#here's a mild take i've had in the back of my head for a while

[bookwyrminspiration]

personally i feel there's some descriptors you can't give yourself; you have to earn them. you can't call yourself a chaos gremlin, your peers and associates must bequeath that upon you after a certain number of Incidents. you can't decide you give off the vibes of a secret immortal trapped in human skin, you must behave strangely and anachronistically until your friends get suspicious and tease you and try to laugh it off while squinting nervously. there are rituals (peer review) to follow

[willowsnook]

halfway to always

quinn hughes x sharks!reader

summary: reader is Macklin and Will's bff who works for the Sharks. She gets invited to the lakehouse after meeting Jack Hughes who thinks she would be perfect for his brother.

There was a week-long break after the Devils played the Sharks, and Jack Hughes was eager to take advantage of a couple of extra days in the sunny weather of San Jose. After a grueling stretch of games, a beach day sounded perfect.

“We just need to stop and pick one more person up, and then we’ll be good to go,” Macklin Celebrini said as he slid into the driver’s seat of the car.

“Who?” Jack asked, shifting in his seat to glance at Will Smith in the back.

“Y/n,” Macklin answered simply.

Will furrowed his brows. “Does she even know we’re coming?”

“No, but I’m sure she isn’t doing anything,” Macklin chirped, grinning. Will snorted in response, clearly used to this kind of behavior from him.

“Who’s Y/n?” Jack questioned, still confused.

“She’s our best friend,” Will said casually. “She also works for the Sharks in player personnel, which is how we met her.”

“Yeah, her job was to make sure we started acting like adults, and now she’s stuck with us forever,” Macklin joked.

Jack smirked. “Is she dating one of you?”

“I wish,” Will scoffed. “She says that we’re babies. But she’s our best friend for real; you’ll love her.”

When they finally made it to your door, Jack immediately understood why they were both so attached to you. You were stunning. Your long hair was piled haphazardly on top of your head, and you answered the door in an oversized Sharks sweatshirt and shorts, your bare legs curled slightly from standing in the doorway. There was an immediate spark of curiosity in Jack, but what entertained him most was the way your expression immediately twisted into mild annoyance the second you saw Macklin and Will.

“What are you doing here?” you asked warily, your voice laced with irritation.

“Come to the beach with us, please,” Macklin begged, giving you his best puppy dog eyes.

“I’m busy,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest.

“No, you aren’t,” Will countered, stepping around you and waltzing into the apartment like he owned the place. “This is Jack, by the way.”

“I know who he is,” you grumbled, stepping aside to let them all in.

“Sorry to intrude,” Jack said sheepishly, and you waved him off.

“This is like every day of my life.”

Will and Macklin made themselves comfortable on your couch as you sighed, resigning yourself to their plans. As much as you griped about babysitting them, they were your best friends. What had started as a work obligation had turned into late-night hangouts, last-minute road trip plans, and a friendship you wouldn’t trade for anything.

You disappeared into your room to change, and when you emerged, Jack’s eyes instinctively followed you.

“Did you bring sunscreen? Food? Water?” you asked, hands on your hips.

Will and Macklin exchanged a sheepish glance before shaking their heads.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, moving into the kitchen to gather supplies.

“She’s like our mom,” Will told Jack, watching as you furrowed your brows in concentration while making sandwiches. “We’d probably die without her.”

“She tells us we’re like Ollie and Andy from Bob’s Burgers all the time,” Macklin added with a groan.

Jack snorted. He leaned against the counter, watching you thoughtfully. There was something about you that reminded him of his older brother.

“She’s kind of like Quinn,” he mused.

“That’s actually a good comparison,” Macklin said, nodding. “They’d be a hot couple.”

“Macklin,” you warned, hearing him loud and clear.

“What?” Macklin shrugged innocently. “I’m just saying. You’re both responsible adults who take care of children like us.”

You rolled your eyes, placing the last sandwich in the cooler. "I've never even met Quinn."

"But you've watched him play," Will pointed out with a smirk. "Remember when you said his edge work was—"

"Finish that sentence and I'm not packing any beer," you threatened, pointing a knife still coated in mayo at him.

Will immediately clamped his mouth shut while Jack's interest was piqued. "What did she say about Quinn's edge work?"

"Nothing," you said quickly, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. "Just professional observations."

Will smartly kept his mouth shut as you finished packing the cooler. Soon, you were all piled into the car, en route to the beach.

Once there, Macklin took off toward the water while you fell into step beside Will, Jack trailing slightly behind.

“You good?” you asked Will softly. He had been acting a little off since earlier—nothing obvious, but you knew him well enough to catch it.

“Yeah,” he said quickly. Too quickly. You shot him a look, and he sighed. “A lot of people are saying I should get sent down.”

Your heart clenched. You knew he was struggling a little, especially compared to how well Macklin was doing.

“A lot of people aren’t Coach,” you said gently. “You know what you need to work on.”

“I know,” he admitted. “The pressure is getting to me.”

“I’ll come in early with you this week to set up drills,” you offered.

A small smile tugged at his lips. “You’re too good to me.” He threw an arm around your shoulders as you walked down the beach together.

Jack watched the interaction quietly. He knew how tough it was to be a rookie in the NHL, and it reassured him to see that Will had someone looking out for him. He thought about Quinn and how the weight of being a captain seemed to be isolating him more and more.

As the day went on, you and Jack got to know each other better. He was charming, easy to talk to, and you found yourself enjoying his company more than expected.

“Do you have the summer off too?” Jack asked as you reapplied sunscreen.

You chuckled. “No, some of us have real jobs.”

Jack blushed. “I meant, do you get any time off?”

“I take most of my PTO during the summer,” you admitted.

“You should come to the lake with us,” he suggested. “Macklin and Will are already coming, and we have plenty of extra space.”

You hesitated, meeting his hopeful gaze. “I don’t want to intrude on guy time.”

“There will be other girls there,” he assured you. “And honestly, I don’t think they would survive without you.”

Macklin and Will reappeared, both dripping wet.

“Convincing her to come to the lake?” Macklin asked, moving his wet hair purposely over you to drip. You swatted at him but he jumped out of the way laughing. 

“Please come, Y/n,” Will pleaded.

You sighed, leaning back against your towel. “Fine.”

Jack grinned. Maybe this trip would be more interesting than he thought.

—----------------------------------------------------

You landed in Michigan the evening of your first day off. Will came to get you and he swept you up in his arms the second he saw you. 

“I missed you,” he exclaimed dramatically as you giggled, finally pulling apart. 

“It’s been like three days buddy,” you reminded him, passing your bag off for him to carry. 

“Three days too long, it’s been boring without you,” he complained. 

“I doubt that,” you replied, amused. He talked your ear off on the ride to the house, mentioning that you just had time to drop your stuff off before they had a bonfire that night. 

Macklin was sitting on the steps as you pulled up, bouncing up eagerly the second he saw you. 

“Y/n!” He yelled bolting towards you. 

“Hi Mack,” you laughed into him, melting into his familiar embrace. Will carried your stuff in and you let Macklin lead you into the house. 

“Hey Jack,” you greeted, waving to the boy who was waiting in the entryway. He pulled you into a hug. 

“Good to see you, y/n,” he said before tugging your arm. “Let me introduce you to everyone else.”

You met his younger brother Luke, his teammate Nico and his girlfriend, and then finally his older brother. 

“I’m Quinn,” the oldest Hughes brother said, sticking out a hand to you. He had an amused expression on his face which you knew had to do with the two bouncing balls of energy that were behind you. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

"All good things, I hope," you said, feeling a flicker of self-consciousness as Quinn's hand lingered in yours a moment longer than necessary.

"Mostly complaints about how you force them to act like grown-ups," Quinn replied with a slight smirk, releasing your hand. "Which, honestly, is impressive. Getting Macklin to pick up after himself when he stayed with us was a challenge."

You laughed, feeling yourself relax a little. There was something about Quinn that put you at ease—a quiet confidence that contrasted with Macklin and Will's chaotic energy.

"I'll show you where you're staying," Jack offered, grabbing your bag from Will.

"I can take it," Will protested, but Jack was already heading up the stairs.

"You can fight over who gets to carry her stuff later," Quinn said dryly, giving you an apologetic glance that sent butterflies to your stomach. “The fire is already started.” 

Sure enough there was a nice fire going in the backyard. A hodgepodge of lawn chairs and patio furniture surrounded it and you sat down on a comfy outdoor couch, Macklin plopping down right next to you. His arm slung behind you and you leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder. 

“Long day?” He asked and you nodded. 

“Had to tie up some last minute things at work and then of course saved all the packing for before the flight.” 

“Sounds like you,” he teased and you rolled your eyes smiling. 

“How’s it been here so far?” You asked. 

“Fun, I missed the Hughes’ bros so it’s been good to catch up,” he told you. “The break will be good for us, especially Will.” 

You looked over at Will, who was talking animatedly about something with Luke.

“I’ve been worried about him,” you admitted. 

“Me too,” Macklin agreed. “He’ll figure it out.” 

Quinn was watching you from across the fire, sipping his beer slowly, much to Jack’s amusement. 

“Are you sure they aren’t in some weird throuple thing?” He finally asked, breaking the silence. Jack snorted, glancing over to you and Macklin. 

“I promise you they aren’t,” he confirmed. “Just good friends.” 

Quinn hummed noncommittally, taking another sip of his beer. His eyes hadn't left you since you'd arrived. There was something captivating about the way you fit so seamlessly into their group yet maintained a quiet authority over the rookies.

As the night progressed, you found yourself drifting between conversations. Luke was telling you about his latest game when Quinn finally approached, offering you another drink.

"Thanks," you said, accepting the cold beer from his hands. Your fingers brushed briefly, sending an unexpected jolt through you.

"So, player personnel," Quinn began, settling into the chair beside you. "That's an interesting role for someone so young."

You raised an eyebrow, “thanks for the vote of confidence.” 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he backtracked. “Just thinking about how I would have enjoyed coming to the Canucks a little more if it was someone like you helping me versus a fifty year old man.” 

“Someone like me?” You teased, grinning widely as the older brother blushed. 

“You know what I mean,” he mumbled. 

You laughed softly, taking a sip of your beer. “I do, actually. A lot of guys coming into the league are barely out of high school, moving across the country, or even from overseas. It helps to have someone who understands what that transition is like—who can be a little more... relatable.”

Quinn nodded, leaning back in his chair. “Makes sense. I remember my first year was a whirlwind. You must have your hands full with those two.” He nodded toward Macklin and Will, who were now arguing over the best way to roast a marshmallow.

“You have no idea,” you groaned playfully. “They’re like two overgrown puppies. They mean well, but I swear I spend half my time keeping them from doing something stupid.”

Quinn chuckled. “Sounds familiar. Jack and Luke were the same way growing up. Still are, honestly.”

You turned to face him more fully, intrigued. “So, does that make you the responsible one? The one who keeps everyone in check?”

He smirked, taking another sip of his beer. “I try, but Jack and Luke don’t listen to me half the time. I think they see me more as the grumpy older brother who ruins their fun.”

You tilted your head, considering him. “I don’t think you’re grumpy. More like... observant.”

His eyes flickered with something unreadable before he looked away, watching the fire. “Maybe.”

You studied him for a moment. Quinn was quieter than his brothers, more reserved, but there was an undeniable warmth to him—something steady, reliable. You could see why Jack and Luke looked up to him, even if they didn’t always admit it.

“So,” Quinn said, breaking the silence. “What did you say about my edge work?”

Your cheeks immediately flushed, and you groaned, dragging a hand over your face. “Oh my god, I knew Will was going to say something.”

Quinn’s smirk deepened. “I’m just curious. Professional observations, right?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Fine. I might have said it was some of the best I’ve ever seen.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Might have?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. “Okay, I did say that. Happy now?”

Quinn took a slow sip of his beer, his eyes never leaving yours. “Yeah. I think I am.”

The air between you felt charged for a split second before Macklin’s voice rang out, breaking the moment.

“Y/n! Come settle this for us. Who’s making the better s’more—me or Will?”

You turned to Quinn, laughing. “Duty calls.”

Quinn watched as you walked toward the rookies, effortlessly slipping back into your role as their unofficial big sister. Jack nudged him from the side, a knowing grin on his face.

“You’re screwed,” Jack muttered.

Quinn just hummed, eyes still locked on you. “Yeah. I think I am.”

The next morning, you woke up at sunrise, admiring the pretty sight from your window. Throwing a sweatshirt on, you headed down the stairs into the kitchen where you were surprised to see you weren’t the only one up. 

“Morning,” Quinn greeted, leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee.

“I’m shocked to see someone else up,” you greeted, amused. You moved around him to pour your own cup before turning back. 

“My body is too used to early mornings, can’t sleep past 8 now,” he admitted and you nodded. 

“I’m the same way,” you said. “Probably for the best though.” 

You opened his fridge and stood there puzzled. 

“What?” Quinn asked.

“You have literally no food,” you said, turning to him in confusion. He shrugged his shoulders. 

“We order out a lot or just grill,” he said like it was the most normal thing in the world. 

“Is there a grocery store nearby?” You asked.

“I think so,” he said.

“Okay let’s go,” you said, moving to find your shoes. Quinn chuckled but listened, grabbing his keys off the counter. 

He followed you around the store amused, chiming in when you asked him for an opinion but mostly just admiring you. 

“What were you going to eat on the boat today?” You asked, one hand on your hip as you looked at him over your shoulder.

“Good question,” he replied with a grin and you rolled your eyes. 

“Mr. Responsible my ass,” you muttered. He paid for the groceries and you helped him load them into the car before going back to the house. 

Once you were back, the two of you worked in silence. You making lunches for the day while Quinn cooked eggs, sausage, and potatoes for when everyone else woke up. 

The kitchen filled with the aroma of breakfast as you and Quinn worked side by side, falling into an easy rhythm. You'd occasionally brush against each other reaching for utensils or ingredients, each contact sending a small jolt through you that you tried to ignore.

"You're good at this," Quinn observed, watching as you efficiently packed sandwiches for everyone.

"Taking care of man-children? I've had plenty of practice," you replied with a smirk.

He laughed, a warm sound that made your stomach flutter. "I meant cooking, but fair point."

"My mom always said if you're going to do something, do it well," you explained, carefully wrapping each sandwich. "Even if it's just making lunch for a bunch of overgrown hockey players.”

Quinn's eyes lingered on you longer than necessary. "I think we have similar mothers."

The smell of breakfast eventually lured the others downstairs, one by one. Macklin was the first to appear, his hair sticking up in every direction.

"You're cooking?" he asked, eyes widening as he took in the sight of you and Quinn working side by side in the kitchen.

"Someone had to," you replied, shooting Quinn a playful glance. "Otherwise you'd all starve."

"Or survive on takeout," Quinn added.

Will stumbled in next, making a beeline for the coffee. "Y/n's cooking? Thank god."

"Actually, Quinn made breakfast," you corrected, nodding toward the spread of eggs and sausage. "I'm just prepping for the boat."

"Team effort," Quinn said quietly, and you felt a small flutter in your chest at his words.

By the time everyone was fed and the kitchen cleaned up, the sun was high and you had just changed into your swimsuit, throwing on an oversized tshirt as a coverup. You followed the boys down to the dock, laughing with Will about something. Nico and his girlfriend were doing something else for the day so it was just the six of you on the water. 

Jack got in the driver’s seat and brought you all out to the middle of the lake before sitting idle. Macklin flipped off the boat into the water and you laughed as you watched him come back up. 

“The water’s great, get in,” he called out to you and Will. You pulled off your tshirt, revealing the bright red bikini you had chosen for the day and Will whistled. 

“For fuck’s sake,” Quinn muttered as his eyes took in your figure, lost in a trance. Jack gave him a knowing grin which he returned with his middle finger. 

The day went by quickly and you had a lot of fun; it was nice to just relax and not think about work for once. As it was winding down, Jack got ready to drive back but beckoned you over. 

“You want to drive?” He asked and you bit your lip.

“I don’t know how,” you admitted and he patted his lap for you to sit down. You could feel Quinn’s stare from across the boat. 

“Sit,” he commanded and you smirked, settling onto his lap, your back into his chest. 

“I know what you’re doing,” you told him, looking over your shoulder to Quinn.

Jack chuckled, his breath warm against your ear. "Just helping out a friend," he whispered, guiding your hands onto the steering wheel. "It's easy. Just keep it steady."

You couldn't help but glance back at Quinn again. His jaw was clenched, eyes dark as he watched Jack's hands over yours. There was something thrilling about his reaction, though you tried to push that thought away.

"Eyes forward," Jack instructed, giving Quinn a smug look over your shoulder.

You focused on steering, surprised by how much you enjoyed the feeling of control as the boat cut through the water. The wind whipped your hair around your face, and you couldn't hold back your laughter as Jack guided you through a slightly sharper turn.

When you finally docked, Quinn was the first off the boat, mumbling something about going to shower.

The guys wanted to go out that night so you quickly showered and changed into a pair of loose jeans with a black lace bodysuit. You curled your hair and applied a thin layer of makeup, relying on the tan that was already appearing on your face to do most of the work. 

Will was waiting outside of your door when you came out and he frowned as he took in your outfit.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, suddenly self conscious but Will just rolled his eyes. 

“What’s happening y/n? Are you going to fall in love with Quinn and leave us behind?” He complained and you barked out laughter.

“Nothing is happening Will,” you promised. “I’ll never leave you.” 

You pinched your cheeks with your fingers and he swatted at your hands. 

“You irritate me,” he grumbled. 

“But you love me,” you cheered, following him down the stairs. 

The bar was packed, buzzing with laughter and music as bodies pressed together in the dim glow of neon signs. You thrived in places like this—loud, chaotic, full of life. The second you stepped inside, you lit up, greeting people as if you'd known them forever. Quinn watched you, as he always did, lingering just close enough to keep an eye on you, but not close enough to draw attention to it.

“Drinks first, then dancing,” you declared, grabbing Luke’s arm and tugging him toward the bar. He groaned but didn’t resist, while Quinn followed a few steps behind, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

By the time you had a drink in hand, you were already scanning the crowd, eyes gleaming with mischief. A new song pulsed through the speakers, and you gasped. “Oh, this is my song! Luke, let’s go.”

Luke barely had time to react before you grabbed his wrist and dragged him toward the dance floor. “No, no, no—why me?” he protested, even as he stumbled after you.

“Because you’re fun, and I said so,” you shot back with a grin.

Quinn huffed a laugh into his beer as he leaned against a nearby pillar, watching as you seamlessly slipped into the rhythm of the song. You moved with an effortless confidence, laughing as Luke—reluctant at first—eventually gave in, mirroring your steps with exaggerated, playful movements. You twirled under his arm, your head thrown back in laughter, and Quinn felt something tighten in his chest.

"What are you staring at?" Jack's voice snapped Quinn out of his trance.

"Nothing," Quinn muttered, taking another swig of his beer.

Jack snorted. "Right. Absolutely nothing. That's why you haven't taken your eyes off her all night."

Quinn shot his brother a warning glance. "Drop it."

"All I'm saying is, she's single. And she clearly likes you," Jack said, nudging Quinn's shoulder. "I've never seen you this interested in someone."

"I'm not—" Quinn started, but stopped when he saw Macklin approach you on the dance floor, spinning you around effortlessly. The ease between you made something twist in his stomach.

"She's their friend," Quinn said finally. "It would be weird."

"Or," Jack countered, "it would be perfect. She already knows the hockey life. She puts up with the two of them all the time.” 

“You seem to be forgetting the fact that I live in Vancouver and she lives in San Jose,” Quinn said sharply and Jack took a deep breath. 

“True,” he admitted, not knowing what else to say. 

An hour later you were beat, and desperate to go home. Unfortunately that sentiment wasn’t shared by the others. 

“Just stay a little longer,” Luke begged, and you shook your head, a small smirk on your face. 

“I’ll be fine to walk home, my social battery is just drained,” you told him. Quinn appeared behind you, his eyebrows furrowed. 

“You’re not walking home by yourself,” he said firmly and you rolled your eyes. 

“I’ll be fine,” you argued but he stood strong. 

“I’ll come with you, just let me close my tab,” he said. You started to complain but he was already pulling you along. The two of you set out back to the house in silence, him caught up in his head about what Jack had said earlier. You were in the same boat, trying to figure out your budding feelings for someone you felt like you couldn’t have. 

“Are you tired?” He asked once you reached the house. 

“Not really, just tired of talking,” you admitted and he gave you a small smile. 

“Movie?” He suggested. You agreed and went off to change into something more comfy before joining him in the living room. You sat a healthy distance apart while he put on a Marvel movie, per your request. Halfway through he looked over to see you with your arms wrapped around yourself. 

“Cold?” He asked and you tore your gaze away from the screen to meet his. 

“A little.” 

He reached down to grab a blanket from the basket next to the couch and threw it over himself, patting the spot next to him. 

You hesitated for a moment before sliding closer, allowing Quinn to drape the blanket over both of you. The warmth of his body next to yours was immediate and comforting.

"Better?" he asked, his voice lower than before.

"Much," you murmured, trying not to focus on how your thigh was now pressed against his.

As the movie continued, you found yourself gradually relaxing, your body naturally leaning closer to Quinn's. You weren't sure if it was the couple of drinks you'd had or the late hour, but something about sitting here with him felt right in a way you hadn't expected.

When your head eventually dropped onto his shoulder, he tensed for just a second before carefully adjusting his position to make you more comfortable. His arm came around you hesitantly, and when you didn't pull away, he let it rest there.

"This okay?" he whispered.

You nodded sleepily, fighting to keep your eyes open. When the credits finally rolled, neither of you made a move to get up. You were drifting off and Quinn was just enjoying the silence. That was shortlived as the rest of the guys got back from the bar, amused at the scene in front of them.

“Good movie huh?” Jack teased and you buried your head into Quinn’s chest in embarrassment. His arm was still hung around you 

"I should go to bed," you mumbled against Quinn's shirt, feeling the rumble of his chuckle vibrate through his chest.

"Probably a good idea," he agreed softly, though his arm remained firmly around you.

Will and Macklin exchanged knowing glances, while Jack made a dramatic show of yawning and stretching. "Well, we'll just head upstairs then. Goodnight, you two."

You reluctantly pulled away from Quinn's warmth, avoiding his eyes as you stood. "Thanks for walking me home. And for the movie."

"Anytime," he replied, his voice a little rougher than usual.

You could feel his gaze following you as you headed up the stairs, and it took every ounce of willpower not to look back.

The next couple of days were filled with you and Quinn dancing around each other, nothing ever happening. As the evening of your last night approached part of you was disappointed but another part was relieved. You didn’t need to get attached. 

The plan for the night was to grill out and Quinn manned the grill while you got the rest of the food set up. You were next to him with a plate for him to pile the burgers on when Will came bouncing over. 

“We should set off fireworks,” he suggested, excitedly. 

“No,” you and Quinn both said at the same time. 

“Fine mom and dad,” he grumbled before stalking off. His words made you catch your breath and you avoided Quinn’s stare from next to you. 

“We do look a little domestic,” he finally said and you giggled. You spent most of the evening with Will and Macklin who were already pre-depressed that you were leaving tomorrow. 

"I'm not even gone yet," you laughed as Macklin dramatically draped himself across your lap on the patio furniture.

"But tomorrow you will be, and then we'll have to go back to San Jose, and you'll be all professional again," he whined.

"I'm always professional," you protested, though the words rang hollow even to your own ears. The truth was, you'd let your guard down here—with Will and Macklin, but especially with Quinn.

"You know what I mean," Will said, sitting on your other side. "No more movie nights, no more beach days. Just you telling us to tie our ties properly and reminding us about media training."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the fondness that washed over you. "We still hang out all the time.. Just... with fewer Hughes brothers around."

Your eyes drifted to Quinn, who was cleaning the grill. 

“Yeah too bad for you,” Macklin teased and you blushed making Will laugh. 

“She’s got it bad,” he sang. You pushed the boys off, shooting them the finger before walking over to where Quinn was. 

“Need help?” You asked. He smiled at your question before shaking his head. 

“Nah, I’m finished,” he told you. “Sit with me?” 

You followed him to the opposite side of where your two gremlins were, in a more private area. Quinn sat down in a lawn chair and you started to sit next to him but he tugged at your hand, pulling you down into his lap. 

You froze for a moment, surprised by his boldness, but then settled against him, your body fitting perfectly against his. The small fire pit in front of you cast a warm glow across your faces as Quinn's arms wrapped loosely around your waist.

"I've been wanting to do this all week," he admitted quietly, his breath warm against your ear.

You turned slightly to look at him, your faces now inches apart. "What stopped you?"

Quinn sighed, his thumb absently tracing circles on your hip. "A lot of things. The distance, for one. My brother being the one who introduced us. Those two over there being attached to you like barnacles," he nodded toward Will and Macklin, who were now engaged in what appeared to be a marshmallow-eating contest.

You laughed softly. "They are pretty clingy."

"I don't blame them," Quinn murmured. “This is selfish because I know you have to leave tomorrow but I just wanted to touch you at least once.”

“I’m glad you did,” you whispered,

Quinn's hand moved to your chin, tilting your face toward his. "Yeah?"

You nodded, barely breathing as he leaned closer. "Yeah."

His lips brushed against yours, tentatively at first, then with growing confidence as you responded. You shifted in his lap to face him and he deepened the kiss, his mouth moving along yours softly. The two of you were in your own world, caught up in only each other. 

After a bit you pulled away, staring deeply into his eyes before sighing. 

“What’s wrong angel?” He asked and you gave him a sad smile. 

“I like you Quinn,” you admitted, 

“And that makes you sad?” He teased and you let out a short laugh. 

“I’m sad because there isn’t anything we can do about it,” you said and he didn’t say anything for a bit before pressing his lips against your forehead. 

“I know.” 

pt. 2 here

[reveriebae]

Sugar-coated Sin

pairing(s) : Choi San x reader

word count : 8383

summary : A harmless cookie, a hidden crush, and a night of no return.

genre : smut

warning(s) : Explicit sexual content, aphrodisiac use, desperation, begging, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, slight corruption kink, switch!San, submissive reader, rough and messy oral, mild dub-con due to aphrodisiac effects, fluids everywhere, slight degradation, heavy praise, cock-drunk reader, love confessions in the heat of the moment. Let me know if I missed anything!

A/N : Maybe...just maybe, this one is the filthiest fic I've ever written :>

Minors do not interact, 21+ only!!

🪐smut under the cut 🪐

The glow of the TV screen flickered across the dimly lit living room, casting soft shadows on the walls. The movie played on, but neither of you was really watching. San sat comfortably on the couch beside you, legs spread lazily, one arm slung over the backrest while his other hand rested on his thigh. You had invited him over under the pretense of a casual movie night, a friendly hangout between neighbors. But the truth? You’d been harboring a quiet, desperate crush on him for months, watching him through your window when he left for the gym, catching glimpses of his toned arms whenever he wore sleeveless shirts, and hearing his deep, sleepy voice whenever he greeted you in the morning.

Tonight, he was so close, sitting right beside you, his scent—a mix of fresh laundry and something unmistakably San—lingering in the air. Your heart raced, but you kept your cool, tucking your legs beneath you as you reached for a handful of popcorn.

The coffee table in front of you was littered with snacks—half a bag of chips, an open pack of gummies, and a single, unopened box of purple cookies. It had been there since the beginning of the night, untouched, yet its unusual color stood out among the rest.

San’s sharp eyes landed on it after a while. “What’s that?” he asked, nodding toward the box as he leaned forward to grab his drink.

You blinked, feigning curiosity as you followed his gaze. “Hmm?”

“The cookies. They’re purple.” His brows furrowed slightly as he picked up the box, turning it in his hands. “Where’d you get these?”

You shrugged, acting completely indifferent. “I dunno. Maybe my friend left them here last time. Probably blueberry or something.” You popped another piece of popcorn into your mouth, keeping your expression perfectly neutral.

San hummed, seemingly satisfied with your answer. He opened the box with a crinkle of plastic, pulling out a cookie. It was a deep shade of violet, oddly smooth, and smelled faintly sweet—almost floral. He gave it a brief sniff before shrugging and taking a bite.

It took barely a second before he hummed in appreciation. “Oh, these are good,” he muttered through a mouthful.

You glanced at him, watching as he chewed slowly, his jaw flexing with every movement. “Yeah?”

“Mmh,” he nodded, already reaching for another. “They’re soft, kind of sweet but not too much. You really never tried them?”

You shook your head, hiding your smirk behind the rim of your glass as you sipped your drink. “Nope.”

San, completely unaware, continued eating. One cookie turned into two. Then three. Then four. You watched as he absentmindedly finished the fifth, licking a stray crumb off his thumb before grabbing a sixth without thinking. He was completely at ease, eyes flicking back to the screen as the movie droned on, paying no attention to the way his fingers twitched slightly against his thigh.

It started subtly.

The first thing you noticed was the way he shifted in his seat, rolling his shoulders as if trying to shake off an odd sensation. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and his brows knitted together briefly before he relaxed again. You pretended not to see it, keeping your gaze trained on the screen even as you observed him from the corner of your eye.

Minutes passed, and San’s breathing grew a little heavier. Not noticeably so—but you caught it. His chest rose and fell just a fraction quicker than before. His fingers twitched again, flexing briefly before he balled them into a loose fist.

Then, he exhaled sharply through his nose.

You turned to him, feigning curiosity. “You okay?”

San tensed at your voice, his head snapping toward you. His pupils were slightly blown, his lips parted as if he was about to say something—but he hesitated. His jaw clenched.

“Yeah,” he muttered, voice slightly hoarse. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

You blinked, tilting your head innocently. “You sure? You look kinda… hot.”

San inhaled deeply through his nose. His fingers dug into his thigh, gripping the fabric of his sweatpants as he forced out a chuckle. “M’fine.”

But he wasn’t.

The flush creeping up his neck told a different story. His body was heating up, slow and unbearable, a warmth that started in his stomach and trickled downward, pooling between his legs. He shifted again, subtly this time, pressing his thighs together as if that would help. His cock twitched, and he bit the inside of his cheek, willing it to calm down.

Not now. Not here.

But fuck—he could feel everything. The way his clothes clung to his skin, the way the air suddenly felt too thick, the way his heartbeat pounded just a little too hard in his ears. And then there was you.

You, sitting beside him, completely oblivious. Looking so fucking innocent.

San let out a slow breath, gripping his knee to steady himself. He could feel his body reacting against his will, heat rushing straight to his groin as a dull ache settled low in his stomach. He swallowed thickly, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

It had to be the cookies.

He glanced at the empty wrappers on the table, realization dawning—but it was too late. His body was already betraying him.

And the worst part? You weren’t even helping.

You shifted slightly, your thigh brushing against his just barely, and San had to suppress the whimper threatening to escape his lips. Fuck. He was too aware, too sensitive, too turned on, and you weren’t even doing anything.

Or maybe you were.

Maybe it was the way you leaned closer to grab your drink, your scent hitting him in full force. Maybe it was the way your lips parted slightly when you took a sip, or the way your throat bobbed when you swallowed. Maybe it was the way your fingers absentmindedly toyed with the hem of your shorts, completely unaware of the hell you were putting him through.

Or maybe—just maybe—it was the way you turned to him, brows furrowed in faux concern as you murmured, “San, are you sure you’re okay? You look really flustered.”

His breath hitched.

You were too good at this. Too good at acting clueless.

And fuck, he didn’t know how much longer he could hold himself back.

San swallowed hard, forcing himself to focus—on anything but the unbearable heat coursing through his veins. But every second that passed made it worse. His skin felt too tight, his sweatpants suddenly too restrictive, and his cock throbbed in his boxers, demanding attention he couldn’t give it.

Not in front of you. Not when you looked at him like that—so wide-eyed, so innocent, like you had no idea what you’d just done to him.

You shifted closer, your hand grazing his arm as you peered at him in mock concern. “San…?”

His breath came out shaky. His fingers twitched against his thigh. His jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

“Don’t.” His voice was hoarse, strained, like he was barely holding himself together.

You blinked. “Don’t what?”

San exhaled sharply, his grip on his knee tightening. “Don’t look at me like that.”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Like what?”

His nostrils flared. His body jerked when you shifted again, your knee brushing against his thigh, and this time—this time—it was too much. His cock twitched violently in his pants, straining against the fabric, and he felt it—the way the pulse of need shot straight through him, leaving him aching.

“Fuck—” he hissed under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut.

You stared at him, watching the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. The way his fingers dug into his thigh, white-knuckled, as he fought against whatever was happening to him. And then, ever so sweetly, you asked—

“San… what’s wrong?”

His eyes snapped open.

Oh, you were good.

Too fucking good.

San turned his head slowly, fixing you with a look so dark, so desperate, it sent a shiver down your spine. His pupils were completely blown now, his face flushed, his chest rising and falling just a bit too quickly.

And then—his tongue darted out to wet his lips, and fuck, it was almost shy the way he whispered—

“I need you to leave.”

Your brows lifted. “Huh?”

His jaw clenched. “I need you to leave. Now.”

You blinked at him, feigning confusion. “Why? This is my house”

San exhaled hard through his nose, shifting again, trying so desperately not to move his hips—but it was useless. He was already hard. Painfully so. His cock pressed against the fabric of his sweatpants, aching, and every little movement sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through him.

And you—

You sat there, looking at him like you didn’t just wreck him completely.

His fingers flexed against his knee. His tongue flicked out again, wetting his lips. He was holding back—barely—but the cracks were starting to show.

And then, you said it.

Soft, sweet, and utterly devastating.

“…San, do you need help?”

His entire body froze.

Silence. Thick, heavy silence. The only sound was the low hum of the TV, the flickering light casting faint shadows across his face.

San didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

You watched him carefully, noting the way his shoulders tensed, the way his fingers flexed just slightly.

He turned his head, gaze locking onto yours, dark and unreadable.

“…What did you just say?” His voice was low. Dangerously low.

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “I asked if you need help. You look really uncomfo—”

San let out a sharp breath, a broken, frustrated laugh leaving his lips as he leaned forward, pressing his elbows to his knees. His hands threaded through his hair, gripping at the strands, his shoulders heaving.

“You—” He exhaled shakily, lifting his head to meet your gaze. “You don’t even know what you’re doing right now, do you?”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

San let out another laugh, but this one was strained, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip. His legs spread just slightly, enough that you could see the outline of his problem if you were looking.

Which you were.

His voice dropped even lower, rough and needy.

“Baby, if you don’t leave right now…”

A pause. A breath.

And then—

“…I won’t be able to stop myself.”

The room felt unbearably hot, the space between you crackling with something thick, something dangerous. San sat there, legs spread just enough for you to see the bulge in his sweatpants, his fingers gripping his knees so tightly his knuckles were white. His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, his tongue darting out—again—to wet his lips.

He was trying so hard to keep himself in check.

But you weren’t making it easy for him.

You sat there, all wide-eyed and sweet, your lips barely parted in faux confusion, your body angled ever so slightly toward him. You were playing your part perfectly, pretending to be clueless, pretending you didn’t see the way his cock strained against his sweatpants, thick and aching.

San let out another shaky breath, his fingers flexing, nails digging into the fabric of his pants. His entire body was tense, trembling with restraint, his mind a mess of heat and hunger.

“I’m serious,” he gritted out, voice dangerously low. “You need to go.”

But you didn’t move.

Instead, you shifted closer, your knee brushing against his, and—

Fuck.

San’s entire body jerked, a low, strangled noise catching in his throat. His hands flew to his thighs, gripping them so hard it was almost painful. His lips parted as he sucked in a sharp breath, his head tilting back against the couch, his jaw tight.

Oh.

You bit the inside of your cheek, watching the way his chest heaved, the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed. His skin was flushed, a deep, burning red creeping up his neck, his hair slightly damp with sweat.

“…San?” Your voice was soft, so innocent.

His fingers twitched. His nostrils flared.

And then—he turned to you.

Slowly.

Dangerously.

His pupils were completely blown now, his lips slightly swollen from how hard he was biting them. His expression was wrecked—half desperate, half pained—but beneath it all, there was something else.

Something dark.

Something hungry.

“…You’re fucking with me.” His voice was hoarse, dripping with frustration.

You blinked. “I’m not.”

His jaw clenched. “Yes, you are.”

“I really don’t—”

“Baby.”

You froze.

San’s hand suddenly shot out, fingers curling around your wrist—not rough, not forceful, but firm. His grip was warm, burning, his thumb pressing against your pulse point, feeling the way it jumped beneath his touch.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He felt it.

And fuck—his lips curled into something almost dangerous.

“…You like this, don’t you?” His voice was a whisper, low and intense.

You swallowed. “San—”

“You like watching me like this.” His thumb stroked against your wrist, slow and deliberate. “You like seeing me hold myself back. You like seeing me suffer.”

You opened your mouth—to deny it, to keep up the act—but then San’s grip tightened, just slightly, just enough to make you feel it.

Your breath hitched.

San exhaled sharply, his eyes flicking down—to your lips, to your throat, to the way your chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. His own breathing was shaky, his entire body trembling with the effort to keep himself from snapping.

He was holding on by a thread.

And then—

“…You really shouldn’t have let me eat those cookies, baby.”

San was unraveling.

His grip on your wrist tightened for a brief moment before he let go—only to move faster than you could react. One second, he was sitting beside you, barely holding himself together, and the next—

You were on your back.

Your body sank into the couch, your breath punched out of you as San hovered above, his hands gripping your thighs so tightly you could feel the heat of his palms through your shorts. His pupils were blown, his lips parted, his chest heaving as he stared down at you like he was about to devour you whole.

“San—”

“Shh,” he rasped, shaking his head, his thumbs stroking against your skin. “No more talking.”

His voice was ruined—wrecked with frustration, with need, with the unbearable ache that had been building inside him since the moment he ate those damn cookies.

And then—

Rip.

Your breath hitched as your shorts and panties were suddenly yanked down in one go, the cool air hitting your bare skin. Your thighs clenched together on instinct, but San didn’t let you close them—his hands pushed them apart, his fingers digging into your flesh as he spread you open wide for him.

“Fucking finally,” he groaned, almost in relief.

Heat flared through your body, your stomach twisting into a tight knot as you felt his breath—warm and heavy—ghost over your exposed skin.

“S-San—”

“I don’t wanna hear a fucking word,” he cut you off, his voice dropping into something dark, something dangerous. His hands tightened on your thighs, his fingers pressing deep into the flesh. “You’ve been sitting there all fucking innocent, acting like you don’t know what you’re doing to me—”

He let out a sharp, frustrated breath, his head dropping for a second. Then—he lifted it, eyes locking onto yours, dark and unreadable.

“You wanna act clueless?” His voice was quiet, deadly. “Fine. I’ll make you understand.”

And then—

His mouth latched onto you.

A sharp, broken moan ripped out of your throat as his tongue flattened against your pussy, broad and hot and hungry. The first stroke was messy—desperate—his lips parting as he sucked at your clit, his nose pressing against your skin as he buried himself between your legs.

Your entire body jerked at the sudden intensity, your fingers flying to grip the cushions as a choked gasp left your lips. “S-San—!”

But he didn’t let up.

He was starving.

His tongue moved sloppy and wet, flicking against your clit before dragging down, tasting every inch of you. His groan was deep—needy—his hands tight on your thighs as he pushed them further apart, forcing you to take everything he was giving.

“Fuck,” he growled against your skin, his breath hot and ragged. “Taste so good, baby—fuck—”

His tongue delved into you, deep, his lips moving in frantic, desperate kisses against your heat. His nose nudged against your clit with every movement, sending sharp shocks of pleasure racing up your spine.

Your legs trembled, your hands flying to grip his hair, trying to pull him away—but he didn’t budge. If anything—

He groaned, his hands flying up to grab your wrists, pinning them to your stomach.

“Oh, no,” he murmured, voice wrecked, his lips dragging against your soaked skin. “You’re not stopping me.”

You whined, your hips jerking as his tongue circled your clit before sucking it hard into his mouth. Your vision blurred, a broken sob leaving your lips as pleasure shot through you, hot and searing.

“S-San—! Oh, fuck—”

His grip on your wrists tightened. “That’s what I wanna hear,” he groaned, his tongue pressing against your clit in slow, intentional circles. “Not that fake little innocent act. I wanna hear you beg.”

Your chest heaved, your fingers twitching in his grasp. “P-please—”

San moaned—loud, needy, his hips grinding against the couch as if he was getting off on this just as much as you.

“Fuck,” he panted, his lips dragging against your skin, his tongue dipping deep before flicking back up to circle your clit again. “Say it again.”

Your back arched, your legs shaking in his grasp. “San—please—”

He growled, his lips wrapping around your clit, sucking hard, his tongue flicking fast—and your entire body convulsed, a sharp cry ripping from your throat as the pleasure crashed through you, sudden and violent.

But he didn’t stop.

Even as your body twitched, even as your thighs trembled, even as your moans turned into desperate, choked whimpers—he kept going.

Over and over and over.

Rough. Messy. Unrelenting.

Your voice cracked, your hands struggling against his grip. “I-I can’t—!”

San moaned against your skin, his hips rolling again, his cock aching in his pants.

“Oh, baby,” he breathed, his tongue dragging against your heat, devouring you. “You can. And you will.”

San was a fucking menace.

You had no control anymore—your body was his to ruin, his to wreck, his to make completely fall apart beneath him. His hands were firm on your wrists, keeping you pinned to your own stomach, his tongue relentless as he ate you like a man possessed.

His desperation was palpable—in the way his lips sucked at your clit, in the way his tongue flicked fast and sloppy, in the way his hips kept grinding against the couch as if he was getting just as much pleasure from this as you were.

And the worst part?

He was.

“San—fuck—” Your voice was a broken whimper, your head thrown back against the cushions, body jerking with every frantic stroke of his tongue. “T-too much—”

San growled into you, the vibrations shaking through your core. His grip tightened on your wrists, forcing you to stay put as he dove back in, lips wrapping tight around your clit as he sucked hard—

Your vision whited out.

A sharp, guttural cry tore from your throat, your back arching clean off the couch as a second orgasm ripped through you, just as intense as the first.

But San—

San didn’t stop.

“F-fuck, San—!” Your voice was wrecked, your thighs trembling violently as his tongue kept flicking, kept circling, kept fucking devouring you.

He was insatiable.

“Taste so fucking good, baby—” he groaned, his voice wrecked, his mouth messy with you, his lips dragging sloppy kisses over your soaked skin. “Gonna make you cum for me again, yeah? Gonna let me ruin you?”

Your breath came out shaky, a mix of pleasure and overstimulation making your body jerk beneath him.

“C-can’t—” You whined, shaking your head, your fingers twitching in his grip. “San, please—”

San moaned against you, his hips rolling into the couch again, desperate, needy. “Mmm, baby,” he breathed, voice hoarse, lips shining with your slick as he glanced up at you. “You keep saying that, but you’re so fucking wet for me.”

His tongue dragged against your entrance before flicking up again, circling your clit in tight, fast motions. “Your pussy’s begging for me.”

Your body shuddered, a whimper leaving your lips. “S-San—”

His fingers squeezed your wrists, keeping them trapped. His eyes were dark, desperate—his own body trembling with restraint as he devoured you again, his tongue flicking faster, his lips sucking harder.

You were gone.

Pleasure built again, fast and merciless, your thighs shaking as San wrecked you with his mouth.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, tongue swirling sloppy and wet. “Cum for me again. I wanna feel it.”

Your body jerked, your voice breaking as your orgasm slammed into you—so hard, so intense it left you gasping for air, your fingers digging into the couch, your hips jerking against his mouth.

But even then—

San still wasn’t done.

His mouth was still messy against you, his lips still sucking, his tongue still fucking you, his own breath ragged, his cock so painfully hard in his sweatpants he could barely think straight.

His head lifted slightly, his tongue flicking against your clit in slow, precise strokes. And then—his voice, hoarse and wrecked.

“One more.”

You whimpered, your entire body shuddering beneath him.

San pressed a soft, wet kiss to your clit, his voice a rough whisper against your skin.

“I know you can take it.”

San was insatiable.

You were wrecked beneath him—your body trembling, your thighs shaking, your breath coming out in sharp, shallow gasps. Your brain was muddled, your skin burning hot, your core aching from the relentless pleasure he’d already given you.

But San?

San wasn’t done.

He refused to be done.

His mouth pressed another slow, wet kiss against your clit, his tongue flicking just enough to send a sharp jolt through your already sensitive body. Your legs twitched, your breath catching in your throat, a desperate whimper slipping past your lips.

San groaned at the sound, his hands tight on your thighs, keeping them spread as he dragged his tongue through your slick folds again—slow this time, teasing, torturing.

“F-fuck—San—” Your voice was broken, your fingers twitching against your stomach, where he still had them pinned.

San hummed against your skin, his lips curving slightly. His breath was warm, heavy with desire, his own body trembling with restraint. His hips twitched again, his cock so achingly hard beneath his sweatpants that you could feel his frustration radiating off of him.

But he wasn’t relieving himself.

No.

His only focus was you.

“I need one more,” he murmured against you, his lips pressing another sloppy kiss to your clit, his tongue flicking just right. “I need it, baby. I need to feel you break for me again.”

You whined, your head turning to the side, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as your body shuddered from the overstimulation.

“S-San—”

His fingers tightened on your thighs.

“You can take it,” he whispered, voice low and wrecked. “I know you can.”

And then—

His mouth latched onto your clit again, his tongue flicking fast, his lips sucking hard, his desperation coming out in the way he devoured you like a man starving.

Your body jerked, a sharp cry breaking from your lips as another wave of pure pleasure slammed into you—hot, intense, merciless.

San groaned, his hands shaking as he held you down, his tongue flicking, licking, sucking, taking everything he could—

And your body broke.

Your moan was raw, shattered, your legs trembling violently as the pleasure ripped through you one final time—so strong, so overwhelming that your vision blurred, your entire body going limp beneath him.

And finally—finally—San pulled away.

His breath was heavy, his lips wet, his face completely wrecked as he slowly lifted his head, his fingers still tight on your thighs. His pupils were blown, his skin flushed, his entire body trembling with restraint.

He was desperate.

Needy.

His cock was aching, straining against his sweatpants, his hips twitching with every deep breath he took.

And yet—

His eyes stayed on you.

A slow smirk curled his swollen lips.

“…Now,” he murmured, voice rough, low, dripping with satisfaction. “Be a good girl—”

His hands finally released your wrists, and one of them dragged down your body, warm and possessive, until his fingers pressed against your wrecked heat.

And then—

“And open that pretty little mouth for me.”

And he wasn’t waiting any longer.

His fingers curled around your jaw, his grip firm as he tilted your head up—forcing you to look at him. His eyes were dark, blown wide with lust, his lips parted, his breath coming out ragged.

“Open,” he rasped, his voice wrecked from how much he’d devoured you already.

You barely had a second to react before his thumb pushed against your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth open just enough—

And then—

San spit.

A hot, thick glob landed on your tongue, the sensation sending a sharp shock through your system, making your thighs clench, your body shudder beneath him.

San groaned, his grip tightening on your jaw, his cock twitching in his pants at the way you just took it—at the way your tongue glided against your bottom lip as you swallowed.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathed, his voice shaking with restraint. “You’re so good for me.”

His free hand shoved at his sweatpants, yanking them down just enough for his cock to spring free—thick, leaking, his tip an angry red from how long he’d been holding back.

He couldn’t wait anymore.

He needed your mouth.

“Tongue out,” he murmured, voice low, dark with hunger.

You obeyed without hesitation, your tongue flicking out just enough—

And San groaned, his hand wrapping around the base of his cock as he dragged the tip against your tongue, smearing his precum across it.

“Shit—” His breath shuddered, his hips twitching forward, his patience snapping all at once.

And then—

He pushed in.

Your mouth stretched around him, your throat constricting as he bottomed out in one slow, deep thrust, his cock pressing against the back of your throat, forcing a wet, choked gasp from your lips.

San moaned, his grip on your jaw tightening, his head dropping back for a second before his gaze snapped back down to you—watching as your lips stretched around him, your mouth completely full of his cock.

“Fucking—” His voice was wrecked, his hips trembling. “God, your mouth—so fucking perfect—”

And then—

He started to move.

Slow at first—teasing, dragging his cock out just enough before pushing back in, making sure you could feel every inch, every throb, every pulse of him against your tongue.

But then—

His restraint snapped.

His hips snapped forward, hard and desperate, forcing a wet, choked sound from your throat. His fingers dug into your jaw, holding you in place as he fucked into your mouth, deep, rough, his groans growing louder, needier.

“Fuck, baby—fuck—” he panted, his breath ragged, his hips snapping against your lips with each thrust. “Your mouth—so fucking good—so tight—”

Your throat constricted, your eyes watering from the sheer intensity of it—but San didn’t stop.

If anything—

He got rougher.

His pace quickened, his cock dragging against your tongue before slamming back in, his moans turning into needy, desperate growls. Spit dripped down your chin, your lips swollen, your breath coming out sharp through your nose as you tried to keep up with the way he was using your mouth.

And fuck—

He loved it.

“Look at you,” he groaned, his hand fisting your hair now, holding you in place as his cock slid deeper, making you gag around him. “Fucking messy for me. Taking it so good, baby—”

His hips stuttered, his breath hitching, his body tensing as he thrust in deep—

And then—

A low, wrecked moan tore from his throat as his cock pulsed, his cum spilling hot and thick down your throat.

He held you there, deep, making sure you took every drop, his fingers tight in your hair, his breath heavy as he watched you—your eyes teary, your lips puffy, your throat constricting as you swallowed everything he gave you.

San groaned, his entire body shuddering, his cock twitching one last time before he slowly pulled out, watching as a thin strand of spit and cum connected your lips to his tip.

His thumb wiped it away—only to push it back into your mouth, watching as your tongue flicked against the pad of his finger, as you sucked it in.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his voice shaky, his thumb stroking against your lip. “You’re so fucking good for me.”

His breathing was still ragged, his body still trembling—but even through his post-orgasm haze, even as his cock twitched from the sheer sensitivity—

His fingers dragged up your body again, slow, deliberate.

And then—

He smirked.

“Now,” he murmured, his voice low, dangerous.

“We’re not done yet.”

San’s breath was still shaky, his cock twitching against your skin even as he came down from his high—but fuck, it wasn’t enough.

Not even close.

His fingers twitched against your jaw, his thumb dragging over your spit-slicked lips, his eyes blown wide with hunger as he stared down at you. His body was still on fire, the heat curling deep in his gut, his cock already hardening again despite just having emptied himself down your throat.

His entire body ached with need.

He still wanted more.

And more.

And more.

His breath shuddered as his gaze dropped lower, trailing over your wrecked body, your thighs still trembling from the orgasms he’d already given you. His fingers ghosted over your stomach, down to your dripping heat, his jaw clenching at how soaked you still were.

“You’re so fucking ruined already,” he murmured, his voice low, rough, wrecked.

But his fingers pushed in anyway—two, then three, stretching you open again, making you gasp at the sudden intrusion. Your body arched into him, your breath coming out in a sharp, needy whimper, your walls clenching around his fingers as he started thrusting them in deep, slow.

His free hand gripped your thigh, spreading you wide, his lips parted, his eyes wild as he watched his fingers disappear into you, over and over and over again.

And then—

His cock twitched.

San groaned, his patience snapping all over again.

His fingers left you just as fast as they entered—only to be replaced by his cock, sliding between your folds, the tip smearing his precum along your entrance before he pushed in, slow, deep, stretching you all over again.

A sharp, broken moan tore from your lips, your back arching against the couch, your nails digging into the cushions as he bottomed out in one deep, desperate thrust.

San choked on a moan, his arms trembling as he held himself over you, his head dropping forward, his breath shaky against your skin.

“F-fuck,” he groaned, his voice shaking, his hands tightening on your thighs. “You’re—so tight, baby—so fucking wet—”

And then—

He snapped his hips forward.

A sharp cry ripped from your throat as his cock slammed into you, deep and hard, his grip unrelenting as he held you there, forcing you to take every inch, every pulse of him inside you.

And he didn’t stop.

His pace was brutal, his thrusts fast, his body shuddering with pleasure as he pounded into you, his voice breaking into low, needy moans with every sharp snap of his hips.

“Fucking—shit—” San’s voice was wrecked, his head dropping to your shoulder, his hands gripping your hips so tight they were bound to leave bruises. “Feel so fucking good, baby—feel so tight around me—”

Your moans were shattered, your entire body jerking with the force of his thrusts, your mind already melting from how deep he was, from how ruthlessly he was fucking into you.

And fuck—he was losing himself.

His hands suddenly flipped you, pressing your chest into the couch, his weight caging you beneath him as he thrust back in, his moan ragged, wrecked, completely fucked out.

“You wanted this, huh?” he growled against your ear, his hips snapping against your ass, his cock hitting that spot deep inside you over and over and over again. “Wanted me to fuck you like this? Use you like this?”

Your moan came out choked, your fingers digging into the couch, your body completely fucked out beneath him.

San groaned, his teeth sinking into your shoulder, his body shaking as his cock twitched inside you, his thrusts growing sloppy, desperate.

“Gonna cum—” His voice was wrecked, his hands trembling against your skin, his pace quickening, snapping into you harder, deeper— “Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

His hips jerked, his cock pulsing as he spilled inside you, hot and thick, his moan shattered as his body shuddered against yours.

But even then—

Even after he’d emptied himself inside you, even after he’d fucked you to the point of exhaustion—

San didn’t stop.

His cock was still hard. His breath was still shaky.

He was still aching for more.

His arms wrapped around you suddenly, flipping you back onto your back, his lips crashing against yours as his cock thrust back into you—

And he groaned, deep and wrecked, his hands gripping your body, his hips rolling into yours again, his body shuddering from the overstimulation, from the sheer desperation consuming him.

San’s body was burning.

Every inch of him was on fire, his skin too hot, his breath too shaky, his cock still throbbing inside you even after he had already cum so hard his vision had blurred.

But it wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

His hands were everywhere—gripping, grasping, trembling as they explored every inch of your wrecked, sensitive body. His fingers dug into your hips, dragging you up against him, his breath shuddering as he felt just how soaked you still were, how your slick was dripping down his thighs, how your body trembled beneath him.

And fuck—he needed more.

His lips crashed against your neck, sucking, biting, devouring as his hands spread your thighs wide, his hips grinding against yours, his cock pulsing inside you.

“Shit—” His voice was wrecked, his grip tightening on your body. “You’re so fucking wet, baby—so messy for me—”

And then—

His fingers slid between your legs, pressing against your clit, rubbing fast, sloppy, his cock still deep inside you, stretching you so perfectly you could barely breathe.

Your body jerked, a sharp, broken moan tearing from your throat as his fingers played with you, as his cock twitched inside you, as his breath came out in needy, desperate little gasps.

“Gimme—gimme another one, baby—” His voice was pleading, desperate, his pace quickening, his touch growing rougher, sloppier. “Just one more—fuck, just—please—”

And then—

Your body snapped.

A sharp cry tore from your lips as your orgasm crashed over you again, your thighs trembling, your vision blurring as you gushed all over him, soaking his thighs, his cock, his stomach—everything.

San choked on a moan, his head dropping against your shoulder, his body shuddering as he felt you squirt all over him, felt how wrecked you were, how completely ruined you were beneath him.

And fuck—

He still wasn’t done.

His hands dragged down your body, his fingers trembling as they gripped your thighs, his lips brushing against your temple as he whispered, shaky, needy—

“Baby, I need—” His voice broke, his breath ragged, his cock twitching inside you. “I need you again—”

His hips snapped forward, deep, his cock dragging against your sensitive walls, his hands grasping, clutching, desperate as he fucked into you again, as if he hadn’t already ruined you.

His voice was pleading, his hands shaking, his lips trailing down your skin as he whispered, begged—

“Just one more, baby—just—just one more—”

His skin was burning, his body shaking, his cock aching—but fuck, he still wasn’t satisfied. His lips were glossy with spit, his thighs soaked from how many times you’d already squirted all over him, his breath coming out in needy, ragged little moans as he panted against your skin.

And you?

You were just as wrecked.

Your body was limp beneath him, your voice hoarse from how many times you’d already screamed his name, your legs trembling as he pushed them apart yet again, refusing to let you close up, refusing to let you hide from him.

His fingers gripped your thighs, spreading you wide, his breath shuddering at the sight of your dripping, swollen cunt, slick and messy from everything he’d already done to you.

And fuck—he still wanted more.

His cock throbbed, his mouth watering as he lowered himself between your legs again, his hands grasping, clutching at your thighs, his lips brushing against your soaked heat as his voice came out shaky, wrecked—

“Baby, I need—” His voice broke, his breath hot against your skin. “I need to taste you again—”

And before you could even process it—

His tongue was on you.

A sharp, choked gasp tore from your lips as his mouth latched onto you, his tongue sliding between your folds, his lips wrapping around your clit as he sucked, hard.

“San—!” Your voice cracked, your fingers jerking into his hair, tugging, pulling—but he didn’t care. He growled against you, his arms tightening around your thighs, locking you in place as he devoured you, as if he was starving, as if he’d die if he didn’t have you.

And fuck—he was so messy about it.

His tongue was sloppy, wet, licking and lapping at your cunt like he couldn’t get enough, like he needed you more than air itself. Spit and slick were everywhere, coating his lips, dripping down his chin, mixing with the wetness already soaking his thighs.

And fuck, he loved it.

His hands dug into your hips, pulling you against his face, his moans vibrating against your heat, his cock twitching between his legs as he grinded against the couch, so fucking needy, so fucking wrecked just from tasting you.

“San—fuck, fuck—” Your breath was ragged, your fingers clutching at the sheets, your body jerking with every sharp flick of his tongue. “You’re so—so messy—”

San groaned, his hips grinding harder against the couch, his hands shaking as he dragged his tongue down, circling your entrance, his voice coming out slurred, wrecked—

“Can’t—can’t help it, baby—” His tongue pushed in, fucking into you, his moan shattering as he felt you clench around him, as he felt your thighs shake, your body trembling beneath his touch.

And then—

“Gonna make you squirt again,” he murmured, his breath shaky, his tongue pulling out just to be replaced by his fingers, two—then three, stretching you wide, fucking into you deep, his mouth still latched onto your clit, sucking, moaning, ruining you all over again.

Your moans turned shattered, your body jerking, your hands gripping his hair so tight it should’ve hurt—but fuck, he loved it.

And then—

You snapped.

A sharp, choked scream ripped from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you, your body jerking, your back arching as you gushed all over his face, soaking his lips, his chin, his throat.

San moaned, deep and wrecked, his hips twitching, his cock aching as he fucked his fingers into you, forcing more out of you, watching as you dripped down his arms, as your thighs shook, as your entire body gave out beneath him.

But even then—

Even after he had licked you clean, even after he had made you cum so hard you could barely breathe—

San still wasn’t done.

His cock was throbbing, his body aching, his hands gripping your thighs as he flipped you over, his voice ragged, wrecked, pleading—

“Just one more, baby—” His breath was shaky, his cock pressing against your entrance, still soaked with your slick, your juices still dripping down his thighs. “Just—just one more—”

And then—

He slammed into you, hard, deep, his moan breaking as his cock dragged against your oversensitive walls, as your body clenched around him, as he lost himself in you all over again.

And fuck—

He was never stopping.

Your limbs were twitching, your skin burning, your mind completely blank from how many times San had already fucked the breath from your lungs. Your thighs were sticky with slick, your body completely boneless beneath him, your voice hoarse from all the screams he’d already pulled from you.

But San?

San was a wreck.

His body was shaking, his chest heaving, his cock still twitching inside you, still aching, still so desperate for more. His fingers clutched at your waist, trembling, his lips dragging against your cheek, his breath hot and shaky, his voice coming out wrecked, pleading—

“Baby, please—” His voice broke, his hands shaking as they gripped you tighter, his lips feathering over your jaw, your ear, your throat—begging.

You whimpered, barely able to move, barely able to breathe, your body too sensitive, too wrecked to even process the words properly.

“San—I can’t—” Your voice was shaky, barely even a whisper, your hands weakly pressing against his chest, trying to stop him, trying to make him listen. “I—I can’t take anymore—”

San whined.

A deep, desperate, completely wrecked little sound, his entire body shuddering, his hands gripping you tighter, his lips pressing against your throat, begging, pleading—

“Baby—please—” His voice was strained, so wrecked that he could barely form words, his body so desperate that he was practically vibrating with need. “I need you—fuck, I need to feel you again—”

His hips jerked, his cock twitching inside you, still so hard, still aching for more, still so needy that it physically hurt.

“Just—just let me, baby—” His voice cracked, his breath hot against your skin, his hands still clutching at you, his body still begging even though he already knew your answer.

And then—

His hips pressed in.

Deep.

Slow.

And you gasped, your body jerking, your thighs trembling as he pushed himself inside you again, his cock stretching your already wrecked, overworked walls, making you feel every inch of him, making you take him whether you could handle it or not.

“San—stop—” Your voice broke, a sharp, shaky gasp leaving your lips as your nails dug into his skin, your body twitching from the overwhelming sensitivity.

He didn’t stop.

He couldn’t.

His breath was shaky, his voice cracking, his body shuddering as he buried himself inside you again, whimpering, his hips rolling, his hands gripping your thighs as he forced you to take him.

And fuck—he was crying.

Tears were stinging his eyes, his moans high, wrecked, his body completely losing control as he fucked into you, desperate, starved, whining with every thrust.

“Baby—fuck, I—I can’t stop—” His voice was strained, shaking, his breath ragged as he buried his face into your neck, his hands trembling as he held onto you, as he kept moving, as he kept fucking you even when you were already gone.

Your body jerked, a sharp, choked cry leaving your lips as another orgasm ripped through you, so strong, so shattering that your vision blurred, your body convulsing, your mind blanking out from how fucking wrecked you were.

And he followed right after.

A sharp, wrecked moan broke from his lips as his hips snapped, as his cock throbbed, as he spilled inside you all over again, so deep, so full, his release mixing with the mess already dripping between your thighs.

His entire body shuddered, his breath gasping, his hands clutching at you like he never wanted to let go.

And even after—

Even when his body was completely spent, when he was too wrecked to even move—

San was still inside you.

Still deep, still full, still holding on like he couldn’t bear to be apart from you.

And his voice?

It was weak, whispered, still shaky from everything he had just done.

But it was real.

It was raw.

“Baby…” A deep, shaky breath left him, his lips brushing against your temple, his arms still wrapped around you, still clutching onto you like you were the only thing keeping him sane.

“I—I love you.”

You didn’t know what to say.

Your heart was pounding, your breath shaky, your body still aching in the best possible way—but your mind was a fucking mess.

San wasn’t supposed to say that.

This wasn’t supposed to be love.

This was supposed to be a one-time thing, a secret indulgence, something you’d both pretend never happened in the morning.

But now—

Now, San was looking at you like you meant something.

Like you weren’t just the girl next door who had accidentally drugged him with aphrodisiac cookies.

Like you weren’t just someone he fucked senseless on the living room couch.

Like you were his.

And the worst part?

You wanted to be, badly.

“San…” Your voice was weak, your fingers shaky as they traced over his jaw, your heart twisting in your chest as you looked at him—really looked at him.

His eyes were red-rimmed, still glassy from how hard he had come, his lips were kiss-swollen, his hair was a mess, sticking to his damp forehead.

And he looked so fucking beautiful.

So wrecked.

So vulnerable.

So in love.

And it fucking terrified you.

Because if you let yourself believe it—

If you let yourself have him—

You didn’t think you’d ever be able to let him go.

“…Say it again.”

San’s breath hitched.

His fingers tightened on your waist, his lips parting slightly, his eyes widening just a fraction—

And then, in a voice so soft, so reverent, so raw it sent a fucking shiver down your spine—

“I love you.”

His breath was still shaky, his body still pressed against yours, his fingers still gripping your waist like he was afraid you’d disappear. His heart was pounding, his lips parted, his eyes locked onto you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

You could feel everything.

The heat of his skin, the way his chest rose and fell against yours, the way his cock was still inside you, still keeping you full, still reminding you exactly what just happened between you.

But none of that compared to the way he was looking at you.

Like he was afraid of what you’d say.

Like he already knew he had ruined everything.

Like he was begging for you to fix it.

And fuck—

You wanted to.

But you were terrified.

Because this wasn’t just about sex anymore.

This was real.

"Baby…” His voice was barely a whisper, his fingers trembling as he reached for your cheek, his touch so gentle, so careful—like he was scared he’d break you. “Please… say something.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight, your mind still spinning from everything—the way he had taken you, the way he had begged for you, the way he had said those words like they had been burning in his chest for so fucking long.

And maybe they had been.

Maybe you had just been too blind to see it.

Your lips parted, a shaky breath leaving them, your heart twisting as you met his gaze—those deep, desperate brown eyes, searching yours for something, anything to hold onto.

Your fingers curled into his hair, your chest tightening, your voice small as you finally, finally whispered—

“…You love me?”

San’s breath hitched.

His grip on your waist tightened, his lips parting, his entire body trembling as he swallowed hard, his voice so wrecked, so raw when he answered—

“I do.”

No hesitation.

No doubt.

Just San, stripped bare in front of you, exposed, vulnerable, completely yours.

And something inside you fucking snapped.

Because he meant it.

Because you had wanted this for so fucking long, wanted him for so fucking long—and now, he was right here, saying the words you never thought you’d hear, giving himself to you completely.

And you couldn’t stop yourself.

You grabbed him, your lips crashing into his, your fingers clutching at his hair, pulling him closer, deeper, letting him feel everything you couldn’t say yet.

He broke apart in your arms.

A shaky, wrecked moan slipped from his throat as he melted into you, his hands gripping you like you were the only thing keeping him alive, his body pressing you deeper into the couch, his kiss so needy, so desperate, so full of love that it made your chest ache.

And when he pulled back, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath hot against your lips, his voice still shaking—

“Say it back.”

Your heart stopped.

San’s fingers tightened on your waist, his breath ragged, his lips brushing against yours as he whispered again, this time more pleading, more wrecked—

“Baby, please… say it back.”

And you could feel it—

The way his hands shook, the way his body tensed, the way his eyes were glossy with something he was trying so fucking hard to hold back—

The way he needed this more than anything.

And fuck—

You did too.

Your fingers brushed over his cheek, your lips trembling, your heart pounding as you finally, finally let the words slip out—

“I love you.”

A sharp, shuddering breath left him, his lips crashing into yours again, his hands everywhere—on your face, your waist, your thighs—like he was memorizing you, like he never wanted to let go.

Like he never would.

And maybe, just maybe—

Neither would you.

[duskbornraven]

We've got this

An: I've had this in my head for a week at least. Forgive my ignorance of train lines (I googled as best as I could) and my rusty writing, it has been a minute since I've tried to write anything in a good long while.

Pairing: Jack Abbot x f!Reader

Warnings: General drunkenness, reader is a little hard on themselves, established relationship, age gap relationship, mild drunken angst, no use of y/n

Summary: You get a little too drunk at the bar and your boyfriend is kind enough to get you home.

Word Count: 3.1k

Maybe it was a mistake not to eat before meeting Jack for drinks after your shift. But you had almost missed your train and after a long shift a cold drink or two with your boyfriend was all you had been thinking about since three. And you assumed you could handle yourself, it wasn't like you hadn't ever been out drinking before, you weren’t some college freshman anymore. 

You could most certainly not handle yourself as it turned out. 

You were only two drinks in and it was hitting you hard. Harder than you expected it to. You could tell you were pushing it based on the way Jack's brow furrowed ever so slightly when you laughed maybe a little too hard at a joke, that admittedly was only a little funny. The way his hand steadied you when you got up from the table. A tether making sure you didn't fall face first into anything. 

Those sure hands wrapping firmly around your upper arm without having to look when you stumbled on the way to the bathroom at one point. He gave you a scrutinizing look as you stabilized against the table. Soft brown eyes watching you carefully, doing little to hide his worry. 

But when the time came he let you walk slowly to the bar, with the promise of settling your tab. Stumbling off once more from the table towards the bar. You muscled through the crowd to the bar top and leaned forwards making sure your wallet was actually with you. 

Maybe that's when the other man slipped into the space beside you. Too close for comfort but not raising any real alarms in the crowded environment. It took you a moment to notice him in the crowd waiting for a bartender. But he seemed to notice you almost as soon as he joined you at the bar. A too friendly smile spreading across his features when you met his gaze. 

He didn't say anything at first, scanning the drinks on tap and taking up the space next to you. Meanwhile you managed to keep mostly upright on the cool wood in front of you. Waiting for someone to make their way down to your end of the bar. 

“Busy tonight” The stranger finally broke the silence between you. 

“Always busy on a Friday.” You shrugged still focused on the thinning crowd and busy staff. 

“You're here often then?” There was something in his tone you didn't like. Something too familiar. You finally turned to see his smirking face watching you, giving you a pointed up and down glance. 

“Couldn't be more cliche if you tried.” And he laughed at that, leaning in just a little. Almost close enough to smell the beer on his breath and the faint smell of cigarette smoke clinging to him. “I've only been a few times.” You add with a shrug, pulling back as much as you could in tight quarters. 

Before he could reply an arm snaked between the pair of you, another landing firmly on the bar to your right, effectively caging you against the bar top. A solid chest at your back as a familiar scent flooded your senses. 

“You doing alright?” You could feel the heat of his breath against the back of your neck, the low, familiar timbre of Jack’s voice just quite enough for you to hear as he leaned into you. 

You nodded, focusing on the bar and not the immediate proximity of the man behind you. Desperately ignoring the way you could feel the heat of him radiating against your back.

“Good.” His tone was even, if clipped, hardened as he straightened back to his full height. How it always was when he was making a point. That only added to the growing flush in your cheeks.

It wasn't like you hadn't been in his arms before. But there was something about the way he held himself this time. There was an unspoken challenge in the way he pressed into your space. Proving to the other man that he was the one that belonged here. 

The stranger watched the pair of you for a moment, slowly relaxing back against the protective form behind you. Keenly aware that the new arrival was watching him, his face a stone mask but there was an edge in the eyes that bore into him. 

Eventually the forced silence was broken by the appearance of one of the bartenders finally closing you out. You offered the stranger an awkward nod nudging the still glaring Jack back through the crowd. Though he kept hold of your wrist this time, firm and reassuring, your pulse jumping against his palm. 

You managed to make it back into the cool night air, crisp and fresh after the packed bar. The sudden calm and quiet of the sidewalk made it abundantly clear that you were gone. Everything felt too clear, too crisp and focused, or maybe in comparison you were duller than normal. Either way the odds of you staggering safely home was off the table. 

You were tugged sideways, tucked securely into Jack's side wordlessly. His arms wrapped comfortably around your shoulder as he steered you down the street. And you walked like that for a while, stable with his support and safe from any danger you passed on the street. 

He herded you towards The T. His eyes flicking between traffic, passing groups of people, back to you and repeat. 

“I’m sorry” you broke the silence, eyes firmly on the street ahead, carefully avoiding running into anything you could avoid. Painfully aware of the slur in your voice. 

“Sorry for what?” He was watching the signal at the nearest crosswalk but glanced down at you as you spoke. 

You didn't have an answer really you just gestured at yourself, drunk and tired and leaning against him more heavily as you walked. “I knew I should have grabbed food on the way, and look at me.” You gestured vaguely at yourself, frustration and embarrassment slipping through in your voice. 

“We'll get you fed and sobered up at home” His grip tightened as you crossed the street, glancing down briefly at you, warm amber eyes meeting your own. “We’ve got this.” The signal to cross. 

The rest of the walk to the station was a bit of a blur to your muddled mind. You remembered standing in front of him, both his hands firmly on your shoulders as you stood waiting for the platform. He was still scanning, still watching out of the corner of his eyes as you waited, sometimes making direct eye contact with someone else on the platform. 

It was moments like this, in the uncertain hours of the night when you were with him it was easy to see the soldier in him. The straightening posture, his keen awareness, the way he pulled you just a little closer, held on just a little tighter. It was probably why it was so easy to feel safe with him, so easy to let yourself get too carried away. Because Jack always had you, no matter what, he was there. 

You reached up and rested a hand over his still against your shoulder. He laced his fingers with yours without thinking, only letting go to nudge you forwards once the doors slid open. Once you made it into a seat the weight of your body hit you, kinda of like a train. You rested your head against the window, glad for the cool press of the glass against your too warm body. The chance to sit was also a welcome break to your tired, drunken body. You don’t know if you actually fell asleep there or if it just felt like you had. 

You didn’t notice the way Jack fell just as heavily into the seat beside you, his head falling backwards momentarily, eyes falling closed. You didn’t notice him watching you, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as you all but passed out next to him. He only had to get you home, get you back in one piece and then he would breathe. 

You were drunk, well you both were, he wasn’t sure you had noticed that he wasn’t at his best tonight. But he knew you were much, much worse than he was and he had to keep it together just a little longer. He would feed you, get you to bed and then worry about getting himself in order. He had muscled through worse than this for much less more times than he honestly cared to count.  

When it was time to exit you were pulled from your half conscious state by a firm shake of your shoulder and a pull at your arm. The interior of The T swam back into view, stopping at a familiar station. Your poor boyfriend was gently tugging you out of your seat, making sure you still had everything. You were more steady on your feet as you made your way back out into the chilly night air. 

“Almost home, stay with me.” A hand took yours, not so much steering you as guiding this time as he made his way up the street, maybe a little faster now that you were so close to being back for the night. What had to have been a twenty minute trip in total had felt like hours. You couldn’t imagine how he was holding up having to lead you around on top of the commute. 

When Jack's door finally came into view the tension left his shoulders a little more. He fumbled with his keys, needing a moment to actually focus to find it. Pushing the door open and helping you inside before letting his back hit the door behind him.

“Food and bed?” He looked over at you, it was a question but there wasn't really a choice.

You offered a nod, sitting on a step by the doorway and working to pull your shoes from your feet, ready to be done with them for the night. 

“Do you care what the food is?” Jack joined you on the step, motioning for your foot and effortlessly pulling the shoe free.

“It doesn't matter.” you began your attack on the other foot, determined to get this One on your own and mentally cursing whoever made them so stupidly complicated to fasten. 

This time he didn't take your foot, instead letting you try again until you managed to pull it from your Foot. A small victory For the night but it felt like conquering a mountain in the moment. 

He got up with a groan, heading out of sight towards the kitchen and leaving you to follow if you wanted. The sound of the sink running followed shortly after. You followed after and were promptly handed a glass of water. 

“You really do like taking care of me it must be-” you took the glass and leaned against a counter well out of his way. 

“Don't even start, I get enough shit about it at work.” His voice cut you off from behind the fridge door. 

“I was going to say it has to do with you being a doctor!” You protest “What do people even say at work?” 

“Older guy, younger girl, I think you can figure out the rest” Jack scoffed and leaned around the door to look at you. “I can't believe this is news to you.” 

You shrugged, now fully supported against the frim stone and wood at your back. “I don’t hear anything about it.” And that was true, it wasn’t like you hid the fact that you were in a relationship with him. 

Jack emerged from the fridge an arm load of leftover boxes precariously stacked to give him the mobility to close the door. “Figured it was easier than actually cooking, all things considered.” He unloaded them onto the empty countertop between you. 

It wasn’t hard to find something that warmed up pretty good and considering how many times a week the man came home exhausted and too tired to actually make a meal and picked something up on his way home. 

And it wasn’t until you were sitting across from him, slowly sobering as you began to eat that you noticed it. The way the scent of liquor lingered on him, the slightly glassy look in his eyes when he looked over at you. He wasn’t much better off than you were, maybe better at fighting through it but still drunk. 

“You’re staring.” It wasn’t a question, but it might as well have been. Jack’s eyes now solely focused on yours again, still just a little unfocused. 

“You’re drunk.” It wasn't an accusation, but again, it might as well have been. 

“I am.” There was the smallest flash of amusement across his features when he said it. A brightening in those already warm eyes. 

“How? You didn’t drink anymore than I did.” Sure you had been way worse off comparatively but normally you could handle yourself better. And you had sort of always assumed that was the case for Jack as well. You didn’t go out drinking all the time but you always felt like you were the one pushing it, almost tipping over the cusp of overdoing it. Meanwhile he was always in control just as he had been tonight, or so it had seemed. 

“While you were there, sure.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, looking away to take another drink from his own cup. “Got there early and had a few while I was waiting.” 

“And you couldn’t even wait for me.” Your own expression cracked, weariness giving way to a lazy smile. 

“Maybe I wanted to keep up with you this time” He smiled softly at the table, not quite meeting your eyes. “Maybe come stumbling back to my place like a bunch of drunk college kids. And not the responsible old man for a change.” 

“Jack” You started, leaning across the table and taking hold of his arm. “You do know I didn’t start dating you assuming that it would be like that right?” He glanced up at you, placing a hand over yours. As strong and as reassuring as it always was, a lifeline, your lifeline when you needed one. 

When he didn’t say anything you continued “I am the one who should probably be following your lead based on tonight’s events. You weren’t the one slowing me down or stumbling over themselves at the bar.” You couldn’t help but laugh when he gave a knowling little nod in agreement. “And you’re the one who I can count on when I get bad. I don’t need someone who can drink me under the table. I need you.” 

His eyes snapped onto yours as you said it, his hand squeezing yours tightly. “You might have that a little more backwards than you think.” His voice had gone quiet again, softer than normal. But he smirked slowly as he added “And for the record I could absolutely drink you under a table even on your best night.” You pulled away from him in mock indignation, folding your arms. 

“Bed?” He asked, pushing away from the table and getting to his feet slowly. Your body begged for sleep at this point, you were pushing past your normal sleep schedule as it was and the more you sobered up the more exhausted you became. 

“Absolutely.” You took the offered hand but braced more on the table than Jack. He was sturdy but you didn’t trust your own body at the moment. 

He stepped further into your space, an arm wrapping around your lower back and pulling you flush with his chest and leaning down to kiss you. It was everything you loved about him in a single kiss. Confident and firm but not harsh or demanding, soft but insistent and demanding your attention. When he pulled away he still held you to him, watching your face slowly lose the flush that had colored your cheeks and brought out the color of your eyes. 

“I’ll meet you upstairs.” He murmured and pressed a kiss to your temple before letting go of you. You nodded, swallowing louder than you wanted before making your way back through the entryway and carefully climbing up the steps to the second floor. 

You had already brushed your teeth and settled into bed by the time you heard him ascending the steps. When Jack came into view his brow was furrowed, the expression he got when something was running circles in his head. 

“Something on your mind?” Your voice muffled by the bedding gathered around you, you peered over the sheets to look up at his silhouette in the dim light. 

“Nothing that can’t wait until the morning” He emerged from the bathroom and slid into bed beside you. “When we’re both thinking a little more clearly.” He pulled you against him in the bed, an arm looped over your hips. He pressed one last kiss to the side of your head and that was the last thing you could remember before sleep finally claimed you and you slipped away. 

Jack laid awake for what felt like an eternity after you, listening to your gentle breathing in his arms. It was too early for his body to be willing to sleep, tired as he was as he too slowly began to sober up. But one thought just kept circling in his head as he stared off into the dark corner of the room past you. 

He wanted to take the next step, he wanted you here with him. To come home to this, to have you be the norm was something that had been on his mind for a while now. Why it was so pressing tonight he wasn’t entirely sure, maybe it was the stupid drunken conversation. Or maybe it was just the natural progression. 

You stirred against him, worming your way impossibly closer, warm and soft and more than he deserved. And he knew this is why that next step was on his mind. Because you were the only one he could see in this bed in his home, hell even in his life like this. 

He sighed, watching his breath gently flutter your hair, and closed his eyes to attempt to rest even for a little while like this. In the morning he would figure out what to say and actually cook you something while he was at it. For now, he would enjoy the calm at the end of the night that you always managed to bring. 

[anisespice]

“ the fuck-it list ” || hq! pt. 5

one || two || three || four

synopsis: there’s a list going around consisting of hot guys on campus that are deemed “fuckable” with theories as to what they’d be like in bed. it’s all fun and games until somehow your boyfriend ends up on this list. 

pairing: various x gn!reader [ suna, aran, kita ]

warnings: mature content. MDI. cursing, suggestive language, mild objectification, atsumu slander/bulling (mostly from suna lol), mentions of soft dom/brat-taming, breeding-kink kita supremacy, not proofread so there may be some errors here and there, and I think that's it :]

notes: NO ONE LOOK AT ME THIS TOOK SO FREAKING LONG THAT WE'RE IN A WHOLE NEW YEAR SINCE THE LAST ONE WAS POSTED LOL But, I wanted to make sure I portrayed the characters as accurately as possible, and I've once again been hit with the burnout stick :'))) so thank you so so so so much for your patience, hope you enjoy!

tagged: @daedaep69 , @ahahadumbo , @viktoryn , @mdsb , @ourgoddessathena , @ushygushybaby , @hyori2 , @lumpywolf , @fantasycantasy, @captaincyberqueen, @tsukiran

SUNA's messy as hell, you bet your ass he knows about the list.

Most definitely clowned Atsumu when the whole mix-up between him and Osamu went down a couple weeks ago. He'd poke that dead horse out of pure boredom or just to document his reactions for a laugh later, resulting in some of the most unflattering, yet entertaining footage of your mutual friend that you were certain he'd keep for blackmail.

“You didn’t need the poor guy’s misery in every possible angle you could think of.” You shook your head at him, fighting the grin on your face. Sitting across from him at a booth in the canteen, you pass the time in between classes by letting him show you photo after photo, video after video of Atsumu’s latest performance.

How his storage managed to survive was beyond you.

Suna shrugged, taking a sip from his drink. “Sure I did. Need to have variety for when I make merch and sell it at his games. ‘m thinking tshirts, buttons, stickers, y’know. The whole nine yards.”

“You’re terrible.” You shook your head again as you sifted through blurry photo after blurry photo.

“Terribly smart.”

“Mm. Debatable.”

“Tsk,” he reached over to flick your forehead, “keep hating and you won’t get a cut of the profit.” Despite him softly glaring at you, he grinned at the giggle you graced him with in response, flicking his forehead back. “Anyway, wanna see the one of him throwing a chair at ‘samu for calling him the mid-twin?”

You paused, eyes widening. “He did not.” 

Suna lifted his arm to give you room to lean against his side. Despite your better judgment, and a smidge of pity for the blonde, you couldn’t deny he had some pretty priceless reactions that never failed to get a laugh out of you. Plus, it was all in good fun at the end of the day—No harm, no foul, right?

Immediately snuggling up to his side, he took the phone back to scroll right to said video, angling it so you could watch it together. You chortled at the sound of your boyfriend behind the camera, panting and laughing as he attempted to hold the camera steady while sprinting away from Atsumu before inevitably getting caught right before the recording abruptly stopped. You blinked in shock, mouth agape as you slowly connected the dots with the last few milliseconds you had. “Did he..Did he tackle you??” 

“Yep. Like a big, blonde buffalo. Life flashed before my eyes.”

“Oh my god,” you replied, hand coming over your mouth as you fought back your giggles. Suna squinted at you, arm that was curled over your shoulder coming down so he could lightly pinch your ear.

“You’re ‘posed to laugh at his expense, not mine.”

This only made giggling harder to contain, eventually morphing into cackles as the last few moments of the video replayed in your mind over and over. Suna pursed his lips, placing the phone on the table to free his other hand as it came to pinch your other ear. He tugged on them, not so hard to hurt but enough to get his point across as he pouted at you. “Quit it.”

More laughs bubbled out of you, now at his ridiculous retaliation as he pulled your ears far enough to resemble a monkey’s. You raised a brow, reaching up to grab at his wrists. “You quit it.”

“No, you.”

You squinted. “No, you.”

“You.”

“Rin-Ow! Stop it, you ass!”

This little back and forth went on for a few minutes, up until it eventually ends with you in a small headlock, biting his forearm in retaliation. It didn’t hurt at all, except maybe your pride, especially when you heard the familiar sound of his phone snapping pictures—When did he even grab it? You pulled back in shock, looking up and meeting your own gaze on the screen as he rapidly snapped away, even having the nerve to give a peace sign in some of them with the very arm you were latched onto.

You gaped in horror, “No you didn't! Delete those!”

He hummed in feigned thought, keeping his phone just out of reach as you struggled to snatch it from him. Rin smirked, “No way, now we both can laugh, babe. We'll call it even.”

With a glare, you opened your mouth to retort but he immediately shut you up by leaning down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss, lazily so, and swallowing any protest you tried to voice until you eventually melted into it. You could just feel his smug grin, and you were tempted to bite his bottom lip, but he pulled away before you could commit. He snorted as you still glared at him, although it softened more and more with every kiss he placed on your face to placate your sourness toward him.

Gradually, the kisses started to grow wet, making you squirm away with an annoyed whine, but he merely tightened his hold on you keeping you from getting far. Despite your struggle you couldn't help but laugh, "Ew! Ugh! You're so fucking gross!"

"Mm, gross for you." He placed another to your lips before releasing you. You gently pinched him in retaliation, muttering a small threat to his kneecaps if those photos of you ever saw the light of day.

After the two of you settled back down in a comfortable silence, your mind started to wander back to the discussion from earlier. With the abundance of guys who've been placed on said list so far, Atsumu of all people one of them, you couldn't help but wonder... Looking over at him as he played with his straw, you asked, "Hey...do you think you're on the list?"

Rin paused, then gave a small shrug, "Dunno. Never checked."

You scoffed, "I find that hard to believe. You weren't ever curious?"

"Not really, always thought it was kinda dumb. I only grew mildly interested after 'tsumu threw a tantrum about it, saw it as another way to get on his nerves. Other than that, it's never crossed my mind. Besides, as if I'd give him the satisfaction of knowing I'm on it, too." He blinked, then looked at you. "On second thought, yeah, check and see so I can dox whoever posted it before that knucklehead catches wind."

"Rin." You slapped his arm, knowing he was half-serious. "We can just report it."

He merely shrugged again, internally debating, but didn't say anything as you did some digging on the account to see if anything came up. It helped that the admins of the account started alphabetizing after posting so many entries, it made it easier to navigate through the endless sea of thirst and shameless threads. When you finally made it to the 'R's and noticed how short the section was, you had high hopes. Until, right there plain on your screen, paired with an off-guard photo of him you posted once on your story in past, was his entry.

‘Rintarō Suna. 6’1ft of malicious intent. A straight up walking red flag, but it’s okay—Red’s a sexy color. Definitely the kind of guy who’d call you “Bro” as a term of endearment, then make out with you while using your ass as a stress ball. He can’t keep his hands to himself to save his LIFE yet swears on it that he’s not clingy lol. But don’t let the cuddly side of him distract from the fact that he can be such a little SHIT ♡. He’d edge you for hours, rearrange your insides like furniture, then have the NERVE to tease you for walking funny. You’ll let it slide though…his mouth’s good at other things than just being smart. MASTER at giving head, treats it like an art form, would rather eat a pair of jeans that ever go a day without you on his tongue. 8.5/10. And he for sure takes pictures/videos of you for his viewing pleasure later. Say cheese!’

As you both stared blankly at your screen, him with furrowed brows and you struggling to hold down a smile. Rin eventually kissed his teeth. "Can't even be mad, read me like a damn book. Was this weirdo in the room with us taking notes, or something?"

You chortled, "Don't even joke like that."

"I'm just saying, tweak a few things here and there, you'd think I ghost-wrote this."

"Sooo, I take it you're no longer worried about Atsumu seeing this?"

Suna smirked, "Hell no, at least mine's accurate. Send him the link."

“Your bitch-ass ex is about to piss me off, bro.”

Upon your unannounced arrival into his dorm, courteous of the spar key he gave you for emergencies, you figured now was a good time to exercise that privilege because this was a borderline catastrophe. Granted, you could’ve approached it more delicately, but you were already upset from the nonsense you witnessed on your timeline during your doom-scrolling session.

ARAN gave you a look of disapproval, but decided to address one issue at a time. “First of all, we’ve kissed. Many times. I am well aways from being a ‘bro’. Second, language. Thirdly, when ain’t they pissin’ ya off?”

“Whatever, you better get’em before I do. You know I’m not above drastic solutions, I’ll steal their dog and hold him for ransom, I’m being so forreal.”

He snorted, shaking his head. Closing his laptop to give you his full attention, nodding at the chair across from him for you to take. “How ‘bout we talk first before riskin’ jail.”

You sat down and handed him your phone, “Read that and I bet you’ll be on board in seconds.”

Aran squinted at the screen in confusion, scanning over the contents before his eyes widened to the size of volleyballs and jaw dropping to the table. You nodded in triumph having predicted this reaction, smugly crossing your arms as you said, “Uh-huh. Bet dog-napping sounds pretty good right about now.”

“No.” He deadpanned, but still overtly shook. “What even is this?”

“It’s called ‘The Fu—” a small glare from Aran. You rolled your eyes, correcting yourself, “The Eff-It List’.”

“Ok, I can see that. But, what is it?”

You scoffed, “Basically a perverted forum that talks about strangers and their kinks or whatever. Purely speculative for the most part, but recently they started letting people send in their own entries. And yours came straight from the horse’s mouth.” You reached over to point at an all too familiar username, well aware of it being his ex’s burner account in their hopes to remain anonymous.

'Aran Ojiro. 6’0ft of tall, dark, and handsome. If you’re searching for a Service Dom with a heart of gold, then you’ve come to the right man. When it comes down to the dirty and flirty, this hunk would be an Olympic level threat to the bums in your timeline. Not only plowing a hole straight into your vertebrae but cooking you a bomb-ass meal afterwards that will have you wanting his pants around his ankles for a round who-knows-what. Truly a gentleman, won’t finish until you do at least twice. And aftercare of a God, we’re talking rose petal baths, oil massages, honeyed affirmations, and finishing off with warm cuddles in those beefy arms of his. Yum. Aran’s big on communication; tell him what you like, what you don’t like, whatever you say, goes. Will make you feel like royalty but rearrange your insides like a common concubine. This absolute King gets a 100/10 from us.'

The way his face was scrunched up, you would think he ate something sour. You’ve only ever seen him make such a stank face at the twins whenever their bickering escalated to physical violence. He was silent for a long moment as he analyzed the post, re-reading it again and again only to grow more perturbed. He exhaled deeply through his nose before handing you back the phone, reaching into his pocket to grab his own. Aran began to type while you were in the midst of conjuring up your revenge plan.

“So, I was thinking, they normally walk their dog in the morning before class, like ass-crack of dawn early-“

“Language.”

“-and they’ll most likely have their guard down, right? So I’m thinking you’ll hide in the bushes, ready to release the squirrel we’ll use as bait, and while they’re distracted I’ll sneak from behind with a shovel and-“

“There. It’s been taken care of.”

The words died in your throat, stunned to silence. You blinked a few times in bewilderment, and watching as Aran set his phone down to open his laptop back up and resume working on his assignment. Mentally floundering, you leaned forward with raised eyebrows, “Come again?”

“They’re gonna get the post deleted.”

“Wha—Who?” You squawked.

“My ex. I sent a DM statin’ that we know they’re involved and that I’m not comfortable with this being spread, so unless they want student affairs involved for sexual harassment, they better work on gettin’ that post taken down. Give it a minute, bet it’ll be gone.”

You blinked once more. Then, after a few minutes later of more stunned silence, you refreshed the page. Sure enough…his post wasn’t there anymore. Not a trace of it anywhere, as if it never existed. With a disbelieved chortle, you dropped your phone on the table and slumped back in your chair, staring into space. Aran grinned, eyes trained on his laptop screen as he cheekily said, “Ya did say get’em before you do.”

With a playful huff, you crossed your arms. “Damn killjoy.”

“Language.”

You slowly grinned, mischievously. “…Shit.”

“Oi.”

You raised your hands in mock surrender, relenting as you giggled. Aran shook his head at your antics, resuming his work. However, you leaned forward to push his laptop screen down a little so that his attention was on you once more, pausing his typing fingers. He raised an expectant brow, waiting for you to speak. You gave him a pointed look, “You blocked them after sending that DM, right?”

He snorted, reaching over to gently pat your head. “And reported their account.”

You beamed with satisfaction, leaning back in your chair. “Good. Fuck ‘em—Oop!Waitwait, hang on, it was a slip of the tongue, I forgot, I’m sorry!”

Aran immediately closed his laptop and began to stand, rounding the table to approach you menacingly, although fear wouldn’t be the emotion you’d describe as he closed in on you like prey. You didn’t even attempt to make an escape as he scooped you up in his aforementioned beefy arms, squeals following after your giggles as he carried you into the next room, ready to give you what he deemed a suitable punishment for your potty-mouth.

The king hath spoken.

You fought to contain your laughter at the sight of your boyfriend’s gears visibly turning in his head as he stared at your phone screen, brows furrowed and hands on his hips like a dad judging someone’s front lawn. KITA was at a loss for words, to say the least. Like Aran, it merely confused him upon the first read, and re-reading it over and over aided nothing. You could no longer hold it in when Kita eventually looked at you with a blank face and said, “Not true.”

Tickled, you decided to tease him by feigning ignorance. “Hm? You think so? It sounds pretty accurate to me.”

Kita frowned, leaning over your shoulder to re-read it again, just in case he was missing something you were seeing.

'Shinsuke Kita. 5’9ft of calm before the storm. At first, we chalked Kita up as a boring vanilla, someone that doesn’t like to step outside of the norm, and blends in with the mundane. However, what would appear to be a dreary missionary nightmare can easily be disputed when you take a deeper look into those carmel hues of his. As we’ve mentioned in a previous post, it’s always the quiet ones you need to be cautious of. Sure, he’ll invite you over to show off his beautiful garden, innocent enough. Well…needless to say, his garden won’t be the only place he plants his seed. With the right person, and the right amount of pressure, we believe Kita to be a closeted pervert with a RAGING breeding kink. Whether you can or cannot conceive, it doesn’t matter to him–Mating press, full nelson, prone-bone, you name it, he’s doing it. Then, he’ll tell you about what produce is in season as if you aren’t fighting for your life right after, continuing his day like he didn’t take his time molding your insides to the shape of him. Scary. 10/10'

He shook his head, opinion standing firm. “’s too vulgar. Have I ever been vulgar to ya?”

You pursed your lips, shrugging coyly. “Well…there have been a couple times.”

Kita blinked, then took a minute to think about it. And he thought hard. Slowly, he started to become concerned, contemplating the last time you were intimate in case this were a possibility. Surely you would’ve told him if he was acting out of line…

The act doesn’t last long, especially when he looked back at you and plainly said, “Yer teasin’ me.”

With a small chuckle, you gave up. “Fine, you got me. You have been nothing but a gentleman during sex, I won’t argue that. But, you have to admit, there were a few things in here that were spot on.”

“Like what?” He crouched down, continuing his task.

You gestured around, “Well…you did invite me over to look at your garden.”

Kita paused his pruning, looking around at your pointed observation. He hummed, then gave a small shrug. “Not to jus’ sleep with ya afterward. My intentions were strictly pure.”

“Ok, fair. But, you do want a family.”

“‘s a normal goal to have, and in due time, we’ll accomplish it. Once I’ve married ya, of course. That don’t make me a ‘closeted pervert’.”

You grinned, crossing your arms. “You didn’t deny the ‘raging breeding kink’ part-”

“Look at how well yer favorite sprout’s doin’, love.” He was quick to change the subject, beckoning you to come see for yourself. You humored him, crouching down next to him in the dirt, and happily gazing over his shoulder to watch him delicately handle your leafy little guy.

But, if you squint, you could see a little tinge of pink in Kita’s ears.

© 2025-2026 anisespice ッ all rights reserved. likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

[coldilikeit]

Isekai reader x Batfam (Neglected au)

Chapter 10- You're too poor for that

Mild time skip*

____________________________

"Dick if you keep being hostile, I'll have no choice but to send you back to Bludhaven, it's best if you don't join us for tonight" Bruce says firmly

"What the fuck."

It was movie night and it was your turn to pick, Viviana excitedly said she had a movie she wanted everyone to watch and snatched the remote away from you, only for Cassandra to snatch the remote back from her and give it to you "it's not your turn yet" she says, in another attempt to get the remote Dick pushed her slightly but she fell to the ground and wailed

"S-s-sorry... I'm so weak and petite, it's not your fault....."

You see Stephanie's face physically recoil while Barbara looks away completely to hide her stifling laughter, you were sure everyone was laughing, As Dick was about to help her up, Bruce's vexed voice cuts through the laughter "Your sister is hurt and you laugh?"

"It was all fun, she's not even hurt that much, the floor's carpeted" Jason reasons but Bruce is having none of it "Richard apologize."

Viviana smiles and gets in between Bruce and her brothers "it's fine! I'm fine! I'm sure Dick didn't mean to hurt me" she turns to Dick "You're my brother... So.. I forgive you" then she reached out her hand to him and as if on cue, the moon shines through the window to give Viviana this glowing effect

Damn... This girl got the manhwa lighting you think

Protagonist! The moon has shined a halo on your hair, you look like an angel! Would you like to add a wind effect for 500 points?

"yeah, yeah sure" she whispered

A cool breeze flowed into the living room and Viviana's hair danced with the wind

"why is there wind here aren't the windows shut?" You ask confused, Bruce clenched his fists and looked at Dick expectantly, hoping he'd apologize and they can have a nice night together

But when has Dick ever backed down?

"I barely touched her, she fell on her own, and it never would have happened if she hadn't tried to take the remote away from Cass and (Name)"

"That doesn't matter you still pushed her"

"She's a vigilante, she'll be fine" Tim backs Dick up "I don't condone family hurting family!"

"Sure wasn't a problem when they were hurting me" you decided to butt in, you get that Viviana is supposed to be the loved one, but isn't this a bit biased? He's even turning on the others

"Dick if you keep being hostile, I'll have no choice but to send you back to Bludhaven, it's best if you don't join us for tonight" Bruce says firmly

"what the fuck."

"I'm serious Rickard!"

"fine then" Dick leaves the living room, you sigh and leave as well heading for your room, and everyone (except Viviana) followed

_____________________________

"this wasn't supposed to happen"

"this wasn't supposed to happen"

"this wasn't supposed to happen"

Viviana grits and teeth, she was supposed to be an angel, she read this once in a manhwa, where the protagonist forgives someone who hurt them and was seen as an angel by all, so what if in that story the person who was forgiven was literally trying to kill the main character and Dick just pushed her onto a soft carpeted floor

She even spent points for dramatic effect.

Protagonist, this is bad. Your story is supposed to be a happy family, you've created a rift, and it's not looking good, you'll fail at this point

"I don't know what's going wrong! Listen I've done my best to look like a saint!"

Maybe you should try being a good person

"I am a good person! That's my character, I'm so kind and good and patient that the family can't help but gravitate towards my kind soul!"

Brainwashing someone isn't a kind thing to do...

"Shut up!" Viviana throws a picture frame on the screen, the screen fuzzes out for a few moments before going back to normal

(⁠｡⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠)

Bruce: 100/100

Dick: 0/100

Jason: 0/100

Tim: 0/100

Damian: 0/100

Duke: 0/100

Stephanie: 0/100

Cassandra: 0/100

Barbara:0/100

"How much is the love potion?"

15000 points, You're too poor for that. Make them love you manually

____________________________

Bruce didn't come home for a few days, he apologized to Dick and left, Sometimes superman keeps on stopping by to check in on the kids and Gotham

Life went like normal, Dick decided to stay cause Bruce wasn't there and as for Viviana?

She uhh... Keeps trying to frame you

She had no assignment? It's because you poured water in her bag and ruined it

She couldn't do her presentation? You broke her laptop

It didn't go well.

"Oh please, (Name) doesn't drink water, all she has is (Favorite unhealthy drink), you can't even get your lie straight"

"She probably had a good reason, you're so shitty"

Then Bruce came back.

He came back with a grim expression, a grim expression that disappeared when he looked at his children, then came back harsher than ever when he looked at Viviana

"You." He grumbled

"Let's talk."

____________________________

Dick: I'm running away y'all won't see me again

Bruce: Runs away first*

Also if you guys didn't notice, the student who kept on asking (Name) uncomfortable questions after she was attacked by the Scarecrow was also Viviana

___________________________

@jellyedkazoo @vanilliona @shyenemyperson @popboomcha @plsfckmedxddy @devotedlyshamelessdetective @dorkatron-2000 @yuyuzi-ling @sweetsugerskull @butratherbutrather @yu-reiii @clementinesyummy @lfiee @iamapotatoe @type-ink @unknownloner1345 @randomlyappearingartist @justatimidcreator @sirenetheblogger @00hellohello00 @the-dumber-scaramouche @wizzerreblogs @tinybrie @pearlyribbons @cruzeforce4256

[kisakis-boyfriend]

OH SHIT UH baizhu x monster reader because I've been thinking about him lately. maybe something dubcon-y? I love pathetic men whimpering and crying 🎃

Author's Note: My mind went places, y'all… very horny places. 💀

Pairings: Baizhu x male reader

Warnings: Male plant monster!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!Baizhu, sort of gullible Baizhu, dubcon, handjob, facial, riding, aphrodisiac, mild dumbification

Why he had to run out of this particular herb was beyond him. As if that wasn't annoying enough, his suppliers were out of stock and wouldn't be able to ship him any more. The location of this herb has become increasingly dangerous, and no one could figure out why the men sent to gather these herbs came back… weird, to say the least. Nonetheless, Baizhu needed those herbs to treat his patients.

Was it a stupid idea to travel out there by himself and gather them by hand; yes, most certainly, and Changsheng told him as much, but a doctor's mind is a puzzling thing.

And that's how he ended up here; in the high mountains of Chenyu Vale. Normally, one would expect to run into a few monsters, at the very least, but Baizhu had yet to see a single one during his trek. There were plenty of other creatures, and the foliage didn't seem withered, so it's not as if this place was devoid of life nor on a biological decline—there was simply a lack of danger. Which is a strange occurrence, considering the reports he'd read…

That fact really should be comforting to the frail doctor, but in truth, it made a shiver run down his spine. His eyes nervously scanned over the immediate grassy grounds, hoping to catch a glimpse of the herb he so desperately needed — desperate enough to set foot on this mountain alone.

It took a bit more searching, but the herb in question was flourishing just around the back of one particular mountain. Baizhu carefully made his way towards the area, picking one herb and inspecting it to check its quality and that it was, in fact, the correct herb. Picking a few more, Baizhu comes across one plant that refuses to be plucked — an unusually tough herb, resisting his attempts to yank it out from the dirt.

As he goes to inspect the stem, a soft voice cries out; “U-um… excuse me? Could you help me…?” Looking over his shoulder, the doctor spots a person's head sticking up out of the ground—except their skin has a pale green hue to it, and as this person rises up, he notices how the ground around them shifts; as though the ground is a part of them.

Baizhu turns halfway, cautiously keeping an eye on you as he questions, “…What do you need help with?” The way your body flows effortlessly when you move—creating ripples in the immediate area around your torso—piques Baizhu's curiosity.

“O-oh! Um… it's a little embarrassing, if I'm being honest, sir…” you begin, “As you've probably guessed, I am not a human — think of me as a type of dendro spirit, I guess? Uh, anyways, there's this…ritual, of sorts, that only a human can help me with–”

The whole time you're explaining this predicament of yours, Baizhu keeps a watchful eye on you to make sure you're not tricking him. Even though you come across as rather sheepish.

“…I understand if you don't trust me, I just don't know what else to do…humans don't come around here too often, and the pain has become so much worse–”

“I'll help you.” He interjects. The sparkles in your eyes force him to hold back a chuckle as you thank him a million times over. “Please take me to this plant of yours.”

You excitedly take off, essentially a torso and head gliding halfway inside the ground, while this kind human with green hair trails just behind. Arriving at your destination, Baizhu kneels down, giving you a glance, and you return it nervously.

Baizhu eyes the plant inquisitively, staring at the odd shape and strange fleshy texture of the whole thing.

“Go on, doctor, I-I'm ready…” you prompt, giving the man a shy smile to mask your nerves.

With a quick breath to strengthen his resolve, the doctor raises his hands, wrapping them both around the plant and lightly squeezing it until a wet substance seeps out through the petals. “A-ah! aAh-” you gasp suddenly.

“I'm sorry—did that hurt?!”

You shake your head, nearly whimpering as you try to assure him, “N-no… just surprised me. Your hands… they're a bit cold…”

“My apologies, they should warm up soon enough. Shall we keep going?” Said like a true doctor. This stranger with kind eyes has been nothing but gentle with you so far, helping out a non-human creature whom he only met a few minutes ago, even if he finds your request a tad strange.

More wetness falls down his hands, pouring from the plant the more he squeezes and twists his hands around the elongated object. He experimentally moves his hands to other areas, and when Baizhu's thumbs rub and press on the tip of the plant, you're unable to hold back a sharp intake of air. Your eyes roll back momentarily, and you chomp down on your lower lip to conceal the noises threatening to escape.

The doctor eyes your pained expressions with worry written all over his face. “It's… fine — I'm fine. The pain… is not that bad… please, don't stop, doctor.”

As you wish, Baizhu milks more and more liquid from the plant, creating a pool of it underneath the stem of the plant—gradually creeping towards his knees and threatening to soak his pants. For the most part, it feels and looks like regular water, but there's a faint sensation of stickiness on his palms, close to the surface of the plant.

While this is supposed to be a medical procedure, Baizhu can't help feeling a bit… embarrassed by the whole situation. This plant of yours—it is a bit phallic. Not to mention how the method used to wring out the liquid is akin to… uh, a specific hand movement performed on phallic objects. The suggestive sounds coming from your mouth don't help that either. Baizhu can't ignore you when you moan out “Faster… faster, doctor- aah~ Keep stroking it like that… it's definitely woRKING-!”

The more Baizhu watches himself squeeze the glistening liquid from your plant, the deeper into a trance he falls — soon enough he's fallen so deep that he shamelessly jerks off the phallic plant until the tip opens up and explodes like a volcano; shooting thick, honey-like ropes all over Baizhu's pretty face.

The substance drips all down his features — clumping in strands of hair, clinging to his glasses, dripping from his nose and chin, and even a little sliding into his open mouth. “A-ah! Y-you… you did it… you made me release it all, doctor~” you comment — your words are the only thing penetrating that fuzzy mind of his right now. “Thank you soooo much~ But, could I trouble you with one more thing?” you lean forward, gently holding the doctor's chin so that he can't turn away from you. “Won't you help me again? It's the only way for me to feel all better.”

“Aah…? I don't… understand…” Baizhu breathes, confused and seemingly in a daze. It's such a precious sight to behold, really.

You reach out and slide a hand up and down the doctor's stomach, teasingly pushing his top up a few times before moving towards the edge of his pants. “You'll help me, won't you? You're such a kind doctor, after all~” you remind him. Baizhu's pants are quickly yanked down, removed the rest of the way by vines that the good doctor never noticed before…

With his sensitive areas laid bare for you to see, Baizhu gasps, frozen in place as your hands feel up his waist and thighs, pushing the latter apart so that you can inspect his body. Sliding two fingers towards his rear, you find that special hole humans have and tease around the rim of it. “Aha! There it is. I'm sorry to ask so much of you, but… I really need this right now.”

While he has no idea what you mean, the doctor senses something amiss within your words. Your fingers attempt to push inside of him, and Baizhu clumsily refuses. “I-I don't think… don't think that I can do that, young man… mm ooh~”

Impatiently, you lift him up and pull him towards you, hovering his hole right above the plant he'd previously milked. A little burst of liquid shoots from the tip, splashing against Baizhu's entrance, which startles him. The consistency of the liquid feels just like the substance it coated his face in earlier; thick, sticky, and warm.

While Baizhu's mind tries to resist, his body is doing quite the opposite, already lowering itself down until the tip of the plant is entering his ass. “A-AAH! Wait–!” he begs. But it's too little too late as your phallic plant penetrates him with ease, thanks to that honey-like fluid. The fleshy appendage pushes a wave of liquid inside his hole, and it creates a wet mess all over his ass, thighs, and the ground below as you begin to fuck him.

“Mm doctor… you feel incredible~ Hehe, look at that—this little guy is having fun too~” Baizhu blushes deeply, shaking his head while you watch his cock bounce every time your plant cock thrusts in.

“N-no… please, harder–! This is weird… aah~ so good~ ” the doctor grits his teeth, biting his lower lip as he grows frustrated by his own mouth betraying him. The cutest whimpers are the only sounds coming from his mouth as you continue your assault on his hole, thrusting your plant deeper and deeper. The amount of liquid gushing out of Baizhu's ass is ungodly now; sticky, squelchy, slick fluids that overflow with every thrust, filling his tummy until it hurts with how full it is.

“You're doing amazing, doctor! That terrible ache is almost gone, I j-just need to– guh!” you suddenly slam your hips into him, laughing as a pang of pleasure wracks your body and causes you to bury your cock in him. Your hands fly to his waist, and you bounce the human while he whimpers some more.

Tears begin to roll down Baizhu's cheeks, staining his glasses with a salty film as you release another round of that thick substance; this time inside the doctor's body. You pant wildly, mere inches from his face while your plant cock spreads open inside of his hole, releasing far too much liquid inside his belly.

[funnyexel]

what if your stalker loses the remaining piece of human decency he has left

tw: non-con

okay.

he was scaring you, acting extremely scary and out of character in your eyes. even if that's who he's always been under the mask...

"no. stay longer." he demanded said.

"it's getting late, and I've been with you for a few days." you replied back, still trying to be polite and understanding in some way. you kept a comfortable smile on your face as you continued, "remember what I said about having time to miss me?"

he didn't want to hear that shit. you said this so often that it actually made him not want to hear your voice. even with the rampant thoughts of wanting to grab the nearest fabric and shove it in your mouth to shut you up, he brushed his hair back to express mild frustration with your words.

and with all this conversation, you still didn't make a definite move. you didn't get up, you didn't sternly say you were leaving and you definitely didn't get up to automatically pack up your things.

"stay." the shorter his phrases got, the shorter his temper got as well and your patience was getting worn too. you try to be a patient person but when he acts so entitled and childish, you can't help the awkward yet strained laugh that comes from your chest.

"I can't do it. I need to go back to my house." you were stern and here comes the attempt the remove yourself from the premises.

you got up from your laying position on the bed and closed up your already packed bag, you planned this, you planned to leave today and you were executing it.

you could feel the adamant stare on your back coming from him. you rolled your eyes and shook your head. you have a minuscule understanding of what's going on in his head, quite minuscule compared to what is actually going on.

"I won't say it again." you look over to him and tilt your head, you were perplexed by his word choice.

"oh, don't be so dramatic." you utter as you put on sweatpants and you thought he was simply trying to intimidate you with his harsh tone and odd wording. but you were naïve to the obvious signs.

he considered letting you go but the way you looked in those sweats, his sweats. he couldn't. not this time.

he grabbed you by the neck, his thumb on one side of your jaw while his four fingers are on the other side. with his chest pressed up against your back, he pushed the bedroom door closed. he was breathing heavily.

like breathing uncomfortably down your ear.

you mistakenly utter his name and his thumb that was fitted on your jaw, pressed your lips together firmly.

he was clicking his tongue as you felt his head shake next to yours. as your chest was raising and falling noticeably, his icy hand slithered up your shirt and you felt a chilling sensation from your sternum to the top of your esophagus.

you felt your resolve shattering under him as he ripped the bag from your hands and spun you around. he couldn't even began to forge together any words as he brought your face close to his. your scent intoxicating him once more and he feels that certain emotion snap inside of him.

something that held him back from taking in all of you.

pushing you down onto the bed, it didn't feel like how it usually did, soft and welcoming, it felt hard and stringent. he grabs your wrist harshly and you couldn't take your eyes off of him. but his actions were still full of intent as you felt your wrist binded to the bed.

you don't know how to feel. one moment you are protesting loudly and kicking at him and the next you are moaning when he so much as squeezes and twists your nipple through your shirt.

he refused to prep you and give you that sense of pleasure, like this was supposed to be pleasureful, it wasn't. as he had you on your back—right wrist tightly tied onto the bedframe—he made you put your feet on his chest. sadistically, wanting to feel you push away from him as he pushed into you raw. it hurt. like hell.

your free hand pushed your hair harshly out your face as you threw your head back on the bed and in this specific moment he felt your resistance the most. but at the same time he felt the way you were desperately pulling him in and in. like you were just begging him to touch your cervix.

he was pushing in slowly, slow and shallow thrusts into you and rubbing your clit ever-so-often even if you obviously didn't deserve it. he wants to hear those sweet moans, even if those whiny pleads are ruining the experience.

he can't focus on your walls suffocating his dick when all you're doing is crying your heart out. with a clear irritation he pushes down on your stomach as he leans over to get a piece of tightly woven rope. you didn't get a moment to slap him away as he was already looming over you, forcefully putting the rope over your mouth and around your head. tying it tight enough so it won't come off and it will effectively muffle those loud and annoying cries.

"I don't want to hear you speak."

you were expecting a quaint 'understand?' from him but the question would've been a waste of breath because of the way your body forced itself to relax under him.

at this moment he straightened your bent legs and put them on his shoulders, folding your body in half as he stayed at an acute angle. the tears and snot running down your face shouldn't have egged him on into ramming into you harder, faster, and dry especially.

but by the time he was leg up and full on pounding into you, you were wet enough for it. you were turned on by this, by him and his authority.

at least.

that's what he was getting from this.

you bite down on the rope as you whine through yet another orgasm and you sniffle up the snot as your free hand claws into the bed. its like you were scared to touch him. and that did hurt him a bit when he realized but the warmth. the look of vulnerability in your eyes as he does nothing but bully your gummy walls, is as addicting as drugs to him.

panting like a dog above you, he completely stops for a moment. clearly getting lightheaded as he puts one hand next to your head for stability. your eyes shoot open at the suddenness of his movements and as your eyes lock, he gives you such a conceited smirk.

pleased with his actions.

even when he's clearly overexerting himself from how pussy drunk he is.

he takes a huge breath, sitting upright and running his fingers through his hair. yanking your lifeless legs to his chest, he shifts his technique to quick and shallow thrusts. your body jolting violently against your will. but this is what he wants.

against your will.

this is his will.

this is what he wants from you.

he wants you to cum, over and over and over again until you get it into your thick head.

you have no will.

and because you have no will to control your bodily functions, your bound hand clenched in a tight fist as you cum again.

you had a wicked imprint across your face and your wrist was blood red. you couldn't didn't leave. not until he said so. and he didn't say so.

not yet.

leaning down to your ear, his hand squeezes your arm tightly as you sat in his suffocating embrace. stiff in his arms as you didn't want to engage in any touch with him. it angered him.

"do I need to use the rope again."

the dead tone he used in combination to his slow pace of words sent a sharp shiver down your spine.

with a soft exhale of a shaky breath, you hesitantly shake your head and his draped arm tugs you impossibly closer to his side.

"good." he gave you a small belittling pat on your forearm as he kissed your forehead and he's quite proud to call himself

your boyfriend.

a/n: someone pls take this trope away from me. anyway thats all for now, literally can't stop thinking about the possibilities for this. thanks to the anons that were asking for more! honestly made me more incline to post.

more writing

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

Player 001 saving us from Thanos? 🥺🥺🥺

Of course! <3 Ngl I enjoyed it, he was so scared of In-ho afterwards lmfao.

What did you say?

Squid Game masterlist

Hwang In-ho/Frontman/Player001 x fem!reader

Cw/triggers: Thanos getting his lesson taught, mature themes, mild violence(?), slightly different from how it went in the series.

"Hello Señorita, if you want to live through the next game, you should join me and my friend." Came Thanos' voice behind you as he sauntered in front of you. "I like you." he almost sing sang, making the finger heart.

Player 124 better known as his stupid friend Nam-gyu stepped beside him, resting his arm on Thanos' shoulder.

"No," you took one step back "I don't wanna join you."

Thanos scoffed, not taking your rejection lightly. "What? You're seriously not considering about joining those losers over there, right?" he gestured over your shoulder, where Gi-hun, Young-il, Dae-ho and Jung-bae were sitting on the steps talking to eachother.

But unbeknown to you, Young-il had his eyes on you, seeing your obvious denial in joining Thanos.

"They're not losers, they're my friends."

Thanos raised an eyebrow, acting surprised. "Oh? Your friends?" he laughed, then leaned closer to you. "All I'm seeing there are three old men and a wannabe Marine with anxiety." he taunted, waving his hands as if mocking Dae-ho personally.

"Don't call them that, fucking junky." You tried defending but Thanos reached out, gripping your shoulder.

Thanos tightened his grip almost painfully. "You should really join us, and while you're at it, in the next vote press O instead X." he looked down at the red X opposite from your player number, making a disgusted face.

Thanos looked over your shoulder, noticing Player 001 standing up, making his way towards them. He did not look pleased.

"Hey," he said, making Thanos loosen his grip and you stepping to the side. "I've had enough disrespectfulness coming from you, where are your manners?"

Nam-gyu snorted, nudging Thanos with his elbow, who scrutinized Player 001. "Manners? What are we? Kids?"

You walked behind Young-il, heading back to the others who were watching the scene unfold.

Young-il stopped. "It's disrespectful towards her, can't you take a no?"

"Listen dude, why don't you worry about your wife at home instead of a random player in here?" Thanos said, making his way over to Young-il until he was at arms reach.

"What did you say?" Young-il asked, his voice was calm but the rage in it could easily be heard.

"I said, go back to your fucking wi-"

Thanos couldn't finish his sentence when Young-il swiftly reached out, grabbing the back of his neck. Thanos winced in his grip, and Nam-gyu quickly came to aid Thanos.

"Hey you motherf-"

Young-il easily kicked Nam-gyu's shin twice, making him cry out in pain and fall to the ground, clutching his leg.

Thanos tried punching Young-il but he expertedly evaded, punching him in the gut, making him double over in pain.

"Wait a sec." Thanos pleaded, reaching out his hand but Young-il simply grabbed it, twisted in painfully until Thanos groaned in pain and fell on the ground.

Young-il crouched down, immediately gripping Thanos' throat, choking him out.

"I'm sorry man... please..." Thanos coughed, his face was already starting to get purple.

But Young-il kept his harsh grip, showing no signs of stopping...

Until he was snapped out of it by hearing your soft voice.

"Young-il..."

Young-il gave in, slowly letting Thanos go, leaving him to cough miserable on the ground as he straightened up. Then he turned towards you as everybody around started cheering and clapping for Young-il's bravery.

"Are you alright?" He asked, his voice was still rough from the fight, but he had a small smile on his face and his eyes softened.

You gave a weak smile in return. "I am. Thanks. But you shouldn't have–"

Young-il cut you off with a small wave. "It's nothing, I just value respect which those guys clearly don't have."

"You have a good heart, Young-il." You praised him genuinely.

His smile grew softer, he made his way to you, patting your shoulder and walking you back to the group.

"Thank you, it really means alot." Young-il gave your shoulder a soft squeeze before sitting down beside you.

Meanwhile Dae-ho whispered to Jung-bae

"Where did he learn that?"

"Ex-marines maybe?"

"Oh."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

[mypoisonedvine]

Please please please do emperor Geta 🙏 maybe a dubcon situation where he uses his power over you, and "you heard me, take it off" but I would literally take anything of him ❤

i've been waiting for my turn to write this little freak i need him!!

warnings: SMUT! 18+ only!!, dubcon/noncon, a slap, a bit of public stuff/exhibitionism kinda, virgin!reader (she's a priestess so also mild religious themes), fingering, overall he's The Worst

"You heard me," he spat. "Take it off!"

And you had heard him, of course, but you didn't quite believe it. He knew you were no concubine or courtesan-- a high priestess hardly receives orders from mortals-- yet he ordered you around like any peasant. Spoiled fucking child he was...

"Now."

You nervously glanced at the guard detail surrounding you both; even if they weren't here, you were probably bound to his orders regardless, but it still felt absurd. In your own temple, which he'd cleared out in the middle of the day while people were praying and making sacrifices, he tells you to take off your robe. Does this man really have no decorum, no respect for sanctity?

"Don't test my patience, you will find it lacking," Geta warned. He was your emperor, you knew to disobey him was death, but most emperors were also worshippers-- they would do what you said, knowing it was a command from the gods.

Conflicted but unwilling to make him wait longer in case he made good on his threat, you unclasped the clip holding your robe at your shoulder, and the belt around your waist: then, it was all just fabric at your feet, and you were bare before him.

He had that hungry smile on his face, the one that curled his upper lip and bared his teeth while he flared his nostrils; you tried not to let any fear or discomfort show on your face, knowing he would only prey on it more.

Technically, there was nothing wrong with him seeing you (even if it felt wrong, especially with a bunch of royal guards here as well), but priestesses were not to be touched. Ever. So when he stepped forward and reached for you, you instinctively smacked his hand away.

He pressed his lips together and, about ten times harder than you'd smacked him, hit you on the face. Your head spun and you instantly held your cheek-- only for him to grab your wrist and yank it hard, pulling you towards him as you yelped, exposing your stinging skin.

"You think I won't hurt you?" he growled. "Just because you're chosen by the gods? So was I-- except that you were chosen to read dusty old scrolls. I was chosen to rule!"

He dropped your wrist but you kept your face turned, tears beginning to run over it slowly; he brought his hand to your jaw, tilting it back and petting it as he got a good look at you.

"Mm, I think that'll leave a mark," he noticed, sounding quite proud of it.

But then that hand trailed down, fingers tracing along the front of your body-- eyes still trained on your face, which you willed not to show your fear.

And he cupped you between the legs somewhat roughly, exploring you until he found your entrance. When he shoved a finger inside, then you couldn't suppress a reaction, a wince to the unexpected intrusion. Apparently not satisfied with only a small amount of pain from you, he put another one inside and snarled as he pushed them both deep into you.

Yelping softly through your teeth, you shut your eyes tight and found yourself grabbing onto his robe, forehead dropping onto his shoulder.

"You really are untouched," he marveled with a grin. "Or, you were."

He twisted the fingers and you shuddered, the sting only worsened by his mocking laugh as he watched you struggle. "Please, my emperor," you hissed softly, wondering if an appeal to his ego would soften him at all, "I-I won't disobey you, but please don't--"

He curled his fingers harder inside you, making your legs shake: you had to hold onto him just to stay upright. "Don't, what? Fuck you?" he assumed. "But don't you think it would be funny? A defiled oracle, once revered and protected, made into just another toy for the emperor? Used and tossed aside with the other cheap whores?"

He snorted; he really found it amusing, the idea of ruining you just because he could. Yeah, sounds hilarious-- you're a real fucking comedian.

"I won't do it," he decided as he took his fingers out of you, making you breathe a sigh of relief-- just for a moment. "Not here, at least. I'll be kind and take you to the palace first."

You looked up at him with wide eyes. "No-- please!" you begged. "I won't go-- you can't take me--!"

But his guards descended on you in an instant, restraining your arms with hardly any notice of your attempt to fight back, and on his command they dragged you from the temple and into his chariot. None of them seemed to mind that they were taking the oracle of the city hostage, naked, right there in the open streets. Citizens and worshippers watched in horror, but they were just as helpless as you to the emperor's whims.

"Now now, don't cry," he cooed darkly as he wiped a tear off of your injured face. "I won't be too cruel to you, once you've learned to obey."

[soelstress]

First Words

Pairing: Steve Rogers x female!reader

Summary: Your baby boy surprises you.

Warnings: mild language (sorry Steve!)

Word count: 1.1k

A/N - Hello lovelies! I know I've not posted for a while. Sadly my plot bunnies are hibernating but I promise I've not forgotten the requests some of you have made. This is just a lil fluff piece based on similar real life events.

The divider is from the amazing @buck-star - Thank you Sydney! 🥰

The gif is sourced from Google

Do not Steal, Copy or Plagiarize any part of my work

“Language!” 

When you heard your husband's voice from the adjoining room you figured he was on the phone or communicating via FRIDAY. When another shout sounded you grinned, thinking Tony or Nat were really teasing him today. But it wasn’t until Steve came through with a scowl that you paused in folding the laundry. “What’s wrong Steve?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that. Why are you cursing so much?”

Confusion swept through you followed by slight annoyance. “I’m not sure if your attitude or your hearing needs checking first, Captain.” Steve’s brow quickly melted when you called him by his title. “I’m not a child Steve. I can swear as much as I please. But I don’t for two reasons as you well know by now. And besides I’ve been in here humming ‘Baby Shark’ yet again. So whoever is offending your delicate ears, it’s not me.” You crossed your arms defiantly. 

Steve smiled contritely as he held up his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry honey. You’re right. You’re not a child, you are my wife and though I’m not a fan of cursing I shouldn’t have asked like that. It’s just-” His head suddenly tilted before he darted out of the room. 

Nonplussed you followed and saw him peering into your son's bedroom. Your 10 month old child was toddling around his playpen on chubby little legs before falling on his bum next to his blanket and teddy without a sound. He looked around with blue wide eyes then began tugging his blanket and frowned when it wouldn’t move. Before you could take a step to help him, his mouth opened and you expected to hear the soft babbles of annoyance.

“Fuck.”

Your stomach swooped. At a loss for words both you and Steve stared at each other before silently creeping into the room and watching as your son managed to lift his blanket before dropping it again. “Fuck!”

“His first word?” You choked out, unable to believe what had just happened. 

Upon hearing your voice your son smiled and raised his arms while babbling excitedly. Steve picked him up almost robotically, mind still stuck that his son’s first word was a curse word. When you first met you had sworn like a sailor but dialed it back due to Steve’s discomfort, even more so after giving birth. Of course both of you had teasingly wagered if the first word would be ‘Mama’ or ‘Dada’.

“Steve, I haven’t-”

Immediately Steve cupped your cheek with his free hand. “I know honey. You’ve not said that word since the day he was born.” Your gazes met as you both briefly before flicking back down to the child cooing away in his daddy’s hold. “So where did he-“ Your gazes met once more.

“STARK!” You stormed out of your shared quarters and down the hall to the living area where some of the Avengers were dotted about the room. Specifically the one whose armour would not protect him from your wrath.

Tony stood when he heard you shout, trademark smirk faltering when he saw you striding toward him with Steve hot on your heels as your son giggled at the fast pace. Steve carefully lowered the baby to the floor near the edge of the couch where Nat and Sam sat watching with wide grins. ”Woah Mama Bear, what’s going on?”

You poked Tony with every word. “What. Did. You. Do?” Steve stood close behind you, ready to step in though he too was beyond annoyed.  Although Tony himself was a father he was more likely to slip up with his colourful language than the rest of the team. 

Eyes wide, Tony shook his head. Usually he would snark and quip his way out of trouble but when he saw how angry you were, that Steve was making no attempt to stop you and that your child was close by instead of being kept away from the conflict meant this was serious. Tony opened his mouth to speak or more accurately plead for more details of what he had done. 

“Fuck?” 

All eyes darted to the miniature Steve Rogers who was looking under the sofa.

Natasha’s eyes darted between you and Tony and back to the eager scavenger near her feet. Sam looked stunned. “Was- did he-”

The colour drained from Tony’s face as he realised what had made you so angry. 

”Fuck!” Your son sat back on his bum, clutching something in his chubby little hand. 

It took you a moment to recognise the item and you frowned before exhaling heavily in relief. ”Oh thank goodness.”

Steve’s eyes, so wide and blue like his son’s, were dazed with confusion. “Honey?”

Smiling, you crouched to brush your hand through your child’s silky hair. “Truck. He was looking for his truck.” Sighs filled the air, soft chuckles turning into laughter.

“What’s going on?”

Steve glanced over to see his best friend standing at the edge of the room, totally bewildered at the scene before him with no apparent explanation. “Hey Buck.”

“Fuck!” Bucky crouched down to catch the little blur that rushed over to him. As Steve followed and started to explain to Bucky what had happened you glanced to where the abandoned truck sat on the floor to your son who currently sat in his godfather's arms and back again.

Your loud groan interrupted Steve’s story, his brows furrowing in concern. But your original suspect in all of this had also caught on to your realisation. “The kid was trying to say Terminator’s name!”

Bucky nodded but was slightly confused as to why everyone either looked amused or annoyed. “Yeah, I thought ‘Buck’ was easier than ‘Bucky’. For now anyway. He’s said it a few times already-“

”Woah hang on Buck. He’s spoken before now and you didn’t tell us?!” Steve’s face was a mixture of anger and disappointment. Not only was his son's first word his Godfather’s name but it wasn't even the first time and Bucky had said nothing.

“It was earlier this morning! I was gonna show you when I came back from my run!” Bucky pleaded, stepping back but giving big puppy eyes to Steve. 

Tony scoffed as colour finally returned to his previously pale face. “Barnes, you dipshit.”

“Sit!”

“STARK!!!”

[gothghostiie]

@pricegotmedickmatized my turn, the promised second brain worms i got regarding poly!141 and Price punishing his boys

also based on what she had to say about this

cw: fingering, anal, overstimulation, toys (cockrings/buttplug), threesome, degrading, brief/mild cbt, praise, manhandling, hairpulling, crying, hatefucking, creampie, abrupt ending

they truly dont learn. they never do. why would they? price will always deal with them. he feels like he's talking to a brick wall, but unfortunately its his brickwall and he loves it with his whole heart. even if his brickwall is three goddamn brats - or rather one stupid, reckless brat, one pretty boy who has too much fun to say no and one looming shadow who's too good at keeping quiet. they drive him up the wall sometimes, especially on days like these. he just can't throw the heat, can't get himself to get hard and fuck the idiots like they deserve - but that doesn't mean he wont find a way to fuck them back in line. not when each of them has a perfectly good cock each.

hes sat in his armchair that he keeps in the big bedroom he assigned for all of them; for after scenes, to hang out or to just all sleep in the same room or even bed if they feel like it. soap lovingly calls it the cuck chair, kyle snickers every time he hears it, ghost likes the thought a little too much (but that's a story for another day). watches johnny and kyle grope and push each other playfully while trying to stay serious, simon sits with his head down, waiting for price to speak; but he doesn't. not yet. lights himself a cigar silently, taking a deep puff followed by a mild cough, before he sits up with a grunt. "you lot don't fucking learn. you don't wanna learn, do you?" he sighs. "it's like you like pissing me off. like you like being disrespectful and insubordinate brats. like you enjoy making me angry and getting yourselves punished." he takes another puff, the boys finally pipe down. kyle looks a little guilty, johnny is still grinning - he knows price is absolutely right - and simon is unmoved.

"tried so many things to get you to behave. good old fashioned spanking, denying you your orgasms, taking away privileges, denying you things you want - I've tried to fuck you straight, for fucks sake. but you truly don't learn. nothing takes fruit." he shakes his head with a scowl. "got me thinking what else I can do to make you be good. been overworking my poor head." he takes yet another long puff, leaving the words hang in the air for a moment before speaking again. "but I think I might have something that'll help." the boys all look at him, curious, a bit scared, excited. price looks around silently to keep them on edge.

"what is it?" Gaz finally asks, his leg jumping nervously, swatting aways soaps hand from his lower back, soap pouts.

price looks around again. "I don't have it in me today to fuck you straight tonight, just for you lot to be back to being stupid brats tomorrow. im too old to deal with naughty little boys." he chuckles dryly, taking another puff. the boys wanna laugh, but they know it'll just fuel whatever price has planned; even soap's piped down. for now. "but what do I have three young, healthy cocks for if not to use them, hm?" he chuckles again, the boys get more confused, a bit flustered.

"Sir?"

"Take your clothes off." he says, glancing around. "you too, simon." they all quietly do, soap immediately rocking a boner - christ 3 of his favourite people are naked and he gets to stare and drool like a slut. "get here. at attention." the military language immediately strikes a cord in all of them, they all scramble to get up and stand in a half circle around price, hands behind them, backs straight and feer slightly apart. the sight makes price laugh, shaking his head while reaching into his pocket.

"good soldiers." he chuckles, unpacking what he had brought - cockrings. three different ones: a regular one, a vibrating one and one that fits around cock and balls. each of them knows who's getting what. price looks around briefly, waiting for protest that never comes. "you know the deal." he says, putting them in his lap and picking up the regular one, lubing it up as he speaks. "tell me if it hurts too bad, if it feels numb or cold." the boys nod and simon closes his eyes, whimpering as price slides the cockring onto his flaccid cock, setting it snugly at the very base of it. Kyle is next, price grabs the vibrating one and lubes it up, turning it on and off to make sure it works before sliding it onto the younger man's cock. Kyle shivers, a soft moan falling from his lips as his cock twitches.

then its soaps turn. the slut is beaming as price lubes up the last ring whike shaking his head. "don't look so happy." Price scolds. "God damn slut. can't even keep your pathetic cock under control so I can put the ring on. have to make it hard for me." he gently slaps the hard dick, drawing a yelp and a flinch from soap - that's a first. and price loves it. he does it again, a bit harder to test the waters, then again to hear the shriek again. finally slides the ring on while laughing, squeezing the heavy, full balls through the silicone and giving them a smack too, for good measure. he leans back again and eyes the three over while taking yet another puff off his cigar, blowing the smoke at the three of them.

"look at that." he hums. "all of you standing at attention for me. takes you back, doesnt it?" he laughs at his own words, shaking his head. "back when you still fucking listened to me." he adds. "lets see if you can still listen, hm?" he gestures towards the bed, silently telling them to get on. they all do, waiting for their next order, like dogs. price truly does wish he had a camera on hand. "now, for your punishment.." he hums. "you're gonna fuck each other. under my command, under my direction. if I see any of you doing anything I'm not telling you too, you'll regret it. got it?'

they all collectively nod, so does price. "good. Simon, lie down, on your stomach." simon winces. once again he hadn't done anything but not tell on the others, and once again he regrets it now. price throws them a bottle of lube. "Kyle, prep him a bit. be nice." The man nods quickly, spreading the lube on his long, slender fingers and works them into the tight hole splayed out in front of him, gently working simon open while he buries his bare face in the pillow he put his head on. John let's them have at it for a while, watching gaz softly soothe simon with gentle whispers, his other hand massaging the tight back of his neck. "That's it." Price hums after a few minutes. "Thats enough. good boy, kyle." he praises gently, watching him pull out. "dont clean your fingers. sit back and turn the ring on low, then finger yourself too. got it?"

"Got it, Captain." Price hums in approvement, watching as kyle follows his orders. he then turns his attention to soap.

"go boy. have at it." soap freezes. this has to be a trap, right?

"what?" price tilts his head.

"have at it. fuck him how you like. go on." Soap hesitates as he climbs over the big guy, straddling his muscular thighs. pulls apart the fat cheeks hiding the slicked up hole, simon just takes it quietly; even when soap slides his chubby tip into the prepped hole. he throws his head back, starts thrusting slowly as price watches closely. but soap wouldn't be soap if he had any ounce of self control, so it doesnt take long before hes slamming down into him, making simon let out pathetic, high pitched whimpers. that's when Price stands up, walking over. "keep going." he orders firmly, as if soap would ever stop if he wasn't being physically ripped away. he kneels down by si's head, running a gentle hand through his hair as he leans in.

"feel that? that's the cock that keeps gutting you into trouble. that keeps getting you punished for no reason at all." he croons, the soft voice a stark difference. "and now he's ruining your hole too. youre a fucking doormat, aren't you? letting the little brat walk all over you." ghost tenses, price has him hooked now. the fingers gently carding through his blond hair suddenly tighten and pull the head up. "look at me when I'm fucking talking to you." simon winces. "you're a god damn pussy for letting him do that." he drops the hair and steps back, letting simon brood while soap keeps rutting into him like a madman. he's chasing his own high like a cat chases a mouse, he doesn't get to fuck this tight hole often, he has to make most of it. and he does, at least he tries. the ring makes it hard, feeling like some kind of barrier is cutting off his cum, making sure it wont come out any time soon, but that doesn't stop him. it never does. his rutting gets more aggressive, more agitated, his grunts louder and more laboured. it takes him longer than both of them would like before he's pumping his load deep into ghost, thrusting some more to make sure it's really all in there, all messy, before pulling out and slapping the red, angry tip against the stretched hole. the laugh that leaves his lips is cold and nasty, ghost tenses more.

"sit back. Kyle, your turn." Kyle gulps. he knows what price is doing and hes praying he won't get the short end of the stick. he climbs up and takes soaps place, price gestures for him to go ahead. kyle does, slowly pushing in, giving him a gentle fuck in hope to soothe what price started, rubbing his back and kissing his shoulders. but price isnt having that. he laughs. "look at that. all sweet n gentle to make up for getting you into trouble too. isn't that nice, simon?" he says sarcastically. "at least kyle cares a little, hm? how kind of him. really, really sweet." ghost tenses up again, kyle gulps. he keeps the gentle demeanour up, despite his cock aching and begging for more stimulation.

"he's holding back so hard to not anger you. he's scared of you. maybe we should help him, hm?" Price grins, it makes him shiver. "Johnny, get behind him." Kyle's eyes widen, as does Soaps grin. he places himself behind Gaz and presses his dick against the taller mans hole, filling in the banks of what price wants him to do. he rubs it teasingly, making kyle shiver in anticipation, thrusting into ghost deeper to get away from soap; unfortunately for him this backfires.

"go, boy." the simple words send soap into a frenzy, almost lunging himself forward to press kyle down onto ghosts back - despite being the shortest he's still a goddamn tank - forcing his already hard again cock into the tight hole. Kyle gasps loudly, forced into the big guy to the hilt, praying that ghost won't tear him to shreds later. Soap once again starts rutting down, this time into kyle instead of ghost - more or less, since he's forcing kyle to fuck him in the same rhythm. both of them are whining and moaning, gaz is louder, soap grunts with effort and pleasure.

Kyle looks up with teary eyes, looking at price for help - to his surprise he actually stands up and walks over; but not to help. the opposite, really. poor naive kyle sobs out when price reaches down between them to put the cockring on its highest setting, then stands up straight again to watch. "look at that. not even sweet kyle can help when the brat gets his hands in, huh?" he's talking to ghost again, riling him back up. "what a shame, thought you were better than.. that." his voice drips with disdain - and kyle finally realises what's happening. his eyes widen and he glances up at the older man, who smirks down at him with a wink. he knows this is happening, no matter how much he'd beg or plead, this was happening. lucky for him he wouldn't get the short end of the stick, so why stop it? the worst that will happen to him will be getting overstimulated, and that's worth the show - so he puts his head down, relaxing his body as soap keeps plowing into him.

soap is far too sunken into the pleasure to notice the exchange, far too busy with the feeling of the pilant hole around his cock and the feeling of power that comes with forcing someone to fuck another person. he gets drunk on the power quickly, digging his short nails into Kyle's ass as he chases another high - but not without making sure to angle his thrusts against the other mans prostate, forcing him to cum into Ghosts hole too, mixing with the mess already in there. only when he hears the squelching noises get sticky he allows himself to finish again, pulling out right away to watch his sperm dribble out of Kyle's gaping hole. smacks his ass for good measure before sitting back, exhausted and happy.

Kyle follows suit, pulling out slowly and carefully, leaving ghost wide open, price grins. "look at that.." he whispers, pulling the cheeks apart to have a clear view. "what a fucking mess. disgusting. you really let him do that to you?" he rummages through the nightstand, fishing out a rather big buttplug. he gently, slowly pushes it into Ghosts hole, sealing it shut with the mixed cum inside it, a constant reminder of what just happened. price now bends down, mouth right by his ear.

"you won't let him get away with that, are you, ghost?"

his eyes fly open, he's frozen for a moment. price grins and steps back. he doesn't even have to give the command, ghost is already hauling himself up with a grunt, grabbing johnny by the hair and pulling him onto his back on the mattress, a shocked look crossing the other mans face. his cocky demeanor is gone as he finally realises what price had been planning all along, that he wasn't going easy with the punishment, no. he made soap fuck him on purpose. got him angry, not at being punished, but at soap for getting him punished. and it worked, because ghost is forcing soaps knees to his ears, fat, drooling cock resting on his ass, rubbing back and forth. the only thing holding him back is the lack price's command to start, and soap knows it. he looks up, baffled. price bends down again, looking into his eyes.

"go on." Soap looks at price as if he had just signed his death contract, like he just sent him on death row with no chance for trial. Ghost doesnt hesitate, he forces his whole lenght in I'm one deep thrust, making the smaller man cry out, air forced out of his lungs.

"fuck-!" Soap cusses but is quickly silenced, not by Price, but by ghost, shoving his thick fingers down his throat, making his eyes water.

"shut the fuck up, you pathetic whore.." ghosts voice is low, angry. soap gets butterflies and he's not sure whether its fear or arousal. "your fucking fault I keep getting into trouble.. your fucking fault I'm fucked full of cum.. your fucking fault I'm stuffed now.." he growls, showing his fingers deeper as he thrusts harder. its short, deep thrusts with a painful force behind them, soaps tears soon flow freely. "gonna make you fucking regret what you did to me.." soaps eyes roll back as ghost hits his good spot, deep, deep inside him. he swears he can feel ghost all the way in his tummy, swears it bulges from the sheer size, but his hands cant feel for it, digging into the sheets as ghost ruins him, like he ruined ghost.

"holy shit.." Kyle whispers shakily, cockring still buzzing away around his cock, lazily stroking his semi as he watches soap get brutalised. "Captain.." he mumbles quietly. "he's crying.."

"that he is." Price nods, kneeling down. he cups the back of his head, surprisingly gentle. Ghost pulls his fingers out, making space for price, wiping his fingers on his face. "does that hurt?" he coos, soap nods. "he's really deep, ain't he?" soap nods again. "got you all teary, hm? that bad?" soap nods again, a glimmer of hope as ghost tears into his hole, but it's snuffed as quickly as it was lit. "good." price says firmly, sadistically. "it's a god damn punishment. maybe being made to cry like a fucking baby will make you behave."

[baronessvonglitter]

Like a Good Girl Should

mom's sleazy bf!Joel Miller x f!Reader | wc: 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

[hanasnx]

“ YOU GOT A FETISH FOR MY LOVE, I PUSH YOU OUT AND YOU COME RIGHT BACK ” — anakin skywalker.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: if this counts for kinktober, i'm saying the kink is begging. WARNINGS: ex!anakin ノ fem reader ノ mild angst ノ established relationship ノ size difference ノ sexual content: some p in v stuff ノ pathetic begging anakin.

All of your relationships leading up to this point had resolutely ended. There were no loose ends, and nothing worth sacrificing your self-respect for. You'd cut them off, or burn the bridge if you had to, just to ensure you couldn't backslide on your decision. It's an incredible trust to place in yourself, and a little lonely. No matter how much your heart ached for the person you separated from, you would not reach out, and you'd make it pretty clear you didn't want to hear from them either. One exception stands before you now, that familiar crease in EX!ANAKIN SKYWALKER's brow as he demands to be let inside.

"It can't end like this." A statement that leaves no room for argument. One of the reasons you called it quits in the first place is dating a general doesn't feel like dating, it just feels like taking orders. "Do you have any idea what I've done for you? What I've sacrificed?" he admonishes incredulously, taking up the space of your doorway as stand your ground.

"Anakin- leave." you command. You know he's just here to pick a fight, to see if he can break your spirit with guilt-tripping manipulations. It's hard to feel large against a towering figure like General Skywalker, but you're bold enough to try to. Even if he can sweep you out of his way with an arm, you block his entrance with your body.

"You stubborn girl. You don't understand anything, do you?" he spits, the deep lines of his scowl drawing shadows that cascade his expression to a near unrecognizable degree. If you didn't know him, you'd fear for your safety.

"I told you to go!" you cry, jabbing your finger over his shoulder to signal him to turn around.

He advances, forcing you to arch away. "You don't mean that!" His voice is a lot louder than yours, and it carries. The frown in your brow relaxes as your eyes widen in response to his outburst. In a way, it's a keen reading. If it combats the loneliness of your self-sabotaging nature, you wish you'd let yourself invite him to stay. However, your pride has gotten you this far, and you don't want to appear weak. Perhaps, you don't want him to go, but it's the right thing to do.

You've been through so much together, and you're sure that he only holds onto you so tightly because you're all he's ever known when it comes to romantic entanglements. If he had been more experienced when you'd met him, he wouldn't have such passionate outrage about being refused.

He's the only one who's chased you so closely while you ran away. Retreating from intimacy, retreating from love, he's the only one who's seen right through you, and demanded you anyway.

"Anakin, you should go." you whisper against his lips as he backs you up deeper into your apartment. Eager hands curtly whip your clothes from your body, careful not to disrupt the connection of your mouths, recycling breath between you.

"Please, don't say that—You don't mean that." he murmurs, the vulnerability of being rejected laced into his plea. Your hands suspended in air from shock come to rest on his leather padding, helping him out of his robing like you've done a thousand times before. It's like a dance, the way your figures move fluidly, retracing the steps, how he backs you up against the wall as he slips his tongue between your lips, tilting his head to reach you as you're less than cooperative. The taste of him intoxicates you, coaxing your own tongue to smooth over his, and he expels a pleasant noise through his nose. His fingers splay on your shoulders, keeping you in place while staying at an uncharacteristic distance. It's as if he's begging for you with his body, showing you he'll do whatever it takes to prove to you his devotion, his love. Kiss him without touching places he's not allowed to touch anymore.

Part of you wishes he'd get over that, and in a fit of impatience, you place them for him, tracing them over the curves of your bare figure.

Herding you to the bedroom you once shared, his hand comes to cup the nape of your neck, pinning you to him as he delves his tongue deeper. You've never had anyone kiss you like Anakin, and if you didn't care for him it would be unpleasant. The impatient plunge of an inexperienced lover still laces the way he makes out with you, and it's clingy, it's forceful, it's desperate. At its end, he sucks your bottom lip between his, dragging it through his teeth. Plump, wet, and pink he speaks against yours, hushed and hurried. "Say you love me." he breathes—another plea, delicately concealed.

"Say you love me." he asks again, holding your gaze while he enters you. The fragile flinch of his softened features endears you, reintroducing his sex to yours as if its his first time—like the sensation is just too much, evidenced by the hitch in his throat when he questions you.

He sinks to the hilt over and over again, using his own hands to wrap your legs around his hips, keeping you close in embrace. He squeezes his eyes shut, grunting through his mouth from effort as he buys your love with his body, begs for your attention through his pitying ministrations. "Say you love me." he pleas one more time. "Please- please, I need you. Even if you don't mean it, even if you hate me... just... just..."

You bite hard into your lip, trying to think your way through the pleasure coursing through your veins. Skin hot and mind occupied, you clutch onto him as if he grounds you. In the dull light of the room, you find his eyes again, glossy and bloodshot. You palm his cheek, and his face softens. "I love you." you concede. The wall you've put up begins to dismantle.

[fanged-fanfics]

Ok, but what if next time shadow milk comes into the dough baby's room, we show off our artistic skills by doing makeup on him? Making him as pretty as ever!

.

(And then when he leaves, black sapphire is like 'what in the world happened to your face-?'.. 'Art, my dear minion, ART')

☆ Blue Hues of Trouble — Shadow Milk & Child!Reader ☆

Genre: Semi-Fluff, Platonic || they/them pronouns for reader || Warning for mild manipulative themes

A/N: Previous part for those who need it!

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

You rummaged around in the box sitting beside you, taking out tools you honestly can't remember the name of. You knew dressing up your face was something adults did for fun, and hey, Shadow always did say you were his favorite little artist! The jester sat before you, hunced over so you could reach his face.

You applied what had to have been the third layer of blush, drawing shapes on his cheeks with eyeliner ink. He sat perfectly still, humming in contentment. While you were turned away, his eyes flicked over to the corner of your bed. The doll he'd given you was haphazardly tucked away, mismatched button eyes peeking out of the sheets. He couldn't help grinning to himself.

"Say, little one, did your papa say anything about our plush friend?" He asked, putting on the most innocent tone he could muster. You huffed, applying eye shadow to his right eyelid with a frown "No.. I gotta hide it. Papa would try to toss it away". "How cruel!" Shadow Milk gasped, his face the picture of childish hurt "All because your dear friend wanted to give you a little gift?"

You nodded sadly "Yeah... but he doesn't play with me anymore! He just talks about big stuff...". Shadow Milk shook his head, tutting as he pulled you into his arms "Poor little doll! All alone, with no one to play with" he sniffled. You couldn't help but giggle at his silly antics "Nuh-uh, I have you!". Shadow Milk grinned, but no kindness reached his eyes "That's right. You'll always have your dear friend Shadow Milk"

The doorknob clicked, and the strong hands cradling you were suddenly gone. You landed on the carpet of your room with a grunt, looking around in bewilderment. All traces of your blue and black friend had disappeared in a mere blink, as if he were never there. You felt yourself beginning to pout, but footsteps sounded of someone entering

"Little sunflower, are you here?" Pure Vanilla asked. When he saw you, his worry melted into a tiny smile. He strode over, makeup kit completely ignored as he lifted you onto your feet "I was looking all over for you. Are you alright?". "Yes, papa" you nodded. You couldn't help but notice lines on his face that hadn't been there before. Faint darkness under his eyes, circles wearing heavy on his kind face. Pure Vanilla's smile almost faltered seeing you looking at him in concern. He stood back up, patting your head "That's good. I've someone very important I'd like you to meet"

Just then, the door creaked open more. Dark Cacao was there, and right beside him stood someone new. A tall man with pale grey armor, iridescence shinning in his large sword. He placed the weapon to the side, intense gaze falling upon you. You scooted closer to Pure Vanilla, who held your hand as reassurance. This new stranger bent down, seemingly scanning every inch of your face. "May I have your hand, little one?" He asked, extending a gloved hand to you. You stepped back, looking up at Pure Vanilla. He nodded gently "Don't worry, this is a dear companion of mine. He won't hurt you. I wouldn't let him"

With some of your worries softened, you gave the stranger your hand. He closed his eyes, and a light emitted from him. The glow of it made you feel warm, and it seemed to circle your being. The stranger's brow furrowed, and he stood "I can sense it". Pure Vanilla suddenly looked afraid "You don't mean...?". The other nodded. "Their souljam has been touched by deceit. I can feel it, clouding the edge of their essence"

Dark Cacao's frown deepened, and Pure Vanilla gripped his sleeve "No.. no, no, this can't be. I've been so careful- I can't-" his breath hitched "Elder Faerie Cookie, you must help us". "Don't worry, I won't let any harm come to this doughling" Elder Faerie promised "I can watch them, in my kingdom"

"No!" You shouted, clinging to Pure Vanilla's robes. You hid your face in his stomach "Don't wanna!". With a deep frown, Pure Vanilla turned to the faerie "I think that would only harm them.. they're so young, they still need me". "But this is the safest way" Dark Cacao said "If that Beast is back, we don't know what others might have been freed. We must eliminate this problem quickly". "There has to be another way" Pure Vanilla plead, holding you close to him. He looked to Elder Faerie, who gave a conflicted sigh

"It is possible that I can send a guard from my kingdom, someone to watch over them. They won't be able to purge the influence, but hopefully it can stop the spread" he said. "Thank you, Elder Faerie" Pure Vanilla responded "For all your help. I'm more greatful than you can imagine". "I'll also be sending someone" Dark Cacao chimed in "This castle needs protection". "I couldn't ask that of you" Pure Vanilla said "You need someone to protect you as well, if this really means what we fear it does"

"You are one of my oldest and closest allies, Pure Vanilla Cookie" Dark Cacao responded "A threat to you is a threat to me. I know what it's like to lose yourself... to lose your child..." the Cacao king gave you a look, his sternness softened by reflection. Pure Vanilla nodded "Thank you, my dear friend. I very much appreciate it. Whenever you need, I will make sure to return this kindness"

After a long time of the three discussing their options, they were soon being seen out. You were much more relaxed, but still sticking to Pure Vanilla like glue. "You may expect Silverbell Cookie's arrival soon" Elder Faerie said, standing in the threshold of the castle doors "I have faith that he will guard this castle to the fullest extent possible". "I will send you Chocolate Bark Cookie" Dark Cacao said next "He is one of my oldest allies. You can rely on him, much like you rely on me". "I cannot thank you two enough" Pure Vanilla sighed "Please, be careful on your travels". "Don't worry about us" Elder Faerie said "We'll check in soon enough"

Once inside, you headed to the kitchen. It was still a little upsetting that Shadow Milk had left so suddenly, but now you were also confused. What did all this mean? Did you do something wrong? Why did everyone seem upset with you? As you mulled over the question, Pure Vanilla sat you in your favorite chair. "Care for some Fluffy Castella?" He asked, taking out a cooking pan. You grinned happily "Yes please! And a bit of Toffee jam". "Coming right up" Pure Vanilla chuckled "How about you help me mix it all together?". You slid off of your chair, padding over to excitedly peer at the counter "Yeah!! You can count on me!"

Lingering on the windowsill, a small inky black blob with a single blue eye observed you. It just as suddenly slunk back, rushing across the fields. Around the outskirts, where the trees covered the moon and the forest ground stayed dark, two Cookies leaned against the bark of the trees. The blob stopped before them, morphing and twisting. It grew in size until the gunk peeled away, revealing Shadow Milk Cookie. "Master Shadow Milk!" A pitchy voice squealed, the cookie with red apples in her hair jumping forwards to greet him. "That took hours" the Cookie in purple and black pointed out, sliding into view with smooth strides

"I needed information" Shadow Milk responded simply "It seems our target is getting reinforcements. They're trying to weed us out". "They caught on this quickly?" The purple one asked. "That Elder Faerie Cookie.. I just know he's planning to seal me in that cramped tree again" Shadow Milk mumbled. "Never!" The gal declared, squeezing Shadow Milk's arm in a crushing hug. "Don't worry, minions, your master won't go down that easily" Shadow Milk declared, bravado returning to his tone "With just a pinch of deceit, we'll plant the seeds of our brilliant takeover!"

"Is the... face paint a part of it?" The purple Cookie asked. Shadow Milk raised a hand, feeling the botched shapes and messy makeup that was still on his face. He put his hands on his hips with a scoff "This, Black Sapphire Cookie, is art. If you're jealous that I can pull it off, just say so". "Of course not, Master Shadow Milk" Black Sapphire replied, bowing deeply "How foolish of me". "You're forgiven. This time" Shadow Milk replied, beginning to step into the thick woods "Now we must prepare. Our next act is just a curtain call away!"

[loveharlow]

I'm currently sick, so

can u do Travis Martinez x sick reader. Where they're in the wilderness and she has a high fever, so Travis takes care of her 😇

Thank you so much I love your writing 💓

i can try, please tell me how you like it because i've never written for yellowjackets because while i love the show, the plot confuses me a bit, this is probably not as fluffy as you were hoping IM SO SORRY (an idea came to mind, i had to indulge)

swearing, illness, mentions of vomit, mentions to cannibalism, set pre-s3 & during early s2 after they ate jackie

The fire crackled, the sound traveling from the cabin's living area to the kitchen, where you lay with your head in Travis's lap. He pressed a cool, damp cloth to your forehead, a bowl of melted snow beside him.

You'd all been stranded in the wilderness for months. It was inevitable that someone would fall sick eventually. Whether from the relentless weather, lack of...food, or something else, you didn't know. What you did know was that your skin was burning, yet you couldn't stop shivering, and you'd already vomited up your last meal.

"Feelin' any better?" Travis asked, dabbing the wet cloth against your forehead. You peered up at him weakly, meeting his brown eyes with a small frown. "Sorry... dumb question."

"...'s fine," you mumbled, pulling the blanket tighter around you. "You shouldn't be so close," you advised, gently pushing his hand away from your head. "Last thing we need is two sick people."

"I'll be fine," Travis insisted, dipping the cloth in the bowl. He reached to place it back on your forehead, but you caught his wrist with what little strength you had.

"I'm serious, Travis," you warned, your eyes hardening. You glanced over your shoulder at the others, scattered and sleeping in the living room. Dread filled your gaze before you turned back to Travis, fear evident in your eyes. "You...you haven't seen the way some of them have been looking at me." Your voice shook. "Like... like they're waiting." A tear escaped and rolled down your cheek.

Travis shook his head, brushing your hair behind your ear. "They're not—" He stopped himself from offering a false reassurance. "...What happened with Jackie, it was a survival thing-"

"You know it was more than that," you countered immediately, shaking your head. "We ate her, Trav," you asserted. "We... we all ate her like it was nothing. Like she wasn't our captain. Like she wasn't our friend. Like she wasn't a person. And I can see it in some of their eyes..." You trailed off, your heart pounding. "They're waiting to do it again. And I feel like I'm in a cage with lions or something-" You panicked.

"Hey, it'll be okay," he tried to comfort you, pulling your head further into his lap as your breathing grew rapid. "Natalie and I have been out hunting. We haven't found anything yet, but—"

"And you won't," you sighed. "Not in this weather. And you're really just looking for Javi, I know."

Travis's face twisted, a mild expression of hurt at the mention of his missing brother. "He...He's my brother—"

"I'm not blaming you," you reassured him, placing a weak hand on his leg as you calmed yourself. "I know you want to find him. We all do." You smiled weakly. "...All I'm saying is, with the way things are..."

"Don't," he snarled, looking away.

"Travis..." You tried to sit up.

"They're not gonna fucking eat you," he snapped.

"Look at me," you argued with the most conviction in your voice in days. "I've been sick for almost a week. I can't keep anything down, and it's freezing. There's a very real possibility of me dying out here, Travis." You were blunt. "...You know what Lottie told me this morning?" You continued, swallowing harshly as you finally found the strength to push yourself up, glancing briefly at Lottie sleeping nearby. "She said I'm 'fighting the wilderness's decision'. That it's already chosen, and I'm fighting against what it wants."

"Don't...listen to Lottie. She's been spewing bullshit ever since we got here—"

"That's not my point," you dismissed him, tears now flowing freely. "I... I don't know what we're becoming out here, Travis. And it's happening to all of us. And it doesn't feel right. It doesn't feel good." You emphasized the words. "If...being sick is what takes me out of here, I'll be grateful—"

"Don't talk like that."

"I'm being honest," you continued, despite his protest. "But please," you started, cupping his cheek and forcing him to look at you. "You have to promise me something." Your eyes locked onto his. "Promise me that if I die...you won't let them eat me."

He just stared at you, a conflicted look on his face as his brown eyes searched yours.

"Travis." You shook his face slightly, snapping him out of his thoughts, bringing his face slightly closer to yours. "Take me somewhere and bury me, tell them I left, I don't care what you do but do not. let them. eat me." You gritted, voice still thick with illness. "Promise me."

"...I promise."

©loveharlow.