#they never fucking tag tws properly

[starrrberry]

.

[hephaestuscrew]

When you listen to the funeral in Boléro when you're 19 and are fairly naïve and have been lucky enough that you've never had a death close to you, you think Hera doesn't understand "why they have to be gone" because she's an AI and she only has 4 years of life experience to go off and it's inevitably difficult for someone without a physical body to conceptualise death. But then you get a little older and things happen and you realise No, that's just what grief is like.

Hera thinks that it doesn't make sense to her because she's missing something, because there's something that her creators didn't put inside her head, or at the very least because she's never experienced that kind of loss before. She thinks there's something that can be explained to her that will make it easier to come to terms with the deaths of people who've been a part of her life. And Eiffel struggles for an answer, or rather a way to explain to her that there is no answer; "Hera, we don't… I don't know that there's… That's not what this -".

The truth is that there's nothing that Hera is missing. What is happening inside her head feels "wrong and stupid and wrong" because that's just how it feels when someone you know dies. That's how the other characters are feeling too, even if they express it differently.

Hera thinks that she feels the way she does because she's experiencing things differently to her human crewmates, but that's not really the case. She's just being the most honest about those feelings.

It's not an artificial intelligence grappling with human situations that she can't understand. It's a person struggling with grief in the way that any human struggles with grief.

Hera's feeling that she doesn't know how to deal with this, her inability to stop thinking about the fact that they're gone, her sense that there must be some set of instructions she wasn't given, her desperation for a way to make it better or easier, her plea for things to somehow make sense… It's all just so incredibly, heart-wrenchingly human and real.

[treesbian]

being mad at my parents for events long passed hours

[vulpinesaint]

STOP cause who was gonna tell me that i was genuinely actually not well my whole teenage years. how did i end up consistently hanging out with the most mentally ill people on planet earth so that i thought i was normal in comparison. "idk i just feel like being hit by a car would fix me. not to die or anything just to feel the impact and get like a physical reset :)" BRACKEN YOU WERE NOT NORMAL

[trashcreatyre]

there’s nothing like making a character extremely tired at all times and even a bit vaguely suicidal only to realize you’ve been projecting your own depression onto the character without realizing

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, yandere, omegaverse, forced bonding, subjugation, some type of discrimination, elements of androgyny

♡ fem reader

Thinking about the big and burly behemoth Omega finally finding himself the cutest little Alpha to breed with…

He could never bring himself to breed with Alphas. Growing up, he developed a great disdain for them—all high and mighty rabid animals prone to violence, more often than not completely dimwitted to top it off, as if their massive ego had usurped the place of basic brain operation.

He couldn’t hate them more, yet he doesn’t correct anyone when they mistake him for one, either. In many ways, he wished he was born one instead of an Omega. It would make it easier to fulfill his desires that way. A dominant Omega isn’t all that normal, after all—and submissive Alphas are an even rarer breed to come by.

He hadn't found one yet. And other Omegas don’t really do it for him. They approach him, thinking he’s an Alpha, then feel disappointed when figuring out he’s not—which is fine, as he isn’t particularly interested in their scent either. Betas make for an okay compromise—they don’t care if he’s an Omega, it makes no difference to them—yet he could never really shake the feeling that something was missing when lying with them.

At the office, the scent of Alphas plagues him all day—how they strut around, stinking up the place with no concern for anyone else. This is a workplace, for fuck’s sake—can’t they have a little dignity and not treat it like a mating ground? He really hates them. All bigheaded assholes—

“Ow—” there’s bark and a hard thunk of something hitting the floor.

Someone just bumped into him—someone so small he hadn’t even seen them over the top of his clipboard. Looking down, he sees a fellow Omega—a pretty one. You must be as disoriented by the scent around you as he is—probably why you walked right into him—poor thing. He ought to help you up.

You hold your head in your hand, wincing at the sting of your rear—you’d fallen right on your tailbone. Looking up, you give the fellow Alpha who’d knocked you down a mean glare, “What the hell, asshole!”

His outstretched hand stiffens midway. That’s not a very Omega-like thing to say—especially not by one so small as you. No, wait… what’s that scent?

You ignore his hand and get up on your own, dusting down your pin-stripes with angry brushes—face pursed, almost pouty, but not quite, too stink-eyed as you lean in and jab a finger into his chest to punctuate your words, “Watch where you’re going next time, you…”

You soften up halfway through the sentence. It must have dawned on you as well. His scent. Not like other Alphas, but something else entirely—something that suddenly makes you blush all over, wide-eyed.

You don’t say another word, only giving a weak huff before turning tail and stomping away.

There’s something very cute about it—he’s left thinking while watching you, utterly stunned and still, replaying the events that just occurred over and over in his head—wondering how he’d never seen you before. You must work on a different floor.

Luckily, he’d made sure to read your name tag—pinned all properly on your chest like a badge of honor, neatly like the rest of you. Well put together from the top of your salon-styled hair down to the tips of your pointy black stilettos. Even with their added height, you must have been two heads shorter than him—no taller than any regular Omega.

It's no wonder he mistook you for one. You were as cute as one, too—like a doll he could put behind glass, up on a mantle, and keep forever. But oh my… that mouth on you and that awful snarl. Just like any other imposing Alpha, he supposed. Bratty and arrogant, quick to jump the gun and pick a fight instead of taking it for the simple accident it was.

He goes back and sets himself down by his desk—but he’s way too distracted to work now, too busy with the thought of you. That flushed face you showed him before teetering off was something he wouldn’t mind seeing again—also that cute scowl under certain circumstances and what type of expression you’d give him if he wiped it off.

He's lucky an office party came along so quickly. He wouldn’t usually go, but now he had a reason. He bet you’d be there—the way you were dressed when you’d bumped into him tells him you’re one to respect the memo—head to toe in such a neat suit, trying to come off as androgynous as if in desperation needing everyone to know you were an Alpha. It must be hard for you—looking like that but wanting to look… well, suppose more like him.

He's glad he never felt that way—wishing to be smaller and cuter like other Omegas. Sure, he’s been envious of them at times, but more so of their easy pickings and not their appearance. He’s happy being bigger and stronger—it keeps unwanted attention at bay. You probably struggle to do the same. He bets you get a lot of the wrong eyes following you. Yeah… you must attract the bad sort all the time—alphas swarming you only to catch your scent and lose interest. Or maybe not… Alphas are sick, after all. Come to think of it, most of them would probably get off on dominating another Alpha. In that regard, it must have been worse for you than for him. Luckily, both of your issues are now solved.

He wondered what you’d wear tonight. You’d look much better in something feminine and not that suit you’d been wearing. He hopes, but no, you’re wearing much the same thing—another tailored two-piece that all but drowns you.

He understands what you’re going for. You have to dress like that, or else what Omega would ever want you looking the way you do? Aside from him, of course.

No matter. When you move in with him, he’ll dress you in all the pretty things he knows you want to wear. After all, pretty colors, ruffles, and lace will suit you so much better.

“Hello again.” He approaches you by the hors d’oeuvres even after you’d visibly and explicitly chosen to ignore him.

You groan under your breath, responding without even bothering to look at him, “Do I know you?”

Your tough act is cute. He has to withhold a chuckle before answering, “Don’t remember? You called me an asshole a week ago.”

“You walked right into me, so it’s not like it wasn’t deserved.”

You have to love that arrogance—that air of unfounded superiority. He wonders, where do you keep it all? “Well, how could I not? You’re so small I didn’t even see you.”

You’re quick to bare your teeth—obviously, he hit a nerve—showing him that same snarl you’d done back then. Cute little canines—he bet they won’t even hurt going into his neck once you mark him.

“Watch your mouth, Omega.”

Still, with a small smile, he feigns surprise. “Wow—are you an Alpha? Funny, I didn’t know they came in such tiny packages.”

It flusters you, no doubt—your brows lowered into a full glower now. “And I didn’t know Omegas could be so rude.”

You turn to stomp again, as you’d done before—though this time, he grabs your arm before you’re gone.

You whip around with another bark, “Hands off—"

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes unexpectedly, giving you puppy-dog eyes you hadn’t thought him capable of. “I should have been more mindful of my steps. It was entirely my fault.”

You go still at the sudden show of humility and respect. Finding yourself softening by the tilt of his head, bowing at you in acknowledgment of your higher standing. Not that many bother doing that to you—between mistaking you for an Omega or otherwise neglecting your standing as an Alpha, both due to your physique. Seeing it up close and so abruptly flusters you.

“Let me get you a drink to make up for it?” he offers politely, almost in plead.

Struck with feelings of somewhat regret for your own uncouth attitude, you nearly accept on a whim. “That’s kind…” But then think it over. You don’t really want to lead him on, either. You nearly stutter, yet steal yourself. After all… “But you’re not really my type.”

He hangs his head with a dejected sigh, “That’s harsh.” But he’d already figured as much and didn’t really care. Giving you his most sorry grin, he insists, “Humor me anyway? Just one drink so I don’t feel like an asshole for the rest of my life.”

It’s clear you want to refuse—still, as suspected, your heart just can’t handle seeing a desperate Omega in need. Bless your dim Alpha instincts.

“Okay, fine. One drink, that’s all,” you end up agreeing. One drink can’t hurt, right?

You feel like a good Samaritan once the big hunk of an Omega runs off to fetch you a glass. Pitying him or even sympathizing, maybe—it can’t be easy for an Omega in the mating scene to look like that. No Alpha around would want an Omega bigger than them—it’s utterly emasculating, not to mention unnatural.

Of course, you’re aware you’re in much the same shoes as him—you’re not delusional. Only, it’s easy being an independent Alpha—you don’t mind being a lone wolf in the world—but Omegas were built to be domestic. So yeah, you pity him—the poor guy, he’ll probably never find a proper mate.

But you can’t let your pity grant him too many favors—you have no intention of taking on any charity case tonight, especially not a pity fuck. You’ll have one drink with him as a mutual apology. That’s all.

Luckily… one drink is all he needs. Add a little sprinkle of this and that in your glass, and you’re already in the palm of his hand.

He has to carry you bridal style before he’s even managed to lead you to the elevator—it’s empty all the way down to the garage. He puts you in his car, locks your seatbelt in place, then drives off. It’s honestly quite astounding how easy it had been. He’d thought trapping an Alpha would be a much more remarkable feat, an impossible one for an Omega—but this was no different from eating an unguarded piece of cake.

You’re drowsy as he carries you into his apartment. And that’s when the other drug kicks in. The overwhelming scent of being inside his nest sets off your rut like a matchstick being ripped along the red.

Your claws come out, puncturing his sheets as he lays you down on his bed.

You’re too delirious to do much but writhe—making it easy for him to unbutton your dress shirt, followed by your slacks. He has to scoff at your plain black boxers and binder bra. You poor thing, always trying to run with the big dogs when you’re no bigger than a bite-sized puppy. From now on, you’ll only wear lacey things he brings home for you. You won’t have to puff your chest—you can be as sweet and pretty as your delicate physique constitutes—his cutest, littlest, most perfect mate.

You gain newfound strength once he’s peeled your underwear down, baring your needy heat to his touch. Instantly, your arms spring into action, flinging themselves around him, pouncing like a predator at its prey with your fangs bared.

He stops you easily—placing his wrist between your teeth, using it as a muzzle. He chuckles, looking at you gnaw on it like a bone.

“I think the world has it all wrong,” he starts, though he’s not sure you’re even capable of understanding speech in your state. “Omegas are the ones better suited as leaders of society, not Alphas.”

As he talks, he continues with his ministrations, stroking your needy slit with a mean finger, swiping it cruelly before splitting between the folds.

“I mean, look at you—mindless in a rut, willing to pounce on anything that moves—like a wild animal.” Once he sticks his finger inside you, your teeth do his wrist the same justice—drawing blood, making him hiss through his smile, “I ought to keep you in a cage.” And yet he doesn’t pull either hand away. “It would suit you well—on your knees with a pretty leash and collar upon your throat.”

You’re wet in his hand—soaked and so warm he loses track of his own finger as if melting within you. His cock strains against his boxer, wanting to feel it for himself. But you’re still way too tight for that.

He feeds you another digit, and you moan—suckling on his wrist now more than biting, though still with your canines out and seeking.

“Look at these wittle teeth, tch—” he grins upon closer inspection, looking between them and your eyes—pupil-fat orbs, far gone in your instincts. “I bet they’re just itching for my neck instead, huh?”

The provocation seems to make you more desperate. Pumping you slowly, more so to stretch you out than stimulate, he can feel your breaths turn thicker with need, how you press your tongue against his wrist, wet and lousy, wanting for more.

“Well, go on then, Alpha...” He chuckles again, removing his arm from barring your mouth before wrapping your throat with the same hand, holding it like a collar, keeping you under control.

And then he bares his neck for you.

“I give my consent.”

♡ part two

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Hawks, Amajiki ♡ JJK – Gojo, Geto ♡ HQ – Kuro, Oikawa, Miya twins, Tendou ♡ BLLK – Reo, Nagi, Bachira, Isagi ♡ DS – Doma ♡ WB – Suo, Togame

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[all-about-gw]

not even about my ed or idk meanspo or idk what just logic that i want to scream at myself that hey hey if you eat shitty snacks you’re gonna feel shitty hey maybe don’t binge on a bag of chips and then fries and then ice cream you’re going to feel shitty it’s really not about restricting or not allowing myself any junk food ever but fucking this is not what you usually eat you can’t become a mindless vacuum you will feel physically shit

[gyuwoncheol]

Seungcheol is the embodiment of that “when I tell you to sit on my face don’t just hover, f’ing sit on it” quote you can’t convince me otherwise ☺️

TW: oral sex (f. receiving), face sitting, pussy drunk! Cheol, dirty talk, use of pet names. 18+ only (MDNI).

Note: Anon, what have u done.

Tagging @multi-kpop-fanfics because i definitely was not plotting (luv u 😘)

“Princess, sit down.”

“I am!” You argue back, looking down at the face sandwiched in between your legs. Seungcheol’s blonde locks were sticking out in awkward places, his lips puffy from all the making out and pupils blown out it was almost all black.

“No, you’re not. You’re hovering!” He stated matter of factly. His large hands came to wrap around your things before pulling you down closer to his mouth but you resisted, anchoring yourself on the headboard.

Cheol’s never asked you to do this and when he mentioned it in the heat of the moment, you breathlessly said yes, but now that you’re actually here, you’re almost sure you’re going to suffocate him.

“Fuck,” you sucked in a deep breath when his wet tongue licked a bold stripe from your hole to your clit, making the filthiest slurping sound known to mankind.

“Feel good, baby?” You nodded with eyes shut, “it’ll feel even better if you just. sit. down. properly,” your boyfriend fought, annoyance in his tone.

“Cheol!” You shrieked when you felt your pussy envelope his mouth fully, lifting yourself up in haste but to no avail, “what if I suffocate you and you die?!”

A drunken smile graced your boyfriend’s features, “then that’s the best way to go.”

“Choi Seungcheol! I am serious! I don’t want to kill you!”

“And I’m fucking serious too! You won’t kill me, trust me okay?” There was a momentary look of softness and assurance on his face, letting you know he knew what he was doing and he wouldn’t let anything bad happen. But that look quickly morphed back to a scheming one, complete with an eyebrow raised at you. “Now, sit the fuck down, or I will tie your hands behind your back.”

[animeyanderelover]

Can I ask this for Kaneki, Ayato, from TG and Sukuna (+some other characters of JJK)?

I’ve read your reply about wanting PM and ADA Dazai also added in here and it doesn’t count as a second request.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, clinginess, manipulation, paranoia, stalking, sadism, abduction, death

Tags: @flaming-vulpix @shumidehiro @leveyani @izanami78 @lovley-valentine7

S/o has a tattoo of the name of their ex

Kaneki Ken

🔲​You would have never told Kaneki about the tattoo that decorates your back even if you would have known him before he abducted you. There is no need for you to even attempt to hide it from him as the ghoul finds out anyways. He is a rather devoted stalker, all the time on edge out of worry that something may happen to you if he isn't watching you. It is to be expected that he at one point catches a glimpse of the tattoo on your back, though he didn't mean to peek when you were undressing yet he doesn't avert his gaze quick enough to avoid catching a glimpse of the name you have written on your back. All effort to be polite by looking away is instantly wiped from his mind as his eyes are glued to the tattoo on your back. What-what is that? Whose name is that? His throat tightens as the air he breathes in suddenly seems to have a new weight to it, his chest heaving as he is unable to tear his gaze away from the black ink etched on your back.

🔲​That tattoo becomes one of the biggest sources of insecurity for Kaneki and he is unable to get it out of his mind, constantly envisioning that name. He can already imagine whose name it might be but he is terrified to ask you and confirm his suspicions as soon as he has abducted you. The question often lingers on the tip of his tongue yet it becomes lead the moment he attempts to vocalise the words. It doesn't fly over your head how he constantly stares at your back with that queasy gleam in his eyes, knowing exactly what is beneath your shirt. It is when he sees the sight of it again by accident that he snaps and breaks down. Tears stream down his face, his lips wobble and fingers dig into your flesh painfully as he asks you with a trembling voice to whom that name belongs. He has always feared your answer yet not even his worst imagination could have prepared him for the feeling of his heart being crushed when you fearfully confess that it is the name of your ex. He isn't able to look at your back properly anymore from that day on without breaking down again. You'd probably never be able to love him the same way, right? Of course not... He's absolutely despicable.

Kirishima Ayato

🌌​It's quite difficult for Ayato to come to term with the fact that he has fallen in love with the very thing he has despised his entire life. He's always loathed humans for fearing and hunting down his own kind and he has gladly slaughtered your kind without feeling any lingering remorse yet now he's got you. You exhibit the same fear as soon as he has abducted you and it only fuels his anger. Your kind really just can't stop judging and hating his kind, can't you? He's very rough with you and no matter what you do it only seems to get on his nerves. During one particularly frightening argument where you try to run away he accidentally rips your shirt apart when he yanks you back, revealing the tattoo written on your shoulder blade to him. You cower on the ground as you expect screaming yet nothing ever happens. You dare to turn your head around to look at him with teary eyes only to feel your heart stopping when you see his activated Kakugan as he stares at the tattoo. What...the fuck is this?

🌌​You're subjected to a bitter anger from that day on as Ayato actively degrades you for the tattoo. You really are pathetic, you know? Who is dumb enough to let a name of their lover to be engraved on their skin? Especially since that person isn't even with you anymore. He always barks at you to cover up that tattoo to spare him the disgusting sight as seeing the black ink always triggers him to be thrown into a whirlwind of emotions. There's a deep hatred for the person who made you stupid enough to make this decision and he considers if he should perhaps question you where they live so he can just murder them to vent out some of the seething anger inside of him. Maybe he'll just do it but before that the abomination on your skin has to be gone. His angered sadism might get the better of him as the threat for him to bite the spot and rip a portion of your skin and flesh out of you is a chance though he wouldn't swallow the gross skin of yours where their name is written on.

Pm! Dazai Osamu

🤎​A sickly sweet facade to lure you closer to him only for him to eventually reveal his venomous fangs to you and unleash his inner beast on you. That is Dazai from the Port Mafia for you. As soon as he has you where he wants you to be he will expose his everything to you and his darkness threatens to swallow you whole. Hot and harsh kisses are what you remember on that night as his fingers dig painfully into your skin, brown eyes gleaming with the devil's look as he takes in the sight of your tears as you feel your clothes slowly being removed. And then all of it stops. Fearful confusion twists your intestines as you gather the shaky courage to open your eyes only to see his face void of any emotions, his eyes focused on the inside of your thighs. It takes you a few seconds to piece everything together as your mind is slowed down due to the overwhelimg fear. Only then do you realise with a hitch of your breath that he must have discovered your tattoo, hidden down there. It is the audible stutter of your breath that has those terrifying orbs snap up to your face, a dark look on his face as he asks you slowly what that tattoo symbolises.

🤎​The following days after he has discovered your little secret he leaves you dangling over the abyss. You're thoroughly shaken up as you estimate this to be his intended calm before the storm where he leaves your mind and heart quivering with fear. All for this one moment so indescribably horrifying that no words could explain it as he escorts you to a basement only for you to be met with the sight of your half-dead ex. A gun is pushed into your palm as he guides your arm so that the weapon is pointed at your ex, his voice whispering into your ear to shoot. You're frozen in fear as Dazai uses you like a puppet, his fingers guiding yours to push the trigger one time, two times, three times... Even after your ex has died he forces you to keep shooting until you are out of bullets. You sink to your knees as soon as he removes himself from you, your mind still in shambles as it tries to catch up with what just happened before you hear the rattling of chains, your gaze slowly moving up only to see Dazai giving you a lopsided grin with chains, tattoo needles and a knife in his hands. Be sweet for him whilst he's going to correct your tattoo. After all you love being branded by the person who currently owns you, don't you?

ADA! Dazai Osamu

🤎​Dazai is already well acquainted with the unsavory fact that you had someone you used to call his lover before him but as petty as he is, he has stayed away from them because he also knows that you have broken off contact with them and they have done the same. Aah~ What wonderful opportunity to swoop in and mend the broken heart of a damsel in distress. Now that they are gone from your life he can claim your heart and your love for himself. If there is one thing he can do wonderfully it is knowing how to attach himself to your hips as he swoons over you and dotes on you. All of those sweet feelings are temporarily shattered the moment he catches a glimpse of your tattoo, the name spelled out on your shoulder. A sudden lump forms in his throat as he stares oddly at the tattoo until your voice brings him back to reality and he musters a wry grin as he apologises for spacing out there. You have noticed what he has spotted though and admit to him nonchalantly that this is the name of your ex.

🤎​It is from that moment on that Dazai starts focusing more on that ex of yours as it is a hard knowledge for him to digest that at one point you were so madly in love with them that you tainted your pretty skin with their ugly name. Pettiness and jealousy can truly do wonders as Dazai resents them, envies them for the fact that you once held so much affection for them that you tattooed their name on your shoulder. He starts subtly questioning you about them as he wants to ensure that you truly do not have any affection left for them and he might even be motivated enough to pay that ex of yours a visit to have a polite talk with them to ensure that they never think of contacting you again either. He truly loathes that tattoo but he hides it behind silly reactions as good as he can though he is wondering when exactly you plan to get rid of that name. After all they aren't even your lover anymore. You do not hold any lingering affection for them still, do you? That would be a bit troublesome after all.

Ryomen Sukuna

🗾​In Sukuna's eyes you are utterly his. He is the King who takes what he desires and no one dares to subject, not even you after you have learnt your place. After all you should know that you will never be an equal to him and should instead be grateful that he allows you to be so close to him in the first place. You'll never regret the day you made the decision to engrave the name of your now ex-lover onto your skin as much as the moment where Sukuna spots the black ink on the back of your neck. One of his arms effortlessly keeps you in place by wrapping itself around your waist whilst another hand of his grabs the back of your head and pushes it down, forcing you to tilt your head as he observes the tattoo on your skin. Nothing but silence follows for a few moments where he keeps your head in that uncomfortable position and you feel blood rushing to your brain as the atmosphere grows heavier, causing your stomach to churn anxiously as the curse lets you bathe in your own anxiety before he asks you with only a mild hint of displeasure in his tone who that person is. Surely they must be quite important for you to have a tattoo of their name on your skin.

🗾​You shouldn't keep secrets from him, little mortal. He's your owner now so if his belonging has been spoiled before he must know of it. A sadistic grin soon finds its way on his face as he lets go of you and asks you if you'd like for him to serve you their head to truly help you realise how pathetic their human life was and, by extension, how pathetic you were for ever thinking it'd be a good idea to get inked with their name. If you love being branded by your current owner so much you should have just told him so from the beginning. He relishes in the sight of seeing you cower beneath his form as you are barely able to look up at him. Now, now, there is no need to be so skittish. He'll even be kind enough to let you choose. Would you prefer for him to slaughter that paltry former companion of yours first or would you prefer for him to erase their mark on you and give you a new brand which will claim you as his first? Flames appear on the tips of his fingers, only adding to the wriggling terror deep within your soul as he looks down at you. Hurry and make your decision or else he'll decide for you.

Nanami Kento

💛​Nanami takes his time to properly court you and get to know you. Even though he knows of his own obsession he prefers to do things the proper way instead of doing it half-heartedly. You inform him quite early on that you used to be in a relationship but had to break things off since it just didn't work anymore and he respects that. What you did not tell him though is that their name is still decorating your ankle, something that Nanami has the displeasure to discover all by himself. There is only a short flicker of disappointment in his eyes before he puts on a poker face to hide all of his displeased feelings for the moment, his eyes finding yours as the unspoken question lingers in the room. The frustration on your face is quite visible as well as the slice of embarrassment. So you deliberately chose to not tell him about this. He must say that this does disappoint him a bit even if he understands that this is probably a bit of a difficult topic to talk about, especially considering that you aren't even together with the very person whose name is tattooed on your ankle.

💛​It is safe to say that he would prefer for you to get that tattoo removed. It would be quite awkward for him to be your new partner all whilst you have the name of your ex inked on your skin. He'll even take over all the costs that would come with the tattoo removal. Surely you'd agree to his offer, won't you? If you were to give him signs of hesitation he would have to assume that maybe there are still lingering feelings for your ex, something he cannot tolerate. Perhaps he should get acquainted with your ex after all even if he is confident that it won't be a pleasant experience to figure out how their feelings are in regards to you. In the meantime he will slowly change your mind so that you agree with his suggestion. His arguments are logical as he is dismissing any lingering feelings of yours, especially since you and your ex broke things off quite some time ago. Any chance for you to get in contact with them again will be taken care off by him secretly as that ex of yours is luckily civilised enough to understand the message as soon as Nanami meets them privately as he clarifies to them what kind of relationship he has with you.

[a-hazbin-reader]

I don’t know if you’re taking requests but if you are can you do a Alastor x reader where reader had a hopper focus on Alastors life as a killer and such and when they die they go to hell and they meet al and they are like fanning out over him and Alastor is kind happy about it and reader is like talking about how they listen to his radio shows on repeat it can be romantic or platonic or be read as ether I don’t mind (:

I love this idea so much! Just two unhinged demons feeding off each other's energy~

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

❌️Romantic

✅️Platonic

TW: Murder, Obsession

Description: ⬆️👆

My snookums

Alastor couldn't even try to be humble about it, soaking up all of your attention and praise with a prideful aura

Husk is so fucking done. He needs a drink

Ngl tho-

He is genuinely mystified and curious as to how you found him out, both in life and death

He was so careful???? The police never found him out so how did some chump fan figure out that he was a serial killer???

Guess he was lucky that you turned out to be a fan and not a snitch

I mean- his handiwork is always beautiful so maybe that's what gave him away

Yeah sure

And then you figure out his identity in HELL and still follow his life like he's a celebrity??

You're making him blush~ Stop it, you~

You know things about him that he himself had forgotten, his earlier days of scrambling for power, his first battles and victories

PLUS you listened to all his radio shows???

Not only are you some sort of genius but you also have great taste 👌

He at least has the decency to blush a little while you fangirl over him and babble about how amazing he is

It's just so good to be properly appreciated

Everyone SHUT UP Y/N is TALKING don't be RUDE

Okay now Vaggie is out

Oh do go on~ He wants to hear more from you~

Would love to hear your early theories about when he was a serial killer, the steps you took to finding him out and what final clue gave him away

Go onnnnnn

Sips tea and kicks his feet when you get to the start of his early afterlife and you begin to figure out who he used to be

Keep goinggggggggg

Is nearly shaking with excitement when you start to theorize where he went for 7 years, nobody has ever granted him this much time and attention

YES

Neither confirms or denies the last part but happily invites you to tag along with him more often

Will literally bring you to places with him just so you can tell everyone around you how amazing he is

What can he say, he likes your style 😉

I hope you liked it 😘

[gremlingottoosilly]

[If you need to be mean] chapter 7

You are trying to think about future with Konig TW for the work: Konig being a huge pervert, Canon-Typical violence, Dub-Con, Innocence kink, Age difference(Konig in his yearly 40, Reader in her early 20)

Pairing: Konig x fem!Reader Tags: Fluff, Power Imbalance, Hurt/Comfort, Size Kink, Possessive Konig, Yandere Konig, Creepy scary stalker Konig, written mostly from Konig's perspective TW for this chapter: kidnapping

Chapter Text

He fixed the sink. 

It’s so dumb actually, even to think about it – pun not intended, you are not happy or energetic enough to ever attempt puns right now, not in your drained emotional state. He came to your house, uninvited as always – you thought about giving him a spare key just so he would stop barging inside at every giving moment, but then understood that it would only make matters worse – it would feel like you are inviting him. Like you’re okay with him being here, invading your space just like a foreign soldier he is. 

You stare at the sink – and it’s in perfect condition. No water droplets splashing from various screws, no rust on the metal – it looks like it just got out of the store, and it was never that perfect even when you first moved into this apartment. 

He didn’t even say anything about it – you don’t even remember him coming to your apartment with a bunch of instruments, with anything that can help a grown-up man burst into the apartment of his so-called girlfriend so he could fix her sink without her knowing. 

It’s nice of him, you think. You can wash your hands and brush your teeth without water spilling everywhere, and you don’t have to worry about mold slowly building inside the narrow space of your bathroom. You can even place some of the expensive skin care he bought on the ceramic surface without feeling disgusted every time you touch the white material. You don’t even use that much skincare, you don’t know why he bought it and where he got it. Quite frankly, judging by his ever-cold stare and complete emotional absence of everything connected to the gifts, you think he doesn’t know why he gives you so much either. 

Maybe, he thinks that your relationships are purely transactional. Maybe he always wanted a sugar baby but was too busy to get a specific one. Maybe he is so hideous under his hood, that the only way he knows how to get women is through gifts. 

You don’t even want to like him, you are always on the receiving end of his affection, almost never initiating anything. He is too hot to handle – not in a good way. Being nice to him feels like being nice to a stray dog - thin, malnourished, that type who would return to you even after a few good kicks in the curb. He is attached to you like hot glue and you can’t get him off without breaking the skin – and you are scared of him almost as much as your body is attracted to him. There is something nice about allowing him to love you – even though you feel like he is simply too fucking damaged to love properly. 

But he fixed your sink, he gave you a bunch of gifts and he gently advances over you without feeling overbearing. You don’t know how much you could bear without him wanting to actually put something in you, besides his fingers and various dry-humping sessions but, at least for now, he feels safe. 

König leaves you money in places you are not looking at first – almost like he is ashamed of paying you. Acknowledging how artificial your “relationships” are too much for him, but he still wants you to feel the best life possible. He is soft, and gentle with you, almost too much – even though you have various bruises when his grasp became too much on the softness of your limbs. 

Dating him – as much as you couldn’t even call it dating, more like receiving his advances and accepting the way he likes you like an obedient dog – made you actually read the news. Carefully watch through the reports, seeing all the accomplishments this small army is receiving here – how mercs are saving you, helping you, being a bunch of fucking saints even though their commander spends too many hours harassing an adorable little civilian in her house, doing nothing but making you hot and bothered and uncomfortable at the same time. 

You want him to leave. 

You want him to stay here, with you. 

He fixed your sink and now you can do your skincare routine with actual time put in. Everything that stands on the white ceramic is bought by him and you would rather throw up than rely so much on someone you don’t really know, but you don’t have a choice. The cafe is closed, and every other job opportunity is either worse or not going to make any difference in your situation – and with how often König shows up, demanding attention and immediate acceptance of his gifts, you don’t want to know what he will do if he finds out you are trying to run away from him again. 

You don’t anymore, of course. You’re a smart girl, you’re a good girl, the best ever. You don’t understand your own feelings, nothing you experience feels right, but you do know that having him around is comfortable. It’s nice, really, you want to like him so much, but you are too tired to feel anymore. Luckily, his feelings are intense enough not to demand anything from you – his love is big enough for the two of you. 

— Why are you so quiet, Schatz? 

He hugs you from behind, hands on your waist pulling you closer to him. He is warm, body temperature is almost unhealthily hot. In full gear, as always, you never ever saw him without it – even when you’re more intimate together, the only thing you can see is either the lower half of his face, scars on his mouth, and clearly shaved jaw with multiple razor cuts, or his dick – and you prefer not to look at it. 

— You fixed my sink. When? 

Hands are keeping you securely in place, not allowing you to move even for an inch. He isn’t wandering, at least, not leaning under your clothes. You’d feel ashamed for wearing washed-put shorts and some weird T-shirt you pulled out of the laundry, but you don’t want to turn each of his visits into a special occasion, especially considering how chaotic it is. You want to wear that really nice lingerie he brought to you – all soft and expensive fabrics, laces, and too much open skin – but you are too creeped out by the fact that he knows your exact size. At least with homely clothes, you don’t have to worry about being too seductive, too inviting and provocative. 

His hands are still squeezing and playing with your tummy. It feels like he relishes in every aspect of your body, no matter how perfect or imperfect it is – and his touches, hungry and almost agonizing in their desperation and greediness, are flattering. You never had anyone so utterly into you – never had any romantic partner who would treat you like their greatest possession. You want to feel like a real person, not just a romantic interest or object of obsession, but…god, his hands are warm and he treats you right and the loneliness of your life is worse than anything you could handle. 

— Few days ago. Had free time after a mission. 

He has an awful lot of free time for someone his rank. Sometimes he disappears for a few days straight and comes back only to be even more hungry with your body. He never spends the night, but always finds some time to burst into your apartment, look at what else he can change to make your life a bit easier – he broke one of your favorite tea cups and bought you a set of new ones, he threw away every old dish plate you had from the previous tenant and bought you a bunch of shiny silvery ones – things that made you feel even worse about yourself because oh god, why do you need to rely on him to but you the most basic fucking stuff. 

— You shouldn’t have done it. I can take care of it. 

Your mouth tells lies that even you don’t believe in. 

— It was leaking. Wanted to do something nice for you, Liebe. 

My love – you read the translations of a few phrases he is using towards you. German is hard and unforgiving, you are screaming at that damn owl for fucking up your pronunciation again as you desperately try to find something to fill your day without a job or worries about money. You are going to the store multiple times a day, buying milk, cookies and salt – all separately, just to do something. It fells like lockdown again, a desperate attempt not to go crazy by being stuck in 4 walls. 

You think – this is what drives housewives from American sitcoms to use recreational drugs and too many antidepressants. 

König thinks – you look so perfect like this. Almost like his perfect little housewife, hands are clinging to the kitchen counter and eyes desperately darting from side to side. He can practically smell your fear and it makes him go feral – he was a good fucking person, his mutter taight him to be a good boy and his father beated how a real man should behave into him. Yet he relishes in the fact that his weak, fragile girlfriend is shaking in his hold, like a kitten almost. He wants you to feel safe with him, but…well, he can indulge in himself a bit. After all, he does sacrifices everything for his service, right? And deserves a bit of pleasure after a hard day of killing terrorists. 

— Thank you, but…please, tell me before you are doing anything in my apartment. I would have just called my landlord. 

You wouldn’t because even when all of your rent debts is paid off and you don’t have anything else that you owe to the owner of the apartment, you still don’t have to see her disappointed and angry face. You had this leaking sin for three months already and just started to live around it – it was normal, there was some comfort in that brokenness. Now there isn’t one, and you just feel guilty for being scared of a man just because he probably stole your second set of keys and decided to fix it.

— When we’ll move to our own home, you won’t have to worry about asking permission from some Arschloch. You could change the sink or a couch every other day if you want to. 

“When we’ll move to our own home”

Such a simple phrase, really. König’s hands are slowly caressing your lower tummy, his erection already thrists into your ass through the fabric of your shorts and you immediately feel the heat rising in your body. You might not understand if you like him or not, but your body certainly craves his touch – craves the comfort and pleasure that being his provides. 

Such a simple phrase that fills you with dread. Living with him, under one roof – living in his country even though you never been to Austria and can barely learn the language. Living with him even though you don’t know what to answer if someone asks you about your relationship. 

Such a simple phrase that König wants to turn into reality. You, barefoot because of course he would build a house with floor heating, he won’t have his wife slipping on some slippers while he is away and hurting herself, in the kitchen that he would made for your desires and height – he isn’t much for cooking and if you are not also, he’d search for a housekeeper – looking at some weird Austrian dish that you can made for him when he comes home. Perfect family, just like his mother told him he has to make – just like his father was never able to. 

He is a simple man and if you won’t want to play along with his little housewife fantasy then, well, you’d have to eventually. König hates the thought of hurting you – but he also hates a lot of things about himself and a bit of pain won’t add to much. He could handle you being upset, easily. He could handle whatever you’d throw at him – literally. 

— I don’t think I can move in with you. 

— Why? 

— I’m not even Austrian. Don’t think I can just go and live in your country like this. 

— You can get a visa through marriage. It would be easy, soldiers have privileges. 

He still was a part of Austrian special forces – even if his service was long ago paid to KorTac, it doesn’t mean that he just gave away all of his documents and privileges that it gave him. There are a bit of things he can do without looking at the law too much – and giving you proper citizenship is one of them. 

Of course, it would also mean you can’t possibly leave him without destroying your new life once again, but…he likes it as a feature. Insurance that you won’t just run away as soon as the opportunity strikes. 

— Marriage is too fast, no? I mean…

— You don’t want to be with me! — No. Yes. I…I mean, we can’t get married right now. 

— We are not doing it right now, Schatz. I still yet to find a good ring around here. 

— I don’t want a ring. I…I can’t marry you, even in a couple of months! We barely know each other, we…we talked about it, you promised that we would go slow…

Oh. 

And now you’re crying in his hold, tears smearing your face as you are trying to make him let go of you. He can’t have that, he won’t have that – he just got out of his office. countless hours spent in searching for the biggest hideout in this city. Horangi fed him with reports of various sightings, Hutch is already halfway on breaking another data package they got from the last mission and, if anything, it felt like another week or two in here – and he could finally get that sweet, sweet leave. 

Come to think of it, he hadn’t had any breaks in a year already – only a week when he got shot in the side and spent a couple of days laying in the medical, still screaming at the recruits for being so fucking unprofessional – so much, in fact, that he had to get out of the bed early and spend two weeks as an instructor for any of those useless fuckers. Maybe, after this mission, he could take a month or so off – just so he could spend more time with you. Honeymoon and a future wedding do sound fun if he could make you come around before the end of his deployment here. He wouldn’t want to kidnap his future wife like some asshole, after all. 

— How slow do you want me to go, meine Mädchen? 

There isn’t a right answer to this question. He doesn’t ask whether or not you even want to marry him – just when. Your perfect answer would be no, I don’t know, give me a break and let me figure myself out for at least a dozen months so you could come to your senses and move to some distant country on the other side of the globe. 

But he holds you close, his erection is mere inches away from penetrating your body – he is grinding into your ass shamelessly, using the softness of your thighs as his own sex toy – and your mind becomes dizzy. Every time he touches you, his fingers trail on your delicate skin, and you feel dumb. No thought, head empty, only desire to back your hips against his crotch and move a little. 

— I don’t know. Just not…not like this. 

— Then like what? How long should I wait? 

A month won’t be enough. 

Even half a year won’t be enough to process your feelings. 

— I don’t know. 

You want to say yes, but you don’t want to be the one to decide. Having responsibility is too much, and being the one in charge of yourself isn’t something you really want. Maybe, you should just agree. Maybe, you don’t have enough energy to process this. 

— We don’t have much time here, Liebe. I’m not supposed to tell you this, but…

His hands are gripping you even closer – his fingers are shaking almost, and you’re scared of seeing this man being so weak for you, but there isn’t anything you can do to help him. Your fingers are softly caressing his – you doubt that he can feel much under his gloves, but you want to be at least attentive. You don’t want him to feel bad, to think that you are ungrateful for everything he has done to help you. Maybe you’re afraid of making him mad – or, maybe, you want him to be closer to you. Maybe, you want him to like you more. Maybe…

— I will probably be there for another week or two. Mission will be over sooner than we thought. 

— You will leave? 

König wants to lie to himself that you feel sad about it. He can hear the pain in your voice, the way your fingers are shaking on top of his. He hates being weak, scared, he purged everything that was liable in his body before he even became the colonel – but he stays here, in this run-down kitchen corner of your apartment, looks at your delicate body in his hands and feels weak. 

Not that you will say no, that you can run away. He is terrified of himself because he knows that he won’t take no for an answer. He will get you out of here, haul you on his shoulder like some sort of trophy, and make you his no matter the kicking and screaming he will receive. And he doesn’t want to let himself go around you – to lose control. 

— Not without you. 

— I don’t want to leave. 

He squeezes your waist one more time, letting go of your body. He can be patient – he needs to concentrate on the mission at hand anyway, not being all lovey and romantic with you. He may give you space – a few centimeters at best, maybe, if you would a good girl and give him everything he asks for. 

— You can have a week to think. But I will be back, verstehen? 

You nod and he turns your head to the side, kissing you. He has to lean down to reach your lips, he is too fucking desperate to taste you on his tongue when he moves it further down your throat. It’s sloppy, unexperienced, the technique is basically non-existent but you clung to the counter and moan as he slides his hands down your shorts, finding your center. It’s moist, slippery, welcoming two of his fingers with ease – and then he withdraws it immediately. 

You whine when he stops moving, and your pussy is clenching around nothing when he chuckles. You’re weak, fragile, desperate and delicate – he isn’t used to handling stuff like you, but he will make sure to find all the bubble wrap in the world to use on you. He’ll be your perfect husband – if only you would give him a chance. 

— Gather your things, lamm. Don’t bring too much, you’ll find better things in Austria. 

— But���

— You’ll like it, I promise. Do you trust me? 

— N…no. 

— You will. 

He leaves you in your apartment after a few minutes of just…looking at you. Eyes wandering on your shaking body, fear and desire mixing on your face – he is soft with you, but you know that this softness comes with a responsibility that you could not handle. 

You went to the bathroom to wash your face and calm down a little bit – everything in your body begged you to run after him and scream for him to take you right here and then – and you look at the sink. That fucking sink. 

*** Maybe, you shouldn’t have had this conversation with him so late in the evening – you decided to go out of your apartment to clean your head. 

Maybe, he shouldn’t have fixed your sink because when you didn’t have to think about problems in your apartment, you actually had time and energy to go out at night again. 

Maybe, he shouldn’t have left you here is such disarray – maybe, if you had actually fuck that night, you wouldn’t have the strength to venture into creepy alleys and pass through crowds of weird, scary people. 

Maybe…

— Stand right here, missy. 

— Saw you with that asshole in the hood a while ago. How does it feel to betray your country? 

— I thought our women knew better than whoring themselves with foreign scum. 

— She can have him to come to us. 

— Think he would come to get his slut? 

— He’d have to. All hostages are good in our situation. 

Maybe, if you won’t tell him to at least wait before making you his, you wouldn’t get into the hands of terrorists that he was supposed to fight.

[sehodreams]

hiya!! first off wanted to say i love ur blog and i enjoy reading all ur content but esp look out for ur toxic!riize headcanons those are fun haha, i was wondering if and only if ur comfortable with it cuz it’s a little weird.. but thoughts or a drabble about like bully! or toxic! sungchan with plus size!reader but he likes to tease her for her size sometimes but it’s really just to hide how attracted he is to every aspect of her.. idk like only if you’ve got some ideas, that’s all… thank you and i hope you have a great day!

pinching

TW and tags: oral sex (f receiving), bully!Sungchan x plus size!reader, bullying (duh), heavy dubcon.

WC: 1.8k

Comment: thank you so much hahaha, I'm happy that you like my silly content, I love toxic!riize too, to be honest, I also want to write a toxic!sungchan x plus size!reader, I have an idea but I've been so busy I haven't been able to write properly in days, still, i hope you like this bully!Sungchan. Pd: please look at that picture, I imagined him looking like that the whole time.

You have a couple of memories from that place, like how good it felt to hug your grandmother before bed, how there was a little stall in front of your school that always had tasty sweets, and how there was a little boy you used to walk home with after classes finished.

There wasn’t much objection once your mother said you would go back and live together in your grandmother's place to not leave the house empty. You had a couple of friends, but it was nothing special, so you said goodbye to them and moved with your mother without problem.

You had to admit you were even kind of happy, perhaps you could eat those sweets again, and you wouldn’t be able to hug your grandmother, but at least you would feel her presence with the old floors and flower decorations that surrounded every room, and especially, you hoped you could see him again.

You should've known by that point in your life that having expectations only leaves you with the sour aftertaste of disappointments.

The stall wasn’t there anymore, your mother changed the whole house, leaving no trace of your grandmother behind, and the sweet boy that used to follow you with a smile now followed you to make fun of you.

It was easy to recognize him, he had the same eyes and shiny smile, and you were elated to see a good old friend now all grown up into a real man, but he wasn’t as happy to see you there, showing you a disgusted face once you told him who you were.

‘’Don’t fucking talk to me���’ he said, and you didn’t understand what you had done wrong, perhaps you were too confident, or your perfume wasn’t to his liking, or your hand was sweating too much when you touched him, you had no idea why he reacted like that, but you understood that, just like his appearance, he had changed, because that sweet boy you used to know would never talk to you that way.

Just that interaction was enough to make you never want to approach him again, and you tried to not even look at him when you recognized his voice, you didn't want to hear that tone ever again, and you did your best, but it was useless, you had become his new favourite thing.

At first, he was all words and no bite, throwing comments every now and then about your physical appearance, comparing you to a pig when you ate your lunch in the cafeteria, or mocking your uniform for being bigger than normal because of your size.

His friends only laughed at his comments, and those who weren’t his friends stayed silent, no one dared to approach you afraid of receiving the same treatment.

Then, he started to touch you.

He pinched your arm, telling you to give him your homework to copy it, then it was your cheeks, telling you to stop eating if you didn’t want to gain weight, and then, one day, when all of them had left for EP class and you were searching for your towel in your seat, from behind, he pinched your waist.

You turned to him, scared, it had hurt a lot more than when he did it to your cheek, and he definitely had done it with the intention of hurting you.

When you looked at his face, his typical grin wasn’t there, replaced by a surprised face and curious eyes, and you felt that something wrong was about to happen, so you pushed him out of the way and walked out of there as soon as you could without caring that you left with empty hands.

‘’Where’s your towel?’’ your professor asked you.

‘’I forgot it’’ you answered, not wanting to go back to the classroom.

Later, Sungchan arrived with your towel in his hand, and you got punished for not bringing all the obligatory material.

He got worse.

if he crossed you in the hallways, he would shamelessly pinch your waist until you hissed, and when he found you in the library, between shelves, he would pinch your ass, grinning from ear to ear at the picture of you biting your lips to not make a sound and get in trouble again.

As if everything he did was an innocent game, he smiled at you after nipping you in different parts of your body, like the side of your ribcage when you decided to walk away, the back of your hand when you tried to push him or your thighs when he sat beside you in the cafeteria or the study room.

‘’Why are you doing this?’’ you whispered, pushing his hand away from prying under your skirt and pinching your upper leg.

‘’Look at all that skin, your body is begging for it’’ he answered, grabbing your round hand with force to stop you from getting away, and then when you tried to do it again, he pinched the space of your boob that your bra didn’t cover, making you whimper of pain, laughing at your hurt expression.

‘’It really hurts!’’ you tried to reason with him, but he was a lost case, and he didn’t care that you were full of little purple and green spots, flinching at the mere sight of him lurking around, he wanted more.

This is going to end at one point, you tried to fool yourself.

He’d get tired and leave you alone when he found a new toy, it was impossible he only focused on you the whole time, and even if it was like that, it was your last year. After that, you’d never see him again.

Everything has an end.

Your house was the only safe space you had, even if it wasn’t anything like the warm memory you had about it, it was a place that had never been tainted by Sungchan, not like your school or the streets you walked to get there.

He would sometimes follow you and murmur insults while pretending he was your good friend walking you home, but once you opened your door and saw that he stayed feet away, you would exhale, relieved of him not trying to follow you inside too.

‘’Your friend is waiting for you in your room, I’ll go and buy something for you to eat later’’ your mother smiled, ‘’He’s become such a handsome boy’’.

She, unlike you, was excited to have him there, and you, trying to breathe properly to not show how the panic was consuming you, nodded.

There was nothing you could do to run away, it was your house, and opening your door, you saw him calmly looking at your stuff.

Your pillow wasn’t where you left it, he had definitely been roaming around for a while, invading your space and doing whatever he wanted, like he always did.

Standing in front of your bookshelf, one of your books open in his hands, he recognized your presence.

‘’Thought you would never come, didn’t know you took so many walks’’ he said and went through the pages of it, as if there was exactly something he was looking for, ‘’it doesn’t explain why you still look like that though’’.

‘’Sungchan… I’ve done nothing to you’’ you sounded as if you begging at that point, ‘’why… I don’t get why’’.

‘’I have my reasons’’ he answered, leaving the book where it was.

You flinched when he showed the intention of getting close to you, your hands becoming fists, alert, ready to run to another room in case he tried to hurt you again.

‘’We were friends’’ you said, lower lip trembling, ‘’please stop, Sungchan, it hurts’’.

He saw you like that, broken, vulnerable, and he beamed with it, walking towards you, and you thought your body would listen to you and escape, but it didn’t. Closing your door behind you, he pressed the little secure, making you finally react with the sound of the click, trembling in your place.

‘’But if I don’t touch you, who else will?’’ he whispered, taking your shaking hand, not pinching it this time, he interlocked his fingers with yours and pulled you closer to him, ‘’if you’re good, I’ll stop being so hard with you, what do you think about that?’’ he offered.

You didn’t understand, being good with what? You stayed still, looking up at him, your chest pressed against him, and his other hand went to rest over the small of your back, the generous curve from your ass to your waist that was the object of so many of his jokes.

You could see where the thing was going, and you felt yourself get nauseous with his aroma flooding your room and his temperature making you hot with almost no distance between your bodies.

‘’My mom will come back in any second…’’ you didn’t know what other excuse to use.

‘’I’ll be quick’’ his tongue poked out and wet his lips, sending a signal to your brain that screamed just be good and finish it.

‘’Will it hurt?’’ your face betrayed you, plainly showing all the fears you had, giving him, once again, the upper hand.

‘’Not anymore’’ he assured you. His hand that used to bring you so much pain suddenly became gentle and trailed up, caressing your arm with multiple marks from him, groping your chest a few times before he cupped your face. You didn’t make a single sound, not the hiss you always left out when he pinched you, or the cry when he was being too much, ‘’well done’’ he praised you when you let him open your thighs with his leg.

He quickly found his place, your pants were somewhere in your room, and his head was between your trembling legs, slurping all the involuntary wetness your body made you drip to accept him and not suffer.

Not being able to say his name properly, you moaned when his palms gripped your meaty thighs a bit too hard and his tongue found your entrance, bumping his nose against your clit between your plump folds, making you squirm at the intense sensation of him eating you out like a hungry man.

Your hands went to his hair, and you don’t know what flooded you, but you felt free to hurt him too, so you pulled his hair and moved your hips to crash his face, using him instead of the way around.

Then it felt good, to hurt him felt really good, and you thought, maybe this is why he does it, because you had never felt so powerful and in control before, especially with him.

Looking down, you two made eye contact even with your chubby stomach prodding out. His eyes had nothing of the mockery they always showed, completely lost instead, and you whimpered when he seemed pleased to have you focusing on him and what he was doing.

Not much after he started fucking you with his tongue the knot in your stomach started to feel so tight you knew it would snap in any second, so closing your large legs around his head, you crushed his head as much as you could while cumming, overflowing over his mouth and nose, asphyxiating him for a few seconds before you relaxed and finished giving him all you had.

He didn’t move away, gulping your juices and then moving his mouth up to leave a loving peck on your clit, as if he was proud you had abused him like that, and before he caught his breath again, he talked. ‘’See? This didn’t hurt’’ he smiled with the lower half of his face glistening with your orgasm.

[songmingisthighs]

Beefcake Raccoon

group : ateez

pairing : yeosang × reader (ft. boyfriend!jongho)

genre : smut

wc : 6.5 k

tw : mdni, explicit smut, unprotected sex, consensual sex, slight m × m (ofc between jongsang), fingering, cum tasting, dirty talk, cowgirl, creampie, mentions and description of jongho's junk, idk what else to tag here ngl

a/n : pt. 1 of an impulsive mini series with @bro-atz and @skteezcursed. pt. 2 and 3 will be added here once they drop! and yes, i call yeosang beefcake raccoon. how can i nawt when he looks like this ??? and yea i kinda went overboard with this because i had planned on writing 2.5-3k but here we are

a/a/n : it's 12.38 am and i'm sleepy and still sick as fuck and i had the sudden raging NEED to purchase all of the aniteez keyring. which i might do. idk if this is my manic episode making a comeback or me having impulse control issue

buy me coffee ?

beefcake raccoon | concrete bear | manwich

Yeosang isn't really one to butt into other people's business, not even when certain things affect him personally.

For example, he never really voiced out how much he didn't like the way Hongjoong would come into his room, steal his supplements, and just leave things a mess. Mind you, he has no problem with letting the older guy take a couple pills or tablets from what could only be described as a collector's mountain. Heck, he's a firm believer in sharing whatever they own especially with people Yeosang already thought of as family. He just didn't like the way Hongjoong tended to leave some of the bottles not properly screwed. He hates seeing things not properly screwed. So he would just take a breath and clean up after the captain.

Another example is when a tornado came barrelling in. And no, it's not a real tornado which would have probably been better. Yeosang didn't voice out his complaints when his best friend of almost a decade suddenly came by the dorm he shared with Yunho only to kick him out. "Yunho and I are in this small gaming tournament and we need to beat this son of a bitch," Wooyoung said as he set up his gaming stuff on the dining table with Yunho who stopped momentarily and furrowed his eyebrows at this frantic friend, "You do know punchpunch483 is 12 years old, right?" which resulted in Wooyoung glaring at him, "A punk is a punk no matter the age, I will not stand the disrespect that's why he and his guild are going down so deep in the ground he can say hi to his grandpa." At that point, Yeosang simply clocked out of the conversation, dejectedly resigning to the fact that he wasn't going to be able to just watch his show in his bed and fall asleep to it.

There were some conflicts in Yeosang's brain, however. One good thing about the dorm Wooyoung shared was the fact that he lives with a workaholic nomad and an introverted busybody. One bad thing about the dorm Wooyoung shared was the fact that said dorm is often occupied by a girl Yeosang has a crush on and that girl is dating one of his other best friends.

Yeosang considers Jongho to be one of the luckiest men to be alive to be dating you. You, who in his mind is the most adorable sweetheart of a human being to have ever lived. It wasn't like you were the most polite person what with the names you can throw towards people you dislike and mutter towards rude strangers and the screeching laugh you sometimes let out when someone told you a stupid joke. Everything about you seemed so charming in Yeosang's eyes even when you were being touchy with the friend he was oh so jealous of. Sometimes Yeosang wonders, in his existential crisis-ridden thoughts at 3 am, the chances of the two of you being in the same lifetime. He wouldn't say that he was in love with you, but he wouldn't deny that he would often daydream about what it would be like to be with you, to be the one kissing you and to be the one getting back hugs from you. Well, he wouldn't deny it to himself.

So another good thing about Wooyoung's dorm is probably the fact that he could see and interact with you. But one other bad thing is the fact that sometimes he felt like Jongho knew how he thinks about you and that unnerves him. So he tends to avoid moments where you and Jongho are together because he can never seem to control the longing expression on his face and Jongho would always send him a knowing look and he knew one day he would just crack like an egg under hydraulic pressure.

It seemed like his resolve wasn't faring any better because when he first came by the dorm, he saw you on top of Jongho's lap on the couch, kissing him all over his face and whining. He knew he should at least expect to be met with you and Jongho being all over each other, but maybe not to this extent. The sound of him coming in didn't seem to deter either of you from your... Activities.

Whatever dirty thoughts passed Yeosang's head were almost immediately pushed away however when he saw Jongho pushing you away from him gently and sighing, "I told you I can't do this tonight," he said which earned him a scoff from you, "You've been saying that for the past four days, Jongho and frankly I'm starting to can't do it anymore," you said before pushing yourself off of your boyfriend completely. "That is not even grammatical," Jongho chuckled and you only flipped him off before turning to retire to Jongho's room only to pause when you saw Yeosang.

Yeosang's heart skipped a beat when he saw your frown turn into a bright smile, squealing and hugging him tightly. "Raccoon!" You called out happily. Yeosang never knew why, but you had seemed to start calling him 'beefcake raccoon'. Well, you did explain that it was because he was, in your own words, 'beefy' and his hair for his latest comeback made him look like a raccoon so in a sense, your logic did make sense. What doesn't seem to make sense is how you only call him and your boyfriend with adorable yet odd animal names. To you, Jongho was your concrete bear and Yeosang was your beefcake raccoon which pissed Wooyoung and San off but maybe that's because San is a jealous cat and Wooyoung wanted to be called foxy mama and you scolded them for being so relentless.

Despite his nerves, Yeosang grinned and hugged you back gently, not being able to stop himself from inhaling the scent of your shampoo and enjoying your warmth against his body. "Hi (y/n), is something wrong?" Yeosang asked as you both pulled away. At the mention of something wrong, your frown returned and you snapped your head to glare at your boyfriend who was still just sitting there, smiling innocently as if he hadn't denied you sex for four days straight. "Oh something is very wrong but it's with your buddy Choi Jongho over there. I'm starting to think he's no longer turned on by me or by any vagina-owning creature on earth," you hissed. "Okay you can't say things like that because some animals also own vaginas and I'm not into bestiality," Jongho scolded. At that moment, Yeosang thought he should just go to Wooyoung's room because he felt like he was being dragged into people's business and as fun as it is talking about kinks that could possibly lead him to know yours, he was not about to delve into this particular discussion. Luckily, you threw your arms up in the air and turned to him again, "Seriously Yeosang, if you were Jongho, would you choose vocal recording over sex?" Yeosang's eyes widened and he almost blurted out that he would never choose anything over you but thankfully Jongho beat him into answering you, "I'm telling you, Hongjoong hyung has been riding my ass with this new demo and you know how he is when inspiration struck," Jongho tried to reason. With a roll of your eyes you walked away to Jongho's room but not before yelling out, "Well, at least something's riding you, you cocky bastard!"

Jongho seemed unbothered, chuckling by himself as he watched your figure retreat. "You're not following her?" Yeosang asked, looking back and forth between the couple. Jongho simply shook his head, "Nah, she needs time to just... Cool off and I need to resist the temptation because Hongjoong hyung will be pissed if I come into the studio tired and hoarse," Yeosang nodded in understanding because he does understand what Jongho meant, having been on the receiving end of Hongjoong's wrath in the past for being, in Hongjoong's words, unprofessional, unprepared, and unremarkably disrespectful to people's time. But still, Yeosang felt bad for you and he didn't like seeing you pissed like that which was shown by the way he stared in the direction you went to for quite some time before he excused himself to rest in Woyooung's room, missing the way Jongho was staring at him knowingly with a smug smirk on his face.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Yeosang thought that his involvement in your relationship with Jongho would end that night but when he woke up at 7 am the next day, he was met with the sight of Jongho's door open and as he passed the room, he saw Jongho tucking you in and stroking your hair and taking particular focus in the way his friend's shoulder drop when he sighed in disappointment.

Feeling like Jongho could use a moment, Yeosang just quietly tiptoed to the kitchen and helped himself to Wooyoung's stash of good coffee and started brewing.

Soon enough, Jongho showed up and sat down on the stool of the kitchen counter while opening his phone to check his text message, waiting for the manager to inform him that the car had arrived. Wordlessly, Yeosang poured himself and also Jongho a cup of coffee each. Jongho quietly thanked his older friend before sipping his cup in a slightly slumped position.

"Are you okay?" Yeosang asked, sensing something. Jongho sighed and nodded, "I feel bad for (y/n) for denying her sex and it's not like I don't want to, but I'm just not in the position to considering the state I would be in would not be conducive for recording and I really don't want to deal with Hongjoong hyung getting pissy at me," he sighed. Not knowing what else to say, Yeosand decided that he should at least be polite in this situation, "That's rough man, anything I can do?"

That particular question seemed to have turn a switch in Jongho's head because one moment he had a mopey look on his face, and the next, it was pure intrigue.

"You know what, hyung, I think there is something you can do," he said, finishing his coffee and straightening up. Sensing Jongho's resolve genuinely changing, Yeosang raised an eyebrow, "Okay? What can I do?" "Do you think you can accompany (y/n) and make sure she has all her needs met?" Jongho asked. The prospect of spending the day with you made Yeosang's eyes blink faster and heart beat harder. "S-sure, I guess. I have no schedules today so I can take her to wherever she wants," he ensured, clearing his throat when he felt like his tone showcased how excited he was even if it was only sightly. Jongho raised his eyebrows and smirked, realizing that Yeosang hadn't caught his drift, "You'll take her wherever she wants? What about taking her... However she wants?" Still not getting it, Yeosang nodded slowly, "Yes? I'll... Do whatever it is you want me to do to help your girlfriend feel better?"

Jongho couldn't believe how adorably innocent Yeosang was being. Knowing him for years, Jongho realized how some things could easily go over Yeosang's head by no fault of his own. He was just never introduced to the more scandalous side of life and it wasn't like he sought out information either.

Yeosang stared at Jongho in confusion as the younger chuckled and stood up, "Yes, that's... Correct in a sense I guess," Jongho then rounded the kitchen counter to stand in front of Yeosang. Jongho's phone buzzed and he momentarily checked the message he received before shoving his phone into his pocket, "But just to make sure both you and (y/n) get my point," All of a sudden, Jongho pulled Yeosang by his shirt and planted his lips on the older guy. Yeosang's eyes widened and his hands gripped the counter to regain control of his body because the impact from Jongho's sudden attack suddenly sent him reeling.

Initially, Yesoang was sent into a panicked and confused state because what the hell was Jongho doing? Why was he kissing him? What if you woke up and saw your boyfriend and one of his best friends kissing?

Correction, making out.

Somehow Jongho had managed to slip his tongue into Yeosang's mouth and at first, Yeosang wanted to protest and push him away. Heck, he had already gotten a hand on Jongho's shoulder but for some reason, he melted slightly into Jongho and as fucked up as it is, his mind drifted to thoughts that he knew he shouldn't be having. Those thoughts were mainly in the area of 'this is the tongue that had caressed and tasted (y/n)' and it got him hard faster than he cared to admit. The thought of you helped relax Yeosang slightly and before he realized it, he was kissing Jongho back with the same fervor which made Jongho unknowingly smirk, pleased that Yeosang was responding to him.

It wasn't until Jongho felt his phone buzzed again that he pulled away, realizing that he had to go. He couldn't even hide the satisfied look on his face when he saw how flushed Yeosang was after their little makeout session. For sure, you were going to like things just as much as he did should things go according to his plan. "Please give that to (y/n)," Jongho said all too simply as he grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. Still blear-eyed and slightly confused, Yeosang was trying hard to make his brain work. "W-what?" he managed out after he felt air filling back into his lungs. "Give that kiss to (y/n), the exact same way, please?" Jongho grinned, a little bit too happily.

Even with Jongho repeating himself, Yeosang was still trying to make sure of things, putting 2 and 2 was for him especially since he was practically mauled by Jongho. Seeing the state his friend was in, Jongho exhaled sharply and stood closer to Yeosang, "I am giving you full permission to do ABSOLUTELY WHATEVER it is my girlfriend wants you to do to satisfy her, okay? Starting with that kiss. Carte blanche, sky's your limit!" he then placed a hand on Yeosang's right shoulder and tilted his head, "Capische?" Just to make things more sexually confusing for Yeosang, Jongho smiled at him, showing off the gums that cleverly hid his perverted agenda.

"I- I- Capische, I guess?" Yeosang answered, kind of getting what Jongho expected off of him but also still in disbelief. "Awesome! Thanks hyung, I owe you this, I'll pay you back when I think of something, okay?" he said before leaving his friend with a pat on the chest and an extra squeeze that made Yeosang's eyes bulge out (and almost made him let out a sound but in fear of sounding like a car being honked, Yeosang somehow managed to keep the sound in. Things happened so fast all at once and it made him slightly dizzy. It was only 7 am and so many things already happened. Part of him thought that he was imagining things and that maybe he was still asleep and dreaming but he didn't even know where to justify himself dreaming about kissing his friend.

"Hey Sangie, what are you doing up so early?"

Yeosang snapped his focus back to reality at the sound of your voice but the blush returned to his cheeks when he saw you oh so casually walking your adorable self out of your boyfriend's room and trudging to sit down on one of the stools, right where your boyfriend had just set which effectively set his mind drifting to what had just happened.

"H-hey (y/n), morning! What are you doing up at 7 am?" he asked with nerves thickly laced in his voice. You furrowed your eyebrows and checked the clock on your phone before showing him the screen, "Sangie, it's 8.24," you pointed out. Yeosang had stood alone in the kitchen, so deep in his thoughts that he hadn't even realized that an hour had passed and that time had kept on going while he was making out with your boyfriend in the kitchen. So he turned his back on you after saying a simple 'oh', making it seem like he wasn't flustered by pouring you a cup of coffee before setting it in front of you and heading towards the couch to enjoy his now cold coffee.

For a moment, both you and he were silent, neither of you was sharing anything and just enjoying the silence and calmness of the atmosphere. Even when you moved to the couch when Yeosang turned the TV on, neither of you was conversing over anything substantial.

Well, until you brought up your boyfriend.

"Did Jongho say anything before he left this morning?"'

It was almost comical how Yeosang snapped his head in your direction and blinked twice. "I'm not quite sure but I think he mentioned Cate Blanchett?" You furrowed your eyebrows at his answer, "The lady who played Thor's older sister?" "Yes?" "You sound unsure..." you pointed out, crossing your arms on your chest and turning to look at him fully, "Tell me what Jongho told you and I know he told you something," you pressed.

Now Yeosang found himself between a hard and awkward place. The hard place is between his legs and the awkward place is the position of having to tell you that your boyfriend had practically told him to service you, who is his secret crush, should you request for him to. So he kept stammering, trying to find a way to tell you what he needed to tell you while you stared at him, making him even more nervous than he already was.

"I- I- Well, you see,"

Yeosang sat up straighter and shuffled closer to you, prompting you to do the same.

"W- we- I, Jongho and I, he-"

God, he wasn't even this nervous at his audition and frankly it was starting to annoy you.

"Just spit it out!"

"Fuck it,"

Before you know it, Yeosang pressed his lips on yours, his body no longer at the end of the couch but hovering above you with arms caging your head. The impact caused you to let out a sound of surprise as you were not expecting Yeosang to jump on you like that. There was a nagging voice in the back of your head that was screaming for you to push him away but there was another voice that spoke louder than the former voice. That voice belonged to your boyfriend and it came from the memory you had from earlier in the morning when he woke you up to tell you that he felt bad for disappointing you for the past four days and he was going to make it up to you. Then your brain tried to connect that memory with the text message your boyfriend sent to you, stating that his apology gift has been set up and you can claim it from Yeosang. Was this it?

"Jongho," Yeosang panted as he shifted his lips from yours down to your chin and jaw, "Left you a kiss," your eyes rolled back when he took your earlobe between his teeth and started nibbling, "With me, and he wanted me to deliver it for you," he finished before reconnecting your lips once again. You moaned into his mouth when he slipped his tongue and allowed your own to battle his for dominance.

The kiss was electrifying, breath-taking, and cunt clenching. You couldn't help but spread your legs wider so Yeosang could push your body completely flat on the couch. At this point, his crotch made in contact with yours and you could feel from your short sleeping shorts and his own sweatpants that he was long and hard. Another moan was sent into his mouth and the feeling of vibration made Yeosang grind his crotch onto you, taking it as the perfect moment to let you know the other part of the message.

"A-also," you whined when Yeosang pulled away slightly, resting his forehead on yours, "Jongho wanted me to... Satisfy all of your needs, however you want, wherever you want."

Looking into his eyes, you saw how his pupils were blown and the flush on his face made your heart burn slightly, realizing that he wanted you just as much as you wanted him at that moment. You were not sure if it was because of how needy you were from being denied sex for almost a week or if your teeny tiny crush on your boyfriend's friend was forced to bloom due to the circumstances. Of course, the circumstances are the fact that your boyfriend had allowed his friend to kiss and fuck you should you want to.

"So, Jongho told you to just kiss me or did he specify that you had to kiss me like that?" you teased, starting to relax and opening yourself up for Yeosang who had dropped his gaze from your eyes down to your lips. "He... Left me a kiss but what I gave you is partially from him but mostly from me," he muttered before he dove down to attach his lips to your neck. As he began sucking the sensitive skin, your body reacted automatically to him, your hands curled on the base strands of his hair as your heels hooked on the backs of thighs, allowing his crotch to press closer to yours. "Fuck, is this your way of telling me that you've been wanting to fuck me?" you moaned when his teeth grazed against your jugular, causing your cunt to clench and your spine to tingle. At that point, you were sure that you were soaked but you couldn't be too sure because the warmth pressing on your crotch could Yeosang's body warmth. "No, this is me telling you I didn't like to see you so disappointed because Jongho, your boyfriend, has been denying you sex so I want to help you feel better." As he spoke, you felt his hands creep up to the waistband of your shorts and your breath hitched in both anticipation and excitement, wanting to see just how much you both could go with the fact that you've already gotten your boyfriend's approval in the bag. Toying with the band whilst simultaneously teasing the skin underneath, Yeosang looked up at you with eyes full of hope and desire, "Can I help you feel better?"

It didn't take you long to nod, giving him the confirmation to proceed which he happily obliged by pulling your bottoms so hard he ripped your panties slightly. Yeosang misunderstood the widening of your eyes as a bad thing and he immediately cringed, apologizing profusely as he told you he felt bad and that he would buy you a new pair. So it surprised him when you pulled his face up and hungrily kissed him. "That was so hot, Yeosang, I'm totally okay with that," you said breathlessly, starting to grind your now bare cunt onto his crotch, delighting yourself at the feeling of something hard pushing back against your needy clit. "Jongho has been the only person to be able to do that and fuck did he make such a good decision entrusting you," you whimpered, pulling on Yeosang's bottom lip needily.

Hearing the way you talked about him made Yeosang's heart soar and he suddenly felt the need to show you just how much exactly he had been thinking about you and pleasing you. Confidently, Yeosang pressed two of his fingers against your pussy, effectively trapping your clit between his two digits. His eyes never left your face, enjoying the ecstasy-ridden look on your face as you threw your head back whilst a high-pitched gasp escaped your lips. Wanting to see that expression again, Yeosang began massaging your clit between his two fingers whilst adding more stimulation by moving his fingers up and down. The pleasure was starting to build in you slowly but surely, adding the fact that it was Yesoang who was giving you pleasure and your mind was sent to a pleasure-induced haze. Had it not been for Yeosang's body between your legs, you would have successfully clamped your legs shut.

A shaky breath left Yeosang's lips when he noticed you reacting positively towards his ministration. To the people who would not understand, they would say Yeosang was weird for reading into your reaction so much but how can Yeosang start to describe how much he loved seeing the way your hips rolled onto his hands? Seeing you seeking more of his touch was a whole other level of satisfaction that Yeosang never even knew existed until he saw it with his own eyes. Between your face and glistening cunt, Yeosang couldn't choose which part he liked best. Then again, he had yet to have the chance to feel his aching cock nesting inside your core so he'd have to reserve his decision for after you came on him.

The dynamic of your expression was beyond anything Yeosang could explain because once his fingers slipped inside you, your face contorted to showcase even more of your ecstasy. "You like that, princess?" Yeosang teased as he curled his fingers inside you, caressing the sensitive walls ever so gently that caused your cunt to leak more arousal and your body to shake from the pleasure. "Fuck yes, I do! Jongho, God bless his physique, is chunky and big but so is his fingers but you, Yeosang- Fuck! You and your damn long fingers are reaching so deep inside me- fuck!" you whined, hips rising as Yeosang's finger pulled all the way out only to slam them back in, revelling in how slick you were when they felt your juices staining his palm. "Long, huh? So... Why do you call me a beefcake?" Yeosang teased, lowering himself closer to your cunt which surprisingly made you a bit shy as seen from the way you tried to close your legs. Of course, Yeosang wouldn't let that happen so he used his upper body strength and directed it to his palms, forcing your legs to stay open and not even caring that your stream of slick was trickling down on the couch. "Excuse you, Yeosang, you're not just a beefcake, you're MY beefcake raccoon," you scoffed as you maintained eye contact with Yeosang in faux confidence, oblivious that your stance was being betrayed by your quivering pupils and blush. "Yours, huh? Is that what I am?" Yeosang tried to bite back the grin on his lips as best he could but it was futile as he couldn't even hide the way his hips grind onto your shin when he heard you referring to him as yours. "I don't know about you but fuck, I love the sound of that," he said shakily before diving down to lick a fat stripe from your drenched hole up to nibble on your clit.

That was the last straw. The teasing, the sexual frustration, and seeing Yeosang between your legs had fucked up your brain so much that all you wanted was him.

Sitting up slightly, you somehow managed to pull Yeosang up by the collar of his shirt and push him so he was the one on his back. The frantic movement of your hands pulling Yeosang's sweatpants and underwear paired with the manic, almost crazed look on your face was absolutely thrilling. "I need you inside me Yeosang, please, I want you to fill me up with cock and cum so bad, I need it now!" you whimpered, pussy drenching the fabric of his thigh so embarrassingly bad that it caused Yeosang's cock to twitch as it was released from its confines.

"Use me then, after all, that's why I'm here."

It was the last confirmation you need before you all too easily slip his cock inside of your cunt. For a moment, the both of you only revelled at the feeling of each other for the first time. Yesoang was enjoying how warm you were and how much he liked the sharp contrast between the cool air and your warm core, the sudden change forced the air to be knocked out of his lungs and his eyes to roll to the back of his head. You, on the other hand, were struggling with the fact that Yeosang was reaching inside you so deep that your legs were starting to shake. As crude as it seemed, your immediate reaction was to notice the difference between him and Jongho. It wasn't like you were ranking or making a pros and cons list in your head, you were just noticing how different they pleasured you. Jongho was definitely shorter but girthier, it was always a struggle to take him in as he filled you up almost immediately and even once you got used to the feeling of fullness, you still struggled to move your own body so usually, Jongho would do the work. But Yeosang, he was slimmer but definitely longer, something you didn't take into consideration on the first impact as once he was sheathed inside of you completely, you felt his tip kissing your cervix and it was a new feeling that you had yet to be accustomed to. Whether it was due to his size or the pool you had created down there, you found yourself able to move on your own a lot easier and that made your brain go fuzzy.

Once you both got used to the novelty of feeling each other so intimately, you began fucking yourself on Yeosang's cock. Right off the bat, you were moving so vigorously and Yeosang could only stare with a slacked jaw. "Fuck, Yeosang your cock is hitting me so deep!" you whined, throwing your head back from the feeling and clenching down on him. Yeosang never had much of a comparison material as he was never one to seek out physical relations so often. But even then he knew that the level of pleasure he was experiencing was only achievable because he was getting it from you. Yeosang had to grip your hips to ground him back to reality because he was sure that if he hadn't, he would've definitely thought that he was dreaming. But the feeling of you grounding yourself on top of him was surely something his brain couldn't manipulate no matter how much he tried. And when you changed you changed your position, his brain went haywire. You initially had your knees on either side of his hips and the sight of you rubbing your needy cunt on him was something he could never forget. But then you paused to prop your legs by bending your knees and leaning back with your hands on his muscular thighs. The feeling of Yeosang's flexing muscles beneath your fingers honestly made your cunt clench and weep slightly and Yeosang couldn't help but take note of it.

The very moment you got settled in your new position, you immediately started bouncing yourself on top of Yeosang, impaling yourself multiple times on his cock. If your rhythm was vigorous before, this was... Maniacal. You were jackhammering yourself like a crazed person trying to seek relief. As sick as it was, for some reason, Yeosang loved the way you were basically using his cock for your own release as if he was a toy that you oh so graciously choose to relieve the building ache and need from being denied by your own boyfriend. Your stamina was proof of your desperate need to get sexual release and the way you showcased it could only be described by him as an art performance. "Shit, you're so hot," Yeosang hissed on a particular snap of your hips, squeezing the soft flesh of your ass before his right hand travelled up to your (Jongho's) shirt and grabbing the bottom as he pulled them up to reveal your torso, "Bite this for me please, baby, I wanna see your body, I NEED to see your body," he whimpered, his finger caressing your chin as he tuck the bottom part of your shirt between your teeth. You bit back a grin when he called you baby, feeling giddy all of a sudden but you tried to play it cool. He let out a shuddered breath when he noticed you weren't wearing any bra and frankly, he couldn't help but think about how lucky Jongho was to be able to feel you pressing up to him every night if he wanted to. You moaned and clenched down on him, "Fuck, I didn't peg you for a tits man, Yeosang," you teased but took a moment to tweak your left nipple, "Do you like my tits?" you asked, purposefully moaning and rolling your hips. "No," he huffed as he placed his right hand on your crotch, thumb pressed on your clit which caused you to jolt slightly "I like you," he smirked cheekily.

The confession was rather surprising but you noticed it made your stomach to flutter. Egged by his profession, you started fucking yourself on Yeosang's cock again, this time, the stimulation from his thumb on your clit made your movements harsher but messier. Neither of you could speak clearly, not that you wanted to, you were enjoying the sounds Yeosang was making and he was in a trance as he stared at the way your pussy was swallowing his cock whole. "Greedy baby," he hissed, finally finding the ability to snap his hips back to meet yours, "Taking my cock so good, making sure I'd remember your pussy always." The impact from his hips successfully made your footing falter as you found your right leg slipping and your body tumbling forward, your bare chest met Yeosang's clothed one.

"Fuck me, you got some talented hips there," you giggled, immediately adjusting your thrusts to the new position and enjoying the friction of his shirt on your tits. Moaning, Yeosang held you tight with one arm as the one that was on your clit moved to his face, "Nothing you couldn't escape from your beefcake raccoon, right?" he smirked while licking your arousal clean from his fingers.

With a sharp exhale from you, you planted your lips back onto him, tasting yourself on his tongue before moving your hips even faster. You were thankful that your boyfriend had forced you to ride his thighs so much that you had somehow gained the core strength to ride Yeosang like a champion. "Y-Yeosang, fuck- I'm close!" you whimpered against his mouth, your movements getting sloppy as the tension in your cunt increased, now trying its best to reach climax. Yeosang nodded at your admission, hands moving to hold you by your thighs so that you would still be wide open for him. "I'll make you cum, (y/n), don't worry," he pecked your lips before dropping his forehead on your shoulder, "I'll make sure you're satisfied."

Your hands found purchase on the armrest behind Yeosang and on his shoulder, trying to hold onto your sanity that was being torn apart by each thrust Yeosang delivered. Your head fell slack and your eyebrows furrowed as you felt your climax at the tip of your tongue. Yeosang was trying his best to get you to cum and with the way your walls were hugging him in a vice, he knew it wouldn't take long to push you over the edge. "Y-yeosang!" you whined, your hips now stilling as you reached your climax with a shake of your body from how intense it felt. Yeosang held your legs open for him and his hips never stopped, allowing you to ride out your high while also trying to reach his own.

Though you were induced into a pleasure state, you were still thinking about Yeosang and fuck if there was not one thing in your mind.

"In me, Yeosang, finish in me! I need to be filled!" You managed out, practically begging to be stuffed as how your boyfriend usually would. Though it was Yeosang fucking you, you couldn't help but let the thought of both he and Jongho filling you up with their cum flash through. The mere thought sent shivers down your spine and your hips to suddenly roll.

Yeosang was trying his best to not lose control because Jongho hadn't said anything about allowing him to cum inside you. "A-are you su-re, (y/n)? I can just- fuck, I can just jerk myself off," he assured you. But you whined and started peppering kisses along his jawline, "Please fill me up, Yeosang, you said you- ah! You had to please me, right?" you pouted.

A grunt rumbled through Yeosang's chest and without much complaint, he began thrusting into you in shorter but more precise movements. The overstimulation was trying to get you but you tried your best to hold on by distracting yourself. Your left hand found purchase on Yeosang's right peck and your fingers automatically squeeze the soft flesh and your fingers toy the stiff peaks with each movement.

As it turns out, that seemed to set off Yeosang because suddenly he held your body flush against him and you felt his cum filling you up in spurts as his cock twitched inside you. The sensation made you let out a low hum and your head rolled to nest on the crook of Yeosang's neck.

For a moment, you both could only lay there, resting on each other as you tried to catch your breath. Your haze was dwindling down into a daydream and your body was adjusting so you could rest after the session you just had. Though you had Yeosang under you, you couldn't help but think of your boyfriend and how after this, you're going to need to thank him. But when Yeosang readjusted his position so that his head was resting against the armrest and your head was on his pecks, your thoughts shifted. You propped your arms on Yeosang's chest and your chin on them, smiling up at him, "What got you grinning?" Yeosang asked but he was returning your smile with his. You shrugged, "Not sure, maybe it was post-orgasm bliss," and you wanted to add that it could also be the fact that he had just confessed that he liked you in the middle of sex but you didn't want to make things awkward so you kept that little jewel to yourself.

"So," Yeosang cleared his throat, "Are you feeling happy and satisfied now?" he asked, suddenly remembering the task his friend had given him. You pursed your lips, momentarily thinking of an answer before a mischievous glint past your eyes. "I think... Not quite," you replied, your legs suddenly caging Yeosang's hips which effectively rubbed his softened cock the right way as seen from the way it was starting to twitch back to life. Taking the hint, Yeosang's tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip in hunger.

"Well, I did promise your boyfriend that I would do anything to make you happy, didn't I? We'll just have to keep doing it until you're completely... Satisfied."

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[chaotic-orphan]

Defiant Leader x Confident Villain (6)

Read part one here! //Continued from here

TW: VERY INTIMATE CREEPY WHUMPER WHO DOESN’T RESPECT BOUNDARIES, WHUMPER WHO DOESN’T UNDERSTAND NO, boundary pushing whumper, close proximity whumper, whumper making whumpee uncomfortable, borderline SA? Kind of? Idk how to tag it, just kind of borderline implied douchebag but i think it can be triggering for people so beware

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Leader?” Villain asked, lunging forward and grabbing Leader’s face in their hands. “Hey, hey. Leader?”

There wasn’t anything except panic racing through their mind as Villain’s fingers trailed down to Leader’s neck, pressing in gently on his pulse. Only then did they relax, tension leaving their shoulders and calves as they pushed back on their heels and just stared at Leader.

“You scared me, you dick,” Villain muttered to nobody. Leader must have passed out from the pain. Doctor did warn them that that could happen when she was training them. Maybe it was a good thing Leader was passed out while his bones fused themselves together again.

Villain ran a hand through their hair, blowing a breath through their lips as they began to pack up their bag. They unclipped the used needle head and put it in the bag of disposables. Supervillain wouldn’t notice one more used anyways, the bag was half full.

No, their rational voice drawled, sarcasm thick. Supervillain wouldn’t notice something so minute at seeing Leader’s healed hand that he took the effort to break. He’ll never notice.

Villain ignored it as they stood, bag in hand. It would be fine. They’d burn that bridge when they came to it.

Villain cranked the metal door open and froze. Supervillain’s sharp eyes met theirs. Villain, the usually calm and cool, collected Villain froze like a child with their hand caught in the cookie jar. Their skulduggery was even childish, quickly hiding the bag behind their back as if Supervillain hadn’t just seen it in their hands.

“Villain,” Supervillain said with a winning smile. Supervillain held a hand up to the person he was talking to, muttering something Villain couldn’t hear before he started walking towards Villain. “So funny, I was just looking for you.”

“Oh, really?” Villain asked, their voice coming out higher than they would’ve liked so they cleared it and pitched it down. “Well, I was just doing my rounds, sir.”

“Were you? So vigilant. How about I inspect it? Like the old days?”

The lie died on their lips at Supervillain’s pointed look. The look that didn’t accept No for an answer. Villain swallowed and inclined their head.

“Of course, sir,” they said pushing the door to Leader’s room back open. Supervillain stepped in and told Villain to shut the door again. Villain didn’t hesitate, though their arms felt heavy as they cranked the door shut again until it sealed properly.

Villain turned to face Supervillain. Even he was dwarfed by the size of the room. It was a bunker from World War II, Supervillain told them when he first showed Villain around. It stored plane parts and guns, ammunition. It was a giant concrete void of space, that Supervillain had repurposed to be his interrogation room.

Villain was far less flashy. The more claustrophobic the better for his victims, though… Leader was able to find the flaw in that approach.

“Hmm,” Supervillain said, drawing Villain’s eyes to his face. “Would you look at that, Villain. Leader’s hand is miraculously healed.”

Villain stepped forward. It was better to admit their guilt now then draw it out and incur Supervillain’s wrath twice.

“I can explain.”

“Can you? I’d love to hear it.”

Villain swallowed and paused, searching for the words because what the fuck were they supposed to say? Villain was Supervillain’s second best interrogator, his best torturer and here they were floundering for words to defend healing Leader’s hand. Their enemy. Supervillain’s prisoner.

Supervillain tilted his head. “No? Do you want me to explain?”

“No, Supervillain… I— listen, I—”

“No, no, no, no,” Supervillain said, wagging a finger at Villain. Only gently scolding them. “I have an even better idea. How about we ask Leader what happened?”

Villain’s eyes shot to Leader, still slumped in his seat and back to Supervillain again. “He’s passed out.”

“I can rectify that,” Supervillain said sweetly. Villain shook their head, holding their hands up placatingly.

“Wait, wait, wait — Supervillain, please. I can—”

“Explain. Please,” Supervillain said, bending to pick up the hammer. His kind, pleasant smile still on his face as he swung the hammer between his fingers. “While I still have some semblance of patience.”

Villain gathered their composure, stuttering wouldn’t help them pacify Supervillain. Villain forced their body to relax before speaking. “You broke every bone in his hand,” Villain said. “The risk of infection was high and then you’d get nothing out of him.”

“And what do I want to get out of him?”

Villain shifted their stance. “He knows exactly who hired him from the commission. He knows who is gunning for you, personally. Shouldn’t we at least try to extract that information before we ki—”

Villain choked on the word. Desperate eyes realising their mistake flashed to Supervillain, searching for sympathy.

“And we can’t extract that information from someone with a broken hand, can we, Villain?” Supervillain asker, sarcasm coating every word. “You’re the expert after all. My expert.”

Supervillain walked around Leader’s chair towards Villain, hammer still in hand. Villain swallowed hard, forcing themselves to remain upright. Not to falter or show weakness. They had no reason to be afraid of Supervillain. Supervillain was their friend. Supervillain trusted them.

Now if they could just assure their heart of that fact maybe it would stop jack-rabbiting in their chest. Supervillain stopped in front of Villain, staring down at them. Villain couldn’t quite meet their gaze so instead they stared at his shoulder. Supervillain swung the hammer between their fingers, but Villain didn’t flinch. Then the metal head of the hammer was under their chin, forcing their head up to meet Supervillain’s icy eyes.

Every muscle in their thighs tensed and released, getting ready to run which was ridiculous because why would they run from Supervillain? If their body could just catch up to their brain that would help them a bunch in this moment.

“I want you to grab the medic bag and bring it back to the medbay,” Supervillain told them. The tension almost melted from their body at his words. See? There was nothing to worry about! Villain nodded, though it wasn’t very effective with the hammer under their chin.

“Of course, sir.” Villain said, moving to grab the bag. The hammer stopped them, this time lightly on their cheek, turning their attention back to Supervillain. Something else hid behind Supervillain’s eyes now, like glittering amusement.

“I’m not finished. When you return the bag, I want you to grab the other for me.”

Villain’s brows drew down over their eyes. “The other bag, sir?”

“Yes,” Supervillain said with a grin. His eyes seemed to glisten with malice, drawing Villain further and further into their crystal blue depths. “Your toolkit.”

Villain stiffened. Supervillain’s smile cut into his face.

“And bring it back here, hmm? I think you’re right, Vil. I think we need to get information from him. Leader seems like a tough nut to crack, but, well, I don’t have to tell you that. You probably know all the things that make him tick. Where to poke and prod, and slice.”

Villain’s hands started shaking at their sides, which they quickly balled, trying to hide the tremble from Supervillain. The reluctance. Fuck. Fuck!

Supervillain wanted Villain to torture Leader… that is not what he meant when he said interrogate him! Villain was just trying to come up with a way that would leave Leader still breathing.

Because you care for him, a nasty voice said in the back of Villain’s head. Even after everything, you still care for him, and Supervillain knows.

This is a test.

Villain nodded again. “I couldn’t agree more, sir. Leader would never turn on his team without incentive.”

Supervillain hummed his approval, dropping the hammer from Villain’s cheek. “My, my Villain. You’re going after the whole team now. I didn’t know you could be so vicious.”

Villain inclined their head, a coy smile on their lips that made themself sick. “Of course you did, sir. It’s one of the reasons you keep me around.”

“We’ll see, won’t we?” Supervillain’s smile was pleasant. His words held a very thinly veiled threat. We’ll see if you stay around after torturing Leader. “Don’t be long! I can’t wait to see this.”

Villain didn’t trust their voice so they nodded. It seemed satisfactory enough. Villain grabbed the bag and walked to the door, cranking it open and stepping out. They froze as the door closed behind them, for just a second. They had to do this. They had to do this. They had to torture Leader, or else they would both end up on Supervillain’s to-be-killed list.

Villain didn’t want to end up in a cell next to Leader. Not with how hard they worked to climb the ranks of Supervillain’s organisation. Not to mention some of the enemies Villain had made here who would just love to see them taken down a peg. Reduced to nothing, another prisoner for them to torture. No, Villain refused to put themself in that position. Not even Leader would get in their way of that.

They took their time bringing the bag back to the medbay, grateful that it was on the other side of the bunker, closer to the entrance. It made sense if anyone got injured in the field, but… it was also closer to Villain’s room. Or rather, their workshop, as Supervillain called it.

Villain’s footsteps seemed to echo down the halls, bouncing off the walls and back to their ears, as loud as gunshots. They shouldn’t have tried to help Leader in the first place! What kind of idiot were they? Healing a prisoner? One that Supervillain had personally seen to! They let their emotions get in the way once, they were not about to make the same mistake twice.

Villain opened the door to their workshop. It was a glorified shed of a room with all different torture devices hung perfectly on the wall. Everything was even from the hooks to the actual tools; sorted in groups that made sense to Villain, whips and blunt objects on one side, knives in a group of their own, and miscellaneous others, like tasers and pliers on the other.

Villain glared at the objects now, bending and grabbing his leather bag from under the metal table. Their mutinous brain was working against them, cataloging all the different things that would make Leader break. The knives were Villain’s favourite, but they doubted Leader would break under that kind of pain. It stung, but only for a little while. Still… It was Villain’s specialty and Supervillain would raise his brows if Villain came back without any.

Villain packed a few, and their nasty whip that left their victims screaming and sobbing in their restraints, begging for mercy.

Villain froze as a horrible thought crossed their mind. Leader would turn into one of their victims now. One of their actual victims. Villain was going to have to make Leader beg and plead and cry and scream— they screwed their eyes shut trying to scrub the image from their mind.

It would soon be undeniably in front of them as they caused the damage anyways. They just needed to retreat to that unemotional recess in their brain. Turn on survival mode, just do what they needed to do and hate themselves later for it.

It would be easy, they told themselves. Maybe if they told themselves that enough, they might actually start to believe it. Well… they could live in hope.

“Knock, knock,” Villain straightened, their back going rigid at the voice. “Hey Vil, I saw you sneak into your friend’s room earlier. Are you bringing them something to keep them entertained while they visit?”

Villain turned, not bothering to hide the look of revulsion that appeared on their face whenever they saw Rival. Rival was the definition of a piece of shit personified. He was tall, a creep that made Villain’s skin crawl, and handsome which automatically gave him a licence to be the world’s leading expert on how to not respect people’s boundaries. Rival thought everyone was in love with him, and could give a masterclass on: how to be a bastard while sucking up to your superiors.

“Yeah. Do you want to come? I can beat the shit out of you while they watch, that should keep them entertained.”

Rival smiled his horrible, handsome smile. He had to bend slightly to step through the door into Villain’s workshop. Villain glared at him as he walked over to the wall of knives and took one between his fingers.

“Oh, how I’d love to come and watch…” Rival said, shooting Villain a sideways glance. “You know how much I love to watch you work.”

Villain’s nose scrunched up in distaste. “You ratted me out to Supervillain.”

“Ratted you out? No. Never,” Rival said, turning his body to Villain’s and stepped closer. Rival pressed the flat of the blade under Villain’s chin, tilting their head up to look him in the eye. He had chocolate brown eyes that reminded Villain a little of Medic’s, but where Medic’s were cold and logical, Rival’s were a sickening kind of warm. “Supervillain just asked about your whereabouts and I told him the last place I saw you was in the medbay.”

Villain’s glare turned cutting. “Oh don’t look at me like that, Vil,” Rival said with a pout. “We’re on the same team here.”

Rival stepped impossibly closer, forcing Villain’s head up at an uncomfortable angle. “Why is it you can get along with everyone else but me, hmm?”

Villain’s arm twitched up but they stopped when they felt the blade knick their throat. Rival’s eyes got brighter as Villain felt a bead of blood surface.

“Maybe because not everyone here is a creep like you.”

Rival smirked down at Villain. “It’s just the two of us here, Vil,” Rival said with a honeyed voice, dragging the blade up, tracing the outline of Villain’s skull with the tip of the dagger. Rival’s hand replaced the blade at Villain’s throat, tightening when Villain tried to step away. “You like all the attention I give you. Admit it.”

Villain swallowed, feeling the weight of Rival’s hand like a collar as they did.

“Supervillain’s expecting me,” is all Villain replied, expression blank. The corner of Rival’s lips twitched up, but he let Villain go. Villain went back to packing their bag, as if Rival wasn’t there.

Villain was glad of the distraction, ignoring the slight tremble in their hands that usually followed an interaction with Rival. They walked over to the chemical cabinet. The drugs that drove Supervillain’s prisoners mad, that heightened all sensation and set nerves alight in agony.

Supervillain was more sadistic than Villain. He liked when people screamed and cried, and writhed in pain. Even when Villain told him it wasn’t necessary to get information. Especially traitors. He liked to sit in and watch them in their lowest moments, screaming and begging for help, for a mercy that Supervillain would never give.

Rival’s eyes never left Villain as they moved about, packing the last of the things they needed in their bag. They grabbed the handles of their bag in one hand, about to zip it up when Rival’s hand slid over Villain’s and stopped them.

“Take this one too, Vil,” Rival said, depositing the knife he used to knick Villain’s throat into the bag. Villain shivered as Rival brushed the small cut on their throat, ignoring his hungry gaze. “Trust me when I say it’s work is delightful.”

Villain didn’t say anything in return. They zipped up the bag and turned away from Rival, only focused on getting away from the monster beside them. Once they stepped out of the corridor of their workshop, Villain put their hand over their mouth and sucked in a startled breath, tears pricking the backs of their eyes. They wanted to be sick, but Supervillain…

Supervillain was… Supervillain was expecting them. They took the moment to gather themselves before straightening again and walking purposefully towards Leader’s cell.

Villain held their head high. They could compartmentalise that encounter until later. Right now they had to be Supervillain’s Villain. Supervillain’s protégé, his in house torture expert and interrogator. They had no time to be regular Villain.

Hell… Villain hadn’t seen that vulnerable side to themselves in a while. Maybe Leader did make them weak. Maybe they would have never reached their potential if they had stayed with Leader… and Medic and Rogue…

They steeled their heart once they turned down the hall of Leader’s cell. Reminiscing wouldn’t help them with what was to come. In fact, it would most likely hurt them and prevent them from doing what they had to do. What needed to be done. Their loyalty to Leader was dead and they had to prove it.

Villain wasn’t an idiot, this was a test. To see when it came down to it, who was Villain really? The pathetic nobody that Leader remembered or a valued member of Supervillain’s organisation?

Not only that, but which one served them better at this moment in time? This was the last thing that Villain wanted to do today, but whatever God that was watching them was a sadistic freak that liked to see Villain suffer. Maybe they deserved Rival’s attention, maybe it was their karma for what they were about to do.

Villain took a breath and opened the door then disappeared inside, the metal cranking closed behind them.

*~*~*~*~*

A.N — Sorry it’s short, and also a cliffhanger, it would have been too long if I continued it but next part soon!!! Thank you for reading :)

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[daydreamsandcrashingwaves]

Keeping It Close To The Chest Pt 1

Edited 12/25/23 ~~ Here's Part Two ~~

Part Three Part Four

I devoured the Damian Wayne and Danny Fenton are Twins tags and had to make something of my own to add. This is my first fanfic I've decided to post. I'm much more familiar with the DP side of things but I gave it my best shot. Hope this brings joy anyway. If I decide to post this on A03 I will have it beta'd since I made this in like four parts and then wove them together so the flow may not always be there whoopps.. but for now I just wanted to share this with all you!

TW/CW: Medical experimentation and trauma, parental abuse/neglect, wound description, blood-ectoplasm and human, death (it's danny, he's the culprit lol will apply to Jason too if I add to this), body horror (to be safe), PTSD and flashbacks, childhood trauma and abuse, dehumanization

If I missed a tag/warning please let me know! I've never been an extensive tagger so i tried real hard to get everything, but I am human and could've missed something. Much love, stay safe.

~Ren

He had to keep moving. He could still hear their screams of rage ringing in his ears. Faster, he had to be faster. His blind panic had created an opportunity, a sliver of hope Danyal was determined to twist to his advantage. He was limping forward on uncertain legs. His vision swayed with the movement, and he fought to keep upright. His chest was on fire, Danny pressed his hands tightly to the wound there in a desperate attempt to keep his organs from spilling out like confetti. He kept his arms tucked close and rounded his shoulders to try and keep his torso still while he moved quickly through the empty streets of his once home. His chest was by far injured the worst, but he had paid no mind to the others. If he dared to stop, he would fully die.

Even in his human form, Danny just knows he's leaving a glowing blood trail behind him, the ectoplasm burning into the ground behind him. Whatever side of his transformation his body was currently showing it didn't matter, he was simultaneously both, always. The trail was evidence he transformed due to necessity, he became so durable after dying that it took a lot to hurt him. Danny risked a glance down and paled further. The green he spilled as Phantom mixed with red. A fucked up corrosive bread trail right to him. He was sure he truly was in deep shit. He just had to get to his go bag. Over time with his parent's inventions getting more dangerous the more Danny had to think about putting into motion The Great Escape.

Anything important he had always kept hidden, but Danny had taken everything out of his room once he had died the second time, and Danny was grateful for the convenience to be able to phase things into walls, floors, ceilings. It made his things pretty secure; no human could find it and any ghost that came through was too focused on their obsession or fighting him to go on a treasure hunt for his hidden things.

Danny's willful ignorance of his body as he stumbles farther from FentonWorks doesn’t stop the slight burn of his ectoplasm against the edges of his wounds and the tatters of his hazmat suit pulling on the scabbing blood or the smell. Ancients the smell. It’s rancid, he hasn’t been able to cycle it properly without his normal supply of fresh ectoplasm from the Zone. Only provided in small bursts when his parents wanted to see how his body healed with and without ectoplasm. He can feel the whispers of his terror, anger, grief that’s flowing through his blood.

He had been overconfident way back when he had threatened Vlad with exposing his secret. He had thought they'd love him despite having kept his halfa status from them, he hadn't been prepared for the distrust, the hatred, the way they moved farther and farther from thought out experiments to revenge. Danny knows Maddie and Jack still see him as the quiet, shaken child so desperate to be good, craving acceptance by the eccentric family that took him in when they look at him. If Danny had to guess they had been so blinded in their rage to even realized it was their machine, their failure that made him this way. Now they really did want him dead.

He’s whole somehow, despite their best effort, he just needs time. Ancients, He’s not exactly the monster they pictured, but He's not human... He’s whole.

The thought tastes bitter and Danny strangles it before it can expand. He must be focused. Taking a measured breath Danny turns down a familiar alley, he goes intangible with a slight twinge in his core, slipping into the bathroom of Nasty Burger. He’s done this so many times the familiar path brings comfort, reassurance. Like maybe things will start to turn for the better. Making his way over to the stall Danny debated whether it was worth climbing the toilet or floating up there. No, it was better to grit his teeth and bare it. There were only three containers of ectoplasm in his bag, he needed to preserve what strength he had. He would soon have no way to access the Zone for a refill.

Danny took one hand and placed it on the wall before careful stepping up. Lifting his leg had sent waves of pain across his nerves but with a grunt he leveraged himself up. His vision went black at the edges, he was dizzy, and bile clawed at the back of his throat. Danny took a few breaths, while he might not need to breathe, he’s been human longer than not, and well.. he’s only half ghost so the habit carried over to when he's Phantom. Danny was immensely grateful for his time in the League, the training was brutal, he still has nightmares about dying the first time but.. he did learn how to survive in situations that if he was truly a Fenton, would've killed him many times over. As Danny was Danyal Al Ghul Fenton, he always had back up plans. His Mother had been heavy handed with those lessons.

It was painful to think about Talia. She had been Grandfather’s favored child and the weight of his expectations of his grandsons was enforced by her. Lessons or punishment, very rarely praise was given to Danny by his Mother's hand. Each milestone was meticulously observed and reported back, doubly so for their failures. Tiny bodies with too big of weapons, green and blue eyes, a face mirroring his own but twisted in determination, competition. His older brother, his twin. They were inseparable, until they weren't.

Danny's core throbs in his chest, he wanted to shy away from the thought, yet the inconsolable part of him screams at the injustice of being the only one to escape their Grandfather. If only Danny could've proven himself, perhaps his brother would've had a chance to leave in his stead, but Danny knows just how much he was lacking in comparison to his brother, and it was their skill, or lack thereof in Danny's case, that sealed their fates. Danny was able to avoid Ra's overseeing eyes when they moved off the failure of a Spare and homed in on his true Heir. The grandson who took to their lessons like a duck in water. Deathly beautiful, Danny used to think as he watched his brother dance and fly through his training. Talia couldn't defy Ra's orders but if she just.. misplaced.. the Spare that was abandoned, well, no one has come for him yet.

Danny knows she loved him, somewhere hidden, deep inside his Grandfather's perfect pet assassin. She loved him enough to send him away when it became clear Ra’s saw no need in the Spare that was no longer needed, she had loved him when she had beaten him and left mortal wounds-their only chance to fool Grandfather, she loved him when she had given him his packed bag and left him outside that orphanage in Chicago with lazarus water raging in his veins, and she loved him when she told him to forget.

Forget about the League her and his brother, his family.

With brief tight squeeze to his small shoulder her she told him if he was in danger to find Bruce Wayne and then Talia Al Ghul was gone and Danyal-just Danyal now- was left truly on his own for the first time ever.

Danny was definitely in danger now; his situation was grave and despite everything the pun brought a small smile to his face. He couldn’t go back home to the Fenton's. He tries to forget how he froze in his surprise when he realized his parents didn’t take his reveal as Phantom as well as they had let on. They had smiled and stalled until they had found a way to contain him. By then it was too late, he had gotten too complacent in his run on a normal life.

Only after Ancients knows how long he had been resisting, pleading, screaming-I’m still Danny, it hurts mom please, I’m still me, Dad I’m alive- did Maddie find his core. Too tired to move it away from her gaze any longer and when her fingers brushed it the wave of mind-numbing terror exploded out of him. Something must've been on her gloves because his core burned. It ripped a wail from his throat while he writhed on the table. Ice responded like it never was taken from him by the anti-ghost restraints.

Danny could still distantly feel the ghostly ice that had trapped them in place and shattered his restraints under the pressure the frozen water bursting into existence. Even trapped in his ghost ice they were steadily working on getting out and would be on the hunt for him again soon. He wouldn't allow them to catch him again.

The mere idea they’d be on their way already spurred Danny back into action. Slipping his hand into the wall he grabbed the strap and pulled his bag out, careful to keep it weightless, and slid off the toilet and back down to the floor. He hasn't seen his dagger in months, it hurt too much to practice without Dami, his other half. Here it is though, innocently tied to his bag and his gaze traced it lovingly, before searching inside the biggest pocket for his first aid kit. He didn't have time for stiches, so he reaches for the butterfly bandages and starts to pull the skin together before securing it. It's really the first proper look he gets, it's... unsettling at the very least, horrifying, to see a wound reserved for autopsies on his chest.

The Y incision is inflamed and still bleeding so he carefully follows its path until he's done. Grabbing gauze, he starts to reinforce pad, wrapping a roll of bandages around to hold everything in place. Danny bites his lip and thinks for a moment, he will need stitches, he's been wounded enough in this half-life to know that. The likelihood for his work to stay in place while he flies is less than he'd like. Making a decision and with a mental shrug he takes an ectoshot from the smaller pocket and stabbed it into his thigh before pressing the depressor. Pure energy zapped through his system hard, angerly surges to settle in his chest. Feeling a bit better but more.. wired Danny takes a second to calm. Steeling himself he tries to nudge his core, it responds in a weak pulse.

Danny's body protests, he can feel his muscles shred and reform, his bones twist like taffy, his organs melt together before settling to form his ectobody. It's all over in a flash of bright light, yet the pain felt endless. Overwhelming in its intensity but gone just as quickly as it came leaving Danny sweaty and panting. Transforming injured was tricky, he had to carefully picture where the bandages were, so he didn't lose all his hard work.

Confusion settled as a fog, clinging to his thoughts, making them murky. His hands were covered in blood, his body hurt, and he couldn't quite remember why, there was a siren coming closer. Everything in him screamed to run, to escape, but his hunters were too close now, freed from his ice to kill him fully. On instinct Danny's nails grew to claws, ripping into space to create a portal. He was weak, always had been, but he was good at running, hiding away in the shadows. Ghost was once a name of his, a proud title, not just what he is now.

Just as the doors burst open in a teal and orange blur Danny dove into the swirling green and hoped Clockwork was watching so at least someone knew things had exploded here in Amity. He hasn't needed to be on his own like this since after Jazz first saw him and demanded that her parents bring Danny home with them. He misses her now as the path out of Nasty Burger closes behind him. Danny's falling, dropping towards the ground too fast for eyes to track but his impact had definitely shaken the room. With a pained whine and a flash Danny was back to being human again, his landing had pulled at whatever scab was able to form in the twentyish minutes it took him to drag himself away from the basement. Danny was going to be sick, the sticky cool liquid that had his clothes clinging to him, was going to be very alarming when he finally could give himself a proper once over. He could feel the new bruises as he tried to roll off the pallets he had crushed.

"Oh! Someone decided to drop by! " A man called out with glee as he sauntered in his direction. "Shall we see who our special guest is?" Danny could feel the rotten soul as he got closer. Too close. Forgoing moving Danny tensed in anticipation. He was hurt, yes, but he would go down fighting. He could do that much to make his brother proud, even if he never realized Danny lived to 15 not 5. Before he could uncurl to swing at the man there was the soft sound of fabric rustling and a blade being drawn. Curling tighter Danny hoped he had enough juice to go intangible.

"You will not reach your goal Joker; Do you not get sick of trying?" The voice was smooth, deeper than he remembered but it's been 10 years, it's understandable that puberty changed his brother's voice. Danny would recognize it anywhere. Danny jinxed himself, somehow. How he ended up in the same room as the brother he hadn't seen in a decade, Danny wasn't sure. He was terrified though. Where Damian was the League and their Grandfather wasn't far behind. Damian had carefully hidden away his care as a child but would shower Danny in it in the darkness of their room. After years apart and Grandfather's continued influence Danny was uncertain how much of Damian truly remained.

There was a burst of noise, of movement and a struggle then silence covered the room. Danny's hands were shaking. "Nightwing, first aid is required inside, bring the kit." His brother paused, "No, a civilian, a metahuman if his unusually colored blood is to be taken into account."

Danny could feel his brother's scrutiny, his gaze held weight as it scanned over his collapsed form, he tried to curl more but a hand brushing his shoulder had Danny screaming and scrambling away.

Damian's hands twitched at his side, an aborted motion to draw his sword. He seemed to pause then they flew up empty, placating- it didn't bring Danny any comfort.

An assassin's greatest tool was always their hands. Green eyes tracked him, narrowing at the way Danny was shrinking into the shadows. Dread swam down his spine to settle hard in his gut. Of all the ways to meet his brother again, it had to be when he was dying, for a third time. Danny reached blindly for whatever was next to him to pull himself up, his knees wobbled precariously but he would be standing for this. He had to be. Black spots were now in his vision, but he forced a smirk onto his face. Danny was sure he was a sight to see, torn clothes, skin riddled with bruises, green and red blood splattered all over like a kindergartener's messy painting of Christmas, limp dirty hair.

Danny knows Damian is assessing him, taking in what he can see in front of him to efficiently deal with it as they were trained to do. potential strengths and weaknesses. Behind both the domino mask and his calm exterior Damian is taking in a snapshot. Danny wonders what he sees, if his brother recognizes the boy he’s grown into, Danny’s core thrums wildly and he tries not to fidget. The slight frown that pulls at Damian’s mouth means he caught the aborted motion.

"Damn, green, yellow and red... You look like a traffic light!" He gets one giggle in before he chokes on it. Danny can't breathe. His brother had gone deathly still when Danny spoke. He could see the war of emotions fighting through his brother, suspicion was quickly doused with rage. "How dare she." The Arabic was an unexpected comfort, but Danny felt confusion at the words. He's severely out of practice, he thought he understood but doubt settled in. He wasn't sure.

Damian had always stood firm next to him in the League, calm, driven and decisive, the perfect heir for their Grandfather. He was always warm to Danny though, would allow traces of his true feelings to be visible when Damian would inevitably catch Danny sneaking out of his bed to stargaze. Danny would get scolded, every time. Grandfather would punish him harshly for such indulgences, he knew it. Attachments were weaknesses and Grandfather would not grow weakness in the League, in his heirs. Danny may be weak and the Spare but he was smart. He knows what the looks of distaste meant from his Grandfather. He knew how his failures would catch up to him and how Grandfather disapproved of his influence on Damian. Yet Danny kept going back, hiding in the shadows to gaze at the stars and wait for his brother to come find him.

Danny had braced for Damian to be mad when he realizes Danny didn’t truly die that day and has stayed away from his brother, but Danny couldn’t have expected this.

Pure hatred lights up in Damian’s eyes when he finally realizes what is in front of him. It's Danny’s undoing. Everything else that has happened seemed like a cakewalk compared to being rejected by the person who had always understood him most. Ghosts are the manifestation of their emotions. Frostbite had explained once how injuries can manifest in a ghost's form on their own. Emotional pain could make them unravel down to their cores, until even that disappeared.

For Danny, there was uncertainty, halfas were so rare that there wasn’t much off hand knowledge, but Danny has always known from the second he died. There was no separation between his human and ghost halves. He just was. What fancy wrapping he showed off hardly mattered. Things bleed so easily between them, Danny Fenton and Phantom.

"I'll kill her painfully for this, but you abomination it will be swift." Damian has balanced on his toes, ready for a quick burst of speed. His sword now clenched so tightly in his hands it almost shakes.

An abomination the words looped through Danny's mind. The wounded sob that came forth when he opened his mouth to reply was unexpected. Danny took halting steps back from his twin. The hitching breath brought his attention back to his chest. This wasn't how Danny had pictured this moment, all those years of stolen daydreams. His core felt wrong in his chest. He felt cold, cold and brittle but his chest was on fire-and wet. The surgical cut seeping like its minutes fresh, this was by far Danny’s worst idea, to believe to ever hope, his brother would ever keep a monster by his side Danny was a fool to hope even for a moment-hands hands reaching for him to bring him back, grabbing his arm-

“No! I don't know! No please” Danny gasps as he flails weakly “I’m sorry I’m sorry!”

Damian hesitates again, before his resolve firms, "Danyal-" His name cracks over his brother's tongue. Danny isn't aware enough to unpack the way his brother's face twists in heartbreak the longer he watches Danny bleed. A warm body comes up behind him, blocking him in, he’s crying now, a weakness that he never could smother. "No!" Danny avoids his gaze scrambling to grip onto whatever fabric is in his hands. Danny wants the moment to last but he knows what’s coming. Damian won’t protect him now. His older brother had been steadfast by his side in their childhood, but now… now maybe it was better he’s bleeding out.

Danny vaguely registered the man behind him cutting off his shirt, kit at the ready besides him. Pressure on his wound forces a long high whine from his throat. He wants to shove it away, his hand swatting at it but he missed, and it thuds uselessly on the ground. He doesn't have the energy to try again.

The shock of a hot hand against his face brings everything into abrupt focus. Danny flinches but can’t move, the body unyielding behind him. He sees the room is covered in his frost and ice. Batman and Red Robin are farther back, their feet trapped in the ghostly ice, they had things in hand to try and hack away at the ice trapping them in place.

“Danyal” The pain in his twin's voice has him turning in that direction; his brother was there. For how well they could read each other in childhood Danny had no clue what his brother was thinking now. His twice dead brother, back to only die again at his feet. “Are you destabilizing? Why were you sent here? What does Mother want?”

“What?” Danny can’t help the laugh that bursts out of him, even if it hurts, it seems his ice kept his organs in place while he tumbled through his hastily made portal. He must've lost consciousness at some point though; his ice seems to have melted to leaving him fully exposed. “That bitch- She has nothing to do with this- wait. You think-” Danny laughs even harder until he can’t breathe and he’s hacking and spitting up more ectoplasm. He’s pulled more fully against the warm body behind him, his head lulls-oh it’s Nightwing, the blatant concern radiating from the man stings Danny’s eyes and a few tears scatter down his face.

“I’m not a clone Dami, I didn’t even know you weren’t with the League anymore." Danny's speech slurs more the harder he tries to piece sentences together, "I'm sorry I don't know how I ended up here.” Danny is growing quieter the longer he talks- can feel his life draining onto the floor and there’s panic in the air now, Batman had sprung up next to Damian's side. Seemed to say something to Damian before he retreated slightly. Batman was hovering ready to interfere but unsure in what actions needed to take place.

Damian is staring at him intently, looking to match his scars to the one's he remembers. He taps his fingers insistently on Danny's cheek and Danny doesn't fight looking back at him. The fingers linger against the scar hidden behind his hair next to his ear, traces the edges. Damian was the one to give it to him, a training error. He had looked at Danny similarly to how he was now. Fear, regret, panic. Words are being said, they blend together, warp, so Danny just hums in response. Everything is more distant now. Danny's own fear floating out of reach. He knows death intimately, he's not afraid to greet her a third time.

The words became frantic as he struggles to stay awake, and someone was talking again. “-ood to see you though- no tss okay no pain.. mma be cold soon-" Oh. That's Danny. The face he has ached to see for years fills his vision. The shade of green he could never replace. Danny was picked up and hustled out a door into the by Nightwing while a harsh discussion flew over his head. They were in some sort of vehicle now, the door shutting causes silence to blanket the group. His head is in Damian's lap, and it takes a second, but Danny realizes Damian is carting his fingers through his greasy hair. His other hand was holding Danny's, playing with his fingers like he did as children. Danny's vision fills with tears and spills down his face.

"Danyal? Can you hear me?" Damian calls his attention softly, his sweet, sweet brother tries to keep the concern out of his voice, off his face. Once he sees Danny focus on him a trembling smile makes its home on Damian's face. His domino mask is gone, Danny drinks in the unobscured view of his brother. "We'll be back to the Cave shortly, Alfred will attend to you, then you're going to tell me exactly how this happened so I can make sure it never does again." Danny can tell Damian is scared, the minute tremble in his petting only confirmed it. Danny let a smile tug at his lips too, "It's gonna be okay Dami" Danny slurred, he hears Damian insisting they were almost home.

Home with Damian. That was a fool's dream, just out of reach. Danny never indulged in the idea; he wouldn't put Dami in danger by reappearing. But- Danny was with him now, a twitch of his fingers against Damian's proves it. Danny went limp as the Batmobile skidded into the Cave, Damian was a silent statue watching Alfred take his brother away from him. Batman saddled up next to him- Damian should shower and change, whatever it was that changed his brother was making his skin itch- but he couldn't move. His baby brother was in there, dying, again.

"Damian, chum... what was all that?" Damian ignores his eyes itching as tears built, he clears his throat to report- reporting was vital with their nighttime activities, Father needed information to help Danny. He couldn't take his eyes of the little glowing red 'In Use' sign above the surgery door though.

Damian cuts a glance at the man next to him, more Bat than Father at the moment. "Once Danyal is stable, I will give you an explanation Father."

~~~~

I thought of a name, added it to the tags, I'll add a link to the next post if I write one, will tag future posts with 'Keeping It Close To The Chest' as well

much love

~Ren

[itsgrimeytime]

The Nurse (Part Two) || Rick Grimes (TWD)

Part 1, Part 2

Taglist: @strnqer, @1985bitch, @curlycarley, @imaginemyfavoritefics,

Summary: Before all this, you were a nurse. A nurse who had patients, one of which was a man in a coma. A sheriff, you think, it was all kinda fuzzy now. When it all went sideways, you set up what you could for the man - but had to leave. You'd always wondered where he'd ended up; until in your search of shelter, you run into a familiar face.

TWS: Blood, gore, hospital mention, mentions of death, gun violence (just violence in general), swearing, all things typical of TWD.

[[A/N: Let me know if you want to be tagged! And this time is loosely based on S3, E5, where Daryl and Maggie go to get baby supplies for Judith. I will not be following the story to a T though, and will kinda carve out my own path, it's been ages since I've seen it so, any weird story omits or things I don't mention are just not happening here lol. And I know this is kinda fast, I'm just writing as I feel like it, so don't expect super quick updates all the time, but here's a treat. Thanks for reading!]]

You stopped, hand resting on a tree, just for a moment. Taking some deep breaths, you scanned the area, looking for anything familiar or anything that you could, at least, stay the night in. You were practically running on less than an hour of sleep, the pure adrenaline of surviving being the only thing forcing your eyes open.

Currently, your plan was to use some old lipstick you'd found in a purse - somewhere along the road - to mark trees. Leaving a trail, so you knew where you'd been and where you were going. It was simple, and would probably wash away in the rain, but it was enough for now.

With an exhale, you kept moving deeper into the forest - a hope for a cabin, deep in your heart. An unoccupied cabin.

It's not that you didn't want to help people. You truly did. And if you found anyone who needed it, you would - other straggling groups with limps and cuts and bruises. You'd give them advice on how to clean wounds properly, some regular items they could use. If an injury was more serious, you'd stay with them just for a while to watch the person, keep an eye on whatever you had to.

It never stuck, though. You found it easier to be alone, to be on the move. You could help more people that way.

Plus, there were... others. Driven to madness by the tragedy, brutally ready to kill at first sight for whatever fucked up reason they came up with. Some of them had used you for a while, providing you food and shelter, just to ship off wounded soldiers to you - ones they wounded themselves. It was eerily familiar to your previous job, and you almost fell into a rhythm - even thinking about it now, it snuck a knot of guilt in your stomach. One too many threats, and you found yourself back to traveling.

The scrubs you still wore stuck to your skin, hair matted and blood soaked - you imagined this wasn't one of your best days. But it honestly probably wasn't your worst either.

And then, you heard it. The snap of a twig.

"Fuck," you whispered barely even a breath, pulling your duffel over your side and readying your fire axe. (You'd grabbed it back at the hospital, all that time ago.)

There was something to be said about a single snap of a twig because the dead were noisy.

They were unaware - would continue down the path, crunching leaves and snapping more twigs, dragging their feet through the dirt. In different circumstances, they could sneak up on you. With the soft grass under their feet and the hum of the animals in the forest mixing in with their own tones, sometimes you had to rely on the quietest of noises.

But this forest? No.

Without thinking a second more, you spun behind the nearest tree, the red of the lipstick - grazing along your fingers.

"What, so-" a voice spoke, "-we just give up?"

"No," a gruff tone responded, hair a little overgrown, and what seemed to be a crossbow on his back, "-Just means we got some extra work to do."

The woman, who had short brunette hair and a pistol in her hands, said, "Yeah, and we're gonna do it. We... have to. She deserves a chance."

"Of course," the man responded, a little bit upset she even insinuated he wouldn't care.

You watched carefully, eyes following the pair as they roamed through the woods - before stopping in front of one of your trees, your marked trees.

"Fuck," you muttered, so soft, the wind could’ve whisked it away, exhaling carefully and turning around to face the other way.

"What's that?" the woman asked, a tone of mixed concern and curiousity.

There was a scrape, and you could only assume the man touched the lipstick mark, as he hummed, "Not blood."

"I think..." the woman muttered, the slight slur of her accent becoming stronger, "-I think it's lipstick."

The man huffed, his accent strong, "What for?"

There was more leave crunching, and the woman replied, "Maybe a path? I don't..."

"Hello?" the man spoke, and you heard the click of metal, like he'd moved his gun up, "Is anyone there?"

The woman seemed to keep moving, leaves crunching getting closer and closer to your ears, you knew they'd notice an end of the path.

You needed to do something quick.

"I'll give ya 'til a count of 3," the man spoke, the metal clicking once more, "-one."

Your breaths shook, as you debated your options, based on what you'd seen the gun the man had was long range. So, running was out of the question.

"Two," his accent lilted.

Your feet were almost rooted in fear, what if it happened again? What if all you were surrounded by was death? What if they used you and then killed you next? God, you couldn't die, not now. Not after everything you'd done.

"Three," he added, tone more aggressive, and the click of the metal once more sending fear down your spine.

You couldn't wait any longer, squeezing your eyes shut, you spun around, "Wait!"

Expecting the blossoming pain, you flinched. Yet, after a moment, nothing happened.

You cracked open your eyes, and saw two guns trained at you, the woman and man now in clear sight. Noticing now, the bags full placed at their feet, you wondered if they thought you were here for their supplies.

Without hesitation, the man straightened his gun and asked, "Are ya bit?"

"No," you answered quickly, flourishing your arms forward as if to show the lack of teeth marks, "-no, I'm clean, you can check."

"What's your name?" the woman spoke, tone solid and unmoving.

"Y-Y/N." you stuttered out, looking down the barrel of two guns wasn't exactly calming.

The man, a bit distant, replied, "What are you doing out here?"

"I..." you exhaled, trying to calm your shaking hands which were still caked in blood (as the rest of you were), "-I'm just looking for shelter for the night. Look, I don't mean you two any harm, just leave me be and I'll-"

The woman faltered, her green eyes flickering with emotion -just for a second, "You need shelter?"

"Uh, yes," you spoke, a bit bewildered that they were listening but too tired to question it, "-I haven't slept in 3 days, I just need some rest and I'll be-"

"Maggie," the man spoke stern and low, and you weren't sure you were supposed to hear it.

The sun was setting now, and if they had some shelter, this was your last chance for the night and you were just so tired. What else could you do?

Maybe you could bring something to the table.

Interrupting their hushed conversations, you began, "I... I heard you say a 'she' earlier, is there something wrong with her?"

The two stopped talking, the man's icy glare set on you, "Why you askin'?"

"I-If she's sick, I can help," you beckoned, "-I come from a hospital, I have all kinds of medical supplies. I-I can show you if you want. And-"

The man interrupted again, as the woman, Maggie you now knew, carefully watched you, "You a doctor of some kind?"

You paused, waiting for a moment before responding, "Y-yes. I'm a nurse, er well, I used to be. I... I worked at Harrison Memorial Hospital when it all went down."

The woman started this time, "And you're willing to help us?"

"Yes," you asserted, "-as long as I have a place to stay for the night. That's... that's all I ask."

"But you'll stay as long as we need ya?"

You furiously nodded, "Of course. I won't... I won't leave someone I know I can help behind."

The two turned to each other, before slowly pointing their guns to the ground. You exhaled a big breath of relief as your heartbeat slowed, muttering out, "Thank god."

The woman, held out her hand, "Maggie."

You hesitated for a moment, at the current state of your hands, before accepting it with a quick shake.

"Daryl," the man added, hand extended as well. You shook his, and began to follow in their footsteps -leading about west of where you were headed just earlier.

"Are you with a group?" Maggie asked, strolling along the woodlands.

"No," you replied, "-I... I come and go. Sometime people need a doctor so I help, but-"

The two looked at you, still watching you to say something wrong. They were still heavily armed afterall. The thought made your hands shake.

"I ended up in some shady places," you continued, "-because I stayed. So, I don't really stay anymore."

Daryl hummed in response, and Maggie simply looked at you with eyes of hesitant trust. Like she wanted desperately to trust you, but it seemed hard. You didn't blame her. Not really.

The last time you trusted someone, it hadn't gone well then either. This world is not one of trust, you knew that.

"We have a group," Maggie continued, walking in step with you as Daryl scouted ahead, "-it's small but we don't trust too well."

"Right," you murmured, expecting as much.

Daryl hummed, "We have a leader too. You'll have to meet him. You gonna be alright with that?"

Before you could even respond, Maggie interjected -an unsettled look in her eyes, "Daryl, is he even... in the space to do this?"

"Don't have to be," he responded, a little coldly, but you figured that was just kind of his tone at this point, "-he's gotta. I'll talk to 'em."

You furrowed your eyebrows, a question on your tongue, but found the following silence was not one to be interrupted. Without thought, you simply adjusted your bag and continued along. Their path was set as if this happened often, and the knowledge that you were going to a very settled camp irked you just a little.

A dynamic that felt substantial in this post-apocalyptical world usually wasn't the kindest. Oftentimes, it was 'kill or be killed'.

You knew that well, staring down at your hands (which had definitely dried by now) -you wished you had a way to wash them off. But the water was too precious to risk anyone's supplies, frankly. It reminded you of before, when veins would rupture, when hearts wouldn't beat, and everything felt like it was on the line.

An exhale, and you scrubbed your hands on your pants.

It felt immoral, as you held a fire axe in your hands. Weren't you supposed to save people? Wasn't that in the oath?

Shaking your head, you glanced ahead at the pair wondering how exactly this group operated -where they had a protocol for finding people. That wasn't... You hadn't seen much of it.

"This group," you questioned, "-how long have you guys been together?"

"Long enough," Daryl answered, curtly, "-prove yourself and you might just have a spot with us." Maggie hummed in agreement, pulling her pistol close to her chest, as a large barbed wire fence came into your view. And... were those... watchtowers?

"Is this...?" You trailed off, eyes taking in the surrounding concrete and the few stragglers either slowly trudging to the group you found yourself in, or mindlessly clawing at the tall fences as if it would do anything.

"Our base," Maggie finished, pulling her pistol to attention and shooting one of the dead just ahead of you -right in front of what you assumed was the opening gate.

"And it's a..."

"Prison, yeah," Daryl finished, pulling out his bow and killing the other one without a flinch.

"Right," you responded, a bit astonished, "-have you guys cleared the place?"

"Almost," Maggie answered, as the three of you stood directly in front of the gate. There was a watchtower to your left, and you could see the familiar glint of a scope shining down from the top.

"Glenn!" Daryl shouted, you watched as the dead stirred toward the noise, "-Let us in!"

There was a moment of hesitation, a breath of air catching in your lungs as the corpses made their way to you -slowly but surely. You knew a few weren't a threat, not with a group the size you currently were in, but you still felt this buzz of fear under your skin. Normally, you would be gone by now, vanished into the dust -not wanting to waste durability on a fight that would only bring more opponents.

Without warning, the door swung open and you assumed they had silenced the mechanism because no sound other than the screech of metal moving across the concrete filled your ears.

Which was not pleasant. At all.

The crowd there wasn't particularly large, but still seemed odd. Maybe you had been alone for too long.

A man quickly approached the group with a warm smile, rushing up to Maggie and scooping her into a hug. This figure hardly even noticed you or Daryl, now that you thought about it, but you doubted you would have either.

Daryl spoke, with a taste of disgust (you couldn't tell if it was playful or not) "That's Glenn, Maggie's boyfriend, you'll get used to it."

You nodded, pointing to a few stragglers around what looked like crops, "Okay, and... who are they?"

Without answering you, Daryl called out, "Rick out here?"

The older man who was tending to the crops looked up, eyeing you for a second, before answering, "I think he's inside, clearing out block F."

Maggie responded, "Daddy, can you see if you can get him out here?"

You blinked, absorbing the new information, Maggie's dad, right. The old man sighed, standing and brushing off his hands on his knees.

"I'll try."

Daryl nodded, not leaving your side, and it would've been comforting had you not known it was because you weren't fully trusted yet. Maggie guided you to a table, assumedly brought out from the cafeteria, and sat you down with a calm gesture to a chair. Glenn followed close behind, and Daryl merely observed.

You doubted he'd even blink while you waited for the mysterious Rick. He seemed the type to take his duty seriously.

"I'm Glenn," he held out his hand across the table, sitting just beside Maggie with curious but cautious eyes. It seemed he trusted Maggie's hesitant judgment of you.

"Y/N," you replied, accepting his hand, "-this is a lot, huh?"

"Oh yeah," Glenn continued, looking around the courtyard, "-finding the prison has been life-changing for us."

"I imagine," you laughed, a little in disbelief at the mere size, and looking over the two's shoulders to see the dead staring in through the fence. There weren't that many at all, but it still trickled in some of your solo senses.

Which were mostly bashing their head in before they get too close.

Maggie caught your eye, inquisitive almost like you were in an interview, "How familiar are you with the walkers?"

"You mean the dead?" you clarified, fingers trailing along the blood in the creases of your palms, "More familiar than I ever wanted to be, that's for sure."

Glenn opened his mouth to say something, but something bumped into your ankle and you were immediately on your feet. Prepared for the worst.

Instead of what you expected, there was a ball... An old deflated basketball probably from the court somewhere around here, you stared at it a bit incredulously. Like you'd almost forgotten it was a thing. You picked it up, brushing your finger along the bumpy texture.

"Sorry," a voice spoke. Squeaky and... familiar.

Your eyes snapped up and were met with those eyes 'You have to save him, please.' Breath caught in your lungs, your mouth moved but nothing came out. He was a little older now, with hair a touch longer and a sheriff's hat on the top of his head. But that was-

Daryl grunted, "Play somewhere else-"

"Carl?" you interrupted, tilting your head and dropping the ball to the floor; what were the chances?

Maggie stuttered out, a tone of protectiveness in her voice you'd have yet to experience, "You know him? Carl, do you know them?"

He paused, tilting his head in the same way you had just seconds before like he was trying to get a good look at you, "I..."

He looked into your eyes, eyeing your scrubs for a second -probably the same he'd seen you in so long ago. And the blue eyes that were so achingly familiar seemed to light up in recognition, he questioned, "Nurse Y/N?"

It was like a pin could drop, as the boy's gaze settled on you curiously, and every adult in the vicinity watched you like you were the most dangerous criminal in the world. A tension settling within the air that gave you uncomfortable goosebumps, and desperately made you want out of the spotlight.

Slowly, a grin slid across his features, his tiny finger pointing at you, elated, "You saved my Dad!" And before you could even react, the little boy had scurried up to you and wrapped his arms tightly around your middle - almost knocking off his hat at the force.

You blinked, a little stunned at the current predicament, but shook yourself awake. Completing the hug, you exhaled a sort of relief you hadn't known you needed. Seeing this little boy surviving such a terrible world gave you a spark of something. Like you'd been waiting to hear this.

"I promised I would, didn't I?" you hummed with a very soft smile.

Just as he let go, you crouched down and fixed his hat on his head, suddenly much more comfortable in a known presence, "Cool hat, kiddo."

He grinned even wider, but before he could even say another word, another voice echoed through the courtyard. Tone hardened and deep, this one could not be missed.

"Carl?" a breathy southern drawl -that you knew- interrupted, and your stomach flipped.

The tone was accusatory, dangerous even, so you stood quickly. A distance now established, you looked up into the figure. That couldn't be-

The blue eyes had burned into your head, so clear, so decisive.

"Rick Grimes?"