#i think they were trying to go like “adrenaline rush!”

[royaltozaki]

misunderstandings

bachelorette series - trailer ▸ part 1 ▸ part 2 ▸ part 3 ▸ part 4

synopsis: y/n watches the most recent episode of the bachelorette and is met with something she doesn’t like. sana also seems to be angry for whatever reason and it builds up into a big argument at the end of the night.

warnings: sex! overstimulation, fingering, scissoring, oral sex, degradation, choking, cursing

w/c: 7.1k

a/n: soooo sorry for the delay this will probs be my last update for a while bcs finals season is driving me up a wall (if u see me post another story or part its bcs im actually not studying and u should yell at me for it) i lwk hate the pacing of this chapter i feel like its everywhere but hey! we got some smut!

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the backlash wonsik gets online is more than satisfactory. apparently, with all the evidence piled up against him, he would most likely be sent away for the rest of his life. which is disgusting to think about, how much crime do you have to commit to get a life sentence? you try to shake those thoughts as you watch the most recent episode with the leftover contestants while sana’s on her individual date as usual. it was tradition now, even more so as the pool of contestants gets smaller and smaller.

after your day off, things had gotten right back to normal.

sana went on a solo date with jacky. good thing it was jacky too because they had the famous ‘conquer a fear’ date. who knew big, australian jacky was afraid of balloons. and in typical bachelorette fashion, producers came up with a romantic hot air balloon date for 5am in the morning.

costume designers had rushed into your room at 4am, turning on all the lights and pulling sana from your arms, not even casting you a second look now that they were used to seeing the both of you cuddled up and naked most of the time they had to come in and dress you.

you were barely conscious as they ran around frantically, pulling the covers over your head and groaning a little, trying to make yourself go back to sleep.

you’re sure sana didn’t feel the best either from the little grumbles and whines you can hear faintly as she struggles to keep her eyes open while makeup artists dab eyeshadow on her eyelids.

soon enough they're off and you drift back into sleep, only to be awoken a few hours later so you can get dressed and attend the group date for the day.

that was also pretty fun. everything was meant to be high-adrenaline, facing your fears, all that sort of stuff today. so the team had booked out a big amusement park and you all had free rein. it was also good because it meant you had a little bit more freedom, not everyone had to stick together so people ended up splitting up naturally when they wanted to do different rides and you had even managed to sneak sana away from the cameras for a quick make out session in the toilets.

it was a pretty great day and would make for a nice and light episode after the mayhem that happened with wonsik. there was a rose ceremony as always but this time, only 2 people were eliminated. unfortunately you had to say goodbye to dae and nayeon, sana did say it was getting harder and harder to eliminate people because as the more time goes on, the closer you get, and when there's less people in the house, it also facilitates closer relationships. she had to eliminate those two simply because she felt her romantic connection with them wasn't as strong as it was with some of the other contestants. it was rough but that's showbiz.

after 2 more eliminations tonight, it would officially be the quarter finals meaning it would be time for sana to meet all of her last 4 contestants' families and close ones.

currently, you're enjoying an afternoon tea at the contestants' house. as usual, sana was on a solo date with jiwon but there wouldn't be a group date today because there wasn't enough time to film it. instead, the both of you were allowed a little sleep in after yesterday's rude 4am awakening, and a little more time in the afternoon to dress up before the rose ceremony tonight.

the episode had just finished with jacky and sana's date. jacky still won't go near a balloon and he's probably developed a fear of heights on top of that too now but at least it looked pretty on television.

you had teased him when the episode showed him nervously walking around and inspecting the hot air balloon before sana had to basically yank him into the basket. he had his eyes shut tight the entire time, holding on to sana for dear life while they ascended. it was a little cute when sana finally managed to get him to peek his eyes open once they reached their highest altitude, just in time to catch the sunrise, and in exchange for getting over his fear and not backing out of this date with her, she gave him a rose and kissed him on the cheek.

you heard afterwards from eunji that as soon as they touched back down he had jumped out of the basket and laid face down in the grass for about half an hour, just getting used to the feeling of being on the ground again.

they had caught a bit of him on the floor doing exactly that which was pretty hilarious because sana was crouched next to him, poking him and trying to get him to sit up but he just groaned and mumbled something incomprehensibly in response, his rose still clutched tight in his hand, stretched out in front of him.

they cut it off there though, maybe a little for jacky's reputation but you all knew how long he was there for.

after a short break where they show a few scenes of silly occurrences inside the house with the other contestants, and then finding out everyone was invited on the group date that day, except for jacky who was invited but ended up taking the rest of the day off to recuperate and basically laid in bed in the medical office, even skipping the rose ceremony since he already got his rose.

they shot everyone in the car on the way to the amusement park, asking the contestants what they thought was going to happen, if anyone was scared, trying to pull a few comedic clips together, all the anticipation scenes the audience needed to be excited for the date.

eventually, everyone's in the middle of the amusement park with sana and yourself waiting for them in casual clothes. you shift a little as you recall the way you had her gasping into your mouth and your hand up the blue polo shirt she’s wearing on screen only 20 minutes after the introduction and everyone had split off.

in the meantime, while the cameras were running around frantically trying to find sana, they had filled in the gaps with clips of the other contestants, you laugh when momo is practically dragged onto a rollercoaster by jihyo and jun, she’s kicking and screaming but they manage to strap her in and gesture for the roller coaster attendant to go. its one of those really fast ones where it goes from 0 to 100 in seconds so the force pushes all of them back against the seats, poor momo barely has the time to blink and then its over. she’s gasping with her eyes clenched shut while the other two are laughing and pulling her off and along to the next ride.

it’s great being able to watch what happened when you weren’t on screen, and also what sana was up to when you weren’t with her.

you laugh when they show all the contestants clambering onto the carousel, you had all taken some group pictures and some of them were more than silly.

eventually, you get to the rose ceremony, and just as you were on the night, your breath is taken away again with sana in a stunning red dress. she really nailed being on camera, her face was one that was meant to be on screen.

the night starts merrily, everyone's more of a family now, you’re all happy to drink and talk together, and it wasn’t so competitive to get time with sana anymore because there were less contestants.

you frown a little though when the camera shifts to sana and jihyo, they’re sitting very close in one of the more private rooms inside the house.

jihyo’s playing a joke and sana’s laughing, a little flushed, probably from the alcohol as she slaps jihyo’s arm lightheartedly. jihyo preens at the attention, grabbing another drink and offering it to sana who accepts it gratefully and takes a sip.

she hums in satisfaction before speaking up, “so you never did tell me how you broke up with that gym rat…”

jihyo’s laughing a little nervously, twiddling her thumbs a little, “right yeah… i just realised that i made the wrong decision. i was caught up in the newness of everything with him but after that got old, i realised i still loved-“

sana’s eyebrows are shooting up, she’s setting down her drink and clearing her throat.

“sorry.” jihyo flashes an apologetic look over at sana, but sana shakes her head.

“no no it’s okay. be as honest as you can, please. we’re both here because we’re looking for a relationship right? can’t do that if we have any skeletons still in the closet.”

jihyo’s smiling gratefully and then continuing, “he wasn’t it for me. that’s why i broke up with him. i’m sorry for the way i treated you sana, you didn’t deserve that, you never did anything wrong in our relationship and i never really gave you a reason to why we broke up. i hoped by coming on here i may be able to win back a second chance.”

sana hums again, taking a moment to think while jihyo nervously looks at her with wide eyes.

“jihyo… you hurt me a lot when you left.”

“i know! and i’m so so sorry for that! i never want to do that to you again, all i’m asking for is another chance sana.”

she’s shuffling closer, grabbing sana’s hands tightly and imploring with her eyes.

sana looks down at their hands together, taking a breath before looking back up, "look... i'm not going to lie to you... i never really did get over you completely."

what?

"and i wouldn't have kept you in here for this long if i wasn't curious about what you had to say and if i wasn't ready to give you a second chance."

what the actual fuck?

"it wouldn't be fair though. to the other contestants, y'know? if they knew you had a head start. and i admit i was avoiding you a little because i wanted to even the playing field and get to know everyone else first before revisiting this." she makes a gesture with her hands, signaling between the two of them. "so its nice to finally be able to sit down and get a clear answer about what happened in the past."

jihyo looks more and more hopeful as sana goes on, your hands only get tighter around the fabric of your pants. sana didn't tell you about this conversation last night. sana hasn't mentioned anything jihyo related. whenever you ask, she's always managed to change the conversation or misdirect you with the promise of sex. was this why? is this how she really felt about jihyo? did she think you would disapprove? well you do disapprove but that was besides the point.

all of the other contestants don't seem too shocked with this news. it's not too surprising though because they've all lived with jihyo and the one thing they all have in common is sana so there's no doubt they've all discussed each other's feelings for sana, and jihyo probably told them their history as well.

you're fuming though. you can't believe sana didn't tell you something this important. that you're finding this out along with the rest of the country when you were meant to be her best friend here, the one person who was supposed to know everything before everyone.

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the rest of the afternoon goes by in a blur. you can vaguely tell when someone comes up to you and tries to initiate or bring you into the conversation but your mind is swirling with information about sana and jihyo, their past interactions, whether you could decipher any of sana's feelings from observing her.

eventually, it's time for the rose ceremony again and you're still in your head about everything you thought you knew happened yesterday.

you have half the mind to pull sana aside and ask her about it but when you meet sana's eyes, she squints a little and looks away quickly with signs of a pout in her lip.

the night continues like this, the two of you stealing glances at each other only when you think the other isn't looking. when sana starts pulling jihyo aside though, you don't care if she sees the look of disbelief on your face, she doesn't seem to notice anyway, all cozied up to jihyo.

you're averting your head again and downing the rest of your drink in one gulp.

when it's time to read out who gets a rose and who's going home, you're stiff standing next to sana, she's purposely avoiding your gaze as well. the tension between you two was so thick jiwon had come up and asked if something had happened between you two. and technically nothing did happen so you don't really know why sana seems to be angry with you when you were the one who was hurt by yesterday's episode.

the ceremony is brief, you have to say goodbye to jun, and eunji unfortunately but you can barely give them a proper hug as you stare at jihyo who's now made the final four.

after your goodbyes you quickly make your way towards the car, tapping your foot impatiently while waiting for sana to finish saying her goodbyes so you could both go home.

unfortunately, that takes another 20 minutes and you're just about to tell the driver to leave without her when she's sliding into the car, still avoiding your gaze and sitting on the opposite end of the car. normally she's all over you, needing affection after a big day but now you're pretty sure if she moved any further away she'd be falling out the window.

that was fine though. it’s not like you wanted to have an argument with her while the driver could hear you anyway.

the car’s pulling in and she’s opening her door and stalking inside the house without even a second glance towards you.

what the fuck? why was she mad at you now?

you feel almost childish copying her actions and making sure to slam the door on the way in, but if she was acting like this for no reason that only infuriated you more.

you find her in the kitchen, tapping her foot impatiently and waiting for you to come in.

once you’re standing on opposite sides of the counter, you cross your arms and still. she’s leaning on the counter with her hands, staring you down. there was no way you were going to be the first to break. she was the one who had some explaining to do right now, not you.

sana's stubborn as well though, lips pursed and not backing down.

it goes on like this for a few minutes before you finally break, raising an eyebrow and asking coldly, "so do you have anything you want to say to me sana?"

sana scoffs, the tips of her ears red, "do you have anything you want to say y/n?"

"what? no! i don't even know why you're being like this right now! i'm the one who's been left in the dark here."

"oh you're the one who's been left in the dark huh? unbelievable that you're still lying to my face about this. is that how you really feel about her?"

"excuse me?! it doesn't matter how i feel about her! the whole issue is how you've been dealing with this situation!"

sana sneers, your voices getting louder and louder trying to top each other, "this again? seriously y/n? i'm my own person and i'm allowed to have opinions on who i like and who i don't like! if she's being weird or sneaky or whatever i'm going to call her out on it!"

you scoff, "yeah right. like you called her out on it last night? and tonight as well i bet. why did you take so long saying your goodbyes huh?"

sana goes beet red and you think you've got her, "what?! what are you talking about?! and i stayed behind to say proper goodbyes to everyone! not like you apparently who couldn't care less, you barely talked to anyone tonight, when jun, and eunji, who was one of your closest friends here right?! when they had to leave you didn't even look them in the eye when they hugged you!"

"riiiiiiiiiight and you expect me to believe that? you weren't cuddling up and getting a quickie in before you had to go right?"

"what?! what are you talking about y/n?! quickie- what?"

"with jihyo! you stayed behind to talk to her didn't you!?"

"what?! well yeah i did but what does jihyo have to do with any of this?"

"what?! i've been talking about jihyo this whole time what do you mean?"

she's slipping something out of her suit pocket and sliding it across the counter to you. your phone.

"are you fucking serious y/n? you've been talking about jihyo this whole time? what the fuck? why the fuck are you suddenly bringing her up? you're the one who's been going behind my back getting all flirty and friendly with miyeon! after you told me you were just friends?! calling each other babe and sweetie and honey in your texts, how the fuck did you even get her number anyway? how long have you been talking to her huh? how long have you been fucking me while talking to someone else?"

you're scrambling for your phone, unlocking it and scrolling to your messages with miyeon. fuck. sana must have read everything. you don't even remember leaving your phone behind but it must have been with her since the morning. you scroll down the texts and see the most recent messages miyeon has texted you today and you find that sana has been replying to her.

"are you serious sana?! why the fuck did you go through my phone?"

sana turns her head at that, pouting a little, "i didn't mean to! she just kept on texting and i thought it must have been something important if your phone kept going off so i just went in to make sure everything was okay! how was i supposed to know you were basically sexting her behind my back!?"

"we were not sexting oh my god sana! miyeon is my friend we're just friends!"

"why have you been keeping this from me then?! you must like her or something then don't you?!"

"what?! no! and don't talk to me about keeping secrets right now sana!"

"what secrets have i kept from you?!"

"hello?!" you're waving your hands around frantically, "the whole jihyo situation?! why didn't you tell me you never got over her?"

"i never got over- what?!"

"you said so last night! on national fucking television! don't play dumb with me right now sana, and don't try and change the topic on me!"

"i never said that! are you being serious right now? jihyo and i split and it took me a while but you were there for it all! you saw me at my lowest and you helped build me back up! i am over her!"

"why is she in the final four then?"

"oh my god y/n you cannot seriously still be talking about jihyo! i'm over her! the producers wanted her to make it to the final four because they thought they could add some drama in during the home visits or whatever! jihyo and i talked about it last night and i told her why she was still here because i didn't want to keep leading her on! that's why i stayed for longer after the rose ceremony, i just wanted to check on her and make sure she was okay with all of this because i still care about her! i loved her at one point in my life!"

"that's not what i saw in last night's episode!"

"what?!"

"yeah! you and jihyo were all close and snuggly and she told you she still loved you and you said you were going to give her a second chance!"

"y/n i never said any of that." the rage has lifted slightly now, replaced with confusion.

you're breathing heavily, tired from arguing, you and sana had more fights these few weeks that you've been filming than you've had your entire lives together.

you tap out of your messaging app, going to tiktok and searching up last night's bachelorette episode, scrolling past all the funny jacky moments and amusement park shorts, trying to find the part where jihyo and sana were talking. someone had to have posted about it.

"are you serious right now? are you fucking texting miyeon while we're talking?"

"what?! no! sana i told you miyeon and i are just friends! i'm trying to find a clip of you and jihyo last night to show you what i'm talking about!" you find one then and quickly hold it out for sana to see.

she watches the clip replay a few times while you wait defiantly.

after the seventh replay you take your phone back, sighing when you think she has nothing to say for herself.

“y/n…”

“want to explain yourself now? anything else you wanna divulge while you’re at it?”

“what? no y/n i didn’t say any of that. they edited that together. i didn’t say any of that to jihyo i promise.”

you look at her in confusion, looking back to your phone, and then back to her.

“i did pull jihyo aside and we did talk but i never told her that i didn't get over her. y/n you have to believe me baby i- i can call the producers right now, they'll clear everything up." she's reaching for her phone, but the immense relief that she doesn't still have feelings for jihyo washes over you and brings you to action. moving around the counter and taking her phone from her and wrapping her in a hug.

she stills against you, and you're both surprised when you feel your own tears falling down your face, the tension of the night finally getting to you.

"y/n..."

"i'm sorry. i'm sorry i do believe you. this all seems so silly now i hate when we fight. i overreacted with the whole jihyo thing and it could've been solved so easily if i'd just talked to you instead of..."

sana softens against you, wrapping her arms around your waist and carding a hand through your hair. "it's okay baby. i'll talk to the producers tomorrow and make sure they don't pull anything like that again. and after the home visits i promise jihyo is the one who'll be going home."

you sniffle a little, "you don't have to do that for me sana. i swear i was just being..."

"hmm?"

"i don't know i'm tired sana. can we go to bed?"

she hums against you, pulling you both towards the bathroom for your nighttime routines. once you're done, you're climbing into sana's bed and picking up your phone again, scrolling back to your messages with miyeon while waiting for sana to finish her routine and join you.

y/n: heyy sorry i just got my phone back, sana's had it the last few hours because i left it behind so if i seemed weird over text it's because she was messaging you

miyeon: oh it's okay! i did think you sounded a bit off but i just chalked it up to u not feeling well or something. was sana mad when she found out we were texting?

y/n: 😂 how did you know?

miyeon: well i was on the receiving end of her jealousy when she texted me today so that was one clue 😂

y/n: jealousy?

suddenly your phone starts vibrating and miyeon's name flashes across the screen. you pick up hesitantly, "hello?"

"y/n! hey! it's good to actually hear your voice again!"

you chuckle a little, "you too princess. what's up?"

"nothing really, i just wanted to see where your head's at with sana now."

"what do you mean?"

"remember the conversation we had the night i got kicked out? while you were drunk?"

you squint a little, shuffling around in the sheets, "kinda... why?"

"i noticed the way you looked at her, the way you talked about her, even on the first night i think the reason why no one suspected that you weren't just a regular contestant was because i thought, we all thought you also felt the same way we did for sana."

"w-what?"

"you might not have realised it... but i think you were beginning to see it when filming started. do you get jealous when you see sana with the other contestants?"

"i- well- i mean i kinda just thought i was friend jealous though. or like that i just wanted the best for her which was why i was so harsh on contestants in the beginning."

"the way you talk about her over text sounds like its more than that y/n."

"i don't- what- i'm not jealous-"

you barely register that sana's finished with her routine now, sliding into bed next to you and cuddling up immediately. "what are you jealous about?"

you freeze, looking at her like you've been caught with your hand in the cookie jar in the middle of the night.

"is that sana?" you're broken out of it quickly when you hear miyeon's voice over the phone.

sana bristles though, moving away from you and frowning, "are you on the phone with miyeon?"

"i- yeah-"

sana's snatching the phone out of your hand instantly, bringing it up to her ear and speaking into the microphone with a cold sneer, "yes this is sana. can i help you?"

you can't hear miyeon respond but the way sana's speaking sends a lightning rod of arousal down your spine. your mind is still hazy with what miyeon's suggested, and you're thinking about how you hated seeing sana kiss wonsik, how blinded you felt when you thought sana still liked jihyo, what could this mean? how long have you liked sana for? has it always been this way?

you don't realise that sana's features have become less defensive as she talks to miyeon, almost apologetic even when she settles back down next to you, humming in response to something miyeon's said over the phone. she's within proximity again that you can make out miyeon's voice.

"-but i hope you've been doing well and taking care of yourself with all the craziness that comes along with filming."

"yeah thank you miyeon. really. and again i'm so sorry for all the misunderstandings nd i hope you know that eliminating you was definitely a mistake and it was very short-sighted of me but i'm glad that we've finally had a chance to talk where i'm not completely hostile to you."

you can hear the airy giggle of miyeon over the phone, "of course! all the best with the rest of the season sana. maybe we'll see each other on the other side."

sana smiles, "definitely. goodnight miyeon!"

she hangs up and hands your phone back to you, going right back to cuddling as if nothing had happened.

you're trying to pick out what part of that conversation that you overheard bothered you when it hits. "eliminating miyeon was a mistake?" was this the jealousy again?

"weren't you the one saying that?" sana raises an eyebrow at you, brushing her fingers over your side.

"well- i-"

she's giggling now, "i'm just kidding. miyeon just put to rest everything that was on my mind so i have nothing to worry about. i'm sorry for overreacting when i found out you were texting her. you're allowed to have friends, sorry i was trying to micromanage that."

"what was on your mind?"

"hmm y'know... you mostly."

you whine, hitting her lightly while she laughs at you.

"she told me you were just friends and she never meant to make it seem like it was anything else. she also helped me... come to terms with a few things so i'm actually very grateful for that."

"what things?"

"so many questions y/n. are you worried i'm about to steal her away from you?" sana teases.

"what? no! stop teasing-"

she grins, poking your cheek, "i'm keeping that to myself for now okay? i'll probably tell you one day. just not today."

"why not?"

"just because." she smiles, "now let's sleep."

you grumble a little, confused at what miyeon could have told sana, confused with what miyeon told you. there was one thing you did want to test out though...

you lean in quickly and capture sana's lips, taking her a little by surprise but she's quick to reciprocate, closing her eyes and kissing you back.

you're aggressive, climbing on top of her quickly and licking into her. you're trying to figure out if kissing her made you feel anything more. anything that could clue you in on your true feelings for her.

she's breaking away from you panting though, pushing you back slightly when you try to chase after her again, "woah y/n baby baby slow down- what's got you all in a rush?"

your eyes are dark as you look down at her, friends don't normally feel like the world would end if they stopped kissing right? you needed to be back on her, in her, needed to feel her around you, needed to taste her, needed to memorise every single sound she made, you needed her. that was more than just lust right?

"just- just need you please-" you're leaning back in, almost begging.

"no- no y/n stop. tell me what's going on, you're not normally like this."

you groan, head falling to her shoulder, slumping against her. "something stupid miyeon said..." you mumble into her shoulder.

"what did she say?"

you huff against her, "that i had feelings for you."

you hear the gasp sana lets out, her hands at your waist tightening their hold and you groan into her, grinding down a little at the feeling.

she stills you though, hands sliding down to grip your hips, "stop that." her voice is harsh, and you're reminded of the way she talked to miyeon over the phone, all cold and annoyed. it only makes you drip more at the tone of her voice and you whimper a little.

"do you?"

"do i what?" you're distracted, wanting only to kiss her again.

"do you have feelings for me?"

you sigh, "don't know- that's what i'm trying to figure out."

"how are you trying to figure it out?"

"kissing you. touching you. seeing if all of it made me feel something more."

"something more?"

"i don't know. something other than horny."

sana hums before finally loosening her grip. "okay. try it. just promise me you'll tell me what you think afterwards?"

you're quick to latch onto her lips again, mumbling yes and thank you into her.

she bucks her hips up against you and you moan. she was finally giving into her feelings and letting you do what you wanted, expressing herself freely.

“can you- mmf- can you-“

“what what is it baby? what do you need?”

“can you- be mad at me?”

she’s kissing down your neck, nipping slightly as you grind down into her, “i’m not mad at you. we talked about this just then baby.”

“no- i need- can you pretend to be mad?”

she’s licking up to your ear, “i don’t understand baby. can you elaborate?”

“f-fuck sana- can you- just imagine i did like miyeon and i wanted to fuck her-“

you’re scared you said the wrong thing and ruined the mood when she stills under you. then all of a sudden she’s rolling you over and straddling your hips, lips and teeth back at the sensitive parts on your neck. “you like it when i’m mad?”

“g-god yes sana please-“

“whore. you want me to mark you up? make sure everyone knows your mine? mine to ruin?”

“yes yes sana please-“

you moan when you feel her sucking at your collarbone, intending on doing exactly that.

"off." her hands are at the bottom of your shirt tugging, and you scramble up, almost knocking your forehead against hers in haste, you'd laugh but you were so pent up you couldn't think about anything other than her fucking you all night long.

her hands are cold when she slides them up your stomach, cupping your tits and you shiver at the feeling.

"trying to piss me off on purpose bringing up her name into this hm? after we just made up too." she squeezes and you gasp into her, nipples hard against her palms as she runs a thumb over the tip.

"think my pretty baby's going to come for anyone else?" she circles a nipple leaving you twitching, "i'm going to ruin you so that everytime you even come close to coming in the future, you'll only be able to think about me."

she's licking a trail down the middle of your chest, before sucking marks into the sides of your breasts, avoiding your nipples, only tracing them lightly with the tip of her thumb.

you're squirming around under her, begging and crying, eyes clenched shut, hand drifting down towards your folds, trying to alleviate some of the pressure that's built up.

she snatches your hand quickly and pins it above your head, "don't even fucking think about it."

you whine under her, trying to pull away from her grip but she has you completely under her control.

"don't do that baby. you asked for this didn't you? you're going to be a good girl and take it now." her lips come back down on your other tit, sucking and licking again, you're grinding up into nothing, stuck with the feeling of your own sticky arousal.

"p-please sana need- please- more-"

"what do you need baby? this?" she takes a nipple into her mouth then, sucking gently and flicking over it with her tongue, then popping it out of her mouth, "or this?" a hand trails lower, thumbing the waistband of your pyjama bottoms. "maybe this?" a knee comes up then, pressing right where you need her most and you’re moaning against her.

"g-god sana- fuck- all- all of it- god i need all of it-"

"be more specific sweetie. you can do it. c'mon now."

"f-fuck need you to fuck me like you said you would. need to feel your fingers inside me, your mouth wrapped around my clit, your hands gripping my ass so hard it'll leave behind handprints. just need you sana please- please-"

"mmm that's a good girl. begging for me like the slut you are. because you were so pretty i'll give you that. but you gotta talk me through it okay? if you stop i'll stop and i'm going to go fuck myself in your bed and leave you here for the rest of the night."

you whimper, nodding your head.

"words baby."

"yes, yes yes god please just-"

she smirks and then she's back at your nipples, fully sucking on them now and pulling your bottoms off along with your panties, immediately swiping a finger through your wetness. the sudden change from feeling nothing to feeling everything be stimulated was almost too much but also exactly what you needed.

"god sana please- inside- need you inside."

she's pushing one finger in and you feel yourself clench around her, already so close, desperate for her. suddenly you're remembering your actual task, but before you can formulate another thought she's pulling out and thrusting back in with another finger.

"god you're so wet for me baby. how long have you been thinking about this hm?"

"i- fuck- i'm never not thinking about you sana."

sana hums, keeping a slow, languid pace, "is that helping with your little mission tonight?"

"i- w- fuck sana faster please-"

"answer the question first."

"f-fuck i- i don't know- i c-can't think- please-"

she's pulling out and removing herself from you so that none of your skin is touching anymore.

"now? now can you think?"

"sana please fuck- yes! yes it's helping everything is helping please just need you back-" you're making grabby hands at her, trying to pull her back so you can feel her against you again.

she obliges, pushing back into you and humming, "that's a good girl."

"thank you- god sana- thank you- mm fuck thank you-" you're babbling, barely making sense when she speeds up, curling her fingers inside you just the way she knows you like, and rubbing her thumb along your clit each thrust inside.

soon enough, you're coming around her, her name and curses spilling out of your mouth but she's not done. she's crawling down your body, marking almost every inch of skin she can get her mouth on, and then latching onto your clit and sucking, fingers still pounding into you.

"f-fuck! sana! 's too much! f-fuck-"

she only hums against you, the vibrations against your clit only tightening the coil in your belly once more and the overstimulation is too much and you feel yourself coming again.

she's pulling out and you think she's finished but she flips you onto your stomach, slipping a pillow under you to lift your ass up, hands gripping the cheeks and spreading them apart, just like how you had begged her to. but then her fingers are prodding at your entrance again and she slides in, and this angle is so much deeper and you cry out, muffled against the sheets, trying to squirm away from her but she's got your ass right where she wants you.

she's leaning down, pushing in and out of you again, you can feel her chest against your back, the fact that she's still wearing her top fleetingly crosses your mind but you can still feel her hardened nipples against your skin, you arch back into her.

"my baby's not done yet. you're going to give me another one. and another one. until you've finished your little experiment right?"

you're sobbing into the sheets, the delightful mixture of pleasure and pain running through your body, your hyperaware of every single movement, every single place your skin touches, every breath she takes as she ruts her fingers into you.

you feel your third orgasm coming up when a hand is snaking a way back up your body, pinching roughly at your nipples before closing around your throat. you gulp and clench even harder around her fingers when she squeezes her hand lightly, moaning your approval.

"yeah? you like that slut?"

"y-yes o-oh god fuck- sana- fuck-"

she's squeezing tighter now and the pressure is perfect, the lightheadedness from the cutoff of oxygen combined with the overstimulation and you're coming again, thrashing into her as she releases you slowly, heaving in air as specks of black dot your vision.

you feel almost numb when she slides the pillow out from under you, turning you slightly so she can kiss you gently, and you moan at the taste of yourself on her tongue.

she's slipping a leg between yours when you realise that she's taken off her bottoms, and you gasp when the feeling of her wetness glides against your clit.

you whimper against her lips, "sana..."

"shhhh baby one more."

you're helpless against her, whining and pushing yourself into her, relishing the way her breath catches and she moans when your clits drag along each other. she's got one hand at your tit again, pinching a nipple and you need to feel more of her so you slide a hand up her top, grasping at her breast and moaning when she rocks against you just a little harder at the feeling.

your lips never leave each other, even when you're so blissed out you're just panting into her mouth, rutting against her. you're not even thinking straight when you mumble the words, slurred together and mixed with curses, but sana still catches it. "i love you."

she stops immediately, leaving you humping her like a dog, panting into her wondering why she's stopped.

she's gripping your hips, stilling you, eyes wide, "what did you just say?"

"i love you sana fuck- please- please let me come again please-"

her eyes study you, half-dazed, and then suddenly she's rutting against you again, your hands tighten around her tits just to be able to hold onto something because she's pushing against you and you're so close and her hands are basically moving your hips against hers without you even doing anything, she's moaning into your mouth, caught in her own pleasure and it's all too much when you feel her tighten her legs around you, coming with a whine and shaking, you come again, eyes closing and feeling the wave of pleasure wash over your body, twitching lightly against her in the aftershock.

when you pull apart your legs are sticky and filthy and hers aren't much better, stained with your essence, you can't even open your eyes, just letting her plant light kisses across your face and neck, holding her against you and learning to breathe again.

when she kisses your eyelids you manage to peek open, staring at her in wonder.

"did you mean it?" her eyebrows are slightly furrowed, hair sticking to her forehead, bottom lip protruding a little in a pout.

you were overcome with pleasure and overstimulation, but you remember everything you said. "i did. i love you. i'm sorry it took this long to realise it."

she sighs, eyes tearing up, "i love you too idiot."

"what about the season?"

"we'll figure that out later. let me clean you up and we can cuddle and sleep?"

you hum, whining when she leaves you to grab a damp towel, missing her warmth already. it felt painful to be without her. every second you spent apart, you were thinking about her, you can't help but laugh at how stupid you've been. you've been in love with sana for the better half of your life, you were determined to make it up to her. to show her just how much you loved her. just how much you needed her in your life.

you smile happily when she comes back, bringing her into a sweet kiss and letting her wipe at your legs. you were so, utterly, in love with her, and you finally realised it.

[cqwnii]

warnings : reader has an asthma attack ! referred to in 2nd person, might be ooc + not proofread

genre : x reader, fluff + (angst?), mini story + headcanon format.

P.1 : Ashlyn, Logan, Aiden

☆ 》 ben clark 《 ☆

the group has been running from these phantoms for too long now, you can feel your legs giving up, your chest tightening and your breathing getting shallower, you quickly grab your inhaler, "fuck.." you mumble as you find out your inhaler is empty, your lungs feel like their on fire and your sweating profusely. "guys, my inhaler.." was all you choked out before your body gave up on you, falling to your knees trying to breathe

☆ Ben panicked, adrenaline rushing through his body as he quickly picked you up and carried you right inside the graveyard, you guys were trying to do a quick mission to ashs house (before you had the jeep.) but it didn't go according to plan.

☆ you weakly sat on one of the many seats in the schoolbus, the others checking around the base to see if there was any refills for your inhaler as ben was by your side, making sure you stayed conscious and weren't about to pass out from your asthma attack.

☆ unfortunately that was your last inhaler refill, and you were extremely pale and sweating as if you were in the vegas during the hottest week there.

☆ ben typed out on his phone, making sure to instruct you through your asthma attack to the best of his ability. "concentrate on your breathing y/n." the robotic TTS voice spoke, ben didn't know if you could see properly, so he used to TTS option so you could hear the instructions.

☆ the others were worriedly around you, but making sure to give you breathing space, as they were all concerned about your increase in asthma attacks you've been getting since savannah.

☆ as your asthma attack subsided, ben typed out on his phone to make sure you feel better. "how are you feeling y/n, can you breathe?" you nod as she mumble that you feel better and can actually breathe without struggling.

☆》 Tyler hernandez 《☆

the group has found themselves in a predicament, you can feel your legs giving up, your chest tightening and your breathing getting shallower, you quickly grab your inhaler, "fuck sakes.." you mumble as you realize your inhaler is in your motel room. your lungs feel like their on fire and your sweating profusely. "Wait.. guys I-.." was all you could get out before you fell straight to the ground, the phantom right behind you.

☆ Tyler easily recognized your weak voice, turning around quickly to pull you up before the phantom got to you. it was strange on how this is almost the same thing they found in the sorrel house. tyler pulled you close to him right before ashlyn slammed the phantom with the janitor cart.

☆ tyler brought you into the other motel room. as the other two looked out to see ash, aiden and ben, Tyler patted you down to see if you had your inhaler, but to no avail you didnt. he sat you down and made sure to instruct you on your breathing.

☆ "take deep breaths okay y/n?" Tyler spoke, he carefully held you as the other three came into the motel room, they were a little confused on why you collapsed but were a little more shocked by tyler comforting you.

☆ tyler glared at the others before looking back at you and keeping you awake and making sure your breathing stabilizes sooner than later. he was definitely worried and the others haven't seen him this concerned since they met him, besides taylor of course.

☆ although you didn't have your inhaler, this asthma attack as a mild one and it ended in only a couple minutes with the help of Tylers quick thinking, cause in all honesty you might've forgotten the steps to calm down your attack from the anxiety caused by the phantoms.

☆ "y/n are you okay..?" tyler worriedly spoke as he pulled you close to him, once you confirmed you're alright he hugged you tightly, muttering a few words you couldn't really understand. "just rest okay..? we'll figure out whatever the hells going on." he spoke as you nodded, he let you laid down on his lap as you eventually fell asleep.

☆ 》 Taylor hernandez 《☆

the group has been running from these phantoms for too long now, you can feel your legs giving up, your chest tightening and your breathing getting shallower, you quickly grab your inhaler, "the hell...?" you mumble as you find out the medication canister is gone. your lungs feel like their on fire and your sweating profusely. "tay, I can't breathe..." you weakly spoke right before collapsing to the ground, struggling to catch your breath.

☆ Taylors heart stopped. first she watched her brother fall off a cliff, now she couldn’t bare to see her lover die to the hands of a phantom. She immediately turned around and pulled you out of the way of the phantom.

☆ thankfully ash heard the phantom behind you, and was quick to swing into action. the phantom only managed to give you a little scratch, but thankfully that's all the phantom managed to do.

☆ taylor pulled you inside the gas station, sitting you upright against one of the shelves and making sure you stay conscious. She noticed the empty inhaler mouthpiece and checked her pockets to see if she had a canister refill for you, only to find out she doesn't have one.

☆ " y/n.. just focus on breathing.. Ty-.. ash check if they have any inhaler canisters.." Taylor spoke, she held you close to her and continued to make sure your breathing is getting stabilized. The others were concerned as there was on 7 minutes till they shift back, worried since you never had an asthma attack during a shift, which could harm you.

☆ ashlyn found your dose and quickly passed it to taylor who put it in your inhaler; making sure it worked before pulling it to your lips and assisting you with using it, one dose.. two doses.. and now they need to wait.

☆ after a few minutes your asthma attack subsided and resolved. Taylor held you close and muttered sweet nothings as a few tears ran down her face, a few choked sobs slipping from her lips. "I was so worried about you y/n.." she spoke before planting a kiss on your cheek.

—————————–———————————––——

A/N : yippie guys ^^ i kinda didn't know what to write for this part, but i figured out some ideas. though they might he repetitive and such 😓

[that1emowitch]

Guilt

A/N: This was the result of a horribly vivid series of nightmares and daydreams I had. Kinda raw in some areas. T/W: Suicide Attempt, Suicidal Thoughts, Canon-Typical Violence Set after UTRH, in an AU where Bruce isn't a shitty Dad and Dick didn't know about Jason being Hood.

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Word Count: 11152

The dull ache behind Dick's eyes felt like a constant thrumming in his skull. It wasn't a headache, not exactly, but a dull, throbbing reminder of the fragmented sleep he'd wrestled with all night. Images flickered at the edges of his mind, fleeting and nonsensical, the aftertaste of a nightmare he couldn't quite grasp.

He was both grateful and terrified that he couldn’t remember the nightmare.

He was better off in this void, just floating, disconnected, not real…

RING!!!!

The shrill blare of the alarm ripped him fully awake, a jolt that sent a tremor through his already strained muscles. He swatted at it blindly, silencing the insistent shriek. The harsh light of dawn filtered through the blinds, painting sickly yellow stripes across the rumpled sheets.

He stared at the ceiling, the white plaster a stark contrast to the leaden weight in his chest. His mind, usually a whirlwind of thoughts and plans, was a vacant lot. No playful banter with himself, no strategising for the upcoming day. Just… nothing.

There was no point in trying to go back to sleep. He knew that. His body ached in a way that transcended physical exertion, a deep, bone-deep weariness that lingered even after the adrenaline of the night had faded. He couldn't remember what had woken him, the nightmare a fleeting memory already dissolving into the fog of exhaustion.

He didn't need to remember, anyway. Nightmares were a part of the deal, these days. Unbidden companions in the lonely hours between sleep and wakefulness. With a sigh that rattled his chest, Dick rolled onto his side, pulling the covers tighter around himself. He didn't move, didn't think, didn't even breathe deeply. He simply existed, a hollow shell adrift in a sea of grey.

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RING!!!!!

The dull ache behind his eyes morphed into a throbbing pressure as the alarm screeched back to life. Dick flinched, a low moan escaping his lips. The sound was a physical assault, each insistent ring echoing in the hollow space of his skull.

A weight landed on his chest, accompanied by a wet tongue being dragged across his chin. Haley, his faithful Bitewing, had apparently decided Dick's alarm clock wasn't loud enough. He forced a weak smile, scratching behind the dog's ears and kissing her face. The familiar warmth of Haley's fur offered a flicker of comfort, but it wasn't enough to dispel the leaden weight pinning him to the bed.

He knew he should get up. He had work, he had gymnastics classes to teach, patrol later… But the thought of facing the day, all those people, felt like scaling Mount Everest in flip-flops. What happened to Extraverted Darling Dickie Grayson? He wondered momentarily. 

Every fibre of his being screamed for just five more minutes, ten maybe, an eternity of oblivion beneath the covers. But he knew the world wouldn’t stop for him.

With a sigh that rattled his chest, Dick finally pushed himself upright. The world tilted slightly on its axis as the blood rushed back into his legs. He stumbled slightly, catching himself on the nightstand. His room mirrored the chaos within him. He’d never been a very clean person, but at least he tried. However, today, clothes were scattered across the floor, a half-eaten protein bar lay abandoned on the desk, and his Nightwing suit, lay carelessly crumpled on the chair like a discarded exoskeleton.

He should put that away later.

The kitchen beckoned with the promise of coffee, the lifeblood of heroes (or at least moderately functional ones). For a second a ghost of a smile played across his lips at the hypocrisy of it – he spent hours preaching to Tim to drink less coffee, and here he was.

But it vanished just as quickly. Even the mere thought of turning on the coffee maker, the measuring, the brewing, felt like an insurmountable task. His stomach rumbled in protest, a pathetic counterpoint to the exhaustion gnawing at him.

It’ll be fine, He told himself. I’ll just buy something to eat later.

He shuffled to the bathroom, the fluorescent light assaulting his already strained eyes. The face staring back from the mirror was pale, and drawn, with dark circles that seemed to have taken permanent residence under his eyes.  It was a face he barely recognised, a face that held none of the usual spark, none of the cocky charm that had once been his trademark.

He splashed water on his face, the cold offering a temporary jolt. He looked away, refusing to acknowledge the haunted look in his reflection. There was no time for introspection, not now.  He brushed his teeth with mechanical motions, the taste of toothpaste sharp and metallic on his tongue. Just get through the day, that was the plan. One step at a time. He repeated the mantra to himself, a silent plea in the face of overwhelming apathy.

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Dick finished his bathroom routine, the harsh light revealing the full extent of the damage beneath his eyes. He looked older, wearier, a far cry from the ever-youthful Dick Grayson.  Even Haley, usually a whirlwind of enthusiastic tail wags at the start of the day, sat by the door with a subdued thump of her tail. A pang of guilt stabbed at him. Haley deserved better than a shadow for a companion.

He knelt down, scratching her ears with a forced smile. "Hey girl, you feeling under the weather too?"  

Haley licked his hand once, a gesture that felt more like sympathy than her usual exuberance. The decision hit him with the sudden clarity of a gunshot. He couldn't take care of Haley right now, not the way she deserved. Alfred, with his endless patience and love for all creatures, would be a far better guardian.

"Alright, girl," he said, his voice rough. "Looks like you're going to spend some time with Alfred for a while. He'll spoil you rotten, trust me."

Haley tilted her head, a flicker of something akin to understanding passing through her intelligent brown eyes. Dick clipped on her leash, the familiar weight a grounding presence. “Don’t worry,” He whispered, trying to keep his voice light. Dogs hear emotion, not words, he reminded himself. “We’re still going for our walk!”

Dick brought Haley on their usual round through the nearby dog park. It was quite deserted today. Dick found himself thanking the heavens for that. It passed in a blur, and before he knew it Haley was leading him back to their apartment building.

As they walked out of the lift on Dick’s floor, Mrs Sanchez, their friendly neighbour, stopped him in the hallway.

"Dick Grayson! My goodness, you look like you could use a good night's sleep."

Dick's stomach lurched. He plastered on a smile, the effort a physical strain. "Ha! Just a late night, Mrs. Sanchez. Nothing a good old cup of coffee can't fix, right?" His voice sounded too high-pitched, too strained even to his own ears.

Mrs. Sanchez peered at him with a look of concern that scraped against his already frayed nerves. He needed to get out of there, fast.

"Well, don't you push yourself too hard, young man. We all need to take care of ourselves sometimes."

Dick mumbled a goodbye, the weight of her words pressing down on him. He couldn't handle her well-meaning concern, not now.  He reached his apartment door, the key feeling like a foreign object in his hand.

A single glance at his reflection in the hallway mirror was all it took. The dark circles under his eyes looked like bruises, stark against his pale skin. Panic surged through him. He couldn't let anyone see him like this.

He darted back into the apartment, his heart hammering in his chest.  Reaching for his makeup bag, something Roy and Wally had once gifted him as a joke, he applied concealer with trembling hands. The product did little to mask the exhaustion etched into his face, but at least it offered a thin veil of normalcy.

He could pretend to be your average 22-year-old, living alone and juggling two jobs. Not a… whatever he was.

He couldn't let the exhaustion show. He squared his shoulders, a mask of forced cheer replacing the despair that threatened to consume him. One step at a time, he reminded himself.  Just get through the day.

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Dick emerged into the gymnastics centre, the mask snapping into place as quickly as he shut the door behind him. A charming smile played on his lips as he greeted Mr. and Mrs. Lee, parents of one of his young students. The practised ease of his interactions with the neighbourhood was a comfort he clung to.

Inside the bustling gym, Dick was a whirlwind of encouragement. He coached flips, offered playful corrections, and high-fived successes. He was the embodiment of a patient, enthusiastic mentor – everything Tim would bluntly call "excessively cheerful, but very Dick Grayson."

But beneath the surface, his mind was a warzone. The exhaustion from the night pressed down on him like a heavy cloak, making his movements sluggish and his words stilted. He felt like a shell going through the motions, a hollow imitation of his usual vibrant self.

Then, a voice shattered the fragile illusion.

"Hey, Mr. Grayson! You know, you kinda remind me of someone," chimed in a bright-eyed seven-year-old named Ethan, mid-somersault.

Dick froze. Remind him of someone? A smile strained on his face. "Oh really? Who's that, buddy?"

"My big brother, Jason! He used to come here and watch me practice sometimes. Before you came here. He’s way cooler than you, though," Ethan declared with a mischievous grin.

The air in the room seemed to thin, the noise fading into a background hum. In Ethan's place, Dick saw a horrifying image – a lifeless Jason, his once-vibrant eyes vacant beneath a bloody hood. The memory, sharp and sudden, ripped a gasp from his throat.

He stumbled back, forcing a laugh that sounded more like a choked sob. "Woah there, Ethan! Don't flatter me too much!" He ruffled the boy's hair, desperately trying to regain his composure. "Jason was one of a kind, that's for sure."

“Was?” Ethan’s brows furrowed. “He’s not dead, he’s just in college.”

“Yeah, that— sorry,” Dick stumbled over his words, quickly leaving Ethan’s side to correct another little girl’s somersault, desperate to distract himself.

But the vision lingered, a dark stain on the periphery of his vision. His smile felt brittle, his cheer forced. The mask he wore felt suffocating, amplifying the growing emptiness inside.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. All he could feel was a crushing weight of guilt. 

He'd failed Jason. He'd failed to protect him. And now, what about Tim? Would he fail him too? 

The question echoed in the hollow space where his joy used to reside, leaving him numb and utterly alone.

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The final whistle blew, signalling the end of the class. The excited chatter of the children faded as they filed out, leaving Dick feeling like a deflated balloon. He knelt down, forcing a smile as he helped Ethan onto his feet. "Good job today, champ! Keep practising those flips!"

Ethan grinned, oblivious to the storm brewing inside Dick. As the last child left, Dick slumped onto a padded mat, the exhaustion finally overwhelming him. He closed his eyes for a moment, the weight of the day pressing down. He couldn't stay here, not now. He needed to see Tim, needed to know his only remaining little brother was alright.

He drove back to his apartment, a restless energy coursing through him. Leaving Haley behind felt wrong, but he knew Alfred would be happy to have her company. As he packed a duffel bag with essentials, a dark thought flickered across his mind. Why would Alfred be happy? Lately, Dick had barely visited, and hadn't even returned Alfred's texts.

Pushing the thought aside, he loaded Haley into the car, patting her head reassuringly. "Hey girl, we're going on a little trip. You're gonna be staying with Grandpa Alfie for a while, alright?"

Haley whined softly, sensing his distress. Dick scratched behind her ears, offering a weak smile.  "It'll be fun, trust me. Alfred has the best treats."

He drove ‘till evening, the familiar Gotham skyline rising on the horizon as dusk approached. Dick felt a tremor of apprehension run through him. He hadn't visited the Manor unannounced in years, not since his last fight with Bruce… he shut that door in his mind with a slam.

Parking the car in the driveway, he took a deep breath, steeling himself. He rang the doorbell, the familiar chime echoing through the silent house. The door creaked open, revealing a smiling Alfred.

"Master Dick! What a pleasant surprise!" Alfred exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with seemingly genuine joy. Dick blinked, surprised by the warmth in Alfred's voice. Had he missed a birthday? Some family event?

"Hey, Alfred," Dick managed, forcing a smile.

"Come in, come in, Master Dick. It's good to see you. I was just about to start making dinner." Alfred bustled around, ushering Dick inside. The familiar scent of freshly chopped vegetables and baked bread filled the air, a comfort he hadn't realised he craved.

As Dick settled into a chair, Haley nudged his hand with her wet nose. "Oh dear," Alfred said, spotting Haley. "It seems you've brought a guest."

Dick sighed. "Yeah, about that… I'm going to be a bit… unavailable for the next few weeks. I was hoping you could look after Haley?" Shame burned in his throat as the words left his mouth. He couldn't bring himself to say it, not yet. He shouldn’t even be asking Alfred for help; he’d raised Dick out of kindness and obligation to Bruce, not because he genuinely wanted to. He shouldn’t be forcing this on the already overworked man.

Alfred knelt and scratched Haley behind the ears, the dog wagging her tail enthusiastically. "Of course, Master Dick. I'd be happy to. In fact, it will be nice to have some company around the house. It's been a bit… quiet lately."

Dick's heart clenched. Was that Alfred's way of asking him to return? He couldn't say anything. Not yet.  "Thanks, Alfred. I… appreciate it. Just let me know if you need anything."

"Now, now, Master Dick. You focus on whatever you need to do. You just let me know when you plan to be back."

Dick nodded, unable to meet Alfred's gaze. "Yeah, I'll let you know."

He spotted a bowl of little sweets set near the kitchen counter, likely for Tim or Steph when they passed by. He considered popping one in his mouth, if only to maintain his carefree and playful persona, but eventually decided against it. He couldn’t stomach putting something in his mouth, he felt like he’d throw up.

Instead, Dick rose from his seat, the floorboards groaning under his weight. The playful charade felt hollow on his tongue, the thought of a fake snack turning his stomach. The sweets felt almost cruel, taunting him like that.

Clearing his throat, he forced out a question, "Uh, Alfie, do you know where Tim's at?"

Alfred paused in his chopping, a knowing look settling on his face. "Master Tim is in the Batcave, Master Dick. Said he was catching up on some case files."

A wave of relief washed over Dick. Tim was safe. He was here. But the relief was tinged with a prickling unease. He hadn't spoken to Tim in weeks, hadn't even bothered to return his texts. All that, after promising himself he’d take care of his little brother this time. Guilt gnawed at him, a familiar sensation these days.

He nodded stiffly. "Thanks, Alfred."

He made his way towards the Batcave, each step a descent into the familiar yet intimidating haven.

The cave door hissed open, revealing Tim hunched over a holographic computer and newspaper clippings, brow furrowed in concentration. He looked pale, too thin for a 14-year-old, but his eyes held a familiar fiery determination.

Dick stood there for a moment, the cavernous space suddenly deafening with silence. He wanted to apologise, to explain, to offer some semblance of support. But the words wouldn't come. The weight of his own struggles seemed to constrict his throat.

Tim finally looked up, startled at his presence.  "Dick? What are you doing here?"

The question hung in the air, raw and accusatory.

"I, uh…" Dick stammered, the cavernous space amplifying the awkwardness.  "Just checking in. Making sure you're, uh, doing okay."

Tim stared at him for a beat, his expression unreadable. "Yeah, I'm fine," he finally said, a touch too quickly. He turned back to the holographic display, dismissing Dick with a finality that stung.

“So, what’re you up to?” He tried to keep up the conversation, not let this light fade.

Tim’s brows furrowed ever so slightly, the way they did when Tim was annoyed but masking it. “Just working on some case files,” He answered after a beat. He returned to his files, the awkward silence stretching between them. Dick had always been the one to fill silences, to crack jokes, to bridge the gap between them. But today, the words were locked away, a prisoner in his own mind.

Dick felt a strange sense of vertigo. He, the usually charming, charismatic Dick Grayson, was at a loss for words. It was a feeling so foreign, so unsettling, it made him want to crawl out of his own skin.

The weight of his helplessness was crushing. Here he was, the supposed older brother, and Tim was the one holding it together. It should have been the other way around.

Suddenly, an impulse seized Dick. He leaned down, ruffling Tim's hair with a gentleness that surprised even him. "I love you, Timbo," he choked out, the words thick with unspoken emotions.

Tim froze, his brow furrowing in confusion. "I… love you too, Dick," he mumbled, his cheeks flushing slightly.

Dick straightened, a strange emptiness settling in his gut. Was that all there was to say? Where were the heartfelt conversations, the shared anxieties, the bond they used to have?  He was lost, adrift in a sea of his own making.

"Alright, well, uh… I'll see you around," Dick stammered, the awkwardness hanging heavy in the air.  He beat a hasty retreat from the Batcave, the silence following him like a phantom.

As he emerged into the Manor he spotted the last rays of evening sun disappearing through the windows. It was getting late; He couldn’t drive back to Bludhaven and make it to patrol tonight. He sighed. Guess he’d stay at the Manor tonight.

Then another thought hit him. Bruce. 

Bruce was right here, in this house. Dick couldn’t handle another argument with his foster father tonight, he’d finally lose it.

He wouldn't see Bruce. No, not tonight. He wasn't ready for that conversation, not until he understood the storm raging within himself. Tonight, he just needed a place to crash, a roof over his head.

With a sigh, he headed to his old room at the Manor. He passed by the kitchen, just to tell Alfred he wasn’t very hungry, that he’d eaten on the drive to Gotham. Then he retreated to his bed, setting an alarm to wake up right before patrol.

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The trapeze stretched endlessly above a churning abyss. Below, the wind howled, whipping Dick’s hair into his eyes. A sickening fear twisted in his gut, the spotlight blindingly bright. He noticed the lack of a safety net below – no one in their right mind would try this trapeze. But that's where his parents were, clinging desperately, their faces etched with terror as the rope slowly snapped.

"My Robin!" His mother's voice, strained and raw, barely reached his ears.

But this wasn’t how it actually happened, was it?

He lunged, arms outstretched, the distance impossibly vast. His fingers grazed his father's, just for a fleeting moment, before their grip loosened. Their cries, a horrifying symphony of despair, were lost in the howling wind as they plummeted.

Dick screamed, a primal, agonising yell that tore from his throat. He launched himself forward, defying gravity, but it was too late. The net gave way with a sickening snap, offering no solace, no reprieve. He watched, his world turning into a swirling vortex of red and bone, as their lifeless forms crumpled on the unforgiving ground.

Then, strong arms enveloped him, pulling him back from the precipice. A choked sob escaped him as he buried his face in a familiar chest. Warmth and an iron grip anchored him, a sliver of safety in the face of utter devastation.

"It's okay, Dick. It's okay." Bruce's voice, rough with emotion, offered a fleeting balm. He was nine again, small and angry and vulnerable, clinging to Bruce, who promised to keep him safe. But the moment of comfort was shattered.

A manic laugh echoed through the darkness, chilling Dick to the bone. There, standing between him and Bruce, was the Joker, his painted grin grotesque under the harsh light.

"Ah, Boy Blunder, always the disappointment!" he cackled, his voice dripping with venom. "Couldn’t even save the last one, could you? What was his name? Oh, yes, poor little Jason."

A wave of murderous fury washed over Dick. Visions of Jason, lifeless and pale in his funeral casket, flooded his mind. He lunged, fueled by a primal rage. The fight was a blur of fists and fury, his own screams mingling with the Joker's hysterical laughter.

He didn't know how long it lasted, the adrenaline a white-hot fire consuming him. But eventually, the Joker lay still, a crimson stain blooming on his chest, the sick smile plastered permanently on his cold, dead face.

Dick stared at his hands, stained red, realising with a sickening dread what he had done. He didn’t completely regret it. 

His breath came in ragged gasps as he turned to face Bruce.

But Bruce wasn't there. In his place stood Batman, his features obscured by the cowl. The disappointment in his eyes, a bottomless pit of sorrow, was a blow worse than any physical harm.

"You failed, Dick," Batman's voice, a low growl, echoed in the vast emptiness. "Just like you always do."

The words hung heavy in the air, a chilling indictment. Then, Batman turned and walked away, his silhouette fading into the darkness.

Dick was alone, the deafening silence broken only by his ragged gasps for breath. He was lost, adrift in a sea of despair, the echo of Bruce's voice a constant reminder of his failures. He had failed his parents, failed Jason, and now, he had failed Bruce.  There was nothing left, no hope, no redemption.

He woke with a gasp, heart hammering against his ribs, the nightmare clinging to him like a shroud. The sheets were damp with sweat, the cold air of the guest room a stark contrast to the inferno within him.

As the nightmare receded, a chilling realisation dawned on him. He didn't know what scared him more, the brutal deaths of his loved ones, or becoming the faluire that Bruce feared him to be.

But the terror wasn't over. A cold, clammy hand brushed his cheek. He bolted upright, his scream echoing in the empty room. Moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating a horrifying tableau.

Jason's lifeless body lay beside him, his face contorted in a silent scream. Tim, his usually perky little brother, was sprawled on the other side, a crimson stain blooming on his chest. A choked sob escaped Dick's lips as he scrambled away, his back hitting the wall. Panic clawed at his throat as he saw a weathered tombstone by the foot of the bed. The inscription sent a fresh wave of terror crashing over him: "Alfred Pennyworth. Loyal friend, devoted father and grandfather."

Dick could feel sticky, hot blood on his fingers, coating his body, drowning him. It’s like he was bleeding to death. Catalina’s honey-sweet voice echoed through the room, too distant to make out the words but loud enough to choke him.

Across the room, Barbara lay unconscious, a pool of blood spreading beneath her. Her breaths were shallow and raspy. A horrifying realisation dawned on Dick. He wasn't bleeding to death, she was. The nightmare wasn't over, it was just getting started.

“No, no, no…” Dick whimpered, covering his head with his hands and curling into a ball, willing the nightmares to go away. But they persisted, tearing him apart piece by piece, clawing and ripping until there was nothing but a hollow void left.

It was his fault.

All his fault.

In the distance he could see figures hanging by their necks, suspended from trees. Wally, Roy, Garth, Raven, Gar, Donna… Kori lay on the ground beneath them, still and frozen, devoid of her usual warmth and fire.

NO! He wanted to scream, but no words came out.

Dick clawed at his throat, gasping for air that wasn't coming. His heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs, echoing in his screaming ears. But the screams were silent, a horrifying internal torment. The figures around him, bathed in the sickly moonlight, remained motionless, their lifeless faces a tableau of his deepest fears.

A piercing shriek ripped through the room, jarring him awake. It wasn't Barbara's ragged breaths, nor the echo of his own silent scream. It was the blaring of the guest room alarm clock, a harsh intrusion into the chilling nightmare.

He lay there, eyes squeezed shut, fighting for sanity.  The sheets were still damp, the air thick with the memory of terror. But the phantoms were gone. The room was devoid of the macabre scene that had played out moments, or was it hours, ago? He couldn't be sure.

Slowly, Dick opened his eyes, blinking against the weak light filtering through the curtains. The room looked normal, empty except for the furniture. Relief washed over him, a fleeting wave in the ocean of despair. He couldn't remember the specifics of the nightmare, just the raw emotions – fear, loss, and a bone-deep sense of failure.

He pushed himself out of bed, his muscles stiff and protesting. A quick glance at the clock confirmed it was still 10 pm. Tim and Bruce must have left for patrol by now. 

Good. 

He wasn't ready to face Bruce, not yet. He couldn’t explain that he loved Bruce, that he was sorry they fought all the time. Couldn’t explain how much he regretted everything he did wrong. Couldn't explain the nightmares, the vulnerability they exposed.

Instead, he showered, the cool water doing little to soothe the turmoil within him. He dressed quickly, pulling on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, a stark contrast to the sleek black suit he should be wearing.

Downstairs, the house was quiet. The scent of coffee hung in the air, a tantalising lure for his exhausted mind. But he couldn't allow himself the comfort. Not today.

He slipped out a side door, the cool morning air a shock to his system. He needed the Batcave, the familiar weight of his Nightwing suit, the focus that came with flying over the city. Maybe tonight, when Gotham needed him, he could outrun the monsters that haunted his dreams.

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The thrill of the chase coursed through Dick's veins as he apprehended the third group of muggers that night. Adrenaline was a poor substitute for a good night's sleep, but at least it kept him sharp. Everything was still a blur, but it was more like he’d mentally checked out but functioning, rather than being catatonic. 

Landing gracefully on a Gotham rooftop, he scanned the area, his gaze falling on a familiar traffic light-coloured figure perched on the edge.

"Robin?" Dick called out, his voice barely a whisper above the city's constant hum.

Tim startled, his wrist-computer snapping shut with a click. "Nightwing. Didn't hear you come up."

Dick landed beside him, noting the furrow in Tim's brow. "Lost in a case already, Baby Bird? Early start, aren't we?"

Tim shrugged, his expression uncharacteristically guarded. "Just following up on something. You wouldn't know anything new about the Red Hood, would you?"

Dick's breath hitched. Red Hood? The brutal vigilante-slash-crime lord Bruce had been obsessing over just a few months ago? "Red Hood? Why do you ask?"

Tim tapped his wrist-computer, lost in thought. "He disappeared for months, then suddenly reappeared a few weeks back. But B... well, Batman isn't exactly pulling out all the stops to find him anymore. It’s like they’ve made peace or something. It's weird, right?"

A knot of unease tightened in Dick's gut. This was strange. Bruce wouldn't just abandon a case, especially one involving a dangerous vigilante. Not unless there was a reason he wasn't sharing with them. And knowing Bruce, that was likely the case.

"That is weird," Dick agreed cautiously. "Did B say anything about it?"

Tim shook his head. "Nope. Wouldn't tell me a thing. So, I figured I'd do some digging myself."

Dick understood Tim's curiosity, but a part of him worried about the direction this investigation might take. It was standard Robin protocol to disobey Batman’s orders, but the Red Hood was dangerous, and absolutely hated Robin. 

The image of Tim, bloody and dying in the Titans Tower, flickered over reality for a moment, chilling Dick to the bone.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could voice his concerns, a crackle of static interrupted him.

"Nightwing, Robin," Oracle's voice cut through their comms, sharp and urgent. "Gunfight in progress, two blocks east of your location. Possible hostage situation."

Dick exchanged a quick glance with Tim. "Looks like we have other priorities for now, little brother. Let's go."

Tim nodded, his earlier apprehension replaced by a steely focus. Together, they launched themselves into the night, the mystery of Red Hood temporarily put on hold as they raced towards the sound of gunfire.

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Sirens wailed in the distance as Nightwing and Robin descended upon the scene. A dark alleyway echoed with the frantic pop-pop of gunfire, a silhouette of three gunmen visible against the flickering glow of a streetlamp.

"Civilians?" Dick barked into his comm, eyes scanning for any signs of bystanders.

"Scattered on the east side of the alley," Oracle responded. "Looks like a family caught in the crossfire between Penguin and Black Mask’s gang members."

A plan formed in Dick's mind. "Robin, you take the east side. Evacuate the civilians, get them out of here. I'll handle the shooters."

"Got it," Tim replied, his voice tense but steady.

Using the shadows as cover, Dick and Tim flanked the alleyway. Tim, nimble and agile, slipped through a fire escape and disappeared into the darkness.  Dick, utilising his acrobatic skills, launched himself across the open space, aiming for a dumpster that offered a sliver of cover.

The moment he landed, a hail of bullets zipped past him, embedding themselves in the metal with sharp pings.  Dick cursed under his breath, whipping out his Escrima sticks and attacking the criminals. His aim was precise, taking out the gunman's peripheral weapons one by one. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Robin leading the mother and her daughters away.

Tim's voice crackled through the comms. "Family's safe. Heading back to your position."

Relief washed over Dick, momentary and fleeting. Just then, the last remaining gunman, desperate and cornered, emptied his clip in a blind rage. Dick, focused on returning fire, didn't see the glint of two stray bullets not aimed at him, that pierced into Tim's abdomen before anyone could react.

Tim's startled yelp ripped through the night, followed by a heavy thud as he crumpled to the ground.  Dick's blood ran cold. "Robin!" he screamed, his voice raw with terror. Ignoring the remaining gunman, he launched himself towards his brother.

A dark figure swooped down from the rooftops, a blur of black and grey. Batman landed with a heavy thud, his cape billowing around him. He disarmed the gunman with an effortless efficiency before turning his attention to the fallen Robin.

Dick reached Tim's side, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. Tim lay near motionless, a spreading stain blooming on his red chest. Panic clawed at Dick's throat. "Baby Bird! No, no, no!" he choked out, his voice thick with despair.

He fumbled with his communicator, his hands shaking so violently he could barely press the buttons. "Oracle! Get Leslie to the Cave, now!"

"Already on it, Nightwing," came the reply, laced with urgency.  But the words seemed to fade away as Dick focused on the shallow breaths escaping Tim's lips, the crimson that stained his gloved hand.

He pressed his hand over the wound, applying pressure with trembling hands.  The world narrowed to the sight of his little brother, pale and still, the life draining out of him with each laboured breath. The fear that had haunted his nightmares was now a terrifying reality, and Dick was utterly helpless to stop it.

The world spun, a kaleidoscope of red and black blurring around Dick as he pressed his hand onto Tim's chest. A horrifying vision flickered over Tim's pale face – Jason, lifeless and cold, his blue eyes staring emptily into eternity. Dick's stomach lurched, a primal scream trapped in his throat. This couldn't be happening again. Not Tim. Not another brother lost!

His vision swam as a large hand clamped on his shoulder, firm and steady.  "Nightwing, stand back," Bruce's voice, a low growl, cut through the haze of terror.

Dick felt himself being pulled upright, a numb puppet on a string. Bruce knelt beside Tim, expertly assessing the wound, the cowl doing little to hide the worry etched on his face. Dick watched, detached, as Bruce called for the Batmobile, his own voice gone, replaced by a hollow echo.

When the Batmobile arrived, screeching to a halt in the alley, Bruce scooped Tim up, his movements swift and practised.  He looked at Dick, his eyes filled with a storm of emotions Dick couldn't decipher.

"Get to the cave," Bruce ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument. Dick could only nod, his body a statue carved from despair. He watched as Bruce disappeared into the Batmobile, the red taillights vanishing into the night, taking with them a piece of his soul.

Alone in the blood-soaked alley, the weight of his failure crashed down on him. He hadn't been able to protect Jason, and now, he had failed Tim too. The guilt was a crushing tsunami, threatening to drown him. He sank to his knees, the cold concrete biting into his skin, a welcome contrast to the inferno raging within him.

Slowly, the hallucination faded, but the sight of Tim, pale and motionless, was no less horrifying. The red stain on his shirt grew larger, a macabre bloom mirroring the one that had claimed Jason's life.

A choked sob escaped Dick's lips, tears blurring his vision. He couldn't stay here, couldn't face the echoing silence of the empty city. With a Herculean effort, he pushed himself to his feet, a tremor running through his limbs.

He stumbled back to his motorcycle, the vehicle suddenly feeling unfamiliar, a foreign object beneath his shaking hands. He revved the bike, the purr of the engine a distant echo in his ears.

The drive back to the Batcave was a blur. He didn't remember the streets he passed, the red and blue lights of police cars flashing by like phantoms in the night. He was on autopilot, driven by a desperate need to be with Tim, to somehow make things right.

By the time he reached the Batcave, the air hung heavy with a sterile scent and the rhythmic beeping of life support. Bruce and Alfred were there, a grim tableau of concern etched on their faces. Tim lay on the medical table, his chest rising and falling with the help of the machine, a stark contrast to the peaceful slumber he should have been in.

Dr. Leslie, her brow furrowed in concentration, worked on removing the bullets from Tim's abdomen. The exposed flesh, the glistening red, sent a wave of nausea crashing over Dick.

He stumbled back, his legs giving way beneath him. Bruce caught him before he could hit the floor, a firm hand on his shoulder. Dick could only stare at the scene before him, his mind numb, his body a hollow shell. Bruce’s face was tight, eyes filled with… disappointment?

Of course Bruce was disappointed.

Dick had failed. He had failed them all. And the worst part? He didn't know if he could even face Tim if he lived. Because how could he look at his little brother, his Baby Bird, and not see the ghost of Jason staring back at him?

Bruce's hand tightened on Dick's shoulder, his voice low and gravelly. "Get some rest, Dick."

But Dick saw only disappointment in his father figure's shadowed eyes. Disappointment in his weakness, his inability to protect. Jason's lifeless face flickered again, superimposed on Tim's pale form. He heard the words Bruce was too stoic to say: You failed. This is all your fault.

So Dick decided to say them instead.

"No," Dick rasped, his voice raw. "It's my fault. I failed him, just like I failed Jason."

The words tumbled out, laced with a self-loathing that twisted his insides. He couldn't stay here, not under this suffocating weight of his failures. Not with Bruce's silent judgment hanging in the air.

With a surge of adrenaline that surprised him, he ripped his arm free and stumbled back. "I… I need some air," he choked out, the words a desperate plea for escape. He didn't wait for a response, just bolted towards the Batcave entrance, the image of Jason's lifeless eyes burning into his retinas.

He didn't remember the ride into the city. His mind was a chaotic storm, replaying the events of the night on a loop. The alleyway, Tim's crumpled form, the sickening sight of Tim's wound. The crushing guilt, a relentless tide threatening to drown him.

He reached Babs’ old apartment on autopilot, the familiar surroundings offering no solace. He hadn’t come here in years, why now? He couldn’t stay here, he shouldn’t be here. He needed to run.

Without a second thought, he twisted the keys once more, the engine roaring to life the moment he threw himself on the bike. He sped through the city, the wind whipping at his face, a welcome sting against the numb terror that had him in its grip.

He had no destination, no plan. Just the desperate need to escape, to outrun the demons chasing him. As he weaved through deserted streets, a familiar landmark caught his eye – the old Gotham Mall, looming over him. And on the side at the top, nearly 20 stories high, a smaller gargoyle jutted out, barely visible in the night.

A jolt of recognition shot through him. It was Jason's favourite gargoyle, a hidden nook he used to visit after patrols. The memories were still crystal clear in Dick’s mind – sharing greasy Batburger take-out and laughing at each other's jokes. A bittersweet memory, tainted by the weight of his guilt.

He pulled over, the bike screeching to a halt on the deserted street below the tower. He grappled up, climbed the building with practiced ease, his movements fuelled by a morbid curiosity.

As he reached the gargoyle, a wave of vertigo hit him. His breath caught in his throat as he looked down. Heights hadn’t bothered him in years since his parents’ deaths. The bustling city stretched out below him, a tapestry of twinkling lights and inky shadows. The street seemed a dizzying distance away, a good twelve stories down.

He felt a strange sense of calmness wash over him. The city, once a symbol of hope and justice, now mirrored the chaos within him. Here, perched on the edge, he could almost see the peace of oblivion beckoning.

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Was this the only way to escape the ghosts that haunted him?

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The wind howled around him, a chilling symphony to his despair. Below, the city lights bled into a blurry mess, the distance both terrifying and strangely inviting. A voice, insidious and cold, slithered into his mind. 'They're better off without you, Dick. All you do is bring pain. Jason, Tim, your parents...even Barbara left ‘cause she saw she’s better off far away from you.'

The names echoed in the vast emptiness of his mind, each one a fresh stab of guilt. Jason's lifeless face superimposed itself onto the city lights below, a horrifying reflection of his failure. Tim, pale and broken, joined the macabre image. His parents plummeted into the abyss, their screams lost in the whistling wind. Bruce's face, etched with disappointment, loomed large.

A choked sob escaped Dick's lips. This pain, this crushing weight of failure, was unbearable. He could end it all here. Finally find some peace, some solace in the oblivion below. It wouldn't solve anything, wouldn't bring them back, but at least it would stop the pain. He wouldn't be a burden anymore.

This would be better for everyone.

A tear streaked down his face.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath. This was it. This was the only way out. As he leaned forward, a hand slammed onto his shoulder, yanking him back from the edge.

He stumbled back, heart hammering against his ribs, eyes flying open to see a large figure standing behind him. The moonlight cast an eerie glow, obscuring the figure's face. But the voice, a familiar rasp that sent shivers down his spine, cut through the chaos in his mind.

"Wingding, what are you doing?!"

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Disoriented, Dick's eyes snapped open, the city lights swirling before him. A hand, rough and calloused, gripped his shoulder again. Someone was calling out to him, desperate, but it seemed so far away. He blinked the grogginess from his eyes, his breath catching in his throat.

Standing there, bathed in the pale moonlight, was Jason.

Jason, in the Red Hood gear, minus the helmet. His face, too old and grown-up, was etched with a mixture of anger and something that looked… like concern?

But there, superimposed on the living Jason, was a horrifying image of Jason's lifeless body, the grotesque grin of death frozen on his face.  Dick's mind reeled. Was this real? Was Jason a hallucination conjured by his fractured mind?

"I'm sorry," Dick choked out, his voice barely a whisper.  "I couldn't save you. I'm the reason you're dead…"

Jason swore under his breath. This wasn't good. Dick's voice was thick with despair, his eyes glazed with a terrifying emptiness.

"Dick, listen to me," Jason said, taking a tentative step closer. "It's me, Jason. You're not hallucinating."

His words seemed to be filtered through a thick fog in Dick's mind. They didn't register. He took a stumbling step back, the world tilting precariously beneath him.

Finally, this would end.

"Dick, don't do this!" Jason yelled, his voice laced with desperation. He lunged forward, grabbing for Dick's arm. But in his haste, he overshot, his own momentum causing him to stumble.

Dick flinched at Jason's movement, his gaze fixed on the horrifying apparition that mirrored Jason.  He saw Jason's hand reaching out, but didn't register the concern in the action. To him, it seemed like a desperate lunge to drag him over the edge.

He let out a whimper, squeezing his eyes shut.  "Leave me alone," he mumbled, collapsing backwards, his body hitting the rough stone of the roof behind the gargoyle with a heavy thud. “I failed you. Failed Tim. Bruce. My parents. Everyone.”

Jason landed hard beside him, the wind knocked out of him. Dick didn’t fully register bulky arms wrapping awkwardly around him, his face being pressed into leather in an imitation of safety. This was the Red Hood, for God’s sake! Dick really should run away. But why did the criminal save him?

“Look, Dickface, you were in space when I died, okay?” A voice shouted in the distance. “Fuck, don’t give up on me… Dick, hey, stay with me…”

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He was being lifted.

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Everything was a blur. City lights below him – above him? He couldn’t tell. Leather wrapped around him, someone in Kevlar holding him tight.

Sounds, distant, too bright.

Too muffled, at the same time.

The world was a swirling kaleidoscope of pain and fragmented images. One moment, Dick saw the distorted city lights, the next, a comforting hand on his shoulder. Then, darkness.

He surfaced again to find himself being lowered onto a cool, firm surface. A pair of gentle hands, large and calloused, held him steady. A familiar scent, sterile yet homey, reached his nose.  "Alfred?" he rasped, his voice dry and thick.

The reply was a murmur, barely audible. Then, a flash of Red Hood’s logo, stripped bare of the leather jacket and paired with a familiar black-haired boy – Jason?  But how…? Wasn’t he…

A new image snapped into focus. Tim. Lying still on a bed next to him, pale but undeniably breathing. Machines whirred and beeped rhythmically, a comforting counterpoint to the frantic hammering of his own heart.

Tim was alive. A wave of relief so intense it almost knocked him out again washed over him. He had failed him, failed them all, but Tim was alive.

Then, another thought wormed its way into his muddled mind. How did he get here? Where was Jason? He tried to lift his head, but a searing pain shot through his temple, forcing him back down.

"Easy, Dick," a calming voice said, a hand pressing gently on his forehead.  "You need rest."

He recognized Bruce's voice, but it sounded distant, muffled as if underwater. He wanted to ask about Jason, about how they got back, but his eyelids felt heavy, the effort of forming a single thought monumental.

The confusion deepened. Had Jason carried him? How was that possible? More importantly, how was Jason even there?

He drifted in and out of consciousness, the fragmented images blurring further. Alfred's face, a mask of concern, swam into view. Briefly, he thought he saw Jason lurking in the shadows, his helmet back on, obscuring his face.  But then, the image dissolved, replaced by Tim's pale visage, the rhythmic beeping of the machine a lullaby against the storm in his head.

Just as he was about to grasp at the question of Jason's presence, exhaustion claimed him. His eyelids fluttered shut, the darkness finally a welcome embrace.  The swirling questions, the self-loathing, everything faded into a blessed oblivion. He couldn't fight the demons in his head right now, not when the one battle truly won mattered most – Tim was alive, and maybe, just maybe, so was Jason.

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Dick could see his parents’ mangled bodies on the ground, far, far below. 

He was balanced precariously on a swinging trapeze, his hold on the wire loose. He’d be joining them soon.

Tears, free-flowing, streamed down his face as he stood, letting go of the wire. Then he was jumping, letting go of his grappling hook, letting himself fall.

He was falling, falling, falling..

The ground hurtled closer yet seemed so far away, his Robin cape billowed in the wind above him. Bloody corpses on the floor raised their hands to him, beckoning.

Join us in peace.

The last Flying Grayson, he thought with a morbid smile. Meeting the same fate.

Then a voice called out to him –  Jason? Then another one. Tim. They… were grieving him?

The ground, now bloody and shattered, came closer and closer, when Dick suddenly realised, NO.

No, he didn’t actually want to die.

He had Timmy, Bruce, Alfred, Babs, Haley, Wally, Roy, Kori, all his other friends…

No, he couldn’t die.

But it was too late.

He hit the floor with a sickening crunch, feeling every second of pain as his bones crushed, as his flesh splattered on the ground next to his parents, as his breath abruptly stopped.

He was dead.

Dead, dead, DEAD—

NO!

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Dick jolted awake, gasping for air. His heart hammered against his ribs as if trying to escape his chest. The remnants of a nightmare clung to him, a chilling memory of falling, the wind whistling past his ears, the ground rushing up to meet him. He shuddered, pulling the thin blanket tighter around his shoulders.

His surroundings swam into focus – the sterile white walls of the Batcave infirmary, the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor next to him. Tim. He was still unconscious, but alive. A wave of relief washed over Dick, a bittersweet counterpoint to the lingering terror of his dream.

A low murmur reached his ears, a conversation in hushed tones. He strained to listen, his heavy eyelids threatening to close again.

"…didn't expect you back, Jason," Bruce's voice rumbled, an undercurrent of surprise evident.

"Not like you were exactly sending out welcome parties, Bats," came the sardonic reply, unmistakably Jason's. He was… alive! There was a defensive edge to his voice, but a touch of something else too, something Dick couldn't quite decipher.

"That's not the point," Bruce countered. "But… thanks. For what you did."

A scoff escaped Jason.  "Don't make me out to be some hero. I only came back for Dick."

Dick's breath hitched. Jason came back… for him? A flicker of warmth ignited in his chest, a spark of hope amidst the ashes of despair.  Despite the gravity of the situation, despite everything, a tiny part of him bloomed with joy.

“You’re always welcome here, Jaylad,” Bruce’s voice sounded again, low and vulnerable.

But the effort of staying awake was proving too much. His eyelids fluttered shut, the words "for Dick" echoing in his mind like a lullaby. He drifted back into sleep, the remnants of his nightmare replaced by a sliver of hope, a fragile belief that maybe, just maybe, there was still a way to outrun the demons that haunted him.

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Dick blinked open his eyes, the harsh morning light momentarily blinding him. His head throbbed with a dull ache, the memory of the nightmare a distant echo. He turned his head, surprised to find himself back in his room at Wayne Manor. The familiar mahogany furniture and plush bedding offered a stark contrast to the sterile white walls of the Batcave infirmary.

Sitting beside his bed, his back ramrod straight, was Alfred. The usually unflappable butler looked older, more weary than Dick had ever seen him. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his hands trembled slightly as he set a glass filled with a clear liquid on the bedside table.  "Electrolytes, Master Dick," Alfred said, his voice gruff with unspoken concern. "Dr. Leslie advised us to get some fluids in you."

Dick reached for the glass, his throat parched. "Thanks, Alfred," he rasped, his voice hoarse.  He took a tentative sip, the cool liquid soothing the dryness in his throat. He glanced across the room, his gaze landing on a figure slumped asleep in a corner armchair. It was Jason, the Red Hood helmet resting on the floor beside him, the harsh red of his gear clashing with the soft, floral-patterned fabric of the chair.

"Jason?" Dick croaked, his voice thick with confusion. "Isn't he… isn't he…"  He trailed off, the words getting caught in his throat. How could Jason be here, alive?

Alfred's lips pursed into a thin line. He looked at Jason for a moment, a flicker of something akin to pity crossing his face. "There's a lot to explain, Master Dick," he said finally. "But it's a conversation perhaps best left between you and your brother."  He straightened, his voice regaining its usual firm tone. "We'll need to get some real food into you soon. Your body needs its strength back."

With that, Alfred turned and left the room, leaving Dick alone with the sleeping Red Hood – Jason.  His mind raced. Jason was alive, that much was clear. But how? So many questions swirled in his head – a tangled mess of confusion and disbelief.

He soft sound of Alfred shutting the door was enough to jolt Jason from slumber.

"Hey, Dickwing," Jason rasped, his voice rough from disuse. As Dick focused, he noticed the glint of emerald green in Jason's eyes – they used to be blue...  But the biggest shock was how much Jason had grown. He was older, his features hardened with time and experience, the lines etched deep around his eyes telling their own story.

"How...?" Dick's voice cracked, barely a whisper. "How is this even possible?"  The news that Jason was alive should have been a joyous one, a weight lifted from his shoulders. But it was overshadowed by the crushing confusion and a tangle of unanswered questions.

Jason shifted in the chair, the leather creaking in protest. He reached for his discarded helmet, running his fingers over the red skull emblazoned on its surface. A deep sigh escaped his lips, heavy with a mixture of regret and defiance.

"There's a lot to unpack, Dick," he said finally, his gaze meeting Dick's. "Bruce knows. He figured it out a while back."

Dick stared at him, his brow furrowed.  "Knows what?"

"That I'm alive," Jason confessed, the words sharp like a knife. "And that…that I'm Red Hood."

Dick's breath hitched. Red Hood? The brutal vigilante that had been terrorising Gotham for months? The same man who’d tortured Timmy? It couldn't be… could it?  A wave of nausea washed over him, the confusion churning in his gut.

"But…but I saw you…," he choked out, the memory of the funeral, of Jason's lifeless body, a vivid nightmare.

"You did," Jason agreed, his voice low and sombre. "I came back, somehow. Not sure on the details. But Talia… she found me. Used some Lazarus Pit mumbo jumbo to truly bring me back."

He paused, his gaze flickering away from Dick. "After that, I was…lost for a while. Angry, vengeful. I blamed everyone, Bruce, the Joker… you..."  His voice hardened as he uttered the last part, a flicker of pain flashing across his green eyes. “I took it out on the kid. I… I’m so sorry about that, I don’t… I don’t expect you to forgive me, but…”

Jason cleared his throat, looking down at his hands.

"Then Bruce found me. I… I let him find me. He talked me down, pulled me out of that spiral. I went dark for a while, trying to figure my life out. But…"  Jason hesitated, his jaw clenching.  "Seeing you on that rooftop, about to…" he choked on the words, his hand tightening around the helmet.

"About to jump," Dick finished for him, a wave of understanding washing over him. It was accompanied by immense guilt, fear, dread. He was about to jump.

Jason nodded, his voice thick with emotion he tried to hide. "The thought of losing you… You weren’t just supposed to die like that, just leave, and…"  He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. The raw vulnerability in his voice, so unlike the hardened Red Hood persona, sent a pang through Dick's heart.

"So you came back," Dick said, a flicker of hope lighting up his eyes.  "To the Manor, to us?"

"Yeah," Jason admitted, meeting Dick's gaze head-on.  "I still have scores to settle, and this city needs someone cleaning up the streets. But seeing you like that… it scared me, okay? And I don’t say that often.”

The admission hung heavy in the air. Dick  looked at Jason, his heart overflowing with a mix of joy, confusion, and a touch of fear. There was so much to unpack, so many questions to be answered. But for now, the weight of his grief had lessened, replaced by a sliver of hope.  His brother,  against all odds, was alive.

“Please don’t do that again,” Jason whispered, startling green eyes focused on Dick’s.

“I…” Dick’s throat tightened. The hallucination of Jason’s corpse superimposed over the real Jason again, but Dick pushed it away. “I won’t. I promise.”

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Jason left after a minute, unable to take the emotionally charged conversation for too long, leaving Dick alone with his thoughts. He didn’t even get to hug his little brother.

The silence that followed Jason's departure was deafening. Dick stared at the empty chair, his mind racing with a million questions. How long had Bruce known? Why didn’t he tell Dick? And how had Jason become the brutal Red Hood?

A storm of emotions churned within him – relief at Jason's return, anger at the deception, and a gnawing fear for the path his brother had chosen. Yet, amidst the turmoil, a fragile hope flickered. Jason had come back. He had cared enough to risk everything to save him.

Lost in his thoughts, Dick hadn't noticed the soft knock at the door. It creaked open, revealing a weary Bruce Wayne. His usually stoic expression was etched with lines of worry and guilt, a stark contrast to the calm, collected persona he usually donned.

Dick flinched, a wave of self-loathing washing over him. This was his fault. The worry etched on Bruce's face, the exhaustion in his eyes, it was all a reflection of the pain he'd caused.

"Can I come in?" Bruce asked, his voice gruff but laced with a vulnerability Dick hadn't seen in years.

Dick nodded, unable to form the words to respond.

Bruce entered the room, closing the door softly behind him. He stood there for a moment, the silence stretching between them, heavy with unspoken emotions. Then, to Dick's surprise, Bruce did something he hadn't done in years. He crossed the distance between them and pulled Dick into a tight embrace.

The sudden gesture caught Dick off guard. He stiffened for a moment, unsure how to react. But as Bruce held him close, Dick felt a wave of warmth wash over him, a stark contrast to the icy grip of guilt that had held him prisoner for so long.

"I'm so sorry," Bruce whispered into his hair, his voice thick with emotion.  He repeated the words over and over, a broken mantra that spoke volumes.

Understanding dawned on Dick. Bruce wasn't just apologising for keeping Jason's secret. He was apologising for everything – for the pain of their parents' death, for the weight of being Robin, for failing to protect them both. Yet at the same time Dick wasn’t sure why Bruce was apologising – he wasn’t the one who’d just tried to commit suicide.

Dick wrapped his arms around Bruce, a silent response to his apology. He didn't need words.

Dick wanted to be mad at Bruce, for keeping Jason’s return a secret. But then again, he… he wanted comfort. However undeserving he was of it.

He pulled away after a minute, looking at Bruce with tears in his eyes. “Where… how’s Tim?”

Bruce’s expression shifted, but Dick couldn’t read him – since when could he not read Bruce?!

He feared the worst, but instead Bruce replied, “He’s awake. On bedrest for two weeks.” Before Dick could comment on that, he added, “Just like you.”

Dick flinched.

Bruce sighed, his hand cupping Dick’s face. “Are you okay?”

Dick melted into his foster father’s touch, a tear slipping out of his eye. “No,” He whispered, his voice hoarse. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

Warm, steady arms wrapped around him again, pulling him into another hug. “Shh,” Bruce whispered, kissing the top of his head. “It’s okay, you’re okay. I’m here now, okay?”

After a minute of this, Bruce asked quietly, “Are you… Do you still want to…”

Do you still want to jump? Dick heard the unsaid question that hit like a stab to his heart.

“No,” He forced out as his throat threatened to close up. “I don’t – I didn’t actually want to—”

“Then what were you thinking?” Bruce’s voice is uncharacteristically small, pained.

“I wasn’t,” A choked sob escaped Dick's lips as he clung to Bruce. The embrace felt like a lifeline, anchoring him in a sea of swirling emotions. He wanted to be angry, at Bruce for keeping Jason's return a secret, at himself for breaking down so completely.

But the anger wouldn't ignite. In its place was a numb despair, a crushing weight of guilt that threatened to consume him. "I just… I don't know how to fix this," he mumbled, his voice thick with despair.

Bruce remained silent, his hold a comforting pressure against Dick's back. After a long moment, he spoke, his voice gruff but laced with a gentleness Dick hadn't heard in years. "There's nothing to fix, Dick. You didn't break anything."

The words hung in the air, a challenge to the narrative Dick had built in his mind. He pulled away slightly, wiping a stray tear from his cheek. "But I did. I failed Tim, failed Jason…"

"No," Bruce interrupted, his voice firm yet soft. "You didn't fail, Dick. You saved them. You saved Tim from me, when I wasn’t at my best. And Jason… seeing you like that, on the edge… that was his wake-up call. It reminded him what he almost lost."

Dick stared at Bruce, his brow furrowed in confusion. Bruce was right about Tim, but Jason… how could him seeing his big brother on the edge like that be a good thing? No child should have to see that…

But he’s not a child now. He’s grown up…

"Jason went off the rails," Bruce continued, his voice low. "Consumed by anger and vengeance, controlled by the Lazarus Pit. But seeing you, realising what he could lose… it pushed him back from the edge. Maybe… maybe it can be a turning point for him."

A sliver of hope, fragile yet persistent, began to bloom in Dick's chest. Was Bruce right? Could Jason actually be on a path towards healing?

Bruce squeezed his shoulder gently. "We'll figure it out together, Dick. As a family.  But right now, you need to focus on healing yourself."

Dick met Bruce's gaze, a flicker of understanding passing between them. The apology, the comforting embrace, it wasn't just about Jason's secret. It was about everything – the weight of the past, the burden of their vigilante roles, the unspoken fear that had gnawed at them both.

He nodded slowly, a small, shaky smile forming on his lips. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way forward. A way to deal with the guilt, the grief, the fear. He wouldn't be alone. He had Bruce, and Tim, and Alfred, and now… he had Jason too.

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Dick sank into the worn leather armchair, the familiar creak a comforting presence in the otherwise tense atmosphere of Wayne Manor. Weeks had passed since his breakdown, and he was slowly piecing himself back together. The manor, a place that often felt like a battleground of memories, was currently an oasis of sorts. It was strange, having everyone under one roof again, a makeshift family reunion brought on by tragedy.

Haley had settled well into her new environment at the Manor, loved it, even. Why wouldn’t she? After all, everyone here found reasons to spoil her rotten. Right now she was running across the room, chasing a toy Jason threw. She stopped just long enough to press her wet nose into Dick’s hand, waiting until Dick rubbed the back of her ear before she bounded back to Jason. Jason ruffled her fur, whispering sweet words and kissing her face.

"Who knew you were a dog whisperer, Jay?" Dick remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Jason glanced up, a scowl flickering across his features before softening at the sight of Haley. "I’m not gonna be mean to a dog," he muttered, tossing the toy across the room again. Haley bounded after it, barking excitedly. “Plus, she likes me. Do you know how few people like me?”

The dynamic between him and Jason was…complicated, to say the least. Jason came and went like a phantom, his presence always shrouded in a tense silence. Dinners, once lively affairs filled with banter, were now punctuated by awkward silences and stolen glances. Jason avoided Tim completely, the air thick with unspoken resentment. Tim returned the favour, too skittish around the older boy. The Titans Tower  incident still resonated deeply, a fresh wound on both of them.

Dick, caught in the middle, felt the weight of their fractured relationship. There were moments when he saw flashes of the Jason he remembered – the sardonic wit, the fierce protectiveness, ghosts of the sweet boy he used to be.  But those moments were fleeting, overshadowed by the hardened vigilante he had become.

"Haley does favour you, Master Jason," Alfred observed, entering the room with a tray of steaming tea. He set it down on the coffee table, his gaze lingering on Jason. "Though I wouldn't recommend letting him chew on your jacket."

Jason snorted, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Noted, Alfred."

Despite the tension, there was a flicker of warmth in the interaction. Dick realised, with a pang of sadness, that these fleeting moments of normalcy felt all the more precious because they were so rare.

"Miss Barbara came by while you were resting," Alfred added, placing a small bouquet of lilies on the side table. "She asked me to tell you she misses you." He looked between his boys. “Both of you.”

Dick felt his heart skip a beat. Barbara had visited? He hadn't spoken to her since their break-up, the weight of his emotional turmoil driving a wedge between them.  The lilies, their white blossoms a symbol of purity and new beginnings, offered a sliver of hope.

"I miss her too," Dick admitted, a melancholic note in his voice. Across the room he saw Jason’s faraway, guilty look, how he absentmindedly patted Haley.

The rest of the afternoon unfolded in a quiet lull. Dick and Alfred chatted about Gotham's latest crime wave, the normalcy of the conversation a balm to his troubled soul. As evening approached, the manor was cloaked in an eerie silence. Tim had retreated  to his room, while Jason vanished into the night, leaving only the faint scent of leather and gunpowder in his wake.

Dick sat alone with his thoughts, a tangle of emotions churning within him. He was alive, his family, albeit fractured, was reunited. But the road to healing, both for himself and for the relationships shattered by grief and anger, seemed long and perilous. Yet, as he looked down at the lilies, their fragile beauty a testament to resilience, a single thought bloomed in his mind – hope. He wouldn't give up on his family, or on himself. There was a chance, however slim, to rebuild what was broken, to forge a new path forward, together.

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He was…

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He was so glad he was still alive.

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It still hurt, he still had nightmares despite knowing everything was better now, but…

He wasn’t alone anymore.

His brothers were both with him, Bruce loved him again…

Everything was better.

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He was so glad he hadn’t jumped.

[kathrynmjaneway]

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[tonycries]

Everybody Knows That I'm a Good Girl, Officers...

Synopsis. You don’t know what’s faster - how fast you were speeding down the highway, or how fast you’re on your knees for the hot officers that just so happen to pull you over.

Pairing. Officer! Gojo Satoru x Reader x Officer! Toji Fushiguro

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, police! au, unprotected, being pulled over, thréesome, eiffel tower, oral (female + male receiving), manhandling, dynamics, cúmplay, marking, they lowkey make it a competition, implied dp, some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.0k

A/N. I don’t condone actually speeding y’all.

You were screwed. Completely and utterly screwed.

“Shit shit shit-” you hiss, eyes flitting to the flashing red and blue lights in your rearview mirror, sirens blaring behind you. The engine roared, pavement a blur beneath your tires - a stupid, spur-of-the-moment decision. You knew you were pushing your luck with your late night speeding, fueled by an empty highway and even emptier adrenaline. 

And, well, it seems like your little thrill-seeking caught up with you, quite literally, as you hastily pull over on the side of the road. Heart sinking when the police car parks right behind you - the final nail in your coffin. 

You heave out a steadying breath, trying to get your thoughts in order long enough to come up with an even slightly believable explanation. Why did you think this was a good idea, again?

Tap! Tap! Tap! 

Shit, in the heat of the moment you’d barely heard the heavy footsteps in the distance. Immediately snapping your head up to look at-

Oh.

Whatever flimsy excuse dies in your throat with just one glance at the officer knocking at your glass - the unfairly hot officer. Your face burns as you urgently roll down the window - partly out of necessity, and partly because you really wanted to see him better. Those snowy white locks, and- shit was that a dimple at the corner of the sly little smile curling his lips?

Twinkling gaze locked with yours, he rests an arm against the roof of the car - and you almost have to look away, your looming speeding ticket being the last thing on your mind at the way his arms flex so enticingly. Leaning down to smirk, “Ya have any idea how fast you were going, sweetheart?”

His voice was playful, and deep enough that it takes a second for you to find yours. Swallowing thickly, you bat your lashes innocently up at him, “Sorry, officer. I have no idea.” 

“Fast enough that’s for sure,” he huffs out a laugh, eyeing the way you squirm embarrassedly in your seat, “C’mon, license n’ registration, now.”

Fumbling through your glove compartment, heat rushes down your spine when his fingertips happen just brush against yours as you hand over the documents. While he looks them over, you take the moment to read his badge - Gojo. 

“Officer Gojo-”

“Satoru, m’not one for formalities.”

“Officer Satoru,” you press, words laced with just the right amount of flirtation. “I’m terribly sorry, I promise I didn’t know the speed limit.” And if it were any other moment then you’d be almost embarrassed at how you were fawning over him - but, well, one look at him and how could you resist?

“M’sure.” Not when he dips his head infinitely closer, hot breath fanning your face. Close - too close. And especially not when he mutters lowly, “Out.”

Which is how you found yourself strutting down the highway in a straight line, trying your very best not to tumble under the pressure of a looming Satoru.

“Keep walkin’.” And by God he was enjoying this a bit too much. Leaning against your car, arms crossed, and watching your every move. Stare so intense that a stupid little part of you couldn’t help but wonder whether his eyes lingered on you a bit too long to check for signs of drunkenness or something else. 

“Well,” Satoru’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, whirling around to catch him sweeping you one last time from head to toe. “Seems you’re not under the influence.” And you’ve barely let a smug smile make its way onto your face before he’s plowing on, “But m’still gonna have to write you up for speeding.”

“Oh come on.” you drag out, slightly whiny yet not desperate - at least, not yet. Leaning ever-so-slightly closer to him, making sure that the tight top you wore lets him see a perfect view of your breasts. “I really didn’t know.”

Eyes flickering down. Once. Twice. 

Success. 

But Satoru only raises his brows, muscles rippling as he crosses his arms over his chest. And by the twinkle of amusement in his gaze, you knew the smug bastard was doing this on purpose. “There are consequences for breaking the law, y’know~ Even for pretty lil’ things like you.”

Inching forward, “Can’t I just be let off with a warning, please?”

“And what makes you think you deserve one?”

Something hot, and prickly coils in your stomach at his tone. “Oh I dunno…” you trail off, so close now that there was only a hair’s breadth between your two. You could feel the heat of his body at this proximity, and it was making your head spin. “I’m sure I can convince you I do.”

Satoru huffs out a laugh, grinning, “Not me, pretty girl.” And you’ve barely registered the words before the police car door slams again, and he’s nodding his head somewhere behind you. “He’s the one that’ll be writing your ticket.”

Oh? Oh, shit. 

Heart stopping, you whirl around to meet a matching, sly little smirk. “Meet, Toji, sweetheart. My patrol partner, of sorts.”

And in the dim lighting, you could make out how unfairly handsome he was. A bit older, uniform hugging him so sinfully tight - all dark hair and rugged, dangerous authority as he skims over your license. “Your superior.” the rough baritone of the newcomer’s voice sent shocks right down to your core. 

“Semantics.”

“What’ve we got here?” Toji asks, tilting his head, unabashedly drinking in the sight of you just as his colleague did. “Skipping out on your duties again, brat?”

“Of course not. Just that this one,” Satoru starts. And your skin burns at the way he addresses you, words dripping with a mean little tone as if you were nothing but a plaything, “Says she didn’t know the speed limit, and wants to get off easy.”

“‘Get off easy’, huh?” Toji hums thoughtfully. “Don’t know if we can do that, doll.”

“Mhm, the old man’s right for once. Can’t put our jobs at risk, y’know?”

But oh you’d never be fooled by their little act, you catch the way their eyes meet, a silent understanding stirring between the two. You bite your lips coyly, holding back a smirk as you unhurriedly reach out to pull Toji in by his collar. His knee between your legs, your back falling against Satoru’s front, strong arms steadying you by the shoulders. “Are you sure?”

You could feel his heartbeat quickening, as was the latter’s, toned chest rumbling at the way his partner grits out a hoarse, “Positive.” Shit, they make it so easy. 

Sandwiched between both men now, you whisper - low enough that they have to strain their heads closer to hear, “But I promise I’ll be a good girl, officers.”

Toji’s lips are on you before you know it - so hot and just as messy as you thought the man would be. One hand around your throat, squeezing lightly as he licks at the seam of your mouth. Such a desperate clash of lips and saliva as he bullies his tongue inside to intertwine with yours.

He tastes almost minty, with the slight taste of something so intoxicating that you don’t even realize you’re pushing down on Satoru, grinding in mindless little motions. At least, not until he’s gripping tightly at your hips, shifting your ass ever-so-slightly to graze against his swollen cock. 

That makes you gasp and pull apart, tiny strings of saliva snapping as you look behind at Satoru. Feeling him, so big, so hot behind you - even through his uniform. 

“Is that-”

“Shh, focus on what you’re doing, pretty girl.” he chuckles darkly. Breath ghosting your ear as a hand comes up to squish your cheeks together, forcing you to face forward. “Wouldn’t wanna make my dear supervisor here mad, huh?”

And it takes everything in you to take your mind off of how massive Satoru felt underneath you. Damp, and throbbing behind you, a wet little patch right where his angry tip was. 

The only thing that actually snaps you out of your little reverie is Toji’s voice, husky, and dangerously sweet. “I gotta say, m’feeling left out.” he sighs mockingly, fingers tightening around your throat. “And after I’m the one supposed to be writing you up? How rude.” 

You meet his eyes, half-lidded and looking at you hungrily. He liked this - seeing you all breathless and needy, so eager to please.

“M-m’sorry-” you squirm in their iron grasp.

“Now now, ‘sorry’ won’t always cut it.” Toji gives a soft, playful little smack to your ass, before addressing the other man. “Whaddaya say we do about that, brat?” 

You look up at Satoru pleadingly, only to be met with a dark chuckle. Shit, if anything, you thought that he would be the nicer of the two - but that stupid little illusion falls apart with every word that falls from his lips. And oh how he enjoyed watching your slow, dawning realization that no you weren’t going to get mercy from either of them. “Guess we should teach her some manners, huh?”

“I dunno…I don’t think her slutty lil’ pussy will learn, though.”

That felt like a slap to the face - one that had your dripping cunt quivering in- fear? Anticipation? You really couldn’t give a fuck right now, not when they’re talking over you like you’re some object. Not when Toji’s shoving his knee deeper in-between your thighs, rocking your hips lightly. You whine, “P-please. I want to.”

“Want to what? C’mon now, use your words like a big girl.” It’s Satoru now, teasing you as you hesitate in giving into what you really want. 

Your voice cracks pathetically, at the embarrassing admission. Being stuck between these two men way too much for you to handle. “I want…” 

“Say it, sweetheart.”

“Wan’ to be fucked by you both. Have you teach me some m-manners.”

And then it happens. 

Your back hits the cushion before you even realize what’s happening, sinking into your car backseat as the two officers shut the door behind you. Satoru sits on one side, while Toji pushes down the front seats on the other. Cramped, heady - and exactly where you wanted to be right now. 

Shit, when did they even open the car door? You don’t have half the mind to wonder, because neither of them waste any time. Immediately groping your tits - your waist - your thighs, everywhere and anywhere they could reach. 

Satoru’s kissing you now - drinking you in like you were his favorite taste. And you just think he might be yours, so sweet, like those cheap lollipops you saw at convenience stores. Drinking in your breathless gasps as Toji begins unbuttoning your top, letting it fall to God-knows-where and-

“Fuuuck.” he lets out a low whistle, “Kid, look at this.”

With an almost-pained grunt, Satoru’s pulling away. Eyes widening as he takes in the sight of you - braless, and exposed so shamefully for the both of them, of course. “No bra?” he mutters raspily. “Always knew you were a lil’ slut, doll.” But you knew by the way his breath hitches that he liked it. 

And Toji did too, if the way his fingers danced along your hardened nipples was anything to go by. “What did I tell you? Bet she’s got such a naughty pussy, too.”

Your head is spinning, both from his words and the way Satoru’s claiming your lips once again. Murmuring into your mouth, “Only one way to find out.”

And that’s all that is said before they’re all but ripping your skirt off your hips. The poor, flimsy fabric nothing against the two men that were now looking at your drenched panties in pure awe. 

In fact, Toji drops to his knees onto the car interior, face to face with your pretty pussy. Greedily drinking in the way your slick beads out so sloppily,  the way it glistens and clenches around nothing. Gaze heated enough that you’re embarrassed. 

“Ah ah-” Satoru tuts, seeing the way your bare thighs were trying to close - not letting yourself have even some semblance of dignity. “You said you’d be a good girl f’us, isn’t that right, old man?”

“Mhm, s’what she said.”

Shit, you can do nothing but have your legs wrestled open, Satoru’s fingers sliding so delicately underneath your panties. “You heard him, pretty.” Index sliding up and down, up and down up and- grazing your swollen folds, all the way from your base, stopping just below your throbbing clit. Tease. “So why don’t we let officer Toji here get a good look at how wet your pretty lil’ cunt is?”

Neither man waits for your answer - of course, they don’t.

Rip! 

Several things happen at once, you barely have the time to react before Satoru’s holding your panties in his fist, tattered and soaked with your slick. Your mouth drops open in disbelief as he dangles it like a badge of honor, holding it up, up, up, only to breathe in your scent obscenely. “Fuck, you even smell like the perfect angel.”

Toji - taking the opportunity - dives face-first into your pussy. Groaning at the taste - you were so sweet, so addictive on his tongue. Licking lazily up your swollen folds, letting your sweet sweet juices get all over his face as he buries himself nose-deep. 

“Oh!” you gasp, fisting his locks in your hands, “Shit shit shit-” Toji was in eating you out, exactly as he was with kissing - sloppy. Unabashed. Letting his tongue move so messily all over your cunt, while his colleague held you still. Letting him devour you as he pleased. 

“Shhh, don’t worry, sweetheart.” Satoru whispers into your ear, every cute lil’ whine of yours going straight to his painfully hard cock. 

And, well, Satoru can’t just sit here and watch Toji have you all to himself, now. Can he? Which is why he begins playing with your sensitive nipples. Twirling his hot tongue around one, rolling the other between his fingers.

Drunk off your moans and the way you’re so overstimulated by both men. Unable to decide between where your body wants to focus on - grinding down on Toji’s relentless mouth or leaning towards Satoru’s. And it’s driving you mad. 

“Hngh- fuck- Feel’s good.” you whine, bucking your hips wildly.

“Yeah? Ya like this?” Toji speaks first, words muffled around your clit. Sucking and rolling his tongue harshly across it. Over and over. Strangely in time with the quick, maddening little circles that Satoru licks around your nipples. 

Being ruined like this from both ends was way too much - so you can only nod deliriously. Shaking, bucking your hips into his touch so desperately. Letting Toji throw your legs over his shoulders, looking so fucking gorgeous in-between your legs like he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Brows furrowing in bliss as he tilts his head back, back, back so that your juices slide down his throat. “Shit.” Lapping even faster at your pussy. “Could get used to this.”

And let it be known that Gojo Satoru was a jealous man, because he pulls away from your tits with a lewd pop! Grunting sulkily, “Move over. Wan’ taste her cute pussy, too.”

Either Toji doesn’t hear him over the lewd little squelches coming from down below, or he ignores it - probably the latter. Continuing to make out with your cunt so messily. 

But Satoru was nothing if not persistent, snaking down a hand to gather your slick on his fingertips. Immediately shoving them in his mouth and oh- You watch blearily as his eyes roll to the back of his head, sucking his fingers clean like a man possessed. 

“Oh- fuck.” his mouth drops into a soft oh! Leaning forward like he wanted to kiss you senseless, only to halt and shuffle off the carseat. Because he wanted to make out with your cunt more. Dropping to the ground beside Toji, Satoru gives him a minute shove, “Move. M’not letting you be the only one to taste this heavenly pussy.”

“Hah- ya think you can eat her out the way she deserves, brat?” Licking at your inner thigh, “Lemme show you how a real man does it.”

“Watch and learn, old man.” Both men push your legs as far apart as they’d go, spreading you so shamefully for them. You reel from the stretch and the sinful sight below you. 

Because immediately, they’re making out hungrily with your cunt together. Sloppily and needy - tongues bumping into each other, intertwining, burying their faces between your legs as they eat you out like a little competition. Satoru’s licking up and down your slit, pooling your slick on his tongue, while Toji’s wrapping his pretty lips around your ravaged clit. 

“Sh-shit. Satoru- Toji. Ah! M’so close.” you squirm as they moan into your wet cunt, the vibrations sending white-hot pleasure running up your spine. Drinking in your little whimpers like they were addicted. 

“Like this?” Satoru groans. “Feels good being eaten out by the both of us?”

The car fills with your breathy moans, and it’s hard to speak with the way they’re alternating between flicking your clit and squeezing your tongue through your swollen folds. Stretching you out, thrusting at a frenzied pace - you don’t even know who is who at this point. Just getting off with a needy, “Ngh- fuck, yes yes yes- Feels s’good!”

“Like being our little whore, doll?”

Maybe it was Toji’s words - so filthy even when he was calling out to you sweetly. Or maybe it was the way Satoru was grinding his jaw as he plunges his soft tongue deeper into your plushy walls. Probably it was how they both looked at you - like you were their last meal. 

Because you’re cumming, and cumming so messily all over their mouths. “Shit. S’too much. Ah-”

And neither man stops - almost like it was difficult to part. Letting you drag your sloppy pussy incoherently all over while they continue to flick and dip their tongues. Big, fat tears pricking at your eyes from the overstimulation.

“Heh, you’re gonna make her cry.” Satoru grins, as he finally parts. Your slick glossing so prettily all over the bottom half of his face - and his partner wasn’t any better. Rising from in-between your thighs looking very decidedly not sorry for eating you out till you cry. 

You watch, speechless, as Toji swipes a thumb over his lips, watching in wonder the way it becomes sticky with your juices. “Could get used to this all over m’face, right?”

“Mhm.” the other man hums, absentmindedly fumbling with his shirt. Revealing smooth, milky skin - he was so deliciously sculpted, all toned muscled and a slutty waist that made your mouth water. Shit, he was a masterpiece. 

But Satoru - that impatient bastard - doesn’t even give you the time to admire the entirety of him before he’s unbuckling his belt. “Though I think she’d look better with something else.”

You gasp as he pulls down his pants, tugging just enough that his swollen cock springs out. Absolutely massive and such an angry red, weeping tip dripping all the way down his length. He was so long - the type of long that had you knowing that won’t be walking properly tomorrow. 

“How crude.” Toji titters, but shit how he loved the way you seemed so cockdrunk from the mere sight of Satoru’s dick. It almost made some tiny part of him jealous. 

“Whatever, dibs on her cunt,” Satoru grunts, one hand moving to toy so messily with your dripping entrance. Pointedly ignoring the heated glare thrown his way by Toji, and the way he begins rolling your clit between two fingers. Almost like a little standoff - with you stuck in the middle. 

Toji breaks first, “M’your superior, I should be the one to fuck her pretty pussy.”

“Aw come on.” the other man whines, and it would almost be comical if it wasn’t for the way his long fingers were massaging your hot core. “Think of it as a ah- learning experience. After all, who knows whether you’d hurt yourself trynna fuck her the way I can.”

“You mouthy little-”

“Now, pretty girl, let’s see if y’can walk the talk.”

And oh you should’ve known better than to think you’d be stuffed inside the backseat of a car with two police officers without them throwing you around like a rag doll. 

Immediately, Toji’s manhandling you, fingers digging into your waist as he pushes you on all fours. Lining his aching bulge right in front of your soppy mouth, saliva seeping into his pants. 

Well, there was no use wearing soiled clothing, right? You watch, cunt clenching in anticipation as he shoves down his pants in record speed. 

Oh, the universe was playing a joke on you - because Toji was just as big. If a bit thicker where Satoru was longer. Prominent veins glistening in the dim light, precum dripping all the way down to the maintained tufts of black at his base.

Shit, your eyes flit between the intimidatingly big cocks. One in front of you, grazing his fat tip across your lips, and the other positioned right over your sloppy entrance. You weren’t going to make it out alive. 

“Having second thoughts?” Toji scoffs, edging his hips closer. Greedily taking in how fucking pretty you looked with his precum glossing your mouth, messy and dripping down to your chin. “Wan’ tap out?”

You barely even have to your head “no” - because Satoru’s answering for you. Spreading your pussy lips with his thumb, taking one, long look before chuckling, “Course not. Y’should see the way her needy cunt is sucking my thumb up.”

“Well then. Guess we’ll get to the real fun.”

With that, Toji’s stuffing himself into your mouth. A low hiss leaving the back of his throat as you take him so well, lips bulging around his thick cock. Tonguing at the sensitive slit in a way that makes him lose his mind. 

Not even giving your a proper warning as he pushes in inch by fucking inch, watching you choke and gag around him. Not stopping till he’s got your nose pressed all the way against his toned pelvis. “Shit, relax yer throat. Fuck, ah- just like that, doll.”

And if you thought he was mean then you weren’t prepared for Satoru at all - not with the way he was immediately squeezing his thick head into your snug cunt. Head thrown back as your heavenly walls can’t decide between pushing him out or milking the fucking soul out of him. 

“S’tight, fuckin’ love this pussy.” Satoru gasps, jaw clenched, trying not to just fuck recklessly into your cunt until you’re drunk on his cock. But God is it difficult to keep his sanity when all he gets in response from you is a choked, wet gurgles. Body bowing into both of theirs as you desperately try to relax both your throat and your cunt. 

“Gonna stand around waitin’ or am I gonna have to ruin her pretty pussy for you?” Toji taunts, voice strained as he begins thrusting in quick, harsh strokes into your hot mouth. “Talked big, huh, kid?”

“Fuck off.”

And Satoru’s never one to lag behind. After all, he did graduate at the top of his batch at the academy - he can’t lose face in front of you or his annoying superior either. 

So he tightens his grip on your hips, hard enough that he’s pretty sure it bruises. Pushing down on your spine to arch your back deeper onto his cock.  “I dunno.” he drawls, “What do you think, sweetheart? Want me to fuck into this tight lil’ pussy? Ruin you on my cock?” 

Of course, the only response he gets is a low, wet moan. Luckily, both men understand it as a loud, resounding “yes”. 

“Awww, look at her- hah- Cock-drunk little slut can’t even speak.” It’s the last thing that spills out of Satoru’s mouth before he’s pushing past that tight ring of resistance. No care or concern for your poor pussy because shit his thoughts were too mangled with how heavenly you felt around him. 

“You got this, pretty.” he whispers, fucking into you in small, shallow little thrusts just to fit himself inside you. “Take me all like the good girl you are.”

And oh were you such a good girl for him - Satoru thinks he could almost cum on the spot as he finally bottoms out. Sucking up his cock so fucking sinfully as his heavy balls smacking your ass, already so wet with your slick and his precum. 

“There ya are.” Toji hums, the image of you choking on his cock while you struggle to take Satoru’s making his head absolutely spin. He can’t stop himself from leaning down and kissing hotly down your spine, making you buck and gag deeper around his dick. In the haze of it all, he catches Satoru’s amused gaze. Spitting out, “What?”

“Softie.”

“Oh, shut up. You can’t even handle her pussy.”

And Satoru took that personally, because he’s reeling his hips back, back, back - all the way till his angry, weeping tip just kissed you sloppy holes. “M’gonna show you, softie.” Body moving before his mind, he starts fucking into your pretty cunt recklessly. Hands groping all over your body possessively, hips moving in rough, harsh thrusts fueled by pure need and the urge to ruin you. Over and over-

Toji only smiles at the little show, your garbled whines every time Satoru hits your poor cervix going straight to his cock - quite literally. And if he angled his head just right, he could see the way your cute cunt was stretching obscenely. Barely-lucidly, he wonders whether your throat would bulge around his just as much. 

He taps your cheek, signaling you to blink those pretty eyes so tearily up at him. Balls squeezing painfully, he really can’t help but pump his cock into you faster, matching Satoru’s merciless cadence - ruining you from both sloppy holes. “Sorry, doll. Gotta big ego, so we can’t be outdone, now, can we?”

And then it’s like something snaps because suddenly every movement becomes sloppier, more erratic. Toji’s got a hand around your throat, feeling each thrust as he ruins your gorgeous face. Abs flexing each time he drags your lips on his cock up and down up and down up and- like some toy.

Satoru wasn’t any nicer either - becoming so fucking messy as he fucks you from behind like he was claiming his win. Faster, sloppier. 

Biting his lip at the way your ass jiggles each time his hips snap into yours. Pulling you back by the hair to bounce you like some little slut from both ends. And, maybe if you were in any better state of mind you’d have said something about the way they were using you like their favorite fucktoy - but right now you were so close. Dangerously close. It was too much. 

And they probably feel it because suddenly Toji’s leaning down, murmuring hotly against your ear, “S- fuck. Ngh- Close?”

“Fuck, I can feel it too.” Satoru voices from behind, so hoarse with desire, “Suckin’ me up so hah- t-tight it’s almost hard to fuck her.” It’s his cue to reach down deftly and start toying with your ravaged clit, still so sensitive and sore from before. Drawing erratic little circles on it, pinching with his fingers. 

You’re letting out throaty, muffled moans of their names, making Toji’s hips stutter. Holding you still as his aching balls smack your ass. “Hngh- shit. Keep doin’ that, brat, this one here loves it.” 

“What did I tell ya? S’like this pussy’s made f’me.”

And if they couldn’t feel it then they certainly could see it. They could see the way you were getting messier, pussy dripping all over the carseat now. Mascara running down your face, saliva and precum trailing down your chin. Honestly, it was fucking hard to look at you without cumming right there, too. Because you looked completely and utterly fucked out. So close that it was almost painful. 

Maybe that’s why both men speed up their pace impossibly, no reason or rhyme. You feel a wolfish bite on your exposed neck - Satoru - fingers frenzied on your clit, thrusts stemming from such a carnal, depraved part of him. Falling out of sync with Toji as they get so sloppy with the goal to get you off - and get you off so hard that you can’t think about anything but them, them, them-

“Cum, doll.”

This orgasm is more obscene than the last. Far more. Because you honestly don’t even realize you’re cumming, not until you’re seeing stars behind your eyes and feeling Satoru and Toji slamming harshly into you. Once. Twice. Before spilling into you in unison. 

And it’s so much that you don’t even know if you can take it. 

Toji’s salty on your tongue, pumping thick, hot ropes of tongue into your mouth. Pulling out purposefully like the smug bastard he is to see his seed all messy and dribbling down your face. While Satoru’s much the opposite, keeping his twitching cock stuffed into your tight pussy while he paints your walls white. Not letting you waste a single drop.

But oh he didn’t mind when you finally pull yourself off of Toji’s dick. Cum smearing so sloppily all over your face, and shit he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked prettier. 

And Satoru really doesn’t mind when you look back and pull him into a kiss - Toji, too. If you can even call it that, a messy clash of teeth and tongue and cum. So much of it. Swirling and sucking on your tongue, bumping into each other. Just pure fucking filth. 

It gets Satoru’s dick so hard and throbbing all over again at how obscene it all was. Some weird little part of him is almost disappointed as Toji breaks the kiss - but not for long. Because his superior shifts, splaying himself out beneath you, while he pulls your limp body on top. 

Ah. Great minds really do think alike, he thinks as Toji drags his tip lazily all over your cunt. Pooling your juices on his fat head, grazing your poor, abused clit to where your sloppy pussy was quivering and still stuffed full of Satoru’s cock. Well, not like you didn’t have room for one more. Right?

It’s all you can do to babble deliriously, “W-wha-”

“Shhh, doll. We’ll take care of it.”

“After all, sweetheart, you did say you’d be our good girl…”

A/N. This got taken down the first time I posted it LMAO. 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[tojirights]

fem!reader with a size kink and alastor just teases her about it. It starts off innocently before angel dust just teases and teases her about it until alastor decides to have fun with it.

a/n: this is prolly very ooc alastor but uhhhh this is fun sooo 🩷

word count: too many i don't even know

tags: 18+ smut nsfw, alastor has a big dick, unprotected sex, alastor cums a lot, slight cervix fucking (?), teasing

alastor first notices your inclination for pointing out he's much larger than you when you're always grabbing his hand. he easily covers your hand with his and it gives you butterflies every time. you think he doesn't notice your flushed cheeks, but alastor keeps a close eye on your emotions. he likes to make little snide comments but other than that, it's mostly harmless.

it evolves into him coming up behind you and resting his arms on the top of your head with ease, barely even straightening his back to do so. "hey!" you whine, crossing your arms over your chest. "im not an arm rest, y’know?" alastor just laughs, tugging gently on your hair to pull your head back. your eyes meet his, and your body tenses. the look he gives you is intoxicating, the way he easily peers over you makes you want to shrink into him and let him envelop you.

"yer not?" angel chirps in, breaking you from your daydream. "coulda fooled me. thought you were a coat rack, especially the way you hang onto mr tall dark 'n handsome over there like ya life depends on it." you gasp at his words, immediately trying to put distance between you and alastor but his arm hooks around your waist. "h-hey this isn't fair..." you huff, but alastor's chest is warm against your back and it's making your head fuzzy. "you like 'em big, dont'cha sweetie?" angel snickers, enjoying the way your cheeks go bright red.

all you can do is wiggle around in alastor's grasp until he lets you flip around and face him. you waste no time in burying your face in his chest, hiding the pure embarrassment written all over it. "oh come now angel, the poor girl can only take so much." he laughs when you put your fist to his chest. "i bet she can take more than you think..... alright i'm done i swear!" angel leaves the room cackling, too proud of himself. "alastor... please..." you sigh, your face still pressed against his chest.

he lets out a soft chuckle before petting your head. "just a little friendly teasing, hm?" he steps away to give you some much needed air. "i wouldn't want to break you, my dear." alastor all but pouts, making you audibly groan. you can't take it anymore, the desire burning a hole straight through you. you grab his hand and drag him from the hotel lobby into your own room of the hotel.

closing the door to your room, you're about to speak when alastor surprises you by pinning you to the door. "you want to be broken, hm?" his voice, shrouded in static makes your skin crawl and your heart rate pick up. "i-i..." all of your confidence from earlier fades from your grasp as alastor towers over you, deep red eyes seeing straight through you. "your words, darling. tell me that you just can't wait for me to take you, to push your limits."

his breath is hot on your ear, threatening to burn you. "w-what if i can't take it?" you whisper, words shaking just as much as your body with how much adrenaline is being pumped through you. alastor's mouth finds your neck as sharp teeth gently nip at your skin. "i think that's what you're hoping for, my dear." his words end in a sharp hiss, his hips pressing you into the door. and then you finally feel it, alastor's hard cock against your body.

oh fuck.

"this is long overdue, please forgive me if my patience seems short." he mutters into your skin, barely containing himself from biting your soft flesh. with ease, alastor lifts you off the floor and begins carrying you to the bed. the effortlessness sends an ache straight to your core. laying you down, you look up at him with wide eyes. it's such a head rush, you almost don't notice how he lifts your ass up just enough to remove your shorts and panties.

your breath hitches at the realization that you're mostly bare and yet he's fully clothed. "can i..." you swallow hard, hands trailing down his body. "i-i wanna touch it... wanna hold it." alastor bites back a groan, not sure he's ever heard you say something sexier. its a frenzy to remove the remaining clothing, neither of you wanting to waste any more time.

you're practically drooling by the time alastor's cock is freed, knowing damn well that this wasn’t fitting. the head of his cock alone would probably stretch you to your limit. straddling his hips, you finally wrap your fingers around his aching cock and moan aloud. "jesus christ al..." you breathe, eyes wide while you slide your hand up and down slowly, like you're engraving it to memory. alastor's body shudders, seeing just how small your hand looks wrapped around him. flicking your thumb over his leaky slit, you smear precum down his length.

"you can play later babe, fffuck, no more though." the gravelly sound you're used to hearing in his voice seems to be doubled, anticipation swirling in your gut. alastor's hands reach around to cup your ass, and flips you onto your back. everything about alastor was overwhelming, his size, his attitude, his cock. your head spins as alastor presses the head of his cock to your entrance, you can already tell it's barely going to slide in even with how soaked your cunt is.

"i-i don't-" alastor shushes you, easing into you inch by inch. your thighs shake, and you're sure there's no way you'll be able to take it all. "ngh, alastor." you whine, the ever growing stretch starting to make your stomach hurt. "ah ah, you're doing so well darling. so tight." he sighs, watching his cock disappear into your sweet wet heat.

your eyes roll into the back of your head, his cock pressing snuggly against your cervix. "thats it, good girl." he almost wants to laugh as he pulls back out, seeing there's still a few couple of inches that aren't covered in your wetness. "we're going to have to work on this, aren't we?" you reach your hand down and feel where your bodies are connected and moan. "t-there's still that much?" and alastor does laugh this time. "don't you worry about that, we'll train this pussy to take every inch."

each thrust of his cock makes your stomach ache, and the feeling of being so full keeps pushing you closer to the edge. "s-soo big, 'm gonna..." you cry out as alastor's hands find your hips. he picks a brutal pace, you're not sure how you'll be able to walk tomorrow, but the stretch and burn of his cock forcing his way deeper and deeper has that coil in your stomach about to break.

and when you do cum, it's the most explosive orgasm you've ever felt. "a-alastor !" your vision goes black, and you almost miss the feeling of alastor's release. well, you would have missed it, but the sheer amount of seed he spills deep against your cervix is immediately leaking from your abused hole. it seeps down to your ass even, covering you in such a way you'll probably never forget.

breathing heavily, you lay comfortably still under him. alastor places a gentle kiss to your forehead before removing himself from the bed. "rest, darling. i will be right back." you’re half asleep by the time he comes back with a warm towel, and even more so when he pulls the blanket over you. he waits until you're sound asleep before he goes to shower off.

"well, i suppose i owe angel a thank you..." alastor hums to himself.

[ellabscrush]

— fucking you behind the screen.

thinking about getting pounded by your gamer girlfriend’s strap while unmuted..

pairings; gamer!ellie williams x reader

cw; men and minors don’t interact, making out, strap use, breeding kink, agoraphilia, r uses “daddy” to ellie once, language, dom!ellie, sub!reader.

ways you can help, boycott, do not support neil.

“jesse the fuck was that?” ellie laughs at the guy behind the mic when he missed the shot.

“dina, get him!” she shouted, “fuck yeah!”

your girlfriends excessive cursing and yelling across the room made you snap out of your phone while scrolling on tiktok, wondering if she was about to break her setup right about now.

it was mid winter and the apartment was freezing so you threw on a zip up over your top underneath, feeling the warm athmosphere disappearing from your body as you walked out your room.

“holy shit els, it’s freezing” you said shivering tensely towards the living room, but she didn’t hear you.

“took out your friend.. fucking cunt.”

not gonna lie, her little frustrated grunts and insults were very attractive, you thought. you stared at her hands switching in between buttons, her eyes glued on the screen showing her focus, manspreading enough room for you to eat her out down there.. she looked too good.

you plopped yourself on to the couch, loud enough to make her turn over, pausing her activity. she sets down her headphones and took a long look at you.

she lays back on her chair, “hey you,” she sighs.

“you almost done?” you asked, desperate for some attention.

“almost,” she replies, “this game is pissing me off anyway.”

you smiled, having a silent moment between the two of you. there was a familiar tension, but unsure wether you should go along. ellie kept scanning you up and down like she hadn’t seen you in forever, technically she hadn’t since she’d been playing all day.

“you need somethin?” you asked with confused expression.

“do i look like i need something?” she teased, licking her lips.

you shrugged, shyly looking down as you we’re hiding the redness forming in your face. you couldn’t act normal around her when she looked this good, i mean she always looks good. you soon got up from the couch, walking towards your girlfriend, giving her a long wet kiss.

“you should take this off” she insisted while tugging at your zipper, her tone switching making you go insane.

ellie, being her clumsy self, didn’t mute.

“get a room!” jesse and dina yells from the speaker, unaware the two could listen to you both smothering eachother.

“shut up,” she pulls down the mic, “i’ll get on soon.”

you burried yourself in the crook of her neck from embarrassment and laughed. she pulled you in for a deeper kiss, pulling up your one thigh and the other on to her lap.

“can we make this quick?” ellie asks making you confused, “take this shit off,” she demanded quietly, making sure her friends doesn’t hear.

“just mute it ellie,” you giggled in between the kisses.

she lets out another smirk, this time having an idea behind it.

she whispers in your ear that made you shiver a bit hearing her talk in such a dirty way as she fills you in on her plan. contemplating her genius yet scary idea, you couldn’t help but feel the adrenaline rushing up on you. it turned you on and so you agreed.

“suck.”

ellie puts her middle and ring finger in your wet mouth, prepping it with your saliva before it goes in you. she turns her chair towards her pc, leaving a bit of room for you.

“stream your screen,” she speaks into the mic, “i’ll just watch you both from here.”

a few minutes later, her strap was going in and out behind you, making you cry just trying to keep your moans in. back arched and both hands on the rim of the table infront of you as ellie make your stomach turn.

“shh, can’t let them hear you now.”

“mmph.. so deep..” you whimpered.

at this point you were barely clothed, nipples poking through the see through, thin fabric of your bra. ellie gropping your perky tits as hard as she wanted, you were hers. she could do whatever she wanted.

her hips moving faster and faster, holding yourself up with just two grips on her white desk. her praises for keeping quiet were not helping, it made you even louder.

“you look so slutty right now,” she basically drooled, “asking to get fucked under that jacket?”

“y-yes” you say quietly, “fuck daddy.”

the name made ellie flustered. her hand grabbing your jaw while your mouth was hanging open dry, she stared at the long silicone disappearing inside of you.

“ellie- i cant-“ you squeeled as you tried reaching her arms, begging for some gentleness.

“yes you can,” she whispers in your ear, “be a good girl and let me fuck you in secret, okay?”

you didn’t say anything, you couldn’t, so you just nodded. ellie kissed down your neck to your shoulder as a reward for listening, being a good girl just for her.

“gonna fuckin’ breed you..” ellie muttered in your ear, “being s-such a good mama for me.”

it started getting rough, more than before. the image in your head of what you two looked like right now, or even getting caught by her friends made you more horny. your body started shuttering and the familiar feeling of pleasure in your thighs took over.

“please baby..” you moaned trying to keep your composure.

“faster?” she asked knowing the answer, “yeah i know you want it faster, love.”

your girlfriend started pounding you like crazy while firmly gripping your swollen ass.

“perfect fucking ass sucking it in.. godd.”

the little action figures on the desk falling, table hitting the wall, making you realize how loud you two were being.

“mm ellie too much..” you whined, “please slow down!”

suddenly, she couldn’t take your begging anymore. as much as she loved hearing you, she had to shut you up. her hands quickly covered your mouth, “quit talking,” she growled.

“you have to keep it down, can you do that?” she raises her eyebrow while making eye contact with you, basically making this harder for you purposely.

“answer my fucking question. do you want me to stop?”

“no.. els no,” was all you could mumble out, “fuckk”

that last moan alerted the two on the other side of the screen, luckily ellie saved it.

“yo ellie you good?” jesse asks, “uh yeah! just bumped my knee.”

“idiot,” he laughed.

that was close. your quick taps on her hand covering your mouth lured her attention back on you, begging with teary eyes to cum. ellie was full in lust looking at you being a needy whore bent over.

she took the palm of he hand out and put her thumb in your mouth while continuing to pound you hard. your mumbled words were frustrating her, “words baby, words.”

she pushes you back towards her chest, “need your cum..” you begged looking up at her, “fuck me please.”

with that, your wishes came true as she railed you deep and faster. making you reach your climax with every thrust coming in and out of your hole.

“ellie!-“

“shut it,” she covers your mouth again aggressively, slapping your ass with one free hand. the gesture secretly making you more close to orgasming.

“that’s my slut getting fucked behind for everyone to hear.”

you couldn’t help yourself but moaned, not even caring who could hear you at this point.

“yeah?” ellie mocks, “like it that much?”

you nodded. your girlfriend feeling better right about now for letting her take it all out on you over a game.

“i’m fucking cumming.. holy shit,” you pant out of breath, feeling the turns in your stomach and liquid dripping down your thighs.

“i’m gonna cum in you, baby” ellie groaned, “make you.. all mine.”

“yes cum in me oh my god!”

she grabs your shoulders, “take my fucking dick.. f-fuck.”

ellie swore she could feel you, seeing the white ring forming on the strap made her smile just knowing no one else could fuck you this good.

“i love breeding you baby.. fill you up with that warm.. sticky cum, yeah?” ellie continues to please you as you ride out her strap, “goodd girl.. it’s okay mama.”

“els i’m shaking,” you whined, “no more..”

“you did good baby.”

don’t worry, she was actually muted this time.

[sh1-n0bu]

♡︎ 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 ♡︎

characters: AFAB!sub!jing yuan, dan heng, blade x gn!dom!reader

warnings: AFAB characters, overstimulation, headcannon+small drabble format, praise, degrading, cock/strap traditions, dacryphilia, usage of bullet vibrator, slight brat taming, nipple stimulation, fingering, oral, cervix fucking, begging, squirting, clit pinching, cock/strap warming, size kink, belly bulge, breeding, creampie, mating press, full nelson, just a personal headcannon of how i think they would act when overstimulated

notes: someone wrote “nobody writes ahegao quite like nobu does” in one of their repost tags and im fucking shitting tears😭😭

the giggler

jing yuan loves to be overstimulated. he loves the feeling of it, the adrenaline rush, the high, the feeling of finally cumming all over your fingers, tongue, strap whatever it may be and the feeling of you continuing to move, drawing out his orgasm while also driving him into an overstimulated mess

has the cutest giggles and laughs when he gets too much pleasure. he doesn’t even try to hide or won’t even try to hide it. why would he when you were making him feel so good over and over again? hell, he even wants other people to hear it, to remind them that you were his lover and only his. and how only he gets to feel the overwhelming amount of pleasure only you can bring to him and no one else

but, it comes with a catch. he needs a lot of foreplay and/or teasing and/or orgasm denial for him to finally cave in and shake his head before starting to blabber incoherent shit about how good your cock feels inside his gushing pussy, how he could feel your tip fucking his cervix, how he wanted you to fuck a baby inside him etc etc

and i mean a LOT of it

as a centuries old war hardened general, it’s safe to say that he had gotten used to some feelings and emotions. pleasure being one of them

so if you want to get him to break and to become absolutely dumb and drunk on lust and pleasure, you have to tease him a lots before getting into it. if not, he will somehow find a way to outsmart you and take the reigns. he’s a bit of a brat and a spoiled prince wrapped up into one after all

will tell you what to do and how to do it if you have failed in getting him needy in your foreplay. he will fist your hair and thrust his hips into your mouth, making you unable to breath for a moment or two with his clit right at your nose. will push you down and flip your positions so he could ride your face, all the while chuckling at your cute attempt to push him back down. a goddamn brat and he will show it to the fullest when you fail at your foreplay

did i mention he was a brat? well now i have. a fucking brat to the max and he isn’t ashamed of it. will definitely question your power in the bedroom, try to overpower you and he will. he literally swings a 7000kg glaive in one hand like its nothing and he will show it by throwing you around. gently and consensually of course, he wouldn’t want to hurt his beloved

but fully expect him to be cocky and devious. “can you say no to my pretty pussy?”, “so sleepy. oh sorry, i didn’t know your cock was inside me hehe”, “was that all?” you get the gist. will shamelessly yawn in the middle of fucking not because he is sleepy or tired, but simply because he is a brat. a goddamn brat

so, how can you get him to be needy and won’t make him go into his bratty side? simple. shove a long distance controlled vibrator inside his cunt and leave it there for the whole day for him to suffer at work. but if you’re going to do that, be sure to mute the ringtone for your phone for the day since he will call you, send you messages, pictures, videos every damn hour. the closer his hour for shift ending comes, the more frequent the buzzing of your phone will become because he will grow much more needier

when finally he’s back home and frantically pawing at your pants when barely through the doors, that’s when you know he had absolutely no intention of being a brat. how can he when his whole pants were slowly getting stained from his multiple orgasms?

when he’s gladly bending himself over, arching his back for you as he wiggles his hips, he will ask you to come inside. jing yuan is great with kids and such a huge family man, he will ask you over and over repeatedly to breed him. cum inside him, fill up his cute dripping cunt, put him in whatever position you want and make sure to breed his pretty cunt, you can finally raise your own family together!

remember the long distance controlled vibrator i mentioned? make sure to keep it on and buzzing inside his cunt at all times when he’s away at work, or else it won’t work. during meetings or report hearings, jing yuan had to leave to the bathroom a lot of times and it genuinely got his subordinates concerned for his health. the red face, the heavy breathing and sometimes, the jolts of his body or the bleeding bruised lips of his made the cloud knights worry and some even suggested for him to leave the seat of divine foresight early to look after his health. if only they knew just how their dearest general was pathetically biting on his hand to muffle his screams in the bathroom as he squirted all over himself

“[naaammeee], ‘m mmgh♡︎! aaaaangh haah mngck♡︎♡︎ i-i’m home!” jing yuan’s voice called out, weak mewls of pleasure slipping through as he collapsed onto the floor the moment the doors of your shared home was closed. desperately humping the floor, trying to push the vibrator deeper into his gushing pussy, your lover didn’t realize that you were leaning against the wall of the kitchen, watching him with a knowing smile. there was a wet patch growing in his usual red pants, growing more and more the further he humped the air in desperation. see? your tough brat was so easy to tame.

“you feeling okay, darling?” you call out, taking out the controlled from your pants pocket and messing with the switch. flipping it up, down, up to the highest level, before going to the lowest level. it was cute to see the ever so tough brat turn into a delirious mess from just a single small toy. all because he was being so stubborn about how you weren’t the boss of him. walking over to where he was kneeling on the floor, you reach your free hand out. tilting his head up, a thumb swiping away at the drool that was beginning to pool on his lower lip, you tilt your head to the side, asking the question again with a firm hold onto his chin.

“n-no…! no no no, not at aamgh♡︎♡︎ h-hhaaaggm not at all♡︎!” he shakes his head viciously, dragging out his words and tripping over them with moans and mewls falling in between. pathetically, he tugs on the hem of your pants, trying to get to his favorite treat, the one thing he’s been missing this whole day.

“n-need you… need you right now, need your—♡︎♡︎! need yo-our..! c-cock right now...♡︎!” jing yuan mutters between whimpers, finally, his shaky hands manage to pull down your pants and undergarments just enough to have your strap out. a needy whine falling as he places slobbering wet kisses on the tip, giving it a few licks as he flutters his lashes at you in an effort to manipulate you to give him what he was non-verbally asking.

knowing full well that he wouldn’t take no for an answer and that yanqing might come home soon, you drag him up to his feet — an action that was heavily protested against as jing yuan cries out after his favorite treat being taken away. once inside the comfort of your shared bedroom, by the time you have locked the door behind you, he was already naked. clothes messily strewn on the floor and on the bed, the many orgasm’s slick dripping down his puffy cunt to his ass and to the bedsheets eventually. you could see the light trembling of his pussy lips, an action caused by the vibrator fucking away inside him still.

turning the vibrator off, you take the toy out of his puffy cunt. jing yuan let out a drawn out mewl at the feeling, clenching around nothing as he tries to replace the empty feeling for something, anything. but seeing you starting to strip, he knew what he wanted. and he knew how he wanted it.

spreading his legs open further, his hand comes down, flicking at his enlarged clit with a jolt before spreading open his labia for you to take in how he was already so needily wet and dripping for you. a drunk giggle escaping him when the tip of your cock is right against his folds, wiggling his hips enticingly.

“[nnaameeee]~ you gotta fuck a baby in me this time, owhkayyy?♡︎♡︎ hehehe♥︎”

the crybaby

the cutest out of all three of them, in my personal opinion

he just gets overstimmed so easily and quickly, it’s adorable in the way that he brokenly begs for a moment of respite. legs shaking, smaller body jolting violently at the smallest of touches like your hand ghosting over his hardened nipples. don’t even get me started on the way he cutely squeals out loud when you pinch his clit augh

maybe it’s due to his nature as a vidyadhara and not a full human but every little touch is received with so much sensitivity and sensuality, it gets so easy to turn him into a blabbering mess in record time. push his smaller body against the wall and finger his gushing pussy while rolling your thumb over his clit. in no time, his legs are shaking as he bites your hand, his orgasm washing over him quickly and violently. but don’t just stop there, keep flicking at his clit, pinch it, tug on it, push a hand on the small bulge on his belly and he’ll be left sobbing by the second or third round

he’s noticeably smaller than the other two and it carries out into his size kink so well. he just wants to be pushed around and put into impossible, near painful positions and man-handled until he’s left a blabbering idiot

make him cockwarm you while asking him to read you a story or a book under the guise that you had a nightmare and can’t fall asleep without his soothing voice and soft cunny wrapped around your cock. at first he’ll huff and puff, saying that you’re a liar and just wants to fuck him. four or five pages in and his voice is already strained, whines coming out as hiccups and sniffles follow soon after

but just because he’s a crybaby doesn’t mean he’s an idiot. he knows how much you love his pretty steel grey eyes unfocused and hazy, brimming with tears and he will use that to his advantage. will make sure to play with his nipples or push down on the bulge in his tummy when cockwarming you so he could get teary eyed quicker. the moment he sniffles and grinds himself down on you, he knows you’re a goner and would give him what he wants

he may be a crybaby, but he’s also a goddamn minx so beware of that

tugs on your sleeve so cutely, looking at you with a flushed face and stuttered words to ask you if you wanna spend time with him in his room. today’s trailblazing expedition was too long and tiring after all, “surely you would enjoy some cuddles…?” or “i just wanted to help you patch up your wounds. i was just worried”

yeah sure, dan heng. just say that you wanna get fucked until you’re squealing out like a slut with fat tears running down your cute red cheeks. thank the aeons the express’ walls are thick and soundproof. if not, who knows the amount of noise complaint you would have gotten from everyone

has slight oral fixation. slightly. but that’s only because he wants to see you crumble and give into his non-verbal demands and just ruin him. he’s a bit too shy to ask directly after all

long serpentine tongue wrapping around your strap, pulling it into his mouth. will gag and choke so loudly with the tip of the fat dildo pushed right down his throat, hitting his uvula and choking his throat. he can complain about sore throats and pained jaws all he wants but you both know that he loves to suckle on your strap with tears filling his eyes

the most messiest cock sucker and that’s saying something bc blade is the one who has the biggest oral fixation out of the three of them. he’ll place wet kisses to the weeping tip of your cock, running the slitted snake like tongue over the weeping slit of your cock teasingly before wrapping it around your dick. loves the scent and the taste of your pre, basically addicted to it as he opens his mouth wider, slipping your cock inside the warm cavern of his mouth inch by inch

but be aware that he will also try to take advantage of this position. he will try to bat his lashes at you so he can continue suckling on your strap like he would be sucking on a lolipop, all under the guise to ‘make you happy’. when in reality, he would try to make you cum over and over to try and get you overstimulated. when in such position, just fist his hair and fuck his throat. gets him crying in no time like the crybaby he is

“… bamboo whispers in the w-wind, a secret pa-aaangh! aah aaah hmgk♡︎ a s-secret pa-act... ♡︎!“ the soothing voice of your lover drawls out into a weak sniffle, hands gripping the book filled with love poetry from his home planet tightly. so tight, you feared that he might just tear the book apart with his claws. you had crawled into his bed yet again to torment him today, the dildo hitting all the sensitive spots in his gushing cunt, dan heng couldn’t help but weakly whine when your hands around his waist tightens to not let him move.

“go on. i’m listening” you coo out, forcing him to stay still on your lap while his voice continue to drawl out. sniffles and broken pleads replacing his ever so stoic mask, a voice that is usually so cold and distant, always scolding other turning into one of mindless blabber about how badly he wanted your strap to fuck his pussy. you couldn’t help but laugh.

“is that what it says on the pages? i may be still learning the strokes but the next line seems to be the stroke for two” you point at the kanji on the book he was holding in his shaking hands, the strokes of the language seeming familiar to you. it was an easy kanji to read after all. yet not to your boyfriend it seems.

“please! p-please please move! i beg you, [n-naamee]♡︎ you gotta fuck meeh♡︎ you gotta fuck me you gotta fuck me— you have to fuck meeegck—♡︎♡︎!!” dan heng squeals, shaking thighs bucking down onto your dick, trying to gain some friction. it was enough, he had read you hundreds of love poetries from his home planet. he had been taking your pronged torture for long enough, please just fuck his cunt already!

“so impatient” you huff, putting the book away with a book marker tucked between the pages before hooking your hands under his knees. pulling him up and over until dan heng was left wailing at the sudden change in position. hooking your arms under his knees, his legs are left dangling in the air with nothing to support himself but for his hands to cling to your biceps. even then, he couldn’t hold for long as he jolts about in your arms like a hopping bunny, painting your dildo in his cum when the tip kissed his cervix.

“guuchk♥︎!! d-deep! aah ah naahmg haah t-too deep♡︎♡︎ [n-name] you’re f-fucckk fuck fuck—♡︎♥︎ fucking my cerviinxx my ceerrvv—♡︎♡︎ mngh unngya♥︎!” punched out sobs comes from his pretty lips, drawling out into whiny cries when you move him up and down. you could see the bulge in his tummy appear and disappear every little moment. every jolt, every gasp, every little whiny cry making the bulge in his tummy to get more detailed. he was so adorably small.

“‘m sorry, darling. i’m sorry, didn’t mean it. didn’t mean to fuck you this deep” you coo out apologies, lifting him just a bit so your strap won’t sink so deep to the point it would kiss his cervix. as much as you loved your crybaby gasping and writhing, you didn’t want the reason for such reaction to be pain.

claws scratching at every inch of skin he could touch, jaw slack open in a silent scream, you could barely make out his shrill yell of what appears to be your name when dan heng squirts over your cock after just a few thrusts. you could see the overflowing amount of cum just dripping down your cock, trailing down to your legs and staining the mattress. with a click of your tongue, you pinched his clit, making the shorter man sniffle with a squeal.

“‘m soowryyy… sorry sorry—♡︎ d-didn’t mean to be bad... s-soowwh uunhg hyaagk ungc gugcck—♥︎♥︎!!”

the hissy bitch

alright, so i know i’m going into territory that has been charted way too many times before by blade lovers standard but he def has piercings. on his nipples, tongue and on his clit. probably got the first three by losing a drunk bet or something or maybe he just wanted it but the last one, the clit one, is definitely his latest piercing. one that he got after his relationship with you began and he had made the sudden rash decision to get one so he could see your reaction and to feel you just messing with it while fucking him

there is a REASON why he always keeps his chest bandaged up. there is a goddamn reason and that reason is his nipple piercings and the fact that his chest is generally very sensitive im being delusional

so what does that bring and why have i specified it? simple. titty fucking. nipple stimulation. seeing his pretty big, round chest jiggle every time your cock sinks back into his dripping cunt. pinch it, roll it, tug on them, suckle on them, do anything to him with his nipple piercing and he’s scratching at your back, mauling it like an animal

the reason i see him as a hissy bitch is because he likes to throw small temper tantrums when he gets too overstimulated. he’s crying, begging, hitting your shoulders, back, scratching at them and leaving deep red scratch marks, perhaps even breaking the skin sometimes. how come blade get overstimulated quickly? because he is very touch deprived. he’s been alone and immortal for too damn long and his ass is fucking touch starved. i just know it in my bones

genuinely, he is indeed very touch starved. since his rebirth as an immortal, he had felt nothing but pain, anguish and suffering and therefore, has basically gotten immune to touches. especially the violent and bloody ones. but gentle, tender, affectionate ones? find him jumping away from your soft hands like a frightened cat, it’s goddamn heartbreaking. so when he finally gets his cunt fucked, blade would be overstimmed too fast due to receiving a sudden abundance of affection and touches

will shake his head ‘no’ when asked if you would wanna stop due to his tears. you were just concerned but blade didn’t wanted this onslaught of pleasure to stop. desperately rides your fingers, mouth, strap — anything. loves the feeling of being on top of you, gives him the slight feeling of being in control. until it all gets thrown out the window when you force him to stop bouncing, hands gripping his hips tightly as a warning. will whine and try to grind down, trying to chase that high again but will only end up with a pout and hissy tears falling down his cheeks

another one who loves the feeling of being stuffed full and overstimulated. it’s almost like he gets high from the feeling. loves having his pussy fucked in any way you please until he can’t stay on his hands or feet without shaking. it’s just so cute to see him shaking like a fawn when fucking him doggy style

prepare to have yourself used as a chew toy as well as a scratcher. blade’s almost like a cat, hissy and whiny but also so greedy and preferring certain things in certain manner. will bite at your shoulders, hands, fingers to muffle himself but also to try and get his shit together. will scratch at your back, thighs, wherever he could reach. such a spoiled brat

when eating him out, be sure to give an extra care and love to his clit piercing. constantly flicking it with your tongue would usually work though, gets his legs all shaky and jolty soon enough. maybe pair it with flicking his pierced nubs and bladie will be squirting into your mouth with an embarrassing high pitched shriek. make sure to clean up all of his mess before diving right back into his gushing cunny. he may not say it but he will expect you to go back to eating him out like he’s your last meal

has the BIGGEST oral fixation out of the three of them. like, down bad, delicious, scrumptious, sloppy oral fixation. and he is happy to give it 90% of the times due to his tongue piercing. knows how good it makes you feel and how you like to see his pretty face between your legs, sucking on the large dildo like his life depends on it. not a single thought or a single moment of choking from him, it’s almost like he doesn’t have a gag reflex

you just came back from mission, from being away from him even for a single day? unacceptable. let him bend over for you, you can get your stress out by fucking his already dripping wet pussy. too tired? that’s fine. take of your pants and get comfortable cuz’ he can stay between your legs for days

not a single minute of respite has greeted you ever since you came back from your latest mission, stepping foot into your shared home with your stoic lover. perhaps the single gentle kiss to your cheek before he started to leave slobbering wet kisses on your lips was the only warning and moment of rest you have gotten. not even shoes off yet and blade was already unbuckling your belt, giving you the puppy eyes and grumbling about how you’ve been away for too damn long. whining about how much he missed you and needed your strap to fuck him dumb. how his pretty pussy had missed you so much.

“n-nnghyaa♡︎♡︎ m-missed you... missed you s’ much, [name]! f-fuck me fuck me fuck me, fuck your favorite cunt gyyuck—♥︎♥︎ a-aaanh! haah ah ah mmngk—♡︎♥︎!!” unusually docile red eyes roll to the back of his skull, jaw going slack wide open as you push his legs up, feeling your strap hit him deeper than he thought was possible. he could feel your weight push him down, keeping it still on the bed and to stop him from wiggling his hips entirely. this new position caused his cat like pupils to widen, turning into heart shapes as you chuckle at the dazed look in his eyes.

“such a needy brat” you coo out in a condescending manner, pushing his legs up in the air with your hands hooked under his knees to keep him in place. pulling out until halfway out, you sink back into blade’s dripping cunt. a squeal tearing from his throat alongside the filthy wet squelch of his cunt tightening around your dildo. it was so easy to get him dumb.

“t-too nngh much! too muchtoomuchtoomuch♡︎! fucking m-my womb—♡︎ [n-name], y-youuwrr crush— crushing my wombgg aangh ah ah! gyyuck eengh aaangh nyaagh♥︎♥︎!!” the familiar feeling of his nails scratching at your arms takes place, tearing at the skin, clawing at any part of your body he can come in contact with. a desperate attempt to ground his already long gone mind, too deep into the throes of pleasure that he didn’t even realize his shaking hands were weakly pulling your hips to fuck deeper into his warm walls.

“don’t be so dramatic, bladie. i won’t be able to crush your womb in this position” you coo out mockingly, wiping away the fat globs of tears that continue to pour of his eyes. red and yellow eyes rolled to the back of his skull, wide open mouth letting out the most salacious squeals and shrieks of your name and how you were fucking his womb falling out. legs weakly dangling in the air, jolting and bristling at every deep thrust you fuck into his velvety walls. the lewd wet squelching noises were alongside your grunts and blade’s whiny sobs were the only noise in the room. you would probably get noise complaints the next morning due to blade’s loudmouthed blabbering self.

letting go of one of his legs, you shove your fingers into his mouth. almost as if it was an instinct, blade’s tongue wet your fingers. suckling on the two digits as it his life depended on it with the most cutest heart shaped pupils staring at you. once you deemed them wet enough, you take your fingers out of his mouth. an action that blade showed his hatred towards as his pierced tongue comes past his lips, trying to chase after your fingers.

“gghcck—♡︎♥︎♥︎♥︎!!” a sharp wail taking place as blade arches his back, his whole body shaking, soft big tits jiggling when you pinched at his pierced clit. rolling, tugging, flicking at the hardened nub as blade sobs about cumming before drenching your cock with his squirting. you had thought of him to be satisfied with it, but turns out you have underestimated your lover’s neediness when his strong scarred thighs comes to wrap around your waist, legs locked behind your back when you tried to pull out.

sigh… it’s times like this that makes you glad for your amount of stamina.

[illusioninfnty]

day 4 ; cockwarming

↠ "red haired" shanks x reader

fandom: one piece word count: 1k warnings: nsfw 18+, public sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, creampie

kinktober m.list || read on ao3

“Another round on me, little lady!”

Pirates swarm Partys Bar as you scramble to serve everyone at once. Makino occasionally requested your help whenever she knew it would get busy, and each time you happily obliged. However, the pirate crew was rowdier than usual today, and it seemed as though you couldn’t catch a break.

“I’ll be right with you!” You call out to the pirate as you rush to sweep up some broken glass that was dropped by one of the piss-ass drunk crew members. 

As you pass by, you feel a calloused hand skim the back of your ass. You don’t even have to look behind you to know exactly who it belongs to—Shanks.

You and Shanks have done some things in the past, mostly involving him dragging you away to fuck you when he was pumped up on adrenaline from his time at sea.

You ignore his advances this time, too focused on trying to cater to all of his crew. But the second time you’re forced to pass him, serving more rounds of whiskey to his men, he wraps an arm around the back of your thighs and pulls you towards him.

“Shanks!” You gasp. He paws at your ass from his seat on the stool, kneading the soft flesh as laughs at your surprised expression. “I’m supposed to be working!”

He rolls his eyes. “Makino doesn’t even pay you. Take a break with me.”

You finally comply, silently agreeing that you were working way harder than you wanted to be. Makino was busy with patrons at the other side of the bar, and most of the pirates that you were catering to were either passed out or too drunk to comprehend anything.

Shanks settles you into his lap as he brings his lips to yours. He cups your face with hand as you wrap your arms around his neck, leaning into him. His warmth envelopes you as you play with the ends of his hair while he caresses your backside.

“I want to try something,” Shanks mumbles into your neck as you pull away for some air.

You hum, encouraging him to continue.

“Let me put my cock in you.”

You freeze. Out of all the things he could have said, that was the last thing on your mind.

“Shanks, we’re in public! In—in front of your crew!” You whisper through clenched teeth and look around frantically, hoping no one heard him.

He sighs, a crease forming between his brow. “Not like that. I’m not going to fuck you now. Just…let it rest in there.” He starts to trail kisses down your neck. “It’ll feel good for both of us.”

“But what if they see?” you ask shakily, your hands grasping onto his broad shoulders for support.

Shanks grabs your chin and turns your head to face him. “C’mon, babe. Everyone’s already slurring their speech. They won’t be able to remember anything come tomorrow morning. And if they do, then they just know you belong to me.”

You bite your lip, chewing on it as you get lost in thought. His words had a wave of heat surging through your body, but you still had to think rationally about what you were about to do. It was risky, but it may just be worth it.

“Alright,” you confirm. Shanks grins heartily, smile lines becoming prominent around his eyes. You move your body so that it covers his front, and you start to slowly remove his cock from their breaches. Through his pants you can already feel how hard he was, pulsing through the material.

You pull your skirt up slightly and push your underwear to the side. You dip your fingers inside yourself, not surprised to feel that you were already wet. You lower yourself onto Shanks as he hisses, his cock throbbing as you slowly guide him inside of you.

Fully seated on his lap now, you adjust your skirt so that it covers where the two of you remain connected. 

“There we go,” he soothes. “Nice and full, huh?” You whine and give him a curt nod, trying to stop your body from reacting from the amount of pleasure surging through it at that moment. No one seems to notice what the two of you were doing, but it still sends a thrill down your spine.

You continue to kiss him as you clench down onto cock. He groans at the sensation, pleasing you even more. Shanks runs his hand down to your lower stomach, stroking the area.

“You feel me in there?”

His large hand continues to rub circles in the area, pressing down in spots that make you gasp. You can feel him in there—so much more than usual, now that he’s not pumping in and out. It feels more intimate with him like this, and you lean into his chest as your walls continue to tighten.

You begin to shift ever-so-slightly on top of Shanks and arch into him as he groans into your lips and stills your hips with his hand. “You’re killing me, baby.” 

You laugh, and your pussy clenches around him even more. 

“Won’t be able to last any longer,” he pants and burrows his face into your neck.

“Good,” you tease, smirking as you see his eyes heat up. His cock pulsates, and his orgasm is silent, the only indicator being the clench of his jaw and the slight quiver in his brow.

“Hey, I need some help over here!” Makino’s voice rings throughout the bar, and suddenly you’re brought back to reality, remembering just exactly where you were and what kind of situation you were in. You remove yourself from Shanks’ lap, shuddering at the sudden heat from him leaving your body.

“Coming!” You say, slapping Shanks in the leg as he snickers behind you.

You adjust your skirt, ignoring the cum that starts to leak out of you as you scurry to help Makino with the bar patrons. The whole time, you can feel Shanks’ eyes follow you.

[pucksandpower]

To the Moon and Back

Lando Norris x astronaut!Reader

Summary: not many people can say “I love you to the moon and back” literally … but you’re the exception

Based on this request

Happy Valentine’s Day, my loves 🫶

The roar of the engine echoes through the car as Lando revs the McLaren 720S Spider. You glance over at your boyfriend and can’t help but smile. His eyes are bright with excitement beneath his helmet.

“You ready for this, love?” He asks, giving your hand a quick squeeze.

You nod, adrenaline already pumping through your veins. “Let’s do it.”

As an astronaut, you’re no stranger to G-force. But taking a hot lap around the race track with Lando is a different kind of thrill. The track marshall gives a thumbs up and Lando eases the car out of the pit lane. He takes it easy for the first few turns, warming up the tires.

“How’s it feel?” He asks.

“Smooth,” you reply. “Can’t even tell we’re going 200.”

Lando grins. “Oh just wait.”

He floors it down the back straight, pinning you back against the seat as the speedometer climbs towards 320 kilometers per hour. The G-force builds as he brakes hard into the next corner, expertly controlling the slide.

You let out an exhilarated whoop. “Now that’s more like it!”

Lando chuckles. “Barely getting started, babe.”

The next few laps are a blur of adrenaline and speed. Lando dances the McLaren through the corners, braking impossibly late before powering out in a controlled slide. You relish the forces pressing you back into your seat, so similar yet so different from a rocket launch.

As you pull back into the pits, crowds of fans erupt into cheers. Lando parks the car and hops out, pausing to take off his helmet and run a hand through his curly hair before coming over to help you out.

“So, what did the astronaut think?” He asks with a playful grin.

You’re still catching your breath, heart pounding. "That was insane! What a rush."

Lando looks pleased, keeping an arm wrapped around you as you’re swarmed by fans seeking autographs and photos. Most want a moment with their favorite driver, but a few recognize you as well.

“She’s the astronaut girlfriend, right?” Someone asks.

You nod, giving a little wave. “Yep, that’s me!”

The fans seem impressed that you were able to handle Lando’s hot lap so easily.

“Wow, you took those Gs no problem!” A teenage girl remarks.

You laugh. “Well, I have some practice from launch and re-entry.”

“You must be fearless to be an astronaut,” adds an awe-struck boy.

“It’s intense for sure,” you agree. “But so rewarding.”

Lando smiles proudly, giving you an affectionate squeeze. “My girl’s a badass. Takes a lot more than some high-G corners to phase her!”

You laugh and pose for a few more photos before Lando regrettably has to head in to prep for free practice. After a quick kiss goodbye, you wander through the bustling paddock, enjoying the infectious excitement in the air on race day.

You’ve just grabbed a water bottle when you hear rapid footsteps behind you.

“Y/N, wait up!”

Turning, you see Lando’s performance coach approaching. He gives you a polite smile. “Got a minute?”

You nod. “For you, always. What’s up?”

He falls into step beside you. “I wanted to run something by you. Lando seems distracted lately during training and physio. Have you noticed anything off with him?”

You frown, thinking back over the last few weeks. Now that he mentions it, Lando has seemed a little distant at times.

“I have noticed he’s been quieter than usual,” you admit. “But I figured it was just nerves or fatigue going into the season.”

Jon nods thoughtfully. “Could be. I know he really wants to impress this year. But as his girlfriend, I thought maybe you’d have a better sense of if anything else is on his mind.”

“I’ll try to talk to him,” you promise.

“Appreciate it,” Jon says. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

You part ways and head out to the pit wall to watch the start of the race. But your mind is only partially on the action, thoughts preoccupied with concern for Lando. He’s normally so upbeat and energetic, but thinking back, you realize there has been a muted quality to him lately that is unusual. You wrack your brain trying to pinpoint if there was a specific incident that triggered this change, but come up empty.

After the podium, you pull Lando. “P3! What a freaking drive," you give him a quick kiss.

His eyes brighten momentarily. “Thanks, love. Feels good to start the season off strong.”

You study his face, wishing you could read his thoughts. “So … can we talk later? Maybe grab dinner in the city before heading back to the hotel?”

Lando shrugs. "Sure, I guess so."

You frown slightly. His response is lacking his normal enthusiasm. But the paddock is too crowded to dive deeper now. “Great, it’s a date!” You say brightly, taking his hand as you both head out to spray champagne. You’ll get to the bottom of this tonight.

After a flurry of post-race obligations, the two of you finally slip away to a quiet restaurant downtown. When the waiter steps away with your orders, you reach across the table to take Lando’s hand.

“So, what’s really going on?” You ask gently. “And don’t say nothing. Everyone can tell something’s been off lately.”

Lando sighs, avoiding your eyes. He runs his free hand through his curls. “It’s stupid, really …”

You squeeze his hand reassuringly. “If it’s bothering you this much, it’s not stupid. Talk to me, babe.”

He’s quiet for a long moment before responding softly. “I’m worried I don’t deserve you.”

You rock back slightly, caught off guard. “What? Where is this coming from?”

Lando keeps his gaze down. “It’s just … you’re this badass astronaut. You literally go to space! And I’m just a guy who drives cars in circles.”

Your heart aches for the vulnerability in his voice. You give his hand another supportive squeeze. “Lando, you’re so much more than that. Yes, I love space. But racing is your passion and you’re incredible at it. You bring joy to so many people. That matters.”

‘I know, but …” Lando trails off uncertainly.

You lean forward, gently tipping his chin up. “No buts. You deserve the world. I’m the lucky one here.”

He finally meets your eyes. “Really?” The doubt is clear on his face.

“Really,” you confirm. “I fell for you, Lando. Not your job or your fame. Your kindness, your humor, your giant heart … that’s what I love.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “When you put it like that …”

“It’s the truth,” you say firmly.

Lando lets out a long breath, his shoulders dropping as the tension eases. “I’ve been in my own head about this for weeks. Should have just talked to you sooner.”

“Well, you have me now,” you remind him. “No more keeping worries bottled up, deal?”

“Deal,” he agrees, lifting your hand to his lips for a gentle kiss. “Have I mentioned lately how amazing you are?”

You laugh. “It’s always nice to hear.” Your heart swells with happiness to see the sparkle back in his eyes.

Just then your food arrives, and Lando insists you try a bite of his pasta. The conversation flows easily again as you trade stories and banter. With the worry lifted from his shoulders, Lando’s charm and humor are on full display. By the time you meander hand in hand back to the hotel, the moon is high in the sky.

Lando pauses outside your door. “Thank you for tonight. And just … for everything. You’re my whole world.”

“I love you to the moon and back.” You gaze at him adoringly for a moment before adding, “Now, I believe a celebration is in order for that podium today …”

You open the door and pull him inside by his collar as he laughs. As you kiss him deeply, you make a silent promise to always be the safe space he can turn to when doubts creep in.

You’re the luckiest girl in the world to be loved by this incredible man. And you plan to spend every day proving he’s worthy of the same boundless love … to the moon and back.

***

You take a deep breath as you stare out the small window of the shuttle, watching the Earth get smaller and smaller as you ascend into the sky.

This is it. Your first mission to the moon.

You’ve dreamed of this moment since you were a little girl, gazing up at the glowing orb in the night sky and imagining yourself walking across its cratered surface.

As an astronaut with NASA, you’ve completed years of intense training to prepare yourself mentally and physically for the rigors of space travel. But nothing can fully ready you for the surge of emotions that hits you now as your childhood fantasy becomes reality.

Excitement.

Awe.

A twinge of nervousness.

And above all, gratitude. Gratitude for the opportunity to push the boundaries of human exploration. To boldly go where only a handful of people have gone before.

You think of Lando. How his eyes lit up when you got the call informing you that you had been selected for this mission. How he immediately started planning a big celebratory dinner, inviting all your friends and family. How he held you tight before you left for quarantine and launch preparations, whispering “I’m so proud of you” and “I love you to the moon and back.”

Your relationship with Lando has always been anchored in mutual love, trust and encouragement. As a Formula 1 driver, he understands the demands and dangers of your job, the laser focus it requires. When he races, you’re trackside or glued to the TV, cheering him on. When it’s your turn to take the spotlight, he’s equally in your corner, hyping you up and telling anyone who’ll listen that his girl is an astronaut headed to space.

You chuckle thinking back to when you first met Lando at an Engineering for the Next Generation event. Him in his McLaren gear, standing out like a beacon in bright papaya. You in your crisp blue flight suit, NASA insignia shining. Sparks didn’t just fly, they erupted into fireworks.

Fast forward five years and here you both are, thriving in your dream careers, happily together and each other’s biggest fans.

Your daydreaming is interrupted by the voice of the commander crackling over your headset. “Prepare for trans-lunar injection burn.”

It’s time.

You watch attentively as the burn commences, adjusting the shuttle’s trajectory until you’ve escaped Earth’s gravity and are hurtling towards the moon.

The next few days pass in a blur of course corrections, equipment checks, meals, sleep, and anticipation. Then finally, the moment arrives. You feel the shuttle tremble as the engines fire, slowing you down until you achieve lunar orbit insertion.

For the first time, you’re gazing upon the entirety of the moon’s pockmarked surface rather than just a slice of it in the night sky. It’s simultaneously familiar and foreign, a world both near and far.

“We are go for powered descent,” comes the voice of Mission Control. The shuttle shudders as the lander separates, ferrying you and your crewmates down to the awaiting surface. Through the window you watch the grey, dusty terrain rise up to meet you. A perfect landing kicks up plumes of powder.

You’ve arrived.

Stepping outside in your bulky space suit, you marvel at the stark beauty surrounding you. The pitch black sky, dotted more vividly with blazing stars than you could have ever imagined. The rolling plains and hills in muted grays. The unfiltered rays of the sun overhead. And above all, the profoundly silence, unlike anything you’ve experienced on noisy Earth.

You bend down and scoop up some lunar soil, letting it sift through your gloved fingers.

The next two days pass swiftly, filled with collecting samples, setting up experiments, and traversing the alien landscape. Too soon, it’s time to depart. As the shuttle lifts off in a spray of dust, you take one last look at the moon’s cratered face, etching it into your memory.

Returning to Earth, you’re met with great fanfare. Lando wraps you in an enormous bear hug, his relief and elation at having you home safe and sound is infectious. “I’ve missed you so much! Can’t wait to hear all about it,” he holds you tight and refuses to let go.

At the dinner he’s arranged, surrounded by your closest friends and family, you regale everyone with stories about your lunar experience.

Walking in spaces so silent your own heartbeat sounded thunderous. The inexplicable lightness in your limbs from the reduced gravity. Seeing Earth hover above the horizon, a blue and white marble in the void. The sense of wonder at walking upon a heavenly sphere humans have gazed upon for millennia but few have ever touched.

“I’ve always loved you to the moon and back,” you tell Lando, taking his hand. “Now I can say I’ve literally loved you to the moon and back.”

You see his eyes widen as you pull out a small pouch and tip glittering gray dust into his palm — a moon rock. “A little piece of the moon, just for you,” you close his fingers around it.

Lando is momentarily speechless, touched beyond words by your gesture. Then a grin spreads across his face. “You are simply out of this world,” he laughs. “This is going in my trophy case for sure!”

Over the next year, Lando has the moon rock fashioned into a ring, which he wears on race days for good luck. Sure enough, he scores his first ever victory that season, a thrilling achievement after years of near misses and podium finishes.

Standing on top of the podium, Lando whoops and thrusts his trophy high. Then he gazes straight into your eyes and says words meant only for you. “This one’s for the person who has always loved me to the moon and back.”

You beam with joy, pride surging through you. In that moment, all the years of supporting each other through the highs and lows to follow your passions feel profoundly worth it. Because at the end of the day, whether it’s launching into space or racing on Earth, you’re always each other’s biggest fans, connected by a love deeper than any distance — even 768,800 kilometers to the moon and back.

[ellemj]

It Was Sunday

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader: 18+, light smut

Song: never be like you (sped up) by Flume

Warnings: profanity, brief mentions of unprotected sex, brief mention of oral (female receiving), casual sex, slight brief somnophilia, kinda fluff (I know, who do I think I am), MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 855

A/N: I don't really know what this is but it was on my mind today. Super different from my usual shit. Do me a favor and don't read it without listening to this song at the same time: never be like you (sped up version) by Flume. I feel like it would fall very flat without music behind it.

            It was Monday when you wore that little black dress with the slit up your right thigh. That was the day you took down three men with ease while looking like a fucking goddess. It wasn’t just Bucky staring, it was every man on the surveillance team, every man in the club, both the guilty and the innocent bystanders. They weren’t transfixed on the violence unfolding in the center of the room, no. They were transfixed on the fatal, yet beautiful creation that was you.

          �� It was Monday night that Bucky told you how reckless you were, how close you came to taking on more than you could handle. Then, he gave you something he knew you could handle, right up against your bedroom door.

            It was Tuesday when he found you sparring with a trainer, flirting between lightly thrown punches and half-assed kicks. He focused on counting his reps with the weights rather than counting the number of times he imagined throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you upstairs to remind you who you belong to.

            It was Tuesday night when he counted the number of breathless moans and whimpers that fell from your lips every time he thrusted into you.

            It was Wednesday when you ran headfirst into danger to save someone out in the field. That was the day Bucky thought he’d lost you, and the all-consuming fear he felt seeing you disappear into that burning building made him wonder if he’d somehow fallen for you.

            It was Wednesday night when he stopped by your room to make sure you were okay and then, he scolded you for risking your life like you did. That night, he fucked you so thoroughly that you swore you could still feel him the next morning.

            It was Thursday when Bucky told himself he needed to distance from you, just in case he was really catching feelings. He didn’t see you the entire day and it left an empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was eating him alive as he sped down the interstate on his bike, trying to replace the high he gets from you with the high of an adrenaline rush.

            It was Thursday night when you knocked on his door for a change. He’d avoided you all day and you’d had enough, so you pushed your way into his room as soon as he opened the door. You didn’t question him, maybe because deep down you knew why he was avoiding you. Instead, you kissed him with so much fiery passion that you wouldn’t have been surprised to see his bedsheets go up in flames around the two of you. You put your all into riding his cock that night.

            It was Friday when Bucky went out on a solo mission, meant to be playing the part of the famed Winter Soldier. It was late that evening that he returned to the compound with more cuts and bruises than you’d ever seen on him.

            It was Friday night that you forced him to sit on the side of your bed while you cleaned him up, carefully dabbing saline-soaked gauze over each wound with the gentlest of touches. Bucky took your orders in silence, pulling his shirt off when you demanded him to, tilting his chin up so you could get a look at the abrasions on his neck. He did whatever you said because it had been so long since he’d had someone care for him like that. That night, he laid in your bed as you pressed your lips to every already-healing bruise littered across his skin.

            It was Saturday morning when you found yourself tangled up in the arms of the man you’d been casually sleeping with. That was the first day you felt butterflies dancing around in your stomach at the sensation of his warm body pressed so tightly against yours beneath the sheets.

            It was Saturday night when you tried to tell yourself that you could go one night without him. You made plans with friends, stayed out late, and had just enough alcohol to get him out of your mind for a while. When you sauntered up to your bedroom a little past tipsy, your inebriated mind decided to knock on his door instead of unlocking your own. Bucky gave you an amused smirk as he pulled you into his room and helped you change into one of his t-shirts. You slept in his bed that night, wrapped up in his arms, in his sheets, wearing his shirt.

            It was Sunday when you woke up on your back, with a skilled and familiar tongue working against your clit. As your fingers tangled in Bucky’s hair and your back arched off of his bed, he imagined how different it might feel if one of your fingers had a ring on it.

            It was Sunday when you both realized you’d fallen. You’d fallen far beyond the reach of any rescue, of any chance at getting back to where you started. Somewhere between Monday and Sunday, you fell in love with Bucky Barnes, and he with you.

TAG LIST:

@sunnyhummingbee @gyokujyn @jenniferpendragon @siciliano13 @ordelixx @crist1216 @twlkdead @claireelizabeth85 @charmedbysarge @kentokaze @nyashonality

[incognit0slut]

Pretty Boy

spencer reid x gn!reader

warnings: (MINORS DNI!) sloppy, filthy male oral a/n: this is more of a drabble (915 words) so there’s no taglist. I was going through clips trying to make an edit and this scene had me thinking, ‘I need to give this man some head.’ Thus, this is the result of my horny mind. Sorry not sorry.

HE WAS TOO PRETTY TO RESIST. With lips slightly parted, the strong lines of his features softened into a restful state as he savored the way your lips wrapped around him.

Your mouth slid down the length of his cock, tongue running along every inch, and you watched as his eyes rolled into the back of his head, soft stomach heaving with every labored breath.

"Please..." he groaned, the word strained as it left his tongue. The way he whimpered and thrust his hips into your mouth sent a rush of adrenaline through your body. You had him right where you wanted him, on the edge, desperate for release, flushed with sweat beading against his forehead.

And who were you to deny a man in need? You kept your eyes fixed on his face as your nails dug into his thighs, and pushed down even further, the tip of him finally budging into the back of your throat. You tried to swallow him whole, yet you couldn't help but gag a little, rearing back with a cough.

A string of saliva slipped out of your mouth as you looked up at him. He really was pretty. Long, dark lashes framed his eyes as he watched your every movement. A faint stubble adorned his chiseled jawline. And his lips, wide and soft, were slacked open as you leaned forward again, the same time his fingers found their way into your hair, grabbing a fistful of it as your tongue licked the underside of his cock.

You started with just a few gentle, teasing licks to the tip, one right over his slit, and you felt his hips buck underneath you. You wrapped your fingers around him as you slowly took the head in your mouth, sucking carefully, letting excess spit run down until it collided with your hand at his base.

You twisted your hand around him, because everything was slippery enough to do that, and you started to move your head. It wasn't long until the room was filled with obscene lewd noises followed by his moans of pleasure. His desperate whimper was like music in your ears, and you continued to move along his cock, giving everything he wanted.

With each bob of your head, you took him deeper until the tip hit your throat and he moaned loudly as you gagged again. But you continued to take him deeper until his whole head was past the back of your throat and you fought the urge to swallow him fully.

"Oh, god," he moaned. "That—that's it, such a pretty mouth..."

His praise only gave you the urge to take him deeper and all of a sudden your lips were at his base, his cock buried deep inside your mouth further than you ever thought possible.

You slowly gazed up at him, entranced by his sweat-slicked, heaving body, pretty and needy. He looked down at you when you stopped moving, utterly still with his cock buried deep inside your throat; your cheeks flushed and eyes watery, lips stretched wide around his girth. Your stare was unrelenting and his grip on your hair tightened.

He was close. You could feel it. You felt it in the way he guided your head, speeding you up faster and faster until he was practically using your mouth. You did your best to use your hand, but eventually, you gave up and kept your throat open, letting him use you however he liked. After all, he looked too pretty for you to stop him.

Your jaw hurt, and your knees burned from being on the floor for too long, but you didn't care. Not when he was looking at you like you were the best gift he had ever received. And maybe you were, because honestly, you would give him everything he asked for. Not only because he deserved it, but because you enjoyed being used for his pleasure as much as he did.

You moaned when he tightened the grip in your hair, the sound sending vibrations over his cock, causing him to inhale a sharp breath through his teeth. You were desperate to try and keep up with his rough pace, his hips snapping into your mouth relentlessly.

You gagged around him again, feeling the burn in the back of your throat, your eyes watering, your lips stretching around his thick shaft, spit leaking from the corners of your mouth. He looked down at you, and god, he couldn't hold it any longer.

With sloppy, determined thrusts, he finally erupted in your mouth with a groan. You felt your throat swell with the warm, salty substance as you inhaled through your nose and swallowed it down eagerly. He continued to reach his high and you continued to suck, making sure you swallowed every last drop until he could no longer take it anymore, his body going weak from the overstimulation.

You finally released him with a soft pop when he started to relax. You felt his hand brush over your face gently while you stayed on your knees, right between his thighs. A blissed-out, tired smile pulled at the corners of his lips as he looked down at you in wonder.

You smiled back at him. A gentle haze lingered in his eyes, his brown orbs seeming a little bit brighter. His tousled hair, touched by his erratic movements because he couldn’t keep still, framed a face illuminated by a serene glow. His features were a beauty beyond the physical, leaving you utterly captivated.

He was so damn pretty, and the best thing was—he was your pretty boy.

[messylustt]

౨ৎ ‧˚

𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥) — 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠

miguel o’hara x fem!reader. 5.4k words.

fic masterlist previous part pt five next part

angst??; violence; speaking of injuries — damn y/n is in the wars; cute little worried, mad miguel; since I’m going from y/n’s perspective to miguel’s a few times it’s may seem a bit jumpy, hope that doesn’t annoy anyone — miguel gives you shocking news. and as you go to head home you end up in a different universe, meeting some spider kid, leaving miguel and the rest of them to worry and search for you.

You walk with purposeful steps. Passing by spider variants, who spare you confused glances at your almost pissed off expression. Though when one would meet your gaze you’d smile—genuinely, which made them think that a certain person was the target of your anger.

“Oi y/n— wow.” Hobie jumped down in front of you, observing your furrowed features. But yet again they would smooth out upon seeing a face you didn’t want to punch. Pavitr and Gwen were close, coming to stop beside Hobie.

“Hi.” You greet them.

“You look stressed as hell.” Hobie comments, making you forcibly chuckle.

“Not at all.” You quickly say, before veering to pass them.

“You alright, y/n?” Gwen asks.

“I appreciate the concern. I do.” You say, walking backwards. “But I’m in a bit of a rush. And annoyingly this can’t wait.”

“Careful!” Pavitr warns as you quickly skirt past a table your hip almost hit.

“Thank you!” You shout back as you rush towards a certain office that made the lines return to your forehead.

You push open the door, stalking towards the centre of the room. At the outburst Miguel looks down. He looks away knowingly, upon seeing you and your angry expression.

“Fired?!” You exclaim up at him. He doesn’t spare you a glance, continuing to tap and swipe at different screens. “I’m fired?!”

You hold up a scribbled note that said ‘You’re fired as of Tuesday’.

“You still have a day.” Miguel comments calmly.

You scoff in disbelief. “What the hell did I do?! …and can you come down here, it’s very hard yelling like this!”

Miguel sighs, but drops down in front of you. He looks bored. And that seems to piss you off more. You step closer. “You wrote me a note?” You’re still in disbelief. “You didn’t even add the reason.”

“Believe it or not that was purposeful.” Miguel monotonously says.

You narrow your eyes. “Why?” You try to lower your tone, taking deep breathes.

Miguel just tilts his head, observing your antics. You blink. “So, you’re not gonna tell me?”

He doesn’t say a thing, confirming so. You’re beyond annoyed and in all honesty what have you to lose? You’ve already lost your job, for a reason you’re dying to know and your adrenaline enduced veins seem to think that pressuring him is a smart idea.

You step closer, but realise that your “intimidating” gaze is doing nothing, his towering height making you feel like an ant. You dart your gaze around, stopping on a swivel chair, you snatch it, quickly standing on it, so that you’re somewhat of a millimetre taller than him.

“We made a deal.” You say, finally feeling a little more in control now that Miguel is looking up at you.

“And now its over.”

“That’s not how deal’s work.” You say.

“Oh.” Miguel hums. “That’s a shame.”

Your nose twitches as you hold back a snarl. Miguel is an infuriating man—it’s just that simple.

“I’m not leaving, not until you at least give me a reason.” You say, trying to appear threatening. But being in front of a man who looks it 24/7 is really dampening your confidence.

He continues to look up at you and your heaving chest, and face that’s tightened in annoyance. He sighs. “It’s better this way, y/l/n.”

“And why is that?” You try again to get the ‘reason’ out of him.

“You can go.” He turns, beginning to head back. You stare after him, mouth opening in disbelief at his complete dismissal.

You go to get off the chair, feeling your entire being deflating. But your foot seems to miss the step down as you begin to tumble forward. But before you can hit the ground a web is attaching to your hand, and yanking you into a chest.

Miguel’s breathing is displayed in that quick moving chest. One hand wrapped around your waist, while the other—that had shot the web—has ahold of your wrist.

Your eyes are wide at the fast movement of it all. “You want to know why you’re fired?” Miguel begins. “Because you’re accident prone. One trip and you could mess everything up.”

You meet his gaze. “That’s very assumptive.” You say. “You and I both know that I haven’t “fucked” anything up.”

“Yet.”

“Yet?” Your brows furrow. “You’re betting on a ‘yet’?” You step away from him, getting your wrist out of his hold. “You made a decision based on your own wrong assumptions.”

Miguel’s expression has finally changed, actually displaying an emotion—anger—but still an emotion. He grabs the bottom of your shirt, pulling you harshly back to him as his breath fans over your face.

“How do you know my “assumptions” are wrong? Huh?” He snarls.

You glare up at him. “How do you know they’re right?” His grip tightens around the material of your shirt, but you continue. “Right now, if you were to tell me that you hated my work ethic, or that I was genuinely shit at my job, I’d leave—maybe a bit upset—but I’d understand.”

Miguel’s eyes are darting everywhere they can.

“But you’re giving me nothing.” You’re blurting everything you can think to say. If not the job back, then you’re going to get your reason for it being gone. “Just say, you hate the way I work.”

You stare at him. “Please.” You’ve somewhat calmed down. Your face softening to one close to simple pleading.

Miguel gulps, his chest slowing but his heart beating on overdrive. You were so close, looking up at him with a genuine pleading look. You just wanted closure.

His hand hadn’t let up its grip on your clothes, part of him not wanting to let go.

“I thought you said you had to have a reason to fire me.” Your voice is back to your normal tone—one that always made Miguel feel comfortable, safe. Which is odd considering you wouldn’t be able to protect him or practically anyone here. Physically at least.

You sigh, realising that there’s no budging Miguel. It’s him, for crying out loud. You were stupid to think you could get anything out of him that he didn’t want you to know.

You reach your hand down, grabbing his wrist and pulling your shirt away. You back up, hands up in an almost surrender—saying ‘fine, I’ll go’.

Miguel doesn’t like the silent sentence for some reason, his expression morphing back to anger. He again swiftly shoots a web to attach to your stomach, yanking you forward again.

“Can you stop that?” You ask, once you’re directly in front of him again. “At this rate put a leash on me.” You mutter. You’d given up. And all you wanted to do was pack up and leave. Why was he dragging this out?

“Would that work?” He whispered. And now through your annoyed haze you noticed how close he was…again.

But the drop of his tone made your breath hitch, different from before. He leans closer, red eyes fully focused on you. “Would it?” He asks again.

“Would what?”

He tilts his head, licking his lips. “A leash.”

Your eyes widen, as you choke out your answer. “That was…a joke. I was kidding.”

“But would you stay out of trouble if you had something constricting you?”

Your mouth opens and closes. He had slowly been pulling you closer by the attached web, his claws dancing across the orange before they reached the material of your shirt again.

“Es eso todo lo que tengo que hacer, chaparrita?” (Is that all I have to do) He darkly whispered.

You focused on his words. You had wanted to understand Spanish before, but now you’re dying to know. And luckily, in your own time you had been studying—having stolen your phone back.

“No, O’hara.” You begin. “Todo lo que tienes que hacer es ser honesto.” (All you have to do is be honest.)

Miguel stares at you, brows furrowing for only a moment. He looks taken aback. And from his underlying impressed expression, you know your words had made sense.

“When did you learn that?”

“Why are you firing me?” You counter.

And for once, Miguel finally gives in, up to a peak with his emotions. “Because of the fucking attack!” He finally says it, or more so ‘exclaims’ it.

You pause. “The attack?”

He hisses in annoyance at himself. “I’m supposed to be helping people—the multiverse. That was the whole point of this.” He mutters out.

“I’m not following… How did I mess that up?” You ask, staring at him in confusion.

“You didn’t. Which is beyond annoying, because I’d much rather a reason where you were the problem.”

“That’s…very flattering.” You mutter, as he continues.

“But the reason why I’m firing you is because…” he clenched his jaw, closing his eyes for a moment, seeming annoyed to even think of saying it.

“Because you got…hurt.”

And of course it goes in one ear and out the other. Because in what universe does that make sense. You stare at him, blinking too many times.

“What?”

“I’m not saying it again.” He says, stepping away from you.

“No, no. What?”

Miguel is turned away and cursing at himself. Why did he admit that? He should have just said you were shit at your job.

You finally assess his words, maybe not the underlying meaning, but his general words at least. “I’ll be honest…” you begin. “I thought that was in the job description.”

Miguel turns. “What?”

“Getting hurt.” You say. “I mean maybe not that extreme considering I’m behind a desk, but I knew the risk.”

“You knew you might get hurt if you took this job?” He reiterates.

“Yeah.” You breathe. “But you’d understand. I mean you are spider-man.”

“Yeah…” he drifts off. “But you’re…”

“A weak human?” You ask.

He looks away, frowning. “I didn’t mean that.”

“It’s fine.” You say. “I can’t lie and say it isn’t the truth.”

“It’s not—“ he says extremely quickly before he extremely quickly follows with: “—entirely true. You’re also annoying.”

You raise your brows. “So, I’m an annoying, weak human who just got fired?” You slowly ask.

Miguel presses his lips together. “It’s bet—“

“Better this way.” You cut in. “Yeah, I heard you.” You sigh. “Thanks for telling me the reason.” Your tone has shifted to one Miguel really doesn’t like. You sound…disappointed…distant. And why wouldn’t you be? Of course Miguel expected this but for some reason it just didn’t settle right in his stomach.

But before he knows it you’re opening the exit door, giving him a small smile and a nod, saying: “Sorry for the…outburst.” Before you’re shutting the door and leaving.

;;

“Where is she?” Miguel is asking Peter, thankful for once that he didn’t bring Mayday.

Peter scratches the back of his head, pretending to look busy. Miguel begrudgingly turns to Hobie, raising a brow. Hobie looks him up and down before scoffing. “You’re the one who ‘fired’ her, remember mate?” He sounds annoyed.

Miguel swiftly shifts his gaze to Gwen. “She still has a day. Where is she?”

“She decided it was best to leave today.” Gwen says.

“How’d she get a wristband?” Miguel asks, narrowing his eyes. He slowly shifts his gaze back to Hobie, who is sitting, legs up on a table.

“Hobie.”

“Yes, boss?” Hobie asks, praying innocence.

“Why?” Miguel asks, gritting his teeth.

Hobie stands, walking up to him. “Why do you care? Ya clearly seem to think she’s an annoyin’, weak human.”

Miguel holds the bridge of his nose. “Did she tell everyone that?” He mutters out in question, more so to himself.

“No, she didn’t. I ‘appened to hear it.” Hobie says, making Miguel look back up.

“So she just left?” He asks, his uninterested expression cracking a fraction—only a fraction.

“That is what you wanted.” Pavitr chimes in, twisting one of his gold bands.

;;

Miguel breathes, heading back to his office. Once inside he taps his wristband, opening up a portal. He pauses. Why was he even going? You’re gone, home, safe. Just like he wanted. Why is he messing that up by seeing you?

But he’s already through the portal arriving outside your door. You lived alone so he didn’t have to worry about scaring your family. He knocks on your bedroom door, and waits. And waits. And waits.

Look, patience isn’t something Miguel is very good at, so he twists the handle, opening the door to your room. He narrows his eyes, seeing you not inside. Sure, you could have easily gone out, but as he scouted the room, he began to realise that you hadn’t been in here for a while. Dust had formed on your desk, while your bed stayed untouched and made.

“Lyla.” He calls, her appearing quickly by his shoulder. “Was y/n here?”

Lyla computes the room, scanning for footprints or any of your fresh DNA. “No. She hasn’t been here for a while.”

Miguel goes to turn back to his portal, when he steps on something. Looking down, he sees a bracelet by the very edge of the door. Picking it up, he asks Lyla again.

“Ah, she was here, recently. Only in the doorway, it seems.” She answers.

Miguel goes to pocket the bracelet but realises that he technically doesn’t have any, so he instead puts the bracelet around his wrist, walking back through the portal.

;;

“What?” Peter voices his surprise. “But she was just heading home. She’s not there? And hold up, why did you go—“

“Hobie what wristband did you give her?” Miguel interrupts, turning to Hobie. “One of your faulty ones?”

Hobie rolls his eyes, swinging his guitar strap around his body. “It was a normal one, a spare I found.”

“And you’re sure she’s not just out?” Gwen checks.

“No, I’m not, Gwen.” Miguel sarcastically states. “You really think I didn’t check?”

“Do you think she could have gone to another universe?” Pavitr asks.

“Why would she do that?” Peter asks, brows furrowed.

“Dunno, maybe she wanted to rebele.” Hobie comments. “Wouldn’t blame her.” He shoots this at Miguel, who narrows his eyes.

“I called you all here to find her.” Miguel says. “You seem to have been around her a lot. You’d have more of an idea then any other spiders.”

;;

While the spider-men and woman were all wondering where you had went, you were wondering the exact same thing.

You had been walking down the street, trying to face any form of familiarity. But nothing stands out. This wasn’t your home. This wasn’t your universe.

You keep touching your wrist in hopes to magically find the wristband there, but no, it’s still gone. Where? You wanted to know that too.

You watched as people chatted and ate, many at the city’s cafes and restaurants. It was growing darker and as you looked up you felt a single drop of water land on your cheek.

You manage to reach a bus shelter, taking a seat. Where the hell were you?

“Miles!” A man’s voice calls.

“I’ll be back, dad! I just…forgot something…at school!” Miles answers.

You shift your gaze from the falling sky to a cop and his assumable son, who is rushing down the street. You go to shift your gaze away again when you catch sight of something falling out of the kid’s bag. Narrowing your eyes you just catch what looks to be a spider-man mask, before Miles is quickly shoving it back in.

You then hear a ruckus some way down the street. A shop…being robbed. Then it clicked. This ‘Miles’ was running to the scene, because he was this universe’s spider-man.

You quickly stood, covering your head with your hands, preventing some of the rain from soaking your hair as you rushed to follow. Maybe this spider-man was apart of the spider society, and had a wristband. Whatever the outcome, you felt better that you had somewhat of a plan.

;;

When you reached the shop you chose to wait outside, knowing it not smart to just run into danger.

The fight is finished rather quickly, with a few broken windows and thrown food, but no one from the looks of it got hurt.

And as you began to follow Miles—having spotted him heading to an alleyway—you realise how creepy you would seem just following this kid who doesn’t know who the hell you are. But it’s too late to backtrack because he’s swiftly turning and shooting a web to attach your hand to the concrete wall.

You gasp in shock as the kid quickly runs up. “I’m sorry, I thought you were—“

“An evil dude, yeah don’t worry I started to think so too.” You chuckle, slowing your breathing. Your hand had smacked pretty hard against the wall, and as Miles cuts the web you realise that your hand is partially red and bruised.

“Sh— I am so sorry.” He said, spotting the slight injury too.

You wave him off. “That’s alright. I…uh needed to ask you something.”

Miles stands straighter, probably expecting you to point him in the direction of more danger. “You are the spider-man of this universe, right?”

Miles pauses. “Wait, you know—“ he shuffled closer, whispering. “You know about the other universes?”

You nod. “I was wondering if you had a wristband.”

“A wristband?” Miles’ confusion makes you deflate.

“So you don’t know about that…” you sigh, your plan dissolving away.

“Know about what?”

You smile. “That’s alright.”

You begin to step back out of the alleyway, placing your hands in your jacket pocket. “Nice job, by the way.” you gesture to the hung up robber.

“Thanks.” Miles shrugs, still looking thoughtful.

But as you near the street, you suddenly glitch, hitting against the wall, hissing in pain. Shit, or course. You were in a different universe…without a wristband.

Miles quickly reaches your side. “You’re not from here.” He mutters. He then loops his arm around your midriff, your body continuing to slightly glitch. “Jeez, I didn’t think that would hurt as much.” You mutter.

Miles brings you back into the alleyway, resting you against the wall. “What universe are you from?”

“Earth 1–“ you glitch. Then finally you stop, resting your head against the wall.

Miles kneels by you, still deep in thought. “Would you know a girl named Gwen Stacy?” He suddenly asks. Almost as if he had been waiting to ask someone this exact question.

You quickly meet his gaze—through the mask, of course. “You know Gwen?” You ask

“You know Gwen?” He repeats back.

“Yeah, she’s apart of the spider society.”

“The spider what?” Miles asks.

But you continue. “How do you know her? Wait.” You pause. “You’re Miles right?” You double check, not wanting to seem creepy and stalker-like.

“Yeah…” he drifts off.

“She spoke about you.” You smile. “A lot, actually.”

Miles decided on taking his mask off, either deciding on it being fine for you to see, or knowing that you must know what he looks like already. You can spot a faint blush on his cheeks at the mention of Gwen mentioning him.

“How did you get here?” He asks.

“It had to have been from the wristband.” You mutter. Before speaking louder for Miles. “There’s these wristbands that can transport you to different universes without all this glitchy mess.”

“Wow. Do you have one now?” He asks, looking to your wrist.

You shake your head. “Somehow I lost mine. And to be honest, I didn’t plan on coming here. I meant to go home.” You then get reminded of the fact that you got fired, and you mentally narrow your gaze at a non existent Miguel.

His reason still didn’t make sense to you. But you did get one. And you weren’t one to backtrack on your word, leaving like you had said.

“I’ve helped send a few spider…people back to their universes.” Miles begins. “But that was using something kingpin—this villain, created.”

You rest your head back against the concrete wall, the rain growing louder and louder, and heavier and heavier. “How are you gonna get home?” Miles asks.

You sigh. “I’m really not sure.”

;;

Miguel has gotten Lyla to try and retrace your steps through the different universes. But there’s a lot. So, even though it’s been a few hours she’s found nothing as of yet.

Miguel didn’t know how to feel about the two different options of your disappearance. You could have either gone on your own—chosen to, like Hobie had said. Why you would ever do that, Miguel would love to know. But would that make it his fault if something happened?

He knew you loved your job. And he had fired you, for selfish reasons that he covered up with, it being ‘in your best interest’. To Miguel it was, but you wouldn’t see it that way. He’s sure you don’t.

But then there’s the alternative that you had gotten taken. Miguel barely dove into that theory, his hands turning to fists so tight that he cut the skin of his palms through his suit, his claws tainted with his own blood. He almost felt bad for whoever had the terrible idea to take you.

If you thought what happened to those masked men in the office was bad, then you’d be horrified to see what he’d do to this supposed captor.

But right now it seemed to be worse—the not knowing. He didn’t know if you were happy, scared, living your best life, or…dead.

“Lyla!” He exclaimed turning to her and her tiny computers.

“No matter how many times you yell my name, it’s not gonna make me find her any quicker.” She sing songs.

He groans, going back to pacing. Then he hears the arrival of Gwen, Hobie, Peter and Pavitr. Turning, he doesn’t like the looks on their faces. “What is it?” He asks, crossing his arms.

Gwen looks down. “We found out that…she didn’t go voluntarily.”

There’s silence besides the almost ‘loud’ gaze of Miguel. “What was that?”

“There’s been talk through majority of the universes, about these…guys.” Peter begins.

“And when one showed us a left behind mask, it was the exact same as what those men that infiltrated HQ wore.”

“What do you mean by ‘didn’t go voluntarily’?” Miguel asks, stepping closer to them all. “How do you know that?”

“It’s more ov’ a guess.” Hobie says. “From what people were sayin’, those “guys” never let someone get away alive.”

“Y/n did.” Gwen adds, looking solemn.

“So, you lot came here, with one piece of information saying that she’s either gonna get killed or is already dead?” Miguel calmly asks.

But his ‘calm’ tone isn’t necessarily…calm. It’s more like the calm before the storm.

“It’s information that could help us.” Gwen tries to stay positive. “We can try and track these masked guys. Maybe there’s a base in a universe. That’s where she could be.”

“All I’m hearing is ‘could’ and ‘maybe’, Gwen.” Miguel says. “I’m gonna need something a little more definite than that.”

All the spider-people seem to notice the way Miguel’s expression shifted the moment the ‘masked men’ were brought up. He knows something they don’t. And that seems to irritate Hobie the most.

“Well, what do you ‘ave?” He asks Miguel. “We’ve at least found some’ing. What ‘ave you found?”

Miguel’s gaze is narrowed, his face solemn as he stares at Hobie. Hobie steps closer, his boots the second loudest thing in the room.

“Another thing,” Hobie adds. “While I’m talking…” He taps at his jeans to a beat only he can seem to hear. “I’ve never seen you act—I’m surprised to say—worried. Especially with y/n. I thought you hated her.”

“Mind your business.” Miguel turns, preparing to web up to the screens.

“My bad, boss.” Hobie backs up, a small smirk on his face.

“I thought you two were friends?” Why Miguel was suddenly having this conversation with Hobie he wasn’t sure, he just felt angry, because Hobie sounded so entitled to you. Like Miguel should stay “hating” you and that’s it.

Of course Hobie was just being his normal self, but with Miguel’s gaze glazed over with too many emotions he’s barely felt before, he sees red.

“So, why don’t you seem more worried about her?” Miguel continues.

Hobie chuckles. “You are worried.” He mutters to himself, shaking his head.

Miguel grits his teeth. “Ever heard of guilt?” He asks. “I don’t particularly want her to die. Having that on my back is gonna be extremely annoying.” Lies, lies, lies.

“Sure, Miguel.” Hobie hasn’t wiped his smirk off yet, and Miguel’s temper is rising.

“Alright, this is not helping.” Gwen quickly chimes in. “Y/n’s helped us, and we’re gonna help her…let’s just leave it at that.”

Miguel heard her. But all he can seem to focus on is Hobie’s smug face, as if he knows something no one else does. Something not even Miguel has really admitted to yet.

;;

You and Miles have talked, about a lot of different things actually. You had originally been trying to come up with a plan to get you home, but it soon evolved into telling each other’s life stories.

“Please tell me that is not how Gwen got her hair like that?” You’re laughing.

“I hadn’t known what to do.” Miles groans, slightly embarrassed at the memory of his first day as spider-man. His hand—being extremely sticky—not leaving Gwen’s hair.

“Wait.” Miles suddenly stands, gazing around. “Somethings wrong.”

You quickly join him, darting your gaze around the alleyway. The rain had ceased, so the sound of heavy footsteps were growing much clearer.

You stiffen, as you carefully follow Miles to edge of the alleyway, right before you walk onto the street. But that’s when your heart stops.

A small group of masked men stand, much more intimidating in the clearer light—the rush of the explosion and fear before having clouded your vision. What were they doing here?

“You were supposed to watch her!” One is exclaiming to another. “Now she’s run off somewhere. Did you at least take her wristband?”

Your eyes widen. They’re the reason you’re here? You press further into the wall, listening hard. Why? You desperately wanted that answer.

“Of course I took—“ but he stops, quickly snapping his head in the direction of you and Miles. You quickly hit back against the concrete, Miles doing the same as both your chests heave.

Miles begins to pull down his mask, preparing to face them. But you grab his arm. It wasn’t a coincidence that these same men infiltrated HQ and are now here, assumably having sent you here as well. Something didn’t feel right, and something seemed to tell you that they upgraded in some way since their last attack.

These guy’s suits are bigger, more armoured, with neater woven green stitching. This was obviously some sort of ‘crew’. Most crews are based on a cause. Like the spider society, for example. They’re there to protect the multiverse from inter-dimensional anomalies.

What are these guys fighting for? Could they possibly be fighting against something?

You had too many unanswered questions to let this kid get involved. “Just hold on.” You say to Miles, staying pressed to the cold wall. He pauses, shifting his gaze who you, in question.

“I’ve seen them before.” You begin. “I think they might be the reason I’m here…”

“Then we should talk to them. Capture them and get them to talk.” Miles eagerly says.

You chuckles. “I appreciate that. But I don’t think it’s wise. Not with them.”

Miles goes to say more, when the sound of footsteps near. You immediately pull Miles farther out of view. Then Miles feels it. Instead of the ‘tingle’ he gets when danger is near, it’s more like a foreboding that travels though his entire being. And now he can understand your cautiousness, because for the first time in a while he feels genuinely scared—powerless.

The only thing you can think to do is begin to head down the alleyway, picking up speed. Then you’re both running. “Hey! I think I found her!” A voice shouts, and that’s when you run. The type of run that makes you feel lightheaded, and sick in your stomach.

Miles grabs you, web slinging across a building. “I should be fighting them!” He exclaims through the wind. “Why am I running away!?”

“It’s probably a survival instinct!” You exclaim, as he continues to swing. “Which is concerning since your spider-man.” You mutter this more to yourself. If spider-man’s first instinct was to run then what could this mean for the rest of society?

Then suddenly Miles is getting yanked back, his web snapping, resulting in you both falling to the hard ground. You hit the concrete with a harsh slam, making your eyes blur and your ankle scream.

“Shit.” You mutter. You’re praying it’s not twisted. Please don’t be sprained—you chant in your head, as you scramble to your feet, spotting a nearing masked man, claws out and ready.

You couldn’t see Miles, but to be fair you couldn’t see much. So you ran, or more painfully hobbled away. You had to put pressure on your ankle so that you would move. The man is nearing, his heavy breathing sounding louder than it should be.

But then you feel a hand wrap around your waist, pulling you somewhere dark and desolate. You go to scream, eyes wide, when a hand gets placed over your mouth, quieting any forming sounds that were about to fall.

You can’t see who it is, your blurry gaze and the dark atmosphere making it difficult. You squint, only knowing that someone is pushing you up against a wall, one hand wrapped around your waist, as the other keeps you quiet.

Then you feel a breath by your ear. “Don’t move.” He breathes. And finally the slight accent and familiar tone makes your entire body slump.

Miguel.

You never thought you’d feel so relieved to know it’s him, but once he had spoken, Miguel could feel your entire body relax, nearly sliding to the floor, the pressure you were placing on your injured ankle now faltering.

Miguel keeps you upright, tightening his grip on your waist, as he keeps his mouth by your ear. “Would now be a bad time to ask why you left a day early?”

And you actually laugh, half heartedly and mixed in with a groan of pain, but still a laugh nonetheless.

Then Miguel is moving his hand to hold your chin, as he tries to focus your gaze. “Can you see?”

Your eyes had begun to droop, the exhaustion gradually catching up to you. But then you grab Miguel’s arm tightly. “Miles.” You say, remembering the kid.

“Miles?” Miguel questions.

“The kid. I was with a kid. Another spider-man. Is he okay?” You rush this out, forcing Miguel to place his hand back over your mouth.

“Shh. You’ll get us caught.” He whispers.

You protest, needing an answer, because you could feel yourself slipping from consciousness.

“He’ll be fine. Gwen is with him.” Miguel consoles, seeing your stress. Your shoulders slump in relief, and finally the exhaustion catches up, grabbing a hold of you, as your eyes begin to flutter.

“Wow, wow.” Miguel mutters, catching your dropping body. “Don’t close your eyes.” He all but demands, but it’s too late. Your eyes roll closed, as darkness gives you a hug.

Miguel slips to the ground with you, holding the back of your head from hitting back. He prays that it’s just exhaustion, and nothing more…permanent.

His chest is heaving, his eyes trained on you, while his ears stayed focused, in case the sound of heavy boots broke the city noise.

But he hears nothing of concern, his finger—at first without permission—dragging along your jaw.

Your lips were slightly parted, your body so limp in his hold. “I’m sorry.” He mutters quietly, his dragging finger drifting up to your face, to brush a stray hair, still slightly damp from the rain.

His finger pauses by your lips, not quite touching, just hovering. He’d been in denial. Big denial. And maybe you wouldn’t feel the same, maybe you hated him. But right now Miguel couldn’t find it in himself to care, all the loud voices in his head zoning out to one single voice saying ‘I like her’ … ‘I like her a lot’.

sorry, this one kinda goes everywhere. i needed to add my guy miles <3 i don’t know if I like this one *crying* it feels too random. I’ll hopefully get back on track next chapter

part six is on its way! — thanks so much for all your guys support on this series, you guys are truly incredible

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[ja3honey]

♡ 𝐒𝐡𝐮𝐭 𝐔𝐩 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞 | 𝐂.𝐒 ♡

【Synopsis】 : You had one job and three rules. And you broke every single one.

『Word count』 : 2.18k

-> Genre: Smut. Mafia Au.

Pairing: MobBoss!San x PrivateDriver!Reader 

[Warnings] : Swearing. Gun violence. Some angst. Mention of death. San's a bit bloody. Blood (obviously). Unprotected sex. Car sex. Squirting. Light-hearted banter. Hinting of sex work and abuse (doesn't go into detail). Speeding. Car chase. Fingering. Fucking while driving (don't do this). Pet names

Note: This is based on this drabble. Everyone liked it so much that i just had to make a full fic, hehe.

Networks : @newworldnet ♡

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“Oh no, I want to hear it, darling. What else would you find enjoyable to ride?” He shot the last of his drink, his hand evidently palming his clothed hard-on.

“I think you already know the answer, sir.”

“Hmm.” was all he responded with.

-

That night you’d fuck yourself on your dildo with the idea of San palming himself while you drove. The way his pants were stuck in your brain, playing on repeat as he continued to pleasure himself while you drove him home. You couldn’t have dropped him off sooner, cause you swore he was going to cum in his pants if he kept going.

‘Until next time, bunny.’

His voice was so smooth. Deep. You know you were playing a dangerous game by becoming involved with a client much less a feared mob boss that would kill someone that looked at him the wrong way. But the way he looked at you through the mirror every time you drove him. He was always so happy to see you, chatting about anything to keep his mind off his work. You were an escape for him. Something that was a reminder he was supposed to be this angry man twenty-four-seven. No, he could, laugh, tease, flirt, with you and you’d either shut him down or egg him on. Both of which rial him up even more.

The idea of touching you, having you. Even if it was for one night, it was becoming increasingly more tempting. But alas, he knew you. You are professional, and you wouldn’t disobey your company’s rules.

Do not sleep with the clients.

But something deep in your soul was screaming at you that all of your morality was about to go out the window. You were sent to pick up a client on a south port right after they had finished some trade. Well, that was the plan, at least, but here you were sitting an hour later after the supposed pick-up. This is getting ridiculous. You thought, shifting in your seat, trying to keep your muscles awake. What is taking him so long?

You knew of the client. Some lowlife trying to make it big in the mafia world. How he managed to hire you was a mystery. Maybe a debt is being paid? Or some sweet talking. But then again, from what you heard, he had neither up his sleeve. You closed your eyes for a moment, just a moment, trying to rest the tired feeling you were experiencing behind your temple. Everything was quiet, peaceful almost… Well, that was until you heard a gunshot, then two more following it.

You sat up and looked around frantically, spotting a few men rushing out of the large barn that sat by the waterfront. They were chasing a man, a young feline looking—it’s San.

The side door opened to a bloody-looking man with a feverious smile. His adrenaline was pumping to the point that you could see the veins in his neck bulging. His gun was still tight in his grip, wiping his brow with the back of the same hand. “I need you to get us out of here, princess.”

“I..B-but. Wait. My client…” You were so confused, not even registering you started the car. The men that had been chasing San were hot on your tail, so you began to floor it through the back roads of the port.

“Uh, yeah, well. He’s dead. He didn’t like the deal I offered and the bitch thought he could beat it out of me. ME! The king of fucking Seoul. Fucking arrogant pig.” San rambled but you barely heard what he had to say about the client. No, all you could think about was getting the fuck out of dogged and away from any of the crooks San managed to piss off. But then again pissing people off seemed like San's specialty.

“Where do I even go from here those bastards are probably tracking my fucking car.” You’ve never spoken so out of line before in front of a client but here you were. San just raked his fingers through his dirty hair, licking his busted lip.

“Why would they be tracking us.” San started searching through the glove departments for any signs of a tracker, but you just huffed, clutching the wheel tighter before almost screaming at him.

“They would be tracking us ‘cause they are the ones that own this fucking car and I was supposed to drive their fucking boss to a fucking safe house you idiot.” You didn’t mean to blow up but the tension became so thick in the vehicle you felt like you had no choice. San sat still for a moment, never hearing someone call him out of his stupidity before other than his right hand, Wooyoung. The silence was making your skin crawl, making you suddenly aware you just yelled at a mob boss. A mob boss that was definitely packing some kind of weapon…The fucking king of Seoul as he put it. You suddenly felt a hand touch your thigh making your whole body jump and the car almost swerved off the road.

“Well go on. Get us out of here, darling.” His voice was smooth and collected. It made your head spin. “B-but the track—If we get far enough, the tracker won’t reach, and then we can dump the car and run." San chuckled, turning back to stare at the road. You, on the other hand, were struggling to keep focus on the tar in front of you. He hasn't moved his fucking hand…

You started to speed up, swerving through the small amounts of traffic. You kept eyeing the rear-view mirror checking your back, and you noticed several cars tailing you.

Bastards.

You took a sharp left, causing San to shift in his seat and his hand that was perched on your thigh to slide up higher. You visibly shivered, making San aware of where his hand went. He just smirked, "Such a good girl. Getting me out of here. Remind me, why you don't drive for me permanently again?"

"Cause you flirt too much and I'm…" you felt his finger brush against your inner thigh… "I-I'm in a contract with the company I work for."

"Hmmm, well, you know I'm pretty good at making contracts disappear." He dared to reach further, and you were delusional enough to open your legs a little for him.

"H-he'd kill me. I can't leave." There was so much more in your contract that San didn't know of, but he could think of a few things the scum bag made you do. You have a passion for driving and driving fast. And he used that to get you to do other shit for him. Bastard.

"You won't have to ever do anything for him ever again. Come home with me. I'll look after you. Let you ride any of my cars… and anything else you might want…" he leaned towards your tense frame, seeing your knuckles turn white from how hard you held the wheel. "I'd give you the moon if you asked, darling. Anyone for my best girl."

My best girl…. oh, now your head is definitely spinning. Your foot hit the gas harder, reaching a long stretch of dirt road. Sitting at 90, you jumped to 120. "S-san…"

He popped the button of your dress pants, slipping his fingers delectably down until they grazed your bare core.

125km/h

"You like to be called my best girl, huh? Just need some praise, princess?" His breath tickled as he licked a strip along your neck up to your ear, biting your ear lob. All the while, his hand dipped further, running his long finger along your slit. "Fuck your soaked baby. Wet for me baby?" He chuckled, deeply.

You bit your lip, trying so hard not to close your eyes. "San p-please." You didn't know why you said that, but it was all you could think of. He pushed the pad of his finger against your clit, rubbing in slow little circles.

130km/h

"God you know how much I've thought about this pussy. How much I've dreamt about fucking her, tasting her. I bet you taste like fucking honey darling." His finger slid into your aching hole, making you gasp.

135km/p

Your watery eyes looked through the rear-view mirror, seeing no one behind you anymore, just a thick dust cloud created in your wake. You felt his finger slip in and out of you, making you open your legs wider for him. He chuckled, kissing your neck more until.

You slammed on the brakes, drifting the car through the dirt until it spun around and stopped in a sharp huff. Everything happened so quickly, but it was like you and San were in sync. Undoing your belts, he pulled his chair's brake, pulling the seat backwards so he had more leg room and was angled so you could climb on top of him.

Your lips captured his in a hot and messy kiss while his hand worked his belt and pants, slipping them down just enough so his naked ass could rest on the leather and his cock slapped against his clothed abdomen. You pulled your pants off while still in your seat. Ditching your slip-on sneakers before climbing onto his lap.

He gripped your blouse, ripping it off so the button flew everywhere. Neither of you cared though. Not as his lips latched on the top of your breasts, tugging your bra down so your tits could spill over the top. "Fuck,"

He groans as he catches a glimpse of your body. You are perfect, better than he imagined. "This was not how I wanted to ravish you."

"Yes, it was, don't fucking lie." You cut him off with another kiss. In truth, you were right. He had many dreams of fucking you senselessly in one or all of his vehicles. Maybe even on his bike, too.

"It's the thought that counts." He laughed against your lips.

"Shut up." You pulled your panties aside, sinking your fingers inside yourself. San watch in awe as you stretched yourself out on top of his twitching cock. And as if you could get more perfect, you moaned his name while doing it.

"Fuck your gorgeous." He slammed his head back against the chair and groaned as he bucked his hips up to try and get some kind of friction. But what he didn't expect was to feel your hand wrap tightly around his aching shaft. "Jesus fuck.."

It was your turn to giggle now, shifting your weight you lined your soaking entrance to his red angry cock tip, letting him breach your walls with a pop. You slowly sank down on his inch by inch. His hands flew for your hips, helping you bottom him out. "Saaniie y-you're huge. Fuck."

"Don't say shit like that. I-Fuck.. I won't last." His eyes hazily gazed to where you were connected feeling you pull up, then slam back down onto his cock. You circled your hips, drawing loud moans from both of you. Your hands fly to his shoulders, bringing his body closer to yours. Chest to chest. San nuzzled his face into your neck, taking a large inhale through his nose. He could smell your sweet perfume mixing with the lude scent of sex.

"So perfect." He mumbled, bracing his feet to the floor before jackhammering into your soaked cunt. Your screams were muffled against his neck as his pace became ruthless and harsh. Your hips moved out of sync with his thrusts, perfectly letting you grind your clit against his pelvis, sending electricity up your spine.

"S-sann, I'm gonna cum. Please let me cum." You whimpered, biting down on his shoulder fearing to draw blood.

"Yes, cum baby. I want to feel you cum around my cock. Be a good girl." He groaned, holding you tighter, feeling his own high creeping closer. Your tummy tugged tight and snapped. Your hips stilling, taking San's abusive thrusts as you squirted all over his lap.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck." San slammed deep inside you, splurting his seed inside you, painting your walls with his cream. He kisses your shoulder, legs slightly shaking as he empties his load. You just laid there, taking every drop. Your pussy clenched around him, hissing at the sensitivity. Your fingers were laced in his hair, and his making shapes on your sweat-still clothed back.

"I broke the rules…" You whispered. San felt a little guilty that he made you break the rules of your company. He tainted you, and he was sorry for it. You'd never get another job as a driver if people found out you slept with a client. "You made me go over 140. You're lucky there weren't cops out here."

Oh, you were complaining about sleeping with him.

"That's what you're worried about." San had to laugh, hugging your figure tighter as he chuckled against your neck.

"Yes, I could have crashed and fucked the car."

"Yeah, instead, you just fucked me." You sat up and slapped his chest for that comment.

—

Special Taglist : @isiloiale @imperfect0angel @sugarnspice630 @yeorisanaxox @maeleelee @uarmytess @mxnsxngie @shuporangporanglinossss @nopension @sanhwalvr @gypsythrift @hyukssunflower @dearinsaniiity

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ CADAVER

tw. wound fucking, blood, gore, don’t read this if you’re squeamish!!, somnophilia, oral, noncon, megumi is delusional in this, yandere, belly bulge but gross! , cannibalistic thoughts wordcount. 6.4k

a/n. this one,,, was me pushing myself to just go buck wild, and channel my inner junji, and i think i got somewhere with it... a select few of you will understand me when i say that ,, this is like my love letter to megumi fr ♡ like i said though, this one might be the one that has people a little yucked out but! it's basically my halloween fic, for the spooky month

fushiguro megumi x fem!reader

When the rattling of the stretcher finally quiets in the halls and the rising rate of adrenaline starts to flatten out, Megumi’s lost on what to do. Any of the other sorcerers can’t decide what the next step is either, it seems. Yuji with his back pressed against the glass and staring off into the empty part of the hall they just came from, and principal Yaga a stern quietness and arms crossed. Ieiri-san will do her best work today of any days if there’s anything to be done about it, but Megumi can tell. That uncertainty hangs over all of them as the faint breathing of a collapsed body grows more pitched and panicked.

Megumi always sort of hated you. He didn’t like you from the second he first met you, and it just grew and grew and grew from there. He hates your stupid demeanor with your higher-than-thou morals and your sky-high milestones and that grin that could make even the coldest heart split in two. It doesn’t escape him that this is the same reason he always did enjoy Maki, but you were — more recognizable to him, and yet somehow much further away.

He always hated the way he’d catch himself watching the soft motion of your lashes, or how your mouth would form words, the heat that would carry color to your face. He always hated the quiet moments you’d sit by his side, rattling his heart out of his chest and laughing at him for his hot cheeks; and he always hated how you’d be the thought on his mind right after he’d made sure his own limbs hadn’t yet been blown to bits. But standing with his hands covered in a coating of blood that isn’t his, dripping onto the panes of the old flooring, he wonders what that hatred ever really got him. It never helped him understand you better, that for someone so alike himself, you were so much better at everything.

His chest is rising and falling too fast.

Gojo’s too late, always is when it comes down to the wire, Megumi thinks as the lankier man rushes through and stops a few feet away from them. Yaga’s brow pinches, before he lifts his head the slightest bit to acknowledge the white blond. “What’s the status,” Gojo has to ask, and before he has another conscious thought, Megumi’s furiously rubbing his hands over his sweater in an attempt to get the blood off while his teeth clack with how hard he’s clenching them. There’s a thickness between his ears that makes everything sound far off. The blood stains his fingers the more he rubs, and his face gets hotter and hotter as it lasts.

But he thinks he hears the principal explain.

How you had been pinned down and knocked clean out, head bashed against the concrete pillars. How Megumi had been too busy trying and failing to keep the uglier curse from blasting you both to shit, to notice. How the other special grade had picked you up by the neck and unceremoniously shoved something into your mouth and pushed until it went down your throat - until you started convulsing, spitting out blood and bile before he could reach you. Megumi hadn’t taken the time to look then, but he knows now what it was, slimy, decaying contents of a little vial that had gone missing a few months ago.

“The girl must’ve been a real good match.” Yaga pushes his fingers to his brow, as if forcibly trying to push the frown down. “Ieiri’s doing what she can.” It doesn’t make any of them feel better when Gojo clicks his tongue and aims his eyes at the door, before casting a quick glance at Megumi under thick, blond lashes. He wants to puke. He’d shoved his fingers down your throat for what felt like hours, trying desperately to get you to throw up the curse. Had carried you all the way back while you were sobbing and wailing in pain. Nothing.

If even the worst case repeats itself, they’ll have another incarnation on their hands, and the noose will be tightened around your throat. Yuji must have already realized this, because he’s yet to say anything since you’d been tied onto the stretcher with blood pouring out of your nose and ears and coughing up grime. Megumi’s not even sure if Ieiri would hesitate to put you down without a second warning before it gets to the same turning point. And he is pissed. At the situation, his friends, himself, you. He’s so angry his hands shake, and so angry tears start stinging behind his eyes, feeling like any motion might cause him to throw up. He hates you.

+

Your chest’s rising with big motions up and down, up and down, as you drum your feet on his bedsheets like an excited rabbit. Megumi grunts, snatches the book from your hands and tosses it back down with the others that were not-so-neatly stacked on his desk. Your shape on his bed makes a dent in his mind that he’ll have to keep replaying over and over when he closes his eyes, and it has a frown pulling his eyebrows down automatically. “So grumpy,” you yawn, and also roll over onto your stomach to tuck your legs to your core, lifting one hand to rest your face into it.

“This isn’t your room.”

“Might as well be,” you giggle back, and he watches for a moment as your hair falls along your shoulders in a gentle brush, making you look even more enchanting. You’re soft and parts of you are shiny like silk, seemingly oozing your rosy, peachy aura all over his stuff. You catch his eyes for just a few breaths, still rising your chest too distractingly, before you push yourself up and slide off the bed to walk up to him. He pivots to thumb through the notes on his desk again, to be farther away from your face probably, and his shoulders rise into an uncomfortable pinch when you approach, feet patting on his floor. “Megumi.” You say his name with a clear pout.

Then heat covers his skin at the base of his throat and he freezes, letting the way you drag your soft lips over his pulse fill him up entirely. His hands shake too hard to keep a grip on the paper, so he spins you around and shoves you back against the desk as you hiss at the sudden painful grip, his fist wrapped into the collar of your shirt. “I already told you to stop doing that.” He hisses, and your eyes are wide and glittering like diamonds, beautiful color peering up at him.

“But you like it when I do that,” you whisper back ever so softly, and his head feels like it’s splitting at the seams, cracking his skull under a non-escapable pressure. He can’t think, can’t even eat normally without the ghost of you hanging over him and shaking him up. It’s unbearable even when you’re not around. His fist unclenches from the flimsy fabric to instead grip your chin with his thumb, and his heart bangs against his ribcage harder than can be normal. Harder than is healthy. A little thought in the back of his skull begs to push. Just once, deny you from digging your claws deeper into him— but he’s already melted to your shape before he can blink.

His face drops like you’re magnetic, thighs pushing you further into the desk and also into him; and it’s truly embarrassing that his hands are still shaking like they do. You lean in when he does, and let your lips meet his hungry, treacherous mouth, other hand sliding to your waist to pull you closer. Your tongue brushes his and he implodes inside, and he swears it hurts to be this close to you.

Not that you care. Your arms wind around his neck to pull him even closer, and his blood feels like it’s boiling under his skin.

+

He finds himself wandering back to the quieter wing of the school when the sun’s already dipped far past the horizon, and the cold starts picking up. He’s dragging his feet, so he won’t fucking rush back to the room he finds himself thinking about so fast he stumbles. He’s glaring at the patterns in the floorboards so he doesn’t cry. You’re stable- quiet puffs of air escaping your nose every few seconds, but you’re still under surveillance. As far as the clans are concerned, they’ll put something sharp between your eyes sooner rather than later, before whatever’s slumbering inside you wakes up. But Gojo’s fighting for you. It makes him grimace to think about.

Knocking his knuckles onto the doorframe, he enters the dimly lit room. Nanami doesn’t stand when he spots him, but does uncross his legs as he takes a deep breath. Neither of them speak for a while, and the dark haired man takes that time to run his eyes over you. You’re not as dirty as you were when you first got back, shivering and shaking. You’re no longer dripping with blood, though he’s sure if he were to look close enough, he’d still be able to see flecks of it between your cracked lips. As he walks up, he finds himself thinking that you look strangely peaceful, and that doesn’t seem entirely right.

Save for the bloody mark that seems branded into your forehead, you look like you’re quietly sleeping on the metal slab that supports your body. After all the pain and agony you’ve caused in him, sleepless nights and long days of wondering, hoping you’d be okay. Why is it that he’s the one affected by you? Why is it that he’s the one who’s going to have to say goodbye again? He stares at your unmoving form as if that’ll give him an answer, but it doesn’t. And the pit in his stomach swells again. He’s just so angry all the time. Megumi breathes out. “It’s my turn to take watch for a while.”

“You’re early,” Nanami’s deep baritone chastises, but he gets up from the seat anyway. He smooths out the wrinkles in his suit, before slowly placing a hand on the other’s shoulder. The weight is heavy, and somehow doesn’t soothe him at all. But there’s an attempt, he guesses. He’s still not entirely sure why everyone is looking at him like he’s the one who needs it most, broken and disheveled and mourning. He’s been able to finish his tasks like everyone else has, and he can banish the thought of you when he’s supposed to focus on work— at least, mostly. He doesn’t need the fucking pity. “Want some coffee? Or green tea?” Nanami asks, letting his hand slide off when Megumi shrugs.

“No. I’m okay.”

The older man seems to hesitate, simply nodding when he walks past. Before closing the door behind him, he once again clears his voice, and Megumi turns over his shoulder. The blond has this look in his eyes, of pity, as he talks. “Megumi, there’s a chance she pulls through.” Why again - that fucking pity? “Don’t give up.” Though it makes him tingle with an unbearable sort of itch deep under the skin, he grits his teeth, and his brain’s hot and irritated when he responds.

“I wasn’t going to.” Nanami doesn’t seem to believe him, but still softly slides the door closed behind him, and when the footsteps grow softer and softer, Megumi allows for a second to collect himself. He braces his hands onto the metal as he leans in, close enough to feel just the slightest bit of your warmth on his fingers, and see the way you’re still breathing, though shallow, too faint for his liking. His brows pinch when he finds himself with his forehead pressed to your stomach, hunched over like he’s praying at your shrine or something. But he can’t help it.

As much time as he spent beside you with a frown on his face, it never feels enough. He can’t stay away, like it’s an involuntary thing— you leave him no choice in the matter. Even here in the darkness, whining softly into your wheezed breaths, it isn’t enough to be beside you. He can’t do anything from here at your bedside; and that uselessness makes him feel even more uneasy. He needs to be closer to you. Wants to be so close you two get stuck together and melt together like an inseparable entity, would want to crawl inside you if he could.

His nose presses into the clean shirt that smells like your laundry, as he clenches his fists so hard along the table edge they start to ache. His eyes are pressed closed tight when he allows him just a second to nose below your sternum, and that uncomfortable stinging sensation comes back to his eyes. “Fucking idiot,” his lips brush against your covered skin, taking in the lack of heat, of your smell and the way you sounded with his face buried there, “I didn’t mean it.”

+

“Aw, ow, ow, Megumi~” You pout with a pitched whine as his hand stays screwed around your knee for a little longer, keeping you trapped under his heavier, taller body so that you start wiggling. Your head falls back against his arm, and you lean to press a few kisses to his wrist that’s holding your own to the floor. “Be more gentle.” You pout when you pull back and flash him that fucking look that sends icy shivers down his spine, and exactly nothing else. “You can be gentle, can’t you?” Every other part of him flushes with heat under your doe-eyed, pitiful look, definitely when you start wiggling out of his grasp like you’re suddenly over the game.

You started it. He wouldn’t put himself in your range on purpose. When you’re about halfway out from under his crouched form, you sit up to be face to face; and you brush your hand past his ear, down his jaw and neck and trail his collarbones, all places he’s convinced are now stained a bright, obnoxious pink from his flush. You let your fingers linger when you tilt your head aside a bit so you can slot your lips over his into a sweet, little kiss, and you pull your lips into another pout. “Swear you’re doing it to hurt me sometimes. I’m never trying to hurt you, you know.” A few strands of hair fall over your eye when you sit below him, and he has to fight every single muscle in his body not to push it back for you.

He wants to see your eyes. He wants you to see him like this, pinned under you like the attraction you render him as— his body collapses on top of you as you start giggling all fucking cutely, and his heart races more than it ever has. Your heartbeat drums into his face when he buries it into your softness, chest against his cheek, too long for his own sanity before he drags himself off you. And it is a drag. His entire body starts feeling sluggish when you’re this close to him, close enough to drown himself in your scent. He won’t ever say it, but that scent gets him hard and awfully mellow all at once, his cock coming to life in his pants before he’s moving.

You look happy. Your eyes are those bright, gentle colors that rain down on him, and your lips are quirked into a soft smile, you must know what you’re doing to him. Setting him up for failure again. He huffs and pushes himself onto his back instead, knocking his head to the floor while you’re moving from the rug - splaying your knees either side of him before you nuzzle right back on top of his chest and make it even harder to get a breath, let alone catch it. He’s sure he’s panting a little when you leave your warmth draped all over him, and you don’t do anything other than be there.

His arms are still on the floor, his body rigid under you, but you’re softly giggling into his peck before he frowns down at you again when you catch his eyes. “What?”

“Your heart is beating super fast,” you admit, not proud, not gloating - just stating the fact, and heat overtakes his neck now too. Instead of letting you wind him up any further, he bucks you off and switches positions again, now with your two wrists caught in his hands as you squeak with the ache that probably lodges in your back.

“Can you get off of me?” He sits back on his feet, not letting go of your hands yet, before your eyes flutter and you grab him back. Well, brush your fingers over the skin you can reach, pawing at him just enough to tickle. “What’s with you today?” he bites back, and also snatches his hands back to escape the onslaught of feelings that wash over him. You don’t sit up this time, and from the tilt of your head, you’re considering your answer for a while before you speak out.

“Do you like me, Megumi?” Fuck. His room seems to collapse in on itself. Or, maybe it’s his body— because he gets a little more short of breath, and his thoughts short circuit as his mouth stupidly drops open. He’s choked up for long enough that he has to clear his voice to try an answer, and even then, he gets stuck. You’re studying him so closely it must show. The blaring warmth that fills him up and makes his ears bright red. After another second, your eyes seem to dim slightly, as you push your cheek to your shoulder, opening yourself up to even more attacks. “Love y’, ‘gumi.”

+

He straightens up with enough tightness in his chest to choke him, makes his eyes sting and his head blare cold, painful warnings— he grabs some of the glasses from the small table beside him, launches it straight into the wall until it shatters into a million pieces upon impact. The loud clang doesn’t do anything to settle his anger, where he fists his hands into his hair and pulls, in hopes the worry will somehow vanish.

“Why do you always have to be such a hero?” he hisses, even though you can’t answer now, “wouldn’t it have been enough to just stay here with me?!” He tilts your face to his and drops his lips to yours, and that familiar softness is enough to have him clenching his eyes shut again against the tears. He kisses you until your mouth opens a bit, then slides his tongue up against yours and grips your shoulders, pulling your limp body towards him more. “I’ll be better to you.” He pleads. You don’t move, and the breaths going over his cheeks are so shallow.

But he can’t stop himself from tangling your tongue with his, licking into your mouth and chasing the warmth until he runs out of breath. You’re so fucking pretty still. He kisses you again, bumping teeth, and grips your hip hard as he lays over you a little more, chest to chest and feeling it brush against him with each soft pant he lets out, each gravelly moan. It doesn’t hurt so much to brush his tongue against yours, to swallow your taste on his tongue until his lips numb — but while it doesn’t ache, it’s also not enough. Before he’s able to think about the morality of his actions, his thumbs are hooking under your shirt and pushing it up, over your soft belly and ribcage all the way up until it’s over your tits, where his lips travel to as soon as the skin’s exposed. You’re so soft still, too.

He’s not sure what he’s doing other than leaving messy, open mouth kisses onto you, kneading your skin between his hands as all the warmth in his body pools into his groin. Your tits are sucked into his mouth, one then the other, as he rubs his face into the doughy skin, then he’s pulling and pinching at your tits like he knows makes you whimper. The sound’s burned into his working memory, and it drives him on to run his face down your soft body to the part where your thighs meet. The skin just above your skirt of the softest, warmest, and he full on moans when his cock twitches hard in his pants and he reaches down to grab himself.

Normally you’d be blinking up at him now, sending him that little look with grabby hands, ready to wrap your puffy lips around him— it’s different when it’s his hand screwed around himself and not even moving yet. he can’t, or he’ll cum in his pants, and he’s not going to waste his cum like that when your warm pussy’s right before him. He’s shaky when he pushes the fabric up, flipping it over your tummy; and groans again when he licks down your panties and mouths at the seat of it. It tastes so much like you his eyes roll back, and his knees give a little, while more precum leaks out of him and into his pants.

He frees his hands momentarily to slide you to the edge of the metallic table, two hands gripping your butt and squeezing, then hooking his finger in your panties to just pull them aside. He doesn’t care about the chaffing he’ll have. Not even a second thought when your little pussy is in front of him, and he pushes his mouth to you for some open mouthed kisses, down to your pussy and back up. Wrapping his mouth around your clit, he sucks hard, and rubs the bud a few times with his tongue. He swears your breathing goes more pitched and heavier when he does, when his fingers trail down your puffier lips to rub the bit of wetness around.

His cock’s painfully hard in his pants, and after a few more times licking you up and down so that your slick covers the entire bottom half of his face, he pushes the zipper down and then takes himself out to watch how red and sore the head of his cock already is, oozing pre and coating both his boxers and his shaft. He spits into his hand to give himself a few tight-wrung pumps, tighter than he likes normally- if he doesn’t, he’ll spill all over your cute, little pussy. He pushes his fingertips inside your now wetter cunt, watching it wink and beg for something to fill, and groans when one finger slides in with ease.

Your soft walls are still soft and hot around him, giving mean licks over your clit again and again in a way that would normally overstimulate you too easily. You don’t whimper or whine now, take his finger nice and sweet inside your squelching, gooey walls, only making a little noise when he slides in a second and he can feel the slight bit of stretching you need. He’s dripping onto the table now, balls tight and heavy - imagines how you moan and look when you’re sucking on them and you smack your lips with each open mouthed kiss or lick. You between his legs is always enough to have his knees giving, and it’s no different now, he has to hold himself up against you before he thinks better of it.

You’re slid back on the table too easily, making room for him when he pushes one of your legs aside— and let out a slight gasp when he hoists himself over your body. He just wants you. So bad. It’s not so embarrassing when you’re not awake to see how fucking crazy he looks, flushed, cock twitching between his legs as he strains to kiss you again, lick over your tongue for more of your taste, and breathes your name. “Baby, fuck- I need to be inside you.” He wants to hide away in your safety forever. A crystalline, fucked up thought springs up in his mind for just a second, but he banishes that with a few blinks.

Instead he lines himself up over your hot, needy pussy and pushes inside just the head at first, grunting tightly at the softness that envelops him. His whole body shudders as he pushes in deeper, feeling that pit in his stomach expand with each inch that he goes deeper, tangles his fingers with yours when he bottoms out and fills you up so well. You’re curled into his touch, and he kisses you, his thoughts blanking as he pulls back, and snaps his hips back inside you. You’re hot and wet and it feels so fucking good, clenching your hand inside his larger one. It’s not fair. He’s losing his mind, and you’re always the end of him.

His cock rubs against your swollen insides with rough, imprecise strokes — he doesn’t mean to, it’s just that trying to focus on anything other than the heat as he slides in and out of your tight pussy is too much. You’re too much; you’re haunting him even now. He kisses down your face to your neck, sucks on your skin and bites down hard enough to make a serious mark, wanting to hear you cry. Normally, you’d cry out his name so pretty, dig your nails into his back until he’s letting you go and grinding back on his cock, but you can’t do that now. His cockhead bumps your spot each time he fucks himself into you further, but it’s not enough.

It’s never been enough. He wants to be closer to you, and that horrible image that was launched into his head creeps back up before his eyes, bloody and horrible. Maybe he always told himself that he hated you because - no matter how much he fought, he would never be able to stomach actually hurting you as much as it hurts him. But now, withering on top of you as his cock thumps with how much blood rushes south, everything else falls away. He wants to claw and bite and carve his way to your insides and make you pay just a little for his sins. His body is coated in a thin sheen of sweat, thighs pumping blood through his body to his lungs, his gut, his cock.

He pulls out of you to kiss down your tits and over your covered ribs, thumbing over the head of his cock and gliding it over your puffy clit, your wet pussy lips and flicking it just in and out of your drooling cunt— before he puts a sloppy few kisses there too, tongue coated in slick. The blood pumps through his head so hard he feels dizzy, pounding behind his eyes as the heat of your cunt overwhelms him entirely. It’s too hard to stay sane -he’s never felt less sane than now- when you’re laying below him like this, ready to leave him all alone. You wormed your way into his heart when he didn’t want it, and now, now that’s all about to end.

His mouth is dry, but he’s drooling as he grips your thigh and kneads the doughy skin of your tummy— looking so soft and warm and perfectly shaped for him. He wants -needs, needs it, to feel you swallow him, ruin him- to cut you open and eat your insides out with the sick force of what he’s feeling right now— he groans your name again, desperately trying and failing to get it out of his head— the more he tries the better it feels to think it. Despite having his fist around the base of his cock, stings of white shoot over your body as he crumples in on himself and paints you with his cum. He’s still hard though, painfully so, and as soon as he’s done cumming he can already feel the building urge to do it again, trailing his shaking fingers down to your clenching pussy and rubbing your clit until your body starts wiggling back just a little too.

Megumi wants to go, bury this urge down and never think of it again. He really does— but it’s like he’s possessed, drooling over your body and flicking his cock in and out of your pussy without sliding back in. He might’ve had it wrong this whole time, but if this is love - God, he loves you, he loves, loves, loves you so much he’s not ever going to have enough. Can’t ever say goodbye, not when his entire soul’s been bound to yours, has been rotted away into nothing like this. There’s only you, and him; and he can’t get close enough to make this fucking feeling go away.

With black spots swimming over his vision, he’s not sure what he’s doing until he’s knelt on the floor and shards of glass cut his knees open through his pants; he doesn’t feel it - just trembles as he gets one of the larger shards and crawls back to you, right between your plush thighs as he kisses your face over and over until he feels like he’ll be sick. “Forgive me when you wake up, baby.” It doesn’t really sound like him anymore, faint and messy as he ruts his cock against the inside of your thigh and stares at your face for a little longer. He paws at your tummy again, maybe it’s the lack of oxygen - he feels like he hasn’t taken a breath in ages - or the fact that all his blood is cleary in his swollen cock, hot and heavy.

He kisses you again, pants against your chest as he watches between your two bodies as one arm keeps him up, and the other drags the shard of glass below your belly button just hard enough to create a little cut. He just- just wants to be a little closer, you’ll let him, you’ll let him- he’s been so fucking mean to you and if he can just do this, he’ll make it up to you. Specks of blood well up that he swipes his thumb through to slide it into his mouth, get used to the taste of copper on his tongue. Sometimes he bites your lip hard enough to split it, and you tear up and whine, tangle your fingers in his hair.

He could cum on the spot when you yank like that, but the taste now isn’t enough. As he pushes the shard of glass into your skin harder, watching one layer make way for another, tougher tissue that still gives when he grids down a little- he waits for the moment where he feels bad, regrets and walks it all back- but the feeling doesn’t come. Your body looks so pretty like this, robbed of your innocence by his hands; and he doesn’t wanna cum yet, fuck. The adrenaline swimming in his head is pounding too hard to feel anything other than love for you, and the pulling, almost unbearable sensation of wanting to slide back into you. The blood pools around the hole as he slides along, hearing the skin squelch and snap, building a sweat along his neck and collar. Maybe you’d lick it up if you were awake.

The blood runs, covers his entire fist that’s wrapped tight around the glass, it creates little rivers that you’ll both be laying in soon. He coughs, before kissing you below your jaw, feeling the weak pulse beneath his lips— and righting himself to look at his work with a better angle, groaning. There’s both more blood and less than he expected, pooling in your belly button, all over your pretty pussy, his thighs and hands- his cock not yet. He drops the glass aside as he thumbs over the wound and sure enough- he’s cut through fat and muscle and sinew without too much struggle, because you’re soft all over.

He pushes the fleshy gash open more, thumbs over the clean cut he made with a strange sort of fascination before the hot, hot blood gets to be too much for his curiosity and he leans in to lick from your clit up, up, up until his tongue reaches the raised, tight skin— what has he done, what’s he doing, this, this isn’t — he can’t stand the heat that’s coming out of you for long, and it smells, but that isn’t what sticks with him right now. He’s never wanted to be closer. The gaping pouch of your belly’s drooling red for him. The head of his cock twitches when he feels the hot of your stomach coating him in blood, and coating you in turn. The cum from before’s all but washed away, but he’s sure he can give you another couple orgasms before he tuckers out.

He’s strung so high all of this feels like a dream, like his head is about to roll off of his neck; he pushes in with a garbled sort of sound that comes from deep, deep inside him. The skin doesn’t wanna give way at first, but he manages to push back hard enough before suddenly he’s inside, and it’s like nothing else. The pressure of a slab of skin taking him where it’s not meant to go— bleeding and whining out like this, it’s euphoric. He’s able to see his cock’s outline glide into you until it’s bulging your stomach, squelching and sucking him back in; feels like you’re taking him deeper than ever, letting him fuck his cock so deep he’ll hit your ribs soon. You’re so fucking beautiful, even like this, getting coated and letting him fuck it.

He doesn’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re dying, but the peace that washes him entirely clean might be close; he grinds his hips into you hard enough to rock your body under him as he laces your hands again. Both, this time, just chasing after an end that seems like it’ll never come.

He feels infinite. Your blood’s so hot it’s almost painful, and the tightness of the hole he carved into you is entirely different from your pussy, pushing back against him like you’re begging him to get out. He imagines you’d beg so pretty- but he’s inside you, finally inside and deeper than anyone’s ever been. He’s able to watch his cock blow up your belly and make it hollow when he pulls back, and God- he should feel worse than he does. He could swallow you whole if you’d let him. The feeling has him shuddering over you as he pants your name, makes your tits brush over his chest- and his balls smack against the smooth stretch of skin until he can’t feel his feet any longer.

Now he’s got you dirtied, he wants to ruin you too, leave you a mangled mess of flesh and swallow every last bit of you until he never forgets the taste. But that would require he’d stop fucking his hot cock into your bloody, little pouch, and that won’t happen. He’s panting, sweat running down his back from the effort, and his groin starts to feel a little raw too. He might’ve been going for hours by now, licking your mouth clean from his drool only to dirty you again. The head of his cock feels fucked raw inside you, and his thighs shake before his shoulders square over you.

Megumi speeds up his pace fucking into your guts -actually- until he clenches every muscle, is overcome again and reaches heaven inside you, spurting creamy white into the pouch he’s created for himself; “Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck,” his hand has to twist into an uncomfortable position to reach for your clit, but he wildly does it anyway— cramping up, until he’s collapsing on top of you and stilling inside. The stench of blood makes the entire room smell, as he thumbs over the side of your blood-coated thigh with one hand, and feels the shaking all the way up and down his spine. He pulls out so slowly, pumping the last bits of cum out with a throaty moan, before he slides off the table onto awfully shaky legs.

If he was any more lucid, he’d think twice before leaning by your side to kiss your eyes, your nose, your pouty lips as the tears that must’ve been building for a while run down your temple— and suppresses the need to actually eat you- for now, he rubs a softer hand over your exposed tummy, before folding the now blood-drenched fabric of your skirt back down to hide your puffy pussy, lest he be tempted again. He whispers his love into your ears, nuzzles at your hairline until the feeling comes back to his hands and feet and he tucks his spent cock back into his boxers, and goes about cleaning the mess he made of the floor.

It’s only when an uncomfortable scratchy sound comes that he notices the burning heat on his neck, the dried sweat painfully sticky— and straightens up beside you when you start to shake again. Immediately his worry is sky high. Even in the gross air of mixed blood and cum and the scent of sex soaking everything, his mind is just clear enough to hold your head when you thrash around a few times, and your chest rises wildly up and down. Then before his very eyes, the damage he’d done upon you slowly starts to stitch itself together, like weaving threads. Lacing you up until every bit of muscle, fat, and skin restores to it’s pristine glory before he ever touched you, with a little puff of cursed energy.

He bites his lip hard when the shaking stops, and your back lands back onto the metal with a soft clang. The noise is louder now it’s quiet in the room. Megumi waits for a bit longer before he brushes the hair from your face, and doesn't mind it that he’s leaving tracks. The darkness is filled with his tense breathing, and then — every sound at once. Your eyes shoot open with a cry, sobbing out like a baby for a few painful seconds. But then spot him thumbing your tears away devoted like he is -though he won’t admit it to you, and you let out a noise of pure relief.

It’s almost poetic, when you crash back into his arms and this time, he lets your arms wind around his waist.

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[luveline]

I would love the reader flinching during a fight blurb (I think u did it with James and Steve) but with eddie! Only if u want of course

thank u for ur request, hope this is okay, 1k fem!reader

cw mentioned past abuse/abusive situation, please read with care!

Eddie doesn't do anything to provoke your reaction, obviously, and if he did it would've been accidentally. He only raises his voice and puts down his keys too hard at the same time on the table, barely looking at you as the argument reaches a crescendo. 

The sound catches you off guard. Your arms leap in toward your chest and your head turns to the side, defending yourself from a blow that would never come from him. Nausea floods your system, and no sooner have you flinched than you're covering your mouth to smother it. 

"Holy–" Eddie takes a step back initially, but he quickly closes the space between you to take your elbow. You force your arm out of his grip. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?" 

"I thought you were gonna throw your keys at me," you start to explain, reaching for him. "I–"

"I would never do that." 

"I know," you say, blinking and straightening up your hunched back, "that's not– I know you wouldn't, but the noise…" 

"Sorry," he says tightly. 

You take a deep breath and feel embarrassment like a rushing wave hit you, ice cold, your hands covering your face for a moment to get air in right. You peek at him through your fingers. "No, I'm sorry," you say, "what were you saying?" 

"It really doesn't matter. Were you scared of me?" he asks, sounding terrified. 

"No. I mean– I mean," —his expression dampens further at your stammering— "I flinched because it was loud." 

"You said you thought I was going to throw my keys at you–" 

"Because I did think that. It was only for a second." 

"Somebody chucked shit at you enough you started expecting it?" Eddie asks, his terror melded into something much worse. He frowns at you, an imploring pinch to his eyebrows as he rubs your upper arm. 

"Eddie, I don't wanna talk about it." 

"You don't?" he asks. 

"Why would I want to talk about that? It's so fucking embarrassing." 

Eddie takes your arms into both hands gently. "Pause on our fight. Or forget it." He ducks his head to meet your eyes, his lashes like half diamonds, long and dark and emphasising the browned honey colour of his irises. "It's not embarrassing. It's not embarrassing. I'm sorry it felt like I could throw them at you, but I wouldn't." 

"I know." You sound more annoyed than he deserves. 

"Yeah?" he asks gently. 

You try to calm down. Chill out. "I know you wouldn't. It wasn't like that, it's just 'cos we don't fight and it was instinctive. Like a yawn." 

Heartbreak blossoms on his face. You hate it at first, thinking he feels sorry for you, but then things slow. Your heart rate, your adrenaline. For the first time since you started arguing a few minutes ago, breath comes easily to you. Eddie waits for your cue, his hands sliding down to take a loose hold on your fingers. 

It shouldn't be instinctive to expect pain during a verbal disagreement. His face says as much.

"I swear, sweetheart, I wouldn't," he murmurs. 

You start to cry when you realise you believe him. Of course you know he wouldn't, but you could've said that before about someone else. And he's asking you if you wanna talk about it like you should, and you say you don't but of course you do —you want him to tell you it'll never happen again. That it was undeserved. 

Eddie's rough around the edges but his hands are always nice. He sews your fingers between his and squeezes weakly. 

"Somebody threw stuff at you?" he asks, eyes darting down your cheek, following a heavy tear.

"It's okay," you say. 

"I'm supposed to be telling you that. Shit, c'mere." He pulls you in for a hug. "This is okay, right? I don't wanna make you feel worse." 

"It's fine." You sniffle into his shoulder. "It's fine, I don't know why I'm upset." 

"I thought you were gonna throw up, baby. I didn't mean to make you feel like that, I shouldn't have started shouting. I wouldn't have. If I knew, I wouldn't have. I shouldn't have." 

You cling tighter. 

"Sorry," he says, kissing your forehead, his voice all closed up like he's upset. 

You shudder as you inhale, your body's attempt at regulating, and press your nose into his neck until it hurts. If it hurts him, he doesn't say, but you readjust in case it does. 

"What happened?" Eddie asks. 

"It's shitty, Eds. You don't wanna hear it." 

"Yeah, I do. Anything that happened to you that warrants that sort of reaction is something I want to know about, not just 'cos I have tires I need to slash–" He audibly winces. "Or, like, an angry letter to write." 

"You can slash tires. It's not like that, I don't think you're violent, baby." 

"Good. I wanna know what made you feel that way because that's stuff that happened to you, and I love you. I don't want you carrying that by yourself. And," —he drops his cheek toward his shoulder, smiling At you tentatively— "I don't ever wanna make you flinch again." 

"It's not your fault." 

"It's not yours, either. None of that shit was your fault." 

Eddie rubs your back until it feels weird, your skin almost raw under the constant back and forth, but it's a steadying touch that you don't want to go without. You tell him the gist of things without crying anymore, and if you need to do it with your eyes pressed to his shoulder he doesn't say a word. 

He has some assurances to make you. How loved you are. How the last thing in the world you deserved was a raised hand. You've never heard him speak that sincerely for that long, but you need every word. When you think he might get sick of comforting you, he props you on the couch. 

"Tell me if I'm being too much," he says, wrapping you up in a one-sided hug. 

You feel safe and sound under his arm, pressing a kiss to a blown out tattoo. "Not too much," you murmur. 

Eddie pulls your head to his lips for a peck nestled lovingly beside your eyebrow.