#he just kept screaming it with more and more conviction

[tap-dancing-fool]

Anyone else remember in wano when Eustass Kidd kept calling Killer his partner. Not his first mate. I don’t remember him ever calling Killer his first mate. He called the rest of his crew…the rest of his crew. His “crew”. But Killer is his partner. Faggotry.

[blackswallowtailbutterfly]

My nana at 9 years of age was dragged kicking and screaming to school. Her math teacher had been molesting her. She told her parents. They did nothing. Best part? Her father was the principal. So obviously that teacher learned he could get away with anything and started molesting the other girls, who then blamed my nana because...I dunno, little kid logic I guess. It was unlikely their parents were going to be any more helpful than my nana's and he knew it.

My great aunt at the age of 13 was forcibly kissed by a teacher in full view of several witnesses who then gave her shit for seducing an honourable man.

My mom at 12 years of age left her physically abusive father to live with her mother and stepfather, only for her stepfather to molest her. Her mother to this day refuses to believe it.

My best friend had a longterm close male friend who sexually assaulted her in her sleep. Their entire friend group as well as the youth counselor encouraged her to forgive him because it was obviously a misunderstanding and she'd been giving off mixed signals and he'd had a huge crush on her and he wasn't intending to hurt her! So she did forgive him, publicly. And he did it again. And again. And again. And then it was her fault because she kept hanging out with him. If she really didn't want him doing it, why didn't she just abandon her entire friend group? He also got emboldened and went on to sexually assault other girls, so eventually they all started talking and went to the school against him. The youth counselor admonished my friend for going forward against him.

My other best friend decided to be "open-minded" and dated a trans-identified male. He also sexually assaulted her multiple times in her sleep but he framed her as the abuser at their youth support group for not adequately validating his identity.

My stepfather molested me from the ages of 7 to 12 and when I reported him he was dating a new woman at the time. She didn't believe it. They're still together. I can only imagine the number of girls he's been given access to over the years (he didn't go to jail, or get convicted of sexual assault).

I was also sexually assaulted in my sleep at my friend's party once. That guy's friend said I "probably wanted it".

Went to group therapy. All the women there had very different stories, but one theme that kept cropping up: they weren't believed or they were blamed.

I read books about therapy sessions with other victims. And that theme kept up. Not believed or else blamed. One woman told her story, learning to gloss it over before being dismissed out of hand, for decades before a professional finally asked her to elaborate and put her in touch with a sexual assault crisis centre. Another thing that came up in those books: knowing how hard it was for victims to come forward, and all the discouragement from people in their lives, many women must take it to the grave.

But hey, it's fine. Men have it worse. I mean we all watched a rich abusive man successfully publicly humiliate his victim while everyone said he was the victim and she was the abuser. And actually it's super common for abusive men to claim to be the victim, and police and family believe it! And it can take multiple women to come forward against one man for anything to be done, and often even that's not enough. But never mind that, men have it worse. We know this because they so--no, no, don't pay attention to hospital records or homicides or child marriages, or--Men. Say. They. Have it worse! So they do. Everything a man says is truth. That's why you must believe whatever a man says and accept every observation he makes as objective. No, there's no irony here, no historical precedent, no global trend.

[zo3mess]

Bitter-sweet

Summary: Officers from other towns were reassigned to help the understaffed police force in Evergreen after the butterfly massacre. The good old game of cat and mouse begins with Vigilante continuing his shenanigans and one police officer determined to catch him. Except it is not entirely clear who is chasing whom.

Warnings: 18+, smut, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t be stupid and use protection guys), blood play, gun play (but not really) enemies to enemies with benefits type of relationship, violence, dead bodies, alcohol consumption, foul language. Female reader and no use of Y/N.

Word count: 5.4k (my hand slipped, I’m sorry) 

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Extra songs for this fic

Masterlist of my works

Note: I realized I missed writing so much since I don’t write essays in school anymore and I got quite a positive reaction on my last work Laundry girl (I love you guys fr). This time I tried something different? I feel like this is messier than the last one, lousy idea, but you know how it is. Also I have never written smut before, so get ready for some weird shit. English is not my first language, I apologize for mistakes, especially with tenses. Criticism is very much welcomed! Thank you for every like, reblog and comment, it makes me all giddy whenever I get a notification <3

The Project Butterfly was a case that shocked everyone. Aliens invading Earth? Shady business with convicts led by Waller? Something that shocked you personally was the sudden disappearance of whole police precinct in Evergreen. Whole town ended up with no cops and needed help. Which was a great opportunity for you to start up.

Your dream? Gotham. City swarmed with villains. You needed to prove you’re tough enough for catching real supervillains. Where better to start than Evergreen? You agreed to relocate there to help, however your real target was Vigilante.

Some people said that what he was doing was good, catching criminals and ending their lives before they could do it again. But no one deserves to be above law and deciding fate of souls that can still reach redemption. Even if he helped saved the world from alien invasion.

So many times you saw him creeping through the streets late at night, but never managing to get close enough. After a few encounters, he realized you were specifically after him. A fan who kept a close eye on his work.

And since then, he started taunting you. Leaving a big V with the blood of his victims for you, quite few times even turning the signature letter into a heart. And they say romance is dead.

One night when you were stumbling home back from a bar, you heard weird sounds coming from an alleyway next to an abandoned store. Nothing out of the ordinary you would think, but it sounded like someone was in pain. You would be a bad cop to not help someone in need, no matter if it was past your working hours.

With caution you walked over there, lamp lights did a shitty job illuminating the streets, but you were able to recognize a body laying on the ground. Blood was seeping from under the man who was killed by a clear headshot, judging by the injuries you were able to see.

Quiet shuffling and groaning was audible from a distance. The realization that something is very wrong came far too late. Before you could even recognize what was happening a stranger pulled you around the corner and your yelp was muffled by a gloved hand.

“Shhhh shhh. It’s just me.” Vigilante. As if that made it any better. “If I remove my hand, will you scream?”

Decisions, decisions. You were more likely to punch him in the face rather than scream, but if he just killed the guy, it wasn’t smart to start a fight with someone riding on adrenaline and someone who is far more ready to fight. You would not cause much damage in high heels, short dress and still tipsy from the bar.

Eventually you shook your head, and he removed his hand from your face. Uncomfortable silence filled the air. Should you even ask what happened?

You searched for his eyes behind the red visor, until you noticed he was staring down. Was he…

“Are you staring at my tits?’’

“Your heart is beating really fast.” A simple observation that mesmerized him. He also wasn’t completely calm, quite the opposite. Since you disrupted his hunt so abruptly. Before you came he had been planning on drawing a nice big V on the floor for you, a greeting he sent you every time he left a corpse behind him.

A gloved hand made its way to your cleavage, pressing his hand against your skin to feel it rise and fall with every shallow breath you took. Your wide eyes followed his bold move, you felt the warmth of his body and it was making you feel insane.

All this time in Evergreen you focused on getting near to Vigilante, to catch him and serve some justice for reckless behavior, for playing God. And now he was closer than ever, even daring to touch you without a doubt in his head, it made your brain circuit.

You noticed he started to breathe faster too, his chest piece was rising with every deep inhale, and even in the low light of the street lamp you saw a dark stain on his mask. It did not take long before he rolled up the bottom half of his mask in exhaustion. No wonder he had trouble breathing when blood was flowing from his nose onto his lips that did not look exactly intact too.  Must have been a heavy fight.

“Not so fast on your feet now, huh?”  You had to mock him for it of course. All this time he was counting on his swiftness, it finally caught up to him.

“Shut up.” Vigilante tried to wipe the blood off his face with his wrist, groaning as he did so. Simultaneously you were taking a mental note that he was in fact comfortable with showing you the bottom half of his face. What was in your head an investigation of a target, he saw as blunt staring.

For a moment you two kept ogling each other. You took interest in the little human part he showed you, bloody puffy lips, clean-shaven jaw and few moles on his cheeks all felt surreal after all this time you saw him as a simple masked head with a red visor. Vigilante on the other had studied your eyes, how bright they suddenly looked, how they gazed at him with curiosity and most importantly how they kept flicking to his lips. He was no genius but a voice inside his head told him there was a tad more to this.

Something about stopping the alien invasion made him bolder, more confident, most of the time he felt like king of the world. Of course, people that knew him as Adrian Chase, a dorky weirdo, had no idea he basically saved the world. But you knew and he loved it.

You saw him as a villain, or at least desperately wanted him to be, and Adrian saw himself as hero of Evergreen. Heroes always get the girl, right? That’s how it should go.

He suddenly pressed his lips against yours, releasing a low painful groan when your noses got smushed. Hands dropped to your waist to pull you closer and yours found their way to his chest. Finally there was an opportunity to touch the expensive suit.

Vigilante pulled away before you could kiss him back. Maybe the alcohol made you much more reckless than you thought. “You taste bitter.” He commented and licked his lips. Was it that surprising? Considering you rocked a perfect sour face every time anyone even mentioned his name.

“I’ve been drinking gin and tonic at the bar.” Immediately as you explained your bitter lips and his bloody ones got connected once again in a far hungrier kiss. Regrets of tomorrow will be ringing in your ears for days. Will you be able to work with peace of mind when you’re making out in a dark alleyway with your nemesis?

His tongue pried its way into your mouth and brought the savory taste of blood with it. Who would have thought this psycho would be a good kisser. Conscience started flipping with guilt when you realized you enjoyed this more than running after him.

Your inner voice urged you to bite his lip, to worsen his wound, make it bleed again. You wanted to get back at him for pulling you into this situation and maybe, just maybe, you enjoyed the taste of copper in your mouth.

Your tongue swiped over his lower lip, searching and then probing into his split lip. The action made him tighten the grip he had on your waist, bunching up your coat. And when you bit harshly on his lip, tugging away and releasing it with a snap, he whimpered out the most sinful noise you have heard. It got stuck in your head, what would you give to hear it one more time. He pulled away in surprise and you got a chance to see your work, lip swelling and beautiful red appeared once again and his tongue licked the new blood that trickled down.

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards before he quickly latched his mouth just under your jaw. You felt the sticky remains of blood he left with every kiss on your throat. It felt good, too good, but he you couldn’t grant him the satisfaction of you bearing throat to him. He did not deserve to feel like a predator, like he could simply latch his teeth into your weak spot.

“You realize that I have to do something about the dead guy, no matter how much you kiss me.” You manage to find the strength to keep your voice steady in between heavy breaths.

“Or you can just leave him here, he got what he deserved,” You immediately missed his warm lips on your neck. “You could get what you deserve too, if only you weren’t so stubborn. I could take good care of you” Vigilante murmured and left his position on your neck. With a little concentration, you were able to recognize two wide eyes staring at you through a red visor, twitching between your lips to your neck, clearly admiring the claim he landed on you. Blood and spit glistening all over your throat, oh could you get any sexier in his eyes?

“I should be putting handcuffs on you and taking you out of here.” You spat back and straightened your back with hopes of appearing taller, confident.

“Only if they are the pink fluffy ones you keep in your top drawer.” Smug smile played on his face as he presented his wrists up to you with a dramatic sigh. Your pink handcuffs? Wouldn't it be too on the nose for a police officer to have kinky handcuffs? He got it wrong anyway, you do not keep them in your top drawer, they’re in the third one. A stupid birthday gift can always turn out to be useful in the right situation.

“How do you know about those?” Blood in your veins grew colder in an instant. Then it hit you, this freak does more than laugh in your face every time you arrive at the crime scene too late, taunting you for every criminal he managed to catch before you.

“Are you stalking me?” Your voice cracked a little, it had been a long night and this just gave it a crown. Eyes glinting with surprise? Anger? Excitement? This is wrong, right? So why did your heart skip a beat at the thought of Vigilante watching you through your window?

“No?” More of a question rather than an answer. Fucking liar. “I happened to be walking around your house when you had your curtains open.” The way he said it was so slurred, he realized his mistake. Gloved hands were twitching along his sides, biting his lip in frustration of fucking up, wincing once the pain of split lip reminded him of his condition.

“Fucking unbelievable!” You pushed him away and with wobbly legs, you slithered past him. “I’m reporting this dead body to the precinct. Pack your shit and go.” You absentmindedly pointed to the dead guy bleeding on the pavement.

Meanwhile Vigilante was still standing there with eyes following your every movement as you walked over to his victim, listening to clacks of high heels. Part of him could not believe you would let him go just like that, especially after you learned of his occasional late-night visits, the other part wanted to run and save his ass, just to play this game a little bit longer.

Before he decided to listen to your order and leave, he took a last quick look at you as you tried to scrub off the dried blood he left on you while searching for your superior’s number on your phone.

 Oh, the fire you two just started will keep him awake the rest of the night, he was sure of it. Whether it was cursing the world for throwing obstacles in his life with a bottle of whiskey or succumbing to his perverse mind in the shower.

After your strange run-up with Vigilante in the alleyway everything started to tangle up more than it used to. Starting with a patchy explanation of why you suddenly found a dead guy in valley without blowing out the truth that you made out with the killer a few minutes after he shot the poor guy.

Sharp mind turned into a dull organ sitting in your head, thinking about Vigilante in the opposite way you should. If you were still in middle school, you would be probably drawing stick figures of him and you with hearts all around while simultaneously stabbing a pencil through his head. Were you truly so weak to his charm? All you needed was to clear your head, right?

Same thoughts over and over again swarmed your head, even after a long day in work. You barely dragged your feet to your small house in exhaustion. You kicked off your shoes in hallway with a sigh and went straight to the living room. All you wanted was to lay on the couch, watch some stupid chick flick and let sleep take you.

The last thing you expected though, was a large figure lounging on the couch in complete darkness. Once you switched on lights you quickly recognized the one and only Vigilante.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You yelped sternly and swiftly pulled out your gun from a holster, wasting no time to point it at him. You were used to having everything under control, nothing could surprise you, so how did this guy manage to catch you off guard all the time, how did he manage to make your life so messy and most importantly how did he manage to break into your home?

“You’ve been slacking, I wanted to know what’s up.” Vigilante cocked his head up with absolutely no other reaction to being pointed at with a gun. You wanted to shoot him in the face just for this nonchalant gesture.

“You don’t chase after me anymore,” Another bored shrug, this time he sat up on your couch and leaned his head to the side like a confused puppy. “I missed your sour face.” The way his tone changed, from accusing to clear and soft, made you loosen the grip on your gun.

The first time Vigilante got almost caught by you got him addicted even more to the adrenaline. All this time he was getting kick from killing criminals, beating up scums that don’t respect rules. Getting drunk on the feeling of power. But the second he was cutting corners, sprinting through streets with you on his tail, unlocked a whole new world for him.

The intensity of danger, one wrong step and you would catch him, put handcuffs on him and throw him in jail. This little addiction he had was as dangerous as being addicted to any other drug. Doing anything to get another dose, this time it meant sneaking into your house and confronting you from eye to eye.

“How did you get in here?” Overreaction was audible in your question and there was no wonder. Usually secure house was suddenly intruded by the masked menace of Evergreen that basked in running away from you while laughing like a maniac. Now? He came up right to you, giving you opportunity to catch him right in act of breaking and entering.

You just kept standing there watching him walk over to you without fear, without a doubt.

“You forgot to close your bathroom window,” The tip of your gun met his chest piece when he finally stopped right in front of you. Even without the benefit of seeing his face, you knew in your bones he was smirking “It was hard to squeeze through, I’m expecting applause or something.”

A frown was all he got in retaliation, nothing more and nothing else was in place for his stunt. A sensible reaction from someone whose house just got broken into, he knew it damn well, yet it did not please him.

Vigilante freed his hands from gloves and threw them hastily on the floor beside your feet, all while staring down at you. Curiosity got the better of your conscience, finger slowly moving away from the trigger, but the gun kept being pressed against his body.

Big hands cupped your cheeks, thumbs pulling at the corners of your mouth and forcing them into a lousy smile as his reward. If you refuse to give him acknowledgment it will be taken by force. His laugh was being muffled by the fabric of the dark mask, the one that had blood all over a few weeks back.

That time you were the one under the influence of alcohol that bent your consciousness, this time you felt a whiff of alcohol in Vigilante’s breath. The thought of him having to take a shot or two to give him enough courage to actually step into your territory made you all giddy inside. Maybe the all-mighty Vigilante, the menace of Evergreen, is not as indestructible as he claimed to be.

“Just between you and me, I know you don’t want to lock me up for real-“

“But I do.” You quickly interrupted him. Don’t give in.

“No, you don’t. I can see it on your face. You’re enjoying it far too much just like I do.” Debatable. But he had a point. “I mean yeah, you are pointing a gun at me and shit, but you kissed me back that night. That means something!”

He threw his hands in the air and a cheery voice just completed his dramatic bravado. However, as much as you would like to deny it, you did in fact make out with him back in that alleyway instead of doing your job.

“Do you usually make out with police officers to shake them off your track?”

“Just with you.” His hands found their place on your waist and started to play with the belt loops. And you let him continue… What is wrong with you?

“Oh I’m flattered, how is it working out for you?” With a fake smile, you pressed the gun more into his chest.

“You tell me.” Vigilante strikes again with painful truth. Yes, you were pointing your gun at him, but he had you cornered in your living room, hands seductively rubbing your hips and you let him get away with yet another murder. Well done.

His mask got rolled up and you got a chance to admire his lips. Before you could say another snarky remark, Vigilante silenced you with an urgent kiss. It was his time to shine, to bite your lip, to shove his tongue in your mouth and tangle with yours. He gave you no time to think about anything else except him.

“You know how the saying goes: Keep your friends close and your enemies even closer.” He hastily unbuttoned your work slacks, pulling the zipper down far too hard you were afraid for a moment he got it stuck. Even though you should have been more worried about the fact you just got your pants shown down your thighs.

“You consider me an enemy?” You sighed out and focused on his warm fingertips playing with the elastic of your underwear. Touches light, like his fingers were asking for permission. The lack of protests signalized a green light he was waiting for.

“Only if you shoot me.” A toothy grin plastered his face when you pressed the barrel of your gun sternly to his chin and tilted his head up. How could you pass on that opportunity to rile him up like this.

“If it means you’ll stay close to me I just might.”  With those words his hand slipped past the hem of your panties, going straight for the kill and giving all the attention to your throbbing clit. He chuckled at your reaction, how you acted all tough and yet your body begged for his touch.

Your eyelids fluttered at the sudden contact, the precision he held in killing criminals clearly dominated other areas as well. Small and stern circles changed to slow and light flicks and back and all of it was accompanied by an intense gaze that searched for any kind of reaction.

You wonder what color his eyes are, that red visor was not flattering them in any way. Would he stare at you so shamelessly even without his mask or did it bring him a fake feeling of anonymity that pushed the boundaries of this escapade.

Vigilante bent down his head to the gun that lingered near his face. You could not believe your eyes for a second when he pressed a kiss to the tip of it before smirking. He’s practically begging for a bullet in his head with bullshit like this. He did not care he was basically being held at gunpoint.  A decision was made to hide your gun back in the holster harness, for the safety of both parties involved.

Your hands sneaked up to his neck that was bared to you, nails lightly scraping along his prominent Adam’s apple. You soon found out it made him wild, because the second you touched his neck, two fingers were recklessly shoved inside you, forcing out a loud moan out of you.

Shameful whimpers started pouring out from your lips, wetness seeping into your completely ruined underwear. You had to ground yourself against the wall since your legs started buckling under you. The feeling of submission poured over weak body, something you weren’t used to. With an abrupt yank you pulled Vigilante’s lips onto yours to give yourself just a second of control. You will allow him to take you apart with his fingers, but you will control when a how much he will kiss you.

Twisted part of your mind craved the taste of his bloody lips on your tongue again. There was no doubt he wouldn’t tolerate you biting his lip again to make him bleed like the last time. Or would he? You did not dare.

A better option was to sneak your hands to the back of his neck. A bit of hair poking out from his bunched-up mask caught your attention. Now you knew he had brown hair. Add it to his dimples, surprisingly sweet laugh, bold demeanor and an idea of a person is born, suddenly so real. Especially when he was jackhammering his thick fingers right to your G spot.

You wanted more. You needed more. Fingers tried to slip under his mask with hopes he would not notice it when you were distracting him with your tongue in his mouth. This wasn’t fair towards him at all, he was making you feel so good and you were trying to pull his mask off.

If you knew how he looked like it would not be any trouble to find him and arrest him. That’s why you came to Evergreen voluntarily after all. If all of this was just a means to an end…

But Vigilante quickly realized what were you trying to do and caught your wrist before you could continue. “Seriously?” Annoyance seeped from his voice, grip on your wrist so tight to the point it almost hurt. But your wide eyes that stared at him like deer caught in headlights made him soften his hold.

“At least buy me a dinner before you try to pull my mask off.” He laughed it off, but pulled his fingers from your pussy and you whined at the loss.

He let go off your hand and let it drop to your body. Instead he pulled his fingers from your panties and inspected the arousal coating them before bringing them to his lips. The sight alone made you sigh.

“You taste so sweet. If only you treated me so sweetly too.” Fingers popped from his mouth, covered in spit instead of your wetness. Oh, you’re fucked.

“Lose these.” You playfully tugged on his tactical belt.

“So demanding. Very sexy of you.”

The suit had quite a complicated mechanism and rather than losing his pants he just popped the button open to free his cock, hard and leaking precum. Hot and ready to go.

His gaze lingered on you as you pulled your pants and underwear down your legs. Breath got caught in his throat at the sight of your skin. A blank canvas for him to paint.

In an instant he lunged back at you, hooking hands under your knees to raise you up and making you hook your legs around his waist. Heat radiating from his body to your core was such a lovely contrast to the cold pieces of his suit that pressed against you throughout the evening.

“Are we really about to do this?” You were breathless, sandwiched between a wall and Vigilante leaning over you.

“Only if you want to.” So genuine. A man with no boundaries asking for consent, it surprised you more than it should have. “I do.”

“Baller”

Head of his cock swiped over your clit roughly. That bastard was teasing you more and more and enjoyed every second of it. His lips parted in awe, eyes were glued down to watch the pretty sight. You became something more than a police officer going after him or prey for him to take, but God forbid if he ever admitted that to you or even himself.

“I hate you.” Voice was shaking with anticipation and so was your body. A quick chaste kiss washed away the hate you felt even if it was just for a second, then he slid into you in one clean glide until your pelvises were flush against each other.

You both moaned out into each other’s open mouths. Someone would say it was just a noise of shameful lust. For you? A nasty symphony that set off something inside, the same type of addiction that controlled the man in front of you.

“If you sound so heavenly when you hate someone I’m really curious how you sound when you love someone.” He licked his lips and bucked his hips up to force another sweet mewl out.

“Go to hell” You knew it did not sound convincing and that fucker saw right through you. Because if you truly hated Vigilante so badly he wouldn’t be balls deep inside you, stretching you out with burning pleasure. With another vain chuckle, he started snapping his hips into you with urgency.

Vigilante filled you in the best and the worst way possible. Relieving the thirst your body was screaming with as well as putting a patch over the deep hole of anger and frustration he had been digging in your heart since you met him for the first time.

There was nothing gentle or graceful about what happened. Messy, desperate, vicious, and addictive is what it was.

You tightly hold onto him with arms around his neck, clinging like a koala.

If only your squad saw you like this. You have been boasting and promising how you’re gonna be the one to catch Vigilante. And here you were, it seemed he caught you more likely. Driving his cock into you in the dimness of your living room like it was his usual nightly activity.

Truth be told, he kept fucking with you all this time to make you mad, but never in a million years you would have guessed he will be fucking with you for real.

The strong grip he had on your thighs loosened with every hard thrust. Legs were slowly but surely slipping from his waist to the floor. All his power was concentrated on snapping hips and harsh kisses until nothing was left for his arms to hold you up, yet he refused to let go of you. Gnarly bruises were forming where his fingertips dug into the soft skin of your thighs, making this meeting even more bitter-sweet.

“You can be so good when you want to be,” You barely whispered it against his lips between your combined moans “You’re so good for me. Such a good boy-“

“Fuck I’m gonna cum! Fuuck!” His whine was long and high-pitched, you wanted to hear more of it, but he muffled his cries with a bite on your neck. Normally you would not allow him to bite you, there could always be an exception, and this was one of them.

Especially when he got into a sprint to the finish line, he found hidden strength to bounce you on his cock as much as this lousy position allowed him.

His pelvis was hitting your pulsating clit so gloriously, wet slaps filling your ears, moans and whimpers digging deep into your memory, there was no way you could hold on.

And you did not. Fireworks exploded behind closed eyelids, tingly heat spread from your core to the very tips of your toes, ecstasy consumed every fiber of your being.

Too busy floating on cloud nine to notice Vigilante clenching his teeth around the skin of your neck, creating another vulgar bruise. Too busy to register a loud groan he let out with one last thrust. Too busy to notice ropes of cum coating your spasming walls, filling you to the brim.

His hold no longer supported you when he leaned all his weight on you, chest rising and falling against yours with every deep breath. Being too sensitive to pull out he nestled inside you, basking in the warmth of your cunt.

“You know… You almost got me that one time. After that burglary in the liquor shop,” He murmured against your neck, pressing apologetic kisses to the spot he had bitten. “And I’ve been thinking about it tonight-”

“Where are you going with this?”

“I’m trying to tell you! Don’t interrupt me, dude.” Did he just call you ‘dude’?

“I wanted to say that I realized if I’ll keep fucking you until you can’t walk, you have no chance of catching me.” He pulled away from the crook of your neck and genuinely smiled at your dazzled face.

“Bold of you to assume I’m letting you inside my house ever again. I will remember to close that window next time.” At this point, you started to struggle to keep your head calm.

“Bold of you to assume I don’t know about the spare key in the flowerpot in front of your house.” That motherfucker. Now you have to relocate the key somewhere else.

“Sounds like a threat.”

“More like a promise.”

He pulled out and tucked himself back into his pants without a second thought. You watched with open mouth as he gathered ruined panties and pants while you leaned against the wall with weak legs. He acted so nicely, it made your heart melt. Just a little.

All of this almost made you feel bad for your intentions. You were there to throw him in front of a court and move on to the big league, but Vigilante just enjoyed your presence, your interest, albeit the wrong kind.

“Don’t pretend you hate me,” He handed you clothes and booped your nose with the tip of his pointer. With one last pretty smile, he pulled the mask over his face and made his way to your front door. “See ya later, loser!”

He just left you standing there with his cum running down your legs like it was nothing. Like he didn't just give you the best orgasm you had in a while. Oh God, What have you gotten yourself into…

[torialefay]

jealous sex with hannnnnnn 🫶🏽 please?

Jealous Sex With Han ❌

dom!jisung x gn!reader

✨ synopsis: hannie doesn't handle it well when he sees you with another one of his members.

✨ warnings: degradation, use of "whore" and "slut", borderline toxic jisung, dub-con, MINORS DNI 🔞

• jisung had been side-eyeing you most of the night. he kept his jaw clenched and would barely make eye contact with you. every time you tried to go up and talk to him- nothing, he would just shoo you away.

• you couldn't wait for the concert to be over. surely he'd be in a better mood after getting all that dopamine release.

• but you were wrong.

• you had expected him to come back to the artist lounge with a smile, as hyper as he normally was. but tonight, he was anything BUT that.

• you tried to get his attention as he walked past, ignoring you completely.

• "jisung! what is the matter with you?!" you snapped.

• he stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face you. his eyes grew big as he stared into your own, challenging you. "we're talking about it when we get to the hotel." you'd never seen him so serious or have so much conviction about something.

• all you could do was back away and try to avoid him as best you could.

-------

• once you'd arrived to the hotel, you could do nothing but try to get through the awkward silence.

• you were both unpacking your bags slowly, trying to ignore the tension in the room. after getting it most of the way done, you were fed up and couldn't take anymore.

• "hannie. seriously. what's the matter?" you asked, walking up behind him just next to the bed.

• he turned, sucking his cheeks in. obviously still frustrated.

• "did i say i was ready to talk about it?" he threw at you.

• "well... no..." you looked away.

• "then don't try to fucking push me right now, y/n! i'm trying so hard to..." he broke out into a frustrated smile as he ran his hands through his hair. "i'm trying so hard to be good right now, but fuck you're making it hard."

• "then let's talk about it," you said in a small voice.

• "let's talk about it? alright fine, let's fucking talk about it. what is the matter with you? you think i didn't see you with changbin? fucking letting him piggy back you around like he's some big tough guy? like your boyfriend couldn't do that for you? like be so fucking real right now, just because he's bigger than me, you think he's tougher than me huh?" he started moving his body towards you. you could see the aggression overtaking him.

• "you think he's tougher than me? you think he's more man than me HUH?" he was now borderline screaming in your face. it made you feel so small, yet... excited?

• "well i've got news for you sweetheart, he could never do to you what i can. he could never fuck you harder or make you scream louder than i can."

• you felt your breath hitch in your throat, starting to get nervous. but your mind couldn't help but wander to how hot he looked... how good he would feel.

• "pull your pants down and bend over the bed. now." he said, already pulling his sweats and underwear down to reveal his cock. you almost choked seeing how hard it was already.

• you knew now wasn't a time that you wanted to fight back. you'd never seen him in this state and you didn't want to find out what would happen if you didn't listen. you pulled both your underwear and jeans down all in one go and laid yourself on the bed so that you were bent over.

• "all that fucking ass is mine, you hear me?!" he yelled, landing a smack to one cheek. you let out a small whimper, but nothing more.

• "I SAID DO YOU HEAR ME?" another smack came down, turning you instantly bright red. it stung and you weren't used to it, but you tried your best to appease him.

• "yes," you mustered.

• "good," another smack. "now what you're gonna do," he said, lining himself up at your entrance. "is lay there and be a good little whore for me."

• all of a sudden, he thrusted inside of you. no warning, no warm up. nothing.

• you couldn't help but let out a small scream. with no time to adjust, he felt so big so quickly. it didn't feel bad, but it was an all new sensation.

• he gripped onto your hips harshly, digging in so you'd eventually get bruises by the end of it.

• "how do you like that, whore?" he yelled, starting to pound relentlessly into you. "is this what you wanted? to get some fucking dick?"

• he had picked up the pace to the point that you couldn't catch your breath. every time you tried to take a breath in, he pulled your hips down toward him, pounding into you and making you lose your breath. a small moan left you feeling defeated.

• you couldn't reply. there was no way you could get anything out. your mind fogged over, lost in the sensation.

• "aw, look at that. can't even take it. i thought you were a whore baby? you can't even take this?" he kept pounding and pounding. you almost couldn't resist the pleasure and pain you felt, trying to melt into him but still having to clench from his harshness.

• all of a sudden, he brought his thrusts to a slow and leaned his body down on top of yours. for a second you thought he may calm down and hug you from behind.

• but god, were you wrong.

• he crouched over to pull his chest into your back, close enough so he could whisper in your ear. "nobody can fuck you like i can. you'd do good to remember that."

• with that, he grabbed your hair in both hands and lifted up, pulling your head and chest with him. he started to thrust into you harder than he ever had. he was animalistic, throwing out groans as he went. he couldn't stop.

• he repositioned himself to hold your hair in one hand now so the other could make its way down to slap your ass.

• he loved the way you looked for him. back arched with your hair in his hand, choking your neck back. your ass bright red and hot for him. his little slut.

• it just made him want to go harder.

• "that's a good whore," he smiled and laughed maniacally.

• you couldn't help but let a few tears stream down from the lack of air and the overstimulation you were experiencing. jisung was relentless in his spanks and his thrusts. you didn't think you'd be able to handle it much longer.

• just as suddenly, he started to moan louder. he let out a loud growl as he hit your ass again, watching it bounce for him.

• this was the hardest he'd ever felt. he gripped your hair even tighter and arched you back further, almost bending you in half.

• "who do you belong to slut? i want you to fucking say it"

• you couldn't get anything out. your whole face was red and you couldn't get a breath out, let alone a word.

• "WHOSE GODDAMN SLUT ARE YOU?! YOU BETTER FUCKING GET IT OUT."

• you tried to scream it, but only air got past your vocal cords. you tried again, and finally the remnants of "yours" could be made out.

• "that's fucking right," he yelled, releasing your hair and sending you back onto the bed. you gasped for air, trying to escape the fuzziness in your head.

• he grabbed back onto your hips to give deep, hard thrusts. his breathing started getting shaky, so you knew he was close. you beared down onto him reflexively, trying to give your aching pussy what it needed.

• "ah fuckkkk-" he whined. he dug his hands into you, not letting up.

• you started to feel numb everywhere. he had officially fucked you out. you could feel him hitting the one exact spot that sent you into overdrive. over and over again. but there was nothing you could do.

• "fuck! feels so fucking good." his thrusts got quick, quick enough that you knew he was going to cum any second.

• "goddamn it my own fucking whore. too fucking good for me. you're never going to leave my sight again, you understand? FUCK. my fucking slut." he growled, sending one final hard thrust into you before he felt a release. you could feel him start to twitch inside of you.

• "aughhhhhhh," he moaned as he rode out his high, continuing inside of you until he couldn't anymore.

• once he was finally done, he leaned his head back to admire his handywork. how red you were.

• he gently rubbed your ass cheeks, massaging around the redness, before pulling on your hand to bring you back up.

• he didn't say anything, just planted a kiss to your forehead.

• he had a much softer tone now, definitely softer than 2 minutes ago.

• "i'm serious, don't go doing that with changbin anymore, okay? you're mine. they all need to respect that."

[skteezcursed]

❝MANWICH❞ — k.ys & c.jh

part i || part ii || part iii.

PAIRING. kang yeosang x reader x bf! choi jongho.

GENDER AND WARNINGS. smut. idol verse. dom jongho. switch yeosang. sub reader. masturbation (both recieving). oral (both recieving). handjob. fingering. mxm action (only one part, so you can jump that if you are uncomfortable). cum eating. double penetration. p in v. overstimulation. lmk if i forget anything (i probably did).

SYNOPSIS. in which jongho choses to make one of your dreams come true with the helping hand of yeosang.

WORD COUNT. 7,7k.

NOTES. english is not my first language. this is a collab with @songmingisthighs & @bro-atz, this is the third and final part, also apparently i'm the only one who remembers how tihs crazy collab came to be, but yeah, i gave my best on this, i hope is up to everyone standards and lets be honest, the standards are high after those two amazing parts help. i also didn't think it would turn out like this, but anyways, hope you enjoy it, bye ♡.

IMPORTANT. this is a work of fiction, it has zero intent on portraing how any of the people quoted here are in real life.

CREDS. dividers by cafekitsune ♡

                There were many things Yeosang was proud of, there were many things he could endure. He was a person with a strong conviction, he wasn’t a person to fold easily, or to beg, or to show his soft side. At least not until you came into the picture, at least not until he managed to have you around his arms, to have you wrapped around him in more ways than one. If he was to say the truth, those two weeks he had with you, every single night having you squeeze him in between your legs, hearing you whimper and screaming his name were like a dream.

                A fever dream he was now, trying to recover from.

                Unfortunately, just like Jongho had been stuck in the studio, was now his turn, and for the last month, not only he had to barely see you because Hongjoong would lock him in the studio or Yunho and Wooyoung would lock him in the dance practice room, he also had to come home late at night and hear you and Jongho every damn fucking night.

                He knew it was wrong to crave you the way he did. The offer Jongho had proposed all those weeks ago still felt like a trick. Did Jongho really allow Yeosang to have you in every way?, to satisfy your needs in every way? Yes, yes he did. In all honesty, that day really wasn’t on Yeosang’s mind, at least not until the day you and Jongho returned from that trip he said he’d take you. 

                That was when he started to question everything, if it had even been real. The two weeks he had your legs squeezing his face as he ate you out, the two weeks he was buried inside you whispering sweet nothings as he watched your face contort with pleasure, pleasure he was giving you.

                Everynight he returned home, everytime you and Jongho kept him awake as Yeosang could hear all the moaning and beg that you did for Jongho, just like you had done with him all those weeks prior, his name never leaving your lips, the sweet delicious lips that he often on imagined wrapping around his cock as he could hear the two of you through the walls. Fuck he was a pervert, no, he was a simp. A perverted simp, if that was even a thing.

                As if his situation wasn’t bad already, as his mind kept wandering back to those weeks he had you, it also returned on how you ended up on his dick. By a motherfucking proxy kiss. If that wasn’t horrible, he now not only imagined – vividly – you around his cock, but the way he could hear Jongho command you and toying with you, was also starting to rail him up, the damn kiss playing over and over in his head when all he could hear was Jongho, probably because he was muffing your sounds and, in all honesty, the way Jongho spoke during sex should not have such an effect on him.

                When the two of you were being vocal, Yeosang couldn’t help but curse and imagine him with the two of you, on how you would whimper in between them, or how Jongho could easily manhandle the both of you, as he had done several times to both in different scenarios. He should not be thinking of you like that, he should not be thinking about his friend and member like that, yet, it was all he could think for the past week as he would use his fist, imagining it was you, as his mind would wander around imagining Jongho commanding you and Yeosang around. 

                “Good God, fuck-”

                That was his mistake, making him bite his lip with his other hand against his mouth containing the moans that wanted to leave him as the warm white stripes of cum would go all over his abdomen, it was only then he noticed how quiet the whole house was, a moment of panic flowing through him.

                “Fu-fuuuuuck!”

                When he heard your crying moan and Jongho’s little laugh, he could finally breathe peacefully. Hopefully neither of you would’ve heard him, hopefully he was still in the clear, being able to fuck himself at the thought of the two of you. Fuck, he was completely doomed at that point. Yeosang bit his lips as the sound of your wet pussy echoing through the dorm, along with your little moans and pleading pointless words sank through his body, making his cock getting hard again. 

                Giving him no other choice but to fist his leaking cock one more, using the cum on his body to help him find his release once again, your loud moans being the only focus of his, as he shut his eyes, his fist moving firmly against his length, completely unaware of how a certain figure passed through the room, a small smirk on his lips as he kept his walk towards the kitchen in search of getting you some more water. 

                Today was the first day in a while he had a break from everything, so he ran home just so he could relax. He knew you and Jongho wouldn’t be home, so he would also be able to relax and not have the imagine of any of you making him hard. No, that moment was for him to purely relax at the cozyness of their home. So, Yeosang took a long warm shower, made something for him to eat, making sure to leave some for you and Jongho to share as he knew you’d whine if you noticed he made food and left nothing for you.

                Once he was finally done, he sat down on the couch, his head resting peacefully on the back of the couch, eyes shutting down and sleep finally catching up to him. If he could just sleep it would be incredible, but the world had a different plan, or rather, Jongho, had a different plan.

                Although Yeosang sighed loudly at the pop-up text, he just locked his phone once more, only to be followed by three more notifications in a row. With a low curse spoken, he lit up the phone, the last notification being a simple, ‘open the damn text’ from Jongho, which he quickly did, regretting the same second his eyes were found with your smile, your cute little laugh filling out the dorm and Yeosang caught himself smiling at the screen.

                You two were out together at a park, your shorts leaving your legs bare for his eyes to linger as Jongho made sure to focus a lot on you from afar, and Yeosang couldn’t stop his mind from wandering towards the memories of your smooth skin against his, your legs wrapped around him, legs squishing his face while he ate you out. Then the laugh filled the space, the laugh you would leave whenever he kissed your neck after sex, or when his fingers lightly caressed your heated skin, or when he dropped an unfunny joke, but you laughed as if he had said the most hilarious thing ever. 

                Fuck, he missed you.

                The memories of all those weeks flew back into his mind as his fist worked around his length, teasing himself at the thought of you, you with him, you with Jongho, you. He was down bad and that was bound to become a real issue, but as of now all he wanted was to think of you, on how pretty you sounded when you moaned his name, how your nails dig into his flesh and scalp whenever he was eating you out or burying himself in you. At last, his thoughts went to the first time he had you, on that very same couch weeks ago, on how your pleas were music to his ears, on how perfectly your cunt hugged his cock, how pretty you looked above him impaled on his dick.

                His train of thoughts was cut short as he heard the lock on the door, how long has he been edging himself? In a quick movement, he picked one of the cushions, placing it on his lap as he took his phone swiping randomly at the screen, his cock aching under the cushion as the pressure made him hold a whimper as he heard you and Jongho entering. Both eyes quickly found Yeosang as he forced a smile trying to sound natural, but he noticed Jongho’s stare, most specifically on the cushion Yeosang held firmly against his lap.

                “My raccoon! You are finally home!” The fact that you didn’t notice how uneasy he was, made him give you a genuine smile, but still moved a little away from you, a small wrinkle on his nose as he did so, feeling the fabric of the cushion cause friction against his cock. “Sangie, you okay?”

                “M-me? Ye-yeah, I’m fine, totally fine!”

                He knew by the confusion in your face that you didn’t fall for that, walking closer to him, making him try to stay put, although his cock ached at every step you took closer.

                “You sure? Your face is red, maybe you have a fever or -”

                “Sweetheart he says he’s fine,” Jongho’s voice made you both turn to face him, but you still turned to Yeosang, your hand finding his forehead and neck, before he flinches away from you, not noticing your hurt face at that. “Why don’t you go take a shower, hm? Maybe do what we talked about?”

                “Okay teddy bear,” your voice was weak and Yeosang almost let out a whimper at how obedient you were being, “take care of Sangie, I don’t think he is fine.”

                “Don’t worry sweetheart, just do as I say, yes?” As they both watch you walk away, Jongho’s eyes find Yeosang once again, but his eyes are closed. “C’mon,” his voice was stern as the older one eyed him confused. “Hyung, don’t question, just come, let’s go to your room.”

                As soon as Jongho’s back faced Yeosang, he put his cock back into his trousers, cushion forgotten back on the couch as he tried his best to keep his hard on hidden. Jongho is on the desk as he points to the chair beside him.

                “Jjong, look -”

                “Sit.”

                It was all it took for Yeosang to know it was time for the dreadful talk.

                The talk in which Jongho would lash out on him for telling you he liked you, for fucking you every night for two weeks straight, for fucking you in Jongho’s fucking bed, for -. “Take it out.”

                “What?”

                “Take it out.”

                Jongho said it again, right hand on the desk as his left was inside his front pocket. His eyes and jaw sharp, not leaving Yeosang’s face even for a second, making the older one feel considerably small beside him.

                “Take what out?”

                “I know you are hard as fuck right now hyung,” Yeosang’s eyes shot up and he felt his cock twitches inside his trousers as Jongho lowered himself just a little, “now take it out and start stroking.”

                He shouldn’t be as turned on as he was.

                He shouldn’t be as turned on as he was by thinking about you, his friend’s girlfriend.

                He shouldn’t be as turned on as he was for how Jongho was talking to him.

                “J-Jongho, ple-please I-”

                “Take it out now, hyung.”

                Yeosang’s breath hitched as he looked down at the tent and wet patch on his trousers. Thank fuck you were in the shower, or would you like to see him like this? At yours and Jongho’s mercy? Something deep inside of him told him you would like that. He whined a little at the friction of his sweats against his red angry sensitive leaking cock, moaning as it was finally free, twitching slightly as Yeosang’s eyes found Jongho’s attentive ones already on the red tip, but he was still dead serious, and that was a little unsettling to say the least.

                Jongho leans over, face mere centimeters away from Yeosang who was already panting. A small shock went over Yeosang’s face as Jongho’s hand went to his lips, his tongue wetting the palm before his fingers met with the red tip, smearing the pre cum all over the head before going up and down Yeosang’s length.

                He had to admit, Yeosang had a pretty cock and having him do Jongho’s every bit made the younger one wanna play with the older one a little bit. The image of you and Yeosang coming back to his head, the moan he heard from both your lips that night he found the two of you in his bed coming back to him, on how turned on he was despite being slightly angry at the situation, or was it jealous? He didn’t know anymore, all he knew was that he wanted you both to squirm under him, fuck he wanted to see you both fucking again, but this time, he’d be present to guide you both through it, to see both of your fucked out faces as he buries his cock into both of you.

                Seeing Yeosang whimpering and squirming all thanks to his hands was a sight he never knew he wanted or needed. Whenever he started to shiver, Jongho would slow down the movements of his hands and fingers and watch Yeosang break little by little at that. On the other hand, Yeosang couldn’t do anything but to curse as he felt Jongho’s hand work on his cock, how good he was, how much at his misery the oldest one was, and how much he liked it.

                “Look at me hyung,” he couldn’t, he couldn’t open his eyes, all he wanted was to cum, “I said, look at me,” a harsh squeeze made Yeosang jolt and open his eyes in shock, finding a small smirk on Jongho’s lips although his eyes were dead serious. He gulped knowing that was the moment Jongho would tell him that it was over, that he would never have you, that he -. “You wanna fuck my girlfriend, don’t you?”

                As Yeosang remained silent, Jongho’s hand squeezed his cock once again, the wet sounds already even more present whenever his fingers went up the tip, spreading more of the precum, making Yeosang whimper and bite his lip.

                “Th-that’s not -”

                “Don’t fucking lie to me,” his voice died on his throat at Jongho’s words and torturous movements. “I know you want to, so I’ll let you fuck her again.”

                “Huh? Jjong what are you argh fu-”

                Fuck, why was Jongho so fucking good with his hands?!

                Yeosang’s thighs start to shake as his chest starts to go up and down, as his abdomen contracts even more, Jongho knows he’s at his limit, he’s gonna cum at any second and Jongho can’t help but smile as he sees Yeosang's spent expression. His smile only grows wider as he notices the shower noise being cut out, you were done and now the fun would happen.

                “Sweetheart, are you done?”

                “Yes, teddy bear, where are you?”

                The panic on Yeosang’s features made Jongho move his hands a little faster, but just enough to contain whatever thing the older one was planning on doing.  “Come to Yeosang’s room.”

                Although you were confused as to why Jongho would be in Yeosang’s room, you didn’t question as you tiptoed your way there, only to gasp at the sight in front of you. Yeosang fucked out face, cock out, red, angry and wet, being held by your boyfriend’s hand as he eyed you with a smirk, letting go of Yeosang turning towards you, eyes drinking every single part of your body regardless of the barrier of the towel.

                “Jjong, what -”

                “Perfect,” he says as his wet fingers call you towards where he and Yeosang were. You do as you are told, trying to ignore how wet you already feel yourself becoming, pushing your thighs together at each step which doesn’t go unnoticed by Jongho, whose smirk grows wider. “Lose the towel and get on the bed.”

                Your eyes avert to Yeosang once more, meeting it again before your eyes go to his rock-hard cock, wetting your lips ignoring how mouthwatering it was, how bad you wanted it in your mouth. As you lowered your head watching the towel fall to the ground, you also noticed the tent in Jongho’s pants, your eyes meeting him once more, the smirk present as his hands both went to his pockets, and you knew his hard on was getting uncomfortable. You took slow steps towards the bed, hyper aware of both their eyes on your naked glory as you crawled towards the bed.

                The whimper that left Yeosang and the groan that left Jongho, made you smile at yourself before turning back to them, knees shut together as you sat on your heels, hands crossed in front of your body, waiting for more orders. Jongho’s eyes turn to Yeosang, a simple ‘strip’ is said and the oldest looks between the two of you before finding Jongho nodding and you smiling, not taking long before he gets up the chair, striping down from every piece of fabric against his skin.

                Your breath is caught on your throat at the sight of him, but it doesn’t last long as Jongho also starts to strip, causing you and Yeosang to slightly panic, even if for different reasons. In all truth, you had led on the idea of having a threesome with the two of them, but never to open about it, yet you tried to make the idea blossom in Jongho’s mind. When he told you to get all clean up, you knew it meant that tonight you’d be fucked good, you just didn’t expect for Yeosang to be participating in it, but you weren’t complaining.

                On the other hand, Yeosang felt a pit in his stomach as he watched Jongho strip, his eyes averting for every single part of the youngest body, on how the wet stains would stick the clothes, the wetness being the mix of saliva and precum from how well Jongho had worked him up, his cock twitching again at the memory begging to cum at once, begin to be buried in your cunt or to be around Jongho’s fingers once more. Fuck, he was doomed.

                “Hyung, all fours on the bed,” the voice that came out of Jongho was dark, full of lust and Yeosang knew what awaited him, he just didn’t expected to be so eager for that to happen to make him question if it was a dream, one of the fucked up dreams he’s been having since hearing you and Jongho fuck every day and night since you two got back from your trip. “Hyung?”

                “Jjong, maybe he’s not okay with -”

                “If you are gonna fuck my girlfriend, I’m gonna be present, are you okay with that, hyung?”

                The subtlety that Jongho said that he will be present however he sees fit, made Yeosang gulp, looking at you once more, all pretty in the bed waiting for both of them to ruin you. The thought of both their cocks buried in you made Yeosang close his eyes and let out a breath before heading for the nightstand, opening the drawer and handing the lube to Jongho, who smirked at the oldest one who heads your way, standing right in front of you. Your pretty breasts insight for him, making his hands twitch to grab them, to pinch the perked-up nipples, to hear you moan to -

                “(y/n) spread your legs so we can see you properly, will you, sweetheart?” You do as Jongho says, your hands going to the mattress as you lift your hips moving your legs around until they are wide open on the bed, the sight of your wet folds making both boys in front of you smile. “Now, hyung, all fours, I want you to look at that pretty cunt while I take care of you for a while, yes?”

                Both noticed how you clenched at those words, biting your lip as you saw how lenient Yeosang was towards Jongho’s schemes, you threatened to close your legs, but Yeosang’s strong hands held them open making you whimper at the smirk he gave your way. The lube quickly being opened as Jongho took a good amount spreading on his fingers and on Yeosang’s ass, which you saw him closing his eyes. Fuck, this is gonna be one hell of a night.

                Your eyes met Jongho’s as he lowered his lubed fingers towards Yeosang’s cheeks, his right hand pushing one cheek to the side before playing with the hole as you saw the man in front of you whine and bite his lips, your hand cupping his face, making him look at you. Once he lifted his face, you could see the wet patch on the duvet from Yeosang’s leaking cock.

                One last look at Jongho, a small question there, the only answer you got was a small air kiss, so you pushed your body forward. The same time your lips met Yeosang’s, Jongho’s fingers entered his asshole, a loud moan left Yeosang’s lips but that didn’t stop either of you to kiss. How much you missed his lips, how much you missed his body, his reactions, him.

                Yeosang had been good to you, both you and Jongho knew, he also wasn’t stupid, your boyfriend knew how you two looked at each other, but he also knew you would never leave him or do something without his permission. He also knew Yeosang would never try to steal you from him, so what was the bad thing about sharing once in a while? If everyone was okay with the arrangements?

                Once you noticed how Yeosang would only moan stead of kissing you, your lips started to move around his face, kissing the corner of his mouth and his sharp jaw, as your fingers would tangle in his hair, scratching his scalp as you feel yourself getting wetter at the sign of him like that. Moving yourself closer to him, your legs still spread open, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Jongho, who worked his fingers up Yeosang stretching him open a few more times, feeling his own cock starting to hurt.

                “Hyung, eat her out.”

                Yeosang doesn’t take a second to waste as he lowers his head finding your wet cunt, feeling Jongho’s hand grip his waist holding it up as he put more lube putting on both Yeosang’s ass and his cock, pumping a few times watching as your face contorted in pleasure at how Yeosang’s tongue was playing around your clit and folds, your hand going straight to his hair as your other sustained your body, making your back arch, giving Jongho clear sight of your perked up breasts before he pushed his tip on Yeosang’s asshole, making him moan against your pussy.

                “Fuck, this is…”

                Your words died down at your lips as Yeosang lips closed around your clit, moaning as he felt Jongho stretch him out from behind, the tip of his cock touching the duvet just enough so he knew he wouldn’t last, but Jongho picks up on that, pulling his hips towards his cock, making his dick dangle loosely, receiving a whine from Yeosang.

                “Once she comes, you can cum.”

                “GOD FUCK!”

                It was like a fucking prayer to listen to you scream like that, to see the pleasure building up in you, to see how your eyes rolled back, to see your legs tremble, to see you biting your lip trying to contain the moans that were to leave you. Those things only turned Jongho more as he held Yeosang’s hips tighter, ramming against him, hearing your moans and his, completing each other in front of Jongho.

                As the youngest took a pace behind Yeosang, he became an incoherent mess of moans, which make him eye you with hooded eyes before using one of his hands to hold you in place as his dominant hand played with your folds, all while he left a chaste kiss on your clit making you arch your back before gasping as he pushed two fingers inside of you, curling them as his thumb pressed circular motions on your bundle of nerve along with random kitty licks when he felt himself capable of using his mouth for anything other than moaning at how good it felt Jongho’s cock on his ass. All Yeosang wanted was to make you cum, not only because he loved to see your fucked out face, or how much of a mess you could make, but also because once you did, he was also allowed to cum after all the edging it has been happening.

                “C’mon princess, cum on my fingers, make a fucking mess like we all know you love to make.”

                That was your breaking point, Yeosang’s deep voice as Jongho fucked him from behind, his fingers curling inside of you so well that you couldn’t do anything but clench around them, your eyes went to Yeosang’s first before meeting with Jongho’s who had a smirk at your direction, mouth slightly ajar as he kept thrusting into Yeosang. And just like that, your whole body started to tremble, your legs shaking, caging Yeosang’s face against your core as his fingers wouldn’t stop pumping and curling inside of you, his nose bumping against your clit at every thrust Jongho made.

                “That’s it sweetheart, make a sweet mess on hyung’s face.”

                The scream that left your body came along with the pull you had on Yeosang’s hair as his tongue kept taking all of your juice, only meeting you once he was sure none of it would go to waste before crashing both your lips, and you moan as you tasted yourself on his tongue, but the connection was lost as Jongho pulled Yeosang towards him, holding him by the neck, giving you open view of Yeosang hard leaking cock. 

                “Baby bear, can I?”

                “Yes, sweetheart, I think hyung has been good for us, so put that mouth to use, will you?”

                So you laid flat on your stomach, kissing the tip of Yeosang’s cock, hearing one of the most pleasant moans leave his lips as you take your tongue out, kitty licks all over the head before licking your dominant hand to hold the base of his cock, only enough to hold him in place, but light enough that Jongho’s thrusts would pump the base ‘till the middle of his cock, as your mouth engulfed the other half and tip, the taste of the precum finding your taste buds making you roll your eyes back, finding Yeosang’s already down on you, and you realized he himself, was also moving his hips trying to get more of himself in your mouth. 

                Panting heavily, both men were starting to get sloppier with their thrusts, as you took Yeosang’s cock with a better grip, moving your head trying to get more of him every time, hollowing your cheeks feeling him closer and closer, by the noises you could hear from Jongho you knew he was also close, so you moved your hand under both of them grabbing hold of Jongho’s balls, hearing him groan loudly. Your cunt already wet just by seeing and hearing those two men.

                As Yeosang’s left hand found your hair, you knew he was gone, he wouldn’t last long. Your hand squeezed the base of his cock as your hand started to move along with your head. It's been a while since you had Yeosang crumbling in front of you and that was making a new round of arousal to find your core. 

                Once his left hand forced your head to a stop, the warm cum went down your throat not long after, but once you patted his thigh he let go of your head as you promptly tried to get every drop of his cum in your mouth. Ah small weak, ‘fuck, princess’ was heard, making you eye up fiding a fucked out Yeosang looking down at you sucking him dry. 

                “Such a pretty little thing, ain’t she.” Jongho’s voice came from a little behind and you noticed he too had cum as he took a clean towel around his cock, that was getting hard by the second, although you still had Yeosang’s cock in your mouth. Your boyfriend’s hand patted your head before the tips went all the way to your back. “Did you swallow everything like a good little slut, sweetheart?”

                “Yes, teddy bear,” you said, opening your mouth, sticking your tongue out, letting go of Yeosang’s now soft hardened cock as Jongho’s fingers took your jaw, pulling you in. “What do you want me to do now?”

                “Well, you thought of me while fucking hyung, and thought of him while fucking me, so I guess nothing better than having both of us fucking you, no sweetheart?” You gulp trying to close your legs, but Yeosang’s hand were faster cupping your wet core, the pads of his fingers pressing lightly on your swollen clit. “Now, be a good slut and let us take good care of you, yes?”

                Before you could answer your boyfriend’s lips were on yours, his hand firmly on the nape of your neck as you felt Yeosang’s hands leave your pussy, but the movement under you made you break the kiss only to find the eldest head in between your thighs once again, eyes filled with lust. You moan loudly as his tongue takes a long stripe from bottom up, but you are silenced by Jongho’s lips again on you.

                It didn’t matter that you were whimpering against his lips, it didn’t matter your whole body was shaking on top of Yeosang almost making it impossible for him to breathe – not that he cared at least. As your body started to fail you, Jongho’s arms wrapped around your waist holding you steady as Yeosang ravishes on your pussy, finger, tongue, and mouth taking their time as your mouth was way too preoccupied with Jongho’s own mouth. 

                You could feel the buildup on your lower stomach, your legs already unable to hold you away from Yeosang, barely able to keep kissing Jongho, which he quickly noticed, giving you a smirk before calling the oldest one in between your legs, who quickly left from underneath you, his face glistering with your juice as he stood behind you, his hard cock pressing against your ass as Jongho kept his gaze fixed on you, analyzing how much you still could take. 

                “How do you feel about marking hyung?”

                “I think the skin is rather blank, Jjong, should we really mark the little princess?”

                You tried your best to hide how the praising was getting to you, how they are talking about you as if you weren’t there was affecting you, but you couldn’t, you had no more strength in you to fight the neediness that took hold of you. 

                “I think even sluts have owners, property should be marked so no one else touches.”

                His hand on your neck pulled you in for another kiss as you felt Yeosang’s teeth sink into the skin of your shoulder, his hands cupping your breasts playing with the hardened nipples, making you moan against the kiss with Jongho. As your legs failed again to keep you steady, you felt Jongho put his left leg under you, your soaking cunt against the skin of his thigh in a way to keep you elevated so both men could take their time with you, and God they were taking their sweet time with you. 

                As an instinct, your hips started moving on their own against Jongho’s thigh, making him chuckle against your lips before taking one side of your neck as Yeosang took the other, both sinking their teeth on the burning skin, leaving a mark each. Jongho’s hand never leaves your hips, helping you move against his thigh as Yeosang kept playing with your breasts, cupping, pinching, squeezing it. You were seeing stars and they had barely started to properly touch you, yet you were long gone under their lustful gazes and touches. 

                Again, as you start to feel the buildup, the warmth spreading from your core, the trembling of your limbs, but they both stop, making you cry out loud already sensing a bit of the tears forming. 

                “Please teddy, let me cum, I’ve been good, please.”

                Jongho only coos at your words, fingers gently brushing the skin of your face, in contrast to the hands around your marked neck, you could also feel Yeosang still kissing every part of your back, hands playing tortuously with your breasts as you feel him dry humping your ass, low grunts being heard from time to time. 

                You were nothing but their fucktoy at that point and you couldn’t even complain.

                “You will sweetheart, I promise you that, but first I wanna make your filthiest dream come true and to have both of us, with you being at our mercy.”

                Instantly your hips started to move faster against your boyfriend's thigh, getting a chuckle from both of them, but you didn’t mind, you were desperate. 

                “Seems like someone is eager,” Yeosang baritone voice made you shiver and throw your head back, only to find his lips brushing closely to yours. A painful pinch on your nipple made you gasp before he silenced you with his lips. “You should start behaving if you want to cum, princess.”

                “That includes, stop moving your hips, sweetheart,” at that, Jongho’s fingers held your hips in place, digging into your skin, making you whimper as you could feel the crescent moons forming on your flesh. “That’s it, such a good girl, aren’t you?”

                “Yes, yes I am,” you whispered, barely capable of forming a coherent phrase as they sandwiched you, pressing their bodies against yours, taking everything you could give them and more. “I’m your good girl.”

                You heard both of them groan at your words before Yeosang’s body takes a distance from yours, but before you could say anything, Jongho took your waist pulling you close as his back fell on the mattress, before his hand pulled your leg up so you could straddle him properly, his hard cock in between your bodies. With a small exchange of looks, you swiftly took his cock and put it at your entrance, but didn’t sink down to it, you knew better than to do that.

                “Oh sweetheart, you think you are ready for what’s to come?” Jongho coos as his fingers draw small random circles on your skin, your legs barely capable of keeping you up from all the things both of them have done to you. “You think you are ready to take both of us?”

                “Yes, yes please,” you cry out a plea, noticing Yeosang missing for your view before feeling hands cup one of your breasts as another takes your throat making you look at Yeosang behind you, a small smirk before he pinches your nipple and slap your tit making you hiss, before feeling his cock against your back. “Please Sangie, I’ve been good, haven’t I? I’ve been good, right. my little raccoon?”

                Your doe eyes almost made him pull you in for a kiss, but that wasn’t the moment for that, he also didn’t even think Jongho would be okay with that happening, not when you were mere seconds of being impaled by the younger’s cock. 

                “You’ve been good, princess, but do you think you can take us both?”

                His hand left your breast finding its way between your ass, pulling the cheeks to play with your asshole, making you jolt as he pressed one finger in.

                “Have you done what I told you to do, sweetheart?”

                Jongho’s upper body quickly met yours, his hands firm on your shaking thigh, he was testing how much you could endure until sinking into his cock, just so he could punish you for doing something without his permission.

                “Yes, yes I have, I cleaned up real nice for you teddy bear.”

                “Oh sweetheart, that wasn’t for me,” you felt his left hand leave your thigh already anticipating what was gonna happen, “Yeosangie hyung is the one taking your ass, because just like I said prior, your cunt was made for me.”

                A harsh slap met your right ass cheek, and you whined in pain and pleasure, closing your eyes as Yeosang pulled your face higher, kissing your cheekbone before pushing another finger into your asshole, making you jolt before sinking in a little, feeling the tip of Jongho’s cock entering you in the slightest as another harsh slap was felt.

                “I’m sorry, I’m sorry Jjong, but my legs, please, I can’t, I-”

                “It’s okay sweetheart, you can sit down, we’ll take care of you, won’t we hyung?”

                “Always the best for the princess.”

                Although you wanted to give in completely, you knew Jongho wouldn’t like that, he has been taking his time with you, if you sink in completely on his cock, he’ll be upset, and yet, the stinging on your right ass cheek made you consider how much were you willing to not take the punishment.

                At least, Jongho’s hands were holding your legs, helping you to keep spreading them a little at a time, clenching every once in a while, mostly because on how Yeosang’s fingers were going in and out of your asshole, making you only imagine how it would feel once his dick was inside. As you sank down on Jongho’s length, both boys were saying the filthiest praises you could hear. 

                Fuck, princess, can’t even take my two fingers is this pretty little ass?

                Sweetheart, my cock isn’t too big for you, is it? Your cunt was made for it after all.

                You are so pretty like that, all fucked out, do you have any idea how beautiful you are?

                You are gonna take the both of us so well, aren’t you sweetheart, such a good girl.

                Our good girl.

                They were driving you insane and they were barely fucking you properly.

                “That’s it sweetheart, how are you feeling?”

                “Full,” you moan as one of Jongho’s thumb found your clit, making you gasp and arch your back. “So big Jjong, oh my -”

                “Ready to take hyung’s cock, sweetheart?”

                Without expecting a word, you heard the lube being opened again before feeling the tip pressing against your other hole as Jongho’s hands spread your ass cheeks, Yeosang’s were firmly on your waist, making you whine and moan at every centimeter he entered you. If you felt full before, now you were on a break point of losing your fucking mind.

                Nails digging into Jongho’s shoulder making him groan against your ear before slapping your already red ass cheek, making you clench around both of them, making Jongho repeat the act as Yeosang pulls your hair, fingertips going all the way down your spine until it reaches the point where his cock is buried in your ass. 

                “Princess, we need words.”

                “I need you to move, please.”

                “Now, that’s not how I taught you, sweetheart.”

                “Green, my color is green.”

                “That’s more like it,” Jongho kisses your temple before holding your thighs while Yeosang pulls you slightly up by the hair, leaving a bit of space between you and them. “Tell me if you ever feel empty, sweetheart, okay?”

                “Y-yes, teddy bear.”

                In a swift motion, both start to move in different rhythms but in such sync that you never felt fully empty nor fully full. As Jongho would be coming out, Yeosang was coming in and you thanked your boyfriend for having the idea of asking Yeosang all those weeks ago to fulfill your every need or else you wouldn’t be here in this fucking manwich of heavens.

                In all honesty, you were nothing more than an incoherent moaning mess. Your mouth open, screaming moans and curses leaving it every so often, your nails digging into Jongho’s flesh as you tried your best from time to time to escape the overstimulation they were creating within your body, they were fucking reorganizing your organs at this point.

                Whenever your body would start shaking, both would slow down their rhythm, whisper sweet nothing in your ear, Jongho would kiss your lips as Yeosang would leave open mouth kisses to your neck and back. You bit your lip trying to muffle your moans, but Yeosang took your neck as Jongho pushed his fingers to spread your lips open.

                “Don’t you fucking dare hold back your moans, do you hear me?”

                “Ye-yes, te-teddy be-bear,” you cried as both of their rhythms came back full force, your cervix was nonexistent at this point, you were numb, your legs and arms shaking like crazy, you clenched around them more than you relaxed. “Oh God, fu-”

                “Tell us how it feels, princess.”

                “Tell us how it feels to have both our cocks.”

                “So fucking good, Jjongie,” you cried another moan just as Yeosang yanks you back, making both hit you on a different spot, feeling the common build up in your lower stomach, “fuck, yes, don’t stop, please please please let me cum, please!”

                You screamed as both of them, once again slowed down their movements, you just wanted to cry at this point, so you did something you knew you would be punished for, but it didn’t matter, you need to cum, you need to-.

                “What the fuck you think you are doing?” Jongho’s hands pulled your wrist away from your clit, making you look at him with pleading needy eyes. Fuck, you couldn’t take it any longer. “Hyung, hold her hands back,” the grip on your hands were firm, making you whine and move a little, the friction of your clit against Jongho making you moan. “If you wanna cum so badly, we’ll make you cum.”

                “Thank you.”

                The chuckle that left Jongho’s mouth was enough for you to know you were fucked.

                It didn’t take half a second and they both started rammering their cocks in and out of you, while Yeosang held both your arms and hair – making you back arch, leaving your breasts and clit exposed for Jongho’s pleasure –, you boyfriend took his time, slapping your breasts, pinching your nipples, playing with your clit, it was all too much, too fucking much and you were loving every second. 

                “Cum sweetheart, cum for us, cum all over my cock.”

                Automatically your body responded to Jongho’s words, clenching one last time before you convulse in between them, crying and cursing out loud as they used you, kept fucking you through your high, which wasn’t even done yet and another one was building up. Yeosang let go of your hair, hands wrapping around your throat pulling you in for a sloppy kiss, as Jongho’s thrusts became more feral. 

                “One more time princess, cum for us once more, please.”

                At Yeosang’s words against your ear, you came once again, this time, feeling the older one’s thrusts become erratic before he fill your ass with his seeds, before pulling out, letting your body fall against Jongho, who quickly enveloped you around his arms, fucking you even harder before his hips suddenly stop and you feel his seed inside of you. 

                “How are you sweetheart?”

                A small kiss is felt on your temple as you feel Jongho lift you up, putting you on the mattress, the feeling of emptiness and numbness fill you up after what just happened. Your eyes scan the room, finding Yeosang returning from the bathroom with a towel, ready to clean you up, while Jongho takes his already used one to clean himself before joining your other side as Yeosang takes his time cleaning your legs and taking particular care with your sensitive areas.

                “I feel amazing Jjong, thank you,” you pull your boyfriend in for a kiss before looking at Yeosang who is taking extra attention to the task at hand, even though you know he already cleaned all he could out of you. “Sangie?” His eyes pick up as you call his name. “C’mere, please?”

                You try not to roll your eyes as you saw Yeosang direct his attention to Jongho, who chuckles nodding as his fingers trace random patterns on your heated skin. In a swift move, Yeosang is now on your other side, pulling the loose hairs away from your face, making you giggle before taking his hand in yours.

                “Hope we weren’t too harsh with you, princess.”

                “Never,” you say genuinely, although your body would certainly complain a little more once it starts to cool down, but you didn’t care. “I know you two could never really hurt me, thank you for everything, my boys.”

                You kiss each of them on the lips one last time before looking at the bathroom door of Yeosang’s room, making both boys chuckle. 

                “I’ll get the bath ready; you make sure she doesn’t sleep before that bath or we will never hear the end of it!”

                Jongho got out of the bed shaking his head as Yeosang pulled you close to a hug, your leg quickly flying over his, tangling with each other, hand intertwined on top of his chest. 

                “And to think this all started because of a fucking proxy kiss Jjong gave you,” both laughed at the memory, as you turned to face him, making him curious. “I don’t regret it Sangie, and I talked to Jjong, he knows you like me,” he closed his eyes cursing at himself, “he also knows I like you,” his eyes shot up at your response, a small smile appearing in your lips. “I like you Sangie, but I also love Jongho, and he loves me, this needs to be clear.”

                “I’d never ask for you to choose between us, if that’s what you are going for.”

                Your laugh made a smile form on his lips, before you pulled him in for a chaste kiss.

                “I was actually thinking of proposing something, like, maybe sharing?”

                “Enough talk, you need to shower, we talk about that tomorrow,” Jongho quickly entered the room, taking your arms around his neck as he took your legs on his arm before turning to Yeosang, both of you eyeing the oldest. “I believe she said enough for you to think it through, hyung, we’ll talk tomorrow after a good night of sleep.”

general masterlist here ♡

here's the link for the permanent taglist ♡ !

network: @cultofdionysusnet ♡ @atzhouse ♡

©skteezcursed (2024) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[fandomlit]

reunited (sirius black x reader)

summary after a year free from azkaban, sirius is dying to leave number twelve grimmauld place. but after a year of also craving to see you, one of his wishes is met.

warnings mentions of loneliness and depression

a/n if you couldn't tell i'm on a harry potter kick rn (requests please!!!)

gif cred belongs to @peaceseller

sirius was losing his mind sitting around headquarters. with little to do other than to stare at his family's old possessions and vanquish bitter creatures (and kreatcher), he was beginning to harbor a feeling similar to his time in azkaban--not nearly as hopeless, but just as desperately bored.

he heard the door open from the armchair he had been lounging in and a voice gasp, "professor l/n!" before the screeches of his mother filled the hall. he jumped to his feet--not due to the screams, he was truly becoming used to that--but at the sound of your name.

someone managed to close the curtains around his mother's portrait as he practically ran down the stairs. the last time he had glimpsed you had been too brief, not even being able to show you that he was there in his disguised animagus form. when dumbledore told him he had recruited you, sirius was less than surprised, but desperate for the day you would finally drop by headquarters. when after fourteen long years, he would get to speak to you. and, as he reached the last step, you were finally here.

"old bat never liked me," you were chuckling, shaking your head at harry, ron, and hermione as you faced the drawn curtains. "screamed very similar to that in person, as well." ron spoke something to you just as your gaze landed on sirius, who was still clutching the banister with his mouth slightly agape.

you were just as beautiful as the day he last saw you. your face was more mature than he had last seen and you were an inch or two taller, but you still had that bright glint in your eyes, like you were always on the verge of a joke, and a confidence in your stance that no one he had ever met managed to compare to.

he was muttering your name before he even realized it. he was acutely aware of the trio flipping their gazes between the two of you.

you smiled fondly at him. "sirius black, you finally grew out your hair!"

he couldn't help the grin that spread across his face as he opened his arms, walking toward you quicker than he would have cared for you to acknowledge. luckily, you met him halfway and let his arms squeeze you tightly to him. he let out an unconscious laugh.

"holy merlin, i never thought i'd ever touch you again," he confessed before realizing how odd it sounded. but you only responded with a laugh of your own.

"me neither," you confessed, drawing black slightly to see his grinning face. "but lord am i glad you're not the murderer the world was tricked to think." his smile dimmed in the slightest, but even those difficult thoughts couldn't weigh his heart down. you were actually here. "how's the old house treating you?"

he raised his eyebrows at you. "really? just going to keep bringing up the worst things of my day-to-day?"

you let out a laugh that he couldn't help but grin at. "i'm sorry, i am." you smiled fondly again as you two drew completely apart, but sirius kept your hand clamped in his and you squeezed it to show you didn't mind it. you shook your head at him. "godric, you look good! for a convict and blood traitor, you look like a dream, sirius!"

he let out a loud laugh this time, glimpsing the trio all trading glances behind you two. "you should see yourself! hogwarts has been kind to you, my dear." you let out a surprised sound at the old nickname. "you haven't changed an ounce, y/n. you're the same woman i dreamed of on my worst nights."

he took pride in the pink that crept up your neck. "you're a slightly aged version of the man i couldn't keep out of my dreams," you admitted. sirius smiled. "no matter what they said about you sirius.. my mind could never let you go."

he pressed your locked hands to his heart, soft gaze holding yours in what he hoped didn't look at all like the desperation he felt. "now it never has to." you pulled him into a wordless hug before he slipped his arm around your shoulders and lead you toward the kitchen.

sirius knew that later, away from the eyes of the curious teenagers of the house, you two would share a heavy hearted moment. one where he wouldn't be able to deny himself the exhaustion of his hardships in your presence, which has always been able to get past his tough, playful facade. but for now, the way you smiled and joked and radiated in his presence gripped his heart in a way that wasn't at all like he had felt in years.

[kazbrekkerscrutches]

Spencer Reid - We Shouldn't Be Doing This

Warnings: smut themes but no actual smut, fed!spencer x enemyfed!reader, enemies to something (let u pick babes), insults, angst, one-bed trope (ur welcome)

This is Spencer in the more recent seasons, but you can picture him in your preferred season.

Word count: 1.6k

Summary: Y/N and Spencer have never liked each other. They are always competing over who's the smartest, who's the most handy with a gun. Yet, when they're sent on a mission and they end up in a motel room with one bed, things get interesting.

A/N: Yall are gonna love this. This is inspired by this. Thank you for that. The girlies are gonna love this one! Thanks for reading <3. Let me know ur feedback! @hereforhalstead thank u for the idea.

I had started working at the BAU for a couple of years. I got along fine with the girls, JJ and Emily. Garcia was my girl, hyping me up and helping me with anything. Most of the boys were fine too, Morgan made me laugh until I couldn’t breathe, Hotch was like a big brother to me and Rossi was a father figure to me. But there is one guy that was very insufferable and the only person in the BAU that I could not stand. Dr Spencer Reid. 

Don’t get me wrong, he’s a very attractive man. Yet he is the most infuriating person I have ever met. 

He didn’t seem to like me too, when I joined the BAU. He looked at me with dark eyes. His hair was always messy, his snarky attitude made me want to kill him sometimes. 

After joining the FBI for about six months, Spencer and I were competing against each other all the time. It didn’t matter if the subject was mentioned, we were already arguing on who was the smartest. He kept making the remarks about his IQ, his eclectic memory and the fact that he could read 20 000 words per minute. 

It didn’t matter what I told him, he kept laying it on thick. He kept trying to prove to the entire world that no one could be smarter than him.

One day, Hotch and Rossi had enough of us screaming and arguing all the time. They sent us on a light care in New Jersey, about a girl who escaped a convicted killer. 

This is just fucking perfect. Now I’m stuck with the encyclopedia. I tell myself. I bet he wasn’t happy too, just by the look on his face. He looked like he was boiling on the inside. His face was red, his hair looking worse than usual and streams practically coming out of his ears. 

We got into a car, driving us to the airport. Total silence filled the car, neither of us daring to start an argument. We got out of the car after a while, heading into the jet and off to New Jersey.

It took about two hours to get there. My headphones were placed on my ears, reading the file of the young woman who escaped. I could see Spencer playing with a coin, not really doing anything. 

When the jet landed, we got into another car. We arrived late at night, meaning the interview with the girl would have to be in the morning. 

The car dropped us to a motel, where Hotch and Rossi had reserved a room for us. The lady in the front desk gave me the keys, both of us walking towards our room in silence. I could feel his stare burning the side of my head. 

As I opened the room, I was the first to see that the room was missing something. 

There’s only one bed.

I swore under my breath. Spencer saw it next, shutting the door behind me. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I heard him say. 

Rossi had planned this, he had to. He planned for us to get away, fix our issues and get back to Quantico like nothing was wrong between us. 

I dropped my bag on the chair beside the window. “This is just wonderful.” I mumbled sarcastically. 

I earned one of Spencer’s glares. “What? You think I want this more than you do?” I look at him, not amused by Rossi’s ruse. 

He drops his bags, taking off his coat and suit jacket. “I would’ve preferred to sleep on the concrete than to share a bed with you. I bet it would be much more comfortable.” 

I scoffed, taking off my coat and dropping it on the chair. “Right in with the fire, mh? You like that, to get me fired up and all ready to insult you. What’s your fucking problem?” I speak with a harsher tone, anger clearly lacing my throat. 

“What’s my problem? You’re an arrogant idiot who barged into the BAU like it was your living room! You’re intolerable, Y/N! You know that?” He practically spit in my face.

“Oh, so now I’m the problem. Please, Dr Reid, tell me all of the remarks you have against me.” I say, stepping closer to him, looking up at his stern face. His breathing has gotten faster, his hands in fists by his side. 

“You’re ignorant, selfish. You only care about yourself and that small head of yours. You try to make yourself smarter than everyone else! Just because you went to fucking Stanford doesn’t mean your Einstein.” He started walking closer to me, anger radiating off of him. 

“What else? Hm?” I whisper, my voice stern and angry. I didn’t care what he thought of me. His opinion was the last thing I cared about. 

“You’re a spoiled little girl who got everything she wanted in her whole life. You got the job, the looks, the money. Everything. You didn’t work a single day in your life to earn all of that.” He grabbed onto my forearms, clenching his fists entirely against my wrists. He had pushed them behind my back, pinning me to the wall behind them. His voice got quieter, still angry and venomous. 

“Fuck you, Reid.” I whisper in his face, my face clearly affected by his words. My breathing has quickened too, my pulse fast and hard in my chest. My cheeks were flushed, the heat of his chest radiating off of me. “You’re telling me this for what, hm? To get me to hate you? Because, trust me, I already do. You’re a selfish prick, who only cares about how smart you are compared to the world. No wonder you can’t get anyone to stay with you.” I tell him angrily, his hands twisting around my forearms, untwisting them from my back and pulling them flush against his chest.

His blood was practically boiling. I could feel his hot breath on my face, his eyes burning with fury. “You better shut up before I make you shut up, Y/N.” He whispered roughly. 

I raised my eyebrow, testing his patience. “Or what? You’ll have me arrested? You can’t do that.” I whisper, close to his face. I don’t think he could’ve gotten more mad than he already was but boy I was wrong. 

He slammed his lips against mine, releasing my wrists to grab my face roughly. His hands claimed dominance on my jaw, sliding into my hair and pulling it. His mouth was engulfing mine, his tongue deep in my mouth. I melted into his touch, his rough hold on me making me release the madness against him. His lips left my lips, melting down to my neck. He left heated kisses, making my head lean back on the wall. His teeth grazed my neck, nibbling it and licking it with his wicked tongue. 

My hands clinged on his chest, the hardness of it under my fingers. His chest flexed under my harsh touch, my hands going all the way to his back and his slutty waist I had been eyeing for months. His breath was hot and sweaty on my neck, suddenly taking a bite into my neck, making me whimper softly. 

His lips left my neck, lifting his head to speak directly on my lips. “I hate you so much that it makes me love you.” He whispered on my lips, kissing me harshly with his hands around my jaw. 

He pulled me off the wall, his hands roaming down to my thighs and lifting them up to his waist. My hands went in his hair, his sharp jaw and all of the hot skin I could touch. 

He sat down on the bed, taking me on his lap. His hands were all over me, on my waist down to my hips and ass. He groped anything he could find. My lips went on his neck, tilting his head to give me better access. I found his sweet spot, making him cry out, moaning into my shoulder. He whispered in my ear, “We shouldn’t be doing this, Y/N.” His voice was rough and needy at the same time. 

“Everything about you tells me otherwise, Spencer.” I whisper roughly, kissing back up to his jaw, my hips set over his. He pulled my hips flush on his, a gasp leaving my mouth.

“Fuck it.” He mumbled under his breath, switching positions to set me under him, his tie falling on my chest. Both of us were hot and sweaty, our breaths labored and heart pounding. His hips were set harshly on mine, feeling every single inch of him. 

I grabbed his tie, pulling him closer to my face. “You’re not lying?” I whispered, my eyes fiery but not angered. He knotted his eyebrows slightly. “About what?” He mumbled softer than usual.

“About loving me? Because I would be a liar if I said I didn’t feel the same way.” I spoke softly, one hand tugging his tie and the other touching his jaw. 

“I’m not lying.” He whispered, a glimpse of surprise in his eyes. His gaze softened a little, both of his arms around my head.

“Good.” I whisper, my lips grazing his swollen lips. “Because there’s not going back to before after this.” I whispered, kissing him roughly. My hands on his jaw, feeling the power of it while he kissed me with exploding passion for the rest of night and for the following years. 

[lycheedr3ams]

a broken man

konig x fem!reader (established relationship) warnings: low self-worth, mentions of war crimes, angst, mentions of smut, comfort, canon-typical violence mentioned

konig would never admit it, but the hardest part of your relationship for him was when you two made love.

you were the opposite of everything he had ever known. you weren't steel or kevlar or bullets or bombs or knives or war paint, you weren't screams in his ear telling him to just kill, nor were you the dead weight in his hands as his dead comrades' bodies were. you weren't the ringing in his ears after alarms went off, you weren't the blood that splattered his clothes, you weren't the empty darkness of his room as he lie awake each night, dreading what he'd see when he'd close his eyes. you weren't the scars on his chest or the bullet wounds in his back. you weren't the words that tore him down and made him look behind his shoulder whenever others were whispering.

instead, you were light. you were the warmth that welcomed him each day, the softness that invited him into yourself. you were the blanket wrapped around him, the warm hugs, the tender kisses. you were the one to bandage his wounds, the one to kiss them away. you were the soft hands that caressed his back, the gentle voice that wished him good morning, the soft hand that wrapped around his own calloused one. you were the one who smiled at him, laughed with him, loved him. you were the sweet words in his ear, playful love bites, a warm meal in somewhere he finally called home. your eyes were the ones that reflected love and comfort, not disdain or fear like everyone else he had known. you were the thing that kept his heart beating. no, even more than that, you were the one who gave his heart life again, long after he ever thought he could feel it beat again.

and that is all the reason why making love was so hard for him. after all the pain, loss, bloodshed, suffering, and nightmares he'd caused, the absolute last thing he thought he deserved was your warm, soft body letting him consume every part of you. your sweet moans in his ear contrasted so much the bloodcurdling screams he heard far more often, the weight he felt in his hands was your breasts and not bodies he dragged back to camp. your wetness guided and invited him in, so different from the wetness he felt in his eyes far too often when he was alone.

he knew he didn't deserve you. how could a broken man like him, one who escaped war criminal conviction for things he didn't want to do, deserve the only angel on earth? the same hands that gripped knives and guns and bombs also caressed the skin of a seraph, his bloodstained hands tainting the most pure, divine thing in existence. some days, konig swore he could see marks from his bloodstained hands on you. the same mouth that screamed and yelled and barked orders was the one that cooed into your ear how beautiful you were, how good you were for him, how he loved you. the same back that had been covered in body armor was the one naked to you, the same skin that he welcomed to be clawed by the least ferocious thing on earth.

konig never imagined how such a broken man like him could ever end up with you, the opposite of everything he had ever known. a broken man did not deserve a woman like you. but there you were underneath of him, moaning and pulling him in and begging for more. a broken man didn't deserve you, but you loved him anyway.

taglist: @osteawb, @sleepystaarr, @vvampir3s, @simpxinnie, @majocookie, @sharkyyyyyyyyyyyy, @marysdelrey, @kybeth5, @chaos-on-stand-bi, @shannonswizzies, @arcadia509, @bloodstoneruby, @cumikering, @skystreamchan, @junkratssheila-09, @kit-williams, @tangerynsbaby, @dreamdiaries777, @royalbxstxrd, @non-satanic-panic, @theweirdchick, @kiyomisan, @maylif, @mortimoshi, @eneiss, @daughter-ofthe-forest, @celi-xxmoon

[margotw10bis]

Crashing On Crush.JJK [m] 9

crush!Jungkook x reader

Genre: smut; series; romance; angst

Words: 5k

Synopsis: What happens when your first encounter with your crush is Jungkook seeing your ass?

Warnings: pure angst; drugs (please, if you have addiction problems get some help, you are strong enough 🤍); fingering; praising kink; oral sex (m. receiving)

previous ← 9 → next

Jungkook met Mina when they were twelve, in middle school. It didn't take long for them to become best friends, enjoying spending their after-school time at the bookshop, reading mangas. At first, it was just friendship, the best kind of friendship actually. Back then, everything was simply perfect. But things changed in high school.

Jungkook knew that things at home weren't great for Mina: her dad just lost his job and started drinking alcohol pretty much everyday. That's why Mina used to go to Jungkook's after class, avoiding as much as she could her own home where she didn't feel safe.

However, gradually, Mina spent less time at Jungkook's. She even spent less time with Jungkook, period. Jungkook, on the other hand, noticed some changes in Mina: she was less cheerful, she lost weight and she was less happy. It was like she didn't feel anything at all. She also didn't go to class anymore. The truth is that Jungkook felt like he was loosing her and that terrified him. So he started hanging with the same people as Mina, not good people.

One day, Jungkook witnessed Mina inhaling a strange white powder. He screamed at her, telling her that she was crazy. Mina would have cried if she wasn't amorphous but that's exactly what she wanted: not to feel the pain, not to feel anything. She told her bestfriend that all the darkness around her was too much to bare so what's wrong to not suffer for a few hours? Jungkook did try to reason her out but she didn't listen. She ended up telling: 'rather you're with me, rather you leave me but you can't stay in the middle'.

Jungkook didn't think much. He actually loved Mina and he knew she loved him too. So he started using. How could this white powder be such a big deal? At first, ketamine was good. Really good actually. Jungkook felt like everything around him was far away and he could just stay there, in peace. But then, he begun to feel bad if he wasn't using. He wasn't taking K for Mina anymore, but for himself.

He was seventeen, he was too young to depend on some thing, on some drug to live. He knew it was illegal, especially in South Korea where drug using is severely reprimanded. But he kept it safe in his room, not too much, just for him. Well, not exactly... Mina was so afraid that her parents could discover that she was using that she asked Jungkook to keep her dose in his room. And she was using way more than him. The amount of special K in Jungkook's sockets drawer couldn't be for personal using.

He doesn't know who reported him but one day, after class, he ran to his room in a desperate need to inhale ketamine to finally feel good. He didn't expect to see three police officers in his bedroom. When they asked him questions, he lied and said it was only his. He lied to protect Mina, and she didn't tell the truth, too afraid of the consequences for herself. She let him take the blame for the both of them even when she knew that if she had said the truth, Jungkook wouldn't had this much trouble. Nonetheless, Jungkook doesn't hold a grudge against Mina: he was the one who made the call to lie.

With the amount of drug in his room, the judge didn't believe it was only for personal using and thought that Jungkook was dealing. But, as a minor, he decided to give him a chance to take change of his life. So the judge convicted Jungkook: he had to spend three years - until his majority - in a juvenile detention facility.

It was more like a mandatory military service but with violent teenagers. But there was also an addiction treatment center. It was so hard to get clean while he didn't have anyone he loved around him. Mina was afraid of her parent's reaction if she visited him. And Jungkook's parents... Well, he doesn't really remember what happened because one of the main effects of ketamine is memory loss. So he doesn't know if he told them to back off or if they didn't want to see him anymore but the result was the same: he was alone, and scared.

He was seventeen and he felt like his whole life was over. He was suffering from the deprivation of drug - it was so fucking painful that he felt like dying - and he was damn aware of how people were looking at him: with disgust. Everyone was judging him, even the persons who were supposed to help him. He was so angry at everyone but even more at himself. He has been so fucking stupid to start using because now it was so hard to stop. He hold on on the thought that he did it for Mina, because he loved her.

But was it enough? Loving Mina didn't give him anything when he finally stepped out the facility three fucking years later. He had no diploma, no job, no money, no one. Even if he was out of the center, he was not free. People was still despising him every time he applied to a job and 'juvenile detention facility' was clearly written on his resume. It didn't really help that he had his first tattoos on his arm. He wasn't free because he still had to account to his probation officer.

Before his first meeting with his PO, he was angry, already expecting another person treating him like shit. However, Seokjin was nothing like that. Jungkook was surprised to meet a guy not so much older than him. The first thing Seokjin asked him was 'Tell me about you'. Jungkook sighed and started telling his drug and prison story for the thousandth time like he was expected to. But Seokjin cut him off and said 'Not that, tell me about you. As a person'. Jungkook was so taken aback to be finally treated as a human being after all these years that he cried in front of his PO for hours.

After that, Seokjin became like a big brother to him. He helped him so much with his addiction and pretty much everything. Seokjin had to supervise Jungkook for two years and he knew that Jungkook was ready to do things right. That's why he didn't hesitate to tell him 'Start over. In a new city, where nobody knows you. Be the man you want to be. Be confident and for God's sake, be happy'.

The next day, Jungkook packed the few things he owned and went straight to Seoul. He became a graphic designer as the only skill he had honed in prison was drawing. He met some friends, including Taehyung and he did start over, willing to do things right this time. Not once he was attracted to do drugs, even if some days were harder than others. He wasn't really happy but he was living without too much pain, until he met you.

————

You cry in Jungkook's chest while he is telling you about his past. Jungkook doesn't cry, and he is surprised about that. Maybe he's already cried too much about his past or maybe he doesn't want to pain you more with his own tears. You stay silent for a few minutes, no words comforting enough coming to your mind. So you just head up and kiss him. Your tears drop on Jungkook's cheeks and he holds you tight.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Jungkook" You sob

"Please don't cry. I hate to see you cry" He says gently

Why does he confort you when he is the broken one? He is such a good person, he doesn't deserve any of what happened to him. And that makes you want to cry harder.

You are kissing Jungkook as if your lips were ointment on his wounds. Your hands on his shoulder and hair, his hands cupping your cheeks, there is no space between your two bodies. The darkness around you is oddly a protection from the outside world. You create your own place where is no past, no future and no pain. Just the two of you. You feel the urge to make sure he knows that he is not defined by his past.

"You're a good person, Jungkook"

"Thanks" He replies, awkward since he is not used to be praised like that

"Listen to me, you are a good person"

"Thank you" He says again but not really believing it, not with what he has done

"You are a good person. And I'm going to repeat it until you truly believe it. You are a good person"

You look at him in the dark. You can't see his face but you can hear faint sobbing. You kiss him again and Jungkook can't understand how you can think he is a good man after everything he's told you. But you do. Jungkook's past is rough but it shows one thing: he is truly a good person because, after everything he's been through, he is still kind and loving and he is still willing to do things right while it would be way easier for him to just give up and start using again.

Through his kisses, Jungkook is making a promise to you and to him. As long as you are willing to have him by your side, he'll cherish you and protect you. He'll do anything you want because if you think he's a good man, Jungkook believes you are a true angel, the best thing that ever happened to him. Maybe he is a little selfish to hold on on you but he doesn't care since he fucking loves you.

You fall in love with him all over again while you both fall asleep, holding each other tight.

————

Waking up in Jungkook's arms is the most delightful thing that can happen in the morning. You move your head up carefully and see him sleeping. He is so damn cute like that. Most of the time Jungkook is ridiculously hot and empowering. But right now, in the arms of Morpheus, he looks like a little boy. Somewhat, it warms your heart because he doesn't seem to suffer anymore.

You move slowly and cautiously, and step out of the bedroom. You hear some noise in the kitchen and find Seokjin already making breakfast.

"Do you need help?" You ask him

He turns around and discovers a still sleepy expression on your face.

"I'm almost done. Coffee?"

You nod, grateful for the cup full of the dark brown salutary beverage. You take a sip and moan in pleasure. You definitely needed it. You feel like you were knocked out by all the deep and intense emotions of Jungkook's past and that it'll take a few days to lighten the weight of it.

"I wanted to talk to you" Seokjin tells you gently and you give him an attentive look "Jungkook's addiction is a life-time fight. He'll never stop struggling with it. He is a good boy but everything he is dealing with can be... overwhelming. So, if you think you can't manage it, tell him now. The more you wait, the harder it'll be for him to deal with it alone again"

You stay silent for a moment. You don't really know what to say. You know that Seokjin just wants to protect Jungkook and he knows way more about addiction than you. The least thing you want is to hurt Jungkook. So you take the time to think about what Seokjin has said.

"I don't want him to be alone" You eventually decide to respond and Seokjin gives you a genuine smile

You don't have time to talk more because Jungkook, with messy hair, steps in, rubbing his eyes.

"Good morning everyone" He mumbles, still half-asleep and a tender smile forms on your face

He pecks the top of your hair before sitting down next to you. Why does it feel so natural? So good? But you do blush a little when you remember that you're not alone and that Seokjin has witnessed everything.

Jungkook sips on his coffee that Jin has just served him and opens his mouth:

"Hyung, could you check my place?"

"Sure, but it'll be in two or three days, I have some appointments"

"Thanks"

You look at Jungkook with a questioning face.

"Mina might had hidden some K and I'm not sure how I'd react if I find some. I rather not risk it"

You gently rub his back to erase the sad tone you heard in his voice.

————

Not so long after breakfast, Jungkook and you took the car to go back to Seoul, Jungkook behind the wheel this time. Your heart beats fast and your cheeks blushed when he grabbed your hand. Fortunately, the drive was way lighter than the day before. You also proposed to Jungkook to stay a few days at your place, saying it was a nonsense for him to pay a hotel while waiting for Seokjin to check his apartment and make sure everything is safe. You made a quick stop at Jungkook's and you stayed close to him while he took some cloths in a bag, being aware of a potential discovery of drug that could affect him.

That's how you end up like this. You both took a welcoming shower and changed into loungewear clothes. Jungkook is damn hot in his black sweat shorts and big t-shirt. You also chose an oversize - pink - top and some pj mini shorts in the same color. The truth is that you're hot, and not only because of the Korean summer. You can't deny that Jungkook's presence makes you way more sensitive to everything around you. However, you act like nothing's going on and you both sit on the couch, watching TV. You don't really pay attention to the screen, especially when Jungkook, almost laying, pulled you closer so your back is leaning on his buff chest and your whole body is surrounded by his.

You suddenly feel Jungkook hot breathe on your neck. Shivers travel all over your body. He doesn't wait too long before kissing your skin. Why are you so responsive to his touch? You immediately feel your pussy getting wet, and it doesn't help that his hands begin to explore your body. You feel him everywhere: your chest, your stomach, your bare thighs. A soft moan escapes your lips when his left arm disappears underneath your shirt. Jungkook caresses your boob and pinches your hardening nipple. His touch is so fucking good. You missed it so much. The stimulation of this sensitive part of your body makes your pussy clench.

In a desperate need of friction, you arch your back, throw your head back into his large shoulder - giving him more space to bite your neck - and press your thighs together. Jungkook smirks when he notices how needy you become. You look so hot when you're horny. And he is willing to push your arousal further.

His tattooed hand travels down to the hem of your shots. Skillfully, his fingers find their way under the fabric. You moan louder when you feel his touch on your wetness. The sight of his inked strong arm into your little pink shorts is hot. It's definitely a sin but you're ready to go to Hell just to see it for a second longer.

"No panties, uh?" Jungkook teases you with his raspy voice and it makes you fucking weak, but Jungkook's discovery also rushes blood directly into his cock

Your throat dries but your pussy dampens. You have no doubt at this point that your pj is completely ruined - not that you care anyway. Jungkook uses his delicate digits to circle your clit. You feel like in heaven. You whine like you haven't been touched for years. You are so desperate in his arms and Jungkook loves it. He keeps kissing your neck, fighting the urge to mark you. His left hand squeezes your nipple harder, making it deliciously painful. At this point, your pussy is dripping and doesn't stop clenching around nothing. Jungkook knows it and to be honest, he really wants to enter you with his fingers but he waits for you to say the little word his dominant side loves so much. He is ready to tease you for hours and to push you on the edge for that.

When a weak 'please' comes from your open mouth in a moan, he immediately places his hand lower, feeling all your wetness.

"You are so fucking wet" He says in some proud voice while pushing a finger in your pussy

It's so good that you clench around it. Jungkook's pace is a torture, purposely slow with his thumb rolling on your sensitive clit. Being behind you allows him to perfectly control his movements, just like you would if you were touching yourself - except that Jungkook's expertise provides you way more pleasure.

Your hands come up to grab his black and long hair that tickle your throat's thin skin and the back of his neck. You turn your head as much as you can to kiss him. The hand that used to attack your breasts cups your jaw to kiss you deeper. Your moans are directly swallowed by Jungkook's mouth. He loves hearing you so much, his hard cock is painful in his pants.

Jungkook enters you with another finger and speeds up the pace. You don't even know how is it possible but you get wetter. Your whole pussy is a huge pool of arousal. You're not embarrassed at all because you know that Jungkook loves it. You feel hot under his touch, you feel sexy.

You feel your orgasm building up slowly, your pussy clenching and relaxing around his digits. You are short on breathe but it feels so fucking good.

"Oh my god, Jungkook" You moan against his perfect swollen lips

"Cum on my fingers like a good girl" He whispers in such a seductive tone that you feel like fainting

His words drive you crazy and he finger-bangs you harder. You definitely feel on the edge of your orgasm and you pull on his hair, making him groan. He presses his thumb deeper on your abused clit and it's the end for you. You reach your climax in a loud moan while a huge wave of delightful pleasure makes your legs shake. But Jungkook doesn't stop and continues to slide his fingers in your oversensitive cunt at a slow pace but definitely makes you shiver. Your legs close up in reflex and your body spams. Your eyes close and your features torn in an almost painful pleasure. Seeing you like this drives Jungkook crazy. Knowing that you are this shaken up by his touch boosts his ego and possessiveness.

"Come on, babe, give me one more" He murmurs in your ear

He doesn't really know why he wants to push you further. Obviously, he wants to give you more pleasure but there is something else. Maybe he wants to erase the night you spent with another man, make sure that you feel more pleased by him than by the other guy. His competitive side added to his possessiveness makes him hungry for a second orgasm from you.

"I can't" You tell him in a breathe, your brain in the fog of pleasure

"I know you can"

You don't really know what kind of spell he put on you but you nod, giving him the approval to play with your cunt again. And he does. He pulls off of your pussy just to smear your arousal over your whole groin. It's so dirty to feel your juices messily recovering your skin but this is fucking hot. You never felt so naughty and yet so horny.

"Are so you wet for me?" His possessive side is dying to hear you tell him that

Jungkook wants to give you so much pleasure that you won't ever find another man attractive. He also knows that it's not only his dominant and possessive part but also the part that cares about you. Is it weird to say he wants to ruin you to keep you in his arms? He doesn't really have time to think about it because you open your mouth to speak up:

"Only for you"

Your words make Jungkook's cock twitch in his pants and he groans in satisfaction. 'Good fucking girl' He thinks and he enters you again with two fingers. You jolt in his arms but Jungkook keeps you in place with left forearm. Your mind is above clouds. The pleasure provided by the overstimulation after your orgasm is beyond words. It's painful and delightful at the same time. You can't even recall your name. The only thing you can say is Jungkook's name with a choked voice. You're a fucking mess.

"Cum again for me, babe'"Jungkook urges you while kissing your neck

The pet name and his fingers in your swollen and sensitive pussy are dangerous for your sanity. It doesn't take long for you to cum around his digits in a muted groan. Jungkook doesn't push you further when he notices how you're shaking in his arms due to the two orgasms he provided you. He hugs you tight and kisses your hair.

You feel exhausted after the two tsunamis of pleasure that rushed over you. Your whole body is flabby but your mind is in a euphoric phase that makes you laugh. It's like a shot of dopamine. After being this harsh with your body, Jungkook is now very gentle, caressing your arms and your stomach and kissing everywhere he can: the top of your head, your cheek, your neck, your shoulder.

"I think you should take a shower" He tells you softly, motioning to your messy intimate area.

You blush hard when you realize that you look really dirty - in all kind of ways. You nod shyly and bit your lower lip. You definitely feel unpleasant by your drying juices between your legs but you feel too good in Jungkook's arms to leave them.

"Do you want to come with me?" You ask, your cheeks reddening

"How could I say no?"

Jungkook's smile is perfect. His bunny teeth and scrunching nose are the definition of happiness. Right now, you are so close to say the 'L' word. To stop thinking about it, you stand up and walk to the bathroom, Jungkook right behind you. It's only when you have taken off your cloths and you've already entered the shower that you notice Jungkook's hard cock. The sight of his big and thick length shakes your pussy. Your instinct controls your movements and your hand wraps around him.

The soft skin under your fingertips makes you almost moan. Jungkook closes his eyes in delight while you start pumping him. Your mouth waters and you purse your lips, creating some kind of cringe face. Jungkook frowns when he sees your face.

"Is something wrong?" He asks with a worried voice, wondering if you are forcing yourself to touch him

"No, it's just that..." You wince while you are looking for the right words, embarrassed "I wonder how you taste"

Jungkook's releases a reassured sigh.

"Take my cock in your mouth if you wanna know" He says, playfully but that doesn't make you laugh

"I'm not really good at it" You whisper, kind of ashamed

Jungkook's steps closer to you and cups your face in his big hands, forcing you to look at him. The hot water coming from the shower makes your skins glistening and blankets you in a steam cloud. It's like a protective shield around your two body.

"I will never force you to do something you don't want to do. But if you don't want to do it just because you are afraid of not being good enough, I can guide you. I won't judge you. Whatever you decide, I'm okay with it" Jungkook's voice is so soft that your heart is melting

He pecks your nose delicately and somewhat, feeling how much he cares about you gives to some courage.

"I'd like you to guide me then" You say in a murmur

Jungkook nods and helps you get on your knees. You can't deny being a little intimidating by his size right in front of your face. The red on your cheeks is clearly noticeable. However, as Jungkook is witnessing you kneeled, he gets really horny. He couldn't be in a more dominant position while he is standing up and you're on your knees, ready to suck his boner. You look so fucking innocent while his big cock is inches away from your pretty mouth. God, what he'd do to this mouth... The simple thought makes his dick twitch. Why does he like so much the idea of teaching you how to suck his cock?

"You can start by kissing it" He says with a raspy voice

You do as he says, softly kissing the tip. A drop of pre-cum stains your swollen lips and Jungkook has to bit his lower lips to prevent his moan. You're so hot right now that he is a second to cum. You don't seem to be aware of his inner state and you start pumping him slowly at the base while you kiss him more.

At some point, driven by your own horniness, you take a fat lick from the base of his cock to the tip. Jungkook moans loudly, giving you more confidence to continue. Your tongue caresses his length everywhere without taking him into your mouth. The stains of saliva make his dick so pretty. You can't wait any longer and open your mouth wide to take the tip.

More precum settles on your tongue. The salty taste makes you moan, sending vibrations in Jungkook's length. You slowly take him more, careful that you don't hurt him with your teeth - and it's not really easily owing to his size.

"You're doing good, babe. Open your pretty mouth wide for me"

Jungkook's voice is shaken because of the pleasure. You look up at him and meet his perfect face with delight painted on it. Jungkook almost looses it when he sees you looking at him. Your eyes are so innocent while you have his cock in your mouth. The duality of the scene is a sin. A moaned 'fuck' escapes his pierced lips.

You take him deeper and deeper, almost feeling his cock in your throat. Your hand slides on what you can't take into your mouth. Your tongue wiggles around his tip and insists on the sensitive spot connecting the tip to his length. Jungkook's groans grow deeper and he slightly moves his hips. He doesn't want to push too much but the pleasure you provide him is too unbearable to stay steady.

Seeing that he likes it, you grow bolder and push your head further, almost taking his entire dick in your throat.

"Fuck, babe!" He moans "Your mouth feels so fucking good"

You pull off to breathe and take him again, your nose touching is pubis. You gag on his cock and Jungkook swears he's in heaven. He feels your tight throat contracting around his dick while you chocked in it and it's so fucking hot. The bathroom is fulled of Jungkook's pleased groans and choking sounds from your part - music to his ears if he is being honest. This is so shameless and hot, making your pussy so wet that you don't know if it's from your arousal or the shower. It doesn't help that the praising and the pet name make you clench around nothing. Will you ever stop feeling butterflies in your stomach when he is calling you 'babe'? You seriously doubt it.

You decide to catch your breathe while sucking him less deep but faster. His length is dripping from your saliva and your pace drives Jungkook crazy.

"Come on babe, suck on my cock like a good girl. Keep going, I'm gonna cum" He manages to say between his clenched teeth

His inked hand grabs your hair, not to push you but to feel you more in someway. He stands tall on front of you, sexier than ever. He is like a god, powerful and maybe a little dangerous for your sanity. It makes him look even more dominant and you can't deny that it makes you horny. You didn't even know you liked it so much before meeting Jungkook.

A last glance at you, sinfully hot on your knees while his big cock is fulling your pretty mouth, drives him over the edge.

"Babe, I'm cumming, pull off-" He moans

As he tries to step away, you grab his hips to keep him in your mouth. You don't move your head but your tongue is still swirling like crazy around his cock and you feel his first shot of hot and thick cum. You moan fromthe sensation, closing your eyes to have a better taste of his spunk. Seeing you loving his cum makes Jungkook releases more in your mouth, until he completely empties his balls in your warm mouth.

Both Jungkook and you are out of breathe. You slowly stand up, grabbing the hand Jungkook provides you to help. Your legs hurt but it's immediately forgotten when you meet the bliss on Jungkook's handsome face. He rushes over your lips and kisses you passionately.

"Who is the dickhead that told you you weren't good at it?" He asks, half-joking half-serious

"My ex, when we broke up" You try to stay neutral but the memory is still painful - he told very mean things the last time you saw him

"Let me tell you something. He lied. It's the best blowjob I've ever had"

You see the sincerity in Jungkook's eyes and you feel proud. You realize that he helps you overcome your insecurities without even having you feeling like trying to do so. Jungkook just makes you happier.

You hug him tight and he kisses your forehead. You both appreciate the peaceful silence and the warm water, before going to sleep. There is no doubt you'll sleep tight after those mind-blowing orgasms.  

previous ← 9 → next

Taglist @hoseokteardrop @aerynorirene @jkoooooooookie @lacolegaming @busanbby-jjk @mysteriousstress65 @coralmusicblaze @winter-bear98 @gimeow @cuntessaiii @nikkinik485 @jjin-kun @dmstoyangyang

[adhdnojutsu]

"Stop making them gay"

The main reason a lot of male characters in Naruto didn't have a chance with each other despite being written like lovebirds, is because Shonen doesn't do "gay". Itachi was canonically more attached to Shisui than to Izumi and Naruto more to Sasuke than to Hinata, but Shonen insists to be traditionally masculine, and traditional masculinity rejects what it assumes of homosexuality minus its allowance for "manly tears" or flamboyant outfits. Instead, it exaggerates male friendships/brotherhood to a point that is far from credible and has to screech "no homo" as a constant disclaimer. The Naruto franchise may have started "low key shipping" SNS as a joke, but it's not a baseless one at all.

ShiIta are so similar to Romeo & Juliet, it's ridiculous. While they weren't from warring clans, they were loyal to warring entities and bound to be pitted against each other in the coup if it had gone down and Shisui been alive. The conflict between the Uchiha clan and Konoha was in the way of them being as close as they wanted to be, with Shisui being tasked to spy on Itachi and Itachi tasked to spy on the clan Shisui was loyal to, so they had to meet secretly. Ultimately, they were both sacrificed for peace and for what was left of their respective allegiances (Sasuke and Konoha).

Naruto stepped in repeatedly when Itachi was beating up Sasuke, but kept pushing Hinata to fight Neji against whom she clearly stood no chance and who was intending to kill her, because he is pathologically ready to disrespect Sasuke's wishes to save him, but projected his own, naive ideals onto Hinata with no regard for her life, just because it made HIM mad to watch. I mean, he was visibly shocked when Hinata confessed to him 16 years into their lives... She was never a priority in his life before The Last, and he probably would have equally lost it if Pain had beaten up Moegi that way, because he was already livid over Jiraiya, Kakashi, the village etc. and wasn't about to stand for one more friend getting killed by this terrorist. Hinata, at that time, meant little more to him than his other classmates, Sasuke did and always has. He literally asked her why she'd risk her life for him because he did not see or feel anything that would make that question redundant. Izumi wasn't mentioned once post-mortem except vaguely, by Obito, while Shisui's influence on Itachi, both ideological and emotional, is canon gospel. It's so great that I can't help but wonder if he used Kotoamatsukami on Itachi before giving him his remaining eye. "Friendship" and "brotherhood" are NOT "emotional co-dependency and self-destructive emulation". Neither is a healthy romantic relationship, but people in fiction more typically go insane over or sacrifice their authentic self for, (lost) romance than (lost) friendship or siblings.

There's also nothing platonic about stalking your "friend" to a point where he feels compelled to kill you while you're screaming that you're gonna break all of his bones if that's what it takes to keep him by your side. Nothing cute or sane either, mind you. Sasuke and Naruto are a lot like Sarah and Setsuna of Angel Sanctuary. Sure, they're meant to be siblings or sibling-like, but DAMN that's not a sibling-appropriate degree of obsession.

Shonen has a tendency to exaggerate the importance of bonds and convictions, but Kishimoto took it to a level that has licensing companies make jokes in the form of couple-coded merch or fan service scenes. Even if he didn't do it on purpose, he clearly did it on such a blatantly obvious level that you get shit like this:

[tadpolesonalgae]

Fear of the Dark

Dark!Ghost!Azriel x reader

synopsis: after escaping from the Shadowsinger, the High Lord provides you with a new home, in a location entirely of your own choosing. One that just so happens to be frequently visited by window-rattling blizzards, and snow so heavy you’ll often find yourself trapped within the supposedly safe haven. But when things begin moving on their own, and shadows stalk your well-lit halls, you begin to think maybe the Spymaster somehow eluded death, too.

warnings: references to implied noncon, dark!az, paranormal events, nonconsensual touching (shoulders, mouth, hip)

a/n: dedicating this to @azrielhours , and inspired by her wonderful Company of Phantoms🧡💛

want to know more?

word count: 1,963

-Fear of the Cold-

It’s been six months since he died in the fire.

Six months of roaring screams echoing through the desolate hallways.

Half a year.

It goes by quickly when swallowed by delusion. Of persistent psychosis.

Of imagined shadows stalking your corridors. Of dragging footsteps just outside your chambers. Of the windows rattling, and not from the sudden blizzards that sometimes hit—seemingly out of nowhere. Unpredictable, and haunting.

Some days you’ll wake up, greeted by the barren landscape or grey skies and greyer rock, and others all that lays there is white. Blinding, dominating white, like a blanket smothering the harsh, unforgiving terrain.

You know why you picked here to be your place of refuge. For complete isolation.

The rocky landscape means no one could stumble upon your house without intention, tucked up in the sides of the rugged mountain, weathered by icy rain and lashing winds that could make the blood in your fingertips recoil in the space of a breath. Cold so penetrating it could snatch the air from your lungs.

Few understand the true horror of the cold.

Absolute, inescapable cold.

Nature’s blade, that could cleave glaciers in two.

With the stormy skies, there is no access by air. Winged creatures staying clear of your northern-facing home. And yet, despite the utter isolation, you’re faced with company.

After not even a week in your new house, the hairs had been rising at the back of your neck. Unexplainable drafts ghosting up your spine, or kissing the length of your throat. Doors clicking shut during the grey hours of limited daylight. Books that fall from low shelves, the chandeliers that swing softly when you enter a room, plates that appear where they hadn’t been left.

It’s rarely dark in your house, but the weight is smothering. Every corner is kept clear of shadow, flame purging the darkness with a quiet conviction that feels almost reassuring. But there’s nothing reassuring about your new home. Forearms almost constantly littered in goosebumps, hairs rising, skin prickling.

Even at night, candles burn away at the dark, eating at every shadow that tries to crawl in from the cold. But it feels like lighting a fire in the barren wasteland of the frozen tundra. Flame blazing with superficial strength, until it melts the snow bowing the branches far above, ice slipping free, and smothering the fire in one smooth avalanche.

The glass is rattling again, deathly cold wind whipping, icy rain lashing down as you try to lower yourself into sleep. But every time you near that precipice, something pulls you back: the groan of heavy wooden beams that creak through your house, flame flickering with dwindling light as if blown by a ghostly breath, a strange coldness rising from the foot of your bed. That seeps into your blankets first, then spreads to your feet. Slowly crawling up your body, until you’re wrapped in the haunting embrace of long-dead arms.

Even fire can’t always clear his kind of dark.

Dark that smothers, and festers. That concentrates in the hollow space beneath your bed, that hides in the softness of your pillow, that lurks in the pits of your pupils.

He found a way inside, and now he’s sunk his claws in. Like hooked blades that disembowel when they’re extracted. You’d have to empty your brains out into a bucket to be free of him.

Even then, your body would remember. His touch memorised into the tissue of skin, his terror embedded in the sinew of flesh.

The window spiderwebs, the distinct sound of fracturing glass dumping icy water over your near sleeping form. Hauling you up from the pit of an ocean, wrapped in seaweed to face the stormy grit of the blizzard outside.

Instead, your attention is sucked in by the ever-shifting shadow at the foot of your bed, chilling wind pouring in through the glass, candles winking out. Swallowed in darkness.

The air is pulled from your lungs faster than the cold can snatch it, sat bolt upright in your still-cooling bed.

The darkness holds no recognisable form, simply clustered together as a writhing mass of overwhelming shadow, but there’s no mistaking who it is. Who lurks beneath those suffocatingly concentrated umbras. Inky and undulating.

You’re frozen to your mattress, an icicle thawing out far above as it drips cold sweat down onto your brow, every breath biting at your lungs, making your throat raw.

It’s dark, and you have no protection as he looms so tauntingly before you, hands trembling as they try to grip the freezing sheets. But you can hardly move.

Air chokes in your throat as the shadowy mass expands forward, encroaching toward the foot of your bed. Your eyes widen with terror, watching as talons of darkness spider-crawl onto your duvet, feet recoiling like hot blood against the cold, knees pulling up to your chest, back pressed against the headboard.

“You’re dead,” you breathe out, air thin and slippery between your lips. “You’re dead. You can’t hurt me.”

Your stomach seizes, lurching as the shadowy tendrils stutter in their movements, like shoulders shaking with silent mirth. You get the feeling he’s laughing. Crawling closer still.

He reaches past your feet, darkness swarming over your knees, and within the cloying night you can feel the weight of hands. Of heavy, corporeal touch. One that sinks into your bones as they tremble with old fear.

“You can’t be here,” you whisper, pressing tight into the cold cushioning of the headboard, head tucking into your shoulders as you try to pull away from his overwhelming darkness, writhing throughout the deathly cold room, his touch like ice. “Leave me…” you breathe, voice breaking.

The weight of a palm weighs into the mattress, beside your hip, tying you in place as the living night, faceless and dominating, swells above you.

Your hand reaches sharply for your bedside table, viciously shaking fingers fumbling with the box of matches, sliding the cardboard out with a last trembling hope. Again the darkness stutters, a shadowy laugh whispering beside your ear, an icy draft kissing up the length of your throat.

The match strikes…once…twice…three time before sizzling into a small lick of flame.

In the few seconds of light you’re afforded, shadow easily melts away, pulling out instead hauntingly dark hazel eyes, piercing as the flame sharpens them. The cold, dead mouth that had once hungrily claimed your own, teeth dragging and prominent as they bit you into pieces. The eerily pale tones of his face, warmth vacant from the smooth planes.

You choke on a breath.

Soft, cruel lips curve at the edge, eyes twinkling with the reflection of your match, before his weight shifts over the bed and scarred, calloused fingers pinch out the flame. Skin that remembers its burn now extinguishing it without thought, freed from its sizzling agony.

You scream into the darkness, sinking down into the false safety of your duvet, hauling it over your head as you tuck yourself tight, trembling violently despite desperate attempts to still yourself. A cry breaks from your lips as you feel himself lower over you, directly atop you, trapped beneath his bulk. A cannonball shackled to your ankle, pulling you beneath a frozen lake, blood icing in your veins.

He shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be alive.

You heard him die, watched as the flesh slid from his bones, muscle melting beneath the blazing inferno of the house fire.

You smelled it. Could taste it in the smokey air.

“Come out…come out…,” the shadow rasps mirthfully, weight brushing atop the blanket, stroking down your arm, drifting to your hip. Touch biting into bone. “Come out…and play…”

“Go away,” you beg under your breath, squeezing yourself tight, tears burning as they drip over the bridge of your nose, sliding off your face. “Leave me alone…”

The darkness laughs, and your stomach seizes as the duvet is slowly pulled back, dragged firmly from your grip. Numbed fingers try to grapple with the sheets, but he’s so much stronger than you. Just as he’s always been.

“Stop it…” you beg, trying to turn to the side as the blanket is pulled away, revealing his swarming darkness that looms above, with a weight that should not be possible. A spectre should not be corporeal, should not have the right to touch the living. He should have lost that privilege upon passing.

Icy fingertips brush your cheek, and a small cry breaks from your lips, quiet and terrified, eyes squeezed shut in feeble attempts to keep him out as the storm rages.

He dips down, and chilly breath grazes the space beneath your jaw, a whimper pulling from your throat as a broad palm makes its way up your front, settling across your sternum heavily, pressing down on your chest, making it difficult to breathe.

“Please…” you whisper, crying now, “just leave me alone…”

His cold mouth opens over your neck, soft lips sealing over a patch of skin as he tastes you, tongue slowly licking over the junction between your shoulder and neck. Darkness shrouds your bedroom, encasing you in a perpetually cold bubble, sealing out the lashing wind and rain, but trapping you in mist. Thick and impenetrable.

The phantom pulls away, lips grazing your jaw, and even with your eyes closed you can feel his proximity. The piercing weight of his attention as it presses up against your skin.

“Call out for me,” he rasps, voice shadowy and shifting, as if speaking in multiple tones at once. “Call out for me,” he urges, coldness thumbing across your cheek, as if trying to coax your eyes to open. So he can feel their warmth, and their terror.

But you shake your head, teeth chattering as you shiver, shuddering beneath his touch. “Go away,” you beg, “leave me alone.”

A soft puff of breath ghosts over your lips, like a faint laugh, and you shrink back into the mattress while his shadows wrap closer around your body, squeezing like serpents. “Call out for me,” he repeats, his gaze roving over your mouth, parted for air despite its bite.

Hot tears scald your skin as they drip out, peeking open your eyes, as breath is again snatched from your body. A mountain of pressure sitting atop your chest.

He’s as haunting as you remember, cruelly carved beauty, hewn from an ice that tries to be soft, but will only end up flooding if it thaws. Drowning you in his deadly affection. Filling your lungs until they’re close to bursting with his poisonous infatuation.

Hazel eyes flicker as they greedily devour your own, overwhelming and immense as you’re submerged into his obsession. Saturated in his hunger. Starvation so deep it persists after death.

“Azriel…” you breathe, lips trembling around his name, feeling as though its the last line of an enchantment, solidifying his presence, binding him to your own mortality.

Soft lips curve at their edges, a spark of life stolen from your existence. Fed off of, until he’s permanently entwined with your being. Persistent and parasitical.

He hums lowly, approvingly, and you swallow. Fear making you feel sick.

Slowly, as if basking in the descent, he settles his mouth atop your own, snow-soft lips slanting against a frozen stiff set, applying gentle pressure as he savours the feeling.

He still moves with such grace, such innate refinement that between the two of you, you seem the more lifeless. With unmoving limbs, and vacant eyes, you are the more dead.

The shadows pull away, blood gingerly rising to where his touch had been.

“I’ll return,” he whispers, mouth still faintly curved into a soft deception of tenderness.

Flickering night morphs and shifts, dissolving along with the wind.

“Find me in the dark.”

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya

dark!az taglist: @honeyandhalfmoons

[ornii]

|| My Kind of Crazy ||

Harley Quinn X Male Reader

So after Binge Watching Barbie, rewatching Suicide Squad, Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn), don’t forget that part, and The Suicide Squad, my appreciation For Morgot Robbie has increased more than it already has. Adore her. So, here’s part one of ?

(Any Tags I forgot please let me know.)

The Stench of rotting carpet, old wood and the tinge of blood was in the air. But this was all a part of the plan. Inside that old decrepit apartment you had your pistol Aimed at a man standing before you, Batman. Yes, The, Batman. A series of choices lead to this moment, but it wasn’t always like this. You were his Robin, his Boy wonder. Now you’re the shadow hiding within Gotham. Your foot was placed on the chest of another man, who’s cold and chilling laugher echoes though the room, Joker. It was on this same day, that you were Abducted; tortured, and subsequently Killed by the Very man. A Trip in the Lazuras pit changed you for the worst. But to your surprise after your revival, Joker was still alive, and Batman hadn’t sunk revenge for your murder, and all you could ask was…

“Why?” You as under your Helmet.. “Why him?” You said, Batman was stoic, silent.

“Who are you..?” He grumbles, his voice modulated to avoid detection, “You don’t know? I’m hurt.” You say with much sarcasm, you grip your helmet and tear it off, showing your face to Batman, even with the small J scar under your eye, it’s obvious who you were. Out of all the people he thought, he never expected his old Sidekick..

To be under the Red Hood.

Jokers eyes lock with the scar and he laughs much harder.

“Wow, now THAT, is funny!” He has his grilled toothy grin, and you placed your foot higher right on his throat. The wheezing laughter continues slowly.

“You don’t get to talk.” You growl at him, and then turnt your attention back to Batman.

“You know, I forgive you for not saving me, you can’t save everyone. But why, why is HE still alive?!” You scream, the rage and trauma building up in you finally. “After everything he’s done, he’s crippled, broken, murdered people! Why, why is he still here?!”

“You don’t understand… you never understood.” He said to you, and you scoff.

“What? That you can’t do it? That you don’t have the spine to! It’s too hard isn’t it?” You ask, Bruce shakes his head.

“No, I know it’s easy, he deserves to die a thousand times over, but if I killed him, i wouldn’t stop myself… I’d justify it, then I’d justify killing someone else, and it’ll keep going.. and I’ll sink further, and further into the dark.” Bruce said, you shook your head.

“You can’t control yourself… I’m not talking about Dent, or Penguin, Even Harley!” You toss the gun, Bruce instinctively catches it but, obviously isn’t capable of holding a gun.

“Do it, shoot him. Kill one, and save millions of lives… you’re the Batman right! You save people, don’t you? So save them! And kill him!” You demand, Bruce stares at you, both of you unwavering in your convictions. But he simply dropped the gun.

“No… I’m sorry, (Y/n).” He said in a solemn whisper.

“Fine!” You yell, revealing one last trick up your sleeve. an explosive set in the entire apartment block, revealing the dead man’s switch in your other hand. Joker laughs as he looks around it all beeping. He turns to Batman, and just smiles

“You, you found a way to win! But to lose everything! AHAHAHAHAHA—“ he laughs, reveling in the chaos as you let go of the switch, Batman made a choice, and now all three of you had to live with it, and in a flash, an explosion, it all faded to black for you.

You’ve been playing that in your mind for the past year you’ve been in Belle Reeve. Sitting in your orange room, captive. The 4x4 room kept you isolated, only for a bang at the door.

“Inmate. You’ve got a visitor! Stand up, face the wall.” He yells, you weren’t keen to listen to others. You stood up, facing the door, cracking your neck.

“Any of your men step in, I’m sending ten of them to the ICU.” You said, very calmly, the door opens and they rush in, training with the Batman made fighting multiple enemies a breeze, punches, kicks and knees flew all though the room as you delivered counters, combos and ruthless tactics. But all fun even came at an end as you were apprehended and locked into a chair. Struggling like a dog you strained to get out, you were wheels around Belle Reeve as you see eleven stretchers head to your cell.

“Told you..” you mutter, struggling in the binds. Being wheeled into an interrogation room, you kept your lips purse until you saw your visitor, she wore a women’s suit and skirt, her eyes deep brown like mud drowning you in muck. Amanda Waller. You looked around and saw that the room was being monitored by a single camera. She gave one officer the nod and he presses a button, the red light on the camera fades off.

“You’re not as scary as I expected.” She said, holding a file she sat down across from you. You knew about Waller, working with the Batman gave you some intel on contacts. And she was the nastiest one of all.

“Waller?” You ask.

“In the flesh.” She responded and opened your file, reading it off.

“(Y/n) Todd, Father was a factory worker, died due to Gang related activity. Mother was an addict, died years ago, leaving you alone, but you see.. that’s where it ends, as if you faded off the planet of the earth. Until you resurface a year later.” She said, all of that was true.

“What’s your point?” You ask. And she reads off another page.

“Peak Physical fitness, durability, speed, Agility, Strenght. Master Of Arms and a Genius level intellect… you are a dangerous and powerful individual, so I’m offering you a chance to cut your sentence down..” she offers

“You’re bluffing..” you struggle in the binds more, but Waller keeps her dead stare.

“Do I look like I’m bluffing?” She said, you stop and she looks you in the eye. “you complete your task, you get years off your sentence, you fail.. you die. Fairly simple.” She said, a million thoughts raced though your mind, but one did.

“Get out, Find Joker.. Kill, Joker.”

“…Im in.” You said, Waller takes her file and closes it. “Good, get his bomb in and relay with the others.” She says, your attitude shifts pretty quickly, “bomb?” You ask, “What do you mean bomb?!” You yell, but nobody said anything, being wheeled away you were held down by officers and a needle injected right into the base of your skull. Granted it wasn’t the worse thing that’s been done to you, still hurt. Finally reaching the breaking point you were wheeled outside, the sun finally hitting your skin and you found yourself surrounded by soldiers, many wounded, others preparing for what seems to be a war.

You turn your head left to spot someone you know too well, Deadshot. Seems he was also canned to Belle Reeve, and to your left was a woman you knew too well, Harley Quinn, also a prisoner. Your blood began to boil even more than before and you were ready to throttle her, but with all these soldiers here, you doubt you’d be able to do it without getting filled with lead. So you bid your time as any Hunter would. A Soldier approached them, and looked them up and down.

“Unlock 'em.” He orders, the soldiers obliged and your restraints are removed, you sit up from yoyr bindings and look further down your line. You even spot Killer Croc, in all his, Lizardy goodness. Harley Stretches and keeps her off putting smile. Closest to Harley was a man adorned with Tattoos, ElDiablo was his name, you heard a few reports about him from Batman.

“Mmm! Hi, boys! Harley Quinn. How do you do?” She said, obviously no one said anything. It was dead silence until she looks around. “Huh? What was that? I should kill everyone and escape? Sorry. It's the voices…” she said, but laughs, “I'm kidding! Jeez!…That's not what they really said.”

The soldiers aren’t done assembling their Squad, more soldiers drag over a sack that’s fighting pretty furiously.

“What do we got here? Twelve pounds of shit in a 10-pound sack. Welcome to the party, Captain Boomerang.” He watches them cut it open, Captain immediately swings on the first person he sees. The Soldiers pin him to a wall.

“Hey, what's going on, man? Hey, one minute I'm playing Mahjong with me nanna, then this red streak hits me outta nowhere.” Boomerang pleads.

“Shut up! You were caught robbing a diamond exchange.”

“I was not!”

He Totally Was.

There was one last member, Slipknot, the man who could climb anything, which was an odd ability set, it nonetheless he was here. The man before them all was Colonel Rick Flag.

“Listen up! In your necks, injection you got, it's a nanite explosive. It's the size of a rice grain, but it's powerful as a hand grenade. You disobey me, you die. You try to escape, you die. You otherwise irritate or vex me, and guess what? You die.” He says, which throws a wrench in your plans to escape, Harley obnoxiously puts her hand up.

“I'm known to be quite vexing. I'm just forewarning you.”

“Lady, shut up!” Flag yells, and then composed himself, “This is the deal. You're going somewhere very bad, to do something that'll get you killed. But until that happens, - you're my problem.” He explains, Deadshot looks him up and down.

“Mmm. So was that like a, uh, pep talk?” He asks.

“Yeah. That was a pep talk. There's your shit. Grab what you need for a fight. We're wheels up in 10.” He said, crates of gear was brought in for you and your “Teammates.”

“You might wanna work on your team motivation thing. You heard of Phil Jackson? He's like the gold standard, okay? Triangle, bitch. Study.” Deadshot, with those very inspiring words to flag suits up with everyone. You open your crate to see the old gear you had, still in damn good condition, and you suit up, Your body armor and jacket lined with shuriken, explosives and throwing knives, a combat knife strapped to your leg. Twin M1911 Dual Handguns, mint condition. And your helmet, still holding one scar on it, you take the helmet out of its case and stare at it. Your eyes waver for a moment to your other teammates, everyone seems to have some dumb gimmick, but your eyes dressed down Harley, not by your choice of course, you’ve been cramped in a hole for nearly a year, and the first woman you see was stripping down in front of you. An urge came over you and you knew exactly what it was, she finally gets her shirt on and sees almost every guy staring.

“What?” She said, they all quickly go back to doing what they were supposed to do, you as well, pushing those feelings down. You keep looking at your mask, Deadshot does the same thing with his.

“What? Won't fit anymore? Too much junk in the trunk?” Harley said to him.

“Nah. Every time I put this on, somebody dies.” He tried to shake it off, but couldn’t that.. this wouldn’t be a normal contracts

“And?” Harley said.

“I like putting it on.” He admits, she smirks and grabs her mallet, “Goody. Somethin' tells me a whole lotta people are about to die!” She sounds so giddy.

“Yeah. It's us. We're being led to our deaths.” Diablo said.

“I don’t plan on it.” You said, looking down the barrels of one of your 1911’s.

“You know something we don’t Mate?” Boomerang asks, “No.” You reply. “I just don’t plan on dying again.” You mutter.

“What you a zombie or something?” Deadshot looks unimpressed. “Something like that… point is; Been dead, done that… I plan on getting out of here..” you say, and turn to Harley.

“I’ve got business to take care of.” You made your claim pretty obvious but it didn’t matter to you, escape is the only plan, and getting this explosive disabled. “You don’t seem to giddy like these guys..” you ask El Diablo, “I’m not here to hurt anyone man.” He said. Deadshot was the first to let them all know.

“Y'all might wanna leave old boy alone. He could torch this whole joint. Ain't that right, ese?” He looks at Diablo, who calmly shows his hands, flames emitting from them, but low ones:

“Ain't got nothing to worry about from me. I'm cool, homie.” He says, Flag returns to them, holding a tablet with Amanda on screen.

“Behold the voice of God.” He said, and she gives them the rundown. “For those of you who don't know me officially, my name is Amanda Waller. There's an active terrorist event in Midway City. I want you to enter the city, rescue HVT-1, and get them to safety.” She orders.

“I'm sorry. Uh... For those of us who don't speak good guy, what is HVT-1?” Deadshot asks.

“HVT.. High Value Target.” You say, “It’s like a bounty, Basically a rescue mission.” You explain, Deadshot nods, admitting you made it sound much less cool. “The only person that matters in the city, the one person you can't kill. Complete the mission, you get time off your prison sentence. Fail the mission, you die. Anything happens to Colonel Flag, I'll kill every single one of you. Remember, I'm watching. I see everything.” Waller ends the communication and Flag turns to Deadshot

There's your pep talk.”

“Compared to your shit, she killed it. So that's it? What, we some kind of Suicide Squad?” He asks, Flag ignores his question and leaves.

“I'll notify your next of kin. Alpha, Bravo team. Mount up!” He orders, you look around to the team you’ll be forced to work with. All of them, criminals in their own right, but for now they’re the thing between success, or all of you dying painful deaths. You put on your helmet and the detective mode still works, turning it off. You load your guns and walk to the helicopter.

Task Force X, has been activated.

[melodygatesauthor]

Bossy Boy

Steven Grant X f!Reader

Not Beta Read - Requested by @xbellaxcarolinax

Kinks - Pushy Bottom + Messy Orgasm

Summary

You and Steven are trying out the dom/sub lifestyle and it's...it's not going according to plan.

Tags/Warnings

NSFW, dom/sub relationship (sorta), Steven and Reader are trying it out, p in v creampie, sex, smut, pwp

Word Count: 686

“Steven, what have I told you?”

“To be patient love but…” he whined and arched his hips upward, the fat head of his leaking cock brushing your folds, “come on, I think I’ve waited long enough, yeah?” 

Steven wasn’t good at being a sub, and if you were being honest, you weren’t the best dom either. You complied, lowering yourself over him, something you were pretty sure you were supposed to make him beg for, but you wanted it as badly as he did and you had little self control.

It sounded like you sat down in a puddle, given the accumulation of both yours and Steven’s arousal pooled underneath you. He wasted no time grabbing your ass cheeks in a firm grip, guiding you as you started riding him at a moderate pace. You whacked his hands away as soon as you remembered what the two of you were trying to do. You were trying - and failing at - the dom and sub dynamic in the bedroom.

“Bad boy Steven!” You tapped his chest playfully.

He grabbed the bedding at his sides and held on tight, biting his lower lip as you continued working yourself on his length. You let out a sigh in pleasure, rising and falling over him at an even tempo. You felt his hips bucking upward, demanding more from you. You leaned over and grabbed his strong throat, your hand looking pathetically small against it.

“Stop moving,” you ordered with little conviction.

“S-sorry love, can’t help m’self, feels so good I–”

“Shh,” you slid your hand off his throat and covered his mouth in your palm.

He kept mumbling, even though you had no idea what he was saying to you. You started moving a little faster, seeing how desperate he was. Everything was so wet between your bodies, and with Steven, always such a leaky thing, you never knew who was to blame: you or him. You felt both of his hands on your hips again and his eyes rolled back in his head.

This time he didn’t let go, and he started pumping himself into you faster. You gasped, grabbing both of his forearms. He was slamming upward, cock brushing against your cervix with every pass.

“Steven you’re supposed to–” you fell back, hands grabbing his legs while he jackhammered himself into you harder from below, “-y-you’re supposed to–f-fuck it–oh god!”

Steven was holding onto your waist so hard you thought he might crush you, but you didn’t care; it felt so good. He moved one of his hands over your abdomen and started using the pad of his thumb to roll over your swollen clit. You started screaming nonsensically into the flat, hoping to god that your neighbors were out.

“That’s it love-this is what I need-oh yes-need to make you cry out darling–shit!”

Well you’d tried, but Steven was just too pushy, and you liked when he acted so desperate he couldn’t stop himself from just taking what he wanted. The two of you flat out sucked at being a dom and sub, but that was okay, maybe you’d try again another time.

“Look at that p-pretty-little-thing-god!” His voice was cracking with every sharp, raspy moan that escaped his lips. “Feels so good love, feels good squeezin’ me so hard I–oh god I–I–yes-yes-yes!”

Steven’s hips stopped suddenly, cock throbbing with every spurt of cum it spilled into you. Your fluttering cunt was accompanied by your gasping whines of pleasure as your climax washed over you as well. Steven pumped you so full it started spilling out the sides. As you both came down from your simultaneous release, you leaned forward and placed a kiss on his - still wide open - mouth.

“M’not good at the submissive thing love, so sorry, just…needed it y’know?” He huffed out a laugh.

“I know, we can try again another time,” you kissed his cheek and then slid off of him.

Steven was covered all over his lower abdomen and legs in your combined juices. He looked down at himself chuckling and then raising an eyebrow at you.

“Made quite a mess didn’t we?”

Steven Grant Masterlist

Moon Knight Masterlist

Melody's 1k Celebration Masterlist

[ddarker-dreams]

Hierarchy of Needs.

Daryl Dixon x F Reader.

Notes: originally, i was gonna keep this one between me and my google docs, but it's kinda cute ngl so everyone gets to see it Tags: Not SFW, set at the start of Alexandria era, takes place from Daryl's POV. Word count: 10.5k.

Daryl is a hands-on type of man.

He was never one to dawdle, sitting in one place for too long made him squirm. He swore it could be an allergy or some shit. Gets him all itchy and shifting his weight from foot to foot. The problem is, given the general uncertainty surrounding their current living arrangements, Daryl’s limited on what he can and can’t do. For the first time since the dead started walking, he’s caught up in the invisible net of “social expectations”.

Normally, he wouldn’t give a damn, but this isn’t just about him. This is about Judith getting the nutrients she needs. Carl not having to figure out how many sips of his rapidly diminishing water canteen to take to avoid dehydration. The group that’s come to be his family, in every sense of the word, having a roof over their heads and some peace of mind at night. There’s too much on the line for him to screw this up.

So he’s just got to grin and bear it (without the grinning).

Another particular individual comes to mind — all bright smiles and what seems to him to be the physical embodiment of all that’s good in this decaying world — but he swats the thought away like a pesky gnat. In his heart of hearts, he knows he’s dealing with the uppity bullshit for everyone’s sake, but… maybe there is one person he’s putting in the extra effort for. The person that kept him from glaring at some old folk who were looking at him earlier this morning like he was some escaped convict, the person who he’d kill for if it ever came down to it. Someone he already has killed for.

“Got room for one more?”

Daryl almost jumps out of his skin at the abrupt awakening from his thoughts, though from anyone else’s perspective, it probably just looks like he’s scowling harder. It’s wholly unlike him to not notice someone’s approach, human or otherwise. He’s about to give a grunt of indifference before it clicks in his brain just who is standing before him.

It’s you, the person he’d swear he wasn’t thinking such mushy thoughts about even if someone tried to waterboard the information out of him. He has to blink a few times for your newly freshened-up appearance to sink in. Your skin is clean, not a spec of dirt or grime in sight, the same going for your hair. He can’t remember the last time he’d seen you wear it down. Since the colder months in the prison, maybe? It’s a good look on you. To be fair, he’d think just about anything would look good on you.

One of his shirts, for instance. He can envision it picture it now, clear as day—

He has to stop himself from chasing after that line of thought, recalling with mild embarrassment how he still has yet to answer you.

“Can’t stop ya.”

You roll your eyes at that, giving him a look that screams ‘oh really?’, but take a seat nonetheless. Daryl’s set himself up on the porch of the house the group’s been granted. Given the position of the sun in the sky, he figures it’s about noon now. The shift in time brought a volume change. This morning, he could hear the chatter coming from within like he was in the room, everyone having finally received a proper night’s sleep for the first time in who knows how long. It quieted down when the group dispersed to their newly assigned jobs, or in the case of others, to sightsee.

Daryl takes a long drag of his cigarette while you situate yourself next to him on the porch’s steps. He eyes your outfit from his peripherals, an odd wave of something inexplicable rushing over him at the sight. It’s a nice white blouse with some jeans maybe a size or two too large for you. He can’t help but give his garments a once over. They still show evidence of the rough past few months spent living on the road. Now that he thinks about it, everything about him probably sends that message. He’d yet to take a shower or do so much as clean his face.

Is that why the Alexandrians had been giving him the side eye? Everyone else had practically been tripping over each other at the opportunity to shower, whereas he couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d disregarded Carol’s comments about it and would likely do the same if anyone had the balls to bring it up to his face, but for some reason, having you in his general vicinity is making him feel uncharacteristically self-conscious. You’re not looking at him with disgust, or looking at him with anything really, just your trademark smile that made him feel like melting into a pile of happy goo.

“You didn’t feel up to going out and exploring?” You inquire, hugging a knee to your chest. He shakes his head. At this, you scoot closer, excitement radiating from your being. “Want to come check it out with me, then? It feels… weird going places by myself. We’d always pair up in twos at least. I feel like I’m betraying our unspoken buddy system.”

He snorts at that. “Nah, ‘ve seen all I need to already.”

He knows he needs to change the subject before you decide this is a venture worth pursuing. If you gave him those damn doe eyes and asked sweetly enough, he’d do just about anything you asked. Hell, you didn’t even need to do all that for him to almost always cave. This weakness of his went mostly unnoticed to himself (or maybe he didn’t want to acknowledge it), until Merle put two and two together. It didn’t take him long either. He’d asked none too quietly how his little brother ended up pussy-whipped in his absence. Daryl had almost converted when he realized some higher power stopped you from overhearing the comment.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the last smarmy comment about you Merle was destined to make. If anything, that was one of the more forgivable remarks, since the brunt of it was directed at him.

No, the worst had come when Merle had been tasked with taking Michonne to The Governor. It was a regrettable final exchange between brothers all around. Daryl can’t recall exactly how the conversation had shifted to you, or the exact words that led up to that final gut punch, but he can still hear his brother’s mocking voice speak the sentence that’s haunted him ever since.

“You've been so busy drooling over her to realize, so let me spell it out for ya nice and slow. She ain't ever gonna want you the same way you want her. We're freaks to people like that. Nothing but redneck trash. And don’t you ever forget it.”

Daryl inhales deeply, the scent of cheap tobacco mixing with the shampoo you must’ve used. It’s light and sweet. Nothing could fit you better.

“Thought you’d be at the infirmary by now,” Daryl isn’t sure who he’s trying to distract anymore — you, or him. “Got ran off already?”

Your closed-mouth smile falters for a millisecond. Anyone else might not have noticed the nearly imperceptible change, but Daryl’s got a hunter’s eye, not to mention how attuned he is to your every mannerism. He’s ready to shove his personal woes aside if it means making room for yours.

“Well, that’s a way to describe it,” he can tell by your tone that you’re trying to keep the conversation lighthearted. How very like you. “When Deanna interviewed me, I not-so-subtly hinted at everything I had learned from Hershel. Although, to be fair, I talked up everyone from our group. I even defended Eugene’s honor like the man had won a Pulitzer. I would’ve said anything if it meant not getting thrown back out there.”

He nods, listening to your every word as if the secrets to the universe were held within.

“Anyway… I guess my sales pitch went purposefully unnoticed. She did say that she’d let the resident doctor know, but that he was ‘particular’ about how he goes about his practice. I think that’s politician talk for ‘not gonna happen’. She seemed eager to move on from the subject. So, for the time being, we’re both unemployed.”

Daryl has to will himself not to get distracted and laugh at your joke. He knows you don’t like to be ‘a downer’ (your words, not his), which leads you to hide negative sentiments behind that pretty smile. He gets it, because he does the same thing, utilizing a gruff exterior instead of your near-blinding charm.

“‘S stupid. Don’t let it get to ya.”

“Oh, I won’t,” you grin at him genuinely enough. He temporarily reassesses, wondering if he read you wrong, when your shoulders slightly slump. “I just really want this to work. We need this to work. The fact we lasted out there for so long, with a baby, is almost enough to have me asking Gabriel if he can send my regards to the big man in the sky.”

“It’ll work,” he tells you, his tongue working faster than his brain. You give him a hesitant nod. You know just as well as he does that there’s no way to make guarantees like that. Still, when Daryl’s so used to seeing you in bloom, having you wilt beside him hurts. Worse than a knife being twisted in his gut.

“Yeah,” your voice drops to a whisper then. You glance around, as if checking for prying eyes and ears, then continue when satisfied there are none. “I hope everyone else thinks so too. Rick looks to me like he's been thinking 'Viva La Vida' ever since we first set foot inside.”

Daryl searches the recesses of his brain to grasp at what your vague term means, squinting while he does so. He thinks he may have heard it in a history class at some point, in between playing hooky. Sensing his confusion, you elaborate, but not without throwing in a shitty French accent that has no business sounding as cute as it does.

“Révolution.”

You’re more perceptive than you let on, aren’t you? He wonders if Carol has been taking notes, considering the friendly-totally-not-threatening-cookie-and-casserole-making façade she’s recently adopted. He supposes it’s a bit different. You don’t actively hide your strengths, but you don’t go around advertising them either.

It was one of the first things Daryl noticed about you. In truth, he hadn’t given you much thought when he initially met you back on the side of the highway in Atlanta. He mentally categorized you as some city girl who’d probably complain about how the mosquitos are constantly biting or whatever. While you did express your fair share of disdain over the bloodsucking bugs, it was more of an icebreaker than anything. A way to loosen people up. Lighten the spirits when things got too heavy.

You were the opposite of Daryl in that way, a bonafide people magnet. He hadn’t given this quality of yours enough credit until he saw you bring a smile to Carl’s face soon after his mom’s tragic death. Then there was the way you cared for the people he found out on the road back in the prison days. They were often understandably closed off, disbelieving of the security the chain link fences supposedly provided. You made it a point to help bring them into the fold. No one asked you to, you just did it, because that’s the type of person you are.

Daryl brought people in, you made them feel at home. He cherished that little connection he had with you. It made him feel warm and fuzzy, like he’d downed enough liquor to feel buzzed without getting drunk. Everything about you was similarly stupefying and addicting.

When the prison fell, he thought all possibilities of restoring that connection fell with it. A silly thing to mourn, but he mourned it nonetheless, another line on a seemingly infinite list. Maybe… maybe it doesn’t have to be a figment of the past. If this place, Alexandria, is where your group decides to kick up their feet, he could start recruiting again. Look forward to seeing how you run over to greet the fresh faces upon hearing of his return.

It’s a nice thought. He’ll have to see if reality is anywhere near as kind.

“Rick’s just wary, ‘s all. Hard not to be. Y’know how it was out there. What we saw.”

“… Yeah,” you shift in your seat. “Well, at least these folks didn’t break out the salt and pepper when we walked through the gates.”

“Jesus Christ, woman.”

He can’t stop a single chuckle from slipping out, though he still cringes at the Terminus callback.

“Heard they got a shrink somewhere ‘round here. Might wanna look into that.”

“Hey, I said I’m trying to make this work, not end up in a Hannibal Lecter getup.”

You and your damn movie references. At least he’s familiar with this one. Sometimes he swore you and Eugene were speaking in another language when you two got on the topic of entertainment. Not being able to share that interest with you made him feel a certain way — a real shitty way.

“You’re the last one of us they’d throw out,” Daryl muses. You tilt your head at that, furrowing your eyebrows like when he’d first recounted the chupacabra story. He decides not to expand on the subject; it has too many of his feelings intertwined. Not worth the risk. “Unless they catch wind of your shitty sense of humor. Can’t say what’d happen then.”

You place a hand to your chest in faux indignation. “Well, Dixon, you laugh at my ‘shitty sense of humor’ more often than you don’t, so what does that say about you?”

A lot of things he can’t bring himself to admit out loud, mostly.

You give him a playful punch in the shoulder when he doesn’t dignify you with a response. The touch is so innocent, a mere brush of your knuckles against his skin, yet it throws his mind into temporary disarray. The effect you have on him could be subject to study; it’s as if every nerve in his body is set on fire. He feels warm, from his face to the tip of his ears. Then that heat drifts steadily downward. It’s then that he becomes fully aware of how close you are. How he can see your collarbones, and if he tilts his head at just the right angle, the start of some cleavage.

It’s got to be wrong, how much he desires you. The ways he desires you. It makes him feel ickier than the months without a proper shower ever could. You’re so bright, so kind, so good, he shouldn’t be lusting after you like some boy whose voice hasn’t broken yet. You trust him, he knows you do. He’s overheard you go so far as to call him one of your closest friends. Considering the far better options you have out there, he should feel blessed you even give him that much. Wanting anything more than that isn’t just greedy, it’s downright risky.

Daryl would never forgive himself if he made you the slightest bit uncomfortable, he’s given people shit for less. Someone could look in your general direction for too long and he’d start glaring.

Right when he starts willing himself to pull his head out of the gutter, you go to tie your hair up, effectively shutting any possibility of him doing that down. Your chest arches forward at the movement and he’s treated to a lovely view of your neck. You must sense the heavy way he’s staring at you, for you turn your head towards him. He doesn’t make the situation any better by shifting his attention ahead fast enough to almost give him whiplash.

“Are you planning on coming to that welcoming party tonight?”

Daryl has to bite back a groan at this topic of conversation. Why is everyone so damn interested in his attendance to some yuppie soiree? He knows that if the request is coming from you, it’ll steadily break his resolve down.

His facial expressions must have betrayed his thoughts, for you laugh. “I didn’t think so. I can’t blame you. I’m actually planning on bailing at the first opportunity I get.”

He raises an eyebrow at this. “Really? Can’t believe ’m hearing that from Miss Social Butterfly.”

“I think I’m more of a social caterpillar for the time being. It’s just, uh, a lot. I’m pretty sure Rick wants to put me on display as some sort of standup citizen like back on the farm. That I could handle. This, I’m not so sure. I don’t know the first thing about croquet. I feel like I’m lowering the GDP just by being in the general vicinity.”

He has to stop himself from gawking. He can’t fathom why you of all people would feel this way. That elderly couple who was staring him down probably would’ve fawned over you, pinched your cheeks and welcomed you in for quinoa. He’s about to voice this when your comment about the farm catches his attention more.

“The hell’d he have you do on the farm?”

“Oh, that’s right, you may not have noticed. I’d mostly situate myself in the areas Hershel was bound to come across with a Bible in my hands. Y’know, nodding my head and stuff, looking really into it. Worked like a charm. Tensions were high, but I think he felt slightly less inclined to send us packing knowing there was a God-fearing individual among us.”

He snorts, shaking his head in disbelief. You really were something else. He swears he could talk to you for hours if you allowed him.

“Try the Bible-thumping again. Might just do the trick.”

“Somehow or another, I doubt that. You’ve noticed it, haven’t you? The staring. I swear I saw some blinds being drawn when we all came out earlier.”

Of course he’d noticed. He’s likely half the reason behind it. “That’s what you’re ‘ere for. To get ‘em to stop looking at us like a damn circus act.”

“You and Rick are overestimating me. Maggie and Glenn have got it covered, little Judith adds brownie points too,” you tilt your head back to look at the cloudless sky. “Anyway, I figured if you planned on ditching, I’d invite myself along. Buddy system, remember?”

He flicks the cigarette out of his hands and onto the ground, extinguishing it beneath the sole of his boot. “Like I said earlier — can’t stop ya.”

Daryl silently praises himself for keeping up the cool and indifferent front when he’s internally celebrating over the prospect of having more alone time with you. What he wouldn’t give for more of that. He hasn’t the slightest damn clue why you seem to favor his company, but if there’s anything the apocalypse has taught him, it’s to accept a miracle when he’s handed one.

You smile at him as if he’d just offered you the world on a silver platter. It does too much to his poor heart.

“Great! It’s a date then.”

He almost chokes on his spit from how casually you say that, his eyes wide blown and jaw slacking. Fortunately, you’re none the wiser, standing up and patting the dirt off your jeans. The realization you’re about to leave makes him feel pathetically empty. He’d spent just about every moment of the past few weeks by your side, yet it wasn’t enough, he doesn’t think anything can be enough. The more of you he gets, the more of you he wants. You’re worse than the drugs his brother used to sing the praises of.

“Heading out?” Daryl can’t stop himself from questioning, no matter how obvious it might make him look. The porch steps already felt a whole lot emptier without you sitting beside him.

“Yeah, I promised to save Michonne if she wasn’t back in ten. She’s getting swarmed by children curious about her sword.”

“Good luck on your search n’ rescue.”

You give him a silly salute then, finishing the pantomime off with a bout of giggles. Then you’re off. Daryl exhales shakily, cursing himself for the way his heart’s pounding like he’d just run a marathon. He knows he needs to squash this lovesickness before it’s too late — if it isn’t already too late. He didn’t agree with Merle on a lot of things, especially when it came to you, but that last remark rings true. It’d be laughable for him to delude himself into thinking you feel anything but platonic affection toward him.

Especially with the options you have here in Alexandria. It may have been slim pickings before, but now, you might as well have an entire buffet laid out. You’re bound to catch the eye of some of the folk around here. If you could get him to like you, he figures you could win over almost anyone. Why would you give him the time of day when there are those clean-shaven, college-educated men running around like they own the place? If the world hadn’t gone to shit, that’s probably who you would’ve gone for.

It’s only because the world went to shit that you even know his name.

Watching how some Alexandrians wave at you, a gesture you animatedly return, he reaches for another smoke.

His brother’s words echo in his head, falling somewhere between a taunt and a warning.

“She ain't ever gonna want you the same way you want her.”

He would do well to remember that, wouldn’t he?

-

If someone told Daryl he’d died and gone to heaven, he’d believe them.

You’re leaning against one of the porch’s pillars, humming a tune to yourself, not having noticed his presence yet. He decides to keep it that way if it means he gets to admire you a while longer. You’re wearing a dark blue dress (he can imagine you correcting him and calling it ‘indigo’ or some shit), looking like an angel incarnate beneath the moonlight. It’s such a simple garment, stopping right above your knees, but to him, you might as well be wearing a ball gown. You’ve got those white tennis shoes that he saw you furiously scrubbing grass stains off of earlier today, the outline of a knife tucked away in them. His chest swells with pride at the knowledge you’re always ready to take care of yourself, thanks in part to his teaching.

Eventually, he manages to break himself free from his you-induced reverie, calling out your name to catch your attention.

You spin on your heel, placing your hands on your hips at the sight of him. “There you are. I thought my ditching buddy ditched me.”

He has to stop himself from saying he’d cross a river of broken glass barefoot if you were standing on the other side, instead settling on, “Aaron and Eric invited me over, figured you’d still be at the party. Did I keep ya waiting long?”

“No, you didn’t, I’m just being dramatic,” you revert back to your usual posture and grin. “It’s good. That they invited you over and you accepted it, I mean. Aaron’s a cool guy. Eric is too, from what I can tell. You guys have some manly bonding time?”

He rolls his eyes at the teasing lilt in your voice. “Mhm, sat around chuggin’ beer and talking ‘bout sports for hours. You?”

“Nothing of much note went down, just a lot of handshaking. I did get stuck talking to one of Deanna’s son for a while, though. I had to practically jump through hoops of fire to escape.”

Daryl swallows down the unpleasant taste that revelation leaves in his mouth. “You don’t like ‘im?”

“He’s… fine, I guess? Harmless enough. Just a really dry conversationalist, which to me, is a cardinal sin,” you stretch your arm above your head and Daryl has to stop himself from staring at how your skirt lifts up, revealing more of your shapely legs. Shit, he really does drool over you. “Oh, you’ll get a kick out of this. He invited me to a game of croquet. I was joking about that earlier, turns out I was right on the money.”

“You’re shitting me,” he deadpans.

“As much as I wish I was, no. God. I knew they’d be a bit sheltered here, but this… I don’t know. It worries me. I wish I could tell myself they can keep living this way, because that’s what they’re doing. Living. They really don’t know how bad it is. And if the bad ever makes its way here…”

You trail off, not needing to fill in the gaps for Daryl to piece it together. He gets what you mean. The entire group does. Carol thinks they’re children and Rick’s ready to take over at the drop of a hat. No one aside from you has expressed concern about their wellbeing out loud, although it’d been in the back of his mind when he saw there were children and old folk here. It’s this compassion of yours that brings him in like a moth to light. After everything you’d been through, you had every right to become a bitter husk of the woman you once were, but you haven’t.

And he thanks the God he isn’t sure he believes in for it.

After a moment’s deliberation, he sets his hand on your shoulder and squeezes. “It ain’t too late for ‘em. You learned. So can they.”

“Well, it did help that I had an excellent teacher.”

He grumbles a ‘shut up’ despite wanting you to do anything but.

Silence sets in for a few beats then. It takes him longer to notice this than it usually would, his head caught up in the near-euphoric experience of receiving a compliment from you. He realizes that he has yet to take his hand off your shoulder and has undoubtedly let it linger too long. He clears his throat, detaching himself from your person with some reluctance, suddenly taking an acute interest in the floorboards you’re both standing on.

Why is it still silent, save for the buzz of cicadas and the chirps of grasshoppers? Shit, did he cross some invisible line in the sand?

“Daryl?”

He grunts at that, not trusting his voice when his thoughts are at war with one another.

“You really are a good man.”

His head shoots back up and he’s searching your countenance for any signs of deception. You’re always teasing one another, this could be another instance of that. However, when your eyes meet his, he sees nothing but unabashed admiration shining in them. He doesn’t think he deserves to be looked at that way, much less by you of all people. You were looking at him like he was the second coming of Christ or something. It makes his stomach do backflips and his poor heart might go into cardiac arrest.

He tries to dismiss your claim with a lighthearted ‘nah’, not because he can’t accept the compliment, but because he doesn’t think it’s true. If you knew the way he thought about you, you’d take your words right back. Look at him the way people have his entire life. Disgust, maybe some pity. Doing what anyone would’ve done doesn’t make him a saint, no matter how hard you and Carol try to argue otherwise.

“You might not believe it, but I hope me thinking so suffices in the meantime,” you say, doing that creepy mind-reading thing you tend to be good at. “I’m truly grateful I met you. You make this life worth living.”

Should you keep going on like this, you might make him well up with tears. He’s glad there aren’t any reflective surfaces nearby because he can’t fathom the expression must be making. What is this? What are you doing to him? Those soft, kissable lips of yours must’ve casted a spell. You’re reaching forward now, pressing your palm against his cheek, and he considers pinching himself to see if this is all a dream.

If it is, he might not want to wake up.

Out of some primal, base instinct, he leans down, wanting nothing more than anything to get a taste of you. It’s when his lips are a few inches from yours that his brother’s words come hurling his way, knocking him off balance and making him jerk backwards. He sees something flit over your face — hates himself for it, too — the sight further reinforcing the prophecy spoken over him.

You deserve more. You deserve some man who knows how to speak what’s on his mind, who doesn’t shy away the second a conversation gets the slightest bit personal. Daryl doesn’t know how to do that, he might never figure it out either. If he does try, you’d have to bear the brunt of his inexperience, and your patience is bound to run out. He can barely put up with it himself sometimes, he can’t fathom putting you through it too.

“Are you okay?”

You’re staring up at him, your eyebrows knitting together, a frown that he so desperately longs to kiss away on your lips. He should be the one asking you that. From your perspective, you must figure he’s rejecting you. And still, you don’t stomp off in a huff or put him down. The tenderness emanating from those three words melts his heart like snow come spring. He opens his mouth, then closes it, licking his lower lip while trying to decide the best approach. Catching those damn hogs back at the prison was easier than getting a few words dislodged from his throat.

“You… you’re sure?” Daryl winces at how unlike himself he sounds when whispering this. “You feel that way ‘bout me?”

The pad of your thumb runs over his cheekbone. “Mhm. Guilty as charged.”

No matter how nonchalant you’re trying to act, he can feel the way your hand shakes against him. See the lines of worry you try to cover with a smile. Hear your every shallow breath. This must be fucking terrifying for you, baring yourself before him like you did, granting him a glimpse of your heart. His mask is one of indifference and yours is one of charm. You’re trying to keep things light like all those times on the road. When he saw you tossing and turning in your sleep, fighting back tears when you thought no one was looking.

He knew. He’s always known. He just never knew what to do about it, how to provide the same comfort you gave others.

“I wanna look out for you,” Daryl’s larger hand envelops the one you’ve placed on his face, causing your eyebrows to raise ever so slightly. “Wanna… wanna keep you safe and smiling. Want you to feel like you can do more than that ‘round me too. You can cry, get angry. ‘S alright. I know. I know.”

Tears well up on your lower lash line, and maybe he should feel a bit guilty for thinking so, but damn, you look beautiful. “See? This is what I meant when I said you’re a good man.”

“Cut it with your shitty jokes, woman,” he knows his bark is worse than his bite when you laugh at him, tilting your head back and revealing more of that tempting neck of yours. He swears to burn this image into the recesses of his mind for as long as he lives. You’re being you, he’s being him, and there’s nothing better.

All his bravado slips through his fingers like sand when you stand up on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. You breathe a taunting command against the shell of his ear and he shivers.

“Make me.”

That successfully ignites the competitive streak you know he has.

For how coquettish you were acting, you return his kiss in a gentle manner, and he reciprocates the pace you set. His hands find their way to your waist without daring to go lower, no matter how loudly his instincts urge otherwise. He’d sooner breathe his last breath than make you feel uncomfortable. If this sweet kiss is all you want, he’d count himself a blessed man from this day forward. It’s you who parts first, leaning back just enough to give your lungs some much-needed air. You stare up at him through your eyelashes, giving him that look that would make him agree to anything you ask.

“Do you want… to take this inside?”

Your voice dies off toward the end and he swears his brain temporarily shut off at the implication. Barely a second earlier he was thinking how he’d die a happy man just for getting a simple kiss from you, he’d written off the possibility of anything more than that. He nods his head, his hand going to the small of your back to lead you inside, when you turn and start making for the front lawn.

Reading the confusion on his face, you explain, “We were given two houses, remember? It might be a better idea to use the empty one for this.”

Daryl really had forgotten the rest of the world exists when he was in that bubble with you. The streets may be empty, but who knows how long that welcoming party will last. He’s grateful one of you has a head clear enough to consider these things. You’re his smart girl for a reason.

“Ya plan this?” He can’t stop himself from asking when he half-jogs after you. The thoughts that run through his head when you bend over to pick up a key hidden beneath a welcome mat will stay between him and God. You slot it into place, turn, then open the door, beckoning him to follow with a finger. He feels his pants growing tighter by the second.

“I’d be a liar if I said yes, though I wish I could take credit for everything,” you lock the door behind him. “No… it just felt like it was time. I’d been waiting for my moment for ages. Guess I got a little impatient.”

Your back is up against the door the second that last word is out of your mouth. He takes your lips for his own again, something like a gasp leaving him when you lift a leg to curl around his waist. He steadies you with his hands to ensure you don’t fall over, the air in the room feeling thicker than those humid Georgian summers you spent together. When he senses you’re stable enough, he lifts one hand to cup your cheek like you did to him, pulling you as close as he physically can. Your arms are around his neck once more, playing with the ends of his hair that he’s grateful he washed hours prior. He hadn’t anticipated this, yet knowing he had plans to spend time with you gave him the motivation to clean up.

Rick teased him for it earlier. The former sheriff had walked in on him shaping up his beard, a knowing smile on his lips.

“Saw [First], didn’t you?”

“Shut up, man.”

Officer Friendly had called it. Carol gave him a nod that made him figure she knew it too. So much for being covert about his feelings for you. Deep down, he knew it must be obvious, the extensive special treatment he gave you. His brother wasn’t too far off with his pussy-whipped comment, crass or not. Daryl would offer you his last bite of rations, final sip of water, hell, he asked if you wanted him to carry you on the grueling walk to DC when everyone was at their wit’s end. You had given him a weak chuckle and said he wasn’t in any shape to do that.

Regardless of how true that was, had you said yes, he still would’ve found a way to make it happen.

You were that precious to him.

Daryl starts tugging the hem of your dress, revealing the tantalizing sight of your bare thighs beneath. Before he can pull it up any further, your hand is on his, and he stops in fear he’d done something wrong.

Those self-doubts are washed away by the sheer neediness in your next word. “Bedroom?”

You don’t need to ask him twice.

The noise you let out when he lifts you up has got to be one of the cutest damn things he’s ever heard. Your response is immediate, you encircle your limbs around him, clinging on like he’d ever dare to drop you. The house doesn’t have any lights on, but Daryl’s eyes are good in the dark. He carries you up the steps while you bury yourself in the crook of his neck. He finds an empty master bedroom, shuts and locks the door behind him, then brings you over to the queen-sized bed.

You start to take your sneakers off when he touches your wrist and shakes his head. Before you can question his intentions, he kneels in front of you, getting down on his hands and knees. This here is a gift you’re giving him. He’d be damned if he didn’t act accordingly. He takes your shoes off with a surprising amount of patience, pressing a chaste kiss to your shin when he’s done.

“You sure you’re alright with this?” His voice comes out deeper than he’s ever heard it. “That you want it?”

“I’m absolutely positive. I’ll even beg, if you ask nicely enough. I’m nice like that.”

He squeezes your thighs. “There you go, running that mouth o’ yours again.”

“You could always make it so I can’t.”

Daryl raises an eyebrow at the insinuation, his cock twitching inside his briefs at the mental image it conjures up. You, sitting pretty on your hands and knees, mouth open and waiting for him. Knowing you, you’d probably rile him up first. Kiss his tip and apply the bare minimum amount of pressure. Would you take him in slow? Lick him up and down the side while staring up at him with those gorgeous eyes?

Tempting as it is to find out, he’s got other plans in mind. He wants to see your face twist in pleasure and hear his name fall from your lips. It’d do his pride some good to know one as sought over as you chose him.

You start playing with the straps of your dress, pulling him from his fantasies. “Do you want to take this off, or should I?”

He bites his lower lip hard enough that it’s a miracle it doesn’t start bleeding. He had intended to unwrap the present before him, but when you put it like that… it makes him curious about the alternative. He’d love to see what little show you’d put on for him, he’s got front-row seats, after all.

“Alright. Let’s see it.”

Daryl gets up from his kneeling position and takes a seat beside you on the bed. You get the hint, standing with legs that wobble ever so slightly. You don’t look surprised when he chooses to poke fun at your current state.

“Woah there, you good? Legs still work?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Better than ever, thank you very much.”

He leans back, making himself comfortable for whatever comes next. “Mhm. Whatever you say, princess.”

At hearing the sarcastic nickname, you go stiff as a board. He catches the way your pupils dilate. You press your face into your hands to muffle a groan, hiding a very noticeably flustered expression from his prying eyes.

“I haven’t heard you call me that for ages. I think it may have awoken something in me,” you confess, pulling your hands away at his prompting. “I may or may not have developed the biggest crush on you when you called me that back at the prison. It got me riled up every time. Even if I was laying on my ass ‘cause you flipped me over for the umpteenth time that day.”

Daryl snorts at the memory. “Ya always did seem to be out for blood after I said it.”

He keeps the fact that he found your frustration cute. It was a hidden ace up his sleeve that he utilized when it looked like you were about to give up, his training regiment admittedly brutal. He couldn’t risk going easy on you with the world being the way it is. You’d be down on the grass, soaked in sweat, groaning for him to call it a day because ‘you think every bone in your body is broken’. Apparently, all it took was a little taunting for you to hop right back on your feet again.

Your competitive streak might be as bad as his.

“Did you like me then, Daryl?” You question, dropping the left shoulder strap just enough to give him a treat. “You must’ve, if you never shooed me away.”

Damn freakishly perceptive woman. “Why ya asking if you already know the answer?”

“Because your voice is the best sound I’ve ever heard. Can’t blame a girl for wanting to hear more of it.”

He grunts, unable to meet your eyes after an embarrassing proclamation like that, his face flushing. How is it you say half the stuff you do? You and your stupid silver tongue would be the death of him. There are worse ways to go, he figures. He struggles to keep his eyes focused on the wall when you lean forward, granting him an unrivaled sight of your cleavage. His embarrassment still slightly outweighs his burning desire to ogle you. Sensing this, you splay your fingers against his clothed chest. Slowly, ever so slowly, your hand ghosts upward. Over his jugular then settling on his jaw. You move his face until he’s looking you dead in the eye again.

“Hey handsome,” your voice pours over him, sweet and thick like honey, “Eyes over here. I get jealous rather easily.”

God, he hopes you don’t notice the goosebumps dotting his skin. Maybe you were a cross between an angel and a witch, what with your ability to enthrall him. His boxers have never felt more uncomfortable in his life. He balls his hands into fists by his side, utilizing every ounce of his self-control to stop himself from picking you up, throwing you on the bed, and utterly ravishing you.

“That so?”

“Mhm,” you confirm, the next strap falling victim to your ministrations. The front of your dress starts to slip down. His Adam's apple bobs from how thickly he swallows. The swell of your chest comes into view, pushed up by your nude-colored bra. His knuckles go white from how tight he’s grabbing the comforter to keep himself in check. You’re treating him to a show, it’d be rude to interrupt your performance now.

Without the support of the straps, the fabric continues falling, revealing more and more of your beautiful body for him. The wet patch of your panties isn’t lost on him — you’re relishing in every second like he is. While never looking away from him, your hands disappear behind your back, fiddling with your bra strap. He swears he’s never felt less like a man and more like a beast when he’s finally able to see your chest in its entirety.

You walk to him as if you have all the time in the world, your knees hitting the bed’s side not nearly fast enough for his liking. Finally, you take a seat on his lap, your crotch pressing perfectly against his. He lets out a low groan then, grateful for any pressure to relieve the near painful hard-on you’ve given him. His hands settle on your ass, grinding you against his clothed length, and you stifle a moan by biting down on your lower lip.

Daryl tuts, stopping before he’s even begun. “Nah, I don’t think so. Don’t go getting shy on me now, girl. Ain’t like ya.”

After a moment’s consideration, you nod your head, your eagerness apparently outweighing the shame he didn’t know you had. He grins at you, resuming his previous actions and earning those debauched noises he’s longed to hear. Your panties might be staining his jeans, but he can’t find it in himself to complain, he’d wear it like a damn badge of pride. You’re his woman now. He belongs to you as well — heart, mind, body, and soul — if you asked, he’d happily hand it over.

“It feel good? Hm?”

“Like everything I ever wanted and more,” you confess, the breathiness of your voice making his brain feel hazy. “You’re— god— I adore you, Daryl. You’re so good to me.”

His lips are on yours then, this kiss being the messiest yet. His tongue pokes at your lips, and when you part them, ready to receive whatever he’s willing to give, his tongue goes to explore the newfound territory. You taste sweet (is that chocolate?), like the best treat he’s ever been given. He swallows your little gasps and whimpers, giving your ass a firm squeeze to ground himself.

Daryl can’t believe this is really happening. That you want him as much as he wants you and have no qualms showing it. He might be drunk on lust, but there’s something else in there, a flavor he’s never experienced before you stumbled into his life. It’s sweeter than the chocolate, more addicting than the bottle.

He loves you. He has for the longest time.

He slows down his maneuvering of your body, letting you catch your breath and tuck a strand of hair behind his ear.

“You okay?” You ask in between huffs, peppering his hairline with featherlight kisses.

“Better than ever,” he repeats your words from earlier, albeit with a southern drawl. Faster than you can process it, he flips you over, kicking his shoes off to lord knows where. You get over your surprise fast enough and shuffle back to make room for him. He hovers above you, almost uncertain of where to start. You must be feeling particularly gracious, for you let him drink in the sight of you without making any smart comments. Your body is pure eye candy and he’d be damned if he didn’t get himself a nice taste.

His lips are feverish against your neck, alternating between bites and open-mouthed kisses. He’s finally able to lavish your chest in some well-deserved attention, his rough palms pressing against the flesh, feeling you up like his life depended on it. You, being the perfect creature you are, grind up against him, drawing out a growl from his throat.

“It alright if I mark you up?” He breathes against your skin in between kisses. “Show everyone you’re mine?”

“Yes, please do.”

Never one to deny you anything, especially when you ask so nicely, he gets to work leaving proof of this tryst on your neck. Little bruises start to form where he’s concentrated his attention, right above your racing pulse. Content with its appearance, his lips start adventuring down. He takes a nipple into his mouth and sucks, more than pleased at the gasp you let out in response. While his tongue swirls around you, his hand makes its way to the hem of your panties, the last clothing item keeping you from being entirely bare. He detaches himself from your chest with some reluctance, so he can witness this final barrier being torn away.

“If you look at me like that, I might just get embarrassed,” you laugh at the halfhearted glare he gives you for the comment. He supposes it wouldn’t be you if you weren’t actively trying to rile him up. You were coy like that, frequently looking for a way to get him going, not that he minded. It’s starting to add up in retrospect. You’d been flirting with him all this time, a fact that went right over his head.

“‘S fine by me. Would probably do you some good.”

Your eyes crinkle from how wide your smile is, unadulterated affection gleaming in your eyes. He can’t help himself — he bends down to peck your now pouting lips. Tempting as it is to kiss you silly for the remainder of the night, he’s a man on a mission. You lift your legs to help him get that final undergarment off. He sets it aside so you won’t have any difficulty finding it later. Then he’s drinking in the beauty that is your glistening folds, subconsciously licking his lips at such an appetizing display.

A soft call of his name breaks him from his stupor. “Hm?”

“Don’t, uh, feel like you have to do that,” you give him a sheepish glance. “It’s okay if you just want to, y’know.”

If he were a cruel man, he’d tease you until you squirmed for how adorable you’re acting, but he decides to have mercy. Gotta be gracious with the love of your life and all that. Still, he can’t help feeling slightly miffed you’d think he’s going to eat you out over some obligation. Your pleasure is his pleasure, your happiness is his happiness. He thought his desperation for you soaked into his every action since you confessed on that porch. Then he remembers he hasn’t got much room to talk, the voice of insecurity could be brought down to a whisper, yet never entirely silenced.

He gives your pelvis a kiss. “I wanna. Simple as that.”

Daryl’s reassurance comes out gruff, and while it might not be dripping with romance, it visibly puts you at ease. He doesn’t do anything until you nod. Then he’s in between your legs, feeling more at home by the second. He kisses you up your inner thigh, his beard tickling over the smooth expanse of skin. Finally, his tongue slips between his lips, pressing flat against your cunt. The way you shudder encourages him to repeat the action, testing the new waters with care.

His technique isn’t the most refined, but he’s eager, lapping you up with unmatched zeal. The wet sounds of him feasting himself on you fill the room, and he thinks it might be one of the best sounds to grace his ears. He alternates between licking you and pulling on your folds toward him slightly with his teeth. Whatever it is he’s doing, you seem to be enjoying it, if the way your legs go wide for him is any indicator. He pulls you flush against his mouth by your love handles, delighting in how you moan so prettily for him. He’d tried to imagine what you might sound like if he ever had a chance with you, what dulcet tones your voice would take on.

Those thoughts were enough to satisfy him on lonely nights, but they pale in comparison to the real thing. You’re a force of nature. So beguiling, so easy to love, that he’s once again reminded that it’s a miracle he’s the one you’ve chosen. Never has he felt so grateful. People had tried, yet you never went for it. Was he on your mind in those moments? Steering you away from anyone that isn’t him? He could only hope so.

Daryl pulls back, chuckling at the whine you let out at the loss. “Needy thing, ain’t ya?”

“Only for you.”

Once again, you prove to him that you always know what to say. You and your feminine wiles.

“Think you can handle my fingers?”

At this, you nod. He gathers your slick in his pointer and middle finger. He starts with his pointer finger, watching with something like awe as it eases inside you. Once he’s certain that it doesn't hurt, his middle finger is next, stretching out the walls that envelop him. A sinfully delightful sound is produced when he takes his fingers out and slides them back in. He eyes the slick coating his fingers, and after realizing he misses how you taste, dips his head back down to messily kiss your clit. Your hips are thrusting to meet his fingers halfway, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Close,” you breathe out in between moans, “I’m close.”

He hums against you, the low vibration adding to your mounting pleasure. He doesn’t care if his wrist hurts for the foreseeable future, he wants you to feel good, to completely unravel and show him he’s done a good job. The muscles in your thighs go tense and he hears you let out the most depraved whimper of his name. He doesn’t let up, hellbent on seeing you through the entirety of your high.

Your body goes limp as a ragdoll against the bed. Gently, you pull him back, combing your fingers through his tousled hair. He removes his fingers from you and plops them into his mouth, content to savor your taste a while longer. It’s second only to the taste of your lips. Once he’s finished cleaning them off, you guide his hand to your face, and he watches the act with muted confusion. He lets out a sound like a choke when your mouth wraps around his fingers, hollowing your cheeks while you do so.

“Christ, woman. You tryna kill me?”

A quiet pop sound resonates in the room when you detach yourself from him. “Of course not. I’m far too enamored with you.”

Daryl still can’t entirely fathom why exactly that is, but he keeps the thought to himself.

In his fervor, he neglected to shed his own clothes, a fault he works to remedy. There’s nothing he wants more than to feel your skin against his without any barriers. He stands up to make the process easier, starting with his vest, then the halfway decent shirt he picked for the night. Next is his buckle and jeans. He doesn’t have time to feel self-conscious, not when you’re laying there, waiting for him so well. The scars and other various imperfections marring his skin must be difficult to make out in the low light, anyway. He knows you wouldn’t judge him — he feels it in his bones — yet that’s a can of worms he’d prefer to leave for another day.

He lets out a sigh of relief when his cock is freed from its restraints. Copious amounts of pre-cum leak from the tip, a testimony to your influence on him. He gives himself a few strokes, yet stops when he releases how sensitive he is. He wants to make this last. He needs to make this last. He knows that every second he spends inside you is bound to feel like heaven on earth.

Daryl crawls over to you. You part your legs without him needing to ask, your eyes lidded and hair messily framing your face. He lines himself up at your entrance yet makes no movement beyond that. This isn’t an act that’s meant to be rushed through — no, he intends to savor every second as if it were his last. The intensity of his stare can only be matched by yours. It’s an intimate moment, this little reality you carved out together, apart from the struggle and anguish you’d both become so familiar with.

He knows it won’t magically go away. You know it too. But if you have one another, you can both start living again instead of surviving.

“Still sure you want this?”

“I’m sure,” you whisper in a voice meant for his ears and no one else’s. “Please.”

Daryl handles you with care he didn’t even know he was capable of. He begins to push into you, sucking in a breath while he does so, his eyes glued to your face for any signs of discomfort. Your warmth wraps around him and draws him in. When he’s halfway inside, your hand grabs his, fingers intertwining. He stops, rubbing circles into the top of your hand with his thumb, silently admiring every way your face contorts while adjusting to his length. You inhale and exhale shakily before nodding your head, giving his hand a squeeze. He groans when he’s sunk all the way inside you.

You both stay like that for a moment, breathing in each other’s air.

“Have I ever told you,” he almost sounds pained when he speaks, “That you’re fuckin’ gorgeous?”

You give him one of those melodious laughs that makes his heart do things. “This’d be the first time.”

“Won’t be the last.”

You crane your neck to give him a chaste kiss. He’s about to chase after your lips when you pull away, but the words you say next cause all his higher thought to temporarily cease. “You can move now. Fuck me, Daryl.”

He feels himself twitch inside you and curses under his breath. It’s slow at first, so he can gauge what sort of rhythm you might like. The roll of his hips is sensual, his admiration of your facial expressions bordering on worship. Your hands go to his back to find purchase, unintentionally pulling him even closer in the process, and he grunts. He sets a steady pace. You throw your head back into the pillow, letting all your pretty noises out for him unabashedly. Praises fall from your lips, reassuring him of how good he’s making you feel, and how you want everything he’s willing to give. The encouragement makes his chest swell with pride.

You chose him. Out of everyone you could’ve pursued, you gave your affection to him, and that knowledge alone almost feels better than the way your walls flutter around his length.

“I care about you,” he pants into your ear, a declaration that makes you whine. “Have for so long. Want— want to show you. How much you mean t’me.”

Daryl hears you try to muster up a response in between your gasps, but it’s no use, you’re too lost in the throes of pleasure. He notices the way your moans grow higher in pitch, the sound music to his ears. Utilizing what little brain power he has left, he figures you must be getting close. The fact you’re going to come undone around him spurs him on. His fingers find their way to your clit, rubbing rushed circles around it. You tighten around him and it takes all the strength he has not to collapse on you, lost in the dizzying feeling.

There’s no more precision to his movements, everything is messy and frenzied.

You let out a cry of his name, and then a high-pitched whimper of, “I’m—”

And just like that, you unravel for him, nails digging into his skin and hips thrusting forward to meet his. He wills himself to stave off his own release so that you can enjoy yours. The sight and sounds you let out might be the most erotic thing he’s ever seen, he etches every detail of it into his memory.

He loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

Daryl pulls out once he’s certain you’re done, fucking his fist like a man possessed. It doesn’t take much for him to come undone after witnessing what you just showed him. A gruff rendition of your name leaves his lips as he spills out onto his hand, his release coming out in spurts, coating his palm in white.

You both stay still for a few moments, taking the time to catch your breath. You’re the first to move, sluggishly at that, sitting up on your elbows and giving him a content smile. He’s about to cradle your face and put his forehead against yours when he recalls his release is still on his hand. He shifts to get up, noting the attached bathroom in this room. You stop him before he gets the chance, gingerly wrapping your fingers around his wrist, stilling his hand in the process. He gapes like a fish out of water as you lick the remnants off his skin, closing your eyes and humming as if it was the best thing you’d ever tasted.

When you finish helping yourself, you give each of his knuckles a kiss. “I think the bones in my legs are broken. For real this time.”

Daryl snorts at the callback to your prison days, fond nostalgia swirling in his head.

“Need me to carry ya?”

You outstretch your arms for him. “Yes, please.”

He knows you’re being dramatic but can’t bring himself to care. He lifts you up, taking care not to trip on any of the clothes strewn on the floor, then sets you down on the sink’s granite counter. You both help yourselves to some nearby washcloths to get cleaned off. He kisses your shoulder when you’re done. Once back inside the bedroom, he slides his boxers back on, and you, your undergarments. You throw your back onto the bed and stretch, letting out a cute little noise while you do so.

Daryl’s feeling exhausted himself, but he figures you both shouldn’t be missing for too long. It’d make the others worry.

“I’m claiming this as our bedroom,” you fluff out a pillow before laying it down. The way his heart skips a beat at your usage of the word ‘our’ almost embarrasses him. Almost. “I’m not going to let you keep sleeping out on the porch. It hurts my back just thinking about it.”

He makes his way back over to you, footsteps silent against the hardwood. The second he lays down, you’re cozying up against his side, resting your head on his chest. His arms wrap around your frame as if he’d done it a million times before. It’s divine, hearing your steady breathing, feeling the warmth of your body. Despite everything, you’re still here. So is he.

He’ll do anything to keep it that way.

You lift yourself up to get a good look at him, your hair tickling his face. “Hey.”

He grunts to prove he’s listening.

“I love you,” you give him a kiss on his forehead, then his nose, and finally, his lips. “Thank you for letting me.”

The words from his brother on that sweltering day breathe down his neck. For some reason, the specific verbiage can’t form in his mind, it’s more of a muffled voice coming from another room. The sentiment is still there. Piercing, meant to hurt his heart in ways a weapon never could. That deep of a wound won’t heal itself overnight, yet if you’re the one holding the thread and needle, he thinks it can finally start closing.

He only whispers his next words when you press your forehead against his.

“I love you too. More ‘n anything.”

There’s a mischievous glimmer in your eyes which makes him nervous. Uh oh. He knows that look.

“… Enough to be my croquet partner tomorrow at noon?”

“Hell no.”

Unfortunately for him, you know as well as he does that if you keep asking nice enough, he’s bound to give in eventually.

He always does.

[theminecraftbox]

Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:

Sam can't get to sleep in the prison

—

This is such a waste of time.

—

Sam likes Pandora’s Vault.

It’s a simple thought. It’s a more simple thought than it ever had any right to be in the months, now more than a year, since its conception.

In some of those months, that concept—the liking—was too difficult to look at head-on. Maybe Sam lacked conviction. But no, he’s sure that was never the problem. There was something else, some different tremble to his limbs and shiver in his gut, something else that twisted his stomach into knots, something that made Sam wish he’d believed otherwise. But he knows he never did, just like he knows that every day he looked forward to Quackity’s visits. Perhaps it’s because he’s a harder man now that he’s facing down the real possibility of his own death.

Sam stares at the obsidian. When he’s finished with his books, with his pointless notes, and when the sound of his own voice has petered out, there is little else to do. In some ways, it’s fascinating. Harder than iron, harder than diamond. He built this cell: he did that. Every inch in here, wrought by him, for its all-consuming purpose. Every imperfection has been varnished to an unyielding finish. Every chip where a pickaxe or sword was wielded with imprecision is just another a facet in a jewel. The cauldron is clean, but Sam can see the shadow of the stains, like an opalescent sheen.

He leans against the corner of the cell and tries to sleep. In this spot, Dream is nearly, achingly, tangible.

There is no routine to chain him to his purpose. He is without purpose, within purpose, buried in the belly of his own beast.

He is hungry. His own beast has come to gnaw at him.

—

I am not an idiot.

——

Sam has sharpened his regrets into a crystalline clarity. Dream is not among them. What lies he has told and what acts he has permitted, in these walls and beyond them, has sent a message and has been in the service of a purpose Sam can never regret.

What had Dream felt, in that moment of betrayal? What had Dream felt when he was led into the prison, Punz at his back, Sam at his front? It’s dizzying to consider. Sam's never thought of it before.

Today, Sam reached for Dream and Dream stepped back. It only took a moment. What was so close at hand is impossibly far. What was impossible is within his grasp. Dream has struck him, exactly once, like a chastisement, but to Sam it felt like a vindication.

——

I am not the bad guy. Dream is the bad guy.

————

Sam wishes that Dream’s visits were announced by more than the pop of a pearl. He’s just as grateful that they aren’t, though, that the mechanisms of his machine have not been suborned, that at least one thing remains loyal to him. No bargains there.

He wishes he could see the bed beyond the lava. He thinks he could actually get some sleep there. Something about the sounds from that side always calmed him. It was solitude and reassurance all at once. He couldn’t hear Dream over the lava—not when he wasn’t screaming or hysterical—but the knowledge was enough.

————

I’m gonna die.

—————

Dream has gained weight.

It’s the first thing Sam noticed: the spare lines of him filled out, the gaunt angles in his face blunted. Not a bad look, though the sharpness of him, like a wolf, was always something Sam appreciated.

Sam can still see the marks on Dream, in the unevenness of his gait, the missing fingers, the scars on his skin. He can still see the wolf under the surface, animal in its hunger. Sam can still see what the Warden has wrought of him, the sculpted shapes underpinning the image of a man who is now free.

He never would have left Dream to starve. He never would have left Dream to Quackity. He didn’t, did he? He’s saved Dream. Every day in this place, over and over, he saved Dream. Dream didn't need to ask. Plenty of times, he spurned Sam, spat at him, threw his food and his comforts into the lava, squirmed away from his hands, his potions.

And the cell has been kept ready for him, and Dream has returned to it. It's almost enough to make Sam not feel lost. Dream is here. Dream is fine. Sam is fine too.

It’s coming towards a conclusion. Hurtling. Sam can feel it, maybe Dream can feel it too. The clock is inexorable. It’s his last night here: tomorrow this place will be Dream’s.

It’ll still be his, theirs.

—————

It’s almost time.

——————

[carefulfears]

top ten mulder moments <3

DREAM ASSIGNMENT, UNHINGING MY JAW, ETC. buckle up babes!

1/ oubliette

all of oubliette really but there’s this one moment where he’s in the police station and he’s watching the video of lucy when she was 13 after escaping her kidnapper and she’s writhing around on the floor screaming and she can barely speak full sentences and she’s afraid of the light. and in the present day, she’s an addict living in a halfway house with convictions for drug possession and prostitution.

and he’s watching this tape and scully comes in and he says “it’s amazing she’s gotten anywhere in life” and scully says “by most yardsticks, she hasn’t.”

she has, though. she’s alive and she’s trying and she’s clean and passing her drug tests and she has a job. and that’s how he sees her, and that’s how he treats her throughout the episode. he tells her that she’s “the strong one” and he asks for her help and her opinion, he tells her that he just wants to know what she’s going through. he defends her to law enforcement and believes her when everyone else thinks she’s an accomplice. he weeps over her body when she dies, grieves the loss of her life.

it would be easy for him, as someone whose sister was kidnapped at the same age lucy was, to see her as a nightmare. she’s struggling and she’s traumatized and she’s an addict and a felon. but he doesn’t, he views her as hopeful, and you can tell that he respects her. he views her as having gotten somewhere in life, just because she’s still alive. and that more than anything really means a lot to me.

2/ paper hearts

in paper hearts when they find the 15th victim’s body and they think it’s samantha. and he’s standing there over it, shaking, looking down at what might be his baby sister’s corpse. what might be the end of the road.

and it might all be over, in this moment. he might not be able to search anymore, to hope anymore, to do the only thing he’s ever done every day for 24 years anymore.

and you just feel the crushing weight of it all, and then scully comes in with the lab results and says that it isn’t her. and he just buckles for a moment and takes a breath.

before standing up and saying, “it’s somebody though.”

it’s such a testament to his character to me, that he can’t sit in that relief for even a minute. it might not be his baby sister, but it’s somebody, and he grieves for them.

(not “somebody’s sister/daughter,” but somebody)

3/ one breath

the shot of him crying on the floor of his ransacked apartment.

he was offered a choice between staying there, waiting to see the bad guys, finding the only thing he’s ever wanted, the answers…and going to sit by scully’s hospital bed, when it might be the end.

and he left that apartment and held her hand.

as moving as that scene is, it’s the aftermath that always gets me. it’s the consequences. it’s the price that you pay for choosing to stay soft, the way that mr. x looks at him in this same episode and tells him that he’ll never win, he doesn’t have the heart.

so he walks away from the battle and comes back to the wreckage, and all he can do is sit down on the floor and weep.

(also if i think even a little about him giving scully the superstars of the super bowl tape, i’ll literally make myself ill crying)

4/ sein und zeit

when, after spending the entire episode obsessively insisting to everyone who will listen that the missing little girl is “not dead,” he says that they should just go home.

that they are not going to find those people’s daughter alive, that he is too close to this case to make a sound judgement, and that he wants to take some time away from work.

seven years after scully chased him into the street and yelled for him to “stop running after” samantha, and a day after she followed him into a hallway to tell him to not go looking for something he doesn’t want to find, the person whose “relentlessness” has kept him searching for nearly 30 years, just wants to go home.

he’s depended for so many years on the delusion, on the hope, on the belief that every child to go missing from their home is “not dead.” and now he stares at the ground in front of two people who love him, and admits to being wrong. to needing a break.

it’s one of the saddest moments of the series to me, but there is such an acceptance in admitting defeat, and it’s a subtle precursor to his decision in the following episode that he’s ready to know the truth about what happened to samantha. the delusion isn’t helping anyone. not him, not samantha, not this missing little girl. and it’s devastating and freeing at the same time.

5/ je souhaite

his genie wish. i have the softest spot in my heart for je souhaite mulder okay!! this is the mulder that called the jersey devil “beautiful” and ran through the woods to try to save it. the mulder that couldn’t bear to add to the soul eater monster’s suffering, even when it would’ve saved his own life.

i love that the first thing he does is ask the genie what she would wish for, just because he wants to know. and you can see how much 500 years of being a slave to people’s selfish desires has weighed on her, in the way she tells him that she would just want her days to be her own. to sit and have a cup of coffee.

i love that he tries to win at the genie wish, to save the world. tries to construct the perfect wording and all-encompassing fool-proof plan. throws around words like ending “tyranny.” and in the end, just deletes it all, and wishes for the genie to be free. that ending shot of her, finally her own person for the first time in 500 years, sitting having a cup of coffee, is one of my favorite moments of the series.

i love the lesson in this episode too, for someone who spends his whole life trying to make up for the fact that he lived when his sister didn’t, that he doesn’t have to figure out how to save the entire world. he can call his best friend and sit on his couch and watch caddyshack. but he asks the genie what she would wish for, because he genuinely cares, and he chooses to use his wish to give it to her, because he can do that.

6/ pilot

these tags: “this man is overflowing with reverent tenderness.”

the Moment™️ in his motel room…this is when you can see it. this is when both scully and the audience understand something. this is when it’s all over.

they’ve both been kind of concealing so much, behind sarcasm or professionalism. they really like each other. they want to trust each other. but she was sent to spy on him, to debunk him, and neither of them have any reason to believe it’ll be more than that.

when the power goes out and scully feels the marks on her back, she is just so scared. she is so young, and this is her first job, and she’s becoming exposed to things that she had never considered. when she walks into mulder’s motel room in only her robe, and then drops it, she’s afraid, and also acutely aware of her own vulnerability.

the way the camera hangs on his face (he’s the focus, not her exposure, what is he seeing?), in the candlelight, as she exposes her body to him and he just checks to make sure she’s okay.

what he’s seeing is her vulnerability, and he responds by both sheltering and matching it; he wraps her up and gives her the bed, sits below her on the floor. he tells her about sam. he tells her about what “matters” to him. and it isn’t something that he tells people, but anxiously walking mostly-naked into the room of your new assignment isn’t something that she does either, and he understands that.

it’s 2 episodes later in squeeze when scully makes her decision, she’s “on the side of the victim,” on the side of the vulnerable. but it’s a motel room in bellefleur where she learns what that side is, where that work is being done.

(related, conduit: the way that he shuts scully's concerns about him down, then validates them quietly, when they're alone. tells her what his life actually is. that it's "walking into that room," every day, feeling like maybe one day he'll open his eyes and his sister would be there. you really get the sense that he's never told anyone that before, but that it's something he turns over in his mind, something he's always aware of. he's saying: you're right, this is what i do, but i don't know how to do anything different. how am i meant to do anything different? it has always been this way. and it's the only thing that you need to hear him say to really get it. it's the only thing that scully needed to hear him say. this is the most vulnerable revelation that he ever makes, a month into their partnership. she never forgets it.)

7/ anasazi

just a little moment that i think about a lot is the way that after mulder sees his dad in colony and tries to hug him, and gets cut off with a handshake, the next time that he sees bill, in anasazi, he reaches out to shake his hand.

he notices everything, he internalizes everything, he only wants to give what he understands as wanted from him.

he knows that his dad does not want to hug him, and he still reaches to him first, offers that connection that bill is comfortable with.

(it always makes me think of the first time he met jackson. the way that the first thing he did after “my name is mulder, i’m your father. i know it must seem strange to you.” was hug him… “became a father while i was still a son,” or whatever the national said.)

8/ emily

you guys. you guys 🥺. this whole episode just really gets me so bad. the way emily is “shy” and doesn’t speak or really look at anyone, and the only time we see her smile is when mulder makes her laugh, as soon as she met him. him yelling at the doctor (i love that the show, through mulder, actually says the term “medical rapists.” like yes let’s call it what it fucking is!) and saying he wants everything that could help her. when emily's sick, and mulder instantly picks her up to hold her.

but the moment to me, the one that stays with me, is the very end. it's the funeral. it's when all is said and done. and scully asks...who could do this? who could bring a life into this world whose only purpose is to die? and mulder answers, "i don't know. but that you found her, and had a chance to love her...maybe she was meant for that too."

he looks at a person who was created to be used for other's gain, literally manufactured intentionally to suffer and then die, and he believes...maybe that's not all that she was meant for. maybe she was still meant to be known, to be found, to be loved. and they did love her.

(the way he shows up late to the funeral, but scully knows he's coming to get her, tells her mom she's going to ride back with him. the way he turns away from the casket, never able to look loss in the eye, but turns back so scully isn't in it alone. the way he brings flowers, like he brought flowers to the hospital when scully was diagnosed, like he stopped to bring flowers to missy's grave.)

9/ beyond the sea + lazarus

my father is dead (long live my father!)

y’all ever think about how sparingly and intentionally mulder says “dana”? y’all ever think about how she’d only ever been “scully,” to him, until “how are you, dana?” the day of her father’s funeral? the way she looked up at him, as he gently touched her cheek.

the first thing that scully does after her father dies, is tell mulder that she believes in a psychic. (“i thought that you would be pleased that i opened myself to extreme possibilities”).

the first thing that mulder does is sit down, lower himself beneath her, (he has done this since the motel room in bellefleur, the day they met), and look up to her to ask: “does this have to do with your father? you said that he didn't approve of you becoming an FBI agent. now, if being on the job now makes you feel guilty or uncomfortable or uneasy, i think you should back away. because if it’s clouding your judgment, you’re putting yourself in danger.”

(he is always listening, he is always more aware than people think. he perceives her attempts to “please” him as dangerous, or uncomfortable for her. encourages her to step back.)

when she starts to cry and walks across the room, she’s dana again. she’s not her father’s “starbuck,” she’s not mulder’s “scully.”

“dana…open yourself up to extreme possibilities, only when they’re the truth.”

in lazarus, it’s only 2 episodes later (2 episodes after “i’m afraid to believe”) when jack willis dies. (“along the way, there are other fathers.”)

mulder spent that whole fucking episode doing his lil tricks and tips and pulling out his lil experts trying to convince her that jack had been body-swapped, including the story about watches stopping at time of death. when jack dies, and all that’s left is the watch she had given him, stopped at the same time as his heart, she looks up to mulder for answers so softly.

and his response: “it means…it means whatever you want it to mean. goodnight.”

he spends his life begging for belief, but never at the cost of her integrity, her peace. he cannot be “pleased” by a forgoing of self, a forgoing of what she’s ready for.

(looking at this now, it also reminds me of irresistible, and the way that he told her that it’s understandable to be upset, to be affected. “i’ve seen agents with 20 years fall apart on cases like this.” it’s not because she’s young, it’s not because she’s inexperienced, it’s not because she’s traumatized. it’s because she’s human. and it’s good, it’s right.)

10/ redux ii

my favorite moment of this episode is when scully sees mulder through the window of her hospital room for the first time, and he plasters that smile on his face, comes in to sit on the bed and hold her hand and kiss her cheek. and she keeps trying to ask him about the conspiracy, about what happened at the pentagon, about who the inside man at the FBI is, and he just keeps quietly telling her that he's not there to talk about that. and she keeps pushing questions until he leans in to her and smiles and says... "hey, scully, how 'bout those yankees?"

hey, scully, it's not about that. for as many years as he's gone doing nothing but obsessing over conspiracies to anyone who will listen, he isn't there to talk about conspiracies. he's there to hold her hand, to keep that smile on his face so maybe she won't worry, to break down by her bedside as soon as she's asleep. he just wants to spend time with her. in reduxes, they aren't ahab and starbuck. they aren't charging forward or dutifully shepherding on. they're buckling in hallways. they're clinging to a hand through tears.

there is just no room: for their roles, for their pretenses, in the end. in this moment, he isn't the "mad captain" who cares about nothing more than the quest. he's the man who walked away from the fight so that he could sit next to her, who gave up all of his answers so that she could see her sister one last time. he's the man who "refused to believe" that she was dying, but still celebrated her birthday that year for the first time ever, just so that she would have it. and in that hospital room, at the end, through teary eyes and shaky smiles, it just isn't about anything bigger. she doesn't have to die as dutiful to the cause, for him to be there with her.

(the final shot of this episode is one of my favorites too. when scully is cured, she is going to live, her family is in her room celebrating with her, and mulder is crying alone in the hall.

these tags: "all his open love and loneliness and numbness and fear of loss. he's such a gentle man. he kills but he is gentle in his heart. he takes so many beatings and he listens quietly and has no shame. it's hard for him to play the games men play. this ending. he just found out scully is going to live. and everyone else is in there with her. and he has to sit outside. and it all hits him in one go. his sister. his parents. scully. his wasted years. his stupidity and arrogance. how many times has this happened to one of us. you grit your teeth and get through unimaginable difficulty. and then when it's all over you can't celebrate. it hits you on your own in a terrible way."

i always think of that. i always think of superstars of the superbowl. i always think of how ill-equipped and in-adequate we are, when it comes down to it, to deal with grief and trauma and loss. how "we bury our dead alive." and in the end it's "the best news" he ever could've heard, and that steady smile is reduced to sobs.)

honorable mention from paper hearts: i fear that i simply have to talk about him shooting roche in the head...did everybody see him shoot roche in the head? i thought him shooting roche in the head was lovely. you can watch it tear him apart, leading up to the moment. roche sitting in front of him, taunting him. how sure are you? you'll never know without me. but ultimately, he looks over at caitlyn, and he can't risk it. he had told caitlyn, "my name is fox, i'm gonna take you home." and then he did, even when ensuring she was found safe and well, meant sacrificing everything he'd been looking for.

the transition from that moment on the bus (roche's blood on the windows, caitlyn's screams, mulder's gun) to the walls of the basement office...the way the camera slowly pans over the UFO articles. the "i want to believe." the mysteries. all of that wishful thinking (as roche had said earlier: "it's like you think your world will be okay as long as you can believe in like...flying saucers") contrasted to the flesh and blood of the evil he's trying to escape. and, in the end, all there is left is one heart in front of him. one last victim that he'll never know the truth about, because he wasn't willing to risk the price paid for answers.

(and then scully says...but we will find her. how? "i don't know. but i do know you.")

honorable mention from oubliette: my top 2 episodes do be my top 2 episodes but there are few moments in this series that just make my heart sink to my stomach more than the image of mulder crying over lucy's body...that triptych line: "mulder who still grimaced at cadavers and cried over the bodies of dead women where most men she knew couldn't muster the wherewithal to appear disturbed."

lightning round appreciation for my favorite little tiny moments we don't talk about enough: casually giving his hotel key to the unhoused man in the jersey devil; holding kevin and telling him he knows he just wants his sister back in conduit; helping roland pick out a shirt to wear ("i think this one would look stylin' today, what do you think?") in roland; going back in for the kids even though he's afraid/had failed before, in fire; marty saying she "just knew" he would be at her sentencing, even though she couldn't see him, in mind's eye; taking scully to the liberty bell, after she complained about wanting a life outside of work, in shadows; when cassandra told him that reading news stories about him saved her life, because no one would ever believe her, until she found out about him, in patient x; telling skinner to get marita off the stand, "no. let her go," even though her testimony was the only thing that could save him, in the truth; telling off the sheriff in conduit who said it was "only a matter of time" before "something bad" happened to ruby because she "was no prom queen"; telling scully that he doesn't care if she comes with him or not, but he's not giving up on ruby "until they find a body."