#go back to that place. he feels like a complete failure right now.

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

the higher-ups (and Yaga) immediately trying to leverage Gojo & Ieri's absence to put Yuuta on the roster??? God that's such a stark moment. Thank god Nanami and Gojo saw through that one immediately, because Yuuta wants to justify his own survival so badly he would've fallen straight into it.

That whole scene, with Yuuta immediately jumping on the opportunity to help people even though something is Extremely Wrong with him and he's on the brink of physical collapse--this boy is selfless to the point of self destruction and I am chewing the drywall about it. I love him so much.

If only he was able to summon his newly found homicidal rage in defense of himself, the higher-ups would no longer be a problem. Alas, this boy is Extremely Unwell.

(Sea Glass Gardens is absolutely incredible and i am obsessed with it in a way that is totally and 100% normal. I'm so normal about it, trust me <3 )

The thing about Yuuta is that he really is prime to be taken advantage of right now and the higher ups know it. They had him try to kill himself for them--they know that there's a window of opportunity that they can use to get him under their thumb and avoid The Problem of Gojo, which is, namely, having a human weapon who you cannot fully control. Gojo nailed it from the beginning: they want a magic gatling gun with no personality or free will. They learned their lesson with Gojo and are trying to rob Yuuta of his agency before he learns how to protect himself.

And Yaga's part in that scene really was meant to kind of emphasize how, even with the best intention's, he just doesn't work to protect the kids. Like. everything he said was technically true, and he meant it with the best of intentions. He's the guy who has to think of everyone's needs. he has to manage this crisis. he's got a lot of people hurt badly who just came out of a war, and a lot of people going into fights with some very aggravated curses spawning without sufficient manpower to address the danger and no healer to save them if they cut it a little too close. He didn't have the intention of manipulating or sacrificing Yuuta, but he was aware that it would come to his detriment and risk.

The issue is the higher ups. They don't give a shit about the people in their workforce. They should be the ones doing whatever it takes to solve this crisis and save their people--and if that means giving up on their machinations? They should have already done it. It's their responsibility.

They just don't care. They want Okkotsu Yuuta under their thumb, and their society hemorrhaging is treated like an opportunity, not a dire problem to be solved. They don't care if half a dozen of their own people need to die to do it. Hell, it's better if they do die--they can put it straight on Okkotsu for not being willing to sacrifice himself, when they should have been making whatever promises they had to in order to make this work.

Gojo's done this before, is the thing. He was Yuuta, a long time ago. Nanami was right there watching it happen. They both know what the higher ups do: They let society get to a crisis level and put all the responsibility on you to save it. they let you maneuver yourself into a vulnerable position as a result, and then they use it as leverage to put their goddamn boot on your neck.

The thing is that Gojo adopting megumi all those years ago really did put them into a crisis state. the zenin pitched the mother of all bitch fits trying to secure his unconditional return, and they were a huge percentage of jujutsu society's labor force and resource pools. instead of the higher ups managing the problem at all, they took advantage of the situation and shoved more and more of its weight and responsibility onto gojo, until he was dropping off his own kid at his abusers' compound thinking it was the only compromise that could resolve things. megumi paid the price for gojo not calling bullshit, and right now, with him in a hospital bed? gojo's less willing to repeat mistakes than ever.

he knows that they're going to use the safety and suffering of everyone else as the leverage against him, and he knows that as terrible as it is, he cannot blink first. He's played this game before, and he knows that the only way to get the higher ups to back off on something like this is to dig in your heels.

I think what happened to Megumi all those years ago and how bad it got before they put a stop to it is something that haunts all three of them. When they first started raising him, they were very young, and they were very broken, and they loved him very, very much. He was their little boy, and he was never the same after the Zenin. They were supposed to protect him, and they didn't, and not a single one of them has forgiven themselves for that.

Megumi was sort of sacrificed for the greater good when he was a kid. None of them thought that that was what they were doing when it happened, but that's what happened. His happiness, safety, and wellbeing were sacrificed to pacify the Zenin and make it easier on everyone else.

Megumi and Tsumiki had to become their non-negotiables after. They had to become the things they refused to compromise on. The Zenin would take miles and miles if you gave them a millimeter, let alone an inch.

Gojo didn't think he was compromising them when he left them on their own to deal with Geto's war. They were disgustingly self-sufficient kids. They had been alone for longer stretches of time when they were practically toddlers--they should have been fine on their own for a couple of weeks.

But they were still his kids, and he still left them alone for everyone else's sake, and now his kid is blind and half dead in a hospital bed. It's like being punched in the face by old mistakes.

So they're off the roster completely, all of them. And they're not compromising an inch on what their focus is, and they're not letting anything happen to any of the other kids in their care.

It's terrible that their coworkers are suffering, but it wouldn't be happening if the Zenin hadn't fucked with Gojo Satoru's kid, of all the goddamn people. It wouldn't be happening if the higher ups would actually do their job and start managing shit.

And if they use Yuuta as an anxiety riddled bandaid on the bullet hole in their society? Then they'd be sacrificing him the way they sacrificed Megumi all those years ago. And they have never been less willing to do that.

I'm so so glad you like the story! Thank you for talking with me!

[shotmrmiller]

absolutely not a smoker but

imagine stepping out of that rowdy pub you tend to visit with your friends. The chilly evening air cooling your overheated skin.

The place can get a little too lively, sometimes you have to step out to take a breather. Or a smoke break, like in this instance.

Placing the lit cigarette in the corner of your mouth, you lean back against the brick wall of the establishment, feeling the cold seep through your jacket. Tipping your head back, you gaze at the night sky; shimmering specks of light scattered across the deep darkness, with the full moon gently illuminating the surroundings.

And then the pub doors squeal as they swing open, but you keep your eyes up and away.

Gravel crunches under the person's feet as they walk. Only for those footsteps to get closer to you.

God fucking damnit. You don't want to talk to anyone right now- your social battery is currently charging.

Exhaling softly, you close your eyes and open them as you turn to look at whoever is approaching and... the cigarette almost slips from your fingers from the fright.

A man that's a head taller than most, shoulders too broad, chest like a barrel. His thigh was the size of both of yours pressed together. He wore all black- the leather jacket creased around where the sleeves and where the elbow crooks. Well-worn but still in good condition.

But what almost sent your heart into failure was the skull balaclava mask he wore over his face.

Fucking hell, why is he staring at you like that?

Tapping the smoke with your pointer, you place it back in your mouth and pull the sides of your open jacket over your midsection, crossing your arms after.

"Can I help you?"

His response is immediate. "Bum a cig off ya?" he asks, a mancunian accent heavy on his tongue.

Shrugging to yourself, you shake the box and offer him the one, which he takes without even a thank you.

Ingrate.

"Got a match?"

Wordlessly, the lighter clicks once and a weak flame comes out of it. Only to get snuffed by the crisp breeze. Your thumb rotates the spark wheel once again, but this time you cup your hand around the pathetic little fire.

It holds long enough, so you watch him pull the mask up just enough to put the smoke in between his thin, chapped lips and lean forward to the lighter in your hands.

A warm puff of air extinguishes the flame.

His dark eyes cut to you- dark, nondescript. You flick the tip of your cigarette with your tongue in frustration.

Then his gaze wanders to the dim, orange glow on the other end. "Bum the light, then."

Your eyebrows shoot to your hairline but otherwise do as he says- rising to the tiptoes, and draw in a steady breath, the burning end flaring.

His face gets too close to what anyone would deem appropriate, getting a real good view of his unfairly long, wispy ash-brown lashes that framed his eyes.

The furl of smoke begins to rise, stinging your nose, and he finally straightens, the lit cigarette bouncing in his mouth.

The silence after is comfortable, just two complete and utter strangers having a smoke.

Tossing the filter to the ground, you step on it and crush it with your heel as exhale the remnants of it. A small wave his way and you head back inside.

If you'd paid any sort of attention, you would've noticed that the smoke that came out of his mouth was too thick, concentrated. As if it just sat there, instead of going through his lungs.

He gives it 3 more minutes before putting out his own, nearly full cig under his boot and following right behind you.

[smuthospital]

⭐️Yandere Gym Buddy⭐️

Premise: You made a new friend at the gym, and he is determined to make sure you get a good pump.

Warning: Non-con, fem reader

Minors DNI

Working out with you is almost too much. You're cute, smaller body is too much. The way you look up at him and thank him when he takes the weight off you when you push your body to failure. The way you whimper when you can't do one more rep. He first saw you looking at a machine for biceps and you seemed ok, but your form could be a bit better so he decided he'd help you by correcting it.

The next time he saw you, you were trying a bicep workout, but you were lifting too heavy and it was messing up your form. Proper form is essential to any excersize and without it, you could risk pulling a muscle. He couldnt just stand by and let you do that so he became your gym buddy whenever he spotted you.

You always look so nervous when he talks to you. You can't even maintain eye contact, but when you do, you look up at him and smile sheepishly. It warms his heart. You thanked him for helping you with your workout and walked on your mary way.

He smiled and continued on with his until he saw you patiently waiting for him to finish his set from the corner of his eye. You're blushing all cute and averting eyes again. He takes out his earbud and looks over at you. "I-I feel like I didn't properly thank you before so thank you again. I really appreciate your help," You say, becoming cherry red by the end.

He wants to just pick you up and take you home. You're like a cute little bunny. He's a respectful guy so he's only ever looked at your body in the places he needs to for your form, but he'd be lying if he said they never drifted to other places. From your sweet-looking neck to the curve of your back, all the way down to your cute butt.

The way your workout clothes fit your body so tight in all the right places. He wonders if you want the attention. When you wear crop tops...or when he's lucky and you wear your super short shorts. The ones that barely cover your...He shakes his head. He can't get hard in the gym again. "No problem. You're very polite, you know," He says. You knod your head in thanks.

You scamper off to go do cute girl things, probably. He hopes you don't have a boyfriend. Actually, theres no way you do. No man would let a girl like you out of their site. Especially in a testosterone filled gym. And talk to other guys? No way. If you had a boyfriend, your boyfriend would be fighting him right now.

If you had a boyfriend, your boyfriend would be laying on the ground, broken and defeated, bleeding from every orifice. He clenches his fists, his veins protruding. He'd lay the bastard the fuck out without a second of hesitation. No mercy and no reasoning. He finishes his workout with more vigour than usual.

The next time he spotted you at the gym, he saw some guy about to walk up to you. They're like fucking flies. This is the third one this week. He speeds up his pace and gets to you first before the fly could get its chance. The other guy turns tail immediately, confusing you because it looked like he'd wanted to talk to you.

"Hey, nice to see you again," he says, smiling that usual charming smile. 'The ladies probably go nuts for this guy,' you thought. "Nice to see you too!" Your voice is so sweet. It's like honey. He's memorized the texture of your sound. "Your arms look really good," you say, your face completely red. That came out of nowhere. He wonders how long you've been working up the courage to say that to him. He chuckles and flexes. "Thank you, I'm very proud of them."

He swears he could eat you up. Just the way you look at his body, whether it be in admiration or otherwise, it's all the same to him. "Do you want to get protein shakes after this? I can make them really tasty." You're going. Whether you like it or not.

"Oh..uhm, you don't have to! I don't know much bout protein anyway," you say nervously. Bingo. "Protein is incredibly important for helping you repair your muscles after you work hard at the gym!" He knows he's gonna convince you.

"O-oh, really? I didn't know that. If it's that important, ok then." You look off to the side, unsure about going to a mans house. He's feeling cuteness aggression. He wants to hug you and squeeze you so badly. His hands twitch, fighting the urdge to do so. He has to look away when you're doing a tough workout.

Watching sweat drip down your face is captivating. He imagines that face when he's alone in his apartment at night, his cock in hand. He just wants to lay you down on your back with him in between your legs...his thoughts wander too much. "Great, you'll love it!" He could'nt be more pleased with himself.

After you both finished, he waits for you outside the changing room. He was so giddy. He loves looking down at you..and seeing your cute little wonderous eyes looking up at him, like a confused little bunny. He takes your hand and leads you out to his car. You blush furiously at the contact. You get in the passenger seat and he drives you back to his place.

It's a really nice and expensive looking apartment building. Modern and well kept. It even has a gym inside. You wonder why he travels to yours. He takes you up to his apartment and you gasp. "It's so big!" He closes his eyes for a moment, imagining those words in a different context. "I'm excited to try the protein shake," you say, snapping him out of his fuzzy daze.

"Ah yes." He takes you over to his spottless kitchen and takes out a blender, some bananas, protein powder, peanut butter and milk. You lean over the counter to peer at what he's doing. Hes really good at making protein shakes. You wonder if he can cook aswell. You wouldn't be surprised. While you're lost in though, he has the perfect view of your cleavage. He bites his lip. Fuck. He feels his dick twitch to life.

He groans. He's been trying not to get hard this whole day. Good thing you're behind the counter. He pours the smoothies into two cups, his being larger because you dont need as much protein as he does. He manages to hide is boner well enough to make his way over to his living room with your cups.

He hands you yours after taking a seat, making sure to place a pillow in his lap. You take a sip. He loves the way your mouth opens and the way you lick your lips of the sweet drink. Fuck. He downs his and watches you. "Hey, so I wanted to ask if you maybe wanted to hang out..outside the gym again sometime?" he asks, looking hopeful.

"Oh..uh," you thought he wasn't interested in you! You were sure of it! He's too handsome for you! He's way out of your league. You've never been romanticaaly interested in him. You know your place. You just get really nervous and shy around pretty people. He's an extremely athletic man and you're a snail in comparrison! You're not even looking for a relationship right now! This is a nightmare! You just wanted to focus on yourself. That's why you started going to the gym.

Oh god, what do you do!? You stare at your drink for a while, the silence thickening by the second. "I...uh...." You want to go home and hide under your sheets. How will you ever face him again? It's over. No more gym buddy. He looks down at you, his smile and hopeful eyes fading. You... don't want him. You don't want him!? But...he's perfect for you...and you for him!

He doesn't understand why you could possibly ever not want to be with him. He wordlessly puts his cup down. You just need some convincing is all. You look up at him. He can see emotions swirling around in your eyes. He stands up to his full height, casting a shadow over you. "(Y/n),... change your mind." His tone is eerily calm.

"But...I wanna focus on.. myself-" He cuts you off. "No! I will focus on you. That's what you need. I will take care of you. I'm dedicated to you. It has to be claer by now that I want you." He takes the cup from your hands and sets it down before pulling you up by your arm and forcing you deeper into the apartment.

"Huh? What? N-no, where are we going? Stop! I wanna go home!" You cry, trying to struggle out of his grip, the grip of the arms four times the size of yours. You notice now just how big he is. Hes...massive. Taller than most men...broad shoulders, a large frame, and incredibly muscular. Your face pails. You... can't stop him. You were right to be nervous to come here!

He drags you into his room, making you sit on his bed. He doesn't open the lights, but from the moonlight shining in from the window, you can see the glinting of his hungry eyes looking down at you. His chest heaves. He feels fuzzy and lightheaded as he looks down at you...all his blood...has shot right down to his cock.

He can't think of anything but the way your thighs meet at that special crevice that he wants to explore. You're probably still sweaty from the workout... he's trembling at the thought of your soft body pressed against his toned self.

He pushes your upper body down a bit too hard and splits your legs apart, settling himself between them before leaning down. Your faces so close. You turn your face away, which just makes him get even closer to you, his nose touching your cheek, his breath fanning over you. With him in between your legs, you can feel the heat emanating from his crotch as it presses into yours. You whimper under him and he groans a bit. His cock has never been so engored before. Its unbarable.

"Please...take off your clothes...I don't want to hurt you on accident," he breathes, using all the remaining blood in his head to think straight, trying to control himself. You shake your head. "I-I can't!" Not a second after you speak, his hands grip your poor clothes and rip them to shreds like paper. He's wanted to do that to your workout clothes for a long time. They were always taunting him with the way they squeeze your ass or the way your pussy shows through the crotch area a bit when you're bent.

You suck in a breath to scream, hoping one of his neighbors would hear you, but he covers your mouth with his palm just in time, muffling your cry. "Shhh shhh... it's ok shh. I've got you," he coos, trying to calm you. Your chest heaves up and down as tears stream down your cheeks. Your face feels like its burning.

He replaces his hand with his lips and kisses you gently. You continue sobbing quietly into the kiss, not wanting any of this. He doesn't cover your mouth after he lifts his lips from yours. Hope for getting another opportunity dies within you as he stuffs your underwear into your mouth and ties it shut with the drawstring of his shorts tightly behind your head.

He kisses your cheek and stays right there for a moment, just breathing in your scent. You decide now is a good time to at least try fighting him with everything you've got. You headbutt him in the face, sending his head back a bit. He grunts in pain and looks back at you with a blaze in his eyes. A trickle of blood escapes his nose. He wipes it off with the back of his hand. He shuts his eyes for a second, trying to maintain his patience. He sighs. He's trying his hardest to be nice with you.

He places a finger on your chin, turning you to face him. When you refuse to face him and turn your head in defiance, he grips your cheeks roughly and forces you to face him. His eyes are stern. "Bunny, I don't want to hurt you." Is all he says. You dont take his threat lightly. He looks more than happy to actually hurt you. You don't believe for a second that he's being honest about not wanting to hurt you.

He lowers his shorts with his free hand, taking your silence as compliance. You see the bulge in his shorts reveal itself to be a monstrous size when free. It's..scary. It slams against your bare pussy lips. It's heavy, thick and demanding attention. It's veiny underside is burning you.

You swallow hard, trying to wiggle out from underneath it. You don't make it far trapped beneath him with nowhere to go. Your hands are free, but every time you try to do anything, he swats them away and.. after his previous threat, you don't want to know what will happen if you annoy him enough.

His hand comes down to your cunt and plays with your lower lips. He releases your face, knowing you'll behave. You writhe underneath him, pathetically kicking and pushing at his hand down there. His other hand grabs your wrist and and squeezes it and a painful grip, looking dead in your eyes as he continues to play with your cunt.

Another tear slips down your cheek. He softens his grip a bit before leaning down to kiss your tears away. Your tear-stained face, the way you whimper and your face scrunches in discomfort..is doing things to him. He's learned something new about himself just now. He wants to be inside you so bad, but he knows he'd tear you in two, even with all his precum.

Your gasp as he flicks your sensitive pearl. He can't help but chuckle. Without any warning, he slips his index finger inside your cunt and relishes in the warm wetness hugging it tightly. He just wants you wet enough to take him without too much pain. He just needs to be more patient, but... it's so hard with you making all those cute expressions.

"Pleath shtop..I..." The muffled words you were trying to produce disappear in a cloud of smoke as he curls his finger upwards into your spongy walls. Fuck. He loves when you beg him to stop. You moan so cutely. Your pussy twitches around him. He bites his lip. You're.. wet enough. It's fine, it'll fit. He can't wait anymore.

He lines his fat cock up with your cunt and slides it up and down your shimmering folds. "W-wai-" He cuts you off by sliding the head of his cock in. It's so fucking tight. He grunts and can't help but sink himself further in. He feels like he's going mad.

He bucks his hips forward, meeting resistance. Your cervix. He pushes forward still, eventually managing to bottom out, the shape of his cock making an appearance in your lower stomach. Your cunt needs to know his shape for next time. It's a good thing he stuffed your mouth because you've been screaming and crying like crazy. "I'm sorry, bunny. I didn't mean to hurt you. I got a bit ahead of myself. I'll be more gentle." He kisses your nose, his cock driving in and out slowly.

You're sopping wet now, the two of you can hear your insides gushing when he pushes in. You're so embarrassed. The pleasure is undeniable. You scratch his back as he pressed in again, his hips meeting yours snuggly. You can't hold it anymore! you let out a long whine as you cum, your walls squeezing him deliciously. He moans, driving his cock in and out, rapidly pounding your cunt into a fine paste. You come down from your high as he's still churning your insides and cry out again. You're too sensitive now!

You tap on his shoulder, but it garners no response. He lifts your legs and presses them back into your chest, getting even deeper. He's pounding into you like a wild animal. You feel the familiar knot in your lower stomach tighten. Your nails dig into his back, your eyes crossing as you come again. He grunts as you tighten around him once more.

He thrusts into you so deep that you can see the imprint of his cock in your lower stomach even more than before. Your cervix needs an ice pack. He grips your waist, emptying the largest load he's ever cum. You're so tired. He continues pumping himself into you lazily. He rests his body weight on you, squishing you and pressing his still-hard cock against your stuffed insides.

Cum leeks past his cock onto the damp bedsheets. He pants, looking down at you. "I love you (y/n)," he says with the most love struck expression you've ever seen. You look like an angel to him. All you can do is twitch and bask in the afterglow of what he did. His cock began to completely re-harden at the beautiful sight he created before him.

You're no longer gym buddies, that's for sure. Thanks to him, you might be parents. You should have just accepted his feelings when you had the chance. Now your guts are filled and you're trapped under him with your knees by your head. What a workout.

[radiocrypt-id]

The bad kids haven't really looked too closely at the Rat Grinders (meta wise I know it's a commentary on different play styles and how shitty xp farming is and how op players/parties can become by doing the bare minimum if they put in the time while everyone else plays the damn game) but I find the split perspective problems absolutely fascinating. I can't wait for the Bad Kids to look at the Rat Grinders with envy and anger that the Rat Grinders got to live a normal highschool life without all this insane danger and experience being a teenager without it being the end of the world for them. Right now they just hate the Rat Grinders energy and are matching it back (which is a very high school thing to do. To have beef with a whole other group of kids and not even know why but you'll die on this hill because they started shit first)

Because to the Rat Grinders, from a purely outside perspective, the Bad Kids are fucking monarchs of the school, right? They skipped classes, ran around town, fought people, got arrested, hung out with a big devil? Every new staff member came at their recommendation? One of them has both her dads working at the school?? The destroyed school property, got teachers killed, straight murdered the coach? These fucking kids run around and are apparently scott-free? because the principal liked their chaos enough to let it go and help them avoid the police? To the Rat Grinders, the Bad Kids are untouchable. They're exempt from the law. They're liars, cheats and need to be humbled. It's unfair. From everyone elses perspective, it really does look like the Bad Kids have been given crazy favourtism.

Meanwhile, all of the Bad Kids have died at least once. They've been irreparably changed and are in a constant state of fight or flight. They assume everything is dangerous and anyone might be an enemy because for two goddamn years that was the exact case! They couldn't trust any adult first year! Literally anyone could have been infected with Kalina second year! who knows what happened with the Night Yord but I fucking bet they had issues with Yorbies pretending to be helpful just to kill them! Everyone, for two years, has been out to get them! They can't even sleep! And now they have to grind so hard or they fail. Adaine has a seemingly full time job after school basically every day because she literally can't afford to live? Fabian has taken on the most physically strenuous classes and sport one dude could and has dreams of also being a social legend because he's fucking lonely in that big house and he just wants to fill it. If anyone in the party fails or dies Riz is shit out of luck and wont ever get into a university? He so desperately wants his friends with him so he's working over time and ignoring his limits to make up for his party members not caring about the future. Fig is going through the strangest arc I've ever seen in my life? she's hard avoidant and taking three classes, so a 250% work load, because she's desperate to fill her time so she can't think about all the other work she has to do that if she ignores too long could crush her under the debt of her band from her label, or how alone she feels without her girlfriend around. Gorgug is so desperate to prove himself that he's doing four years of school work in one, trying to play catch up and also prove himself at the same time, he's taking it all so seriously but also is so fucking tired. And Kristen. Mother fucking Kristen "hey girlie" applebees. Expected to dedicate her life to a god with no direction, with the weight of failure being her gods death, while also being in school and also at your friends insistence needing to run for student body president and getting your priorities so mixed up and being completely left behind by her peers who didn't have to rework their entire world view and understanding of life in the span of a few months every few months.

The Bad Kids are in a terrible place. They're suffering. I want them to just say it out loud, to stop pretending they have it handled and are fine. I want Riz and Adaine to yell at the party to get their shit together. I want Fabian to tell someone how alone and abandoned her feels. I want Kristen to scream at Cassandra that she agrees, that it's not fair, she's just a kid, how could she be enough all on her own with no help? It sucks a god can only rely on a child, for both the god and child! They're both suffering from this arrangement! Neither is happy! I want Gorgug to beat the shit out of Porter with his inventions and rage at the same time, to make the best shit and use it in the most stunning way anyone has ever seen. I want Fig to finally get some freaking help, to have her teachers and parents reach out in a meaningful way and stop telling her to figure it out alone because clearly the pressure is too much for her to handle and she's drowning. I want someone, anyone, to look at the Bad Kids and tell them to stop. To help them. But I know it wont be that easy. I know it'll be the Rat Grinders yelling at how unfair it is the Bad kids get everything while they're on the sidelines that'll get under the Bad Kids skin and they'll yell about how awesome they are and that they didn't ask for any of this shit to happen to them and to fuck off. I know it's gonna get so much worse before it gets better. I know they'll figure it out and that it'll be a painful road there.

[demigoddessqueens]

a what if….?

I’M FEELING ANGSTY AND I STILL HAVE FEELS

‼️ALSO MAJOR SPOILERS‼️ based on screenshots

don’t think about Miguel who’s bitter but endures the hardships with his heart closed off. Until now

He’s endured the loss through his family and his past failures weighing heavy on his mind, soul, heart

resigned to accept a lonely fate, there’s another Earth version of you and of all chances, you work within the society alongside him and the others

But he’s seen you before….or at least other versions of you, and he knows first-hand how it personally feels to let you down, to have failed you and he was helpless to save you

don’t think about how he so desperately wants to get close to you, it’s written all over his face. Jessica sees it, Hobie does; Peter B, Lyla, Pav, even Miles and Gwen see how he is around you.

The few times he’s let the mask fall around you, it’s a constant push-and-pull. You know his story, his failures, and Miguel knows he’s nowhere being the easiest to talk to or get along with, but you stay. And holding you in his arms as his lips touch you feels like a life he had not long ago

after the showdown with Miles, he’s back to his old ways and he feels you slipping away. It hurts, it tears, and sometimes he reminds himself he can never fully have you,

You go off with Peter B and Gwen and the rest of them, going against everything of your love, but you know it’s the right thing that has to be done

and most importantly, don’t think about Miguel tracking you down once he’s figured it out and the worst argument ensues until he breaks completely

“I’M NOT STRONG ENOUGH, I CAN’T LOSE YOU AGAIN —- I- i can’t lose you…I-I’m not strong enough still.”

You kiss him goodbye (for now) and find the others, placing the mask to shield him from seeing your expression but mostly so that you don’t see the heartbreak on his

[soupthatistohot]

BSD 109 Spoilers!!!

I will always always ALWAYS come back to this panel when talking about Asagiri’s storytelling.

At its very core, BSD is an absurdist text, Kafka Asagiri having been inspired by many absurdist authors. Franz Kafka, who he took his pseudonym from is one of them. Albert Camus, basically the most well-known absurdist is referenced with the Mersault prison, the name of which comes from a character in his most famous absurdist work, The Stranger. 

Absurdism is the belief that the world around us is irrational and inherently absurd and that explicitly seeking meaning is pointless. In his essay The Myth of Sisyphus, Camus explains, that there is value in the act of rebellion, though. Sisyphus, who has been doomed to roll a boulder up a mountain only for the boulder to tumble back down each time he reaches the peak, finds meaning in the act of continuing to push the boulder. Even though he will continue this cycle for all of eternity, he doesn’t just lay down and give up, he rebels against the absurdity of his situation by continuing to push the boulder, despite the seemingly futile nature of the act. 

As I said earlier, BSD is an absurdist text. All of the animanga’s main characters are on a journey of discovering their meaning in life, and their place in the world, and they do this by rebelling against its absurdity — especially Dazai. 

Dazai sees the absurd world for what it is, and when he was in the PM, he hated it. Thus, he sought suicide as a solution. I will note here that absurdists generally view suicide as a failure to rebel against the absurd, just giving up and giving into hopelessness. But ever since Dazai left the PM and took Oda’s advice, he’s been rebelling against this, doing good despite his inherent beliefs about morality and the world, and he’s absolutely gotten better for it. 

Other characters embody this idea of rebelling against the absurd, hell, that’s kinda what this whole arc is about. The world is literally ending, and things seem to be at their absolute worst, but someone like Atsushi still has hope that he can change the minds of the hunting dogs and save reality as we know it. He even has hope that he can get through to a vampiric Akutagawa when the guy is literally brainwashed and attacking him. Aya as the “last hope” right now embodies this, too, deciding that she can’t just sit around and do nothing and then trying to remove the sword from Bram even though the effort appears futile. 

But everything is going wrong right now. Fukuzawa is bleeding out, Dazai has just been shot through the forehead and appears to have died, Atsushi’s had his limbs ripped off and is at Akutagawa’s mercy, and Fukuchi is literally going to end the world! How can we have hope?!

Think about BSD. Think about the story that’s been told so far. Surely Asagiri isn’t killing everyone right now, surely the world isn’t gonna actually end. I’m not entirely convinced Aya’s plan is gonna work— but please consider that the point of absurdist storytelling is that even when everything seems to be at its worst, even when life seems completely meaningless, there is inherent meaning in still continuing to fight against this. 

BSD has never been a story where the villains win, and I don’t think it’s gonna start being one. I think, as usual, Asagiri wants to scare us, to make us feel hopeless about the situation, only for someone to pull through and completely turn the tides.

Dazai laying down and accepting his death at Chuuya’s hands is not going to be the end of his story, because it goes against everything Asagiri seems to stand for. Dazai wouldn’t just give up in his fight against Fyodor, because he needs to prove he’s right about what he says in this panel:

"The ones who actually make the world turn are those who scream within the storm of uncertainty and run with flowing blood."

I think this reflects Asagiri's own beliefs and is also the reason why he is not going to let Dazai die like this, because in a way, that would be proving that Fyodor is right. From a storytelling perspective, it’d be saying “everything I’ve communicated up to this point actually means nothing and life is truly hopeless!” 

Dazai has cheated death before, as has basically everyone else in danger right now. I promise you, something is going to happen and they’re all going to survive, because BSD is not trauma porn, for lack of a better term. It’s a story about how a group of people fight against the absurdity of their reality, even when everything seems completely and utterly hopeless. 

There’s a lot of theories circulating about how things could work out, especially Dazai’s “death,” and I’m not here to repeat all of them, but I will say that a lot of them have credence, especially because Asagiri isn’t the type of author to make mistakes, every single detail has a distinct reason. 

So even though I don't know how things are going to work out, I have full faith that they will, including Dazai's current situation. None of these characters are done just yet, they've got too much fight left in them to just give up.

[original twt thread]

[misstycloud]

Yan!husband x reader x Yan!ex

You and your dear husband have gained new interesting neighbours from your past. What will your former love say now that you’re promised to someone else?

————————-

“Phew, that’s the last one.” Arthur exhaled and finally allowed himself to take a breather. He reached his arms up and stretched his back, hearing satisfying cracks.

“Yes, now I can sleep.” You exclaimed bliss.

“Sorry, sweetheart. It’s dinner first, then you can sleep.” Your husband kissed you tenderly on the cheek and you groaned.

“No, it’s fine, I’m not even hungry.”

Arthur gently smiled with amusement, “Nice try, dear. But it won’t work on me.”

You huffed in frustration and crossed your arms in defiance for not being able to sway your husband, and said husband simply laughed at your failure.

You and Arthur had just come back from your honeymoon in the Maldives, which had been wonderful and deeply romantic. He had done everything to make it perfect for the two of you, always peppering you in his attention and affection. Never once did his mind stray to something else besides you. It seemed like he didn’t let you out of his sight, in the least.

It made you feel somewhat overwhelmed but you assumed every woman shared your notion. You had just married after all. It was normal. Completely normal.

Befor you flew on you honeymoon, you decided to buy a new beautiful house together. The apartment you lived in previously wasn’t bad in any way, tough you two wanted something fresh. Something that also came with a garden, of Arthur got to chose. Gardening was a hobby he’d picked up this year, he was capable of growing elegant blooms without struggle and it was something he took pride in. Some people-like you for example- clearly didn’t possess the green thumb like he did, you still tried to recreate some of his creations and failed miserably.

Luckily your then fiancé, didn’t judge people based on their ability to grow plants and didn’t kick you out.

“Honey, what do you feel like eating today?” Yelled Arthur from the kitchen to you, who sat in the living room.

The moving company had already placed your bigger furniture in the house, so you had something to sit on. It didn’t help the ugly view of the mountains of cardboard boxes laying spread out in the floor. The TV was also among the things to first be unpacked, you simply couldn’t live without it. Oh well, it it what it is.

“I dunno, pasta maybe?”

“Pasta it is.” He complied while opening a box that had ‘non-fridge food’ written on it, and grabbing a package of spaghetti. He knew exactly what dish to make and put on an apron.

Then he laid out the other ingredients needed and began boiling the water. As the man cut the vegetables, you approached him from behind and gave him a hug.

“Can I help?”

“I’d….rather not have you do that.” Arthur carefully admitted and turned to look at you with a sorry smile. “It’s better if you just go watch TV, and let me do the work.”

“But…” you began protesting, noticing the cutting board and the vegetables atop it. “I can help you cut the garlic and tomatoes.”

He pulled you back as soon as you prepared to grab the knife laying beside the board, and clasped your hand close to his chest, “Ah, darling! Don’t do that.” He blurted out.

“W-what, why?”

“Because I wouldn’t want my sweet wife to hurt herself.”

“I won’t, come on Arthur. It’s not like accidentally I’ll cut my finger off and then die.”

At your dreadful words, he hissed in response and quickly said, “Don’t say that.” And stared into your eyes with such determination and intensity that you almost forgot who you were and where.

“R-right, sorry.” You apologised for the gruesome picture you had painted in his mind and awkwardly turned your gaze to the ceramic tiles making up your floor.

“No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I’m keeping you from doing the things you want, I don’t deserve you. You shouldn’t have married me.” He explaned dejectedly and looked at the floor, him too.

“It’s fine, I promise.”

Arthur felt you softly caress his cheek and saw you smiling at him.

“I can go watch TV, no problem.”

You left him to his own devices in the cooking area and plopped down on the grey couch and scrolled through films you found uninteresting. Seeing you follow his advice, the man you call husband smiled in satisfaction and went back to cooking.

Throwing yourself on the couch, you groaned in contentment. You got to say that the food absolutely slapped and now your stomach demanded rest. Arthur was way to good at cooking, he seriously belonged in a culinary show or something. You had complimented him for his skills for years now and every time he brushed you off with a humble shrug, saying he isn’t all that and there are better out there.

“Ugh…”

“Don’t fall asleep on the sofa.” Arthur warned, preferring for you to go directly to bed instead of slouching off in the living room. Though if push came to shove, he would carry you.

“I’ll try…” you murmured and closed your eyes despite his words.

Seeing your drowsy form, he chuckled and continued doing the dishes. You on the other hand, struggled to keep yourself conscious and nearly fell to the grasp of sleep multiple times. When you felt yourself drifting off, you forced your eyes open, only to have them close again.

The sudden ring of the doorbell brought back energy, only enough to let you listen in. Arthur had went to the door when hearing it, and he wondered to who it could possibly be. Him and you were new here, so it couldn’t be a neighbour visiting for a friendly chat since no one knew you. He hadn’t ordered anything either and as far as he knew, you hadn’t either.

The man peeked outside through the peephole imbedded in the large piece of wood and saw an unfamiliar man-no older than himself- standing right outside. Compared to his own natural raven hair, the stranger had bleached blonde hair. Sadly it appeared someone hadn’t gotten the bleaching done properly for the strands had a yellow hue to it.

His clothes consisted of a harsh red t-shirt, quiet wrinkly Arthur had so admit. Perhaps did the man outdoors drop the bleach on his jeans as well, when changing hair colour. Because they too were stained with lighter colouration than other parts of them.

Deciding to ask him to what brought him to your home, Arthur graciously opened the door just as he noticed the blonde reaching for the bell a second time since no one had opened, and the lights were on which meant there was indeed someone home. What he didn’t know was that he had been scrutinised by a pair of grey eyes for quite some time.

“Yes, can I help you?” Said Arthur in a polite but firm tone, signaling he wanted no play and get right to it.

The stranger had stepped back a foot when the door abruptly swung open and a very tall-maybe annoyed- man stared down at him. Frankly, he wasn’t that much taller, but it still showed when standing so close to each other.

“Eh, hey.” He greeted, “I’m your new neighbour. Sorry to bother, but you don’t happen to have some eggs you don’t need?”

One of Arthur’s brows shot up at the question, “We do, in fact. Why? You want to borrow some.” The last sentence would have seemed like an inquiry, it clearly wasn’t, based on the tone he used. It was a statement.

The blonde gawkily nodded and laughed stiffly, “Yeah, sorry I get that you got here like today.”

“It’s fine.” Your husband sighed, “but don’t forget to pay us back.”

“Us?” The stranger said, slightly confused.

“Me and my wife.”

“Oh, sorry man. Thought you moved here alone.” He apologised.

Arthur didn’t wish to speak to this man longer than he had to. He would have preferred to slam the door in this rascals face and reject his request for eggs, but even he understood it was something that wouldn’t benefit you in the further. He had to make a good impression on neighbours in order to live without trouble, at least on a social level were you lived. It wasn’t fun to be at odds with your neighbour, you live in the same building after all.

Rolling his eyes, the black haired man left the blonde man at the house entrance to fetch some of the requested food.

While resting, you had listened to their entire conversation. And though you had no idea to who the stranger at the door could be, the voice did sound dreadfully familiar. You had defiantly heard that voice before, long ago. Getting up from your position, you followed your husband from behind and peered over his tall frame to spot a glimpse of the person.

When you saw them. You understood why the voice was so familiar.

Feeling your body stiffen and blood run cold, eyes widening you were only able to mumble, “…W-Weston..?”

Instantly when he heard your voice, the blonde man noticed you. And turned his attention on you with the speed of lightning, intensity burning. You gasped. His expression mirrored yours. The eggs he so wished to borrow splattered on the floor in a yellow goo.

“…(Y-Y/n)…..?” He uttered just as shocked as you currently felt. “What are you…?” Weston wandered off in the middle of his sentence.

As the exchange went on in stunned silence, your husband observed the scene with raised suspicion. Did you know this man?

Weston’s initial shock wore off and his features transformed into a supple smile, he stuttered as he tried to get his thoughts out. “I-it’s been so long….what a-are you doing here?” he heavily exhaled in amazement.

“I…I live here..” your answer was as stiff as a board and you glanced at Arthur, who was also looking perplexed at you.

As if he suddenly understood a hard math problem, Weston perked up, “Oh, are you visiting your sister and her husband? So you currently live with them? I know this is far from your childhood home.”

Damn, he had already began making assumptions. It would be very awkward to correct him now, but you couldn’t lie to him. It would just make things more confusing and complicated in the future when he wondered to why you hadn’t gone back to ‘your’ home.

Your husband reacted before you could, “No, she is not visiting. She lives here and is in fact my wife.” He spat, hating that he created theories on you relationship.

“W-what..?” He forcibly laughed as if he thought he heard wrong, “she’s your wife..?”

“Yes. Now who are you to be so familiar to my (Y/n)?”

“Me?” Weston scoffed, “I’m her boyfriend.”

Not wanting things to become more sour than it was, you hastily broke in, “Were, Weston. You were my boyfriend.” You reminded.

When you were 15 years old, you met Weston at your school. The two of you had been put in the same class and therefore had to work together on assignments, from time to time. Despite having gone to the same school since elementary, you had never properly spoken to each other. Simply overlooking the others existence unless you had to interact. Like, during a game of tag, for example. Those were circumstances you needed to talk, but didn’t further the relationship. Choosing to stay with your respective friend group.

The time you really started hitting it off were when you had a super important assignment that would determine a great deal of your grade that year. So that was when you really focused and took the task seriously, and spoke carefully about what would be a good idea and what wouldn’t. Compared to previous pair work, where you and Weston didn’t speak five sentences to each other, came to an agreement instead of ditching as soon as you could like you had done other times. So it wasn’t weird that you two started hanging out and chatting more now that you found out that the other party wasn’t all that bad, as you might’ve thought.

Aquintances turned to good friends, that became best friends, which eventually blossomed to romance.

Weston was your first boyfriend. He was your first everything, and you were his first as well. As you were so young back then, you stupidly believed you’d stay a couple forever. Reality proved your belief wrong as it does most of the time. When you got older, you wanted to peruse different things. The deduction to break up was mutual, though its reinforcement was mostly you and met with some resistance from Weston. However, it all ended anyway.

Hearing your defiance, Weston yielded. “Yeah….right.”

“You were..dating..” you heard Arthur mumble under his breath, not sure if he wanted an answer or not you still said.

“Yeah, back in high school and such. Sorry, I didn’t know he lived here, too.” The last part you murmured in his ear, quietly.

“Sooo…you’re married!” The blonde exclaimed an unnaturally cheerful voice. “I’m glad, hehe. You did always wish to get married, so that’s great.” He let out an equally strained laugh.

“Eh..yeah, hehe. I guess so.” You pretended that you didn’t remember that he was the one you had wanted to marry in your younger days. And now it was weird since you were indeed married, just not to him. “So you live next door?” Bending down, you collected to egg shells still covering the floor.

“Yeah, I do.” Weston copied your movement to help you clean up the mess he’d made but was stopped by your spouse, who sent him another one of his furious looks.

The tall, dark haired man couldn’t bear to see some pathetic lowlife from the past ruin things between you and him. Things had gone to perfectly smooth in the latest years, and no one-exactly no one- will he let destroy it.

Witnessing your husband aiding you in your job, he retracted his hands and stood there as still as whatever is the ‘still-est’

“Don’t worry, I’ll get some new ones for you.”

“No need, it’s not that urgent. I promise.” he reassuringly stated.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Shrugging, you went to the kitchen to throw away the discarded shells and grab a towel to wipe the egg yolks. When you came back with the paper, your surprise visitor was gone like the wind.

“Where’s Weston?” You asked Arthur, sending him a perturbed expression.

The man told you not to worry, “He’s gone home. It wasn’t urgent, like he said. He said to me he would simply make something else to eat.”

Thinking it was a bit rude to just rush off like that, you couldn’t blame him for it. This unexpected meeting was rather startling. The next time you’d run into him(which you’ll undoubtedly do), you’d try to be as nice as possible to him. Being enemies with neighbours was a freaking pain in the ass. No thanks.

“Okay, I’ll let him borrow things in the future if he’d so wish. “

“That sounds great, honey.” Arthur gazed at you as you closed and locked the front door after Weston’s departure. Then as you ventured back and up to the second floor, leaving Arthur alone in the the same position.

His smile had faded significantly and he muttered, “This can be a problem.”

——————————-

[claudemblems]

You Make Him Feel... | Genshin Impact

Ft. Kaveh, Alhaitham, Diluc, and Kaeya

I love these boys 🥺💖

Kaveh: Like He Has No Worries at All

All the stressors in his life -- the debt, the secrets, the frustrating roommate, and the picky clients -- vanish from his mind when he's with you. Your presence fills him with such a foreign sense of peace that makes the unending volume of thoughts in his head go silent. The only thing occupying his head space noa is you. He can't remember the last time he's felt so at ease. For a long time, he's lived in fear of his carefully crafted façade shattering, leaving behind shards of his failures in its wake. But you...you're the mirror reflecting all his hopes and dreams, his wants and desires. You're the looking-glass that shows him the bright future waiting ahead of him. Every time he looks at you, he sees what can be, what will be, so long as you choose to remain by his side.

Alhaitham: Like Everything Makes Sense

There are some things in this world that cannot be fully understood no matter how much a person researches, theorizes, and attempts to know them. Logic is a guide, not an answer to life's every question. But somehow, your very existence challenges these "truths". For the first time in his life, Alhaitham has found something that he is completely sure of: that he cares deeply for you. With each passing day, he finds his mind becoming clearer, his love for you growing more and more sure. Rationality dictates that he should not be unfazed by the chaos that surrounds him, nor should he find himself smiling in the face of adversity, but he does. The unknowns in his life are finally understood. The burning questions in his mind have found their answers. You are the key that opened his once locked heart, and now through your eyes he's able to make sense of the world around him: and truly, it's beautiful.

Diluc: Like There's Good Still in the World

For a long time, Diluc believed he would never open his heart again, not to anyone or anything. His world had already been destroyed by the death of his father and the reveal of his brother's teue identity. All the good things that were once his had been ruthlessly torn from him, his hope and optimism vanishing alongside them. His heart seemed to be wounded beyond repair, with scare hope of it ever going back to the way it once was, but that all changed when you came along and mended it. Little by little, he noticed how the sun shined bit brighter, how the bitter taste of wine grew sweeter, how your smiles made his monotone world burst teem with colors. He realized that he'd been wrong all along: goodness did exist in this world. Every time he looks at you, he's reminded of it, and he's determined to protect your heart of light that helped to guide him home to you.

Kaeya: Like There Are Second Chances

The painful memories of a day long ago had engraved themselves deep into Kaeya's heart and soul, a permanent reminder of all that he had once cherished and lost. Guilt followed him like a shadow, and loneliness clung to him like a curse. After losing all the people he loved, he thought that there would never be another place in this world for him. That was until your path converged with his, and he found himself believing that just maybe he could have another chance in this life, so long as you would have him. Indeed, the moment you accepted his affections, Kaeya knew you were a blessing sent his way, the answer to the question he'd been asking for so long: could he really start over and make things right again? With your every careful touch, every gentle kiss pressed against his skin, every comforting word whispered into his ears, the answer was an unequivocal yes. He would accept this second chance with grace, vowing this time to protect you, the person he loves -- to keep you in his arms and never let go.

[lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom]

Can I request a Hunter x female Y/N comfort/whump paternal fic plz? <3

Btw I loved your Crosshair x Y/N fic <3

Knight in Rusty Armor

Hunter x Reader

Summary- After a bad run-in at a market, Hunter has to save you and Omega. You can't help but feel like a failure for not being able to protect Omega by yourself...

A/N- Thank you so much for requesting! I'm not completely confident in my ability to write Hunter, but I tried my best!! Hope this is what you had in mind, XoXo.

Word Count- 2,118

You could feel his gaze on you from a mile away. It seemed that no matter the circumstance, Hunter was there.

While you were grateful for him, always- you couldn't help but feel like he didn't trust you. Well, maybe trust wasn't the right word. Nevertheless, he had to accompany you and Omega for a trip to the market.

Everyone had been flying for days and needed a place to resupply. Stretch their legs. You offered to take Omega to shop for some new clothes. She had rips in her shirt- ones that were barely held together by your sewing. So it seemed natural that you would take her, being the only other female on the ship.

Even before landing, you brought up the idea of you and Omega going to Hunter. You wanted to spend some time with her alone. One might have even said mother and daughter bonding...

He turned you down immediately. Rightfully so, as it was a foreign place. But you still wanted to compromise.

That's where you were now, looking through bounds of outfits. Varied from dresses, pants, jackets, and finally shirts. Hunter kept his distance. He did understand that Omega needed some 'girl time' with you, as Tech called it. He also understood that you two were the most important people to him, and he wanted to protect you at all cost.

When you and Omega stepped into an actual establishment for children's clothes, Hunter stood outside the door. Close enough that he could hear Omega laughing.

She picked through a rack, showing you the shirts she thought looked silly. The two of you got a couple odd looks, but neither of you cared.

A particular neon-green tube top grabbed her attention. She picked it up and joked that she wanted it.

"Yeah, very stealthy Omega." You said, playfully.

She giggled and put the shirt back. The two of you proceeded to go to the cashier with the 3 other shirts you found. Ones that fit her and were darker tones.

You immediately noticed that the owner of the store had a sour look on his face. This resulted in you putting on an cheery attitude, being extra kind.

"Ten credits." The yellow man stated, ignoring your pleasantries.

"T-ten?" You sputtered out, shocked. The tags on the clothes clearly stated 'one credit each.'

"Three for the clothes, and seven for the ones you insulted. Now an additional two for arguing with me." Since when was asking a question arguing.

Omega looked up at you, wondering what you would do next. You didn't have Ten credits on you, though you knew Hunter would let you tap into his personal stash if you asked. In this matter however, three shirts were not worth ten credits.

"Sir, i'm sorry about the comments. But we meant no harm. I can give you three credits for the shirts, as they are priced. No more." You reasoned with the man, knowing how bad Omega needed new clothes.

"You are not leaving this store until I get fifteen credits from you." He grumbled and reached for his blaster.

"Excuse me?" You were taken aback. Who did he think he was? Your own blaster was already raised.

"We don't have fifteen credits, and will be leaving now." You said, dropping the clothes. You were frustrated that the day had turned bad.

"Then she can work them off." He shoved his blaster to Omegas temple. Omega had left her energy bow back at the ship, and her borrowed blaster was on the side of her leg.

"We really don't have time for this, sir." You said before effectively disarming him. Your own blaster shot right past his shoulder, missing on purpose. It distracted him long enough for you to knock his blaster out of his own hand. Omega reached down to grab it- both guns now pointing at him.

It was as simple as it seemed, the guy was inexperienced. What the two of you didn't anticipate was Hunters call.

After rushing outside, the building was surrounded by men that looked like the store owner. Yellow with three horns on their ugly face.

What you would find out later was that the store owner had a bad temper, and went ahead to call for back-up. He was determined to make you all pay. Insanely petty if you could say so yourself.

Nevertheless, firing commenced. Again, it was easy. Even though they had numbers, they didn't possess the same skill as the three of you. Maybe that's why you got cocky?

Maybe that's why you found yourself with a blaster pointed at the back of your neck. The store owner! How did you forget him, you and Omega had rushed out without a second thought.

"This time, disarming me won't be so easy." You felt his breath on your ear, disgusting.

"Put the blaster down. Now." Hunter commanded. If you had your thoughts straight, it would have been really sexy.

"I don't think I will. I want 100 credits. For my time, and having to deal with these ratchet things you call humans!" The man insulted.

You smirked, "Not a wise decision." You remarked. Now it was personal- Hunter did not take insults to his girls lightly.

"Yeah, and what do you know? You're the one with a blaster poi-" He was interrupted by Hunter shooting him. Hunter wasn't as forgiving as you. The man fell, you didn't even look to see if he was alive.

With a puff Hunter started, "Let's get back."

"Are you okay!" Omega jumped to your side, calling your name.

Her voice sent a pang down from your spine to your stomach. She shouldn't be worried about you... She should feel safe and protected. All she saw was you getting risky and dumb. Now she thought she had to worry about you... You felt shame rush to your cheeks in a pink hue.

This Hunter took notice of, he was confused. There was nothing to be embarrassed about? At least he didn't think so.

The walk back to the ship was mostly silent, except for Hunter confirming we would try another market soon.

You kept your head up, now being over-cautious, hand hovering your blaster. That was until Hunter took your hand in his. He smiled at you. He could feel the tension off your body. He'd ask about it the second you got some alone time.

You looked at him and swallowed. You only felt more guilt. How was he so collected but ready to engage in combat at any moment. All of it just made you more insecure, what did you bring to the table?

Your thoughts were interrupted by Omega, pulling on Hunters free hand.

"Hunter! Can I pleeeeease get some!" She gestured to a bag of sweets for sale. A mix of fruity candy, lolli-pops, and chewing gum.

"I don't know Omega." He started, but after seeing her face fall he followed it with- "Okay, but you'll have to share it with Wrecker."

She jumped up, hugging onto his arm. "Thank you! You're the best dad ever!" She giddily said, snatching the credit he held out for her.

His face brightened up, it was his turn to wear a light pink hue. Omega didn't even seem to realize what she said, but you gripped Hunters hand tighter.

"Dad... I like it." You leaned onto him, resting a head on his shoulder. Your arm now fully wrapped around his.

"She probably didn't even mean to say it..." He doubted, not wanting to think anything that wasn't mutual.

"Don't sell yourself short, Hunter." You said, not looking up at him, but rubbing your cheek on the material of his shirt.

Omega bopped back over and the three of you headed back to the ship.

Sleep escaped you, tossing and turning. The thoughts of the market kept you awake. This was not normal. You had all been in crappy situations like that one, why did it affect you so much?

Having Hunter save you wasn't something you resented, it was quite attractive. Just this instance. You had been so careless... You could have put an end to it all, but forgot to immobilize the main threat. You huffed and puffed, trying to get out your frustrations.

You were so lost in thought, that when Hunter placed a concerned hand on your shoulder- you jumped. He pulled away instantly, thinking he might have hurt you in some way.

"W-what?" You asked, squinting up at him. It seemed that no one else was awake, Hunter being the only one on watch.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong, sweets?" He asked, hearing his nickname for you was enough to calm you down. At least, enough to get up and settle in one of the cock-pit seats.

You took a deep breath and sat up. He steadied you, an arm wrapping under your armpit to hold you.

"Just can't sleep." He knew there was more to the story. That was a big part about why you loved him. He was more than attentive, and the most selfless lover you could ask for.

"Come sit with me." He suggested, pulling you up with him as he stood to his feet.

He still had a hand rested on the small of your back as he led the two of you to the cockpit,

"So, what happened at the market?" You looked down, shame flooded out of you. Seemingly for no reason. You opted to sit down before answering.

"I let Omega down... There's nothing else to it. It was obvious." You almost felt angry that he didn't see the situation as you did.

His face scrunched up, eyes burning at you. He blinked several times before replying- "What are you talking about?"

With a groan you spoke again, "I can't even protect her from an angry, stupid, vender! You had to save us!" Your voice cracked at the end.

"I thought you didn't mind wh-" You cut him off

"I don't, I just-" You grumbled, frustrated that you couldn't find the right words.

"It's okay, you didn't let anyone down. Everyone is safe, it was just a small mishap." He reasoned, hating that you felt anything less than perfect. If only you saw yourself as he saw you.

You took a quick breath, "One day it won't be a 'small mishap' and something might happen to Omega. I was careless! Now she knows I can't protect her. I'm supposed to be the person she can run to... She must be so disappointed."

You let your head fall into your hands. You rested there for a moment, that was until Hunter made his way in front of you. He gently grasped your hands in his.

He lifted one of your hands to rest on his cheek- the tattooed one. You moved your thumb across the black lines.

"Omega thinks the world of you... nothing will change that. Who knows what would have happened if I wasn't there. If I hadn't called you out, you would have been able to think on what to do with the owner, right?" He explained, trying to shift some of the blame to himself.

You nodded at his words. At this he brings his free hand to rest on your cheek, matching yours on his. His words made you feel some relief, but you couldn't deny how you still felt guilty. Guilty that Omega may have thought differently now.

"Thank you..." You sniffled out, his words making your eyes water.

You leaned in for a kiss, only to be interrupted by a rustling.

Omega. Her light voice called your name, just before jumping onto you and Hunter. He held her steady as she fell into your arms.

"Today was so fun... I'm not disappointed!" You gasped slightly at her words, "You heard all that?" You had a worried look on your face.

"You guys are my family. I'll always feel protected with you." She leans into your arms, head resting just under your shoulder.

"I don't care about the mean guy, I had the best day ever... Can we visit the next market we find as well?" She said, excited, looking up into your eyes.

How could you say no to her sweet face?

"I think Hunter, Wrecker, Tech, and Echo should come too. Maybe they will have as much fun as we did shopping!" You and Hunter both laughed at this.

"i'm not so sure shopping is Tech's thing." Hunter joked.

You laughed again, wiping off the last tear on your face. Your anxieties had finally died down.

Hours later, Hunter would find you both asleep in the pilots chair- Omega rested snugged in your arms. That is, with evidence of the last candy all over Omega.

A/N- Thank you so much for reading! I didn't have a strong vision for this one, but I told myself I had to finish it before starting another. I also went off of some Star Wars article saying that 1 Credit is equal to 5 USD. Sorry if I got that wrong! As always, I am open to constructive criticism!

Tags- (lmk if you want to be tagged as well!) @thethreeeyed-raven @knight-of-flowerss

[noxturnalpascal]

Devotion 🖤 II. Predator or Prey? (Ch 4)

CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.

*This series is 18+ MDNI. I will not be listing individual chapter warnings as I don't want to spoil the plot of each chapter. Please see the series masterlist for entire series warnings to decide if this is for you.*

LAYOUT OF JOEL'S HOUSE

PREVIOUS

II. Predator or Prey?

CH 4 (4.8k) The following Sunday everyone in town is gathered at the old church with the big white steeple for the weekly Valley meeting. After a midday interfaith service, the religious leader gives Joel the floor for his usual speech. As he always does, Joel begins by extolling the virtues of the community, speaking on their recent raiding successes, and then reviews the three tenants. 

We are stronger together. It’s important that everyone finds a place within The Valley that caters to their strengths, so we can depend on each other and serve one another. The predator versus the prey. You have to be one or the other and we choose to not be anyone’s prey. This community is held above any other and we must protect it at all costs. Create a path to the future. Everything we do here paves the way for us as a society to beat the fungus, to find a cure, and to return to the top of the food chain. 

The crowd listens, enraptured, nodding along and smiling as Joel holds them in the palm of his hand. He praises the men and women who patrol the perimeter of the community for their diligence and bravery. He thanks the farmers who live outside the town borders for their perseverance. Then he scans the crowd, looking for you, to silently acknowledge how grateful he is for your presence. But all he sees are the same eyes over and over again, looking at him with devotion and reverence. He usually sees you in the second row with the rest of the house, but you’re not there.

As his speech winds to a close and he heads back to his front-row seat, he realizes that you were in the crowd with the rest of his household. You were there in the second row the whole time, staring at him just like the rest of them do, with blind adoration, with expectation, with mindless loyalty. He’d felt a change on Thursday. After the meeting he’d touched you everywhere, gotten down on his knees for you, and worshiped at your altar. He’d felt something shift and now the wild look in your eyes is gone.

You’re completely devoted. You’re under his spell. You’re one of them.

One of us, he corrects himself. You’re one of us, just like he wanted you to be…. Right?

You watch Joel speaking at the meeting and it's as if his words have new meaning – like he’s speaking directly to you. You’ve never felt small or beautiful or feminine, but he makes you feel whole. He makes you feel strong. He makes you feel like a woman. You feel like you were supposed to be his, always. And it was always supposed to go like this, as if your whole life has led you to this moment. All of your failures have led you here, to him. 

The trepidation you felt when you first got here has completely disappeared and you know that you’ll give everything you have to Joel. You’ll give him all of you, your mind, body and soul, gladly. He can fill in all of the broken or missing pieces of you. Every bad thing that ever happened to you Joel can fix. He can heal the parts of you that weren’t good enough, that weren’t pretty enough, that weren’t smart enough. 

He can save you. 

As soon as the crowd begins to move out of the large room and amble towards the dining hall next door for dinner, he grabs your arm and pulls you roughly into a small supply closet. It smells of lemon and vinegar and is far too small for two people to move about comfortably. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care that there is a crowd of people on the other side of the door or that he shouldn’t be asking you to do what he’s about to ask you to do.

The look in your eyes has gone to his head, he needs to see your supplication right now. He needs to witness your devotion, he needs to give you communion. He pushes you down onto your knees, undoes his pants, and offers himself to you. It’s your first time seeing the size of him and you look willing to comply, your eyes still dazed and glowing, still filled with trust in him. He watches as you take hold of him with one hand and begin to lick and kiss the head, slowly dragging your tongue up and down his shaft. 

Once you put him fully in your mouth he loses all patience, needing more immediately. He pushes your hand away and takes your head in a firm grip on either side, pausing as you look up at him. Your eyes are still glassy. He nods his head and you reciprocate, which he takes as permission to begin drawing himself in and out of your mouth, gently pushing your head forwards and backwards. 

Slowly, he passes back and forth over your lips, allowing you to adjust to him. This only lasts for a few thrusts before he begins to move faster, deeper. He matches the movements of his hips with his grip on the sides of your head, coordinating them to fuck your face in earnest. He hears your gurgles and sees tears beginning to run down your cheeks but you don’t push him away, so he doesn’t stop. He tells himself that you want this. You want this as much as he does.

You kneel beneath him, knees stinging on the hard floor, mouth full and struggling to breathe around him. You’re not sure where this is coming from, but it's obvious that he needs this right now, and what you want above all else is to give him what he needs, to be everything for him. You place your hands on his thighs to brace yourself and try your best to breathe through your nose, to be quiet and still and exactly what he needs you to be, even if this is painful and uncomfortable.

You wish the tears would stop streaming down your face. You’re afraid to even look up at him, worried that he’ll take one look at you and think you’re not enjoying it. What if he thinks you’re having a terrible time, what if he thinks you look awful, what if he thinks he’s hurting you? Maybe those things are kind of true, but still…. What if he stops? What would you do with yourself if he stopped? If he didn’t want you to do this anymore?

You finally look up and meet his eyes. You barely recognize him, his eyes black and his face hard. He doesn’t even meet your gaze, it’s like he’s staring right through you. His pace begins to falter and his hips start to stutter, and you hope it means he’s nearly done. You’re trying so hard to bear this, to not choke, to not cry, to ignore the stiffness in your jaw and the stinging in your knees, but you don’t know how much longer you can do it.

“Are you gonna swallow it?” he huffs out, voice strained. He pulls himself out of your throat until only the tip of him rests on your lips.

“I’ve never–” you swallow back a gag, “I’ve never done that before.”

“But you will, right?” he nods his head as he asks.

He nods, so you nod. And you will. You’ll do anything he asks of you. You don’t have time to wipe your face, which you’re sure must look a mess, before he puts his entire length back inside your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. You can’t stop your body from heaving as he pushes in, and part of you wonders how he’s able to ignore it. He’s usually so in-tune with you.

He lasts less than a dozen more thrusts before his hips stutter to a halt as he starts to release his orgasm down your throat. You feel hot spurts hitting the back of your mouth and you’re awash with shame that it instantly makes you want to gag. He needs this, you tell yourself. You have to be good for him, you have to do a good job for him. You have to be everything he needs you to be.

He pulls himself back so his cock rests on your tongue as he continues to come, coating your mouth, and now you taste him for the first time. The salty bitterness covers your tongue and you’re begging yourself not to retch. He holds your head still, encouraging you to swallow him, even placing one hand over your throat and telling you don’t spit, and swallow it all, which you do with difficulty.

When you’ve swallowed every drop, he seems satisfied and lets go of your head, tucking himself back into his pants. Without warning he turns and walks out of the closet, leaving you to lurch forward since you were resting on him for support. You fall forward onto your hands, catching yourself before your face meets the ground, scraping your palms a bit on the dirty linoleum.

You stay there for a moment like that, on all fours, in a cleaning closet, alone. Down here it smells like musty mop heads and mildew. Down here. On your knees. For Joel. Days ago you were alone with him and he was the one on his knees, worshiping your body, treating you like a goddess. Today he used your mouth like a fuck toy. No, you can’t think like that. That’s not what Joel did, he would never do that. 

You run the last ten minutes through your mind a few times as you slowly get up and brush yourself off. He needed you. He could have anyone here but he chose you, out of everyone. No one ever did that before. No one ever chose you over anyone else. But Joel did. Joel needed you today and you were able to be there for him, and that’s what matters. 

Joel pushes his way through the crowd, not an ounce of shame or regret present. He smiles and shakes hands and gives hugs. Everyone in The Valley looks to him for answers, for guidance, for leadership. He’s the reason every single one of them is here and he’s responsible for them all. They are his flock and he is their shepherd. He gives so much of himself to be here, to do this. He deserves the adoration and the appreciation. He deserves you. He deserves your body, your mouth, your reverence.

He knows you’ve changed since you arrived, you’ve become more trusting, less wild. You’ve morphed into what they all wanted you to be, a devoted member of The Valley. He’s changed also. He used to be different, back when you first met. Back then he could give you pieces of himself, his real self. But the more you’re drawn to him and the more you’ve trusted him, the more he's become unworthy of your trust. He doesn’t even remember doing it intentionally, but it’s done.

He’s slowly lured you into his trap and now, you’re caught.

–

The rest of the week your head is completely filled with thoughts of him. He’s your first thought in the morning and your last thought before you fall asleep. All night your dreams are filled with him, and you cling to the fleeting images of him when you wake. You can’t seem to get enough of him, aching to be near him every moment of the day. You stare at him longingly across the table at every meal and follow him around like a puppy whenever you can, unable to focus on anything else.

Joel himself is so lost in his own delusions of grandeur, he walks around the house with his head held high, cocky and full of himself. He can feel you staring at him all the time and he indulges you once in a while by taking your hand and grazing it across his lips, down his chest, over his burgeoning erection. He’s half-hard all the time now, anticipating. He’s convinced that you’re going to let him fuck you after the next Thursday meeting. He’s going to have you, he’s going to have every piece of you.

The days leading up to it, he thinks about it all day; his dick achingly hard but he refuses to jerk off now, wanting to save it for you. He’s practically vibrating with anticipation when Tess comes up to him Thursday before dinner and gives him the bad news. She tells him you’re sick, started throwing up a couple hours ago, and won’t be able to accompany him to the meeting.

Before he can argue, Tess waves her hand in front of his face, telling him not to worry, that Kerri will be going with him instead. Without a moment for an argument to leave his lips, Tess slips away and Kerri is standing in front of him. She has been living with them for almost a year now, since he found her battered and bruised about a half day’s ride from here. 

Kerri is petite, has chin-length curly hair, a toothy smile, and a faint scar stretching from her left temple down to her jawline. She walks with a barely noticeable limp but always pulls her weight around the house, doing most of the meal prep and impressing everyone with her fine cooking skills. She is nurturing, generous, pretty, and maybe the last person Joel wanted to see tonight. She’s not you. He wanted you.

He’s made so irritable by the last-minute change that he can’t even hide his disappointment. He can barely focus during the meeting, getting easily distracted and having to ask people to repeat themselves. After the meeting, Kerri, sensing his unease, gives him a hug to try and ease some of his tension. He knows she feels his erection, how could she not? It’s been raging for days and he can’t help himself, he pulls her tight and grinds himself into her for a brief moment of satisfaction.

Back at the house he heads into his room but within minutes Kerri is knocking on his door. She asks, is this okay? and he hesitates. She hasn’t come to his room since before he brought you into town, but pushing his dick into her thigh at the meeting tonight for the small relief that friction brought him must have signaled to her that he desired her company. He doesn’t. He only wants your company.

He looks at the closed door to your room and thinks about you inside, sick, probably asleep. What would be the harm in seeking comfort from Kerri? He’s fucked her before, it’s not a big deal. He’s never fucked you, it wouldn’t be like he was cheating. In fact, he thinks you’d probably want this for him. You wouldn’t want him to be suffering, and he’s been painfully hard for days. You’d want him to have relief.

There’s a small voice screaming in the back of his head that he ignores. You’ll never have to know about Kerri. You didn’t know about her before and you won’t know about her tonight, and what you don’t know can’t hurt you.

He opens his door further, silently inviting Kerri inside. She attempts to kiss him but he won’t let his lips meet hers, instead kissing the side of her head, her cheeks, her neck. He tries to breathe through his mouth, unable to get over the scent of her that isn’t at all like yours. He lets her hands grope along his body and he closes his eyes tight, trying to imagine they belong to you instead.

She undoes his belt and pushes his pants down with a practiced hand as she palms his length, working to get his half-hard cock to come to life. Between her curls tickling his chin, her all-wrong scent, and her rough touch, he can’t seem to keep his erection. How is he supposed to fuck away his need for you if he can’t stay hard?

Wordlessly, she sinks down to her knees in front of him. Don’t worry, she says, as she puts him in her mouth, doubling down on her efforts to work his stress right out of his dick. With her not-your scent, not-your hair, and not-your face out of his line of vision, he’s able to let his mind wander and let his thoughts of you return.

He imagines you on your knees in front of him, thinks of you in the closet with your lips wrapped around him. He thinks of your wet mouth, your soft hands, your wild eyes. That does it. He comes immediately and without warning, causing Kerri to cough and sputter around him, spitting his come back onto him. His own release gets splattered onto his thighs, slides down his shaft, and drips from his balls as Kerri wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, rising to her feet. 

“Uhhh, thanks hon,” Joel mutters, as he pets her head and pushes her towards the door.

You know it’s probably close to midnight when you rise in your bed, having spent hours throwing up and then sleeping. Your body is tight with pain, you feel flushed and sweaty, and your head is pounding. You should drink the water Tess left on your nightstand but you worry that it might cause you to throw up again. You were really hoping to see Joel when he got home from the meeting tonight, so when you hear his door open, you heave yourself out of bed and turn your doorknob to greet him.

You see Kerri leaving his room as he stands in the open doorway, pants undone and softening dick still dripping with the evidence of his release. Kerri doesn’t see you as she heads down the hall to her room but Joel’s eyes rise to meet yours for a brief moment before you hastily close the door. You hear the clinking of his belt and then hear his voice directly on the other side of the wood.

“Hey baby, how you doin’?” 

Your head is spinning, you’re sweating profusely now, your pulse throbs behind your eyes. Did you really just see what you think you saw? It was pretty dark in the hallway, maybe your eyes were playing tricks on you. You’re pretty sure you have a fever, maybe you’re hallucinating. Joel lightly knocks on the door and you jump. 

“You alright?” he asks. 

You mutter back a yeah before you stumble towards your bed, wondering if this is all just some bad dream. Joel wouldn’t be fucking around with Kerri, he wouldn’t do that, he isn’t like that. Joel doesn’t use people, right? Joel is yours… right? This must all be a nightmare you’re having. You’re taking short, quick breaths now, fighting to remain conscious. You fall onto the mattress. You’re so fucking sick and as your head hits the pillow you let sleep overtake you.

After a long, fitful night’s sleep, you wake in the late afternoon, feeling slightly less feverish than the day before. You’re immediately hit by a wave of panic, feeling tightness in your stomach and it starts to hurt, causing you to fear you may throw up again. You saw Joel and Kerri last night, and you’re pretty sure she wasn’t helping him with a stuck zipper. You need to talk to Joel, you need to confront him about what you think you saw. You need to hear him tell you it’s not true.

Joel is sitting at his desk, going over the patrols for the upcoming Christmas holiday, when you knock at his door. He’s been waiting for you to come see him since you caught Kerri leaving his room last night. He knew he’d have some questions to answer, he’s just not sure yet how he’s going to answer them. He knows he was well within his rights to have Kerri get him off, he just hopes you don’t come crying to him, jealous and angry.

He opens the door for you and lets you into the office. You enter the room and round the corner away from the door, keeping your gaze at your feet. You fumble with your hands but don’t speak, attempting to gather the courage to ask a question you’re not sure you want the answer to. Joel opens his mouth to start the conversation but before he can speak, there’s another knock at the door. 

He moves to open the door and Rosie, all five feet nine inches of her, is peering at him over her glasses. She throws her arms around him, pushing him back into the room a little, whispering in his ear.

“I heard you were stressed out honey, I can help ya out a little,” as she lowers herself to her knees.

Joel doesn’t even have time to protest as she reaches for his belt, looking up at his face. She stills her hands and follows his gaze behind her, turning back to meet your eyes, which are bulging out of your head.

“Oh PJ, I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t know you were in here.” 

She gets up off her knees and quickly exits, leaving you and Joel alone once more. Joel knows the other shoe has dropped. Some of these women have been here for a long time, some for a short time, they are free to come and go if they desire, but living in his house is considered a privilege. He’s the leader of this community and to be able to help take care of his sexual needs and have him take care of yours is held in high honor. 

The women who live here aren’t petty or jealous, they are sweet and giving people, hard workers, and dedicated members of The Valley who make sacrifices and put others – notably Joel – first. They’ve been keeping their distance out of respect for the obvious affection that you and Joel feel for each other, but they must think that since Joel seems stressed then it’s their time to step in and perform their usual duties.

They don’t know that you aren’t aware of the long-standing arrangement they have in this house. They don’t discuss things over the breakfast table but they also don’t keep things secret, because they don’t know that it should be a secret. They’re all open and honest with each other and have no idea that Joel has kept you in the dark about his relationships with them.

Of course, you have been kept in the dark, and now that the light is shining – too brightly – on the truth, it’s making you sick to your stomach. You stare at the ground where Rosie was just kneeling in front of Joel. You know that what you thought you saw last night was, in fact, Kerri leaving Joel’s room after getting him off somehow. It happened. It was about to happen again. It’s probably happened before.

“It’s all of them?” you ask.

Joel shrugs.

“It’s all of them,” you say again, not a question this time. Your vision is going blurry from the blood pumping through your skull so hard. You’re afraid you’re going to pass out. “You fuck all of them?” 

“I have, yeah,” Joel says, shrugging again.

“And you plan to fuck me too?” You can’t even meet his face, your mind is reeling a mile a minute.

“You’re welcome to come to my room anytime you want, baby,” he answers casually. Goosebumps roll across your whole body and you fight back a dry-heave.

“Like they do?”

“Sometimes,” he fucking shrugs again. “It’s not a big deal, PJ.”

You barely hear him, the sound of your own heartbeat creating a hum in your ears, the sick feeling in your stomach rising up your throat, threatening to spill your insides out at your feet. Not a big deal, he says. It’s not a big deal that he’s been lying to you since the day you got here. It’s not a big deal that he wants to use you just like he’s apparently been using these other women, that he wants to use your body for his pleasure. It’s not a big deal that you thought he was different.

And now you see the cracks in this whole place, see it for what it actually is. This place is upholding a façade of a normal society, but it isn’t even close. Joel is treated like some kind of god or king or both and no one says no to him, he gets whatever and apparently whoever he wants. You can’t believe that he made you feel like you mattered when you clearly don’t matter at all. 

You thought he could fix you. All he did was break you. You’ve never felt so low.

“Just another one,” you start to repeat, “Just another one. Just another one. Just another one.”

You’re just another one of these things that he gets when he wants it, and he gets whatever he wants. 

“Just another one. Just another one. Just another one.”

He’s just another man, in a long line of many, who used you.

“Just another one. Just another one.”

He walks towards you, backing you up against the wall, bringing his face closer to yours. Baby, you hear him say, as he brings his lips towards yours. He tries to kiss you but you shudder away, repulsed by him, and he grabs for your arm to pull you back to him. Overwhelmed by his scent and the clawing tightness gripping your insides, you bend at the waist and throw up all over his shoes.

“What the fuck,” he curses loudly before he takes a deep breath, calming himself. “You okay, PJ?” 

He reaches for you again and you push him away, a loud sob leaving your lips. Oh fuckin’ christ, he mutters. Here come the fuckin’ waterworks. You’re making a big deal out of nothing and he’s getting annoyed at the theatrics. He grabs your arm and yanks you up, ignoring the vomit dripping from your chin and the tears streaming down your face. 

“Quit bein’ dramatic,” he says as he shakes you by the arm.

Tess comes in the door just then, seeing your face and the way Joel is manhandling you. 

“What the fuck, Joel?” she wrenches you out of his grip, touching your forehead and feeling your fever. 

She sees the throw-up all over Joel’s feet and sees him roll his eyes. She has no idea what’s going on right now but Joel has lost all his tenderness with you. She scolds him for letting you out of bed, telling him you’re still really sick. She takes you back up to your room, makes you drink some water, and tucks you back into bed, threatening to call the doctor if you try to get up again before your fever breaks.

–

Later that night as Joel heads up to bed he goes to your door and knocks several times, but you don’t answer. He knocks again, no answer, and knocks again. Tess comes out of her room and down the hall, having heard the noise he’s making knocking repeatedly at your door.

“Leave her alone Joel, I told you she’s fuckin’ sick.”

“Shut up Tess,” he doesn’t even turn to look at her. “Get back in your room.”

He throws your door open and sees you laying in bed with your back to the door. He says your name several times but you don’t move a muscle. He takes a step forward, his foot crossing the threshold to your room.

“Don’t you dare,” Tess snaps at him. 

His steps halt. He says your name again, louder this time. Aside from the rise and fall of your breathing, you don’t move. He knows you can hear him, the whole house can fucking hear him. Tess is behind him, berating him some more. He repeats your name, yelling now. He hears a door down the hallway open, yells again, hears Tess hissing stop it, goddamnit, and then hears another door open.

How dare you fucking ignore him. Who the fuck do you think you are right now? He lifts his foot to take another step into your room and he hears Tess start to go ballistic behind him, cursing and bellyaching.  Why don’t you fucking look at him? He hears whispers of the other women further down the hallway. Jesus fucking christ, why don’t they leave him alone? Why don’t you roll over? 

He steps back into the hallway and slams your door closed, rattling the walls of the entire house. “Go to bed,” he screams at Tess. “Go the fuck to bed,” he repeats down the corridor as he steps into his room, slamming his own door behind him as well.

🖤

NEXT

Thank you endlessly to @papipascalispunk for helping me with this series and listening to me rant about Cult Leader Joel. 🫂 I appreciate you SO much.

TAGLIST (lmk if you wanna be added or removed) @strang3lov3 @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @covetyou @iamasaddie @sr-lrn @clawdee @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @merz-8 @speckledemerald @alltheseperfectimperfections @survivingandenduring @afraidtofear @millennial-teenybopper @missladym1981 @xdaddysprincessxx @lumoverheaven @ghoulettesinspace @brittmb115 @wintersquirrel @obscurexsorrows @littlevenicebitch69 @lulawantmula @pedroswife69 @joeldjarin @heimtathurss @untamedheart81 @pixielou5 @feel1n-h1gh

[strawberrystepmom]

gojo x f!reader are in a semi established relationship aka idiots in love. reader is a teacher/sorcerer. reader is referred to as future wife in jest. angsty to start but gets sweet at the end. italics indicate reader’s internal thought. this is v self ship coded bc a girl has been Experiencing. wc 1.2k

divider thanks to @/cafekitsune

Why did I agree to stay and do this job in the first place?

The thought ricochets between the walls of your skull like a speeding marble, rolling so quickly it’s nothing but a technicolor blur that will settle wherever it wants when all is said and done. You don’t have the luxury of a distraction tonight and after a terrible day, your confidence and what feels like your sanity is in splinters. It has felt like this for months if you dare to be honest with yourself and now the unavoidable wall of your own mind is in front of you.

The too hot shower you just finished that left you breathless and warm cheeked didn’t rinse away anything except for the external grime. Your brain itself still feels thick and heavy, temples pounding while you shrug the robe wrapped around you to the tile floor below. It is far from your favorite thing to shower on campus but you had the intention of washing all the misery off and leaving it here rather than dragging it back to the currently empty apartment you share with Satoru. He’s off on another mission hours and hours away from you and your bed feels like a labyrinth when he isn’t sharing it.

A little voice in your head convinces you he’s taking these missions solely to get away from you in this state and you can hardly blame him. As hard as you work to keep a smile on your face, you fail more often than you succeed. The weight of said failures and struggles makes your head even heavier, resting atop your neck like a crown of thorns.

It’s late and you haven’t even bothered to think about how you’re going to get home from campus, still decompressing from your first solo mission in a while after being looked at by Shoko for minor bruising. The mission was completed successfully but it merely added to the weight of the loneliness and hurt you’ve been feeling. Being responsible for ending suffering you didn’t create is a heavy burden.

Your phone pings on the wooden bench in front of the lockers near the shower and you grab it, sniffling. Glancing at the screen, you gnaw your lower lip and a tear streams down your cheek. You’ve cried so much lately it never comes as a surprise when you start again.

Satoru: call me?

Normally his message and the use of the winking cat sticker in addition to the words would make you smile but you can’t find it in you to do that tonight. Of course, he’s already heard about your failures. You’re certain your employer, friends, and community keep him on speed dial to come and gather your pieces when you can’t keep them together. You have doubts about how well meaning their intentions are; everyone loves a downfall after all and yours feels closer every day.

You: still at the school and can’t talk. love you, be careful.

Someday I’ll push him away and it will stick.

One day, soon you imagine, Satoru will decide everyone was right about you all along. You’re avoidant and selfish, a mess on a good day. Your bones are good but the flesh that covers them is rotten as a discarded plum, falling from the branches of the only home it has ever known, at the end of spring. You are no good. Not like him, even in his shades of light gray morality. Not like your fellow sorcerers. Not like your students.

Your phone pings again.

Satoru: why are you making me suffer???

Satoru: please please please please please~

You place the device face down and focus on changing into the extra set of clothes you always keep in your office. Sorcery is messy work and your shaking fingers fasten each of the buttons on the simple white top.

Why do I keep doing this?

Vibrations make your phone move across the wooden bench and you jump, picking it up with a sigh.

“What?”

A chuckle from the other end, one that instantly makes the tension in your shoulders relax, isn’t as unwelcome as you assumed it would be when you refused to call him. You picture his smile when he laughs, the dimples you love to press your thumbs into. Even your tortured mind conjures memories of the delicate crinkle of his nose when he grins and the cleft in his chin.

“Someone has her sassy pants on today.”

Sighing, you let the world roll off of your shoulders. Finally.

“Technically I don’t have any pants on right now.”

“Without me?” He sighs and then remembers you said you were still on campus. You hear him shift wherever he’s at and you sit down on the bench, preparing to put your pants on, holding the phone to your ear with your shoulder. “Why are you pantsless on campus? Is there something you need to tell me?”

A snort escaping in response, you smile for the first time in what feels like days. Truthfully it has only been a few hours, you’re a pro at keeping up appearances at the very least, but each has felt more and more forced.

“Nope, just had to wash off some gore and didn’t want to bring it home with me. They’ll probably ask us to break the lease if we start washing curse chunks down the drain.”

He chuckles again and you want to be frustrated with how carefree he seems but find it difficult to hold his good nature against him.

“Aren’t you considerate?”

Sliding your pants on, you stand in a fluid motion and hop to settle them in place on your hips, fastening the button.

“Something like that,” you mutter. Sitting back down on the bench, you cut to the chase. “When are you coming home?”

“Why? Miss me?”

“Terribly.”

You respond flatly and suddenly your phone chimes, a request to video chat coming through from Gojo. Answering it, you don’t bother to hide the wistful smile on your face and he grins at you from your bed at home.

“Well come home then, I’ve been waiting for you.”

“You could have led with the fact you’re there.”

He twists his mouth to the side and shrugs. Rolling your eyes, you smile back at him. It’s impossible to stay mad at someone you love so much it threatens to tear you into pieces when he’s gone for too long.

“I wanted to surprise you and it looks like I still managed to do it.”

“Yeah, you still manage to do that a lot.”

“Oh stop it, you might make me think that my future wife actually likes me.”

Giggling, your face warms at the insinuation he’s making. He can tell you’re feeling better now that his eyes are on you and the relief he feels is immeasurable.

“Hurry, I’m getting bored and you know what happens when I get like that.”

You know better than anyone that a bored boyfriend spells nonsense so you pack up the last of your things, ready to leave your troubles behind on campus just as you intended to start with. Self doubt, suspicion, distrust - it’s all gone as soon as he gives you his grace to carry on.

“Don’t get antsy, I’ll be there soon.”

Another irresistible chuckle comes through your speakers and you feel lighter than air by the time you disconnect from the call and prepare to head home.

He’s the moon that guides you through the darkest nights and tonight is clearly no exception, his cool and disarming light shining through all of your cracks to remind you things are brighter than you think.

[ghostieagere]

Lil idea;

Phantom wakes up from nightmares on tour, and goes small because he's scared. He got stuck rooming with Dew though who still isn't too keen on the new ghoul yet

Does Phantom wake him up for comfort? Does Dew let him come have a cuddle? How does Dew react to the other being small?

No pressure to fulfill if you don't want 🫶

oooh i love this idea, anons !! hopefully this is what you were hoping for <3 oh, and i've used the name phantom since that's what was in your requests :D (this one didn't quite turn out how i was expecting, but i hope it's still okay !!)

cw: nightmare, brief mention of (imagined) blood, some wonky descriptions of what's actually happening because of reality confusion, hot chocolate fixes everything, they/them phantom

~

Phantom doesn't really know what's going on. Everything about their movements feels almost soupy, as if they're walking through jelly or wading through the water of the Abbey's lake. They can't be in the lake though. Everything's hot, too hot. It reminds them of their summoning, choking on the ash that swirled around them, catching it in their lungs until it made a home in the alveoli there and altered their breathing permanently. It's not until they hear the echo of Sister Imperator's voice through the smoke and fog swirling around them that they realise it doesn't just remind them of their summoning, it is their summoning.

Immediately, they panic. They've already lived through this, it shouldn't be happening again! Did they get sent back to Hell? Is it because they weren't good enough? Why are they being summoned again? Why would anyone summon them again if they were such a failure? Why does everything feel so fuzzy? Why can't they breathe?

The quintessence ghoul jolts awake breathing heavily, completely and utterly confused, panicking internally. Wherever they are now, it's as dark as their summoning and they still can't breath, but at least they don't feel quite so soupy anymore and the air around them doesn't seem to be filled with smoke either. It's not quite so hot either. Well, everywhere except their cheeks, that is. When they go to touch the heat searing their cheeks, their hand comes back wet. Immediately, they panic again. It's too dark to see the liquid on their fingers but it must be blood, they must be bleeding. Maybe that's why they can't see, their eyes are bleeding and stopping them from being able to see what's happening around them.

A soft snore to their right makes them whimper in fright and wrap their blanket more tightly around themselves. Someone is in the room with them. It sounds... a little bit like Dewdrop, they think. Phantom doesn't know how to feel about that.

They'd never admit it out loud, but Dewdrop is scary. He liked Aether a lot, and because Phantom's taken his place, Dewdrop doesn't really like them very much. At least, that's what Phantom thinks. They don't think it's because Dewdrop's shy like they are, so the next logical step is that he mustn't like the quintessence ghoul very much. Another snore from Dewdrop makes Phantom flinch and whine again. Every new noise they hear has them wondering if they're still in their dream—they can still feel the ash in their lungs and the heat of the fire on their face—and they want comfort from it, but they don't think they're quite brave enough to walk to Swiss' room and ask for help. Come to think of it, they don't even remember which hotel room Swiss was assigned this afternoon anyway. Even if they could, they're all staying in some kind of bed and breakfast, so the doors don't have numbers on them.

They take a shaky breath and look over at Dewdrop's sleeping form. He's facing away from Phantom but the little quintessence ghoul can see his back rising and falling slowly with every breath he takes. If Phantom wants help, they're going to have to ask Dewdrop. Going to have to call up all that bravery Swiss says they have deep inside their chest and wake Dewdrop up to ask for his help.

Phantom takes as big of a breath as they can manage to psych themselves up before they throw off their blankets—keeping one wrapped around their shoulders to keep themselves warm—and makes their way over to Dewdrop's bed on shaking, wobbly legs.

~

"Dewd'op. Psst, Dewd'op you godda wait up."

Dew groans and rolls over, eyes still closed, barely processing what's happening around him except for an incessant shaking of his shoulder.

"Dewd'op I– I hadded nigh'mare. Wad sca'y. You godda wait uuuuup Dewd'op!"

Slowly, Dew opens his eyes and takes in the sight before him. Phantom standing over him, a blanket wrapped around their shoulders, hair sticking up in every direction and tears running down their cheeks. Even though Dew's eyes are now open, Phantom doesn't stop shaking his shoulders or begging him to wake up.

When he sits up, Phantom gasps and tries to jump backwards but their foot catches on the blanket dragging on the floor behind them and they trip. The little quintessence ghoul lands on the floor with a thump and after a few seconds of delay, starts sobbing in earnest.

Dew immediately jumps out of bed and crouches down next to Phantom, cradling the little ghoul's head in his hands. "Baby bug, are you okay?"

Phantom hiccups and shakes their head sadly.

Dew hesitates and hopes it doesn't show on his face. He's so out of his depth here, not just with taking care of a little—in situations like this, Dew is usually the one being taken care of—but with taking care of Phantom. Dew's been doing his best to keep some level of distance between him and the quintessence ghoul this whole tour. He's been telling himself it's because he hates Aether's replacement and doesn't want anything to do with them, but deep down he knows that's not it. He knows that as soon as he spends genuine time with them, he won't be able to resist their wide-eyed charm and innocent and will end up—Sathanas forbid—caring for them. He knows this because it's exactly what happened with Aurora. "Do... Do you want to talk about it?"

The little ghoul just cries harder. "You won' un'ers'and me," they whine helplessly, wriggling their body and flapping their arms in frustration. "Bad at talkin' when 'm liddol!"

The fire ghoul rushes to shush them. "Baby bat, I can understand you perfectly, I promise. Okay?" He waits until they nod slowly, still sobbing and wriggling around as much as they can under Dew's gentle grip on them. "Now, how about we hop back up onto my bed and we talk about what happened in your dream, yeah? I'll keep you nice and toasty warm while you talk, bub. Promise. Does that sound good?"

Phantom sniffles and nods, doing their best to wipe at some of the tears in their eyes. "Da's good," they repeat shakily, holding their arms out hopefully and making a grabbing gesture in the fire ghoul's direction.

He tilts his head at them, evaluating. "You want me to help you up?"

"Uh huh. Uppies," they state simply. Well, Dew can't argue with that. He leans further towards them and lets the little quintessence ghoul to wrap their arms around his neck.

He lifts them up and walks the few steps backwards until the back of his knees hit the bed. Phantom lets out a surprised squeal and and buries their face in Dew's neck when Dew sits both of them down on the mattress by letting his knees give out under him without warning. The fire ghoul makes sure to kick his internal temperature up a notch or two now that he and Phantom are sat down as he scoots back to lean against the headboard and wraps the little quintessence ghoul's blanket more tightly around them to keep them warm.

"What was your dream about, baby bat?" He bounces the little quintessence ghoul on his knee as best as he can from how he's sat up on the bed. A small giggle bubbles up from beneath Phantom's tears.

"Uhm," they start nervously. "Gotted summ'ned... Wad hot an' fire an' didn' breev." Despite Dew's gentle stroking of their shoulder in an effort to calm them down, Phantom is beginning to hyperventilate again. "Wad sca'y, Dewd'op! So so sca'y!" They finish their statement with a terrified cry and bury their face into Dew's shoulder all over again, sobbing quietly.

Dew holds them tightly against his chest, nuzzling his cheek against the top of their head sympathetically. Their summoning was much like his own elemental transformation in a way—full of fire, ash and searing pain—so he likes to think he has at least some idea of the nightmares the little quintessence ghoul has been suffering from.

"Well," he starts, having taken note of the way Phantom had only grown more upset when talking about their nightmare, despite their insistence that it would help. "I think we need to find a nice distraction for you, hmm? What do you think about that, bug?"

The little quintessence ghoul nods slowly against Dew's chest, their breathing gradually evening out as they zone in on the sound of the fire ghoul's heartbeat through his pyjamas.

Dew smiles down at them softly in a way he knows he'll deny later on if they ask him about it and bounces them gently in his arms. "I think hot chocolate always helps with nightmares," he declares, standing up again with Phantom still tucked up in their blanket in his arms. "Should we go down to the little kitchen and make some, baby bat?"

He's already carrying them out of the door by the time the question leaves his mouth, but Phantom doesn't need to know that. Besides, their enthusiastic nodding lets Dew know that the little quintessence ghoul holds no objection to a bit of late-night comfort snacking.

He makes his way down the rickety staircase to the small kitchen area and sets Phantom down on one of the kitchen chairs as he does his best to navigate the kitchen in search of a milk frother and milk that's actually within its use-by-date. He finds fresh milk in the fridge, and although he can't locate a frother, he does manage to find a coffee machine hidden away in a cupboard with milk frothing attachments. It's not perfect, but it'll do. Especially at this hour of the night when Phantom's already almost falling back asleep in their chair.

To ensure he won't have to locate a first aid kit after a sleep related, falling out of their chair incident, Dew keeps talking as he potters about the kitchen, finding the hot chocolate powder, mugs and spoons in the unfamiliar kitchen. He'd overheard Phantom and Rain watching an episode of some kind of kids television programme, so he asks them all about that while he works. The little quintessence ghoul perks up immediately, waving their arms around in the air, blanket slipping off their shoulders as they talk excitedly about a dog called Bluey and the adventures she gets up to with her sister.

They've barely made it halfway through their jumbled-up retelling of the episode before Dew is draping their blanket back around their shivering shoulders and pressing the warm mug of hot chocolate into their hands. They gape up at him when they see the marshmallows floating in their drink.

Dew grins and presses a finger to his lips. The pack usually avoid giving sugar to Phantom when they're dropped, for no reason other than they tend to get a little hyperactive from a combination of excitement and the accompanying sugar rush. Dew doesn't mind having to deal with their high later on though. Besides, he thinks they deserve a little treat after the terrible night they've had.

He takes a seat next to them after he's sure the little quintessence ghoul is as comfy as they can be in the straight-backed wooden chair they're sitting in and wraps his hands around his own mug of hot chocolate. As soon as Dew has sat down, Phantom launches into their episode recap once again, now struggling to wrap their words around a mouthful of fluid; Dew has to remind them to swallow before they run the chance of making a sticky, hot chocolatey mess all over their comfort blanket.

At the rate the little quintessence ghoul is talking and the first signs of early morning light peeking over the tops of the curtains in the kitchen window, there's a fair chance that Phantom won't get back to sleep until well after their ritual tonight, but Dew finds himself unbothered. As long as they're contented, warm and relatively unbothered by their nightmare right now, the fire ghoul is just happy that they're happy. If they really need it later on, the two of them can curl up for a nap in the back of the tour bus, but for now, they're content to sip their hot chocolates in peace while Phantom recounts their favourite episodes of this show they're clearly obsessed with and pulls their blanket a little more tightly around their shoulders, not a trace of worry visible on their face in the slightest.

[icouldntfinditsoiwroteit]

Made something?

I've been really obssesing over poppy playime lately, the game is so damn good, I genuinly love it, so this is mostly just work in progress and a small "lab test" if you may when it come to my writting since I want to experiment with stuff.

"You....Your Poppy's angel" Those where the first words you heard from to the giant mangled creature that resembled the critter Dogday.

"Come to save us" His voice was hoarse, his lower body completely gone, all the while his hand where held unto metal hooks to keep his body...or what remained of it suspended in the air.

"Nothing left to save...not here" How right he was, you had come here to try and get answers, at least to try and understand what had happened, what had gone wrong and yet you had only found death and failure...but this was new.

"You're in Catnaps home, angel" For the first time since entering this forgotten place you had found...suffering...fresh real suffering, of course you could guess Mommy longlegs had died painfully but that ws nothing compare to this...thing...

"Their home, a million pairs of eyes are on you now," This was never meant to happen, you had come here with a clear goal and yet now...you could only feel bad...not pitty but genuinely sad, there was nothing you could do for those old coworkers who were long dead, or for the children who you were pretty sure had shared the same fate as your coworkers did.

"Watching, waiting, hungry..." Hungry...that had always bothered you, it was such a huge design flaw, you had tried to tell them, how there needed to be some change so they wouldn't need to eat, you had even given them the absolute best reason, it would cost less to mantain, and yet they hadn't listened...

"They want nothing more than to crawl beneath your skin and eat away at you bit by litte bit," You really wish those higher up brainless sad excuses of human beings would still be alive so you could laugh at them...although they did get eaten, so that will have to do at least.

"And feel what is empty inside themselves" The little failures would be dissapointed with what they found...little to fill their empty husks.

"Listen to me, you need to get out of this place," Tempting...

"You need to live," It's not like you're interested in doing otherwise, to many loose ends to leave behind by selfishly dying.

"You and Poppy can fix this, end this madness, the torment, the-oh no," Those small critters had started inching closer to the mangled body of Dogday, they were so fucking ugly, such failures about to twist even more one of the few succesful ones, one you had spent so much work nd time on, he looked utterly helpless, pathetic and...terrified

"OH NO!" He was absolutely terrified, of course anyone would be if small creatures were about to eat their insides bit by bit, it is only natural to fear such  painfull death and yet...

"Leave me, please, just go, RUN!!" He was still trying to get you to leave, more worried about you than himself...

You really don't realize what you've done until after you've done it that the screams of the small critters fill the room as you shoot them with the bengal gun hand as you pull Dogday with all your strength much to his shock as he basically falls on top of you, causing you to almost fall over from the unexpected weight, yet you manage not to fall back as you regain your bearing, holding Dogday tightly, the plushfur of his body was all matted and smelled putried almost making you drop him and recoil.

But you didn't...

"Angel what are you doing?" His voice sounded absolutely shocked yet terrified at the same time.

"You shouldn't have done that, Catnap won't let this pass!" He was now panicking as you manuvered him so he would be on you back.

"Hold my shoulders, don't let go," You order and he does as told, holding unto your shoulders, almost reminding you of a plushie backpack, except the plushie was giant, missing half of it's body and absolutely dirty...

Oh well, you'd fix that later, now you needed to get out of this damned laberynth of a place before those disgusting small critters got to you.

[acapelladitty]

Jonathan Crane/Reader - Corn Fucking 🌽😈 (Kinktober #1)

Summary - It's a corn fucking fic lads. Someone gets fucked with an ear of corn. Not much more to say aside from the fact there's heavy bdsm themes. Bon ape tit!

As far as Crane’s little tests went, this one was proving to be somewhat unique.

All it had taken was an off-colour comment about the dinner you had prepared for you both – a simple stew with a few sides littered around the rickety table which you had scrounged up within his workspace – and he had ordered you to stand from your seat and approach him, a task you completed in an instant as your naturally submissive dynamic settled over your skin like a thick veil.

Crane was dining in full costume, his Scarecrow grab wrapped around his thin frame as he had been pulled from work to have something to eat, and he hadn’t seen the point in changing anything when he fully planned to return as soon as he were finished.

Now standing before him, you flinch in place as his cool hands jump straight to your thighs – willowy, scarred fingers disappearing up your skirt to wrap around the waistband of your underwear and pull the scant fabric free of your ass. Heat rises in your cheeks as you allow him to slip the thin cotton panties free of your body, allowing them to fall carelessly to the floor as you willingly step free, feeling utterly exposed as a delicious anxiety alights in your chest, awaiting his next move.

“Raise your skirt and hold it in place.”

Your fingers move of their own accord as the smooth tenor of his low voice washes over you, the digits plucking at the hem of your skirt as you raise it to your waist – a fresh blush staining your cheeks as you were forced to showcase your most intimate self. A traitorous dampness rapidly makes itself known between your slit as you clench your cunt around nothing while Crane gazes as your sex with a calculating expression, his milky eyes casually switching between you and the dinner table.

One hand still gripping the flesh of your outer right thigh, his other hand – the one which often housed his fear gauntlet – skimmed over the table, delicately trailing over the small variations of different foodstuffs before landing on its intended target.

An ear of corn, boiled to perfection.

To the side of the bowl sat an even smaller bowl, this one filled with seasoned butter which was intended to add a little bit of flavour, and he ignored it entirely as he brought the thick length of corn back towards your prone body.

Something wicked and shameful washed through your system as you sussed out his intent. He was going to fuck you with it and your fingers trembled against the fabric of your skirt as a full-bodied shudder skittered its way down your spine. He had fucked you with objects before, setting your strained body up for failure as you were forced to choose between impaling yourself on a rubber cock which stretched you to the point of tears or choking yourself with a thin noose, but this was different. There was no planning here. Just a showcase of his power and how willing you were to accept it.

“I think we should warm up that lovely skin before we test just how depraved you are, little mouse.”

A sharp yelp escapes your lips as he slides the length of corn against your cunt and the intense heat against your sensitive skin – the temperature of the kernels still hot despite sitting on the plate since the meal began – feels almost scalding against the delicate skin, causing your knees to knock in place even as every instinct in your body screamed at you to pull away.

Relief is quick to sweep through your tensed skin as he slid the corn away, only to then twist it and replace it a moment later – sparking a fresh cry from your lips as the heated assault resumed. Biting your lips, the tension in your thighs makes your legs tremble as you fight against the urge to step away and escape the torment.

Your eyes meet Crane’s once more and you can feel the sadistic amusement at play there as he holds the corn in place for a moment longer, daring you to complain or attempt to escape. Knuckles white against your skirt, you refuse to give in even as he tests it out a few more times, every attempt seeking out more sensitive skin as he pushes the length roughly between your slit and grinds it hard against your exposed cunt.

Your teeth gritting against the hot discomfort, only soft mewls can slip through as he ensures that every inch of your wettened cunt was ‘warmed up’ by his ministrations. The heat was only just bearable, despite being cruelly intense, and it enough that the constant movement ensured that you would not be burned while also allowing every millimetre of skin to enjoy the scalding warmth.

He adjusts the length slightly and you scream out a sharp yelp as the tip of the corn presses against your clit – the sensitive bud sending a sharp jolt of pain through your body as your knees snap together and you jerk away, unable to take it any longer.

“Please. It’s too hot.” Your words are panicked and dripping regret as disappointment that you pulled away trickles across your skin. “I can’t take it. Please, Sir.”

“You could take it and more.” Crane chastises roughly, his deadpan tone revealing nothing of the very visible arousal which is tenting his darkened slacks as his hand fully removes itself from your cunt. “And maybe one day you will so I can enjoy those panicked screams as you feel your skin burn from the inescapable heat. But for the moment, I’ll show mercy. You have 20 seconds to adjust the temperature and then it goes inside you, no matter what.”

“Thank- thank you, Sir.” You stutter out as you drop your skirt, pluck the corn from his extended fingers and move quickly to the nearby sink. Turning the tap, you test the stream for a moment before washing the corn in the cold water, ensuring that every inch was cleansed and cooled as much as possible for what you knew was coming next.

“Time.” Crane calls out firmly after his internal count ends. His gnarled fingers immediately extend out to summon you back to him and you scurry back over to his side as he pushes his chair even further free of the dinner table.

Crane pats his knee, the movement slow and mocking, as he gives you a simple, non-verbal command. It’s a command you know intimately and the immediate throb of your cunt as you realise he plans to put you over his lap is embarrassing in its earnestness. It was one of his favourite places to keep you; painting and bruising your skin to a mottled range of abuses with his hands or a ruler or whatever item he pleased as you screamed and apologised for your mistakes.

The fact that the spankings always ended with either his cock or his fingers buried deep within your aching cunt also never hurt.

You drop smoothly to take a familiar, humiliating position across his knee, careful to avoid the metallic mechanism of his knee brace as you raise your ass up high, your short skirt riding further up with every small shuffle of your frame.

His fingers push within your cunt without warning, the sudden intrusion taking your breath away as he rubs the pads of his fingers against your walls, testing how wet and prepared you were with an almost clinical fashion. Arousal, hot and shameful in its intensity, pulses within your groin and you can’t help but writhe against him as he completes his examination, feeling more like a piece of meat than a wistful lover. Your breath comes in short gasps and you can’t help but roll your hips against his fingers, encouraging him to move faster.

“Sit still.” Crane warns and the words are a shock, like freezing water dashed across your skin as you force your body still. A rumble of approval rolls through his thin frame at the instant submission and he taps two fingers against your exposed ass. “Good girl.”

In an instant, his fingers pull free, but he leaves you no time to mourn their loss as something much larger moves to press at your hole, the slightly tapered end of the corn breaching the first inch of your cunt without difficulty. Your breath is held deep within your chest, the solid feeling of his knees beneath your stomach giving you something to ground yourself to as your fingers grip at the legs of the wooden chair Crane is still lounging on.

“You’re so wet already.” Crane growls. “Have you no shame? Are you really just a whore? A little mouse who is soaked at the prospect of being fucked by something as disgusting as an ear of corn.”

Already feeling thoroughly degraded and slave to the hot arousal which is tight across your groin, you give him a pathetic nod and follow the desperate move a hasty agreement as a soft yes falls from your lips. It’s enough to satisfy him and his hand is rough against your lower back as his other hand begins to slowly force the ear of corn against your fluttering hole.

The stretch draws a low discomforting keen from your lips as you spread your legs further and try to relax around the girth of the intrusion. It’s thicker than Crane, that was for sure, and you can’t help but imagine how your poor cunt will look once he’s finished, all fucked out and raw, reddened by his little off-the-cuff punishment.

With a grunt, the widest part of the corn pops within your cunt and you muffle the cry which threatens your lips by burying your mouth against your arm. Your flesh burning around the intruder, every small kernel adds a layer of sensation that allows a very pleasant arousal to rise aside the warmth – the feeling growing more intense as Crane slowly begins to pump the corn within you, building up a slow pace.

Your knees are spread as wide as the position would allow and you squirm against his steadying hand as stunted moans and whimpers break free of your lips. The feeling of his cock, hard and heavy against your stomach, makes your mouth water as you long for the familiar taste of him in your mouth.

Crane twists the corn unexpectedly and the movement pulls at your walls as every little ridge rubs itself against your most sensitive skin, a bolt of arousal making you jerk in place and grab on to his ankle.

“Do you think you could come like this?” Crane asks, flexing his leg beneath your grip as he picks up the pace on his movements – every thrust now pushing the corn a few millimetres deeper into your stretched cunt as he forced you towards a humiliating orgasm. “A whore so pathetic that even an object like this can get her off"

Perhaps after our meal I should organise a more involved punishment to correct this abnormal behaviour.”

“Yes, sir.” You agree, shame at the rapidly growing band of tension which spilled heat across your skin making you compliant as your cunt clamped around the corn.

“Ask me to make you come like this.”

His demand was met with a sharp increase in his pace, the ridged length within your cunt now moving rapidly as it pulled at and stimulated your fluttering walls with every messy pump.

“Please fuck me.” You beg, fingers scrambling against his legs. “Fuck me with the corn like the -pathetic whore-whore I am. Make me come with it.”

Crane complies and all it takes is one particularly cruel thrust which pushes the thick length so deep within your cunt that it knocks against your cervix, the added discomfort enough to push you over the edge as you come. Toes curling within your shoes, the band of arousal snaps and your cunt spasms around the corn – a shrill, stuttering cry making you shake in place as his thumb slips around to brush sadistic circles around your engorged clit. The added stimulation drawing out your release to the point of overstimulation as your bucking frame is held in place by his firm hand pushing down against your lower back.

Eventually, your movements still as the waves of pleasure recent and your aching cunt feels disgustingly wet and hollowed out as Crane pulls the thick length of corn free with a none-too-gentle yank. It’s a move that draws a fresh grunt from you as the wicked little kernels give you one last kiss of pleasure before a sense of emptiness settles in the abandoned space.

Your earlier thoughts return as you feel the cool air brush against your hole, the slight gape there cause a fresh flush of shame to roll across your heated skin. Reddened and fucked-out.

Just as he liked.

Crane’s hand released your back and you stand on trembling legs, not quite trusting the ground to remain solid below you as you allow your skirt to fall back down. Your release trickles free of your cunt, a wet and sticky mess that feels uncomfortable against your thighs as you await his next instruction.

One of Crane’s hands is pressed against the tented bulge of his cock, teasing his own length as he observes you with a heated gaze. The fingers of his other hand move to drop the slickened ear of corn to the closest plate, the ceramic clinking quietly against the wooden table.

“Now, return to your seat and finish your meal. Our lesson will continue once you are finished.”

This fic is my first offering for this years Kinktober. The tag will be #Kinktober23 for all of the fics if you want to keep up 💖😈

[isabella-kr]

Just read your reassurance fic and fuckin loved it. Absolutely feral for price rn. Not sure if you're still open for requests, but i am a strong believer that price gives the best hugs, holds you to his chest for comfort, problemsolving kinda hugs, but maybe something happened and now its oc/reader's time to return the favour.

This is the first time I've ever made a request so hope I did it right lol. basically I'm starving for fluff. maybe a bit of hurt/comfort.

Thank you so much for requesting!! I'm so glad you liked it!! I agree, he definitely gives incredible hugs and I would kill to experience them at least once. I hope you don't mind, but I made this an F!reader because you didn't specify and it's what I find easiest; however, if you'd like me to change this to gender neutral, let me know and I will edit this :))

Out of Your Control

Do not repost

Synopsis: After a mission gone awry, Price can't help but blame himself for everything that had gone wrong. Hugs won't solve the problem, but they will definitely help ease his nerves.

Pairing: John Price x Female!Reader (Hints of an established relationship)

Genre: Angst & Fluff / Hurt & Comfort

Warnings: Swearing, self-blame, Price cries, reader cries, use of ‘sweetheart’ and ‘love’ 

Word Count: 2k

General Masterlist COD:MWII Masterlist

GIF not mine

The mission was a disaster.

Everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong. It was as though the enemy was expecting them, and decided to make his defence ten times stronger, quicker, and more ruthless. It was clear that the mission was doomed for failure from the start, but they prevailed nonetheless; eager to complete their task.

The place was swarming with soldiers who were armed with weapons from head to toe. So were they, but no matter how armed their Squad seemed to be, the enemy soldiers had twice as many guns, and twice as many blades. They were like flies on a hot summer’s day, doubling at speeds that didn’t seem humanly possible, and before long, they were surrounded from every corner.  

Their hushed voices rang out through the comms as they considered their next course of action. Yet as Price was about to tell them to retreat - to evacuate because there was no way they would come out if this mission alive – it was already too late. Loud sirens rang out in their ears, and the rapid sounds of stomping boots made the hairs at the back of all their necks stand up. It went south too quickly for them to even attempt to deescalate the situation.  

Bullets rained down like hail, and it didn’t take a genius to know they would not be getting out of this scot-free, and none of them did. Some of their injuries were worse than others, but they all looked equally beat up, as though they were on the brink of death.  

It was barely an hour later that they were sat in the medical bay, with nurses and doctors running around them like headless chickens. Their frantic movements and hushed whispers made her head feel like a balloon ready to be popped, and she could only assume the others felt the same from the way their faces scrunched up with discomfort.  

Price was nowhere to be seen, having ran out the moment the nurses told him he was free to go. The Captain’s injuries weren’t as severe as the others, and that only seemed to worsen the guilt he was already feeling.  

It was Soap who looked the worst out of all of them, like Death himself was about to knock on his door and take him away. Yet somehow, with half of his face turned purple, and his left eye swollen shut, he still managed to send her a sweet smile the moment their eyes locked together.  

She sent him a sympathetic glance in return, hissing and flinching when a bullet was suddenly extracted from the flesh of her thigh. She almost glared at the doctor who pulled the metal out of her, but stopped herself when an anti-septic was wiped over the open wound, and another wave of pain made an anguished groan leave her throat. She could only sigh and wait for this to be over; to finally leave and get some time for herself.  

“Take this,” a nurse spoke with a sweet smile, giving her three small pills and a cup of water. Once she downed the medicine and emptied the small, plastic cup, the nurse nodded, “Good. Now, you get some rest, alright? You need it.”  

“Thank you,” she nodded, plopping down from her bed to leave the stuffy room. She winced with every limped step she took, but decided she would rather suffer than spend the night in the medical room because of a non-fatal injury.  

She wasted no time before making her way over to her room, welcoming the familiar smell with a smile on her face. The material that was soaked with her sweat and blood was pulled off her tired body, and soon replaced with something more comfortable. The new clothes were soft to the touch and didn’t stick to her bruised skin, making her sigh out in relief. She decided to wear something that would cover her up entirely, not out of modesty, but to hide the injuries from the captain’s guilt-filled eyes.  

After leaving her room and making another stop to brew two cups of tea, she began making her way down a long corridor. It didn’t take her too long to arrive at Price’s office, though the wound in her thigh definitely slowed her down somewhat. His door seemed to be locked shut, for when she pressed her elbow against the handle, it didn’t budge.  

With a small sigh, she knocked on the door with the rip of her boot, and waited for the door to be opened. Yet no sound came from inside the room; no gruff voice telling her to piss off; no sound of papers rustling, and no heavy footsteps making their way across the room.  

She exhaled sharply, eyes closing as she kicked the door harder than before. Some of the tea trickled down from the mugs, the steaming hot liquid burning the skin of her finger. She ignored the burning sensation, instead focusing on the man who she knew was on the opposite side of the door.  

“Sir, I need to speak with you,” she spoke out loud, hoping the sound of urgency in her voice would get him to open up. But alas, the silence continued. “Captain-” she looked around her, making sure there was no-one there to hear her next words, “John… please let me in.”  

That seemed to get him moving, as only a few seconds passed before the door was pulled open. She walked in without waiting for permission, and placed the two hot mugs on his desk. Her eyes were quick to notice the scattered papers on his desk, his handwriting turning frantic on some of them.  

Her eyes soon settled on the bearded man who walked around the desk and sat down in his chair. He had a blank look in his eyes, and she slowly sat down on the chair on the other side of the desk. She moved one of the mugs closer towards him, but he made no attempt to reach for it. His eyes didn’t even glance down to look at it.  

“John,” she spoke slowly. Softly.

He didn’t look at her, and she swore his eyes were avoiding eye contact at all costs. There was a dark bruise forming on the apple of his left cheek, the skin turning a dark purple, mixed with a sickly yellow. A deep gash also decorated his clavicle, the skin red a raw, yet the wound was not deep enough to require stitches.  

She could feel her heart break into a million pieces at the sight of his hopeless state. “John,” she whispered once again, “…sweetheart.”  

This time, his eyes moved to look into hers. They were glazed over, and she could tell he was close to cracking, the guilt eating him up alive.  

“This wasn’t your fault, John,” she told him with a shake of her head.

He let out a humourless laugh. The type of laugh that told her just how deep in despair he was. “Yeah, it was. I should’ve known better.”  

“John, no.” She disagreed, “You couldn’t have predicted this.”  

“No, but I should’ve been ready for it,” he argued, “I should’ve been prepared for things to go wrong.”  

“And you were,” she spoke softly, “But we were all taken by surprise. None of us could have known this was going to happen. No matter how prepared we could have been. No matter what you think you could’ve done, we were simply too outnumbered.”  

With a tilt of his head, he exhaled sharply, “This was supposed to be an easy mission. In and out.”  

She nodded in understanding, “And it would’ve been if the information you were given was correct,” she pointed out. “This one was out of your hands, John.”

He shook his head in disagreement, hie eyes trained on the ceiling as if it was the most interesting thing in the room. With a small wince, she pushed herself off the chair and walked over towards him. Her fingers curled around his jaw and she moved him so that his eyes were locked with hers.  

“John, what matters is that we’re all alive.” She told him, “You’re fine. The boys are fine. I’m fine. We’re all okay.”  

With a blank stare, his hand moved to her thigh and applied some pressure in the exact spot where the bullet had penetrated her skin. He didn’t do it hard, in fact, he barely touched the area. Yet despite all that, she felt like a thousand needles were stabbed into her sore skin at once.  

She choked at the pain that travelled through her body, and her hand instinctively pulled his away. He stared at her with a look that told her he did not believe a word she just told him. How could he when the soft, and otherwise welcome gesture caused her so much pain.  

“You don’t sound fine to me, love.”  

“John.” She scolded, “This isn’t something that’s never happened to me before. I’ve lost count of how many times I got shot, and I’m sure you have too.”  

He didn’t respond to the accusation, his eyes only closing in shame. With a small, yet deep sigh, she managed to pull him towards her. The non-bruised side of his face was pressed against her chest, and her arms wrapped securely around him. The palm of her left hand cradled the back of his head, whilst the other moved to rub comforting circles on his shoulders.  

“I know you won’t believe me,” she whispered, “But none of us blame you. Not Ghost, not Soap, not Gaz, and most definitely not me”  

Upon hearing her words, he wrapped his arms around her torso and pulled her even closer to him than she was before. A small whimper left his lips, and he moved his face so that his nose was pressing against her. She moved down, carefully not to startle him, and kissed the crown of his head. She kept her face there, only tightening her hold around him when his body began to shake; the dam which he had built breaking into pieces as he allowed his emotions to flow freely.  

His tears soaked through her shirt, and the situation made her own eyes well with tears. She didn’t care when they began to roll down her cheeks, or when his fingers clenched around the material of her shirt and pulled on it. She only cared that he finally let himself feel, without shoving his emotions away until they became unbearable.  

“We would never blame you for this. Sometimes things are out of our control, okay?” She hummed against him, “There’s no point in beating ourselves up over it. It’s in the past. We can’t change it, so let it go. Please, just let it go.”  

A sob wrecked through his body, and his fingers let go of her shirt to dig into her skin. He managed to nod against her, and she felt as though a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She knew the guilt had not fully left him, and that they still had a long way to go, but this was progress. She was just glad he was willing to try and move past it, and no matter how long it would take him, she would remain by his side the entire time.  

She would wrap her arms around him and hold him close as he let the tears flow freely, just as he had done for her so many times before. She would hold him for as long as he needed her to, even if her arms began to ache, she would keep her arms wrapped securely around him.  

“Just please…” she sniffled, “Don’t beat yourself up over this. We’re all going to be fine. Nothing a little rest and some medicine can’t fix.”  

“And some stitches.”

“Yeah,” she let out a small laugh as her lips pressed against his hair once more, “And some stitches.”  

[piscispd]

—                HEY NOW, WE'LL BE OKAY.      ->    hhu.

“I don't care, I love you anyhow. It is too late to turn you out of my heart. Part of you lives there.” — a self portrait in letters × anne sexton.

Their parents don't approve your relationship. After a night where things don’t go as planned, the boys are left mending your broken heart.

wc: 1,6k overall. a/n: i focused more on their reaction after the fight, so this is them easing reader's insecurities! if you wanted something else lmk! im editing this later~ warnings/tags: gn reader, fluff, hurt/comfort. request!

You both barely step foot inside your place before he opens his mouth, like he was waiting impatiently for some privacy to fix talk.

“You’re overthinking, love.” Seungcheol scolds, hands on his hips as he stares at you with a disapproving look, akin to his father’s.

You shiver at the thought, reminiscing tonight’s failure as you shake your head. “No, I’m not.”

“Are so,” he pouts, linking his arms around your waist. “And you need to stop doing it, whatever your pretty head is thinking about right now, stop it.”

You click your tongue, rolling your eyes. “There’s nothing else to think about after tonight, Cheol, is there.”

It’s a bitter remark, not a question. You sound defeated and utterly sad, and his heart breaks a little seeing you in this shape, but Seungcheol is having none of it. He grabs you by the shoulders, his gaze burning you. “Don't you dare say that again. Don’t you tell me we don't belong together, like they said, just because they said it. I love you, and if you don't love me back, you can look at me in the eyes and say it.”

Silence. Cheol’s looking at you dead in the eye, intensely, yet so lovingly and gently because he can’t scold you for real, not really, and that’s so undoubtedly him that it makes your head all dizzy. “Jeez,” you chuckle, shaking your head with a heart much lighter.

“Can't say it, can you?”

“I love you,” you smile, gently. “I won't lie to you, Cheol.”

“But why do you look like you wanna cry,” he pouts, “am I making you sad?”

“No, I was sad, but– you make me feel like we could make this work. Like you’re reliable and I should count on you.”

“So you weren’t counting on me before?”

“Cheol.”

There's a childish mirth in his eyes as he smiles reassuringly, slowly linking his hands around you. “You should do that. You should've been doing that, because that's what I am.”

His hands are cold on your waist, so you caress them with your own, even if yours are a bit colder. He hugs you completely, aligning your body to his until there isn't a hair of yours untouched, unprotected. Kissing your forehead, he sways you both side to side. “I’m your boyfriend,” he chides lightly, his tone more serious now. “And the only thing that’s going to change that is a ring on your finger, nothing and no one else will, understand?”

His heart skips a beat when he sees you smile, all bright and happy and so pretty he wants to eat you. He wants to watch you forever. As his strong arms squeeze your middle, his breathing soft against your neck, you sigh longingly at the feeling. “Yeah, I got it.”

“You know, I had a dream about you last night.” Vernon says suddenly, breaking the silence.

It's the first time he's talked to you ever since you came back from that interesting meeting with his parents, an hour ago.

He’s sitting right next to you on your bed, but you don’t look at him. You’re avoiding it, really, because the second you do you’re going to beg him to stay and forget all about tonight, you’re gonna beg and plead that you’ll be able to work it all out together. That you needed him.

You bite your lip at the thought. You can’t do that– not after what transpired a few hours earlier with his family. You can’t be so selfish, can you?

So you keep looking at your phone, ignoring his sigh– Vernon is a stubborn dude, though, so he faces straightforward and keeps his train of thought.

“Listen, we were in a house with this big yard– big, babe. Huge. We could bring all my members and their families and there'll still be space, I think,” he rambles on, making you lean towards him uncounsciously, attentive to his next words. “It was ours. I mean, it felt like it was. You would've liked it.”

“What's your point,” you mumble grumpily.

“My family was there with us,” he ignores your interruption, smiling reminiscent. “My dad was laughing at something on the tv and my mom was cutting us some fruit. She was trying to get your mbti right, you know that personality test I’ve been telling you about? Seriously, I don't know what devil type you got, but she was arguing with you over it and I was telling her that on the flip side, your zodiac sign matches perfectly with mine– because there's no one better for me than you.”

Insane. He’s very questionable on most days, but right now he sounds a little insane as you ask him, dumbfoundedly, “Babe, what the hell are you on about?”

He shrugs. “Just trying to prove my point.”

You want to cry. You can’t believe he started talking about anything just to make you feel better about tonight, so you allow yourself to lean fully against his side and let your tears fall.

Vernon lets you cry on him, leaning back towards you. He hugs you, slowly, his hands tenderly taking a hold of you, and that leads to new, fresh tears— but you can't bring yourself to raise your arms and hold him back.

(Hold him back. Maybe that's what you were doing without knowing, maybe there is someone out there who's better suited for him and his family's expectations, maybe, maybe, maybe.)

“Hey.”

You look up at him, eyelashes damp and a frown on your face as if to ask what, making him grin and brush your tears away with his thumb.

“You heard what I said, right? There's no one better for me than you. That won't change, I promise.”

In, out. The sound of his breathing was calming, the growing darkness of the late night a protective veil around the both of you, little night birds singing far away. He grins at you, gently but widely like he has all the answers you need, like just staying by his side is the answer.

“We can work this out,” he continues soflty. “What we can't do is have you all sad thinking you're anything but it for me, alright? C'mon, they'll get round.”

You scoff, still feeling uneasy. “You don’t know that.”

“I do. I do know that, because I know them and I know you,” he states firmly. “And I’ll tell you a secret, they'll eventually come around, and I will make that dream come true. Since we’re being cheesy, you wanna hear another secret? I love you.”

“You're really doing the most,” you chuckle despite yourself, letting him cuddle you against his chest and kiss your head. Vernon was right, and you wanted to believe him, so you tell him back, “Okay. I love you too.”

His phone rings with a text from his sister a few hours later, once he’s already fast asleep in your arms. It reads, “— you got this, bro!! ♡”

Mingyu is talking the minute he gets out of the house, walking side by side with you.

“It's okay,” he smiles, trying to cheer you up. “I didn't like you at first either.”

You smack him in the arm, chuckling nervously at him. He grins and links your arms back together, smiling fondly at you. “What? Now I can't live without you. It's a good omen, if you ask me.”

You’re not sure what to make of tonight. Should you answer to his easy going response with the same energy? Should you tell him about his wrong use of the word omen?

“What if it never happens? If they never... like me?” would you leave me then?, you’re too afraid of his answer to blatantly ask, but Mingyu knows how to read between the lines. At least around you.

“That’s a little dramatic, babe, am I rubbing off on you too much?” he teases, like it's no big deal for him, and you don’t know how to feel about that. “You'll grow on them.”

“Like fungus?”

“Like fungus. Just like you did with me.”

You try to smile again, but it's forced. You don't feel good, so you sigh and lean against his arm.

Mingyu is trying his best here. He wants you to know that even if his own President Moon were to ask him today to leave your side he would tell him no.

Maybe. Maybe he'll change names and run away with you, or plan a misterious hit on his nation’s president. Either way, he's not leaving you behind, that's his point. Is it so hard to believe?

He thought that joking was a clear way to tell you hey, I love you, no matter what people say– even if it makes me a bit sad, I'm staying with you.

But you look sad, and it's making Mingyu sweat a little, so he tries a new way to approach it.

“Everything is difficult at first,” he says under his breath. “We just need to keep going at it until they get it, okay? Together.”

You shake your head slightly, such a small, barely perceptible movement that it could be mistaken for a twitch. But Mingyu knows you better than anyone else on the planet, he thinks, and his heart squeezes painfully once he realizes that was a dejected head shake.

“Babe,” he stops walking, his arms encasing you tentatively, his face ghosting on your hair and the familiar scent of your shampoo. “No need to dwell on it, really. I want to make it easier for them, but if they can’t see how great you are, it’s their loss. It’s not like I’ll stop bringing you around or anything. I’m selfish like that, you know. You’re kinda stuck with me.”

You chuckle, squeezing his hand admittedly more relaxed, his truthful words licking your wounded heart. “What a terrible destiny.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “Shockingly, I've heard of people having it worse.”

You laugh loudly at his pout, cuddling him and stealing all his warmth. “I love you too. Thank you.”

He doesn't let go of your hand the entire walk back home.

Wonwoo was excited for tonight, and in consequence, so were you. He didn't expect their rude behavior at all, his face growing drier and more defensive as the hours ticked by. Finally, after hearing him say “We’ll get going,” in the coldest voice you’ve ever heard from him, you pick up your stuff with tense shoulders and leave.

Once you reach that godforsaken doorstep, Wonwoo tells you to wait in the car with a parting kiss on your forehead.

“But–”

“No buts,” he says sternly. “I have things to say to them, it won’t take too long. Put some of your music on, alright?”

“Okay,” you agree bregudgely, frowning. “You’ll come back, right?”

Wonwoo's stare softens at of your small voice, grabbing your hands to kiss them, lingering for a moment too long before letting you go. “Don’t worry too much, it's not like they'll do anything to me.”

He comes back to the car exactly ten minutes later, his raven hair a mess on his forehead and he grips the steering wheel so strongly his knuckles turn white, jaw clenched.

It’s only when you arrive home that he confronts you. Your knees are moving the car, shaking up and down, and he’s back to being so quiet and serious you’re half expecting him to tell you to get out and never come back.

Once you finally open your mouth to break the tense silence, he suddenly calls your name. “I'm sorry.”

You gape at him, words stuck in your throat when you notice the intense look on his face. “It's okay,” you gulp. “I. I understand if you want to leave– maybe we should just... accept the inevitable.”

You’re looking down at your hands, missing the raw panic in Wonwoo’s face. “What?”

“I said, maybe we should consider this, I mean, us. Our relationship–”

Wonwoo's stomach goes cold. “No, no. No one's leaving. I’m not leaving you,” he interrupts you in a frenzy, cupping your face and looking so vulnerable you feel the urge to cry.

“Listen, I'm sorry they were out of line. But what they think doesn't change what I feel for you. You were great, you are great, the greatest, and I love you. Don’t jump into conclusions– don't worry about them too much.”

You shake your head between his hands, still hang up on it. “I don’t want you to fight with them for this.”

“We didn't fight.”

You look at him incredulously. Wonwoo raises his chin, childishly stubborn. “We didn't fight, we just... talked. About manners, politely, like family should talk. And I would do it even if it were anyone else, because if you’re hurting, I’m hurting, alright? I can’t just leave it alone, (YN).”

It’s a hot Friday night in Seoul, fancy cars are passing through yours in a blink, unaware of your heart beating painfully against your ribs, thump thump thumping while Wonwoo takes your hand and kisses the palm of it, his lips pressing on the softness of your skin. “Am I being too much?”

“No,” you chuckle wetly, grabbing and squeezing his hand in return. “No, you’re good. Thank you, baby. I love you.”

“Me too,” you feel him squeeze your hands gently before he leans over to kiss you, lingering on your lips. You smile against him when you hear car horns outside, and he begrudgingly pulls away. “Let’s go inside. It's been a long night.”