#i see it only from lurking and it fucking JOLTS me

[nastyaromatherapy]

Brother's best friend (18+)

You see Nate, who you're not so fond of, at your house hanging out with your brother.

do i have many Ethan requests currently? yes. but am i currently salivating, thirsting, and barking for nate? yes.

pairing - bbf!nate jacobs x fem!reader

one shot length, 1.4k+ word fic

warnings: PIV, nate's kind of the worst obvi, nate says the r-slur, nate's like graduated highschool by now, uhh idfk creampie ig

The stench wafting out of your brother's room was disgusting, the fumes infiltrated your nostrils when you walked through the hall to get your laundry. You tried to ignore him and his friends over their yelling which was damn near impossible, who knows what the fuck they did in there. All you knew is that it was stinky, sweaty, and weirdly horny.

You shuffled your way into the laundry room and started loading the machine. Somehow the smell of your dirty clothes was more tolerable than his room. Suddenly the noises from the musty dump got louder, signifying that the door had opened. You paid no mind, not wanting to see him or Daniel, or whoever else was lurking in that place.

You had just about finished loading the washer until you heard a voice. "Forgot something?" You turned around and looked up to see Nate with a pink thong dangling from his fingers. "Thanks," you said with annoyance. You yanked it from his fingers to throw it in the drum.

Nate was hot, a grade above you, but you still disliked him with rationality. In your junior year he catfished you, leading you to embarrass yourself in front of the person that you thought you were texting, and then you became a joke amongst his friend group.

He stood behind you as you threw in tide pods and started the machine. You turned around and he was still there. "That the same pair you wore in that one pic?" You rolled your eyes, "Which one?" He chuckled to himself. "The fact you have to ask 'which one' is laughable." You scoffed and stormed out of the room, brushing past him.

"When will you stop being mad at me?" He called out, making you turn around. "It's been a year, c'mon everyone's forgotten." He spoke. "Not you apparently! Maybe if you stopped being a total dick, we'd be neutral like how I am with the rest of my brother's friends." You huffed and walked to your room with him following behind. "Okay, okay y/n, I'm sorry." He said as he leaned against your doorframe.

"Whatever Nate, why do you want my forgiveness so bad anyways? Just go back and hang out with my brother." You said while straightening random trinkets on your dresser. "Because, y'know, I want to be neutral with you. Besides, I'd be lying if I said I haven't jacked off at least once to those photos-" "Oh my god Nate, ew! Just get your perverted ass out of my fucking room!" You yelled, attempting to push his tall frame out to no avail.

He looked down at you, finding the power difference endearing. "It's not my fault you're perfect," he purred, making you soil your your panties. You always loved when he complimented you. You swallowed as you looked up at him. "My brother's gonna wonder where you are so, you should y'know, before he comes looking for you." He shakes his head. "Your brother's retarded, he's not gonna wonder shit." He said as his hands reached to shut your door.

"Nate," you whispered before he leaned down to kiss you. You internally gasped as your hands found their way to his cheeks, and his traveled to grope your ass through the oversized tee you drowned in. The groans he let escape into your mouth was enough to make you completely drench your panties, your other hand reaching for his shirtless chest. The two of you traveled to your bed, not breaking the kiss, only casually coming up for air.

You were positioned at the bottom, head resting on your pillow with him above you. He slipped his tongue into your mouth just as he slipped his hand underneath your shirt, fingers making their way to your heavy clit. You whimpered and jolted at the connection, inching your legs wider for him. He rubbed circles around your bulging clit through the panties whilst his tongue journeyed through your mouth.

"Nate, please," you whimpered into his mouth. He pulled away leaving your mouth agape as he lifted your tee over your head. "Fuck," he whispered to himself. You sat up to kiss him as he grasped your tits, kneading them and squeezing on your nipples. You moaned into his mouth from the friction as you reached down to his crotch. He groaned when he felt your hand on his erection. You broke the kiss to unbutton his pants, pulling them down as you licked your lips. You eyed his length through his Calvin Kleins and massaged him through the fabric.

He moaned from your touch, biting his lip as he looked down at your hand. You reached your hand in to stretch the waistband and pull his cock out. His chest rose and fell as you leaned down to lick his shaft before swallowing him. He bit back a whimper as you took him deep into your mouth. Your soft plush lips wrapped around his shaft like a ring that slid up and down his girthy length. Your doe eyes met his dark ones as your cheeks hollowed, making you moan around his cock.

"Fuck, I always knew you were a slut from those photos," He said between grunts. Your eyebrows furrowed as you breathed heavily through your nose, stomach churning from how aroused you were. Vibrations were sent up his cock from your moans, making him twitch in your mouth. "Shit you're gonna make me cum," he whispered before painting your mouth white. You slid off of him, letting the cum canopy over the rest of his length, making a mess on your bed.

After catching his breath, he fisted your hair in his hands to pull you up to him to interlock lips. He grimaced at the taste of his bitter cum on your lips as his tongue grazed yours, his hands again toying with your perky nipples. "Why'd b/n have to have such a hot sister," he whispered, making your hole flutter. "Maybe so you'd have something fun to do in his godforsaken tomb." You smirked against his lips before he laid you down back onto your mattress.

He spread your legs, eyeing that darkened, damp patch on your panties. You closed your eyes, slightly embarrassed by your physical arousal. He pulled them down, a string of natural lubricant following behind. You stretched your legs in the air and opened them wider, letting him view your glistening pussy.

He tapped his tip atop your sticky folds, his cock already covered in cum. You whimpered at the contact, and he smiled a smug smirk at your reaction. "Yeah, you want it?" He whispered condescendingly. "Yes Nate, please! I need you so bad," you begged. He lined his cock up with your gaping entrance before plunging in. You moaned out as your pussy stretched to accommodate his length. You moaned out with every thrust of his hips, not doing your best at keeping quiet.

He chuckled at himself whenever you cried out when he went deep, his tip grazing your sensitive cervix. "Such a slut taking one of your brother's friend's cocks, yeah?" He groaned as he pistoned himself in and out of your pussy. Your hole was sloppy and wet, and a ring of his previous cum formed around his base. "Please don't stop Nate, it feels s'good," you slurred out.

He slapped your tits making you yelp and leaned down to suck on your lips. You moaned into his mouth as his cock fucked your pussy animalistically. "'Pussy's so fucking good," he groaned against your lips. "You gonna touch yourself whenever I'm on my way to hang out with your brother? Gonna pull me away so I can fill you up with my cum like the good slut you are?" He asked. "Mhm, yes Nate, I'm gonna need your cock everyday," you moaned, clenching around his length. "Good fucking girl," he groaned.

Your stomach twisted and you found yourself throbbing around his length, close to cumming. "Nate, I'm s'close," you whimpered out. "Fuck, cum for me baby," he grunted through his teeth, making you unravel all around his cock, your cum dripping like warm honey on his length. With one final thrust he came too, shooting his load into your tight cunt. He pulled out and watched the mix of cum spill out of you, leaving a puddle on the sheets, and your hole that was left gaping.

***

The two of you put your clothes back on and he walked out of your room. Your brother notices him from the hallway and finally wonders where he's been. "Nate, dude, where the hell were you?" He just smugly shrugged. "Bathroom, jacking off to your sister," he starts, looking back at you. "She's fucking hot." You scoffed, "Gross," before closing your door.

[he-goes-down]

Hiii I don’t know if you take requests if you don’t I’m so very sorry but could you maybe make one where axl caughts reader his gf masturbating when he comes home from tour and then smut ??❤️

OFC! AND I DO TAKE REQUESTS DONT FRET 🫶

YOURE THE SWEETEST DONT BE SORRY

Masterlist

Speedin’ Back To My Baby

Pairing: Axl Rose x Reader

Warnings: smut, masterbating unprotected p in v, dirty talk

Second Person POV:

Axl had been gone out this tour for longer than you could stand. You missed him deeply. Needing and wanting him every night before you go to be as your mind starts to drift off. The only other option to fix your needs was doing it yourself.

It was late night, your boyfriend had made it a point to come back a day earlier to surprise you. Flowers in hand, creeping into the house. Getting closer to your shared room. But as he got closer he heard you. Heard you moaning. Rage began to fill his veins. Were you cheating on him? If you were he was going to make this new guy have hell to pay. He lurked and peaked into your room, but only to find alone, with your fingers. He watched as you pleased yourself, mumbling and whining his name as your hips bucked up into your hand. “Shit…” he groaned silently, watching the pornographic scene in-front of him. Your heard the small grunt he made and looked in the direction only to find Axl’s piercing eyes staring at you. You screamed in surprise and your first instinct was to cover yourself up. “Ax- you’re back…?” You breathed out. “See you were having fun without me.” He smirked as he set the flowers down on the end table and came to sit next to your semi naked self. “I was just-…” “Mmm, save the excuses for later, I heard everything and I’m back for you.” He spoke lowly as he kissed your neck trailing up to your cheek and smirking against the skin as he spoke.

As much as he would have loved to see you please yourself as your thought of him, he needed you, he’s been needing you for the past few weeks, and you have been needing him.

Axl’s hand went up your bare thigh, getting closer and closer to your heat until he was spreading your folds and interesting his two fingers in you. “So wet… just for me. Fuck” he cursed before his mouth attached to yours and you began to kiss like it was your last one. You whined his name against him as he finger fucked your pussy. Needing to spread you out as you haven’t been filled in weeks. “Oh- Fuck-…” you moaned against his luscious lips, feeling your climax as you were nearly there before Axl came in. “Axl… fuck- I’m gonna…” as you were about to cum, Axl took out his fingers, removing any friction you needed to finish. “You can cum all over my dick as many times as you want honey, no use for fingers.” He told you as he crawled over you and kissed your cheek while you breathed hard at him denying your orgasm.

Axl took off his clothes and additionally taking off your pj shirt. “I missed this.” He said as his eyes wondered every nook and cranny of your body, like it’s his first time ever seeing you. “Axl just fuck me.” You whined, your body burned and your stomach felt empty, your body aching and pleading to cum. “Say no more baby.” He said cocking his head. Taking your lags and pushing them back slightly, positioning himself to your soaking wet entrance. He bent dien to kiss you before he pushed past your folds with a snap of your hips together and a slap echoing from it. You jolted as a shock sent through your body as he directly hit your good spot. You moaned and screamed loudly as he began to pound his dick into you. Your legs pushed further back even more, wanting to get a perfect angle. “Bet no fucking fingers made you scream this loud.” He grunted into your ear. “My little fucking slut.” You moaned again at his comment. “Hm? Thinking if me when you cum? Mmm so fucking dirty.” He thrusted more roughly with each pound to your pussy as he spoke his words. You gripped with one hand around the back if his beck and the other clutching the sheets. Shaking as you came all over his dick. And along with it, your tight clench milked Axl’s orgasm out harder. “Fuck baby!-“ he yelled as he came all inside you, walls coated in white and leaking out onto the sheets.

“Such a needy little slut.”

A/n: its 3am and my eyes keep closing i cant focus but here’s your content goodnight

Sorry if it’s kaka. 🙁🫶

SOOEDIDNG BACK TI MY BABY AND I DINT MEAN MAYBEER

[starstruckkittensweets]

"Promise Me" | Gojo x Reader

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Reader Words: 2.3k

A/N: no one talk to me, this is my way of coping with the latest chapter. This week is not a fun one for us Gojo lovers. Also this scenario has probably been written a thousand times at this point (thanks a lot Gege) but here's my two cents on the matter (go figure, my first official Gojo post and he's fuckin dead)

Warnings: JJK 236 SPOILERS, mentions of fem!reader, nightmares, brief mentions of violence/gore, pet names (baby, sweets, pretty girl), very self-indulgent and I apologize for that

Nightmares are a common occurrence in your line of work; you knew that even before you agreed to take the job. Usually you can stand them when they hit. Staring into the shadows of your bedroom, wide eyes raking over every little thing inside, too scared to even move a muscle. Knowing that, once you do, the illusion will vanish. The fear will go away, bit by bit, until you feel comfortable enough to fall back asleep.

Till the next morning, when you can’t even remember what you were so afraid of.

But this time is different. Your body isn’t frozen at all; you don’t snuggle deeper into the blankets, praying that they’ll be enough to protect you from whatever creatures lurk in the night. In fact they’re suffocating—but even when you throw them off you’re still heaving like a madman. Cold sweat clamming up your skin. Hands trembling at your sides. Eyes nearly bursting from your skull when you realize the other side of the bed is empty.

Empty, empty—where is he? Where did he go?

Was your dream not actually a dream after all?

You’re shaking so hard when you force your way out of bed. Nearly toppling over your own two feet as you stumble out of the bedroom. The door’s cracked open, but there aren’t any lights on, where is he, where the fuck is he?!

Another step, round the corner, and suddenly you smack face first into something hard. A soft oof reaches your ears, and through the darkness and the veil of your tears, you can barely make out the two blue lights glowing at you from above.

“Whoa, careful! Sorry about that, almost didn’t see you there. What’re you doing up so late, baby?”

Your eyes are still blurry, no matter how many times you blink. But you can still see him, his hair messy from sleep, wearing nothing but a pair of old sweatpants. He offers a lazy smile, but it drops almost instantly when he sees the tears spilling down your burning cheeks.

“…Hey, what’s wrong?”

Maybe it’s the tender tone of his voice, the soft way he speaks those three simple words. Or maybe it’s the fact you can see his eyes dim ever so slightly, signaling he’s turned off his technique for the moment. Or maybe it’s just knowing that he’s here, still alive and breathing and in one fucking piece, that makes you lose control. (Not that you had very much to begin with, but still.)

He visibly jolts at the shrill wail that rips from your throat, his whole body rigid as you throw yourself against his chest. Tiny arms wrapped around his waist, nails digging into his muscular back. Almost as though you’re scared he’ll disappear, anchoring him to you with every bit of strength you have.

What does he do? You’re obviously in distress, but why? He’d just left to get a glass of water, he’d been gone for less than five minutes! And now you’re blubbering like a child into his bare chest, sobbing so loudly he’s surprised none of your neighbors have come banging on your door.

“Baby, come on,” he tries, but the pet name only seems to make you cry harder. He winces before taking hold of both your shoulders. He doesn’t bother trying to pry you away; no need to make you even more upset. “You gotta tell me what’s wrong. I can’t help you if I don’t know.”

Damn it, everything he’s saying is just making it worse. He hates seeing you cry like this. So tiny and frail, curling into his chest, incoherent words and noises spilling from your lips. You won’t answer him or let go of his body, no matter how many times he tries to convince you.

Does he just ride it out and let you finish? What if you pass out? Will you still remember any of this by the time you wake up tomorrow? Was it something he said earlier that made you this upset? He wracks his brain, trying to see if any of his earlier teasing struck a nerve within you. He doesn’t recall saying anything that could prompt this kind of reaction out of you…

Then again, what could? You’re his girl, his other half (as he’s quick to remind you and everyone else within earshot). Strong but soft, a capable sorcerer climbing the ranks with ease. You have an unshakeable character, sticking true to your values and morals no matter what. It’s one of the reasons why he fell in love with you in the first place. Not just anything could resort you to a crying, trembling mess in his arms.

He sucks in a deep breath and tries again. “Come on, tell me what’s wrong. I promise I’ll make it all better, I swear!”

And he’s just about to bribe you with some of the sweets he’s stashed away in the kitchen when you lift your head from his chest. Cheeks hot and tearstained, and yet you’re still so beautiful.

“S-sorry,” you barely manage to choke out. Your throat’s practically on fire, and you can already feel a monster of a headache coming on. “I…I had…”

He doesn’t say anything. He simply wipes your tears away with his thumb, waiting patiently for you to finish.

“…I had a bad dream…”

It sounds so fucking childish when you say it out loud. Should’ve just kept your mouth shut, gone back to bed once you saw he was okay. What do you expect he’ll do about it, huh? Not like he can erase your bad memories, no matter how strong he might be.

But that hole in your chest is still there, even after all that crying—

And you can’t help it anymore. You press your palms to your face, desperately trying to rid your fact of all those tears. Wanting to save at least some of your dignity before the night’s over.

A pair of warm hands close over your wrists, his touch surprisingly gentle as he pulls your hands away. Exposing your teary, blubbering face to those beautiful blue eyes. The mere thought makes you want to cry all over again.

“C’mon now, you’re too pretty to cry like that.” The corner of his mouth is quirked up in a smile, his messy hair hanging over his eyes as he tilts his head to meet your gaze. He catches another tear on his thumb, making sure to wipe it away before pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I don’t like seeing you all upset like that.”

“B-but”—oh fuck, here you go again—“you were…you were dead!”

You can still remember everything so clearly. The blood trickling from his mouth. The glazed look in those dull eyes. How fucking fast it all seemed to happen. One moment he was fine, breathing and smiling as usual, and the next he was staring up at the sky. You didn’t even hear his body drop to the ground.

So much blood, it’s not supposed to be out of your body like that, why couldn’t I save you, why couldn’t—

“I’m sorry!” you blurt out, even as he takes you in his arms and pulls you against his chest. “I wasn’t enough to save you! You were dead and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it!”

You don’t even know what you’re saying at this point, but for whatever reason, talking about this seems to help. Your chest feels a bit lighter than it did before, even if your heart’s as heavy as a stone.

“You’re not supposed to die! And I know that’s stupid of me to say, everyone dies at some point, but you always say you’re the strongest! No one can hurt you, even if they tried! So why—”

Your voice catches in your throat, tears still streaming down your face. He still holds you close, one arm around your waist, his other hand resting on the back of your head.

“…Why did you leave me? You said you’d never leave me, no matter what! But you did—and I let it happen—I’m so fucking sorry, Satoru, I just—”

You’re running out of steam, you can feel it in your bones. Too exhausted to cry anymore, probably too burnt out to even walk back to your room. But before you can even try he’s lifting your face in his hands, tracing your swollen lips with his thumb.

Smirking down at you like there’s nothing wrong in the world.

“Why are you sorry, sweets? If anything, I should be the one saying sorry. Sorry that dream version of me was such a cheap imitation.” He rolls his eyes with a scoff. “Like I’d let myself get killed like that.”

“S-Satoru, I’m serious!”

“And so am I.” And you can see it in his face—the way his eyes practically burn into yours, his mouth set in a tight line, his jaw clenched even when he forces out the words. “I said I’d never leave you, right?”

You sniffle out, “Y-yeah…”

“And I meant it. So no matter how many bad dreams you might have of me,” he curls his hands around your thighs and lifts you up effortlessly, securing your body against his chest, “just know that they’re dreams. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Slowly, he begins to carry you back to your room. Your arms find their way around his neck, fingers burying their way into his soft white hair. You’ll never get over how strong he is, how amazing he is—and how of all the people in the world, he chose to share the rest of his life with you.

Not strong enough to save himself from dying.

Your throat fills with bile at the thought, even as he settles you back down against the mattress. Back in the place where your nightmare occurred, where you saw his body and all that blood—

“Don’t leave me!”                                      

“Baby, I wasn’t even planning on it.” Damn, this nightmare really messed with your head, huh? “I’m staying right here with you, alright?”

You won’t disappear on me again? You won’t leave me alone like you did in that dream, right?

He seems to see right through you, given the soft expressing in those dazzling blue eyes. “I promise, I won’t leave your side. Not tonight, not ever.”

It takes a few moments for the two of you to get situated in bed; Satoru ends up having to do most of the work, since your arms and legs are still trembling uncontrollably. But the second the blankets are back around you, he wraps his arms around your shoulders and pulls you into his chest. Long legs tangling with yours, his breath warm against the crown of your head.

Lips soft as they press a thousand kisses to your forehead.

“I don’t know what kind of curse you dreamt of, but if I ever came across something like it one of these days…” He leans down, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “…I’d win, hands down.”

“You’d better.” Your head’s pounding something fierce, every bone in your body screaming for some proper rest. And it starts to feel normal, being wrapped up in Satoru’s arms. “…Otherwise, I’d have to kick your ass.”

He lets out a laugh before nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. His long eyelashes tickle your skin, his lips sweet and warm when they finally find your own.

“I’m sure you would. Although, I’d never let that happen; I’ll make sure to win every single fight, I swear! Don’t wanna make my pretty girl worry about me.”

But you’re always going to worry about him. It’s in your blood, comes with the territory of keeping this relationship alive. And maybe it’s stupid, maybe he is strong enough to never have to worry about himself in a fight. But there’s always going to be that part of you that wonders if he’s going to make it home tonight.

You tilt your head, eager to taste his lips again. Like your life depends on it, and the thought makes him smirk.

“Aww, can’t get enough of me, sweets?”

“…Shut up.”

But he knows he’s right. And you know he’s right. Doesn’t mean you have to say it out loud, though.

“You know I meant it, right?” Suddenly he’s holding your face again, brushing his nose against your own. His voice strangely soft as he leans in close, warm breath ghosting over your face. “’M not leaving you. Never, ever, ever!”

That gets a smile out of you. Weak and pitiful, but a smile nonetheless. At least he’s earnest. At the end of the day, he means well when it comes to you.

“I know you won’t. …So thank you.” You return his hug, sneaking your hand between your bodies and pressing it against his chest. Your throat growing tight when you feel the familiar b-bmp of his heart against your trembling palm. “Thank you for staying with me.”

There’s that tiny voice in the back of your head, urging you not to listen to such pointless promises. Knowing that deep down, neither of you can stop death when it comes knocking at your door. No matter how much power he possesses, even Satoru Gojo can’t resist death’s clutches when they finally sink their claws into him.

But there’s time for you to deal with all of that in the future. Right here, right now, he’s safe and sound in your arms. Messy white hair tickling your neck as he nibbles on the skin of your earlobe. Making you giggle as he brushes the rest of your tears away.

And thanking whatever deity may be listening above that you get to spend just one more night with him, wrapped up in his arms with his lips against your own.

[64yrsold]

ACHES 13. thunder

18+ (please see masterlist for cw) aches masterlist previous (12)

“Working hard, baby?” I asked, serious but giggly. I loitered in the doorway to the bedroom, where he had temporarily crammed a desk, laptop, and a few loose instruments. His office. 

“Listen to this, darling,” he murmured, playing a recording of acoustic strumming, washed away by reverb and noise. I listened, quietly, watching his hands illustrate the music. I liked watching the soundwaves scroll on the screen. “Fucking gorgeous, that is.”

I nodded, “I like it.”

“That’s all me, by the way,” he pointed to the screen, raising his eyebrows. “Little solo project. Don’t tell anyone.”

I smiled, “Who would I tell?”

“I’m on a roll today, sweetheart.” He leaned far back in the chair, reaching his hands above his head. He yawned and groaned, revealing his inky hips as he stretched. “You having a nice day?”

I was grinning at his question, “Very nice.”

“Mm,” he hummed, glad. He relaxed, his hands slapping into his thighs. “I have noticed the time, if that’s why you’re lurking.”

“I’m not lurking,” I rolled my eyes, “This is my apartment.”

“My office,” he sat forward in his chair, knees touching the edge of my bed. 

“Pretty small office,” I shrugged, “For such a big-time-hit-song writer.”

“I try to keep my ego in check.”

“It’s pretty big, isn’t it?” I bit my cheek, half-hiding behind the door frame.

“Are you about to make a dick joke?” His mouth was open in a smile, laughter catching in his throat. He got up from his chair, clambering around the bed, resting his hands on my hips. 

“Well, now you’ll never know,” I tucked my head into his chest, eagerly listening for his heartbeat. I found it, ear pressed to the familiar percussive sound. I found comfort in imagining his heart, wet and beating, constant and working, touching all his blood and breathing oxygen into it. I wished I could project the visceral image of his beating heart onto a screen, and watch it slop and work. It could put me to sleep, I thought. “You ruined the moment.”

“I could never ruin the moment, darling.” He spread his hand over the small of my back, pressing my body against his. He kissed my cheek, my neck, my forehead.

“Since your workday is done,” I looked up, “Right?” I whispered for approval. He gave me a quick nod, eyes closed. “Since your workday is done, can I ask you a favor?”

“Anything,” he said into my hair, kissing at my temple. “I’d even give you three wishes, if you rub–“

“Not very original,” I critiqued, earning an understanding shrug. 

“What do you need?” Serious again, his thumbs turning little circles against my skin.

“It’s just my back, I–” I was quiet, nervous to ask. 

“Say no more, my dear,” he stepped away, dramatically ripping the covers off the bed. Trying to get me to laugh. “Lay here a minute, and just close your eyes. Let me get a few things ready.”

“It doesn’t have to be–”

“Lay down, will you?”

I didn’t feel the urge to argue. I sat on the edge of the bed, watching him stumble around the bedroom, hopping over clutter and stepping around the edges of my furniture.

“You lie down weird,” he quipped, lighting a few candles around the room. I sighed, laying flat on my back as he shut the blinds. The room flickered gently.

“Darling, you want a glass of water?” he asked from the kitchen.

“I’m alright,” I replied, closing my eyes. The room was quiet, the sound of the small fan in the corner rustling his notebook pages the only noticeable noise. 

He set a glass of water on the nightstand beside me. “Take off your clothes.”

I laughed, a puff of air. 

“Or… What do they say? Undress to your comfort?” He sat on the edge of the bed beside me, a hand resting on my stomach.

“Too tired,” I mumbled. 

“Miss, I’m just trying to do my job,” he tickled the skin above my hip, causing me to jolt upright, giggling. I squirmed, pushing at his solid forearms. “I’ll help you, if you want.”

I laid back down, letting him hover over me, kissing my lips briefly before pulling my shirt over my head.

“Comfortable?” he teased, flinging the shirt into the laundry basket. His hands were warm at my sides, indulging in the softness of my skin. 

I shook my head, smiling. He nodded, a quick flip of his chin, and bent his head to meet my chest. He kissed at the valley of my breasts, along the lace of my bra, and down to my bellybutton. He slipped his fingers into my belt loops, and I raised my hips to help him drag my jeans down my legs.

He planted a thick, wet kiss on the inside of my soft thigh. “Pretty thing.” 

“Not very professional.”

He looked up at me with black pupils overflowing his irises, pink lips blushing. He didn’t say anything, biting his lip as he pulled my underwear down my legs slowly. The cold air of the room bit at my skin, leaving me sensitive and shuddering.

“Is this to your comfort level?” he asked again, smooth and low. 

“Not quite,” I shivered, and he unclasped my bra in an instant. I watched his eyes linger at my peaked nipples, lips parted and sighing silently. 

“You can roll over for me,” he murmured, “Please.”

I liked his politeness. I rolled onto my stomach, and he sat on his heels just below my waist, hands poised at the middle of my back.

“This will be a bit cold, darling.” He quickly rubbed a creamy, dense lotion into my back, trying to use the warmth of his hands to dull the cold chill of it. He pushed into the muscles alongside my spine in big, heavy circles. His overwhelming touch was enough to pull the breath out of my lungs. I was warming slowly.

“Harder?” he asked, and I blushed, nodding. He pressed deeper into the muscle beside my shoulder blade, an uncontrolled groan escaping me. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” I mumbled, mindlessly ringing with bliss. 

“You have to say if I hurt you.” He lightened his touch, focusing on spreading his hands wide over my back. But I didn’t want him to be careful. I wanted to feel the full force of him, to panic as my joints dug into the mattress. I wanted to grit my teeth, to set my jaw, to stay silent as his body overwhelmed my own. To see blood. To see if I could handle all of him, all at once. Then, pretty kisses over lavender bruises, soft accolades from his lips. 

“You don’t hurt me.” My eyes were fluttering closed, my entire body focused on his circling hands. 

“You’re so soft,” he was mumbling, and I could feel his breath hitting my back. His hands were weakening, fingertips twitching with exertion. “I have to be so careful.”

I was breathing deep and wide, picturing my diaphragm pulling down my lungs to my hips. I listened to the hiss of air leaving my nose.

He reached up to the back of my head, pulling my hair off my neck and to the side. He pressed two fingers to the base of my skull, dragging them down the ridged ladder of my vertebrae. It was ecstasy to be touched like this, to capture his complete attention. I was losing my grip, waiting for his fingers to climb the hills of my spine. He trailed a finger stepwise to my tailbone, pressing his palm there gently. 

“You’re fucking perfect,” he sighed, and I could hear the need in the strained whisper of his voice. “Made just for me.” His arm wrapped around my lower belly, guiding my body to his, pressed close and tight. He was hard against my thigh, and gasped quietly into my skin. He was starved, kissing my back with his wet and open mouth. He moaned into each kiss, shaking me down my spine. His curls brushed against my back, butterfly kisses over my sensitive skin. I felt a stitch down my side, twisting between my thighs and screaming there for relief. I stretched my arms above my head to clutch the sheets, parting my knees for him. 

“Need you,” I whined, naked and frustrated against his clothed body.

“I just want to touch you,” he nipped at the skin above my hip, crossing over my back to the other hip. His teeth and tongue were delicious, a punctuated mixture of sting and release. “Let me take you in.”

“Something,” I begged, “Give me something.”

He laughed, cheek against the middle of my back. “Okay.”

His arm left me, and I sank into the mattress without his restraint. I was motionless and splayed facedown as he tugged down his jeans, placing his thigh between my legs. He pulled me against him, wet and hot against his leg. It was enough pressure to ease the ache, and I smiled into the sheets, satisfied.

“Now will you be patient?” he asked gently, meaning to tease me. It was sweet and earnest. He was hoping to keep me occupied while he took his time. I nodded, lazy and stupid. His palm opened over my bellybutton, guiding me to sit upright. I whimpered, happy and drowsy, letting his hand slide up between my breasts as my head laid back on his shoulder. I was sitting on his thigh, back arched to accommodate the angle I needed to kiss at his pulsing neck. I ground my hips into him instinctively, but he wrapped his other arm around me tightly.

“Keep still,” he brushed his lips against my ear, “I need more time with you.”

I nodded, wanting to be good. I held my breath carefully, the bottom of my lungs aching, keeping still and controlled. He curiously wandered around my neck with his fingertips, searching for something. I had nothing to hide, and let my hair spill over his shoulder as my head relaxed into him. I was barely there, only a heavy fog of lust. He captured the cartilage of my throat, finding the edges of it. I felt off-balance, realizing he was keeping a tactile diary of my body. His breaths were shallow, mouth gently agape, focused and quiet. Remembering.

His finger moved to the side of my throat, tracing the carotid. He dripped his way down my neck, following the artery, chasing it to my collarbone. His hands smelled like coconut, from the lotion. 

“Your heart is beating so fast,” he whispered into my hair, mouth buried in my temple. The warmth of his hand covered the top of my breast, his palm pressed carefully to the skin. 

“Breathe, just a little deeper,” he murmured, noticing my unnatural stillness. He matched his breaths to mine, encouraging me to fill my lungs until they stung. The intimacy of our synchronized breaths had me circling my hips over his thigh. He didn’t stop me, “That’s better.” His voice was honey-thick and exhausted. He cupped my heartbeat as it slowed.

Rain splattered against the windows. The sound left me feeling foggy, and I pictured us outside, the rain soaking through our clothes. Kissing raindrops from his cheek. Watching lightning spark against the sky, cracking across his pupils.

His hand trailed down my stomach, an agonizing pace. He placated me with the flick of his tongue against my neck, humming sweet words into my heated skin.

This must be love. 

This must be intimacy.

I whimpered, high and ugly, when the rough edges of his fingertips met with the wetness between my legs. Now I felt completely exposed; blunt, stripped ends manipulated by his hands. He circled his fingers in the slick of my core, bringing it to the apex and pressing into my clit. 

“All for me?” he was prideful, the question rimming with satisfaction. Just what he wanted, me draped over him, pooling with need. Just what I wanted.

“Fuck me,” I moaned, at a pitch I didn’t usually reach. I wasn’t still at all anymore, reaching my hands above my head to fall into his hair, tugging at the soft strands. I ground my hips into him, forcing the friction he was trying desperately to withhold. He withdrew his fingers, biting at my earlobe.

“Be good,” he stated, simple. As if it were easy. I was already near the dizzying edge of an orgasm, the feeling spreading open in my lower belly. A bloom, a sunrise, an awakening. And yet, emptiness, a painful lack of his presence. 

I took in a shaky breath, realizing my thighs were trembling as I attempted to keep myself motionless. I tried to focus on the wall of warmth that was him against my back, on the surrounding force of his gravity. I was too wired to think straight.

“Help me,” I asked, and his breath caught, stopping the steady waves of his chest. He helped lay me down, my back to the mattress, my legs spread open for him to kneel between. My hair tickled my neck as it splayed over the pillows.

“Better?” He smiled, and I closed my eyes, the sight of him making it hard to keep my hands to myself. I listened to him pull off his shirt, “Open your eyes, darling.”

“I’ll touch you,” I whispered, and he laughed quietly.

“Keep them closed, then,” he kissed my cheek, “It’s fun to surprise you anyways.”

And, a shock, as he pushed two fingers inside of me, stretching and rolling into me. I whined, unprepared but desperate, holding his flexed forearm gently. He kept an even pace until I was moaning rhythmically, lulled and hazy. He held down my thigh with his free hand, gentle but firm. Keeping me right where he wanted me.

He removed his fingers, finding my clit and leaving me whining. I opened my eyes, his form blurry before me. Thunder shook the room, boasting and deep. I couldn’t bear it, the stinging, all-consuming bliss his fingers elicited. I grabbed his hair in fistfulls, listening to his breath hitch.

“Fuck,” he murmured, lazily rubbing into me. He was too gone to care about my desperate behavior, “Is this what you wanted?”

I nodded quickly, but couldn’t help myself from swirling my hips, gasping at the ecstasy he drew from me.

“Pretty thing,” he moaned, his hand leaving my thigh to palm his cock. I couldn’t look away, his eyes half-closed and dark, his hand moving over himself slowly, matching the relaxed pace he used on me. His mouth opened prettily, his lower lip glistening wet and needy. It was too much, him looking at me with round, full, desperate eyes, the sparks he sent down my legs, the twist somewhere deep within me. I was up high, on the very edge, leaning over the railing and judging the distance below. 

“Come, and I’ll fuck you,” he promised, voice strained and panting. “You want that, baby?”

I took a handful of his hair, his fingers still slow and restrained on my clit. A steady, faithful promise. My fingers were numb, my pulse an afterthought as I watched him observe me. He watched me moan and squirm, listlessly grabbing at him, his shoulders, his elbows, whatever was near. He understood, pressing his palm to my cheek, and slipping his thumb over my tongue. I moaned around his finger, sucking at the saltiness of his skin. He gasped quietly, losing focus on my clit, and pressing harder than he meant. I cried out, muffled by his thumb, a rocky, well-deserved climax rumbling throughout my patient body. I trembled, letting the euphoria ripple through me, seeing bright shades of blue as I squeezed my eyes shut. Then, desperate for him, I opened my eyes, losing myself in his endless pupils. I whimpered again, my body still tensing and relaxing deliciously. He noticed, slipping his fingers back inside of me, letting me finish around him with a final, thick moan. When I was limp and nothing but raw nerves, he withdrew all his fingers, laying beside me. He pulled my back to his chest, tightly holding me against him. I shuddered into him, reeling.

“Go to sleep, darling,” he said, holding me with steady pressure. I protested, parting my thighs and moaning. He ignored me, “Wake me up when you need me.”

I hummed in agreement.

-> next (14)

[hotchsofficialwifey]

Heyo, I'm about as new to requests as you are to writing fanfictions, so please also bear with me if I do this wrong xD Also, just write and don't say sorry, after all we should be thanking you for putting your content out there :3 Thanks for doing this! Looking forward to your stories :-) So for the prompts:

- Jonathan Crane date with scientist!reader (I'd be really interested in something completely different from Crane's interests, like computer science/math). Maybe they know each other from university and get in touch again when he works at Arkham and appears on the news or sth.

- Neil Lewis smut where the reader crushes a little too much on a character in a movie (👀) and Neil gets jealous.

- Jonathan Crane fluff/smut where the reader has a nightmare and Crane tries to comfort them while also being turned on by the fear? xD

hi! thanks so much for your request, sorry it took me so long to get to it. I'll try to do all of your requests but i'll start with the last one. thanks again, hope you enjoy!

summary: your sleeping over at your boyfriend Jonathan's house when you have a terrible nightmare. thankfully, he's there to help.

pairing: jonathan crane x fem!reader

warnings: light smut (jonathan's horny but nothing really happens, more smut to come later ;) ), fluff, descriptions of a bad dream (nothing too scary, dw), use of fear toxin, hurt/comfort,

You're sitting on a field, eating ice cream on a sunny day, and the drizzling rain doesn't deter you from enjoying your summer afternoon. The world is bright, fun, colorful, and at ease.

But it all passes as soon as it came. The drizzling rain turns into booming thunder, and it pours and pours like buckets. You run into a nearby store, soaking wet and praying for a safe place to wait out the storm. The sky is a nauseating shade of grey, you notice once in the safety of the store. Then, you see it. A shadow lurking in the walls with red piercing eyes. Your breath catches in your throat as you inch away from it.

It, however, lunges towards you, and initiates a chase. You're running through the pouring rain, heart pounding and screaming for help, but the world is empty. Silent. Under different circumstances, maybe even peaceful. You run faster and harder, wailing and begging for help, but when you turn around...it's gone! You sigh in relief, but hide behind a tree for safe-keeping. You wait a few moments, but the coast seems clear. As soon as you begin to walk back to the store, your snatched by a shadowy claw wrapped around your neck.

You wake with a jolt, gasping as your eyes shoot open. It was a dream, you think. Just a dream.

"You okay?" A gravely, half-asleep voice asks. You turn to see Jonathan's soft brown eyes, and your heart slows at the sight of him.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine." You say, still slightly breathless. But upon remembering the dream, tears resurface in your eyes. " I just had a really fucked up dream." You say with a quivering voice.

"Oh, baby." Jonathan coos, wrapping his arms around you. "It's okay..." He murmurs. His voice is sweet as honey, but his mind is far from it. The tightening in his pants only grows as tears begin to stream down your face and land on his white shirt. He shifts uncomfortably, hoping you don't notice how flustered he is as his hand rubs your back carefully.

"Jonny?" Your sweet voice calls. "You okay?"

He nods quickly, trying to play it cool.

"Yeah..." he smiles. "Yeah, I'm fine. Let's just go back to sleep, sweetheart..." As you both lay back down, he quickly hides the can of fear toxin he used on you.

a/n: yay, first fic on here!! not my best work, but i wanted to write a little something because i feel like I kept y'all waiting for too long lol. hope this was okay, much more to come soon!

[a-little-unsteddie]

…i got bored so i used this word generator to generate 5 random words to write something small for, and then thought it would make a fun game. so. here i am.

rules:

- generate 5 random words using this generator and then write something using those words!

- tag 5 (or however many you want) mutuals to challenge!

- if you don’t like the five words you got, reroll them. this is meant to be a fun little challenge, not something to stress over. have fun!

— my words: construct, hundredfold, reformation, clamor, sunshine —

Steve had been ready to go home since he had gotten to school that morning. After everything with the Halloween party and then Billy and the tunnels, Steve was exhausted and on the verge of a breakdown. Seeing Nancy walking into the school holding hands with Jonathan made the feeling multiply by a hundredfold, so he did his best to stay focused on classes.

Lunch came as a relief, but only temporarily. Steve didn’t particularly have anyone to sit with; he was not about to sit with his recent ex-girlfriend and her current boyfriend, nor was he going to sit with his ex-friends, not that he’d be welcome there anyway. Maybe if he took back all the reformation he’d been trying to do, but Steve couldn’t go back to being ‘King Steve’, not when there were monsters lurking around beneath their feet.

Once Steve got his tray of food, he stared at the students sitting at every table and immediately decided fuck that and turned to leave. He heard a clamor behind him, but resolutely did not turn back to see what it was and continued walking out the doors. He made his way to the library, vaguely aware that someone was following him, and figured it was Nancy. Or worse, Jonathan.

“You can go back to the cafeteria,” Steve said without looking back. He could see the library doors at the end of the hallway, and focused on putting one foot in front of the other. “I’ll sit with you at some point, I just can’t today, okay?” He said, his heart beating out of his chest. He thought that was fair enough, and if either of them argued, Steve wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold back the breakdown.

“Well,” a voice, decidedly not Nancy or Jonathan, spoke, “color me surprised,” Eddie continued, as Steve stopped and stared resolutely in front of him. “King Steve is gonna grace my table with his presence?”

Steve stiffened and closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath. He wasn’t sure why this was the last straw, of all things, but it was, and tears were threatening to fall down his face. He trembled as he held the tray and glared at it, as if it would stop the rattling.

“Sorry,” Steve said, trying with his entire being to keep his voice even, “thought you were someone else.” He finished lamely, swallowing thickly. Of course Nancy nor Jonathan would come after him, why would they? Steve barely refrained from letting out a pathetic whine, knowing that if he did, Eddie would pounce on the weakness immediately. He took a deep, measured breath, and tried not to cry.

“Oh?” Eddie said, walking around Steve to be in front of him. “Expecting someone else to come chasing after you?” He asked, although the tone didn’t quite match the words he was saying, genuine curiosity covering any derision that Steve figured was meant to come out.

“I guess,” Steve said, looking away from Eddie. His gaze snapped back to Eddie when he felt a hand on his face and he jolted away from him, but before he could exclaim what the fuck, Steve realized that his cheeks were wet. Oh. He’d been crying already.

Eddie observed him for a moment, before seeming to come to a conclusion with a decisive nod. “I know a place that’s away from,” he gestured around them, “all of this. I could show you.”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows and looked back at him. “Why would you do that?”

Eddie looked at him gently, which wasn’t that something? To be looked at with such gentleness, it made Steve’s heart hurt. “You need to get away, and I know that Wheeler and Byers are about to come looking for you.”

Steve sniffed, feeling tears drip off his chin. He didn’t even realize when he started crying, didn’t understand why he couldn’t seem to stop. He nodded after a second, and Eddie lit up with a brilliant smile.

“Follow me, my liege,” Eddie said, bowing dramatically before hopping up and leading Steve through the school, then outside and through the football field and eventually through the woods and into a small clearing where there was a lone picnic table.

Steve recalled that Tommy used to bitch about having to go through the woods to get a deal, because Eddie only ever dealt to him there and would refuse to otherwise.

“I figured you could use some sunshine,” Eddie said as he plopped down on the bench, grinning shyly up at Steve, who huffed a soft laugh and smiled at him. Somewhere between leaving the school and getting to the bench, Steve had finally stopped crying. He sat across from Eddie, putting his tray down on the table.

“Did you get a chance to eat?” Steve asked, noticing that Eddie hadn’t brought his tray with him.

Eddie crooked a smile, “I finished before you even got into the cafeteria,” he assured. Still, Steve wasn’t quite sure if he believed Eddie, so offered him part of his.

“I’m not gonna eat the full thing anyway,” Steve reasoned, smiling at Eddie hopefully, who looked surprised that Steve was offering. Steve watched as a smile relaxed Eddie’s features, which caused his heart to beat hard against his chest as Steve realized that Eddie was actually…really pretty.

“You know,” Eddie started, grabbing half of the food from the plate, “you’re not who I thought you’d be.”

Steve scrunched his nose up, “I’m trying not to be who everyone thinks I am,” he admitted softly.

“Way to beat the societal construct set out for you,” Eddie said, grinning softly. “Do you wanna talk about it?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. Steve huffed quietly, looking down at the food on the tray.

“Not particularly. Tell me about uhh,” Steve blanked on the name of the nerd game that the gremlins played, “the game, um..” Steve stared blankly at the top of the picnic table, “Oh! Dragons and.. whatever. The dragon game.” Steve looked up at Eddie.

Eddie lit up, “How do you know what that is? Whatever—it doesn’t matter! I can definitely tell you about our campaign,” he started talking about it at a million miles per hour.

“Slow down,” Steve laughed, smiling brightly, feeling lighter than he had in a long time. “I want to understand.”

Eddie looked immensely fond before nodding and starting from the beginning. They spent several hours out there, not bothering to go back to classes, and Steve learned a lot about D&D, that he would never let the kids know. By the end, Steve was glad that Eddie had followed him out of the cafeteria, and had even offered him a place at their table. He would have to face Nancy and Jonathan at some point, but at least he’d have Eddie supporting him.

no pressure tags: @sailing-through-hawkins @hammity-hammer @apomaro-mellow @cuips-not-cute @i-less-than-three-you

[reanimatedandmedicated]

I want to matter. To be seen, known, valued. There are people that do, but my fucking brain won't allow me. Screaming voices in my head critique everything I say and do, preaching that it is only a mask that they care for. That I am evil, useless, broken. A discarded tool, a blade too dull to ever be wielded. Shame, insecurity, loathing- I'll give my body, but only carefully, sheepishly, apologetically. I'll give my brain, nervous, confused, erratic, unstable.

I'll give it all, and beg for you to put me down before you end up cutting yourself on the jagged edges. Go to pick me up, and all I'll ever see is how far I now stand to fall again when I'm once again replaced. I'll always be the girl that wasn't good enough, that wasn't attractive enough, that wasn't wealthy enough, stable enough, confident enough. I'll always be the dodged bullet, the name that is either winced at or mocked upon mention, if I'm even mentioned at all. I'll always be the one that disappointed.

I go to therapy, and I can't bear to help this stupid girl. Shes caused all my problems, this bitch in the mirror, and i hate her so, so much. Why should I show her any mercy? I'll dole out money for friends, volunteer at shelters, give my bus passes away, but really, who am I fooling? My function is to serve, but never engage. Lurking in old chats and servers, keeping abreast of goings on, too afraid too say anything or even leave a little heart. I am not of the people, I am an observer. I will always be some stranger pantomiming the best attempt at humanity I can force.

Do I evoke smiles? My sincerest wish, for those close to me, is to be a source of comfort and happiness. But who can fondly recall the flight risk, punching orderlies and attempting to eat the nurses? Who can have warm recollections of the girl who cried and begged like some animal when she ought have shown grace? I will stay in the periphery, silhouette out the corner of everyone's eye. I'll keep myself where I belong. I tried to step out, gently coaxed for over half a decade only to be thrown aside and have the future I broke my body for awarded to someone else.

I secretly hate those that care sometimes. I hate them, when I want nothing more than to let go, and I am smothered by the assurances that numbing my pain will hurt their feelings. My salvation, my punishment, will be traumatizing and scary. So I pop the pills, pretend to be well enough to carry on, drown myself in cheap booze whenever I dance too close to the razor's edge. Hoping that the white of my smile can offset the fresh red on my limbs, but color theory was never something I learned.

I joke about villainy and lean into it for fun, but it's also. What else can I be? I'll always be the bad guy, the unstable shock story, the melancholy memory. I'll always be a fucking problem, at least I can aestheticize it. The guilt I feel looks best in leather and neon.

Another night sober, first sober night this week, and I'm already losing. I can't tell if the burning on my arms or the horrible thirst- I can't tell which of them is stronger.

A lit cigarette extinguished in my leg jolts me back to typing. With enough imagination, one could even pretend it to be the warmth of a finger brushing up against these lichtenberg relics.

I'll survive and live to regret another day spent.

There's a girl in my bed tonight. Her name is Brandy, and she's so tempting. Inviting. She whispers such sweet promises. I will be held, warmed, from the inside. Sweet bliss of emaciated and stunted thought, too brittle to hurt, too abstract to scare.

No, not another sober night. Not tonight. The walls are crawling, and they chitter among themselves in gossip not heard but felt, gazes not beheld but tasted. They hate me. I hate me too. I'll give them a show.

Bottom's up, and goodnight.

[msmischief101]

♞Pairing: Steo ♞Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Theo Raeken, Tracy Stewart ♞Tags: magic Stiles, hurt Theo, getting back together ♞Words: 3761 ♞ for @amatchinwater

ao3

---

midnight is the darkest hour

---

When the sound of the doorbell interrupts the movie, Stiles’ heart instantly starts to race. He glances at the door, confirming that it’s, in fact, the middle of the fucking night, before he jolts out of bed and yanks his shirt over his head. He considers calling out to the person ringing the doorbell as if the world is going to end, but he decides against it. It’s 12 am, and no sane person — no, sane person who knows him — would be ringing his doorbell at this ungodly hour. Someone’s better being maimed by a supernatural creature, or he’s going to be very pissed off and whoever is ringing his doorbell right now will not be happy. 

As he rushes through the kitchen towards the front door, Stiles decides not to take any chances. This is still Beacon Hills, downtown or not. Supernatural creatures lurk around every corner, and he manages to piss off a family of wendigos not too long ago. He grabs a kitchen knife and takes a deep breath to steady his trembling hands. If the wendigos found him, there isn’t much he can do with the weapons at hand. However, they won’t be able to enter his house as long as his mountain ash barrier is still intact. 

Cautiously, Stiles opens the door and narrows his eyes promptly when he spots Tracy Stewart on the other side. She would be the last person Stiles expected to visit him — any hour of the day, but especially in the middle of the night. After all, the last time they met, Tracy had tried to kill him. Her being here doesn’t make any fucking sense. Stiles watches as her eyes flit nervously toward the knife in his hand. Maybe he can’t do much against a family of wendigos with it, but they both know he can easily kill her with it. He almost did. 

In self-defense, naturally. 

“Put the knife down.” 

Stiles forces his lips into a smile, trying his best to hide his confusion. If she were here for a fight, she would have already pounced on him. Mountain ash doesn’t work on her, after all. “What do you want?”

Tracy hesitates for a moment, her eyes locked onto the sharp knife in Stiles’ hand. She flares her nostrils, shoulders a rigid line. “I don’t want anything,” Tracy says, her voice barely above an angry whisper. Whatever her reason for coming here might be, she didn’t do it by choice. With those words, she turns away from Stiles, reaching for something hiding in the shadows of his porch. 

No, Stiles corrects himself when a bloody yet awfully familiar hand appears in his line of vision. Someone. He doesn’t lower the knife, grips it tighter instead, and keeps it pointed at Tracy. There’s not a single person in Beacon Hills he trusts less than her — not even with Theo leaning on her for support. Stiles can hardly recognize him beneath the layers of blood and torn clothing. He looks like he's been mauled by a wild animal, and the deep gashes on his chest only add to the sense that he’s on death’s doorstep. 

“He needs your help,” Tracy informs him.

“No shit.” Stiles can very much see that, and he is more than willing to help Theo. No matter what happened, he’s not about to let him die. But trusting Tracy is not an option, and he's not about to lower his guard. Trying to act casual, he switches the knife to his right hand and holds out his left arm. “Then give him to me.” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Fine,” Stiles says and steps away from the door. It’s one of the harder things he’s ever done. There is the possibility of Tracy being too stubborn to see clarity. Theo needs him. He’s going to die without his immediate help. That’s why they’re here. No matter how much Stiles wants to stop Theo from dying, he is not going to let Tracy into his apartment; he’s not going to allow himself to be vulnerable around her. Stiles grabs his door. “Enjoy watching him bleed out at your feet.” Glancing at Theo’s ashen face once more — fuck, it hurts, so fucking much — Stiles closes the door. 

Stiles’ hands tremble as he steps away from the door, his heart heavy with what he’s about to do. “Fine,” he breathes, unable to look at Theo. The thought of leaving him here to die is unbearable, but he’s not going to let Tracy into his house. He knows he cannot trust her, especially not with being vulnerable around her. She’ll probably jump him the second she gets the chance. 

He allows himself to glance at Theo, regretting this decision instantly. The pained expression on his face makes his heart ache. He can see the agony etched in every fiber of Theo’s body. It’s more than clear that he needs help, and Stiles wants nothing more than to help him, but he’s not willing to put his own life in Tracy’s hands. He is willing to risk his life when there is a chance of survival.

Stiles grips the door tightly, knuckles turning white. He can feel the weight of Tracy’s gaze on him, and he’s tempted to give in to her demands. But while Stiles is reckless, he’s not stupid, and he is going to stand his ground on this one. If she claims to love him as much as she told everyone time and time again, then she will give in before it’s too late. 

“Enjoy watching him bleed out at your feet.” Stiles can feel bitterness and frustration latch onto him, but when he glances back at Theo, guilt is washing over him. This is the hardest decision he’s ever made, but he can’t afford to let his guard down around Tracy. So, with one final look at Theo, Stiles slams his door and squeezes his eyes shut. Regret eats away at him, instantly. He’s unable to move away from the door, fingers still tightly wrapped around the doorknob. 

“Tracy.” Theo’s voice is weak, but it still carries the unmistakable aura of an alpha.

“Stiles.” 

As much as he tries to pretend otherwise, Stiles can’t help but feel vindicated. After all this time — after everything that happened between them, the arguments, the fights, the separation — Theo still chooses him over her. She must absolutely hate it, and she still deserves it. All of it. Stiles takes a deep breath, trying his best to keep his expression under control, and pulls the door open again. “Change of heart?” He raises a brow and lowers the knife. 

They both know who won. 

They both know who will always win. 

Tracy’s expression darkens, but when Stiles reaches out his arm this time, she helps Theo move from her to Stiles. He’s heavy, almost deadweight, and it makes all the more clear how close to death he is, otherwise he’d never allow himself to be this weak in front of anybody — not even Stiles. 

“Goodbye, Stewart.” Stiles slams the door shut before she has the chance to say anything else. They wasted way too much time already. Stiles’ heart is racing, his mind buzzing with a million different thoughts — what happened? Who did this? Are they still in danger? Are the other chimeras okay? Will he be able to save Theo’s life? He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself as he adjusts his grip on Theo. His wounds are still bleeding profusely, and Stiles can feel his own fingers shaking against the alpha. 

“Who did this to you?” he asks, his voice trembling with anxiety. Although he should know better, Stiles never thought he would find Theo in a state like this. He never considered Theo could die. He is supposed to be invincible. 

“Wendigos,” Theo grunts in response, gesturing towards the couch. “But they’re dead,” he adds, briefly glancing at Stiles. His voice is so soft, gentle, oh-so reassuring — as if that’s the most important thing right now. 

Stiles shakes his head. “You killed them?” he asks, his tone all but accusatory. He can’t imagine anyone else taking down a group of wendigos for no particular reason, but Stiles would have preferred them to be still alive if that meant Theo is safe.

Theo nods weakly, collapsing onto the sofa. It’s hard not to react to the pained sounds or the amount of blood coming out of the clearly not healing wounds. 

“Why did you go after them?” Stiles asks because he cannot bear this silence, not with Theo in so much pain. As much as he tried to keep his distance from not only Theo but also the supernatural community in the past couple of years, he cannot get rid of his feelings for Theo. After many ups and downs, their relationship burned to the ground, but Stiles never lost his feelings for his former alpha. It’s impossible to stop loving him, and Stiles hates it more than he cares to admit. The only reason Stiles managed to get through their breakup, to survive being apart from Theo, is to completely cut him and everything relating to him out of his life.

Theo grimaces. “They decided to come after you.” 

Stiles’ heart skips a beat, and he presses his lips into a thin line to stop himself from smiling. Theo is still protecting him — a revelation that should not make him feel happy — and, naturally, he’s being a fucking idiot about it. “That’s the time you decide to step in?” Bitterness creeps into his tone, and the anger following along with it helped settle his anxiety. 

At least a little. 

“I knew you could take her.” Theo closes his eyes, one hand pressed to his chest as if that would stop the bleeding after his supernatural healing failed him. 

Narrowing his eyes, Stiles crouches down next to the couch. “That’s the problem.” He busies himself with the bloody fabric, and his anxiety returns with a vengeance. There is so much blood. “I would’ve killed her.” As much as he should focus on healing Theo, occupying his mind with something familiar helps him not to freak out completely. 

“Hayden stopped you.” Plus, it’s prevalent to keep Theo talking, and nothing would keep him talking more than the one thing they keep arguing over. 

Stiles pulls the bloody fabric away from Theo’s chest. “It was your job.” His fingers tremble slightly as he tightens his grip on the knife again. “You were supposed to stop this,” he breathes, cutting up the shirt. Stiles doesn’t even know if he means Theo stopping Tracy and Stiles from killing each other or— he takes a shuddering breath, pushing away the thoughts of what could have happened if Tracy hadn’t been around to bring Theo here. As much as he hates her, she is the one who helped save Theo’s life. 

Theo brushes his thumb over Stiles’ elbow. “If you wanted to see me naked—”

“Finish that sentence,” Stiles interrupts without looking at his former alpha, “and I’ll let you bleed out right here and now.” But he knows what Theo is doing. Stiles has always been the most proficient when he’s pissed off. Anger helps him concentrate on the task at hand. It’s easier to work on something that distracts him from blowing up. 

By the smile spreading on Theo’s lips, it’s evident he remembers that. “You wouldn’t.” 

Stiles flicks his gaze up. For a brief moment, it catches Theo's mouth. Memories of kissing him return with a pang of pain. He misses Theo, so much more than he’ll ever be able to explain. The self-inflicted distance was the only thing that kept Stiles from giving in — or so he thought. Theo obviously knew where he lived all along… and respected that Stiles didn’t want to see him. That’s not exactly something Theo usually does. When Stiles asked for distance, Theo pushed closer, knowing exactly he’d give in again. 

But not this time. 

Stiles swallows heavily, locking eyes with Theo, and spots an almost mischievous glint in those goddamn blue eyes. It’s not surprising. His feelings have never been a secret to Theo, just like Stiles is fully aware Theo still feels the same for him. Even after two years apart, nothing has changed. Nothing at all. They probably will never stop loving each other. How could they? They never let go of each other enough to let somebody else in. Stiles could’ve easily left town. He didn’t. Theo has enough money to live anywhere he wants without worrying about getting a job. He stayed in this hellscape of a town.

Grunting in pain, Theo lowers his hand again and stares at the ceiling. 

Stiles allows himself to cup Theo’s cheek, heart thudding when the chimera leans into the touch and closes his eyes. “This is going to hurt,” Stiles reminds him as he hovers his hands over Theo’s chest. It’s not the first time he helped Theo heal, but it is the first time he had to deal with a wound this bad. Stiles has no clue how bad this will actually hurt, but forcing the skin to knit itself together has never and will never be a fun experience.

Swallowing heavily, Stiles fixes his gaze on Theo’s chest. As much as he wants to watch out for not putting the chimera in too much pain, he needs to focus on his wounds or he will be bleeding out regardless. Stiles flexes his fingers, pushing everything out of his mind that could be distracting. There is only his power and the task right in front of him. 

That’s it. 

It has to be because fucking up is not an option. 

Stiles presses his hands together, feeling the magic mingle right under his skin, then spreads his hands wide. The warmth pooling in his palms leaves his body as a soft glow starts surrounding Theo’s wounds. That was the easy part for him. For Theo, this is already hard. What’s a comfortable temperature for him will turn into an abhorrent heat for Theo. This particular magic feels like an infection that has taken hold of his chest, of every inch of skin surrounding the gashes.  

Theo hisses softly, and he grabs a pillow, curling his fingers so tightly into it, his knuckles turn white. It’s not like Theo to show how much pain he is in. Even in front of Stiles, he always tried his best to keep his composure. Which only confirmed Stiles’ belief that he was invincible, that nothing in this world could ever take Theo away from him. 

But apparently, a family of wendigos got pretty damn close. 

His fingers tremble, and Stiles forces himself to take another deep calming breath. Theo is still alive, and he’ll ensure that it stays that way. Because that’s what he does. He’s the person who gets called to save those who had a rather nasty run-in with the supernatural. He’s the one who mends their wounds and fucks with their heads, so the supernatural world stays in the shadows. Saving Theo shouldn’t be an issue. 

But this isn’t a stranger bleeding out on his couch.

It’s Theo.

Stiles flexes his fingers before bringing them together slowly. It’s a simple gesture meant to guide Theo’s skin, to trick his body into healing. But nothing happens. Nothing at all. 

Panic sets in. The panic that he’s too late. That he cannot fix this, cannot save him. He opens his hands again, his heart hammering against his chest, then starts over. And over.

And over. 

“Stiles,” Theo whispers, grabbing his wrist with surprising strength despite his current state. His thumb brushes over his skin. “You won’t get rid of me that easily.” He smiles, grip weakening around Stiles’ wrist. “I’ll be here as long as you’ll have me.” 

Stiles nods quickly, trying to take a deep breath yet again. “Right,” he says, and his voice trembles with tears he refuses to spill, “and I’m not letting you leave. I still need you.” 

“Not as much as I need you.” Theo grimaces a little, eyes fluttering shut. “Hayden calling me out on my shit isn’t as effective.” 

“Probably because she can’t threaten you with no sex for a month,” Stiles shoots back, and suddenly, it’s easy. His thoughts clear, his panic settles, and he’s grounded in the better memories of their past, of them together — of the possibility of a future. As much as they don’t work, they cannot be without each other. Their lives are linked for the rest of forever. 

And Stiles is perfectly okay with it. 

Stiles takes a deep shaky breath, trying his best not to get distracted by Theo’s thumbs drawing circles on his wrist. He can do this. He’s done this before. It should be a walk in the park. Stiles licks his dry lips and flexes his fingers again, reaching for the warm glow surrounding the deep wounds on Theo’s chest. When he curls his fingers this time, the skin starts moving as well, stitching itself back together ever so slowly.  

Instantly, the grip on his wrist turns vice-like. 

“I’m sorry,” Stiles whispers, wishing he could do something to make it easier for Theo. “It’s over soon.” This isn’t like supernatural healing because it’s not the body itself working to get better, it’s an outside force doing it for him. The type of pain this healing causes is brutal. 

There’s a small tug on his arm, almost as if Theo is stopping himself from yanking his arm away. 

“Stop,” Stiles warns, his voice trembling with nerves. If he gets distracted now, Theo’s wound will rip open again, and the agony that follows will be excruciating. Besides, Stiles isn’t sure he’ll have the energy to start all over again. Nobody knows the toll it takes on him to use his magic, much less heal people. Almost everyone is too busy trying to calm the person in need. Most can’t tell that Stiles is ready to keel over every time he’s done and that a single wrong step can lead to devastating failure — the type of failure he cannot allow to happen, especially not right now with Theo’s life on the line. “Just hold on for a few more moments. I’m almost there.” His head starts hurting, the pain throbbing like a drum. It’s worse than normal. It’s always worse healing a supernatural creature. But Stiles grits his teeth, determined to complete the healing process. After all, what other option is there?

Theo tightens his grip around Stiles’ wrist, and the pressure is instantly uncomfortable if not yet painful. It’s a slip of control as the strength returns to Theo. Despite how painful it can end up being, this is a good sign. It means Theo is recovering quickly, that his wounds are closing, and his body starts healing on its own. It’s a relief, more than that, actually. It means that Theo is going to be a pain in his ass in no time at all. 

Just like he’s supposed to be. 

“Almost done.” He lets out a sigh of relief as he watches the final wound close. The deepest one in the middle had been the most stubborn, resisting his magic like a petulant toddler, but finally, it succumbed to his power. “ Counting down, three, two…” The wound closes neatly, and the almost otherworldly glow vanishes from Theo’s skin. “Done.” 

Theo’s grip relaxes, and he groans softly, but he doesn’t let go of him. “Fuck,” he curses breathlessly, his skin still too pale for Stiles’ comfort. “Fuck.” His eyelids flutter shut, and his breathing deepens. Given how much blood Theo has lost, it’s no surprise he’s exhausted. 

And he isn’t the only one. 

Stiles desperately wants to curl into a ball next to Theo and sleep for the rest of the week. But he needs blankets for Theo and food for both of them. Theo will be famished when he wakes up. Stiles can already feel his stomach rumbling, and his body is stuck in the perpetual post-magic-haze of trying to figure out which of the two is more urgent.  

“You’ll be fine.” Stiles brushes his fingers through Theo’s hair. He can’t help it, not after seeing Theo in such bad shape. If he could, he’d wrap him up in a blanket and stop him from doing something so suicidal ever again. But that’s not how they work. They get together, they become co-dependent, they fight, and they do stupid fucking shit. They break up. Someone does something reckless, they panic, and they get back together. It’s a vicious cycle; a cycle about to start again — a cycle neither of them wants to stop, not really. 

Theo’s eyelids flutter open for a moment, gaze trailing Stiles’ face as if he’s trying to confirm he’s not still trapped in a nightmare. A slow, almost lazy smile creeps across his face, making him look a lot more alive than he did seconds ago. “Knew you still loved me,” he whispers before his eyes slide shut again, too exhausted to stay open any longer. 

Stiles shakes his head, unable to shake the love and frustration Theo always manages to make him feel at the same time. He brushes the short strand out of Theo’s forehead and cups his cheek, tracing the side of his nose with his thumb. “You’re such an idiot,” Stiles whispers, leaning in to press their lips together for a moment.

When he pulls back, Theo hums softly, his body relaxing further on his couch. Loving Theo has never been an issue, not even when he was at his most difficult, not even when others considered him incapable or undeserving of love. 

With Theo’s fingers still wrapped around his wrist, Stiles moves into a more comfortable position. Food can wait. He reaches for a pillow and props it up against Theo’s waist, too tired to move them both for more space on the couch. Yawning, Stiles lays his head down, watching the gentle rise and fall of Theo’s chest, listening to the comforting sound of his breathing. 

Stiles closes his eyes, not daring to hope for things to be different this time. But he knows that Theo is his person, the one he loves, the one he will drag back from the depth of hell if he has to — even if he had put him there himself. Because he loves him more than his own life. Because right next to him is where Stiles belongs. 

Stiles wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

[blackhakumen]

Mini Fanfic #1096: Dear Mother (Helluva Boss)

TW://: Angst, Dark Themes

.

.

.

You. Are INSUFFERABLE to be around, Crimson!!!

So what? You wanna try and walk out on me? Divorce me even!? I'll end your trifling ass where you stand!!

Scare me all you want! I would rather living the rest of my life in the streets than to EVER be stuck with you any longer than I should! I'm leaving! And I am taking my son with me!

Go ahead and try and it'll be the last thing you'll do!!

Moxxie......my sweet baby boy, I'm so sorry.....

'SPLASH'

See that, Mox? Unless you wanna know what it feels like to be sinked down under, DON'T. FUCK WITH ME!

Moxxie quickly jolts up in the bed as he wakes himself up from a nightmare, a frequent one to exact. The white haired imp starts panting as quietly as he could to prevent his wife from waking up as well before he's calm enough to let out an annoyed, tired sigh from under his breath.

Moxxie: This again.....

It's been a day or two since Mox and his crew visited his father for the time in years, and unfortunately for him, the reunion itself was anything but happy. The uncomfortable atmosphere, the Intimidating tension between father and son, the painful memories of the past, and above all else, he had to put up with a sleeze-ball of an ex whom he APPARENTLY had a forced arranged marriage with that was orchestrated by his own father of all of people!

Luckily Millie and Blitz was able to crash the wedding at the last minute to save him, but even that wasn't enough to completely forget about the recent abuse his father had given him and the unsettling memories of his mother, the one person who actually gave a damn about him in this messed up world we called Hell before his wife came into the picture years later. And now she's gone......and it was all his fault......

The thought her alone was too much for the imp to handle. So he silently gets out from his side of the covers and gets himself up from the bed, hoping some fresh, nightly air would calm his nerves down and that Blitz isn't here lurking around to annoy him as per usual. He begins to head to the door until he felt his now awoken wife's hand softly grabbing his, preventing him to leave entirely.

Millie: Moxxie.....what's wrong? Where are you going?

Moxxie: Oh uhh.....(Smiles a Little) Hey, Millie, sorry for waking you. I was just...going out to get some fresh air is all.

Millie: (Frowns Worryingly at her Husband) You had a bad dream again, didn't you?

Moxxie: (Sighs in Defeat as He Sits Down at his Side of the Bed) Yeah.....It was about my family again for the millionth time. And it was a lot less pleasant than usual.....

Millie: I'm sorry, baby. (Pulls Moxxie's Hand Up to Give it a Loving Kiss Before Scooching Herself Over to Sit Next to Him) You don't deserve any of that, especially not after what happened that night.

Moxxie: ('Sigh') Yeah, but it's....whatever at this point. I'm just glad I was able to wake up sooner than later.

Millie stares into her husband's sadden eyes for a few seconds as she decided to come up with a different topic to help ease his stress.

Millie: You know, it has been a while since we've talked about your momma. What was she like?

Moxxie: (Looks Up at the Ceiling While Smiling Fondly of his Mother) Only the greatest mom I could ever ask for at the time. She's smart, kind, loving, and very beautiful too. (Turns to Millie) Kind of like you in a way.

Millie: (Heart Begins to Flutter in Pure Happiness) Awwwwwwww honey!~ You think I'm just like her?~

Moxxie: I-I mean, not completely! But you two do share a few similar traits from one another that I happen to love very much. (Begins to Frown) I doubt mother would love me again if she was here right now, but.....

Millie: (Starts Frowning in Worry Again) What do you mean?

Moxxie starts looking away again before hesitantly takes a very deep breath before speaking.

Moxxie: Millie, when I was young, I did something. Something stupid, horrible, cruel. Something......(Tears Starts to Fall Down From his Eyes) Something I will never EVER forgive myself for, no matter how many times I convince myself otherwise!

Millie: Moxxie, you don't have to tell me if you don't-

Moxxie: I killed her.

Millie: (Eyes Slowly Begins to Widened in Complete Shock) .......What?

Moxxie: I killed my own mother, Millie. With my own bare hands. F-Father and I were riding on a boat one night, i-in the middle of the late, and he had her tied up under a brown sack....a-and her ankles tied up in a rope connected to a brick-

Millie: (Already Fuming in Pure Anger) And HE made you kill her? Your own father.

Moxxie: Yeah....('Sniff') He made me drop her down in the lake, where she can never be heard from again.....('Sniff') I didn't even know it was her until I saw one of her heels floating up.on the surface.....('Sniff') (Whimpers Begins to Show the More He Starts Talking) I'm a monster, Millie.....A horrible monster!

Millie: No, you are not, Moxxie! Crimson was the one who forced you do all of this!

Moxxie: (Turns to Millie with Deep Sadness and Regret Written All Over his Face) But I went along and did anyway!

Millie: You were a CHILD back then, Mox! You were young, scared, and didn't know any better at the time! And even then, you COULDN'T have known that was your own mother in that sack!

Moxxie: Y-Y-Yeah, but.....('Sniff') I still hurt her......Me. Hwe('Sniff') (Turns Away While Brining Both his Knees Up to his Chin, Hugging Them Tightly) Not like it matters anyways. She's gone npw....and she'll....probably spend the rest of her afterlife despising me.....

This is upsetting.....To watch the love of her life, the man who love and cherish her since the day they both fell for each other, look so.... distraught, broken, and blaming himself for something that wasn't completely his fault at the time....it ignited two emotions within Millie. One was sadness and concern for her husband and the other was pure, unadulterated anger towards the man who has not only abused his only son but forced him to end the life of his own wife, the woman who had to put up with crap for lucifer knows how long!

This makes her wish she should've killed him off back at the arranged marriage, maybe even plan on calling Blitzo up to assist her in getting back him for every bit of damage he caused to Moxxie. But she realize that it's not the time for any of this right now. Now it's the time for her to cool down, stay calm, and be there for the man she fell in love with.

Millie: (Takes a Deep Breath Before Slowly Placing her On Moxxie's Knee) Listen Mox, I know I may not know a lot about your mother right now, but from what you've told me about earlier.....(Gives Moxxie a Small, Reassuring Smile on her Face) There's no doubt in my mind that she would still love you regardless of everything that happened.

Moxxie: (Slowly Looks Up at Millie) You....really think so?

Millie: (Happily Nodded) I know so, honey. And even if she does end up hating, which I, full-heartdly, believe that's not the case, you still have folks like me and Blitz, who loves you so much and would go through heaven and back to keep you safe from anyone who dares try lay a finger on you.

Moxxie: (Almost at a Loss For Words) Millie......

Millie: (Gently Places her Hands on Both of Moxxie's Cheeks) And one more thing, baby, I don't give a damn what anyone says. You are NOTHING like Crimson. You may have the same genes and last name, but you are already twice the man than that smug-face bastard wishes he was. And if we ever settled down and make our own family, I know for a damn fact that you'll be amazing dad to our one-to crap ton of our damn kids!!!

Moxxie: (Starts Snickering a Bit) One-to-crap ton?

Millie: (Starts Giggling a Bit) Yes, baby!~ One-to-crap ton. I've been taking care of my siblings 'til I left the nest on my own, I can handle momhood!

Moxxie: (Chuckles Lightly) I know you have it takes! You're not known as the Angel of Death for nothing, you know?

Millie: (Proudly Nodded) Damn. Straight. You feeling better now, 'hun?

Moxxie: Yeah. (Starts Wiping Small Bits of his Tears Away) I'm not 100% mentally, but I'll try and get over eventually.

Millie: (Gives Moxxie a Loving Hug) Take all the time as you need to ease your mind. I'm not going anywhere.

Moxxie: (Hugs Millie Back) I'm not expecting you to. I love you with all my heart, Millie.

Millie: I love you with all mines too, baby~

M&M begins their slow, sensual make-out session as they hold each other close for comfort.

Moxxie: Hey. Millie?

Millie: Yes, honey?

Moxxie: (Slowly Pulls Away From Millie's Lips For Now) I've been thinking. Since we actually have the day off to ourselves for once tomorrow......(Rubs the Back of his Head Back and Forth) How about we hit the gym together. Maybe do a sparring match or two.to pass the time.

Millie: (Eyes Widened a Bit in Genuine Surprise) You actually want give a gym day a try AND spar with me? What made you wanna do all of that?

Moxxie: (Shrugs) I figured I try pulling my own weight around our team and not hold to you and Bitz any longer than I should

Millie: (Pouts at her Husband) Moxxie! You are NOT a burden to either us!

Moxxie: (Gently Grab Hold of Millie's Hands) I know, I know. I just want to improve myself is all. At least in combat. I'm not close being as strong as you are, but it couldn't hurt to try.

Millie: ('Sigh') Yeah, you are right about that. I'll be your sparring partner for tomorrow. (Forms a smirk on her Face) IF you give me some cuddles and lovin' for the rest of the night~

Moxxie: (Happily Nodded) I can do that. Been wanting to give you my thanks for helping for the evening~

Millie: Then why don't you start doing so right now, pumpkin~ The night's young, ya know?

Moxxie: As you wish, my dear~

And so, the M&M spend the rest of the night picking up where they left off in their kissing session.

The past memories has never been too kind for Moxxie and it'll take a while for him to move on from it completely. But he's still content on living the rest of his live with people he cares about and for his mom sake, may she rest in peace.

@keyenuta

@cyber-wildcat

@caleb13frede

@albion-93

@ma-lemons

@helluva-blog

@italian-love-cake

[jlf23tumble]

x

[starryhyuck]

pretty girl. (m)

pairing: alpha!jaemin x reader

words: 4.3k+

summary: you hate that jaemin follows you around every full moon. you’re determined to know the reason why, but you end up getting more than you asked for.

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: large amounts of cum, manhandling, breeding, knotting, overstimulation, fingering, hair pulling, rough sex, oral sex

“It’s dangerous for you to be out here.”

You blink twice at Jaemin, who is hovering protectively over your form. As your best friend, Jaemin’s always been cautious of you because of his alpha instincts. This oddly includes finding him in your apartment on random days, cooking you dinner because you ‘can’t make it yourself,’ walking you around campus and glaring at anyone who glances your way, and finally, following you to places he should never be at anyways. Tonight falls under the last category, where you were itching to have a nice time with some of your group partners in your Economics class. You all collectively agreed that grabbing drinks at the nearby bar on campus was a good idea. Everything was going perfectly until Jaemin came storming into the bar, almost pushing one of your friends from his spot next to you.

You awkwardly clear your throat, laughing breathily as you stand, trying to move Jaemin away from the table. You can feel the heavy stares of your classmates on your back, and you try your best to ignore it. Once you’re out of earshot, you mumble lowly to him.

“Uh, Jaem, why are you here?”

He frowns at you. The expression on his face is clearly one of disappointment. “It’s a full moon. You shouldn’t be out here, especially if there are other alphas lurking around.”

You tend to frequently forget that Jaemin gets extremely clingy when the full moon rises, and he often perceives most of the population as a threat to your life. In fact, you’re both very good friends with Jeno, another fellow alpha on campus. Jeno’s shown time after time that he has absolutely no interest in you, but when the full moon appears, Jaemin’s convinced that Jeno wants to kidnap you and keep you locked in his dorm forever.

You sigh. “Jaemin, I’m fine. I’m just hanging out with my friends. There are no alphas around, I promise.”

His frown grows deeper. “I passed two of them on the way here. They could have easily hurt you.”

“How about you have a drink with us?” You offer, knowing his worries aren’t subsiding anytime soon. “You can relax and make sure I’m safe.”

The tension in his shoulders loosen at your suggestion, and he hesitantly agrees. You order a beer for him and he reluctantly follows you back to the table. Your friends are eyeing him warily.

“Everyone, this is Jaemin,” you introduce awkwardly. “Is it okay if he joins us?”

Jeongyeon is the first to speak, despite everyone’s reluctance. “Sure, the more the merrier!”

You toss her a grateful smile and Jaemin slides in next to you, unaware of the looks he’s receiving. Luckily, Seulgi launches into a discussion about her day before anyone else can comment. It isn’t long before Chanwoo leans over to whisper in your ear, causing Jaemin to stiffen beside you.

“Is your friend okay? He looks like he hates all of us.”

You brush off Chanwoo’s question. “He’s fine, just tense. Rough time in the semester, you know?”

Chanwoo nods but doesn’t seem convinced by your answer. No one else approaches you about Jaemin for the rest of the time, and the boy next to you chooses to remain silent. You bid goodbye to the group at the end of the night with Jaemin giving subtle nods to each of them. He still hovers protectively over you on the walk back to the campus dorms.

“You really didn’t have to come out tonight,” you mumble to your best friend as he walks alongside you. “I was fine on my own.”

“You’re not fine on nights like these,” he responds, and you can hear the frustration in his tone. “You don’t know what’s out there.”

You huff and stop in your tracks, turning around to face him. You cross your arms over your chest.

“No one is going to hurt me! No one has ever tried to hurt me on a full moon, it’s just your imagination! It’s annoying how much you follow me around, Jaemin, seriously.”

He’s visibly hurt by your outburst and you instantly feel regret. You can almost feel him shutting you away, and it pulls at your chest. He motions to your dorm, which is only a few feet away from where you’re standing.

“Good night. I hope you sleep well.”

“Jaemin-“

You watch as your best friend scurries down the sidewalk, not sparing a single glance back at you.

—

You startle Jeno the next day, pounding on his door and ignoring the glares you’re receiving in his hallway. The boy sleepily opens the door up for you, hair sticking out in multiple directions. He mumbles something under his breath and you ignore him, pushing through and entering his room.

“Well, come on in,” he hisses sarcastically.

You have no time to humor him. “Are alphas usually super clingy and annoying?”

He pauses at the question, closing the door slowly. You raise an eyebrow at his hesitation.

“Um, is this about Jaemin?”

“Maybe,” you drawl, watching Jeno carefully. He definitely knows something he’s not telling you about. “And what if it was?”

“Then I would say you need to talk to Jaemin.”

You roll your eyes. “Jeno!”

“What?” He retorts, avoiding your eyes as much as possible. “It’s not my place to say.”

“I don’t care if it’s your place or not,” you say, frustrated by your lack of alpha knowledge. You’ve tried to learn more since Jaemin presented himself, but it was difficult since many alpha secrets were kept between alphas only. “I need to know what’s going on with him. He’s been following me around every full moon like he’s expecting me to get mugged or something!”

Jeno exhales loudly. “He hasn’t talked to you? About anything?”

You huff. “Jeno, if I needed answers, I wouldn’t be standing here with you.”

The more you talk, the more Jeno grows uncomfortable. It almost seems like it pains him to say anything about Jaemin without him present, and it’s getting on your nerves. Jaemin usually never keeps secrets from you and it must be pretty big if Jeno is barely holding himself together.

Jeno finally speaks after you watch him run circles in his head. “What do you know about mates? Alpha mates?”

You frown, tilting your head to the side. “Mates? I didn’t even know alphas had mates.”

“They’re chosen specifically by an alpha. Someone the alpha has a connection to, someone they would like to spend the rest of their life with.”

He’s still not making any sense to you. Does Jaemin have a mate? Is it someone you know?

Jeno can see the gears spinning and he scoffs. He whispers something under his breath that you can’t hear.

“You need to talk to Jaemin about this. I really can’t say any more.”

You spare Jeno the interrogation and leave his room, thoughts swirling in your head. He’s given you everything and nothing at once, and you don’t even know if Jaemin will offer anything better. You trek over to his dorm anyways, on a mission.

His eyes soften when he sees you behind the door. It tugs at your heartstrings and he motions for you to come inside. The awkward tension drowns the room and you sway on your feet.

“I’m sorry,” he says first. “I know I made you uncomfortable by being with your friends last night, and I should’ve stayed away. I just get very worried around the full moon because-“

“What are alpha mates?”

Jaemin chokes, not expecting your question. You watch as he gathers himself again, and this time, he can’t bear to look at you.

“Where did you hear that from?”

“Jeno.”

Jaemin curses lowly. You frown, your gaze never faltering. You can practically see him trying to come up with some type of excuse.

“Jaemin, I want the truth.”

He sighs. “Can you sit down? Please?”

You reluctantly follow his request, taking a seat on his bed. He paces around the room, looking more nervous than you’ve ever seen him before. You begin to grow antsy while watching him.

“If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine.”

His head snaps up to look at you, heart breaking at the dejected look on your face. He shakes his head and takes a seat next to you.

“I do, I want to tell you everything. I just want you to have a choice first,” he states, staring at you as if you hold all the answers.

You frown and shake your head. “What choice? You’re not making any sense.”

“I, uh, I unknowingly bonded myself to you. You became my mate, and I realized it too late. We spent too much time together and I should have taken a step back before it got too serious. I was just- I’m never in the correct headspace when I’m around you, and it causes me to impulsively make decisions. I can’t break the bond unless I wish to die a slow death, but if you want me to, I can try.”

You’re spiraling. Your brain is short circuiting, and you’re unsure of what to say in response. Your best friend has just confessed that he bonded himself to you for life, which probably runs deeper than marriage. If you reject him, he’ll die a painful death.

Wonderful.

Jaemin starts freaking out, standing back up and resuming his pacing. “Fuck, I shouldn’t have said anything. I should have left weeks ago, I shouldn’t even be bothering you with this. Listen, we can forget this ever happened. I’ll just- I’ll figure something out. Surely, I can break the bond-“

“Jaemin,” you say timidly. He stops in his tracks at the sound of your voice. “I think I’m okay with being your mate. I mean, I’d rather have it be you than anyone else. Not like you’re my second choice or anything! I just-“

He kneels down, his hands resting on the expanse of your thighs, causing you to jolt at the contact. His hands feel oddly warm, and it’s sending a plethora of dirty thoughts to your head.

“I don’t want you to do this because you feel bad,” he speaks softly. “If you don’t want this, we don’t have to do it. It’s my fault, and I’ll pay the price.”

You protest. “No, I’m doing this because I want to-“

“It’s a big decision-“

“I know that, and I-“

“I hardly think you’ve thought through this carefully-“

“Don’t tell me what I haven’t done-“

“I’ll just move away. It’ll be easier for the both of us that way.”

“Jaemin,” you hiss, placing your hands on his shoulders to stop him. “Can you quit being so difficult? I’m telling you I want to be with you and your rejection is making me feel upset.”

His expression falls. “I didn’t mean to make you upset. I don’t want to cage you in, that’s all.”

“You aren’t caging me in,” you promise him. “Can you tell me what being a mate entails?”

He flushes deep red, and you grow anxious once again. He removes his hands from your thighs and you silently wish he kept them there. He stands again, avoiding your questioning gaze.

“Um, well, technically- I mean, it’s just-“

“Jaemin,” you say sternly. “Stop dancing around the subject.”

He clears his throat. “Technically, we’re not fully mated yet. In order to complete the bonding process, we need to- um, well, we need to-“

“Jaemin!”

“We need to fuck!”

That definitely floors you. You blink at him, not believing what he said. You haven’t slept with anyone in months. You’re not going to lie — you’ve thought about Jaemin in that way a handful of times, mostly when it’s late at night and you’re left with an imaginative mind. You didn’t realize it could ever become a reality.

He starts rambling again. “Of course, I don’t want to make you do anything you’re uncomfortable with. I can’t imagine me putting my dick anywhere near you is appealing at the moment, so we can probably just forget it and-“

You say his name again to bring him out of his thoughts. “Can we try?”

He sputters, more than the last time. “W-What?”

“I mean, it can’t hurt, right? I trust you.”

“U-Uh, um, uh, I-“ He short circuits in front of you, struggling to find coherent words.

You don’t give him time to second guess again, immediately falling to your knees and reaching for the band of his sweatpants.

“Woah, woah, wait, let me just-“

Your mouth waters when you pull his cock out from his briefs, the tip already red and leaking. You don’t know if it’s because he’s an alpha, but his cock is absurdly large and thick. You can barely wrap your hand around the base and the thought of taking him into your mouth is daunting, but you would regret it if you didn’t try. You take an experimental lick, watching the way Jaemin struggles above you.

“Slow down, we don’t have to do this now-“

You ignore him again, enveloping the tip in your mouth as he releases a long groan. Your eyes flutter shut, pushing him deeper and deeper into your throat. You run your tongue along the base of his cock, licking and swallowing him. He’s barely holding on to the last string of his control, and you can tell by the way his hands are clenched at his sides.

You decide to push him further, casually deepthroating him and locking your gaze with his. The sound of you choking on him snaps him awake, and it isn’t long before he’s gripping your hair and throwing you on his bed. You squeal at the force of his movements. He pushes you on your stomach, fingers gripping the flesh of your ass.

He hisses in your ear. “You’re going to be a good girl for your alpha, aren’t you?”

“I’ll be good, alpha,” you keen. “I’m good for you.”

“Yeah?” He grunts, watching as you arch your back. “You’ve been waiting a long time for me, haven’t you?”

“So long,” you practically sob. “Just want my alpha to make me feel good.”

You hear the rip of your skirt and he tears the fabric of your top, tossing both items across the room. He’s feral at this point and you have no intention of stopping him. It feels electrifying to have him this close to you, touching you in all the places you never thought before.

Even though he’s your best friend, it feels as if he’s been doing this with you for years. He doesn’t feel like a stranger as he grabs your waist, finger running up and down your clothed slit.

“Aw, pretty girl, look at how wet you are for me,” he muses, pulling your underwear down to fully see you. “So beautiful. Is this all for me?”

“Yes,” you whimper. “All for you, just for you.”

You see stars when he sinks his finger into you, moaning at his touch. You hear him murmur behind you.

“So so perfect, so pretty and wet. You’re so good for your alpha.”

You flourish under Jaemin’s praises, his eyes observing as you submit further to him. You wish you read more on the subject of alphas and their mates. The way Jaemin’s touching you is sending your mind into overdrive, and you’re not even sure what to do when you hear the slick of your cunt as he slides another finger into you. He’s cooing at you, chanting how you’re such a ‘good girl’ for him.

You shut your eyes as he builds a steady pace with his fingers, brushing against your sweet spot. You moan loudly, not registering the volume of your voice. He doesn’t seem to mind you being loud either.

“Such pretty noises,” he hums, digging his other hand into your side and picking up the pace inside of you. You cry and squirm away from him, but he holds you in place. “I imagined for so long what you would sound like. Full moons were the worst. I couldn’t bear the thought of someone else being able to see you like this, touch you like this. You drove me insane.”

“J-Jaemin,” you whimper, getting closer and closer to snapping.

He hums again in response. “Almost there, sweet girl? You’re so pliant for me, so easy to fuck. But it’s all for me and only me, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, yes, only for you, alpha,” you whisper, fingers gripping the sheets as you near the edge.

“Pretty little pussy you have, I can’t wait to knot you. You’re going to take my knot so well, aren’t you? I chose you to take it, and to stuff your cunt full of my cum. I wonder how I could fit my cock into you, you seem too small to take it, pretty girl.”

“I-I can t-take it,” you struggle to get the words out, your brain turning a bit fuzzy. Once he brushes your sweet spot again, your body explodes and you sob loudly at the intensity of your orgasm. Jaemin praises you throughout it, eyes locked on your cunt gushing into his palm.

“So pretty, such a pretty girl. You came so much for me.”

As you float down from your high, you can hear the sound of Jaemin greedily licking his fingers. You nearly scream when you feel his tongue prod at your pussy.

“No, n-no, Jaem, please-“ you begin to beg, squeamish from the overstimulation, but it’s useless. He loves the taste of your cunt already, digging in like it’s his last meal.

Your body begins to ache and you slowly sink down on the bed, tired of arching your back. Jaemin doesn’t seem to mind, following you down as he slurps up your cunt. You’re mumbling incoherent noises as he sucks on your folds, and you can feel his smile when he plays with your clit.

“Alpha,” you whisper breathlessly. “Alpha, I can’t.”

He clicks his tongue. “I know you can. I chose you because you can. Take what I give you, pretty girl. I know you can be good for me.”

You lay there, boneless, as he dips his tongue into your entrance. You barely scream when your second orgasm rolls over you, the sound catching in your throat. He licks up the evidence and you try to wave your hand back to stop him. He gets the message, pulling back and wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

“You taste so sweet, pretty girl. I’ve never tasted a cunt that good before. All for me, right?”

“Yes,” you answer. “All for you, alpha.”

You hear him shifting behind you, and you see him toss his clothes over his shoulder. He picks you up and adjusts you until you’re seated on his lap, hovering just above his cock. He takes note of your sleepy gaze and smiles, kissing down your neck.

“Tired, sweet girl? Don’t want to take my cock anymore?”

You blearily blink. “No, no, I want to take your cock, alpha. Please give it to me.”

He chuckles at your compliance, eyes zeroing in on your glistening pussy. “You’ve been so good for me. Want your reward now?”

“Yes, yes, alpha.”

He suddenly turns serious, brushing your hair away and cupping your cheeks.

“This means forever. I want you to understand that.”

It’s a little frightening — the thought of being bound to someone forever. However, you’re willing to do anything for Jaemin, and you know he loves you. You’re blissfully happy at the thought of forever.

You nod, smiling. “Want to be with you, Jaem.”

He grins and presses a kiss to your lips. “Good girl.”

Your smile quickly turns into a gasp as he pushes you down on his cock. You scramble in his hold, fingers digging into his shoulders.

He shushes you softly. “It’s okay, pretty girl. I got you, trust me.”

Head thrown back and lips parted, you feel utterly fucked as Jaemin impales you. You weren’t even aware your cunt could stretch this far for him, taking him in. The stretch doesn’t hurt like you think it will, it feels surprisingly satisfying. You feel whole like this, finally connecting him to you.

Once he bottoms out, he gives you time to adjust. You don’t even realize you’re crying until he wipes stray tears from your cheek.

“You’re doing so well for me, sweet girl. Took my cock so well. I know you’ll take my knot like a champ too.”

You feel drunk on him despite the fact that his cock could split you in half. You take a few more seconds to yourself before you nod, giving him the okay to move.

He starts out gently, even though you can see him clenching his teeth trying to control himself. You decide to push him.

You lean in and whisper in his ear. “Fuck me good, alpha. Show me I’m yours, and yours only.”

He throws you back down onto the bed, growling at your submission. You cry when he drills into you, showing no mercy any longer. His cock is tearing you apart and you welcome it with open arms. His fingers dig roughly into your scalp, his other hand groping your breast.

“You like it when your alpha fucks you like this? You like it when I have control of you?” He practically growls at you, hips snapping into your thighs roughly. Your mouth hangs open, and if you were lucid, you would be embarrassed by the drool pooling at the side of your lips. He continues muttering obscenities at you, fueled by the feeling of your warm pussy wrapped around his cock. “Gonna fuck you until you can’t think of anyone else. Every time you touch yourself, you’re going to think about me. Only me. I’m going to make sure everyone knows you’re mine, make sure you’re pretty and pregnant for me.”

His fingers move from your breast into your mouth, and you subconsciously suck on the digits.

He snickers. “Look at you. Such a pretty fuck toy for me, taking my cock so well. You were made to be fucked, sweet girl. Made to take my cock and my cock only.”

You’re definitely out of coherent thoughts at this point. Jaemin flips you again, arching your back and you whimper at the ache. He drives into you harder and faster from behind, his balls slapping against your cunt in the most unholy way.

“Alpha, alpha, alpha,” you groan. “My alpha. So good, my alpha, so good. So big.”

“Need you to cum, sweet girl. Want to feel it. Give it to me, pretty girl.”

“Alpha, alpha,” you whimper, the coil in your stomach building and building. You soar when it snaps, and you swear you see white clouding your vision. You cry and cry, tears freely falling down your face as you clench around Jaemin.

You think you pass out for a few seconds. When you regain your strength, he’s flipped you on your side, gripping your ankle as he throws your foot over his shoulder. You let him do whatever he wants at this point, enjoying the way he presses against your clit every time he pushes in.

You can only hear parts of what he’s saying, a ringing sound still echoing in your ears.

“So good- such a pretty cunt- want to fuck you forever- going to show you off- beautiful- fucking pretty pussy- such a good girl for me.”

“J-Jaem,” you say, but you know he can’t hear you anymore. You think you have another orgasm, but the pleasure is mixing together too fast. You blackout again, waking up moments later to find Jaemin still fucking you senseless.

You’re on your back again with Jaemin hovering over you, pressing kisses down your neck. He’s muttering praises still, hands digging into your sides.

“Want to feel you forever. So good for me, pretty girl. You ready to take my knot?”

You lazily comb your fingers through his hair, feeling exhausted. “Please, alpha, give it to me.”

“Yeah?” He groans, pressing harder into you. “Want me?”

“I want you, I want you,” you echo, the familiar sensation pulsing through your veins.

He’s drilling faster now, pumping furiously into you as he chases his high. You think you’re screaming, but you can’t be entirely sure. You feel bad for whoever lives on Jaemin’s floor.

When he cums, you swear he’s been holding it in for years. His cum splashes against your walls as he empties himself inside of you. You squeeze around him again, finishing another orgasm.

It’s a few minutes later when you think it’s finally over. You start to relax, but the feeling is short lived. You sob when the base of Jaemin’s cock begins to swell, growing bigger and bigger.

“N-No, no, no, no-“

He shushes you. “It’s okay, pretty girl. You take my knot so well, I have so much cum for you.”

You swear you’ve lost your mind when Jaemin does, in fact, give you even more of his cum. It starts to leak out of your cunt because of the sheer amount, and he urges you through it with soft kisses. When he’s finally done, you feel like you’ve been fucked into the next century.

The only thing you can manage to say is, “You can’t fuck me again for three months, at least.”

He laughs at you and you try to throw him a serious look. He kisses your cheek.

“Oh, silly girl. What did I tell you before? I chose you because you’re made for me. You honestly don’t think I’m going to stop fucking you now, do you?”

Your eyes widen at his confession, and you shriek when he thrusts into you, his cock still hard.

“Such a pretty girl.”

[dabisqueen]

In The Dark

Shigaraki x Reader

⇢ rating: 18+

⇢ word count: roughly 1.4K

⇢ plot: you had a bad day at work and try to distract yourself in an arcade, not expecting that type of distraction when you meet a young gamer

⇢ warnings: 18+, sloppy kisses, fingering, some noncon vaginal sex, orgasm, cream pie, cum

⇢ NO MINORS ALLOWED!!!

personal note: woke up this morning and had this in my head, drabbled it down within half an hour

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It had been a shit day. As I was walking home I thought of a proper distraction and stopped next to an Arcade close to my apartment complex. I heard the chiming bings from a pinball game, gunfire sounds and other gaming noises seeping through the door and thought why not, would be worth a shot.

As I entered I noticed rows of machines with colorful pictures on the sides, glowing screens, ragged worn out patterned carpet and I had to squint my eyes in the dim light so I could see more against the stark contrast of the glowing screens. I felt out of place with my work blouse and skirt among hoodies and torn jeans, bright colored hair and sneakers.

I stood there, contemplating on what to play and decided on an easy arcade game. It wasn't that crowded yet so there were a few available. I slipped in a coin and started playing and as expected, failed miserably. But hey, wasn't here to win. I entered another coin for another round, and failed again. I started grinning, at least this was fun and I had lasted a little longer. Several coins later I actually managed to hold out but then had my sorry ass beaten again. That's when I heard a coarse low chuckle behind me.

Turning around I noticed I had an onlooker. He was dressed in black sweatpants, hands shoved in his pockets, the black hoodie pulled over his head and pale messy tufts of his hair obscuring his face. I could only make out his crimson eyes, glaring at me with curiosity, almost glowing in the dim light.

"Don't come here often, do you?" His voice quiet and hoarse, "Never seen you here before."

I shrugged "First time, had a shit day at work. Need some distraction."

"Is that so," he chuckled lowly.

"Can you play this?'' I asked him and pointed at my game.

He tilted his head, scoffing "I can play anything."

"Mind if you show me, I really suck at this,“ I giggled lightly.

He just stepped up beside me and, pushing me off to the side with his shoulder, took over. He slipped a coin into the slot and his hands mercilessly started working the controllers as I watched in awe, winning round after round until he finally managed to get to the top level, setting a new record score.

I leaned closer to him and he flinched a bit at first but then seemed to relax. "That was – hot. Can you do that again?" I whispered breathlessly.

He nodded looking at me. This close I could see his face, thin sensual, yet chapped lips, fine long nose, a scar across his mouth and eye. Kinda cute. He smelled of damp linen and dust, a smell somehow familiar and soothing, like laying down in the cold sheets of your bed at night.

Our eyes met and time stood still as his red orbs bore into mine. My breath hitched under his intense gaze and he tore me out of my stupor by rasping "Let's play, but not this one."

He walked off into another smaller room, gesturing me to follow him. The lights there were dim, and he stopped in front of a couple of machines in the corner, inserting a coin into one of them and started playing. It was an arcade street fighter game and he managed to whipe through each level at astonishing speed. I wondered who this guy was as he worked the machine, always having his pinkies raised. I scooted closer, almost touching him, totally mesmerized by his actions. When the game ended and he set yet another high score he turned around, his face so close our noses were almost touching. I felt my heart skip a beat as the tip of his tongue darted out and snaked across his dry lips. It sent a jolt of hot pleasure right through my core, heat building between my thighs as we both inhaled each other's breath. His hand suddenly grabbed my wrist with three fingers and, pushing his body forward against mine, made me stumble backwards through a gap between the two machines.

Behind them was a small nook, just enough space for two people. Cables and wire lay on the floor and I almost tripped over them when he shoved me against the wall. His lips suddenly crashed on mine, licking, sucking and mouthing at me, his tongue intertwining with mine. His lips were dry but I didn't mind, that roughness actually felt quite pleasant. His hands started roughly groping at my breasts, pinkie always raised. His kisses and movements were a bit sloppy but feverish and his enthusiasm more than made up for it. Heated moans started escaping my mouth and he eagerly sucked them up, a sharp, throaty chuckle rolling up his chest.

His hand trailed down, pulled my skirt up, shoved my panties aside and plunged his fingers inside. I wailed out, threw my head back as he kept kissing my neck, biting it, sucking bloody marks. His actions turned rougher, harder and I winced, trying to move, but I was impaled by him, pressed against the wall. I felt his hot bulging crotch rub against my body as he was getting himself off on me, raspy groans leaving his mouth. My breathing turned erratic as he took up the pace with his fingers and soon had me moaning shamelessly as the heat between my thighs turned into a singing burn.

Suddenly he grabbed me and yanked me around with surprising ease, shoving me against the wall. His hand held me tight around my neck, face pressed against the dark cold stone of the wall, making it impossible for me to move. I struggled and writhed as he fumbled with his sweatpants behind me, pulling out his throbbing cock. His hand was still on my neck, impaling me as his other grabbed his hard flesh and shoved my panties aside with it, aligning himself at my entrance. I protested "Need protec–" but was cut off by his cackling giggle as he sheathed himself inside me with one strong thrust. His girth was immense and I wailed out in pain, closing my eyes. My cries were suffocated by the loud noises belching through the arcade, the sounds of crashes and gunfires, kids shouting and laughing.

He started thrusting into me, not giving me any time to adjust. I bit my lower lip to suppress more sobs as silent tears ran down my cheeks and wet the wall I was pressed against. His hand found my hips and he dug his fingers into my flesh, increasing the pace. Through all the uncomfortable pain he just rubbed the right spots in my sensitive walls, sending a tingling sensation through my body that rapidly grew into full blown pleasure. A familiar pressure built up inside of me as I noticed his movements becoming faster and more erratic. He was close. Very close. Just the thought of him cumming, our lewd noises, the fact that I was being fucked by a stranger in an arcade sent me hurling over the edge and I arched my back as I came, buckling in his tight hold, loud moans falling from my lips. I gargled "Not... inside...“ but he didn't listen. His hips slammed against my ass one more time and then he came with a raspy grunt, spilling his seed deep inside of me. He worked himself in and out of me a couple of times before he stopped and pulled out, tying his pants back up. I sagged down against the wall, head still pressed against it, legs too weak to stay straight and closed my eyes.

He brushed a sweaty strand of hair from my tear stained cheek and rasped into my ear "There's your distraction," pressed his lips against my temple and left. I sank down onto the floor trying to collect myself, waiting for my body to regain its strength. As I was finally able to stand up, I pulled my skirt down with shaking hands and wiped my face dry, smudging my mascara in the process. I stumbled out from between the machines, thighs damp from his release and wound my way through the bodies. No one seemed to notice my disheveled state and I finally stepped outside, glad that it had gotten dark, welcoming the lack of light to disguise the sight of my exploited self. I staggered off into the direction of my apartment complex, unaware of the black hooded figure lurking in the dark, crimson eyes almost feverish with burning hunger as he followed me down the street.

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Masterlist

@sage-malf0y @scruffymctee @undefined--person @diamond-3 @vixxen-chan @tirzamisu @b--n--d

[bloomyagi]

bleed me dry (m)

summary: where Itadori is your bottom-loving boyfriend and Sukuna reluctantly learns this vessel is the real curse. or: where seduction is a dangerous game, and the King of Curses loses.

pairings: itadori x f!reader, sukuna x f!reader

warnings: subby itadori, sub sukuna (yeah you read that right), light bondage, blindfolds, sukuna’s havin a whole ‘reconsidering life’s meaning’ moment, lotta swear cause u know sukuna things, coming untouched, he faints (yeah you also read that right) and is actually unabashed about it, all things considered

length: 1,432

notes: what? me? obsessed with jjk? that doesn’t sound like me at all! 

.

.

.

His vessel is in love.

The word curdles in his mouth, tastes like ash. He has never known such a thing. It is part of his nature, he muses absently. Hardened from centuries of death and decay. Of destruction and war. He revels in it. Feels the most alive amongst the chaos.

But that’s the point. Curses can feel. They can have emotional attachment. Can’t you see? In so many ways, they’re not so different from us. He thinks you’re too loud. Your thoughts and beliefs are too loud. They’re also pointless and naïve, and he likes to pop by just to drive it home.

Hello, Sukuna. Where is the fear? Where is the resentment, the anger? The disgust? He enjoys it. But you—you just sit there and coax him into conversation like he’s another one of your classmates. Like he can’t crush your windpipe with a single flick of his hand. Like he isn’t the slow bleed of a death sentence for your lover. Like he isn’t anything at all. Like his titles and powers are stripped. What is he beyond it all? Who is he?

You ask about him sometimes. He rarely gives any indication he’s listening, but he does. Of course he does. There’s not much to do, bound and locked in this pink-haired boy. He lounges on this throne and watches his vessel pine and blush.

Sukuna watches his vessel fuck his fist and mewl your name every night.

It’s sad. “Brat,” he hisses. “Grow some balls. This is just pathetic.”

Itadori swallows. “Oh. Can you—?”

Sukuna shoves him off the ledge. A faint yelp travels, followed by a large splash. “Fuck her already. All this sitting and plotting is making my ass itch. If you won’t, I will.”

“You wouldn’t.” Sukuna tilts his head to peer down. Itadori’s eyes are narrowed, uncharacteristically solemn.

His lips bare into a slow grin. “Try me.”

Itadori blinks once. And then vanishes.

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.

.

Fuck. It’s the only coherent thought his muddled mind can pierce together. He gazes down at his palm, opening and closing languidly. His vision is blurry, spine tingling. He raises the other hand, reaching for his palm.

Mmm. He shakes his head firmly. The sharp tinge of metallic and iron coating his tongue clears the fog a little. The pain fades quickly, muted from his years of conquest and ruin.

Every nerve is on fire. His skin, this flesh cage, burns, an unfamiliar heat curling in his lower stomach. Sukuna is no stranger to the pleasures of the flesh—is well-acquainted, spent much of the centuries indulging in his vast harems. In the haze of blood and carnage, there is the memory of writhing bodies, of soft thighs and breasts, of glazed eyes and cries of his name. Of women fucked into wanton abandon, bred and lost in the worship of his cock.

But this. This heat is foreign in every sense. In its strange intensity and all-encompassing hold. All his senses are heightened but laser focused on the other pair of hands mapping his body. On the addicting sensations they’re inducing.

Can you—? Yes. Yes, he fucking can. He can feel everything and he wants to wrap his hand around your throat and squeeze.

His eyes roll back. Ngh.

“Fucking wench,” he snarls. You’re a fuckin’ tease and if you edge him again, he is going to murder—

“Ah, ah. Watch your language, Sukuna. Ask nicely.”

He jolts. Finds his eyes cloaked in darkness, arms tied to his back and legs spread. Bare, save for a pair of briefs that’s slick and restricting. Kneeling. The sheets bunch beneath him. Every muscle in his body is tensed, body coated in a thin layer of sweat.

This position—!

“That brat—mmph!” Is that a fucking—gag? Did you just gag him? He struggles harder against the binds, but he feels your lips curl into a smile where you’re suckling against the column of his neck.

“You’re powerless here. The binds will restrict you for the next twenty-four hours … unless you can be good.” You trace the thick knots, smiling only growing at the way he lets out a muffled growl.

Every fucking sense is heightened tenfold. He’s on firefirefire. The flames consuming him inside out, like he’s being exorcised from within.  

It’s humiliating. It’s exhilarating. It feels—

“King of Curses. I want you to beg.” You’re a witch. You’re enthralling. Temptation incarnate. His head falls forward, chest heaving.

“Mmmmf!”

“What a dirty mouth,” you murmur, and his struggling is renewed when he feels your fingers dig into his thighs.

Oi, brat, he growls. What the hell is this?

His vessel is silent, but the back of his mind prickles. He’s watching. That freaky little shit.

“So stubborn. Let go. You’re good at that, aren’t you?” Fuckfuckfuck, you’re palming his cock over the thin fabric. Maybe it’s been a while, maybe there’s a little more truth lurking beneath it, but he vaguely notes he’s never been so hard before.

You—! You’re fuckin’ burning his briefs off. Ash tickles his nose. A small part of him thinks it’s hot. His cock throbs, and even without visual confirmation, he knows you’ve paused at the sheer size. His mouth curls into a lopsided smirk, dark pride making his chest swell. What was he so worked up for? You’ll just end being another one of his breeding bitches, fucked stupid by his thick, long cock.

But then you pinch his left nipple, twisting harshly. Electricity courses through him and a sound he’s never heard in his absurdly long life escape his lips, muffled by the gag. His back arcs, head hitting the mattress beneath him.

His mind blanks, eyes rolling back as white noise fills his ears.

.

.

.

He rouses slowly.

He blinks lethargically at the ceiling, gaze unfocused. Everything feels muted, limbs heavy like he’s swimming in a pool of ink. But he’s not restrained anymore. There’s a blur of movement in the corner of his eye.

He turns his head to peer at you, half-lidded.

“That’s a very nice expression,” you chuckle, moving to sit by his side. The mattress dips lightly. He lifts a hand to tug at the hem of your outfit, expression twisting at the staggering movement.

“That’s a very nice look on you,” he murmurs in response. You’re wearing one of his vessel’s dress shirts, the oversized fabric falling mid-thigh. It simultaneously swallows you and presses against your curves. Something inside him stirs. His throat feels shot, even though he knows he hasn’t had much of a chance to speak.

You help him sit up, propped against the headrest, before offering him a glass of water. His lips lift into a half-smirk and you sigh, shaking your head but acquiescing. You take a mouthful before kissing him. Water dribbles down his chin.

You wipe it away with a half-fond, half-exasperated expression. His chest tightens.

“How long—?” He tries to move, but you stop him with a firm hand. He’s conflicted at the way his body responds immediately to the touch. His temperature flares despite his obvious fatigue.

“A few hours. I asked if Yuuji would keep you out until you woke.”

There’s a pause, and the knowing look in your eye tells him you know he’s mulling it over.

And then—

He reaches for you, and you set the glass aside to climb on his lap.

He bares his fangs. “Then let’s make the most of it.”

As you press him into the bed, tongue stroking his in such a manner his brain is starting to haze over again quickly, he thinks, brat, we’re going to have a long talk after this.

Sukuna doesn’t expect an answer after his vessel’s continued vigil, so he starts when Itadori replies, she’s ours.

I don’t share, he slurs. He thinks he sees a flicker of Itadori’s grin.

You’re going to have to. Because you like her, too. And she’s the one in control, not either of us.

Dimly, Sukuna acknowledges he’s right. You might be the one bouncing on his cock, but he’s not the one fucking you, you’re the one fucking him.

Fine, he gasps as you run your nails down his abdomen. Deal.

Good, his vessel says. Because I’m next, and you better not get in the way.

He growls, eyebrows knitting.

Your smile only grows.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mark of the Beast

Please be kind. I haven’t written werewolves before and this is an unedited drabble I did to distract myself. Hope you enjoy werewolf!Thor and needless to say it’s dark.

Reblog and comment if you like, please and thank you.

Warnings: noncon and rape, exophilia, blood, biting.

You sat along the edge of the yard, just at one of those picnic tables set with chips, salsa, and other finger foods; most of it crumbs and smears as the night wore on. The fire licked up into the sky as the strangers chatter drunkenly, laugh loudly, and sing and dance wildly to the music floating from the bassy bluetooth speaker.

Parties were never your scene and you don’t know why you agreed to come. You didn’t even know why you were asked. You never were the fun friend, hell you were often the forgotten one. The one who found out they weren’t invited or when you were privileged enough to be asked along, it was because someone else fell through.

Well you couldn’t take another night in your boxy apartment, sitting there alone as you watched the same shows over and over again. Restless as nothing ever seemed to change and yet time continued to pass you by.

You noticed how as the sky darkened, the guests began to couple up and trickle away from the flames of the tiki torches and the empty keg. You thought this kind of thing was better left to college kids. 

The early summer night was cool and dull blue as clouds streaked the sky. You hadn’t seen the sun directly since noon and it cast an odd haze over the party. Even so, there had been much screaming and shrieking on the oversized slip and slide. Again, these people, you included, were too old to be throwing their drunken bodies around.

Valerie giggled as she hung off the slender man with the black hair. He wore a green button up and black jeans. His clothes were pressed and pristine. He looked out of place amid the group. He looked like you felt.

She grabbed his collar and led him away from the few stragglers still grinding around to the retro tones of TLC. You stood as she headed for the trees. She was your ride and you didn’t feel like staying all night so she could get laid by some stranger. You didn’t even know how she got invited to this.

The sky shifted and dimmed a little more. You collided with a large body as you made to catch up with Valerie. You recognized the blonde man. He’d been lurking throughout the night, socializing over the top of red plastic cup, at one point chatting with the black-haired man Valerie was flirting with and helping tap the keg when it was overturned in some dumb stunt.

“Oh, excuse me,” you said as his large hand settled on your arm, “um, I’m just…”

“You don’t like the party?” he asked in his booming voice.

“What? No, I--”

“You’ve been hiding over here all night,” he said, “and you haven’t looked very happy about it.”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” you countered.

“Well, this is my party,” he said lightly, “Thor.”

He removed his hand from your arm and offered it to you. You looked at it reluctantly then glanced around him.

“I’m here with my friend. We should probably go--”

“The one who just disappeared with my brother?” he chuckled, “I don’t think you want to walk in on that.”

“Then maybe I’ll just call a cab,” you shrugged, “but I should get--”

“Why did you come? To glower in the corner and feel sorry for yourself?”

“No, I… you don’t know me.”

“No, I do not but that is not my doing. You sit here and isolate yourself to the point that anyone who approaches you, cannot break that barrier you’ve put up. The one you blame on those around you but you’re the only one enforcing it,” his blue eyes were pale, almost silver as the clouds darkened, and you realised in that moment how big he was.

“I didn’t ask for your--”

“You wouldn’t know what to ask for if you found the nerve,” he gave a crooked smile, “you don’t know what you want, what you need.”

He leaned in as his voice turned to a growl, something animalistic as he leaned in and his shadow shut out the sky.

“I know I want to leave,” you said as you stepped back, only to hit the low bench behind you.

“Did you not notice?” he asked.

“Notice what?” you sidled along the wood and he stopped you, this time his fingers gripped your arm tightly.

“That everyone else is gone. They’ve found their mate…” he lowered his voice to a gristle, “the moon is close and they must consummate their pairing.”

“What are you--” you gasped as you saw the way his canines pointed dangerously and grazed along his lip.

“All in my pack made their claim,” he whispered as he leaned in and the silver moon flickered behind the wisping clouds, “I’m making mine.”

“Get off--”

Suddenly you were spun around and flung so you landed in the grass, your knees and the heels of your hands scraping against the twigs and pebbles. Before you could try to stand or turn, he was behind you. His large hands braced your throat and he pulled you onto your knees so that your back was to his torso as he lowered himself behind you.

His nose tickled your ear as he inhaled your scent and a growl crackled in his throat. His fingers tightened and you felt sharp claws prodding at your flesh. His breath picked up as you felt his body tremble. The clouds parted at last and the full moon painted the grass silver.

“You have no purpose, I see it,” his voice grinded roughly, “you are lost but I have found you…”

“Let me--” you rasped and wheezed as he choked you harder.

“You don’t know. How can you realise that I have chosen you for a greater need?” he slid one hand to the back of your neck and pushed you down sharply so that you were face down in the grass, “I can smell it on you… ripe for a pup.”

He flipped your over harshly and his hand pressed to your jaw as he squeezed it painfully. You grasped his wrist in terror as the moon limned the fine fur that had risen across his skin, his long blonde hair blending into his thick main as his eyes glowed eerily.

“I… I...what are you?”

“What are you?” he repeated back, “can you tell me that?”

“Please, don’t--”

“You’re mine,” he snarled as he dragged a long nail over your shirt and sliced through the fabric easily, his other hand still framed your jaw, “if you survive, you will carry my pup, if you don’t… an honourable death.”

You slapped at his hand as his fingers hooked in the front of your jeans and he janked them down in a single motion. Your panties caught in the denim as he brought his foot up to push them down to your ankles. He pushed his knee between your thighs and dug a nail into your hip. Hot blood rose around his claw.

“I can smell it all. The loneliness, the desperation, the fear… it’s delicious.”

His claw flicked over your clit lightly as he pushed your folds apart. He played with you as you squirmed helplessly and gripped his arm, one hand on his wrist and the other on his bicep.

“No, no--” you murmured as your body went into shock, the pleasure of his teasing like a muffled shout in your core.

When his hand moved from your cunt, you felt its absence more intensely. He brought his other knee between your legs and pushed them further apart until your jeans slipped from one ankle. He lifted your left leg and hooked his arm under it and leaned on you as he lined himself up.

You pushed on his chest as the moonlight limned his silhouette above you and clenched as he prodded against your entrance. He cradled your face and dropped his head down beside yours as he pinned you under his weight, your leg bent uncomfortably as your other splayed against his hip.

He poked at your resistance and when he finally pushed through, you cried out into the night. He was thick, so thick, and when you thought you could handle no more, he pushed further in. You strained around his cock as he snapped his hips up and when he filled you entirely, you whimpered as you felt him in your stomach.

You tangled your fingers in his hair as his hot breath tickled along the crook of your neck. He pulled back and you let go of the breath in your chest only to suck it back in as he thrust sharply. You whined as he jolted your entire body and sank his teeth into your flesh. The shock of pain mingled in your core and filled your veins with an irresistible heat. He removed his fangs from you and dragged his bloodied lips down your neck.

“If you fight it, you will suffer,” he purred, “give in… you feel it, don’t you?”

He rutted faster as his breath kept time with his hips. Your body was alight against the cool grass as your eyes rolled back. Your moans added to your horror as they rose without thought, roused by the friction of his pelvis against yours and the slapping of flesh on flesh.

He fucked you faster and harder with each tilt and held your head between two hands as he looked down at you. His thumbs rubbed your cheekbones as he kissed you hungrily and the taste of your own blood stained your lips.

You felt hollow and light. The weight of him faded and you were on high and your lashes fluttered as the silver nights and his dark shadowed coloured your vision. You curled your fingers over your chest as you came and arched beneath him like a wild animal. The orgasm sent heat through you from head to toe and you whined and whimpered desperately.

Thor hammered into you even harder and his growls filled your head. He snaked his arm under you and slammed his hips down so viciously that every bone in your body ached.

“Oh, little one,” he snarled, “you take me so well…” his thumb brushed over the bite on your neck, “you wear my mark like a true bitch.”

He buried himself completely and panted rampantly as he spasmed. His cum flooded you and seeped and squelched around him as he gave a final thrust. He held himself as deep as he could and nuzzled your cheek as the smell of his sweat filled your lungs.

“Mine,” his teeth brushed against you and you shivered as a sudden fatigue weighted your eyelids, “that’s it…” his voice grew further and further away, “let it take you, little one.”

[roscgcld]

DAYDREAMING!AU || new reality

;request: rn i’m obsessed with your writing & the daydreaming!reader<33 but i also love angst so what would happen if she ended up getting really hurt protecting another student - hope that wasn’t too weird.. again, i love your writing !!

note: ahaha, i am glad that a lot of people enjoy my daydreaming!reader works; she is also one of my babies as well >< and originally i wasn't going to do this cause i had no idea on what to write - but i had managed to layout a rocky plan before i got some bursts of inspiration lol. ended up becoming too loud though ><” I am sorry for that~

pronouns: she/her

daydreaming!reader masterlist

“There is a chance that she will never wake up from this.”

Shoko gave the others in the room a concerned glance as she glanced up from her tablet, hating how silent it was besides the quiet beeping of the machines around the occupied bed. Laying in the bed was Y/N, a breathing tube carefully inserted into her mouth with the ventilator beside her being the only thing that’s keeping her oxygen levels normal. “The amount of damage she took was quite large. And even though she had managed to regulate quite a strong barrier of Curse Energy around her at all times, it wasn’t enough to brace her for the impact of her being slammed into the build.”

The mission shouldn’t have ended this way - the first and second year students were sent on a mission to deal with a few Finger Bearers that had appeared in the city due to the lack of sorcerers on duty at the time. They were under the care of a few First Grade sorcerers, all hand-picked by Yaga-sensei to ensure the safety of the kids.

However, things rarely go to plan in the jujutsu world.

Yaga-sensei sighs softly as he leans back into his seat, his eyes glancing over at his student that was clearly battling to stay alive. Guilt started to eat him from the inside out, since this was technically his fault. Sure, everyone knows that there is no way that you can go on a mission without enduring some casualties. But the fact is that this was not what he had expected for the outcome to be.. “I am going to kill them myself.”

“G-Gojo-san!” Ijichi hissed out as he glances over at the white haired shaman in the room with wide eyes, the man having been leaning against the wall opposite from the hospital bed with his arms crossed over his chest. His head was tipped forward with an almost too casual expression on his face, yet anyone can tell the barely suppressed anger that lurked underneath. An anger that was only a few moments away from exploding. “You can’t - don’t say things like that!”

“And you expect me to sit back as they failed to save the children?” Gojo asks in a loud voice, effectively squashing whatever confidence Ijichi had built up inside of him. The hand that was resting arm tightened, the veins at the back of his pale hands started to protrude out as Gojo’s anger started to show itself. “I need a good explanation on how their incompetency put our student in this state. 5 First Grades against 3 Special Grade Curses? With 7 talented students by their side and they still can’t handle it? Give me a fucking break.”

“Not everyone can be like you, Satoru.” Yaga-sensei finally mumbles out as he rests his forehead into his hand, fingers pinching at the space between his eyes tiredly. “If anything, it was my fault. I had underestimated the brains of the Finger Bearers, and because of that, all my calculations were wrong. I put retrieving the fingers over numbers. So if you want to find someone to be angry to, the blame is on me.”

The room went quiet after Yaga’s explanation, both Ijichi and Shoko sharing a caution look before casting a glance over at the blindfolded man. After a few tensed moments Gojo pushed himself off the wall and walked out of the hospital room without another word, closing the door behind him quietly; a stark contrast to his usual habit of either slamming the shoji doors too hard, or leaving it open completely.

That out of character move definitely had Shoko sighing in concern. “That idiot...I hope he’s not going to do anything stupid.” She mumbles softly before she turned back to face the young girl laying on the bed, quietly reaching over to brush her fingers through the soft strands that had fallen over Y/N sleeping face. “You better wake up soon, sweetheart...I worry that this might finally push him over the edge.”

Occupying each seat outside of the small waiting area in the infirmary were the other students; wounds bandaged, yet their anxiety was palpable in the air. They had heard what had happened, yet were sheild by the other sorcerers who had called for back-up. Last they heard of Y/N was a scream before what sounded like a building collasping. “Do you think Y/N-senpai is alright?”

Yuji was the first one who dared to break the silence, glancing up from his clenched hands before him to glance at the others. “I mean...it must have been bad, since she was charted off as soon as back up arrived.” Yuji mutters softly as he tightened his fingers together, trying to stop them from shaking. He felt awful - if only he had spared a few seconds to glance over at his senpai, maybe she wouldn’t be in the condition she’s in now. “It’s not every day you’re rushed straight to Ieiri-sensei’s office...”

“...If there is one idiot who can pull through, it’ll be her,” Maki mumbles out quietly after awhile, looking away from her kouhai to stare down at the wooden floors of the building they were in. “Even if it’s bad, she always pulls through it...there is no reason why she can’t do it this time.” She mutters softly just as a pair of footsteps came towards them, causing everyone to look up at the approaching figure. 

Gojo paused when he spotted the others, the question they wanted to ask was clear as day. And for once, Gojo wished that he was able to reassure them like he always does. For him to be able to put up the act that everything was alright, that everyone will be okay. 

But he knew that it’ll do no justice if he did. “Is she...is she alright?”

The question that fell from Yuta’s mouth was left hanging in the air for a few moments, the sliver of hope they had moments ago slowly dimming with each passing moment. Quietly Gojo slipped his hands into his pockets, his blindfolded eyes downcast; too scared to see their reactions. For once, he wished that he was not the one to break the news to the students. “Y/N-chan...might not recovery from this.”

His words sent shock waves through the students, yet he balled his fists up in his pockets to continue with what he had to say. “She hit her head too hard...and if she was not subconsciously protecting herself with Cursed Energy all the time, the impact would have caused her skull to crack in two on impact. But it still took a lot out of her person, and Shoko said that-”

The sound of a metal chair being thrown backwards echoed across the room, causing Gojo to look up just in time to see Yuta standing up with wide eyes as he hastily tried to calm his friend. “Maki, you need to calm down.” He tried to reason with the girl, who had her backed turn to the group, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her jacket. “This isn’t your fault-” Yuta tried to reason, only to pause when Maki just silently started to walk away, leaving with no more but a loud slam of the main door that echoed down the hallway once more. 

For a few moments no one said anything else, yet the first one to move was Megumi; who turned to face his sensei. “Can we visit her?” He mumbled out quietly, to which Gojo just glanced over at him with a slightly raised eyebrow. “Usually people talk to someone who is in a coma. Might jolt them awake or give them encouragement to fight harder...I am sure Y/N-senpai will get lonely if no one visited her..”

“Why not?” Gojo said after a few moments of thought, giving his students what he hope was a reassuring smile as he turns a little; nodding down the hallway. “Shoko managed to stabalise her condition. Just make sure to sanatise your hands at the door.”

Quietly the group of students followed behind their silent sensei, keeping close to one another as if they were trying to give each other comfort. The walk to the room seemed too far, the door seeming to grow further and further away from them with each step. It was if it was trying to stop them from seeing the truth; yet they didn’t stop. Yet soon they found themselves standing before the smooth door; the single grey name plaque with her name written in black resting in the silver plaque holder. “Right, here we are.”

After everyone was handed a blob of hand sanitiser and had wiped it onto their skin, the small group entered after a quiet knock to the door. “Y/N-chan, I’ve returned with the others...minus one, that is.” Gojo hummed out in delight as he made his way towards the bed, a silent gesture for the others to do the same. “You know Maki-chan though. Once she finishes beating herself up, she’ll come running back. She always does~”

Quietly the others made their way into the room, eyes scanning over the beeping machines and many wires connected to the sleeping girl. “Y/N...senpai..” Nobara mumbles out in shock, her eyes resting the ventilator; not believing that a girl that was bounding about the college earlier today now needed help to do something as simple as breathing. “No way...there is...”

A warm hand rest on the top of her head, Megumi quietly giving her a form of comfort whilst his wide eyes stared at the bed before him in shock. No one dared take a step forward, like they were standing on the other side of a fragile glass bridge that was moments away from breaking. “Y/N..”

Gojo felt the hole started to eat inside of him as he watches how his students were staring at their fellow classmate in shock. Quietly he settled down in the only seat at the corner of the room, watching from the shadows at how the others will react to seeing her in such a state. The first person to snap out of it was Yuta, who quietly places a hand on Toge’s shoulders before giving it a light squeeze. “Shall we go and say hello?” 

Quietly Yuta made his way towards the bed, only to hesitate one step away from grabbing onto her hand. He stared at the frail hand, a simple IV needle carefully taped on the back of her palm for a few moments; a clear look of uncertainty on his face. Yet he took a deep breath, and with a trembling hand, carefully took Y/N’s cold hand in his. “I...Hi, Y/N...” Yuta mumbles quietly into the hospital room, voice barely heard over the constant beeping of the heart monitor. “Sorry...we took awhile to visit...and sorry that Maki isn’t here...I am sure she’ll drop by when she is ready though.”

The only response he got was the sound of the steady beep of the heart monitor, to which he just tighten his grip ever so slightly on Y/N’s unmoving hand. He could hear the soft giggle that Y/N would let out at his words, and if he felt tears welling up in his eyes as he hears her voice bouncing around inside his head.

“It’s alright, Yuta-san! I am sure you were busy before that. And I know Maki-chan will come after you leave - but you didn’t hear that secret from me~”

The silence of the hospital room made Yuta sick to the stomach, the idea that he might never hear Y/N’s voice again started to really sink in. Her usually warm and familiar touch felt cold and lifeless, causing Yuta to carefully tuck her hand underneath her hospital blanket; as if he was trying to warm it up once more. “I...I am going to go grab her favourite stuffed animal from her room. I am sure she’d love to have something of comfort whilst she’s here...if you’ll excuse me.”

Without another word Yuta just walked out of the room quietly, Yuji being the only one turning to watch his senpai leave with a look of concern. Out of everyone Yuji was definitely the one who seemed to be able to hold himself together the most, so it was no surprise when he was the one that went next. “Yo, Y/N-senpai,” Yuji greeted quietly as he walked towards the hospital bed, easily dodging all the wires and such. After all, this wasn’t his first time visiting someone he cares for in the hospital. “Can you hear me? I hope you can - or not Fushiguro might lecture me for being loud.”

The other sorcerer couldn’t even find his voice whilst Yuji continues on; his voice soft yet soothing as he looks down at his senpai with nothing more but a soft smile. “I know you’re trying your hardest go come back to us, and you’d probably tell us that we’re not the ones to blame. That you’re a big girl now, and things like this happen all the time.” Yuji continues, the only indication to his change of mood was the slight quiver that was hard to hide. Yet Yuji continued on anyway. “I hope you know we miss you...and we’re worried sick that you’re in the state you are now. But I know that you need some time to rest up, and soon you’ll be back on your feet again, right? ‘Cause..b-because that’s how you’ve always been.”

Silence enveloped the room once more, with Yuji just not sure on what else to say to her as he stared at her pale face. The other three in the room sort of just huddled together, all of them unsure of what to say to her. They weren’t the best with emotional words - beside Toge, who usually doesn’t use words at all - so asking them to keep their tone in check whilst referring to their unconscious classmate is a little too much for them.

So after awhile Yuji decided to lead them out of the hospital room, giving Gojo a parting smile before he closes the door behind him. Leaving him alone as he stared at the slumbering figure of his student as he rests his elbows on his parted knees. Quietly he rests his head in his hands, eyes closed as he tried to push back the light migraine that was coming on. He hates that it is his duty to break the news to the others - her parents, her elders. Heck, he has to give a call to Nanami and Utahime to tell them the bad news. 

If it was anything else, he wound be more than excited to blow their phones up. But this? He wishes that the duty was handed to someone else - because he himself doesn’t even believe that this was happening in the first place. 

He wishes that this was all just a terrible nightmare.

Maki quietly pushed the window open as she climbed in from the roof, the doors of halls of the infirmary long going silent; cicadas chirping away in the night sky. Maki quietly stuffed her hands into the pockets of her hoodie, eyes racking over Y/N’s sleeping form, to the amount of machines that were working by her side to make sure that she’s alive. “Hey, idiot...I’ve arrived.”

Quietly she made her way towards Y/N’s bedside, her eyes clouding over with an unreadable emotion. If she was being honest, she didn’t know how to react right now. On one hand, she was pissed - she is pissed off because she could have done something to help Y/N. Maybe if she was just faster, just a bit more aware, maybe if she was training to try harder. Maybe if she can just try harder-

A loud slap sounded across the room, Maki having pulled her hand out of her pocket to slap across her cheek hard to snap out of the spiraling thoughts. The burning sting on her cheek reminded her to return to reality before she started to trash the room out of anger, something that she and Y/N had been working on for some time now. Y/N would always say, “You should never turn to anger and violence to deal with your issues!”

Maki wonders what her reaction would be if she had saw Maki slapping herself so hard that there was a light handprint on the side of her cheek. “You’re so annoying, you know that?”

With a tired sigh Maki settled down in the seat that Gojo had occupied earlier in the day, keeping her eyes on the steady heart monitor; her eyes following the spike that indicates the faint heartbeat of Y/N. “Who the hell knew that it took an entire building to really get you hurt.” Maki sigh as she tore her eyes away from the screen, looking down at her boots quietly; examining all the scuffs and scratches on marring the smooth leather. “Call me stupid, but I really thought that it’d take more than that. Remember when you had jumped out the window of the 10th floor and left with no more but a bruise? You were crying about it ‘cause you couldn’t wear dresses for about 2 weeks.”

Maki let out a tired laugh at the memory of finding Yuta trying to reassure a crying Y/N when she found the bruise on her knee; Yuta just patting her head with the most amused look on his face whilst she cried her eyes out at the idea that she can’t wear her cute dresses until it cleared up. “Imagine what will happen when you wake up from this? God, that is going to be a pain.”

A soft sigh left Maki’s lips as she glances over at the stuffed sheep that Yuta had brought from her room; along with a few more random stuffed animals that surrounded her head like a halo. This caused her to smile sadly as she rests her head on her shoulder, watching her for a few minutes without saying anything. Maki had always been bad with words and emotions; with all the things she had gone through when she was younger. Wording how she feels and emotions are not Maki’s favourite thing to deal with, since she wants to keep this badass, strong woman front she has on all the time to prove something to her elders.

“You better wake up from this, or not I am going to kick your ass.” Maki mutters after a few moments, getting up with a tired sigh before she casts her another glance at Y/N. Without missing a beat, she reaches over to brush strands of hair away from her face, warm hand resting on her head for a few moments before she places a few parting pats on her head; something she had always done when she needs to leave for a mission or a meeting outside of school. 

“‘Night, brat. Wake up soon, okay?” Maki mutters, and with a final sigh she made her way towards the window she climbed in once more, quietly shutting it behind her after she hauled herself over the railing. It was only in the dead of the night that Maki quietly lets her tears fall, biting her lip hard to stop whatever sounds that were threatening to leave her lips. 

Because at the end of the day she is stubborn, and refuses to believe that this might be her new reality.

A week had passed since the day that the others found out that Y/N had fallen into a coma of a sorts, and everyone would visit at least once just to see if there is any sight of change. That there might be a sign that she was going to wake up soon. And there were slight changes; a few days after she had been admitted she was allowed to get off the ventilator and rely on oxygen instead. But she was still in bad shape.

Nanami tries to make time to drop by to visit as well, coming over to quietly read pages of the book that he was reading. Whenever Y/N was sick, she would call Nanami over the phone and ask if the man can read to her; something about how she finds comfort in his voice that puts her at ease. And since Ieiri had encouraged them to talk to her more for stimulation, Nanami takes the time to read to her after a long day of work. It brought him some comfort as well, listening to the constant beeping of the heart monitor and the humming of the other machines around her.

Gojo would sometimes drop by as well, only to berate Nanami for his ‘boring’ book choices; and an unconscious Y/N has to endure two adults arguing about book choices and how Gojo’s titles are definitely not appropriate to even bring onto school grounds.

Besides the occasional argument, sometimes Gojo will prop his phone up against a vase of flowers that Yuji brings so that Utahime can FaceTime him; the students from the Kyoto side being able to see and talk to the slumbering Y/N. For the most part, everyone was shocked that she was in the state she was in; having never expected such a bright and talkative person can fall into such a state.

The most distraught one was definitely Todo, who had almost jumped out of his seat and make a full on dash towards Tokyo if it wasn’t for Noritoshi and Mai joining together to restrain the man, along with Principal Gakuganji threating to hold him back from their planned trip to Tokyo the following week that had him calming down.

But barely - the man is still more than ready to just up and run across the country just so he can be closer to his ‘beloved Y/N-chan’.

Every day, without fail, Toge will come into her hospital room with a new accessory to pull her hair back into; carefully brushing her hair out and applying dry shampoo so it wasn’t greasy to the touch. Once he was satisifed he’d carefully style her hair back so it didn’t get in the way of her checkups, taking his time with everything so he gets to spend more time with her. He doesn’t say much, he usually finds that doesn’t whenever he is around her; so he takes his time when he does her hair in hopes that she can feel that he is there for her.

Yuta and Megumi will find time after classes to go and visit her together, telling her about everything that had happened whilst she is asleep. Sometimes Nobara will visit as well, must for the most time she’d come alone in the evening after dinner to just rant to her about everything that she found annoying that happened over the day. Nobara usually stay until Ieiri comes to kick her out, hoping that Maki might come in as well to visit Y/N.

But Maki never does - yet everyone knows that Maki finds the time in her day to go and visit her like everyone else. However, no one dared to ask her how or when she does it. They’ve accepted that it was probably a sensitive subject to her, and that it’s off limits to ask her unless you want her to ignore you for the rest of the day. Gojo had learnt it the hard way when he had teased her, only to be thrown out the window of their classroom by an annoyed Maki.

Even his Infinity is no match for that woman’s wrath.

Days soon led into weeks, with slow but not so encouraging signs of improvement from the young girl. The elders of her clan and her parents had visited the college as soon as they can, and had kept tabs with every single thing that is going on with her. There was no denying the fear of her suddenly relapsing once more, and soon it will become too much for her parents to bear. The idea of keeping Y/N around, knowing that she is in so much pain, just for their selfish want of keeping her alive was a reality they want to avoid. 

The once vibrant and lively campus soon turned gloomy; the hallways of the school quiet without the familiar sound of bunny-themed slippers running across its worn-out flooring. The chime of a familiar giggle was missing in the air, along with a dreamy voice that just never seems to stop; no matter what time of the day it is. There were days where the others forget that Y/N was not there to make dinner for the night, or she wasn’t there when they want to ask her opinion about something. Her room, which once served as a sanctuary for the students who can’t sleep at night, now became too painful to even walk past on certain days.

Yet everyone tried their hardest to go on with their days, knowing that it was what Y/N wanted them to do. If they were to allow their grief to consume them whole, they knew the delicate routine they had rebuilt would crumble before them. And if there is one thing they can do to keep Y/N’s memory alive, is to live their lives to the fullest. To try and cherish each and every day, no matter how painful reality is without her by their side.

They have to try, for her sake.

It wasn’t until a month passed when Yuta had came running into the lunch hall, looking like he had seen a ghost as he tried to catch his breath. “Okkotsu-senpai?” Megumi asks in concern as he looks over at the older man, putting his tray down to try and give his panting senpai a hand. “Are you-” He asked, only to have Yuta put a hand up to stop him as he took a few deep gulps of air.

“A-Awake...Y/N...Y/N is awake.”

Within a few seconds the students were sprinting across campus, none of them believing what Yuta had said until they have see it for themselves. What is usually a 10 minute walk from the lunch hall took about four minutes with them sprinting, possibly annoying half of the cleaners of the school that they were breaking the no running rule. Yet they didn’t stop even at their annoyed outcries, the simple wooden door of the infirmary almost coming off its hinges at how hard Maki had thrown it open.

Maki was the one who pushed the hospital room door open, causing the people in the room to jump in shock. Including Y/N, who had let out a soft squeak of shock; her voice hoarse from not using it for so long. The others blinked in shock at the sight of Y/N’s bright eyes meeting theirs at the doorway, ones that blinked before she gave them the biggest smile she can muster.

“H-Hi.” Y/N mumbles softly, to which Nanami just gave her a rare smile as he gently rubs her back, Gojo smirking softly as he recorded the reactions of the others by the door. He had gotten over the shock a few moments ago. “Don’t strain yourself, Y/N-chan. Remember what Ieiri-sensei said about straining your voice.” The blonde man hummed before he turned his blue eyes over at the shocked students as well. “And that goes to you too. If you all stress her out, I am not against tossing you all out.”

Y/N made a noise and turned to try and reassure the older man, not noticing how the others were staring at her in shock. The first person to move was Maki, whose eyes look suspicious wet as she stormed into the room. “I am going to kill you.” She growled out loudly, to which Y/N jumped before she held her arms out for protection; feeling a shiver of fear go up her spine. Yet before she can make a move to stop her, Maki suddenly wrapped her up in a hug, the arms that Y/N held out to try and pacify her angry classmate freezing from the unnatural reaction from Maki.

Y/N blinks for a few moments before she smiles softly and wraps Maki up in her arms as well, gently patting her head as Maki silently wets her shoulder with her tears. “I know.” Y/N mumbles out softly before her eyes met the others, giving them a soft smile as she gently gestures to the others to enter her room. Soon there was just a huge ball of crying teenagers hugging one another on Y/N’s hospital bed; Gojo and Nanami having moved aside to give them more space for their reunion as they watched on from the other side of the room. “Should we stop them?”

“Nah, we might get murdered if we try.” Gojo said with a hum as he grins over the sound of intelligible crying, looking over at Nanami who had a ghost of a smile on his lips at the sight. “Besides, this is great content. I never had a video of Maki crying before.” Gojo admitted, to which Nanami’s smile dropped as he looked over at him in annoyance. 

“Why am I not surprised at all?”

© roscgcld — all rights reserved to me, rose, the author and creator of these works. do not repost/translate/claim my work as yours on any platform

[redorich]

In the HermitCanyon au, How is my favorite Bee armored Admin doing? How long does it take for Xisuma to become.. aware of what is happening? For the first few sections it seemed like he was in a coma/unconscious. In the most recent bit Impulse tells Etho to get Xisuma, so at least theoretically he can now move, but how long has it taken him to get there, and where is he on the scale to full recovery? Are the other hermits keeping him safe with rabbit stew? (if they have rabbits that is...)

Part 2 of this.

Etho comes back twenty minutes later with a solemn look on his face. (At least, Puffy assumes. She can't actually see most of his face because of that mask of his.)

"X is in a bad way today," he says quietly. "I can take Puffy to him if you guys would like to stay here with Zedaph."

Impulse and Tango look nervously at each other. On one hand, they very much would like to stay with Zedaph, who is mostly healed but still very loopy and probably should not be moved. On the other hand, allowing Puffy deep into the Hermits' inner sanctum is a risk in and of itself, let alone with only one Hermit with her. Etho's a good fighter and a wily bastard, but Puffy is most certainly no slouch.

In the end, it comes down to trust. How much can they show Puffy before they can no longer trust that she won't snitch? How sure are they that she won't try to kill them all and steal their stuff?

"Tell Xisuma I said hi," Zedaph warbles from the bed in the corner of the room, out of any window's line of sight.

As Etho presses a button which removes a panel of the wall in a whir of piston noises, Puffy snorts out a little laugh. "I'll be sure to do that."

Tango nods subtly to Impulse. If Puffy brought Zedaph back to the canyon, saved him from a painful respawn, and didn't once ask for anything in return, then the Hermits can trust her at least this much.

Etho leads Puffy through a short hallway into a large circular room with a domed ceiling. The room is mostly quartz, though the walls are lined with sea lanterns and oak leaves. It’s beautiful. This place has been hiding under her feet this whole time?

“This is the Atrium,” Etho says, “or at least the main one. Come on, getting a mule will be more trouble than it’s worth if you’re not carrying anything.”

Puffy is speechless, utterly and profoundly, when Etho takes her through a tunnel on the opposite side of where she entered. It almost looks as though the tunnel here was carved by hand, then completely redone in dirt and grass and vines to give it a secretive, high fantasy look.

“Hey, Etho!” says a dark-haired man with a big smile as he comes trotting out of a branching hallway to the left. “Hey--” He catches sight of Puffy and his smile dissipates into panic. He shouts incoherently and dives back into the hallway he just exited.

“Hey Bdubs,” Etho greets impishly, then turns to Puffy. “Man, it’s like he saw a ghost or something. Maybe Mothman.”

Puffy bleats out a surprised laugh. Up ahead, she spots another Hermit lurking around the corner of the archway Etho is leading her toward.

“Etho,” says a tall blonde woman. “Cleo wants to talk to you about, er...” The blonde woman glances at Puffy. “Her thing,” she finishes lamely.

“Well, as you can see, I’m a bit busy at the moment. Would you mind telling Cleo so she doesn’t skin me alive?” Etho says sweetly.

The blonde woman snorts. “Face the music, Mothman. I’ll take care of Puffy from here. I assume you’re taking her to Xisuma?”

Etho wilts. Clearly, whoever this Cleo person is, she’s not someone to piss off. Puffy wonders what Etho did.

“See ya around,” Etho waves, somehow both cheery and morose at the same time, like a funeral for someone nobody liked. Puffy and the blonde woman watch him go.

“My name’s False, by the way,” the blonde woman says. “Thanks for the bandanna. Normally I’d be wearing it, but I just got back from beating up Iskall.”

The woman-- False-- laughs. Puffy is once again taken aback by the idea that the Hermits actually use the items that she makes for them. 

False takes off in a brisk walk toward the archway she’d come out of. Jumping a little bit at being torn from her thoughts, Puffy hurries to follow. It’s hard to keep up, since all Puffy wants to do is stare. She must be in the living quarters-- they let her in the living quarters?! Each door matches the high fantasy, underground sort of aesthetic, but a few doors are left open and each one is remarkably different on the inside. One room is built entirely out of red and white concrete, whereas another is Nether-themed with actual fire, and the room down the hall is entirely underwater!

One door is different. It’s got blue-purple banners along the frame, and when False opens the door for Puffy, she can see that the room is made of blackstone bricks. Maps of the Dream SMP line the wall, and in the center of the room there is a mildly ornate table made of warped wood.

At the end of the table in the back of the room, opposite the door, sits a trio. To the left, there is a plain-looking man with a beard and an “at” symbol on his shirt. He speaks in a Southern accent to a man on the right side of the table, who wears a red sweater and twirls a feather between his fingers like the cat that got the canary.

In between the two, at the head of the table, rests someone very unique. He’s obviously tall, that much is obvious even when he’s sitting down. He’s also got mesmerizing purple eyes which glow faintly against the dark of the blackstone. Puffy doesn’t know why, but she gets the feeling that they’re supposed to be glowing much brighter.

As taken by the man’s eyes as she is, Puffy doesn’t notice the non-invasive breathing tube the man also has (a cannula? She doesn’t know what it’s called, but that sounds right) until the man’s gaze falls upon her, still standing in the doorway next to False.

“Oh,” the man says. “You’re not supposed to be here. Welcome.”

False steps forward, breaking Puffy from her trance. “Puffy, this is Xisuma, Joe, and Grian. I’d introduce you to them as well, but... you know.”

“I don’t know-- oh,” Puffy says awkwardly, catching sight of the massive crochet blanket she’d made for the Hermit months ago, draped across Xisuma’s shoulders.

“Why are you here?” Grian asks with a tilted head. “No offense or anything, but I just lost a bet. I had three diamonds on Cub bringing you in here eventually-- he’s the one you usually meet at the barrel, you know.”

False interjects, “I didn’t bring her down here, it was Etho!”

“Shoot,” Joe says. “Cleo wins yet again.”

“It was Zedaph, actually,” Puffy says. All eyes turn to her. “I found him on the surface. He was really injured, so I brought him back here. Impulse and-- Tango? Yeah, Tango-- told Etho to take me down here.”

Puffy uncharacteristically twiddles her fingers a little bit, feeling in over her head. “Uh, you know I’m not gonna tell or anything, so... Why am I here?”

The full weight of Xisuma’s piercing stare falls upon her. Even as fragile as he looks, even as strong as Puffy is, she feels a jolt of apprehension.

“You’d know more about the red vines than we do,” he begins. “Etho mentioned that they’re what hurt Zedaph; he’s mentioned them on multiple occasions, and never in a good way. How long do you think it would take for those vines to reach our village, and what do you think would happen once they do?”

“As far as we’re aware, there are several players who are proponents of the vines, and claim they originate from some sort of egg?” Joe adds. “I’ve had a hard time calculating how big of a mushroom we’d need to make an omelet out of the egg, but apparently most of my fellow Hermits do not in fact want evil eggs on their omelets.”

“And how come the End is inaccessible?” Grian cuts in with a whine. “I want my elytra.”

Xisuma huffs a laugh into the cannula. “As you can see, we have many questions which only a native Dream SMP player like yourself can answer. In the interest of keeping ourselves safe--” he trails off into a coughing fit.

Puffy bites her lip, feeling as though she really shouldn’t be seeing this. Joe rests his hand on Xisuma’s back.

“You give us answers, and we’ll give you diamonds, netherite, whatever you want. And when we move out-- well, it wasn’t much of a secret anyway-- we’ll offer you a safe place with us,” Grian speaks up on Xisuma’s behalf.

A thousand thoughts spin inside Puffy’s head. She feels like Dorothy in that tornado, and Grian’s offer is the Wicked Witch. “Did you guys really save Tommy’s life?” she finds herself asking.

The Hermits seem taken aback.

“The blond kid?” False asks. “Yeah, but he was unconscious the whole time. I think Scar told the kid to keep us a secret, but... I don’t think any of us expected that to actually work.”

Puffy laughs disbelievingly. “He’s the one person on the entire server who keeps insisting that you guys aren’t real.”

“That’s good to hear,” Xisuma says quietly. “Do you have an answer for us, or would you like some time to consider?”

There are a thousand and one variables Puffy needs to think about. What is Dream’s stance on the Hermits? Who will she be setting herself against by allying with the Hermits? What will Puffy have to expect, from both underground and surface-dwelling players alike? Which players can she take in a fight?

Fuck it, she thinks. “You’ve got yourselves a deal.”

Xisuma smiles. Despite his ill condition, she gets the feeling that this nice, mild-mannered man is far more dangerous than she could ever hope to be.

“I’m glad to have you on our side, Puffy,” he says. “Thank you for your help.”