#[sorry for the white flash in the first one... don't know what it is]

[knightjpg]

Brick by Brick

And like a dog who's learned a new trick Simon rings your bell the next day. Wasn't happy with how he left it, and wasn't that faucet leaking? He's got plenty of spare wood in his shed, don't you worry. What's that about the boiler making a weird noise? He'll take a look at it, might have something for the draft in the hallway too. Pay him? What are you talking about, he does stuff like this for fun. Don't sweat it, love. Just hand him that wrench.

tags: construction worker simon/neighbour reader

part 1 | part 2

Summer is the worst time of year for construction work outside. Up early before the birds are awake to try and beat the heat, arriving on site at six or earlier with bleary eyes and creaky joints from the day before. It means coming home at four or five with lots of day left to get through yet without the will or energy to do anything beside shower, eat, watch some telly, and sleep. 

The pay is good and it beats sitting in a cramped office all day, but when Simon gets home with aching knees and the thrum of a headache at the back of his skull it's hard to remember why on Earth he chose the career he's in. He's drenched in sweat, large dark patches adorning his pits and back. 

It's one of those days where very little can make him stray from his commute straight to home to collapse into his big falling-apart chair, but today it's not really up to him. A large moving truck blocks his driveway. The faded company logo against dirty white overtakes the entire view of his windshield, though Simon can see the back doors are still swung open. No one to attend to it, though. 

Simon noticed the FOR SALE! sign had gone, of course. Remembers feeling vaguely pleased, even, that the home next to his wouldn't be empty anymore, because he of all people knows exactly how quickly places can fall apart without anyone tending to it. But right now all he feels is tired, and hot, and really fucking annoyed. Just when he's clicked his belt loose to get out of the car and see if the dolt belonging to the truck is anywhere to be found, voices carry from the open front door. 

“...last. I'm afraid it's a little heavy, though, so maybe we should get the boxes out first?” 

And out steps the sweetest little thing he's ever seen. Hair tied up, tight little top, and shorts that give him ample view of your legs.  

Maybe summer's not so bad after all. 

You're talking to a bloke wearing a uniform that matches the moving truck and who looks flushed in the face from exertion. As soon as you clock Simon's car, though, you stop mid-sentence in surprise, and then quickly walk to him, brows furrowed apologetically. 

“Oh, I'm so sorry—you're trying to get past us, aren't you?” Simon gives you a nod, and you turn back to the mover. “Would you mind moving the truck up a little? I don't want it to be in the way.” 

There's precious little parking space ahead, so Simon rolls down his window and calls out to you, “Jus’ backing up a few yards s’fine.” He gestures to his driveway so you know that's where he's headed, and you flash him a smile and a thumbs-up in understanding. 

The truck is moved, Simon parks his car, and you pull another heavy-looking box from the cube. You never reach your new doorstep with it; Simon steps in and lifts it from your hands. You blink up at him, lashes fluttering sweetly with surprise. “Oh—are you sure? It's heavy...!” 

One corner of Simon's mouth tugs up. Tired as he is it weighs next to nothing, and he can't resist holding it with one arm, holding out the other. 

“Can take ‘nother if you need.” 

You laugh and assure him this is quite enough, then jog back to the truck while Simon pushes past the half-open door to his new neighbour's home. 

It's a mess, of course. Piles of boxes, scattered furniture, rolled-up carpets. Simon puts the box down in the living room, then saunters back outside to lift another from your hands. He does the same with the couch; the mover is struggling and Simon doesn't trust him not to let it fall and crash. And you're such a little thing. Just doesn't feel right, watching you rush around and struggle without stepping in. 

With Simon's help it's quick work. The mover thanks Simon before driving off, but he's not really listening. There's much more important things to pay attention to. 

You're pretty. Cheeks flushed from exertion, breathing hard, flyaway hairs from your ponytail sticking up in odd directions. Simon has to suppress the urge to smooth them away. 

"Thanks so much for the help,” you tell him earnestly. “I'm sorry we were in the way—we thought we'd have a little more time before people started coming home from work.” 

“S’alright,” Simon says. It's nearing evening, now, the sky above you glowing in pale pink and oranges hues. The little smatter of trees across from you rustles with a gust of summer wind.  

You introduce yourself and insist on giving Simon your number “in case there's ever anything you need.” Simon's more concerned about a young woman living all on her own but takes your number all the same, watching your pretty little fingers tap it in on his phone. 

“I mostly work from home, but I'm very quiet and boring,” you tell him with a smile. “You don't have to worry about noise.” 

For some reason that isn't the selling point it should be. When Simon stands inside his hallway, house empty and dark and quiet, he wishes he still lived in a shitty apartment with thin walls on the bad side of Manchester. Maybe then he'd hear your footsteps, or better yet, your voice. Instead the only thing waiting for him at home is silence. Heavy and thick, where he's ripped away from sweet sunshine and plunged underwater. 

-

Simon is halfway to falling asleep on the couch when the bell rings. He groans, drags a hand over his face, and glances up at the TV. The football match is still going. The camera pans over a cheering crowd, their cries distant and quiet. 

He mutes the thing entirely and heaves himself up to open the door. Swear to God, if this is the fucking salesman again... 

“Hi there.” 

You give Simon a little finger wave, your other hand cradling a round oven dish. When you shift on your feet the protective foil on top rustles noisily. 

You look a little more put together than you did yesterday—rested, showered, fed. Just as pretty. 

Although, speaking of fed... 

“Alright?” Simon asks, eyes on the oven pan. He's only catching a faint whiff of something, but whatever it is smells really fucking good. His stomach reminds him that the only thing in his fridge are a couple cans of beer.  

You nod and lift the dish with a shy little grin. “Yeah. Um. I wanted to say thanks again, for yesterday. And I wanted to test out my oven, so...” 

You hold the dish out for him to take. Simon's fingers brush yours, large meaty paws easily twice the size of your own. When he peels back the foil you add, “Shepherd's pie. I thought about cookies, but I wasn't sure if you'd like those.” 

The scent hits him, then, rich and hearty and buttery smooth. The dish is still a little warm. 

Fuck. When was the last time he ate something homemade? 

“No, I'll eat anything,” he says, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. He hasn't showered yet. Must look a nightmare. Does he stink? “Thanks.” 

Your whole face lights up, and Simon's neck feels hot. He averts his eyes to avoid your gaze and pretends to inspect the pie instead. Jesus, what is he, twelve? “I'm glad. I'll leave you to it, then.” 

D’you want to come in for a drink?  

It's on the tip of his tongue, but he can't get the words out quite right and gives you a brusque nod, watching you walk back to your own home before closing his door all the way. 

He eats at his kitchen table and finishes the whole thing in one go. Chases bits of flakey crust with his finger, licks up every leftover crumb. The meat is tender and juicy and for a while after the only things he smells is golden-brown potatoes seasoned with rosemary. 

He mourns it when it's gone, of course. Has half a mind to go over right now and ask if your cooking is for hire—Simon can't remember the last time he felt satisfied. When he ate not just for the sake of fuel or convenience but because someone wanted him to have something nice, something special. Is it special? Is he special? Are you going around the neighbourhood handing out cookies and pies to just anyone? 

Simon's sigh is loud in the silence and sticks to the kitchen walls. 

The pre-made frozen meals are fine, of course. Empty plastic containers fill up the rubbish bin. They're easy and cheap and most days Simon's glad just to have something warm in his stomach.  

And yet. 

The next day Simon stands at your door at six in the evening sharp, holding the clean dish in his hands. You invite him in for a cup of tea, because unlike him you have good manners, and you sheepishly apologise for the stacks of boxes everywhere. 

“S’alright,” Simon says, carefully manoeuvring around a large pile of books. “I don't mind.” 

And he doesn't, though he does feel like a bull in a china shop. Large and much too coarse for the little tea cup you hand him while the kettle whistles on the stove. 

“I'm afraid I don't have much to go with it,” you say with a flutter of your hands. “Do you like ginger snaps? I think I've got a pack somewhere.” 

You don't wait for his answer and pry open one of the cupboards. First come the ginger snaps, then the box of Earl Grey, which you hold up to him with a triumphant smile. “Unpacked the important stuff first.” 

Simon frowns and jerks his chin to the cupboard. “S’it stuck?” 

“Oh—yeah. They all are.” You give the wood a little knock. “It'll take me some time to get to fixing everything. The house went for a good price, but only ‘cause it needs some love.” You give him a rueful smile and get up, wiping your hands on your thighs. “I'm not all that handy, so I'll have to take it bit by bit.” 

Simon rises before you finish your sentence. "Let me see.” 

“Oh, no, it's okay. It's not a big deal, really—” 

Simon crouches down, slowly, to spare his knees, and tests the hinges. The wood is rotten in certain places, the hinges old and rusted. Rather than fixing it up it should be replaced entirely. You really better had gotten this place for good money, because this will take more than a bit of elbow grease to repair. He prods at the hinges, tuts, and looks up at you. 

“Ready to fall apart, this one. You said they're all like this?” 

You nod, worry creasing your brow. “I—yes. Well, the kitchen is. The bathroom seems alright. Is it worse than I thought?” 

“Might be. You have anyone look at this?” 

You shake your head. “I'm starting to feel silly about it now, but I was going to look up how to do it myself.” 

Simon straightens. “I'll go get my kit.” 

-

It's not as bad as he feared. Two cabinets need tearing down completely, but the others are worth saving. Simon warns you the repair job will fuck the wood, but you tell him it's no problem; you'll paint over it anyway. 

You feed him tea and ginger snaps while he works, asking him several times if he wouldn't like a break, hasn't he done a lot already? You feel terrible about having him work on his day off. Didn't he say he worked construction? He must be so tired, poor man. You insist he stay for dinner. “You've been so helpful—it's the least I could do.” 

Simon takes a breather to watch you cook. Chicken, pasta, summer salad. The sun sinks lower and hits you straight on from the kitchen window, painting the edges of you a dazed red-gold. An angel's halo. 

“You big on reading, then?” 

You turn down the heat and put a lid over the pan to join him at the table. Simon's eyeing the many books strewn about on top of boxes that say “pans” and “kitchen supplies”. Le Morte D’Arthur. Histories of the Kings of Britain. Beowulf. There's even one that prompts a vague, long-forgotten memory from his school days— The Canterbury Tales.  

“I am. Always have been.” You nod to the books. “I teach at university—medieval literature. But I'm working on my own research on the side.” 

Simon lets out a low whistle. His pretty bird is a clever one. Smarter than him, that's for sure. He might be big and strong but he's got bricks for brains. 

That's what his dad always used to say, anyway—that he's stupid. Those always were his kinder moments. 

“That explains all the books y’got.” 

“There sure are a lot of them, aren't there? I swear moving really makes you realise just how much stuff you own...” You shake your head. “I'll have to get a bigger bookcase.” 

“Think it's impressive.” 

Your eyes crinkle with a smile. “Not as impressive as knowing how to fix my cabinets! I don't know how I would've managed by myself.” You hop up from your seat to check the food, then ask over your shoulder, “Is that something you do a lot for work, too? Carpentry and the like?” 

Simon shakes his head. “We do the heavy lifting. Clearing a place out, laying the foundation. Johnny—my coworker, he's mostly on machinery. Kyle does transport and plumbing. I do the heavier handiwork.” 

You hum and start plating the food while asking him more questions. Is the pay good? Is his boss fair? Are his coworkers nice? 

Price's fairly strict is what he is, Simon answers, and you laugh again. He likes that. Likes that he gets you to do that. 

He wolfs down a plate of his pasta and devours the chicken. It's fragrant, roasted with lemon and thyme, bursts between his teeth. He tells you more about Johnny, that he's a cocky bastard who likes playing with electricity way too much, but that he's also a loyal friend. That he's a hard worker—that all of them are. 

When his plate is empty and he's eyeing what's left in the pans you push them closer without saying anything, and prompt him to tell you about that time a plumbing line exploded and Kyle got soaked from tip to toe in disgusting gunk. He smelt like sewage water for weeks. 

Simon doesn't even realise how much he's talked until his throat starts feeling rougher than usual. You make it easy somehow. If he'd thought you would look down on him because of your own job he needn't have worried. You're not at all like what he imagines when he thinks of professors, none of the stuffy superiority complex he's used to weathering when people find out all he does all day is chafe his fingers on hard cement.  

Maybe you're just good at faking it, but he doubts it. The sparkle in your eyes when you listen to him so intently has to be real. 

You send him home with a warm thanks and dessert, and Simon feels something in his chest lurch when you peer up at him through your lashes in the doorway, smiling and sweet. Can't remember the last time he went out for dates. Can't remember having the time or energy for it. 

And like a dog who's learned a new trick Simon rings your bell the next day. Wasn't happy with how he left it, and wasn't that faucet leaking? He's got plenty of spare wood in his shed, don't you worry. What's that about the boiler making a weird noise? He'll take a look at it, might have something for the draft in the hallway too. 

Pay him? What are you talking about, he does stuff like this for fun. Don't sweat it, love. Just hand him that wrench. 

There are days when it's hard, of course. Simon is only human, and spending days and days on sizzling hard concrete would wring anyone dry. The project is coming along nicely, but at the height of summer there's plenty of times when even the promise of your smile isn't enough to keep him from falling asleep on his couch—often on an empty stomach. 

But during the weekends he rings your bell dutifully. Six o’clock becomes something sacred in his mind, sweet relief after praying on his knees for hours smoothing out cement. It gets to the point where he turns down Friday drinks with the guys more than once because he's got something to go home for now, his pretty little bird that's never once mentioned a boyfriend of any kind. 

“You really should let me pay you.” 

Simon gives you a look before pushing his large shoulders further into the cabinet under the bathroom sink. “Should be the one payin’ you. I know I'm doubling your grocery bill.” 

He eats more at your place than his own these days. It gives him incentive to rush through a shower, dress like something resembling a human, then wait at your doorstep to be let in. Wagging tail and everything. 

Your cheeks darken and you duck your head. “No, um... It makes me happy. To see you eat my cooking, I mean,” you confess a little shyly. “I feel like I'm the one getting everything out of this. I hope I'm not keeping you from—from spending time at home, or with your family.” 

“S’just me, love.” Simon pauses, pretends to inspect the pipes. “Less you don't want me coming ‘round anymore.” 

“No, no,” you say hastily. “No, I like—I like the company. Really.” Your voice softens. “And I'm not just saying that because I appreciate the help.” 

Simon exhales, shifts a little to accommodate the strain in his boxers, and holds his hand out for the screwdriver. 

[chlorinecake]

Thoughts on stalker x stalker??

— 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 | 𝐬.𝐣𝐲

▹ PAIRING: stalker ex bf ! jake x stalker ex gf ! reader

▹ SUMMARY: You and Jake, exes torn apart, developed a mutual obsession with each other overtime, the lingering romance coming to light with a simple flash of his camera…

▹ WARNINGS: BIG DICK JAKE who records a lil sextape of him fingering you because he's a helpless titty fixated perv, unprotected sex (cowgirl), some crying, a brief handjob and fingering session, kinda angsty

▹ WORD COUNT: 3.5k

“Do you really see better with those glasses on?”

Jake's chocolate brown eyes peeked at you through his specs, a gentle hum rumbling from his throat before answering.

“No. I mostly wear them for the art student aesthetic I’m going for… now don't smile, pretty.”

Snap.

You let the small smile on your face relax at his instructions. “And the other reason?” You pressed, watching as he angled the lens a little higher over you this time.

“Hm, dunno... maybe because cute girls always ask about them?”

You hated it whenever he talked about other girls—

Snap.

Another click of his camera sounded throughout the quiet studio, it’s white flashes lighting up the dim room.

“So you like the attention then?” You teased, watching as his facial expression remained nonchalant.

Focused.

“Your attention? Yes,” he admitted, narrowing his eyes behind the camera. “Might be one of my favorite things, actually…”

Snap.

Good answer Jakey, you thought to yourself, trying your best to keep a neutral facial expression before him.

“One of your favorites just like old cameras, apparently...” you went on… “How come you never use the new one I bought you for your birthday last year?”

“Because,” Jake answered while lining his eyes up with the camera lens, “this one is much easier for me to carry around... I like that it’s portable...”

Why would he need a camera on the go, you asked yourself silently… even though, the reality was that Jake had actually dropped the other camera while following you one night—

Snap.

“Jeez, how many more shots do you need, Peter Parker?”

“You'll know when I'm finished,” the dark eyed boy replied with a foreign rasp to his tone, index finger gently squeezing into the camera button as he continued. “Now stick your tongue out for me.”

“I'm sorry?”

Snap.

His unusual sentence really caught you off guard this time, a feeling of chills washing over you as he took his lower lip into his teeth.

“Beautiful,” he said almost breathlessly, “just try following my directions next time though, yeah?”

“Jake, I need a break...” You sighed, changing your position on the couch as his vision remained glued behind the camera.

“In a minute, ____…”

Snap.

He used your first name on purpose because you used his, and he knew you were the type of girl who didn’t like that very much.

“I said that’s enough, alright?”

You slightly raised your voice at him, his demeanor remaining just as calm as before once a prolonged sigh escaped his throat.

“I suppose five minutes of wasted time wouldn’t hurt,” he said sarcastically, placing his red camera on the stool beside him before extending a hand, helping you off the couch.

“Thanks,” you replied half-heartedly, grabbing the large white sheet from the couch arm and wrapping it around your naked body.

“I could never get tired of this honestly,” Jake confessed, watching you intently as you poured yourself a cup of water from the nearby cooler.

“Tired of what?” You asked in between your first sip, his eyes being all over you except your face as you spoke.

“Looking at you,” was all he said for you to roll your eyes at his words, making him chuckle at your reaction.

“I’m serious, y’know that?”

“Mhm… I can tell,” you smirked with a nod, taking the last sip of your water before making your way back over to plop on the couch. “How about you go over your pictures… you’ll never know if we caught the perfect one already if you don’t check…”

He didn’t verbally respond to your suggestion, only nodding in agreement as he reached for the camera, clicking through its film.

To no one’s surprise, Jake, who doubled as your pervy ex-boyfriend and personal neighborhood stalker, felt himself getting hot all over again just from looking at the pictures of you displayed on the grainy screen.

Today's excuse to photograph you? He needed a nude model for his chiaroscuro themed visual project at the fancy art university he attended.

You knew Jake would’ve a hard time finding any other female (or male) to willingly get naked for him, so you obliged… under the small condition that he wouldn’t try to fuck you afterwards.

Simply put, your infatuation with him always made it easier to agree to whatever stupid favors he needed you to do—

“God,” he groaned under his breath, taking a seat as an attempt to hide the boner slowly growing behind his pants.

“Damn, are they really that bad?” You asked with worried brows, misinterpreting his reaction.

“N-no, not at all,” he corrected, eyes still glued to the camera screen.

“Oh... well… okay then,” you sighed with relief, or maybe it was a yawn?

The studio AC was set to such a low temperature that you couldn't help but feel a little sleepy... especially with how mundane this whole model process was getting to be.

“Can I see the pictures?” You asked, making Jake's eyes widen slightly at your request. He knew it'd be suspicious to say no so he instead gave in, reluctantly handing you the camera.

Clicking the left arrow on the circular directional button, the gallery scrolled, picture after picture, with each slide shocking you with how good they came out.

“Lovely, aren't you?” Jake nearly whispered from behind you as he leaned over the couch, his hands pulling your hair out of the tussled bun he previously styled it in for the first part of the photoshoot.

For the next series of shots, he planned to go for a more natural look, taking your hair down to let it hang as the scent of your shampoo ignited him all over again.

Jake couldn’t stop himself from grinding his hard-on against the back of the couch, eager for any sort of friction that would ease the tension building up inside him.

You felt the teeth of the comb meet your scalp as he continued to comb, the simple act somehow making it even harder for him to control himself.

“You're really talented at this,” you said, just before your eyes glazed over the series of pictures following the one's he'd just taken of you.

Some were from recent trips you took to the supermarket, events you don't fully remember, and even a few scandalous shots of you through your apartment window, changing out of your work clothes—

“Thanks, but I prefer giving credit to the actual person I'm shooting,” he added, looking over your shoulder as you turned the camera off, just before he got a chance to see what you were looking at.

Though, from the almost immediate shift in the studio's aura, Jake had developed a pretty good inkling in his chest as to what you might've seen.

Your throat tensed up, chest expanding slightly with each exhale as a smile grew on Jake's face.

“Just let me know if I'm being too rough, alright?” He started, sectioning out your bangs as his hand slid around your neck, gently cradling your chin upward.

“Jake,” you choked out weakly, a shaky moan slipping past your lips as the comb got caught in a particular knot in your hair, “t-take your time, please...”

You stuttered, hoping in your heart that he wouldn't make a big deal about it.

In truth, you often watched Jake from afar yourself, not being able to get over your obsession with him, even months after you two first broke up…

Your eyes had a way of chasing stolen moments—the curve of his lips as he sipped coffee on his way to class, or the way his personal style slowly changed from denim coats and Timberland's to leather jackets and black boots.

You saw it all, seeking after it as often as you could… using it as a means to coax your own lonely desire for him.

Still, you couldn't quite shake how strange it was to see his gallery filled with images of you from every angle and emotion, even though it eventually delighted you to know that he wasn't as interested in other people as he let on—

“I'm in no rush, ____,” he said plainly, trying to redirect the energy in the room, “just relax for me... I'm not trying to hurt you...”

He chose his words wisely, releasing his hold from around your neck before making his way over to the wall where he dimmed the lights even more.

“I know, Jake,” you nearly whispered, wind flowing from the slightly opened windows as your voice flew with its gust…

“But how long have you been watching me?”

His wrists froze at your question, a mix of relief, guilt, and fear rising within every part of his body.

You turned your gaze towards him, eyes locking to reveal a mirror reflecting your similarly twisted desires, the tension screaming with ambivalence…

“Since we broke up...” He confessed, eerily loud footsteps sending shivers down your spine as he paced against the wooden floor, walking towards you, “does that bother you, love?”

You stammered at first, gentle grasp clinging to the white sheet around you. “It doesn't, Jake... not at all,” you finally mustered, watching as he licked his lips because God, he was such an anxious perv for you...

The way you looked before him in this moment, both fear and recognition present in your features as your body remained still as stone, every natural highlight of your skin looking even more gorgeous beneath the dim lights.

This entire moment was all too much for him… You were too much for him…

Slowly creeping towards you, his intense energy did nothing but make your arms sprout with tiny bumps all over.

“Good,” was all he said at first, trying to digest your body language while freeing himself from his jacket, “but I'm guessing there's something you might wanna come clean about, too, hm?”

“I… yes,” you admitted, somehow regaining your initial confidence, “since you wanna hear me say it so badly... I haven't exactly been able to get over you, either...”

He smirked at your honesty, “How bad has it gotten? The withdrawal, I mean... d'you ever think about me when you touch yourself?”

“Cute, but no...,” you scoffed, “I prefer hands-free fantasizing instead... less mess for me to clean up alone,” you smiled teasingly, tracing the arch of his jawline with your index finger.

It almost felt foreign when you did that just then...

You hadn't touched him like that in months... and even though the act was ordinary, it made you feel something intense—

“I need to take a few more shots of you like this,” he said randomly, reaching for his camera but not sitting on the opposite couch this time.

He stayed right in front of you, joining you on the couch and slightly caging you beneath his frame.

“Trying a new angle I see... these gonna be for your project or—”

“I'm gonna keep these for myself,” he interrupted, snaking his free hand beneath the sheet and lightly caressing the flesh of your thigh before kneading it, dangerously close to your core. “Just make sure you follow my instructions like I asked...”

You nodded at his words, letting your lower body relax as he gently guided your legs open, the sheet falling from over you boobs and exposing them to the air as he grazed your pussy lips with his fingers.

Jake nearly drooled at the sight of your hard nipples, clicking with his tongue to make you look back at the camera. “Start by squeezing your tits together for me,” he started in a low voice, “wanna see how well they’d suffocate my dick…”

The poor guy was still very much hard right now, and it didn't help him one bit with how wet you felt against his fingers, his skilled touch circling your clit as a feathery moan left your lips.

“C’mon pretty, do as I say…” Jake cooed, pointing the camera to you as you did just that, arching your back over the sofa arm while squeezing your tits together, his fingers quickening against your sensitive bud as he kept recording.

You're not sure what came over you just then, but you were starting to feel more than willing to do whatever Jake asked of you, especially when his fingers worked on teasing your initial tightness.

His digits curved against your g-spot, the pressure he applied only escalating as his stiff cock started leaking in his pants.

This entire moment felt strangely nostalgic, reminding you of the many times Jake would stand over while making you cream with just his fingers—

“Tell me when you're close, baby… beg for me to let you come,” he huffed, voice sounding somewhat labored as he intently watched your chest heave up and down, biting his lower lip to stop himself from kissing you.

Because as badly as he wanted to taste you, he had to capture your bliss on camera first, for the nights that memories become too vague... for the nights when fantasies don't compare to the real deal...

Your whole body was a mix of hot and cold, given the temperature of the room and the sexual energy meddling between your excited bodies.

“J-Jake…” you stuttered with a whine, clinging to the couch as your face flushed a ruddy hue, walls desperately clenching around his fingers, “please...l-let me come for you…”

The poor boy didn't know what to do with himself given how wet you were, his puppy-dog eyes looking almost in awe now that the realization had hit him:

He finally got you where he wanted you… and from your perspective, the likewise…

“You can let go now baby,” is all Jake manages to say before you're coming undone, the knot in you abdomen unraveling throughout every limb of your body as pure pleasure coursed through your starved out veins.

Jake kept the camera on your body the entire time, too, his digits only slowing down slightly to help you ride out your high.

He hadn't even fully slipped from your hole yet before a feeling of emptiness washed over you, lust-ridden eyes following Jake’s every move as his veiny hand retreated from your core.

He caught on to it, too... the way your eyes panned in on him like your own built in set of camera lenses... capturing every movement to store in your favorite mental file.

“Fuck,” Jake groaned around his own fingers suddenly, tasting the milky slick he gathered from your hole, “been missing the taste of you so bad, angel...”

“Then kiss me,” you whispered heavily, a clear sheen of Jake's saliva mixed with your sweet release painting the cupid's bow of his pouty lips.

He didn't hesitate to take heed to your words either, setting the camera down with haste before hovering back over you on the couch, not even guiding your face as he kissed your lips, humming into the contact.

The feeling of Jake's sloppy textured tongue against yours sent shivers down your spine, his hot breath doing nothing but heat up the warmth already present between your legs.

His heart pounded against his ribs as the kiss continued, his glasses eventually fogging up from how intense the contact was, compelling you to push him away for a seconds to remove his glasses, your own heart fluttering at his flushed demeanor.

“I need to touch you... r-right now,” you choked out breathlessly, not even bothering to cover your naked body now that the sheet was slipping to the floor.

It was a bit awkward at first, you'll admit, being completely naked while Jake was fully clothed. You grew tired of undressing him with your eyes and knew you had to do something about the issue throbbing behind his pants.

Before Jake could even respond, you were already pushing him back against the other side of the couch, his head plopping on the sofa arm with a gentle thud, fluffy brown locks framing his face.

The shadow of a smirk meddled over his handsome features as you eagerly yet patiently worked on unzipping his pants, the thick mound from his clothed hardness making your head spin.

There was really no point in taking things slow with him in this moment because its not like you two haven't already fucked each other before... only difference now was that it had been a while, so the nerves had built up—

“It's so red,” you remarked with a whisper, just having shimmed Jake's pants down enough for you to get his cock out, “does it hurt?”

“I'll let you know once you start touching it,” he let out with a relaxed breath, eyes once again focusing on the way you sat before him with your tits out on full display.

You took his comment as some sort of green light, gently taking his length in your grasp and pumping it in long, drawn out strokes.

His thighs were already trembling, hips grinding up into your first to gain a bit more friction.

“Fuck, stop teasing, ____,” he groaned with half-lidded eyes, wrapping his hand around yours to manually control the pace.

You let out a laugh at his neediness, swatting his hand away so you could take over again, “This is all apart of the foreplay, Jake... you know I'll be riding your cock properly before the night's out, anyways...”

Deep down, you were having just a little too much fun toying around with Jake right now, but given the sexually frustrated furrow of his eyebrows, you decided to be nice and just let him have you already.

Still pumping his shaft in your hand, you sat up on your knees to straddle him, lining up his tip with your entrance before letting your weight sink onto him, struggling to adjust to his size given how long its been since you took him.

A quiet curse fell from Jake's lips as he watched you wiggle past his mushroom tip, his veiny hands reaching forward to help you completely reach his pelvis.

You let out a shaky whimper at the sudden feeling of fullness, covering your mouth with the back of your hand to stop yourself from making any more pained sounds.

“There you go, pretty... nice and easy...” Jake cooed while still gripping the flesh of your hips, mostly because if he didn't, he would've started thrusting into you, “do you wanna stop?”

“N-no,” you practically blurted out, thighs still feeling tense despite how badly you wanted this with him, “I want you to make me cum again, Jakey... I can take it...”

Your words were like magic to his ears, his strong hand guiding your body against his as he left a tender kiss to your cheek before holding you in place, his dick moving in and out of you at a steady pace that escalated in a matter of seconds.

To be honest, you were shocked by Jake's adrenaline, your body already shaking beneath his arms as he held onto you tighter, grunting with each time your desperate walls clenched around him.

His balls bounced to the rhythm of his powerful thrusts, the sound of skin slapping against skin making you shut your eyes tightly in pleasure, whining frantically at the mix of sensations.

Your eyes started to sprout with tears, damping Jake's shoulder as he fucked against your g-spot, making it nearly impossible for you to hold in your delighted screams.

Pouring out a string of whiny moans, your body subconsciously moved with his hips, Jake catching on to your reactions rather quickly as he whispered a sultry “You like that, baby?” against your neck, your head nodding lazily as you looked into each other's eyes, right before your lips crashed into his. 

“I missed this so fucking badly, Jake... 'missed being this close to you,” you let out weakly, one of his thumbs going to wipe the tear of moisture sliding down your face as he kept rutting into you.

“I know, angel,” he panted, kissing you on the center of your lips before pulling back, his tip reaching the furthest its ever been inside your pussy as you rocked your hips against his, wobbly pleas of pleasure slipping past both your lips before you felt yourselves reach your peaks.

“Aww, f-f... shit,” you whined, Jake's hips still pivoting against you despite how strong the orgasm was, your thighs trembling as you felt your walls tighten around him.

“That's it, baby,” Jake cooed through heavy breaths, reeling out more of your pretty moans as he rode out your high for the last time, holding you close to him, “let it all out, angel...”

You let your legs relax, just as Jake sat himself up straight, delicate lips kissing along your jawline as he whispered against your skin, “Now you belong to me again…”

And there it was, two twisted souls basking in the very web of obsession the sewed together, a lost love blossoming yet again from a matter of stolen glances and a series of clandestine photographs bringing you back together again.

You internally yawned at the feeling of Jake's lips against you, his possessive words only making your heart sing as you reached down for the sheet, draping it over both your spent bodies...

“I've always been yours, Jake,” you smiled sincerely, ruffling the hair atop his head before falling back into his embrace, letting yourselves snuggle into the plush cushion of the couch, “even when you left me first...”

▹ Author's Note: This story is a work of fiction and does not intend to romanticize the harmfully obsessive behaviors described between the two characters. Real-life stalking is not okay my guys, so please, don’t be a sasaeng and instead seek healthy relationships !

▹ Perm Taglist ( 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 ) : @squoxle @wonbinisbabygurl @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @addictedtohobi @ot7sevenlvr

[shaisuki]

DADDY'S HOME

FT. GOJO SATORU, NANAMI KENTO, TOJI FUSHIGURO, GETO SUGURU

content warnings: yandere themes, past mentions of abuse, noncon, baby trapping, dubcon, manipulation, stalking, forced pregnancy, stockholm syndrome, ooc characters, crying, redemption arc?, murder, abuse, rushed writing. dead dove do not eat.

notes. my first post in april. been struggling for awhile and having writer's block plus having the new addition of two chunky puppies that looks like potatoes with legs. requests are slowly being worked on and i deeply apologize for the delay. thank you!

synopsis: long they searched for you and only to find out you have a child. their child. would they be still the same person who had hurt you or a changed man for the sake of your child?

GOJO SATORU

“where's your mom, little guy?”

there is no doubt about it. the child in front of him is his. it is like looking at the younger version of himself except for the hair, dyed black to conceal the snow-white hair identical to him. how fast can he come up with the conclusion that the child is his?

gojo was careful of the past hookups he got tangled with. there's no way he will knock some random stranger and be forced to take responsibility for a child he didn't want. there is only one person he did get pregnant, you.

his wife who escaped left him a few years ago with his unborn child growing inside your belly. funny how all those escape attempts you'd done in the past, you only succeeded once and that is when you're pregnant and then after that you disappeared like you didn't exist in his life but gojo isn't that willing to let you go. he will find you. there's no force or power in this life that can stop in him and only fate to intervene and guide him to you which leaves him in this current situation.

the sun begins to set and the clouds turned into a mix of oranges and red. the swing makes a creaking sound as it sways back and forth along with chains clanging with every move. resonating into the emptiness of the park and his son only ignores him. barely glancing at him while staring at the distance. waiting. waiting for his mother. waiting for his wife to pick him up.

gojo chuckles at the cold treatment his son have been giving him. hadn't been the most affectionate person just like when he's at that age. unforgiving and arrogant. he looked at the ground beneath him. a brief memory flashes by before looking at his son again. leaving the swing at a flash and sprinting towards someone. he follows the little boy and gojo smirks. fate do favor him.

“mama!” your little boy called to you. almost jumping in your arms and you fumbled a bit. balancing the plastic bags in your hold to pick up your son. threading his hair with your fingers and kissing his forehead like you always do.

“satoshi! sorry for making you wait. mama had errands to do. how are you?” in which your son looks at you with a huge grin in his face. making you smile in return and he whips his head to look at the swings and you followed his sight. there he is, your nightmare. the reason you have your son.

the temperature drops with every second as the wind blows stronger. you hugged your son tighter to you. your body freezing with your mind telling you to run and with a deep breath. you squeezed your son before taking a step backwards and turning around. never looking back.

he watched as his son went to you and you picking him up and you realizing that he's near you. just within arm's reach and that fear coming from you. good to know he still have a hold on you.

calm down! you tell to yourself while you carried satoshi away from that man. you know you can't hide from him forever. you will just run again. no matter how many times. you did it once — what's the difference of doing it again.

you write a mental note to yourself to pack your bags after this. you're not going back again to him, not with your child. you don't want him to go through the same things he put you through. he was already dead to your son and to you and he's merely a ghost who terrorizes you. when you got home, you made sure to lock all your doors before making dinner and tucking your son to bed and then you grab the bags.

after packing up the last necessities, you slowly trudged your way up to your son's room and your heart drops when you see him looming besides your son's sleeping figure.

“quite bold of you.” he began to speak and your lips tremble. he didn't face you and kept looking at his son. your face bereave with anger. “s—” the words die out before he interrupted you.

“going as far to dye my boy's hair. almost thought he's not mine and thinking you found yourself another man to take care of you. breaks my heart to kill him and take you.” caressing his son's hair. satoshi remained asleep despite the scene unfolding.

“satoshi doesn't need someone like you. we don't need you. stay away from him. from us.” you murmured. careful not to wake satoshi up and find his father. you don't need someone like gojo to be around satoshi.

“can't i?” said satoru. slowly standing up and making his way to you. “cause the last thing i remember, you were still mrs. gojo. pregnant with my baby.” you let out a silent yelp when he suddenly hugged you.

“let go.” you firmly warned him. squirming from his grasp but he only held you tighter. “i won't. now you're here with me. you don't know how much i have missed you.” he breathes out. his hand in the back of your head until it slowly descends on your back. squeezing the dips of your hips and you silently gasp. trying to keep the tears at bay. his nose in the pulse of your neck. breathing in your scent. “you won't deny me.” he whispers and before he could fully go down in you. he hears the bed creak, followed by someone shifting and a sniffle coming from his son. his hold got loose on you and with that, you pushed him off. joining his son in his bed to comfort him.

satoshi sniffles, his eyes fluttering and showing the blues that he inherited from his father. “mama?” he calls you and you immediately shush him. “mama's here, satoshi.” you coo. pulling the covers and tucking it beside you and satoshi latched into you. his eyes beading with tears. “it's just a nightmare, satoshi. nothing's going to hurt you.” you lied. there's only one who could hurt you both. the man who put you in hell for his own. he can do that to satoshi too and you won't let him.

although gojo had longed and wanted to take you there at the moment, he let you tend to his son. set aside the urges of longing for you who left him. a discovery he just had found hours ago. he's a father now. his back presses at the cold wall behind him and he melts at the tender moment before him. this is what you had been doing for the last five years and is it that long. five years. five years had gone by and he missed it. he wasn't there to take care for you and watch his child grow up. you stole the years and the moments where he could be with you and his son.

there's the gnawing feeling that eats him inside. the betrayal simmering in his chest the day you left him, days after he received the news that you were carrying his heir. it feels like an eternity after that.

when satoshi finally settled and you can hear the tiny snores coming from him. you slowly removed yourself from his side. it took awhile to pry his hands clutching your top before replacing it with a pillow. you kiss him in the forehead and it's finally to face him.

you're beneath him. his head hung low while he stares deeply at your eyes. both of your hands are pinned beside you. he glances at your bedside table. littered with pictures of you and satoshi. it makes his heart bleed to see him absent from all of it. he wasn't even there to see satoshi as a baby, taking his first step and see him grow to what he is now. it's all because you choose to leave him.

“you raised satoshi well.”

“i did. i'm not raising satoshi with you around.”

gojo hums, “oh, really? he didn't ask who might be his father is?” quite curious about it and he knows what you're about to answer and you didn't disappoint.

“i did. told his father was dead because you don't exist to us. to satoshi. why bother with us who don't want you?” you bravely stared back at his eyes and you thought this is going to be satoshi when he grows up to be satoru's age.

“i am bothered with it. my wife leaving me out of the blue with my child inside you. i told you, didn't i? i will always find you.”

you take a deep breath to keep the tears from spilling out of you. “five years. five years, satoru. you should have moved on. find another woman who can give what you want.”

“they can't if they are not you. why would I want myself another one when i know my wife and child are alive. how could you be so cruel to me, (y/n). you're my one and only.” gojo holds your cheek in his one hand while his eyes roam to your face and then landing in your lips.

he's been dying to kiss you for a long time and he can do it again. it feels like the first time he had kissed you. soft. gentle and sweet. it hurt him a bit to see you bite your lips with your eyes closed but he didn't care. he knows this was also the same way you reacted when you both created satoshi.

a familiar warmth creep up on him. his once cold heart melting at the contact of your lips against his. heart thrumming in slow beats. shallow breaths fans your skin and he gazes at you, with the same adoration present in the blues of his eyes.

“leave, satoru.” you protested but gojo ignores it. “no, i won't. you're stuck with me.” you cry softly when he kisses you again. hands wandering all over your body and whispering filth of how he missed your body.

“satoshi's sleeping next room.” he shushes you. “i know, that's why we have to keep quiet. you sure can manage that, mochi?” he didn't change with his nicknames and you were left weak and hopeless against his touches.

that night he ravaged you. marking the expanse of your skin. praising how you were still his wife and you never changed. the plushness of your body and just everything about you. motherhood is kind to you. he says. your body is made for him, nurturing his child and you freeze when he talks about putting one on you again. saying that he will give the next his all love with you present and you will both take care of satoshi and his sibling. you were terrified. tasting freedom once and he's back on you again to take it. escaping will be harder and you don't think it'll allow you with again.

in a blink of an eye, you were in your own prison again. you find yourself staring at the familiar garden and you think five years will change it. he kept it the same as the last when you left with promises that you will both be watching as your children played.

satoshi's hair had gone to its natural color. he's the spitting image of his father much to his delight but his child remained wary of him. even he's staring at the older image of him. he remained by your side.

“will i have a baby brother, mama?” he asks you while you were resting. “i don't know, satoshi. do you want a baby brother?” caressing your swollen belly and you fought the tears. satoshi noticing the tears pooling in your eyes, instantly expresses his concern. “no...no. mama is just a bit tired, satoshi. don't you worry about it, okay?” you assure him. “is it the baby?” you nodded at his question. he pouts at your answer. “then i don't want a baby brother.... or a sister!” he exclaims before jumping to hug you.

“satoshi, don't be mean to your baby brother or sister.” your husband pulls satoshi from you. “i hate who makes mama cry.” gojo chuckles at him. “me too, satoshi. let's protect your mama, shall we?” he embraces your son. satoshi nods, and you die a little inside.

you will spend the next years playing house with him with a new addition to this family. you still can't accept this. his words haunts you and you just can't.

gojo caresses your belly. looking at you with a smile on his face. “can't wait for this little one to arrive.” he says to you and you crack a smile at him. the thought of escape no longer lingers in your mind. not that you can think when you have a child with him and one coming.

NANAMI KENTO

nanami didn't take you leaving him to be so distressing. his life revolving around you and a baby on the way. it's going to be complete. a life with you and it took one night for you to leave him without a trace and so he goes back to working overtime.

the first days were grueling. searching for everywhere. going as far in finding information with your relatives who had given up on finding you. there's no sign of you. he spent the days and night thinking about you. worried about how you're doing without him. what about the baby? if the baby was to survive and reach the age of consciousness will his child think of him? the thoughts are endless and he don't think he can live another day without you.

the fluorescent lights are too bright for his eyes that has been drowned by the darkness of his room. his headaches becoming unbearable as the minute passes by and the stench of the hospital adding to his already dulled senses. cheeks hollowed with his sunken eyes. dragging his step to move forward. he shouldn't be here but if he wants to continue his job, a prescription would be nice from a professional.

after a scolding from the older doctor, balding with a pot belly. yapping about his health while he wrote his prescription. consisting of vitamins and stuff he didn't bother to read cause he will only give it to the pharmacist and continue his own source of living.

he was nearing the exit when a particular sign caught his sight. pediatric & maternity ward. he stops for a moment. wondering if you were here and he's accompanying you to get the first check up of your pregnancy and then an appointment for your ultrasound. hear the first heartbeat of his child and know the due date of you giving birth.

it's almost a year since you left him and he was to blame. nanami knows it was wrong to keep you for himself. telling that the outside world is dangerous for someone like you and he's facing the consequences of hurting you.

you must have given birth at this day and the baby must be four-months old. his heart grows heavy the more he thinks of you and his child. he began to walk away, the ward giving him pain and the regrets showing up. before he could step outside the doors from the ward opens and he hears a voice that he misses dearly.

when he turned around, he had to rubbed his eyes to ensure his vision wasn't playing him. there you stood, a nurse assisting you and talking on what he can assume as good wishes to you.

his breath hitches and when the nurse bid you farewell before going back to her duties. you smile back at the nurse and your attention is back in your baby. adjusting the blanket to provide warmth for the infant and when you were contented from it, you raised you head to look at your way. beginning to walk and you notice him.

you stopped when you recognize him. out of all the places to meet him, a hospital it is. worst is — you have your baby with you. hesitating to move forward or turn around and look for a another exit but it's him. it's nanami. you couldn't forget him and his ways of making you feel trapped.

what feels like an eternity and standing like a statue you continued to walk. abandoning the fear of being under him again. you could just ignore him and go home and so you did.

it hurts so much to let you go and he didn't have the strength to confront you. knowing that you'll run again and he don't want to scare you and make things worst. it pains him and yet, he was at peace. a heavy weight being lifted from his chest and he thinks he can breath properly again.

it took him awhile to get back in his daily routine when you were still around. he'd gotten better. there's no longer the dark lines under his eyes and he seems productive nowadays. he knows you won't take him back and he can't do that again to you. he won't give you a reason to loathe him again — not when his child is present in both of your lives.

he got your address effortlessly and now, he's standing in front of your door. holding a bouquet of flowers and he's adjusting his tie before knocking in your front door. he hears the shuffle of feet and the lock clicking. revealing yourself in front of him.

in a span of a year, you slowly managed to get back on your feet. body aching while you wash yourself clean and heal the wounds you inflicted in yourself while you were in his captivity. you needed to change — if you were going to bring this baby in the world. a brand new start for yourself.

when you met him that day at the hospital with his child cradled in your arms. it won't be too long for him to get you back and you feared for the safety of your child. you know nanami isn't that heartless but considering how could he be selfish at times — you knew what fate would await for your daughter.

not until he came knocking at your door. you weren't prepared for it and you did what only you can do — shut the door. it didn't happen, his arm blocking the door. “please, darling. let me explain.” he pleaded and it kinds of break your heart to hear him pleading but you're too hurt to give in. “leave us alone, kento.” you say to him but he's persistent.

he won't be leaving anytime soon, you think and maybe he'll force his way and escalate into something that can harm you or your child and you give in. you pull the door open and nanami sighs in relief when you opened the door for him.

“what do you want?” you bite your tongue when you said it. he didn't need to answer, you know what he wants.

“can we talk?” although he's a little worried about how you will react about it considering his past mistakes and he knows you're not going to open up at him anytime soon.

he didn't missed the change in your attitude. what hostility forming into you change into something of a hesitation. chewing into your lips as you decide whether you were ready to talk to him until you nodded. granting him to explain what he was about to say to you.

“come inside.” you softly mutter as you turned your back around him.

the full force of his regrets came crashing down at him from how the way you treat him. a reflection of how he badly treated you from shielding you against the world when it was him who was truly hurting you.

“so...” you started to speak at him. “what brings you here?” why are you this!? you thought to yourself. screaming internally at the the questions you were asking to him. how come you are this weak when it comes to this. you needed to be strong. prepare for the worst.

“you. i came here for you and for the baby. forgive me, darling but is the baby mine?”

you flinch when he questioned your baby's parentage and the bottled up feelings you were suppressing instantly bursting into the scene.

“is the baby yours?...” your words drawl out. “is the baby yours!? i didn't know that you could be this stupid, kento?! you kept me chained for years and knocked me up with your baby and you question me about her! how could you....?” so much for suppressing the feelings you couldn't say to him for a long time.

a wave of regret washes over him and you were right. he is stupid. you were crying because of him again. you were shaking like a leaf while tears continuously flowing out from your eyes. your sobs are muffled and tears are soaking his shirt. his chin resting in the top of your head while he held you close. he wishes he could take your pain. redeem himself from his old ways of treating you bad.

“you come here telling me you want me back and you want to be a part of her life.....” days. nights. you were thinking of him despite what he had done to you. “i told you, i didn't want her. didn't want a child for me to raise... cried myself to sleep every night after escaping you.” it was true. how you feel your baby growing inside you every seconds of your life, it terrified you. thinking how can you raise the baby.

kento's eyes softened. he didn't know it would hurt so much like he felt when you left him. you were getting the brunt of it more than he did. he thinks back from the days of how he treated you and the whole duration of your pregnancy and you giving birth alone. you must been so scared and alone.

all of that, the words of what you said sinking deeper in his skin. remorse and regret is evident in his face while he held you.

“i didn't know.” he whisper, his voice above a breath. “i didn't know you felt that way, darling.” the endearment of what he used to call you and calling you again with it again cause more tears to spring in your eyes. oh, how you love and hate him at the same time.

“i didn't know i could hurt you this bad, i—i was only thinking that if i have you back, everything will be fine. i didn't realize i was hurting you this much.”

he slowly moves away from you. reaching tentatively to hold your hands and his heart breaks to see the face he loves so much to be this hurt. “i want to make things right, darling.” there's a slight tremor in his voice. “i know i can't undo what i had done to you, but please, let me be here for you, for our child.” he holds your hands gently. “i'll do whatever to earn your forgiveness.” you were taken aback from all of it but deep down you could never trust him or forgive him. you didn't respond and you can only shake your head not until you hear crying in the nursery room where your baby sleeps.

“if you want to be better, leave us.” you began to walk away and as much nanami wants to snatch you again, you stop in your tracks. “and maybe, i'll let you back to us.”

“for now.” you added.

he kept true to his words. it's hard but it can never compare of what you had been through and he respects the boundary you were setting. he sent you flowers during the time he wasn't around and it was not enough, he needed to see you and when he did, he was granted to see his daughter, hold her in his arms.

the baby looks like you except for the blonde hair and it was just like he dreamt. a family with you. she's perfect. perfect as her mother who graced him with her presence and this baby, he will protect this child with you.

he finds you crying. masking it as dust getting in your eyes but nanami knows you like the back of his hand. after tucking his daughter back to her crib, he joins you. sitting beside you and it broke his heart a million pieces knowing you were still in the process of forgiving him.

he's a father now but he is still your husband. “i'm so sorry, darling.” he whispers, holding your hand in his. pulling you closer to rest your head in his shoulder but nanami had longed to kiss you again.

he cups your face in his hands. caressing your round cheeks and despite wanting to recoil from his touch and avoid his gaze, some part of you wants to be held like this and you can't lie to yourself that you missed him despite everything. tough love it was or is it there still love in that?

“let me make it up you.” you shaked your head. closing your eyes and a tear escaped from the corner of your eye. nanami frowns. sighing before pressing his forehead into yours for a moment before pulling away to kiss your forehead.

this is nothing, he will endure it for a very long time until he can be yours again.

TOJI FUSHIGURO

he call it a happy accident. toji happens to beat that self-proclaimed sorcerer piece of shit and now, that shit is meeting his creator. he pays the body no mind when that leather wallet of this weakling drops beside his body. well, it's not the body is only cold. he expects to find some cold, hard cash there and he gets more than that. a picture of his wife and toji clicks his tongue. kicking the son of a bitch's body. annoyed that his wife is playing house with a another man that didn't even manage to put a scratch on him.

an idea appeared in his mind and toji smirks. he could pay this wife of his a visit. you would be so happy to meet him.

he came knocking at your door and the look you expressed is the best you can ever muster in a true horror of him finding you, it didn't disappoint.

“hey there wife. remember me?” he said in the most cocky voice he can muster and look at you, you're almost shaking in your boots but toji is surprised as you are when you were holding a toddler in your arms. a dead ringer of him. round, emerald eyes with the same eyelashes and face as his. clutching your blouse with a pacifier in his mouth.

his sight narrows to his son and to you. his once surprised face being replaced with a bored look and you couldn't even bring yourself to close the door. you don't know what he's thinking and so he got you when you're weak.

“you birthed a brat and it's mine?” it's not a question really when he comes doing this. his hard body pressed against your soft one. trapped in the cold table where you prepare him tea. insisting that he's a guest in your house and you must be a good host to serve him.

toji sighs, a low grunt coming from him. “you could be so mean if you want to. hiding my child and you come playing house with a man you replaced me with.” your blood runs cold with every words he said and the hands wandering all over your body until it came creeping below your blouse and his rough hands are squeezing the flesh of your stomach. you closed your eyes shut.

“he's a good man. which you will never be and you killed him.” your lungs contracts before releasing a breath that will took you days, months or for years to tell him that and you said it in one breath.

his eyebrows twitch. a look of disdain dawning in his face. just because you tasted freedom and you're acting like a goddamn independent bitch. you deserved to be punished.

the tea's now forgotten cold. you're pinned in the counter top with toji's cupping your jaw in a deathly grip. the skin of your wrist turning into a another shade. the circulation cut off and it begins to numb.

“who said about me being good man? he's a weakling who can't even protect himself and that weakling lead me to you and you're his what? his bitch? a body to warm his bed? when you should be doing it to mine!? you're one ungrateful bitch.” toji chuckles and he smirks triumphantly.

“my kindness needs to be paid, princess.” and here he goes calling you with the spiteful nickname to you.

he didn't give you the time to reply and forcefully kissed you. you almost choked at his whole body weight crushing your own. you couldn't even move your face to the side and reject that kiss of him. you didn't need him and your mind froze thinking of megumi.

you don't want him to see you in this position with his father. you kissed back, giving him what he wants so you can tell him. resistance is futile with megumi present in your life now.

toji grunts. you can feel him smile against your lips and when he breaks the kiss. you stare at him with your eyes pleading. “megumi.” and toji got the message of what you're talking. he glances at the door of the kitchen and he can the tiny shadow of his son walking, although a little wobbly and using the walls to balance himself. he scoffs at his son, ruining his reunion with his mother and toji is quite annoyed by it but it didn't stop him from feeling proud of birthing his son.

toji lets you free and your knees wobbled, giving out on you and you were left kneeling at the cold floor. megumi spotted you and in his own steps made his way to you in which you hugged him tightly.

“you ain't going to introduce him to his old man, wife?” you pursed your lips at his question and ignored him. rubbing megumi's back and shutting his father out and it ticked toji to just take his son away from you but resisted the urge to do so. knowing he can use this to keep you to him again. you would be so obedient with a little threat.

“careful now. you don't want me taking our little megumi away from you.” he warns. “now, put megumi to sleep and we can continue this little reunion of ours.” you nodded and you immediately scamper away from him and you see the front door. you can run but he'll catch you. you accepted your fate now and you would take the brunt of his punishments cause you're a disobedient wide who didn't care about your husband's desire.

it would be a waste to chain you again. toji thought. you're a mother now and he got a son with you. he don't want any interfering from how you will raise his son. he couldn't think about anything and maybe after you put megumi to sleep. he could think the ways he could keep you by his side again. for now, he'll just be a little patient and he can have you again for himself again.

GETO SUGURU

it was a mix of being ashamed and scared.

you knew this day will come when suguru and his child will reunite once again. the last he seen you was a baby bump visible in your dress in which he was happy. it did take root. a new lineage for the age of sorcerers.

dusk beginning to settle in the skies and you were supposed to fetch your son in the front yard telling that supper is ready and to your surprise. you found suguru standing tall, head low to face your son. a smile plastered in his face the whole time talking to your son and then he notices your stiff figure standing in the pavement before slowly walking towards them.

“i am your father. did your mommy told you that?” he asks and your son is processing what the words could mean. taking a glance between you and to his father. waiting for an answer in which you remained silent and only to tell him to go inside and wait for you.

suguru smiles. the smile that you hadn't seen for years and you can't deny that it still have an effect on you. “missed me, (y/n)?” the curse user spoke to you. his black and long hair swaying in the rhythm of the gentle breeze blowing.

“not really.” you honestly said to him and suguru's eyes changes into something dark from how you responded. “guess you got tired of all that luxury or everything's not enough for you.” he tuts. following the changes that is present in your face but he only received a curt shake of your head.

how shallow is that. you were like a pet to him. something he owned. a possession. he didn't like you being you and so you were lavished with expensive stuff that would keep you chained from the compound and to his little family. family. one you never had and never truly belonged in his place however you laid with him every night and the result, your son. living and breathing.

once you found out you were with child. it was a realization that you were never free and it hit you that this child will suffer the same fate as you and so you walked out. never looking back with the sole intention that you will raise this child with a perspective of the world and not to be influenced. his own and so you lived for years in peace until he showed up.

a shiver went down your spine from the contact of his fingers tracing to your soft jawline. electric and shocking. with a touch you will obey him but it's different. you're a mother now and something so good will only bring you to your own demise and it will extend to your child.

it is but you missed him touching you. a slave for his affections and you weren't really different from your past self. mustering the courage is the same as surrending yourself from the man who you treated as your world.

closing your eyes and you raised your head to meet suguru's eyes. purple it is. “you would understand why i left you, suguru. i can't raise ryū in that place.”

“and you think excluding me from ryū's life will change it?” not breaking eye contact while he caress your round cheek.

“yes. you're mad suguru and i can't change that.”

suguru chuckles. how motherhood impacted your ways of thinking. finding it so endearing to see you standing up and you wouldn't believe it that he's much more in love with your or whatever he was feeling. he knows it's bad for him and to you. “look at that, motherhood did you good. mad? i'll show what's mad, my dear wife.” he leans to whisper something to your ear. “i will let this go once and then prepare yourself. you will be back to me and with ryū, there's no chance of turning your back away from me.” he softly threatens to you and it weighs heavier. a contrast of the mellow tone of voice he was using.

“see you soon, (y/n).” kissing your cheeks before waving a hand to say goodbye to your son who was staring behind the windows.

suguru left after that and you knew what's about to come and you wished none of that will happen but suguru was always true to his words and you abandoned hope.

he will come back.

[happy74827]

Bittersweet Moments

[Peter Maximoff x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Your best friend (if you’d even call him that), is an annoying piece of work 99% of the time. But that 1%? That 1% is pretty special.

WC: 1513

Category: Fluff, Irritated!Reader, Mentions of Migraines

My first Evan Peters fic? Lets go.

『••✎••』

Being friends with that white-haired speedster meant you never had a moment of quiet. The guy was just so fast that you never had a second to blink without him pulling a prank on you, which is why you were constantly on edge around him. You could never trust him.

But that didn't mean that he didn't have his moments.

You were on the floor, eyes shut, attempting to fade the raging migraine out. You made your room into a dark cave and had been there all day, and yet, the pain in your head only grew.

By the time you heard your door creak open, you already felt the presence and the air in the room shift. It was almost like a ghost was floating through the doorway.

"No." The voice was quiet, and the sound was barely audible.

The soft footsteps stopped, and you opened one eye, seeing the blurred white figure. Your vision was blurry, and everything was doubled, but you could make out the face.

"You locked me out." The tone wasn't accusatory or playful. It was a soft, concerned tone that made your chest squeeze.

You rolled your head back, trying to look up at him.

"Sorry," you croaked. "But I’m also not sorry. I needed the silence."

"Yeah, yeah," he said dismissively. He crouched down his hand landing on your arm. His skin was cold against yours. I know you secretly look forward to our little hangouts."

"No, I don't," you grumbled. "And I especially don't right now."

"Can’t even handle my presence without getting whiplash? Man, I must be really awesome."

You could faintly make out his smug smirk, and it made you snort, only worsening your headache.

"Just..." You waved your hand at him. "Get out. Leave."

He, in fact, did not leave. Instead, he stood up and went over to your bed.

You watched him in confusion as he took off his shoes, and then, with a quick flash of light, he was beside you once again, a blanket suddenly wrapped around him.

"Wh-" You were cut off as the blanket was draped around you, and you found yourself pulled up from the ground.

Peter's arm slipped around your shoulders, and he led you over to the bed. He pulled back the covers, and you climbed in, still unsure of what was going on.

Once you were in bed, he pulled the covers back up, and before you could say anything, his headset was ripped from your dresser. He placed them over his ears and lay down beside you.

He looked at you and nodded his head, giving you a thumbs-up.

You just stared at him, completely confused, but his gaze was unwavering. You let out a sigh, deciding to just roll with it. You were too tired to deal with Peter's bullshit anyway.

You rested your head on the pillow and shut your eyes.

A few moments later, a tune started playing, the music filling your ears. Not the loud, classic rock he usually blasted, but a soothing acoustic.

"You’re a fan of the Beatles?" You asked, surprised. You fluttered your eyes only to see Peter's face correctly. He looked like he was in deep thought. And with the soothing music from his Walkman (that he obviously lent to you) and the quiet, you couldn't help but feel a small tug on your heart.

He shrugged. "It just felt like the right song for the mood."

"Meaning… me dying?"

"Oh, stop being dramatic," he rolled his eyes. "Your little brain is just confused from having a devilishly handsome man lay in bed with you."

"You do realize I’ve had this for days now, right?"

"Alright, so, a devilishly handsome man around you. Is that better?"

"I can’t believe I let you in here," you grumbled, closing your eyes once more.

"Don't lie," he said, a little louder than usual since the music was loud in your ears. You know you like my company—that and my box of sweets."

What box of—

Your eyes opened, and you looked up, seeing him holding a box of chocolate-covered almonds. Your heart did a flip.

"Is this... " You reached for the box, and he handed it to you.

"They're the good stuff. None of that cheap candy crap."

"Wow, you eat something other than Twinkies? I'm impressed," you teased, taking a piece and popping it into your mouth.

"Hey, don't hate the Twinkies. You ever try them with ice cream? It's great. It's like cake, but it's not, ya know? They're just so squishy, but the flavor is there."

"Uh, ew?"

"What, are you some fancy girl? Too high class for my delicious desserts?"

"Yeah, that's exactly it," you laughed, shaking your head. You rested your head on the pillow again.

"Whatever," he chuckled. "Eat your expensive ass almonds. I had to pay actual money for those, and I'm pretty sure Hank's going to notice they're gone."

That made you sit up despite the pounding in your head. "You stole them?! Oh my god, what's wrong with you?!"

"What?" he looked at you innocently. So I stole a box of chocolates. Big deal. The guy's rich. He never notices when I swipe his food. He'll just assume he forgot to put them away or something."

"Ugh, you are such an ass."

"You say ass; I say awesome."

"No," you said, putting another almond into your mouth. "Ass."

"Alright, fine. But, hey, look, who’s still eating the stolen chocolates?"

"Yeah, well," you smirked, taking another one. " Technically, I didn’t steal it. You did. So I can have a clear conscience."

"Ah, I see," he grinned. "Well, in that case, have another. Grab as many as you want. My treat."

You stared at him. "Okay, who are you, and what did you do with Peter?"

"What?"

"This," you gestured towards him. "All of this. You're never nice."

"Well, when you've had a migraine that's lasted for three days, you kinda learn to have a little empathy for that person."

"Three days?" you said, shocked. "Wait, how did you know the exact amount of time?"

"Don’t let anyone tell you you’re just a pretty face… I’m an all-seeing god, remember? Nothing can get by me."

"Except when Apocalypse broke—"

"Okay! Okay, I don’t need to relive that, alright? Sheesh, you're worse than Raven."

You grinned, taking another almond.

"Thanks," you said sincerely.

"For what? Comparing you to the blue lady? Anytime."

"No," you rolled your eyes. "I mean, for not pulling a… well, you. I really do appreciate it."

"Does this mean you’re leaving the Batcave? If we're getting sappy, then I should probably head out. I don’t want to risk my rep."

"You and I both know you have no reputation."

"True," he smiled. But hey, a guy can dream, right?"

You laughed, shaking your head. You were about to lay back down when he spoke up again.

"Actually," he said, looking at the ceiling, "there is one thing I'm good at."

"What's that?"

He didn't say anything. He just stared at the ceiling.

"Pete?"

His head whipped around to you, and with the same speed, he was leaning over you, his face inches away from yours.

"Peter, what—"

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to your ear, and the comment you were about to say died in your throat.

"I can shut up."

The sound of his voice, so soft and low, sent shivers down your spine. He pulled away and gave you a quick smile.

"Just something to think about," he said, and you could see the red tint on his cheeks. He sat up and stood in front of you before you could say anything else.

"You can give the Walkman back whenever, so, uh, don't worry about it. Anyway, I gotta get going. You know, stuff to do and snacks to eat." He turned towards the door. "Anyway, feel better. Later."

And before you could comprehend what had just happened, he was gone just like the wind.

You sat in your bed, still feeling the phantom feeling of his breath on your ear.

And ironically, the pain in your head was starting to fade.

So, yes. Despite him being an annoying little shit, he did have his moments. Genuine, quiet, caring moments. And it always made you question whether or not he was secretly a clone.

You were still staring at the door, your mind running a mile a minute.

But then, as if he could read your thoughts, he peeked his head back into your room.

"Oh, and if you tell anyone about this, I'll tell everyone you're a huge Star Wars nerd."

He vanished, and a second later, he was back once more.

"Also, I definitely didn’t steal that Walkman from a certain someone, so, uh, have fun with the mixtape!"

With that, he was gone.

You rolled your eyes and laid back down, putting the headphones back on.

"Ass."

You will definitely be visiting the white-haired speedster tomorrow. He may have his moments, but that doesn't mean he doesn't deserve some good old-fashioned payback.

[hwalovs]

Days and Nights (M)

Pairing; Mike Schmidt x reader Word count; 2635 Warnings; this is pure smut, maybe a little plot. Kissing, whining, dom/sub themes, unprotected sex (wrap it you freaks), they get right to it, breeding kink? kind of?, they'reliterallyinloveshutupbro

Description; Being the day shift guard has its perks, you get to leave at midnight, you get to leave for lunch while all the fast food restaurants were still open, and you get to see the cute night shift guard before you leave.

A/N; i am feral for this man, I don't know what happened. one day i watched the movie, the next im frothing at the mouth for another white boy. this is so short i might write something longer for him.

after finding my fic reposted on wattpad, I'm going to make clear; DO NOT REPOST THIS WITHOUT ASKING OR WITHOUT PROPER CREDIT.

I will only let this pass once, as for my other fics, DO NOT REPOST THEM.

THIS IS NOT EDITED

Mike was hired two months before you, first seeing you before he started his nightly shift at the pizzeria. You were standing outside, reading through a book before looking up when you heard his car door shut. You smiled, and dropped your book back into your bag before walking over. Your car was parked further away from his, but you went out of your way to walk up to him. 

From then on, you two were friends, always seeing each other after your shift and before his. You always made sure his badge was straight, and he always made sure to tell you to get home safe. Sometimes you both would stop to ask each other about your days, he talked about his sister, and you talked about your cats. 

One day, he got there a little early, wanting to get in and use his time to sleep, to try and find more clues about what happened to his brother. He found you asleep at the security desk. Snoring softly, the monitors flickering in and out. He smiled, setting his stuff down besides yours before walking closer, bending down so he could see you more clearly. One of your cheeks was squished against your arm, your breathing even. 

“(Y/n),” he cooed, reaching up to move a piece of your hair. You stir, slowly opening your eyes before realizing who it was in front of you. Shooting up, you rub your eyes and stutter, looking at him, and then the clock.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t even realize I fell asleep!”

He smiles, standing back up and leaning against the desk. He watched you rush around with tired eyes, collecting your stuff while rattling on how active the animatronics were. 

He found you like once or twice, but never regularly. Sometimes he would find a forgotten coffee cup, and he would smile before throwing it away. It was the little things about you that he was slowly picking up on. He remembered each one, and wanted to learn more about you. 

Mike knew he was in too deep when you were getting ready to leave one day, packing up the rest of your stuff and flashing him that dazzling smile you always did. It made him forget the Dream Theory book resting in his bag, or the pills that accompany it. He forgot for just a second why he was there so early, why he was itching to fall asleep at the desk in the first place. 

You stand from the chair, badge catching the light, and when you sigh and roll your neck, whimpering at the tight knot, he shivers. He shouldn't, he knows that, you're his coworker, someone who endures the same nightmare he did- but he couldn’t stop the thoughts of you underneath him, whimpering as he sunk deeper inside you, stopping when his hips were flush against-

“Mike!” 

Your voice felt like ice water, rattling him until he was back in reality. He shifts, hoping that his sweatshirt covers how hard he was. There was a small part of him, deep within his brain, that did hope you saw, that you’d offer to help him. 

“Yeah?” He clears his throat, swallowing when his mouth waters. Smiling, you tilt your head, and he feels his stomach drop. 

“Did you hear me?”

He curses himself, “yeah! Yeah.”

Your eyes narrow, “what did I say, then?”

You were teasing him. You had to be, you were smiling again, and as you walked closer, he tried to rack his brain, trying to remember what you were saying. 

“Cat got your tongue?” Your voice is quiet, and you’re right in front of him. He can smell your perfume, can see the shine of your chapstick that's on your lips. 

“I- uh-”

“You’re so cute,” you chuckle, and it throws him off balance. He almost falls from the whiplash you’ve given him. You usually don’t stop to talk to him like this, you usually pack up and bid your goodbyes, warning him on the animatronics movement- but with how close you were, that he could smell your perfume, he realized he didn’t care. You were here, in front of him, calling him cute.

“What?”

You lean in close this time, your breath tickling his ear. 

“You heard me, Mike. Or are you lost in your thoughts again?”

Your lips press against his and it's the only thing he can think about. Your lips taste like strawberries, and your mouth tastes exactly like he thought it would. Your hands are in his hair, and his are gripping your waist tightly. 

He wonders when he’ll wake up, if this is a dream. When you lightly bite his lip, he moans, and comes to the conclusion that you’re real, and you’re kissing him. 

Pushing you both from the doorway, he backs you up to the desk. Kicking the chair away, he blindly reaches behind you to push away the small controllers that litter the top. He hears something crash onto the floor, but pays it no mind when you're sucking on his tongue. 

His hands reach under your thighs, lifting you onto the desk, and your hands fumble at his belt, the fog that settled on his mind clears for a moment, and he pulls away.

“Here?”

You furrow your eyebrows, before smirking and leaning forwards, “you don’t want it?”

“I do- I really do-”

“Then what’s stopping you?” He tries to think, but can’t when it's only youyouyou on his mind. Flooding his senses, invading his thoughts and making him feel crazy ever since the day he met you. His jeans are tight, and he can feel the precum that's pooling in his underwear. 

“Fuck,” he surges to kiss you again, reaching down to unbutton your jeans. He slides his hands into the waistband, and you use the edge of the desk to push yourself up, letting him yank the jeans off in one fluid motion, your panties going with it. 

The desk was cold on your skin, but you didn’t care when Mike lifted his shirt, biting into the fabric and pushing his pants down far enough to free his cock.

In any other situation, Mike would have you in his bed, pillow under your hips while he eats you out for hours on end. He knew you would taste amazing, just like he knew your mouth would taste amazing. You were perfect to him, and that's the only thing on his mind when he was pressing into you. 

Mike's cock was thick, stretching you out perfectly, a slight burn following. You didn’t stop him, though, because his eyes were locked onto where his cock was slowly sinking into you, and his hands were shaking at the warmth you brought him. 

The monitors behind you continued to show the empty space of the Pizzaria, but it was at the back of both of your minds. Mike’s shirt was still caught between his teeth, his stomach smooth and perfect. He didn’t make a sound until his hips were flush against yours, and the whine he let out made you clench around him. 

His eyebrows furrowed, and he finally looked up at you, pupils dilated, curly hair a mess. Reaching up, you pull the shirt from between his teeth, the fabric wet, and grab the back of his head to drag him into a kiss. His lips are hot against yours, and his tongue licks into your mouth desperately. He moans as he tastes you again, and you grab his hips, trying to pull him further. 

When you pull away, you suck onto his bottom lip, looking at him through your lashes, “look at you,” you coo, “you’re so pretty, baby.”

He whines, blushing as he grinds against you. Finally finding a slow rhythm of deep thrusts. It lets you feel all of him, and lets him feel all of you. He stretched you out so well, and it almost felt like you could feel him in your stomach. He was perfect. 

“You’re so warm,” he whimpers, forehead resting against yours. Pulling at your vest, you manage to throw it to the floor with his, the metal badge chiming against the linoleum. He seems to understand what you’re doing, reaching for the end of your t-shirt, pulling it up quickly. The office was cold, your nipples hardening underneath your bra. You grab at his shirt next, his arms raising so you’re able to throw the shirt to the floor. His hips falter, but he continues.

Mike begins to leave kisses down your neck, biting your bra strap to push it to the side, letting it fall down your arm. He grabs the top of your bra, yanking it down and groaning at the sight of your exposed chest. 

“Fuck,” he curses, licking his lips before surging forwards, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, tongue swirling the bud. Your head falls back against the top of the monitor, moaning loudly. 

Mike pulls away, a string of saliva connects his bottom lip to your nipple, but you lift your head to move closer, licking the spit from his lip to kiss him again. 

There was a heat slowly building in your gut, and you wrap an arm around Mike’s shoulders, trying to make him go harder, to go faster, but he just looks at you with a smirk.

“What is it? Huh?” He asks, his breath heavy. You whine, nails scratching at his skin. 

“Mike-”

He tsks, “common, baby,” he coos, “talk to me.”

“Please- Mike please- harder, fuck me harder,” theres a heat in your cheeks, and you feel your eyes burn at the building coil in your gut. 

Yet, Mike only looks at you with a growing smile, “Harder? You want me to fuck you harder, baby? But why?” He whines, “You feel so good like this.”

“Oh my god,” you moan in frustration, hand reaching in between you both to reach your clit, but his hand grabs your wrist, pinning it behind your back. 

“What is it, baby?”

There's that teasing smirk again, and you can feel your eyes burn. Your orgasm was right there, yet he was slowing down, causing it to be pushed further away. 

“I wanna cum, please, Mike- Please make me cum,” a sob threatens to spill from your lips, but Mike shushes you, kissing you softly. His stubble tickles your cheeks as he lays kisses onto your skin. He bites onto your neck, moaning as you clench around him again, sucking until the skin is bright red. 

He grabs onto your hips, leaning back to look down at where he disappears into you, and begins thrusting harder, letting go of your wrist to allow you to grab onto his shoulders once more. Bringing a hand to his mouth, he licks the pad of his thumb before snaking it between your bodies, rubbing tight circles around your clit. 

Throwing your head back, you almost cry at the hot coil in your stomach threatening to snap, and you can feel the tears that roll down your cheeks. 

“Please- Please, make me cum- wanna cum so bad-” you begging, pleading, in jumbled words that Mike can barely make out. Your legs are locked around his waist, pulling him closer. 

When you cum, your thighs tense around his waist, almost stopping him. Your mouth drops open, and a soft whine falls from your lips. You're clenching so tight around him, Mike almost cums himself, but bends down to bite onto your shoulder to stop himself. He refuses to cum yet, he wants to keep making you feel good. To see you fall apart around him again. 

He leaves another kiss where he was biting down on you, pulling away to leave kisses across your cheeks, before finally stopping to kiss you once more. You're breathing heavily, thighs shaking from the intense orgasm. 

Sliding out of you, he whines softly, pulling you from the desk so you’re standing, he only smiles at your confused face, grabbing your neck softly to pull you into another kiss, tongue licking into your mouth.

“Turn around, baby,” he sighs, holding your hips as you do. The table digs into your hips as you bend down, breasts pressing flat against the cold surface, but he tsks, grabbing your neck once more to pull you back up. His thumb was below your jaw, pressing against your pulse point just enough to feel your heart race.

He uses his other hand to press onto your lower back, making you arch, then reaching down to grab his cock once more and slide through your folds. You were so wet, cum slowly beginning to drip down your thighs. In one smooth thrust, Mike presses his hips flush against your ass, his hand still lightly gripping your neck to keep you against his chest. 

“There you go,” he whimpers, pressing kisses along your shoulders. He starts to thrust again, and you have to bite your lip to stop from moaning loudly. 

He felt so much deeper like this, hitting the spot inside you that had your eyes rolling back. 

There was still a buzz from your orgasm, but it was quickly building into another. Your thighs were shaking, and your palms were flat on the desk, nails digging into the wood. 

“M’gonna cum again-” you moan, knees almost buckling as the rapidly building heat. Mike smiles from behind you, but moves his hand from your waist again, snaking it down once more to circle his fingers around your swollen clit. 

“Again? You gonna cum for me again, pretty girl?”

“Oh my god- Mike-” You’re cumming before you even realize it. Head blank except for the thought of him-

His grip on your throat tightens just slightly, and you reach up to grab his wrist. His hips falter, breathy moans filling your ears as he presses your hips harder into the desk. You knew there would be bruising, but at the moment you didn’t care. You would let Mike do anything he wanted to you, as long as he kept making those heavenly noises for you. 

“You feel so fuckin’ good baby,” he slurs, “my pretty baby- you’re just perfect f’me- Perfect fuckin’ pussy too-” 

“Mike, please” you whimper, arching your back more for him. 

He hums, thrusting harder into you, “that's right baby-” he leans forwards to tilt your head, locking eyes with you, “say my name.”

“Mike-”

He groans, head rolling until your noses touch, “again, say it again baby- please-”

“Mike!-” 

“I’m gonna cum- fuck-” 

Your hand is wrapping around the grab onto him, nails dragging across his skin, “Inside me- please cum inside me- wanna feel you so bad-” 

Mike’s thrusts stop, grinding against you as he spills inside of you. Uttering your name under his breath like it's the only thing he’s ever known. 

You were everything he’s ever wanted. To have you clenching so tight around him, to be able to have you like this was like a dream to him. He never wanted to wake, he wanted to stay here with you forever, but as you both collected yourselves, his cum sliding down your thighs and dripping onto the floor, he knew better than that. He’s sitting in that uncomfortable chair again, watching as you slide your jeans on. You forgo your panties, reaching down to unzip his bag, smiling as you let them drop inside. 

“Do you wanna go on a date?”

You laugh, and it fills the room with a brightness he knew only you could bring. 

“I think we’re way past going on a date.”

“Then how about dinner? I make a mean Spaghetti and meatballs,” he smiles, and feels like his world is complete when you lean down to press a kiss to his lips, “I’d love that.”

[saturnrings77]

intoducing sleazy!rafe

note: this was not supposed to be smutty. I got carried away 😭. i need more dialogue... HOW DO I ADD MEORE?!?!? I gave up at the end, im sorry

oh, how you ignored all his red flags just because he had a pretty face and striking blue eyes. you've come to regret it and there's not much you can do about it.

on your first date, rafe shows up half an hour late, in a wrinkled, orange polo shirt, high with a freshly rolled blunt behind his ear. there's remnants of white powder along the edge of his nostril. his hair is greasy, and you wish he had put more effort into his appearance with all the dirty stares you were receiving.

he lazily chuckles at god knows what. his pupils are blown and his eyes are lidded. he has to tilt his head slightly up to be able to see you.

"let's eat?" you're unsure at this point, hesitating to call up one of your friends fo an excuse. your friends warned you about this. did you listen? no. you didn't want to prove them wrong though, always seeing the best in people.

"yeah... yeah"

when you flip you hair over your shoulder he says "i wonder how many times it'll wrap around my wrist." you freeze.

you fight every nerve in your body to refrain from rolling your eyes. gosh, he was so high.

the whole date went by with him making crude remarks directed towards you and the alcohol you guys were getting served was not doing anything to help the situation. you were buzzed and horny.

his gaze kept dropping towards your glossy lips and chest accentuated perfectly by the silk dress you were wearing. with the way he was licking his lips and shifting in his seat, there was no way he was letting you go home without him.

you felt exposed with the way he was eye-fucking you and you felt all the more turned on, your nipples hardening and poking out through the thin fabric.

you, were no better. you mirrored his actions, eyes constantly flicking down towards his lips every time he licked them, suggestively taking food into your mouth and leaning down enough to expose as much flesh of your tips without flashing him your nipples. something about his nasally, rich kid voice had you hanging onto his every word.

"y'look sexy." rafe's licking his lips, undressing you with his eyes. you squirm in your sit at his gaze. "got such a beautiful little thing sitting in front of me."

he's hot, that's for sure. maybe, one night wouldn't hurt.

"wanna go back to mine?"

"mhm" the moment you affirm your answer, he throws a wad of cash on the table, grabs your bag and drags you out the restaurant. he's taking large steps, much to large for your stiletto clad feet. "rafe, slow down." he slows down and looks back at you, before he starts walking towards you and throws you over his shoulder.

you squeal and he gives your ass a firm slap making you yelp. "what a slut. y'ass is basically hanging out." you gasp at the delicious sting on your cheek. "fuck, I don't think I can wait." he hissed as his truck came into view.

unlocking his truck, he pushes you into the back-seat, grateful for his illegally tinted windows. and then his lips are on yours.

he's everywhere, all at once. hands grabbing whatever he can, wherever he can. thighs, cheeks, ass, tits. he's groaning into your mouth, tongue pushing past your lips and fighting with yours.

short, heavy breaths fill the vehicle. your flushed with need. a needy moan leaves your lips as rafe starts undulating his hips into yours. your hands snake to his belt. "I need you." you whisper against his mouth. he just hums and rolls his hips with more insistence into you, chasing his own pleasure. he clasps both your hand between his and puts them above you while his other hand continues groping your tits.

he trails his kisses down to your shoulder, nipping and sucking along the way. a particularly harsh suck has you hissing, knowing it would leave a mark. he bites the strap of your dress, pulling it down your shoulder. he does the same to the other side, his hands finding the zipper on the back of your dress, pulling it down.

your panties are drenched, sticking to you like a second skin. the friction of rafe's tip underneath his jeans, rubbing against your clit has you mewling in pleasure.

"I'm gonna cum" he snaps out of his horny daze and stops moving. he pulls his lips back but attempt to chase after him yet you fail. there's a string of saliva connecting the both of you together.

rafe fumbles with the buckle of his belt and leans over to open the centre console. he pulls out a condom, putting the edge of the wrapper between his teeth and tugging to rip the foil open while pulling himself out his boxers. you pull your own panties off, chucking them at rafe's face.

he rubs his tip along your folds before pushing in all the way. rafe looks at you to find you already staring up at him with doe eyes and your bottom lip between your teeth. a nod from you, and a roll of your hips is all he needs before he starts pumping in and out of you. fast.

it's not long before you hear the squelch of your pussy and the sound of skin slapping. "fuck. y'feel s'good, baby," rafe grunts out. a desperate, whimper escapes from your lips at his praise and you wall flutters around his thick cock. "y'like that, don't you?"

you let out a needy whine. "more." rafe flips the two of you over so that you're straddling him. one hand gripping your hip, the other grabbing handfuls of your ass as he starts fucking up into you.

rafe's focus goes down to your tits and the way they jiggle every time he slams his hips into yours. he brings his mouth down and starts sucking on your nipple and you choke on a moan.

he brings one hand down to your clit and starts rubbing, listening to the way you let out an unrestrained sob, the pleasure becoming too much.

"w-wait" you feel the familiar tightening in your stomach and squeeze if your pussy, trying your best to push yourself away.

"y'bout to come, hm?" you nod your head, getting a small, breathless "yes" out. "cum f'me, baby." you feel your body convulse as your orgasm washes over you, however, rafe keeps fucking into you chasing his high, finishing moments later.

[ryus3i]

✮⋆˙💋 WIPING AWAY THIER KISSES ✮⋆˙💋

{ RIN ITOSHI, SEISHIRO NAGI & ISAGI YOICHI } an: just a cute lil post, no warnings (if you enjoyed this lmk what you think :))

RIN ITOSHI

✮⋆˙ Rin genuinely gets upset at you and immediately goes into one of his moods.

A look of confusion flashes across Rin’s faces as he watches you wipe his kiss off his cheek. As far as he knew you loved his kisses so what’s with the look of disgust on your face.

“What was that for?” he questions his voice loud enough to pull your out of your book.

“What was what?” you say feigning ignorance. It had been a while since you had last riled up Rin and this little prank of yours was the perfect opportunity to get a rise out of him.

“You know what” he says sharply as he glares at you, his teals eyes not leaving you for even a second as he waits for your answer.

“Rin I seriously don’t know what your talking about”. It’s getting harder to hold back your grin as you watch Rin cross his arms and get up from his spot on the couch and go to the kitchen.

You roll your eyes playfully at your child of a boyfriend before putting your book down and making your way to the kitchen. You quickly spot Rin leaned against the counter with a water bottle in hand but he is quick to turn around in an attempt to avoid you.

“It’s just a prank you know” you say gently poking his back to get his attention on you again.

“I don’t like your stupid pranks” he grumbles out.

“I know and I’m sorry baby, I’m just messing with you”. You gently rub his back to try and get him to face you again.

Rin slowly turns around to face but it’s only a small accomplishment as his frown is still embedded into his face. You lean up and gently cup his face, smooshing his cheeks in your hands as you press your lips against his. You pull away with a “mwah” as Rin’s cheeks flare red and a shy look replaces his frown.

“Don’t do that prank again stupid” he says trying his best not to smile as he flicks your forhead.

SEISHIRO NAGI

✮⋆˙ Nagi is just confused, maybe you weren’t paying attention the first time, let him try again. After a long day of practice, Nagi just wanted to come home and cuddle up with you. A small wave of excitement went through him as he spotted you already lying in bed on your phone. You were practically ready for him, only one problem though, Nagi came straight home from practice, no shower no nothing he was too lazy for all that.

Dragging his feet to the bed Nagi leans down to kiss you but to his surprise, you don't kiss back. He closes his eyes a little tighter and kisses you a little harder hoping you'll accept his kiss. The only thing Nagi is met with is your hand pushing his head away so he goes in again. This time his lips just barely touch yours when your hand meets his face again before you quickly wipe your lips.

“Angel, why’d you wipe it?” he whines taking a seat on the bed close to you. “And why won’t you let me kiss you”?

“Sei you know how I feel about you coming home sweaty. How many times do I have tell you to shower at practice so you don’t have to at home?

“I know but I’m tired and I miss you,” he says shifting closer to you.

“I know baby but you have to shower first, you’re all sweaty and disgusting right now,” you say lifting yourself up with your hands now sitting up.

“Fine, just stay here” he grumbles getting off the making and making his way to the bathroom to shower.

When he returns from the shower he’s in a fresh pair of clothes and a small white towel hangs from his damp head. Nagi wastes no time climbing into bed with you, he quickly leans into you as you pat his hair dry, and gently kiss his head. When you’re done the two of you fall asleep arm in arm.

ISAGI YOICHI

✮⋆˙ Isagi is afraid, he tries to brush it off at first but it slowly eats him away.

This morning before practice Isagi followed every step of his routine including kissing you before he left the house for practice. Something that wasn’t part of his routine you immediately wiping the kiss away and quite aggressively as well. At first, he figured that it was early in the morning and maybe you were a bit grumpy, or maybe because you hadn’t brushed your teeth yet you didn’t want a kiss.

He tried to convince himself that it wasn’t a big deal but when he came home from practice and he leaned in to kiss you the same thing happened again. This time he knew something was up normally you would never say no to his kisses so something was definitely wrong. Did he do something wrong? Maybe he forgot to do the laundry or wash the dishes? He didn’t forget your anniversary did he, no he couldn’t have.

“Baby is something wrong” he hesitantly asks you from your spot in front of your vanity.

“No, why?” you ask feigning concern. Truthfully you felt a little bad pulling this type of prank on Isagi but you just wanted to see how he’d react.

“ I- well I noticed that you’ve kinda been brushing me off I guess, earlier you wiped off my kisses” he says nervously.

“Wiped off your kisses? What are you talking about, I would never”.

“No, I saw it you wiped them off right after”. You can hear the hurt in his voice so you decide to call it off immediately.

“I’m sorry baby, it was just supposed to be a prank,” you say quickly getting up to cup his face in your hands.

“Really, you’re not mad or anything?”

“No baby, I’m not” you say gently placing kisses over his face. It took a while and lots of kisses to fully convince him that you weren’t mad at all.

[sommerbueckers]

𝐍𝐨 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

➪ 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

______________________________________________________________

PAIGE MOVED QUICKLY to open my door, nearly tripping over her phone feet. I shook my head from behind her, covering my mouth with my hand as I got into the car. She flashed me a goofy smile before shutting my door, hurrying to the driver's side.

The night was warm and the tropical city of Orlando, Florida was buzzing with tourists all over. The car started up and Paige pulled into traffic, even the most frustrating situations seemed beautiful on vacation. I watched with big eyes at all the lights around the city; the fairy lights on the patios of restaurants, the taillights on cars, the bridge lights that illuminated the water below.

Everything was so perfect, including Paige.

She was dressed in a pair of white linen shorts with a pattern crochet button up, her blonde beach waves hanging down over her shoulders. As the night settled in, Paige removed her sunglasses from on top of her head and gently set them in the center console, her eyes briefly meeting mine for a moment before she looked away.

"What?" I raised my eyebrow, looking curiously.

"Nothing," she laughed, "I can't look at you?"

"You can," I shrugged, feeling a blush creeping onto my cheeks. If she asked, I'd blame the heat.

Paige smiled cheekily, biting her lip and looking out her window.

"You wanna get some ice cream?" she asked.

"Not ice cream...something cold though," I replied, thinking about an alternative.

"Frozen margaritas?"

"Yes! Holy shit," I breathed out, my eyes wide, "that sounds amazing right now."

"Calm down lil lady," Paige smirked.

"I can't," I said, "you just managed to make a perfect night even better, I didn't even think that was possible!"

"Tonight was perfect, huh?" she smiled warmly.

"Definitely. If you pulled out a ring right now, it'd be an automatic 'yes.'"

Gasping, Paige asked, "So it wasn't a 'yes' before the frozen margaritas?"

I shrugged, "A solid 'maybe.'"

"I'll remember that then," the blonde nodded.

"Remember what?"

"Your love for frozen margaritas," she said.

"Good."

After a beat of silence, I spoke again.

"But seriously, y'know i'll say 'yes' right?" I asked her.

"To?"

"To marrying you. I can't think of one reason why I wouldn't marry you, unless you've got like some deep dark secret that I don't know about," I explain.

"Hm," Paige nodded.

I frowned, "'Hm'? That's it?"

She laughed, but there was something off about it.

"What do you want me to say?" she smiled with furrowed eyebrows.

"I don't know...I just expected more than a 'hm' y'know?" I shrugged, mocking the way she said it.

She didn't respond at all that time, and when the car came to a stop at a red light, I slightly turned my body toward her. She raised her eyebrows expectantly, her eyes slowly looking me up and down before her tongue darted across her lips. I felt myself grow hot, the urge to relieve some tension building inside of me.

With a deep breath, I was able to clear my thoughts and refocus on the reason I had turned in the first place.

"You don't have anything else to say?" I asked.

"I don't know what you want me to say," she shrugged, "you said you'd marry me if I asked, what -- did you want me to do it now?"

"No," I tried to smile but the frown was obviously there as well, "I just thought you'd have something more to say, that's all."

"Well...I don't, i'm sorry."

"No, don't be sorry, you don't have anything to say, it's okay," I reassured, staring back out the window.

Was I overreacting? How did I expect her to respond to that anyway? I suppose I was half hoping she had a ring on standby, and maybe when I realized she didn't, I got upset? We've only been together for three years, and this was our first vacation alone together, I think I just got too excited, and the many couple drinks I had didn't help.

I heard Paige sigh from beside me as the light turned green, and she reached her hand forward to turn the radio down. Now, it was my turn to stare expectantly.

"I've actually been meaning to talk to you about something," she admitted.

"Okay...what is it?"

"It's about us."

The look on her face was one that made my stomach drop, one that made me want to crawl in a hole and not come out. It was one you'd give your partner during a breakup, a 'it's not you, it's me' look. I blinked silently for a few moments, scanning her face. I wanted to burn every detail of it into my mind; her lips, her eyes, her perfect nose. I loved Paige, and in case this was the last of our time spent together, I wanted to savor her.

I swallowed the lump in my throat before I responded, "Sounds serious," I laughed dryly.

"It is...sort of," she nodded.

"I'm listening..."

"I love you, so much, and I know you know that. It's why I bring you everywhere with me, I show you off on my socials, to my friends, my family," she started, emphasizing the word 'family.'

Immediately I knew where this conversation was headed. It was one Paige and I had had countless times; she wanted to meet my family, and I had yet to introduce her. In the three wonderful years that we had been together, she did indeed bring me along with her to every family gathering that she had. I had gone for Thanksgiving, Christmas, a period of our spring break, she even brought me along when she went to surprise Drew for his birthday. But not once, during all of that, had she even seen my parents' faces.

It was wrong, I knew it was, I just couldn't bring myself to admit it, much less do anything to change it. It was better this way, and Paige just couldn't understand that. I don't think she even tried.

"-but I still haven't met yours."

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, half listening to her talk and half trying to ignore her.

"Why're we talking about this again?" I sighed.

"Because we need to talk about it," she said, "You say you wanna get married and start a family but you're not even working with the one you already have. If we're gonna take our relationship to the next level, I have to meet your family."

"Why though?"

"Because! You know everything about my family and I know nothing about yours. That isn't weird to you?" she asked, not even giving me a chance to respond before she continued. "I wanna know where you grew up, I wanna know who you get your humor from, I wanna meet the niece you mentioned a couple months ago and then never brought her up again."

I shook my head, "I don't wanna talk about this Paige."

"Too fuckin' bad, this is my car and we're talking about it."

"This isn't your car, this is a rental that I paid for," I argued.

"I don't give a damn! You don't get to control what things we talk about and when we talk about them without giving me a say, that's not fair."

"No, what isn't fair is the fact that you're bringing this up for the hundredth time after I've already told you how I feel about it. That's what's not fair!" I shouted.

"Okay. So what -- i'm just supposed to never meet your family? Is your plan for us to get married and just not invite them, or do they have to watch from a separate room that i'm not in?" Paige asked, completely shutting the radio off.

"Oh my God!" I laughed stiffly, "Why does it even matter if you meet them or not?!"

"Because it feels like you're hiding me!"

"I am not hiding you!"

"Then what the fuck is the problem?! You said they know you're gay, you said they don't care, so why can't I meet them?"

"Because I just don't fucking want you to! Why can't you respect that?!" I frowned.

"Why can't you respect the fact that i'm not marrying you until I meet your family?!" she yelled.

I sunk back in my seat, my lips screwed shut as I thought about her words. Keeping Paige separate from my family had been the best decision for me us, and it was one that I chose had to make on my own. I loved my family, but I had grown up with them and I was used to the way they acted, to the comments they'd make and the opinions they had. After coming out to them, despite their reassurance that they didn't care, I had made a promise to myself that whoever I married would never have to deal with them.

But now here I was, sitting next to the only person I had ever considered marrying with that very promise about to ruin everything. She didn't understand, and I wasn't sure she ever would. I wondered if there was someone out there that wouldn't mind not meeting my family, perhaps I could start over with someone else and make up some sob story about how I don't talk to them anymore. As I looked over at my girlfriend, at the only person who had ever made me feel loved even in the times where I didn't love myself, I couldn't even imagine trying to find someone else.

We were silent the whole way back to the airbnb, our desire for frozen margaritas long forgotten in the midst of our anger. Paige pulled into the driveway and I hopped out the car, storming back into the house. There was so much tension between us and I was wasn't sure I'd be able to handle it all night. We changed in the same room, and I hadn't even bothered to sneak a glance at her. We didn't brush our teeth together, we didn't reminisce on the day or share our excitement for tomorrow, we just stormed around in silence.

The familiar pair of curious blue eyes were missing as I did my face routine that night, and I tried and failed miserably to find peace doing it alone. With the door shut and the faucet running, I cried. I cried until I couldn't see the sink in front of me, I cried until I could feel how swollen my eyes had gotten, until my head ached so violently that I had to take a seat on the tub because I couldn't physically stand the pain in my chest. I loved Paige with my entire heart and I couldn't lose her, I wouldn't.

I didn't know how long I had been in there, but when I came out, I found the house to be empty. I poked my head into the living room hoping she'd be watching the NBA finals on tv, but she wasn't there and had seemingly abandoned the game during the fourth quarter. Our bed was empty, still neatly made from this morning when we had left for the day. She wasn't by the pool either and after walking around to the front of the house to check the driveway, I noticed the car was gone. I could feel my anger rising again, how could she just leave without saying anything?

We were mad at each other and we hadn't worked things out yet. What if something happened to her and I never got to tell her I was sorry, that if she truly wanted to meet my family then i'd do my best to make it happen. What if something happened to me? What if someone saw her leave and was now watching me stand there alone and vulnerable. I quickly turned on my heel, jogging to the backyard and reentering the house. I grabbed my phone to see if she had left me a message, she hadn't. It wasn't like her to up and leave like this, and she knew my rule about going to bed upset, so I stayed up.

I sat cross legged on the couch, watching the remainder of the game and making a mental note on who won. A shark movie came on afterward, and I leaned lazily against the back of the couch as the intro played. About fifteen minutes went by before I heard the garage door open and close, Paige emerging from the hall with a drink holder in her hand. She set it down on the counter and then looked at me. Her face softened quickly, and she grabbed one of the cups before pushing off of the counter to make her way over to the couch.

"Where did you go?" I asked quietly.

She sat down beside me and held out the cup, a straw was taped to the side of it.

"To get this," she answered.

"What is that?"

"Try it," she urged me, opening the straw and stabbing the top of the cup, "you''ll like it."

I pulled my knees to my chest and rested one arm against the top of the couch while I grabbed the cup with the other, carefully taking a sip. I bit back the radiant smile that fought its hardest to pull through.

A frozen margarita.

"I'm sorry," she sighed tiredly, "for yelling at you and for telling you that I wouldn't marry you until I met your family." I didn't respond because I knew there was more. "But you have to understand it from my perspective. I feel like i'm missing an entire part of you, your culture, your traditions, all your little habits and stuff, I wanna know where they come from. You never talk about your family, like sometimes I wonder if they even exist. Like maybe you were made in a lab or some shit," she said.

I shook my head with a small smirk.

"I just wanna know why."

I could tell Paige wasn't gonna drop this, and if I was being honest with myself, she did deserve a better reason other than me just not wanting her to meet them. I set the margarita down on the coffee table and scooted closer to her.

"I want you to meet my family, I do...it's just -- I don't want you to know them. They do know i'm gay and they said that it doesn't bother them but, I see otherwise on their faces. Whenever i'd bring it up or introduce my other girlfriends to them there'd be this weird tension in the room and I just knew it was because of me. They don't particularly care but they don't like it either."

Paige nodded, "So...they're homophobic?"

"Sort of. But not like 'kick me out the house' homophobic but..." my voice trailed off as I shrugged.

"More like 'don't acknowledge it and it'll go away' homophobic."

"Exactly," I nodded.

Paige leaned back against the couch and shut her eyes, blowing out a frustrated breath as she took everything in.

"Paige, my favorite thing to do is show you off, and I don't want you to think for a second that i'm hiding you from anybody, because i'm not. I just don't want you to have to sit through a -- a dinner or a family gathering and deal with the shit that I had to deal with growing up, it's not fun."

"I know, I know," she said, "and thank you for trying to protect me like that."

"But?" I raised an eyebrow.

"But, someone's gotta walk you down the aisle, right?" she smirked.

I gently hit her shoulder, "Paige! This is serious, you wanted to talk about this."

"Alright, alright!" she raised her hands in defense, and when our laughter died down she spoke again, "If you don't want me to meet your family then...I won't push you any further."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Okay," I breathed out, "thank you. I promise you will meet them, just not right now."

Paige smiled up at me, and I could see the faint hint of doubt that her eyes still held, but there was nothing I could do about it now. I wasn't ready for her to meet my family yet, and for right now she'd just have to be okay with that.

______________________________________________________________

A/N: here's a little smth cus im on vacation right now. this idea honestly came up because last night my brother said he wouldn't come on vacation anymore if i brought a girl with us and my mom js made a joke about the girl being paige and idk, made me kinda sad.

but thanks to them i conjured this up😏 so you're welcome!

[andreawritesit]

Law taking care of Sick!reader. Like he got scared cuz he starts remembering if Flevance incident and afraid of losing his girlfriend

Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Reader

Word Count: 804

Warnings: Mentions of: death, sickness, and violence.

Another cough jolted Law out of his sleep. He rubbed his eyes and sat up in the couch. His eyes directly turned toward you, lying on the bed, covered in blankets. He ran up to you and sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling your forehead for any signs of the fever returning.

You and Law had been happy for a long time. So much so that he began wondering when things would go downhill. Trafalgar Law's life was many things but happy wasn't one of them. But ever since he had met you, he had found himself smiling more. You had become the one source of light in his otherwise abyss of a life. He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. Of course his happiness hadn't lasted. A few days ago, you had suddenly started shivering out of nowhere, you cheeks turning red. His devil fruit had helped with your fever and your coughs but for some reason, he couldn't decipher the nature of your illness. And without knowing the cause, he couldn't cure you. So here you lied, in his bed, sick and exhausted.

He pressed a feather light kiss to your forehead which stirred you out of your sleep.

"Law? Are you awake?"

"Of course I am. If I sleep, who will take care of you?"

A small laugh escaped your lips and you gazed at him with love in your eyes. You truly were lucky to have him by your side. Law wasn't an easy person to get along with. He was very closed off and rarely spoke to others. But you had finally managed to unravel the walls he had so meticulously built around himself and you found the most beautiful, most gentle heart at the center of it all. He let you see his heart, he gave it to you and you also vowed to take care of it with your life. The relationship you two had built over the course of last two years was one of utmost trust and love.

"You know, I wouldn't mind dying right now, by your side."

His eye twitched at your words and gave you a stern glare.

"Don't you dare. Don't you dare say that again. You will not die. I won't let you."

How could he? How could he let her fade away like this? No. He had already lost way too much. What would Corazon think if he couldn't protect her? He would be disappointed. Surely. You coughed again and for the first time in years, Law's mind flashed with images of people he had thought he had forgotten. His sick sister, lying in the bed. Lami. How she had suffered! His parents-taken from him so ruthlessly. Suddenly, his mind began replaying the scenes from this distant memory. He could see people coughing and crying...

Flavence was a nightmare he had repressed deep into his mind. Or so he had thought. The sound of your coughs were pushing him back into the endless pit of despair he had so mercilessly crawled out of, atop the dead bodies of his friends. How could he think he had escaped that hell? No. The hell lived. Inside him. Sweat began forming on his forehead as he tried so hard to erase the images from his mind.

Cough.

Shot.

Death.

Fire.

"Law"

Cough.

Death.

"Law!"

White.

Dead.

Shot dead.

"LAW!"

Your scream dragged him out of his memories and his head whipped toward you. You were leaning over the bed, trying to reach for the glass of water on the side table, tears running down your eyes.

He quickly handed you the glass and rubbed your back slowly as you drank it.

"I'm so sorry. I don't know what happened to me..." he said, wiping your tears.

"You were trembling. Are you alright, Law?"

"I am. I'm fine. It's just... Forget it. I'll bring you a draught to help with the coughs." He got up to leave but you dragged him back down.

"No. Tell me. What happened?"

"Nightmares. I thought I left them behind."

"Flavence?"

He nodded and leaned his head onto your shoulder. You ran your fingers through his hair. You knew how much his past terrified him still. He tried so hard to seem unbothered but you knew, you knew he was still the scared little boy, running for his life.

"Law, listen to me. You're ok. And I will be too. I will get better. I won't die."

"I won't let you. I can't..."

You leaned your head on top of his, holding his hand tightly. He squeezed your hand and closed his eyes. He was going to save you. He wouldn't let you become a part of his nightmare. You were his sweet dream, his beautiful reality. He wouldn't let you go...

[samuelsdean]

Stay With Me

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary:  "you’ve been shot countless times, huh?” “that sounded a bit more reassuring in my head.”

genre: angst & fluff

word count: 1.1k

author's notes: almost a year of no writing, but i'm finally home (i posted a new fic)! it's been one hectic year for me. uni was crazy & i started my clinical rotations. plus, i did my thesis & it even got a distinction mark so i'll be presenting it at a research congress pretty soon (yay!). with that, i'm really sorry for ghosting ao3 & tumblr. i couldn't find the time to insert it in between uni & breaking down lol. anyway, i'll be posting a lot more while i'm on break. i hope you'll enjoy reading my first fic after a year of zzz. have fun!

YOU CAN HEAR SIRENS AND PEOPLE SHOUTING.

They say when you are knocking on death’s door, hearing is the last of your senses you will lose. If you’re dying, you don’t know it. Nothing makes sense at the moment. It’s all just blurry hues of blues and reds and shouting—Stay with me—the smell of something metallic. The only thing you’re sure of right now is that your head hurts and it seemed like a van ran right through you with how achy your body feels right now. 

Who’s  that? You mused. Why are they yelling at me?  I’m  right here. You turned your head slightly and tried to open your eyes.

It’s quite the task.

“T-That’s it,” The person, whom you think was yelling at you, said. “Stay with me, Y/N. Don’t close your eyes.”

You groaned and gripped the person's hand tightly as if to stand up, but you couldn't. Everything ached. And the person holding you, just kept on talking, their voice a low murmur at first. But even through the haze of pain, it was starting to sound familiar. You recognized that dulcet tone, the rich, smooth sound that could captivate your attention with random facts or lull you to sleep with equal ease.

The voice, you realized with a flicker of a smile, belonged to Spencer, its familiar cadence a warm current cutting through the blossoming pain.

“Reid?” You croaked.

Your throat’s dryer than any other desert in existence right now. And you sound worse than you look—you think—you don’t know for sure, except the fact that you can’t move much.

“It’s me,” Spencer chuckled while sniffling. “I’m right here.”

“What’s going on?”

Even through the haze of pain, a new wave of discomfort bloomed in your shoulder, sharp and insistent. Before you could react and get up, Spencer's hand tightened on yours, his voice laced with a tremor you'd never heard before. "Don't move, Y/N. You've been shot."

He applied pressure on your wound—which you just noticed. The pain hit you in a delayed wave, a white-hot stab that stole your breath. You hissed a weak sound that did little to mask the spike in your heart rate. 

"Stop moving or you're gonna bleed out even more!" Spencer's voice, usually so calm and collected, was laced with a raw panic you'd never heard before.

"Easy there, tiger," you tried to joke, your voice raspy. "I've been through worse. I’ve been shot countless times. W-why are you so worried?"

The question came out in a shaky whisper, the concern evident in his voice a stark contrast to the usual intellectual debates you shared.

Spencer's grip tightened, momentarily cutting off your circulation. "Because you could have died, Y/N!" he snapped, his voice cracking with a choked sob. "You… you were…"

He trailed off, unable to put into words the terrifying image that had flashed before him when he saw you collapse, after hearing the sound of a bullet whizzing by and hitting you.

The sight of your vulnerability stripped away his usual composure, leaving a raw fear he couldn't conceal. It took him a moment to regain his composure, his voice softening as he continued, "You shouldn't be so glib about this. It was a nasty shot, close to a major artery."

Despite the pain, a warmth bloomed in your chest. You'd never seen Spencer like this, so shaken and afraid.

"Okay," you murmured, forcing a weak snicker. “I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, at least I got you to patch me up, right, Dr.Reid?"

A ghost of a smile glinted across his face, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Hold still," he mumbled, amused but also bothered at your dreadful timing for jokes. He applied pressure more gently this time. "You’ve been shot countless times, huh?”

“That sounded a bit more reassuring in my head” You quipped. 

A bit lightheaded from the pain, you clutched Spencer’s hand. The shriek of approaching sirens and the glare of headlights cut through the haze. You struggled to focus on the lifeline thrown in a storm of confusion.

"They're here," Spencer said, his voice tight. A sheen of sweat beaded on his forehead, a stark contrast to his usual cool composure.

"About time," you rasped, trying to lighten the mood. The effort cost you a fresh wave of dizziness, the world tilting slightly on its axis.

To which, Spencer shot you a look that was half-annoyed, half-worried. "Don't try to be a hero. You're losing a lot of blood. Any movement can dislodge the clot forming in your wound, renewing the bleeding. So, stop moving!"

"Just keeping things interesting," you mumbled, the words slurring slightly. “Wouldn’t want my last moments here on earth to be so grim…”

Spencer's jaw clenched for a moment, then he sighed, the sound heavy with relief. "You always were a pain," He muttered, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You’re  going to be okay, he thought.

The sirens reached a fever pitch, pulling up right beside you. A flurry of activity erupted as paramedics swarmed, the rest of the team trying to make sure you were tended to and that you were going to be okay, their movements a bit panicked but practiced, and efficient. Relief washed over you, a sweet wave that threatened to pull you under. 

"Hold on, Y/N," Spencer said, his voice desperate despite the composure of his words. He kept his hand pressed firmly on your wound, his touch a grounding anchor in the chaos. “Help is here. Everyone’s here. Just… stay with me, okay?"

"Going somewhere," you slurred, your eyelids drooping.

"No, you're not," he said fiercely, his voice barely a whisper above the shouts of the paramedics. "You're coming with us."

You coughed a sharp rasp that sent a jolt of pain through your shoulder. "Stats say shoulder wounds aren't usually fatal," you wheezed, trying to distract yourself from the ache.

Spencer's hand stilled for a moment, looking at you like you’ve grown a second head. "What?"

"Yeah," you continued, your voice weak but persistent. "L-look, I get it, you're scared. But statistically, shoulder wounds aren't as serious..." Your voice trailed off as a wave of nausea washed over you.

"Maybe you shouldn't be reciting medical statistics right now," Spencer said sharply, his voice laced with a hint of panic.

“S-shouldn’t that be my line, boy genius?” You continued to joke, as the world dissolved into a scramble of flashing lights and blurry faces.

The last thing you registered was the feel of Spencer's hand tightening around yours, his touch a silent promise that resonated louder than any siren.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

I know your requests are closed so feel free to ignore this but if I don’t type it somewhere I WILL forget it lol. I’ve been re-binge reading your works and just thought of this…

Civilian reader kills someone out of self defense for the first time. And it’s the whole staring at her bloody shaking hands panic attack what have I done fiasco. And her boyfriend or husband helping her through it and dealing with it all (I can see it with Ghost or Price idk)

But yeah feel free to ignore, I know your requests are closed rn

Love your work! You are so talented!

This has been in my inbox for so long, lmao. Sorry for not answering right away - take a few paragraphs w. soft, worried, Simon in compensation.

Warnings for gore, death, blood, panic attack, etc. F!Reader.

Your body shakes violently, blood dripping down like crimson tears from your hands. The overwhelming sense of dread sits with bullet fragment aggression in the delicate make-up of your psyche.

You weren't meant for this.

Not the blood or the terror. Certainly not the body laying out in the hallway.

"Oh, fuck," you gasp out, shuddering as your throat swells in on itself. Your form had slipped down the wall just across from the door not minutes prior, legs weak and heart pounding like a war call. Now all you can do is stare into the vacant eyes of some random burglar—at the knife you'd stuck in his chest when he'd backed you into Simon's office.

It was a miracle that you remembered where your husband's combat blade had been, seen on some off chance when you'd been cleaning. He tries to keep this all separate, you know.

The blood just keeps slipping out of the corpse. It's a pool now, and you don't know how long you'd been huddled like this until the sounds of rampaging feet and hurried yells of your name bounce off your eardrums.

All you can see is the uncleanable amount of red.

Simon had only gone out to the corner store half an hour ago, getting a quick supper so you both could sit in each other's company. You'd been hesitant to watch him leave so soon after getting home, but he'd sworn he'd only be a few minutes.

None of you had thought too much about the local break-ins. After all, Simon was...well, Simon. And he was home.

S-Simon was home.

There's a loud, barked, curse when the body is discovered, stomping feet that make the entire house shake like it was the epicenter of an earthquake. Your husband's form slashes the front of your vision as he kneels in the blood on the floor. Frantic brown eyes behind his balaclava snap from place to place; taking in the familiar handle and blade in nanoseconds. In his left hand he clutches a pistol, white-knuckled.

But you can't even say anything, because you're as still as stone—breathing in concrete as the gravel shreds your vocal cords and trachea. Reality slips in quick streaks of color as Simon's face flashes into the open doorway.

He sees your wide eyes with a mirroring of his own, bone-deep fear striking in his head with a heated pulse.

"Love!" Simon's rushing to you. Your body can't help but startle back, spine shoving into the wall; fingers still saturated and stained.

Inside your chest, your lungs jerk in a strained whimper.

Your husband freezes, one foot ahead with his widened legs as he fights his mind to rush to you and take you into his arms. Simon puts the gun away with little thought to look for more assailants—all that matters is you.

And you looked terrified.

"Hey," hands reach up to this balaclava, slipping the fabric off as he kneels down slowly to one leg. He tosses it to the floor and you try to focus on the strength of his jaw; those scars and pale hairs as your eyes well with tears. A delicate sob builds. "Hey, now. It's just me, alright?"

Simon speaks softly, hands splayed out and a few feet from you. He wishes to hold you tightly but refrains even as his chest tightens at not being able to calm you. The man can't stand that look on your face.

Your fingers curl into shivering fists, "Simon," you cry, finally able to get a solid word out even if it sounds slurred and ragged.

It's all the permission your husband needs.

Simon jerks forward and takes you up into his large arms; the wide encompassing of his palm on the back of your head and the other circling your waist. He angles you away from the body as he glares into it with hatred and vile curses, hissing venom.

When he found the door busted off its hinges, he'd never felt so panicked. Even now as you release a small wail into his neck Simon's heart races, breath coming in short puffs.

"You're alright, Sweetheart. You're alright. I'm right 'ere." You sag into him, grabbing at his leather jacket with nails digging into the brown material. Simon nuzzles his nose into your scalp, muscles tense, "Breathe, it's over."

All you can focus on is Simon's scent, his words. They're the only thing keeping you from oblivion. Eventually, as your husband rocks you back and forth, you can gasp enough air down to push away the black at the sides of your vision.

"That's right," he whispers, gritting his teeth. "Good girl, keep focusin' on me, yeah? You're doin' perfect." Simon doesn't care about the blood or the screams of sirens in the distance.

For the first time in his life, he doesn't care if someone else happens to see his face.

Your husband pulls his head back and shifts his hold to your cheeks, angling your runny and chilled face upwards. He grits his teeth and his eyes bleed with concern; fear.

"...He do anything?" You can only make out half the words as the sounds all huddle together in a ringing tone, but you shake your head in small flinches. Lips find your forehead—heated and firm. Muttered words. "Did so good, Love, I'm so proud of you. S'not your fuckin' fault, you hear?"

Sniffling, you only whimper once more before lips kiss away your tears; thumbs coming up after to swipe at the remnants. Curling over you, this beast—defined so often as ruthless and deadly—shields you from the image of the man you'd killed in self-defense like a demon of smoke and ash. Holding you as if he can make everything else disappear.

After all, you weren't meant for this. You were meant for your soft skin and your loving eyes. Everything else that Simon tied himself to you for—goodness.

"Simon," you gasp again and shove your face into his chest. For the life of you, you can't say anything else. He knows what you mean.

"I'm here," he repeats. Caressing the back of your head, his hand tenses and softens with leaving adreanaline. "Nothin'll happen to you again. It's all gonna be alright."

You believe him.

[glorystark]

Empty eyes | Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean doesn't take Charlie's death too well and because of the Mark of Cain affecting him, he tells you things that will regret.

Warnings: moc!Dean Winchester, Dean being a dick, minor mentions of injury, swearing, ANGST, major character's death

Pairing: Dean Winchester × reader

Featuring: Sam Winchester

Word count: 2,3k

We watched in agony as Charlie's body, wrapped around a white sheet, burned in the flames. This should never have happened to her kind soul. She died so we could save Dean. I couldn't help but feel guilty; my heart ached because I lost a friend, again. I knew Sam felt the same. We both asked Charlie for help with the Book of the Damned, and we both lied to Dean about the book being destroyed. Now it was too late to make things right. Memories flashed through my eyes, making me tear up. I remembered when she helped us with the Dick situation, or when I taught her some hunter-kind-of-tricks. How happy she was and wouldn't stop thanking me. She didn't deserve this, anyone but her.

“Charlie,” Sam started, grabbing my and probably Dean's attention. “We are gonna miss you. You're the best.” He stopped when his voice cracked, and now I was sure he felt far worse than me because looking back, he suggested not telling Dean about the Book of the Damned not being destroyed, which I didn't agree with at first. But seeing Dean, my Dean, slowly fade away right in front of my eyes changed my opinion. Maybe it was selfish, me and Sam both were. But we couldn't let Dean become something he fears, a Monster. We couldn't lose another person, another family member, but we didn't realize who we were putting in danger on this path.

“We love you, Charlie, and I'm so sorry,” I said, blinking through tears.

“Shut up,” Dean said coldly, making Sam and me look at him. “You got her killed. You don't get to apologize.” He continued.

“Dean-“ Sam started, but Dean cut him off.

“You too, you two are the reason she is dead,” he said, not taking his eyes off the flames.

“We were trying to help you,” I said, still looking at him.

“I didn't need help,” he said bitterly. "I told you to leave it alone.”

“What were we supposed to do, just watch you die?” Sam asked, not letting me be the only one receiving the cold tone from his older brother.

“The mark isn't gonna kill me.”

“Maybe not, but when it's done with you, you won't be you anymore,” I stated. “Dean, you're all we got. So of course we were gonna fight for you because that's what we do,” I said softly.

“Yeah, she's right, we had a shot-“ Sam was cut off again by Dean.

“Yeah, you had a shot. Charlie is dead.” He finally turned his head to look at me and his brother, who was standing next to me. His dark emerald eyes bore into mine, and I couldn't recognize them. Never have I ever seen him look at me with those eyes. Because no matter how much crap we went through, he always made sure I was fine, and his eyes held nothing but sweetness and, on most occasions, worry. “Nice shot.”

“Are you even listening to me? You think I'm ever gonna forgive myself for that?!” I snapped, not being able to keep my voice down anymore. He is grieving, but so am I. If I could, I would trade places with her.

“You know what I think,” he started, still with the same voice tone. “I think it should be you up there and not her.”

I felt my heart break for the hundredth time today. I parted my lips, not taking my teary eyes off him, which clearly showed how hurt I was. Sam let out a small gasp and widened his eyes after he heard Dean's words, clearly not expecting his brother to go that far.

I knew he blamed me, probably even more than Sam. But knowing that he wanted me dead hurt more than any physical torture I've experienced.

Sam called his name, still shocked after what he heard, but his brother just walked away, breaking my heart more and more.

—————

It has been a week since I lost Charlie, since I lost my Dean. He has been searching for the Stynes ever since but has been having a bit of trouble finding their location. So meanwhile, he went on a few solo hunts. He hasn't said a word to me and to Sam, just a few like ‘buy some beers’ ‘did you find anything about the Stynes’.

He found another hunt for today and was packing his bag in his own room. We both haven't stepped in our shared room ever since the accident, which meant we weren't even sleeping on the same bed. I'm done with being ignored, so I knocked on his door and opened it without waiting for any response. He didn't even turn around, probably knowing it was me.

“Dean,” I called his name, not even knowing what I wanna talk about, but getting him to look at me was the first step. “Dean,” I called, this time louder, and when he still didn't turn around, I walked towards him and grabbed his arm. “Alright, I'm done. When will you finally stop ignoring me?!”

He looked at my hand, which was grabbing his arm, and slowly turned around, finally looking at my face. “I'm not ignoring you, I just don't want to talk to you or be near you,” he said bitterly, pulling his arm away and reaching for his door.

“Dean, you know you're not the only one who lost someone, okay? And believe me, I know it's my fault she's gone, and I'll never forgive myself for that. But, god, you're practically killing me. I miss you,” I said desperately, waiting for something in his eyes to change, waiting for him to embrace me in his strong arms, but... Nothing. His eyes didn't even hold hatred anymore, just emptiness.

“I don't know what you expect me to say, ‘I'm sorry you were so stupid’ ‘I'm sorry you got another person killed off’ ‘I'm sorry you're so fucking useless’ Huh?! Is that what you want me to say? You want me to feel sorry for you?!” he yelled, showing the anger and darkness in his eyes while he harshly slammed me to the wall, making me whimper slightly. His words cut deep into my skin, but I tried my best to ignore them, knowing this Dean wasn't really my Dean.

“I want you to understand, I want you to know that I'm sorry. I want you to tell me that we're gonna go through this like we always do,” I said softly, looking deeply into his eyes, trying to crack him.

He let out a dark chuckle and grasped my shoulders, lowering his head to be on the same height level with me. “You want me to tell you that we're gonna go through this? Well, baby, in that way, I'd be a big liar.”

“Dean, me and Sam, we are so close to saving you. Please, just don't let the mark control you,” I begged, feeling small under his touch.

“I don't want nor need you two saving me, and believe me, at this very moment, I'm trying to not let the mark control me, so don't provoke me,” he whispered against my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

"I thought you trusted me.”

“Well, that trust was destroyed when you got someone who was like a sister to me killed. Have you ever noticed how many innocent people died because you were being too stupid?” he said harshly.

"We all have made mistakes, Dean," I said, as I thought about the hunts where innocent people died, and I couldn't save them. I didn't want Dean to know how much his words were affecting me, but, god, I felt like a crumpled paper.

“Seems like that's the only thing you ever do,” he smirked, letting his eyes fall on the floor again before looking up at my eyes again. “Tell me, how does it feel knowing you don't mean anything to anybody and you're just a burden in our lives? How does it feel knowing nobody loves you?”

That's it. That was the punch line to make me break into tears.

“Y-you love me, you said that before.”

“You know I lie to get laid,” he said, smirking, proud of his response.

My heart was racing more and more, and I felt nauseous.

“Dean, please-“

“You're nothing, do you hear me? Nothing!” he grabbed my cheeks harshly. “Your existence doesn't matter. You.don't.matter.” he said, spitting the words out before letting me go. He took his bag and walked out of the room, not even glancing at me. I slid down the wall as I started sobbing silently.

Then I heard a buzz from my phone.

New message from Sammy:

“Y/N, Dean just said he found a hunt, probably three to four werewolves, and he told me to go with him. I was really surprised but didn't question him. I think he's getting better. I'll also talk to him on the road. Next time, he'll definitely ask you too, just like old times. Don't stay up and don't worry; we got this :) love you.”

He asked Sam to go, but not me. If he hadn't told me that he hated me a few minutes ago, I'd think he was worried. But if it was really 3 or 4 werewolves, there's nothing to be worried about. He just wants to stay away from me. He told me I was a burden to them; he'll probably throw me out of the bunker soon.

Dark thoughts ran through my mind, and suddenly a rush of anxiety ran through me. What if there were more than a few werewolves? What if they get hurt? What if Dean hates me even more?

I checked Sam's message again and saw that he sent me the address of where the werewolves' location is and where the hunt would probably take place. I quickly rushed to my room, grabbed my car keys, and went to drive to the location.

—————

I was hiding behind some of the trees in the forest, watching as each of the boys fought one werewolf, two already dead ones on the floor.

Everything seemed good so far; I mean, their guns were on the floor, but they were fighting each werewolf single handed and there was no need for me to make my presence known. The boys were winning as always. And that's when I realized they don't really need me in their life. I knew the words that came out of Dean's mouth tonight weren't really Dean's, my Dean. But he was somehow right; before I became the hunter I am today, I made many mistakes. Some were small, and some led to people getting hurt or even killed. I also put their lives in danger multiple times because I was being reckless. Finding the demons that killed my parents blinded my vision. I was ready to get back to the bunker when I saw both of the werewolves giving up until I noticed something.

A werewolf close to Sam's back, and it seemed like none of the brothers noticed him. I searched for my gun but remembered I forgot it in the backseat of my car. I cursed under my breath and did the only thing possible right now to save Sam. I couldn't let Dean lose another person, especially his brother, who I knew meant the world to him. I couldn't put him through something like that again when there's a chance to save the younger Winchester.

So I ran towards Sam, trying my best to not slip because of the woods on the floor. The Werewolf was close, and nobody noticed him. I'm not the only stupid one after all. The boys turned their heads to me for a slight second, surprised at my presence, but didn't stop fighting the other werewolves.

Until I pushed Sam away from the werewolf he was fighting onto the floor. He seemed confused at first, until he saw it. I assumed Dean did too but couldn't be too sure since he was behind me. I let out an agonizing scream when the werewolf grazed his claws into my stomach and the other one, which Sam was fighting before, grazed his claws into my back before my lifeless body fell on the floor. Dean didn't hesitate more seconds before getting his gun from the floor and shooting all the werewolves.

I was bleeding like a waterfall from my body and my mouth. But the good thing is-

I didn't feel any pain, or anything in that matter…

Dean Winchester’s Pov:

No no no.

This can't be happening.

It's all a nightmare, just another stupid nightmare.

I heard Sam's crying voice telling the love of my life, his best friend, to wake up, holding her torn apart body in his arms, asking her why she pushed him away. But there was no answer.

It's a nightmare happening in real life.

Her beautiful y/e/c are open but so empty, unrecognizable.

I stood over her body, not being able to move from my spot.

There is so much blood everywhere.

Her blood.

This is hell.

No, I’ve been to hell and it's worse than hell.

I started tearing up more and more, reality hitting me more every second.

I let out an angry scream and fell on my knees when I remembered my last words to her.

“You're nothing, do you hear me? Nothing! Your existence doesn't matter. You.don't.matter.”

She wasn't nothing, she was my everything.

She mattered, she was the reason I kept going, now she's gone and it's all my fault.

All my fault.

All of the words I said came back to me, making my chest hurt.

As I knelt beside her lifeless body, surrounded by the aftermath of our shattered world, I whisper into the silent abyss, "I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so sorry."

And deep down I felt the Mark laughing…

[sadslay]

- BASOREXIA ⋆☆ 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

(n.) the overwhelming desire, or sudden urge, to kiss someone.

warnings — set during s1 ep6, very short (sorry), light nsfw content

daryl hadn’t known you for long, no more then a few weeks at most but in the short time he had known you, he felt as though he’d known you for years. thanks to not only his brother’s judgements but also his own, he believed you to be some entitled snob that would never looked twice in his direction. his jaw had just about hit the ground when he had discovered you had both grown up in the same neighbourhood, even went to the same community school before him and merle had moved away.

he could never describe the way he felt around you. daryl had always understood he was never smart, not in the ways that mattered or not in the ways that would impress you but he was sure - so goddamn sure - that were was a word or two to describe the way he’d felt about you in the short time he had come to know you. the word daryl was searching for - but would never find - was basorexia.

sitting on a countertop behind a rounded table, watching the others cheer and pour drinks brought a sense of familiarity to you. it reminded you of a simpler time. you focused on lori and rick as they playfully bickered on weather or not their son should try some of the red wine dale was serving, but daryl - who sat beside you, nursing a bottle of beer- was entirely focused on you. the way you looked under the white led lighting of the cdc bunker and the way you giggled as carl pushed away the small cup of wine he had just tried. everything you did was perfect in his eyes, absolutely everything.

“you gonna share that bottle dixon?” you queried, gently nudging into his shoulder as you flashed him cheeky grin.

daryl let out a breathy chuckle, not saying a word before handing you the brown bottle, watching you intently as you brought the bottle up to your lips.

“you should stick to soda pop kid.” shane mumbled as daryl stood up to walk around the table, in hopes to secure another bottle as the current one had almost run out.

“not you glenn.” daryl smiled - that was one of the first times you had seen him genuinely smile - leaning in to grab another bottle before teasing, “keep drinkin’ little man, i wanna see how red your face can get.”

“it seems to me we haven't thanked our host properly.” rick spoke, standing up to look at the man who had reluctantly let us in an hour or so prior.

“he is more than just our host.” t-dog smiled, raising his glass of red wine.

“booyah!” daryl cheered, raising a bottle of spirits into the air before sitting back down beside you, offering you a sip of the new liquor.

you placed the empty bottle of beer beside you before taking the bottle what you assumed was whiskey and cheering, “booyah!” before taking a swig.

“so when are you gonna tell us what the hell happened here, doc?” shane asked, breaking the cheers and thanks coming from around the room, and almost instantly everyone fell quiet. “all the ah the other doctors that were supposed to be figuring out what happened, where are they?” he asked, looking at the lone scientist.

“we're celebrating, shane.” rick answered quickly, sitting back down beside his son. “don't need to do this now.” he added.

“whoa, wait a second. this is why we're here, right?” shane asked rhetorically, looking at rick before continuing. “this was your move, supposed to find all the answers but instead we uh we found him.” shane explained, his very tome and expression seeming on edge and untrusting. “found one man. why?”

“well, when things got bad, a lot of people just left. went off to be with their families and when things got worse, when the military got overrun, the rest bolted.” the scientist explained, the entire mood shifting.

“every last one?” shane asked sarcastically.

“no, many couldn't face walking out the door. they... opted out. there was a rash of suicides. that was a bad time.” the scientist continued, his voice shaky as he explained the fate of the cdc.

“you didn't leave. why?” andrea asked, placing her half empty glass of wine onto the crowded table.

“i just kept working. hoping to do some good.” he explained.

“dude, you are such a buzzkill, man.” glenn groaned, looking at shane as he slumped back into his chair.

later that night, after every had begun settling in for the night you found yourself lying awake in a sleeping bag a meter or so away from glenn. your hair was still damp from the warm shower you had no more then an hour prior. you pulled yourself up from the sleeping bag, wrapping your arms around your chest before wandering out into the hallway to find all but one light left on. daryls room. the door had been left open, allowing you to lean up against the doorframe as you watched daryl pull a clean shirt over his head and shoulders before noticing the brown bottle by the head of his sleeping bag.

“still hoggin’ the bottle huh dixon?” you giggled, causing daryl to spin around as the rest of his shirt fell down his torso.

he weakly scoffed as his eyes traced up and down your body, most of your legs exposed from the shorts you had found in some drawers while a baggy shirt hid most of your figure.

“d’yer reckon we could find the rest of ‘is stash?” you asked eagerly, looking up at daryl as a breathy chuckle fell from his lips.

“nah, yer cut off woman.” he chortled, as you walked further into his room “yer already drunk as i am.” daryl added.

your eyebrows almost immediately pinched together as you dramatically scoffed, “that shower sobered me up real good.” you teased, bending down to grab the bottle before taking a sip of the room temperature liquor. “‘n what would be so wrong with that?” you asked, folding your arms across your chest.

“nothin’!” he defended, his hands weakly rising into the air before dropping back by his side. “s’just you look like you can’t handle your booze is all.” daryl teased.

you dropped down onto the near by couch as you slurred, “i can handle my liquor jus’ fine.”

closely you watched daryl as he plopped down beside you, taking the brown bottle from your hand before taking another swig.

“women can never handle their liquor.” he mumbled, a weak laugh escaping his lips, making you frown.

“dixon.” you mumbled, looking across to his eyes as they remained focused on the bottle in front of him. “that sounds like a challenge.” you smirked causing the man to look up with a devilish grin plastered on his lips.

he extended his arm, offering the bottle to you. you took the bottle from daryl causing a soft giggle to leave your lips as you brought the rim of the bottle up to your mouth. taking another swig of the brown liquor - burning your throat - you rested the bottle in your lap.

“yer gonna be wasted.” he noted, trying to hide the grin sneaking onto his lips.

“you’ve never even seen me drink,” i scoffed, “for all you know i could’ve been a drunk before all of this rubbish.” i added, handing the bottle back to daryl as he shuffled a little closer.

“‘cept i do, yer told me ‘bout an hour ago that you barely had your first drink before the world went to shi-.” daryl teased, his words cut off as your hand covered his mouth, quietly shushing him.

“i told you that in confidence, and i said first legal drink.” you pouted as daryl’s hand lifted up to connect with yours that was still covering the majority of his mouth.

you could feel daryls breath on the palm of your hand as he let out a small chuckle but as his hands slowly began to peel yours away from his mouth, his lips began to purse, leaving a soft kiss on your skin. you watched him as his lips continued further down your wrist, his hand loosening before finally letting go to reattach at the base of your neck, pulling you closer to him as you lips met. quicker then you could have ever imagined the kiss grew heated and passionate as you found yourselves pulling each other closer. in an act of desperation you pulled yourself onto his lap, resting your knees on either sides of his hips as you sat down on his lap, but it still didn’t feel close enough.

when you had suddenly pulled your lips away from daryls, leaving him confused and afraid that he had overstepped, but as your hands cradled his cheeks and a smile began to creep onto your lips he was left in a state of confusion.

“been waitin’ for yer to do this for a while.” you grinned, your eyes wandering around daryls face, admiring every little detail thanks to the close proximity.

“thought you were only doin’ this cause you’d been drinkin’.” he answered glumly, his hands still loosely hovering over your hips.

you shrugged weakly, a smirk creeping onto your lips as you whispered, “needed some liquid courage.” before your lips connected to his prickled jawline.

“scared of me huh?” he asked, his grip tightening around your waist as your delicate kisses began to tickle his skin.

“m’not scared of you.” you mumbled into the crook of his neck, slowly beginning to work your way back to his lips.

but just as you went to reconnect your lips, daryl slightly pulled away, his eyebrows pinched together as he whispered, “ya think i’d say no to yer?”

you stayed silent, shyly nodding. heavy breaths filled the room as a weak muffled scoff left daryls lips. you let out a little chuckle at your own foolish mind for getting in the way of an action you had been wanting to pursue for some time now.

“didn’t think i was your type.” you commented, combing a piece of hair out of your face before your hand reattached to the base of daryl’s neck.

“didn’t think i was ya type either.” he breathlessly chuckled, his hands remaining firmly gripped onto your waist.

a soft giggle left your lips as your lips momentarily connected with daryls before pulling away to whisper, “your one hundred percent my type.” you smiled, your very words making daryl scoff in disbelief before your lips reconnected with his.

daryl was in heaven on earth. he had never imagined this happening and now with you on his lap, your mouth slowly beginning to part from his lips as you trailed down his chin and jaw, your entire body now beginning to slide down. his chest rose and fell heavily as you rested on your knees, your hands now beginning to fiddle with his belt buckle.

“ya- yer don’ have ta-“ a groan slipped from daryls lips as you began to peel away his jeans, the very action sending him into a euphoric state and with you on your knees before him, something much more lustful and libidinous began to grow.

the following morning daryl woke up to you wrapped around his body, the sleeping bag - intended for one person use - was sprawled out over your two bodies, providing some warmth. your arms were wrapped around his torso, and your legs were intertwined with his. daryl looked down at you, admiring your soft delicate feature as you peacefully slept for the first time in months.

daryl thought you were so deep in sleep that nothing could possibly wake you, so when a strand of your hair fell across your face, tickling your nose and lips, daryls hand rose from his side. as he began to brush away your hair, your eyes began to flutter open, causing daryl to freeze as he trucked the strand of hair behind your ear.

“morning.” you grumbled, your arms pulling away from the warmth of daryls body to stretch.

“mornin’.” he hummed, following your actions of sitting up right, the pair of you sitting shoulder to shoulder. “yer hungover?” daryl teased, beginning to rub his face before combing his hair out of his face.

“shut up.”

[dcxdpdabbles]

Respawn and Relive

@thenightwolf51 who tagged me in this months ago, but I didn't know enough about Respawn to write something. I didn't forget! I just still haven't found much on him, so sorry if I get his character wrong.

They don't give him a name.

It's one of the first things he notices they do to dehumanize him. It's not like they see clones as humans- he's just a science experiment meant to keep the legacy of the League of Assassins alive, even at the cost of his life.

He is just there to be trained to follow commands, and if needed, he is spare parts for the Real Son. He is made from part of the same DNA as the Real Son, but that hardly matters to what should be his mother, as she does not feel anything for his biological father and thus feels nothing for the being created from the two DNAs.

He is the clone created by Slade Wilson- alias Deathstroke- and Talia al Ghul. She may not had a hand in his creation, as that was done by her father, but she had no issues using him.

Torment him. Rip him apart and put it back together just to see what happens.

She looks at him with the same gaze she would a sword. Valuating his worth by how well he can do in training, how healthy his organs are, and how he should be nothing but a loyal dog.

But he isn't. Not really.

If this was all he knew, maybe he would be the weapon they wanted, but he knows more. Remembers more. Yes, he doesn't have all his memories, but he has flashes- glimpses- of the life he had before the Leauge.

They would disapprove of the memories, which makes them all the more precious.

He can still clearly remember his mother- his real mother- a brilliant mind, his father's warm, solid hugs, and his sister's gentle eyes. He can recall his home's layout even if he can not remember the street or how far it was from his school. He can identify his two best friends' faces even if their names slip through his fingers like falling sand.

He also remembers his first name and the initials of his last.

Danny F.

He thinks he died before, waking up as the clone. He remembers standing inside a metallic cave- or a large hole in a machine?- and being electrocuted. He remembers the screams, the flashes of light, the pain, and even a glimpse of his best friends' horrified faces but not much else.

The next clear memory is looking in a mirror to see white hair and green eyes. The same combination he now sports as the Leguage's weapon and spare organ farm.

The memories after that are filled with harsh training, even more, brutal torture, and the reintegration that should his half-brother ever need them, he would give up his organs for the Real Son.

He is, after all, Damian Wayne's gift. He was created to harvest his super healing for the boy's body parts. Danny thinks he hates him, but he's not sure he can remember what hate is supposed to feel like.

He does remember what love is supposed to feel like.

Sometimes, when all he can do is lay in his cell, body aching as they test his healing factor beyond its limits- they cut off his left arm once, just to watch the tissue slowly regrow- he lets himself drown in his old memories, in the few dream-like sequences.

Some make sense, others don't. For some, he's a black-haired blue-eyed boy, and for others, he has white hair and green eyes.

Danny is sitting in class, eagerly taking notes on a topic he has been having trouble with-

-He's playing fetch with a small green dog, throwing snowballs into the air, flying after the excited creature-

-Danny is playing video games with a goth girl and a nerdy boy, laughing so hard he can't see the buttons on the control correctly-

-He's flaying alongside his sister, aiming his outstretched arm at a figure in the sky, shooting a green ray at the same time she does down below in her mechanical armor-

-Danny is helping his mother mix the dough for the cookies. He is swaying his hips to the song she has on the speaker. She's in her teal jumpsuit, having come up from the lab to do mother/son cookies as they do every Thanksgiving-

-He's testing the latest blaster with his father. They wanted to see if the auto-aiming feature was interfering with his flying. He flickers the white bangs out of his eyes as his father cheers from the roof while he takes aim-

Yes, Danny knows what love is supposed to feel like, even if he can't remember all the details, even if his full name evades him. He will escape the Leauage of Assiagins and find that feeling again.

Maybe he'll track down his biological father. Deathstroke does not know a clone was created by him, so maybe he will be willing to take him in.

It takes months, but eventually, they tell him Damian Wayne needs a kidney. Why? They don't say, but Talia knows her Beloved will donate his own, and she won't stand for it. She orders him to fulfill his duty as guards drag him to the operation table.

He grits his teeth as they strap him down and prep for surgery. Thankfully, they don't apply any anesthetics- they don't deem him worthy of a painless operation- so he has a clear head for escape.

The surgery has a thirty-window opening with no guards around. He waits until they are about to begin when he taps into the powers his memories tell him. He makes his limbs intangible, slipping through the restraints with great effort.

The medics only have a few seconds to be shocked before he is upon them. They lay in a pool of blood- not dead. His chest flares up in pain if he kills, so he tries to avoid it as much as his environment allows- as he flies through the walls. He has been planning here, so he knows what to do. Turning invisible, he passes under a helicopter scheduled for a month supply run.

By doing so, he does not appear on any radars using the large cargo as camouflage. Danny drops into the ocean as the alarms go off on that wrenched island, allowing his whole body to turn tangible. This way, the water does not slow him down as he flies deeper and deeper down, praying that they won't be able to track him the further he goes. When he gets to the part where everything is too dark to see- he picks a direction from where he came and hits top speed.

Traveling three hundred miles an hour, Danny escapes the League of Assians with all his organs intact, so take that Damian Wayne.

He has no real destination in mind but maybe, he can find the little town of his memories or maybe he'll find Deathstroke.

Maybe he will discover what the F. in his name stands for.

For now, he'll work under the name Respawn because that's a name he picked out for himself, and he'll do what he wants. He's no one's tool any longer.

(Miles away Tim Drake squints at the small dot darting from Nanda Parbat on his spying map. He's not sure what kind of misle Ra's just shot, but it's traveling fast, and he feels like he needs to phone this in.

"Hey B, we may have an issue." )

[yndrgrl]

your classmate, yandere! bakugou, is deeply & utterly infatuated w/ shy, little you, & he isn't afraid to tell you just how much you occupy his mind.

fem! reader. quirkless! au. ooc! bakugou. long ass fic. soft! yandere.

a/n: based on this video (https://youtu.be/BoHAw_pEtOA), i'm literally OBSESSED w/ it. it's like, imagine being so stunning to someone that you're on their mind 24/7 like GAHHH WHAT.

warnings: slightly disturbing content, nsfw, dirty talk, stalking, swearing, very much "joe goldberg" vibes, smut asf, male masturbation, degrading, sexsexsex, gagging, praise

----

you are sweet. you are a gentle, kind soul-- so shy & reserved. to the big, bad katsuki bakugou, you are truly eye-catching. the way you didn't draw attention to yourself & yet would say the most profound things during online discussion posts made him wonder what was going on in that cute, little head of yours.

the way you're just the complete opposite of him made him crave you.

the first time he noticed you, you walked through the classroom door with your bulky headphones on that were clearly a part of your first-day-of-school outfit. enthralled was the only way he could describe how he felt. maybe shocked as well. how could someone so beautiful just walk into class?

he scoffed at his own thoughts, knowing damn well if he heard kirishima or denki say anything like that, he would've rolled his eyes. if she's beautiful, he thought, then she must have a terrible personality that i don't want to get to know.

unluckily -but also luckily- you were assigned the seat right beside him. you, with your pearly, white teeth, flashed him a courteous smile. you placed your bag on the floor, shrunk into your seat, & pulled out your binder.

what. a. nerd. katsuki laughed in his head. he could already read you like a book, he believed. a goody-two-shoes who stutters after every word, no confidence, & lives in her own little bubble, is what he deducted.

& yet he couldn't help but notice how fragrant your perfume smelled. it reminds him of a time when he was at peace, without a worry in the world. "god, how much perfume does a girl need," katsuki loudly said.

it took you a second to register that, beyond the music playing through the speakers of your headphones, there was a voice muffled. slipping your headphones down around your neck, you questioned, "i'm sorry, did you say something?"

"whatever," katsuki mumbled beside you. you felt bad, not meaning to ignore him. however, before you got the chance to apologize, the bell rang, & the professor walked to the front of the classroom. a professor that he could already tel he would hate, by the way.

that was the first day of the semester.

katsuki saw you everywhere after that. it's not like he wanted to or anything. the campus should have been big enough for the both of you, but it wasn't. he would see you at lunch with your goody-goody friends, or walking back to your dorm building with your heavy bag, or in different classes that you didn't sit with him.

one day, as the days grew slightly colder, katsuki needed to blow off some steam. he didn't know what was making him pent up. correction: he didn't want to admit that he knew why he was all pent up. since when can a person can make the great katsuki bakugou pent up?

since the first day of the semester, that's when.

bakugou, in a tight-fitting compression shirt & sweatpants, sauntered into the campus gym with his army green duffel bag slung over his shoulder. at this time of day -that being 6 in the morning- the gym was bare. only the early birds & forced athletes occupied the gym.

& apparently, so did nerds.

there you were, in all your glory. you wore black leggings that accentuated your legs. your silky, soft hair held up by a clear claw clip. your beaten up converse told the story that you are an avid gym-goer.

stationed in front of one of the only squat wracks that had a window view, the morning sunlight gazed upon your features. the soft hue made bakugou choke on his own spit. as he gawked your stature, he watched as you took sips from your water bottle. then he watched as you went to the bar, ducked under, & got ready to squat. he felt something twitch as you began your set.

"hey, bakugou~" a feminine voice spoke, causing him to almost jump. he shifted his bag so it hung in front of him. "whatcha doooing?"

"mina, what does it look like?" he scoffed.

"it looks like you were staring at-"

he cut her off. "i wasn't staring at anyone. it's just weird to see nerds like her in the gym."

"nerds like her?" she questioned, then she quickly changed the subject, "whatever, you're gonna work out with me & kiri, right?"

after that, bakugou deducted you were an anomaly. he learned how kind & attentive you are when he just so happened to read a text you sent out between you & a friend. he learned how confident you truly can be when you believe it's just you-- no eyes looking at you. he learned that your reputation was the opposite of his.

you see, bakugou was rough around the edges, to put it softly. he wore edgy clothing that made heads turn, thanks to his fashion designer parents, of course. he was proud to show off how big his muscles were & how many tattoos & scars littered his skin. he often skipped lectures, which didn't matter in the end because of his high scores on the exams.

on the other hand, you were just a beam of heaven-gate sunlight. always getting the best grades, acing tests, showing up on time, & taking pretty notes with pens, no need for pencils because you never mess up. you were also quiet, almost seeming untouchable.

the first time he caught himself truly thinking about you was late at night. he fell asleep on his dorm bed after a day of ditching classes. soon, images popped into the black void. it was a blur, colors mashing together until it was clear. there you stood, a gasp escaping your pink lips. it was as though he was watching a movie of himself.

he touched your body, scorching your skin with a red blush. he squeezed your thighs, your ass, your tits. nowhere left untouched, & you liked it. your fingers tangled themselves into his blonde tresses. you pulled him closer & begged in his ear to stick his heavy cock into your sopping pussy.

he awoke, breath heavy & a thin layer of sweat on his forehead. his dick was still incredibly hard. it was almost painful. his roommate/classmate/best buddy, kirishima already left for his early morning class & wouldn't be back until later that afternoon. katsuki knew that.

in hopes to dull the pain, he took his cock into his hand & started jerking it. though it helped, he needed something more. he took a breath, & with his other hand, he unlocked his phone & went onto instagram-- your instagram.

the most recent picture you posted was from summer. it was a college of the outfits you wore & activities you've done before fall semester. his favorite one was a candid your friend must've took. you were on the beach surrounded by people katsuki didn't care about. you were in such a scandalous swim suit that left little to the imagination. it was taken from behind so it shamelessly displayed how your swim bottoms did nothing but cover your important bits.

god, what he would do to you if he ever saw you in the swimsuit. he would bend you over, slip your bikini bottoms to the side (because he couldn't waste any time taking it off) & fuck you senseless in front of everyone. he would make you clean off his dick with that pretty, little mouth of yours. he would-

he came. he came all over his abs, & yet his cock was still throbbing. still beating for you. "shit," he whispered. as much as he hated it, katsuki was often self aware of his emotions. it's a nerdy thing to do, he knows. however, after finishing to the thought of you, he knows that he's obsessed with you, & there's nothing he can do so why fight it?

it was another day, another lecture. there sat katsuki, slumped in his seat before you even entered the class. as you did, he watched as your beautiful eyes connected with his & widen with shock. he hasn't been in class in a week, there was no big exam in class, so you were curious why he even showed up.

walking towards your desk with your eyes averted to the floor, katsuki took your figure in. he still couldn't get over how your fashion sense reflected your personality, your aura, perfectly. you seemed so comfortable, nearly confident & he loved it.

you knew he was staring; it would've been unnerving if it were anyone else. however, you found katsuki unbelievably attractive. you were flattered-- of course. what if i'm just being delusional, you wondered, denying that he was looking at you. curiosity would've gotten the better of you if you could hold eye contact though.

you sat in your seat beside him. as per usual, you took out your binder of notes, your colored pens, & placed your headphones around your neck like you do every day in this class. the professor announced that, because it is a communications class, it's important that everyone communicates. the assignment was to create a simple, few-slide presentation introducing your passion project for the rest of the year. dedication at its finest, everyone. it was an easy assignment that required nothing but a few sentences pulled out of your ass & a slides template you can download online.

as soon as he was done with his expectations for it, he let his students loose. the professor was clearly not in the mood to teach for whatever reason. you considered it a blessing because you have stacks of homework & a pile of laundry waiting for you after classes.

you pulled out your laptop you've had since forever. after signing in, you started immediately on the project. it's better to get it out of the way then to forget about it, you told yourself.

you were about to slip your headphones back on when someone questioned, "what are you doing yours on?"

it took you a second to realize it was your deskmate. it took you two to realize he was talking to you.

"um... i'm sorry?" you looked at him, confused. you didn't have any friends in this class. not that you minded.

the blonde hard head scoffed & said, "god, are you deaf? what are you doing your project about?"

"oh, um," you looked back at your computer. the blinking edit line taunting you. "i don't really know yet."

"tch, really? we're almost a month into this class," he responded. "i expected a nerd like you to be already on the last assignment for the year."

"i-i haven't really found the time, i guess."

"yeah right, don't sweat it with an explanation, nerd."

there was a silence, a silence you decided to fill.

"... what's your project about?"

"none of your damn business," he said back. that's your sign you never talk in the class again.

"hm right, just asking," you muttered, going back to brainstorming ideas you could build upon for the next year that doesn't sound too niche. or maybe you want to do something so niche that no one would know if you were right or wrong. so many options.

"i'm gonna do mine on chemical explosives."

he was talking to you again. does that mean he wants to talk with you? only you? you were looking to far into it, but you couldn't help but blush.

"oh wow, that's pretty hardcore," you responded quietly, as not to disrupt everyone else's small conversations. "what made you choose that?"

"it's a passion project; that's a passion of mine," he said as-a-matter-of-factly. he was so reserved, it only added to his bad boy charm.

you took a deep breath, deciding to -for the first time in your college life- to put yourself out there & pointed out, "the curriculum says we have to present our projects to someone of our choosing... would you want to present it to each other?"

fireworks.

you asked that & it felt as though fireworks blew up in katsuki's heart. his stoic face didn't show just how excited he was that you were the one to ask him. if you asked him to be his partner, then you've clearly been thinking of him, & if you're thinking of him, you're practically all his, &-

"yeah, whatever. you better have an interesting passion project."

that was the very first, full-blown conversation the two of you shared.

katsuki replays that moment in his head, thinks about what he should've said differently, about how he would've made a move if the two of you were alone (which he probably wouldn't have).

you ran even more rampantly in his mind. every thought crossed back to you. he constantly wondered how you were doing, what were you doing, who you were with. it drove him mad, giving him a headache. there was no medication he could take to soothe it. he found that he was only at ease when you were in sight or ear shot.

you were his clarity, & what sane person lets their clarity go? it started out small & in such a subconscious way.

katsuki was wandering the campus as he waited for his friends to get out of class when he spotted you. you must have a thing for windows because you sat on a lounge chair facing the grand window in the library. you were focused on your computer screen, so unaware of your surroundings. your brows furrowed, probably thinking about your passion project. your earbuds played whatever podcast you decided to listen to.

so, you're studying by yourself, katsuki took a mental note of that. when he did, he felt the pressure on his temples relieve. he entered the library for no other reason than you. you didn't notice him, why would you? he sat on a table behind you with his phone in his hand. katsuki's ruby eyes darted around the library before opening his camera & snapping a quick photo of you. he told himself that it would be the last time he would take a photo of you like that.

he lied to himself.

as the school year continued on, his private folder of sneaky pictures of you only grew & grew. at first, it was once every so often, but addiction kills, & he just couldn't stop.

the change that came with you was noticeable. the usually brash & unpredictable katsuki was now collected & cool. one thing that didn't change was the permanent scowl etched on his face.

his friends could see through his one-note facial expression. so it was only natural that, during a hangout in one of the dorms, they would ask, "you good?"

"yeah, why wouldn't i be?" katsuki retorted, popping a hot cheeto into his mouth while he focused on the small tv screen. katsuki wanted nothing more than to have you under his arm at the moment.

denki chimed in, "well it's just that you haven't called anyone stupid yet."

"thought you guys would be happy i didn't insult you," he rolled his eyes.

"bakubro, you can tell us anything. we've all gone through a lot together-" kirishima was cut off.

"yeah i know, there's just nothing to tell."

katsuki noticed his friends glance at each other, unconvinced. he supposes he can't blame them; he is acting so strangely afterall.

"how do i say this-" kirishima (poor man) was cut off again-- this time by mina.

"do you like someone?" she snickered. out of all the things she could've asked, that was one of the last things he thought she would ask.

"what? no! i don't like anyone," he said defensively.

"then are you lonely? i can set you up with someone," mina pulled out her phone & started pulling up a picture of said someone, "let me show you her."

"no i'm not lonely either, raccoon eyes! it's none of your damn business!" he shouted, honestly sickened at the thought of being intimate & romantic with someone who wasn't you.

"are you sure~?" mina dragged the last word out in a sing-songy voice.

"yes."

"don't be mad-"

"what the fuck did you do?"

"i already invited her," mina chuckled, quickly stuffing her phone into her back pants pocket.

"WHAT?" katsuki shouted. what would you think? would you even care?

"listen, she's a really sweet girl, & i think that-" mina's defenses were cut short by the angry hot head.

"i don't care, tell her she's uninvited or something." it really wasn't that difficult.

mina stayed silent. katsuki already knew why. as if on cue, there was a knock on the door. "i was only kidding with you, ya big baby. i just invited another girl, no date required," mina joked. she muttered right after, "hopefully you two will hit it off so you're not so grumpy."

kirishima opened the door right as bakugou yelled, "what was that, you pinkie pie bitch?" the sakura-haired girl waved him off, popping to her feet to greet her guest.

she cheered, "y/n!" mina threw her hands up & stepped towards you for a hug. katsuki's head snapped towards the door, cheeks slightly pink because he knew that you heard his outburst.

"hi, mina" you softly said, accepting the hug. you wore loungewear; you wore a black crew neck with a rib cage vinyl design & shorts. "thanks for inviting me."

"of course! let me introduce you to everyone!" she ushered you inside the dorm room, & kirishima shut the door behind you. "that one," she points to the man who shut the door, "is kirishima." he smiled his classic, toothy grin. "that's sero, right next to him is denki," she said. they both -with mouths stuffed with snacks & hands occupied with controllers- said a brief "hi."

"& that one is-"

"i know her already." katsuki had a habit of cutting off his friends. was it polite? no, not in the slightest. did he care? no, he did not. "we're classmates."

"oh, um... i didn't know you were gonna be here," you admitted, cheeks flushed in shock.

"oi! you stalking me now, nerd?"

"no, not at all!" you quickly defended. you really didn't know he was going to be sitting in front of you, he knew that.

mina stepped in, "be nice to her, bakugou! i'm trying to make new friends, remember?"

"yeah, yeah, i remember you yappin' about it," bakugou responded as he laid back onto the dorm bed. he felt your eyes on him. just your mere attention got him riled up. he didn't know how to handle it. he felt as though he were burning up. his eyes shot towards your figure, eyes locking with your deep ones. "quit staring."

"i don't mean to stare-"

"get over yourself, bakubro," kirishima joked. he chucked a throw pillow mina insisted they get to "liven the sad, jail cell of a room."

that night, katsuki couldn't help but stare. hypocrite, he knows. but he just couldn't look away. you were a magnetic force, chipping away at his self-control. even with such modest clothing, he still found himself yearning for your body, your mind, your entire being as you already had his.

time flew by fast. he could tell you were slowly getting used to the dynamic his friend group shared. your shoulders slumped throughout the evening, & you sat without your hands in your lap. denki even got you to play a round of mario kart against mina. though you didn't like being in the spotlight, you thought it was fun seeing everyone's shocked faces after you beat the self-proclaimed queen of nintendo.

the night came to a close after kirishima, denki, & sero passed out on the floor while mina slept on the bed. you fought sleep, eyelids drooping with every passing second.

"tired?" katsuki questioned. he chuckled when you suddenly turned alert.

sheepishly, you confirmed, "yeah, just a bit. i think i'm gonna head back to my dorm."

"waking up your roommate isn't very nice of you," katsuki pointed out.

"my roommate dropped out, & they haven't assigned me a new one."

"is that so?"

you stuffed your keys into your left pocket & your phone in your right before replying, "yeah, lucky me. dorm room all to myself for the semester."

"what building?" dumb question, katsuki already knew what building you lived in.

"building b, floor three," you told him. you stood up & slipped on your slides. "i really should get going. weirdos start coming out at this time."

there was a silence that followed. in katsuki's head, the gears were grinding. never has he thought so much about a decision pertaining another person in his life. would it be too pushy if he walked you back? would he be shitty if he didn't?

"fuck it," he whispered. it was so quiet in the room that you heard him clearly. "let me walk you," he spoke with more clarity.

"you really don't have to!" you didn't know he was going to offer you such a thing. "i mean it, really. i have a mace keychain-" katsuki stood up & threw on a random hoodie that was on his chair as you rambled, tiredness getting to you, "-& i have my phone so i can call the police."

"just shut up & let's go."

the walk, at first, was awkward, to say the least. the night was still, no breeze to dance with the crusting leaves. there was no one in sight, nor were there cars that zoomed past the university.

"if i would've known you were gonna walk me, i would've left earlier," you broke the silence in a hushed voice.

maybe it was because he was still awake hours past his bedtime, but katsuki responded in a softer way than expected. "did you have fun?"

"yes i did," you told him with a small smile.

"then don't worry about it."

he was so sweet to you in that moment that you couldn't help but swoon. cheeks stained pink as you averted your eyes.

katsuki stared at you through his peripheral, catching how you began to mess with the hem of your shirt.

soon enough, the two of you reached the dorm building. katsuki stood there, about to turn around when you quickly whispered, "wanna walk me up?" you gulped. you didn't even know if you could consider him a friend, & now you're practically barking orders at him; what's wrong with-

"of course."

you both reached your room. once again, in that precious voice of yours, you suggested, "you can stay the night here, if you want."

when he remained quiet (due to shock & a growing boner), you back tracked, "w-well because the extra bed is still in here, & you did me a favor so now i owe you, &-"

"i have a confession," he said, "invite me inside."

"o-oh, yeah of course," you stuttered, unlocking the door & opening it for him. you shut the door & locked it. "what do you have to tell me?"

you quickly pulled out another blanket while he sat in a chair.

katsuki experienced some things throughout his life. he experienced fights & competitions & other stupid shenanigans. he's been questioned by cops & dealt with firefighters. however, he's never felt this nervous in front of anyone. his heart leapt into his throat & used his skull as a pounding speaker. he could barely hear his own thoughts. "i don't know how you'll react."

"i won't get mad," you promised, curious. "if that's what you're worried about." you expected that, since it's confession hour or something, he'd reveal things about his past.

"i think about you, y/n." that's not what you were expecting. "i think about you all the fuckin' time."

"w-wha?" what more could you say? from behind, you heard shuffling then warmth & a looming figure. you turned around & met his eyes, trying to find if he was messing with you.

"& i can't stop thinking about you. at first, you were so annoying. with your little outfits & perfume & shit. i found you everywhere i went. i started looking out for you, wondering if you'll show your annoying, pretty face," he confessed. katsuki didn't break eye contact as he sandwiched you between him & your bed.

"you're such a goody-two-shoes. such a fuckin' nerd. but you're the only girl who's ever caught my attention, you know that? why is that?" katsuki's fingertips began to trace your clothed legs then up & under your sweatshirt. he leaned down to your ear, "are you okay with this?"

all you could do is nod, afraid that if you were to speak, it would come out as a mere squeak. he pulled away, staring into your eyes once more with his glowing ruby ones.

"good. i still don't know why it's you. maybe it's cuz of how hard you work, or how disgustingly nice you are no matter what. you're such an angel, & that must make me a demon then," he told you. you felt your entire being light on fire-- cheeks hot, ears red, & you needed to get out of your clothes. "god, let me be the one to taint you, to ruin you."

the blonde pulled you in close to his chest by wrapping his muscular arms around your frame. your hand grazed on a bulge in his pants & he jolted. "you feel that? that's how hard you get me during class."

muffled, you let out, "b-bakugou." & with those big, innocent eyes, you looked up at him.

"it's katsuki, baby."

"katsuki," you corrected yourself before continuing, "you mean all of this, r-right?" you felt tears well up & your throat tightening when you began thinking it was all a joke.

his love-drunk expression shifted into an offended one. "you think i'm sayin' all this shit cuz i think it's funny?"

"i-i don't know."

rough yet lovingly, he grabbed your chin & leaned in, noses centimeters away from each other. "this is real to me, & it will be real to you."

your gaze darted to his eyes, furrowed brows, his moonlit hair, then his lips. the moment you looked at his lips, he smashed his lips against yours. the force of his kids caused you to prop your elbows against the bed all while he snuck his knee between your legs. he pressed his thick thigh against the aching warmth.

you let out a muffled moan, & he mistakenly took that as an invite to roam your mouth with his tongue. you pushed it back with yours but, like in every other aspect besides academic, he dominated you.

the two of you ran out of air eventually. he pulled away, eyes half-lidded. "let me get you out of those clothes." he almost sounded needy, if your ears didn't deceive you.

"please, katsuki." that's all you had to say. it was like a command to him, & he was your ever loving soldier. he helped you take of your sweatshirt. gawking at your chest, you didn't wear a bra.

he scoffed with a smug smile, "sneaky girl." he saw right through you. it's true, you didn't wear a bra because of a fantasy you didn't know you were going to fulfill tonight. easy access. you wanted to give him easy access. "i knew there had to be something about you, & i figured it out."

he fondled your tits while he whispered in the crook of your neck, "you're a filthy slut, huh?" you nodded, grinding against his thigh; he chuckled before he started to mark your sensitive neck with hickeys upon hickeys.

at this point, it was getting hard to keep quiet. you knew it was only going to get harder from there. you bit your pink lip as a form of self restraint as katsuki took off his shirt & slipped off your sweatpants. you wore a lacy thong.

katsuki muttered, "oh fuck." he so badly needed you. his fingers rubbed your arousal through the fabric. he loved knowing that he made you so wet. his other hand pushed his boxers & pants down in one swift motion. katsuki needed to feel you around his poor, throbbing cock.

you might've had self restraint, but your lover didn't. he ripped the panties off of you & threw them somewhere in the dark room, not that he cared. if you were upset about it, he'll just buy you another pair he'd tear off. "fuck, y/n. i need you to tell me you want this- no you need this, need me."

you stroked his forearm with your fingers. this was so out of your comfort zone but you still managed to spit out, "i-i need you, katsu-"

there goes that habit of cutting you off again. he shoved his tip into, causing you squeal. he let you stretch, then stuck in more of his cock until you were finally well-adjusted to him. you felt the weight of cock inside you as your walls tightened around him.

you couldn't help but moan as a way of begging him to move. he demanded, "use your words, angel."

"katsuki~" you whined. his calloused hand clasped around your marked neck.

"tell me what you want, & you get to breath."

"y-you! i want you to fu-fuck me!" you choked out, eyes rolling to the back of you head as you desperately tried to breath. he let go, satisfied that you were slowly coming undone.

"such a quick learner," he praised, "i love hearing that voice of yours." you clenched around his hung prick.

he started to move, shallow humps turned into powerful, bed-rocking thrusts. he through your feet onto his shoulders while your wrists were held down to your sides with his hands. your brain turned into bimbo mush, babbling about how he needs to go harder, to keep going. katsuki happily obliged-- anything for his favorite girl.

every thrust your tits jiggled & your ass slapped against his hips. god, how was your body this divine? "such a good whore, handling my cock so good."

"k-katsuki, wanna cum- i'm cumming, i'm cumming!" you told him, scrunching your bed sheets under your grip. your mouth widened. with lightning speed, katsuki shoved something in your mouth; it was your ripped thong. the one you thought was lost in the room.

"fuck yeah," he moaned while he played with your clit. "cum all over my cock, i'm all yours." katsuki was so mean, yet so romantic. he ruined you so effortlessly & still managed to make you feel like you were a goddess amongst men.

you came. that wasn't the last time that night. he pulled out & flipped you over. "ass up, we're not done."

[kiss-me-cill-me]

Predator

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Summary: You are obsessed with Jonathan Crane. And tonight, you're finally going to show him just how much you love him - even if he might not remember the encounter. But when things don't go according to plan, you are the one forced to deal with the consequences. Not that you're complaining...

Warnings: DUB-CON smut (the con is extremely dub on both sides here, folks), mentions of non-con, stalking, yandere!reader, loss of control, mind games, needles, mentions of drugs, mentions of sex work, oral (m receiving), deepthroating, degradation, praise, name-calling, multiple orgasms

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

Your heels tap against the tile, clicking like a raptor’s talons, as you make your way across the hotel lobby. You smile, leaning over the counter to talk to the concierge, and try to look a little embarrassed.

“I'm so sorry to bother you,” you say. The hotel clerk is staring, not quite subtly, at your breasts, which is exactly where you want him to look. “But I seem to have lost my room key. May I have another one?”

The clerk collects himself; puts on his business voice as his fingers poise above his keyboard.

“Of course,” he replies. “Name on the reservation?”

“Crane. Jonathan.”

The clerk types rapidly for a moment, and then looks back at you.

“I'm sorry, miss, but I'm only showing one person on this reservation. You're not, ah…”

“Mmm.” You smile. “My boyfriend is here on a business trip. Speaking at the big conference in town. I'm not… exactly supposed to be here with him. I'm sure he wouldn't have told his work I'd be staying with him.”

Your voice drops just a bit lower, hinting at conspiracy. You consider winking, but decide against it. No need to oversell things.

“Boyfriend. Is that right?” the hotel clerk drawls. He looks you up and down briefly.

Rage flashes white hot behind your eyes, there and gone too fast for him to notice. This man assumes that you're some kind of prostitute. You can see it on his face, and it angers you. You're infuriated that he doesn't believe what you’ve told him. Though of course, it's not as if you're telling the truth. 

“That's right,” you agree, pleasantly. “And I'm afraid I'm in a bit of a rush. I'm dying to get out of this dress.”

You only have to act a little. The tight black dress you're wearing really is uncomfortable, but to play the part you have to dress the part. And besides, you want to look your best tonight.

The image of you undressing seems to be enough to convince the man, who turns back to his computer and starts typing again. You're not proud of throwing yourself around like this. Honestly, you would prefer it if no one but Crane got to enjoy you tonight - even if having him actually see you would throw a wrench into your plans. But you have to do what it takes to get your prize, and you're not above using the tactics that work.

“Could you just confirm the room number for me?” asks the hotel clerk, in a last-ditch effort to preserve some of his professionalism.

“Three-oh-three,” you say with a smile.

The clerk hands over a key card.

“Have a nice night,” he tells you.

You thank him. Snatch the card and walk away, toward the elevators that are waiting like steel traps at the other end of the lobby. That was easier than it should have been. You tuck the card safely into your purse, next to the little syringe and the three condoms. Traveling light tonight. The doors open as you reach the first elevator, as if they were waiting for you.

You smile.

You feel your heart beating heavy in your chest when the elevator doors finally open on your floor. Well, not your floor, really, but Crane’s floor. You've invited yourself, but that doesn't make what's about to happen tonight any less special. 

Before you know it, you're standing in front of his door, the numbers above the peephole staring back at you as you pause for a moment. You're almost lightheaded, just from being here, so close to fulfilling the dream you've had for months.

Jonathan Crane. A genius. A visionary. And the man at the center of your every fantasy. For too long, you've watched him from afar - at first not daring to let yourself dream of having him, but then, slowly, realizing that you have no life without him. That he is the center of your universe, and that your purpose is to trail after him like a desperate satellite. Once you knew that, it became impossible not to be with him. Unbearable to bear spending every day on his periphery when all you wanted was him, him, him. 

You steady yourself. Close your eyes for a few seconds just to savor it. Just being here. Then, you take the card out of your purse and swipe it, quickly tucking it back away before you open the door. The handle turns easily - why wouldn’t it, after all? You are, clearly, meant to be here - despite the fact that you are most certainly not supposed to be here. You step into the room, letting the door close behind you, and take another moment to bask.

“You know, I’d really prefer if you’d knock,” says a voice, suddenly coming from inside the room.

From where you’re standing you can’t see much, but you freeze, instantly. You’re stuck in that strange little hallway that seems to be at the entrance of every hotel room, with just a few coat hangers and a full-length mirror for company. And you can’t move because that’s his voice coming from around the corner. You would recognize it anywhere.

As you stand frozen, two things occur to you. One: it’s strange that Crane sounds like he’s expecting someone. And two: it’s even stranger that he’s here. His schedule says he’s at one of the conference’s dinners right now. You were supposed to have time to prepare. This is not going according to plan.

“I told you,” says a slightly annoyed Crane, his voice getting closer, “that I’d have your money tomorrow. So if you could just-”

His words cut off as he sees you, clearly not whoever he was expecting, and your heart skips at least three beats as you finally come face to face with him. 

“Who are you?” he asks, reasonably.

“O-oh, I’m… terribly sorry,” you reply. Your heart is now hammering at a million miles a minute, making up for lost time. You feel yourself fumbling for words, but manage to wrestle control of your tongue. “I must have the wrong room.”

Crane rakes his eyes over you suspiciously. You can see from the tilt of his head that he doesn’t buy it, and now he’s sizing you up as a threat. You let yourself swoon for just a moment. He’s so intelligent. This is exactly why you’d planned to lie in wait for him; you could never outsmart him and you very likely also couldn’t best him in a fight. Not that you’d ever want it to come to that, but if it did… Well, you doubt you’d be able to keep your mind on self preservation for very long once he got his hands on you.

“How did you get in here?” he presses.

“This is the room they gave me,” you explain. “There must have been some kind of mixup at the front desk.”

It's a slightly different story than the first, but hopefully a more believable one. You open your purse; reach in to pull out the key card and show him. Or maybe you'll go for the syringe. But before your fingers can wrap around anything, Crane snatches your purse and turns swiftly on his heel.

“Hey!”

You follow after him as he strides to the large bed, and dumps out the purse’s contents. The syringe, the condoms, and a few errant bobby pins spill out across the duvet. The key card falls to the floor.

“It’s rude to go through a woman’s purse, you know!” 

Your anger flares in his direction before you can control yourself. You bite your tongue, horrified that you've snapped at him.

“I'd say it's pretty clear that the rules of civility don't apply to you,” Crane retorts, as he reaches for the syringe. “Just what exactly were you planning to do with this?”

“That's… personal?” you mumble.

“Try again.”

God, he's so sexy. How are you supposed to concentrate on getting out of this when his voice is all graveley and dark like that, and he's staring at you with those eyes that look like they could pierce through skin and bone, and-

“Well?”

Crane is growing impatient. You scrabble together your thoughts and open your mouth to speak, plan still only half formed.

“Ah, I mean, that's my medication,” you explain. “It's for… migraines.”

“Hm, really?” Crane replies. “Then you wouldn't mind if I administered it to you.”

“No!” you say, a bit too sharply. 

He's already removed the cap from the needle, and has taken a few steps toward you when your voice rings out. He stops in his tracks, and you swear you can hear your heartbeat thunder around the room. A tense moment of silence passes, before Crane finally speaks again.

“So, this isn't your migraine medication,” he states. “And you're a strange woman who's just shown up in my hotel room, with a purse full of drugs and condoms. I'm calling security.”

Crane calmly walks to the bedside table, stabs the syringe into its wooden surface, and picks up the phone out of its cradle. Your heart rate spikes as he starts to dial.

“Dr. Crane, I don't think you should do that,” you warn.

“And why the fuck is that?”

“Because I don't want to have to tell them… who you really are.”

Crane pauses, and cocks his head at you again. You can feel yourself regaining control of the situation. Like a warm blanket wrapping around your shoulders; it feels good. So good that you can't help but smile at him as he scrunches his eyebrows together and frowns.

“What do you mean by that?” he asks.

The word passes over your lips like a sin, spreading its venom over your tongue as you say it.

“Scarecrow.”

Crane's eyes widen. You feel red heat rise to your cheeks. He wasn't expecting you to have leverage, and the fact that you've managed to surprise him fills you with an immense pride. 

“Who are you?” Crane asks softly. 

“I'm a fan of your work,” you reply. It might be the first truth you've told all night.

Crane replaces the phone with a sigh. He runs a hand through his hair as he looks up at you.

“Okay, who are you working for?” he asks. “Who sent you?”

You shake your head.

“No, no, no, Dr. Crane - I mean it,” you giggle. “I heard you speak at a different conference a few months ago, and I… Well, is it crazy to say that I fell in love?”

Crane fixes you with a glare that says, yes, it most certainly is crazy. You don't even notice as you rattle on - Jonathan Crane is your favorite subject, after all.

“From there, I wanted to learn everything about you,” you continue. “Where you live, where you work, where you shop for groceries. Some of it was easier to figure out than the rest, of course, but once I learned your schedule it became clear to me. You spend a lot of time out of the house late-late at night.”

Crane studies you carefully as you go on your monologue, but you're too wrapped up in it to care. 

“So I dug deeper, and guess what I found?” you tease. “Dr. Crane has a secret, and now it's our secret to share. You and me.”

You've closed some of the distance between you, and now Crane is so wonderfully close that you could reach out and brush your fingers against him. You resist, not wanting to scare him away, but look up at him expectantly as you wait for his reaction. You've just laid your heart bare for the first time in forever. He has that effect on you, you guess; it's impossible to deny him anything.

“So you're obsessed with me,” Crane says calmly. “I can't lie; it is kind of flattering.” He smiles. Only for a moment, before his expression turns dark. “But you still haven't told me, what the fuck were you planning to do with this?”

He gestures to the syringe, still sticking up with its needle planted in the bedside table, greenish liquid swirling inside of it. You lower your eyes, suddenly bashful. It feels so utterly silly now; you feel like you've actually started to build up a rapport with him, and you don't want to risk harming Crane’s perception of you. Still, knowing him, it will be worse for you if you don't tell the truth upfront, so you're honest yet again.

“It's a blend of a few things,” you admit. “An aphrodisiac, a relaxant, a very mild sedative. I was planning to use it on you so I could…”

“Rape me?” Crane supplies.

“Don't say it like that!” you beg. It sounds so ugly when he says it that way. “I just wanted to show you my love. I wanted to share it with you. That's not a bad thing, is it?”

You take another step toward him, desperate to show him what you mean. If only he'd let you show him. It would be so good for both of you. As you get closer, Crane backs up until he's sitting on the bed, then leaning back into the mattress. You lean down, trying not to hover over him too much, your fingers barely ghosting the sheets as you plant your arms on either side of his body.

“Please,” you whisper. Crane doesn't look afraid, but he is eyeing you carefully. “Please just let me show you?”

Crane considers the situation for a moment. You wait with bated breath, not daring to let yourself imagine what will happen if he says yes. The room spins as you forget to take in enough oxygen, and you feel yourself dip an inch closer to him.

“If I let you live out your twisted fantasy,” he begins, slowly. “You won't tell anyone about what you said earlier?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” you promise, your smile immediately brightening at his words.

Crane nods, just once. Curtly.

“Fine then,” he says. Your heart explodes in your chest. “But you’re not using that syringe on me. And you're going to do all the work.”

As he's talking, he's already shrugging out of his shirt. You practically drool at the sight of his bare chest; struck with the irresistible urge to drag your fingers over it. You feel yourself smiling wildly. This is so much better than you'd ever imagined it. Your beloved is actually a willing participant! Why had you ever been prepared to settle for anything less?

Crane slowly unbuckles his belt, and then looks at you expectantly. Your fingers feel almost removed from your body as you reach out to pop the button on his pants. None of this feels real; you must be in a dream. You hope he doesn’t notice how much you’re shaking. It wouldn’t do to have him get any ideas about wrestling his way out of this.

“Let’s go through your little plan together,” says Crane, as you tug down his zipper and start to pull on his waistband. “You were going to drug me, knock me out - and then what?”

The only thing separating you from your prize now is the thin cotton of his boxer-briefs. Beneath, you can tell that he’s already half hard. The realization sends a throbbing ache between your legs. The musky scent of his arousal - or maybe it’s yours - starts to seep into the room, and you lick your lips to get a taste of it like a snake.

“Was gonna get you ready for me,” you answer, already slipping into a haze of fantasy.

“How?” Crane asks.

“With my mouth…”

Maybe it’s your imagination, but you swear you see his cock twitch at your words. The air catches in your throat again, and you have to force yourself to take deep breaths through your nose. 

“Go on, then,” Crane prods. “Show me.”

He’s sitting up slouched on the bed, arms bent just a little so he can look down at you as you bring yourself to eye level with his cock. He is definitely getting hard; you don’t even have to do anything to him, honestly. But you want to, and even more important than that - Dr. Crane is telling you to. You can’t deny him.

You pull down the thin fabric, and watch as he springs free. His cock is beautiful - just like you’d imagined it would be. There’s already a bead of precum on the tip, just begging to be licked off. You wrap your lips around him eagerly and worship the head of his cock, tasting the salty tang of him as you kiss it. Lovingly. Gently. That’s what you want to be for him as you part your lips and take him deeper, moaning around his length. 

Crane has other ideas. 

He ruts up into your mouth, letting out an absolutely sinful groan as he does it. The sound has you clenching your thighs for dear life as a wave of arousal and pressure runs through you. You want to touch yourself desperately, but know you need to hold on. There’s no way you’re going to waste the energy to get off on your own fingers tonight.

“Sorry,” Crane says. “Forgot I was supposed to be unconscious.”

You can’t reply with his cock in your mouth, but the biting sarcasm in his voice makes you feel things that are probably best left unsaid. Thank goodness you abandoned your morality a long time ago.

In direct contradiction to what he’s just said, Crane tangles a hand in your hair and starts pressing you further down onto his cock. You gag as the tip of your nose touches him, and let out a muffled whine.

“What, too much for you?” Crane laughs. “I thought you wanted to get me ready.”

You try not to whimper as you nod your head. You can feel your mascara starting to run as tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and try to blink them back in. Once you’re composed enough to refocus, you start to swirl your tongue against him. Crane’s grip on the back of your head tightens, and you feel a sense of pride swell in you, pressing down the panic. This is exactly what you wanted - to make him feel good. To show him your devotion. You bob your head, pushing past the point of your own comfort to take him as deep as you can.

He lets your throat clench around him for a few minutes before he abruptly pulls you off. Your mouth makes a wet pop as it sucks around nothing, and you look up at your beloved with something that borders on sadness and lust.

“What next?” he demands. “I know you didn’t just come here to suck me off like a cheap whore.”

You stand up and try to collect yourself. Wipe the spit that’s pooled at the base of your chin. Organize your thoughts into some semblance of an intelligible response.

“Want to… to feel you inside me,” you pant.

“Of course you do,” Crane says. He has something in his hand, and he holds it up to show you. The condoms. “You even came prepared. But, let’s not pretend for even a second that you were actually going to use these.”

He throws the roll of condoms behind him, and they disappear somewhere over the side of the bed. Your mouth is hanging open in shock, and Crane smirks at your disbelief. 

“It’s not fun if there’s not a little risk, right?” he says. “Don’t tell me that’s not why you came here in the first place - to get off on the thrill of doing something dangerous.”

“I… I came here for you,” you insist. 

Though it is getting harder and harder to think straight as Crane slips himself fully out of his lingering clothes. When he’s done with that, he moves on to reaching up and grabbing at the zipper on your dress. He pauses with his hands at the back of your neck.

“And what drew you to me in the first place?” he presses. “You know I’m a dangerous man. You know my deepest, darkest secret. But instead of scaring you away, it only pushes you closer. You can’t resist the fear that you feel at the thought of being near me. Wanna know something? I think, deep down, you wanted to get caught.”

Your head is already spinning too much to comprehend what he’s saying. All you know is that his voice has dropped several octaves and it’s making you incredibly, almost painfully, wet. Your eyes roll back in your head as Crane tugs at your zipper and helps you slip out of your dress. Your bra and panties are black lace, and Crane seems to admire them for a moment before unclasping the hooks and pulling off your bra.

“You’re pretty fucking twisted, but you do have a nice rack,” he comments. “I’ll let you take care of the rest.”

With shaking fingers, you slide the lacy waistband over your hips, relishing the soft scratch of fabric as it moves down your thighs. Once they’re pooled on the floor, you step delicately out of your panties, and look down at Crane, still sitting on the bed in front of you.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” he says. “I warned you that you’d have to do all the work.”

You straddle him, moving a bit too fast in your eagerness. You’re getting clumsy, but you don’t care. Planting your hands on his shoulders, you feel the way he glides into you as you lower yourself. So insanely good. The stretch as his cock is buried inside of you makes you see stars. You gasp, and then moan as your hips reach his.

“Feels better this way, right?” Crane teases. “A little risk always makes freaks like you cum faster.”

“Mmhmm,” you agree, barely listening to what he’s saying. 

“Go ahead and get yourself off,” Crane says. It almost sounds like a challenge. “Use me like a glorified dildo, just like you wanted.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders as you start moving, bouncing up and down on his cock as you chase your high. Crane stays still, letting you do all the work just like he said he would. You grind into him, desperate for friction against your clit, and wish more than anything that he’d reach up and play with your nipples. It’s a lewd thought, but you’re so far gone that you don’t care anymore, and eventually you move your hands to pinch them yourself.

The air in the room is getting hotter; thick with sex and filled with moans as you get closer and closer to your release. Crane stares at you, somehow managing to keep a straight face while he watches you fuck yourself on his dick. You press yourself close as you can as you grind down again.

“Gonna come!” you whine. 

And then you do; waves of pleasure crashing over you as the coil in your stomach finally lets go. Your legs shake, both your eyes squeeze shut, and you have to hold onto Crane’s shoulders to keep from falling right off the bed as you gush onto him. 

You’re panting with exertion as you come down from the high. Brain still foggy from the rush of endorphins and the elation of finally fulfilling your fantasy. And the best part is knowing that Crane got to feel all of it. The way you clenched around him; the way you screamed, shameless, as your love for him coated his cock. Getting to share the moment like this was better than you’d ever dared to dream of.

“Good girl,” Crane says. “Now do it again.”

Your eyes shoot open in disbelief. Crane looks up at you, smirking. 

“You heard me,” he growls. “You’re not done yet. I want to see you play with yourself.”

The only reply you can formulate is a moan, but Crane pays no mind to it as he grabs one of your sweaty hands and shoves it between your legs. 

“No moving, now,” he warns you. “Use your fingers and that’s it. My cock stays in you, but you don’t get to use it.”

It’s so hard not to swirl your hips, even just a little. You want so badly to feel that pressure of him, moving against your walls. Even staying still, he fills you up deliciously - but you want more. But, you do as he says and rub your clit, until you’re on the edge of another orgasm. 

“I-I’m close,” you whimper.

“That fast?” Crane taunts. “You’re really that desperate for me?”

You nod, biting your lip. You’re so close you can feel the heat rising in your chest. Your fingers press harder; your breathing goes shallow.

“Please fuck me!” you beg.

“Mm-mnn,” Crane refuses. “This is what you wanted, remember? Make yourself come for me.”

His words are all you need to tip past the point of no return. You cry out, almost shocked at the pleasure that rips through you once again, even more intense than the first time.

“Fuck…” you gasp.

You lower your head to Crane’s shoulder, exhausted after two orgasms back to back. Your sweat is slick against his skin, and it’s so good to rest for even a moment. Your whole body is buzzing so intensely, it feels like you could fall apart at any second.

“Think you can do one more for me?”

Crane’s voice is rough, and right in your ear. He’s relentless. Weakly, you shake your head no. You loll off the side of his shoulder, slumping against him as your body gives out.

“I think you can,” Crane insists. “Come on, you brought three condoms - must have had big plans.”

“Can’t…” you say.

It comes out as more of a breath than a word. Every ounce of your energy is gone.

“How disappointing,” Crane sighs. “And you haven’t even made me come once. I guess I’ll have to fix that.”

In the next instant, your back is pressed against the bed. Crane hovers over you, smug grin spreading across his face.

“I know this isn’t part of your plan,” Crane tells you. “You wanted to be the one in control. It scares you more than anything not to be. But honey, it’s time to accept the truth. You weren’t in control from the moment you stepped in this room.”

You feel his cock drag slowly out of you, before slamming back in so hard that the force lifts your hips off the bed. The shock makes you yelp.

“Doesn’t it feel so good to let go? You begged me to fuck you earlier. Really, I’m just giving you what you want.”

“Want… want you to cum in me,” you pant. 

Your eyes are heavy, but you open them to look at Crane as you say it. You watch his eyes darken as he looks down at you.

“Just like I thought,” he says. “You wanted it to go like this. Your little cocktail of Ambien and Viagra was just a safety net, pretend, so that you wouldn’t have to admit to yourself just how much the idea of losing control over me turned you on. But something got twisted in that fucked up little head of yours, and now you can only cum if I tell you to. Is that right?”

“Y-yes,” you whimper.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir,” you breathe. 

“Good.” Crane smiles darkly. “And now you’re going to come one more time for me. We’re not stopping until you do.”

You can tell that he’s serious, and you can already feel your third orgasm building. He's right, about all of it. He's read you like a book, and laid bare the things that you couldn't even admit to yourself. There's a terrifying intimacy in the way he seems to get inside your head, and maybe that is what you wanted all along.

You don't have long to consider it, though, because Crane is pulling at your wrist and bringing your fingers up to his lips. He sucks on your pointer and middle fingers, taking them into his mouth and swirling his tongue as he looks down at you. You're frozen in his glare, unable to look away despite feeling like you're on the verge of passing out.

When he's done, Crane moves your hand so that it's pressed between the two of you, wet fingers brushing against your clit. You squirm, and Crane smiles again. 

“Good girl.”

His thrusts are slower, but more powerful now. Even without moving your fingers, your clit is getting rubbed with each surge of his hips, as he forces your body into the mattress. 

“S-so close,” you gasp.

“I know, sweetheart,” Crane rasps in reply. “I can feel you trying to hold it back, but you won't be able to for long. Come on my cock again.”

As he orders, you obey. It really is impossible to deny him. Your chest feels like it's about to collapse as you stop sucking in air, and your mouth hangs open, useless, as you freeze in time for just a moment when the orgasm finally floods through you, dulling all your other senses. When you regain the slightest amount of control over your body, you cry out for him, rut your hips against his, bring your hands up to claw at his shoulders.

“I told you you'd do it,” Crane pants. “Now it's my turn.”

He pumps into you again, the friction against your too-sore clit almost unbearable. But you're so drunk off his cock that you don't care. The pain is pleasure by this point, and you hold tight to him in a desperate attempt to make him finish inside you, just like you wanted.

Crane is so much stronger than you, though, and he tears away just as he reaches his peak. He isn't careful with his aim; painting you and the bed with white lust as he empties messily, all over you. It's in your face; your hair; and splattered across your chest like fresh blood. You bask in the feeling of being marked by him.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Your chest is heaving with each breath. Crane, still on top of you, brushes a hand against your cheek and uses his thumb to collect some of his spent cum. He brings it down to your clit as he slips out of you, pressing against the still-sensitive nub.

“Ah!”

Overstimulated, you arch your back at his touch. His thumb is rough, but the lubrication of his cum on it feels good. He chuckles softly, and moves away.

“Get some rest,” Crane tells you. His eyes gloss over the bedside table, to where the syringe still waits. “You have a very long night ahead of you… I don't think that we've gotten even, yet.”