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steveseddie · 14 days

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steddie | rating: t | wc: 3,8k | cw: mention of throwing up | tags: pre-season 4, different first meetings, eddie is afraid of heights, steve is a sweetheart, holding hands, first kiss

for week one of @softsteddieseptember using the prompt “facing your fears”

read on ao3 here

Jeff and Gareth stumble out of the Ferris Wheel and Eddie snorts out a laugh.

Jeff is struggling to keep them both upright as Gareth leans all of his weight on him, his face alarmingly green. Jeff manages to get them to the picnic table where Eddie is sitting without Gareth barfing but when he plops down next to Eddie he scoots away, putting some distance between them just in case.

“Shouldn’t’ve gone on the Ferris Wheel after swallowing three fucking corn dogs, Gare,” Eddie sniggers, taking a drag of the cig he’d been smoking while his two friends were spinning fifty feet from the ground.

“Don’t-” Gareth mumbles, cutting himself off with a gagging sound that makes Eddie sit on top of the table just to put more space between them. “Don’t mention corn dogs. Or food,” he finishes meekly, hunching forward and burying his face in his hands.

Jeff gives him a pat on the shoulder. “It’s your fault, man,” he tells Eddie, who gasps, affronted by the accusation. “If you didn’t fuck off to go take a piss then Gareth wouldn’t’ve had to go on it with me.”

Eddie shrugs, the cigarette dangling from his lips. “Whatcha want me to say, Jeff? When you gotta go, you gotta go.”

(The truth is Eddie didn’t have to go.

He lied about it and then wandered around the fairgrounds aimlessly until he was certain Jeff and Gareth had gone on the Ferris Wheel.

Because Eddie is terrified of heights, a fact no one but his uncle is aware of given how cool and unmetal it is.)

“Ugh, I gotta go,” Gareth grumbles, stumbling over to some bushes before throwing up all over them.

Eddie recoils with a grimace. “Dude!”

Gareth pulls himself together. He wipes his mouth and glares at him over his shoulder. “Shut up, Ed, you wouldn’t be doing any better if it was you who went up-” He pauses, narrowing his eyes at Eddie. “Wait, how come I’ve never seen you go on the Ferris Wheel?”

Oh crap.

“I’ve been on it,” Eddie shrugs, lying as convincingly as he can. “Many times.”

Jeff studies him curiously. “No, no, Gare, is right. We’ve been coming here for three years and you’ve never been on it with us!”

“I’ve been on it,” Eddie insists. “Just you know with other people.”

They both snort. “Oh yeah?” Jeff asks. “Who?”

“Yeah, Eddie, you don’t have any other friends,” Gareth adds.

“I do!” Eddie protests, waving his hands like it will make names appear out of thin air. “I have Freak!”

Jeff raises an eyebrow. “What’s his real name?”

“Uh-” Eddie shrugs. “Freak?”

Gareth shakes his head. The color is back on his face but Eddie wishes he’d go back to hurling his guts out. “If I didn’t know any better, Eddie, I’d say you’re afraid to go on it.”

“Pfffft,” Eddie slaps his knee with a laugh. “I am not.”

“Prove it then,” Gareth says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What?”

“Go on the Ferris Wheel now.”

“Uh, can I finish my cig first?” Eddie asks, trying to stall.

But his friends won’t let him. “No,” they say at the same time.

Well, shit.

“Ugh, fiiiiiine,” Eddie says, throwing his arms up in a tantrum before snuffing the cig against the table.

He stands up and, flanked by his two friends, starts walking towards the Ferris Wheel. As he does, he considers the pros and cons of fleeing- he’s gotten very good at running from people and neither Gareth nor Jeff are as quick as some of the jocks he’s had to outrun before.

But Eddie realizes he might not need to run away when they reach the line just as the guy manning the ride opens the last car to let the last two people in.

“Won’t you look at that!” Eddie whirls around, clapping his hands together. “It’s full! Oh well, there’s always next year!”

He throws his arms around Jeff and Gareth and starts dragging them away. Only for them to stop in their tracks when there’s a voice behind them.

“We have one spot left!” The guy announces. “One spot left! Who wants to ride?”

Gareth whirls around. “He does!” He says, pointing at Eddie who curses inwardly. “He’ll do it. Right, Eddie?”

Through gritted teeth, Eddie mutters ‘if you insist’ because what other fucking choice does he have?

He makes his way to the front of the line like a man stepping into the gallows, jaw clenched and hands balled up into fists at his sides pausing again just as he’s about to get on.

Because sitting on the Ferris Wheel car is no other than Steve fucking Harrington.

He wants to do this even less now knowing that Harrington will be sitting next to him as he tries not to shit his pants. The last thing he wants is the King of Hawkins High to go around sharing that with everyone.

“Dude, are you getting in or not?” The guy asks when Eddie just stands there, an annoyed tilt to his voice.

Eddie glances over his shoulder to find Gareth and Jeff giving him two thumbs up, matching smirks on their faces. He flips them off, ignoring the scandalized gasp from a mother waiting in line with her son.

Then he glances back at the car- at Harrington, who is staring at him with an impatient bitchy look. The King probably isn’t happy about sharing a Ferris Wheel car with the Freak.

Yeah, well, the feeling is fucking mutual.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going in,” Eddie says anyway, sliding into his seat. He does his best to ignore Harrington as the guy lowers the safety bar on their laps- as well as the dread that has settled on his belly.

It only grows as they start moving.

“Enjoy your ride,” the guy tells them with fake cheerfulness.

Eddie fights the urge to flip him off too.

“Fuck,” he mutters, grabbing the safety bar with a death grip as their car starts to rise. They keep rocking back and forth and Eddie’s stomach falls out of his ass every time. “Fuck me.”

Next to him, Harrington lets out a snort. “At least buy me dinner first, Munson.”

Eddie snaps his head towards him- Harrington is leaning back against his seat with a smirk, seemingly not caring at all about the fact that they’re about to be thirty feet from the ground. Asshole.

“Hardy-har-har, Harrington,” Eddie says through gritted teeth, trying not to let his voice waver.

As far as comebacks go, it’s a lame one and Harrington must notice. “Geez, man. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m- I’m fine.”

Harrington glances down at Eddie’s hands on the safety bar with a pointed look. “Really? Because you look like you’re trying to snap that bar in half.”

Eddie glances down and sees that he’s white-knuckling the safety bar. He loosens his hold a little. “I’m fine,” he says, voice clipped. “Mind your own business, Your Majesty.”

“Christ, Munson, what’s your problem?” Harrington huffs out a sound halfway between a grunt and a laugh. “And don’t call me that. You don’t hear me calling you Freak.”

To Eddie, they’re not the same. He thought someone like Harrington would enjoy being reminded about his popular status in high school- even if Eddie’s tone is mocking. But it seems the whole King thing struck a nerve.

“My problem is-” Eddie starts, meaning to tell Harrington that it’s him even if Eddie hasn’t had a problem with him in particular since he graduated but then their car jerks and his words trail off into a whimper.

“This fucking deathtrap, shit. Okay, I’m not fine,” he admits, eyes screwed shut as they reach the top. “I'm like terrified of heights, okay? Which is fucking lame and super unmetal of me so go ahead, laugh it up.”

He waits to hear it- Harrington’s laugh but there’s only silence.

Eddie peeks at him through one eye.

“I’m not gonna do that,” Harrington says, his eyebrows knitted in a way that’s frankly kinda cute.

Cute? Jesus Christ, Eddie, not the time.

“Why not?” He asks. “It’s what you jocks do.”

“Yeah, well, I haven’t been a jock for a while, man.”

Eddie guesses that’s true. Even before he graduated, Harrington had stopped being a jock under Eddie’s definition of the word. He still played basketball, but he didn’t pick on Eddie or the other nerds and now he’s not laughing at him for being afraid of heights even though if the roles were reversed Eddie would probably get a few laughs in himself.

Maybe he should cut Harrington some slack.

“Why are you riding the Ferris Wheel anyway?” He asks after a short silence. “If you don’t like heights?”

Another mind your own business rests at the tip of Eddie’s tongue but he did just say he’d cut him some slack. Besides, Eddie is slowly realizing that talking to Harrington is helping keep him distracted from where they are right now.

“Well, my friends think I’m scared-”

“You are,” Harrington interjects with a smirk.

“Yeah, yeah, I am,” Eddie accepts with an eye roll even if he feels his mouth tick up. “But they don’t need to know that, I have a reputation to uphold.”

“With your friends?”

“With my friends, the school.” Eddie clicks his tongue. “ Society.”

Harrington snorts out a startled sort of chuckle, eyebrows raised in amusement. “Well, I won’t tell society,” he says with a conspiratorial smile. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

He bumps their shoulders together and it makes the car tip forward. Eddie bites down on a very embarrassing scream. Harrington grimaces. “Shit, sorry.”

“Why are you- why are you riding the Ferris Wheel?” Eddie asks. “You can’t possibly enjoy this, man.”

“It’s not so bad,” Harrington shrugs. “I like the view, especially at sunset.”

“Ah,” Eddie smiles teasingly. “I bet you bring all the pretty girls up here, hold their hand if they get scared.”

Harrington raises an eyebrow at him. “Are you suggesting I hold your hand, Munson?”

Is he? Eddie looks down at Steve’s hands. They’re nice hands and Eddie has to admit that the thought of holding one of them right now doesn’t exactly make him want to jump off this car.

It makes his heat build in his cheeks actually. “Fuck off, no, I’m-”

“Because I would,” Harrington interjects, “if you wanted me to.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide. “I- uh. You- no, you wouldn’t.”

Harrington tilts his head, watching Eddie with a mixture of amusement and something else. If Eddie didn’t know any better he’d say Harrington finds it endearing- how nervous Eddie is. What the hot fuck?

Harrington holds out his hand, palm up, in the space between them.

Eddie can only stare at it like it’s going to bite him or like Harrington is going to jerk it back and laugh at him for falling for the joke. He does neither. He wiggles his fingers and Eddie, who might be oxygen-deprived from the height, lets go of the bar with one hand, wipes it on his jeans, and grabs Harrington’s.

He links their fingers together loosely and gives Eddie a little half-smirk, half-smile that he bets left a girl or two giggling back in the day. Right now it makes Eddie’s heart stutter in a wildly different way than being this far from the ground does.

The ground, which is currently far, far away. Shit. The reminder makes him grip Harrington’s hand tighter and it’s really nice- warm and soft instead of cold and hard like the safety bar. Eddie looks down at their joined hands, and focuses on that- on how big Steve’s hand is and how many freckles are dusted over the back of it, how he doesn’t seem to mind that Eddie’s rings are probably digging painfully into his skin with how hard he’s holding on to him.

“Better?”

“Yeah,” Eddie admits with a shaky laugh. “Um, thanks, man, for not laughing and like, not being a dick about this.”

“Yeah, well, I’m trying to be less of a dick these days.”

“And how’s that working out for ya?”

Harrington’s nose scrunches up. “I’m alone at the Ferris Wheel, Eddie, so what do you think?”

Eddie chuckles. “Oh, so what am I? Chopped liver?”

“No!” Harrington counters quickly. “Just not who I thought I’d end up riding the Ferris Wheel with.”

“Oh how you wound me, Steve,” Eddie says with an exaggerated pout.

“Shut up, you’re the one who’s wounding me,” he says playfully, using his free hand to gesture at where his other one is still trapped by Eddie’s. “Think you’re cutting off circulation to my hand.”

Eddie loosens his hold a little, his cheeks pinking up again. “Fuck, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Steve says, giving it a squeeze. “Robin and I went to see this gross movie once called The Thing and I’m pretty sure I almost lost all my fingers from how hard she was gripping my hand.”

Eddie blinks. “Robin Buckley? From band?” He asks and Steve nods. “I didn’t know you two were friends or is it- are you two like-”

Jesus, why do you even care, Munson? Talk about minding your own business.

“Oh no,” Steve replies even if Eddie didn’t finish the question. “I love Robin, but she’s just my friend. My best friend. It’s tectonic.”

Eddie tilts his head. “Do- do you mean platonic?”

“Yeah, that,” Steve says, snapping his fingers and shooting a single finger gun in his direction. “She’s actually down there somewhere with- um, with someone else.”

“Oh, Steve,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “You’re third-wheeling your band nerd best friend? How the mighty have fallen truly.”

Steve groans, throwing his head back but not before Eddie sees how his mouth twitches. “It gets worse, dude. I’m also here babysitting a bunch of fourteen-year-olds who are also nerds. Except for Max, she’s cool, she doesn’t play that- dorks and dweebs game the others are obsessed with.”

“Hold on, I’m sorry, do you mean Dungeons and Dragons?” Eddie sputters, trying to wrap his head around everything he’s learning about Steve- horror movie enjoyer, nerd-sympathizer, a babysitter who sort of knows what Dungeons and Dragons is.

Steve purses his lips. “I think I like my name better.”

“Sure, buddy,” Eddie says with a snort. “Well, I’m sorry to inform you that I run an after-school club for that game so by hanging out with me your cool-o-meter just took an even bigger nose dive.”

“Well, goddamn it, Munson,” Steve says jokingly.

“Bet you wish you got stuck with a pretty girl instead of me, huh, big boy?”

Steve falters at the name that truth be told slipped out of Eddie’s mouth without him realizing. A slight pink tinge shades his cheeks.

It’s nothing compared to the deep shade of red Eddie’s cheeks turn when Steve says, “Actually being stuck with a pretty boy is fine by me.”

A nearly hysterical laugh rushes from Eddie’s lips before he can help it. “A pretty- uh. What?” His heart is doing summersaults in his chest and Eddie tries hard to get it to calm down. Steve could be fucking with him. Fuck, is he? “Are you- Steve. Harrington. Are you fucking with me? ‘Cause you might’ve graduated and you might not be a jock anymore but I know you know what your teammates called me, man, you know I’m- and you fucking with me like that is not cool-”

“Woah, Eddie, hey. I’m not,” Steve assures him, pretty brown eyes wide like a startled deer. “It’s true, okay? You are pretty.”

Oh.

An ugly strangled noise escapes Eddie. “Oh. Okay. Uh.”

Steve runs a hand through his hair and shifts nervously in the seat. “Fuck, just forget I said that, I didn’t want to make things weird, okay? Just- yeah, forget it.”

“Who says I want to?”

Steve’s eyebrows meet in the middle. Cute, Eddie thinks again. Oh, maybe it was the time after all. “Um, your face, man? You look like I splashed you with water and then threw a toaster at you or something.”

“That’s- that’s actually a good way to describe how I feel, yeah,” Eddie agrees. Steve cringes slightly. “Not in a bad way! I’m just surprised! I didn’t know you-” liked boys? liked freaks? liked me?

Whatever he means, Steve gets it. “Yeah, I do,” he says, the tips of his ears turning pink. “It’s fine if you don’t or whatever-”

Eddie opens his mouth to assure him he does in fact like boys and freaks and Steve who might be a freak himself if this Ferris Wheel ride has taught Eddie anything-

Before he can though the Ferris Wheel screeches to a halt, their car rocking in place at the top.

“Why- why are we stopping? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Steve says, squeezing Eddie’s hand. “It’s the last spin, they’re probably gonna stop each cart at the top for a few minutes.”

Eddie whines pathetically. “What? Why?”

“So people can watch the sunset? Make out?” Steve blushes. “Or something.”

The wind picks up and makes the car rock back and forth and Eddie groans. “Fucking great!”

“Hey, what do you need?” Steve asks, rubbing his thumb over the back of Eddie’s hand. It’s almost enough to distract him from being stuck at the top. Almost.

“To be back on solid ground? Or a distraction. Please distract me, Stevie,” Eddie says, feeling panic bubbling up inside him. He doesn’t even notice when the nickname slips out.

Steve’s eyes flick over his face looking for something. He either finds it or gives up. Either way, he takes a deep breath. “Please don’t punch me for this.”

“Punch you for-”

The last word dies in Eddie’s throat because Steve leans in and presses a kiss to his mouth, effectively shutting him up.

For a beat, neither of them does anything. Then Steve’s free hand cups Eddie’s cheek and he moves his lips. Eddie makes a soft, needy noise in the back of his throat, his eyelids fluttering shut, and then he’s kissing Steve back.

It’s a slow and lazy kiss but it’s enough to make Eddie forget where he is or that he’s supposed to be panicking. He even lets go of the safety bar just so he can get his fingers in Steve’s hair.

They don’t break apart until the Ferris Wheel starts moving again, their car making its way down so they can finally get off this stupid thing.

(Though it might be starting to grow on Eddie. Just a little.)

When they stop again so that the people in the next car can have their go at the top, Eddie’s stomach merely swoops and it might have more to do with the way Steve licks his pink, wet lips than with anything else.

“Well, that’s one way to distract someone,” Eddie says, his voice coming out a little breathless. “Thanks, Stevie.”

Steve snorts, hanging a hand from his neck. “Thanks for not punching me.”

“I’m a lover, not a fighter, baby,” Eddie says and watches delightedly how a flush creeps up Steve’s cheeks at the pet name. “I’d never punch you, your face is too pretty for that.”

A startled laugh tumbles from Steve’s lips. “So I could kiss you again?”

“I could be persuaded to do that again, yeah.” Eddie tilts his head, eyes darting a little anxiously over Steve’s face. “First I gotta know if this is like a ‘what happens in the Ferris Wheel stays in the Ferris Wheel’ kind of thing, you know?”

“Nah,” Steve says with a smile that edges on soft. “I was actually gonna drag you with me to the Hoop Shot game after this. Impress you a little.”

“Oh yeah?” Eddie asks, grinning widely. “Gonna impress me with your jock moves?”

“Mhm. By winning you a stuffed animal too.”

Eddie clicks his tongue. “Stevie, Stevie, Stevie, I told you, I have a reputation to uphold-”

“With society, yeah, yeah. Don’t worry, I’ll get you something metal like a bat! Or a dragon.”

“Hm,” Eddie taps his finger against his chin. “Get me both and it’s a deal!”

Steve’s eyes twinkle. “Does that mean I get two kisses?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Eddie says, pitching his voice low and deep. Steve’s eyes widen slightly. “You can have way more than that.”

They’re almost at the bottom now which is probably why Steve doesn’t lean in for another kiss right then and there when it’s clear that he wants to. This close to the ground, people could see and the last thing they want is an angry mob waiting for them at the bottom.

They’re happy to just hold hands for what’s left of the ride. Despite Eddie not being scared anymore, neither of them considers letting go, not until the guy from before yanks the safety bar off their laps, stares curiously at their clasped hands for a second before his expression turns bored again, and waves them out of the car.

Eddie climbs out and jogs down the steps, past the people waiting in line. His eyes dart over the people hanging around the Ferris Wheel, looking for Gareth and Jeff but his friends must’ve gotten bored and wandered off at some point because they’re nowhere to be seen. Whatever, he was gonna ditch them to hang out with Steve anyway.

But Steve gets the wrong idea when he sees Eddie scanning the crowd. He scruffs his Nike against the ground and hangs a hand from his neck. “It’s okay if you wanna find your friends-”

“Fuck, no,” Eddie says quickly. “They’re big boys, they can get home on their own. Or not and it serves them right for forcing me to go on that deathtrap!”

“Oh, come on,” Steve says with a playful grin.

“Fine, I guess it wasn’t that bad,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes, the corners of his mouth ticking up. “What about you? You don’t have to find your baby nerds and make sure they’re okay?”

“Nope, those shitheads can take care of themselves,” Steve says. “I have more important things to do.”

“Like me?” Eddie asks with a ridiculous waggle of his eyebrows. It makes Steve tip his head back with a laugh. Eddie’s eyes zero in on the moles in the column on his neck, thoughts drifting to wanting to kiss every single one of them.

“Maybe later,” he tells Eddie with a wink. His stomach swoops and this time it has nothing to do with gravity and heights. “C’mon, man, let’s get you that bat.”

Eddie holds his finger up, wagging it in front of Steve’s face. “And the dragon!” Eddie says, getting all up in Steve’s space as he starts walking in the direction of the Hoop Shot game. “Don’t forget the dragon!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Munson.”

(Steve gets him the bat. And the dragon. And cotton candy. And later follows Eddie home after dropping off his herd of fourteen-year-olds. Eddie lets him have two kisses and more just like he promised.)

(And he rides more than just the Ferris Wheel that day.)

#soft steddie september #softsteddieseptember #steddie #steddie fic #stranger things fic #stranger things #i'm a day late for this week but i was sick for three days and couldn't do more than watch Netflix so i hope i can be forgiven #i've always wanted to write a different first meeting and i finally did woohoo #steve harrington #eddie munson #monse writes

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retrievablememories · 11 months

Text

cherry bomb | part 2 | jungkook (m)

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

summary: after your town goes into lockdown because of the cherry bomb massacre, you find out that the murderer's interest is on you. eventually, you’re left with no choice but to face him.

genre: horror/slasher, angst, smut, college!au

word count: 13.7k

warnings: major character deaths, gaslighting, hallucinations, anxiety/paranoia, grief, trauma, violence (including knife and gun use), torture, blood, gore, descriptions of dead bodies, a funeral scene, fuckboy!JK, oral (fem receiving), fingering, finger-sucking, handjob, cumplay(?), hair-pulling

a/n: this part is quite rougher than the first, so heed the warnings. same notes as the last part—not meant to be entirely realistic since this *is* a slasher. block/filter as needed. i didn’t mention this in part 1 but this fic is not set in present day; more like somewhere in the 2000s? i don’t think this fic would work as well with all this advanced technology/the prevalence of social media now

...also, i had this story all written out and then decided to completely change the plot at the last minute because i figured out a way to write the original plot i had wanted to do from the beginning. 💀 yeah…just leave your thoughts below

taglist is at the very bottom of the fic—for some reason i wasn't able to tag everyone who requested, so please reblog this fic so folks can see it

sources for the fic dividers: one | two

link to part 1

you’re standing in front of some stranger’s house in the early hours of the morning, your body heavy from exhaustion as your adrenaline has run out. this is not at all how you expected your night to end when you left your dorm hours ago. it must’ve taken at least 40 minutes to get to this house, and you’re less familiar with this part of town, which you try not to feel uneasy about. you suppose the farther away from the scene of the carnage, the better.

jungkook bangs on the door, calling out the name yoongi-hyung until the porch light comes on. though it’s illogical, you’re tense with apprehension that the murderer could somehow appear at any moment, and you hope whoever yoongi is lets the both of you in soon. so much for no longer looking over your shoulder.

a man with hair just as long as jungkook’s answers the door, looking disheveled and annoyed. “why the fuck are you banging down my door at nearly 2 am—"

yoongi stops speaking as he eyes the both of you up and down, his gaze going from the bite mark bruises you left on jungkook’s neck to the dried blood on your face to the bullet holes in jungkook’s car. his expression is between surprise and curiosity. “what the fuck is going on here?”

“can we talk inside?” jungkook says, though he doesn’t wait for an invitation before pushing his way past the other man and stepping inside.

“uh…hi. sorry.” you step inside too, glad to not be out in the open anymore.

yoongi takes another look outside the door at the state of jungkook’s car before closing and locking it. “mind explaining this shit? i thought you were going to that party you told me about?

“i did,” jungkook says, his voice full of frustration. “the fucking killer showed up at the party.”

“the fuck are you talking about?”

“you know what i’m talking about. that werewolf-masked freak? he came and just started stabbing people to death. we watched him shoot a fraternity member in front of us, dude. that’s why my car looks the way it does.”

“the campus is probably dangerous,” you add. “that’s why we came here. we just need somewhere safe to stay for the night.”

yoongi goes to the window and draws back the curtain. he peeks out the small holes in the side of the blinds rather than pushing the blinds down to look outside. “and you’re certain he didn’t follow you here? i thought he only killed virgins anyway. why the hell was he shooting at you?” then yoongi turns away from the window and looks at you. “oh. is this why?”

feeling put on the spot, you blurt out: “look, i don’t think that matters much anymore. he seemed to be killing anybody who was in his way.”

“and he was on foot the whole time, so there’s no way he could’ve followed us,” jungkook adds.

yoongi shakes his head and walks away from the window. “whole town is fucked, then. come on.”

you’re relieved to be able to scrub the blood off your face and change into fresh clothes. you initially thought it was peculiar that yoongi had spare clothes ready for you to wear until he alluded to keeping them on hand for any of jungkook’s hookups that he brings over.

“sure—of course.” you’d just nodded and tried not to look embarrassed as you accepted the clothes.

even after showering you don’t feel entirely clean, though. you think it might be impossible to return to feeling anything like your former self after tonight.

the couch has a pull-out bed, so it’s not as uncomfortable as it would be just sleeping on a regular sofa, which you are grateful for. you’re still arranging the pillow and blankets when jungkook walks into the room holding his own bedding.

“i think i should sleep here,” he says.

“there’s no room on the couch for the both of us,” you protest, thinking he means to take your spot.

“i mean on the floor. earlier, you didn’t seem like you wanted to be left alone in here.”

“oh.” you try to take the edge out of your voice; it’s hard to be polite when you’re still so overwhelmed with stress. “that’ll be uncomfortable though.”

jungkook just waves his hand and dumps his pillow and blanket on the floor before going to push the coffee table out of the way. “doesn’t really matter, i think we’ve been through worse tonight than sleeping on a hard floor…”

“thanks,” you say quietly, watching him spread his blanket out on the ground. you want to say something else, but you can’t think of anything.

“it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

after a few more moments of staring at jungkook as he arranges his sleeping area, you finally ask, “i was wondering how’d you meet yoongi? he doesn’t seem like he’s a college student. i’ve never seen him around our campus, at least.”

“he isn’t. he works as a music producer, so he’s out of town a lot, but this is his homebase. as for how we met—it’s a long story. he and my brother actually used to know each other, so…” you think he’ll explain further, but he just shakes his head. “but he’s a good friend.”

“i see. a music producer…nice. how cool for a little town like this.”

after everything is to his liking, jungkook gets under the blanket. “tonight was a lot, so try to get some sleep.”

you nod and turn the lamp off, though you’re doubting you’ll get any peace tonight. “yeah…you too.”

SATURDAY MORNING, NOV 4

you wake up around 11 a.m. on a strange couch wearing strange clothes in a strange room. with your brain’s half-conscious state, your terror reawakens; you think maybe you’ve been kidnapped by the murderer and the car ride with jungkook last night was a dream—until yoongi pops into your mind.

you try to regulate your breathing and settle back beneath the blanket, though you know you won’t be going back to sleep.

you haven’t gotten more than an hour of sleep in total, broken up into 20-minute intervals across the hours. every time you’ve tried to close your eyes and drift off, you see the frat member’s skull bursting apart again, shocking your entire nervous system. you can think of nothing but the piles of bodies and the deaths you witnessed. perhaps it’s better that you don’t sleep; you figure your dreams wouldn’t be any more tolerable than your thoughts.

as you shift around on the couch, your whole body screams with soreness. your arms, your ribs, your sides, your legs, and—to a lesser extent—even between your thighs where jungkook was last night.

you glance over and see that he’s still sprawled on the floor, blanket halfway kicked off. he’s actually awake, his face turned away from you as he blinks slowly and stares at nothing, but he doesn’t say anything and so neither do you. with you spending most of your night awake, you saw that he was able to get more rest than you did. lucky him.

it hurts to move, but you reach for your phone and check for any signs of lorelai. none. there is one text from camille, sent 40 minutes ago.

➤ camille: I talked to Lorelai’s sister. She went to go see about a missing persons report. The police took her information but didn’t seem very concerned about it and said she might have just stayed the night with other friends after the party. Apparently a lot of others had the same idea as you. Campus is a ghost town. They’re still identifying all the bodies, so no word yet.

➤ y/n: so we just have to sit here and wait to see if she’ll turn up alive or dead? that’s useless.

➤ camille: As per fucking usual with the pigs.

➤ camille: She also told me there’s supposed to be a lockdown or something. It’s on the news.

➤ y/n: a lockdown???

looking around the room, you spot the TV remote sitting on yoongi’s coffee table a few feet away. you try to sit up, but it takes you a couple minutes longer than you anticipate because of the pain. jungkook notices the movement from the corner of his eye and turns to look at you. “what are you doing?”

“tryna get the remote.”

jungkook grabs it and hands it to you, and you turn the TV to one of the local news channels.

➤ camille: They’re telling people not to leave their homes for anything non-essential while they search for him. Not sure how long that’s supposed to last. I guess now they wanna get serious about this fucking killer? Too late for that.

you and jungkook watch as the newscaster gives a rundown of last night’s events; to your small relief, it looks like the killer didn’t try to go to the campus after the murders at the party house. the newscaster goes on to announce that the police are instating a citywide curfew, which they’ll discuss further at a press conference in the afternoon. in the meantime, they advise everyone to only travel in groups, shelter in place if possible, and keep all windows and doors locked.

you laugh humorlessly, and jungkook glances at you again. “in groups? we were all packed into one damn house at the party, and how much did that help?”

➤ y/n: are you sure you’re okay at the uni?

➤ camille: I’m fine. My roommate brought some of her friends into our room so no one’s left alone. Either way, my dad is coming to help me move some of my things out and come back home.

➤ y/n: okay, please just stay safe.

➤ camille: You too.

“what now?” jungkook says once the newscast goes off. “everybody just stays holed up for like a month while they hunt for that guy?”

you roll your eyes. “people won’t stay in their homes for that long. i don’t know how any of this is gonna work. we wouldn’t be in this mess now if they’d cared when this first started happening.”

“you think so? students would still be getting killed. the only difference is that a good chunk of people would just be sitting at home freaking the fuck out and too scared to go anywhere while the killer would still be on the loose.”

“…damn. it’s truly bleak to assume we’d still be in the same situation. you’re an optimistic one.”

“better than deluding yourself about it.”

“whatever. where’s your family to freak out over you? somebody should be concerned about your whereabouts by now. didn’t you say you have a brother? speaking of, i’m gonna have to call my sister soon…”

jungkook turns back to the TV, and you can tell he’s become more tense than he was seconds ago. “yeah, but i’m estranged from them. yoongi’s my family.”

wrong thing to ask. you wonder about the reason for it but decide it’s probably better not to pry. “ah…that sucks.”

jungkook looks back at you like he’s irked by that response, but he makes a noise resembling a chuckle. “tell me about it.”

later that afternoon, after you’ve reassured your sister veronica on her work break that you are fine and at a “friend’s” house (because you have no clue how to refer to either of these men), you and yoongi sit at the kitchen table with brunch while jungkook goes outside to examine the damage to his car more closely.

it’s difficult to eat, but you do so anyway; you don’t want to be rude by wasting the food yoongi made. the news station still plays loudly from the living room as you wait for the press conference to come on.

“so, about you and jungkook...” yoongi starts, looking at you from over the rim of his cup of coffee.

“what about me and jungkook?”

“we both know he didn’t get those bites on his neck from a wild animal attack.”

you sit up straighter in your seat, a sudden spike of irritation hitting you. “aren’t we all grown here? who cares?” you try to sound unbothered despite feeling very green about all of this. after all, you’d only had sex for the first time last night.

“look, i don’t care. fuck him all you want. i’m just trying to advise you not to get emotionally involved, because that’s not how jungkook operates. the amount of girls i’ve had somehow coming after my neck when their situationship with him doesn’t work out is starting to get really old. it’d be best if you didn’t do the same.”

you’re simultaneously annoyed at his assumption of you and flustered because you want to prove him wrong about acting the same as the other girls. you hate both feelings. “i don’t want anything like that with him. i just needed something done and i got it. it doesn’t matter anymore.”

yoongi shrugs, and you get the sense he’s heard that before and isn’t convinced, but you can’t be bothered going back and forth with him about this.

the press conference comes on TV a few minutes later. they announce that classes at your university are cancelled indefinitely; parents and relatives will need to come move their students out, and the school will be operating with a skeleton staff and increased security presence for any students who can’t leave the campus. the citywide curfew will be at 8 p.m. every night, by which time almost everyone will need to be in their homes, and it will end at 6 a.m each morning.

“fun,” you say sarcastically. “at least i won’t have to worry about finals and trying not to get murdered at the same time.”

when jungkook comes back inside, you let him know about what he missed from the press conference.

“we should just stay here for now.” when you raise your eyebrows, jungkook says, “i basically live here when i’m not on campus for classes. plus yoongi-hyung lets me bring girls here all the time, this is nothing new.”

“if both of you are gonna be hiding out in my place, we’ll need to go to the store,” yoongi says. “more mouths to feed.”

“…or i could just go home?” you propose, your mind reeling at them already making plans. you feel awkward about staying in a stranger’s house for who knows how long. “i think we only really needed to stay here for the night. it’s fine.”

“will you have people there with you?” jungkook asks. “it’s not safe to be alone.”

you’re surprised he seems to be this concerned, but you answer: “well, i mean…my sister works 12-hour shifts as a nurse and she’s the only one living there, so…” you’d chosen your university because your older sister lived in the area, and because it was a tradition for women in your family to attend that school, but there were no other relatives you could turn to. your parents lived a couple of towns away.

yoongi comes to the conclusion so you don’t have to. “in other words, you’ll be alone most of the day.”

“…i guess. but i’m really not tryna impose on you by staying here.”

yoongi tilts his head, a small smirk on his lips. you automatically dislike the look on his face. “why don’t you take jungkook with you, then?”

you and jungkook glance at each other. “but, hyung…”

yoongi shakes his head. “you already know i can take care of myself. seriously, don’t worry about it.” and then yoongi winks at you. you don’t know for sure, but you take that to mean he’s probably packing heat like camille’s dad.

“if you’re sure.” turning to you, jungkook says, “so, how about it?”

“it’s my sister’s house, so i’ll have to ask her,” you say tentatively. “yeah…uh. let me do that now, i guess.” you pull out your phone to text her about it, though you know it’ll be a while before she gets another work break and can answer. “in the meantime…i think we’ll need to go to the store either way. and then to campus to pick our things up.”

“you’re right. let’s go then,” jungkook says.

the store is full of people panic-buying food and necessities in preparation for the curfew and effective lockdown, which you expected. you and jungkook end up going your separate ways to find the things you need because it’s quicker that way, and because you want to get in and out of the store as soon as possible. the crowdedness is too much like the party, and despite yourself, anxiety begins rising in you due to the claustrophobic atmosphere. you try to maintain even breaths as you keep searching for items. just what you need—a shiny new trauma to make your life harder.

you pass by a man in one of the less-crowded aisles before realizing he’s standing in front of what you need to get, examining one of the food packages. you wait a few moments to see if he’ll finish up soon, and when your eyes begin to wander, you see that there’s a long gray hair clinging to the back of his leather jacket, standing out clearly against the black. you probably wouldn’t have noticed this at all on any other day, except your mind has been on high alert for hours now; you find it strange that this strand clearly doesn’t match the shade or length of the hair on his head, which is short and plain brown. the shade of the hair also weirdly reminds you of something, though you can’t quite recall what; it remains just out of your mind’s reach.

you shake your head. he could’ve come to the store with somebody who has long gray hair, or hugged them before he left home, and a strand stuck to his jacket. it’s the least of your issues right now.

the man must feel your presence behind him because he turns around to look at you. you’re a little taken aback by his gaze; his expression isn’t mean per se, but very intense, as if his entire focus is trained on you.

there’s a second’s pause, like he’s thinking about something before he speaks. “am i in your way?” he asks, never breaking eye contact. his voice doesn’t portray any particular emotion.

“i just have to get something really quick.” he steps aside and gestures to the rows of food without a word. you slip in beside him and grab what you need before moving away again. “thanks.” you think about telling him about the hair on his jacket but decide against it; your decision is solidified when you spot a wolf figurine keychain on his keys, faded from time but still distinguishable. it makes your breath catch.

there’s no way it could be him. it was kind of dark in the party house with nothing but string lights and lamps illuminating it, and everything happened so quickly…but you do remember the colors of that mask. red, yellow, black—and that dark gray for the fur.

but maybe it’s really all just a coincidence; how much sense would it make to turn every person with wolf paraphernalia and random stray hairs into a suspect?

you walk down the rest of the aisle and away from the man with growing unease. maybe it’s time to find jungkook so you can get out of here; you can hardly keep yourself together, and despite your best attempts at logic, you can’t stop yourself from getting more frantic about those two things.

speeding up your walk and weaving through people, you look down every aisle in search for jungkook before you find him, rushing over to him as you breathe heavily.

“whoa, what the hell is wrong? did somebody do something?”

“no, i…”

“what happened?”

“it’s the…well, the…i saw, uh…”

“y/n.”

“i saw—the mask. the fur from the mask. do you remember it?”

“…you mean that stupid ass werewolf mask?” you gesture for jungkook to lower his voice. “wait, you’re saying you saw it in here?”

“no, i saw a man who had a strand of hair on his jacket…” it starts sounding ridiculous to your own ears the more you speak, but you continue. “the strand—it was the same color as that fur. the same length! and he—he had some weird wolf keychain…”

jungkook stares at you for a long moment before sighing. “you’re not serious? a random strand of hair that could be from anybody or anything? that could be from someone’s fucking grandma for all we know. plus a keychain…maybe he just likes wolves, y/n.”

you already know that saying i just feel like something is off won’t be enough to convince him. you sigh with a deep sense of defeat, considering that he’s probably right. maybe your initial assumption was the more sensible answer. “…right. i think i’m just really fucked up right now after everything that happened. can we finish up here?”

“yeah, we will. because you definitely need to lay down soon or something. you haven’t had any sleep all night, right?” the way jungkook eyes you with concern as if you’ve lost your mind annoys you. you’re about to give a smart remark when you notice something in the carrying-basket he has.

“…a baseball bat?”

“if the killer comes after us again, duh. we’ll be prepared this time. or at least i will.”

“good luck with that if he happens to have another gun.” rolling your eyes, you brush past jungkook to go to one of the checkout counters.

in the parking lot, you see that the man from earlier has also come out and is putting the last of his grocery bags into his car trunk. there’s really nothing spectacular about his appearance that would make him stand out in a crowd, with his average height and average looks, let alone incriminate him as a serial killer. yet that familiar unease won’t leave.

he sees you and jungkook walking towards the car together, and his eyes dart to the bullet holes in jungkook’s car. then he makes eye contact with you. you give a half-hearted wave, unsure what else to do with his eyes stuck on you. for a moment, his lips turn up into the faintest smile before he shakes his head and gets into his own car.

MONDAY, NOV 6

you’ve spent half of saturday and all of sunday trying to get used to living in your sister’s house with jungkook. veronica had been surprisingly okay with having him stay over, though most of it was her being relieved you finally found “a potential boyfriend who’s actually cute.” you didn’t have the energy to argue with her.

you’ve also been constantly checking on camille (to her eventual annoyance) and seeing if there are any more updates on lorelai. still nothing. your dread grows the further away you get from that bloody friday, but you try to keep your thoughts from straying too darkly.

right now, you, veronica, and jungkook all sit on the couch together in a neat little row, a bowl of popcorn in front of you on the coffee table and some science-fiction B-movie playing on the TV. your sister proposed the idea to distract yourselves from everything going on, but so far, you feel like it isn’t very effective. at least not for you. your mind keeps wandering to other things every 5 minutes.

eventually, veronica yawns widely, stretching her arms and legs before rising off the couch. “okay, i’m getting tired as fuck. i need to go to sleep for work tomorrow anyway. you guys enjoy the rest of the movie, okay?” she pats your shoulder as she passes by you on her way out of the room.

jungkook waves. “oh, sure. goodnight.”

“night, sis.”

when jungkook’s attention goes back to the movie, your sister makes eye contact with you and points her finger at you menacingly. you give her a shocked look while she mouths you know what i mean and swirls her finger in jungkook’s direction. embarrassed at the implication, you roll your eyes and turn your head back to the TV screen. having sex with jungkook on your sister’s couch is not high on your list of priorities tonight.

after your sister is gone, jungkook spreads out on the couch like it’s his own living room, placing his legs right over your lap. you sigh, looking over at him—and hoping that your eyes don’t linger too obviously on the expanse of thigh muscle that’s now on display from his shorts riding up higher.

“…really? i don’t want your big ole legs in my lap.”

jungkook just grins. “you should lay down too, it’s more comfortable this way.” you stare at him, and he tries to egg you on by pulling the sleeve of your shirt. “come on.”

“i’m not laying down on top of you, if that’s what you’re after.”

you do end up lying down, but on the opposite side of the couch so that your legs are tangled together, which really just increases the amount of contact between you either way—but whatever.

this makes jungkook laugh more. “ha, it’s like we’re scissoring.”

“so damn corny.”

you two continue watching the rest of the movie, but by the end of it you don’t remember half of what happened. taking the remote, you flip through the channels and try to find something else to look at. there isn’t much interesting to watch on a random monday night—which would be a school night anyway, if not for the current context.

as you search for a channel, jungkook asks: “what would you do if you found out who the killer was?”

you squint your eyes at his odd question. maybe the obvious answer would be to alert the police. but after days of having your anger stoked like a fire, that’s not exactly the answer you’d choose. “maybe i’d kill him.” the words leave your lips easily, and you hardly think twice about them once they’re out.

neither of you speak for a few long moments.

“does that scare you?” you ask, after the silence starts annoying you. you want to laugh, but there’s nothing really funny about the situation.

“…not really. angry women are kinda sexy. so are dangerous ones.”

you scoff. “i’m not tryna be sexy, you fool. and how many dangerous women have you dealt with? seems to me you only have a thing for the innocents.”

“it’s not like i only fuck virgins. you don’t even know me like that.” he nudges your leg with his foot like he’s also annoyed, but his expression doesn’t show any actual irritation.

“…if you want to go back and forth about it, go outside and argue with the wall or something. i’m in no mood, jungkook.” you shove his foot off of you. “just, holy shit. i wish i could have just one hour where i don’t have to think about any of this shit. my mind can’t even breathe.”

he’s actually quiet for a couple minutes after. you think he’s moved on from the conversation until he finally says, “i can give you an hour.”

your body becomes alert at that. the insinuation in his tone is obvious. you glance backwards as if your sister could hear you from upstairs, though you know that’s illogical. “i got what i wanted from you already,” you whisper.

“so? what if i wanted to give you more? you know you’re allowed to have sex with a person more than once, yeah?” he chuckles.

here he is making you this offer, and once again you feel like you’ve been reduced to the state of a confused lamb in front of a hungry wolf. you realize that the idea of letting yourself get more physically entangled with jungkook scares you. he is not someone you can turn into a boyfriend, who wants to be a boyfriend, and you are only looking to save yourself from any potential hurt. “it would just be sex—right? you have to know i’m not looking for anything deeper from you.”

jungkook smirks. like with yoongi, you don’t know if he believes you. “i know.”

you want to undo almost everything from the past few days. you can’t forget, but for a while, you want to just exist outside of the timeline where there’s a killer on the loose and one of your friends is missing. it’s too much to handle; your body is approaching its limits for the amount of stress it can take. you need a balm to numb the pain and the fear, and you dislike that you are giving into your base instincts to do so. you feel guilty, somehow. but pleasure is easy. at least it has been whenever you sought it on your own—and now you have someone else to give it to you. someone who is in front of you now, proposing it with all the willingness in the world. maybe there’s really nothing wrong with saying yes.

“jungkook…”

“hm?”

“please just shut the fuck up and don’t say another word about the outside world right now. i don’t want to think about anything but your…” you falter, still trying to get used to expressing what you want sexually.

jungkook sits up, his hands sliding up your legs and to your hips. “but my what?”

“um, your…” your thoughts end when he leans down and pulls the hem of your sweater up, planting a kiss on your waist where your skin meets the waistband of your sweatpants. one kiss turns into a second, and a third. the fourth becomes an open-mouthed embrace of his lips on your skin, and you make a small noise of pleasure when his tongue gets involved.

“careful. don’t want veronica to come down here, remember?”

you huff. “that isn’t happening any time soon, believe me.”

his kisses continue as he begins to slide your sweatpants down, revealing the waistband of your panties. once they’re fully on display, he leans forward to nuzzle his face between your thighs, his mouth and nose pressing into the seat of your underwear. his actions take you off guard. you actually give a brief chuckle from surprise, though you are also somewhat embarrassed. “now what the hell are you doing?”

“let me savor my meal before i eat it.” his warm breaths tickle your inner thighs as he speaks.

“ugh, don’t turn me off.”

“that’s funny, because i seem to have an easy time getting you wet.” to prove it, his fingers press into the seat of your underwear to feel the wetness that’s seeped into them; you sigh from the brief pleasure his fingers’ movements afford you before he pulls them away.

jungkook drags your panties down next, his lips trailing down your lower abdomen and across the curls of hair covering your pubic mound. your body fills with anticipation at the gradual pace of his actions and the purposeful, wet caresses of his mouth.

when he uses his thumbs to press your lower lips apart and expose you more fully to him, you have half a mind to be self-conscious about it until he places his mouth on you in earnest.

jungkook eats like someone who hasn’t done so in a while and doesn’t know when he’ll get to do it again. his mouth sucks at your clit like he’s desperate for you to come, tongue rolling over the swollen nub in an unrelenting pattern that has your stomach tensing, and you quickly realize you do have to try to silence yourself even if you know it won’t wake veronica up. you twist your hands into the sleeves of your sweater and lean your head back on the couch’s armrest as you arch your hips up closer to jungkook’s face, uncaring about how vulnerable you feel completely offering yourself up to him like this; right now, all you want is to feel good.

“gonna come quick again? maybe we can set a new record?” jungkook pins your knee against the couch with his elbow to keep your legs open as he slides two fingers inside, diving straight in instead of working you up this time. your body breaks out in a sweat and you know you really won’t last long once he does this, the tips of his fingers aiming for that dreadful, wonderful, and overpowering place inside you. you don’t know how people do this—you feel like you’re going to die when he stimulates that spot, and all you want to do is scream even though you can’t.

“a r-record? fuck off…” you choke out, though you begin to rock your hips into the rhythm of his fingers, needing so badly for him to take you over the edge again.

he chuckles. “i don’t think you want me to fuck off right now.”

you have no words for a good comeback when he buries his head between your legs and slurps at your pussy again and crooks his fingers repeatedly to where your orgasm is unexpectedly rushing down upon you, causing your body to tense as you gasp and stifle any sounds that escape with your sweater sleeve.

jungkook doesn’t stop there and you don’t really expect him to, because you’re beginning to learn he isn’t a one-and-done type of man. he keeps sucking and stroking you right into another releasewhile you push the beanie off his head, fist your fingers into his strands, and tremble over the sight of his pitch-black mess of hair between your thighs. something about the visual is so appealing to you.

after he has made you come for the third time, you watch him sit up on his knees to reach into his shorts and pull his dick out, his darkened tip slick with precum. his long hair falls into his face as he glances downward, using the hand he’d been fingering you with to lube himself up with your cum.

“come here,” you tell him, your voice coming out sharper than you intended; but he doesn’t care, because he follows your request without a word and presses himself into your side. the couch is just big enough to accommodate both of you in this position, but it’s still a tight fit, and your bodies are once again tangled together.

“let me touch you,” you say, your palm pressed to his stomach, feeling the firmness of the muscle.

he raises his eyebrows, like you didn’t even need to ask. “of course.”

“no, i mean…” he realizes what you actually mean as you brush his hand away from his shaft and wrap your fingers around it instead.

“should i teach you how?” jungkook brings his hand to overlap yours, though his breath becomes a bit strained when you slide your hand to the base of his cock and back to the tip again, the pads of your fingers rubbing over the sensitive head. seeing your fingers around him turns him on more than he thought it could, and it’s just a simple fucking handjob.

you roll your eyes. “stroking a dickshouldn’t be that hard.”

“everyone likes it differently, though. fast, slow, soft, or rough…just the tip, or the whole shaft.” you can’t deny that—or the way you find yourself throbbing at his words, his voice husky from the pleasure. which is why you let jungkook close his hand more fully around yours and guide your movements.

it’s captivating to observe his reactions from your hand on his skin—the heavy breaths he lets out and the soft moans and even softer whimpers that come in between the exhales. whenever you squeeze his shaft more firmly or rub your thumb against his leaking tip, you find yourself grinning at the rise and fall of his chest and the tongue that darts out of his mouth to lick at his lips. but mostly, your eyes are drawn back to the sight of your hand working him over, his thighs and stomach tensing sporadically.

eventually, you both look away from your joined hands and at each other’s faces. your eyes dart to his lips and back to his gaze again, and you shift your face forward to signal your desire for a kiss. he meets you there by pressing his lips to yours, and it isn’t hard for him to get lost in the meeting of your mouths and the heat from your palm on his shaft.

your free hand returns to his soft hair to tug on it as your tongues slide against each other. he grunts at the burn of his roots being pulled but doesn’t stop you; on the contrary, his body responds favorably as more precum swells from his tip and his nipples poke against the material of his shirt.

“do you like that, jungkook?” you mumble against his mouth.

“you know i do.” at some point, his hand falls away and he lets you stroke him on your own.

jungkook gives a shuddering moan into your mouth when he climaxes minutes later, thick streams of his cum shooting onto his shirt and dripping down your hand. he tries to keep quiet and doesn’t entirely succeed, but it doesn’t much matter.

you squeeze the few remaining drops of cum from his cockhead, trying to make sure you don’t grip hard enough to actually hurt him. you pull your sticky hand away from jungkook when you think he’s finally emptied, but he grabs your wrist and you look at him questioningly. you watch with shocked eyes as jungkook brings your hand up and takes your messy fingers into his mouth, sucking his cum from them. you know instinctively it isn’t the first time he’s done this—not with the look of pure satisfaction on his features as he licks his own seed off your fingers.

his enthusiastic pleasure is part of the reason why you accept when jungkook gives you a crushing kiss, passing his cum from his tongue to yours. you don’t know what you expected it to taste like, but it isn’t gross like you’ve heard others complain about when sharing their sex tales; despite being salty, the overall taste is neutral. still, it takes some getting used to.

when you pull away from each other, noses brushing and lips wet from each other’s spit, you look into his dark brown eyes and get the sudden desire to say something that’s been buried in the back of your mind for days now.

“why did you come straight to me that night?” you whisper. “like you already knew who you were there for.”

jungkook stares back, his lips curving up slightly. “i just wanted to. or i wanted you, more specifically.”

“that’s not an answer.”

“well, it’s my answer.”

“was i another one to knock off your list?”

“you think i have a list?”

“i’m not stupid. it’s not unusual for guys to have a list. plus, plenty of rumors go around.”

jungkook taps his fingers underneath your chin and kisses you on the lips again, though it is brief. “stop believing everything you hear.”

you clearly won’t be getting a straight answer from him tonight. with the moment broken, you sigh and begin pulling your bottoms back on. “…whatever you say, dude.” once you’re dressed, you climb over his body to get off the couch. you poke him in the chest as your eyes roam over him in his disheveled state, his shorts pulled down and his cum staining his black shirt. “might wanna clean yourself up, huh? i’m going to sleep. and, yeah…thanks for the distraction.”

TUESDAY, NOV 7

with the weather being as cold as it is and heading toward winter in another month or so, lorelai is surprised by how quickly the bodies began to smell.

she doesn’t know much of anything about bodily decomposition—because, to her parents’ disappointment, she wasn’t about to be a biology major and have to be around cadavers in a dissection lab—but if this were a movie or something, she would’ve thought it would take longer than just one day. the smell started to hit her the saturday after the party.

but ultimately, this isn’t a movie, and the fact that she’s trapped in a decrepit house in some remote part of town is her present reality.

she doesn’t remember anything about how she got to this house; she thinks she must have been concussed before she was brought here. her head has been hurting badly for days, and not even the simple relief of a painkiller is available.

what she does know is that she’s being kept in a dirty living room on an equally dirty mattress, her hands and legs tied by rope and zip-ties. if there were any miniscule chance of her escaping, it would be impossible to go anywhere considering both her ankles are broken, only adding to the amount of physical pain she’s been in for days.

the living room is mostly empty except for the bodies of some other students from the party, which have been scattered around the room. lorelai tries not to look at them—especially not at the ones she knows—but it’s difficult. they become even more terrifying to her when night falls, turning into dark, rotting shadows in the corners of the room. there has been nothing but the company of these corpses for days, and a couple of visits from the killer.

he's never once taken off his wolf mask or his gloves, and every other part of his body stays covered in all black. she doesn’t have the first idea of what he looks like underneath it all. he has spoken to her a few times, but the voice isn’t one she recognizes. his words when she first awoke inside this house still knock around in her mind, filling her with dread.

he’d crouched in front of her, watching her move around on the mattress and try to orient herself. he had the casual air of someone observing a flipped-up bug struggle on the sidewalk before crushing it underfoot. “you aren’t y/n, but you’ll do for now. we’ll have some real fun later on. you’ll help me give her a good scare.”

“how the fuck do you know y/n?” lorelai had struggled against her restraints, but this only made her newly broken ankles hurt worse. tears began to fall from her eyes from the pain and fear.

the killer had said nothing to that—only tilted his head curiously and stared at her, which was unnerving even if she couldn’t see his eyes.

“you have no fucking reason to go after her, she’s not even a virgin anymore you dumb fuck—” with those words, the killer had backhanded her, sending her already injured head into a fresh wave of agony.

“things would’ve been different if not for that fucking party. you students think you’re so fucking clever, yeah? and look how you paid for it.” it was impossible to see any facial expression, but his body language spoke of anger. “no matter, though. virgin or not, i’ll see this through to the end.”

now it’s yet another morning, and he has returned. he has a lot of debris in his hands—stuff like sticks and dry moss and foliage. he’s also carrying a small bag, the contents of it a mystery. everything he does causes alarm for lorelai, but now confusion joins in.

“ready to have some fun?” he asks. with duct tape over her mouth, she can’t answer back. she watches as he arranges the debris on the ground in front of her, her anxiety mounting as he takes a lighter out of his pocket and sets fire to the foliage.

leaning forward, he rips part of the duct tape away from her mouth with his gloved hand, causing her face to sting. “got anything to say?”

“wh-what the fuck are you doing?”

“i’m gonna stoke a nice fire here…get this knife hot enough to hurt.” he brings out his knife then, and lorelai shrinks away from the blade as he drags the flat of it across her throat—but there’s nowhere else to go, as she’s sitting up against the wall. “then i’ll just cut this pretty little body up a bit. the finishing touch…i think i’ll slice your throat open. how does that sound?” he takes the knife away from her neck to hold the blade over the flames.

lorelai’s breath hitches, and her stomach begins to physically hurt from the outpouring of anxiety flowing through her. she starts to sob, trying to speak through the tears and snot and drool. the only question she can muster up is, “wh-why?”

“this is for y/n—remember? i hope that concussion hasn’t fucked with your memory.” the killer watches the reflection of the flames on the blade as it grows hotter. “and…i’m doing someone a favor.” he doesn’t wait for her to speak again before putting the duct tape back in place over her mouth, leaving her to cry to herself and face her rising distress as he heats the knife until it’s burning hot. internally, she wishes there was any way in the world to get out of this situation.

it isn’t much longer before he’s finished. lorelai screams as he approaches her with the knife, and then at the feeling of the red-hot blade scorching her skin, though the sounds are stifled by the duct tape.

“now, be still while i fix you up.”

WEDNESDAY, NOV 8

you go outside that afternoon to check the mail and have an excuse to get out of the house; it doesn’t matter if it’s only for a few moments. you’re not used to staying cooped up in one place for so long with absolutely nothing to do, and you feel like you’re not too far off from going mad with cabin fever. it hasn’t even been a week since everything happened.

you open the mailbox, and there are the usual bills along with something strange: a blank envelope with no return address. even your sister’s address isn’t written on it. flipping it over, you see that the envelope was never sealed. someone must’ve just come up and put it inside the mailbox. but who the hell would do that, and for what reason? whenever any of your neighbors have something to give you or your sister, they come straight up to the house to do it.

inside the envelope is a set of polaroids. their content makes you drop the rest of the mail. your legs grow weak, and you end up sitting down hard on the end of the driveway, some of the polaroids slipping from your hands. the pictures show the bodies of some of the students from your university, their corpses posed in odd positions and some bare of clothing—all dead.

you struggle to breathe as you frantically flip through the rest of the pictures. in the center of all the group photos is lorelai, her neck torn open and her wrists and ankles tied. she’s still dressed the way she was the night of the party, though her dress is stained with dark brown blood. there are open cuts all over her bare skin, their appearance rough-looking and uneven as if they’ve been cauterized.

there are several group polaroids, several of lorelai alone, and several angles of the outside of a house, which must be the same one the bodies are being kept in. one photo of lorelai slips out of your shaking hands, and you see there’s barely legible handwriting on the back of it, which reads, “this is just the teaser, y/n.”

you scream and don’t stop screaming until jungkook comes running out of the house holding the baseball bat, as if the killer might’ve gotten bold enough to attack in daylight. a couple of your neighbors peek out of their houses and make their way over with concern on their faces once they see you sitting on the ground, your exclamations ringing through the street.

there’s a disarrayed group of people around you grabbing at your shoulders and asking what’s wrong, what happened, and then gasps and exclamations of shock when they see the polaroids. you feel yourself being pulled to your feet and then lifted up—maybe it’s jungkook, because it smells like him—but you’re too disoriented to make proper sense of anything right now. you can only think of how much time has been wasted, and how little time lorelai actually had left.

SUNDAY, NOV 12

in the main lobby of the funeral home, you sit in a chair next to camille, staring into empty space while the other girl tries to cry as quietly as she can. she cries as if she’s ashamed of it, and you wish you could comfort her, but you don’t know what to say or do. for the past few days, you’ve mostly just felt numb.

you’re waiting for veronica to come back out so you can leave, as she’d stayed behind after the service to talk to lorelai’s family for a little longer.

lorelai’s family had opted to have her cremated after seeing the state of her body. a lot of other families did the same after the events of cherry bomb, not even wanting to entertain the idea of a closed-casket funeral. you can understand their feelings about it if you push through the haze in your mind to consider it for long enough. though the morticians have done the best they can over the past week, sometimes knowing that your loved one has multiple stab wounds and eviscerated organs beneath all the makeup and fancy clothing is too much to handle.

when veronica finally comes out, the three of you walk outside to join the rest of the people who’ve started getting in their cars. some still linger in small huddles, shaking their heads and wiping their faces.

jungkook, who’d driven you and veronica to the memorial, waits outside for you all, leaning on the side of the building. you both thought it was probably better for him not to attend the service considering lorelai was never fond of him and he didn’t know her that well.

“is it finished?” he asks.

“it is.” veronica sighs. “god, funerals are so damn…bleak.”

you notice a man waving at your group from the other side of the parking lot and realize it’s camille’s dad. her posture straightens when she catches sight of him, and she hurriedly tries to wipe the rest of her tears before shoving her tissue into her pocket. “i-i think my dad is waiting for me. i…i’ll see you guys later, alright?”

“okay, camille.” the strange absence of emotion that you’ve been trapped in for the past few days suddenly cracks open when you notice camille’s anxious demeanor as she speed-walks away from the rest of you. intense sorrow overtakes you; you don’t want her to leave, but she has to go.

you are crying before you fully understand what’s happening. veronica puts her arms around you and squeezes you against the side of her body. jungkook reaches a thumb up to wipe away your tears, though you don’t let him get very far before turning your head away and into veronica’s shoulder.

“y/n…”

“how am i supposed to go on?” you exclaim, catching the attention of a few people nearby. “the police said maybe she’s just staying with friends. and now look. plus, the killer knows where me and my sister live now…maybe he always knew.”

“we don’t even have a clue who the killer is…” jungkook mumbles. “there’s no one you know of who might have a grudge against you?”

“no, jungkook. the police already gave me all that questioning. and it doesn’t help me feel any better to think maybe all these deaths are somehow my fault.” you scoff.

“y/n, nothing’s your fault because some freak decided to go around killing people; that was his decision.” jungkook argues.

you nod slightly to his words but say nothing else, not wanting to go further into that topic. you don’t know if you can believe him about that.

the parking lot is emptying out now, so you try to pull yourself together so the three of you can leave. “well…you don’t need to keep staying with us if you don’t want to. we have those assigned bodyguards now, so…” you glance in the direction of one other car sitting beside jungkook’s—inside it are two men the police force appointed after the polaroids of the bodies were planted in your sister’s mailbox.

jungkook looks at you as if he’s trying to gauge your expression; he himself looks surprised, though he attempts to play it off. veronica glances between you both, recognizing the awkward shift in the air.

“you don’t want me there anymore? i mean it is your house—” he glances at veronica “—so that’s fine with me if—"

“what? i didn’t say i don’t want you there, neither did veronica, it’s just if you don’t want to be there—"

“i never said i didn’t want to be there, though?”

you both become quiet, jungkook looking at you and you returning his gaze for a few seconds before looking off to the side. veronica is still standing between you both like she’d rather be anywhere else on earth.

“i just figured that maybe…” why are you being so concerned about me? isn’t this the part where we go our separate ways? is what you really want to ask. you have seen and learned enough from your friends’ and even your acquaintances’ experiences to realize that any other one night stand would not have cared so much. that’s how these things go, right? but he isn’t really a one night stand anymore, either.

you don’t even know if you’re considered friends with benefits, but what would that change? you’d still seen others tossed aside without much thought by their FWBs while in times of need. considering his history, you don’t understand why jungkook isn’t following the same template now, and you don’t think you should ask why for fear of breaking the illusion.

fed up with your own confusion, you decide now isn’t the time to lament on your lack of knowledge about these things. “nevermind. that’s fine. so you’ll stay?”

the corner of his mouth lifts in a brief smile. “i’ll stay as long as you won’t try to kick me out.”

you aren’t in the mood to attempt to smile back, but he seems to understand that. “right, well...good.”

“…now that you two have figured that shit out, can we leave?”

FRIDAY, NOV 17

jungkook thought that getting outside a bit more would help you feel better and prevent you from developing a complete fear of leaving the house, which is why you’re sitting in this claustrophobic little diner now with him, yoongi, and camille—and of course, your ever-present bodyguards in the booth behind you all. but this outing isn’t doing anything to mitigate your fears.

nearly 10 minutes in, you have to ask jungkook to switch seats with you so you’re not on the outside of the booth, as you’re afraid that it’s too easy-access if anyone—say, the killer, though you’ve been trying not to think so obsessively about him—were to come in and start stabbing you to death right where you sit. being on the inside calms you for a little while until you become anxious about the window beside you; what if he has a gun again and simply shoots through the glass? all he’d have to do is stand on the sidewalk and aim, his werewolf mask laughing at you with its eternally frozen growling expression, and your brains would be all over the table just like that frat guy’s.

your meal sits half-eaten as you get increasingly lost in your anxieties. the others are talking about something, but you can’t hear what. it’s like some of your senses have shut down or begun working incorrectly. the strawberry sauce in camille’s sundae looks too much like blood and even smells like it from the occasional whiffs you get, and you find yourself staring at the sundae dish and wanting to throw it across the restaurant.

jungkook’s hand touches you on the back, and the tension in your body increases. he feels it and draws away, though he keeps trying to meet your eyes. “are you okay?” he whispers.

“why ask that? she obviously isn’t,” yoongi says, like he’s annoyed with the obviousness of jungkook’s question.

“hyung, i’m just trying to help.”

“it was your great idea to come out here when she didn’t want to, though.”

“y/n—” camille starts.

“can’t you throw that out? it smells like blood.” your mouth feels useless and hard to maneuver, but you manage to say those words.

“what?”

“the…that. that thing.” everyone looks at camille’s melting sundae. yoongi raises his eyebrows.

“blood?”

“do you mean it—looks like blood?” jungkook suggests.

you raise your voice in irritation, not understanding how everyone else is unable to perceive the same scent that you do. “no, i-it does, but it smells like blood too! just get rid of it!”

one of the waitresses comes over to the table. “is everything okay over here?”

“um, we’re fine! i’m finished with this though.” camille hurriedly hands the sundae off to her, trying to keep the situation calm.

“oh, well—the rest of you too? that’ll be it, then?” she gathers everyone’s plates and leaves with a smile that attempts to be cordial but is still colored with unease.

her departure leaves a stiff silence in which you all spare glances at each other but try to avoid directly meeting eyes. camille is the first to break it.

“i’ll ask my dad if i can stay over with you,” she suggests. she suddenly sounds much more tired. jungkook’s eyebrows furrow slightly at her words; yoongi silently glances at the younger man. “just, you know…maybe the extra company would help? he’s been treating me like a kid again, but we should be safe with the bodyguards there, so…”

“you don’t have to do that,” you say, though you’re too exhausted to truly argue.

“you’re in shambles, y/n. and it’s not just for your benefit. i’m feeling pretty fucking alone right now, and it’s hard for my dad to understand the emotional side of it, so…” camille plays with her fingers and doesn’t look at anyone as she speaks; you know talking about her father can be a sore spot for her sometimes. “uh, anyway. not to trauma-dump or anything. just let me do this.”

you sigh. “fine…okay. do whatever you have to. can we just leave?”

as you’re all walking outside, jungkook pulls you aside.

“i still worry about you after that incident at the store, you know?” he admits.

you shrug his hand off your arm and glare at him. “you think i’m crazy.”

“i don’t. i just want you to be able to relax and not feel like you’re being hunted 24/7. i don’t think the killer is constantly waiting around the nearest corner for you, y/n.”

“you don’t know how close the killer could be. he knows where i go to sleep at night. so stop the bullshit, jungkook.”

“you’ll be okay. you have me, remember? i protected you that night…i can do it again.”

you examine his face for a long moment and find that you are too overwhelmed with stress and fear to be moved by his words. “i’d like to trust you…but the killer might just murder you too. then who’ll save me?” you don’t wait for his response before walking away to catch up with the other two.

LYING IN WAIT...

it’s strange to see the police bodyguards in veronica’s driveway and backyard everyday. it’s not the same two all day—they switch off so that there are two doing a day shift and two doing a night shift.

the security team at the hospital where your sister works is aware of the situation, so you try not to get too worried about her safety when she’s away from the house—but it’s difficult.

there have been no more kills connected to your university since lorelai. it seems like half the town has forgotten their fears and tried to go back to some sense of normalcy while the other half still hides away and lives in perpetual panic, including you. the former group of people has started muddying the waters for the police, with some teenagers getting brave enough to sneak around in wolf masks and vandalize buildings with red-lettered virgin graffiti just to fuck with the cops. there have even been a few people who turned themselves in claiming to be the killer—only their supposed confessions never matched the details of the case.

reporters have tried to hound lorelai’s family and your family several times for any speculations or answers on the killer’s identity, but none of you are willing to spread misinformation just to give them something to write about. however, that hasn’t stopped other residents of your town from sharing their speculations and even implicating their own relatives or neighbors—whether as a fucked-up joke or as genuine revenge just depends on whoever’s speaking. with all of these false leads, the police are still no closer to finding the killer than they’d initially been.

everyday feels like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, though the chances of any more kills are starting to seem improbable; the university is practically empty. but it doesn’t matter to you if the school is nearly deserted, because the killer has his aims set on you now, and you only wish you knew why.

up in your room, you and camille sit on your bed gazing out the window—the window that must always remain locked now, for fear of unwanted ingress. you’ve never been uncomfortable in your sister’s house, but lately you’ve been feeling like you’re boxed in with every wall pressing towards you.

sitting up from your lying-down position, you have to find the appropriate words for a moment before speaking. “camille—i can’t stop feeling like maybe we aren’t entirely safe,” you murmur.

camille raises her eyebrows. “why not? those guys stay outside all day, and we keep everything locked up day and night. literally, the only time the front door opens is for veronica to leave and come back from work everyday.”

“i don’t know. there’s no particular reason for it…it just seems like we’re waiting for something.”

“…yeah? for the killer to be caught.”

“but he’s made no moves recently. you remember the policeman’s daughter, right? i even texted her and she hasn’t heard anything new that we don’t already know. seems like things have slowed down at the police station. it’s not like that abandoned house was in the killer’s name or anything, so what leads would they have?”

camille frowns and rubs her eyes like something’s in them, but when she looks at you directly, you see her eyes are red from unshed tears. “…i want things to be okay, though. i’m tired of living like this. you know how i had to beg just to get my dad to let me leave the house. he’s constantly on edge.” you feel even more unsettled to see camille so distressed lately, as she’s always been the only one able to pull something funny out of a terrible situation—something enough to distract you from the horrors. “all i know is they’ll have to dig his ass out of some hole in the ground at some point. he can’t hide in this town forever.”

“yeah…i guess you’re right.” you still don’t feel reassured, but you don’t voice your doubts.

WEDNESDAY, NOV 22

“i think i might go mad,” camille says from her position on the armchair, her limbs splayed haphazardly across it and one hand stuck in a bag of chips.

you sigh. “you’re the one who wanted to watch this thanksgiving movie marathon.”

“the most mid holiday of the season,” jungkook adds.

“no one cares what either of you think, thanks.” it isn’t long before the program is over and the ending credits are rolling. with an exaggerated exhale, camille gets up from the chair and crunches the bag of chips in her hand. “i’m going to your room, y/n. you two just do whatever it is you do down here, since you hate my movie choices so much!”

“means we can finally turn the channel.” jungkook snatches the remote off the coffee table and does just that.

camille goes into the kitchen to throw out the chip bag and wash her hands. your focus returns to the TV. a few seconds later, you hear the upstairs flooring creak above the noise of the water pouring from the tap.

“what’s up, sis? i thought you were sleeping.” veronica is known to be a deep sleeper, so it’s not common for her to be getting up in the middle of the night. there’s no answer to your question. you glance upstairs, but your sister isn’t standing there; she isn’t standing at all, instead being carried by someone wearing an all-too familiar mask.

you scream as the killer tosses your sister over the stair railing. her torso has been sliced open from collarbone to navel, her body leaving a large splatter of blood on the floor where she lands. jungkook jumps to his feet but is momentarily immobilized as he gazes at your sister’s body crumpled on the floor. you slide off the couch and crawl over to her, still crying out, but there’s no life left to try and salvage.

the screaming brings camille rushing to the kitchen doorway. she can barely vocalize what’s wrong? before spotting veronica’s body and stopping in her tracks. in a moment that feels like it takes forever to pass, the killer pulls a gun from his waistband—you recognize it as one of the guns the policemen carry and realize he must’ve killed the bodyguard posted in the backyard—and shoots her in the chest twice.

“camille!” when you go over to where she’s lying on the ground, she is still alive but bleeding intensely and struggling to breathe. your knees slip in the blood that begins pooling around her. “shit, camille…p-please don’t die…” you press your hand against the wounds, but they’re bleeding so much that your efforts don’t help, and the pressure of your hand causes her more pain.

there’s the sound of a gunshot at the front door as the lock is blown off, and the door is banged open a few seconds later by the remaining bodyguard. he has virtually no time to fire off another shot before the killer is shooting him in the head first.

the killer throws the gun aside, taking his knife in his other hand and making his way down the stairs. “your sister left her window cracked open. i waited for days for a slip-up like that. see how much harm can come from a simple mistake? well, she was collateral damage anyway.”

even in your panic, it’s as if all your bodily functions freeze when you recognize the familiarity of the killer’s voice. camille reacts with a rattling gasp, but her body is becoming too weak for her to utter anything; all she can do is watch as the man stops at the bottom of the stairs and pulls his mask off.

“yoongi…” your voice breaks as you try to speak again, but nothing coherent comes out.

he drops the mask on the floor and brushes a hand through his hair. “i guess you weren’t expecting that. good. we kept it up ‘til the end.”

your lips form around the word we, but your vocal cords won’t cooperate. you twist around to look at jungkook, who is still standing by the couch.

the man who you’d gotten too close to for your own good and done so many firsts with, who’d promised you that he’d protect you and was even there for you on the day of lorelai’s memorial, looks at you now with eyes glowing from the thrill as his mouth twitches into a smile—small at first but growing into a full grin. “i almost can’t believe we staged all that shit and it actually worked. you really believed it all, y/n.

not all of those kills were hyung’s, of course...there’s no way i’d miss out on the best parts. you don’t know what it’s like until you kill a person for the first time. crashing cherry bomb was his idea, though. and lorelai was mine. that bitch would’ve kept you away from me, and i needed her gone for this kill to work.”

through tears, you finally muster up the strength to ask, “wh-why have you done this? that night…y-you mean to tell me none of that was real? being shot at—why would you—” your voice rises until you’re shouting. “you-you’ve killed so many people. what was the purpose?!”

jungkook’s smile fades somewhat as he pretends to think about it, acting like he’s reminiscing on wistful memories. “i realized that killing and fucking aren’t that different, y/n. the real ecstasy of it is in taking someone pure…and doing something to them that has never been done before, and can never be done again. there’s a certain eroticism in killing someone, stabbing them, entering them…it’s like sex in the most profane sense.”

“you’re disgusting,” you mutter, glaring at him through your tears. you can’t help but feel shame to think of the times you’d had sex with him. had he simply been imagining murdering you during those moments? it makes you want to throw up.

yoongi steps closer until he’s right in front of you and camille. “and as for me…i just enjoy it. practice really does make perfect. you wouldn’t believe how entertaining it can be to see someone beg for their life.” his lips turn upwards in a dark smile resembling jungkook’s. “but instead of raging at us, i think you have bigger matters to be concerned with.” yoongi gestures his knife hand to camille, and when you look down at her body, you realize she’s no longer moving.

you lift camille’s head up with your hands as if that could make her return your gaze, though you can find no sign of breathing or pulse. “god, no…” you scream in frustration, your hands slipping in her blood. you check once more and again for any signs of life, because there is just no possible way this could’ve happened, but there are none present. “please—i’m sorry…”

“time’s up.” yoongi grabs your arm and yanks you away from camille, jostling you to try to get you on your feet. you flail around in his grip, fruitlessly scratching at his arms that are covered by his thick jacket, before managing to elbow him in the groin with your frantic movements. “shit!” this causes him to loosen his grip, which is enough for you to scramble away from him, slipping in the blood as you go.

you make it to the other side of the room where the officer lies facedown—though there isn’t much left of his face from yoongi’s shot. you snatch the gun from the dead officer’s hand and point it in the direction of both men. the safety is already off; all you’d have to do is pull the trigger and kill either one of them right now. before you can act, yoongi uses his free hand to pull another gun from his waistband—his own.

“as i said before, i know how to take care of myself,” he says, flicking the safety off and aiming for you, though his stance shows he’s still in pain. “please don’t assume it’ll be that easy. do you even know how to shoot a gun?”

you and yoongi are at an impasse as you both point your guns at each other, jungkook looking on with casual amusement coloring his face. “fuck you,” you spit out. you remain hesitant to fire on him, knowing that even if you succeed, he could fatally shoot you at the same time.

“let’s not do it this way,” yoongi says, his voice low and soft in an attempt to be persuasive, though you just find it disturbing. “you were supposed to be a clean kill. a few stabs and it’d all be over. i’ll even let jungkook do it, since you seem to like each other so much. do you really want to be shot down like a dog like camille over there?”

“you and him can both fry in hell!” you shout.

yoongi glances over at jungkook. they both nod before yoongi hands the knife to him, and the younger man takes a few steps in your direction. you don’t know whether to point the gun at him or keep it trained on yoongi; your head is pounding with a headache that you’ve only just realized you have. “don’t come over here. stay away from me!”

you press your back to the wall as jungkook comes closer, inching towards your right side with his knife at the ready. you slide away from him as you keep your back against the wall. “hand it over, y/n. it doesn’t have to be like this.”

“hand it over and let you kill me? are you insane? you lied to me this whole time, you fucking piece of shit.”

jungkook scoffs and looks at yoongi as if to say can you believe this? “why wouldn’t i lie to you? you were always meant to die.”

he won’t stop coming towards you, and you’re running out of room to slide away from him. you grasp for anything to try to reason with him, though you know it’s futile. “you realize that if you kill me now and you conveniently survive, everyone will know it’s you? you’ve been living here for weeks, you jackass!”

“hyung and i have that covered. it’s not for you to worry about, considering you won’t be worrying about anything soon.”

jungkook lunges for you with the knife, thinking he can catch you off guard and overpower you. you scream and pull the trigger in your frenzied state of mind, shooting yoongi. the next few things seem to happen almost simultaneously:

you hear the crash of yoongi’s body hitting the TV stand and the TV falling to the floor.

you feel jungkook’s knife piercing your shoulder, causing you to fire a stray round into the wall from the unexpected burst of pain.

you hear another gunshot that’s not from you; you see and feel jungkook stumble into you, the knife sliding from his fingers and to the floor.

you realize that he’s been shot when his hand flies to the bullet wound on his lower back; he’d been standing in front of you, and yoongi meant to hit you, not him.

“jungkook!” yoongi’s shout is furious and regretful as he steadies himself on the TV stand.

trying to push the pain into the back of your mind, you clumsily grasp jungkook’s fallen knife and run for the stairs. more shots follow you and most of them miss but one, which strikes you in the thigh. while you cling to the stair railing and try to regain your footing, you are suddenly staring mortality in the face and understanding with a freezing-cold clarity that you will die right now if you don’t do something.

your nervous system vibrates with fear and adrenaline as you tighten your grip on the police officer’s gun and shoot yoongi with it twice—in the same area he’d shot camille.

these last two bullets finish him off immediately. you don’t think it’s fair, with how camille suffered and bled and died in your arms. for a moment, you’re so outraged that you wish he’d come back to life so that you could kill him again. you’re torn from these thoughts by jungkook.

“you bitch…he was my only family after everyone else threw me away. do you understand? i’ll fucking kill you!” jungkook is nearly writhing in the ground from his upset and from the hurt of his injury; it frightens you that this same man is someone you once thought you could grow fond of.

you aim the gun for jungkook next, but the chamber is empty. either way, he currently has no weapon, which leaves you with a small chance to get away before he re-arms himself. throwing the gun away, you stagger up the rest of the steps while his screams continue echoing up to you.

you give no thought to the blood trail you’re leaving behind as you rush to veronica’s room and to the window yoongi had entered through. you begin squeezing yourself through, keeping your grip on your knife all the while, but your injuries make it difficult to move. a few more tears slip out as you try to balance your injured leg on the tree branch beneath the window, and the desperation of wanting to give up clings to you.

you hear jungkook’s heavy and limping footsteps coming up the stairs, and you attempt to hurry, but you’re only halfway out of the window. when he crashes into the room, it’s unnervingly easy for him to grab your arm and yank your body back through the window, uncaring of how you get scraped up in the process.

he jams you up against the nightstand with one of the kitchen knives to your neck to stop your movements; his harsh maneuver causes the objects on the nightstand to rattle. the nightstand’s edge digs into the backs of your thighs, the pressure causing your wounded thigh to hurt more.

“you want to know why i picked you?” jungkook hisses, the knife’s blade stinging your throat as it begins to break skin. “you were just another choice out of many, but i decided you’d be the first one that i’d fuck and kill.”

it’s painful to hear, but it angers you at the same time. “fuck you!” in your rage, you spit in his eyes. jungkook jerks back and the knife shifts from its previous position at your neck; you take those few seconds to grasp the alarm clock off the nightstand and crash it against his head.

“shit—!” he cries out, stumbling and grasping the side of his head. he tries to grab for you again, but you jump onto the bed and crawl away from him, your stomach lurching at all of veronica’s blood soaked into the sheets. you spot a small decorative glass bowl on the dresser—the one filled with little candies that you’d always teased veronica for, saying she was so much like a grandma handing out treats to her grandchildren. when your feet touch the ground again, you clasp your hand around it like it’s a lifeline and fling it at jungkook’s head as hard as you can, just as he makes it around the bed to your side. the shards cut his face when it breaks, slowing him down further as he grabs his slashed and bleeding face. one of his eyes is blinded from the blood and glass.

this will probably be your only chance while he’s struggling to gather himself. you rush towards him with the knife handle tight in both of your hands and drive the blade into the middle of his chest, putting all your strength into that movement—just as his own knife impales your abdomen.

you are both simultaneously struck from the shock of being stabbed, and it takes you a few long moments to piece your mind back together as the pain radiates throughout your body. jungkook groans when you shift the knife around in his wound as you pull it out, letting his blood flow out freely. his breaths become wet and rattling as he chokes on his own blood, the red fluid staining his mouth and dripping down to his neck. he jams his knife further into your wound in retaliation so that the handle is flush against your body, causing your head to spin.

“i-if i die, i’m taking you w-with me.” jungkook gasps with his remaining effort. his body starts to sag from its standing position as he weakens, his hand slipping from the knife handle. he loosely grasps the comforter with one hand as he collapses to his knees, his torso becoming soaked with blood and his head bleeding from your earlier hits.

you drop your knife and lean against the bed too, shifting your body to find a position that could lessen the pain, but it’s impossible with a knife lodged in your abdomen. you know enough to understand that you’ll bleed out faster if you remove it, though, so you resist the urge. “you can rot in hell alone, jungkook.” you watch him struggle for what feels like minutes before his breaths stop altogether and his body slumps to the floor. he is just a blur of clothes and blood through your tears. you’ve never felt so lonely in your life.

you have a thought to call 911, but you’re becoming more and more lightheaded from the blood loss, and you can already hear sirens approaching on your street. you figure one of your neighbors must’ve called after hearing the gunshots; perhaps the bodyguard sent for backup before he was shot. your rescue has come much later than you would’ve preferred—or maybe everything just happened much faster than it seemed. you can’t tell anymore.

you can’t tell anymore, and you no longer want to look at the carnage around you, and nothing makes any sense. so, you close your eyes to it all; and when you feel someone lifting you in their arms—this sensation is so familiar—and maneuvering you onto a stretcher, you allow yourself to relent to it and empty your mind of everything.

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#jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fic #bts smut #bts x you #bts x reader #black reader #x black reader #x black fem reader #black fem reader #fem reader #female reader

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endlessthxxghts · 10 months

Text

Need You

Husband!Frankie Morales x wife!afab!reader || W/C: ≈5k

Summary: Tío Santi comes to the rescue when Frankie confides in him about how the two of you have been way too busy for one another.

Warnings: Crazy events of Triple Frontier don't happen; let's just give these guys some happiness. Instead of coke, Frankie’s drug is you (LMAOOO). No “y/n.” No physical descriptions of reader (besides clothing choices), she looks like you😏 and big strong man Frankie can carry you <333. Reader knows a bit of Spanish. SMUT 18+ MDNI. Oral sex (f receiving). Unprotected P in V sex. Slow and sloppy😵‍💫. Breeding kink. Domestic kink (they get really spurred on calling each other husband and wife/esposo y esposa). Possessive kink. Daddy kink (but in the sense that reader just loves seeing Frankie as a Dad and wants to give more babies to parent!!!). Pussy slapping... Cum play/eating. Vaginal fingering/fucking. Squirting. Slight Dom!Frankie (he just really wants to hear his wife beg for his cum!!). Mentions of shower ✨activities✨. A lot of love basically — physically and emotionally. Extra warning for the parents who can’t leave their child with other people — Tío Santi takes their baby out to eat and get treats; she’s in good hands, I promise!!!

A/N: Husband Frankie is rotting my brain bad. Especially girl dad!Frankie. My ovaries are screaming. So here's this little 5k bad boy I whipped up. This is very much a porn with a bit of (yummy domestic) plot. Hope y’all enjoy. Thank you to my sweet sweet bae @javierpena-inatacvest for proof-reading this and hyping me up since it’s my first Frankie story to be posted! I love you so much 🥹🥹💚 (edit: someone had a comment about why Isa is amorcito instead of amorcita, so in case you had that question as well, read my explanation here!)

MASTERLIST || NOTIF BLOG

“Querida, I’m home!” Frankie called out.

“In Isa’s room, baby!” you responded.

Santi tagged along on his treck home today, offering to take Isa out for lunch and sweets after Frankie told him how both of you have been crazy busy lately. He helps himself to the kitchen while Frankie makes his way to you.

Frankie lightly knocks on the door before entering, gasping out in delight to earn a bubbly reaction from his three year old daughter. “Ay, mi esposa (my wife),” he exclaims, giving you a soft kiss to your lips. He looks to his daughter and grabs her from you, “y mi amorcito (and my little love),” he says, throwing her up in the air, coaxing a few more giggles out of her.

He sets her back down to play with her toys, and Frankie turns to you, pulling you in for a proper hello. Your lips slot against each other in a needy embrace, still as reserved as you two can be with your child in the room. He pulls away first, arms not leaving your waist. “Hi, mama,” he says with an adoring smile. “Hi, honey,” you respond, heart still skipping a few beats as if it’s your first time meeting him. He guides you to outside the doorway, closing Isa’s room ajar, so you both are out of her view.

“Santi’s here,” he tells you. “He offered to, uh, take Isa out to get food and some dessert,” he adds nonchalantly, trying to gauge your reaction. It’s been three years since your baby was born, and still you’re always reluctant to leave her with others. It’s not that you don’t trust the people you leave her with, it’s the fact that if anything were to happen — Gods forbid — you wouldn’t be able to be there, to comfort and protect her.

Your eyebrow raises in response. He squeezes you tighter into him, ducking closer to your ear. “And I was thinking,” he kisses the sweet spot near your pulse point, “we could take some time for ourselves?” He continues kissing and nipping at your neck, uttering a small please baby as he makes his way back to your lips.

Little did Frankie know, you didn’t need any convincing at all. You were just about ready to drop her off at your parents as soon as he got home from work today. You don’t tell him though. You like hearing him be a little desperate for you.

His hand skates lower to your ass, the other hand making its way to cup your front. “It’s been weeks, baby, I need to taste her,” he says, damn near a whine.

You grab both sides of his face and pull him into a searing kiss. “Go pack her bag,” you whisper as you pull away from his grasp, making your way to Santi to give him the rundown.

In record time, Frankie packs Isa’s go bag in under five minutes: diapers, extra change of clothes, baby wipes, baby Benadryl, and some of her comfort snacks just in case she’s extra picky today. He picks up his baby, assessing if she needs a diaper change — she’s dry — and heads to the kitchen. “Wanna hang with Tío Santi today, mi amor?”

Her face lights up, and she squeals, “yes, daddy, pleeeeaaase!”

He chuckles, his heart warming at how much she loves his best friend, his brother.

He and Isa enter the kitchen to you giving Santi the rundown on her allergies.

“We exposed her to all the major allergens already and no reactions, except for peanuts — she gets a little red, so just watch out for that. There’ll be Benadryl in her pack just in case.”

Santi gives you a salute, “Sir, yes, sir.”

You playfully roll your eyes at his antics. “One more thing,” you say as you go to kiss your baby goodbye. “Usually I’d ask if you could send pictures throughout the time you’re gone…” you look at Frankie.

Santi smirks, knowing where this is headed.

“But you don’t have to. At least for today,” your face remains composed, but the heat spreading across your cheeks exposes you.

“Got it. No peanuts,” Santi says, reaching for the bag off Frankie’s shoulder and the keys from his pocket, “and no interruptions,” he winks at you both. “Let me know when you guys are ready for us to come back,” he looks to his beautiful niece in her mother’s arms, peppering her with goodbye kisses.

“Vamanos (let’s go), mija!” Santi says, prying her out of your arms. Frankie reaches to give her one last kiss on her forehead, and they’re out the door.

As soon as the front door clicks shut, Frankie is on you in an instant, too riled up to wait until you’re in the bedroom. He needs you badly, and he needs you now. He’s caging you in between his body and the kitchen counter, lips on you like he’ll die tonight if he doesn’t touch you. Your lungs are burning for air, yet you don’t pull away. You can’t. He’s too addicting. Too much time has passed without the pleasure you two bring one another, so you’ll sacrifice one survival need for another.

Before you know it, his hands are at the base of your ass, lifting you to the kitchen counter, and his lips are dragging down your jaw, your neck, and into your cleavage, nipping every little exposed place your cropped tank allows him. His hands are at the waistband of your sweats, pulling them down as he brings himself to his knees.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” he takes a deep breath in. His eyes are impossibly darker, demeanor turning animalistic as he feels just your sweats alone and no underwear. He gets a view of your already glistening pussy, and he can’t help the growl that leaves his throat.

He settles his hands under the globe of your ass and scoots you to the edge, your thighs finding solace on his shoulders. You immediately lean back on your elbows, knowing the moment his mouth is on you, your body will go weak at his touch.

Without any warning, his tongue licks the entirety of your leaking seam, hands automatically gripping you tighter as the taste of you hits his tongue. The sound that leaves you sends shivers down his spine, his cock painfully hard and leaking in his jeans. He licks you a few more times, letting his drool drip down his tongue and spread all over you, making you a soaking mess of your arousal and his spit.

Once you’re drenched to his liking, he dives right in, face completely flushed against your sex, sloppily sucking and licking into you, hitting all the right buttons to make you see fucking stars. By his hands or his tongue, he still knows how to steer you in the direction of the most beautiful constellations, even if they are behind your eyelids.

“Frankie, fuck-!” you yell out, your inhibitions automatically down with the fact that the house is left to the two of you. Frankie’s hips involuntarily buck into nothing at your moans, missing the sounds you always made for him. Ever since Isa was born, both of you made a conscious effort to work on your noise levels — especially you. You were the most vocal he’s ever been with, and fuck if it didn’t make him all the more whipped. He almost forgot what your sounds do to him. Almost. But now that you’ve given him a taste again after so long, he needs more.

He circles your clit a few times and sucks it, hard. He pulls off with a lewd pop, his dominant hand leaving your ass and making its way to your entrance. You’re such a fucking mess that his two fingers slide right in, giving you the extra push Frankie needed to pull more heavenly moans and whimpers out of you. “Let me hear you, mama,” he says, tongue circling your clit as his fingers work you to the edge. “Sing for me, baby,” and with what little strength you have, you force your head forward to watch his ministrations, and the sight is what sends you falling first. Frankie’s mouth is wrapped around the entirety of you, eyes dark and on yours, his hooked nose rubbing against all the right places while his arm muscles ripple as he fucks his fingers in and out of you.

“Shit- oh, fuck-” you whine out, your head like a bobble head, too heavy to maintain upright. Frankie curls his fingers just right, and-

“Oh my God, Francisco, oh my God!” Your hips are bucking into his face, his own strength unable to keep your hips down with how hard your orgasm is hitting you. He lets you ride out your wave on his face, drinking every last drop coming out of you.

His fingers are out of you now, Frankie immediately cleaning them in his mouth, not wanting to Iet any of your sweet syrup go to waste. Your chest is heaving, eyes clamped shut, and your body is entirely limp. Frankie stands to his full height, and he’s pulling you up to sit up straight, his hands guiding your legs to wrap around his waist. He chuckles a little. “Still with me?”

Your torso loses its strength momentarily, and you almost fall back. His arms immediately wrap around you, supporting you to maintain your upright position. You laugh at yourself, a blissed out smile gracing your face. He feels his heart flutter, just as strong as when he first met you. “Yeah, yeah, I’m here, you monster,” you lightly laugh, resting your head on him. “God, I love you,” your voice slightly muffled from burrowing yourself into his chest.

His one hand leaves your back and wraps itself around your jaw, bringing your lips up to his. You can taste yourself on him, and you can already feel another fire being lit deep in your core, your arousal dripping onto the kitchen counter as your lips continue with his.

You pull away, breathless, ready for more. “Take me to bed, baby.”

“You sure you’re ready now?” He smirks.

“Keep teasing, and I won’t let you cum inside of me, big boy.”

His lips find yours again in a bruising manner, a growl leaves him as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. “Last I checked, you were the one begging for me to fuck my cum so deep inside you that it had no other option but to latch on. If that’s what you want again, baby, all you gotta do is ask.”

You whimper in response, your spurt of dominance dissipating immediately.

“That what you want, baby? Come on, tell me. I wanna hear it.”

Your eyes are glossing over, too pent up with a fertile need to get your brain to come up with any kind of response. His grasp on your jaw tightens, his lips ghosting yours as he talks. “Tell me you want my cum, baby. Tell me you want me to fill you up so fucking full of me.”

“Yes, baby, fuck, I need you. I need you inside of me, I need you to fill me. Please, you’re such a good daddy, I wanna give you more, please,” you ramble on. His mouth is on you again in a sloppy embrace as he picks you up and guides you two to your bedroom.

He sets you down at the edge of the bed. He guides your shirt off, then his. He pulls back for a second and shucks his bottoms off, giving you a complete view of his tanned and toned naked body, his little tummy a little soft around the edges. Your pussy is crying at the sight.

You don’t waste anymore time as you settle yourself to the center of your bed, your legs already falling open with muscle memory. Frankie licks his lips at the sight. Part of him just wants to go down on you again, but the way his cock is screaming at him for release and your pussy is clenching on nothing—yeah, his oral fixation can wait.

He settles himself in between your legs. His hands are grounded into the pillow beside your head as your legs automatically hook around his waist. He rubs his length across your wetness, you mewl for him as he lets his tip drag across your clit.

“Baby, please,” you whine.

“I’ve got you, baby.”

His tip breaches your entrance. God, you’ve missed him so much, and you tell him exactly that.

His lips are on yours, never really satiated with the amount of kisses he takes from you, “I fuckin’ missed you so much.” He pushes deeper in. “God, my beautiful wife, I love you so much,” he breathes out as his lips graze your temple.

His hips are flushed with yours, your hands secure themselves around his neck. “Please, baby, let’s never go this long again, I need you so bad,” he rasps. He’s pulling out again, his head kissing your core. “Need you always,” he says as he pushes back in, maintaining a slow but hard rhythm.

You pull him impossibly closer into you, your hands grasping and feeling him anywhere you can reach. You rock your hips to meet every push and pull of his own, lips ghosting each other with each movement, your eyes threatening to roll back at how entirely full you feel.

He’s taking his fucking time with you tonight, fucking you slowly into the mattress, harder with each thrust, reveling in sound of your pussy each time he pushes in, and he can’t help the way he smiles into the sloppy kisses and shared breaths.

You’re a complete mess, tears falling from your eyes at how addicting he feels mixed with the pure love you have for this man. You really don’t even register what you’re babbling about, but that doesn’t matter. Frankie’s in heaven listening to a mixture of your drawn out moans, the occasional Lord’s name in vain, and the repeated I love you, baby, I love you so much.

One of his hands drag down to your clit, rubbing clumsy yet perfect circles, forcing your dam to finally break. He’s completely soaked in you and so are your thighs and the bedsheets. Your fall is slow but all-consuming. Your back arches into him, your nipples rubbing deliciously against his chest, and the feeling is the final push that sends him painting your walls white.

His hand leaves your swollen clit and wraps itself around your lower back, helping you maintain your arch form as he continues rocking himself into you well into his softened state. He can feel your body start to tense out of overstimulation, so he finally pulls out of you, leaving you a leaking mess of both your and his cum. He sits back on his hunches, his fingers drawing circles on your inner thighs, just admiring the sight until his cock begins to stir again.

“Jesus, Morales,” you giggle breathily as you clocked the jump of his length.

He leans over you again, giving you a sweet, lengthy kiss as he begins to slide himself off the bed. “What can I say, baby? I’m insatiable with you,” he gives you a mischievous smirk.

He heads to the kitchen, returning to the bedroom with a chilled glass of water for you. “Drink up,” he says.

Before he makes it to the en suite bathroom, he adds, “I’m not done with you yet, mama.”

Despite the sensitivity down there, your pussy flutters at his words, craving him down there in any way shape or form.

He returns with a warm cloth, cleaning you up as best as he can with your second round of slick and his endless load of cum pouring from you. He sets the cloth down somewhere on the floor and situates himself up against the headboard. He wordlessly guides you to lay between his legs, your chest resting against his.

“Wanna check on Isa?” Frankie asks, albeit a little shy. You smirk a little, knowing you’re usually the one to cave first. You make grabby hands at your phone on the nightstand, nudging Frankie to grab it since his wingspan is much larger than yours. He hands it to you, and you immediately dial Santi, hitting the speaker button as it rings.

“Hey, Santi.”

“Hey, Mrs. Fish,” you can hear him laugh at his name for you. Frankie also gives a little laugh. He thought it was the funniest thing he’s ever said during your guys’ wedding reception. He calls you that more than your own name now.

“How’s it going?” you try to ask in an unconcerned fashion. Santi knows you both all too well to know that isn’t the case.

“You know you two didn’t have to quit just to check on her, right? Tío Santi knows how to distract! Also, tío Santi knows how to put her down for a nap!” He says proudly.

“I believe you, Santi, don’t worry. Just checking. Frankie just kept bugging-”

Before you could continue your sentence, Frankie’s hands immediately go to your sides, hitting all your ticklish spots. You scream out, a loud stream of giggles leaving you.

“Coño, por favor, not while I’m on the phone!” You hear Santi say. “Sorry, Sorry,” you say, still out of breath from Frankie’s merciless attack.

“Actually, Santi, can I ask another favor?”

Frankie looks at you confused. You smirk at him. “Is tío Santi prepared for his first sleepover?” His confusion fades and immediately his eyes are consumed with pure lust, his soft brown eyes turning black.

Santi is silent for a moment. “You two are downright feral, you know that, right?”

You stifle a laugh. “Ay Dios mío (oh my God),” Frankie mutters.

“As long as I get another niece — or nephew, I really have no preference — in nine months time…” Santi trails off in thought. “Then I’d dedicate every damn weekend to her,” he says.

You turn your head around and up to meet Frankie’s eyes, both of you in shock at Santi’s silent invitation, silence fills the air for a moment before you finally bring yourself to speak.

“Oh? Alright, then,” you softly say. “Thank you, Santi, you’re the best. We’ll text you, okay? Bye,” you hang up, not giving Santi any chances to return the call-ending formalities. You and Frankie are still looking at each other, eyes wild at the proposition before you.

“Every weekend, huh?” Frankie says, breaking the tension first. His head dips down to place a kiss where your neck and shoulder meet.

You suck in a breath, arousal forming faster than a strike of lightning. “Mhm,” you barely get out. His hands are roaming your body now, your phone thrown haphazardly somewhere in the room, long forgotten. He places his hands on the insides of your thighs, spreading you open and keeping them atop his own legs, so he can hold you open. His one hand is spread largely over your lower belly while his other hand is already teasing your core.

His finger circles directly on your clit, you yelp in response, your body twitching. “Every weekend, I’m gonna get to fuck my wife, huh?” Frankie says into your ear. “Gonna fill her full of me?” Your hips buck at the huskiness of his voice, of his possessiveness over you. Your response is incoherent, more of a moan than anything. Next thing you know, your room reverberates with the noise of a wet slap.

He spanked your pussy. The sound that escapes your throat is beyond arousing, Frankie’s cock back to life, dripping on your lower back. “Answer me properly, baby,” he says again, softly. His fingers are circling your clit again, forcing more of your wetness out of you, his cum from earlier still seeking its place on your bedsheets.

“Mmm, fuck-” you breathe, “Yes, yes, every weekend, baby,” you’re nodding your head frantically as you try to keep your eyes trained on his actions down below. “Every weekend you’re gonna make me so full,” you whimper, “Gonna fuck a baby into me, daddy, I need you so bad.”

He slides two of his fingers into you at your words, his hips grind into your back at the feel of your warmth, of his spend keeping you nice and wet. His fingers pump in and out of you at a languid pace, his fingers arching in a come-here motion to beckon more of his cum onto his fingers. He pulls out of you momentarily, analyzing the mess he’s made. “Open, querida,” he whispers, likely in a trance at the sight.

You open your mouth, tongue out and ready. He sticks his fingers into your mouth, and you lap up his salty spend greedily, as if it were the sweetest of syrups. You taste a distinct tanginess on his fingers, most likely the product of your own arousal. Your eyes fall shut at your taste, eyes feeling heavy and too blissed out to stay open. He pulls out of your mouth with a pop and grabs your chin, turning your face to his. He pulls you in for an open-mouthed kiss, wet and hot. His hand leaves your face and returns to your core. His fingers are back inside you, pushing in and out as his palm grinds perfectly into your clit. Your hips are moving in tandem, providing you with the perfect rhythm to soak him all over again. His lips never break from your own, tongues dancing in a way only you two get to know.

Your hand seeks purchase at the back of his neck, tugging at the base of his curls, taking away his opportunity to break away from you. He moans into your mouth at the sharp sensation, your lower back a sticky mess from how much he’s leaking onto you.

Finally, you break away, lips still connected by the thinnest of spit lines. “Baby, I- I’m gonna cum, shit-”

Frankie lets out a growl, desperate to have you fall apart on him. He maintains his same pace, adding a bit more pressure of his palm to your clit, his other hand pushing harder down into your belly, knowing how crazy the stimulation drives you. “Give it to me,” he mumbles in your ear, his heavy breathing fanning across your cheek. “Need it, baby. Need you,” he whines.

“Fuck-!” you yell out, head pushing harder into his shoulder, eyes clamping shut and forming white, blinding fireworks beneath your eyelids. He fucks his fingers in you as you ride out your high, tears letting loose as your pussy squirts into his hand and all over both your bottom halves.

The sight transforms him into a cumming mess, the only stimulation being the friction from your backside as he rutted into you. You don’t notice the warm wetness between your bodies until your body falls completely limp against him, breathing still heavy but slowly returning to normal. Frankie bejewels your face with sweet kisses — from your temples to the edge of your shoulder that he can reach — as you slowly come back to Earth.

You look up at him now, a soft smile spread across your face. His heart stutters at the sight. You shift your back a little. “Did you…?”

“Yes, I did,” Frankie admits way too quickly, embarrassment flooding his face.

You pull him into one more kiss before you start to get up. “Come on. Shower and then we eat,” you tell him. “You didn’t get to settle yourself down after work,” you add, slightly scolding him for his impatience yet also silently thanking him.

“I can always eat in the shower,” Frankie adds suggestively, his eyes giving your body a once over as you stand beside the bed, waiting for him to get a move on.

“Morales!” you gasp out. “Bad,” you say, shaking your head from side to side.

“You know it’s gonna happen, mi amor (my love),” he says as he stands, arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you into him, seeking your warmth.

And it does happen. He makes you fall apart on his tongue twice, and you pay him back by reducing him down to jelly legs as you fuck his cum down your throat. By the time you two actually start your shower, the water is completely cold, not one drop of hot water available.

Post-shower, you two cook a fast, simple meal, too eager to be on each other again, but too aware of how important it is to give your body sustenance in order to continue with your feral behavior. You only get a few hours of sleep that night. Falling asleep after each round only to wake back up a horny, dripping mess just to fuck again. You don’t remember the last time you two did something like this, but damn were you two needing it. You made a mental note to thank Santi for his much needed offer.

The next morning you wake up at seven, the first sensation you feel for the day is your sore pussy, red and puffy as she begs you to give her a break. You look at the knocked out man beside you, give him a kiss on the forehead and break away from his hold, bringing yourself to the bathroom. You take your phone with you.

[07:13] Just woke up. Drop Isabela off whenever you’re ready.

[07:15] God, no wonder she’s up already. She’s got your early ass schedule.

You laugh to yourself, picturing Santi a half asleep man child as your daughter crawls all over him, forcing him to get up, too. What Santi didn’t know was that it was actually Isa’s schedule that you were on.

[07:16] Pobrecito (poor thing). :(

[07:16] She’ll probably be asking for Frankie soon. She always cuddles him in the morning.

[07:17] Yep, she just did. I’ll feed her some breakfast now, then we’ll be on our way. That good, Mrs. Fish?

[07:18] If it’s good with little Fish, then it’s good with me.

He sends you a thumbs up, and you set your phone down. You wash up and get ready for the day.

After you brush your teeth and wash your face, you head to Frankie’s side of the closet and grab one of his soft, cotton tees to throw on.

You head to the kitchen, your first course of action being to fire up the espresso machine. Espresso is the only form of coffee you drink, and soon enough, Frankie followed in your footsteps. Just as you suspected, as soon as the smell of the beans filled the air, Frankie appeared in the kitchen. His sleepy eyes and sexed out hair on display nearly cause your knees to buckle, your aching pussy betraying your want for a lazy morning.

He makes his way to you and kisses you, soft and slow, probably needing a lazy morning just as much as you. “Good morning, mi esposa (my wife),” he says, voice still raspy from sleep.

“Mmm, good morning, mi esposo (my husband),” you smile up at him. “Sleep well?”

“With the sleep that I did get, I’d say yeah,” he says. “You really tired me out, hermosa (beautiful),” he adds.

You pull him down for another kiss. You’ll never tire of the feeling. “Waffles?”

His eyes light up, a boyish grin on his face. “Yes, please.”

Around 8:30 as you and Frankie finish your waffles, the front door is unlocking. A little girl with crazy hair comes busting in, running straight for the both of you to pull you guys into a tight group hug.

“Mommy! Daddy!” she screams.

“Mi amorcito,” Frankie responds, matching her energy. “Mi niña loca (my crazy girl),” you squeal. “I missed you so much!” you add.

You and Frankie kiss each of her cheeks, sandwiching her little face.

“Did you have fun with tío Santi?” you ask.

“So much fun, mommy! We had ice cream for break-”

Before she could finish, Santi chimes in. “O-o-okayyyyy, Isa!” he claps his hand once. “Why don’t you bring this to your room,” he hands her a tiny gift bag — probably the product of some shopping they did — “while I talk to mommy and daddy?”

“Okay, tío Santi!” She takes the bag and makes her way to her room.

Your eyebrows are raised in mock scolding as you wait for Santi to explain himself. “Hey! In my defense, those puppy dog eyes are a killer. I couldn’t say no.”

The three of you break out into laughter, Frankie going in for a hug, clapping Santi on the back as he releases him.

“Waffles?” you offer Santi. He graciously accepts, making his way to the other side of the kitchen counter, helping himself.

“So-” you and Frankie say at the same time. Santi pauses his actions mid-bite.

Frankie nudges you to speak first. You clear your throat to ease the awkwardness in the room.

“So,” you start again. “Were you, uh… were you serious about watching Isa?” you ask?

“Every weekend?” Frankie adds.

You giggle, nodding an affirmative at your husband. “Yes, every weekend?”

Santi finishes the bite he paused on, and sets his waffle down. “You dirty dogs!” he says.

“Pope, come on,” Frankie’s palms go over his cheeks that are currently turning red at Santi’s teasing.

He lets out a laugh. “Sí, cabrón (yes, asshole),” Santi says, slapping Frankie’s shoulder. “Of course I’m serious. I’d do anything for both of you, and especially that demon of a little girl.”

Your heart warms at Santi’s sentiment. You’re beyond grateful Frankie has a best friend like him.

“On one condition,” Santi adds, his eyebrow quirked up.

“Anything,” you say eagerly. Frankie nods his head in agreement with you.

“I also wasn’t kidding when I said I’d need another sobrino (niece/nephew).”

You and Frankie look at each other, your stares saying everything they needed to. Yeah, Santi didn’t need to worry about that.

And you were right when the next Saturday morning, a month and four tío Santi sleepovers later, you and Frankie presented Santi with your pregnancy test displaying two pink lines.

End note: Thank you all so much for reading! Likes, comments, reblogs, etc, — all your support means the absolute world to me. I wouldn’t be able to do this without all of you. Thank you so so so much. There are genuinely not enough words to express my gratitude. As always feedback for my stories (at a technical sense) is also super super helpful whether it is constructive or positive! Anything helps me to be the best writer that I can be. All my love! Xo

Tags: @katiexpunk @janaispunk @farmerlarrry @mellymbee @jobee403 @soavenuepenguin @rainbowcosmicchaos @untamedheart81 @babygal-babygal @pedritoferg @suzdin @getitoutofmymind @pedrostories

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged or removed!

EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!

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me-writes-prompts · 1 year

Text

More underrated tropes>>>

(Tag me!!! Also, Let me know if you have any more tropes that I should add to this list!!)

By @me-writes-prompts

Low energy x way too much energy

Tired college student x overachiever who never shuts up

Buff x more buff

"Is this what people call a date?" x "We're literally trying to murder each other right now."

Unbelievably depressed funny x unbelievably depressed serious

Can kill you x will actually kill you

Book lover x coffee lover

Needs google maps everywhere they go x has traveled so much that they know every place

Undercover agent x police officer whose stuck with them

Procrastinates and binges netflix x "Productivity is everything"

"Uh huh, we're not buying any more pints of ice cream." x "What? Whyyyy, we've only got like 5 of my favorite flavours! We have a long way to go, love."

Has the best puppy eyes x gets attacked by the said puppy eyes

"we're just friends-" x "with benefits."

Night owl x early bird

Loves to receive gifts x loves to give them gifts<333333

Loves red x hates red

Gym beast x shy painter

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dotster001 · 1 year

Text

Dark End

A/N: Another, For Tuna, custom content end is here! I've tagged everyone from the of tag list, and everyone who voted for this particular end. If you wanna add your vote for the next one, you can do so in the comments here.

CW: Kidnapping, Yandere, manipulation

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Choose Another Ending

You groaned, and lifted your head, your neck aching from resting in that position for so long.

Wait.

How long was it?

The last thing you remembered, you were sipping tea with Jade, and he had said something about 'going home'. You made to stretch, and realized your hands were restrained behind your back. You shook yourself in your chair, hoping the chains were loose, but alas, nothing.

But the rattling was also how you realized you were not on the surface.

The bubbles around you cleared, and you were met with two pairs of glowing, mismatched eyes. You couldn't help but roll your own as you released a released breath.

"Ha ha, very funny. You guys got me." You were used to the twins…. unconventional….pranks, at this point. You were pretty sure this one was to illustrate how easily you could be gently kidnapped. They'd been telling you to up your security system for months now.

"Heh heh," two voices echoed from the darkness.

"I get the point, I'll buff up security, and let you walk me to classes. Now are you going to untie me, or have I not learned my lesson yet?"

The glowing eyes turned to each other, before turning back to you. You shivered, your gut telling you you wouldn't like the expressions they were giving one another.

"Fu fu, while we appreciate you finally listening to us, that's not what we are here to discuss today," Jade said, his ever present smirk able to be heard in his tone.

The pair of eyes you knew to be Floyd's swum closer to you, bringing his eel form into view. No matter how many times you saw it, it took your breath away. So handsome, and yet so intimidating. But when you got over your initial awe, you noticed him holding a struggling, and gagged, Grim in his arms.

"What's happening here?" You laughed nervously.

"Hmm? Oh! Sealio," Floyd giggled, as though it wasn't obvious."See, he graciously volunteered to work for our family business!"

Jade swam up next to his brother, and gently scratched the top of Grim's head.

"So generous. But we need collateral, just in case something were to go wrong. Namely, you."

The twins looked at you expectantly, and you released another nervous laugh.

"Ha ha, very funny."

Floyd scowled, and Grim winced as his grip on him tightened.

"I don't know how we can be any clearer with you, Shrimpy. We. Want. You."

"Uh…"

You were starting to get the impression that you weren't the one being held for collateral here.

But with the look in their eyes, you should definitely play their game.

"Um, how long would I be collateral?"

"I dunno, Grimmy what do you think?" Floyd jiggled Grim a little, and you heard some jumbled words from behind Grim's gag.

"Interesting point, Grim," Jade said thoughtfully. "It sounds like he wants to work with us…forever?"

The twins both looked at each other in, clearly mock, surprise.

"That's so cool of you, baby seal!" Floyd hugged him tightly in excitement. "But obviously, Y/N's gotta make some agreements first."

The twins looked at you, sinister grins mimicking one another in perfect synch.

"What kind of agreements?"

"I'm so glad you asked!" Jade said, pulling out a golden contract that you assumed they had gotten off of Azul. He pulled out a pen, running the top lightly along your jaw.

"We're going to unlock one of your hands, and you'll sign this for us."

"What does it say?"

"Fu fu fu, we'll worry about that part. All you need to do is look into Grim's sad, pathetic eyes, and sign the contract. Think you can do that for me?" It felt like he was saying it to a toddler. But you guessed since you were the one who was so easily gently kidnapped, it was probably necessary for you to be talked down on.

"Okay," you said shakily.

"Wonderful!" Jade swam behind you, and you felt his fingers gently brush your dominant hand, before fumbling with the lock of that particular chain. He placed the pen in it, then firmly placed his hands on your shoulders. Just in case you were stupid enough to get any ideas.

You brought your hand forward, signed the contract, and then…

Huh.

How bout that?

What were you doing here?

Oh, there was Floyd!

And, you could tell from the distinctive cologne, Jade was behind you, massaging your shoulders, and softly kissing along your neck.

How sweet of him.

Sevens, you love them so much.

You just want to be with them forever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever.

And ever.

The End

....

Tag list- @stygianoir @leonia0 @lleoll @eccedentesiast-sapphic @supertmntgirl @cxsmicdustdreams @aethermostbeloved @krystalkiller25 @asmallbean3 @theneurodivergentdummy @candlewitch-cryptic @smilingfox22-blog @phantomgaming1920 @the-dumber-scaramouche @noidonothavetimeforthis @bontensbabygirl @xxoomiii @somany-fandoms-solittle-time @bre99 @stupidsimp @sus0daddy @a-small-tyrant @imlost-sendhelp @mizukiblogs @offpaperponies @names-are-dumb @krenenbaker @dragontamer222 @soapybubbles0 @homestuckotaku @jackalope08

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #floyd x reader #floyd leech x reader #floyd leech #yan! floyd leech x reader #yan! floyd leech #yandere floyd leech #yandere floyd x reader #jade leech x reader #jade x reader #twst jade #yan! jade leech #yan! jade leech x reader #yandere jade leech #yandere jade x reader #for tuna

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writingforstraykids · 7 months

Note

Nat, could you write sub Changbin with dom chan? And Changbin is too shy to ask so Felix does? For the 💌 event

This was supposed to be a drabble...You could say I got carried away. That's what happens when you add some angst into it, I hope I did your request justice love🥹🖤

You're so cute

Pairing: Binchan

Word Count: 5823

Warnings/Tags: smut, shy!sub!changbin, caring!dom!chan, oral, dry humping, face sitting, changbin is insecure about his weight, emotional hurt!comfort, semi-public sex

A/N: Thanks to @galaxycatdrawz for sharing some thoughts (I hope I didn't spoiler you too much)🖤

Part of the 💌 event. More here

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Felix gently tugs on his friend's sleeve and pulls him with him. “Come on,” he laughs.

“Felix, I changed my mind; this is embarrassing,” Changbin whines softly.

“There's nothing embarrassing about it, I promise,” Felix assures him and squeezes his hand. “Also, Chan is amazing; he'll know what to do.”

“It kinda is,” he argues and groans softly as they reach Chan's room and Felix knocks. “Felix.”

“Chan will get it; I bet he'd love helping you out with this,” Felix says and pushes him inside.

Chan's at his desk, humming softly to himself, and turns in his chair. “Hey,” he smiles at them and waves towards his bed, inviting them to sit down. “Everything alright?”

“Splendid,” Felix grins and pulls Changbin with him.

“That's good,” Chan smiles and saves the file he's been working on. “You need anything?”

“I don't,” Felix smirks smugly and Changbin whines in protest. Chan frowns at them and Felix nods at Changbin. “He needs some help.”

“I swear I hate you,” Changbin groans, and Chan gets up.

“What's up? Are you okay?” Chan asks worriedly and casually rubs his back.

“Mhm,” Changbin hums and nervously fidgets with his hands in his lap. It must be so easy and nice to let Chan be in control.

Chan sits down next to him and frowns softly. “Hey, you can tell me,” he says gently, and if it wouldn't be so damn embarrassing, he would.

“I-uh,” he stammers and feels his ears burning up at the mere thought of saying what's on his mind.

Felix takes the hint and gets Chan's attention. “So, you love being in control having sex, right?”

Chan chokes on his breath at the sudden bluntness but nods. “Yes?”

“Changbin usually does as well,” he continues, and Chan nods again, growing a little confused. “But he's been curious about switching it up, you know,” Felix says, and Chan hums softly.

“Yeah, okay,” he nods, still not really knowing where this conversation is heading. “And that worries you or-?” he asks Changbin, but Felix answers instead.

“You're missing the point here. There's a reason we came to you with this. Changbin’s too shy to ask, but he'd love getting fucked stupid by you,” he grins, and Changbin’s eyes widen, cheeks flushing red.

“Felix,” he whispers, shocked.

“Oh,” Chan breathes out and blinks at them.

“I-I didn't say it like that,” Changbin stammers and punches Felix's arm awkwardly. “Oh my God, this is so bad, I'm leaving,” he gets up, eyes widening as Chan's hand finds his and holds him back.

“No, no, let's talk about this, yeah?” he asks soothingly, and Changbin sits down heavily. “Thanks, Lix, I'll take it from here.”

Felix smirks and gets up. “Have fun, you two,” he says cheerfully and hops out of the room, making Chan giggle.

“Menace,” Changbin chuckles before glancing at Chan nervously. “I'm sorry for throwing it into your face like that.”

“It's fine,” he giggles and tilts his head at him curiously. “But you'd like to try that out? Being submissive?”

Changbin nods gently and can barely meet his eyes. “I just felt like…I don't know. Whenever I thought about it, I imagined I'd feel safest with you trying that out.”

“That's sweet,” Chan smiles softly.

“You don't have to if you don't want to,” he quickly adds. “I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable or anything just to help me out and-,” his eyes widen as Chan's hand cups his cheek.

“Breathe,” he says soothingly, rubbing his thumb across his cheekbone. “I'd love to share those intimate moments with you, Binnie. I wouldn't see it as me helping you out or doing you a favor. I'd enjoy it, honestly, and I love that you're willing to trust me with this.”

Changbin exhales a breath he didn't know he was holding. “Oh, okay,” he smiles shyly.

“But you've never been on the receiving end? Also, no fingers, no tongue, nothing?” he asks gently, and Changbin shakes his head.

“Nothing…is that a problem?” he asks timidly.

“Not at all,” Chan reassures him calmingly. “Means we can slowly work our way up, see what you like and what you don't like,” he tells him, and his friend nods, relieved. “You wanna cuddle and set up some boundaries and stuff?”

Not much later, Changbin’s head is comfortably lying on Chan's chest as the older plays with his hair. They've talked through their boundaries and settled on the color system and preferences. Chan does most of the work, asking his way forward and trying to ease Changbin, who's still awfully embarrassed about it all. It gets better here in Chan's arms, who doesn't seem to be bothered by one bit he reveals about himself.

“Feeling better now?” Chan asks gently, scratching his scalp.

“I still feel shy but not as nervous anymore,” he confesses, and Chan hums softly. “Can we…Can we just kiss for a bit tonight?” he asks timidly, and Chan giggles adoringly.

“Of course, we can,” he says and gently pats his back, sitting up against the headboard of his bed. He locks eyes with him and pats his thighs. “Come here.”

He swallows softly and chews on his lower lip. “I'm too heavy,” he whispers timidly, and Chan's face falls at the pain in his eyes.

“Binnie,” he says softly before lifting him into his lap effortlessly and smiling at him. “You're not, not to me.” He soothingly fondles up his thighs and searches his eyes. “You're okay?”

“Yeah,” he nods quickly and hesitantly wraps his arms around his neck. He shivers as Chan's hands find his hips and locks eyes with him.

Chan flashes him a reassuring smile and squeezes his hips before leaning in a little. “Can I kiss you?” he asks politely.

“Yes, please,” he breathes out so naturally it surprises him for a second. He doesn't have much time to think, though, because Chan's hand cradles his cheek, and their lips brush together. He melts into the kiss, body automatically searching Chan's, eyes fluttering close.

Chan hums softly and weaves his fingers into Changbin’s hair, keeping him in place as they kiss. His unoccupied hand travels below his shirt and up his back, making the younger male melt into his touch with a soft sound. Chan is testing the waters as they kiss, hand roaming his strong back, and he slowly detaches himself from his lips. Leaving a trail of kisses down his jaw, he gently pulls him back by his hair before kissing his neck.

Changbin breathes out shakily at the change, hand hesitantly burying itself in Chan's curls as he paints his neck with loving kisses and tiny nibbles at his skin. “Chan hyung,” he whispers after a while, squirming a little in his lap. Chan hums against his collarbone, leaving a trail of kisses there. As he doesn't answer, Chan pulls back, and Changbin blushes furiously. He wants, no, needs more, but he doesn't know how to ask.

Luckily, Chan seems to understand and gently tugs at the hem of his sweater. “Can I take that off?” His friend nods timidly, and Chan kisses him soothingly as he eases the fabric up his chest before pulling back to take it off. “Mine as well?” he offers and lets Changbin take his sweater off for him.

Chan lowers Changbin onto his mattress and straddles his lap, hovering above him. He continues his trail of kisses down his neck, gently sucking at the small bites to mark him up. Moving further down on top of him, he kisses down his chest, groaning softly as he can bury his teeth in his pecs. He laps at his nipples, sucking softly and grazing his teeth over his buds. Changbin beneath him moans sweetly, clearly trying to keep the noise down, and Chan lets him for now.

Chan takes his time, painting a beautiful picture of love all over his torso. Small bites growing into pretty marks adorn his hips, featherlight kisses trail along the hem of his boxers, and Changbin can't stop squirming beneath him. After checking in and getting consent, Chan gently shoves down his sweatpants, continuing his trail down his thighs before going back up on his inner thighs. His fingers sink into his skin, spreading his legs when he tries to shy away the closer he gets to where he needs him most. Very obviously by now.

Chan rests his head on his thigh once he's done after what felt like hours of soft pleasure for Changbin. He glances up at him through his lashes, and Changbin gulps softly at how blown his pupils look. “We don't have to, but would you like to try how my tongue feels for now?”

“You mean…,” he trails off as Chan nods and a low moan escapes his lips. “Please, Chan hyung,” he nods quickly.

They change their spots in bed once more, letting Changbin get comfortable against Chan's pillows. Chan smiles down at him and brushes back his hair for him, which is already sticking to his forehead a little. His eyes are wide and hungry, his lips swollen, and his cheeks flushed. “I know I said it before, but you're so beautiful,” he tells him softly, only deepening the blush on his cheeks.

“Stop it,” he mumbles weakly, and everything about his body language tells Chan differently.

Chan gently shoves a pillow beneath his hips and locks eyes with him again. “You're ready?” he checks in, and Changbin nods, blushing softly as Chan eases down his boxers, already stained a little from Chan’s body brushing against his lap whenever he has moved on top of him. “Say yellow if you need a break, red if you want to stop, okay?” he reminds him, and the younger male nods, biting his lower lip hard as Chan gets comfortable between his legs. “Words, beautiful.”

His lips part softly, body shivering at the small compliment and Chan makes a mental note of it for another time. “Yes, Chan hyung,” he nods, and Chan hums, clearly pleased. For a second, his nervosity takes the upper hand, and he’s about to stop Chan as he spreads his cheeks, but all protest dies in his throat when Chan’s tongue licks up slowly between them. His lips part with a soft gasp as Chan’s tongue circles his tensing hole, hands gripping the sheets tightly at the unfamiliar feeling. “Oh, fuck,” he whispers, and Chan chuckles softly, making Changbin gasp at the vibrations shooting through his body from it.

Chan gently presses his tongue inside after a while, and Changbin falls apart above him with a soft whimper. He gently guides his legs onto his shoulders and soothingly rubs his thighs as he pushes in deeper. A strangled groan leaves his lips as he tries to keep quiet, unsure if Chan would mind him being loud or maybe even whiny if he kept going like that. He throws his arm over his face, trying to hide as Chan makes him fall apart with his damn tongue only. Chan glances up at him, pulling back and smirking at the whine that leaves his lips. “Binnie,” he says softly, giggling as he glances at him shyly. “Make as much noise as you want to,” he assures him, and Changbin can tell he means it. “Also, you can touch, baby,” he tells him and gently guides his hand down to his hair.

“O-Okay,” he stumbles over his words, not trying to be desperate and beg him to continue.

Chan giggles adoringly and squeezes his thighs. “You’re so cute.”

“I’m not cute-” he protests and breaks off with a sweet moan as Chan eases his tongue back inside. “Nevermind,” he huffs, grip tightening on Chan’s hair to steady himself. He pulls at the sheets with a desperate little sound, and Chan reaches up, gently easing the fabric from his hand and replacing it with his own. He intertwines their fingers and lovingly squeezes his hand.

Chan pulls back after another while when Changbin’s moans turn needy and at the edge of frustration. “Need more?” he asks, and Changbin nods weakly. “Would you be okay with me using my fingers?”

“Yes, hyung,” he nods, heart warming at how caring Chan is with him, always making sure he's okay.

“Okay, try to relax, yeah?” he tells him and fumbles for the bottle of lube stored away in his bedside table. He spreads some on his fingers and watches Changbin observantly as he pushes the first one inside. “Breathe,” he tells him softly, and Changbin’s head falls back with a soft noise. Chan gently pulls his finger out a little before pushing back in. “Feels okay?”

“s’good,” he groans and soon asks for more. A loud moan leaves his lips as Chan scissors two fingers inside of him, stretching him out deliciously. He covers his mouth in shock, and Chan giggles softly, leaning down.

He gently takes his hand away and replaces it with his lips, kissing him and stifling his next moan.

Changbin shudders beneath him and kisses back fiercely. He's so close, and he can't even blame himself because Chan's kissing session before had worked him up so much already. “Hyung,” he moans out weakly, subconsciously fucking back against his fingers. “I'm so close.”

Chan hums and curls his fingers, dragging them over his prostate. Changbin’s body tenses, eyes rolling back and mouth dropping with the prettiest moan so far.

His world explodes before his eyes with white, hot flashes as he paints their chests with thick ropes of cum. Chan's name tumbles from his lips, and he can't stop shaking at the intensity of his orgasm. He doesn't fully register Chan leaving as his brain tries to accept the fact that he just came untouched.

Chan gently cleans him up and reaches up to brush his hair from his face once he's done. “You're okay?”

“More than okay,” he smiles shyly and leans into his touch.

“Let's take a nice shower, and then we can cuddle if you want,” he offers, and Changbin nods gently.

Once they're in the shower and Changbin gets a full view of his hyung, his brain stops working for a moment. He's on his knees before he can fully process it and stares up at him with wide eyes. “Can I make you feel good in return?” he asks, blushing a little at Chan's intense gaze. Chan gives in, suspecting Changbin feels like he has to repay him.

The moment Changbin welcomes him in the wet warmth of his mouth Chan's head drops back against the tiles of his shower with a loud groan. He definitely knows what he’s doing.

Two weeks later

Changbin glances at Chan in the recording booth and shifts a little in his chair. Since their night together, none of them had made a move. Chan wanted to give Changbin the time he needed, and Changbin chickened out at least three times this week at the thought of asking for more. It's getting harder to stop himself today since it's just them. Watching Chan work has always been something he enjoyed.

“How was that, Binnie?” Chan's voice pulls him from his thoughts.

“Uh, let's listen back to it,” he says and tries to listen, but Chan groans as he hears the recording, bringing up memories of their shared shower.

“No, delete that one,” Chan shakes his head before lifting his shirt to wipe his face, getting hot in the booth.

Changbin can't help but stare at his bare stomach, the waistband of his boxers clearly on display. Shit. “Chan hyung?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah?” Chan asks, grabbing the sheets with his text and mindlessly switching them.

“How long did Jisung say he'd be gone?” he asks, and Chan frowns.

“I don't know, I think another hour or two,” he shrugs. “Why?”

“Because I…I need you,” he admits, and the sheets slip from Chan's fingers.

He quickly bends down to gather them and hits his head at the microphone coming back up. “Yeah, okay, shit,” he curses softly and steps out of the booth. “Here? Now?” he asks, and Changbin blushes heavily.

“I didn't exactly think this through,” he confesses, and the grin that covers Chan's lips at that makes him squeeze his thighs together tightly.

“Mhm, I think to go all the way for the first time, we should stick to home,” he says, and Changbin nods agreeingly. “But I do have something in my mind since last time.”

“Yeah?” he asks softly, heart warming at the fact that Chan's been thinking about him as well.

“Mhm,” Chan hums softly. “I really want to eat you out while you sit on my face,” he says, ears burning up a little. At first, Changbin seems intrigued, but suddenly, a shadow travels over his face, and he timidly lowers his gaze. “Or not?” he asks gently.

Changbin fidgets with his hands and shakes his head. “I can't.”

“We don't have to if you don't want to; that's okay,” Chan promises, worried that he overstepped a boundary now.

“No, I-I want to, I just-” he swallows hard, feeling tears burning in his eyes as memories crash down on him in waves and threaten to drown him. “I'm too heavy,” he whispers.

Chan kneels down on the floor in front of his chair and gently unclasps his hands, taking them. That's the second time he mentioned this. “Binnie,” he says softly. “Where's that coming from, hm? Who told you such bullshit?” Changbin exhales shakily and glances at Chan, whose face softens, spotting the tears in his eyes. “Heyy, you can tell me, baby.”

Chan listens patiently as Changbin tells him about some guy he's been seeing before they started messing around among the group. He explains how they'd get intimate, but whenever they wanted to switch things up, he backed out last minute, blaming his weight. “I'm fine. I forgot about it, but…it's coming back a little now that I could have it,” he admits, and Chan cups his face, wiping away a tear for him.

“My beautiful Binnie,” he says so softly it tugs at Changbin’s heartstrings. “You're perfect, and that guy is some massive asshole,” he tells him, making him chuckle. “Please, I'm literally on my knees, please sit on my face and let me give you what you wanted.”

Changbin gently shoves his chest. “You're not the one supposed to be begging here.”

Chan giggles. “I will, just this once,” he winks at him and gets up, kissing his forehead sweetly. “If you still want it, I will make it happen. If not, it's okay.”

Changbin searches his eyes timidly and finds nothing but genuine interest and love in them. He swallows down his anxiety and nods weakly. “Please, Chan hyung,” he breathes out.

Chan cups his face and gives him a gentle but long kiss. “Do you trust me?” he asks calmly.

“Yes,” he nods, sinking deep into Chan's soft chocolate orbs. “I do.”

“Good,” he nods and soothingly rubs his thumbs across his cheekbones. “So if I tell you to move or sit down, you'll be a good boy and do as I say.”

Changbin swallows down his worries and feels a sense of trust and calmness taking over as he looks into his hyung’s eyes. Chan can see the change in his eyes, heart skipping a beat at how soft and vulnerable his friend looks. “I'll be a good boy.”

“That's right, my pretty boy,” Chan smiles satisfied.

“Yours?” he asks, growing shy at Chan's stunned look.

“Mine,” he nods sweetly and gives him another quick kiss, making the younger melt into it. “Now come on, before Ji gets back,” he whispers and winks at him mischievously. Chan grabs everything they need and quickly locks the door, getting comfortable on the sofa. He guides Changbin into his lap and pulls him into a kiss, trying to ease his nerves.

Changbin anxiously positions himself above Chan’s face, taking a deep breath as Chan’s hands find his thighs. At first, he shies away from his touch, suddenly insecure again, but Chan doesn’t let him. His tongue continues its delicious play from two weeks ago, and Changbin can’t think much anymore. He still tries to take some weight off, but he doesn't succeed for long because Chan notices and pulls him down, gaining a groan from both of them. The longer Chan goes on, the weaker he grows, and he ends up bent over, arms resting on the sofa, his face buried in them with weak sounds.

Chan moans deliciously beneath him, shuddering at the soft whines leaving Changbin’s lips. His hands knead his ass and thighs, eyes rolling back as Changbin starts fucking back onto his tongue.

He growls in protest as Changbin suddenly grows lighter on him again, taking some weight off him again. Changbin bites his lip, already missing how deep Chan got only seconds ago. But the strangled sounds coming from him worry him, and he feels like he can't do this to him any longer. He has to help a little.

Chan pats his thigh twice, signaling him to sit up. He blinks at him once he does and frowns. “What did I tell you?”

“To be a good boy,” he answers shyly.

“You enjoyed it, didn't you?” he asks gently, and Changbin nods, a heavy blush creeping up his neck and settling on his cheeks. “Why did you stop then?”

“Are you enjoying it?” he asks quietly.

“I fucking love it,” Chan says bluntly and squints at him. “Now sit down properly, baby; I won't ask again.”

“Y-yes, hyung,” he nods quickly and gets back into position.

The next time he tries to take some weight off, Chan's grip is firm, keeping him in place. Changbin whimpers in protest as his hips start stuttering, pace growing a little rough as he chases his high. But Chan doesn't budge, moaning filthily against him and guiding him through. Changbin’s stomach flips hard, and tears shoot to his eyes. Chan was not only able to carry his weight on top of him, he even enjoyed it.

Five days later

Changbin smirks to himself as Chan drives them back home. Today, everyone would be out for a movie and dinner after, which seemed like the perfect opportunity for them to take the next step without having to keep quiet or anything. Changbin had made up an excuse of feeling overwhelmed, and Chan had assured their friends he'd stay with him. So once they knew everyone would be gone, they stopped working and started their way home. Chan had been touchy all day, driving him mad, seemingly excited as well.

Once they're inside, Changbin strolls over to their kitchen island, inspecting the various cookies their friends made. He reaches forward to grab the note Minho wrote them and yelps, surprised when Chan suddenly wraps his arms around his waist, pressing his already hardening dick against his bum. “Chan hyung?” he asks, and Chan groans softly in response, burying his face in his back.

“I swear I could take you right here if I wouldn't know better,” he confesses, making Changbin’s mouth water. “You're so cute, you don't even know; it's driving me insane,” he tells him and runs his hands up his torso. “Couldn't stop thinking about it all day.”

Changbin blushes at his words and bites his lower lip, pressing back against him. His lips part in surprise at Chan's growl, and he feels like he's about to pass out when Chan starts grinding against his ass. “Really, Chan hyung?” he asks innocently, pressing back against him more. “You think I'm cute?”

Chan moans needily as he grinds against him. “So cute,” he tells him. “Made me so hard I had to take a long shower after dance practice.”

Changbin moans in response. “That's why you were gone so long?” he asks, and Chan starts fumbling with the waistband of his trousers.

“Sofa, now. I need some release right now,” Chan announces so casually it makes him dizzy. “Right now, I'm thinking with my dick; that's not good when I should take my time with you,” he admits honestly.

“Fuck, do whatever you want to me, hyung,” Changbin moans needily. “Use me, please.” He finds himself on the sofa within no time, with Chan straddling his lap.

Chan drags his hips across his lap and moans loudly at the needed friction. He braces himself on his chest, and Changbin’s hands find his thighs, fingers digging into his skin as Chan humps his lap forcefully. “You can move,” Chan pants, head falling back as he does. “Yeah, just like that, Binnie,” he praises him, and their moans mix beautifully. “Doing so good for your hyung,” he tells him, head dropping forward with a broken moan as Changbin rolls his hips up against him.

“Feels so good, hyung,” he moans out.

It doesn't take long, and Chan above him tenses up with a soft, relieved cry, shuddering as he cums in his pants. His eyebrows furrow with bliss, lips parting with silent moans, hips stuttering their way through his high. Changbin can't get enough of the sight of his hyung stumbling over the edge; he's a different type of pretty then. Also, it makes him all fuzzy, knowing he's the reason. Chan drops down onto the sofa next to him with a soft grunt and rubs his face, trying to catch his breath. “Okay,” he says after a moment. “That's better.”

“Your brain restarted?” Changbin teases softly, making him giggle.

“Mhm, until you're undressed and moaning that beautifully,” he tells him, and Changbin blushes furiously. Chan gets up and helps him off the sofa before lifting him up.

Changbin wraps his legs around his waist quickly and holds onto him with wide eyes. “Channie, hyung, let me down. I'm-” his words die in his throat at Chan's firm look.

“Do I look like this is exhausting me?” he asks patiently, stopping in his tracks.

“No,” he whispers.

“I wouldn't pick you up if I thought I couldn't handle that, Binnie,” he tells him, and Changbin’s eyes brim with tears. “Okay,” he whispers and walks back to the sofa, sitting down with him in his lap. “Come here,” he says softly and pulls him into a strong hug.

“I'm sorry,” he sniffles timidly, and Chan runs his hand through his hair.

He soothingly kisses his head and rubs his back. “You're okay,” he tells him. “Don't listen to that voice in your head, yeah?” he asks and earns a nod and silent hum. “Do you still have his number? I'd love to invite him and show him how it's done,” he says, smirking when Changbin starts laughing.

“You're so stupid.”

“I know,” he giggles, and they stay there until he's alright.

Chan then carries him upstairs, kissing his worries away, and kicks his door closed before lowering him onto his bed.

“You think Binnie will be okay?” Jisung asks thoughtfully. “I haven't noticed anything off all day,” he admits.

“Not really,” Seungmin shrugs, thinking back to the time they all spent together.

“Oh, I think he's just fine,” Felix assures them, and Jeongin squints at him.

“You're sure?” he asks suspiciously.

“Why?” Hyunjin asks.

“Why what?” Felix tries to stall time to come up with an answer.

“Why are you sure he's okay when he said he wasn't?” Jeongin clarifies.

“Because Chan hyung is fucking him stupid right now,” Minho says casually, sipping on his drink.

“Excuse me, what?” Hyunjin asks with wide eyes.

“Minho hyung, you can't just say shit like that,” Jisung rolls his eyes at him.

“You're all so blind if you didn't see that,” Minho rolls his eyes right back at them. “They've been growing closer for weeks now, and we all know Changbin was interested in submitting to Chan.”

Seungmin blinks at him as Minho keeps sipping on his drink. “On a scale from one to ten, how bored are you?”

“A solid eleven on some days, why?” he asks, tilting his head and pulling a face at him.

“How do you even notice that stuff?” Hyunjin asks flabbergasted.

“How do you not?” Felix asks tiredly, and Minho hums agreeingly.

“You guys are ridiculous,” he giggles happily.

“Okay, try to relax for me, yeah?” Chan asks gently, aligning himself with his hole. “I'll go slow and gentle; you tell me if it hurts.”

“Yes,” Changbin nods, growing impatient. Chan had eaten him out patiently and then fingered him open for what felt like hours. His dick is leaking onto his stomach, his hole clenching around nothing, and his body screaming for a release. He just wants to finally feel him inside, finally experience what Minho has described as “incredible sex” talking about Chan.

Chan starts pushing inside, groaning at how tight he still is, and closely watches his face. Once he's past the tip, Changbin tenses up beneath him, and Chan stops moving immediately. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, keep moving,” he nods quickly, heart sinking a little. Did Minho have a thing for pain? This doesn't feel exactly comfortable.

Chan eyes him suspiciously and pushes in a little more, watching Changbin’s eyes clouding with a pained expression. “I'm hurting you, right?”

“No, it's fine,” he shakes his head, sounding a little strained. “Just keep going, please.”

Chan shakes his head and pulls out again, grabbing the bottle of lube. “Binnie, we have all the time you need. I won't rush and hurt you in the process,” he tells him firmly and gently pushes in two fingers again.

Changbin whines softly and pushes back against them. “Please,” he whimpers, and Chan gently caresses his cheek with his other hand.

Chan stretches him out on his fingers, adding another two in the process, and kisses him, swallowing up his frustrated little sounds. Finally, he gets back into his prior position, trying again. This time, it goes easier, and Changbin beneath him gasps as he slowly pushes inside. “Better?” he grunts softly, reminding himself to go slow.

“Yes,” he nods eagerly, and this time he believes him. His jaw drops once Chan is buried inside him, and he can't help but squirm a little, feeling so full.

“Take your time,” Chan tells him, holding himself back. He gently rubs his thigh, watching him closely as he gets adjusted to the feeling.

“O-Okay,” he breathes out after a moment. “I think I'm ready.”

Chan nods and carefully pulls back before pushing back inside. Changbin sighs softly at the feeling of him massaging his walls as he works out a gentle rhythm. Chan lowers himself onto his arms, bracing himself next to his head, and smiles at him. He plants a few kisses down his jaw, and Changbin’s hand finds his back resting between his shoulder blades. “Don't be shy; let me hear you,” he tells him as he notices him trying to keep the noise down.

“I'm too loud,” he protests softly, biting back another moan as Chan picks up the pace a little.

“It's just us,” Chan reminds him and moans softly as Changbin clenches around him. “Wanna hear if I fuck you good, Binnie.”

“Fucks sake,” he groans at his bluntness, locking eyes with him. He swallows at how blown Chan’s pupils are, sheer need and passion clouding those usually so soft orbs. The next thrust pulls a beautiful, loud whine from him, and Chan buries his face in his shoulder with a soft groan at the sound.

“That’s more like it,” he moans, kissing his neck and thrusting deep. “Fuck, you’re still so tight,” he grunts, and Changbin squirms a little. “Such a good boy, taking me so well.”

“Chan hyung,” he moans softly, his whole body responding to his praise. “You feel so good,” he tells him breathlessly.

Chan’s hips slam forward into him as he clenches around him, shifting positions a little. Changbin’s head falls back with an obscenely loud moan, and Chan stops moving, eyes widening. “Shit, sorry,” he apologizes immediately, swallowing as Changbin blinks up at him with glistening eyes.

“Please, do that again,” he whispers needily.

“You want me to be rough?” he asks quietly, and Changbin nods, biting his lower lip hard at the hunger clouding Chan’s eyes.

He arches into him and looks up at him through his lashes. “Please, hyung.”

Chan pulls out and grabs him by the waist, flipping him onto his stomach effortlessly. Changbin moans out, stunned, getting incredibly turned on by Chan handling him with such ease. Chan pulls him onto his knees and pushes back inside, grip firm on his hips as he sets a rougher pace. Changbin arches his back, melting into the pillow and gripping the sheets with a loud whine. Chan makes sure he’s comfortable with this and keeps a close eye on him before covering his hands with his own, intertwining their fingers. He plants soft kisses on his back, leaning down to his ear. “Such a good boy, Binnie. Doing so well, baby,” he praises him with little grunts as he pounds into him.

Changbin can’t do much but whine his name, shivering as he hits his prostate. “Chan~.” He collapses into the mattress with Chan lowering himself on top of him, covering him with his body as their skin meets with forceful slaps. “Right, there, please,” he cries out as Chan repeatedly hits his sweet spot, moaning sinfully above him. The bedframe hits the wall in sync with Chan’s forceful thrusts, growing sloppier the closer he gets. “Chan,” he moans repeatedly, arching back into him. “So close.”

“Wanna cum?” he presses out, not that far away from his sweet release himself.

“Please, hyungie,” he whines.

“Make a mess, pretty boy,” Chan tells him and buries his face in his back. “Cum for me, yeah? Be a good boy, baby.”

Changbin doesn’t need another invitation and covers the sheets beneath him as he cums with a loud cry, whimpering as Chan fucks him through it, chasing his own release.

“Inside?” Chan asks, hips stuttering.

“Yes,” he groans, getting a little overstimulated by now. His jaw grows slack at the sensation of Chan reaching his high, painting his walls with thick ropes of cum before collapsing on top of him. For a minute, they stay silent, both calming down a little before Chan moves on top of him, kissing his shoulder gently.

“And that wasn’t too rough?” he checks in and Changbin weakly shakes his head.

“That was amazing, you’re amazing,” he tells him, making him giggle. “Don’t laugh, I mean it,” he pouts, blushing a little as Chan kisses his cheek.

“You’re so cute,” he grins, and Changbin huffs.

“Will you stop calling me cute?” he laughs, and Chan squeezes him gently.

“Never,” he smirks before pushing himself up with a soft grunt. “Alright, let’s get cleaned up before the others return back home.”

Changbin smiles to himself and hums agreeingly. Minho had been right; Chan is incredible.

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)

@atinyniki @mal-lunar-28 @lilmisssona @aaasia111 @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @malfoygalaxies @michelle4eve @lixie-phoria @gxtwllsn @xxstrayland @kibs-and-bits @5starluvr (@turtledove824 @lost-in-avoidance) @candycrunchstay

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lowkeychenle · 5 months

Text

Guilty As Sin? [ZCL] (M) Fic Teaser

Description: Chenle is everything you want--everything you need. Somehow, the thought of him manages to pull you back in even after you were free. Messy kisses, late night trysts, and him tracing the word 'mine' on your thigh--barely anything, so how could you possibly be guilty as sin? (based on Guilty As Sin? by Taylor Swift)

Genre: Smut/Fluff/Angst

Content Warnings: Smutty smutness, use of the word 'slut' in a couple different instances, uhhh self...help lol, explicit, rough, unprotected sex, and I think that's it for now *MDNI*

Expected Word Count: 5-8k (this is so subject to change lol)

Release Date: 8pm EST 2024.5.10

Taglist: Open!! Please let me know if you want to be tagged when this comes out <3

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x fem!Reader (features roommate!Renjun, Mark, Jaemin, aespa Karina!)

Juliet's Masterlist | Tell me what you think? :)

Lips brush against your neck and trail up to your ear, and you feel his smile before you hear his chuckle. His hand grips your thigh, but as he pulls back, his eyes travel along your face. His irises have gone dark, and he gulps. The room is far hotter than it should be, and as you sit next to Chenle on your couch, his fingertip traces a single word on your skin, over and over again.

MINE

“(Y/N), are you listening?” Chenle’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and hopefully nobody notices how your stare was stuck on the way he taps his fingers on his jeans. Your face heats up, but you try your best to hide it.

“What? Sorry, tired today.” You sit back in your chair, glancing around the room to see your roommate, Renjun, and several of your other friends sitting on the various seats around your living area.

“You don’t look tired.” Karina raises her eyebrow at you.

You glare back at her. “How do you want me to fix that?”

“Chenle was asking us if we wanted to go to a party next week,” Jisung adds. “A friend of his we don’t know is turning twenty-three.”

“Uh, sure. I’ll be right back.” You launch up, heading for the kitchen. Before you turn fully, you make eye contact with Chenle. He leans back on the couch cushion, legs crossed, and head tilted. He’s dressed so simply, sweatpants and a dark, loose-fit T-shirt, but you could ignore those things for your own sanity.

What you can’t ignore?

The quirk of his eyebrow. Did you just imagine the way he looked you up and down? Every inch of your skin feels hot, and you think of those fucking fingers on your thigh all over again.

Before you embarrass yourself any further, you quickly move towards the kitchen, throwing the door of the refrigerator open to grab a water bottle. You set it on the counter after inhaling half of it, and then brace your palms on the edge, too. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath. You’re not sure why you can’t stop fucking thinking about it.

His hips slam into yours while his hand covers your mouth to keep you quiet. Your eyes roll back in pleasure. No matter what, you’re lost in the feeling of him inside you, the sweet stretch and how his jaw is clenched hard to keep his own noises at bay. You want to feel him everywhere, to truly lose yourself in the moment.

You wrap your legs around his waist to get him closer, and he curses a little louder than he should—

#nct dream #chenle #nct #nct dream smut #nct imagines #nct smut #chenle smut #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct angst #chenle fluff #chenle scenarios #chenle x reader #nct x reader #nct dream x reader

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misc-obeyme · 1 year

Text

So uh... I couldn't stop thinking about this post because apparently many of us would like to be scolded by Barbatos. But a special thank you to @vinsmouke for adding a tag about him taking off his gloves slowly because my Barbatos obsession took hold of my silly little brain and refused to let go.

I don't know what this even is, I'm sorry, it seems I'm just very thirsty today and there is something about this scenario that inspired this. Listen, I don't question inspiration, I just let it take me where it will.

Barbatos x GN!MC - NSFW MDNI

Note: MC's genitals are not described, I tried to keep it gender neutral. I consider this to be an established relationship situation where consent has already been given.

Warnings: fingering, MC's wrists are restrained, Barbatos in demon form, I feel like there probably needs to be more here please let me know if I should add something

You sat on your chair and tried not to squirm. Barbatos was standing before you, a deceptive smile on his face. You knew what that smile meant. You had bratted too close to the sun.

You had been enjoying some tea and pastries at the Demon Lord's Castle one minute and found yourself in this tense situation the next. You couldn't deny that it was your own fault.

“Do you believe your behavior is appropriate, MC?” Barbatos asked, smile still in place.

"I-" you started to protest but he interrupted you.

“Please do not attempt to excuse it,” he said. You sat back in your chair, watching as he began to slowly pull his fingers out of his glove, one by one. “We have spoken about your bad behavior before. I decided on leniency then, but it is clear to me that I made an error in judgment. If you cannot conduct yourself properly…”

You swallowed as you watched him. He wasn’t looking at you, his attention fully on the methodical and deliberate way he was removing his gloves. You couldn’t look away, your hands fidgeting in your lap as you considered what may be coming next.

“…it is my responsibility to correct you,” Barbatos said, his eyes finally meeting yours as he placed his gloves on the table.

He was still smiling but the look in his eyes made you wiggle slightly in your seat. He circled around to stand behind you, letting the anticipation build up for several long moments while you waited.

And then you felt his fingers against your lips and you opened your mouth obediently. He didn’t need to tell you what to do - you closed your mouth around them and sucked.

His other hand loosened the waistband of your RAD uniform before sliding past it, his fingertips teasing along the heat between your legs. You sighed around the fingers in your mouth as he coated the tips of the other fingers in your slick.

Barbatos tutted gently in your ear. “Aroused so easily by being scolded? I may begin to think you get into trouble on purpose.”

It was a good thing you couldn’t talk, since you were sure he would see right through any lie you tried to tell about how you would never do such a thing.

You had been trying to stay still, keeping your hands beside you. But as Barbatos’s fingers began to stimulate you, you found it more and more difficult. You reached out to grasp both of his wrists desperately, moaning at the feeling of his touch.

It wasn’t long before your hands were pulled away from him, your grip broken as they were tugged behind the back of your chair. You could tell from the cool sensation now around your wrists that they were being held back by his tail.

You knew Barbatos was in demon form behind you, restraining you while he edged you, his fingers in your mouth. It caused a thrill to spike through your body, even though you couldn't see him.

It was an effort not to bite down on him and he knew it, pushing you as far as he could, waiting to see if you would lose control. His fingers moved expertly between your legs, teasing you before increasing the sensation, bringing you so close to your climax and then retreating again, but never fully letting up.

The longer this went on, the more you started to squirm until you were writhing on your chair. You strained against the tail that held your wrists, gasping against the fingers in your mouth.

Barbatos took his fingers out of your mouth abruptly and you couldn’t stop yourself from begging.

“Barbatos, please…!” you cried, body arching back against the chair.

Barbatos’s other hand went still beneath your clothes. “MC. Must I remind you this is a punishment?”

You let your head fall back on top of the chair and suddenly you could see his face. The teasing gleam in his eyes, the black of his horns nestled among the green of his hair, the longer bright teal edges tickling your cheek as he leaned forward just a little.

"Please…" you said again, knowing you were flushed with heat, that your desperation was plain on your face.

Barbatos was smiling still, but it was an amused smile rather than a dangerous one. "Your begging is sweet, my love, but it will do you no favors now. Be good and I will reward you later."

You whined as he pulled away from you. His tail released your wrists as he shifted out of demon form. You watched as he used a napkin to clean himself of you before putting his gloves back on.

Although you found yourself feeling slightly frustrated, you also knew that Barbatos was always true to his word. You could tell just from looking at his face that he fully intended to reward you later. The promise of it was enough to give you the strength to wait just a little longer.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me smut #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #obey me nb #obey me barbatos #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me barbatos x mc #obey me barbatos smut #barbatos x reader #barbatos x mc #barbatos smut #misc naughty times #misc writes

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ever-siince-new-york · 1 year

Note

julien baker calling reader a good girl and being in charge🙏🏻

Julien Baker x f!reader

warnings/tags: fingering, oral (reader!recieving), pet names such as... princess, baby, honey, and good girl ofc 🙄 a lil bit of toxicity and lets say stylistic errors in grammar and perspective 🙏(aka grammarly stop being mad at me i'm not gonna buy premium)

author's note: girl you know i had to. 1.2k words, should take around 15 mins to read. thank y'all so much for the requests! i promise i've seen them all, however i have also gotten back into minecraft after they added the cherry wood so... I'm working on it okay? okay. hope u like it okay bye :0

You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this, not again. But, here you were, scrolling to unblock her contact. You thought there was something about this city: the air or something cliche like that. Something that had you calling Julien again and again. Surely, if it were up to you and your own free will, you wouldn’t be doing this.

The ringing from the other line drowns out any rational thought from this point on.

Ring. You shouldn’t be doing this. Ring. You’ll just get hurt again. Ring. “Hello?”

There was a point where you really believed you would never hear her voice again, never even want to. “Hey,” you said.

“So uh… wh-?” you cut her off.

“Come over,” the last of a six-word phone call.

You wanted to slam the door shut as quickly as you’d ripped it open. She was still wearing that stupid necklace. The one you had bought for her at a gas station in… Arizona maybe? Somewhere dry, hot. As you weren’t expecting this cruel reminder of the past, you were thrown off-guard. Clenching your jaw, you didn’t know what to say. Luckily, you didn’t have to.

The way she kissed you that night had you drunk on her from the moment she stepped into your apartment. All your attempts at memorizing her touch, her taste, her smell were in vain. Julien always had a way of making life feel straight out of a movie. It was all teeth and tongue, your mouth surrendering to hers as soon as she tongued at your bottom lip. No memory could ever do her justice.

Her hands danced over the expanse of your body, hands moving from your ribs to your hips, your neck to your breast. Fingertips shaping your body into submission like wet clay.

You broke the kiss, leading her to your bedroom.

“That’s not very polite, Princess. Not even going to offer me a drink?” Her feigned offense only turned you on more, ever the tease. As if she could read your mind, a smirk tugged at her beautiful lips, “I know, baby. Always so needy for me,” she spoke in a low drawl.

Any sense of control you had was now gone. You were her’s. Again. So you’d nodded with a soft pout.

“We can fix that, honey. But you need to use your words,” Julien said. This woman would be the death of you. “Please, Jay. I need it,” you whispered.

“Need what, baby?”

“Need you,” you pouted. That seemed to satisfy her as she held out her hand for you to grab with a smile. The two of you stumbled down the hallway, towards the open door to your bedroom.

She pushed you up against the foot of your bed, reaching down to slip her hands under the hem of your t-shirt, abandoning the article to the floorboards. Her gentle kisses up and down your neck did nothing but add fuel to the burning desire between your hips. Hands danced around your waist while yours were planted into her hair.

You tugged at her roots in the hope of her diverting her attention to where you had craved her since she flew into town. She pulled her head away to look up at you with expectant eyes.

“What do you say, Princess?”

“Please.” That made her smirk. “Good girl,” she had said. Pressing a kiss to your soft lips, she trailed her way down to the fly of your jeans. Kneeling, she popped open the button and unzipped the fly in mere seconds, clearly as eager as you.

She slid her hand into your cotton panties, collecting your slick before beginning to circle your clit. Very quickly you migrated from standing to sitting as she continued her ministrations. As you arched your back into her touch, she slipped two of her fingers into your entrance.

She pressed a sloppy kiss on your inner thigh before putting her mouth on your heat. She curled her fingers and started gently suckling on your clit. Her consistent motions had your mouth open and your tongue gently curled up as you laced your fingers back into her hair. The tug you had delivered to her hair every time she changed what she was doing had her moaning into your pussy, sending reverberations through your wet cunt.

Anyone outside your open window would be able to hear what was going on inside those four walls. The sounds of her fingers plunging in and out of you coupled with the wet kisses she was littering among your core were downright sinful.

Feeling your walls fluttering around her fingers, she knew you were close. You grunted in offense and frustration when she pulled her mouth away from you, but she quickly mended any hurt feelings with her words.

“I missed having you like this, baby. All needy just for me.” It seemed like her pace began quickening after every phrase, her hunger increasing parallel to yours. The ferocity of her thrusting fingers and her thumb now rubbing at your clit had you stumbling closer to your climax.

“You can do it, Princess. Go ‘head and cum for me, baby.”

You tugged harder and harder on her strands with every pulse of your orgasm, the increasing sting on her scalp had her moaning right along with you. The way you were squeezing and oozing on her fingers as you came down had Julien weak. She pulled her fingers out of you and into your mouth.

“Suck.”

Immediately you obliged, your head too foggy to imagine disobeying. Maybe tasting yourself on her fingers was dirty, but it had happened so many times that it almost felt romantic. To the two of you, experiencing the sensual evidence of your euphoria was just as pure and intimate as a kiss.

You laid alone atop your sheets for a moment until she returned to you. She had removed most of her own clothes, leaving herself in a pair of boxers and a white t-shirt. She brought the wipes she had grabbed from your bathroom up to your pussy, navigating your folds simply with her memory. A soft furrow settled itself between her brows, displaying her focused state as she cleaned you up.

Once she was satisfied, she crawled up next to you on the bed. Pulling your head to lay on her chest. You looked up at her with wide eyes as she stroked your hair.

“Honestly, I never thought this would happen again,” her hushed voice tugged at your heart. “I know,” you said. “I’m glad that it did,” her inflection made the words sound like a question, but you didn’t answer, preferring the quiet to any unsure, over-thought reply you could give. She sighed gently and gave a soft peck to your forehead, tucking your hair behind your ear. Smiles rested on both of your faces, yours spreading to hers.

It was funny how little you cared in the moment you knew you would come to regret. If you could bottle the pure ecstasy Julien had coaxed out of you, surely you would have good reason not to.

For better or for worse, no one else could ever possibly make you feel the way she did, and for right then, that was enough.

#also thank u 4 fifty notes 🙏#requests ARE still open it'll just take a minute #pls be specific in requests! it helps with inspo 4 sure #carlena's writings (after dark)#carlena's writings #julien baker smut #boygenius smut #boygenius #julien baker #wlw smut #julien baker x reader #julien baker fanfic

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dianawinchester03 · 4 months

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Season 2, Episode 3 - Blood Lust

Series Masterlist

Y/N's POV

The boys and I were driving down an empty road, the middle of the day in Deans newly refurbished car. Back in Black by AC/DC was blasting through her deck. Baby was fixed up to a mint, Quinn took some work but she's locked and loaded, ready to be ridden. But I decided to just tag along with the boys until I'm ready to ride my girl again, she needed a rest after what happened to her so I left her at Bobby's.

"Woo! Listen to her purr. You ever heard anything so sweet?" Dean exclaims excitedly, a large smile across his face. Me and Sam share an amused look in the rearview mirror. Chuckling, I lean forward between the boys from the backseat, "You know, if you two wanna get a room, just let me and Sam know" I quip jokingly. "Seriously, Dean. It's weird" Sam chuckles.

"Awww, don't listen to her, baby. She's just jealous" Dean caresses his steering wheel, flashing me a sly wink. I scoff along with Sam, as we all share a laugh. My heart warms to see Dean so happy for once. "You're in a good mood" Sam points out a bit surprised. "Why shouldn't I be?" Dean asks curiously. Me and Sam shrug, "No reason" We say in unison.

"I got my car. We got a case. Things are looking up" Dean smirks widely, his tone filled with excitement. "Wow. Give you a couple severed heads and a pile of dead cows and you're Mr. Sunshine" I shoot jokingly. Dean laughs along with Sam at my statement, "How far to Red Lodge?" Dean asks. "Uh, about another 300 miles" Sam answers.

"Good" Dean smirks, his foot went heavier on the gas. Speeding up down the empty stretch. Me and Sam held on for dear life as he flies down the road.

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Red Lodge, Montana

Sam, Dean and I were now in Montana, posing as reporters to the police sheriff in order to collect data on the case. They were dressed in suits and ties while I was dressed in a baby blue floral blouse and a black above-the-knee pencil skirt. We sat in his office, across from him as we questioned. "The murder investigation is ongoing. That's all I can share with the press." The sheriff says to us.

"Sure, sure. We understand that. But just for the record. You found the first, uh, head last week correct?" Sam asks professionally, pretending to take notes on a pad. "Uh-huh" the sheriff responds. "Okay, and the other, a Christina Flanagan" Sam goes to ask but the sheriff cuts him off. "That was two days ago, is there any-" The sheriff is interrupted by a knocking at the door.

"Excuse me, sheriff" A young blonde woman knocks at his door, tapping the watch in her wrist. Indicating times up, "Alright." He nods at her. "Sorry, gentleman and lady. Times up. We're done here" The sheriff dismisses, ready to get up. "Wait, one last question" I try to stop him. "What about the cattle?" Dean quickly asks.

"Excuse me?" The sheriff cocks his eyebrow. "You know, the cows found dead...split open, drained, over a dozen cases" Dean further says, giving the sheriff and knowing look. "What about them?" The sheriff scoffs. "So you don't think there's a connection?" I add. He turns to me confused, "Connection with...?" He trails off. "First, cattle mutilations...now uh. Now two murders. Kind of sounds like ritual stuff" I say superstitiously.

"You know, like satanic cult ritual stuff" Dean adds, shrugging a bit. The sheriff looks between all of us before bursting out laughing and pointing at us. We all roll our eyes at this, "You..." The sheriff laughs, it descends when he sees the serious looks on our faces. "You're not kidding" He says dryly. "No" Sam responds, shaking his head.

"Those cows aren't being mutilated. You wanna know how I know?" The sheriff asks firmly, clasping his hands infront of him. "How?" Dean asks. "Because there's no such thing as cattle mutilations. Cow drops, leave it in the sun...within 48 hours the bloat will split it open so clean it's just about surgical" The sheriff explains with a sarcastic smile.

"The bodily fluids fall down into the ground, gets soaked up because that's what gravity does" He talks to us as if we were 5 year olds. "But, hey, it could be Satan" He says sarcastically. "What newspaper did you say you work for?" He asks us suspiciously. Dean clears his throat awkwardly, "World Weekly News" Dean answers unsure. "Weekly World News" I correct.

"World-" Dean stutters. "Weekly World" Sam corrects. "World- I'm new" Dean chuckles nervously. The sheriff narrows his eyes at us, "Get out of my office" He says firmly.

________________________________

Later that day, the boys and I headed over to the Candler County Hospital Morgue. We threw over some lab coats we found in a supply closet to blend in. I swung the door open to the morgue, a young man sat at a desk looked up at me. I flashed him a coy smile before looking down at his ID badge to see 'J.Manner' with his picture.

"John" I guessed his name. "Jeff" He corrected with a wide smile, getting up from his desk. "Jeff. I knew that" I chuckle flirtatiously. From the corner of my eye I see Dean cocked his eyebrow before rolling his eyes. "Dr. Dworkin needs to see you in his office right away" I say urgently, to Jeff to get him out. "But Dr. Dworkin's on vacation" Jeff says. I come up with the first lie I could think of and say,

"Well he's back and he's pissed. And he's screaming for you, man. So if I were you I would.." I say quickly, letting out a low whistle so he could skedaddle. Jeff did exactly that, a look of horror on his face. "Nice job, Princess" Dean snorts, giving me a wink. I scoff chuckling, "Thanks, charming" I chuckle as Sam closes the door behind him.

"Hey, those Satanists in Florida, they marked their victims, didn't they?" Dean asks us, getting straight into work mode. "Yeah. Reverse pentacle on the forehead" Sam answers. "Huh, gross" I mutter cringing as Dean hands me a pair of latex gloves, along with Sam. "So much fucked up crap happens in Florida" Dean agrees as we snap on our gloves.

Sam opens the door to one of the body deal storage refrigerators, pulling out the tray with one of the victims body. The corpse was headless as expected and there was a large plastic container was at its feet, presumably it's head. "Alright, open it" Dean says to Sam. "No. You open it" Sam quips back defensively. I roll my eyes at this, "Jesus, you wussies. I'll open it" I groan, taking the container off the tray and resting it over on the table.

I could feel their glares at the back of my head, but I ignore it. "We're not wussies" Dean scoffs offended. "Whatever" I mutter. They come up besides me as I I take the lid off the reveal the mutilated head of a young girl, Dean flinches back in disgust as Sam grimaces. My heart gave out for her. "Well, no pentagram" Dean mutters. "Wow. Poor girl" Sam sighs heavily, I nod in agreement.

"Maybe we should, you know, uh, look in her mouth. See if those wackos stuffed anything down her throat." Dean suggests. "You know, kind of like the moth in Silence of the Lambs?" Dean pats me on the small of my back. I chuckle at his movie reference as Sam nods, "Yeah, yeah, go ahead" Sam agrees, pushing the container closer to Dean. He turns the container back to Sam, "No you go ahead".

Sam looks at him confused, "What?" Sam scoffs. "Put the lotion in the basket" Dean smiles smugly. I roll my eyes at them, "Oh for Christ's sake. And you have the gall to say you're not wussies" I huff, earning a snicker from Sam as Deans smile drops. I turn the container to me, taking a deep breath before clearing my throat.

Using my gloved fingers, I pry her cold mouth open. A chill running up my hands as I do so, my stomach began to churn as I stuck my fingers in her mouth searching. "Fellas, get me a bucket" I ask them quickly. Dean immediately gets the bucket near the mops and broom. "Find something?" Sam asks hopefully. "No, I'm gonna puke" I groan, gagging in disgust.

Sam gives me an unimpressed look, "Right, and we're the wussies" Dean snorts, resting the bucket next to me, a triumphant smirk on his face. "Would you like to stick your fingers in the dead girls mouth? No, I didn't think so!" I snap at him, his smirk dropped as I dug around in her mouth. I shook my head, taking my fingers out as they peered beside to me to take a look.

"Wait, lift her lip up again" Dean tells me. "What?" I scoff. "You want me to throw up" I groan, "No, no, no. I think I saw something" Dean defends, lifting her top lip up. "Yeah, I think I saw it too" Sam leans closer. My eyebrows shoot up to reveal what seemed like a hole in her gums. "What is that, a hole?" Dean questions, Sam then puts his finger behind it, pressing it slightly.

That's when a tooth came retracting and my stomach dropped. Vampire. "It's a tooth" Sam says. "Fellas, that's a fang" I point out, my mouth agape as Sam gasps. "A retractable set of vampire fangs. You gotta be kidding me" Dean groans, letting go of her mouth. "Well, this changes things" Sam mutters. "Ya think?" I quip sarcastically. The boys gave me a sympathetic look at my tone.

________________________________

The boys and I pulled up to a nearby bar later that night, we assumed it to be the vampires hang out spot in the area since it's near where the girl was killed. We all have each other a look before exiting Baby and heading towards the bar. Dean opened the door, gesturing for me to go in first all gentlemanly like. I flash him a sly wink before walking in, I'm pretty sure I felt his eyes on my ass so I added an extra sway to my hips.

Sam walked behind me into the crowed dark bar as Dean closed the door. We scoped our surroundings carefully, "How's it going?" Dean greets the bartender as we approach the bar, "Living the dream. What can I get for ya?" The bartender dryly responds. "Three beers please" Dean says, the three of us taking seats at the bar. Sam and Dean besides me, "So we're looking for some people."

Sam says to then bartender. "Sure. It's hard to be lonely" The bartender deadpans. Sam chuckles lightly along with me and Dean. "Yeah, that's not what he meant" I say in a coy tone, taking out a $50 bill I had stuffed in my bra. His eyebrows shoot up, along with Sam and Dean at my move as I slide it across to the bartender, he glances down at it intrigued before taking it up.

Sam clears his throat, "Great, so these people, they would've moved here about six months ago. Probably pretty rowdy, like to drink" Sam explains. "Yeah, real night owls, you know? Sleep all day, party all night" Dean adds, sipping his beer. I felt a weird sensation on my back, almost creepy. Almost as if someone was staring at me. I turnt my head to see an African-American man who was smoking a cigarette, his eyes trained straight at me and the boys.

"Barker Farm got leased out a couple months ago. Real winners. They've been in here a lot. Drinkers. Noisy. I've had to eighty-six them once or twice" The bartender says. The man breaks his gaze with me when he realized I noticed him, I got a strange vibe from him but I ignored it. Probably just some creep. The boys and I share a look before turning back to him, "Thanks" I say kindly before we all finish our beers.

We rest out empty beer bottles down at the bar and begin to head out. I made sure to look back in the seat where the man who I caught staring at us was, now empty. Gone. His mug still half full, the half finished cigarette crushed in the ashtray. "Wait, fellas" I stop Sam from opening the door. "What's wrong, y/n/n?" Sam asks me concerned.

"There was a guy in the corner, over there. He was staring right at us when we questioned the bartender" I whisper to them in a low tone, nodding my head towards the table. Their eyes flicker to it and then back to me, "You think he's still outside?" Dean whispers back. "I don't know, let's walk down the alley and see if he follows us" I suggest. They both share a look before nodding.

Sam opened the door as me and Dean walked besides him. I still felt as though someone was watching so I scanned my surroundings to make sure but no one was there. They both gave me a look that said, 'Ready?'. I nodded in response as we made our way down the alley, my father's machete tucked up my sleeve of my leather jacket.

The boys walked besides me as usual, me in the middle as we strolled down, we heard footsteps padding towards us as we bent the corner around the bar. We all quickly hide away in a dark corner, where he was sure not to see us. The footsteps stopped, so the boys and I took that as a go. Jumping the man in a sneak attack.

Sam and Dean both grabbed him by his shirt and slammed him against the wall, "Smile" I grit my teeth at him, pressing my fathers machete to his neck. "Show us those pearly whites" Dean growls at him, slamming him harder against the wall Sam's help. "Oh, for the love of-" The man groans. "You wanna stick that thing someplace else? I'm not a vampire" The man tries to defend himself. We all still glare at him, not convinced.

"Yeah, that's right. I heard you guys in there" The man says smugly. "What do you know about vampires?" Sam growls. "How to kill them. Now seriously, sweetheart. That knifes making me itch" The man widens his eyes at me, I cock my eyebrows at him and tilt my head a bit. I give Sam a look and he slams the man harder into the wall, "Hey! Woah, easy there, Chachi" The man snarks at Sam before raising his hand up.

He lifts his upper lip to show us his gums. It didn't have a hole like the girls one in the morgue. "See? Fangless. Happy?" He grumbles. The boys and I share a look before slowly retracting. They let him go as I slowly draw my blade always from him. "Now, who the hell are you?" The man asks us.

We were now by Gordon's, the man who we almost decapitated, car. "Sam and Dean Winchester. And Y/N L/N." Gordon says excitedly, pulling out a side cabinet from his backseat with a load of blades. Sickles, machetes. You name it. "I can't believe it. I know I met your fathers once? Great guys, even greater hunters" Gordon says with a wide smile. "I heard they passed....I'm sorry" Gordon says apologetically.

"Not to pry. But is it true that a vampire killed F/N?" Gordon asks me. My eyes snap up to him, I just nod in response. "I'm sorry" He says genuinely. I just shrug at it. "That's big shoes. But from what I hear, you guys fill them. Great trackers. Good in a tight spot" Gordon says. I roll my eyes at his fake flattery.

We all give him a suspicious look. "You seem to know a lot about our families" I say in a dry tone. "Well word travels fast. You know how hunters talk" Gordon says causally. The boys and I share a look at this. "No, we don't actually" Dean says. "I guess there's a lot you dads never told you kids, huh?" Gordon says. "So, um. So those two vampires, they were yours, huh?" Sam asks.

"Yep. Been here two weeks" Gordon responds nodding. "You check out that Barker farm?" Dean asks. "Just a bunch of hippie freaks. Though they could kill you with that patchouli smell on them" Gordon chuckles. "Where's the nest, then?" I ask. Gordon chuckles again, scoffing a bit before retracting the cabinet back into his car.

"I've got this one covered." He says, I roll my eyes at this. "Look, don't get me wrong, it's a real pleasure meeting you guys. But I've been on this thing for over a year" He tells us. "I killed a gang back in Austin, tracked the nest all the way over here. I'll finish it" He assures us firmly. "We could help" Dean offers. "Thanks. But I'm kind of a go-it-alone type of guy" Gordon narrows his eyes at us.

"Come on, man. I've been itching for a hunt" Dean tries to reason. "And I would love to hand it to those bloodsucking killers" I add pervasively. I notice Sam give us a side look at this. Gordon shakes his head, "Sorry. But, hey. I hear there's a chupacabra two states over. Go ahead and knock yourselves out" Gordon offers before getting into his car.

He locks the door before telling us, "It was real good meeting you, though." He smiles at us. "I'll buy you a drink on the flip side" He smirks, flashing me a wink. I cringe in disgust at this, not interested whatsoever. He then starts his ignition before driving off. The boys and I share a look at this.

________________________________

We decided to trail Gordon's car, eventually ending up at an old mill. We watched as he got out and entered. We waited a couple minutes before the roaring sound of an electric saw filled our ears. We all bolt into action and jumped out of Baby, running towards the sound in a hurry. We're met with the sight of Gordon being held under the saw by his neck on a ledge by a man wearing a mechanic outfit.

Sam hurried up the ledge and pulled Gordon out of the way, the man turns and flashes his fangs at me and Dean. Dean grabs an old spear and swings at the man, headfirst. I drew my feet back in a swift motion and kneed the vampire in his stomach, sending him stumbling back into Gordon's previous position under the saw.

Dean raised the spear over his head before driving it through the vampires gut, earning an animalistic painful roar from him. My eyes flickered to the saw and a nasty idea came across my mind. Vengeance, hatred, grief swirled around my noggin. Without thinking, I grabbed the saw and pulled it down onto the vampires neck.

Decapitating him in a slow painful manner. His blood splattered across my grim face, while glaring at him, I clenched my jaw as the vampire roared again in anguish. His head was finally off clean and went tumbling back. I got this sick feeling in my stomach after killing him, it wasn't nausea, that's for sure. I thought I would've enjoyed it more.

I turnt to the men to see Sam with a look of disbelief on his face, a proud almost lustful smirk plastered on Dean's lips and a impress look on Gordon's, his mouth agape. "So I guess I gotta buy you that drink now" Gordon says impressed. I don't answer, my bloodied face stoic.

________________________________

We're all now back at the barber we're at earlier. Dean and Gordon were hankering down a pitcher of beer, celebrating. My cigarette tucked between my lips as me and Sam sat upright in our seats, our eyes narrowed in Gordon's direction. My stomach was still churning from killing that vampire. It didn't feel as good killing that vamp as much as I expected. I relished in killing Kate, the bitch who took my father too soon from me.

But this time didn't feel as good. Gordon didn't rub me the right way at all. Now I know what you're saying. 'You barely know the guy, Y/N. Give him a break.' But something about this guy is already getting on my nerves. Blame it on my ESP thing or whatever you want, something isn't right with him.

A waitress approaches our table and rests down four shots. "Here you go" She says kindly, Dean goes to dig in his pocket to pay for them but Gordon stops him. "No, no. I got it" He says, handing the waitress the money. "Come on" Dean cuts in. "I insist" Gordon says firmly, shaking his head. "Thank you, sweetie" He smiles at the waitress. "You're welcome" The waitress responds sweetly before walking off.

Gordon picks up his shot along with Dean, "Another one bites the dust" He smirks. "That's right" Dean smirks back before toasting, both downing the shots. "Y/N" Gordon says before chuckling. "You have that big-ass fang one hell of a haircut, sweetie" Gordon smiles at me. I narrow my eyes further at him, simply nodding, crushing my burnt out bud in the ashtray in-front of us.

"Yeah, atta girl princess. You did good" Dean congratulates me, flashing me a wink. Normally I'd swoon at this but I wasn't in the mood at this time, it still made my heart flutter, his praising rising a heat in me. "Thanks" I responded softly. "That was beautiful, absolutely beautiful" Gordon continues to compliment. Both me and Sam scoff, rolling our eyes.

"You two alright? What's the matter, Sammy?" Dean asks us concerned, realizing we're on edge as he takes a sip of his beer. I make eye contact with Dean, trying to tell him with my eyes, 'I don't trust this guy'. But he doesn't pick up on it. "Yeah, we're fine" Sam answers for the both of us in a deadpan tone. "Well, lighten up a little, Sammy" Gordon tries to cheer him up.

My eyes widened slightly when Gordon called him Sammy. "They're the only ones that get to call me that" Sam retorts in a dry tone. Gordon's face drops, I notice Dean smirked proudly, "Okay. No offense meant. Just celebrating a little." Gordon says awkwardly. I'm not gonna lie, I had to hold back a laugh at this. I felt special because normally whenever we call him Sammy, he always groans 'It's Sam' or rolls his eyes unimpressed.

"A job well done by Princess Y/N over here" Gordon smirks at me, flashing me a sly wink. My nostrils flare, my eyes twitching at this. I couldn't help but notice Deans grip tightened around his beer mug. "Don't you dare call me that" I growl at him. "Woah, woah" Gordon puts his hands up in surrender chuckling, Deans eyes snap over to him in fury.

His eyes flickered between me and Dean before his mouth formed the shape of an 'O'. "Sorry, man" Gordon chuckles, patting Dean on his knee. "Didn't mean to disrespect you or your girl" He grins widely. Deans anger seemed to diminish, his eyebrow cocked. Normally, I'd feel pleasant or have butterflies in my stomach when someone mistakes me for Deans girlfriend.

But coming from this jackass, my eye twitched. My fists clenched in my lap, the table began to shake slightly. Causing Gordon to look confused and stunned. "What the fuck?" Gordon muttered, trying to not make all the beers fall over. Sam and Deans eyes snapped over to me in fear when this began to happen. "Hey, hey" Dean whispers to me, resting a hand on my thigh.

"Relax" He says calmly, caressing my thigh gently, a pleading look in his eyes. My stomach fluttered, my eyes snapping back over to Deans. My heart rate quickened, my anger slightly diminishing. The table then settled, the shaking stopping in an instant. "How the hell did you do that?" Gordon gasps, his eyes wide. Dean chuckles nervously. "I don't know what you're talking about" I shrug innocently, narrowing my eyes at him.

Gordon cocked his eyebrow at me, unconvinced. The whole time this was happening, Sam looked like he was holding back the biggest laugh. A wide smirk on his face. "Look, I'm not gonna bring you guys down. I'm just gonna go back to the motel, you coming Sammy?" I turn to Sam. "Yeah, let's go" Sam says, getting up from the chair along with me.

Dean sighs disappointed, "You guys sure?" He asks, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Yeah" I respond simply, following behind Sam. "Sammy, y/n/n." Dean calls out to us. We turn to see him shaking the keys to the Impala at us. "Remind me to beat the buzzkill out of you two later, alright?" Dean quipped, tossing me the keys. I quickly catch it, scoffing at the fact that he'd rather stay here and get shit faced with Gordon.

Sam gives Dean his classic bitchface as we walk out towards the exit. Sam then opens the door, gesturing for me to go first. A mischievous thought crossed my mind. "Wait" I stop Sam. "What?" He asks me confused, his hand still holding the door open. A smirk rises on my face, his eyebrows raised at my expression and then I focused my gaze on Gordon's beer mug in his hands.

In mere seconds, it suddenly slipped from Gordon's grip and spontaneously combusted mid air. The glass scattered across the floor along with the beer. "Shit! Ahhh!" Gordon yelps, getting up quickly. "How the hell did I drop it?! Waitress!" He exclaims, calling the waitress over to clean the mess up. Sam bursted out in hysterics, causing Deans eyes snap over to us.

His face dropped, shooting me an unimpressed look, shaking his head in disappointment. I smirk back at him, shrugging nonchalantly, "Now, we can go" I say to Sam smugly, who's biting his fist from laughing. I strut out the door, adding a sway to my hips. Sam followed behind me, still laughing as we exit. Closing the door behind us. Sam hunched over, his hands on his knees. "Dude, you gotta teach me that" Sam exclaims in hysterics.

________________________________

We entered the motel room, bad mouthing Gordon. "He's a snake I tell ya, something isn't right about that guy" Sam rambles as we strip our jackets off. "That's exactly how I felt! I mean; who the fuck does he think he is? Calling you 'Sammy' and me 'princess' " I agree, huffing as rest Deans keys gently on the table next to my machete. I grew a bit silent, my mind flickering back to the vamp as I sink on my bed.

Sam notices this, so he asks, "You okay?" He asks concerned, sitting next to me on my bed. "I don't know" I sigh, leaning back on the headboard. I cross my arms over my chest, relaxing a bit as I throw my feet up on his lap. "When we found out that that dead girl was a vampire. My dad came rushing back to my mind. And I was partially excited to kill some bloodsuckers." I admit.

Sam gives me a sympathetic look, "But then when I killed that guy. It didn't feel right, you know? I expected it to feel more satisfaction that I took away one more monster like I usually do whenever we gank em. But it felt....off" I sigh, shaking my head. A lump growing in my throat, "Hey" Sam says gently, resting his hands on my shins. My eyes meet his, tears ready to fall as my bite my lip.

"You did what you had to do. I might not like the guy, but he was gonna kill Gordon. And he might have killed us." Sam assures me, offering me a small smile. "F/N would've been proud" Sam says softly. I scoff back a chuckle, wiping the tear away from my eye before wiping my nose. "Have you met the man?" I ask sarcastically, chuckling. Sam chuckles, shaking his head in amusement.

"He would've found someway to complain about what I did wrong, probably would've told me I should've burnt the corpse too, just in case" I chuckle, shaking my head. "You got me there" Sam admits, chuckling along with me. He pats my shin, indicating for me to take my feet off his lap. I do exactly that, he then gets up and goes over to his bag. "What're you doing?" I ask curiously.

"Calling Ellen to find out about this Gordon guy" He responds, taking out his phone. He searches for Ellen's contact, sinking back next to me in the bed. He puts it on speaker and it rings a couple times, "Harvelle's Roadhouse" Ellen answers. "Hey, Ellen. It's Sam Winchester and Y/N L/N" Sam responds. "Sam, Y/N. It's good to hear from you" Ellen says happily. "You kids okay, right?" She asks us concerned.

"Yeah. Yeah, everything's fine" I assure her. "We got a question though" I add. "Yeah, shoot" She says. "You ever run across a guy named Gordon Walker?" Sam asks. "Yeah, I know Gordon" She confirms. "And?" I ask for her to further continue. "Well, he's a real good hunter. Why you asking, sweetie?" She asks. "Well, we ran into him on a job and we're kind of working with him, I guess" Sam informs her.

"Don't do that guys" Ellen quickly warns us. Sam and I share a panicked look at this. "I- I thought you said he was a good hunter" I stutter. "Yeah, and Hannibal Lecter's a good psychiatrist." Ellen mutters. "Look, he is dangerous to everyone and everything around him. If he's working on a job, you kids just let him handle it and move on" She instructs us firmly. "Ellen-" Sam goes to say but she interrupts him.

"No, Sam, Y/N. You two just listen to what I'm telling you, okay?" She says firmly. Sam and I can't believe what we're hearing, we were right. "Yes ma'am" We both respond in unison, "Good, you kids stay safe okay?" She says in a mother tone. "We will. Thanks Ellen" I finish before Sam hangs us, scoffing as he tossed his phone aside. "I can't believe it. We were right" Sam shakes his head.

"We gotta call Dean" He goes to pick his phone back up to call him. "He won't answer, he never does when he's drinking. Unless it's him drunk dialing" I say, taking the phone away from him. He sighs, nodding in agreement at the fact. "When he gets back then, he needs to know" Sam says, getting up from the bed. "I'm gonna get a soda, want anything?" He asks me, walking over to the door.

"Yeah, a coke and if there's a vending machine. Get me some chips" I nod, reaching into my pocket to give him the money. Sam chuckles, waving it off, "I got it, coke and chips" He repeats my order, before opening the door to head out. "Thank you!" I call out as he locks the door. I sigh heavily, plopping back onto the bed.

A few minutes have passed and I was getting bored with my thoughts, so I decided to take a shower. I pick up my towel and toss it over my shoulder, headed to the bathroom. My ears perked up when the door opened, footsteps echoed through the room. Sam might be a giant, but I know damn well he doesn't have four feet. Luckily, I had my gun still in my jeans.

Thank you dad for always pestering me to be prepared even when in the bathroom. I pulled my gun from the back of my jeans swiftly before pressing my back against the wall. I heard a sniff come from the room, "I can smell her, she's in here" A familiar voice said, but I couldn't pinpoint who. Vampires. Fuck, I left my machete on the table. Great. I clenched my jaw before revealing myself, "Hey blood breaths!" I bellowed, shooting at them.

It barely grazed them, they grunted. Now bearing their fangs at me. I recognized one of the guys, he was the bartender we questioned earlier. I tossed my gun aside as my eyes nervously flickered to the machete on the table, with a wave of my hand. I summoned into my grip, I swiftly swung at the first guy but missed, he raised his foot and kneed me in my stomach.

I groaned painfully, gasping for air when the vampire shoved me into the wall. I went flying back and the machete slipped from my grip. He then picked up a phone to knock me out but I ducked, he ended up going headfirst into the wall. I swiftly dived to the ground for my machete, the bartender from earlier grabbed me by my feet, but I pulled back and kicked him off, causing him to stumble into the table.

With another wave of my hand, I sent the other man crashing into the nightstand. I swiftly did a kipup, charging at the bartender. He dodged my swing quickly. I didn't notice I had my gun in his hands, the last thing I saw was the butt of my gun going straight at my head before everything went dark.

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I groaned from pain in my head when my eyes flickered open. Everything was dark, I could feel my hands were bounded behind my back and something was over my head. Definitely a bag. "I swear, if anything happened to my little sister. I'm gonna kill you!" I hear a familiar voice growl angrily. His tone pained. It was Sam. "You're barely a couple months older than me dude" I mutter, my head still pounding from the gun butt.

Then suddenly. Someone pulled the bag off, my vision was still a bit blurry but when it readjusted, I opened my eyes to see the bartender who attacked me earlier in the motel room. "Oh thank god, I thought you were gone" Sam breathes out in relief. "I'm fine, just a little tied up" I respond dryly, moving my bounded hands behind my back slightly.

"Shut up. Both of you!" The bartender growls at us, bearing his fangs in our direction. Our eyes widen in horror at this as he snarls, inching closer to my neck. My heartbeat quickens in fear, but I keep my game face on because these suckers could smell fear. "No!" Sam screams. "Wait. Step back, Eli." A woman's voice orders the bartender to not sink his fangs into me.

He glares at her where she's stood in the doorway before backing away from me, retracting his fangs. His angry deathly gaze trained on me, "My names Lenore. I'm not gonna hurt you guys. We just need to talk" The woman steps in, introducing herself. Me and Sam scoff, "Talk? Yeah, okay. But I might have a tough time paying attention to much besides Eli's teeth" I snarked at her, my eyes flickering over to him and back to Lenore.

"He won't hurt you. You have my word" She assures me calmly. "Your word? Oh, yeah, great. Thanks" Sam huffs, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Listen lady. No offense, but you're not the first vampire we've met" Sam retorts with sass. "We're not like the others. We don't kill humans. And we don't drink their blood. We haven't for a long time" She explains calmly. "What is this? Some kind of joke?" I scoff, rolling my eyes.

"Notice you're both still alive." She points out. Me and Sam share a look at this, our eyes flickering over to Eli and back to Lenore. Sam chuckles ironically, "Okay, correct me if I'm wrong here, but shouldn't you be starving to death?" Sam counters. "We found other ways: cattle blood" Lenore tells us. This surprises us, "You're telling me, you're responsible for all the-" I say but she interrupts me,

"It's not ideal. In fact, it's disgusting. But allows us to get by." Lenore says. "Okay, why?" Sam asks. "Survival." She simply puts it before crossing her arms over her chest. "No deaths, no missing locals, no reason for people like you guys to come looking for people like us...we blend in" She continues to explain. That's not what I expected from a bloodsucker whatsoever.

"Our kind is practically extinct. Turns out we weren't quite high up the food chain as we imagined" She says calmly. This triggers a switch in me, my mind flashing back to my father. "Great, no need for any of you parasitic leeches running around killing innocent people, now would we?!" I growl at her, tugging at my bindings. I notice Sams face drop at my outburst, while Lenore's is taken back by my anger, a look on recognition on her face.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you lost someone dear to you by one of our kind, havent you?" She calls me out, I just narrow my eyes at her. My jaw clenching, "Not all of us are like that, we just want to survive" She assured me, a sympathetic look on her face. "Why are we explaining ourselves to this killer?" Eli spits angrily at me, cutting into the conversation. "Eli" Lenore says in a warning tone.

"We choke on cows blood so that none of them suffer. Tonight, they murdered Conrad and they celebrated" Eli growls in disgust, sounding grief stricken. "Eli, that's enough" Lenore snaps. "Yeah, Eli. That's enough" Sam sasses, "What's done is done" Lenore says to Eli calmly, before turning to us.

"We're leaving this town, tonight" She reveals to us. "Then why did you bring us here? Why are you even talking to us?" I quipped. "Believe me, I'd rather not" She scoffs honestly. "But I know your kind. Once you have the scent, you'll keep tracking us. It doesn't matter where we go. Hunters will find us" She says calmly, realization dawns on me. "So you're asking us not to follow you" Sam voices my thought.

"We have a right to live. We're not hurting anyone" She responds. "Right, so you keep saying. But give us one good reason why we should believe you" I scoff. Lenore then leans down, both hands on the sides of the chair I'm tied to. Her face inches away from mines, i hull fearfully, not daring to look her in her eyes. "Fine. You know what I'm going to do?" She says menacingly.

I don't answer, my jaw clenched, "I'm going to let you two go" This surprises both me and Sam. We share a stunned look, "Take them back. Not a mark on them" Lenore orders Eli. He smirks, inching towards us. Before placing a bag on Sam's head and then mines. I feel him grab me by the shoulder and begin to walk us out. I count the steps in my head as we walk,

I hear a door open before another set of hands grab me. A couple more steps and then a car door opens, the person tosses me in along with Sam. The bag stayed on as the ignition started. I began to count the second of the ride, making sure to take in mind every turn, left and right. Not too long after the ride, they untie us.

Tossing us out the car. We both hit the cold gravely ground in a thud. We pull the bags off of our heads to see we're back at our motel. I try to get the make and model of the car but I didn't get to see it in time. "What the fuck just happened" I mutter to myself, Sam then helps me up. "I have no fucking idea. Let's go" He responds as we dust ourselves off and make our way to our room.

We open the door to see Dean with Gordon at the desk. Deans eyes widen when he sees us, "Where have you two been?" He asks. "Can we talk to you alone?" Sam asks him in a monotone voice as I glare daggers at Gordon. Dean then turns to Gordon, "You mind chilling out for a couple minutes?" He asks Gordon. Gordon shakes his head and we all make our way out our motel room.

I lock the door behind me as Sam starts. "Dean, maybe we gotta rethink this hunt" Sam says to him. "What're you talking about? Where were you two?" Dean asks us confused. I sigh, "In the nest" I tell him. His eyes widen, "You guys found it?" He says in shock. "They found us, man" Sam tells him. "Wha- How'd you guys get out? How many did you kill?" Dean asks us.

"None" I tell him. Dean is in disbelief. "Well, guys. They didn't just let you go" Dean says. "That's exactly what they did, Dean" I stress. "Alright, well, where is it?" Dean asks a little too eager. "We were blindfolded. We don't know" Sam says calmly, giving him a weird look. "Well, you gotta know something" Dean presses. "We went over that bridge outside of town. But, Dean, listen. Maybe we shouldn't go after them" I tell him.

"Why not?" Dean cocks his eyebrow confused. "We don't think they're like other vampires. I don't think they're killing people" Sam tries to explain to him. "You're joking" Dean scoffs, not convinced. He looks between me and Sam, now realizing we aren't joking. "Then how do they stay alive or undead, whatever the hell they are?" Dean queries. "The cattle mutilations. They said they live off of animal blood" I tell him.

"And you guys believed them?" Dean asks a bit amused, probably thinking we're being naive. "Look at us, Dean" Sam gestures between me and him, letting out a nervous chuckle. "They let us go without a scratch" Sam points out. "Wait, so you guys are saying...? No man. No way. I don't know why they let you guys go. I don't really care. We find them and waste them" Dean shakes his head. Determined to kill them before walking away.

"Why?" I call out to him. He then turns to me, "What part of 'vampires' don't you understand, y/n? If it's supernatural, we kill it. End of story. That's our job" Dean says firmly. "No, Dean. That is not our job! Our job is hunting evil. And if these things aren't killing people, they're not evil!" Sam defends. "Of course they're killing people. That's what they do, they're all the same thing guys. They're not human, okay? We have to exterminate every last one of them." Dean argues.

I rub my head in frustration, "No, Dean. I don't think so, alright? Not this time" I try to remain calm. "Gordon's been on those vamps for a year. He knows" Dean says. "Gordon?" Sam scoffs. "Yes" Dean answers. "You're taking his word for it?" I scoff. "Yes" He answers again. "Ellen says he's bad news" Sam tells him. Dean raises his eyebrow at this, "You guys called Ellen?" He asks.

"Yeah" Me and Sam respond in unison. "And I'm supposed to listen to her? We barely know her. No, thanks. I'll go with Gordon" Dean rolls his eyes. "Right! Because Gordon's such an old friend" I snap back sarcastically, chuckling humorlessly. Dean looks offended by my words, "You know, y/n. I expected more from you" He scoffs disappointed before walking away again. I'm confused by this, "What's that supposed to mean?!" I call out to him.

He turns to me, "Nothing. Okay." He shrugs it off but I press. "No, talk your shit Winchester. Since you're so trusting of Gordon." I snap back, sarcasm seeping through my tone, crossing my arms over my chest as I wait for his response. He shakes his head, "You killed that vampire, no hesitation. What's wrong now?!" Dean argues. "I was saving our asses from getting killed! Just because I killed that vampire doesn't mean I trust Gordon!" I argue back.

Third Person POV

The argument between Dean and Y/N was getting heated, Sam looked on. His eyes flickered between the both of them nervously as their voice escalated, echoing through the empty motel parking lot. Feeling like a child of divorce, looking at his parents fighting for custody.

"For someone who went through what you went through, I'd expect you to hate vampires more!" Dean shouts.

"I do hate them. Trust me, I do but they're not killing anyone, Dean! I'm not gonna kill innocent people!" Y/N retorts back defensively.

"They're not innocent, Y/N!" Dean yells.

"So you trust you old friend Gordon but not us?! Your brother and your longest friend?! Why can't you just take our word for it?!" Y/N shouts back, frustrated at the fact that Dean was trusting Gordon more than her and Sam.

"Because you're being stupid!?" Dean retorts.

"Excuse me?!" She scoffs in offense, shouting enraged.

"A vampire killed your father and you're willing to leave a pack of bloodsucking monsters to run free because they claim to live in peace! He'd be disappointed in you, it's an insult to his memory!!!" Dean bellows.

The second he said that, he regretted it instantly. Y/N is taken back by this, her mouth snapped shut at Deans words. While Sam is agape in disbelief at the harsh words that left his brothers mouth. That was the last thing Y/N expected to leave his mouth. Her heart panged painfully, already feeling like she disappointed her father and now Dean had to go and confirm it.

Had it been anyone else, it wouldn't have bothered her as much. But coming from the man she loved, it stung like a son of a bitch.nA bubble of humorless laughter left her throat, the anger rising in her body. "Okay" She says calmly, before turning away. Y/N drew back her fist before right hooking Dean across his jaw. Deans head snaps to the side, grunting in pain, surprised from the punch.

Not expecting there to be such a kick from that. Dean might be Sam's brother but he was internally cheering on Y/N for punching his brother, he damn well deserved it from what he just said. And honestly, if y/n didn't do it. He would've done it for her. "Fuck you, you don't get to say that!" She growls at him enraged. Her nostrils flared with hot steam practically rushing out of it.

Dean nurses his jaw, his eyes wide when he notices Y/N's eyes glassed over to a ball of white. The only time he's seen this was when f/n died, and in the hospital when she saw him but he had no memory of it. Then with a wave of her hand., She sends him barreling back into the Impala next to them. "Woah! Easy!" Sam tries to hold her down, he clutched onto her but Dean was still pinned to the car.

"YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO SAY THAT!" She screams at him, she loosens her mind grip on him as Sam holds her, trying to calm her down. Her eyes went back to her normal (e/c) ones. Dean peels himself from the car, "You can hit me all you want, princess. Toss me in the air or flatten me like a pancake. It won't change anything. I'm going to that nest." Dean says in a deadpan tone.

He knew what he said was crossing a line because Y/N would not only, never say something about like that John to him, despite not liking the man. Instead, she'd console him and comfort him. But being grief stricken himself, he allowed his anger to get the best of him. Hurting the woman he loved,

"We won't tell you where it is" Sam takes Y/N's defense. "I'll find it myself" Dean snaps back. He then gives y/n one last look, she didn't dare to look at him. Not allowing her eyes to meet his, his heart dropped. Scared that she'd never look at him the same, y/n's eyes were glued to the floor. Trying to take deeps breathes instead of letting her anger getting the best of her. She didn't want to hurt anyone, especially the boys.

Her newfound powers were getting the best of her, she barely knew how to control it and it only came in times of desperate need and anger. She was scared, scared of herself, scared she'd hurt someone else. Someone she cared about. Dean turns to walk back to the motel room.

"Dean, wait" Sam calls out to his brother. Following behind him. Y/N then follows behind Sam. Dean opens the door to see it empty, "Gordon?" He calls out for it but no answer. "You think he went after them?" Sam asks. "Probably" Dean answers. "Dean, we have to stop him" Y/N says panicked. "Really, Y/N? Because I say we lend a hand" Dean scoffs.

"Just give us the benefit of the doubt, would you? You owe me that" Y/N pleads. Deans heart pangs, guilt rising again. She didn't take long to use that one against him but he deserved it. He nods firmly, "I'll drive, give me the keys" He says to her calmly. Y/N goes to pick up the keys where she left them on the desk, when they came back from the bar. Only to see it now gone. "He snaked the keys" Sam gasps.

________________________________

"I can't believe this. I just fixed her up too" Dean grumbles in annoyance as he hotwires the Impala. The engine spluttered for a couple seconds before starting. Dean sighs, looking over to Y/N next to him in the passenger seat, her eyes were trained on a map along with Sam in the back with his own map.

Dean clears his throat awkwardly, "So, the bridge. Is that all you got?" He asks her gently. "The bridge was for and a half minutes from their farm." Y/N responds dryly, tracing her finger on the map. "How do you know?" Sam asks surprised. "I counted" She says, turning to Sam and then back to the map.

"Damn, should've thought of that" Sam grumbles to himself for not thinking in the moment. While Dean gives her a proud smile which she didn't acknowledge, his smile dropped as she continued. "They took a left out of the farm, then turned right onto a dirt road. Follow that for two minutes, slightly uphill. Then took another quick right and we hit the bridge" She explains, her finger tracing the trail on the map.

"Impressive" Sam chuckles, impressed by her tracking skills. "You're good." Dean commends her. "A monster pain in the ass....but you're good...with a mean right hook" He adds, smirking at her before putting the Impala in drive. Y/N scoffs, rolling her eyes as she held back a chuckle. Sam shakes his head at their version of saying 'I'm sorry'. At least they made up and aren't gonna fight, Sam did not want to get caught in the middle of that.

________________________________

The car was filled with awkward silences as they made out way down the stretch, headed towards the bridge. Dean would look at y/n with a pained expression when she wasn't looking, and she'd do the same when his eyes were on the road. Sam speculating the entire time, his lips tucked into his mouth as he looks between the two, praying for the awkwardness to subside.

After following Y/N's directions, they stumbled onto a house. Parked outside was the same car that Sam and Y/N was transported in back to the motel. Y/N didn't recognize it but Sam made sure to get a good look at it. "Look, that's the car they tossed us out of. This has to be the house" Sam points out. Dean then puts the car in park and they all jump out.

They made their way up the porch to see the door was wide open, they all shared a look at this before walking in. They entered the living room, stumbling upon Gordon and Lenore. Lenore was tied to a chair, blood dripping from open wounds as Gordon wielded his knife dripping with Dead Man's Blood, torturing Lenore. Gordon turned his head to the trio.

Sam and Y/N's eyes widen in terror at the sight. "Sam, Dean, Y/N. Come on in" Gordon greets them. "Hey, Gordon, what's going on?" Dean asks warily. "Just poisoning Lenore here with some dead man's blood. She's gonna tell us where all her friends are" Gordon responds as if what he's doing is casual. "Aren't you sweetie?" Gordon smirks at Lenore menacingly, who's choking on her own blood. Heaving from the poison.

Sam and Y/N clench their jaws, "Wanna help?" Gordon turns to Dean. "Look, man-" Dean begins a bit nervous. "Grab a knife. I was just about to start in on the fingers" Gordon days before slicing Lenore's wrist with the bloodied knife. Her arm seared from the poison, making her grow weaker. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Hey, let's all chill out, huh?" Dean tries to ease the situation. "I'm completely chill" Gordon says calmly.

"Gordon, put the knife down" Sam says warily, taking a step forward but Dean and Y/N out their hands out to stop him. "It sounds like it's Sammy that needs to chill" Gordon smirks. "Just step away from her, alright?" Y/N tries to reason. Gordon turns back to Lenore who's choking weakly, and back to them. "You're right" He says to Y/N before dropping his knife on the table.

"I'm wasting my time here. This bitch will never talk" He says grimly, before taking up his machete, pulling the cover off of it. "Might as well put her out of her misery. I just sharpened it, so it's completely humane" He snarks at Sam and Y/N. "Gordon, I'm letting her go" Y/N says before taking a step forwards to help Lenore.

Gordon holts her in her actions by pressing the knife to her chest, "You're not doing a damn thing" He growls. Deans heart drops, Sam tries to reach out for Y/N but, "You take one step closer, I'll slice the bitch" Gordon threatens. Y/N puts her hands up in surrender, "Hey, hey, hey. Gordon, let's talk about this" Dean tries to get Gordon to take the knife off of her. "What's there to talk about? It's like I said, Dean. No shades of grey" Gordon retorts.

"Yeah, I hear you. And I know how you feel" Dean responds. "Do you?" Gordon cocks his eyebrow, his machete still pointed at Y/N's chest. "The vampire that killed your sister deserved to die. But this-" Dean tries to resin but Gordon chuckles darkly, cutting him off. "Killed my sister?" Gordon smiles darkly. "That filthy fang didn't kill my sister. It turned her. Made her one of them. So I hunted her down and killed her myself" Gordon reveals, his knife still against Y/N's chest.

They're all taken back by this, "You did what?" Dean mutters. "It wasn't my sister anymore. It wasn't human. I didn't blink. And neither would you" Gordon points the blade to himself, then to Dean and back to Y/N. "So you knew all along then? You knew about the vampires. You knew they werent killing anyone" Sam says in realization. "You knew about the cattle, and you just didn't care" Y/N scoffs.

"Care about what? A nest of vampires suddenly acting nice? Taking a little time out from sucking into innocent people and we're supposed to buy that?" Gordon chuckles. "Trust me. It doesn't change what they are" Gordon points at himself with the machete before turning to Lenore with a hate-filled gaze. "And I can prove it" He turns back to Y/N. He grabs her wrist in a flash, slicing it. Before gripping her in a chokehold.

Sam and Dean don't think. They just act, pulling their guns out and cocking it at Gordon. "Let her go!" Dean growls at him, enraged. "Now!" Sam yells. Y/N tries to break from it but he's too strong. "Relax. If I wanted to kill your bitch, she'd be on the floor already. Just making a little point." Gordon says calmly, his machete pressed to Y/N's throat as he held her arm dripping with blood out.

He then moved her closer to Lenore, holding her arm over the convulsing vampire's face. The blood then dripped from her arm and onto her face. Lenore bared her fangs, snarling for more, "You think she's so different now?" Gordon snarks at the Winchesters. "Hey!" Dean yells, "Still wanna save her? Look at her. They're all the same. Evil, blood thirsty." Gordon says menacingly.

Lenore retracted her face, "No, no." She says pleadingly. "You hear her Gordon?" Sam motions towards Lenore. "No, no" Lenore groans, trying to control herself. Gordon's grip loosens on Y/N, allowing her free. "We're done here" Y/N growls at him, "Sam, Y/N. Get her out of her" Dean orders the two younger hunters. "Yeah" They respond in unison.

They both help Lenore to her feet, wrapping each of her arm around both their shoulders. "Come on, hun. We've got you" Y/N says gently as they help her limp out of the room. Gordon goes to move but Dean still at his gun cocked at him. "Uh-uh. Uh-uh" He warns him to stay put. Gordon holts in action, putting his hands up in surrender.

"Gordon...I think you and I got some things to talk about" Dean says to him dryly. "Get out of my way" Gordon says. "Sorry" Dean smirks. "You're not serious" Gordon scoffs. "I'm having a hard time believing it too, but I know what I saw. If you want those vampires, you gotta go through me" Dean warns. Gordon takes a look at his knife before sticking it into the table besides him.

"Fine" He shrugs nonchalantly. Deans smirk widens, he then uncocks his hun before disarming the click into his hand. Stuffing it into his pocket. Gordon takes the opportunity to right hook Dean, who stumbled back but quickly recovered. Retaliating with his own right hook. Gordon then pulled his knife out from the table making Dean groan.

He tried stabbing Dean twice but he dodges before grabbing Gordon by his arm and throwing him into the wall. The knife was still in his hand so he head butted him twice, knocking his hand against the wall to disarm him off his knife. "What're you doing man? You're doing this for a fang?" Gordon groans as Dean held him by his throat.

"No. I'm doing this for my girl who's throat you held a knife to!" Dean growls back, right hooking him again. Gordon turned to Deans back was faced to the doorway. "Come on, Dean. We're in the same side here" Gordon pleads. "I don't think so you, sadistic bastard" Dean snaps back. Gordon quickly blindsided him, elbowing him before kicking Dean into a wooden table.

It crashed in impact, Dean shakes his head. Dazzled from the fall as he groans in pain. Gordon inches closer to Dean, "You're not like your brother. You're a killer like me and y/n." Gordon says. Dean quickly trips him but knocking him at the back of his knee. He then straddles Gordon, throwing punch after punch at his facts.

"Keep...Her..God...Damn...Name...Out...Off...Your...Fucking...Mouth!!!" Dean screams, punching Gordon with every word that left his mouth. He then grabs him by his shirt and throws him into a glass cabinet. Turning him around and then tossing him against the wall. Gordon tries to hit but he's too weak, Dean quickly grabs his arm. Putting it down.

Right hooking him again twice before holding Gordon under his arm as if he's gonna hit him a reverse DDT wrestling move, he drags him into the other room before 'accidentally' walking into the wall. Sending Gordon's headfirst into it, earning a groan from him. "Oh, sorry" Dean feigns a sarcastic apology.

He then places him on a chair and begins tying him to it. "You know. I might be like you...and I might not. Y/N is certainly nothing like your as" Dean tells him before leaning to whisper in his ear. "But you're the one tied up right now" He smirks, as Gordon glares at him.

________________________________

The sun has risen and Gordon is still tied to the chair as Dean paces the room Gordons knife. The front door opens and shuts, Y/N and Sam walk into the room to see Gordon tied up. Their eyebrows raised, "Did we miss anything?" Sam asks. "Eh, not much" Dean shrugs. "Lenore get out okay?" Dean asks them. "Yeah. All of them did" Y/N answers, glaring at Gordon.

"Then I guess our work here is done" Dean smirks at Gordon. "How you doing Gordy? You gotta tinkle yet?" Y/N taunts Gordon, earning chuckles from the boys. Gordon rolls his eyes not answering. "Alright" She snorts. "Well, get comfy. We'll call someone in two or three days, have them come out, untie you" Dean further taunts, walking over to the table. Sticking the knife into the wooden table.

"Ready to go, Dean?" Sam asks. "Not yet" Dean says, walking over to them. "I guess this is goodbye" Dean chuckles, fixing his hair. "Well, it's been real" He smirks, drawing his fist back before punching Gordon so hard. He chair went toppling back along with him to the ground. Sam grimaces holding back a laugh along with Y/N. "Okay, I'm good now" Dean clears his throat.

"We can go" He says simply before walking out. Sam and Y/N share an amused look before leaving the house. As they walk down the porch, Y/N turns to Dean. "Hey, Dean?" She says. "Yeah?" He answers. She preps herself, taking a deep breath. "Clock me one" She clears her throat. The boys look at her in disbelief.

"What?" Dean scoffs, "Come on, come on. I won't even hit you back. Let's go" She screws her eyes shut. Dean scoffs a chuckle as Sam shakes his head, snickering. Deciding to leave them be as he walks back to the Impala. "No. Im not gonna hit you, Princess. I'll never hit you" Dean shakes his head. She peeps one eye open, "Come on, you wuss. Put the your morals aside for a sec. And that's coming from a raging feminist. You get a freebie. Hit me. Come on" Y/N tempts him.

"No, y/n." Dean says firmly. "If I'm being honest, I deserved it" Dean admits, rubbing his jaw. Y/N sighs, "So did I" She admits. "What?" He's taken back. "You were right, dad would've been disappointed in me. Hell, I'm sure he's probably rolling in his grave right now" She bites her lips. "Are you kidding me?" Dean scoffs. "Y/N, you and Sam just saved innocent people. Sure, they were vampires. But you did the right thing. He would've been proud" Dean assured her, resting a hand on her shoulder.

Her eyes flicker up to to his, "You don't know that" She holds back her tears. "I'm so sorry, princess. I should've never said that." Dean apologizes sincerely. She nods, accepting his apology. "I wish we never took this job. It's jacked everything up" She scoffs. "What do you mean?" Dean asks her, taking his hand off her shoulder. She takes a deep breath, "Think about all the hunts we went on, charming. Our whole lives" She begins. "Okay?" Dean says.

"What if we killed things that didn't deserve killing, you know? I mean, the way our dads raised us-" She sighs. "Y/N, after what happened to mom and then your mom....they did their best" Dean tried to reassure her. "I know they did. But they weren't prefect" Y/N says. Dean shrugs in agreement, "But the way they raised us to hate those things. And man I HATE them. I do, I miss daddy every single fucking day" She grits her teeth.

"When I killed that vampire at the mill. I didn't even think about it. I expected to enjoy it. I did for a moment but not the way I wanted to." She admits. "I just- I don't know how we do it" Y/N sighs. "Because it's in our blood. Every instinct told me to kill, Lenore. I was gonna kill her. I was gonna kill them all" Dean admits. "Yeah, but you didn't" Y/N points out. "That matters." She adds.

Dean gives her a soft smile, "Truce?" Y/N puts her hand out for a shake, "Truce" Dean smirks, taking her hand into his. Their eyes meet and in a flash Dean pulls her by her arm into a hug. Wrapping his arms around her waist, Y/N chuckles into the hug, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "You really are a pain in the ass, you know?" Dean jokes, his face buried in her neck.

"Guess I might have to stick around and be a pain in the ass, then" She quipped back, pulling away from the hug. His arms still around her waist while her arms are still around his shoulders. Her eyes flicker down to his lips, along with his eyes flickering down to her.

Meanwhile, Sam was sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala, watching the two as if they were a chick flick he was indulged it. "Just lean in, man. It's not that hard. Come on" Sam mutters to himself as the twos eyes pierced into each others. He rolled his eyes when he saw Y/N took her hands off of Deans shoulder and awkwardly cleared her throat along with Dean, who's face was flushed. "Wussies" Sam scoffs.

They then begin to walk back to the Impala, "Thanks" Dean genuinely thanks her as she opens the back door. "Don't mention it" She smiles softly, before jumping in. Dean takes a moment to recollect himself before jumping into the Impala. Putting it in drive and hitting the road for whatever awaits them.

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Authors Note: Ohhhh the angstttt ahahah. Hope everyone enjoyed!! And trust me when I say, this slow burn is killing me too LOL *cue villainous laugh* This chapter is unedited and I plan on coming back to edit.

@hjgdhghoe @rach5ive @tiggytaylor @star-yawnznn @quarterhorse19 @deangirl96 @bitchykittenconnoisseur

Xoxo

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