#holy shit the face mask didn’t burn my face off

[sorrowfulwill]

chilly face…face mask made me chilly…..chilly

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

Keep your eyes on the road (aka an unexpected sex pollen adventure)

Summary: Honestly, this is what Bucky gets for not listening to you.

Characters: Bucky x Reader

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ only. Oral sex while driving, sex pollen, sex in a car, bad language, Bucky desperately needing to bang. Also please do not try to replicate this unless you are in fact with a super soldier who has super reflexes, as blow jobs while driving should probably be attempted by super people. 

A/N: Is this really my first time writing sex pollen? Yes it is. Is Bucky being needy and desperate kinda fun? Yes it is. Did I enjoy writing this? Yes I most certainly did. I hope you enjoy it too. ;)

*****

The thing is, you told him you didn’t feel like coming on this mission.

And you told him not to open that container with the giant blood red skull on it. 

And you told him to to wear a mask.

And you told him to let you drive, but he shouted something about you being a passenger princess before unceremoniously shoving you in the getaway car.

So yeah. You told him all these things.

The thing is, Bucky fumes, glaring at the swerve of headlights advancing in his rearview mirror - he really needs to learn how to fucking listen.  

“Shit, shit, shit!” He slams the accelerator to the floor and the car gives a sickening lurch. Beside him, you crack your head on the window, trying to buckle your seatbelt and swearing at the top of your lungs. 

“Bucky what the hell’s the matter with you? Just drive.” 

“I’m trying,” he snaps. He can feel the flushing prickle of sweat beading down his neck. Rubbing a shaking hand down his face, he blows out a harsh breath. “Why in god’s name is the heater on? Turn that shit off, I’m burning up over here.”

Craning your neck, you watch the headlights gaining. Fumbling for the Glock taped under the seat, you shoot him a confused look. 

“The heater isn’t on, it’s freezing in here. I told Steve to fix it and he ignored me because he's a giant asshole.”

Eyes locked on the road, Bucky reaches blindly for the window handle, hurriedly rolling it down. A blast of cold air rushes through the car and he gulps in relief.

“Better, much better,” he mutters. He squints into the rearview mirror again, mentally calculating the time between headlights and taillights, when he feels a twisting wrench in his chest. It sends bursts of heat skimming under his skin, snagging every nerve along the way. A panicked whine slips through clenched teeth. Alarmed, you turn back and meet his wild eyes, sweat now pouring down his face.   

“What the - what’s wrong? Bucky? Talk to me!” 

When you grab his arm, he visibly recoils. 

“No no no, don’t touch me, don’t - ah holy fuck, don’t touch me. If you do, I can’t - I’m gonna put the car in the ditch.” 

“You’re scaring me Bucky, what is this?”

He says nothing, deep in thought as his brain runs through the mission on warp speed, trying to identify something, anything, that could possibly -

Wait.

Oh.

Crap.

It's like a sucker punch when he realizes.

“The gold dust that flew out of that container, did any of it touch you?”

“You mean the one I told you not to open but you did it anyway because you can’t follow directions? Bucky what is wrong, you need-“

“Answer me,” he snarls. In the dashboard glow, you see his face pale. He blinks rapidly, trying to focus. “Sorry, sorry, just - please answer. Did any of it get on your skin?”

Baffled, you shake your head.

“No. None of it touched me, it just hit you.” 

Bucky nods, relieved. 

“Good, okay. Okay. Think I know what this is,” he grits out. Another shudder wracks his body and he grips the steering wheel so hard it squeals in protest. “HRNE-75.”

Your response is a blank stare.

“Am I supposed to know what random letters and numbers mean?”

“It’s a stimulant.” 

“Like caffeine?”

“No, like a drug.” You can hear him breathing faster. “Like a - like an aphrodisiac.”

Still a blank stare.

“What kind of aphrodisiac?”

“People call it sex pollen,” he says flatly. “It makes you horny. Like - really fucking horny. And it hurts like hell unless you do something about it.”

“Well, okay. We’ll figure that out when we get home, but for now - “

“I can’t - I don’t think I can wait until we get home,” he interrupts. Sweat soaks the collar of his shirt and he shifts uncomfortably, glancing down. Following his gaze, you can see his cock straining against his jeans. 

“Jesus Christ. Bucky if you’re in pain, just pull over and let me drive, you can jerk off in the backseat.”

“We don’t have time to pull over, that fucker’s right behind us and if we don’t get us past Steve’s stupid check point, we’re gonna lose him and then the whole mission is wasted and I got sprayed by some bullshit horny dust for no reason and I’m sweating so much right now and I think I’m going to throw up, my dick hurts so fucking bad!” 

His voice reaches an hysterical pitch and you press your lips together, choking down the laughter. 

“Okay okay, I got it. So if you come, does that stop the pain?”

“Yeah, but doesn’t matter,” his shoulders slump miserably. “We can’t stop yet and I can’t jerk off and drive at the same time. Maybe under normal circumstances I could do it, I mean sure I have done that before because sometimes I get bored driving, but I just don’t have that kind of focus right now baby, I don’t.” 

Tremors are rattling through his entire body now, as he fights for control. As he shifts his hips, unconsciously searching for some kind of friction to offer relief, an idea pops into your brain.     

“Hey. Let me give you road head.” 

His hands slip on the wheel and he double-takes. 

“Wha - road head? Like - what does that mean? Like you’d give me a blow job? While I’m driving?”

If this were any other situation, you would tease him mercilessly for the way his voice squeaks, but you smother the urge. Plenty of time for that later.   

“Of course. If it helps.”

“But you mean, you’re going to suck my dick? While I’m driving?”

“Love the emphasis on the important words. Yes, I’m going to suck your dick, while you’re driving.”

Bucky bats the idea around, debating whether you’re actually serious and whether he is probably definitely going to drive down a highway at - he checks the speedometer - 145 miles per hour, while you suck his dick. Another wave of heat roils through him and he stifles a groan. Glancing at your expectant face, he gives a shaky nod.

“You’re sure?”

Rolling your eyes, you unbuckle your seatbelt and scoot closer to him.

“It’s not a hardship Buck. You know I’m your dick’s number one fan.” Carefully popping the button on his jeans, you tug down his zipper and he pushes up his hips, struggling to help. The slight pressure on his aching cock already has him whimpering. “Just drive careful, alright? If I die because you wreck Steve’s car while I’m sucking your dick, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Bucky breathes. “Careful. Sure. Whatever you say.”

Grasping him firmly, you lower your head and take his dick all the way down in one smooth move.

“Oh my fucking god,” he shouts, eyes fluttering. “Sweet shit that’s good!” 

He keeps one hand in a death grip on the wheel, while he places the other against the back of your neck, keeping you firmly in place. Bobbing up and down, your tongue strokes along the ridges of his cock and you feel him swelling impossibly thicker. Tightening your lips, you suck hard, dragging slowly up  and he croaks out a garbled plea.   

“Keep going, keep going, please keep going.” Beneath your practiced mouth, his entire body begins to vibrate and he grips the back of your neck tight, chanting desperately. “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come, holy fuck, I’m gonna come.”

He thrusts up, holding your head tight as he comes down your throat. When your fingers scratch along his thigh, his foot inadvertently pushes the accelerator harder. The car climbs to 155 miles per hour and above you, the sound of ragged panting fills the car. 

Releasing his dick with a soft lick, you look up and Bucky chokes at the sight of your spit slick, swollen lips curving into a smile.

“That was fast. Feel better?”

He breathes a whispered yes, but you can still see the red flush still spreading down his neck. He swallows hard and grimaces.  

“Helped. Definitely helped. Still hurts, but better,” he says faintly and you see his cock is still rock hard. “It’s okay, it’s enough for now, I appreciate the - “

Rolling your eyes, you lean down and take him back in your mouth. Slipping a hand between his legs, your fingers carefully cup the heavy weight of his balls, squeezing gently. The rest of his sentence fades, melting into a rush of fervent praise.

A luscious ache settles in your belly, feeding off the hot desire you feel sparking through him, at the filthy words you hear him whispering above you. If you weren’t driving down a pitch black highway at a completely inappropriate speed, you’d consider reaching down to take care of yourself, but since you’re already flouting the most basic rules of automotive safety, you figure you should keep your hands on Bucky’s balls instead.

Of course, that doesn’t stop you from rubbing your thighs together to try and relieve some of the pressure. 

Bucky glances over at your movement, a deep growl rumbling in his chest at the sight. He didn’t think anything could make him harder at this point, but the image of you so turned on by giving him a blow job, does the trick. He grinds his teeth, dangerously close to just pulling over and saying fuck this ridiculous mission. Rubbing his hand between your flexing shoulder blades and slowly bobbing head, his rasping voice carves into you.

“Does this make you feel good? Doin’ this for me? Fuck me, wish I could help you out right now. You’re so damn good to me baby. Moment we stop this car, I’m gonna fuck you so good.”

With his dick buried deep in your throat, your enthusiastic hum of agreement vibrates deliciously and he struggles to keep his eyes on the road. Everything feels incredible. Your tongue curling around the head of his cock, sucking gently on the tip, before sliding back down. The way you swallow around him, the squeeze of your throat, so hot and slick and tight. It feels so god damn good and he’s close again, one more second - 

The transmitter sitting in the console squawks to life, an ear piercing siren shocking you both from the lust fueled haze. You jerk off Bucky’s dick in a panic and he nearly screeches at the loss. Scrabbling with the device, he smashes the green TALK button.

“What?! What the fuck do you need, I’m busy.”

“Calm down there, speed racer,” comes Steve’s breezy voice. “Just letting you know we pulled the guy over. Turn around and come back so we can - “

Steve’s voice is abruptly silenced when Bucky crushes the transmitter with an easy squeeze of vibranium fingers. He flings the shattered splinters of plastic into the back seat and slams both feet on the brakes. The car fishtailes across the road, before skidding to a stop in a spray of gravel. Throwing it into park, he flips the lever under his seat and slides back with a mechanical thunk. Scrambling to pull his pants down all the way, he spreads his legs wide and takes his dick in hand. His eyes are dark, blown black when he turns to you.

“We’re safe. Get your pants off and get over here. Now.” he barks. 

Grinning at him, you tug on your tac pants, shimmying easily from the stretchy black fabric and clambering into his lap. There is no pretense. Bucky lines himself up and yanks you down, filling your cunt in one rough thrust. You’re so wet, he slides in easy. 

“God, Bucky,” you hiss. “That feels so good.”

He tugs on your shirt, pulling everything off until your breasts are bared. His mouth finds a nipple, teeth gently scrapping and tugging, greedily sucking the sensitive peak between his lips. He moves your hips faster, lifting and dragging you down on his cock over and over, until he jerks you down one final time, slams his head against the seat and comes with a long, guttural moan. Deep inside, you feel him pulsing over and over, until you can feel it dripping down your thighs, hot and sticky. 

Head tipped back, he struggles to catch his breath and you can see his heartbeat jumping wildly at his throat. When he finally opens his eyes to meet your questioning stare, you can see.

His eyes are still dark. 

“Need more?” You smile gently, smoothing sweaty hair from his forehead.

He swallows hard and then nods slowly.  

Rocking your hips, you grind down on him and lean in for a deep kiss, sliding your tongue against his. Bucky gives a shuddering sigh, sinking back into the feel of your body rolling against his. Warm hands stroke lightly down your spine and you can feel the thick, heavy weight of him growing hard again between your legs. But waring with the pleasure, a nervous tension seems to grip him.

“Bucky. I’m not made of glass,” you admonish. Licking delicately along his earlobe, he mumbles a string of apologies and your lips trail down his neck, pressing a kiss against that fluttering heartbeat. “You won’t hurt me, I promise. Use me however you need. Make yourself feel good. Just make me come before you’re done. Deal?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay,” he says, shivering uncontrollably at the heady combination of your cool breath and fiery words. “I can do that. ‘Course I’ll do that.”

His hands slide up your back and hook over your shoulders, his fingers splayed over your collarbone. He holds your body firmly in place, thrusting up into you and simultaneously rocking your hips forward. The angle is perfect and you moan at the feel, dizzy with desire as his cock rubs that spot inside just right. 

The sounds filling the car are purely pornographic. Wet skin slapping, Bucky grunting with every hard snap of his hips. The feel of his calloused fingertips stroking up your belly, between your breasts, pressing divots into your skin. He stares up at you, his eyes heavy and hooded and utterly adoring, relishing the sight of you grinding your pussy against him. His hand slips between your legs, stroking over your clit, rubbing fast tight circles. He smugly drinks down the breathless gasps he coaxes from you.   

“Bucky, I think - I think I’m - ”

The words falter when your hand slams into the car roof and your head falls back, eyes drifting closed. Lust slaps him hard as he watches you come, writhing above him, your voice cracking when you moan out his name again and again.  

“That's it, there you go baby,” he whispers roughly. The vision is breathtaking. Stunning. He figures maybe he could get used to sex pollen and a perpetually aching dick if it means he gets to see you like this.

He was already close (again), but the pure pleasure in your face is enough to knock him over the edge. He buries his face between your breasts, pinching your nipple and licking over your skin and your fingers tangle in his damp hair. You hold him tight as he gasps out your name, emptying himself inside you one more time.

And this time, finally, you can feel some of the spring tight tension disappear. His skin is still hot, but the shivers begin to diminish. Rough hands still grip your hips, but it feels controlled. The manic lust begins to fade, leaving a smoldering fire in his chest.   

Bucky tips a weary head back and meets your amused expression. A smile tugs the corner of his lips and he shakes his head. 

“God damn,” he sighs.

Scratching your nails lazily along his scalp, he leans into your touch, humming like a contented, if slightly feral, kitten. 

“Feel better?”

“So much better,” he murmurs. “Sorry that went completely sideways. Wasn’t really expecting that. Obviously enjoyed it, but still. Unexpected adventure.”

Pressing a kiss to his forehead you laugh.

“Next time, maybe don’t open the can with the giant red skull on it. Deal?”

“Deal.”

A comfortable silence settles. Bucky trails his fingers down your arms and you eye him thoughtfully.

“So, do you think they’ll come looking for us?”

“Maybe. Eventually. What should we do while we wait?”

There is a moments pause. And then you begin to roll your hips against him again and Bucky feels the electricity flare to life once more.

“We keep going.”

*****

[bitchlessdino]

scream your heart out (m)

🔪pairing: fem!reader x seventeen (???) 🔪genre: horror, slasher, smut 🔪tags: DISCLAIMIER!!! MAY NOT SUIT MOST AUDIENCES, Graphic sexual and violent imagery color coded in pink, abrupt changes in text color, features/mentions members (Chan, Seungkwan, Wonwoo, Minghao, Seungcheol, Seokmin, Junhui, Soonyoung, Joshua), established relationships, scream au!seventeen, Hybristophilia, erotophonophilia, homicidophilia, graphic images, mention panic attacks, smoking, mentions disfigurement of faces, severed body parts, knives, guns, threatening phone calls, face masks (horror), knife wielding, blood, gore, death/murder, knife play, bloody handjobs, cum mixing with blood, consensual sex but nonconsensual murder, HONESTLY SOME REALLY FUCKED UP SHIT AND IM SORRY BUT YALL SHOULD BE READING THE WARNINGS, sexual innuendos, kitchen sex, daddy kink, unprotected sex, cream pies, cuck! (??) member, voyeurism, exhibitionism, breeding kink, PLS LET ME KNOW IF IM MISSING ANYTHING PLS 🔪word count: 6.8k 🔪summary: you and your friends get caught up in a classic horror slasher movie, only it's in real life. Now you're off to fend for yourselves in Seungcheol's million dollar home. The question is, did you keep them out, or did you just lock them in? 🔪author note: thank you @multi-kpop-fanfics and @wonwussy for beta reading for me <3. here's some of their notes “I’m scratching my face to not fucking scream” “WELL SHIT BRO WHAT THE FUCK” -Zeta “It definitely does capture that slasher essence” -SJ this was so fun yet mind numbing to write but this is way more extreme than anything I’ve ever written like I lost a lot of sanity writing this. FR one of the most fucked up things I’ve ever written. I hope it was worth it. ENJOY EVERYONE and even tho it came out late HAPPY HALLOWEEN

Ever since the murders over a week ago, everyone in town has been on edge. All including the individuals most closely involved.

You had lost three core members of your eight. 

Joshua, someone you’ve known since grade school who was sliced open from the back before being stabbed 8 times to the point of excessive bleeding. He had just gone out to walk his dog, the poor creature being the only reason they found his body at all. If not for the dog’s bloody paws, and the trail of blood they left behind finding help, Joshua’s cadaver would’ve lost deep in the woods.

And then Chan, your long-time boyfriend, was stabbed fifteen times in the chest. His face was so disfigured from obvious violence and what looked to be burn scars, that he was practically unrecognizable if not for the fact he died in his own home. Police are still looking for his severed arms and legs to this day with no luck.

And finally, Seungkwan, who hadn’t died but lost to the paranoia festering in his blood like a disease. That caused him to take the train to the furthest destination possible to attempt to escape death if at all possible, leaving the rest of you with only the reassuring texts he left in his wake.

All that was left was you, Seokmin, Seungcheol, Minghao, and Wonwoo; the core five.

“Okay, absolutely no one is leaving this house for the time being. Until the psycho is caught behind bars, dead, or whatever the fuck! We’re safe here.”

Seungcheol, the eldest, did just as expected: contacted the rest of you into a personal prison. Luckily, he was loaded. The prison happened to be six thousand square feet of space with countless rooms, amenities, and a housekeeper to boot. From the looks of it, it’s paradise, but it’s definitely a prison.

“Holy shit, you have an indoor basketball court?”

A prison with an indoor basketball court. And a pool apparently.

Seokmin wasted no time to enjoy these features, breaking out of his clothes and cannonballing in his underwear. If you knew any better, Seokmin didn’t even look like he went through any trauma at all. It looked like every other day for him.

“There's a murderer and you’re doing butterfly strokes?” You asked, baffled.

The golden man scoffed, reaching the edge of the pool and resting against it with his forearms. “What am I gonna do? Wallow, crying to my mom, worrying about dying, and not taking advantage of this gorgeous mansion we’re staying in?”

“Thank you, Seokmin,” Seungcheol grinned.

Seokmin winked back at him, “Of course, daddy.”

“How are you both so unserious about all this?”

Wonwoo left a kind hand against your shoulder, looking back at you with warm eyes and a small smile. “They’re grieving. Just in their own way.”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “They’re being ridiculous. We shouldn’t be here. We need to be at the police station or something.”

“You were there when I got the call. The creepy voice said no police or you all die. Remember?”

You shuddered, hands over your sides to relieve your chilled skin. “Of course I do, but we’re sitting ducks here. This isn’t any better. We need protection.”

It was Seungcheol’s turn to scoff then. He strutted in front of you, flaunting his wing span before flexing his arms and then crossing them over his chest. “Well, you have me.”

“And me,” Seokmin joined. “Pure muscle right here.”

“Maybe pure laughing gas, not sure about muscle. We’re actually living in a horror movie right now and you’re all making jokes.”

“Hey,” Wonwoo stroked your head as his soothingly deep voice serenaded you, “Don’t say that. We’ll make it out of here.”

His arms come around you, forearms pressed against your collarbones, and his chin crooked over your shoulder. “You have me too. I would run through that knife before it could get to you.”

You genuinely smile for the first time being there, your hand stroking over his embrace. Wonwoo delicately kissed the temple of your forehead, reminding you what it was like to be constantly adored.

You were grateful for what he had become in your life. Wonwoo had kept you company in your time of need. In the absence of Chan. He had come to your house with whatever he thought you might need, lent you his shoulder that you could cry on, lent his ears so that he could listen, lent his body that you could heal. In more ways than one.

“You’re right. You are.” You turned to face him, wrapping your arms around his body and meeting his eyes framed in specs of hard plastic. “You’re the first person I can sacrifice if we face them head to head.”

He mused at you. “Ooh, now look who’s pulling jokes.”

“Who said I was joking?”

“You two are disgustingly cute,” Minghao commented coming through the back door. “Horror movie rules: they get killed while having sex.”

You punched the new face right in the arm, watching him scurry away to your other friends laughing.

“Not funny, Hao.”

Minghao sneers at you, a jester smile still on his face. “Ease up, princess. Wonwoo, watch your girl.”

“Only because she’s so pretty to look at,” he briefly grinned down at you before directing his attention to Minghao sternly, “but come on. We’re all a little psyched right now. Cool it with the murder talk. Alright?”

Wonwoo pulled you aside into the dining area, ignoring the careless laughter outside. His thumb stroked against your knuckles, lips pressing sweetly against your cheeks. His grin sunk deeper in his cheeks the further he made it past your jaw and then down your neck. He felt your throat vibrate against his lips. “Wonwoo…”

“I can’t have all these guys get you heated like this. That’s my job,” he teased with a rasp.

You slightly pushed him off, your arms swung over his shoulders. “You’re so ridiculous right now.”

“Anything to put that smile on your face.”

His lips reconnected with your neck, nipping at your skin. His humming sent tingles down your spine, and he took your body to press you against the side of the counter. Your hands grasped his baggy shirt, lip close to his ear, fanning your breath against his face. You smiled like a girl in love. Obsessed.  “Daddy…”

“I love it when you call me that,” he mumbled, just as love-struck, if not more. Your giggles brought out the pink on Wonwoo’s ears and cheeks while tightening the groin of his pants. You noticed immediately, cupping it in your palm, and running your finger along the seam. Your eyes skimmed over his taken expression, leaning your full weight into him. “I know there’s something else you really love.”

“Do you now?”

You nodded, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. “But do you really want to do it here? Risk getting caught?”

He leaned into your touch, allowing your fingers to take apart his pants. “Try new things right? Like you always say. Plus you’re scared. Gonna turn that fear into pleasure. Make you feel good, just what my baby deserves.”

“You're so good to me, Daddy,” you moaned.

His hand finds the hem of your shorts, pulling them down to expose yourself to the cold air. He fingered through your panties and slid two digits through your folds. He felt your breath hitch as he squeezed your clit, eliciting your soft whines. “You’re so wet down there, baby.”

“Just waiting for daddy to fuck me where anyone can find us and watch.”

Wonwoo eagerly pulled down his pants, kicking them and yours aside, but not without pocketing your underwear. He lifted you up slightly from the ground, his exposed cock hitting at your hip. “Look what you do to me.”

Your throat went dry at the sight of him, hand aching to wrap your hand around his girth and have him shoved inside you.

He didn’t let you wait a second long, and pushed in slowly inch by inch, burying himself in your pussy until he was nearly balls deep. You grasped his shoulder in a gasp, savoring the fire burning in your stomach. The girth of his cock stretched your molten walls, allowing them to melt all around his cock as he spread your legs. You writhe in his embrace, your limbs closing around his lean and toned build, already blissful from the few seconds of him being inside you.

Wonwoo’s words kissed your lips, flushed your skin, and left a permanent smile on your face. It swelled pride in his chest, better than any physical trophy would have. His hips slowly rolled against yours, letting you adjust to his size. He massaged the flesh of your side through his fingers, mentally reassuring himself you were his and his alone, but his names on your lips became more than proof.

Your hips buckled towards him in heat, matching his pace before the carnal side of him decided to fuck you like an animal. His cock then plunged sharply inside you, and then again, a whimper coming out of your lips. Your hips stuttered the harder he pounded, arching your back, you felt his hand above your ass, pushing you against him.

“Daddy…”

He lost control when it came to you, addicted—religious—the second your body came in contact with his. He loved how your fingers ran through his hair, not caring how his glasses fell off his face in the process. With drool out of the corner of his lips, he could feel the blood rush up to the surface of your skin, making him feel warm at home inside you. Throbbing, he only got harder feeling how perfectly snug you were, pricking his clammy skin with goosebumps as he bottomed out.

“You’re sopping, precious,” he murmured with a sly grin.

He had you begging, flustered, and beautiful. Your hand clasped his face as your other arm looped around his neck, swallowing his lips, anxious and thirsty for his breath. You craved every part of him viscerally. “Cum in me, daddy. Please…”

He scoffed, lips ghosting over yours. “Will you take every bit of daddy’s cum, hmm? Hold my cum inside you.”

You nodded gingerly. “Yes, yes. I promise, daddy. Give it to me please, I want you to spill your cum inside me and make me yours…”

“Hold on to me.”

You obliged, met with the hot stream of his climax, yours quick to follow. He embraced your sides, devouring your lips and muffling your whines. His loads pumped into you in erratic thrusts, fucking his cum back into you and making sure you drained him of every ounce. His fingers dug into your flesh, feeling you just come apart for him, undoing the tension that festered earlier.

But that tension was needed. It was necessary to survive. Everyone let themselves forget the current predicament, basking in the glow of the sunset until dinner time arrived. Despite the housekeeper that supposedly exists, she hadn’t been around since all of you stepped foot in the house, like a ghost presence. Seungcheol scrambled to find her—reminding you of his peculiar obsession with the woman—as he wondered when dinner would be ready since a rise in temperature or a savory scent couldn’t be found in the kitchen.

“That’s strange. She’d be finished with a whole chicken by now,” the homeowner commented, noticeably picking his nails.

“Aww,” Seokmin groaned, “Well, is there anything else to eat?”

“I mean…you can look around.”

You narrowed your eyes at him in disbelief. “This is your house. You don’t know what you have in your own house?”

“You try navigating a five-story home with countless cabinets!”

“Buy a smaller house, you prick!”

“Guys!” Minghao chimed in. “Breathe in…and out. We’ll just find food. Seungcheol, your maid, your house, your search. She’s probably fine.”

Your hands slammed against those pristine marble counters. “We are NOT splitting up right now. This is what the killer wants. She’s probably already dead and we’re fucked.”

Wonwoo came to your side, laying a cool calm over your shoulder, and rubbed your sides. You let yourself melt in his touch, his sweet voice soothing you effectively. 

Seokmin sat up from his stool, “Okay, okay. I will help Seungcheol and you guys stick together.”

“That’s still splitting up!”

“Better than alone.” Seungcheol rebutted. “You guys stay.”

Despite your protests, they went on their search. Your head banged against Wonwoo’s chest, muttering in anguish about how everything was going wrong and that it’d only get worse. Meanwhile, Minghao seemed to regain some of that tension but masked the fear with the bright light of his phone, scrolling through TikTok. You didn’t know what was more annoying, sensation of imminent death possibly behind any door, or the same five songs replaying on Minghao’s feed.

After 15 minutes when they were nowhere to be seen, your patience had run thin. You picked yourself up from Wonwoo’s lap and dusted yourself off. “Fuck this. We’re finding them.”

You felt his hand on your shoulder, a concerned glow in his gaze. “Babe, hey. They’ve got it. Trust them.”

“Wonwoo, you know I can’t do that. Let’s just find them, hmm? Together?”

“Not a bad idea,” Minghao agreed. “Better in groups right? We go together, eliminate us as any potential suspects.”

Your boyfriend sighed, collected your hand, and laced his fingers through yours. “Fine.”

You were all joined together by the hip, making sure you were each other's sights. Through the wider than wingspan hallways, past the ridiculously expensive sculptures, you kept your eyes out for your estranged friends. Silence couldn’t have been more loud in these cavernous spaces, only hearing the gut feelings in your stomachs that’s churned in trepidation. Every step taken was the group closing in on the killer. 

Fortitude meant nothing if the danger was already inside.

Before turning around the corner, Minghao—reluctant to lead the group—crashed into a human-sized obstacle, causing the stumble of your entire party. You all faced a wide-eyed Seungcheol with the missing young housekeeper walking hand in hand with him. Suspicious, but besides the point.

“Holy shit, we said we’d come back!”

“It’s been 20 minutes, Cheol! You guys could’ve been dead for all we know.” You retorted.

“Wait, where’s Seokmin?” Wonwoo asked, noticing he didn’t see him nearby.

“He went ahead. He needed to piss or something and meet up later.”

“You idiot.” Your eyes burned a frustrated rage. “I said don't split up. DON’T SPLIT UP! That’s the number one rule of horror movies. You’re going get us fucking killed. He could be the murderer for all we know.”

Seungcheol scoffed, shaking his head. “Seokmin? No way. He’s the last person to even think to do that.”

“Well, do you see him? No! Probably he’s off someone being Ghostface reject with his stupid little voice modulator and cheap party city costume.”

“I told you—“ Before he could finish, his phone went off in the nick of time. When he pulled it out to saw Seokmin’s caller ID on display and the owner of the device wouldn’t help but smile. “See the bastard is even calling.”

He picked up and put him on speaker, eyeing you cheekily, amped to prove you wrong. “Seok, you little shit. How long does it take to piss, huh? Just say you wanted to take a dump.”

“Oh yeah, I took the shittiest, stinkiest, fattest dump. You could probably smell all the way from the other end of the hall.”

Instead of Seokmin on the other line, all of you were met with the eerie voice that had called you multiple times before. The voice that felt like spiders crawling up your legs. The voice that had you second guess whether you locked the front and the back door. The voice whose owner had killed countless people already. 

Seungcheol held the phone in a vice grip swallowing, fear stilling in his unsteady eyes. “You—Where the fuck is Seokmin, you son of a bitch?”

The morphed voice on the other end laughed, sounding bone chilling as nails against a blackboard. “What’s to say? Why don’t we play a little game to find out?”

“Mother fu—“You grabbed the phone from Seungcheol to answer in his place, cutting the older man off. “Why go through with this?”

“Why, I just want to help you find your beloved friend. All out of the kindness of my heart.”

“If it was all kindness, you could tell us where he is.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Psycho,” Minghao muttered under his breath, eyes wide in shock and fear, as if registering the idea of death for the first time.

“And if we refuse?” Wonwoo interjected.

“Seokmin dies, rock for brains,” Seungcheol gritted.

“Ding, ding, ding. Or should I say, chop, chop, chop, since that’s what'll happen if you get any of my questions wrong.”

You scoffed, coming down the stairs with your friends to follow. “Have at it then, you freak.”

“Hey, hey, play nice. Maybe I’ll get too excited and decide to cut him up early.”

Seungcheol glared at you briefly before taking back the phone, storming down the stairs, and reaching the ground floor. “Ask away, as long as Seokmin is safe.”

“First an easy one. What’s your favorite scary movie, Seungcheol?”

His feet stopped at the end of the couch in his living room, stammering to answer. “What kind of fucking question—uh, The Ring?”

“Don’t lie to your friends, Seungcheol. You know that’s not the answer, that’s just what you say to anyone that asks. Say the real answer.”

“That’s the movie though!” he started to shout, visibly shaking.

“Just say it, Cheol!” Minghao pushed.

“Stop playing around Choi Seungcheol! Just say it,” You joined.

“Fine!” He faced the friends, evidently swallowing his pride as he choked up on his answer. “I never watched a goddamn scary movie! Is that what you want to hear? I get panic attacks every time I hear one in the background, why do you I’m always going off smoking when you guys put one on,” he confessed through his tears.

“Congratulations. Your first right answer. Now was that so hard? Pussy boy?”

“Fuck you,” Seungcheol sputtered, tossing the phone back to you.

“Next question. ‘The Texas Chainsaw Massacre,’ Leatherface is known for wearing a mask when it was in fact several. How many and what were they in the original movie?”

“Who the fuck would know an answer like that?” Minghao croaked in disbelief.

“Three. A ‘Killing Mask’, an ‘Old Lady Mask’ and a ‘Pretty Woman Mask.’” Wonwoo calmly answers, garnering horrified looks all around. “I wanted to be a filmmaker, remember?”

“Correct. Next question. What Was Freddy Krueger's serial killer nickname before he died?”

“It’s on the tip of my tongue,” you said slightly panicked, “Wonwoo?”

“The Springwood slasher.”

“Wow, Another amazingly correct answer. Hold on to that one, Y/n. He’s a keeper. He’s smart and fucks your brains out to the point of you screaming bloody murder? What a catch.”

You didn’t respond, impatience seething on the tip of your tongue, “Just tell us where this is all going.”

“Patience, sweetheart. Last question. What exact kind of knife does Ghostface use in the Stab movies? Here’s a hint: it’s the same one I’m holding in my hand against Seokmin’s throat. (Help me please...)”

“S-Seok.” Seungcheol gasped.

Seokmin’s voice could barely be heard on the other end, weak and afraid, only staggering breaths audible.

“Wonwoo, please,” Seungcheol begged, tears falling past his neck. “He’s our best friend.”

Wonwoo swallowed, gears visibly creaking in his head, “I know he uses a hunting knife, b-but—“

“Oh…” the voice cooed, “Well, that’s just not enough, is it? Seokminnie, say goodbye to your friends (Please, no…).”

“Seokmin!”

“Wait!” You barged, clutching the phone to the point of it almost bending. “A modified Buck 120. I remember now. It’s coming back to me. Now, let Seokmin go!”

The line went dead and in turn, light cast in the evening darkness of the poolside. All your eyes shot back at the change of light, startled at the sight in front of them. Seokmin was seated in a chair, bruises against his sides, bleeding from the splices on his forearms, and duct tape over his mouth. Yet the most frightening part was his closed eyes.

“Seokmin!”

You all rushed towards him, swinging the porch door in a panic. Seungcheol tried slapping him awake, pleading he’d be alive. “Seokmin please, please, wake up…

The poor victim's eyes start to flicker open, mumbling through the adhesive over his lips.

“Buddy,” Seungcheol ripped the duct tape clean off him, his ear coming up to his friend’s lips. “Speak to me…”

Seokmin’s voice came out in croaks, hardly incoherently, all except, “Be…hind…”

Minghao spat up blood, doubled over as Ghostface was revealed right behind him, and fell right into the pool. You and the housekeeper both let out a blood-curdling scream. The masked intruder wiped off the blood using his black rope, anticipating a lunge towards their next victim. 

“Run,” Wonwoo breathed out. 

He took your hand and ran with it. Taking a second to look back, you see Seungcheol and the housekeeper try to escape similarly before she was tugged right back towards the killer and she was stabbed right in front of him five times, each one faster than the last, having the poor Seungcheol paralyzed and fallen on his knees. The sounds of suffering were loud enough to hear throughout the neighborhood.

Wonwoo dragged you back upstairs, his survival instinct telling him to seek haven high and far up the house. 

“You left them there to die,” You proclaimed.

“He said he could manage it. You’re more important.”

“You actually believe that? Ghostface snuck up on Minghao with neither of us looking!”

“We’re going to have to. Secungcheol can handle himself.”

Finally, he finds the room, closing the door behind him and pushing heavy furniture in front of it for more time to stall. “We’ll be ok for a little bit here. Let’s look for weapons.”

He started rummaging through drawers, looking for anything strap, blunt, heavy, anything worth using. He was red in the face, sweat drenching his entire body. The only thing running through his mind was keeping you, the most important person in his life, safe. 

“Wonwoo, I don’t know if we’re going to find anything. Fuck. I’m so scared right now.”

He recognized the panic in your eyes, the bounce in your step, and the quiver in your voice. “Hey, hey, baby. Look at me.” He grasped your face in his hands, wiping your tears away with his thumb. 

“I’m here, hmm.” He kissed your closed eyes. “You’re alright.”

Then your tempered cheeks. “We’ll get through this.”

The tip of your nose. “I love you like hell.” 

Finally your trembling lips. “I’ll keep you alive.”

“Promise?” You managed to breathe out.

“Scouts honor.”

The banging resonated from outside the locked door, only getting louder and closer every passing second as if teasing you to death. You shook in Wonwoo’s embrace, burying your face in his chest. “I don’t want to die here, baby.”

“You won’t. Not with me.” One arm wrapped around your body, and another had his fingers locked around the base of a lamp, tugging it from the outlet. Pitch darkness joined you, only having to rely on the dim-lit sky through the peek of the windows.

Whomever on the other side cracked through the wood of the door, breaking it piece by piece as it fell to the ground, knocking over the dresser that blocked 

“Shit, shit, shit.” Wonwoo pushed you behind him.

Finally, your barrier came down with a final kick, rendering it useless. Wonwoo let out a battle cry, charging at them with the lamp above his head. He swung his weapon while Ghostface swung theirs, both missing simultaneously. Gritting his teeth, Wonwoo pulled forward, aiming for the head.

They crash against the wall in the process, but not without mutilating the midsection of Wonwoo’s stomach. The visually impaired man fell back to the ground, groaning in agony as he clutched his stomach, while blood trickled through his fingers. “Mother fucker...”

Wonwoo’s vision started to fight against him with the loss of his glasses, dimming images before him, and slowly processing the murderous figure trodding before him. Wonwoo’s determination picked him right back up slowly, picking up his lamp once again, trying to take another move toward the perpetrator. And by pure luck, the lamp crashed against the crown of their head.

Ghostface stumbled back, quick to recover but visibly agitated.  Soon enough, they plunged the full length of the knife right into Wonwoo’s gut, sticking it deep and long before kicking him off of it. Wonwoo lands on the hardwood, blood gushing out of him like a public water fountain. “Fuck, fuck!”

“Wonwoo!” You come by his side, clutching at his wound desperately. “No, no, no.”

The sinister figure approached once more, hand creeping against the edge before he pulled it over and off his head. His eyes stared back at you both maniacally. His grin stretched from both ends freakishly before overtaking in deep chuckles. “Happy to see me?”

“…C-Chan?” Wonwoo managed to gasp.

“Hi, bestie.” His signature smile, once warm and inviting, reflected horrifyingly as if out of a film, one with too much bloodshed and betrayal to imagine. “Well, didn’t think you’d see me again, huh?”

“Chan, what the fuck?” You screeched. 

“You’re supposed to be dead.” Wonwoo voiced panic-stricken. “What, how?”

One foot over the other, Chan carried himself with conviction, ease, and the confidence of a man who slaughtered countless amounts of people. 

“You guys don't know how easy it is to fake my death. I was surprised by how incredibly stupid police officers are. Find a body that’s my height, my build, cut off their hands and arms to not get their fingerprints, singe their skin and face to the point of unrecognition, and plant them in your own home. I’m a fucking genius.”

“S-Seungkwan,” Wonwoo wept, his adam’s apple, “You actually—”

“It was beautiful. Masterful.”

“Why?” Wonwoo stammered. “Your best friend—“

“He was an imbecile. Weak. All bark and no bite. You will never understand how good it felt to stick the knife inside him and watch the blood burst off of him like a sprinkler. Like the knife going in and out of him surged power throughout my entire body. So, I kept doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. AND DOING IT.”

His smile. That violating smile.

You sobbed, covering Wonwoo’s wound with your hands. “Y-you monster.”

“This was all just fun for you?” Wonwoo bared his teeth. “You get your kicks from lying, deceiving, stabbing your friends? You think you’re some Billy Loomis?”

“Of course I have fun. I had lots of fun. We had so much fucking fun.”

“We?” Wonwoo repeated.

“What the fuck do you mean we?” You asked horrified.

Chan started to chuckle to himself, chest heaving exuberantly before he stood completely still. Dreadfully still. 

“Well, I'm not the one that killed Joshua, am I?”

A million guesses ran through Wonwoo’s brain. None made sense the more he thought about it. “Your Stu Macher? Seokmin…Seungcheol…?”

Your eyes turned to him fearful, before it melted into something else, something familiar. Something terrifying. “No…” your lips drew close to his ear. “Me…” 

Your hands squeezed around his wound, gripping, earning his moans of anguish, screaming at you to stop, before you retrieved the knife hidden behind your boot and drove it into his shoulder. Wonwoo let out the loudest scream he could ever muster, feeling the blade sharply cut his nerve whilst pain shot into his chest. He tapped his heel incessantly on the ground, tears streaming from his eyes, looking at you in disbelief, overcome with hurt.

“And he was a good fuck too until the knife I put through his back made him scream like a little bitch.”

You pulled out the knife from him, seeing how the pain he felt in his body only complimented the suffering pooling in his heart, his mind, his soul. His lips quivered in your direction, sucking in his breath. “Y/n…Why?”

You simply shrugged. “Why does anyone kill these days? They’re bored, daddy. Same reason why things can change in the bedroom, to spice things up. The flavor of life is murder now, darling.”

“You’re killing people.”

You drove the knife one more time into his thigh, savoring his scream of agony. “And we’re more alive than we ever have been,” you said, twisting the knife before pulling it out.

You walked toward Chan, helping him pull off his robe. “And so is our sex life.”

“So, Junhui, Soonyoung…Joshua, and even Seungkwan.” Wonwoo asked, catching his breath.

“Every. single. one,” You chuckled. “Draining their cum out of like having a second puberty until life is literally drained out of their bodies. What a bunch of pussy boys. So obsessed with sex, they didn’t see the knife coming their way.”

Your hand reached for the ottoman and pushed Chan there to be seated, underdressed in the black tank top and black jeans he hid underneath with his momentarily abandoned bloody knife at his side. You unbuckled his pants single-handedly, your knife still in your other hand. “And Chan just gets so fucking hard with all the bloodshed. Like a bloodthirsty animal.”

“You just look so fucking sexy with blood on your hands,” Chan moaned, “Touch me how I like it, baby.”

“Mmh, my pleasure.” Your hand used the blood covering it as a morbid form of lube, closing around the girth of his cock to squeeze and lightly stroking it from base to tip, softly thumbing over the small slit on top. 

His stomach flexed, bucking his hips in your direction as he bit down on his bottom lip, beaming like a child on Christmas. Horny for your touch, Chan couldn’t help but squirm in his seat, warning up to your touch. He was absolutely growing at a rapid pace. “Like that baby, like that.”

“That feel good, daddy? You like how the blood is covering your entire cock? Seokmin’s blood, Minghao’s blood, Seungcheol’s blood? Wonwoo’s blood?”

“Fuck. Yes.”

“You two,” Wonwoo’s shock couldn’t stagger from the scene in front of him, unable to process all this information at once.

“You’re massaging our friends into my cock so good, baby.”

“Yeah?” You traced your fingers over the details of his shaft, your nails prodding at the veins as your hand slowly picked up pace. You rolled him in your fist, letting him rut in your defiled hand as he moaned your name like an animal in heat. “I’m getting so wet watching fuck in my hand covered in blood. You’re just a sick lunatic obsessed with killing your friends and fucking my sweet pussy. I love that about you, Daddy.”

“Fuck,” he screamed, hands gripping the ottoman in restraint, brimming with passion, “Wanna mix Wonwoo’s cum you kept inside you with the blood. Sit that sweet pussy on my cock for me, lover.”

You nodded invitingly, not missing a beat. You never did replace the underwear from before, making it easy to remove your shorts and sliding him inside your warm walls, massaging his length as you rolled your hips against his. You held the knife you still had in a death grip, stabling against the reliability of Chan’s shoulders. You mumble his name pleased, arching your back as you grinded down on his lap. “Your cock feels so good covered in blood, daddy.” 

“Your pussy feels even better knowing how much fun you had stabbing Wonwoo for me.”

“Of course, daddy.” You turned to the body mutilated and defenseless on the ground, grinning as Wonwoo was forced to watch. “That look good, Daddy Wonwoo?” Your ass bounced purposely in Chan’s lap, the jiggle showing off the splatter of blood left from the handjob.

Everything in Wonwoo told him to look away but he couldn’t, like a train wreck or a car crash, he couldn’t part with the mess of a situation he was witnessing. He wasn't sure what this meant for him, mentally nor physically.

“You like watching Chan fuck me, Daddy? His bloody dirty cock fucking me like you did a hour ago, fucking me like a nasty little whore.”

He hissed through his teeth, right the strange feeling surging in his pain-stricken body, “Shut…the fuck up.”

You laughed obnoxiously. “You love it. You love being a little cuck, watching other guys fuck my pussy. As if you hadn’t peeped on me and Chan fucking when he wasn’t ‘dead’.”

“It’s not true, you bitch.” The twitch in his trousers told him otherwise.

“You’re such a liar a dirty, dirty liar like I’m a dirty, dirty fucking whore.” You groaned loudly taking Chan’s cock, bouncing against his lap as you felt him pulse around your walls.

“That’s right baby take my cock.” Chan’s hand came over your bare cheeks, striking them with his full palms while his hips jerked up your body. “Taking the murder fueled, hard fucking cock.”

“Daddy, your cock is making me so fucking wet, stretching my pussy the way you sliced open our friends,” You growled.

“Fuck you’re such a little succubus, baby. Bouncing on my cock, coating yourself in blood. And I’ll kill more and more for you. I’ll do anything for you.”

“Yeah,” You began slowing your pace, drinking in his every word. “You’d do anything for me?”

“I’d kill the entire human population for you.”

That left you smiling from ear to ear, the tension coiling in your stomach. Your chest pressed against his, pushing against his thrusts. “Yeah? Would you cum in me, Daddy? Mix our dirty mess inside me. Let me take your cum, daddy.”

“I’ll let you drain me of every drop, my little psychopath.”

“Cum daddy cum, make me full and breed me with our homicidal baby daddy. Make you a real daddy.”

Chan shuddered, overwhelmed with immense arousal. His hips found life of their own, hammering into you at top speed, and watching the pleasure morph on your face and the staccato rhythm of your breath leave your lips, all while the load threatened to burst out of his sack. “I’m cumming, baby, all for you, ah—“ then it exploded inside you. His cum launched out of his cock like a hose, he painted your wall in milky white, turning pink as it seeped out of you.

“I’m so close, daddy…”

Chan threw his head back to catch his breath, hands possessively finding purchases on your hips. “That’s it, baby. cum for daddy.”

“I’m cuming daddy, I’m—“ You gripped your knife, taking Chan’s abandoned one before plunging both in his head. His smile dropped, a small and weak, “baby” leaving his sweet lips before spitting up blood on your chest and he fell limp. 

You didn’t stop, however, given the fact that your orgasm had just arrived the mere second Chan tasted metal in his mouth. Your moans could’ve been mistaken for anguish if not for the smile on your savage face. “I’m cumming all over your cock, Daddy, fuck! You’re so good to me, you do so much for me. I love you so much. Hitting my spot even in death.”

The wave of climax finally started to fade, unlike your smile, wretched and demonic. “Thank you for your sacrifice, Daddy. I’ll miss you so much.” You kissed deceased Chan’s lips, coming down from him, and fixing his pants before fixing his pants before pulling your shorts back on your body.

“Y/n…what the fuck?”

Watching you pull the knives out of Chan’s head, Wonwoo's expression was a mix of confusion and horror, struggling to back away as you approached him calmly, almost serenely.

“Chan has served his purpose,” You answered plainly as if obvious. “It was his time.”

“You did that, all that, with him, and you MURDER HIM? Your partner in sick, sick psychotic crime?”

“I told you spice was necessary, plus I’ve grown rather fond of you.” You bent down to his level, eyes noticeably just a deep pit of disparity. “I couldn’t let him kill you, so I beat him to it. Good thing too, because that was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

Wonwoo whimpered under your touch—well, the knife’s touch—as the tip of it dragged over his jaw, drawing out a shudder. “Y-you’re letting me live?”

Your smile. That damned smile. You and Chan were mere reflections of each other. How had he not seen this sick image sooner?

“As long as it's with me, because you love me right? That’s what you said. You’ll always love me and keep me alive. You promised.”

You pressed the blade against his neck, “You’re cold-blooded. Fucking your dead friend’s girlfriend, leaving your other friends to die to save me, and taking on a mass murderer just for me.” Your other hand caressed over his face. “That’s hard fucking core, baby. I love that so much. You really love and want me. Well, I want you just as bad.”

“Like you wanted Chan?”

You scoffed, using the knife to point at the abandoned soulless body on the ground. “Chan was disposable. He was already fucked up in the brain. I can nurture you, let you prove you’re that you’re mine and only mine. Then I’d have no reason to kill you. Not at all…say you’ll be with me forever.”

“…yes, sweetie. O-of course I will.”

You sighed a breath of relief, your harmless hand coming over to stroke over the stray hairs on his head. “That’s my daddy. My one and only. We can be the finals. Together. Only us—”

“Hello! Wonwoo! Y/n!” Miraculously, Seungcheol found their way to you, barely alive it sounds like.

Rage filled your eyes. “Holy fuck how is he still alive,” you mumbled under your breath. “I’ll take care of him.”

You held the knife to your side, standing by the door and away from its open view. “Cheol! In here! We caught the killer!”

Seungcheol managed to find the defaced door, peeking through the rubble to see a disheveled Wonwoo, panting and close to death. “Wonwoo!”

“Cheol…” Wonwoo grunted. 

“Hang in there, buddy. I’ve got you.”

“To…your…right.”

You glared at Wonwoo, betrayal in your eyes before launching yourself at the hero, who hardly had a scratch on their body. Seungcheol, taking his friend's warning in consideration, built up a wall of defense. His eyes caught you just in time and held up your arms, pinning you against a wall. His eyes finally registered on your face, and his grip on you only tightened. “Y/n, you evil little bitch.”

You chuckled tauntingly, struggling against his weight and strength. “Hi, Cheol. I know you always wanted to stick something in me, mind letting me do it first?”

“You—wow, you’re actually mentally deranged.”

“You don’t like that? Maybe my knife through your skull can change your mind.”

He kicked you in the groin, having you plummet to your knees, cusses streaming out of you like a river. “You pussy. Ass. Bitch.”

“Seungcheol,” Wonwoo groaned, painfully cheering him on.

You managed to kick Seungcheol down in your distress, crawling on top of him to gain leverage. “I know you liked to be topped.”

You held the knife, hands wrapped tightly around the handle before striking. Meanwhile, Seungcheol’s hands were wrapped around your wrists, the tip of the knife tickling his nose. Sweat beaded against his forehead, struggling harder than he thought he would as you smiled still.

“This would be a lot sexier if you let me run my knife inside you, baby.”

“Fuck you and your demented punk ass,” he grunted.

“I would if you’d just FUCKING DIE!”

A gunshot follows soon after and the blood gushed from your neck, pouring from both ends and falling lifelessly against Seungcheol, who let out a shrill scream.

“I found a gun,” Seokmin proclaimed weakly from the door before fainting to the ground.

Seungcheol rolled your body off of him, sick to his stomach. “Sick crazy bitch.”

He looked towards his friend who remained helpless his entire journey before his eyes got caught on the dead body he only realized now. “Is that…”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo whispered.

“And they…”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, dude.”

Seungcheol went around to pick up Seokmin from the ground, grabbing the gun. Meanwhile, Wonwoo’s eyes lingered over your body, in disbelief it was alive a mere second ago, then he saw something strange, causing his eyes to fly open. “Cheol behind you!”

Another gunshot. Right between your eyes and your body that stood for hardly a second longer than it should’ve—of course with the knife still in your hand—fell right back on the ground.

“They always come back,” Wonwoo quoted.

Seungcheol let out a deep exhale, loosening his grip around the gun. “And aim for the head.”

“Sorry about your house.”

“…sorry about your girlfriend.”

“Me too.”

post reading a/n: always like me to insert chan into anything fr. i have no excuses

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @goblinvern @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @smileysuh (felt fucked up not to tag you bc you’re fucked it just like me 💕)

[booksooks]

hihiii what do u think tomura x civilian reader would look like 👀👀👀

𝑯𝑬 𝑳𝑰𝑲𝑬𝑺 𝒀𝑶𝑼

Author's Note: HELLo! ty for the ask, i hope this was what u were looking for!

Content: Like... one? Death threat. You'll be fine. Lots of dialogue.

Word Count: 1430

Summary: Shigaraki decides he likes you.

The first time you ever met Shigaraki Tomura was at your local bookstore slash game shop. You were, as per usual for this store, weighed down with an armful of books, and you were about to make your way around a shelf to head to the checkout, when you stopped, intending to look at an interesting looking book. Instead, your foot collided with someone else’s, and you watched in horror as the person attached to the foot lost their balance and fell back on their ass. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You cried, immediately plopping your stack of books on a nearby shelf. You picked up the person, no, the man’s game cartridge, and put that on another shelf before you reached out your hand to help him up. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was putting my feet.” 

The man only glared at your outstretched hand, a black medical mask covering the lower half of his face. It did nothing, however, to hide the downright murderous scowl that contorted his forehead. His eyes flicked up to yours, red and full of hate. 

“It’s fine,” he spat out, but you could tell he was not happy with you, or the situation. He completely ignored your hand and stood up by himself, brushing himself off and snatching the game cartridge from the shelf you had put it on. 

“Are you sure?” You asked, trying to catch his eyes again, but he stubbornly kept his face ducked, which caused his hair to blur any noticeable features. “I’m really so sorry.” 

“I said it’s fine.” 

You bit your lip, hesitant, before you blurted, “look, I know we’re not supposed to use our quirks in public, but if you’re hurt I can take care of it for you. It’s the least I can do.”

That gave the man pause. His scowl dropped, and although he still didn’t look at you, he wasn’t actively trying to run away from you. “You can?” 

“Yeah!” You chirped, a bit too loudly, and you winced. “I-I mean, yeah, I can. Where does it hurt, I’ll help.” 

You saw him swallow, reach a hand up to scratch at the base of his neck, and then he stopped. He held that hand out to you, shaking ever so slightly, and turned it palm up. His wrist had the ittiest, bittiest bit of rug burn on the inside, it was nothing really. It would heal by tomorrow. But you had told him that you could help, so you activated your quirk and raised two fingers to wave above the wound. You didn’t even touch him, but he still flinched back, as if you were burning him.

Something in the back of your mind snorted at the idea of calling the tiny patch of raw skin, barely red, a wound, but you were nothing if not someone who followed through. Either way, it was gone in a moment, fading to pink, and then his wrist looked like it had never been injured. 

“Better?” You asked, looking around to see if anyone had noticed. Unauthorized quirk use could get you in major trouble. 

The man made a face underneath the mask; the only reason you even noticed was because the mask itself wiggled slightly. “It itches,” he whined, using two fingers to scritch at the spot, 

“Yeah, that’ll go away in a sec.” You took a step back and grabbed your stack of books. “I’m really sorry again. Have a nice day!”

The only response you got was the feeling of his eyes trailing after you as you made your way to the front of the store. 

Over the next few months, you saw the man with red eyes again. And again. And again. And again. And one day, you figured he was trying to get your attention. You hadn’t known he was Shigaraki Tomura at first, not until your third or fourth encounter, when the features lined up just-so with the man you had seen on the news a few days earlier. 

Which spurred you on to do the stupidest thing you could possibly have, which was corner him. 

“Holy shit,” you hissed, shoving him into a back corner, behind several shelves and where no one ever really looked. “What the fuck, what the fuck, you’re that villain guy, Shigaraki Tomura, what the fuck! What the hell are you doing here?” 

Shigaraki, for the villain that he was, didn’t put up any fight as you practically bullied him backwards, his mask still over his nose and mouth. “Kind of surprised you didn’t recognize me earlier.” 

You furrowed your brows and looked at him incredulously. “You’re a little hard to recognize without that whole,” you paused, and made a general “covered” motion over your face, implying the hand that usually sat on his face. “You know?” 

Shigaraki shrugged. “The video games here are good.”

You dropped your hands and blinked at him. “This is… too weird. I should- I should be dead.” 

“I can still kill you if you want.” 

“N-No, it’s okay,” you insisted quickly, backing up. “I just… What? ”

“What ‘what’?”

You rubbed at your face. “I mean, what, why am I not dead, what, what do you mean the video games here are good, what on god’s green earth?” 

Shigaraki scratched at his neck, a habit you had noticed in a previous “innocent” meet up. “I mean I like the video games here. And you’re useful.” 

You nodded, pretending to understand. When it was clear that Shigaraki wasn’t going to elaborate, you shook your head in defeat. “How? ”

“Your quirk.” 

Oh. He had prodded you a bit more about it the second time you had met, and you had elaborated, thinking, ‘What the hell? What’s the worst that could happen?’ 

Well.  

“I see. Well um. Great meeting you, I guess.” 

“Wait.” Shigaraki shoved his hands in his pockets, awkward. You stopped backing away, knowing that your only chance of escape was dissolving like sugar in warm water. 

“Yes?”

“Join us,” Shigaraki said, looking directly at you. “We could use someone like you.”

You sighed and blinked at him, confused. “I-I have no reason to.” 

Shigaraki snorted and you were very suddenly reminded of the danger that was simply his hands. 

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” 

Shigaraki shook his head, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled beneath his mask. It wasn’t the most comforting look. “No.”

Which was how you found yourself joining the league. Actually, join was a strong word, it was more like you were on retainer when needed, or when not needed. It was really up to Shigaraki’s discretion. He popped in whenever someone was in need of healing, or when he was bored. Which, as the months passed, seemed to grow more and more often. 

And… well, you weren’t really afraid of him. Yeah, he threatened you often enough. But he never really seemed into it, nor did he ever follow through. So you entertained him, learned how to play his favorite video games with him, and even, on days when he was angry or frightened or just plain upset, he would let you read your favorite books to him. He would huff and pout, crossing his arms and kicking his feet up onto your coffee table, but he’d let you read without interrupting until you got to the end of the chapter, and then the flood of questions would pour out. 

He cared. You knew he cared, you could tell in the way he listened and took notes, remembering everything you said. He’d bitch about you bitching, but he wouldn’t let a problem linger around you for long, and you were never left wanting for anything for long. 

He never spoke up either, never admitted it was him leaving little gifts around your apartment for you to find. That was, unless, you went too long without mentioning it offhandedly. 

“How are you finding that new pan?” He would ask, not looking up from his Switch. 

“It’s fine,” you would reply, swallowing back any hint of a smile. “Food doesn’t stick to it like my old one.” 

“Good to hear.”

“Mmm.” 

And then you would move on. 

It was simple. It was quiet. Maybe society wouldn’t consider you a good person anymore, but you didn’t care. You lived a peaceful life, with people who relied on you, and made you feel needed. And the world’s scariest villain, Shigaraki Tomura, liked you. 

So yeah, you were doing pretty damn good, if you did say so yourself.

End Notes: i'm not sure how to feel about this one. anon, i hope you enjoy <3 feedback is always appreciated.

AO3 Link

ABSOLUTELY NO ONE HAS MY PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WORK TO ANY SITE.

[reidingandwriting]

darlin’ i’d wait for you > p.p.

Word Count: ~5,000

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Warnings: The author entirely makes up how the memory erasing spell would work, mild language throughout, mentions of an attempted mugging

Author’s Note: What watching NWH for the first time in two years does to a mf! Cross posted on my ao3 account. Peter deserves a happy ending and by god I’m giving him one!!

It was a cold night that night. Peter swung through the city, happy things were relatively calm tonight. though he wouldn’t mind a little more action so he could fight and warm up a little. He was about to turn in for the night, anyway, so Peter could cope.

It was on his swing back home that he saw it. Three bulking men cornering one person in an alley. Peter perched on the rooftop, assessing the scene before he jumped in. Two appeared to be unarmed, but Peter froze when he saw the gun the third pulled out. Peter quickly shot a web at the gun, yanking it out of his hands and up towards the roof before he dove in. One direct kick to the face had the first guy out cold.

Peter dodged the punch from one of the others and he narrowly missed another punch from the other. Peter landed a punch of his own to one of the men and webbed him to the wall before doing the same to the remaining guy. Peter webbed the guy who had the gun against the side of the dumpster in case he woke up, and then he turned to face you.

“Holy shit. Thank you so much, Spider-Man.” Peter froze when he heard your voice and he was grateful to the mask for hiding his expression. You. Tony's child, his former partner… all before Doctor Strange’s spell erased all memories of peter parker from the world. Realization flashed in your eyes and Peter felt his heart skip a beat from your smile. Did you remember? “Spidey! I haven't seen you in forever it feels like. It’s been ages, hasn’t it?”

Of course you didn’t remember him. You knew Spider-Man from him working with the Avengers, but you didn’t know him. Most of the time he spent with your family was as Peter. Spider-Man had been a rare visitor to the Stark family; what was the point of hiding behind the Spider-Man persona when you all knew him? Why hide from someone who had been to his and May’s home countless times? From the same someone who had spent hours in the lab with him making improvements to the spider suit.

“Yeah. Yeah, it has been, hasn’t it?” Peter rubbed the back of his neck and you still smiled that bright, warm smile. Peter's eyes began to burn with the feeling of unshed tears; god he had missed you so much. “I'm, uh, surprised you’re out here this late.”

“Wasn’t supposed to be. Happy was running a little late picking me up, and I thought it would be quicker for me to just walk over to his, but then that happened,” you laughed and Peter couldn’t help but smile as well.

“Do- do you want an escort? Or I could wait with you until you’re picked up. My patrol is over anyways, and I don’t. I don't have anywhere else to be.” Peter offered and you nodded.

“Let me just,” your phone ringing cut you off and you smiled apologetically at him. “One second, sorry.” You dug your phone out of your pocket and answered it, holding it to your ear. “Hey, Hap!” Peter could faintly make out happy on the other line and his heart ached. Happy… Peter tuned out the majority of your conversation, not wanting to eavesdrop and violate your privacy, even if he kind of wanted to just to hear Happy’s voice some more. You hung up the phone a moment later and Peter turned to look at you.

“What's the plan?”

“Since I'm not too far from Happy, I think I'll walk over to where he’s waiting. Are you sure you don’t mind walking with me? I'm sure you’re ready to get home by now.” Home. Peter wanted to laugh- home didn’t exist to him anymore. Not one he could have, anyways.

“Wouldn’t be very friendly neighborhood Spider-Man of me to let you walk by yourself, especially after you’ve already been cornered once. At gunpoint,” Peter emphasized and you merely shrugged.

“Unfortunately something I've gotten somewhat immune to. The panic will hit later,” Your tone was joking but Peter knew the weight behind your words. You were like your dad. So good at bottling up emotions and being able to put them to good use. Until the bottle eventually filled and you cracked. You had gotten better about bottling up and your emotions hit faster now- even if you did have delayed reactions to trauma at this point. “I guess we should start walking then, huh?”

Peter followed just a step behind you as you walked to Happy’s. You made small talk with Peter, asking him how patrols were going and how he had been lately. Peter brushed over that question and turned it back on you, and you happily obliged. You had just left your friend Betty’s since it was her birthday, and you were about to go back home to celebrate the holidays with Happy, your mom, and sister. Pepper and Morgan…

It had taken a few visits for Morgan to warm up to Peter, but she had quickly worked her way into his heart and she rather quickly learned that she had Peter (and most everyone who knew her) wrapped around her finger. He had countless movie nights with you and the younger Stark and Peter remembered the first time Morgan chose to cuddle into his side during the movie like it was yesterday.

“What about you, Spidey? Any plans for the holidays?” Your question startled Peter and he shook his head. “Nothing?”

“I.. I don't really have anyone to celebrate with. Will probably just stay in, watch some movies. Maybe do an extra long patrol, gotta make sure everyone else gets to be safe during the holidays.” There goes that look Peter missed- you were thinking about something; your brows furrowed just slightly and your nose scrunched in contemplation.

“Well, if you get lonely. You should reach out to me.” You dug in your bag for a moment before you pulled out a sticky note and pen. You wrote quickly before you handed the note to him- your number. Of course he had it already, had long since memorized it, but you didn’t know that. “No pressure or anything at all but. It can get lonely this time of year, and my dad always spoke highly of you. So if you ever just need someone to talk to or anything,” you sounded a little uncertain. Anxious, even. “I unfortunately adopted my dad’s horrible sleeping patterns so I should just be a text away.”

“Thank you. So much,” When Peter said your name, you blinked in surprise that quickly smoothed out. Right, Spider-Man knew your name, why wouldn��t he? A familiar voice snapped you and Peter back to reality and you waved excitedly.

“Did something happen? Why is Spider-Man walking with you?” You hesitated briefly and Peter stepped in.

“We ran into each other while I was swinging around. My patrol was ending anyways, and it wasn’t out of my way to walk with them.” Peter lied smoothly. It was completely out of his way and he didn’t want to mention the fact that you had almost been mugged, potentially worse. Selfishly, he wanted another chance to see you and he knew he wouldn’t get that opportunity if Happy knew what happened.

“He was great company,” you flashed Peter a grateful smile before you turned back to Happy.

“Thanks, Spider-Man. I've got it from here.” Happy looked at him and Peter nodded.

“I hope I'll hear from you, Spidey.” You said and Peter smiled. Peter said his goodbyes before he swung away, leaving you and Happy outside his apartment complex.

Peter barely locked his door and tore off his mask before tears filled his eyes. God he missed you. Missed Happy, Pepper, Morgan, all his friends. You may not remember him, but he hoped this could be the start of starting over with you. He had to have you in his life again, even if he was just a stranger to you right now.

-

Two weeks had passed since you had run into Spider-Man and you were feeling odd. You had trouble sleeping the night you got home and you assumed it was the stress from having the gun pulled out on you. Every night since then, you’ve had dreams that felt strangely like memories? A few of them included your friends MJ and Ned, but they all had some guy with a blurry face in them. His voice in the memories was a little distorted, but vaguely familiar at the same time.

You were doing some cleaning when you found an old sketchbook and you took a moment to go through a few of the pages, and you tilted your head when again, you saw the faceless guy from your dreams. How could you not remember him? You stopped when you saw a polaroid in the middle of your sketchbook, a picture of you and your father with the faceless guy in the middle. You slammed the book shut and tried to focus on controlling your breathing. You slid down against the wall, hands trembling.

Who was this person? How was he such a prominent part of your life but you couldn’t remember him? You buried your face in your hands and you barely processed the click of your door opening.

“Since MJ is coming over, what do you think about- kid?” Pepper's voice sounded through the room and you looked up. “Hey, what happened?” Pepper rushed over and took a seat beside you. Her hands cupped your face as her thumbs wiped away the tears you hadn’t even noticed beginning to fall.

“Do you ever feel like there’s something you’re just missing?” You nodded towards the sketchbook and Pepper cautiously grabbed it, and she flipped through the pages. She stopped when she saw the polaroid and looked at you. “I feel like I'm going crazy, Mom. I know who this is, I have to know. But I can't remember him. Ever since I ran into Spider-Man, I've been having these dreams. I think they’re memories and they all have him in them. I thought I was just making him up and then I saw this. I don't know what’s wrong with me, why can’t I remember him?”

“I don’t remember this either.” Pepper said and you looked at her, confused. “I remember taking this picture but him?” Pepper tapped the person in the middle. “Not a clue who he is. I can ask Happy if you want? Maybe he remembers?” You nodded before you curled into Pepper’s side. Your mom’s arms wrapped around you, and she leaned her head against yours. “We'll figure it out, somehow.”

You tried to have a normal rest of your night. You helped your mom cook dinner for everyone, you all played a game with Morgan before tucking her into bed with a bedtime story, and you, MJ, and your mom watched some mindless reality show before she went to bed. The night ended the same way, with her kissing your head and telling you not to stay up too late, and you stayed on the couch for a while longer before returning to your room. You and MJ laid on your bed and MJ let out a loud sigh.

“Okay, what’s up?” MJ asked and you turned towards her. “You’ve been acting off all night and you’re guarding your phone. I’m all for some quiet body doubling time, but you seem a little checked out.”

“It’s gonna sound crazy,” you said and MJ shrugged.

“I’m no stranger to crazy.” And so you told her. You told her how you ran into Spider-Man and how you have felt odd ever since. You told her about the weird dreams and how you feel like your memories are incomplete and you’re missing something. You showed her the sketchbook, the photo, and you took a deep breath.

“I reached out to Happy and he doesn’t remember him either, but he says he’ll try to look into things. I, uh, have my own plan if he’ll ever answer me.”

“Who?” MJ asked.

“Have you ever seen that… really strange building in the city?”

-

“Thanks for letting me in,” You said to Doctor Strange, Stephen he insisted, as you took a seat in his… was lair the right term? Office felt too informal but lair felt too menacing. Whatever.

“I must admit I was curious as to why you wanted to see me. I don’t think we’ve spoken since the funeral.” Stephen said and you nodded.

“Never had much of a reason to. We didn’t know each other before, and I was,” you trailed off, “occupied after. Between my sister and helping my mom with the company, and this new thing that’s occurred.” Stephen hummed in response and made a gesture for you to continue speaking. “I think some kind of magic has interfered with my life and altered my memories.” Stephen paused, genuinely looking like he was blue screening, and you began to speak again when he raised his hand.

“What exactly do you think has been altered?” Stephen asked, words coming out slowly, like he was still processing what he had heard.

“I think a person has been removed from my memories. Not just mine. Mine, my family’s, my friends. I have a feeling it’s bigger than that, and.” You trailed off.

“I would be the only one- well, not the only one capable- but I would be the only one to risk a spell of that caliber.” Your lips twitched upwards into a smirk and Stephen rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of amusement on his face as well. “Is it just your memories that have changed?” You shook your head and pulled the photo from your bag and you held it out to him. Stephen took it carefully, studying it.

“I have drawings of him, but the faces are all blank. I can see him in my dreams, I can hear his voice.” Your voice cracked. “I don’t even know who this is, but with each day that passes, the pain of losing whoever he is gets worse.” Stephen’s eyes met yours and you continued. “I can’t sleep without him being involved. I keep getting these deja vu moments but they’re incomplete. Hell, even my camera roll on my phone is messed up. Every picture or video he’s in? His face is blurry and his voice is distorted. Every night it gets worse. Like my brain wants me to remember, but I can’t.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You can’t cry in front of the wizard, that would be so embarrassing.

“Did something specific trigger this? When did you notice your memories had been affected?” Stephen asked and you sighed.

“After I ran into Spider-Man two weeks ago. I was walking to meet Happy, and some guys had cornered me. Spider-Man saved me and from that night on, I feel like my brain has been scrambled.” Stephen’s eyes widened a fraction. “You’re missing something too, aren’t you?” Your question came out more as a statement and Stephen stood. You quickly stood and when Stephen saw you stand, he walked out of the room and down the hall to another room. This room was darker, much more lair-ish, filled with books and other mystical looking items. Stephen’s strangely sentient cape fluttered over, whipping around you in some oddly cute form of greeting? before it flew over to Stephen and settled on his shoulders.

“I’m fuzzy on the details, but I remember seeing Spider-Man recently. We were fighting over some containment box that had a powerful spell in it. Then suddenly I was in the city, near the Statue of Liberty. Something big was happening and I performed some spell to help Spider-Man and I don’t remember anything after. Suddenly I was home and I guess I never looked further into it.” Stephen pulled a book from a shelf and flipped it open, rapidly scanning the pages until he landed on it. “This was the spell I had to contain.” As Stephen told you about the basics of the spell, your heart ached. What could have happened to Spider-Man that made him need a memory erasing spell?

“Then Spider-Man must have asked you to do another memory erasing spell. Hiding his identity?”

“More like erasing it. The universe as we knew it was breaking, the multiverse is real. And it almost became a real threat to our universe. Whatever I did fixed it. The multiverse is safe, but-”

“Now no one remembers who our hero really is,” you said. “I’m guessing there’s no way to counteract the spell.”

“No safe way to do it, even if we discovered who Spider-Man is. If it even could be reversed, the threat would return. These people were after Spider-Man, whoever he is. If the spell was reversed, those same people could very well slip through and become a problem all over again. Likely worse than before.”

“Shit. There’s no winning, is there? He just has to exist for the rest of his life, alone.”

“He may be alone, but it is odd that your memories are seemingly trying to come back. Has anyone else you’ve told experienced anything similar?” You shook your head. “He has you, then.” Stephen made eye contact with you. “Memory altering spells like this are unpredictable at best. For whatever reason, your brain is trying to make the connections. And from what I know about your family, if you are anything like your father, you are the best person to figure this out. I’m happy to assist however I can, but you, kid? You’re Spider-Man’s best chance at having anyone remember him again.”

-

It had been a few days since Peter had last contacted you. He didn’t text you often, scared to bother you. You always responded whenever he did reach out, but Peter hesitated when it came to you. Selfishly, he wanted to be in your life again. But he was terrified he would only hurt you again. That’s what he seemed best at and he couldn’t put you through that pain again. It’s been about three weeks since your first run-in and Peter hadn’t seen you in person again. He was starting to think it was a sign that he didn’t deserve to be in your life anymore.

It was raining as he came home from patrol that night. His apartment complex was in sight and he fumbled when he saw you outside of his building. Peter perched on a lamp post near you and called your name, and you jumped when you heard him.

“Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me!” You held a hand to your chest when you saw him, and Peter winced.

“Sorry, sorry! What are you doing out here?” Peter hopped down to stand in front of you. God, you were drenched. Your hair laid flat, soaked from the storm and Peter looked around. “Actually, let’s not have this conversation outside. You’re gonna get sick and your mom would kill me.” Peter opened an arm for you. “I need you to hold onto me.”

“Hold onto you?”

“I can’t exactly walk through the front door,” Peter gestured to himself.

“Right. Sorry.” You walked over to him and Peter wrapped an arm around you, lifting you just enough to support you before he shot a web towards his fire escape. You yelped as you clung to him and Peter carefully set you down once he was steady on the fire escape. Peter slid his window open and carefully helped you in before he climbed through, shutting the window behind him. Peter felt self conscious as you looked around the minimally decorated apartment. Peter didn’t have the money for anything beyond the essentials, and he knew his apartment looked more like a crash pad than a home.

“Do you have, like, towels or anything? I don’t want to,” you trailed off, and Peter sprung into action.

“Right! Sorry. Towels are in the bathroom. I’ll grab you one real quick.” Peter rushed to the bathroom and grabbed a towel. “Here, let me grab you something dry to change into.” Peter left the bathroom and walked towards his closet in the hall. He grabbed a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants and handed them to you. You thanked Peter before you disappeared into the bathroom and Peter looked around. He could, shit. He could at least get you a glass of water, right? Peter walked to the kitchen and grabbed two cups, filling them both with ice and water. God, why did he feel so sick? It was you. He knows you, he loves you. You had never judged him before, why would you now?

Peter had just set up the glasses when you came out of the bathroom. He swore his heart skipped a few beats when he saw you in his sweatshirt, and you played with the end of the sleeve.

“I, uh, left my clothes in your shower. Thanks for these,” you said and Peter nodded. God Peter was so glad he had tidied up this morning.

“No problem. It’s not much but make yourself at home. Should’ve dropped by tomorrow, tomorrow is grocery day and I could’ve had more for you,” Peter said and you shook your head as you sat on the edge of his bed. Peter stood by the other edge of the bed and you tilted your head.

“Keeping the suit on? Isn’t it a little wet?” Peter’s eyes widened and he rushed to his closet to change, and he barely heard your faint huff of laughter. Peter stared at himself in the mirror, mask still on his face after he had changed. He didn’t know what to do. Not like revealing his identity would change anything, but he felt safer behind the mask. With a sigh, he left the bathroom and your smile fell to a frown when you saw the mask. “Can we talk, Spidey?” Peter took a seat beside you and you both turned to face each other. Your gaze was determined, hopeful, and anxious all at the same time and Peter couldn’t tell if he wanted to look into your eyes forever or look away from the emotion in them.

“The floor is yours,” Peter said and you let out a breath.

“I may sound batshit insane, so please. Just listen to me until I’m done.” You said and Peter nodded. After a moment, you began to speak. “I know who you are.” Peter swore his heart stopped for a beat or two. “Or I did at least. You knew me, my family, my friends. Our friends, I guess I should say. But something happened and now no one knows you. Doctor Strange did some kind of spell for whatever saving the multiverse reason, and everyone forgot about you. The man behind Spider-Man.” Your eyes began to water and Peter wanted to reach out, to hold you close. But he was frozen.

“Ever since we ran into each other those weeks ago, I’ve been having these dreams. Memories, more like, but there was something missing in them. You. I could see the memories, I could hear your voice and see you. But I couldn’t remember who the voice belonged to. I couldn’t see the face, it was all blurry and distorted. I have a picture of us with my dad, I have countless videos and pictures in my camera roll; all of them having a person with a blurry face and distorted voice. For three weeks, you’ve been on my mind, awake or not. I’ve spent the last five days trying to find you, trying to figure out anything about you. Every file I found, redacted. Eventually, I just tracked your usual patrol route and your response time to local crimes and hoped I would stumble across you. I’d been walking around for at least two hours to find you, because somehow. I just know you’re the person I’m missing.” Your hands reached out and settled on Peter’s shoulders, and it took all of Peter’s restraint not to melt into your touch as he whispered your name. “Can I…?” You tapped the side of Peter’s neck and he nodded.

You moved slowly, as if you’d hurt him, as your hands traveled. You stuck your thumbs under the mask and you looked at Peter. Only when he nodded did you start to pull the mask off. The seconds it took you to pull the mask off felt like hours to Peter, and you let the mask fall beside you as you studied Peter. You reached out towards him, motions careful as you moved, and you rested one of your hands on his cheek. Peter felt the first tear slip and then you blinked.

It was like Peter was seeing an entirely new person again. Your eyes flashed with a million different emotions until they settled on recognition. Your eyes were wide and your own eyes began to fill up with tears.

“Peter?” You whispered and the dam broke. Peter let out a choked sob as he nodded and you threw yourself into his arms, clinging to him just as quickly as he clung to you. “Oh my god, Peter.” One of your hands tangled in his hair, the other hand gripped the material of his shirt like a vice. You moved back just enough to look at him, and Peter let out a teary laugh as his forehead rested against your own.

“I missed you so much.” Tears were falling from Peter’s cheeks and you somehow did the impossible by pulling Peter even closer to you. “How, how do you?”

“I don’t know,” You laughed in between your cries. “I don’t know how but oh my god, Peter.” You pulled back, his brown eyes meeting your own, and you smiled at him. So happy, so familiar, so full of love. Peter cupped your cheeks and pressed a kiss to your lips, which you happily returned.

You remembered him. Peter wasn’t entirely alone anymore. He had you. The love of his life, one of his best friends. When you broke apart, you cupped Peter’s face in your hands and wiped his tears away with your thumbs. “I thought I’d be alone forever. That no one would ever remember me. And I couldn’t, I couldn’t make myself talk to anyone new because all I do is get people hurt and-”

“Shhh, that’s not true. Not true at all.” You raked your fingers through his hair and Peter slumped into you. “I told you, you’d have me forever. Just took a little while for me to find you again.” You kissed Peter’s head and ran one hand up and down his back, the other gently working out the tangles in his hair. Peter’s breathing began to steady and he closed his eyes. For the first time in what felt like ages, he was content.

“What’s gonna happen now?” Peter asked and you hummed.

“First, you’re gonna rest. Your dark circles could rival my own,” you teased and Peter huffed in response, but a smile still lit up his face. “I told my mom I would be out tonight, so tomorrow morning, we’ll decide what our next steps are. I know there’s a few people who would like to meet you again, but if you’re not ready, we’ll wait.”

“I want to see them again. I’ve missed everyone so much, but I don’t know if I’m ready.” Peter trailed off. “I’m really scared.” Peter admitted. “I’m scared when I see them again, they won’t want to get to know me again. I’m scared I’ll wake up and this will all be a fluke; you’ll have forgotten me and I’ll be alone all over again.” Peter’s grip on you tightened and you continued to comb through his hair, hoping to soothe him.

“They’re your best friends, Peter. They’ll love you.” Peter was fully laying against you at this point, and you shifted so you could lean back as well. “I know my mom will too, and Morgan will be so happy to have a big brother again. But you’re in control, okay? You get to choose when we meet, who we meet.” Peter let out a shaky breath as he buried his face in your neck, and you closed your eyes. “Just say the word and I’ll make it happen.”

“I love you.” Peter pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. “So much.”

“I love you even more.” And for the first time in weeks, you both fell into a dreamless sleep. The next afternoon, you and Peter stood outside your family's cabin. Your hand held Peter's and he squeezed your hand.

You had told your mom you were bringing company over, but you had been vague about the details. Kind of hard to explain everything over a phone call, you rationalized to Peter. You had Peter's bag on your back, with enough clothes to last him a few days, and his suit just in case. Neither of you seemed fond of the idea of separating now that you finally had each other again and if your mom didn't understand, you were willing to stay with Peter at a hotel because 'I love you, Peter, but this apartment is not it. Maybe I can buy you out of your lease,' you had said with a laugh but you were half joking. Whatever your next move ended up being, you'd do it together.

With one final nod, you walked inside with Peter, ready to re-introduce him to your family; ready for him to be a part of your family again.

[sh4wty18]

hi! can you write a Johnnie x fem reader fluff where they get high and confess feelings?

confession.

pairing: johnnie guilbert x reader

summary: same as request.

cw: fluff, mentions of smoking 🍃 & getting high, language

word count: 1.2k + barely edited tbh

---

The low orange glow from the burning end of the joint flickers as Johnnie inhales. You were sitting on the floor in front of your open window, sharing a joint. He didn’t smoke often, but when he did it was usually only with you, Jake, or Carrington. You knew he often felt paranoid while high, so you never pressured him to join your late night smoke sessions, but you were always sure to offer. He usually accepted, just to spend time with you. 

He passes the joint back to you and you take another hit, your eyes lingering on him as he exhales the smoke out your bedroom window. His head rolls back and you admire his neck tattoos, wondering what he’d do if you leaned in and kissed them. 

Tara’s always said his feelings for you were evident from the first night you met him, six months ago. You had been visiting Tara (one of your high school best friends) for a long weekend, and it was that weekend when you met Jake and Johnnie for the first time. Of course you knew who they were, Tara talked about them all the time, and you’d seen the three of them interacting in Tara’s youtube videos. When Tara asked if you wanted to move in with her a couple months ago, you happily agreed. It was only after you’d moved in that Tara had told you about how Johnnie couldn’t stop talking about you. He brought you up in conversation often, since your first visit, wanting to know when you’d be back in town. When he’d found out you were moving to LA, he tried to mask his excitement, but Tara could see right through him.

He brought you flowers when you moved in, with a note in his swirly cursive handwriting that read “I’m glad you’re here” with his phone number. Since then you’d been hanging out often. You must’ve been better at hiding your feelings than Johnnie, because you’d felt the same way about him, only Tara had never brought it up. 

“What?” Johnnie asks, smiling at you, a hazy look in his droopy eyes. 

“Nothing… you’re just pretty.” You say, smiling, taking yet another hit from the joint before passing it back to him. 

He smiles softly and says, “One more and then I’m done,” before taking a long hit and letting out a loud, obnoxious cough. “Holy shit! Oh fuck! That was stupid, why did I do that??” 

You giggle, the wave of calm fully settling over you, “You okay, pretty boy?” You ask, which only causes Johnnie to cough harder, caught off guard at the nickname. 

What was coming over you? You’d gotten high with Johnnie before, but this time you felt a sense of confidence you weren’t used to. Maybe it was Tara’s words ringing out in your mind— He likes you, y/n, it’s so obvious. But he’ll never tell you. Johnnie’s not the kind of guy to open up to a pretty girl— but for some reason you just wanted to tell him everything you’d ever felt for him. 

“You’re staring again,” Johnnie says, after his coughing fit finally ended, “do I have something on my face or what?” 

You giggle again, “No! I just like your tattoos. You’re so cool.” 

He smiles, and his cheeks turn a rosy pink, “Oh yeah? Which ones are your favorite?” 

You scoot closer to him and bring a hand to his chin, tilting his head toward the window, “I love these,” you say, tracing a finger over his moon and bat tattoos on his face, “they bring more attention to your eyes, and your eyes are gorgeous.” 

He swallows hard as you lean in closer to him, your lips only inches away from his. You tilt his head back a bit and run your finger lazily down his neck, “And I love these. They’re just…” you trail off, and suddenly you make a decision without thinking. Before you know it you’re leaning in, kissing his spider tattoo and dragging your lips up closer to meet his jawline. He gasps and you pull away, mentally cursing yourself for doing something so reckless. 

“You… you’re kissing me.” Johnnie states, “You kissed me. Why did you do that?” 

“I don’t know! I-” you shake your head. “No. I do know. I… I like you, Johnnie.” You cringe at the childishness of it all. “Jesus, I sound like a five year old.” You turn away, all of your newfound confidence suddenly dissipating when you see Johnnie’s confused face staring back at you. Embarrassment takes over and you hide your face in your hands, which is arguably more childish than the confession itself, but you weren’t thinking clearly in your current state. 

The corners of his mouth upturn at your words and clear embarrassment, “Hey, look at me,” you look up he rests a hand on your cheek. “I like you too.” He cringes, but then lets out a giggle, “Oh God, we really do sound like children.”

Your laughing slowly stops and you take in the sight of each other. Truly looking at each other, indulging in every tiny detail of each others’ faces. 

He pushes a strand of hair behind your ear, the old movie cliche, before leaning in to kiss you. You kiss him back, scooting forward to straddle his lap where he sits. He wraps his arms around your back, pulling you into a sweet embrace. You drape your arms over his shoulders and bury your face in his neck, kissing him again. He laughs and you break away, giving him a mischievous smile, “What?” You ask him.

“I just… can’t believe this is finally happening, and the only reason we even had the balls to say anything is ‘cause were high.” He lets out another embarrassed giggle.

You smirk and kiss his cheek, “Are you saying you’ve had a crush on me all along, Guilbert?” 

“Maybe,” he blushes. 

“I’ll tell you a secret,” you whisper, leaning in close so your lips brush against his ear, “So have I.” 

You smile at him, and one of his hands moves from your back to your neck, pulling you down to kiss him again. Just as you slip your tongue into his mouth your bedroom door flings open, and Tara comes barging in.

“OMG, you’ll never guess who I saw at—”

“Shit! Tara!!” You scream, flinging yourself off Johnnie’s lap, but it’s too late, she’s seen it all. 

“Fucking finally!! I was getting tired of the constant yearning.” 

“You knew??” You ask, completely in shock that she had any idea of your feelings for him. 

“Duh. You’re not good at hiding your feelings. Neither of you are.” She giggles and backs out of your bedroom, closing the door with a quick “Goodnight.” 

You and Johnnie turn to each other, both your jaws hanging open. Then Johnnie bursts out laughing, and you can't help but do the same. His laugh is contagious. You climb back into his lap and replace your hands around his neck. He grips your lower back as your laughs simmer out. 

“Where were we?” You ask. 

“I think I remember,” Johnnie quips, and leans in to press his lips to yours once more.

---

sorry this took forever. i hope u liked it :)

[papil0nglegs]

Sweet n’ Sour 👛 (pt.2)

Tf2 x “nice”Reader

A/n: Here’s pt.1 if you don’t know what this fic is abt, ik I said I was going to do my own fic after the last one I made but I couldn’t think of anything sooo I’m just doing this. I might do a ‘tf2 x Snooki!Reader’ cuz I just started watching jersey shore and I love it (also you could tell I put my whole heart and ass into snipers section)

warnings: Slut shaming, Reader and Sniper banging, enemies to lovers, hatefuck (sorry this one’s wild)

Pyro

Pyro quickly took a liking to you because of your girly nature, he loved your style

He’s only ever been on your good side, painting nails reading magazines gossiping etc.

He’s such a girls man. No, not a ladies man, a girls man

“Holy fuck! Snooki got arrested”

“Mm mffmm mmm?”

*from jersey shore??

“Yes from jersey shore!!”

Of course you two are duos on the battlefield, skipping happily around the blu teams base as it burns down

Def owns one of those heart friendship necklaces

About him being a girls man, he always makes sure you look good on the battlefield

Loves picking out outfits with you and always carries around something he knows you’ll forget

“Shit! I forgot to put on lipgloss..”

“Mmm mmphm mm?”

*here, cherry bomb right?

“gasp Omg I love you so much 💕”

You and Pyro would have the loving best friend relationship, kissing each others cheek and shit

Doing makeup on mask>>>>

Imagine the fake lashes along w the blush 😭 he loves it

lol put big anime girl eyes on him pls

“You’re fucking chewing right now P.”

“mmm mm!!!”

*thank you!!

Sniper

He hated you when he first saw you omg. Sniper is introverted cuz he got bullied and school, so now he automatically thinks any girl with even a slightly feminine style is bitchy

To be fair you were.. to him

Srry but he got annoyed with you so fast, it started a hefty rivalry between you and snipes

“Where’s princess prissy?”

“Uhm I know you’re not talking about me, at least I actually go down there to fight unlike you in the sidelines.”

It’s always something with you guys istg

He has to admit (but won’t) , he loves watching you destroy the enemy team the way you do from afar. Blood and guts getting in your hair and pretty face. Whenever you catch him staring at you you always give him the finger, makes him chuckle despite how much he ‘hates’ you

Sometimes he has to leave more than piss in his jars

He still kept the enemy streak but it was just to hide his feelings

The mercs get so sick of your guys’s attitude, they practically begged Miss Pauling to send you and sniper off to a mission so they can get a break. She obliged

“Yeah I’m not working with him, sorry! I’d rather go back to juvie than go sleep in his musty van.”

“Bonzy, wouldn’t want to smell your bloody strong perfume all over me van ya whore.”

“I’d rather smell like strong perfume than someone who hangs around piss jars and has coffee breath!!”

Miss Pauling immediately understood why the mercs wanted you guys to go away. And so she forced you to stay in his ‘musty van’ for a week so that you both can go assassinate god knows who. Safe to say it wasn’t an easy trip.

“Ay, I’m gonna go hunt for dinner, you comin’?

“Why the fuck would I wanna go with you?? Bye.”

damn, you didn’t have to end him like that 😭

You felt something when this bitch came back with a 14ft alligator, dragging it by the tail back to the van. You bit your lip staring at him as he wiped the sweat from his forehead

You asked him to hook up, you tried to be subtle but it just turned out uneasy to say the least

“Hey I liked the way you um.. dragged that crocodile back there”

“Chuckle it was a alligator, Sheila”

“Of course you know the difference..”

You blushed, along with him, laughing awkwardly, biting your pink painted thumbnail while he scratched the back of his neck

Cut to you guys waking up naked in his bed all sweaty

Hate fucking or not, now instead of the mercs being annoyed of you hating each other too much, they hate how much you love each other

“Cmon guys not in the goddamn break room..”

“Sorry, I just love his black coffee breath”

“And I love the smell of the perfume I got ya”

“God I fucking hate it when you use Australian slang..”

You still did your thing in the break room

Spy

He has so much hate in his heart for you, and it shows

The difference between him and sniper is that he doesn’t like ANYTHING about you, especially the way you fight

Sure it surprised him when you showed off how you fought, but he didn’t take a liking to it

While trying to sneak up on an enemy sniper, you immediately bashed their head in with your pink hammer. He glared at you so hard

“😐”

“What shitface?? Say something. I got impatient you were taking too long.”

This guy wants nothing to do with you, if you get assigned to a mission together he’ll have his way to sneak out of it.

In the expiration date short you wrote

Fuck you <3

On the paper he handed to everyone along with a drawing of a middle finger for the bucket thing he did

How did he know it was you? You made the hand look exactly like yours, acrylic nails and all.

You and scout started giggling like school girls

“..would anyone else like to insult me??”

soldier slowly raising his hand

Posting on your story in the middle of a battle is such a good way to mess with him, just doing the peace sign while he stays frustrated in the background

‘This old fuck really expects me to kill this big bitch alone 😹😹 Lol he fucking wishes, anyways I’m prob gonna get in trouble bcuz of this but IDRC 💜 #ellieandmasonhouse’

He wants to kill you so bad, sadly you’re one of the most useful mercs on the team. But if you weren’t he’d be so down to kill you

[vveissesfleisch]

hello my friend. for the ask meme:

🌩️

hi friend! thank you for the ask!

🌩️ Share something funny/cracky from your WIP.

from the sequel to this fic, in which john returns to thorpe abbotts after his stint as a pow & gale confesses his feelings for him, have some bad timing featuring rosie & croz (my beloveds):

“Can you…” He swallowed thickly. He felt like he was soaring above the world in a faulty parachute.  “Can you say that again.” Gale’s big, blue eyes widened, then softened. He glanced down at the hand covering his mouth.  Right. John released him, and Gale caught his wrist. The blush on his cheeks deepened. He pressed the heel of John’s hand to his lips.   John let out a whoosh of breath. Was this really happening? “Please say it again,” he said, voice barely a whisper.  A sudden burst of laughter and clinking of bottles had Gale dropping John’s hand like lit kindling. John took a large step back as Rosie and Croz rounded the bend, Rosie howling with laughter, Croz with a cigarette dangling precariously from his lips, fumbling in his jacket for a lighter.  “Hey!” cried Croz. “It’s the Buckies!”  The cigarette fell. He cursed and bent to pick it up as Rosie echoed, “The Buckies!” “Gentlemen.” Gale shook his head fondly, masking his fluster.   “You’re enjoying yourselves, I see,” said John, the imprint of Gale’s lips lingering on his skin like the sweetest brand.  Rosie grinned. “Someone has to!”  “Hey Bucky.” Croz lurched over to John, still patting himself down. “You gotta light?” “Sure thing, Croz.”  John produced his lighter. He very much wanted a cigarette of his own, but didn’t want to invite a lingering interaction – he loved Croz and Rosie, but he needed them to fuck off immediately.   That didn’t happen. John lit himself a cigarette and watched the cherry burn like his insides as he shot the shit, wanting nothing more than to reach for Gale, for reassurance that what had just happened had truly just happened and wasn’t a figment of his malnourished, exhausted, slightly intoxicated imagination.   “Rosie, you need another beer,” said Croz, finally stubbing out his smoke. He pointed a finger vaguely between John and Gale. “Majors, can I refresh the both of you?” “That’s a mighty kind offer, but don’t put yourself out,” said John. “We’re right behind you.” Croz shrugged and, thank God and all that is holy, they stumbled away without further fanfare, Rosie’s arm slung around Croz’s shoulders. John turned to Gale. “I gotta say, that timing was –” Gale yanked John down by the tie and kissed him on the mouth, killing his half-assed quip instantly. He held his hat in front of their faces, shielding them from lights or onlookers, and plunged his tongue between John’s lips, greedy and desperate.

[midwesternwitchery]

Die Sonne - Part 3

a/n- I'm not entirely satisfied with how this came out but I know if I keep poking at it, it will only get worse soooooo here we go! If you have requests or ideas on where to take this story comment/ask/message me! I'm always down to hear yall's thoughts! 1.7k

Holy shit. Hes fucking massive. She thought as she stared at him. Apex Alpha was right the man was a fucking giant. He sat strapped to a chair in front of her. Big black boots led up to thick legs easily that were the size of her waist, he could snap her in half if he wanted and there would be nothing or no one who could stop him. She continued her perusal of him, noting a wide chest attached to powerful shoulders. He wore a hood over his head, even if he hadn’t been blindfolded she wouldn’t have been able to make out any identifiable features to his face. Probably to do with his military status- she assumed.

She frowned- Why did he look like he was hunching his shoulders inward? Was he trying to make himself- smaller? for her?

Her omega preened at that, she had to get that in check. It would do her no good to let her omega run the show. Tara said to trust her omega but that didn’t mean she had to give in to all of her impulses. Neither of them had moved as she looked him over. She had frozen in place just inside the door. Curious to see what he would do she waited for him to make the first move.

His voice was soft yet thickly accented as he said, “Hallo” with a slight wave of his bound hand. He seemed nervous, yet he smelled divine. The sample they had her sniff was nothing compared to having him right in front of her, even with the several feet of distance between them. Belatedly she realized she hadn’t responded as he shifted in his seat.

“Oh, um h-hi.” was all she managed to get out. Clearing her throat she tried again. “I’m Mina, there wasn’t much in your application that wasn’t blacked out and they didn’t tell me your name…” She trailed off hoping he would fill in some of the blanks she couldn’t seem to get out of Tara or Elias. She had tried questioning them while she waited to no avail. 

“König.” he said. When she raised a brow at him questioningly he rushed out- “My name, its König. Würdest du näher kommen?” He slipped into his native tongue without realizing it, she smiled at him. He was nervous, so nervous that he couldn’t keep his languages straight. 

“I um.. was that German?” she asked. His fists clenched over the arms of the chair and he let out a string of German under his breath (likely cursing his own stupidity) when he realized what he’d done. “Apologies, Mina. Would you come closer? Please?” 

She thought for a moment and decided there wasn’t any harm in coming a little closer. It most certainly had nothing to do with the fact that if she was closer she could smell him more. Nope. Definitely not. 

She stepped forward, closing some of the distance between them. Looking around she noticed this conference room was different than the last one she was in. There was the same table set up but one side of the room had plush sofas with throw blankets and pillows in baskets on the floor. She stopped at the edge of the platform, a mere foot of space between them. 

He was much bigger than she initially thought. She was barely eye level with him sitting in front of her. He inhaled deeply, letting loose a low rumble in his chest as he leaned into her space. Closing her eyes, tiny pinpricks of awareness came to life across her body. She sucked in a breath, inhaling his scent. He smelled like a warm campfire in winter, comforting while burning with its intensity. Her omega was pushing her to lean into him, to craw up in his lap and never leave.

That got her attention, she had closed her eyes at some point. Snapping them open she realized she had been leaning into his space, her lips just a breath away from his behind the mask. Despite her realization she froze, hoping he hadn’t realized how close she was she slowly leaned back. His head jerked in response, senses zeroing in on her, then quickly leaning back to give her some space. 

“Apologies…I-forgot myself for a moment.” His body was tense, voice strained as he spoke. “I do not wish to frighten you maus.” 

“You don’t. I mean not the way you think at least.” 

His posture slackened a bit at that, tilting his head slightly as if hes thinking intently.

“You are not what I expected, kleine maus.” there was a smile to his voice and she wondered if she would ever get to see it.

Straightening her shoulders she was determined to get this back on track. She had questions and needed answers. “I’d like to ask you a few questions if that’s okay?” God why was her voice so soft and timid. What the hell was wrong with her?! 

He nodded his acceptance.

‘Why are you here?’

‘To find my mate.- she took note he said his mate not a mate. Maybe there was hope.’

‘Your mate?’ 

‘Yes maus. My mate.’

‘You’re military. Does that mean you will be away a lot?’

‘I have time off for the next 6 months to find a mate. After that it depends. There will be times I’ll have to be away but if I am so lucky as to be accepted- they would be less frequent.’ before she could continue he asked- ‘Are you lonely Kleine Maus?’

Was she lonely? There was no simple answer to that. On one hand yes she was incredibly lonely. She was one of the only omegas in her family and they treated her much differently than that of her siblings. On the other hand she enjoyed her freedom away from the demands of others. She didn’t want to end up with someone who wanted to control her every move. 

Yet this alpha, he had shown her nothing but kindness, taking care to not show off his size against her, as most alphas tend to do. 

‘Yes.’

‘You don’t have to be.’

She could melt right there, a puddle at his feet. 

Before she could think better of it she stepped closer, standing in between his legs. His head shot up following her movements. 

‘Maus?’ His voice was cautious, uncertain.

‘Can I-’ He cut her off- ‘Anything maus. I am at your mercy.’

Oh he was good. Letting her be in control, knowing she likely had never been in control of her life, not truly.

She reached out, sliding her arms around his neck, she leaned down until her head was tucked into the base of his throat, hugging him. 

‘Will you be good to me?’ 

‘Always kleine maus’

She was about to ask what that meant when a knock sounded at the door startling her and making him growl low in his chest. Mina looked up at him, “I should probably go speak with them.” His whole body tensed, fists clenching and UN-clenching as she released him. 

Leaving him with a soft ‘Goodbye König.’ she slipped into the hall.

She turned to Tara as they walked down the hall and said, “Its him. I’d like to set it up with him.” Tara stopped walking and studied her for a long moment before asking, “You’re sure? An apex like him will not allow you to back out and leave. Its in his nature, apex alphas mate for life regardless-” 

Mina cut her off, snapping at her, “Yes I know” She sighed, attempting to soften her tone, “Just set it up please. I know what I’m doing.” 

Tara let out a huff, clearly thinking Mina was in over her head. “Alright lets set up the paperwork.” 

***

Three days. She signed the contract that day and conveniently enough there was a clause giving her three days to get her affairs in order before she would be moved into his home. Every time her thoughts went to him she swiftly pushed him from her mind. She had other things to think about right now. Most of which revolve around telling her family.

They were good people but thought they should dictate her life simply because she’s the only daughter and omega of her family. Knowing they would never approve of König she was conflicted. The damage was done, the contract had been signed but she was hesitant to say anything for fear of how they would react. Would her father try to overturn the contact? Would her brothers try to use force? Both are possibilities she would like to avoid. 

So she did the only thing she could do. She called her mother, and lied.

“Mama, I found an alpha. I’ll be moving to his home tomorrow morning.” 

For a moment all that could be heard on the other side of the line was unintelligible squeals of delight. She knew her mother would be happy but nothing like this. Once she calmed a bit the questions started.

“Who is he? What does he do? Where does he live? Tell me everything!” Her mother gushed at her. She answered her questions as vaguely as she could but her mother knew something was up that she wasn’t telling the full truth.

“What aren’t you telling me Mina?” Her mother wasn’t one to circle around her questions, she was much to direct for that.

“Mama please it’s late I really need to get some rest before tomorrow.” For a moment there was only silence, then her mother sighed.

“Just be careful. I love you.”

“Love you too mom.” Ending the call she wondered how this would all play out. 

Eventually they would find out he was an Apex, it was unavoidable. They would know the second they met him, but she hoped to have a few weeks at least alone for them to become closer before then. She wanted this to work, but would it? Could she ever be happy with an alpha? 

She cleared those thoughts from her head and crashed into her bed for the night. Hopefully the morning would hold more clarity, but it wasn’t likely. She was screwed and she knew it. She tossed and turned until the early hours, finally dozing for what seemed like just a few minutes before her alarm’s shrill ring startled her awake. 

Today was the day.

It would be the beginning or ending of her life as she knew it.

[supernaturalstilinski]

BayVerse!TMNT x mutant!f!Reader(Platonic)

Warnings: trauma,cussing, kidnapping,fluff,angst. Lmk if I missed anything

Summary: The boys always knew that they had to rely on each other but what happens when someone they never knew they had is found, and just like them?

“I don’t understand, why can’t we get into Sacks building at night?” Mikey asks looking around at his three brothers. “I mean I can try to hack into his security systems and block it and get in there and grab the Mutagen and leave” a smile is thrown from Mikey to Donnie.

“So we get in and get out.” Raphael shakes his head turning around and grabbing his Twin Sai’s and walks out of the lair towards the exit, with the boys following behind him.

-

“Stop talking so loudly Mikey, you idiot they’ll hear you” Mikey turns around looking at Leo with a Sheepish smile before dropping down into the lab. Looking around the huge lab they notice that there’s a lot more than just one Mutagen. One that would require a living being to create that much.

Donnie looks at them with a confused look before looking around for anything that can clear it up. Opening another door, he looks around freezing on a container. Meanwhile Raph trying to talk to Donnie but getting no response making him go over to him. “Can’t you hear m-“ he pauses looking at what Donnie sees. Without looking away Raph goes into the other room more not taking his eyes off Container. “Leo…Mikey get in here you need to see this.” Raph says before mumbling asking the unconscious mutant turtle in the container. He notices that it’s a woman and she looks older than them.

“Holy shit. We have to get her out of here.” Leo doesn’t waste a second before figuring out how to get her out of there. “Come on help me you idiots”

Snapping out of it the other three run over to help Leo figure out how to get the mutant out. Before their only focus was the mutagen but now they needed to know who this turtle is and where she came from. “Are you sure she’ll be okay?” Mikey grunts as he climbs back up to where they dropped down. Grabbing the woman he pulls her up first while Donnie runs around grabbing as much Mutagen as possible.

Getting to the Lair took a lot longer than usual considering Raphael is carrying the mutant. After setting her down on the couch, they all stand there looking at her confused. “Run some tests” Leo mumbles to Donnie before walking off trying to process it.

-

Waking up on something soft throws you off, quickly sitting up not being the best idea feeling a pounding sensation in your head. Looking around you notice a camera system but no one in the room. The mumbling of voices makes you stand up walking towards it slowly. Leaning against the door you hear muffled voices. “We don’t know who she is!” “We can’t just kick her out!” “She’s like us!” The voices say talking over each other. Opening the door I see four men. The voices stop,turning to look at me, eyes wide. I look at the one with the blue mask. “leonardo?..” I turn “Raphael?” Tearing up ii look at the last two. “donatello…? michelangelo? Oh my god” I go to take a step towards them but stop when they take a step back getting defensive.

“How do you know our names?” Leo steps forward glaring down at you. “I’m sorry you guys don’t remember me..um I was also an experiment when you boys were just little babies, When Dr. O’Neil burned down the building I was in a separate room from you boys and Splinter. They didn’t want us to have any type of connection. Little April she didn’t have time to save me, and Sacks got to me before she could. He’s been using me for years,but enough about me you boys are all grown up.” I smile slightly wanting to go over to them.

“That still doesn’t explain why he kept you from us, why would we have a connection?” Raph stays still not fully trusting you enough to let his guard down.

Sighing I step slightly closer to him before slowly raising my hand smaller hand that matches theirs to Raph’s face. “Because you boys are my sons..” I smile at them. “I’ve been hoping one day I would see you guys again.” I hear multiple sharp intakes of air around me. Glancing around I motion the other three to come closer. Holding their hands.

“But…we where told that you where dead” Mikey tears up laying his head on your shoulder. I tilt my head laying it on top of his before looking up slightly at the other three pulling them closer. Donnie on my other shoulder and the other two leaning their foreheads against mine.

“I’m here now…that’s all that matters. Not going anywhere.” Even in the tired, weak,and underweight state your body is in doesn’t stop you from holding your boys close.

“Now where’s Splinter? I need to thank him for raising wondering sons.”

At the end of the day you would go through all this again just to get to this point again no matter what. The boys have their mother and their mother has them.

TMNT taglist comment : 🐢

Fluff fics Taglist comment:♥️

Smut fics Taglist comment:🌶️

A/N: This was my first TMNT fic so it’s probably not great but I’m working on it. I don’t write much unless you send requests I love doing them. They are Open right now. Look at my Masterlist to see who I write for!♥️ thank you for reading Darlings!

[berriusagi]

SCP-1221 "Ghost" 2

“Si?” Johnny called, pushing the door to the door to the old cabin open, shuddering as he shook off the frost from his coat, “I got us some groceries,” he shouted heading to the kitchen and started loading the wood-burning stove up with more wood to help warm the place up.

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” Simon asked, coming out of the back bedroom wrapped up in a thick down comforter, his head the only part of his body visible, “Didn’t you just go and steal food from other cabins?”

“Look they have access to an actual grocery store and we can’t live off of only the deer you hunt we need some kind of grain or vegetable and look!” he said digging in his bag and pulling out a large bright red bell pepper, “I got us peppers.” he said a large smile stretching on his face, “we can make a stir fry tonight cause I also took this,” he said pulling out a large cast iron skillet from his bag of goodies.

Simon snorted, shaking his head as he walked over, opening up his blanket cocoon to wrap Johnny up in its warmth as he pressed his face into his neck, “You stole someone's pan.” he said, pressing the cold bone of his mask into Johnny’s even colder skin.

“We can’t cook everything over an open fire we needed something and this thing is just perfect,” he said moving closer to soak up as much warmth as he could from Simon, “How was everything while I was out?” he asked wrapping his arms around Simon’s waist trying to sneak his freezing fingers up under his shirt to press them on the warm skin of his back.

“If you both those icicles you call fingers on my bare skin I will throw you out of this cabin,” Simon warned leaning back just enough to glare into Johnny’s eyes.

Johnny looked at him with large wide innocent eyes smiling softly as he continued to push his fingers under Simon’s shirt.

“Oh, you little bitch!” Simon shouted, throwing the comforter off, and scooped Johnny up, throwing him over his shoulder. He ignored Johnny’s shrieks of laughter as he carried him towards the front door, throwing it open and prepared to throw him full force out into the dense snow surrounding their little cabin. He stopped short when he threw open the door to come face to face with an older man dressed warmly for the weather and wearing a ratty old beanie.

The man looked at the two men before him blinking slowly as he took in the sight, “I should say I’m shocked to see you two but that would be a fucking lie.” he said.

Johnny jolted at the man's voice twisting around until he was able to push himself up and look over Simon’s head to see, “Captain?” he asked, his jaw-dropping open when he saw the man, “Holy shit it’s really you what are you doing here?”

“You stole my pan.” he deadpanned, “Can I come in it’s fucking freezing out here.”

Simon was frozen in his spot every fiber of his being screaming at him to run away and to keep soap safe. This man works for the people that wanted to see Johnny dead, who’s to say that he won’t kill Johnny right in front of him? Simon didn’t know what to do, his mind going a mile a minute, his shadow tendrils beginning to thicken into a thick miasma.

“Whoa hey Si,” Johnny said wriggling around until he could lean back in Simon’s hold and look at his face, “hey it’s okay Price isn’t going to hurt us.” he said gently holding his face, “I promise okay?”

Simon looked between Johnny and Price before nodding slowly, keeping a tight hold on Johnny practically carrying him on his hip like a parent would a child as he stepped back letting Price enter the cabin.

Price walked in, closing the door behind him and blocking out the freezing winds as he looked at the two in front of him. “First.” he said, crossing his arms, “Give me back my pan. I spent good money on that thing.”

Johnny smiled a bit sheepish and moved to climb out of Simon's hold to go and grab the pan only for Simon to hold onto him tighter, refusing to let him go. “Uh Si you have to let me go,” he said gently as he rubbed his hands up Simon’s arms trying to soothe him.

Simon just shook his head keeping Johnny tightly held in his arms as his eyes remained trained on Price. Letting out a long sigh Johnny looked over at Price and shrugged, not really able to do much about the situation.

The three men all stood at a bit of a stalemate in terms of the return of the stolen pan. Price sighed, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes, “It’s like working with toddlers.” he muttered under his breath, “Can I at least know why you stole my pan?”

“Ah well ya see,” Johnny said trying to twist in Simon’s hold so he could look at Price more head-on, “Ah Si can you move a bit? This is putting a strain on my back,” he said. Simon shuffled turning so his body was facing more towards Price allowing Johnny to face him, “Thank you love,” he smiled patting his shoulder, “Anyways as I was saying-”

Price held up his hand to silence Johnny as he looked at them both incredulously, “Love? John, did you just refer to the SCP that caused so much mayhem at the facility when he broke out and stole you that they reclassified him as Keter, as love?”

Johnny’s cheeks took on a pinkish hue as he lowered his head, pouting slightly and hiding his face in Simon’s shoulder, “I don’t judge you on your relationship with Nik and Gaz,” he grumbled.

“John,” Price sighed, rubbing a hand down his face, “What happened? One day you were doing your job staying out of trouble and the next you were D-Class and then you were just gone. What happened? Where have you been this whole time?”

Johnny sighed looking at Simon and nodded towards the old couch and armchair, “Come on Si let's go sit down I think this is a talk best suited not standing in the entry.”

Simon nodded, walking over to the armchair taking a seat, and readjusting Johnny to sit on his lap with his back pressed to his chest. Johnny wiggled around a bit to get comfortable before allowing Simon to firmly wrap his arms around his waist pulling him back close to his chest. “Okay so uh where to start.” Johnny chuckled nervously.

“How about we start with what you did to get sentenced to D-Class.” Price sighed, taking his seat on the couch keeping a healthy distance from Simon both for his safety and to try to give Simon some comfort.

Johnny nodded, taking a deep breath as he geared up to drop that bomb on Price, “So uh you know how I was supposed to guard some of the harmless SCP in the facility? Yeah well uh I kinda pawned that off on one of the rookies and would go sit outside of Simon’s cell instead. Since I wasn’t supposed to be there I would uh” he winced, shrinking back as he looked away from Price, “I uh… I would alter the camera footage so there wasn’t any evidence that I was there.”

Price took a long slow breath as he processed that bit of information, “You…” he said pausing as he tried to collect himself, “You tampered with their cameras so they wouldn’t see you sitting outside his cell every night?” 

Johnny nodded, pulling his legs up so he could rest his feet on either side of Simon’s thighs curling in on himself. Simon glared at Price, his misty tendrils creating a comforting blanket over Johnny’s body as he held him close, “He was the only thing in that place that kept me sane.” Simon grumbled pressing his face in Johnny’s neck.

“That doesn’t surprise me given what John can do.” Price sighed leaning back in his seat.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Johnny asked, looking over at Price.

Price looked at him for a moment, raising his eyebrow, “Don’t tell me you don’t know.” he said, staring at Johnny. When it became apparent that Johnny had no idea what he was talking about, Price straightened up, “Oh you really don’t know.”

“Know what? What can I do Price?” Johnny asked.

“Ah well…” Price sighed, rubbing a hand down his face, “Okay look it’s nothing major it’s just something I and a few at the facility noticed over time, but John when you talk for a long time it can cause the person you're talking to to feel relaxed and comforted.”

Johnny blinked as he processed what Price had just said before twisting around in Simon’s hold to look at him, “Is that true?” he asked.

Simon nodded, hugging him tighter, “I always felt at peace when you were talking to me.” he said smiling softly, “I loved listening to you ramble. Still do.”

Johnny’s mouth fell open as he looked between the two of them, his head swinging back and forth, “Wait but if that’s true then how do I know you even like me?” he asked trying to shove himself out of Simon’s hold only for Simon to clamp his arms down on him in a vice grip, “Simon let me go what if you don’t even like me and my fucking babbling is what’s keeping you around.”

“John calm down,” Price said, getting to his feet as Johnny seemed to grow more hysterical at the thought he might have manipulated Simon, “You didn’t trick or manipulate us in any way, your voice causes comfort, it's not a siren's song.”

“How do you know that!?” Johnny shouted looking at him, “I never fucking shut up everyone says that. Who's to say you didn’t stick around just because I never learned to shut up.”

“John please it’s not like that.” Price said, trying to calm him.

“We don’t know that!” Johnny screamed his eyes filling with tears as he finally managed to break free of Simon’s hold falling hard onto the ground. Simon jumped up trying to help Johnny to his feet only for Johnny to shove his hands away putting distance between himself and the other two as quickly as he could manage before getting to his feet. “I’m not talking again until we know for certain it didn’t manipulate you two,” he announced before running to lock himself in the bedroom.

“Shit.” Price muttered as he heard the lock click on the bedroom door.

“Shit.” Simon agreed, rubbing a hand down his face.

“You’re a reality bender, get him out.” Price said, looking at Simon.

“That would only upset Johnny more and he might run away completely if we push this.” Simon sighed walking over to the door and knocking, “Johnny?” he asked waiting for a response he knew wouldn’t come, “At least open the door so I can give you the comforter it’s cold as fuck in there.”

The two men stood outside waiting until they heard the door unlock and open just enough for Johnny to stick his hand out waiting for the comforter. Simon sighed, picking it up off the floor and handing it over to him, “Please keep warm. I’ll be here to get you anything.” he said as Johnny pulled the comforter into the room before closing and locking the door once more.

Simon waited a few moments to listen for anything Johnny might need before turning and glaring at Price, “You didn’t tell him!?” he hissed keeping his voice low as his tendrils wrapped around Price dragging him into the living room, “You're like a father to him and you didn’t tell him he’s anomalous?”

Price sputtered as he was dragged and forced onto the couch he stared up at Simon bewildered, “I thought he fucking knew, I mean fuck the facility ran tests on him” he hissed back trying to keep his voice low as well so Johnny didn’t hear, “Why didn’t you tell him your fucking him.” he glared trying to force himself to his feet only for the tendrils to hold him down tighter.

“First, the fuck you mean they ran fucking tests on him,” Simon asked his tendrils thickening and shrouding him in a thick miasma.

“Not like you,” Price said, giving up on his struggle to look up at Simon, “They know he couldn’t keep his mouth shut so would station him in front of some of the more volatile SCPs and just let him talk to them through the door. The scientists would watch and record the changes to the SCP’s mood through a camera and sensors; he was never in danger. They were going to do the same thing with SCP-682 to see if John’s talking could mellow the damn thing out.”

“You and I both know he was being sentenced to death.” Simon growled leaning in closer until his mask was only centimeters away from Price’s face, “If I didn’t intervene he would have been killed and you know it. You were just going to let it fucking happen.” he spat out.

“I couldn’t go against protocol unless I wanted to be next on the chopping block.” Price snapped glaring into Simon’s eyes.

“You’re a fucking coward is what you are,” Simon sneered standing up, “Now you are not leaving this cabin until we fix this.” he growled crossing his arms, “I don’t know how but we need to fix this. Johnny can’t keep himself locked away indefinitely, he’ll lose his fucking mind and work himself up even worse than he already has.”

“I don’t know what you want from me, again you're the one fucking him you know him much more intimately than I do.” Price said, attempting to struggle out of his binds once more, “And besides you said it yourself; we can’t force him out or he’ll just make a run for it so all we can do is wait him out.”

Simon took a long slow breath rubbing a hand down his face before glaring at Price, “I am not fucking him.” he deadpanned.

“Oh, sorry making love didn’t realize you were such a romantic.” Price said, rolling his eyes.

“God I see why Johnny’s the way he is if you raised him. You're both smartasses. I'm not having sex with him. In case you forgot we were on the run. Not exactly the right time to get laid when you don’t have condoms.” he deadpanned, “that’s beside the point regardless of whether or not I’m fucking your pseudo son we need to fix this.” he growled.

Price sighed letting his head fall back on the couch, “John is a stubborn boy.” He said, tilting his head to look at Simon, “He’ll stay in that room until he finds proof we weren’t siren songed into liking him. Literally, all we can do is wait and make sure his needs are met so he doesn’t waste away in that room.”

Simon sighed, closing his eyes and dropping his head back, “Shit.” 

~.~.~.~

Simon stood in the kitchen wrapped up in warm layers that Price was kind enough to give to him or perhaps he felt sorry for the man. Regardless of why Price gave Simon clothing, he was thankful for it as he worked on cooking up some warm stew with some deer he killed while Price stood over by the counter working on some cornbread.

“Are you sure you're doing that right?” Simon asked, looking at the mixture in the bowl.

“I know how to follow a recipe son you work on that crime you call stew.” Price said, shoving him back towards the large pot.

Simon rolled his eyes and focused on the food covering the pot to let everything cook and the flavors meld. “Not my fault Johnny usually handles the cooking.” he muttered walking over to the bedroom door and knocking on it, “Johnny! Dinner will be ready in an hour,” he called, waiting for any sign that Johnny would finally speak to them.

Johnny remained silent but he did gently knock on the door to let Simon know he had heard him. It had been like that for a week. Price and Simon worked to ensure Johnny was fed and took turns trying to coax him out of the bedroom. Price would keep him company during the day and tell him about what had been going on at the facility since they left. While at night Simon would sit outside the door and just talk to him keeping his voice low in case he was sleeping but loud enough that he could still hear.

It had been a week and still no sign that Johnny was going to come out of the room. Simon sighed walking back to the kitchen and sitting at the table rubbing a hand down his face. “How much longer do you think he’ll keep himself locked in there?” he asked looking up at Price as he put the cornbread batter in the cast iron skillet to bake.

“John is a stubborn kid,” Price sighed closing the oven, “It could be a month before he comes out. There’s no telling what he’s even looking to see cause his talking never made us like him it just made us feel at ease around him. Like a…” he trailed off trying to find a good comparison, “a… an emotional support animal I guess would be the best comparison,” he said.

Simon sighed dropping his head to the table and letting out a low groan, “I’m going to lose my shit.” he muttered.

“Yeah well, there isn’t much we can do.” Price said patting his back on his way to the living room to relax until dinner was finished.

~.~.~.~

Darkness surrounded the cabin as the new moon sat invisible in the sky keeping the forest surrounding them in pitch darkness. Simon left the living room to let Price sleep on the couch stretched out and uncomfortable but not able to do much about it since he was locked inside. Taking a seat outside the door to the bedroom Simon leaned back against the door crossing his legs and letting his tendrils seep under the doorframe as he spoke. 

“Hey Johnny,” he said his voice low so as not to wake Price but still loud enough for Johnny to hear if he was awake. “I’m sure you heard about Price complaining about my cooking again, don’t see why he has to bitch so much that cornbread he made was dry as hell.” he chuckled letting his head rest against the worn wood of the door.

The cabin remained silent as Johnny still refused to speak to them. Simon sighed closing his eyes, “I don’t know what you want from me, Johnny.” he whispered, “Your voice didn’t make me like you. I grew to like you on my own. Your voice didn’t force me to save you. I saved you because it would have killed me to know you died and I didn’t do anything to protect you.” He said his tendrils starting to spread out across the floor inching closer to Johnny.

As Simon continued to speak he didn’t notice his tendrils started retreating back into him as Johnny moved closer to the door opening it. Simon let out a low startled noise as he fell backward ending up sprawled at Johnny’s feet. Johnny stared down at him dark circles under his eyes showing he hadn’t been sleeping much. His skin looked paler and his hair a mess and his clothes looked worse for wear.

“Hey…” Simon said sitting up, “You look terrible.”

Johnny snorted a small smile stretching across his face as he sat next to Simon leaning on him. He let out a long breath resting his head on his shoulder just soaking up his warmth and presence.

“You haven’t been sleeping much have you?” he asked wrapping an arm around him.

Johnny shook his head moving to sit in Simon’s lap burying his face in his neck just breathing deeply letting the tendrils wrap around him and cradle him close to Simon.

“I’ve been worried about you Johnny,” Simon said holding him close and rubbing his back, “Please talk to us again,” he begged, kissing his head, “Please Johnny.”

Johnny breathed deeply looking up at Simon opening his mouth to talk but pausing before looking away again and burying his face back into his neck.

Simon sighed rubbing his back, “That’s okay,” he said gently rocking him, “You can keep quiet as long as you need but I just need you to know. Your voice didn’t influence me in any way to care for you. I grew to love you because of who you are not what your voice can do. I miss your voice but if never hearing it again means I at least get to see and hold you then I can live with that.” he said kissing his temple.

Johnny sniffled curling up in Simon’s hold pulling back just enough to look up at him, “Really?” he croaked out his voice rough from disuse.

“Really,” Simon said kissing him gently, “I miss your voice but I’ve missed holding you more Johnny.”

Johnny smiled, softly sniffling cuddling close to him, “I’ve missed being held.” he whispered.

“Then can I please hold you tonight,” Simon asked.

Johnny nodded hugging his neck as Simon got to his feet and carried him into the bedroom and settled him onto the bed before climbing in after him. “Let's sleep tomorrow we’ll figure everything out,” Simon said holding him close.

Johnny smiled cuddling close and pressing his face into Simon’s chest, “Tomorrow.” he mumbled quickly falling asleep nestled in Simon’s arms.

[autumn-solitude]

Killer wants to sleep in Cross’ bed despite there being multiple rooms (bodyguard au)

It was late.

“So I said, nah, I’ll mustard up some energy.”

Very late.

“C’mon, Crossy. That’s where you’re supposed to laugh.”

Late enough that everyone in the house should have been asleep, and yet here Cross was, listening to Killer’s poor attempts to engage him in conversation.

“Hey? Hey Cross?” Killer was propped up on an elbow, having made himself comfy. “Crisscross. My client with the hot, hot bod and burly man tits aka padding aka just ecto under that tight, tight tank. My fit witness to protect. You awake?”

“Why are you in my bed?” Cross eventually grumped, sighing in aggravation as Killer eagerly perked up and sidled closer across the mattress.

“I’m cold.” Killer whispered conspiratorially, eye sockets scrunched up gleefully with a massive shit-eating grin firmly in place.

Cross didn’t fully believe the excuse; he could see through the mask by now.

Killer was acting as if several days ago he’d never being buried alive in mud. As if being frantically dug out by hand, carefully revived, and then painstakingly cleaned off hadn’t been a traumatizing experience on top of Killer believing that Cross had been successfully abducted; that Killer had failed his duty as Cross’ bodyguard.

“…you are aware that there is a fireplace in Dream’s living room?” Cross questioned seriously, struggling to banish the soul-wrenching sight of Killer’s bones being caked with mud, the worst of it solidified within parted teeth and sockets, as if Killer had been cruelly pinned face first into the wet muddy hound before being buried in it, alone and-

“Sure. I know.” Killer inched closer with a curious tilt of his skull. “But you know what?”

“Killer.” A warning. A plea to take it easy after such an experience. Cross bunched up slightly, an automatic response to someone encroaching on his personal space. The ex-soldier watched in trepidation as Killer’s grin hitched up, signaling he was about to lay his next words on thick and dramatic.

“I don’t want the fireplace.” Killer placed a hand to his brow. “You have ruined me by providing your toasty body to warm me up after that boat incident in the harbor.”

Cross was glad Killer was recovering well from the whole buried in mud ordeal, but was this really the best way to cope with the nightmares that followed? Not that Cross really had a say in how anyone else handled their trauma, considering Cross himself didn’t always have the best coping methods either.

“But you already knew that, didn’t you Crossy?” Killer invaded Cross’ space confidently as he experimently slid a hand along the other’s jaw, lightly running the tips of his phalange along. “You’re hotter than any fire.” The bones clicked along, before the phalange trace the underside of Cross’ jaw. “A beacon in the dark to a cold bastard like me to watch your fine, fine backside while I get all warm and fuzzy. A burning presence that-urk!” Killer was cut off as he was suddenly yanked forward right where he wanted to be, his face pressed directly into Cross’ chest. “Hell yeah.” Came a muffled whimper of surprise.

“I’m too tired for this bullshit of yours.” Cross maneuvered an eager Killer away from his summoned deep purple ecto beneath the tank top (Killer protested this by squirming and trying to turn back around). With a grumble, Cross flipped Killer over again, then dragged him backward into his body, sleepily thinking how perfectly Killer fit the line of his body from chest to thighs as he burned off excess magic. “Go to sleep.” Maybe he could help the other skeleton monster stave off any lingering nightmares, like this. Because Killer did have a point that Crosd had shared his body heat, when Killer had been shivering from icy cold water after being flung from their fishing boat.

“Holy shit.” Killer wheezed out as Cross’ arms wrapped around his waist, one under his lower back and one below his wavering target soul over his waist. Killer’s breath hitched when Cross snuggled in closer and tucked the bodyguard’s skull beneath his jaw. Killer lie stunned, hands gripping the sheets before unlatching to go to Cross’ in a death grip of disbelief. Cross was spooning him! Damn, he really was warm and toasty. “You sure know how to treat a guy right, Cross.”

An actual honest answer.

Amazing.

Cross was too exhausted and emotionally compromised to think about that honestly.

“You’re blushing, aren’t you?” Killer teased, but without the usual sass. “I have that effect on people.” Tacked on, as if to cover himself from having an emotion over being so close to Cross.

“Shut the fuck up and go to sleep.” The ex-soldier mumbled irritably (he was blushing, dammit) as he squeezed Killer tighter to him, in an effort to stop the excited squirming. Cross relaxed incrementally once Killer finally settled, albeit oddly letting out little wheezes of breath and twitches until Cross realized he’d been holding Killer too tightly and loosened his grip, horrified if the action and hoping he didn’t make Killer feel trapped like he had in that mud pit.

“Hngh.” Killer issued out unintelligibly before suddenly turning over in Cross’ arms to plant his face straight back into Cross’ chest, voice coming out dazed and muffled, hands drifting lower as the bodyguard cupped the back of Cross’ shorts experimentally. Killer sighed wistfully at what he found, tone shifting to cover unease as it became light and salicious. “Oh yeah, that’s the shit.”

“Killer…” Cross moved his arms, tenderly placing his hand to the back of Killer’s skull and cervical vertebrae, drawing out a delighted gleeful gasp. The ex-soldier proceeded to smother his bodyguard by shoving the Killer’s face harder into the tank covered ecto, prepared to let go the moment Killer showed any signs of discomfort. However, being crushed to solid ecto warmth apparently was a-okay to the other monster and Cross let out a patient sigh but a firm “Hands off!”

“Noooo your summoned ass feels great in my hands.” Killer protested, face smothered by ecto and not at all put out by this as his hands moved.

Cross let out a surprised yelp.

“And would you look at that? It slaps nicely under my hands too, soldier boy.”

Dream, peering into the room, shook his skull in bemusement over the sight of the ensuing wrestling match. He didn’t believe he was ever going to understand what kind of relationship was forming between Killer and Cross. But at the very least the two could find comfort in one another after what had happened. But Dream and Swap still had the culprits to deal with, even though the little group was no longer a threat. The would-be abductors could possibly have information to help piece together how Nightmare was getting instructions to others outside of his prison cell.

Killer suddenly let out a delighted whoop over being pinned onto his back on the bed by a fond of exasperated Cross, soul an inverted heart as a pale white eye light gazed up.

With a resigned sigh over the continued overtime, but happy both monsters were okay, Dream finally withdrew from the cracked open door to return to his own room. Dream idly wondered if Killer could still be employed as a bodyguard after this was all over with, when it was clear that not only was Killer interested in Cross’ well being despite being an ass, he also was very attracted to Cross, even if Killer would deny it was more than the ex-soldier’s body he was interested in. But that pale eye light fondly watching Cross with a soft smile was different than Dream had ever seen Killer direct to anyone since he’d know the bodyguard.

[theweirdspacejellyfish]

Long completed Ao3 fanfics pt3 @:≈

Noxed out and knocked up by made1for1life1 - 7 chapters and 7,933 word count. Description = “Them.” Brian rubbed his finger. “Holy shit I’m pregnant.” He grinned, staring off into the distance.

“Congratulations Mister O’Conner.” The doctor smiled.

He was absolutely not expecting to be expecting when he took this case, or when he went into the doctor with a stomach problem. But that's how he ends up. Way to go O'Conner.

I just wanna be somebody to someone bySnowJinx - 32 chapters and 121,772 word count. Description = Jack and Bunny are caught fighting one too many times and North decides to do something about it.

Dragontower by Silvalina - 7 chapters and 8,254 word count. Description = Ranboo kinda sees how Tommy gets treated by everyone, hes an end creature and haha, enderdragon hybrid pog. Dragons have hoards of special things, humans can be part of that.

Never leave home again by verdreht - 24 chapters and 58,463 word count. Description = After covering for Toretto and his crew, Brian barely managed to keep his job. Now he's in over his head on an undercover detail. One night, it finally all comes back to bite him in the ass, and when he wakes up, he's somewhere he never thought he'd be again. And now he's not sure he ever wants to leave.

Sheep in wolves clothing by Starlight Sakura - 15 chapters and 38,415 word count. Description = On the run from dangerous people, Izuku Midoriya finds himself in a well hidden village. The problem? It's a village of werewolves and he is undeniably human. Hiding this fact about himself becomes increasingly difficult after catching the interest of two wolves in town. Can he keep his secret under wraps or will he be found out and killed by the locals.

By your ancient names by Charnel - 13 chapters and 55,705 words. Description = “My gold.” Techno spoke, thousands of voices echoing in his words. Whispering and chattering. His calloused hand reaching up, dragging along the blood that was dripping from Tommy’s neck. Dripping down and burning away in the flames consuming the roots that held him.

The same hand that had fed him and given him shelter, as involuntary as it had been, was gently placed at the back of his skull. Techno’s thumb pulling across the golden earring that now felt like an anchor dragging him below the surface of a pool of magma.

Wearing Techno’s face, the Blood God grinned at him.

Tommy did not regret punching him.

You keep what you kill by IWillBeYourPet - 12 chapters and 36,750. Description = You keep what you kill is something that Riddick can get behind, especially since he's always lived that way. The army is his, the ships are his and Vaako is his. Simple. Vaako disagrees, not that it seems to matter.

We were gods (We were kids) by Horde_Ghost, TheseusHasFallen - 20 chapters and 62,185 word count. Description = Theseus scrunched his nose, even as he wore the new name of Tommy. That’s all having a new name was, wearing another mask, as if it shifted who you were and always would be. He was Theseus when he changed and the cold set in, when it sunk deep into his very soul. And Tommy?

He didn’t think he’d changed a bit.

Protection by scarslikeconstxllations - 3 chapters and 9,455 word count. Description = When Spiderman is lured into a biotechnology institution by a fake police radio emergency, he walks right into the trap of a group of mercenaries. Claiming that they work for a company called Alpha, the mercenaries try to capture him. In an attempt to save himself, Spiderman gets injured badly and calls on Eddie and his Other for help.

Drowsy promises by LizzDizz108 - 5 chapters and 10,159 word count. Description = As the drugs and the alcohol pulled him down, he promised himself that he'd protect these kids with his life. He had no idea what that wacko wanted with them, but he was going to keep them safe come hell or high water.

If this man, Phil, even laid a hand on either of them, he's going to kill him, or die trying.

Run with it by Firefly410 - 4 chapters and 7,929 word count. Description = Anthony Robello is a 16 year old boy in the Italian Mafia who is just looking for a break, that is until he meets a man by the name of Alastor Devaux.

Someone to fulfill your desires by II_MalaysiasRose_II - 6 chapters and 16,120 word count. Description = Lo'ak wants to find someone to fulfill all of Neteyam’s needs and wants. Aonung wants to do just that. Lo'ak does not like Aonung. Neteyam is oblivious through it all, until he's not.

Protective Custody by Niecy8 - 15 chapters and 37,335 word count. Description = The one that Chris and Peter are the cops who have to look after Stiles and perhaps the situation is not as bad as they all thought it would be.

A plague until you break by seasonaldpressionclub - 7 chapters and 31,527 word count. Description= Tommy's village begins to be hit by supernatural plagues, and everyone begins to turn on Tommy... Well, that is except for four awaiting deities.

Ad astra per aspera by missjudge- 11 chapters and 27,387 word count. Description = What would have happened if Ye Zun hadn't died that day in the palace, if neither of them had?

Ye Zun gets a second chance, to find himself, to find peace, to find love, and maybe also a purpose.

Ring of fire by LazyGeisha - 11 chapters and 6,269 word count. Description = Being punished for fighting, Chu is having to work in the library with a very annoyed Guo. Hijinx to follow?

Sometimes, you need the sun in your life by LizzyZoey - 17 chapters and 29,002 word count. Description = Tommy is just an orphan human boy doing normal orphan human things but 3/4 dragon SBI said "mine"

The fast sentinel and the furious guide by hellsbells - 14 chapters and 21,044 word count. Description = So Bilkins thought that he could pull a fast one by not telling unbound Sentinel O'Conner that his suspect was unbound Guide Toretto. Just how many ways will this blow up in his face?

Abducted or adopted? By Starling12 - 10 chapters and 42,811 word count. Description = He thinks that they don’t know he’s intelligent. With how kind they just seem to be, he doesn’t think they would do this to an actual person. So maybe he just needs to prove himself to them, and they’ll show him human—er, alien—decency.

Yeah. Ok. How hard can that be?

A voice from the stars by SliverWing15 - 14 chapters and 39,928 word count. Description = Thirteen years ago, Phil's sons were taken away from him. He is going to get them back. No matter what.

Tommy is completely, totally, perfectly fine by Phoenixflame032106 - 17 chapters and 32,593 word count. Description = Tommy has an abusive relationship with his parents. Tubbo, his only friend, died in a car crash a few months ago, so he has nowhere to go, nothing to do except to run.

So that is what he does.

He runs miles and hours, coming to rest at an abandon house. Turns out, it's not so abandon, though. A few ghosts still hang around, haunting any unfortunate blonde, british teens who fall asleep on their couches

Join the club by HashtagLEH - 28 chapters and 143,308 word count. Description = Homeless and mute after everything Peter has been through, he somehow makes friends with Deadpool, as Spiderman. And then he meets the Avengers, as Peter.

The trouble with threesomes and supernatural soul mates by Akira_of_the_Twilight - 15 chapters and 87,983 word count. Description = Peter looked at Stiles from the corner of his blue eyes and smirked. Stiles swore he saw a flash of red Peter’s eyes, but it might of have been his brain’s lack of oxygen making him hallucinate. “I’m looking for my soul mate. Christopher Argent. I believe he volunteered to be taken in for questioning.”

An iron fist clenched Stiles' heart. This man was Argent’s—Christopher’s soul mate?

Stiles stared at the Peter’s wrist, examining every detail of Peter's soul mark. Stiles couldn’t find anything different between his and the blond’s.

Stiles lifted his hand and ghosted his fingers along Peter’s forearm.

It was lightning all over again, and Stiles yanked his hand back, only to have it caught in an unbreakable grip.

Frosty blue eyes burrowed into Stiles', and he couldn’t stop himself from gulping. The smirk on Peter’s lips grew as the corner of his mouth quirked higher, and he drew Stiles’ hand close to his face.

Peter’s nostrils flared slightly as he stared at Stiles’ soul mark. He pulled Stiles forward, pressing soft lips to Stiles wrist.

“Now what would your name be?” Peter purred.

[punemy-spotted]

The Price You Pay

Pairing: Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Non-con/Dub-con, mentions of murder, unclear timeline, blackmail, unprotected sex, fingering (F!receiving), smut, esoteric references to past abuse, manipulation, Dark!Fic

Words: 5.2k (holy fuck?)

Summary: You need his help. He names his price.

Notes: This is for @stargazingfangirl18 and her incredible 5K Soft!Dark Challenge and I can't believe I wrote over 5k words for a oneshot, making this the longest piece I've ever written. I took a blend of prompts: Mob!AU; “When I woke up this morning, I certainly didn’t think my day would end like this;” and “That’s a big favor you’re asking for, I think you need to make it worth my while.”

And this was intended to be a oneshot but now I can't stop thinking about it so thanks Siri, I think this is now a part of my WIPs too! Your work is amazing and I had a blast being able to take part in this!

As usual, my work is 18+ ONLY, Minors DO NOT INTERACT

You went to him first.

You went to him, handed them your business card and I want to speak to Steve Rogers.

Honestly they almost threw you out with an extra hole in your head but then the man of the hour walked right in.

So now you’re here. Now you’re here, sitting across a gorgeous dining table with a ten-course meal laid out and honestly you’re surprised they didn’t tie your wrists to the arms of the chair while you watch him eat and take in the look of those baby blue eyes scanning you over.

He even brought you non-alcoholic rosé, when you said you didn’t drink.

So.

So.

You wanted to talk to me?

Yeah, I do. Thought you’d just sit me in your office, have a consultation.

I like breaking bread with new friends. Have a nice dinner, get the wine flowing — of course, that’s not gonna loosen your tongue, but we’ll forgive it.

Oh. Cool, I like being forgiven.

He laughs at that one and the room, strumming with tension, snaps into amusement. So do you, cracking a half smile on dark red lips, before swallowing down the lump of anxiety threatening to break through and destroy everything. You need this. You need this and you can’t let anything — not your nervousness, not your morals, not him — stop you. You need this and it needs to be done and if this is what justice is in this fucking city then so be it.

Well, sweetness, you’ve got my attention. You want to talk business or pleasure?

That one makes you laugh, a little sharp and a little cruel, and the curling smirk on his face gets a little furrowed because he hears it too — pain.

It could be both, you say finally, picking up the glass of rosé-that-wasn’t, if your reputation is as real as they say it is.

He lifts a bite of cheesecake into his mouth and lets it melt on his tongue while he watches you, somewhere between impressed and incensed. You know the look — you saw it the last time he met you in court, but you weren’t there as allies then. Never thought you’d come to me, he admits finally, sounding halfway bemused at the idea, but you’re full of surprises, aren’t you, Counsel?

You wince, or maybe smirk, eyes on the man before you.

It’s a game, a dance, a ruse, and the woman you thought you were thirteen months ago when you put four of Steve Rogers’s best men in jail for fifteen years — fifteen years longer than any District Attorney had ever managed to do before you, and you were just the rookie they handed a shit case to — is leagues different from the woman you are now, seated prim and proper in the lion’s den.

You’re not innocent. That’s not been your game for years — this life doesn’t leave room for innocence, it tears at you, leaves you tired and broken and ill.

Your colleagues learned to fear him a long time ago, the man before you. Captain America, leading the city, the country, the world into a new era of high tech crime all under his thumb. It’s a pretty shiny shield, the one that sits behind him, but mirrors are black on the other side and his soul is dark as coal.

You’re not an angel yourself, and this deal with the Devil isn’t for anyone but you.

I need someone taken care of.

So you come to me? I thought you were a lady of morals, Counsel.

Certain kinds of morals.

You can see him smile, see the way he raises his glass, the glimmer of malice and amusement in his eyes. So tell me. What’s the name?

You give it.

He’s not in the city, your target, but he will be. A Judge, an activist, real tough-on-crime-sweet-on-justice type of shit. You don’t tell him the reasons why, because those are yours, but you tell him the name. You tell him he’s a problem, you tell him he’s dangerous, you tell him you’ll pay to have him taken care of, you tell him you don’t want to practice in front of that black, black robe.

And he smiles like the Devil he is, watches you with a grin and drinks his whiskey in one last shot before slamming it down, Real woman of the law, aren’t you?

You said that when we met the first time.

He’s a hunter, you can see it in his eyes. That lion’s mane might be tamed right now but it won’t be for long and you’re playing with wild animals. The eyes on you are ice and daggers, daring you to do the one thing everyone in the office has been begging you not to do.

(Drop the charges, Rookie, the case is just to get your face in front of the judge.)

You upped the charges.

(Rookie, you don’t know what you’re dealing with, there’s other cases.)

You subpoenaed his phone records.

(Rookie, don’t make me drag you off this case!)

You won.

You had no witnesses and a jury you had to drag in from god-knows-where after you proved, over and over again, that he’d paid off the cohort in the courtroom. Finding people with nothing to lose and a desire to do their civic duty wasn’t harder than you thought — it was exactly as impossible as you expected.

But you did it.

That’s what you do, isn’t it? Push and push and fight, claw your fingers at the ledge and pull yourself up, you pay for your crimes in your blood, sweat and tears you pay for the things you could have done then and didn’tdo.

You pay.

And sometimes, that payment bounces back.

And when it was all said and done, when the closing statements were delivered, when the Jury came back out and the Judge — hands shaking, mouth agape, eyes wide — read out the verdict no one expected, you… didn’t feel any better, did you? There was no justice for you in that room, just the searing glare of ice-blue eyes and the burning of your steel spine.

Real woman of the law, aren’t you?

First words he said to you, while the courtroom emptied out and you stood there, facing the man you’d just made an enemy of with your briefcase in your hand and your eyes aflame.

I did my job.

Did you? Is that what you think your job is?

My job is justice, unflinching and blind, Mr. Rogers. I don’t care how much power you have or how afraid you leave this city, I’m going to do my job.

You could always let justice turn a blind eye.

Yeah. I could, but that wouldn’t make this any fun, would it? Thank you for the win, Mr. Rogers — I’m sure I won’t get many more.

You leave him with a smile on his face and the scent of your perfume in his memories.

He leaves you with the pride of victory in your bones and a reminder that your strife could be worth it.

One day.

How do you plan to fill that pit, the one you tossed the corpses of your old self into? The one you let them claw up out of, to haunt you? Remind you?

You’re digging your own grave and you know it, but you won’t let Steven Grant Rogers be the first one to toss a handful of dirt over your corpse.

But now here you are.

In his dining room, enjoying dessert and some sort of after-meal coffee. In need of him…

This might almost have been a date, if not for the topic of conversation.

So. You want a Judge taken out. What if he’s already on my payroll?

Why would you keep a dead man in your pocket?

You like the sound of his laugh, and you don’t even have the excuse of wine to fall back on when it warms your core. Don’t admit it though, don’t say it aloud, don’t let him get an in. Be smart, cross your legs tighter, keep your eyes on the prize.

You’re so close to the finish line.

That’s a big favor you’re asking for, Counsel, I think you need to make it worth my while.

Worth your while?

I’m not a charity. And since you put the guy I usually use to handle these things behind bars for a few years—

You know I can get him out too.

That’s not payment, that’s putting things right.

You take a drink. Steady on, girl.

I’m leaving the DA’s office.

That stops him.

Oh that stops him good, and he looks fascinated. Interested. You’ve said something he can use as leverage and it’s not just about a job. That smirk on his face is smug and his eyes are darker and he has to know the impact that look has.

Can’t falter, don’t falter, don’t give in.

Am I allowed to ask why?

No.

You’ve done your research. You just don’t know why you’re thinking about it now. Steven Grant Rogers, “Captain America,” leader of a crime family that had too many names to stamp out, bolstered by a mad scientist, a military man through-and-through who turned New York into his own private base against whatever stood against his way.

Get in his good graces and you’re set for life. Get in his good graces and you’re safe, you’re protected, you’re good.

Get on his bad side and you only make that mistake once.

There are no second chances in this game, and here you are, asking for one.

So what? You leave the DA’s office, you leave yourself open to me — you think leaving New York is going to be the thing that stops me, Counsel?

No.

Then what?

Breathe. Steady.

I know you gave me that win on purpose — you could have taken out my last jury cohort. This isn’t about the four men… and you know I’ll get them out. This is something else, but I’m not here to ask about what or why.

He falters just briefly, like he’s surprised you knew, but the crack in his mask smooths itself over as soon as it forms and he’s back to watching you, nodding along in silence while you breathe and watch him and keep talking.

But even then. I got four of your guys in prison. And I know how your organization works — I subpoenaed the documents, remember? Your lawyers are good, but they’re not used to people asking the right questions. You want someone to seal up the cracks you need someone who actually knows what to look for.

You have more than his attention, you have his interest, and now he’s leaning in a little. Imperceptibly, but enough. Scanning over you from across the table, like he’s thinking how you managed to get so impertinent in the face of the likes of him but that’s the thing — when the only thing you have left to lose is your life, you’ll risk everything.

So what are you offering?

Breathe. Don’t. Stammer.

Myself.

The chair scrapes and suddenly there’s the clicking of guns, aimed and ready until his hand rises up and he stops them and he’s stalking towards you.

This is the lion’s den, sweetness.

The stakes are higher and you ought to be braver and he’s got your chin in his hand before you have a chance to react, dragging you to your feet. Do you know what you’re offering me, Counsel? Low and hissed and hungry, like those perfect teeth might be sinking into your throat in the next moment.

Oh, you have no idea.

You get me. On your payroll — you know. The offer you sent me a year ago.

You think it’s still open?

If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t have met with me.

The chuckle in your face makes your cheeks warm and you’re looking more flushed than you would like, the open shoulders of your dress suddenly feeling a lot more like a mistake the more you realize just what kind of meal he might make out of you tonight.

We might need to have a discussion about your workplace duties, Counsel.

You don’t notice the hand near your thigh until it’s too late, sliding up the soft fabric of your skirt until it’s squeezing your ass, until it’s jerking you towards him, until you’re pressed against his chest and the hand on your chin is now hooked around the back of your neck, thumb pushing your jaw until you’re forced to look at him. Won’t lie, when I woke up this morning, I certainly didn’t think my day would end like this, having your pretty little body in my arms,and you can look as indignant as you want but he’s got the upper hand and you only thought you were two steps ahead of him.

You think I haven’t thought about what it’d be like to put you in your place, Counsel? You’ve got a smart mouth — I wanna know what else it can do.

He doesn’t give you a chance to use that mouth to lash at him, lips sliding over yours, swallowing that indignant yelp with a punishing kiss. Nipping at the plushness of your lower lip until you open your mouth and yield to him with a sigh of reluctant surrender, let his tongue slide past that barrier for him to explore. He’s got his fingers wound through your hair, just a little too tight and whether the whimper in your chest is because of the pain or because of the want, he doesn’t care.

Knew you’d be sweet, Counsel… softly, when he pulls back to look at you, take a look at those love-swollen lips and your ruined lipstick, the pretty way you pant at him already, the heat burning your cheeks. Pay no attention to the slick warmth between your thighs, pay no attention to the way he makes you burn already, pay no attention to how your fingers have curled into the lapel of his coat to hold yourself steady, pay no attention to how you suddenly miss the pressure of his lips.

All that smart-talk and now you’re quiet, Counsel? F’I knew it just took a kiss to get you to shut up, I would’ve done that at trial, he’s purring in your ear, soft and sweet and you should push at his chest, so uncurl your fingers girl and push.

I didn’t say I was selling my body, there’s your harshness, and there he is, laughing at you again, the grip on your hair jerking your head back until you’re looking into those dagger-cold eyes again.

You don’t make the rules here, Counsel, I do, and you need me more than I need you. So if you want to make sure your Judge can’t start wreaking havoc on your career… you might want to get used to readjusting it for me. I promise I’ll make you feel nice, if you let me…

And if I don’t?

Then I take what I want and I don’t feel bad for not holding up my end of the bargain. Your choice, Counsel, you cum willingly and I’ll give you everything you want. Don’t, and it’ll hurt you more than it hurts me.

That’s not a threat, that’s a promise, and suddenly you’re more scared than you ever thought you’d be, wondering if you’ll need to sell another part of your soul to take him down after. How much of yourself will you put up as collateral to get justice for the wrongs you were never able to correct?

You’re afraid.

Oh sweetness, you’re afraid.

Here? Now?

No, Counsel, we’re gonna do this right, aren’t we? You wanna be in bed with me, I’ll take you to bed with me. Come on, say it. Say the word.

Say no. Say no, rail and fight, stamp your heels into the expensive leather of his shoes, jam your knee into the sensitive between his legs, scream and yell and tell him you will never let another man take advantage of you again to help you reach your goals. Do it. Do the thing you swore you would do the next time a man like him — men who think they can take anything from anyone, men who think they own the world and the women in it, men who think you aren’t strong enough to fight back — propositioned you just like this.

You’re selling your soul to get rid of a man just like this.

But that’s coiling heat in your core that wasn’t there the last time, was it? That’s want. That’s the realization that you like the way this predatory smile feels, that you like the way this one wants you. You’re not her, not scared and alone and helpless. You could fight back and run and maybe escape if you were lucky.

You could choose.

He’s let go of your hair to stroke your cheek with the backs of his fingers, soft and sweet, You gonna give me an answer, Counsel, or am I gonna have to take it?

Say something. Say no. Scream. Say no say no say no say— Yes.

It’s a whisper. A desperate, soft whisper. A helpless, lonely whisper. It’s enough.

He sweeps you around until you’re pressed with your back against his unyielding chest, feeling him flex with every movement, broad arm wrapped around your shoulders from the front. All of you are dismissed, and that’s when you remember there were others in the room with you. Others who just watched you concede to becoming Captain America’s newest plaything and the burn on your cheeks is more shame than lust. You pull at his arm briefly, futilely, earning a tighter hold for your efforts and a whispered don’t make me choke you, before you are half-walked, half-dragged out of the dining room.

The walk to his room is slow and agonizing as you’re pulled along, barely struggling but barely helping at the same time, tears sliding down your cheeks as you come to terms with what’s going to happen next — no one is going to save you tonight, no one’s going to interrupt and drag you out, this is your job and this is your place and here you are.

No one speaks. There’s no sound but the steady tap of your heels and his shoes on fine marble. Even your sobs are silent, even your breathing is muffled, until the stairs are traversed and the faintest click of a lock turning opens the door to the rest of your life.

You made a deal.

Time to pay.

Sit on the bed.

You move as if in a trance, and he watches your face, the hint of waterproof mascara failing to do its job, the smudged ruby red of your lipstick. Don’t give me that look, you knew what you were signing up for when you walked into this house, Counsel.

His hands are gentler than you’d expect, when he wipes away the streaks your tears leave down your pretty cheeks, coaxing you to look up at him, We’ll set ground rules later. Tonight? I wanna see if I can get that mouth of yours to beg for me.

It won’t, you snap without thinking, knifeblade sharp and cruel, ready for a fight again. He promised you that once, in a hiss you thought you’d misheard but no, you heard him just fine and now if he thinks he can quench your fire and have you pleading just because you sold your body for the prospect of revenge then he’s wrong.

Thing is, he laughs like that’s a challenge, and the hand holding your chin so gently is wrapped around your throat before you know it, silencing your voice with just the right application of pressure. I can do this all night, Counsel. Do you think you can last that long?

Fear. Anger. Indignation. You are fury made flesh and he is manipulating you with just the barest press of his palm and sliding over you, until you’re laid out there on soft sheets and he’s looming over you, splaying that big hand out and sliding it down your throat, over your chest, feeling the ruching of the fabric under his palm. You wrapped yourself up like a present for me, didn’t you sweetness?

The change in nickname isn’t lost on you but here you are, glaring up at him while he smiles so beatifically it leaves your blood boiling and your skin steadily warming. The rise and fall of your chest is hypnotic, every angry breath a swear you don’t utter, every inhale your protests dying in your throat. What can you say, what would you say, right now? There’s nothing that can change the way he looks at you, or the way his eyes flicker from ice to blue fire the more he takes stock of the pretty little thing he’s about to start sharing his bed with.

Fuck, you’re beautiful, that one shocks you, but not as much as the sudden rush of cold air when he tears the emerald green fabric of your dress down and reveals the soft swells of your breasts, nipples peaked from the sudden cold.

You don’t get much time to gasp, just something soft and strangled before he turns your voice to whimpers, wrapping lips around that pebbled tip and laving his tongue over sensitive flesh. Where are your words now, Counsel, while he threatens the softness of your chest with the scrape of his teeth, when he slides his hands over the round curve of your thighs and parts your legs so he can press himself between them, so he can press himselfagainst you? Where is the knife-dagger of your wit to protest each soft, suckling kiss to your skin, each press of his fingers like he could just squeeze his ownership of you into the plushness of your hips, into the sweet swell of your ass? What do you say to the dirty little thrust of his hips as he bucks with his own burning need, reminding you just how much this is for hispleasure as he will make it for yours.

You would, could, should push him off and instead what are you doing? Curling your fingers into the silk-smooth of his comforter, desperate to writhe out of your own skin away from the burning pressure between your thighs, the foreign, unfamiliar heat you suddenly feel like you might be craving.

Anyone ever touch you like this before me, Counsel?Warm breath splays across your skin when he questions you, eyes fixed on yours and he waits. Answer him, answer him, tell him he’s nothing, tell him you’ve had better, lie and destroy that ego, lie lie lie lie—

Nnnh—no.

He looks like you’ve just told him the best news of his life, eyes wide and blown with lust, Oh is that right? You’re saying no one’s ever touched you this good? Or just no one’s ever touched you at all?

You don’t have to answer. The furious blush on your cheeks? The way your eyes slide away from his? The way you writhe, trying to press your thighs together to relieve the pressure and finding the effort futile? If the man’s grin could get any wider, it would, right now. Oh sweetness, we’re going to have so much fun exploring your body together…

He pulls back just enough to take a look at you, already flushed and writhing and overwhelmed and if he could take a picture of this right now he would. He’ll save that for later though. Tonight? Tonight is just the two of you, and his hands are back to your skirt, pushing the tight fabric up over your round hips and revealing the lace of your panties… just before he rips them off, to the sound of your indignant yelp Steve!

You’re going to call me Captain, sweetness, we’re not close enough to use my name just yet.

No. No you’re not, and he’s not sure you’ll ever be — he rather likes the idea of hearing you whimper out his title when he gets you desperate and wanting.

He touches, slow and steady, watching you try to jerk away and tutting at you when you do, fingers at your delicate nerves like an assault on your pleasure. Bite your lip, bite back the moans, whine at him like he’s wounded you, You’re so wet, sweetness, you’re so desperate for me aren’t you, as he palms his cock to relieve the pressure on himself. You’re going to beg before he does and he’s patient, he’ll last the night.

St-stop it, it’s too— he shushes you ahtahtaht and rests his free hand on your mound, holding you down so his probing, inspecting fingers can take stock of the velveteen plushness of your delicate cunt. It’s too much, too much and you want to scream the moment he presses one finger into you, already overwhelmed, already so tightly wound the barest touches are unraveling you steadily.

You’re such a pretty thing, all desperate and needy, sweetness. You wanna cum already, don’t you? So busy, never gave anyone the chance to fuck that stuck-up bitch right out of you, did they? It’s almost pitying, isn’t it, the way he talks, hums at you while you’re reduced to a whining, whimpering mess so soon, so desperate for the release he’s on the edge of denying you, feeling you flexing around his finger and then the second leaping jolt of your body when another joins the inspection. Taking careful stock of the pretty cunt he owns now, and he’s careful to curl his fingers just right as he seeks the spot to hammer just to get you to scream.

You don’t, not yet, but that’s okay too, because he sees the way you take desperate hold of the sheets, the way your eyes roll backwards just slightly, the way you strain against his heavy hand to arch your back. Gotta tell you, sweetness, I imagined you under me a thousand and one ways but this one, right now? Tops the list. You ready to beg for me?

Do it. Do it and end your pleasurable torment. Do it and be released from the pressure, the coiling want. Surrender to him. Let him have you.

The white hot rush of your orgasm is not unexpected to him, his curling, cruel fingers having found the sweetness of your g-spot, but — you, too busy climbing the ranks to think of your own pleasure, too busy demanding your due from an unjust world explore your own warmth beyond that of a memory of a college hookup you would rather forget — you left breathless and wanton in the heat of the explosion he draws out of you, mewling something desperate and pleading against your own will and the song of it fills his ears like it’s all he’s ever wanted. There it is, and I thought we’d be here all night. A thumb flickers over the nerves at your entrance and you practically jump, something between a yelp and a moan escaping your lips.

First one’s just a treat, sweetness. Now on, you cum when I say you do, understand?

You nod.

Oh you nod, and you are lost, here and now. Sensitive and broken and there is so little of that steel spine here, writhing in his sheets and ohyou don’t know the things you do to him.

Think you can go again, sweetness? He’s purring, smug, twisting fingers stretching you slowly, muttering under his breath about how fucking tight you are around his fingers, how good you’re going to feel for him, and the smugness on his face is slowly fading into a dark consternation, brows furrowed like he’s somehow angry at you for being plush and delicate and fuckable.

You’re almost begging him to stop, and yet the pressure is building again, the twisting, coiling heat that leaves you breathless and mewling and he looks like he might be trying to immortalize this moment forever. Say it, sweetness. Say you need me. Beg me for my cock.

That’s it.

That’s what you need to, you need to beg, you need to give in. No more fighting, no more arguing no more —

Please…

Please what, sweetness, come on now. You got a way with words. The snarl is so barely contained.

Please, Captain, please just…

What do you need, sweetness? The fingers are relentless, the buzz in your nerves is overwhelming, you can barely even hear yourself talk, much less him.

Please just fuck me, Captain, I need your cock! It’s hurried and it’s crude and it’s desperate and it’s exactly what he wants as just another wall crumbles and you fall off your pedestal right into his arms.

He’s barely able to resist the buck of his hips, the need to be inside you, the knowledge that you are soft and velvet and you could be all over his senses just like this.

When did he free his cock? You don’t know, you just know it’s practically salvation when he sinks into you, when he fills you like you’ve been desperate for and Oh sweetness…pours from his lips just as you hiss out something like praise right back at him.

You’re so full and he’s so gentle, at first, like you’re made of crystal in his arms, like the slow shifting of his hips might have you shattering underneath him if he’s not careful. Cradling you, even, sliding your legs around his narrow hips as he leans in and takes a hungry kiss from your wanting, whimpering mouth.

Love this look on you, all wrapped around me, whispered low and slow into your ear, sweetness you have no idea how good you look…

Melt into those compliments, melt into him, because the way he’s holding you is divine and you can feel him so deep in you it’s making your head spin. When did your arms end up around him? When did you start clinging to him like an anchor, start winding your fingers through his hair, start leaving the marks of your nails on his back to the sound of his own needy groaning?

He noses your cheek and leaves a mark of ownership on your neck with hungry lips, knowing you’ll bruise a beautiful flower right over your pulsebeat and continuing the steady assault on your nerves, cunt-first.

Harder. Faster. More.

And oh, sweetness, you do shatter.

You shatter all around him, you shatter into something divine and rapturous, full of him and filled with him and he cums so deep inside you as you do, still fucking you through your joined climax, hips rutting and breath hitching and nearly furious at you for the way his vision whites out too, the way he feels like he can Never get enough and so he hisses that at you like an accusation while his thoughts reorient back to reality, back to smugness, back to the control you took from him while he tried to strip you of yours.

In the end, as he pulls away from you and sinks to the side of you, watching your sweet expression as you return to the reality of your new situation, he is satisfied… thoroughly.

Oh yeah, I think we can make this a working relationship, Counsel.

[milazka]

not the greatest feeling ever | 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝.

the less i know the better masterlist

main masterlist

summary: fuck it, i’m not doing a summary, i’m so bad at it. oh! there’s smut btw.

warnings: smut, cursing, mentions of blood, underrage drinking

last thought: i’m proud of this one, took me a lot of time to write, but i think it was worth it! enjoy your reading! love, milz.

─── ° • ❀ ───

The gentle breeze twirls her golden locks in all directions. She hums the lyrics of You never can tell, having watched Pulp Fiction for the hundredth time last night. Her irises are fixed to the slightly damp roadside covered with fresh fallen leaves from this morning rainstorm. The last rays of sunlight caress her baby-like skin as they disappear into the horizon, painting the sky in a mixture of orange and rose. 

“C’mon grandpa, you’re slow as hell!” she teases Marcus, turning her head back to stick her tongue out at him. Standing on his skateboard, he sends her the finger, scraping the pavement with his over-used black vans to gain speed and eventually catch up with her. 

“That’s how the turtle won the race, dumbass,” he gently nudges her shoulder with his hand as he rides his board besides her. She gives a sharp turn of the handlebars to move her tires out of the sand and back on the pavement, giving him a death glare. 

“I almost fell in the ditch, shithead!” he simply laughs, his head falling backward. His dark colored hairs, normally slicked back, are ruffled by the warm September wind, giving him a laid back look that fits him perfectly. She adores hearing his laugh; it's one of the purest and most delightful sounds. It was only recently that she heard him laugh again, having not heard it for months after the day they lost the third musketeer of their trio. It was one of the hardest moments of their lives, but sharing this kind of experience brought them closer than ever. Charlie was there for him when he hit rock bottom, stroking his back while he cried on the shower floor, freezing water running down their damped bodies. She was also by his side the first time he went to therapy, soothingly squeezing his hand before he entered the office.

“If someone had to fall in a ditch, it would be me.”

“You know that Max and I made bet on how long it would take you to fall in a ditch?” she replies, checking his reaction at the corner of her cerulean eyes. He grins. 

“How much did you bet?” he curiously asks, one eyebrow arched. 

“Fifty bucks,” his eyes almost snap out of their sockets. He stops, stepping off his board.

“Fifty bucks?! That’s insulting, thought I was worth more than that,” he shouts as she makes a u-turn, retracing her steps, stopping in front of him.

“I’ll give you half of it if you wait ‘till June,” Charlie sarcastically says to him, elbows leaning on the handlebars of her bicycle. He caught a glimpse of light in her gaze; a twinkle of amusement he always finds in the corners of her softly crinkled eyes when she smiles truthfully.

“Deal,” he winks at her, drawing a small laugh from her slightly parted lips. He picks up Charlie's polaroid from the basket at the front of her bike, signaling for her to ride so he can immortalize the moment for her. Marcus knows she keeps those famous polaroids in an old converse box as a source of happiness; they're memories of moments she doesn't want to forget. 

He takes the little camera to his eyes, snapping a picture when Charlie turns her head to the side to look at him, smiling like there is no tomorrow. As the picture is slowly developing, he hears a squeal of tires and a squeal of surprise from the distance. 

“Fuck Charlie!” he shouts, running towards her as she sits, holding firmly her right forearm. His heart tightens at the sight of her painful face, her traits are torn by pain and he can see tears gathering at the corner of her squinted blue eyes. Marcus hates to see her in pain; he knows she's not the type to complain about anything so when he sees her azure eyes filling with water, he knows it's serious. 

“You got a few scratches,” he whispers, running his eyes over her legs and arms. “We’ll go to your house and clean you up, okay?” she nods, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. Marcus tucks his skateboard under his arm, grabbing the handlebars and seat of Charlie's bike simultaneously.

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“Hold still,” his hazel eyes are focused on the mid-depth cut on her forearm. His bushy eyebrows furrowed, giving him a severe, almost cold sober look. She takes a big gulp of the rich whiskey she borrowed from her father's secret stash. 

“Oh fucking hell!” she swears between her clenched teeth when the rubbing alcohol makes contact with the exposed flesh of her forearm. “That’s not the greatest feeling ever,” she whimpers, her forehead resting on his shoulder covered by his green olive shirt. 

“I know, angel, I know,” he runs his hand through her blonde hair, gently stroking her scalp in a soothing way. She keeps her head resting against his shoulder, holding back the tears that threaten to run down her flushed cheeks.

“I’m usually the one taking care of you,” he knows it refers as much to all the times he fell off his skateboard as it does to when he hit rock bottom when their friend passed away. Charlie isn't used to being taken care of; she has always been able to look after herself without anyone's help.

Crying is for the weak.

She swallows her tears, putting her mask back on with a slight smile.

“Your new neighbor saw me fall,” she changes the subject, pausing to take another gulp directly from the whisky bottle. “Great way to make a first impression,” a light laugh escapes from her lips, but she halts when she notices his gaze turning away almost discreetly. “What’s wrong?” 

Over the years, she has learned to read him like the palm of her hand; she knows he looks away to the left when he is hiding something from her and that he scrapes the back of his neck when he is embarrassed.

“I-I had sex with her,” he blurts out, avoiding her gaze while he still applies pressure on the bandage covering the wound on her forearm. 

“Holy shit,” her eyes widened, not expecting this kind of disclosure. “Wait, what about Padma?” 

“You know she is not my girlfriend, Charlz,” he sighs, finally sustaining her non-judgmental azure irises. It' s one of the things he likes about her; she never judges him and even if she did, he wouldn't know since she hides it so well. 

“Was it good?” she does not insist about Padma, knowing perfectly well that she is the first one to know. He doesn't answer, looking thoughtful as if a million thoughts are running through his head. He steals the bottle of alcohol from her, gulping down a few ounces of the throat-burning liquid.

“What aren’t you telling me, Marcus?” 

He shuts his eyes, exhaling loudly.

“I don’t know if I was good… God, I don’t even know if she came!” her heart tightens; he looks distraught and she knows that this is a big deal to him, after all, he just lost his virginity. He breathes heavily, his jaw as tightly clenched as his fists.

“Show me.” 

“What?!” he opens one eye, eyebrows furrowed as if he was questioning if she was being serious.

“Show me what you did, I’ll tell you if it’s good,” 

“You’re drunk, Charlz…I don-” he stops as soon as her silver rings coated hands grip the hem of his olive shirt, grazing the soft skin of his lower abdomen with her fingertips. Sitting on her knees, she brings her head up to his neck, pressing her lips against the skin. The feeling of her wet lips on his burning skin sends a shiver running through his spine. 

“I’m sober enough to remember everything and give you my consent,” she whispers to his ear and he almost moans when she slightly nibbles his lobe. Her hands slips to the back of his neck, forcing him to hover over her as she lies on her back.

Both his hands are lingering on the buckle of her belt, struggling to undo it. She clutches his chin with one hand, plunging her reassuring gaze into his. He looks nervous, his hands trembling slightly when he takes off her jeans. She presses her lips to his Adam's apple, feeling him tense up at first, but relax as she sensuously slides her tongue up to his sculpted jaw.

“A-are you good with two figers?” he nervously asks, his right hand resting on the edge of her panties. 

“Yes,” he hesitantly slips his hand into her panties, parting her legs with his other hand before sliding his index and middle fingers up and down her folds.  She can see him blush when an almost quiet moan escapes her lips at the feeling of his fingers inside her core. He pumps them in and out slowly, as if he was afraid to hurt her.

“Try to curl them in a ‘come here’ movement,” she demonstrates with her own fingers. He nods and mimics her actions, making her whimper under him. 

“That feels good,” she encourages him. “What did you do next?” she softly asks, rubbing her thumb against his cheek to sooth him. 

“Hum, well, we-um, you know, did it,” he says, blushing like a little child who just got his first kiss with the popular girl. 

“You didn’t go down on her?” she asks, looking quite shocked. He seemed clueless. “I mean, you didn’t use your mouth?” 

“Uh no, should I have?” 

“You boys really know nothing about female pleasure,” she sights. “Try watching lesbian porn next time, you will learn A LOT more,” He almost chokes, not expecting to hear this come out of his best friend's lips while his fingers are still inside her. They've always been comfortable with each other, but not to the point of talking about the kind of porn they listen to. The idea of her best friend watching porn and getting herself off almost made him cum in his pants.

“You do know what a cunniligus is, right?” 

“God, Charlz, I’m not five years old! Yes, I know what it is!” he exclaims, his ego lightly bruised by her question. 

“Well, show me then, playboy,” she challenges him, a cocky smile slipping on her lips. the alcohol going slightly to her head.

He pulls her to the edge of the mattress, kneeling at the foot of the bed between her legs. His lips kiss the skin on the inside of her thighs, sucking it until he sees a dark red mark appear. He gets rid of her underwear in the blink of an eye  before placing her legs over his shoulders. He darts his tongue out of his mouth, licking a long strip between her folds without giving her the chance to acknowledge what was going on. He stops once his tongue rests on the bundle of nerves, licking around it in a circular motion.

“Fuck,” she moans. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“You really think I've never watched lesbian porn?” he teases her, biting the inside of her thigh, making her body jolt. He dives back his head to her core, sucking her clit into his mouth.

At leats he know where the clit is.

"Oh my god Marcus," she moans, squirming against his grip. He places his arm over her lower abdomen, pinning her body against the mattress. She can feel his two fingers sliding back into her core, the sudden feeling causing her hips to buck up against his face.  

“Are you gonna be a good girl and cum for me, hun?” he praises her, fingers curling inside her just like she taught him. She could barely feel herself, letting out a series of high-pitched moans as Marcus tongue was working on her bundle of nerves. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” she whimpers, her head pressed down against the matress. Her fingers tangle in his dark hair, tucking at the roots as she let out a cry, the euphoric feeling taking over her body for a moment. Marcus looks up to see her eyes shut tightly, her legs shaking on his shoulders. He can feel her core pulsating around his fingers as she comes down from her high.

He took a mental picture of her, engraving this moment in his memory forever.

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taglist; @cognacdelights @ellegotohell @janedartist

[ilici]

a night to remember.

Summary: After a long 4 months of just bickering, they finally decide to meet up. (Second part to 'Pretty Little Lies')

NSFW MINORS DNI!!

Warnings: Choking, cockwarming, hair pulling.

Word Count: 2892

Dream had enough of the two bickering at each other, he finally slammed his desk with his hand, making the two come to a halt.��“Will you two fucking shut the hell up?” He asked annoyed, and Y/N just scoffed while looking away from the screen. “You two have reached my breaking point.” He said, seeing George just look away and Y/N discord icon stop glowing green besides the few shuffling coming from her side. “All you two do now is just bicker, we get it you guys have sexual tension but for the love of God, please just shut the fuck up.” He begged, while George’s ears burned at the mention of sexual tension. Opening his mouth to speak, nothing came out as Y/N was the first to speak up, “If I buy a plane ticket to go and visit the UK will that help you?” She asked sarcastically, and Dream sighed in relief, “Yes! Yes it fucking would!” he said loudly, while Sapnap just listened in noting to himself that he saw George’s eyes light up at the thought of Y/N visiting him. “I was joking but sheesh fine, I will.” She mumbled, and George looked between the sleeping Dream icon, and the Coraline icon that belonged to Y/N.

“Do I not have a say in this?” George finally spoke up, and raised an eyebrow that disappeared behind his long hair. Sapnap now laughed dryly, “Don’t act as if you didn’t enjoy the idea of Y/N coming to you, you know damn well your eyes lit up at the mention of it.” He said, and George just shrunk down in defeat while Dream laughed at the boy’s reaction. “There I bought the plane ticket.” She said, and they heard a ding indicating someone had joined the call, “Why the fuck did I just get a message saying I bought a plane ticket to the UK?” Quackity asked, and Y/N laughed loudly, “It’s for me but I used your money since you owed me anyways.” She told him, while Quackity just stared at his screen in shock. “That’s it I’m leaving.” He said, leaving the call right afterwards. George was now silent, and playing with the strings on his hoodie, “How long will you be staying?” Sapnap asked, and Y/N hummed leaning closer to her mic, “About three months, I want to meet everyone else, not just George here.”

Nodding, Sapnap seemed satisfied with the answer, “Wear protection.” Dream said, and George snapped his gaze up looking back at the screen, “Shut up.” He muttered, embarrassed while Y/N just laughed to cover up the fact that she too was embarrassed. “Well, I leave for the UK in two days, I still have to find a place to stay.” She explained, and George rubbed his chin before he came to a decision in his head, “You can stay with me, I recently moved into an apartment that has two rooms, you can stay in there. Although I won’t be home until later when you arrive mainly because I’ll be recording a video with Tommy and Phil.” He told Y/N, and she just listened, “Alright, then that’s settled.” She said before she grew confused, “How will I get to the house?” She asked and George shrugged, “I could have Tommy and his dad pick you up when he comes to pick me up.” He said, and Y/N nodded even though no one could see her. 

“Sounds good to me.” She said, “Well I will arrive around 9 am, so.” She muttered, looking at her phone, “That’s perfect because Tommy said he’d be around at my apartment at 9:30, and the airport is only a 20 minute drive away.” He informed her, and she nodded, shooting Tommy a quick text and telling him to keep it under wraps since he was streaming. The other two in the call were silent, enjoying the time where George and Y/N weren’t arguing. “Well I better go, I need to go pack and I also need to fix my sleep schedule.” She sighed out, before saying her goodbye’s. Leaving the call, everything hit her like a brick. She was going to leave to see George in two days. Hearing her phone ring, she saw Sapnap was calling her, answering it she put it on speaker so she could hear him while she got ready to pack. “Hey Sap.” She said, and Sapnap greeted her back, “I was wondering if I could see your face before you leave to see George.” He asked, in a very rushed way which was difficult for Y/N to keep up with.

Laughing to herself, she shrugged as Sapnap was one of her best friends and she planned on face revealing to him anyway. Clicking the FaceTime option, she propped her phone up so he could see her packing. Sapnap answered it, only showing half of his face, before his eyes widened at Y/N. She changed a bit from what George had described four months prior, “Wow, George was right. You are hot.” He said, and Y/N laughed, “Although you look a bit different apparently.” He said trying to pinpoint what looked different on her, “Oh, my hair is longer and I also dyed the the underneath of my hair.” She told him, and he nodded noting that her hair did look different from what George said. “Are you nervous?” He asked her, trying to keep the conversation going and Y/N shrugged, “A bit, mainly because I feel like when we meet things will be awkward, and we will manage to argue.” She said, while Sapnap just nodded in understanding.

“Well, if you ask me, I think meeting Tommy is going to be worse, mainly because he get’s to see your face.” He told her, and Y/N grimaced at the thought of the loud child bragging about seeing her face. “Don’t remind me.” She grumbled, while Sapnap laughed at her reaction, “Well, that’s all I need to pack.” She said after a three hour long call with her friend. “I’ll see you later, sleep well.” Sapnap said, before ending the call leaving Y/N to her own thoughts. Shooting Dream a text, asking her for advice that she’d read when she woke up. Sighing, she laid down in bed looking up at her ceiling that seemed bare to her now ever since she took off the stars. “God why did I do this?” She muttered to herself, covering her eyes with her arm before drifting off to sleep.

Finally, it was the day she was leaving for the UK. She was at the airport with her two suitcases waiting to board the plane. She had coffee in her hand as it was super early for her, and she was on call with Callahan who didn’t speak back but would text responses in return. “Callahan, I board in seven minutes holy shit.” She said, starting to panic a little, and Callahan quickly tried to calm her down making some typos along the way. “Okay I can do this.” She whispered to herself, and Callahan sent a message telling her that she’d be alright and he’d be here for her when she landed. Callahan planned on staying on the call, even though he’d be left alone for some hours. Their plan was as soon as she lands, she’d join the call and let him know she had landed. Thankfully he’d be awake as he was busy coding stuff for the new manhunt. “Well that’s my plane, I’ll see you after I land.” She told him, and he sent a quick goodbye before she left the call.

Y/N got on the plane and decided she’d sleep the entire plane ride. She had thankfully gotten first class, so she had privacy. Reclining back, she put on the movie that seemed least interesting so she wouldn’t get engaged in it. Shortly falling asleep, she woke up a couple times and would restart the movie if it had ended. Finally, after what seemed like days she finally heard the voice saying they were landing. Stretching she groaned hearing her body crack, and got up when they officially landed. Walking out and going to get her luggage, she went to get something to eat and a drink She joined the call back to see that Karl was also in the call along with Dream. “Hey guys, I landed.” She spoke up, and she got a response from Callahan first, and Karl soon unmuted, “That’s good, I hope things go well.” He said, while Dream finally unmuted, “I was about to head to bed, but I’m glad you made it safely.” He said, before he muted again going back to whatever it was he was doing. Karl and Y/N spoke for a bit, till she got a message from Tommy saying he was here. 

Leaving the call, she walked out and looked around for the tall teenager, and finally spotted him looking at his phone with his face covered by a mask. “Hello Tommy.” She said, and Tommy looked up from his phone, seeing the girl approach him without a mask, figuring it was because she had food and a drink. Walking over to her, he pulled her into a hug, “Hello Y/N, I can’t wait to brag to George that I met you before him.” He said while the girl rolled her eyes, as someone grabbed her luggage that she was struggling to bring as her hands were full from the drink and food. “I bet.” She said, and they all got into his car, as she was full on jet lagged. “You can sleep, I’ll wake you up when we get there.” The older male spoke up, and she thanked him, closing her eyes to let the sleep consume her. Feeling herself being picked up, she groaned a bit but kept her eyes closed wanting to go back to sleep.

Hearing muffled voices she could decipher some of the sentences, but the rest were just gibberish to her, “Let her sleep, I’ll wake her up when I get back.” She heard someone say, before she fell back asleep. George looked down at the sleeping girl and rolled his eyes, “First day here and she’s already getting treated like a princess.” He muttered under his breath sarcastically, as he had to carry her into the guest room. Getting up and leaving, he couldn’t help but think of what was to come. After 6 hours of hanging out, George walked into his apartment, and was shocked to see Y/N on the couch watching some random movie. “Hello Georgie.” She spoke, and George just looked at her, “Seems like you’ve made yourself at home.” He said walking over to the couch and sat down beside her, keeping his distance. Y/N looked over at him and her lips tugged up into a smirk, “What are you smirking about?” George asked, looking over at her.

“A little birdie told me that you said you’d give me a night to remember.” She told him, and George froze before he looked over at her once more, “I’m going to kill Sapnap.” He said gritting his teeth, and Y/N shrugged, turning her attention to the movie. “Why don’t you give me a night to remember then Georgie? Hm?” George now clenched his jaw as he turned his head grabbing Y/N’s jaw forcefully making her look over at him. “Someone’s being a bit cocky.” George said, and Y/N just looked at him and groaned when George moved his hand down wrapping it around her neck. “Not so cocky now, are we?” He teased, leaning forwards and chuckled into her ear. Y/N was genuinely shocked at how quick he switched. “It’s the first day, and you’re already wanting me to fuck the shit out of you.” He mumbled, and Y/N shivered, letting out a soft whine.

“Don’t act like you don’t want to.” She bit back, and George just looked at her before laughing dryly, “Who said I don’t want to?” He told her, as he grabbed some of her hair, forcing her head to lean back. Tightening his grip around her neck she whimpered out, and closed her eyes, clenching her thighs together. George noticed this and smirked, “Someone’s enjoying this.” He said, and Y/N was about to let out some curses but she bit her tongue to hold herself back. Moving his hand away from her throat, he started unbuckling his belt while Y/N watched him in a daze. “Stop staring and strip.” He demanded and Y/N immediately obeyed, stripping off her clothes. George looked at her body, and he bit his lips, “Come on then.” He said patting his now bare lap and Y/N quickly straddled his lap. 

“Since you’ve been so rude every time we talk, maybe it’s time I fuck some sense into you.” George whispered to her, as he grabbed her hips lifting her up so she could easily slide down onto his dick. “You’re on the pill right?” He asked, and Y/N just nodded her head, before she let out a loud moan at the feeling of George stretching her out. He leaned his head back, letting out a slight groan at the feeling. Tightening his grip on her hips when she tried to, she groaned, “Why?” She whined, and George just leaned forward moving her hair out of the way as he kissed the back of her neck, “You are to stay like this until I feel like fucking you.” He told her, and Y/N shivered at the kiss only listening because she enjoyed this feeling. “Such a good girl, I figured you would be a brat since you act like one.” His voice rang through her mind, and Y/N just whimpered leaning her head back on his shoulder.

“George, please I can’t wait any longer.” She begged, and George just smirked before he lifted her off of him, and threw her on the other side of his couch. Y/N yelped as she was thrown, before she had the chance to raise up George had a hold of her hips making her ass stick up in the air. Pushing down on her back so she was perfectly arching her back, he was holding onto her hips making sure he left bruises. Slamming into her, Y/N moaned out loudly, gripping one of the stray pillows that was near her. Biting her bottom lip, George kept relentlessly pounding into her while Y/N was now a blabbering mess. George enjoyed this as he reached forwards grabbing a handful of her hair and tugged on it. “You look so beautiful like this, so sweaty for me.” He teased, while Y/N just let out an incoherent ‘fuck you’. 

Not liking this, George brought his hand up and slammed it down onto her ass. Letting out a small scream, Y/N felt herself grow closer, and George reached around now toying with her clit. He himself was feeling close to his climax, and Y/N could tell from how sloppy his thrusts were getting. Using the hand that had her hair in it, he moved his hand up grabbing her neck bringing her up so she was against his chest. “Fuck George-” She muttered, leaning her head back against George’s shoulder much like earlier. George gave sloppy kisses along her jawline and neck, as they both let out a loud groan. Y/N mumbled words, and George let out a quick, “Fuck” as they both felt themself cum. Pulling out, George watched as some of it leaked out and onto her thighs.

Wiping away the sweat that was on his forehead, he picked her up, “Have you seen the bathroom?” He asked Y/N, who only shook her head, “You’re about to see it now.” He told her as the two made their way into the bathroom. It had a shower, and a bathtub, “Pick which one.” He told her, and Y/N looked between both and pointed to the tub, “I would’ve chosen the shower if it weren’t for how my legs could give out at any moment.” She whispered embarrassed, and George chuckled as he sat her down on the side of the tub, her feet in the tub. “Let me how you want the water to feel.” He said, turning it on and Y/N waited till it felt good, and she nodded, “That’s good.” She said, as she sunk down into the tub.

George smiled at her, as he went over to the cabinet under the sink to grab the bubble mixture. Pouring some into the water, he watched as Y/N mixed it around which formed bubbles. Sinking down into the water, he brought Y/N over to his body, and let her relax against him. “Don’t tell Dream or Sapnap, they had a bet. I really don’t want to lose.” He said, while Y/N lightly laughed at his words, as he massaged her shoulders. “I’m still going to be here for 3 more months, so they are bound to know it happened at one point.” She shrugged, and George hummed in agreement.