#Remote Boot Unlock

[vmantras]

OLA S1 Pro Plus Gen 3 Review: The Future of Electric Scooters

1. First Impressions: Design Meets Intelligence From the moment you glance at the OLA S1 Pro Plus Gen 3, its visual identity makes a statement—sleek, minimalistic, futuristic. Unlike many electric scooters that simply swap a petrol engine for a battery, this scooter is born electric. Its fluid, curvaceous body feels more like consumer tech than conventional transport. The 12-inch alloy wheels…

[spokenforyou]

sylus x fem reader

TAKE CARE

synopsis: sylus comes home after a run in, wounded. and you decide to take care of him, in more ways than one.

warnings: dirty talk, unprotected intercourse, cream pie, vulgar language, mentions of wounds and blood, mentions of bruises, praise kink, spanking, m oral receiving .

wc- 2.4k

[minors don’t interact… by choosing to interact with this content, you are consenting to view something that is not appropriate and nsfw despite warnings!]

9:26 pm

Sylus is late.

You sit on the couch, curled up under a blanket watching a movie. A random romance movie filling the empty house with sound as you wait for Sylus to get back home from work.

You begin to worry, he called you around an hour ago, saying he’d be on his way.

Because of course, he had to hear your sweet voice. But he’s late.

You fight the urge to call him or spam his phone, even though you know he doesn’t care, he prefers it.

You sigh as you repeatedly check the time 9:40 comes around and you decide to send him a text.

You: Baby, are you alright? I didn’t wanna bother you, but I’m getting worried.

You set down your phone and lock it before returning your attention to the movie. As you see the couple on screen all you can think of is Sylus.

Your boyfriend of nearly a year and a half, the man you are in love with wholeheartedly. Reaching down you begin to twiddle with the collarbone necklace he bought you. Your phone dings and you nearly jump in your seat.

It’s Sylus.

Sy: I got caught up kitten. Late approach, I’m in the car right now. I’m sorry, give me 5 minutes or so, see you then.

You sigh of relief but can’t stop to wonder what caught him so late.

Not even three minutes pass and you hear a car door shut, you jump out of your seat this time. Haven’t seen Sylus since 2 pm, you rush to the door and unlock it. You quickly open it and run out of the mansion to him.

Sylus locks eyes with you as he heads towards the house, he braces himself for a jumping hug and chuckles.

You jump into his arms, wrapping your own around his neck as his wraps around your back. The height difference allows your legs to dangle.

He holds you until you decide to let go, knowing you love to be clingy, and he doesn’t mind at all. “Someone missed me?” He mutters against your hair. You drop yourself to the ground and finally get a look at him.

His clothes were bloody and he had a couple of bruises scattered on his face and arms. You feel your heart stop as you look at him.

“Sy, what happened…” You whisper as you reach up and touch his face.

He winces as you near a bruise. “A run in. I’m alright sweetie, come on.” He chuckles, brushing it off and leads you inside, locking the car with a remote as we head in.

He opens the door and closes it behind us as we step into the hallway.

“Sy… Let me look. I can help, you know I enjoy taking care of you.” You look up at him as he takes off his combat boots.

“Baby, I’m okay. But if you want to, I won’t deny you.” Sylus chuckles before taking your hand and leading you further into the mansion.

“Bathroom, the first aid kit is in there.” You squeeze his hand and he nods, leading you there.

Once you’re both in the bathroom, he switches on the light and sits on the closed toilet lid, to allow you to get to him with ease. His crimson eyes look up at you as he finally gets a good look at you.

“Pretty girl.” He says with no shame and you blush as you playfully roll your eyes. You turn and open a cabinet, grabbing the first aid kit.

Moving back over to Sylus, you stand in front of him. “Let’s get your shirt off, the blood is gonna only stain more the longer it sits.” You reach to take off his shirt and he nods but takes it off for you. He tosses the shirt somewhere and lets you continue.

“Sweetie, I’m not worried about the shirt. You and I both know I have enough money to buy a million of them.” He laughs, his deep voice echoing in the bathroom.

“Yeah you’re right, but still.” You chuckle and look down at his broad chest. Dried blood scatters across his skin and it tugs at your heart, you know his wounds heal themselves but it still upsets you.

Sylus watches your eyes waver and he takes your hand. “Sweetie, you know no one can hurt me right? No one can kill me either, only you can grant me death. Don’t worry okay?” He rubs your hand in his, and you nod.

“Sylus, I just… I don’t like to see you like this.” You sigh and you pull away for a quick second to grab a washcloth, wetting it.

“I know you don’t, and it makes me happy that you care so much about me. But they’re healed for the most part, other than the bruises. ” Sylus watches as you bring the wet cloth to his bloody chest, wiping gently.

“Bruises take longer don’t they?” You whisper as you focus and he hums in agreement.

“The one on your face Sy… They punched your pretty face.” You look at him and sigh as your eyes land on the huge bruise on his jaw.

He chuckles at your silent compliment. “You can always make me pretty again until it heals.” His eyes scan over your features, appreciating the beauty of you.

“Would you let me do your makeup?” Smiling at him, you stop wiping his chest as it’s wiped clean.

“Wouldn’t mind, if it made you happy I wouldn’t object it. You know I’d do anything you asked me to.” Sylus smiles and glances as you grab a hot pad from the first aid kit.

“So if I asked you to jump off a cliff, would you do it?” You joke as you press ever so gently to his jawbone bruise and he closes his eyes briefly.

“Mhm. Anything.” Sylus mutters as he takes in the heat. His words make you smile ear to ear, although you’d never ask him to jump off a cliff.

“Baby?” He speaks up all of a sudden and it catches you off guard.

“Yeah, Sy?” You look down at him with curiosity, his arm patting your hip.

“Why don’t you sit on my lap, your legs are gonna start hurting. And this time it won’t be from me.” He chuckles, and you nod realizing that your legs truly do hurt from standing so long.

You sit on Sylus’ lap and he leans back to give you room to continue. His hands coming to rest on your hips.

“Does the bruise feel any better?” You look at Sylus, running a hand through his silver hair. He leans into your touch and nods.

“Got a couple on my arms but you don’t have to worry about those. The only one that hurts is the jaw.” He smiles softly before squeezing your hip.

You nod and giggle, “I know I just sat down, but my work is done.” He gives you a disapproving look and shakes his head.

“No, you aren’t.” Sylus smirks, and you lift a brow.

“What exactly did I miss?” You scan over his face and torso once more, checking for any marks you might’ve missed. You hear his low chuckle and your attention is brought back to his face.

“My lips sweetie.” He whispers before gripping your face in his palm and kissing you. He holds you ever so gently in his grasp and you wrap your arms around his neck like you did earlier.

His lips were tender and soft against yours, tasting mint on him.

Sylus slowly pulls away before giving you a small peck. Whispering he squeezes you again, “All mine…”

“All yours.” You repeat and he smiles, his gaze dropping to your lips once again. He quickly stands, wrapping your legs around his waist he leaves the bathroom with you.

“Sylus!” You giggle. “Where are you taking me?” You continue to laugh as he props you up higher.

He smiles at the tone of your voice. “To bed kitten.” Sylus kicks open the bedroom door and carries you over to the bed before laying you down and climbing on top of you.

“You know… There’s one more bruise.” He smirks as he hovers over you. Your eyes widen but then you catch on.

“Where exactly?” You chuckle and he holds his cocky expression before leaning down and grinding against you.

“Mmm, I think it might be there… Wanna check for me, sweetie?” Sylus’ hardness is evident as he grinds one more time. Honestly, you were shocked he got hard so fast. Yet again you were on his lap, and just looking at you gives him a semi.

“I’ll check…” You nod and he bites his bottom lip between his teeth before moving off of you. You allow him to situate himself to lie down on the bed, his upper body propped up by pillows.

You look down at the tent in his pants, gently nudging it with your hand, earning a hiss. “Where’d this giant bruise come from Sy?” You play along with his act and he smirks.

“Mmm, think from some pretty girl.” He looks at you his red eyes darker than ever.

“She must’ve been beautiful.” You smile and unzip the two zippers on his pants, his chest heaving with anticipation as you do so.

“Yeah, she is… Such a beauty.” Sylus whispers as you nudge on his pants, he lifts his hips enough for you to slide them off. But to his surprise, you yank off his boxers at the same time.

His cock springs out and slaps against his stomach, thick and dripping for you. He groans as the cool air hits his head and you giggle.

You run your fingers along his shaft and pretend to inspect. His brows furrowed as he bites back groans from the lightest touch. The most dangerous and wanted man in Philos falling apart from the slightest touch.

“i swear there’s pain from something…” Sylus tangles his hands in your locks and smirks.

“Maybe I need to check another way?” You look up at him before bringing his member to your mouth, immediately taking it in.

“Fuck baby…” He groans, low in his throat as you take him in, tongue rubbing against his tip, before you pull it out. You give kitten licks to the swollen red tip, and he hisses.

“Living up to your nickname huh? Shit…” He finally lets out a moan. His moans are the most beautiful thing you’ve heard and it never fails to make you pool between your thighs. You give the head a few more kisses before taking it back in.

He moans louder when you wrap your hand around the base that you can’t fit, stroking in time with your bobs. “Just like that… So good.”

You move your hand off his shaft and to his balls, gently fondling them. “Y/n baby… if you keep doing that I’ll cum.” He warns you and you continue.

He groans and feels himself get closer to the edge as you massage and suck him. “Baby…” He moans one last time before he grunts and finishes in your mouth.

His taste is something you so desperately craved, ropes shooting down your throat you moan around his length. He squeezes his eyes shut as that causes him to shoot out more cum.

Pulling you to him he kisses you, groaning at the taste of himself on your lips. His tongue slides into your mouth, he brings you to straddle him. He lowers you and you gasp, feeling his cock against your bare pussy. When the fuck did he take my clothes off? You think to yourself.

And then you realize, his evol. “Sylus!” You scold him.

“Had to baby… Couldn’t wait.” He laughs and lowers you down into him, his girth stretching you to maximum capacity. Thank god you were wet enough.

He groans and squeezes your hips, leaving bruises of their own as he attempts to bottom out. “So tight…” Sylus growls and thrusts up into you gathering more wetness.

You loosen around him and moan as he slowly thrusts up into you, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Meet me halfway baby…” He whispers and you begin to bounce, meeting his thrusts. The sounds of your thighs slapping against his fill the room.

“Sylus…” You moan his name and he groans.

“You’re all mine baby…” He growls.

You bounce faster and he smirks as he finally sees all his length make its way into you, head bruising your cervix. He bulges into your stomach and he places a hand on it letting out a needy moan.

“I fucking love when you ride me kitten… Always do so good. Look so pretty” He watches you intensely, every face you make engraved in his brain.

“Sy… My legs hurt.” You whisper and he nods.

“That’s alright, here let me do it for you. Let me take care of you.” Sylus takes over immediately and thrusts up into you, lifting himself off the bed to hit deeper. “Just relax for me, let me make you feel good.”

You feel yourself tightening and you moan louder, feeling your walls clench him he moans. “Gonna cum for me pretty? Let go for me.” He kisses you sloppily but passionately, intertwining your hands as he resonates with you. Your hands glow and intense pleasure courses through the both of you.

Your back arches and you come undone on him, essence sliding down his shaft as he slows his movements, making love to you as you finish.

Sylus moans and fills you with his cum not even a minute later, painting your womb while he lets out a string of pretty moans. “Fucking hell… I love you so much.”

His thrusts finally stop and he stays situated inside of you while he softens, you both pant heavily and he rubs your back before lifting you. His cock slips out with a wet pop and he returns you to his chest.

You whine at the lack of fullness and he smirks. “Miss me that bad already?” Sylus leans down and presses a kiss to your lips.

“Always.” You mumble and he chuckles.

“Always take such good care of me, sweetie. My pretty girl.” He pushes hair behind your ear that had fallen onto your face.

“Likewise…” You giggle and he playfully smacks your ass.

“Now let’s go shower, yeah?” He smirks as he looks at you and you roll your eyes.

“No funny business.” You laugh and get off his lap to stand beside the bed, legs wobbling.

“Just gonna take care of you. Aftercare~” He gives you a mischievous grin and leads you into the bathroom.

You mentally curse yourself as you prepare yourself for more “care.”

[yeonzzzn]

I'm in a spooky vibe rn and I've been thinking about one of the enha members (hyung line) with a scream mask ( y'know from the movie sjshsj) about to m*rder reader but idk they get turned on and both got freaky 🫦

fffuuuuccccckkkk anon your brain is 😍 love this idea so much (fun fact scream is my favorite slasher movie and I even have a ghost face tattoo) I hope this is exactly what you’re looking for🤭 it’s funny because I also main ghost face in dead by daylight so when I saw this request I got SOOOO happy ~ I also made this a lot longer than I expected to but oops🤭🤭

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chill & kill: sim jaeyun

part one of chilling & killing 🔪 | spotify playlist

pairing: jake x afab!reader word count: 6.4k

You sit up on the couch, eyes widening as you grab the TV remote and turn up the volume. 

“The mysterious ghost face kill strikes again, killing two more college students in the library this morning. The bodies were discovered by…”

You quickly shot to your feet, grabbing your jacket and camera and slipping your feet into your boots tying them quickly as you slipped out your dorm door. 

You never were so happy to live on campus as you ran from the dorm building and across campus to the library. Students surrounded the main entrance and you pushed your way through finally seeing the inside of the library. 

“Hey!” a police officer yelled at you when you slipped under the caution tape, “You can’t be back here!” 

You eyed him, pulling out your student journaling ID, “I have every right to be here.” 

The officer tried to protest, but you kept your stride, making your way to the bodies ignoring the yelling officer behind you. 

The closer you got, the more the smell of blood filled your senses, making your skin crawl. Your journaling partner was already on the scene, standing at the edge of the other caution tape marking off the two bodies. 

You stood beside him, your heart sinking as you took in the bodies of the two females lying dead in front of you. They were just freshmen. Barely made it into college and fully started their lives. 

From what you could see, they were stabbed multiple times in the chest and abdomen. One of their necks was slit, and the other looked like they were stabbed through their throat. They suffered, for sure. 

“Who found them?” you asked him, taking your eyes off the dead bodies and turning to your partner. He had one arm crossed over his chest and gripped his elbow as his other arm was reached up and fingers gripping his chin. 

He slowly tilted his head to look at you, streaks of his black hair fell into his eyes, “Funny enough,” he sighs, “Sunghoon and myself.” 

You completely turned your whole body to him, “That’s why you’re here before me?! Jake, what happened?!” 

Jake chucked, “You're more worried that I was here before you?” you narrowed your eyes at him, and he sighed again, completely wrapping his arms over his chest, looking back at the bodies. You could have sworn you saw a sparkle glint in his eyes. Jake has always been excited to be on the scene, same as you. But he enjoyed it a little bit more than you. He’ll make one damn good detective one day for sure, “Wanted to check out a book and saw the door already unlocked for the campus not even fully being opened yet. And that's when we found the bodies.” 

“Where is Sunghoon now?” you asked, looking around the library, spotting him with the librarian and being questioned by a detective. 

You went to walk over, to ask him questions, but Jake stopped you, putting a hand on your shoulder and pulling you towards him, his arm wrapping around over your chest, “Don’t question him, he’s really shaken up,” You wanted to protest, only for Jake to squeeze you tightly against him, your back pressing further into his chest, “Please, YN, he’s my best friend. I’ll take care of it. I promise.” 

You sigh and nod. Letting Jake take the lead with this one. 

But you still had a job to do. So you pulled out your camera, taking a few photos. Once you finished with the photos, you pulled your journal from your back pocket, asked Jake a few questions, and took his account down then turned back to the bodies and took your own notes. 

You circled the area, taking in every inch and piece of information you could. Jotting down everything in your little notebook. 

Jake kept his eyes on you, watching you do your thing. His eyes sparkled more the longer his eyes lingered on you. He eventually dropped his gaze and went back to looking at his best friend, watching as he sat at one of the tables, knees pressed to his chest and hands curled into his hair. The small smile Jake had fell at the sight of his best friend and—

“Jake!” You called for him, bringing his attention back to you, “I think I found something.” 

“Oh?” He walks over to you and kneels down on the floor beside you, your camera resting on your knees as you point your finger toward one of the dead girls, “What am I looking at honey?” 

You groaned and rolled your eyes, “Under her body, there’s a black glove,” you looked at Jake. His jaw clenched tightly, “The killer must have accidentally lost it, dropped it, or whatever. Maybe she fought them or something. I don’t know. But I want to figure it out.” 

You took a few close-up photos of the glove and turned back around to show Jake, noticing a scratch mark sliding down the left side of his neck. You hadn’t seen it before since you were standing on his right side, but it looked deep and irritated, “What happened there?” You reached up to touch it, but he grabbed your hand quickly and set it down at your side. 

“Hoon and I were wrestling earlier at our apartment and I hit the side of our entertainment center, I am fine.” 

You thinned your lips into a line, boys will be boys you guess. Their apartment was a lot smaller than the dorms on campus, they must have been fucking around at a good spot to have knocked Jake into their entertainment center. 

Eventually, the police shooed you and Jake off the scene. Forcing you two to head to the journaling office. You printed off the photos you took and made copies of your notes, passing them to Jake. 

You glanced at the clock, it was now ten thirty am and classes would be resuming like normal, so you and Jake went your separate ways. 

Jake was still new to being a journalist. You were a club of two, consisting of just you and another girl who helped write the articles for you while you took care of the rest. She wrote her own things, mostly on the sports or other small crimes that happen on campus, but with the ghost face killer making his rounds, you took up the role of this case with her helping on the side. At first, you took it all on yourself, but as the body count started piling up, you needed the help. So you let her help and put out an application for an extra set of hands, which Jake answered. 

You’ve seen him around campus before he joined you. Was born and raised in this town. Being the town's sweetheart and golden puppy boy. You did some research on him before allowing him into your club, can’t have the killer join you, right?

He was the captain of his soccer team in middle and high school. Has taken his school’s team to the championships multiple times and was the heartthrob of the school. He donated to charity when he could and volunteered at the police station on the weekends in hopes of landing a good detective job there after graduation. He was the whole definition of a straight-A good boy student. Perfect for your team. He became your partner and you taught him everything you knew. When Jake joined, the body count from this ghost face killer was only three. But with the two bodies that were found today, it was now at fifteen. 

In between your classes, you found yourself back at the club office, pinning the new photos to the corkboard in the back of the room, wrapping red string between the pushpins and possible suspects. After staring at the corkboard for what felt like hours, the other female club member came in and you helped her write the article. Give her your notes and advising as she writes. 

Jake popped in and out of the office as well, brainstorming with you about the suspects and the time of events that happened. You both spun in circles that led to nowhere. You ask Jake again about speaking to Sunghoon, and he shoots you down, “Give him some time. I’ll get the police report soon and it’ll help, I am sure.” 

A week has gone by since the murder in the library. You ended up shifting the corkboard from the office and into the corner of your kitchen, using the fluorescent light of the kitchen bulbs to light the board more. You leaned against the back of your couch, it being the furthest you could step away from the board. Biting at your nails as your eyes scanned every murder case. Every newspaper article and police report on the board. 

Nothing made sense. Nothing connected. Whoever this killer was, they were good. Covered their tracks without so much as a piece of hair at any scene of their crimes. Until the glove. 

You ran your hands into your long hair, scratching at the back of your head. You needed that police report that Jake still has yet to give you. Needed to speak to Sunghoon. There were missing pieces and those two things were important. You looked over to the clock above the kitchen sink. It was almost one thirty in the morning. But you still got up and slid into your sneakers, pulled your jacket on, and bounced out the door. 

Finding yourself in front of Jake and Sunghoon’s front door, knocking loudly. There was no answer. So you did the next best thing and called Jake’s cell phone. 

There was some shuffling on the other end of the door and a groan. The door opened and you find a half-awake Jake before you, his hair a mess and spreading in every direction, wearing a plain white tee shirt and a pair of black and blue checkered boxers, “YN,” he sleepily growled and then yawned, “It’s almost two am, what is it?” 

“Can I have the police report?” 

Jake blinked at you, “Huh?” 

You crossed your arms, “The police report. Can I have it?” 

Jake let out another yawn, “It’s at the school, in the office.” 

Of course, it was. And the campus is closed and if you get caught sneaking in just to get a piece of paper…You sigh, “Thanks anyway,” you softly say, and turn around to walk down the stairs but stop, “Can I talk to Sunghoon?”

Jake scoffs, leaning against the doorframe, “It’s almost two am,” he repeats, “Why are you out here so late? There’s a literal killer running around here.” 

You knew that. And still took that risk to come out here. The killer had to be a student at your college. Every murder had been college kids. It had to be another student. That’s what made being out here so dangerous. 

“I know,” you shrugged, “But I can’t stand by and do nothing.” 

Jake frowned, “You know you’re allowed to actually be a college student right? Live a normal life too?” you shrugged again, and he just scoffed again, “YN, go home and rest. Let the detectives with actual badges handle it. We can only do so much.” 

You narrow your eyes at him, “Let me speak to Sunghoon.” 

Jake stands his ground, “No. Go. Home. Before you get yourself killed.” 

You roll your eyes, “See you tomorrow then.” 

Jake mimicked your words and watched as you walked down the steps before walking back inside and going back to sleep. 

You didn’t understand why Jake was so against you speaking to Sunghoon. Maybe he was being protective? Sunghoon didn’t look the best after finding the bodies. He was probably so shaken up. But it only made you want to speak to him more. And that need only grew more when you noticed Sunghoon’s car wasn’t in its normal parking spot beside Jake’s. 

Meaning he wasn’t home. 

You’ve respected Jake’s wishes on not to talk to Sunghoon, but this matter was getting serious and Sunghoon just might be the big break you needed. So you quickly walked off the apartment complex, glancing back to make sure Jake was outside, and pulled your phone from your pocket as you kept walking and dialed a number. 

“Hello?” 

“Sunghoon, where are you right now?” 

—

You found him atop the bleachers of the soccer field just like he said he would be. A soccer ball sat between his feet, grass scuff marks were at the ends of his jeans, and sleeves of his hoodie rolled up to his elbows and sweat dripped down the side of his face. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he came here to kick the ball around. Probably as a distraction. 

You sat down beside him, “How are you holding up?” 

Sunghoon scoffs, “Holding up as in a week ago I found two dead bodies in the middle of the library or holding up because I’ve been questioned left and right by everyone or my best friend/roommate has smothered me to stay home and take time.” 

You felt bad for him, mostly for what you’re about to ask him. He wanted to obviously forget what he saw, who could blame him? It takes special people to see a dead body and not be fazed by it. 

“I’m sorry for asking you to do this again…” 

Sunghoon just shrugs, “If I am being honest, I’ve wanted to talk to you for a while now.” 

You raised your brow, “Yeah?” 

He nodded, “Jake was against it,” he took a deep breath, “Something was off that day…with him.” 

“What do you mean?” You placed a hand on his knee, “You can tell me anything. Start with the beginning.” 

Sunghoon looked you in your eyes, then looked off into the distance at the field, “He told me that morning he was meeting our coach, for a one-on-one coaching session. At first, I didn’t think anything about it, being he was a soccer prodigy or whatever.” You nodded, remembering how much of the soccer star Jake was back in high school, “So you could probably understand my surprise when I got a call from our coach saying he tried to get ahold of Jake and then he confirmed with me that they did in fact not have a meeting that day.” 

You sat back against the bleacher seat behind you, staring off onto the field, letting the gears in your brain slowly turn, waiting for Sunghoon to continue. 

“I got scared, rushing out of the apartment and searching everywhere for him. Scared and thinking I was going to find my best friend murdered somewhere, ya know?” You understood, with this killer on the loose everyone was watching their backs and afraid. Who would be next? Who is next? “But I found him, lingering around the library building, digging through his soccer duffle bag. My heart almost stopped when I saw him…alive,” he took a deep breath, “So I confronted him, and he played it off that he did have a practice, but was with his coach from high school.” 

You looked back at him, to read his face. Seeing how pale his skin was becoming, “I believed him at first, thinking maybe I misheard that morning. So we started walking back, but he kept digging through the duffle bag, looking frantic. He wasn’t acting himself. Said something about needing to go to the library, about finding a book or something, and then took off. But I followed after him. I didn’t want to leave him alone, not with ghost face running around. But when I got to the library, I…couldn’t find him. I saw him go through the back door instead of the front. But once I walked in and noticed all the doors were already unlocked���then I found the bodies.” 

You squeezed his knee, “It’s okay.” 

He nodded, swallowing and looking down at the soccer ball, “I smelt the blood first and then noticed their bodies. And then…then there were footsteps behind me and I knew that I was next. But the library walked in through the front entrance and started screaming, her eyes darting to me, saying we did it. I turned around to see Jake standing behind me. His skin was pale and sweaty. Eyes wide as he stared back at me and then at the bodies and the librarian. He’s never been surprised to see the bodies. He’s been working with you for over half a year. So when I saw the look on his face…the surprise that was there.” 

You opened your mouth to speak, but Sunghoon kept going, “The weirdest thing is his duffle bag was missing from his shoulder,” Sunghoon scoffs, “How did it just disappear.” It was a good question. A very good one. “He hasn’t been the same since then.” 

You tried to lighten the mood, “Maybe you knocked something loose in his head when the two of you wrestled the other day.” Sunghoon gave you a confused look, “You know? He said you two got too close to your TV stand and he got scuffed up by the edge of it. Making a scratch on his neck,” you pointed to the right side, tracing a finger down the side of your neck to mimic where Jake has his slowly fading scar now, “It’s right here.” 

Sunghoon raised a brow, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We haven’t wrestled inside the apartment.” Your smile faded. Sunghoon’s phone started vibrating and he pulled it from his pocket, seeing Jake’s caller ID on the screen, “Guess he noticed I wasn’t home.” Sunghoon locked his phone, ignoring the call, “I haven’t been telling him when I’ve left the apartment. So I better prepare myself with a talk when I get back.” He stood up and started walking down the bleachers, “Thank you for listening to me, I don’t want to suspect my best friend, and it probably isn’t even him. He’s just weird, I guess.” 

You watched as he disappeared before standing up and finally finding yourself back at your dorm and in bed. Replaying Sunghoon’s story over and over, trying to piece it all together. It still didn’t make sense. None of it did. Nevertheless, it didn’t stop you from texting Jake, asking him to meet you at your dorm as soon as he could tomorrow, and him responding he had soccer practice but would be here right after. 

—

“You should really keep your front door locked, YN, there’s a killer out there.” Jake teased you as he made himself at home, dropping his duffle bag into a chair at your kitchen table, his eyes going to the corkboard, “Make any progress yet?” 

You stared down at the duffle bag quickly before looking up at him, then back to the board, “No I haven’t. I left my door unlocked on purpose. Knew you’d be coming here.” 

Jake smiled at you and stood beside you at the back of your couch, looking at the board, “We’ll catch him, don’t worry honey.” 

You glanced at him slightly, your heart winced at the nickname he’d given you. You looked to his neck, seeing the scratch still healing but faded, being nothing more than a pink line. 

Jake looked down at you, giving a smile, “Can I freshen up in your bathroom? I bet I don’t smell the greatest from practice.” 

You scrunch your nose, “Yes, please. You smell.” 

Jake just rolls his eyes playfully and slides his hand up and down your back quickly before leaving your side, “I’m stealing your deodorant.” 

You waited until you saw him turn the corner and heard the bathroom door close and lock before slowly walking to his duffle bag. 

You didn’t want to suspect Jake anymore than Sunghoon did. But his story last night didn’t add up. No part of it did. Jake’s actions didn’t add up. Jake’s story he gave you didn’t match Sunghoon’s or the librarian's. None of the pieces were adding up no matter how much you tried to force the pieces together. 

You looked down the hallway, then back at the bag, and slowly unzipped it, your hand flying to your mouth quickly to stop any noise from coming out. You took a couple of deep breaths and continued looking into the bag. 

The police report you asked for along with the glove from the scene of the crime was in the bag in a ziplock bag. Along with the other matching glove and the ghost face mask and the black suit. You pulled the mask out of the bag with shaky hands. Why did Jake have these items? You knew. You knew why and still tried to find another explanation. But after seeing the contents of his bag…the pieces of the puzzle fit. Everything clicked and made sense. 

“Don’t you know it’s rude to go through people’s things, honey?” before you could move, a knife was pressed to your neck and his other arm was wrapped around your waist, “I expected better from you than to snoop around.” 

Jake’s hot breath was hitting your ear, sending chills down your spine. Any doubts you had were now out the window. Jake is ghost face. Jake is the killer. 

“Keeping secrets is very rude too,” you retorted back, dropping the mask back into his bag, “But I figured you already knew that I found out, hint why you leave your bag so easily for me to look through.” 

Jake chuckles, squeezing his arm around you and pressing the knife further against your skin, “Can’t get anything past you, can I?” 

“Why?” you asked, tilting your head at the movement of him brushing the side of his face to yours. 

“Why did I do it?” he nuzzled his nose on the shell of your ear, “You’ll need to be specific, honey.” 

You swallowed, “Everything.” 

Jake chuckles again, “Because it’s fun.” It was such a simple yet spine-chilling answer, “You think I played this fucking good boy persona because I actually wanted to? No, no. I had to play that persona. To hide my secret. This is all a game to me, YN.” 

“It’s why you joined our club,” you swallowed again, “To make it harder for us to figure you out.” 

Jake shrugs, gently biting at the shell of your ear then rubbing his nose against it again, “I thought it would add to the fun, honestly. Yeah having an inside made it so much easier. It covered my tracks well. Until you started picking up on every. Fucking. Thing.” he hissed, tightening his grip, “You made it harder to cover up my tracks. Picking apart every smallest thing with each murder. I was lucky you didn’t suspect me, that was until you started poking your nose more into my business, you don’t think I didn’t know you tore the office apart looking for the police report before coming to my apartment? That you talked to Sunghoon even after I told you not to?” 

“You have our phones and the office bugged,” this should surprise you, but it doesn’t. It made sense. 

He pressed his lips to your ear, “Smart girl. Think I wouldn’t bug your phone? Or my best friends?” 

“Jake, you were going to kill him, weren’t you.” 

Another low chuckle, “Yes,” your body stilled, feeling cold, “It would have been a pity, really, to kill off my best friend all because he also stuck his nose where he shouldn’t have.” 

You looked down at his bag, seeing the bag gloved, “You went back to the library for the glove, you fucked up.” 

He growled in your ear, “Shut up! That bitch fought me instead of taking it. I didn’t even realize my glove was gone until after I murdered them both and fled the scene. That’s when Sunghoon showed up. I knew I had to go back and find where the fuck my glove went before someone else did. I didn’t know he was following me until I went to go back and check the bodies after tearing apart the other side of the library and saw him standing there. I quietly set my bag in one of the reading rooms and locked the door, slipping my knife into the back of my jeans. Preparing myself to kill my best friend.”

“All to keep your fucking secret,” you snapped at him, his hands on your body getting tighter.

“Watch it, honey,” he hissed, “You do have a knife to your throat right now.” 

“She fought you right? Probably knocked off your mask too. She saw your face, and you acted quickly and sliced her throat. Not before she left her own scratch on your neck.” 

Jake nodded, a wide smile on his face, “Nothing gets past you. You’d make a great detective someday, honey.” 

You needed to turn him in. Needed to get out of here and turn him in before he could kill anyone else. Fifteen. He’s murdered fifteen people. Probably more before he took up the ghost face mantle.

Jake pressed his chest to your back, “You know,” he whispers, “I’ve dreamed about doing this with you, my knife to your throat,” he rocked his hips against your ass, “It’s so fucking hot.” 

It was now or never. You tilted your head to the side, taking the skin of his forearm between your teeth and biting hard. 

“Fuck!” he shouted, his hand flexing and dropping the knife to the floor and his grip on you loosening. 

You pushed him back with your back and sent him falling to his ass. You barely made it two steps away from him before both of his hands were on your ankles, tripping you to the floor and pulling you towards him. 

You kicked your legs but not getting out of his strong grip. Jake worked fast to flip you over onto your back, his hands now at your wrists and holding them up and above your hand, pinning them to the floor. He straddled you, locking his legs around yours to keep you from wiggling them. 

“Stop fighting me!” he growled, using all his weight to pin you to the floor. 

You stopped, chest rising and falling as you stared up at his beautiful killing face. 

He held your wrists down with one hand and reached for his knife with the other, chuckling as he once again held the knife to your throat, “You look so pretty like this baby, all underneath me like this.” 

Jake was so turned on by this. He’s only dreamed of having you pinned underneath him with his favorite weapon against your skin. Dreamed what you’d sound and look like. This passed his expectations. It went even further than that. His cock twitched in his pants seeing the look of anger all over your face. 

“You get horny every time you kill someone?” you spat out at him, the fire in your eyes burning. 

Jake cocked his head, “You’re not afraid of me?” 

“Why would I be afraid of a horn dog who likes killing people?” 

Jake laughs, adjusting his legs from yours, using his knees to spread your legs apart, sliding himself between them, “Baby, you’re the only one I’ve ever got horny over. The others were just killings to kill. But you? You do something to me.” 

From the moment Jake first saw you on campus he wanted to be buried balls deep in your cunt. Wanted to fuck you so hard as he softly made cuts on your arms to watch you bleed as your moans of pain and pleasure filled his ear holes. Wanted to cum so deep within you and make you his. 

He had more than just joined the club to hide his killings as his reason. He wanted to get closer to you, get to know you. Then kill you after he got his dick wet. But what he didn’t expect was you figuring him out so soon. His plans got pushed up. He wanted you afraid of him as he killed you. He didn’t expect you to look at him with fury, so unafraid. 

Jake leaned down, being inches away from your face, the knife pressing harder against your neck, “You get me so hard,” he rocked his hips between you, his hard cock rubbing against your clothed cunt. You tried to not whimper, to keep your firm face, but the effect he was having on you down south was obvious. He wasn’t stupid, you knew that. 

You’d be lying if you said you haven’t been crushing on Jake since he walked into the club for the first time. How couldn’t you? He was perfect. Still was as he sat atop you with a knife to your neck. 

You relaxed your body, “If you’re going to kill me, then do it.” 

Jake smiled, “Want me to?” He released your hands from his grip and slid the knife from your neck and down to your shirt, his free hand looping his fingers at the collar, using the knife to cut a line, tearing the fabric and exposing your laced bra and skin. Jake tucked his lip between his teeth. Fuck you looked so much better than what you did in his dreams. So much better than he imagined. He slid the tip of the knife down your chest, rounding it around your breast and down your sternum, “Where should I start?” He placed both hands at the sides of your head and bent down, lips brushing against yours, “Tell me, baby.” 

You lifted your head, connecting your lips to his. Taking in the taste of his cherry chapstick and the softness of his lips. He rocked his hips against yours, moaning into your mouth, “Start by taking the rest of my clothes off.” 

He laughs against your lips and then pulls away, setting the knife down at your side to pull his famous white tee shirt off his body, “Yeah?” you nodded, eyes darting to his bare chest and abs, “So fucking dirty,” he cooed, “Should have known you were into killers.” 

You sat up on your elbows, ready to reach for the button of his jeans, but found the knife back in his hand and the tip pointing at your chest, “Lay back down, baby, no need to be so impatient.” 

His free hand touched your shoulder and gently pressed you back to the floor. You kept your eyes on him as he unbuttoned his jeans, the knife still in hand as he wiggled out of his jeans and boxers, leaving him bare to you. 

You watched as he took his length between his fingers, slowly pumping himself, him biting his lips. You were growing too impatient. Needing to feel him against you, in you, “Jake,” 

“Shhh, honey,” he whispers, dropping his hands to your shorts, “I know.” 

The cool metal of the knife brushed your skin as he pulled your shorts and panties down your thighs. Goosebumps formed on your skin and making Jake chuckle, enjoying this more than he’d thought, “You love the way my knife feels against you?” He tossed your clothing somewhere off into the void of the room, settling himself back between your legs, his tip prodding your entrance, “love the way it feels to glide against your skin?” He sent the knife sliding up your tummy, his hips pushing his cock in your pussy, slowly stretching you. 

Jake bottomed out, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. He hissed out in pure pleasure of finally being buried so deep inside you, the pleasure of how fucking good you felt wrapped around him, “fuck baby,” he smiles, sliding the knife to your waist, wanting to cut open your skin and see how pretty your blood would look pooling out, “feel so good and I’m not even moving.” 

You bucked your hips up against him, wanting to feel any kind of friction. Jake drops the knife to the floor, his hands pinning your arms above your head again, “I told you to stop being so impatient.” 

“Jae, please,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist, “I need you.” 

Hearing you beg for him had him gone and all he cared about now was fucking you. To make you feel so good until you’re cumming around his dick. 

Jake started out slow, burying his face in your neck, “Why aren’t you afraid, hmm? I could kill you right now.” 

You leaned into him, squeezing your legs tighter on him to push him even further into you, “Because I have secrets of my own.” 

Jake chuckled, bucking his hips harder and faster into yours, his lips pressing to yours. Tongue sliding down your throat and exploring your mouth. One hand leaving yours to cup your breast, his thumb and index finger pinching your nipple, “Tell me your secrets.” 

“You already seem to know them all, stalker,” you hissed, throwing your head back against the floor at him pinching your nipple harder in the same movement of him pushing his dick hard against your cervix, pressing so hard to break whatever barrier that was stopping him from completely filling you whole as his hip bones knocked against yours. 

“Tell me anyway,” he whispers between kisses, now sliding his mouth down to your ear, licking the shell of it, “I don’t know what you haven’t texted or physically talked about.” 

“I have feelings for you,” you felt insane saying it out loud. Felt crazy that you even admitted it to him. To the person who was fucking you into pure bliss. To a murderer, “I’m obsessed with you, Jake.” 

Jake bit down into your neck, both of his hands sliding underneath you to wrap at your shoulders, fucking his hips against you faster. His teeth sank into your skin tearing it slightly, a small sprinkle of blood escaping. 

“Fuckkkk,” he moans, tasting the brassy liquid on his tongue, “Even your blood tastes good.” 

He was fucking crazy. You knew he was. But everything about him drew you to him. Made you want him more. 

And him hearing how obsessed you were with him made him even crazier about you. 

“Such a good girl,” he cooed, “Letting me fuck you like this, looking so pretty for me this way.” He bucked his hips faster, adjusting his legs on the floor to spread yours even wider, giving him more access to hit your weak spots and to hit them just right. 

You pulled at his hair, “Jake!” you moaned out his name, the knot in your stomach threatening to snap, “I’m going…fuck…I’m going to cum.” 

“Please,” he groaned, “Cum for me baby,” he sticks his tongue out, flattening it against the bite he left on your shoulder, licking up the new blood that pooled out, “fucking cum around my cock for me, honey.” 

A few more thrusts and you came around him. Tingles spread throughout your body at the feeling of your release. Jake moans at feeling the mess you’ve made on his cock, him working his dick faster in your cunt to chase out the release he wants. The one he’s dreamed about having with you. His hand only did so much for him with his thoughts while back at his apartment. But now he was balls deep in your sweet pussy, having you right where he wanted you. 

“Gonna cum soon,” he panted, hands squeezing your shoulders, “fuck I want to cum in this cunt so bad.”

You pulled at his hair harder, the overstimulation hitting you hard, “Jae, I can’t—“

“I know, baby,” he pressed his forehead against yours, his brows furrowing and eyes shut tightly, “Going to fill this pussy to the brim, understand? This pussy is mine.” 

Jake pressed a kiss to your lips and lifted up, taking your legs and pressing them to your chest, pistoning into you faster but sloppy, “Shit,” he hissed, “Fixing to cum—fuck—I’m cumming, honey, I’m cum—“ one final thrust, and his white ropes spilled into you. He pressed his hips against you and held them there, making sure every last drop of his cum made it deep within, none to be wasted. 

“Fuck,” he cursed, slowly lifting himself back up and dropping your legs back to the floor, “Sex with you was so much better than in my head. I only dreamt how good this pussy would feel. How good it’d feel to cum in you.” 

Jake was definitely more obsessed with you than you were with him. And he honestly didn’t care how obvious it was. 

“Fuck I am in love with you.” he chuckles, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs. 

You tilted your head to the side, seeing the knife sitting there idle. Jake clocked where your eyes landed, but he wasn’t fast enough as you quickly grabbed it, being the one who now held the knife to his throat, the fire in your eyes back. 

Jake might have just came, but his dick twitched and hardened again between the walls of your fuck hole. His crazy smile is so wide and his eyes so lustful. Seeing you so ready to end him right here and now made him crazier. Made him crave you even more. 

He wouldn’t kill you now. No, no. How could he kill the love of his life? How could he slide that knife into your skin and cut you open? You were precious to him, more than what he thought before. Maybe the sex drew him in, but you weren’t getting away from him that easily. 

“Awe, babe,” he cooed, taking your wrist in his hand and slowly removing the knife from your hand, “This is how this will go now,” he tossed the knife across the room and out of reach, pinning your arms back to the floor, slowly rocking his hips, “You will keep your fucking mouth shut, got it? Close this ghost face case and if anyone asks you don’t know anything about it. Give it up. All for me, okay baby?” 

You nodded, not being able to say no to those brown eyes. It was toxic, whatever relationship you just found yourself in. You became that girl in books and movies who fell for the killer. It surprises you at how fast you were willing to drop everything for him. To keep his secret. 

He kisses you gently and fucked you on the floor until you both came again and again and again. 

What did you get yourself into?

— perm taglist: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @kangnina @jwnghyuns @in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi @eneiyri @sparklovespink @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty @ladyartemesia @psh9 @cmoundiamante @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez

[dismalflo]

can i request a heavy sleeper x any marauder (sirius?). im such a heavy sleeper lol, once my siblings had to literally wrap me in bedsheets and drag me away cause someone was at the door and i wasn't waking up and we were all sleeping in the front room LMAO

i love your writing 🩶

tysm babe! hope you enjoy <3

sirius black x reader who is a very heavy sleeper ✩ 900 words

cw: fluff

an: something short and sweet to ease back into writing after two weeks off

It’s not like you to ignore a message sent halfway through the day, and it’s got Sirius on edge. Especially when his evening call to confirm your date goes unanswered. So now, slightly worried and running through worst-case scenarios, he finds himself at your front door, hoping you answer his knocking. And if not, well, Sirius has a pretty good idea of where you keep your spare key.

His knocking at your front door goes unanswered. Not once. Not twice. Three times, loud and urgent, knuckles rapping with increasing panic.

Sirius curses under his breath and steps back from the door, dragging a hand through his hair, already halfway to frustration and fear. He knows you. You don’t ignore him. Not like this. Not when there’s a date circled on the calendar and you’ve been talking about it all week.

He jogs down the little front steps and over to the pot you keep near the railing, an ugly terracotta thing you always say you’re going to replace. Lifting it carefully, he finds what he’s looking for; the rusted little key with a fraying blue ribbon attached. His fingers close around it, but he pauses before moving forward again.

He unlocks the door.

“Doll?” His voice is soft, hesitant, cutting through the stillness of your apartment. “You home?”

Nothing. Just the low hum of the fridge and the muted creak of the floorboards under his boots.

His brow furrows. He steps inside, pushing the door closed behind him and locking it without thinking.

“Y/N?” Louder this time. Not quite yelling, but enough to carry down the hallway and into every room. There’s a tension in his shoulders now, the kind that makes him feel like pacing.

It’s short lived though, because as he rounds the corner to the living room, there you are.

Sprawled on the sofa in a soft tangle of limbs and blankets, one sock half-off and the remote still loosely clutched in your hand. Your head, tilted at an awkward angle on a throw pillow, lips parted in the deep, absolutely unconscious kind of sleep.

Sirius exhales sharply, the tension breaking with a huff of disbelief.

“Jesus, doll,” he mutters, walking over. He crouches beside the sofa, brushing a knuckle over your cheek gently. “You trying to give me a heart attack?”

You don’t stir. Not even a twitch.

He tries again, brushing hair from your face, this time a little louder. “C’mon, sweetheart. Wake up.”

Nothing.

Sirius chuckles under his breath, despite himself. “You sleep like you’re dead, babe.”

This time, you groan. A soft, confused sound, eyes fluttering as you shift and blink up at him with bleary confusion.

“Sirius?”

“Hi.” He grins, relieved and amused, eyes crinkling.

You blink at him again, and then your eyes widen.

“Oh my god.” You sit bolt upright, disoriented and still half-asleep. “Oh my god, I fell asleep–I didn’t mean to–I was just going to rest for a minute–”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Sirius leans in, hands gentle as he catches your wrists. “Slow down. You’re alright.”

You breathe out, a long, shaky exhale as you try to gather your thoughts. Sirius is still holding your wrists lightly, thumbs brushing comfortingly over your pulse points. His voice softens even more.

“Are you okay? Bad day?”

You shake your head, your face crumpling just a little.

“No,” you mumble, leaning forward until your forehead bumps gently against his shoulder. “I think I was just really tired.

Sirius lets out a soft breath, wrapping his arms around you in a firm, grounding hug. He presses a kiss to your temple, his voice rumbling next to your ear.

“Shall we just stay in then? You pick a film and I’ll order a takeaway?” He asks lightly, “Not going anywhere looking so zombie-ish.”

“Zombie-ish!” you guffaw, swatting lightly at one of his biceps.

“Prettiest, most gorgeous zombie ever.”

You laugh, a breathy sound muffled by the fabric of his shirt, your arms looping lazily around his waist.

“Think that’s the first time someone’s called me a pretty corpse,” you mumble, still nestled against him.

“Always happy to be your first,” Sirius replies, lips curving against your temple. He pulls back just enough to look at you, hands still warm on your sides.

You roll your eyes, cheeks flushed. The sharp panic that had etched itself into your spine when you woke is fading now, replaced by something sleepier, sweeter. Sirius helps you rearrange the throw blanket as you both shuffle around, before settling with tangled limbs.

“Alright,” he murmurs, easing himself onto the couch beside you, “what do you fancy? Thai? Indian? Pizza the size of my face?”

You make a sound–half-laugh, half-yawn–and settle your head against his shoulder, your legs curling beneath you as you tug the blanket higher. Sirius reaches for your phone on the coffee table with one hand while the other instinctively wraps around your shoulder, pulling you closer.

“Okay,” he hums to himself, scrolling, “how do we feel about burgers? Or there’s that curry place you like with the stupidly good garlic naan…”

No answer.

He glances down.

You’re asleep again.

Sirius exhales, quietly amused. His thumb stills against the screen, and he smiles, tucking a bit of hair behind your ear with infinite gentleness.

“You’re killing me,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper.

[aethercoreheart]

zayne | 8:08 PM

“You shouldn’t be here.”

You glance down at Zayne, who has his head in your lap. He looks at you through fluttering eyelids, insistent on staying conscious.

You roll your eyes. “And why shouldn’t I be? You take care of people when they’re sick. Someone should be taking care of you too.”

Zayne inhales deeply before muttering his reply. “But you could get sick too.”

You give him a reassuring smile. “Whatever it is you have, I’m pretty sure I’m immune to it.”

“I sure hope you are,” he quips back, his eyes closing.

“I’ll leave if you want me to leave,” you reply, pressing your lips into a tight line.

He shakes his head, his eyes still shut. His expression softens. “I’m just making sure you’re not looking after me because you feel obligated to.”

You chuckle, and run your fingers through his hair. You press your lips against his feverish forehead.

“Sick or not, who else would I spend our anniversary night with?”

Your question goes unheard as you hear Zayne start to snore softly. You huff in amusement, and reach for the television remote. You turn the volume up, returning to the documentary you were watching.

—

You felt bad about leaving Zayne sleeping on the couch by himself, but you wanted to stop by your apartment quickly to pick up your anniversary present for him. You would be gone twenty, thirty minutes at the most, and you had left a message on his phone telling him you would be right back and to call you if he needed you.

You rush to your apartment, grab his gift from the coffee table (a navy blue silk tie embroidered with snowflakes, wrapped in a gift bag), and you’re on your way back to his place without incident.

You are back in record time, and you hope he hadn’t woken up while you were gone. It had just started to snow, and you thank your lucky stars that you had made it back before it got too heavy. You make your way inside and notice that the house is eerily quiet. You had left the television on at a low volume when you had left, but you can’t hear it anymore.

“Zayne?”

No one answers you. You make your way around his house, checking every room - his bedroom, his study, the kitchen, bathrooms. You leave no corner uninspected. Panic begins to set in and your heart begins to race as you run back to the living area. He’s too sick to get anywhere, and if he did leave the house, you’re afraid that he might have passed out only God knows where.

You reach for your phone in your pocket, and you realize you’re still holding on to the gift bag. You were gripping it so tightly that your nails had torn into it. You drop it and hold your phone with both your hands. They tremble as you swipe at your screen to unlock it.

You try to call him, but immediately hear his ringtone coming from the sofa. You watch as it lights up from where he left it, your name flashing across the screen. You hang up.

The next number you call is the front desk at his department at the hospital. Yvonne picks up after two rings.

“I’m sorry, but Doctor Zayne isn’t here,” she tells you. “I’ll call you back if I do see him.”

A lump in your throat has formed and you swallow before you reply. “Thank you,” is all you can muster before ending the call.

You’re about to call Greyson when you hear the front door open. You freeze and strain your ears. Zayne’s voice, thick and raspy, calls out your name.

You sigh, feeling like a huge weight has been lifted off your chest. You shove your phone back into your pocket, and head to greet Zayne at the front door. He is dressed in a coat, a scarf, sweatpants and boots. Snowflakes frame his eyelashes, and he blinks them away. His cheeks are bright red under his scarf, his eyes watering slightly behind his glasses.

Your eyes widen at the sight of him. “Where did you go?” you demand, your voice breaking at the end of your question.

Zayne sees how upset you’ve become, and he lowers his eyes. “I’m so sorry,” he murmurs. “I… felt bad about leaving your gift in my office at the hospital. I just wanted to get you something for today.”

Your anger dissipates at his apology, and you sigh again. “Don’t be,” you say, reaching for his hand. You lead him back to the living area, to the sofa. “Are you okay?”

He nods, but tugs his hand back. You release it, and he unbuttons his coat. He takes a paper bag from one of the inner pockets and hands it to you. “I’m sorry,” he repeats as you take the bag. “I couldn’t get far, but I did get to the bakery before they closed.”

You take a peek into the bag. Inside are two pastries, slightly squashed. You bite your lower lip to stop it from trembling, and you take a deep breath before wrapping Zayne in a tight embrace. Zayne half-chuckles, half-coughs as he attempts to squeeze you back. You bury your face into his shoulder, suddenly feeling a swell of affection rise in your chest.

“I’ll make us some tea and we can eat this together,” you tell him, trying to keep your voice steady. Your arms are still wrapped around him, one hand holding the bag of pastries.

“Sounds… sounds great,” Zayne mumbles, his voice faltering. You see his eyes start to close.

You feel his body go limp in your arms, and you kneel down slowly, trying not to drop his entire body weight onto the floor. You end up partially cradling him, his legs sprawled out on the floor. Once again, he’s snoring gently, and you place the bag of pastries down beside you.

You position him so that his head is in your lap again, making sure he’s laying down comfortably. The short walk he had taken must have exhausted him.

You watch as his chest rises and falls. “Happy anniversary, you big dummy,” you whisper, your thumb softly stroking his cheek.

[moonbils]

contains: best-friend dynamic, late night setting

warnings: none for this :)

The first time she showed up past midnight, it was raining. Not in a dramatic, movie kind of way—just soft, steady rain tapping against the windows like background noise.

I was in bed with the lights off, scrolling through random videos I’d forget about in the morning, when my phone lit up.

BILLIE

you up?

It wasn’t weird. Billie had always been like that—popping in and out of my nights like a second moon. And she knew I didn’t sleep early anyway.

ME

door’s unlocked

A few minutes later, I heard it—the quiet shuffle of her boots against the floor, the click of the door, and the soft thud of her backpack hitting the ground.

“Hey,” she said, voice low but steady.

“Hey,” I said back, sitting up. “You good?”

“Yeah.” She kicked off her boots and padded over to my bed, hoodie soaked around the edges. “Just didn’t wanna be home.”

She didn’t have to explain. I made space without thinking, and she climbed in like it was muscle memory.

⸻

We’d been friends for years. Since before the stadiums and the strangers shouting her name. Before the world knew her voice. Before she knew what fame would take from her.

Back then, we shared chips and bad jokes and fought over what to watch on movie nights. These days, we still did—just with a little more silence between us sometimes.

I handed her a towel. She pulled the hoodie over her head and ran it through her wet hair, messy strands falling in front of her eyes.

“You look like a wet cat,” I said.

Billie smirked. “Thanks, I try.”

We sat there for a minute, the room dim and warm, the sound of rain filling the gaps.

“You wanna watch something?” I asked.

“Only if I get to pick.”

“You always pick,” I said, already handing her the remote.

She chose something dumb on purpose—some old cartoon we used to watch when we were too young to understand the jokes. It played softly while she leaned into me, head resting on my shoulder like it belonged there.

“This is nice,” she said, barely above a whisper.

I looked down at her. “Yeah. It is.”

⸻

An hour passed. Maybe two. I lost track somewhere between her laughing at the dumbest parts and us quoting lines like we were back in middle school.

She pulled the blanket over both of us and curled up, her feet cold against my leg.

“You always hog the blanket,” I muttered.

“You love it,” she said, eyes closed.

Maybe I did.

We didn’t talk about serious things that night. We didn’t need to. Sometimes, her showing up was enough. No reason. No drama. Just that unspoken, best-friend understanding that being near each other made everything suck a little less.

At some point, she fell asleep.

I stayed awake for a bit longer, watching the rain trace lines down the window. Her hand was half-limp against mine under the blanket, her breathing slow and even.

And I thought

If this was all we ever were, I’d be okay with that.

Just her. Just me. Just this.

[sdmnpact]

"You Deserve Better"

Wroetoshaw x Reader fluff

~~~

I watched in content as my boyfriend of four years finished recording a video with his friends. He loves making videos with his friends. Sometimes he get's busy with whatever video they're filming that week but he tries to make time for me. He walked over to me and wrapped his arms around my waist sharing his warmth on this cold winter day. They were filming a video outside so the temperature was freezing cold. "Did I take too long princess?" He asked kissing my temple. "Of course not." I said trying to hide the fact that I was shivering even with 50 layers of clothes on.

He looked at me with sadness in his eyes. "Sorry I forced you to come down here, you've could've been home under a warm blanket with tea or something instead." He said letting me go leaving me missing his warm embrace. He walked over and went to grab his backpack then came back towards me grabbing my hand leading me towards the car. He seemed upset and I didn't want to say anything until we got into the car. He opened the door for me and I got in without saying a word. He put his bag in the boot then got into the drivers seat.

He doesn't like to drive but does whenever I'm with him because he wants to spend as much alone time together as we can. "Harry, are you okay?" I asked putting a hand on his leg as he began driving. He didn't speak but kept focused on the road. I don't know what happened, we were fine a few minutes ago but now he's upset. Maybe I said something to upset him?

We finally arrived to his flat and he, of course, opened the door for me then we made our way up. He unlocked the door and we walked in, still in this strange silence. I walked in and sat on the couch immediately covering myself in a blanket trying to get warm quickly. Harry went into his room to put his stuff away but when he came back out and saw me, he let out a big sigh.

He plopped down next to me and grabbed the remote. "Harry!" I semi-shouted. He slightly flinched at the loud noise that was my voice in this silence room. "What happened?" I asked finally fed up with his behavior. "Listen y/n, it's nothing-" "NO, clearly something is wrong!" I said making sure that he knew I was serious. This is so unlike him. Usually he is the sweetest, goofiest boy I know.

He grabbed my waist and sat me in his lap. He squeezed me slightly and then looked into my eyes. "I'm so sorry..." He trailed off. "For what?"

"I'm sorry I'm not a good boyfriend. I'm always so busy, I never have time for you. We barely spend time together and when we do, I make you come to a shoot where you're just suffering. You deserve better."

My heart broke a bit with those last words.

"Are you insane?" I asked making him form a confused look. "You are the best boyfriend in the entire world! You treat me like a queen. Sure you're busy but that's understandable. I don't suffer, I am so happy seeing you so content and in your element when you're filming. I would stand in the freezing cold for hours if it meant that I could see you do what makes you happy." I said wrapping my arms around his neck bringing us closer.

"I know but it could be better. I shouldn't let these things consume my entire life."

"Yes, but we both get busy, it's just how things go." I said trying to reassure him.

"I just wanna spend all my time with you. I love you so much." He said hugging me harder.

"I love you too.. we will figure this out, I promise." I said finally giving him a soft kiss on his lips. He nodded and kissed me again. His soft warm lips immediately warming me up. We stayed cuddling for the next hour until sleep finally took over. We stayed in each other's embrace needing nothing but each other to keep warm.

[wandaslittleweirdo]

Whisper

⋆⋆౨ৎ pairing: 𝚝𝚘𝚡𝚒𝚌 𝚎𝚡!𝚣𝚘𝚘𝚎𝚢 𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚗 𝚡 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

summary: On a still, quiet night in your remote cabin, you relax on the couch with a cup of hot chocolate and your favourite childhood movie. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps crunching in the snow outside is followed by three sharp knocks on your door. You peek through the curtain to find your ex-girlfriend, Zooey Kern, standing out in the cold on your porch. You reluctantly allow her inside, but the night quickly spirals into something far darker than you could’ve ever expected.

warnings: noncon, top!zooey, dirty talk, praise kink, obsessive exes, forced intoxication, toxic relationships, pet names (bunny, baby, sweetheart, etc), manipulation, fingering, zooey takes photos of you nakey TwT, a sprinkle of after care for the little softie in me

A/N: happy new years to the sick adorable cuties who like my blog !!! sorry I didn’t upload anything for Christmas, was busy >_> — masterlist.

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this is a dark fic. 18+. wlw. men & minors dni!

⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘

You’re nestled on your couch, your feet propped up on the worn-out wooden coffee table, a knitted throw blanket draped over your legs with a steaming mug of hot chocolate and marshmallows in your hands. You’ve always loved your own company, preferred it even, the silence and the space giving you a sense of comfort and order. The film's soundtrack played, a soft, cheerful backdrop to your peaceful evening. The plot is familiar, a fantasy movie you had watched every year since you were a child—it was comfort food for the soul, the kind that didn't require much thought.

As you slowly took a sip of your drink, the sound of something outside startles you.

These weren’t the usual little crunchy noises of a wild animal in the snow or creaks on your porch made from the old floorboards. These were powdery-like sounds of someone moving through the snow, and thumps made by boots. Footsteps, clumsy but unmistakable. The steps were followed by three distinct knocks, a shuffle, and then silence. You paused the movie, your eyes narrowing slightly.

Who could be out at this hour, especially in the hushed embrace of the woods? The isolation of the towering surrounding trees didn’t usually invite unexpected visitors. You slowly tip toe over to the window and crack open the curtain, the sight of your ex girlfriend causing you to gasp and snap the curtain right back into place.

You frowned. This wasn’t the Zooey you remembered. Her blonde hair once always controlled waves now a mess of tangles, and her body swayed, clearly struggling to keep her balance.

You let out a scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. How did she find you here, in the middle of nowhere? You hadn’t spoken or seen each other in a year.

You approach the door cautiously, wondering if the woods had finally led you into insanity and hallucinations.

The peephole provides a distorted view, but you know it’s her. The woman you used to love with all your heart and more, in all her disheveled glory, waiting at your door and looking up at the stars with a gaze softer than you had ever seen it.

She stood there, silhouetted by the moon as she pushed one of her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. She chews her bottom lip while her eyes wander over your seasonly decorated porch, reaching out to fiddle with the antlers of a wooden reindeer you had sat on your porch swing.

You unlock the door, swinging it open with an emotionless stare. The crisp night air hits your face, bringing with it the faint scent of pine and something else... alcohol?

She's wearing a brown leather jacket with fur detailing, unzipped to show a white tank top hidden underneath, paired with simple dark blue jeans. Your eyes then fall to her necklace, delicate and silver with a heart pendant intertwined with another. Your stomach twists when you remember it’s the one you gave her for your two year anniversary.

Her eyes snapped to yours when she heard the creak of the door opening. She seems surprised for a moment, but her stunned expression was quickly replaced with a lopsided smile. "Hey, bunny!” She slurs, the confidence that once made her so irresistible now marred by a tipsy wobble.

You fold your arms and lean against the doorframe, blocking her entrance. "What are you doing here, Zooey?"

She tries to straighten up but fails, her hand reaching out to the porch railing to steady herself. "We haven’t talked in forever, Y/N. I wanted to see you.” She replied simply, her voice a little too loud for the quiet night.

You feel a twinge of pity, but the hatred from last year flares up again, causing you to grimace. “Okay, you’ve seen me. Bye now.”

Zooey's eyes widen, and she stumbles forward, her hand shooting out to grab the door. "Wait, I can’t go.”

You took a step back when she suddenly lunged forward, avoiding any close proximity with your hand tight on the doorknob. "Why not?"

She takes a deep breath before answering. "I don't know. I was driving to come see you, found a liquor store, stopped to buy some, and then I was driving again. Then I found a liquor store..." She trailed off, her speech slurred as her brows knitted together. Rolling your eyes, you fight the urge to slam the door in her face.

"And then what, Zooey?" you huffed, making it clear that you don’t have the patience or tolerance for her like you used too.

Her eyes refocus and she blinks rapidly. "Then my car broke down, but I realised I was close enough to walk. So here I am!” She says with a dramatic flourish, as if revealing a grand secret.

"Zooey, it's the middle of the night, you're drunk, and you expect me to just let you in after what you did?”

Her eyes widen even more, a look of shock flashing across her face as if she expected you to drop everything and help her like you used too. "B-but, baby, I just—“ She wobbles again, this time almost falling over. You can't help but catch her, the old instincts kicking in.

You groaned, propping her up by wrapping an arm around her waist and moving her arm to rest around your neck. "My god, Zooey,” you sighed, carefully leading her inside.

Zooey giggles as you guide her to the couch. “Sit down. Watch out for the rug.” She plops herself down and sprawls her legs out in front of her.

“You were never the one to give me orders, remember?" She smiled as her eyes ran around the room. The same old couch, the same knick-knacks on the shelves. But everything is in an entirely different home, away from the place she broke your trust and abandoned her loyalty.

“Just stay there, I’ll get you some water,” You called out as you walked into the kitchen and grab a bottle of water from the fridge.

By the time you return, Zooey has made herself fully comfortable, watching your movie with droopy eyes and munching on one of your half-eaten chocolate chip cookies. You hold out the bottle to her, and she takes it with a sleepy smile. "Thank you bunny," she murmurs, her eyes never leaving the screen in front of her.

You continue to ignore the nicknames, taking a seat on the single chair opposite the couch. "The guest room is ready, sleep in there." You deadpan. Zooey's smile fades, and she looks over at you in confusion.

"What?" She asked, setting the water on the coffee table without taking a sip.

"You’re sleeping in the guest room," you cross your legs as you lean back into your chair. "You're not staying in my room. I don’t trust you.”

"But I miss you," she whines, but you only shrug.

"Missing me doesn’t mean anything," you reply coldly. "Your car broke down, it’s too far out of town to call anyone at this time of night, and you aren’t sleeping in my bed. So, the guest bedroom or your car. That’s your choice, I couldn’t care less.”

“Why are you being so mean, Y/N/N?” The subtle pout on Zooey's face is the same one you used to find endearing, but now it only fuels your annoyance. You take a deep breath, trying to keep your emotions in check.

"Zooey, we broke up because you’re a cheat. You took any sort of respect I had for you, this is your fault."

But she doesn’t seem to hear your harsh tone. "That Ruby friend of yours? She lied to you, she wants you for herself. I still love you, Y/N. Only you.” She whispers, her eyes searching yours, looking for something that isn't there anymore.

Your eyes widen, the words hitting you like a punch in the gut. You had been split up for over a year, and as far as you know, she wasn’t bothered to even try and contact you. Her eyes are genuine, but the alcohol clouds their depth, making it hard to discern truth from drunken rambling.

"Love?" You repeat, the word tasting bitter on your tongue. "You have a funny way of showing it." You stand up from your chair and hurriedly walk to the kitchen, hoping she’ll recognise your need for space. But she follows anyway, her movements inept and awkward from the alcohol.

“Go to sleep, Zooey.” You clenched your fists, but she persists, wobbling after you like a lost puppy. "Come on, Y/N!” she slurs again, a hopeful look in her eyes. "Can we talk? Please, my love.."

"We're not doing this, Zooey." You say through gritted teeth as you grab a bottle of wine and a clean glass from your top cabinet, unsure if you could continue talking to her sober without someone getting hurt.

Zooey sighs dramatically and leans against the counter. "I just want to talk to you.”

You shake your head, your hand tightening around the bottle. "Talk about what? You’ve said a lot already and you’ve invaded my space. I should be kicking you out right now.” You pour yourself a generous glass, bringing the cup to your lips and taking a large gulp.

Zooey's eyes follow the movement, her gaze trained on your lips. "We can talk about anything," she said quietly, reaching out to touch your arm again. "Everything. I just want to be close to you again.”

She tried to place her hands on your waist, but you jerk away from her touch, the revulsion clear in your expression. "Don’t touch me.” You hissed. “Do you hear yourself? Do you even hear me? I’m saying no and you’re talking crazy! You don’t love me and you don’t miss me. You miss controlling me. You’re sick.”

Her eyes harden almost immediately, as if you had flipped a switch inside of her. You see the anger that starts to seep through her irises, and you felt a pit form in your stomach. She leans in closer, the smell of cheap alcohol overwhelming your senses.

"I’m going to bed," you announce, your voice a little shakier than you wanted it to be. You make a move to step around her, but she mirrors that action, blocking you with her towering frame. The kitchen suddenly feels claustrophobic, the walls closing in on you as you tense and stare into her chest, refusing to look up and meet her eyes.

"I've had enough of your shit.” Her voice is lower than before, your heart skipping the same way it used to when you heard that tone.

"You think you're tough now, but you're still that fragile, weak little girl that let me break her heart over and over again a year ago." She pushed her finger into your chest, poking at the tender spot where your heart used to flutter when she said sweet nothings. Your eyes water, and she doesn’t miss it, the corner of her mouth twitching into a wicked smile as she watches you shrink.

Your eyes flicker up to her face, your vision blurred from the tears in your eyes. "I've changed, Zooey." But your voice is weak, showing the truth behind your words. She's right. You’re still the same, but every part of you wishes you weren’t.

"Aw, see, look at that." Zooey's tone held its teasing edge, her fingers reaching out to wipe away the tear that had spilled down your cheek. You flinched at her touch, your body instinctively recoiling from the warmth of her skin . “You're still that sensitive baby you were when I left.”

Still avoiding her eyes, you clenched your jaw. "I'm not a baby, Zooey.” You mumbled.

She tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "You’re so cute.” She chuckled as you bit your quivering lip, feeling the heat of the wine in your cheeks. Your eyes sting, and you blink back the tears, determined to not let her see you vulnerable. Although it was far too late. She could already see the crack in your shell, and she knew what to say to get you to break completely.

"Just leave me alone.” You said shakily, barely audible as you sniffled and wiped your leaky nose with your sleeve. She leans in closer, her breath warm and alcohol-laden against your cheek. "You don’t really want that though, do you? Somewhere deep down, you still want me to hold you, kiss you and love you." She cooed, ever so softly, her hands slipping around your waist except this time, you don’t fight.

You feel the salty sting of the tears run down your face, and for a brief moment, you let her hold you. You couldn’t tell if her touch was welcome or not as she wrapped her arms around your head so she could pull you into her chest and shushed you. She had created a space in your head where you truly believed you needed her, even when you went an entire year healing and barely thinking of her.

But the sob that rips through your body isn’t one of longing, but of sadness for what you’ve lost. Your self-respect and the naive belief in true love, the hope that one day she’d change and you’d be the perfect couple you had dreamt about in the beginning of your relationship.

"Why are you doing this to me?" You sobbed again, your voice hoarse from holding back your emotions.

"Because you're just so easy to be mean too, honey," she replied, her voice devoid of affection, her smile cold. You recoil from her grasp as if it burns, and she laughed lightly, a sound that rings in your ears.

She's right. You do still have feelings for her, a dark and twisted part of you that you had buried deep down, hoping it would rot away. But here it is, blooming again like a poisonous flower in the middle of the night.

"Come on, baby, just one more night," she cajoled, “You know you miss me.”

She gently pries the bottle from your fingers, twisting the cap off with ease. The liquid streams into your cup, filling it to the brim with a deep, rich red. She extends the cup toward you, her eyes shining with something you couldn’t put your finger on. "Don’t forget about your drink. It’ll help you feel better.” She reassured. Her voice is soothing, almost hypnotic, reminiscent of a serpent’s hiss, coaxing its prey with sweet promises of relief.

You pull back slightly as the alcohol fumes rise to tickle your nostrils, but the tremble in your hands gives you away. She chuckles softly, putting the cup back down and bringing the bottle up to your lips. “Open.” You obey and part your lips without thinking, feeling it warm your insides as she starts to guide you to the couch.

She sits you down and takes a seat on your lap, her legs straddling yours as she lightly pushes you to lean against the back of the couch. The weight of her body presses down on you, and you feel the strength in her thighs, the dominance in her touch as she strokes your hair just like she used to. "You know,” she started, “I never stopped thinking about you."

Her words made you want to cry more, and you take another gulp of wine, hoping the alcohol would wash away the pain and the doubt. You want to push her off of you, scream at her that she has no right to be here, but the warmth of her body is a comfort you haven’t felt in so long.

As you drink, her hand moves to rub your back, the motion gentle and slow. You hate how good it feels, how your muscles loosen under her caress. It’s been a year, but it’s as if no time has passed at all.

"Why are you.. here?" you mumble, your words slightly gargled and muffled from the drink she’s feeding you. Zooey tipped the bottle towards your mouth again, ready to ignore your question until you pulled back. She sighed, taking the bottle away from your pink stained lips.

"Because, my love, I know you. I know that under that cold exterior, you’re still the same girl who cried in my arms every time we fought." She pecks your lips. "And I know that no matter how much you say you hate me, there’s that little place in your heart where you still love me, even when I hurt you. I can’t get enough of it.”

You can't argue with the truth, so you don’t. Instead, you lean into her, letting the warmth of the wine and the familiarity of her presence seep into your bones.

Her hand moves from your back to cup your jaw, tilting it back to allow the wine to flow, her thumb brushing over your chin to catch a stray droplet. The gesture is so intimate, so loving, but her intentions are far from that.

A warm, electric buzz coursed through your body, each nerve ending alive with an intoxicating tingle. Your hands, heavy and unsteady, rested against the center of her chest, as if trying to push her away, though any real effort was utterly futile. The rich, velvety wine pumped through your veins, leaving you feeling achingly vulnerable and helpless, your strength sapped from the alcohol.

Zooey’s hand drops down to yours, squeezing a few times to ensure you don’t miss a word as she talks. She tells you about her travels, the adventures she’s had, the places she’s seen, and the moments she missed you and wished she could’ve shared with you.

Then you remember. The pain, the humiliation, the countless nights spent crying over her, and all the effort you made to live happily on your own. “Stop.”You mumble, moving your head to the side and attempting to scoot back further into the couch. But she doesn’t move, her grip on your hand tightening.

"Just one more, please. For me, darling." She murmurs softly as she nudges the cool glass bottle to your lips. Despite the warning bells ringing in your mind, urging you to resist, you find yourself surrendering to her charm, tilting your head back to take a long swig.

“There we go, you did so well. How do you feel now?” She asked before placing the empty bottle onto the coffee table behind her. You cough as the alcohol starts to blur the edges of your reality, feeling Zooey's hands move to your shoulders, her thumbs working into the tight muscles that have held years worth of tension. Your eyes flutter, your mouth parting slightly as a soft moan left your lips.

"I'm okay... you should go to sleep, you’re drunk." You waved her away, your gaze glazed over and confused as if suddenly lost in a distant fog. You made an attempt to stand up, but halfway to your feet, your knees buckled beneath you. You stumbled back, sinking into the soft cushions once more, the world around you swirling slightly.

"Oh, Y/N/N, look how sleepy you are. You need someone to take care of you."

One of her hands leaves your shoulder and moves to rest on your hip. You know you should stop her, that this isn’t the way to heal, but the words seem to jumble together as you try to speak.

Her other hand finds its way under the hem of your shirt, her nails gently scratching the skin of your tummy. "No..” you mumbled, but it's lost in the sound of her breathing, ragged and hot against your neck. You tried desperately to find her hands to push them away, but your vision and common knowledge is muddled from the alcohol.

"I don’t- stop," you try again, but it's weak, a feeble protest that she ignores. Her hand slides up, her thumb brushing against the bottom of your breast, and you suck in a breath, the chill of the air biting at your exposed skin. You buck your hips in an attempt to wriggle away, but the friction you received from her knee slotting between your thighs made you gasp.

"Zooey?…” You try to push her away again, but your muscles feel like they’ve turned to jelly. She chuckles, low and dark, her teeth grazing the soft skin of your neck.

"Shh," she soothed, her lips trailing further down as she spoke. "You're hurting. I'm taking care of you."

Zooey's hand moves upward to squeeze your breast, and you whimper loudly. It's a sound you hate, a sound of need and desire that you never thought you'd make again, not for her. But your body remembers the way she touched you, the way she could make you feel alive even when you were practically dead inside.

Her fingers play with the sensitive peak, and your breath hitches. You're not sure if you want her to stop or to keep going, but your body is betraying you, your breath quickening and your heart racing.

Zooey notices the subtle change in your breathing and smirks, taking it as a sign to continue. She inches closer, her breath warm against your skin, and captures your lips in a kiss that feels both achingly familiar and foreign. Your lips part on instinct, and she deepens the kiss, her tongue slipping inside to reunite with yours.

She moans into your mouth, her hand underneath your shirt roughly groping and squeezing you. You move your head to the side and out of her reach, trying to form coherent words through the haze of alcohol.

"You’re so soft," she whispers, her voice a sultry murmur that warms the air between you. As she pulls her hand out from beneath your shirt, she grips your shoulders and gently maneuvers you, coaxing you to lay flat on your back.

In an effortless movement, she shifts so that her hips press against yours, her hands moving to unbutton your shirt with surprising deftness. The cold air hits your skin, sending a shiver through your body that she mistakes for excitement.

Her cold hand slides down your stomach, and you arch your back, a breathy moan escaping your throat as she pushes her hand into your pants and reaches your core, cupping you with her cold hand.

You’re laid out on the couch now, your legs kicking as she rubs you. Your panties are damp, clinging to you shamefully. The wine is doing its job, the buzz making it harder to resist her as she starts to pull down your pants with her free hand.

Hearing you moan her name again after so long made her growl, nipping at your bottom lip as she traced your slit through your thin panties. You can feel your body respond despite the horror of the situation, your pussy pulsing under her touch. "I can feel you," she husked. "You’re all wet and throbbing for me.”

"Zooey!" You whined loudly, struggling to tighten your muscles and tug your pants back up.

"Please, wait," you begged. Your heart hammers in your chest as you try to sit up, but she's too fast. Her hand whips up to your shoulder, her fingers digging into you as she shoved you back down.

"Don't you remember, baby? You used to beg for it. Every night. Zooey, I need you. Zooey, please touch me, right here…”

Your cheeks burn with a mix of humiliation and arousal as she recounts moments you'd buried under the weight of anger and resentment. Her fingers prod at your covered cunt, and you bit down hard on your lower lip to stifle a whimper.

She watched your chest rise and fall quickly as you panted, your cheeks and neck flushed and tear stained. "Tell me you need me."

You remember the passion, the heat, the desperation. But you also remember the betrayal, the pain, the coldness that settled in your chest like a rock when you heard she had been with someone else. "Stop it," you whisper, weakly trying to pull her hand away.

Her hand moves from your shoulder to your face, her thumb wiping away the tears that are now streaming down your cheeks. "Aw, but I don’t want to stop. I just want to make you feel good,"

You stare at her, your eyes glassy and distraught from the wine. Your body shakes with the effort to push her away, but she’s too far gone now. “Say it. Say you need me.” She pulls your panties to the side and her thumb circles your bare clit, and you bite your lip to keep yourself from moaning. "Please, Zooey.." you begged.

But she just smirks, her eyes sparkling as she slowly pushes two fingers inside of you. Her lips part and she sucks in a shaky breath hearing you gasp, your body twitching from the sudden intrusion. She moves them roughly, her thumb circling your sensitive bud as she invades you with a brutality that feels almost animalistic. You whimper, the pain mixing with a corrupt pleasure that makes you want to hate her even more.

“You’re so cute.” She kisses you again, her tongue finding its way back into your mouth, tasting of bitter wine. Her fingers work inside you, each stroke bringing a tear to your eye, a whimper to your throat. You want to stop it, want to push her away and tell her to leave, but your body won’t listen, your hips moving with her hand and your toes curling.

Her thumb presses down harder on your clit, and you can’t hold back the tiny moan that escapes your lips. The sound seems to fuel her, her hand moving faster, her fingers pumping into you skilfully.

"There it is," she breathes, "Just like that. Keep making those pretty noises for me,”

Her thumb works your clit in a brutal rhythm, her fingers plunging into your wetness as if she's trying to claim you again, to prove that she still owns you. You're close to the edge, so close, and you can feel it. You can feel it in the way your walls tighten around her fingers, the way your breaths are coming in short, desperate gasps.

You bite down on the inside of your cheek, focusing on the pain, grounding yourself in it. You push another moan that's fighting to get out back down into the pit of your stomach, where it belongs. You don’t want her to hear it, to feed on it like a vampire craving for blood.

Her eyes narrow slightly, sensing your resistance, and speeds up her movements. You can feel your orgasm approaching, but you refuse to let it happen. You dig your nails into the couch cushions and squeeze your eyes shut. You bite down even harder on your cheek, the taste of coppery blood flooding your mouth. The pain helps, it’s something you can focus on, something to hold onto as she tries to pull you back into the abyss.

Her breathing is harsh in your ear, the hand that’s not inside of you snaking it’s way up to your neck, holding you in place. You can feel her hips moving, grinding urgently against your thigh.

"You can’t hold out on me for much longer, baby,” You try to push her away again, but she's too strong, her grip on your neck tightening. You feel your body start to give in, the beginnings of a climax threatening to overwhelm you.

"No no no," you say under your breath, trying to squeeze your thighs shut. She smiles, her hips rocking against you in time with her hand, her eyes looking for yours, watching the battle between your need for release and your need to resist her.

Your body arches upwards, a silent scream trapped in your throat as the orgasm rips through you, shuddering and raw. She grins, her eyes glowing with a twisted triumph as she feels you squirt around her fingers.

The room spins as she pulls away, leaving you gasping for breath. "There you go, sweetheart. Wasn’t that nice?” she readjusted her jacket as she stood up and reached for her phone on the table.

"What are you doing?" you rasp out.

"Just going too.. capture the moment,” she says with a wink. She opens the camera app, and before you can react, she points the back camera at your tear-stained face and your exposed, trembling body.

"Look who I found,"

Your heart sinks as you realize what she's doing. "Zooey, don’t," you warn, trying to shield your face with your hands. But she's too quick for you, snapping a few pictures with a cruel smile.

"Oh, come on, don’t be shy. You look so cute!" She praised. "It's been so long since I've had you all to myself like this."

Your face is the picture-perfect example of humiliation, flushed a deep shade of red that matches the bruises she left on your neck. Tears clung to your lashes, sparkling like diamonds in the low light, tracing paths down your cheeks to your neck. Your shirt is gaping open, revealing the soft curves of your breasts and the smooth plane of your stomach, your jeans pulled down just enough to expose the skin of your upper thighs.

"Please, Zooey," you hiccup, your voice hoarse and pleading. She ignores your pleas, taking a few more shots, zooming in to ensure she didn’t miss a single detail.

You feel more exposed than ever with the cold, clinical flash bouncing off your skin. You attempt to sit up, but your legs are jelly, and your strength is waning.

"What are you going to do with those?" you ask, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

“They’re just for me, honey. A little souvenir of our reunion. You don’t mind, do you?” Zooey’s voice is sweet, but there’s a bite to it that makes you tense. She sits on the edge of the couch, flipping through the images with a sadistic smirk.

She tucks her phone away with a dramatic sigh. "Now, let's get you cleaned up, darling. It’s a New Year, I’d hate for you to stay like this.” She says, her tone switching to something strangely close to affectionate. She walks away to grab a warm, wet cloth from the bathroom and returns to your side, her movements surprisingly gentle. You flinch as she wipes away the tears and the smudged makeup, and again when she uses a different cloth to clean up your other sticky mess.

Zooey carefully dresses you in a festive Christmas sweater that you had neatly folded in your top drawer. You watch her in a daze, unable to process what's happening. She tugs it down over your head, the smell of fabric softener and her woody perfume a painful reminder of happier times.

"There, you look much better.” She says, stepping back to admire her work.

With a sigh, Zooey sits beside you, her hand finding its way to your thigh. "You know, I missed this," she whispers, gently taking your chin between her fingers and turning your head to look up at her. "Missed having you here, all the time, right next to me.”

Her hand moves higher, her thumb tracing the edge of the sweater, grazing the valley of your breasts. You stiffen and your breathing stops when her fingers brush against your throat. She chuckles when she catches your reaction, and leans in, her lips brushing against yours.

“Happy new year, bunny.”

⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘

[ddejavvu]

HI!!! Please can i request an awkward!glasses reid oneshot where he’s like pining over the reader?? maybe with a bit of tension ;))) but he like slips up and says something like ‘god ur beautiful?’ THANK UUUU

The rain pouring down in massive, silvery sheets does nothing to dull your halo, Spencer thinks. Actually, it might make it shine brighter, a haze of mist clouding your form as you traipse through the downpour.

"Seattle sucks!" You gush, raising a hand to smear away the wet strands of your hair that cling to your face, "God, why can't Arizona have another murderer running around?"

"The rain is actually a good forensic countermeasure - it washes the blood away so that he can drag the body wherever he wants and we won't be able to follow his trail." Spencer has to shout to be heard over the splattering of water upon the sidewalk, and he tries not to cry as he feels water seeping into his boots. Rossi had treated the entire team to a pair of galoshes after his precious Italian leather shoes became mottled with mud, and though they're helpful for trekking through the storm, they're also fantastic at catching rainwater.

"I hate it when serial killers are smarter than us!" You plunge your hand into the pocket of your jacket, digging out the key fob for the car. You unlock it with a beep and the taillights shine in the storm. You're more than happy to throw the door open and slip out of your jacket, taking minimal rain damage to your outfit as you slide swiftly onto the driver's seat of the van.

Spencer hears you let out a groan as the car roars to life, and so does the heater. You throw your head back against the seat, hair stringy and soaked, face dripping with rain.

One droplet slides down your nose and dips between the curve of your lips, something you can't bring yourself to care about as the heater blasts the chill from your blood. He watches you melt into the seat, and only one thought comes to mind: "You're beautiful."

His voice is a quiet murmur, and he's also speaking over the torrential downpour outside, so you don't catch what he says, thankfully. He doesn't know why his brain had miscalculated his thought and sent it down through his mouth instead of just his head, but he fumbles to snatch the opportunity you give him to save himself.

"Hm?" You turn to look at him, brows slightly raised in curiosity.

"My boots are full!" He blurts, cheeks red but not from the heat as he reaches for one of his rain-soaked shoes, "I- I- There's rainwater in my- my boots, and I need to-" He tugs the rubber off of his foot and turns it upside-down outside of the car so that it splashes off of the pavement, and he jams it back over his soaked sock while furiously avoiding eye contact.

Your pants were looser than Spencer's own, and you'd been able to tuck them over the mouth of your boots. Yours aren't even remotely soggy inside, so you laugh incredulously as he releases his tsunami before you drive off.

"Spence, that's insane," You watch as he stuffs the second boot back onto his foot, "You poor thing, are your socks all wet?"

"Yeah," He breathes, finally shutting the car door and trying to relax his tensely-held muscles as he comes down from his embarrassment, "Uh- yeah it's fine, though. They'll dry out."

"Use the foot heater," You flick a button on the center console, and hot air seeps from a vent beneath the glove compartment, "That better?"

"Yeah," Spencer toes off his boots, letting the warmth aid his chilled skin and damp attire, "Thanks, Y/N."

"Thank you," You nod and turn your eyes to the road as you pull out of the parking lot.

"For what?" Spencer looks briefly over at you, glasses spattered with raindrops.

"For calling me beautiful," You grin.

[htchnr]

꩜ 02 missed kisses 𑣲 B. POINDEXTER.

𖦹 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭. 𖦹 𝐛𝐮𝐲 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢!

「 ꜜsummary,, Dex helps with your upstairs neighbor problem, and in his eyes you thank him for it. author notes at the end. 」

「 ꜜcontent,, stalking ⋆ obsessive behaviour ⋆ maybe slight ooc Dex for 2 seconds ⋆ creepy upstairs neighbor ⋆ painkillers ⋆ delusional Dex thoughts ⋆ not beta'd. ꜜwc,, 1,1k. 」

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 𝐇𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐑. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!

it's a peaceful saturday evening-- Dex even managed to get his paperwork done early to make it home in time for your evening binge of your latest show.

though, his internal peace is disturbed when he glances out his living room window and into yours-- your telltale grimace on your face when you've got a headache coming on. and with how you're trying so hard to focus in your show, Dex can figure out what's causing the headache.

that, along with each subtle pained jolt of your body that seems to follow a rhythm.

your upstairs neighbor; Jackson. who really, thoroughly enjoys blasting his awful music at random hours of the day.

Dex hates that he's never home when this happens-- else he'd have solved your problem ages ago. but on the other hand, the way your brows knit together when you're trying to hope the headache away, it's just such a pretty expression on you.

he waits for you to pause your show, pausing his as well, before getting up. he grabs his keys, unlocking his front door before exiting his apartment. it's a quick walk, really-- down the hall, up one flight if stairs and down the hall again.

within a minute and a half he finds himself in front of Jackson's door, lo and behold, that god awful music playing. he grimaces as he knocks, forceful, but not too harsh. a clear, 'get your ass to the door, but it isn't an emergency'.

a few seconds after Dex knocks, the door swings open. he almost wants to grimace at the sight behind it-- an absolute pigsty of an apartment. and as Dex looks over Jackson, he finds the same thing in him.

" hey man, what do want? " Jackson huffs, annoyed at something.

Dex shifts on his feet, " i'm here to ask you nicely to stop playing your music this loud. i can hear every word of it below you. "

Jackson snorts, not reading Dex's expression very well. " sure man, whatever. " he dismisses Dex, and it's clear that nothing is going to change in his behaviour.

Jackson moves to close the front door with a laugh, but Dex's boot is pushed between the frame and the door. " what the-? "

he pushes the door open, Jackson now perfectly reads Dex's face. " i don't think you heard me right the first time. either that music turns off, or i make sure you won't be able to hear after this conversation. "

Jackson swallows uncomfortably, his eyes meeting Dex's with some hope that this some joke. but when he meets Dex's cold, hazel eyes, he understands that he's completely serious.

Jackson nods, slow at first, then frantically. " yeah, y-yeah i'll uh, i'll turn it down. i won't bother you again. i swear- "

Dex taps his boot, signalling he should get to it and turn it off. Jackson is quick to scramble for the radio to shut it off. Dex gives him an eerie half smile, nodding him goodbye as he closes Jackson's door for him.

he takes the stairs two steps at a time, eager to get back to you and the show. he pushes through his apartment door, locking it before hanging his keys.

he takes off his boots, lining them up beside the door in the rack, then makes his way to his couch. he looks out the window, into yours, to find you leaning back in relief as you rub your temples. Dex smiles, your welcome, he thinks to himself.

you take some painkillers with some water, setting the glass down and curling up beneath your fleece blanket again. you reach for your remote, turning on the show again. Dex turns his on too, leaning back against the cushion.

he hopes, but doubts, that this is the last time he'll see Jackson. but to see that sweet relief in your face, Dex would do much worse than he promised the man.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

that same night, Dex lies in bed staring out his bedroom window. you can't sleep again. he suspects the painkillers didn't do much against the headache, as he watches you twist and turn in bed.

you huff dramatically, frustrated, as you rub circles against your temples. he watches you sit up straight, throwing your legs over the edge of the bed as drop your head in your hands.

you push your hair back, sliding down to sit on the floor with your back against your bed as you look out the window.

Dex freezes as your eyes land on his bedroom window, his eyes widen. realistically, he knows you can't see him. you have poor eyesight and wear glasses-- which you aren't wearing right now-- along with the fact that Dex had put up a reflective privacy screen on his windows the moment he moved in. he could see outside crystal clear, but no one could see in.

but nevertheless, Dex feels your eyes on him. like you're subconsciously watching him. his heart pounds in his ears, his body is rigid beneath the duvet.

he can practically hear the silent 'thank you' emanating from your look. as if you somehow know it was him.

Dex's lips twitch into an awkward half smile as his body relaxes a little. " you're welcome. " he whispers, as if it were a secret or a prayer.

it doesn't take long for you to yawn again, rubbing your eyes as you sigh. he knows that look, the one that says, 'fuck this headache, i'm going to bed anyway'. you stretch, settling back under your blankets and against your pillows.

and dare Dex think, you do so with a small smile.

「 authors note,, sorry this is so short, but i've been very very busy Binging Hart of Dixie, but i also couldn't stop thinking about these two ideas for this series 🫠 idk if the interaction with the neighbor was a tad out of character, if so, sorry 😅. 」

𑣲 join the taglist ٠࣪⭑꩜.ᐟ

[overmystars]

The Until Dawn cast and Mario Kart Wii... I pondered very long and very hard about this question... and return bearing real and true answers (headcanons and rambles ⬇️)

Beth: Insane MKWii goddess. Grew up on the game and played constantly. Put lots of time into learning a handful of ultra shortcuts and sometimes pisses everybody off by using these just for fun. The group can count on one hand the amount of times she hasn't gotten 1st. Can efficiently use any controller, but prefers the Wii classic controller. Put crazy time trials on every single track that remain unbeaten to this day. Not that Josh would ever beat them even if he could. She'll always be remembered through the ghosts she left. Josh has thought about booting the game up just to drive around with her again but... hasn't

Hannah: Prefers coin runners to racing. Peach main as soon as Beth became a Daisy main (matchies) chose the prettiest vehicle and is sticking with it <3 didn't play nearly as much as her siblings but did spend many hours watching both Beth and Josh grind glitches/time trials and stars. Wii wheel user!

Josh: Really good at this game. He can get fiercely competitive too, depending on who else is playing. Otherwise he's chill. Played almost as much as Beth did- and spent hours and hours trying to get stars on every cup to unlock Dry Bowser. He refused any help from Beth and celebrated for a week when he finally did it. Prefers how Jr feels to play and breaks him out when he's feeling particularly competitive but otherwise sticks to Dry Bowser because he's not letting that effort go to waste. Changes controller based on who he's racing, to "make it easier for you". Prefers the GameCube controller

Sam: Rarely ever places below 4th. She also grew up on this game through the Washingtons and has lots of fond memories spending sleepovers with it and the siblings. She's very humble, and doesn't usually say anything when getting 1st. She grins though (Josh loves that grin). Always down for battle mode! Plays with the Wii remote + nunchuck

Chris: Winning the custody battle over Rosalina with Emily. Usually when Em is also playing he doesn't get first dibs. So he goes Waluigi and mimics him every time he has a voice line. Funny at first but now it drives everyone (except Josh who joins in) insane. More and more often Em lets him have Rosalina just to spare herself from the constant Waluigi impressions. He's either really good or really bad depending on the tracks and typical MKWii luck. Goes for super fast vehicles with like no other good stats and either flies through courses and has super easy victories or has the worst time and comes dead last. Uses the GameCube controller

Ashley: Bad luck magnet. Hit by every shell. Trips on every banana. Once she used a bullet while over a gap and it just carried her into the abyss instead of saving her. She hasn't let this go and it happened 2 years ago. Vibes with Toadette and chooses her in any game she's an option. Also prefers coin runners and is usually content to just watch the others play. Another Wii wheel user!

Emily: Losing the custody battle over Rosalina with Chris. Goes with Birdo as an alternative. Is arguably even better when playing her. She was immediately amazing the first time she played. Gets really really competitive and Beth and Josh love the challenge and the intensity that comes with Emily's gloating and high confidence. Doesn't play the game outside of when at the Washington's but knows a good few shortcuts and tricks because she spent hours looking into it when she got home to ensure victory in the future. Plays with the Wii classic controller

Matt: Likes balloon battle and always pushes for team racing. Pretty average player. His character/kart combo is so light that he often gets bumped onto the off-road and pits, but he refuses to change. That's just a little guy right there in his little car! Something Matt appreciates. Really really insane on Rainbow Road for some reason. While being a Wii wheel user! Beth and Josh don't get how that's possible and hype him up every time

Mike: (Unknowingly at first) uses the best character/kart combo. Still gets 6th or lower 74% of the time. Always really cocky for some reason. Uses the plain Wii remote without the wheel (where is your whimsy, Michael?)

Jess: She got 1st once and brings this up any time anyone makes fun of her for hitting every possible obstacle. Still usually does better than Mike and is super vocal while playing, commenting on everything that happens. Wii remote + nunchuck

[kyleoreillylover]

Hii ! I love your works it's just so amazing!! Can I request a Dominik mysterio x reader and it's just fluff please?

Snuggles ➶ 🖤

Dominik Mysterio x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and the rest of the Judgment Day have 2 things to do: Annoy the Bloodline and conduct business with them. But Dominik wants to add a third thing on the list, snuggling with you and not letting you go.

A/N: Thank you for your kind words, I'm so glad you love my works!! I hope this is all the fluff you wanted and is up to your standards lol. Hope you all enjoy! Also if you want to be added to a tag list for any future works I write, let me know in the comments!!

Warnings: Arguing (but it's just Jimmy and Solo lol), Mentions of drinking, etc.

You laughed with the rest of Judgment Day as you walked down the dimly lit hallway, Dominik's arm draped casually over your shoulder as the four of you made your way towards the Bloodline's locker room.

"How mad you think they're gonna be when they come back?" You giggled, leaning into Dominik's touch as you stepped closer to the locker room door.

"Stupidly mad." Rhea grinned, eyes flickering to the sticker on the door reading 'Bloodline Only.' She chuckled, nudging Finn, making him bring the keycard out Paul Heyman so graciously gave you all.

"That's half the fun of it. Can't wait to see Jimmy's stupid face when he sees us." Finn cackled, unlocking the door with a soft click.

"And Solo's face too, how did you get Paul to keep his mouth shut?" Damien turned to you and Rhea as you walked in the room, giving Dominik a smile when he pushed you in front of him and let you pass him first.

"Let's just say me and Rhea are very convincing." You answered as you all took in the room. The wide TV playing highlights from earlier matches, plush amenities on the tables, a dressing room area with neatly organized suitcases and gear, and comfortable chairs scattered around.

"Damn, this is fancy." Dominik whistled, bringing you to the plush couch and settling down, pulling you into his lap. "Cozy too," he added, wrapping his arms around you.

Rhea plopped down on a chair, crossing her legs as Finn and Damien looked around. "Jesus, he really is obsessed with himself." She commented, eyes on the pictures of Roman lining the walls.

You giggled at her words, nestling your head in Dominiks shoulder, your legs around his waist. "I think he has some sort of ego kink."

Dominik and Rhea laughed with you, Dominiks hands scratching gently down on your back as Finn let out a low whistle, walking over to the table and inspecting the snacks laid out.

"Look at all this! We've got to come here more often." Finn tossed a bag of chips to Damien, making him catch it with a smile. "Anyone up for some snacks while we wait?"

"Now you're speaking my language, man." Damien chuckled, catching the bag of chips and settling down on the couch next to you and Dom.

"So, how long do you reckon until they're done?" Rhea asked, leaning back in her chair, her boots propped up on a nearby table.

Finn sat down, eating his chips and shrugging. "You know Jimmy likes to gloat, and Solo is not far behind, so probably a while." Finn replied between bites. "But Paul said he wouldn't keep us waiting long."

You picked your head up from Dominik's shoulder, trying to keep a laugh from bubbling out when he tried to bring your head back turning to Finn.

"So, we've got some time to kill, huh?" You grinned, glancing around the room. You eyed the TV, the snacks, and then Dominik. "Wanna watch some Netflix while we wait for those goons?"

Dominik chuckled, his arms still securely around you. "Sounds good to me. What do you feel like watching?"

Rhea smiled mischievously at you, grabbing the TV Remote. "Wanna watch some horror then while we wait?"

Damien smirked, leaning back comfortably in his chair. "I'm game." Finn nodded, grabbing another bag of chips. "Horror it is."

You cuddled further into Dominik's arms, and he wrapped his arms tighter around you, smiling down at you.

"If you get scared, I'll protect you," he teased, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead.

You rolled your eyes playfully, kissing his cheek in return. "Think it'll be the other way around." You joked as the movie played on the TV.

And the waiting game began.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷

After 30 minutes, Jimmy, Solo, and Paul were all heading to the locker room after their brawl with LA Knight and John Cena. Jimmy was fuming after being attacked, slamming the door open since he is in front of everyone.

"What the hell is this!?" Jimmy walks in to the sight of the 5 of you having matching smirks on your face as he yelled at you.

"What's wrong?" Solo walks in the room after hearing the yelling, peering inside to see you sprawled onto the couch, Finn and Damien sitting side by side as Dominik playing with a llama with his head in your lap as you ran your fingers through his hair, your legs in Rhea's lap.

"That's no way to treat a guest, Jimmy." You pouted, smiling innocently at him. Rhea mirrored your smile, raising an eyebrow at him.

"She's right, Jimmy. Thought you'd have better hospitality." Rhea remarked with faux disappointment.

"Ya'll are in the wrong locker room! Get the hell out!" Jimmy snarled, pointing angrily at the door.

"We're actually right where we belong, mate." Finn smirked, taking a casual bite of a chip. "Isn't that right?" Damien smirked and nodded. "You're completely right, Finn."

Dominik looked up from his lama , grinning at an angry Jimmy. "And this is a really nice place, we're definitely gonna come here more often, aren't we guys?"

Jimmy's face turned bright red with rage, and he crosses the room and stepped in front of you guys.

"What are you even doing here?" He questioned with a scowl. "Solo, get them out!"

"Oh, Paul didn't tell you?" You glanced at Paul, who had entered the room behind Jimmy. He looked sheepish, avoiding eye contact.

"Oops, our bad. Must've slipped his mind," you said with mock innocence, earning a chuckle from Finn.

"Solo, there will be no need for that." Paul stopped Solo, placing a calming hand on his shoulder.

"They're here as guests. I may have forgotten to mention it, but they're perfectly welcome."

"Exactly. Paul invited us here to conduct some business under Roman's orders" Rhea explained, her voice turning serious as she looked at Jimmy. "So, unless you want to mess with your dear Tribal Chief, I suggest you calm down and show us some respect."

Jimmy's jaw dropped in disbelief. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You've got to be kidding me..."

Solo, still seething with anger, glared at all of you. "This is ridiculous."

"Why didn't you tell us!" Jimmy turned his anger onto Paul, who gaped at him for a moment before clearing his throat. It was very entertaining.

"I must've slipped my mind, my apologies," Paul stammered, clearly trying to save face. You snickered alongside the rest of your friends at the sight.

"Looks like the Judgment Day will be staying a bit longer, then," Finn chimed in, looking far too pleased with the situation.

"Which means the rest of you need to leave. Rhea and I only need to speak to Paul, so the rest of you can go." You spoke up, still running your fingers through Dominik's hair, his head perking up at the sound of your voice.

"Exactly. So, why don't you show the gentleman out?" Rhea suggested, giving Jimmy and Solo a pointed look.

Jimmy immediately protested, shaking his head and glaring at you all. "Ain't no way we leaving. Ya'll need to get your asses outta my room!"

Damien stood up at his tone, crossing his arms over his chest and sizing Jimmy up. "Listen to the ladies. Leave, or we'll make you two leave."

Jimmy backed up when Damien took a step forward, knowing Damien could easily snap him in half.

Dominik smirked at the confrontation, lifting his head from your lap. "Yeah, Jimmy, we wouldn't want you to get hurt in your own locker room, now would we?" He teased, his playful tone only making Jimmy more furious.

Jimmy was about to explode with anger, but Paul grabbed his arm, holding him back.

"Jimmy, this is under Tribal Cheifs orders, very specific orders. And you know Roman doesn’t want his business being messed with. and you wouldn’t want to mess with that and make the chief mad and have to face the consequences, would you? Paul warned him in a serious tone, fearful of what would happen if he messed up Roman's plans.

Jimmy finally relented, rolling his eyes but he knew he couldn't go against the Tribal Chief's orders.

"Fine, but this ain't over," Jimmy grumbled, glaring one last time at all of you before storming out of the room, Solo following him with a huff.

“You guys okay to be okay alone with Paul?” Damien asked you and Rhea once they left, Dominik perking up at the question.

“You sure you don’t need us for backup, hermosa?” Dominik discarded the llama and picked his head up from your lap and sat up in concern, tightening his grip on you.

You smiled at Dominik, patting his cheek affectionately. "We'll be fine, Dom, Paul isn't going to bite us," you reassured him, rubbing his back soothingly.

Rhea gave him a smile, fist-bumping him. "Besides, it's just business talk. We'll catch up with you guys in a bit."

Dominik reluctantly nodded, still looking a bit concerned but trusting your judgment. "Alright, but you owe me snuggles.” He kissed your nose, making you giggle.

“I promise, I'll make it up to you," you replied with a wink, giving him a quick peck on the lips.

Dominik melted into your kiss and stood up, stretching before looking at the others. "Let leave the ladies to their business then."

The rest of Judgment Day followed Dominik's lead and made their way out of the locker room, leaving you and Rhea alone with Paul.

“Now that everyone is gone…” Rhea picked up on your tone, finishing the sentence you had started. She leaned forward, a serious expression on her face. “Let’s get down to business.” Paul sat down in front of you two, gulping at the looks on you and Rhea’s faces, your glares making him nervous.

He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. “Of course ladies, let’s discuss our deal.”

You and Rhea exchanged a knowing glance, then turned your attention back to Paul. “But first, you need to do something for us.” Rhea began, glare never leaving her face.

Paul swallowed hard, nodding. “Whatever you ladies need, just name it.”

You leaned forward, your eyes locked onto Paul's. “We need you to acknowledge us.”

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷

You and Rhea made your way out the room, smiling to each other as you spotted the boys waiting for you in the hallway.

Dominik immediately walked up to you, wrapping his arms around you, and planting a soft kiss on your lips. "How did it go in there?"

You grinned, placing a hand on his cheek. "Perfect. We got what we needed, trust me.”

Rhea dabbed up Finn and Damian. “We’ve got Paul right where we want him, and Jimmy and Solo will be at our beck and call at your tag team match on Monday.”

Dominik squeezed you a little tighter in his embrace. "That's my girl," he said with a proud smirk.

Finn grinned at Rhea’s words, giving you both a proud smile. “Nice work, ladies. Cody and Jey won’t know what hit them.”

Damien smirked confidently, looking at one half of tag team championships around his waist. “With Paul under our thumb and The Bloodline wrapped around our fingers, we're unstoppable."

You smiled, feeling the sense of accomplishment wash over you.

“Now we can party!”

Damien's eyes lit up at your words. "Hell yeah, let's celebrate!" He hollered, clapping you on the back.

Finn hollered with him, "Bet none of you can't drink more than me!"

Dominik scoffed, his arm around your waist. "You can barely drink more than me, Finn."

Damien chuckled at their words, "Says the lightweight. You guys aren't on my level."

"Newsflash, none of you idiots can't drink as much as me." Rhea butt in with a smirk, wrapping an arm around Finn's shoulder.

The three bickered while walking out of the arena, you and Dominik sharing a look as you trailed behind them.

"They are so gonna get drunk."

You chuckled, leaning into Dominik's side as you watched your friends argue about who could handle their alcohol better. "Wanna bet on who's gonna throw up first?"

"Definitely you." You gasped playfully, swatting his chest. "That is so not true!"

Dominik gave you a knowing look. ""I've seen you after a couple of drinks, mi amor. You start giggling like crazy, and then you get all lovey-dovey. And then 9 times out of 10 you get sick."

You rolled your eyes, pouting dramatically. "That is not going to happen!"

Dominik chuckled, his arm tightening around you. "I'll believe it when I see it, cariño."

You let out a mock huff, narrowing your eyes at him. "I'm gonna prove you wrong, I promise you that."

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷

You, in fact, did not prove him wrong.

You stumbled into your hotel room later that night, giggling uncontrollably, with Dominik supporting you as you leaned on him.

"See, I told you," Dominik teased, helping you sit down on the bed. "You can't handle your liquor, mi amor."

"No, I am handling it! I'm handling it reallllyy welllll." you protested, though your words were slurred. Maybe you shouldn't have challenged Rhea as to who could take the most shots. She always wins.

Dominik had an amused smile on his lips as he watched you attempt to take off your shoes, which you managed to do after a few attempts.

"Yeah, you're a definitely handling it reallyyyy welllll." he teased, kneeling down to help you with the other shoe. You pouted, looking at him with glassy eyes.

"You're mean, babe. I thought you were on my side."

He chuckled, finishing with your shoes and then standing up. "I am on your side, cariño. I'm just messing with you."

You gave him a playful scowl, then suddenly your mood shifted, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a sloppy, affectionate kiss. "I love you, Dom," you slurred.

Dominik couldn't help but laugh at your sudden shift in mood. He wrapped his arms around you and returned the kiss, his lips slow but sweet against your own in a gentle manner, not wanting to overwhelm you in your current state. "I love you too, mi amor," he whispered against your lips before planting another sweet kiss on them.

You melted into the kiss, feeling a warmth wash over you, and the dizziness from the alcohol seemed to fade away for a moment. Dominik's tenderness always had that effect on you, making you forget anything and everything but him and his touch.

He pulled away slightly, resting his forehead against yours. "Feeling a bit better now, cariño?" Dominik asked, his voice soft and full of affection.

You nodded slowly, a content smile on your face. "Much better now," you replied, your voice still a bit slurred but your gaze clear and focused on Dominik's. "You always make me feel better, Dom."

Dominik's heart swelled with love at your words, and he gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "And I always want to make you feel that way."

You smiled, your drunken state his words mean that much more to you. "You're the best, Dom," you whispered, pulling him into another sweet kiss, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Dominik returned your kiss with the same tenderness, his heart overflowing with his love for you. But when you grabbed the back of his head to try and deepen it, he gently pulled back. "As much as I'd love to, cariño, you've had enough to drink for one night."

You pouted playfully, protesting, "But I want you, Dom." He chuckled, his eyes full of adoration.

"I want you too, mi amor, but I want you to remember it."

You sighed dramatically, falling back onto the bed with your arms outstretched." But I need you. Like really need you."

Dominik laughed at your dramatic self and crawled onto the bed next to you, propping himself up on one elbow as he looked down at you. "You'll have me, cariño, just not right now." He leaned down and planted a soft, lingering kiss on your lips. "You need some rest. We can have each other tomorrow."

You sighed contentedly after the sweet kiss, your eyes fluttering with a sense of warmth. "Fine, tomorrow," you mumbled, snuggling into Dominik's side, your hand finding his, fingers entwining and almost falling asleep on his chest.

"Baby, as much as I want to cuddle with you, you need to change first." Dominik gently reminded you, trying to stifle a chuckle at your intoxicated state.

"Don't wanna get up." You giggled, nuzzling your face into his chest. "Too comfy with you, Dom.Y ou smell so good."

Dominik couldn't help but laugh softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "I know, mi amor, but we can cuddle after you change. You'll still be comfy with me, I promise."

You didn't let him go, moving even closer to him. "Carry me, babe."

Dominik chuckled, finding your request absolutely adorable. He wrapped his arms around you, lifting you up gently and cradling you in his arms as he stood. "You're lucky you're so cute," he teased, making his way to the bathroom with you in his arms.

He helped you brush your teeth and get changed, and then carried you back to bed, wrapping you up in the cozy blankets. Dominik joined you, pulling you close, and you snuggled against his chest.

"You promised me snuggles, remember?" Dominik playfully reminded you, smiling as you nodded sleepily, your eyelids heavy as you nestled even closer to Dominik's warmth. "I didn't forget, Dom. You give the best snuggles."

You sighed contentedly, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. "I love you." Dominik smiled, holding you close. "I love you too, mi amor. Sweet dreams."

"You promise I can have you tomorrow?" You asked, your eyes half-closed, your voice soft and dreamy.

"I promise," Dominik replied, kissing your forehead as his fingers gently tracing patterns on your back as you started to drift off to sleep. "You can have all of me tomorrow, every moment, cariño. Goodnight."

You smiled sleepily, feeling completely safe and loved in Dominik's arms. "Can't wait."

Dominik watched with a smile as you drifted off to sleep, holding you close and whispering sweet nothings until his eyes grew heavy.

He pulled you even closer before he succumbed to sleep, finally relaxed and content, getting all the snuggles he wanted.

[wheels-of-despair]

Just Let Me Love You Pairing: Michael (Hoard) x You Summary: Michael has a meltdown and disappears for a few days. Contains: A big brat, a tough conversation, an emotional roller coaster, a lot of love, and consequences of a rather sinister nature. Words: 2.2k

He's coming back. You know he's coming back. He's just taking a little longer than usual this time.

You know this, because Michael's monthly tantrums are more regular than your periods.

He's coming back.

You sit in the dark, cross-legged on the couch. The only light in the room comes from the flicker of the television you're not watching. Whatever ancient syndicated sitcom is playing is doing a terrible job of keeping you company. You can't name the show or a single person in it; you're vaguely aware of a crappy laugh track that made you lower the volume a while ago, and a static-filled picture. Your eyes are on the door, because your mind is on Michael. Where the hell is he?

You hear the faint jingle of keys. The scrape of metal being inserted into metal. A click of the lock. A thunk of a knob refusing to turn. And then the process repeats, because the door was already unlocked, and he'd just locked himself out. The knob begins to turn, slowly. Is he trying to sneak in like a teenager who broke curfew? Seriously?

The door creaks open, letting a sliver of light from the outside hallway stream in across the floor. You hit the power button on the remote, turning off the television and cloaking yourself in darkness.

A scuffed boot comes into view, and a denim-covered leg, and then the rest of the body you know like the back of your own hand. You don't move. He closes the door, sending the room back into relative darkness, and leans against it with a sigh.

You reach over and turn the lamp on.

Michael's hurt. Dried blood is caked around his nose. There's a cut on his forehead. The once-white tank under his denim jacket is speckled with blood and grime. You stand and stare, too afraid to move in just yet.

He left you. He made up an excuse to get mad and said a bunch of awful things he didn't really mean, just like he always does, and left. Part of you thinks you shouldn't put up with this. That you should put your foot down and tell him that this is unacceptable. That one day, you're not going to be there when he comes crawling back.

But you will be.

You open your arms, and he rushes into them like he's been waiting for permission. You hold him as tightly as you dare, not knowing the extent of his injuries. He reeks of rubbish and sweat and booze. What the hell set him off this time? Where did he go? Who did this to him? Why did it take three days for him to come home to you? You want to grab him by the collar and demand answers.

"C'mon," you whisper instead, "let's get you cleaned up."

Michael lets you take his hand and lead him to the bathroom. You help him out of his filthy clothes, tossing them directly into the hamper. Even his denim jacket needs a wash. He steps into the shower and turns on the water, and you sit on the counter so you can patch him up when he gets out.

You lean your head back against the mirror and close your eyes, breathing in the steam and reflecting on all the times you've been through this before. Is it going to be like this forever? What's it going to take for him to realize that you're never going to stop loving him, no matter how much of a pain in the ass he is?

The water turns off, and you reach for a towel. When he pulls the curtain aside, you hand it to him without looking.

"Thanks," he mumbles when he takes it.

He rubs at his hair with it, then wraps it around his waist. He closes the toilet lid and sits. He knows the drill. You're up.

You slide off the counter and pull out the first aid kit. You stand between his dripping legs and push his wet curls back so you can see the cut on his forehead better.

"What happened?" you ask softly.

"Nothin'," he lies, not meeting your eye.

The lie sparks a fire; the kind that usually leads to your blood boiling.

"You don't have to keep doing this," you tell him tensely.

"Doing what?" he asks.

"You know what."

"Clearly, I don't."

His tone makes your fist clench around an alcohol-soaked cotton ball, which drips through your fingers and onto the floor. It's either that, or his neck. You take a deep breath, toss it, and get another.

"I've got you down to a science, y'know."

"What?" he asks, more confused than combative now. You touch the soaked cotton ball to the cut on his forehead, and he winces.

"Your Tantrum of the Month."

"What?" he asks again, scrunching his eye at the sting.

"Every month, Mike," you fume, declaring his cut clean enough and tossing the cotton ball. "Every fucking month, you pick a fight over something stupid and stomp out and disappear on me for days."

"Do n--"

"Do too," you interrupt, holding his chin to make him look at you. "And it's getting old."

"So just fucking throw me out, then," he spits, eyes blazing.

"No," you say simply, loosening your grip.

"No?" he repeats, confusion clouding his face.

"That's what you want, right?" you ask, feeling yourself soften. "For me to tell you to get lost. That I don't want you anymore. That I don't love you." You cradle the side of his face, and you can see him trying with everything he's got to not melt into your touch. Why does he have to make everything so damn hard? Loving him could be the easiest thing in the world, if only he'd stop fucking fighting it. "Well guess what, jackass? That's not gonna fucking happen."

He cowers. Shrinks away from you in a way that hurts your heart. You let your hands fall to your sides and step back, leaning against the wall to give him space. You didn't mean for it to come out so aggressively. Even though this man does aggravate you to no end.

"We can keep doing this every month, if that's what you want," you say, voice softer this time. "But can you at least let me know you're okay? You don't even have to talk to me. Just call and let the phone ring twice if you're somewhere safe."

He stares at you like you've grown another head.

"I worry about you when you're not here," you shrug.

"Why?" he breathes.

"Because I love you, dumbass."

His eyes fill with tears, as if it's the first time he's heard you say this instead of the millionth. How can you get it through his thick skull?

"I love you," you repeat, stepping forward and carefully cupping his face with both hands. "And you can keep picking fights and throwing your dumb little tantrums and running off and hoping I don't let you back in, but I will. I'll always be here. I'm not gonna hit you or tell you to fuck off and die or whatever it is you're trying to make me do. I'm gonna be right here, every fucking time, because I love you."

His tears spill over, and he grabs your hips to pull you close and bury his face in your shirt. You hold his head to your stomach and close your eyes. A tear slips down your cheek.

"When are you gonna stop fighting and just let me love you?" you whisper.

Michael sniffles and pulls back. He looks up at you, eyes wet and pleading. You lean down to kiss his forehead, then continue patching him up in silence. He's got a few scrapes and bruises, but he'll be alright. Until next time, at least.

"It doesn't smell like you," he says out of nowhere.

"What?"

"The new laundry soap," he mumbles. "Doesn't smell like you."

Memories of Michael, red-faced and screaming about you changing everything because you hate him, come flooding back.

"That's what set you off? The fucking laundry soap?"

He ducks his bandaged head, which is turning redder by the second.

You kneel in front of him, and he looks to the ceiling to avoid your gaze.

"Michael?" you ask, resting your arms on his knees. "I bought it because it was on sale. It had nothing to do with you. I'll go back to the normal kind as soon as I use this up. Okay?"

His eyes slowly meet yours, a sheepish look on his face. He nods once.

"See how easy that was?" you smile, trying not to laugh at how ridiculous he is. "Talk to me. Tell me things."

"Stupid," he mumbles, looking away.

"No, it's not," you assure him, even though you do think a grown man losing his shit over laundry soap is a little stupid. "If something bothers you, tell me. I can't fix it if I don't know what's wrong." He sighs. "And I can't read your twisted little mind," you tease, reaching up to tousle his damp hair. He grins. "Hungry?" He nods, because he's always hungry. "Get dressed, I'll make you a sandwich."

You stand up and take a step toward the door, but he jumps up and grabs you from behind before your hand touches the knob. You lean back into his hug, bringing your hands up to rest on the arms he's wrapped around your shoulders. I missed you, too.

"I love you," he mumbles against the back of your neck.

"I love you too," you smile, "you big baby." He nuzzles his face into your shoulder, breathes in deeply, and releases you reluctantly. You turn around and embrace him in a proper hug before you leave for the kitchen. You're so happy to have him home. Maybe he'll cut back on the tantrums now that you've had it out? You're willing to settle for every other month and a one-day disappearance instead of three.

Michael arrives at the kitchen table in clean pajamas, and wolfs down the sandwich you make for him in record time.

"Bed?" he asks with a full mouth, before his plate even finishes clattering in the sink.

As soon as you lie down, he's on you. He nuzzles his face into your neck while he squeezes you around the middle. You hold him tight, knowing that he missed this just as much as you did. Things are just better when you're together. You sigh happily; your boy is home, in your arms where he belongs, and he's safe. You couldn't ask for more.

And then he starts leaving a trail of sloppy kisses down your neck, while his fingers tease your nipple to a peak through your shirt. You missed him that way too... but he doesn't get off that easy.

"No."

"Hm?" he hums between kisses.

"No. You're grounded."

"What?" he asks, pulling back to look at you in the dim light filtering through the bedroom curtains.

"You're grounded," you repeat. "You left for three days. Therefore, you're cut off for three days. No getting off until," you think for a minute, "Thursday."

"Thursday?" he whines. "That's not fair."

"Act like a brat, get treated like one."

You don't know if this threat will actually make a difference in his behavior, or if you'll actually follow through, but his reaction is interesting nonetheless.

"Three days is forever," he moans.

"How do you think I felt, worrying about you for three days? You didn't tell me where you were, you didn't call, you could've been lying dead in an alley for all I knew."

"M'sorry," he mumbles.

You let his apology hang in the air for a moment, hoping he's feeling guilty for making you worry.

"Can I get off on my own?" he asks.

You fight to keep a straight face. Of course he wasn't reflecting on his actions; he was looking for a loophole!

"No."

The bed shakes, like he's kicked his feet in protest. You bite your lip to keep from laughing at him.

"Please?" he whines pitifully.

"Three days," you repeat, trying to sound serious.

He whines again, with more syllables this time. He's so adorable, you could burst.

"You'll live," you assure him with a kiss to the forehead. "I love you."

"Doesn't feel like it," he grumbles, trying to pull away.

"Hey," you say quickly, wrapping him in a forceful hug and holding him to you so he can't escape. "Do you actually feel that way, or are you just pouting?"

You give him a second, almost holding your breath while you wait for an answer. Does he really not know that he's your whole world? What are you doing wrong?

"Pouting," he eventually mumbles.

"Good," you smile, loosening your grip. "Because I love you more than anything."

"Promise?" he murmurs into your chest.

"Promise," you confirm, kissing the top of his head.

He sighs and relaxes against you, accepting his fate of going to bed horny. For three whole nights. Your poor baby.

[bounder-returns]

The Babysitter

The location was fairly remote, so much so that my satnav gave up at least four miles away.

But I eventually arrived at the large house near the lake. The structure stood out against the gloomy skies, where the dark clouds were hanging heavily and the odd noise of the birds echoed across the water as they settled for the evening. The light was on in the kitchen area and I steadied my nerves after turning the car engine off.

I had realised my political ambitions and gained a small measure of notoriety over the last few months. Like so many in my profession, I was forever having to stay free of controversy and keeping my personal life out of the news….but of course, that never really worked. I had met and befriended a journalist at one of the party conferences. She was smart, sharp and my opposite on the political spectrum….which obviously meant I wanted her in the worst way.

Needless to say, the cliches became a reality and we were in the middle of an affair. Our carefully presented facades gave way to primal lust and all the associated kinks with it. To keep things as discreet as possible, I enlisted the help of a mediating partner. Someone who would provide quiet locations for our trysts and assist in our transportation away from prying eyes.

Madam Harker was standing by the door. She was an older lady whose own career was not without its grey areas. She was a professional Domina to royalty and celebrity alike. In truth, anyone with the means to afford her would be a beneficiary. In her later years, she was more of a facilitator, her active days of domination were mostly passed, but she always maintained an interest…..

Her expression was indifferent as she walked into the house with me following like a pup. She was still in magnificent shape for a lady in her late sixties and the smell of her leather skirt and jacket was filling my nostrils. Her high heeled boots thudded on the floor and then softened on the carpet of the living room. She sat on the leather couch but I was permitted to stand only. Her regal countenance was cruel, the eyes flashed with menace as she propped her red talons against her chin.

“You’re late, Minister. This isn’t a holiday inn when you can arrive at your convenience. This house has rules and once again you’ve decided to ignore them.”

I stammered an apology as I took my wallet out from my coat. Madam Harker had my credit card out from within the wallet and clicked her fingers. The final payment was due and I stood like a naughty boy in front of the Headmistress. From nowhere a hooded figure in a tight latex suit rushed in and took the card from the lady’s hand. I had already given my PIN number to her and the lowly gimp was taking payment. If not for the seriousness of the situation, I would normally find this ridiculous…..although Madam Harker would certainly remind me of my place.

Once the payment had been processed, the shiny homunculus scurried back and handed me the card. I noticed with some disgust, the scarring and lesions across the knuckles and fingers. Madam Harker saw my reaction and chuckled.

“Even now, Minister. After all your filthy secrets have been revealed, you still look down on my household staff. They have saved your worthless, loathsome hide on more than one occasion. I would place their morals and integrity on a pedestal to the moon, rather than trust one syllable uttered from your lips. But you didn’t come here to discuss my slaves did you? Let’s see what your money is paying for.”

She rose from the couch and went through the house out into the rear extension. A large, heavy wooden door with several locks was the imposing sight facing me. My stomach was in knots. The air in the building was becoming hotter and I swayed slightly as I leaned against the wall. There was no sound from the other side of the door, except the occasional rattling of metal.

Madam Harker sneered at my apparent weakness and she retrieved the set of heavy keys to begin the unlocking of the door. Eventually, the last lock was dealt with and she pushed open the door. The interior of the chamber was like a barn….the wooden structure was interspersed with various metal racks, poles and bondage restraints. The floor underneath was stone and there in pride of place at the centre of this room was the purpose of my visit.

The journalist who got too close.

She was hanging limply in the web of steel chains. Her body completely clad in the liquid black of latex, painful ballet boots forcing her feet downwards and the corset cinched in like a vice. But the terror of her appearance was the mask.

The gleaming gas mask was strapped to her face and head. The wheezing sound was making me feel nauseous as she twitched in her bondage. I knew she was gagged under this grotesque hood….Madam Harker made sure I saw a preview before I arrived. My mind wouldn’t stop flashing back to my first meeting with her…..she was a soft and pretty blonde. Her pale blue eyes were inquisitive and mischievous, her lips were full and her laughter was like sunshine.

But now she was a living latex drone. I approached slowly, my fetish for bondage and latex fully catered for. The feeling of disgust, shame and lust all swirled around as I touched the mask. I heard a muzzled groan, the eyeholes of the mask were fogged up and for that I was grateful. Madam Harker wandered up next to me. Her expression was one of pride….she was clearly delighted to have such a fine young piece of merchandise in her house. Through the pitiful groans and mewls of the prisoner, I heard something else….a rhythmic buzz and throb. Madam Harker seemed to read my thoughts and placed her hand near the crotch of the suit.

“I find it best to keep my new slaves distracted at the outset. This little thing was most fiery when we first took her in. The vibe and plug are doing their work….keeping her compliant and on the edge. Of course, I noticed her force of will when i was enlisted to help you keep this all a secret. Such a pretty girl too……..you didn’t really think this was going to end well for both of you, did it?”

I shook my head. Not knowing what to say as Madam Harker continued….

“So to save your life and career, you sacrificed hers. I’m not a saint, Minister. I have punished many over the years, but they all wanted it and most paid for it. This poor girl was a toy for you…..now she’s an inconvenience. One day you will pay for all of this, you spineless cunt. I might well be dead and buried by the time it happens…..but you will pay. That said, you don’t need to concern yourself regarding her of course. I’ll take it from here.”

“Now, you will leave my house……but don’t lose contact, Minister. This lifestyle is still very costly. Your payments are up to date for the moment. But things can change very quickly.”

[the-kr8tor]

imaginn havifn a pretty pink princess room and you come home finding hobie sleepinf on your bed cuddling with like a cute little pink plush 😭😭

-💽

Thank you for the adorable request! 🫶

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, established relationship, FLUFF.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Your keys clink as you unlock your front door, you feel your bones ache and your muscles shake from the incredibly tiring day. Entering your home, you finally feel relaxed once the homely scent enters your senses. Toeing off your shoes, you spot a familiar pair of heavy boots right next to your indoor slippers. Tilting your head, you follow Hobie's trail of discarded spider suit.

His socks lay next to his gloves, looking sad on the floor. Leather vest left hanging on the back of your settee, it's the only thing from his suit that looks remotely placed with care. You continue to follow the trail, his necklace and shirt are tangled with each other, you're guessing he had a bit of a fight taking those things off at the same time.

You stop by your bedroom door, his jeans sit by the doorway like some sentient pair of pants waiting for his owner. Creeping inside, you gently open the door to surprise him. The sight has you melting on the spot.

Hobie sleeps soundly on your frilly pink bed, heavy pastel colored blanket covering his entire body up to his nose. His eyelashes kissing his cheeks as he snores softly. Your four foot tall plushie is having the time of its life as Hobie embraces it, his sleeping face squished right on the teddy's fluffy head.

You wish you had a camera on hand to preserve the image. Instead of trying to dig for your old polaroid, you take off your layers as quietly as you can before going under the covers with Hobie and your apparent replacement. Reaching over the soft thing, you could only grasp Hobie's shoulder, thumb caressing softly at his bare skin.

He snorts in his sleep and you silence yourself from almost giggling. With one more snore, he awakens, feeling soft touches on his arm, he lifts his head up to look at you over the big fluffy mountain.

“Hi” you quietly say.

He blinks slowly, with one eye open a smile spreads across his tired face. Wordlessly, Hobie flings the bear away, it thumps softly on your carpeted floor.

“Hey, that's my djungelskog–!” Hobie quiets you down by wrapping you in his arms, your face smooshed right on his chest, his face snuggling the top of your head.

That's one way to shut you up.

He gives you featherlight kisses over the crown of your head, murmuring low. “You both smell the same, but you're a hundred times better than that mass produced bear.”

You hug him back, lifting your leg up to secure him in. Craning your neck up, you face Hobie with a giddy smile.

“Go back to sleep because you're gonna have to pick up your mess after.” he hums in reply.

He slowly kisses down from your forehead to between your eyes then down the tip of your nose until he reaches your lips. Hobie snogs you until you forgot what you were blabbering about. Tapping your back rhythmically, he falls back to sleep after a few minutes of listening to your breathing.

Guess if you can't fight him, join him right? You snooze right after, snuggling closer to him.

[ink-n-shadow]

(May your day be beautiful and good <3)

HELLO HEAR ME PLEASE!!🗯

JUST GHOST (or Konig cof cof) WHO DISCOVERS THE READER HAS MOVED ON WITHOUT THEM AFTER THEY HAVE BEEN GOING ON A MISSION FOR MONTHS !!

BUT! actually the reader was just tricked into being told their lover had KIA👀

maybe Ghost/Konig will look for reader? Or do they go on without them? :P

the angst? palpable. delectable. i'm obsessed. (hope your day is amazing, anon :3)

MOVING ALONG

𝜗𝜚 the one where after coming home from a mission, König doesn't know that you think he's gone

𝜗𝜚 pairing: könig x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 cw: mentions of death/dying in action, moving on, shitty ending 𝜗𝜚 note: find part two here ⤳ link

The last few months had worn on König—filled with a classified mission for KorTac which forced him to go completely off the grid. No texts, no calls, no emails, no letters, no you. It was isolating—but now he was home. And the first place he went to was your apartment.

When König strolled up to your apartment door, he used the toe of his combat boot to kick up the edge of your front door mat, finding the shiny gold key in its usual space. You had left it there for König specifically, knowing just how often he misplaced his things.

He was about to push the key into the lock when he heard an angry voice behind him.

"Hey—the fuck are you doing?"

König turned to face whoever had spoken to him, glancing down to meet the gaze of a man carrying an armload of groceries. His head tilted to the side for a moment, eyes narrowing over the edge of the balaclava he typically wore when not on mission. He must've not spoken fast enough, because the man came closer with a scowl.

"I said—what the fuck are you doing? Trying to break into my girl's apartment or somethin'?"

His girl? König couldn't help the bitter laugh that fell from his mouth as he took a step back. "Your girl? Uh—apologies, I think there must be a mistake. My girlfriend lives here, her name's—"

"Well she doesn't live here anymore, alright? My girl and I live here now, so give me the key and be on your way, 'kay?" The man held out his hand expectantly, lips pressing into a thin line.

Maybe you had moved since König had last been here. Of course, he wouldn't have known. You hadn't been able to talk for how many months? It had to be 7 or 8. So König relented, handing the gold key over to the man in front of him and holding his hands up in a surrendering gesture. "Alright—sorry again."

But as König was walking away and the man began unlocking the door, he could've sworn he heard your voice from inside.

...

You were sprawled out on the leather couch of your living room, hand holding the TV remote as you flickered through channel upon channel to find something to watch.

You were only broken out of your trance at the sound of the key inside of the lock, turning your head and meeting your boyfriend's eyes with a soft smile. "Hey baby—need help with the groceries or anything?"

"Nah babe, I got it." Your boyfriend mirrored your smile as he moved to the kitchen, placing the bags down on the kitchen island before strolling over to place a kiss on the crown of your head. "The weirdest fucking thing just happened."

You frowned at his words, setting the remote in your lap and scooting over on the couch to make room for your boyfriend to sit down. "Weird? What happened?"

Your boyfriend crashed down on the couch next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and tugging you into his open chest. "Some dude was outside—had the spare key from under the front door rug and everything."

Snuggling deeper into your boyfriend's embrace, your eyebrows pulled taut in the middle as you looked up at him. "What—like he was trying to break in?"

"No, he said his girlfriend lived here." Your boyfriend let out a belly laugh, shaking his head from side to side before sighing softly. "I told him to get the fuck outta here. It was weird—he was a tall fuckin' guy too."

You felt your heart sink into the pit of your stomach, nuzzling your cheek against your boyfriend's collarbone as the pieces of the story began clicking together in your brain. But that story couldn't have been possible—you'd gotten the dreaded letter in the mail months ago. It was still laying in a crumpled, tear-stained ball somewhere in the back of your desk drawer.

König was dead, killed in action, and you knew he was never coming back. KorTac told you he was never coming back. That's why you moved on, found someone new, began rebuilding your broken heart and your life from the ground up. It simply wasn't possible.

"You okay, babe? You've got that look on your face. What're you thinking about?" Your boyfriend pulled you from his chest, hands coming to rest on the swell of your cheeks as he gazed down into your eyes. His face read of concern, but you knew he couldn't tell exactly what was happening inside of your brain.

So you swallowed it down with a soft smile, a shrug of your shoulders, and a swipe of your lips against his. Ever since that letter came in the mail and your life as you knew it had crumbled in the matter of a few words, you had become an expert at shutting your emotions off and putting on a brave face. "Just thinking about dinner. What're you hungry for?"

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