#<- what im calling their band :3

[kalcifers-blog]

In the process of drawing a proper line up of The Girls!!!!!

[actuallytalldumbass]

[bucephaly]

It's kinda shocking to me how few people seem to know how prevalent the 'my great grandmother was cherokee' myth is and how it's almost never actually true, especially when it comes with things like 'never signed up' or 'fell off the trail' or 'courthouse burned down destorying the documentation' etc etc.

People just don't even seem to know the history like.. when the Trail happened. My great great great grandfather was 2 years old during Removal in 1838, so peoples 'my great grandmother hid in the mountains!' is so clearly wrong. And we have rolls. From before and after removal, rolls done by cherokee nation and others by the government, rolls that were not stored in one random flammable courthouse. It's not difficult to find the actual evidence of ancestry.

And just.. there are lots of ways those family stories get started. It was a practice during the confederacy to claim cherokee ancestry to show one's family had 'deep roots in the south' that they were there before the cherokee were removed. Many people pretended to be cherokee and applied for the Guion-Miller payout just to try to steal money meant for cherokees - 2/3rds of the applicants were denied for having 0 proof of actual cherokee ancestry. [We even see lawyers advertising signing up for the Miller roll just to try to get free money.] And the myth even started in some families in the cherokee land lotteries, where the land stolen from us was raffled off, including the house and everything that was left behind when the cherokees were removed. We have seen people whose families just take these things stolen from the cherokee family and adopt them into their own family story, saying that they were cherokee themselves.

If you had some family story about being cherokee and you wanna have proof one way or the other, check out this Facebook group run by expert cherokee genealogists that do research for free. Just please read the rules fully and respect the researchers. They run thousands of people's ancestries a year and their average is only around 0.7% of lines they run actually end up having true cherokee ancestry.

[ulteri0rm0tives]

....and if I said I wanted Johnny and Kerry in the messiest divorce arc since Paul McCartney and John Lennon.. what then...

[ryssbelle]

Shockothan Dory

[caramelmochacrow]

"Are you ready?"

[1nm806]

jackie did i ever talk to you abt my sprace musician fic

im sure i have at some point

uve told me about the spot is in a band and race comes to see it one?

[paul-newmans-sauce]

a better call saul fic on ao3 introduced me to the tragedy that is the band Her's and i will never fucking forgive it for that

[possum-tooth]

got a bunch of vinyls from my coworker today including fucking quadrophenia. like are you joking me

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

Key to my heart [prologue]

🎤— yan!saja boys x fem!reader x yan!male!huntrix

— synopsis: you were never meant to be a hunter. You were supposed to be a symbol— the key to the demon gate, the girl destined to seal away darkness once and for all. But, when the power inside of you refuses to obey, you chose a different path: to fight alongside the Huntrix, the only family you’ve ever known.

One stage, Huntrix are stars. Off stage they are slayers of demons— and fiercely protective of the girl fate calls their weapon. Ruen, Miran, and Zio… each with their own way of watching you. Each with secrets that they’ll never let you uncover. And as the gates begin to stir and a new group reveals themselves to try and bring damnation to the mortal world they become just as protective as the Huntrix over you.

As the gates begin to stir and your powers awaken in dangerous, unnatural ways, you find yourself pulled into something deeper than the prophecy.

You are the key. But to what— salvation or ruin— depends on who gets to you first.

— warning: EVENTUAL SMUT, cursing, yandere tropes, blood, killing demons, Celine, Gwi-ma lowkey being better than Celine, hatred between both boy bands, longing, we’ll see if I have the ability to write angst, weapons, bad flirting, good flirting, Baby being a brat

— A/n: ok, so Huntrix is now dudes and they are literally the exact same. This is my attempt at a prologue, idk how I feel about it but I am going to be posting the actual first chapter where we meet the saja boys and actually dive deeper into our relationship with Huntrix. NEYA IS JUST A STAGE NAME, THIS IS NOT AN OC STORY IM JUST USING NEYA FOR WHEN SHE IS ON STAGE BASICALLY.

[0] [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]

[15 years ago]

The screams came first.

Not yours.

Not yet.

You remembered the way the air froze before it happened— how the lights in your little house flickered as if they were afraid. The floorboards had creaked beneath heavy, inhuman footsteps. Then the shadows peeled opened and the demon stepped out; tall, horned, smiling.

Your mother whispered your name one last time. Father had ran toward the thing that would later kill him, in one last desperate attempt to protect his family.

You didn’t call out, didn’t cry — just ran. Bare feet slapped the wood floor as you flung open the front door and took off, heart pounding against you tiny ribs like it was trying to escape.

As you ran away from your home, you could still see the blue light that flowed smoothly from your parents body’s and into the mouth of the monster. How it drank it up with a sickening smile and look of hunger in its eyes.

And you knew, even as you’d never looked back at your mother and father, that their bodies were empty. That whatever that creature took from them had killed them with no remorse or regard for anything but itself.

You’d run for hours. Through streets. Through alleys. Through rain.

The city never notice you.

It never did notice children like you, the ones that were in dire need of help and reassurance from someone or something.

By the time the sun had rose, your legs had given out. You laid on the rough concrete of a back alley, throat raw from crying. You had no one. No home. No parents. No stories before bedtime, or a warm hug while someone told you it was all going to be okay. You had nothing, and now, you had no where to go.

You were unsure how long you stayed there on the ground. How long your tummy would rumble in hunger or how long your mouth stayed dry until it rained again. And you especially didn’t know when she came.

The woman stood with the confidence of a model and business woman, with jet black hair and well kept blouse and pants as she had looked down at you in the little alley and refused to leave until you’d spoke to her.

“We’ve been looking you.” She’d told you, voice kept even and simple to not spoke you away from her.

At that you’d looked up, eyes welling up with a fresh set of tears as hope filled your chest. “We’ve?” You repeated, sitting up straighter. “Has my mom and dad been looking for me?”

The woman’s face didn’t change, but you could see the pity look she had given you. “No, my child.” She crouched down to your level. “They are in a far better place than this world has to offer.”

You’d begun to cry again, this time softer than it had been the past few days but now that you’d heard the words ring true it didn’t help stop them.

“It’s alright,” the woman continued, patting down your unkept hair to try and calm you down. “You’ll come live with me now, I’ll teach you everything you have to know to be a key. And you’ll work alongside others that are going to help you.”

You glanced at her, confused by her words. “Why did you call me a key?”

“Because that’s what you are.” She placed a hand beneath your arms pits and hoisted you off the ground and onto your feet. “There is a door between our world and hell. It doesn’t open with magic or blood— not even death. It opens with you. Your soul is the only thing that can unlock it— or seal it shut.”

You sniffled, whipping your nose on the back of you hand. “Why would I do that?”

“Because, that thing that killed your parents is a demon. And in order to protect other little girls from ending up like you, you’ll have to close the gates and stop the demons from reaching us.”

Your lips parted, throat closed.

“I don’t want to,” you whispered. “I didn’t ask for this.”

Celine’s smile was sad. “Most of us don’t.”

For a moment, the silence crackled like a warning. Then Celine’s eyes softened.

“You can still choose. What you do with your gift — whether to open the gate or keep it shut — that choice will always be yours. But you must learn to control it. Or others will try to control you.”

You didn’t know it yet, but you would never forget those words.

Because years from now, two very different groups of men would try to do exactly that.

And all of them would claim they loved you.

“Neya!”

“Neya!”

“Neya!”

The crowd before you chanted, each shout sent a prideful buzz through your body. No matter how many times you’d hear it, be it every night or once a week, you’d still never get over the rush you’d get just when you realized that thousands upon thousands of people loved you.

They weren’t here for Huntrix or any other K-pop group— no, they were here for you. To watch you. To hear you. To feel your other worldly presence as you danced and sung up on the stage.

It was unreal and you wouldn’t give the world for anything different.

But as unreal and amazing as the feeling was, it did have to come to an end. With one last wave to the crowd you turn away and let the curtain fall behind you, your team already upon you to help take off your mic and give you some water.

“Thank you,” you had told them, your smile still gracing your lips as you could still hear all of your fans even as you walked away. “I can take it from here.”

They then dispersed, off to take care of other matters before they clocked out for the day while you made your way to the dressing room. The second you door shut behind you a squeal of excitement escaped your lips as you jumped up and down briefly before calming yourself down.

You could feel the surge of power that came from tonight’s concert, the power that you knew would help you and your boys with closing the gates of hell once and for all.

Speaking of your boys; a ding chimed from your phone, messages from all three of them appeared on your Lock Screen. Each congratulating you on your performance and that can’t wait to see you back home.

You sent a quick thank you and kissy emojis before placing your phone back on the dresser. Your smile was still evident on your face but it had dimmed a bit now that the high of the concert was slowly leaving your body.

But you still couldn’t shake the feeling you got when you were with the crowd. You’d felt it before— when you’d perform with Huntrix. But you’d never been able to cause a ripple such as that one yourself.

Maybe now you’d be able to do your part. Maybe now you’d be able to close the barrier that separated your world and the demons.

You glanced up at the ceiling, even through the tough roof that stood above you, you could still feel the gates above. You could still feel the demons pouring from the little cracks and running off to go feast on undeserving humans.

A hand came up and clutched your chest, feeling where a deep ache had surged deep within yourself.

Soon. You’d told yourself, turning away from the slab of cement and facing the mirror before you. Soon.

—A/a/n: I know I literally just posted a whole separate saja boys fic, but this one has been on my mind recently and I needed to write it down before I forgot it all. But I do plan on making this around a ten chapter story and (hopefully) I will actually stick to a schedule and give yall what yall want in time. ;)

[phagodyke]

ykw im realising I do actually listen to a decent amt of gothic rock but ive always identified the goth-leaning stuff i like as darkwave/ coldwave/post-punk instead cuz it overlaps heavily w those genres....

[juicylici0us]

your idol (kpop demon hunters au) !

JUICY ORDER. in a world where demons take souls from humans, it is up to you and your two friends to ensure that the deepspace continues to prevent them from taking people’s souls as you own the stage as the famous huntr/x with killer voices (and weapons). however, what happens when the demons you’ve come to hate have come up with a new strategy… with five irresistible men no less? (or, kpop demon hunters au wherein the men are your not so average boy band that plans to take away your fans and their souls).

INGREDIENTS. zayne x fem!reader, xavier x fem!reader, rafayel x fem!reader, sylus x fem!reader, and caleb x fem!reader

TOPPINGS. sfw, cheesy but idc, kpop demon hunters au, idol!au, spoiler-free, possibly ooc, lots of cursing, grammar errors (bear with me), fem!reader, non-mc!reader, reader’s kinda a simp here, fighting, this doesn’t follow the story of kpop demon hunters!

WORD COUNT. 7.3k words (1k-2k per character)

JUICY’S NOTE. hi im new here, pls dont bite me ( >_< ) ! i fell in love with kpop demon hunters as soon as their trailer dropped, and i fell even more in love after watching their movie, so i thought it’d be amazing to mix two of my favorite things into one since i got giddy with the idea of the lads men as the saja boys. friendly reminder that this is purely my take <3 !

For generations, many people before you had taken the roles as hunters who upheld their duties and voices which ignited the souls of the people and brought them together, creating the deepspace. The deepspace is a powerful shield created by the first generation of hunters that protects humans from demons, whose sole priority is to steal their souls and bring them to their ruler, Astra, who feeds on human souls for power.

Since then, each generation contains a trio of hunters who are chosen to maintain their ultimate duty in protecting the world from demons, and strengthening the deepspace into a golden shield that can seal the demons for good until the next generation comes.

In this generation, you were chosen as one of the hunters.

Your group is known to the world as HUNTR/X, a famous girl group known for their killer voices and heartwarming friendship that won Linkon’s hearts. Each one of you had a role to fill as an idol in your group, with Tara being the lyricist and rapper, MC being the choreographer, and you being the lead vocalist of the group. You’ve grown up with your dear friends as the three of you swore to always protect and cherish your fans from demons.

Just as the three of you thought you were so close to getting the deepspace turning golden, Astra had a different plan up on his sleeves.

Before you knew it, a new boy band had recently gone viral and broke Linkon.

They call themselves LUC1D, the newest, juiciest, and most handsome boy band that recently debuted with their new hot hit: Soda Pop! Fans instantly fell in love with each member of the group, and it’s clear that the group had everyone wrapped around their little finger as they sky-rocket through the charts, taking your group’s place as the current number one group in Linkon.

But you and your friends instantly knew there was more to that.

While everyone believed they were just another handsome boy band with killer looks and charming personalities, the three of you knew they were demons with the way their marks sometimes show during their performances. They were not after your fans’ hearts, but rather, their souls. Over your dead bodies!

While MC and Tara swore that those pretty faces won’t get their hands on the fans and ruin the deepspace, you on the other hand had conflicting thoughts.

Why the hell are they so hot?!

You can’t lie, Astra did well in bringing the men to the world—who could even resist those walking temptations?! Even Jenna, your manager, had to admit that they were good. Too good.

It didn’t help that your friends are almost—keyword almost—as charmed by them as you are, but they were quick to get their head out of the gutter and focus on the serious danger everyone’s in. In a way, it makes you feel determined, wanting to prioritize the people and the deepspace just as your friends do. After all, the boy band are demons with no feelings, so there’s no way you’d lose yourself to their charms!

Then again… While your friends are planning a way to get rid of the threat, it won’t hurt to… get to know your enemies, right?

RAFAYEL was the first one from the group to approach you.

He’s the sub-vocal of LUC1D, the one who thrives off fan service like it’s the very air he breathes. Known to the world as the romantic prince of the group, Rafayel carries an effortless glow, that soft, ethereal charm that makes fans lose their minds the moment he so much as blinks.

A finger heart? Viral.

A pout? Screams.

A wink? Global meltdown. Cars are crashing, people are fainting, and you already see billboards of his stupid wink.

You couldn’t blame the fans. No one could. The man was made for the camera, a romance personified in Prada and stage glitter. He drank in attention like wine, tossing hearts into crowds, taking selfies with fans like they were all his lovers, and performing like he was serenading each soul personally. His voice? Velvet-warm and criminally smooth. It didn’t matter if they were women, men, or anything in between—he made them swoon.

Too good to be true.

And almost—almost—enough to fool you, until that first backstage encounter.

It was during your group’s first lineup with LUC1D. Your team was getting ready to chase them down (in the literal sense) when he came towards you with a polite smile, holding something in his hand.

“You dropped this,” he said, offering your bracelet with that kind, glittering gaze that could almost shine you blindly.

Huh. You hadn’t even realized it was gone. You reached out to take it, but before you could thank him, he suddenly grabbed your wrist and pulled you just close enough for your breath to hitch.

Oh god. Was this a K-drama moment? Was he going to confess under the spotlight or—?

“Your fans screamed louder for me than they did for your group,” he whispered, his tone playful but his eyes held something more. “Can’t wait to see how long it takes before I steal their souls from you.”

And just like that, he was gone, catching up to his group with a lazy wave, leaving you standing there with your bracelet, your pride, and… well, a fast-paced heartbeat.

Oh my god. He’s such a little shit!

And it didn’t stop there.

Since that encounter, every time your groups shared a stage, Rafayel made it his personal mission to seek you out. Behind curtains, off-camera, always when the staff weren’t looking—there he’d be, grinning that infuriating grin, teasing you like it was his life’s work.

He posted lyrics from your songs on his socials. He quoted your interviews. He winked at your fan cams. And worst of all? He never let you forget it.

“You should thank me, I brought traffic to your stage.”

“If you want a collab, just say so. You know I love taking people’s attention away.”

MC and Tara were ready to fight him on sight by week two. If not for the backstage crew being witnesses, he’d probably be laid out on the floor already with MC’s bullets on his chest. Not that your group didn’t try, the number of times you’ve chased them down is enough to start a yt channel, and that certainly would’ve gone viral.

This chase however, was much different than the others.

It was after yet another variety show when your group decided to track LUC1D to a bathhouse, only to get ambushed by water demons in the men’s bathhouse. As soon as chaos broke out and steam clouded the air, they all had slipped away—except one.

Rafayel stayed behind.

“You little—!” MC yelled, aiming her pistols at him. But he was gone before the trigger could pull, sliding into puddles and soaking into steam, completely in his element (literally!).

Unfortunately for you, being as unlucky as you are, slipped and fell backward into a suspiciously deep hot tub.

Panic surged through you instantly when you realized you were sinking into the hot tub that isn’t normal.

It felt like sinking into the ocean. You couldn’t see the bottom. Couldn’t find the surface. Your body weighed down, air leaving your lungs—

And then… arms.

Warm. Familiar. Strong.

Rafayel held you underwater, his eyes glowing deep blue instead of their usual soft-bluish pink hue. There was no smile on his face this time. No teasing words. Just something achingly serious behind his stare, something you couldn’t decode. Like he was hiding you. Or protecting you.

Why the hell weren’t you drowning and dying already? Why is Rafayel saving you instead of drowning you?

Questions flooded in your head, still looking into his eyes with an awe look as he pulled you up to the surface with him. You gasped and crawled out, coughing up water and adrenaline, ignoring the demon you should be fighting—because that demon just saved your life.

He followed behind you, soaking wet and still disgustingly beautiful, tugging his top back down like nothing happened.

“Don’t look at me like that, cutie,” he said with a wink. “I might start to think you’ve fallen for me.”

Your jaw dropped at his audacity. But you couldn't find the heart to retort, not when he saved you from drowning and embarrassingly die in a bathhouse.

“Keep this a secret, yeah? Don’t want the fans to get dizzy with this.”

Then he turned on his heel and sprinted out the door, leaving you blinking in disbelief.

That was all he left you with.

Falling? As if.

But slipping?

Yeah. You were already halfway there.

You let out a soft groan and forced yourself to your feet, still catching your breath. You had to get back before Tara and MC declared you missing.

Because god forbid they find out who just saved you. Or worse, how you felt about it.

SYLUS was the second member to approach you.

The sub dancer and visuals of the group was one of the first members that instantly caught your eye, and who could blame you? He was the tallest, beefiest, and most jaw-droppingly sculpted man you’d ever seen, with a body that looked like it was a sculpture of some war god. You almost drooled when you saw him for the first time, unaware of his identity until later.

He’s the second person besides Rafayel who feeds on fan service. The only difference is while Rafayel is the beautiful siren of the group, Sylus is the beast. His body rolls were downright illegal, his abs made public appearances like they were charting hits, and he had the nerve to growl during his verses, always with that smug look on his face. He just loves the attention.

It didn’t help that he’s one of the fan-favorites. Cameras loved him. Your fans were betraying you left and right. Even grandmas were thirsting in the comments. If he does so much as to flex his arms while wearing a sleeveless outfit, the crowd will instantly go into cardiac arrest, global warming will somewhat get worse with how hot he was, and police are searching for his ass for being a lady-killer (and for also breaking multiple traffic laws when going on a joyride with his motorbike).

And don’t even get started on PR. It’s known that he was the troublemaker of the group. Always breaking protocols as he often does things that an idol shouldn’t be doing, like leaving mid-interview to the bathroom, removing his shirt to throw it at the crowd for them to catch, and worse, getting stopped by a police officer while on the road with people around to see. PR hated to see him coming, but LUC1D didn’t seem to care.

It’s a miracle that Linkon hasn’t cancelled him. Then again, it’s probably the demon magic that’s stopping them.

The worst part is the fact that he knows the effect he has on people. His confidence radiates off of his performances and the interviews he’s in. Even when he’s the member that doesn’t have the most lines and spotlight, he always stood out. He just has that aura that’s alluring to people, a walking temptation and the forbidden fruit that you shouldn’t turn to.

He’s dangerous that way, ignoring the fact that he’s a demon, and he knows that.

And he also knows where you work out.

“My, what a surprise,” You instantly flinched when you heard that achingly smooth and deep purr that’s all too familiar to you, almost slipping off from your treadmill.

When you turned, you had to hold your jaw from dropping at the sight of Sylus in his full glory, wearing a fitted black top that hugs his muscular body, with matching black athletic shorts and dark red fingerless gloves suitable for a workout.

“I didn’t know we signed in to the same gym membership.” He said with a knowing smirk, crossing his arms that hugs his sculpted chest—

He’s too hot! Too hot!

You quickly composed yourself, looking away from him. You continue to walk on the treadmill, trying not to act like you’re losing your shit at the sight of him. “As if. You’re just asking to get killed by my weapons with how you’re not bothering to run away.”

He chuckled at that, and you almost slipped again with how rich it sounds. “Why should I when you’re too distracted staring at the ground while walking so… profusely?” He teased, shamelessly watching you work out. “Besides, you have people watching nearby.”

He wasn't wrong, and he wasn’t exactly subtle. Sylus made it his daily mission to taunt you. He’d lean just a little too close to fans, whisper sweet nothings you couldn’t hear, then glance at you to see if you’d react. He never took a soul—but he got dangerously close, like he wanted you to watch.

God, he was so annoying.

You hated that you could never know when he was playing with you and when he wasn’t. And that terrified you.

Still, you had a routine. Every time you two were alone post-workout, you'd chase him. And he’d run—grinning, dodging, mocking—as if the whole thing were a game. You could never catch him, and that only made you want to do more.

Then came the night of the subway tunnel.

Your team had cornered LUC1D, prepared for a clean takedown on top of a running train—until they summoned backup. As demons swarmed, the boys slipped through a trapdoor and you chased them down alone. Your boots hit the metal floor of the empty underground train car, your weapon ready, your heart pounding.

Only one person stood inside.

Sylus.

“Just me and you again, Miss Hunter.”

The train kept moving. The overhead lights dimmed to blood red, humming low like a heartbeat.

You didn’t wait.

You lunged.

The fight was brutal. Swift. Teeth-gritting. He dodged, blocked, parried with the grace of a beast who knew exactly how far you’d go—and how close you could get before losing.

He was toying with you again.

“You’re fast,” he muttered after a near miss. “But you’re predictable.”

You swung again. Missed.

He caught your wrist, yanked you toward him, but you twisted mid-air and landed behind him. Your knee drove into his back, and with a sharp pivot, you shoved him forward—hard.

He fell.

You didn’t waste it.

You straddled his back, arm pressing your blade against his neck. The edge barely grazed skin.

“Move,” you hissed, “and I’ll end it here.”

But he didn’t move.

He didn’t struggle. Didn’t laugh. Didn’t even breathe like he was scared.

Instead, he tilted his head just enough to look back at you, that unreadable glint in his crimson eyes.

“Well?” he said. “What are you waiting for?”

You held your breath.

“Hunters don’t hesitate,” he said again, quieter this time, voice stripped of arrogance. “We’re just meat to you, right? Apathetic. Empty. Killable.”

You blinked.

“I’m giving you what you want,” he said. “What you were trained for. What you crave.”

“Crave?” You whispered.

He stared at you with such devastating calm that it made your fingers twitch. “You want peace, right? Closure? Righteousness? Then do it.”

You hesitated. Every fiber in your body screamed that something was wrong.

But your weapon stayed firm. Shaking, yes—but firm.

He provoked you more, taunting. “How can you face the rest of us when you’re hesitating to even kill me?”

And then, something inside you snapped. His voice. His eyes. The way he was looking at you like he meant it.

So you did it.

You drove your blade down—

And he vanished.

Gone.

Your hands sank into nothing but air.

The floor beneath you suddenly jolted. The cabin lit back to normal white, no longer drenched in that blood-washed red.

You stared around.

He was never there.

No blood. No Sylus. Just the echo of your gasping breath and the violent pounding of your heart.

It was a hallucination.

An illusion.

He made you think you got him.

You blinked—and gasped.

You weren’t alone anymore.

“Oh my god, it’s a member of HUNTR/X!” A fan screamed.

Phones flew up. Flashlights blinded you. You were surrounded.

Oh crap.

Meanwhile, Sylus was able to return to the Underworld, where he was instantly greeted by the angry flames of Astra himself.

“You dare to make a fool out of me?!” The demon king yelled. “You let a hunter go away unscathed, and you didn’t try to take the passengers’ souls in that damned vehicle?! Just because you’re part of the group that’s destroying the deepspace doesn’t mean you can get away from any theatrics that you’re pulling!”

Sylus huffs.

“I thought I made it clear that I had no interest in stealing souls in this one.” He spoke boredly. “I’m just in this group for the sake of a new environment.”

“More like a familiar face.” Astra seethed, and Sylus gasped as his mind cracked—memories flooding in, shattering his walls. He collapsed to his knees, groaning in pain.

“I know what you’re trying to do.” The demon ruler spoke, watching as Sylus crumbles from the painful memories. “And you seem to have forgotten my capabilities and what I can do with it.”

Before Sylus could make a retort despite the struggle, the ruler interrupted him harshly with a reminder, “you were chosen to be a part of your group for a reason. Deliver me souls. Break the deepspace—

Give me the Overworld, then I’ll erase what you so desperately want to forget.”

No one dared to stop Astra from tormenting Sylus more—they knew their place, and they knew that the troublemaker had gone too far.

For the first time, LUC1D watched as their group members trembled. None of the group knew what had happened to him that led him to serve under Astra, all they knew was it was something he refused to share—

And unbeknownst to everyone, a part of Sylus refused to forget.

XAVIER… Well, you honestly expected that he was the least of your problems.

He’s known as the youngest member and the lead rapper of the group, the one everyone treats like the soft, squishy cinnamon roll. He had those sweet round blue eyes, cheeks like a hamster’s, and a blinding smile that probably had the power to solve world peace and reset your credit score.

There’s just something about him—this glowy, innocent aura that made him seem like he was born to be adored.

Unlike certain members who flaunted their charm or flirted like it was their full-time job, Xavier didn’t even try. He had this calm, almost blank expression in front of cameras that fans mistook for shyness. It only made him more dangerous, if anything. People wanted to pinch his cheeks, give him plushies, or post things like “I’d die for him 🥺” online without knowing a damn thing about him. You thought he was the harmless one. The type who’d run away instead of fight.

A big mistake, really.

Imagine you and your group’s shock when you first listened to one of their tracks, hearing Xavier’s verse that could make even the most stoic bodyguard blush. It’s no wonder why he’s part of the group. He’s not just a baby, he’s a nasty freak!

He equally stands out with his other members and is downright suitable for LUC1D of all groups, being able to not only make fans adore him, but also go wild with his verses. A perfect member for their so-called perfect boy band.

His interactions are just as shocking as his verses.

He approached you one time after finishing a joint interview with the group, wearing the cutest bunny-printed hoodie, bouncing on his steps like he was going to ask you if you have games on your phone. He had that same blank-but-sweet look in his eyes, a little awkward smile on his lips.

“Since you admitted to listening to one of our tracks, which one was it?” He began innocently. You couldn’t help but squint slightly from how bright he was. Has he always glowed this bright?!

“Uhm.. I listened to Feverish Attempts.” You answered, though guarded, wondering where he was going with the conversation.

He beamed, the awkwardness disappearing when he heard the track name, “Oh, do you like my verse then? The one about pulling hair and whispering things in the dark?”

You blinked a few times, caught off guard. “Wha–?”

Before you could recover, one of the members of the group, Caleb, called Xavier as the group is taking their leave from backstage, causing the man in front of you to give a mean glare at Caleb’s direction—

Wait, a glare?

“Prick.” He cursed quietly, but it was loud enough for you to hear, causing you to flinch in surprise. Where was the awkward attitude?

Xavier then looked at you, his blank sweet look now returning. “That song’s my favorite. I’m glad you like it.” He commented, ignoring the way you looked flabbergasted as he gently patted your shoulder.

“I hope you think of me the next time you hear it. I know you will.”

And that little shit bounced away.

What the hell?

What the hell?

You stood there, stunned, as MC and Tara rushed over to ask what he said. And all you could do was process the horrifying truth: Xavier was not the harmless one. He was another two-faced demon in cute packaging. The worst kind. Because unlike the others, Xavier was convincing. His façade? Practically Oscar-worthy.

He bowed politely at every award show. Thanked fans sweetly after every stage. Compliment your group on your vocals post-performance—and then dragged you all to hell and back on a private burner account that only he and Satan himself had access to.

He was a two-faced little shit in cute hoodies. And he’s not ashamed of it.

He’s even more shameless when it was just the two of you, and that’s when you’re usually sleeping.

Perks of being a dream demon.

You find yourself back to the same empty cafe that had sun rays from its windows, and sitting by the window with his feet swinging under the booth seat was none other than Xavier, looking way too happy to see you.

“You’re cute when you sleep.” He spoke up, patting the seat next to him for you to sit on.

Much to his dismay, you chose to sit across from him instead. “Why are you in my dreams again? Do you really want to get your ass kicked?” You questioned. You just wanted to sleep and dream off, but no, these demons just can’t give you a peace of mind even in your sleep!

Xavier only tilted his head. “I just want to see you. And I like it here. Here, there’s no friends, no cameras, no fans, and no rules. Just us and this peaceful café.” He pointed.

“And manipulation.” You quickly added.

He made no reaction to that. “That too. I made sure the atmosphere is suitable for you. Peaceful, quiet, and cute.”

You didn’t like that he was too calm. Too tender. As if he had been talking to you for as long as you could remember.

“How can you expect me to relax when you’re manipulating my dreams?” You pointed, feeling uneasy. It’s different when you’ve interacted with some of his members, at least you could defend yourself and fight them off. In this case, you felt completely helpless and defenseless with how Xavier has complete control of your dreams.

He continues to stay calm, never wavering. In here, the mean look or the cutesy demeanor that you’ve known from him is gone. It’s just Xavier and his… calm self. “Would it make you feel better if I said no?” He asked sweetly.

You dared not to answer. Somehow, even when he acts like this—even if this is his real self—there was a hint of something dark and ancient underneath that calmness, a reminder that he’s still a demon with no feelings.

“I always wanted to talk to you, you know.” Xavier spoke, leaning on his hand as he stared at you—stared into your soul. “You’re my favorite member, did you know that? I also listen to your tracks.”

His eyes slightly narrow, a glint of something dark in those blue eyes. “I don’t like your other friends. They always try to hurt me or say mean things when I approach them.”

“That’s because you’re a demon.” You quickly defended your friends.

The glint in his eyes went away immediately, humming thoughtfully. “That much is true, and you’re a hunter who can’t even attack me.”

Your eyes narrowed, and before you could defend yourself, he interrupted you immediately, “You hunters are always eager to chase demons down and take them out.”

He then slowly stands, still staring into your soul. “But do you ever wonder what it’s like to be caught?”

Your breath hitched.

The whole café shattered.

All that’s left is pure nothingness, just a void, and you stared at Xavier with your guard up. What is he going to do? Is he going to give you messed up nightmares? Or worse, go after your friends—?

You lost your thoughts when you felt him cupping your cheek.

“...I won’t hurt you.” He said, the smile no longer plastered on his face as he stared down at you, as if reading into your soul. “I really mean it when I said I want to see you.”

You didn’t reply, swallowing hard.

The way he touched your cheek made you feel something. Familiar. Familiar from somewhere that’s far from this reality.

Your heartbeat fastens when he leaned in closer, his lips just a breath away as you hear the faint sounds of your alarm.

“I’ll see you soon,” he whispered, before letting you go as he took a few steps back, “I hope that when we do, you’re ready to remember.”

Then you woke up. Your heart’s racing, hands clammy, and you feel almost dizzy from more questions about the boy band.

Remember what?

You’ve come to learn that ZAYNE is the leader of the group. But you wouldn’t guessed it at first.

He’s the mysterious one. The ice prince who always shows up on billboards with his hollow cheekbones, sharp jawline, and mesmerizing hazel green eyes, holding that cold look on his face that looks like they’ve seen things no human should. He’s different from the rest of the group—quiet, formal, never showing a smile. It’s what draws fans in to him, the dark horse of the group that works behind the scenes.

You didn’t think that he was the leader, not when he was so… cold and rarely spoke. While others played their parts by being flirty, freaky, playful, sinful, and sweet, Zayne was just.. There. He doesn’t flirt, make cute hand gestures, nor bother with the fan service. There’s something with the way he carries himself—poised, calculated, graceful, untouchable.

If the rest of the group was born to perform, Zayne was born to command. Quietly. He has a focused look on his face when dancing, and though he’s the main dancer, he doesn’t perform like he’s dancing. He performs like he’s fighting, with movements that feel sharp, precise and lethal–just like his lethal face card.

Yes, he’s cold, but that’s what makes the fans love him more. One look would make the whole comment section spiral and rant about how handsome he is, and don’t get me started on him speaking. Given his mystery, he rarely talks, and when he does, his voice is smooth and low, with just enough chill to make people go absolutely insane. People often replay videos of him talking—hell, even someone was crazy enough (but let’s face it, who isn’t crazy?) to make a one hour compilation of him just talking from multiple interviews like, “thank you” and “that’s all” and “I’m Zayne,” and label it as ASMR—that’s how soothing and dreamy his voice is.

You’re guilty for listening to it once. Just to see what the hype was.

…You fell asleep to it.

Not your proudest moment.

Out of everyone in LUC1D, he’s the hardest to read and most intimidating. Even Tara couldn’t read him or make a conclusion about what kind of demon he is.

He rarely speaks to you three and doesn’t look at you longer than necessary. If you’re in the same lineup or room, he’s already in the corner sinking into the shadows. He’s different from everyone, that much is clear. Sylus teases you, Rafayel winks at you, Xavier stalks your dreams, and Caleb.. We’ll talk about him later.. But Zayne?

He’s just there. Present, distant, and never joining.

You’ve never seen him fight nor summon anything at all. You’re starting to think that he’s not even a demon with how mysterious he is. But you just know that whenever he’s on stage, the air around him is holding its breath.

He didn’t really catch your eye, not at first.

And yet.. He was the one that made the biggest impression on you.

It was a random night. You couldn’t sleep. Another annoying dream from Xavier had left your head spinning, and you snuck out for air. The streets were quiet, the moon hanging heavy in the sky. That’s when you saw him—Zayne. Walking alone. No fans. No cameras. Just him and the silence. You thought about leaving him alone, but you feel like it was also a good opportunity to face him and see if he’s going to fight you or not.

So, you followed him down. Quiet. Careful. Watching how his footsteps barely echoed, how he looked like a ghost, but it was the least of your concern.

You didn’t hesitate when he turned a corner. You leapt forward, slamming them into the wall, weapon pressed against his neck.

He didn’t flinch, nor did he fight back.

He just stood there, trapped between your weapon and the cold wall, looking down at you as he held his breath.

And for the first time, you… saw him.

There was no rage, no fear, or signs of disinterest. In front of you is not the billboard prince. Not the icy leader of LUC1D. But a man. A demon. A being with shadows in his eyes—and something else. Something worse. His eyes were a bit wide, unreadable. But behind those eyes was vulnerability and defeat.

It was as if he was waiting for you to finish the job.

No demon tricks, no disappearing act, no cryptic or playful smiles.

Just a demon looking at you like he’s been waiting to be taken out.

You swallowed a lump in your throat. “Why aren’t you fighting back?” You whispered.

His eyes flickered to your weapon, then to your face. He still hasn’t uttered a word yet.

“...I’m tired.” He admitted, his voice slightly shaken.

You almost dropped your weapon. You don’t know how to react to his words. Tired? Can demons… really get tired? You’ve fought demons who clawed. Screamed. Cursed your name. But never one who looked at you like this. Who sounded so… human.

You could still remember MC’s caretaker, Josephine, telling you about demons and not to be empathetic towards them. They were either soulless creatures that’s meant to serve Astra for eternity, or they were once humans who made the decision into making a deal with Astra in exchange for their desires.

It’s what made you never show mercy to any of your enemies.

But looking at Zayne? You hesitated. Just what did he do that made him so… tired and sad?

Before you could open your mouth, he immediately vanished from your grasp, leaving nothing behind except the sting of the cold air and the sound of your own breath.

You didn’t tell MC or Tara about what happened that night. You didn’t even know how to. You only came home to them with their favorite ramen as when you saw them awake and waiting for you.

The only thing you knew was that Zayne had let you get that close for a reason. Whether he wanted to be caught or be free is a question that started to haunt you every time you locked eyes with him for a moment.

And if it were the latter, you will never know if he wanted to be free from you, or from himself.

The last guy was CALEB, the star of the show and the first demon that you hated.

He was talkative, friendly, and the certified K-Drama male lead that everyone wants. He’s Linkon’s golden boy. The people’s prince with a smile that launched a thousand fancams. The lead vocalist of LUC1D, the one PR teams would sell their souls for, and the man even grandmas said was “raised right.”

If charm was a weapon, this man would’ve wiped out the whole deepspace.

He’s the main face you see in every show. The one always smiling, always chatting, always thanking the staff while carrying an air that’s filled with respect and friendliness around him like he invented manners. He holds the mic more than anyone else in the group and somehow manages to sound both eloquent and sincere every single time. He carries this effortless warmth around him like he’s some Disney prince—glittering with charisma and glittering harder in HD.

His fans are the craziest.

Oh, you have never seen a more delusional, loyal, and terrifyingly creative army in your life.

There’s a girl who tattooed his signature on her thigh. There’s a grandma who knits sweaters for him and mails them to the agency every fall (and yes, he wears them). And then there’s a fan who somehow tracked down the brand of his chapstick like some FBI expert, bought seventy of them, and started a black market group chat selling them for triple the price to other fans like it’s some kind of cult relic.

You wish you were kidding.

Another fan made a Caleb shrine in her closet. You saw it once on a livestream tour video. It had fairy lights. A fog machine.

Fog. Machine.

There’s even a running joke in the fandom where fans would go: “If Caleb breathes, I bark.”

And guess what?

People actually bark.

He drops one selfie in a low-cut shirt?

Replies: “MY EYES ARE BLEEDING,” “ARREST HIM,” and the most prominent: “BARK BARK BARK.”

He sings one high note?

“He did that for me.” “Caleb made eye contact with me, I think we’re meant to be.” “Put me in the same room as him and I’ll show Linkon a real incident.”

It’s the end of the world already. You know it.

Overall, Caleb is all about sunshine, laughter, fan letters, and bouquet tosses. He’s the guy who bows a full ninety degrees, buys coffee for the crew, and casually sings like an angel reincarnated. Of course everyone loves him.

Except you. Shocking, I know.

Your first impression of him was when your group first met the boy band on a private sidewalk, where you walked out from a store with a box filled with supposed drinks that can cure your voice cracks. You were minding your own business when Caleb suddenly collided into you full-force, causing you to be knocked clean to the floor like a rag-doll.

The worst part? The little shit didn’t even help you!

Instead, he looked down at you with those sparkly dreamy eyes of his that could’ve charmed you instantly, reaching out to you ever so slowly. You thought he was reaching down to help you, so you even lifted your hand. You were ready to accept the start of your love story.

And then to your shock, he basically just wiped your existence off his jacket. Like you were the one who got in his way. The audacity?! The balls?! The absolute nerve!

Since then, Caleb’s been on your permanent hit list.

And yet somehow, everyone else seems to have missed the memo.

MC and Tara? They liked him. Like actually think he’s the least worst demon in the group! They’re both just a little too soft when it comes to his boy-next-door act—and you’re sick of it. You had a taste of your own medicine as you’ve tried warning them, telling them what he did, and despite them listening and agreeing with you, they always somehow get lost themselves to a picture of him.

It was the same picture that you framed to throw darts at it.

What’s worse is how Caleb never gives you anything to really hate him for. Every time he shows up, he’s polite. Charismatic. Maybe a little too perfect. He compliments you after performances. He waves whenever you catch his eye. He even opened doors for you three whenever you enter a room—is he even a demon at this point?

But you know what you saw.

You know he’s the same guy who dusted his shoulder after knocking you to the ground.

Now you’re stuck in an endless PR nightmare, surrounded by people enchanted by Caleb while you’re the one gremlin backstage yelling, “He’s not even that great!”

Even though… yeah, okay, he is handsome.

And talented.

And his voice does that fluttery thing to your chest when you’re not paying attention.

But you hate him. You do.

His smile still makes you react more than to Xavier’s freaky ass, Sylus’ smirks, Rafayel’s finger hearts, or even Zayne’s mysterious silence combined.

Caleb might be the heart of LUC1D, but to you?

He’s the paper cut under your nail. The pebble in your shoe.

What’s worse is that he’s always around when you least want him to be.

Literally there was that one time when you were cramping mid-rehearsal and just needed a break—and of course, Caleb walks in with two iced drinks and a halo, saying how he’s shooting next door and wanted to check up on your group. He was close enough for you to think that he was giving it to you, and you thought, maybe he’s not that bad—

“Oh,” he says sweetly, as you reach for it, “This one’s for MC. Yours is in the vending machine. I think.”

You nearly hurled your shoe at him.

He’s got the world under his spell, and somehow, you’re the only person immune.

…At least, you think you are.

Because sometimes, keyword sometimes, when the two of you pass each other backstage, you catch him looking at you. That smug, half-smile kind of look. And in your mind, he’s telling you, “I remember what I did. And I’m not sorry.”

And it pisses you off more. You hate him! But you also wanna kiss him! But you also hate him!

Then the fan signing happened.

It was supposed to be HUNTR/X’s spotlight—a solo fan event, your own moment to rise above the LUC1D shadow. But of course, they showed up. First in line. Charming as ever.

To your surprise, MC decided to offer a joint fan signing, and before you and Tara could even protest, Jenna and her crew quickly set up your table and placed more chairs around you three.

“This will boost us more,” MC explained to you and Tara, now sitting a few seats away from you both, “and if you think about it, there will be less chances for them to steal their souls when we’re next to them!”

Well, MC made a good point, that’s for sure. You honestly don’t mind sitting with the others, so long as it’s not that guy—

“Hey there.”

Shit!

You watched helplessly as Caleb sat next to you automatically, shooting you that irritating smile of his while grabbing a Sharpie near you.

“So kind of you to let us sign with you. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think your group is the most welcoming to us in the industry.” He spoke in a hushed tone, making sure only you can hear him.

You internally groaned.

You should’ve asked to sit next to Rafayel. Or even Sylus, despite his shameless habit of flexing his abs and muscles. Hell, Zayne would’ve been the best option with how quiet he is. But no—your manager had insisted it’d be “great PR” if the two lead singers sat next to each other.

Now here you were, sitting beside Linkon’s favorite golden retriever idol. The poster child of perfection, adored by fans, grandmas, and Twitter fancam editors alike.

And you hated the way he effortlessly leaned back in his chair, one hand resting lazily on the table, the other waving at fans like he wasn’t the same demon who once shoulder-checked you into the floor and didn’t apologize.

Yeah, you’re still petty about that.

“You’re pouting,” Caleb said under his breath as he leaned closer, the side of his arm brushing against yours. “It’s cute.”

You resisted the urge to stab him with your Sharpie.

Instead, you smiled sweetly at the fan in front of you, signing their photocard while completely ignoring him. Don’t engage. Don’t give him the satisfaction even when he sounds so sexy—!

But Caleb wasn’t one to be ignored.

So he provoked you more.

“You ever think about how funny this is?” he asked casually, tilting his head. “You, me, same table. Pretending for people who would lose their minds if they knew what we really are.”

You tensed.

“Don’t worry,” he added, his voice low and velvety as he reached for a fan’s album, “I’m not gonna expose you.”

You didn’t reply. Instead, you focused on smiling at the next fan and signing your name in cursive with a heart, even as your fingers tightened around your pen. You weren’t going to let him get to you, but lord knows he’s too good at being the most annoying guy!

Caleb’s grin widened. “But I do think it’s adorable that you’re still pretending. Like you’re some perfectly normal girl who just sings songs and takes cute selfies with her group.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said through your smile, thanking another fan after signing their poster.

“Oh, but you do,” he whispered, handing back the signed album while shooting another smile at a fan. “You pretend because you’re scared of what would happen if someone really saw you.”

You snapped your head toward him.

And for once, Caleb wasn’t smiling.

He was looking at you—really looking. The way no one else ever had. His eyes weren’t teasing. They weren’t playful or mocking. They were serious, intense, like he was trying to memorize you.

“You hide behind your fans. Your friends. Your makeup. Even your anger,” he said quietly. “But you’ve never really let someone see you, even your friends who are always worried about you.”

Your throat felt tight. Where is he going with this?

“And yet,” he added, “you look at me like you already know who I am.”

You blinked.

The fan in front of him stuttered something about loving him since debut. He smiled and signed their album, looking picture-perfect. Back in idol mode.

But your heart was still pounding.

Under the table, you felt something press into your hand—his hand, warm and steady, fingers brushing yours before pulling away like nothing happened.

Caleb didn’t look at you again after that. He was back to his friendly demeanor that everyone knew and loved, as if he didn’t just call out your vulnerabilities right in front of your face.

Not until the very end of the signing, when you were standing up to leave. He leaned in like he was fixing his mic earpiece, voice just barely audible over the crowd.

“I meant what I said,” he murmured. “You can keep hiding. I’ll still see it.”

“And I will love to see more.”

Before you could come up with a response, he went back to the perfect little idol he was, smiling bright and friendly for the cameras while waving to the crowd.

But your hands wouldn’t stop trembling.

You try to forget what happened, that he was just trying to get under your skin as you ignore the way some of the LUC1D members, especially Xavier, glare daggers at Caleb.

And when the signing went viral a few hours later with the caption “THEIR HANDS TOUCHED????”

You knew it was no accident.

That little shit!

[laligraves]

sweet angel agency

dark!joel miller x fem!reader

[18+] | wc: ~2.3k summary: Joel mistakes you for the escort he ordered. masterlist | AO3

warnings: dark!Joel, TLOU AU, noncon/dubcon (im so serious don't read if it makes you uncomfortable), older!joel/no outbreak, not proofread, no use of y/n or too many details on reader's appearance, reader has hair joel can pull, reader can be picked up by joel, fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n: happy october! i have these three serial killer!joel WIPs i keep jumping between but idk which one to finish 😭 so i wrote this instead lol

“No, no, no. Shit!” 

Your car emits a loud creaking sound and begins to shake. Thinking quickly, you drive into a small cul-de-sac, away from the main road and fast cars. It rolls to a stop with one final groan, shutting off completely. 

“Fuck,” you mutter, “are you kidding me?” 

You grab your phone from the center console, noticing the 3% battery, and shoot a text to your friend that you’ll be late to the Halloween party. 

It dies as you press the send button and you throw it to the passenger seat in exasperation. You look around the rows of houses. There’s a Halloween event in the city, which probably explains the lack of cars in the driveways and the turned off porch lights. 

Well, all except one. 

A pickup truck with tools and materials in the bed, is parked in the driveway of a home. The porch light is on and you can see the flicker of the TV through the closed blinds. 

You hope the family is nice enough to let you use their phone or even if by some miracle, one of them knows how to fix your car. As you step out of the car and smooth down your dress, you pray they aren’t judgmental of your outfit choice. 

It’s a tiny, silk dress complete with angel wings and thigh high stockings. You pull the dress down in an effort to cover your thighs but it only brings it down from your chest, accentuating your tits. 

With no choices left, you ring the doorbell to the house. There’s no noise aside from the crickets and the TV, until you hear the heavy thuds of boots walking towards the door. 

It swings open, revealing a tall, older man. His hair and beard have streaks of gray and his brown eyes are lined with soft wrinkles. The button down he wears stretches over his broad chest and as he leans his arm on the door, the bottom of his shirt rises to show a slight belly and a happy trail. 

In other words, he's handsome. A quick scan of his left hand shows no wedding ring. 

You give him a pretty smile, not above using your looks to get what you want. 

“Hi,” you say as you give him your name, “sorry to bother you. My car broke down and I was wondering if I could use your phone to call a tow truck?” 

His eyes do a slow sweep of your body, lingering on the lacy band of your thigh highs, then back up to your eyes, 

“Didn’t realize you came with a story.” 

Your eyebrows pinch in confusion. “Uh–story? What?” 

“And the angel costume… I guess that’s expected.” 

“May I use your phone?” you ask again.  

He pushes the front door wider, motioning for you to walk in. “It’s in the kitchen.” 

You walk inside and accidentally brush against his body. Aside from his confusing comments, the deep rumble of his voice caused goosebumps to rise on your skin. You walk into the hallway, stopping at the entrance of the living room, waiting for him to lead you to the kitchen. 

“Are you… home alone or–” 

You feel his hand snake through your hair and pull you back into his chest. His other hand slips under your dress and cups your pussy, rubbing over the thin material of your panties. 

“What the fuck–” 

You lift your hands to scratch and push him away but he only holds you tighter. 

“Stop playin’ games, little girl,” he growls, “we both know why you’re here.” 

His fingers, rough and calloused even through your panties, glide over your panty-covered slit in rough strokes. You’re frozen in his arms, unsure of what to do. 

Your heart pounds fast in your chest and you feel warmth spread through your body. 

“I don’t–please, sir–” you stutter. 

His fingers slip into your panties and you bite your lip to muffle your moan. He swirls his middle finger at your entrance, gathering the slick that’s dripped out of you, and drags it up to circle your clit. 

You gasp, the sudden jolt of pleasure taking you by surprise. 

“So fuckin’ sensitive,” he growls, “can’t wait to sink my cock in ya’, angel.” 

Your hands try to dislodge his arms from around you, but he slips his hand around your neck and squeezes, cutting off your air supply. Your wings bend in his hold and the plastic middle digs into your back. 

“I told them I wanted you to call me Joel,” he murmurs, loosening his hand to allow you to breathe, “but I like sir.” 

“What are you talking about—” 

Joel interrupts you again, ripping your panties in a stinging snap and spinning your around to face him. You teeter and almost trip on your heels, but he crouches and swings you over his shoulder. 

He brings his hand down on your ass, ordering you to stop squirming, girl, while you feel the cool air brush on your naked cunt. 

Joel walks you through the hallway and into a room, dropping you on his bed. You try to scoot away from him, but he grabs your foot and yanks you back down. 

“No, please,” you cry, “I don’t know what this is–” 

“We won’t be needing these,” he says as he slips off your heels. 

“Sir–” 

Joel grabs the top of your dress and rips it half, maneuvering your body so he can untie your wings, leaving you in nothing but your stockings. 

You don’t like the way your belly tightens with each stroke of his rough hands over your heated skin or the way your cunt drips with need every time he calls you a pretty angel. 

He laughs at your attempts to kick or shove him away, and easily overpowers you. Joel pushes your hands back and nuzzles your breasts, gliding his nose over one, sliding to the other, until he suckles a peaked nipple into his mouth. 

It gets you to stop fighting and instead you whimper in his hold, pushing your chest up so he can get more of your plump flesh into his mouth. 

He makes room for himself between your thighs, grinding down his bulge onto your bare pussy. The rough material of his jeans contrasts the softness of his mouth and your brain short circuits. 

“Always the same with you sluts,” he growls, “beggin’ me to stop but look at ya’, soakin’ my jeans.” 

Joel props himself up, giving a kiss to the tip of each breast, and holds your mouth open with rough fingers to shove your panties inside. With your now torn dress, he uses the silk to tie your hands together. 

“Can’t get away from me now, little girl. You’re all mine.” 

Your knees are bent and thighs spread open, giving him a perfect view of your cunt. He uses one hand to thumb your tiny hole while the other unbuckles his belt. 

“Prettiest pussy i’ve ever seen,” Joel says, “gonna make a mess in it.” 

Joel pushes his jeans down and fists his cock, squeezing the thick length in his hand. A pulse starts in your cunt at the sight and you unconsciously tighten your inner muscles.

You push the inappropriate thoughts out of your head, reminding yourself that this is a stranger, one that you wanted help from–but the dribble of pre-cum on his purple tip makes your mouth water. 

His cock is thick, angry-looking, and curved slightly. A patch of curly hair, silver streaked just like his head, covers his base. 

Joel slips a single finger inside of you and you both groan, him from the snug fit and you from the stretch. Your back arches and you cry out from behind the gag. 

“So fuckin’ tight,” he murmurs, “how am I gonna fit in here, angel?” 

He slides his finger out and notches the tip of his cock to your slick entrance. You cry, no, no, please, through your gag, but your resolve slowly slips. 

Joel holds your thighs open and thrusts in with one firm push, lodging himself to the hilt. It takes you a few moments to react, but you scream behind the gag.

“Fuck, fuck,” he says, “that’s—fuck. You’re fuckin’ perfect.” 

You flutter around his length, trying to accommodate his size, feeling every veiny and bumpy ridge on his cock. 

He stills, clutching your thighs and sliding his fingers beneath the lace band of your stockings.

“Grippin’ me so well, angel,” Joel groans, grinding down. “Meant to be, yeah?” 

No, you scream in your head, but your body quivers in excitement and you breathe in the scent of his cologne and sweat, wanting him but, at the same time remembering how you ended up here.  

“Look at cha’,” he laughs, “impatient little thing. Already fuckin’ herself on my cock.” 

You try to deny it, that you’re currently not swiveling your hips, bouncing with the little room you have, trying to get him to move, but it’s no use. You’re chasing the warmth that simmers in your belly and you purposefully clench around his length.  

Joel moves slowly, sliding out, watching the flicker of emotions on your face. 

It barely fits, and it borders on pain. But the heat in your pussy only grows with each growl or moan that spills from his mouth. 

You’re embarrassingly wet, making it so much easier for him to pound into you. He watches your joined bodies, eyes half closed but focused on the way your inner lips grip him, on how your slick drowns him from tip to base. 

“Should I keep you, little girl?” Joel groans. “Chain you to my bed so you never leave?” 

The image flashes in your mind—you, naked and sweaty, covered in his cum and spit, completely at his mercy. 

He doesn’t need a verbal answer to know the idea excites you. Little slut, he says, as your inner muscles tighten around him. 

Joel pushes your hands above your head and presses his face into the exposed column of your neck. He stretches over you, trapping you under his heavy weight. 

Even if this isn’t the first time you’ve been fucked—it is the first time you’ve been fucked like this. The sounds you make, whines, screams, pretty whimpers that have him holding you tighter and fucking you harder—it’s all new. 

“Deep,” he whispers in your ear, “so goddamn deep.” 

There’s something strangely intimate about this. He stays fully clothed, only giving you his bare cock to feel, while you lay beneath him, completely nude except for the thigh highs.  

Joel, if that even is his name, is a complete stranger. Yet he pounds into you like he owns you. 

His lips trail from your neck, licking the droplets of sweat that gather on your skin, leaving kisses on the corner of your mouth, uncaring of the drool from your gag. 

Your thoughts jumble from the overstimulation and soon you’re sobbing, filled with his big cock, dominated by the sheer force of his entire being. 

“So fuckin’ tiny,” Joel grunts, “take me cock, little girl. Take it, take it.” 

His breathing becomes erratic and he thrusts harsher, hauling your thigh higher so he can move quicker. He’s close. It might be your mind playing tricks or, his cock could actually be swelling inside of you, ready to fill you with his cum. 

His thumb swipes over your clit in fast circles and you ripple around his length, coming in sticky, wet spurts. Your scream, caught by surprise by the pressure of your orgasm. You tremble and cry in his hold, squeeze him hard enough that he groans in pain. 

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he mutters, “gonna make this pussy mine.” 

And he does. Joel fills your clenching, little hole with his cum, spilling his seed in your unprotected womb. You remember too late that you’re no longer on birth control, but it’s no use. You have no way to stop him from painting your cunt white, so you let him make a mess inside of you. 

His hips piston with enough force to sink you into the mattress. You’re not quite sure if your orgasm ever ended, but your cunt pulses with another wave as Joel fucks the rest of his spend inside of you. 

“All full of me, little girl,” he murmurs, dropping down to lay partially on top of you. 

You won’t be able to walk tomorrow, or maybe for the next few days. Your entire body feels sore and your mind is delirious. 

Joel gently slides out of you and places a kiss on your chin. He unties the silk from your hands and removes the wet panties from your mouth. You hear him walk out of the room, but fall asleep before you’re able to drink the glass of water he brings you. 

-

Joel’s POV.

He’s glad he followed Tommy’s advice and switched to a new escort agency. 

The others aren’t usually so responsive or reactive to his touch. They’ll play along to his fantasy, throw out a few no, please stop, but it never feels real. 

You’re different. 

You kicked, scratched him, drew blood from his skin. It felt real, bringing out the primal side of him that he’s so desperately tried to repress. 

Joel walks into the kitchen to grab you a glass of water and his phone, intending to order you food, when he sees an email from Sweet Angel Agency sent almost two hours ago. 

Dear Mr. Joel Miller, 

We apologize for the late notice but our Angel will not be able to make it to your residence tonight. We will be providing you with a full refund. Please wait 2-3 business days to see that reflected in your bank account. 

For any further questions or to schedule another appointment, please contact us. 

Thank you, 

Sweet Angel Agency

“Who the fuck is in my bedroom?” Joel says after reading the email. 

But as he walks back into the room and sees you spread out on his bed, your inner thighs soaked with your combined juices, marking your heated skin in white and clear streaks, Joel realizes he doesn’t really care. 

He strips out of his sweaty clothes and climbs onto the bed with you. Now that he knows you aren’t from the agency, there’s no reason to let you go just yet. 

- - -

a/n: i know there are probably a few fics out there with similar tropes however if anything in this one is similar in plot to another, it is purely by coincidence! i would never steal someone’s work and i appreciate each and every fic writer out there who does these for free and takes time out of their day to give us amazing fics 🤍

[hisfavoritesundress]

a/n: unedited, not proofread, just for fun <3

dating jason todd as red hood is something you haven't prepared yourself with.

aside from being the eventual personal nurse of his, but also your crazy bodyguard.

im not just talking about walking you home or taking you safely to any destination. He know your schedule every damn day, in every second, in every minute, with your knowledge of course, he wants you to understand that he is your boyfriend, and that's his job to protect you, but that doesn't mean he wants to control you, just letting you know that he'll jump off a building for you, just your word is all he needed.

he's jason todd, he doesn't settle for less., especially when it comes to your safety.

talking about tracking device, not just on your phone, he's not taking any chances, he's putting it everywhere, making a device inside a pendant, that small unnoticeable earrings, even around the band of your rings, panic button disguise as a cutesy little keychain, or even a pink little wrist watch, to monitor your pulse, all those devices connected to him, monitoring you when he's away and he'll be damned if something happens to you.

"this is a very cute keychain jay," you beamed, looking at him as he hand you a new design of keychain he made using 3d printer.

"yeah, it got a tracker, just in case," he said looking at you, "call me immediately if something came up, you can press it, it's a panic button too."

you bite a smile, "you're the best"

well, you're in Gotham and he's not risking even a little bit, so you can't blame him either.

"if you see something unusual, walk the other way, got it?" he said with that slight commanding voice that he used everytime he's talking about danger or Gotham or both, to you.

you look up to him. "yeah, got it"

"don't hesitate to call me or press that button, don't try to fight, just run if you can," he said even if the idea of you running from danger spins his head and taste bitter in his mouth, but it's the reality, despite how much he wants you to be in safety, there are circumstances that you might get involved.

"what if i don't have a choice but to fight babe?" you asked, curiously.

which he's well aware of, but he doesn't want to worry you.

he turn his back to the stainless steel table at the side and grab something and take it to you.

"this is a switch blade," he said, despite his initial disagreement of giving it to you, not that he doesn't trust you but because he would prefer you not getting hurt in the process, "it looks like a pen but when you click this," he demonstrate, clicking the button at the top, then the knife no longer than 5 cm glints under the florescent light, "it won't kill a man but it can nip a skin that would give you enough time to," he paused, "if it ever happened which won't ever," he added emphasizing his words, "will give you enough time to run," he added, watching your reaction, "press the same button, the blade goes back in."

"that's so cool," you smile, wanting to try it now, but he pulled his arm away before you could get the weapon.

"i want you to understand that this is not something you can just play around, doll," he frowned, unimpressed of your smile.

"yeah I know babe," you said, looking up to him. "I just wanna try it'

"you won't use it unless, unless, you really really need it," he said, firmly, "this is your last resort, you have every means of reaching me before you use this," he added, "are we clear?"

you nodded again.

"use your words"

"i promise, i won't use it unless i really really need it," you repeated, taking his words to heart.

he sighs and hand you the cute weapon, it's in pink, with glitter details around the rim of the button. "just be careful around it," he said, never looking away from you.

you smile softly, "i promise, i do, I'll call you first."

he sighs, at least you and him are in the same page, "okay," he said, reluctant to give the weapon to you, "you have to press it with a bit pressure so the blade comes out," he explained, while you hold the ball pen around your hand, "so it won't be an accident, when you bury it in your bag" he added.

"does it comes with other colors too?" you asked, looking at the table.

he shook his head, "no, just one, I only made that for you," he said.

weeks later, he saw you opening a package using the very weapon, he only shook his head and smile, cause let's face it, he's your real weapon.

[alleycatchitchat]

SPOILERS FOR TROLLS BAND TOGETHER ENDING! (not really plot-related, but still spoilers)

ok but this ↑ x2 because apparently nsync is canonically part of the world of trolls, and it looks like they have a huge crazy fanbase [maybe even bigger than brozone?]

which, i don't get how that works, did branch pursue his singing career in the gap between brozone's breakup and rosiepuff's death? or was he living some kind of secret double life this whole time? but whatever i'm rolling with it

anyway i am a sucker for overlooked, underappreciated characters who are secretly amazingly talented, and i really really need to read a fic where original-movie-snack-pack somehow stumbles across rosiepuff's old pod or news articles from years ago or a secret nync concert and has the realization like wait wait WAIT is that who i think it is

as an unapologetic fan of the dreamworks trolls franchise, i have Many Opinions about the upcoming movie, but all i can seem to focus on atm is how wild things would be if the events of movies 1 & 2 hadn't yet occurred and one day john dory pops up out of nowhere looking for branch and the entire troll village tries to process the fact that branch, yes branch was once in a wildly successful boy band

[shouyuus]

hiii rain how are you doing beautiful💞

what do u think about long-distance relationship!vi

a quick lil thing bc its been a long day u__u; i'm alright bby! still sick but im getting better slowly!!! <3

tiny lil bit 18+, mdni, vi-shaped brainrot as per usual

longdistance!vi who has a separate ringtone just for you, so she'll always know when it's you calling; she never misses a phone date, even if she's a little late sometimes, who nearly fumbles her phone when she tries to answer, so eager, every single time, who stares down at the image of you with the goofiest smile, because god how'd she get so lucky?

longdistance!vi who will phone you in the morning just to brush your teeth together, the both of you still half-asleep, messy hair and all, doesn't say a word, but will make faces at you when she's rinsing her mouth, gargles extra loud just to try and make you laugh so you'll choke on your toothpaste, winks when she catches you staring at her when she steps back to change, doesn't mute at all when she pees right after, laughing when you roll your eyes and hang up, only to call back a second later, her face shoved up against the screen, distorting her features just to say, "it's healthy to pee in the morning!"

longdistance!vi who's never shy with telling you that she misses you and is unrepentantly needy, texts you at all hours of the day, whines that life must hate her because you're so far apart, counts down the hours till she gets to see you again in person (three months, two days, and thirteen hours --)

longdistance!vi who doesn't hold back describing to you all the things she's gonna do to you the second she gets her hands on you, even as she's got a hand shoved down her own panties, the sound of your whines in her ears -- "god, can't wait to fuck you till you're cumming around my fingers -- you're always so wet for me baby --" "miss how you taste, miss the way you pull my hair --" "want you to cum on my mouth over and over, can you do that for me, baby? yeah?" "lemme hear you cum, doll, that's right -- moan nice and loud for me -- yeah, fuck the neighbor, he can complain to me when i get there."

longdistance!vi who definitely makes good on her promises, and then some, but you'll wake up to the smell of bacon and eggs in the morning, to the sound of her humming in the kitchen, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts; who can't help the smile that takes over her face when she turns around to see you standing in the doorway of your bedroom, wearing of one her old band tee's, your hair a bird's nest tangle from the night before.

"morning, princess -- sleep well?"

you patter up to her, press a kiss to her cheek, reach up for the moka pot to make some coffee.

"mm... depends on what well means -- we didn't get to sleep till wayyyy late," you tease, tugging two mugs from their hooks on the wall, bending over the fridge for the milk carton.

"yeah well -- 's not like we had plans today other than chillin' at home and --" she leans over to mouth at your neck, looping an arm around your middle, groaning into your skin even as you giggle and let her suck yet another hickey into your shoulder.

"i thought you wanted to go grocery shopping today? weren't you gonna make me vander's famous meatballs?"

she sighs, hooking her chin over your shoulder.

"fine, fine... but that can wait till the afternoon right?"

"sure it can," you say, laughing as she waddles the pair of you back to the stove to flip the bacon and eggs.

longdistance!vi who's always been terrible at goodbyes, who lingers too long and almost misses her flight, but she'll always be the last one waving, either by the airport drop-off or in the window of her cab, who texts you nearly immediately as you're out of sight, reminds you to drive safe, that she misses you already, and that she's already counting down the days till she can see you again.