#HIS WAIL THAT TURNED INTO A SOB!!!!!! THIS SHIT FUCKING SUCKS!!!!!!!!!!! MY NOSE IS RUNNING IM SORRY MARK

[willosword]

I HATE TYHIS I HATE THIS. OH DARLING :(

#HIS WAIL THAT TURNED INTO A SOB!!!!!! THIS SHIT FUCKING SUCKS!!!!!!!!!!! MY NOSE IS RUNNING IM SORRY MARK #willow whispers #invincible spoilers #invincible

[miyaagis]

demon lover

+ pairing. incubus! oikawa / fem reader / incubus! kuroo

+ genre. dark, smut

+ word c. 2,378

+ warnings. snuff, dub/non con, implied somnophilia and stalking, facial, choking, fellatio, creampie

+ author n. part 2 of monster. there are some references from it, but u should be able to understand the story even if u didn’t read that one before :)

it has been around five weeks since your encounter with oikawa and you’ve felt restless ever since.

it doesn’t matter where you are —on the streets, at uni, even in your own bathroom— there’s always an unsettling feeling of being watched.

but the nights are worse.

as soon as you close your eyes, images of him smirking down at you plague your mind and dreams. he’s repeatedly having his way with you, fucking you and making you come over and over again until you wake up. leaving you sore and wide awake for the rest of the night.

the days go by and it’s as if your energy is being sucked out of you, not even coffee nor energy drinks are able to keep you awake and away from the haunting dreams.

your body feels weak, you are weak. your fragile-looking body, covered in bruises and dull, sunken eyes easily attract looks of concern from your friends and family. but what’s most concerning it’s the fact that even if you’re restless, you keep thinking about that night.

your body and soul ache for him and you wonder if it’ll take another year until you can see him again.

it’s not until you’re at your weakest, delirious, and on the verge of insanity when he shows up. or at least that’s what you hope, being unable to distinguish your dreams from reality anymore.

“you’ve been such a good girl,” he coos in your ear, stroking your hair out of your face and leaning closer, “have you been waiting for me?”

you nod frantically, whimpering when his lips touch your cheek. he shuts you up with his mouth, his thumbs grazing the skin of your cheekbones and making you melt.

the blissful state you’re in vanishes when an unknown pair of hands start removing your clothes.

your eyes widen, trying to get a look at the intruder but oikawa keeps your face fixed on him with a strong grip on your jaw.

“i brought a friend, hope you don’t mind.”

you take a peek over his shoulder, and your eyes meet a pair of menacing ones. you recognize him immediately as oikawa’s friend from the party —another demon.

“hello, kitten. don’t mind me; i just had to see with my own eyes the pretty pussy that he has been bragging about.”

the dark-haired demon’s lips curl up in a smirk when he sees the troubled look on your face. but it’s true, oikawa hasn’t shut up about you so it's reasonable kuroo asked him to share.

his hands roam over your legs, forcing them open and keeping a firm grip on them when you try resisting him. he takes his cock out of his pants with one hand and lines it up with your entrance, marveling at the sight of your folds.

“oh and you can call me master too.”

he slides in without warning nor prepping you, the burn of your walls stretching as they make room for his cock bringing tears to your eyes.

you don’t want him. it should be oikawa, not him.

“s-stop, please,” you whine, looking at oikawa when kuroo refuses to acknowledge your pleas. but his eyes harden, a dark look taking over his features.

“don’t be rude to our guest and shut up.”

his words break your heart, tears now falling freely down your cheeks as you keep being fucked by the other demon.

“shit, kitten. i can barely fit inside your pussy. let me stretch you out, yeah?” kuroo groans as he keeps forcing his way inside your walls, his girth finally sheathing in and causing him to breath out in relief, “that’s it, sweetheart.”

“isn’t she amazing?” oikawa smiles brightly at his friend, craning his neck to the side to observe your pussy being abused by kuroo’s cock, “the neediest cunt i’ve ever had.”

you clench involuntarily at oikawa’s words which make kuroo groan.

his hand slaps your thigh only to grab a handful of it and squeeze it, “i knew you’d love my cock.”

you’re about to protest when kuroo places your legs over his shoulders and leans forward, resting his upper weight on top of you.

“no! wait– please. too much! ‘s too much, please!” you try to push him away, your nails digging into the skin of his forearms but your desperate wails fall on deaf ears.

kuroo’s pace is relentless, every graze of his cock against your snug walls feels like fire.

your eyes lock with oikawa’s, he looks pleased —much to your dismay— and you feel your heart drop when he catches you staring and smiles.

“enjoying yourself?”

a cry escapes from your lips when kuroo picks up his pace, the distinctive sound of his cock thrusting inside your pussy taking over the bedroom.

“fuck, shut up. you’re getting annoying,” kuroo groans but you’re way too preoccupied with the pain to register his words.

you keep sobbing your heart out, your desperate cries getting louder as he continues his assault on you.

his large hand suddenly covers your mouth, concealing your sounds and making your eyes widen.

“i told you to shut the fuck up, stupid whore!”

“can you control yourself and not kill her before i get a turn?” oikawa’s irritated tone reaches your ears, “you always do this.”

the tears refuse to stop, kuroo’s actions plus oikawa’s words wounding you both physically and emotionally.

“i’m close, fuck– so close,” kuroo’s grunts in your ear, the snap of his hips picking up its pace as he draws to his end. 

a few thrusts later and he’s finally reaching his high, emptying himself inside of you. his cock pulses as it pumps his cum inside your raw walls, moaning in relief at the way they wrap around him.

once he lets go of you, you curl up around yourself. your soft cries are the only audible thing in your bedroom, pain tugging at your heartstrings as the weight of what just happened falls on you. you’re so lost in your own suffering that you miss the quiet sound of clothes rustling.

it’s not until oikawa’s familiar scent reaches your nose that you look up —teary-eyed and with your eyelashes wet with tears— and observe as he crawls up his way on top of you.

“will you be good to your master?” he asks while wiping your tears away, pouting at you mockingly.

“please,” you don’t even know what you’re asking for, your mind too hazy and your body too weak to comprehend what's going on around you. 

but he goes in anyway.

his hard cock enters you easily, sliding in thanks to kuroo’s cum still coating your insides and bottoms out almost instantly.

“shit, it feels way better when you’re awake.” 

he starts a slow pace, basking in the feeling. his hands start kneading your breasts, squeezing the soft flesh under his fingers, and then running the pads of his thumbs over your nipples.

the sensation has you involuntarily gushing around his cock, wet sounds starting to echo around the room and prompting kuroo to lazily stroke his hardening cock again.

“naughty kitten, you want more don’t you?” a devious look takes over kuroo’s features, but he instantly dismisses your presence by turning to oikawa instead, “does she give good head?”

“why don’t you–hah, see for yourself,” oikawa struggles through his words, brows furrowing in pleasure as his hips collide against yours.

kuroo wastes no time, making his way next to your head while his hand keeps pumping at his now fully erect cock. the weight of it falls on your parted lips, running the leaking head over them and coating them with pre-cum.

you’re not given a warning, kuroo’s fingers get a tight hold on your jaw and force it open so he can slide in, the head poking at your inner cheek and making it bulge out in an obscene way.

“there you go, kitten. you are way better when you shut up,” he smirks down at you, thrusting up into your mouth, “all you needed was my fat cock.”

drool leaks out of your mouth but at this point, you don’t care anymore. you are drained, basically a corpse for them to fuck and fill with their semen.

you have a hard time trying to focus your vision on the demons before you, your head throbbing at the lack of energy. but it only gets worse when you feel a pair of hands fumbling around your throat.

“if only you could see how fucking gorgeous you look right now,” oikawa praises you as his hands wrap a collar around your neck, almost moaning at the sight underneath him, “my good girl, do you like your master’s cock?”

the leather fabric tightens around your neck, the leash allowing oikawa to jerk your head up and making kuroo’s cock slide out of your mouth in the process.

“oi! don’t hog her!”

your groggy brain barely registers them arguing over who gets to control you.

“shut the fuck up. i found her first,” oikawa tries to get his point across by lifting your legs over his shoulders and pounding even harder, your whimpers turning louder at the new position. 

“but you’re fucking her cunt! at least give me control over her head!”

oikawa’s too busy thrusting his cock inside your plush walls that he eventually gives in. once the leash falls on kuroo’s hands, he wastes no time and pulls your face towards him, making you gag around his cock.

your muscles contract at the intrusion which only heightens the blissful feeling, transmitting waves of pleasure through his body.

“ah fuck, i can feel her trying to suck my cum out of me. such a cum-thirsty whore.”

what both demons miss, it's the way your face starts to turn purple. the tight grip of the collar plus kuroo’s tugging at the leash preventing the air from reaching your lungs.

with the last bits of energy you've left, you try to rip the collar off of you. your hands desperately claw at the material as your eyes widen in realization of what will come next if you’re unable to free yourself from their grip.

but your actions seem to anger kuroo, who growls and drops the leash only to grab you by your head and shove your face all the way down his length.

you start to choke, his thick girth taking so much space in your mouth and when you try to take a deep breath through your nose, he pushes in even more. coughs erupt from your chest, his pre-cum and your saliva reaching your lungs while dark spots start to cloud your vision. their voices sound far away, numbness taking over your body as you start growing dizzy and a violaceous hue tints the skin of your face at the lack of oxygen.

both demons pay no mind, too busy chasing their ends to notice how you’ve stopped fighting them. their moans echo freely all over the room, the lewd sounds of their cocks abusing your holes bringing a sense of hunger to them.

“shit, baby you feel so good. i’m gonna cum in your sweet, needy cunt and fill you with it m’kay?” oikawa announces, his orgasm rapidly approaching and inciting him to thrust harder, getting lost in the way your walls rub against his twitching cock.

kuroo lets out a low groan as he finally cums in your mouth, pulling out just enough to paint your face with it and smear it all over your lips. he sighs in relief, smiling at the sight of your pretty face covered in his sticky cum. the way it sticks to your eyelashes and drips down your face to your parted lips etching itself on his mind.

he can’t remember the last time he had such an erotic sight. 

but when he notices a lack of movement from you after a minute, he couldn't help but curse out loud. thankfully, it goes unnoticed by oikawa since his moans got louder, his own orgasm sending shivers down his body and causing him to lose focus on his surroundings for a while.

“ngh– fuck,” oikawa spills inside your pussy, his cock throbbing as load after load pumps out of him and fills you to the brim.

his eyes are closed, breaths ragged as he basks in the afterglow of his orgasm. it’s not until he opens them to admire your fucked out face when he finally finds out.

he’s confused for a moment before it dawns on him. he slaps your thigh gently, calling out your name in a futile attempt to get you to answer him back.

“sweetheart, this isn’t funny.”

but as he turns to face kuroo in search of an explanation, one look at him is enough to answer his question. 

“i swear i didn’t mean to!”

a nervous-looking kuroo, fully clothed by now, stands awkwardly by the door. he’s well aware he fucked up—big time.

“fucking hell!” oikawa rakes his fingers through his hair in exasperation, “did i not tell you to control yourself?!”

he can’t help but feel a twinge of sadness since he did grow a liking to you thanks to his nocturn visits. but the sentiment quickly fades away when his eyes fall on your form once again. a pleased smile appears on his handsome face as he takes in the sight of your legs spread wide open, his cum seeping out of your pussy.

“she remembered how much i like this,” he coos to himself, plunging one finger between your folds and smearing the fluids.

he’s so lost on you that he doesn’t notice kuroo disappearing from your room and leaving him behind—not like he cares. his hands reach out to smooth out your hair, traveling down the side of your face and stroking the skin of your cheeks with his long fingers. 

you look so peaceful, so pretty, covered in their fluids, and with the choker still adorning your neck.

the nostalgic feeling returns, tugging at his heart and prompting a gentle smile to take over his lips. with a kiss on your forehead and then one on your lips, oikawa finally bids his goodbyes.

“don’t worry, baby girl. i have a spot in hell saved just for you.”

#yandere oikawa #yandere oikawa x reader #yandere haikyuu x reader #yandere kuroo #tw.snuff #tw.dubcon #tw.noncon #tw.somnophilia

[luminois]

— 𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧;

𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

𝐰: 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭 (𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭), 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 (𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐧𝐢).

𝟒𝟓𝟏𝟑 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬, 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

𝐩.𝐬.: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 ･:*✧ 𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐨’𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫.

the needle poked the pad of your finger, making you squeak as droplets of blood fell on the scarf you’d been sewing, patching it up out of kindness. the wool was now stained with red.

“shit,” you hissed through gritted teeth, throwing the unfinished piece in the corner of the small room before sucking on the bleeding finger.

the curse had slipped from your lips easily, and you’d done nothing to stop it. you’d discovered it made pain more bearable in a way you couldn’t explain, and your heart didn’t feel heavy because of it. sentences that sounded centuries old resonated in your mind, warning you about your teeth falling off upon speaking such unkind words. you chuckled bitterly, letting your head fall back until it touched the wall. how could you have fallen for such childlike threats? the archangels must have been sure you were nothing but a fool, and at the time they’d been right.

you’d believed their lies, listened to them preaching of saving poor innocent souls from an evil bigger than them, an evil that they couldn’t have understood. but humans knew about sin more than you could have, kept in the dark and fed distorted versions of the truth like you had been.

the truth, the real unadulterated truth, was that the world wasn’t as simple as they wanted you to believe. sometimes war was necessary, it was liberation and revolution, and more often than not peace wasn’t enough. sometimes the only way to do good was to use despicable means, and that was because life isn’t fair. they’d taught you who your enemy was without mentioning the infinite amount of shades of grey existing between the light and the dark, showing you an idealized version of the world. now reality had knocked the air out of your lungs and you were left unarmed, gasping on your own.

in the dark of your room, the metallic taste of blood met your tongue and you were reminded of crimson eyes and searing skin. you smiled at the irony of it all. the only one who had been honest with you, who hadn’t lied to smooth out the edges, who had deemed you strong enough to handle the truth, was your supposed enemy.

in a way, hyunjin had ruined your entire existence. you didn’t have a purpose anymore, you were lost and confused and unable to do your job without thinking of how hypocritical it was, to pretend to know what was best for others without having ever experienced pain yourself. he’d shattered the pink glasses perched on your nose and made you see how diverse the world truly was.

most importantly, hyunjin hadn’t left you alone. you hadn’t ever noticed how fucked up it was that the highest sent their angels all alone to wander through a world they barely knew, without any help or guidance, until hyunjin had refused to leave you by yourself. he had held you and dried your tears, hushed you softly and forced himself to tell you about how sometimes life was also bright and full of wonder. you could tell he’d been struggling to find examples, his handsome face contorted by furrowed eyebrows, but you’d believed him anyways. how could you not?

hyunjin had followed you when you’d wanted to close the bakery and lay down in the shade of your room, only a small window letting the sunshine in. your sheets still held his scent, from the way he’d held you until you’d fallen asleep. you had woken up alone, but wrapped in a sweater too big to be your own.

your eyes traveled to the small desk on the opposite side of the room, where the sweater was placed on a chair. you looked at it for a long second and then got up from your bed, swiftly slipping on your shoes before crossing the space in quick strides. the soft material fell on your smaller figure disgracefully, and you adjusted it until it was hiding the cotton shorts you slept in. you made yourself smaller as you stepped out of the building, wrapping your arms around yourself. earth had become too cold now that you’d gotten used to a demon’s heat.

you wandered through the deserted streets without a destination. some shops had started to open up again, but you’d done nothing more than help clean up the streets, so it wasn’t anything you could be proud of. the town still wasn’t close to being considered a welcoming place but you figured things were just going to work out on their own. your services had never really been needed. you wondered if you’d ever had any other role besides providing temporary relief.

loud noises and shouts had just grasped your attention after turning a corner when a young, disheveled woman ran towards you. you recognized her instantly as the gentle young woman who had helped you revive the unkept communal garden weeks prior. her cheeks were crossed by tears, and the shirt she was wearing had been teared up and was now pathetically hanging off of her figure. she took your hands in a bruising grip, and the panic you saw in her eyes made you tremble.

her voice was broken by sobs and fear, but you managed to make out a sentence between her confused mumbling. “he’s going to kill him, you have to do something!”

“it’s okay, you’re okay,” you said, putting aside your confusion to try and calm the poor woman down. “breathe with me, please.”

she gulped and nodded feverishly, her ragged breaths slowing down as she followed yours, her eyes locked on you as if you were her last lifeline. when she was finally able to talk without difficulty, you asked her to explain what had happened.

“i was walking home, the sun was still out so i thought it was safe, but then a man,” she stammered out, having to take a deep breath before continuing. “he grabbed me and i screamed but he put his hand over my mouth and tried to…”

a sob made her voice break and you hushed her gently, rubbing your hands with hers comfortingly. her next words made goosebumps arise on your skin.

“if it hadn’t been for that boy… oh, i don’t know what could’ve happened.”

“a boy?” you asked.

the woman nodded, her eyes widening with restlessness. “yes! people say they’ve seen you two together, that’s why i came searching for you. he saved me, but now i think he’s going to kill that man, you have to do something!”

she pulled at your hands and repeated her words while you tried to take a decision. could letting that monster die mean that justice would’ve been made? it wasn’t hyunjin’s place to be the judge of his actions, but what if he was none other than the executioner chosen by the highest? your internal conflict was reflected in the furrow of your eyebrows. what was right, and what wasn’t? mere days prior you would’ve answered that question without hesitation, but now things were different. you were different.

at last, you nodded wordlessly and let the woman guide you towards the rowdy noises of the fight. a small crowd had gathered, people shouting and enjoying the display of violence, as if it were a show made purposefully for their entertainment. you had to jostle your way to the front of the circle, elbowing people left and right until you had a clear view.

hyunjin sat on the man’s midriff, keeping him down with his body weight and a hand around his neck. he was holding his throat so tight his knuckles had turned white and the man’s lips were starting to become blue. his other hand was balled in a fist, relentlessly hitting the man’s already destroyed face. his nose was broken and he was bleeding from multiple spots, his blood staining hyunjin’s hands and the concrete below them.

that was hyunjin’s truest form. a demon with his black hair falling over his eyes and sticking to his nape, sweat running down the sides of his face and neck as he bit his lips and breathed hard through his nose from the exertion. his eyes burned with wrath and his inked arms displayed all of his strength. once again, you weren’t scared of him even if you knew you should have been.

he wasn’t taking out the violence nested inside of him on an innocent victim. he was punishing someone that was more monstrous and revolting that hyunjin himself could’ve ever been, and you weren’t sure about wanting to stop him. but a murder wasn’t something you could just walk away from. the people witnessing the scene weren’t going to call the police over an aggression, but if someone died something would have to be done, and you found yourself terrified at the idea of losing hyunjin in such a way. he would have gone back to hell to escape and you weren’t ready to be left alone, without him.

hands tried to hold you back but you pushed them away and stepped inside the circle, calling hyunjin’s name. his fist stopped midair and he turned to look at you, his shoulders raising and dropping as he regained his breath. “angel?”

his eyes followed as you got close to him and grabbed his arm resolutely, making his grip around the man’s throat loosen up. you didn’t seem scared like he thought, but you’d always been full of surprises. he let himself be pulled on his feet, and a smirk curved his lips when you stepped on the unconscious man’s genitals hard enough to make him wail in pain, before leading hyunjin away from the crowd.

——— ･:*✧ ———

hyunjin’s place was anonymous, nothing could suggest that there was someone living in it, except for the bed. you observed the sheets in disarray and then looked up to the headboard. the dark wood was chipped, little pieces of it had come off and the wall behind it was worn out, as if the headboard had hit it repeatedly until the paint had started to break. you looked back at hyunjin as he closed the door behind him and the confused look on your face made him chuckle. he raised his eyebrows and you felt your cheeks starting to burn, so you turned away to not let him see. sex, of course.

“i know you’re blushing, angel, no need to hide,” hyunjin said, walking closer until you felt his breath hit your neck. “you look pretty when you’re shy.”

you sucked in a breath as you felt the ghost of his hands on your hips, before he moved to the side and went to sit on his bed. he groaned as he did so and you remembered the task at hand.

“i need towels, and painkillers.”

“there’s towels in the bathroom and i don’t fucking need painkillers, i’m a demon.”

“you’re human right now,” you reminded him as you opened the door to the small bathroom.

“humans are stupid and weak, their bodies are useless,” you heard him say as you ran a couple towels under the sink. “well, except for one thing.”

you turned the water off and walked back to him, gasping as hyunjin took off his shirt. the dark material had hid it well, but now you could clearly see the blood spilling from his ribs.

“is that a fucking stab wound?!” you shouted as you dropped the towels on the bed and kneeled in front of him to look at the injury.

“he barely scratched me, that’s just- wait,” he said, his smile getting bigger as he realized what you’d said. “did you just say fucking?”

you ignored hyunjin’s words and pressed a towel over the injury to stop the bleeding, until he grabbed your chin and made you look at him.

“it’s just a cut, angel, i moved away before he could seriously hurt me or that woman,” he reassured you, stroking your cheek with his thumb. you sighed in relief and leaned into his touch, your skin getting stained by the blood on his hands, unaware of the turmoil building in hyunjin’s chest.

you, his pretty angel kneeling between his legs, caring for his injuries and saying the bad words you’d picked up from him after kicking a man in the balls. forgotten feelings were filling his stomach and making his cold heart beat faster than anything else could, faster than any random fuck or any fist fight. hyunjin had always known you were different, the weirdest angel he’d ever met, and it made you unbelievably beautiful in his eyes. you made him want to be gentle, to make you happy, and it made him want to ruin what was left of your angelic innocence, too. but he could never hurt you, so, for the first time in his centenarian existence, he was going to be soft, just for you.

“is this my sweater?” he asked, running his finger along its neckline.

you nodded, picking up a towel to clean your bloodstained cheek before doing the same with his hands. “you left it at my place.”

“it looks better on you,” hyunjin said, smiling as he saw you bite back a smile of your own.

once his hands were as clean as you could manage and the cut on his ribs had stopped bleeding, you searched for other wounds. the only one you could see was the little cut on his nose bridge, and you figured the man had gotten in a punch before getting his face destroyed. you reached up to clean it but hyunjin’s hands were on your waist before you could do anything.

“get up from the floor, angel,” he said. his voice was almost a whisper as he lifted you up without needing your help.

you sat on his lap with your legs on either side of him, the closeness making your head spin. you watched your hand tremble as you moved his hair away from his face, hyunjin’s hands caressing your back. he now had to look up at you and he felt all of his smugness wash away, his lips parted as he took in every small detail. perfect, from the last hair on your precious head to the tips of your toes. how could you be so perfect for him?

you felt shy under his gaze, the softness in his eyes unknown to you both. “hyunjin?”

“i want to kiss you so bad,” he said. his voice was low and you shivered, your hands tightening where they were placed on his shoulders while his traveled up your back until he was holding the back of your head, fingers carded through your hair. “do you want me to, angel?”

you did, and you didn’t need to think about it. this wasn’t a demon trying to corrupt an angel. it was you and hyunjin, uncaring of the laws of the universe saying you should hate each other, in love. because you could feel it, the earth-shattering love growing between you, could’ve even touched it had you been in your angelic form. the only physical manifestation of it you had right there was your gasping heart and the emotion in hyunjin’s eyes, and it was enough.

hyunjin’s lips swallowed your inexperienced ones, pulling whimpers from you as he bit and licked and overwhelmed you with new sensations. his hands roamed down your body and pulled you impossibly closer. he sucked harshly on your bottom lip and then left a trail of wet kissed down your neck as you gasped for hair, hugging his neck tightly. he bit and sucked on the sensitive skin, and you felt his smirk when he found a spot that made you yelp. angry red now adorned your throat, and the demon looked at his masterpiece with satisfaction before kissing you again.

his hands disappeared under your sweater and hyunjin leaned back to look at you with a glint in his red irises. “what were you thinking when you left your house like this, angel?”

your cheeks burned red as you remembered the cotton shorts you’d been wearing the entire time. they were a flimsy, baby blue material, barely covering your bum while you slept, and the same went for the matching top you were sporting as well. one of your hands flew to cover your mouth as hyunjin’s slender fingers reached your left nipple, toying with the hardened bud while his eyes never left your face. he grabbed your wrist and uncovered your mouth, drinking in your flustered expression. under you, the tent in his pants was now poking your thigh unashamedly.

“were you thinking of me, mmh? going out half naked and covering up with my sweater, such a bad girl.”

hyunjin grabbed the hem of the sweater to pull it off and you swiftly raised your arms to help him, impatient to have his lips back on yours. addictive was one word to describe the way he kissed you, and suddenly you wanted to find out what else he could do to make you feel this way. the fastest way to do so was pushing his buttons, and you’d spent enough time around him to know just what to say.

the sweater hit the floor and you cupped hyunjin’s face. “i’m not a bad girl, i’m your little angel.”

his hands on your thighs slipped under your shorts to grab your butt cheeks, hard. “you are?”

he raised a challenging eyebrow at you before leaning in and mouthing at your covered breasts. you moaned as he sucked on it and then moved up, kissing your collarbones while moving your top’s strap down your shoulder.

“i am,” you stuttered out, “i thought of you so much these days, i even t-touched myself while thinking about you, hyunnie.”

you felt him smile against your skin and come up to kiss you properly, now hugging your waist. you melted at the way his tongue danced with yours, a weight lifted from your shoulders. you’d sinned because of him and you didn’t regret it, knowing he liked it made you feel proud.

“did you like it, angel? did it make you feel good?”

“i don’t know,” you admitted. “it felt a little good but… weird? i don’t think i did it properly.”

hyunjin laughed, and the burning feeling he was laughing at you had your cheeks going red in embarrassment. “my pretty girl can’t even touch herself properly, mmh? that’s alright, i’m gonna teach you how to do it.”

you squealed as he picked you up and let you fall on the soft mattress, your hair spread around you like a halo. his shirtless form hovered over you like a vision as he took off your shorts and pried your shaking legs open. he smirked at the wet patch on your panties before subtly dragging his knuckles over it, making you gasp and tremble.

“look at you, so wet and sensitive for me already.”

hyunjin laid next to you on his side, propped up on his elbow so he could see all of you. you looked up at him with wide eyes and his smile turned soft. “give me your hand, angel.”

he took your right hand in his and led it down your body, from your useless top to your bare stomach to where you needed it the most. you came in contact with the damp spot on your panties and pouted at the uncomfortable feeling, raising your hips to kick them off and they joined the little pile of clothes gathered on the floor.

“close your eyes,” hyunjin said, guiding your hand between your legs, “and think about me.”

you complied, and the first touch made you gasp. your free hand flied to grasp any part of hyunjin you could reach, ending up scratching at his chest as images of him flooded your mind. he whispered instructions in your ear, and a new wave of arousal gushed out of you as he pressed your middle finger on a hard nub. you screamed, your toes curling up at the pleasure.

“feels good, mmh?” he said, making you draw circles around that heavenly spot. you nodded, unable to think straight, but it wasn’t enough. “words, baby.”

“it f-feels good.”

“that’s where you wanna touch when you’re by yourself, but you’re with me right now.”

you opened your eyes and looked up at him, confused by his words. hyunjin chuckled and kissed your temple, endeared, and brought your hand lower. the burning sting of both yours and hyunjin’s fingers pushing into you made you cry out and hide your face in his neck. he hushed you softly, whispering sweet nothings in your ear and leaving pecks on your clammy forehead, letting you get used to the stretch.

“it hurts,” you whined, tears threatening to slide down your cherub cheeks.

“i know, angel, but it’s going to hurt even more later if we don’t do this now,” he reassured you. “be my good girl and tell me when it gets better.”

a minute passed until you finally started to relax, and from then on it felt incredible. countless of your moans and whines, muffled against hyunjin’s skin, filled the room as he added a finger and then another one. your tears started to fall when you found that first spot again, pressing against it while hyunjin stretched you open. it felt like your pleasure was building up, your sounds progressively getting louder as you trashed around on the mattress, and then it was over.

hyunjin’s long fingers slipped out and he grabbed your wrist to keep your hand away. his lips drowned your complaints as he hugged you close, your bodies sweaty and burning up against each other.

“why?” you whined, letting your damp cheek rest against this chest. hyunjin’s heart was beating fast and strong, his big hands stroking your back reassuringly.

“i can give you something better, angel,” he said, sitting up before helping you out of your top.

“better than that?” you asked in disbelief, now laying completely naked in the middle of the bed under hyunjin’s hungry gaze. he laughed at you again and your thighs rubbed against each other, instinctively trying to create some friction.

“you have no idea how good i can make you feel, that’s not even half of it, baby.”

you watched mesmerized as hyunjin took off his pants, the clinking of his belt as it fell on the floor making you shudder. every time you saw him you thought he couldn’t get more gorgeous, and he proved you wrong every time. your half-lidded eyes got drunk off how perfect the demon looked standing there, arrogant in the way he touched himself, a moving work of art. his gaze licked down your own body as if it were an actual touch, and you smiled at how beautiful it made you feel.

your legs went willingly when hyunjin’s hands grabbed your thighs gently and made a space for himself between them, but they started to shake when you felt him prod at your core. his fingers had hurt before, you were afraid of the pain you were about to experience.

“angel, look at me,” hyunjin said, smiling softly at the way you were holding your hands close to you in an attempt to reassure yourself. he leaned down to kiss your lips, your noses bumping together and making you giggle. “don’t be scared, it passes quickly and then it feels good.”

“really?”

“you know i don’t lie to you.”

you felt the pain as he was kissing you again, swallowing your cries and pecking away your tears. hyunjin waited for you to relax under him, something he’d never done for anybody else, and held you close as you left marks on his back.

“breathe, baby,” he said, caressing down your sides. “tell me when you’re ready.”

true to hyunjin’s words, it didn’t take long for the tension and hurt to melt away, your flesh going lax as you sighed in relief. he settled deeply inside of you, the sting from the stretch still present but you found it strangely pleasurable, and you hugged his neck before whispering. “you can move.”

“that’s my good girl.”

the demon’s eyes sparkled red and then he set a pace that was brutal, eliciting screams and noises you’d never heard yourself make before, hyunjin’s own moans quickly joining yours. your fingers got tangled in his hair, now wet with the same sweat that was falling on your skin in droplets, his skin absolutely searing.

you wrapped your legs around his waist and your eyes rolled in the back of your head when he changed the angle, finding just the right spot. a string of words barely resembling hyunjin’s name left your throat as he wrapped an hand around it, pressing just enough to make you lightheaded.

“you’re perfect, angel,” he said, his voice low and breathy as he panted. he took your hand in his and brought it to your stomach. “you’re doing so well, you did this, my good girl. right here, feel how well you’re taking me.”

you looked down between the two of you, still gasping for air when you felt it, him moving under your skin, and something loosened. a shudder washed over you and your hands tightened around hyunjin’s neck, both keeping him close and pushing him away as you screamed.

hyunjin only slowed down for a minute, barely letting you catch your breath before picking up the pace again. you whined as the feeling got so intense it started to hurt but he only hushed you down, singing your praises and sweetly torturing you at the same time. you had to endure the same high times and times again before hyunjin started to lose his rhythm, and then you felt warmth flooding you and his body fell on you, covering you completely as his muscles trembled violently.

kisses smothered your wet cheeks, when did you start to cry again? your mind was hazy with exhaustion and still high on the most intense and sublime sensations you’d ever experienced. you noticed how dark the room had gotten and wondered just how much time had passed, but you didn’t really care. every bone in your body ached and hyunjin was still inside of you, contributing to the uncomfortable feeling of laying on a bed dirty with your own blood and sweat. but that was the best place on earth, where the heavy smell of sex met the heavenly scent of your lover.

you stroked hyunjin’s dark hair and he turned to look at you, eyes full of wonder. “how were you the best?”

“the best?” you repeated dumbfounded, your voice scratchy from all the screaming. “you’ve been with people far more used to it than me, i’m sure of it, hyunnie. it’s impossible i did better than them.”

“none of them lives up to you, i’m ruined for everyone else now.”

“you’re ruined?” you said, “what am i, then?”

hyunjin smiled. “you’re my little angel.”

do you want to read more?

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#stray kids #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #skz #stray kids hyunjin #skz hyunjin #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids x y/n #stray kids headcanons #stray kids reactions #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #stray kids angst #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x you #hyunjin reactions #hyunjin headcanons #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin smut #hyunjin angst #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz smut #skz fluff

[uhgood-dooghu]

Dichotomy [M]

Author uhgood-dooghu

Pairing Underground Fighter!Namjoon x Reader

Summary He doesn’t want this life. But it’s the hand he’s been dealt. He is falling, but you are his safety net.

Genre Smut, angst, fluff, marriage!au, very loosely inspired by the film Southpaw, porn with a splash of plot

Warnings Unprotected marital sex, nipple play, nipple orgasm, oral (male and brief female), consensual possessiveness, Namjoon has tattoos, mentions of violence, lots of love, lots of angst, some cracky fluff if you squint, they’re very in love, they have a kid, they’re dealing with a lot of shit

Word Count 4.1k

a/n Banner by @xjoonchildx​ who singlehandedly gave me more confidence in my writing in 10 minutes than anyone has given me in like...10 years (so yeah, not to be dramatic but I kind of love you 🙈)

Dichotomy . . Trouvaille . . Redemancy

Cross-posted to AO3

“You still up for me, tiger?”

From his spot reclined against the pillows, Namjoon cocks his head, tired eyes narrowing into a smirk when he finds you leaning against the closet door frame. Sky blue silk hangs loosely off your shoulder, revealing the sheer bodysuit gracing your curves. You quirk an eyebrow and grin as your husband’s darkened eyes roam your body and linger on the deep v between your breasts, cream tulle contoured seamlessly to your hardened nipples. With a lick of his lips, he folds his arms behind his head.

“I don’t know, baby. Why don’t you come find out?”

His smirk never wavers as you push off the frame and saunter towards him, a quick shrug pooling your robe around your elbows.

You pause at the edge of the bed to admire the sight of him laid out in nothing but his ink and black boxer-briefs. Unable to resist, your eyes wander, tracing the swell of his biceps, the cut of his chest, the sharp lines of his hips, before you drop your robe to the floor. Namjoon’s lips nearly twitch into a snarl when you throw a leg over his lap, sitting back on his taut thighs with a sigh.

Your hands run over his chiseled torso to feel the uneven flesh beneath your fingertips. Years of training, of fights both won and lost, of facing opponents with a lust for blood, have hardened him, left a mosaic of scars in their wake to mark and maim the bronze canvas. He hides them behind a mural of art. Blots out the ever-present reminders of the choices he’s made in a storm of black and grey.

He is ashamed.

But to you, he is beautiful.

His hands find your thighs, the cool metal of his wedding band digging into your skin as you bend and press your lips to a line of raised flesh blanketed by the curves of a whale below his collarbone. You kiss the length of the scar, his body a map you’ve long since memorized. When you flick over his nipples, he hums, and you trail the column of his throat with your nose before nipping the underside of his jaw.

He is tense beneath your lips, but he always is, carrying his burdens on broken bones.

Cupping his face, you capture his lips with yours, tongues falling into a seamless dance as his hands begin to wander. They slip to your ass, palming the flesh, and you break away with a hum as he rocks you against his semi-hard cock.

“You feeling ok?” Your eyes lock on the deep cut slowly healing on his brow bone. A parting gift from his most recent opponent.

The sight isn’t foreign, but you always ask.

Leaning in, he drags his lips over your pulse. “Never better.”

With a click of your tongue, you tug him back and frown. He grunts in displeasure, but allows you to thumb over the faded bruise on his cheekbone and the fresh scar on his lip, his eyes following yours as they take in his slightly crooked nose and sunken dark circles.

He’s not ok, a fact you both know. He hasn’t slept much since his last match, a brutal victory against a vengeful competitor. That night, you had nursed his wounds with steady hands, whispered words of reassurance into his ear, stripped his emotions bare until he was sobbing into your chest.

He’s not a monster. He’s not evil. He’s just surviving. But barely. And that’s why you always ask.

“I’ll be alright, baby,” he mutters, gripping your wrist and gently pulling it from his face. He laces your fingers together and kisses the back of your hand softly. “Don’t worry about me.”

Your lips twist into a thin smile. “I always worry about you.”

For a moment, his eyes flood with sadness.

They flood with his hatred of the underground. His weariness of breaking himself and others to provide for you and your son sleeping soundly in the next room. His ache to do something–anything–else that will put an end to the dead-eyed reflection he sees in the mirror.

But the underground is lawless, and you know he doesn’t have a choice. Debts, loyalties, threats… all cruel dictators of the life Namjoon’s been forced to lead. And lead it he will, as long as you are living and breathing beside him. As long as you are there to rebuild him when he crumbles.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, and you shake your head, smoothing out the lines between his eyebrows.

“No,” you murmur, fingertips tracing his face. “It’s just my job as your wife.”

A wry smile twists on his lips, one you quickly seek to remove with several soft pecks to the flesh.

“And as your wife,” you muse between kisses, voice turning playful, “I wanna see what damage you can do.”

His smirk returns with full force, and he resumes his exploration of your ass. “Oh yeah?”

Arms looping over his shoulders, you catch your tongue between your teeth. “Mhmm, think you can handle me, big guy?”

“What, you think I can’t go a couple rounds with you?”

With a matching smirk, you lean forward, rocking against his growing erection as you slant your lips to his.

“I think you can try,” you breathe.

He growls deep in his throat before reaching up and threading his fingers in your hair, yanking your head back to expose your neck. Your gasp melts into a moan as he marks his way across your skin, flesh turning crimson in his wake. When he closes his lips over your most sensitive spot, just below your pulse, you shudder.

In your years with Namjoon, you’ve discovered the bridging dichotomy between the fighter and the man you love. It’s in the way he claims you, paints you into a galaxy with his teeth and lips, etches his signature into your skin, as if bruising you with his love will erase the bruises he’s left in the ring.

You wear each one proudly, a constant reminder of the choice you made to call him yours.

“Joon,” you gasp, eyelids fluttering.

“Yeah, baby?” He nibbles at your collarbone before laving it with his tongue.

You don’t reply, instead shifting so your barely covered clit presses directly onto his cock, thick and defined beneath soft fabric. A small rut of your hips sparks an inferno in your veins, vocalized through a quivering whimper. His chuckles melt into groans as you grind against him, and he ducks to pull a nipple between his lips.

The sensation shudders through your bones, arousal flooding your cunt when he swirls his tongue over your bud through the barely-there fabric. A moment later, he has your bodysuit pooled at your waist and pauses to hiss a curse at the sight.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he whispers, chest heaving slightly, before diving back in.

“Baby.” You are clutching the nape of his neck, shivering helplessly as he traces the pebbled skin in relentless circles, teeth coming out to tug and release over and over until your head spins. A hand leaves your ass, and you feel his fingers pinching and twisting, palm cupping your breast with a tantalizing pressure.

He works you up, teases you breathless, pools the slickness soaking your body suit with each passing minute, and the pleasure is relentless. A constant vibration pulsing between your legs, through your fingers, down to your toes, rendering you a shuddering, whimpering mess in arms that flex to hold you upright.

Through the delirium, you realize he will have you falling apart just like this.

He confirms this when he purses his lips over your swollen bud, sucking with the right amount of force to have you riding that edge with a wanton moan. The sensation crescendos as he switches rapidly between your nipples, kissing and nibbling until it becomes too much, too fast, and you writhe above him.

“Oh fuck! Namjoon, I–oh shit shit shit, I’m gonna come,” you wail, and he growls against your chest.

Stomach clenching, hips rocking, hands vice-like around his bulging biceps, you surrender to your climax, babbling incoherently as it shudders through your body in pulsing waves.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” you whimper, aftershocks drumming up your bones, leaving you winded and feverish.

Namjoon pulls away with a triumphant grin, eyes locked on where your thighs meet. “You made a mess, baby,” he purrs, and you follow his gaze to see your arousal has leaked through the fabric of your bodysuit and hopelessly stained the outline of his cock.

Another whimper leaves you as he growls, “I fucking love your tits,” punctuating the statement with a kiss to each nipple.

Still panting, you reach down and snap the waistband of his Calvins. “Off. Now.”

Ignoring the amusement in his eye, you rise to your knees so he can slide them off, not even bothering to hide the needy breath that slips out when his cock springs free, slapping heavily against his stomach.

As soon as his underwear hits the floor, you shift between his legs to press wet kisses around his navel.

On nights after a winning match, Namjoon often takes his adrenaline home, releasing it in a tight grip of your hair and deep thrusts down your throat. After a loss, he lets you take the lead, drowning in the warmth of your tongue, cunt, whatever you want to give him, as long as he can cum.

But on nights like tonight, between matches, in the wake of training, he likes to be teased. Likes you to drag out his pleasure, because it reminds him he is still alive. Still capable of feeling something good. Still worthy of something good, even with a line of broken bodies trailing his own battered soul.

He’s told you as much in hushed words breathed into the darkness of your bedroom when he cannot sleep.

And, god, do you want to remind him he is worthy.

Your tongue dips into the curves of his abs, hands caressing the tops of his thighs as you trace over the v of his hips. He brushes your hair back and you catch his eye, heart blooming at the unfiltered desire pouring from his parted lips in bated breaths.

You don’t look away as you explore him with your mouth, nibbling a mark into his hipbone. His gaze is heavy, searing straight to your core, as you wrap your hand around him, swiping his precum off the tip with your thumb. It smears down his cock with each drawn out pump of your fist, and he grunts when you lick a slow stripe up the prominent vein framing the underside.

“Y/n…” His voice strains in his throat, fingers threading firmly in your hair, but you refuse to take him fully, instead running your tongue over every inch of his length, kissing from the base to the tip before sucking firmly on the head.

Swirling over the sensitive flesh, you dip lower, only to pull back immediately, teasing him with the warmth you know he craves but refuses to take. He needs the chase, and you’re all too willing to provide.

When you finally grant him a brief thrust into your throat, he moans with a buck of his hips, stuttering out pleas and words of praise, his fingers shaky against your cheek.

“Fuck, y/n, baby,” he pants, leg jerking when you swirl your tongue around his balls, drawing one into your mouth.

You drink in the way his chest rises and falls, flush visible even under his tan and tattoos, nipples pebbled, abs flexing with each labored breath. You love when he loses himself. When he allows the world to fade to black, until all he can feel, see, and breathe is you.

When he lets you in to gather the pieces of himself he’s chipped away.

You smile when he whimpers, thighs quivering around your shoulders, and pull back.

“What?” He groans, bumping his head against the headboard as you thumb over his slit.

With a kiss to his pelvis, you sigh. “You sound so pretty when you’re needy.”

Gently twisting your hair into a ponytail, he guides you up and drags your lower lip through his teeth. “I’m always needy for you.”

A contented hum fills the space between you as he moves you back into his lap. “I like that.” Hand still wrapped loosely around his cock, you give him another agonizingly slow stroke.

“Mmm, I know you do.” Namjoon palms over your ass and thighs, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your bodysuit. “Get naked, please?”

You tilt your head back, neck going limp as you slump forward and kiss his lips. “Mkay.”

Dropping his cock against his abs, you rise to stand over him on the mattress and spin around under his dark gaze. He gets a front row seat to the wetness stringing from your nether-lips, glistening as it is revealed in the muted lamp lighting. His groan makes you giggle, and you have barely stepped out of the bodysuit before he shifts.

You feel his tongue latch onto your cunt with a delayed jolt of pleasure, nearly falling forward as you gasp. His strong arms hold you still, lips descending to close around your clit, suckling the bud, and your knees tremble.

“J-j-joon, w-what–” you stutter, breaking off with a whine and a strained rock of your hips.

His grunt is muffled against your wetness, tongue dipping into your entrance. “Can’t help myself.” He slurps obscenely, and you blush with an involuntary clench. The motion sends another drop of arousal onto Namjoon’s tongue, and he moans, lapping it up, but you need more.

“Joon,” you beg and tap urgently at his hands. “Namjoon, baby. Fuck me. Please, I need you to fuck me.”

Your wanton plea sees you twirled around and jerked roughly over his cock. He presses the tip between your folds to tease your entrance and drag over your slippery clit in tight circles.

“How do you want it,” he whispers.

Gripping his shoulders, you gasp when he dips an inch into your cunt. “Like this,” you breathe, desperate to trap him in your warmth.

The stretch is sinful, delicious and wet, your soft walls squeezing and fluttering around him as he lowers you onto his cock. When you press your ass to his thighs, he groans, head falling back, and you snag the opportunity to kiss at his Adam’s Apple, enjoying the vibrations of his voice beneath your lips.

“Shit, y/n, you’ll be the death of me.”

You exhale a breathy laugh and rock back only to snap forward, much to his enjoyment.

“Better me than anyone else.”

You let him take the lead, let him drag you up by your hips until he nearly slips out, then slam you back down, beginning a damning rhythm that shocks your spine with pleasure. The mattress squeaks softly beneath your knees, the air between your bodies steamy and thick. Only the knowledge of two sets of doors and your son’s deep slumber allows you to vocalize your need for your husband with reckless abandon.

“Oh, right there, Joon, right there,” you whine, when he adjusts the angle to pound directly up into your most sensitive bundle of nerves. His blunt head kisses your cervix with each drop.

“Yeah? That feel good?” He growls, running his lips over the column of your throat, and you whimper an affirmative.

“S-so so good, mmmm.” Sinking onto his pelvis, you circle your hips, grinding out a fresh wave of arousal that soaks the base of his cock with an arch to your back. Your cunt clenches around him, and his fingers tighten over your thighs, face buried in your neck.

“F-uck,” he heaves, “you’re unbelievable.” Beads of sweat trail his temples, and he pulls back to lock eyes with you, chocolate irises heavy with something deeper than lust.

“I don’t deserve you.”

His words send a sharp pang to your heart, bringing you to a halt.

You let the pleasure in your veins simmer to a dull throb as you steady your pulse, shaking your head with a determined glint in your gaze. Encased fully in your cunt, his cock throbs against your walls, and you quiver at the sensation.

Wrapping an arm his shoulders, you press your palm over his racing heart, feeling it skip a beat when you squeeze around him.

“You feel that,” you ask, breathless, clenching again, and he moans brokenly. “You fill me up so well, baby. So perfectly. I was made for you.”

You drag yourself up and down, grinding your clit against the dark hairs on his pelvis. Your own breath hitches, forehead falling against his, chasing the twinges of pleasure with tiny ruts of your hips.

“You deserve me, Namjoon. You deserve the whole world.”

His eyes flutter shut, jaw clenching, and you know he doesn’t believe you. But you’ll keep telling him every day, every minute, until he does.

For now, though, you cup his face and draw him in, kissing him with as much love and devotion as you can pour into his lungs.

“I love you.” Another press of your lips. “I need you.” A breathless tangle of tongues. “Make me come. Please.”

You barely register the change in position before he is hovering above you, hooking your legs over his shoulders and entering you again with a single, powerful thrust.

“Oh–“ You nearly choke, gripping his wrist where his fingers wrap around your calf. “Oh fuck.”

He reaches deep within you, filling a gap in your heart that aches without him. As his cock drags against your most sensitive spots, tears pool in your eyes from the pleasure, but it’s the knowledge that only he can unravel you, break you apart and piece you back together–just as you do for him–that has you gasping out his name.

He was made for you.

“I love you so fucking much,” he growls, groping your breast. “You’re fucking perfect.” His voice shakes with exertion, fierce eyes boring into your glazed ones, possessive and utterly consumed with you.

“Mine.”

Your eyes roll back, and you nod helplessly, the pressure reaching a peak as you beg him to take you. Moans escalating, your fingers grapple for purchase, clawing at his biceps, his shoulders, anything you can reach. Your head rocks back and forth against the pillow as you ride along the precipice of ecstasy, tears spilling as you chase after the final push.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” you cry, and he grunts, rearing back to slip his hand between your bodies.

The presence of his thumb on your clit sends you careening into your orgasm, cunt pulsing around him wildly, your entire body vibrating, writhing under his weight as you sob out for him, barely registering the groans of praise he showers over you.

It seems to go for an eternity, wave after wave rolling through you, leaving you heavy-limbed and dizzy, a buzz settling in your eardrums.

A moment passes, and through your daze, you hear his voice, low and heavy, against your lips.

“I’m not finished with you, baby.”

You’ve barely caught your breath before he is flipping you over, manhandling your limp form with an ease that sends a leftover wash of warmth through you. Falling against the sheets, you stretch your arms over your head and let gravity arch your back.

He presses into the base of your spine, smoothing soft circles into your skin, before asking, “You good?”

You flinch when he grazes his cock over your folds, still sensitive and swollen, but nod, ready and willing. “Take what you want, baby.” Finding his hand, you intertwine your fingers. “I’m yours.”

It’s hard to think after that.

The slapping of skin on skin mingled with breathy whimpers and throaty groans grounds you as you surrender to Namjoon’s hold, bending to his strength. He chases his high with an iron grip on your thighs, ensuring a mosaic of bruises for the morning, and you know he won’t last much longer.

“Gonna come,” he grits out, hauling your ass higher, readjusting to slam you back onto his cock. “Fuck. You ready for me?”

“Mmmm, yeah, fill me up,” you moan, voice pitching as you cling to the sheets, reveling in the oversensitivity.

His hand leaves your hip to travel up your spine, weaving and fisting through your locks, pushing your face further into the mattress as his body bows over you, hips losing their rhythm. His breaths are ragged, grunts deep and feral in your ear, and you reach back to clutch at his thigh.

“Come for me, baby,” you pant, swirling your hips as he grinds into you, and then he is releasing with a choked groan, his warmth flooding you so deliciously that you sigh softly.

Chests rising and falling in tandem, you hold each other as the lust settles into a thrum of contentment.

“You think Wooyoung woke up?” The question is a whisper against your skin.

“No,” you huff, eyes closed heavily. “You can’t wake him up with the fire alarm.”

Namjoon’s laugh vibrates against your spine, and you smile. You feel his fingers detangle from you hair, and a kiss is pressed into the space between your shoulder blades as he slips his softening cock out, allowing you to roll to the side and stretch your legs. A drop of his cum trails the inside of your thigh, and you nudge his leg with your foot.

“Clean me up,” you chide.

He chuckles on his way to the bathroom, returning with a damp cloth that he runs over your body, rough hands a stark contrast to the gentleness of his touch. When he’s done, he passes it to you, letting you pull him in for a kiss.

“Thanks, baby.” The cloth finds the hamper as you go to pee, and stepping back into the bedroom, you find Namjoon already dozing off beneath the covers, one arm hooked behind his head.

You pause by the bedside with a smirk. “Wore you out, did I?”

He smiles, eyes still closed, and you climb in next to him, pecking his dimple before nuzzling into his side. His free arm wraps around you tightly, as you rest your cheek on his chest. “You’re my strongest opponent,” he mutters into your hair, making you laugh.

You settle into silence, but your fingers think for themselves, absentmindedly tracing over the intricately detailed moon inked across his ribs. Textured scar flesh hidden beneath swirls of black and grey bring back memories of cage fights you no longer attend, of nights spent beside dingy hospital beds yelling at your husband for pushing too far, of each and every time your son has run into your arms, crying and asking why his daddy looks like that.

It boils your blood to know there’s nothing you can do. You are powerless, unable to protect Namjoon from the world that claims him, unable to protect your son from the reality that ages him beyond his five years. Unable to protect yourself from the fear that, one day, Namjoon might not come home.

He feels you tense and drums his fingertips over your waist. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing…” A beat of silence passes, and Namjoon’s thumb presses into your hipbone with a little more force. “…just…“ Rising on your elbow, you reach up to brush over the cut above his eye. “…wishing some things were different.”

He remains expressionless, but you can see through the mask. Can see the guilt, frustration, and anger accumulated behind a fragile wall of self-preservation. Years of relentless searching allowed you to find the fracture, poking and prodding until it shattered for only your eyes to see. In its wake you found him broken and alone, consumed by the self-hatred and shame suffocating him at every turn.

You pulled him out of the rubble, gave him a light to follow, a reason to fight his way out of the ring. You stood by him, gave him everything he never thought he deserved, gathered the pieces of his soul he ripped away himself. You stitched him back together, wove your love into the seams, made him smile for the first time since his long lost childhood.

You found the boy beneath the man, and you want to give him the world.

You wish some things were different. But not him.

“Do you regret it? Marrying me?”

He knows the answer, and you know why he asks.

You saved me from myself.

“Never.”

© uhgood-dooghu/moodievitamine, written August 2020. Please do not copy, repost, or translate!

#kim namjoon #namjoon #bts #bts fanfic #namjoon fanfic #bts rm #bts smut #namjoon smut #namjoon angst #rm angst #rm smut #bts au #bts fanfiction #namjoon x reader #rm x reader #bts angst #namjoon scenarios #kim namjoon au #mine #knj

[lunarliza]

JJ Maybank Must Die | Chapter 1: Popsicles

fuckboy!JJ x Reader 

series masterlist

JJ Maybank is the island’s most infamous fuckboy- not that you ever cared. But when a group of tourist girls come to your surf shop crying to you about him, you agree to help them plot revenge. Sabotage is all fun and games, until you find that the playboy you were sworn to ruin happens to be falling head over heels for you.

Yes, this is based on John Tucker Must Die lol

note: so this is my second JJ fic! I’m so excited for ya’ll to read it. it’ll be more light-hearted and shorter than DLS :) 

“Come on... come on! This one right here let’s go!” you yelped. The crowd behind you was practically chattering on their fingernails. 

The seven year old boy in the water paddled as hard as his lanky arms could take him towards the daunting wave. 

“Now Gavin now! Stand up!” you shrieked as the boy hurriedly went through your instructed steps, tucking his knee, and thrusting upwards as the wave got close. Then, before he even realized, he glided rigidly along the wave as the board carried him across the water. 

“Hooray! Awesome job Gavin!” The flock cheered and rushed to pat the boy on the back, his dad lifting him up in his arms. 

The child scuttled towards you and threw his arms around your neck. You chuckled delightedly. “Alright everyone! That’s it for our surf lesson today. Be sure to check out the gift shop on your way out!” 

You waved bye to the guests as they made way to return their boards to the hut, some handing you rolled up cash, with thankful smiles. 

Once the coast was clear, you jogged back to the hut only to find Sophia, your best friend and lazy co-worker, lounging with her legs stretched on the checkout counter of the tiny surf shack. She hung a lollipop in her mouth while her eyes glued to her phone screen. 

“You know, when you asked me to find you a job, I actually thought you meant one where you actually work.” 

Sophia popped out the sucker and threw you a glare. “I did work! See!” she pointed her hand at the sign hanging beside the door that read ‘OBX Surf and Sports’, “I put that sign up this morning.” 

“It’s crooked.” 

“Bleh, bleh, bleh,” she mocked, “Nothing I ever do is good enough.” You chuckled and shook your head at her. 

You peered out the giant window at the front of the store, surveying the empty beach. This was going to be the rest of your summer. At sixteen years old, you were one of the Outer Banks’ surfing all-stars and spent your days working as an instructor for the second year in a row. 

Customers loved you and your ability to work with all ages rendering you the title of ‘Top Instructor’ at the shack- which didn’t mean much seeing as 90% of the employees were amateur teenagers. 

Nevertheless, you were determined to keep that title, as whoever brought in the most satisfied customers by the end of the summer wins a $5,000 scholarship. And you needed that money bad in order to attend your dream school: UVA. 

Along the beach, you caught a glimpse of your competition, Cody, and instinctly groaned. 

On any other occasion, you really didn’t care about what people did with their lives, but something about your arrogant, sleazy, five-foot-seven co-worker grinded your gears. 

He was always man-splaining to you and the other girls at the shack or kissing ass to your boss. And you knew well he was after the scholarship too- your scholarship. 

“Look at him,” you sneered to Sophia as she joined you at the window to death-glare the boy. He was prepping his group on the sand for their session and looked absolutely despicable in his shorts that were inches away from exposing his little one. Emphasis on the little. 

“Ugh, he’s making them do jumping jacks again,” Sophia pointed out, crinkling her nose, “God that poor old lady. Can he be any more extra?” 

“I need to look away, I think I might vomit if he ever flashed me.” 

Your best friend snickered at your hatred as you waxed down your board for your next lesson. “Did the group of girls check in yet?” you asked. 

“Yeah, they’re sitting and waiting at Eye Sickles,” she informed, referring to the popsicle food-truck next door. “I can’t believe they really signed up for the month-long surfing program. I didn’t know people actually paid for that.” 

“You’d be surprised. These tourists will buy into anything, trust me,” you said before heading out the door. 

You walked up to three tourist girls lounging on the fold-out tables and chairs at the food-truck. They were mindlessly typing away on their phones, looking as bored as ever. 

“Alright, do I have Annalise, Maia, and Arabella?” you announced with your work-smile on. They peered up from their phones and nodded with blank faces.

“Awesome,” you continued, trying to maintain your enthusiasm, “I’m y/n, I’ll be your instructor! I see you guys signed up for the month-long pro-boarding program which is great. Have you guys ever surfed before?” 

“Nope,” a blonde girl replied, “Our parents found this online and said it’d be good for us to learn while we’re here. We’re from Richmond, Virginia.” 

“Oh cool!” you jeered, the fake zeal was oozing at that point. “Well, I’m happy to be spending the summer with you guys. I’m going to have you guys grab a board and we’ll head down to the sand to go over the basic motions.” 

The trio followed you into the hut and picked out a board from the beginners section. You noticed the blonde one giggling with Sophia at the stand for a bit before joining you on the sand. She had a leader-like quality to her while the two other remained quiet but friendly. 

“Alright so, just for formalities, who’s who? That way I can identify you better,” you asked as the girls situated their boards along the shore.  

Not shockingly, the blonde extended her hand to you first. “I’m Annalise,” she greeted a little sullenly. You shrugged off her attitude, attributing it to her being a bougie tourist. 

“I’m Maia,” a tall, jet-black haired girl said next. She had a very athletic body and came off as the quietest one of the group. 

“And I’m Arabella,” the last one chimed in. Her hair was a fiery orange and she had piercings run along her ears and nose. 

“Alright cool! So now, we’ll start off with the movements you’ll go through once you hit the water. You want to start off flat on your stomach and paddle towards the waves. Make sure you have full control of your board at all times,” you began as the girls copied your demonstration on their own boards. 

You heard sniffles come from the group, but ignored it to continue your spiel. You could hardly read any of their expressions through their giant, bug-eyed sunglasses. 

Just as you were about to explain the importance of balance- you favorite part of the lesson- you saw the blonde sit up on her board in irritation and start sobbing through her glasses. 

“Annalise come on, it’s not worth it,” the tall one, Maia, reasoned as the Annalise shook her head furiously. 

“I can’t do this right now,” she cried before bolting back towards the shack. 

You watched her in utter confusion. “Was it something I said?” you asked the remaining two. 

The orange one shook her head and gave you a sincere look through her glasses. “No, she’s just really upset about this guy,” she turned to her friend, “Come on, let’s go check on her.” 

At that point, you had no choice but to follow the group towards their distressed friend. This was definitely coming out of their session time. 

The three of you plowed up the sand to find the girl, Annalise, sprawled on Sophia’s shoulder at the tables as she cooed her like a baby. You wanted to cringe. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay. He’s a piece of shit anyways! Trust me, he did the same to me too,” your best friend comforted and petted the stranger’s yellow hair. 

“What’s going on?” you questioned at the scene. Sophia glanced up at you with a pleading look. 

“It’s JJ.” 

Oh brother. This dude again. JJ Maybank was the Outer Bank’s most infamous fuck boy. Him and his friends threw parties all the time at the Boneyard- ones you have yet to attend- and he effortlessly earned his reputation by sleeping with any girl he could get his grubby hands on. 

By this point, he’s broken half the hearts on the island with girls moaning and groaning about him left and right- Sophia included. You remembered her wailing the day he ghosted her after they did the nasty. It wasn’t a pretty day... or week for the matter. 

You didn’t understand what the big deal was with the guy. You’d gone to school with him since the first grade and he’d always been that guy that rolls in the mud during playtime in elementary school. And he still was that guy to this day.

You heard all the cringey lines he’d pull on girls at school that would get them swooning and you swore he was running a voodoo business because no one in their right mind could fall for that. 

But everyone did. Except for you. 

“What? Did he ghost you too?” you gestured towards the wrecked weeping girl.

She nodded and blew her boogers into the tissues Sophia brought out. 

“I-I, well, we met him at a party this weekend and he took me to this little hideout on the beach. He told me that he never met anyone like me before and said all this other shit. Then we had sex there, which I never do in public, and he said he couldn’t wait to see me again. And he never called me after!” 

Though you thought her public display was a little too... public, you did feel sorry for her. The guy was a tool, and these tourist girls, especially, didn’t know any better. 

“Don’t worry,” Sophia assured, resting a hand atop hers, “he did it to me and everyone at school. We all fell for the trap.” 

Maia and Arabella joined the sitting girls in a piled group hug as the ones in the center sputtered in tears together. You couldn’t bear to watch, but for Sophia, you awkwardly joined in anyways. 

The rest of the surfing session consisted of the girls pulling up their own chairs and  bad-mouthing JJ, along with all other men, as everyone licked their popsicles. 

You sucked on your mango one, not minding the little break as it was the easiest $150 you ever made. The girls weren’t as hoity-toity as you first thought. They apologized for wasting your time and promised to leave five-star reviews about you. Even better. 

As evening rolled in, you found yourself laughing and joking around with your new-found friends. They told you wild stories of their private school shenanigans back in Richmond while you and Sophia filled them in on life at the OBX. 

“This day was incredible,” Annalise beamed, dazed after her fourth popsicle. “Can’t believe we all bonded like this over a guy,” she chuckled, “I just... gah, I wish we could get him back somehow. Make him feel how we feel!” 

“You should,” you agreed, “Why don’t one of you guys go to the parties and try to seduce him and then leave him hanging? The trick with men is to withhold sex from them and they’ll be helpless.” 

Everyone’s face lit up in excitement at your idea. “No, totally! We could definitely do that!” Sophia exclaimed with wide eyes. “So who will it be? Who’s our hamster?” 

“Not me,” Maia objected almost instantly, “I have a boyfriend back home so no seducing will be done on my part.” 

“Arabella then,” Annalise suggested, nudging the girl beside her. 

“Alright...” she agreed, fiddling with the string of her bathing suit, “I guess I could take one for the team.” 

“There we go!” you cheered, “You just march straight into that party, grind on him a bit to leave him hanging, then proceed to embarrass the shit out of him! Problem solved!” 

-----------------------------

note: do not worry! more drama to come 

chapter 2

#outerbanks #outer banks #outer banks imagine #rafe outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #john b obx #obx fanfiction #obx imagine #obx #jj obx #jj x y/n #jj x reader #jj maybank #jj #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n

[glitxhwayventeen]

Ghostin

Seungkwan: Chapter 2 (A Little Bit Of Your Heart)

Characters: Seungkwan x female reader

Genre/Warnings: multi-member au (different scenarios), werewolf au, fantasy, angst (a shit ton of sadness honestly), semi-unrequited love, death mentions, implied genocide, runaway mates, family fighting, violence. Any others will be put as warnings when future chapters are thought up/written.

Author’s Note: Hi Friends! I recommend listening to Just A Little Bit of Your Heart by Ariana Grande. I think it sets a good mood to this chapter. Well not good mood, but it helps give you an idea of how I want you to feel towards the end f it.

Please remember that all of these chapters and the content within them are a work of fiction! They’re just for fun/entertainment!

Bold= Dialogue Italics= Thoughts

🥀

Ghostin Master List

Chapter 2: A Little Bit Of Your Heart

Over the next week, you continued to have nightmares about your past mate. Sometimes it was the memory of his dying, other times it was a completely unrealistic portrayal of terror with him leading the charge. Each time Seungkwan would dutifully come to your aide and hold your through your ordeal, kissing your head and rocking you back and forth like a baby. Sometimes, you’d lay your palm on him somewhere on his body and you’d suck him right into the dream you were having.

He couldn’t lie, seeing you so upset over another man was destroying him, but he loved you. He knew you’d eventually get over it, or at very least not be so upset over it. That’s what he kept telling himself anyway. But every dream he was thrown into with you made that thought dwindle more and more. He could see how much you loved your past mate still. Everytime you smiled at the other wolf, it broke something in him. Everytime you threw yourself into his arms and begged him to never let you go, he’d wake up the next morning, dart out the door and run into the nearby woods and cry until his throat bled.

He wasn’t like his brothers and how they were with their mates issues, he couldn’t keep up his brave face for long. He couldn’t help but let your past bother him. No matter how much he tried, it always affected him. He was just too emotional a person to have your situation not hurt him. He wanted your attention and love solely for himself. It was just his instincts.

He was never good at controlling them to begin with, but when you came around, what little self control he had went out the window. He couldn’t help but be jealous and angry. He couldn’t stop the tears that flowed down his face every night when he was holding you, hushing you back to sleep. He knew your heartache wasn’t for him. It was killing him. But he would NEVER let you know that. It wasn’t your fault this was happening anymore than it was his. He just wished you would see him rather than want your old partner.

His brothers were all very concerned for him. He was having trouble eating, sleeping, and just being his general happy little self. It was like he was a hollowed out shell. They wanted him happy, but they knew confronting him on it would just upset you, which would in turn, further hurt him. They knew it wasn’t really something you could control, they just wished that you two could get to your happily ever after already. You had started to notice how much of a toll you had taken on him too…

You woke up that morning in Seungkwan’s arms, a ritual to which you had become accustomed to. You felt safe with him, which you knew was probably only because of the mate pull, but you decided that you liked his naturally protective nature regardless. You had began to really enjoy being around him. He did everything he could to make you happy. He always made you laugh. He never let you say an unkind word about yourself. You had started to developed some very strong feelings for him. He was still out cold, he must’ve been exhausted trying to keep up with your horrible sleeping habits.

You nuzzled your nose into his bare chest and whimpered out, signaling to him that you wanted him to wake up. Of course, it worked and within seconds his precious eyes had shot open to check on you. The whites in them were dulled and their usual sparkle had lost their shine. You felt bad that you had done this to him, he looked so worn out that you couldn’t help but let another whine escape your lips. His hair was greasy and unkept, his skin was pale and the bags under his eyes had become prominent, even his voice had started to lose it’s cheery edge that you loved so much. You did this to him. And you absolutely hated yourself for it.

“What’s wrong baby? Is everything alright?” He quickly stated as he shook his head to wake himself up. Despite his tiredness, you were still the only thing he cared about.

“Y- Yeah, I’m okay. I just feel bad s’all” you mumbled against his hand that had found itself on your cheek as he looked at you with a great worry on his face.

“Why do you feel bad baby?” He questioned, bringing your face to his and giving you a gentle kiss on the forehead.

“That you’re suffering cause of me. I’m sorry” you spoke to him with watery eyes. Shit.

“I’m not suffering baby” Liar. He lied to you as he hushed you, laying his forehead against yours as he started to rub your temples softly., “I’m just a little tired is all.” Well, that one at least wasn’t a complete lie.

“Because I won’t let you sleep.” You finally sobbed out and threw your head in your hands.

“I’m sorry. I keep trying to stop. I- I keep trying to take him off my mind, it just- it just doesn’t work. I don’t now what to do! I’m so fucking sorry!” You wailed before he pulled you into his chest, rocking you back and forth like he had the previous night.

“Shhhh… It’s alright baby. I’m alright. You don’t need to worry about me alright. It’s my job to worry about and help you. And that’s exactly what I’ve been doing.” He tried to assure you, failing miserably.

“I’m supposed to care for you too. And I haven’t been. I’m sorry” you let the tears freely fall before Seungkwan used his thumbs to sweetly wipe them away and forced you to look up at him.

“Baby, look at me, I’m okay. I’m just a little tired. But I’ll be alright. It won’t be like this forever, just a little while longer, okay? You don’t need to waste your pretty little tears on me. I’m a big strong wolf. I can handle myself.” He said a little too confidently, causing you to let out a chuckle at his joke.

“See, there’s my girl. Now hurry up. Breakfast is gonna be ready any minute and if we’re not down there, we won’t be getting any.” He kissed your nose and jumped to his feet, grabbing one of his shirts on the floor in the process. He took your hand and pulled you up out of bed, making his way to his bedroom door and down the stairs to the kitchen.

The scene in front of you after you reached the bottom of the staircase caused a grin to appear on your lips. All the boys had gathered around the kitchen table and were conversing loudly with each other. You had missed being with a big family, it was nice that now, thanks to Seungkwan, you had one again.

“Morning guys!” Seungkwan chirped as he sat in an empty chair, grabbing you by your waist and pulling you to sit on his lap, making you blush slightly as you weren’t yet used to that type of PDA yet.

“Morning kids!” Mingyu chuckled aloud towards you both as he put Chan in a headlock, fighting for the last piece of bacon on the porcelain plate in front of them.

“How’d you sleep last night Seungkwan?”Jihoon questioned bluntly, his gaze going straight to Seungkwan, completely ignoring your existence.

It wasn’t unusual for him to do that, he was one of the wolves who were closest to your mate. And though he wanted his brother to be happy, he didn’t like the fact that you were still hung up on your old mate. So he gave you a bit of the cold shoulder whenever he could. You didn’t really mind. You understood his anger and thought he had every right to dislike you. The other boys didn’t like seeing their brother so torn up, but they didn’t blame you for it. Just Jihoon.

“We slept just fine, thanks!” Seungkwan put on a fake mile to answer the older wolf’s question, knowing full well that he meant to disclude you. He didn’t like Jihoon’s attitude toward you and he did whatever he could to show him that he wanted him to stop.

“I didn’t ask about BOTH of you, I asked about YOU. How did YOU sleep? Did she force you to stay up again?” Jihoon sneered out while scowling at you.

“Hyung, knock it off. She didn’t ‘force’ me to do anything. You know that. I stayed up because I WANTED to.” Seungkwan shot back, his grip on your waist tightening as he felt your heart beat speed up anxiously.

“Right.” Jihoon added, “because you just LOVE not sleeping for days on end.” He rolled his eyes before huffing, setting his eating utensil down with a loud clank sound.

“Would you back off already!” Seungkwan jolted up, setting you in his place on his chair before leaning over the table to get in the older boy’s face.

“She can’t help her nightmares! But you can help being an asshole!” He growls out, nostrils flaring and eyes turning red with anger.

Jihoon stood up from his chair, pushing it back with a loud screech before slamming his hands down onto the wood table. The noisy bang when he hit the table was enough to jolt you up from your chair.

“I’ll stop being an asshole when she stops playing with your feelings! All you want is Just A Little Bit Of Her Heart and she won’t give you anything more than exhaustion and heartbreak!” He yells out, chest puffing up and down with rage.

The other boys in the house had quickly gathered their mates and had taken them to their respective rooms, fearing for their safety in the event of a fight. All that remained in the kitchen with you three were the mateless Minghao, the nosey Soonyoung, and the Alpha Joshua.

You stood there in complete shock, not really knowing what to do. If you spoke up, you’d only make Jihoon’s anger toward you worse. But if you didn’t, your mate might attack him. Tears started rolling down your cheeks as you looked between the two arguing wolves. Seungkwan sensed your emotions through his anger and turned his eyes to you for a moment. He could see how much his brother’s words were affecting you, so he decided to get you out of there before things got worse.

“Joshua Hyung, can you please take (Y/N) back up to my room? She doesn’t need to deal with his bitchy attitude anymore than she has to!” Seungkwan snarled Jihoon’s way as he pleaded with the only Alpha available to get you out of the current situation.

You weren’t as helpless as the other mates, you were a wolf too, after all. You weren’t even scared of Jihoon, he was only a few inches taller than you in your human forms. In your wolf forms, you’d even be the bigger one out of the two of you. But everyone in the pack knew you didn’t like to fight. You’d rather get beaten bloody than potentially harm someone else with your strength, even if they had started it, you’d never continue it.

But Seungkwan was worried for you. Jihoon had, on occasion, started and finished some pretty gnarly fights. He didn’t want him to try and lunge at you. And he definitely didn’t want his brother to end up hurting you. He would protect you if he needed to, but he’d rather you be taken away from the situation to prevent it as much as possible.

Joshua nodded at your mate before he took your wrist in his hand and began to head towards the stairs to bring you back to your room. It was his job as Alpha to try and keep the peace, but his most urgent job right now was to make sure you, a mate, didn’t get hurt.

“Why would you try to send her away?? She needs to hear this! She should know what she puts you through everyday! She should know she’s killing you and that we’re all pissed at her for it!” Jihoon growls toward you, causing your mate’s fangs to slightly elongate at the older wolf as he did his best to keep his inner wolf from showing.

“Don’t you dare talk to her that way.” Seungkwan coldly said, moving to stand in front of your fleeting figure, blocking you from the older wolf’s view.

“My God! She could at least TRY to hide her pathetic little feelings for a dead guy when you’re around! But she doesn’t! Because she doesn’t love you like she loved him. Wake up Boo! She never has and she never will!” Jihoon jabs his pointer finger into your mate’s chest.

“Why can’t you fucking see through her stupid shit? She’s not worth you destroying yourself!” Jihoon screamed at his younger brother while staring up at the younger wolf, practically drilling holes into his eyes with the amount of fury he was exhausting.

Joshua had tried to pull you upstairs again once the two wolves had gotten closer to each other. The other boys in the room moving into position to prevent the arguing wolves from hurting each other, a sure fire sign that something was going to happen. But you managed to wiggle your arm from his grip. You jetted your way back to the center of the kitchen before you spoke up.

“He’s right Seungkwan, I’m not worth this! You shouldn’t have to destroy yourself for me. I’ll leave!” You jump in, causing all the boys to stop their snarling at each other and turn to you in shock. What?

“W- What did you just say?” Seungkwan whispered, barely audible.

He tried to step toward you with his hand going out to try and reach your arm, causing you to jerk your should backwards. The sadness on his face was enough to make you want to fall to your knees and cry, but you had to remain strong for this. You caused enough damage to their pack. You wanted the boys to all get along again, you wanted things to go back to normal for them, but most of all, you wanted Seungkwan to stop tearing himself apart because of you.

“I said I’ll leave. This isn’t fair to your pack, and it’s sure as shit not fair to you. I’m killing you, and you don’t deserve this.” You say weakly, trying your best to hold back your imminent tears.

“But- But you’re my mate… You- You can’t just leave me… I- I can die if if you go.” Seungkwan sobbed, streams of hot liquid cascading down his cheeks.

You stepped in front of him, quickly cupping his face with your small hand and smiling defeatedly.

“No. You won’t Seungkwan. You have a family who love you enough to tell you the harsh truth, they won’t let you die on them. They love you more than you could ever imagine, Trust me on that. I know you’ll be okay because you’d never leave them when they need you as much as they do. You’ll be okay. I need to leave so you can be happy again.” You speak with shimmering eyes, tears forming at your water lines at the thought of losing him.

Last time you lost a mate, you wanted to die. Hell, you tried to die, more times than you can count. But the thought of losing Seungkwan felt like you already were dead. Your heart felt like it had disappeared from your chest and the air had evaporated from your lungs. Every morsel of your soul ached. But you had to do this, you had to do this for him. He deserved better.

Seungkwan stood there quietly crying his eyes out as you held his fragile face. The boys frozen around him were but a distant memory as he looked into your eyes and tried to find something to say, anything to say, to try and make you stay with him. But all he could do was take the hand you had against his cheek in his and snuggle into it, trying his best to memorize the sensation with everything he had in him.

“Please…” He mustered out, looking at every inch of your beautiful face as if it were the last time he would ever see it. For all he knew, it was.

You moved onto your tippy toes and gave his lips a loving peck before moving yourself back down, a tear dropping down the side of your face in the process.

“Jihoon was wrong on something you know. I do love you Seungkwan, more than I’ll ever love anything in this world.” You let out a small laugh as he shook his head in disbelief, not wanting you to go.

You dropped your hand to his face and let it hit your side right as you made your way for the front door. You reached for the doorknob and turned, pulling it open before you stepped outside and closed it.

You looked back at the house with fondness before shifting into your wolf form and sprinting full speed into the deep forest, leaving Seungkwan and the other boys standing paralyzed with shock inside.

(Updated 8/7)

#seventeen #seventeen angst #seventeen au #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #svt au #seventeen x reader #boo seungkwan #svt seungkwan #seungkwan

[finn-ray-nal-beads]

BITCH YOU’RE BASICALLY AT 300 FOLLOWERS! SO GIMME PART 2 TO THAT PHILLIP ALTMAN BLURB YOU WROTE FOR ME YOU BEAUTIFUL BITCH!💖💖💖💖💖

A/N: BITCH I AM SO SORRY IT HAS TAKEN ME THIS LONG TO PUT THIS OUT. I HOPE YOUR WHORE ASS LOVES IT @historyandfandoms50

Warnings: obscene amounts of marital bliss and fluff, pussy eating, mentions of a blow job, domestic love, appliance fucking (if that’s even a thing), large amounts of smut, slight degrading language (only once or twice), nipple play, slight pain play

(Present time)

“Holy fuuu-cccc-kkiinggg shittttt, honey!” Crying out on top of the brand new washer and dryer combo you and Phillip just had delivered not even an hour ago. 

“Yeah babe?” he thrust his twitching cock into your squelching pussy, “you like it when I fuck you on our new shit?” 

You let out a sinful moan as the warmth from the heated dry cycle added to your already overstimulated senses, “God yes Phil, honey, I love it when you fuck me on things!” 

(A few hours earlier)

It was a lazy Sunday morning, you both had woken up the average way, Phillip nose deep in your wet pussy, licking kitten stripes to disturb your dreams. It was his favorite meal of the day, as he called it, tasting your wetness built up from the almost eight hours since he’d fucked you the night before. His cock weeping at its head from the no contact for that long as well. He got his fill as you unraveled around him within minutes of his assault on your throbbing hole, looking up at your blissed-out face. His goatee and mustache glazed like a donut, licking your sweet juices from it like a salve. 

After a well-placed blowjob to rid him of his morning wood, you both had fully gotten out of bed and went along with your day. He made a pot of coffee downstairs, while you showered and did your Sunday self-care routine. Slipping on your favorite leggings and t-shirt combo, you gathered all the dirty clothes from the week, placing them in the hamper after they had been sorted. You both were excited to finally have a washer and dryer in your house instead of dragging your clothes to the dry cleaners. The delivery would be here any minute and you wanted your laundry to be ready the second it was hooked up. You made the bed, fluffed the pillows, and headed downstairs with the hampers to drop them off in the mudroom before heading to the kitchen. 

Upon descending the flight, the smell of fresh brewed coffee and omelets filled the air, causing your eyes to roll back into your head. Your husband despite all of the behaviors he exhibited outside your shared home, had the best domestic side to him. He cooked, cleaned, and took care of you every second he could do so. He doted on you every chance he got to, bringing home your favorite flowers, bottles of expensive wines, exquisite lingerie, and sweets when he found your favorite vices. You were spoiled rotten by him, and of course, you treated him the same way. The love you both had for each other exceeded any kind of love you had been familiar with in the past. He was by all accounts the perfect match for you and you, to him, were his whole world and nothing more. Friends and family even saw the affections when you were around him, and they made every single point to be supportive and sometimes jealous at the sappy love you two had shared. 

You and he didn’t want to have it any other way though. He was your best friend by all accounts, and you would be satisfied if he was the only person you interacted with for the rest of your life. 

You walked into the kitchen after dropping loads of laundry off by the space for the new appliances and grabbed a cup out of the cabinet. 

“Hey babe,” he turned around, shirtless and in joggers, sipping some coffee himself, and turning an omelet over in a pan on the cooktop. 

You walked over after filling your cup and ran a hand up his enormous back, caressing the moles and freckles spotted all over the expanse of it, “hi honey,” you sang while lifting yourself on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He moved his face upon feeling your soft touch and wrapped his arm around to kiss you properly, only breaking when the eggs started to bubble. 

“Breakfast is ready, and I got a text that the truck will be here any second with the set,” he smiled into your puckered lips again, causing you to moan out in excitement. 

“Can’t wait,” you whispered, moving your hands to wrap around his thick middle, gripping the skin a little tighter than previous. 

“Oh babe,” he cooed, “is my little wife still not over what happened this morning?” he teased putting the spatula down and flipping the stovetop off bringing his large hands to grip your ass cheeks. 

“I just love you, so much honey,” you smiled running your hands up to his chest, leaving light nail marks on his tits. 

“I. Love. You. Too. Babe.” he punctuated on every kiss he left around your lips, cupping your heat in his palm. Just as things were about to get steamy, the doorbell chimed. 

(Just before the MAGIC)

“Thanks, guys!” Phillip waved off the installers while you immediately filled your new machine with the dirty darks you’d been saving. 

Flipping the unit on, you watched the majesty of your very own washer working to clean your garments, almost bawling at the thought of never seeing a coin-op machine again. 

“You like it, babe?” Phillip stood in the doorway of the laundry room, leaning to one side of it, admiring your curves as you bent down to grab the other hamper with the whites in it, easing up and setting it on the bench next to the dryer. 

Turning around glassy-eyed, you jumped into your handsome husband’s arms, “h-holy shit, Y/N!” 

“I love them, honey,” you almost sobbed into his naked neck, as he tightened his grip on your waist, causing your legs to choke his middle. 

“I’m so glad babe,” he pet your damp hair, moving it out of the way so he could pepper your perfect neck with kisses. 

His soft lips sent a shiver down your spine, causing a whimper to spill out of your mouth. He took that as a sign and began sucking perfect welts along the length of it, the colors growing darker and darker the more he trailed downward. 

“God I love it when you whine like that,” he growled into your ear, biting the delicate flesh, causing you to look up from your hiding spot. You enveloped his swollen lips in a searing kiss, his hands gripping your ass once again as your arms fell behind his head, tangling your digits in his hair. 

He moved to set you on top of the new dryer, letting go of your cheeks and moving up to your perky tits hidden behind your t-shirt. You had forgone a bra for the day, so the access was simple. He snuck his large hands around each tit, twisting your nipples in his rough fingers, causing you to cry out again. 

“Fuck, Phil,” you gasped as he pinched your hardening buds, “I need you, honey.” 

“Oh ya?” he smirked, kissing your clothed tits, taking in your scent, “you need me to do what baby?” 

He twisted them again, this time with a little more fervor, “O-oh fuck-k!” you wailed out. 

“Use your words honey, or I’ll leave you alone,” he taunted at your pained face pleading for him. 

“I-I need y-you to fuck m-me,” you said with tears streaming down your face. 

He hushed you, rubbing the wetness away, coming in between your legs to rub his hardened cock on your clothed pussy. 

“Take your pants off love, or I’ll rip them off,” as he turned the dial on the dryer, to a cycle. 

You squirmed your leggings off, baring your nude and throbbing cunt to his eager eyes, “so wet for me, baby,” licking his lips as he turned the machine on. 

The vibrations from the dryer sending shockwaves through your aching clit, you set yourself back on your elbows, exposing more of your mound to your husband’s eyes. He pulled his pants down, palming his angry cock and lining it up with your entrance. 

He grabbed both sides of your hips, sinking his dick into your wetness, the both of you collectively moaning in complete pleasure. He held himself still, admiring your writhing around from his dick pulsing inside you and the vibration from the dryer underneath. You looked utterly delicious, and his hunger to make you come spurred him into a frenzied series of animalistic thrusts. 

(Back to present time)

Balls slapping up against your little asshole, your elbows propped burning from the sensation of rubbing against the top of the dryer, you scooted yourself forward removing your top as he adjusted his angle to fit your needs. Your bouncing tits at his eye level, he took one in his mouth sucking as hard as he could. Your hands weaving into his head in a death grip as he mercilessly fucked you for all he had. 

“G-god baby,” he stammered, “I’m s-so f-fucking c-close.” 

“Fuck-k b-babe,” you moaned out over the many noises, “s-so am I.” 

His hand moved from your tit to your aching clit, rubbing his thumb in tight circles over it. Your pussy tightening around his cock as he sent you into a blissful orgasm. 

“Jesus fuckin’ C-Christ honey,” you cried out, milking your sweet nectar on his pulsing cock. He thrust in and out a few more times, the overstimulation from your hole throbbing around his member sending him into his release too. 

“God, babe,” he growled out coating your insides with his seed, “You are so fuckin’... beautiful,” he whined out on the final release of his remaining spend. 

Just then, the dryer alarm rang, signaling the end of the cycle he’d set. You both looked up connected still and looking utterly fucked, and laughed out loud. 

“Well,” you patted his back, “at least now we know how long we have until the dry cycle is over!” 

He chuckled, helping you down from the machine, and handing you your leggings, “indeed we do honey.” 

He swatted your bare ass bent over looping your feet through the legholes, to which you stood at attention and smacked his bare chest. He put his hands in the air if he hadn’t touched you ever, and you rushed into his body in a bear hug, or a ‘baby bear hug’ as he liked to call it. 

“I love you,” you kissed into his little tuft of hair on his sternum. 

“I love you most,” he snaked his arms around you, kissing your head and rubbing your back. You both left the mudroom, changing the laundry as the day went by. 

Now, the new tradition you had both agreed on was every new big thing bought for the house had to be ‘christened’, making buying things a little more fun in the future. 

You fell asleep that night curled up in Phillip’s embrace, stroking his every feature on his sweet face as he was lulled off by your presence. All you could do was smile and think about which shiny new thing you all were desperate for next. You’d ponder it more when you didn’t feel so tired from gazing at your sleeping husband. The last thing you saw was his precious freckles fade into your memories as you drifted off. 

_____________

PHILLIP FUCKING US ON ANYTHING IS HOT AS FUCK LIKE NO CAP. I REALLY HOPE THIS TICKLED YOUR PICKLE BABE. 

🖤,

ray-nal-beads 

#phillip altman #this is where i leave you #phillip x reader #phillip altman x female reader #adam driver #phillip altman smut #phillip altman fluff #historyandfandoms50 #requests

[whump-tr0pes]

HB4-23/Whumptober day 1

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel to Honor Bound, Honor Bound 2, Honor Bound 3.

AO3

Masterlist

~

The nightmare from this chapter was pulled from this piece, part of one of a dizzying array of AUs with the spectacular @ashintheairlikesnow

Content warning: this one is ROUGH let’s start whumptober out right: blood, DEATH, abuse from a family member, gendered slur, alcoholic parent, self-hatred, discussion of child whumper, discussion of child murdering someone, panic attack, PTSD, self-blame for child not taking care of a parent, suicid@l ideations, dissoci@tion

~

Rosa’s expression was cold. Everything about her was cold: the hard line of her mouth, the arms crossed in front of her chest, the way she turned away from Isaac as if he was disgusting to look at. Everything was cold, except for her eyes. Her eyes blazed with fury, and it made Isaac tremble.

Michael limped back into the house, blood soaking through their pant leg, and it made Isaac whimper.

Jordan was being carried between William and Lexi, and that made Isaac hate himself.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed weakly as they laid Jordan on the floor. Their skin was a blue-gray, where it wasn’t stained a sort of black-red that made Isaac’s stomach heave. The worst part, the worst part, was their eyes. They were open, blank, staring sightlessly up at Isaac. Accusing. Empty.

Dead.

Isaac fell to his knees beside Jordan, his hand reaching out to touch them.

Rosa grabbed his wrist in an iron grip and tore his hand away from Jordan. She dragged Isaac upright and pitched him onto his back. She stood over him and jabbed a finger at him.

“You don’t get to touch them,” Rosa snarled.

Isaac whined softly and pushed himself up to look at Jordan past Rosa. Rosa stepped forward and kicked him back onto his back.

“Please,” Isaac sobbed. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I… I didn’t… I didn’t mean—”

“They’re dead because of you,” Rosa hissed. “You know that. We went out to fight and you were supposed to be there, to protect us, and you weren’t. You preferred to not take the shot. You preferred to run like the useless piece of shit you are.”

Isaac held out a hand in front of him, tears pouring down his face. “Rosa, no, please, I just didn’t want…” Isaac crumpled into sobs. “I didn’t mean for anyone to die, I just… I didn’t want to kill anyone, please…”

“Shut up,” Rosa growled. “This is your fucking job. We’ve spent the past… the past seven years taking care of you. Making sure you have everything you need. We made you part of our family, Isaac. And when it came time for you to repay everything we’ve done… all we asked was this one little thing…”

“You said I’d have to kill people,” Isaac whispered. “Please… William, please,” Isaac begged, straining to look past Rosa. She shoved him onto his back.

“You’re the one we’ve trained for this,” Rosa said viciously. “You’re the youngest. You move the best. You’re the one best suited to handle this, and you didn’t.” Rosa’s face was changing, morphing, flickering between her and his mother. Rosa, his mother. Rosa, his mother. Isaac blinked and scrambled back on his hands.

“But I…” He whimpered. “I’m sorry, Rosa,” he wailed. “Jordan, no… Jordan, I’m sorry… Jordan, NO…”

“You serve a purpose in this family,” Rosa snarled. “You protect us. You use your training to be useful.”

“Lexi… Michael, please…”

“And you failed. You failed us, Isaac. We made this plan assuming you’d have our back. And you failed.”

“No…”

Rosa’s lips pulled back over her teeth. “And… I have no fucking use for someone who refuses to do what they were trained to do.”

Isaac looked up at Rosa with terror in his eyes. “Rosa… please, I—”

“Get out, Isaac,” Rosa snarled at him. “Get out. If you refuse to repay the things we’ve done for you… We raised you, Isaac. We did more for you than that bitch mother ever did.”

It was his mother’s face saying it. Isaac’s brow furrowed. The smell of gin was thick in his nose.

“No,” Isaac whimpered. “Rosa, I… I’ll do it. I’ll go on the next one with you. I won’t run. I’ll take the shot… I promise. I… Rosa, I was scared…”

“You think I wasn’t, you fucking idiot?” Rosa snapped. “We were all scared. But we went. You’re the most trained, and you failed. You fucking ran. So get your shit, Isaac.”

“No…”

“Get your shit and fucking leave. I never want to see your face again.”

“Rosa, please, no…”

Rosa crouched by his side and thrust her face close to his. “I have no fucking use for you,” she hissed. Isaac could feel her breath on his face. It smelled like gin.

Rosa never drank gin.

“Fucking useless,” Rosa said. But it wasn’t Rosa. “I have no fucking use for you, if you won’t do this one little thing.” A bottle was in Rosa’s hand. Not Rosa. His mother. Sandy blonde hair and blue eyes.

“Fucking idiot,” she screamed in his face. “Is it so fucking hard to bring me my fucking gin?” She hurled the bottle at the wall. It bounced off. Plastic.

“You couldn’t tell us we were out of fucking milk,” the woman in front of him snarled. “How fucking hard is that? And now he’s… he’s dead.” Isaac cowered back away from his mother as she descended on him, her face twisted with rage. “And if I never had you, MY HUSBAND WOULD STILL BE ALIVE!”

Isaac stopped trying to move away from his mother. He stopped trying to fight the words. He collapsed onto the floor, curling into a tight ball of misery, burying his face in his hands. The thing that wore his mother’s face and spoke in his mother’s voice screamed hate and bile at him. He sobbed as the words fell on him like stones.

Isaac twisted away from his mother, his heart pounding in his chest. She was grabbing him in the dark… but when had she done that? His mother never touched him at all after his father died, not even once. This isn’t right.

Hands tightened on his wrists and he cried out, twisting in the dark, something wrapping around his legs, his chest, suffocating him.

“No,” he sobbed, tears burning on his cheeks.

“Isaac,” someone said urgently, and he froze. He knew that voice.

That voice came with a rush of terror, of relief, pain and misery and joy wrapped up in it, choking him, paralyzing him. He covered his head with his arms and curled into a ball, shaking, trembling with the horror of being restrained by something wrapping around his body, drawing tighter the more he fought. Pain spiked in his back and he wailed miserably.

The lamp snapped on. Isaac flinched as the light stabbed into his eyes.

“Isaac, shh, you’re alright… Isaac…” Someone pulled Isaac into their arms, and Gavin’s smell washed over him, warm and clean. Isaac scrambled out of the sheets that felt so much like restraints and clutched at Gavin. He buried his face in Gavin’s bare chest and heaved a broken sob.

“Shh,” Gavin whispered, trailing his fingers gently over the back of Isaac’s arm, missing the healing cuts. “It was a nightmare. Isaac…” A hand guided his face up and he met Gavin’s eyes, soft and concerned. “Isaac, it’s okay…”

“N-no,” Isaac sobbed, his breath hitching in his chest. “No, no, no, no…” He squeezed his eyes shut. They flew open again as Rosa’s face flashed across his vision.

“It’s alright, Isaac,” Gavin said gently, his voice betraying just a hint of strain. “You’re safe.” Gavin carded his fingers through Isaac’s hair, then stiffened. “Oh, shit. Do you need me to…? I can go, if you—”

“No,” Isaac whimpered desperately, clawing at Gavin’s back, clutching at his arms when Gavin let out a hiss through his teeth. “Please, please don’t go, please, please, please…” His voice broke as he pleaded.

“Okay, okay, I won’t,” Gavin said, his voice tight with worry now. “Isaac… was it… F-Fort Meyers? Or…”

“No,” Isaac whimpered, his arms tightening around Gavin’s chest. “No, it… my… my first fam— first team,” he said, misery clawing at his chest. “And my… my mom. They… um…” Isaac swallowed painfully. “Well, you… you know.”

Gavin’s hand went to the back of Isaac’s neck. “I, um… I… yeah. A little bit, yeah.”

“And they… she…” Isaac pushed down a sob and pressed his mouth against Gavin’s shoulder. “I… J-Jordan died because of, of me. Because I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kill… couldn’t take the fucking shot…” He gasped for breath. “And they died. Because I’m a coward, because I’m a fucking coward…”

“No, you’re not,” Gavin said through his teeth. “You’re not a coward. You… you’re not.”

“But I couldn’t kill the guard,” Isaac moaned. “I couldn’t fucking… do it, and J-Jordan, di-ied, and I… It’s my fault…”

“Isaac, no—”

“And Rosa, she, she kicked me out and… she said I… I was… useless and she didn’t want me if I didn’t do what I was… made for.”

Gavin sucked in a breath.

“She wouldn’t even let me… touch Jordan,” Isaac sobbed. “Wouldn’t let me say good, goodbye.” Isaac kicked the sheets off of him and dragged himself closer to Gavin, their legs tangling together. Gavin squeezed him tighter.

“Isaac, I’m—”

“And… she said… she sounded just like my mom, in the dream,” Isaac said, his voice dropping to an agonized whisper. “I couldn’t do this… one thing, and now my father is dead, and it’s my fault…”

“But it’s not—”

“I should have done it.” Isaac’s nose was running and he swiped at it with the back of his hand. “I should have killed him. And maybe if I had, maybe if I…” He ground his teeth together. “Maybe if I did my fucking job, I’d still be with them. Maybe if I didn’t… fail them…” Isaac buried his face into Gavin’s neck, as if he could hide from all his shame. “Then I… maybe I’d still be with them. Maybe they’d, um, still want me, and I could protect them, and they’d…”

Maybe they’d love me eventually, if I did it right.

Hate swept through him, singeing every inch of skin. Hate for himself. Hate so deep he couldn’t pry it out, no matter how deep he cut.

“If I… wasn’t so fucking stupid… my dad might—”

“Isaac, stop,” Gavin whimpered, and pressed a frantic kiss into his sweaty hair. Isaac hadn’t realized he was soaked with sweat until now. “Stop, please, don’t say that. None of it was your fault. You were a kid. You forgot to tell your parents you were out of damned milk. Do you know what I was doing at twelve?”

Isaac swallowed thickly. “N-no?”

Gavin shuddered, and suddenly he was shivering against Isaac like he was freezing to death. “By the time I was twelve… I’d already killed someone.”

Isaac’s eyes fell closed and tears ran down his face.

“So stop… I can’t… I can’t take it. Can’t… listen to you say that. It was a fucking mistake. It was a stupid fucking mistake, it was a normal mistake that adults do, and kids do, Isaac, it… it was just some fucking milk.” Gavin buried his face in Isaac’s hair. “That driver killed your dad. Not you. You had nothing to do with it. That could have happened on his way home from work, or on his way to…” Gavin’s throat bobbed. “Or on his way to the lake with you…” Gavin pulled Isaac closer. “That wasn’t your fucking fault. Okay? I know what it is to kill someone innocent. And you didn’t do it.”

“But I—”

“And neither was Jordan’s death your fault. Do you understand? You were so fucking young, Isaac. It’s not, um… not normal to kill someone. It’s… it’s okay that you didn’t.”

“I was twenty-one,” Isaac whimpered. “And it’s what I… was trained for. They… they, um… made me into that. They taught me everything. They took, took me to other teams so they could have me trained in weapons, jiu jitsu, karate, tactical movement and marksmanship and how to fucking make it out of something alive and I had all that training and I couldn’t fucking do my fucking job and I had seven years to get ready and they had me do some little practice missions and that was fine and then when it was real I failed I failed I failed…” Isaac dragged in a shuddering gasp.

There wasn’t enough air in the room. He pulled away from Gavin’s neck, his chest heaving with great, racking sobs.

“I, I failed, I failed, I, I f-failed, I—”

“Isaac, stop…”

“I, I, fai— I, can’t, bre-eathe, I, I, oh, f-fuck, I c-can’t—”

“Fuck. Fuck. Isaac, I… I don’t know how to—”

Isaac’s chest ached with every breath. “P-please, oh, fuck…” He choked and clutched at Gavin’s arm. “Ga-avin, h— I, can’t, please…”

“No, no, no, no, shit, Isaac…”

The room was spinning around him. His head throbbed with every heartbeat. “Oh, g-god, I, please…”

“Okay, okay, what does Gray do…? Oh!” Gavin cupped Isaac’s face and pulled it up until Isaac could see his eyes. “Look at me, Isaac. Look. Okay? We’re gonna breathe together, you and me. We’re gonna do it.”

Isaac felt like he was dragging in air through a straw. “Ca-an’t, can’t, can’t, can’t, shit…”

“Yes, you can.” Gavin’s voice was shaking. “It works when Gray does it, right? You can. Breathe in…”

Isaac’s hands cramped as he tried to keep his hold on Gavin. He ground out a whimper and curled his hands into fists. It just made the pain worse. He wailed miserably and curled into himself.

“Breathe, Isaac.”

“But my mom—”

“Fuck your mom. I… shit, Isaac, I didn’t… that was shitty of me to say. I’m sorry.”

“She… she was so angry…”

“And that wasn’t your fault.”

“It was! I could have… been there for her, could have helped her, she… she drank because dad was gone, but I was sort of gone, too… I spent so much time in my room, I didn’t… I used to play with my friends and go to my neighbor’s house for homeschooling sometimes, the schools weren’t safe even then…”

“Isaac—”

“I could have made her feel better…” Isaac trailed off in a rasping whisper.

“Isaac… I… I read… Gray said it’s not… kids’ jobs to take care of their parents. Okay? She should have been the one…” Gavin’s voice wavered on the edge of a sob. “…taking care of you.”

“But she couldn’t because she was drunk. I could have… helped…”

Gavin took a steadying breath. “Isaac… do you hear how fucked up that is?”

Deep down in Isaac’s soul, where all his desperate emptiness lived… he knew how wrong it was. He knew there should have been someone there to care for him. Keep him safe. Love him.

Every other part of his being cried out in horror, lashed him viciously for daring to want that. Daring to think he deserved it.

If he eventually failed everyone around him, even when their lives depended on him, what did that make him? Even when the odds were against him, that didn’t matter. He’d been trained to fight, trained to protect, and the people he protected didn’t care if he was scared or hurt or overwhelmed. He had a job to do, and he failed, he failed, he failed, he couldn’t bring his father back and he couldn’t make his mother feel better, and he couldn’t protect Jordan and he couldn’t kill and he couldn’t die and he couldn’t be anything but a reminder to everyone he loved of how much he’d failed, he’d failed…

Failed Sam. Failed Vera. Failed Ellis. Failed Finn. Failed Gray. Failed Tori. Failed Edrissa. Failed Gavin.

Why am I alive?

“—aac. Isaac, stop. Breathe, breathe, please…”

Someone was sobbing, someone was clawing at Gavin’s back and making him hurt, but it wasn’t Isaac.

“Oh, no…”

Someone was a mess of pain and blood and shame, someone was a walking disaster with nothing but bodies in his wake, someone was falling apart because when it mattered, he didn’t – couldn’t – defend his family.

“…sh-should I get Gray? I… Isaac, I don’t know what to do…”

Someone was an empty shell, gutted by nothing but his own failures. Someone was a liability. Someone shouldn’t be allowed to have a family if he couldn’t do his fucking job.

Three knocks at the door. Not for him. He wasn’t there anymore.

Continued here

@untilthepainstarts​​, @womping-grounds​, @free-2bmee​, @quirkykayleetam​, @walkingchemicalfire​, @inpainandsuffering​, @redwingedwhump​, @burtlederp​, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​, @whatwhumpcomments​, @cursedscribbles​, @whumpywhumper​, @stxck-fxck​, @omega-em-z-02​, @whumps-the-word​, @justwhumpitwhumpitgood​, @justplainwhump​, @moose-teeth​, @slaintetowhump​, @finder-of-rings​, @inky-whump​, @thatsthewhump​, @orchidscript​, @insanitywishes​, @this-mightaswell-happen​, @newandfiguringitout​, @whumpkitty​, @pretty-face-breaker​, @cinnamonflavoredhugs​, @inaridriscoll​, @im-just-here-for-the-whump​​, @endless-whump

#honor bound 4 #whumptober2020 #no. 1 #nightmares #altprompt #OC #fic #blood tw #death tw #abuse tw #gendered slurs tw #alcoholic parent tw #self-hatred tw #panic attack tw #PTSD tw #self-blaming tw #suicidal thoughts tw #dissociation tw #Isaac/Gavin #disowned by family #abandoned by his first team #begging #child whumper #past captivity #yes Gray has been giving Gavin books on trauma recovery #what do you think he was reading when the assassins tried to kill him in HB2

[fungalnebula]

Prologue

Chapter One (will be linked when published)

Please leave critiques and suggestions in replies and/or reblogs!!! Click the cover image for a surprise!

There was a large tube inside the basement of the Fenton building. It was closed off by a large, military grade door, securing the emptiness of the tube. This machine had been sitting in the basement of the Fenton building, unused, since its conception two long years ago.

“Danny, why didn’t you tell us about this?” One of Danny’s best friends, Sam, asked as Danny punched in a code to release the contents of the empty tube. “This is so cool!”

Sam loved the Ghost Aesthetic. Danny felt a little bad for not telling her about the broken portal because of that.

“It didn’t work so I thought you guys wouldn’t care,” Danny said. “It was broken anyway…”

“Dude, it’s still a ghost portal!” Danny’s other best friend, Tucker, exclaimed. “Even if it doesn’t work, all the bones are still there.”

“I’m sorry, guys. I didn’t know it would be that interesting.”

“Are you insane!?” Sam exclaimed, “this is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. Let me take a picture of you!”

“No way, Samantha.” Danny groused, “there is no way I’m getting in that thing. What if the reason it didn’t work is because of loose wires or something? I don’t want to die.”

“You won’t die and you know I hate it when you call me Samantha,” she chastised. “You said it’s been broken for years! There’s no way it’ll work if it hasn’t already. It’s like a dead bear, it can’t hurt you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Danny laughed at her analogy. “You can still fall on a dead bear and get maimed by its teeth AND SLASH OR claws, Samantha.” Danny mocked Sam, waving his hands with each syllable of her name.

“Yeah, bad metaphor, just get in there. You won’t get electrocuted or anything. Your parents probably disconnected it from the power when they gave up on it.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Danny finally conceded, “let me at least wear one of the suits my parents made for me. You know, just in case.”

“Is it insulated?” Tucker chuckled.

“Yes, Tucker,” Danny retorted. “It is insulated, as a matter of fact.”

Danny walked to a cabinet labeled “Ecto Suits” and pulled out a white jumpsuit with a black collar. He adorned it as well as some black gloves and black boots. He noticed Tucker smirk as Sam attempted to suppress a snort. Danny stuck his tongue out at his two best friends in the world. He’d do anything for those jokers. Danny zipped up his new outfit and took a hesitant step towards the defunct portal.

“You guys really want to do this?” Danny had to force this last word out of his throat. He had been assured that he was safe, but was he really?

“Yeah,” Sam was gentle now. “You’ll be fine. All I want is a little picture of you in that neat thingy.”

Tucker put his hand on Danny’s shoulder. “Don’t worry man, it’s unplugged.” Tucker pointed to a plug on the ground nearby, assuming it was the power source for the portal.

“That makes me feel a bit better.” Danny sighed, relieved. He took another few steps and was in front of the portal. It was eerie and echoey. “Oooo” Danny made a noise and heard it bounce off the metal walls inside.

“Go on,” Sam pushed Danny lightly.

“Hey! Okay, I’m going!” Danny took a step inside the portal. It felt … empty and big. Much bigger than it was. Longer too. The tube felt more like a tunnel at this point, Danny could see the end of the tunnel, but it felt like it was miles away. Danny felt heavy just taking one step inside. He took another and felt his body weigh him down even more. It was just the anxiety, Danny thought to himself. Your body gets heavy when it’s dreading something, right? But there was nothing to worry about, Danny assured himself.

Danny took a few more steps inside the portal and turned around to face the outside. He tasted ozone and he felt like his blood was made of lead. There was the quietest of ringings bouncing around in his head making him somewhat dizzy and his eyes felt like they were vibrating.

“Danny?” Sam asked.

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?” Sam looked concerned.

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s a bit spooky in here, though,” Danny let out a slight chuckle. “I’ll just suck it up for the picture.”

“Yeah, alright…” Sam trailed off. “Can you do a cool pose? Maybe put your hand against the side and lean or something?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Danny began to place his hand on the side of the portal. As his hand neared the wall, the taste of ozone intensified and his nose started running. His hand was almost to the wall when Sam snapped a picture with her polaroid camera.

“Oops,” she looked nervous as she took out the not-yet-developed picture and handed it to Tucker.

Danny knew she wanted a better shot so he finally put his hand on the wall. Millimeters before his hand made contact, Danny’s fingers felt like cold metal replaced all of his bones. He let his hand rest on the wall to his left as he felt a button depress. Immediately, his heart started racing as he felt panic run up his chest. Daniel Fenton suddenly felt the most excruciating pain he had ever and will ever feel in his life. He felt hundreds of knives stab him at once in every single nerve in his body. An army of knives marched through his nervous system, stabbing down hard with every step. This march of pain within his body moved incredibly fast but at the same time that it moved agonizingly slow.

Danny didn’t feel his throat open up to release a blood curdling scream of pure, horrific pain. He didn’t feel himself drop to his knees, but he did feel that militia of marching, stabbing pain start again at his knees. All he saw was green, neon green, everywhere. He tasted blood and ozone, the lower half of his face, beneath his nose, was wet and sticky. His lips felt like they were drenched in lip gloss that tightened at every breath he took. His left wrist felt like he had laid on it for hours and suddenly moved. Danny knew he was dying.

When his face smacked the metal floor of the now functioning portal, he didn’t feel his nose break, just the pain get more intense and the struggle to breathe increased with his mouth submerged in a shallow pool of blood escaping his nose like a dam had been opened. Danny didn’t feel himself being dragged by his friends out of the portal and he didn’t see the horrified looks on their faces when they saw all the blood and smoke coming from his body. He didn’t feel Tucker grab a broom and poke him with it, he didn’t hear Sam smack Tucker and throw the broom to the wall. Danny didn’t hear his sister pound down the stair and scream at the sight, he didn’t hear Sam wailing and sobbing and pleading with Danny to please wake up, he didn’t hear her whisper, “I’m so sorry Danny, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault, why am I so stupid,” to his head. He didn’t hear his sister, Jazz screaming through her tears at Tucker, “What happened to him? Why is his hair white? Where did all this blood come from?” He didn’t hear Tucker crying, “I’m sorry, I thought it was unplugged, I’m so sorry Jazz, I’m so sorry.”

Danny did hear a ringing, though. He heard waves too. Or was that wind? Danny heard someone whisper but they were so far away.

Then, Danny saw black. Danny saw black and a very dark red. “What did you say?” Danny tried to say, but it was so much less than a whisper. Danny heard a thump, like someone dropping down to sit on a tile floor and the red he saw got brighter.

God, his eyes were so heavy. His lips felt like he had just eaten Elmer’s glue, like he used to do in Kindergarten. When Danny smiled a slight smile, as much as he had the strength to, his lips cracked and he relaxed his face to appease the pain.

Daniel Fenton cracked his eyes. Slowly, sound came back. A ringing gave way to someone screaming, “How could you let this happen? I thought you cared about him.” Someone else bawled, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t want this to happen. Please, I’m so sorry, I love him so much.”

Danny was confused. Did he just walk in on someone's death? He couldn’t have, his back was cold and against the tile floor in… his basement? Who died in his basement?

“Oh, god.” Danny felt his stomach drop to his toes. “Did Tuck get hurt by some of Mom or Dad’s ghost shit?”

The room went silent. Danny pulled his eyes open, worried by what he might see.

“What the fuck was that Samantha,” Jazz had murder in her eyes. “Tell me what that was right now.”

“What was what?” Danny asked. He saw Jazz huddled over something in the middle of the room with Sam and Tucker near her. The body wasn’t Tucker’s.

Danny walked over to Jazz and his friends when Tucker looked his way and screamed as loud and as hard as he was capable of screaming. This spooked Danny who took a step to the side and looked at what was on the ground.

It was him.

Danny was looking at his own body on the floor. His now white hair was singed, his left arm was black, contrasting against his pale skin which had been exposed by a large rip in his not-so-insulated suit. It looked like the hand and half of the arm on the left side of the suit had burned off.

Suddenly the body moved and Danny saw the ceiling and his Sister looking over him. He turned his head and saw two scenes. He was looking at Sam while also looking at the now functional ghost portal with a different set of eyes. Danny moved his head back and was now only looking at his sister again.

Danny attempted to move to a sitting position, coughing droplets of blood when he tensed his muscles.

“Oh, my god.” Jazz breathed a sigh of relief, “Danny! Don’t sit up, here. I’ll help you.”

Jazz sort of dragged, sort of pushed Danny’s body closer to the wall, glaring at Tucker and Sam when they moved to help her. Jazz picked up Danny’s head and sat him against the wall of the Fenton Laboratory basement and inspected his face.

“God, Danny.” Jazz’s voice was soaked with concern. “There’s blood all over this place. Your nose is broken.”

Danny realized he couldn’t feel the ground beneath him the second he felt himself fall an inch and hit the ground. He saw a flash as he noticed a ring of light circling around his waist.

“Sam,” Jazz screamed, “what the fuck? My brother almost dies and you think this is the best fucking photo op to snag?”

“I’m sorry Jazz, I-I,” Sam stuttered, “I saw something.”

Jazz turned her head back to her brother, and gasped. “Danny! Your hair is back to normal!”

Barely audible, Danny mumbled; “myhairwasn’tnormal?”

“It was white,” Sam whisperspoke.

“And your suit went all reverse,” Tucker added at full volume from halfway across the room.

“I taste metal,” Danny stuck his tongue out, it looked like he had just been licking blood off of something.

“Probably from all that blood in your mouth.” Jazz’s forehead was the rocky mountains of concern. “And on your chin, down your shirt, all over the floor. God, Danny. We need to take you to the hospital.”

“No!” Danny and Tucker yelled at the same time.

“I’m fine, I feel fine, watch this!” Danny stood up and quickly fell back down demonstrating how not fine he was.

“Sorry, I just hate hospitals,” Tucker murmured. “I didn’t mean to say that…”

Sam waved a polaroid in the air, then gave it to Jazz.

The picture showed a bloodied Danny on the ground wearing a reverse colored “insulated” suit. It’s just a fucking picture of my almost-dead brother, Jazz thought. Then she saw it. There were two rings of light around his waist that looked like they were revealing the outfit Danny was wearing when he went downstairs. A NASA T-Shirt and blue jeans were peaking through the two circles of light. Jazz looked at Danny again and realized he wasn’t wearing the black version of his ecto suit anymore. It went away with the white of his hair.

“Danny, you’re still going to the hospital with me.” Jazz insisted. “Your nose is broken.”

Danny touched his nose and was immediately met with searing, red hot pain.

“Don’t touch it, idiot!” Jazz smacked Danny’s hand away from his nose. “When a part of your body is broken, that’s not an invitation to touch it!”

Danny looked at Sam and Tucker, scared.

Sam smiled at Danny. “We can talk about it after you go to the hospital. Do you want to have a fucked up nose for the rest of your life?”

Tucker walked closer to Danny and put his hand on Danny’s head. “I’m so fucking happy you’re okay, dude.”

“Can you walk?” Jazz asked as she stood up and reached for Danny’s hand.

Danny grabbed her hand and tried to get up for the second time. He watched his hand disappear from his sister's hand as her grip tightened around nothing. Danny fell back to the floor and screamed at his missing hand before it came back.

“Danny,” Jazz hissed, “we are going to the hospital now.”

Danny stood up on his own and followed his sister up the stairs to her car, parked outside. They drove to the hospital.

#losers lament #Danny Phantom #Danny Fenton #Jazz Fenton #Same Manson #Tucker Foley #Danny Phantom Fanfiction #help i worked so hard on this

[tellmealovestory]

What The Hell

Summary: Dialogue prompt - Put the knife down

Notes: Also posted on my ao3. This was written for @sillyqt​ 1k followers challenge. Congrats again on all the followers!

Warnings: Swear words galore, back at it with the dumbass reader, mentions of smut, implied smut, did I mention the readers a dumbass?

There were a lot of things running through your mind that made sleep impossible. 

The storm raging outside. Heavy, fat rain drops that slammed against your window, wind that howled and shook the ratty frames, the loud claps of thunder that had you jumping each time they rolled across the night sky, the lightning that lit up your small room for brief seconds of a time reminding you just how lonely it could be at night when Bucky was away on a mission.

There were always too many things that could go wrong on those extended missions that left you tossing and turning unable to catch a wink of sleep. While you understood it was his job it didn’t make dealing with the worries over him getting hurt any less easier to handle. 

Rolling onto your back you whined at the mugginess that had settled in your room. The whirring of the small fan that sat in the corner only circulated more hot air doing little to cool you off. 

Outside sirens from an ambulance wailed causing you to wince. As much as you loved this apartment the neighborhood wasn’t the greatest and each time you heard sirens when alone or the creaking of what you were convinced of was someone breaking into your apartment you broke out in hives of worries and what ifs. 

Despite Bucky’s insistence that you move to a better apartment in a safer neighborhood your reluctance to leave the space you had called home since moving to the city had always won out. But laying in bed alone tonight you were beginning to rethink that position when you were convinced you heard your apartment door creaking open.

With a racing heart, shaking breaths and sheets tangled around your feet you sat up in bed tilting your head to the side trying to decipher if the creaking of a door opening was real or if you were imagining it. 

Break-ins weren’t unheard of in the building, but so far you had been lucky enough to never experience one. 

Floorboards creaked under heavy boots.

Shit, shit, shit.

Your phone was sitting on the kitchen counter next to the half empty boxes of Chinese food you had ordered earlier which meant if someone was breaking in you couldn’t even call 9-1-1 for help. 

Bringing your knees to your chest your eyes quickly scanned your darkened room looking for anything to arm yourself with.

Another heavy step, another creaking floorboard.

You understood why Bucky wanted you to move somewhere safer now. 

Think, think, think your mind screamed. With no phone to call for help, no baseball bat to smack whoever was inside your apartment you were fucked. You were about to die. You were about to die a horrible, slow death because you were the idiot in every horror movie who couldn’t manage to keep their phone with them. You were about to die wearing nothing but a tank top and a pair of underwear. You were about to die in a dingy apartment littered with take out containers during the middle of a thunderstorm. Fuck.

Swinging your legs over your bed you winced at the groaning of your worn out mattress. Freezing you sucked in a deep breath only exhaling when your bedroom door didn’t fling open to reveal a seven foot man wearing a hockey mask and holding a giant machete. 

Fuck you really needed to stop watching horror movies if you survived this.

Opening your bedside drawer slowly you rummaged around looking for anything you could use as a weapon, but so far all your fingers had run over was a condom, a vibrator with dead batteries that you were supposed to have changed earlier in the day and something sharp that sliced your finger.

Hissing you pulled your hand out of the drawer as you brought your finger up to your face struggling to inspect it in the darkness of your room. You didn’t dare turn a light on and alert your intruder you were in here. The metallic taste of blood filtered through your nostrils and you wrinkled your nose in distaste. 

Something sharp. Fuck, you really were that idiot in the horror movie who gets killed first for being a dumb bitch. You couldn’t believe you hadn’t thought of this sooner! If you survived this night you were going to spend the rest of the year on your knees giving Bucky Barnes the best blowjobs of his fucking life.

Carefully you dipped your hand back into the drawer. Grasping the handle of the knife he had thrown in there after a particularly kinky night of sex you sighed in relief. It may not have been a phone to call for help, but it was better than nothing. 

On shaky legs you stood up only to freeze when you saw yellow light flooding beneath your door.

Any hopes of the creaking floorboard, of the heavy boots being a product of your overactive imagination flew out the window. Your heart plummeted to your stomach, your hand grew sweaty the handle of the knife nearly slipping out of you grasp. And when the deafening sound of thunder echoed through your room you nearly pissed yourself from fear.

You were really about to die tonight. A million things flashed through your mind. Regrets, unfulfilled promises, moments you would never get to experience, places you would never get to see. Tears filled your eyes, but no matter how much you told yourself to pull it together you couldn’t. You had never imagined dying in your dingy apartment alone.

Taking a shaky step towards your bedroom door you tried to formulate a plan in your mind, but all you could think about was Bucky. The last time you had kissed him, the last time you had held his hand, the last time you had laid curled up in his arms sated after a passionate night together.

But mostly you thought about the last thing you had said to him. It hadn’t been I love you like it usually was. No be careful. No be safe. No come back to me in one piece. No. The last thing you had said to him was he had better plan on spending the next week buried between your thighs putting that long tongue to good use after he been called away on a mission in the middle of swirling his tongue over your swollen clit. 

Closing your eyes you whimpered at the memory. You had spent the day in bed going at it like rabbits. With your legs thrown over his shoulders, sweat dripping down every crevice of your body, his large hands holding your thighs open to him he had lavished your clit with the attention of a man on a mission and fuck had he ever been on a mission. 

Writhing beneath his body your knuckles had been turning white with how tight you had been gripping your bedsheets. Right on the edge of what you were convinced would have been a mind blowing orgasm his phone had gone off and though you had begged him to ignore it, fucking cried that you were so close, so goddamn close and to please, please, please just let you cum the fucker had pulled away with a kiss to your dripping center telling you he couldn’t ignore it and that he’d make it up to when he came back.

It was the last time you had seen him, last time you had talked to him and now you were about to die thinking about the goddamn orgasm you had missed out on. What the hell was wrong with you?

Reaching your bedroom door you hesitantly grasped the doorknob frowning when your sweat soaked hand slipped right off it. Sucking in a deep breath, praying to whoever would listen you twisted the doorknob, wincing as the door squeaked on its hinges. So much for trying to sneak out of here unseen.

Your body moved on its own as your feet shakily carried you out of your bedroom and into the short hallway. A quick glance into the living room appeared to show nothing missing. Swinging your gaze to the kitchen you noticed your takeout boxes had been moved from the counter. What kind of sick fucker broke into someone’s apartment and ate their food? Granted, the food was definitely not edible after having been sitting out on the hot counter for hours, but still. You really were dealing with a monster. With the kitchen, your bedroom, and the living room cleared that only left the bathroom and the spare bedroom. 

The thought of walking in on some freaky Goldilocks killer taking a bath or taking a nap had you shuddering. Tilting your head to the side you closed your eyes listening to the rain, the thunder, the wind, but you didn’t hear any running water and while it didn’t rule out them being in the bathroom you weren’t about to go and check to be positive.

Taking slow, careful steps forward you padded across the living room and to the kitchen in search of your phone. You had left it next to the takeout boxes, but much like the boxes your phone was gone now too. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

Two options. 

You could stay and fight which despite Bucky trying to teach you how had been pretty much a disaster. Sure, you knew the basics, how to kick a guy in the balls, punch him the face, stab him in the eye, but that wasn’t going to do you much good if they got to you first.

The other option was running. Running out of your apartment, into the streets, anywhere but here. But your lack of clothing, the storm, the cut on your finger that had blood dripping down onto your leg was anybody going to take you seriously? And it wasn’t like you knew any of your neighbors who could help you.

Stay or go. 

Gasping at the low creaking of a door opening you crouched down on the kitchen floor holding the knife out in front of you. The apartment door was only a few feet to the right of you, but you were doubtful you could make it when footsteps echoed closer through your small apartment. The heavy steps matched the frantic beating of your heart. Sobs threatened to spill from your quivering lips. Slapping your free hand over your mouth your only hope was that whoever was in your apartment creeping closer couldn’t hear your muffled sobs. 

Adrenaline pumped through your veins and in a split second decision of stupidity or bravery you jumped up. Scrambling across the kitchen floor in your bare feet you came face to face with your intruder. 

Raising the knife your hand shook, your breath came out in heavy pants, your eyes were wide, your heart thundered and when lightning lit up your kitchen you let out a blood curdling scream as you lifted the knife and sliced through the air in a blind attempt to strike your attacker.

Like a scene straight out of a bad eighties horror movie where once again you were playing the dumb victim doomed to die your aim was off. Embarrassingly so, yet that didn’t stop you from trying again as you took a step forward slashing through the air screaming. If you couldn’t stab him maybe your screams would scare him off or at the very least alert your useless neighbors that you needed assistant.

“Y/N!”

He knew your name. Oh god. The killer in your apartment knew your name. 

Screaming at the top of your lungs you clutched the knife. Turning on your heels to run you yelped when a thick hand wrapped around your wrist holding you to the spot.

“Y/N!”

Blindly kicking at his shins, thrashing in his arms, you screamed, wildly waving the knife around in the air.

“Put the knife down!”

Out of breath with tears running down your face and scared shitless you watched helplessly as he grabbed the knife tossing it across the kitchen with such ease it was enough for you to stop your thrashing and your screaming.

As your eyes began to focus and a flash of lightning lit up your kitchen and the intruders face your jaw dropped in shock. 

“What the fuck are you doing!?” You yelled. 

Slamming your free hand against his chest repeatedly the adrenaline that had been pumping through your veins only moments before dissipated to surprise followed by anger.

"Shh it’s just me you gotta calm down, Y/N I didn’t mean to scare you, but you gotta calm down."

Ignoring his words you tried to yank your wrist free from his grasp, but he only tightened his hold. It was probably a good thing because you were about two seconds away from passing out. “You broke into my apartment!”

“I live here.”

Huffing you had no rebuttal to that, but that didn’t stop you from blurting out the first thing that came to mind no matter how ridiculous it sounded.

“Why were you stomping around like some serial killer? Huh Mr. I live here too and think it’s cool to give my girlfriend a heart attack!”

“I wasn’t stomping around,” he snapped, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What are you doin’ waving my knife around like a maniac? You could've hurt yourself!”

“You left it in my bedside drawer! I didn’t have a choice I thought you were a murderer and my only options of defense was this or a dead vibrator!”

Breathing heavily you glared at him in the darkness amazed at the fact that no one had bothered to check on you after the screaming match that had occurred. Then again it wasn’t like your neighbors knew you. 

"What are you doing here? The mission a-and you always get me up when you come hone why didn’t you wake me?"

Loosening his grip on your wrist he pulled you close his hand going to the back of your head as he quietly shushed you. It was unusual for him to be taking care of you after a mission usually it was the other way around with you bandaging him up, asking him if he was okay, giving him space whatever the mood called for depending on how bad the mission had gone.

Though you were wrapped in his arms in what should have made you feel safe and secure your body shook like a leaf, ugly sobs wracking your frame over the what ifs that could have happened. Snot and tears stained his shirt by the time you finally pulled away.

"I could have hurt you, Bucky! What if i had stabbed you? You could have died!"

Lightning illuminated the room again lighting his face up and though it may have been your eyes playing a cruel trick on you you swore you saw a hint of a smirk on his lips.

"Doll, the way you were waving that knife around the only person you were gonna hurt was you."

Yanking free from his grasp you crossed your arms over your chest. 

"I’m glad you find this funny James!" You hissed, anger and fear lacing your words. 

Storming into the bathroom you flipped the light on flinching at not only the brightness but the reflection in the mirror. Wide, crazy eyes stared back at you. Your hair was a matted mess with sweat, your face burning hot with tears and snot drying on your nose. You looked like shit, but found it difficult to care about that when you almost fucking died tonight. The strap of your tank top slid down your arm as you forcefully turned the hot water on. Reaching for a washcloth you ran it under the water ignoring the stare of Bucky as he stood in the doorframe.

"I’m sorry," he started, stepping into the small room before taking a seat on the edge of the bathtub. Yanking his shirt over his head he tossed it in the hamper staring at your reflection in the mirror. "I knew it was late and it was selfish, but I needed to see you I figured you’d be sleepin’ so I was gonna crash in the spare room till morning. I really didn’t mean to scare you, doll.”

"Yeah, well you did," you mumbled like a petulant child. Turning to face him you frowned inspecting the various cuts and bruises that littered his face and chest. Gently lifting the washcloth to his face you wiped away the dried flecks of blood that dotted the corner of his mouth. Had you been in a better mood you would have made a joke about him being a vampire. 

"I’m sorry", he tried again. Resting his large hands on your hips he pulled you closer so you were standing in between his thick thighs as he laid his head on your stomach. 

Carding your fingers through his hair you closed your eyes. Your heart was still thundering beneath your chest and you were still convinced you were two seconds away from passing out, but as you stood between his legs listening to the rain and the wind pound against the windows for the first tine tonight you breathed an easy sigh.

"You don’t know how scared i was," you mumbled, choking on a sob. "And you know the worst part? I couldn’t stop thinking about how i didn’t even say i love you before you left. I could have died tonight and my last words weren’t even I love you." Choking on a strangled cry you collapsed against his bruised and battered chest the events of the past hour taking their toll on you as your knees gave out.

Holding tight to you he ran his hands down your back, against the back of your head all the while cooing that he had you and you were safe and he would never let any harm come to you no matter what.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that sobbing and eternally grateful in his arms that you were okay, that he was safe, that you were both going to be okay.

Kissing the top of your head, your forehead, your cheeks, the corner of your mouth he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. It was sweet and loving, the kind of kiss that was meant as an apology for a myriad of mistakes made by the both of you, the kind of kiss that sent your heart fluttering, your knees to shake, your stomach to fill with butterflies, the kind of kiss that if it could talk would whisper nothing but I love you, I love you, I love you.

But it wasn’t enough for you. Sliding your hands to his chest you gripped his hair yanking his head back as you kissed him hungrily. It was a desperate kiss, a sloppy kiss, a needy kiss, but he got the hint, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist as he roughly shoved his tongue into your mouth. Groaning he tore his lips away from yours only to kiss his way down your neck. "Never meant to scare you," he mumbled. "But maybe we should start those self defense classes back up."

Nodding your head at his kisses, at his apologies you never wanted him to stop, but his words had you frowning. 

"I had it under control."

But you didn’t. Had he been an actual killer like you had originally thought you would have been dead in a minute.

Chuckling he stroked your hip. "I love you, but you didn’t have anything under control." 

"Yeah, well," you sputtered. "Had you woken me up none of this would have happened!"

"I know," he sighed, regret tinging his words.

Staring down at his cloudy blue eyes, his tanned chest full of well defined muscles, those glorious thighs you quirked your lips up. "You could always make it up to me," you started, your voice sultry as your fingers stroked the back of his neck.

Catching on quickly he quirked his eyebrow up. 

"You did promise to spend the next week between my thighs... what do you say we make it two weeks and I’ll think about forgiving you?"

"You'll think about it? Honey, you'll forgive me after the first orgasm," he promised.

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

Squealing as he stood up and dragged you to your room you quickly forgot about the horror, the worries, the anxiety you had been through as a different kind of adrenaline filled your veins when he pushed you down onto your bed ready to make you scream for an entirely different set of reasons. 

#1ksillyqtchallenge #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #my writing

[stanbillyhargrove]

Demons - The Rewrite

Chapter 18: Tell Me Why The Fuck I Feel So Empty

TW: suicide attempt

“Stevie. I need you, I know you’re mad at me and I don't deserve your help but please. Please, Stevie.”

Except Steve didn’t answer his phone, hadn’t been home or just ignored it so I left a sobbing message instead. I’d been alone for weeks after Billy punched Steve’s face in. Weeks since I had thrown myself over Steve to protect him from Billy’s wrath and taken a punch to the back. The deep purple bruise had barely started fading, the sharp pain every time I moved a stark reminder of what had happened.

"Please pick up."

~

After Billy had left I couldn’t stop sobbing, my chest heaving as I curled around Steve’s shoulders. Steve’s lean arms wrapped around me with a groan and held me until I calmed down a bit. Then I’d helped him off the floor, biting my lip to stop the cry of pain from moving and led him to the bathroom to carefully wash the blood off his face. He sat on the edge of the tub, hissing and wincing while I tried to clean him up but saying nothing.

~

"I'm so sorry...I just need you to know that."

~

When I cleaned all the blood off him that I could I turned to the sink to wash out the cloth, eyeing Steve in the mirror.

“I think you should go,” he’d finally ground out.

“Steve, you might need a hospital. Your nose..you could have a concussion..”

He didn’t look up from the floor, just clenched his fists against his legs, “just. Go home, Cat. Please.”

He didn’t moved while I packed up my stuff, grabbed Rocky and left. He just sat silently in the bathroom. I’d been by myself after that, Billy and Steve both avoiding me, unwilling to talk about what happened.

~

"Love you, Stevie."

I just wanted to feel something, anything, or maybe it was that I wanted it to stop.

The all consuming emptiness.

That’s how I ended up laying on my bathroom floor, blood pooling across the floor from my arms. I’m so cold, I can’t stop shivering even with a belly full of burning alcohol. It burned like fire in my gut but my body is so fucking cold.

I can hear the phone ringing next to me, but it seemed like a dream.

Far away, unattainable.

I heard Steve calling me, his panicked voice muffled.

Buried under all the other voices screeching at me.

Things came into focus when he burst into the bathroom, “oh fuck! Cat! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He panicked, stumbling across the floor to grab at my bleeding arms.

His hands flew to my face, shakily smearing blood across my cheek.

It's so warm.

“Look at me, can you hear me? I got you, it’s okay.”

Steve grabbed my shoulders, pulled me up to lean against the side of the tub and grabbed towels from the cupboard to wrap around my arms. I couldn’t look at anything but the growing red spots on Steve’s knees.

“Oh god, come on, Cat. Look at me, please. You’re okay, I got you, I’m here.”

I tried to look at him but it was hard to see past the tears in my eyes.

“Stevie,” I cried, words slurring, “I’m sorry. I...I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. Don’t be sorry,” he grit his teeth, his jaw clenching as he looked at me. “I’m sorry, I was so fucking mad and hurt and…I shouldn’t…” hot tears poured down his cheeks, “you probably need stitches," he murmured, trying to stand up.

“No, Stevie, please,” I pleaded, gripping him tight, "please. You can't."

Don't leave me.

Not yet.

Steve stared at me for a moment, sighed and turned to grab the first aid kit from under the sink, clenching his jaw tight. With shaking fingers, he placed a bunch of my thick white bandages over my arms and wrapped them tightly, cursing under his breath the whole time. After finishing the bandages, Steve turned and grabbed a cloth to wipe the blood off of us while I sat still, quiet tears rolling down my cheeks.

“Jesus, you’re so damn cold,” he hissed, hand on my clammy skin.

His fingers were so warm on my face. Left scorching trails behind when he took them away.

Steve scooped me up effortlessly and walked to my room, setting me on my bed before rummaging through my clothes to find a hoodie and sweatpants. Gingerly, he helped me pull off my bloody clothes and took the opportunity to look at the bruise on my back, gritting his teeth as he ran his thumb over the purple spreading across my ribs.

“That fucker..”

“Steve,” I whispered, “it was an accident.”

The bruise. My phone call.

Everything.

He pressed lightly around the edges of the bruise, making me hiss and flinch away from his touch, “is anything broken?”

I shook my head, “don’t know.”

He huffed and helped dress me in the clothes he’d grabbed and put me in bed, covering me with the thick comforter.

“I’ll be right back, don't move."

I could hear him go to the bathroom, could hear him choking on tears while cleaning up the blood. Heard towels and clothes being thrown into the washing machine, the lid slamming shut. Heard muffled crying as Steve walked around the house before returning in his boxers with a glass of juice, helping me to sit against my headboard before handing it to me.

“Here. The sugar will help. You’re probably going to feel like shit for a couple days though.”

His glassy, bruised eyes burned into me as he watched me sip. The dark purple splotches that spread from his nose around his eyes that Billy had put there accentuated how tired he looked, like he hadn’t slept in days.

“You’ve lost control,” he sat next to me on the bed, deflating.

“Stevie-”

“No. Cat, I can’t, I can’t fucking do this anymore. What will I do if you kill yourself? I don’t want to go to my best friend’s fucking funeral."

My chest felt empty, raw like my heart had been ripped out, I’d felt that way for days. Like I was just an empty shell walking around. But I could feel the guilt stab through me like a hot knife, my chin wavering as a new wave of tears streamed down my face.

Steve's POV

“No. Cat, I can’t, I can’t fucking do this anymore. What will I do if you kill yourself? I don’t want to go to my best friend’s fucking funeral."

She was quiet, her chin wobbling a little when I glanced over.

I can't.

Can't go to her fucking funeral.

Can't see her lying still in a pine box, makeup caked thick to hide the discoloration of her skin. Painted to look asleep. Flowers everywhere to hide the smell of being sucked dry and pumped full of chemicals.

A room full of tear streaked faces and broken hearts.

I can't.

"Can you fucking say something?!" I snapped.

"What do you want me to say?"

That you'll get better. That we'll be happy.

That you love me.

"That you'll try."

She sniffed and shrugged, "I can't."

I scoffed and stood up off the bed, "you can't even give me that? Do you realize how much this hurts me? To see you trying to kill yourself? How can you keep doing that to me and not care?"

Cat's eyes snapped to meet mine, embers burning when she spat acid, "oh I'm sorry, I didn't realize how much my issues affected you."

"Really? You're getting mad at me right now? Do you not realize how this feels for me?"

"God!" She screamed, "I don't care! Not everything is about you, Steve!"

"No! Everything is about you! My whole fucking life revolves around you now! Keeping you alive! That's on me! That's on my fucking shoulders, Cat!"

"I didn't ask you to! If it's so bad, just let me die!" She stood and tried to push me backwards out of her room, eyes feral as she raged, "I don't need you, I don't want you here! Nobody wants you! Just get out!"

I stumbled out of her doorframe, words dying on the tip of my tongue.

Nobody wants you.

The words that echoed when things got too quiet.

The words I tried so hard to bury.

A harsh truth. My parents don't want me, Nancy doesn't want me, others only want my title.

Nobody wants me.

"I'm done. Don't fucking call me again," I growled as I turned to leave.

I left her there, alone, even though everything in me was screaming not to go.

 I'd spent more nights wrapped around her then I spent by myself. It was strange to sleep alone again. My sleep was restless and filled with nightmares.

Nightmares where I was running through a sea of people, struggling to break free of them. Where I knew Cat was in danger but I could never find her until it started raining. Cold water poured from the sky, dissolving the people I'd been pushing through until I was face to face with Cat.

"Why didn't you save me?" She'd cry.

The rain turned to acidic blood, burning me and staining her skin as I watched her shrinking before my eyes. Skin stretched tight over jutting bones until it burst, leaving jagged rips in her skin.

"Why didn't you save me?" She'd cry again.

"I'm trying!" I'd scream.

But she always dissolved into ash, floating away into nothing.

Other nightmares where I was walking on a beach, surrounded by eery silence even though waves crashed angrily next to me. The moonlight cast a silver shine off the top of the water but there still wasn't enough light for me to see further than what was right in front of me. And then a flash of lightning and suddenly, I could hear everything. The roar of the water, the sand sliding under my feet, a mournful siren wailing in the distance, it was too much, too loud to think. I was running, feet sinking deep into the sand, running as fast as I could but going nowhere. Then another flash of lightning and everything settled. Crashing waves stilled, frozen in the air. The wailing didn't stop though, just became quieter and more haunting. My feet were stuck in the sand when I saw her, washed up on the beach. Cat's pale skin had started to turn blue. I struggled, trying to get to her, but the more I fought, the deeper I sunk in the sand. I tried to claw my way out, desperate to save her, but my arms were swallowed up. The sand consumed me until my head was barely above it and I couldn't move anymore. Another flash of lightning and the waves came down on her, sweeping her away. In an instant, she was gone, carried off into the dark. My screaming only stopped when sand filled my mouth.

I started sleeping on the couch, with the TV playing. It was squishy and uncomfortable but the noise helped to keep the nightmares at bay a little bit. It also helped distract me when I jolted awake, made me feel less alone.

Billy’s POV

I had found Cat at Steve Harrington’s house and couldn’t stop myself from putting my fist through his face and, accidentally into her. I’d felt like absolute garbage after I heard her scream, felt her small bones give under my knuckles. I’d driven myself out to our spot in the forest and smoked and sobbed and shouted myself hoarse, trying to drown out the echo of her scream.

It hadn't worked.

When I returned home, Max had come and sat beside me in my room and waited for me to start talking.

“I found her,” I muttered, voice hoarse and scratchy.

“I thought you’d be happier about that.”

I huffed, “she was at Harrington’s, Max. Tommy called last night cause she needed a ride home and I couldn’t, couldn’t fucking go get her and she went home with fucking Harrington!”

Max winced when my voice raised, “but it's okay, right? You guys love each other.”

“Not anymore,” I grumbled, “there’s no coming back from what I did.”

Max looked at me and followed my eyes to my bruised knuckles, “Billy…what did you do?”

@charmed-asylum

#billy hargrove #stranger things #fanfic #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fic #stranger things fanfiction #billy hargrove series #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington #billy hargrove fanfic #fanfiction

[unreachablevoice]

Oneshot? Daminette Oneshot!

OKay, you see, I’ve been reeaaallly wanting to write about people crying for a while now for some reason (don’t ask me why I legit don’t even know). So I thought, why not make a oneshot? So BOOM! here it is! (even though I should've been writing my other Daminette and/or Maribat fics)

Anyway, I just learned that writing about people crying SUCKS! Like, why is it so effing hard???? Why did no one warn me about this??? (I mean I should’ve seen it coming either way because EVeRYTHING ABOUT WRITING is hard). So I am very sorry in advance if this isn’t as good as it... whatever it is??? hahahaha because I gotta tell you, I just did this on a whim because WRITER’S BLOCK! THAT DUDE IS SO ANNOYING!!!

Oh and you know, I’m not sure if this is considered angst? Angst with Happy Ending?... So I just researched about it and asked ma chérie belle and she said yes? But I’m still not sure so I’m just going to tag it as one.

Anywho, umm the first part of my Daminette Age Gap AU just received 400 loves (that’s what I want to call it cuz I think it’s cute leave me be!) so let’s just say that the sole purpose of this oneshot is to satisfy my craving for crying stuff and to celebrate those 400 loves (thank god for convenient coincidences) that I received from you wonderful peeps!!!!

Enjoy~!

Warning: Swearing and cuss words are present. Please read with caution, thank you!

I’m Not Scared Of Anything, But Losing You Would Be Terrifying

Cruising down the alleyway with his Father right beside him in his Batmobile, the sirens of police cars rang in his ears.  

They had received a call from Commissioner Gordon not too long ago, saying how Scarecrow had escaped from Arkham and is causing havoc in a café somewhere. It would’ve been fine to just leave it with the GCPD and a few from their team but some reported that he was making a new concoction of his Fear Gas. Something much more intense.

Skidding to a stop, he takes off his helmet and walks to where his Father and the police were conversing.  

“Robin.” the Dark Knight nods to him as he places himself next to his looming figure.

Crossing the police tape and getting inside the café, Robin comes face to face with Scarecrow. A gun in his hand, pointing at the hostages as he laughs maniacally.  

“Scarecrow!” Batman calls from beside him, “Enough is enough! Let them go!”  

The villain throws his head back and laughs loudly, earning a snarl from both of the vigilantes.

“You see, dear Batman,” —Scarecrow raises his gun— “I’ve been wanting to try my new experiment.” he smirks at them and cocks his gun with his other hand.  

“And you’re just the right person for the job.”

Not a second after, his goons began ambushing them.  

Three goons began to circle him with their guns in hand and a demented smile on their face. If he hadn’t seen Scarecrow command them himself, he might’ve thought that the Joker was the one leading the attack.

With quick work with his Batarangs, he swiftly flings their guns out of their grasps.  

Seeing as how they’re disarmed; one goon throws a punch to his face. Robin’s hand immediately shots out and blocks his punch and twists it in a direction he was sure was not possible an arm could handle.

The goon screams in anguish, which gives Robin a momentum to punch him square in the face with his free hand and watches as the goon's nose drip with blood.  

Dropping the now passed out goon, he turns to the other two goons and kneels down and pulls out a Bo Staff.  

Letting out a battle cry, he lunges at them and whacks them to their side, which throws them to a few tables. The sound of cracks bringing satisfaction to his ears.

Finishing the goons, he turns to Scarecrow and sees him still sporting that smug smirk on his face. What’s his motive? Why is he still smiling even though they’re practically beating up his henchmen?

They briefly catch each other’s eyes and the villain’s smile grows even wider.

Robin scowls at the villain and readies himself in a battle stance.

Without even having the chance to take a step forward, Scarecrow raises his gun and shoots at his direction.  

Quickly sidestepping the bullet, he looks back at the villain, “You should really work on your aim.”

Scarecrow smirks at him mockingly, “Was I really aiming for you?”

What?

He looks behind him and sees a tank of Scarecrow’s Fear Gas punctured by his bullet.

Holy shit.

His eyes widen and he reaches to his utility belt to pull out a gas mask, but before he was able to put it on his face, a goon tackles him to the ground. Causing him to loosen his grip on the said mask.

“Fuck!” he mutters as he tries to wrestle free from the goon’s hold. “Get off me!”  

As he struggles to be free, he feels the mist cloud his vision. Blurring his surroundings and making everything indistinguishable.

“Get up!” he hears someone yell at his ears and the goon that was holding onto him disappears.  

He abruptly stands and closes his eyes shut. Clenching his jaw, he reminds himself that none of what he’ll see is real. To dismiss everything and pay it no mind because they are not real.

His breath becomes ragged and his heart thunders against his chest as he hears voices around him.  

‘None of this is real!’ he chants to himself and covers his ears.

The sounds slowly began dissipating and everything went quiet. Too quiet.  

“Damian!” an angelic voice suddenly cuts through the silence and calls out to him.

‘Habibti?’

He slowly and warily opens his eyes and is immediately met with a different environment.

Gone was the café he was previously in; he was now in a park surrounded by trees and some benches on the side. The sun was also shining brightly and the birds were chirping. Everything seemed perfect. Too perfect.

He looks down at himself and sees that he’s no longer wearing his Robin uniform but regular civilian clothing.  

‘What am I doing here?’

“Listen to me!” the sweet voice calls out to him again.

“Wha—?”  

“Look at me!” the voice shouts again and he feels his every being shake. Making him lose his balance and fall on the floor.  

“Marinette?” he calls out and looks around. Where was she?

Whipping his head around, he is immediately met with a mop of blue-black hair.

Relief floods his whole being as he stands up and goes over to her, “Hey, I’m here,” he smiles and reaches for her hand.

“No!” Marinette shouts and slaps his hand away. Only then did he notice that her comforting gaze had turned into a sharp glare. Her beautiful blue bell orbs gone as a dark sapphire blue filled with anger replaced it. Why was she looking at him like that? Had he done something wrong?

“H-Habibti—?”

“Stop calling me that!” he winces at her tone and Marinette’s scowl deepens. Her hands ball into fists that he was afraid she’d cut her skin with her nails.  

“W-What are you—?” he hastily reaches out to her once more.

“SHUT UP!” she shouts and everything shook again. Her face, still sporting that scowl, looks at him with disgust.

“I can’t believe I ever dated you,” she spat and steps back.

Damian recoils as though he’s been slapped in the face. He feels a twinge in his chest as though his heart has been pinched and punctured. No, please. She's the only thing that stayed in his life, don’t let her go now. Please.

“Marinette,” he calls as his hands reach out to her again, in to which Marinette avoided in distaste.  

Seeing how angry and disgusted she looked at him made something inside of him shatter. Was he that horrible to make her not want him touch to her? Was he that disgusting?

“Mari—”

“I can’t even stand to look at you right now.” he flinches as though he just received a punch to his gut. He wanted nothing more than to scoop her in his arms and cry and ask what he’d done wrong, but he can’t do that when she’s sneering at him with abhorrence.  

“I hate you, Damian,” she glowers in that tone that he hated so much. The one that he never wanted to be directed at him. But now it was.

He drops down to his knees and crawls to her feet, “I’m sorry,” he cries out.

Tears began to pool at the corner of his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he repeats in a strangled voice. But Marinette won’t even look at him anymore.  

“W-Whatever it was, I’m sorry,” he choked out as he pleaded at her feet.  

Marinette kicked at his hand away and seethed, “Don’t touch me,” she hissed as though his touch was dirty. He was dirty.

“I don’t ever want to see you again,” he blanches at her statement. His hands shook as big blobs of tears drip down his face. His heart beating sporadically as his ears rang with how everything seems to sound louder.

“Plea—”

“We’re through.”  

Everything felt numb. He couldn’t feel anything, couldn’t hear anything. Just that phrase repeating itself over and over again in his head. More tears began flowing down his face and he felt like he could drown, like he couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t believe that he’d one day hear those words. That those pink lips, those very same lips that he would kiss senselessly, would say that to him.

Marinette glares at him one last time and walks away, leaving him with his despair and depression eating him up.

He had always wished that this day would never come. But not all wishes come true. And now, he’s watching as the girl of his dreams, the love of his life, his girlfriend for four years leaves him. Leaves him and never comes back.

“P-Please,” he sobs as he reaches out to her disappearing form. “I promise, I’ll do better. Please, just don’t leave me.”  

He stands up and attempts to run after her. But he couldn’t. Hands were holding onto him and stopping him from running after the bluenette. Feeling like the whole world was against it. Like they wanted to see him suffer.

“No!” he shouts and thrashes around, trying to get the hands, that bound him to where he stood, off. Why were they so against it? So against him? Did the world really not want him to be happy?

“Please,” he wails and just stands there, letting his tears fall as the world takes away the only thing that made him feel free.  

He stood there and broke down as he watched his love disappear from his world; from his life. He cries out and screams shamelessly as he mourns for her dying love for him. As he hears and feels his own heart break from her rejection.

And he feels it. Feels their stares. Feels the whole world taunting him on how he just lost the only person who’d stayed by his side and accepted him. Making fun of how they knew he couldn’t do anything about it. How he was powerless.

He shuts his eyes tight and slides to the ground, wishing that this was all just a dream...

No.

This is not a dream. Because dreams are beautiful.  

This is a nightmare.

As he sits there and cries for Marinette, he feels a small prick on the back of his neck. And another. And a third. Then the slight cloudiness of his mind disappears as everything went black.  

————————

Fluttering his eyes open, Damian is met with a white ceiling and warmness on his face as the sunlight crept through the window.  

He lets out a groan and rubs the side of his head.  

‘Where am I?’

Roaming his eyes to check where he was, a flash of recognition comes across his green orbs. He was in his room. How?  

A soft click resounded from the door and captures his attention as a blue-black blur emerges, seeming to be whispering with something at the door.

‘What’s going on?’

He rubs at his eyes and groans again. Everything was bleary and his mouth felt rough and dry. What was he doing here? Back in his room? Wasn’t he at a café before?

“Dami?” he flinches at the voice and feels a warm sensation on his forehead.  

‘What is this?’

Damian reaches up to the warm... thing on his forehead and grasps it, trying to feel what it was. Was it... a hand? Why was there a hand touching his forehead? Wasn't he alone in his room?

Furrowing his eyebrows, he looks up to see a black—kind of blue—blob?... What the fuck?! Wha—What is this? What exactly is he seeing right now?

He raises his arm and tries to grab at the blueish black blob. And by grab, he meant fight. He was fighting to get the hand on his forehead off. Fighting to reach for the blue-black blob.

“Dove, calm down,” the blob speaks as it holds on to both of his hands to steady them. “It’s just me.”

Suddenly, his eyesight began clearing. The blurry things that he was seeing were no more, everything began getting clearer.  

The blue-black blob that he was trying to fight (and he was definitely not losing) was finally turning comprehensible.

His eyes widen at the thing—correction, person in front of him. His breath hitching and his heart beating against his chest as he stares at those familiar blue bell eyes.

“Habibti?”  

Marinette smiles softly at him. That same smile she always used to tell him that everything is all right. That smile that always seemed to make him feel calm, no matter the situation.  

“Yes, it’s me.”

Damian chokes out a sob and feels his tears pour down his cheeks again. He reaches out to her and buries his face on her chest, trying to relish the feeling as he was afraid that everything—that this might just be a dream.  

“Oh, dear.” he hears her mutter and feels her hand pat his head and smoothen his dark locks of hair. And it eased him a little. Made him feel that he was not hallucinating and that he was safe.  

“I heard what happened,” she says in that tone, that voice that sounds so soft and caring that it made him cry harder. “Your brothers said that you inhaled Scarecrow’s new concoction of Fear Toxin and that it was so strong, they had to triple the dosage of the antidote.”

Marinette continues to rub circles on his back and cradle him back and forth as he continues to cry. Making him feel like he was a child, safe in his beloved's arms.  

“I wish I could have been there,” she whispers and holds him tighter. Something that made him feel safe and away from the world, even if her arms were dainty and delicate. “Could have helped you.”

Damian feels his emotions and cries come back tenfold as he remembers what he saw when he was still influenced by the Fear Toxin. How hurt and devastated he was. How his whole world fell apart.  

“I-I thought—” he hiccups, “—you were going to leave me.” he sobs harder and feels the spot on her shirt where he was crying go wet.

“No.” she pulls away from him just a bit and looks at his face, “I will never leave you.” her voice so raw with emotion, so sincere that it made him cry and thank whoever was up there that they are together.

She reaches up to his face and caresses his cheek, “I love you.” she smiles and kisses his forehead. Her lips so soft against his skin that he sometimes wondered if he just so much as to touch it the wrong way, would it tear open and bleed a pretty red color?

“I love you too.” he croaks out as he feels his voice go hoarse with all the crying. God, if his brothers could see him now, they’d for sure tease him for the rest of his life.

————————

OMAKE: 

Marinette – *is lying down with Damian tucked in her arms* Wanna tell me about it?

Damian – ...It was terrifying.

Marinette – I thought you said you were fearless?

Damian – *pouting* I am! But that was seriously horrifying!

Marinette – Don’t you mean SCAREy?

Damian – UGH

Marinette – HAHAHAHA XD

Damian – You have got to stop hanging out with Grayson

————————

Edit: Okay, I forgot that I was suppose to tag people.. sorry ^^; and uh I’m still not sure on how to do this whole tagging thing so I’m sorry if I missed some people 

Tags:

@thornalchemist23

@abrx2002

@k-poplunardreams

@joejoejodee

#maribat au #damianette #dc x ml #damimari #maridami #damian x marinette #ml crossover #daminette #marinette x damian #dc x miraculous #maribat #damian wayne x marinette dupain cheng #ml x dc #mlb x dc #marinette x batfam #angst with a happy ending #dc x mlb

[thesleepiesthufflepuff]

Hiya babe, could you do #19 from the prompts as Drarry? (I don’t know if this is the right place to ask you 😂😂)

I can’t believe you sent me an ask you moron I love you so much

*

Draco rapidly wove his way in between the looming trees, sucking as much breath as he could into his overworked lungs, and hot, stinging tears bore their way down his reddened cheeks. The thicket of trees were becoming harder to avoid, branches gouging his cheeks as he flew by. The taste of stale blood lingered on his tongue from biting his cheek, and stray sticks bit into his passerby ankles.

“Draco!” Harry shouted from somewhere behind him, only spurring Draco to move faster.

 A cluster of crows jumped off the crest of the trees, startled by the sudden noises, and burst into the dusk-filled, pale blue sky. Draco felt the odd combination of hot, sticky sweat drying on his skin from the cold mid-March wind.

“Draco! Please stop!” Harry’s voice called out again against the stillness of the Forbidden Forest. 

“Get away from me!” Draco screamed, pushing forward. 

He thought about turning around -- he really did. The thought of someone else’s pity, however, was enough to deter him from doing so. 

Just as he had started to pick up pace again, his ankle rolled on an uneven piece of land. This sent him sprawling across the forest floor, rolling to a stop at the base of a thick tree trunk covered in moss. He laid there, in a crumpled heap, too broken to move. 

“Fuck. Fuck! Draco?” Harry asked, kneeling down beside him. “Merlin, you’re bleeding everywhere.”

“Piss off,” Draco mumbled through a mouthful of tears and crimson blood. He scooted as far away from Harry as he could.

Harry held his hands up, as if to signal that he was surrendering. “Okay. Alright. I won’t come near you. But please, Draco, just talk to me.”

Draco let out a dry laugh. “You want me to talk to you? Alright. Fine. How about I start with the fact that McGonagall just informed me that the dementors kissed my father in his cell? This had apparently been planned for months, but no one bothered to bloody tell me!” 

Harry stared at him, blinking. “Shit, Draco.”

“Thank you, Harry. I see you’re as articulate as ever,” Draco spat, wiping his running nose on the ripped arm of his robes. “You don’t get it, do you? I didn’t even get to say goodbye to my father before he was dragged off to Azbakan. And sure, he did some awful things, but I still love him.”

Draco let out a painful wail, sobbing into the open air. As he knelt in the mud, he buried his head in his hands -- his shoulders shaking with each throbbing cry. 

They stayed like that for several minutes -- Draco sobbing and Harry watching him from afar. The only sound, other than Draco’s cries, were that of a barn owl screeching above the treeline.

When Draco heard the soft crunches of underbrush as Harry moved closer to him, he didn’t stop it, exhaustion having hit him. He let himself slump into Harry’s warm arms, his head resting on his chest. Draco could feel the quickened pace of Harry’s heartbeat from all of the running against his cheek. He closed his eyes, and Harry held him tighter.

“I’m so sorry, Draco. I honestly don’t know what to say. I’m not sure there’s anything I can say. Just … I’m right here,” Harry murmured, resting his head on top of Draco’s.

“I can’t believe he’s gone. I just really would have liked a goodbye,” Draco whispered softly into the evening air that was slowly turning to night. 

Harry kissed the top of his ashen hair, rocking their two bodies in a soothing rhythm. “What if you said goodbye to him now?”

Draco paused. “What, now?”

“Yeah. Now.”

“What’s the point? He’s dead,” Draco stated, faltering on the last word.

Harry sighed. “The point is that there are few things in this world that are definite, one of them being the love you carry in that heart of yours. You’ve still got a chance to say goodbye, so say it.”

Draco blinked up at Harry, their eyes meeting. “Will you help me?”

“Always.”

#Rose: do you actually enjoy angst? #Me: duh its my favorite #drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #draco x harry #harry x draco #drarry drabble #drarry fanfiction #tw death

[carol-effing-danvers]

knock me the fuck out (i dare ya, babe), finale

Weep with me tears of joy and fulfillment for this soft boy and his cuddly boyfriend.

i have some more thoughts about this universe that i may or not get to, but they aren't really relevant to the story i wanted to tell here, so those will have to be for another tale :D

part one, part two, part three

(if you’d prefer to read this in Ao3′s format, click here)

Billy is deliciously warm, deliciously relaxed and deeply asleep when the phone rings on the table beside the bed. He gives a displeased grunt and buries his face into the pillow as Steve rolls away from him to pick up the call, hoarsely croaking “’ello?” There’s a pause as he listens to the caller, then surprises Billy by tapping him on the shoulder. “For you, Billy.”

What the fuck? He mumbles a confused “Hello?”

“I’m so sorry.” Max sounds as tired as he is, maybe more. “But Lauren refuses to go to sleep – I told her that you’d be back in the morning, but it’s already almost midnight, and the more tired she is, the more upset she gets. Can you please talk to her for just a few minutes?”

“Yeah,” he slurs. “’a course. Lemme get up first so we ain’t talking in Steve’s ear while he’s tryin’ to sleep.”

“Oh my god,” Max says miserable and guilty, repeating “I’m so sorry, Billy.”

“No, no, no – it’s okay,” Gently, he closes the door behind him, thankful that Steve owns a cordless phone and trying not to walk into a wall. “I shoulda knew she’d bug out if I didn’t come home.”

Max murmurs “Lauren, Uncle Billy wants to talk to you.”

His whole heart breaks – Lulu is sucking in air hard, sobbing quietly. Poor Max must’ve been trying to get her to sleep for hours. “Hey, my girl. Why won’t you let Mommy tuck you in?”

“Wh-wh-why did you leave?!” she wails, sorrow all renewed.

“I didn’t leave you, baby. I’m having a sleepover with my friend, I’ll be back tomorrow. Mommy told you that, right?”

In a tiny voice, Lulu replies, “Yes.”

“I’m never gonna leave you without saying goodbye, Lulu,” he says softly. “I promise. Who’s my girl?”

“I-I am,” she hiccups, but she sounds a few shades calmer now.

“That’s right. And it’s gonna snow tomorrow, so I thought I’d take my girl out to make a snowman,” he says solemnly. “But we can’t do that if you’re too tired to play outside, Lulu. Can you lay down and close your eyes for me?”

“Don’t hang up!” she says, a bit frantic, and Billy feels another tug on his heartstrings.

“Won’t hang up, baby. Close your eyes for me and lay down. Okay? Lulu, skip to my Lu. Lulu, skip to my Lu. Lulu, skip to my Lu. Skip to my Lu, my darlin’…”

He has to stay with her, and sing to her, for he doesn’t know how long. He won’t leave until he’s sure that she won’t feel abandoned and there’s a period of calm before Max whispers “She’s asleep now. Thank you so much, Billy.”

She sounds close to tears herself. She’s probably been up since four or five o’clock this morning and as it turns out, Lulu isn’t the only girl with a piece of his heart. “Sweet dreams, little sister.”

“Sweet dreams, big brother.” Max sniffles.

Billy stumbles back toward the bedroom and finds Steve basically doing what he was doing for Lulu, except that Steve is singing his song to his fucking cat, a dark blob resting on his stomach as he pets her, scratching her around the ears and beneath her chin. “With no lovin’ in our souls, and no money in our clothes, you can’t say we’re satisfied…”

His voice is a beautiful purr, husky with sleep, warm and loving to an animal that Steve obviously cares about.

Billy is leveled like the Starcourt fucking Mall.

He blurts out, “You’re gettin’ the words wrong. It’s ‘coats’, not ‘clothes’.”

Fuckin’ smooth, Hargrove. Real fuckin’ smooth.

“Mmkay,” Steve says serenely, eyes closed. “It sounds better my way.”

Anything coming out of your mouth sounds better. “Yeah, it kinda does, doesn’t it?”

As he slides back underneath the covers, Angie gets annoyed with them moving around the bed and hops off to wander back out of the room, tail held high. Steve curls around him, humming contentedly under his breath. Steve’s nose brushes along his neck, breathing inward, and Billy feels like he’s gonna die, because this much happiness at once just can’t be good for you. His mouth has gone dry.

Steve gives another contented hum, wrapping an arm around his waist and a leg around his hips. His hand, resting at Billy’s heart, caresses down the scarred skin and muscle to rest near the waistband of his boxers, and Steve’s thumb leisurely strokes up and down his lower belly, through the trail of hair leading down to his crotch. He murmurs against Billy’s skin “I never get this.”

“Hm. I hope I’d remembered getting you to feel me up,” Billy replies, grinning at the quiet darkness.

“No.” He feels Steve grin against his shoulder, which is…just…the best feeling. “A bed. Talking. Just…letting me kiss you.”

“Letting you,” Billy repeats, a bit sarcastically. “It’s become my cross to bear.”

Steve lightly bites him on the shoulder, and Billy can feel the way his mouth still stretches around a smile. “Okay, you know what I’m saying here.”

“Yeah, I guess I do. But ain’t no hardship, sweetheart.” He squeezes Steve’s hand, and he’s silent for long enough that Billy asks, “What’chu thinkin’ about, Stevie?”

Steve sighs, low and sweet, fingers still petting at his belly. “Billy Hargrove thinks I’ve got heartbreaker’s eyes. I’m thinking ‘bout that.”

“You do,” he whispers, earnest, heart in his throat. “Took your sunglasses off and I see these big brown eyes – and my soul left my fuckin’ body, Steve, I swear. I remember-” Billy swallows, and part of him can go back to that scared, raging, confused boy. “I remember thinking that it wasn’t fair, that no boy should be able to break my heart with just eyes.”

Steve laughs, ducking his face into Billy’s neck sheepishly, even though Billy can’t see him anyway. His skin is hot against his own, lashes like the flutter of his butterfly wings over his skin, making his heart thud harder. “You are a real romantic. I never get that, either.”

Billy snorts, but he can’t really deny it. “It’s too bad, y’know. Cause you’re pretty good at this part, darlin’. Where the hell is my lullaby, though?”

Steve pets his skin some more, slow and lazy, and Billy thinks that maybe he’s already falling asleep-

“Which way you goin’, Billy? Can I go, too?” he croons, fingertips warm and gentle on his skin, petting his abdomen and stroking along the tendons of his neck, lips warm and whisper soft upon his skin. “Which way you goin’, Billy? Can I go with you? You are my whole, babe, my heart and soul, babe. I’d have nothing to show, babe, if you go away…”

He’s got chills running up and down his spine, even though his face and chest feel hot and feverish. Billy’s dying, he’s dying, because he knows now that his love was never wasted on this boy. “Who’s the real romantic?” he whispers hoarsely, relaxing his weight back against Steve’s body. “You’re sweet, Stevie.”

“You’re not fooling me,” he murmurs back and kisses beneath his ear, soft and wet. Billy shudders. “You are, too.”

He takes Steve’s hand, smooth from a life of finger-paint and glitter-glue, and presses his mouth to the palm. “Gotta keep that our special secret, darlin’.”

Sleepily, Steve says “Ain’t a secret, baby.”

---

Steve spends a week just sort of walking on fucking air.

“What’s up, buddy?” Steve doesn’t even bother to ask who it is – Dustin calls him at five o’clock on the dot, every Monday. “Excited to finish up your midterms and come home for a little while?”

“Yeah, I’m going straight to a study group as soon we’re done.” He sounds as cheerful as he ever is, but by now, Steve is also intimately familiar with what he sounds like when he’s tired, too.

“Okay, but try to make sure you get enough rest,” Steve says, holding the phone on his ear with his shoulder as he lifts Angie onto his lap. “You’re smarter when you’ve slept longer than four hours a night, buddy.”

“Yeah, I know.” Then, a little less cheerfully, “So, uh…how are you feeling?”

Steve frowns. Had he been sick the last time he talked to Dustin? He didn’t think so… “Uh…fine? Why?”

“Well, you know…the ten year anniversary is coming up,” Dustin says awkwardly. He sounds distinctly like he’s also frowning now. Unhappy. “And like…I get worried about you, and stuff.”

“Dustin…”

“-and you always say you’re fine, even when you’re definitely not fine…”

“…pal…”

“Robin says you’re okay, which I guess is good but…”

“Dustin.”

“-it’s not the same as be able to see for myself…”

“Dude, seriously-”

“And you’re lonely, man, the people there treat you like shit!”

“DUSTIN!” Steve says loudly, scaring poor Angie right off his lap. “…I have a boyfriend.”

He says the words before really thinking about them and all of their implications. Dustin lets out this hilarious little ‘eep!’ before shrieking “Oh my god, really?!” like he’s suddenly sixteen again and asking Steve how two men have sex, in the technical sense, and jeez-

Steve really misses him, feels his eyes sting. “Yeah. I mean…it’s a new thing, but we’ve already gone on a few dates and it’s going pretty well.”

“Really? Okay, well, what’s he like?!” Dustin asks impatiently.

“Uh, well…” Nervously, Steve wishes that he hadn’t bought a cordless phone. His fingers have nothing to play with in moment like these. “You sort of already know him…Or, I guess, knew him, would be the better way to put it.”

Exasperated, Dustin says, out of the blue, “Oh my god, if it’s Tommy Hall, Steve, I know he had a crush on you, but you can do way better-”

“What?! No, Tommy Hall didn’t-what the fuck, who gave you that idea?”

“Robin,” he says, with an obvious ‘duh’ at the end.

“What the fuck?!” Steve repeats, this time at a volume that makes Angie cower under the coffee table. “Oh Ang, I’m sorry, baby – c’mon. Daddy’s sorry.”

Apologetically, Dustin explains “She told me and Erica not to tell you, because she didn’t wanna out Tommy to you even though she was pretty sure he wanted to fuck you. Then after your crisis, we agreed he wasn’t good enough for you.” Steve feels a sudden headache coming on, because this entire scenario has ‘Scoops Troop’ written all over it in big bold letters. “If it’s not Tommy Hall, then who?”

“Billy. Max’s Billy.”

There is a pause before Dustin asks “…is he okay now?”

The thing about Dust is that he’s so outwardly goofy that it’s easy to forget that he’s so smart, and he’s so smart that it’s easy to forget that he’s so empathetic. “Yeah, he’s okay now. He grew up a lot more when he went back to California.”

“Is he nice?” It’s less a question and more a demand.

“He’s really nice,” Steve says honestly, finally coaxing Angie back onto his lap after earning her forgiveness. “And he’s more…patient now. More relaxed. I think Lauren might be his best friend – he calls her Lulu, and I see him every morning when he drops her off. He um…he works for El.”

Jane Hopper is something of a…not exactly a sore spot for Dustin, but mentioning her tends to make him droop like a wilting daisy. They are not close and probably never will be. Steve used to think Dust was exaggerating when he said that Eleven didn’t like him, but she tends to shut down in one on one conversations with him, and she’ll do just about anything to avoid being left in a room alone with him.

Steve doesn’t really think that it’s because El straight up doesn’t like him, he thinks that it’s more of a matter of a sheltered person like El not quite knowing how to deal with a personality as loud and attention-grabbing as Dustin’s could be. That reaction crushes his self-confidence though, so the Scoops Troop try not to bring her up, and Steve tries to do El the courtesy of not overwhelming her too often.

“Oh good, Mike was just telling me she was getting busy enough to start needing help,” Dustin says neutrally. There was a pause, and then, more quietly, he asks “Is Max doing okay?”

It’s a little weird, because even though they’re all the same age, Max kind of had to grow up the faster, because while the others were thinking about the end of their freshman year of college, Max was giving birth and dealing with a marriage and a mortgage. “I think she’s excited to have Billy back in town – he’s hinted that she was having a bit of financial trouble before he got here.”

“So, you don’t think that she and Justin will be getting back together?”

Steve sighs, irritated. “If Lucas wants to make me a spy, the least he could do is ask me the questions himself.”

“That’s not a yes,” Dust coaxes. “Just yes or no, I refused to ask you anything else.”

“No, I’m pretty much sure that if he comes back to town, Max will be asking to borrow the nail bat.”

“Hm, there’s a long line for that. Can you pick me up from the station?”

“Uh-huh. Eight o’lock on the 30th, right?”

“Right.” Dust sighs, and again Steve’s heart gives a painful pang at hearing how tired he sounds. “Sorry, it’s time for my study group. Love you, Steve.”

“Love ya, kid.”

---

He has way more work to do now, since Robin insists that the original bet was for only a make-out session and he kind of ended up with a boyfriend, so she gleefully dumped upon him all of the quizzes she gave before the students began spring break, including the twenty page midterms she made them do. He didn’t have to grade the three page essays at the end but that still left seventeen pages to mark through forty-five times.

Despite the stack of paperwork in front of him, Steve’s still got a huge grin on his face as he sits across from Robin in the diner and lifts his coffee mug. Dazed, he says “I’ve got a boyfriend.”

He can’t say it too loud, that’s inviting trouble on himself that he doesn’t need, but he can’t hold it in.

Robin looks up, threads of hair escaping from her messy bun, and smirks at him, but her eyes are enormous and warm. “Yeah, you do.” Setting down her pen and flexing her fingers, Rob rests her chin on her hand. “And you still haven’t given me any details on dates number two and three.”

Steve’s brain helpfully provides him with the dreamy vision of both of those.

Date number two was a pool house in Evansville, drinking beer, talking trash at each other that was at least half flirting, and finding reasons to brush up against Billy in public, until Billy stood behind him as he was making a shot and growled in his ear, “Get in the fuckin’ car, darlin’. Gonna bite you where you like it.”

They steamed up the windows of the Impala that was the Camaro’s spiritual successor, and Billy pulled him on his lap, yanked opened the buttons on his shirt and assaulted Steve’s chest – pinched, kissed, sucked, and yes bit him, until Steve had his hands braced on the roof to keep himself grounded in a world that kept spinning, and cried “Oh fuck, Billy, stop, I’m gonna come.”

“Mm, I don’t hear a downside anywhere in there. Lemme get you off, heartbreaker.”

Right there in the driver’s seat, Steve’s head thrown back and mouth wide open as he tugged frantically on Billy’s shortened hair, coming without a hand ever touching his dick because he had Billy’s groaning mouth sucking at his nipples. Limbs shaking, Steve shoved his hand down the front of his pants and jerked Billy off with sharp rotations of his wrist, kissing all over his face, his neck, his chest. “Baby, baby,” he murmured, nipping at Billy’s neck. “Look at me.”

Billy’s eyes were the blue of distant oceans, like he kept a part of California in him wherever he went. Steve whispered “Fuck, Billy, you’re beautiful” and suddenly his fingers were soaked with come, Billy staring up at him in stunned rapture, like Steve was the sun and he couldn’t bring himself to look away.

Date three was Billy making California-style tacos for him (he had no idea that avocados were so delicious, what the hell!) and then watched Stand By Me, the Friday night movie on tv, head on Billy’s shoulder while he explained how Stephen King basically ripped off The Party’s life story, minus Maxine and Eleven.

Billy looked so startled when Steve started groping him on the sofa. There were sometimes moments that Billy really seemed to think that Steve was some kind of stuck-up prude, when he looked absolutely flabbergasted that Steve was as into this as he was, could be as aggressive as he was.

“Bed?” Billy asked in his ear, grinding down against him, his hands squeezing Steve by the hips. Thick, throbbing against him, making Steve’s mouth water and his heart beat three times faster. His belly was wet with pre-come, smeared all over his skin, burning hot where their skin met.

Steve had his teeth clenched together, trying not to shout so loudly that all his neighbors knew his guest’s name was Billy. He grabbed Billy by the upper arms and squeezed hard, sweating and arching his hips into his every motion, thighs tightened around his hips. “Billy, if you stop right now, I swear I’ll kill you.”

“Yeah?” The dummy was so surprised. “Getting close, heartbreaker?”

Sometimes, Billy still seemed surprised that Steve even reacted to him, like he was an untouchable statue. My ice princess. But he was flesh and he was blood, and it scared him, how much he wanted Billy to touch him. How bewildered he felt at the sight of Billy lying next to him in the morning, face down in the pillow.

He’d show him a goddamn ice princess.

“Give it to me good, baby, c’mon,” he moaned, and Billy bucked faster, breathed harder. Steve could feel his arms shake and smiled against his mouth. Raking his nails down his back, Steve slid his hands beneath the back of Billy’s boxers and got two handfuls of his ass, rasping “That’s it, like you mean it. Fuck, don’t stop, Billy. Right there! Baby-baby-!”

“Steve-o, earth to Steve-o!” Robin sing-songs. “What planet did you land on, dingus? Care to share with the class?”

He waves her off. “You don’t want to hear all the sweaty, manly details, Rob…”

She watches him drift off, pale skin flushing warm and vivid. “Oh my god, what’s that face for? What did you do?!”

Blushing like a schoolgirl, Steve hides his face. “After the boning, he made me hot chocolate and we spent three hours cuddling on the couch!”

“Oh my god, Steve, leave it to you to get embarrassed by the high school romance bits,” Robin is laughing at him, loud and happy. “What a dingus!”

Despite her laughter, Rob is practically glowing. Has Steve’s new relationship really made her this happy? With a bit of a whine to his tone, Steve says, “Well it’s not like I haven’t done the other parts before! I didn’t even know Billy wanted to do the sappy shit!”

She clicked her tongue, grinning fondly. “You love it.”

“I do,” he admits, bashful. “He’s all…romantic and stuff. Y’know.”

“And stuff? Come on, you can give me better details than that.” Steve can’t manage to do anything but blush harder and Rob smiles like the Cheshire cat. “Oh, that good, huh? I bet he brings you breakfast in bed and calls you pet names.”

Steve is hiding a smile behind his fingers, a lost and awed expression in his eyes. “Heartbreaker.”

“Hm?”

“He calls me sweetheart, and darlin’, and-and heartbreaker.” Self-conscious with himself, Steve buries his head in his arms and moans, “Oh god, please don’t make me say anything else.”

“That’s ridiculous and I love it,” Robin replies, with an enormous grin.

“Buckley, why are you torturin’ my guy?” Neither of them heard Billy walk into the diner, but there he is – blue flannel, fleece-lined jacket, and heavy denim. Steve becomes a puddle in the booth and it must be obvious because Rob looks positively gleeful and Billy is starting to look smug and maybe a little besotted.

Fuck.

---

Billy knows that Robin must’ve been teasing him – Steve’s pretty face is all pink, even the tips of his ears are red. Buckley, on the other hand, is almost demonic with glee. Clearing his throat, Steve gives him such an adoring expression that it leaves Billy nearly breathless. “Hi there, Harrington.”

“What are you doing here?” Steve asks playfully, with a smile that veers dangerously close to naked flirtation.

He shrugs. “Lulu went to her friend Sam’s birthday party. Wanted to check on you, since you said the slave driver chained you to your paperwork.”

Buckley huffs. “I won that bet fair and square!”

Steve huffs back, with an endearing little pout. “I never agreed to it, you bully!” He throws Billy a look with those devastating eyes. “She’s going to abandon me to see a movie. Wanna keep me company?”

If anyone ever figures out how fucking easily he falls to that gaze, he’s a dead man. Aw shit. From Buckley’s face, she’s already figured that out. “Yeah, ‘course.”

Buckley rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, like getting to moon at your new boyfriend is such a hardship.”

“Rob!” Steve hisses, looking at nervously.

She scoffs, getting up from the opposite side so that Billy could take her place. She gives Billy sort of a challenging stare, and tosses her head. “If he didn’t wanna go public, he should’ve said no the first damn time, when you warned him.”

Maybe Billy’s answer would be different if his father were still alive. But he ain’t. “It ain’t that big a deal – just don’t wanna get Harrington into any shit.”

She pitches her voice so that it won’t carry. “You don’t get to take whatever you want in private and leave him out in the cold in public.”

He can’t even imagine how Old Billy would react to having a woman talk to him like this. But by the hardness in her eyes, he does know that even Old Billy wouldn’t have scared her. Robin Buckley has fought monsters far more disturbing the one he used to be. She also, judging from the steel in her jaw, has seen people (men? women? both?) do this to Steve before. Take their physical pleasure from him in dark of night and then pretend they can’t see him in the light of day.

She looks ready to knock his teeth out if she doesn’t like his answer, and Billy can both understand that anger, and respect her desire to protect Steve from pain. “Down girl,” he murmurs, “I wouldn’t leave him out in the cold anywhere, never mind around these wolves.”

“Rob,” Steve says lowly. “Don’t give him a shovel speech. I can take care of myself.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” she responds, with a smile that’s equally sweet and poisonous. Billy’s opinion of her skyrockets. “Have fun, boys.”

Steve sighs at her retreating back, looking put upon for a moment before he smiles at Billy again. Flicking his hair out of his face, he pushes his glasses up his nose and admits, “I actually do have to work on these. Sorry.”

Billy steals his coffee mug. “Yeah, I kinda assumed that.” He pulls a dog-eared copy of Red Dragon from his jacket pocket. “Don’t worry, I can keep myself entertained. Besides, I got somethin’ real pretty to look at.”

He throws in a wink just for good measure, just because he knows he’ll be well rewarded with another rosy blush coloring Steve’s cheeks.

It’s relaxing, sitting around like a normal couple, nobody giving a shit about the two of them sitting there. Understandably, he’s pretty surprised when something – or someone – touches his dick under the table.

His eyes immediately shoots up to Steve’s face as the arch of a socked foot presses into the fly of his jeans, rubbing gently against the rapidly thickening semi there. The question on his lips dies almost instantly. He hardly needs to ask if it’s an accident – Steve’s gaze is already fixed on Billy, biting down on the corner of his lip as he tries to hide the curve of a wicked smile, his eyes dark behind the frames of his glasses.

Billy’s mouth drops open slightly as Steve’s toes curls around the rigid line of cock, wedged painfully against his zipper. Steve makes a low noise, a satisfied kind of purring, at how quickly Billy goes from semi to fully hard. Gripping the edge of the table with one hand and squashing his book into an open position with the other, Billy croaks “Steve.”

Oh so innocently with his angel-faced smile and his creamy rose blush, Steve says “What are you reading?”

Billy has to bite down a pained groan as Steve rubs him just a little harder. It’s torturous – there’s too many layers between them to get Billy off, which he suspects that Steve is well aware of, but it also feels so good that he doesn’t really want him to stop. Too late, he recalls Robin’s words about Steve in the 11th Hour. He likes to flirt with danger. He’s addicted to risk.

He honestly couldn’t think of anything riskier than Steve trying to bring him off in the middle of one of the town’s busiest attractions, only edged out by the churches and the bars. Billy stares at him helplessly, wide-eyed and voiceless with the force of his surging arousal. There is the hint of a command in his voice when Steve repeats, “What are you reading, Billy?”

“R-red-Red Dragon,” Billy responds hoarsely, fighting to stop himself from humping Steve like a fucking animal. He can’t stop himself from letting go of the table and sliding his hand under the cuffs of Steve’s slacks, wrapping his fingers around his ankle to keep him there.

Steve looks very pleased indeed and gives Billy’s dick another rub, finding his cockhead through his pants and flexing his toes right around it. “Steve,” he says weakly. “Are you trying to give me a fetish?”

Surprised, he asks “Do you have one?”

“No, but-” He holds in a whine and hisses, “Keep touchin’ my dick like that, and I’m gonna start having inappropriate thoughts about your feet, sweetheart.”

Surprised and curious now, Steve presses harder. “Can you come this way?”

“I don’t-I don’t know.” Billy has to hold back another whine and quickly lets go of his book before he can start accidentally ripping out pages. “Why…why are you…?”

Shyly, which is very rich coming from someone in the middle of giving him a footjob in public, Steve says “Just trying to make you feel good. Can’t use my hands from all the way over here.”

Despite these words, his stare on Billy is hungry, and he can hear Steve panting softly through his words. The distant part of his mind that’s still rational wonders what is that’s doing it for him – that Billy is kinda weirdly turned on by his feet, that Billy is somewhat at his mercy, or that anyone could catch them doing this. Or maybe it’s a little of all three.

Unable to take it any longer, Billy gently pulls Steve’s sock off, preferring to be able to touch warm skin, and cups the top of his foot against his dick. He strokes Steve’s ankle and rolls his hips as subtly as he can, swallowing a moan as Steve’s dark longing stare holds him captive.

“Dunno where you got an idea like this, heartbreaker,” Billy croaks.

“We can stop,” Steve suggests sweetly, pushing his heel against his aching balls and flexing his toes again. Watching Billy’s eyelashes flutter and the way the hand still on the table clenches and unclenches spastically. Steve nibbles his lower lip and lowers his voice to a suggestive, throaty husk “Or you can just come for me.”

“Steve.” He doesn’t know which is stronger, surprise or desperation or fear.

“Nobody’s watching,” he promises, still in that honey-sweet persuasive purr. He emphasizes this with an up and down rub against the denim seam and licks his lips with an obscene flick of the tongue.

Billy’s cock twitches hard, weeping pre-come into his boxers, and he knows that Steve can feel it because he’s losing the effort to hold in that wicked smile now. His tongue darts out again, like he can taste Billy in the air, and Steve squirms around like he’s trying to relieve the pressure on his own cock.

He sinks down in the booth and spreads this thighs apart, holding Steve against his prick with a little more pressure. He pleads “F-faster, darlin’. Just a little…”

Billy can feel the muscles and tendons in his ankle flexing and shifting as Steve immediately gives in, all coy teasing over as rubs at a pace clearly meant to bring Billy off even through the thick fabric. An echo from the past murmurs “Yeah, it’s me. Don’t cream your pants.”

His lips form around a silent ‘fuck’, trying not to be extremely obvious when he bucks into the contact, choking off his noises to soft helpless whimpers.  

“Fuck, you are so hot,” Steve breathes in the present, nostrils flaring. He’s almost openly panting now and his eyes look nearly black.

Black holes that want to completely consume him. Billy bites down a scream and comes, wet and sticky, because beneath that angel-faced sweetness is a wicked, hungry smile. Just for Billy.

Lazily, Steve takes a twenty dollar bill from his jacket and slaps it down onto the sticky table. “Gimme my sock back,” he says, collecting all his papers and fondly stroking down Billy’s thigh before taking his foot back. “Do you like French silk?”

“Who doesn’t?” Billy says faintly, dazed.

“Good,” Steve says, all sugar and sweetness again. Billy’s fucking dizzy, man. “I made us one. Let’s go.”

“Don’t you want…?” His eyes dart down to Steve’s lap.

“Already did,” and there’s a hint of that dark gleam again. “Watching you, baby.”

Holy fucking shit.

#harringrove #knock me out babe #teacher steve #soft billy

[whumpywhumper]

Puppy Face 🐶

So, I had some very lovely individuals request another Markus/Lucien drabble and, for some reason, that freaked my poor anxiety-ridden brain right the fuck out, and I couldn’t do it. 😅

Therefore, I went ahead and worked with Illyn and @0idril0 ‘s amazing OC, Clint, from her Nico series! 

I now have a solid idea for what I want to do with Markus and Lucien and, hopefully, I can get another drabble up today or tomorrow. My lovely requesters, @starrywhump @castielamigos @comfy-whumpee @imagination1reality0 , please bear with me! 

Edit for Masterpost

****

Illyn paced, hands in her hair, smoke from her altar fouling the air. Her latest fucking failure.  She didn’t know what to do, she didn’t know who to call. Usually, she would call Markus, but that wasn’t an option. 

Obviously. 

She gave her messy blonde hair a vicious tug and swallowed a sob of frustration. Crying wouldn’t help anything. She turned sharply on her heel, feet sinking into the fluffy carpet, and stalked back to the myriad of books that lay stacked and open to various pages. There had to be something there that she could try, something that she hadn’t thought to use. 

If Markus was here he would know what to do. He would open right up to a spell or a dowsing rod and he would have the answers. He was a genius at this shit. Illyn was too new, inexperienced. Her talents lay in different directions. 

The old books were musty to her stopped up nose and their leather bindings crinkled as she shuffled through them. Her eyes were burning and she brushed away tears as they fell onto the vellum pages. She didn’t even know what she was looking at. Glyphs and diagrams swam in front of her vision, carefully drawn botanical depictions blurred together,  and she squeezed her eyes shut to get away from them.  

Markus had been gone for 40 hours.  Almost two fucking days. 

In that time, she had been able to make contact with him once for all of two minutes before she couldn’t hold the spell any longer. The only information she had was that he was still within a fifty-mile radius of his shop and he was being kept in a concrete room with florescent lights. 

She had nothing. 

All subsequent attempts to contact him had failed. She barely understood the spell that she used the first time well enough to get it working and had no idea why it wouldn’t work again. The police weren’t an option. Pretty much all supernatural incidents were ignored unless they had to do with a human. She and Markus didn’t have many friends here in Salem and the friends she had that could help her were half a country away. 

Her hands tightened in the overly large flannel she wore over her nightshirt, pulling it up to her nose to suck in the rosemary and sage smell. She’d taken the flannel from Markus’s work station; he wore it constantly and she never let the chance to make fun of it get away from her.   She hadn’t changed her own clothes since Markus’s call had woken her up in the middle of the night. 

She stank. Her hair was greasy. She was exhausted. 

She couldn’t do this. 

Illyn’s lip trembled and she bit it to quell the oncoming sob-fest. She sank to the floor and hugged her knees, rocking slowly, back and forth. 

All of the information that she had didn’t give her any new leads, any new direction to go. She’d found Markus’s cell phone, the crumpled remains of the demolished electronic were exactly at the GPS location Markus had texted her. 

She’d driven as fast as she could, screaming, hitting her steering wheel. Breaking every traffic law that she knew in order to get there as fast as she could. And she was still too late. All there was was the fucking cell phone. A small spatter of blood from Markus’s fucking bullet wound that didn’t lead anywhere. There weren’t any footprints on the asphalt.  Nothing. 

Her rocking sped up and her hands sank back into her hair. A noise bubbled up in her throat and she didn’t fight the agonized wail that escaped her lips. She pressed her face to her knees but it did nothing to muffle the heartache. 

Illyn didn’t let herself break down for long. Great hiccuping breaths followed after a few moments and she tried to pull herself together. The meat of her palms pressed the tears away, and she stood. She’d run very option through, now it was time for someone else to step in. As much as she didn’t want to call. Face what she’d done. 

Hands trembling with fatigue, she dug through her purse and found her phone. Still charged like a miracle in and of itself. Her favorites list was only two clicks away and she pressed the nickname “Puppy Face” with the dog emoji. 

The phone rang twice before a deep masculine voice answered. “Hey dumplin’, mind if I call ya’ back? In the middle of tryin’ to tie up some loose ends.” 

“Clint.” She squeezed the name out of her tight throat, eyes burning, and her entire face scrunched up of its own accord. “Clint, I need your help. Please.” 

“Illyn? What’s wrong?” 

She sobbed, recalling those same words coming out of her mouth. “It’s Markus, he’s been taken. I can’t find him. Please, you have to help. I’ve tried everything. Scrying, dousing, spells— there’s a spell in here that calls for the damn lens from a fly’s eye, not even the whole fly. Is says specifically not to put the whole fly in there. Can you fuckin’ believe that? There’s another—” 

“Illyn— Dumplin’, you’re rambling. Slow down. What do you mean Markus has been taken?” 

Her shaking hand moved to cover her mouth, to stop the random deluge of information, and she took a deep breath. Right. Priorities. 

“I mean that he called me at two o’clock in the morning almost two days ago and I’m pretty sure that he was kidnapped by something that showed up on one of my augers. Something that scared the shit out of me.” 

“Two- Two days ago.” There was a deep breath over the line and what was possibly a suppressed growl. “Illyn you know the first 48 hours are the most important in these situations. Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

Guilt rumbled through her body like the subway overhead at midnight. She bit her lip and sank back down to the floor. Fighting tears. She pressed her back into the cabinet, grounding herself. “Ca-Cause it’s m-my fault.” Her breaths hitched in her chest, oxygen lacking from every inhale. The knobs of her spine dug into the wood behind her. 

“Explain.” The word was short, to the point. 

A whine made its way out of her mouth and she hated how pathetic she sounded. How pathetic she was. “I-I borrowed Markus’s gr-grahm, Clint. I-I was scared and a-asked if I could buh-borrow it and copy it. And—And he didn’t have it—“ she sucks in a wild breath, trying to make the dark spots gathering in front of her eyes go away “—he didn’t—“ she couldn’t say it again. She curled in on herself, her head pounding with tears. 

Clint’s voice softened, just barely, “Dumplin’, this isn’t your fault. Just tell me what happened.” 

She sniffed, snot and mucous slurping up her nose, as she told him what happened. “. . . I swear, Clint, I tried to get there. But he was just gone. He screamed and—and he just wasn’t there. . . . “ She trailed off after giving him all of the information. Her forehead rested against her knees. Exhausted. 

“Okay,” Clint sighed. She could almost see him pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to head up there as soon as I can, but there’s someone closer to you that I think will be able to help. Illyn, I need you to do something for me, okay?” 

“Anything,” she begged. 

“Go take a shower and a nap. You’re exhausted and ya’ can’t help if you’re dead on your feet.” 

Illyn rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. “Okay,” she mumbled, “okay.” 

“Illyn,” Clint said, voice catching her attention. “We’ll find him, okay?” 

She swallowed. “Yeah, okay.”  

“I’ll talk to you soon Illyn” 

“Bye Clint.” Illyn hung up the phone and dropped it to the floor with a thump. There was nothing else she could do.  

#my ocs #my writing #Markus/Lucien series #guilt #Illyn #@0idril0 #searching #Illyn tried really hard #she's made some mistakes #she knows she could do better #Everybody's human #this is short #ugh #stupid anxiety

[themoonandotherslikeit]

The Talk

There are a lot of challenges with being a single parent. Most of the time Dean feels like he is a great father, but when his teenage daughter, El, comes and asks for advice on sex he finds himself in a predicament he wasn’t expecting at 10am on a Saturday morning. 

Created for @foreverwayward​

Rating: T 

Prompts: 

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to stop listening to you.” -Big Bank Theory

“I’m not great at advice. Can I interest you in a sarcastic comment?” -Friends 

(Quotes are bold)

Tags/Warnings: Language, LGBTQ, Dad!Dean, sexual insinuations. 

Word Count: 1,384

Creator’s Note: This is a part of a larger series The Look in Her Eyes, The Daughter of a Righteous Man, and What The Rain Can’t Wash Away, including my OFC Dean’s daughter. Check out my Master List for the first 10 chapters of the trilogy, and links to the complete work on A03.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I sat at the kitchen table in the bunker reading the newspaper because my life was so fucking boring I could scream. Where were the monster’s when you needed them? Where were the cases? Sam was out running, of all the things to do in the morning. I would never understand that kid. I sat down the paper and rubbed my temples. Was ten too early for a beer? Nah. 

I stood up, to catch my teenage daughter staring at me from the doorway. “Need something, El?” I asked, walking to the fridge.

She sighed, twisting her hair into a bun. “Well.” she pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is so awkward.” 

“What is it?” I raised an eyebrow, cracking open my beer. 

“I have a question.. about sex.” She crossed her arms. 

I choked on the beer I was drinking. Sucked the goddamn thing down my windpipe. I hit my chest with my fist, eyes wide. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t make it weird,” she complained. 

“You are sixteen.” 

“You were a whore when you were young.” She frowned. “I know you had sex younger than sixteen.” 

She had a point. 

“I resent that,” I complained, coughing some more. 

“Come on, I don’t have a mom... I’m just working with what I’ve got.” 

We were always close. Her mom died when she was so young that it left all the big milestones for me to deal with. Nothing could be worse than her first period, though, so I had that to hold on to. 

“Dad!”

“What do you need, Eleanor?” I called as I flipped through my Busty Asian’s magazine. No one told you that when you had a kid every time you pulled out porn, BOOM! There they were to make it weird. 

“I need.. oh god.” 

“What is it?” I asked, shutting the magazine. 

“It’s everywhere,” she cried out. 

“Sweetheart, What’s going on?” I sat the magazine down and followed the sound of her loud sobs to the bathroom. I knocked a few times. “What’s going on?”

“This is so gross,” she complained quietly.

“What is?”

“I...oh god.” 

“El!” I pressed my hand against the door. “Talk to me or I’m breaking the door down.” 

“No! Don’t.... It’s.. I started.”

“Started what?” I was so fucking stupid. 

“You’re going to make me say it?” She was wailing again.

“Honey I’m so confused just... oh god. Oh fuck. Started, started?”

“Yes!” She sobbed. I could hear her sucking up snot from through the door.

I wanted to run. I wasn’t prepared for this. I never paid that close of attention. Sure I got tampons for Ava but this... this was my baby girl. Was she seriously old enough for this? oh my god... this means she can get pregnant. This is my nightmare! “Do you... do you need supplies?”

“Yes, Dad. God! This is a man cave. It smells like bacon and old spice in here, of course I need supplies!”

“Cas!” I shouted, looking alarmed. He poked his head out of his bedroom. “I need you to go to the store. Right now. We need.... we need feminine hygiene products.” I swallowed hard.

“Understood,” Cas said intently. “Super, or regular?”

Sometimes I felt like such a shitty father. If I didn’t give her the talk then, fuck, who would? I sure didn’t want her looking it up online. The idea of her seeing the dark shit I’d seen was enough to make me shelter her for her entire existence. 

“Come in here,” I told her, waving her in. 

She shuffled in, wearing her blanket wrapped around her. “I’m sorry I just... I don’t really have anyone to ask.”

“Nah, kid. You’re good. I’m your Dad... it’s my job,” I sighed, downing the rest of my beer. I was gonna need a hell of a lot more than that if I was going to make it through, but I also didn’t want her to see me pound a whole six pack. Parenting is hard. “What...uh.. what do you want to know?”

“Well, I like someone.” 

“That’s a good start.”

She was biting her lip pretty intensely. 

“Hey, you’re gonna lose it if you keep chewin like that. What’s goin on? He’s not older, is he?”

“No,” she said quietly. “Well yeah, a bit... but not too old.” 

“Then what are you afraid to say?” I lowered myself into the chair next to her. “You can tell me anything,” I assured her. 

She covered her face and mumbled something unintelligible. 

I moved her hands. “Try again.” 

She sighed. “I like... Claire.” 

I raised an eyebrow. “Claire, like Claire Novak Claire? Biker Barbie?”

“Dad oh my god!”

“Sorry,” I grunted. “I’m just surprised.” This is fucking excellent. 

“Are you disappointed?”

“Me?” I asked, surprised. I took her hands in mine when I realized that the tint to her cheek were because she was worried. She thought that I wasn’t going to accept her. “Sweetheart, listen,” I began. “Claire is a punk, but if you like her then that’s great. You don’t have to justify who you like to me.” 

Her blue green eyes flickered up to mine. “Really?”

“Really really. I’m sorry if you’ve felt like you had to hide anything about yourself.” 

A smile grew on her cheeks. “Thanks, Dad.”

Whew! That wasn’t so bad. 

“I do still have a few logistical questions,” she began.

“Uh, okay. Like what?”

“Well in gender stereotype’s the guy pays on dates. Who should pay with us?”

I grinned. “Whoever asks.” I shrugged. “But really taking turns is best. Your mom and I took turns.” 

“Yeah, but you don’t have an actual pay check.” She eyed me.

“Hey that fake pay check pays for all the stuff you want,” I snapped with an eye roll. 

“What about... sex... I just... I don’t know how to..”

I raised an eyebrow. What the fuck do I say to that? The only lesbian activity I’ve seen is... oh Christ. I can’t tell her about anything I’ve seen in porn! 

“Dad?”

How long have I been just staring at her? Just say something, Dean. Anything. Come on you fucking coward! “I uh... I’m not great at advice. Can I interest you in a sarcastic comment?”

Fucking smooth. 

“What?” 

“I... shit. Sweetheart I’m sorry I’m just kind of... I don’t know what to say, okay?” I pinched the bridge of my nose.

“You could just say that, you know?” She asked, narrowing her eyes. “You don’t have to make it weird.” She sighed standing up. 

“Wait, don’t go! Let me think.” This is my job. I sighed as she sat back down slowly. 

“Okay...”

“Just make sure when it happens that you are both... ready. You don’t have to rush. Get to know each other first, and always communicate.”

El nodded knowingly. 

“It’s okay to tell each other what you... uh... what you like. What you’re comfortable with. Just listen to each other.” You’re doin great, keep it up. “Also, make sure to always shower.”

“What?”

“But don’t use scented cleaners on your... lady parts. That can give you an infection. Go pee after, because it can cause a urinary infection. I’ve heard those are godawful.” 

She sat up a little straighter. “Uh, Dad.” 

“Also, maybe keep your nails trimmed. I’ve heard that can be a problem...” I am the king of advice. 

Eleanor stood up, her face bright red. “Dad, um, if you don’t mind, I’d like to stop listening to you. Thanks... um... you’ve given me a lot to think about.” She quickly turned and shuffled out of the kitchen, leaving me standing there with my hands out, trying to demonstrate the proper nail length for extra curricular activities with women in the bedroom. 

I rubbed my forehead. “Really fucked that up, didn’t I?”

“I’ll say,” Sam said, jogging down the stairs.

“How long have you been there?” I asked, alarmed. 

Sam grinned widely at me. “Way too long.”

“Why didn’t you say something? Fuck, why didn’t you stop me?”

“It was like watching a car wreck. Can’t look away.” He shrugged grabbing a beer. He tossed me one, and I caught it effortlessly. “It’s fine, man. She will figure it out just like the rest of us did.”

“Yeah,” I sighed, cracking open my beer. “That’s what I’m worried about.” 

—————-

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