#you were in his mind every time he had the instinct to defend himself.

[mutatiio]

Who will mourn for you?

solitude. most of his life was spent alone on mustafar, no company except for a droid that was designed to both hurt and mend him. a droid that, eventually, expressed regret for doing so - a droid that lied.

sometimes sidious would return, but those sessions did nothing to relieve the overwhelming feeling of loneliness. if anything, seeing him made it worse.

kilindi had been close. someone he considered a friend. who had… for a time, also considered him a friend. the loneliness still lingered with her, maul knew what he would eventually return to. he killed her. done so without question along with everyone else within orsis academy. he didn't allow his thoughts to shift to her very often. but perhaps…

savage was the closest. his saviour, his apprentice, his brother. after years in darkness, years completely lost, savage came for him. he didn't strike at him most vulnerable moments. had protected him and brought him to someone who could heal his broken mind. stood by his side. that hadn't lasted either. but savage would have - the same way maul had mourned for him.

savage had mentioned a mother and a brother. kycina and feral. both dead. he wouldn't linger, wouldn't wonder if they would have.

only two people in the galaxy truly knew him when he 'died'. his master and the jedi who slay him, obi-wan kenobi. a victory for one and an inconvenience for the other. his death had been celebrated, his killer rewarded.

this sort of question needed no answer. most of his life has been spent alone, why should his death be any different??

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 12) [note: trigger warning for a pretty rough spanking scene with a belt and minimal aftercare. if you need to, you can skip to the midway point (there's a line between the first half and second).]

first chapter >> last chapter

-

He keeps your hands tied behind your back on the ride home.

All that does is confirm the fact that he must know. Graves must have tracked him down or perhaps he was approached by someone who did consider your sudden arrival in town suspicious. Why else would the sheriff chase you all the way into the mountains on horseback and then take you back with him? He would’ve within his rights to leave your thieving self to wander alone in the woods and succumb to the elements.

John doesn’t say a word the first hour of the ride back. You can feel the anger emanating from him though. He almost shakes with it. His anger somehow upsets you more than whatever is left to come. 

“Anytime you wanna start talkin’, I’m all ears,” John finally says, breaking the silence. 

You keep your lips pressed together, stubbornly silent. There’s no use giving yourself away before you’ve learned how much he knows. You haven’t built this life of yours with loose lips. 

“I don’t know what in the Sam Hill has gotten into you,” he continues, and his voice is cobblestone tread rough in the night. “Running off all by yourself. There ain’t nothing out in these parts except outlaws and highwaymen. There are men out here that’d love to get their hands on a woman like you—not even a knife to defend yourself with. You haven’t even got a scrap of food on you, never mind water. You’d’ve been dead in a week if the men out here hadn’t picked you off themselves.”

His words make your stomach ache. You know that there are worse things out there. A thousand gruesome ways to die. You’re less of a lady than John might think—you’ve heard stories. You’ve brushed close to that reality yourself. You wonder how he’d take it if you were to tell him about what had happened back east. 

Maybe running away this time hadn’t been your smartest idea, but it had been your only. You can’t fault yourself for the instinct to survive. 

“I know,” you mumble, dropping your chin to your chest. 

“You gonna explain to me why you stole my horse and ran off in the first place?” he asks. 

It’s the strangest interrogation you’ve ever heard of—sitting on the same horse with your back to the man questioning you and your hands tied together at the wrists. You wonder if you leaned back whether you’d feel his heart beating furiously in his chest. 

You remain mulishly silent though, reticent to answer the question.

“Maybe I’ve been spoiling you,” he continues, trying to rationalize it to himself. “After the fuss you put up those first few days, I thought a bit of structure and discipline would do you well, and it did. Giving you a bit of slack was my mistake.”

You frown at that. Those don’t sound like the words of a man with any knowledge of the circumstances leading to you running off. He might not even have come across Graves at all in the hours since the man made his appearance in the general store. Otherwise, you can’t imagine how he wouldn’t make the connection. 

Still, you can’t make yourself come right out and say it, even though every iota of your being aches to let the truth out. Call it nerves overpowering the need to be truthful and good. You vacillate between honesty and self-preservation, but each avenue feels like being dropped into a nest of vipers. 

But he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. If he knew, he wouldn’t question you like this. It’s a boon you can’t give up, not yet. Not when the thought of his inevitable righteous fury fills you with dread and self-loathing. 

“I don’t have to explain myself,” you spit out suddenly, and it’s not you saying those words but something ugly and sad in you. “You’re not my owner.”

“I damn sure am your husband though,” John growls, winding his free hand around your hair to tug you back into his chest. “And I know these parts far better than you, little miss. Beyond running off on me for no good reason when I thought we put your reticence behind us, you went and put yourself in danger the likes of which you couldn’t even fathom.”

“I’m not an idiot,” you snap. “I know what men are like.”

“You’re telling me you pulled that stunt knowing what kinda danger is out there in the woods?”

“I wasn’t thinking!”

“I know you weren’t,” John grunts. “That’s the issue.” 

The rest of the ride home is uncomfortably quiet. John keeps one hand clamped on your waist while the other holds the reins of both horses, the two walking alongside each other back down the trail towards the house. The ride home is a lot longer than the ride out into the woods since John refuses to let either of them go faster than a slow trot while your hands are tied behind your back. 

He snorts in derision at your suggestion to undo your binds. “That eager for your punishment?” 

That gets you to zip your lips. 

When you get drowsy, John tips your head back and makes you sip from his waterskin. His hand fits carefully around your throat to hold your head in place, his fingers curling around to just graze the nape of your neck. Your throat pulses under his palm when you swallow. It’s far too intimate for how restless you feel, damn near shaking out of your skin, but it briefly shushes the voice in your head until he pulls his hand away. 

A shadow under the doorway of the house startles you at first before it takes a step into the faint light of the setting sun and you recognize the bristly blond of Simon’s shorn head and the red bandana shrouding the bottom half of his face. The tension ebbs back into you when you realize with creeping humiliation that the black horse you rode home on must belong to him. 

He watches the two of you approach with predictable disinterest, his eyes betraying nothing. The shame is excruciating. 

John brings the horse to a halt some feet from Simon, not bothering to greet him. You wonder if it’s the anger choking him or if this is just routine, men trading favors in silence lest a word in gratitude break the spell. After dismounting himself, John helps you down, all but picking you up and lifting you off the horse. 

Simon doesn’t say a word to either of you when he takes the reins from John’s hands, giving him only a curt nod and you a cursory glance before leading his horse away to mount. He doesn’t spare you a backwards glance before taking off back towards town. You watch him over your shoulder while John guides you up the porch steps and into the house, until the shape of him disappears into the horizon. Then the door shuts behind you. 

Alone now, your attention turns back to John. He stares down at you consideringly, a hand planted on the door he just shut until he lets it fall to his side. You can see the gears turning in his mind, weighing something out. 

It wouldn’t be right to call it anticipation; it’s not quite dread either. 

“I don’t make idle threats, you know,” he says, apropos of nothing. 

His words make you frown until you glance down to find him undoing his belt. Your blood turns to ice. He tugs the thick strap until it comes sliding out of each loop around his waist. The buckle rests heavy in his palm, thick fingers curling around it, and when he bends the belt in two, you already know that he intends to follow through with his threat from earlier, the one you said you’d gut him for.

“I’ll scream,” you warn, heart in your throat. It almost chokes you. “I mean it. I’ll scream like the devil.”

“Don’t go makin’ no empty threats now, darlin’,” he says in a low voice, almost taunting. You can hear the hard edge in his voice though. It’s not something he craves, but he’ll take it. 

“You touch me with that thing and I’ll never forgive you.” 

John’s eyes go hard. “I’ll just have to take that chance.” 

And then he’s on you.

He hooks an arm around your waist when you try to rush past him back out the door and it forces the breath out of you. 

You struggle as best you can with your hands tied behind your back, trying to wriggle out of his hold even as he heaves you up into his arms and climbs the staircase towards the bedroom. The steps creak under the added weight of you in his arms. The screams come tearing from your throat, ripping your vocal cords and nearly sending you into a coughing fit. 

“Let—me—go—” you shriek, kicking out wildly, hoping to catch something that’ll make him lose his balance. 

“All that squirmin’ ain’t making me feel more merciful,” he growls. 

John kicks the bedroom door open with his foot when he reaches the top of the staircase. The room looks ominous without the oil lamp lit, the shadows growing in the corners swallowing up the end table. The bed is just as you made it this morning, the sheets pressed tight and neat, and you only get a second to take that in before he marches towards the bed and throws you down onto it.  

You hit the bed hard, bouncing slightly. He sits down heavily enough to jostle you and when you try to roll away on instinct, a hand catches you by the bicep and pulls you back. He hauls you across the bulk of his thighs this time, far different from your first meeting back in the sheriff’s office all those weeks ago. Your feet don’t even touch the floor this time around, dangling in the air and flailing for purchase. 

“You brute—you bastard!” you screech.

“I’m not gonna be as charitable this time,” John says, yanking your dress up and your drawers down until your bare bottom is exposed. You gasp at the cold air, murmuring something like please, please, please under your breath. “Even if I knew why it was you decided to run off, that doesn’t excuse the fact that you did. You coulda been hurt or worse out there, darlin’, and I’d never have forgiven myself. I’m gonna make sure the lesson sinks in this time.”

He folds the leather belt to hold it in one hand, leaving the other to pin you down over his thighs, making sure you don’t wriggle out. The leather is cool at first when he drags it over your butt. It makes your breathing pick up. It’s so gentle that you can almost trick yourself into thinking that it’s all he intends to do. 

The first lash comes so quick that you barely register it. The second knocks the wind out of you, and then the pain sets in. 

It stings something fierce. Where his palm hurt that first time he bent you over his desk and spanked you, the belt burns. It goes deep and it lingers when he pulls the leather away from your stinging bottom. 

“Hurts like the dickens, don’t it?” John asks, not bothering to wait for confirmation before bringing the belt down again. “You’re lucky it’s only ten this time.”

You howl into the bedsheets, eyes tearing up and spilling down your cheeks. When you try to cover your ass with your bound hands, John grabs them and pins them to the small of your back. 

“What’ll you never do again?” he growls. 

“I—I’ll—”

“Say it, darlin’: I’ll never run off on my own again.”

“I’ll—n-never gonna—oh, it hurts, John—please—”

At some point, you must say the words he’s looking for. You lose count of how many times his belt has struck across your ass. Like thunder coming after lightning, you feel it and then you hear it. The sharp snap comes as a second wave of agony in and of itself. 

Your throat is stripped raw by the time it’s over. The aftermath finds you with a puddle of drool under your cheek, hair matted to your face. Sweat slicks the backs of your thighs and down your spine. Even the gentlest brush of John’s hand over your backside, the belt deposited off the side of the bed, makes you flinch, the skin there tender to the touch. You’ll surely feel it deep in your bones come sunrise. 

Too exhausted for anger, all you can do is lie there. It sits heavy in your stomach though, a pit at the center of you. You want to say, who gave you the right? The answer burns a ring around your finger though. You want to say, you don’t understand, it had nothing to do with you. It has everything to do with him and you. 

You can tell he wants to say something. It gets choked in his throat, but you can hear it in the way his breath draws in, like he’s trying to coax it from his chest but it simply won’t come out. 

“Stay right there,” John rumbles instead, shifting you onto the bed to let you lie on your belly. 

You moan in pain when he moves you, sniffling into your arms. The crook of your elbow is sticky with your tears and snot. 

The bed dips under his weight when he comes back. You flinch violently when he draws the skirt of your dress up again and smooths his hand over the tender cheeks of your backside, spreading a cool salve over your skin. The first touch of his hand makes you hiss, tears beading in the corners of your eyes again, but then the cool sinks in, alleviating the ache. 

He does that for another few minutes in silence. Gentle, tentative touches, only stopping when the salve has been spread evenly over your bottom. He’s quiet when he shifts you up the bed until your feet are no longer dangling off the end. You’re distantly aware of him taking off your shoes and tucking you into bed, but the events of the day have finally gotten the better of you. It would be easier to push a boulder up a hill than crack even one of your eyelids open.

Time passes slowly; sluggishly. Your thoughts can’t quite catch up with it, either too quick or too slow. You’re stuck in thoughts of the desert, caught in a sandstorm that manifests too suddenly for you to take cover. All you can do is close your eyes and wait it out. 

Morning comes like a brutal summoning into the waking world. 

It hurts, but you expected that. Before your eyes even open, you’re aware of a throbbing pain coming from your backside. You wince when you shift to your side, squeezing your eyes tight. You contemplate rolling over and taking your chances with John’s temper. The thought isn’t as appealing in the light of day though. 

It takes some time to get out of bed and when you do, you have to step tentatively from floorboard to floorboard, the ache making it decidedly uncomfortable. You can’t imagine what sitting down will be like. Riding a horse is just out of the question. 

From the bedroom window, you see John standing in front of the house with Simon, back again not even twelve hours later. With the window closed, you can’t hear their conversation, nor can you read their lips. Their exchange doesn’t last long though. After another minute or so, and a nod goodbye, Simon walks back over to his horse standing nearby and lifts himself up and over onto the saddle, taking off towards town. 

When John turns back towards the house, you see him glance up towards the bedroom window where you stand. The circles beneath his eyes are dark, pronounced. On another day, you might’ve ducked out of sight or jumped away from the window, but now you hold his gaze. 

He breaks your stare first this time, heading back inside. It’s less satisfying than you thought it’d be. 

You spend the day resting in bed and avoiding John for the most part. He spends the majority of the day out of the house. You hear him downstairs in the kitchen around midday, fixing himself up something to eat, and you listen attentively to the scrape of the chair across the floor and the pan on the stovetop. Like the day he brought you home, he brings you up a tray only to leave it at the door, rapping the door with his knuckles to let you know before heading back downstairs. 

When he comes up for bed, you’re already lying down with your back to the door, the oil lamp left unlit. John doesn’t say anything to you as he changes into his nightwear. He smells fresh when he climbs into bed, like he bathed in the creek out in the woods. You breathe in deeply, trying to keep your breath quiet enough to not disturb the silence. The pillow under your head is saturated with his scent. You turn your nose into it when he lies down on his back instead of curling into you like he usually does. 

Your chest aches at that simple denial. There’s a wall between the two of you and you know where it came from. Any trust that you’d built lies in ruins now. 

Perhaps that’s not quite right though. It’s a romantic notion that you’ve been building something together all this time, but it doesn’t feel right now that you have the wherewithal to look back and reflect. All this time, whenever you’ve touched, you’ve held him steadfast and at an arm's length away, stopping two degrees short of intimacy. 

Deliberately effusive; and worse, you’ve called it affection. 

The tenderness in your heart is the worst of it. There’s a bruise there, and it’s been there awhile. It’s only grown with your recent troubles. You tell yourself every year that you’ll air it out come spring, but then the winter comes and it freezes over again.  

The pillow under your chest grows damp with your tears. 

Your dress the next morning is cornflower blue. The wheatfields are golden stalks swaying in the breeze. It’s a pleasanter day than how you feel. 

The ride into town is as painful as you thought it might be. You wince with every stride, your bottom still tender as a rose. John’s arm tightens around your waist when you squirm, like you might slide off the saddle and try to flee again, and you bite your lip to hold back the urge to snap. 

The little bit of independence you’d grown to enjoy is snatched away from you. You expected that as well, but that loss of privilege comes with a biting ache. You fight the urge to gnash your teeth and bark at him that you’re not a child when he grips you under the arm and leads you down the road. It wouldn’t do you any good. 

When John leaves you off at the general store, you’re surprised to find Kate back, hale and hearty. She looks up when the chime over the door jingles and raises her eyebrows in greeting. The sound makes you flinch, memories coming back unbidden. 

You look over your shoulder to say something to John before he leaves, but the door is already closing behind him by the time you turn around. Your lips are pursed on a word that dissolves in your mouth. It has a bitter aftertaste. 

“Thought you wouldn’t be back for a few more days,” you say instead, turning back to Kate. There’s already a chair pulled up for you by the wall and you make yourself comfortable there, grimacing at first when your sore backside touches the wood before settling in. 

She shrugs. “Plans changed. Gaz and I made it back late last night.”

You frown. “Gaz?”

“Kyle Garrick. Sorry—slip of the tongue. You’ve met him already. He used to go by Gaz way back when.”

“Way back when?”

“Not my story to tell. You should ask one of them, if you’re curious.”

You are, but not enough to ask. “Maybe.”

The two of you lapse into silence after that exchange. Before leaving the house, you remembered to bring with you some needles and wool to pass the time. They’re not as familiar in your hands as you’d like them to be, but you suppose, barring the possibility of Graves or another bounty hunter showing up in town to cart you off, you’ll have time to learn. 

The thought leaves you anxious. It feels distinctly more possible now. 

“You met Miles while I was away?” Kate asks, out of the blue.

Your head comes up at her question. “Miles?”

“He was minding the store for me while I was away. Said you came in the other day.”

You swallow reflexively. “Oh. Yes, I suppose I did meet him. I didn’t stay long, since you were gone and all.”

She hums and looks back down at the book in front of her. You feel nervous all of a sudden. 

“He said you were very helpful,” she says abruptly, breaking the silence. You flinch. “Told me some gentleman came by with a warrant for a murder back east and you were kind enough to take it to your husband for him so he could keep minding the shop.”

Your throat constricts. She pins you under her gaze, unblinking eyes staring into yours but not looking for anything. Wispy blonde bangs brush along her forehead when she tilts her head ever so slightly. 

You nod instead of answering. 

“Did you give it to him?” she asks.

“I didn’t have a chance to. The day got away from me,” you say tersely. 

“I heard something about that. Kyle said John had to borrow Simon’s horse the other day. Said something about him taking off in a hurry.”

Again, you don’t answer. It feels like without knowing it, you’ve crossed over a threshold. 

“Do you still have it?” Kate prompts when again you don’t respond. You don’t tell her that you don’t because in all the fuss the other day, it must have slipped out of your pocket and drifted off into the wind. “The warrant?”

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head. 

“That’s alright. I have a good enough idea about what it might’ve said.” 

Sweat beads on your upper lip. She all but says it outloud. You’re as still as a ferrotype under her gaze, imprinted in place, unable to move so much as a muscle or force a word past your stiff lips. 

“You’re under no obligation to tell me or anyone,” Kate says, and her voice is suddenly gentle, softer than you’ve ever heard it before. “I’m sure you had your reasons. I won’t be telling John, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Oh. Thank you,” you breathe, throat so tight that the words almost don’t come out. 

It’s the closest you’ve come to admitting to it, tangentially or not, and even now it’s spoken only out of the corner of your mouth. You don’t think you have it in you to recite the events sequentially. Even in the privacy of your memory, it comes piecemeal, in fragmented images that flicker across your mind because maybe to remember it whole would be too much. 

You don’t say much more after that, and neither does Kate. That wasn’t the point of bringing it up, you think. You'd know if it was. 

When John comes to fetch you at the end of the day, you leave without saying goodbye to Kate. Only a stiff smile before heading out on your way. If she returns your smile, you don’t notice it. To John, you simply duck your head and follow him out the door, letting him help you up onto the horse without a word. 

If it bothers him that you refuse to speak to him, he doesn’t show it. 

It’s so many steps back that you might as well be back where you started. Maybe even further back, a voyage gone so wrong that when you look over your shoulder, you can’t make heads or tails of where you came from. The trees from the other side of the trail never look quite the same. 

If you could open your mouth and say it, you would. If you knew he’d listen. But you don’t think John is that kind of man. Against the gold of the setting sun, he cuts a figure from times of yore. He speaks plain while you tend to speak in fricatives and bilabial stops, incapable of enunciating the words. 

You feel like a wound on the world. Getting it wrong again and again. 

It’s an old pain, one that started back when you were too small to hold it all. Now, you’ve grown large enough to hold it, though it holds you back in turn. You remember your parents studiously ignoring first creation like some noxious cloud billowing from the chimney. There’d been too many children for them to care about the runt. Shipped off to your aunt’s and uncle’s just for the cycle to repeat itself. 

It’s an old grief, this one, friendly because it nudges at your hips when you brush by, striking in the blue-green. And when it burns, it burns.

“John, I—” you say when he helps you down back at the house. 

He stares down at you, waiting you out. Your mouth goes dry, the truth beyond your grasp again. Your heart aches when his brows furrow and the lines around his eyes crease again, frustration welling beneath the surface. 

You understand. It sits under your skin too. 

"Go inside," he says instead when you don't go on. "I'll bring in the horses and start supper."

Your God sits at the edge of the bed, wholly lacking praise. It’s not His fault that it’s been awhile. These days, you can hardly muster up the energy to say hello. You gargle saltwater before you bathe and scrub your skin free of blood, waiting for the next morning to come.

And you think, lying on your side while John sleeps on the other side of the bed, wouldn’t it be lovely to get it right now, rather than in retrospect?

[miguel-owhora]

dragon!price who's an alpha—a lonely alpha. he's been alone for quite some time now, his nest barren and empty, no mate to sing dragonic songs back to him miles away, no mate to rekindle the embers in his heart.

his hoard—sorry, the 141—help him fill these empty spots. soap's rambunctious attitude and gaz's encouragement and ghost's dryly amused comments fill in the lonely parts, bringing him down from the soaring heavens and back to the ground, where price hears the thumping of the earth's core if he falls back into his dragonic instincts deep enough.

dragons are rare to come nowadays. most spend their lives in secrecy, in some rural land most would struggle to pronounce the names of, spent hiding in either solitude or with their mates—and in certain cases, families.

so imagine price's surprise when laswell drops in a new member into his little hoard. she says it's temporary, but there's a glimmer on her eyes when she says it, one that makes sense when price sees you—another dragon.

an omega, price's alpha brain tells him, awakening with glee at another dragon hybrid, at someone who could complete him. a potential mate.

price's alpha instincts are purring when he introduces himself, and he must look like a fool, when he hears his boys sniggering in the background. something lights up something in his chest, instincts roaring to life, when you smile at him and shake his hand. your hand makes his burn, hotter than anything else, hotter than the fire he hatched out of.

it comes to no surprise to him when you're even more reserved than ghost. dragon hybrids are already secretive as they are; omega dragon hybrids are worse. but eventually, price worms his way past the walls you've put up and the fun part comes: courtship.

for every type of naturalborn hybrid that roams earth, they each have their own courtship rituals. for many of them, alphas must prove their worth to their potential mate. werewolf hybrids will bring back game, will defend territory; harpies—depending on which region they live in—will also prove their worth by bringing back prey and helping to build nests.

price can recall the number of times soap had dragged in the corpse of a deer, still warm and fresh to ghost, or how gaz had proudly weaved a wall of brambles and sticks (nevermind the nails and sharp blades) outside ghost's private room. it amused him to no end, seeing them fall prey to their instincts.

but price isn't laughing when he succumbed to his own instincts.

your introduction to the team and you letting price get close to you already had his dragonic alpha mind reeling with excitement. even moreso when you approved of him courting you.

now, dragon hybrids were something else. oftentimes, they were more older than the other hybrids, more ancient and forged deep within the earth's core, connected to mother earth like no other. as such, their courting rituals were more.. barbaric, in other words.

price feels alive when he has to fight you, when your claws dig at his skin and his teeth at your shoulder, near your bite mark. when you roar with fury and punch him away, when your omegan sex has his alphan sex pumping with life. when you both tear up the training room, your set of wings flapping and glittering underneath the artificial lights, when price finally pins you down, when you give a purr of approval.

price finds the prettiest items and gifts them to you, when he dances between feeling overjoyed when you accept it, feeling like he's been stabbed when you reject it. gift by gift price feels pride bloom within him when he sees your little gift hoard grow. when he gifts you a pack of his cherished cigars and gives you his signature hat, he has to go outside and do circles in the heavens when you accept it with gentle hands and carefully guard it.

all of his hard work pays off when you tug him by his scruff and take him to your bedroom, where your bed is carefully nestled with different blankets, with clothes that reek of him. he feels like the luckiest man when you strip yourself of your clothes and lay on the bed, letting your wings—gorgeous things they are—spread out underneath you, take up the bed. your cock, hard and leaking and big, lays on your belly, cum pooling like ichor.

you spread your legs, the scent of an omega ready to mate and take what's theirs, registering in price's brain. it's all he needs before he's racing to tear his clothes off and climbs on you.

he's purring loudly when he touches you all over, dipping his head to kiss at your body, thankful that you gave him the chance to prove his worth. your scent is thick and heavy, musk strong. it makes the embers in his chest flicker and grow to a small fire.

the fire grows when he slips his cock inside, shuddering at how tight and hot you are, burning him. you don't help him, content to lay back and let him figure it out, but price is more than happy to do it by himself. anything for you.

he gets you to cum several times, spilling all over your belly, makes you whimper his name, dig your claws into his back and pull him close to kiss him hard.

price is only ever given permission to cum when you decide he's worthy. your claws dig into your chest and rip it open, an ancient heart beating, cracks of old magic glowing an unusual color. price knows what's to come, but he still grits his teeth when you also rip his chest open.

his knot is forming, catching on your hole, when the two hearts—ancient and waiting for each other after so many years—intertwine together. price pushes his knot in and finally cums, fuck, he shudders and moans, in pleasure and in pain when he feels your anal barbs dig around his cock and knot, making sure he's secured for a while.

the world seems brighter when he collapses on you, open chests bleeding together. he gives little nudges of his hips, cockhead kissing your womb, brushing against your prostate. he feels you sigh contently, and price's heart is a wildfire.

[sstrwbrryccke]

— sweetly spoiled | sub choi soobin

tags: rich reader x sugarbaby+broke soobin, financial dominance, gn reader, this was super fluffy until the end, porn with feelings, anal sex (can be interpreted as pegging), overstimulation, window sex, cum eating, hair pulling

not proofread 😭

you’re a hardworking rags to riches, new money type of billionaire. it started from taking over a failing business to investing into real estate and now a multibillion franchise. through sheer hardwork, will and a keen eye, you were one of the youngest billionaires in the world. you were rich beyond belief, rich but lonely. suffering from the many losses of your family members wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t as if you could make genuine friends in this industry.

meeting him was a total coincidence, you were picking up some late night snacks at a convenience store- just because you’re rich now doesn’t mean you forgot your roots, the convenience store was quick and cheap after all. there you spotted him, tall yet nervous at the cashier, fumbling in his pocket for money to pay for the ramen cup. money which he seems to not have, he sighed, about to return the item before you stepped in to buy it for him. financial dominance at its best, really. when you glanced his direction, met with his shocked face, the first thing you noticed was how seriously cute he was, a man that was 100% your type. wide bunny eyes with pretty pink lips, when he beamed a smile at your kind action, you felt your heart flutter. but that was all it was, a random encounter with a very pretty stranger. he thanked you and you waved him off, the two of you parting ways.

☆★☆

and to be honest, he didn’t come up on your mind that much after, you were a busy business person after all. hours of paperwork and meetings filled your mind as the weeks passed. but one day, your assistant called in sick, and you felt maybe that was your sign to take a rest for the day too. but left alone in your penthouse apartment seemed to only perpetuate how spacious your living space really was. even your personal butler had taken a vacation. so huge, alone, isolated and quiet. when the ticking of the clock was too much, you decided to take a walk to escape the mundanity of your solitude. but he caught your eye again, wearing plain clothing and crouched next to the door of a cafe? you approached him, curious. the sudden shade made him glance up, his eyes instantly lighting up in recognition.

“oh! it’s you!”

he seemed happy to see you, and you instinctively smiled along too.

“what are you doing here?”

he seemed sheepish at the question, craning his head and shaking his hair with an exasperated gasp. it was cute, he was cute.

“i just got fired from the cafe.”

it was such an unexpected and ridiculous answer, you heard yourself snicker. he was embarrassed, lips pouted.

“how?”

“i let a few stray cats and dogs in.”

you snicker again, he instantly shot up to defend himself. reminding you how tall he was.

“it was raining!”

the two of you end up talking, and you invite him to another cafe to chat. of course you paid for everything, you insisted. he was shy at first, very thankful and grateful for your hospitality. what an obedient and well-mannered boy. eventually, through more talking and prodding, he opened up. he was called soobin, and soobin’s adorable looks matched his personality. he was endearing in every way that word could mean. he ranted about his university and disastrous job history, and he really really had a penchant for being broke. seriously, how was it possible for someone to be this financially unfortunate? every time he tried to earn a living, something prevented him, like god’s divine will if you were religious. first job at a restaurant? broke 20 plates in one go. second job as a waiter? the restaurant got struck by lighting and went bankrupt. the list goes on.

when he finished, he was sheepish again at your shocked face, sipping on his mocha awkwardly. you pitied him, honestly, you could tell he was innocent to the qualms of the world, and you really wanted to take him under your wing…

except, what was stopping you?

“uh… sorry for ranting. i normally don’t talk this much.”

he meekly commented, suddenly all shy, back to a very introverted mumble. you just shook your head at him.

“i’m listening to you willingly, aren’t i?”

your tone was stern, he instinctively straightened his back as if preparing for you to reveal something big to him, maybe you were going to shoo him away? you took a moment to stare at him, observing his features. looking at him closer just made him so much more attractive, and you could listen to him talk for hours, even if he didn’t talk. just his presence had soothed you of all your troubles.

“soobin, do you want to be my sugar baby?”

he blinked at you. and you thought you would have to explain the concept to him until his face darkened a deep red, fingers fiddling together. maybe he wasn’t as innocent as you thought he was, maybe you should’ve expected it, but it only made your desire arouse more. there was a moment of silence as you let him contemplate the choice.

“so?”

you break his train of thoughts, and he jolts up, shoulders tightly bunched together as his wide bunny-like eyes lowers. he whispers something you couldn’t hear.

“……that.”

“use your voice, soobin.”

“does that mean we do that?”

slightly taken aback by his question, so that was what he was thinking. he was secretly a pervert, wasn’t he? you grin at him, leaning forward.

“someone’s getting his hopes up, isn’t he?”

to your surprise again, he nods obediently, and your grin widened. being alone wasn’t so bad after all.

☆★☆

it took him awhile to get used to the sugar-baby lifestyle. and for some reason, he was more endearing after becoming your sugar-baby. despite how broke he was, he really wasn’t the type to thirst for money. even being awful at receiving gifts sometimes. he had already been so thankful at you covering his living costs, so anything extra made him jittery and blush, profusely thanking you. not to mention, sex with soobin was beyond wonderful, he was just as obedient in bed as he was in his daily life. you found out later he gave his virginity to you, and that honestly made you turned on and ready for 10 more rounds.

you learned more about soobin’s hobbies too, and one thing you note is how much of a nerd he was. when you give him a very hefty and large allowance, he mostly uses the money for games, mangas and anime subscriptions. even though you insist many times that you give him enough money to buy all of that and way more. he seems to be more than satisfied with just those items.

gradually though, he really takes over your life with his presence, and it was only more apparent when he moved into your penthouse apartment. (even though you offered him a separate apartment, you learned he was a rather clingy person) you found yourself buying more shelves to display his manga collections, catching up to his favourite animes when you have time so you guys can watch together on movie night. he’s an introvert to the core, so he often prefers to stay in the penthouse rather than go out. not that you mind, it was nice to spend the night cuddling with him after long day at work, plus you dote on him extensively, if soobin wanted to stay in, you were going to let him stay in.

and you didn’t know life could get this happy until you entered to the smell of freshly baked goods, a smiling soobin poking his head out from the kitchen. god, who needs michelin star chefs when you have a cute bunny boy? and damn was it was the best cinnamon roll you’ve ever had in your entire existence.

eventually, your work finds out about soobin too, it first manifested in drifting rumors of a mysterious partner you had. then it became plain obvious when you straight-up brought soobin to your office one day. it was a bizzare sight, a man dressed in a hoodie sitting in a room full of men and women in suits. he mentioned he was curious about your work, and next thing he knew, he was in your limousine driving to the high skyrise building.

another time you brought him to those socialite parties, which was really just a fancy name for ‘rich people getting drunk asf’. he was so adorable, muttering to you about how nervous he was as you adjust his bowtie. he wore a grey asymmetrical suit jacket, you had it tailor made for him. you would hold him by the waist and kiss his worries away, reassuring him. and just as you thought, it went great. though soobin wasn’t talkative at all, just smiling beside you as you’re approached by another acquaintance. you two had fun though, you would snake your hand around his waist and whisper to him while gesturing to another rich nepo baby.

“and that one over there, that blonde hair? oh yeah, definitely a wig.”

“stop- that’s mean!”

but he was giggling with you, his eyes creasing into sweet crescent moons. the night passed smoothly, and the two of you retreat back to the penthouse apartment again. there you sat on the bed, freshly showered. soobin comes out from his shower as well, wrapped in a towel. he seemed embarrassed again, at how scantily dressed he was.

“stop hiding yourself, i’ve literally seen you naked soobin.”

“nope, who knows when you’re going to get horny and attack me.”

he shook his head teasingly, his wet hair tousling around. you raise an eyebrow, standing up to walk to him and he instantly starts laughing and apologising while backing away, knowing that once you take action you weren’t going to stop.

“hey i was joking!! i was jokin- AHHH!!”

you go for his hips where he was the most ticklish, and it didn’t take a lot of wrestling until he was under you, huffing and giggly. cheeks red, puffy eyes beautifully curved with his smile, his dimples in full show. touching your knee was something hard, as well, and you smirk at him.

“and i’m the horny one?”

with just the right amount of teasing and edging, you get him squirming and moaning, begging softly for you to touch him more. you haul him up, and he seems to wake up from his submissive daze when he realises you brought him right up to the massive windows of the penthouse. naked and exposed, leg spread embarrassingly far apart as you make him bend over- using the glass as support.

“w-what if people see.”

“let them.”

you whisper in his ear and he visibly shivers. you thumb at his lubed pink hole, dipping in and then dipping out, he becomes more and more desperate with each passing second. when it was clear you were going to keep playing with his rim, he softly whines, glancing behind him to look at you. bunny eyes wide and pleading.

“use your words soobin.”

“mmm… please.”

“continue.”

he gulps, nervous. he was so turned on he felt like he could come with any type of friction.

“spoil me please.”

oh, and you were going to spoil him alright. he was your pretty prince and you would genuinely buy him the earth if he wanted to. hurray to capitalism and this pretty boy. you kiss his nape as you insert a finger. he squirms and clenches his thighs, trying his hardest to hold it in because you hadn’t given him permission yet.

you insert another finger and begin to pump them in and out, purposefully hitting his prostate to push him over the edge. he comes without a warning and he sputters, his thighs trembling.

“s-sorry! sorry! i didnt mean to! im sorry!”

he begs profusely, legs still feeling the aftershocks of his orgasm. but you weren’t done with him just yet, he chokes down his words when you continue to finger his prostate, overstimulating him and making him squeal out in both pain and pleasure. he comes again, very close to the first one, and the white substance spurts onto the window.

“messy baby, you’re making so much trouble for the cleaners. bend down and clean that.”

he knew very well that you had cleaners who wouldn’t even blink an eye when wiping cum off the window. but he obeys as he always has. his weak legs was going to give up on him anyways, so he bent down kneeling on all fours, ass in the air as he awkwardly licked the salty cum off the window. doesn’t mean the work was over for you though, because you join him, aligning your length with his hole as you push into him. he moans loud at the sudden intrusion, arms giving up on him as he slips down on the floor, perking his ass up further.

“did i tell you to stop? keep going.”

he whines, trying to support himself but failing, so you give him a helping hand, your hand gripping the back of his hair and you pull his head back until he’s craning his neck. you swipe a finger at the remaining cum, bringing it to his mouth, feeding it to him, making him swallow.

the whole process was so arousing, it only took a few more thrusts until he was coming again. this time though, the overstimulation was too much and soon enough he was sobbing and crying. you chuckle, he was such a baby, but maybe it was your fault for spoiling him so much. you gently embrace him, thrusting into him softly until you orgasmed as well.

you pull out and coo at him. his body trembling and spasming. you use a wet towel to wipe down the both of you, until he refused you movement by hugging you tightly. it takes a moment to get back to bed, especially with an oversized koala clinging to you. but the two of you flop down, and you take the moment to caress his face. he was sleepy, but registered your soft touches with a satisfied smile.

“want to go shopping tomorrow?”

he hums, shuffling closer to you until his face was in the crook of your neck.

“mm i just want to stay in.”

you snicker. and you have never felt so much warmth in your heart.

[paymechildsupport]

Redeemed!Bully!Satoru Gojo x AMAB!Reader // "Gonna give you a Real Reason to Cry.."

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

-He was a huge fucking asshole to you and he knows it, -- now he'll do anything to make things right again, -- and he means anything.

(I will die on the "Gojo shows heavy signs of autism" hill and I will defend it with my life)

-!! CW: Themes of bullying, harassment, -- ANGST, --> to hurt + comfort --> to smut

-!! Slight dacryphilia ; mention of overstim ; semi-public --> pretty public sex ; body worship

-!! Reader is implied [AMAB] --> having male genetalia, but of course you may use your own creative freedom for it to fit your pref. better (ex. strap- on, dildo(?), etc).

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ * 。° 。 • ˚《

Satoru has always been the cocky type: instinctively putting himself on a pedestal above everyone 

His days at Jujutsu Tech were when the golden snowy haired blue eyed little brat excelled, his easy victories and impressive fights gassing his ego up to astronomical levels 

Of course, it gets quite lonely at the top; no one could understand Satoru, no one could understand why he was the way he was— why he was so discontent at the very top. He was so untouchable he was unable to properly keep in touch with his humanity— his humility— both figuratively and literally with that damned infinity of his 

Then he met you, Second Year of Jujutsu Tech, and the first time in his life where Satoru felt threatened.  It was as if you could see right into his soul,— you saw him, you understood him,— and you absolutely terrified him. You were the only person who could genuinely touch him, touch his heart— his mind, and empathize with the all powerful sorcerer. For the first time, Satoru felt vulnerable 

You were dangerous, powerful, the fact you could somehow be up to par with the mindset of such a divine being like him meant you were compitetion. A rival. You could take everything away from Satoru; his distance from society, the ‘strongest’ facade he put up,— his place as the “strongest” entirely. Without that, Satoru had nothing— if you somehow surpassed him, he’d have nothing, he’d be nothing. There was only one solution in Satoru’s mind: you needed to be stopped, he had to beat you, at any cost. 

How dare you be so cocky, so arrogant: asking him if he was ‘alright’ or if he needed someone to ‘talk to’. How dare you mock him like that. Shame on you, for telling him it was okay to show his emotions, to be openly vulnerable. He saw right through your guise, — he knew you only meant harm. He was not to be so easily fooled by your charms. You were a stuck up pain in the ass, trying to get him vulnerable all so you could swoop in and attack. You thought you were so strong, huh? You thought you were sooo much better than him? He oughtta remind you of your place, he ought to re-establish himself as the “Strongest”, show you that you weren’t all that hot shit you claimed to be. 

And he did just that: every little mistake,— every lil’ slip up,— every lil’ wrong step or wrong word and he’d be on you in an instant. He was unreasonably cruel, berating and belittling,— telling you how “worthless” you were or how “absolute shit of a sorcerer” you were. He tormented you for the next two years, reminding you of exactly where you belong,— gravel, beneath his feet. And like gravel, he’d stomp and tread on you, spit and swear at you,— treat you like the tiny, insignificant thing you were. Think you’re hot shit for sympathizing with him? Satoru would make you regret the day you ever got the gual to walk up to him and ask about his “feelings”

But you’d just smile; after all that,— all those insults and snide remarks, the cruel words and name- calling, you’d just sit there and take it. And you had the audacity to fucking smile at him, to pretend to be patient and ‘understanding’. It made Satoru sick to his stomach,— the higher ups and teachers wouldn’t do shit. They’d never do anything to somehow anger the all powerful Satoru Gojo— no one would ever help you. You were all alone… and fucking still… you just looked at him with that STUPID. FUCKING. KINDNESS that choked his heart every. Single. Time. In your eyes. 

He was going to fucking ruin you. By the time he was done, Satoru would make sure you’d be valued as less than the dog shit beneath his boot. He’d double down on his belittlements,— why wasn’t that working? He’d just insult you more,— tell you how damn horrifying you were how horrid you were to look at with the way you made his heart want to beat out of his chest and his face heat up, his entire body shaking, craving your attention like a drug,— what the actual SHIT was going ON?! Fine then, he’d just compare himself to you more: shame you for how you barely made it out alive scrapping with the dozen curses Satoru easily slaughtered with a flick of his fingers. You were a dead man, you hear him? A gorgeous fucking drop dead fleshblag of a— 

Wait… we’re those.. tears? Were you crying? … no, nonononono no no… why were you crying? No, it shouldn’t have happened like this… no no no no no no, NO! Look at him goddamnit, say something. Don’t just stare up at him with those… defeated, teary eyes,— lip quivering, face flush, body racking with silent sobs… fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Those tears fucking ended him— Satoru couldn’t bear to see you cry.. couldn’t bear with the idea that he was the thing to make you cry. It felt like his heart, which always in the end belonged wholly and solely to you,— was ripped from his chest, squeezed and shattered. He reached out to wipe those god awful tears from your face, only for you to flinch, flinch from him. 

You had looked right through into his heart: his ugly, worm eaten heart, and coveted it with such reverence, even when it bared its teeth, snarling and biting your flesh. And what could Satoru do in return when presented so lovingly to your heart? He killed it. Shattered it. Chocked it,— blew it up into oblivion. 

Now, there really was an infinity of space between the two of you, and Satoru felt alone, truly alone,— because with you he was never really alone, not like now. Not when he so ferociously chased you away. 

You’d given everything to Satoru, and he fucked shit up. Now, with you pushed away, with Satoru the most distant he’s ever been from humanity,— now: he as willing to do anything to fix it— to mend your heart. He’d do anything,

... ANYTHING. 

—————————

Now as an adult, and as a teacher at Jujutsu Tech himself, Satoru is grown. Matured. 

Every night he’d visit you, and just about every night he’d be rejected. 

But on those few nights you did let him in, seeing the pitiful look in his eyes, the slight quiver in his lip, the ever so slight glisten of a tear— he was totally and completely yours. Like a sad puppy, he’d just sit there at your feet, whimpering, uttering apology after apology, each and every one from the heart 

He’d offer to provide for you: buying lavish things and offering the finest dinners. But, you weren’t one to be bought out— which you told firmly to Satoru, who’d then instead offer to cook for you, clean for you,— love and praise you. Breathlessly whispering everytime you stole the air from his lungs how handsome you were,— how beautiful,— how absolutely ethereal you were,— even with the scars you’d had acquired from your years in sorcery. Something he’d shame you for in the past, tell you how they showed your weaknesses, the same man only a year later on his knees for to worship 

The nights would become more frequent, and soon every time the sun would descend and fall from the sky, Satoru would come pawing at your door. 

He’d get down on his hands and knees, crawling to you, like some kind of dog,— his legs shaking like a pathetic mutt’s. The so called “Strongest” sorcerer would sink to his knees and grovel, beg for your forgiveness,—  for even the tiniest minuscule fraction of your time, for you to just look at him,— look him in the eyes, pay attention to him. You wouldn’t even need to touch him, Satoru would begin to sob, crying as tears streaked down his pale cheeks. 

He's naked, completely bear and vulnerable in front of you,— physically unable to seperate himself even if he wanted to, his infinity weak. You owned him, the cockiest, most powerful and revered sorcerer a messy,  sniffling wreck at your feet. Sometimes he’d come in bloody, the guts of his enemies still dripping from his snowhite face. Bloodstained hands trail up your body, wet lips placing the gentlest of kisses up your thighs. His big, beefy arms wrapped around your waist, head in your lap, mouth tracing and kissing wherever you’d allow him. 

Only when he’s fully submitted, laying himself  completely vulnerable before you,— physically and emotionally, would you finally touch him,— take him. 

Just like all the way back when,— you’d give him a reason to cry: bending him over your kitchen counter, the dining room table, the fucking balcony of his apartment— you’d bury yourself deep inside, rolling hips filling him up with your seed,— relishing in his breathy whines and whore-ish moans: 

-----☆。*。☆。

“G-gah-! Ngh-!.. b-baby— what if they s-..see us??!” Satoru groaned, back arching like a porn star while you continue to hit him from behind. 

“G-good… le-let them.-“ you ground out, struggling to pound into him with the way Satoru’s ass clenches desperately around your cock, “f..-fuck ‘Toru, — yer’so tight-! Aha.. -ha-.. relax.” 

“M’ sorry-! Ya just feel… so-so ..good! MMM~! Yeah, just like th..-that-!! G-god..- I can feel you baby! So good, so good!!—“ 

You choke him off, grabbing his legs and forcefully spreading his plush ass cheeks, drilling into the new opening with a renounced vigor. 

Satoru fucking squels, hands flying forward onto the balcony railing. You bend him forwards, sending his front off the side entirely, cackling at the way his perfect, naked body shakes violently from the cold. You’re still halfway dressed, a button up concealing your chest and a tie to keep yourself professional. 

“Mmm..- don’t like the cold?” You coo, relishing in the way he clenched harder around you, desperately trying to milk your cock for additional heat. “Louder. ‘Taro. Let them hear, let them all see you absolutely whoring yourself out,— let them see how pathetic you look around my cock—“ 

He whines pathetically, having already came twice before while inside, overstimulation on the horizon

You snake an arm around his torso, propping him up more, fingers gliding over his muscular chest.

He screams when you squeeze his nipple, the cold biting the stub solid. You chuckle,— always loving how sensitive he was around his chest area,

“Good boy, look at you,— taking my cock so well~ what a beautiful sight for the neighbors you are, so pretty, face already looking so dumbed by my dick” 

Satoru moans, ass bucking against your pelvis as you pinch his nipple again. He’s beyond words at this point, having fully lost all sense of self a while ago. He looks every bit the fucked out little whore he was,— your pretty lil’ boy toy. You snicker, starting your thrusts up again, knowing you coming in his ass would bring him back down more than anything

Not missing the way his hardened cock started leaking again, him half-mindedly humping the air, you take him on your fist, suddenly jerking him back to his body. 

He tenses so hard you’re surprised his muscles don’t snap entirely. You pump his cock mercilessly, hungrily awaiting that wave of white cum. Satoru releases with a scream, bending over the railing. 

“Fuck, ‘Toru, that might be your biggest load yet” 

He heaves, sobbing as his dick twitches painfully, the last of the warm liquid pooling onto the balcony floor. You come near after, filling him full of your seed. 

You look down, admiring your work; Satoru panting like a dog, eyes rolled back so far he was seeing heaven. He takes shuddering breaths, accidentally skipping a beat when you pull out, cum dripping out of his ass. You keep him upright, lest he fall head first over the balcony railing. 

You bend down, placing a gentle kiss onto his neck, licking the sheen later of sweat accumulated on his skin, savoring the salty taste. 

You take satisfaction in knowing only you can reduce Satoru to such a state,— not even his torment from your student years putting you in such a pathetic position. 

You’d given him a perfectly good reason to cry. 

And you weren't even done yet,

“You wanna pay me back from how you treated me like shit in high school, yeah?”

Satoru nods vigorously, unable to really do anything else, and you chuckle, 

“Good boy, I’m not remotely done with you yet…” 

.

The arousal mixed with pure fear in his eyes is enough to have your cock hardening again. 

—————--- ☆。*。☆。

[A/N]: Istg Gojo is so fun to write for he's my favorite blue eyed king

I absolutely ADORE how @yunymphs writes Gojo, ONGGGGGG HOLY JAJAHSHHSHHS had me FERAL reading that smut between Gojo and a crying reader and it inspired me to write this so thank you so much for the yummy food, @yunymphs !! <33

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Do you still do alice in borderland requests? If so, then could I request yandere chishiya headcanons? Thanks!!

Yandere Chishiya Headcanons

Warnings: Unhealthy Behaviour, Yandere Behaviour, Obsession, Stalking, Manipulation, Descriptions of Violence and Death, Death, Minor Spoilers for Chishiya's Past, No Pronouns used for Reader except for 'You', etc.

This man acts, looks and feels like a cat; and by that, I mean he's sly, slick, and has little regard for anyone who doesn't benefit him.

All except for you, it would seem.

You were just another person who fell into the Beach's jurisdiction, plucked from the Borderlands and dropped into a thin veneer of humanity.

As expected, you grew to fear the Militants, the games, but you'd found yourself more or less adopted by a loose group of players who just wanted the same as you; to go home.

Chishiya was in the periphery of this group, existing only around the edges, never a centrepiece.

That, was, until he started to take notice of you.

It was harmless curiosity at first; a desire to know exactly who his associates were affiliating with.

After all, you weren't entirely forthcoming with details about yourself, often shifting the conversation to anything else when it included your personal life.

You didn't even have a name, having kept that private, too.

For all anyone was concerned, you could've been a myth - a mystery - with how elusive you were.

Not to mention your penchant for disappearing whenever someone turned their back on you for more than a second.

Unbeknownst to them, you just wanted to be alone, and by keeping information about yourself scarce, you reduced the risk of them becoming attached to you, and vice versa. Isolating yourself in your room seemed to help, too.

Chishiya watched you.

Whenever you were nearby, he had an eye on you, either his own or Kuina's, and would commit your every quirk and habit to memory, trying to find a weak point.

Or, that was what he told himself.

Over time, as he came to see how proficient you were in the games, he saw you as a valuable asset.

During games, he'd scan the area for you whenever he had a spare moment, and his mind wandered to your potential whereabouts - your condition - whenever you weren't in sight.

During one of these games, he couldn't seem to find you anywhere.

Soon enough, he found himself asking Kuina if she'd seen you.

"No," she told him, standing to her full height, the body next to her stripped of supplies. "Why? Something wrong?"

A scream rang out, and Chishiya's ears pricked, attention snapping to the source.

You bolted across the apartment complex on the floor below, pursued by someone - more so something - twice your size, wielding a sword.

Chishiya acted on pure adrenaline and instinct.

He vaguely heard Kuina call his name as he swung over the bannister, jumping onto the floor below and following you.

The behemoth tailed close behind, swinging his sword whenever he thought he could catch either you or Chishiya.

The sound of two sets of footsteps pursuing you forced you to push harder, run faster, eventually causing you to veer off into a room you thought would be safe.

It was little more than a dead end.

Spinning on your heel, you turned to leave the way you came, but you knew it was a futile attempt.

Two men ran in after you, one which you recognised form the Beach, the other a monster.

The smaller of the two grabbed you, pulling you aside as the giant swung his sword down upon you, almost severing you on the spot.

Weighed down with his own strength and withdrawing the sword, Chishiya took his chance.

He slipped a knife from the inside of his jacket and, before the man in the mask could begin to defend himself, plunged it into his ribs.

He didn't stop; he just kept tearing the knife into his middle, crippling him each time.

And you watched from the sidelines, curled up in the corner.

You slid to the ground and curled up.

The ordeal was over quicker than you'd expect.

Chishiya panted and looked over to you.

Seeing you shivering in the corner, he approached, keeping the knife out of your sight (and reach), offering his hand to you.

You took it, gingerly, and pulled yourself up.

With his hand still in yours, the silence of the room ringing in your ears, your body acted of its own accord.

You pulled him to you and pressed yourself into his chest.

Tears welled in your eyes and soaked into Chishiya's jacket.

He...didn't know what to do.

Initially he thought you were attacking him, ready to gut him with a concealed weapon.

But, the longer you remained tucked into his chest, sniffles becoming sobs, that possibility diminished.

His body knew what to do - what the human answer to your actions was - but his mind couldn't follow through.

And yet, the former won.

Slowly, cautiously, his arms found your middle and held you, not firm enough to keep you there, but tight enough that Chishiya could feel your fear.

It was in that second that, feeling you pressed tightly against him, he realised what human warmth felt like.

In all his years of training to be a doctor, he'd heard of this phenomenon (a phenomenon to him, a commonality for everyone else) yet had never experienced it.

He dared to look down at you as he cradled your shaking body in his arms.

Something washed over him. A feeling - a primal urge.

He couldn't place his finger on it, but he knew it was caused by you, by your cowering.

And yet, it was not a desire to see you suffer, nor to push you away. So what was it?

Kuina came running, speeding round the corner. Her eyes fell upon you and Chishiya before drifting over to the body.

She seemed more interested in what the two of you were doing, though Chishiya tried to discourage her with a dark glint in his eye.

Whatever she was going to say died in her throat, and she looked away, pretending never to have seen Chishiya in such a vulnerable position.

He looked down at you once more.

He knew you couldn't stay like this for long, even if he wanted to.

"What's your name?" he said, keeping his voice monotone as he fought to escape the haze you'd cast over him.

You sniffed, seemed to consider his question, then looked to him with wide, glassy eyes.

His heart jumped.

"(Y/N)."

After that, Chishiya became your unofficial protector of sorts.

Your "Guardian," as he referred to himself to Kuina.

He'd told her it was purely to gain your trust, to make you rely on him so that, when the time came, he could sacrifice you.

And yet, every time he tried thinking of ways he could use you, the memory of you flush against him, eyes red and cheeks sodden with tears, flashed in his mind.

Your warmth would encompass him - for a few seconds, no more - and he would be overcome with that feeling again.

He would never dare to confide in Kuina, nor himself about it.

He'd tried shoving that feeling down, putting it out of his mind.

Yet it always returned. And one night, it hit him.

The answer to his hypotheses.

He sat bolt upright in bed, looking dead ahead, as if he could see through the walls and saw you sleeping in your room.

It was protectiveness.

That feeling - that need - was the urge to protect you, to keep you out of harm's way.

From that moment on, you became the object of his obsession.

He understood that you were now his weakness, and so to protect himself, he needed to protect you.

He watches you as he did before he knew you.

Diverted your path when necessary - whenever Niragi was nearby, he'd steer you down another corridor under the pretense of needing to "Discuss the next game with you."

During these conversations, he'd learn a little more about you, though you remained guarded.

He wanted to be offended at your lack of willing, but he understood you too well to begrudge your way of thinking.

The two of you were quite similar in that regard.

You were an oyster of sorts; a shell on the outside, yet possessing a treasure within.

Chishiya would try pushing you a little more, trying to discern your interests, your hopes, your dreams, your life before the Borderlands.

Soon enough, Chishiya was not satisfied by your mere hallway meetings, instead requesting to meet you in private under the guise of keeping your conversations quiet, for there were "Eyes everywhere," according to him.

He wasn't wrong, which was what made it so easy for him to get you alone.

When you weren't talking about the games, your conversations would shift to a more personal tone.

You'd share very minimal information about yourself, and, though he didn't show it, Chishiya found himself hanging on your every word.

You actually shared some interests in common, like your literature preferences, your appreciation for Renaissance art, and your overall logical way of thinking.

Chishiya found these moments to be the most intimate ones he'd ever experienced, despite no physical contact being involved.

His eyes would drift to your arms, remembering how you'd clung to him that night when he'd rescued you.

And how he so desired to feel them around him again.

Not that he'd ever say this, of course.

He fantasizes about holding you a lot.

Considering how everything is so unstable in the Borderlands, the security you gave him, and the security he felt over you, made him feel safe. A commodity in the Borderlands.

He's started stealing some of your belongings, too.

Well, of the few you have.

He stole your pillow case and put it over his pillow so he can smell you when he's drifting off to sleep, imagining you there with him, calming him.

Considering all the pillow cases in the Beach were identical, you'd never be able to tell.

He gets a bit of a thrill out of you being so close to something of yours he's taken whenever you come over to his room.

Makes him feel alive in a way the games don't.

It makes him feel human; like he's discovering love for the first time.

One evening, he had the idea of purposely endangering you during the games just so he could swoop in and save you.

The idea was a fleeting fancy, nothing more. But it haunted him, watched him.

And he found himself enacting it.

And, sure enough, it worked.

During one particularly stressful game, you'd lost a key you needed to unlock a door and find a ticket, which would give you your escape.

The keys had been well hidden throughout the map, and when you'd found yours, you hoped and prayed the door it unlocked would actually have a ticket behind it.

Chishiya had finished a good ten minutes before you, and when your back had been turned, he'd swiped your key from the band of your swimsuit, pocketing it, disappearing behind a corner before you'd even realised what had happened.

And now he watched you panic, cry, and near give up as the timer counted down when you found your precious key gone.

He reveled in your distress, as ashamed as he'd be to say it. The fruits of his labour hung over him in his mind's eye; the feeling of you pressed tightly against him.

Chishiya appeared behind you like a phantom, presenting the key to you.

"Found this a few minutes ago; thought you'd have some use for it."

You near wept into his chest, just as you had done during your first meeting.

You were never in any real danger, Chishiya made sure of that.

But he needed to make you believe that you were so his plans would take full effect.

That evening, you barely left his side, sticking close to him.

You just needed some form of comfort, something to help you make sense of what had nearly happened.

This was the second time he'd saved you, protected you from death, and you weren't going to let him out of your sight.

That was far too close for your liking. Losing your key like that - you had no idea how you'd managed to do such a thing.

And Chishiya consoled you throughout the night, reveling in how you held his hand, cried into his shoulder, berated yourself for being so careless with the literal key to your survival.

His heart thrummed, and he near purred at the feeling of your skin on his as you rested your head on his shoulder, wrapped in his jacket.

He felt like he owned you.

And that's how Chishiya wanted you: dependent on him and him alone.

And now, with you sleeping at his side, nestled into his chest, he counted the infinite ways he could make that so - how he could keep you with him.

Forever.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously :-)

Masterlist

Masterpost

[chvoswxtch]

carnal desire

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader

summary: after a long night defending hell's kitchen, matt seeks a release within you.

warnings: swearing, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 3k

a/n: all of the warnings. every single one of them. all the kinks. this was purely me going feral over the black suit of sin. i refuse to apologize. happy sinning. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

Any trace of guilt Matt felt about slipping through your window in the middle of the night vanished the second the purity of your scent enveloped him. The steady rhythm of your heart had lured him in like a siren’s song, and even though he could tell from three blocks away that you were deep beneath the blanket of sleep, he’d made up his mind that he would ask for your forgiveness later.

Matt carefully shut the window that you left unlatched just for him, keeping his footsteps light as he followed the familiar path from the living room to your bedroom. Removing his gloves from his hands, his fingers twitched at his sides sensing the soft silk slip that covered your body. His favorite. Matt had gotten it for you as a gift, and you had gone out and bought it in several more colors claiming it was the softest thing you had ever worn. Your skin was incredibly soft as it was, but covered in the fabric of silk…God that was something else.

Toeing his boots off by your door, he silently snuck around the bed to perch on the edge of it, removing the cloth mask from his face to set on your nightstand. He allowed his fingertips to trail faintly along from the top of your shoulder down to your wrist languidly, repeating the path in the opposite direction as he felt you begin to stir. He should feel bad about waking you up at such an hour, knowing you had to be up early for work, but his carnal desire couldn’t be tamed tonight, and the Devil wanted his fill.

“Wake up, sweetheart.”

Matt brushed his lips along the shell of your ear as he whispered, starting a trail of open mouthed kisses along your jawline. The feeling of his coarse facial hair tickled slightly, and even subconsciously, you leaned into his touch. Matt smiled to himself at this, always loving the way your body reacted to him. It filled him with a sense of pride and power, knowing only he could elicit that kind of reaction from you. He lightly grabbed your face in his hand to turn it more towards himself, leaning in to bump his nose against yours before placing a soft kiss to your lips.

“Come on, angel. Wake up for me.”

The labor of your breathing became lighter, signaling to him that he had gotten through to you. As you began to slowly wake up, you felt a blaze of warmth cradling your face, and realized the velvet timber of Matt’s voice wasn’t just echoing in your dreams; he was here. Blinking a few times, Matt’s shadowed form suddenly came into focus, and you instinctively grabbed onto his wrist.

“Matty?”

“Hi, pretty girl.”

Letting your eyes adjust to the darkness, you sat up slowly to face Matt, trying to get a good look at him with the aid of the glowing moonlight filtering in through your curtains. He didn’t appear to be in bad shape that you could tell, and his face was surprisingly free of blood and bruising. Placing your palm on his chest, a slight shiver ran through you feeling the heat coming off his body beneath the thin black athletic shirt he wore. As much as you wished he would wear something that could actually protect him from harm, you couldn’t deny how goddamn good he looked in the black outfit he wore. The shirt and pants clung to his body like a second skin, shaping every outline and ridge of muscle in his chest, showcasing his strong arms and powerful thighs, and curved perfectly around that glorious ass of his.

“I’m not hurt.”

There was a somewhat playful smile gracing the corner of his mouth, but the Devil was still nestled in his voice. Your lips parted slightly as you stared at him, trying to figure out which version of your boyfriend was sitting in front of you right now.

He slowly tilted his head to the side, most likely picking up on the increase in speed of your heart rate. He still held your face in his palm, staying quiet for a moment as he trailed the pad of his thumb along the entirety of your bottom lip.

“But I wouldn’t have woken you if it wasn’t important.”

“I don’t mind when you wake me up, you know that.”

Whatever remorse might have been swimming around in his conscience disappeared with those words. He loosened his hold on your face, only to let his hand fall slowly down the column of your neck, keeping his fingers loose and his hand open as he placed his palm flat against your sternum. He always gave you an option to say no before he let himself loose.

“Good girl.”

A quiet gasp slipped past your lips, and suddenly you were wide awake. You knew exactly who was sitting in front of you right now, and exactly what he wanted. 

“What do you need, D?”

Matt cherished that the two of you knew each other so well, that words weren’t always needed. Sometimes he struggled to find the right ones, but you still knew what he meant anyway. You could read him almost as well as he could read you. 

“You, angel. Always you.”

The aroma of your arousal beginning to leak between your thighs had him inhaling deeply, letting out a low growl that went straight to your core. His fingers began to coil around your delicate neck, trying his best to keep the Devil at bay until you granted him the key to unlock his chains.

“Then take me. I’m yours.”

God had never answered a single one of his prayers, but you always did, and you were the one thing the Devil and the man seemed to agree on worshiping.

Although you never voiced it outloud, you sensed that Matt had figured out just how much you enjoyed it when he let the mask of the charming Catholic lawyer slip and showed you the side of himself he usually only reserved for the wicked that lurked in the shadows. Matt was an exceptionally attentive lover, and your needs were always fulfilled, sometimes more than you could handle. But when he let the darker side of him take over…when he gave in completely to the Devil inside him and really lost control…well that’s when you and the Devil both got to have your fun.

Sex with Matt when he was in this headspace was usually hard and rough, not that you minded the slightest. He seemed to be hellbent on testing your limits, and you were more than willing to let him try and break you. You were just as curious as he was to see how far he could push you. It was like there was a relief he was able to find inside you that he couldn’t find out on the streets some nights, and if you were being honest with yourself, you preferred him searching for it within you where at least you knew he was safe.

But something about tonight seemed…different. As soon as you granted him your permission, something inside him flipped, and you could see it flash in his eyes like a comet darting across the sky.

There was nothing gentle about the way he grabbed your hair by the roots, forcing you onto the floor onto your knees as he sat on the edge of your bed, spreading his legs wide enough for you to fit between. He yanked your head back by your hair, causing you to let out a noise of surprise as you stared up at his shadowed features. This was definitely new, and while the way he tugged at your hair stung slightly, it was completely drowned out by the dull ache that had formed between your thighs and the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your own ears.

“You know what to do.”

Matt’s voice was huskier than usual, and it made you shiver despite the heat growing between your thighs. You weren’t sure if tonight had been a bad night, or he was simply testing your limits more than he ever had, but you were more than happy to comply. Your fingers made quick work of tearing open his belt, tugging his pants and briefs down just enough to free his cock. He quickly darted his hand out to grip onto your wrist roughly when you reached for him, making a tsk tsk noise in the back of his throat.

“No hands. Just your mouth.”

Without giving you another second to hesitate, Matt gripped onto the back of your head and guided your mouth to his aching cock, a slight hiss leaving his lips when the warmth of your tongue met the underside of his sensitive head. The saltiness of his precum coveting your taste buds made you moan, and he chuckled darkly above you as he shifted his hips upwards to slip more of himself past your lips.

“Always so eager to take my cock down your throat, aren’t you?”

All you could do was hum in response. You didn’t always get as many opportunities as you’d like to have him in your mouth. Ever the giver, Matt was usually the one with his mouth on you, and you usually had to catch him off guard or wait for him to get like this to get your turn. Sometimes it was so incredibly hard to convince the man he was just as worthy of pleasure, so when given the opportunity, you didn’t waste it. 

Matt panted above you, letting out little groans of pleasure which only encouraged you to take him deeper into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks to suck him even harder until drool started to dribble down your chin. He liked it when you got messy, and based off the low growl that ripped through his chest, you knew he could smell just how much of a mess sucking him off was creating between your thighs.

“Shit, you’re pratically dripping onto the fucking floor right now. You like sucking my cock that much? Such a filthy little whore for me, aren’t you? You’d stay on your knees all fucking night if I wanted you too, wouldn’t you?”

Matt clearly wasn’t satisfied with the hum you gave him, because his hand was suddenly around your throat, nearly cutting off your air flow as he pulled your mouth off of him, bending down slightly so that your noses were merely an inch apart.

“I asked you a question. I expect an answer.”

“Yes…yes, whatever you want.”

Your voice was hoarse and breathless as it came out, and an absolutely sinful smirk split across Matt’s lips as he cocked his head to the side with a low hum deep within his chest.

“Whatever I want?”

“Yes.”

“Open your mouth.”

Without hesitation, you parted your lips, to which Matt tightened his hold around your throat, causing your eyes to widen as he dropped his voice an octave lower.

“Wider.”

There was a hardness to his voice you had never heard before, and you whimpered as you opened your mouth as wide as you could. Without missing a beat, Matt suddenly spit into your mouth, giving your throat a tight squeeze.

“Swallow.”

Your eyes doubled in size at the act, and you immediately followed his command to his amusement. Matt chuckled darkly again, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip as he snarled.

“You pathetic little slut.”

Matt suddenly rose to his full height, pulling you up with him as he shoved you onto your bed roughly. He pushed your slip up your hips, ripping your panties clean off to toss behind him as he climbed onto the mattress behind you. Even though you knew he could smell the slick between your thighs, that didn’t stop him from bending down to spit onto your pussy, nudging your legs apart with his knee as he gripped onto your hips and easily slipped his cock within your warm walls.

A loud moan of surprise tore from your throat at the sudden intrusion. Matt usually at least gave you a warning, even when he was like this, but your eyes widened when your hazy brain abruptly realized something.

“Wait-”

A loud slap echoed throughout the room as a harsh sting from his palm came down against your ass, jolting your body forward and causing you to squeeze your eyes shut. 

“Shut the fuck up, and take it.”

A soft whimper left your lips as you gripped onto your sheets when he started mercilessly pounding into you from behind. It took everything in you to be able to focus enough to get the words out.

“Matt…you’re not…fuck…condom…”

Panic suddenly started to rise within your chest. You weren’t on the pill, and Matt hadn’t slipped on a condom. You knew it because you could feel everything. Every ridge of every single vein, the slope of the head, his entire cock was practically being imprinted within your walls. The heat from Matt’s body was suddenly everywhere as he leaned over you, his fingers coiling around your throat again tightly, his deep voice pouring into your ear as he growled lowly.

“No. You’re fucking mine, you understand? This is my pussy. It belongs to me. I’ll fuck it how I want, when I want. You’re gonna let me fill this tight little cunt up, and you’re gonna take every fucking drop like the good girl you are. And you’re gonna fucking leave it there, so everytime you move, you feel me. You understand?”

You should be concerned. You should be worrying about the implications about what this meant. What if you did get pregnant? What did that mean for you and Matt? Did he really want that? Did you?

But fuck it was so hard to concentrate on anything other than how good it felt to be getting fucked by him like this. Somewhere in your subconscious you decided that if Matt didn’t care, neither did you.

You could faintly hear his words in your ear, but from the way he was restricting your air flow, and the way the head of his cock kept hitting that spongy tissue within you with a vengeance over and over that made you see stars, you couldn’t answer. You felt like you were on the verge of passing out until his warm breath draped over your neck, his words echoing in your ear from somewhere far away.

“That’s it…fucking take it. Take it like I know you can. Fuck…you feel so goddamn good. You’re mine, yeah? C’mon baby, tell me. Tell me you’re mine. What’s the matter baby, huh? I fuck you stupid already? You gonna come on my cock like the pathetic whore you are?”

The headboard on your bed was banging against the wall so loudly, it sounded like it was about to go straight through. Everything in your room seemed to shake, as if there was a high magnitude earthquake happening, and even though it had been nighttime a few minutes ago, suddenly the sun was erupting right before your eyes, blinding you completely. You couldn’t see anything but pure white or hear anything but a faint ringing in your ears, and your body convulsed with an overwhelming sense of pleasure that brought tears to your eyes, every faint touch causing you to jerk away. 

The soft lull of a gentle voice in your ears slowly brought you back down as warmth spread throughout your entire body, and you could just barely make out the gentle touch of someone’s palm cradling your face. After a few minutes of trying to catch your breath, you realized it was Matt’s voice whispering softly in your ear.

“C’mon baby, come back to me.”

Your body felt like it was buzzing with pure electricity coursing through your veins, and the slightest shift of his hips had you crying out in overstimulation, futilely trying to crawl away as tears slipped past your waterline. Matt shushed you quietly, allowing the warmth and weight of his body on top of yours to slowly calm you down, pressing soft kisses along your jawline and running his fingers through your hair to soothe you.

“Shh, it’s alright angel. It’s alright, just breathe for me. Are you okay? Was it too much?”

“I…I…don’t know. It’s…just…I don’t-”

“Shh, just relax. Let me hold you. Just feel me, honey. Focus on me. I’ve got you, okay?”

After a few moments of Matt kissing your cheek lovingly and delicately stroking through your hair, all the nerves in your body seemed to relax, and your eyes became heavy with exhaustion. A shiver coursed through you feeling the heat of his release starting to slip down your inner thighs.

“Matty?”

“Yes my love?”

“Stay.”

Matt chuckled softly, carefully detaching his hips from yours, causing you both to wince from the loss of contact. He quickly shed the rest of his clothes before pulling you into the safety of his arms, tugging the covers up around you while pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Where else would I go, hm? You’re here. I wanna be wherever you are, baby.”

“Matty?”

“Yes, angel?”

“We didn’t…you didn’t…what if-”

“Shh, we’ll figure it out in the morning. Go back to sleep, my love.”

“Matty?”

He couldn’t help but smile at the sleepiness in your voice, nuzzling his nose against your cheek as his arms tightened around you.

“What is it, honey?”

“Love you.”

Even as you drifted in and out of consciousness, you could feel Matt’s smile pressed against your cheek.

“Love you more, angel.”

There were a million questions floating around in your head, but exhaustion seemed to fill your blood like lead, and the comfort of Matt’s body heat coaxed you back into a slumber quickly. Whatever questions you had could be answered in the morning. At least right now, you could fall asleep knowing that Matt was safe, and he was with you.

tags: @yarrystyleeza @little-miss-dilf-lover @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042

[sargeant-bxrnes]

morning love [pg8]

summary: it wasn’t often when pedri and you got to spend a lazy morning in bed, so both just make the best out of it.

warnings: none?? pedri’s really sweet & it makes you want him bad. | SMUT: fingering, handjob?, morning, slow, sleepy sex, unprotected sex, praising

wc: 1.3K

requests are open!                                         my masterlist

You two had fallen asleep cuddling after a movie marathon, and you didn't want to move an inch from his embrace— instead, you snuggled closer, smiling as you felt the warmth of his body against your own.

Pedri seemed to be half awake, he wrapped his arm around your body, pulling you even closer to himself, the shirt you were wearing riding up your body.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," you mumbled at him, turning your head to kiss his cheek. "did you sleep well?"

"Sí, I always sleep well when you're with me, mi amor," he said with a husky, soft voice, lifting his head from the pillow to peck your lips. "how did you sleep?"

"Perfectly," you said and giggled softly. "thanks to your snoring."

"At least I'm not the one who talks in her sleep." he mumbled with a raspy voice and a chuckle.

"Guilty as charged," you admitted, looking at him over your shoulder. "But at least I don't hog the blankets like you do."

"That's because you always steal them in the middle of the night." he defended himself while the tips of his fingers slowly caressed your warm skin under the blankets.

"Hey, I need them to keep warm." now it was your time to justify yourself, while you turned your body around so you could face him.

Pedri smiled wider and wrapped his arms around your body, completely embracing you. "I'll keep you warm, don't worry."

"You always do," you mumbled over his lips, taking a second to admire his beautiful features, his brown eyes, blushed cheeks and pink lips. "and I love you for that."

"I love you too, corazón." he replied, his lips caressing yours ever so softly.

Your lips found his in a slow, passionate borderline messy kiss, as your hand tangled in his hair, bringing him closer to you.

His hand slowly began to move down your bare back under his shirt, fingers trailing over the curve of your ass. At the feeling you gasped softly, feeling a jolt of arousal shoot through your body, instinctively seeking more, you arched your back, pressing your body more firmly against Pedri's.

Pedri took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, as he bit your lower lip lightly, slipping his tongue into your mouth in the process,  you couldn't help the moan that erupted from your lips, your hands now fisting in his hair.

Still lost in the kiss, you opened your legs wider so he could fit his body between them, Pedri lazily and slowly moved his body over yours, fitting perfectly between your legs, as one of his hands caressed its way up your thigh.

He groaned in your mouth when the tips of his fingers made contact with the soft skin of your hip, only now remembering that you weren't wearing underwear, or anything else beside his shirt.

While one of your hands was still in his messy morning hair, the other one had been slowly caressing the skin of his chest, slowly trailing down to his abs with a goal in mind, his boxers.

Pedri's hand made it between your thighs, his fingers teasing your core, slowly sliding between your lips and spreading your wetness around, he was teasing you deliberately, taking his time— thumb pressed against your clit, circling softly, making you moan over his lips, which captured the sound.

Two of his fingers entered you slowly, moving in and out to stretch you delicately, making sure you felt every little detail— his lips had moved now to your neck, where he left little sloppy, wet kisses and a couple of love bites, getting lost in the lust while your body squirmed under him, moaning his name and begging for more.

While you were enjoying yourself, you wanted him to feel good too, which is why your hands continued its path down to his boxers and slipped under them, your warm fingers teasing over his hard dick, using your thumb to spread the precum over his tip— it was his turn them to moan over your lips, praising you in his mother tongue.

Slowly you felt yourself reaching your peak, your walls clenching around his fingers as his pace picked up and his thumb pressed harder against your clit, all while Pedri let out groans and raspy moans of your name, as his hips lazily moved against your hand, fucking it.

Until suddenly, Pedri removed his hand from between your legs and pulled his body back, making it hard for you to keep pumping.

"What's wrong?" you asked with heavy breaths, your lips pressing tiny kisses to his jaw and neck.

"I need to be inside you," he explained, removing his boxers completely and getting them out of the way. "I want you to cum around my dick, mi vida."

Eager to feel him, you opened your legs wider for him, his body now caging you against the bed, one of his hands caressing your hair slowly, and with the other one he slowly guided his dick, sliding it over your clit just to tease you before slowly entering you, the pace allowed you to feel every little detail about him, and it had you putty in his hands as you arched your back from the bed.

"Joder, you feel so fucking good," Pedri moaned in your ear, slowly rocking his hips against yours, bottoming out every single time and going so deep that his hip bone touched yours with every thrust.

"Fuck, baby, I—"

"I know, princesa, I know," Pedri groaned, mantaining the same slow, maddening place as his lips messily kissed your neck and chest.

"Right there," you begged, moving your hips to your own accord and making sure they matched his pace, so this way the tip of his dick could nudge your sweet point with every thrust. "please, baby."

"Here?" he questioned with a smirk, thrusting harder this time as his dick angled to it a perfect spot inside you, that had you softly scratching his back as you threw your head back to the pillows. "Oh, it's right there isn't it, princesa?"

At this point you were rambling praises mostly, his slow, lazy pace was to die for, his dick was reaching the deepest parts of you, and with every thrust you could feel yourself closer and closer, Pedri knew it too, since he could feel you clenching harder and harder, plus, your legs has started to tremble.

Still keeping that slow rock of his hips, Pedri sneaked his hand between your bodies, his fingers starting to circle your clit, making your hips stutter and raise from the bed as he kept on fucking you.

"That's it," he praised you once he felt you clenching around him, your face contorted in ecstasy as he kissed and nibbled on your neck. "cum for me, mi cielo."

And you did, with a louder moan you finished around him, Pedri kept talking you through it as he moved his hips, not only prolonging your pleasure but also chasing his own.

It wasn't too long before Pedri found his release as well, his warmth feeling you as his body almost fell on top of yours, if it wasn't for the arm he used to keep his body up.

Sleepiness was taking over your body, and having noticed that, Pedri stood up from the bed and walked to the bathroom, quickly wetting a towel to clean both up— he approached you and delicately cleaned your thighs and his own before throwing the towel back to the bathoom and going back to bed.

He slipped under the covers next to you, and pulled your body on top of his, kissing your forehead as you sighed deeply into his chest, your arms loosely around him.

"I'm so lucky to have you," he mumbled, his voice full of affection as he repeatedly kissed the crown of your head.

You smiled up at him, feeling a warmth in your chest that you'd learned to recognize as your love and adoration for Pedri.

"I'm the lucky one," you said, snuggling closer to Pedri once again and pressing a loving kiss to his chest.

And just like that, you two fell asleep in each other's arms, the morning sun still shining down on both. It was a perfect moment, one both of you would remember for a long time to come.

[nonexistent-introvert]

Fondness

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 1.9k

Content: fluff, idiots in love, some?jealousy, confessions.

A/N: I figured I have been writing too much angst so..fun fact: Buckley is an actual dog that can be found in the TLOU games so there you go.

SIDE NOTE: IM SORRY I DIDNT KNOW DOGS CANT EAT GRAPES 😓😭 MY BAD

    “Can I ask you a question?” Joel was rubbing his neck, his eyes wandering the small diner that Jackson has managed to set up. “Spit it out already.” You answered, taking another bite of the pancakes on your plate. Joel covered his mouth with his hand, his eyes gauging you for a reaction that he himself didn’t know for what reason. He inhaled, forcing himself to blurt out the words before he just loses the courage to bring it up again. 

    “How do you know if you like someone?” You spluttered upon hearing his words. He instinctively pushed the latte you had ordered towards you. You glanced up at him as you took sips of your latte, wondering if Joel was serious. There was no hint of a smile or any form of humour that would have made his previous question seem like a joke. “Uh.. umm.” Your mind was blank, having absolutely zero answers. You furrowed your eyebrows at him, “You’re the one who was married.” You pointed out to him. Joel let out a breath that he didn't realize he was holding. “I just want an opinion.” You gave him a judgemental look, absent-mindedly cutting your pancakes into bite-sized portions. “Uh… I-” There were so many words but yet nothing seemed to make sense. It was embarrassing to admit that you practically had zero experiences when it comes to anything romantic. “I really don’t know what to say.” You admitted. “People tend to say things like you would just know. But I don’t think I ever experienced it.” You shrugged. How would you know something you never experienced, how would you meet someone and just think that they are a good fit for you? This concept never made sense to the logical part of you. 

   Joel’s shoulders deflated ever so slightly as he weighed your answer in his mind. A silence fell as Joel occupied himself with his thoughts while you focused on the food before you, giving yourself some time to ponder his question.  

   “I guess when you think of someone all the time. You search for them in crowds and subconsciously remember every detail about them.” You broke the silence. Joel looked at you, still mindlessly taking bites of your pancake. “Huh.” He merely grunted. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at him. It was one of your greatest complaints about him, Joel wasn’t one for words, preferring to answer with random sounds instead of actual words. When you first met him through patrol you had thought he hated you because of that. Thought that he didn’t want anything to do with you until you brought up the issue with Tommy who reassured you that his stoic brother has always been like this. 

   “You’re so boring, Joel.” You sighed exasperatedly when he answered another one of your remarks with a hum. Those words finally seemed to snap him out of his daze. He merely blinked at you, an ignorant look on his face. He let out a small “What?”, taken aback at your sudden comment. “It’s a conversation, Joel! You’re supposed to engage in it not reply to me with sounds. I thought you hated me when we first met because of that.” You admitted it was probably his first time hearing about this. If Tommy didn’t tell him first. He let out a chuckle, “I am not boring.” He defended, he knows you well enough to know when you truly mean your insults. “I can literally predict your responses.” You challenged. He raised his eyebrows, “O-“ “Ok.” You finished his word for him. It was your turn to look smug, you looked at him and how he slowly realised that he had just proven your point. 

   “I guess I am boring. Sorry for that.” Joel admitted with a guilty smile. “I’ll- I’ll try not to.” He promised. You merely shook your head at him. “What brought about the sudden question? You have someone in mind?” Joel smirked, “if I do?” You shrugged at him, “You can spill it. Or you can just keep it to yourself. I don’t really care.” 

   A lie. Of course you cared. 

   Joel drummed his fingers against the surface of the table. He contemplated ordering another cup of coffee but he doubted it would help his nerves. “Well I can’t stop thinking of her. I search for her in crowds. I leave my house at 10am everyday when I don’t have patrol hoping i would catch a glance of her when she passes by my porch when she takes her morning walks.” You let out a sigh, “Joel, you were once married. I haven’t even caught feelings for anyone since I was 16 and even I can tell just based of your words that you’re head over heels.” You cut him off, maybe deep down you didn’t want to hear it. Joel laughed, “Since you were 16? That’s decades ago. Even before the world turned to shit.” “I didn’t have a life ok? Everyone just seemed so childish.. and well I had better things to do then pursue a relationship.” You kicked him under the table. He simply chuckled, “You're right. Those boys didn’t deserve you anyways.” You turned your gaze away from him as you felt your cheeks heat up. Joel may be laughing, but your words made his body tense ever so slightly. Reading between the lines, what if it really meant that you didn’t have romantic feelings for anyone up till now? Then was he a fool for wanting to put this friendship on the line because he got greedy? 

   “So are you going to tell me who it is… or are we just going to move on.” You pursued but still gave him enough space to back out. Joel hummed, intertwining his hands as he casually cracked his knuckles and stretched. Trying his best to act as nonchalant as possible.

   “It’s-“

   “Joel!” Both your eyes turned to the person who had just interrupted the most crucial point of the conversation. “Oh, Esther. Hey.” Joel greeted while you nodded at her in acknowledgment. Her hands immediately fell into his shoulders casually. You shuffled in your seat uncomfortably, searching the crowd in the diner for a reason to slip away. 

  “Thanks for last night. It’s been a while since-“ It was childish but you had forced yourself to stop eavesdropping by forcing an annoying tune into your head. It wasn’t your place to know what happened between them last night. Although you felt idiotic for not catching on earlier. Esther always carried a torch for Joel, you had only realised when you overhead people gossiping about them. You just never expected Joel to reciprocate her feelings. 

   You cleared your throat, “Here take a seat. I was just leaving anyways.” You quickly stood up and gestured to the seat and left before anyone else could say anything. You had to get out, had to give yourself time to process the information as you maneuver your way through the morning crowd. 

   “Sorry, another time alright?” Joel quickly excused himself from the table. Not caring how bad it looked from an outsider’s perspective. Joel ran out of the diner, running his hands through his hair as his eyes searched for you. When Joel spotted you again, he heaved a sigh of relief. You were sitting by Buckley’s side while leaning against a tree. Buckley is Jackson’s supposed guard dog but being the friendly cheerful dog he is, he never seemed quite suitable for that job. So instead, Buckley roams the streets of Jackson, entertaining the children and accompanying most of the residents. In return, he gets treats and pats. 

      “I wasn’t supposed to feel that way.. I was supposed to be happy for him and tease him after.” You ranted softly to Buckley who was laying his head in your lap. Buckley merely whimpered in response as you continued to slowly massage the spot behind his ears. “You plannin’ on replacing me with Buckley?” The sound of Joel’s voice made your face turn red ever so slightly, wondering if he heard your sorry rant to Buckley. “Aren’t you-um... With Esther?” You questioned. “I’m with you.” Joel’s gaze punctured right through you. “Why did you leave?” His gaze softened, his eyebrows furrowing into a frown. Buckley looked up at Joel, an exasperated look on his face. As though even he thought that Joel was an idiot. 

   “I just thought that you would rather..spend your time with her.” Joel scoffed. He stared at you his brown eyes carried a hint of disappointment at your response. He unfolded his arms from his chest. 

   “I don't know what I have to do for you to understand that…” Joel moved closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. “I will choose you every time. It will always be you.” Your breath hitched in your throat. Joel and your relationship had always been complicated. Close friends were what you told most people, yet you turned up as his date on multiple occasions. You lived in the same house as him, in his spare room. The spare room he wanted to turn into his workshop but put off that idea because he hoped that you would continue staying with him. The both of you were practically partners in everything except when it comes to partners in a relationship. 

   Your eyes searched desperately for a hint of his emotions. Unsure if he meant what he’s saying to you in that specific way or was it just a passing comment. Joel sighed at your wandering eyes, he knew that you were trying to decipher if he meant it. He scratched the back of his neck, “Close friends?” He scoffed again at himself. 

   “I can never see you as just a friend because I see my future with you.” Joel cringed every so slightly at his own words. Did his words even make sense? Hell, he really should have taken the time to improve his literature if he knew he was going to pull some abstract philosophical sentence when he is confessing to you. You stared at him blankly, unsure of how to react despite knowing exactly how you felt for him. “I- I just mean- I want to be with you forever, I want to be with you till the end of time, till our hair turns white, and when I finally can laugh at your white hair as retribution for how you always tease me for mine.” Joel rambled, he knew he was. His heart lightened when he heard the sound of your chuckle at his last comment. 

    “I would like to too.” You admitted, a blush tinting your cheeks. 

    Joel doubted he had ever pulled someone into his arms in such record timing before. In a split second, before your mind could even comprehend it, his arms were on your hips and his lips were on yours.     It felt like the beginning of a new chapter. 

 —---------------------------------------------------------

    “Goddamn boy..” Tommy stood from a distance, watching everything unfold. His hands ruffled through the fur on Buckley’s head. Buckley had run into the stables that Tommy was in and dragged him here. Just in time for him to witness Joel finally making his move on you. “This really is some treasure you brought me.” He whistled, laughing a little as he rewarded Buckley with some oranges he had just picked up from the greenhouse.

[overtaken-stream]

This whole part is just King going, "My favorite color is dark, like my soul." also, this gif is so hot omfg I can't with him, I have a smut idea for him, and if I do, somehow wrap my head around it, I'll post it here and on ao3.

Yandere!King The Wildfire x reader Pt2.

It was a hasty decision, done in reaction he is unsure what to call, hardy he could handle himself when in your vicinity, it was a feeling of something intruding someplace it had no business being.

Similar to you in this situation.

His room was devoid of human touch, obviously because he barely used it, postponing his sleep until the flames on his back would collapse in on themselves, and he felt the consequences every time. It complemented his suit and the general aura he tries to surround himself with when dealing with Kaidou's henchmen, dark and containing no distractions. One specially made bed with dark covers, straightened against the wooden walls, on the other side was a wardrobe that seemed giant to a normal-sized human; unlike others, it was decorated and carefully carved, leaves, waves, ships, eyes, and unseen mysterious symbols were embedded into the burnt wood.

``It's an interesting texture.`` He remembers thinking, though he can no longer put his finger on how he got it in the first place.

And yet, in the grim surroundings, there was a light his flames could never compare to; warmth, no matter how hard he tries, will never radiate from him. It was similar to that dark house where he first laid his eyes upon you. You who have not changed nor moved on from that moment, you who trembles and shakes, cry and call out for help, insult him, and corner yourself in a place where you feel defended.

He has been in your shoes before, a long time ago, he can't be sure.

Perhaps the understanding is the cause of his heavy heart, taken away from home in such a way... He can feel his throat close up as your hunched figure shines in his view. Grime stuck itself onto your limbs, knees, and hands decorated with splinters of all sizes, hair matted and filthy from ash and smoke, and its smell follows him in his showers as he allows himself to let free of his suit. It's so recognizable.

And if his heart clenched everytime he saw you in this horrible position, nobody had to know. Not even him, it was a can of worms King won't dare to touch.

He remembers bits of information about his race, long lost to time and humanity, the whispers that came in the form of dreams speckled across his mind and reflections; the delusions and validity are mixed within his remembrances, the real and fake are smelting into and out of each other, his past is forgotten even by him, the lineage of mighty warriors feared by all is smeared across the walls with mud and blood mixed with heartfelt feelings.

In a memory long before the laboratory, his tiny ears picked up information, a word that defines and tames a feeling of awe he is experiencing—a SoulMate.

Lost words from his Ma that he was too young to understand finally make sense, a connection of minds, unconditional love, and a total understanding of each other. It's about being oneself and knowing others, a SoulMate is following and understanding One's thoughts, but They're right there with the One, side by side. Completing the soul and tying the Lunarian instincts of animals into a pretty bowtie. A Soul and a Mate.

Love at first sight doesn't exist because even if King has not experienced it before, he is not fooled by others' thinking, Love dependent on sight is lust.

But he didn't see you first, did he? He felt you.

Kaidou is not obligated to put up with a civilian within his chambers, under his roof, where the empire buzzes with insignificant life, but it has been hours after they departed from your home island, now a kingdom of ash and debris, a few hours he has spent watching you with motionless crimson eyes.

The monster gets up from the throne, the squicking of leather alerting you of his movement, forcing you to turn towards him; the last time he made any move was when he sat down on the chair you can't quite make out in the dim moonlighting, your quivers, and sniffles fade out as he gets further away from you, his broad back is turned.

It's time he explained himself.

The cold yet quiet air is disturbed when he lights up the flames on his back, coloring this room in warm shades.

Your swollen eyes and snot-filled nose could only gasp for air as he slowly turned his face back to you.

``I'll come back.`` he slams the heavy door shut.

The smell of smoke lingers in the air, the disgusting dirt of your suffering sticks onto your skin, seeps through the crack, and marks the invisible scars into your psyche.

You wished, for the first time, that a promise would be broken.

``tsk...`` the angry and tear-stained eyes turn away from the door.

Left unchecked, fear turns into irritation, irritation into anger.

Balled fists shake, out of fear, out of anger.

[slasherhaven]

bo sinclair being touch adverse at first because he's not used to being touched unless it's to be punished? then him slowly melting to reader's touch because he eventually trusts them?

Bo Sinclair Accepting a Tender Touch:

Bo didn't like being touched. That was something you realised relatively quickly. Admittedly, you thought it was a little strange considering how he seemed to have no problem with touching other people, including you.

He never said anything about disliking being touches, of course, nor did he lash out. He didn't even flinch. But he would tense up, like he was preparing himself for something. How somebody might instinctively tense up when anticipating a strike.

You never mentioned it despite how often the subtle reactions played on your mind. You knew Bo wouldn't take it well, he'd snap to defend himself. You didn't need him to tell you the root of the reaction though, you knew just enough about the brothers' childhood to know it likely stemmed from that. You also knew that was a sensitive subject for Bo, even more of a reason to not ask him about it. Even if you wanted him to open up to you so you could provide help and comfort.

So, you become more tactical about your touches.

Firstly, you always make sure he can see the touch coming. You never place a hand on him from behind, only ever doing so when he is looking at you and can predict your movements. You also tried to avoid touching him quickly. You would move slowly enough that he would be able to see what you were going to do without being obvious that you were being careful around him, you knew he would hate 'being coddled'.

It happens over time but you see it happen and it compares to nothing else.

The way he stops tensing, a little less every time you touch him. Eventually you don't have to think about it so hard. You can lay a gentle hand on him casually without him going tense. He had grown used to the casual touches and that was a great achievement.

Tender touches where a different story, something he was nearly completely unfamiliar with experiencing. The first time you brush your finger tips over his cheek, he scowls, like he doesn't quite understand what you're doing or why you're doing it.

Even when he touches you, there's something about it that makes you feel like its purposeful. Like he just can't touch tenderly and instinctively.

It's another thing that changed over time. Something that you adored watching bloom.

It's the early hours of the morning when Bo comes down the stairs, dressed in a tee shirt and sweatpants, his hair still damp from his shower.

"Why are you still up?" you ask from your place on the couch.

"Could ask you the same thing," Bo mumbled, only glancing at you. You still caught the dark circles under his eyes.

"...I was worried about you," you confessed. Bo just scoffed, continuing through into the kitchen. You stood and followed him. "Seriously Bo, you've spent all day and night working on your truck. You must be exhausted, you should get some sleep."

"We need a truck. Last lot of bastards fucked it up," he shrugged, pulling the fridge door open to grab a beer. You frowned to yourself as he opened the can and shut the fridge door.

"You could have taken breaks though," you knew you shouldn't probe, you knew it only frustrated the man in front of you, but here you were and you cared, goddamn it.

"I'm a grown man, I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself. You want to baby someone, go find Lester or Vincent," Bo huffed, leaning back against the kitchen counter and bringing the beer can to his lips.

"Bo..." you sighed, crossing the kitchen in a few strides until you were standing right before him.

Gently you took the can from his hand. "What th-" Bo began to complain but you just shushed him and placed the can down on the counter behind him.

"I'm not asking you to spill your guts or anything but clearly something is wrong, even if it is just anger about what those lot did to your truck. You worked hard all day and you're tired. Just go to bed," your voice was just firm enough for him to listen, but soft enough for him to know you cared, even if he wanted to protest about it.

"Everything is fixed," you slowly brought your hand up to his face, making sure he saw it coming, before cupping his cheek. "Rest for a bit."

Maybe it was just because he was tired and his body ached from toiling with machinery under the hot sun, but when you thumb brushed over his cheekbone he let out a soft sigh. You saw the moment he realised he had turned into your touch, saw the conflict in his eyes as he tensed up just like he used too.

You knew it this was going to be a big moment, almost a deciding moment in your efforts. Either Bo would push you away, grab his beet and tell you to mind your own business, or he would accept the soft touch.

You remained still as he assessed you, gaze darting around your face, looking like he was trying to figure something out. He must have seen your sincerity, seen all the times you chose to stay, seen all the time you had been there, because you felt him slowly relaxing under your touch again.

Bo dropped his head forward and you met him halfway, letting him rest his forehead against yours. You felt his body deflate, shoulders dropped, hands unclenching.

"Fine," Bo mumbled, "I'm tired."

You smiled a little, both fond and infuriated by the man.

You ran your fingers through his damp hair, feeling him tense again when you reached the back of his head, a texture of his scalp changing under your fingertips. You quickly moved your touch higher up on his head, feeling him relax again. You wanted to apologise but didn't verbally, knowing better than to address it.

There was so much you wanted to do. You wanted to corral him to his bed to get him to sleep already, you wanted to reassure him about anything you could think of, maybe even give him a gentle kiss. But you did none of that, not daring to break the moment.

Here Bo was, allowing himself gentleness, melting into your touch and letting his eyes flutter shut. It was a small miracle in your world, and you wouldn't want to disturb it for anything.

Standing in the artificial light of the kitchen, foreheads pressed together and a hand in his hair being the only places you were connected, may not seem like much. But it meant so much for the future in Ambrose and the future of you and Bo.

[unnamed-blob]

Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?

⇢ Pairing: Ghostface/Meg Thomas

⇢ Length: Oneshot

⇢ Synopsis: Ghostface hasn't had his hands on his darling survivor for many, many trials. The Entity isn't that cruel of a mistress to deny him for long of course.

⇢ A/N: (Dark) fluff?? In MY Ghostmeg works?? In my defense, I was sick and weak, they struck me when I had no means of defending myself- For those unaware, Slash and I have also agreed that Ghostface's ribbons have a mind of their own, and now that I have figured out how to slip that into my writing, expect it constantly.

Ghostface rose off of the splayed, mangled body of the last survivor, grimacing in disgust as he nudged it with his foot, flicking the blood off of his knife. He easily stepped over the corpse, wiping the remaining red liquid on the sleeve of his robe as the death toll rang out, the unmistakable sound of the sky parting for the Entity’s hungry grasp. He didn’t bother to look back, focused instead on striding to the now open exit gates. 

His pace was too quick, too heavy, his posture too stiff and his dismissal of his favored weapon more violent than usual, all but slamming the knife into its sheath without a glance to ensure he wouldn’t stab himself doing so. 

It’d been….. many, many, far too many trials since he’d seen his lovely little, red rabbit. Caught scent of her fear, snapped his teeth around her delicate skin, her wrists clasped in one hand, able to feel her racing pulse in her wrists, ran his fingers through her hair-

Ghostface growled, harshly yanking the mask off of his face as he shoved his hood down, digging his nails into his scalp as he ruffled his hair and tried to force the brimming edge threatening to boil over back. His ribbons lashed behind him, jerking in all directions in rapid succession. 

The killer had begun to find it troublesome to properly conduct his trials when she failed to show each and every time. Of course, that didn’t mean he’d grown sloppy, slow, useless. 

Oh no, no, of course not. Why it’d rather become quite the opposite. The survivors unlucky enough to be cast into trials with him must’ve done something to displease the Entity, to be dropped into an enclosed space when the bloodlust boiled within him. He’d lost nearly all his patience for his stealth specialized moves, preferring to go gunning for them like a bloodhound, the panicked survivors darting in all directions like brainless hares. 

The anger within him had lent him harsher swings and quicker slashes, his knife finding the spots that were sure to cause maximum pain, for choked gasps and grunts and unbridled screams. To revel in the blood that would coat him nearly head to toe at the end of each trial. 

Hooks were too kind of an end for the survivors, Ghostface would ensure a complete mori of each and every survivor. Able to feel the haze settle for just a moment while his knife would dart in and out of their soft flesh until it was too torn to take any more of his anger. 

But reset deaths could only take him so far, could soothe the growing fire within him only so long before he’d snap. By the fog, if Meg didn’t show her cute little butt soon, he’d be sure to find the survivor camp himself and drag her out with his own two-

An abrupt, panicked scream from above shattered the killer out of his musings, snapping his head upwards to catch sight of a falling figure above him. By pure instincts, Ghostface lashed out to catch her, a female slamming right into his arms, scrambling to grab him around the neck as her body trembled from the fall. 

The killer tilted his head down to catch a proper full sight of her, freezing stone still as a familiar, red headed runner was planted right in his arms, focused on vehemently muttering choice words to the disappearing Entity above. 

His ribbons had stilled in his moment of surprise, and now excitedly regained their wagging, twirling to and fro, darting closer to gently brush against Meg’s form while the killer could only stare mutely at his favorite survivor, dropped right into his own arms. 

Meg finally seemed to register that someone had caught her, turning to face him before she froze, body completely still as her wide, terrified eyes stared up at him. Her mouth dropped open slightly, a small, startled noise escaping as her grip unconsciously tightened around his neck. 

(Like a rabbit, that freezes before the hunting dog, hoping it’s gaze will pass over it if it dares not breathe.)

Ghostface’s lips twitched, before stretching into a full blown, wolfish grin, drawing her closer tightly as the survivor finally snapped out of her shock, scrambling to break out of his hold. 

“Hi baby,” he purred, easily holding her flailing figure in place to plant a kiss on her forehead, the redhead grimacing and shuddering in response. 

“Did you miss me?” He cooed, drawing her closer, tighter against himself as Meg tried to shove at his chest, kicking into open air. He rubbed his cheek against her head, akin to an affectionate cat, while the survivor tried to claw at him with blunt nails. 

“I missed youu. On my sweet girl~” Ghostface sighed silently in relief, feeling the tenseness ease from his figure, his ribbons idly entangling around her legs to keep her in place. Meg snapped to them too late, while Ghostface easily spun to a new direction, happily trotting off to a more private part of the woods instead of the killer campfire. 

Oh he’d missed her, and he wasn’t about to let anyone else catch sight of her. Meg was the opposite of complacent in his grip, kicking and fighting and scratching (really, you’d think he was holding some feral cat instead of a survivor). Her gaze darted to his exposed neck, freezing as her thoughts flashed across her face, hands twitching as she battled within herself. 

Ghostface fought to keep from bursting out laughing. How opportunistic, how cute. Not that he’d blame her of course, he’d given her his own fair share of marks to recall him by, some visible above the limits of her clothing, others more private. It’d be quite adorable for her to do the same for him now. 

Oh well. 

He gave her another bold, grinning peck on her face as Meg startled and renewed her fighting, squeezing her closer. The two of them had a lot of time they needed to make up for, and he excitedly relayed it to the horrified expression growing on the survivor’s face, his ribbons curling tighter around her in anticipation. 

He’d have to find some way to thank the Entity afterwards, for dropping such a wonderful gift right into his arms.

[sitepathos]

Worth Every Bit

A/N: a bit different from my usual posts, but I had this idea a while back and I just had to write it.

“Y/N, are you still out there,” your father yells from the back porch, his voice echoing through the forest.

“I’m almost done,” you yell back, adding the last of the lephria leaves to your basket. “I’m on my way back!”

Tonight is a full moon, so as your village’s only herbologist, you know that herbs gathered right now will be more effective than at any other time. And with so many of your fellow villagers being elderly, it’s important to have the best ingredients on hand should anything happen. Fall is coming to an end and soon the temperature will being to drop, meaning people will get sicker a lot more easily, so now it’s important to be able to brew potions as quickly as possible.

“Got everything you needed,” he asks as you walk towards him.

“Of course,” you beam, holding up your basket full of gathered herbs.

He smiles and pats you on the head, your omega instincts sponging up the attention. Of course, your father worries about you since you just so happen to be a male omega, a rare subspecies of human; omegas used to make up 10% of the realm, but after the Great War nearly a century ago, the omega population was reduced to less than 5%, and male omegas are less than 1% of that, so he’s constantly on guard. Your mother left not long after you were born, so you’re the only family the poor beta has.

“Let’s head to the tavern,” he says, motioning to said tavern. “I think the feast should be ready by now.”

The village always celebrates the end of fall with a big feast with music, games, and drinking; everyone gathers inside the tavern and goes home a few hours before the sun rises.

“Alright,” you say, excited to eat the mayor’s signature roasted boar.

Just then, the warning bell is rung, its chime telling everyone that something potentially dangerous is approaching.

“It’s a Tribal carriage,” the guard shouts from his watchtower. “It’s a Tribal carriage!”

And just like that, the air went stiff and a sense of dread entered your body, as it no doubt did to your father and everyone else in the village. The Tribe is the largest and most powerful kingdom in all of Arcadia; what started as just a small band of barbarians evolved into a vast kingdom that, under its current chief, everyone fears and no one dares challenge. For them to be here, a village on the edge of nowhere with no strategic value whatsoever, only makes this all the more scarier.

“Get in the house,” your father orders, forcing you inside the house before shutting the door and running around to meet everyone else at the main gate.

You run around to the front of the house where a window gives you a perfect view of the village entrance, where all the men have gathered, ready to defend their home should it come to it. Not that it would do any good, the Tribe is known throughout the realm for its strong and fearsome warriors who seem to lust for battle and blood; even if the carriage carries a single warrior, he would be more than enough to conquer the village and everyone in it… if there was any survivors.

Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, the carriage pulls into the village and comes to a halt just at the crowd. Two identical men jump down from the carriage and you instantly know who they are: the cousins and personal guards to the Tribal Chief himself, Jimmy and Jey Uso, known as the Twin Terrors. They’re known for being a deadly duo capable of fighting over a dozen men and coming out on top, fighting in perfect unison that many have thought they can read each other’s minds; they’re also known for being beside their cousin at all times, unless he’s sent them on a mission that requires professionals. From your spot, you can see they’re alphas; their sleeveless leather armor reveal the signature tattoos on their muscular arms and the hardened expressions they have show they’re here on a mission and won’t tolerate any interference.

Just what are they here to do?

Jimmy opens the door and out steps a bald man that you instantly identify by the very expensive and gaudy robes he’s dressed in: Paul Heyman, the Wise Man to the Tribal Chief and ambassador of the Tribe; he’s known for not only advising the Chief on running the Tribe, but also carrying out anything that requires shrewd negotiations. With three key members of the Tribe here in your isolated village, the mystery only grows. Just what could they want?

Then, the twins stand side by side on one side of the door and Paul stands on the other and the last occupant of the wagon steps down, and as he does, you feel your blood go cold and your heart skip a beat. In wolf pelt armor and a massive battle axe on his back stands the infamous Tribal Chief and Head of the Table, Roman Reigns. If Jimmy and Jey are alphas, then Roman is the apex of alphas as his muscular body looks like he crushes boulders as a hobby and wrestles bears for fun; his long hair and signature tattoo stretching from his right arm to the right side of his torso only adds to his fearsome appearance. As you look, you notice his last signature item: a gold gauntlet covered in blood; legend has it that a punch from it is capable of knocking any man down and leaves him unable to get back up.

As he looks around the village, you feel the atmosphere completely change for the worse. The Tribal Chief never leaves his castle unless he’s leading his men into battle to conquer another enemy. And right now, that seems to be the case.

“We welcome you, Tribal Chief, to Aster Village,” the mayor speaks, clearly trying to keep himself from shaking. “I am Alador Finnigan, the mayor of this fine village. To what do we owe this honor?”

“The Tribal Chief has come to make a deal,” Paul Heyman responds, his voice overflowing with the pompousness he’s known for. He turns to the twins who have pulled a massive chest made of silver and gold from the back of the carriage and place it next to the man’s feet. Paul opens it and reveals the massive pile of gold and platinum coins, gems the size of your fist, and jewelry of all types inside. Your eyes widen and all the men gasp at the massive amount of treasure. “The Tribal Chief is willing to give you all that you see here in exchange for the male omega that lives in this village.”

Once again, your heart stops. The Tribal Chief, the most feared man in the entire realm, is here for you?

“That’s my son you’re talking about,” your father grows, stepping forward, his knife drawn.

“You’re the omega’s father,” the Wise Man asks, though it sounds more like a statement than a question. “When the Tribal Chief had learned that a male omega, unclaimed and unpromised to an alpha, living in this isolated village, he knew he just had to have him. And, he’s willing to offer you all that you see here in exchange for him. Of course, for such a rare treasure, he’s agreed to offer you more.”

“My son isn’t livestock to be bought! Especially to some bastard who’s just going to use him for breeding!”

It’s then the Tribal Chief takes a step forward and if looks could kill, your father would be a pile of ashes from the look he was getting from the Tribal Chief.

“I understand you’re protective of your son, who many would kill to claim him, but you will show the proper respect for me, beta,” the man growls, making you shiver. “I’ll let this go, but talk about me like that again, and I’ll take your tongue.”

“My Tribal Chief,” Paul Heyman chimes in, getting between the two men. “I’m sure he meant no disrespect, it was just a spur of the moment. If we weren’t negotiating for his son, he would be acknowledging you.”

This seemed to placate the man, who took a step back and nodded, signaling to resume the negotiations.

“Sir, I can assure you that your son will not be used solely for breeding. The Tribal Chief has the purest of intentions with your son; he intends to take your son as his mate, and he will be treated with the highest respect. As you know, male omegas are highly coveted, so being the male omega to the Tribal Chief will earn him a place of honor at the table.”

“I don’t care if he replaces your Tribal Chief as the Head of the Table, he’s my son and he’s staying here.”

A blind man could see the look of fury on Roman’s face; he’s known for always getting what he wants and what he wants is you, and he’s not taking no for an answer.

“Sir, everyone has a price, and the Tribe has amassed treasure from all over the realm,” the Wise Man chimes in, clearly nervous at how the negotiations are going. “Just name whatever you desire, and I’m sure we can meet it.”

“We’re not haggling over the price of a set of armor, asshole! We’re talking about my son and as long as I breathe, he’ll never be yours!”

In that moment, you make up your mind. The Tribe’s reputation is known to all, and that reputation says they’re going to get tired of arguing and eventually resort to violence, which will result in the death of your father and probably the village. You throw open the door and approach the crowd.

“If you want me so bad, you should be talking to me,” you say, trying your best to sound confident, but at best, you keep your voice from cracking.

At once, all eyes fall on you and it takes all your energy not to melt into a puddle. The Tribal Chief’s eyes fall on you and smirks.

Guess he likes what he sees.

“Y/N, what the hell are you doing,” your father growls. “Get back in the house!”

He tries to pull you back to the house, but you yank your hand out of his grip and keep taking.

“I’m this village’s only herbologist. In addition to all the treasure for my father, if you promise to find a replacement for me, I’ll go with you.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Paul responds before looking to Roman. “Right, my Tribal Chief?”

“Yeah,” he says, his deep voice making you weak to your core. “We’ll have a new herbologist here first thing tomorrow morning.” He walks up to you, his hulking figure towering over you. He holds out his hand. “Do we have a deal?”

“Yes.” You take his hand and look up to him. “My Tribal Chief.”

His smirk grows and becomes all teeth. He motions to the carriage and you walk towards it without any argument.

“Y/N,” your father cries out as Roman opens the door and helps you up it. You can tell he’s trying not to cry, but the tears still fall. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And with that, you and your soon-to-be mate enter the carriage, followed by the Wise Man. As soon as the twins are situated at the front, the carriage begins to move, passing by the village gates.

“Are you satisfied, my Tribal Chief,” Paul asks, his tone rich in smugness. “I know you’ve been wanting an omega for so long and now you have the rarest of the rare.”

“You’ve done well, Wise Man. When we first arrived at that backwater village, I thought that we’d have to offer far more that that measly little chest.” He gently grasps your chin and makes him look at you. “And you worth every bit of those stupid little trinkets.”

[cece693]

Could you do a sequel to why? Where evil Bro,Billy and Stu succeed and the aftermath of their crimes?

Why? Pt.2 (Billy and Stu x M! Reader)

Sorry, I've been inactive guys. I see all the love and support you leave on my works which makes me incredibly happy. This took me forever to get out, but I hope you like it :)

Link to Pt. 1

tags: blood, murder, stabbing, killers duh, ghostface, death, m/n almost dies, but not really, just a knick really, if a gunshot to the chest counts :)

M/N watched with sick satisfaction as his sister’s world crumbled right in front of her eyes. People she trusted and loved have become her ruin. But the boy didn’t have much time to gloat as, without warning, Sydney threw her head back, making contact with M/N’s face. The impact sent him reeling back, a cry of pain escaping his lips as she seized the moment, slipping out of his grip and out the kitchen door. 

Sydney's heart pounded in her ears as she navigated the maze-like corridors. Desperation fueled her escape, but she knew she couldn't outrun them forever. Her brother would quickly recover and his lovers would surely be fueled with anger at her little stunt. Opening a random door, she gasped in relief, finding a phone on the bedside table and the Ghostface costume lying on top of the bed. Idea forming in her head, Sydney wasted no time and dialed 911, begging them to hurry before donning the costume, the mask fitting snugly over her face. If Stu, Billy, and M/N wanted to play, they would. Sydney knew she needed a weapon or her escape would be futile. The gun and knives were downstairs in the kitchen, with M/N probably guarding over them, so she had to make use of the items around her. Seeing a bat, she grabbed it before exiting. 

Downstairs, M/N was still reeling from the headbutt—blood wiped harshly off his nose as a pounding headache began, he continued his search for Sydney. With the gun gripped tightly in his hand, he checked the closet and behind every door, but to no avail. Huffing in frustration, M/N stalked towards the garage when a sudden blow came from behind. The impact sent him sprawling forward, the gun slipping from his grasp and skittering across the floor. Crying out, M/N saw Ghostface, bat in hand, poised to strike again. Panic surged through him as he scrambled to his feet, his eyes darting around for anything he could use to defend himself.

"You think you can stop me?" M/N spat, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He backed into a nearby wall, his hand closing around a lamp. Ripping it from the socket, M/N swung it at the masked figure, watching as it connected with a sickening thud. The lamp shattered on impact, glass and metal fragments scattering across the floor. Ghostface stumbled back, momentarily disoriented but quickly recovering.

Before M/N could launch another attack, Ghostface swung the bat again, catching him in the shoulder. The pain was immediate and intense, sending shockwaves through his body. M/N tried to defend himself with his fists, but Ghostface was relentless. A final swing connected with M/N's head, sending him to the ground in agony, his vision swimming as he struggled to stay conscious.

From the floor, M/N watched with wide eyes as the figure removed its mask and bent down to grab the gun. His sister looked upon him with cold eyes, blood oozing from her forehead. “Yes, and I did.” Trying to crawl away, M/N gasped when his sister aimed and fired. The gunshot echoed through the house as M/N felt a searing pain in his chest—his shirt quickly soaking up blood. 

Upstairs Billy and Stu heard the gunshot. Exchanging looks, they raced downstairs, faces contorted with fury and panic at the sight. “Sydney, you bitch!” Billy's voice thundered through the room, the intensity of his fury vibrating in the air as he rushed forward with his knife drawn. Every step was fueled by a fierce loyalty to his lovers, his mind consumed by a primal instinct to defend what was his.

Meanwhile, Stu's heart hammered in his chest as he raced toward M/N. He knelt beside his beloved, his fingers fumbling as he tried to apply pressure to the wound. "M/N, stay with me." Stu pleaded, his voice thick with emotion as he looked into his lover's eyes. The boy only smiled, as if he already surrendered to fate, but Stu wouldn’t let go yet. The sound of sirens could be heard from blocks away; M/N just needed to hang on. 

Billy made quick work of disposing of Sydney, stabbing at her body until she dropped to the ground without a pulse. He had wanted to kill Sydney on the spot, but if the sound of sirens was real and not a hallucination, they needed an alibi. Panting and covered in blood, he returned to the garage and rushed to Stu's side.

"Is he going to be okay?" Billy's voice cracked with desperation as he dropped to his knees.

"I don’t know, but we have to stop the bleeding." Stu responded, his voice shaking but determined. Together, they worked frantically, using their shirts to create makeshift bandages, pressing them firmly against M/N's wound. The sirens were closer now, almost upon them.

"Hang on, M/N. The ambulance is almost here." Billy urged, his hands stained with blood as he tried to keep pressure on the wound. Minutes felt like hours, but finally, the flashing lights of the ambulance illuminated the room. Paramedics burst through the door, swiftly taking over from Stu and Billy. 

The last thing the duo wanted to do was leave M/N’s side, but the police wouldn’t let them go without giving testimonies. “Can’t this wait?” Billy hissed, watching as the paramedics lifted M/N onto a stretcher to be wheeled off to the nearest hospital. 

“I’m afraid you need to stay here and answer some questions.” An officer explained, blocking his path. Billy’s desire to see M/N again held him back from picking up a knife to stab the man, so with one last glance at the door, Billy nodded. Stu, the lucky bastard, had left him to deal with the officer, faking an injury on his side which allowed him to ride with M/N. 

“Fine.” 

Billy took a deep breath, his mind trying to focus on the current task. "It was Sydney, she was behind the Ghostface murders. She attacked us."

The officer took notes, his expression serious. "And where is Sydney now?" 

"Dead." Billy said bluntly. "We had to defend ourselves. She left us no choice." 

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the police released them. "You can go now. We'll be in touch if we need more information."

They didn’t need to tell him twice, without another word, Billy rushed to the hospital where he found Stu in the waiting room. His shirt was covered in blood with bandages peeking from the neckline, but more urging matters were at hand. “How’s M/N?”

"Alive. They said if the bullet would've been an inch more to the left, it would've hit his heart."

Billy's eyes burned with fury at the close call. The thought of losing M/N filled him with a rage so intense it was almost blinding. He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. “We almost lost him.” Billy said through clenched teeth. 

Stu reached out, grabbing his hand. “But he’s fine. They put him to sleep so the wound has time to heal. They gave him a week max before being able to return home.” Relaxing at the information, Billy looked at Stu and smiled. With M/N now in the clear, they could celebrate getting away with the Ghostface murders.

[goldenavenger02]

old habits die screaming

There was a time that Kai thought time healed all wounds, but as he was forced to watch Lloyd be haunted by incoherent visions the same way he had been haunted by a vengeful ghost, he was starting to think that time just changed the way wounds looked.

"Stop touching it!" Wyldfyre's yell ricocheted off of the walls of the infirmary as she tried to pull her injured leg away from Kai's prodding hands.

Kai just pulled in another deep breath, his anger threatening to bubble to the surface; he knew by the way she was trying to pull away from him and her shouting was a pain response that was very similar to his own but it wasn't Wyldfyre that he was mad at.

No, his anger was directed at Ras, at the new master of smoke and that weird girl he didn't recognize. There was that small part of him that always blamed the First Spinjitzu Master for starting this entire mess, but he wasn't sure that was where the blame needed to go this time.

This seemed disconnected from Ninjago and much more connected to the Wyldness, a place that no one except for Wyldfyre knew anything about and even then, she only seemed to understand the area of it where she had grown up.

Even if she knew about every inch of the vast expanse, it was not the time to question her about it with just how mangled her leg was.

"I'm trying to help, Wyldfyre," Kai finally responded after another attempt at a kick that had her hissing through clenched teeth, "but Nya, Sora and Frohickey are still working on repairing Zane, so I can't do much."

"You can stop touching it."

Kai let go to turn to the cabinets and grab one of the ice packs, snapping it before handing it to Wyldfyre who instinctively put it against her injured leg, "that's gonna be cold for about half an hour, Zane should be fully repaired by then and he can patch you up."

"You're not staying?"

"You're not the only one who needs to lay down for awhile," his thoughts drifted to Lloyd briefly who had spent the last couple of weeks wandering the monastery in a insomnia induced daze and was more then likely beating himself up somewhere, "and Nya's gonna need an extra set of eyes going through Master Wu's notes to see if we can find anything about Shatterspin or The Forbidden Five. You should get some rest."

"Fine, but I'm not gonna be happy about it."

"I don't expect you to be. I'll be back in a couple of hours, okay?"

She nodded, giving him his chance to go take care of the next item on his list of priorities.

As he went, he couldn't stop his mind from flashing back to The Dark Island, forced to listen as Zane's father did his best to repair Lloyd's broken bones the same way he had repaired the falcon.

How Lloyd hobbled on one foot and still acted as the motivation for the team as they desperately looked for a way to return to and defend Ninjago, even if there were pain lines around his lips with every deep breath he pulled in.

Kai wasn't sure how he expected to find Lloyd after their retreat, but it wasn't opening the door to his bedroom to find him sitting on the end of his bed, hands pressed against his eyes and elbows pressed against his thighs while his shoulders shook.

"Hey, buddy?" He asked, shutting the door as quietly as possible, "are you okay?"

"Y-yeah, yeah," Lloyd's sudden shift as he stood, only stopping to wipe his face on his sleeve before Kai was met with the all too familiar fake smile that he had grown used to seeing, "I'm fine."

"Are you su-"

"How'd Wyldfyre?"

"Her leg is pretty bad, it's gonna take her awhile to heal," he delivered it as straightforward as he could, but when he saw the familiar look of guilt pass over Lloyd's face, he found himself adding, "but if she takes it easy, she should be back on her feet sooner rather than later."

"Did anyone else get hurt?" He refused to meet his eyes as his green-eyed gaze stayed fixed on the wooden floor.

"Nya and Frohickey are repairing Zane, but considering he was saying real words in real sentences, I'm sure it's not gonna take too long. Sora, Riyu and Arin are all in the clear as well, I checked them over myself."

"Good, good…" Lloyd muttered, running a hand through his hair as he moved to the door, but Kai found himself gently clasping his hand around his wrist to look into the all too tired green eyes.

"Are you hurt?"

"I gotta figure out what we're gonna do next, Euphrasia got captured and I think I need to meditate-"

"But are you hurt?"

Kai should have known that the familiar duck of his head in defeat was coming, but Lloyd's response was laced with tears in a way that made his chest burn with more than the underlying anger he had been feeling since they had been defeated.

"I'm not the one everyone should be worried about right now."

"Hate to break it to you, buddy, but we've been worried about you for weeks."

He had said those exact words before, the last time Lloyd was unable to sleep for more than twenty four hours; there was a time that Kai thought time healed all wounds, but as he was forced to watch Lloyd be haunted by incoherent visions the same way he had been haunted by a ghost, he was starting to think that time just changed the way wounds looked.

Lloyd pulled away from Kai's gentle grip on his wrist before turning around and sitting back down on the edge of his bed, fiddling with the edge of the blanket as he spoke, "I'm not hiding it very well, huh?"

"No, you're not," Kai agreed and was met with another sigh, "I think you should let me in on what's going on here, because if it's scaring you this badly…" he trailed off, his mind briefly trailing off to the various villains who had held a vendetta against Lloyd, ones that were arguably worse then Ras even though he had a master of shatterspin on his side.

"It's not Ras that I'm worried about. I've fought worse than Ras, but…" he stopped, his fingers twisting around the blanket, "But in Cloud Kingdom, when he brought out that gong…I have been hearing that noise rattle in my head for weeks and as soon as I heard it, I realized that no matter what I do, I can't stop it. The Blood Moon is coming, Ras has control of Cloud Kingdom and all I did was get Wyldfyre and Zane hurt."

His breath caught in his throat and Kai took a few steps forward before kneeling down on the floor so he and Lloyd were eye to tear-filled eye.

"I know it's nearly impossible to keep you from blaming yourself, especially now that you're taking on so much and with these weird visions, but what happened in Cloud Kingdom was not on you and if we hadn't retreated when we did, things would be a whole lot worse."

"You can thank Nya for that," Lloyd reached up and wiped his face on his sleeve again, "she was the one who told me to retreat."

"I probably should," Kai offered a quick smile before standing, wincing as his knees popped when he did, "ready to tell me how badly you got injured now?"

"It's really not that b-"

"Humor me, Lloyd."

He was met with a sigh before the green fabric covering his left wrist was pulled up to reveal a purply-green mess of bruising.

"It's not broken, I already made sure of that."

"Okay, I'm gonna get you an ice pack," Kai said, patting Lloyd's shoulder a couple times before turning towards the door, "and then you are gonna lay down and do your best to take a nap."

"But the visions-"

"I said "do your best", didn't I?" He watched Lloyd slump in defeat before he reached over and set his hand on his hand back on his shoulder, "I understand that you're scared, but you're wearing thin and if we're gonna stop these guys, we all have to be on our A game."

"I'm really trying."

"I know you are, but you have to get some rest before you break. Okay?"

"Okay."

Lloyd's voice was nothing but a resigned whisper as he maneuvered onto his back and covered his eyes with his right wrist, but as much as he wanted to, Kai couldn't linger on it and settled on running a gentle hand through his hair.

"Be right back with the ice."

The silent thumbs up was his signal to go get the ice and then figure out a way to deal with the anger that was still bubbling up inside of his chest.

[jooillusion]

I was watching a drunk scene in a movie, and my brain went to you being at a friend's apartment party with Seungmin.

Both of you are way too drunk and decide it would be a good idea to try to soober up in the bathroom. After almost flooding the place, you both end up sitting on the ground with your faces way too close to each other and many hands.

Everything that might happen next will be blamed on the alcohol when the topic of why the bathroom was locked comes up the following morning ✋️

( I'm sorry if this is too specific, I've been thinking about this since I saw the movie, and tipsy seungmin seems to be funny )

drunkfessions with seungmin <3

warnings: alcohol consumption, an unholy amount of cursing, making out, suggestive(?) kinda

pairings: o.de x reader ft. jungsu

don’t be sorry if it was too specific, it helps me think better love :) also what movie was it because now I’m curious!

“dude, trust me I saw it on the internet.” seungmin slurs over his words, the seriousness in his eyes comical. he holds up a shot of sink water way too close to your mouth. your face scrunches up in disgust, pushing away the tiny cup. “cmon, I already took my shot.” he’s pouting now. his voice is loud, booming over the music that plays outside of the door. you don’t even know why you let him drag you to the bathroom, ignoring your instinct to run after he closed the door behind you. he saw you sitting on the couch, head in hands as the headache started to develop in your head. he told you to follow him out of the kindness of his drunk heart.

when your neighbor jungsu invited you to his party, you thought it would only have a few people due to the size of his apartment. oh boy were you wrong. the apartment was crowded with people. you knew he would’ve invited seungmin, which is one of the reasons why you came.

however you were familiar with seungmin but not drunk seungmin. he was sweet, honest, and overall chill. but you should’ve known not to follow him inside of the bathroom judging by the way he downed almost half a bottle of alcohol by himself, his sloppy dance moves that you had to witness due to a sudden dance circle surrounding him, and the way his voice shouted damn near every three minutes to get the party hype. but you can’t turn back the times now that you’re here.

“okay well there’s another method I read.” he says, pushing the pop up drain down to stop further water from entering the drainage underneath. he watches as the water slowly fills up the sink.

“where are you even getting this information from?” you cross your arms and raise an eyebrow.

“you ever heard of reddit?” his attention leaves the running water to turn towards you laughing your ass off. he doesn’t care though, only trying to defend his case. “if you put your head under cold water it help! seriously!”

“you actually believe that shit?” tears of laughter start to prickle at the corners of your eyes. he shoots an offended glare towards you, watching you wipe your tears.

“you’re fucking telling me slenderman didn’t have you shitting your pants when you were at least ten?” though he’s drunk, he’s terrifyingly serious, only making the situation more amusing.

“and who the fuck is that?”

seungmin sighs, his hand pinching the bridge of his nose as he sighs. he explains the ridiculous character that sounds made up from his first sentence. you’re biting your lip to keep yourself from laughing, especially when he says that he had to sleep with his mom for days after he found out.

“dude I’m serious! he could still be out here creeping outside this house and we’ll never know…” he puts his arms around his biceps, shivering dramatically. you roll your eyes at his shenanigans, finding him obnoxious but cute at the same time. he’s about to explain another story, but the sound of water dripping onto the floor catches both of yours attention—well yours as seungmin pays it no mind, still trying to get his point across. you’re reacting fast out of panic, grabbing the decorative towels that sit on the counter, pushing seungmin out of the way.

“what the fuck- oh…” his eyes widen at the filled sink and he’s following right behind you quickly. you turn the sink off, trying to clean up the water from the counters so you wouldn’t have to face the guilt destroying somebody else’s belongings. seungmin is trying to be kind enough to help, but the alcohol in his system doesn’t help his situation at all, only making him slip and fall on the small pool of water on the floor. the panic hits harder watching him land on the floor.

“holy shit! are you alright-” and you’re slipping right after him. you try to catch yourself, flailing your arms but it’s no use, bracing yourself for the impact of the hard floor and the embarrassment that’ll definitely creep up when you leave the bathroom.

the floor isn’t what you land on though. a groan is forced out of sengmin’s mouth as your body lands on top of his. and he saw it coming, his arms wrapping around your body in an attempt to catch you, the impact of it all coming down harder than he expected. you’re laying onto his chest, your cheeks burning in embarrassment especially since his arms aren’t unwrapping you. you hear his heartbeat speed up, your head lifting up to meet his eyes. he’s just as affected.

his eyes are too busy admiring you up close, his eyes trailing down to your lips, parted trying to steady your breath. reality hits him when he realizes he’s been staring for too long, almost pushing you off of him when he sits up. you catch your body from being rolled over, sitting up looking at seungmin. you’re unable to tell if the blush on his cheeks are from the alcohol or the moment you two just accidentally shared. the silence in the air is as thick as the tension, seungmin clearing his throat to kill it.

“hey um…I’m sorry if I made y-you uncomfortable,” he awkwardly scratches the back of his head, his eyes meeting yours. “I didn’t want you to hurt yourself y’know?” you’re just watching him speak and he’s waiting from a response from you.

“I was just trying to help you out. If you don’t want to be around me I understan-” you’re cutting him off, finally listening to your instincts to shut him up with a kiss. he’s almost immediately reacting, as if he was waiting for you to shut him up, his hand coming up to your cheek to stroke the soft flesh. the alcohol in your system only encourages you to be bolder, straddling his hips.

“you talk too damn much.” you say between kisses. his lips curve into a smile, his hands pulling the jacket off of his shoulders and tossing it next to him. he pulls away once the air starts to give out. you reach up behind him to twist the lock on the door, placing your index fingers between your lips and signaling him to be quiet.

he nods and immediately dives back into your lips. you’re getting bolder by the second, tongue sliding between his lips and licking inside of his mouth. seungmin is not complaining at all though, being just as hungry as you as the kiss turns sloppy, his warm hands running underneath your shirt to massage your hips. you’re both too far gone and too busy with each others lips, the party long forgotten.

the sound of knocks on your door pull you away from your sleep. you figured that you’d ignore it, but it becomes too annoying when the person seems to not give up until you answered. you sigh out of frustration, walking to the door and being greeted by jungsu with an equally sleepy seungmin next to him.

“the fuck do you want?”

“well good morning to you too, sleeping beauty.” jungsu laughs, his grip on seungmin’s arm signals that he dragged him here out of his sleep. “care to explain why you two disappeared for a while,”

your eyes suddenly widen. seungmin looks at you with the same look. the thoughts of yesterday slowly started to make their way back into your mind. you both look like your hands were caught in the cookie jar and you’re eyeing jungsu, your mouth ready to come up with an excuse but his mouth speaks faster than yours.

“and why my bathroom door was fucking locked for almost an hour? and I know it wasn’t because of reddit.”

I’m not sure if I did this correctly but I wrote this within two hours before work so sorry if this feels rushed </3

please remember that this is a pure work of fiction.