would be chastising him, telling him to stop smoking, or to at least do it outside.

Neither of you say a word.

Rubbing at the furrow between his brows, Price then drifts his eyes to Ghost, the only one who hasn't said a word since the mission.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" Price says on a deep exhale, shaking his head. There's hurt there, genuine pain, and your heart stutters in your chest at the sight. "You're my lieutenant, Simon. I thought you'd at least 'ave the brains to listen to me when I make an order."

Ghost's hand tightens where it sit on his cargos, and even with his mask on, you can tell that a disgruntled frown lays beneath it.

"And you, Soap," he looks at the man to your right, now, and you can physically see him deflate at the disappointment in his captain's eyes. "Disrespecting authority is cute 'nd all, until it's me, mate."

Those words feel like a physical wound, even to you, and judging my Soap's crestfallen expression, for him, it must hurt tenfold.

And, then, it's your turn.

His mouth is set in a grim line, and you hope that he can see the regret, the genuine sorrow you feel at disappointing and -- and scaring your captain. Your lover.

"What were you thinking?" He asks, and your mouth wants to open, but it's as if there's an invisible force pinning it shut. "You weren't even supposed to step foot on enemy grounds, and you knew that."

And it's true. Your role is mainly with communications and technical supplies, not actual combat. You were trained, yes, but it has never been your role.

But you'd seen Soap rush in, Ghost trailing after him, yelling, and then Gaz not long after, and it was like your mind shut out any rational lines of thinking. There was no rationale when it came to your partners.

That was a flaw. A genuine character fault, and Price was cementing that fact in this very room.

"Kyle," Price runs his hand down his face, cigar in between his middle and index fingers, "Kyle."

The pain, regret, the melancholy -- it's its own element in this room, its own being, and it feels as if it's choking you from the inside out. Like a gas leak, or a grenade stuck in your throat, about to go off.

Ghost, shockingly, is the first to speak.

"Captain," he grits out. Not 'old man'. Not 'love'.

Captain.

"We're aware of our... misgivings," he states, the words coming off of his tongue like hot coals he needs to rid off, lest his entire mouth burns.

Price nods, slowly, eyes narrowing at Ghost. It hits you, then, how your lover's just dug all of your graves in one sentence. Gaz seems to realise, too, his eyes going wide, exhaling a low, short breath in surprise.

"Sweetheart," he quips, standing up in the transition of one moment to the next, eyes snapping to your glassy ones. The endearment holds no warmth to it, for the first time, and your heart shatters where it beats in your chest, shards of glass embedding into the muscle surround it. "Get on the desk."

He says the words, and in the next movement, sweeps his arm over his desk, causing all of his papers, his pens, his folders, to go careening to the floor.

Soap mutters a curse under his breath, and Gaz winces.

On shaky legs, you stand, walking the short distance to the wooden surface and sitting on it with short pants of breath.

His large hand grips your chin in a tight grasp, tilting your head back and forcing the eye contact between you both.

He leans in, mouth mere millimetres away from your own, before speaking. You can taste the tobacco as he does. "I'm gonna let every single one of my subordinates fuck your disobedient cunt, and it's not gonna get any cum. Do you understand that order, sweetheart?"

It's cruel. Patronising, and so unbearably condescending, but you nod, a tear finally leaking down your cheek.

With a calloused thumb, he wipes it away in one stroke. "Save that for the actual punishment, operator."

And then, he steps back, and takes a seat in his chair, allowing him a full view of the other three still sat at the couch, and your position in his desk.

"This is a lesson on following your captain's orders," Price barks his order, like most other men of his rank would. It's a stone cold contrast to the gentle, comforting way he usual spoke to the four of you. His voice, now, holds no love, no underlying adoration lacing through his words. "You will follow every command I give you, and hopefully, this training will carry onto our future missions."

You're all aware that if it gets too much, one of you will utter the safeword you're all aware of -- the weight of it almost embedded into your beings.

Price knows it, too. And no matter how angry he is, he'll always put you all first, listen to you when you genuinely need to stop.

The feeling in the room has shifted from one of heavy disappointment, to an electrifying anger that has liquid heat melting to your core.

"Simon," Price snaps his fingers, and it's almost as if you're in a parallel universe, because the large man immediately stands. "Lay 'er down on the desk."

Ghost only needs to take two steps from the couch before he's standing in front of you, hand fisting into your hair, before somewhat gently pushing you to lay flat against the smooth surface. Your breathing is harsh, your chest moving in quick rises.

"Strip 'er down," Price orders, voice gravelly as he takes another deep inhale of his cigar, folding his leg so his left ankle rests on his right knee, legs spread wide. He fills out the chair with his frame, and it makes you shiver as Ghost gets to work peeling your clothes off of you.

When your heated skin feels the kiss of the cool air, you let out a haggard breath, head falling back to hit the wood as you clench your eyes shut.

Ghost goes to spread your thighs, before pausing, awaiting Price's directions like a dutiful dog.

You never thought you'd see the day.

"She's wet enough," Price shrugs, taking another drag of his cigar. "Fuck 'er."

Oh, fuck.

He wasn't lying, you were soaking, something about the fear unknowingly having your inner thighs sticky and core aching to be filled.

But... not getting prepped? At all?

Ghost makes a surprised grunt of a noise, pausing for a moment, before recollecting his senses and unbuckling his pants.

Oh. Fuck.

He's really, properly following Price's directions, like the man had demanded. The guilt was eating all of you alive, and that festered in Simon's actions.

His deep brown eyes flick to yours, before he unzips his fly with one hand, gaze not moving from yours. There's slight apology in them, only a hint, before he leans down to spit on your cunt.

You inhale a sharp breath at the act, squeezing your eyes shut as his dick presses against your heat, rubbing against it slightly.

Then, he pushes in -- it makes you cry out, breath hitching as the tip enters. It's a tight fit, but he continues to push in, and it's almost as if you can feel the intrusion, the pressure in your chest.

"So you can follow orders, huh?" Price quips, almost nastily, and it has you shuddering as Ghost's hips finally flush against your own. You don't think you've ever taken any of them without foreplay, and it's a special form of torture. The pressure is almost too much, his cock filling you up so much.

Simon's head hangs between his shoulders, muscles tense as he stares down at you, the epitome of self-restraint.

He always was the most controlling one, the most calculating.

Not today, however.

That title easily belongs to Price, who merely relaxes further into his seat, as if he wasn't just mere feet away from the two of you.

"I said fuck her, Riley. Not stand there and keep it warm."

He's so fucking. He's fucking cruel about this, fully willing and wanting to make this hurt. It's so completely unlike the man you love, and it's psychologically damning in a way nothing else could be.

But, like directed, Simon fucks you.

He stops trying to be kind about it, stops wallowing in guilt. It's rough, forceful, urgent, unlike the way he usually liked to savour your pleasure, your pain. He usually delighted in the smooth, deep strokes, prolonging the passionate act almost vindictively.

No. Now, it's quick, punishing thrusts, and your head falls back and little moans escape your throat.

It's like you've both forgotten that Soap and Gaz sit on the couch, watching, waiting. Price has likely made it that way on purpose, to make them envy the attention you and Ghost are getting.

"Fuck," you moan, tits bouncing as Simon continues to fuck you relentlessly, harsh in his movements.

"Does he feel good?" Price is standing, and when you open glassy eyes, it's to see his face looking down at you. If you had the mind to, you'd flinch under his criticizing expression. "Answer me."

You nod, shakily, and when his brows narrow, you rush out a verbal response. "Yes, yes, he does!"

Price hums a noncommittal sound, before his hand slides down your stomach, leaving your hairs to stand on end, before his fingers reach your clit. In tight circles, he has you on the edge almost immediately, and you cry out.

"Gonna fuckin' cum," Ghost grunts, voice low as his eyes clench tight.

"Aww, you two close?" Your captain's voice is gruff, all too condescending, and just before you can find your release, his hand leaves your clit, and wraps around Ghost's neck. He leans into his ear, and his whisper is loud enough for everyone to hear. "Pull out."

Simon makes a noise suspiciously close to a whimper, and it's so unlike him that it has your eyes opening wide, before he does just as Price ordered.

He pulls out.

"Seriously?" You groan, filter eviscerated like your high was. You lean up, using your elbows for leverage.

Price raises one brow, before scratching at his beard almost absent-mindedly. "Got a complaint, sergeant?"

You shake your head, lightning quick, like a puppet on a string.

That's what you were right now -- what all of you were. Just puppets in whatever acts Price wanted to see you all star in.

It's exhilarating in the worst of ways.

"Soap, Gaz," Price snaps once more, and Ghost is nothing more than a neglected mutt. Which, really, is almost funny considering the amount of times the man teases you, Soap and Gaz about such a comment. You couldn't count the amount of times he's compare you three to 'needy puppies'.

Now, he was nothing more than that, and you wish you could enjoy that fact more.

The two men adhere to the command, radiating nervous energy as they stand to attention, not unlike they would if they were in a standard military unit.

"Gaz, take her mouth," Price demands, before his hand buries in the short hair near the nape of Soap's head with a mean grip, meant to hurt. Soap barely hides a whine as Price tugs him, forcing the man to his knees as if he's nothing more than the mutt Ghost usually refers to him as. "You, lick 'er clean."

You realise, then, what exactly this is.

It's truly a display of power. Of control. Because you four took that away from him on the field, unrightfully so. There truly is thought behind his anger, his pain.

It only makes the ache in your heart burn, makes it bruise and bleed where the shattered pieces cut and embed into the innerworkings of your body.

This 'training' won't make up for what you four pulled. Not in the slightest.

But it's something to let John get some of his emotions out, in a somewhat healthier way than you lot usually resorted to.

You'd always offer your support, offer yourself, and he knows that.

He's deliberately taking away that option for you, taking control to comfort the side of him that is so deeply ingrained, so deeply relied on for him to live.

You love him. So effortlessly.

Those words remain accurate, even as Johnny first licks over your wet pussy, and Kyle's dick bumps against your lips.

Opening your mouth without a thought, Kyle's tip slips in, his pre-cum salty on your tongue as you flatten your tongue against it. Johnny's as enthusiastic as ever, maybe even more than usual, as he delegates all of his attention to your aching warmth.

John's grip doesn't release from Johnny's hair, shoving his closer against you, and the sight is so hot that you wish you could fully, properly enjoy it.

Another time, when you're all in better spots, happy and unapologetic, you'll ask them to re-enact the scene.

Johnny moans against your pussy, hands coming up to grip at your bare thighs, and you just know there'll be finger-shaped bruises come tomorrow morning. He's always been unaware of his strength, not understanding the proper damage he can inflict, especially in the bedroom. It's attractive as all hell.

"Yeah? She taste good, hm?" John nearly snarls, and you let out a drawn out moan at the pleasure and words. The sound is muffled by Kyle pushing in deeper, having you almost gagging on his length.

Your eyes flutter shut at the onslaught of feelings, but even with no sight, you can feel Simon's eyes on you like a physical weight.

You know what position he's in, without having to look. Leaning against the wall with a furious expression, large arms folded over his bulky chest. Maybe he's pulled off his mask, maybe it's just been hooked over his crooked nose.

"Fuck, cap," Kyle groans, bucking into your throat. "So fuckin' good--"

Johnny muffles a whine as his efforts nearly double, and you swear spots colour the darkness of your vision. You're already there, and it's not like you can say anything, with Kyle abusing your mouth like this.

"She's close, ain't she, Johnny? Feel her clenchin' on your tongue?" John taunts, and you can feel Johnny nod against your core, nose brushing your clit as he does.

John huffs a cruel laugh, before he abruptly pulls Johnny away by the scruff of his neck. You can't help by buck up, searching for touch, but none comes.

"Kyle," John's tone is one requiring no resistance, and with a shaky exhale, Kyle pulls out of your mouth, a string of spit clinging to his dick, before snapping and leaving your cheek covered with a line of it.

You shakily open your eyes, your pussy begging for a release, knowing that you won't get one. Not yet.

"You make a mess, you clean it up," John says.

So, Kyle leans down, his tongue licking over the spit trail, and really it should be disgusting.

Instead, it only makes you wetter.

Your thighs incessantly shake, no hint of stopping as your body aches. The emotional turmoil, mixed with the physical kind -- it's a concoction for torture.

With half-lidded eyes, you watch as John forces Johnny's head in between your breasts, pressing his face into them. It must be almost suffocating, but Johnny manages to whine as you feel John's hand wrap around Johnny's dick, positioning it against your twitching hole.

"Rut into her," John orders, before stepping back.

Johnny does just that -- he thrusts in, bottoming out with one push. Your moan sounds too alike to a squeal at the stretch, the sudden intrusion. Your arms wrap around his back, nails scratching lines down Johnny's back as he thrusts into you almost manically. You're sure that you're drawing blood, but it only seems to encourage the man rutting into you further, his thrusts urgent and feral.

"Jesus christ," someone -- you're sure it's Kyle -- murmurs, and you suddenly want to know what you must look like from a spectator. Ruined, probably.

Your breaths are harried as you feel yourself getting close once more, tears burning at the corner of your vision at the pure need coursing through your veins.

"Please," you whimper, squeezing like a vice around Johnny's dick. "Please, oh god."

"Now you want me to make decisions? Let you two cum?" There's a hand in your hair, and in any other situation, it'd be calming.

Currently, it feels like a thinly veiled threat.

"Please, John, 'm so sorry, please," you beg, eyes blurry as you look up into the man's stormy blue eyes.

Usually, they're comparable to a calm ocean, the beach mid-summer.

Now, they're akin to the darkest of storms, the ones sailors whisper about, the ones that haunt them while they're asleep at sea. Ones that cause shipwrecks to wash up on shores, ones that cause stories to be passed between campers on the scariest of nights.

"Now you're sorry, sweetheart?" And, oh, there's a sliver of the warmth you've come to crave, and it almost has you melting where you lay.

You're so close, you can taste it on your tongue, and your moans get louder, needier, more frantic --

"Stop, Johnny."

Tears fall, then. Hot and heavy down your cheeks, leaving sticky tracks in their wake. Hiccups fall from your lips as you sob from the deprevation.

Johnny whines, head drooped low as he stops, and you can feel him pulse inside of you, both of you at your wits' end.

"You follow orders so well in this room, don't you?" John says. The voice of a captain.

It's almost your last straw. The devastation is too great, the mix of physical and emotion stress weighing on you heavily.

"'M so sorry, shoulda listened," you cry, body trembling.

"John, please, we're sorry," Kyle insists, a furrow between his dark brows where he takes a step closer to you and Johnny.

Simon, although silent, is also closer to you both now than he had been, no longer stood against the wall.

Your boys -- they're so inherently protective, and it's such a nice feeling. No matter how guilty they feel, how genuinely sorry, they can't stand to see you or Johnny so weak, so vulnerable.

Love. You love them, in a way words can never describe.

John exhales. A deep, thoughtful one.

"We're talking about this, after we're all cleaned up," he says. It's the first hint of himself that you've heard tonight, and the relief is like an intoxicating drug.

It's like even the room itself takes a deep breath, dispelling of some of the tension lining every inch of it.

"Off 'er," John snaps his fingers, and Johnny pulls out with a small whimper, head still hung low.

Grabbing your hips, John flips you over, making you bend so your face is to the desk and your ass is in the air. His large hand presses against your lower back, bending you into an arch.

He slides in, and it's an easy entry. You don't think you've been more wet in your life, and gods, you need it.

Setting a ruthless pace immediately, every thrust forces a whimper, a moan, a whine out of your mouth, eyes dazed as your cheek presses against the wood. His hand fists into your hair, forcing your head to face the three men stood side by side, watching you both with a flurry of emotions behind heavy stares.

"Feel so fuckin' good, christ," John seethes, his grip tightening in your hair, causing your moan to become louder as it leaves your lips.

It isn't long before you're at that cliff once more, begging for a final push, just so you can reach that finish you ache for.

"Gonna, fuck, please, let me cum, John, I love you, I'm so sorry," your words aren't fully your own, and they come out in a desperate plea.

"Yeah? My girl gonna cum for me? Needy slut."

Those words are your undoing, your nirvana.

You cum, body strung tight as tears fall down your cheeks once more, your vision nearly blacking out with the strength of your orgasm. It's almost painful, the stimulation altogether too much, and not enough.

John finishes not long after, his cum filling you up with a loud groan from him.

He releases his fist in your hair, and you head falls to the desk, body slumping with the final release of pleasure.

Stroking a smoothing hand down your back, he pulls out, and you can feel his seed leaking down your thighs. You must be a sight -- all worn out and dripping with the white liquid.

"We don't getta cum?" Johnny whines, and you can hear the roll of Simon's eyes.

There's a hand stroking stray hairs off of your face, and from the texture and size of the limb you can tell it's Kyle.

"You won't get to tomorrow, either, if you keep tha' up," Price mutters, and you let out a delusional giggle at his words. You're cum-drunk, almost, from how drawn out your orgasm had been.

"We really are sorry, Cap," Kyle murmurs genuinely, and the hurt is a sharp barb on his tongue. "You know we love you, didn't mean to hurt you."

John releases a long, worn-out breath. "I know that. I do. But you're a bunch of reckless muppets 'nd you fuckin' went too far today. I'm your captain, lover or not."

"We'll talk it over later," Simon states, and you can't help but agree with the sentiment.

You will. And it'll be a painful conversation, but one that you all owe to your captain.

Because, at the end of the day, you four would do anything for the man that you love. That includes the tough words, the difficult exchanges.

John presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, and with complete certainty, you're sure that you're all going to be okay.

a/n. the day that i stop loving poly 141 is the day that i die. price needs all the love omg this one kinda hurt to write cause oof angst but hopefully it was an enjoyable read!!!! thank you to everyone who comments on my fics, your notes etc make me do a lil happy dance ily all!!!!!!!!!!!!

[nanivinsmoke]

❥ keep on comin’ back

babydaddy!toji x fem!reader

the reason he keeps on comin back.

tags: dilf toji, explicit language, dirty talking, creaming, squirting, mentions of breeding, missionary, riding, creampie, nipple play, spanking, etc.

note: shoutout to oomf who said toji keeps coming back to me, you the inspo for this.

“What are you doing here? It’s not my week—hi megs, mimi!” you diverted your attention from your baby daddy to your adopted son and your daughter, hugging their small bodies; before letting them inside of your house.

Turning back around to block him from getting in, you bring up your question again. “What are you doing here? Don’t think you’re getting any, last time was a mistake.”

“Last time we almost gave those two another sibling and I didn’t hear you complaining when you were screaming my name and scratching my back up, while i made you cum back to back.” You bit your lip as he helped you remember the last time he unexpectedly came over, which led to you having multiple mind blowing orgasms that night; and a pregnancy scare.

“well that’s never gonna happen again. now are you gonna answer me?” you stared at his green eyes, arms folded over one another—unconsciously pushing your boobs up through your black beater.

“megumi’s supposed to be having a sleepover with his best friend, yuuji, at our place, but the plumbing’s backed up for like a good week. so, he asked could we do it at mommy’s house. plus, mimi said she missed her mommy.” you cooed and looked back at your daughter and step-son, watching them play with one another.

and before you could open your mouth up to ask a follow up question, toji beat you to the punch.

“tried to find somewhere else for me to go. but, there wasn’t any hotels available. and i think it would be great for the kids to have both parents under one roof. what do ya think?” he asked and you sighed, before moving aside to let him in.

“bags are in the truck,” he smiled and kissed your cheek, turning on his heel to grab their things from his car.

being in an on again and off again relationship with each other was took a toll on you both, but it was also tough for the kids. they couldn’t understand why mommy and daddy aren’t together, however it was moments like this they were happy to have. and deep down inside, you both felt the same.

Toji returned with their bags and made his way up their stairs to the kids room, and the guest bedroom, with mimi hot on his tail. While the two of them got situated upstairs, megumi followed you into the kitchen to help you with tonight’s meal. You giggled as you watched him put on his mini apron before stepping onto his stool to watch you clean some meat for dinner.

Megumi watched with an intent stare as you moved with ease, learning from you while you cooked. “mommy? do you love dad?”

his question caught you by surprise and you nearly sliced your finger off. “yes, but not as much as i love you,” he giggled when you ruffled his raven locks before focusing back on the meal. although megumi’s mom died when he was a baby, you still loved him like he was your own. and truth be told, you really did love toji; no matter how many times he annoyed you.

“so, then why aren’t you guys married? my friend yuuji said that his dad said if two people love each, they should marry each other. plus, i saw this shiny ring in dad’s room at the other house—“

you eyes were wide. a fucking ring? there’s no way—maybe he’s got someone else in mind…right?

“mm…i don’t know. hey, you wanna have that sleepover still? go get the house phone and I’ll call yuuji’s dad.” you nervously laughed and watched him leave, before sighing out.

there’s no way, right?

—

the next couple of hours flew by, your mind was practically a blur—still caught up on the fact that toji has a ring and that he could possibly propose to you.

even though you guys broke up on good terms, parts of you missed him. real bad. you missed having him in your arms at night. missed his scent being all over you. missed him being with you and the kids. missed having him so deep inside of you almost every night.

and the reason the two of you broke up was because of him. he pushed you away, pushed you away from his heart.

yuuji came over and was having a ball with your kids, before the three of them crashed for the night, finally allowing you to have some time for yourself. you lounged on your plush brown couch, glass of wine in your hand as you caught up with one of your favorite shows, when toji’s deep voice echoed through your ears.

“knew I would find you here. what are ya watching?”

“uhh supernatural….toji can i ask you a question?”

“ya just did,” he chuckled and ducked when you hit him in the head with a throw pillow. “you know what i meant.” he nodded and you sipped some more of your wine before turning to look at him, your heart beating out of your chest; while you felt a heartbeat elsewhere.

“the ring you have, is that for me?” there was pause and his eyes caught yours. and before he could open his mouth, you spoke once more.

“meg’s told me you had it. do you really wanna marry me? do you think—“ your nervous rambling was caught off by his lips. the scar on his upper lip rubbing smoothly against yours, making you moan out. and when he pulled away, you whimpered; yearning for more.

“gotta teach him to keep secrets. damn big mouth.” he teased megumi and you gave him a slight kick, giggling at him, before he pulled you onto his lap—your plush thighs melting against his waist.

“but, yeah. ‘m gonna marry you. make you mine and pump you full of my babies,” his last comment sent shivers up your spine and you could feel your panties moisten with arousal. the tension was overwhelming and you couldn’t take it anymore. you crawled off his lap and swiftly pulled his dark grey sweatpants down to his knees, making his fat cock spring to life; before you immediately wrapped your plump lips around his head.

toji sucked in some air and tangled his thick fingers in your hair, pulling it while you worked your way down his dick. his cock was coated with your salvia, dripping down from his angry red tip—to the top of his balls, before you scooped it up and rubbed it all over him.

he was in pure bliss. basking in the sheer pleasure you were giving him. his jaw clenching as you made a sloppy messy on him, trying to suppress the moans that wanted to slip; until you swirled against his frenulum & teased his tip, making him loudly groan out.

you released him with a ‘pop’ sound echoing, your small hands jerking him off while you maintained eye contact with him, “shhh don’t wanna wake them up. now do we?” the look on his face sent a jolt of electricity up your spine and to your aching cunt, causing a switch to flip inside of you.

he watched you quickly pull your panties down, your slick sticking to the fabric, webs of your arousal following; before you squatted down onto his lap once more. “need you inside. need you to cum deep inside of me.”

you whined when you pushed him in, walls immediately stretching out and wrapping around him. this is what he missed. this is why he kept coming back…..well, one of the reasons.

his hands met your hips and helped guide you up and down on his dick, tip pressing into your cervix every once and a while. it didn’t take long for the moans to flow out freely from your mouth as you continued to bounce, stuffing you. and soon, you became even more gushy, cunt squelching while cream started form around his base—sticking to your skin while you moved.

“fuck you’re so tight. missed this pussy,” his hands collide with your ass, the fat rippling from the impact. he gripped the globes of your ass, loving the soft fat, before resting his hands on one of your cheeks.

everything about this felt sooo good. the noises you created and the touches he was giving you, was sheer bliss and you could feel an orgasm approaching. toji could feel you clenching down on him repeatedly and he groaned at the sensation. with his free hand he pulled the sleeves to your beater down—pushing it down a little—before putting one of your plump mounds into his mouth.

the warm, wet feeling of his mouth made you throw your head back; still enduring the workout of bouncing on his fat cock.

he didn’t know how he was able to last this long inside of you, especially with how long it’s been since the last time and the unbelievable head you gave him. but, he was nearing his end too.

you could feel his hands move to your waist, before your back met the soft plushness of the couch and your legs were planted at his sides. now, his cock was nestled deep inside of your tummy, hitting your spot each time he thrusted.

toji reached underneath your thighs and pulled out your wet sticky underwear, putting it into your mouth to muffle the lewd noises that left your lips. your eyes was rolling back into your head as he fucked an orgasm out of you. well, that is until he pulled you by your hair; forcing you to watch him fuck everything out of you.

“look at the mess yer makin—shit! cum for me mamas”

oh the mess you made.

specks of white blurred your vision as you stomach caved in and a stream of clear fluid splashed out, drenching his black t-shirt and the cushions underneath. you had reached nirvana, but the pleasure didn’t stop there.

toji’s grip on your hair tightened while he pounded your cunt silly—splitting you open, pumping thick white ropes of his seed inside of you.

unable to formulate any words, he just smashed his lips onto yours; hands around your neck as the two of you shared the best orgasms of your lives.

this was it. this is exactly what you wanted. what he needed. why he kept coming back.

he sat back, catching his breath while you started to come back to reality, staring at you with pure love. “guess we gotta order a new crib. hm?”

[always-just-red]

Merry Christmas, guys!!! Ok, so this is a day early, but I wanted to say thanks to you all with a feel-good follow-up to my Game Night fic! So, here: a Christmas Eve sleepover with the boys, and they’re on their VERY best behaviour this time, I promise 😌

The Night Before Christmas

L&DS Boys X Reader

(Recommended to read this fic first, if you haven't already!)

Summary: It’s time to get the gang back together!!!

Genre: Fluff + humour

Warnings/Additional Tags: gn!reader, kinda poly? but mostly platonic, a lil bit of wholesome intimacy, one particularly suggestive joke from Sylus (he can’t help himself), also probably needs another proofread but my eyes are tired 💀

| Word count: 4.8k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Right! Let’s try this again.”

You glance around your living room with your hands on your hips, channelling your inner Captain Jenna as you fight to suppress flashbacks that verge on traumatic.

Some of this is exactly the same as last time. Sylus is sprawled in the same spot on your couch, looking inordinately pleased with himself for someone who has only just arrived. The very image of smugness; you immediately suspect that something is horribly wrong, or on track to go horribly wrong. You glance to the other couch, where Xavier and Rafayel sit, equally braced for your presentation. Neither one has been teleported to the roof of your building.

Sylus is reading your relief, and he gives you an exclusive smile, as if to say: yet.

Try not to think about it.

You stand by a large drawing pad— currently flipped closed to create a suspense that only Xavier has bought into. He gives you an eager nod, the blue of his eyes warm and encouraging.

The faces around you haven’t changed, but your little apartment has. Strings of twinkling lights run around your walls, casting faint, festive glows. There’s frost on your windows. Littered everywhere are ornaments: small, glittery birds and wintery creatures. Lots of snowman plushies, courtesy of a few, dedicated arcade expeditions with your favourite doctor.

New season, new start.

“We all remember how this went last time,” you push on finally. “Mistakes were made. Shit happened. Whatever— we’re not gonna dwell on it.”

Sylus lifts his hand. “I, for one, would enjoy a reminder of said mistakes.”

“Motion denied,” you dismiss with a grin and a customer-service enthusiasm that screams: don’t fuck with me right now. Sylus’s eyes sparkle, like embers anxious to become something brighter— more destructive. Don’t think about it. “It wasn’t my fault. You outnumbered me four-to-one that night, which is why my first order of business today is to appoint a co-host.”

Rafayel’s hand shoots into the air. You look at him incredulously. Zayne is stood beside you, his arms folded, and everyone else in the room has connected those particular dots.

“It’s Zayne, Rafayel,” you sigh. 

“What?!” He sits up straighter. “Why him?! What are his qualifications, huh? His credentials?”

“I’ve never set the kitchen on fire,” Zayne says.

The artist scoffs, adds under his breath: “Turned it into an ice rink, though.”

There’s a chuckle from Sylus, and a part of you feels bad, pitting Zayne against the others like this. But he’s not alone. He has you, just you, so you should probably do something. “That actually brings me really nicely to my next point, Raf, thank you.”

Unexpected praise. Rafayel stutters, a faint blush to his cheeks, and you take full advantage of having staggered him. “Zayne, do you wanna…?”

“Of course.” The dark-haired man adjusts his glasses, then addresses the rest of the room. “In the interest of everyone’s safety, we have devised a few rules to be adhered to for the rest of the evening. These will be enforced by a point system, which we will record… here.”

He flips the drawing pad open, and a blank table fills the top half of the page. Each quarter has been assigned a name. “Basically—” you gesture to it— “three strikes and you’re out.”

None of your guests look perturbed by this.

“The first rule is simple,” Zayne explains, pulling away a strip of paper from the bottom of the page, then reading the writing underneath: “No unauthorised use of Evols.”

Rafayel’s hand shoots up again. You tilt your head at it. “Yes, Raf?”

“Ok, so what if there’s a power-cut or something? Lights are out. Heating’s out. Big disaster, yeah? You’re saying I couldn’t—?” He clicks his fingers, spawning a small flame.

“We would use my Evol,” Xavier says with the gentle authority he uses to steer civilians away from a Wanderer incursion. “It’s safer.”

The flame is snuffed out. Rafayel huffs: “Don’t you use it to, like, kill things?”

“Yeah…” Xavier shrugs. “Bad things.”

“Second rule!” you chime.  

“Second rule,” Zayne echoes, peeling back the next strip of paper. There’s absolutely no showmanship, nor energy at all as he continues, “No unauthorised sarcasm.”

Another hand raises. “What would be authorised sarcasm?” Xavier asks, squinting as though he can’t quite figure it out on his own.

You purse your lips in thought. “If it makes me laugh?”

Rafayel is stroking his chin, his eyes narrowed, because he’s also thinking. “High risk, high reward,” he muses, and you shoot him a smile.

This is going better than you thought it would, actually. If you were to turn a few more pages of the drawing pad, you would see crude illustrations of the worst-case scenarios you’d sketched out for Zayne earlier. There’s one where Rafayel is trying to strangle Sylus with Christmas lights. There’s another where Zayne has turned you all into snowmen.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, though. The evening is young, and the snowman scenario is still very much on the table.

Culprit of about ninety percent of your nightmarish visions and drawings— Sylus has been unnervingly silent. You meet eyes with him, an inherent mistrust in your gaze. The success of this sweet, humble Christmas Eve hinges on you figuring out what he’s here for. His agenda. His ulterior motives.

What does he want from tonight? He smirks at you. You’re vaguely competent, and you can figure it out without him holding your hand, can’t you?

That reminds you of something. “Zayne.” You jostle your co-host by his arm. “Do the last rule!”

You’re excited about the last rule.

Zayne isn’t; he hesitates. “The last rule…” He rubs at the back of his neck. “It’s… it’s only applicable to you, Sylus.”

Sylus is now also excited about the last rule. You can tell from the way his lips part, for a second, like he wants to tell you just how flattered he is you spend so much of your time thinking about him.

You put Zayne out of his misery, tearing the final strip of paper away from the pad. The paper flutters to the ground like a very plain snowflake, and you wiggle your fingers, adorning the final rule with a touch of pizazz:

No smirking, sass, or general smugness.

A corner of Sylus’s mouth lifts. “Believe it or not, kitten, your little point system doesn’t scare me.”

You pick up the pen and score a mark under his name.

“Oh no,” he mutters lifelessly.

“Sarcasm!” Rafayel coughs.

You’re well ahead of him, already turning to make another mark. “Gods,” you hear Sylus grimace, not much more than a whisper, “you’re such a boy scout.”

There’s a snort from Rafayel. “Sorry, say that again? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of you totally getting kicked out of here.”

“Sarcasm,” Sylus says.

“Wait, I didn’t mean— no!”

You giggle as you issue Rafayel’s first strike, and he groans behind you, slumping down in his seat. When you turn back around, his face is buried in his hands.

Sylus is smirking again, but the expression drops the moment he senses your gaze. You both know what’s at stake here. Back in the N109 Zone, Luke and Kieran are lamenting the fact that you’ve stolen their leader— it’s not very Christmassy of you, after all. There were a lot of things they wanted to do with him. Snowball fights, presents, and a heist that required disguises: Santa and his two, hard-working elves. They already have the suit, custom-made for him.

So here is the big, bad boss of Onychinus, hiding in your apartment, and definitely not smirking.

You pop the lid back onto your pen, then post it into your pocket like you’re holstering an all-powerful weapon. That’s one point to you and Zayne, and zero points to Sylus, thank you very much.

…

“What are you doing?”

Sylus sighs, evading a furious lilac gaze while he focuses on the task at hand. Freshly escaped from you and the doctor’s terrifying lecture, he’s making the most of his liberty.

“What I am doing,” he mumbles, tying string around a sprig of mistletoe, “is between me and our charming host. Run along, little artist.” He tightens the knot. “This doesn’t concern you.”

Rafayel crosses his arms, his eyes dark. “You’re cheating.”

“Ha.” Sylus spares him a glance out of pity. “You’re jealous.”

“Am not.”

He definitely is, but Sylus doesn’t have time for this game. He can hear you in your bedroom, rooting around for the phone charger you’d vanished in search of. Your door isn’t closed, but it’s closed enough. You can’t see him. He can’t see you. What a perfect opportunity.

“Give it to me,” Rafayel says— an interruption that warrants a roll of the eyes.

“No.”

“Give it—“ the artist starts again, then makes a grab for the mistletoe. Now that’s jealousy. He could incinerate the plant with a click of his fingers, but no, he wants it. Covets it.

Sylus chuckles quietly, his arm stretching up: holding the mistletoe out of an ever-more desperate reach.

To Rafayel’s credit, he persists. He goes up on his toes, tugging at the older man’s sleeve to try and drag the mistletoe closer. The plant evaporates in a swirl of dark energy the second he succeeds. It materialises behind Sylus’s back, in his other hand, and Rafayel realises instantly. He tries to stretch his arms around him. To take it from him.

“Absolutely not!”

Sylus’s fingers are suddenly empty. Mistletoe-less. He turns reluctantly, still holding Rafayel back.

You stand at your wide-open door, one hand on your hips and the other clutching his confiscated item. You’re frowning. Tapping your foot. Your lips are pursed adorably.

“What a coincidence, kitten,” Sylus smiles, and behind him, Rafayel pokes his tongue out, overcome with nausea. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Clearly.” You jostle the mistletoe, looking… disappointed? Huh. ���Never thought I’d catch you indulging an old cliche.”

Sylus shrugs charmingly, like a cat performing a leisurely stretch after toppling a vase from a very high shelf.

“Give me the rest of it,” you command.

“Hmm?”

“The back-up mistletoe, Sy. I’m not an idiot.”

Sylus scoffs, but you do have him wrapped oh so prettily around your finger. He rolls his neck, stalling. If giving up were a slope, he would already be a heap at the bottom of it, but he doesn’t really mind. Three more sprigs of mistletoe appear from thin air, dropping into your open hands.

“Honestly, Sylus,” you groan, stepping past him. Then you thrust the plants to the artist’s chest. “Burn these, Raf.” You’re dusting your hands down as you walk away.

Sylus frowns. That’s neither ideal nor part of the plan.

Rafayel is looking at him, telling him with gloating silence that there’s no playing diplomat, here— no negotiating the return of the hostages. That bridge has been— rather fittingly— burned. The mistletoe turns slowly to ash: darkened by licks of flame that curl with the eager spite of their master’s lips.

It would be beautiful if it wasn’t so damned inconvenient. When the fire’s had its fun, one sprig of mistletoe remains, rich green and ivory— wholly untouched. You’re across the room, talking to Zayne, so Rafayel smirks in triumph. Tucks his prize into his pocket.

Sylus’s heart sinks with it, but he still smiles back.

…

Rafayel isn’t looking too good.

Well, the Rafayel is looking fine, but your Rafayel? Not so much. You steal a glance at the artist across the cluttered kitchen island; he’s sat, leaning, propped up on his elbows, his eyes glazed— he’s clearly away with the fishies. He catches you staring. Gives you a wink.

You glance down at the gingerbread man you’ve been decorating: the blue-pink of his iced eyes, and the mess of purple hair, at least three shades too dark. Oh, gods— probably a million shades too dark through the gaze of a Lemurian. At least the outfit is cute? You’ve recreated Rafayel’s signature cardigan. The plaid pattern isn’t quite straight, but that was a… deliberate choice. This is your interpretation of his cardigan, and you wanted it to reflect its owner. A little all over the place, but still, you love it. Even when it’s coming undone, it keeps you warm.

“Would you like to go next?”

Zayne is talking to you, smiling at you. He was the first to reveal his gingerbread creation: a miniature Xavier that was surprisingly true to life. Your hunting partner had almost glowed with delight, while you were dark with jealousy. The biscuit sits before you all, boasting details that could only be achieved with an exceedingly steady hand.

Worse: Rafayel’s gingerbread is next to it, stupidly, predictably perfect. It’s Zayne. It’s really Zayne, from the sweep of black hair to the hazel eyes; how on earth did he manage to make that colour? The tiny doctor is dressed in his lab coat, sporting his badge and a pocketful of even tinier pens and medical instruments. There’s… shading? Ugh, you can see the creases in the fabric.

“Umm… sure, I can go next,” you mumble.

It was just your luck, pulling Rafayel’s name out of that hat. Sheepishly, you move aside the cookbook you’d stood to guard your project from any prying eyes. Your gingerbread is nudged forwards.

“That’s me!” Rafayel exclaims.

“Yeah…” you confirm half-heartedly. “Sorry, I know it’s not great, but I—”

Lack the skill of a celebrity artist, or the steady hands of a cardiac surgeon? You have no idea which exact pool of self-pity your sentence was set on drowning within, but it doesn’t matter. Rafayel has plucked your gingerbread up for a closer look, and his smile is enormous. “This is amazing!”

“You don’t have to—”

“That’s my cardigan!” He’s crashing the pity party again. “And look at my eyes— the colours! This little guy is so handsome, yeah? You really did me justice, cutie. Look at him!”

He holds the gingerbread up to his face, trying to match its two-dimensional grin. He looks around for affirmation, and it’s just his luck, because is a single man at this table ever going to insult your hard work?

“The eyes are amazing,” Xavier enthuses. “Like the sky at sunset. Who knew my partner was so talented?”

“I did,” Rafayel chirps happily.

Xavier frowns. “No, it was rhetori— never mind.” He smiles at you. Rolls with it. “I knew too, by the way.”

“As did I,” Zayne adds.

Everyone looks at Sylus, who shrugs a shoulder and says, “It was up for debate.”

“Can we please move onto the next person?” you press. This is all too much attention. “Sylus, can you… please?”

He does like it when you beg, but he likes it even more when he can play knight in shining armour. “My pleasure, sweetie.”

For a man whose creative side is mostly indulged by vintage gun restorations, he reveals his gingerbread with a staggering amount of confidence. It’s placed at the centre of the kitchen island, where you all stare down at it. Its hair is snow-white, and its eyes: blood-red.

“That’s…” Zayne begins.

“That’s you, Sylus!” you take-over, voice shrill with betrayal. “You were supposed to say something if you picked yourself! And you— wait, what are…?” There are distinct lines over the gingerbread’s midriff. It dawns on you: “Are those abs?!”

Sylus shrugs again.

“They so are!” You snatch up the biscuit, standing to wave it in Sylus’s face like a crime-scene photo. “Where’s his shirt, huh?”

“He lost it.”

“Bullshit!” you snap. This gingerbread competition had come with its own set of rules, one of which was very clearly: “Nothing obscene! I said nothing obscene, Sylus!”  

He leans away from you with a tut. “It’s tasteful, sweetie. The artist will tell you.”

“The artist is staying out of this,” Rafayel murmurs, off to your side.

Sylus crosses his arms, regardless, as though his case has been made. You cross your arms too.

“Can I show you my gingerbread now?” Xavier asks, and his tone is deceivingly soft: a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back.

You release the tension in your body with a sigh, then set the gingerbread down so you can’t throw it at Sylus’s un-smug face (which he’s been very careful about.) “Of course, Xavier,” you smile, slinking back onto your stool. You can throw something at Sylus later. “Ooh, is it me? It has to be me, right?”

Xavier chuckles awkwardly. “It’s you. I don’t think it’s very good, though.”

“Show me!” you insist.

The final cookbook is removed, and Xavier unveils his hard work. You clamp a hand to your mouth.

You don’t have a single word for what you’re looking at— only laughter, and you can’t let yourself laugh, no matter what. If that gingerbread is you? Then it’s a you who’s been torn apart by Wanderers, at least seven consecutive times. Your face is a swirl of colours and features— you think Xavier must have tried to wipe it off to start again, more than once, but it hasn’t worked.

The gingerbread has been broken, too. Three of the four limbs, to be exact, and that you could forgive, but… did he have to use dark red icing to glue them back on? It drips out of the joins messily, almost making you wince.

Everyone is silent.

“A perfect likeness,” says Sylus.

You burst out laughing, and the moment you do, Rafayel’s right there with you. Even Sylus caves— it’s one of the most sincere laughs you’ve ever heard from him. There are tears in your eyes; you can’t help it. Zayne is the strongest of you, but even the tight line of his mouth quivers. He’s biting his lip.

But it’s fine. Xavier is laughing, too. “I said it wasn’t very good!”

“Xavier!” you wheeze. You can’t even look at him. Your stomach hurts. “What… what happened to me?!”

“What do you mean?” he practically giggles.

“What do I mean?” you repeat, and it tips you into another breathless bout of laughter. You go to point at the gingerbread— all the explanation you need— but it almost kills you. You really can’t breathe. After half a minute, you try again. “I look like I’ve been in an accident!”

“Here,” Rafayel grins, and he slides the Doctor Zayne gingerbread over to poor, suffering gingerbread you.

“Aww!” you smile, having finally caught your breath.

Wordlessly, Zayne retrieves his likeness— pulling it away from yours. You frown at him, as confused and wounded as Xavier apparently imagines you. “Even I have my limits,” the doctor shrugs.

That’s it. You’re gone again, your sides aching as your whole body shakes with laughter. It’s too much. Gods, it’s too much. You’re gonna need another minute.

…

“I can’t believe you made you.”

It’s been fifteen or so minutes, and you toy with Sylus’s gingerbread counterpart, pinching his hands between your thumbs and forefingers— making him walk (well, penguin waddle) across the kitchen island.

“Believe it, sweetie,” Sylus huffs with a smile.

“Is this really how you see yourself?”

Before you can walk the gingerbread any further, his creator plucks him up by his head, away from your reaching fingers. “It’s how I think you should see me,” he chuckles. He holds the gingerbread out to you. Wiggles it. “For your eyes only, kitten.”

“Except the other guys saw it—”

“Shhhh, shh shh!” In his haste to silence you, he almost pushes the gingerbread to your lips.

You glare at him. Complain from behind it: “Get your shirtless abs out of my face, Sylus.”

“Make me.”

You snatch the gingerbread, pinning it down on the counter. “Keep pushing your luck, Sy. Wanna see what’ll happen?”

He absolutely does, and his eyes glint with mirth as you reach for a near-empty bowl of crimson icing. You scrape some of it up with a discarded teaspoon, then let it drip generously over his gingerbread. It takes a few, long seconds to really cover him in it. To make him look as fatally tragic as gingerbread you.

“Here,” you say, dropping the spoon in a bowl with a satisfied clink. You hold out the gingerbread. “This’ll be you when I’m done with you.”

Sylus regards it for a moment, his eyebrow quirked. Then his eyes find your gingerbread likeness. “Want to see what you’ll look like when I’m done with you?”

His hand goes out for the bowl of red icing, except… it goes past the bowl of red icing, and lands on a tube of white icing instead. He holds it up with a smile.

“Inappropriate.”

The tube is swept out of his fingers, and he blinks at the empty space, legitimately surprised.

“It was snow, doctor,” he remarks bitterly, once he’s recovered from the second ambush of the evening. He glances over his shoulder. “From a snowball fight?”

“Sure it was,” Zayne mutters, already turning back to the bowl he’s washing in the sink.

Sylus is frowning, affronted, but the expression softens when you’re filling his gaze again. You: your hands on your mouth, so close to spilling laughter. “Oooooh,” you tease with a secretive sing-song voice, “you got in trouble!”

He wrinkles his nose like ‘trouble’ is an insult. It sets you off sniggering uncontrollably.

“What did I miss?”

It’s Xavier, back from the lounge.

“Nothing,” Sylus answers.

“He got in trouble!” you counteract with a not-at-all quiet whisper.  

You earn a glare from the criminal, and a little laugh from the hunter. “Third-strike trouble?” the latter enquires. He might have handcuffs on stand-by; it wouldn’t surprise you.

“Not yet,” you grin cheerfully.  

Zayne sets a plate on the drying rack. “Give it time.”

…

“I don’t think we have enough, sweetie,” Sylus quips, peeking over the stack of blankets you’ve piled high on his arms. 

What was it Rafayel said? High risk, high reward? You mercifully chuckle. Your arms are wrapped around three, plush cushions— the last of your sleepover supplies. Snacks? Are ready. Guests? Haven’t killed each-other yet. You toe open your bedroom door, shouldering the rest of the way through with your missing puzzle pieces of luxury.

“Oh, nice!” someone exclaims from the kitchen. Xavier is watching you, starry-eyed, and his cheeks are full; he’s midway through a cookie.

Sylus steps through the door behind you, issuing a faint noise of disgust. He sounds like he’s being attacked by a bug, so you turn around, ready to leap to the rescue. He’s stood within the door frame, eyes cast upwards to where a sprig of mistletoe hangs on the end of a string. It’s swaying gently; he must have caught his head on it. You frown, lips parted. He was with you the whole time you were looting your bedroom. When did he…? How did he…?

He looks down at you, the mistletoe still hovering above him. You raise an eyebrow, waiting for the inevitable joke, or the even more inevitable invitation. 

“I…’ he starts gingerly, “I didn’t…” 

Oh. He’s just as confused as you are, and it’s… really cute. He’s lost for words— the man who came here with not one, but four sprigs of mistletoe. The man who threatened your gingerbread with white icing. The man who’s spent the entire evening thinking about how he wants to be close to you.

Sylus laughs, but it’s full of nervousness. “It’s alright,” he says, “you don’t have to—”

You tilt him towards you, your hand on his shoulder and cushions around your feet. “Merry Christmas, Sy,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It’s warm on your lips.

His eyes flutter closed. “Merry Christmas,” he breathes, barely more than a whisper. 

You hum contentedly as you pull away from him. When his eyes reopen, they’re warm with a nostalgia you cannot explain, but you can feel, too— so inexplicably. His gaze is blood-red, but it makes you think of flowers. 

What a funny feeling. It strikes you a lot, nowadays, and not just with the man in front of you. 

Speaking of the others, you glance towards your lounge. Xavier is telling Zayne a story, and Rafayel is watching you from over the back of the sofa— turning away when you spot him. That’s one mystery solved. You collect the cushions from the floor, sparing Sylus a smile before you meander back to your party. The coffee table’s a banquet of sweet, sugary snacks, so you carefully skirt past it.

Xavier’s hands grab at air. You laugh and toss him a cushion. “Thanks,” he grins. 

“Here— your favourite.” Zayne is pointing at your freshly-filled mug, and you grin your own thank you as you settle down next to him. 

Sylus soon arrives too, handing out blankets, and for all the evening’s animosity, he gets a grateful smile for each. He sits down next to Xavier, and it’s odd, you know? You’ve slain Wanderers, saved lives with every person around you. You’ve seen them bleed and kill.

They’re all wrapping themselves up, like snuggly little Christmas presents. Xavier’s managed to collect another cushion— from Zayne, maybe?— and he’s practically building a fort on his side of the couch. Some of it infringes on Sylus’s space, and you notice him notice, but he doesn’t say a word. Oblivious, tucked under two blankets, Xavier’s already looking sleepy. 

Someone’s making less of an effort to get comfortable. On the other side of you, Rafayel sits, uncharacteristically quiet. He hasn’t met your eyes since you sat down. You remember him, watching you under the mistletoe from across the room, and the thought has you leaning in closer. 

“That was sweet of you,” you whisper, even though he disobeyed you. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugs.

But he does, so you kiss his cheek, ever so fondly, with that funny feeling in your chest again. It’s the first time, but it doesn’t strike you as such. Uncharted waters, a foreign land— when have I been here before?

Rafayel has relaxed: sunken deep into the sofa and the security of your touch. You smile, pulling his blanket up higher around him— tighter around him— until he’s as much of a cocoon as everyone else. His lips curve with a smile of surrender, ever-willingly captured. Silly fish. 

You draw away from him, readjusting in your seat until you’re cuddled up next to Zayne. You don’t see the wink Rafayel shoots Sylus, or the look of begrudging respect in the latter’s red eyes. 

“Are you comfortable?” Zayne asks, head angling towards yours. 

Co-host to co-host. “Yeah.” You snuggle closer to him. “This is kinda perfect, isn’t it?” He feels cold, despite his Sylus-issued blanket, so you lend him part of yours.

“No,” he confers softly, distractedly. 

“No?”

“No.” He gives you a look, and you know it as intimately as the chill of his hands and the warmth of his heart. His ‘I know something that you don’t’ look. Sure enough, he says: “I think it’s missing something.” 

On the other sofa, Xavier is beaming at you, having caught onto your conversation. It’s suspicious— harmless conspiracy, surprise-party sort of suspicious, but your pulse still picks up. 

“Close your eyes,” Zayne instructs. 

And you do, without question. Darkness, yes, but you’re under his care, aren’t you? There’s no anxiousness in your excitement, just trust for the man who was looking out for you long before he was your doctor. Your hands are over your eyes and you’re younger, again, playing hide-and-seek, again.

Zayne’s is a familiarity you can place. A nostalgia built on memories, not reveries.

Something icy touches your hand, then melts without any resistance. 

“Open,” Zayne prompts, leaning against you to stir you. 

Your apartment has changed again. The lights are all out, save for the fairy lights. The spectrum of colours flicker from the walls and the tree, catching on tiny, white specs in the air. Snowflakes are drifting down, impossibly. Falling, dancing— maybe a bit of both. You look up and some land on your face, cold with their kisses. You giggle in delight. 

Everyone’s gaze is on the ceiling: sapphire, emerald, amethyst, ruby. It ought to be dark. Instead, an entire night sky fills the space above you, scattered with thousands of stars. Every pinprick is deliberate. Meticulously placed. There are constellations— infinite patterns that transcend every life you might’ve lead, and every life you’ll ever lead (if you believe in that sort of thing.)

Xavier glances at you, and you forgo the spell of his masterpiece so that you can glance back. Snowflakes are in his hair, dusting him with sparkles. He smiles in a way you think could defy lifetimes, too. 

“This is… really something,” Sylus says, and there’s not a hint of sarcasm. 

It’s everything. The stars, brighter for darkness. The snow, only novel in warmth. These things don’t always work— they’ll undo each-other, overpower each-other, but there’s an ultimate balance, in-between every conflict. An occasional harmony, and it’s… 

Perfect. 

Rafayel scoots close to you. “Was this authorised?” he whispers. 

You look over to the point board, where there are first strikes beneath Zayne and Xavier’s names, and you don’t know how long they’ve been there. 

“No,” you laugh tenderly. “No, it wasn’t.”

[feral-ballad]

“My name is Nour Saqer, for the name remains when all is lost. I turned 22 years old last November. Yes. My youthful time was wasted on horrible days. Yes. Those days still continue.

My name is Nour Saqer. And I am 22 years old. I am a fifth-year dental student at Al-Azhar University of Gaza. I am an aspiring student. I am eager and passionate about my studies. Until the last minute, I was allowed to stay at my house on Oct. 7th. 2023 I was still working on a scientific research proposal that was supposed to be published by me and my teammates of young researchers late in November, that year.

This picture of me was taken late 2022 during an international dental conference held in campus.

During my college years alone. Me and my family have had to forcefully evacuate, and run out of our house four times. In 2019, 2021, 2022, and finally in 2023. Each time was in fear of the same threat; meeting our deaths under rubble. My name is Nour Saqer. And I have always been a Gazan. Each of those past times. If we were fortunate enough, we would discover that our home was in repairable damage. There would be a roof over our heads still. We were still fortunate. We still had luck.

But ever since October 7th. I haven't returned home. We were among the first families to evacuate Al-Rimal neighborhood from the very first day of this genocide, we had to turn our backs to it and expect no return. Two floors of my family house, along with my father's store, and only source of income, have been severely destructed due to neighboring missiles. And my university buildings were heavily exploded. All forms of life have been reaped from my city. My hometown.

This is what's left of our campus. I was supposed to have my graduation ceremony here.

My name is Nour Saqer. And I had an enthusiastic heart. And an energetic body. I played sports and walked down every street until I couldn't. I loved my family and friends dearly. I wrote poems about them. I spent time loving them and cherishing their presence. I loved life with all its little things. With all its unattainable things. I loved the grass and the tall buildings. And I loved all people. I loved my people. All their faces. All their talents. All their hidden lives. All we shared. Until we didn't. Everything I have ever loved I lost.

This picture of me was taken during a happy moment on the roof of our house.

This is all that is left of that picture now.

I am currently sheltered in Rafah with my family of 7. Sharing a place with 30 other homeless people. By the end of Ramadan, me and my family would have to evacuate and seek shelter for yet the 8th time due to housing problems. I am so tired of not having any sense of stability. Nothing to guarantee. Nothing to call my own. Every passing minute the situation in Rafah gets worse. Every passing minute I am losing loved ones and relatives. Every passing minute costs me my sanity. Costs me health. Costs me my basic rights to simply live.

I have nothing left to lose or pay the price with except for my life.

I don’t know how to retell my life story in limited words, how to make the most ordinary moments sound precious. How do I equate my value to someone deserving a life of safety? How do I shape myself as someone worth saving?

I have been interviewing myself for days. All my stories are choking me. All my grief is piling up and muting me. I keep trying to find a way to present the best of myself. To make myself someone you'd want to look at. Listen to. And even more,

Help.

I am finally placing both hope and faith in your helpful hands. I am asking you. Please put an end to this continuing tragedy. And help me get to safety. Before it's too late.

It should be in your knowledge that:

It costs $5,000 per person to get out of Rafah through the Boarder Crossing to Egypt. The rest of the donations will be to secure my tution money for the fifth and final year of dental school.

Thank you.”

[baronessvonglitter]

Like a Good Girl Should

mom's sleazy bf!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 2.7K

Summary: Your mom's sleazy new boyfriend Joel Miller is the last person you'd ever want to be alone with.. so how did you end up on his lap getting punished?

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, sleazy!Joel, dominant!Joel, using panties for masturbation, mention of dad in prison & brief prison r@pe joke, slut shaming reader's mom, mild violence, dubious consent (at first), spanking, thigh spanking, pussy spanking, rough fingering, threat of fisting, squirting, masturbation, ejaculation on body, no use of y/n, pet names ('daddy' and 'sir' for Joel; little girl, baby girl, darlin', sweetheart for reader), no specific age for Joel mentioned but there's still an age gap as reader is in college. (If I've forgotten any, please let me know!)

Author's Note: AKA I've got a hankerin' for some spankerin'!

I've had this fic on my mind for a week and now it's finally out. I tried to make Joel as sleazy as I could without being a total nightmare. Thanks to everyone who showed interest when it was a seedling of an idea. I'm honestly looking forward to writing whatever my next kink hyperfixation will be!

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

divider by @saradika-graphics👑

You fucking hate Joel Miller.

He's the asshole who moved in a few months ago.

With your dad in prison, your mom lamented the loss of a man around the house, until one night she brought Joel home with her after meeting him at a sleazy beer joint. And he never left.

He's offensive in every way: he doesn't pick up after himself, doesn't help out with the chores, drinks milk straight from the carton, and walks around in the morning in nothing but his briefs, proudly showing off his god damn morning wood.

Not that you've looked..

And every night it's the same hectic squeaking of your mom's bedsprings, the same quick, loud shrieks followed by moans that crescendo in pitch until it all falls silent, only to start up again fifteen minutes later.

Not that you listen.

He makes no secret about ogling you, making suggestive comments on your clothing (or lack thereof). You count the days until you have enough saved up to move out while you're still attending junior college.

When your mom's working the late shift at the diner down the road, you do some cleaning up while Joel sits on his ass watching some stupid 80s action movie. You gather your clothes and put them in the washer, one by one, making sure the right things are inside out, and that pant legs aren't twisted up.

You find your favorite pair of panties, hot pink silk, the first nice pair of panties you purchased yourself at a fancy lingerie store. Horror makes your stomach sink when you look closer at the crotch of the panties, seeing a glob of what you're one hundred percent sure is cum.

Joel.

You confront him about it and he doesn't even bother to deny it. He simply kicks back on the sofa (fully clothed for once) and tells you you should take it as a compliment.

You should take him jacking off into your favorite pair of panties.. as a compliment.

Seeing red, you tell him to fuck off, to get out, that you'll tell your mom what he's been doing, but he gets up and towers over you, backing you to the wall.

"You ain't gonna do shit, little girl."

"Try me," you dare him.

The look on his face makes you wonder if he'd rather kill you or devour you on the spot.

"Get the fuck out," you whisper, eyes blazing with fury.

"Listen, little girl, and listen good: I'm here whether you like it or not, so get used to it. As long as your mama wants a piece of this," he cups his crotch as you look away in disgust. "Then I'm stayin'. And as long as I'm stayin', it's my rules that run this place, you hear?"

"You can't tell me what to do!" You shout back indignantly.

He scoffs as you say that, irritation flaring at your defiant tone. He shakes his head, continuing to glare at you. "Oh, yes I can, darlin'. As long as you're livin' under my damn roof, I can tell you to do whatever I want you to do, whenever I damn well please."

"This isn't your fucking house!"

"I'm the only man here, ain't I?"

"Then I'm moving out!"

"No you're not! Don'tcha even think about it!"

"You gonna stop me?"

He lets out a dangerous rumble as you challenge him, his eyes narrowing, practically daring you to push him. "Try it and see what happens."

In your room you grab a duffel bag and cram some clothes and necessary items in there. Already Joel is storming into the hall, his boots loud against the wooden floor.

"You gotta be kiddin' me," he shakes his head.

"Told you I'm leaving. Don't know why you won't believe me."

"Where ya goin'? To that lil' drug dealer boyfriend of yours?" he sneers.

"So what if I am?"

"The hell you will. If you let him anywhere near you, I'm breakin' his damn legs."

His eyes go wide as you storm past him and head for the front door. His hand shoots out and grabs your arm before you can get too far. "Oh, no, ya don't," he growls, grabbing and jerking you back toward him. He grips your upper arm tightly as he spins you around to face him.

"Let me go!"

He scowls, keeping you in place in front of him. "No, I'm not lettin' you go, darlin'. Not until you quit bein' a brat and calm the hell down."

"Don't call me a brat!"

He grins at this. "Then stop actin' like one. You've been runnin' your mouth ever since I came here, and now you're makin' threats ya can't follow through on and bein' an uptight little bitch."

"Go to hell!" You spit at him, a glob of your saliva lands on his cheek and he wipes it off with his fingers, putting them them in his mouth to suck it off. You watch with mild disgust even as you're a little turned on.

"Oh, I should put you over my damn knee and tan that sassy little ass of yours until you behave yourself, darlin'."

You cross your arms. "You don't have the balls!"

A smirk crosses his face. "You can see for yourself, darlin'." He cups his crotch, drawing your eyes to him even though you don't want to.

"You really think I'm not gonna put ya over my knee and paddle that cute little ass 'til it's raw?"

"You wouldn't!"

A smirk creeps over his face at the uncertainty in your voice, his hand moves down to your hip, fingers digging in the flesh. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel your panties dampen.

"Nah, you're pussy's speakin' for ya. I can see it already, you soakin' up those lil' shorts of yours."

You're too turned on to risk speaking, struggling against him because it's the only way you can fight back, prove him wrong.

"There's no escape from daddy, darlin', You're stuck. And you're gonna be punished until ya behave yourself."

You growl, "You're not my fuckin' daddy!"

He grins at you, grabs a handful of your hair, yanking it brutally to force you to look up at him. "That's right. Your daddy's in prison, probably gettin' passed around like the little bitch he is. I'm your daddy, darlin', and don'tcha forget it. I'm the one protectin' you, takin' care of you, and now daddy's gonna put you in your place."

He jerks you towards the sofa, pulling you over his lap so your ass is squarely on his thighs, your top half pressed into the sofa cushions at an awkward angle, holding yourself up on your forearms so you can breathe, watching helplessly as he pulls down your shorts and panties in one go, leaving your ass bare to him. He drops your clothes to the floor. The way your positioned he can also see your pussy lips, swollen with excitement.

One arm on your back holds you down, the other trails its fingertips across your smooth, supple skin, giving you goosebumps, causing your cunt to clench, much to your horror.

"You've been very naughty today, darlin', haven't you?" he prefaces your punishment, giving your ass a light swat to punctuate his words.

You're too stunned to move or speak.

He runs his large, rough hand over your ass, squeezing one of your cheeks as he looks down at you, his voice low and stern: "Answer me, baby girl. You know you're supposed to answer your daddy when he asks a question." He gives your ass a sharper smack, the sound of his hand on your flesh reverberating in the room, shameful to your ears.

You give a sharp gasp. "Yes! I was being naughty!"

"That's right. You were bein' a bad girl, a sassy little brat who keeps gettin' smart with daddy." He rubs his hand over your ass, then gives it a few little swats, each one harder than the last, building up a stinging heat on your flesh.

You squirm under each spanking, seeking friction for your aching clit.

"Stay. Still," he orders in a growl.

"Daddy, it aches," you whine, not talking about the spankings. There's a wetness growing between your thighs, glistening, catching Joel's attention like a raven sighting something shiny in the grass. He growls, his touch hovering over your folds, not yet ready to give in to your needs.

"I know it aches, baby girl. But it's supposed to. It's your punishment for being a naughty little brat." He doesn't allow himself to focus on it, his hand grabbing your thigh instead. "Open your legs wider," he commands when you try to squeeze them together to get some relief.

Your scent rouses him when you open your legs just a little. He forces them apart and slaps the insides of your thighs, his dick getting harder when you cry out from sensitivity.

"Does that hurt, baby girl?" his voice is mockingly gentle as he runs his calloused fingers over your inflamed skin. When you nod instead of giving a vocal answer he slaps another palm against your already-stinging skin. "Answer me," he warns.

"Y-yes.." you reply, trying like hell to close your legs, but he keeps you down, keeps them forced apart just enough. "Fuck.." you mutter, eyes closed as more of your desire drips out of you, running down your thighs to his jean-covered lap.

He feels your excitement, the warmth you give off, feels your slick dripping out of you like sap from a tree. He knows if he slides inside you right now you'd be hot, wet, accommodating his fingers, his tongue, his cock, whatever else he wants to put in your little fuckhole. But he has control. He waits you out.

"What was that?" he snaps, giving you another spank, slightly harder than before. "Did you just curse at me, baby girl? I don't think I'm gonna go easy on you if you're gonna keep usin' that filthy mouth for that kinda language."

The dark, damp spot you created on his jeans grows, as does his enjoyment. He's hard as a rock, wishing you were placed just so so that you can feel it. He imagines you rubbing your needy unclothed cunt across the crotch of his jeans, satisfying yourself on just his clothed cock.

"Are you enjoyin' your punishment?" He mocks you once again, lightly brushing his knuckles across your puffy, drooling pussy lips, smirking when you whimper and shiver, trying to lift your hips to his touch. "Shh.. you don't get to be greedy right now, sweetheart. This is daddy's time to teach you a lesson. You're gonna be a good girl and let me teach you that lesson, aren't you?"

"Yes, daddy," you whine. Your entire body is aflame with need, brimming over with desperation. You'll do anything he wants, suck his cock, take his dick in whichever hole he pleases, so long as your frustration is released, so long as you get to come.

"That's more like it," he praises, his hand moving across your sore buttocks, softly touching before landing another stinging slap. "Good girls listen to daddy, and good girls take their punishments without complainin' and cryin'. They just take it, like a good girl should."

The need for friction, your pussy left wanting and vulnerable, brings you to tears, despite his warning not to cry, "Wanna.. be good for daddy."

"I don't know if you can be good.. don't know if it's in your nature. Got a felon for a father and a whore for a mother. I think you're just plain bad.. might need to stay on my lap for a long time." He lands a slap, watching your ass jiggle with the force of it.

"Please," you whine.

"Aw, what's wrong, darlin'? You seem like somethin's botherin' you." Two more slaps, one on each ass cheek before he grabs one at a time, squeezing hard on the flesh, relishing the heat radiating from your skin, and spanking them again. "How's your ass feel, sweetheart? All warm and tender and sore?" He soothes you with his hand.

"Yes.. yes, sir."

He chuckles lowly. "Daddy likes it when you call him 'sir'. You get points for that, baby girl. Now answer my question."

Question..question.. Every time he speaks, his actions override it, but he did ask how you were feeling, if you were sore. "Yes. But I still ache.. inside."

His cock twitches in his jeans and he adjusts himself beneath you. "Still achin' inside, huh? Need some relief? Need daddy to help you out?"

"Yes, daddy." Your fingers grip the couch cushion.

He gives your hair another tug, yanking your head back, forcing you to look up at him. "What did I tell you just now about callin' me 'sir'?"

Your eyes meet his and you swallow, but your mouth refills with saliva. Your mouth is as wet as your cunt, hoping he'll fill one or the other. Preferably both. "Yes, sir, daddy.. please.. help me."

"You're so sweet when you ask so nicely, beggin' me to take care of you." He lets go of your hair, his hand caressing your lower back and ass in a gentle, soothing way.

"But I ain't gonna fuck ya. You're not my type."

What you get instead is another spanking, then another, and another, until your ass feels raw, until it's nearly numb, then Joel presses two fingers deep inside, cramming you with his thick digits. Gasping a shuddering breath, you push back on him, only for him to take them away, spreading your wetness on your backside.

"You're just like your mom.. needy as a feral cat. Can't ever get enough," he grumbles, giving you another smack before inserting his fingers again, spreading your thighs wide as he shoves them in and out, smiling when he hears your cries of pleasure, the way you squeeze around him as if to keep him there. If it was his dick in there he'd have cum already, you're so snug and wet around him.

He removes his fingers again when he feels you close to the edge and your frustrated groan brings a smile to his face.

"Please, daddy.. sir.. Joel.." Whatever he wants you to call him. "Please don't stop!"

"You're gonna have to be quiet or I'm gonna stick my whole hand in this lil' pussy, stretch it out so nothin' else will ever fit."

You're shivering, your body on edge for his touch, and the fucker knows it. And you know he'll make good on his threat. You force yourself to be quiet, only the smallest whimpers escaping your lips once his fingers slide into you again, this time adding a third finger, unable to help it when you moan, "Oh, god, daddy!"

This time he doesn't pull away, keeping his fingers in a steady thrust inside you, using his free hand to slap your ass, mixing the pleasure with the pain. He parts your thighs further, lifting your hips to smack your pussy, grinning when you jolt forward, crying out, not allowing you to close your legs when you get overstimulated, continuing to land slaps upon your sensitive flesh until you whimper another please, daddy.

He mutters something unintelligible, bringing his fingers back to your soaked cunt, your juices creating an even bigger stain on his jeans. Pumping his fingers in and out, he scratches that itch, finds that spongy tissue inside that drives every woman crazy, and he rubs against it, watching you writhe, listening to your ragged gasps and desperate pleas until you squirt, your fluid dousing his hand and his lap until you beg him to stop when you become oversensitive.

He could continue, he could give you more, go all night, but he doesn't have as much patience as he used to. Positioning himself behind your sprawled out figure on the sofa, he takes himself from his jeans and strokes his length urgently, spilling his cum on your still-quivering ass and your drenched cunt.

Satisfied, he smears his cum all over you with his dick while it's still half-hard.

"Ain't that pretty," he comments. "Now, you ain't tellin' your mama nothin', and we can come to some kind of agreement that benefits us both.. right, my good girl?"

Exhausted, empty, you nod. "Yes, daddy."

tag list 💕: @survivingandenduring @evolnoomym @mountainsandmayhem @pedroswife69 @wannab-urs @lunamothgoth @inept-the-magnificent @karaslqve

[minbells]

Megumi who doesn’t think there’s anything more breathtaking than the sight of you in this very moment. And yet, there’s nothing too extravagant nor inappropriately enticing about what you’re doing. You’re just, there. And that’s enough for his heart to start racing.

"Can’t sleep?" he attempts a greeting, and you turn your head towards him, surprised to see him up and on the same rooftop as you in the late hours of the night. You have a book on your lap and your fluffy blanket is loose around your shoulders. As he gets closer he can spot goosebumps on your skin. You sleepily smile up at him, your legs dangling on the side of the rooftop and he almost wants to scold you from sitting too close to the edge. Instead his heart just melts because you look absolutely adorable and he wants to kiss you.

"Yeah, it’s just harder to fall asleep some nights," you hum, and you catch an understanding nod from him as he settles next to you. You stay silent for a little bit, book forgotten, and you both stare at the leaves rustling with the wind, appreciating how quiet and secluded Jujutsu Tech is, especially at night. The moon peaks through heavy clouds and your features are enhanced by the gentle glow — Megumi has to slightly shake his head to suppress the lovesick smile that threatens to appear on his lips. Lord, why does he only lose his cool around you?

"We should do something tomorrow," you suddenly blurt out after a long yawn, and it immediately triggers a blush on his cheeks. "You know, we never really hang out just the two of us."

"We’re hanging out right now," he responds before he could stop himself, and you smile sheepishly, turning towards him in an attempt to catch the look on his face. Dread is what you see, because why the hell did he say that? He almost wants to slap himself for his smart ass comment, but you just smile gently at him and all thoughts leave his head at the sight.

"I know, but I mean we should do something when we’re less sleep deprived and stores are actually open. We could go that arcade Yuuji always talks about, win tons of plushies and get into a food coma," your eyes sparkle slightly at the idea — you are so cute — but then you seem to come to your senses. "I mean, we could also do something more, uh, mature I guess, like taking a walk or something, I don’t know… do your demon dogs like to be walked?," you ramble and he finds it so endearing he almost doesn’t realize that you just asked him out.

Wait, did you just asked him out? And then he blurts it out; "Are you asking me out?," and part of him wants to jump off that roof because why is he so awkward about those things meanwhile you’re an absolute angel. There’s a few seconds of silent where your eyes just widen at him and you pull the blanket closer to your body, feeling slightly smaller under the pressure of his question.

"I- I mean," you trail off, avoiding his intense stare at all cost and finding a sudden interest in picking at the dirt under your nails. But then you remember that it’s Megumi, one of the most practical and calculated guy you know, always so unbothered — unless it comes to you, although you’re unaware of the effect you have on him — and you have a feeling that if you’re not completely clear about what you want he’s probably never going to do anything about it.

And so you find enough confidence in yourself to say what you really want to say. "Yes, I’m asking you out. On a date."

Again, the silence is heavy. You wonder if you came on too strong, if you’ve misread the connection that you’ve always felt with him. This wasn’t your first late night talk, and usually you would always train together. You were always close, and you definitely thought that there was something more that the two of you could share together. Meanwhile, he wonders if you’re joking, or maybe you’re sleepwalking and that’s why you ended up on the roof telling him things he would only dream about.

"You don’t have to, you know…" you try not to sound too disappointed.

"I would love to," he responds immediately, almost eagerly, and he scrambles for anything more coherent to say, but your whole face just lights up and you smile so bright at him that all his worries and awkwardness just melts away at the sight of your happiness. Your smile is exactly what he needed to boost his confidence.

"I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven after training, at your dorm," he says right before he loses his cool demeanour again, not realizing that his cheeks are pink and the tip of his ears red, heart pounding and hands suddenly sweaty — yeah he’s definitely not unbothered by you.

You happily lean in and kiss his cheek, only adding to the fire that’s already raging in his soul. "I can’t wait! What should I wear? I’ll ask Nobara… see you tomorrow, Megumi," you stand and leave, almost with a skip in your step, and he’s dumbfounded, completely lost in the moment, staring ahead with nothing but the sound of your lovely voice echoing in his head, saying his first name for the first time.

He’s left smiling so bright his cheeks hurt.

[blqstar]

: ̗̀➛ K. BAKUGO | PERSIAN RUGS

» [summary] ── you get a phone call from your old best friend Bakugo and end up doing more than just catching up.

cw: (2.7k) x black fem reader, p in v, this is my first time writin a fic so bear with me if its not particularly the best😭 (would love constructive criticism though), swearing, not proofread ngl

Low, honey-colored lights finely lit the room as you look into the tavern. Sultry jazz music reverberates throughout the space, as people gather around the bar. Men and women dressed elegantly sit in the red leather booths, engaging in long, meaningless conversations. Glasses clink, drinks being passed around to the folks circling the lounge. You walked into the bar, the familiar sounds you haven’t heard in so long washing over you like a warm wave.

You never thought you would come back here despite all the memories you’ve had under this roof. However, an unexpected call from your phone ultimately led you right back here. Where you and your old best friend first met.

You vaguely remember him sitting in one of the booths by the bar, slightly drunk from the number of drinks he gulped down since he’d been there. It was a funny interaction, to be quite honest. You didn’t know how famous he was at the time but you recalled his spiky hair and his scarlet eyes and knew that he went to the same high school as you.

You sat down and tried to talk to him but he started blabbering on about himself and bragging about how he would be the #1 pro-hero in Japan. You knew him to always be like this, never fraying from his goals.

His name was Katsuki Bakugo. A man with a fiery temperament, undeniable strength, and fierce loyalty to all who were lucky to be his friends. And surprisingly, you were one of them. Honestly, the closest friend to him to say the least.

You had an unbreakable bond, a friendship forged in the fires of shared feelings and unyielding support. You both connected on such a deep level that the magnifying connection could never disappear.

You spent countless hours talking to each other, ranting about meaningless things. Late-night calls and conversations happened frequently between the two of you, staying up till the crack of dawn just to listen to each other’s voices and hear the stories that happened over the day during your time away from each other.

But little by little as time went by, those calls soon turned into texts, and later, texts turned into absolutely nothing. You knew Kats had a lot on his plate, quite aware that he was one of the most famous pro-heroes in Japan now. But it still hurt a little that he wasn’t texting or calling as much as he used to. It felt like you both were just drifting away from each other. Until a few hours ago, you got a phone call from him.

“Hey, Kats. What’s up?” Your heart thumped when you heard his voice, hearing him let out a slight sigh. You hear people talking and glasses clinking in the background before he speaks again. You sensed a feeling of anxiousness from him but you let it be, only curious about what he was calling you for at such a late hour.

“Hey. You busy right now by any chance?” You’re surprised by his question.

“No, not really. What’s up?”

You audibly hear him clear his throat. “I was thinking…remember that bar where we first met? The one where I was drunk as a lord?”

“Oh, of course. How could I forget, ‘future #1 pro-hero’?” You answer, letting out a little giggle. Katsuki grumbles quietly, “You know I didn’t mean to say that out loud—shut up! Anyway, I was thinking maybe you should come by.”

You gasp sarcastically. “Are you actually inviting me to hang out? This is new for you, Kats.”

Katsuki stutters slightly, sounding a bit flustered. “Don’t get any weird ideas! It’s just…I haven’t seen you in a while, and I figured it’d be nice to catch up.”

Your heart started to beat faster at his response, feeling your face getting warm to the touch. You can’t deny, you had feelings for the man but you could never tell him that. He already has lots of tasks to do. For him to pursue a relationship with you would be a one-in-a-million occurrence, especially with how much fame he’s gotten now. Nevertheless, you digress.

You give him a soft chuckle. “I’d love to catch up with you, Kats. What time should I be there?”

“Just…whenever. I’ll be here. Just don’t take forever, alright?” Katsuki replies, a hint of excitement in his tone.

“Okay, okay! I’ll be there soon. See you.”

…

You made your way to the bar, ordering a drink while glancing around. Your heart raced a little at the thought of seeing him again, your feelings for him rekindling like embers that had never truly died out. The last time you were together had been a welcome filled with unresolved feelings—now, here you were, not knowing if you were seeking to get a long-lasting friendship back or perhaps something more.

As if summoned by your thoughts, he appeared. Katsuki, with his signature spiky blonde hair and those fiery red eyes, looked just as intense as ever. Dressed casually in a fitted black shirt and jeans, he exuded confidence, but there was a softness in his gaze when he spotted you.

His eyes went from studying your face to looking at your body, looking at the orange dress you had on. The way it fits your curves so perfectly made his cheeks go red. You even had his color on too. He gulped and realized he was staring a little bit too long and his expression flickered to a genuine smile, disguising his admiration toward you.

"There you are, finally decided to show up, huh?" he said, crossing the space between you with that familiar swagger you remembered so well.

You chuckled, trying to hide the butterflies in your stomach. "I couldn't resist the call of the infamous Katsuki Bakugo."

He scoffed, but there was a playful glint in his eyes. "Whatever. You just missed my last explosion. Would have impressed you."

You took a sip of your drink, feeling a rush of warmth as he leaned against the bar, his shoulder almost brushing against yours. "I've seen enough explosions for a lifetime, but it’s nice to see you again. How’ve you been?"

The conversation flowed naturally, with laughter and teasing remarks exchanged like old times. As the minutes turned into hours, the noise of the bar faded into the background, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of shared history. However, an undeniable tension started to hang in the air, thickening with every glance, every lingering touch.

As Katsuki continued to talk to you, he brushed his fingers against yours while he spoke, a spark igniting where he touched. Your heart raced with the accidental contact, the proximity between you becoming closer and closer.

This is when you take a really good look at your best friend. His fitted black top clings to his muscled frame, accentuating the curves of his biceps and the hard line of his shoulders. The fabric is cut just low enough to reveal a teasing hint of his toned abdomen, each subtle movement highlighting the power beneath his skin.

His voice fades out as you drool over his physique. Within seconds, you zone back in as he calls your name, eyes focused on his face now.

“S-sorry, what’d you say?” Katsuki stares at you, aware of your reverence for his body. He smiles slyly at you. He feels the tension as much as you do, his eyes in a haze as he starts to speak.

“Hey,” he said, his tone suddenly serious, “are you doing anything later?”

Your breath hitches. “Not at all. Why?”

His eyes locked onto yours, intense and searching. “What do we say we get out of here? My place is nearby, and I…I don’t know, I just feel like talking somewhere a bit more private?”

Your pulse quickened at his invitation. You felt a thrill of excitement course through you and without thinking too much about it, you nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

…

The air outside was cooler, the summer night alive with the sounds of distant traffic and the chirping of crickets. Katsuki led the way, his pace brisk and confident. You walked beside him, heart hammering as the anticipation built within you. What would happen next? Would the tension that had been brewing all night simmer over into something more?

When you arrived at his apartment, he opened the door with a casual ease, stepping aside to let you in. The space was cluttered but cozy, with a few mementos from his UA days scattered around, remnants of the determined hero you had known and admired.

“Make yourself at home,” he said, tossing his keys onto the small table by the door, then heading to grab something to drink. You took a moment to soak in the nostalgia before following him to the kitchen.

As you leaned against the counter, he poured a glass of wine and handed it to you, the heat of his presence growing palpable. You could feel the weight of his gaze as he watched you drink from the chalice, and for a moment, the silence stretched between you—a heavy, pregnant pause charged with unspoken desires.

“Katsuki…” you started, unsure of what to say or how to breach the growing tension.

“Just… let’s not pretend,” he interrupted, closing the distance between you, his voice low and rough, sending shivers down your spine. “We both feel it. This is more than just catching up.”

Your breath caught as he stepped closer, the heat radiating off him enveloping you.

You stare into his piercing orbs. There was a fierce intensity in his eyes as he searched yours for confirmation of your unspoken feelings.

“I know,” you replied softly, your heart racing. “I’ve always felt it.”

He moved even closer, pushing you against the counter. He shifts to the side of your face and puts his lips close to your ear.

“So what are we gonna do about it?” He whispers, his voice low and raspier than before. You press your legs together, warmth building up in your lower region.

“I-”

Before you could respond, he captured your lips in a fierce kiss, igniting a fire within you. His lips were warm, and demanding, sending sparks shooting through your veins. You melted against him, your fingers tangling in his hair as you returned the kiss with equal fervor.

Katsuki deepened the kiss, his hands roaming your waist, pulling you flush against him. The kiss was everything you had imagined and more—intense, passionate, and primal. You could feel the heat radiating off him, matching the storm brewing inside you.

You moan into his mouth, your hands tangling in his spiky hair as he explores your mouth with his tongue.

Katsuki's hands roam down your body, cupping your breasts through your dress. He squeezes them gently, his thumbs brushing against your hardening nipples. You gasp at the contact, your hands moving down to grip his firm ass, pulling him against you.

"I want you," he growls against your mouth, his breath hot on your skin. "I've wanted you since the moment we met."

You look at him in surprise. You then smile against his lips, your body buzzing with desire. "Then what are you waiting for?" you whisper, biting his lower lip playfully.

Katsuki growls in response, picking you up in his strong arms and carrying you towards the bedroom. He kicks the door open, laying you down gently on the soft bed. You watch as he strips off his shirt, your eyes roaming over his well-defined chest and abs. He kicks off his shoes and removes his pants, leaving him standing before you in nothing but his boxers.

You sit up, your hands reaching for the zipper of your dress. You slide it down slowly, revealing your curves inch by inch, enjoying the hungry look in Katsuki's eyes as he takes in the view. You slip the dress off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, leaving you in nothing but your lacy red bra and panties.

Katsuki's eyes darken even further as he takes in your near-naked form. "So fucking beautiful, mama" he breathes, climbing onto the bed to join you. He leans down, capturing your mouth in a passionate kiss as his hands roam down your body. He cups your ass, squeezing it gently before hooking his fingers into the sides of your panties and sliding them down your legs.

You shift, helping him remove your panties, your eyes never leaving his. Katsuki sits back on his heels, his gaze burning as he takes in the view of your wet pussy. "She’s so fucking pretty, ma," he whispers, his voice hoarse with desire.

You feel your face warm up at his compliment and nod, lust taking over you. He lowers and bites your inner thigh, licking at the mark afterward. A low moan bubbles in your throat when his tongue starts lapping at your entrance to your clit. “Fuck, Katsu.”

Your legs tremble as one hand pins your hips down to the bed, the other hand spreading your thighs to accommodate his broad shoulders. He eats you like you’re the last meal he’ll ever have. His plump lips wrap around your throbbing clit as he sucks harshly, making you keen.

You felt the knot in your stomach appear and before you could come undone, he stops and hoists his head up from your pussy. You whine at the loss of friction. Katsuki lifts his hips, sliding down his boxers, his hard length springing free. You bite your lip as you take in the sight of his thick, erect cock, your pussy growing more wet at the thought of feeling him inside you.

"Your turn to get comfortable," you purr, pushing him gently onto his back. You straddle his waist, your hands roaming over his broad chest. You lean down as you kiss him deeply. Katsuki groans into your mouth, his hands gripping your hips as you begin to grind against him, your wet core brushing against his shaft.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he gasps, his head falling back as you continue to move against him. You reach between your bodies, guiding his cock to your entrance. You tease him, rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit before sinking down slowly, impaling yourself on his length.

Katsuki hisses at the sensation, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "You're so tight," he grunts, his eyes screwed shut as he enjoys the feeling of being encased in your warmth.

You bite your lip at the stretching sensation, slowly lifting yourself up and down on his cock, getting used to his size. Katsuki opens his eyes, watching you ride him with a hungry look. "That's it, fuck yourself on my cock," he growls, his hands gripping your ass, helping you move.

You moan, picking up the pace as you bounce on his lap. Your breasts bounce with each movement, your sensitive nipples grazing his chest with every downward motion. Katsuki sits up, his mouth latching onto one taut peak as he sucks and nibbles gently.

"Oh God, Katsuki!" you cry out, your head falling back as pleasure washes over you. "Don't stop, please don't stop!"

Katsuki smirks against your skin, speeding up his thrusts as he meets your movements. His cock slides in and out of your tight pussy, the wet sounds of his hips meeting filling the room. "You like that, huh?" he teases, his free hand moving down to rub your clit in circles.

"Yes! Oh yes, right there!" you cry out, your body trembling on the edge. "I'm so close, please don't stop!"

Katsuki growls, his mouth claiming yours in a passionate kiss as he increases the pressure on your clit. You cry out into his mouth as your orgasm hits you hard, your body shaking uncontrollably as waves of pleasure ripple through you. Katsuki continues to thrust into you through your climax, his own approaching fast.

"Cum for me, baby," he grunts, his eyes locked on yours. "Let me feel you tighten around my cock."

You whimper, your sensitive walls clenching around him as your orgasm continues to wash over you. Katsuki groans, his hips stuttering as he reaches his own climax. "Fuck, I'm cumming!" he roars, his body tensing as he fills you with his hot release.

You collapse against him, both your bodies sticky with sweat as you try to catch your breath. Katsuki hugs you tight, pulling you into his embrace.

“Hey,” he starts. “Y’know I like you too, right?”

[darknight3904]

All Too Well

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spring means new beginnings for both you and Joel, and a trip to a nearby lake has you feeling things for Joel you haven't felt in years. But, the sudden appearance of a stranger in the night has your bliss interrupted and Joel full of worry.

Warnings: Langauge. The Quadratic Equation (Run!) Joel Miller's Dad Bod (Yum) A little bit of a Gladiator tease since I just saw the second movie hehe.

Word Count: 4.1k

Previous Part / Series Masterlist / Main Masterlist

I wrote a little Christmas imagine for Joel. It's not connected to this series but if you're interested, you can check it out right here.

February 2024

Joel can't sleep. He tosses and turns and listens to the way Ellie's snores leak through the thin walls of their new home. Anger seeps out of his body and permeates the peaceful atmosphere of his room..

Anger at himself, at the men who hurt you, at the universe in general. He clenches the hem of his blankets and tries to get a few hours of rest. Tomorrow he's due for an early morning shift at the wall with that guy Luke who never stops talking.

When he finally nods off it's well past two in the morning. His dreams are filled with you and Sarah. Of his failure to protect both of you. At some point he must've called out in his sleep because soon Ellie was shaking him awake, asking if he was okay.

He brushes her off and sends her back to bed. Sitting on the step of his front porch, he watches the sun slowly peak over the snow-covered roofs of Jackson. His eyes roam the front of your home, still dark except for your front porch light. Joel looks at the warped floorboards of your porch, his mind works out how he could fix those for you. Rip the old ones up, place new ones, sand em' down, and then paint a nice finish on them.

He's so lost in his own world of floorboards and wood stains that he misses your front door opening. You shuffle over to him, a bathrobe on over you pajamas and then a winter coat over that.

"Morning, neighbor." You say

Joel looks at your outstretched hands. A steaming mug of coffee is being held out to him.

"Morning." He says, scooting over for you to sit beside him

"Aren't you cold?" You ask as he sips at the coffee, looking at his sweat pants and a simple deep blue long-sleeve shirt.

"M' fine," Joel says

"I'd be freezing my ass off." You shrug, wrapping your fingers around your own mug

Joel sits beside you, sipping his coffee as two rabbits run by and under your front porch.

"Could make a good stew out of those." He notes

"Joel!" You gasp in disgust

"They're pretty fat, bet their pelts would be warm." He shrugs honestly

"Joel, I feed those rabbits." You groan, "You can't kill them for stew or for their fur."

"You're feeding rabbits? What are you, Snow White?" Joel asks

"Excuse me for wanting to have a pet or two." You scoff

Joel shakes his head in disbelief. You never fail to surprise him.

Silence settles around you and him, you shiver a bit and he makes a mental note to find you a warmer coat. Surely someone here had one he could trade for.

"You're really upsetting, y'know that." You say suddenly

"Excuse me?" He asks, confused

Where could this be coming from? He watches as you take a long sip of your coffee and tap your feet against the ground.

"You dumped me, said I was too young for you, and then shipped my stuff back in the damn mail." You huff, "On top of that, the world ended like a month later."

Joel sighs, so you're choosing to confront this now. He should be glad that you're finally mentioning it. Perhaps last night's conversation has made you more comfortable with him.

"I know. I'm sorry about that, I was being a real asshole." Joel says sincerely

"Then why'd you lie?" You ask

"Lie?" Joel asks, confused as to what you're talking about

"When you first got here, you lied to Ellie. Said you didn't know me." You remind him, "Why didn't you just tell her? Why haven't you told her?"

The same guilt and fear he felt when he first saw you months ago in the stables, wells up in his chest.

"I...I don't know." He says softly

Liar.

He knew what it was. Fear had kept him trapped for so many years. For so long, he'd let it strangle him. Even before losing Sarah, he'd felt that fear. That's why he let you go in the first place, Joel was scared of it all but most of all he was afraid, terrified even of falling in love with you.

And yet, here he sat twenty years later, sipping coffee next to you. He knew what he wanted, at least the thought he did.

Joel wanted to press a rewind button, to go back in time and do it all over again. To keep you and Sarah by his side, if he could just go back to August 2003 he swore he'd be able to make it all right again.

But, rewind buttons didn't exist and Sarah was gone, she wasn't coming back, but he still could right things with you, even if you didn't want him anymore. Besides, he knew he didn't deserve you in the first place.

Your soft voice fills his ears again, "You want to know what I think?"

"What?" Joel responds

"I think you're full of shit."

May 2024

You like the spring. Spring means you can stop wearing three different shirts out so you don't freeze. Spring means fresh vegetables in the community garden. Spring means sleeping with the window open at night.

Spring means... allergies? The loud sneeze of one of your patrol partners has you jumping in your saddle.

Apparently, in his old age, Joel Miller now has seasonal allergies.

"You're scaring off every single deer in a two-mile radius." You huff

"Sorry," Joel mumbles, wiping his nose on the back of his sleeve

"Y'should just head back, Joel. No good to us if you're sneezing every three minutes." Tommy says

"No, I'm fine. Besides aren't we teaching her how to hunt?" Joel asks, looking at you

"You can't teach me if you scare everything off." You point out

Tommy lets out a hum of laughter, "She's right."

"Let's keep moving," Joel grumbles

The past two months have been dull. After your conversation that night and then the next morning. Joel swore to himself that he'd make it up to you. Hell, he'd worship the ground you walked on if it meant you'd forgive him.

He didn't even want a second chance with you. He'd sworn it was all platonic when Tommy asked him one day.

Now, he was spending time with both you and his brother, trying to teach you to hunt. Key word trying. He'd probably never tell you but you weren't very good at hunting. This was the third trip he'd made with you and Tommy and Joel swore you were getting worse.

"It's hot today," Tommy notes as the horses plod along

"Summer's less than a month away." You point out

"What I wouldn't give to walk into an air-conditioned home. " Tommy grumbles

"Tell me about it." You sigh

Joel stays quiet as he listens to you and his brother recount the things you both missed. You'd been holding him at arm's length, after that morning on his porch. He'd screwed up, he knew that.

Why the hell did he say he didn't know? He did know! Why couldn't he just admit it to you?

He'd tried to show you through actions, how much he cared for you. Hunted down a better coat for you, fixed your kitchen cabinets, and ate whatever food you dropped off at the house for him and Ellie.

Evidently, you didn't want action, you wanted him to man up and admit it out loud. And, Joel wanted to. He wanted to tell you his fears, why he did what he did back in 2003 and then again in the stables back in December. Yet, every time he'd tried to he'd clammed up and backed down.

"Let's take a break. There's a nice lake up there, Needa sit in the shade, n' cool off." Tommy says suddenly

Joel glanced over to look at his younger brother, who had sweat pouring off him, wetting the back of his shirt. The younger Miller hops off his horse and ties it off before slumping down in the shade of a big oak tree.

"Feels like I'm back in Texas or somethin'" Tommy grumbles

"Oh please, back in Texas it was hot enough to cook an egg on the driveway. This is hardly like that." You laugh

"Speak for yourself, I think I'm sunburned." He says

"You poor little thing." You mockingly coo as you sit beside his brother under the tree

Joel jumps off his own horse, listening to the way the two of you blend together so effortlessly.

"Shut up." Tommy scoffs, shoving your shoulder, "Wasn't askin' you."

Joel feels jealousy swirl in his chest. He wants to be the one laughing with you, not Tommy.

"I'm going for a swim. We can hunt once I'm not sweating buckets." Tommy suddenly decides

Joel finds his way under the tree as Tommy straightens up to pull at his clothes.

"Ugh, put it away!" You mock, covering your eyes as Tommy strips down to his boxers, "The horror!"

"I'll have you know, back in the day girls used to line up to get a view of this." Tommy throws over his shoulder as he walks towards the lake

"Does that mean I get to tell Maria she married the town bike of Austin?"

Tommy doesn't respond but instead walks off and wades quickly into the water.

"You don't want to swim?" Joel asks, taking note of how your skin glistens with sweat.

You shake your head, "I'm fine. You're welcome to, though."

You and Joel sit in silent as he thinks of what to say next. Without Ellie, there's a gap in conversation, the kid was always ready to blab about something.

"You think you could come by my place tonight? Ellie's learning Algebra." He asks, "I try to help but I haven't done anything like it in forty-something years."

"I can try. Can't say I'll be much help though." You say

"You're the one with the fancy college education." Joel shrugs

"I'd like to remind you I never got my degree. Not to mention, It's been twenty years, I'm 44, not 24." You shake your head

"Right..."

Joel forgets that sometimes. You're older now. He knows you're different now, that school is no longer the top priority in your mind. Still, he likes to reminisce about the past when you were still a college kid, drowning in books and shitty professors.

A stale breeze blows through the air, and Joel feels like his clothes are suffocating him. How you're in jeans and a long sleeve is mind-boggling.

"I'm gonna go cool off. Feel like I'm about to pass out." Joel says, pulling his boots off

"M'kay." You nod, "Don't let Tommy drown you in there."

"What?"

"Once I came out here with him and Maria, and as a joke he tackled her, and nearly killed her since he caught her off guard." You shrug

"He tried to drown his wife?" Joel asked

"Well this was when he was still trying to win her over to even date him, but yeah."

"Bet she loved that," Joel smirks

"Yup, wouldn't talk to him for three days."

You feel hot, and no, it's not from the sun. Joel Miller is about 10 feet away, stripping down to his underwear to go for a swim. If there was a god, why was he torturing you like this?

Your eyes roam Joel's back which had been exposed to your greedy eyes. It was the first time you'd seen his body since 2003, of course, you were curious.

Muscle strains under the skin and your eyes greedily drink in the splatter of chest hair that litters his skin. Said trail of hair leads down down down to the band of his boxers. Much to your delight, Joel's stomach had seemingly softened even more with age.

God, you loved dad bods.

"Take a picture!" Tommy called from the shallow water at the edge of the lake

You flash your middle finger at the more annoying Miller. God, you hoped a fish would bite his ass while he was in there.

You flop back into the grass and stare up at the oak tree and the way the sun peaks through its branches. You weren't going to check Joel out anymore, nope, you were done with that.

"You sure you don't wanna come? Tommy and I'll cover our eyes, won't peak, I swear." Joel asks from your right

"M'fine. Go swim, Joel" You say softly dismissing him

Once he's gone, you rummage through your bag and pull out a bag of trail mix. You chew slowly, thinking of Joel's words as you do.

"Take some deep breaths as you chew. Think about what you're eatin'."

He'd slowly been coaching you through fixing your eating problems. For the most part, it worked well. It also helped that you ate dinner with him and Ellie most nights.

It'd been Ellie's decision, she kept inviting you over or just showing up at your front porch. So, now the three of you just ate together, apparently you're now Ellie's savior as well since Joel's cooking hasn't improved much over the years.

Guess some things don't change.

Tommy watches as Joel slowly approaches him in the water.

"No tackling. My back won't survive it." Joel sternly says

"I'm not 9 anymore, Joel. Why would I tackle you?" Tommy scoffs

"Heard what you did to Maria. Not takin' any chances here." Joel sternly says, giving Tommy the 'I'm older than you, you better listen' look that Tommy had seen at least a million times since he was a kid.

"That was a one-time thing!" Tommy jumps to defend himself

He couldn't believe you even remembered that let alone told Joel.

"She's burning up over there." Joel starts, "Refusing to get in here as well. I told her we wouldn't look but she's just laying up there sweatin' her ass off."

"She never swims." Tommy explains, "Been here probably twenty-thirty times with her and Maria over the years, not once has she decided to get in with us. Think the closest she got was to dip her feet in."

"Did you tackle her too?" Joel asks, his voice full of accusation.

"No." Tommy scoffs, how could Joel think such a thing.

"Just don't want her passing out from heat stroke." Joel frets, "Maybe I could wet some cloth, get her to put it over her neck."

A bit of water laps up into Tommy's face and he rubs at his eyes. Joel had a right to know, right?

"She's got scars, Joel." He cuts his brothers rambling off, "Haven't seen em' myself but Maria says she's covered in them, head to toe."

Joel's quiet beside Tommy now, the sound of sloshing water is the only noise between the two brothers.

"Oh..." Joel's voice softly comes from Tommy's left

The loud shout of their names has both brothers turning back to the shore. You're waving your arms about, holding the small radio Tommy had tucked into his boot before going for a swim.

"It's the baby!"

Joel has never seen his brother so frantic. Even when Sarah had died, Tommy had been composed, swallowing his feelings and trying to keep Joel together as they drifted around the country.

Now, his little brother is jumping off his horse and sprinting to the clinic, to his wife. It's endearing the way he cares for her, even if she hated Joel, he could tell she loved Tommy.

Joel grasps the reigns of Tommy's horse and follows you back to the stables.

"You think she'll be okay?" You ask breathily

Joel looks at you, he can tell you're nervous for Maria.

"I'm sure she'll be alright. Seems strong, not to mention the clinic doctor is skilled, she's in good hands." Joel says

You nod and lead Pepper into her stall.

"Sorry about the hunting. I don't know where the sneezing is coming from." Joel says, feeling guilty he ruined the day

"It's fine. I've never caught anything bigger than a rabbit." You wave him off

That night Joel watches as you hover over Ellie who's been sweating over a problem that apparently used the Quadratic Equation. What that was, Joel wasn't quite sure.

"This is fucking impossible..." Ellie grumbles

"Don't drop any negatives." You advise, sipping at your mug of coffee.

Joel normally hoarded the stuff but you were so damn easy to say yes to. So of course when you asked him if he could brew you a cup of his precious drink, he'd caved. Hell, you could ask him to steal half the food in Jackson and he'd do it if it meant you'd smile and bat your eyelashes at him.

"Motherfucking piece of shit..." Ellie whispers

You kick her chair, "Langauge. What's that baby going to think when you curse at it?"

"I'm pretty sure it's going to spend most of it's time shitting and sleeping so I think I'm in the clear." Ellie points out

"So just like you then?" Joel asks

Ellie lets out a scoff at his bad joke.

"Just do your math." You roll your eyes, standing up to cross the room where Joel stands over the sink, doing the dishes from dinner.

"How long does labor take?" You ask him.

Joel's brain is a bit fuzzy as he tries to remember how long it took Sarah to be born.

"I think it's different with everyone. Maria could have that kid tonight, or we might be waiting until tomorrow." Joel says

Sarah had taken what 11, 12 hours? All he remembers is that her mother had broken nearly every bone in his hand when she was pushing. At the end of it all though, his daughter had come out perfect.

"Jesus..." You sigh, "That's...insane."

"It'll all be okay," Joel assures you, he can tell you're worried. Not that he can blame you, from what he can tell Maria seems to be your only friend here in Jackson.

"I know." You sigh

Joel looks at the way your nerves and anxiety have settled into your pretty features. They line your face and make you look tired.

"Hey, Ellie,"

The teen looks up from her math, welcoming the distraction.

"Wanna watch a movie with us?" He asks

Joel has to cover his laugh with a cough when you screech out in shock. Only you'd react to a simple statement like this...

"You've never seen Gladiator?!"

"No...Born after the world ended, remember?" Ellie scoffs

"But still! Joel's had this DVD just sitting here in this house and you've never watched it?" You ask

"No..."Ellie trails off as she kicks her feet up on the coffee table from her spot in the recliner

"You've done a terrible job, watching over her." You judge him

"Right, cuz getting her from Boston to Wyoming in one piece without dyin' is so terrible," Joel says

"It is if she hasn't seen Gladiator." You say, popping the disc into the player while Joel shakes his head.

Joel watches from his spot beside you on the couch as you absorb the movie, answering Ellie's questions when she asks. He smiles to himself as you happily explain what's happening on the screen. You always loved movie nights.

"Oh gross! He's totally into his sister!" Ellie points at the screen to Commodus and Lucilla.

"Sick fuck." You declare and nudge Joel who nods in agreement

There is only one couch cushion between you and him but it might as well be the size of the Grand Canyon. Joel's fingers itch to reach out and pull you into his side. He wants to watch this movie the way you used to watch movies with him.

He wants your head resting on his chest as the movie plays so he can play with your hair while you take in the flashing screen. Joel wants to smell the soft scent of your body wash as you lay so close to him that you're both practically mushing into one being.

As the credits begin to roll, You let out a yawn while Ellie rates the movie a 10/10.

"Too bad there won't ever be another." She sighs, "We could totally have a movie on Lucilla's kid."

"Right?" You agree looking at him, "Joel could totally play a part in it too."

"Excuse me?" Joel asks, baffled at the idea. He was no movie star.

"Yeah, you got that Roman nose. You could play some hot general or something." You shrug gesturing to his face.

Joel shakes his head in disagreement yet all he can focus on is that you indirectly just called him hot.

"You're loosin' it. I'm not fit enough to play a gladiator." He says, thinking of Russell Crowe's perfectly toned physique. Joel's body had gone soft with age, muscle hidden under soft flesh, he was no early 2000s heartthrob.

"That's why she said general." Ellie points out

"A hot one." You add for the second time

"Yeah yeah, Hot General Joel. I'll start my workout tomorrow." He sighs looking at You and Ellie you are both smiling at him. Warmth spreads across his chest, When was the last time he felt like this?

"Alright, time for bed. Ellie go brush your teeth." Joel says nodding to the steps

For once in her life, she goes off without objecting. Joel doesn't miss the way she mouths "Kiss her!" to him from behind your back. His face heats up in embarrassment, that damn kid was going to be the death of him one day.

"I should get going. I wanna go down to the clinic early tomorrow to check on Maria." You say, standing up and stretching, "Have a good night, General."

Joel nods, rising to his own feet. He thanks you for helping Ellie with whatever that math was. You give him a warm smile and then go to grab your shoes.

Joel might be half deaf but anyone could've heard the commotion outside. You jump when the loud slam of fists sounds when someone begins knocking on the door like the world is ending.

"Joel!" A loud voice calls

Joel whips the door open to reveal Brett. A young guy who was supposed to be ontop of the wall tonight until 3am.

"What? What happened?" Joel asks worry fills his system, what could be happening? Was there a breach in the wall? Infected? What was the best place he could hide you and Ellie?

"Got a situation. Tommy said a few days ago that you'd be in charge of shit like this if he and Maria were unavailable." Brett says

"What about the council? They're above me." Joel says he doesn't want any part of whatever is happening.

"There's people Joel. Night patrol picked them up and brought em' in." Brett explains, "Could you just come take a look? Tommy said you got a good head for stuff like this."

"A good head for what?" Joel asks, doubtingly

"A good head for people," Brett says

Joel follows Brett towards the gates of Jackson. You trail behind him, Ellie a few paces behind you. He had demanded you stay back but of course your stubborn self followed him and Ellie right after you.

"How many?" Joel asks as Brett leads

"Two. One man, one woman." Brett says

"And they're clean?" Joel asks, thinking of how horrible it might get if they were infected.

"The dog let them right through, even licked the woman a few times." Brett responds

Joel nods and his eyes land on a group of Jackson's people, surrounding the newcomers. Some of them have guns out at least.

"Who was on patrol? I thought we weren't letting people in at night?" Joel asks

Brett lists off a few names. Fuzzy faces come into Joel's mind. Every single person on patrol tonight had to be under 25. Young and dumb. Too trusting for this world.

Joel takes a gun from a man he recognizes as Louis and motions for you and Ellie to hang back behind him and Brett.

The people in front of him look helpless. The woman is alarmingly skinny, perhaps it's the old dress she's wearing but she looks horribly malnourished. Joel honestly can't tell if she's even alive. Unconscious and slumped in the dirt, she looks like a corpse. The man looked a bit better, although it could just be his clothes hiding how skinny he was. He stands up when Joel looks at him, desperation in his eyes.

"Names," Joel says, his voice gruffer than it'd been in months.

"Please, we need food and water. It's been days." The man begs

"Names." Joel says again, "Where are you coming from?"

"Please..." The man begs again, "We don't mean any harm. We're both clean, that dog proved it before we entered!"

Joel hears Brett whispering behind him and before he can stop you, you brush past him, partially blocking the view of this stranger.

"I know his name."

Your voice is shaky, a tone Joel's never heard before takes over your vocal chords. Joel looks at the man whose eyes are on you now. A glint of recognition flashes across his face and even in the dark, illuminated by Jackson's streetlights, Joel can see his skin pale. You speak again, your voice barely a whisper in the dark as you stare at this man.

"Adam."

Next Part

I wrote a little Christmas imagine for Joel. It's not connected to this series but if you're interested, you can check it out right here.

And so I return with another chapter. I meant to write this sooner, I just got lazy and have been spending more time sleeping since the Fall Semester sucked my soul out of my body.

Comment to be added to the tag list. This tag list is not chapter by chapter, I carry the tags over to each part.

Tags:

@lunaticgurly  @orcasoul  @snowlycanroc  @freythecrazyfae

@person-005 @greenwitchfromthewoods

@elli3williams @yawnzzzzzzzz. @am-3-thyst

[darksturnz]

NIGHTS LIKE THIS

CONTENTS:・teeth rotting fluff-heavy plot (imo) ・star!reader ・mild language ・sleeping in the same bed・artist!chris ・substance use + more (part two here) WC: 2.3k masterlist: here

i highly highly recommend listening to this on repeat, as that’s what i did :,) promise it sets the mood. + heavily dedicated to my literal star @55sturn

The roof of Chris’s trailer creaked as Star stretched out on the patchy blanket, her black hoodie blending into the night sky above. The air was cool, almost cold, but not quite enough to send her shivering. Pine View was never silent, even at night—the hum of cicadas buzzed low in the background, broken occasionally by a bark or the far-off growl of an engine.

Chris sat beside her, leaning back on one elbow, a joint hanging loosely from his fingers. His face was calm, unreadable as always, except for the faint furrow in his brow. Smoke curled lazily in the air between them, dissipating into the starry sky.

“I’m telling you,” Star said, voice animated as her finger traced a constellation, “if aliens exist, there’s no way they’re not watching us right now. We’re like, prime reality TV for them. Chaos, drama, stupidity—it’s got everything.”

Chris exhaled a slow stream of smoke, not bothering to look up. “Pretty sure aliens have better taste than watching us fail at life.” His tone was dry, the corner of his mouth twitching like he wanted to smile but wouldn’t let himself.

Star glanced over at him, her lips twitching into a smirk. “You’re such an optimist, Chris.”

“Realist,” he corrected, passing the joint to her without looking. His eyes were fixed somewhere on the horizon, but she could feel him listening in that quiet way he always did.

She took a drag, coughing slightly before handing it back. “Still. If they’re watching us, I bet they’re rooting for us, y’know? Like… even when life’s a mess, people find these little moments of peace. Kinda like this.”

Chris finally glanced at her, the faintest flicker of something soft in his sharp features. The way her nose crinkled when she tried to suppress her laugh; the way her eyes lit up, reflecting the stars she couldn’t stop rambling about—it was… annoying, maybe, how effortlessly she made the night feel less heavy. But not in a bad way.

“Maybe,” he muttered, almost to himself, before looking away again.

They lapsed into silence for a while, the kind that felt comfortable after months of stolen nights like this. Star broke it first, as she always did.

“You’re extra quiet tonight,” she said, nudging his shoulder. “What’s on your mind? Or are you just too high to function?”

Chris rolled his eyes, taking another drag. “Maybe I like the quiet, Kid. You ever think about that?”

“Nope,” she replied easily, grinning. “You’d be miserable without me, admit it.”

“Sure,” he said, deadpan, though the corners of his mouth twitched again.

Eventually, Star sat up, wobbling slightly as she eyed the trellis below. “Alright, we should head down before I fall asleep up here. You’re terrible at carrying people, and I refuse to be a headline in the Pine View Gazette: Local Emo Girl Plummets to Death Off Trailer Roof.”

Chris snorted. “They’d probably get your name wrong, too.”

Star nudged him with her elbow. “Go first. You’re the guy. Don’t guys like… live for this macho stuff? Protecting damsels in distress n’all that?”

Chris rolled his eyes. “You’re about as distressed as a cat on catnip.”

He swung his legs over the edge of the roof, gripping the trellis. It creaked under his weight, but he made it down smoothly, dusting his hands on his jeans when he reached the ground.

“See?” he called up. “s’fine. Just don’t be an idiot about it.”

Star pulled a face. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Captain Supportive.”

As she carefully climbed down, the trellis groaned ominously. Her foot slipped on a loose slat, and the sound of wood snapping was followed by a startled yelp.

“Chris!”

She fell backward, and he scrambled to catch her. The impact sent them both crashing to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

Star landed on top of him, groaning as she tried to sit up. “Oh my god, I told you this thing was a death trap! Are you okay? Did I—”

“Shut up,” Chris said, breathless, but there was no heat in his words.

He stared up at her, his eyes locked on hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to still. The joint haze lingered in the air, making every detail sharper—the warmth of her body against his, the way her breath hitched slightly, the glint of stars in her wide eyes.

Her voice softened. “Chris…”

He didn’t move, didn’t speak, his gaze flicking briefly to her lips. It was as if gravity itself was pulling them closer, and she swayed slightly, her hands braced against his chest.

And then—

“Chris?”

Lila’s small, groggy voice shattered the moment. They froze, heads snapping toward the trailer’s back door, where Lila stood in her pajamas, rubbing her eyes.

Star scrambled to her feet, her cheeks burning. Chris sat up slowly, running a hand through his hair as he muttered, “What are you doing up, Lila?”

“I had a bad dream,” she mumbled, sniffling.

Chris sighed, climbing to his feet and brushing off the dirt. “Alright, c’mon,” he said, jerking his head toward the trailer. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

Star stood awkwardly to the side, still flustered, as Chris led Lila inside. When he came back out a few minutes later, his face was unreadable again, the moment between them seemingly forgotten.

“You coming?” he asked, nodding toward the trailer.

“Yeah,” she said quickly, following him in.

They collapsed onto the couch with a spread of leftover snacks, bingeing Rick and Morty in comfortable silence. But every so often, Star caught Chris sneaking glances at her, his expression softening just slightly before he turned back to the screen.

Star popped a fry into her mouth, her legs curled beneath her on the couch. The glow from the TV flickered across her face as the absurd antics of Rick and Morty filled the small living room. She stole a glance at Chris, who sat slouched next to her, picking at the crust of a slice of leftover pizza.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the moment on the ground—the way his eyes had locked with hers, the way her heart had flipped in her chest. It was ridiculous, really. Chris was… Chris. Gruff, blunt, emotionally unavailable Chris. And yet, her cheeks still felt warm when she thought about how close they’d been.

“You’re staring,” Chris said without looking up. His tone was as dry as ever, but the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

Star jerked her gaze back to the TV, stuffing another fry into her mouth. “I’m not staring. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Right,” he drawled, finally glancing over at her. “Because you’re the picture of subtlety.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” she shot back, turning to face him fully now. “You’ve been sneaking looks at me all night. What, do I have something on my face?”

Chris raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable as he leaned back against the couch. “Maybe. Or maybe you’re just paranoid.”

She narrowed her eyes, trying to gauge if he was messing with her. “You’re so annoying, you know that?”

“And yet, here you are,” he replied smoothly, grabbing the remote and flipping to the next episode.

Star crossed her arms, leaning back with a huff. “I could’ve stayed home.”

Chris turned to her, the ghost of a smirk still lingering. “You wouldn’t have. You like it here too much.”

Her mouth opened to argue, but no words came out. Because he wasn’t wrong. For all his snark and the peeling wallpaper of his trailer, Chris’s place felt… safe.

“Whatever,” she muttered, grabbing a handful of fries.

They watched the episode in silence for a while, the tension between them softening into something almost comfortable again. But as the credits rolled, Chris spoke, his voice quieter than usual.

“What…what was that earlier,” he said, not looking at her.

Star stiffened, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “What was what earlier?”

His jaw shifted, like he was debating whether to say it. Finally, he turned his head to meet her gaze, his expression unreadable. “You almost kissed me.”

Her face burned. “I—what? No, I didn’t!”

Chris arched an eyebrow, leaning slightly closer. “You sure about that?”

The air between them grew heavier, the space on the couch suddenly feeling much too small. Star swallowed hard, her pulse quickening as she held his gaze.

“Well, if I did,” she said, trying to sound casual, “you almost…did it back.”

He didn’t deny it. Instead, his eyes flicked down to her lips, just for a second, before meeting hers again.

For a moment, it felt like they were back on the ground outside, the rest of the world fading away as gravity pulled them closer.

But then, from the hallway, Lila’s small voice rang out again.

“Chris? Can I have water?”

Chris sighed, breaking eye contact as he stood up. “Yeah, I got it,” he called, his tone softer than usual.

Star exhaled, her shoulders slumping as the tension dissolved into the air. She stared at the TV, her fries forgotten, as Chris disappeared into the kitchen to help his sister.

When he came back, he sat down beside her without a word, grabbing another slice of pizza.

“Chris,” she said after a long pause, her voice quieter now.

He glanced at her, chewing lazily. “Yeah?”

She hesitated, her fingers twisting in the hem of her hoodie. “Never mind.”

Chris studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he leaned back, grabbing the remote again. “You’re weird,” he muttered, though there was no edge to his voice.

Star rolled her eyes, pulling her knees to her chest as the next episode started. But despite the casual banter, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something between them had shifted.

Neither of them said anything more about it, but as the night stretched on, Chris stayed just a little closer to her on the couch, his shoulder brushing hers every now and then.

The glow of the TV flickered softly across the living room, the chaos of Rick and Morty still playing, though Star hadn’t laughed in a while. Chris glanced over, noticing her head drooping slightly, her knees pulled to her chest. Her eyelids fluttered shut, the stubbornness that usually lit up her expression now replaced by something softer, more unguarded.

“Star,” Chris muttered, nudging her leg with his foot.

She mumbled something incoherent, barely stirring.

He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. The night had already been a whirlwind—her almost falling off the roof, the tension of their moment on the ground, and now this. Yet here she was, passed out on his couch like it was her own home.

Chris stood, stretching before leaning down to scoop up the half-empty plate of fries on her lap. He set it on the coffee table, shaking his head. “You really can’t hang, can you?” he muttered under his breath, though his voice lacked any real bite.

Star whimpered lightly but didn’t wake. Chris hesitated, his hands twitching at his sides as he debated whether to just leave her there. But something about the thought of her waking up in an uncomfortable position, complaining about her back for the next week, pushed him to act.

He bent down, sliding an arm under her legs and another behind her back. She stirred slightly as he lifted her, her body instinctively curling into his chest. Her head lolled against him, nestling into the crook of his shoulder, and Chris froze mid-step.

Her soft breath tickled his neck as she adjusted again, snuggling closer, completely unaware of what she was doing. His heart stuttered in a way he wasn’t used to, an unfamiliar warmth blooming low in his stomach.

“Damn it, Kid,” he muttered under his breath, though there was no malice in his tone.

She mumbled something incoherent again, her arm curling loosely against his chest like she belonged there. It was so unlike her usual sharp edges, her endless teasing and snarky comments. Like this, she was… soft. Vulnerable. The part of her she didn’t let the world see.

Chris carried her down the narrow hallway to his room, his movements careful and deliberate, as if afraid to wake her. The soft creak of his bedroom door greeted him as he nudged it open with his foot. Moonlight spilled in through the window, casting a faint glow over the small, familiar space.

As he lowered her onto the bed, she stirred, her head shifting slightly. For a brief moment, he thought she’d wake, but she just sighed, curling into herself instinctively.

Chris lingered, crouched beside the bed, watching the way her face relaxed, her lips slightly parted as she fell deeper into sleep. The faintest furrow creased his brow as he studied her, caught between the familiarity of her presence and the strange, twisting feelings in his chest.

She shifted again, burrowing deeper into the blankets as her arm stretched out toward the space where he usually slept. He swallowed hard, rubbing the back of his neck as he stared at the pillow he always placed between them. The unspoken rule—his own attempt to avoid another awkward morning of waking up to find her tangled around him.

But now, as he watched her, those feelings from earlier returned—the strange pull, the warmth that made him feel more unsettled than he wanted to admit.

Chris dropped the pillow.

He stood there for another moment, his gaze lingering on her soft features before he climbed into the bed beside her. He stayed on his side at first, stiff and unsure, leaning back against the headboard.

But when her arm instinctively draped across his stomach and her head found his shoulder again, he didn’t pull away.

For a while, he just lays there, staring up at the ceiling, her even breaths filling the quiet space around them. The barrier was gone, and something in him—something unspoken—decided it didn’t need to come back.

AUTHORS NOTE: i love him. i literally LOVE him. my sweet angel boy. that’s all.

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