#after being numb for like four years

[saintsugu]

PLAY TIME; KINKTOBER DAY 5

rating: mature; mdni

pairing; yuuji itadori / ryomen sukuna x fem!reader

word count: 5.6k

content warnings: explicit sexual content, 18+, apocalypse au, vague horror (aka it’s kind of creepy), vaginal penetration, all of the explicit sex is with sukuna, manhandling, true-form sukuna, monster fucking (two cocks // four arms), non con, sadomasochism, slight dacryphilia, dvp, usage of pet, bellybulge, unprotected sex, cumflation, alluding to cucking

Author’s note: super unedited. i’m really proud of this fic + the idea as a whole, but i’m really proud of the fact that I got the last 2/3k done in about 1.5 hrs. please enjoy the last piece of 2023’s Kinktober!<3

Today, the forest is ominously quiet—even more so than usual. Dead leaves crunch underneath your boot with every step and it makes your skin crawl; not to mention how freezing cold it is. How did you even end up out here alone to begin with? 

Letting out a shaky breath, which is painfully visible, you try to tug your sleeves down to cover your numb hands. As you’re in the process of doing so, the frightening noise of a twig snapping has your hand instead finding your knife on instinct. 

It could be an animal, but it’s not likely. Given the time of year, most are hibernating, and those that aren’t have already been skinned and cooked. 

You turn around yet are met with nothing except the forest from which you came. With the trees being as crowded together as they are, it’s easy for someone to hide, so your guard isn’t exactly down just yet. 

After many excruciating minutes of silence, a voice speaks and you’re too terrified to realize who it is. Unsheathing your blade, you take a step behind you and are ready to hit whoever may be in front of you. 

“Hey, stop, it’s me!”

Yuuji catches your wrist within moments of impact. Despite his desire to always be gentle with you, the current predicament required a bit of force from his end and you couldn’t help but wince before releasing the knife. The blade clatters against the stones below you and you sigh so loud in relief that you’re sure the entire forest could hear it. 

Your eyes soften and you press your head against his chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was you.” The statement is fairly obvious, yet you still feel the need to clarify that you didn’t mean to try and stab your boyfriend, rather than the stalker you figured he was. 

“Don’t be,” you can feel his hand intertwining with yours and it makes you feel safe. “Let’s go home. I already carved out a path for us, I was just looking for you.”

The trek back to the cabin is short but a bit steep. Yuuji’s holding onto you tightly the entire trip. The grip on your hand aids in making you feel a little more at peace despite the eerie crawl of the woods.  

The cold weather has been well appreciated. Both you and Yuuji find it much easier to layer up and use blankets, rather than deal with turning the generator on fully to keep cool. The way you have it now, you’re able to keep it on for a few hours at a time—just enough for you to shower and do whatever else requires electricity, before shutting it off. There are only a few downsides to the chilling temperatures; one of which, being the fog that occupies the forest. 

It completely limits visibility; that’s nice if you’re holed up in the cabin, but when you’re out scavenging? Horrible. You can’t even see two feet in front of you.  

“Be careful. Step over,” he carefully directs you, quiet as he grips your hand a little tighter. It’s how you know you’ve arrived home. You’re careful to raise your feet and make sure you don’t bump against the fence that Yuuji had staked into the ground. 

The wiring itself isn’t awfully thick, but it keeps most animals away; not to mention that it’s main function is sound purposes. Along the wires, there are different cans and bells that will rattle if the fence is at all bumped or tugged. It’s a good method to keep you and Yuuji up worrying all night. 

It’s so cold. Your words are barely above a  whisper, hands shivering slightly as the cabin comes into view. You can nearly hear the frown in Yuuji’s voice when he tells you that you’re almost there. He’s been very….overprotective of you, to say the least. It’s not like you can blame him, though. The world is scary now. 

“Close it a little softer next time.” You can’t help but teasingly scold your partner as you step into the warm home. 

“But I wanted to shut it before the wind picked up.” It’s cute, the way he snickers at you before moving towards the fireplace. “You should change into something clean while I start the fire.” 

You had planned to already, so you have no issue bouncing towards your shared room to change your clothes. When you return back, Yuuji has busied himself with the fireplace.

Moments like this are nice. Those times, no matter how brief they may be, where you get to watch your boyfriend clumsily set the logs on fire. The simplicity of it all nearly makes you forget the world right outside of your door that has gone to hell. 

It’s just you and the boy occupying the cabin. At different points, people have come and gone, but it’s been a long time since you’ve met eyes with anyone other than Yuuji. A man by the name Megumi stayed with you for a bit, nearly six months, actually, before taking his leave in search of his father. The rest, you’ve long forgotten their names. It’s quite…sad, actually. You spend a lot of nights wondering about their whereabouts. 

“You like what you see?” He teases. His palms are pressed against the floor behind him, lanky limbs spread out a bit as he uses his locked out arms to hold him up. 

“Oh always,” you nearly giggle. He never fails at finding a way to cheer you up. 

Eventually, he stands up to help you make some food. It’s nothing special, really. You just boil rice over the fire and cook it with some canned chicken that Yuuji managed to find on a run last week. 

Food has been getting harder to manage as of late. Thankfully, when this started, there was already a large pantry full of non-perishable food inside the cabin. Even with that being said, it’s been years and supplies are depleting rapidly. Between the two of you, you surprisingly don’t eat much, so it’s easier to ration better, but with less than half of the supplies left, you can’t help but worry. 

“It’s good,” he says, taking a bite. He’s leaned against the wall across from you—you’re both still keeping warm near the fireplace. 

If it weren’t for the bitter temperatures, you would’ve probably sat at the large, oak table in the dining room— a table that’s much too big for only the two of you —but with the crisp and cold air, you opted to eat on the floor in favor of the warmth. 

It’s sweet but it makes you laugh a little. He always tries to make you feel better, no matter what the topic at hand is; he’s like a man consoling his wife. “If it wasn’t, I’d be worried. Takes a lot of work to fuck up rice and chicken,” you say playfully. 

“Better than I could do.” His laughter is contagious. It fills the air the same as it fills your lungs. The pure joy you feel when hearing it, spreads through your entire being as your lips curl into a smile of their own. “I’m serious!” He grins even wider. “Gramps used to make all my meals for the most part.”

“‘Dunno how you got this far like that.” You’re laying on your stomach while you tease him. Your body is nearly perpendicular with the wall, but the side of your head rests against a pillow. Having already finished your meal, you have nothing better to do than shamelessly stare at your lover. 

The sound of the fire crackling mixes with the boy’s voice and fills the room. It all feels so cozy that it makes you forget what awaits you outside of that small wire fence. He makes it easy to forget—or to ignore, for better lack of words. 

When you’re staring into his eyes, it’s easy to pretend like you’re unaware of the storm raging outside. As if you don’t know the world is burning the same way the shriveled firewood has. 

Once he finishes his bowl, you find it as a perfect chance to straddle his lap. With your legs spread, your knees press into the plush carpeting. The moment can only be described as intimate as your foreheads touch. 

“I love you.” It’s a quiet affirmation that you both repeat at the same time. The repetition causes you both to laugh, before he silences you with a soft kiss. “My girl,” he whispers. 

Slow kisses begin to get more desperate as his hands roam your body. He’s in nothing more than a black tank top, and a pair of thin pajama pants that are too baggy for him. It gives you easy access as you kiss his neck, uncaring of how you do so; it’s not like anyone will see. 

For the rest of the night, Yuji conveys just how much he loves you. Your time spent together consists of limbs messily intertwining as he has his way with you on the floor. Despite having full control over a willing partner, Yuuji is still so sweet and kind to you. He may accidentally overestimate his strength and manhandle you slightly, but he always tries his hardest to not hurt you in any way. 

He brings you to the edge more times than you would have ever imagined and he’s a bit more…clingy than usual—not that you mind, of course. You just hadn’t realized how scared he had gotten when you got seperated in the forest. He definitely did a good job of hiding it from you. 

After cleaning up and triple-checking that the doors are locked and the windows are still boarded up, you make your way into the bedroom. You feel extremely safe and secure as you lay beside him. An arm draped over your side as he pulls you close into his chest. 

“Goodnight,” he whispers softly. You swear that your name has never sounded sweeter than when it’s dripping off his tongue. 

Thanks to his comforting touch, you’re asleep within minutes. 

— three years ago. 

Run. Keep running. Don’t stop. 

Those words repeat through your head on a loop. They got louder and louder the more you felt your body start to slow. You’re running out of energy. As much as you wish it could, even your sudden burst of adrenaline isn’t enough to combat your starvation and dehydration. 

You feel like you’ve been running for days—like some wild animal that’s being hunted down. Every time you try to take a breath, they’re on your heels again. 

Nearly 3 weeks ago, you had stumbled upon a small group. They offered you food and shelter, in return for manual labor. Due to your starved state, you didn’t think to ask many questions before taking the water they offered you and mindlessly agreeing. 

Unfortunately, what you had hoped to be a new companionship, turned out to be psychopaths trying to force you to kill unsuspecting people. They would track down homes and kill whoever resided in them. You tried to sneak out, but they caught on and were quick to chase after you. 

It’s been over a week of this little chase, and you can barely stand. You’re beginning to wonder if running is even worth it, at this point. 

Despite seeing it, your brain doesn’t fully process the branch in the path until after you’ve tripped over it. You have absolutely no time to recover as you fall straight towards the dirt. 

“Shit,” you curse, feeling thorns poking against you. As you lie on the ground, exhaustion setting in even more so now than before, your inner monologue morphs. 

Get up. 

You’re nearly screaming at yourself. Every part of your body feels heavy. No matter how hard you will yourself to get back on your feet, you’re rendered incapable. 

The approach sound of footsteps confirms that this is the end. Once they find you, they’ll kill you without a second thought. At least I tried. It’s the last thought that runs through your brain as the footsteps get louder and everything goes dark. 

It’s quiet. You like it. 

It’s been a long time since you’ve felt so…at peace. 

“You’re awake.” The voice sounds panicked but…happy? 

You’re quick to shoot up, but you’re surprised when your hands move freely. If they didn’t kill you, you had at least expected them to restrain you somehow. Yet, when you look around the room, it’s so unfamiliar. 

“…who are you? A-are you with them?” You feel weak at the stammer in your voice, but it can’t be helped. Despite his soft features, you’re terrified of the man sitting across from you. 

It’s clear that he’s confused, but you still aren’t convinced. “With who? When I found you, you were unconscious in the dirt.”

That doesn’t make sense. Did they…stop looking for me?

You nearly ask again, but you’d rather not be questioned about why you were running. If he wanted to kill you he would’ve done it when you were knocked out cold. There’s no reasonable explanation for him to bring you back to his home and do it there. 

“I’m Yuuji,” he says and you can tell that he’s worried he’ll upset you. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

It didn’t take long for you to warm up to him after that. You truly had nowhere else to go, so you slept in the guest room of his cabin for months, until one day, things took a bit of a…different route. 

“How’d you find this cabin anyways, Yu’?” Your voice is a bit higher than usual as you lean against the plush couch. On his latest supply run, the boy brought back a good amount of alcohol and you both agreed that it’d be a shame to let it go to waste. 

“I didn’t,” he shakes his head, words a bit slurred. “It was my Gramps’. Been in the family since before I was born. It was my family’s designated rendezvous place—we all kind of picked it as a joke but,” he pauses. The silence is deafening as you hang on his words. “I was the only one who made it here.”

Your expression drops. Neither of you had attempted to ask about the other’s families in the months you’ve known each other, finding it a bit of a personal topic to bring up at random, but now, considering you’re both tipping over the edge from the alcohol…your filters are a little less engaged. 

“It’s okay, though,” he takes a sip of his beer as he plasters a fake grin onto his face. He pauses, before his face turns sour. Initially, you believe that he’s about to open up, add on to what he said, but you quickly stand corrected when he bolts up and starts to walk— no, run off. 

“Yuuji?” You call after him as he disappears from your view. Due to the drinks, your reaction time is a bit sluggish, so it takes a minute before you’re up and following him. Once you finally follow him into the open bathroom, you find him hunched over the toilet and it suddenly makes sense. 

His beer can is on the floor, its contents pooling around the base of the toilet as Yuuji uses his forearms to keep himself stable. He doesn’t throw up much, mostly just coughing and gagging— Still, the sight brings up a few…unpleasant memories and the sounds alone make a melancholic feeling settle in your chest. 

“Do you want some water?” You offer, but he shakes his head.

“Stay here.” It’s a simple request. His words are slurred, but the look in his droopy eyes tells you he means it. He rests his head against his right forearm, staring directly at you as he tries to regain his strength. 

Eventually, you settle onto the floor a few feet away from him. With your back against the door, you curl your knees up to your chest and just wait for him to feel better. A few minutes pass, neither of you would really be able to count how many, but he finds himself leaning against the bathtub rather than the toilet. 

“’m glad I found you,” he says quietly, voice hoarse from coughing so much. “I was kind of going crazy all by myself. I swore I started hearing things,” he chuckles, trying to lighten the mood. 

It’s so peculiar to you how Yuuji is so…positive. Even now, drunk and hunched over a toilet bowl, he finds it in him to laugh. You don’t have it in you to tell him that you’re happy to— cause that would require admitting that you care about him. 

“What were you doing before all this?” You ask him curiously, trying to change the subject. It’s something you’ve wondered for a long time yet never found a way to bring it up. 

“I was just a college student,” he laughs a bit, the skin of his eyes creasing at the thought. “I delivered pizzas when I could. Did some odd jobs, too. Like…landscaping for my grandpa’s neighbors and shit. What about you?”

“Just bartending,” you nod, thinking back to those simple times. “It was good money.”

The two of you sit and talk like that for a little longer, until Yuuji eventually starts to doze off. As cute as he looks as his eyes flutter shut, you know better than to let him sleep there. “C’mon, let's get you to bed,” you say softly, helping him stand up. 

“You’re so sweet,” he murmurs, half asleep and still inebriated as he leans against you. You’re practically dragging him towards the bedroom with his arm around your shoulder. “And pretty too. ‘M so happy we found you…”

That night and in that moment, you were too hung up on him calling you pretty to acknowledge the we in his words; or maybe you did notice, but it was subconsciously easier to just…chalk it off as a slip of the tongue. 

—

You’re drenched in sweat as you suddenly wake up, body practically launching away from the bed. You press your palm to your chest, feeling the way your heart is beating at an inhumane rate. 

For the past few weeks, you’ve been having vivid nightmares. Usually, they’re all similar; all having to do with you being taken or something of the sort. Tonight’s dream was a bit different. 

You were in the cabin, but nothing was working. The boards were off the windows, the fireplace wouldn’t light, and the generator wouldn’t work. Thankfully, you woke up before anything bad could truly happen, but waking up was bad in and of itself, considering the bed is empty with Yuuji nowhere to be found.  

“…Baby?” You call out nervously, leaning over to turn your bedside lamp on. You were hoping that he was just in the bathroom, but that hope is quickly squashed when he doesn’t call back. 

With a stuttered sigh, your legs swing over the side of the bed as you prepare to search for your lover.  Shaking hands sift through your drawer, pushing around objects you forgot existed, before landing on a thick flashlight. It illuminates the room, making your eyes widen in a weak attempt to adjust to the light. 

Your footsteps are light and cautious against the creaking wood and it’s a scene straight from a horror movie. Once on the stairs, you can hear something creaking— a door or a window— but when you get in the kitchen, you can’t seem to find anything.

Timid as a mouse, your voice is quiet as you call out for Yuuji. There’s no response, of course not, but as you begin to speak again, you’re very quickly disrupted. 

A thick hand wraps around your face, easily covering your lips and practically suffocating you as his fingertips dig into your cheekbones. Panic bubbles out of your throat, eyes wide with adrenaline, yet as you go to scream, another hand finds its place around your throat. 

“Don’t scream.” A dark and eerily familiar sound pierces your ear. It’s a contorted and dark version of a voice you hear every day. “Or you could, but who’ll find you?” He mocks sadistically. 

Your head is yanked back, nearly giving you whiplash as it makes contact with the man’s chest. You feel as though you’re about to hurl. The panic is presenting itself clear in the form of bile in your throat, and the fear in the form of tears. 

“I’ve sat on the sidelines for too fucking long.”

Another hand begins to tug at your flimsy pajama shorts— wait, another hand…?

Looking down in absolute horror, you’re greeted by a third arm tussling at your clothes. You’re convinced you’re going insane, but it’s so real. At this point, with dead people walking around, nothing should surprise you, but even so, you can’t help the way your eyes widen in horror at the side of multiple sets of arms. 

You’re far too distraught to even register the way the fabric tears at your thigh, completely ripping apart with a flick of his hand. The lump in your throat grows, making your mouth dry as you struggle to speak. 

“W-who are you?” 

The man behind you just laughs— a deeply disturbing sound as it vibrates throughout the kitchen. He doesn’t say anything, just grabs your waist with one of four hands and begins to drag you; where exactly, you aren’t sure.

Amongst the laughter, he covers your eyes as he manhandles you away. He’s keeping your sight obscured until you can ‘properly see me’, as if it’s some sort of game. It’s terrifying.

It feels like the wind is knocked out of you with how roughly he’s shoving you against a hard surface— your table, you soon realize. He maneuvers you as if you’re some kind of doll and gets you laying onto the table before your vision is finally returned. He retracts two out of four hands; keeping them only on your waist and throat. 

Your heart drops when you finally see the man in front of you. It’s Yuuji— your Yuuji, but his body is deformed. He’s much taller and stockier for starters. He’s missing the lean figure that you’ve grown to adore. Instead, he’s towering over you ever more, with an extra pair of arms sprouting from his midsection. One of the most disturbing parts, though, are the second and third eyes. They’re placed directly under his regular eyes, but they’re half the size. It makes you want to throw up. 

“What? You don’t like seeing your baby Yuuji?” he imitates you with a sadistic grin.

You’re shuddering in fear, throat constricted just enough to let you speak. “You are not my Y-Yuuji,” you stammer, shaking like a goddamn leaf. 

He just laughs, tugging at your panties. Even with you desperately squeezing your thighs together, he rips them apart with ease. “You’re right, I’m not. Yuuji couldn’t fuck you properly even if someone was telling him how.”

What is he talking about? Who is this?

“And trust me, I tried,” he says, like he’s exasperated as he rips your panties off. “Every time I talk to him, he just ignores me. Little brat.” He’s muttering to himself as thick hands pry your legs apart.

“Please, don’t,” your voice shakes, resorting to your seemingly last option of begging whoever this imposter is. “I-I’ll give you anything else just don’t…” you can’t even speak it out loud. You know what he wants to do to you— what he’s about to do. 

Your pleading is met with a loud, and mocking laugh. “You look so cute like that; all helpless and crying. You humans have always looked best like that.” It makes sense. You would’ve never described him as human. You don’t know where he’s going with this tangent, but his voice soon drops an octave and answers your question. 

“Do you really think I’m gonna pass up the chance to get what I’ve been craving for so long? Why, because of a few tears?” You hadn’t even realized you were crying until then, but now that you know, the dams are releasing. 

“W-who are you?” Sure, he’s claimed to be Yuuji, but it’s clear that you aren’t falling for that. His eyes zero on your cunt as thick fingers begin to prod at your folds. None of the movements make sense and it’s clearly not for your pleasure. It feels more as if he’s just inspecting it.

It’s been a long time since he’s been let out to play, after all.

“Call me Sukuna, Doll.” His words are eerily dark before he roughly shoves a finger into your cunt. For the most part, you’re fairly dry, but he knows that he can change that; and he knows that it won’t take him long, either. Humans are simple creatures. 

Tears slip out of your eyes faster, only fueling him on even more as he starts to finger fuck you. His fingers are a lot thicker than the slender digits that you’ve gotten used to. It hurts but it also..feels good? You hate even thinking that, but you can’t deny the physical pleasure you’re experiencing despite the mental anguish alongside it. 

“You’re wet,” he obnoxiously observes, uncaring of the way it makes you squirm. “Do my fingers feel that good? Or are you just used to Yuuji treating you like glass?” You don’t respond, instead opting to turn your head away. 

A third finger slips in and you swear that it’s already the equivalent of your boyfriend’s cock. “I always told him that he needed to be rougher. The little brat wouldn’t listen but I knew better; I know that girls like you just want to be treated like whores.”

As the pad of his fingers press into your g-spot, you finally let out a moan. It’s whiney and high pitched and out of fucking nowhere. In all of the times he’s listened in on you and Yuuji having sex— which has been every time — he’s never heard a noise like that leave your lips. It has his ego inflating even further. 

Immediately, you’re trying to bring a hand to your lips, trying so hard to muffle the noises that keep seeping out like a waterfall. Still, it’s no use once Sukuna catches onto what you’re doing. A large hand overpowers your own as he pins it against the hard table. 

“Don’t do that,” he demands, a sick grin on his face. “I want him to hear.” Him? Yuuji can hear?

You’ve been far too scared to put together all of Sukuna’s implications. Too riddled with fear to even think about if Yuuji knew that this demon was living inside of him. Even so, from everything he’s said, it wouldn’t take a genius to figure it out. 

It doesn’t take much longer for his patience to break. With one hand still buried inside of your cunt, two others are undoing his sweats. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight you see next. 

Not only is his cock considerably bigger than Yuuji’s, but there’s two of them. 

With panic spreading through your body, you’re very quickly trying to scramble away. “T-those can’t—“ you’re stammering, body attempting to crawl away from him and up the table. Even with you slipping away, he’s trying to line one of his cocks up. “Those can’t go inside of me. Y-you’re fucking crazy,” you curse, mind reeling just at the thought of him trying to jam just one of those things inside of you. 

“Stay fucking still,” he barks, yanking you back down and right onto his dick. Your mouth opens in a silent scream, and your eyes begin to roll back. With your lips parted in an O, he finds himself groaning at the feeling of your tight heat and the sight of your oh so beautiful face twisted up in both pleasure and pain. 

With a deep groan vibrating his entire chest, he bottoms out inside of you. He feels impossibly deep as he nestles inside of you. Your nails scrape against the wooden surface, and your back arches. Your entire body is being overwhelmed by the intense pain he’s causing, yet you can’t deny the element of pleasure that’s mixed in. 

You would’ve never mentioned it to him, but Yuuji did always treat you like glass. He was always a bit too kind and a bit too gentle. It felt good, just not…intense.

“Sukuna,” you nearly scream the name, hips stuttering as you try to not cum right then. He’s pushing your knees up to your chest, leaning forward to get a good look at the pathetic puddle he’s turned you into, as he fucks you roughly. 

“You sound good saying my name, pet,” he laughs, thrusting deep into you as his second  cock rests above your stomach. “I always knew you would.”

The two of you stay like that for awhile— Sukuna fucking you within an inch of your life, and you taking it like some sort of rag doll. It doesn’t take much longer for you to cum. With the length of his second cock rubbing against your clit, you’re easily overstimulated until you're squirting all over him. 

That’s another thing you’ve never done with Yuuji. It feels so dirty and twisted, but fuck, you can’t deny how good this monster is making you feel. His cock is reaching places you didn’t think possible and it’s driving you insane. 

After what feels like forever, Sukuna’s finally starting to pull out. You’re practically half-conscious at this point. Your body is lolled out on the table, limply laying there as you stare up at him with lidded eyes. 

You watch as his, seemingly permanent, grin widens, and you don’t fully understand why it is, until you feel something else prodding at your hole. He’s not…is he?

For the nth time tonight, your eyes widen at the sight of him trying to push his other cock into your pussy beside the one that’s already there. 

“S-Sukuna it won’t fit, it won't—“

“Will you ever learn to shut up?” He snarls, starting to push in. Thankfully for him, two cocks is a quick way to get you to quiet down. You’re far too preoccupied with getting stretched beyond your limits to worry about talking back. 

It feels like you’re going to explode at any given time. It’s just too much. You could barely fit what was in you before, let alone double. Your eyes twitch due to how hard they’re rolling. 

Finally, as you begin to regain some semblance of control over your body, you try to refocus your vision. Your eyes land on Sukuna once more, studying how he begins to look less like Yuuji the longer this goes on. He’s beginning to morph into his own self. It’s weird and creepy and you want it to stop.

Drifting away in search of something else to latch onto, your eyes find another thing to focus on. This one, though, is much more alarming. 

A thick bulge can be seen poking through your skin in the shape of his cock. You watch in absolute horror as it moves in tandem with his hips. 

“You little humans,” he purrs. “All so fragile. Look at that…” once his hand goes to trace the bulge and you finally see just how large his hands really are. “Look how deep inside of you I am. C’mon,” he taps your cheek, trying to pull you from your dazed state. “You can’t fall asleep yet.”

He doesn’t even give you the chance to say something in response. Instead, he begins to fuck you at a rough pace. Not as fast as earlier, but a lot deeper. With each stroke, you find yourself crying out his name and reeling from the pleasure he’s providing. It’s sick and insane that you’re finding any aspect of this enjoyable, let alone all of it. Every single movement has you one step closer to cumming. 

 By the time Sukuna’s emptying both of his cocks inside of you and filling you to the brim with cum, you’ve already hit your climax two additional times. You’re completely dazed over at this point, barely even conscious, and definitely not aware enough to notice how swollen your tummy is due to the copious amount of cum he dumped inside of you. 

He hasn’t even pulled out yet, but he’s letting out a deep sigh. The deal he and Yuuji made was that he got to fuck you once and only until he came. He has a feeling Yuuji won’t allow him any other fun than that, especially since it’s going to be hard enough trying to convince you this was a nightmare or whatever other bullshit he’ll try to feed you. 

“Okay, brat,” he mutters, pressing down lightly on the bulge and watching you haphazardly squirm. “I’m done now. Let’s go.”

One. Two. Three. 

Nothing comes. No one switches. 

A devilish grin finds Sukuna’s face once more. 

“God, you’re such a little pervert,” he laughs. “You want to watch me fuck her brains out again, don’t you, Yuuji?�� Even with no response, he knows he’s right. 

His hand strokes your cheek gently, before roughly grabbing your jaw, scaring you but not enough to jolt you awake.

“Seems like we get to have some more fun, Doll.”

tagging: @enchantedforest-network , @themovingcastlez , @hannzai , @pussydrunkfyodor , @chaoticmoonave , @kkittycries , @dilfhos , @saintriots , @suyacho , @princess-okkotsu

#jjk smut #ryomen sukuna #sukuna smut #yuuji itadori #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna ryomen smut #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #itadori yuuji #yuji x reader #tw noncon #.kinktober 2023 #.ezra’s writing #.file } itadori #.file } sukuna

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Protector

Requested by @captaincvans

Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, a little bit of Sam Winchester x little sister!reader

Synopsis: your big brother Dean has always been your protector

It started when you were four years old. Dean answered one of John’s phones, and was shocked to hear your tiny voice on the other end.

“Who is this? How did you get this number?”

“My mommy,” you were sobbing into the phone, and Dean’s heartbeat picked up. Had someone hurt the little girl on the other end? “My mommy said to call if-if bad things happened. She said it was my daddy’s number.”

To say Dean was shocked would be the understatement of the century, but he forced himself to remain calm, if only for the little girl who clearly needed help. John had gone out on a job, and Sam had walked to a nearby store to grab some supplies.

“Ok, well where’s your mommy?”

“The monster…he-he…” you broke down into sobs, and Dean didn’t need to hear anything else.

Dean was usually used to waiting for John’s orders before doing just about anything, but somehow now he knew just what to do. Every instinct inside him screamed to help you from the moment he heard your voice.

He didn’t know then, but that instinct would follow him for the rest of his life.

…

Dean’s relationship with you was different than his with Sam. Dean had practically raised Sam, but he literally raised you. The older the boys got, the more John left them for hunts. And there was the age difference; he was only four years older than Sam, but Dean had already grown up and started hunting by the time you came into his life. And after John died, the two of you became closer than ever, and he took on his role as caretaker even more seriously.

So, needless to say, hunting wasn’t in the cards for you. Of course Dean taught you how to defend yourself, but he knew that once you started hunting, you’d be stuck in that life forever, and that wasn’t a choice he was going to let you make as a teenager.

A part of you always wanted to fight him on it, not because you thought you’d love hunting, but because your big brothers risked their lives on an almost-daily basis, and you wanted to be there to help them. However, it didn’t take long for you to realize that being on a hunt would just put them in more danger; Dean would be so worried about you that he wouldn’t keep his head on straight. You weren’t going to be the reason he got distracted and killed on a hunt.

So you stayed behind.

But that didn’t mean that you were always safe.

…

“Crowley I swear, if you touch one hair on her head-“

“Let me guess, they’ll never find the body?”

“Oh no, they will,” Dean’s fists were clenched so hard, his palms were going numb. “They’ll find it, and they’ll keep finding it. Little bits, everywhere, maybe I’ll even drop you in a couple of different states. I’ll cut you up nice and slow, it’ll take weeks before you’re dead, and that’s if I’m feeling generous enough to let you die at all.”

“My my my, someone is very protective about his little pet. However, your mummy should’ve taught you some manners, because you see…” Dean flinched when he heard your screams over the phone. “I don’t like to be threatened, squirrel.”

“Ok, ok!” Dean relented. Your screams stopped.

“Good. Now, here’s my ultimatum,” Crowley’s voice rose in anger, “If you ever want to see this little runt again, the first thing you’re gonna do, is drop the attitude, and show some respect!” Crowley cleared his throat, and returned to his easygoing, neutral tone. “After all, I am the king of hell. And then, after that, you’re going to stop meddling in my affairs. That’s not so bad, is it?”

Dean was about to throw out a snarky response when your voice broke in.

“Don’t listen to him, Dean. He’s just a liar, he’ll betray y-“ your desperate, frightened voice cut off with a high-pitched scream, and Dean could swear he heard Crowley laughing.

“Now now, darling, that’s not very nice. Name-calling is for children. Oh that’s right,” Crowley’s laughter started up again. “You are a child.”

“Stop it!” Not seeing what was going on was driving Dean insane. He could only imagine what Crowley was doing to you. “Alright, Crowley, you get what you want. Just let her go!”

The screaming stopped again.

“Now, that’s sweet, Dean. But I’m afraid I don’t exactly trust your word. So, I’m going have to keep your little rugrat here for a little longer, just to make sure you make good on your promise. Deal?”

“No no no, Crowley you can’t just-“

“I think we’re done here.”

The click that followed might as well have been an atomic bomb.

…

“We got a location.”

Dean had never jumped up that fast in his entire life.

“Finally, let’s go.”

“Dean, hold on,” Sam placed his hand out, stopping Dean in his tracks. “We don’t know how many demons are guarding it.”

“You know what, Sam? I don’t really care. There could be a thousand demons in there for all I care. She’s in there, so I’m going.” Dean brushed past Sam, who reluctantly followed him into the Impala.

“I’m just saying, it would be nice to have a plan.”

“I have a plan.” Dean peeled out of the driveway and sped along the road.

“The plan is get her back.”

…

You heard them before you saw them. It would be impossible not to; the screaming of demons and the thud as bodies hit the floor wasn’t exactly quiet.

However, when the door burst open, it wasn’t your brothers who came in.

Crowley rushed toward you, his hand outstretched to grab you and teleport you with him. A split second before his hand reached your shoulder, the demon blade whizzed past his ear and struck his arm, throwing him off balance and onto the floor. Before he could get back up, Dean was on him, not even bothering with the knife as he pounded on Crowley’s face. Sam rushed in after him, grabbing Dean by the shoulder and pulling him off.

“That’s enough, Dean! Just use the kni-“

Before either brother could move towards the demon blade, Crowley had disappeared.

“No!” Dean slammed his fist against the wall, and was about to do it again when he heard it.

“Dean?”

Never, not even when you were little, had Dean ever heard you sound so small; so fragile. He turned, his gaze instantly softening, his fists relaxing as he rushed to your side. He quickly untied the ropes holding you to a metal chair, and as soon as you were free you collapsed into his waiting arms.

“You’re ok,” Dean’s eyes stung as he gripped you tightly to him. “You’re safe now, I’m here.”

“Is she ok?” Sam stepped up behind Dean, and Dean reluctantly pulled away to check you for injuries.

There was a gash along your cheek, and he saw several cuts on your arms and legs, but what really worried him was the blood covering the front of your shirt.

“Baby, can you…” Dean touched the pool of blood dripping down your stomach. You lifted your shirt a few inches, and he saw a deep cut running along your ribs. Blood was still gushing freely from the cut, and Dean quickly removed his top layer of flannel, pressing it against the wound.

Sam flinched when you cried out, and Dean winced.

“I know, I know it hurts honey. I need you to hold it there, though.” You took the shirt from him and he nodded, “Yeah, good, press it tight.” He glanced around one more time to be sure no demons were coming, before he scooped you into his arms. You cried out again when he jostled you, and he tried to ignore you as he turned to Sam.

“You gotta watch my back, I’ve got her, but I don’t know if there are any more demons still here.”

Sam nodded, taking the demon blade.

“Alright, I’ll drive.”

…

“Do we need to take her to a hospital?” Sam glanced to the back of the Impala, where your head was resting in Dean’s lap as he held his shirt against your cut.

“I’m ok,” your voice was quiet, almost sleepy.

“We should take her in,” Dean insisted.

“It doesn’t look like she’s lost that much blood,” Sam hesitantly argued.

“Dean, I’m ok,” you turned your gaze from your injury to your big brother. “Really, just stitch me up. I’ll be fine.”

Dean relented hesitantly, mostly because he didn’t put it past Crowley to try to alert local authorities to all the bodies he’d left in his wake saving you. The last thing you needed was to be stuck in a hospital while Sam and Dean got arrested.

“Alright, ok. But you gotta stay awake, understand?”

You were silent for a few seconds, and when your voice lifted he could hear the tears you were trying to hold back.

“He wouldn’t let me sleep.”

Dean felt the white-hot anger rising in him, but he forced it down.

“You…but you were gone for three days.”

“I know. But ev-every time I tried to sleep…” you picked at one of the cuts, and Dean got the picture. He glanced up to see Sam gripping the steering wheel with all his might, his knuckles turning snow-white.

“I’m sorry,” Dean’s soft voice was only beat by the softness in his eyes as he looked down at you. “I’m so sorry. But you gotta stay awake just a little bit longer, I’m sorry.”

You knew he wasn’t just apologizing for that.

“Dean, it’s not your fault.”

He turned to look out the window, and you knew he didn’t believe you.

“Dean,” you tried to raise your voice, but it just sent you into a fit of coughing. His head whipped back to look at you, and he squeezed his hand under your head, lifting you up a little so you could breathe.

“Honey, don’t talk, don’t talk. You’re ok, just breathe.”

“Dean,” you took a deep breath, “Dean it’s not. It’s not your fault-“

“Shh, shh,” he insisted, eyes flitting nervously over your face. “Kiddo please, don’t talk.”

“Then say it.”

Dean sighed, and you knew he wouldn’t mean it, but you wanted him to say it anyway.

“It wasn’t my fault.”

…

“I’m sorry,” Dean winced when you sucked in a breath, trying desperately to stay still as he sewed you up.

“I’m ok,” you insisted.

“Ok, I’m done,” Dean tied off the last stitch, and you hesitantly stood and headed to your bathroom to shower off the blood that was all but covering you.

Dean sat on your bed while you were gone, staring down at the blood on his hands, disgusted but somehow unable to get up to wash it off.

He stayed there until you returned, a clean shirt and your pajama pants on. You stepped up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He glanced up, opening his mouth to speak before closing it again. You tugged on his arm without speaking, and he followed you mechanically as you pulled him into your bathroom.

You turned on the sink water and guided his hands under the flow, rubbing his hands until they were clean and your blood was running down the drain. You handed him a soft towel, and he slowly dried his hands.

The two of you stood there in silence, unsure of whether to move or not. Then suddenly, the two of you moved in sync. He opened his arms just as you moved towards him, and he wrapped you into his arms. One of his hands cradled the back of your head, while the other rested on the small of your back. You felt his chin rest on the top of your head, his arms tightening around you.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked.

You wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but you knew that you could scream it til doomsday and Dean still wouldn’t believe it. So instead you said what he needed to hear.

“I’m ok.”

…

You weren’t the only one who hadn’t been able to sleep during your captivity, and you knew it. Dean looked horrible, his eyes dark and his hair greasy and sticking out in strange angles. You didn’t think you could convince him to eat or shower, not yet at least. He hadn’t left your side in the hour since you got back, and you figured he would want to watch over you while you slept.

So, if you couldn’t make him eat, you figured you at least knew a way to make him sleep.

You let him tuck you into your bed before grabbing onto his arm as he turned to go.

“Stay with me,” you insisted. He nodded and reached to grab a chair.

“No, with me,” you lifted a corner of the blanket. Dean didn’t speak, he just climbed in next to you and let you lean against his arm.

After a few minutes, Dean’s breathing evened out and you smiled.

He was your protector, always.

But maybe there was some ways that you could save him, too.

#dean winchester x you #the winchester brothers #dean winchester x reader #spn sam winchester #dean winchester #dean and sam #dean winchester x sister!reader #dean x you #dean x reader #sam and dean #sam x sister!reader #supernatural sam #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x y/n #supernatural dean #supernatural

[luveline]

hiii, i just wanna say i absolutely adoreee ur writing ur amazing and fabulous. I wanted to request something with hotch where reader gets hurt pretty badly in the field and is gonna have to spend a lot of time in recovery (so like not being able to work in the field for a while) and just a lot of fluff and comforting? (thx ur the bestest ever ever ever and i <3 u i’ve been reading ur stuff for years)

love u <3 fem

Your leg is broken in four different places. 

Hotch is sure you're going to cry the moment you realise what that means, but he isn't expecting for it to be a minute after you've woken up. 

“We'll get you something for the pain,” a nurse promises.

“It's not that,” you say, you sob, looking between your leg and Hotch as though you're hoping he'll tell you something different. 

You live for your job. They all have their reasons, and they all have their vices. You and Hotch are the same —you can't live without this. There's no alternative. 

But your leg is undeniably broken. 

The nurse gives him a look, hoping he'll calm you down, and he would've started the moment your eyes welled with tears if he thought he could change the outcome. Still, it breaks his heart to see you so immediately upset. He has to try something. 

“It's not forever,” he says.

“How long?” 

“Not forever.” The break, the surgery, the physical therapy. He asked for the estimates. He doesn't want to be the one to tell you, but you won't accept it from anyone else. “Six months.” 

The broken leg isn't the end of it. Your wrist is fractured, your pinky and ring finger broken, a laceration the length of his hand up your thigh. You were concussed, you're still at risk of agitating all the things you've hurt. Your face crumples and you can't even cover it with two hands like you would. It is, admittedly, the worst you've ever been at. Hotch can't stand it.  

“Would you excuse us?” he asks the nurse. “I have her.” 

“Hotch,” you say as the door closes, your voice achingly unhappy, “make them check again.” 

He takes your uninjured wrist. Holds it. “They've done everything they can do. I promise you, I was here for all of it. I argued against the pins, I knew they'd keep you here longer, I– against my better judgement, I sent people away because I knew you wouldn't want them to see you like this. This is the best outcome I could salvage.” 

“This is the best?” you ask, shaking your head at him. “This is my life.” 

You didn't see yourself. The way you'd laid there after it was over. You don't get that this is a good thing, that you weren't hurt worse. All you can see is months of desk duty, and he can't even blame you, because six months away would make him ill. 

“This is the best I could do for you,” he says, rubbing your wrist with his thumb. “I'm sorry.” 

His apology catches you off guard. You make a sound near a hiccup and turn to him completely, the fat body of a tear dripping down your cheek to your chin, where it stays. He can see the question before you've asked it and he won't make you, either, leaning down to cover you up with his arms, his chin atop your head. “I'm sorry, honey. I know how much it means to you.” 

“It's…” Your good arm works around him weakly, a hesitant touch to his back. “Not your fault. I…” 

He lets you fade, rubbing at the top of your arm, enthusing you with as much warmth as he can. “Six months recovery doesn't mean six months out of the field,” he promises. “In two months you'll be walking. It won't feel as long as you're thinking.” 

“In a boot.” 

In a full cast, poor thing. He frowns, pressing his nose into your head. “You can consult from home just as soon as you're home,” he says softly, still rubbing your arm. The touch turns to a gentle stroking, his palm numb to the ticklish sensation your naked arm brings, the sleeve of your hospital gown bunching with each line he makes. 

“I know you're unhappy, but it will heal. And you have an army of people who can't wait to see you. We… things have been complicated.” 

“How long was I out?” you ask. 

“You were awake between surgeries, but it's been two days.” 

You hug him with more insistence. “Thanks for looking after me,” you whisper. 

Oh, sweetheart, he could say. He could kiss your crown. Honestly, Hotch could take your face into his hands and suddenly he is, he's holding your face and looking down at you, eyes dark and sorry to your silvery tears. 

He strokes your cheek. “It'll be alright,” he promises. 

You dissolve into tears again in his hands. He wipes them away as they come, for as long as they will. It's the least he'd do for you. 

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

[artbean]

Corroded Coffin is back with their sophomore album, Memento Mori Motel.

With even more groundbreaking songs than the last album, those four boys from Hawkins Indiana have transformed into men with a message and a cohesive vision—keeping fans of rock and metal mesmerized by their musical innovation that defies genre entirely. (@eddiemonth day 8: rockstar)

The opening track, Jack Of All, plays like an instant classic. The riffs are crisp and clear as they poke fun at both their newfound fame and rural roots. I’m climbing up the walls / You just don’t have the balls / I’m never gonna fall / ‘cause I’m the Jack of All. The second song, If I Object (Objectify), is all noise, with hardly even a second to breathe before the wailing cries at the end. The words if I object melt into the word objectify, closing out the song in a soaring scream.

Hit The Nail Out Of The Park is a thoughtful examination of American boyhood, without shying away from how ugly growing up can be. The tempo may be slower but the track has a grit to it that can’t be ignored. Six Feet Under continues to wow audiences as the lead single, comparing the slow death of a relationship to being buried alive. Daisies sprout overhead / In the thick of goodbye / Now it’s just me in a flowerbed / Eternally wondering why.

In the second half of the album, Necrotizing Facist Idol isn’t afraid to punch up with hard hits or make a political statement. The message is pretty clear in the chorus: He’s eaten away at too much of our lives / He’s going to pay for his sins when he dies / No time to wait / Let’s amputate / The necrotizing fascist idol. 24hr lobotomy is more of an internal struggle of self destructive tendencies, and the desire to numb any feeling at all—and ultimately crashing down to earth when the vices wear off.

Postcard From Hell is a lighthearted, tongue-in-cheek vision of life after death, musing on the afterlife being not unlike a long, grueling vacation. The album ends on a tender yet bittersweet note, with the mysteriously titled Microscopic Fibers (Dying Star). The harmonizing guitars at the end is a standout moment as the song goes out with a bang, which turns into the whisper of the final notes. I can see your fire from light years through time / Like a star that died before it ever graced my eyes / Oh, slipping through my fingers (fingers, fingers) / Oh, how your presence lingers (lingers, lingers).

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson #rockstar!eddie munson #corroded coffin #eddie munson edit #unnamed freak stranger things #jeff stranger things #gareth emerson #st fanart #stranger things fan art #st4 #st #lexidoodledoo #2023 #cceu #eddiemonth #usermaguire #usertiny #userallisyn

[puppy-steve]

Between discovering the Russian bunker under Starcourt, discovering their plans to get into the Upside Down, being caught by said Russians and tortured, after making sure Dustin and Erica got out of there, Steve was confident that this was an isolated incident.

Hopper had assured them that El had closed the gate at Hawkins Lab, saw it with his own eyes. So maybe if they (he, Robin, Dustin, and Erica) dealt with this one on their own, it wouldn’t be so bad. There were no monsters this time, at least.

Steve had naive hope that the others wouldn’t have to get involved.

But as the four of them are chased through the mall by a big guy with a gun, Steve and Robin still coming down from a truth serum high, his hope turns into dread.

Because a show car is suddenly flung from the floor and into the group of Russians that have them cornered behind a counter in the food court, and there’s only one person he knows with the ability to do that.

They all slowly peer over the counter, and sure enough, El is standing at the forefront, her hand extended in front of her and her nose bleeding. The other kids plus Nancy, Jonathan, and Eddie are with her. Steve’s stomach drops and the nauseating feeling from earlier is back, but it’s not from the drugs this time.

Eddie makes a beeline toward him and Robin while Dustin greets the others with enthusiasm, Erica a little starstruck over El.

“What the hell happened?” Eddie demands, eyes flitting frantically all over Steve’s face and taking in the worst of the damage. Steve knows he must look like shit– he can’t see that great out of his left eye and that whole side of his face has gone numb.

Billy bashing his face in last year has nothing on the pain he’s feeling now.

“It’s a long story,” Steve says as he leans heavily into Eddie’s space. Eddie’s hands land on his shoulders and he holds him gently, like he’s afraid of hurting him even more. “I’ll tell you after this is all over.”

“Steve–”

“Teddy.” Steve pulls back and looks him in the eye, as well as he can. He must have not puked everything out of his system like Robin thought because he still feels a little giddy when he reaches up and taps Eddie on the nose. “Later. I promise.”

There’s really no time to say anything else because Robin and Erica need to be brought up to speed about everything and he and Dustin need to be caught up on what’s happening now, and when they are, Steve desperately wishes that it was just the Russians they had to deal with.

Help comes in the form of Hopper, Ms. Byers, and a balding man that Steve’s never met. While they’re all squabbling and trying to come up with a half baked plan, Eddie finds a first aid kit in one of the kitchens and makes Steve sit on a counter so he can try to patch him up. They don’t speak, but Steve grips Eddie’s unoccupied hand while Eddie stands close between his legs.

There isn’t much time between then and everybody splitting off into groups. Scoops Troop plus Eddie all pile into the TODFTHR (“You sure you’re her daddy, sweetheart?” Eddie teases with a smirk and Steve’s glad the bruising hides his blush.)

Everything gets a little fuzzy after they leave the kids at Weathertop. When he’s asked later, he’ll say he remembers hearing that song from that one movie, but he’s not sure if it actually happened. He’s so hyped up on adrenaline, it’s probably the only thing keeping him conscious.

Steve doesn’t remember making the decision to t-bone Billy’s car, but he does remember the horrific scene inside the mall; the Mindflayer screeching and its tentacle-like appendages swinging this way and that. He remembers pelting it with explosives to distract it from attacking El. He looks down and his stomach lurches when he sees the monster go straight through Billy’s chest.

He hears Eddie let out a strangled curse beside him and Steve has to ignore the bile rising in his throat. He knows there’s been casualties; Barb in ‘83, Ms. Byers’ boyfriend last year, however many people the Mindflayer had killed this year.

This is the first death he’s ever seen in person.

He’s still reeling from it when Owens and the military swarm the building once the monster is finally defeated. They’re all pulled in separate directions for medical attention and questioning. Steve feels downright miserable, sitting in the back of an ambulance with Robin, a shock blanket over his shoulders. He squeezes her hand and gives her a small smile.

“I’m sorry you got dragged into this,” he says.

Robin takes a shaky breath. “Yeah. I’m still trying to wrap my head around all of it. I think for once in my life, I’m speechless.”

Eddie finds them after he’s been looked over and Steve opens his arms to pull him in for a hug, wrapping both of them in the blanket. Eddie presses a kiss to his forehead and Steve sags against him. They take a moment to breathe each other in, basking in the fact that they’re both alive.

“They want to take us to the hospital,” Steve says. “They’re pretty sure I have a concussion but they want to run tests to make sure there isn’t any other damage.” He nods to Robin. “And they wanna keep us under 24 hour observation 'cause of the drugs.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie breathes, eyes sliding shut.

Steve frowns and uses the corner of the blanket to brush against Eddie’s cheek comfortingly. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes with a grimace. “This probably wasn’t how you were expecting to spend your birthday.”

Eddie turns his head and kisses his fingers. “No, baby,” he says. “Absolutely nothin’ for you to be sorry about. Had me and Wayne worried sick when you didn’t come home last night, though. I was close to callin’ Hopper when Lucas started screaming code red over the radio.”

Steve doesn’t want to think about how that probably worried them even more. “Your present’s in my car,” he says instead. “You can’t have it until I’m discharged, though. I wanna see your face when you open it.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “That just makes me even more curious, sweetheart.”

He pinches Steve’s side playfully, but gently. Steve stifles a giggle and leans into him more, very aware of how Robin’s watching them like a hawk.

“No peeking,” Steve warns, pointing a finger in Eddie’s face. “It’s a surprise.”

Eddie only nips at his finger. Steve doesn’t even blink. Sighing, Eddie releases his finger and marks a cross over his heart. “I promise I won’t do any snooping.”

Steve pats his cheek. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a shit liar, Munson?”

They break into giggles, their heads bent forward, and Eddie would’ve leaned in for a kiss if it weren’t for Robin clearing her throat rather loudly. Steve curls into Eddie’s front, Eddie’s arm going around his shoulders. God, he’d give anything to be at home and asleep in their bed.

“I’m still very confused about this whole thing,” Robin says, waving a hand in their direction. “I just fought a monster from a whole other dimension, but this is probably the biggest shocker of my life.”

“Strange things follow this group around like a shadow,” Eddie says, like it’s the most casual thing in the world. And for him, it is. “You better get used to it, Buckley, 'cause you’re one of us now.”

written and originally posted for @flowercrowngods birthday 🤍 dio is an absolute treasure and a great friend to have and is my #1 gseb stan. happy belated birthday!!! 💙

🥐☕💕 buy me a coffee?

#cj talks #gseb #steddie #steddie ficlet #dio 🤍 #steddie fic #cj writes

[she-is-ovarit]

Identifying as.

This is Rachel Dolezal, who legally changed her name to Nkechi Amare Diallo. Dolezal is a white woman who identifies as black and insists that she is transracial. Growing up, her religious white parents adopted four black babies, claiming that they "saved them from being aborted", and routinely delivered strict punishments to their kids including Dolezal. Dolezal does not seem to have a good relationship with her parents and, based on interviews, wanted to distance herself from them and distance herself from rural white culture.

"I've never questioned being a girl or woman, for example, but whiteness has always felt foreign to me, for as long as I can remember. I didn't choose to feel this way or be this way, I just am. What other choice is there than to be exactly who we are?"

She apparently "passed as black" for several years before her parents came out and said that she was white and is identifying as a black woman, and she was asked in a TV interview if she was African American and responded with "I don't understand the question". She taught Africana Studies at Eastern Washington University. She crafted a fake story in growing up as black and has argued that she experiences race-based related hate crimes. She darkens her skin and gets perms and started using hair products she observed her adopted black sibling to use. She lied about her father being black and lied that her black adopted brother was her son.

I hope that as details of Dolezal's story are read about, we are able to understand that tanning white skin does not make someone a black person, that blackface is wrong and racist. I hope we recognize that what makes someone black isn't a collection of racial stereotypes, isn't based on feeling a kinship with black people more than with white people, and that being black isn't based on not feeling a connection with white culture. I hope we understand that a black person cannot identify out of racial oppression, and that a white person cannot identify out of white privilege.

Jewel Shuping, age 38 now, was born healthy but dreamed of being blind since age 13. She stated her mother would tell stories about finding her walking down dark hallways at age 3, and mentioned that by age 6 the thought of being blind comforted her. When she was a teenager, Shuping bought a white cane and learned to read braille, becoming fluent in it by age 20.

She claims to have asked a psychologist to pour bleach in her eyes so she could fulfill her lifelong dream of being blind, and that the psychologist "understood her" and agreed to do so after giving her numbing eye drops to help with the pain (which was not ultimately helpful). She deliberately waited to seek medical attention so doctors were unable to save her eyesight. Gradually, over the course of six months, she became blind.

What Shuping has is considered a real mental health condition called Body Integrity Identity Disorder (BIID), a rare condition in which people who are born without disabilities believe with conviction that the should be disabled. There is another name for this in political activist circles, termed "transableism".

"I went blind on purpose, but I don't feel it was a choice."

Several other people with BIID are pretending to be paralyzed to use wheelchairs, with many not being driven to the point of causing harm to themselves to become disabled but instead living full lives faking being disabled.

I hope that as details of the stories of people pretending to be disabled are read about, we are able to understand that feeling like oneself should be disabled is an incredibly serious mental health condition and does not really mean that a person is "disabled inside". I hope we recognize that identifying as disabled does not make someone disabled, and that feeling a kinship with disabled people or a comfort in the thought of being disabled does not mean a person truly is or should become disabled. I hope we understand how people with mental health disorders claiming to be disabled can place further strain on resources and accommodations provided to disabled people. I hope we understand that inflicting pain, disfigurement, or physical altercations on healthy people to "help them physically match how they feel" is an inhumane way to treat a mental health condition.

Paul Wolscht, who changed his name to Stefonknee Wolscht, was married to a woman for over 20 years and fathered 7 children before deciding to live life identifying as a six year old little girl. Living as a six year old little girl allows Wolscht to escape depression and suicidal thoughts because Wolscht gets to now play - even when in jail in solitary confinement for nine days for an undisclosed reason.

“If I’m six-years-old, I don’t have to think about adult stuff.”

Wolscht still drives and drinks coffee, but does so feeling and identifying as a six year old.

Emile Ratelband, age 69, petitioned the courts to allow him to change his age to 20 years younger because he "does not feel" 69 years old. Ratelband has argued that he did not feel comfortable with his date of birth, that age 69 did not accurately reflect his mental state, and that at age 69 he experiences limits.

“When I’m 69, I am limited. If I’m 49, then I can buy a new house, drive a different car,” he said. “I can take up more work. When I’m on Tinder and it says I’m 69, I don’t get an answer. When I’m 49, with the face I have, I will be in a luxurious position.”

Ratelband even asserted that doctors have told him he has the body of a man 20 years younger, and he said that he was willing to renounce his right to a pension. He argues that if people are able to legally change their sex on documents, there is no reason why he should not be able to change his age.

I hope that as we read these stories of people identifying as a different age, we are able to understand that feeling like you are 20 years younger or 40 years younger does not really make you that age. I hope that we understand that even though identifying as a different age might help avoid suicidal thoughts, being discriminated against on dating apps, or denied resources, it does not really change biologically what is. I hope we understand that there are also broader societal and legal consequences to being able to legally change one's age. That an adult might identify as a certain age to trick kids into trusting them so they can sexually abuse them, and/or that allowing an adult to legally consider themselves a different age would make it easier for adult predators to gain legal access to kids in environments in which they would normally be socially and legally discouraged from being in.

#trans #trans identity #transgender #trans pride #trans people #LGBTQ #lgbtq community #gender #transage #transabled #transracial #racism #ageism #sexism #ableism #disability rights #gay rights #LGB #women's rights #elder rights #mental health

[saltywritings]

something borrowed (sirius black x reader + remus lupin x reader)

warnings: minors dni: smut, heavy smut. somewhat dubcon vibes? smut as a favor, slight cuckold vibes?, penetration, humiliations.

summary: your boyfriend sirius asks you to do him a favor, you'd do anything for sirius, but you're surprised when he asks you to take the virginity of his best mate, remus lupin.

sirius was busy rutting into you, his large hands were gripping so tightly on your waist that his knuckles were turning white. the room was filled with the sound of his skin slapping against your bare ass and the low grunts that were leaving both of your lips. you remained on all fours, head tilting back as you while another moan escaped from your lips. if he cared of anyone walking in sirius would have locked the door or attempted to hush you a bit. but that was the thing, sirius didn't care. if anything it got him off more, knowing how everyone could hear you.

"fuck- that good huh, bunny?" sirius cooed to you, still thrusting his cock inside of you.

you only managed to mumble out something of a reassurance, as you moaned out for sirius. sirius could feel you tightening around him, approaching your orgasm. one of his hands finally released you from the grip he held on the side of your ass and moved down to your clit, the pad of his thumb giving no mercy as he rubbed circles on it. it was only moment before you tightened around him harder then before, and your release quickly followed. the coil inside you letting go and you begun screaming sirius's name as he thrusted faster.

despite reaching your second orgasm, nearly collapsing on the bed, sirius didn't stop thrusting into you.

he paid no attention to your shaking legs as he continued. "good girl, good girl" sirius cooed his hand moving back to the side of your waist to get a better grip of you, to control how you moved for him. "you like be a good girl for me, don't you, bunny?" sirius questioned you, a mild pant finally leaving his lips after he spoke, the heat from his breath spreading throughout the space of the twin bed the two of you shared.

"yes, siri- i would do anything to be a good girl for you" you whined, hips backing up- to meet with sirius's as he continued to thrust himself inside of you. his cock was beginning to twitch inside you, he was getting close, and you could feel it.

"good, i need a favor then bunny," sirius groaned out the speed of his hips increasing as he slammed his cock into your overstimulated pussy, nearly begging for his release, a low build up once again forming within you.

"anything siri, please-" you whined again, your hands now balled into fist, both grabbing the silk sheets on the bed.

"i need you to fuck remus-" sirius said, he continued inside of you but you froze for a moment. the request was unlike anything sirius had ever asked you to do and honestly you were caught so off guard you didn't even know how to react. "he's still a virgin, y/n. isn't that pathetic? seventh year and never felt the touch of a woman?" sirius asked, he was laughing a bit, groaning after with his hands nearly going numb as he continued to his thrust, they were hard, and showed no signs of stopping.

"wait- you want me to sleep with remus?" you questioned, trying to process the question as you were once again on the verge of cumming, the request he made being the only thing stopping you from reaching it again.

"fuck, i promised i would get i laid by the end of the year, and i can't find a single girl in hogwarts whose willing to go through with it," sirius explained between grunts, "i'll be right in the room with you, baby. the entire time, just please bunny. please say you'll do it" sirius was practically begging at his point.

"okay, fine- i-i'll do it" you finally agreed, hesitating slightly. the idea felt out of this world and for a moment you wondered if this was even a real request or some kind of strange fantasy he had created. sirius smiled to you, though you were unable to see as your eyes were focused on the shaking footboard that was in front of you.

"good girl, good girl" sirius praised you, finally reaching the peek of his orgasm. his seed spilling into you and coating your walls, as they clenched onto him, and milked him in the same way they would soon be doing to remus. "fuck, thank you bunny, thank you" sirius let out as his hips finally had come to a lazy stop. pulling out of and looking down for a moment as he watched his seed spill from deep within you.

"it'll be tomorrow night, wear something black-"

sirius had practically dressed you that night. instructing you to sit on the bed as his large hand pulled black stockings to your thighs, his hands slipped the black lacey dress over your nude body, and his hands were the ones who strapped the black choker onto your neck. "going to show remus how good of a pet you are for me, aren't you, bunny?" sirius mumbled in your ear while he on a chair at the corner of the dorm, arms around your waist as he kept you on his lap. you could only nod in response as you waited for remus to enter the dorm. it was nerve racking, waiting to fuck one of your boyfriends friends. but sirius was asking you to do this for him, and you had no real problem with remus. he was sweet, anyway. you attempted to look at it more and more like helping a friend.

when the door opened your head swung with sirius's, looking as remus stepped in. no words were initially spoken. instead sirius and remus only locked eyes, remus shutting the door behind him softly. "strip for her, remus" sirius demanded of his friend, you were unaware of the understanding that the boys had come to.

remus wanted it to only be you and him in the room, but sirius insisted to be there. to be in control of what he did with you, and it was because of this that remus obeyed him. his hands loosening the gryffindor tie from his neck before tossing it in the near by hamper. his fingers nimbly and quickly unbuttoned the white shirt that clung around his frame and his pants soon followed. it was only a matter of a minute before he had been nude in front of you, and he was already hard.

part of you wondered if he had been thinking about you, and another part of you was concerned by how turned on the thought of him lusting for you the entire day. the other part of you only grew concerned with the fact that this was actually happening. that one of your boyfriends best friends was now removing his trousers to reveal himself to you. that you were the one who was going to take his virginity. did remus even want this? did you want this?

your eyes traveled down remus's toned body. scars were littered across his shoulders and stomach. some of them were even slashed amongst his thighs, though, your eyes were not caught on the scars for long. he was already hard, just from being nude in front of you. though shy remus lupin was unable to even look you in the eyes now that he was exposed. you and sirius just staring at him as he waited for some command. which sirius was quick to give him.

"go lay on the bed, remus" sirius instructed of him. remus did not hesitate to walk over to the twin bed. the brunette was tall enough where his feet were hanging off slightly, he still had his socks on. "go on pet, make it good for him." sirius instructed you now giving you a small slap on the ass in order to get you to leave his side. like remus had done just a moment prior, you obeyed.

in a shy way you made small and soft steps across the wood floor of the dormitory and over to the bed. your eyes met remus's just for a moment as you offered him a sweet smile. remus did the same back and his hazel eyes met yours in the comfortable silence. though, even sweet remus allowed his eyes to travel down your body to look at the tight black lace that was clinging to your body. you wondered if you should say something, a greeting- but formalities weren't important. not now. not for this. therefore, with no introduction you carefully pulled yourself onto the bed. you were on top of remus one of your legs at each of his sides and his hard cock was pulsing underneath you. it was tucked up against your thigh and just the touch of your skin was enough to get him twitching.

remus wanted this to be good. he wanted this to be good for you. he had rubbed himself out four times prior to coming here; the thought of you viscously on his mind as he thought of how his hand would be your tight pussy tonight. that it would finally be him who would be filling you and making you whine. sounds he had heard you make for sirius time and time again. but now? now it was his turn.

"merlin, you're so fucking pretty" remus mumbled, a small pink blush flooded to your cheeks at his compliment. "can i touch you?" remus asked, his eyes looking up to you. for a moment you thought of asking sirius. however, without even thinking of asking for his permission you nodded, giving him the go ahead to explore your body. one of his large hands worked quickly, moving up your body to squeeze one of your breast underneath his hands. his breathing was becoming heavy at your touch. you only gave him a smile, enjoying the feeling of him squeezing on your breast. remus took two of his fingers to his lips, wetting them with his spit. his fingers made quick way underneath the lace underwear, unbuckling them to give him access. you were going to help him find your clit, but remus seemed to have no trouble finding it.

his large fingers made his way to your clit and was quick to rub circles around it. you bit down on your bottom lip for a moment before releasing it from between your teeth. your moans were soft but encouraging to remus. the gryffindor boy continued on rubbing in circles before placing his thumb directly on your clit; he as smiling. no, no. remus lupin was grinning, teeth showing with pride as you- sirius's girlfriend- was growing wet and slick on his fingers.

"enough of that now; don't want to get her tired, remus. trust me-" sirius called out from behind you. for a moment, caught up in your bliss you forget that sirius was behind you. you forget this entire thing was an arrangement. therefore, under the command of sirius remus did stop, pulling his fingers away and bringing them to his own mouth to suck them clean.

"you ready, remmy?" you questioned gently, remus nodded immediately. without hesitation. your hands gently took the base of his cock to hold it steady at your entrance. the tip brushing against it for a second as remus let out a groan. you sunk down on him slowly, spreading yourself onto remus who was a bit longer then sirius was- causing you to bite your own lip as you felt yourself stretching with him inside of you, once he was fully in you. you were taking him well.

remus, however, let out an earthy "fuck-" the moment you finally had taken all of him in. you felt better than he could have ever imagined. his hands were digging into your hips for something to grip onto and his head was thrown back against the pillow. he couldn't even bring his eyes to look at the sight of you on his cock. you waited for a moment, allowing him to at least get use to the feeling of your pussy clamped around him, before starting to move your hips. you bounced up and down on his cock, slowly, his nails still digging into your hips as you did so. remus was moaning from the movements; gentle, and yet you were intoxicating. driving him crazy.

you bounced up and down, up and down, up and -you went to go back down but when you sunk onto him again you could feel him pulsing inside of you. he was gritting curses through his teeth, and he was already painting your inner walls with his seed. it took you a second to realize he was already cumming and sirius as well. however, the moment sirius came to the realization he broke out into laughter.

"you're done already remus? that lasted a whole fifteen seconds. merlin, that's pathetic." sirius was laughing, you watched as remus's face went completely red with embarrassment though he quickly switched from embarrassment to anger. seething, blinding, anger.

"shut your mouth, sirius. i'm not done-" remus barked back at him. with his hands on your hips he flipped you over. your back now on the bed as he had pulled out of you. his thick seed was spilling out of you when he pulled his cock out. it happened so quickly you barely had a moment to process. remus had a clenched jaw, biting down on his own teeth. his hand was wrapped around his flaccid cock as he pumped it viscously as he had done early that, forcing himself through the pain to get himself hard again. you were going to plead with remus to calm down or to tell sirius to shut his mouth as well. but before you had a second to process what you were going to say remus was pushing himself back into you. you yelped a bit as remus was over you. his shaggy brunet hair falling into his face as he began to rut into you without mercy.

moans were quick to fall from your lips as remus slammed himself into you. you were loud; almost whining at how good he had been making you feel as he slammed himself into you. your moans were the confidence he needed to continue, one of his hands reaching down to your pussy to rub your clit under his thumb again. "seven hells remus- i'm gonna, i'm gonna-" you couldn't even form the words as hot coils formed at the bottom of your stomach.

"say it, say it-" remus demanded of you, his thumb giving no mercy to your clit and his cock no mercy to your pussy. he slammed into you as you tried to form the words. but he could feel the way you clenched around him, how tight you were squeezing him. the feeling of your pussy clenching around him made him want to cum again, but he couldn't. not yet. not now that sirius was trying to make a fool of him.

"i'm cumming, fuck, i'm cumming remus-" you cried out, your pussy spasming on his cock as he continued to thrust in and out of you. he was smiling again, that wide grin, as you were screaming for him. crying into the dormitory, making sirius who sat in the chair jealous that remus was able to make you cum so quickly.

remus continued to thrust himself into you at a near violent rate, the sound of your moans and yipes were only motivating him. remus never heard sirius make you this loud. if anything he was sure any dorm around them would be hearing how you were screaming for his cock. he could feel you starting to tighten around him again and he let out a grunt through gritted teeth.

"you like that? hm?" remus questioned you, his face was close to yours now. his long hair dripping down and tickling your cheeks. you had let out some sort of sound to signify yes, that you were loving this. but that didn't seem to be enough for remus. not this time. "tell me how it feels, y/n" remus demanded of you only applying more pressure with his thumb to your swollen clit.

"it feels so good remus- so good" you managed to muster out through your moans, the sound of his skin slapping against yours filled the room. you could hear the slick that covered his cock when he plunged into you time and time again. remus was deep within you and within moments the hot coil inside of you snapped again bringing on to your second orgasm. your back arched on the bed and remus's hands were now pushing down your thighs to keep them open for him against your own orgasm.

"don't stop- say it again. say it." remus demanded without mercy, you could feel him twitching inside of you, and the ruthlessness of his thrust were starting to bring tears to your eyes. the pleasure was intense in a way you had never really felt before with sirius.

"fuck- remus it's so good, so fucking good-" you cursed through the mess of your moans. you continued to repeat it under his command. his eyes seemed darker. almost dark brown in comparison to the almond color they normally were. he was mumbling curses as he slammed into you and without warning you could feel him twitching inside of you again. spilling himself into you, plunging his hips deep as if he was to leave his seed. remus went as deep as he could wondering if he plunged so far in that he'd be able to keep a part of himself in you forever. remus continued to give a few more sloppy thrust into you before he pulled out breathless.

remus wanted to thank you, his eyes met yours again in the clarity of being done. he wanted to ask you if you were okay, and if the situation was different he would have pulled you into his arms and kissed you. remus looked down at you, looking as his cum was dripping from your sore pussy. he never got a chance to decide what to say as sirius stood up from the chair in the corner. "finally, not a virgin remus, congrats mate" sirius called out, the both of you forgetting that he was there. even if it was only for a second. "now kindly do us a favor and fuck off, would you. after you say thank you to bunny of course-" sirius spoke to him. remus looked to the ground and quickly begun to put his clothes back on.

"yeah, thanks y/n. really." remus went on to say, wishing his thank you could have been more genuine and not under the influence of sirius. remus wanted to tell you how had been thinking of you and nothing but you for years. he wanted to tell you of how he pined for you. of how he thought of you each day, and how much he had hated himself for letting sirius get you before he could. remus wanted to kiss you and pull you close to him in his bed. remus wanted you and he would do anything he could to get you again. you were going to be his if it took killing sirius to get to you.

though, unknowing to what remus was thinking, you just watched remus walk out the door fully dressed leaving you covered in his cum and aching.

"so, are you going to clean yourself up and give me a go?"

authors note: thank you for reading! i've only just returned to writing on tumblr. please consider reblogging or commenting. it would mean the world to me to motivate me!

#remus lupin smut #remus #lupin #remus lupin x reader #dark remus #dark remus lupin #dark remus lupin x reader #dark remus lupin smut #dark remus smut #sirius black smut #sirius black x reader #marauders smut #marauders x reader #dark marauders #dark marauders smut #dark marauders sirius #dark marauders remus #sirius black and remus lupin smut #james potter smut #peter pettigrew smut #regulus black x reader #marauders imagine #marauders prefrences #dark sirius black #dark regulus black

[bro-atz]

persistent desire

in which: you and your childhood friends go drinking, and seonghwa confesses that he has at some point been attracted to you

pair: seonghwa/afab!reader

word count: 6k

content: smut, college!au, friends to ???, bedroom sex, insatiable!seonghwa, completely consensual!

apply for the permanent taglist here!

You laid there on your bed, your mind completely numb. You didn’t know how much time had passed for you dissociate this bad, but all you knew was that it was dark outside when you started, and now the sunrise was painting the apartment in shades of red and orange. You could hear him breathing hard, and you looked to see that he was still not satisfied. His eyebrows were furrowed and his lips were pressed together, but his hold on you was weak. That being said, he still had the energy and desperation to keep going.

It started that morning. Well, technically, it started years ago— like back in middle school years ago— but the trigger was that morning. The four of you were at the popular coffee shop on campus studying: you, Seonghwa, San, and Wooyoung. You all had your laptops in front of you and were typing away.

“I don’t like this assignment,” Wooyoung complained loudly.

“Why’d you even bother taking that class? It’s not even required for our major,” Seonghwa asked while rolling his eyes.

“I needed one more class and this was the only one that had space that fit in my schedule! If I don’t have a full load of courses, then my status becomes part-time, and I need to be a full-time student if I want to keep my scholarship.”

“How much is the scholarship?” San asked.

“Seventy-five percent of my current tuition.”

“Oof… Well, you still have to suffer through the assignment since you did choose the class in the first place,” you gave Wooyoung some much needed tough love.

With a huge, dramatic sigh, Wooyoung got back to his assignment. Periodically, Seonghwa leaned over your shoulder to look at what you were doing— the two of you were in the same class, so you both had the same assignment— and he did one of two things each time: either his shoulder rubbed against yours, or his knee would. He always did it to piss you off, and it was kind of working right now. By the fifth time he did that, you kicked his chair away, earning a laugh from him.

“Dude, knock it off! You can’t even cheat on this assignment!” you said with mild annoyance as you continued to push him away.

“I totally can, I just need to paraphrase,” he argued back with a light tone.

“You were assigned a different section! What do you mean?!”

That was how your friendship went. From the moment the two of you met in middle school, then when you added San and Wooyoung to your little friend group in high school, life barely changed— it only got more complex. The classes got harder, the homework heavier, and the relationships more serious. Well, it was mostly Wooyoung who was dating, but Seonghwa would bring a crazy bitch around every so often. San went on the occasional date, but you didn’t have the hint of a romantic life. Not a single guy ever looked at you. You wondered if it was because you spent a lot of time with three ridiculously attractive boys— that was the only logical explanation, after all.

“Alright, so what’s the plan for tonight?” Wooyoung asked after triumphantly closing his laptop.

“I’m free, as per usual,” you said.

“Same,” San added.

“Alright, that leaves you, Seonghwa.”

“I’m good, too,” Seonghwa nodded.

“You broke up with that crazy bitch?” Wooyoung asked with mild shock.

“We weren’t ever really dating, were we?”

“What do you mean? Of course you were,” San said with confusion.

“I would hardly consider three dates “dating”. Besides, we never even slept together.”

“Wow, she broke up with you, didn’t she?” you bit back a loud laugh.

“No, I broke up with her.”

“Sure, whatever you say, Romeo,” Wooyoung rolled his eyes as he responded sarcastically.

“I’m serious!”

The four of you packed up your things and left the coffee shop, Seonghwa still trying to convince you all that he did, in fact, break up with that last girl.

Since the four of you were free that evening, you all went to participate in Wooyoung’s favorite activity: drinking. And, of course, with drinking with Wooyoung game drinking games.

The local bar knew the four of you very well by that point in your lives. Sometimes, the bartenders would participate in the drinking games with you, but it was usually the four of you in a secluded booth with a whole bottle of house whiskey and beers aplenty. You sat across from Wooyoung and next to Seonghwa while San sat next to Wooyoung. You and Wooyoung had to take care of the other two boys since they were bad at holding their alcohol, so you each took turns babysitting the other boy.

“Alright, what game are we playing tonight?” Wooyoung clapped his hands together and rubbed them in anticipation.

“King’s Cup?” you suggested.

“Absolutely the fuck not. Not after what this asshole pulled last time,” San declined and pointed an accusatory finger at Wooyoung.

“What’d I do?!”

“You rigged the game! I kept pulling the last fucking king!”

“Oh, right. I did that,” Wooyoung accepted with a giggle.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Titanic?” Seonghwa offered.

“No way,” you refused.

“Why?”

“Last time we played that, Wooyoung threw up all over my favorite pair of shoes,” you grimaced.

“If I promise not to do that again, will you let us play?” Wooyoung asked.

“No, I don’t trust you.”

Pouting, Wooyoung turned away. The rest of you chose to ignore his antics.

“Truth or dare?” San asked.

“But instead of dare, we drink,” Wooyoung amended.

“Alright, I’m game,” you accepted.

“Same,” Seonghwa nodded.

The game started very tame— well, Wooyoung was asking the wildest questions, getting San and Seonghwa drunk in record time. At some point, you had enough of his dumb questions and told him to actually play the game properly because you wanted to actually hear some hot gossip.

“San, when was the last time you had sex?” Wooyoung asked San.

San took a drink.

“Come on, bro. There’s no shame in telling us when,” Wooyoung nudged San’s shoulder.

“It’s been so long that I don’t even remember when,” San admitted.

“You could’ve just said that and not have to drink,” you pointed out.

“…Fuck.”

“Alright, let’s not ask this kid anymore questions,” you told Wooyoung.

Seonghwa, meanwhile, was silent. He was pretty tipsy, but not drunk. He usually observed his friends whenever he got drunk, but if someone talked directly to him, then he would respond. You always got a kick out of watching drunk Seonghwa.

“Seonghwa,” San turned to the man in question.

“Yes?” Seonghwa responded while slightly swaying to and fro.

“Have you ever been attracted to Y/N?”

“Yes.”

You, San, and Wooyoung were all shocked. You stared Seonghwa down as he continued to sway, but he definitely was not looking at you. San, unable to ask another question because he was completely and utterly shocked, froze, leaving Wooyoung to ask the next one.

“When?”

Seonghwa decided to drink instead of answer that question.

You don’t remember what happened the rest of the game— you dissociated so hard that you wondered if you blacked out because of the alcohol. However, it was not the alcohol that fucked you up; it was Seonghwa who did.

You didn’t even realize that San and Wooyoung left for the night. You only snapped out of your trance when Seonghwa leaned his head on your shoulder. You looked to see that he had his eyes closed and he let out a heavy sigh. Your shock turned into annoyance— if Seonghwa actually fell asleep on shoulder, you were going to murder him. Luckily, Seonghwa was not asleep.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Seonghwa asked, his head still on your shoulder.

“Uh… Uh-huh,” you responded, unable to find words to properly convey exactly what was going through your mind.

“You don’t sound okay.”

“…I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Like what? You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Seonghwa lifted his head, giving you the chance to look at him with complete and utter disbelief. You wanted to tell him off for being a hypocrite, but he didn’t do anything wrong. He just played the game, and he played the game honestly. That wasn’t his fault, but you wanted to blame him for being a good sport.

But, Seonghwa could have also been lying for the sake of the game just to spice things up. He was a very giggly drunk, but he’s mentally aware of everything and has full control over his actions even when drunk out of his mind. He could have been messing with the group. You hoped he was messing with the group because there was no way in hell your best friend from back in middle school was attracted to you at any point in time.

“First, I need you tell me something,” you finally responded.

“Yeah?”

“Were you being serious earlier, or were you messing with us?”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you actually been attracted to me, or was that a lie?” you rephrased.

“I have been attracted to you.”

“When?”

Seonghwa took a sip of his beer— apparently the game was still going for him.

“Fine, then why?” you asked, exasperated.

“Go take a look in the mirror then get back to me.”

You felt your face get hot instantly. A drunk Seonghwa was shameless, but not once did you think his shamelessness was going to come your way. He took another nonchalant sip of his beer, and you decided to take another look at his face. His face was flushed, and his eyes were narrowed, but this wasn’t Seonghwa’s usual drunk self. Something was off, something that made butterflies storm through your body. You couldn’t tell if it was because of his confession, though.

“You’re seriously messing with me now, aren’t you?” you let out a weak laugh.

“Y/N, look at me,” Seonghwa said, his voice dropping down several decibels.

You did as he said, and a wave of heat rushed from your head to your toes. Seonghwa’s eyes were dark and filled with lust. He ran his tongue over his lower lip subtly, turning you on more than it should’ve. He leaned towards you ever so slightly, his hand holding onto the back of your chair. You nearly leaned back, but this was Seonghwa you’re talking about— he would never do anything to you, or anyone for that matter, without consent. You held your ground, Seonghwa’s face nearing yours.

“Do you think I’m joking now?” Seonghwa asked you softly.

“I believe you, but I also believe that you’re going insane.”

You pushed your chair away from the table and stood up, Seonghwa’s eyes following you as you did so. You grabbed your purse and stood there, Seonghwa still sitting.

“What’re you doing?” he asked.

“Waiting for you,” you responded. “You’re losing your goddamn mind, Seonghwa. We need to get you home.”

With a shrug, Seonghwa stood up. You genuinely thought he was going to stumble around based on how drunk you thought he was, but he carried himself well— so well, in fact, that he looked sober.

You left the bar first, and Seonghwa followed shortly thereafter. The two of you walked silently and side by side as you made your way back to your apartment complex.

“I think we should drop you off at home, first,” you told the man.

“No, I want to make sure you get home safe,” he denied.

“You drank a lot more than I did tonight.”

“Then, if you walk me home, will you stay the night?”

Another rush of heat. You looked away from him abruptly and at the dim sidewalk in front of you. You shook your head lightly; although it was Seonghwa who was saying those things to you, you didn’t feel like it was. Something was up with your friend, and it was making you nervous.

“That’s what I thought. Let me walk you home.”

The rest of the walk back was silent. You could barely think about anything without the sound of your heart beating loudly drowning out any thoughts you had left in your head.

“Y/N?” Seonghwa called your name, startling you.

“Yeah! Yeah?”

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for a while, now. What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” you said, which was the truth.

“Well, we’re here. Will you be okay getting up to your room?”

“Yes, but I seriously wonder if you’ll get home safe,” you said honestly.

“I’ll call a cab or something,” he assured you.

You nodded. You looked down at your feet, realizing that you were unable to leave. You usually just waved good-bye and fully left, or other times, Seonghwa would crash at your place. This time, however, was different. Your legs were frozen. You didn’t know why.

“Y/N? Are you going to go up?”

“Oh, yeah. Right. Good night, Hwa.”

Usually, after you guys hung out, he would hug you goodbye, and he did that this time, too. Before you could even take a step away, Seonghwa held your arm gently and turned you around, his arms outstretched and waiting expectantly for a hug. You hugged him. It wasn’t like he forced you to, but you felt so weird about just ignoring the fact that your friend of many, many years was asking for a hug as he usually did. This is silly, you thought to yourself. It was just a game, and Seonghwa’s just being a stupid flirt. He wasn’t being serious, so why were you taking him so seriously?

The hug lasted longer than you were expecting. You thought it was going to be a light hug and then bye. However, Seonghwa’s secure arms held you tightly and close. Even the way he was hugging you this time was different. It was a lot more sensual. He wrapped one arm around your waist and then the other over your shoulder, his face buried in the nook of your neck. You felt like your entire body was going to erupt into flames at that point.

When Seonghwa leaned away from you, he was still hugging you. Likewise, you were still hugging him. You gazed into his dark, lust filled eyes once again. You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Seonghwa, I’m going to ask you one more time,” you whispered. “Have you really been attracted to me?”

“Y/N, I don’t know how many times you want me to tell you, but yes. I have.”

“Are you attracted to me right now?”

“That’s not fair. You can’t ask that kind of question without letting me have the option of drinking,” Seonghwa frowned.

“But are you?” you pressed further.

Seonghwa pulled you closer into his embrace. He still wouldn’t say anything, which was ticking you off.

“Do you need me to spell it out for you?” Seonghwa asked with a deep sigh.

“I want you to state it explicitly before I say or do anything else.”

“Y/N…”

“Last chance, Seonghwa,” you warned him. “Are you attracted to me right now?”

“Yes.”

Your impulse took over. You wrapped your arms over his shoulders and held onto the back of his neck to pull him to you, your lips connecting. You felt his hold on you get tighter as he kissed you back again and again and again. He let out tiny, muffled grunts with every kiss.

You felt like he was eating you alive. His tongue immediately slipped into your mouth. His hands slipped down to your waist, his fingers pressing into you firmly. You yelped as you felt his teeth bite your lower lip lightly and tug upwards, making your libido scream for him to just ravage you.

Next thing you knew, Seonghwa was pulling you into your own apartment. He dragged you roughly to your bed and tossed you on there, the bed springs squeaking as you bounced on the mattress.

“Seong—”

He wouldn’t even allow you to say his name. His lips roughly met yours once more as he pinned you to the bed.

The way he was treating you in bed made you think of two things: one, he was so hot when he was unnecessarily aggressive; and two, why did he suddenly get to this point? You knew that the two of you were horny as fuck for each other in that moment, but the way he was acting was out of desperation, not lust.

You were only able to finally get words out when Seonghwa stopped kissing you to start stripping.

“Seonghwa, before you start again, I have more questions,” you sat up and held your hand out to stop him from pinning you to the bed again.

A look of frustration crossed Seonghwa’s face as he pulled off his shirt. But, nonetheless, he waited for you to ask your questions.

“Why are you acting like this?”

Seonghwa let out a heavy sigh and ran his fingers through his hair (which turned you even more since he looked so hot when he was annoyed or frustrated). He stood in front of you with his hands on his hips and asked mockingly, “What do you want me to say? That I’m hot for you? That I’m horny? That I really need my dick inside you?”

“Seonghwa, please be serious…”

Silently, Seonghwa got on the bed and pinned you down once again. His lips neared your ear, his soft breath sending shivers down your neck. His hands held your wrists down, and his knees trapped your waist.

“Y/N, I don’t know how else to show you I’m serious. I wouldn’t be in bed with you like this right now if I wasn’t interested in you.”

“But,” you breathed out. “You’re… Attracted to me? Of all people, me?”

“Y/N,” Seonghwa said softly as he pressed his lips against your ear gently. “You’re sexy and gorgeous and captivating.”

He trailed his lips down the side of your neck, his fingers pulling your shirt off your shoulder. You suppressed a moan when his other hand held both your wrists above your head, his tongue returning to your neck and trailing upwards.

“You like me?”

“Of course I like you,” Seonghwa replied softly into your neck.

“Romantically?”

Seonghwa stopped. He moved away from you enough where he could make eye contact with you, but his chest was still pressed against yours. He opened his mouth and said something, but you couldn’t hear him at all despite the fact that he was mere centimeters away from you.

“What— Oh my God!”

It was physically impossible for you to ask him questions after that. He quickly pulled down the waistband of your pants and panties and shoved his middle two fingers into you with so much force that your entire body jerked. He let go of your wrists to caress your face, his warm fingertips practically burning a hole into the skin on your cheek while his lips made yours feel raw with his intense kisses. His fingers kept thrusting into you roughly with no remorse, tears slipping out of your eyes as his forcefulness drove you to euphoria. You cried out when he added a third finger, instantly making you cum.

No matter how much you whimpered and tried to grab his wrists in a feeble attempt to get him to let up, Seonghwa continued to finger you over and over again, another orgasm overcoming you mere seconds after the first one. Tears slipped out of your eyes one after the other, your body trembling as he finally removed his fingers from you fully, only for him to move down on you. He held onto the bottoms of your thighs and pushed them upwards, giving him more access to your completely sopping wet pussy. You thought he was going to go right for the jackpot, but instead he left painful hickeys along the insides of your thighs, his tongue trailing along to each new spot on your thighs until he finally arrived at your pussy.

Seonghwa’s tongue violating your pussy was a completely different kind of pleasure than when his tongue was violating your mouth. Seonghwa was truly a master of utilizing his tongue for pleasure. When his tongue licked upwards and pressed through your pussy’s lips so that he was in the most literal sense tongue-fucking you, a surge of pleasure swept through your body. You raked your fingers through his hair and held onto the roots of his hair for dear life as you felt yet another orgasm come your way.

Proper words evaded you as you came right in Seonghwa’s mouth, and hearing him slurp your pussy up right after made all sorts of thoughts fly through your pleasure-ridden brain swimming in pheromones. You moaned loudly and flung your head back into your pillow as his tongue flicked your clit wildly before toying with it and drawing circles around it. Even more tears slipped out of your eyes the longer it took for this— what was it, fourth?— orgasm to hit you. You let out the most erotic cry when Seonghwa sucked hard on your clit and inserted two fingers into your cunt, and when Seonghwa curled his fingers inside you, that was when you came once more.

As you laid in what you could only describe as a puddle of yourself, Seonghwa moved away from you to take off his pants and grab a condom from your nightstand.

“Seonghwa,” you said his name quietly, your voice wavering as you were afraid that he would overtake you if you tried to speak again.

“Y/N?” Seonghwa responded after he rolled the condom on.

You didn’t even know what you wanted to say to him. Your brain was still swimming, and the only word you could think to say was his name. “Seonghwa,” you repeated.

Seonghwa understood at that point. He moved towards you so that he was kneeling right in between your legs, his penis resting on the bottom of your stomach. Maybe it was because you had tears in your eyes, but it looked like Seonghwa had a weapon of mass destruction.

At first, Seonghwa reached out to your face to wipe your tears, but he stopped— why bother wiping the tears from your eyes if you were just going to have them water up again? So, eyes bleary, you watched as he positioned himself at your entrance. He leaned forward and pressed his lips into the nook of your neck, the tip of his dick barely inside you.

He didn’t really warn you after that. He fully thrusted into your extremely wet pussy, his cock moving in with ease and filling you up entirely— but, because you were incredibly wet, his waist slammed into yours. You choked out a cry. Your hands immediately went to his shoulders and clutched so hard that your nails left tiny crescents in his skin. You didn’t even have the chance to relax your hold on him. He was coming at you with full force, his tempo not changing in the slightest.

“Hnn— Hwa!” you moaned as he continued to slam his dick inside you without letting up. “S-slower! Please!”

“Sorry, Y/N, I seriously can’t stop,” Seonghwa grunted.

He held your waist and pulled you up slightly, making it easier for him to thrust even harder into you. Your hands slipped from his shoulders, causing you to reach for his arms for support instead. You got a good look at his face and saw his eyes darken as the blush on his face reddened. His breathing got rougher, and right before he came, he bit his lower lip and slammed into you one last time. The look on his face was enough to make you cum as well. Seonghwa groaned in pleasure while you cried his name out again. His hold on you relaxed as he pulled out of you. The two of you were panting hard as Seonghwa moved away from you and got off the bed to remove his filled condom.

You thought he would be done. He released a huge load into that condom, so you genuinely thought that he was done for the night. He was far from done, apparently. The second you heard him rip open another condom pack, you froze and looked at him nervously.

“Seonghwa…?” you asked with a shaky voice as you felt the bed dip when he got back on it.

“Y/N, turn around,” Seonghwa said in response.

With his assistance, you turned so that you were on your knees, your hands propping you up. You knew exactly what was coming your way, and although you knew and tried to prepare, you still were completely shocked when Seonghwa thrusted his penis into you with the same immense force as before. You cried out as you felt his hands hold onto your ass cheeks tightly, his fingernails lightly digging into your skin. Despite the fact that you were on your knees, your arms felt like they were ready to give. You went down to your elbows, raising your ass slightly, earning you a pleasant groan from the man pleasuring you.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Seonghwa bit out before letting out a louder groan, his dick trembling inside of you.

You were weak. You were only able to sit up and kneel on the bed when Seonghwa helped you sit up, his hand on your breast. From behind, he massaged your breast and nibbled on the skin on your neck lightly, your entire body immediately reacting by purring in delight. He let out a deep exhale right next to your ear, making your body tremble even more.

“You’re driving me crazy… How are you so sexy?” Seonghwa asked quietly, unaware that you heard him.

Still not allowing you more than a minute to recover, Seonghwa turned your face and kissed you passionately. His thumb caressed your cheek and went past your ear, heat immediately rushing to your ear. You were so drawn into his sweet kiss and your tongue dancing with his that you didn’t even realize that he had moved you so that he was laying on the bed with your knees trapping his waist. It was only when he broke off the kiss and pushed your shoulders away from him that you realized what he wanted from you.

“Wait,” Seonghwa whispered, his fingers fumbling behind you as he replaced his condom. Once he was ready, he then said, “Okay. Get on.”

You sat up slightly, allowing Seonghwa to position himself before sitting down slowly. You muffled a moan, your eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head as you leaned your head back. You felt like his dick shot all the way through you despite the fact that you took your time sitting down. His dick throbbed painfully inside you as you timidly began to move. You gripped his shoulders tightly as you bounced up and down, the sound of your waist hitting his along with your erratic moans and gasps echoing in the room.

“Seonghwa, I can’t,” you whimpered as you felt your hands begin to slip. “My thighs are trembling…”

Without a word, Seonghwa held your hands and pulled you towards him, guiding you so that your chest was pressed against his. He then moved his hands to your ass and assisted you while simultaneously forcing his hips upwards, making your whole body lurch. His lips then connected with yours, overwhelming your brain to the point where your body lost self control. You couldn’t even make the effort to cum properly by moving away from his dick, so the pleasure and satisfaction of your orgasm just got greater from there.

He then flipped you so that you were laying down on the bed once more. He got off the bed and held your legs tightly, guiding them upwards as he pulled you to the edge of the bed. You clutched the bedsheets below you tightly when he rested your legs against his shoulders. Without a second to waste, he slid his dick inside you once again.

Seonghwa held your waist tightly while he continued to thrust at a steady rate, but once he moved his hands down to your ass, he got much faster within seconds. You crossed your legs behind his head as you tried to suppress another significant wave of pleasure, which ended up really turning Seonghwa on.

“You got so tight… Shit, Y/N,” Seonghwa cursed.

You unconsciously bucked your hips upwards when his hands spread your ass cheeks wide. With a sharp inhale, Seonghwa slammed his waist into you, and you felt his cum fill up the condom and warm you up even more.

Seonghwa had cum three times at that point. You thought for sure that he would be done by now, that his balls would be completely drained, but you were wrong and more wrong. Seonghwa could still go.

You laid there on your bed, your mind completely numb. You didn’t know how much time had passed for you dissociate this bad, but all you knew was that it was dark outside when you started, and now the sunrise was painting the apartment in shades of red and orange. You could hear him breathing hard, and you looked to see that he was still not satisfied. His eyebrows were furrowed and his lips were pressed together, but his hold on you was weak. That being said, he still had the energy and desperation to keep going.

You looked to the side to see filled condoms piled to the top of the trashcan in your room. You didn’t even realize you had so many condoms in your home in the first place, making you wonder if Seonghwa would stop if you ran out of condoms— but Seonghwa was insatiable, apparently, because he just kept going and going, profanities leaving his lips exponentially.

With a grunt of frustration, Seonghwa pulled out and moved your waist, both of your feet resting on the bed as he propped your knees up. He completely took you by surprise when he lifted your waist up, allowing him to fuck you from a different angle. You felt the tip of his dick glide past your g-spot, your eyes flying open as he repeated the action over and over and over again. You ran your fingers through your hair and cried loudly as your fluid shot out of your body when Seonghwa pulled out suddenly.

Seonghwa’s thighs and torso were covered with your slick. Through bleary eyes, you saw the ghost of a smirk appear on his face, making your brain melt all over again. You closed your eyes and pushed your head back into the bed as you regained your breath and calmed your racing heart. Seonghwa pinned his arms on either side of you as he bent down to leave you with another one of his mind-numbingly amazing kisses. The sounds of your wet kisses reverberated through the room. Seonghwa caressed your face gently as he kissed you over and over again as if he just couldn’t get enough of you.

That was when you were finally able to form a singular thought and vocalize it to him.

“Seonghwa,” you whispered as he released you from his kissing bind, your eyes barely maintaining contact with his.

Seonghwa hummed.

“I like you.”

You watched Seonghwa freeze. He looked right into your eyes and stared at you, his face completely red. He wrapped his arms around your body and hugged you, his lips brushing past your collarbone and neck.

“Say that again,” he whispered in your ear.

“I like you.”

Seonghwa sat up. His hands guided your waist so that you, too, were sitting up. He sat you right in between his legs and hugged your waist, his intense gaze making it near impossible to maintain eye contact with him. A small smile threatened to appear on his face as he leaned closer to you. His soft breaths tickled your chest, making you want to squirm in his embrace.

“How? In what way?”

“In a way that I want to see what a relationship with you would look like.”

“So, romantically?”

At first, you wanted to say no, because that definitely wasn’t the feeling you had; but, when he held you even closer and nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck, you felt butterflies swarm through you and couldn’t help but cling to him, your hands holding his shoulders tightly.

“I think it could get there,” you murmured.

You felt Seonghwa’s lips against your skin, his mouth pulling into a smile. He left small smooches all over your shoulder, neck, and face, making your body flush to a slightly darker red. His hands went from your waist to your ass, lifting you up a tiny bit off the bed— he wanted to be inside you again. Again. You adjusted yourself and went from holding his shoulders to pressing the palms of your hands on the bed and behind you. He moved forward, his cock sliding right into you. You both rocked your hips in and out of each other, his dick hitting deep inside you.

The feeling of his cock reaching so far inside you was enough to make you cum. Seonghwa, too, apparently; he slammed his hips into you with one final, powerful stroke before the two of you came at the same time, the two of you calling the other’s name in the same moment.

The sun was fully up in the sky by the time Seonghwa’s dick finally calmed down. You were using his arm as a pillow as the two of you laid in your bed. You wrapped your arm around his torso and gave him a light hug, prompting him to rest his head on top of yours.

“You’re insatiable, Seonghwa,” you broke the silence between you two. “Are you always like this?”

“No.”

“So what changed for you to be like this?”

“I’ve been holding back for a long time Y/N.”

“How long?”

“Eighth grade.” You gasped and looked up at him in shock as he continued, “To be honest, I thought it was just some sort of small school crush and that it would disappear over time, but the crush kind of stayed buried until last night.”

“So, if you’ve liked me since then, why did you beat around the bush so hard last night?”

“I wasn’t sure if you felt or would ever feel the same way about me,” Seonghwa admitted honestly. “It’s always nice to hear that someone’s attracted to you, so I wanted to leave it at that in case you definitely didn’t feel anything for me.”

You nodded in understanding and cuddled closer to him, your eyes briefly closing before a sudden thought came into your head.

“Can I tell you something?” you asked him quietly.

Seonghwa merely nodded.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t say anything through middle and high school.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you pre-puberty was just not it,” you couldn’t help but giggle. “I would’ve rejected you in the eighth grade so fast.”

“How dare you!” Seonghwa feigned injury.

His arms instantly hugged you tightly, and he lowered himself so that he could sink his teeth lightly into the skin on your neck. You let out a little yelp as he pushed his body towards yours and slightly weighing you down as his lips neared your ear.

“I’m going to make you regret telling me that,” he whispered ominously.

You were about to retort when you felt his erect dick press against your stomach. You wondered if Seonghwa was even going to let you sleep at all that day— but you already knew the answer: no.

#park seonghwa #seonghwa smut #ateez #seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa ateez #seonghwa ateez #ateez seonghwa #broatz

[sluttywonwoo]

instead of you [part twenty-six] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either. 

warnings: swearing, angst, smut (mdni)

word count: 5.1k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

additional smut warnings: oral (f receiving), protected sex, multiple orgasms

The silence that followed your admission was excruciating. You wished you knew what Minho was thinking. He was impossible to read, aside from the evident anger written all over his face. His body language didn’t give much away either. He was closed off, arms folded across his chest, chin raised just slightly. 

“So who are you then?” he demanded, tone even despite being the exact opposite mere moments ago. 

“What?”

“Who are you? Are you just some girl that Jisung is using?”

“What the fuck, no!”

“Why are you acting like that’s some outrageous possibility? I just found out you’ve been lying to everyone all summer!”

“I’ve been Jisung’s best friend for like four years now, I’m all over his Instagram! Felix came to visit us and we all hung out, there are pictures of that too. I can’t believe you’d think I’m some random person!”

“You’ll have to forgive me for not thinking completely rationally right now!” he spat. “Why the hell would Jisung lie about- why would he say he had a girlfriend if he didn’t?”

“It’s a long story,” you mumbled with a sigh. “But we really don’t have time to get into that right now. I came up here because I was supposed to bring you back to the room.”

Minho made a face. “What, why?”

“Your cousins called.”

The shift in his demeanor was immediate. He visibly perked up, but only briefly, before seeming to remember the conversation he was having. “Jeongin and Yoon?”

“Yeah. Everyone else is on FaceTime with them right now. I told everyone I’d come to get you so that none of them would have to miss out on talking to him,” you explained. “So we should probably get going because I don’t know how long he has to chat.”

“Fine,” Minho surrendered easily, “but we’re not done talking about this.”

“Yeah, yeah I know,” you sighed again, still feeling nauseous. With everything that had already happened, you knew there was no way that this could end well. But now, now that one person knew it was all a lie, you were fucked. “Just… don’t tell anyone, please?”

He pursed his lips but nodded. “You sure have a lot of secrets to keep track of, don’t you?”

It was meant to sting, and it did, but you didn’t let him see the crack in the glass. 

“I could say the same for you.”

-

You slipped into your room as soon as you got back to the penthouse, not wanting to face any of the other Hans, especially not your best friend. You collapsed onto the bed with a muffled scream into your pillow. 

You expected yourself to start crying, but the tears didn’t come. They wouldn’t come. The initial panic had been replaced with numbness. Apathy personified, you could feel it spreading from your heart out through your veins, creating a tingling sensation that reached the very tips of your fingers. 

You had to tell Jisung, right? He’d understand… probably. You hadn’t told Minho. He figured it out on his own. Yeah, you should tell Jisung and then you could also come clean about… everything else. Maybe. But maybe you could also take it to your grave since it seemed like any possibility of you and Minho becoming an item, whatever that implied, was out of the question now. You knew he didn’t want anything to do with you anymore. Not after tonight. You couldn’t erase his look of betrayal from your mind no matter how hard you tried. 

Just how many people were you hurting by merely being on this trip? There was no way to know for sure, not that knowing would make you feel any less guilty. 

Maybe it was better not to tell Jisung. Maybe you could pretend like everything was fine, and then it would be. But that was what had gotten you in trouble in the first place. 

You hadn’t realized you had fallen asleep until you woke up with a jolt some hours later. The room was dark. The lamp had been switched off and the blinds were shut. Jisung was snoring softly beside you. He was tucked under the covers while you were still laying on top of them. 

You rolled over and felt for your phone, finding it underneath your pillow. You were surprised to see that you had missed a text from Minho. It was from an hour and a half ago and just said can you meet me in room 422? 

You weren’t sure if he would still be waiting there since it had been so long since he sent the message, but you responded with a tentative sure and quietly snuck out of your bedroom. You hoped Jisung wouldn’t wake up before you returned. Having to explain where you were or why you were there would only complicate things. You still hadn’t decided whether or not to tell him… anything. You needed more time to think things through. At least, that’s the excuse you told yourself. 

The fourth floor was eerily quiet, reminding you of how late it was. Stepping off the elevator into the hallway felt like a mistake, like you were trespassing on private property. Minho hadn’t replied to your text so you didn’t know if he was still awake, but you knocked at the door anyway. He answered after the second knock. 

“There you are,” he said and stepped aside to let you in. He seemed to have cooled down, which was a good sign, but there was still tension lingering between you. 

You slid by him, stopping in the entryway just past the door. The room he had summoned you to was just a plain hotel room. There was a queen-size bed in the middle of the room and a desk in the corner, but not much else. 

“You can sit wherever.”

You nodded in acknowledgment and perched yourself on the edge of the bed. Minho followed you but refrained from sitting, choosing to lean back against the dresser so that he could face you. 

“Why’d you want to meet me here?” you asked.

“I, uh, thought that talking in my room back at the apartment would look kind of weird if anyone saw us,” he explained awkwardly, “and the walls are thin too.”

“Alright, you have a point,” you admitted with a shaky exhale. “Whose room is this?”

“It’s mine. I went down to the lobby and booked it for the night.”

Oh to have a K-pop-sized disposable income.

“Oh, right. Should have thought of that.” You swallowed thickly, trying still to appear calm, cool, and collected. “Well, what did you want to talk about?”

You realized that Minho hadn’t mentioned wanting to talk in his text. You were just assuming. But given the events of the night, you felt that it was a pretty safe assumption to make. 

“I wanted to know why you and Jisung lied to everyone,” he took a brief pause before continuing, “and why I now have to lie to everyone too.”

You bit your tongue, stopping yourself before you could point out that he was already lying to everyone, and just nodded. 

“So the thing is, when he told your parents he had a girlfriend, he did have a girlfriend. They broke up, like, less than a week after he told them that and I guess he was too embarrassed to break the news because they were so excited for him and had already invited her on the trip. Jisung figured that maybe he’d have another girlfriend by the time he actually had to go on the trip, but when the end of the semester rolled around and he didn’t, I kind of filled the vacancy because he asked me to.”

“But why?” Minho pressed. “Why was it so important for him to be dating someone?”

“I don’t know, actually. He told me that it was to make your parents happy because they were always bugging him about his dating life, but I thought there might have been another reason that he just wasn’t telling me.”

Minho hummed thoughtfully. “Mom and dad are pretty nosy about our lives, but I don’t know why he would feel pressured to be in a relationship.”

“I think he felt like he had something to prove,” you said, choosing your words carefully. You knew how rocky Jisung’s relationship with his older brother was, at least from what he told you. You didn’t want to give Minho anything he could hold against him. “You’re not going to say anything to your parents or Felix, are you?”

“No,” he answered immediately and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “That’s his prerogative, I suppose. I don’t want to start anything between us- it’s not my place to say anything, really.”

“Thank you.”

He let his arms drop to his sides but didn’t move from where he was standing. “So, there’s really nothing going on between you and Jisung?”

“No, I swear.”

“Even after spending all this time together on the trip?”

“Nope, we spend all of our time together anyway.”

“So are you… friends with benefits?” he asked. 

“No. We’ve made out a few times, but it really just happens when we’re drunk. We never slept together.”

“But what about…” he trailed off, but you understood what he was talking about instantly.

“Oh, no! That was all fake. We just did that to sell it more, and sometimes to mess with you guys.”

“I knew there was no way he could be that good,” Minho whispered.  

You chuckled but came to your friend’s defense. “He seems to do pretty well for himself. Girls usually call him back after staying over so he must be doing something right.”

“I can’t believe it was fake,” Minho mumbled, mostly to himself. “Sorry, I’m still processing this.”

“Take your time.”

You leaned back on the palms of your hands, feeling a little more relaxed now that you knew he didn’t hate you. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asked finally, letting the mask fall the tiniest bit. “After I kissed you the first time? Or when you kissed me back? This whole time I’ve felt like such an asshole for- for everything that happened.”

“I thought about it,” you admitted, “but Jisung and I agreed that it would stay between us. I’m sorry.”

“I get why you didn’t. I just wish it could have been different.” 

“Me too,” you agreed.

Minho crossed over to the bed and sat down next to you. 

“I’m sorry I went through your stuff.”

You threw your head back laughing. You hadn’t expected him to say that. “It’s fine. Honestly, it’s a relief not to have to keep up the act around you anymore.”

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?” Minho raised an eyebrow and grinned, making you shy away from his gaze. 

You looked down at your lap. 

“Because it was exhausting! I don’t know how to act.” It was a half-truth, and you suspected that he knew it. 

“You had me fooled.”

You managed to look back up at him only to find him staring at your lips. This was not how you imagined this conversation going at all. 

“Maybe I should change career paths then,” you choked out. 

“Yeah, maybe.”

A few more beats of silence lapsed between you before Minho spoke again. 

“All of this time we could have been doing this,” he murmured gently. 

You scrunched your face up in confusion. “What’s ‘doing this’?”

 He leaned forward and bridged the gap between you by pressing his lips to yours to answer your question. His hand came up to your hair instinctively, muscle memory, and brushed it out of your face before cupping your jaw. You melted into him like you had done too many times before, letting him trace the curves of your face with his thumb like he was trying to memorize it. 

His palm was warm and you could feel the calluses on his hand against your cheek. You were the first to moan, any embarrassment long forgotten as you climbed onto his lap. 

Minho accommodated your weight easily, hands immediately coming down to grab your ass. He allowed you to push him down so that he was lying flat on the bed with you straddling his waist. 

Minho slipped his tongue into your mouth as the kiss intensified, teasing you with it. You whimpered when he pulled away, bottom lip jutting out into a pout. Minho just smirked and used the opportunity to flip you over so that he was on top. 

Then his lips were back on you, brushing against your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. As soon as you felt his teeth graze your skin you pushed his head back and gave him a look. It was his turn to pout. 

“You can’t leave marks, idiot.”

“Oh yeah, sorry,” he said apologetically, though the shit-eating grin on his face let you know that he didn’t mean it whatsoever. “Well, you can mark me up as much as you want.”

You rolled your eyes. “Lucky me.”

Minho ignored your comment and raised himself onto his hands, still hovering over you. He looked pretty, even in the dim, yellowy hotel room light. His lips were already a bit puffy, but he hadn’t even been kissing you for that long. You briefly wondered how they’d look after making out with your cunt, all swollen and glossy. You tried to squeeze your thighs together at the thought, legs closing around Minho’s hips instead. He seemed pleased at your eagerness and rewarded you with another kiss. 

“Can I take your shirt off?” he asked when he came up for air. You nodded. “Here, lift up a little.”

You did as he asked so that he could work the t-shirt over your head, laughing when he tossed it on the floor. 

“You weren’t wearing a bra?”

“I was about to go to sleep!”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Likely story.”

“No, you’re right. I came here in my pajamas fully intending to seduce you.”

“Well, it worked.”

“Of course it did. Men are so easy.”

He shook his head, tongue poking his cheek. “You’re going to regret saying that.”

You cocked your head to the side, fully aware that Minho had the physical upper hand. “We’ll see.”

As soon as the words left your mouth Minho’s hands were on your boobs, effectively shutting you up. He circled a thumb around each of your nipples, smirking when you gasped and arched your back. 

“Barely even touching you and look how eager you are for me,” he mused. 

“T-take your shirt off too.” It was meant to be a command, but it sounded more like a plea. 

“What’s the magic word?”

“Fuck you.”

“Fine, since you asked so nicely.”

Minho reached behind his neck and yanked his t-shirt off, throwing it in the same general direction as he had thrown yours. You had seen Minho shirtless plenty of times before and you still couldn’t help but stare. His body looked like one of those statues you had seen in the Louvre, carved out of marble by one of the artists they named the Ninja Turtles after. 

You reached out to touch his chest, running your fingertips along his pale skin. 

“Can I take these off too?” Minho asked, playing with the hem of your sweats. He snapped the elastic band against your hip, making you flinch. 

“Yes, please get them off of me, it’s hot,” you whined.

You were left in just your underwear beneath him. You were usually pretty confident with sexual partners, but with Minho you felt exposed, vulnerable. You felt the urge to cover yourself, even though he was looking at you like you were a star amongst the cosmos. 

He repositioned himself lower in between your legs and before you could ask what he was doing, he pressed his tongue against your clothed cunt, licking a fat stripe between your folds.

You cried out in surprise, hips bucking into his face as a string of curses left your mouth. 

Minho raised his head, smiling sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I’ve been imagining what you taste like for weeks. I just had to know.”

“It felt good,” you assured him, silently begging him to continue. “Was it what you hoped it would be?”

“Better. Can I please keep going?”

“God, yes.”

He placed a hand on either one of your thighs to hold you down as he buried his head in between your legs again. He teased you with his tongue over your panties, finding your clit in an impressively short amount of time. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pushing his head against you. He groaned, his grip on your thighs tightening as you pulled his hair.

“Please, need more,” you whined. 

And Minho was all too willing to give you exactly that. Instead of taking the time to take your panties off, he just pulled them to the side so that he could have complete access to your pussy. He went back to work and you both moaned. His tongue was wet and warm and felt perfect on your clit. You frowned when he started moving lower, confused as to what he was doing until you felt his tongue working you open. No one had ever tongue-fucked you before and you thought you might cum from that alone. 

Minho paused again to catch his breath. “Fuck, I knew you were wet, but I didn’t expect you to be this wet,” he rasped out. 

“Sorry,” you hissed, cheeks warm with embarrassment.

“Who the fuck ever told you to apologize for being turned on?”

“N-no one.”

“Good, because it’s hot.”

You scoffed. 

“Lay back down,” Minho said, nodding at you to punctuate his point. 

You rolled your eyes at him but did as he said anyway. “You’re so bossy.”

“Do you want me to keep going or not?”

“Fine, fine. Sorry.”

“I fucking knew you were a brat,” he sneered. 

“What gave it away?” you asked sweetly. 

“Take a wild guess.”

You propped yourself up on your elbows again despite just being told to lie down. “And what are you going to do about it?”

Instead of answering, Minho hooked his arms under your thighs and pulled you to the edge of the bed, making you lose your balance and yelp in surprise. You watched his shoulder muscles flex as he used his strength to push your hips down, preventing you from squirming. The sight was enough to make you want to squeeze your thighs together, but of course, Minho was stopping you from doing just that. 

He pulled your panties off completely this time, apparently frustrated with the obstacle in his way. They joined the heap of clothes on the ground. You didn’t even need to look at them to know that they were ruined. 

His mouth was back on you before you could get another word in, causing any snarky remark you’d been about to make dissolve into a moan. It was a little sloppy at first. He had yet to fully regain his bearings, but dove in headfirst anyway. Kisses against the crux of your thigh, nips at your hip bones. Teasing and experimental. 

His touch didn’t have the practiced familiarity of a lover. Each movement was eager, exploratory. He was learning your body like he had all the time in the world, but you were growing impatient. 

Your hands flew to his hair again as he finally laved his tongue over your clit. You suppressed your moans this time, remembering what he had said about the neighbors. 

“Fuck, keep going,” you hissed, encouraging him to continue. “Please keep going.”

You could feel Minho smirking against your pussy, but you didn’t care. He could be as cocky as he wanted if he was going to make you feel this good. 

It didn’t take much to get you to the edge. It had been a while since you’d gotten laid, and you had been wanting Minho for God knows how long… you would usually be embarrassed, not want to give a man a bigger ego than he already had, but you had a feeling Minho was trying to get you to cum before fucking you and you wanted him inside of you as quickly as possible. If anything, you were doing him a favor. 

“C-close, Min. ‘M really close!”

You could barely make out the muffled “already?” that came from him between your legs, but you still rolled your eyes anyway, half-tempted to push his head away. 

He guided two of his fingers inside of you, giving you something to clench around as you came. The intention behind the action is what did it. He clearly cared about your pleasure which was rare to find in a partner, especially when said partner was a man. 

You came almost instantly, catching Minho off-guard as if “I’m close” hadn’t been warning enough. He must have taken it as an advanced notice rather than an immediate head’s up. He grunted in surprise as you bucked your hips up into his face, but recovered quickly, helping you ride out the orgasm until you relaxed back on the bed. 

He lifted his head finally, grinning like he’d just won the lottery, and sucked your arousal off of his fingers, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand shortly afterward.

“Good?” he asked. 

“Really good,” you managed to choke out. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah, take your pants off.”

Minho chuckled. “Should’ve known you’d only want me for my body.”

You pursed your lips but didn’t bother responding. You both knew that wasn’t true. Otherwise, why would you be risking everything just to fuck him? 

Minho pushed himself off of the bed and shimmied out of his pants. As good as he looked in the gray sweats, you knew he would look even better with them off. And you were right. Even though he was still wearing his briefs, you could see the outline of his dick much more prominently. It made your mouth water and you sat up and shifted onto your knees to return the favor he had just given you. 

Minho saw you reaching out for him but shook his head. 

“I need to feel you,” he said, voice strained. “If that’s okay. I already almost came in my pants just from eating you out, I won’t last.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Not many men would admit to that.”

“Not many men would admit to getting off on making their partner feel good? You’re right.” 

You watched as he picked his pants up off the floor and pulled a condom out of one of the pockets. 

“Oh now you have a condom?” you teased.

“Look, I usually have them on me, I just didn’t that night,” he exclaimed in defense, the thin foil packet between his teeth. He ripped it open and pulled the rubber out, only pausing when you spoke again. 

“You don’t keep them in your wallet, do you?”

“I do, but I change them out pretty often. Is that okay?” 

“That’s fine.”

With that settled, he slipped out of his underwear and rolled the condom on with ease. He joined you on the bed a moment later. You laid back and waited for Minho to position himself. 

“Wait-” you whispered suddenly, having been so in the moment that you had almost forgotten. “Are you clean?”

Minho let out a sigh of relief, probably having thought something was wrong. “Yeah, I got tested like two months ago.” 

“But the other night with that girl-”

“I didn’t sleep with her.”

“Oh. Why?”

“I mean, I fully intended to, if I’m being honest. But I just… couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t get it up?” 

“Something like that,” he sighed. “I probably should’ve asked this before going down on you, but you’re clean too, right?”

You nodded. “I get tested all the time and I haven’t had sex in a while.”

“That makes two of us.” 

You looked at him expectantly. “You may… continue.”

“I’m surprised that didn’t immediately make my dick soft.”

“Oh, give me a break. My brain is still fuzzy from cumming.”

He snorted. “You’re welcome.”

“I can’t believe that didn’t immediately make me dry up.”

“I’m allowed to be cocky!” he protested. “I made you cum in, what, a minute flat?”

“It took longer than a minute!”

“I don’t know about that. I think we should check the replay.”

“You’re such a dork.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “And that must really turn you on. ‘Cause last time I checked you were dripping onto the sheets.”

“I-” you had nothing. You squeezed your thighs around Minho’s waist, trying to coax him inside of you. “Just stick it in already!”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he repeated.

You held onto his arms as he pushed himself in, sighing in relief at the fullness. He wasn’t the biggest you’d ever had, but he was still sizable. You had to take a second to adjust to the stretch before he could start to move. He fit perfectly, at least that’s what it felt like. You were positive he could tell how much you liked his cock from the way you unconsciously clenched around him, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to care. If his ego inflated to the size of the moon after this, fuck it.

“Fuck, st-stop doing that,” Minho stuttered, pressing one of his hands against your hip to try and keep you still. 

“I’m not doing anything!”

“You’re, God, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he hissed. “If you keep clenching like that I’m gonna cum.”

“Oh sorry, I didn’t even realize.”

You took a deep breath and willed your body to relax. It had been so long since you’d been properly fucked and you didn’t want it to be over before it even started. 

“Are you good to keep going?” Minho asked once he’d regained some semblance of composure. 

“Yeah,” you breathed out. “Yeah, fuck please move.”

He leaned down to kiss you as he began to rock his hips into yours and you met him halfway. You could still taste yourself on his tongue, on his lips. He groaned into your mouth and nipped at your bottom lip when you pulled away. 

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” he confessed, voice raspy. 

Baby was new. And it made you whimper in response. 

“So goddamn tight. It’s like your pussy was made for me.”

Did he say this to every girl he fucked? Because it sounded like a line, but it was working like a charm on you. 

As if he realized he was rambling, he busied his mouth in other ways. He kissed your neck, careful not to leave marks, before moving down to the valley of your breasts where he continued his work. The way he lowered himself onto you pushed his cock in even deeper, something you didn’t think was possible. 

His lips were warm. They were so warm. Each kiss felt like you were touching the sun. You could feel the heat against your skin even as he moved away, pressing kisses elsewhere. 

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Minho asked. 

You hadn’t even realized that you had been smiling, or that he had stopped kissing you. He was going faster now too. You hadn’t noticed that either. You were far too gone, clearly.

“Feels good,” was as much as you could manage, but that seemed to satisfy Minho. 

“Yeah? Have I fucked you dumb already?” he cooed condescendingly. 

You nodded. “Feels sooo good. Feel so full.”

You’d be embarrassed by your barely-comprehensible sentences, but you didn’t have the capacity to feel anything other than pleasure in that moment. You doubted you’d even remember what you said in the morning. 

“You close again, baby?”

“Uh huh.”

“Fuck, me too. I’ll get you there, though. I’ll make you feel even better.”

He brought one of his hands down to your clit and used his thumb to rub somewhat uncoordinated circles on it. He was gentler than he had been before, like he knew you were still sensitive from cumming the first time. The added stimulation brought you back to the edge in record time and all you could do to alert Minho of what was happening was frantically grab his bicep and squeeze it repeatedly.

“Gonna cum? Go ahead, baby.”

Your entire body tensed as your second orgasm of the night washed over you. Minho fucked you through it again, announcing that he was cumming right as you started to come down. Watching his face scrunch up in pleasure as he came was almost enough to send you into a third orgasm. His eyes shut and his mouth fell open into an O shape as his hips faltered. He didn’t stop thrusting until he was certain he’d given you every last drop of his cum, choking out a string of curses followed by your name through gritted teeth. 

He collapsed on top of you seconds later, completely spent and still inside of you. 

“Fuck, that was good,” he panted. You nodded in agreement, wincing when you felt him pull out. “You okay?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think I can walk. My legs feel like jelly.”

“Would another orgasm help?”

“No,” you groaned. “I can’t take another one.”

“I was kidding. C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up and back to your room.”

“Nooo, I’m tired,” you whined. 

“I know, I know,” he said softly, “but you can’t sleep here. Unless you want Jisung to find out?”

“Fine,” you mumbled. Your eyes were closed, but you could hear him moving around the hotel room. “Just give me like five minutes to nap.”

“You know I can’t do that.” When you opened your eyes he was wearing pants again and standing beside the bed waiting for you. “You need to shower. And pee. A UTI in the middle of vacation would really suck.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You knew that before sleeping with me.”

“Yeah, and I still did it anyway. Now, get up.”

“You’re so bossy,” you muttered under your breath, repeating the sentiment you had already voiced. Minho just chuckled and helped you to your feet.

“You seemed to like that earlier.”

“Yeah, when you were making me cum.”

“Well, I won’t be able to make you cum anymore if you contract an infection. So I have to be bossy or else you won’t listen.” 

“Or else you won’t listen,” you mocked. 

Minho grinned despite himself and shook his head at you. “We should’ve started doing this way sooner.”

hope y'all liked this one :) lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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[cillianhead]

Hey hey, I just found your blog and I really like your writing - especially Sitting Pretty since I'm a sucker for those Crane fics. :3

Would you maybe be up for some kind of comfort/fluff fic with Crane?

I am always up for some comfort/fluff when it comes to Dr Jonathan Crane. He's so babygirl <3

Anyway, I hope you enjoy.... thank you so much for your request!

Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby || Jonathan Crane x Reader

warnings: none really, some brief mentions of violence, crying, angsty but also fluffy and comforting at the end, not really anything that bad to be honest, sort of non-canonical to anything that actually happened in the films.

It had been around a week since you had seen your boyfriend of three years. This was the longest you had gone without seeing Jonathan, without even hearing a peep from him. You even went to his work, he hadn't been there either. You knew what sort of dangerous work he did outside of Arkham and also within it, you knew the dangers and the risks he faced every time he left your apartment. You were still hopelessly devoted to him, despite the bad things that he has done and continues to do. You knew he would never hurt you. Him being gone felt like someone had ripped your heart out... like your soul was slowly being eaten away. Where was he? Was he even still alive? No. You mustn't think like that.

It was only a week, maybe he just needed some time away. Though he would've at least taken time off work, surely? His work told you he hadn't called in sick but he was supposed to be there. But he wasn't.

You hadn't cried. You found yourself growing more and more numb to the absence of Jonathan. It was like your body trying to reject a foreign object, trying to spit him out of your heart. It was painful and agonizingly slow, you knew you could never get over him, especially if you never got to say goodbye. His things lying around your apartment were a painful reminder of the fact he was gone. And he probably was never coming back.

You hadn't slept, at least not very well, in four days. You'd barely been eating either, maybe a stale cracker or two every now and then but you couldn't bring yourself to eat any proper meals. The best you could do was stare at the tiled wall as you stood in the scalding hot shower, trying to burn away the grief.

With the growing hunger and the fact you barely slept, paranoia was also sprouting within you, like some sort of sickly weed. You were worried that if Jonathan had been captured, whatever got him, was coming for you next. Every tiny little noise, every rumble, or car horn outside sent you running to the comfort of your shared bed. The one that smelt like him. You really couldn't sleep. Every shadow looked like some sort of evil horned figure ready to devour you whole, your eyes wide and frozen, helplessly full of fear. You thought about how Jonathan would assess this situation, how nerdy he got when you were afraid, in its own way you found it comforting the way he explained the body's reaction to fear and the way he explained the mind's power over the body.

The sleep you did get would be full of nightmares or vividly heartbreaking dreams. There was one you couldn't get over, a dream so sweet, more like a memory than anything else. Jonathan coming home from work, taking off his clothes and crawling into bed with you. His hands caressed your back softly, arms cradling you like you could shatter at any moment if he held you too tight. It felt so painfully real, that even when you began to wake up you could still feel him there. Still feeling his arms around you.

"Jonathan..." You whispered a sigh of relief, his arms pulled away from you as your heart raced with joy. Sitting up and looking around to find yourself just as alone as you had been for the past week. That's when you began to cry. "Jonathan..." You sobbed into your hands, you couldn't fall asleep after that. It was four in the morning, and the room was pretty much pitch black as you cried to yourself like a baby needing its mother.

Even more time passed. You were hysterical, you didn't pick up your phone when your friends called, you didn't leave the house, you didn't eat, and you most definitely didn't sleep. You were in bad shape, to say the least. It was that time of the year when the rain began to pour, your glass walls showed the bruised sky and the lightning it unleashed upon Gotham. You didn't work, Jonathan insisted on you staying at home, for him to provide for you. You were pretty happy staying at home and doing as you pleased. But now... it felt so different, there was no one to come home to you. You were pretty certain that the love of your life had died and you were going to spend the rest of your time alone. You knew you could never love again.

As if the sky knew how you felt, it only rained harder, it rained for days and it never stopped. You sat on the couch with a blanket draped over you as you lifelessly stared out at the dark sky. It was the middle of the night, and you thought about sweet nothings you and Jonathan shared. You thought about how lucky you were to see that side of him, so lucky you weren't on the other end, seeing the scarecrow, full of fear toxin. You thought about Jonathan humming while he made you pancakes, thought about the way he wrote you love letters almost every morning before he left for work, thought about the way you both were ready to get married soon. You remembered him holding your stomach while you brushed your teeth before bed and saying in that beautiful voice of his; "One day, you and I, are gonna have a bunch of beautiful babies and we'll live far far away from here. Everything will be perfect."

You sobbed and nothing brought you out of it. The pain in your chest was unbearable, no stupid fucking sad song or badly written poem could ever express it. There was no comprehensible word in any language that could truly explain away the agony you were in. You were no longer paranoid that something was going to come and hurt you, in fact, if there was someone or something out there coming to get you, you'd happily let it come in and put you out of your goddamn misery.

It was two soft raps on your bedroom window from the fire escape that caught your attention. You froze and stopped your crying, listening for it again, wondering if maybe you were just hearing things.

It's when you hear them again that you manage to stand up on shaky legs and wander into your bedroom that you see a shadow, leaning its weight against the window tiredly. It was him. With all the energy you could muster up, you ran to the window and slid it open before grabbing ahold of him and pulling him into your bedroom. You felt like you were going to have a heart attack.

"Y/N," Jonathan whispered. You didn't say a word, just turned on the lamp to light up the room. If this was a dream, you were going to try and enjoy every second of it. If this was the only way you could see your Jonny then you would take in every moment. "I... I missed you." And when you turned around, ready to scold him, ready to scream your lungs out at him for being gone, your heart broke all over again. His clothes were torn and covered in dried-up blood. Jonathan's neck was covered in bruises in the shape of handprints and his eyes were tired and void of any life. "Jonathan..." You whimpered, approaching him, he winced a bit as you placed your hands softly on his face. "Where have you been? What happened to you?" You were going to be angry at him before but now you understood... it wasn't his fault. He was soaking wet and you could see he had been crying too.

"I... I can't... really remember... I was drugged..." He mumbled, Jonathan's fingers curled around your waist and pulled you into a bone-crunching hug. He breathed you in, embracing you again was the only medicine he needed. Holding you was the only thing that could tell him was truly okay. "The Batman got me... I don't know how I managed to escape... just ended up here... I've been walking for days."

"Jonny..." You were crying as you sat him gently down on the bed. "I thought you..." You whispered. The strength was not in you to say it. "I thought you were..."

"Dead?" Jonathan croaked out, his voice was hoarse in a way that told you he had spent days on end screaming, from the torture he had been put through. "Yeah, me too." He said dryly.

You helped him undress. The clothes were pretty much useless so you tossed them on the floor in a pile to throw away later. "Let me clean you up..."

"No." He said. "Not right now..." Jonathan shook his head as he grabbed you and pulled you into his chest as you laid down in the bed with him again. "I just need to feel you..." His voice broke and in the process, your heart broke too. You could hear how defeated he was. "Need to feel you there." You understood, not saying another word as you clung to him. You listened to the sound of his heart, ear pressed right against his bare and bruised chest. You heard him sniffle, immediately causing you to pull away. "Oh, baby..." You cooed sadly, brushing a tear off his wounded cheek. The dam gates were open now as he began to cry, wincing at the salty tears mixing in with his busted face. "I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry that happened to you... I was so worried... you're here now... you're here with me... my baby."

"I thought about you every second," He sobbed. Jonathan looked like a helpless little child at that moment, his blue eyes were pitiful. "I thought I was going to die... thought I was never gonna get the chance to say goodbye to you..."

Together you sat crying, both with relief and sorrow as the rain poured outside, the heaven's crying with you. Everything felt okay again, for the both of you, now that you were with one another. "It's okay, Jonny." You tried to console him. Things had happened to him before, he'd been beaten up or caught in dangerous situations but he usually came home shrugging it off, this time you could tell he was severely traumatized, you could tell this was going to take a while for him to get over. Jonathan had that thousand-yard stare, that mischievous fire that usually lit up his eyes had been extinguished and now reflected the dreary weather outside. "I love you, baby, it's okay... nothing's ever going to hurt you again." You whispered, he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips. You kissed him as gently as you could, knowing his lip was swollen and split open, you could taste the metallic blood from his mouth and the saltiness of his tears.

"Y/N..." Jonathan wept, his face now buried in between your neck and your jaw. "It hurts." The tone of his voice was the most heart-shattering thing you'd ever heard.

"I know, my baby," You hushed as you laid back down again, caressing his hair that was still wet from the rain. "Nothing will ever hurt you again." You reassured once again. "Nothing's going to take you from my side."

You cried your own tears of sadness, relieved he was back in your arms, relieved that you were there to take care of him and nurse him back to health. The morning sun had begun to rise by the time you two had properly nestled into your bed, skin pressed together, legs intertwined. Jonathan slept in your arms, you held him like a baby, you couldn't sleep, too happy to have him in your arms again.

"As long as you're with me, you'll be just fine..." You whispered softly into his hair.

-

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader #cillian x fem!reader #Jonathan Crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #scarecrow x reader #batman #batman begins #batman dark knight #batman the dark knight #the dark knight rises #the dark knight trilogy #christopher nolan #christian bale

[genderkoolaid]

Is there a reason why common binding advice isn't pulled from this study: Health impact of chest binding among transgender adults: a community-engaged, cross-sectional study? It seems to me like the most comprehensive research yet, but all online binding advice I see just repeats the "8 hours a day or less" advice but never mentions the "give yourself days off from binding" advice which was found to be more important.

I think most people probably just haven't heard of it! Although it is important to recognize that this is just one study. Still, it is good to see research being done by people who recognize the importance of binding for trans people's mental health and safety.

The full article can be read here for free. Here's the part being referenced from the Discussion section:

Binding frequency, or average days per week spent binding, was the factor most consistently associated with risk for self-reported negative health outcomes in adjusted analyses (22/28 outcomes). This suggests that taking ‘off’ days from binding could potentially reduce risk for negative health impacts. This is notable given that over half of participants bind daily and do not regularly take off days. Current community resources largely recommend reducing binding intensity (i.e., hours per day spent binding) to reduce negative physical effects (Hudson 2004; TransGuys 2014), but our data do not necessarily support this recommendation, as intensity was largely unassociated with physical health outcomes in multivariate analyses. Based on this study, individuals may consider reducing the frequency of binding, in addition to or instead of reducing the daily intensity of binding, to minimise or prevent negative physical symptoms. Binding intensity was associated with many outcomes in bivariate analyses, which may be why binding intensity is perceived to be associated with negative health impacts. However, after adjusting for other binding practices, intensity was unassociated with most outcomes in multivariate models, and was in fact negatively associated with four outcomes (numbness, lightheadedness, fatigue and weakness). This puzzling finding may indicate issues of reverse causation whereby individuals who experience negative health outcomes reduce their average binding intensity, so that lower intensities appear associated with negative outcomes. Given that many community resources recommend reducing binding intensity if negative symptoms are experienced, this explanation is plausible, but longitudinal data are needed to fully understand the relationship between binding intensity and negative physical outcomes.

They also discuss binding duration (how many years spent binding) and which types of binding had the least negative outcomes.

#m. #ask box

[lovings4turn]

[ 🐈‍⬛ ] slide out the window — send me a prompt + a character / driver , and i'll write a mini fic based off of it

oscar piastri + cuddles after a loooong media day 🫶🏽

oh i absolutely adored this idea , thanks sm for sending it in lovely !!!

"god, 'm so tired."

oscar hadn't even bothered to change, still sporting his bright orange - no, sorry, papaya - mclaren shirt as he made his way over to where you were sat on the couch.

his feet dragged across the floor, and though he was smiling, you could tell he was absolutely exhausted. in the four years you'd known him, oscar had never been the most energetic person, and you could tell that the long media days that came with being a formula one driver were beginning to get to him.

with an understanding pout, you pulled back your blanket opened your arms, mumbling a c'mere. a small 'oof' escaped you as oscar flopped into your arms, all but collapsing on top of you as his head found its way into the crook of your neck.

"long day?" you asked, despite already knowing the answer.

you brought one hand up to his hair, gently running your fingers through the strands as the other drew shapes against the skin of his bicep.

"they're trying to kill me," oscar responded, his words muffled. "i haven't stopped since this morning."

"y'poor thing."

you were half teasing, but still felt a pang of sympathy for your boyfriend. you could imagine it was draining to do a day full of media, having to be full of energy and responsive at all times to avoid rumours of being 'rude' or 'boring'.

after a few moments of you holding him, oscar began to relax under your touch. he lifted his head, brown eyes swirling pools of honey as they scanned your features fondly. he pressed a soft, chaste kiss to your lips before returning his head to the crook of your neck, pressing another kiss to the skin he found there.

if you didn't know any better, you'd think oscar was trying to merge his body with your own, climb under your skin so he'd never be separated from you again.

but you knew your boyfriend far too well, and cuddles were the quickest way for him to bounce back from a drained social battery. you were more than happy to nurse him back to health, even if your arms eventually went numb underneath the weight of his body.

cuddling oscar was an honour you would cherish, and as his breathing evened out above you, you felt like the luckiest person on earth.

#.° ༘🦇⋆₊˚ෆ becca celebrates #✮⋆˙ becca hits 500! #.° ༘🗝️⋆₊ becca’s drabbles #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri blurb #oscar piastri drabble #f1 x you #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one x you

[butdaddyilovehim-hs]

Rainbows and Hospital Rooms

Based of @mindofharry 's idea of Harry being a grumpy doctor and Y/N is a new intern at the hospital :)

Word Count: 1.5k

Y/N wasn’t really sure what to expect when she walked through the revolving doors of St Thomas’ Hospital. 

She’d been awake since four am, too excited about her first day as an intern. All she’d ever wanted was to help people. Before her mum passed away, she would call her a guardian angel - always around to lend a hand whenever there was trouble. Y/N believed that her mum was her guardian angel now, looking down on her in heaven. Her sweet, bubbly nature only added to her charm. She befriended everyone she met within moments, in fact Y/N was pretty sure she hadn’t met someone she hadn’t been able to win over eventually. You see, Y/N got a kick out of being kind. Whether it be letting someone ahead of her in the grocery line or sharing a coffee with the homeless man on her street, Y/N was always looking for a way to spread kindness. 

Making a good first impression was extremely important to Y/N so when she realised that she’s lost in the lobby of the hospital she started to sweat a little bit. She had decided on a whim to bake some cookies for the other interns and since it had taken her longer than expected, she wasn’t early as she had planned, but instead right on time. But being right on time and being lost in the lobby meant that now she was… late. On her first day. 

After asking for directions as quickly as she could, a rather flustered Y/N made her way to the correct room, opening the door quietly and turning red as 5 heads turned to stare in her direction. 4 were interns like her, she could tell. Young, most wearing a nervous expression and in casual clothes. The other person in the room was different. For one, he was standing in front of all the others, evidently leading the group in some sort of welcome. He was older, significantly when compared to the others in the room but Y/N couldn’t imagine he was older than 35. Compared to her 22 years, it was a rather large gap. His eyes were a striking shade of green and when they focused on her, Y/N didn’t like the way it made her feel. A swooping feeling in her stomach overwhelmed her and she felt the urge to leave the way she came, shut the door and go home. It might have been because the man standing before her was outrageously attractive. Quite possibly the most beautiful man she had ever seen, with sculpted cheekbones, those eyes, a sharp nose and lips that looked so soft, Y/N almost wanted to lean in and touch them with her own just to see if they were really as soft as they looked. 

Unfortunately for Y/N, accompanying all this beauty was an incredibly frustrated expression and it was directed at her. 

“Miss Y/N I presume. You’re-“ the man looked down at the shiny Rolex on his left wrist. “6 minutes late. Is there a reason why you couldn’t be on time like the rest of your peers or shall we just put it down to plain disrespect?” 

Y/N’s mouth opened and then closed like a fish. She was speechless.

“I’m so sorry um… sir?” She floundered for a moment, pondering what exactly to call him.

“It’s Dr Styles, to you. This isn’t military camp, although I do run a rather tight ship. Now if you would sit down, I can continue.” 

“Ok, Dr Styles it is. I am SO sorry I’m late, you see I was just-

“Please, don’t explain yourself, I don’t have the energy to listen to whatever bullshit story you decided to come up with on the way here. I’d appreciate it if you would take a seat. Every moment I waste on you, is a moment I could be saving someone’s life.”

“But I just wanted to-”

“Y/N. Sit. Down.”

Y/N blinked as he stared at her expectantly, his expression growing more frustrated by the second. She walked slowly to the empty seat in the front row and sat down, feeling rather numb. 

“Now, as I was saying before Miss Y/N decided to make her grand entrance, my name is Dr Harry Styles and I am the head of paediatrics here at St Thomas’. 

Paediatrics? Y/N thought to herself. Oh those poor children being unwell and having to be treated by the biggest asshole on earth. She wondered whether he was just as awful to the patients or whether he had perfected his bedside manner. Probably the latter, he seemed like a perfectionist. Her daydream was interrupted as an older man and woman entered the room, dressed in similar scrubs to Dr Styles. 

“Now, normally I handle all the interns myself, but since there are five of you, and my workload has grown rather heavily over the last year, I have enlisted my colleagues for some help. Dr Hannah Williams and Dr Richard Abrams.” Dr Styles explained, introducing them both. They waved and Dr Williams sent Y/N a smile and Y/N crossed her fingers and toes, hoping that she would be assigned to the nice woman with the warm smile. 

“Max and Amelie you’re with Dr Abrams. Rachel and Luke, you’re with Dr Williams. And that leaves… ”

Y/N’s heart sank.

“Y/N, you’re with me. Lucky you.” He smirked at her obvious lack of enthusiasm before continuing. 

“I’m sure you’re all aware that this is a 6 week internship. While I may not be directly supervising all of you, I will be observing you all closely. At the end of your period at St Thomas’ one of you will be offered a permanent position here. My advice? Do you best, and use what you know. You were all offered this internship for a reason, you’ve got the next six weeks to prove to me why you deserve to be here. Y/N come with me. Max and Amelie, Richard will show you where to go. Same for you Luke and Rachel, Hannah has you guys covered.” 

Y/N gathered her things quickly as Dr Styles left the room swiftly. She trailed behind him, mustering up the courage to speak. 

“Is there a reason you were so horrible to me in there?” The words left Y/N’s mouth before she could stop them and Dr Styles stopped walking abruptly in the middle of the corridor, almost causing her to face plant into his back. 

“Oh grow up Y/N. Welcome to the real world. I don’t have energy to waste on people who aren’t punctual. If this is too much for you to handle, or If I’m too much for you to handle, quit. No one is stopping you.”

He waited expectantly, but Y/N was silent.

“Good. Now if you’re done with your little outburst, we have patients to see. Try not to waste my time Y/N. Most people don’t dare to talk back to me, especially on the first day. I picked you because you intrigued me and I thought I saw potential. Don’t prove me wrong.” 

Y/N nodded, her thoughts going a million miles a minute. Dr Styles led her into a closed corridor, where the walls were filled with colour, shapes and animals.

“The first patient we’re going to see today is a 5 year old named Jackson. Jackson has stage 3 terminal cancer. At this stage it’s all about keeping him comfortable. He’s wary of new people, so just be gentle.”

He opened a door, and it was almost like someone had flipped a switch. The second the door had opened, Dr Styles’ face had switched from a stern expression to a wide smile. He was so pretty when he smiled, Y/N thought, before shaking it from her head and following him into the room. 

“Hey little superman! How are we feeling today?” Dr Styles asked the young boy, who was lying in the bed watching a dinosaur cartoon on his iPad. Y/N’s heart broke at the number of wires and medical equipment surrounding the little boy. 

“I’m bored. Can I go play outside?? Please Harry pleaseeeee.” Jackson pouted his lips at Dr Styles and Y/N suppressed a giggle. She watched him as a flicker of emotion crossed his face before he shook his head.

“Sorry not today little dude, but how about I try and get Nurse Rebecca to bring you something special later on?”

“Ok.” Jackson’s face fell as he directed his attention back to the screen. Y/N shifted slightly to the side and he looked up, making eye contact with her.

“Who’s that? Is she your girlfriend Harry? She’s very pretty.”

Y/N turned bright red and Dr Styles seemed to choke on air before spluttering out a response. 

“Not my girlfriend Jackson. This is Y/N, I’m showing her what it’s like to work here.”

“Hi Jackson, it’s nice to meet you!” Y/N sent the boy a small wave and he waved back. 

“We’ll come and visit you again later buddy ok?” Dr Styles ushered Y/N slowly out of the room, shutting the door behind her. 

They stood in silence for a moment, Dr Styles watching Jackson through the small window, a pensive expression on his face. 

“He’s a really sweet kid.” Y/N spoke softly. 

“He is.” Dr Styles agreed gruffly, and Y/N watched as his eyes began to mist. But as quickly as the tears had formed, they were gone and he was blinking them away and continuing down the hallway. 

“Hurry up Y/N we have people to see and you know how I feel about punctuality.” 

Y/N smiled softly, trailing after him. There was something there, more to Dr Styles than he was letting her see and Y/N was determined to figure him out.

A/N: Hello!! This was a super short random thing that I might continue hehe

Tags:

@lukesaprince @harrys-flower @harryspirate @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @lilyrmason12 @styleslover-1994 @stylesfever @kathb59 @indierockgirrl @bxbyysstuff @gills-lounge

#harry styles #hslot #love on tour #harrystyles #harry styles au #harry styles fic #harry styles fics #harry styles x fem!reader

[candycandy00]

The Doll House - A Sukuna x Reader Fanfic Part 2

Covered in scars and left totally numb by your abusive previous owner, you’re considered an “unsellable doll”. That is, until the Doll House takes you in and Sukuna becomes your trainer.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Read Geto’s Part Here!

Read Toji’s Part Here!

Read Nanami’s Part Here!

Read Gojo’s Part Here!

Read Choso’s Part Here!

Note: Please remember that these stories don’t take place at the same time, or even one after the other! Consider each one its own timeline. So if you see Geto and Toji with other dolls, don’t be alarmed lol. I had to do it this way because if I don’t, by the time I get to the last trainer, there won’t be any other trainers left to interact with!

AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Sukuna’s. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored! I’m not keeping the same tag list as before, since this part deals with darker themes. I will resume the tag list after Sukuna’s part is finished! So if you want to be tagged in this one, please specify!

Note: Consider these parts AU’s within an AU. So you might see Geto with a different doll from the reader in his part, but just consider this an alternate timeline lol.

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. BDSM. Erotic Torture. Bondage. Clamps. Electric shocks. Reader is covered in scars. Everything that happens between Sukuna and Reader is consensual but there is mention of abuse by a previous owner. Divider by @benkeibear!

You’ve been numb for three years, but right now, your body is alive with sensation. This always happens when you’re having a training session with Sukuna, and after a week of being in his “care”, you’re still not quite used to it. You don’t know why you can feel the things he does to you in these moments, or why you return to being numb once the sessions end, but right this second, you only want to enjoy feeling it. 

Chains coil around your body as you sway slightly, suspended from the ceiling. Your arms are behind your back, sore and bruised. Your feet are curled up behind you, almost touching your hands, your thighs held far apart by a bar at your knees. You don’t have a stitch of clothing anywhere on you, but you’re “covered” in an entirely different way.

Fierce, heavy metal clamps hang from your nipples and your clit, biting into your most sensitive places. The chains dig into your skin, leaving purple and black stripes where they wrap around you. And you’re covered head to toe in Sukuna’s cum. 

He’s fucked every hole you have numerous times today, always pulling out and shooting his seed onto your body, letting it slide and drip down your flesh until it has completely coated you. You can feel it in your hair, all over your face, in your mouth, pouring over the painful clamps. A few times he’s left the room, left you hanging naked and filthy and bruised in the dark, letting his cum dry and cake on your skin, only to come back and give you a fresh coat. 

Several times, he removed the clamp from your clit, rubbed and pinched the aching bud mercilessly until you came, then put the clamp right back on while you were still trembling from your orgasm. 

Presently, he’s fucking your mouth again, holding your head steady by your hair, his enormous cock slamming into your throat. Your face is covered in various fluids - his cum, your tears, and your saliva. You’ve never been such a mess before in your life. 

You have both a safe word and a safe hand gesture you can use if you need to. But you can’t imagine ever using them. All these sensations wracking your body make you feel so very alive. You can’t get enough of it. 

There’s a big difference between the pain you experienced at the hands of your previous owner, and what Sukuna is doing to you now. There’s an artistry to the way Sukuna alternates between giving you pleasure and giving you pain. You’ve already had more orgasms in this one week than you’ve had in your entire life before coming here. And unlike before, you have some measure of control. You can stop this at any time, even switch trainers if you wish. 

You wouldn’t think of it. You’re already addicted to these feelings. 

Sukuna’s grip on your hair tightens as he shoves his cock as far in as possible, choking you as he cums down your throat. You swallow it as fast as you can. You’re parched and you want every drop. 

When he pulls out, he tucks himself back into his pants and begins removing all three clamps from your body. They somehow hurt worse coming off than going on. You wince and whimper as his fingers rub the places where the clamps were, the numbness slowly beginning to spread through you again. He unchains you, his strong arms holding you up, not letting your feet touch the floor. 

He carries you to the bathroom, where a hot, steaming bath is waiting for you. He eases you down into the water, then hands you a loofa as well as some shampoo and soap. “Can you do it yourself?” he asks.

“Yeah, I can,” you answer, reaching for the shampoo. You’re tired, but the soreness you felt earlier is completely gone. 

He nods and steps out of the room. 

********************

Sukuna is cleaning up after the latest training session in his room, putting away various items and setting some aside to be washed. He prides himself in keeping everything neat and clean, even though he thoroughly enjoys making messes. 

His idea for today worked perfectly. If his doll could only feel during a training session, then why not just have the training session last all day? So he kept her in that “training” mindset, kept her chained up since this morning. No previous doll he’s trained could withstand this, could last so long and take so much punishment. But this one can. Is it because she’s so starved for sensation? 

Back in the bathroom, the doll is now standing in the shower, rinsing off. Her body still intrigues him, both because of her unusual condition and because of those scars. 

“How did he make those?” Sukuna asks her, pointing to the most prominent scarring pattern that stretches from her face down to her hip. 

She’s not the least bit shy about being nude in front of him, and he finds that refreshing. She casually glances down at her side and says, “He made me strip and then poured boiling water over me. Well, over the left side of me.”

“That must have been agonizing,” Sukuna says, his eyes shining. 

“Not really. It was one of the last things he did before I was removed. I was already numb by then.”

“Do you know why he did it?”

She lowers her eyes as she reaches for a towel to dry off on. “I accidentally spilled wine on his shirt while pouring a glass for him.”

Sukuna can’t help laughing at how pointless the cruelty was. The doll looks at him curiously, but doesn’t say anything. If she’s offended by his laughter, she doesn’t show it. 

“What about those?” he asks, pointing to a series of scarred lines across her abdomen. 

“Oh, these? It’s hard to tell since half of them blended in with the burn scars, but he carved words into me.”

Looking closely, Sukuna can see letters. He can make out the first few of two different words: “whore” and “cunt”. 

Sukuna chuckles. “He wasn’t very creative, was he?”

“No, he wasn’t,” she says. The corners of her lips move up slightly. Did she almost smile? She finishes drying and drops the towel into the nearby hamper, then pulls on one of his older shirts that he laid out for her before heading out of the bathroom. 

She had no luggage, no belongings, when she was brought in. She’s been wearing his shirts when she’s not naked, which Sukuna doesn’t really mind. There’s something appealing about the way his clothes look hanging off her body, the fabric rubbing over her otherwise bare skin. But she needs some of her own clothes. 

“What do you like to wear?” he asks her as she sits down on his bed. “I’ll pick up some clothes for you.”

She looks mildly surprised by the offer. “Oh, um… just jeans and tshirts mostly.”

Boring choices, but he supposes someone with her background had no need for anything formal. Maybe he’ll pick up something a little more sexy while he’s at it. “I’ll go out tomorrow. Do you need anything else?”

“No, nothing I can think of,” she says, her voice small and quiet as usual. Then she looks at him as she adds, “Thank you.”

He doesn’t think it’s anything worth thanking him for. He’s bought clothes for the dolls he’s trained in the past, usually because he ruined the clothes they brought with them or they simply were not dressing to his standards. But her little expression of gratitude seemed so sincere, so strangely heartfelt for someone who could barely feel emotions anymore. 

“I take it your previous owner didn’t buy you many gifts,” he says. 

She shakes her head. “He only ever took from me. I had one possession that I cared about, a silver locket my mom gave me before she died, and he tore it off my neck the first day I was there.”

Her stories do not pull at Sukuna’s heartstrings. He’s not even sure he has any of those. But he does find them interesting. In fact, he finds every part of her interesting, which is far more than he could say for any of his previous dolls. It’s a strange feeling to him, actually wanting to know more about someone. 

After having some tea and some warm food, she curls up in the bed and falls asleep almost instantly, no doubt exhausted. 

****************

The next morning, you wake up to find yourself alone in the room. You climb out of bed and stretch, even though you don’t feel stiff or sore. It’s just a habit, some phantom muscle memory. 

Strangely, you can still feel hungry or thirsty, even if you can’t feel a stomach ache or a dry throat. You’re aware that your condition is related to mental blocks you’ve subconsciously placed on yourself, but you don’t really understand how they work. 

Right now, you want some breakfast, so you open the door and head out into the hallway. You’ve never been outside the room since the day you arrived, but Sukuna told you there’s a kitchen and a dining hall further down the hall. He always brings back food for you, but he’s never told you not to go yourself. So you walk until you reach what must be the dining hall. 

It’s empty, probably too early for anyone else to be there. There are several tables with chairs set up around the room, along with a very long table on one side. There’s no food there, but there are stacks of plates, utensils, napkins, and other such items. You can smell food cooking somewhere, perhaps through the door behind the long table. 

Beyond the dining hall, you find a small kitchen that you assume is there for the trainers and dolls to use, separate from whatever kitchen prepares the main meals. It has the basics: a stove/oven, microwave, coffee maker, toaster, refrigerator, sink, and a few cabinets. You open the fridge to check out the contents and find a mesh bag full of small oranges. Is it okay for you to take one? Do they belong to a specific trainer, or everyone? Shrugging to yourself, you reach in and take one from the bag. Just as you close the fridge door, two men walk into the kitchen. 

One of them is very tall, with messy white hair and dark round sunglasses. The other has long, silky black hair. They were talking as they walked in, but when they spot you, their voices trail off. Both of them stare at you silently for a moment, then the one with long hair says, “Oh, hello. Who might you be?”

You’re standing there in the unfamiliar kitchen, holding a possibly stolen orange, wearing nothing but one of Sukuna’s shirts (which thankfully covers enough of you to be decent). “I’m a doll. I’m being trained by Sukuna.”

The two of them glance at each other, then the one with white hair removes his sunglasses and looks you up and down, obviously taking in your various scars. His expression changes from surprise to horror. 

“Oh my God, you poor thing! What has he done to you?! Do you need us to hide you? Blink if you need help!”

“Satoru,” the long haired man says, “you’re being rude. Those scars are clearly old. Sukuna didn’t make them.”

The white haired man looks more closely at you, then exhales in relief. “Sorry, I just assumed the worst and… wait, did you just blink?”

“Uh, I tried not to,” you say. “I don’t need any help though. I’m fine. Thanks for offering.”

The long haired man gives you a pleasant smile. “You’ll have to forgive us. We don’t normally see Sukuna’s dolls unless we catch a glimpse of them as they’re arriving or leaving.”

“Really? He never told me not to leave the room, so I figured it was okay. I got hungry. Do you know if it’s okay to take an orange?”

The long haired man looks at the orange in your hand. “It’s fine. There’s plenty left.”

The white haired man is looking at you somewhat suspiciously. “Are you sure you don’t need help? I mean we all hear the screaming.”

“I’m sure,” you tell him, forcing a smile. “It’s the good kind of screaming.”

“Okay, but now you’ve got me real curious,” he says. “What is he doing to-“

“Hey, stop harassing my doll,” a voice says from the doorway. All three of you look over to see Sukuna standing just inside the kitchen. 

The other two men look slightly uncomfortable. The one with long hair smiles again, though it seems like a fake smile. “Hey, Sukuna. You’re out early today.”

Sukuna grins. “I had to go buy her some clothes. Unlike you freaks, I like for my dolls to dress normally from time to time.”

Before the other two can respond, Sukuna takes your hand and leads you back to his room. After he shuts the door behind you, he notices the orange in your hand. “Got hungry?”

You begin peeling it with your fingers. “Yeah. Was it okay for me to go to the kitchen?”

“You can go wherever you want in this house, aside from the other trainers’ rooms. Why?”

“Those two guys acted like you never let your dolls out.”

Sukuna scoffs. “They’re all morons. My dolls leave my room all the time. They just never go to the dining hall during regular meal times. By choice. Have I ever told you not to go?”

You shake your head, chewing a bite of the fruit. “No.”

“Then whether you stay in here or go out there is up to you.” 

After finishing the orange, you look through the shopping bags sitting on the bed. There are several pairs of jeans, in various colors, and more tshirts than you’ve ever seen in one place. They all look expensive, and they’re all in your size. 

Digging deeper into the bags, you find underwear, socks, three different pajama sets, and finally, a dress. It’s short, black, and silky, with no straps. It’s beautiful, but you can’t imagine a reason for you to ever wear such a thing. 

“All this for me?” you ask, holding one of the shirts up to your body. 

“You’re going to be here another five weeks. Might as well have something to wear,” he replies. 

You feel something then, a fluttering in your chest, a bubbling of some emotion. Is this happiness? You’re not sure, but you like it. 

**************

Later in the day, Sukuna begins another training session. The doll is strung up from the ceiling, in a harness. Her arms are tied above her head, her knees up near her chest, leaving her spread eagle, naked, totally at his mercy. Just the way he likes his dolls. 

He loves watching her numb body come alive, the way she goes from having no reaction whatsoever to moaning, quivering and trembling beneath his touch. When her nerves are awake, she feels everything so acutely. She becomes far more sensitive than even she realizes.  

Sukuna always starts with pleasure. It’s the best way to get her nerves working and get her in the right mindset. So his fingers are delicately stroking her wet clit, being oh so gentle. She’s shaking in the harness, gasping out short little moans as she cums. 

Immediately after, Sukuna pulls out a device he very much enjoys using on dolls, at least the ones who are into pain. It looks like a square metal box, with various thin cables connected to it. At the ends of the cables are small clips, which he attaches to her nipples and clit. She looks at him silently, a glint of excitement in her eyes. Whatever he’s going to make her feel, she’s looking forward to it. 

The device sends currents of powerful electricity through the cables. Apparently some places in the world use it as an actual torture device. Online, someone described it as feeling as if you’re being snapped with a thousand rubber bands all at once. And that’s on the low setting. Sukuna has never turned it higher than that before, but he believes this doll can take more. So he sets the device to medium power and pushes the button to turn it on. 

The doll’s body jerks as if she’s been punched in the gut, her eyes wide, her hands clenching air above her head, her mouth open as shaky screams leave her. She twists in the harness, the motions making for a truly erotic sight, all of her scarred beauty on lewd display. 

He lets the currents assault her sensitive flesh for a good ten minutes before turning it off. She’s left twitching all over, her breaths catching in her throat, tears freely pouring down her face. He can’t hold back anymore. He quickly opens his pants as closes the distance between them. Before she seems to realize what’s happening, his cock is already buried inside her. She moans as he thrusts into her, hard and deep, hitting her sweet spots. 

He watches her face, notices the way the tears make wavy trails over her scars, and he can’t resist licking them. After running his tongue over the marred skin, he looks at her again, and there’s an expression on her face that he’s never seen her wear before. Is she… blushing? She turns her face away from him, as if embarrassed. But this strangely emotional reaction from her is simply too delicious to ignore. 

Sukuna grabs her face with one hand and turns it back to him, then parts her lips with his thumb. He kisses her, sticking his tongue into her mouth, muffling her moans as he continues fucking her. It’s more intimate than he usually gets with his dolls, but he can’t resist drawing more emotions from her. He doesn’t break the kiss until after they both cum, him pumping her full of his seed and then quickly pulling out, letting it drip from her pussy and make a mess on the floor. 

She’s panting and shuddering, unable to do anything else while tied up in the harness. While she’s still in this state, raw both physically and emotionally, Sukuna steps back over to the device, sets it to high, and pushes the button. 

The screams alone are enough to get him hard again. 

Hours later, after baths, cleanup, dinner, and trying on new pajamas, the two of them are lying in bed. She’s on her side, facing away from him. Perhaps she’s already asleep, but he’s noticed her being oddly shy this evening. Out of curiosity, to see if she reacts, he reaches over and runs one hand down her unscarred arm. She seems to shiver, and rolls over to look at him. 

“I… I felt that,” she says, wide eyed. Her feeling has never lasted this long after a session has ended. She sits up in bed. “It’s weird, I can’t feel the fabric of the sheets. All I can feel is…”

Sukuna grins. “My touch.”

Again, there’s that look on her face, as if she’s embarrassed. He finds it cute. He pulls her back down, then closer to his body, wrapping his arms around her. She gasps at the sensations, but then sighs as she curls up against him. 

Sukuna feels some unfamiliar emotion when he looks at her, when he listens to her quiet breathing, when he feels the warmth of her body. He doesn’t know what it is, and he’s not sure he likes it, but it’s there all the same. So he drifts off to sleep, planning the next training session. 

Tag List: 

@akaotv @khaleesihavilliard @issracollen @maflorex @dabislittlemouse 

#sukuna x reader #Sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna smut #x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #ryomen sukuna x reader

[heartpascal]

please don’t lose it again

— joel miller x platonic!f!reader

— summary: the aftermath

— a/n: i’m replaying tlou2 and got to the scene again. this followed. sorry if the flow isn’t great!! im all over the place. please please please heed warnings. love you so much. not the official ending for itdws!

— warnings: major tlou 2 spoilers, major character death, grief, burying a loved one, loss, spoilers for itdws, throwing up / vomiting (referenced, not really explicit), all the stages of grief in like 3 minutes, guilt, blame, being sad, GORE, or descriptions of gore, and dead bodies

— taglist: @rhymingtree @sleepygraves @wnstice (everything) @auggiesolovey @just-kaylaa @evyiione @lemonlaides @faceache111 @randomhoex @canpillowscry @pedropascalsrealgf @star-wars-lover @coolchick333 @soobsdior @rvjaa @sunflowersdrop @definitely-not-a-seagull-i-swear @miss-celestial-being (pedro)

a what if one shot from the if the door wasn’t shut universe!

masterlist (part one , part two , part three , part four , part five )

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

The world is full of horrors.

You learned that much a long, long time ago. In your formative years, your youth, when you were actually a child, you had experienced more horrors than you could name. You didn’t have enough hands to count them on. There was loss and there was pain and there was Joel.

There was a brief time, after arriving to Jackson, where you didn’t have Joel. A part of you always knew he would come back. Not for you, that was true, but you had always known that he would be back. That he wasn’t gone in the way so many were. That Tess was. In the very depths of your mind, he lingered. Even if he had left you behind, he was still with you, in the worst of ways.

You have never lived in a world which didn’t have Joel Miller.

He had always seemed untouchable. Unmovable. As if the world could only move around him.

You never thought you would have to live in a world without him.

There was always a certainty that you’d held. Joel would outlive you. He would survive, where you wouldn’t. Despite how you had improved in your skills out in the wild, in the back of your mind, when you saw Joel, you had always believed he would be the one to bury you.

Because even if Joel hadn’t stayed for you, he would surely stay for your death. It was who he was. Always the survivor, always the one to bury the bodies, always the one left.

You had never considered what it would be like to bury Joel.

Even now, as you sit with your hand pressed against the freshly turned earth, frozen at your fingertips, you aren’t sure you really know what it’s like. Because, surely, there’s no way that Joel Miller could be reduced to this. A body in the dirt. A faceless name left upon a headstone, forgotten in a garden of the dead.

He was alive yesterday.

He was alive.

How could they have buried him? You think of the way the dirt has iced over, numbing your fingers. You wonder how much effort had gone into plunging a shovel into the dirt. How much ice had formed on Joel’s skin when they put him in there?

He would be cold, out here. Without the jacket you knew was hung up in his closet. He would be cold.

“C’mon,” Jesse said, faintly. “Put your gloves on.” He tried, crouching beside you, beside Joel, with the very gloves Joel had gotten you held in his hands. Did you thank him, for those? You needed to. You needed to thank him.

You turn your head away from the wooden headstone, the clumsy carving that Joel could’ve done better, the letters spelling his name. If you don’t look, if you turn your face away, or close your eyes, Joel is still out on patrol. He’s wearing his jacket, holding his gun, pressing a warm hand against his hip in his signature pose. He’s not cold.

But when you turn back, it’s still his name. The ground is still frozen, and as much as you press your hand against the dirt, Joel doesn’t reach towards you. Joel doesn’t do anything. Joel stays buried underneath frozen dirt, underneath snow and ice. Joel stays cold.

Jesse’s hand is warm when he grips your own, his stare concerned and helpless. You wonder what would have happened if it had been you on patrol. If you were the one taking Joel and Tommy off duty. You wonder if you could’ve saved him. You pull your hand away.

He follows you when you stand up.

When you look back, Joel’s headstone blends in with the others. There’s nothing remarkable setting it apart, nothing screaming that it was Joel and he had been alive yesterday.

You wonder who the other headstones belong to. You wonder if anybody remembers them. You wonder why nobody is here, visiting. You wonder if Joel’s grave will end up the same way.

Vaguely, you notice that you’re counting. As you walk, you count the crunch of snow beneath your boots. There are thirty-three steps from Joel’s grave to his door. Thirty-three measly steps between his home, and where his body is buried. Did he know, yesterday, when he was drinking his morning coffee — the coffee you had brought him — that he would spend the rest of time buried thirty-three steps away? Did he have any idea that he would never come home? That he would always be thirty-three steps away?

Tommy is stood in the house when you walk in. His head is bruised, blood still crusted on his skin, and you wonder what happened. You wonder how this could have happened. He doesn’t look like the same man who had once walked on a patrol with you, gun raised, vigilant in every movement. If they let Tommy live, if they let Ellie live, why did they kill Joel? Why did they stop him from coming home?

It’s not long until you realise that you have nobody to ask about Tess. Tommy had long ago told you everything he could remember, most of which was corrected by Joel. Is there anybody left in the world who knew her? Anybody left who would ask about her?

Will it just be you, until your death, who remembers Tess? Who remembers Joel? After you, Tommy and Ellie are gone, who will know him? Who will remember him? Who will put flowers on the grave in which they buried him?

You wonder how long it will be until people wonder about his grave, as you had with the others. How long it will be until he’s forgotten.

What’s going to happen to his pictures? The photographs of Joel and Sarah? Of him and Ellie? Of you and him? Who is going to understand each of these pictures? Who is going to know what was happening in each? How many memories are gone, now that Joel is dead?

“Kid, I…” Tommy trails off, eyebrows furrowed.

Joel is dead.

He’ll never finish the supply of coffee you gave to him. He’ll never complete the guitar he was making for you. He’ll never finish reading your favourite book. He’ll never receive the new mug you’d made for him. He’ll never do anything. Because Joel Miller is dead, and he’s buried thirty-three steps away.

How do you fix that?

How do you tell Joel that you’ll forgive him for ever leaving, that you’ll forgive him for everything, if he just comes back? If this time, he comes back to you. How will he know that things could go back to normal? That you’d— you would do anything. You would bring him all the coffee you found. You would watch every shitty movie he wanted. You would make him every damn mug he asked for. You would forget about him ever leaving at all. You would go back to normal. To before he left, but better.

All he had to do was come back again. That was it.

He just had to prove that it wasn’t him they buried. That the disfigured body they’d brought back to Jackson wasn’t him. That he wasn’t the one who’d had his head caved apart. Joel had proved things that had been far crazier. Surely, for you, he’d be able to prove this.

He would come through the door, all amused grins and warm jacket, and he would walk the thirty-three steps to his grave and tear the headstone with his name on from the ground. He would make fun of Tommy for ever believing it to be him, and he’d make a better gravestone, the name — which wasn’t Joel Miller — carved on neatly, more clearly.

Joel Miller was a survivor. He had to survive.

You aren’t quite sure what you’ll do if he doesn’t.

“I’m sorry.” Tommy says eventually, finally finding his words, and the look on his face reduces your denial to ash. You look at him, trying to find the similarities between him and the mess of the body that had truly been Joel. You find nothing. No resemblance between the body and Tommy. It makes it all the more difficult to believe that he’s dead. You’re not quite sure what Tommy is apologising for. Was it his fault? Did he goad that—that girl into cracking Joel’s skull? Into spilling his blood out of his veins? Into leaving him there like that? Like a body, not a human being?

Jesse says your name, gently, as if your skull would cave if he spoke it any louder. You realise that you’re standing here, in Joel’s house, in the very place that you had drank tea and coffee and whiskey with him, and you have no reason to be here. There’s no Joel to make you a terrible cup of tea, or to play his guitar while you carve at his workshop desk. There’s no Joel, and all of Tommy’s apologies won’t change that.

“I didn’t—” You cut yourself off, finding that you can’t speak any further, lest your throat go dry and your eyes get wet. And really, the words you had gotten out are enough. You didn’t.

You didn’t save him. You didn’t give him that god forsaken mug. You didn’t take him dinner. You didn’t tell him how much you appreciated him. You didn’t tell him that you loved him. You didn’t tell him that he was your dad when nobody else was. You didn’t forgive him.

“It’s okay.” Jesse tells you, and he believes it, obvious in his arms as they wrap firmly around you. Obvious in the way he holds your head, in the way he breathes. But it’s not. It’s not okay.

How could it be okay? You want to yell at him. You want to scream at him that Joel is dead, that it’ll never be okay. You want to do something, anything, but there’s nothing you can do. It wouldn’t matter. Joel would still be dead, and still, nothing would be okay. But you can’t do anything. You can’t vocalise a thing, except for what becomes a choked sob as it leaves your throat.

This is the first time that you cry.

And even though Jesse squeezes you tighter, as if he could possibly put your pieces back together, you fall apart. Once it starts, it doesn’t seem to stop.

There’s an acceptance here. Tears wash away any hint of denial, and you’re left with a reality you can’t help but accept. A reality where Joel Miller is dead, and you will never see him again. The arms around you will never be Joel’s. He’ll never teach you to play a new song on the guitar he was making you. He can’t hear the way you cry, even if you scream and yell and call out for him.

For once, you can’t feel him lingering in the back of your head. As if his absence has removed him from you. It feels like losing him all over again.

You didn’t see Tess’s dead body. Now, you’re glad. If there had been anything left of her to see, anyway. But you had seen bodies before. Mostly of Infected. Or of raiders and hunters who were often shot and killed, sometimes when you were the one shooting. Either way, you’re not used to remembering them as being so… still.

When you close your eyes, forcing the tears to fall, you see him. You see the flashes of skull and soggy brain tissue and smears of blood. And he’s still. You think that you’re so used to seeing Infected people that this just… wasn’t natural.

And to think of that body as Joel? It was even more unnatural.

“C’mon,” Jesse urged once more, voice a murmur in your ear as he tightened his arms around you. “Let’s get you home.” He said, moving to leave.

It was wrong. You didn’t want to leave. It was making you feel all wrong, like there was a constant chill sending shivers down your spine. How could he ask you to leave? How could he ask you to leave when Joel had never come home? Who was going to wash Joel’s mug — the one you had made, that he had stolen — of coffee that he’d left on the side? Who was going to make his bed? Who was going to clean the dirty dishes Joel inevitably would’ve left on his dining table?

Joel wasn’t coming home. So who would do it? How could you leave it like this?

“Kiddo,” Tommy sighed, stepping towards you and taking hold of your hands as Jesse dutifully stepped back, expression creased. He looked tired, more than anything. He looked his age. Tommy blinked, looking up towards the ceiling as if holding back tears, and squeezed your hands in his. “Please, don’t… Go home, okay? I’ll send Maria by. And we’ll—we’ll talk later. Alright?”

It was hard to face the fact that Tommy didn’t want you here. It was incomprehensible. How could you be anywhere else but here? How could he want you anywhere else but here?

How could he expect you to go home? To go back and see that stupid mug you’d almost finished? That Joel would never see? All because you had insisted upon it being a surprise. Insisted that he couldn’t see it until you were done. And now he would never see the mug that matched his own, a slightly better looking owl painted upon its side? The size of it just a smidge smaller than Joel’s own?

He had been complaining that you always had to use the shitty old mug with a football logo on the front. You wanted to surprise him with a mug which matched his own. A sign of your bond. A symbol of your trust, your forgiveness.

Things hadn’t been the same since he left you, all that time ago. Both of you had known it. It was almost tangible, every time you saw one another. But you were getting better. You were seeing him at least once every week, which was improvement from the sporadic visits that’d been occurring last year.

You were all he’d had, after he and Ellie had fallen out.

You, perhaps better than anybody, knew that isolation. You knew how cold it could get. You wonder whether or not he would have even been on that patrol, had you not declined his offer of dinner, in favour of working on the mug.

It was a bitter feeling that bloomed as you pulled away from Tommy. An ugly, rearing feeling that was biting at your throat, and the only thing that stopped you from falling to your knees was Jesse. You wanted to be angry at Joel. You wanted to be able to scream and cry at him, to scold him for leaving you once more, even after he had promised he would never do it again.

And you know it wasn’t his fault. You know that he wouldn’t have chosen this. You do know that. But who else can you blame? Tommy, who is grieving the same as you? Jesse, who had done nothing but support you since you had known him? Ellie, who had no choice but to helplessly witness his death? And there was the girl, of course, Abby, Tommy had said to Jesse. But she seemed… inconceivable. A figment of imagination. After all, Joel was the strongest person you knew. What could have taken that away? Who?

It’s not fair. None of it is fair.

Abby had taken so much from you, and you know from the state of his body, that she hadn’t done it quickly. You feel sick.

Jesse is rubbing your back as you kneel on the snow, the shock of the cold seeping through your trousers bringing you to reality. You hadn’t even noticed leaving Joel’s house.

In the corner of your eye, you can see all of the flowers that people left for Joel. It doesn’t help. These flowers, too, will be cold. They’ll be cold and they will die and then Joel’s porch and garden will be covered in flowers just as dead as he is.

And all of the notes will be left unread, because Joel Miller is dead, and he is not coming home.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

if the door wasn’t shut taglist: @sleepylunarwolf @am-i-shit-or-am-i-the-shit @mandowhatnow @aphrcdites @doodlebob-mp3 @rrickgrrimes8 @nikt-wazny-y @fallenoutofrose @wrathofcats

#heartpascal writes #itdws series #this is A WHAT IF ONE SHOT #therefore this is not a definite ending #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x platonic!f!reader #joel miller x platonic!reader #joel miller father figure #joel miller one shot #joel miller imagine #joel miller angst #tlou x reader #tlou x you #tlou one shot #tlou imagine #tlou part two spoilers #tlou part 2 spoilers #tlou 2 spoilers #tlou two spoilers #the last of us part two spoilers #the last of us 2 spoilers #the last of us spoilers #tlou spoilers #pedro pascal x platonic!reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal ansgt

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Rigor Mortis (prologue)

College roommate Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 1

summary: Relationships end. People die. You move on, and Miguel does too.  (roommate! Miguel O'Hara x reader, college-ish au). 

warnings: no warnings, just angsty asf

a/n: this is the culmination of lots and lots of planning and me writing non-stop for a good few weeks. the next part will be much longer, and updates will be wednesdays until further notice. thank you for all your support! If you'd like to be tagged, see this post.

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys :D

Join my taglists here <3

wc: 1.1k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

rigor mortis,

You're sitting at a diner, the one on 57th. At almost 11pm, it's… quiet. The gentle bustle of a waitress behind the counter, coffee mugs and sizzling pans. To your side, a little old woman tucked into the booth. Bright red lipstick and bold eyeliner against tan skin, wrists heavy with bangles against the counter. It's animated: feather boa, green leather jacket - and you think you spy the padding of some slippers from underneath the table. She clinks and clanks, and it makes you smile in spite of yourself. Peeling walls, cramped booths. Warm. Steady. Pam's Diner, on the corner, but you've got to use the side entrance, 'cuz the front's been bolted shut since the 50s. Don't ask questions.

"Mags, honey… I just want to… can you get your mom for me?" She's squinting into her phone now, nose pressed to the screen. You can only imagine the view from there; a facetime call with a smudge of eyebrow taking up most of the little box. 

It's odd, but you like to sit near the door. Some pancakes, a milkshake, or a bitter cup of coffee now that you're older: people watching, as you've always called it. Okay, maybe it's more than odd . Maybe even serial killer adjacent - people-watching, like the night stalkers in cheesy slashers. But it's fun, looking for a story in everyone that walks in. 

In your hometown, you had your first date in a booth just like this one. Back pressed against once-bright cushions, tight skirt digging into your back, and at 15 you had sat and waited with wide eyes. Waited, and watched. The woman with a blue hair-tie at the counter: a new mom, definitely. She looks tired, a mystery stain on the cotton of her joggers and deep rims around her eyes. A jitter in her hands, and she's probably got a piece of shit boyfriend on the couch; wringing his hands at looking after the little one, at being a fucking dad, for once, and… oh. The bell of the front entrance rings, and another woman walks in, and catches the eye of Blue Hair Tie. A warm smile, a tight arm around her waist. You watch as she takes up the other's jittery hand in her own. Partner? Fling? You know now; it doesn't matter, not really. Hands still, the shaking slows, and they are loved. 

Your date had been late, of course. But  what had been your first in a line of disappointing men is long forgotten in the haze of adulthood. 

"I know, sweetheart-" the older woman in the booth next to you almost shouts, making you jump. "...those are very pretty shoes… but, could you… Hand the phone over to mom, okay?“

Someone answers with cooing and soft babbling, and then there's raspy laughter from the woman near you. It rings off the tiles: sonorous and full-bodied, wraps around you like a warm hug. It makes you feel a little less lonely, for now. 

As of exactly 9.42pm, you are single. A four year relationship, over in the space of less than 20 minutes. A cup of watery decaf, and it's all over before you can finish it. I'll stay at my sister's, and you move out by the end of the month. No theatrics, not a trace of tears. You had wanted to cry, to kick and scream and beg, but more than anything, you were numb. Crystalline and still with shock, at how clinical it all felt. Sitting in your favourite diner, the humdrum of the city just past the glass; it still felt… lonely. And when he left; placed money on the counter, took his copy of keys off the table, and didn't look back ; it was cold. 

You remember what he had said so many nights ago, God, years back, when he was studying for undergrad, and would crack open anatomy textbooks on the little desk in your dorm. He'd trace the lines of your arm, poke the flesh as you'd giggle and recite his notes into your skin. 

that… tickles! what are y-you… ohh my God-

Stay still! This is.. important… 

… I swear, I'll start screaming if you-

Pallidity, cooling, stiffness-

that's it, I'm screaming… I'm gonna do it-

It's not gonna learn itself, baby. Pallor, algor… 

and rigor, right? 

… 

I listen. Sometimes. 

…rigor, livor mortis and decay. The stages of death. 

I thought you wanted to be a surgeon, baby, not the grim reaper. 

Very funny. It's still important to know about these things, no? 

I guess? But if you're gonna be saving lives…

That's not how it works. I'm not God. I make mistakes, people die. I do everything right-

People die. 

Right. Above all, I'm in the business of people. Whilst they're alive and when they're gone, what they leave behind…

…but that's not really your job, is it? And don't give me all that, it's a vocation crap-

I don't know what to tell you. It is. It's bigger than me. 

…it's long and hard and killing you slowly. 

…

Shit. Jamie, I didn't mean to-

Rigor mortis. Post-mortem 'stiffness' or rigidity, which occurs one to two hours after death.

I'm sorry, I wasn't th- 

The summation of unraveling: a temporary stasis, which could be described as 'frozen' in time or place, often mirroring the cause of death- 

Jesus, I'm not trying to fight- 

..where a body becomes a dead body. Colloquially, referred to as Alius Mortem, or; another death. 

The phrase stuck, acting as a cruel count for the eventual decay of your relationship. Resentment, on both ends, had burned out that flame long before the breakup. Jamie was cruel, in some ways. You were cruel in others. 

"Alice! Just wanted to say hi, cupcake; missed your voice… oh yeah… mhmm… she's just like you, can talk for the trees…" With the rasp of laughter in the booth next to you, it spreads the kind of warmth that stings. 

There's a spark of self awareness at the back of your throat; the bitter taste of realisation. It's not meant to feel like this, is it? The end of almost a half-decade of your life, an era, the culmination of decisions good and bad and gray that have led you up to this moment. There should be… passion. Fighting, maybe. Tears. Instead of a supernova, you find yourself floating in the empty vacuum of space: an acrid taste left in your mouth. 

"Oh God, have you and the girls been eating well? Let me come over tomorrow, drop you off some stuff…I don't trust half the crap in that cupboard of yours-" There is love and light in her voice, despite groans from the tinny speakers of her phone. Your chest is hot; something leaden and heavy that sits in the crook of ribcage. Bittersweet, like rotting fruit in the cradle of a tree trunk. 

Maybe it's the coffee. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be. Over the past few years, a thousand cuts. And now, in the yellow lights of the little diner on the corner of 57th; another death. 

_

_

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Rigor Mortis Taglist: @bunnyrose01 @lavenderslemonade @tsukkie-daisuke @malxoxo @thekidscallmebosss @vvitcxen @theyoutubedork @doublevirgogirl @jnghs @taleiak @noblesavagex @cumikering @rebeccawinters @evanpetersrightbigtoe @saucypeanuttt @pix-stuff @maliarenee @truthuntolddd @honeycovered-bandaids @aiyaaayei @aeeliy @amplsblog @sikrettt @opuffmango @spear-bitch @maddielikesmoths @lemonpepsi @sweet-strawberryhoney @lacedinweb22 @bubbsby @jing5uan @ellaandorersoct @hibarbiesblog @valentxi @kittym1ka @delulu-dia @melovetitties @yohoe-hoe @acollectionofcells1 @froggi-mushroom @thund3rthighs

@bonthebunnie @natthernandez @strawberrymiguel @twwcs @mammonispunk @um-well @renn-pumkin-head @ietherealkistar @smallishbook @sonderspider @spear-bitch @cryingintheclubdhmu @mageneire @notdyl4n @slezhara @funkyfoxx0 @smol-beb @iceclaw101 @lixhizy @errorundyne-exe @707xn @beantokki@twentysomethingwereyote

@teacoffeeflavored @chuuyara@qiapia@rotten-zombi3@bonbyon @tianyhi @noelsilly @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @peachsteven @thesquidni@fatenpara @verr-uckt @kurakasabe @kamiko32 @mushy-mushroom04@izzys-hawttea@theandromedastar @wicked-futures @truthuntolddd @prettygirlpattinson @hellokittylover202 @angel-eyes05 @lacedinweb22 @starguiders @buggiecrawls @eugeab @tarjapearce @whoreloll @path0logicalpeoplepleaser @ancientbeing10 @shartythefarty@royalhearts

#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #angst #eventual smut #kat_writes😼