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#and the iron heart is pretty on the nose but still
ninjigma · 11 months
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DinLuke Week Part 5/7 - Previous / First / Next
Day 5: Courting Gifts Track: 'I Was Made For Loving You' - Tori Kelly, Ed Sheeran (Spotify / YouTube)
Wasn't sure exactly how to depict this one, but just a soft moment right after giving the gifts seemed to work :) Just some small things for them each to carry, that can be hidden when needed and held close when needed more. Because what can say courting more then exchanging symbols for your heart?
@dinlukeweek
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moonstruckme · 4 months
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spencer reid waking up the next morning and reader's chest is cOVERED in hickies/bruises and he is freaked out and is so sorry that he hurt reader, and she has to talk him off a ledge bc she just bruises easily? thank you!
Thanks for requesting!
Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 728 words
Spencer’s wanted to get you like this forever. In his apartment, in his bed, with the pale morning light washing over your features. Your face is all smoothed out, placid and pretty against his pillowcase. Your eyelids twitch as you dream. Spencer’s never put as much stock into dreams as some other psychologists, but he really wants to know what you dream about. He hopes you remember enough to tell him. 
You stir a bit, rolling onto your back and letting the covers slip down from where you’ve been holding them tucked them underneath your chin. Spencer’s chest warms at the sleepy movement, but he pauses at the mark that’s revealed just above your collarbone. The bruise is stark and angry in the early sunlight, red turning to purple. Spencer’s heart contracts. Is that from him? He doesn’t remember treating you so cruelly. 
He holds his breath, brushing gently over the spot with his forefinger. It has to hurt. How could he have done something like this without knowing? He remembers kissing you there, sucking a little, but nothing that would leave a mark like this. 
You shift at the touch, and the sheet falls another few inches. Two more, one on your shoulder and another just below the first. Spencer sucks in a breath. 
You hum and roll towards him, eyelids peeling open. “Spence?” 
Spencer’s working the sheet out from under your arm, trying to get another look at the bruises. Trying to prove to himself that he did actually see them. 
“Spence,” you say again, groggily. “What’re you doing?” 
“Sorry I—” He lets the sheet go, trying to collect himself. “I just—I saw the hickeys, from last night, and I—”
“Oh, are they bad?” You push yourself upright, letting the sheet fall away completely. 
Spencer is aghast. He’s lost for words. He needs to be thrown into federal prison. 
Bruises cover your chest. Your collarbones, your breasts, the undersides of your breasts, your shoulders—all of it. Spencer doesn’t recall marking you up so thoroughly. He hardly recalls kissing you in half these places. 
“Oh my god.” He looks at your eyes, repentant. “Sweetheart, I had no idea I was being this rough with you. I’m so sorry.” 
“Spence,” you laugh. “It’s okay.” 
“You should have said something if I was hurting you. I never want to do anything like—”
“Hey,” you cut him off, and you’re still smiling, which he thinks is really rather inappropriate. He’s desecrated you. “It didn’t hurt, okay? I was fine, and I’m still fine. I just bruise really easily.” 
Spencer feels his eyebrows bunch disbelievingly. “This easily? These look like they could have been done with a pellet gun.” 
You shrug, looking a bit bashful as you pull your shoulders up around you. He’s willing to bet you’re fighting the urge to cover yourself with the sheet.
He covers one of the marks on your shoulder with his thumb, watching your face carefully. “Does this hurt?” he asks, pressing on it gently. 
Your eyelashes don’t so much as flicker. “No,” you say honestly. 
Spencer feels like his chest might collapse in relief. “Jesus. That really scared me,” he admits. 
Your lips twitch. “Yeah, I could tell. Sorry for freaking you out.” 
“Sorry for defacing you,” he responds, pressing an especially gentle kiss to the side of your neck. “And for waking you up with my freak out.” 
You let your smile bloom, bright and endearingly kind. “I don’t mind,” you say.
Spencer analyzes you, contemplative. “You know, that sort of bruising could be caused by an iron deficiency. Or a lack of vitamin C.” 
“Mhm?” You’re completely uninterested, leaning forwards to kiss his chin. You nose at the stubble on his cheek. 
“How would you feel about having some spinach in your eggs?” 
You sit back. “You’re going to make me eggs?” 
“Well,” Spencer smiles sheepishly, “first we have to go to the store for spinach and eggs, and then yes. If you want, I’d be happy to make you eggs.” 
“Okay,” you say breezily, swinging your legs out of the bed, “but if you’re only doing it so I’ll stop bruising, you should taper your expectations.”
“There’s no way I’m letting this happen again,” he says. “I can’t mark you up every time I kiss you.”
You hum. “I never said I minded.” 
“I mind.” 
“Well, to each their own.”
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charliemwrites · 5 months
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Hahahaha good morning I had the wildest dream last night so I’m going to inflict it on all of you:
(I’m not done with keeper/kept. Just had to get this out)
Warnings for obsessive/possessive behavior, unhealthy and semi-one sided relationship, not-quite-dark John price.
John Price who decides it time he has a wife. Not retiring, god no! He’s not done yet. But his home is lonely when he’s on leave; he’s getting sentimental as he gets “older”. So, he wants a wife.
In theory, it sounds like just what he wants. A pretty warm thing snoozing in his bed when he gets home at ass o’clock in the morning. Someone to fret over new scars and fresh bandages. Someone to fuss at him for “taste testing” meals and wrinkle their nose at his cigars.
In practice, it’s not so easy. If it was, he reckons he would have been married by now. Good thing he’s already got the perfect candidate picked out.
You own a small business in his town. Not fabulously wealthy, but comfortable and independent. Something to keep you busy while he’s away but you make your own hours so your schedule it flexible to see him when he has infrequent leave.
And he adores you, knows that you’ve got more than a little crush on him. You smile and blush and reciprocate his interest, have only refrained from perusing anything because you didn’t think he was serious. But oh, he is.
One day you say something particularly charming and he says, “marry me.”
He’s been dropping these little jokes for a while now and you always start laughing because it’s just the kind of dramatic humor you love. Today you say something different than your usual overdramatic “oh but it could never work, captain.”
Today you say, “if only.”
How pathetic is it that you’re holding a candle for a man you’ve never even gotten a coffee with? Your family laments that your can’t spend your whole life married to your job. That they want grandchildren and nieces/nephews, someone to tell embarrassing stories about you to on holidays. You used to roll your eyes, but the prospect doesn’t feel so obligatory anymore.
Anytime you imagine it, it’s John Price there. You’ve stopped trying to imagine it for your heart’s sake.
Except a week later he’s sweeping into your shop and dropping a kiss on your cheek. An unusual greeting, but maybe he’s in a good mood. His hand lingers on the small of your back while you show him the new product that just came in.
You live above your shop and one day he shows up at the door with a bottle of wine, telling you he could use some good company. You’re shocked and confused but he looks like an amalgamation of every heartthrob in a hallmark or romcom you’ve ever “ironically” enjoyed. You invite him in.
By mid morning, he’s had you in every room of your apartment. Ate you out slow and greedy on the counters. Bent you over the dining table. Bounced you on his cock on your couch. Fingered his cum out of you in the bathtub. And absolutely ruined you twice over in your own bed.
He even changes the sheets before the two of you pass out that final time. And when you finally do wake up, he’s taken the initiative to brew coffee and make breakfast. It’s like a dream.
He fucks you against the door before he leaves.
When he’s deployed again, he calls you every night. You don’t expect it the first time, but it’s a sweet gesture to show things aren’t ruined. You’re not expecting the second time either and have to call him back when you climb out of the shower. The third time you wait for it, but still startle a bit when his name pops up on the screen.
He calls you every night he can while he’s away. You don’t know what to make of it.
Then one day you come back from errands to see movers in the yard. You think it’s some kind of mistake until John meets you at your car.
“Fire in the next building over,” he explains. “Their insurance will cover all the damages but it’s not safe to stay in your place. Mine’s just up the road. Figured you could stay until it’s sorted out.”
You want to be annoyed, and you almost are. But the overwhelm of nearly losing everything - only to have all the stress already handled and the important, nerve wracking decisions smoothed over? You just take the good luck.
To thank John for his generosity (and to fill the void of not running the shop) you bustle around his too-big house. Cook meals, keep things tidy. Keep John company when he manages to snag you from your gratitude-induced work.
He spends hours fucking you nice and slow, whispering things you barely remember in your ear. That you’re perfect for him, so sweet like a little wife, that he’d come home to you for the rest of his life. You kiss him quiet and rock back against him when it starts sounding too tempting.
Eventually, the repairs on your shop/apartment are done. It feels like a rude awakening to a pleasant dream. Instead of moving your things back, John moves more things in. When you tell him that you appreciate his kindness, but you should probably get back to your own space, he gets an odd look. Asks what you mean when this is your space.
And the trap springs closed.
“John,” you half-laugh, shaking your head. “We’re not actually married you know?”
“Not last I checked.”
The marriage certificate gets framed in the bedroom you’ve been sharing for a month. You storm out and stay in a hotel. He lets you for three days before coming to retrieve you. When you try to be stubborn, he gives you an exasperated look (as if you’re the one being unreasonable) and politely asks that you not make a scene by forcing him to carry you of there.
For your own reputation, you comply, glowering out his car window the whole ride to his house. Try to give him the silent treatment which lasts about 30 minutes before he’s got you moaning and whining on his cock.
He drives you to the shop in the morning and picks you up at night. Anytime you try to put your little foot down, he just scoops you off them. The neighbors start cooing that he’s such a good man. You try not to scream.
When he’s finally deployed again, you try to move all your things back to your home. Except the movers apologetically tell you that they can’t trespass on John’s property.
Fine, you’ll do it yourself. Somehow.
You pack two suitcases and some of your cookware. Load it all up in a rental - because John sent your damn car into the shop - and trying to get comfortable in your own flat again.
Except it’s all wrong. The scent of smoke still lingers, it’s cold because the heating hasn’t been turned on yet this year. Half your things are gone and there’s no food in the fridge or pantries. You tough it out. Buy a ready-made meal and new bed linens and pillow. Sleep in a bed too cold even with the heat finally on.
When John calls, you don’t answer. He sends a text that simply reads “I love you.” You toss your phone across the room.
The next night, when he calls again and you don’t answer, he sends a “stay safe, love.” You spend twenty minutes with fingers poised over the keys. Chug a glass of wine and send back a neutral “you too, John”.
When he calls on the third night, you pick up, bark a sharp “knock it off” and hang up. Another text that he was so happy to hear your voice.
Another call, you pick up and demand “what are you doing?” He chuckles on the other end. “Calling my darling wife. I miss you.” You believe him. That’s the worst part.
When he gets back, you ride the long, long river of denial right up until he’s at your door, eyebrows arched. “Really, love,” he hums, “you didn’t have to come all the way over here just because you missed me.”
You want to hit him. You storm off to your bedroom instead. He wanders the house. You hear him clattering in the kitchen and wandering around the living room. When you hear the door close, you think he’s finally left and given all this up.
Twenty minutes later, he’s casually removing the door (sans hinges) and gathering you up. When you get back to his house, he carries you inside and fucks the tantrum right out of you in the shower, growling that you don’t smell like home anymore.
When you wake up from your three-orgasm induced nap, he’s washing the clothes you took to your old flat. On your left hand is a pretty diamond with “JP” carved into the band.
At the store, people start calling you “Mrs. Price”. The neighbors (John’s neighbors) invite you over as “the Prices”. You glare at him when he starts looking too smug about it.
When he’s set to deploy again, he sits you on the kitchen counter, caging you in with arms.
“Don’t make me come get you this time,” he warns, pressing kisses along your jaw. “This is gonna be a rough one. I just want to see you when I get home.”
It’s a warning that you know to heed. You don’t try to leave this time. When he calls, you answer, rattling off stupid details about your day. You’re shocked to hear him remember names and dates and tasks with everything else hes got going on. Promises he’ll deal with the creep at the post office when he gets home.
“And… you are coming home… right?” you ask.
“Nothing could keep me away, love.”
He doesn’t call for three days straight. You tell yourself the tightness in your chest is just anxiety over how the hell to handle his assets if he’s dead.
At 3am, the bed dips, a warm body pressing up against your back. You recognize John’s arms wrapping tight around your waist. You stir.
“Are you alright?” you ask.
“Perfect now, love.”
“Mm welcome home.”
“Good to be home, gorgeous.”
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smuthospital · 7 months
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🎃⭐️Texas Chainsaw Massacre x reader⭐️🎃
Art by: Minilev
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Premise: You go hiking with a friend and this bitch has the audacity to leave you alone. You end up hitchhiking with some hippies, but their van gets a flat! Oh no! Good thing there's a farmhouse nearby. Maybe they can help
Note: I had this in the drafts for awhile. I decided to whip it out for halloween. Enjoy. Say one thing bad thats not constructive criticism and its a block. Tired of these fucking kids smh. Also, imagine everyone with a soulthern accent
-Dr. Smut
Minors DNI
Warning: Non-Con, side charicter death, mentions of gore, kidnapping, fem reader
"So uh..thanks for picking me up." You say with a nervous smile. You refrain from coughing as the strong smell of marijuana floods your nose. Right now, you're in a classic 70s Volkswagen van, hitchhiking through Texas. Your friend convinced you to go backpacking with her, but a quarterway through, she ditched you to continue the trip with her new boyfriend. Some junky she met at a gas station. You can't exactly turn tail and go home because she took the car, and stranded you in the middle of nowhere so, you had no choice, but to catch a ride with some hippies.
"No prob, sweet cheeks. Anything for a pretty lil' lady like yourself." The driver looks back at you for a moment and winks. You think he may like you. You cringe slightly. "Eddy has a crush on you! Ain't that right, Ed?" A girl next to you wearing a tie-dye crop top pokes Edds back a couple of times. "Well, who wouldn't?" He chuckles. You play with your fingers nervously. You've been driving along a dusty, desolate path through some empty part of Texas for a while now. You've always been perturbed by the idea of Texas. Americans and with their guns and hot temper and all. It seems you may have watched too many scary movies. You haven't seen a soul for miles, let alone a house, just tall grass and more tall grass.
The car suddenly jolts and you're all jostled around. The girl sitting next to you clings to you as the driver slams the brakes. You gasp for air, your heart pounding a mile a minute. "Huh!? W-what the!?" Edd shouts before hopping out to investigate. You cautiously slip out the back and join him. Edd lifts a spiked wire. It's still stuck in the now flat tire. "Some asshole must'a dropped it here while delivering somethin'," he says as he drops it back on the ground. It popped the back tires. You pull out your phone. No service. Of course.
"Do you have any spares?" You ask, hoping to get out of this creepy place. "Unfortunately these are the spares, sweet cheeks." He sighs. "Weren't you supposed to buy more, Ed?" Ann shouts from the window. "This is no time to argue! We have to get help!… Look, There's a farmhouse right there. Let's hope someone's home." He says, walking towards it.
You hesitantly follow them to the creepy house. "I'm gonna check the farm, you two knock on the door." Edd doesn't give anyone time to respond before he walks off. You walk up to the front door and Ann knocks. You feel like you're being watched. You shift from foot to foot nervously. A few minutes pass and no word. Not even a sound. "What the? Where's Edd? If no one was home, he should be back by now!" Ann looks around. You begin feeling incredibly anxious. "Let's go find that idiot," she says and walks off quickly, you follow behind her. You can't leave her to do it by herself so you agree. You walk over to the farm and see…the gate open.
"H..hello?" You call. "E-Edd?"…No response. The two of you cautiously walk into the house. It smells like wood and iron. You see a red smudge on the wall…weird. This is getting scary. "Ann…I think we sh-" You're cut off by a blood-curdling scream from Ann. You quickly go over to the open doorway she's looking at to see a horrific sight. Edd has been cut to pieces. You hold back bile in your throat and grab Ann. "Let's go!" You shout. She snaps out of her trance and follows you to the entryway, only for the two of you to halt in your tracks.
Standing there is a giant, his hulking frame filling the doorway. He's the scariest thing you've ever seen in your life. A mask covers half his face, and in his arms is a chainsaw. You make eye contact with the beast and scream. Ann yanks you deeper into the house, hoping to find an exit. The man follows you, hot on your trail. You see a back door and try to open it, but it's locked. Cassie then barely avoids losing her arm as she dodges the giant.
He hasn't tried to attack you yet. You grab a chair and smash it through a window. You pick up a plant and throw it at the man, who cornered Ann. He's completely unphased, but pauses and looks at you as if to warn you. You toss his warning to the wind and jump on his back. "Ann, go!" You scream. Ann runs towards the window but stops when another man shorter than the man you're currently on top of, smashes a hammer onto her head.
You hear a crack and she falls to the floor, limp. "Ann!" You cry. Your body was then slammed to the floor by the hulking, chainsaw-wielding psychopath. You whimper and crawl backwards. You hit a wall and he lifts his chainsaw towards you. You're thankful It's turned off. You close your eyes and wait for death. You feel the blade lightly touch your collarbone…and then gently move down between your breasts and to the junction between your spread legs…he rubs your thigh with the chainsaw lightly, as if thinking. You look up at him in confusion. He tosses the saw to the side and grabs your face in his large hand. He tilts your head from side to side, examining you.
"Think she's pretty, Tommy?" The man who just attacked Ann asked.
'Tommy', the giant holding your face grunts and nods. You're horrified. Does this monster think you're pretty? "Yeah, I agree, Tommy. Good thing you didn't turn her into dinner… though, I don't think you were gonna. You had your eye on her since their car landed in our road trap." He laughed. Trap!? This was all a setup!? Did he say dinner!? Your head is spinning.
Tommy looped his bur waist arm around your waist and hoisted you up, placing you on his shoulder like you weighed a small sack of potatoes. "H-hey! What are you doing? Put me down!" You shout, pounding your hands on his back, but it doesn't even look like he knows you're hitting him. You hear footsteps and look up to see an old woman looking over at you. “P-please help me” you whimper. She smiles down at you sweetly.
"Well, I do say, you sure found yourself a sweet little thing. Ain't that right, Thomas.” The hulking figure above you grunts in agreement. You cry as you realize she has no intention of helping you in the least. “She has a pretty voice too…Take care of my Tommy, girl!” She warns, glaring down at you. “Tommy. Get'er to pop out a few farmhands, will you?" All blood drains from your face. They…want you to…what? Tommy carries you down into a dark, creepy basement. You almost puke. You see dead bodies hanging from hooks and dismembered limbs and bones strewn about….is that Edd? You're carried down a hallway and into a room. The room is empty besides a dirty mattress in a corner. He throws you on the mattress and begins to undress you immediately.
You scream and try to stop him, but he's just too strong. "P-Please stop!" You cry. Tears flow down your cheeks and you hiccup. Tommy leans down and wipes away your tears, not calming you in the slightest. He strips you down to your bra and panties and takes a good look at you, drinking up your body. You can see the lust in his eyes. He grunts in excitement and removes his bloody apron. You curl your body up and hide yourself from him. He softly strokes your cheek and hugs you like you're a teddy bear. He's oddly gentle, but you feel he's losing patience. He taps your shoulder a few times, silently urging you to show yourself to him. when you don't, his taps become a little harder. He grunts in annoyance. He presses himself into you, trying to get closer. You feel his hard cock through his pants and try to shuffle back.
He grunts in frustration, yanking your arm and knees apart, forcing your body to reveal. You need to do something!…" Please,… don't hurt me, Tommy" He only stares into your eyes. You can see emotions swirl in his eyes before he lets go of you and stomps out of the room. Looks like he's giving you time to cooperate. You bring your hands to your face and sob. You look up. You have to get out of here! You hope to god you can do this. You get up and tip-toe towards the door as quietly as you can. You slowly open it and slide it open just enough for you to fit through, which proves to be quite difficult as it's very heavy. You don't know how the monster did it before.
You continue to quietly make your way down the dark hallway, missing the dark shadow to your side. You try not to look around too much at the carnage before making your way up the stairs. You find the window you previously broke now boarded up. You take a deep breath, preparing to make a run for the front door. You haven't heard anyone yet so you think you're still in the clear. You make it to the front door and just as you're about to try and open it, your body is slammed against the wall, your breath knocked out of you. You cough and groan. You feel dizzy. You look up to see Tommy staring down at you with a look of anger. Was he waiting for you to try to escape?
You grit your teeth before lifting your knee to knee him in the crotch, but he anticipates it and grabs your leg, lifting it. He makes space for himself between your legs and lets his large hands roam your bare midriff and up to your breasts where he proceeds to rip off your bra, revealing your chest to him. You whimper in pain and try to hide yourself, earning yourself a shove into the wall, banging your head slightly.
The corners of your eyes go dark for a few moments. Your head stops spinning when he leans down and slides his tongue up your cheek. His other hand reaches down and roughly grabs at your clothed cunt. He makes sounds of excitement once again. Saying you're terrified would be an understatement. You feel his fingers cup and wiggle around down there, not knowing what to do, but liking the feeling of doing it.
You again try to shove him off as best you can. He grunts in annoyance and moves the hand previously on your chest up to your throat. Your whimpers and please turn into choked gasps and gurgles as he squeezes. He gets even closer and you can feel something hard rub against your lower stomach. "Get her, Tommy, get her!" You hear from behind him. He grunts in response and tears off your underwear. He brings it to his nose and inhales. His eyes roll back a bit as if smelling the most heavenly scent imaginable.
You now realize he's probably never held a woman before and he's completely deprived of any sort of warm human touch. "Common, Tommy, gimme that! You get to have her, the least I should get is her undies!" His brother pleads. Tommy contemplates holding the small bit of cloth in front of him before tossing it back, which his brother catches and desperately presses to his face, moaning into the fabric like it's an oxygen mask.
Tommy grabs your hair and begins dragging you back down to the basement. You scream in pain and grab onto his hand for any relief as you're forced to the ground. "No! Please! Ahh Stop!" You cry out. He drags your naked body down the blood-crusted steps and makes his way back to the room you dread. He tosses you onto the mattress once again. By the time you manage to get up on your knees, you hear a clinking sound and turn to see him undoing his belt.
You crawl into the corner as he gets on his knees before you, his shadow casting over you. He unbuttons his shirt and lets it fall off. You now know that trying to inflict pain on him is futile. Muscles that scream he could crush you like a soda can. Not only is he as big as a fridge, but he also looks like an off-season pro wrestler. You can see a very prominent bulge struggling to free itself. The size of the tent itself is intimidating.
His eyes lock on yours as he slowly unzips his belt and frees his aching cock. You look away and feel his weight settle on the bed closer to you. You can feel his heavy breathing on the side of your face. He grabs your legs and yanks you beneath him, positioning himself at your entrance. You feel his bulbous tip rub up and down your folds. "Please…" Your eyes widen and you trail off as your eyes lower to what's prodding at your cunt. You want to look away, but morbid curiosity wins. It's almost unbelievable. His cock like himself, is too big. It's long, very thick and veiny. It looks like a beer can. You can just tell he's smiling under his mask.
He slowly pushes the tip in. You try to scoot back, but he grips your hips with his massive hands and pushes forward, but fails entry, seeming too big. He grunts in frustration. He tries again, this time managing to push the tip in. You scream. It hurts so bad. "No, y-you're too big!" you gasp, squirming in place. He holds your hips tighter and continues pushing forward, impaling you on his cock, all the way to the base.
Your mind blanks. You're unable to think cohesively. You're in so much pain. He lets out a groan of pleasure and doesn't wait for you to adjust to his size and just starts moving. It feels like your organs are moving around to accommodate his massive size. You look down to see a large bulge in your lower stomach. You whimper and groan as he thrusts. "W-why?" You croak. He looks up at you before lifting your knees, pressing them to your chest and leaning on you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you feel him push deeper into your womb, the tip of his cock threatening to push through your cervix. He nuzzles his face into the side of your neck, cooing softly to you affectionately while playing with your hair as if to say 'I love you'.
You cry beneath him, moans being forced from your lips as his hips plow into yours. Tommy grabs your breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers. You can hear him making happy sounds of some sort between grunts. He suddenly picks you up and gets off the bed with you in his arms, skewering you on his cock. He raises you up and down like a human fleshlight. You uncontrollably moan into his shoulder. His hands grope your ass as he starts to force you up and down faster. It feels good. You can't help but feel shame.
He grunts loudly and forces himself as deep as he can. You whine as you feel a rush of hot cum flow into you. Rope after rope, he fills you up. You feel so hot inside. Your stomach bloats from the sheer volume he fucked into you. He pants and looks at you, rubbing your cheek with his. He slowly lifts you off his cock, cum pouring from your abused cunt before setting you down on the mattress. He covers you with a thick warm blanket and brushes your hair from your face, stroking it with his thumb lovingly. If you knew this was gonna be a one-way trip, you would've brought some pillows.
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darkbluekies · 9 months
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i have been DREAMING of a silas torture scene!!! i have literally read, re-read, and re-re-read every word you’ve ever written about that man .. you have no IDEA how much I am going to eat up his torture story 🤭🤭 thank you for feeding us!!! <3<3
In the basement
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Mafia!yandere OC x reader
Summary: you find yourself in Silas' basement once again and he decides to try a new torture technique — which backfires.
Warnings: torture, violence, mentions of starvation, manipulation burning, boiling water, mentions of cuts, mentions of sawing off people's limbs, ripping out teeth and nails, blood, beating, (let me know if you find more, I have been editing and rewriting so much that I've forgotten what is in the story at this point)
Word count: 3.5k
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You lift your head when you can hear footsteps coming towards you. The mumble of Silas men greeting someone is all you need to know who’s here to see you. 
“There we have them”, Silas snickers and clicks his tongue amusedly. He’s acting as if he’s talking to a child. “Are we ready to act like a big girl/boy again?”
You glare up at him, where he stands with his hands in his front pockets. If you could, you’d tackle him until he hits his head, but your ankles are chained to the cold floor.
“I fucking hate you”, you mutter coldly. 
“Oh, do you now?” he chuckles cockily  and grabs your chin firmly, tilting it up to look at him. 
Your neck gets strained beyond its limits. Silas is tall and refuses to crouch down to make it easier for you to look up at him.
"Still disobeying?" he asks. "I thought you'd be good by now. I miss you, little thing. I want to have you back in my arms. Who am I supposed to hug at night?"
"Hug a cactus", you spit. "Suits your pleasant personality-"
Silas chuckles and grabs a fistful of your hair. He sinks down in front of you and forces you to look at him. Your eyes widen in fear and your scalp burns at his fingertips. You can feel your heart beat harshly in your chest. Suddenly, you remember why you've been afraid of him before — why his techniques always work. You seem to forget the basement when you've been let out, everything turning into a blur. All you remember is that you do not want to go back. But somehow, you always manage to.
"You don't want me to be nice, do you?" he asks you. "Want me to break that pretty little head until you're bleeding, hm?"
You shake your head quickly. Suddenly, you've figuratively your tongue — and if you're not careful you'll soon literally lose it. 
Silas lets go of your hair and stands up. You keep your head down. 
“Hm, what should we do to teach you a lesson?” Silas thinks out loud and takes a hold of your hand. “Should we … break some fingers?”
You shake your head quickly and try to take your hand back. Silas holds it tightly and brings out a lighter from his pocket. You panic and try to rip your hand out of his iron grip. Silas traps you against the wall with his knee and elbow keeping you in place. He shifts his bodyweight onto you and traps your arm onto the wall by securing your wrist to the surface. With his other hand, he brings out his lighter. You squirm desperately under him.
“Alright, I’m not going to break your pretty fingers”, he says. “You need them to please me.” 
“Please, please, don’t!” you screech and try to kick him. “Silas, don’t!”
He lights it.
“Do you know how my heart feels right now, Y/N?” he asks calmly. “It’s burning. I think it’s only fair for you to feel it too, to understand how hurt I feel.”
He moves the flame to your arm, holding it under your skin. You cry out in pain and apply more force to your wiggling. A stance of burning flesh reaches your nose. Silas holds the flame for a good thirty seconds before removing it. He brushes some soot off of your arm and bends down to kiss it. He moves on to your next arm, then your waist. You finally manage to pull your arms free and push him away. You try to sink down on the floor, but he lifts you up by your shoulders. 
“I need you to stand up for me”, Silas says. “Still with me?”
Your face scrunches up in pain. Silas shakes you carefully. 
“Still with me, baby?” he asks in a loving voice that doesn’t match his manners. 
You nod weakly. Silas smiles slightly and places you back at the wall. Your poor legs are still cuffed and feeling like jelly. Silas chuckles. 
He looks over his shoulder as two of his men come in with four buckets of water. You stare at them with wide eyes. This is new. 
“You know I can’t hurt you”, Silas says and walks over to the buckets. 
“Can’t hurt me?” you repeat in disbelief and show your arms full of cuts and bruises. “You’ve burned me! You’ve cut me!”
“You should see what he does to people he doesn’t like”, one of his men smirks. 
“Don’t talk to them”, Silas warns him and grabs the man by his collar. “Or you’ll get to taste what I do to those I don’t like.”
“Yes, sir, sorry, sir.”
Silas lets him go and grabs one of the buckets. He walks back to you where you stand against the wall. You want to sink into it. With your eyes glued onto the bucket, you open your mouth to ask what he’s going to do but you don’t have time to do so before he throws it at you. You hide your face with your arms and scream. Boiling hot water crashes against your body. Your dirty clothes stick onto you and quickly grow cold. You breathe heavily and look at Silas in shock and pain. He has already turned around to get the next bucket. Suddenly, everything’s ice cold and you scream again. Somehow, it’s worse this time. The quick temperature change feels like sharp needles penetrating your skin. You’re sure that Silas’ men upstairs can hear you by now. 
You shake your head in desperation as you see Silas pick up the next bucket. 
“Silas, please-”, you cry out. 
“You caused this yourself, Y/N”, Silas reminds you. “You have one simple rule: do not leave me. And what did you do?”
You stay quiet. He throws the next buckets full of water. Scorching hot. You scream even louder and start to sob. 
“What did you do?” Silas asks testingly and walks over to the last bucket. 
“I-I tried to run away!” you cry out and hug your shaking body. 
“And?” 
He picks up the next bucket. 
“I talked to a cop!” you sob and press yourself closer to the cement wall. “I’m sorry, I’ll never do that again! Please don’t hurt me anymore! Please, Silas, I-I’ll do anything!”
Silas scoffs. “You wanted to leave me, get me in trouble and destroy everything I’ve built up these last ten years! And I’m just supposed to … forgive you?”
You sob. You know how proud Silas is of his imperium. He's spent the last ten years building it to become the most fearless and powerful criminal in the country. You just wanted him to feel as helpless as you do.
Silas throws the last bucket at you and an icy waterfall greets you. One last scream leaves your panicked body. You sink down in a curled up ball as you hug your body, trying to keep some kind of warmth and shield. You sob and whimper with your head full of fear and nerve system confused. Silas throws the plastic bucket to the side and walks over to you. He sinks down in front of your body and grabs your chin between his index finger and thumb, like he did before. 
“What do I need to do to make you obedient?” he asks. “Do I need to kill everyone to make you stay with me?”
“Please …”, you plead through hammering teeth. “Please don’t, please-”
He hushes and cups your cold, wet cheeks. 
“You only need me anyway”, he says softly. “All those other people — your family, your friends — they don’t care about you like I do, do they? They just pretend to spare your feelings. Have they even tried to find you? Or help you? They’re probably going on with their lives the same, as if nothing has changed, in this precise moment.”
“You don’t know that”, you whisper and sniffle. 
“I do know. I have been watching them.” Silas moves closer to you. “If they really cared about you, they’d tell you when you did something wrong, and then help you fix it. That's what families do, they help you become a better version of yourself. They wouldn’t lie and let you destroy and embarrass yourself. The reason I put you down here, Y/N, is because you're my family, someone I care very much about. I have to teach you a lesson to make sure that you don’t do anything dumb. You’re a danger to yourself. You need me to take care of you, to teach you what is right and wrong.” He caresses your cheeks. “If only you didn’t do such stupid things I wouldn’t have to do these hurtful things. You know I love you.”
You sob and look down. 
"Say it back, Y/N", he urges you. "Say that you love me."
"I … I love you", you mumble.
"Good girl/boy."
Silas warm lips presses a hard kiss to your forehead before standing up. You sit frozen while he walks up the stairs. 
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Silas leaves you alone for another twenty four hours before he walks down again, to see if you’ve broken yet. If you haven’t, he’s going to take your clothes and carve in his name in your leg to force you to see his name every time you open your eyes. He sees you curled up in a ball in the corner of the dark, cold basement. You’re not moving. 
“Are you sleeping, baby?” he smirks. “Rise and shine, we have work to do! We’re not done yet.”
You don’t move. You must be weak from hunger. 
“If you act well today, I might get you something to eat”, he smiles and walks over to you. “Would you like that?”
He’s much, much nicer to you than to the other people who have the displeasure of ending up in his basement. He would never talk to them as sweetly as he does to you, never negotiate with them like this. He would never change his torture methods to be nicer to anyone else but you. 
“Y/N.”
You don’t give him any attention. Silas rolls his eyes and grabs your hair to turn your face to him. You moan out a weak painful sound. Something’s wrong, Silas can tell that. He sinks down in front of you and presses his hand to your forehead. 
Shit.
Silas can feel how his heart skips a beat. He should have realized that you would have gotten sick if he left you in this cold basement in your ice cold, soaked clothes and hair. He gulps and cups your cheeks. 
“Are you awake?” he asks quickly. “Baby, look at me.”
You open your eyes slowly and look at him with dull, glossy eyes. Silas looks over his shoulder, towards the stairs. 
“Get me the keys to the cuffs!” he roars. 
He turns back to you and hastily brushes the hair out of your face. 
“Hold out, darling”, he says softly. “You’ll be taken care of as soon as I get the key.”
You cough out a weak sound that seem to come from deep inside of you. Silas helps you by patting your back. 
A woman comes down and gives Silas’ his keys. He hurries to uncuff your ankles and pick your warm, limp body up in his arms. He hurries up the basement stairs and then up the next stairs to your bedroom. He takes your cold clothes off of you and gives you new, dry ones. His sweatpants, his t-shirt. You black out right away. He takes the time to take care of your older cuts and your newer burns before tucking you in bed. Silas watches you with a burning gaze. He clenches his jaw before walking out of the room. His second in command stands downstairs.
"You", he says angrily.
"Yes, boss?" he asks and looks up from his phone. "What can I help you with?"
"Go up to the bedroom and watch over Y/N. I don't want them to be alone."
"Sure, but what are you going to do?"
"I'm going to work a bit. I need to get my mind on other things."
"I will watch them for you."
"Thank you." He grabs his shoulder. "You know the rules. Recite them."
"I will not talk to them if not necessary. I will not answer any questions and I will not touch them if not necessary. I will let you know right away if something is wrong.”
Silas nods and walks away. He walks into his office and sits down behind his desk. Although he tries to concentrate on paperwork, anger is boiling through his veins. He doesn’t know what he’s angry at — himself, you or his men. Himself for forgetting that you could get extremely sick, his men for not warning him … or you for getting out of your punishment before he had gotten to the point he wanted. He tells himself that this sudden sickness is a part of your punishment, but it doesn’t help his racing heart. 
Silas pours himself a glass of brandy, in hopes to calm his nerves. The liquid burns down his throat and warms up his body, but it doesn’t help. Before he can stop himself, he throws the glass as hard as he can against the wall. It shatters into a million pieces. The door opens quickly. 
“Boss, what’s wrong?” one of his men asks. 
“Get me someone I can mangle or else I’ll go insane”, Silas breathes out through gritted teeth. “Take someone from the street if you have to — just bring me someone I can kill.”
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You open your eyes and feel how a lump has grown in your throat. You try to cough and rip your entire vocal chords with it. A cough attack erupts from deep inside your stomach. Every cough hurts worse than the one before and every breath in feels as dry as an ocean. 
“Oh, careful”, a voice says and helps you sit up. He holds a glass of water to your lips. “Drink up.”
You recognize the man beside you. Silas’ second in command? Where’s Silas?
“You’re awake”, he states and stands up from his chair after putting down the glass. “I’ll go get the boss-”
You panic and shake your head.
“Please stay.” You’re caught by surprise that your voice comes out as nasally and thick as it does, although it shouldn’t surprise you in the slightest. “Don’t get him.”
“I have rules to follow.”
“I have to ask you something first.”
The second in command sighs and turns his head over his shoulder to look at you. He looks tired, but you can’t let him leave until you’ve had your question answered.
“I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m not allowed to answer your questions”, he says. 
“I really need an answer”, you plead. 
“Silas will answer-”
“I don’t want his answer. He’ll lie to me. Please.”
He sighs and turns to you with his arms crossed over his muscular chest. “Let me hear the question first.”
“What do Silas do to the people he doesn’t like?”
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Silas runs his hand through his sweaty hair. The man in front of him cries out. Silas has continued to throw punch after punch, using this strange man as a boxing doll. His fists are sore and bloody. Sweat drips down his back. The man in front of him has gotten his teeth pulled out with pliers, his hair has gotten cut down to his bleeding roots and nails have been ripped off. Silas had forgotten to gag him at first but the second the first loud scream exited the man's body, all he could see in front of him was your terrified eyes waking up to it.
"Boss, Y/N’s awake", a voice behind him says. Second in command.
"Fuck, I'm all bloody", Silas mutters and looks down at his black jeans and shirt that he's pulled the sleeves up on. "I can’t go up like this. Get me a washcloth."
The second in command drowns a cloth in a bucket of water. Silas uses it to scrub his arms, neck and face while walking up to you. When he opens the door, he finds you sitting up in bed, hugging your knees close to your chest.
"Hi, baby, how are you feeling?" he asks and sits down on the side of the bed.
Your eyes scan hum warily, stopping at his arms. Traces of blood can still be visible in the hair strands. Silas pulls down his sleeves.
"Don't worry about that", he says with an embarrassed smile. "How are you feeling, darling?"
"It hurts."
Silas reaches out to caress your cheek, but you flinch away. He frowns.
"I'm not going to hurt you anymore", he says carefully.
“Why are you bloody?” you whisper. “What have you done?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Why do you have to like me? Why do I have to go through this?”
You start to ramble for yourself and Silas hushes loudly. 
“You’re not making any sense, little thing”, he says. “Slow down, take a deep breath.”
“Why do you do those things to people?” you almost hyperventilate before starting to cough. 
Tears flow down your cheeks. You’re absolutely hysteric. Silas freezes. You know something.
“Why do I do what?” he asks quickly, grabbing your shoulders tightly. “Did someone tell you anything? What did they say?”
You sob and shake your head. 
“Y/N, if you don’t tell me what someone has put in your head-”, Silas says sternly. 
“You saw off people’s limbs!” you sob. “You … y-you-”
“Y/N, enough. Who told you?”
You don’t answer. Another cough attack erupts. Silas starts to get annoyed. 
“Y/N, who told you?” he asks through gritted teeth. “If you’re trying to hide someone, I’m throwing you back into the basement right away, with a fever or not.”
You sigh and glance up at him in pure fear. “Your second in command …”
“That motherfucker-”
Silas lets go off your shoulders and fly up from the bed. He can’t help but feel a deep ache in his heart. His second in command has been with him since he started his ‘organization’ — he’s been with him through thick and thin, had his back through everything. Him, out of anyone, knows the rules better. Silas trusts him to keep an eye on you alone, knowing that he would never betray him … or at least believing that.
He grabs his second in command and throws him against the wall.
“Traitor!” Silas growls. “You told them?!”
“They said that they had to know!” the second in command answered loudly, defending himself. “They wanted to know if you really love them! They wanted to know if you really were softer on them than others! They thought you’d lie if they asked you! I did you a fucking favour!”
They meet eyes for a few seconds before Silas curses and lets him go. He backs away, running his hand through his black hair. 
“Silas, I didn’t do anything to betray you”, the second in command says calmly. “I answered Y/N’s question in your favor. If I didn’t, they’d be even more wary of you.”
Silas doesn’t answer. His head and his heart are battling. 
He notices how you’re sitting at the top of the stairs, leaning against the railing, coughing into your arm. You’ve dragged yourself out of bed to stop him, but you couldn’t get far enough before your weak, aching body betrayed you.
“Y/N, what are you doing out of bed?!” Silas says sternly. “You need to rest!”
He runs up the stairs and picks you up. You’re tucked in again. 
“If you leave the bed again, I’ll have to cuff you”, he says carefully. “I don’t want you running around — especially when you’re sick.”
You’re very familiar with the chains that he uses to keep you in bed. Silas climbs sinto bed and sits on top of your legs to make sure you stay in place. 
“Y/N, Y/N, listen to me”, he says and cups your cheeks. “I could never do those things to you. You don’t have to be afraid of me.”
“You hurt me”, you remind him through sobs. “Even if it wasn’t as bad as you do to others, you still hurt me!”
“You know I don’t want to, but I have to. I have to make sure you don’t do stupid things like this — asking my men about my work. You know better than this and I know that. That’s why I’m helping you get back on the right track. If I don’t, you become like this, all frantic and scared. Why don’t you just let me protect you? Aren’t you tired of getting your heart in trouble? I know you are, baby …”
You sob which to him seems to be all the answers he needs.
“Trust me”, Silas says. “Trust that I know what’s best for you and you will never have to feel this kind of pain and fear again, okay?”
You can feel how your body starts to relax against your will. Silas wipes your tears and kisses your forehead. 
“My pretty, little baby”, he whispers comfortingly. “Everything will be okay. As long as I'm here, nothing will ever happen to you. I'll make sure of it, I'll help you.”
You sob and close your eyes. Once again, he wins.
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etfrin · 7 months
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Feral
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warning - NSFW (p in v sex, no prep, nonconsensual somnophilia but reader wakes up and she is okay with it so does it count? IDK. Ethan is kinda rough, mentions of blood and murder, established relationship, unprotected sex, creampie)
Ghostface! Ethan Landry x female!reader
summary: Ethan was bragging about you to his latest kill but then they say that one you will leave him and that makes him fucking feral.
- - -
It wasn't new for Ethan crawling through your window after a kill. There's nothing more comforting than having your body heat beside him after he left someone bloodless and cold. He loved cuddling after a kill. Ironic? But who cares? He didn't. You certainly didn't.
Today was something different however, his heart was pumping the adrenaline of a kill in his veins but he didn't feel at peace like he did. He felt annoyed, angry, and overwhelmed. His victim's words got to him.
That you would leave. His lovely dear girlfriend who accepted him the moment he revealed the truth to you. You didn't care that he was a murderer. All that matters to you is that he was still Ethan.
He crawls to your bed beside you. You were asleep. He had cleaned up after the kill, and freshly showered. His clean scent mixed up with the slightest hint of sweat coming from you. Your back was to his chest, his nose buried into your hair, trying to breathe you in. Trying to find solace in your presence.
"You can't leave," he whispers in the dark. "You can't leave me," he growls, growing agitated by the second. His hand goes down your thigh, you wore shorts. He slips them off. His hand finds his destination in your pussy. He rubs his palm against it. Once, twice. He was still mumbling about the fact that you can't leave him. You can't, you can't, you can't.
God, he felt like he was going insane. He takes his cock out. He spits on his palm and rubs it on his cock before he does the same with your cunt. Spreading makeshift lube onto your folds.
He doesn't hesitate a second as he pushes the tip of his dick into your familiar heat. He lets out a groan from the feeling. You were dry, he wondered for a moment if you could grow as wet and slick as you usually are for him while asleep.
He takes the tip out, his jaw clenching from the loss of not being inside you. He pins you down underneath him. Moving you like a puppet. A pretty one. He raises the t-shirt you are wearing to expose your breasts. He doesn't play with them much, wanting to get to the main course. He kisses the nipples before he moves between your thighs.
He breathes into the familiar scent of you and spits onto your folds. After doing so multiple times, he spreads it all over your cunt. Getting it slick. His thumb presses against your clit, rubbing small circles. He could feel your thighs tense.
No, no, that wouldn't do, he thinks. He wanted you to wake up while he was buried deep within you. Marking you. He immediately stops his actions. He didn't bother prepping you in fear that you might wake you.
You're his love, of course, you wouldn't mind taking his cock without any prep. You can do it.
He thrusts into you in one smooth stroke. He bites his lower lip hard enough to bleed so he can stop his groan. Every time felt like the first time for him. He lets himself adjust to the warmth gripping his cock like a vice. His hands are on either side of you and his forehead is pressed against yours.
He gives you a small kiss before his hips begin to grind. Inch by inch so he could stretch you out properly. His head falls between the crook on your neck, one of his hands now on your throat. He wasn't squeezing it, but it was just there. His fingertips feel your pulse.
It filled with him relief. You're here, you're alive and you're his. He doesn't stop his sounds anymore, his thrusts having no pace just chasing whatever made him feel good. He could feel your pulse starting to get faster, your walls squeezing. You were up. He grins, "Darling?"
"Ethan," you moan, your hand going to his hair, fingers into his locks. He pressed a kiss on your ear. "You're awake," he whispers. "Uh huh," you whine, your walls twitching.
"You won't leave me right?" He questions, his eyes peering at your wide ones. "Huh?" You replied back. Unable to think about anything but his cock.
He could feel annoyance creeping in about the fact you didn't reply yes immediately. The hand around your throat tightened, just a bit. Just enough for a feel.
"You," he hisses with a deep thrust, hard enough to rock the bed. He said, "Won't," thrust, "Leave," thrust, "Me," thrust, "Right?" thrust.
You could find yourself nodding, your walls pulsing around his cock near your release. He chuckles, "Good. Because the only way you could leave is when I decide to kill you, my love."
Fuck. His words make your eyes roll back and cum. Your walls spasming, milking his cock just the way he liked. With a grunt, he spills into you. Thick white ropes of cum being fucked inside of you until he slips out.
He lays beside you, his body flushed red. "One of the victims was mean today," he pouts. After you managed to catch your breath, you replied, "Who cares? That fuck is dead." You pressed a kiss on his forehead. "You're the one here right now, alive." You whispered.
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steleir · 8 days
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ꔫ MY LOVE, IS MINE ALL MINE ଓ. itoshi rin never loved anyone ever since what his brother did, always guarding his fragile heart with an iron fist, until you come along and ruin everything.
ׅ 𓈒 ⁺ ꔫ 0.8k wc ଓ : fem! reader x itoshi rin, fluff, friends to lovers, mentions of fights, injuries, not proofread, lemme know if i missed any.
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when it came to love, rin was fundamentally a fool. on top of that, he was a coward. love wasn't his passion, nor was it on his bucket list. at least, not since what happened with his brother, love was never an option. love and get your heart broken again; don't love and stay the same. rin and referred to the latter always.
it was a sort of unspoken rule to himself, that he wouldn't love. maybe once he beats his brother, or maybe not. he honestly didn't care, nor did he think about it much, until his mother would bug him about it.
but then you came along, as though the devil, and you absolutely ruined it all.
yet no matter how he likes to think of you, there was no denying that he was in love, infatuated even. you we’re all he needed. but how could he possibly admit that?
part of him hates you for that—how you just barged through the gates that guarded his fragile heart, which was still trying to fix itself no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that he was okay now. that he fixed himself.
“you’re an idiot, you know that, itoshi rin?” you asked as you disinfected his injury, making him hiss and the feeling. he simply looked at you blankly, like he always did when both managed to end up in your bathroom with you bandaging him up after his nth fight of the week. “it’s worse this time.” you stated, looking at him with teary eyes. “rin, you're going to get yourself seriously hurt,” you said as he brought up his thumb to wipe away the tear that slowly fell down your face. “i promise i won't get into another one,” he mumbled, an obvious lie, one you could see right through, but he needed to say something.
“you said that last time, asshole.” you grumbled while rolling your eyes. he hated when you did that; he hated when you were mad at him; he didn’t know why exactly, but he hated it. it made his heart throb. you looked pretty with your teary eyes and the bright pink tint that covered your cheeks and nose, but he still hated it.
“right,” you said, getting back on your feet and wiping away the remaining tears. “i’m done. you can leave now and get into another fight i don’t care.” you shrugged and walked out of your bathroom, leaving it messy with the bandages and cotton lying on the floor and some scattered on the toilet where rin had sat.
“i don’t want to; i want to stay here for a bit,” he said, and you turned slightly. “i said i don’t care.” you repeated your past words, and the tall boy walked towards you, easily towering over you. “why are you so mad?” he raised his brow, holding your wrist tightly. “because i care about you, rin. i don’t know if
one day you're going to show up to my house with a broken limb and bleeding everywhere because you're so easily provoked by people!” you yelled, your eyes quickly tearing up again. “and i don’t like that thought; i don’t like seeing you hurt.”
“sorry,” he mumbled, averting his eyes from yours.
in that moment, he felt like he could just pull you into a kiss for eternity. no one’s ever cared for him like this. you took a deep breath, staring into his intimidating eyes, waiting for a thought on what to do next to pop up. rin hesitated as he opened his mouth to speak, this was probably the worst time to confess, right? definitely. but this is itoshi rin we’re talking about here, he doesn’t exactly care. he held your other wrist as he looked you in the eyes, hoping you’d get the sign, waiting for a sort of green light.
you nodded slowly, and his lips quickly smashed against your own. time seemed to stop in the moment, it was just you and him, like it has been for the past few years. his mouth moved quickly and sloppily against yours, was getting greedy. his hands held your waist softly, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer than was even possible.
your lips are so soft; you know how long i’ve been waiting for this?
slowly he pulled away and straightened his back, completely quiet. he looked at you shyly. “i love you.” he murmured as low as a whisper, but you still managed to hear. before he knew it he was trapped in a hug “for the longest time.”
you didn’t say anything, only hugging him and letting some tears race down your cheeks.
you two stayed like that for a while, complete silence; you had all the time in the world.
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rk1stars · 30 days
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⌞MANEATER⌝ - S.JY
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IN WHICH..
As the only vampire in LA, you preyed on men who only cared about pretty girls and money, thinking they were easy targets. However, your next victim proved to be more cunning than expected, causing your plans to backfire. Now, you must question why this particular victim was able to outsmart you. Perhaps there was more to him than meets the eye, or maybe it was just a stroke of bad luck. But as you two meet, you wonder if you will ever meet him again.
PAIRINGS & CATEGORIES
Vampire Jake! x Vampire reader, dark? romance, fiction, suggestive, fluff, crack at the end
CAUTION
reader kills men, blood, somewhat suggestive, biting?, fighting, cursing, not proofread
STAR’S DIARY
should i make a part two
TAGLIST
@cholexc @yyawnjun @allforhee @ifuckedheeseung @yerisrev @dimplewonie
HEADPHONES PLAYING..
maneater by nelly furtado
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“S-STOP! YOU MONSTER” THE MAN YELLED IN FEAR. You were thirsty for blood. So you went to your favorite place to prey, the club. The dimly lit dance floor and pulsating music only heightened your predatory instincts as you prowled through the crowd, searching for your next victim.
With each passing moment, the primal urge grew stronger, pushing you closer to the edge of control. As you locked eyes with your chosen prey, a rush of excitement coursed through your veins, ready to pounce and satisfy your dark desires.
With a captivating gaze, you entice him to approach you, using your seductive eyes to draw him in. Your gestures beckon him closer, inviting him to step into your world of desire and temptation.
As you led him into a secluded alleyway, a mischievous smirk played on your lips. The anticipation of what was to come made your heart race with excitement.
In the dimly lit space, you closed the distance between the two of you, your eyes locked on his. With each step closer, you could practically taste the thrill of the moment. As you licked your lips seductively, a surge of desire washed over you.
By grabbing the man's tie and pretending to lean in for a kiss, you quickly throw him to the ground with a tight grip on his neck. As he struggles beneath you, you feel the urge to sink your teeth into his exposed skin.
he man's fear is palpable as he tries to break free from your hold. Your mind races with conflicting emotions, torn between the exhilaration of power and the guilt of causing harm. In that moment, you are a predator, consumed by a primal urge.
After finally sinking your teeth into his neck, you watch as blood drips down, causing the man to lose consciousness. Despite quenching your thirst, you still feel a lingering sense of hunger. With a sense of satisfaction, you make the decision to return to the club in search of another victim.
The thrill of the hunt and the taste of fresh blood fuels your desire to feed once more. As you enter the club again, your senses sharpen as you scan the room for your next prey, eager to satisfy your insatiable thirst for more.
And then you saw the perfect target. Blond fluffy hair, handsome face, and big plump lips.
He was a sight to behold, near perfect in every way. His crisp white shirt was immaculately ironed, with just a few buttons left open, revealing just enough of his chest to be enticing. His charming smirk was the epitome of confidence, and his majestic face seemed to radiate a sense of power and authority.
All in all, he was a vision of perfection that captivated the attention of all those around him.
You find yourself staring at him, your eyes tracing the contours of his face, the curve of his jaw, the slope of his nose. You can't help but feel a flutter in your chest as you admire him, a feeling akin to a mix of awe and excitement.
As you lick your lips, your mind wanders to all the things you would do to him if given the chance, and you can't help but feel a slight flush spread across your cheeks.
As you finally snap out of your thoughts, you remember your goal and approach Him with your seductive beauty and your siren-like eyes.
You felt a bit bad for taking away such a beauty but your thirst was impeccable.
As you finally got his attention, you wanted to pounce on him right there. He looked so pure and innocent. Looking oblivious of what you were gonna do to him.
And as you flirt with him some more, you lure him into another empty alleyway, ready to quench your thirst.
IN JAKE’S EYES
Jake hasn’t drunk in days.
He was thirsty and desperate for blood, so he went to the club, his favorite place to prey.
It seemed like he had no interest in anyone until he laid eyes on you. It was as if all of his attention was suddenly focused on you and everything else faded into the background.
Perhaps it was the way you carried yourself, or your seductive beauty, but something about you caught his eye and held his interest. From that moment on, he was completely captivated by you.
Your presence was captivating and flawless. Your skin was radiant, reflecting the light in a way that made you look almost ethereal.
As the music blared, your body moved in perfect harmony with the rhythm, a sight that left him in awe. And when you looked at him, your gaze was intense and dark, making his heart skip a beat.
As he caught a glimpse of you approaching him, a sense of need and desire washed over him. He knew that you were done for. With every step you took closer to him, he could feel his heart racing in excitemen, he knew he was gonna be brutal with you.
As you leaned in whispering into his ear, inviting him to follow you, he was captivated by your boldness. The way you don’t know what's gonna happen to you was making his body rush in excitement.
BACK TO YOUR EYES
As you and the handsome male finally arrive at the empty and quiet alleyway, the attractive male starts to step closer to you, pinning you to the wall, making you slightly nervous.
“ I didn’t get your name by the way.. “
As he chuckles you feel your heart skip a beat.
“ It's Jake, what’s yours pretty? “
His thick and sexy Australian accent made you more thirsty than ever. Pulling him closer, your bodies press together, your faces closer than ever.
“ it’s y/n.. “ looking up at him.
“ pretty name like you. “ you chuckling.
“ y, know, you’re gonna regret talking to me. “
“ why is that? “ Jake raised his eyebrows in competitiveness and curiosity.
And before Jake could get an answer, you pounced on him and used all of your strength to hold him down.
But what surprised you was Jake flipping you over, Jake on top of you grinning.
You find yourself in the midst of a heated fight with Jake, as both of you try to assert your dominance. Suddenly, you notice something strange happening to Jake. His expression changes, and you notice that his eyes have started to turn a deep shade of red.
As he grins at you, you see that his fangs have become more pronounced, adding to the intensity of the situation. This sudden transformation fills you with shock and disbelief, what the fuck?
“ ready to give up, fellow vampy? “
“ how the hell are you here?! “
“ I’m asking you the same thing. “
As you and Jake finally give up, you realize the awkward position both of you are in.
Jake was under you, holding your neck while he was violated with lipstick marks from your attempted bites. And you were on top of him, holding his neck while your hair was messy.
“ you think the guy was killed by a vampire? “
“ don’t be stupid marge! vampire’s aren’t real! “
as both of you hear policemen, you quickly get up from Jake, and grab your bag.
“ gotta bounce, Jake “ you chuckle before winking at him.
“ w-wait! You- “ Jake getting up.
“ good luck! “ before you transform into a bat, flying away from the scene.
You couldn't help but feel amused at what happened. And you can't deny the fact that he was cute and exactly your type.
As you continue to fly towards your apartment, you can't help but wonder if you and Jake will ever meet again.
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honeyhotteoks · 5 months
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this night together - in their hands (j.yh, s.mg, p.sh, c.sn)
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a 'this night together' deleted scene: in their hands
summary: chapter twelve of this night together from the boys perspectives, if you haven't read that yet, go here and read that first.
warnings: every warning that applies to chapter twelve, plus a lot of violence. blood, fighting, descriptions of body parts breaking, ideations of killing, and a lot of internal panic and emotion.
notes: this deleted scene is entirely dedicated to the person who commented and said it would be interesting to see chapter twelve from the boys perspective. i've never written from their povs before, so i hope this still flows well and feels good, but i couldn't get that thought out of my mind. i pretty much wrote this in one sitting and only edited it once..... so i hope it doesn't disappoint but i really just wanted to share it with you all.
there are some things that will be covered in chapter thirteen that are getting lightly spoiled here, but for the purpose of consistency i'm going for it.
pairings: alpha!yunho x alpha!mingi x omega!reader plus alpha!san x alpha! seonghwa
genre: smut, a/b/o/omegaverse, angst, fluff, romance, polyamory
word count: 7.8k
Yunho feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up and the air around him shift just enough to make his stomach tight about three seconds before he hears your scream. He doesn’t need to think through if it’s you or someone else, he feels it in his gut like a brick and he’s scrambling to his feet so fast his brain feels sluggishly behind. 
“Something’s wrong,” He manages as he starts to move, but Mingi is already gone like a flash and he follows at  breakneck speed behind his best friend. 
His heart feels heavy in his chest, his mouth is dry, and in the seconds it takes to run from the back office to the far studio rooms, he starts to realize that there is something very, very wrong with his omega. 
Footsteps behind him don’t deter him, his eyes are steady on Mingi’s back. 
“What the fuck was that?” San. 
“y/n,” Seonghwa, but Yunho stops listening the minute he watches Mingi push in the door to the practice room, the sound of it as it swings back on its hinges and collides with the wall stark and sharp. They take in so many little things at once before adrenaline pumps through their brains and throws them all forwards into action.
Mingi catalogs Minseok’s hands, one sunken into the back of your hair and pulling your head to the side, the other pressing you back into the wall at your chest. His knee is pressed between your thighs and the straps of your top are roughly wrenched to the side to bear the length of your throat. 
All Yunho can see is your face and everything in him is suddenly so full of cold fear. You look so blank, your body unmoving against the mirrored wall and palms upturned in submission. For a single second he thinks he’s lost you already, that the strange metallic taste in his mouth is the scent of your blood from Minseok’s successful claim and something strange and panicked bubbles out of his chest. It takes him a moment for his brain to catch up and to realize it's you, the metallic taste isn’t iron at all; it's ripe tannins, over-steeped tea, bitter and sudden and pulsating your fear and panic through the room. 
Mingi moves first. “Get the fuck off her!” His hands close over Minseok’s neck and shoulder, wrenching him backwards with a curt jerk of his arms. 
Your body tips sideways, but your face is still empty and Yunho’s mouth is so full of dry, acerbic chamomile and he can’t catch you, he can’t do anything. Everything goes absolutely silent in his mind. 
His fist connects with Minseok’s cheek first, but it doesn’t feel good enough. Mingi hauls him back up and Yunho throws a cross hard and with sure direction and then he feels the crunch of bone under his knuckles as Minseok’s nose snaps, the blood quick as he shouts and reaches to clutch at his face. 
If there’s one thing alphas typically aren’t good at it’s de-escalation, and whatever primal release of hormones his broken nose unlocked, Minseok shoves Mingi off and comes back up swinging. 
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Yunho narrowly misses the return shot, dipping to the side, and hands once again close down on Minseok, the combined weight of San and Seonghwa pressing him down towards the floor. 
“You broke my fucking nose!” Minseok scrambles against them. 
“Stay down,” San presses his knee square between Minseok’s shoulder blades and drops his weight. 
“Fuck you!”
Yunho drops fast, locking his hand over the back of Minseok’s neck to press his face into the wood floor and help hold him down. 
Mingi stumbles forwards after being pushed off balance, but then his eyes flick up past the scuffle and he sees you. You’re lying flat on your back on the practice room floor, eyes vacant and unfocused on the white ceiling, your leg bent in a strange position, one that can’t be comfortable but still you don’t move. 
He knows it all at once. 
“Oh, God,” His stomach turns as he ignores the writhing alpha on the floor and the others doing their best to pin him down so he can skid to your side and drop to his knees. 
Yunho can’t see you from his vantage point, he’s holding Minseok and facing the opposite direction and that wall of the practice room doesn’t have any mirrors to guide him, “Mingi, what? What’s going on?” 
“Baby,” Mingi’s so quiet as he shifts forwards, but Yunho hears it. 
“Is she alright?” Yunho can’t wait, he twists around and loses his steady grip on Minseok, but he has to know, “Mingi! Seriously, is she,” 
Mingi’s hands cup your cheeks, and he studies your empty expression for a moment but he doesn’t need to, “Jesus,” he manages, “he put her in subspace,” 
“He did what?” Seonghwa’s voice is sharp. 
“I’ll fucking kill him,” Mingi’s something else entirely when he’s angry, really and truly angry, and he has Minseok right where he wants him in a second. He cuts through the other alphas in a flash, rolling Minseok onto his back and straddling the smaller man’s hips to pin him in place. His fist has never felt as good as this moment, cracking across this coward’s teeth and splitting his skin again, and again, and again. 
The sound of your whimper only makes it feel better. 
Yunho suddenly and with perfect clarity knows what to do. In this moment you need him, even if you’re not in the presence of mind to ask, he knows. He looks you over fast as he slides close to you, relief flooding him when he sees the unbroken skin of your neck. He’ll process the redness later, the wet glisten of saliva over your gland, but his first conscious thought is that he’s strangely grateful for Minseok’s sadistic approach to claiming you against your will. He thought he had time to savor you, and those seconds of his carelessness saved your life. 
Despite your blank eyes, tears slip from the corners and snake down into your sweat-damp hair, and Yunho watches the quiver of your lip, the way your whole body seems to tremble right from its very center despite how still you really are. He drops his head to the side and calls back to the others, “Calm down or get out of here, do you understand me? You’re scaring her,” 
“Mingi,” San is wrapped around his friend’s back, trying to pull his arms into his chest, “Mingi, stop! Mingi, you’ll kill him, man, stop!” 
Minseok groans, spitting blood onto the practice room floor with choke, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, fuck,” 
“He,” Mingi’s voice is tight, “you saw what he did,” 
Minseok whines again, “Rut, it’s my rut,” 
Mingi’s nose crinkles at that and he has half a mind to keep swinging but San’s arms tighten, banded around him now and he lets him keep him still. 
“I know,” San soothes, ignoring Minseok and staying focused on his friend, “but she’s safe now,” 
“I,” Mingi breathes, but a voice breaks through the fray. 
“I called the police!” Everyone’s heads snaps up at the sound of Dahan in the doorway, her eyes shining and terrified, “they’re on their way…. I… I’ll get an ambulance too,” 
“Good,” San nods, “go wait for them out front, Dahan, tell them to hurry,” 
Her sneakers squeak on the hardwood as she darts away, her cellphone pressed against her ear. 
“We got him,” Seonghwa interjects, locking his hands down on one of Minseok’s arms, “San, help me get him to the office,” 
Everyone hears the soft, panicked noise that bubbles from the back of your throat. 
“G-go,” Mingi pushes himself back off Minseok’s hips and San finally releases his arms, “get him out of here,” 
San yanks Minseok up off the floor and winds an arm under him to hold him steady, Seonghwa on the opposite side so they can drag him up the hall to the back office. 
“Mingi,” Seonghwa manages, “please take care of her,” 
He nods once, annoyance bristling under his skin. Of course he will, you're his omega and no one, no one will ever care for you like him and Yunho. Even if you never want to talk to him again, even if he has to watch you go and let you live your life some other way with some other alpha, somehow he knows that truth down to his very soul. 
As Mingi returns to your side, Seonghwa allows his eyes to wander. He’d been trying to look anywhere else but you since he made it into the room, too afraid that he’d see the evidence of a violent claim on one of his best friends, too afraid he’d lost you. He’s never put an omega into subspace before, not even when they’ve wanted to be there, and now he doesn’t know if he’ll ever see anything but your empty eyes when he thinks of it. 
The last thought he has as he rounds the corner is that the man in his arms used to be his teammate, but now he thinks he’s as good as dead. 
Minseok groans between him and San and he can’t help but tighten his grip on the man just to make it hurt a little bit more. 
He groans again, but this time San’s the one who stops dead, “Stop whining,” his voice is cutting, “you don’t get to complain after what you’ve done,” 
A little huff of air passes through Minseok’s lips, “Some alphas you are,” 
“Excuse me?” San’s fingers tighten on Minseok’s arm where he still holds him upright. 
“There’s nothing wrong with taking what’s on offer,” Minseok says it like it’s obvious, “isn’t that right, Seonghwa?” 
Seonghwa’s stomach goes icy and he’s not really the type to get into a physical fight, but this? This is something altogether different. He has him back up against the wall of the hallway with a sharp knee to his gut, and then his mind goes absolutely blank. He’s never felt rage like this, true and deep compelling retribution singing through his blood and he just can’t help himself. 
“She’s a person,” Seonghwa lands a swift kick to the man’s ribs as he lets him drop to the floor, “and you’re a fucking waste of an alpha,” 
“Hwa,” San’s voice is low and calm, but he ignores it. 
Another kick, another. He feels ribs give way to make space for his rage, “Stand up if you’re such a big man,” 
Minseok groans again. 
“You’re alpha enough to terrify an omega,” Seonghwa spits, “come on, get up, try and terrify me,” 
He’s coughing now, fingers gripping the cold hard floor beneath him, “P-please,” 
“What was that?” Seonghwa lands a stiff punch to his gut. 
Minseok curls in on himself with a cry, “Please, you know what, I’m sorry, I’m sorry for what I said,” 
“I’d keep your mouth shut,” San again, but Seonghwa can’t conceive of where he is or what he’s doing, his eyes are so singularly focused on this man. 
“It was,” Minseok coughs, blood across his lips, “the rut, I just lost it, you know how the haze is,” 
“I don’t know a thing about how you are,” Seonghwa drops another punch. 
“No, no!” Minseok shrieks at the sensation of another rib popping. 
“Hwa,” 
Minseok’s voice is getting threadier, “y/n, she,” 
Seonghwa’s hand redirects, a sharp strike across his face as he descends on the man in earnest, “Keep her name out of your fucking mouth,” 
He loses count of the number of punches it takes for Minseok’s jaw to pop and his eyes to roll back, and San knows he should have stopped it all sooner, but there’s a part of him that wanted to watch this man suffer too. 
Seonghwa is shaking, blood spattered across his gray sweatpants, smears darting up the sleeves of his white shirt. The soft skin of his knuckles is split open and angry, and San thinks if it was possible to love someone’s hands more, he does. San curls his body around Seonghwa from behind, but unlike Mingi, Seonghwa allows his arms to be pulled in by his sometimes lover. 
“Jagi,” San whispers low in his ear so only he can hear, “come back,” 
Minseok is still, his eyes closed, “Sannie,” Seonghwa’s voice cracks, “w-what did I do? Is he dead?” 
“No,” San squeezes him, “he’s just knocked out. An ambulance is coming, you did nothing wrong.”
“What did I do?” Seonghwa asks again, his voice small, and San knows he has to take care of things now. 
San pulls Seonghwa up to stand, turning him physically away from the bloodied man on the floor, “Jagi, come away with me, alright?” 
“What did I do?” 
“You’re in shock,” San says softly, “but I’m here,” 
“What did I do?” He repeats, empty as San steers him towards the back office. He’s never been in a fight, he’s never hurt someone like that in his life. He’s not prepared for the way that the feeling of a body under his angry hands replays on a loop in his mind, he didn’t know he was capable of things like that. 
“Shh,” San bids him as he gets him directed into a seat, “I’ll be right back, baby, but I need to take care of something first.” 
Seonghwa is vaguely aware of a shout from the far practice room, and down the length of the hall he finds Minseok’s body again with his eyes. 
San steps cleanly into his eyeline to break his gaze, “Stay right here, just breathe.” 
He manages to nod, and then San is gone and the door is shut. He wants to cry. 
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Tone is not something Mingi has ever enjoyed using. He’s tried it, of course, every alpha has even when they say they haven’t. It’s natural, it’s a part of growing up, he just always hated the way tone seemed to change every boy around him. Mingi remembers the first time he ever tried it, in the mirror in the emptiness of his childhood home. His voice broke a little later than the other boys around him, but when it did it dropped fast and deep in the smack center of his chest. 
He remembers his middle school teacher’s eyebrows drawing high when he said hello to her the next day. He remembers how she smiled and the way she said - Maybe you’ll make a good alpha afterall. 
He started to speak less and less after that. He practiced at home in the mirror just to understand the shape of his voice like that, but unlike some of the other boys who couldn’t help but torment with their tone, he knew what it could do. Yunho was the first boy he ever met that didn’t need to use it to command respect on the school yard, and when Yunho swung an arm around Mingi’s shoulders and said he was with him, he got respect too. No one asked why he was so quiet after Yunho, they finally just let him be. 
Mingi hasn’t used tone since he was maybe sixteen, joking around with Yunho to make each other laugh trying to stay up late on a summer’s night. But an alpha never forgets how to do it, and Mingi just has to let it come. 
He’s crouched over your prone body now, his hands holding your face steady as he tries to get your eyes to focus on his. Yunho is practically a knot of panic next to him, but he can’t focus on him when he knows he has to focus on you to pull you out from under. He doesn’t know what Minseok said to you to put you this deep into headspace, but he knows he should have killed him for it. 
He watches tears track silently down your temples and over his shaking fingers as Yunho begs him, “Why isn’t this working?” 
“I’m not sure,” He answers quietly, but he knows exactly why, he just doesn’t for the life of him want to do it, so he tries one more time with his normal voice, “y/n. Omega. Listen to me now,” 
People respond to their designations, it’s natural, and in a state of submission like this the possibility that you’d be able to latch onto the word ‘omega’ alone is certainly possible. The noise you make is thready and tight, but at least Mingi knows he has your ear now.
  “Come up now,” He repeats, “right now. Listen to me, omega,” 
He might be able to get you up without using tone, but he doesn’t know for sure. You don’t make a single sound in response to his last plea, and suddenly he can’t stop it, he can’t lose this one chance of your conscious mind floating close enough to the surface. 
He takes a low inhale, letting the otherworldly calm fill his chest, the familiar feeling of his alpha tone building in his lower throat and then he says it, “Don’t disobey your alpha.” 
Your eyes finally flick to his, pupils dilating as you focus on Mingi’s face. 
Yunho draws in a sharp breath. 
Mingi remains passive, he doesn’t let himself feel the joy yet of knowing you’re okay, he has to get you there first. He needs you awake, talking, crying, screaming, anything to tell him that you’re here. He holds your eyes steady, “When you’re given a directive, you follow it.” He hates this part, the way an alpha’s bark can make an omega snap to attention, but he almost has you back. Shifting closer he levels his voice more and gives you a clear and present order, “Come. Up.” 
Mingi watches your face break from cold blankness, grief and panic etched into the lines on your forehead and by your eyes, your hands reflexively jerking up to defend yourself like it was your last thought before you lost the ability. 
“I’m sorry,” You choke out, and he watches you start to curl in on yourself. 
He’s not thinking anymore really, he just can’t let you hide away from them, and he pulls your body up into his shaking arms, “You’re here? You’re with us?” 
His name on your lips. 
Your body is vibrating with panicked sobs, and he feels you claw against him like you want to crawl into his chest, pushing your body against his with desperate heaving breaths. For a moment he’s so worried that his own use of alpha tone might have hurt you more than helped you and his mind spins. 
Yunho drops a heavy hand on Mingi’s thigh, a steadying comfort bringing him straight back to center. 
Mingi drops his face to your hair and strokes your back, “Shh,” his body rocks naturally to soothe you, “we’ve got you, we’re right here, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” 
“She’s bleeding,” The edge in Yunho’s voice scares him, and Mingi snaps to attention. 
His hands search over your body, looking for the source of pain, trying to find the problem that he can fix so you’ll just stay whole and here and with him. 
“Here,” Yunho says, stopping Mingi’s frantic movements, “it’s not too bad.” 
It’s not, rationally he knows that by the small amount of blood smeared across Yunho’s fingers, but Mingi’s never seen you bleed before and his stomach knots up tightly in rage. 
Mingi holds you while Yunho steps in, talking you through the moment as you come back to your senses. He can barely breathe at the way your body shakes in his arms, your nails digging into his thigh where you grip him unconsciously, and he hears your fast breath and the quick step flutter of your heart, but he can’t move. His hands keep making fists, he wants so badly to stalk down the halls and find this man. Nothing he did was good enough, not now that he’s hearing you cry. You were never supposed to be afraid like this, not ever. 
He comes back into his body when you pitch the contents of your stomach into the little plastic trash can that Yunho pushes into your hands, the sound of your tight wretch shocking enough to pull him back down. 
He gathers your hair back, “Okay,” he tries to soothe you, “you’re okay,” 
“He touched me,” You manage, and Mingi’s mind flashes with static images. His hand in your hair, on your chest, lips, tongue, teeth. 
Mingi and Yunho both hold you steady while you heave again, “The things he said,” 
“Shh,” Yunho tries now, “you’re safe, none of that is true.” 
“He talked to me like a dog, and I couldn’t move, he told me not to move and I just let him,”
Mingi finds his voice too quickly, “No.” 
The way you twitch under his hands makes him sick and he softens his voice as best he can despite the curl of anger in his belly, “He used alpha tone on you, he wanted you to stop fighting and he said it in tone until you couldn’t hear anything else.” 
Yunho’s hand lays over his on your back. 
“You didn’t let him do anything,” He needs you to understand. 
“I’ve never,” You heave again, nothing in your body this time. 
Mingi’s ears are ringing, but Yunho’s soothing you now like he’s so good at doing and you’re pushing back the plastic bin, but then you slide out of his arms and onto the wood floor and he doesn’t know if he should reach for you or not. 
“I’ve never been in subspace,” He hears you say. 
“You’re not there now,” 
“I don’t remember, it’s so muddled, I can’t remember,” 
Mingi watches you frantically check your body and he wishes he had had the foresight to fix your shirt from the way that it was pulled to the side over the cap of your shoulder because maybe you wouldn’t have had to remember that and he could have saved you this one small thing.
  Yunho dips lower in front of you to meet your eyes when he says, “What can’t you remember?” 
Mingi watches you reach up your hand, desperate to know. He remembers suddenly the moment in his bed all those months ago when you mistakenly thought in the haze of heat Yunho might have claimed you. Rage and sick guilt swirl in his gut and then he hears you ask it, soft and terrified, “Did he… did we?” 
“No,” Yunho brings you right out of that terror spiral and back to the moment, “absolutely not.” 
Mingi hates the smell of your fear and he’s learning that he hates the way you look when you’re scared. He never wants to see you like this again for as long as he lives. 
“All I can smell his him,” 
He has to get out of this room. 
“I can’t even breathe,” 
Mingi knows you need someone calm right now, someone centered and capable, but if he has to feel you shaking on his lap again he might just snap. His eyes flick to Yunho, “Take her,” 
There’s a question in his friend’s eyes but Yunho’s careful not to say it out loud. 
“I’m getting water,” Mingi says, and then he’s moving. 
In the hall his breath comes back in heaving gulps and he nearly slips in a little pool of blood on his frantic way to the locker room. 
San is up the hall, in front of the closed back office door with his cell phone tucked tightly against his ear but at the sight of Mingi he drops it immediately and presses it to his chest, “How is she?” 
“Awake,” Mingi responds, “alert,”
“Herself?” San asks. 
Mingi nods, “Where is he?” 
He’s not sure it’s actually best for him to know that information at this time, but he had to ask anyway. San nods his head to the right towards a smaller studio space, “He’s unconscious, don’t even think about it.” 
“I’m… I’m not, I,” Mingi feels dizzy, he needs to sit before gravity makes him. 
“I have to,” San shakes the phone, putting it back to his ear, “she’s okay, I’m telling you, she’s okay.” 
Mingi can’t be here, he can’t be anywhere. He pushes himself to the connecting hallway that leads to the locker room. 
“Wooyoungie,” He hears San say from behind him, “listen to me, she’s okay, I promise you.” 
Mingi cannot understand how this day went from normal, hopeful about Saturday, to catastrophically terrible in every way imaginable. 
In the locker room he collapses on one of the wooden benches, his mind pulsing with questions. He needs to get back to you, but he can’t let you see him like this, he knows he’d scare you after everything you’ve just been through. He wonders if this is a panic attack. 
The thought that presses into him sideways and buries deep in his brain is sickening. He left you alone with that man for three months. He was traveling, and laughing, and dancing, and eating stupid junk food thinking his biggest problem was whether or not you might be into Seonghwa. He was so selfish. He blanches when the next thought occurs to him. Have you been afraid of Seo Minseok this whole time, afraid in ways you felt you couldn’t tell them? 
Mingi rips open his locker and pulls out anything he can find to muffle his bubbling voice, a sweatshirt and a towel stuffed tightly against his mouth to capture his angry scream. He has to get this out of his body, and he has to get back to you, but he’s so, so angry in a way that feels uncontrollable. 
His body collides with the locker door, denting the middle inwards enough that it no longer properly latches shut, but he doesn’t care. The pain spiking up the side of his arm is good, it’s real, and it pumps his brain full of all the chemicals he needs to focus. 
He puts any thought of going across the hall into the practice room where Minseok lays unconscious. He ignores the little voice that says he would be justified in finishing him off. He forces himself to think about your face, your smile when he saw you at the party for the first time in months. 
He holds that image while he moves quickly, grabbing a few water bottles and turning right down the hallway towards you and away from every impulse flicking through his body.  He stops short at the door when he hears Yunho’s voice, “I’d put him on the floor faster than you could blink. Mingi and I both would.” 
He breathes through the spike of anger as he hears your soft voice in response. He hates that you’re still afraid, even with him here, but he knows he has to show you for you to believe it. 
“You are completely safe,” Yunho says, and at this moment Mingi is so grateful for Yunho’s steadfast calm. 
He takes one more deep, deep breath, and pushes through the doorway with as much softness as he can muster. 
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
San ignores his phone. He’s told Wooyoung everything he can about what happened and that you’re safe and now he has other problems to deal with. 
As Mingi disappears into the locker rooms, Dahan races back through the hallway, her eyes darting down at the puddle of blood, “Oh, god,” 
“It’s his,” San assuages her fears immediately, “are they on the way?” 
���Yes, I told them to hurry,” She nods, “does he need an ambulance too?” 
“The ambulance is for him,” San says, clearing his throat, “can you wait for them and show them where to come? I need to,” he jerks his head towards the back office. 
“Yes, yes, of course,” 
“And Dahan,” He remembers himself, “don’t go into studio two, okay?” 
Her eyes flick to the door, “Is he in there?” 
San nods, “He’s hurt, but still, he’s not safe to be around, okay?” 
Dahan might be a beta, but he’s not taking any risks where Minseok is concerned, not after he heard the way he talked so casually about what he did to you. She nods, stepping backwards down the hall once more. 
With everything taken care of, he can finally focus. 
San pulls open the door to the back office and Seonghwa jumps, his eyes going from unfocused to focused in a second. “It’s only me,” San says softly, “I’m here now,” 
“San,” Seonghwa’s eyes well up with tears, “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” 
San shakes his head, dropping to crouch in front of him, and he gently lays his hands on Seonghwa’s knees, “There’s nothing wrong with you at all,” 
“I should be helping,” Seonghwa swallows tightly. 
San shakes his head again, “Everything’s handled,” he says, brushing his hand over Seonghwa’s long black hair, “there’s nothing to do right now.” 
“y/n?” Seonghwa murmurs. 
“She’s awake,” San repeats Mingi’s words from a few moments ago, “alert, and she’s herself,” 
“Thank god,” Seonghwa’s breath hitches, “and she’s alright? She’s not alone?” 
“They’re with her,” San soothes him, cupping his cheek, “she’s right where she needs to be,” 
“Good,” Seonghwa sinks back into his seat. 
San lets his hand drop back to Seonghwa’s thigh, his phone once again buzzing incessantly in his pocket. He’s sure Wooyoung is frantic, but right now he needs to focus here on the man in front of him. Wooyoung will have to wait. 
“Who’s calling?” Seonghwa nods towards San’s pocket. 
“Woo,” 
“You told him?” Seonghwa surmises. 
“I thought she might need him,” San confesses softly, “I don’t know what an omega would want at a time like this… I wouldn’t know what to do,” 
“You’re doing it now,” Seonghwa corrects, “you’re doing better than me,” 
San squeezes Seonghwa’s knee, giving him the smallest shake of his head, he never was one to accept that kind of self deprecating talk and he’s not about to start now. 
“I should,” Seonghwa starts to shift away from San and put space between them, but then he actually looks down at himself and his chest starts to pound, “oh, Jesus,” 
He hadn’t properly looked, he hadn’t really taken it in until this moment. He’s never seen so much blood before, and his hands are shaking as he turns them over to see his stained palms. 
“Shh,” San covers Seonghwa’s trembling hands with his own, “I’ve got you,” 
“H-he’s alive, right?” Seonghwa can’t think of anything except the way Minseok’s jaw felt coming loose under his fist, “Sannie, did I kill him?” 
“No, no,” San dips closer, pressing a warm kiss to Seonghwa’s forehead, “he’s fine, it looks worse than it is. You didn’t do that, you’d never do that, I know you,” 
Tears pool in Seonghwa’s eyes, tracking down his cheeks quickly as he drops his head against San’s clean knuckles, “I thought about it,” his voice is tight with tears, “what does that make me?” 
“Hey,” San moves in, pressing quick kisses along Seonghwa’s temple, any part of him that he can reach, “no, it makes you a person, alright? He did something awful to someone we love.” San squeezes his hands tight, “He hurt her, he could have claimed her, we all know what that means, okay? You were protecting her, you did nothing wrong,” 
Seonghwa stills, letting his words sink in. He thinks about what an unwanted claim would have done to you, who you would have become. 
“It wasn’t his rut either,” San leans his head against Seonghwa’s, his thumb caressing the back of his hand, “you know that’s just what these alphas say when they try to do what he did,” 
“I don’t understand why he would try it here,” Seonghwa lifts up, shaking his head in disbelief. 
“He thought we were all gone,” San says quietly, “I’m sure he thought y/n and maybe Dahan were the only ones working late. Yunho and Mingi had the back office door closed, I was in the gym, and you said you were leaving early. It was quiet,” 
“He planned it, then,” Seonghwa’s stomach rolls. 
“I think so,” San nods, “we just need the police to believe that.” 
“They’re coming?” Seonghwa murmurs. 
“Mhm,” San smiles, close lipped and then sighs, “jagi, I need you to do something for me,” 
Seonghwa studies his face, he hasn’t heard San call him that outside of bed in so long, “Why are you being so nice to me?” 
San sighs, eyes flicking away, “You know why,” 
The feeling sits between them for a moment, and then Seonghwa nods, “What do you need me to do?” 
“We need to get you out of these clothes,” San cups his cheek again, “and you need to wash your hands,” 
“San,” Seonghwa’s jaw tightens, realizing what San is pushing him to do, “I’m not lying to the police,” 
“It’s not lying,” San presses, “you’re just changing after work,” 
“If I get in trouble for what I did, I’m not going to get caught lying on top of that,” Seonghwa murmurs, “I know what you’re trying to do, but think it through.” 
San’s jaw tenses and relaxes and then he nods, “Alright, but I’m cleaning your cuts, and you’re not going to argue about that.” 
Seonghwa smiles softly and nods, “Okay,” 
San ignores the phone in his pocket again and finds the first aid kit in the cabinets, pulling out a pack of alcohol wipes and gauze. He doubles back for a water bottle and some paper towels, and then he pulls a chair close to Seonghwa to sit and take his hands back in his. 
Seonghwa is quiet while San works. He uses the water and the paper towel to effectively wash the blood away from his palms and the alcohol wipes to clean the broken skin of his knuckles. He works on him quickly and quietly, and he fights the urge to kiss his broken skin when he’s finished, he’s gotten away with too much today already. 
He holds Seonghwa’s hands in his, so much softer and more delicate than his. He thinks that after today he’ll have to take care to make sure he never has to use them in violence again. San thinks the next time he will do better, if Seonghwa ever has to kill, San will be the one to kill for him. 
San smooths his thumbs over the backs of Seonghwa’s hands, and this time he does give into temptation. Dipping forward he presses a kiss to each of his palms. 
“San,” Seonghwa’s voice is soft, “we’re alright,” 
“I know,” He whispers into the soft skin of the hands he misses so deeply, hands he aches for. If anyone ever touched him the way that Minseok touched you, he can’t even conceive of what he wouldn’t do. 
His phone rings again, and this time he answers it. 
“Now you answer?” Wooyoung’s voice is taut, “I’m downstairs,” 
“I had things to take care of,” San sighs, standing and giving Seonghwa’s hand one final squeeze. 
“I’m coming up,” Wooyoung ignores his excuse, “he better be in a fucking body bag when I get there,” 
The line goes dead, and San steps into the hall. He takes quick stock. Minseok is still unconscious in studio two, he can hear the tone of your voice from down the hall mixed with Yunho and Mingi’s. The slick patch of blood on the tile is gone, and San wonders if Dahan had the same idea he did about cleaning up before the police arrive. 
The door to the access stairs by the elevator swings open, Wooyoung looking wild and full of panicked rage, and San dives back into the chaos. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________
For the first time in his life, Yunho wishes he wasn’t the designated driver for everything. He wishes Mingi had a license. He wishes that after the most uncomfortable and awful hospital trip of his life he could have tossed Mingi the keys and told him to drive and climbed in the backseat with you. Instead he’s stuck in the driver’s seat again, trying to focus on the road but finding himself glancing up every few seconds to check his rear view mirror just so he can see you asleep with your head in Mingi’s lap. 
“Green light,” Mingi murmurs with a nod of his head, and Yunho breaks his eyes away from the mirror to watch the road again and press the gas. 
“Sorry,” He manages. 
“I get it,” Mingi replies, his fingers slowly brushing along your temple, “I can’t believe she’s here either.” 
“Is she sleeping?” Yunho checks. 
“Mhm,” Mingi nods, “she’s out,” 
Yunho breathes a sigh of relief, he hated having to wake you up with Mingi every few minutes on the way to the hospital when they weren’t sure if you had a concussion or not, he’s just happy you can actually get some rest if you need it. 
“Yunho,” Mingi says quietly, a question in the lilt of his voice, “what did the police want to ask you?” 
“Um,” His eyes flick to the mirror and then back to the road, “they wanted to talk to the owner, but Jaemin obviously wasn’t there,” 
“Right,” Mingi nods. 
“I don’t know,” Yunho admits, “San gave them my name and said I could give a statement about what happened,” 
“Which was?” Mingi asks. 
Yunho watches your face for a moment, but it’s clear you’re still deep asleep and he shrugs, “The truth, that we heard a scream and that when we went into the room we saw him attempting to hurt her. It was clear he was trying to force a claim and that she was in subspace, and that Minseok fought us while we tried to subdue him.” 
“Do you think they believe that?” Mingi murmurs. 
“They have to,” Yunho won’t let that thought enter his mind, he knows what Mingi’s implying, they both heard the way your conversation with the police went at the hospital, but he can’t entertain the thought that the police would side with anyone but you. 
“Do they?” 
“Not tonight,” Yunho shakes his head, “not in front of her, she’s been through enough.” 
Mingi stays quiet, and Yunho drives on. 
When they pull into the alleyway that leads to their apartment, Yunho watches you start to stir. It’s like you have a sixth sense that the energy in the car is changing, and you make soft, sleepy noises as you come out of it. 
Mingi runs a hand soothingly up and down your back, “We’re home, okay? You’re with us,” 
Yunho watches the way you don’t respond. Your eyes look vacant again, unfocused and distant and when he pulls the car to a stop he watches the way you don’t wait to just step out yourself and start the familiar walk up to their front door. 
He exchanges a fast look with Mingi, and they follow you at a little distance to keep the pressure off until the door’s unlocked and you’re stepping over the threshold. Everything about this is wrong. Not you back in their home, that’s never felt so right to Yunho in his life, but you look glassy and scared and he wants nothing more than to take it away. 
“Hey,” He tries, waving a hand across your field of vision, “are you alright?” 
Your eyes flick away from his, a pregnant pause between you before you look back up, “I’m fine, sorry, it’s just been awhile.” 
He feels heat flood his cheeks, his ears warm. Of course you’re not alright, and he feels stupid and small at even asking the question. He feels foolish about every little thing until you walk down the hall and shut yourself away in the bathroom. 
“I don’t know what the fuck to do,” Mingi says suddenly, running a hand through his hair before moving towards the couch, “I still want to break something.” 
“I know,” Yunho nods, sitting next to him on the sofa, his knee bouncing nervously. 
Mingi shoots him a glance, his eyes flicking down to his knee, and Yunho freezes. They settle into the quiet of their apartment, and they listen. Yunho expects to hear you cry, something more than just the steady spray of the shower, but he doesn’t and that scares him more than anything. 
“Should we call the others?” Mingi clears his throat after a while, “Woo or,” 
“Seonghwa?” Yunho finishes his thought for him and then swallows tightly, “No, I, I wouldn’t know what to say.” 
“Me either,” Mingi nods. 
“She wants to be here,” Yunho remembers the way you clung to his shoulders at the studio, begging for home, and maybe tomorrow you’ll regret that decision but he’s done trying to think for you. 
“I know,” 
“Let’s just let her be here then,” Yunho murmurs. 
Yunho knows that Mingi doesn’t want to lose you just as much as he doesn’t. They agreed one night after just enough alcohol on tour how they felt, everything finally out in the open between them. They had never stopped and imagined a pack together, but they both know it feels right. 
“We’re her friends,” Mingi reasons quietly. 
“Friends,” Yunho nods, “and the fact that we’re both stupidly in love with her can wait,” 
“Yep,” Mingi sighs, “I think we’ve gotten pretty good at that,” 
Yunho huffs, a short breath of laughter through his nose and nods, “Yeah,” 
The sound of the shower turning off draws both their gazes up and down the hall, and then Mingi stands, “I’m going to make up my room in case she wants it,” 
Yunho watches him go. He listens to the stillness of the apartment around him. 
Mingi comes back and you’re still in the bathroom. They make themselves scarce. They listen as you come out of the bathroom and go straight into Mingi’s bedroom. The door shuts tight. Yunho listens but he doesn’t hear the turn of the lock. The bed creaks, sheets rustle, and then all is quiet. 
“What do we do now?” Mingi asks quietly. 
Yunho’s eyes flick over the closed door down the hall, “We wait.” 
Being pulled from sleep at four in the morning is never a good thing, but Yunho would put seeing you struggle through a night terror and a flash back at the absolute top of his most awful moments list. The way it took so much to get you to snap out of it and come back to them, the pile of Mingi’s bedding in the corner, the way your muscles stayed locked tight for minutes even with their arms around you. 
Holding you now with Mingi he keeps thinking of the purple bruises that litter your skin from where you rubbed your glands raw. He’s a swirling mix of emotion, but the worst part of it is that there’s nothing left to do. He can’t channel it anywhere, there’s no threat except the one in your mind now, and he doesn’t know how to make that kind of threat recede. 
He remembers the way you shrank back into his chest at the hospital at the glimpse of Minseok’s name on the hospital room door as you passed through to the exit. All he could do was wrap an arm around your body and try to steer you away, and he doesn’t know if that was even close to good enough. 
His mind turns it all over as light starts to spread in the sky outside, and he feels the way you’re shifting in the bed getting closer and closer to sleep. He hopes you can all get a few more hours before the reality of whatever tomorrow is going to bring. Your lips move against Yunho’s chest and he doesn’t risk shifting a muscle so he can hear your quiet words in the dark. It’s faint, but he hears it when you whisper, “Don’t let me go,” 
Yunho’s throat constricts, his eyes flooding with tears. He presses his eyes shut tight, trying to keep his breathing even and low so you don’t know he’s still awake. The weight of the night sinks into him, pushing against his chest and there are so many things he wants to say to you heavy on his tongue. 
It doesn’t take long for your breathing to level out and your body to unspool and relax, they both feel it when you do, and Yunho takes a shaky wet breath now that he knows he can. 
When he opens his eyes again it’s straight into Mingi’s and for some reason his friend’s unwavering gaze makes the tears come faster. 
Mingi waits, and Yunho looks away in discomfort at the raw moment of exposure. 
Quietly, and careful not to wake the woman in his arms, Mingi shifts closer to you and Yunho, his arm stretching across you both and settling on Yunho’s side. 
“It’s okay,” Mingi murmurs quietly. 
“How is this okay?” Yunho manages, getting his moment of overflowing emotion under control. 
“She’s here,” Mingi says simply, “even if it’s just tonight,” 
Yunho’s arms tighten around your sleeping form and he nods, “She’s here,” 
Mingi presses a kiss to your hair and squeezes Yunho’s side just once, “Sleep,” 
“What if she has another nightmare?” Yunho murmurs. 
“I’ve got her,” Mingi assures quietly, “you sleep,” 
You shift between them, winding your way deeper into Yunho’s embrace, and he passes a hand up and down your back until you sigh heavily against his skin. If this is all he has, he’s going to take it. He nods to Mingi, and despite the growing light leaking in through the curtains outside, sleep pulls him under. 
Mingi stays awake for as long as he can stand watching over you both, but held in their arms you barely stir. There are no nightmares, no subspace to hold you under. With the birds starting to sing, Mingi falls asleep. 
He wakes to the sound of a fist on their front door and the sinking feeling that last night might have really been their last with you. He hopes to god he’s wrong. He so badly wants to be wrong. 
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expirednukacola · 13 days
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ORANGE COLORED SKY 🏜️ || The Ghoul x Fem!Reader
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𐚁⊹₊ ⋆☆
AHHHH! The first chapter is getting so much love and attention! I can’t believe it- This is making me cry! I love you all so, so much! SUMMARY: After two hundred years of some much needed beauty sleep, reader wakes up and realizes she has been given a second chance at life.. only to look like a piece of scorched summer sausage.
TW: GORE + GHOUL CANNIBALISM? + A BRIEF MENTION OF A “BIG IRON” 🔫
og gif made by: @lousolversons
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“Don’t they know it’s the end of the world..”
“..‘Cause you don’t love me anymore.”
As your limp body fell to the brown, dead grass beneath you, you look up at that disgusting orange sky with such hatred and contempt before — Darkness. Nothing but darkness shrouded your senses alongside Death’s eery, cold chill.. At least death provided some relief for your decrepit, burnt body.
You finally felt.. free. Free from life’s fleshy binding that attached you to the mortal plane. Free from life’s troubling trails and tribulations that would’ve dragged like heavy chains on your body until the weight of them became too much. Free from pain, free from suffering, free from fear — Free from the horrible world itself.
…Until some asshole decided to turn the damn lights back on.
You woke up with a loud gasp and almost immediately, the pain of hunger and thirst was overwhelmingly evident in your facial expression. “Fuck- W- Water..” Like a zombie who was ran over by an 18 wheeler, you stood up on your little “Bambi” legs and looked around the wasteland that surrounded you. Nothing but patches of dead grass, cracked and crumbled dirt, and the occasional tumbleweed was all that you could see — Besides the dilapidated remains of Mr. Shit-Stain’s house.
“..How the hell is this thing still standin’?” You rasped out as you fumbled towards the tumbledown remnants of the house, the P.O.S. glass shard still sticking out of your leg like an annoying family member that never wanted to leave when it’s Christmas- or any holiday for that matter. Carefully stepping over the pieces of glass, you cautiously entered the house through the large broken windows and looked around what used to be a living room. Some things were still standing, like the couch, the television (minus the ginormous crack its screen had), and one of the most rinky dink coffee tables you have ever fuckin’ seen. “..Pretty sure ‘Bobby’ picked that shit out-”
You cut yourself off by letting out a much needed laugh and after a few minutes of laughing and snickering like a hippie high on mary jane, you staggered on over to the kitchen.. and that’s when you saw your saving grace- THE FRIDGE! Somehow, that piece of metal was the only thing unscathed from that damn blast! You thanked the heavens for this one of a kind gift that you most definitely deserved and you opened it to find-!
…A shit ton of mold and one dead and pretty large roach. “…After all I’ve fuckin’ gone through, I am gifted THIS?! THIS IS WHAT I GET?!” After kicking the fridge door shut, you went to pinch the bridge of your nose only to find out that you no longer had one. That’s when you finally looked down at your hand and your arm. With your heart now starting to collide with your ribcage, you quickly inspected both of your arms and then both of your legs, noticing how one of your arms was more skeletal than the rest of your limbs. “No, no, no, no..!”
You quickly ran around the decayed bits and pieces of the house until you finally found what used to be a bathroom. Immediately gazing into the shattered mirror, you saw how your once beautiful and youthful face had now become twisted, corrupt — grotesque, if you will. On one side of your face, it resembled shattered porcelain and your eye was milky white.. the other side was just a burning memory of what you used to be.
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After a few minutes of pulling yourself together, and pulling that damn piece of glass out of your leg, you finally ventured out of the house and back to the “wild, wild west” of Lost Angeles (see what I did there?), and began your little adventure to find something to eat and at least a pond to drink out of. As you hobbled around the wastelands of an already wasteland-like city, you finally stumbled upon the rotting “corpse” of someone who looked just like you. He had the same red, fleshy blotches all over his face and his entire body, and his nose was missing as well. You guessed it was some type of peculiarity people like you shared.. well goddamn-
But something else about him struck a tender little chord in your hungered state.. His chest cavity was busted wide open, like the doors of a Golden Corral on a Sunday afternoon. Your mouth started to salivate, your stomach started to rumble, an animalistic growl spewed from your vocal cords.. and you ran as fast as your legs could, despite your leg that was still in its healing process. Once you were right next to the decaying and rotting body, you quickly dropped down to your knees and began to feast.
Dark, thick blood covered your hands, your chin, and those sweet lips of yours as you stuffed your mouth with that man’s flesh and what remained of his organs that once nestled underneath his ribcage. The only thing that was left whole was his heart.. his delicious, succulent heart. Slowly, you lifted his blackened heart out from his body and began to suck the little bit of blood that dripped out from the aorta, lapping it up as if it were the best water you have ever drank.
“Oh, sweet heavens above!” -were the first words you have uttered in a hot minute when you finally had your hunger satisfied — your thirst quenched by your newfound animalistic appetite for flesh and blood. “..Fuck- Thanks for your help, sir.” As you stood up and wiped your bloodied hands on your top, you heard the familiar sound of a gun getting cocked.. Well shit-
“Hold it right there, missy.” That voice.. That southern twang.. That teeny tiny lisp that’s barely noticeable unless you really listen.. You quickly whipped your head around, but instead of seeing your beloved cowpoke with those sweet dimples you love oh-so much, you saw someone who merely looked like him. You let out an audible gulp and reached your skeletal hand out towards the creature’s face, but he stepped back in response.
“..Cooper?”
“..Y/N?”
Your vision slowly began to fade in and out and the one to catch your collapsing body was that sweet, tender man you knew and fell so deeply in love with before The End. “I got you, missy.. I got you.” Were the last words you heard before you finally gave into the darkness once more. The Ghoul cradle you close and tight to his chest — Oh, how he craved feeling your comforting warmth against his own once more. How he yearned to hear your sweet, gentle voice again. How he ached to gaze into those kind eyes of yours; those pools of life that he had to be careful with because he didn’t want to drown in them.
Now, he’s finally got you safe in his arms..
..Or does he?
———————
I apologize for this chapter being shorter than the first one so consider this chapter 1.5! I was a little busy today with some personal stuff but you all asked so kindly and I hope you all liked this one as much as the first one!
TAG LIST: @lexiway121 @onyxclown @hellolettuce444 @leo4242564 @minaxcarter @a-case-of-attachment @hiddenworld666 @looneylooomis @sunnexaltation @coolrobloxkid28 @enaelyork @foggyturtleknightangel @ghcstvibess @haleymaccosplay @classaysstuff
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sanji-piss-hell · 6 months
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ZOSAN FIC REC
Here is some of my fave zosan fics. Some of these I read years ago and so I don't fully remember what theyre about but they we're good enough that I still have strong emotional attachments when I see the name. Most of them are things I've read recently. Literally all I do all day is homework and have an app tts fanfics to me like an audio book so there's quite a few of recs here. I am not the best at summeries but just trust me bro these are GOOD SHIT. I only provide the best. What I consider a good fic: - Takes place in the one piece world (I don't like modern aus) - Characters stay in character or if they do have changes from their canon portrayal there is a justifiable reason from within the story. - Solid story telling and arcs (even the shorter fics) - The Zosan dynamic is kept mostly how it is in canon they fight and bicker. (I know some like when they're soft with eachother like a loving married couple. You won't find much of that here) - Some of these have pervy sanji, que nose bleeds and ogling. With that out of the way here's the list!! Now to my fave zosan fic of all time and ironically enough the only fic taking place in a modern setting: Life is fine series. TW: Drug abuse, heavy angst, depression I have reread this twice and forced a friend to read it too. It is so amazing not just for the zosan but for the genuinely good story telling. You follow zoro reeling from his sudden loss of relationship with Sanji and falling down a...Well uh, path. It's fucked it's dark it's depressing and its fucking riviting. Alot of the time reading this you're just like WHY DID SANJI LEAVE HIM WHAT IS GOING ON??? Honestly I need to reread this again. Onto softer fics to heal your heart after that one: Honor in limits, his strengths in weakness By Hawksbrood
“Fucking hell cook, what happened to you?” Zoro demanded, voice low so as not to disturb the others sleeping nearby.
Sanji rolled his eyes. “What do you think? I told you we got in a fight earlier.”
“Not that, your fucking feet!”
The cook snarled at that, crushing his cigarette in his teeth. “What the fuck do you mean, my feet? They’re just feet!”
Zoro’s eyes widened, looking at the bruised flesh before him. This wasn’t that.
This was just so good and cute. I appreciate watching zoro appreciate sanji. They take care of eachother but in a way where theyre both still them yeah know? I appreciate how sanji is written letting himself be vulnerable but understanding that he's always gonna be crass cause it's just a part of who he is.
come on, come on (turn a little faster) by donutsandcoffee
The one where everyone thinks they’re dating, Sanji is oblivious, and Zoro takes everything in stride.
Sometimes a love story can go in reverse.
I reread this one recently and it's just soft and sweet. I like watching sanji flounder around. The gay panic is great.
a complete guide to falling in love by ThousandSunny Sanji was trained in the Bridal Arts; this does not go unnoticed by the rest of his crew. I read this like 3 years ago and I dont remember much but I do remember loving it!
Part Timer By 8ball Sanji really, really doesn't want to give Zoro a job at his restaurant. Zoro doesn't really even want to work there in the first place, but, well, there’s this thing with Sanji, and this thing with feelings and the whole thing is pretty damn stupid all together. Zeff just wants grandkids. He’s too old for this bullshit anyways. I am sure everyone knows 8ball very well they're like zosan famous but still just in case this one is really fucking good. Also read this 3 years ago so I don't remember much but I consider this a zosan classic. Onto the rated R Grand Buffet by asyndese Drunk fic!! If there was one thing Zoro knew, it was that you could always trust Sanji's inclinations to do a beautiful 180 as soon as he was drunk. Luckily, Zoro was more than equipped to handle it. I spent. 30 minutes. Trying to find this fic again because that's how much I loved it. It altered my brain chemistry. Sanji getting a nose job during sex is just. aaaaaaaaa. Read it. Cannot suggest enough. Horrors not yet known by Trixree
Sanji doesn’t know how he didn’t notice it before, is the thing. Of all the times he has seen Zoro shirtless (in battle, mostly) he just… never noticed. The problem is, once he has noticed, Sanji can’t seem to stop noticing. And neither can anyone else.
In which Zoro has a nipple piercing and Sanji has a Problem.
I recently reread this and the first time I read it I didn't really get the whole gender sanji shit. Now though???? Yeah another fic that rewired my brain chemistry. This fic opened doors for me it exposed me to a new world. Also sanji gay panic is in here and I live for that. It can be pretty raunchy (love that too) Three rounds with a tiger by KobochaKitsune Another drunk Fic!! also in modern times damn maybe I lied sdklfj
Liquid courage, drunken decisions, terrible euphemisms, and texts from last night, or: how to think entirely with the booze (and your dick) for once.
Or: By the time Sanji got to the party, everyone was already drunk.
I read this 3 years ago (theres a trend going on can you tell??) It also rewired my brain chemistry (from this point on just assume all of these nsfw fics rewired my brain chemistry each of these opened doors for me. This one opened the doors to bottom zoro.) Fucking 20k words of just pwp. I dont even know how the author did that bro like damn. Nature of things by stark_black Tw: Sex work and prostitutes When the Sunny docks, Sanji and Zoro sometimes seek out relief in some not so savory places. After crossing paths in town on more than one occasion, the two find they have a lot more in common than they would like to admit. I hunted this down for like fucking hours a couple of weeks ago because it was that good. Stark_Black has a fucking library worth of zosan fics this one is a classic to me. But if you want more content check out his other fics I think they have like over 100 zosan its kinda insane. Coregasm by Yakarmi
Sanji discovers that sometimes, Zoro has orgasms while he lifts.
-----
“You…” Sanji trailed off, gaze turning down as he licked his lips. Pink tongue darting out nervously. “You orgasm when you exercise?”
Zoro clenched his jaw. Shrugged. Trying to act nonchalant.
“Sometimes.”
Sanji’s eye went wide, and like his mouth had suddenly been liberated from his brain, blurted out, “that’s so fucking hot,” before clamping his hands over his mouth. His cigarette fell from his mouth, bouncing soundlessly on the ground.
Bro bestie, the way this put me on nose bleed Sanji. Perv sanji. I need that gif thats like mmm cause man this is good. Ending this fic rec with a BANG we have
Contingencies and Congruencies by PeaceSignDisasterBi
Somewhere between finishing the bottles of alcohol and mugs of beer, the crew comes together to create a contingency plan for something that may-or-may-not-happen during their time on the Grand Line and beyond. Usopp thinks it's more likely than bumping into zombies, Zoro wants to stay out of this, Sanji is just going with the flow, and Nami may or may not keep things legally binding and above board with consistent consensual acquiescence. Robin finds it all amusing.
The damn chart stays in the locked drawer in her desk, split into three neat categories: Devil Fruit Powers, Science, and Magic. Each represents whatever they're hit with but also categorizes the amount of self-control the person has during.
AKA: 5 times Zoro and Sanji had to help each other as Consensual Helpers of Dubious Consent + 1 Time There Was Nothing Dubious At All
Ok this is 152k long its pretty insane. It regoes over the arcs so throughly so carefully that I literally had to question my memory because I havent experienced alot of these arcs in a while (it's one of the reasons im rewatching one piece). I will say despite how amazing and well written this is I had a hard time comprehending sometimes. now I was sick at the time of reading this so that might be why but sometimes the way things were phrased felt like yoda talking. I think it's just me though. I'm not used to big words :( And thats a wrap!! These arent even all the ones I wanted to include I have at least 20 more off the top of my head but I'll save that for another day. I hope you find joy in these fics Like i did I'll def do another one of these as cause I didnt even touch my sanji centric fics or germa 66 or just in general the best sanji fanfic writers. (Mentioned some of them like 8ball, thousand sunny and donuts and coffee.) Best of luck to yall and let me know what you think!
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ceruleancattail · 7 months
Note
May i request for Yandere Riddle but Its actually Alice in wonderland? Like Riddle replaces the Queen of hearts and the reader is Alice.
Acceptance
Yandere Queen of Hearts Riddle x reader
Your back ached.
Standing stock still, spine yanked as straight as it would go. Almost like a statue, carved out of unmoving rock. He expected that of you.
Wait until you’re called upon.
Be obedient.
Today, The Queen of Hearts decided to grace you with some proper attire. You expected a delivery by one of her card soldiers, knocking some strange, bizarre rhythm into your door.
You didn’t expect he would come himself.
The clothes themselves were picture perfect. Every fold artistically arranged with a gaudy amount of bows and ribbons. Everything was ironed with a blazing hot iron. The metal gleamed a sinister ruby, pressed against the cloth until you could smell the foul, heavy stench of something charred beyond saving. The smoke choked you, silver wisps curling up from the fabric, waxing and waning hazily right before your eyes.
With all the ribbons and the fuzz, you felt like one of the Queen’s tarts.
All dolled up pretty just for a show.
The clothes were immediately thrown at you, molten flames sewn into a garment designed to pinch at all the wrong places. Stone grey eyes watched you expectedly. Waiting for your words of gratitude, perhaps?
For you to prostrate yourself before the Queen of Hearts , devotedly clutching onto the attire, tongue-tied with gratitude for his generosity. Maybe he would have liked to hear you stutter, simpering over just how wonderful he was.
It was all you could do not to hurl right there and then, staining the reds and white with the foulness of your bile. That would have been a damn better sight then all the shows the Queen… no, Riddle Rosehearts, insisted on hosting.
Grand affairs where all 52 card soldiers stood at attention, swarms of crimson and ebony parading across his estate. The grand gallows would be set up, blades polished into a steely gleam. In the golden rays of the sun, it shone with a certain grim determination.
A sharp click of tongue. Riddle was losing his patience. It would not do to dawdle, especially in front of royalty. Quickly, you sunk into a shallow bow, a sickeningly sweet smile plastered onto your face.
Arms slipping into sleeves, you did your best not to wince. The heat of the fabric stung, blazing-hot needles stabbing themselves deep into your flesh. The cloth itself dug deep into your shoulders, constraining your movements.
Much like a straitjacket. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony. You were probably the last person in here who needed to be put into one. Every last soul in Twisted Wonderland was mad.
God help you, you might follow suit if this keeps up.
A round of applause. Riddle’s gloved hands clasped each other as he beamed at you. Smile as dazzling as the golden crown that adorned his head.
“You look simply ravishing, my dear.”
His arm stretched out, pinching the cloth that draped over your thigh. Instantly, your hand rushed over in attempt to preserve some of your modesty.
In the process, your fingertips brushed against his, nudging him back ever so slightly. A brief touch could be explained away with a smile and a joke. Pushing him, out of all people, away?
You could feel the anger radiating off him. The searing heat coming off his body in waves, scorching every inch of your skin. The slight tremble in his fingers as they reached for your collar, gripping firmly.
Riddle drags you forward by the throat, yanking you closer to him. Your lungs gasped, collapsing into themselves. Your chest shuddered, trying to inhale even just the slightest breath of air-
It burns.
Your throat, your nose, your mouth were all on fire, forked tongues of pain jabbing deep into your veins. Everything burnt.
With a fury like no other.
Spluttering, your hands claw at his wrist, lips moving soundlessly, desperately. Begging Riddle to release you, to let you breathe-
He finally relents, loosening his grip. Gasping, you clutch at your chest, lungs greedily sucking up whatever air they could reach. It took a few shuddering coughs before your heart stopped racing.
Even then, it still beat rather loudly in your ears. Trashing against its cage of bone, a feral beast threatening to burst right out of your chest.
Gently, something slid across the curve of your chin. A sceptre, as cold as ice. Even the slightest touch made your skin crawl, goosebumps racing up your limbs. Riddle holds it there for awhile, nudging your jaw until your eyes were forced to meet his.
Those accursed crimson irises.
Gingerly, he raises a gloved hand to his lips. Teeth biting down on the edge of the silk, he pulls it off. Discarding it somewhere onto the ground. Riddle reaches for you with his hand, now bare. Cupping your face gently, tenderly, like one would with a lover.
His eyes flickered towards yours, a silent warning.
Do not reject his touch.
Do not reject his gifts.
Do not reject him.
Or it’ll be your head rolling next.
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tsimvkas · 7 months
Text
how to ride a boat — mason mount.
A/N: hello my pretty babies 🫶🏻 need you all to pretend our boy has prince hair back at united for this one. hope you enjoy it and plss forgive any mistakes xx
word count: 3.8k | masterlist
content: unprotected sex and cocky!mason
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If you’re being honest with yourself, you knew Mason wasn’t being called up to the England National Team this month. Coming back from injury and only having played two games in a new team after not playing at all for months at the old one, it was obvious his panorama wasn’t good.
But you were thankful for that. Seems ironic, because you’re the first person to want him to be successful, but more than anyone you also know how much he needs to rest. To stay home for a bit, maintaining his work at Carrington and focusing on getting stronger.
Of course, as his two year girlfriend, you always want him to be called up. You always want to use an England’s shirt with his name, ride to Wembley and watch your boy.
And you know how much it means for him to play for his country.
But it’s only the group stage, you remembered yourself. Staying, training, getting better and being called to defend England during the Euros it’s the best plan.
So, when the day arrived and the list came out, you woke up a bit earlier to make him a special breakfast.
It turned out to be really hard to leave your shared bed when Mason was sleeping so angelical, rosy cheeks and open mouth, his arm wrapped around you.
Mason stirred a bit when you lifted his arm and you froze, waiting to see if he would open his eyes, sighing when he stayed asleep.
You did your best to leave the room without making loud noises, wanting him to sleep a bit longer. Once you were downstairs, you started to pick the ingredients for Mason’s favourite pancake, with ‘strawberries, honey and a lot of ice cream’, like he says.
You were scooping a big ice cream ball to put on the plate when you felt strong and warm arms hugging you, making you give a lil jump before chuckling.
“What are you doing downstairs? You know I hate to wake up without you” Mason’s voice was raspy and lasy, and his newly grown beard tickling your neck made you giggle. “Don’t laugh. I hugged the pillow for two entire minutes before I realised”
“Oh, so you confused me with your pillow?” you faked an indignant tone of voice, and he held you even thigh.
“No! I mean, yes, but I was sleepy” he kissed your shoulder. “Are you making pancakes with strawberries, honey and a lot of ice cream?”
Your heart melted with the excitement in his voice and you nodded, finishing it. “It’s a special breakfast for a special guy”
“I’m the special guy, right?” he brushed your neck with his nose, and you wanted to peck his entire face.
“Of course you are” you rolled your eyes playfully, turning in his arms to face him. You hugged his bare torso, kissing his chin. “How are you feeling?”
Mason shrugged, tucking your hair behind your ear and smiling. You could tell it was a real smile, which made you smile as well.
“I mean, we knew I wouldn’t make it this month. I’m okay with it, it’s an opportunity to focus on training and being better at United so I can be a Lion again. And I have something planned for us today” he shrugged, and you cocked an eyebrow at his smirk.
Your heart flipped hearing happiness in his voice, not wanting to revive what you’ve both been through during his last months at Chelsea. “You’re still a Lion, babe. What do you mean tho, what kind of something you have planned?”
“I got the day off, we’re visiting Portsmouth” he kissed the tip of your nose, unpretentiously picking up the plate behind you. “After breakfast, of course”
You rolled your eyes again, tickling his waist. “Go on, we all know you love pancakes more than you love me”
“Are you jealous you’re not my breakfast today?” he raised an eyebrow at you, giggling when blood rushed into your cheeks. You actually were jealous, being honest. “Don’t worry babe, I’ll save room for you”
You’re sure it will be a long day.
Sitting beside him with your cup of coffee, you brushed his hair out of his face. After months of begging, he finally accepted his famous prince hair back.
“Are you serious about driving to Portsmouth? It’s a really long drive and we would have to come back tomorrow already” you questioned. As long as you have a flexible work schedule, Mason has a hectic one and despite wanting a lil trip with him, you always want to make sure he’ll have enough time to rest too.
“It’s still eight o’clock babe, we can leave by nine, get there around thirteen and only come back tomorrow evening” he smiled, putting a huge piece of pancake into his mouth. “Since a lot of my teammates are going to their national team, Ten Hag gave the rest of us two days before we must focus on training again, and I wanna spend these days with you, uh?”
“Okay” you smiled, stealing one of his strawberries.
“Hey!” he falsely protested. “You should be stealing kisses instead of strawberries. Go pack your stuff, hun”
You tilted your head to the side, admiring his shining eyes. “Have you packed yours already?”
“About this…” Mason looked at you with puppy eyes.
“Fine” you chuckled. “I can pack them for you, but you’ll have to make it up to me”
“I’ll” he kissed your forehead before letting you go.
Mason was always terrible with packing, never knowing what he wanted to bring with him, so you didn’t complain. Your relationship has been 50/50 since the beginning and whilst you would’ve packed for him, he would be driving eight hours total for your lil trip.
Once you were upstairs again, you started to pick clothes and underwear for two days, smiling when your phone buzzled with a text from Mason, telling you to pack your bikini. He hates shouting when it’s not to his new game or to his friends. ‘For you, I only have soft words’ he said once.
Such a simp.
You did as he asked, imagining he would want to go on a boat ride. Mason loved those. It was like a picnic above water, he always set the boat with a lot of food and maybe some games, sometimes just the pair of you or with some friends.
It was always so nice. He’s been trying to teach you how to drive his, and you think you won’t get rid of it this time.
After a few minutes, Mason finished his breakfast and came upstairs to help you, folding the clothes you took out of the closet.
When you closed your shared tiny suitcase, he kissed your forehead and went downstairs to put it in the car whilst you changed from your pyjamas.
“I’m ready” you announced when you got downstairs, only to find a shirtless Mason. “Why are you still not wearing your shirt?”
“It’s quite hot today” he shrugged, putting his phone in his shorts pocket.
You stared at him, furrowing your eyebrows. “You’re not driving shirtless” crossing your arms when Mason only raised an eyebrow at you. “You’re not. Would you like it if one day I decide to drive only in a bikini? I’ll have to deal with girls staring your body the whole drive, fuck off”
Mason tried not to laugh at your little speech, but he always thought you’re funny when angry. “Oh, so you’re jealous?”
You rolled your eyes, pointing to the stairs. “Of course I am jealous, go get your shirt on”
“Give me a kiss first” he got closer to you, brushing his nose against yours.
You uncrossed your arms, hitting his chest with your finger. “You don’t deserve a kiss, babe”
“I’m getting one anyways” he smirked, grabbing your waist with one hand and heading the other to the back of your head.
You wished you could say you pushed him away, but you’ll never deny a kiss from Mason. It’s the kind of kiss who gets you relaxed, smiling and floating.
His tongue slipped through your lips, invading your mouth and making you sigh. He groaned when your hand found their way to his hair, holding you tight.
From one minute to another, you weren’t sure if you were still going to Portsmouth as he grabbed your ass, pulling you to his lap before squeezing harder, and everything inside you lit up.
You scratched his shoulder, and when his name fell out of your lips, Mason gently put you on your feet.
“Go to the car, babe. I’ll just grab a shirt” he kissed the tip of your nose and quickly left.
You remained standing in place for a few seconds, trying to recover from it. Mason can be a piece of shit sometimes, especially when he wakes up feeling himself more than usual.
You shook your head, used to it and his silliness, and went to his car. It’s a huge one and you always struggle to get in alone, so when he came back half a minute later you were still trying to jump in.
Mason slapped your ass really hard before helping you, laughing at your complaints.
The drive went as well as possible with you trying to keep your hands to yourself. You’re usually not that needy, but being in a small space with him for so long was always difficult. You could still feel the effects from his kiss earlier, his grip on your bum and his hands under your shirt.
You’re naturally attracted to him, the brown hair you’ve been begging for him to let it grow, the melted chocolate eyes, his lips that wouldn’t stay quiet for a second, being constantly bitten whilst he was concentrating on the road, so it’s always hard to keep your mind under control.
And not to say about how big he seems driving his huge car, flexed biceps and big hands pressing the wheel. You wanted him to hold you that way.
Mason caught you staring, turning his head to smile at you. “Saw something interesting?”
One of his elbows were resting on his window, his fingers stroking his own jaw. Cocky.
“Shut up” you rolled your eyes. But this side of him was your favourite, when he was happy and relaxed, feeling like the pretty boy he is.
You and Mason stopped after two hours to eat something and for him to rest, before driving for another two. You tried to work remotely, but the sight of his arms kept distracting you.
“My parents won’t be at home when we get there, they’re having lunch with Summer and Mila today” Mason told you, and you tried to look away from how he was driving with just one hand, hoping he didn’t catch you. “So we’re stopping to do groceries and go straight to my silly little boat”
“Bitch? He’s not little at all” you cocked an eyebrow at him, and Mason shrugged with a lil smirk.
“I like big things. You knew that when you accepted to date me” he chuckled.
Soon he parked at his favourite grocery in Portsmouth. After so many hours inside the car you were a bit impatient, so you didn’t wait for him to get on your side, opening the door and trying to jump.
But you always forget how huge Mason’s car is, and you almost fell. Luckily, your boyfriend was next to you already, holding you in place. “Careful, princess” he kissed your temple, and you almost felt embarrassed for practically falling, but the way he always speaks to you makes your heart melt every time.
He offered you his hand and you intertwined your fingers together, so Mason guided you through the grocery store, one hand on the cart whilst the other was holding yours.
It didn’t take too long since he knew everything he wanted, buying a few fruits, chocolate bars, juice cans and some natural sandwiches.
Obviously, the cashier wanted a picture, but it didn’t bother you as long as they were nice when asking him. You love to see how much his childhood city likes and respects Mason.
After he paid everything and you were back in his car, your boyfriend helped you get in before putting the bags in the back seat. The place he keeps his boat is not that far, and soon you were parked, helping him with the bags.
You wore your bikini in the car and headed to the boat, settling the snacks in your boyfriend's little fridge. It’s cute, just like him.
Mason tried to make you drive the boat to his favourite spot, and initially you got it, but it was so much funnier seeing him drive it that you gave up.
“I don’t know how to do it” you rolled your eyes, pecking his lips.
“You were just doing it!” he cackled but let you sit in front of him, taking off his shirt and getting back to drive it.
It was hard not to look — almost impossible, but in reality you haven’t even tried to, eating him with your eyes. Mason only made it harder by flexing his abs every so often, changing his position so you could look better and even putting his hand inside his shorts to put his bulge in place just because he knew you were looking.
When he finally found the perfect spot, the pair of you spent the whole afternoon eating sandwiches and fruits, and gossiping. It was the definition of a perfect day for you, being able to have Mason around for that long.
The weather was really nice, not a burning sun but warm enough to allow you to use your bikini, and your boyfriend even jumped in the water, ‘to refresh his spirit’.
When he came back from his swim session, Mason opened the can of juice, approaching where you were laid in the boat’s sofa and giving it to you before opening one for himself. “Cheers”
The sun started to set behind him and you smiled happily, changing to a sit position before hitting his can with yours and drinking a sip. “Cheers”
After finishing his juice, Mason took a lot of blueberries in his hand and sat beside you. “C’mere baby” he tapped his thigh and you got closer, putting your leg over his. “No, you’re not close enough” he huffed, making you laugh.
“You’re all wet, Mase” you shook your head, but he just laughed, eating all of blueberries at once.
“You usually don’t complain when I’m all wet” he tickled your chin, grabbing your waist and nimbly bringing you onto his lap. “Much better”
His cocky tone made you sigh. And also the way he grabbed you as if you weighed nothing. And the way he was looking at you. And, fuck, his not so innocent smirk.
“What are you smiling about?” you whispered, tracing the shape of his lips.
Mason kissed your fingers, loving the weight of you on top of him. “I have you where I’ve been wanting you the whole afternoon”
Your heart flipped and you shook your head, trying to hide a smile. “You could’ve just asked me before?”
“Teasing is funnier, you know” he cocked his head to the side, kissing your jaw before placing one of his legs in the middle of yours. “Just ride it” he flexed his thigh, one hand on each side of your waist. “I know you want to. I know how to turn you on and I’ve spent the whole day making sure you would be dripping for me right now”
You were taken aback by his words, trying to process what he told you before feeling incredibly turned on, everything you tried to ignore during the day hitting you with full force.
“You’re such a-” you sighed heavily, rolling your hips forward, slowly. Not that you didn’t want to, but knowing he planned this you feel so innocent. How did you not notice?
“I can feel it, you know” Mason chuckled, like the bastard he is. “You’re soaked. Just like I wanted”
“We’re in a fucking boat, Mason Mount” you whispered again, not being able to take your eyes off of him whilst the friction started to feel good.
He’s so hot, it must be a crime. How you’re supposed to maintain yourself composed when he’s looking at you like he could fuck you senseless all night?
He giggled again, stroking your waist and shrugging. “I mean, you know how much I love my boat. And you. And the only way this view could get better is if I got to see that lil face you make when you cum — fuck, is so hot” he groaned in delight, picturing every single time he guided you to it.
“Shut up” you stopped your movements to hid your face into the crook of his neck and Mason laughed, cupping your bum and giving it a squeeze.
“We don’t have to, babe” he kissed your shoulder, and you'll never get tired of how much reassurance there’s in your relationship. “But we know it’s a bit hard for you to resist me, tho”
There’s no way you could deny it, anyways. Mason is really hard to resist.
You pulled up your face to look him in the eyes before putting your weight on your knees and start rocking your hips against his thigh muscle again.
Mason held your gaze and let out a soft groan, squeezing your ass to help you with your movements.
His bulge was visible through his wet shorts, that were stuck to his body. You know he always gets turned on just by teasing you, and you don’t even need to touch him, so it was obvious for you that your boy was hard as fuck.
Gently, you pressed him with your knee hoping it would give him a bit of relief whilst you were moving. The way he let out a shaky breath made you smile.
Mason always likes to act cocky with you, teasing you during the day and feeling himself, but as soon as things actually starts then the roles are reversed and he’s putty in your hands.
His grip on your bum tightened, and your hands went straight to his hair, your chest pressed against his. Mason closed his eyes when you kissed the tip of his nose.
Sliding one of your hands through your bodies, you scratched his abs before groping his bulge through the fabric.
Mason cupped your face, starting a loving kiss. The chances of being caught were low, but never zero, and he felt chills down his spine when you decided to touch him properly, tucking your hand into his shorts.
His lips parted a bit when you pressed his tip with your thumb, and you took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, slipping your tongue against his.
When you broke the kiss and stroked his length, Mason groaned, whined and chocked all together, resting his forehead on your shoulder.
You looked down, pulling his dick out of his shorts. Your mouth watered at the sight of his hard, red and wet tip, seeming so sensitive, his veins turning you on even more.
“Oh, it’s so good” Mason cried out. “So good being touched by you after an entire day holding it”
You stopped riding his thigh, pulling his face by his hair so he would look at you. “You’ve been hard like this through the whole day?” you asked, biting your lower lip when he nodded.
“I kept trying to picture Ten Hag naked so my cock would hurt less” Mason said sheepishly, and you bursted into laughs.
One of the best things about dating him is that everything has this funny and lightweight aurea. Even sex.
“My poor boy” you stroked his jaw. Now his angrily red head makes a lot of sense. “I don’t want to cum on your thigh, babe. You deserve more than that”
“Fuck” Mason whined, biting his lower lip so hard that you thought it would bleed. He expelled more precum, and you know it’s due to your words and what he knows it will happens now.
“C’mon, I wanna ride you with the sunset behind us” you pecked his lips, trying to bring his wet shorts down a bit. Mason helped you, moaning when you took him in your hands again. “You’re so sensitive I might make you scream” you teased.
“You always makes me want to. I just happen to be good at swallowing my screams” he kissed your jaw, hands back in your waist. “But I think there’s no problem if I scream tonight, uh?”
“Pull my panties to the side” was your only answer while you grabbed his shoulder for support, your other hand still stroking him. Mason did as you asked, and you sighed deeply when he parted your wet folds. “I’m wet enough, Mase”
“Let me play a bit” he pouted, rubbing your clit. “Is this all for me?” he smirked, his cocky tone coming back whilst he slipped his fingers through your folds. You nodded, trying to maintain collected. “I know. I’m the only one who can make you drip like this”
You let out a pretty loud moan when he inserted two fingers inside of you, his thumb still paying attention to your clit.
He was always so good with his fingers, and his words always makes you ever wetter. When you started to move, Mason held your waist in place with one his other hand, taking his fingers off.
“C’mere” he silenced your protest, pulling you closer. “My dick is hurting as fuck”
“Sorry” you whispered, kissing his chin and lowering your body. “It will stop hurting now”
You teased yourself with his tip, enjoying the way his grip your waist tightened. “Babe, please” Mason whimpered, slapping your ass when you giggled. Your painfully pleasurable moan made him groan, and you finally guided him inside of you.
“Oh- Jesus” he cried out. You closed your eyes shut, feeling your thighs burn when he filled you completely. “Fuck, Y/N. You’ll make me cum so fast it’ll be embarrassing”
“It’s actually good to know I’m so hot I can make you reach it really quick” you tried to tease, but you were in the same situation. You could feel your cunt and Mase’s cock pulsing together before you started to move.
It was quick for both of you. The way your walls were clenching agaisnt him, so warm and velvet. The way his tip was pressing that soft spot every time you lowered again. The way Mason actually screamed your name when you changed your angle, putting your hand on his knees and arching your back.
You came first, instantly clenching and cumming when he rubbed your clit in circles, and he reached his own orgasm when your walls pressed him during yours.
It was pretty intense, and you rested your forehead agaisnt his, kissing the tip of his nose. “You’re alright, babe?” you asked gently, brushing his sweaty hair out of his face.
Mason let out a shaky breath and nodded, his shoulders slightly shaking from his orgasm. “You might not know how to ride a boat, but you know how to ride other things pretty well”
683 notes · View notes
joannasteez · 17 days
Text
strong!
pairing: roman reigns x black reader warning: explicit sexual content after the "read more". degradation and pain kinks! talks of roman losing the undisputed title (a sore spot for some of you lol) authors: fic based on this post. nothing else really. give it a like, a reblog and a comment. let me know what you think! word count: 1300 tagging: @333creolelady @harmshake @theninthwonder @thesamoanqueen @kill-the-artiste @empressdede @spritelucozade (others who have been asked to be tagged, your tag wasn’t popping up. not sure why)
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the shameless scent of iron bothers him. blood about his nose. smearing through the delicate trim of his mustache. the cultivation of such a great mountain of hubris, shattered. undone and red, dripping easy to taint his tongue. 
the roar of the crowd deafens his ears. his skin slippery from sweat and his muscles tight with pain from the labor of a great defending and the cold. he lays there, pinned and defeated. a rapturous celebration about him, bright and lively but not for him. his stomach twisting sickly. 
the walk is long and silent. his ears ringing and split with an inward disdain. you sit comfortably in his dressing room. a disinterest in your eyes that sinks his heart. and all the words that refuse to pass through such pretty lips speak sharply to him still, through distinctive cuts about his face and taut reddened skin. an examination of him filled with pity. roman's stomach flips again, disturbed. he shuffles to a chair. breathy and his body loosely plopping against the seat. wallowing. you won't speak and he's wallowing. he feels bile in his throat. his eyes squeezing. an unceremonious rise before it falls back to the pit of his stomach. 
a tissue paper tears. wet and dabbing at where he bleeds. your eyes falling over him as you stand between the wide stretch of his legs. 
"you're bleeding...", you state. fingers curling in viciously to hold his jaw still, a harsh maneuvering that forces his eyes to meet you. softly dabbing stains of blood caked in his mustache still. the contrast making him weary. lightheaded. "...and without a title. what do you have to say for yourself?"
a ball forms in his throat. feverish heat over his skin. a stabbing pain behind the eyes that makes him bristle silently. of all the times to be so recklessly emotional. why now? why here? under such a thick blanket of silence and the scrutiny of your gaze. he was strong. he's still strong! so why does this feel like a great diminishing. a breaking from which he can not return whole again. your grip growing tighter. nails warring against the tenderness of overly worked skin. a stinging behind the thickness of his beard. water pooling steadily in his eyes. 
small and defeated. barely registrable. "i'm sorry". 
you near. perfume sweetening the iron scent in his nose. your breath warm over him. "speak. clearly". 
"im sorry", roman chokes. the syllables awkward and new off his tongue. 
a mirthless smile takes your lips. forming more and more disgusted by the second. "are you crying?", words like nails screwing into him. feeling worser than simple little drips of blood. "if you're gonna lose, at least do it well". 
you discard the tissue. stalk back to him with less venom in your eyes. taking his face to hold in your hands. the warmth in your palms uncomfortable. a cross examination done by the slipping over of your stare. an appraisal. your thumbs running over the freckled apple of his cheeks to assess. not to dote. like the inspection of a beaten trophy, to gauge how much he'd fallen into lack luster. your knee slips in to rest between the thick stretch of his thighs, pressing firm into the unsoftened way of his crotch. a slim sort of panic undulating over his skin. remembering the pierce in of your nails. the stinging it brought his skin. he much prefer that than you holding him with such fragility.
he was strong. he is strong! he can bare the pain. he was made to last. 
"my pitiful little loser", you tease. kissing along his face. a trail from his forehead down till you rest soft lips at the corner of his mouth. never giving him the satisfaction. giggling in his ear. 
the tips of his ears grow warm. probably red. "don't say that", he breaks. voice horse and tired. groaning as you take his face to grip again. the feed in of it into his skin tightening the space in his tactical cargo pants. 
"why?", fingers combing through wild hair to rough backwards. leaning over him. knee roughed into the ache of his dick. the spinning chair singing with a short creak as the back of it bends to take the weight of both your bodies. "that's what you are no? or are my eyes and ears mistaken? is your name cody rhodes?" 
soft pretty lips around another mans name. his chest tight. his breath heavy. panicked and vexed and excited. "don't say his-"
your knee presses in. forcing a grunt from his chest. your eyelashes fanning beautiful as your lips twist scornfully. "you don't have ground to stand on..", the seam of your lips faint over his. "...to tell me who i can and can't evoke. four years of good work", the displeasure rife on your tongue. "great work, gone because of some petulant playground bullshit revenge. are you happy with yourself at least?" 
roman feels high. like he can barely breathe. stomach coiling steady with a burning sort of ache. hands tingling with need. resigned to touching the handles of the chair instead. 
"no", he gives. a whisper. 
your brows pull. disbelief. your body standing straighter, your knee still pressed into him. his hips canting with ill-control. desperate for friction. "no?", your hand mushing his head. "no?!", sharper. angrier. "you did all that shit with a steal chair and you're not even happy? real shameful shit". 
roman's naked chest rises and falls. heavy breaths and pleading eyes. his pants too tight now for comfort. stomach twisting about horribly. his cock throbbing in his pants. 
your fingers slip delicate over his zipper. a slow release of it along with the buttons. the warmth in your hand gracious as you reach and fondle your way in his underwear. seeking the hard heat of him with your knee still pressed into his balls. his eyes dim and weary. "maybe the top of the mountain was too high for you", you give. an easy go of words at the corner of his mouth. a slight tremble in him as he spits over your hand, feeling you work him thoroughly with a sweet twisting in your wrist. "maybe winning for so long was too much", voice pitying. babied and teasing. like he was small and unfit. "you rather suffer without a crown, than bare the weight". 
a string of spit from your lips to the reddened tip of his cock makes a greater mess of him. the grip in your palm tighter by the second. warm and unrelenting. the base of his core nearly undone. 
"its easier being a coward than enduring".
his head shakes. he was strong. he is strong! perfectly made to endure. "i held it for four years". 
you laugh. he moans. his jaw lax and his muscles burning. "and now you're a loser", your thumb circling sweetly at his tip. his hips awkwardly rocking into the press of your knee. "the people saw you bleed. they saw you fail. main event status revoked". 
his fingers grow more weary. for the title. for a microphone to plead his case. for the supple touch of your skin. anything but the cold metal of this chair. 
"need to touch you". he pleads. desperate. nearly undone. 
"you don't deserve it", you clip. nearly kissing him. he can feel it. the hesitation of your lips. full and soft. hovering over dangerously. "be happy i'm giving you this". 
"please".
his spine throbs hard. a harsh rut in his hips as you stroke him tight. 
"you gonna finish? or is that gonna be a dud too".
and the relief is sweet. an unloading of his shoulders. bursting and full of heat as he comes against your hand. "go ahead", you relent. and his arms work swiftly. embracing your body as his damp face falls into your belly. lightly trembling. groans tumbling off his lips. 
he was strong. 1300 plus days. he is strong! made to last. 
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Eddie Munson x fem!reader [0.8K]
Eddie’s bedroom was a lavender blue haze in the night. The shadows were only and the streetlight that managed to leak in from behind the curtains was a tangerine, barely illuminating the lumps and bumps of legs and hips under the duvet.
You watched the hours tick by, Eddie’s beside clock mocking as the red numbers changed over. It seemed an impossible task, falling asleep. You weren’t sure why, it could’ve been a number of things, really. Our impending exams, college applications, the fact that your boyfriend had only just been exonerated from first degree murder charges.
Ironically, the boy in question was asleep beside you, bare chested and warm, leaning into your side in a way that was soothing, but steady up and down of his chest still wasn’t enough to pull you into a sleep.
You shuffled, winced when the bed creaked, and tried to find a spot on the pillow that would be the comfiest. Everything smelled like Eddie, his cologne, his laundry detergent, a little smoke and spice. It was easier to push your head to his shoulder, sneaking the chance to press a little kiss to the exspanse of his throat, hopefully without waking him up.
It was a little selfish but it calmed you, the way you could feel his pulse jump a little under your lips. But the boy stirred, mumbling a little, his body turning and seeking out your own even half asleep. His hands found your waist under the sheets, fumbling to push under your shirt - his shirt - for bare skin. He hummed, pulling you into him as his eyes fluttered open.
“Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” Eddie mumbled, voice deep and scratchy, his lips brushing over your forehead as he curled into you.
You didn’t have the heart to tell him you hadn’t managed to sleep in the first place, the clock telling you it was nearing half past two. So you hummed back and let him hold you, a warm, wide hand tracing patterns over your spine, guitar string callouses catching at you and making you shiver.
You weren’t sure how he knew. Maybe it some kinda magic, some soulmate thing, maybe Eddie could just feel the way you held yourself too stiffly in his arms, unable to relax no matter how hard you tried. So he pulled back from where his nose was pushed into your hair, eyes a little blurry and his curls sleep mussed. He peered down at you, gaze aching soft in understanding and he sighed.
Not unkindly, not impatiently, just a little sad for you, knowing how awful you’d feel in the morning despite how much you longed to close your eyes now. He knew you couldn’t help it and he hated seeing you when the sun came up, lips downturned and cradling a mug of coffee like it was your firstborn.
“C’mon, pretty girl,” Eddie told you softly, swinging his legs out of bed. “You comin’?”
He didn’t leave much room for discussion, gathering the duvet from you and tucking some pillows under his arm. He headed for the empty living room, bare feet shuffling, cotton shorts low on his hips and the black ink of his tattoos only just visible in the dark.
You didn’t ask questions, didn’t argue. Not this time, not when you’d tried before and lost, Eddie throwing you over his shoulder when you protested and told him to sleep, that you were okay, it was fine.
So you tumbled out of bed after him, walking down the hall until you could watch him throw the bedding on the sofa, the remote control already in hand as he fussed with the TV, flipping through static until an old school horror filled the screen, still in black and white.
Eddie flopped onto the couch, curls messy over the pillows and he held his arms out to you, smiling that smile you swore was just for you.
“C’mere, sweetheart.”
He made an exaggerated “oof” when you let yourself fall onto his chest but the boy was grinning, arms wrapped around your waist to pull you closer, legs tangled, lips dancing across your hairline.
“You okay?” He asked when you got yourself settled, covers pulled over you both as you lay between his legs, cheek pressed the warmth of his chest. “This better?”
The movie played low, a gentle buzz of dialogue and background music, bad special effects and low light. It made the living room feel cosier, the light bouncing off of the walls, reflecting off the windows. Eddie’s arms were strong and solid around you and he nosed at your temple, a different but sweet kind of kiss.
Sleep already tugged at you, soft and kind like an old friend.
“Yeah, Eds,” you mumbled into his neck, smiling “this is better.”
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saffronwritings · 7 months
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She’s Better Than That - Trickster
Once again, you found yourself trapped in another nightmarish trial within the ceaseless game orchestrated by the Entity. It pitted a disparate group of survivors against the sadistic killers it had carefully chosen to exploit their darkest terrors. Two of the five generators had been completed with minimal effort as it seemed the killer was having trouble with keeping up with Feng. A chuckle left your lips as you remember her passing through your area singing a song about how bad the killer’s aim was. This was the only key you had to the killer’s identity.
You were no trackstar like Meg or the ever elusive Feng, so you kept to doing what you knew how to do best - fixing the generators in a desperate attempt to survive. Your generator was so close to being done when you felt the terror radius getting stronger. A slew of curses left your mouth. You hadn’t been hooked all match, nor had you tried to run the killer. You had let Feng terrorize the killer all she pleased. The killer must have gotten fed up with her antics and left her to find someone else to target.
Unfortunately, you had no one else on the generator with you so you would have to be the one to take chase away from the almost finished generator. You slipped some of the blast mines Jill had handed you at the beginning of the match onto the generator. She said that it was like an extra layer of protection for the generator. As well as temporarily blinding the killer and giving you enough time to escape. 
You ensured that the mines were on the generator before slowly creeping around the nearby trees and crouching behind a boulder. You listened intently as the footsteps of the killer grew louder and you heard the ragged breathing from someone who was just running around the entire map. You held your breath as the killer slowed down in front of your generator.
BOOM.
A grin slipped across your lips as you heard the blast mines sound; sending a slew of crows in the area to fly away from all the commotion. You stayed absolutely still as you continued your stakeout near the now regressing generator. Although you hadn’t heard the generator get hit again by the killer and that alerted you immediately. The generator wasn’t actively regressing yet. Maybe the killer got upset and left the area as you hadn’t heard any more footsteps in your direction.. 
You had peeked around the boulder and something whizzed by your face.  The iron scent reached your nose before you felt the blood trickling down your cheek. Terror spiked your adrenaline and you bolted from your spot towards your planned exit strategy. You knew there was a pallet lined up a few meters away from the generator and you prayed to whatever god that would listen that one of the others would quickly get the generator. 
You were stopped in your tracks as the killer stepped into your direct line of sight and you had locked eyes with him. How did he get in front of you so fast? You felt your blood chill and all your senses cloud in fear. Using your momentum you had quickly turned sharp right and booked it for the killer shack. A light-hearted chuckle escaped the killer’s lips as if he was getting more excited about the chase. 
Blood-lust. He had been chasing Feng for pretty much three generators. How long had it been between the time he lost Feng and he found your little corner of the map? You vaulted over the window in the killer shack. You quickly glanced around the surroundings. Thankfully Feng had not used the shack pallet like the pro runner that she was. The other blessing was that the basement was not at this killer shack. Just a bunch of lockers and a perfect place to loop. 
Contemplating your next move you heard a faint humming outside the window you had just vaulted over and noticed that it was blocked by the entity. A curse left your lips as you made eye contact with the killer again. His golden eyes squinting at you and a wicked smile curling at his lips. His fluorescent yellow jacket hanging gracefully on his frame with his spiked bat in his hand. Blood was staining his hands and had some splattered on various patches of his body.
“There you are.” The Korean Idol purred as he rounded the exit without the pallet towards you. Within seconds your feet were hitting the pavement with desperate speed as you made your way to the other side of the killer shack. He was too fast though and ended up cracking his back against the middle of your back. A wail left your lips as you stumbled forward, catching yourself before you fell to the ground. 
You sucked in a tight breath, slammed the pallet down and sprinted out of the killer shack. You quickly looked behind you to notice you had indeed landed your stun. When he looked up from the shock of the pallet he met your eyes and you felt your heartbeat thud even harder. He wanted you and he wasn’t going to stop until he got you.
Focusing back to what was in front of you,  your eyes darted everywhere as you looked to find your next path. In front of you was one of the generators you and Jill had finished together earlier in the trial. You weren’t really familiar with the MacMillian Estate maps. You knew a few of them like the back of your hand; however this was one of the particular maps you did not excel in.
Huffs of air were desperate to escape your lips as you hammered your feet into the ground in desperate attempts to get away from this killer. Suddenly, you felt a hand wrap around your forearm and swung you to a forced stop against one of the trees surrounding the estate. He had pinned himself over you with daggers that were plunged into the tree in both of his hands that were above your head. You stared wildly at the idol as he caged your injured form into the tree.
He towered over you easily and was able to plant himself in such a way that you were unable to slip from his grasp. His golden eyes bore into yours and a small smirk crossed across his chapped lips as he realized the position the two of you were in. He hummed in amusement at the bewildered look in your eyes and noticed your rapid eye movement and elevated breathing. 
He effortlessly pulled the two blades out from the tree and  pocketed one of the knives into where he sheathed them. He replaced his right arm to be above you and lightly trailed your jaw line with the remaining  blade. A sting of its cut left its wake but your attention was too focused on the killer in front of you. You flinched as he  leaned close to you and you felt his breath hit your neck, still feeling the cold of the blade against your skin, as he whispered into your ear, “How annoying”. 
 Goosebumps had risen on your skin and you felt your cheeks burning as he pulled away from your personal space. It was honestly a miracle that your knees hadn’t given out on you. With the teasing smile that lingered on his lips as he pulled away from your ear you instantly knew you were a flustered mess. 
He retracted his blade from your jawline, lowering his hands and slowly walked away from you. Before he turned around to start walking in the opposite direction he threw a wink your way. You felt your heart hammering in your chest. You weren’t sure if it was from the chase, what had just happened or a combination of the two. Taking a few grounding breaths to try and process what had just happened. 
“How annoying” You could practically almost feel his lips on your neck. You put your hand on your neck and almost felt weak in the knees. You had locked eyes with a killer and he had spared you. He had cornered you. You were helpless against him. 
You liked that you were helpless against him.
You shook your head at the thought. What has gotten into you? Which side were you on? Outside of this hell there were countless murder victims with his hands covered in their blood. Screams recorded on soundtracks. His voice. His sultry voice breathed against your neck. The cold blade keeping your absolutely still and at his mercy- 
You pushed yourself off from the tree and shook your head from the onslaught of thoughts. You were better than that.
Weren’t you?
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