#but sometimes the voice direction makes questionable choices so who knows

[hydrachea]

One thing I've come to appreciate about going into a story after having sought out or seen spoilers is that to me, it doesn't ruin my experience of the story - it changes it. That doesn't apply to all spoilers, but I've been thinking about Penacony's biggest spoiler (really, the one that so many people saw, it wasn't even treated as a spoiler anymore long before it actually dropped. Which was shitty, but a different topic).

For some, knowing Firefly and Sam were the same person before the reveal might have soured their enjoyment of the story. But since HSR's quests aren't replayable, I ended up really appreciating knowing their identity in advance, because otherwise I don't think I could have noticed some things - like Firefly's occasional little slip-ups into her more professional side, or the one that marked me most was how in both Sam's conversation with Acheron and few words with the Trailblazer pre-reveal, you can hear Firefly in Sam's tone of voice in a way you couldn't before. It really gave me a new kind of appreciation for those scenes.

(I still wish the main quests could be viewed again, though.)

[rinhaler]

I Guess I Can't State My Feelings Too Soon

Your big brother is jealous and he hates himself for it :(

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ step brother!taiju shiba x f!reader

Genre: porn! (minimal plot) Notes: my first tokyorev fic since i moved blogs wheeee did NOT think it would be taiju but i cannot stop thinking about that man Warnings: 18+, fem!reader, stepcest!, jealousy ♡, possessiveness, co-dependency, virgin!reader, male masturbation ♡, sex toys ♡, porn consumption, panty theft ♡, unhealthy relationship, power dynamics. Words: 3.5k

He often wonders if you realise how ungrateful you come across, sometimes. Not only ungrateful, but disrespectful to boot.

Do you know how hard your big brother works? You’ll say you do, if he were to ask. But he’s sure you have no idea. He shielded you from the horrors of his world as you were thrust upon him out of nowhere. His new, beautiful step-sister who’s eyes would spill tears around raised voices. What choice did he have? You’d never understand or be able to comprehend his way of life or the world he had built for himself and his family.

As your other siblings grew up and drifted away, Taiju kept you dependent on him. He made it so you had to rely on him for everything. He’s putting you through fashion school while subsidizing your very existence. He keeps you fed and clothed all in the comfort of his beautiful penthouse.

You want for nothing.

And he’s never made you feel inadequate for your obvious dependency.

He doesn’t use it as a weapon or hold it against you. He just adores you, wholly. His beautiful little sister, the sweet little darling who needs her big brother to do everything for her. It motivates him, truthfully. When things feel hard, mundane, tedious, he reminds himself who he’s doing it for.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Takashi.” you smile, giddily, waving like a schoolgirl with a crush as you watch him leave.

He waves, too. A wide grin on his face as his eyes scrunch up with joy. It soon fades, though, as he finds himself accidentally walking right into your brother’s chest. Taiju’s expression harrows, though you don’t register it as you focus on the way Takashi smiles at you before excusing himself.

You’re ungrateful, and disrespectful.

His neck and jaw jerk as he tears off his tie. He’s visibly irritated, but you’re too naïve to realise. You greet him, excitedly, though you’re soon left feeling dejected when he opts to ignore you instead.

“Get me some wine from the cellar.” he demands. Without a please or even a glance in your direction, you know something is wrong. You’ve never been one to deny him, however, slinking away to the lounge to retrieve an aged red from the wall-built cellar.

He looks at you when you return, sliding the bottle to him across the marble countertop of the kitchen island separating you. It’s a brief look, that makes your heart throb with hurt. He’s mad at you, but you don’t know why. Soft yellow eyes that only offer gentle glances are showing you a side to your brother you didn’t know existed.

His pupils are almost slitted like a wild animal, eyes you’ve never seen before where your brother is concerned. He sighs, watching the cogs clank in your brain as you try and analyse who this man is before you.

Luckily for you, he doesn’t think he’s capable of staying angry with you.

“Would you like a drink, little sister?” he questions. It stops you from thinking, momentarily.

It’s a first. He’s never let you drink before, let alone his prized cellar wine. You take a seat on the bar stool regardless, nodding excitedly at the prospect of having your first real drink with your favourite brother. He twists off the lid and slides the glass he’d gotten for himself over to you.

Your heart rate quickens as his eyes, those same, predatory eyes, remain fixated on you as he pours. The wine spills like blood, sloshing into your glass until it’s halfway full. And somehow, without even watching what he’s doing, he managed to not spill a drop.

He takes off his blazer and sets it down on the counter. You watch him as he rolls up his sleeves and turns away from you to fetch another glass for himself. His muscles flex and you see his exposed, veiny arms sheen with sweat as he reaches up to grab the nearest glass.

“Pour it for me.” he tells you, setting it down as he turns to face you again. His eyes seem tired, now, but still unfamiliar to you. And so you find yourself nodding, doing exactly what your big brother has asked as your hairline begins to form beads of sweat.

You don’t look at him, not even briefly, as you start to pour. You’re slow and patient, but you feel him staring at you all the while. And it’s menacing. Even with patience and focus, you spill a drop onto the pristine marble.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him.

You move to find something to wipe it up with, but he stops you before you can even jump down from the stool. He presses his thick thumb into the cherry red liquid, seemingly absorbing it all before he raises it to his lips. You watch keenly as your brother’s tongue juts seductively from his lips before he meticulously licks over the pad of his thumb to taste it.

He clears his throat and leans across countertop.

You feel so small.

“Was that your boyfriend?” he wonders, eyes glued to you as he speaks with a low, gravelly tone. He sips soon after, making mental notes of your responses as you process his words.

“U-Um, no, Taiju,” you shake your head. You feel blistering heat in your face as you think about your classmate, and the intimate thoughts you’ve had about him for weeks now, all while your brother’s attention is entirely fixed on you. “We’re in the same class! He came to drop off some books he thought might help me.”

It’s a confession that is entirely the truth. He isn’t your boyfriend and you’re sure he never will be. Not unless he makes the first move, that is. You’re far too shy to even suggest that your feelings for him a more intense than they should be for simple classmates. Taiju nods, finally looking away from you as he takes another drink.

“Finish up and go to bed.” he commands.

You nod, too nervous to argue. You’ve never seen him like this or even heard him be so curt with you. It won’t bother you to go to bed, not one bit. Hopefully tomorrow he’ll be back to his usual, loving self.

He leaves you alone as he strides towards his study, finally giving you the chance to breathe. You knock back the remainder of your wine and pick up your book bag and school supplies, your pace hastening as you get closer to your room.

“Oi.” Taiju speaks, voice booming through the hallway before you can open the door to your bedroom. He leans against the doorframe to his office, arms folded as his eyes squint at you. “If you want to have people over, clear it with me first.” he demands.

“Oh,” you sigh, and it’s riddled with relief as you realise that is what the problem has been all along. He’s upset you’ve invited a stranger into his home without asking. It’s understandable, and you’re soon smiling again as you look at him. “Of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d mind.” you admit, regretting it almost instantly as it soon feels irrelevant to have said.

“I don’t want boys I don’t know here alone with my little sister.” he tells you.

He approaches, and your anxiety soars once again as you sense a looming threat in the air and the shortening distance between the two of you. He smirks as he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, your breath hitching at the contact while he forces you to look into his saffron gaze.

“You are very dear to me,” he confesses, “If anyone were to take advantage of you… well. You’re going to do as I ask next time, aren’t you? We won’t have to worry about that.”

“Of course… I’m so sorry, I should have—”

“You should.” he snarls. “But I forgive you. Go to bed, now.”

You nod, feeling slightly more upbeat after hearing he’s accepted your apology. He stops you from retreating to your room, though. His large, heavy hand encasing your forearm in a tight grip whilst his thumb still caresses your chin. It drifts, though, pulling the fat of your lower lip before he pulls it away. He taps his own lip twice, his expression still unamused as he looks at you.

“A goodnight kiss, princess,” he orders. You nod, it’s not out of the ordinary to kiss him goodnight. You stand on your tip toes before leaning in to peck his lips. They’re soft, and fit against yours beautifully as both of your eyes close during the contact. It’s chaste, to the point, and yet you’ve never felt an intensity during a kiss from him like you have just now.

His eyes are gentle, again. And the smile he offers is earnest. He kisses your cheek before you go, whispering in your ear sensually enough for a chill to traverse down your spine.

“Good girl.”

He opens the door to your room, remaining in place until you go inside. He shuts it after you get inside, leaning his back against the nearest wall as his head thuds against it. The cold metal of his rings cools down his flushed face, though he finds himself breathless.

Not from the act of a simple kiss, it’s the shame. Feelings for you, his sweet little sister, bubbling to the surface despite trying to repress them for so many years. He’s jealous and he’s ashamed of himself for letting things go this far. But you are his.

His sister.

His responsibility.

His property.

“Jesus Christ—”

He catches himself. He kicks away from the wall and rakes his fingers through tousled hair as he decides to distract himself with work in his office.

It’s taken blood and sweat to reach what he’s achieved. From being a sixteen year old menace to society, he’s now a highly respectable businessman with a chain of restaurants under his belt. Among other, less legal sources of income, of course.

It’s all for you.

As he looks through business expenses and documents from his lawyers, all he can think of is you.

It’s all been for you.

It’s always been for you.

He pushes his hair out of his face, noticing how it’s starting to cling to his forehead as he sweats profusely. Thoughts of you plaguing his every thought. His cock begins to throb in his slacks. His eyes drift from the papers scattered across his desk to his computer monitor. And then, slowly, they sink to the locked top drawer of his desk.

“Fuck,” he mutters. He ignores the drawer, instead, deciding to ignore his responsibilities as he types Pornhub in the search engine. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he speaks, exasperated as the homepage is flooded with an assortment of trending step sibling videos.

His heart pounds as he scrolls for a while, but eventually finds the willpower to click away, opting to find something else. He’s a simple man with simple taste. He’s always been into rougher stuff, deciding something along those lines will be best to quickly rub one out and clear his mind so he can focus on what he actually needs to be getting on with.

He clicks on a video, immediately cringing at the corny plot and dialogue as he unbuttons his shirt and rids himself of his belt. He’s panting as he pulls out his cock. If he’s been honest, his cock has been leaking since you fetched his wine so obediently.

He hisses when he realises he’s thinking about you again.

And soon enough he’s willing himself to concentrate on the girl in the video getting fucked within an inch of her life. It’s loud, rough, aggressive. Just how he likes. He tugs desperately, a vein popping in his forehead as he eagerly tries to get off to what he’s seeing.

It’s your fault.

He’s wondering if you’d ever be into fucking like this. He’s sure you’re a virgin, so he’d have to be careful with you at first.

“Fucking stop,” he whines.

He wants to cum to her, the girl in the video. It’s a lie, though. He wants to cum to you. He wants to hear how gorgeous you’d sound if he were the one to defile you for your very first time. Your own step brother, infiltrating your walls and making you cum around his cock.

“Shit,” he keeps trying to concentrate on her. His eyes soon wandering to the locked drawer again. He glances one final time at the video, grunting as he continues to fuck his fist until ultimately giving up.

He searches something new. Something he’s never beat one off to before. Softcore virgin. He grimaces as his finger hovers above the enter key, he knows he won’t be able to finish otherwise, but part of him thinks it’s not too late to turn back. His eyes widen slightly, taken aback by the sheer amount of results that are step-sibling videos. He considers it, again. He really does, but as he continues to scroll, he starts to take an interest in the masturbation videos.

The soft, feminine moans immediately make his cock jump. It’s perfect, it’s so sickeningly perfect because he can pretend it’s you. And if he’s this far gone, he feels no need to deprive himself anymore. He lifts up his keyboard, sliding the locked drawer key from a hidden compartment underneath. His hands are practically shaking as he tries to slide it into the slot. He quickly turns, breathing heavily as he almost rips the drawer from its place as he opens it.

He scoffs as his hand flies to a clear fleshlight, yanking it out and setting it down on his desk before he retrieves what he’s really been avoiding this whole time.

You’ve never had to do laundry, and he doesn’t do it either. He hires staff to come through the week to do tedious things like cleaning the apartment and washing dirty clothes. It’s been about a fortnight since he saw an opportunity laid bare before him.

You were at school, a fact now he’s growing to despise as he imagines you flirting with Takashi Mitsuya during your classes. But he was working from home, too irritated to handle business dealings in person on that particular Thursday. And he happened to see a maid emerge from your room with a laundry basket, a frilly pink thong atop a pile of outfits you’d worn through the week to college.

He wrestled with himself, he did.

But it wasn’t too difficult to distract the maid for long enough to pocket them for himself.

The video continues to play, his cock gushing as he stares down at your panties. He’s too far gone. He’s too aroused and his mind is muddied as he thinks about everything going on in his life and yours. You’re too honest to lie, Mitsuya isn’t your boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean he’ll never be.

He snatches the thong and strokes his cock with it in hand. His eyes roll back, a broken moan leaving his lips as he continues to pleasure himself. He stops abruptly, though, as the woman in the video he’s watching stops teasing her clit. She shows off a dildo, slowly rubbing it through her wet folds until she eventually begins to push it inside of herself.

She’s cute, but she isn’t you.

If he closes his eyes, however, she is. He looks to his fleshlight, deeming this the closest he’ll get to fucking you no matter how desperately he yearns for it. He carefully guides his tip into the plastic pussy, moaning a little louder than intended as he bottoms out.

He bites his lip as he recalls the woman in the store squeezing her thighs together as she helped him pick the toy out. It makes him laugh, briefly, as he recalls how forward she had been. He fucked her in the changing rooms as she insisted she’d need to see what he was packing so that she could help him pick the perfect model.

She sent him away with the biggest size.

Your pussy won’t feel like this, though. He’s certain you won’t be so generous and accommodating. Your tight little virgin cunt will fight against him, but he’ll make it fit.

“Jesus, fuck—” he groans, admitting defeat for the final time as he brings your panties to his face and almost suffocates himself with the material.

His chest swells as he inhales, before it deflates with shuddering breaths as he savours the scent of your used unmentionables. He picks up the pace with his toy in tandem with the woman in the video. His moans are boisterous and uncaring, he’s lost the ability to feel shame as he imagines you bouncing on his cock crying his name and trying to become accustomed to his length.

He needs it more than air.

He needs it more than he needs to fucking breathe.

“Shit, ah—” he grunts, he bites his lip as he continues to pound into the fucktoy in his grip. He grunts stridently as he spurts into the fleshlight. He watches through heavy, lidded eyes at the clear plastic, watching how his balls tighten and deposit his creamy load into the faux pussy. “Fuck, Taiju.” he sighs, but laughs as he slowly begins to stroke himself with the toy. He hisses, feeling sensitive from his release as he milks himself of every last drop he can drain.

He exhales breathlessly once he’s done. His chest rising and falling as he allows his body to melt into his leather chair. He looks around the room, and he looks at himself. The crushing reality of what he’s just done weighs down on him. He’s spent, but finds enough energy to put your panties back in the drawer, locking it promptly.

The fleshlight, on the other hand, he leaves out after making space for it on his desk. He winces as it rolls and his sperm begins to drip out onto the glossy, chestnut tabletop. The comedown from is euphoria is like reaching a new low. He can’t even bear to look at the scene of his filthy indiscretion any longer.

But as he’s about to stand, the door swings open.

“Taiju?” you pout.

He scrambles to hide his exposed lower half under his desk and dump some of the papers littering his desk over the sticky fleshlight. He can’t hide the grimace on his face as the corner of one of his documents begin dampen from his cum.

“O-Oh, sorry, I forgot to knock… I should have knocked.”

“Yes, you should.” He says, gruffly, “What is it?”

You’re quiet, allowing your sock covered foot to glide across the wood flooring as you awkwardly look down at them. It’s not like you’re scared to talk to your brother, but you know he doesn’t like to be interrupted when he’s in here. And you don’t want to embarrass him.

“Answer.” his order startles you, his voice almost thunderous as he commands your attention. Your eyes fill with water, but you bat the tears away as you speak.

“I thought I heard you yelling. Or… in pain.” you tell him, voice below a whisper as you confess you’ve been unintentionally listening. “I thought you might have hurt yourself.”

Pink dusts over his face, you can even see it from only the light of the monitor. He looks around, suspiciously, though you don’t notice or comment on it.

“Why were you listening to me? Can’t you sleep?” he wonders. “… Don’t worry. I’m fine.” he assures you.

“I was worried. A-About earlier. I don’t like it when you’re mad at me… I promise I haven’t got a boyfriend and I’ll never bring anyone here without permission again.”

He smirks at that, all of his teeth bared and you still don’t understand what kind of sick depraved man your big brother really is. Maybe you aren’t as ungrateful or disrespectful as he thought; it was wrong of him to even assume that when you’ve been nothing but a doll the whole time he’s known you.

You poor thing.

You’ve been fretting over your brother’s wellbeing and state of mind since he sent you to bed so long ago. He’s been on your mind this whole time. You’re more like your big brother than you even realise, he thinks.

You’re so timid.

So obedient.

So good.

“You must be so tired, princess…” he coos, and you nod dumbly. He tuts, feeling sorry for your innocent nature and naivety, but sweet little you thinks he’s sympathetic to your exhaustion. “Do you want me to help you sleep? Shall I play with your hair like I used to when we were younger?”

“Really?” you ask, eyes lighting up at the proposition.

“Of course,” he nods, grinning wildly. “What are big brothers for?”

© 2024 rinhaler

[beomboomboom]

Important

genre: fluff, angst, established relationship

pairing: idol!Jihoon x reader

summary: Jihoon is a busy guy, everyone knows that. But why does it hurt so much when he can't even make time for his own girlfriend? All you want is Jihoon's love and affection, why is that so difficult?

warnings: a bit of swearing

note: This fic includes some lyrics from the song All My Love by SEVENTEEN (If you haven't heard this song, I strongly recommend you listen to it. It's such a good song!!) I hope you enjoy reading the fic <33

"Am I really that important to you?"

There's tears in your eyes when you ask Jihoon the question you've been wondering about for the past few weeks.

Part of you knows you're just being irrational. Jihoon has other things he needs to focus on. He's an idol and a producer for fucks sake, it's practically guaranteed that he's going to be busy with work 24/7. So it's unrealistic for you to expect him to be able to make time for you whenever you feel the need for some company.

But the other part of you feels lonely. Coming home everyday to the sight of an empty apartment without Jihoon isn't exactly the most uplifting sight to see. And even when Jihoon on the rare occasion, does come home, all you are able to see is his passed out figure before he leaves in the morning while you still sleep.

All you want is Jihoon's love and affection, why is that so hard?

You receive your answer to that very question in the way Jihoon sits in a distracted silence when he hears your question. His eyes looking at his computer in a daze, too busy thinking up of ideas for new songs to produce rather than looking at the way you're about to burst into tears.

"Fine. If you can't even give me one second of your time and focus I'm going to leave," you yell angrily as more tears spring into your eyes. You quickly stand up from your position on Jihoon's couch and exit his studio, slamming the door behind you.

"WAI-" Jihoon starts to shout, finally finding his voice. His eyes widen while his hand is outstretched toward the direction of his door as if it's going to make you come back.

But it's too late.

You're gone.

Jihoon knows he fucked up.

More than that actually.

He knows that it's his fault your relationship with him feels so one-sided. He has a habit of overworking himself. Oftentimes minutes in the studio turning into hours before turning into days of being cooped up producing songs, causing him to neglect the very people he wants to spend all his time with.

Jihoon wishes he could tell you how much he loves you, that he's not trying to neglect you on purpose. He just sometimes gets caught up in his work and doesn't realize when it's time to take a break. He wishes he could tell you that he misses you as much as you miss him, even though he doesn't show it.

But now he has no idea what he could possibly do to solve the predicament he's in. Jihoon could talk with you, but he knows he's not the best with confrontation. Jihoon could give you a few days of space, but he knows that it's probably not the best choice since the whole reason you got mad was because Jihoon wasn't around you enough.

So, Jihoon turns to what he's best at doing. What he does when he doesn't have a clue on what to do.

Songwriting.

Sometimes he'll write songs for his members, comforting them through his lyrics. Other times he'll write songs for Carats, wanting to share with them some encouraging and happy tunes.

But this time, he's writing a song for you.

Jihoon knows that writing a song for you won't make you forgive him instantly, but the most he can do is try to make things better a little bit at a time.

It's 3 in the morning when you hear a knock at your front door. As the rain falls softly on your window, the only question that on your mind is, who the heck is outside your house at such an ungodly hour?

Feet shuffling along the cold floor, you sleepily walk over to your door and open it. Your sleepy eyes are still trying to make sense of the situation when Jihoon stands outside your apartment door.

In front of you stands a drenched Jihoon with puffy red eyes carrying his signature black backpack that is absolutely ginormous on him.

"Jihoon? What are you doing here?"

Mumbling something incoherently, you watch, still half-awake, as Jihoon slowly walks up to you and gently wraps his arms around you.

As you feel the wetness from Jihoon's shirt begin to seep into your own shirt, you try to softly push Jihoon away. But that only makes Jihoon hug you tighter. "Don't go...,"you hear him mumble as he presses his face into the crook of your neck, and that's when you realize that Jihoon is crying.

You're torn.

Seeing your boyfriend cry is a rare occurence and as much as you want to hug him tightly and kiss away all his tears, you want to run away because how can he come back to your apartment as if nothing had happened in these past few months.

"I'm sorry," Jihoon says, his voice cracking and mouth quivering, as he cries, letting his tears drop messily into the fabric of your shirt.

Taking Jihoon's face in your hands, you quietly rub away his tears which only makes him cry harder. Leaning into your touch, he takes hold of your wrist and gently rubs it. "I-I'm really sorry. You don't deserve a terrible boyfriend like me."

"No, don't say that. You know what, how about I get you a towel so that you can dry yourself off and then we can talk more, okay?

"Okay"

By the time you return from the bathroom, towel in hand, Jihoon is sitting on the couch and pulling his computer out of his bag. "oh...are you going to be working more?"

He can hear the disappointment in your voice when you ask the question, you're so used to him working all the time that you're not even angry ... you're just disappointed. Jihoon feels a wave of guilt wash over him as he realizes that all the things you said to him before were true, he was just too busy to realize it.

"Ah, no. I have something to show you," Jihoon says with a tired smile as he pats the seat on the couch beside him, inviting you to sit.

Hesitant, you take a seat next to your boyfriend and look at his computer screen where you can see him open a file. You then watch as Jihoon pulls out a pair of earphones and plugs them into the computer.

Putting the earbuds into your ears, Jihoon presses play as his eyes shake, nervously watching your face for any kind of reaction.

The second the melody of the song plays into your ears, you feel like crying out of disbelief. "You made a song for me?" you ask, suprise etched all over your face, as you look towards Jihoon's direction.

Nodding with a small but nervous smile, Jihoon then motions for you to continue listening.

And it's when you reach the part of the song where you can hear the lyrics sung by the sweet honey voice of your boyfriend, when you begin to cry.

Just likе a pouring meteor shower Please be the light in the dark sky I can do everything for you For you I just want to give you everything And that makes me feel small, a fool who only accepts It suddenly makes me hate myself And makes me feel sorrier towards you

"Oh- Jihoon-," you start to say with tears in your eyes as you close the gap between you and Jihoon and give him a tight hug, your face pressed against his chest. "This is beautiful," you continue on to say sincerely.

Blushing, Jihoon quietly mutters with a nervous laugh, "you haven't even finished the song, listen to what i'm trying to say."

Following Jihoon's instructions, you lean on him and quickly refocus your attention back on the song.

Though it was hard writing my feelings down And all I have is this song and these lyrics For you, for you, for you, for you I sing this song for you tonight So I can get closer to your love

My love only amounts to this But my feelings will never change, for you baby Even if my love only amounts to this I'll be your umbrella in the rain I'll protect you on all your days

By the time you finish listening to Jihoon's song for you, you're in shambles. "fuck- Jihoon, I love you so much you know? I'm still mad at you but I still love you so much," you say as tears roll down your cheeks. Pressing your forehead against Jihoon's, you lean in to give him a chaste kiss on the lips.

Jihoon freezes for a moment before immediately tugging you closer to his body and reciprocating your kiss. "I don't deserve someone as precious as you,"he whispers before devouring your lips into another kiss.

When both you and Jihoon finally break away from each other to get some oxygen into your lungs, Jihoon gently takes your hands into his own. "I-I'm really sorry though. I was a terrible boyfriend these past few months, but I'm going to work on trying to improve myself. Even though I'll probably be busy with producing songs, i'll try to make time for you."

You let out a relived smile when you hear Jihoon's sincere words. "Okay, and I understand if you need time for other things too."

Jihoon gives you a small nod and a smile. "And to answer your previous question, of course you're important to me. For fucks sake you're my girlfriend, you're one of the most important people in my life. How can you not be important to me?" Jihoon says while cupping your face before continuing on to say," just because I don't show it, doesn't mean I don't feel it."

"I love you," he finally whispers with a smile as he places a small peck on your lips.

[bluejutdae]

Desperate Jisung x you

(more of desperate Ji)

warnings: nsfw

Desperate Jisung away on tour who misses you, misses your kisses and your voice and misses waking up with you. He misses waking up and snuggling into your arms, always so warm and comfortable, misses kissing your shoulder and your neck, waking you up with soft kisses that tickle you. It’s his safe space, and he’d love to live there.

Desperate Jisung who wakes up with a boner more mornings than not, often he has dreamt of you, sometimes he just misses you.

Desperate Jisung who tries to make do with his hands and fingers, wet and messy when he has the time and he’s alone. Fast and quiet in the showers, when they have a packed schedule and the others are around. It’s never enough. His fingers can’t reach where yours can, his palm is too rough around his shaft, and it’s overall less pleasing. It takes the edge off, but it’s also so much easier for him to grow frustrated and too horny.

Desperate Jisung who falls asleep in Minho’s bed one night, in need of some human contact during the late hours of the night, and is woken up but a pillow smashing on his face, and a grumpy Minho threatening him to stop moaning your name in his sleep if he doesn’t want to end up in the air fryer with Hyunjin.

Desperate Jisung who calls you, one night, excited to tell you all about their last concert and the rare couple of free days they have ahead of them, how they’ll visit the city and enjoy the local food, sleep a little more than usual. But your voice is doing something to him, your sweet voice through the speakers is intimate and one of the things he loves the most about you. Poor Hannie can’t help but feel his little cock stir into his pajama pants, and he tries to ignore it, he really does. But he misses you so much and he’s just so horny for you, it’s not his fault your voice sounds so nice. He has no choice but to lightly paw at his leaking cock, still in the confines of his boxer.

Desperate Jisung with his hands massaging his cock, trying to keep track of what you’re saying but too distracted to answer. After you repeat a question he tries, he really tries, but all he can utter in lieu of an answer is a whiny sound. And you know him too well, you know what your boyfriend is doing right now, you know what he needs. “Is my baby touching himself while on the phone with me?” Another whiny sound escapes his mouth. “Such a slutty boy.”

Desperate Jisung, whose cock is leaking like a faucet in his underwear, red tip wet and begging to be touched more. He can’t control his hips, thrusting in the air and against his hand, biting his lips to try and hold off his moans, failing.

Desperate Jisung who gives up completely and begs you for something, directions, instructions. “Put your phone where I can see you, pretty boy, and video call me.” He’s eager, always so eager and slutty. Propping his phone where you can see his whole body, taking off his pajama and underwear but not his sweatshirt, he knows how much you love him in nothing but a big shirt, and he’s suddenly so polite, informing you he did what you ask and he’s ready, he presses the video call button and when he sees your face on the display, he bites his lower lip. “You look so pretty.” he says, and he’s already out of breath.

Desperate Jisung showing you his pretty tummy and his chest, biting the hem of the shirt to keep it raised, touching himself like he’s showing off for you, touching slowly, from base to tip. He collects a bead of precum to his finger to show it to you and, when you order him to taste it, he obeys, moaning around the digits like it’s the tastiest thing ever. He’s such an exhibitionist, but you love him for that too.

Desperate Jisung who turns to stand on his knees, ass up and directed to the camera, face squished against the duvet and lubed fingers prodding at his pretty hole. He loves to show off for you, he knows you love to watch him, and you tell him as much, praising him for being such a good boy for you. “My pretty pretty boy. Look at you, with your pretty ass hungry for something. Such a perfect slut.” He moans, tries to bite the duvet to suppress the noise, but he loves the praises and the humiliation a little too much.

Desperate Jisung who follows everything you say, opens himself with lubed fingers, still heads down and ass up to show you his fluttering hole, hands holding his cheeks apart until you deem it’s enough. He takes his pink glass dildo when you tell him to. It’s a gift you bought for him, a delicate pink glass dildo with red hearts, not too long and not too thick, the perfect size to make your boyfriend lose his mind. You played with it multiple times, and he chose to bring that on tour because he loves it's something you personally chose for him.

Desperate Jisung who fuck himself with the dildo, knees spread open and back arched, his cock heavy between his legs and his whole gripping the glass of the dildo, hungry and wet. His moans and whines are the best things you’ve ever heard in your life, they’re high and short and they’re driving you mad. He’s leaking on the bed cover, a constant dripping of clear fluid, swinging back and forth with every movement of your pretty boyfriend.

Desperate Jisung who begs you to let him cum, to make him feel good cause he’s been such a good boy, and he deserves it and please please let me cum, please mommy please feels so good I wanna cum let me cum. And you can never be too mean to him, not when he’s like that, pliant and obedient and too far from you. So you give him permission and he rewards you with a beautiful loud moan and a full body shudder, his cock jumping and spurting cum without needing to be touched.

Desperate Jisung who collapses on top of the mess he just made and he musters up enough force to move and look at you through the camera. “Did I do good?” he asks and he sounds so soft and vulnerable. “You did perfectly, my baby. You’re the best baby ever. I love you so much. You were perfect for me, love, you’re so beautiful. You’re always so beautiful. I miss you so much.”

Desperate Jisung who obeys once more, cleaning himself and scarcely wiping the bed covers. Once he’s done, he brings the phone closer and snuggles under the covers, looking at you with his pretty eyes, tired and completely satisfied after many days of unsatisfying orgasms. “I miss you too…” he says like it’s a confession. “I know. But you’ll be home soon. And I’ll be here, ready to steal you away from everything.”

Desperate Jisung who smiles softly and sleepy, he murmurs something that sounds like an I love you, and he’s out like a light. Soft snores are the only sounds you can hear now, and you smile to yourself: your boyfriend is a horny menace, and you love him more than words can express.

[redskull199987]

Happy Tears

11th Doctor x fem!reader Word Count:1.7k Warnings:none at all, all fluffy. This is set in the first episode of season 7, so also no spoilers Summary:You knew that the Doctor was alive. Not only because you refused to believe that he was dead, but also because River told you that he wasn’t. The only question was, If he would return… Masterlist

The Doctor didn’t plan on returning. He really didn’t. He thought it would be safer for them. For Amy and Rory. And for you. He believed that it was his duty to protect his friends. And he did that in keeping his distance.

But were you really just a friend? Was that really all you were to him? He remembered the day he met you, as if it were yesterday. When he still had another face. Just a young girl with a pure heart and no idea whatsoever to do with her life. And the Doctor just came along and swooped you away. Quite literally, as he had to save you from an exploding building. It always made him smile, when he remembered with how much confidence you jumped off that roof and into his Tardis. 

And he was there to catch you. He would always be there to catch you. He knew that and so did you. 

In fact, the Doctor was embarrassingly aware of how often he looked after you, visiting you without telling you, just admiring you from afar and making sure, that you were safe. He sometimes even saw you with the Ponds. On coffee dates with Amy or cruising around with Rory in his new Car. 

Or simply just for Christmas Dinner. 

And that was exactly what brought him back. Christmas Dinner. He wasn’t sure if this really was the right choice, but he knew he had to try. To at least keep in contact with you. Who knows, maybe even take you on an adventure or two. 

His two hearts were beating rapidly, as he made his way out of the Tardis. The dark Blue front door of the Ponds immediately catching his attention. And he was about to go knock, when he decided to look back at the Tardis one last time, pondering if he should leave again. But what he saw instead, caused his breathing to stagger for a second.

There you were. Just walking down the street, probably on your way to the Ponds. Just like the Doctor. He slowly walked back onto the street again and took in your appearance. A big fluffy coat covered most of your body. He could barely see your black boots underneath it. He couldn’t prevent the chuckle that left his lips, as he realized that you were wearing a long multi-colored scarf that was tightly wrapped around you. Your gaze was directed to the floor, while you slowly walked towards him. A pair of big headphones sat atop of your head, which was probably the reason why you didn’t see him yet. 

The Doctor just stood there for a few seconds, enjoying this moment. The knowledge, that you would see him in a few moments and sprint towards him, probably with tears in your eyes, as he could finally hug you again. Feel your body against his, hear your sweet voice again. Oh and your eyes, your big curious eyes would finally look at him, with the most adoration, he had ever felt in his life. 

It seemed that the doctor got too caught up in his thoughts of you. Only when you called out to him, he snapped back into reality.

“Doctor?”, You asked nervously, your voice breaking slightly.

But the Doctor didn’t say a word, he only smiled at you and opened his arms. And as he predicted, You immediately ran towards him and when your body collided with his, it almost took him off his feet. But after a few seconds, he managed to find his footing again. The smile on his lips only got bigger, as he heard your relived chuckle, while you held onto him tightly. 

After a few moments of intensely hugging each other, the two of you finally parted again. The Doctor looked down at you, his smile bigger than ever and his eyes practically glowing. His hands were still laying on top of your shoulders. He finally had you back. After all this time of traveling alone, he finally had you back.

“Hello? Earth to Timelord?!”, you suddenly said, waving a hand in front of his face, startling him slightly. You could only chuckle at his reaction:”You haven’t changed a bit, Doctor.”

“Is that good or bad?”, he asked curiously. You could hear a bit of nervousness lingering in his voice, while his gaze slowly drifted from your eyes to your lips.

“Oh Doctor.”, You chided, your hand rising to grasp his cheek,”No matter how much you change, you’ll always be my Doctor.”

All of a sudden, the Doctor seemed to find his confidence again and a smirk appeared on his face:”Your Doctor?”

“Ehm, I-I mean…”, you stuttered helplessly, looking down while you felt heat creeping up your neck and all the way to your cheeks,”You know what I mean, Doctor.”

“Do I now?”, he teased further. But your breath stocked, as he suddenly grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand back to rest on his cheek. You looked back up at him, confusion written all over your face.

“I do.”, he finally said, after a few seconds of Silence. A content smile graced his features, while he slowly leaned closer to you:”The Question is, do you?”

His words were hushed and gentle, only for you to hear. His gaze was focused on your lips only and it seemed like he waited for permission.

“I do.”

That was all he needed. He pressed his lips against yours tenderly. Almost afraid that you would push him away again. But you didn’t. On the contrary, your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, while you deepened the kiss.

The Doctor, a bit surprised by your reaction, wildy waved his hands around for a second, before he finally decided to rest them on your waist. His touch was soft, treating you like you were porcelain. It was similar to his kiss.

When the two of you had to part, the need for oxygen finally becoming too overwhelming, both of you were panting rapidly, but still holding onto each other for dear life.

“It was about time, wasn’t it?”, You asked after you had caught your breath again. The Doctor could only nod, before he leaned in again, kissing you softly on your forehead.

“I’ll always…always be here for you.”, the Doctor mumbled,”I’ll alway protect you.”

You watched how a tear ran down his cheek. You gently raised your hand again and wiped it away.

“Look at you.”, you smiled,”Happy tears, that’s a first, isn’t it?”

“There’s a first time for everything, I suppose.”, he agreed, while pulling you closer again. for one last time, he pressed his lips to yours. It only lasted a few seconds, but it made you long for more. 

Only now, as you were about to knock at the Pond’s door, probably bringing them the biggest surprise in their life yet, you spotted something behind the Doctor.

“You know what?”, you said, patting his chest lovingly, “You go say hi to the Ponds, I’ll say hy to the Tardis.”

The Doctor could only smile at you:”She missed you almost as much as I did.”

“Of course she did.”, You grinned before sprinting towards the Time Machine.

You took in her form. She looked exactly the same, but it still made your heart flutter. You hastily pulled out your Tardis key, that you always carried with you, just in case, and quickly opened the door. You took a deep breath in, before stepping inside. Almost immediately, you heard the familiar humming coming from the console. 

“Oh I missed you too, old girl.”, You smiled, quickly ascending the stairs to look around.

”He’s taken good care of you, hasn’t he?”, you breathed out, while taking in the familiar surroundings. It felt so good to be back.

“And you took good care of him, hm?”, You whispered, your hand now resting on the console. You heard the distant humming again and you took it as a yes. Before you could say anything more, the monitor suddenly came swinging towards you. You quickly ducked away, afraid you might hit your head.

“You want to show me someth-”, Your voice died down, as you saw it. The small picture of you, taped to the edge of the monitor. It was the day, the Doctor took you onto your first adventure together. You looked so young, you almost couldn’t belive your eyes. 

“Thank you, old girl.”, You smiled contently, before quickly making your way outside again.

You couldn’t stop the laugh that left your lips, as you saw the Doctor and Amy in her doorway, just staring at each other, both too stubborn to hug first. You swiftly jogged over to them.

”Just hug already!”, you shouted, while simultaneously pushing the Doctor against Amy, forcing both of them to hug. Laughing erupted in the hallway, while the two fo them finally hugged.

“Rory?!”, You questioned into the kitchen,”Look who finally showed up!”

Only seconds later, Rory’s head popped out of the Kitchen. A smile soon appeared on his lips, as he saw who your entourage was.

“Was about time.”, he chuckled, patting the Doctors shoulder,”Come on, we were about to eat.”

“If it doesn’t cause too much trouble.”, The Doctor said nervously, while searching for your eyes for help.

“Oh don’t worry.”, You chided.

“Yeah, she’s right.”, Amy agreed,”We always set up a place for you. Come on.”

With that, the Ponds walked back into the kitchen, while you and the Doctor remained in the hallway for a few more moments.

“Oh Doctor. We already had that today, didn’t we?”, You chuckled softly as you raised your hand again to wipe away his tears,”You know, I could get used to you happy crying.”

His entire face changed in seconds,”Don’t you dare.”, without another word, he pecked your cheek before following the Ponds into the Kitchen. You could hear the sound of their laughter chiming into the hallway.

A content smile sat on your Face. You were finally home, together with the people you loved most.

[goldustwomun]

all of me wants all of you (s.b.)

pairing: sirius black x younger potter!reader

summary: something about your relationship with sirius black had never sit quite right with you, and now that he's back after two years of travelling the world, you're beginning to think that you'll soon find out what'll happens if the two of you finally fall over the edge of whatever precipice you've been teetering close to all these years. plus, you've got to work with him all summer, so what's the worst that could happen?

warnings: angst so much angst, some healing as well, hugs from a concerned mother, more angst, more angst, fluff?, actual communication omg, do you ever meet someone's eyes and just one look from them has you breaking down and bawling, yeah :) , not proofread but i'll do it in the morning!!

wc: 3.3k+

note: i've been on some sort of writing kick so enjoy these daily updates D: anyway can y'all tell i'm MISSING my mum. only four more weeks though! x

pt i. / pt ii. / pt iii.

You were elbow deep in a sink of dirty dishes, your Mum towelling dry the plates next to you, when you finally came out and said it.

“Am I a disappointment, Mum?”

She froze right there, arms poised and plate hovering mid-air. It was only a second later when she recovered, gently placing the dish on the counter when she turned to look at you. Her head was titled in that concerned way of hers, and you’re not sure what it was about the look in her eyes – of hurt and worry and love – but the tears started flowing right then and there.

“Oh, my love, how could you ever think that?” she questioned, tugging you into her arms, not caring about the water from your hands or the tears from your eyes soaking her new cotton dress. She smelled of chamomile tea and custard creams and home. And as much as you thought you hated her sometimes; her reassurance was what you needed most when the world seemed out to get you.

“You could never disappoint me or Da’, you know that.” She pulled back, forcing you to look up into her eyes, noticing the shimmer across her own irises. “Tell me you know that my sweetest girl.”

“I—” and your voice broke but you kept going— “I don’t know if I do.” With a deep breath you tried to explain it all. “It just seems like everyone hates me sometimes. And I guess it, I’m difficult, I know that I am, but sometimes—I mean, a lot of the time, really, it feels like I can’t control it. When I argue and bicker and stomp away in a tantrum. It’s these feelings—I have so many, and I never know what to do with them, and it’s like drowning in indecision and I always make the wrong choice.”

“I know, love, I know,” she soothed, pulling you back in and smoothing her palm across your hair. You melted into her embrace like you hadn’t since you were ten years old. “You’re so much like me, you know? I swear, hear it every time we’re out with our friends. And when I was your age, I felt that way too. Lost and overwhelmed and like I wasn’t enough.”

“So, what did you do—to get rid of those feelings, I mean?” you asked, already dreading her answer.

“I didn’t. And you shouldn’t want to, either.” You almost lifted your head to argue but stopped yourself before you could. “Your emotions and feelings and thoughts and dreams—they make you who you are. Of course, it’s important to acknowledge the root of the ones that pester you the most and try to understand why they have such a hold over you. And maybe it’s my fault, really, for not saying it more, but we are so so proud of you.”

“I think you say it more to James and Sirius than you do to me,” you pointed out, a slight bite to your words but not enough to sting.

“James is, well, James. I can’t deny that he’s occasionally—” you raised your eyebrow incredulously at that and she responded with an amused eyeroll— “struggled with his classes and getting it together, so it seemed important to guide him in the right direction with praises. Sirius, on the other hand—well, we’re all he has. We just wanted him to feel loved.”

You nodded, understanding, but not sure how you fit into all of this. “Then you, my love. When you were younger you were always naturally good at things. I never understood where you got that from cause it certainly wasn’t from me. You put little effort into things and excelled, so maybe I got used to the idea that I knew you’d always be alright even if I didn’t say anything. But that’s my fault, I shouldn’t have withheld my pride out of laziness.”

“I don’t think you’re lazy, Mum,” you urged, but she hushed you with that stern voice of hers.

“I’m sure you don’t but shush because I won’t admit it again,” she scolded, her voice entirely mocking and somewhere between those tears, you managed a smile. “Your Da’ and I always knew you’d go on to do brilliant things. You’re intelligent, and passionate, and those muggle kids of yours adore you. You’re shaping their lives in ways you can’t even know, and they’re lucky to have you, just like I am, my sweet girl.”

She leaned forward, placing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“And do you hate that I live at home still?”

She reeled back, both shocked and confused. “of course not. We love having you here! It’s entirely selfish, really. Got to convert James’ old room into a study, as well as keep you around for the company and to help with chores. If anything, I don’t want you to move out,” she explained, serious. “Really, if you had more natural light in your room, we would’ve helped you to a new place the second you graduated from Hogwarts.”

You barked out a laugh at that, entirely believing her. “Okay, okay. I get it. I’m wanted, or whatever.” You could feel your cheeks flaring at the thought of saying it out loud, but you ignored the feeling to relish in your Mum’s embrace a little while longer.

“Oh, yeah—whatever,” she teased, reaching up to wipe a stray tear from your face. “You could never disappoint me.”

All you could do was nod before your face dropped with apprehension. “What—what is it, love?” she asked, concerned herself.

“Well, you see, you say that now but I did something kind of dumb…” you trailed off, unable to confess just yet.

“What did you—you didn’t murder someone, did you? Because I love you but I don’t think I could manage Azkaban with those arthritis flare ups I’ve been getting.”

“What--! Mum, no, I didn’t—how could I? How could you think I’d be capable of murder?!” and really it had been the longest you’d gone without absolutely belting at someone.

“You are quite easily irritated,” she reasoned.

“If people stopped being so irritating—” you stopped, taking a deep breath, before confessing— “No, it’s both better and worse.”

“Go on,” she encouraged, but even she didn’t seem entirely convinced.

“I kissed Sirius.”

And it was like crickets between the two of you. Not a scolding shout or a cry of horror or—

“Okay… and is that it?” she asked bluntly.

“What do you mean ‘is that it?’. It’s wild, unbelievable, otherworldly, even!” you sputtered, not quite comprehending the calm with which she was speaking.

“Oh, don’t be dramatic, love. It’s not a good look,” and she pushed you out of the way to continue scrubbing at the dirty dishes, ignoring your stunned frame.

“Aren’t you going to ask me ‘why’?” you pushed, peering over her shoulder to check she was very much alive and breathing and not pranking you with a bit of some sort.

“I don’t need to, I know why,” she answered simply. You balked, tugging her shoulder back so she halted her movements and turned to face you.

“And what might that ‘why’ be?”

“It’s simple, really. You love him, you’ve always loved him. Since you were five and he pushed James into the dirt for stealing your copy of that Tiger, Wizard, and Cabinet’ book.”

You couldn’t help the way your hand slapped against your face right then, from exhaustion or exasperation, you weren’t sure. “It’s the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, Mum,” you groaned.

“That definitely doesn’t sound right,” she pouted. “Anyway, he got the book back from James and you were so pleased you came up to me and said ‘Mummy, I think Sirius isn’t so bad after all, can we keep him?’. And when I explained the laws around owning human beings, you huffed and hid under the dining room table all day until you fell asleep.”

“Well, that does sound like me…”

“Of course, it sounds like you. I’m your mother,” she chided. “You didn’t start pretending to hate Sirius until you were about ten or eleven and he got that first girlfriend of his. What was her name—Lacey? Macey?”

“Stacey,” you chewed out, only to realise the anger with which you spoke her name despite never having known her. “Oh—”

“’Oh’ indeed. And what did you say to young Sirius after this kiss?” she pried, entirely engrossed in the story now as she rested her hip against the damp counter.

“I might’ve—you know---”

“No! you didn’t!” she burst out, already knowing exactly what you were going to say.

“I did, Mum, I did,” you moaned, pathetic and questioning if there was any way to rectify the situation, you’d found yourself in.

“Well, I can’t help you with that, love. You’re on your own, kid,” she explained, wiping her hands clean before sending you off (you weren’t entirely sure where, exactly) with a pat on your back.

If you were anyone else, you would’ve taken such an encouraging conversation and somewhat-healed trauma of your childhood as a sign to go speak with Sirius.

But no, lucky for you, you were you.

He hadn’t shown up to work all week, using the flu as an excuse. So when James and Lily invited you over for a small gathering— “Really, James, two parties in one month? What kind of home are you raising my nephew in!”—you hadn’t thought much of it, or him.

“Do let me know if I’ve got this correct– you’ve decided to host a fourth of July party despite not being American, or, now that I think about it further, ever having been to America?” you questioned, genuinely worrying for Lily’s sanity as she rocked a bumbling Harry on her lap, cheeks painted with red, white and blue stars.

“Well, when you put it like that,” James groused, pouting, arms folded against his chest despite being the adult that he was.

“How else would you put it, James?” you argued, exasperated.

Lily perked up at the sound of a potential fight and silenced the two of you with a single look. If anyone was made to be a mother, it had to be Lily. She was compassionate and kind and gentle, as much as she could scare you with a simple glance, she could soothe all your worries as well.

“Look, I just needed an excuse to have a beer, and what better excuse is there than this! The holiday of beers—” I thought that was St. Paddy’s “—Hush! Otherwise, I’d have to wait for someone’s birthday or, what’s the next holiday–? Halloween? That’s ages away.”

You smirked at his odd logic. “Obviously it doesn’t necessarily have to be very Americana or whatever. Red, white and blue– just close your eyes and pretend it’s the beloved Union Jack instead!”

The gathering wasn’t as big as the last one, and you recognised the few familiar faces as Lily and James’ closest friends: Remus, Marlene, Mary, Peter, Sirius—

Sirius? Your head whipped back in a double take, watching as he pulled Remus into a hug ‘hello’ right by the garden gate. He hadn’t noticed you, not yet, but it didn’t take long for his gaze to fixate right on you. You couldn’t read his face, not having ever quite mastered the skill, but this time especially, he looked dazed and withdrawn.

Even his smiled seemed tight, like he didn’t quite mean it, and your heart plummeted at the thought that you’d done that to him.

“I’ll be right back,” you offered, distracted, to James as he preoccupied himself with squeezing Harry’s chubby fist.

Sirius had gone straight inside, probably headed for the kitchen, and you followed suit, wondering what it was about your brother’s house that had the two of you both rushing to and avoiding confrontation.

You found him right where you had expected—peering into the dimly lit fridge and pulling out a bottle of beer.

“Sirius,” you said, announcing your presence as you let the door click shut behind you. Luckily, no one else was inside the house, rather taking in the one day of sunlight and light breeze in an otherwise damp English spring.

You watched as his shoulders tensed instantly, and you just knew he wanted to be anywhere else but there, with you, at that moment, but he turned to face you anyway.

“How can I help, Potter?” he asked, keeping his cards close to his chest still.

“Can we talk?”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing right now,” he pointed out, brow raised as he took a deep gulp of his drink, cringing at the taste.

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it,” you pushed back, inching a step forward.

 “No, I don’t know what you mean,” he replied smoothly, seemingly untouched by the implication behind your words.

“You’re such a prick sometimes, Sirius.”

“And you’ve only just noticed? My, didn’t take you as slow, Potter,” he noted, mockingly, and you flinched at his casual cruelty.

“Don’t do that,” you scolded.

“Do what?” he fought back, “Speak my mind? Seems like you’re the only one allowed to do that around here, and when anyone dares contest, well, all hell breaks loose.”

“You’re not speaking your mind, though,” you argued.

“Ah, and you know my mind so well, do you?” The annoying thing about Sirius, amongst many other things, was that he knew how to get under your skin. Had perfected the craft after years of verbal combat with you. So his words poked and prodded at your soft underbelly with ease as he brandished his hurt around like a swordsman with a too-heavy sword.

“Maybe not entirely, but when it comes to us, I think I know enough.” He stayed silent after that, hesitant, as if waiting for you to make the first move. “The other day, when we kissed—” and you knew you were getting hotter because something, some feeling, flickered behind his irises “—I said it was a mistake—”

“—I know, love. I was there,” he scowled. “No need to remind a man of his failings.”

“Just— let me finish!” You inhaled, slow, before continuing. “I said it was a mistake when, in fact, I felt the opposite. It’s just—it’s you and I, Sirius, and when it comes to us, I might know, inside, what I mean and feel and intend to show but when it comes to the actual ‘doing’ part of it all, I always seem to mess up. So, when I said it was a mistake, what I really meant was—”

And it was his turn to cut you off with his mouth, only this time it was sweet and yearning and apologetic as opposed to the fire and passion and lust that had guided the two of you the last time you’d found yourself in his hold.

His mouth slid over your own, careful and inquisitive, whilst his palms cradled your face, as if you’d slip out of his grasp if he moved even an inch in the wrong direction.

It was lovely, really.

As much as you wished for him to keep going, to keeping kissing you like he might yearn for you too (though you wouldn’t be saying those three words for a while), you were horribly aware of the fact that Lily, or worse, your brother, might walk in at any moment.

So, Sirius didn’t allow himself to get carried away with you, not yet at least, and instead he pulled away with a content sigh, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb as if to memorise it by feel alone.

“Is that our thing then? Kisses in the form of sneak-attacks?” you mused, vibrating and giddy and utterly pleased.

“Could be, if you want?” and it seemed like he was still entranced with your mouth to properly reply in any meaningful manner.

“Sirius,” you pleaded, urging him to look at you, properly. He tore his gaze away from your lips, finally, and the way his face split into a grin had those fucking butterflies returning, tenfold. “Are you okay?”

“I will be once I take you to mine and do that all over again, only, a little less clothed and a lot more horizontal” he promised, the cheek of his you had come to endearing having return after his previous sulking.

“You’re a menace,” you groaned as he buried his smirking face into the crook of your neck, holding you tight to him before his grip relaxed and he pressed a kiss to your forehead, holding you right there.

“I know, and I’m only joking—well, if you want me to be joking, I will be. But I’m fine—I swear it. It just seems surreal, us, like this,” he explained.

“I get that, it is a bit odd, but I’ve realised you need to contextualise those weird, new feelings and not let them control you, at least, not if they’re ‘bad’ or whatever,” you offered clumsily, trying, in your own way, to relay the same advice your Mum had.

He snorted in response, and you smacked his back from where your arms were wrapped around him. “You sound like your Mum.”

“Mm, that is my Mum. Only, she said it better, and more concise, and in that Mum-way that just makes sense.”

“Ah, well that makes a bit more sense.” He pulled back for a moment, not letting you out of the circle of his arms yet. “We should talk about this a little more, shouldn’t we?”

You nodded, sighing as you moved away from him to get a hold of your thoughts once more. “I think, for me at least, I conflated anger with my feelings for you because I wasn’t exactly sure how to handle them, and deep down, I worried you’d reject me, so it seemed easier to argue with you than—”

“--this,” he finished for you, and he must’ve read the agreement on your face because he bobbed his head in response. “It makes sense, really, and it’s about the same for me, only, there was the whole issue of James and, I mean, I’m older—”

“—by a few years,” you maintained, scowling, and he wanted to kiss you for it.

“Yes, love, but a few years means different things depending on how old you are. We’ve never really been in the same phase of life until now, so I don’t think I wanted it—nor would it have been appropriate, really—until a year or two ago. By then, it seemed too late, so I just kept—”

“—bickering.”

“Yeah, bickering. Arguing. Biting back. It was the safer option.” And everything he said made sense, it was all entirely reasonable, but you still mourned the time lost to not being entirely honest with each other.

“But there’s no point worrying over that now, not when we can’t do anything about it,” he reasoned, noting the faraway look in your eyes and centring you back, there, with him.

“We should get back to the party,” you whispered, fearing what would happen when the two of you left the safety on the kitchen, flooded still with gold and a certain stillness that had you aching for this moment to be forever.

“Yeah, love, let’s go back,” he answered, just as quiet, nudging his head toward the door. Just as your hand came up to turn the doorknob, Sirius’ palm came up in front of you, halting your movements. He stood, still, behind you, and close as ever. You could feel every breath he took, and that damn cologne you’d started missing in the bookstore as well. “Don’t worry about us, love, we’ll be fine,” he assured you.

You answered by turning the knob and making your way back towards the garden. Sirius followed from behind, and when you stepped through the backdoor, you realised how little had changed since you’d gone inside, but also just how much had changed, as well.

as always, please comment and reblog if you enjoyed this <3

[antiwhores]

Bakugou’s sidekick with a mask

Bakugou has known his sidekick for 3 years now and he has not once seen your face. No one has. Hes getting curious too with the crush he’s harboring.

Yall I gotta take my braids out today but im not tryna do that. Also, my friends keep calling me mommy. Im childless!

Part 2 👇🏾

Bakugou has never, not ONCE, seen your face.

You work at his agency as his sidekick and yet he has no real idea what you look like. You’re documents are proved secure so you’re not a villain in disguise. And even so, he would’ve caught you acting suspisous by now. You just really don’t wanna show your face.

No one has seen your face in the agency. You walk around with a full face mask and suit like some spider-man wannabe and never take it off. Not even in the girls locker room! And oh, the female workers have tried to pry it off you.

As a little inside joke between the both of you, Katsuki offered a reward to anyone in the agency who could catch you without your mask on and tell him what you looked like.

They would hide in lockers and wait for you to take off your mask. They would be seething with excitment, practically hyperventilating. Then you would pull off the mask to reveal another mask.

This cracked Bakugou the hell up when he heard the gossip. The whole situation honestly only made his fondness for you stronger

This same procedure repeated a whole bunch of other time too. They would think they finally caught you then you would reveal another mask. One of them even tried sneak attacking you to rip the mask off. Only to reveal another mask.

The masks the multiplied while the amount of people trying divided until everyone gave up and there were about a hundred of your masks hanging around.

Of course, Bakugou was curious. Especially since during the 3 years of you being his annoying sidekick, he’d started to feel some unwanted love and attachment towards you. How was he supposed to ask you out if he didn’t know who he was asking out? Not that he cared what you looked like. Its just he wanted to know to feel… special.

He had managed to pry a bit of information about you along with sarcastic comments:

“Okay. Just answer my questions if you’re not gonna let me pull that damned mask off.”

“Ugh, why’re you so curious? Are you wondering if I’m insanely hot? I am, now leave me alone.”

“No you fucking idiot, its just unfair.”

“Unfair?”

“Yes unfair, I’ve known your dumbass for 3 years. We hang out outside of work, we’ve almost died together like 40 times, and you’ve seen me almost naked!”

“Not by choice! I swear, you should’ve locked the door!”

“IT WAS THE BOYS BATHROOM!”

“OKAY AND?”

“Oh my fucking god. Anyway, all that shit and I dont even know what your dumbass face looks like! You could just walk by me out of costume and I’d have no damn idea who you were.”

“Yeah, thats the fun of it! Makes me feel like a spy.”

He gives you a serious look, “y/n-“

“Uuuuugggghhh, fine you whiny bitch. What do you wanna know?”

“What race are you?”

“What race do you think I am?”

“I’ve seen your skin sometimes when your costume breaks. Also I know you’re from y/c so your probably y/r.”

“Racist.”

“Im gonna fucking murder you!”

“You’re correct, you smart cookie! Anything else?”

“Yeah-“

“EHHHHH! Only one question every 3 years Katsuki!”

“THREE YEARS?-“

Eventually he does see you outside of work but just as he suspected, he has absolutely no idea its you.

There was a villain attack happening and you were oblivious to it. Or more like you couldn’t afford to do something right now. You had forgotten your costume but thankfully you heard familiar explosions accompanied with the voice of Sero.

“Oh, they got this.” You mumbled as you continued to walk in the direction of your apartment. You took a bite out of a piece of the cheesecake you went all the way across town to get.

The deluctable flavor, and maybe your lack of care, stopped you from realizing a literal car was fly towards you. Honestly, you’d walk out pretty okay if it hit you, banged up but alive, and thats all you needed. You also overused your quirk yesterday and now you’re basically quirkless so there wasn’t really anything you could do without loosing your cheesecake and that was worth more than your life.

Just as you prepared for the car by taking another bite you were swooped up into warm arms. The stranger had flung himself and you into the air. You couldn’t bring yourself to even care cause YOU DROPPED YOUR FUCKING BAG OF CHEESECAKE.

You screamed at the man, it all came out muffled due to your mouthful.

“WHAT TE FEK? MY CHESS CAKE! GO BAIK!”

The man whos arms you were in ignored you. He went to drop you off on top of the building you were standing under but you immediately jumped off.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!?” The man screamed. He must’ve thought you were doing this just to die.

He blasted himself down to grab you before landing on the ground safely.

“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

You were about to turn around to answer but the words died in your throught at seeing your partner. So you just pulled yourself away from his grip and walked over to the bag. You picked it up with a bright smile before continuing your walk.

He grabbed the back of your shirt before you could get away. “Do you have a fucking death wish or something?!” You broke the piece that you were about to grab into two. You took the other piece and shoved it in his mouth.

He looked like he was about to murder you but you just threw him a thumbs up. He spit the cake out, earning an insulted scream from you. “What the hel-“ Before he could finish the sentence he was interrupted by Sero. “BAKUGOU! If your finished flirting with the civilian… COME HELP ME!”

Its like he remembered he was in a fight by the way his face hardened. He grabbed your neck, turning you to face him. “Leave. I don’t wanna see you around here again. And definitely not for no fuckin’ cheesecake.”

You nodded feverishly, a blush was creeping up your cheeks. You felt exposed looking him straight in the eyes. Like one wrong move and he knew everything about you.

He mumbled something about you reminding him of another dumbass he knows before blasting away.

The next day when you guys were patrolling he told you the story. You couldn’t stop laughing at how he described whom he didn’t know was you. “Yeah and then she wanted to fucking give me attitude and shove cake in my mouth!” You giggled, “Was it at least good cake?” “YES!”

[thepartyresponsible]

prompt fill! someone asked for jason todd and truth serum. this was also supposed to fill the request for "who did this to you?" with phil/jason, but i didn't make it to "who did this to you?" part. sorry! i'm trying to keep these under 1k.

anyway, this one's a bit bleak, but educational. here, jason learns an important life lesson: if you go undercover as a criminal, sometimes people believe you. and phil learns to reorder his interrogation questions.

warnings for drugging people without their consent. the drug in question is a fictional truth serum.

- - -

Using this particular drug on a nonconsenting person is a crime in most of the world. A recent amendment to the Geneva Convention marked its use on prisoners of war as a war crime. There’s a blanket ban on its production and use in the European Union. In the United States, administration by law enforcement personnel was ruled a violation of the Fifth and Eighth Amendments.

But SHIELD is not at war. Nor is it a law enforcement agency. And Phil Coulson is not in territory controlled by the United States or the European Union. The man in SHIELD custody undoubtedly has rights of some kind, but the extent of those rights – and who might be obligated to protect them – is currently unknown.

“It’s messy,” he says, to Fury.

“It’s a mess,” Fury replies. “Clean it up.”

- - -

He’s younger than Phil expected. But he has no right to judge anyone for sending their young to die. After all, he looks older than Natasha, possibly older than Clint.

And Natasha and Clint might be dead. In some ways, SHIELD’s no better.

“Your name, please,” Phil says.

“Jason,” the man says, a slow, sleepy mumble, and then his eyes open, and the panic hits.

Phil’s grown familiar with panic. He’s seen it in civilians and soldiers, in diplomats and dictators. He’s seen it every time he’s encountered this drug.

When it was first developed, early adopters trotted out the old lie: if you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear. But everyone has something to hide. Everyone has a secret they would swallow their own tongue to protect, and here’s a substance that takes that choice away, a wonder drug that retains awareness while negating will. A life-saving torture device.

“Fuck you,” the man says, which is far more spirit than most manage.

“Jason,” Phil says, “my agents are missing.”

“Fuck you,” Jason says, again. “That’s what happens.” He’s double-blinking, struggling to focus. Phil’s done this six times. No one's ever managed this level of control. Usually, they’re drooling by now, spilling secrets and saliva into the collar of their shirts.

Something’s wrong.

“You’ll have to excuse me,” Phil says. “We must have miscalculated your dosage.”

- - -

Medical reports back half an hour later. There was no miscalculation. The man has a tolerance they assure him should not be possible.

“We gave him a second dose. He should be amenable now,” the doctor says. “If he doesn’t stop breathing.”

Amenable, Phil thinks. He explores the hollow inside him where the horror should’ve been. It’s a terrible thing they’re doing. He knows that.

But his agents are missing.

“Thank you,” he says. And he goes back to work.

- - -

“You know,” Jason tells him, glassy-eyed, barely looking Phil’s direction, “if you ask the wrong questions, I have to kill you."

It’s an interesting threat from a man who cannot lie.

“And what are you afraid you’ll tell me?” Phil asks.

“Identities,” he answers, chest rising slower than a sleeper’s.

“Ah,” Phil says. “Yes, we’ll get to that.”

“Batman,” he adds, unexpectedly. “Nightwing.” He swallows, clumsily. When he breathes in, he chokes. Phil watches him almost drown for a moment and then he reaches across the table and tugs Jason’s head forward so he can breathe.

He barely has the coordination to breathe, but the contact makes him flinch hard enough to shake the table. Phil wonders who made a creature like him.

“Who do you work for?” he asks.

“Nobody.” And then, almost smiling, voice dropping into a guttural growl, “Justice.”

Which could be good news. Killers with a mission are predictable, once you understand their cause. “And who decides justice? Who gives you orders?”

“Nobody.”

Interesting. Most freelancers don’t work at this level, and the ones who do should have extensive SHIELD files. “Who’s been signing your checks lately?”

“Checks,” Jason says, and laughs. “Fucking checks.”

He’s been thoroughly dosed with a drug designed to make him highly suggestible and meekly compliant. Phil’s starting to understand why capturing him was such a costly undertaking.

“Whose money is in your accounts right now?”

Jason makes a noise, some gusty grumble of complaint, and then lists off a dozen or so of the very worst people alive. The most interesting names are the ones Phil doesn’t recognize, but he’ll have to get to those later. The window is short; his time is running out.

A single dose is risky. Some people never fully recover their independence. They’re rendered permanently docile, suffering from a kind of chemical lobotomy that good people across the globe have outlawed. A second dose doubles the odds of permanent damage. After the third, some people won't even breathe without orders.

They’ve given him two already.

“These people who’ve been paying you,” Phil says, “which of them is paying you right now?”

Jason sighs. “Nobody pays me. I stole that money.”

“You---” Phil pauses, looks at his notes. He re-reads the names, marvels at the insanity of stealing from any of them. “You stole from those people?”

“Stole from ‘em,” he says, “killed ‘em. Well, killed some. Gonna kill the others. It’s, you know. A to-do list. I’ve been busy.”

Phil wonders if he’s been wasting his time, if he’s drugged a delusional man. “You don’t steal from people like that before you kill them.”

Jason tilts his head so he can look up him, furrows his brow in something that is almost a coherent expression of disdain. “You never have any fun, huh?”

Phil might be dealing with someone far more dangerous than he’d predicted. “You do this for fun?”

“Yeah,” Jason says. “And for justice.”

Justice, right. Of course. “And who taught you about justice?”

“My dad,” Jason says.

Which is good. Which might be helpful. Truth has its uses, but, in Phil’s experience, leverage gets more accomplished.

“And who,” Phil says, “is your father?”

Jason’s eyes track his direction but don’t quite land. His mouth closes and then opens again. “Batman,” he says.

“Oh,” Phil says. “Shit.”

[myhyperfixatedmess]

Intrusion.

Tom Riddle × Fem!Reader

You always had a hard time understanding why Tom kept you so hidden away. One night something happens that makes you realize why.

Word count: 1.7k

Content warning: Hints of a panic attack, violence, depictions of torture.

Soft!Tom makes an appearance!

You were very aware that Tom kept you at a distance from his...business.

Even during your time at school, he only allowed you to attend the Room of Requirement meetings a couple of times after much pleading. Graduating didn't change the situation much, despite your marriage; you didn't mind not knowing every detail of his plans, but the extent of your seclusion felt odd. You just wanted to understand why he kept you hidden away so intensely.

Most days, you tried to convince yourself that being the wife of the Dark Lord was enough, even if you had no say in his world-altering decisions. It was hard to ignore that some of his followers were unaware of your existence, while others knew you only as "The Dark Lord's mistress," a term you doubted Tom was aware of or would tolerate.

Though a few Death Eaters knew you from your Hogwarts days, most remained tight-lipped around you, offering mere nods or quiet acknowledgments. It was clear they feared Tom greatly; making eye contact with you seemed like a perilous act. You weren't sure if it was due to his direct orders or their assumptions about his expectations. Either way, though you couldn't really fault them for hiding from you. While you weren't scared of Tom, you could understand why others would be. 

Quiet apprehension gnawed at you as you contemplated discussing your concerns with Tom. But you reasoned that avoiding potential arguments and trusting him were better choices. After all, you were an adult now, not a teenage worrier. You had married him despite his questionable morals, so who were you to judge?

The muffled conversations behind closed doors and fleeting glimpses of secretive meetings became your new norm. Sometimes you managed to catch glimpses through cracks, only to have the door swiftly shut when you were noticed. While you occasionally wondered about his trust in you, you pushed those doubts away to avoid unnecessary distress. You remained silent, occupying yourself with your own pursuits, whether it was reading, writing, or wandering the halls of the inherited family estate.

On this particular evening, you found yourself in the library, Tom being out for the night, which didn't bother you. As you perused the shelves, a loud bang from downstairs jolted you. Frozen in place, you strained to listen for more sounds, until harsh, unfamiliar voices reached your ears. Loud and aggressive, they echoed from the ground floor.

Panic surged as you realized you were in danger. These voices weren't part of Tom's inner circle, and you backed away from the library door, realizing that someone had broken into your home. The thought of a robbery crossed your mind, but then a chilling realization struck—you hadn't considered the possibility that Tom's ambitious plans might have made enemies.

Your initial instinct was to leave the house, apparate, and contact Tom for help. But as your hand reached for your wand, you remembered it was in your room. Unlike Tom, you couldn't perform wandless magic. Trapped and helpless, the sound of angry shouting grew louder, approaching from downstairs.

With each thud of footsteps ascending the stairs, you strained to catch their words. The first voice, a man's, sent a shiver down your spine as he called out, "Where is that bitch?" It was clear they were after you, and this wasn't just a random intrusion; they intended to harm you.

Anxiety clenched at your heart. You had never felt targeted before, never imagined this vulnerability. You cursed yourself for not being better prepared, for letting yourself be defenseless and alone. As their voices drew nearer, panic coursed through you; you were trapped, with no means of escape. 

With painstaking effort, you inched backward against the library wall, the cold surface offering a stark contrast to your racing heart. The air felt thin and suffocating, your breaths shallow and uneven, while beads of sweat dotted your forehead.

They were right outside the door now.

You pressed your hands against the wall, your pulse pounding in your ears, as you prayed for them not to notice you. They pounded on the door, and you clamped your eyes shut, fear tightening its grip on you with each thud.

A shiver of dread ran down your spine as the door gave way, crashing open under their assault. Two men stormed in, wands at the ready. Your body locked up, terror stifling your voice, and you blinked back tears that threatened to betray your composure. This couldn't be real, it couldn't be happening.

The realization hit that running was futile—your exit was blocked. Your heart raced as their eyes settled on you, and you weighed your chances against them without a wand. Your legs trembled as the fear that gripped you teetered on the edge of overwhelming.

"There she is," one of the men sneered, his gaze locking onto you. Panic gripped you tighter, the world narrowing down to their menacing forms.

"We've been looking for you. I'll take her. Come along." His companion's nod was a chilling confirmation, and your pulse quickened as he aimed his wand at you. Their grip tightened, hauling you forward, and you struggled against their grasp. Your voice wavered as you spoke, desperation evident, "Don't do anything foolish. Let me go!"

Their faces twisted with anger at your words, their cruelty evident.

"Voldemort's whore has a temper," the other man taunted, the use of Voldemort's name sending a shock through you. These were Tom's followers, but why target you? They had to know the repercussions of angering him.

"What do you want with me? What are you doing?" you pleaded, flinching when the grip on your arm intensified.

"Enough talking," he snapped, his wand slicing through the air to silence you. Before you could react, the curse fell from his lips.

"Crucio."

Agony erupted, a scream tearing from your throat. Pain seared across your skin, your body convulsing as the torture curse wracked you. Darkness encroached on your vision, and you were thrown backward, a collision with a bookshelf shattering your senses.

As your awareness wavered, a silver dagger gleamed in one captor's hand, your body too weak to move. The other man grabbed your hair, his wand trained on you, while the dagger-wielding one advanced with malicious intent.

"Please, no! Tom will b—"

"Shut it!" the man spat, the blade plunging into your leg. Agony shot through you, your body wracked with pain as your screams filled the room.

"That bastard doesn't even know we're here, but he's gonna regret making a fool out of us," the man hissed, drawing closer. Nausea swelled within you, tears clouding your vision.

"Unhand her." The voice cut through the chaos, familiar and commanding.

"Tom…" you croaked weakly, blinking teary eyes to see him standing behind your assailants. His eyes blazed with fury, and you clung to his presence, your savior in this nightmare.

The attackers froze, their surprise palpable.

"M- My lord," one stammered, and Tom's lip curled with disdain.

"Ah, so it is 'my lord' now?" he seethed, closing in. The men scrambled, leaving you slumped against the bookshelf.

"We meant no disrespect, sir," one attempted, while the other looked on anxiously. "We simply were…"

"Were what?" Tom's anger laced his voice. "Please do explain your assault on my wife."

"My lord," the shorter man bowed, "We didn't know—We just thought she was some intruder!"

The taller man nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, we came for you and saw her! We thought she was breaking in, my lord, I swear!"

The lies were transparent.

"Not only did you invade my home and attack my wife, but you dare lie about it," Tom growled, his gaze steely.

"No, we're—"

"Silence!" Tom's command silenced them both.

"Both of you will go downstairs; I will address this later." The men hurried away, assuming they were off the hook. Tom turned to you, worry etched his features as he reached for your trembling hands.

"My love, can you hear me?" he murmured, his voice a soothing balm. His arms enfolded you, lifting you gently. Pain rippled through you, your vision swimming.

"Everything will be all right now, I am here," he assured softly, but your pain remained relentless. Tom's gaze shifted to your bleeding leg, his brows furrowing in concern.

"You will be fine," he said gently as he cradled you. The pain was overpowering, your vision blurring as you teetered on the brink of unconsciousness.

His voice reached you, your consciousness slipping away, but you knew he was there.

And then the darkness enveloped you.

-

When consciousness returned, you found yourself in your bed, the dull ache in your head the only lingering reminder of the ordeal. Your gaze shifted to your bandaged leg, confirming that the events weren't some nightmarish illusion. Sighing, you realized it had all been real.

You pushed yourself up, cautiously testing your body's limits. Muscles protested the movement, and a groan escaped your lips as pain surged through you. Memories of the harrowing experience played on a loop in your mind, each scene etched with vivid intensity.

Tom's voice interrupted your thoughts. "You need to rest." His presence filled the room, and you met his gaze as he spoke.

"How long was I asleep?" you questioned, trying to make sense of the passage of time.

"13 hours," he replied calmly, offering you a glass of water. He settled beside you on the bed.

"Thirteen hours!?" Shock colored your voice as you nearly dropped the glass. "I was unconscious for thirteen hours?"

Tom's reassurance came with a touch. "It is okay, you're safe now," he said, his arms encircling you. The glass of water quickly emptied as you downed it, your body yearning for hydration after the ordeal.

"So, what happened to the intruders?" you ventured, your apprehension clear in your voice.

"They have been dealt with," Tom's response was clipped, his demeanor stern. You understood the implication behind his words and chose not to press further.

"I'm sorry, Tom," you murmured, resting your head against his chest. Fatigue washed over you, threatening to pull you back into sleep.

"For what?" he inquired gently.

"Being reckless," you admitted, your eyelids growing heavy.

"I was careless too," he confessed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "They are gone now. I will never let any harm come to you again."

"Promise?" you whispered, your eyes fluttering closed.

"I promise," his reply was tender, and with a content smile, you surrendered to sleep once more.

[jifanjiang0710]

Dinner with the Stellaron Hunters

yandere kafka x reader x yandere blade

“SILVER WOLF!”

Your fists start to hurt from all the pounding. She’s locked her door again. “Time for dinner!” She can definitely hear you. Whether she responds or not is her choice.

“Boss fight!” She yells back.

“Come downstairs quickly!” Scurrying down the flight of stairs, you stop at Blade’s room. An ominous reddish glow is emitting from under the door, reeking of death… or is it your imagination? You raise your hand to knock, before a voice from behind sends chills down your spine.

“What are you doing?”

Turning to meet his scowling visage, ever-unchanging (SW likened him to an NPC), you see Blade glaring down at you, and neither of you speak.

“…dinnertime.”

He slinks off.

You groan irritably. You do everything in this house. Thankfully, Kafka is already at the table.

After a quick scan of the seating, you heave a sigh of relief. There is a seat at the table between Kafka and Blade. Thank the aeons. As you head for the spot, Silver Wolf plops herself down onto the chair in all her glory, eyes not leaving the handheld console. You stare dumbfounded for a minute, partly at the audacity, the rest a growing conflict arising from within you.

The most vexing decision of the night: sitting next to Kafka, or Blade. Only one party can be sated, and the other will then shower you with the fruits of their displeasure for the rest of the night. Tread lightly in this delicate situation.

Choose Kafka, who lets her fingers glide up your thighs, particularly when you are drinking; who whispers vile things in your ear as you try to focus instead on the noises from Silver Wolf’s console; who sometimes holds a spoon to your mouth and expects you to say ahh...

Or choose Blade, who barely tries to hide his growing fascination with you at this point; whose fiery eyes bore into you carrying a heavy sort of intensity that cannot be described; who you know has no qualms about cornering Kafka’s favourite pet and finding out just what makes you so special to her.

The purple-haired woman notices your hesitance, chuckling breathily. She takes the initiative to beckon you over, with a single curl of her fingers. You trot towards her, deeming her, just for tonight, the lesser of two evils. Then you catch sight of his gaze. It’s a warning and a threat, all expressed within a single flash of the eyes.

“What’s wrong, little one?”

“I- I….” You feel yourself starting to sweat at this minor conundrum. How can you defy a direct order from Kafka?

She sighs, evidently disappointed at your lack of decisiveness. “Oh, go on. I’m sure Bladie deserves you for just one night, with how long he has been eyeing up what’s mine.”

The tension builds, and you bite your tongue. That sentence was biting, indirectly instigating another cold war between both hunters. So, gathering up stray remnants of courage you take a seat next to him.

The atmosphere is even more strained.

“Ah…how is your hand?” You direct the question to the man sitting beside you, glare turning less pointed. “Has it healed?”

“Yeah,” SW says suddenly, accusatory. “How is your hand?”

He sighs, irked. “Still healing. Isn’t it obvious?” For it was still wrapped in bandages.

“Blade, our supply of bandages is depleting. The others need them too. Is it really necessary to cover your torso?” He can very well heal himself should the need arise, and any pretense on his part is to avoid having to game with Silver Wolf. Blade ignores you, as if you’d committed a crime against him personally.

Kafka is unusually quiet.

You chide Silver Wolf to finish off her broccoli.

“Oh dear. Little one?”

Her sudden shift of attention to you makes you jump. “Yes, Kafka?”

“Will you be a dear and run off to fetch a cloth for me? I seem to have spilt some soup onto my lap.”

Blade watches intently as you fuss over her, asking whether there are burns, if she is alright, and run off to pour another bowl for her.

His fists clench, tightening around the bowl. “That was intentional.”

“What an astute observation, Bladie. And do you keep your uninjured hand bandaged so my little one may continue clouding their pretty little head with concern for you?”

“They do not enjoy being toyed with, treated like the fragile doll you make them to be.”

“And they don’t seem to like treading on eggshells whenever you are in the vicinity either, or stared down in the way a rabid beast would reserve for its prey.”

“You think you are almighty, Kafka-”

“Oh, but I am. Everything I orchestrate, as I predict, shall come to fruition.”

“Just because you claim control over me, you will not be the most powerful, nor the most infallible. You know just as well as I do, Kafka, and even you cannot deny it. [Name] would be better off anywhere but with you.”

“And if Elio were to say otherwise? Will you continue deluding yourself in such pitiful manner?”

A sharp noise of a crack emanates as the bowl chips under his grip. “…very well.” Blade says, after a second of contemplation. He looks up at the woman opposite of him, the intensity of his gaze like piercing wind, “Let us ask Elio.”

Kafka does not answer, but the slight stiffen of her lower lip speaks volumes. She crosses her arms.

“Listen, Bladie-”

“Enough! Kafka, what did I say about commanding Blade? And Blade, that’s the third one you’ve broken this month. Please be more careful.” The two tear their gazes away from each other.

“My mistake, little one,” Kafka responds breathily, as though this matter were of minimal importance to her.

“I think I cut my finger from the shard,” says Blade.

You turn towards him, raising an eyebrow. He clears his throat, trying to appear innocuous. “…it hurts.”

“Do you need a bandage? You seem to have an abundance of it.” A petty remark by that woman, intent on having your attention solely focused on her.

He meets your eyes. “It still hurts.” On the surface, what with his deadpan expression, it sounds like a command, an order to tend to me. You hear it for what it really is, a plea for attention.

“Aw, fine. Give me your hand. Where does it hurt?”

Kafka’s turn to watch on as you examine his (supposedly) injured finger. You feel an odd sensation of impending doom…

“May I be excused?” Without giving you time to respond, the young gamer stands, tossing her plate into the sink and scampering upstairs once again. You look down and see that your own bowl has been piled suspiciously high with vegetables.

This girl… You sigh, but do not protest this time.

For the night, the Stellaron hunters disperse.

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

On a more wholesome note:

His phone buzzes. Fumbling a bit with the home screen, he swipes. It’s a message from Kafka.

That Woman: Kys

She receives a reply in return.

Bladie: One day I will.

‘I can only eagerly await that day’

‘As will I.’

‘You’re lying, Bladie~’

‘What.’

‘You no longer want to die, do you?’

‘Good night.’

‘Ah, don’t chicken out. They make you, for the first time in a long time, want to live. I can tell. You’re intrigued.’ ‘…’ ‘Hello?!’ ‘Leaving me on read again?’

He sets the phone down, sighing deeply.

The window shutters are half closed, swaying gently in the breeze. There is a dim starlight scattering the night sky. It reminds him of a home he had lost a long time ago. The wind picks up, blowing away a stray strand of hair off his shoulder.

He does not know how he got there, but his shadow looms over your room door. After some hesitation, he knocks.

[maggstar]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞

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𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+, mni DNI!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: here babes

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut, public sex (at night, so it's chill), mutual touching, protected sex (cause we don't want any diseases!), reader is a virgin, lots of kissing and tongue action ;)

𝐖𝐂: 6.5k (holy shit?)

𝐀/𝐍: this is for my biker hee enthusiasts, hope yall like this :)

Please leave any sort of feedback: reblogging and commenting is the best for me, so let me know!!

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A peaceful Saturday night in the outskirts of town was scheduled to be disturbed in the following minutes as another biker season was about to take place. Bikers have gathered all across the city to attend a race, this time the possession for the winner being a brand new Breakout 117. 

Surprisingly, you weren't here for yourself, but for your friend, who couldn't miss this chance. Every month, he somehow managed to drag you along. Sometimes you truly questioned your decisions, especially given the circumstances. You weren't a significant other nor a fan, just a friend of a boy with whom you have known for decades. At this point, it became a tradition, as he claimed you were his lucky charm for victory. 

Sometimes it was worth the fun, especially when you got to witness your friend winning. He was a professional, not only skillful but also sensible, unlike some of the drivers. Whenever the two of you went on rides, he was extra careful. You simply trusted him, just like you did when you bet on him before the match, putting your money on the fool. 

You looked around the field, recognizing some of the contestants and their significant others, their style matching the rock and roll image their partners were carrying. You felt awkward standing there in your boring jeans and hoodie, finding your choice of clothing rather amusing. Yet again, that was you.

As you stared at the road again, your eye noticed a familiar figure approaching your friend, identifying them from miles away. He was taller and leaner than him, always wearing the same leather jacket during these events, lazily topping the outfit with some jeans. 

He had been fairly new in town, yet his performance proved everyone wrong, quickly stepping up the ladder. You didn't know much about him besides a few encounters, in which he surprisingly always found a smooth pickup line to make an impression. He never mentioned his name nor where he was from. There was a mysterious vibe surrounding him, which intrigued you more. 

As if he could sense your stare, he turned his head in your direction, eyes catching yours, passing a light smile, catching you off guard. You widened your eyes at the realization, quickly looking away even though it was late, slightly panicking inside. 

You didn't know why his presence made you feel this way. The first time he came to you, you felt your stomach hitting a wall, gaze focused on the boy's face. Saying he was just handsome would be an understatement because it was breathtaking. Maybe it was just the effect of the moonlight shining on his face or the wind casually blowing his hair into a messy one, prompting him to run his hands through it like he was in a TikTok edit.

Something about him gave you a tingling feeling, and you couldn't understand what it was. 

"Missed me?" you turned around at that voice, meeting him hovering over you with a smug grin, licking his lips teasingly. Fucker

"You wish," you crossed your arms, swinging your hair to appear unbothered at all costs, knowing damn well it wasn't working. 

"Hm, why were you eyeing me then?" his words landed on the tips of your ears, hearing his smirk as he leaned against the fence, trapping you in between. 

"Because you were talking to my friend?" you stepped back, hitting the fence with your back, trying to avoid the intense watch he was attempting to pull you in. He only reached closer, his nose brushing against your neck, smelling the soft jasmine scent. Your heart almost burst out at the random contact, grabbing the hem of your hoodie to hold in the gasp. If you weren't so sensitive, the hairs on your neck wouldn't have stood up at that little touch, proving to him just what effects he had on you. 

"Hm, your friend," he casually twirled a strand of your hair around his finger, clearly enjoying edging you, "the one you always bet on, huh?" 

You nodded, your cheeks burning up from the sudden attention, only exposing yourself to him more. It was too difficult to think straight when the distance between you was so slim you could almost hit your face in his chest, the powerful aroma of rosewood hitting your senses. Not only was it nice, but it was your favorite, the fragrance you would come back to in the perfume shop whenever you had the chance. What a coincidence that he had to be wearing it while seducing you. 

"Why don't you bet on me once? I wouldn't disappoint you," the quirkiness in the sentence punctured, tucking the strand of hair behind your ear. You knew he was good, so the confidence didn't surprise you. Still, it made you nervous, the unpredictableness of his actions tempting you.  

"Why should I?" you sighed, fighting yourself not to lose your composure after his fingertip traced over your jawline, visible due to your avoidance of eye contact. His touch did something to you, and you weren't sure if you were supposed to like it. Technically he was your friend's opponent, and getting close to him seemed like a form of betrayal. 

"Cause if you do, you'll win," he held your chin, pulling it back to face him, finally examining your flustered expression," and I'll take you on a ride through the city." You stared into his brown eyes, unable to read his intentions through them, doubting your reactions.

"That's it?" somehow your brain succeeded in forming a normal sentence, sensing his hand sliding into your back pocket, internally screaming at the scene. He acted as if it was a regular thing he did, not a visible effect of it. You, on the other hand, were losing your mind.

"Someone's greedy," he smiled, pulling away after what felt like an eternity of torture, giving you space to take a proper breath at last. You didn't want to appear dramatic, but seriously the tension that transferred seconds ago left your throat dry. 

"There is a race tomorrow downtown," he turned around, looking back from his shoulder, "be there. I might have something else planned too."

And with that, he took off, returning to his crew, leaving you thoughtless, dazzled, to be specific. He really left you hanging there, mind empty, heartbeat speeding up, and lungs begging to scream. 

For a moment, you forgot the contest was about to start, your friend waving at you before putting on his helmet and getting into the starting position alongside the others. You saw the newbie sitting on his motorcycle, shooting a wink, and taking off as soon as the starter commander waved the checkered flag, disappearing in the distance. 

He was serious when he said his luck was his secret weapon. Everyone seemed to have expected him to win another race, proudly taking home another trophy with a couple of ladies interested in spending some "quality time" together. He didn't mind, merely paying them attention because he was focused on someone else. He was focused on you.

However, you were busy comforting your friend, laughing and smiling at whatever he was saying, stinging his emotions. He expected you to congratulate him, a bit resentful by the outcome, tongue poking the inner side of his cheek. 

It was stupid for him to want you to notice him, especially when so many girls had their eyes on him. You wouldn't approach him like that. He had to be the one to make the first move to make progress. Taking that into consideration, he remembered there was still tomorrow, his last chance to prove he was worth your while, and he was ready to whatever it would take to win that race.

He didn't know you were aware of his stare, not giving in so easily to see what it would do with him. It wasn't like you were playing hard-to-get. You simply wanted to find out to what extent he was willing to go for you, even if that meant he had to chase after you.

You had already decided to come to see him the next day, not expecting to find a paper note in your back pocket once you had reached home. It had a phone number written on it with the time of the event, and reading the message in small cursives made you scoff.  

"P.S. You might want to keep this for later.

- your favourite biker ;) "

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

It didn't surprise you when you came by as planned and witnessed the familiar faces hanging around, some of them even greeting you with a smile and a quick hi.

Nevertheless, you didn't expect to run into folks out of town, assuming this race was more important than the one yesterday. It wasn't common for bikers from other cities to partake in a contest, let alone in this town.

You wondered if your friend had a clue about this happening as he wasn't a part of the crowd, guilt rushing through at the lack of his presence beside you. 

You sat down on the nearest bench, eyes skimming for the boy who convinced you to come in the first place. He was in the front talking to his group of friends he had made in the past weeks, one of them tapping his shoulder at your sight. That was all he needed to turn around and distinguish you amongst the people, telling his friends he would return in a minute as he started walking towards you with a can of beer. 

"You came," he grinned, hiding the actual excitement inside, squatting in front of you to meet your gaze. You rolled your eyes at the statement in hopes of pushing away the same warmth you felt 24 hours ago. 

"So you want me to take you on a ride, huh?" the cocky smirk after that made you scoff, quickly taking it back when his elbows rested on your thighs, causing you to stare at him with a startled face. He brushed it off, smiling and handing you the liquid, nudging you to take a sip. You explained to his dorky ass you didn't drink, and he couldn't help but laugh at the information because it was even more amusing.  

"Can I ask you for something?" he broke the silence by voicing his question, watching you nod.

"Can you give me a kiss for good luck?" you almost choked on your breath at his calmness during the proposal, widening his eyes as if you were the one who had presented an inappropriate suggestion.

The boy wasn't messing around, and you understood that the minute he leaned in closer, face inches away from yours while his orbs lusciously studied your plump lips covered in pink lipgloss. 

"Just on the cheek, if you're too shy," his response only invoked you more, standing up after pushing him away. He gaped at you, fixing his posture amidst waiting for an explanation.

"What, was it too much? Did I embarrass you?" the cursed thumb brushed over your cheek, gently stroking it with a content laugh. He wasn't only teasing but relishing your flustered state, in which you asked yourself: "What the hell am I doing with my life?".

"You have to earn it first," you pulled away, crossing your arms, letting your brain break down and comprehend the impact your words would have on the playboy. 

"Sounds like an invitation," he sneered, taking a sip of the alcohol, sensing the thrill running down his body at the possible outcomes. It made everything better knowing you didn't calculate your reply, adding to the fever. 

Before you could perceive the situation, he returned to his buddies, smiling from ear to ear at the unexpected yet pleasant turn of events. 

Soon after, the motorcyclers repeated the typical preparation for the beginning of the night, their supporters encouraging them for the best results. You stood behind some of them, glimpsing at the tall boy out of the corner of your eye, who was already ready to cross that finish line and get you all to himself.

The race took off the minute the commander yelled go, the sounds of the engines storming off through the selected path, vanishing at a swift speed. It was a long one, including overlaps at some destinations, making it more challenging. This all appeared to be a higher level compared to the usual races you witnessed, curious to find out if the charming flirt actually had a chance on impressing you tonight. 

His demeanor was overall confusing, and honestly, you had no clue what to think or feel. It was pleasant when he gave you attention, and you couldn't act like his words didn't do something to you. You have never been in a relationship, having been too focused on school to make time for love, not seeing the queue of potential lovers. Thus, these chats left you with a new feeling, craving more.  

It would be a crime not to mention he was astonishingly attractive, the way he talked, moved, and most of all, looked at you. The captivating eye he would give whenever you appeared on his radar drove you crazy, followed by an assured smirk. It was enough to build a tiny crush on him without acknowledging it, not wanting to hurt your ego by admitting it aloud. 

You came to reality after everyone started loudly cheering, blowing whistles, and gathering around the winner, who got hidden behind the buffs. You stepped closer, taking a peek between the heads, coming face to face with him. After all, he kept his word.

"I told you you wouldn't regret it," he said as he put a helmet on you, patting the seat behind him, keen on leaving the place with you.

You were still taken aback by the pace of the situation, recalling the disappointed looks when the handsome one chose you instead of them.

Nevertheless, you were happy at the moment, joining him with a huge chuckle, wrapping your arms around his waist without him having to ask, slightly taking him aback with the out-of-the-blue contact. 

He didn't say much after, calmly driving through the streets, checking you through the rearview mirror sometimes.

The ride felt different, unlike when he took his other flings somewhere, and he didn't understand the meaning. It was already unusual for him to feel nervous about someone's company, especially when this scenario had played out countless times before.

A part of him felt bad for taking advantage of the situation, especially given your innocence compared to his exes. He presumed you weren't aware of his relationship because otherwise, you probably wouldn't have agreed to this. 

Then again, this was the first time he worked so hard to impress someone, almost giving up during the race. However, during one of the laps, he saw you standing behind the railings, showing thumbs up with an irresistible smile, providing him the right energy to pull through.

That had never happened before, and he was aware of the seriousness of the news. It would mean it was the first time in many years a flirter like him would fall hard enough to like someone. 

The more you squeezed, the more he noticed the effects of it on his body, clenching his jaw to concentrate on the road and not the unwanted happiness.

He didn't want to admit it. He didn't want to come to terms with the fact someone could give him butterflies. It simply didn't fit his image, and he never believed in the cute lovey-dovey stuff others experienced.

Now it all bit him back, showing him just how nice it could be if he let the walls he had built around down for a minute. After that one relationship he had, it was hard to find someone he could truly trust, and many had wronged him in the past, leading to his cautious state. It wasn't an excuse to be a playboy, but he used it to appear careless. This way, he wouldn't fall in love and hurt himself. 

He was curious about your past and if you had any nice affinities in which you were happy and content with yourself. He didn't want to harm you with his mentality and behavior, not ruin your image with his dirty games.

Now, he regretted taking you out because he was dangerous. Not in the usual way, but emotionally, he didn't want to leave an avoided scar. It was confusing, he was difficult for no reason.

He never cared about this because the girls he met up with had the same desires, some hoping for more but unfortunately ending up heartbroken. Whenever that happened, he skimmed through it, not giving a second thought to them.

Yet, he sat here entering the motorway after circling the city, disbelieving his decisions. It was touching to hear your little gasps and awes, telling him how beautiful the lights from the skyscrapers looked, pointing at the buildings. It warmed his cold heart, managing to satisfy someone with such small things. It was foreign. 

He didn't believe he pulled you off with his foolish tactics, earning your trust without having to tell much. Under normal circumstances, he would be against this idea because it was playing with fire. He felt this need to protect you ever since he had met you due to your pure personality, quirky lines, and profound smile. 

All of the desire to hook up perished away, and he only wanted to show you a better view of the city, driving up to a secluded place where he spent most of his time alone. It meant a lot to him, too special for anyone to know about, thus never having taken someone up there. You were the first and probably last person to visit it, the sound of it now appearing appealing to him. 

"Where are we going?" you shouted into the sky, the sound of the motorcycle so loud you could barely hear yourself. 

"It's a surprise, hold tight," he remarked back, glancing back at the road as the destination was getting closer, feet tensing at the information. You decided to trust him, pulling in closer to rest you heard on his back, a smile forming behind the helmet. It felt cozy to be so close, even if it was for a while.

You were so lost in your thoughts and feelings that you didn't register the satisfaction his existence gave you, unnecessarily disassembling the reason for the fervor your heart experienced. 

A few minutes later, the two of you finally reached the stop, parking beside the road to take you to the spot. You jumped down, letting him take off your helmet even though you knew how. He stared into your eyes once more, admiring your beauty while your hair was blowing in the wind, revealing your majestic looks. 

"You liked the night city so much," he uttered after putting away everything, joining you at the fence, "so I thought you should see the best of it." 

"It's," you were at a loss for words, marveling at the view ahead, having the vision of the whole city underneath. It was incredible, and you could only sigh in astonishment, joyful to be able to see it. 

"Beautiful," he completed the sentence, glancing at you with the hope you would catch on the little hint. You were too fascinated to uncover the message he had thrown at you, looking around with a big beam, letting out tiny noises of delight. He couldn't stop staring at you instead of the view, finding himself slightly grinning as well. 

"You know, you still haven't told me your name. You know mine, it would only be fair if I knew yours," you turned around, catching him swiftly turning around to face forward, holding in a giggle. 

"Heeseung," you raised your eyebrows at the reply, expecting a game in which you would have to guess or earn it. He said it without any thought, resting his hands on the bars. 

"Well, thank you, Heeseung."

"For what?" he glimpsed at you, studying the vivacious energy you carried, making him forget the tiredness he had held. 

"For bringing me to your secret place. It's lovely."

"Just like you," you gulped at the random compliment, mind going crazy while you attempted to hold yourself together. 

"They weren't kidding when they said you were a playboy," the sentence felt like a punch in the stomach, glancing at you to see the regret on your face, having expected this to happen regardless. 

"Why say that?" 

"You flirt with anyone naturally," the intonation of the comment asserted with a scoff. "You're just messing around, right? No feelings attached, just looking for someone to score."

"Y/N,"

"I'm not saying it's wrong, just-" you paused, brows furrowing at the lack of knowledge. You didn't know why it angered you so much, why it bothered you so much. Why was the thought of him alternating between women so frustrating? Why did you even care? It wasn't like he wanted to change it anytime soon. He enjoyed playing around because it was fun. Why would something suddenly change with you? Why the hell were you even thinking about that?

"Y/N,"

"It's stupid. I'm stupid. Stupid for foolishly believing it might be different. I don't even know why I thought about it. I don't understand why you make me so nervous when it's just a game, why I feel something when you say the compliments you used on other girls, why I came here in the first place, why my heart beats so fast when you look at me. Why-"

"Because I fucked it up!" he shouted, preventing you from rambling any longer, startling you at the shift in demeanor. His sharp gaze sliced through you, anger fuming in it. He wasn't mad at you. He was disappointed in himself.

"I wanted to hook up and have fun like you said. That's what I do because I'm a coward. I'm afraid of getting attached to someone," he panted, needing to take a breath after finally saying the truth out loud, shutting his eyelids to prevent tears. He wasn't letting that happen.

"I'm afraid of hurting again," his voice softened, biting his lip to prepare for what he was going to admit. It was already difficult to be in this position with you goggling at his words, processing the unforeseen amount of information thrown at you. 

"I avoided anything that could put me in that position until I met you," his hands clenched into a fist, wrath clambering in his bones, yelling at him for being such a coward. He was itching to kick something, punch an object to get it out before it could absorb him, fighting the need by engraving nail marks into his palm.

"Ever since I laid my eyes on you, there wasn't a day I stopped thinking about you. Your image was buried inside my head, and I couldn't get rid of it," he inhaled, chest feeling heavy at the weight his upcoming words carried, eyes meeting yours, the tension trapping your heart. 

"That damn smile of yours, Y/N. It ruined me in the best way possible."

...

...

...

The world around you two seemed to have stopped at that moment, staring at each other without saying anything, silence taking over after what was declared out loud, muscles tightening with each second the brain replayed the words, struggling to put the information into the database. It kept slipping out, checking if the content of it was correct and if there wasn't a mistake when it was collected. All the signs indicated the process had been performed successfully, thus leaving you with the truth, which was unthinkable.

Your heart had so much to say, but your mouth couldn't move, speechless to form a coherent response. You lost your thinking in his gaze, studying his aching expression, which desperately coveted an answer. He didn't care what it would be. He had to hear something before he would lose his mind because it was right around the corner waiting for him, and he could take off any second.

"I-" You hopelessly made an effort to say something, leaving the pronoun hanging in the air with your thinking, your emotions taking over your system. Before any of you could say something, your hands reached for the back of his neck, drawing him to your lips swiftly, gasping at the new sensation. 

Your heartbeat went up at the act, his only rapidly increasing whenever you pulled away to press on his lips again, nibbling on your bottom lip, smearing your lipgloss, and acquiring the faint taste of strawberry in his mouth.

He didn't expect this, the possibility of it not even entering. The ire for himself subsided, withering out every time your tender touch coated your lips with affection. The hatred faded into the darkness, leaving on ease. All the curses and insults reset, unplugging the tension in his joints, balance failing to cooperate. No part reported back their status, senses being the only department registering and functioning. 

"He-heeseung," your voice whispered, sighing as he put all of your hair on your other shoulder, having full access to your neck, on which he immediately left a soft kiss, barely pressing his lips on your warm skin. That was enough to give you the biggest goosebumps, going down to your legs, which floundered not to move.

You couldn't let out a protest or argue about his doing because you were tongue-tied, thunderstruck, or whatever other phrase that described your situation. His fingers grazed over yours with grace, poking the space in between to intertwine them, taking a whiff of your delectable perfume. 

"Can I touch you, Y/N?" his thumb gently stroked your hand, leaving tender smooches on your skin, lightly wrapping the other around your throat, lifting your chin to be able to see you. You only stared back in mesmerization, body, and mind entering numbness, stranding you with suspense. 

"I-I," the word stumbled, just like your brain did when he stepped closer, his body pressing against yours, your back hitting the railings. It happened again, trapping yourself in his ardor, eyes floundering to stay open, weakening because of him. At this point, you didn't want anything more than his touch, tippy-toeing to feel his lips on yours again, dissolving in his embrace.

His free hand slid under your shirt, caressing your stomach as he rested his forehead on yours to stare intensely into your eyes, completely emptying your worries and doubts. You whimpered at the move, causing him to pull away with a smirk, whereas you covered your face out of embarrassment. 

"It's ok," he moved it away, stroking it to conceal the chuckle that badly wanted to come out, "I want to know if I'm making you feel good."

The wave of heat ascending had you begging for more, pulling him by his chain, wrapping your arms, unleashing the oxytocin and dopamine out of your system. The serotonin circulating in your blood made you jump on him, luckily getting held and seated on the railings, smiling at your enthusiasm. You weren't comprehending your doings, incapable of reflecting. 

"Someone's eager to have me," he laughed, teasing you with his lip between your lips, sliding in at the moment his hand rested on your thigh, forcing you to gasp and give him the opportunity to show you another compelling experience. You weren't sure if it was supposed to be this luscious or if it was simply the swoon speaking. Either way, your panties started feeling uncomfortable at the stain of arousal they had to absorb, demanding some friction. 

"Spread your legs, princess," he tapped on your thigh, grinning at your immediate reaction, unzipping your jeans to slide them down your ankles. 

"Heeseung, what if someone sees us?" for a minute, rationality entered back, alongside shyness, legs clasping against each other at the cold wind bouncing between them.

"Don't be nervous. Nobody comes here at this time. It's dark anyway, so they wouldn't see us." 

That calmed you a bit, not imagining participating in something like this in public, at the edge of a railing. Risk-taking wasn't in your nature. Nonetheless, something about it was exciting and surprisingly made it more fun. If your past self saw you right now, she would have probably fainted. 

Heeseung was in his world, hand wandering lower out of impatience, drawing circles with his index finger on your inner thighs, the softness of your skin driving him crazy. There was nothing compared to craving someone so badly, and he wanted to cherish every second of your fragile whimpers, his name rolling on your tongue from imploring.

He had never felt this needy for someone, always having had one-night stands to blow off some steam. It wasn't memorable, none of them standing out, simply falling into the repeated cycle without a label, just a blunt recollection. Tonight, however, was going to be an unforgettable memory, and he couldn't stop thinking about it as he reached your clit, replacing his finger with his thumb, and pressing a little to carry out the motion. You bit your lip at the act, still holding on to his arm for support, burying your flushed face in it. 

"Does that feel good, angel?" he whispered in your ear, sucking on your helix, biting playfully to make you squirm underneath. You quietly murmured what sounded like an agreement, battling with the lewd noises your mouth desperately wanted to sound. It only worsened with him picking up the speed, drawing infinity symbols all over, sending your vision to the back of your head.

Without noticing, he brushed his crotch against your leg, softly moaning, provoking you to do the same. You moved your leg in his favor, making sure you weren't putting in too much, falling apart at his hushed moans. 

"Put your hand on it," he pointed, guiding it to his bulge, which was poking through his jeans, warming up in your palm. Your eyes almost fell out of their pockets at the advancement of the situation, practically losing it. 

"That's what you did just by kissing me," he panted, groaning instantly at you gripping it, releasing it gradually, propelling him to curse out loud. It was your curiosity and purity that pushed him over the edge, wondering how long he had before officially hitting the ground from how far he was falling for you. 

"I want to make you feel good too," you pleased, sliding into his pants to stroke his erection through his boxers, watching him soften under your spontaneous dominance.

"Are you sure? You don't have-" His words got cut off by an eager kiss, almost falling over due to the intensity of it, moaning into your mouth while your tongue met his, insides flipping over at the emanating smacks. 

There wasn't a better way to answer that question, his pants falling along his boxers after reaching for a wrapping in one of the pockets. Watching him put on a condom was another shocking discovery for you, learning how wrong your reading about him had been. 

"Here," he lifted you, taking off his leather jacket to place it over the fence before positioning you back on it, uncovering a hidden gentleman. Frankly, all of his actions tonight were new to him, from the way he handled you with care to his eagerness to have you, his member basically twitching at every contact you two shared. He was down bad, and he loved it. 

"Slow, please," you wrapped your arms around his neck, "it's my first time."

"Wait, really?" he held onto the bar for support, too stunned to speak after the revelation, anxiety rushing through his limbs. You nodded, worried it might change his mind about doing it with you. That wasn't his concern, though. It was more about if he should be the person to guide you through it. Not to mention, the place was already a horrible choice, reevaluating his measures. 

"Don't you want to lose it with someone else? You know, someone more special," the self-doubt peeked through, surprising you. 

"No, I want you," the reassurance soothed the tense one. "There's no one else I want to do it with more."

Heeseung stayed quiet, not knowing what to say. The straightforward answer was what he had wanted to hear for years. To be someone's first choice and not a pinch-hitter, to be selected from the various other options. To be wanted by someone, not just for their pleasure but for his as well. He realized at this moment how much it meant, the sudden need to kiss you taking over, aligning his shaft into your wet entrance.

"Is this ok?" 

"Yes, but it hurts a bit," you pulled on his collar, adjusting to the tugging thing between your legs. It was weird, and you weren't sure how much of it he had put already, stressing over how much you could take in. 

"It will soon pass. I'm sorry," he pulled you into another kiss, rubbing against your clit before pushing in again, this time going in a bit deeper, holding you with one arm. It was unpleasant, and you recalled your gynecologist examination, the same pain now ravaging through. You appreciated his effort at making it less painful, trying to be as gentle as possible.

"You're so sweet for a supposed bad boy, you know," you groaned, nails digging into his T-shirt, into his back, to be precise, leaving some marks. Heeseung couldn't wait to look at them in the mirror tomorrow, content as he left some lovely patterns all over your collarbones. 

"I think you have a special effect on me."

A cry parted at the deepening and sayings, walls trying to push out the unfamiliarity, leaving you with more discomfort than necessary, face scrunching up. 

The only thing that kept you going was his worried attentiveness lingering on you, checking in after a bit of kissing and rubbing, concentrating as hard as he could. Fortunately, his gentle manners relaxed you, easing a little the more you gave in, not paying attention to the pain any longer. 

"Is it at least a little better?"

"Yes," you beamed, "I think I can actually feel someth-" A whine cut you short, a weird ecstasy unlocking at his shaft moving, gasping at the feeling. 

"Hm, that's the spot, huh," he kissed your cheek, caressing your hair as he repeated the motion, pushing out the air in your lungs. 

"Oh fuck, is this supposed to feel this good?" you wailed, tugging to his collar for support, your life flashing ahead of you.

"Yes, sweetheart. It means you're doing great" another thrust, this time more powerful, shattering your G-spot. The combination of his voice and nickname made you see stars, wandering in the pleasure emanating.

The only thing you could think about was him, your hand in his big hand, stroking you with his thumb calmly as he sucked on your now puffy lips, placing one between his, perfectly sliding against each other. The slowness of it made your head spin, adding up with his tongue roaming around, transferring his warm saliva with yours, painting your mouth in it.

He roamed in you now since you gave him the green light, the lube on the condom enabling him to slip in easier, your walls sucking him in to keep him inside.

Neither of you had to say anything because your eyes spoke instead in between the passionate ravaging, reaching the depths of each other's soul, smoothing out all of the worries and fears it held on. The comfort you two passed on each other sent you in euphoria, eyes smarting from how good it felt, not believing it was possible. 

"I don't know what's happening, but you're doing things to me," your brows curved up, the pace of his thrusts picking up at the confession.

"If only you knew what you do to me."

"I mean that something is happening," you spoke, indicating to your stomach, "I can feel it building up."

"Oh, you're close?" he face-palmed himself from within, laughing at his awkwardness. 

"I think so," you pulled him closer, planting your nose into his shoulder to conceal your volume. 

"That's alright, cum for me, please," he pleaded, checking if his ears weren't deceiving him. He really begged for you to reach your high on his cock. 

"I think I'll fall in love with you if you keep this up," your fingers dipped in more, orgasm increasing in size with his cock bursting in your dripping hole, catching the wet sounds. 

"Hm, I think I'm one step ahead of you," his groan shoved out, biting on your neck to grant your climax, sensing his approaching hastily.

"I'm gonna cum if you keep talking like that."

"Then be a good girl and make me happy," he conveyed, your pussy immediately tightening up at the words, throbbing as it released your liquids, covering his member in it. 

"Kiss me," he appealed, welcoming your hands on his cheeks and lips on his, the intimacy of it emptying out his load into the condom, groaning into your mouth at the delight spreading all over his body, leaving him panting from the intensity of it.

You stared into his doe eyes while the two of you were catching on your breaths, beaming from the joy surrounding your hearts. He had the most beautiful smile you had ever seen, brushing your finger over his lips before drawing him into another kiss, a long one that showed your gratitude and happiness. 

"I'm so happy right now," you whispered against his lips, giggling at the funny feeling inside your chest. 

"You have no idea how happy I am," he smiled back, pulling you into a deep hug, firing the tears of joy onto your back.

"Why are you crying?" you quickly pushed him away to grab his face and scan for any type of pain, ending up with a big smile instead.

"Because I finally found happiness."

"You silly, you got me worried there for a second," you put his head back into your chest, playing with his hair to not make him see the huge grin growing on your face. 

"I should take you home," he mumbled, hands rubbing your back.

"No, take me to you."

"Wait, like to my house?" he escaped your touch, staring at you to check if he wasn't hearing things. 

"I want to cuddle tonight," you hopped off the fence, pulling back your clothes while he did the same, still looking at you to confirm he wasn't imagining stuff and you really said you wanted to spend the night with him, at his house, in his bed. 

And you were serious, settling it was time to let your heart make the decisions for a change and carry out the night in its favor.

"Let's go, pretty boy."

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Taglist: @end-hyphen, @hee-pster, @jakeswifeyy, @gegeetime, @heerated, @jayked, @forjongseong, @enhastolemyheart

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧! ^^

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@maggstar

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

oh baby, oh

pairing: jake sully x human!reader

WC: 1.1K

warnings: talks of abortion, cursing. should be it.

summary: you got knocked up, but do you want to keep it?

A/N: a anon sent a request and something just came out of me cause i wrote this in one day. i have a pregnancy fic with jake and na’vi!reader in my drafts. i wanted to do one where they decided now isnt the right time for kids cause, its not always the right time. abortion is completely fine.

masterlist

“what the hell are you saying, max?”

“…you’re pregnant?” he said it as more of a question than the statement he made just a minute ago.

your hands gripped, besides your thighs, the bench you were sitting on. your body hunched and head hung. you let your knees bounce up and down in quick segments before stopping and then starting again.

a sigh came from your nose and you looked back to max, “are you one hundred percent sure? have you done a second check? is- is the- the equipment perfect?” your throat felt strained.

max eyed his dated pad, nodded his head, and even showed you the information. your eyes darted over all the charts and words, everything was correct.

“god damn it,” you mumbled as you closed your eyes and looked to the ceiling. you could feel the tears bubbling to the surface.

“why don’t you take some time to think about this and then-“ “is abortion an option?” you cut max off. his mouth opened and closed. “max, is abortion an option?” you double down on other options than just going through with the pregnancy.

“i- i believe with- with our equipment… it might be an option. but i’m not sure. why don’t you talk with jake-“

“jake doesn’t get a say in the matter, it’s my body.” your anger was getting the best of you.

max held his hands out like you were a scared ikran, “i know. it’s ultimately your choice… but jake is the father. do you mind if i ask? when was your last period?”

you groaned, “max, i can’t keep track. it’s irregular. sometimes i get it for a few days or sometimes it lasts a month. when i didn't get it, i didn’t think anything of it until i got extremely lightheaded and wanted to throw up at the smell of jessie’s cologne.”

he hummed. and you sighed.

“max… i’m not ready to be a mom, i’m only twenty-two.” “well because of cryogenics, technically you would be twenty-eight.” max, always the scientist.

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, “doesn’t make it better. i- i don’t even know if i want to be a mom.” the first tear fell, followed by more.

you felt max pull you into a hug and you instantly reciprocated with a tight hold. he rubbed soothing circles along your spine and kept telling you everything was going to be alright.

there was a knocking at the door that stole both of your attention and pulled away from each other. you turned and your heart instantly started to beat quickly. jake waited by the entrance for a second before rolling further into the sterile room. his eyes looked between max, who smiled at jake, and then to you as you wiped the moisture from your face.

he rolled his chair to your legs and set a hand on your knee, “hey, hey. what’s wrong?” you didn’t answer right away so he looked to max for anything.

“i’ll leave the two of you for some privacy.” he walked out of the room, the door closing behind him.

you toyed with your hands and bit your bottom lip. the feeling of jake’s hand was the only thing to keep you grounded right now.

“hey,” his deep voice bounced off the walls, “are you okay? what’s wrong, baby?” his thumb ran back and forth over the material of your pants. the pet name cracks your heart.

a shuddering intake of air before you let your eyes travel to meet jake. his brows were furrowed with worry and his eyes looked scared to hear the answer. his grown-out hair spiked in different directions and it made you tick a smile as you ran a hand through the brown locks.

“baby…” he took your free hand and placed a wet kiss on your knuckles. “please, please. let me know what is wrong and if i can fix it?” you decided to go the humorous and quick route to break the news.

“well, for one, you fucked up. and two… i’m pregnant.” you just bit the bullet and got the words off your chest.

the look on jake’s face was the embodiment of glass shattering. and now with your mind in shambles, you weren’t able to see the shift in jake’s eyes. how they were a deer in the headlights and then slowly soften and shined like stars in the night sky.

“fuck, jake. we haven’t even talked about kids in the future. and i’m still not sure if i would want any. i’m not good with children. i have a short temper and i like to be alone. plus i would need therapy so i wouldn’t cause generational trauma-“ “hey.”

jake gave a slight tug to your hands and dipped his head so his eyes would line with yours. you sniffled and pouted as you stared at your boyfriend. he flashed his ever-charming smile and it made your heart feel lighter already.

“for one, i’m sorry i got you pregnant. not my intention when we have sex,” a wet chuckle, “and two… whatever decision you make, i’ll be there for you.” he touched a hand to your cheek and thumbed away the salty tears.

“what- what do you think… do- do you want kids?” fingers clasped his wrist.

“i think,” he kissed your right hand, “that right now we are both a couple of idiots, who are just enjoying their time away from earth.” he grinned at you, “and kids? yeah… i would like to have a family with you one day, but i think we could have better timing. maybe… if we were able to get conscious transfers-“

“ah! i don’t believe that’s an option for us, only eywa can decide who is worthy.” you let your thoughts run with jake’s words, “but… you are fine? with waiting… if i want kids in the future? i mean, i could still not want kids years from now.”

“and that is okay. as long as i have you, that’s all that matters.”

you started getting teary, once again, but you welcomed the droplets. they were formed out of the love and happiness you had for and with jake. how he understood that this was a thing the both of you needed to talk about, but was still your choice in the end.

“i love you, you know that?” “i do, but it wouldn't hurt to hear it more often.”

you rolled your eyes at his playfulness and leaned your head toward jake. both hands holding his face and you let yourself get swept away by the intoxicating taste and feel. how his stubble scratched against your nails and the way his fingers made your skin burn hit with every touch.

jake pulled away and it caused you to whine a little as you chased his lips. his laugh made you lightheaded.

“needy, are we?” “hormones.”

and you pulled him back. and jake didn’t complain or pull away.

...

[imraespace]

CHAPTER 09: YUJI'S BROTHER

JUST THE WAY THINGS GO || MEGUMI X READER

The sound of a door opening behind them scared the life out of them, heads turning towards the sound, hearts racing but..

"Y/N?" Inumaki asked, calming down.

You noticed that not only your friends but Nobara as well are all in the office.

"Did you all get in trouble? Why are you here?" You asked, walking up to them.

"Why are you here?" Maki asked, ignoring your question.

You walked towards a pile of paper then picked it up.

"My aunt wanted some student files and told me to get it.." You mumbled.

You decided to not question them anymore, leaving the room with a warning.

"The principal is returning soon, so maybe you should leave soon." You ended, leaving the room.

The others looked at each other then decided to run out the office, leaving the papers there.

The bell rang and everyone made it to their classes, but Nobara stopped Yuji before he could enter.

"We need to ask your brother some questions." She simply said.

"What? Why?"

"He may know something, let's just go to class."

──────────────

You stayed back in class, finishing up some notes while your friends all left in a hurry making up some excuse but you told them that it's okay.

You packed up your books and made your way into a certain classroom, your aunt told you she had to leave for a while and won't return until later in the afternoon, leaving you with the only choice to hide away with your homeroom teacher.

You made it to the history classroom, slightly opening the door and was greeted with the sight of your teacher writing work on the board and a certain white haired male.

Their heads turned in your direction, which caused you to look away.

"You can come in Y/N." Suguru told you and you did as he said.

You sat on one of the desks, pulled out your headphones and decided to listen to music.

Satoru looked at his friends for answers and Suguru explained.

They left you alone, wanting you to be comfortable in your own mini world.

──────────────

"Megs we have to leave for a bit." Nobara told the male as they all stood up from their desks.

Megumi looked up the duo with a slight bored look on his face.

"It's okay I was heading to the library anyways.." He mumbled, grabbing his bag and began to exit the classroom.

Both Nobara and Yuji looked at each then raced out the classroom.

They all joined the others, everyone in the cafeteria sitting where people rarely sits by, with Yuji in the middle with his phone out.

He scrolled through his contacts, looking for his brother's own.

When he finally did, he called him and everyone remained silent.

Suddenly a voice was heard.

"Hello? Yuji?"

They all looked at each other then back at the phone.

"Hey Cho, I have a question for you." Yuji asked him.

"Question? Okay ask away."

"Do you remember about that incident that happened when you were still in the school?"

"Yeah? What about it?"

"I want to ask you some questions about it."

The phone went silent for a while, everyone sharing glances and small whispers were heard among the group.

"Focus on school Yuji, later we can talk about it. I'm guessing your friends want to know as well so just make a group chat or something, just don't focus on that right now."

The group, who was now busted from being a secret thanks to the whispering, celebrated in silence.

"What a nice brother.." Nobara mumbled.

"Thank you." Was the last thing they heard before the phone went silent, signaling that he ended the call.

──────────────

The rest of the day flew by, everyone has left the building, besides you and a few other teachers including your aunt's friends.

"Must suck being stuck here huh?" Satoru joked, looking up from his phone.

You sighed in response, resting your face in your palm.

"You have friends right? Why don't you hang out with them during lunch?" He asked, trying to start up a conversation.

"They do their own thing and I don't mind, though it is a bit lonely sometimes." You mumbled.

"Why not make new ones?" Suguru entered the chat, finished erasing whatever work he had on the board.

You thought about what he said for a while, which caused you to remember a certain someone.

"Maybe I should.." You mumbled to yourself.

Satoru pulled out a deck of uno cards from who knows where.

"Let's play until Shoko comes back!" He said, placing the cards on your desk as Suguru joined you both.

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MASTERLIST | <-PREVIOUS // NEXT->

TAGLIST: @deezy12299 @polarbvnny @fxriixq @mentallyunstablemanlover @baku-boneless @evinvevin @zhochikennugget @saesofficialwife @k1y0yo @frumira @nylories @jayathelostdragon @ashfrommyfire @br66klynbaby @luvkvni @we-loveebony @ire-exe @pompompuriina @vivi-loves-penguins @starszns @iluv-ace @fuyuzemi @sleepytoges @rzcnlb (OPEN)

(if not tagged, your profile didn't show up. sadly☹️)

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note: more choso next chapter🤭

[141trash]

AN: so I know its not exactly simon x reader its all platonic, but I wasn't sure how else to tag this. Actually if you squint it could be Ghost x Soap I'll let you decide :) Sometimes my brain says things should exist so I write them. Loosely borrows the Master of Death concept from the HP series because yes. She's my OC if you want to know more just let me know I mostly just wanted to practice writing Simon idk and wanted him to be comforted :(

"Let's say I believed you," the exhausted lieutenant's voice broke the quiet hiss of sand shifting in the warm breeze. He laid staring up at the cloudless blue sky, knife held limply in one hand. His balaclava was torn off and cast aside, leaving his face exposed to the unrelenting sun.

"Mhm?" Came the sweet voice, acknowledging his words and probing gently for him to continue.

"If I believe you're the master of death or whatever," he croaked out, throat parched, "Why me? Why save me? There're billions of people who deserve to be saved over me."

Her head cocked to the side, observing him for a moment.

"Why do you believe you're not worth saving?" she asked instead of answering. Simon let out a harsh laugh interrupted by a bout of coughing and a resigned grunt of pain.

"y'just need to look at me to know that love. My mask. I'm a killer. Got my family killed. My mum, my brother." he swallowed, voice cracking as he continued, "His beautiful wife, and their little boy."

He gulped feeling the hot sting of tears and used some of his waning strength to swipe them angrily away. When she didn't say anything he turned his head in her direction. It was hard to believe that he wasn't hallucinating. Sitting next to him in the middle of the desert was a six year old in a pink tutu and a burnt tiara of some sort, perched in her golden curls. Small hands drew shapes and patterns in the scorching sand as if the temperature didn't affect her. Big innocent green eyes bore into him in a way that very much felt like she was staring into his soul.

"The skull mask was an interesting choice," She agreed dryly, "I won't disagree that you're a killer either, given your chosen profession. But you didn't get your family killed. The actions of others are not yours to take the blame for."

"Y'r surprisingly wise for a kid."

The master of death rolled her eyes and smiled, revealing a set of pearly white teeth, "Today I'm a kid."

"Sure. like tomorrow you're not goin' to be."

She gave a shrug of her shoulders, "Maybe, maybe not. It's not exactly my choice."

"Y'didn't answer my question." he coughed again, "If you're the master of death. Why me?"

"I don't make those decisions. I think death would be rather cross with me if that was the case. Everything dies at some point. It's part of the cycle. But death says I'm still ruled by my human emotions. If I had the choice, I don't think I would let people die. And then there really would be no point to life."

He laughed again and then groaned, the side where he'd been shot throbbed horribly.

"You sure you ain't just here to kill me?" Simon wheezed out, hands tightening into fists, "Because it sure feels like it."

Tenderly she reached out and smoothed one of his hands, grasping at it with her much smaller one.

"Of course not Simon." she clucked her tongue as if to scold him, "Pain means you're alive. Keep living. Find your reason to keep living. It's important. You're important."

His vision was darkening with each passing second and her voice was growing murky, like he was hearing it underwater. Gasping in panic he forced his eyes open.

"It hurts," it came out as a whimper. She smiled sadly at him, bright green eyes wet with sympathy.

"I know sweetheart, but it won't be forever."

Then she was gone. The small, but reassuring grip she'd had on his hand disappeared and the panic fully settled in. He tried to call out to her. He didn't want to be alone again. Anything, but having to face the world alone again. He wanted to beg and plead for her to return, but his mouth refused to listen.

Rough hands grabbed hold of him, jerking him back to consciousness. When he managed to get his eyes open again he saw a familiar tanned, if a little blurry, face staring back at him with worry in his eyes. Johnny. Johnny was there.

He saw the sergeant's mouth moving, but he couldn't hear. All of his senses were on fire, everything was too loud, to rough, too painful. No part of him didn't hurt.

He was alive and Johnny was here. Weakly he lifted a hand to grasp the shoulder of the Scottish man's vest.

"You're here." was all he managed to gasp weakly attempting to smile before his mind gave out and he fell into darkness. This time he gave in willingly. He wasn't alone anymore.

[mandowifey]

For your match up requests can you surprise me? 🥰💙

Of course I can, you lovely bean you. Once again I am a cheater and I know who n' what you like, so with that being said...

I assign you; Bo and Vincent Sinclair!

Note: This is NSFW. Strictly because of gore, blood, violence, and mentions of sexual activities. There are allusions to non-con, as well as dub-con, some domestic violence, and forced relationships. Just overall dead dove, stay safe kiddos! This was also not proofread or edited, and my first time writing for them!

Be gentle.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

There was something deeply unsettling about the smell of burning meat.

When coagulated fat boiled and broke down it released a nauseating odor that permeated the humid Summer air. Sometimes it could take on the smell of barbecue, which was dependent on what animal was chosen.

You didn't care much for it either way.

Lester tosses a lopsided smile in your direction, using one bloodied hand to wave at you before focusing on dragging the decomposing deer toward the burn pile. You offer a tight-lipped smile in return, not wanting to give the impression you didn't have manners. Those were the most important thing to have around this place.

"Jee-zus Christ, why the fuck are you doin' this so close to town?"

The sound of a slamming truck door made you jump, and that familiar voice had you frozen in place. Your fight or flight instincts always had you ready to bolt, but over time and many failed attempts you had learned it was best to stay put. Boots crunch in gravel and you struggle to stay still.

"Ain't got nowhere else t'do it, Bo." Lester retorts before turning his head to spit.

Bo came to a stop beside you and sucked his teeth as his arms folded. You stare forward without looking. Your vision is tunneled now, and all you are aware of is the chirping of birds and crickets. There is a silence that lulls between you, and you've stopped breathing.

"What do you think, firefly?" Came the dull drawl of Bo's voice as his head turned to face you.

Aside from the regular torture, it seemed that Bo enjoyed antagonizing you with biased questions. Always putting you in the middle of things and forcing you to pick a side. The illusion of choice, as you knew agreeing with anyone but him, got you punished.

Both brothers were staring at you now. Bo, with his arms folded and Lester with a fist on his hip. Of the two, you knew Lester handled disappointment far better. That made things marginally easier, though disappointing him still left you uneasy. Aware that you were expected to respond, you begin blinking the sting of smoke out of your eyes. Finally, you cast a gaze upwards, daring to look at the more imposing man beside you.

"T-the breeze c-carries the smell," your voice was a squeak. "S-should try to f-find a different spot, m-maybe-"

A large hand claps your back and makes you gasp.

"Y'see, even she knows better." Bo grinned into his words while his brother scoffed. "Next time find a better spot." He warned, his expression tightened and some of that southern charm lifted, revealing just a glimpse of what he really was under the veil.

Lester waves his hand dismissively and mutters to himself as Bo leads you to his truck. You are silent as you climb into the passenger side, and do not look at the older man as he settles behind the wheel with a grunt. The old engine sputters and then rumbles to life, rattling the frame of the truck.

"Why're you lollygaggin' around with him for?"

The glass of the window cools your forehead as sweat beads along your temple and upper lip. After such a short period outside, the humidity sapped your energy and most of the moisture inside you. Leaving you with a dry mouth and some fatigue. You wanted a clever answer for Bo, something smart and witty that'd appease him, but nothing came to mind.

Impatiently, Bo grips a fist into your hair and yanks your head in his direction. The pain causes you to wince, but you don't fight it. You knew better. Instead, your glassy eyes stare up at him as your face contorts into something apologetic.

"Did the heat fry your fuckin' brain, kid? Answer me." His eyes flick from the dirt road to you.

"I think he gets lonely." Your voice was quiet. "He asked if I wanted to tag along, n' I said sure. That's all."

Blunt nails stung your scalp, his grip relenting only marginally at the answer. Bo snorts and shoves your head away from him.

"Well aint you just a bleedin' heart as always." His large hand fell to your knee, callouses rubbing over the smooth skin before slipping under the hem of your dress. "You wanna fuck him too?"

You knew where this was going. The same thing happened when it came to Vincent. Bo was a confident man with a sizeable ego but got sore as hell when the topic of his brothers came up. He wanted to be your favorite, but he also felt entitled to you, like he owned you. There were impossible, silent conditions he imposed upon you that left you guessing what the right thing was to say.

The trial and error wove itself as scars in various places on your skin. Cruel reminders of what failed attempts got you. Bo liked to caress them, kiss them, tell you what a shame it was to mar that lovely derma and how he wished you hadn't made him do it. Vincent was the opposite. His hands traced along marks while holding you close, remembering which ones he had meticulously stitched together.

When Bo's hand encroached on the junction of your thighs, you were tensing. "No, I don't wanna fuck him." His fingers curl into the yielding flesh of your inner thigh. He said nothing because he was waiting for more out of you. "I-I only wanna fuck you, Bo. P-promise."

He sucked his teeth again and tapped his thumb against the steering wheel, his hand no longer moving. "You sure 'bout that princess? I've seen how you look at Vincent." The words soured on his tongue, causing his brows to vex and his fingers to bruise into your thighs. To call him territorial was an injustice.

"That's a good girl." His palm clapped your leg twice before withdrawing from your dress and back to the wheel. "You're gonna show me once we get to the house."

Nausea settled in your stomach like a bowling ball. Between that and the unbearable heat, you felt certain you were going to puke. You nod because you have no choice, and unless you wanted to be strung up in the dungeon below the station, you had to play the part.

Left to ruminate in your thoughts, Bo drove silently up towards the old home. When he parked, he caught your wrist as you were climbing out. "Straight to the bedroom." His voice lost its pleasant southern twang and had become something angry. His eyes were dark, focused pools staring at you from below the line of his cap.

"O-of course, right away." The power behind his grip would leave your wrist decorated in finger shaped bruises.

Traversing the incline to the front door, you nudge inside and wipe sweat off your face. Before you could move up the old steps, something touches your shoulder and makes you jump.

"Vincent!" You whisper.

Vincent stood tall and silent, staring down at you through black holes in his mask. It had taken quite some time for you to adjust to, but still, the emotionless face could be quite uneasy. More than once, you had seen it from your peripherals, when in the shower or hanging your clothes up to dry. You knew Vincent had a fascination with watching you and often played into being oblivious to indulge him.

The hand on your shoulder withdrew, and he upturned his palm. Your eyes soften, and you offer your wrist. This was routine when you returned from Bo, and while Vincent was no gentle saint, he was far more kinder to you than the latter. His fingers close around your wrist in a gentle but encompassing grip as he begins to look you over.

"No new ones today."

He turns your other arm over, then tilts your chin and checks your throat. Inside the house was much cooler, yet you felt your body getting hot. You couldn't say if he cared out of compassion or pity, though you assumed it was the same care a farmer had towards their livestock. A press to your lips made your eyes widen and warmth bloom across your cheeks.

Your lips part for him as he presses over your bottom teeth and part of your tongue. With your jaw opened wide, you felt fear. Bo had always mentioned how terrible it would be if they had to remove some teeth for bad behavior. While Vincent had a softer touch, he had no problem bruising and taking from you what he could.

Heavy footfalls made you jump, and your eyes go wide. Vincent released your jaw and shoved you up the stairs knowingly. You don't hesitate or look back as you clamber the stairs and round the corner as the front door swings open. Bo's muffled voice emanates up through the floorboards below, and you silence your steps. Tip toeing into the bedroom, you flail your hands out in the dark, your memory of the layout serving you well as you navigate blindly to the bed.

Slipping your dress to your ankles, you step out of your shoes and climb onto the bed. His smell lingers there on the pillow beside yours, which prompts you to turn your head away. In the silence, you hear your pulse and nervous breathing. Your heart sounds like a frightened animal beating against a cage. You also hear Bo asking Vincent to do something for him. Perhaps he was sending him away from the house, back to the museum, where he wouldn't be nearby to listen.

Maybe he was asking him to come watch, to humilate you further by fucking you in front of him. You wouldn't put it past Bo to taunt his brother in such a way. It was no secret Vincent was charmed by you, and while that was no comfort in its own, you delighted in the fact it pissed his brother off.

Everything fell silent as your heart settled to a slower pace. Then, you could hear the steady climbing of stairs and a low whistling tune. Your throat was dry and head pounding from lack of water. If you could spare the moisture, you would have shed tears. After so many weeks trapped in Ambrose, you had hoped that the fear would go away. Instead, the fear had turned into uncertainty; how long would they keep you alive? You wondered if they would grow bored and discard you in the burn pile, or perhaps Vincent would cherish you as one of his figures. You tried to avoid those thoughts.

The whistling and footsteps came to a stop outside the door. "Honey," the knob twists and light cascaded across your bare form. His silhouette was massive and imposing in the doorway. There was a jaunt to his tone now, almost sing-song.

"I'm home "

[cyberrose2001]

I got this headcanon or fanfic idea I wanted to see again, of optimus prime with a chubby reader who is always very shy or timid trying to avoid getting op's attention after the leader himself decided to be their guardian, they would do that by just acting like some bg character ,their own business in their own spot,but always liking to look at Optimus, admiring him, having this nice feeling.

Optimus always questioned and wondered why after they came ,why they where the one to be less interacting, always on thr corner wacthing everything while playing with their fingers, and with now him being their guardian, he could have a better chance to talk to them and know more of them

I always find chubby reader stuff so cute ^^, it can be any gender , I got a little carried away with my mind

TFP Optimus x chubby!GN!reader

"I perceive that you are going through some inner conflict." Optimus continues to speak softly, "If it is any consolation to you, you are free of judgement whilst you are with me."

(I'm running out of gifs to use oop-)

This one was such a pleasure to write due to my own experience, I am always willing to write chubby readers and the fluff that ensues <3

Warnings: SFW, fluff, chubby reader.

Word count: 1071

You've been the quiet type for as long as you can remember, opting to observe everyone and everything around you. You had always told yourself it was by choice that your feelings towards yourself had no influence on your interactions with others and that you were only shy. But ultimately, you've always felt self-conscious about what others think, often comparing yourself to the more extroverted individuals and their confidence in striking up conversations with strangers. You wish you had that confidence, but no matter how hard you try, you get tongue-tied and retreat to a safe space, usually away from prying eyes.

But sometimes, the prying eyes find you again, particularly one gorgeous pair of blue optics that belong to your guardian. Of course, you try your best to hide from him due to his large stature and commanding yet gentle voice. Still, over time you found yourself catching glances with Optimus more often, and when you did, he always gave you a soft smile.

Optimus Prime was a very observant bot by nature; it came with his job being both the leader of the Autobots and an expert ex-archivist. He had only been your guardian for a few months. Still, he has picked up on the differences between the personalities of the other humans and you. Optimus is familiar with the others, being loud and at least somewhat interactive. Still, he had never met a quiet and timid human like you. It made him wonder why you acted so that you would retreat to the room's corners and avoid all contact with everyone.

Well, all verbal contact, at least. Optimus had noticed your increasing stares directed at him. He decided to pull you aside to try and talk to you, hidden away in his berthroom. Hence, the conversation is private but also in hopes of making you feel more comfortable. He still noticed you fidgeting with your fingers and absentmindedly picking at the corners of your fingernails. Optimus knew this was a self-soothing tactic and a clear indicator that you were anxious about talking with him. So, Optimus reached his servos down to ever pry your hands away so gently from each other to prevent more scratches that tattered your delicate skin.

"I must ask," Optimus runs a digit across your wrist. He can feel the goosebumps along with your hair standing on end. Optimus needs to speak quietly to be as un-intimidating to you as possible, "Why must you avoid speaking to me?"

It was a simple question to most, but you struggle to find the words yet again, and you can feel the familiar knot in the back of your throat. Optimus senses your inability to speak and gently squeezes your wrist to bring you back to the present moment.

"I perceive that you are going through some inner conflict." Optimus continues to speak softly, "If it is any consolation to you, you are free of judgement whilst you are with me."

Optimus is surprised to find a quiet voice piercing through the cold air of his room. Your voice is so soft-spoken that Optimus had to strain his audio receptors to hear what you were saying.

"I'm sorry, Optimus." You breathe out, unsure what to say next or how to relay your emotions. You are not used to laying your feelings bare for anyone to see, "I just worry about how people see me."

Optimus gives you a gentle nod in encouragement and understanding; this was about your self-esteem regarding your body. He understood that humans have a specific preference for body types. It not only confused him, but he found it rather foolish that, for their very short lifespan, they chose to spend it tearing other people down. But, of course, Cybertronians are quite the opposite. For the most part, his kind has moved past such trivial matters. But what does Optimus expect from a species so young with so much to learn?

"Has someone made you feel this way?" Optimus encourages you to open up to him further. Of course, someone had to or Optimus would not think you would feel this way. He believes you are beautiful and endearing despite your lack of attention towards him.

You trace the seams of his servos with your fingers to distract yourself more. Optimus' lingering servo still wrapped around your wrist, and if you were honest, it was causing your heart to race. You pray that Optimus hasn't noticed, "Many people have. They say that nobody can love someone like me."

"And that is the reason why you avoid us? For fear of judgement, is that correct?" Optimus listens intently.

"Yep..." You pull your knees as much as you can up to your chest and hug them, "I also feel like I have nothing to offer. Jack, Miko and Raf all have unique talents, and I can't even talk to someone without becoming a nervous wreck."

Optimus pauses for a moment, his glowing optics flickering over your form. He feels thrilled because this is the most extended conversation ever with you, and he appreciates that you feel comfortable enough to confide in him. However, he doesn't let his excitement show and continues using a soft voice.

"Y/n," He gently whispers your name. Then, he squeezes your hands softly, "Do you know why I have chosen you to be my charge?"

You shake your head, enjoying the pressure of his servos on your wrists, "No, not really."

"It is due to how much you remind me of myself before I was a Prime and an archivist." Optimus lets a servo trail up your arm to rest on your shoulder, "I was exactly like you, and I have reason to believe that you will accomplish extraordinary things one day. So do not allow other people to drag you down."

"And, to the people who believe you are unworthy of love because of your outward appearance." Optimus brings a digit to your plump cheek, "They could never be more wrong."

Optimus Prime's words of love and appreciation made your heart skip a beat, and you couldn't help but lean into his touch. You felt a smile creep onto your lips for the first time in a long time. For now, you knew that as long as you had Optimus as a guardian, you were safe. You could feel secure knowing no one would ever hurt or treat you poorly again.