#and he immediately looked at me after!!!! i was having a really bad day that day and it made it so much better

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 4

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.

part one | part two | bonus chapter | part three

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!) a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses

(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!

“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”

You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him. 

“That one is complicated.”

You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye. 

“You don’t know.”

“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”

“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”

“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”

“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”

Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign. 

You look at it. 

And then you set your phone down. 

“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness. 

Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder. 

“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”

Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside. 

“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”

“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”

“Yes, I have.”

It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes. 

“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”

You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment. 

He looks good. Almost too good. 

“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek. 

“Something… naked?”

His grin widens and he shakes his head. 

“Me naked or you naked?”

Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“Mm… why not both?”

“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”

The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him. 

“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”

He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”

He grabs your wrist carefully. 

“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”

“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.” 

He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”

Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek. 

“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”

“So business as usual?”

He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best. 

“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”

A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.

Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body. 

You cover his hand with your own. 

“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion. 

“What? No!”

“Are you going to cheat on me?”

“Absolutely not, I—”

“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”

“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”

It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies. 

“Every time?”

“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks. 

“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”

You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense. 

“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”

“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”

You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this. 

“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”

Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy. 

“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel. 

“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”

He kisses your palm. 

“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”

“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”

Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.  

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”

He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him. 

“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you. 

“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”

Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly. 

“You want to know what I’d do to you?”

“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds. 

“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”

As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no. 

“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”

You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful. 

“What are you gonna do after that?”

“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”

Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly. 

“Yes, please.” 

He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting. 

“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”

“Why careful? I don’t want that.”

He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine. 

“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”

The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it. 

“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”

It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for. 

Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—

And then his phone rings. 

You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present. 

He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing. 

“I’m sorry.”

Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.

“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster. 

If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem. 

“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”

He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest. 

“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place. 

You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand. 

“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”

He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair. 

“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”

You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him. 

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful. 

Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighs again. 

“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”

“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”

You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you. 

But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame. 

Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you. 

In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul. 

“Spencer?”

“Hm?” 

It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin. 

“I…”

Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential. 

He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands. 

“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind. 

“I forget.”

FUUUUUUCK. 

Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake. 

He knows. 

He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity. 

Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like. 

“Well, let me know if you remember.”

It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.

Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before. 

You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.

But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it? 

Maybe you have it all wrong. 

Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you. 

You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick. 

24 hours go by. 

24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up. 

Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure. 

Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)

Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off. 

You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking. 

“Hello?”

Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep. 

“Shit, did I wake you?”

“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed. 

“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”

“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”

“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone. 

“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”

A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said. 

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room. 

“Oh. Is everything okay?”

“As much as it can be.”

“Right.”

More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while. 

“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”

“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs. 

“What? Why?”

“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”

Laughter tapers off into gentler tones. 

“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks. 

“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”

Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”

“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble. 

“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”

When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no. 

“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”

“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”

You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly. 

“Guess whose bed.”

Silence. 

“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”

“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”

“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”

“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”

Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.

“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”

“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.

“No, not you. You are always the exception.”

“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”

Spencer groans. 

“You’re killing me.”

“What? What did I do!”

“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”

“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”

But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure.  After a pause, he sighs in defeat. 

“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”

“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” you frown. 

“Tell me what this is.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Lying to a profiler is usually pointless. 

“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”

Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up. 

“I don’t know. I miss you.”

He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones.  It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic. 

“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”

“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”

“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”

Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…

“I’m not taking anything out on you.”

“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”

Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand. 

“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket. 

“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”

“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter. 

“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”

“I—”

“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”

The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges. 

“What… what thoughts?”

“None that you need to concern yourself with.”

“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it. 

“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it. 

“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”

“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”

“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”

“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer. 

Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—

“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”

You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing. 

“What are you doing with a box of condoms?” 

He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you. 

“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”

“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”

“You wanted them to be for you, huh?” 

You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that. 

“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”

It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before. 

“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft. 

“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”

You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest. 

“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”

The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows. 

“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”

“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”

“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”

“Do we have to?”

The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts. 

“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”

“But you’re… you’re good, right?”

Thankfully he picks up on your meaning. 

“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”

“And I’m good. So...”

“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”

You groan in frustration. 

“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”

“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”

“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”

The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous. 

“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”

“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”

“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”

You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them. 

“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.

“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”

“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And  how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”

He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit. 

“You want me to come inside you?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice. 

—

On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making. 

“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”

“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now. 

“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”

You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—

“’M not.”

Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that. 

“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”

You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers. 

“Where are you touching?”

“Um—over my clothes.”

Cute. 

“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”

It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”

He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base. 

“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”

Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut. 

“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock. 

“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”

“I am ready��” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”

“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.” 

He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk. 

“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”

The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump. 

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”

“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”

“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”

He gets the general sentiment. 

“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“Mhm!”

“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”

“Yes,” you cry. 

“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”

“Spencer!” 

He knows. 

“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”

The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist. 

“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”

“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”

“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”

He’s barely kidding. 

“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease. 

“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”

You laugh. He blushes even more. 

“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”

“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”

“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”

The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone. 

“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”

“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide. 

Or if it was something else. It could also be something else. 

For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you. 

—

A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here. 

You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?

“Spencer?” you murmur. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength. 

“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?” 

Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink. 

“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”

“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”

“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”

Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous. 

“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”

Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue. 

“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”

“But…?”

Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared. 

“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”

The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out. 

“You regret your first time?” 

Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does. 

“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”

Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash. 

Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins. 

What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same. 

You want to scream bloody murder. 

But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”

Maybe that’s worse. 

Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence. 

“I didn’t realize you…”

I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back. 

I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me. 

I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later. 

If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was. 

“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help. 

More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does. 

“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”

Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?

What does one even wear to a breakup date?

“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound. 

Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more. 

“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”

“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right. 

“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.

So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here. 

“Goodnight.”

[blondwhowrites]

Do you think that you could write a morally grey mattheo where he walks past your friends talking shit about you and then you find him after and bandage his knuckles up?? thank you!! 😘😘

Morally, Mattheo knew what he was doing was bad. He knew if anyone saw him he would most likely be done for. There was a little part of him that cared—but when it came to you he couldn't give a damn. "If I ever hear you talking shit about my princess ever again I will kill you and your pathetic friends too." He hissed into the poor girl's ear and he roughly shoved her away from him.

The girl, sobbing, nodded her head. Words of apologies tumbled out her mouth, as she stumbled away from him. Her face bruised and battered from the rough beating she had just gotten. "I—I'm...sorry!"

Mattheo sneered at her pathetic attempts of apologizing. "Yeah—i'm not the one you should be apologizing to..." He looked down at his bruised knuckles frowning as he watched blood dribble down from his wounds. The bitch had really put up a fight. He winced, hand coming up and wiping away the blood from his cut lip. But it was definitely worth the pain.

"annnd if I ever find out you told someone about tonight—i'll bury you in the forbidden forest, alive. "

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

"Matty what have I told you about getting into fights?" You frowned pressing the wet cloth against his wounded knuckles to clean the dried blood off of his skin. "One of these days you'll be the one losing!"

Mattheo scoffed, ignoring the stinging pain that came from you cleaning his wounds. "Wow princess I thought you would at least have some faith in me." He sighed dramatically shaking his head and tutting. The moment he had walked into your dorm room, you had immediately been all over him fussing about his beaten up appearance. Now, he sat criss cross on your bed being looked over by a worried you. "I'll be fine princess."

You frowned looking up at him, brows furrowed in obvious concern. "I don't care if you'll be fine—I don't want to see my boyfriend hurt!" You cried throwing down the wet towel beside you and grabbing the thing of Vaseline, a muggle product you had picked up for its apparent help in healing. You stuck your finger into it and picked up a good amount of the product and gently smeared it over his battered up knuckles. This man would be the death of you!

"look... I'm sorry princess I know you hate it whenever I get into fights." Mattheo grasped your chin pulling you in and pressing a soft kiss to your lips—an action that made his own cut lip sting but he gladly ignored it. He rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes taking in the sweet moment.

The affection being given completely melted away all of your worries in one fell swoop. "Thank you for apologizing." You said, leaning into his warmth with a happy sigh from your lips. "I love you."

"I love you too princess."

[faetreides]

oooh art would be lowkey freaky. i feel like he’s also a super munch. he’ll let you sit on his face for hours!!

cw: 18+ mdni, cunnilingus, ambiguous era, afab reader, slight brat!reader, teasing, like two spanks (+ one instance of ass play + very slight anal fingering)

Art devours you like no one else ever could, burying his tongue into your pussy for hours on end. If he could, he’d do it 24/7. He does it enough as it is away. As a wake up call, a way to say goodnight, in the shower, on your period, from behind while you’re cooking, in a pool chair, you get the gist. If you asked what he favorite sexual act to do with you was, there’s not a single doubt in your mind that it would be slurping up your pussy.

You’ve never sat on his face before though, too scared to break his neck after reading a story on your phone about that happening to someone else. It’d be a real mood killer to come down from you high to see your boyfriend dead to the world, literally. You didn’t talk about it again after the initial awkward discussion that ended with you dismissing it. But he just looks so hot in the early morning sun, a rare sleepy day in where you actually get to marvel at what Art looks like when he’s relaxed.

You bite your lip and shake him gently, trying not to shy away and curl up into a ball when he eventually groans and rubs his eyes open.

“Morning, baby.” He grunts in his husky morning voice.

He immediately puckers his lips for a kiss that you provide with less casual confidence than usual. His brow furrows, and he caresses the inside of your wrist with his thumb.

“What’s up? Are you hungry?” He asks you, thinking that you’re needing him to run and get you coffee or something.

You say no and play with your hands, the ache you’ve been feeling between your thighs only grows the more you look into his eyes.

“I just…. I need you.” You whisper.

Art squints his eyes, not sure what you mean. Then he recalls how he usually wakes you up in the morning, “Oh. You need me, huh?”

You nod and spread your legs, giving a view of your bare pussy. You took your underwear off earlier when the feeling got to be too much.

“Can you say it for me, angel? Tell me what you need and i’ll give it you.” He grins, teasing you. “If you woke me up, you must need whatever it is really bad.”

You roll your eyes and straddle him, sighing in bliss when he latches onto your hips. You’d put up more of a fight if you weren’t so horny, but you’ll let Art have his fun this time.

“I need you to eat me out.” You hold back the ‘obviously’ that you want to tack onto the end of your sentence.

Art’s grin widens and he makes you rock back and forth on his clothed bulge. He waist until you’re juices are wetting the fabric of his underwear before he pats your thigh, telling you to get off. You don’t budge and allow him to get into the typical position. Instead you lift your hips and shuffle up the bed until you’re hovering over his face.

“I want you to eat me out like this.”

Art’s grin falters as his eyes widen in shock for a second, you must really be pent up if you’re being this bold. He’s not complaining, he’d been waiting patiently for you to get comfortable enough to use him like a chair. You’re enough of a brat to change your mind if he acts too smug about getting what he wants even if you want it too though, so he tones it down.

“Get to it then, angel.” He smirks, his words trailing off into a satisfied sigh. “Give me a taste of this pretty pussy, don’t hold back.”

He flattens his tongue expectantly and leans his head back against the pillows.

Before you can even hesitate, Art snakes his arms under your legs and yanks your body down, making you drop your weight on him. You yelp but he doesn’t let you squirm away from his mouth. The sensation of his tongue lying still beneath you feels strange for a second, but a slap to your ass snaps you out of it enough to start moving your hips.

You shout and grab onto the headboard, getting yourself off on your boyfriend’s face. You play with one of your tits as you start to bounce on him, craving more of his tongue.

You reach down and tug on his hair, suddenly feeling too shy to make eye contact. He hasn’t looked away from you this entire time, and your cheeks warm in embarrassment at the thought of how messy you already look.

He winks at you, not moving at all and letting you take your fill. Well that’s not what you want anymore, so you tug his hair harder and beg.

“Please, baby, just tongue fuck me already. Don’t you want to? ‘m getting tired…” You whine, pouting down at him.

You stop your hips when you don’t get an answer. Art’s eyes crinkle in delight at your predicament, but he gives in to you. He always does, you just don’t like when he puts you on the spot and makes you wait like this. Secretly you kinda enjoy how he acts in bed, but you like putting up a fight way more.

Art curls his tongue around your clit and you throw your head back. He gives the throbbing bud a few customary sucks and then he jabs his tongue into your wet hole. You moan and grab onto his hair, bouncing on him in time with his tongue’s short thrusts. You roll your hips down against the slick appendage and cry out when it hits the right spot, grasping onto the headboard for dear life.

“Oh my god, feels so good! Wanted you in my pussy, need you there, sucking me dry-what the fuck, yes!” You squeal, firmly keeping his face nuzzled into your pussy and your thighs around his head.

His hands are playing with your ass while he eats you out. You’re mid bounce when you feel one of his thumbs prod at your ass hole, and the barest hint of having two of your wholes filled gets you moving faster on him. He spread your cheeks wider and kneads the flesh, jiggling them in his hands.

Art responds in kind and slides his tongue around whatever parts of your juicy pussy he can, scooping up your juices and guzzling them down as he stabs his tongue through your sopping folds.

You’d normally pull him back by his hair when you got close, not wanting to get him too dirty with your cum. But now you’re tightening your thighs over his ears and and stuffing his nose into your trimmed pubic hair, bouncing like your life depends on it.

Art spanks you again when your walls spasm around his tongue thirty seconds later. He gulps your orgasm down with love in his eyes and a heartbeat in his dick. He coos at your soft sniffles and massages your trembling thighs when you get up and collapse beside him.

“Thanks for breakfast, angel, I’d rate it 5 stars”. He laughs, half jokingly and half seriously.

“Whatever, perv.” You weakly smack him on the chest and groan, trying to keep your soul in your body. “Go get coffee… please.”

[riki-riks-chick]

how wld enha be if they had kids with yn?

Heeseung:

Heeseung probably wants his kid to have as much fun as possible while also keeping him respectful. He'd play games with your son, take him out for ice cream, basically anything a "fun" parent would do. If your son ever accidentally broke something in the house while they were playing around, Heeseung would be calm. "Hey, don't cry.. Mommy won't be mad.. Accidents happen."

Heeseung would the take the blame for it, but you'd know that your son did it anyway. In the end you both cheer your kid up with kissed and cuddles.

Jay:

Jay is the type to be a total stay at home dad. He'd get your son to and from school everyday, making him the best lunches with heartfelt notes. Your son is probably a mama's boy though, so evenings are spent consoling and distracting the child until you get home for dinner. "Come on, mommy will be home soon. When she gets back we can have dinner and then I'll play my guitar for you."

He most likely succeeds in keeping your child happy and after dinner, you're all smiling and laughing as Jay plays his guitar. The night ends with you both tucking your son in.

Jake:

Jake is the energetic dad that'll do anything for his daughter. He'd treat you both like royalty. Every weekend, you guys all walk Layla together, getting ice cream before spending time at home together.

Jake is the type to let his daughter paint his toes, laughing and giggling. "Wait! Make my pinky toe blue!"

He'd laugh and giggle endlessly with you both, giving you and your daughter a bunch of kisses and hugs to remind you how much he loves you both.

Sunghoon:

Sunghoon would be a very protective father. He'd take you and your daughter shopping, buying you guys whatever you ask for, all the while death staring anyone who steps too close to either of you. "Hoonie, baby.. We're fine. You don't have to stare down every guy that walks past me." You'd reassure, giving him a kiss to his cheek.

"Baby.. Don't mind me. I'm just making sure nothing happens to my favorite girls."

He stays alert but you and your daughter eventually manage to crack a smile from him by trying on silly hats and clothes in a store.

Sunoo:

Sunoo is an absolute sweetheart towards you, so I doubt he'd be any different towards your daughter. He'd probably make a whole day out of taking her on a date, going as far as taking her to a nail salon and getting his nails painted pink to match hers. You'd probably be jealous that they went out without you, but Sunoo makes it better by coming home with your favorite flowers, your favorite food, and a big hug and kiss.

You'd immediately realize that he's not only the best dad but the best husband/boyfriend as well. "You didn't think I'd forget the wonderful woman who made me a father, did you?"

Jungwon:

Jungwon is another energetic parent. If his son is playing sports, he's at EVERY game. Never missing a single one. Your kids is probably easily excited just like his dad, so you're used to hearing random yelling in the house when they're spending time together. "Baby look! He just scored!" Jungwon would be the most loving and supportive parent whether your child was really good or not.

"Your team won! Let's go get dinner to celebrate!" You'd love watching Jungwon parent because he's effortlessly good at it. He'd never have you in question as to why you're with him.

Riki:

Riki is basically your big baby. He loves being a dad, and having become a trainee and debuting at a younger age, he wants to make sure your son has as much fun as possible before his schooling days. You're often left to be the disciplinarian whenever something bad happens because Riki physically cannot bring himself to yell at your son. Your son loves you just as much though, even when you're upset because he broke something.

"Let's have ice cream before dinner tonight. Mommy is working late today."

Overall, Riki is a very good parent. Even when he's bending the rules a bit.

[shewrites02]

Forgive Me, if I break you | Zoro x Reader | Pt. III

Part II

Trigger warnings: Domestic assault, verbal abuse , physical abuse, graphic depictions of violence. THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT ! MINORS DNI

*THERE IS A GRAPHIC DEPECTION OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE THE SCENE BEGINNING AND END ARE MARKED WITH THREE ASTERISKS (***) *

A/n: I know it has taken me forever and a day to finish this part, but all of you have been so encouraging in spite of that. I hope that this chapter is worth the wait!

Request: Open

Word count: 8.4k

Leave a comment if you enjoy :)

You twirl in the boutique's mirror. The owner was gracious enough to close, so you and your friends can shop in private. Apparently the villagers have become quite fond of the pirates' during their stay. It is difficult to walk the streets without them being recognized or stopped. It seems the cheerfulness of Strawhats is as infectious to your people as it is to you.

"You really don't like it?" Robin asks, meeting your eyes in the mirror after looking you over.

She stands behind you, a little off to the left meeting your reflection’s gaze. Bashfully, you shake your head. You drag your hands down the pink fabric. This is the fourth dress you have tried on- all of them beautiful- but you have yet to find a dress that makes you feel pretty while sitting in all your ugly emotions.

"I think you look hot! but- I said that about the other three dresses." Nami quips.

"What don't you like, y/n?"

Robin's voice is soft, patient, her smile unwavering. You feel bad when you can't produce a truthful answer. 'It's me that's ugly, not the dresses' is not a sentiment to be spewed so recklessly. When you are unable to produce a satisfactory response, you shrug, feigning ignorance.

"Maybe the color?" You question. The pink feels unfitting- the color too loud for how you bleak you feel. The occasion feels more kin to a funeral than an elaborate celebration.

Robin nods, taking in the note. She flashes you a wide smile before dragging her hands up and down your arms in comfort. She implores your trust before grabbing Nami, the two of them head to the dress racks.

When Robin returns she waves you back into the closeted dressing room. She is insistent on forcing you to get dressed with your eyes closed, saying the reveal will be so much better blind. Nami shouts her agreements through the door. Willing to try anything at this point, you agree.

Robin's fingers are laced in yours as she guides you back to the mirror. After planting you dead center , she instructs you to open your eyes . They widen immediately at the sight.

The velvet fabric runs down to the floor, a high slit on your right leg. The corset is adorned with flashy embellishments, and the color- emerald green, seems a lot more fitting for the occasion.

It had been a long while since the sight of yourself in a mirror made your gasp in a way that didn't sting your heart. You couldn't be more thankful for the silly idea Nami and Robin suggested. The two squeal at what they hope is your pleased reaction.

"We think the swordsman will like it too." Robin teases in a hushed whisper. Zoro enters the room soon after, surely of no coincidence.

"And that's our que." Nami announces as the pair start their descent out the room.

Zoro immediately stops at the entryway once he sees your reflection in the mirror. his mouth is slightly agape, before morphing into a toothy grin. His crew-mate's voices seem to draw his attention back, forcing his feet.

"This is the fifth dress y/n has tried on today. She is still on the fence about it. " Robin instigates.

"Why don't you tell her what you think Zoro?"

And with that the two are gone. The room is quiet, and for a brief moment the two of you just stare. No anger. No sadness. Just a moment where the two of you could cherish being together, that you are finally alone. A moment where Zoro can just be the swordsman, and you- a damsel on the beach.

"Can I touch you?" Zoro asks. His voice is hushed and fragile. Already broken as if preparing in advance for your rejection. The stoic swordsman, the pirate who was more used to taking what he wanted than asking for permission, what had you done to him?

You nod solemnly. Thought the days of pleasantries and cautionary asks were long behind you and the Pirate. Hearing him revert back so quickly, so readily after your repeated rejections- It's disheartening. Zoro is wrapping his arms around your waist, before you have the opportunity to dissect the thought thoroughly. He plants a kiss on your temple, then your cheek before resting his chin on your shoulder. He meets your eyes in the mirror, grin still on his face. Your hand finds his cheeks caressing him lightly.

You had missed being able to bask in the eye of the swordsman so freely. To feel the warmth of his love for you in his stare. The pirate looks at you as if you are truly the most amazing thing he's ever seen. The same wonder and awe he has when tending meticulously to his swords.

"You like it?" You ask, allowing yourself to relax into his hold. Though you know you shouldn't, It is impossible not to indulge when there is swiftly coming a time you'll never feel his touch again.

"I like it. I think you look gorgeous... " He kisses your cheek once more.

The butterflies wake in your stomach. Violently swarming as though this is the first compliment you have ever gotten from the swordsman. They're quickly drowned in your guilt, in your knowing that this- whatever it is the two of you are doing- is only going to destroy the pirate in the end.

"Do you like it?" He asks as if sensing your apprehension. You shrug in response.

"It's fine. As long as you like it."

Zoro's brow raises to his forehead. His expressionless face shows that he is unimpressed with your attempt to dismiss your feelings in favor of his.

"What was wrong with the other dresses?" He pivots.

You swallow the lie that tries to climb its way out your throat. Tired of the rancid aftertaste it always left in your mouth after its departure. Part of you is astonished at how reflexive it was, the lie so ready to fly past your lips. The shock quickly turns to grief.

This is a part of yourself you could openly give to the swordsman. A part of you that only had his fingerprints indented into it. A part of you that Lee would never have claim too. This was a truth you could openly and honestly give him. Are you not obligated to?

"Nothing." You confess taking in a shaky breath. There's a frailness to your voice that houses all the tears wanting to swell in your eyes. "I'm too sad to feel pretty Zoro. To sit here playing dress up when our time is ticking away with each dress I put on ... How do I pick out the perfect dress to say goodbye to you?"

"We aren't saying goodbye." Zoro states the words plainly, as if you are supposed to know already.

You turn your head to face him. The eye contact made in the mirror is no longer sufficient enough for the conversation. You need to see if his collected demeanor shifts once your pain-staked eyes stare back at him. It does not. The pirate looks at you deadpanned, in search of an explanation.

"W-what do you mean?"

"I told you , I'm not leaving until you tell me what's happening."

The furrow of your brows has deepened into a full frown. You stare back at Zoro with your mouth wide searching for your next words. Can only describe this static in your brain as disbelief. What is he talking about? Stay? Here?

"Zoro. The sunny is leaving here in two days. Your crew has spent all morning preparing for their departure ... "

He nods, confirming your words are true.

"Zoro-"

"I'm not leaving."

It's as though your senses come flushing back all at once. Jolting your body to break free of the pirate's hold. Forcing his arms away as you create distance.

"You can't stay ... not for me." You want your proclamation to come out strong, demanding, but you only sound broken. Making a desperate plea.

"I'd really love to see you make me leave." He lets out a boisterous laugh. "I bet your husband would love that, uh? Me out the way."

Zoro reaches his hand out to you, he is still smiling. As though he is not saying he is going to abandon his crew mates for you. Give up his dreams for you. All to what- watch you play house with another man? A relationship filled with fleeting touches , and stolen moments. How is that fair to him?

"Zo-"

"I know you miss me." His voice has dropped in tone and volume. He drops his hand once you don't return the gesture. The smile previously seared onto his face is gone.

"I know when he touches you, you're wishing it's me. Every smile, every laugh, every touch , every kiss it's me in the back of your mind. All the affection you give to him- it's mine ... I know he can't make you feel as good as I can. "

You open your mouth to speak but no words come out. Nothing comes to mind in the midst of the overwhelming whirlwind of your emotions. You don't- can't- lie to the swordsman, tell him that none of it is true. But how can you admit the truth when you know there is no escape, no way out.

You could tell Zoro you loved him a million times, it is not going to change this absolute fact: you are not going anywhere.

"It doesn't matter. What I want doesn't matter." You mutter.

"Your feelings- they don't matter?!" The swordsman snarls in response . "Don't fucking say that."

There's a stab to your heart, his words cutting you just as deeply as if he put a sword through your chest. You could not for the life of you understand the concern Zoro had for your emotions when you are undoubtedly breaking his heart more with each passing day.

"Please Zoro- don't stay behind for me. Go."

"Why don't you trust me?" The swordsman asks. His voice so hushed it threatens not to make it to your ear.

The sword in your heart twists in a devilish way. Is this what Zoro has deduced? That your lack of openness could only be a fault of his own. That he has not loved you enough , made you feel safe enough. Yet another reminder of why you are so undeserving of him. Though he doesn't meet you , you still search his gaze . Look at the truth in his expression to see that this is truly what Zoro believed . You didn't trust him.

"It's not you I don't trust Zo...."

This time the pirate doesn't ask. He closes the gap between the two of you in two strides, taking your hands in his.

"Then why won't you tell me what's going on? Why won't you let me help you?" Zoro asks.

Your eyes closed at his inquiries. Trust. You have already given every bit of excess you had to the swordsman on the beach. You aren't sure you have anymore to spare now that you are home. Wished it was that simple. Simple enough to only have to make a decision and stick to it. To have only your heart to follow, but that is not a luxury of yours.

"You can't save me Zo..."

His face drops. The squeeze he has on your hands tightens some.

"I can. Ask me to. Please ..."

The room falls silent. It is now you who is averting eye contact from the pirate.

" ... Do you think I'm not strong enough?"

You sat beside Zoro digging your hands in and out of the sand despite the fact you hated the feeling. It was something to do while watching him meticulously care for his swords. In the time the two of you had spent on the beach, you had watched Zoro tend to his swords more times than you had seen him do almost anything else.

"Can I touch your swords?"

Your words were meant for the first mate, but they seemed to grasp the attention of the whole Strawhat crew. They tried to pretend, act as if the breakfast Sanji's was serving was far more interesting than the conversation the two of you were having. This did not stop his crewmates from taking turns borrowing their eyes into the side of his skull. If you hadn't known any better you'd even swore they were holding their breaths in anticipation of the swordsman's response.

The tension in the air gave way that you may have made a mistake. That perhaps that was not a question allowed amongst this crew. You looked toward Zoro, bracing yourself for the harsh rejection. Instead he removed the three swords he had just placed on his hip and laid them out on the sand in front of you.

There was an audible gasp that fell from his crewmates. Zoro quickly narrowed his eyes toward their direction, the pirates sitting on the wooden table Franky had conjured up around the fire. His crewmates' eyes scatter in different directions faking obliviousness. Usopp even started to whistle to further prove his distraction. Zoro rolled his eyes before facing toward his swords.

"This one is Enma, Sandai Kitetsu, and Wado Ichimonji."

Zoro goes from top to bottom, pointing out each sword as he names it. Lightly, he pushes the first two away, so they are out of your arms’ reach. Leaving only Wado Ichimonji within your grasp.

"What- those two your favorite? That why I can't touch them." You teased.

"Not that." He gave you a playful laugh in response. That familiar cocky smile on his lips. "These two will literally kill you if you touch them."

"Oh-"

"This one is my favorite." He pulled Wado close so it was parallel to the knees of your criss-crossed legs. Before Zoro picked up his sword he forced your hands palm side up, arms out, rested against your thighs. Once he was satisfied with your posture he inched close to you smushing his thigh against yours then placed the sword in your hands.

"Why is this one your favorite?"

You go to move your hand from beneath the sword to foolishly trace the edge of the blade, but Zoro grabs your wrist before you have the opportunity. Quickly instructing you to be still. Griped that he had your hands placed like that for a reason.

"I don't want you to cut yourself." He scolded. Feeling like a small child, a 'sorry' clumsily fell from your lips in response. Zoro continued to answer your question.

"... A friend gave it to me."

This time you got the sense that you weren't to inquire any further about this. You wouldn't dare push the boundaries of the pirate. Instead you shifted the conversation.

"Was I not supposed to ask about your swords? ... your crewmates seemed kind of surprised."

"It's sort of a rule on the ship, that no one can touch my swords. " The swordsman's hand found the nape of his neck rubbing nervously. You laughed at his proclamation. His crewmate of years hadn't touched his swords, yet there he was placing his favorite blade in your hands. Unsure of what you had done to earn the pirate's trust, you were grateful all the same.

"So two swords that can kill you ... you must be like really strong?" you ask.

"Yeah, you could say that..." The swordsman chuckled. There's amusement filled in his expression as he takes the sword from your grasp so he could return them to their home. "You've really never heard of the Strawhat pirates?"

You shook your head 'no'. Had no intention of explaining to the swordsman that Lee had controlled most of the entertainment you had access to, and the news was hardly something he viewed as a concern of yours.

"I do keep hearing Luffy say he is going to be the pirate king a lot!" You tried to defend, hoping the information was relevant. the green haired pirate let out another laugh, nodding in agreement.

" 'nd I'm going to be the strongest swordsman in the world one day."

There was no uncertainty in his voice. No unsureness of weather it would be. The swordsman spoke his declaration as if it were a prophecy.

"How can you be so sure?"

"... Because I made a promise."

-

You forgot what the ballroom looked like filled with smiling faces, a sight lost after the death of your father. The warmth you feel at the anticipation is quickly replaced with an ice cold chill once you remember what these balls entail. Acting. You fix your smile, make it wider. As genuine as you could fake. Run your hands along your dress to smooth the folds. Make sure you are presentable- perfect like the chief expects.

Lee extends his hand as you approach the bottom of the steps. He does not wear a smile, but his eyes don't hold the malice you've become accustomed to searching for. He wordlessly looks you over with your hand in his. When he begins to lead you to the entrance of the ballroom you assume your appearance satisfies him.

There's an announcement as the two of you enter.

"Presenting Chief Misatori , and his wife".

The villagers look upon the two of you with such... mixed reactions. Some scold, probably wondering what you could possibly see in such an evil man. Probably trying to conjure up ways you cope with all his cruel actions. Others are more welcoming, the pain and grief your husband has put them through carved into their smile lines. Despite which side they lay, all the villagers have their eyes on you. Watching. Waiting for any crack in your façade.

Once you two reach your table at the front of the room, the announcer introduces the Strawhats next. The reception they receive is blazing compared to you and your husband. The room fills with cheers and whistles. Toothy smiles from all patrons. The pirate crew seems to enjoy the attention, maybe not welcoming of it, but definitely not shying away.

It seems Luffy couldn't be bothered to change out of his cut off denim for the formal event. Throwing on a button up shirt as compensation for his otherwise casual dress. You suspect that was Nami's idea. The other Strawhats are dressed more appropriately, in spite of their captain's relaxed attire. Although all look stunning, your eyes fall on Zoro, dressed in an all black 3 piece suit.

This is the first time you've seen the pirate in anything that wasn't a kimono or plain black shirt. The sight is a Divine gift. You would be watering at the mouth had you not been so aware of your surroundings. The swordsman's eyes meet yours the closer he gets. He flashes you a small smirk darting his eye down to his chest then back to you.

His tie and pocket square are velvet, the same emerald green of your dress. He has a gold sun pinned to his left lapel, its center adorned with an emerald stone strikingly similar to the stones on your corset. Shock is not a strong enough word to describe how you feel when your eyes return to his.

The emotions in you swirl so violently you feel like you're going to puke. Elation. Dread. Guilt. The three battle for space in your chest. The smirk on his face turns into a crooked smile at your eyes going slightly wide. If you didn't know any better you might even say he lets out a laugh at your surprise. When the group finally makes it to the shared round table, Zoro does not hesitate to take a seat next to you. Doesn't shy away from meeting Lee's disgruntled glance as he takes his seat.

"You look amazing love, a true sight for sore eyes." Sanji compliments.

It deepens the scowl already on Lee's face, but Sanji does not bother to acknowledge him. He gleams at you adoringly with a wide grin. You can only smile in response, softly thanking the cook. You wouldn't dare throw more ammunition onto the fire already fuming in your husband.

"She does look beautiful, doesn't she?" Lee gloats.

He has dropped the scowl, in an attempt to morph his features into something more inviting. He draws you in to meet his lips for a kiss. Usually Lee isn't one for public displays of affection, but in the face of the Strawhat men, he seems more than happy to make an exception . The chief has always been one to flaunt his spoils of war.

Zoro pinches your thigh. Not too hard, but enough to draw a reaction from you. It forces you to jump in surprise, drawing away from your husband. The puzzled look on Lee's face begins to look more of anger the longer his eyes linger on you awaiting an explanation.

"I'm sorry honey. I thought I felt something run across my foot, it just startled me." You caress his cheek to try to ease the tension. The sound of Zoro snickering whispers behind you.

The further into the night it gets the more lively the party has gotten. Alcohol has started to flow, live music Blares while patrons fill the dance floor. Most of the Strawhats have scattered.

Luffy in search of meat, or adventure. Don't remember which one he was singing about as he drug Usopp along. Chopper followed gleefully with hopes to join the fun. The cook has made himself busy talking to the maid from before, her appearance almost night and day in the evening gown. The others are difficult to track down, each with their own agendas for the night. The only ones sitting and enjoying the music with you are Zoro and Robin.

Lee has abandoned you at the table to entertain the men of his council, leaving you with the command to stay here. The chief never allowed you within ten feet of the dignitaries. Always said you were 'sure to say something stupid'. 'Only going to embarrass him and yourself'. So worried you would not be perfect enough for them, in spite of the fact that these men have known you since childhood. But you do not complain. Would much rather sit at the table swaying to the music than smile in the faces of your husband's subordinates anyway. Plus, the addition of company has made the experience that much more enjoyable.

"You want to dance?" The swordsman whispers.

"Roronoa , I wouldn't have taken you to be a dancer." You jest in return.

"I'm not. You haven't sat still since the music started. If you want to dance, I'll dance with you."

Your cheeks flush at his testament, at the mere thought of Zoro willing to wade through his own discomfort for you. It aches that you cannot do the same. That instead of exclaiming a resounding 'yes' your eyes fall to your husband on the other side of the room.

"It's okay Zo. Thank you."

Zoro glances back to see where your eyes have fallen. Rolls them in response to seeing Lee. A sigh leaves his lips but he doesn't push any further.

"I'm sure I can buy you guys a few minutes." Robin interjects. "I bet the garden is beautiful under the full moon."

Her eyes glance over at the swordsman briefly before returning to her drink. Zoro is already standing, adjusting the way his swords sit on his waist before heading presumably to the garden. You watch his figure shrink as he wades through the people to find the exit. When you return to Robin, she too is on her feet. There is a smile on her face, free of any anxieties.

"I'll distract Lee. Go find the swordsman."

Your heart pounds against your chest with each stride Robin makes towards the chief. Is this happening? Defying your husband so blatantly in the face of the entire kingdom. Your breath quickens as you watch her greet him. Gets shallower with each word that falls from the archeologist's lips. It's completely snatched from your throat once her fingers intertwine with his, leading the man out the ballroom with a giddy smile on his face.

You sit dumbfounded looking at the empty chairs that surround your table. There genuinely is nothing but you and the decision you have to make. Disrespect your husband to gallivant under the stars, or- Be the good wife. Behave. Act. Sit and smile while Robin wastes her precious time presumably flirting with your husband who had done little to conceal his crush on her.

Your feet are moving before your brain has an opportunity to justify their movement. All that echoes in your brain is Zoro's voice proclaiming he won't leave. How he is willing to risk his dream for you, and all you have to do is have the courage to leave the table. Once you make it to the garden you don't have the restraint to keep yourself from running in search of Zoro. Looking for any clue of his whereabouts in spite of your heels sinking you into the dirt with each step.

"I'm right here princess."

Your head snaps in the direction of his voice. The swordsman sits at the fountain in the center of the garden. His arms crossed against his chest with his legs outstretched in front of him. There is a full smile on his face as he takes you in, really takes you in.

"You're so fucking pretty... I hope he tells you everyday."

You don't want to discuss the chief. Hadn't escaped his watch to allow him to infiltrate your final moments with Zoro. You rush to the swordsman intertwining your fingers with his, and pull him to his feet or- more accurately, he stands at your request. The music from the ballroom carries into the garden faintly.

"You promised me a dance."

You wrap your arms around Zoro's neck. His hands find your waist. He pulls you close until your chest are flush together. You rest your head on his chest as the two of you sway. There is a comfortable silence falling between the two of you.

"We could do this on the sunny. Brook plays that violin non stop. " Zoro whispers.

Your eyes close as you allow your mind one second to wander. To think about what life on the seas would be like with Zoro. Naps in the crow's nest. Sake on the deck. Morning kisses before breakfast. The swordsman would love you. This you are certain.

"That would've been nice Zo."

"Don't say it like that- like you're never coming back ."

The swordsman's plea has you stopping in place. You take a step back to look up at him with somber eyes.

"What do you think will happen Zoro? ... That your crewmates will leave and my circumstances are going to change? If they don't- will you stay here to watch me be in a relationship with another man?"

"You won't even tell me what your circumstances are!" Zoro rebuttals quickly. Seemingly having no intentions of playing these games of 'what if'. He takes a deep breath in an attempt to gather himself.

"I'm just hoping that you will eventually tell me the truth. Tell me what's going on so we can go back to living our lives together! Is that not what you want?"

"I don't get to make that choice Zoro!" You retort. "I don't get what I want!"

An astonished huff leaves the swordsman's mouth. His lips upturn as he snarls at your words.

"Yes you do! You could decide to let me love you! I've been begging you to let me help and you just keep-"

"Go!" You shout . Unable to withstand the sweet sentiments he spews so fervidly any longer. The shake of pain in his voice growing unbearable to hear. "Leave Zoro! How many times do I have to say you can't stay!"

"How many times do I have to say I am not leaving you?" The pirate responds without missing a beat.

You hate the decision you make next. Cringe at the words before they even leave your lips. Disappointed at how quickly the idea pops into your head.

"You're never going to be the world's strongest swordsman, Zoro. The world's strongest swordsman would never give up their dream to chase after some woman they've only known two months."

The swordsman’s face drops in a way you've never seen before. Worse than when you introduced Lee as your husband. That was betrayal, this-

This was pure agony.

"Why are you trying to hurt me?"

You swallow hard. Shoving down the pained cries that want to shout out the truth. 'To make you hate me.' If that is the only way the swordsman is willing to leave then so be it. You would shatter him again. Tap at the cracks in his already broken heart, until the pieces are on the ground for him to pick up again. If that is what it is going to take.

"I'm telling you the truth Zoro. I know you look down on Lee , but he would never be foolish enough to jeopardize his dreams just for me."

"You saying that makes him a better man than me? That he's the one you're choosing." Zoro seethed. "He doesn't fucking love you- I do!"

"I'm not choosing anyone." You screech desperately.

It has taken some time, but it has finally sunk in. You do not get to leave. To choose. To stray from the path your husband deemed appropriate. You don't get saved. There is nothing the swordsman, or any of the other Strawhat pirates could do to change that.

Zoro nods his head as though he is saying he finally understands. He drags his right hand down his face before letting out a tired sigh.

"You win. You want me gone ... We'll leave tonight."

***

Finally the last of the patrons filed out. A sigh of relief leaves your lips when the castle doors shut. Your performative smile drops at the click of the locks. Air could fill your lungs again. Now that the night has drawn to a close, you wish nothing more than to get out of this dress. Strip down bare so you could cry in the tub. Soothe your heart's ache in privacy for just a little while.

Lee grasps your hand in his to force your attention. He wears a smile. You expect it's rewarding of the good job you've done tonight. He pulls you in close to press his lips against yours.

The kiss is soft, delicate . When you go to withdraw, the chief does not allow you any reprieve. The tender kiss quickly turns forceful. He tangles his hand into your hair so you have nowhere to go.

"You must think I'm a fucking idiot, Honey." Lee mumbles against your lips. He starts pushing you backwards until you are pressed against the iron doors. His free hand wraps around your throat while his lips travel to your ear.

"You love the swordsman..." He whispers. "Do you really think I'm too stupid to notice? "

Goosebumps appear at his words. For a split second everything stops. Your Hearing. Your breath. Your heart. How- how could he know? Sweat beads at your brow as they scrunch in confusion. You try to blink your way out this nightmare as tears start to swell in your eyes. Refuse to accept this as reality.

"No Lee, I only love you. Zor-"

Lee squeezes his fingers tight around your neck. The piercing blow to your windpipe brings your testament to a swift end. You claw violently at his fingers. Attempt fervidly to pry his grip from your neck to no avail.

"Don't say his fucking name ... Not in my house. You and those pirates think you're so clever sneaking around tonight. Did you honestly think I would take your word on some filthy pirate? That I wouldn't have you watched after strictly forbidding you to see him? Darling, surely you aren't that pathetic..."

The sound of Lee's voice drifts in and out along with your consciousness. Your limbs feel heavy, moving lethargically with each thrashing movement. Before your vision fades to black, Lee drops your body to the floor. A loud smack echoes the halls once your skin meets the marble.

For a moment there is only the sound of your hacking. A poor attempt to force your lungs to work. Lee bends at the knees to observe you. Ponder on if this punishment is enough. If you had endured enough pain to assuage his anger.

"Tell me sweetheart..." He reaches out to sweep the hair out of your face. He caresses your check lightly before continuing. "Is the garden you and the swordsman's special place? Uh? Do the two of you sneak off and laugh at the fool you make of me?"

You go to speak, curse that your words would fail you in such a crucial time. Your brain is too light headed and caught off guard to have lies readily available. You avert your gaze away from the chief. Look toward all the staff too afraid of the man's wrath to watch his atrocities' face on, but bear witness all the same.

When you don't respond, Lee stands. That darkness has consumed the totality of his eyes. Your husband -and what little humanity resided left in him- is gone. The chief: Judge, Jury, and Executioner stood before you determining your sentence.

"You want to leave ? Go ! Be with the swordsman!"

The hair on your neck stands at his proclamation. Lee had sneered you with one trap . You would be foolish to allow him to devour you whole in another. You shake your head 'no'. Repent to the man. Implore his forgiveness. The chief stares unmoved. Glowering down at you with a merciless grin.

"I warned you before Honey. There is only one way your leaving."

You push your back further into the doors. Willing them to burst open at the force. Your eyes scatter the area as he approaches. There is nowhere to run. Nothing to grab. You are utterly helpless to the whims of the chief.

Lee fists his hand into your hair, grabbing tightly, then pulls to drag you along the floor. The scream you let out at the sting does not deter him. Neither does your kicking, or clawing at his fingers in hopes of relief. None of it offers any reprieve.

"I don't want to leave. I don't want to go with the swordsman. Please Lee- Let me stay." You wail. Your heels slide against the stone floor foiling your attempts to dig your feet into the ground.

Lee has made it to the bottom of the staircase, and finally in the chaos, you are able to ascertain his plans. This was it, the final straw on the camel's back. The last defiance Lee is willing to forgive. He had finally deemed you useless. Worthless. And was planning to get rid of you in such a manner.

"I tried to teach you sweetheart, but you just won't learn." He scolds

Your body must be weightless the way Lee is so effortlessly dragging you up the steps. Was this really how things were going to end? Had the chief decided himself so deserving of his authority he would rule without the woman who made him monarch in the first place? Your father must be turning in his grave at the sight.

"I'll be good. I promise!" You weep. Your hands are tangled in your hair searching for relief.

The chief lets out an obnoxious laugh. Now that the two of you are at the top of the stairs, it has only gotten easier for the man to drag you along the hardwood floor. The entrance to your bedroom is coming into view. The boom of your heart thumping rings in your ears. Your time is running out.

"Trying to play me like some fucking idiot. I guess you are your fathers daughter after all... "

Fervidly you press white fingertips into the door frame, using all the strength you had to fight against Lee's pull. It is no use. Like a rag doll at the manipulation of her owner you're easily forced into the room.

"I'll have to take care of you, just like I did your father."

"Please ! Please ! Please ! Please -" You beg, pleas barely audible in the midst of your sobs.

Your eyes scatter the room in one last stitch effort to save your life. If this were it, you refused to go quietly. Scissors. They have fallen from the top of your dresser onto the floor in front of the bed. You thank whatever god has taken mercy on you. Whoever decided the chief plans too nefarious to come to fruition.

You snatch the blades as he drags you past the bed. Jab the tool into the chief's feet before withdrawing and jamming it into his thigh. Lee lets out a sharp yelp, before falling to the floor. He curses loudly, grasping his wound. There is no time to revel in victory.

Hastily you rush to your feet, fleeing out the room. You can hear the man shouting out after you, but the mistake is already made. Too deep to fall to your knees and beg forgiveness now.

***

The rain refuses to let up. With each thud of your feet against the wet forest floor, you swear the drops only quicken in pace. The regal gown you wear , or the pieces that remain in tack, are soaked through. Your heels are long discarded in the shuffle. In spite of the adrenaline pumping through your veins, you shudder at the brisk winds.

You push your discomfort aside. No time to think about the weather, when you had to flee as far away from your home as you could. you had gotten away once , surely you could do it again. Had to be able to do it again.

guilt consumes you with each step you plow into the ground. Leaving behind the home your mother raised you in. The land your father thought sacred- just to save yourself. Selfish. That's all you are. Selfish. Pitiful. Failure- Your thoughts flee when you go crashing onto the wet forest ground.

Hurriedly you wipe at your face to see the culprit of your disruption. It is to no avail. The rain has done a remarkable job at distorting your vision. The darkness is its fateful ally. You can barely make out the voices calling to you through the rumbling of the thunder.

"What are you doing out here?"

There's a hand around your arm dragging you up before you are able to grasp your bearings. Fear consumes you too much to focus. Only know that getting caught isn't not an option. You jerk to free your arm, but the hold is too strong.

"Y/n!"

Your panic forces coherence. Your vision finally comes to.

Zoro.

His face is contorted into a grimace as he looks you over. His hand travels up and down your arm as though he could wash the bruises away with the fallen rain. When the wounds remain the pirate pierces his eye into yours.

"What Happened?" He growls.

Your arms wrap your body. As if you could stretch your limbs around you like Strawhat to hide your bruises. Eyes quick to dart away from him. For a second you try to conjure up a palatable explanation. One that would soothe the fire in the pirate's eye. Eradicate the concern from his voice. But there is none.

For the first time in six months you are all out of excuses. All out of ways to justify the pain away. No words to lie reassurance into anyone's hearts.

Your eyes are glued to the floor shielding your face from your audience. From Zoro. Your skin trembles against his fingers. Using his free hand, Zoro wraps his fingers gently around your chin. You wince at his touch. The sting is intense despite his delicate disposition.

Don't want to expose yourself to him any further. The scratches and cuts that covered you were indicator enough of your injuries. The swordsman does not care. He gently presses against your jaw , forcing your head up to see the fingers indented into your neck. The red bands evidence of your skirmish even without your confirmation.

You feel small underneath Zoro's gaze. There's a mix of emotions that flow through his eye. Anger. Relief. Guilt. The only that's lingers is pity. It makes your skin crawl to see it so clearly painted on his face.

"Did he do this to you?" The swordsman barks.

You want to run. You're going to run. Refuse to be subjected to the pitiful glances and stares . It is as if Zoro can read your mind, tightening his grip around your arm the moment your muscles tense beneath him.

"...Yes." The answer is almost lost in the storm.

Zoro releases you. His hand immediately finds Enma's hilt. Wordlessly he turns to walk in the direction of the castle. His crewmates do not speak. Wouldn't dare ask where he was going when the answer is so obvious.

"Please- Zoro! Don't leave me!" You sob, tears mixing into the rainfall that covers your cheeks. Your voice, broken from Lee's abuse, forces your plea to come out as a strained cry. Zoro stops in his tracks to glance your way.

"I know I don't deserve you! I know you're too good for me! I know! But please-"

You can barely make him out as he approaches. The blur from the showers distorts his figure. Can only make out the swordsman sheathing his weapon. In seconds he is within your grasp, drawing you into his chest as his arms wrap around your shoulder.

"Shh- I'm right here."

You curl into his hold, trying to shield yourself from everyone- everything. Can only bawl into the pirates chest. Your legs fail you. Too weak to hold their own. Zoro does not let you fall, holds all your weight against him as you cry.

"He killed him. He killed my father."

There is only the sound of thunder in the air. You have rendered the pirate speechless. This was probably the first time the swordsman has ever not known what to say. How to comfort you. Zoro holds you tighter, closer. Rubs your back in a soothing way.

"... Let's go home." Zoro whispers, kissing the top of your head.

The walk to the sunny is silent. Not even the pirate captain has anything to say. It's hard not to feel on display in the midst of everyone stares. You know your friends do not mean to watch in the way they do. To trail their eyes down your abused body every time they glance your way. Probably just taken aback by your appearance. You look far worse than when you washed ashore on the beach. Still, it makes you want to hide. Strip yourself of your skin to escape their stares.

Zoro glances over at you every few seconds like he must be sure you're still there. That you haven't abandoned his side. Run off to lick your wounds in isolation.

"Here."

The pirate strips out of his suit jacket then wraps it around your shoulders. Although soaked from the rain you appreciate having the cover. For being able to give your arms a break from shielding you. The coolness against your skin actually offers some relief to the pain drenching your body.

Immediately once you board Sunny, Zoro is walking you to the infirmary to have chopper look at you. He does not ask, and you get the impression that the topic isn't up for debate. Chopper does not ask any questions. Doesn't pry about how your injuries came about. Just treats each wound, handling you as delicately as he can.

Zoro holds your hand the entire appointment. lightly rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. You squeeze his fingers tightly at Chopper feeling your neck.

"It's okay princess, you're doing so good. He's almost done. Right chopper?"

"All done." The reindeer backs away hooves up as proof. "I'm going to give you some ice for your neck, leave it on for about twenty minutes."

"And the rest of her bruises?" Zoro asks.

"I don't have any reason to believe there is internal bleeding, but we will keep an eye on your condition the next couple days just to be sure."

Chopper extends out an ice pack for you then goes to rifle through the medication cabinet. Once convinced he has all he needs he turns to hand you two bottles.

"These are for the pain. Take these in the morning " He holds up one bottle, shakes it lightly then picks up the other. "These are for night."

Zoro reaches to take both bottles before you have the chance to.

"Thank you chopper."

-

Zoro holds your hand the whole way to his quarters. Though you told him when you first boarded the ship you could walk on your own now, he does not let you go. You suspect Zoro is scared of where you'll go if he does.

When the two of you walk into his quarters it is quiet. Only the soft sound of the waves swaying the boat fills the air. You make your way to the bed, flopping lazily on top of the comforter. Your body begs the comfort of a soft mattress after all the harsh treatment. When you look over at Zoro he hasn't moved.

The swordsman's back is against the door as though he is guarding it. Covering the exits so you could not scurry away from him again. His gaze doesn't linger on you, instead he stares out of the singular port hole into the darkness of the night.

The quiet begins to eat away at your consciousness. Usually silence was comfortable between you and the pirate. No words ever needed to be exchanged to feel the comfort of the other person's presence. But now was different-

Now you stood in front of the swordsman with your heart in pieces, just as broken as him. Waiting for him to put the pieces back together like he had done unknowingly so many times before. How could two people, broken the way you two are broken, offer anyone comfort or solace?

"Is this what you didn't want to tell me? ..." Zoro asks.

His voice battles the waves for space in the room. Wins only barely taking its place. You don't say anything. Act as though his question going unanswered, will keep the truth from spilling into the space.

"How long?"

"... Since my father died."

Zoro gives you a curt nod before pushing himself away from the door. Still his eye does not fall on you. Part of you begins to wander if it's intentional. If the sight of your broken body is just too much for the swordsman to bear.

"You can take the bed. I'll wake you up when it's time to take your meds again. Chopper will be just down the hall. If you need me, I'll be in the crow's nest." He begins to ramble.

As your mind reels the pirate starts to rifle through his clothes for a clean shirt. A task you are sure requires exceptional effort in his messy quarters. After the third black tee Zoro finds a clean one and hands it out to you. Only then has your mind caught up enough to clasp his wrist.

"I don't want to sleep alone." You admitted. "Please don't make me sleep another night without you."

Zoro exhales a shaky breath. Like it is taking everything in him to grasp his bearings.

"Okay. " He whispers in response.

The sentiment settles and wrenches your heart. The guilt pains you much more than the bruises ever could. The physical pain would heal. In time the red marks around your throat would fade. The cuts that cover your feet will only be a distant memory. But you will forever have to live with the pain of what you did to the swordsman.

As Zoro climbs into the bed you wonder why he still has so much affection left for you. Why he was offering refuge after the terrible things you said. Think it might have been better had he screamed. Cursed and yelled at the sight of you, opposed to these gentle ministrations. After all, you deserved to feel a fraction of the pain you have put him through.

"I'm so sorry Zoro. I-"

"Go to sleep." He mutters. Lazily wrapping an arm around your waist. "We can talk in the morning."

The swordsman holds you close to his chest. His hold is so tight it slightly stings against your wounds. If you concentrate enough you swear you can feel Zoro's heart thumping violently.

The smell of the sea can almost deceive you into believing you're on the beach. That things are okay. The daydream only crushes your spirits more. Emphasizes how your world is actively crumbling around you.

You wished you had the heart to let it go. To not need reassurance at his expense. But the words are fumbling out your mouth before you can stop them.

"Do you still love me?" You choke out.

There is no strength left to hold back any tears. To swallow the vulnerability before the pirate is able to see it. All that is left is to slice your chest open for the swordsman. Show him all the broken ribs you have endured trying to protect your heart only to have it broken in the end.

"I still love you." He confirms placing a kiss to your temple.

The words bring more anguish than relief. A visceral hurt cascades your body. All you can do is sob. Grasping desperately onto his arm in an attempt to ground yourself.

"I hate him, Zoro. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him."

"I'm going to kill him." The pirate announces.

The definiteness in his voice , kin to when he announced he would be the strongest swordsman in the world. You turn in his arms to face him, and this time when you look up at the pirate he is meeting your gaze. The stress of the day so clearly pronounced by the bags under his eyes.

"Zoro you don't hav-"

"Go to sleep." The swordsman reiterates, before you can continue. He sweeps his thumb across your cheek to wipe away your tears, even though more come to replace them. He gives you a soft, weak smile before gently pressing his lips to yours. The feather light touch has you second guessing if you had felt him at all.

"We'll talk in the morning."

—————————————————————————————

A/n: Hey luvbugs! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Comment your favorite quote 👀 or part ! I’d love to know. I think there’s gonna be about two more parts left at the most. Ahhhh can’t believe we’re almost done.

If you would like to be on the taglist , let me know ! I’d love to have you! :)

Tag List: @turtletaubwrites @jinjen @sanzu-clinic @heyauntieeee @honeybuzzzzzz @nothing-but-brass @katiemrty @zorotime @kahelis @vikispike @haitaniwhor3 @starlightanyaaa

[ysrjune]

stephen walking in on you jumping his pillows??

Stephen had taken you to his apartment for the night since you decided to visit him for the last hour he had to work. You were in his office, staying quiet and watching him type and write things away. Once he was finished, you talked with him for a while until his shift was over.

You came in a taxi, so he just took you with him in his car. Laughs and conversations filled the car all the way from work, the parking lot, and his apartment. You both lay in his bed, kissing for a while. Kiss marks were left all over his face.

“Gotta go wash these off, sweetie.” He chuckled and kissed your cheek. “Be right back, don't run off.” Stephen jokes, quickly going to his dresser to find comfy bottoms and a shirt, then walks to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

You lay on your back and sighed. Literally, nothing was planned for you today except for all the chores you had to finish earlier. Not to mention the fact that you were so worked up and needed your boyfriend so bad all day.

You had no idea if he was in the mood or not, but if he wasn't, you were gonna put him in it. You swiftly removed all your clothes and grabbed one of your boyfriends’ pillows. At a slow pace that eventually sped up, you rocked your hips on it and imagined it was Stephen.

“Babe, hurry up!” You called out to which he replied, “Almost done, I'll just be a minute!” He was probably brushing his teeth, too. You waited until he came out, wiping off his glasses, not looking at you immediately. “Sorry I took so long. I decided to brush my teeth and scrub my face real good.” Stephen explains and put his glasses back on.

As soon as he looked at what you were doing, he froze and started blushing. “Babe.. what are you doing.” He asks shyly. “What does it look like im doing?” You reply, going slower.

“you—you know, if.. if you wanted to.. do something you could've just asked..” he slowly walked over to you, placing his hands on your hips. “Mm—I wouldn't have said no, you know that, baby.” He breathes out, his right hand dropping down to your clit and letting his middle finger slide up and down.

You let out a small moan and drape your hands over his shoulders. “I don't know.. I guess I just—” you paused for a second, feeling his finger move back and forth on you. “just wanted to see what you would do when you saw what I was doing.

“Wishing my face was that pillow, if im being honest.” What? Did he really just say that, or did you imagine it..

“What did you sa—”

“Sit on my face. Please sit on my face, baby.” He cut you off and went down on his knees, hands reaching behind your thighs to pull you closer so he could suck on your folds. “You're.. wet.” He quietly states, pulling away while your bodily fluids connect with his lips.

“Makes me so hard to see you be the needy one..” He gently pushed you down and dragged you closer to his mouth. “if only you could see what I see. Mmm, this pretty pussy is all mine.” He groaned against the lips and then started to eat you like a starved man.

Your moans filled the room. Fingers tangling in his curly hair and hearing the sloppiest noises coming from his tongue exploring you. “Come on, baby, please? I dont wanna ask again..” He stopped.

“Okay, fine..” You replied, and he got what he wanted. Your hands gripped the headboard, and your hips rolled on his face while he was eating you out. His arms were gripping your thighs, too. He moaned and made all sorts of noises while doing this.

After cumming all over his face, he wanted you to ride him. And what happened? That pretty boy got what he wanted. He tried ditching the glasses, but you didn't let him. Not ever.

His hands kept moving from your tits, ass, hips, and thighs while you were doing this. A hair fell onto his forehead, making him look so cute. Cheeks stained deep pink, glasses that kept falling down the bridge of his nose.. that piece of hair did wonders.

A bunch of babbles came from him, saying how he loves you and your pussy so much. Or telling you how hes so lucky to be with a gorgeous girl like you. He just praised you so much since its all he ever does. Stephen likes to show you how much hes enjoying himself.

“‘m gonna cum, baby, pleasepleaseplease dont stop.” he whined into your shoulder, shaking his head. sniffles fell from his nose. was he really crying? was he that overstimulated? “im—shit, mm! im cumming!” he thrusts into you, moaning as soon as his seed shot into you.

—

so it mine el

[pinkie-pop]

"Reincarnated As The Cringefail Lord of Hell's Second Child."

Part I Part || Part III

Sequel to this.

Featuring: Gender-Neutral Reader, Morningstar! Reader, Platonic Hazbin Hotel x Reader, Yandere Hazbin Hotel

Word count: 2.7k

Includes: Alastor being creepy, invasion of (your) privacy, bad things are coming...

Synopsis: A straightforward isekai story, you're reborn as the devil's child. With knowledge of your past life and the show your new world is based on, it's clear that you must be destined for greatness. The only question remains: why does everyone around you seem to be acting so...strange?

•~•~•~•~•~•~•

There's nothing better than the payoff that a successful scheme brings. Vaggie returns to the hotel a few hours after your talk with her, and with her is a pair of two gorgeous angelic wings.

“Wait, yer an exorcist?!” Angel exclaims, throwing his top arms up, and using his bottom pair to pull himself up from his position on the couch. “How did I not know about this?!” He looks around, shaking his head wildly. Husk merely shrugs. 

“Maybe if you weren't high all the time-”

“Oh, yeah, like yer one to talk, Mr. Hasn't-been-seen-without-a-bottle-in-seven-years!”

Charlie claps her hands together, effectively stopping the two before their banter turns into an actual fight. “Okay, so Vaggie's an angel, that doesn't mean that-” 

“Oh yeah, easy for you to say, Princess. I bet ya already knew about this, didn't ya?” 

“I mean, I did. But-!” 

“Then why didn't ya say anything?!”

“It wasn't my place to-”

Angel dramatically falls back onto the couch. Odd, you think, his reaction wasn't nearly this strong in the show, why is he- “Whatever. I need a drink,” he says getting up. “Husk! Pour me a drink!” Husk grumbles something under his breath as Angel passes you to get his drink. 

“I think he's over it,” you say, glancing over your shoulder at Angel, who is drinking straight from the bottle. “So, an angel, huh? How exciting! My dad was an angel, too, y'know?” Vaggie looks unimpressed at your attempt to pretend this is new information, but you ignore her. 

“Yeah…I know,” she says flatly. “Anyway, Carmilla agreed to supply us with angelic weapons at a discounted price, should we need them.” 

“Why would we need them?” Charlie asks, looking worried. Vaggie looks away, briefly making eye contact with you. 

‘Something’s going to happen on extermination day,’ you say, looking oddly certain. 

“Just…in case,” she says, offering an unsure smile. 

“Well ain't that fuckin’ ominous,” Angel pipes up from the bar. “Care ta enlighten us as ta why we might need em, toots? Something a little less vague than ‘Just in case'?” Angel puts down his drink (which is really just a whole bottle of what appears to be a mix of tequila and vodka—it’s a good thing he's already dead, you think to yourself) to make air quotes with his hand. 

“Angel, I think you're drunk,” you say, diffusing the situation. “You're slurring your words.” He's not, but you figure the statement will draw his attention towards you and away from Vaggie. You don't need him prying and accidentally figuring out something he shouldn't know.

“Am not slurin’ my words” He slurs, then slumps over, immediately falling asleep in an almost cartoonish fashion. Well, you suppose you are in a cartoon, you think to yourself, but you know that's not the reason for his sudden drunken state.

No, you're sure the sleeping spell you cast on him was by far the more likely cause. 

Alastor, who had been quietly observing the whole time, widens his grin with a look that seems to say ‘I know you did that’ but you ignore his gaze and ask Charlie for help taking Angel back to his room. 

While Charlie is busy tucking a grown man into bed, you slip out of the room and bump right into Alastor, who seems to have followed the two of you back to Angel's room. 

You have a bad feeling about this. Of all the many characters in Hazbin Hotel to avoid, Alastor probably ranked at the top of your list. You really don't need him getting curious about you.

“Why, hello there, little one,” he says, peering down at you. You think his eyes may be glowing, but you aren't sure. 

“Uh, hi?” you say, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. You glance back at the door. Charlie will be emerging from it soon. She'll save you, right?

“I couldn't help but notice the little ‘stunt’ you pulled with dear Angel Dust earlier—quite amusing, I must say! And I don't say that lightly. Might I ask you to join me on a stroll so that we might…discuss it?” He asks. You swear the room’s temperature just dropped. 

“I'm not going anywhere with you,” you say. “Dad told me not to talk to strangers.” 

“Ah, still playing the role of an innocent child now, are we?” He says casually. You stand a little straighter. “Not to worry, I'm a good friend of your sister, and besides, we have much to discuss!”

“We don't have anything to ‘discuss’,” You say firmly, moving to walk past him when he grabs your arm. 

“You may not have anything to discuss with me, but I have much to say to you,” he says. His tone then shifts to something more dangerous as he says, “And believe me,” he leans down to your level. “You don't want to see me when I get angry.” It's a cliché line and not at all scary. Even with the voodoo sigils floating around him and his radio-knob irises, you hold firm. 

“If I scream, Charlie and the rest of the hotel will hear me,” you say. The static around you dissipates, and Alastor's grin twitches in annoyance. 

“Very well,” he says, swinging his cane and turning to leave. “But this won't be our last encounter. Sooner or later, you'll give me the answers I want.” And just like that, he walks away. 

Once he's out of view, you sink to your knees. Despite your firm insistence that he didn't scare you, it was stressful nonetheless. Having him leave merely sucked the stress out of you, and momentarily took the strength from your legs. 

Yes, that's right. That's all it was. Your human nature makes you wary of him, but your demonic side keeps you steady. Soon, you'll be more demon than human, and this so-called ‘fear’ will be nothing more than a fleeting memory. 

Not that you were scared. 

“[Name]…? What are you doing on the floor?”

“It's comfortable down here,” you mutter, standing to your feet. “I'm going to bed early tonight. Where's my room again?”

•~•~•~•~•~•~•

You flop on to your and Lucifer's bed (king-sized, thanks to Lucifer's magic), exhausted. You bring your stuffed demon bear (Mr. Snuggles—a gift from Lilith, before she left) to your chest and sigh. You close your eyes. A lot happened today, and you could use some rest. 

But before that…

You open your eyes and sit upright, swinging your legs over the bed and standing. You walk to the small writing desk by the door and summon your diary from seemingly thin air, and begin writing. Journaling is a habit you formed as soon as you were able to hold a pen (this has left the first few entries of your diary completely illegible, but you were able to transcribe them once you had developed a steadier hand), and something you kept up to this day. You document today’s events, making sure to note Alastor’s suspicious behavior, then close and lock your diary. It’s a rather unnecessary step, considering you’ll be sending it back to the subspace you summoned it from, but the lock puts you at ease regardless. 

You’ve just finished clicking the lock back into place when Lucifer walks in.

“What’s that?” He asks curiously, walking over to take a peek. Without thinking of how suspicious your actions may come across, you quickly dismiss the journal back to your subspace. 

“Nothing!” You say, a tad too loudly. You clear your throat. “Nothing,” you say, quieter, this time. Lucifer opens his mouth to speak, and you realize you need to change the subject, and fast. “Um, I just realized we didn't bring any clothes with us. If we're going to be staying here, we'll need to get some.” Lucifer seems to hesitate before taking your bait, using magic to summon your wardrobe from the palace to the hotel’s drawers. You pick out a pair of pajamas and head to the bathroom to change, while Lucifer uses magic to change his own clothes instantly. When you return, he's already in bed, smiling and eagerly patting the space next to him.

Wait…what's in his hand?

You take a closer look. 

Isn't that…? 

Oh God. 

Oh fuck. 

“Dad, I don't-” 

“C'mon, sweetie, let me read you a bedtime story!” He says, opening the book of fairytales, eyes practically shining. It's endearing, in a way, the way he constantly tries to be a good father to you. But it's also annoying. You're a grown adult, for Christ's sake. You don't want to be read a bedtime story.

But it's not like you can just tell him that. 

“...Okay,” you say, climbing up to the bed and nestling yourself beside him.

It's surprisingly soothing. A hellish retelling of Cinderella, spoken to you in a soft, rhythmic voice. It reminds you of ASMR, in a way. You find yourself drifting off to sleep before you even realize you're tired.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•

[Name] fell asleep. 

It’s not surprising, the story Lucifer read to you is known to make children sleepy. Still, he was half-expecting it to fail, or for you to refuse to listen to a story altogether. 

You look so young, curled up like this. So innocent. 

You look like a kid.

Lucifer’s stomach churns. What were you writing about? He knows he should respect your privacy, but…

Something tells him it’s important. He’s seen you write in that notebook before. He knows it’s a diary.

He shouldn’t read it.

He shouldn’t but…

Lucifer taps into the subspace you’ve been using (you may be unusually good at magic for your age, but you’re still a novice. You haven’t learned to secure your network yet.). He pulls out your diary but pauses when he sees the lock. 

He could open it with nothing more than a wave of his hand if he wanted to (and God, he did want to). But it feels wrong. Like he’s encroaching on something sacred. 

If he puts it back now, nothing will change. He’ll stay ignorant. You’ll keep your secrets. But your relationship won’t be affected. The two of you will go back to playing family, and he’ll never know what’s so important to you that you created a private network and a lock to keep it hidden.

He could do that, but…

He opens the diary. The first few pages are impossible to decipher, but pages 6 and onwards are legible. 

October 3rd, 20XX

This is a transcription of the following days: September1st, September 9th, September 16th, and September 22nd.

‘September 1st…? They couldn’t have been older than a month old when this was written,’ Lucifer thinks. Demons develop themselves faster than humans, but even by a demons standard, learning to read and write within just a month of being born is…unheard of.

Lucifer keeps reading.

September 1st, 20XX

I’m finally strong enough to crawl around and hold a pen. Thank goodness. Being trapped in a body you can’t control with nothing but your thoughts to keep you company is pure torture. Though, I suppose this is hell. Perhaps that was the point…? No, if that were the case, I’d never be able to walk and write, let alone so fast. I haven’t been able to keep track of the days, and the clocks are all too high to read, so I have no idea how long I’ve been here, but I saw a calendar hanging in the kitchen. I hope it’s up to date. 

I was able to pinch myself today, but it didn’t hurt. I’d count it as evidence that I’m in a dream but…well, it could also just mean that I’m too weak for it to work. I’ll try again once I’m a little bigger. 

Dreams don’t usually last this long, do they? Perhaps I’m in a coma. I must’ve gotten into a horrible accident, and I’m on the verge of death. This is just my brain spitting out random information from my subconscious. That’s why Lucifer and Lilith are here. That’s why I’m in Hazbin Hotel. It can’t be anything else.

Lucifer furrows his eyebrows. How did you know about the hotel, seven years before its opening?

September 9th, 20XX

Lilith gave me a Teddy bear today. She called it a hell bear. It’s cute, and something I probably would have kept in my room before all this. It’s less babyish than the rest of the things she’s given me. Lucifer named it for me. Mr. Snuggles, he says, in a mock baby voice. It’s bad. I know I’m in the body of a baby right now, but it still feels a little belittling whenever he does that. I used to pay taxes, you know! Sure, I liked cute things every now and again, but I was still a bona fide working adult. …Mr. Snuggles is a cute name, though. 

A working adult? Taxes? You thought his baby voice was stupid?

Okay, maybe that last one was less important, but still. Ouch.

September 16th, 20XX

I finally found the library. Goodbye, boredom! 

Lack of proper stimulation was slowly killing me. If I were an actual baby, the mobile and fairytales would probably have been enough to keep me sated, but, well, you know.

Anyway, the novels I’ve been reading lately have been pretty good, I think I’m able to more or less pick out which ones belonged to who. Mostly by the way they’re organized. The novels stored in the shelves under the staircase all have happy endings and sappy romance, they seem to be Charlie’s. The stories near the front have badass female protagonists and are usually crime mysteries and thrillers, probably belonging to Lilith. The informationals on various animals and other special interests are likely Lucifer’s. And the books in the very back…are all pornography. I’m not sure whose those are, and I’m not really sure I want to know.

Lucifer’s face turns bright red, and he nearly squeaks, but he manages to reel himself in and continue reading.

September 22nd 20XX

I’m able to crawl up stairs now. The second floor of the library is filled with Grimores. They contain complicated mathematical formulas and intricate sigils. I’ve done the math over and over, but I can’t seem to find any flaws with them. I’m not smart enough to have come up with the formulas on my own, so unless I’m doing something wrong, there’s a pretty good chance that this isn’t a dream after all. 

Come to think of it, you’re not supposed to be able to read in dreams, either. 

…I just pinched myself. Ouch.

Lucifer’s mind is racing. Nothing about this makes sense, and yet it explains so much, and yet—

He flips the page.

October 4th, 20XX

It took me a few days, but I’ve finally accepted this as my new reality. I’ve transmigrated into the body of [Name], a never before seen and likely nonexistent character of Hazbin Hotel, who just so happens to share the same name as myself. 

It’s…a tough pill to swallow. I miss my family, my friends, my home.

I may never be able to go back. But I have to try. I’ll read every grimore in the library, even the ones written in ancient languages, I’ll find a way to translate them, I’ll learn the language if I have to. Whatever it takes, I will see this done. I can’t give up. Even if I have to lose what it means to be human, even if I have to become a demon, that’s okay, once I’m back, I can relearn  what it means to be human. There’s so much I haven’t done back on Earth. So much I’ve never seen. So much I’ve never done, never said. I have too many regrets to just sit back and accept this.

I’ll find a way home.

You’re…leaving?

Home? You’re already home. This is your home now. These past seven years, have they all been a lie? Did it really mean nothing to you? Did he mean nothing to you?

Sure, you’ve always been distant, always been a bit too mature, but you were still a child. You were still his child. 

Weren’t you?

You’re…going to leave. To throw him away. Just like Lilith. 

No, he can’t lose you too. He won’t. He’ll find a way to stop you. 

Even if it means you can’t smile the way you used to, even if it means you don’t love him the same. He has to keep you. 

But he can’t do it alone.

Tucking the diary under his arm, Lucifer is careful not to wake you as he leaves your shared bedroom.

Taglist: @Halparkebitch @American-idiot21 @Toast-on-dandelioms @Mixplarab @aria-tempest @nirvana5874 @arsonist-on-fire @dollsgate @shoebillcuicui @galaxywing-has-adhd @sakuraluna2468 @luckywitchsong @ibcreations-blog @heather-hutchcroft @thoughtfulbananaduckcroissant @bee814 @deadgirldreaming @reikamasama @pandaquick

[pin-k-ink]

for haikyuu thirsts, atsumu drunk and choking reader while overstimulating them, not caring if they ask him to stop or slow down (reader likes it, duh)

orrrr bokuto "just the tipping" but he can't help how good it feels and goes all the way

ardor // miya atsumu

tw ⇢ mention of alcohol consumption, needy!tsumu, praise kink, unprotected sex, asphyxiation, overstimulation, cunnilingus, fingering, squirting, mention of pregnancy

wc ⇢ 2.4k

a/n: i wanted to write for bo so bad but i felt like atsumu deserves his own fic since osamu got one too. i’ll write a longer one someday

Atsumu stumbled through the doorway, the apartment quiet except for the faint sounds of a TV playing in the living room. A lopsided grin spread across his face as he spotted you curled up on the couch, eyes glued to whatever show was on the screen.

He paused for a moment, drinking in the sight of you looking so cozy and at home in his space. Your hair was pulled up in a messy bun, a few stray strands falling around your face. The dim lighting from the TV cast flickering shadows that danced across your features as you nibbled absentmindedly on your lower lip, completely absorbed.

Atsumu's heart swelled with a fierce tenderness. After being surrounded by raucous teammates all night at the MSBY Black Jackals' end-of-season party, coming home to find you here waiting for him made everything feel right in his world again.

You jumped slightly when he finally shuffled further into the room, head swiveling towards the noise. "Atsumu? There you are." You blinked a few times, taking in his rumpled appearance and glazed eyes. "Geez, what time even is it? The team party must have been really fun if you're just getting back now."

"Not much fun without ya there," he slurred, kicking off his shoes in a haphazard trail towards the couch before flopping down beside you. He immediately nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your comfortingly familiar scent. "Couldn't stop thinkin' about ya all night, babe."

You laughed softly at his drunken antics, giving his disheveled blonde hair an affectionate ruffle. "Is that so? Well, I'm just glad you made it home safe."

Atsumu pulled back reluctantly, hands coming up to cradle your face as he studied your features with an intense yet unfocused gaze. His thumb stroked along the curve of your cheekbone as his eyes roamed hungrily over you.

"Have I told ya how gorgeous ya are today?" His voice was low and rough with longing. "Because ya are. Stunning."

You felt your cheeks warm at his unabashed admiration, suddenly very aware of your casual lounge wear and lack of makeup compared to how you'd been dolled up the last time he had seen you a few days ago.

"Once or twice," you murmured back, trying for a teasing tone to hide your self-consciousness. "But I don't mind hearing it again."

Atsumu's lips curved into a slow, heated smile at your words. He leaned in closer, movements heavy and intoxicated yet brimming with yearning. You shivered at the feeling of his warm breath fanning across your skin as he paused, just inches from your mouth.

"Then let me show ya how much I mean it..."

His lips finally met yours in a searing, hungry kiss that left you dizzy and aching for his touch. Months of long separations and lonely nights apart came pouring out as you clutched desperately at him. Your fingers threaded through his silky hair, pulling him even closer until there was no space left between your bodies.

What started soft and tender quickly grew more heated and frantic, like a dam finally bursting under the relentless pressure of long-restrained passion.

Their kisses deepened, growing hungrier and more desperate with each heated exchange. Atsumu's hands roamed reverently over your body, mapping out the curves he had committed to memory yet could never get enough of. You arched into his touch with a soft whimper, craving to be even closer.

He obliged by pulling you fully into his lap, the new position allowing no space between your bodies. One of his hands threaded into your hair to angle your head how he wanted while the other pressed firmly into the small of your back, keeping you flush against him.

You could feel the hard planes of his chest through the thin fabric of his shirt, and yearned to rid yourself of the barriers between you both. Your fingers toyed with the hem of his top before slipping boldly underneath, seeking out the heated skin below.

Atsumu's breath hitched at the feeling of your fingertips gliding across his abs and he pulled away from the kiss, breathing ragged. His eyes were dark with arousal and his gaze was fixed firmly on your kiss-swollen lips.

"I wanna taste every part of ya," he growled, hands clenching involuntarily where they rested on your hips. "Every inch. Wanna hear ya moan my name over 'n over again until it's all ya can remember."

You loved the way he always seemed to know exactly what you craved, pushing boundaries while still treating you like something precious. A shuddering gasp escaped your lips when his tongue delved deeper, stoking the simmering fire between you both.

Atsumu growled low in his throat, the vibration sending sparks dancing along your nerves. Without breaking the searing kiss, he deftly maneuvered until you were stretched out beneath him on the couch. His solid weight pinned you deliciously in place as you arched shamelessly against him, desperate for friction.

"Babe..." he groaned when you nipped at his full lower lip. "Need you...so bad..."

You tugged impatiently at his shirt, wanting nothing more than to run your hands all over his bare skin. His mouth left yours briefly to allow the fabric to slip over his head, and then he was pressing feverish kisses down your jaw and neck, leaving no part untouched.

His large, calloused hands slipped under the hem of your loose tank top, caressing the sensitive skin of your stomach before slowly pushing the material up and exposing your torso to his hungry gaze. Your nipples hardened when they met the cool air, and you whimpered as his hot mouth began to make its way further south, stopping to lavish attention on the delicate curve of your breast.

"So gorgeous, babe," he breathed, the heat of his breath and the brush of his lips on your skin making you tremble.

One of his hands palmed the neglected mound while his mouth teased the nipple, teeth scraping lightly over the pebbled flesh before his tongue swirled and soothed. The contrast between sharp and soft had you panting and writhing, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Atsumu took his sweet time, working you over until your legs were quaking and you could barely stand it anymore. Just when you thought you couldn't take it anymore, he switched his attention to the other side, his free hand trailing fire over the sensitized skin his mouth had just left.

When he finally moved on, your nerves were singing with electricity, his every touch and whisper sending shockwaves rippling through you. The ache between your legs throbbed insistently, begging for attention. You whined in protest when he began moving away, your body craving the delicious pressure of his weight atop you.

Atsumu grinned up at you from where he had settled between your thighs, his face flushed with arousal and hair sticking up from where you had pulled and tugged on the strands.

"Don't worry, babe. Gonna give ya exactly what ya need..."

Your breath caught in your throat at the lustful promise in his tone, the anticipation only heightening the thrill. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your shorts and panties, slowly sliding the two pieces of clothing down your legs until you were completely exposed to him.

His gaze raked over your nude form with unabashed hunger, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. "So fucking beautiful."

You felt your face flush at the raw desire in his voice, and shifted restlessly under the intensity of his gaze. He held your eyes as he lowered his head to press an open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh, his tongue flicking out to taste the soft skin.

"And ya taste so fuckin' good too," he groaned, licking his lips as if savoring the taste.

His hot mouth made its way higher, and higher, until he was nosing along the crease of your thigh, so close to where you desperately needed him yet maddeningly far.

"Atsumu, please," you whimpered, hips bucking slightly towards his mouth.

He chuckled at your obvious impatience, the puff of air sending sparks of pleasure dancing across your sensitive skin. "Always so eager for me, huh babe?"

Your only response was a wordless whine, and Atsumu finally took pity on you. He buried his face between your legs, tongue delving eagerly into the wet heat. A moan of pure relief tumbled from your lips as he began lapping greedily at your dripping core, like a man starved.

You writhed helplessly against his mouth, fingers scrabbling for purchase in his messy locks. The pressure inside was building, coiling tighter and tighter, and the only sounds in the room were your panting gasps and the wet noises of Atsumu's ministrations.

And then, suddenly, he stopped.

"N-no!" you cried, unable to stop the plaintive sound from escaping.

The bastard actually had the audacity to chuckle at your indignation, the sound dark and sinful as his eyes flashed up to meet yours.

"Shhhh, babe. Be a good girl and stay nice 'n still for me, alright?"

Before you could respond, he ducked his head once more. But instead of going back to work on your dripping center, Atsumu began to explore your folds.

"Gotta get ya ready for me, babe," he murmured, voice muffled against your skin. "Can't wait to fill ya up 'n fuck ya on the couch."

You whimpered at the dirty words, unable to form a coherent response as his mouth worked over you, alternating between soft kitten licks and broad strokes of his tongue. He traced every crease and dip, mapping out your most intimate parts with an almost reverent attention to detail.

When you felt a long finger slip inside, you could no longer hold back your moans. He pumped in and out, curling upwards with each thrust and stroking over that hidden bundle of nerves. Soon another finger joined, scissoring and stretching your tight entrance, preparing you for what was to come.

By the time a third finger slipped inside, you were a writhing, whimpering mess. Every muscle in your body was tensed in anticipation, hovering right on the edge.

"Please, Tsumu," you panted, hands scrabbling at the couch cushions, "I'm so close..."

Atsumu groaned and doubled his efforts, pumping and curling his fingers with purpose. His hot mouth sealed around your throbbing clit, tongue lashing relentlessly over the swollen bud until your entire world narrowed down to that single point of contact.

The pleasure coiled tighter and tighter, spiraling higher and higher, until finally it snapped, sending you toppling over the edge. You threw your head back with a loud cry, eyes squeezed shut and toes curled in ecstasy. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over you, the intensity nearly overwhelming.

Atsumu kept working you through your orgasm, drawing it out until the pleasure was almost too much. When you finally came down from your high, body trembling and skin flushed, he slowly withdrew his fingers, giving one final lick to your dripping core.

You opened your eyes blearily, dazed and satiated, and watched him rise up from between your legs. He had a cocky grin on his face, clearly pleased with the effect he'd had on you.

"Enjoy yerself, babe?"

You could only manage a breathy laugh in response, still coming down from the intense high. Atsumu stood up from the couch and tried to shuck off his jeans and boxers, nearly stumbling over in his inebriated state.

Your eyes drank in the sight of his chiseled torso, broad shoulders, and toned arms, and followed the line of dark hair down his sculpted abs until your gaze landed on his straining erection. It was long and thick, curving upwards and already slick with pre-cum.

Atsumu noticed you staring and grinned, stroking a hand over his length. "Like what ya see, babe? Ya want it?"

You licked your lips, nodding eagerly.

"Ya gotta ask nicely, babe," he teased, eyes darkening with lust as he continued stroking himself. To goad you even further, he gently tapped your mound with the head of his cock, leaving a very prominent stain of his precum on your skin.

"Please, Tsumu," you murmured, voice low and sultry. "I need you inside me. Need to feel you stretching me open, filling me up..."

A low groan rumbled in his throat at your words, and he wasted no time positioning himself between your spread legs, rubbing the head of his cock along your soaked slit.

You gasped when the tip breached your entrance, the stretch already making you feel deliciously full. Atsumu gripped your hips tightly, fingers digging into the soft flesh, and began to slide slowly, torturously, inch by inch.

It was almost too much, the overwhelming sensation of his thick length stretching you open and filling you so perfectly. Your inner walls clenched down tightly, as if trying to draw him even deeper.

"Fuck, yer so tight, babe," Atsumu groaned, voice strained. "Feels so good, ya have no idea..."

Finally, he bottomed out, hips flush against yours and every inch of him sheathed inside. You moaned at the feeling of being completely filled, your walls fluttering around him.

Atsumu braced his hands on either side of your head, caging you in. The heat in his gaze was almost enough to burn you.

"Yer mine, babe. All mine."

"Yes, yes, I'm yours," you whimpered, arching against him and seeking more friction. "Now please, fuck me, Tsumu!"

He smirked at your breathless plea, fingers curling around your neck so he could kiss your mouth once again, tongue sweeping into your mouth and swallowing your moans as he pulled his hips back and snapped them forward.

Your cry was muffled against his lips as he set a relentless pace, pounding into you with deep, hard thrusts. The sound of skin slapping against skin mixed with your moans and his grunts, filling the room.

One of his hands slid down to grip your hip, fingers pressing bruises into the soft flesh, while the other kept its grip on your throat, just enough pressure to send sparks dancing across your skin. You couldn't move, couldn't do anything but take everything he gave you, and it was the most exhilarating experience.

The coil inside you was winding tight again, and Atsumu could tell from the way you clenched around him. He leaned down to growl in your ear, grip tightening around your neck until you were gasping for air. "You gonna cum for me, pretty? Go on. Cum for me…"

And that was all it took for the tension to snap, a tidal wave of pleasure washing over you. Your back arched off the couch, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open in a silent scream as the orgasm ripped through you.

Atsumu showed no signs of slowing down, and the sensation was almost too much. Each thrust sent jolts of pleasure-pain shooting up your spine.

"Too much, Tsumu," you pleaded, trembling from overstimulation.

He didn't answer, merely tightened his grip on your neck and increased his pace, the sloppy wet noises of his cock slamming into you even louder now.

"Tsumu!"

He released your throat suddenly, and the rush of oxygen sent your head spinning. Atsumu gripped both your hips in a bruising hold, lifting them slightly so he could hit a new angle, and then his rhythm was faltering, thrusts becoming erratic.

"Fuck, babe, gonna cum," he gasped, the veins in his arms straining as his grip tightened. "Gonna fill ya up so good, make ya all mine."

His words sent another spark of arousal through you, and you felt your walls clenching down on him. With a few more desperate thrusts, he slammed his hips forward one last time and emptied himself inside you, thick ropes of cum painting your insides.

You could feel his cock twitching and pulsing, the sensation sending you careening over the edge for a third time. Your body was shaking and trembling, every muscle quivering and the velvety walls of your pussy undulating around him as you gushed and sprayed your juices all over his abdomen.

As you came down from the high, the full realization of what had just transpired slowly dawned on you. Atsumu had been too intoxicated to think about protection, and his release had spilled deep inside you.

"What if you got me pregnant?" you asked worriedly, propping yourself up on an elbow.

"Would be the best day of my life," he replied instantly, a lazy smile curving his lips as he rolled onto his side and gathered you close.

[haikyu-mp4]

Teamwork

word count; 1346 – f!reader

Kageyama was always persistent when he set his mind to something, and most of that dedication had always gone to volleyball. However, something else had been taking over his perfect concentration ever since the day he first talked to you. He’s in his second year at Karasuno, and it’s his first time experiencing something that feels like a crush.

You’re in Karasuno’s volleyball club, a starting player on the girls’ team. More specifically, you play in the position of setter. This year’s new captains for each team agreed that doing a joined practice would be a fun way to strengthen both teams, and this fuelled a competitive spark between you and Kageyama. You both quickly realised that Kageyama was much better than you, but that just gave you even more opportunity to learn from him. Instead of competition. it turned into friendship.

After that you kept stopping by each other when the other had practice, giving each other both teasing criticism and helpful tips, also making it very obvious that you were there to watch each other. There is no way the other members of your teams wouldn’t notice how you two were drawn to each other, but no one really witnessed any decent flirting.

Kageyama came to practice looking particularly bothered one day, making Ennoshita laugh at the pout on the youngest second-year’s face as he encouraged him to get to practising. No one dared poke the bear. No one except Hinata.

“Poutyyama!” he screeched, dancing around the taller player with a smile. “You were annoyed even before you saw me today, what’s up?” he asked, obviously aiming more at teasing than helping. However, Kageyama finally fell into a state of desperation. He kept glancing angrily between Hinata and the volleyball in his hands. He mumbled something under his breath that no one could pick up on, everyone in the gym slowing to a stop to watch as the boy didn’t immediately kick Hinata’s butt. This made Kageyama’s blush spread from his ears over his temples. “What was that?”

“I don’t know how to flirt,” he mumbled, this time a bit more audible. A snort came from behind him, where Yamaguchi and Tsukishima covered their mouths so Ennoshita wouldn’t yell at them.

“Flirt?” Hinata repeated loudly, looking absolutely horrified at the concept. “Who are you trying to flirt with?” This made Kageyama finally react, pouncing on his friend in aggression. Tanaka came walking over to separate them, Nishinoya trailing close behind with his chin held high.

“Obviously, it’s the pretty setter from the girls’ team,” Tanaka announced.

Nishinoya nodded. “It’s so obvious, now listen to the love doctors,” he said, putting his hands together like he was praying and catching Kageyama’s attention. “How have you advanced so far?”

“Well…” Kageyama takes a moment to think, lowering his shoulders. “I told her that her spike serves were great, showed her how to make the set curve and stop, or tried to but she didn’t really get it, and I bought her an extra box of milk when I went to the vending machine,” he listed. The rest of the boys blinked silently at him for a moment. Not exactly romantic, but it could be worse.

Tanaka put an arm over his shoulders. “Have you asked her to go out with you? Marry you?” he suggested as if it was the greatest tip ever. Kinoshita scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“You can’t just do that right away. We could ask someone on the girls’ team if she likes him back first?” he suggested, a bit more shy about romantic advances than his friends.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Ennoshita said, but he looked hesitant. “But there is something sweet about telling her you like her. It seems to me like she likes you too.”

Kageyama looked at his captain with hopeful eyes, clinging on to every word. “It does?”

“Hopeless…” came from Tsukishima along with a sigh.

“Well, what else did you expect,” Hinata added and crossed his arms, narrowly dodging Kageyama’s punch.

Yamaguchi chuckled but engaged nonetheless. “You can ask her to hang out outside of school and club,” he suggested, which was actually the best option presented to him so far. A couple of murmurs went around the room in agreement, and then Ennoshita clapped his hands.

“Let’s get back to practice! If she likes Kageyama, she’ll like whatever he decides to do.”

Kageyama was staring at a message from you with a weird smile and a calculating mind after getting home for the night. You wrote him saying you look forward to the joined practice you had scheduled after school tomorrow. What is he supposed to do? How does he return your energy, as he read in that one article he got through before getting bored of reading?

Ennoshita thinks you like him back. Maybe he should just combine all the tips he got into one. That has to make it a failsafe. As long as he leaves out the marriage part…

He slowly types it out, making sure there are no spelling errors before sending it and finally putting his phone to the side so he can try to sleep.

I like you, will you go out with me? We could do something outside of school and club activities.

Oh boy, did his teammates have a field day with his chosen tactic when he told them about it at morning practice. You hadn’t answered yet, but Kageyama wasn’t too worried about it as it was still early.

The third years looked especially pale, while the second years were mostly laughing.

“You did all of it, how creative!” Narita said in the most positive manner he could manage, making up for the others who were sitting quietly in their guilt over saying anything yesterday and then leaving him to his own defences. “Let us know when she answers.”

Kageyama nodded with a decisive smile, still pretty happy with his solution. Practice commenced and the team mostly forgot about the situation for a few hours until they returned to the locker rooms all sweaty. Kageyama was pulling on his clean shirt when there was a vibration on the bench below him. His phone.

Meanwhile, you had arrived at school half an hour before that, gathering as many of your friends as you could for help. You were practically buzzing with excitement, as Kageyama was the last person you expected to be this forward about such a topic. The girls squealed, and even a teacher hushing you in passing couldn’t calm down your energy levels. You all spent a while deciding on what to answer and then you chose to add the smiley at the end yourself, butterflies in your stomach as you sent the message.

That sounds great, actually :D

Kageyama didn’t even notice most of his team looking over his shoulder with loose jaws as they read your response, as he was too busy freaking out over it himself. “Yamaguchi!” he yelled, yelling again in surprise when he turned around to see the guy standing there already, along with a few of the others who were more shameless in their snooping. “Help.”

It took some work, but you two were finally enjoying your first date, going for ice cream in the sun and getting to know each other more. 

Hinata and Tanana were ready to pretend they had no idea this was where they went for the date in case anyone caught them spying, but were amused to bump into three of the girls from your team as well, who were also trying to find the best spot for watching you without being spotted. Their precious setters, somehow mastering communication when it was with each other. When you got home, you would blame your red cheeks on a sunburn, for sure.

But it was actually from Kageyama awkwardly kissing your cheek before leaving.

You see, Kageyama had texted Sugawara last night for tips, and he told him that if he felt like the date had gone well, he could kiss your cheek before he left.

masterlist

/I imagine Yachi wasn't there when they gave him tips and when Hinata told her everything she got so stressed out on Kageyama's behalf, she's so precious

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

i can't think of a creative title

👽 for finding later because look at him he's a little alien :D

so anyway i (15F) had this girlfriend (16F) a little bit ago. we honestly didn't do much together, even though we're both in high school. never went on a proper date and we never even kissed.

whenever i would try to set up a date or anything, she'd kinda be like "ok." and then never follow up and i wouldn't wanna do it because i have really bad self esteem issues and i didn't want her to stop liking me because i was being too clingy or anything.

we were texting like normal one day and she just sent me this text where she was like "i'm literally so selfish lmaooo i already knew i was gonna break up with you by the end of the school year but here i am still dating you and wanting to kiss you 🤪" and i just stopped texting her right there because. because what? she was literally planning to break up with me and she knew what day she was going to do it and everything? then what was the point of even getting together with me? because she knew i really liked her and still did that.

anyway, we agreed to talk during our free period/study hall at school the day after. i had totally freaked myself out and i was completely prepared to just go and apologize over and over again, even if she was in the wrong, but when i met her, she immediately started talking about how i put her on too much of a pedestal and how my self esteem was too low and how i have a tendency to say "im gonna fucking kill myself" (not in like a serious way or anything but it just became a thing i'd say sometimes, we both knew that i wasn't being serious about hurting myself but i see why that would make her uncomfortable and it's actually a habit i've been trying to stop) and these are actually all pretty valid concerns. i did have a little bit of a tendency to put her on a pedestal because of my previously mentioned terrible self esteem. so we broke up.

but then a little recently, a friend, who i'll call miku texts me and she's talking about how my ex, i'll call her uh... rin? anyway, rin texts miku and rin allegedly said that she thinks that she's more mature than all of our friend group ( we mainly have the same friend group, me and rin are still friends) and miku tells me that (also allegedly) miku wasn't really all that affected at all when we broke up or even when i randomly stopped texting her after that text. so. idk. was i the asshole? i feel bad about ghosting her, that was kinda toxic and abusive and definitely something i shouldn't have done, but it freaked me out.

[lillybearrie]

Guys- guys! I need to talk about this because omfg arararara

Ok so I was watching sherb's most recent hardcore stream, or more accurately got not even a minute in and ran to Tumblr because I have thoughts, and maybe it's because I just binged Icarus's pov post-centross death but the first like 30 seconds or so of the hardcore stream made me realize the difference between someone like hardcore!Sherbert and Icarus.

Icarus is in a deep state of self loathing and needing to grief so so many things so many people they need to process so so much but their own father has convinced them that it's pointless that it's not worth it that they should just focus on other things like helping him in his endeavors and so they don't and instead they bear the weight of this feeling of guilt and dread that they carry it around all day every day and they use it like armor because they don't have much else anymore. They pour all of the doubt they used to have into blind faith in fable's cause because they will not process and they will not grief over the fact that in only the past 4 months they have either indirectly or directly been at fault for 2 of their friends deaths and that their very existence prompted the destruction of so many peoples lives fable caused the resets for them to save their life fable destroyed reality over and over and over until the universe was delt what is likely irreparable damage all for them and honesty we really don't talk enough about the guilt they must carry for that. Icarus wakes up and even if it's been a few weeks is immediately so so tired the weight of everything going on in their life waking up with them waking up with the voices that constantly tell them what they already know the voices the yell and scream that their wrong that their hurting people again that their acting corrupted The voices that never shut up day in and day out. And they stretch because sometimes keeping a routine in times like this is key to keeping sane and yk stretching is just generally a good habit. Their alone except for the emotionally distant basterd of a previously immortal man that dares call himself a father ( we're not gonna talk about how the stuff he instilled in ick when they were little influenced a large part of how the corruption presented itself in them during season 1 because this is not that post but if it was I would have so many words you don't even know) life right now is one big distraction and when it's not they either have a break down or they're chasing the next distraction and you can see that when they wake up because you get 2 kinds of Icarus in the morning angry Icarus who will take it out on quixis or us because they need that emotional release and we're easy targets or planning Icarus who is only thinking about what they need to do today they do mindless chores or talk with co-workers or are figuring out how to complete task fable asks of them.

Hardcore!Sherbert on the other hand is for better or worse alone completely and utterly aside from the things their's not a single actual person in their life. they farm they build they vibe and weird shit happens around them sometimes and they hear voices, they wake up and look forward to the next day even when they've been asleep for months they look in the bright side "not a bad thing tho it's important to get your sleep" they are so... free in comparison with Icarus and you can hear it in the way they talk its lighter you can see it in they way they move it made me realize how little Icarus actually truly smiles nowadays hardcore!sherbert has their fair share of struggles don't get me wrong but at they end of the day they're happy they enjoy life for the most part.

And Sherb does such a good Job acting out this fundamental difference between these two variations of the same guy. I go ababababa it think it's neattt anyway go appreciate Sherbertquake56's phenomenal acting after this long ass post psychoanalizing they way their minecraft characters wake up which is a total sane and normal thing to make a Tumblr post about at 4 am mhm

[tac-the-unseen]

Jeepers Creepers x Reader

Fluff and angst, minor edits for formatting.

CW: Car crash, blood, Gore, ambulance, broken glass, bad friends :(

It purred at you.

It fucking purred at you.

Days ago, while on a long road trip with your close friends, you made a stop at a diner. It was just supposed to be a quick pit stop to get gas and a quick meal at around 4:30 pm.

You remember getting a salad because you weren't as hungry. You remember your best friend Sammy ordering the most food out of everyone in the group. You remember splitting the bill anyway because Sammy has been your dearest friend for years.

Then there was a phone ringing. It was across the room, just barely tucked away from view. An older blonde waitress answered the phone with an obviously rehearsed semi-cheerful greeting. Her fake smile quickly turned into a confused frown. She turned towards the diner half full of people and then turned back around. Everyone in the diner paused, trying to listen to the waitress speak.

“Who?” She asked the person on the other side quietly. She pulled the phone away from her ear and turned around to face the people. “Is there anyone named (y/n) in the building?” She asked out to the other patrons.

All your friends turn to look at you. You give them a confused look then raised your hand while trying to shimmy out of the booth. The waitress waved you over and you quickly and quietly made your way over to the phone. She handed you the phone and walked away and back behind the counter to check on and run some food.

You took a breath “Hello?” You asked softly. A woman answered back, “(Y/n) (L/n) is that you?” She said it in such a hurried tone you almost couldn't make out what she said. “Hello, who is this?” You asked again. The woman answers back almost immediately “(y/n), you're traveling with your friends in a brown and blue SUV, right? You ordered a salad with extra dressing?”

You freeze. Your eyes widen in horror. You turn around to look out onto the diner floor. “this is a joke right?” You muttered weakly at the lady on the other side of the phone. “Have you seen the truck yet? What about the crows?” She questioned frantically. “Did you see it? Did you see it's house?” She said, almost pleading.

“No I-” you started, but she cut you off quickly. “Now you listen to me. If you see a flock of crows, run. Run faster than you've ever ran before.” The woman commanded. You had a feeling that if you were face to face with the woman, she'd be spitting when she talked. Before you could answer back the phone was ripped out of your hands by someone.

You looked up at the person and quickly released who it was. It's one of the guys you're traveling with, Jeremy. Jeremy isn't really your friend, but he's Sammy’s friend so he tagged along. He starts to talk to the woman on the phone but quickly gets frustrated. Jeremy shoves you out of the way and begins to yell at the woman. He slams the phone back onto the receiver and turns to you. “who the fuck was that?” he asked. “I don't know, but she knew my name and our car.”

He lets out a frustrated sigh and takes a breath. “She knew my name too. Said it like she knew me all my life.” he looks over at the group and then back to you. “we got to leave, and soon.” you and Jeremy make it back to the booth and silently decide not to tell the others about the odd call. When Sammy asked you just told them it was your ex who found out where you guys were from another mutual friend. Sammy seemed skeptical but accepted the explanation.

When everyone was ready you made it outside to pile back into the SUV. You guys make it back to the road and try to bring the cheer back into the night. The car radio was broken so you, using your foresight, brought your portable radio. You also brought a backpack full of CDs. You pop in a CD the group voted on and slowly you all start singing to the music.

After a few minutes the vibe in the car is restored. Jeremy, who was driving the car, was dancing a little bit but still being a diligent driver. Abby was in the passenger seat, she didn't talk much but she seemed to be having fun anyway. Sam and Joey in the middle row, both talking about something you didn't care to listen to. And you in the back, the car's personal DJ. You lean forward to reach the middle seat and Joey turns to look at you.

“Spare some Scooby-Doo gummies, Sir?” You ask and a fake Victorian poor boy accent. Joey chuckles and turns to dig into a bag just out of your sight. Sam turns quickly to look at you “You JUST ate!” They accuse. Rolling your eyes you catch a glimpse into the front car mirror. Your eyes widened and you quickly turned around. A big rusted teal truck is only 45 feet away from the SUV. “Is that a fucking armored truck?” Joey sputters out.

“What?” Jeremy inquires, Not taking his eyes off the road quite yet. “God damn it, I can't see the rear view mirror through your fat fucking skull!” Jeremy snaps. Both you and Joey move out of the way only to quickly hear a “Shit” come from the front seat. Jeremy slowly accelerated the van, but skillfully maintained control. Abby turns to look, her eyes widen in horror. “It's speeding up!” She sputtered out.

The truck speeds up and before anyone can react, it rams into the back of the SUV. The car lurches forward and Abby slams her head onto the dashboard. Hard. If not for your seatbelt you would have launched into the middle seats. You shift back into your seat automatically, and decide to cover your neck and head. When you lean forward to cover your face the truck rams into the van again and glass is sent flying into the car. You feel the glass break against your back. The force of the push sends you forward only to shove you backwards into your seat. The force sends the glass deeper into your skin. Little razor like cuts slices against your shoulders and back. The wounds feel hot and angry against the spring winds, you lift your head to look at the damage of your friends. You quickly realize Abby and Sam are screaming in terror, and Joey is begging Jeremy to drive faster.

Jeremy presses his foot to the gas, but it doesn't matter, the truck is faster. Amongst the chaos you can hear the growls of the truck, it pulls to the left of the van and speeds up. “Fuck fuck fuckfuck-” Jeremy curses before the truck slams into the side of the van. Abby and Sam scream louder, and you can see tears roll down Abby’s cheeks.

Finally Jeremy slams on the break and lets the truck blaze past us. The truck doesn't stop and keeps driving up and over past the hill. Suddenly all there is is screaming, crying, and hard breathing. You remember seeing Joey cover his face with his hands to silently cry.

With the adrenaline slowly leaving your body the pain in your back properly sets in. Your hands slowly reach up your hand to touch your back, and come back with blood. You're not bleeding profusely, but it's enough to raise alarm. Jeremy looks back to his passengers while comforting Abby. “Is everybody okay?” He asks, You raise your bloody hand and his eyes go wide. He rips off his seatbelt and climbs over the center console, past the middle seats to get to you. He looks you over and looks at your back.

The group decides to turn around to get you help. The ride lasts only 20 minutes. You remember 20 minutes of hunching over while Sam and Joey pick the big pieces of glass out of your skin. 20 minutes of biting down on your arm, But eventually you get back to the diner. Jeremy gets out of the SUV, slams the car door, and bolts inside. Abby continues to cry in the front seat while Sam comforts you, and Joey comforts Abby.

Eventually Jeremy and other diner patrons come back out to the SUV. You remember the new quiver in Jeremy's voice when he told you and the group that he had called the police and that the nearest ambulance would take almost a half an hour to arrive. That's what an older woman says that she is a retired registered nurse and that she could assess the damage while we wait.

With almost everybody's permission she enters the SUV and starts to attend to your back. You don't quite remember what she said but she was very chatty. You do remember how she praised Sam and Joey for removing the glass, well she tends to your wounds she tries in vain to make conversation with you. You do remember telling her that if you weren't so exhausted you would chat back with her, she gracefully accepted that answer.

When she's done with your more serious injuries she moves on to tend to Abby. She says something about a concussion Abby's eye bleeding being from a popped blood vessel in the eye. What you really remember from the situation is Jeremy crawling into the back seat to hold your hand while you silently cry and pain. Finally in the distance everyone can hear sirens.

He watches everyone collectively breathes the style of relief as a police car and two ambulances roll up. The paramedics nearly jump out of their vehicle and rush over to the van to collect you and Abby. You remember Jeremy getting out of the van while three paramedics gently slide you out of the back seat and put you on to a stretcher. They lay you on your stomach and pull up your shirt, They started asking you a bunch of questions. Your name, your date of birth, where you live, and what happened. They wheel you into the back of the ambulance to assemble their equipment and fix you up.

“It doesn't seem like you need to go to the hospital” One of them says while picking out small pieces of glass from your lower back. “We could probably dig out the rest of the smaller chunks of glass and send you on your way.” Another paramedic tells you that you're lucky the damage isn't worse. And how the only reason the damage is this bad is because your back slammed back into the seat digging the glass deeper. “Don't know what deity liked you, but as far as I can tell most of the glass in your back is pretty big.” He pauses “which yes, is a good thing. It'd be hard digging out really small pieces of glass.”

You quickly tune them out, Not caring about their rambles it seemed to mostly be for themselves. It takes them a little bit but finally they start spraying your back and shoulders with disinfectant, and petroleum jelly before they start wrapping you all back together. “We don't think there's any need for stitches either.” The only female paramedic told you. “It should heal up beautifully, but we still recommend you see a doctor when you make it to wherever you're going.”

They call over Sam and tell them the good news. Sam helps you stand up, something you immediately regret. You let out a sharp hiss followed by a groan.

Eventually the cops question you but with everybody else already being questioned you hardly have anything to add. They thank you anyway and leave for their respective vehicles. By the time the cops and paramedics are gone it's closer to 7:00 p.m.

One of the older patrons who was still there invites you guys all back into the diner so he can buy you all dinner. He specified that he doesn't have much so not to go crazy but he can at least spare a couple dollars for a meal.

Everyone thanks him, declines his offer of payment, but head back to the diner anyway. You walk stiffly back into the diner and instead of sliding back into a booth you make it to the bar stools and sit down.

It's around 8:30 when someone runs into the diner and shouts about an SUV being seemingly broken into. You twist around on your bar stool as Jeremy and Joey run out the front door to investigate.

When they come back they explain to you, Sam, and Abby that the car had in fact been broken into but that it looks like nothing had been stolen. But they both say that the weird thing that's different is that everybody's clothes had been thrown around. Joey calls the cops this time.

It's nearing 10 when a police cruiser pulls up to investigate. You don't know anything about the situation as you can hardly sit up straight and there was no way in hell you were standing up and waddling outside. So you stayed inside the diner sipping on a milkshake. It's by this point in the night you're begging to just go home.

You actually end up falling asleep on the countertop. You're woken up by Sam and Abby telling you it's time to go. Sam helps you stand up and holds onto you and Abby as you make it out of the diner. Looking at the van you see that somebody has taped clear plastic wrap crudely to the back of the car where the rear window would be. You also now fully see how dented the back of the car is. You're reminded of how easily the glass shattered when the truck drove into you guys. When you walk up to the car Jeremy and Joey are sitting in the front seats discussing something but abruptly stop when you guys arrive. You collectively decide that Sam and Abby will get the middle row and you'll get the back seat again this time laying on your stomach for the duration of the drive.

Joey tells you that day swept off all the glass from the back seat so you weren't lying in it. “How thoughtful” New grumbled out, remember thinking to yourself about mediocrity and the bare minimum but you don't dwell on it. You pull your backpack full of CDs and portable radio down to the floor, within arms reach, and pop a new CD in.

This time the drive is different. It's quiet. Nobody speaks. The only audible noise being the CD player and the wind whipping around the plastic rear view window. You end up falling asleep again. You're woken up to the feeling of being jolted. When your eyes open it's met with the dark, You realize it's pitch black outside. Jeremy turns around to look at everybody in the back and apologizes for slamming on his brakes. “Deer” He just said apologetically.

As you awake and more and more you notice that from where you're laying you can see trees out of the window and a dark blue sky. Your attempt to sleep is thwarted by the sound of screeching crows. As you mentally grumbled to yourself you remember the shocking horrified feeling of recalling that mysterious phone call earlier of the day.

She had told you to watch out for a truck. She had told you to run it like hell when the crows called. She told you that you'd see a house. You panic and try to sit up as fast as you can but immediately hissed in pain. “Where are we?” You ask desperately. “Still in bumfuck nowhere.” Sam replies “did we pass a house?” You asking a scared voice. Sam turns around to look at you, she gives you an odd look. “No, just trees and fields of wheat.” They said back confused.

While you guys are talking Jeremy slams on his brakes again. “WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?” Joey screeches in horror. “FUCK IF I KNOW!” Replied Jeremy. “What? What's happening?” You desperately plea. as Sam looks at whatever is in front of the car They look back at you “some kind of man looking lizard person???” They say in horrified confusion. You try to sit up again but wail in pain. Before you know it Jeremy has put the car in reverse and is speeding in the opposite direction. Everyone let's add a horrified scream as Abby cries “it can fucking fly!?”

Your imagination runs wild as you're unable to see the creature they're referring to. You can only let out a Sob when something lands on your car. The dent in the roof is in the shape of a v. You too start screaming when a boot swiftly kicks in the front windshield. Jeremy tries to drive erratically to shake the thing off but nothing works, eventually, somehow, the car flips over and sends everybody screaming.

You're jolted from your seat and hit the ceiling of the van with a thud. You scream and pain as you land on your back this time with more glass than ever. This coupled with the acute head trauma causes your vision to blur. It feels like your head is buzzing and a ringing is left in your ears. You still managed to flip yourself over while crying and pain. You hear another thud and another and two more. You see Sam and Abby crawling their way to the side doors. And when you look up to see Jeremy and Joey their doors are already wide open. You're left with a revelation that you're the only one left in the car and that it's your job to get yourself out.

With the most pain you've ever been in, You crawl to where the middle seats should be, and pull yourself up and out of the door. You crawl onto the asphalt and shakily tried to stand up. You sob harder as you make it to your knees and then onto your feet. You hear screaming and shouting and pleading from the distance. Finally someone grabs hold of you and pulls you aside. You look up, and through tears you see Sam.

Sam pulls you into their arms well screaming words that didn't make sense to you. Your head stops shaking and the ringing in your ears dies down. finally you hear the words “WHAT DO YOU WANT!?” Being screamed out by a voice you assume is Abby's. Suddenly everything goes quiet, No sound other than breathing and Sam's heartbeat can be heard. “Is that all you what?” Sam asks, “IS THAT IT?” You can hear the desperation in their tone. “Will you leave us alone?” They ask In a softer tone yet with somehow more desperation. You have no idea what happens or why it happens but suddenly you're shoved back to the floor You just fought to stand up on.

“You can have them.” Sam says “just flip our van back over and they're all yours!” realization finally dawns on you. You're being sacrificed to this creature. Your best friend literally pushed you aside with a promise of making it out of this situation alive. You look up and see the beast grabbing the van and turning it over back onto its wheels with inhuman strength. You let out another wail as you truly realize the deal your friends just made.

You watch as the people you thought were your friends walk over to their van and get back in. You watch Joey crawl into the backseat, and Jeremy with a severely broken leg make it to the middle seat. Sam and Abby take the front seats. You get to watch as Sam makes sure the car can still drive properly, and within seconds they're speeding away. All that's left as a trail of smoke, as the rubber burns on the asphalt.

You see the beast walk over to you, The pounding in your head doesn't cease. You see the thing’s boots coming closer. You can't lift your head to look it in the eyes, but at the same time you're relieved by that. Suddenly your body is lifted and you feel weightless. You try to wiggle around but it holds you closer. While you move in it's arms you feel it's skin. It's sharp and scraps you up decently. So now left with another horrifying revelation, that's not what a human’s skin should feel like. You begin to cry harder.

When you're finally back on the ground you see an old house and the giant armored truck that harassed you earlier. You had stopped crying a little bit ago, figuring that if It was going to kill you, It would have already killed you. You're still uncontrollably shaking like a leaf, but you feel like you can hardly blame yourself. The creature starts walking and eventually it opens the door to the house.

It closes the door behind you guys, you get to quickly look at your surroundings. It's just an old dusty house decorated like a Grandma on LSD got her hold onto it. The thought slightly amuses you but you're quickly sucked back into reality when the creature carries you up the stairs and into a room you can only guess is a bedroom.

Finally after God knows how long, the creature gently sets you down on a mattress piled with dirty clothes, pillows, and blankets. The piles down seem to be random either, it all looks meticulously placed around the bed making what looked like a human version of a bird's nest would look like. The thought snaps in your skull. Nest. You're in the things Nest.

For the first time ever you look at the creature in its shockingly human eyes. It has dark green leathery skin, with what looked like insect mandibles on either side of its face. You lean away from the horrifying monster, but it slowly leans towards you. You can tell by its eyes it's not trying to be intimidating but you don't think there's any possible way it couldn't be.

But you're proven wrong.

It purred at you

It fucking purred at you

Like a cat but much deeper. The creature lowers its head towards you and slowly kneels in front of the nest. It purrs again while closing its eyes. It's clearly trying it’s best not to frighten you anymore, but not sure what to do, you just freeze in place. It slowly lays its head in your lap and continues to purr for you. You can feel its chest against your legs, you can feel the vibrations through your legs and on your thighs. It's oddly soothing, frighteningly so.

You don't know why this creature is being so soft with you, but you choose not to question it too hard. You reason that it is better than being slaughtered, so it's best to just let the creature do its thing. After a few minutes it slowly gets off of you but continues to gently purr at you. It stands up and reaches its clawed fingers out to softly grasp your hand. It leans down and kisses your knuckles before getting back up and leaving the room.

You finally fully lay down in the Nest and sigh. “Better than being eaten.” You say softly and frustratedly rub your eyes. “Better than being eaten.”

Thanks for reading <3

Sorry for poor quality. It's one of those fics where I had written for days and eventually just got so sick of writing it I had to post it.

[clementine-writes-things]

"Run Rabbit, Run!" pt.2 - E.N

Summary: After getting sent to Arkham, Edward requests to see Y/n Wayne. The visit is not what y/n expected at all...(this might not be entirely consistent with the first part, but just ignore those parts pls. I have exams soon so I'm balancing writing and college and running on like 5 hours of sleep each day 😭 I'm still rlly proud of this tho <3 I hope u like it)

Pt.1 here pt.3 here

Content Warning: 18+, explicit language, AFAB!Reader, she/her pronouns, egotistical!Edward, stalker!Edward, yandere!Edward, brief mention of suicide, mentions of rough sex, EXTREMELY graphic descriptions of sexual intercourse, sexual content, dirty talk, daddy issues, daddy kink, praising, degrading, choking, slapping, edward referring to himself as a fox and y/n a rabbit, mentions of blood, mentions of murder, mentions of guns, mentions of torture. (Edward is a freak in this. This is kinda like joker/harley dynamic except there is no abuse, it's just that Edward is so fucking charming that y/n is OBSESSED with him.)

Word Count: 7k+

Songs For Inspo:

YOU'RE TOO SLOW (Bonus) - Odetari

Freak Show - Punkinloveee, h3artcrush

I LOVE YOU HOE (W/ 9lives) -Odetari

She' So Nice - Pink Guy

Custer - Slipknot

~Read Below Cut~

Y/n sat on her bed, head in her hands as she wept. Bruce put a hand on her back, rubbing comforting circles. It was a huge blow to her gut. She had fallen in love with Edward over the months they had been friends. The two of them had gotten so close. And now, she had found out that he was The Riddler. The real humiliating part? It was right under her nose. Though she had suspicions, she never wanted to believe them, so she ignored every red flag she saw.

"I'm really sorry." Bruce said.

"Bruce, is it bad that I still care about him?" She asked, tears forming in her eyes.

He sighed.

"No, I don't think so. He was your friend."

She nodded, wiping away the tears that spilled down her cheeks. Bruce frowned, pulling her in for a hug. After the whole incident happened, Bruce immediately went to y/n's apartment, outside of his armor of course. He knew she lived nearby and he wanted to make sure his sister was ok. Y/n had told him about the man she met in a bookstore, and from what she had shared with him, he was a good person. But, he should know better than anyone how easily one can hide their true self.

"I'm surprised he didn't try and hurt you. You're a Wayne and it seems like he has a grudge against our family."

"He has every right to hold a grudge against us!"

Bruce pulled away from the hug, confusion on his face. Y/n sighed, standing up and going to her nightstand. She opened it up and pulled out a file. Tossing it to Bruce, she crossed her arms over her chest. Inside was pictures of the old orphanage that was once Wayne Manor. Pictures of the living conditions, children, and even Edward were in there. Y/n had done some serious digging to get this information, though, it was easy if you were a Wayne of course.

"He lived in the orphanage, Bruce. His entire life. Our dad offered him a better life, told him that he could work for W.I."

"He did?" He asked, looking through the pictures.

"Yes, he did. Edward, he applied so many times to the Renewal project. But...dad and mom..." She trailed.

Bruce looked up at her, feeling his heart sink.

"...well, you and I were too young to take charge of anything. So, he was left to rot in that prison. He told me about the things he experienced there, Bruce. It haunts me that Wayne Enterprises let children suffer. We could have easily helped those poor children." She sniffled, holding back tears.

"Jesus."

"You think we're sad orphans, Bruce? Look at those pictures. Look at how they lived..."

He did. He saw all of it. The rats. The horrible beds that they had to sleep in, if they even could. Bruce felt cold just looking at the pictures. He winced as he saw one picture of a child, bite marks on their hands and fingers.

"When I was older, I found out about this. That's why I live out here, Bruce. I want to live like everyone else does. I donate to the orphanages, I do check ups to make sure everything is good, I donate to hospitals, I do volunteering. But, it was Edward who showed me how truly terrible this city is. Yes, he murdered people...but they were bad people Bruce. You know this. That's why he didn't go after me..."

"It sounds like you're defending his actions..." He raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not! I'm just...he's not a bad person, Bruce. Sick in the head, sure. I'm just worried about him..." She mumbled.

"Y/n, he murdered people."

"And you go around beating people up in a bat costume! Maybe you belong in Arkham too." She spat.

"I don't kill people."

"Well, maybe if you did this city would be safer!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I-..I don't know. I'm sorry. I'm just shaken up. Frankly, I could give a shit about the people he killed, they were all scum. I'm just worried about Edward."

"Well, he's in Arkham, he's safe there. He can't hurt anyone and he can't hurt himself."

"I guess...not the most humane place though."

Y/n's phone rang, making both of them fall silent. Who could be calling this late at night? It had been an hour since Edward was apprehended, making it 1 A.M. She looked at Bruce before answering the phone.

"This is Y/n Wayne, who is this?"

'Ms. Wayne, this is Cap-...Commissioner Gordon.'

"Commissioner Gordon! Um, what's the matter?"

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

'It's 'The Riddler'. He's asked to see you in Arkham.'

"Oh, um...ok, I'll be there."

Y/n hung up the phone.

"It's Edward. He's requested to see me..."

"And you're going?" He asked.

"Well, of course I am. I need an explanation, some closure. He's still my friend, Bruce."

He sighed.

"I'm surprised he hasn't asked to see me. He seemed so obsessed with gaining my attention. Um, you're not going to tell him that I'm..."

"No, Bruce. I'm not an idiot. Can you drive me to Arkham, please? It'd be nice to have you there."

"Yeah, that's ok..."

~

When the Wayne siblings arrived, everyone practically worshipped them. Offering to open doors, constantly saying 'Ms. Wayne' and 'Mr. Wayne'. It annoyed the both of them a lot, though Bruce was the one who could hide the annoyance. Y/n, however, could not. Yes, she loved her family, but she didn't want to be seen as simply 'the Wayne daughter'. It put her on a high pedestal that she hated being on.

"Fuck, there he is." She mumbled, looking at him through the one way window.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes. Um, I know there is camera in the room, but do they pick up audio too? I'd prefer for our conversation to be private."

Bruce looked at the security officer.

"Oh, um, no ma'am they do not pick up sound. They only serve as surveillance to make sure an inmate doesn't try and do something they shouldn't. Sometimes we hold therapy sessions in here too, so, legally we can't record sound."

"Ok, thank you. Alright, I'm going in."

"I love you, little sis."

"I love you too, big brother."

Y/n took a deep breath as she opened the door. Edward's gaze landed on her immediately, causing her to feel small. Yes, y/n had always been slightly intimidated by Edward, but even more so now. He did not look like a person who was capable of violence, and yet he murdered multiple people. It was startling. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she sat down in the chair on the other side of the glass.

"Mmm, I knew you'd come..." He hummed.

"You're still my friend, Edward. I care about you."

He chuckled, deciding he'd circle back to that topic later. Tilting his head to the side, he raised his hands up slowly so the guard didn't get jumpy. Edward pointed at the thing in their hands.

"What's that?" He asked.

Y/n opened up the slot underneath the glass. She slid the item into the box, closing the lid. It fell to Edward's side, and he picked it up. A small smile formed on his lips. It was y/n's copy of 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'. Y/n watched as he flipped through the pages, immediately feeling himself grow warm with happiness.

"I was going to bring you a blanket, but they said that it was a safety hazard. They said you could hang yourself with it." She grumbled.

"Well, this is still a nice present."

It fell silent in the visiting room. The only sound was the flipping of the pages as Edward skimmed through the book. He looked so nonchalant, as if he didn't just snipe Falcone less than 2 hours ago. Though, to be fair, his death wasn't that distressing. Y/n was just startled by how calm he was, especially with where he was.

"Edward, why did you call me here?"

"Hm, I'm not entirely sure...I suppose I just wanted to see my 'friend' again." He smiled innocently.

Y/n huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Edward smirked, humming to himself like he usually did. His fingers rapped against the book, creating small tap sounds. Eventually, y/n just rolled her eyes.

"Look, if you aren't going to talk to me then I'll just go."

"Oh, you will? Ok then, go ahead."

Y/n looked at him, cheeks tinted slightly pink. He had that smug grin on his face, y/n had seen it a lot. Edward had that look when he won a game they were playing or if he stumped y/n on a riddle. But, this time it was more sinister. It sent chills down her spine and she stayed put in the chair. Edward chuckled, nodding his head slowly. He didn't have to say anything, they both knew he called her out on her bluff. Sighing, he looked at her with kind eyes, but his tone of voice was the complete opposite. He was so good at pretending to be something he was not.

"Y/n Wayne, you knew who I was for a while. Why didn't you say anything?" He questioned.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about, Edward."

"Hm, so you never saw the mask in my pocket that one night? You never saw the tiny dots of blood on my face ? The riddles never raised a red flag?" He asked, continuing to flip through the book.

Y/n was silent, looking down at her hands shamefully. Edward tutted, shaking his head. Coolly, he read a small part of the page he was on before looking back up at y/n. She nodded, admitting that she saw them all.

"Uh huh, so why didn't you say anything? I'm dying to know the answer..."

"I-It was because you were my...friend, Edward. I was conflicted."

He kept his face neutral as he looked at her.

"Mmm, there's that word again. Friend. I know you're lying about your answer, so I'll make a deal with you. I'll tell you a secret I've been keeping for a while, and you in return will give me an honest answer. Sound fair?" He asked.

Before she could answer, he started to talk again.

"I've been stalking you for months, y/n. Long before I 'met' you in that bookstore. Did you know that?" He giggled.

"What?"

"Did you really think I just happened to show up in your favorite bookstore? That I just happened to live directly across from you? I know everything about you, y/n. I've been watching you. Studying you. Like a predator stalks their prey."

"You're fucking with me, Edward. That's not funny." She scolded.

"Oh, I don't think it's funny either. I'm being very serious, y/n. Now, why don't you tell me the truth about why you never ratted me out?"

"What the fuck..." She mumbled.

"Well? I'm waiting for an answer."

She was taken aback by his secret, but it made sense the more she thought about it. Of course he had stalked her. She was just too fucking stupid to see it. The thought of Edward stalking her for months before they met scared the shit out of her. But, at the same time, it excited her.

"Y-You're a creep! I trusted you! I lov-..." She trailed.

"Aha, there's the answer I was looking for! Go on, say it." He cackled.

She sighed, looking at her hands again.

"I loved you, Edward. That's why I never said anything."

"Loved? Oh no, you still love me y/n. I know you do. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here."

"I do not love you! You're a psycho, a creep, and a murderer!" She spat.

"You knew all of those things before, yet you still were 'friends' with me. Isn't that right?" Edward smirked.

"W-"

"And don't act like you hate the idea of me stalking you. I know who you are, y/n. You're so easy to read."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about..."

Edward sighed in annoyance, propping his forearms up on the metal ledge. He maintained his neutral facial expression as he looked at her. Y/n felt small under his gaze and he knew it. He knew he had power over her. He always would.

"Tell me, doesn't the thought of me watching you from my apartment excite you? Waiting all night for even the tiniest glimpse of you? I know how much you crave attention from others." Edward suavely said.

"I-I mean..."

"Oh, precious Y/n never got the attention she so desperately wanted growing up. No mommy and daddy to tell her 'I'm so proud of you, sweet girl!'. Isn't that right, rabbit?" He cooed.

Y/n felt a chill go down her spine. He was right. Fuck, he was good at reading people. Sniffling, y/n nodded her head. How the hell was he doing this to her?

"Oh, the poor thing. You have such a kind heart, always giving and giving and giving. When has anyone ever given you anything in return? When was the last time someone praised you?" He asked.

Y/n reached up, wiping a tear from her eye quickly.

"S-So long..."

"That just won't do, will it? No, I don't think it will."

She looked at him, lips quivering.

"You know who is proud of you? Eddie."

He watched as she smiled softly. Edward loved seeing her smile so much. If he could just capture a picture of it and keep it, he was sure he would never feel sadness ever again.

"Y-You are?" She sniffled.

"Of course I am, sweetheart. You make me so proud. There are so many things you're good at that deserve praise. Your art, your constant donations to charity, your kind heart, my oh my the list goes on!" He chuckled.

Y/n was blushing like a school girl. To be completely honest, she didn't care that Edward had stalked her. Sure, it was a little jarring, but he was the first person to show her genuine love in a long time. Y/n was head over heels for him and there was nothing she could do about it. The heart wants what it wants after all.

"Oh, there's that beautiful smile. Such a pretty girl. But, y/n, I do have one thing I'm not proud of at all."

"W-What dad-...Edward?"

He smiled to himself at her near 'slip up'. If she had called him it, he wouldn't have minded at all. Actually, he would have loved it...

"You see, you lie to me a lot. You think I never notice, but I do."

"I-I'm sorry..."

"Do not apologize, y/n. All will be forgiven if you just tell me the truth about one thing."

"O-Ok!"

"That's my girl, now, the 'bad dream' you had earlier. I believe you didn't tell me the full story. Why don't you tell Eddie alllll about it?" He grinned.

"O-Oh...um, I-..." She trailed.

"You can tell me anything, rabbit. I'll keep it as a secret."

Swallowing a lump in her throat, she nodded softly. Edward kept his gaze on her. It was a good thing that the cameras didn't record audio, because he knew what was coming. Yes, he already knew what the dream centered around, but he wanted to hear her say it. He wanted to hear the filthy words leave her mouth.

"W-Well, I was honest about dreaming that you were the Riddler..."

"And you were right! You're so smart." He praised.

Y/n should have felt disgusted at how light hearted he was, but she wasn't. It was upsetting how in love she was with him. She was y/n Wayne and she was in love with The Riddler. But, the shame behind that brought excitement. It was a secret between the two of them, a forbidden love. Just like Romeo & Juliet.

"...but you um, you were frightening. A-And, I um...liked it." She mumbled.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Can you elaborate?"

"I th-thought it was hot...that you um, were making me scared. Um, you were being really um...rough." She stuttered.

Edward felt his dick slowly getting hard. He cursed the glass in his head and the cameras. If he could he'd reach right across and give y/n something to dream about for years to come. Groaning softly, he nodded his head. He wasn't going to be vague anymore. He was going to be blunt.

"Did I fuck you?"

"I-..no. I w-woke up before anything like that happened." She admitted.

"Mmm, so you got all worked up over a dream I didn't even fuck you in? You must have really loved what I was saying and doing in it, huh?" He teased.

"Yeah. I-I did."

"You say we're friends, y/n. But, do friends say they love each other in a romantic way? Do friends have wet dreams about each other?" He asked.

"N-No, they don't..."

"That's right. Mmm, I've had dreams of you too, rabbit. Filthy, filthy, dreams." Edward shivered.

Y/n shifted in her seat, arousal soaking through her panties. Edward could tell she was turned on. She couldn't keep still, thighs subtly rubbing together. He tutted and shook his head.

"Now, now, you better stop that. You don't want to get caught, do you? How embarrassing would that be to have your brother find out that The Riddler was making your pussy wet? I'd be mortified if I were you." He taunted.

She whimpered, ceasing the movement of her legs. Edward could see how much willpower it was taking her not to do it. Amused, he smiled and tilted his head. He was going to torment her, tease her until she was merely a puddle on the chair.

"Ever since I first saw you, I was fascinated. That fascination turned into love. And with most love, comes lust. And oh, my sweet rabbit, I have never wanted someone as badly as I want you."

"R-Really?"

"Believe me when I say that I want to ruin you, y/n."

Y/n whined, resisting the urge to dive her hands down her pants. Edward scoffed, resting his hands back in his lap. He grabbed his dick through his pants, adjusting it.

"I have much more to say, y/n. I suggest you do your best to keep your face neutral. But you can moan, just quietly. I would very much love to hear you moan. I've wondered what it might sound like."

She nodded, gaining her composure as much as she could. Sighing, Edward looked towards the ceiling. It looked as if he was collecting his thoughts. Y/n nearly trembled in anticipation.

"I've had so many dreams of you. Some of them are sweet. Those ones consist of us going on dates, maybe a park or a movie." He said.

"That sounds nice."

"It does, doesn't it?" He smiled.

"But the other ones, ohhh, they are filthy. They are so vulgar that I'm not sure I should let them fall upon your ears." He hummed playfully.

"N-No, I want to hear! Please daddy!" She blurted out, covering her mouth with her hand.

He smiled gently, his dick twitching underneath his pants. A soft groan left his lips. Edward was wishing a painful death the the guard watching their visit. He wished for the cameras to power down and for the glass to disappear.

"You sound just like you do in my dreams. I can't say no to how pathetic that sounded."

Y/n blushed, rubbing her thigh with her hand. It was out of view of the cameras and the window, so Edward allowed it.

"I've had dreams where you're on your knees, begging for me. You always look so desperate and needy every time. It's such a pitiful sight that I can't help but give you what you want. Do you know what you want in those dreams?" He asked flatly.

"W-What, da-" She paused.

"Oh rabbit, you can call me that if you'd like. It sounds so good rolling of your tongue..." Edward smirked.

"Ok, daddy...um, what do I want in your dreams?"

Leaning forward, he got closer to the glass. A cocky, toothy smile plastered over his face. His eyes were bright and happy, as if he was about to tell her a funny joke. Raising up his hands, slowly, he made a very subtle 'jerking' motion.

"To get fucked like a whore, obviously." He laughed.

Y/n whimpered. Her chest was tightening from how aroused she was. She took a deep breath, letting it out through pursed lips. Edward grinned, seeing how worked up he was making her.

"Oh, but you're not a whore. No, far from it. In my dreams I may fuck you like one, but you don't act like one. Once I'm done giving you a good dick down, you get so clingy. You're so dependent on me, never wanting to leave my side. It's so precious. I only hope that you're like that outside of my dreams too." He cooed.

"Y-Yes, I am! I-I'm here, after all. I missed you..."

"Oh, that's so sweet. I shoot and kill Carmine Falcone and the first thing you think of is 'I want Edward! Where's Eddie? I miss him so much!'. Is that right?"

"Well, not exactly."

"Hm?"

"I cried first..."

Edward felt a pang in his chest. It genuinely hurt his heart to hear her say that. He never wanted to make her cry, unless it was from pleasure.

"You poor thing, I never though about how you'd feel. I never wanted to make you cry, I just wanted to get rid of the scum that pollutes Gotham." He frowned.

"I know, I may not agree with the murdering...but I'm not saying I miss Falcone either. It just scared me. I was just worried about what would happen to you..."

"You were worried about me, rabbit? You don't need to do that. I can take care of myself, y/n." He smiled.

She nodded. Edward could tell that she felt sad. He did not want her to be sad, not at all.

"You know I love you, y/n. Right?" He asked.

"Y-Yes, I do."

"I did it all for you. I had different plans for Gotham before. I was going to do something far worse, but you made me change my mind. I just want you to live in a city where you can be safe."

Y/n smiled. It was a messed up way to show he loved and cared for her, but she hadn't been loved before. She didn't care anymore, she just was warmed that he wanted her to be safe. Even if he did it through murdering crooked and corrupt people. She blushed, looking down at her hands.

"No, no, don't hide your face. I want to see it." He asked softly.

She looked back up, faint pink dusted on the tip of her nose and her cheeks. Edward loved that about her so much. He thought it made her look so happy and gentle. He chuckled, clapping his hands together as much as he could with the handcuffs on.

"There she is, the prettiest thing in Gotham." He smiled.

"You're making me blush, Edward..." She mumbled.

"I know and I love it. I love watching you get flustered, it's so precious. If only I could touch you..." He sighed.

"Why do you want to touch me?" She asked.

"Well, I want to hold you and kiss you, y/n. That the first thing I want to do." Edward hummed.

"First? Wh-what are the other things?"

"The things I dream of, rabbit." He grinned.

"Tell me more about the dreams!" Y/n said.

He tutted, wagging his finger back and forth. Eyes were squinted as he disapprovingly frowned. He rested his forearms back on the metal ledge, smiling cockily.

"Now, that sounded like a demand. You aren't telling me to do something without asking nicely, are you?"

"N-No, I'm sorry! P-Please, tell me more Eddie." She corrected herself.

"That sounds much better."

He looked her up and down, sighing happily.

"Tell you more, hm? But there are so many dreams, so many fantasies. Though, one thing stays the same in every single one." Edward stated.

"What is that?" Y/n asked curiously.

He planted his hands on the cold surface, leaning towards the glass. His face turned into a very sadistic and comical expression. Dramatically, he emphasized his words.

"You take my dick like a fucking champ..." He smirked.

Y/n moaned, letting out a breathy sigh. Edward stayed in his close position, not finished with what he was saying.

"I'd fuck you so perfectly that nobody else's dick could even make you feel a fraction as good. But before I'd do that, I'd make sure you're on the brink of tears in desperation. You don't get dicked unless I believe you've earned it. I'd want you on your knees, begging, whimpering, groveling at my feet in hopes that I'll fuck your needy pussy." He chuckled.

Y/n's mouth was slightly agape, startled by how blunt he was. He looked like such a shy person, yet he was a total freak. Again, he was so good at pretending to be someone he was not. Everything he was saying seemed so out of character for him, but in reality, it was his true self. Y/n was just the only one who could bring that side out of him. Edward groaned, pointing at her mouth. He seemed irritated or frustrated, either one really.

"That pretty mouth, it's practically asking me to fuck it. Those lips look so plump and soft. Oh rabbit, open up, let me see your tongue." He asked, on the verge of pleading.

She hesitated slightly, but did as he said. Of course she did. No matter what, she would listen to and do what he said. She was his property, and they both knew it. None of them had to even say it. It was obvious that y/n was Edward's girl. Titles weren't necessary. She was simply his, as much as he was hers. Y/n let her tongue roll out and let Edward look at it for a bit. She did it in a way so that the cameras didn't see, and if they did, it just looked like she was yawning in a way. He covered his mouth with his fingers, doing his best to not jerk off at the brief sight of her tongue.

"Ffffuu...it's a blessing that I can't touch you. Your throat would be raw after I finish with you..." He groaned.

Y/n whined, spreading her legs open subtly. Edward looked down, seeing the obvious damp spot over her pelvic region. His tongue darted out and swiped over his lips. Her eyes were silently screaming 'Please, I want you!' and he loved it. Once again, he cursed the glass between them. He just wanted to devour her, taste her, eat her alive like a fox eats a rabbit. She probably tasted so sweet...

"I wish you could see how you look right now. It's so pitiful. You look like you want to be fucked so bad. Do you want to be fucked?" He groaned.

"Y-Yes, I need it daddy..." She shivered.

"Need? You desperate thing, tell me why you need to get fucked by me."

"B-Because I'm so w-wet...it aches..." Y/n whined.

"Poor rabbit, if he could daddy would bend you over and fuck you against this glass." He said flatly.

Y/n moaned softly, making Edward grip his pants. The sound was nearly enough to make him bust all over the hospital uniform. Not wanting to draw attention, Edward looked at the book again. He pretended to read it.

"You said you dreamt I was rough with you, yet I didn't even fuck you? Well, I can promise you that I'd never hurt you with your permission, I want you to know that. I love you too much to do that to you. I believe that trust and safety is important when doing things like that. So, do you trust me, y/n?" He asked, looking up from the book.

"Y-Yes."

"You believe I'll keep you safe?"

"Yes, I do."

"And you'd tell me if you were uncomfortable, yes?"

"Of course."

Edward looked back down at the book, once again pretending to read it. He was such an actor. It was almost sinful how easily he could hide his lust and vulgarity.

"So, if I shoved your face into your bed with my hand wrapped around your neck, would you like that? Would you like it if I made you choke and gasp for air?" He hummed.

"Fuck...y-yes..."

"Do you want me to pull your hair and skull fuck you until you're crying on my dick? I bet your gags sound so vulgar and erotic." He asked nonchalantly.

"E-Edward, please..."

He held up the book and slumped into the chair. Edward looked like this was the most boring conversation he had ever had in his life. His eyes lazily ran over the words in the book, y/n was half convinced he was actually reading it while he spoke those filthy words to her.

"I bet you'd like to get slapped too. Not too hard, of course. I wouldn't want to bruise that pretty little face. But, firm enough the make sure you don't step out of line. You seem like you love to be put in your place." He yawned.

"E-Edward, I don't know if I can handle this anymore..."

"That's too bad, you wanted to hear all of this, right? Now you need to sit and listen."

"F-Fuck..."

"You're filthy, rabbit. Letting a criminal and a murderer make your pussy wet."

"I-I know."

"That's good that you know. You're self-aware about how dirty you are. You must want dick terribly bad if you've resorted to someone like me."

"N-No, I l-love you!"

"Hmm, that's right. That doesn't make it any better though, rabbit. In fact, it makes it worse. Not only do you want to get dicked down by me, but you love me. For shame."

"B-But..."

"Oh, don't worry sweetheart. I'm not angry with you. I think it's lovely that you feel that way towards me, I feel the same to you. But, we better make sure no one else knows about this. Hm?"

"Mhm!"

Edward placed the book down, looking at y/n.

"Mmm, I wish I could just fuck the soul out of you. I want to make you writhe and squirm. I just know you'd feel so good around my dick."

She moaned a little louder, biting down on her tongue. Edward chuckled, leaning against the metal ledge again.

"You, rabbit, are going to scream my name." He smiled.

"Th-that's big talk f-from someone in A-Arkham." She stuttered.

Edward raised an eyebrow.

"Are you getting smart with me?"

"N-No...I was j-just..."

"No. I know what you were doing and I'm not amused. You don't think I'll find my way out of here? I will. And when I do, I'm coming for you."

Y/n blushed.

"When I get out of here, I'll be sure to rearrange those pathetic guts of yours. I'm all bark and bite."

"You can't even touch me, Edward. It sounds like a bunch of talk to me..." She huffed, getting annoyed with his cocky behavior.

"You want me to break the glass and fuck you right here? I could care less about being watched but I sincerely doubt you want the guards to see you get fucked stupid by me. Don't play with me." He spat.

"I'm n-not trying to play with you, daddy..." Y/n mumbled softly, looking down at her hands.

"Yes you are. You're mocking me and yet you sit before me, wet, pathetic, and needy. Isn't that right, rabbit?"

She nodded.

"You want me to protect you, hold you, love you, yes?" He smirked.

"Y-Yes..."

"My, my, you have terrible daddy issues, don't you? Hm. But, if you want that so bad, then why are you playing with me? Mocking me? Do you think I appreciate that? Do you think it makes me proud?" He scolded.

"No I don't, daddy." Y/n sniffled.

"Mhm, it was so rude of you to talk to me like that. Do you want to hurt daddy's feelings?" He frowned.

He was such a serpent. Oh, but he was so lovely, too. Y/n couldn't help it. It was as if she bit the apple from the tree of good and evil. Except, the serpent held the apple in his mouth after, taunting her as she begged for more. Edward was waving what she wanted in her face, just out of her reach. And he knew it. He was so sick that it was hypnotic. So dangerous yet so kind looking, a wolf in sheep's clothing. Y/n was getting too close to him, but she didn't care if she got bit.

"N-No! I don't want to!" She whined.

"Then what do we say when we hurt someone's feelings?" He hummed, cupping a hand over his ear.

Y/n swallowed a lump in her throat, practically choking on her desire. She placed her hands on the ledge, bottom lip quivering as she looked at Edward. He felt his heart skip a beat as he saw slight tears prick in her eyes. She looked so pretty when she cried, as demented as that sounded. A single tear trickled down her cheek before she wiped it away with her finger.

"M' sorry, daddy..." Y/n sighed.

"Oh, say it again, rabbit." Edward grinned.

She looked at him, blushing heavily. He raised and eyebrow, giving a sleazy smile. Y/n looked at the floor, feeling slightly humiliated. Why? She truly did not know. Maybe it was the way he was talking to her. He was so good at making her feel small.

"I-I'm sorry, daddy." She mumbled.

"An apology has never sounded so sweet..." He hummed.

Y/n figeted with her hands.

"You're just lucky I'm not able to get closer to you, rabbit. You'd be giving me more than just an apology." Edward stated flatly.

She whined, trying to picture what he was hinting at in her head. But, when she did that, she felt herself getting more turned on. That was the last thing she needed.

"I'd give you something too, but I don't know if you'd be able to handle it..." He laughed softly.

Oh, he was so demented. But, it was so hot to her. Y/n should not be so worked up over a murderer talking pure smut to her. Yet, she was. Her core ached and throbbed, pleading for her fingers, Edward's fingers, his dick, mouth, anything. She needed to be touched so bad. It was driving her crazy. She squeezed her thighs together, doing her best not to rub them together.

"That's it, back to being timid. You know you aren't the one in control here, y/n. I may be in chains in this hellhole, but don't think for one second that it makes me weak. I haven't touched you and yet I have you soaking wet, desperate to pleasure yourself while 2 cameras are pointed at you. I have you whimpering, whining, moaning, and begging for something that I can't even give you. Does that sound like someone with no power over you? No hold over you?"

"No, Edward. I-It doesn't."

"Exactly. And you love it."

She nodded and whined.

"I've got you eating out of the palm of my hand, y/n. Just like a rabbit. I wonder, if I give you a carrot, will you jump for me?" He snickered.

"I'm not a pet!" She spat.

"Then why are you so obedient to me? Why are you so dependent on me?" Edward asked, shrugging his shoulders.

"I-..."

He leaned forward, propping his elbows up. Looking at y/n, he spoke in a low tone.

"Admit it, I own you! My name is practically branded on your chest. If only...no, I don't want to scar that pretty skin of yours. But, maybe, I could just mark you...yes. Would you like that? My teeth digging into your neck? I swear I'll try to be gentle, but I'm afraid you might taste too good to be able to restrain myself...I bet your flesh and blood tastes like sugar..."

Y/n was shocked, completely thrown off by his sadistic words. Yes, she was trembling in fear. It was so disturbing to hear him talk about how he wanted to mark her, break the skin on her neck. But, yet again, y/n found herself drawn to him. It was sick, twisted, and vile. And her pussy throbbed.

"I-, b-but it'll hurt..." She whimpered.

"Well, I said I'd do my best to be gentle. All you have to do is tell me to stop! Though I so badly want to...rip you apart...I would never want to make you upset or uncomfortable, sweet rabbit." He smiled sadistically.

Y/n panted, feeling arousal seep onto her inner thighs. She felt so dirty...

"I already know the second you get home, you're going to play with yourself while thinking about me. Thinking about the things I could do to you. Thinking about how I could just..."

Edward banged his fists subtly on the table, maintaining a consistent rhythm. He kept eye contact the whole time, lips curling up into a sickly smile. He was a cocky little shit. He knew exactly what he was doing to her and he thrived in the actions he did. The sound of his fists banging rang in her ears and made her throb. Edward sped up the pace, watching as y/n's eyes closed, no doubt imagining the feeling and how it would look. Abruptly, he stopped, practically edging her in a way.

"...destroy you. Break you. Please you. Torture you." He smirked.

"E-Edward, you're a dick! You're tormenting me!" She cried softly.

"Yes I am, took you fucking long enough. I thought you were smart?" He mocked.

She shuddered, his cold gaze freezing her blood.

"It's a game to me, y/n. Yes, I love you, but I love making you crave me too. And you make it so easy..."

A knock on the glass startled y/n, making her turn around. It was most likely Bruce telling her that the visit was going on too long. She sighed, looking back to Edward. Y/n was upset, not wanting to leave, despite how torturous he was being to her. He too looked upset, his plaything was about to leave. His plaything. His. He'd have to make the last minute count. He lured the prey into security, and it was genuine security. But now, it was time for the mind games. It was time for him to strike fear and paranoia into her heart. He wanted to be in her mind for a long time to come.

"You said you loved how I intimidated and scared you in your dream, yes?" He asked.

"Yeah?"

"You'll never know when I get out of Arkham. Not until it hits the newspapers."

Y/n looked at him, unsure of what he was getting at.

"I wonder how long you'll be paranoid? How many times will you watch a dark corner, wondering if I'll walk out of it? How many times will you sleep with one eye open? How many times will you watch behind your back as you walk down the streets? I am still a criminal, after all." He smirked devilishly.

Y/n's eyes widened, feeling her skin turn to ice. It was then that she realized he truly was sick. But, why did she still love him? Oh, how conflicting a forbidden love must be. To want someone that should not be wanted. To seek approval from someone one should never seek approval from. His pupils looked dilated, staring deep into her soul. She felt exposed and violated just from his gaze. And she loved it...

"Lord, what fools these mortals be!" He shouted.

She shivered, standing up slowly from the chair. Edward picked up the book again, flipping to a certain page. He had memorized the entire book, as he had already read his own copy he bought at the bookstore. But, being Edward, he wanted to be theatric as he read quotes. He looked at y/n in the eyes, standing up abruptly, no doubt startling the guard, Bruce, and y/n herself. He placed his hands against the glass, a breathy laugh leaving his lips.

"I'll follow thee and make a heaven of hell..." He trailed.

Her pussy throbbed once again, thinking back to when they were in the bookstore. She had told Edward that she would never accept anyone's love unless they confessed or expressed it through Shakespeare. And, he was doing exactly that, Although, he was doing it in Edward fashion. Ominous, eerie, and disturbing.

"...to die upon the hand I love so well." She finished.

The door opened up and Bruce came in, grabbing y/n by the hand. Edward laughed hysterically, pacing back and forth behind the glass. His eyes were crazed behind his glasses as he kept his gaze on y/n the entire time. Y/n could tell that he was being dramatic, just wanting to get a rise out of everyone.

"Thus I die. Thus, thus, thus. Now I am dead, now I am fled, my soul is in the sky. Tongue, lose thy light. Moon take thy flight..." He paused, slowly walking back to the glass.

"...Now die, die, die, die!" He cackled.

He watched as Bruce dragged y/n out of the room. She looked back at him, still worked up from their 'discussion'. Edward blew a kiss to her, further making the scene more demented. Y/n attempted to reach up and grab it, but wanted to be discreet, so instead she smiled at him. It was odd though, as she was still terrified of his tangent that he went on. The sight of him laughing and quoting Shakespeare was not something she thought she would ever be scared of, but it was. But before she left, she heard him say one last thing. It sent chills down her spine.

"Run rabbit, run! For I linger in the shadows and you will never know when I might pounce..."

~

[glitchylikeslego]

Show Me Your Moves! (Chapter 14)

AO3 STORY

WE'RE ALL CAUGHT UP WITH THE AO3 STORY! From this point on in the story, the chapters will be uploaded on here and AO3 on the same days :)

Chapter 14 : Return

Return deals damage and has no secondary effects. It has more power the more friendship the user has.

The Calabash.

Oh how you worried for MK’s mental state.

The thought of Mei ‘confessing’ to MK made you cringe.

When Sandy called you earlier, panicking that MK was missing, you tried to calm him down and explain that MK was most likely okay, but that didn’t help very much.

Instead of opening up shop like normal, Sandy decided to take the day off with his therapy cats and you went to Pigsy’s restaurant for the first time. Upon your arrival, Mei threw herself into you. “You’re okay!”

“Yeah, I’m fine? What happened? I heard MK went missing.”

“He just went on a delivery and never came back! We don’t know the specifics.” Tang explained as Pigsy was grumbling at his counter.

“I’m sure he’s fine. MK is super OP, right? He’ll be fine.” You comforted Mei by patting her head. 

Mei’s muffled “I guess…” Barely reached your ears, and she just shoved her face in your shoulder as she sulked.

Despite Pigsy being obviously irritated that MK hasn’t returned, he still looked really worried and stressed, same with Tang, who’s been chewing the same noodles for longer than he normally would.

You patted Mei on the head and pushed her off yourself and approached Pigsy. “Hey, I said MK would be okay, you just need to trust in him.”

You could hear a quiet voice in the back of your head shout out “hypocrite!” at you. Pigsy sighed. “Ugh I know, but seeing these orders stack up and him not answering my calls still worries me.”

You contemplated for a moment before taking the food into your arms. “I can do it.” You offered. They all looked at you in surprise, and Pigsy thought it over carefully.

“It can give me a good chance to try and look for MK too!” You added, and with that, Pigsy immediately agreed to it.

Mei, with the proposition that you could deliver things for Pigsy and keep a lookout for MK, immediately agreed to drive you around on her motorbike to help you. You spent the next few hours looking for the successor, but to no avail.

And while that was a total flop, it wasn’t all bad, as you ended up coming face to face with an orange cat, and was rescued by the little girl who owned it as her mother thanked you for the delivery.

You felt a cool dread in your gut.

Mei continued driving you around the entire city, even after you were all finished to look for MK, but he still hasn’t come up yet.

Just how long is he stuck in there for?

You and Mei return to Pigsy’s MK-less, both of you being tired from all the driving around, and Mei was sulking even more.

Pigsy and Tang looked at you questioningly, only to deflate again when you shook your head no. 

“I don’t get it. Where is that kid?” Pigsy growled in frustration. 

And speak of the devil and he shall appear. 

Or in this case, the Monkie man. 

In the entrance to Pigsy’s was MK, still slightly frazzled from the Calabash and holding his staff in his hands. 

“MK!” You and Mei exclaim in relief, and Pigsy storms up to him. 

“Where have you been!? You’re lucky those two volunteered to pull your weight for you!” And while he didn’t say it, you could tell Pigsy was relieved that MK was okay. 

And on cue, MK started crying in happiness that Pigsy was normal and not the fake one. 

You decided to tune him out a bit, just glad that everyone isn’t stressed that he was missing anymore. 

And you were startled when everyone began yelling at him. Mainly startled because Mei had screamed loud and it hurt. 

You snapped your lego claw the best you could next to where your ear would be and when you confirmed you still had your hearing, you approached MK and gave him a side hug. “I knew you’d be okay. What happened anyway?”

He shuddered. “Something that I don’t want happening ever again.” 

You nodded as the three continued yelling at MK and decided to be one with the moment, not ready to make another moment like this sour with your cynical thoughts of what’s to come in the near future. 

5 episodes done, 5 more to go…

… dammit brain. 

~~~

<PREV ~ NEXT>

[thenwethrowitonthefire]

Shout-out to everyone who survived a "fun" easter with the family

[pussy-ache]

kinda wondering if i exaggerate the issue in my own mind