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zaebeecee · 2 days

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To Sever a Loveless Bond

••RadioDust Soulmate AU••

Part 21/?

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•••

I know it’s been over a month but to make up for it this chapter is nearly 10k words and a whole lot of stuff happens. Like… a whole lot of stuff. Thank you again for sticking with me, y’all, you mean the world to me.

I headcanon Alastor as having had hEDS in life. Also, in our house we call Vox’s assistant Blink in fanfic because we need to call him something

CW for violence, non-consensual/forced nudity, various forms of torture, slut shaming, Vox being a creepy fuck, blood ritual stuff, electricity super fucking Alastor up in the short term

•••

Alastor and pain were not, nor had they ever been, strangers to one another.

It was true, of course, that he quite enjoyed causing harm of both the physical and the emotional variety to those around him… and the psychological, when opportunity knocked. However, he knew pain much too intimately for such knowledge to come from base violence and chaos; it was a gift that life had begun to give him at a young age, his body plagued with a strange malady that neither his maman nor the few doctors they could afford were able to identify. It caused him pain most every moment of every day, and that, in turn, transformed the pain into something… else, something almost familiar and comfortable.

There even came a time that Alastor had convinced himself that pain was no longer a hindrance for him. Of course, there were different kinds of pain, but when one could never escape from it, embracing it became second nature.

The pain that jarred Alastor out of the nothingness of unconsciousness and into the wakeful dark was nothing like the pain of his life, nor like any other pain he had felt in the time since. An odd sort of tingling sensation lay across every inch of his skin, pervasive and just irritating enough to be impossible to ignore; it persisted until he tried to make any movement at all, at which point the fuzzy, staticky sensation spiked quite immediately into the pain of a thousand hot needles piercing through skin and muscle and deep into bone. His breath came in a sharp and ragged gasp as his eyes flew open, focusing on a neon-edged black abyss that stretched endlessly above him before he was forced to screw them shut again.

“You’re getting soft, Alastor.”

That voice, always an unpleasant intruder in his everyday life when simply heard through a television speaker, was more biting than the hurt that wracked his body as it seemed to slice into his eardrums with its brusque, smug self-satisfaction. Alastor gritted his teeth, lip curling as he forced one eye open again, attempting to look around through the red lens of his monocle only to find that it had been taken off of him.

“Not very hospitable surroundings, old pal,” Alastor hissed with all the venomous sarcasm he could muster in the moment. “Losing your touch at playing host?”

“Perhaps not hospitable, but certainly appropriate.” Vox wasn’t in his line of sight, and Alastor took a moment to try and figure out where the fuck, exactly, he was. He was lying flat on his back on a hard, unyielding surface, metal fastened about his wrists, his legs, and the middle of his abdomen. His clothing had been removed, and he could feel that something thin and sharp had been pushed into his flesh along most of his major muscle groups down his arms, legs, and abdomen, but he couldn’t tell what it was. And his strength… it felt like every ounce of his control over his body and his power had been siphoned from him. “Are you feeling proud of yourself?” Vox asked.

“Usually,” Alastor said, keeping his voice flippant as his grin tightened. “About what, specifically?”

Alastor heard Vox’s footsteps before he saw him. The other overlord stepped up to the slab he was lashed down to—bolted to, really—and stared down at him with that… look that he got when he was (as Alastor had always put it back in the day) ‘thinking like a capitalist’. It was something that was trying for cold and appraising, but was full of too much… greed? Hunger? Alastor didn’t know what to call it, but whatever it was, there was too much for his gaze to truly be called dispassionate.

Vox was maintaining his calm, a fairly impressive feat these days. “You actually allowed yourself to be baited. By Valentino,” the television overlord said with what sounded like every ounce of derision he possessed. “And you always fancied yourself above such base behavior.”

Alastor giggled as a pain stabbed his chest from the inside, like a knife shoving up through his sternum. “Says the one who’s simply let Valentino use him as a meal ticket for the past forty years.”

“I wouldn’t be laughing if I were you,” Vox snarled, a crack in that carefully-constructed image he so dutifully maintained. One of his hands hit the table beside Alastor’s head and he leaned forward to loom over the Radio Demon as Alastor turned his face away, still snickering. “You aren’t exactly in an advantageous position here, Alastor. Do you really want to push me right now?”

“Of course not,” Alastor said with a false contrition, his eyes cutting over to Vox while his face remained turned away. “These newfangled flatscreens topple so easily. I would be absolutely mortified if I broke your face again.”

Fury passed across Vox’s screen for a moment… but only a moment. It calmed, quite suddenly, as he raised his other hand and extended his index finger. Alastor had only a moment to wonder what the actual fuck was happening before Vox touched one of the somethings buried in his arm.

“FUCK!!” Alastor screamed, the word torn from his lips unbidden, as a horrific jolt of unadulterated and pure agony shot through his arm, down into his fingers and up into his shoulder and neck. His hand spasmed, joints cracking and claws gouging the metal table, as his head snapped to nearly lean his ear against his shoulder. The next moment, the overwhelming sensation of active torture vanished, leaving behind a throbbing hurt and the occasional uncontrolled twitch of his fingers and shoulder.

Alastor gasped for breath against the feeling of a heavy weight on his chest, his smile widening as he focused on Vox’s face, studying him as though he were a mildly interesting test audience for a new pilot. “What…” Alastor’s voice gave out, and his head twitched, before he managed to focus again. “…the fuck… did you do…?”

Vox raised an eyebrow. “You’re providing me with intensely useful metrics,” he said. “I had an idea for a new game show, but I hadn’t had the chance to actually perform any meaningful tests to determine what, precisely, would be an appropriate range. After all, it has to be painful enough to be entertaining, but not so painful that the contestants will either pass out or explode too quickly.”

Alastor curled his lip. “I am not your test subject.”

“You… are, actually.” Vox smiled at him, a smile that was nasty and cold and nothing like what he let most other people see. “Listen. Alastor. You are the one who elected to enter into my domain. You nearly tore the damn building down. If I let you go, you’d just proceed to destroy everything you could get your hands on.”

“Obviously,” Alastor hissed.

Vox ignored the interjection. “So, clearly, I can’t release you; it’s not in the company’s best interest. And, if I have you here anyway, I may as well make use of you.”

The word brought the taste of bile into Alastor’s mouth, and he jerked against his bindings, but his body felt… weak. It was as though it didn’t want to obey the commands of his brain. “I am going to free myself from this little contraption of yours, and the moment I do, I am going to fucking kill you.”

“I’m sure you’ll try,” Vox allowed. “But we both know that if you could kill me, you would have already done it.” He turned away, going back to whatever he had been doing out of Alastor’s line of sight. “To answer your question, I’ve inserted silver-plated wires into your muscles. Silver is the most conductive metal, so it will be the most efficient in transferring electricity directly into your flesh. I’m going to gauge your responses to different levels of electrical shock in different places. And you can try to break out all you like, but your nervous system and your brain aren’t communicating right now, and probably won’t be until long after I’m done here.”

Alastor found himself laughing, the sound high and weak as he struggled to breathe, as though the electric shock had flattened his lungs. “And you say I’m sick.”

“You are,” Vox said. “But I really do have to ask. How, exactly, was it that Val got you to come here?”

Alastor snorted. “Why so curious?”

“Because Val is an idiot. But you were so very upset when you arrived.” Vox returned to the table and leaned his hip against it, folding his arms as he looked down at Alastor once more. “I’m sure it will interest you to know that Angel Dust is with him again.”

Alastor wasn’t sure what, precisely, his face did when Vox said that. Whatever it was, though, it was clear that Vox wasn’t expecting it. The television overlord’s eyes widened for a moment before narrowing, his teeth gritting visibly and his left eye spasming briefly. Alastor kept his own voice as steady as he could. “You can’t keep me here forever, Vox,” he said, his voice low. “When I am done with you, and when I am done with Valentino, there will not be enough of you left to even whimper in the radio chorus.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing all of…” Vox’s screen glitched, and he shook it a little, clearing the image. “You’re endangering yourself, debasing yourself, degrading yourself, and for what? A common whore?”

Alastor’s smile sharpened. “The fact that you think he’s common shows how incomparably myopic you are, Vox.”

Years ago, Alastor had realized that he had never truly understood Vox’s mind or how it worked. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking at any given moment, and his motivations (particularly where Alastor himself was concerned) had always been downright unfathomable. That was why, Alastor supposed, he couldn’t predict Vox’s movements when he suddenly held up another silver-plated wire in his clenched fist and slammed it down into Alastor’s arm, piercing straight through the little spider in the crook of his elbow.

Alastor’s scream morphed into laughter that sounded unhinged even to himself, punctuating continued shrieks of agony as electricity shuddered into his soulmate mark. Eventually, it didn’t even sound like it was coming from his own mouth, his consciousness disconnecting and reconnecting as though trying to find a particularly weak station signal on an old radio.

You can’t keep me here forever, Vox.

He knew that more he repeated it, the easier it would become to believe.

•••

Angel stumbled across the bare tile floor and slammed into the wall across from the doorway, unable to catch himself to cushion the blow to his shoulder and the side of his head. His teeth ground together as his socked feet slowly slid across the cold ceramic, his body slipping down the wall in what felt like slow motion until he landed on his hip in an inelegant, uncomfortable slump.

He could still see the agony on Alastor’s face as he collapsed, hear the soft buzz of electricity as he twitched involuntarily, like the moment now seared into his memory had happened moments ago when, at this point, it had to have been more than four hours. When Valentino had dragged him from the studio and into the nearest room with a surface flat enough to pretend to be a bed, he had proceeded to treat Angel like a rag doll, beating him and touching him, taking out what seemed to be every frustration he had built up since the 70s on Angel’s defenseless flesh. He had once thought he could never feel more worthless and disgusting, but Valentino had proven him wrong. Angel hadn’t even been aware of leaving the room, only vaguely registering that he was being dragged down the hallway before Valentino opened a nondescript door and threw him inside.

“I have given you everything you have.”

He tried not to let his pain show on his face. He really did. Even so, Angel could feel the corners of his eyes pinching with pain as he slowly opened them and looked up at Valentino, the overlord standing in the doorway, blocking it with his arms and the cape-like wings that twitched, threatening to open. Valentino would have almost looked dispassionate, were it not for the blood on his claws and spattering the front of his shirt.

Angel’s blood.

The same blood now smeared on the wall behind him, marking the path of his descent like the trail of a large and dying snail.

Angel didn’t answer, and Valentino took his silence as response enough, baring his teeth and digging gouges in the doorframe. “You were nothing before I found you,” he hissed. “Nothing. And without me, you would always be nothing. After everything I have given you, this is how you repay me?”

Angel had never felt so tired in his entire life. Something deep in his mind told him that this, right here, was it. This was going to be the rest of his life. Valentino was stupid, sure, but he wasn’t a complete idiot, and he must have grown his extra hands to make it easier to hold a grudge because the porn overlord had never and would never forgive what he determined to be a true betrayal. In Valentino’s eyes, Angel had betrayed him; no amount of apologizing or flattery or cocksucking would ever be enough to lift him out of the hole he had dug himself into. It wouldn’t be enough for Valentino to turn him out, of course—no, Valentino would much rather make Angel Dust’s life an active Hell for the rest of eternity—but it would be hanging over him for the rest of time, unless he threw himself on an exorcist’s spear during the next extermination.

Angel’s voice was flat in his own ears when he spoke. “Fuck you, Val.”

Valentino’s eye twitched behind his sunglasses. “You will eat those words, Angel Dust,” he said. Angel thought he might leave then, but instead, he said, “He will never love you.”

I know that.

Still, hearing it out loud, and from Valentino of all people, cut through Angel’s haze of numbness with a hot blade that seemed to slice into his core. He flinched, but he didn’t say anything, and because Valentino’s vision sucked, he didn’t notice.

He also didn’t stop.

“You’re more brainless than I thought, amorcito,” Valentino said with a remarkable level of control. “To believe that someone like you could be enough to sway the Radio Demon? You’re gutter trash, a filthy crack whore who would sell out his own family for a dime bag. He won’t look twice at the best this shithole has to offer. What makes you think something like you could change that?”

It would have been easier to take if Valentino had been yelling, but he wasn’t. No, it was that soft, mocking tone he took when he knew he’d found one of the flaws that made a crack in Angel’s psyche big enough for him to dig his claws into and pour his words in like poisonous smoke. Angel wanted to tell him to go fuck himself again, but he was so… tired.

Angel lowered his head. Valentino said something about not trusting him on his own while he checked on the status of the building, and then he left, closing the door behind him. Angel heard the click of the lock, the slow retreat of footsteps… and then nothing.

Slowly, Angel raised his head again, glancing around at where he had been left now that Valentino wasn’t around to observe his mild curiosity and trepidation. It looked like one of the many, many storage rooms VoxTek had scattered around the building; very few of them had a dedicated purpose, instead serving as a place to put furniture or equipment when rooms on the floor were being cleaned or the tech was being updated or any number of other reasons you might want bulky items neatly stacked somewhere out of the way.

This particular storage room appeared to be currently in disuse, the only other thing inside (besides Angel himself) being a bare, stark white lightbulb set high in the ceiling with no visible switches to turn it off. Outside of that, he saw nothing but bare off-white walls and bare white tile, both only marred by Angel’s blood where he had smeared it along the wall and let it drip onto the floor. It was almost blinding, and Angel screwed his eyes shut, letting his head fall back with a soft thud of impact that shouldn’t have hurt but sent pain shuddering all along his spine.

Now that he was alone, Angel felt nothing but pain. Cold seeped into his skin through his socks, the only clothing he had been allowed—and only because Valentino hadn’t bothered to rip them off—and he shivered, wrapping his arms around his bent legs and burying his face in his knees. The mark on his leg pulsed softly, like a heartbeat, and he realized he was crying.

This is so fucking pathetic, he thought, even though he was well aware that berating himself wouldn’t do shit for him or anyone else. All he wanted to do was get out of this room, find Alastor, and get both of them out of there. He’d happily break Vox’s screen if that was what it took.

No matter how badly he wanted to do something, to do anything at all besides sit uselessly in a closet trying to stop crying, he knew it was useless because even if he did manage to find Alastor and free him and even actually stand up to Vox, Valentino could use that fucking chain to stop him. It would be trivial. It wouldn’t help. It might even make Alastor’s situation worse.

Then again, you’re making a lot of assumptions. Alastor might not even still be here. How could Vox keep him? Why would he stay?

Why did he come here in the first place?

Angel sniffled, raising his head just enough to rub his eyes and listening to any sounds he could pick up coming from anywhere else in the building. Even though the power had come back on, it sounded like most of the systems weren’t currently running; more than likely, a ton of fuses had blown, and it would probably take a while to fix them. Since he couldn’t hear the omnipresent and overbearing electric hum that usually followed him whenever he was in this damn place, he was able to pick up the distant and muffled sound of voices somewhere below him, even more distant equipment banging and crashing as employees dealt with the aftermath of Alastor’s rampage, and a hollow sort of nothingness that came with the knowledge that he was alone and no one would be coming for him until Valentino decided to let him out.

Angel’s breath hitched in a sob and he cursed himself, pressing the heels of two hands into his eyes. “Stop it,” he muttered to himself, but it did nothing to stem the burgeoning tide of tears burning as they leaked out through tightly-clamped eyelids and soaked his palms. A third hand balled into a fist and struck the wall behind him, a sensation that did nothing but increase his frustration and make him wish he had something considerably more fleshy to rip apart. “Stupid,” he hissed, not even certain who he was saying it to anymore. He needed to think of something, but his mind was so—

A cold hand wrapped around Angel’s wrist and he screamed, jerking away and striking out at the sudden intruder. His hand hit nothing but air until his knuckles collided with the wall in a sharp snap that made him gasp with pain, yanking it back and cradling it to his chest. Nothing else touched him.

“What the fuck?” Angel whispered, rubbing tears from his eyes to clear his vision. There was nothing else in the room, just him, that blinding lightbulb, his blood, and his shadow.

No. Not his shadow.

Angel’s eyes widened as his vision adjusted and he could actually tell what he was looking at. Alastor’s shadow was on the wall beside him, back a couple of feet as though giving him room. There was something almost apologetic in the way the dark, angular, contorted figure held its hands and the way its mouth twisted into the sort of deep and worried frown Alastor’s own face seemed incapable of wearing. As Angel lowered his arm, raised on instinct to guard his face, the shadow seemed to relax minutely and return to a shape more familiar but no less off-putting.

“…Alastor…” Angel felt as though his heart was breaking at the same moment as the very sight of that shadow caused it to swell, two of his hands moving to the floor between his knees so he could lean forward and reach out a third hand. Angel rubbed his eyes with his fourth hand, sniffling wetly and clearing his throat. “Hey, Big Guy, come back, it’s okay,” he said, the words coming out as a rough murmur.

The shadow tilted its head, in a sense, before drifting across the wall back towards Angel. It reached out towards him, then stopped, twitching sharply like it was in pain.

“…!” Angel slid back over to the wall, placing his hands against the surface; as his fingers touched the blackness that formed the shadow, he felt that depthless cold again, the same that he felt every time Alastor had swept him into his own personal darkness. “What’s wrong?” he asked, pushing past the hurt of his ruined throat. “Are you— is he—…” He wasn’t sure how to ask what he meant.

The shadow’s twitching stilled, its form shifting in minute ways like it was actually catching its breath. Its face tilted down towards Angel’s hands before it moved its own arms, and as it did, Angel watched its shadowy fingers cascade across the backs of his own hands, like it was entwining their hands. The cold made him shiver, but he didn’t move away; even if his fingers had gone numb, he would have stayed right where he was.

“I’m so sorry,” Angel murmured. He reached up a third hand, but didn’t touch the wall. Instead, he watched his own shadow move closer until it touched Alastor’s. Instantly, as though it could feel his shadow hand like a real touch, it tilted into the touch and began practically nuzzling his shadow palm with the top of its head. Even though Angel wasn’t touching the wall, he could have sworn he felt the ruffle of hair, the hard ridge of an antler, and even the soft fur of an ear against his palm and fingers. “I don’t know what to do,” he confessed, watching as the shadow kept pressing its head against the silhouette of his hand. “Val locked me in here and won’t let me out until he comes back.” The shadow’s mouth twisted into a snarl, as if the very mention of Valentino had triggered some sort of rage within it. “And even if I…” Angel shook his head, moving his fingers to make his shadow scritch the manifestation’s ear. “…he won’t let me out of his sight. I know he won’t.”

At those words, Alastor’s shadow straightened, and as it removed its hands from Angel’s, it felt like he had suddenly dipped his fingers into hot water, so sudden was the return of warmth to his skin. The shadow hesitated at Angel’s surprised gasp, but it swept along the walls until it reached the door, and within moments, it had vanished through the crack at the base.

“Wait…!” Angel called, but the shadow was out of sight before he even thought of getting the word out. Slowly deflating, Angel had less than a breath to wonder what he was going to do now when he heard a tiny click from the door. Angel gasped, backing away, but it didn’t open. It didn’t sound like anyone was out there at all, least of all Valentino and his unbridled rage.

When he heard nothing else, Angel slowly got to his feet, placing his hand on the handle and pressing down. With another little click, the door creaked open, and Angel carefully peered out into the dim hallway. There was no one else, not even the terrifying and comforting shape of Alastor’s shadow lurking in the dark. The rooms sounded completely empty, everyone who normally would have been on the floor doubtless busy with the destruction happening far below him.

Angel glanced back at the closet, then made his decision and closed it behind him, twisting the lock with his thumb. He then ran down the hall, heading for the stairwell that would take him to a back hall he could use to reach his dressing room. Valentino wouldn’t check there first, second, or even third, and he had clothes in there that he could change into while he was thinking. He didn’t have a lot of time and he needed to make the most of the little he did have.

Alastor was somewhere in the building, after all, and Angel wasn’t going to leave him, soul contract be damned.

•••

It had been a long time since the vibe (that was the right word, right?) of the hotel had felt this… off. The Hazbin Hotel had its problems, just like any business, and the residents sometimes had their problems, but the atmosphere wasn’t usually this heavy. In fact, this was as bad as it had gotten since the evening after the last extermination.

Charlie had been yelled at for pacing, which meant she was now standing behind the front desk, watching everyone else. Niffty was still hanging out with Husk, who was doing his best to keep her occupied while they waited for any kind of news, silently validating Charlie’s own opinion that he really was a sweetheart under all of his grumpiness. Cherri was sitting with the guy apparently named Arackniss, who was also apparently Angel Dust’s brother, and Charlie would have eaten a whole pinecone for the chance to ask him just… so many questions if it wasn’t for the fact that this was definitely not the time. Moxxie, Millie, and Loona were only a short distance from them; occasionally, it looked like the five of them were interacting a little, but for the most part were just waiting for news (and, in I.M.P.’s case, for their boss to come back).

Charlie knew how they felt. She was certain everything was fine and there was no question that contract things could take a long time, but she couldn’t stand not knowing where Vaggie was. She pulled out her phone, but her girlfriend still hadn’t sent her anything since the text saying Prince Stolas was looking the contract over, and that had been forever ago.

The wait was driving her insane, and Charlie was trying to come up with something that she could do to pass the time (that wouldn’t end with Husk yelling at her to sit down) when the front door opened with an abrupt jerk.

Immediately, Charlie was alert, and she saw that awareness spread through the rest of the room as everyone diverted their attention to Vaggie and Blitzø as they came in, the imp shutting the door behind him. He pointed at Charlie as they approached, Charlie herself hopping over the desk and hurrying over to meet them halfway. “Your girlfriend flies like a fucking maniac,” Blitzø said, his voice winded.

Vaggie looked entirely unapologetic, and didn’t even look at him as she pulled the folded contract from her pocket. Charlie clasped her hands together in front of her chest as everyone else began gathering, some at more of a distance than others. “So? How did it go?”

“He found a loophole,” Vaggie said, offering the contract out for Charlie to take, which she did almost on reflex. “We just have to figure out how to get it to work.”

“How to—?” Charlie blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not going to pretend I perfectly understood everything he said,” Vaggie said, glancing at Blitzø; he shrugged at her, and she turned back to Charlie. “But in a nutshell, the contract is still active because Valentino keeps increasing the value of his soul. Because of the wording in the contract, since he’s lived here for six months, you now have the power to do that. If you change the value to less than he’s made for VoxTek, the contract will end. But I don’t know how you’re supposed to do that.”

“He didn’t say?” Charlie asked.

Blitzø shook his head. “If he’d known, he would have told us. Soul contracts aren’t his bag, he’s not that kind of Goetia. Moxxie,” he added a little sharply.

Immediately, the other imp straightened. “Sir?”

“You’re good with contracts,” Blitzø said. “Go over it with the princess, see if you can’t help her figure out how it works.”

“Wha— um, yeah, sure.” Moxxie cast Blitzø an almost suspicious look, but broke away from Millie, crossing to Charlie. “If that’s okay with you?”

“Oh, yeah, please,” Charlie said. “We don’t deal with a lot of contracts here, and when we do— well. Alastor usually handles that,” she said a little sheepishly. It felt like every time something new cropped up this past month, she was faced with yet another thing she didn’t know how to do. Shaking off the feeling, she said, “Come on, let’s go back here.”

She led Moxxie through a hallway back behind the front desk to the management office, a place that she herself rarely used; though it was officially her office, Alastor and Vaggie got a lot more use out of it than she did, tending to paperwork or restocking orders and other more tedious work while she handled the face-to-face, public relations sort of duties. Charlie hesitated, then sat at the chair behind the desk, inviting Moxxie to pull a chair over and— “Oh!” Charlie blinked. “I didn’t hear you follow us.”

“That’s my M.O.” Arackniss leaned against the closed door, one set of arms folded across his chest. He had the same expression on that he’d had ever since Charlie first saw him, one that she had a Heaven of a time trying to read. “I thought you could use someone who’s got experience with Sinner contracts. Crimson don’t usually work with those, right?”

Charlie didn’t know what he meant, but apparently Moxxie did, because he stood up straighter. “How do you know him?” he asked, his voice immediately guarded and almost hostile.

Arackniss raised an unimpressed eyebrow, holding up one hand. “Cool your jets, kid,” he said. “I ain’t had the dubious honor of his acquaintance, but he has… entered my sphere of awareness, you might say. He don’t interest me, in any case.”

Moxxie was incredibly tense as he stood, watching Arackniss like he was thinking of… well, from what Charlie had learned after getting in on the ground level (as it were) in Hell society, it looked like Moxxie was thinking about shooting him. Instead, he said, “I didn’t really deal with Sinners there, no. And the contracts we do make with Sinners these days are a lot different and don’t have anything to do with souls.”

Arackniss walked over and placed two of his hands on the desk, looking at Charlie as she sat down in the office chair. “Right. So, let’s look at that contract and see exactly what it says.”

“Ah— right,” Charlie said, opening it up and smoothing over it with her hand to keep it flat against the desktop. The paper had that smooth, almost glass-like quality that paper tended to get when it was really aged; according to the date, it was more than fifty years old, by Sinner reckoning. She scanned over the words, looking for relevant passages, before her eyes lit on something likely. “Ah, here we go, maybe,” she said. “It says… The Contractee—” she glanced at the beginning of the text “—which is Angel Dust, hereby agrees to relinquish ownership of their quintessence to the Aheydrun, which I’m guessing is Valentino, for the purposes of manifest energy transference, defeasance of volition and percopacity and the supersedence thereof, and engagement in the vocation of indecorous dramatization in accordance with paragraph four until such time as the Contractee has repaid their determined value, the appreciation of which is subject to the Aheydrun’s discretion.” She hesitated, then looked up. “What’s an Aheydrun?”

Arackniss shrugged at her. Moxxie frowned. “It’s a Goetian word. It sounds archaic. I don’t know it, but I’m guessing that’s what Vaggie and Blitzø were referring to.”

Charlie nodded. “…so… Angel signed his soul over to Valentino and gave him the promise to perform in any film asked of him, all of the power his soul acquired during the span of the contract, and signed over his free will? …why?”

“Because he either didn’t read it or didn’t understand it,” Arackniss said. “Doubt most any Sinners would understand that shit, it’s intentionally worded to be confusing.”

Charlie nodded and looked down again. “The Aheydrun can determine the value… and Vaggie said that I can do that now, because he’s lived here for six months?”

Moxxie shrugged. “If that’s what Prince Stolas said, it’s probably right.”

“Okay,” Charlie said. “How, though?”

“That’s the question. May I?” Arackniss asked, holding his hand out. Charlie nodded and passed it to him, and he took it, looking it over quickly. “Sinner contracts ain’t as ritualistic as Hellborn contracts. You know, we took the concept and… capitalized it, you might say. Assumin’ Valentino followed those rules, it’ll be something kinda ritualistic, but more like a password of sorts.” He waved one hand, thinking, and Charlie was suddenly reminded of the way Angel flailed his arms when he was trying to process his thoughts. “…say if, when Valentino first set the price, he took a piece of paper and drew some kinda symbol on it, then spoke the new value and burned the paper. From then on, he’d hafta draw the same symbol on the same kinda paper and burn it in the same kinda fire every time he reevaluates Tony’s soul.”

Moxxie nodded. “…I guess that would explain why he doesn’t do it very often.” He took the contract from Arackniss and started looking not at the text, but rather at the front, back, and sides of the paper itself. “I only observed Valentino twice, but that’s all I need to know that he’s the kind to simplify things wherever possible.”

Charlie looked between them. “…blood?” she suggested.

Arackniss thought for a moment. “…it would be the most cliche, so… it’d make sense if he thought’a that first.”

“Sinners really are obsessed with the idea of blood sacrifice,” Moxxie sighed. “But it’s the easiest way to transfer energy, so that makes sense.” He tilted the contract again. “The back of the paper is discolored, like something spilled on it. But he clearly takes good care of it. If the paper itself is enchanted, maybe he just cut himself open and bled on the contract itself.”

“What if we’re wrong?” Charlie asked with a frown.

“Then the contract will have blood on it. That’s about it.”

“…right. That makes sense.” She opened the drawer and pulled out the letter opener Alastor had insisted that they have for their office (which was funny because he always just opened envelopes with his claw anyway), a thin and curved knife with a simple dark wood handle and an ebony blade. Moxxie put the contract down, and Charlie placed the blade against her palm, lightly closing her fingers around it. She took a breath, and— “Wait, how much am I supposed to say his soul is worth?”

Moxxie and Arackniss exchanged looks. “…how much has Angel Dust made in his career at VoxTek?” Moxxie asked. “Less than that.”

Charlie understood—she really did!—but she felt her eyes misting up anyway. “But that seems so mean,” she complained. “I don’t think Angel could be bought with any amount of money, he’s priceless!”

Arackniss made a sound like he was surprised. “Sweet as that is, Princess, it—”

“Charlie,” she interjected.

“Okay, sweet as that is, Charlie, him being considered priceless the problem we’re dealin’ with,” he said. “It don’t matter what you say. It ain’t what you really think and it’s just breakin’ the contract. And if you lowball it, he’s gonna think it’s real fuckin’ funny.”

“Yeah?” Charlie asked, then, “…yeah, that’s… that’s true. Okay.” She knew how sex jokes worked. Nodding once, she almost cut her hand open, before Arackniss held his hand out again. “Ow! What?” Charlie asked, quickly moving her hand away as the knick on the side of her palm, which the knife split when she jumped, oozed a drop of blood that only fell on her pants because she moved back.

“It has to be as close to what he did as possible,” Arackniss said. “That means we need his… blood, or his DNA, or something, in addition to yours. If this is how he did it, he imbued it into the contract every time.”

Charlie’s nose wrinkled. “Ew.”

Moxxie threw his hands up. “How are we supposed to get that? We don’t have time!”

Fighting past the thoughts that the phrase Valentino’s DNA conjured in her head, Charlie sat up. “Oh! Oh, wait, no, I know!” She scrambled up and ran to the door, opening it and calling out. “Niffty! Niffty, I need you!”

Both of the men behind her made confused mutters, but Charlie ignored them as Niffty came scampering down the hallway and slammed into Charlie’s legs. The little maid wrapped her arms around one of the princess’s calfs, staring up at her with an excited smile. “I love to be needed,” she said throatily.

Charlie chose to ignore that. “Do you want to help save Angel?”

Somehow, Niffty’s eye grew wider. “YES.”

“Then I need a little bit of your collection,” Charlie said. “Specifically, I need just a bit of the specimen you gathered at Consent.”

Niffty blinked once, twice, and then gasped before she started giggling. “Be right back!” she trilled, running off.

Charlie returned to her seat, Moxxie and Arackniss still staring at the door. “Her collection,” Moxxie echoed flatly. “Do I want to know what she collects?”

“Bugs.”

“…uh-huh.”

Niffty was nothing if not efficient, running back into the office and hopping onto the desk to offer Charlie a little tuft of white and black fur. “Is this good?”

“It’s perfect. It’s okay if I destroy it, right?”

“Sure,” Niffty said. “It’s only a little bit of my sample, and besides, if nothing else…” Her face turned downright terrifying. “I can always get more.”

“Thank you, Niffty,” Charlie said, thinking again how glad she was that she had so much time to adjust to the force of personality that was Niffty.

“Uh-huh!” Still looking genuinely thrilled to have been helpful, Niffty hopped down, running out of the room again.

Arackniss watched her go. “…bugs,” he said, not looking away from the door. “So then, what’s that fur?”

“She stole part of Valentino’s ruff,” Charlie said. “It’s apparently part of his body.”

“…she did that at Consent?” Arackniss asked, something that sounded almost like respect entering his voice. “…she really is some woman, ain’t she?”

“She’s great,” Charlie said, squinting at the back of Arackniss’s head. She didn’t have time to unpack that. Instead, she checked between them for any more interruptions, then sliced her palm open, gathering the blood in her hand and dropping the fur into it. She thought for a second, and then said, “I, Charlotte Morningstar, current Aheydrun of the Contractee named herein, have reassessed the value of the Contractee’s soul and have determined its worth to be sixty-nine cents.” She tilted her hand, the blood trickling onto the contract before the fur tuft landed with a small, wet splat. There was a strange, undefinable sound, and then the blood began to vanish into the words of the contract themselves, even dragging the blood-soaked fur along with it. When she looked up, she noticed the other two staring at her. “…what?”

Moxxie blinked once, slowly. “…sixty…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“I do understand sex jokes, y’know, I’m not exactly single, and I wasn’t wasting his opportunity to get that printed on a shirt,” Charlie said. “So… how do we know whether or not it worked?”

“It looks like it did something, at least.” Arackniss took off his hat, then ran his hand back through the fur that made up his hair. “Guess we’ll have to wait an’ see.”

“Right.” Charlie closed her hand around the cut in her palm, staring at the contract again. She was getting so tired of waiting. “Can you two do me a favor?”

The response was hesitant. “I… guess…?” Moxxie frowned. “Will this get me beaten up?”

“No!” Charlie said, hopping up. “Noooo no no no, it’ll be fine. Just tell people I had to step out for a minute but I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Arackniss said. “You didn’t tell us where you’re goin’, and we ain’t gonna stop nobody who tries to follow you.”

“That’s totally fair. Thank you,” Charlie said. “And… thank you, both of you. Seriously.” They both looked surprised, but she just grinned, offering them a wave before hurrying out of the office and down another hall to the service door.

I’m so tired of waiting. I’m not going to do that anymore. If you care about something, you fight for it, right? Right.

So that’s what I’ll do.

•••

It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than nothing. Angel didn’t keep a lot of normal clothing in his dressing room, but shorts and a tank top were better than nothing, and he pulled them on (skipping shoes, as they would be too loud) as he thought.

Vox had Alastor. Alastor was clearly in some kind of pain, judging by his shadow’s strange behavior and its disappearance. That meant Vox was probably doing something, and he wouldn’t be doing something just anywhere; he had an image to maintain, after all, and the only way he would publicly torture the Radio Demon would be if he was doing it for a television show.

I know Vox better than that. He wants this to be private. Personal. Intimate, even.

Angel snuck back out of his dressing room and took off, heading for the wall and quickly scaling it to disappear into the vents. He didn’t get to do this much, since he usually had eyes on him at all times, but one of the ways he’d become friends with Rocky over the years was finding opportunities to drop on the big lug out of nowhere. Angel had the building memorized, and he quickly traversed the vent system, heading up to the floor where the Vees kept their own private suites. He was familiar with Valentino’s, but he had never been in Vox’s, and when he pivoted direction he got his very first glimpse of the place.

“Okay, just— just stay here,” a voice said below Angel. God dammit. Vox’s assistant. Angel seriously couldn’t stand the guy and his sycophantic bullshit, and he barely even remembered his name even after knowing him for thirty years. Blink? Was it Blink?

Angel peeked in to see who he was talking to, and froze, though he shouldn’t have been surprised. Blink was holding his hands out placatingly and talking about how dangerous things were, while across from him sat… Vark. Enormous, sharp-toothed, wide-eyed Vark, Vox’s pet land hammerhead shark that had once gone everywhere at his heel until the creature grew too large to easily traverse the corridors. Now, Angel rarely thought about Vark—out of sight, out of mind, and all that—but of course he would be in Vox’s suite if he wasn’t swimming around in the giant fish tanks that seemed to stretch the height of several floors.

Vark made a noise somewhere between a dog’s yap and the sound a shark might make if sharks made noise, and Blink backed up sharply. “No,” Blink said firmly. “Sit. Mr. Vox wants you to stay here. He’ll be back. Okay?”

Vark tilted his head, and Angel smirked. It was the same look Fat Nuggets gave when he didn’t understand something, which was all the time.

Blink, like he was just satisfied that Vark was seated now, quickly hurried out of the room and locked the door behind him. Immediately, Vark stood up, then wandered to the door in a mild confusion before wandering back and then starting to meander around the room with no real destination in mind.

Angel took his eyes off the shark to, instead, look around the room as best he could from his vantage point. Vox’s room was exactly what Angel expected, all the same sorts of sleek style and dark colors accented with electric blue and red. It was clean and sterile in a way that put Angel on edge, and he knew beyond a doubt that this was not somewhere he wanted to be.

He was about to move away when something else caught his eye: a glimpse of red, so different from Vox’s that he couldn’t help stopping and taking a second look.

Alastor’s coat.

Not just his coat, either, but that was the first thing he noticed: Alastor’s coat, laid out on the corner of Vox’s bed near the foot, with such care that it looked like it had been smoothed over with hands. Next to it, his shirt and pants were folded with his standing collar, bow tie, and monocle, his shoes set on the floor nearby.

It was… almost reverent, and that made it fucking creepy.

Angel hadn’t found Alastor, but he had found his clothes, and he would think about how skeevy that was when he had even two spare minutes. There was no vent near the bed, which meant he was going to have to play this as carefully as possible, because otherwise he was losing an arm.

Carefully, Angel began unfastening the vent cover, but even with as quiet as he was being he attracted Vark’s attention. The shark swiveled and stared up at him with wide eyes, and Angel froze, staring back. There was no barking frenzy or any other noise; Vark just stared, his tail wagging back and forth slowly, looking for all the world like he was confused about how this visitor had come visiting but wasn’t too fussed about it.

“…you are, without a doubt, the best Vee,” Angel whispered. Vark wagged a little faster when he was spoken at.

Since there was no frenzy and it wasn’t like he could just hide again and make Vark forget he was there, Angel finished and pulled the vent cover into the vent itself before leaning out. Still, Vark watched him with concentrated interest, and Angel slowly lowered himself onto a round metal table and crouching before his socks could slip.

Angel looked around quickly, his eyes falling on a bag of treats. Picking them up, he showed them to Vark. “These yours, sweetie?” Vark perked up immediately. “Then I’ll tell you what,” he continued, keeping his voice as friendly and gentle as he could. He pointed at Alastor’s clothes. “I need those. You lemme get ‘em, and this whole bag’s yours. Deal?”

Vark blinked, following the line of his hand, then walked over to Alastor’s clothes. He sniffed the coat and then sneezed immediately, and Angel had to suppress a laugh; he knew he had gotten used to the Radio Demon’s intentional ‘stay away from me’ odor, but he couldn’t imagine how it would smell to something so hypersensitive.

Vark cast Angel a look that was almost plaintive. Angel snorted. “Yeah. Yeah, I need all that.” He would have sworn Vark sighed before he leaned forward and, to Angel’s shock, grabbed the sleeve of Alastor’s coat between his teeth. Angel almost told him to stop, but Vark wasn’t paying attention; he tugged it off the bed, then dragged it to the table, dropping the sleeve on the surface in front of Angel and wagging.

Angel stared at him. “…you’re a lot smarter than you look,” he said, pulling out a squishy meat treat that smelled like fish and tossing it gently. Vark immediately wiggled with excitement and snapped it out of the air, revealing his massive teeth and an incredibly terrifying snap of his jaw. Angel’s laugh was more nervous this time. “Oh my god you got a lot of… mouth… dontcha?” He cleared his throat. “Wanna get me the rest?”

It took longer than Angel would have liked, but it kept Vark happy and calm, so he stayed crouched while Vark brought him each part of Alastor’s attire in exchange for a treat until Angel had all of it gathered up and held against his torso in his third set of arms.

“Thanks, Vark. You’re a good boy,” Angel said. Vark leaned towards him, and Angel hesitated before carefully reaching out and rubbing him on the front of his head between his eyes. Vark purred, then wandered off, like he was happy to have done a good job and had officially lost interest now that he had been praised. Angel couldn’t be mad about it, and he climbed back into the vent, putting the cover back in place before anyone came in.

At least something went right.

It was harder getting around with his arms full, but Angel took his time to make sure he didn’t drop anything, carefully searching floors where he knew Vox did most of his work. His lack of direction and his desperation were just driving him into frustration when Angel didn’t see anything or hear anything, but he felt something… like the air itself was being disturbed by some kind of interference.

That, he thought. He didn’t know how he knew, but he did. He was sure of it.

Angel followed that strange feeling as it grew heavier, leading him to a strange room that seemed really big but only had an illuminated table and computer console right in the center. Angel assumed there was other equipment in the dark, but he couldn’t see a damn thing. It didn’t matter, anyway, because the interference had turned into the low sound of radio static that followed Alastor everywhere but was normally so quiet it couldn’t be heard over the other ambient noises. If it wasn’t for the fact that VoxTek was so silent right now, Angel never would have heard it.

Alastor was lying on his back in the center of that table, fastened down with metal shackles and either asleep or unconscious. Angel let himself out of the vent and, after ensuring there was no one around, hurried to the side of the table and assessed the situation. Alastor was bleeding from a series of thin metal rods that had been slipped into his body through incision that had been made in his muscles, the ends of those rods rigged up to wires that ran along the floor and into the console.

“Alastor…” Angel breathed, but the Radio Demon didn’t stir. He hadn’t really expected him to. He didn’t want to leave, but there didn’t seem to be a way to force the shackles open, since they were actually a part of the table.

Angel started moving to the console, but stopped, one wire in particular catching his eye. The skin around it was bloodier than the others, and it looked like it hadn’t been slid into an incision, but had instead been stabbed straight down into… into Alastor’s soul mark.

I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you, Vox.

Grinding his teeth, Angel went to the console and racked his brain with everything he knew about passwords around the company, and namely, the ones he knew Vox had used in the past. It took a few tries, but Angel finally got the proper combination of symbols Vox favored, a couple of sets of numbers that seemed to have some meaning, and the name Clifford that popped up in Vox’s security shit a lot (whatever that meant). With a beep, he got the controls loaded, and carefully combed the menus until he found the option to release the shackles with a metallic snap and the hiss of hydraulics.

Abandoning the console, Angel ran over to the table, carefully dropping the clothes next to Alastor’s legs and leaning over the other demon. “Alastor,” he whispered urgently, reaching out and gently stroking the deer’s hair. “Alastor. C’mon, Smiles, wake up.”

Alastor’s face twitched with pain, his smile strained even while unconscious, and it took him a moment to start opening his eyes. He jerked when he saw Angel over him, probably only registering a shape, and Angel moved back a few inches and waited. Alastor looked mildly unseeing for a few moments before his eyes slowly focused. “…am I asleep?”

“Why, y’feel like you’re dreaming?”

“…no,” Alastor said. He meant something else. Angel didn’t have time to ask.

“We gotta go, Smiles,” Angel whispered. “I gotta get these wires outta you. It’s gonna hurt and you need to not make noise. Okay?”

“Oh, goodie,” Alastor said weakly, immediately slipping into flippant business mode when he saw that Angel seemed to be focused and hurrying. He laid his head back and closed his eyes. “Quiet… as a church mouse, sha… I promise.”

“You ain’t never been in a church,” Angel accused, leaning down to slowly begin working the wires out of his arm.

Alastor hissed. “Well, they seemed very… quiet from… the other side of… town, in my… defense.”

“Pretty sure all mice squeak.”

“I… do not squeak.”

Angel threw down a second wire. “I got evidence that says otherwise.”

Alastor glared down at him. “You have no such thing.

Angel smiled at him, then went back to what he was doing. “I won’t tell. It’s my special knowledge, nobody else gets that.”

As another wire slipped out, Alastor drew a breath, then started speaking in a voice that was almost hesitant. “…Angel—”

“Don’t,” Angel cut him off, speaking as gently as he could but not looking at his face. “Don’t. Not right now. I know, we gotta— we’ll talk. I promise. But not now. Okay?”

Without looking at him, Angel couldn’t know what Alastor might be thinking. But, eventually, he just said, “…of course. You’re right.”

To Alastor’s credit, he did little more than hiss or grunt at the stabs of pain, and soon Angel had every wire removed except the one that had been stabbed into him. Angel moved up and laid one hand on Alastor’s chest, a second on his bicep, and a third on his wrist. “This is gonna hurt,” he warned.

Alastor turned his head enough to look him in the eye. “…I know.”

That sounded loaded.

Angel wrapped his fourth had around the wire and waited for Alastor’s nod before he pulled straight up, pushing down with his other hands to both hold Alastor still and leverage himself up. Alastor’s face contorted in pain, and Angel moved his hand from the Radio Demon’s chest to his mouth, clamping down over his lips to muffle his cry. As another hand wrapped around the bleeding soul mark, Angel leaned down, pressing their foreheads together. “Shh, Smiles, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

Alastor’s breathing was labored and stuttering, and Angel could feel the hot moisture of each exhale, the scrape of Alastor’s teeth, the occasional touch of his tongue…

“Come on,” Angel whispered before he could get any bright ideas. He had never seen Alastor so vulnerable, and this was absolutely not the time for anything but business. “I got your clothes. We gotta get you outta here. Can you walk?”

“Of course,” Alastor grunted, though he still needed Angel to leverage him into a sitting position. He then helped Alastor into his clothing as best he could, which ended up being slacks, shirt, suspenders, shoes, and monocle. Angel left the top two buttons of the shirt undone, and with Alastor’s current state, the collar, tie, and coat were out of the question. Alastor seemed to think the same thing, because he took them in his hands and hesitated before his face contorted in pain and they vanished into shadow.

“Okay. Come on, up,” Angel said, holding his hands out to Alastor. Slowly, the Radio Demon took them, clearly hyping himself up to stand.

“Where the fuck do you two think you’re going?”

Fear shot through Angel, and he felt Alastor stiffen. Angel looked up, and just at the periphery of the ring of illumination around them, he saw—

“Val,” Angel whispered.

He didn’t know how to describe the look on Valentino’s face. Angel had never seen it before. Slowly, he began to advance, his eyes on Angel. “You really have learned how to be slippery, haven’t you, amorcito? Can you imagine my surprise when I came back to your little holding cell and found you gone?”

“Val, I—”

“And then,” he interrupted, “I hear that someone broke into Vox’s room and removed a few… items. Did you think you were being slick, Angel Dust? Did you really think you would get away with it?”

Angel held his hands up, not looking at Alastor and silently begging him to run. “Val, don’t…!”

“Do not tell me what to do!” Valentino shouted. He reached one hand out, clenched his fist, yanked…

…and nothing happened.

Angel stared at Valentino, waiting for the feeling of a chain around his throat that would drag him to the ground… but it never came. It took a moment for Valentino to come to the same conclusion, and he murmured, “…the fuck…?” before repeating the motion.

Still, nothing happened.

Valentino was in shock. Angel was in shock. What happened? Where was his chain? Where had it gone? Why couldn’t he feel it?

After a breath, Angel decided it didn’t matter. Instead, he put his hands on the metal table, scrambled up onto its surface, and launched himself at Valentino. He heard Alastor shout something, but he didn’t look, and soon all he heard was an enraged scream as Angel dragged his claws through Valentino’s face.

•••

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the-mehlwurm · 5 months

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I may or may not have just accidentally bitten down so hard on my lip that there is not a little drop of blood on my BiT shirt.

#The shirt is white #But at least its pretty much exactly where I accidentally spilled a bit of instant ramen water (idk what its called.#Just going to call it water ig)#But I know hot to remove blood from clothing #Instant ramen water though? Not so much #So hopefully I'll get it out #My tumblr posts are always so informative and useful #Sorry yall #But I guess it's your fault for reading my posts?#Like what did you expect?#Love you though #(Dont want to sound mean)

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slutforleeminho · 10 months

Text

“i wanna try something.” you breathed out between the hot and messy kisses you were giving minho, his hands gripping your waist tighter and pulling your hips down against his clothed bulge. he was already so hard, it amazed you how you could do the bare minimum and he would be fully erect in just minutes.

“whatever you want, baby.” he looked at you with so much love and admiration. that’s how he always responded to your requests, inside and outside the bedroom. ‘whatever you want, if i have it it’s yours.’ and then he’d kiss you until you forgot what it was you were even asking of him.

“you don’t even know what it is yet. how can you be so sure that you’ll want to?” you moved away from his lips to his neck, leaving little love bites as you went. he sighed when you sucked on the little sensitive spot behind his ear.

“oh baby, it isn’t in my blood to say no to you, especially when you’re sitting on top of me like this. you could tie me down to this bed right now and take me however you wanted and i wouldn’t refuse.” his brows were furrowed and eyes screwed shut, focusing on the feeling of your lips on his skin. he looked so fucked out, which made you wonder if he was just saying those things and not actually meaning them. but you refused to pass this moment up without at least trying. so you sat straight up, separating your top half from his. his eyes shot open and searched you face for the answer as to why you stopped. “did i say something wrong? i’m sorry, love, i didn’t-”

“no, you said exactly what i wanted to hear.” you smirked down at him, waiting for him to realize what you meant and when his eyes widened and you felt his dick twitch through his thin sweatpants you knew he understood. “would you like that? for me to cuff you this bed and have my way with you,” you asked in the most innocent voice you could, a big contrast to your words. “use you however i please.” your words went straight to his throbbing cock.

“yes. fuck, baby please.” his eyes were full of lust and anticipation, his voice so quiet and submissive that you didn’t recognize this person under you at all. you didn’t respond verbally, settling on silently removing yourself from his lap and stripping him of all remaining clothing. you didn’t get naked yourself until the pair of handcuffs you kept in your bedside table were safely securing his wrists to the bed frame above his head. when you did take your clothes off you did so very slowly, taking your time just to see him squirm. Minho didn’t take his eyes off of you once, not until you were back on top of him and the tip of his pulsing cock was pressed against your entrance. he threw his head back and sighed before he swallowed hard, trying to keep himself from falling apart beneath you. at least not so soon.

you took in everything about this moment, not wanting to forget anything about it. the way the veins that ran down his arms bulged, to the way he twitched every now and then, seemingly very worked up. his chest rising and falling violently, you’ve never seen him like this, so…. so submissive and pliant. it made you want to eat him alive. you ran your hands up his torso, feeling his hot skin against the palm of your hands. a little whine escaped his lips when you grazed his nipples with your fingernails. his hips rutted up into you, resulting in his swollen tip slipping inside of you. he gasped from the sudden stimulation and raised them higher in search of more. you took both of his nipple in between your fingers and and pinched them. he winced from the pain and looked at you with confusion all over his face.

“bad boy,” his eyes widened. “ i didn’t say you could do that.” you didn’t know why you had said that and immediately regretted it. minho was always the dominant one in your relationship, the one who called the shots, the one who called you a bad girl. and that’s why you were in complete shock when he uttered a quiet “i’m sorry.” you tried to hide your surprise the best you could and continue with your switched roles. “how will you make it up to me?” he scanned the room as if the answer was written on the walls somewhere, and apparently it was cause his eyes lit up as he quickly turned his head to look at you.

“sit on my face.”

“hmmm,” you pretended to think about it. “should i?” he quickly nodded and you chuckled at his eagerness. the thought did have you clenching so you moved up his body until your thighs were on either side of his head. his eyes sparkled as he stared at your dripping sex, his tongue slipping out to wet his lips. he looked starved and he just found the perfect meal, so he lifted his head in attempt to attach his lip to your core. he only made it so far before you yanked his head back by his hair. “once again, not asking for permission,” your whole brain chemistry was altered when he basically sobbed, a little tear sliding down the side of his face. “i should punish you,” you were loving this a little too much. “but that will have to wait.” he opened his mouth to say something but you cut him off by completely sitting on his mouth. he didn’t miss a beat before devouring, running his tongue through your folds before nipping and sucking harshly on your clit. his hands were balled up into fists and pulling away from the cuffs, his biceps flexing from the strain on his muscles. the veins on his arms were protruding and you couldn’t keep yourself from running a finger over them, tracing out the greenish blue lines. his skin was on fire, almost too hot for you to touch. almost.

you mindlessly started grinding down on his tongue, riding his face for your own pleasure. you weaved your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to you, chasing after the euphoric feeling you knew only he could give you. and after a few more thrusts of his tongue and sucking hard on your clit one last time, you were coming. chest heaving and moaning his name like it’s the only thing you knew. once you came down and moved off of his face minho took a deep breath of air and only then you realized you almost suffocated the poor boy. “aww i’m sorry baby, could you not breathe?” you held the side of his face, wiping away your arousal from the corner of his mouth. he was too busy trying to catch his breath to answer you but that was fine you’d get an answer out of him.

you sank down on his cock completely without so much as a warning. “ah- baby wait- i wasn’t- fuck i wasn’t ready.”

“i don’t need your permission.” you ground yourself against him. he threw his head back against the pillows and arched his back.

“if you keep going i’m gonna come. so please… stop.” he pleaded, his voice was so quiet which was very unlike him, so you knew he was telling the truth, he was about to explode.

“you want me to stop?” you went from grinding to full on bouncy on him now.

“ahh fuck i’m coming!” his eyes screwed shut, bracing himself for quite possibly the most intense orgasm he’s ever had. only for it to be ripped away. his eyes shot open. “why’d you stop?!” he looked infuriated with you, he was so close why would you take that away from him?

“you told me to stop.” you smirked at him. “why? did you want to come? i’m so, so sorry.” you were talking to him like a baby, pouting down at him like he was a child. “well i guess we can consider that your punishment.”

“uncuff me.” he demanded. “now.”

“oh baby i’d love to.” you grinned. “ but i’m not finished with you yet.”

i’m back!!!!! did you miss me?

taglist: @bangchansbae @yumiblogs @fawnpeaks

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monamipencil · 10 days

Text

— big boy ! | k.mg

⋆ pairings; mingyu x fem! reader ⋆ genre; smut ⋆ w.c; 1.2k+ ⋆ warnings; dom! reader, sub! mingyu, jealousy, slight toxicity from both of them, possessiveness, oral (f. receiving), reader is mentioned to be smaller than mingyu, size kink, reverse size kink, mingyu is a slut ⋆ a/n; yes, and is this reverse (?) size kink. no clue lol

now, this goes two ways...

either him getting so turned on by the size difference. his cock twitching in need when he sees how deep his huge cock would be buried in your cunt. and, him casually using his strength to pick you up and continue rutting his hips into you. or,

mingyu's breath hitches with each step you take towards him, and he swallows thickly, having been cornered. he looks down at you, getting lost in your lust-swollen eyes.

his cock twitches inside his pants when you press your body against his. you’re comparatively smaller than him, but you have so much fucking power over him. so much that he forgets this is a company party, and he could probably get fired if someone caught you both in the restroom like this.

“had fun? hmm?” you poke your cheek with your tongue, progressively getting annoyed as he continues to stay silent.

“of course, you did. I mean all those girls were practically throwing themselves at you. liked the attention?”

you can only adjust for so long. and, you couldn't care less if someone would label you as toxic. ever since he stepped in, his so-called coworkers had been flirting with and touching him. you were right there beside him. if it's this bad with you around, how bad is it without you?

your blood boils, and your dress feels too tight, rendering you breathless. your patience runs thin with every passing second. but to mingyu, this whole situation is hot.

who knew you were this possessive? and that fucking dress hugging your body isn't doing him any good. his back presses against the cold tile of the basin, and you place your hands on either side of his body, looking up at him.

he could easily overpower you, pin you to the wall, and have his way with you. but he can't even move his fingers for the life of him, and there's a voice inside his head, screaming at him to submit to you.

and he does. you pull him down by grabbing his collars and trace his jaw with your nose. the faint flowery perfume you don't use taints his scent, and your nose scrunches up in distaste.

“tch,”

you roughly pull yourself away from him. mingyu whines at the loss of contact, his hands itching to grab your waist. but you stop him by pinning his hands together at the front.

a pout forms on his pretty lips, and he stares at you with wide “innocent” eyes. if you lacked some self-control, you would've roughly kissed him and fucked him for everyone else to hear.

pressing a small kiss to his lips, you roughly grab his hard cock. his hip bucks into your hand, dick twitching beneath the layer of clothes. whines echo in the restroom, but you shoot him a warning glare, and he promptly shuts up.

after a few gropes and squeezes, you remove your hand, satisfied with how riled up he is now. he doesn't move but simply whimpers and whines. again, he knows he can overpower you. but there's a difference between knowing and wanting. mingyu wants you to ruin him.

“ugh, i want to fuck you so bad.” he whimpers, pulling you flush against him. with a roll to your eyes, you pull away from him and sit on the sink tile.

mingyu doesn't need to be told twice when you spread your legs, inviting him. he kneels on the floor and bunches up your skirt to your waist. his hands rest on the side of your thighs, squeezing the flesh.

a curse falls from his lips, observing the wet patch on your panty. you sigh and relax as he kisses your cunt through the cotton material. carding your finger through his hair, you tug on it, promptly receiving a groan from him.

he removes the cloth, and you shiver as the cold air licks your sensitive skin. he pockets the panty and quickly nestles himself between your legs again.

he leans forward, wrapping your clit between his soft lips. he sucks on the bundle of nerves, tongue flicking at the bud softly. then, he lays his tongue flat against your cunt, licking up your arousal. he hums, savoring the taste of you in his mouth.

you try your best to control all the filthy noises you want to let out. just the sound of mingyu's mouth on your cunt is enough to drive you insane and breathless. wet noises fill the restroom, along with your muffled moans and sighs.

he slurps and sucks on your hole, tongue prodding inside now and then. his soft lips molds with your pussy, and his hair tickles your inner thigh. he whines against your cunt, whispering praises in between.

you close your legs around his head and tangle your fingers with his locks, pushing him further. his nose brushing against your clit sends shivers down your spine, and you struggle to contain your moans. your hips buck up into his face, and you lock your legs around his face.

he doesn't stop despite the lack of oxygen. he slurps and sucks on your hole like a starved man. you can imagine his boner pressing against the fabric of his boxers and slacks. his twitching cock, leaking with precum, is painfully restricted, but mingyu doesn't do anything about it. he neglects himself to please you.

and he doesn't even mind being denied orgasms. as much as you'd like to ruin him tonight, you won't. payback for flirting with all those girls right in front of you. (you know he intended to make you jealous… and well, two can play the game.)

you gasp for breath as the warmth pools in your stomach. mingyu senses the shift in your breathing and laps his tongue on your cunt faster. an unbridled moan escapes your lips as he pushes you off your edge.

you cum on his tongue, still holding his head in place with your thighs. your legs tremble as you loosen your lock around him. he pulls back, gasping for breath and looking dazed.

you think he looks prettier like this, kneeling between your thighs with sweat glistening on his face and lips coated with your arousal. a little out of breath and his eyes practically begging you to fuck him.

but you won't.

your breathing turns even after a few minutes, and you slip off the sink. mingyu follows you and stands up from the floor. you fix your dress and makeup while mingyu watches, dumbfoundedly.

his cock presses painfully against his slacks. you're tempted to take him into your mouth, but you resist it. you don't even offer him a glance as you refix your makeup.

mingyu doesn't protest. he stands with a painful erection, watching you get dolled up again. he doesn't try to touch himself and get you to touch him. he waits. though his eyes scream a different story, he contains himself.

you cast him a smile when you're done, and he mirrors it. he leans down, slotting his lips against yours, and whispers a praise. he melts into the kiss. into you. though he's the taller, bigger one, you never fail to make him feel so small. not in a bad way. in a good way. in this way, mingyu isn't afraid to be himself with you.

yes, even as you are actively denying him any sort of pleasure.

you strut away from him, towards the party. and he follows suit, happily (and with a painful boner). he trembles with excitement, knowing what's about to unfold when you both reach home.

#mingyu smut #svthub #svt smut #seventeen smut #kim mingyu #seventeen #mingyu drabbles #mingyu hard hours

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peachesofteal · 9 months

Text

Simple Math / Part 5

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.5k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI, no smut but this fic contains mature themes. Stalking. Brief mention of domestic violence. Feelings of fear, self loathing, and anxiety. Vomiting. Panic attack/comfort. Medical inaccuracies, hospital setting. A little bit of praise. Johnny is a flirt and a menace.

“Ye’re off yer head.”

“I’m not.” Johnny expects Simon to relent, to give it up, but when he doesn’t budge, something hot sizzles alive in the pit of Johnny’s stomach, desire roaring to life in his veins.

“Jus’ like that? Ye’re goin’ let me see yer bonnie face finally?” He slurs, lifting the bottle to his lips, and Simon nods.

“Only if you win."

“And if ye win?” Simon moves closer, his chest brushing against Johnny’s, balaclava covered face dipping down, noses nudging against one another’s in a tentative, teasing way.

“If I win, you’ll remove something of my choosing instead.”

Your phone is ringing.

In your sleep, you hardly recognize it, but your subconscious is well trained, and your hand seeks the source of the noise effortlessly, dragging it from the nightstand and next to your face, to squint blearily at it, awareness coming quickly when you recognize the charge nurse’s work line.

“Hello?” You clear the cobwebs of sleep from your throat.

“Hey, sorry to wake you.”

“No, ‘s alright. What’s going on?”

“I know it’s your day off, but-“

“You’re short.” You fill in the blanks, and she huffs.

“We’ve got two out with flu like symptoms, and I’m floating another to-“

“It’s okay.” You swing your feet over the edge of the bed, rubbing your eyes. “I got you. Just give me like, an hour? I have to get ready and stuff.”

“Of course. Thanks so much, you’re a lifesaver.” You zone out for a moment, plotting out the rest of your day, and mumble something like ‘don’t worry about it’, ending the call with your thumb.

The hotel carpet is plush. It’s cushioned and soft, and it gives a little when you stand and stretch, pulling your arms over your head, twisting and turning with tired bones, shaking loose the stupor that holds your neck too straight, too tightly.

OT isn’t the worst thing in the world right now, considering you’re paying for a long term stay in a hotel, you tell yourself more than a few times as you shower and dress. You should be grateful for it. Understaffing has it’s benefits, financially.

The only wrench about coming in on your day off this week is you’re supposed to be collecting more things from your flat. Particularly, clothing. You’ve only got a short rotation of outfits, scrubs, both in short supply, and… no clean underwear. You had planned to move large chunks of your wardrobe over today, probably at least two trips worth, but will now have to settle for stopping by fairly quick to grab what you can.

It will be fine, you think, casually checking your surroundings as you step off the platform. In and out and on with your day.

You were wrong.

You see it immediately, stepping through the door. The locks are in place, handle, deadbolt, extra one at the top, but you can tell, you can feel, that someone has been in here. Your blood thickens in your veins, freezing to a stop, sluggishly propelled by your frenzied heart. You can hear it in your ears, the thunder of your panic, can feel the fear twisting itself into a sailor’s knot and holding you hostage.

Your feeling is confirmed, rationalized, when you push your bedroom door ajar and see the carnage of what’s been left behind on top of your bed.

Shredded panties.

The entire underwear drawer has been spilled out across your sheets, lace and cotton and silk all ripped to pieces, torn edges clearly made by hands, not knives, not scissors, but the personal touch of fingers, of fists.

Your breath catches in your chest, oxygen in the room falling away, leaving you panting, gasping for your next inhale as you cautiously pick up a pair close to you. They’re grey cotton boy shorts, and your stomach flips up into your throat when they stand as stiff as a board, some sort of dried substance splattered across them, rendering the fabric firm and inflexible.

Not… not just some dried substance… you realize in horror, scanning the pile of panties, noticing the stains on most of them, a milky white color shining against black silk.

You can’t breathe. You stumble away, back slamming into your dresser, sinking down onto the floor, hands covering your ears.

This can’t be happening. This can’t be real.

This is sick, even for him. An escalation of disturbing behavior that sends a chill down your spine, frightening you even more than you already were. You knew he’d get in, hoped he would buy your carefully crafted lie: the appearance of you still living there… but to act so brazenly, to do something like… this.

Does he know, does he realize, you’re not actually living in the flat now?

He’s really going to kill you this time.

You race to the toilet, heaving yourself over the seat as your breakfast rushes past your lips, a cup of coffee and half eaten muffin accentuated by the sting of bile, and you gag, spitting and hacking until you’re finished, flushing it all away.

You don’t look at the girl in the mirror. You don’t want to see her. Don’t want to tell her all the ways you’re letting her down. She thinks you’re smarter than this, stronger. Braver. She believes you’ve done it once before, you’ve escaped, you’ve hid, and you can do it again.

She doesn’t know you’re not sure you have the heart for it now. She doesn’t realize you’re tired, you’re afraid. She doesn’t understand that you like the life you’ve made, that running is exhausting, that sometimes, in the very darkest corners of your mind, you think that letting him win might be easiest.

So, you don’t look at her. You mourn your pile of panties for a too long second and lock the apartment up tight.

Get it together. Get yourself together.

You coach yourself the entire way to work, trying to ignore the rubbing and bunching of your scrub pants, an unfortunate consequence of being forced to go commando.

Deep breath. You can do this.

You still have your sanctuary.

You had hoped, for a miniscule moment, that your day might improve once you step foot in the hospital, and you pushed away the inkling that suggested that optimism may be linked the fact that you’ll get to see Simon and Johnny, opting not to even acknowledge the strange sensations swirling about inside your heart whenever you think about the other day. The day when the world stood still and Johnny touched your hand so gently, stroking his fingers over your skin, or when the elevator doors parted to reveal Simon and their baby, a sweet baby girl safe in his arms, his eyes alight and adoring, your knees almost giving out at the sight.

Needless to say, you’re eager to badge in.

The day is quickly derailed, when within a half an hour of getting settled into your routine, an alarm goes off for two sixty-eight: thirty-nine degrees.

Your mind immediately somersaults to the pain in his upper right quadrant from your last shift, logical thought leaping all around as you jog down the hall.

You notated it. You passed it on in shift report. It’s only thirty-nine. You did everything right. No one here would just disregard something like that. Deep breath.

Still…

Bile leak. Abscess. Infection. Or worse… hepatic artery pseudoaneurysm, hemorrhaging. Big things that could lead to worse things, worse outcomes, worse-

The door comes up quicker than you realize, and without hesitating, you slip inside.

“Hi.” You’re a little breathless, and Simon’s eyes snap to yours, taking you in, studying from head to toe, brow knitted together. Johnny’s asleep, and you’re not sure if that makes you feel better, or worse.

“Everything alright?” Of course. He’s too perceptive. Get control of yourself, it could be nothing.

“Yeah, I ah… have to draw some blood.” You really do not want to wake your patient, or alarm Simon, but you refuse to lie. You fire off a text to the attending on call, advising him of Johnny’s temperature and reminding him of the upper right quadrant pain, letting him know he can expect labs as soon as you get them downstairs. You give Simon a nod, turning to slide the draw open quietly, pulling out everything you’ll need. His gaze burns a hole in your scrubs, the ever-present scrutiny impossible to escape, and sometimes you wonder if he’s reading your mind.

“What’s wrong? He just fell asleep, Pen was here all morning, tired him out.” His protest is husky, and you think he’s frowning behind the mask. You imagine a strong mouth pulled downwards in consternation; wide jaw gnashed tight with worry.

“He’s running just a bit of a fever.” He jolts, and you shake your head, hoping to soothe his fear. “It’s not too high. I’m not super worried, but we’ll need to check his white cell count, just in case, okay? And then we’ll go from there.” He nods.

“You said this could happen.” You smile. It feels unsteady, but you hope he can’t tell.

“I did. I promised, that if there was something to panic about, I would tell you. We’re not there yet.” It’s not a lie. Your wild spiral from a few minutes ago was an extreme, not reality, and you need to keep your head on.

“Okay.”

“Right. So, just going to do a quick blood draw and get it downstairs so we can find out what’s going on.” Simon shifts uncomfortably, and you carefully squeeze Johnny's arm, wrapping him with the tie and swabbing the inside of his elbow as fast as possible.

He blinks, eyes opening slowly, confused brow smoothing when he realizes you’re leaning over him, and his gaze darts to Simon before landing back on you. “There’s our bunny.” He mumbles softly, and your face heats, eyes widening in surprise before you regulate your reaction, and Simon coughs. Loudly. Bunny?

“Such a flirt, MacTavish.” You playfully chastise him, relieved he’s feeling like himself. “I just need to get some blood and then I’ll leave you in peace to sleep.” He shrugs, but Simon rubs a thumb against his thigh in tiny little circles, too fast to be considered comfort, and Johnny clucks. “Ah, come on Si.”

“You’re runnin’ a fever, Johnny.”

“Ach. ‘s nothing.” He brushes it off, but his eyes are slow to track Simon’s movements, and you casually sneak a peek at the monitor, noting his blood pressure.

“Could be.” You assure him, smoothing a hand over his shoulder and taping a small patch of gauze over the puncture. “But better safe than sorry, right?”

The labs are inconclusive. The attending hems and haws before finally asking you to schedule a stat ultrasound of his abdomen, and you manage to bump him to the front of the queue, pulling a few strings here and there by rattling off some bullshit about being higher priority.

In the time it takes for the tech to get to two sixty-eight with the machine, you get a new admission. Intubated, but awake, and getting them and their family squared away takes longer than you would have liked, the patient’s middle-aged husband a wreck of nerves and worry, the kind of anxiety that makes you sit with him in the room for a little while, patting his hand and promising that you’ll be there for them, every step of the way.

By the time you step out of that room, it’s been nearly an hour. You catch a glimpse of Simon in the chairs outside two sixty-eight, and you throw him one of your best work smiles, hoping to reassure him, soothe his nerves. You want to go to him, want to sit beside him and talk him through everything, the outcomes, the possibilities, but you still need to add the notes for your new admit, and-

Someone catches your eye from the end of the hall. It’s a man, white, with brown hair, in regular clothes, and he stands taller than the others around him, shoulders rolled back just- just like-

No. You force yourself to look, to truly see him, taking in his facial features, the slope of his nose, and it’s hardly a second before you’re realizing it’s not who you thought it was. It’s not him.

The second doesn’t matter to your heart. It’s already racing, tripling it’s steady pace inside your chest. You’re shaking, trembling in the middle of the hall, frantically looking for the nearest closet, or empty room, or…

Stairwell. There’s a stairwell just beyond where Simon is anxiously waiting, and you beeline to it, nearly tripping over your own feet past him. You think you hear your name being called, but the blood rushing in your ears is too loud, and you can’t be sure. Either way, it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters right now is getting away. Hiding. Not letting yourself be noticed.

You take the first flight down, stopping on the landing to rest your face against the polished, cold wall, desperately trying to fill your lungs with air, encouraging yourself to breathe.

It wasn’t him. You’re safe.

Deep breath. You can do this.

Your fingers dig into your hips, squeezing through the numbness, through the overwhelming feeling of your impending doom, and your head swims, lightheadedness nearly knocking you off balance.

“It wasn’t him.” You whisper aloud. “It’s not him. You’re safe. Get it together.” You chant, eyes clenched tight. Your heart is still pounding, no sign of relenting, and your lungs burn, screaming inside you, desperate for air. The feeling of suffocating, of dying, grows stronger, gaining momentum, and your eyes slam shut, your mind and body locked in a tomb of panic and fear.

You hear your name again. It’s sharper, authoritative, but you can’t open your eyes, too overwhelmed to even make sense of it. Deep breath, just breathe.

Something touches your shoulder. It’s unexpected, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you register it as gentle, but you’re too far gone, too far buried beneath your fear and your panic and your shame. It triggers you into a defensive posture, and you flinch so hard you jostle yourself into the wall, turning into the corner, hands out in front of your face.

“Hey, hey.” It’s Simon. Simon is standing in the stairwell with you, palms open, concern heavy in his eyes, and you vaguely realize he’s talking, soft, deep words washing over you. “-to breathe?” He comes closer, only half a step, but it’s enough to startle you back into the corner, and he stops short. “It’s alright. I’m not going to touch you.” He soothes, and you recognize the pitch, the calm, affectionate tone from Johnny’s bedside. Sour nausea surges in your stomach, and your lungs fight the invisible hand that tightens around them. “Can you take a deep breath?” You shake your head, and he huffs a soft chuckle. “You can do it, just try. Through your nose, like this.” His chest expands, eye contact never breaking, and you try to follow suit, getting halfway before your head spins, vision tunneling. “You’re alright.”

You’re not alright. None of this is alright. You’re having a panic attack, in the stairwell at your job, in front of a patient’s partner.

You can’t speak, so you shake your head instead. No.

“Yes, you are.” He assures. “Everything’s okay. Focus on your breathing. Try another one for me.” His hand covers his heart, and you focus on the way it ebbs and flows with the movement of his diaphragm, the pace of his breaths.

You manage to get one full inhale and exhale. And then you get another. Then a third, a fourth, until it’s coming easier, and your head doesn’t feel as fuzzy.

“Good job, that’s it.” Your fingers twist together, the grating noise of your jagged breathing smoothing out even more, and Simon nods encouragingly. “You’re doing great, sweetheart. Nice and slow.” Sweetheart. The word is bright, boundless and sweet as honey, the sentiment settling in your belly and growing warm. The two of you stand there, just breathing, staring at one another, for what feels like an eternity, until you find the strength to summon words.

“I-I’m sorry.” You finally choke once you’ve got a better handle on yourself, hands going lax at your thighs.

“Nothin’ to be sorry about.” You’re about to brush it off, thorny lies starting to form in your mind, excuses and carefully crafted explanations fusing together when your work phone beeps, the low frequency different from the ones related to patient care. Shit. Already? Simon’s glances at it in your pocket and cocks his head.

“End of my shift.” You explain, moving towards the stairs, your hand trembling on the button to silence the alarm. The muscles in his neck flex, molars grinding together.

“Still feeling a little shaky?” He observes, and you look down to your feet, mortification crawling up your spine, blooming across your cheeks through heated blood vessels.

“Um…”

“Would you mind, maybe sitting with Johnny for a bit?” You do still have notes to do. “If his test is done? I have to run home, help the Prices' put Penny down. She’s been a bit fickle, lately. Missin’ her Da.” He rubs the back of his neck, chest flexing inside the charcoal grey hoodie, and for a weird, too long second, you wonder what it might be like to fall asleep there, or just close your eyes for a minute, even though it's something sweet and far away, unobtainable in every facet. Simon says your name, jogging your attention, and then takes the first step, partially turning like he wants to reach for you, but thinks better of it.

“Uh. Yeah, I… I can.”

You badge out and grab your stuff, keeping your tablet so you can complete your notes while you sit with Johnny. You’ve already checked his results, and when you slip inside the room, the attending is updating them, explaining how he has a very small bile leak, and will need an endoscopic procedure tomorrow morning.

The attending excuses himself, giving you a quick nod, and then Simon leans down, knocking their foreheads together tenderly.

“Keep an eye on him, I hear he likes to make trouble.” Johnny smiles, pink-red color creeping up his neck into his cheeks, and Simon seems like he’s smiling, before he turns serious. “Behave. I won’t be too long.”

“I always behave.” He pats the side of the bed, beckoning you, and you shake your head, plopping down in the recliner to his right.

“I hear ye’re keepin’ me company, pretty girl?”

“I am. Got some notes to finish, heard this chair was pretty comfortable.” You quip back easily, and it feels natural, to be joking and laughing, to be hiding again.

“Well, I’ll try not to distract ye then.”

Your tablet clicks dark with a satisfying shutter, and when you place it face down, Johnny gives you one of his stupidly handsome smiles. “All finished?”

“Yeah, not too bad.” His phone vibrates against the tabletop, and with his good hand, he opens the message, turning it to show you the screen. It’s a picture of Penny, half asleep against Simon, clad in a pink onesie covered in little ducks. Her cheek is squished against him, long baby lashes fluttering on her skin. “She’s so cute.” You say, and he nods, flushed with pride. You glance at the contact name, Lou, and before you can stop yourself, a question bursts out: “Who’s Lou?”

“Our captain’s wife. She’s been helpin’ a lot, with Pen. Which is great, they’re getting a lot of girl time.”

“Your captain?”

“Aye.”

“Is that…” you want to ask but trail off. You don’t want to admit that you’ve heard gossip about them.

“Military. Simon an’ I work together, in a task force.” A task force. A task force sounds eerily close to special ops, and your nausea comes back with a vengeance.

“What… what kind of task force?”

“Global ops. Anti-terrorism, domestic threats, the lot. How I ended up here, with ye.” The image of your ex looms, his body tense in his gear, or the memory of his boots, sitting shiny by the door, one of them pulling back, swinging towards your stomach. “Bun?” Bun?

“Huh?” you blink. “Oh, sorry. Spaced out there for a second.”

“That’s alright. Simon said ye had a bit of a scare earlier?”

“No I uh, just couldn’t catch my breath, but I was fine. It was fine.” You deflect, moving on as quick as you can manage. “Did you call me bun? And… didn’t you call me bunny, earlier?” He gives you a sheepish look.

“Aye. Is our nickname for ye.”

“Wait, what? Why?”

“Well… ye look a bit like a bunny, and ye had that sticker the other day that Penny noticed.” Your face heats. “I know ye’re probably real soft like a bun, too.” Real soft? Is he… does he mean- your eyes widen, and he smirks.

“Johnny.” You flounder, helplessly, confused by his attention, this flirtation that seems to have grown into real affection, and he shifts slightly, leaning forward, reaching for your hand.

“Ye dinnae need to be afraid.” He coos. The words are a moon above a tide, pulling and reaching, dragging the swell of the waves higher and higher, until they threaten to pull you under, overwhelm you and drown you.

“I…” I don’t understand? I thought you were gay? I don’t know what is happening here? Johnny grimaces, and you immediately forget about the conversation and leap into action, jumping to your feet. “What is it? Where’s your pain?” Your hands hover over his belly, and he points to where his liver currently sits, slowly leaking inside his body, spilling bile that could eventually kill him if it hadn’t been caught. You pull down the blanket, unsnapping his gown to push it aside, checking for anything physically observable, site swelling, a rash, anything. “Does this hurt?” You cautiously press down, tapping slightly, watching his face for a reaction.

“No.” he says, and when you reach over to his other side, turning to watch his facial expressions, he moves with you, barely leaning, chin pointed in your direction.

His face is suddenly incredibly close to your face. And he looks… so handsome. So pretty, with his bright blue eyes and perfect bones, soft lips that part with an inhale. He dazzles you. Distracts you.

This is your patient, get it together. You’re a professional, act like it.

“Does that hurt?” You croak, and his lips quirk into a half smile, a warm palm gliding over the small of your back.

“It doesnae hurt, bun.” He winks.

“Oh my god, were you faking?” You try to stand up, but the pressure on your spine is firm, and he chuckles.

“Can I tell ye a secret?” He’s fully serious now, question whispered just above your ear, and you nod.

“Of course.”

“Ye’v been drivin’ me mad today, pretty girl. Walkin’ around here wit’ no panties on.” Oh. Oh… my god. You shoot upwards, hand covering your mouth in shock, and he laughs, raising an eyebrow before his gaze drifts over the curve of your hip.

“Johnny!” you hiss, scandalized, and then guilt hits you like a train, like two tons of rocks have been dropped on top of you. Simon. “Johnny, you… you and Simon, you’re-“

“We’re lucky ye’ve come into our lives.” He finishes, and you frown, confused. “We think ye’re really special.” We. We?

“What did I miss?” Simon says from the doorway, and you jerk, stepping back like Johnny’s bed is on fire and you’ve just been burnt, eyes wide and wild. You feel like a child, caught with a hand in the cookie jar, but Simon doesn’t look angry. Just curious.

“Jus’ talking.” Johnny replies, and he starts to lower his bed, watching you with heavy eyes.

“Well. I should get going. I’ve got a few trains to make.” You glance at the clock, and then give them both a polite smile. Simon crosses his arms.

“Looks like you tired him out.” He comments, and they glance at one another, some sort of communication happening silently before he shrugs. “Let me drive you.”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t. It’s not… you just got back, and I’m fine, really. It’s not that far, I-“

“If it’s not that far, let him drive ye.” Johnny pipes up, and Simon piles on easily.

"He's not going to let this go, and neither am I. Let me get you home safely, please." You shouldn't. You really, really shouldn't. "It's the least we can do." Your shoulders slump in defeat. It’s just a ride. It’s not crossing a line.

“Okay, then.” Johnny smiles, and Simon moves to his side, brushing his mask covered mouth against his forehead.

“She go down okay?” Johnny murmurs, tenderly cupping his cheek.

“Like a champ. Promised I’d bring her tomorrow morning. Think she understood me.”

“Aye. She’s smarter than ye, so probably.” He teases, and they share a lighthearted laugh before Johnny’s bidding you a goodbye, and Simon directs you out the door.

“Uh, right here is fine.” You point to the curb, and Simon slows the car to a stop, turning to face you with that ever-present scrutiny, brows shoved down above his eyes.

“A hotel?” You swallow.

“My um, my flat is being renovated. It’s a whole thing so I just figured I wo-would stay somewhere else.” You want to flee, run out of this car and away from him, but he holds you in place so easily with just his eyes, so you sit there, frozen, one hand on the door handle, the other splayed against your thigh.

“Is everything alright? Earlier-“

“I’m fine.” You rush out, cutting him off. It’s well practiced, the denial, the avoidance, these things that you normally excel out.

But nothing is normal with them.

He cocks his head, and then nods, and you breathe a little easier, turning to push the door open.

“Wait.” A hand tugs at you, thick, warm fingers lightly touching your wrist, and you whip back around to face him, eyes wide. “If you ever need anything, Johnny and I… we’re here.” Why is your heart beating so fast?

“Oh, I uh… I’m fine, I don’t need-“

“That doesn’t work on me. Johnny either, pretty girl.” He tells you, and it’s so firm, so strong backed, that your mouth goes dry, and you gape at him. What? What doesn’t work? Is he… is he saying he doesn’t buy it? Doesn’t believe you? He’s reading your mind, subtly raising an eyebrow, and then nodding. “Put my number in your phone.” He instructs, and like a robot, like a vampire’s Thrall, you pull it from your bag, swiping open the contact list and pressing each number in the order he gives it. “We’ll see you tomorrow?” He asks once you’re finished, and you mumble a shaky yes, finally pushing the door open, and climbing out.

“Alright, well. Good night.” You bend at the waist, giving him a wave through the window, and his jaw moves beneath the mask, shifting to the side, eyes squinting at the corners. He's smiling.

“Good night, bunny.”

#peaches writes #simple math #ghost x reader x soap #ghost x soap x reader #john soap mactavish #simon riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #ghoap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soap x reader #soap x ghost

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dcandmarvelimagines · 27 days

Text

sweeter than you ever knew. (pt. 2)

Series: pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5 Pairing: Wade Wilson x Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4.2k Warnings: AFAB reader (uses she/her pronouns), 1st person POV, non-mutant Reader, Oral sex (f! recieving), vaginal fingering, overstimulation, Wade breaks his nose so a bit of blood, Wade is an absolute pervert Logan is too, voyeurism, Logan puts his cigar out on his hand, Logan is also very emotionally stunted but we'll work on that Author's note: Holy shit guys?? This blew up in a way I totally didn't expect. I seriously thought this would just be something I uploaded and would get like five notes. You guys have been so sweet! Thank you so much! I hope you like this next installment. Things take a bit of a turn at the end and in the next chapter, but fear not besties, we will make it out of this and to a happy ending I swear! ao3 Tags (if you would like to be included or removed, just let me know): @fallout-girl219 @xolosimp @o0aligoth0o

Early that Monday, I met with my supervisor. When I explained that I was becoming attached to Al’s roommates and it would most likely affect my working relationship, he just sighed. Apparently, Al had requested that I’m her only caretaker and said she would refuse anyone else. “So keep your head on straight around them. Don’t make me regret it.”

When I walked into the apartment later that day, I knew Wade would make me fail. He instantly wrapped me in his arms, covering my face in slobbery kisses. But I was able to keep him at arm's length while I was on the clock for Al. He was allowed one kiss when I got there and nothing else. Despite his protests, he respected my boundaries. With Wade forced to behave, it allowed me to start talking to Logan more. There was some sort of tension between us that had eased. The crease between his eyebrows whenever he saw me had slowly faded. I saw him smile more often. He was surprisingly nice to be around once I got past his gruff exterior. I kept myself an open book, answering any questions he had, but he kept his life close to his chest. I didn’t expect him to spill his guts and I accepted the little crumbs he gave me. But sometimes he was broody and quiet, keeping his responses short, a distant look in his eyes.

Nevertheless, it began to grow into something more. It started off small, little touches to the back, him forcing me to sit when I had been rearranging Al’s furniture. Then it was a gift of delicious chocolate when they came back from France and a home cooked meal when I was too busy to make it myself. I found his eyes tracing my body more often, lingering in certain places. He sometimes stood just a little too close to me while I did the dishes. He wore a shirt less often and I greedily drank in his body when I could. None of this escaped Wade’s notice. I knew he was scheming.

It was a crisp autumn night when I climbed out on the fire escape to settle next to Logan. The cigar smoke was a comfort now, earthy and sweet. We sat in silence for a few moments. Sometimes that was enough for me, just to be in his presence, but not tonight. I shoved my chilly hands deep into the pockets of my jacket. I titled my head, watching his cheeks hollow around the cigar, the ash skittering across his forearm. He didn’t so much as flinch as the hot ash touched him. “Could I try?” I had tried smoking before but had just ended up coughing for a minute straight. He shook his head, watching a bike roll by.

“Last thing you need is lung cancer.” I tentatively laid my head on his shoulder. He would still sometimes jerk away like I had burned him. This time, he allowed me to sink closer, our thighs pressed against each other. I could feel the heat of him sinking through my clothes.

“Mm, it smells good though.” He takes a long drag, letting the smoke linger in his lungs before letting it out in a puff. A long moment of silence passes. We’ve been slowly circling each other for weeks, all lingering touches and heavy glances. How would he react if I finally did something? Pull away? I knew he and Wade still slept together, Al complained about it enough that I couldn’t escape it. Wade and I hadn’t really gone beyond our kisses. Despite what he called himself on my phone, I didn’t want this to be a friends with benefits situation. He seemed to know that and hadn’t pushed for more. Wade made it very clear to the both of us that he has no qualms about sharing. If anything, I think he wants Logan and I to have sex more than he wants to have sex with me.

Steeling my resolve, I rest my chin on his shoulder. “Can I try a taste?” Logan glanced down at me, that crease reappearing between his eyebrows.

“What?” His voice is dry, a touch on edge. I wanted to apologize for my flirting and run but I can’t allow myself to. My fingers trace the corner of his lip, the edge of his jaw. He turned just an inch closer to me and I’m able to take in his lined and handsome face.

“Just one taste?” It comes out breathy, barely audible. But he hears it, he always does. There’s the faintest tick at the corner of his lips like he was going to smile. “I promise to be gentle,” now that got a smirk out of him.

“You don’t scare me sweetheart,” his voice was a low rumble.

“Then why haven’t you kissed me yet?” He pressed the still burning cigar onto his palm. The smell of burning flesh floated up to me and my nose twitched at it. “Why would you-“ but the words are cut off as his unburned palm cupped the back of my neck and dragged me closer, our lips pressing together. The kiss is chaste. My eyes fall shut, a surprised gasp leaving me. His beard scratches lightly at my face as we move our heads. But then he nudges my nose, tilting his head back. “No, please,” I whispered, chasing his lips. I felt his sigh ghost across my face before he cupped both cheeks and drew me back against his mouth. I moan against him, clutching at the front of his sweatshirt, wanting him closer, craving it. Then his lips are moving against mine. My hands slide into his hair and give the strands a tug. His mouth parts on a growl and I take the opportunity to lick my way in. I can taste the tang of whiskey, the sweetness of the cigar, a hint of mint. I want to crush myself against him, to feel his body against mine, to explore his skin.

Just as I’m reaching under his sweatshirt, hungry for the feel of the torso that’s been haunting me, he withdraws. His breath still coasts across my face and my nose was full of the scent of him. My breath was ragged while his was perfectly even. Embarrassing. My eyes are slow to open. I found him only a few inches away, a smug expression on his handsome face.

“There,” he whispers, “got your taste.”

“Asshole.” Now he smiles, perfect teeth glinting in the streetlight.

“Yeah, get that in your pretty head now.” His calloused fingers tapped at my temple. “I’m not someone to get attached to.”

“Well she’s sticking around me and I’m about as much boyfriend material as sandpaper.” I jumped nearly out of my skin at the sound of Wade’s voice. Logan just smirked and circled his hands around my wrists, squeezed once to make me let go of his sweatshirt. I had half a mind to refuse, crawl into his lap and kiss every inch of skin I could find. But I let my hands fall weakly to my lap. “When you two fuck, can you record it? I’ve tried finding look-alikes on pornhub, but it’s just not the same.” I huffed, glancing down at where Wade’s head was, a spark of annoyance at him interrupting Logan and I. He’s half laying on the metal grate, his legs dangling off the couch beneath the window.

“Ain’t gonna happen dickwad.” I can hear Logan’s lighter flicking before the smell of the cigar is back. I hoped he had just meant recording and that gruff tone wasn’t for the idea of us having sex. But he let me remain close so I took that as a good sign.

“Don’t listen to him, baby bunny. Look, he literally tried killing me and we ended up fucking in the end.”

“Was still trying to kill you,” Logan growls. Wade gasps dramatically, clutching his chest like Logan actually succeeded.

“Don’t lie peanut! What’s more romantic than stabbing me in the neck? That Honda Odyssey was shaking all night.”

“I hope that’s not how you plan on being romantic with me,” I laughed, reaching down to tug at Wade’s cheek. “I can’t snap back like you two.”

“Of course not darling,” he covered my hand in sloppy kisses, sucking a hickey on my wrist. “I’ll let you stab me in the neck while you fuck me. Would never want to hurt that sexy face.”

“Ugh, get a room you two,” Logan snapped, nudging my knee with his. I glanced back at him but found his face reserved again. As much as I wanted to linger and force my time on Logan, I knew he wouldn’t appreciate it.

“We should take Mary Puppins out, yeah?” Wade nodded, wiggling free of his awkward position. The decrepit dog came bounding around the corner. She wiggled her naked butt as Wade grabbed her leash. I looked back at Logan. He was determinately ignoring me, eyes locked onto the dark apartment across the way. “I’ll probably head home once that’s done.” He nodded and brought the cigar back to his lips. “Why did you put it out on your hand?”

“Didn’t want to drop it on you. It’s a nasty burn.” There was something fleeting and tender that passed over his averted face. A little smile spread across my face.

“Thank you, you’re my hero.” I pressed a kiss to his stubbly cheek, lingering just a beat too long, before I pulled away. “Goodnight Logan.” I didn’t wait for his reply, if he even intended to give one.

Wade was happy with the progress me and Logan had made.

But it wasn’t fast enough.

Which is how I found myself locked in their shared cramped bathroom, Wade’s head buried between my legs, while two of his fingers plunged inside me. My legs were shaking, my heel pressed against his shoulder to spread me open more. “Wade,” I whimpered as tears pricked my eyes. He had already drawn one orgasm from me with his rough and agile fingers before he dropped to his knees. “I c-can’t.”

“I know you can honey bun.” His breath was hot against my tender skin and I gasped. “Just one more for me, yeah?” I nodded, hips grinding against him. “There you go. You’re close again aren’t you?” I nodded again, eyes rolling back. He kitten licked across my overly sensitive clit. I knew I was making a mess of his face but he seemed to revel in it. He left a trail of sticky kisses along my bruised and bitten thigh. “Do you hear yourself? Got that WAP.” I smacked his head before pushing him deeper to keep him from running his mouth more. He latched back onto my clit, sucking harshly, and a third finger wedged into me. My back arched and I had to bite my lip hard to stay quiet. My eyes fell closed. His spare hand moved from my hip where it had been holding me.

The sudden sound of the door opening made me freeze. Al had laid down for a nap which was the only reason I allowed Wade to drag me in here. But instead I found Logan framed in the doorway. He had the look of a deer in headlights. “Now peanut,” Wade cooed, his head laid against my thigh. to look at the other man. He didn’t stop fingering me, the squelching sounds suddenly too loud. “Don’t you know it’s rude to eavesdrop.”

“I wasn’t, you two are too fucking loud.” Logan’s nostrils were flared, heaving chest straining against his thin tank top.

“Uh huh,” Wade teased, his tongue swirling around my clit. My hand clamped over my mouth as a sob caught in my chest. “That massive tent in your pants has nothing to do with you hovering.” Logan growled, palming at himself, seemingly angry at his body. “Come on handsome, look at her.” Wade pushed my thighs farther apart, his free hand spreading me.

“Oh god,” I mumbled, embarrassment making me cover my face. I couldn’t hear Logan’s steps, he was always so light on his feet, but I could feel him examining me. The hairs at the back of my neck stood on end.

“Don’t hide from us gorgeous,” Wade chides. “Logan Ioves to watch orgasm faces. I can feel you fluttering, I know you're close.” When I don’t remove my hands, Wade sighs, the exhale of air making my hips jerk. “Come on, you can be brave for us.” I take a shaky breath and remove my hands, curling them around the edge of the counter. Wade smiled while Logan’s dialated eyes were glued to my pussy. I watched his Adam's apple bob and he shifted from one foot to the other. “Good job,” he kissed my clit, popping obscenely. “Now make a mess on my face.”

He dove back between my legs. With Logan there, Wade seemed determined to force me to come as hard and as fast as he could. His fingers drove into me with firm thrusts, tongue flicking cruelly at my clit. My leg was trembling so much it slipped from Wade’s shoulder, only to be caught by Logan. I struggled to focus on him, my vision blurry from prickling tears of overstimulation. His calloused palm traced up my ankle and calf before notching behind my knee. With my pussy covered by Wade’s head, Logan could only look at my face. I wanted him closer, to feel his mouth against mine again, that scrape of his beard. His eyes fastened to my neck, watching my erratic pulse.

“Logan,” my voice tilts up at the end, hands reaching for him. Before I was able to even breathe, just as the orgasm was rushing through me, Logan’s lips crashed against mine. I clung to him, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and locking both of my shuddering legs around his waist, moaning wildly into his mouth. Wade groaned as his head was pinned between our hips and the vibrations made me cry out. Logan was kissing me like a man starved, biting at my lips, grunting like he was the one coming. A combination of our spit collected at the corner of my mouth and he licked at it hungrily. His blunt nails dug into the tender skin behind my knees as he clutched me closer. Tears streaked down my cheeks as Wade kept working me into near painful overstimulation.

Logan separated first, his forehead pressed to mine. My breath was ragged, sweat collecting along my hairline. I wanted more, to lose myself between their touches, their bodies. Wade finally stilled, his fingers still buried deep. His mouth released me and I gasped as his harsh breaths coasted across me. “You okay down there?” My voice shook. I reached down and ran my nails across his scalp.

“Broke my nose, but it’s okay.” I bolted up straight and Logan stumbled back to avoid my head cracking against his. Blood and my slick was smeared across his face, staining his white teeth as he beamed up at me. The tip of his nose was bent at an odd angle.

“I’m so sorry,” I cupped his face, panic rushing through me. “Are you okay?”

“He’s fine,” Logan said. One of his big hands braced on Wade’s head before he grabbed the broken nose with two fingers. With a pop and a grunt from Wade, the nose slid back into place. “There,” he tapped Wade’s sticky face, “good as new.”

“You’re always so nice to me,” Wade grumbled, itching the rapidly healing bump. His drenched fingers slid from me, glistening in the harsh bathroom light. Logan glanced between Wade and I, one finger twirling in the drawstring of his black sweatpants. I wish I could read his mind, be able to tell his emotions from one glance, or a touch. I wanted to understand this unsure look on his face. He almost seemed nervous to be in here now that the haze of lust had passed. He swallowed thickly before he pressed a kiss to my cheek.

“See you tomorrow sweetheart.” My arms, which were about to latch around his neck to keep him close, hung limply in the air. I blinked as he walked away, disappearing into their dark bedroom. Wade shook his head as he stood and closed the bathroom door.

“Did I do something?” I whispered, knowing Logan would hear me anyway. Wade’s hands went to my thighs, kneading at the tight muscles, leaving behind wet handprints with his right one.

“No, he’s just a fucking idiot who doesn’t think he deserves happiness. I’ve been trying to ease him into this but he’s stubborn.” He turned his head, “and he’s stupid!” I heard their bedroom door snap shut. “He’s worried he’ll scare you off. Just give him time. He’s just…just had a lot happen to him.” I nodded. “Don’t take it personally, okay?”

“Okay,” I mumbled.

“Are you two done in there?!” A cane hit the door. “She needs to read me my mail!”

Never more in my life have I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. Only compounded by Wade wiping the door open, cocking his hip to glare at his roommate. I knew she was blind, that she had completely lost vision almost twenty years ago. But that didn’t stop me from stretching my shirt down to try and cover myself, crossing my legs. “I see Miss sleepy granny pants is awake. What do you need? A diaper change?” Al scoffed, her cane clicking along the floorboards of the hallway as she moved to the kitchen. Once she was out of our sight, Wade plucked my panties from the floor.

“Why?” He shrugged, an evil glint in his eyes.

“Maybe I need to get him used to your scent, like a dog.” I rolled my eyes but bit back a hiss as he dragged the coarse material through my wet folds. “Need a lot of it I think, yeah, nice and soaked.” I shoved his hand away and he tucked my panties into his pocket. Wade helped me off the counter, his hands braced on my waist to keep me steady. My jeans had been tossed carelessly to the side and I dreaded putting them back on without the barrier of my underwear. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you wear those pesky jeans, even if they do make your ass look so good I want to rip them off you every time you wear them.” He passed through the bathroom and into his and Logan’s room. I peeked around the edge of the door frame and nearly fainted at the sight.

Logan was splayed across their dark sheets, body bare, hard cock in his hand. While the room was dim, the beams of light from the hallway were able to reach in. The shadows played over his muscles and I watched as they flexed. I wasn’t able to see his cock well, both his hand and the poor lighting limited my vision. But I was able to see a long, thick vein along the underside. My face heated at the sight of him. “Knock, asshole,” his voice was husky. The sound of him made my toes curl. If I hadn’t just had a mind melting orgasm, I would have been striding into that room, ready to do anything he wanted me to. His stomach fluttered as his strokes became more rapid.

“Here,” Wade said as he tossed my drenched panties on Logan’s face. His hips jerked, knuckles flashing white around himself. Wade searched through a drawer before pulling something from inside. “Now be good and keep those right there for when I come back.” Logan growled, removing the fabric from his face but kept it clutched in his fist. Wade blew him a kiss and a wave before closing the door again. He offered me a pair of sweatpants. I tugged them on with a mumbled thank you, having to roll the waistband down multiple times so I wasn’t swimming in them. Wade pinched my chin and our eyes locked. “I’ll get him to warm up, promise.” I nodded. “Now go take care of Miss Migoo. Remember to text me when you get home.”

“Of course,” I stood on my toes to kiss his healed nose. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry babykins. If it makes you feel better, I was near suffocation. So a busted nose was the best case scenario.” He laughed at my horrified expression. “Hey, I’d much rather die from pussy smothering than my heart being ripped out.”

“You know, that doesn’t make me feel much better.” He smirked and drew me closer, his lips connecting with mine. I could taste the tang of me coating him. But I pulled back first. I needed to keep my head on straight for the last hour of my time with Al. “Keep it down with him, please? It’ll be too distracting.” His expression turned wicked.

“Trust me, I have a way I’ll shut him up.” His hands coasted down my hips, grabbing a handful of my ass. “I’ll send pictures of what happens to your cute little panties once we’re done with them.” My face flushed and I pressed my hands to his chest.

“God, you’re such a pervert.”

“Mhm, you like it though.”

“Will you two stop! My vision isn’t coming back anytime soon.” We reluctantly broke apart. Wade slipped into the bedroom. I was only able to catch a brief glimpse of Logan’s back arched, heels dug deep into the mattress, before my sight was cut off. I grabbed my discarded jeans and stuffed them into the tote bag I had brought with me. The last bit of my shift ended in mostly silence, minus the occasional creak of the bed frame from the guy’s bedroom. I helped Al sign a few checks, read through her mail, and took out Mary Puppins. I said my good night and left the apartment. My mind conjured up thoughts on what could be happening behind that closed door all the way home on the train. Wade, clad only in my stolen underwear, bouncing on Logan. My panties stuffed into Logan’s mouth as Wade pounds him from behind. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to stop my imagination from getting too wild. It wouldn’t help anything to get turned on now.

If my mind hadn’t been so filled with dirty thoughts, I would have noticed the man watching me from the other end of the train car.

I made it to my apartment. The key fob scanner was broken again. “Advanced security my ass,” I groaned, trudging up to my apartment. It was Friday and I felt like ordering something in. I knew I shouldn’t, the delivery fees were astronomical, but I just wanted to relax. After placing my pizza order, I grabbed a fresh pair of underwear and a shirt stolen from Logan by Wade, then gifted to me. It always felt illegal to wear it, but it was easily the softest shirt I had. His scent lingered on it and it always soothed me. I had around an hour before my pizza was going to arrive. I made a little nest for myself on the couch and tucked in to watch some mindless reality tv.

A knock woke me up. At first I was confused, rubbing at my eyes and looking around to locate the sound. Then my mind caught up. “Oh shit,” I mumbled, scrambling to the door as the poor delivery guy knocked again. “Sorry! Sorry!” I called. I unlocked the door and swung it open.

I froze.

A man, with no pizza box, stood before me. “Um, can I help you?” The man had ice chips for eyes, cold and lifeless. A tattoo peaked above his collar. He took me in, tracing each inch of me. I felt my skin break out in goosebumps at the cold calculation on his face. My arms curled over my chest, hiding it from him. “Can I help you?” My tone was stronger, a small snap to it. That horrible gaze found mine again. Then he said my full name. Fear oozed through me.

I heard something from my bedroom, a little thump, but was too terrified to look away from the man in front of me. “Get the fuck out of here,” but the words lacked conviction, a slight tremble to them. “I don’t know who you are. Leave or I’m calling the cops.”

“Why wouldn’t you call your boyfriends?” My heart stuttered in my chest.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.” I heard the creak of my floorboard. I cast a wild glance behind me and found a wall of a man emerging from my bedroom. I went to scream but the man at my door latched his hand around my mouth. I kicked and thrashed, biting wildly. He didn’t react. There was a pinch in my neck.

My elbows tried to find his face, but he was able to easily deflect them. The man in my apartment was searching for something. My eyes were blurring, limbs turned to lead. I saw him hold my phone up.

Then I slumped to the ground.

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lymtw · 2 months

Note

hello hello! i don’t know if you’re comfortable with writing this, but if so are you open to writing a toji x reader fic involving period sex? thank you!!! and p.s. i love your writing 😫❤️

A/N: Thank you for reading my works ☺️🫶🏼 I am totally comfortable writing this! I should really put up a post with my do's and don't's. I'll get to that as soon as I find the motivation 😃👍 Anyways, thank you for sending in this request 💙

| cw: period sex |

You don't like making a scene out of that time of the month when it comes to spending time with Toji. You don't like mentioning it to him, so whenever he wants to start removing clothes with you during that time, you always make up some excuse. You say you're not in the mood or that you're too tired or that you can help him out, but that's all, and thank god he never pushes it. He would rather take what you offer him or suck it up and bear the horniness in silence, than make you uncomfortable.

Toji knows the basics of basics of menstruation. He knows that you bleed out of your vagina for a few days, and that often times, it's an uncomfortable and painful time for your body. He knows that the fluctuations of your hormones brings on mood swings, and that you have to buy certain products to prevent you from getting blood everywhere.

"Ma," he calls, as soon as he walks through the door of your apartment. He's holding a bag of food in each of his hands. Food that you were craving and requested for him to pick up once he finished his job. Your door was unlocked so he knows you're not out, but you didn't answer him. He put the food down on the dining room table and went on to look for you. He didn't have to look too hard, because you were in your bedroom, the first room he checked.

"Doll?" He calls, again. "I brought the food you asked for. Don't you wanna eat?" He watches you from the doorway. You look down, very much so, and he knows there's something wrong because you answered him with the smallest shake of your head. He hates seeing you all curled up and seemingly lifeless like this. Your body is drowned by one of his hoodies and you're wearing your baggiest sweatpants. Though it looks comfortable, it's way too hot for you to be so covered up. He makes his way over to your bed and sits beside you. "What's up, mama? Why aren't you hungry, anymore?" He gently squeezes your hip a couple times, hoping maybe it'll make you turn to face him, but you don't. You stay curled up.

"My stomach hurts," you say, unsure of whether he heard you or not. All you know is that if he asked you to repeat yourself, you wouldn't out of frustration. You would just shake your head and go back to hurting in silence.

"Did you eat something bad?" He pauses, a small smile curling onto his lips as something else comes to mind. "Baby... have you eaten anything at all, today?" He knows sometimes you forget to eat because you get so distracted by everything else you have going on, and that pit in your stomach often makes you nauseous.

"No, it's not that. I'm on my period." You internally cringe at the use of the word. Despite the power behind being able to put up with this every single month, you can't help but feel fragile and weak at the thought of letting Toji in on it.

"Oh, doll... You should've told me this before. I would've showed up with much fuller hands." He lays on his side, and wraps his body around yours. His leg goes over yours and his hand goes beneath your hoodie and presses against your stomach. "So, your guts are mad that I didn't put a baby in you?" He says, into your back.

"Yeah, a bit," you say, thinking of the stomach clutching cramps you've had for the past couple hours.

"Damn, that's terrible. What about you, huh? Are you mad that I didn't put a baby in you?" He asks, a smile on his lips forming through the unserious question.

You can't deny that, occasionally, you've wondered what your DNA would look like mixed with Toji's in the form of a child. You always envision the cutest little boy with Toji's intense, green eyes and your beautiful hair, and Toji's sharp nose, and your pretty skin tone. You think of how much you would love him, and how you would take on that role of being a devoted and loving mother. You think of how attached you would become to the little munchkin, enough to assume that you would be the one crying on his first day of school, not your child.

"Of course not. I'm not ready to be a mom," you respond, lowly.

Toji would be lying if he said he didn't see himself having kids with you. He often imagines how you would look holding a baby girl that shares a mixture of his and your features. Part of him hopes that your graceful beauty shines, prominently, through those tiny features, but he also knows that it wouldn't be the end of the world if the child ended up looking more like him. To see you holding a mini him would heal something that runs deep in his soul. Regardless of whether your child looks like him or you or it's the perfect blend of both of you, he knows that he'll be begging to cradle them again and again, even if they are the reason he'll be losing sleep. He'll lunge towards them when they stumble and fall, he'll soothe them when they can't sleep, and he'll bear with the messiness and the unstable emotions.

"Good, 'cause..." he sighs and coils even tighter around you. You're starting to feel hot with all those heavy layers on and the additional source of heat that clings to you from behind. "I need to keep you to myself for a much longer while. I can't imagine sharing you with someone else." He smiles when you laugh quietly at the small poke offered to your stomach. "At least, not right now, 'kay?"

"Yeah, okay," you respond, genuinely glad that he feels the way he does. You don't feel ready to take that enormous step either.

"I know that means your periods will keep coming every month, but I can help you in any way you ask me to. You just have to let me know, mama." His voice conveys sincerity and concern. He's serious about you, but he can't stand being shut out like this on things that pertain to your wellbeing.

You wiggle out of his hold and flip over to face him. You smile at him as best you can, despite the storm you feel in your stomach.

"You look small, doll." He chuckles at the way you bring a sleeved hand towards his face. The sleeves of his hoodie are enormous and puffy around your arms.

"Yeah... your sweater was the only thing that was helping, earlier. I felt like the cramps were gonna kill me so I curled up in this because it smells like you."

His smile is so soft. He loves hearing that he was your best source of comfort while you were in pain. "Well, i'm here, now, so you can take that off and curl up with the real thing."

"Mm..." you drop your hand to his chest. "This is keeping me warm and it fits huge on me, so i'm comfortable."

"Come on. I'm warmer and I fit so much bigger on you than this." He grabs the material of his sweater and extends it away from your waist, before letting it go and watching it melt back into a bulky pile on you. "Yeah, this is nothing compared to me, doll. When i'm on top of you, you completely disappear."

You sigh, as if he isn't tempting you at all, but you can already picture the warmth of his body heat and it sounds absolutely divine. "Fine, fine," you grumble, sitting up to pull off the enormous blanket you had been wearing for the past three hours and tossing it towards the end of your bed.

"So, that's why you didn't wanna take it off?" He's no better than the strangers who ogle your body when he takes you out for a date night. Your chest is holding his attention like a puppy with its favorite toy.

"Told you I was comfortable," you say, fixing the twisted strap of your bra before laying back down.

"Did you not want me to see you like this?" He asks, feeling the bare skin of your waist beneath his palm.

"I just feel really gross, Toji. I showered twice and I still feel like I stink, my skin isn't clear, and my body hurts. I never want you to see me this way, but I can't stay away from you every time I go through this."

He sees this as the perfect moment for him to become your heat radiating weighted blanket, and he seizes the opportunity, splaying over you like a net before contracting his limbs around you. He really is bigger than that hoodie with the way he makes your entire body vanish beneath his.

"This..." you laugh, the sound coming out a little choppy due to the newly added weight. "...is much better," you say, your voice a little strained.

"Listen," he says. What he wants to say to you is really important, and he needs you to absorb the information as clearly as possible, so he thinks it's best if his lips are right beneath your ear, just so you don't miss a word he says. "You smell reallyyy good, but you shouldn't be scrubbing your skin raw with too many showers. Also, I didn't even notice the little pimples on your skin 'til you pointed them out. Not that it matters to me, but your skin will clear up in a couple days." He grins at the little giggles that leave you and the slight shake of your shoulders that accompany the sound. "And about the pain... just tell me what you need and I'll get it for you. Anything but a heating pad, because I like whaling on you like this." He pulls away and takes note of the beaming smile on your face. "You heard all of that, right?" He asks, making sure you're not just letting his words go over your head.

"Mhm." You hum, in response. Your hands cup his jaw and pull him closer to you. You pause when he's mere centimeters away from you and just look up at him, adoration clear in your eyes. His gaze flits between your eyes and your lips. You've always been so enticing and appealing to him, regardless of the nonsensical remarks you make about yourself. Toji has every intention of proving that he'll love you the same all the time. This time of the month is no exception.

With a lick to his bottom lip, he takes the leap and kisses you first. You smile as his lips move slowly and gently in tandem with yours. You feel a lot better with Toji around. It feels like he actually melted away your cramps with his presence. You can enjoy him because the pain in your stomach isn't as intense anymore.

He can feel the change in pace of your affection. You're kissing him faster, your hands are balling up the back of his shirt, and your breathing is getting heavier. He decides to take it step further and slides his hands beneath the cups of your bra.

"Does that hurt?" He asks, knowing that it's possible that your breasts feel tender.

"Not at all. Please, keep going. You can even squeeze a little harder," you say, a small laugh following.

"Alright, baby. You wanna take your bra off so I can get in there real good?"

You're a little nervous about where this is headed. You can feel the neediness growing between your thighs, and him touching your breasts like that is only fueling the flame. You don't know if he's innocently trying to soothe the tenderness that vanished a day before the waterfall of blood began or if he's just trying to cop a feel. All you know is that it feels good and that it's a risky decision to take your bra off even if you've already decided to remove it.

"Yeah, I'll take it off," you say, using your elbows to assist you in sitting up. He sits back on his knees as you reach behind you, towards the clasps of your bra. You take a little longer when you notice how he's staring at your chest in anticipation, practically hypnotized as he waits for you to free your tits. You swear you saw his tongue peek out to lick his bottom lip. Those naturally bright eyes of his are dark, the color almost entirely swallowed whole by his enlarged pupils. You have to try not to laugh at how strong his focus is as the cups slide down your chest and the strap ride down your arm.

"Fuuuck, look at you." He's practically drooling as he reaches his hand out to touch. He instantly feels the warmth and softness of your right breast engulf his hand. "You've got a really pretty body, doll. You know I love taking care of it," he purrs, crawling back onto you. You're pushed back onto the bed. Your head falls into the pillows, and you're instantly surrounded by Toji. He leans down, his lips brushing over your jaw while his hands busy themselves with your breasts. "You can't scare me off with a little bit of blood, pretty girl. You can't scare me off at all," he murmurs, letting his lips roam towards your neck. He rolls your buds between his fingers, smirking at the way you shudder at the more intense stimulation. "That feel good?" He asks, hearing the low hums coming from you.

"Mhm... it does." Your cunt throbs with need as he continues tweaking your nipples, brushing them with his thumbs, rolling them with index fingers before pressing them a little. He sucking on that sensitive spot on your neck, really putting in the work to make you want him, badly. "T-Toji..." you whimper.

"Yeah, I know, sweet girl. Just wanna help you feel better." A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest at the feeling of you squeezing your thighs around his waist, chasing friction for your needy cunt. "Need some help with that? Want me to rub your little clit?"

You're too distracted by the pleasure you derive from grinding against his lower abdomen to notice his hand leaving one of your breasts and trailing down your stomach. Just as his fingers go beneath the waistband of your sweatpants, you snap out of your daze.

"No, wait- That's dirty," you say, scooting backwards.

"What are you talking about?" He asks, rhetorically. "It's a part of you. I don't care if any part of me gets covered in your blood."

You look away from him, flustered by his admission. You've never allowed him to touch you down there while you're on your period. This might have been the first time you've directly told him about it, too, so before then, he was just left to assume.

"I'm not a pea brained little boy, and you're not gross for this, baby. Just let me help you feel better."

You contemplate it for a few seconds. You've never done it like this before. The mess would be extreme. You'll be overthinking the things that run through his mind the entire time. Would you even be capable of getting into the mindset necessary to enjoy it when you're so worried about what Toji's thinking?

"Please, mama. Let me make you feel good." He runs a hand over your shin, hoping to soothe your nerves about this.

Your thoughts were starting to loop from how much you were overthinking it. A whole lot of 'what is Toji going to think?' and 'what if he can't go through with it after seeing all of it?' swirling around in your head. The thoughts were going nowhere but down, so you eventually just let yourself go. "Okay," you respond. "Can I just have a minute before we..." you raise your brows, allowing the gesture to finish your sentence.

"Yeah, of course. Take your time." He retracts his hand, allowing you to rise off the bed and make your way to the bathroom.

You're nervous. You don't know what would compel Toji to want to do something like this. You'll accept that it's for your benefit, but what does he gain from this apart from getting a blood covered dick? You know he won't put on a condom. He practically whines every time you tell him to either put a condom on or pull out. Neither of those options are viable for him, so he sweet talks you until you let him go in raw and cum inside you. He always thanks you for staying on birth control. His appreciation is genuine, too. It's not just some douchey speech where he says 'thank you for taking pills so I don't have to stress about cumming inside you'. It's a real, hug and kiss, 'I love you' deserving, appreciation.

You walk out of the bathroom after removing your menstrual product, wearing just the panties you had on and your darkest colored towel wrapped around your hips. That pair of underwear is not your prettiest pair, so you're fine with ruining them so that you don't ruin your carpet on your walk back to the bed.

"Everything alright?" Toji asks, eyes glued on you the second the bathroom door opened.

"Yeah. All good," you assure, sitting on the edge of the bed. You felt as anxious as you did the first time you and Toji had sex together. It was visible in the way you kept your eyes on your folded hands and how you toyed with your thumbs.

"Don't be nervous, baby. It's just like every other time." He smiles at you as you continue to stare at your lap. "You wanna put the towel down?"

"Oh, yeah." The second the towel is unwrapped from your lower body, you feel your anxiety double, knowing that the stain on your underwear is visible. He can see you crossing your legs to try and hide the stain. It's cute, but futile, since he'll see it much more clearly in a few seconds. You're unnecessarily straightening the corners, as if the towel isn't going to be moving around once things get going.

"Good. Now, lay down for me," Toji instructs, the words making your heart drop. "Need you to get all comfortable."

You hesitantly crawl onto the towel and lay on your stomach, concealing the stain on the front of your underwear.

"Flip over, doll. Wanna look at that pretty face." He can tell you're doing everything you can to hide what he expected and already saw. You flip onto your back and cross your legs. "Come on, pretty girl. Don't be embarrassed. It's just me."

You sigh and uncross your legs. Seconds go by and your cheeks are scorching, embarrassment coursing through you so fluidly, not knowing that the sight makes Toji feral. The color, the fact that you're free bleeding and the stain is growing as time goes by, the shame it brings you from not being able to stop it. It's all going straight to his dick. It was already straining in his boxers, but now it's throbbing.

"Good girl," he praises, running his hands up and down your thighs. You feel hot under his gaze. He's not making his attention to your stained underwear subtle at all. You just want to put a pillow over your head and let him do what he has planned.

"You're so cute," he says, reaching a hand towards the loud color between your thighs. He feels the warm wetness beneath his thumb as he tests the waters and rubs your clit through the scarlet tainted garment. He watches you squirm at the touch, your stomach rising and falling erratically at the stimulation. "So warm, baby." He can see the color adhering to the edges of his thumb as he continues to stroke your throbbing clit.

"Toji..." you gasp.

"Yeah, baby. I know."

The smallest pinch between your brows appears as the stimulation continues. It's slow enough to keep you comfortable, but you want more, so you attempt to trap his hand between your thighs so that you can get off on it.

"Open, doll. Keep your pretty legs open for me." He grins at the shuddered breath you release as you release his hand.

"P-Please, Toji. Please, more," you whimper, feeling yourself get closer and closer to your peak.

He's notices how the blood reached higher up the front of your underwear. Right over where he's rubbing your clit, the material is soggy beneath his fingers.

"I'm gonna make you cum all you want, but not like this," he says, abruptly stopping the movement of his fingers. He bows forward and kisses from your slightly heaving mid-center to your lower abdomen. The irony smell of your blood is heavier as he nears the elastic of your panties.

"Let's get these off," he murmurs, hooking his fingers into the garment. Your heart is racing all over again at the thought of him seeing the whole thing, uncensored. The uncontrollable drip of your blood, the messy aftermath of it being smeared and played with by his fingers over the thin barrier of your underwear. It's not presentable, compared to what he got from you every moment before this one. Far from it, but he proceeds with his fearless curiosity, dragging your panties down your hips and thighs, above your knees and swiftly down the rest of the way. He puts them down beside you on the towel before carrying on with you.

In no way would he ever try to embarrass you over something like this, especially since he knows you're more emotionally sensitive right now and even the smallest amount of teasing might hit a little harder than intended. He looks at the overload of red smeared all over your cunt, on the folds, lathered over and through your slit, and streaked over your inner thighs. All he can think about is how cursed you must feel every once in a while to have to go through this every month. He's not stupid enough to think alike to those men who say they would bear the pain a lot better than women and that it's nothing compared to being kicked in the balls. He would take the pain for you in a heartbeat, but since science hasn't progressed so far to make that option a reality, he'll do what he can to help you in other ways.

You watch, intently, as Toji observes what he's seen plenty of times before. You feel different from every one of those times, despite him telling you that this time will be no different. You feel like your heart is about to lurch from your chest because all he's doing is looking. You know it's unappealing. You would give yourself to him entirely clean in this moment if you could.

"I wanna bury my face in there so badly. You know that?" He's so hard at the sight. His dick is twitching at the thought of using his tongue to clean you up. "I'll make it up to you in a couple days," he says, working his constricting boxers off. "Gonna feast on you. Hold these pretty thighs back when you try to crush my skull."

You don't think you've ever felt so withheld by him. Here he is, about to fuck you during one of the few days you refrain from letting him touch you this way, while talking about how badly he wants to devour you. You wouldn't call it unfair of him to tease you with this promise, he just has no other choice. Normally, his mouth is the first thing he gives you when things are getting hot and heavy, but for now, he can only use that mouth to kiss you and verbalize his desire.

"Don't look so nervous, doll," he says, his voice honeyed and his touch gentle on your skin, like he's shooing away all those negative thoughts that threaten your ability to enjoy this. "This is me taking care of you."

Toji did a good job of making you forget that this wasn't just normal sex. You were fed assurance, visually, audibly, and tactically. The second he thrusted into you and felt your incredibly warm and wet walls cling around him, his gaze darted up to meet your eyes. He looked back down for a split second when his hips pulled back, just to see the way you coated his shaft.

He understands that this is intense for you, that you're presenting yourself in a vulnerable state to him, but he's determined to make you understand that he will always try for you. It comes down to him knowing your wants and needs, and when they aren't so transparent, he counts on you to trustfully tell him about the things he can't openly assume.

He's overly generous with your pleasure, going on and on for you, chasing your orgasms with no intention of stopping until you tell him you've had enough. "Come on..." he groans, a deep chuckle following when he sees the way your arms are thrown over your face. "Come on, doll. Give me some attention." He's saying this because he's about to cum, again. He wants to look at you as he spews another load into you. He wants to see the expression on your face when you feel his cum overfill you, again. You lift your arms above your head and expose the way your chest heaves even more to him, but more importantly, the weary and glassy eyes he loves so much.

"Yeah, fuck... Just give me those eyes for a while, gorgeous." He's panting and his hips are stuttering as he stares you down, his lust-filled gaze giving you the illusion of being pressed into the mattress. One hand splays over your waist while the other focuses on nudging at your clit.

The added stimulation makes you jolt beneath his touch. It's heavenly and you want more, and you're right there. "F-Fuck... Fuck, please... Please!" you beg, feeling like you're melting beneath his touch. Your nails dig into the pillow beneath your head in an attempt to stay still for him.

"I know, mama. I know. I got you," he coos through choppy breaths, rubbing your clit fast enough to have you squirming against him. He watches dazedly as fresh crimson decorates his fingertips, anew. The pace of his hips becomes sporadic with his own peak nearing. He's about to bust again with the way your gummy, lubricated walls snuggly wrap around him.

With just a couple more thrusts and the ongoing stimulation offered to your clit, you gush all over him again, a mixture of your cum and blood rushing out of you and onto him before dripping onto the towel beneath you. "Oh my- T-Toji, oh fuck!" Your back arches off the bed, your head thrown back into the pillow as you cry out in pure ecstasy.

Toji is pulling you into his quickened thrusts, putting your tired, pretty body to work so that he can finish, too. He's following after you just a minute later, a deep, growl-like groan leaving him as more of his thick cum is shot into your ruined cunt. His chest rises and falls, long, heavy breaths exhaled through his parted lips. his neck glistens with sweat and dampened strands of hair stick to his forehead.

"How are your guts?" He asks, his words still somewhat breathy as he works to recompose himself after pulling out of you.

"Good," you respond, echoing back that tiredness. "Out of place, but good. That... that did it. No more pain." You think that if you shut your eyes for longer than ten seconds, you'll doze off. As if Toji would let you wake up feeling dirtier than you did before you let him get his hands on you.

"Hey," he calls, tapping your outer thigh. You hum in disapproval of having to open your eyes again. "Doll, we have to get you cleaned up." He taps you again.

"Five minutes," you whine, shutting your eyes tightly before pulling the pillow out from beneath your head and throwing it over your face.

"None of the whining, mama. It's for the best and you know it." He doesn't go on because you don't respond, presumably dozed off. He pulls the pillow off your face and becomes the target of your pointed gaze when light floods your vision again. "I'm not gonna stop bugging you until you get up." He's fighting the urge to tease you about wanting a kiss for that alluring pout on your lips. "Don't you wanna take a nice and cool shower with me?"

"I'm stuck," you groan, exaggeratedly dropping your arm after your feigned weak attempt to move more than a couple inches. "Can't... move."

"Your level of drama outshines the best actors, doll. I see right through it."

You can't even hold back a giggle at that. You clutch your chest and continue on with the theatrics. "Ouch. My stomach doesn't hurt anymore, but there's suddenly a really sharp pain in my chest. So, this is what taken back love feels like, huh?"

Toji snickers at the sound of your pathetic words as he crosses the ends of the towel over your lower body. Once the towel is wrapped securely, his arm goes beneath your knees, and the other settles on your lower back. With one swift motion, he lifts you off the bed and starts for the bathroom. He knew you had no intention of moving on your own, so he took the initiative. "Now you're a poet? You would never make it through heartbreak poetry." He looks down at you with a sly grin. "You would be making it all up, because you know how much I love your dramatic self."

You laugh. "Yeah... i'll never be a heartbreak poet." You don't sound like you're at a loss at all. You said it with a smile on your face. You've never been more happy to have lost a path like that.

"That's too bad, isn't it?"

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slightly-knot-insane · 19 days

Note

omfg congrats on your blog! truly deserve it

meanwhile let me get this outta my horny ass

stressed with work, you pray to any god who hears to take your troubles away

demon hears and demon takes

Thank you so much! I hope you'll enjoy my little snippet for you.

[m!demon x gn!reader]

New Acolyte

You've never wanted to be a part of a strict religious cult. You were basically sold into it since your parents were too poor to feed and educate you. And now you spend your best years serving gods you don't even believe in. Even worse, you've been promoted to an acolyte and you run around and serve other members like a slave. You're the youngest and most disobedient - there is always work for such as yourself.

You sigh in front of the altar. Every evening you wipe it with a damp cloth and put three candles on top. Candles are sacred and can only be lit by higher members of the clergy. They pray every morning using these precious candles. They apparently have mystical powers and can fulfil wishes. High priests know what is the best for the clergy and what people need the most so only they can ask for favours from gods.

Your mouth twists into a scowl. What about what you need? These gods don't care that you desire so much more than these dark halls and chanting. This is no life to live!

Checking behind yourself to see if you're truly alone, you light the three sacred candles and kneel, saying your personal prayer. A truly blasphemous one. You are willing to do whatever it takes to escape this life. You don't care which god - if they even exist - does this.

"Just get me out of here!" You hit the floor with your fists, staring into the flames. They flicker once, twice, and a strong gust of wind blows them out.

"I hope you don't mind I'm no god." The voice behind you is deep and husky reminding you of lions purring. "But I can help you with your wish."

You don't dare turn around. Cold sweat covers your brows. You are in danger - something truly sinister is one step behind you. A long red arm emerges in front of you and gently takes you by the chin. "Turn around, young acolyte."

You have to obey. You fall on your soft behind because you tremble too much, but now you can see the creature that visits you. A tall, lean, creature. His eyes are fire and charcoal and his toned body a sinful shade of fresh blood. And he is completely naked.

"You said you would do anything to get out of here." His voice is strange, as if multiple people speak and echo. "I have a request." You are still trembling but you nod your head.

The demon's black and red cock (which you tried oh-so-hard not to stare at) erects as if on command. It is bigger than any human you've seen while sneaking around. So shiny and smooth. "Have you done this before?", he asks you.

You blush. "Only in dreams."

Demon smiles and two rows of extremely sharp teeth make you shiver. "Come here, and let me teach you."

You obediently crawl on the floor and reach the demons legs. His cock smells surprisingly nice, something like burnt caramel. You lick it - unfortunately it doesn't taste like any candy but it's not too bad either. Your inexperienced tongue twirls around the tip and you hesitantly plant kisses along the shaft. Demon strokes your head. "Very good. Now lick your palm and use your hand as well."

You nod again and do as instructed. Your hand moves up and down, jerking off the demon, and your pulse speeds up. It's not only excitement; you feel hot, like you have a fever. Your head and chest are burning. "Good little acolyte." Demon's voice is soft and he is towering you, a happy and terrifying grin on his face.

You are too hot! You have to remove all your clothes or you will melt! Without letting delicious demon cock fall out of your mouth, you remove all your robes and underwear. It barely helps - your skin could ignite any second! But it doesn't matter - this cock, this wonderous organ, exquisite limb - is all you can think about. Making it more wet, making it more hard, pleasuring it faster, more skillfully. Demon moans and his voices echo for a long time. "Acolyte..."

Some ethereal invisible hands touch your hot skin. They fondle your neck, back, nipples, stomach, slide between your thighs. You've never been touched like that. You shake from delight, never for a second letting go of that cock, working on that shaft with all your might. Demon's breath hitches and your mouth gets filled with sweet demon seed. Some of it end up on your naked body and you notice it's red like wine. The invisible hands are gone and you are left without release and soiled, excitement rushing through your veins. You need more.

"Please... Please... Take me... Don't leave me here..."

Demon smiles and touches your cheek with his sharp nail. "You are my acolyte now. I promised you new life. I'm not going anywhere without you."

#monster #monster lover #monster fuqqer #monster fucker #demon #demon lover #demon fucker #monster imagine #teratophillia #monster boyfriend #smut #monster x reader #monster x gn reader #x reader #slightlyknotinsane #ski.doc

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heartfullofleeches · 3 months

Text

Vendetta [Magical Boy Yan] with a magical Scientist Reader who experiments on the monsters they fight and is generally just one of the worst magical people to stumble across. It's a mystery as to why Reader does what they do - they hardly have any compassion for their fellow humans and laughs at the ridiculous idea they're performing these experiments to turn these creatures back into humans. The ones that used to be humans that is. They've crafted weapons and armor from the skin and meat of their enemies, but they grown old of their toys before long. Many have asked. The answer remains the same.

"Why do I do this?.... Because it's fun I don't know what else you want me to tell you."

Vendetta swears he hears wedding bells- A ruthless, coal hearted scientist with zero regard for how the public views them who also happens to have a sadistic streak? Where has Reader been all his life? Drags monsters and crooks alike to Reader's doorstep in exchange for a reward - Money doesn't mean shit to Vendetta when he could have front row tickets to Reader's next surgery. I see Scientist Reader being a med student outside of their magical persona which Vendetta would tease them about, but totally sees as a bonus because nerds are hot.

Weakens the locks on Reader's cages so their pets can escape and he can live vicariously through them when Reader comes to collect them.

Reader tries to kill Vendetta when they first met, but upon realizing he likes getting the shit kicked out of him they bail because he's a freak.

Reader is stronger than Vendetta in their magical form, but weaker in their normal because I like the idea of that.

[Scientist Reader presses the heel of their boot against Vendetta's neck as they stand over him, sneering down at the man as he gasps for air]

Reader: You disgust me. Any last words before I remove your vocal cords?

Vendetta: You should spit in my mouth. I'd reallllly hate that- Here, I'll show you how to do it.

[Vendetta sucks blood from the split in his lip - spitting upwards directly into Scientist Reader's mouth.]

Scientist Reader: Mother-FUCKER- That went into my mouth! Why does your blood taste like battery acid?!

Vendetta: I'm waiting~

Scientist Reader: Give it back.

Vendetta, holding Reader's id card out of reach: Aw, this what you normally look like? You're pretty cute for a dork. I could totally take you.

Scientist Reader: Oh, please- I've beaten your ass more times than I care to remember.

Vendetta: Who said anything about a fight.

Vendetta: Got photos of you leaving that old abandoned library. Must've nicked yourself pretty bad down there- All that blood on your clothes...

Scientist Reader: And what do you plan to do with those photos?

Vendetta: Jerk off?- Tf else do you want me to do with them?

#Vendetta my oc #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere oc #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #male yandere

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actuallysaiyan · 4 months

Text

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, periods/menstruation, bodily fluids, messy, do not READ IF YOU DON'T LIKE PERIODS I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH OKAY????

You’d never done this before. You’ve been with Kento for a while now, and you just never thought you’d be in this position. Sometimes when you’re on your period, you just get so horny. This was no exception this week. You found yourself almost unable to contain your arousal. It was beginning to drive you crazy.

“We can just have sex,” Nanami suggests. He looks up from the magazine he’s reading to see your reaction.

“What do you mean?” You ask, your mouth dry from just the thought alone.

“We can have sex. I could fuck you. You’re horny. What kind of lover would I be to leave you in need like this?”

Your heart flutters. You’ve never felt so aroused in your life. You feel the urge to jump on this man and ride him until you’re both completely exhausted. Logically, you know you need to set this up better than to just jump on him and rip his clothes off.

Kento comes over to you, leaving the magazine on the couch. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you in for a very sweet kiss. Then it soon turns hungrier and more passionate, leaving your cunt throbbing with need.

“Let’s get some towels.”

You follow him to the linen closet and Kento picks out a few old towels that have been shoved to the back. He grabs your hand and leads you into your shared bedroom.

He places the towels over the blankets, making sure everything is covered. Regardless, he doesn’t care if things get too messy. It just gives him an excuse to buy new sheets. Then he looks at you and smirks.

“Undress and get on the bed.”

You remove your clothes slowly, painfully aware of the pad that sticks to your underwear as you throw it on the ground. Something about this is parts arousing but also parts embarrassing. If only to prove that you’re too horny for your own good, the embarrassment seems to make you even more aroused.

You sit on the bed, your legs slightly spread. Kento looks at your cunt, noticing the blood and slick that’s smeared a little on your inner thighs. He’s no stranger to the nature of menstruation, but he’s finding himself very turned on by the thought of fucking you while you’re on your period.

He slowly strips, tantalizing you and making you practically begging for him. Then he grabs the bullet vibrator from the bedside table, turning it on. Just the sounds of it make your body shudder in excitement. He spreads your thighs even more, pressing the vibrator to your needy clit.

The moan that escapes you sounds so pathetic. Kento smirks as he presses the vibrator harder onto your swollen nub. He begins circling it, using the different speed functions to his advantage. His eyes snap down to your dribbling hole. There’s blood tingeing the slick that leaks out of you.

“Need to get you all ready for me.” He explains to you, even though he knows you’re more than ready for him.

Kento brings you to an orgasm with expertise and ease. The vibrator thrums against your clit so deliciously, making the flames in your lower tummy build until the dam breaks. You cum hard with a loud cry and more of your red tinged slick drips out of your pussy.

He lines his cock up to your hole, watching as it greedily tries to swallow his tip. Your cunt is more than ready to take him, but he just enjoys teasing you. Especially since you’re even more needy than usual. Slowly, he slides into you until he’s balls deep inside you.

A low grunt rumbles from his chest. Nanami had no idea just how much hotter and wetter your pussy would be from your period. The added blood makes things stickier in a way, but it is not unpleasant. In fact, it adds to the pleasure.

“You feel so fucking good,” he says as he helps you wrap your legs around him. “Fucking hot, tight and wet.”

You can barely think straight to even answer him. All that comes from your lips now are moans, desperate pleas and pathetic whines. Kento captures your lips in a heated kiss as he begins to fuck you a little harder and faster.

“That’s it,” he murmurs against your lips. “I’m gonna cum inside you. Make this bond even deeper…”

Your nails dig into his back as the tip of his cock slams against your sweet spot. You’re seeing stars as your next orgasm begins building faster and faster. You can’t even imagine lasting longer than a few more seconds of this.

“You know what they say about fucking while the woman is on her period right?” Kento huskily whispers in your ear. “They say it bonds the man and woman for life. Their souls bonded forever.”

You pant like a bitch in heat as your orgasm comes crashing over you. Your tight little walls flutter around him, making Kento grunt. Your slick, bloodied walls are milking him for all he’s got. Another few harsh thrusts and he’s burying himself deep in you so that he can release his load deep inside of you.

Soft cries and pants fill the room as both of you are riding out your high. Kento slowly pulls out, watching his seed leaking out of your hole. The blood mixes with his cum and it causes his cock to harden again. He uses the tip of his cock to push the cum back into you.

“Round two, yeah? You can take it, yeah?”

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thesilmarillionblog · 4 months

Text

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part: 7

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: heavy angst, hurt, language, PTSD, soft Soldier Boy, Soldier Boy gets hurt, anxious reader, mention of torture

Word Count: 3373

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

Your senses began to awaken when a hand removed the mask covering your face. Your body felt numb and lightheaded, making it difficult for you to see anything, even if you were able to free your hands from the tight handcuffs. Your legs felt like jelly, and it felt like all of your strength had been stolen away. From a distance, you heard someone calling your name, but you had no idea who it was. Everything was terribly cloudy, complex, and hazy.

The voice attempting to communicate with you was most likely that of another evil scientist who had come to torture you and grab more samples from you. You thought, Oh, my god. How did things turn out for you? How much time have you spent here? Months, weeks, or a year? You struggled to remember every memory; your head hurt so much that you grimaced.

Ben snarled at Butcher, “Give me your fucking coat,” trying to quickly cover your body with his own as he saw you were only wearing a very short, thin, filthy dress that smelt terrible.

Ben said, “You still look beautiful, you know, but you definitely need a good and long shower, baby,” as he saw you straining to completely awaken. He kept observing your facial expressions, fascinated and concerned at the same time, since you appeared so innocent and confused in the metal box. You may have gotten the same upgrades as him, given his newfound abilities, and if he wasn't careful with you, you could do a lot of damage. If it were the same for you, though, he could manage the energy in your chest with ease.

You smelled blood everywhere and felt panicked the moment the smoke burned your eyes and made it difficult for you to see properly. Your body shook from anxiety and terror. All around you, you heard faint whimpers and shallow breathing that sounded like they were ready to pass away. The smell of death and pain filled that place. You knew you had to leave this torture house as soon as you could, while you were still able to. You used all of your strength to push the body in front of you against the wall and across the room harshly while that stranger forced you to put on a coat.

Ben groaned, “Oh, fuck, sweetheart,” as he realized he was through the wall. With a raised eyebrow, he grinned to himself. It wouldn't be that simple, he realized. After all, you were his equal.

Butcher realized that this wouldn't go away as he had hoped and that he perhaps could have made a small mistake, and he took a step back in terror. He didn't dare get involved because he wasn't on Temp-V.

You coughed in between clouds of smoke, and the heavy blood all over the area made your face drop. Indeed, you were once more in danger, and those creatures undoubtedly had new plans for you. You halted briefly as hot blood beneath your boots stopped you from continuing your frantic search for the exit. There were corpses all throughout the place, and they undoubtedly belonged to those people who had tormented you and forced you to sleep for who knows how long.

“At this point, what will you do? Will she explode similarly to you or worse?” Ben stood up from the location he was thrown into, as Butcher asked.

Ben shook his head, scrubbing away the dusk and stones from his hair and clothes. “Stop whining like a bitch,” he shouted loudly. “I can handle this. She's just confused.”

You started to move out the door, but powerful hands quickly grabbed your waist and held your arms, restricting your movements just like the day you were tricked. You cried out, “Let me go,” as your heart raced in anticipation of being confinted or, worse, subjected to more agony.

You tried everything to pull yourself out of the desperate situation, feeling terrified and perplexed, but his grasp held you tightly, and it was strangely stronger than yours.

A voice called out to your ear from behind you, “Calm down.” Once you found out, you knew it belonged to the man who once acted like he cared about you, then tossed you aside and tricked you with his new lover. That was when you truly realized what was going on. If your supe hearing sense wasn't playing tricks on you, it belonged to Ben.

“I want to get you out of here, sweetheart. I know how you are feeling, but stop resisting. Trust me.”

Ben spoke to you like he was whispering, yet you didn't feel at all at ease. Your body stiffened at the hurtful memories of him casting you aside, teaming up with Countess, and betraying you. He was the one who, along with Crimson Countess, imprisoned you in that icy, cruel location and made you endure unending suffering. His soothing murmurs sounded poisonous to the ears.

You fought to break free from his embrace as fury overtook the entirety of your being, but he applied even more force to you. Your gaze was fixed on the door when he settled his ruthless hold around your back, pressing his chest against your back to calm you. You felt so far away, yet so near to freedom.

“It seems she's not very happy to see you, huh?” With a sly smile, Butcher smirked to Ben. “We must immediately leave this place. Any suggestions?”

Ben used the mask he had removed from your face moments before to cover your face once more, exposing you to the same smoke, while he managed to get a hold of both of your arms. You started to cry because you were horrified and felt betrayed, and your heart began to race since you had no idea what he would do to you. How come he was even abusing you in this way?

You were still in his grasp as Ben leaned his head against yours, made you smell the smoke flowing from the mask, and whispered, “Sorry for this, baby. I wouldn't hurt you; I don't mean to. Just stay calm.”

Despite how much you tried to resist it, you have never felt more helpless against him. Tears were streaming down your face, and your eyes began to close. You wanted to talk to him right then and there and attempt to figure out what was bothering him so much about you. Though you planned to speak to him, the faint sound of his name vanished beneath the mask as a deep sleep overtook your already exhausted body.

“Thought you wanted to free her?” Butcher replied in a mocking voice as he observed Ben tightly holding the mask to your face while observing the painful look on your face. With an serious tone, Butcher continued, “We need to get the fuck out of here.”

When Butcher saw you two like that, he was surprised. All he knew was that everyone who knew them acknowledged Soldier Boy and Countess's romantic relationship. At the time, they were the most well-known couple. He was unaware of your relationship with Soldier Boy. As long as Ben followed through on his commitment to kill Homelander, he could care less about the possibility that it was an affair, something between you, or something else. He'd take care of other stuff later.

Ben yelled, “Fuck off,” in a harsh tone. “Without this mask, we can't take her out like that. Until we get home, I'll keep her asleep.”

“And how on earth will you do that, Mr. Loverman?”

Ben snapped, “Take that fucking tube,” and softened his hands immediately after applying the mask to your face a little too forcefully. While you were still a supe and wouldn't be easily wounded, he felt a little bad for unleashing his strength on you. You're being a supe did not, however, mean that using force against you was acceptable. “You will carry it while I keep that mask on her face till we get to the car.”

Butcher followed Ben's instructions and grabbed the tube Ben mentioned. As he strained to hold the tube steady on his shoulders, Butcher muttered a groan and said, “This shit is a bit too heavy.”

Even though he was stronger than the majority of other humans even in his human form, Butcher found it difficult to carry the tube. His jaw clenched and his muscles tautened as he bore it.

Ben was furious and was trying to find a method to carry you as he made sure the mask stayed on your face and forced you to stay asleep. “Be a fucking real man for a second,” he cursed. Ben lifted you in his arms and carried you in bridal carry while the other hand remained still on the mask.

“I should have used Temp-V,” Butcher complained once again as he followed Ben, who was making his way out of the room in quick steps, while you slept peacefully in his arms.

“Maybe you should just grow your dick,” Ben remarked as he headed for the car after getting a deep breath of fresh air. Sitting in the rear now, Hughie was staring at them, mouth agape with worry, seeing you in Soldier Boy's arms, blissfully asleep.

Hughie tried to ask questions, but Ben shot him an angry glare and said, “Why the fuck are you waiting there? Fucking move.”

Hughie took a step forward and turned around without uttering a word. He watched, worried, as Butcher set down a big tupe on the seat next to Ben, who had come into the car, put you on his lap, and covered your face with a mask.

“Let’s fucking get the fuck out of there,” Butcher murmered after he gave a look to Ben and you.

Ben tenderly laid your body on his bed, and Butcher and Hughie followed him inside his room, their eyes wide with curiosity.

“What happened to her?” Hughie asked Butcher and Ben, but neither of them responded.

In the hopes that you would be more at ease, Ben removed the mask from your face and waited for you to wake up once more. He saw you gently open your eyes, and his heart raced. Uncertain of your response, Butcher and Hughie put some distance between them.

You opened your eyes and let out a painful moan. When everything became clear to your sight at last, it was then that you realized you were lying in a bed that was comfy.

Ben slowly sat down next to you, placing his large hands on yours and muttering in a dry voice, “Everything's good; you're good.”

Was it truly good, though?

With a feeble voice, you asked, “Ben?” while keeping your gaze on his green ones. He didn't look quite the same as when you last saw him. His beard gave him a more serious, grown-up appearance. “What's going on over here?”

The two strangers who were observing you intently caught your attention, and they inhaled deeply. Ben was about to grab your hand, but you quickly moved to put some distance between you and avoid his touch. You smelled a lot worse than you looked, and you were wearing a long, black coat. You checked your body, and your face wrinkled with loathing. Oh god.. For how long has it been?

You grimaced, gave Ben a fierce gaze, and asked, “How could you have done this to me?” before he could say anything more.

Ben was briefly taken aback, but he wasn't shocked that you believed he was the one who had fooled and deceived you, placing you in such a horrible situation for decades—even though it had all been Vought's evil shit all along.

"Course it wasn't me." Ben immediately defended himself, gazing over your body. “I didn't even know,” he said.

You raised your hand to interrupt him before he could say any more lies, saying, “I just need a shower right now.”

You were careful not to touch Ben while he nodded and apologized in a low voice as he attempted to assist you in standing up. The two guys across the room were simply silently waiting and observing you when Ben sent them an angry glare, and they quickly left the room. Though you were ignorant of the dynamics amongst the three of them, you knew you needed to use caution if they were Ben's new fellow soldiers. In the end, you had no understanding of what was going on, and you received no change from anyone.

There was an unsettling silence the two of you had while you were alone in the room, but he soon showed you the bathroom.

You murmured, gently keeping the coat against your body, “I need new clothes.” After everything that happened to you, you shouldn't have been concerned about how you looked, but you were unable to stop it. It was a natural inclination, after all, to feel clean.

Ben smiled warmly at your hesitant attitude as he went to the wardrob with pride and showed you the t-shirt, underwear and all he had previously purchased for you with Butcher's money. He wanted you to see how interested and ready he was to start things again with you, as he had already given it much thought. Not only did he take your suit from Legend, but he promised to display it to you later. Your suit wasn't a priority, considering that the chaos all around you had already overwhelmed you.

“I'll be waiting downstairs, so we can talk about what happened properly,” Ben stated after clearing his throat. Then, you took the clothes from his hands and entered the bathroom, locking the door as though someone would dare to interrupt.

You took the longest shower of your life, showered head to toe, put on the clothes Ben bought you, and headed downstairs. Ben and two strangers were watching the news on TV, which seemed a little unusual because it was so modern.

Ben did not make a scene, even though his face fell when he saw you sitting on the couch, distant from him. As you began to watch the news, you glanced at the gadget that Hughie was holding and clicked on it while wearing a serious expression. Then you turned to face Ben and requested, “Tell me slowly, what year we are in?” in a low voice.

With rush, Butcher responded, “It's 2022.”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, placing your hand over your forehead, while continuing to stare at the TV and gawking at all the strange things you had never seen before. Ben had stole your years.

Ben instantly spoke up and stated once more in a firm voice, “I didn't do this to you. Vought deceived both of us. Also, it has been about four days since those fuckfaces rescued me in Russia.”

“You’re welcome,” Butcher said, sipping his whiskey.

You questioned Ben once more in a suspicious tone, “How did you even find out what happened to me?” You had plenty time to ask all the thousand questions you had, but you still had priorities.

Ben's gaze strayed as he thought about sitting next to you and making a physical connection to ensure you listened him properly without you passing judgment on him, but he remained where he was. He never considered discussing Crimson again, but it seems that it was inescapable.

Ben only said, “I learned it from Crimson Countess,” trying not to show how insecure he was. He and the Countess had already done you an immense amount of pain.

With a sad smile, you nodded meaningfully and said, “Of course she'd be the first to pay a visit.”

She remained his main concern even after all this time and your efforts on his behalf. But now it means absolutely nothing. While you were sleeping, so many years had gone by, and nothing seemed to matter anymore. You felt like you had undergone a complete change from the person you knew in the past.

“It’s not what you think,” Ben said seeing your disappointed face.

“I really don’t care, Ben,” you simply said with all sincerity. You weren’t lying.

Although it was difficult to accept their relationship and everything that had happened in the past, you now felt a little foolish for not just letting go. In addition, you spent years in a metal box and were tortured because of your naive attitude. You felt lost, and you had nothing now. You were left without even a place to go.

“Do you have something to eat?” you shyly asked Hughie, who had a humble and kind expression on his face. You have questions, for sure, but you needed to eat something first.

Hughie quickly said, “Sure, we can order something.” And you thanked him with a smile on your face.

Ben took a deep breath and decided not to press the issue because he thought you were a little too sensitive and hungry. His whole body was itching to sit next to you, and his eyes never left you. He was never fully aware of how much his body yearned for your attention and touch. Perhaps since so many years had passed between you, this need and yearning had always existed. But you were not the woman he had known before, and your gentle but determined attempts to keep him at a distance disturbed him.

You leaned back as you ignored Ben’s gaze on you and tried to focused on the TV to see how much the world has changed.

“I visited her to ask what happened to you,” Ben suddenly said with a rough voice.

Without getting into an argument, you just nodded and carried on watching TV, saying, “Okay.”

There was a headline that said, ‘Soldier Boy's terror killed at least 50 people in a week,’ when the information first came on television.

Ben cursed loudly, and you murmered, “What?”

You were all fixated on the reporter commenting on the extent of Ben's damage to Ohio and New York while Butcher turned up the voice of the TV. You gasped as you watched an entirely wrecked street in New York and heard injured people telling the TV reporter how far Ben's explosion was heard from and how badly he damaged the lives of everyone inside, killing 19 people, including children.

Ben's face was unreadable as he stared at the television, lost in thoughts and feeling a weight of guilt in his chest. He had no intention of blowing up in the first place. He was aware that the Russian song was the reason behind his unexpected outburst in the middle of the street. He had no feelings of hostility toward people.

When they also displayed the doctor's picture on the screen—who was heavily involved in your torture—your lips parted in disbelief. The reporter was telling the public that Soldier Boy had blown up his house and him as well.

“What have you done?” you murmered to Ben whose lethal green eyes were fixed on yours.

Next Chapter

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

A/N: Comments and reblogs are very appreciated!

And Happy Pride Month to my dearest readers and everyone! -`♡´-

Taglist: @mostlymarvelgirl @xmariakx @spnfamily-j2 @suspicious-stain-in-spain @atomicsoulcollecto @yvonneeeee @starryperson @mfnqueen1 @chaand-sitara @boywivlove @stilinskisthings @brynanna @delaynew @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @yoyoanaria @n-o-p-e-never @ghostslillady @certifiedhaters @deans-spinster-witch @demodemo909

Let me know if you want to be tagged for this series. -`♡´-

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imagines-to-quench-thirst · 1 year

Text

Farmer Clark

something just snapped at me when I saw this picture. I mean look at this picture

Pairing: Clark Kent x reader

Genre: SMUT, 18+, sir kink, breeding kink, female receiving

Notes: I saw this picture on Pinterest and yeah, I got carried away. Ah, to be on a farm with Clark.

The sun was blazing on the hot Metropolis day. Clark's farm was standing proudly on the hills surrounded by nature. Green hills were holding the fruits of the labor of Clark's blood, sweat, and tears, making produce for him and you for the following year. Y/n walked out of the barn, watching Clark throw a ball of hay over his shoulder as if weighing 2 grams. Maybe for him, it did. His muscle shined from the sweat that glistened on his slightly tanned skin. His pecs tensed every time he pulled, hauled, and threw something, anything, around the farm.

The man was a god walking among mortals, and you felt your mind fill with lewd images of him. His hand held the wrench as he knelt down in front of his tractor, trying to fix minor damage, a damage he told you about, but you could not concentrate on that as you saw his biceps move with each swing, tug, and pull. Observing him kneel like that gave you more ideas and wants. Wishing you were the one sitting there and him kneeling in front of you, eating you out until you see the stars, and he was so good at that.

"-pass me the...Y/n...Y/n?" Clark brought you out of your daze, noticing your head snap and your eyes trying to find him, finding him on the floor, lying on his back, looking confused, his hand reaching for yours. Giving him your hand, he chuckles.

"As much as I love to hold your hand, your hand can't unscrew a 5-inch bolt. Pass me the tool there."

With a slight blush on your cheeks, you pull away, taking your hand away from his grasp and handing him the appropriate tool, crouching down and sitting on the hay-filled ground, watching him do the work. Work you knew nothing about, you loved being around the farm, and living that quiet farm life, enjoying it with Clark. Relishing in every moment with him in this life, every early morning even though you hated to get up sometimes, every day off when you ran across the field while Clark chased you, every kiss that was stolen away from you while you were trying to make an apple pie, every time riding the tractor while he drove enjoying the bumpy ride.

"-in your world..."

"Huh?"

Snapping back, you see Clark in front of your face. "I said, 'You really are in your own world, darling?' That is what I said."

Laughing awkwardly, you look at him, seeing the smile on his face, his eyes fixed on you, and his big strong hands caressing your tights. Clark saw the glint in your eyes, he felt your heartbeat quicken when his hand inched a bit higher towards your waist, caressing unhurriedly as if trying to make you say it. To say what you want. What you want him to do to you.

"You know that I can feel you, sweetness. Every breath that stops in your throat, every whimper that you muffle, each gaze you throw at me. Therefore, you can tell me, darling. What do you want?"

Clark was playing the long game as much as you did. But on a much higher level. And he looked so delectable like that. Muscles on display, just wearing the overalls, he was playing every single character in your favorite romance books. And you wanted nothing more than to skip to the best part, but you needed to speak, as thinking too long might not help. He is a hero, but reading minds was not his forte.

"I want you, Kal-El. I want you to have your way with me."

Leaning into him, you kiss him, wrapping your hands around his neck, scratching the baseline of his hair, nipping and tugging. Clark felt himself shift into more of his primal urges, and the kiss was the fuse that started it. His nose filled with your arousal as his hands began to remove bits of your clothing; unlike Clark, you had more clothes on yourself. Sitting in his lap, you felt his length harden, your hips sway back and forth, and you continued to make out. The motion takes a new direction as Clark picks you up in his arms, laying you gently on the ground, the hay starting to make your skin itch. Pulling away, Clark breath out

"Put this behind your back." He offers his jacket, and you happily take it, placing it on your back.

Laying comfortably on it, Clark stops to take you in, your heart, your body, your whimpers, and at that moment, he wants to devour you.

"Darling, will you let me eat you out?"

You can simply whimper as your legs want any friction as they rub together. Removing your pants and underwear, Clark's face is in front of his other favorite pair of lips(as he said), and for once, you didn't mind the view. Clark was face down, ass up, and after his perfect face was his perfect ass sticking in the air. His blue eyes looked into yours, and you felt his tongue lick you, so slowly and sensually, like a feather touching your skin.

"More, Clark! This isn't enough." You say as you cup your breasts, fondling them, trying to add more sensation.

"I just started, pet. Believe me, I will have my way with you. I will corput you." Clark stated as he started his work. Licking up your folds, tracing each curve, fold and dip you had to offer. All of his tongue work leading to your clit, sucking with a harsh motion making you yelp and arch your back. Clark knew what he was doing to you, but you had no idea what you were doing to him. Sure, he was in pain as his cock was painfully hard and his balls heavy, needing to be emptied inside you, to breed you but for now, seeing you like this and that just being the start gave him some satisfaction. His fingers found your backside as they toyed with the rim making small circles on the entrance.

That feeling to you was different, your first time of him doing that and still being so gentle. The sensation started to bubble in you feeling a climax nearing extremely close.

"Clark, I am close. Stop."

At the word, Clark stops and looks concerned "Are you okay? Was I too rough? I know we didn't talk about anal-" You laugh at his words as you bring him up to you, kissing him passionately, telling him in the kiss that everything is perfect.

"What I mean by 'Stop.' was that I do not want to cum like this, but I want to cum together."

Clark looks at you and chuckles himself.

"You had me worried there, missy. But what you ask, you shall receive since you have been such a good girl."

"Yes."

Clark towers over you, his muscles shining from the overhead lighting and casting an intimidating shadow on your body.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir." You reply.

Your body tenses as you feel his cock tapping your clit, teasing you. His hips push forwards with a slow, agonizing pace, your walls making way for his massive length as he nestles deep inside you, finding the warmth and spark he wanted. Placing your hands on his shoulder, you let yourself relax and enjoy the moment. His hips moved back slow as ever, making you whine at the loss of his fullness. Clark chuckles darkly

"I knew you wanted me to fuck you. But today, I am not doing that." he says while looking deep into your soul "I am going to breed you." he proclaimed, slamming his hips into you, the sensation dilating itself to a maximum in a second. Taking a fast pace, you saw his eyes closed, focused on what he is feeling and giving you as his ears are filled with your moans and pornographic sounds filling the empty barn.

"I will make sure you are full of my cum. No matter how many times you will carry my child." he voiced, his hands keeping yours in a gentle touch while his hips proclaimed you.

Hearing his statement, you felt a fire stir in you. You and Clark talked about having kids and occasionally having baby fever but nothing so sure came from his mouth as of seconds ago.

"Yes! I want your babies, Clark!" you screamed out, giving him an inkling that you, too, wanted this life.

His hips continued to snap into yours as his fingers found your clit rubbing it, pressing just hard enough for you to be closer to your climax.

"Then if we want a baby...we need to cum together. What do you say, missy? Are you close? I can feel you squeeze me tighter and tighter."

At a loss for words, you shake your head up and down, shutting your eyes and feeling the inevitably snap in you as you came. Clark's pace slowed as he rutted into you, letting himself fall beside you, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you inhumanly close.

"You really make me crazy. You know that, darling?" Clark said, kissing your neck, leaving a few hickeys in its wake. You watched him carefully pull out as he grabbed his overalls to clean you up. You pull away from him, saying "Those overalls are the reason we are in this position. Don't you dare ruin them."

Clark looks at them, confused "They are just overalls."

Standing up slowly, still feeling full, you say, "Those are the sexiest overalls I have ever seen."

With a naughty gleam, Clark throws the overalls over his shoulder " Then I will have to find another way to clean you up."

I have a audio file on farmer Clark in the making if you want to hear a snippet of it CLICK HERE.

3K notes · View notes

the-californicationist · 5 months

Note

Hiii

First of all I wanted to thank you for your amazing fics 🤩. They have become a part of my life and I can’t live without them anymore 🥹💖

Secondly, I wanted to ask about a fic if you would consider. 🫶

Price is injured in his thigh and we are a medic. When attending to the wound the tension rises and a little bit of teasing from our part? 😌

Also, Price can’t take us like he wants because of the wound but we can do 69?

Or maybe something more thrilling! I know you are the greatest in ideas and writing! ❤️‍🔥

Thank you a loooot. (*＾3＾）/～♡

Do No Harm

After being shot in the leg, Captain Price is put on strict bed rest by his medic: you. When he threatens to break your orders, you decide to use your rank against him.

AO3 Link

TW: female reader, face fucking, hurt/comfort, come play

When the captain got shot, all hell broke loose. Ghost and Gaz retaliated swiftly, and the bomb that Soap rigged to blow the enemy encampment was more than a little overkill. The four of them had shown up back at your makeshift base, sweaty, bloody, and exhausted.

“What happened?” You asked the tall lieutenant, searching his face as he removed the skull mask, looking for signs as to how serious it was.

“He took a hit to the thigh. Dead bloody center,” the tall Brit rolled his captain over, the latter of whom let out a torrid string of curses and shouts, nasty enough to make you blush.

You inspected the wound, but his clothing was in your way. Ripping your scissors out of your chest armor, you set to cutting him out of his trousers, and you tried not to let the panic get the best of you.

The truth was that you were keeping a secret. You were sleeping with their captain. You and John had broken a series of rules (and furniture) over the past four months, enjoying each other in the most primal, carnal way. Every night that he was on base, he sneaked into your medbay, aching with something other than pain and searching for his cure.

You knew it was wrong. It was so far beyond protocol that you wouldn’t be surprised if they court martialed you when they found out, but you didn’t care. You were addicted to him. When he was away for too long, you crawled through the hallways and out into the common rooms with a slick problem between your legs. Something only his fat cock and filthy mouth could solve.

He was terrible with you. Nothing was off-limits. He used you like a toy, and his fervid want was enough to burn you alive. In the darkness, his grasping hands and hot breath scorched your skin, searing across your belly, pinching your nipples, playing in your lips, all for the express purpose of making you come. It was his favorite thing. By the sixth, the seventh, when you were begging him to squeeze his pulsing rod inside of you, pleading in whispered cries for him to fuck you, he would chuckle with a dark joy. Teasing you, calling you his pretty little plaything, reminding you that you were fully at his mercy.

It was hard to see him like this, but you were good at your job, and luckily, the bullet had gone right into the muscle. No broken femur, no arterial damage. Your predator would live to hunt you another day.

“I need everybody out. Come back in an hour,” you commanded.

“Yes, ma’am,” Gaz replied, leading the others out of the clinic to debrief and regroup after a hard night.

You sliced through his canvas pants, slipping the shears through the fabric to reveal his bare skin. He never wore any underwear, which you were always quick to rib him for. Then, you inspected the wound. They had packed it in the field, and as you removed the dressings, more and more blood pooled out of the hole, obscuring your view. You worked as fast as you could, administering as much anesthetic as you had on hand, knowing that it wasn’t enough. He was doing everything he could not to writhe in pain as you threw stitch after stitch.

“Jus’ wanted to get me alone, didn’t ya?” He teased you through gritted teeth. His voice was weak, but he was feisty, which was a good sign.

You smiled down at him, joking around,

“You know it. But, you’re lookin’ a little worse for wear today, Captain. Might have to get my fix somewhere else.”

“Don’t even think about it,” he growled, grabbing the side of the table hard enough to make the metal frame whine when you hit a nerve with your needle, “Another man lays a fuckin’ hand on you, and he’ll wish he hadn’t.”

“Can’t have you reopening this wound, John. I worked hard on these stitches.”

“How’m I gonna sneak in to see you tonight?” He looked up at you with softer eyes, a youthful gaze on his face.

You pitied him, winking cheekily,

“Might just have to keep you here for observation.”

His whole body relaxed then, relieved in a way you hadn’t expected. You had just been kidding around, but his reaction made you change your mind. If he felt better with you in your clinic, you’d add it to the orders. The last thing you needed was your headstrong man limping through the base just for a chance at some action.

You finished up, cleaning the wound and surrounding skin, wiping down the rest of him as best you could. He was filthy, and the water in your bucket was full of sand by the time you were done. But, he still smelled like the sun and his sweat, and it was enough to make the animal part of your mind practically salver at the idea of how his skin must taste. The saltiness, full of his pheromones… you chastised yourself for even thinking about it.

He was finally asleep, full of morphine and exhausted from his ordeal. Gaz popped back in, and you told him you’d be keeping their commander overnight. You thought you’d gotten away with your little game, but there was a knowing glint in the sergeant’s eye that told you he knew more than you thought.

You tried not to stress about it. His men were loyal to him, and you knew they wouldn’t rat you out. But, still. You made a mental note to be more careful in the future.

Your bedtime routine was short and easy. You slipped into some shorts and one of John’s abandoned tee shirts. Luckily, it looked like everyone else’s tee shirt, so no one was the wiser. You could always say you stole a larger one from the supply room. But, it smelled like him, and you slept like a rock when you wore it.

You climbed into bed, and before you could even think about going to sleep, the ache between your legs reared its horny head, coaxing you to touch yourself, disguising itself as a tingle, an itch that needed to be scratched. As soon as your fingers pried apart your soft petals, you discovered the truth. You were soaking wet, and your core was hot like molten lead, giving your digits no resistance as you played with yourself, slipping them in and out of your slick folds.

You heard a noise escape from your throat against your will, and you tried to hold it back, rolling your eyes from the slam of pleasure that rushed to your head. You were dizzy with want, and even though you tried to quiet the sound, you could hear your own wet flesh popping and sluicing with more and more of your precome, preparing you for an encounter you knew you couldn’t have.

You came quickly, and without much warning, clenching down on nothing, biting your hand to keep from screaming for him. You peeked over your shoulder, and luckily, he hadn’t woken up. You thought about how nice it would feel to have his big body curled against you as you crashed into a deep slumber, the scent of your wet hand and his old shirt mixing together and lulling you to sleep.

There was no way to tell how much time had passed, but when you woke, it was still dark. Your eyes darted over to the clinic table, and John was… missing?

You sat up with a start only to find him fully naked at the end of your bed, getting ready to crawl in beside you.

“John!” You hissed, “What are you doing? You can’t be walking around.”

“Gotta have you, love. I’m so hard, it hurts.”

“You were shot in your fucking leg, Jonathan Price. Let me see the dressing.”

“Quit fussin’ over me, girl. C’mere,” he covered you with his body and grabbed your wrists, forcing you to lay beneath him, flat and vulnerable. He set to pulling away your clothes, making quick work of it, sighing raggedly when he felt your naked body beneath his own.

But, he was in pain. You could see him adjusting and readjusting, trying to figure out how he could fuck you like he wanted to, unable to find a solution.

“John,” you whispered, feeling his mouth on your neck, “We can’t. You’re going to hurt yourself. Don’t make me order you to stop.”

“I’m your commander,” he breathed, threatening you with his teeth, leaving a bruise on your sensitive skin.

“Don’t…” you gasped as his fingers found your gooey center, “Don’t confuse your rank for my authority, Captain Price. You’re under my care.”

He glared at you, coming to a pause, leaving his fingers in you to play in your hole, gently pulsing in and out, teasing you just enough to keep you on the edge,

“You want me to stop? Hm?”

The more he teased you, the more hot slick collected on his hands, sticky and clear, covering his fingers and making him harden with every moment.

Then, he took a sharp breath in through his nose, and paused, hiding his grimace in the crook of his arm. You canted your hips, removing his hand from you, fed up with his defiance,

“John, that’s enough. If you make me restitch that wound, I will have to do it without drugs. We’re out of anesthetic.”

“Please, love,” he held you close to him, letting you feel his hard length as it rolled against your tummy, making a trail of precome across your skin, “I need you. I’ve missed you so bad. Lemme fuck you. Put my cock in you.”

“Hold on,” you shifted your body so that he would turn on his side. Then, you lay opposite him, your head laying at the foot of the bed, bringing you face to face with his swollen, hungry cock.

In this position, you could suck him off, and he wouldn’t need to use his thigh.

You licked your lips, trailing them across his cockhead, collecting his salty pearls of pleasure and wearing them like gloss, suckling from his tip as softly as you could just to taunt him further.

“Ahhh, fuck…” His sigh was delicious. All of that pain and all of the stress that had made him so tense rushed out of him, making his skin pebble with bliss.

Without hesitation, John bent his head, pulling your hips to his open mouth, and wrapping your leg under his arm, eating your pussy and groaning with a lurid, feral pleasure.

The feeling of his soft lips and scruffy beard against your sensitive skin flung you into a spiral of pleasure. You could feel his warm tongue prodding and exploring through you, greedily splitting you to get to your hot, honeyed center.

You wanted more of his taste, so you went to work, stretching your jaw to accommodate his girth, taking him deeper into your throat, using your tongue to trace a wet circle around his head when you needed to catch your breath, teasing him just beneath his foreskin. When you did, his cock throbbed for you, egging you on, eager to drip its load into your mouth.

“Fuckin’ hell, love. Gonna make me come,” he threatened.

Suddenly, you felt his fingers dip back inside of you. He was aggressive with his fondling, shoving two of his thick digits deep inside of you, curling them cruelly to press upon your most pliant, responsive spot.

As he fucked you with his hand, he let his tongue lap against your clit, making you whine around his dick, muffled by his shaft. You felt his hips begin to thrust forward and back, desperately fucking your throat, getting closer and closer to releasing his orgasm inside of you.

You couldn’t wait to taste him. You wanted him to use you. You didn’t want to hurt him, but the truth was — as hungry as he was for your body — you needed him just as badly.

You felt your body begin to tense, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before he would have you coming on his hands. He kept his pace, knowing your favorite rhythm, humming to himself as he devoured you, sucking up every drop of your wetness as if he’d never drink from your tight font again.

Your toes curled, your legs tried to close in on themselves, stopped by his body trapped between them, and something snapped inside of your core, letting loose spiraling sparks of pleasure, breaking you apart over and over, only for each gentle lick from his tongue to put you back together.

“Mmhm,” he praised you, “Good girl. Just like that. Rub your come on my mouth.”

You did as you were told, no longer in the driver’s seat when it came to your body, fully trained to submit to his will. You shamelessly smeared your pussy across his bearded jaw, humping lewdly against him, all for him to whisper gratefully between licks,

“Yes, more. More. Give it to me. Fuck my mouth, love. Fuck, I love it. Fuck…”

All the while, he was thrusting into your mouth, deeper and deeper, choking you on his hardness. But, you let him. You allowed him to use you, holding onto his hips for dear life, breathing in every gap that he left, gasping for air, feeling yourself getting dizzy.

“Are you ready for me?” He groaned, peering down at you between your bodies.

You moaned something you hoped sounded like a yes, and he turned his full attention towards you. You felt his fingers leave your pussy, only to wrap themselves through your hair, sticky and messy, making a strong, merciless grip at the base of your skull.

He fucked you in earnest, then. It was gratifying to hear his satisfied grunts, and as you felt his cock swell even more, you knew he was about to come. Your mind wanted air, but your body wanted his load. You wanted to feel it slip into your throat, hot and milky, pouring down your neck like a salacious prize.

Finally, he went stock-still, and the only thing that moved was his cock. It throbbed inside of you, shooting rope after rope of heavy come down your tongue, painting your mouth white.

He removed himself from you as quick as he could, pulling your head back up to your pillow, bringing you face to face with him, whispering in an animalistic tone,

“Lemme see it, pretty girl. Open up. Let me… ahh, yes. That’s it.”

He dipped his finger into your mouth, gathering up his own orgasm onto the tip, smearing it around your lips like he was putting on your makeup.

You were panting, gasping in the air you so desperately needed, and you tried not to swallow, gathering up as much of his foaming fluid on your tongue as you could, sticking it out for him, showing him what a good girl you could be.

He took more of it onto his hand and dipped down between your legs, painting your swollen folds with his spend, mixing your come together like some ritual.

You couldn’t help but whimper. You were overstimulated and raw, and he shushed you, bringing his hand back up to play with your soft nipples,

“Shh, it’s okay, love. It’s okay. Kiss me.”

You felt his mouth crash into yours, and your own heady taste invaded your senses, folding in with his, making your body roll itself against him, begging him for more.

“Leg already feels better. C’mon, love. Give us the go ahead, hm?”

“I will tie you to this bed, John Price. Don’t test me,” you looked up at him before laying your head on his furry chest, breathing when he breathed, watching his hairy belly rise and fall.

“Promise?” He chuckled, pulling you closer and holding you there all night, unwilling to compromise, claiming you in every way he knew how. You dozed against him, sated and happy, wondering how long you could keep a secret this good.

Sorry for the wait! Work is hellish right now, but as soon as this semester is over with, I'll be posting more. Thanks for letting me know your thoughts.

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #john price #cod #captain price #captain price x you #call of duty #captain price x reader #captain price x female reader #captain john price x female reader #john price x female reader #john price smut #captain price mw2 #oh captain my captain

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sweatyracoon · 18 days

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Summary: You're on your period, and leak through your pants/shorts.

A/n: ALL members, I know I used Felix as a crutch a lot sorry

Warnings: blood mentions, suggestive (not all), language

Bangchan:

You and the eight boys had been friends ever since they debuted, meeting because you were one of the staff. You were near their age, which helped the bond.

You were particularly close with Han and Bangchan, them being so similar to you.

While filming a dance practice, you felt something painful in your abdomen, immediately making you cringe. It was too early to start, so you brushed it off as a simple pre-cramp. You continued with the camera.

During break, while the guys watched the video for mistakes, Bangchan came up next to you, gagging you from behind. He loved hugs, and you were never one to say no. He was just to comfortable.

But after a few seconds, he let his grip loosen, making you yearn to feel him again.

He didn't step up next to you; he didn't leave his place behind you. Then, you heard a noise, one like the sound of clothing being removed.

You went to turn, but Bangchan stopped you, whispering, "Don't turn, y/n. You have a red spot on your jeans."

You froze.

Sure, he was your best friend, but to go through something like this? Your ears flushed, scrunching your nose.

Then, his arms wrapped around you again, this time holding the sleeves to his sweater, wrapping it snugly around your waist.

"Here, no one will know, okay? Don't be embarrassed. After this, just go change," Bangchan finally came into view in front of you, smiling gently.

"Channie, I'm so sorry-"

"Don't be, y/n. Its normal, I get it."

"But, I don't want to ruin your sweater-" You try pleading with him, face flushed.

"It can be washed, silly. Besides-" he paused, leaning in slightly. "I don't mind a bit of blood."

Before you could become more of a mess, he grinned and turned back to the guys. Getting in their positions.

"Hey, where'd your sweater go, hyung?"

"Y/ns holding it for me. It got too hot in here,"

Lee know:

You were in the kitchen with Felix and Lee know, the two guys you considered your closest friends. They both enjoyed cooking with you, and that made you happy.

It was late, you were sporting your white tee, and a pair of shorts that were cut a bit too short, but they guys didn't care. As long as you were comfortable.

The menu was simple, sushi and ramen. Quick, but filling.

The boys worked their magic, allowing you to help with slicing or heating.

As you went to roll some rice, a cramp knocked the wind out of you, the boys noticing the sharp intake of breath.

"Y/n? You okay, noona?" Felix asked, patting your shoulder.

"Mhm," you breathed out, nodding. "Sorry. Don't worry, it's all good."

"Okay," Felix responded, reluctantly going back to what he was doing.

You were suddenly tired, rolling less and less, leaning against the counter.

You heard shuffling behind you, and then a small gasp. That's when you felt it. The small, subtle trickle running down your leg. Blood.

Before you could get any words out, you heard Minho say to Felix, "An aspirin and a pair of sweats from my room," all Felix did was nod, looking shocked.

You went to move as the said that, but Minhos arms around your waist stopped you from cleaning the blood running down your leg.

"Minho, I-" you couldn't help but cringe when you felt the wet, cold paper towel running up your inner thigh.

Minho dragged it all the way up into your shorts, making you shudder. The coldness kept you alert and aware, feeling how he was taking care of you.

"Don't let this embarrass you, Y/n. It happens, okay? Here, put your hand where mine is," he told you, waiting for you to listen.

When Felix came back with the stuff, Minho led you to his room, blocking the sight of you from anyone passing by, trying his best to protect your image.

"Thank you, Min. I really appreciate it."

"No worries,"

Changbin:

As Bangchans younger sister, you often found yourself in the company of the 8 boys. You loved them all to death and hoped they felt the same.

Changbin by far was your favorite, because he was genuine with you. You had listened to his insecurities and helped him through them, only to be rewarded with hugs and random raps. You didn't mind.

You were sitting on one of the cushioned chairs in the lounge room, waiting for the boys to finish their interview.

It was at the JYP studio, so you weren't worried, knowing they were in their element.

You sat, scrolling through IG, waiting. It had been a few hours, but these things take time.

You felt your stomach rumble, and you sighed. Perhaps there would be time for a snack while you wait. But you had no cash.

The rumbles grew louder, and that sinking feeling in your stomach grew larger, turning into a sharp pain, making you whimper.

Normally, your period isn't painful, which is why you thought it wasn't your period.

"Y/n?" You heard from in front of you.

You were so deep in thought that you didn't hear them exiting the room.

"Binnie? How'd it go?" You asked, trying your best to smile.

"Fine. But your looking pale, jagi. What's the matter?" Changbin crouched, looking at you.

"Just some stomach pains, is all," You put your hand to your stomach, grinning.

"Need a hug?" He stood, spreading his arms. "They can cure anything!" His joy made you smile, standing to capture him in a warm embrace.

Your stomach died down for a little, but you felt Changbin shift.

"Maybe not everything..." He almost sounds like he was about to laugh, making you turn to see what he was seeing.

Your eyes widened.

Where you once sat was a large red spot, staining the chair, and, most likely, your sweats, making your face flush.

"Oh my god, Bin-" you choked, embarrassed by the sight. "We need to get rid of this chair,"

"How?"

"I don't know!"

"Treat it like a dead body...Let's burn it."

You smiled, knowing he was trying to get you to calm down.

"that's...oddly specific."

He looked at you with a glint in his eye, "Let's go get you some new sweats first."

"We can't leave this here, Bin,"

He thought for a second, before taking off his leather jacket, and, gracefully, placed it over the stain.

"Better?"

Hyunjin:

You and Hyunjin didn't get along, to say the least. Jeonjin was your friend, and when you started hanging with the others, everyone but him seemed to like you.

This didn't upset you, of course, but it was unfortunate because he was hot cute.

Jeonjin, you, Felix and Hyunjin were all at an art museum, looking at his work. You loved seeing his art despite his distaste for you.

His art was real, and it had meaning. It connected with you.

But once that feeling of happiness started, it all came crashing down the moment you felt your cramps. It started. Of course.

You motioned for Felix to come over to you, him obediently leaving mid conversation with some art critiques. Hyunjin was one of them, scoffing at you.

"Felix, I just started, but I don't have a tampon with me. I think there's one in the center console of the car. Could you grab it fo-"

"I'm on it, jagi. I'll text you when I'm back, okay?" Felix didn't wait for a reply, leaving.

He was such a good friend to you, and it nearly made you cry.

You turned, making your way to the restroom, not wanting your period to leak so soon.

"Hey!" You heard, turning. Hyunjin was standing there, a displeased look in his eye. "What'd you say to Felix that made him run out like that? I was talking to him," he complained, not meeting your eye.

"Girl talk," you replied, walking back slowly, trying to reach the door.

"Girl talk?" He looked confused before looking down at your bottoms.

It only occured to you in that moment that you chose to wear white jeans and a white shirt, your ears turning red.

"Oh...girl talk," Hyunjin breathed. He looked back up to your face to see you tearing up.

You expected him to laugh, maybe even shout about it, focusing the attention on you, but his eyes softened, making your blurry eyes close.

"Here-" Hyunjin whispered, pushing you into the bathroom, making his way to a stall with you. "We're at an art show, so maybe...if you..just-" he was stuttering, waving his hands, going to touch you, but stopped mid way.

"What?" You cringe at how little you sound, waiting for him to explain.

"Maybe, smear it around...?" He shrugged, leaving them suspended as he made an interested face.

"You want me...to smear blood...all over my clothes...?" You ask, suddenly feeling overwhelmed.

"Ive always wanted to make art with blood ... I don't know-" he was interrupted by your phone.

Felix had the tampons.

"Hyunjin...Felix is at the door with my things. Definitely not tonight. But maybe, before it ends...you could use my blood if you want to," It makes you confused, saying it out loud, but seeing Hyunjins face light up makes you not doubt it.

"Okay,"

Han:

Lee know was teaching you a dance in the dance room while waiting for the others to show up for practice.

You and Lee know were close, so you spent a lot of time together.

He even knew about your crush on Han, but Han only saw you as a friend. Right? Lee know begged to differ, but he is also a tease.

You, Lee know, Bangchan and Felix were already there.

Your body cramped up a lot, so when your stomach clenched angrily, you brushed it off as being overworked. Continuing, you ignored the pain as best as you could, jumping into the next position.

When Han walked in, he caught sight of you behind Lee know, watching yourself in the mirror, focused on the routine. He admired this about you.

How your hair flopped with your movements, your face scrunched with focus, your neck glistening with sweat. He loved watching your torso, because even though you were a girl, your thrusts compared to his were so masculine, making him feel tiny.

And your ass-! He always felt the need to stair, making him think he spent too much time with Lee know.

He loved that it moved so gently at a fast pace, defining your figure. How the sweats hugged it just right before flaring at the legs. How it was painted red with your-- wait, what?

It was then that he noticed that you were on your period, and leaking. No one else seemed to notice, him being grateful in silence, not wanting to embarrass you.

Without a second thoughts and trying to not make a scene, he ran up behind you, and gave you a hug, pressing himself flush against your back.

"Y/n! I missed you!" Han said, trying to sound normal.

"Han? Come on, I was dancing, man!" You groaned, not truly bothered.

"Hey, I got some news. Wanna hear it?" This caught both yours and Lee knows attention.

"Okay...?" Han never really acted like this with you, so you were a bit confused.

"Well, then I need you to come with me," he whispered. His bag of a change of clothes and water was still slung around his arm.

"What? Why?" You giggled, seeing his expression in the mirror.

He playfully tugged you backwards, making you roll your eyes.

"Just trust me, jagi. Close your eyes, I can't have you looking," Han smiled as you listened, gently leading you backwards into the hall, and to the private restroom.

He finally let you go, telling you to open your eyes.

"Han, what are we doing in here," You asked looking at him for an answer. He looked nervous all of a sudden.

"I made sure no one saw, so before you get embarrassed, it was just me," he explained nervously, digging in his bag.

He pulled out an extra pair of pants, holding them out to you.

"Why are you giving me your pants?" You asked, taking them anyway, looking at them with confusion.

"There's...blood. On your pants. I wasn't sure if you knew-" Han said, fidgeting.

"Oh," was all you could muster before seeing that his face was flushed, his cheeks puffed out.

"Thank you, Han."

"Of course. I'll let you change,"

Felix:

Felix was your best friend. Your partner in crime. Your go-to. He was your everything. And now, you both sat, playing videogames together.

"No!" He yelled, scrambling to get back in the lead.

All you could do was laugh as you continued your pace, besting him. He groaned as you wiggled in your spot, happy to have won.

"Don't get used to it," He grinned at you, making your heart flutter.

He was extremely attractive, and even more so with his black hair. A new color, one you had yet to see on him.

"Watch me," you stuck out your tongue, it being green from your sucker.

He returned the look, his tongue displaying purple, making you laugh.

"Are you hungry? I'm going to make some popcorn," he said, standing from his spot on the floor.

Comfortable and content on his bed, you responded with, "Chips."

He nodded, making a noise of approval before leaving, making you smile. He always took care of you.

When it was time to sleep, you both snuggled on his bed, and fell into a deep sleep.

Your dream was sweet. You worked a cafe bar with your friend, Felix. You were taking an order for some girl before hearing your sunshine call you. And then again. And again.

Now, your eyes open slightly, being Shaked awake gently, Felix calling your name.

"Y/n, you need to wake up," he whispered, not wanting to worry you.

"What's wrong, Lix?" You yawned, suddenly feeling sticky.

"I think...you made a mess..." He looked down at your power half, making you squirm.

Following his gaze, you saw a large patch of blood on the bed, your shorts, and...Felix's shirt.

"ohmygod Felix..." You gasped, now more awake than ever. "I'm so sorry!"

"Shhh..It's okay, jagi, it happens," he tried calming you, seeing you tear up. "Here, I'm going to go run a bath for you, and put the sheets in the wash, okay?" He went to get up, but you caught his wrist.

"What? No, it's my mess. Let me clean it up," you said, trying to sound strong.

"Y/n. Just let me take care you you, okay?" He said, and then a cramp hit you. You gasped lightly.

Almost as if he knew your body, he bent down and placed a soft kiss on your stomach, then left to start the bath.

Seungmin:

You and Seungmin never really talked, but you both often caught the other staring. It wasn't uncommon for the group members to tease you both about it, making you both flush.

Today was one of those days.

"Seungmin, like what you see?" Changbin snickered making the two of you look away.

"Shut up," he grumbled, making his members laugh.

"Awe, come on, Min. You know you like her," Hyunjin giggled, making Seungmins eyes widen.

They continued to bicker, getting a reaction from him. You continued to stay quiet, feeling uncomfortable due to your period cramps.

You had a tampon in, but it felt heavier than usual, making you aware. The boys stood making you stand and followed them. You were at an arcade for the day, courtesy of JYP.

Splitting into teams of three, it was Jeonjin, Hyunjin, and Lee know. Second, Bangchan, Changbin and Han. Third, You, Seungmin and Felix. What could go wrong?

About an hour in, Seungmin noticed your disinterest in the games, starting to worry. You brushed it off, just saying you were tired.

And you were. You lost so much blood, it nearly made you sick.

While he and Felix were shooting at dinosaurs, you felt the wetness between your legs, making you gasp, shuddering.

The guys noticed this, stopping their game.

"Y/n? Is it...?" Felix stopped himself.

Felix was like your brother, and he knew when your period was bothersome, so, you nodded, Felix responding by getting up to leave.

He was going to get another tampon from the car.

Seungmin looked confused, looking at the two of you. Then he saw your face scrunch up in pain.

"Y/n? You okay?"

"I will be," you nod, flashing him a small smile.

He noticed you rubbing your legs together, and as he looked closer, he saw a small patch of blood. It wasn't hugely noticable, but he saw it. He grabbed your hand and led you to a secluded area with barely any people, sitting down in a chair.

Instead of you sitting next to him, however, he placed you on his lap.

"Seungmin!? What are you doing?" You gasped, shocked at his boldness

"Shhh..." He said, wrapping his arms around you, rubbing your upper and lower abdomen, making you moan. It really relieved the tension from the cramps, making your mind blur for a few moments.

"Better?" He whispered, watching your face relax.

"mhm,"

I.N.:

As Seungmins sister, you found yourself head over heels with his best friend, Jeonjin.

You and him became close, but not as close as you had hoped.

One day, in the dorms, you were all eating dinner together, but you weren't as hungry as you usually were because of your cramps. No one really noticed other than Jeonjin. He was worried because eating was one of your favorite things to do.

Why aren't you eating?

He saw you using your chopsticks to poke the food around, and that was when he took action.

"Here, jagi. Try it," he said, bring his sticks to your mouth.

You looked at him, and seeing him like this, you couldn't say no. You gently bit the food off his sticks, chewing it happily.

The sight made Jeonjin calmer, seeing you eat.

After dinner, everyone was tired, and forcing themselves to their rooms. It was just you, Jeonjin, Bangchan and Han in the main room.

"Night, everyone," you yawned standing to make your way to you and your brothers shared room.

Everyone exchanged good nights, but as Jeonjin watched you walking in the hall, he saw a large red spot on your bottom, making him call out to you.

"Yeah-?" You looked at him with sleep in your eyes.

"Change your pants,' He whispered as he walked up to you.

"Why?" You yawned again, watching his features soften.

"Because..." He hugged you, but instead of a normal hug, he let his hands brush against your ass, making you gasp.

It was so unlike him.

When he brought his hand back to show you, you saw the red liquid glistening on his hands in the poor hall light.

"Jeonjin-"

"Shh, it's okay. It doesnt bother me," he said wiping it on his own sweats, making you cringe, but in the best way possible.

"Looks like we both gotta change," You giggled.

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