#my black mask figure arrived!

[tratatdragonlord]

Show me your true from!

[rafecameronssl4t]

First Impressions || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: the meeting in which your parents announce your arranged marriage to Rafe.

Warnings: mention of smoking, not much else ???

Word count: 1,724

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

Your black Porsche roars down the gravel drive, tires screeching as they skid to a halt just in front of the grand entrance to your family estate. The car’s abrupt stop sends a shower of tiny stones in every direction, the sound cutting through the quiet morning.

With a sigh, you push open the door and step out, the morning air crisp against your skin. Taking one last drag from your cigarette, you savour the moment before dropping it to the ground, the glowing ember snuffed out beneath the heel of your designer shoe.

A quick glance at your watch—10:20am. Twenty minutes late. You were supposed to be here on time, but the delay feels inevitable. With a flicker of annoyance, you brush a strand of hair from your face and stride toward the front door, where the familiar figure of your family’s butler awaits.

“Miss Y/n, it’s good to see you again,” he greets you with a warm smile, the lines of age deepening around his eyes. “Likewise,” you respond, managing a small smile in return. The butler steps aside and opens the door, allowing you to enter the cool, polished interior.

Your heels click sharply against the marble floor as you make your way toward the formal dining room, each step echoing in the vast, silent hall. As you approach the double doors, two servants stand ready, pulling them open to reveal the scene inside.

Your parents sit at the table, their expressions betraying nothing as they notice your arrival. Alongside them are three unfamiliar figures, their backs turned to you, leaving you momentarily confused as to who they were. You exhale softly, bracing yourself, and walk into the room.

“Pleasure to have you finally arrive,” your mother remarks, her voice edged with a tight-lipped grin. Your father doesn’t even glance your way, his attention fixed elsewhere. With a deliberate movement, you stride to the table, tossing your Lady Dior bag onto the polished surface with a loud clatter.

“The pleasure is all mine, mother,” you reply, your voice thick with restrained anger as you take your seat. Finally, your gaze falls on the three guests seated before you—the Camerons. Your eyes land on Rafe, and for a moment, you’re taken aback.

He looks different, more rugged, with his hair shaved off, giving him a harder, more defined look. His eyes, however, remain downcast, focused on the table as if he’s avoiding meeting your gaze. “My, how beautiful you have gotten, my dear,” Ward Cameron’s voice breaks through the tension, drawing your attention to him as he regards you with a smile.

You force a smile in response to Ward’s compliment, though it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Cameron,” you reply, keeping your tone polite but distant. The tension in the room is palpable, every gesture, every word carefully measured. Your mother’s gaze flickers between you and Rafe, a subtle hint of expectation in her eyes, while your father remains silent, his face a mask of indifference.

As you settle into your seat, the silence stretches, heavy and uncomfortable. You feel the weight of the moment pressing down on you, the unspoken purpose of this meeting hanging in the air like a storm cloud. The Camerons, your parents, Rafe—all of them waiting for something, though none are willing to break the silence.

Finally, your mother clears her throat, her voice cutting through the quiet. “We thought it was time for you to meet again,” she begins, her tone carefully neutral. “It’s been a while since you’ve seen each other, and given the circumstances, we felt it was appropriate to… reconnect.”

You glance at Rafe, his eyes still fixed on the table. The last time you saw him, things were different—less complicated, less strained. But now, the distance between you feels like a chasm, impossible to bridge. You wonder if he feels it too, this cold, empty space that has grown between you.

“I suppose it’s been a long time,” you murmur, more to yourself than anyone else. The words hang in the air, unanswered, as you try to find something—anything—to say that might ease the tension. Ward shifts in his seat, his gaze settling on you with a calculating intensity.

“Rafe has been doing well,” he says, as if the words are meant to reassure you, though they have the opposite effect. “He’s matured a great deal since you last saw him.” At this, Rafe finally looks up, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since you walked into the room. There’s something in his expression—an apology, perhaps, or maybe just regret—but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the same distant, unreadable look he’s worn since you arrived.

“And you, Miss Y/n,” Ward continues, his tone smooth, almost too smooth. “I trust you’ve been well?” You nod, forcing another smile. “Yes, quite well, thank you.” The words feel hollow, a formality that barely covers the unease simmering beneath the surface.

Your mother, sensing the need to steer the conversation, jumps in. “We’ve been discussing some… arrangements,” she says, her voice careful, as if she’s choosing each word with precision. “Given the history between our families, we thought it best to ensure that both sides are… satisfied with the outcome.”

Your heart sinks as the true purpose of this meeting becomes clear. This isn’t just a casual reunion or an attempt to reconnect old acquaintances. This is a negotiation, a transaction between two powerful families, and you and Rafe are the bargaining chips.

You glance at Rafe again, searching his face for any sign of how he feels about this, but his expression remains guarded. Whatever thoughts are running through his mind, he’s keeping them well hidden. Your father finally speaks, his voice low and authoritative.

“This is an important moment for both of our families. I trust you both understand the gravity of the situation.” The weight of his words settles over you, a cold, heavy pressure that makes it hard to breathe. You want to protest, to argue that this isn’t what you want, that it isn’t fair to either of you—but you know it would be pointless. In this world, duty and obligation come before personal desires.

Rafe’s voice cuts through your thoughts, quiet but steady. “We understand,” he says, his tone betraying nothing of what he might actually be feeling. Your mother smiles, a thin, satisfied smile. The silence in the room grows heavier as your father's words sink in, confirming what you’ve both known was coming.

This is more than just a meeting; it’s the formal beginning of the arrangement that has been hanging over you for months. The marriage. The merging of your two families. You glance at Rafe, catching the flicker of frustration in his eyes before he looks away, jaw tightening in silent protest. It’s clear he’s not happy about this, and a part of you understands his reluctance.

But for you, there’s no surprise, no anger—just a deep, overwhelming numbness. This is what your life was always meant to be: a marriage arranged for the benefit of your family, a union to produce heirs, to continue the legacy. There was never any illusion of choice.

As your mother and Ward exchange pleasantries, discussing the finer details of the arrangement, you find yourself tuning out, your gaze drifting to the large windows that overlook the manicured gardens outside. The sunlight streaming in feels distant, cold.

Rafe shifts in his seat beside you, the movement drawing your attention back to the table. His expression is tense, a mixture of resignation and barely concealed resentment. He doesn’t want this—at least, not like this—but he’s trapped in the same web of expectations that binds you.

Your father’s voice breaks through your thoughts, stern and final. “The wedding will take place in two months. The arrangements have already begun.” Two months. The words hang in the air, sealing your fate. You glance at Rafe again, hoping for some sign of how he’s processing this, but his face is unreadable, the brief glimpse of frustration now replaced by a mask of indifference.

For a moment, you wonder what he’s thinking—whether he’s angry, scared, or just as numb as you are. But you quickly push the thought aside. It doesn’t matter how either of you feel. This is what you were born for, raised for. This is your duty.

“We’ll be ready,” Rafe finally says, his voice clipped and devoid of emotion. It’s a statement of fact, not a promise, and you feel the weight of it settle over you like a shroud. Your mother nods approvingly, while Ward offers a pleased smile. “I’m sure you will be,” he replies, as if Rafe’s compliance is exactly what he expected.

The conversation shifts to practicalities—guest lists, venues, and dates—but it all feels distant to you, like watching a play from behind thick glass. You nod and smile at the appropriate moments, playing the part you’ve been trained for your entire life, but inside, there’s only emptiness. This marriage, this life, was decided long before you had a say in it.

When the meeting finally ends, and the Camerons prepare to leave, Rafe stands, his movements slow and deliberate. For a moment, his eyes meet yours, and in them, you see a flicker of something—anger, perhaps, or maybe just resignation. But just as quickly, it’s gone, replaced by the same cold detachment you’ve come to expect.

Ward clasps your father’s hand in a firm handshake. “We look forward to the wedding,” he says, his tone full of false warmth. “Likewise,” your father replies, though his eyes remain hard. As the Camerons depart, leaving you and your parents alone in the dining room, you feel a wave of exhaustion wash over you.

The future, once a distant inevitability, now looms as a stark reality—a reality you must face with Rafe by your side, whether you want to or not. The weight of it settles over you like a suffocating blanket, each breath growing heavier as the room seems to close in around you.

Your mother’s voice slices through the thick silence, her tone sharp and unforgiving. "How many times must I remind you to break that wretched habit of smoking?" Her eyes narrow in disapproval, her gaze like a blade that cuts through any pretense of warmth. You feel the familiar irritation rise within you, fighting the urge to roll your eyes at her constant nagging.

"I could smell it the moment you walked in, and I’m certain the Camerons did as well," she continues, her words dripping with disdain as she takes a deliberate sip of her drink. The crystal glass clinks against her teeth, a harsh sound that echoes in the tense air. You lower your gaze to your lap, your fingers twisting together in a futile attempt to keep your composure.

The reprimand feels like a ritual by now, one you’ve endured countless times, yet it never fails to sting. Your father’s voice cuts through the tension, sharp and unyielding. "Such behavior will not be tolerated once you're married," he declares, his tone cold and final. "Respectable young women preparing to have a family do not indulge in such habits."

His words hit you like a slap, a stark reminder of the life being imposed upon you—one where even your small rebellions are to be eradicated. Your father stands, his movements deliberate and composed as he smooths down his blazer. He doesn’t look at you as he speaks, his tone firm and unyielding. "Yes, Father," you reply quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper as you sit there, trying to disappear into the chair.

Your parents leave without another word, their footsteps echoing in the empty room, leaving you alone in the suffocating silence. The echo of their disapproval lingers, mixing with the cold reality of your future, a future where even your small, defiant pleasures are not your own.

You sit there for a long moment, the weight of it all pressing down on you until it feels as though you might break under the strain. But you don’t. Instead, you swallow the bitterness, pushing it deep down where it festers quietly. This is your life now, the one you were born into, the one you must live whether you want to or not.

[clawsdevour]

fogged up

wc: 1.9k content warning: smut, post-time skip, established relationship, shower sex, small mention of slapping, oral (m!receiving), reader x kiyoomi sakusa, oneshot, not proofread

note: to be honest. this plot and like little scenario has BEEN simmering in my mind since like 2020 LMFAO i jsut never started writing until this summer..

ꕮ * ׂ.﹑

It was currently 7:33 PM, and the other day you invited your boyfriend, Kiyoomi Sakusa, to sleep over at your place for the night since he’s got volleyball practice near where you resided. He’s supposed to arrive around eight which is usually the time he gets out. 

Twenty-seven minutes.. Good amount of time for an everything shower before he gets here, you thought to yourself. You’re grabbing the cute pjs you saved to wear for the night you invited him over, along with a pair of some lacy panties to add with your sleepwear if things get a bit intimate. 

The cold bathroom air hits your face when you twist open the knob and set your clothes on the marble counter. Turning on the water, as you wait for it to get warmer you start stripping yourself naked before hopping in and closing the glass door. 

You do the usual routine starting with double shampooing, a nice and hydrating hair mask, wash it off before letting your condition sit in your hair. Despite hearing all of the water shooting down onto you and the hitting the tiles, you heard something else from another part of your house. The front door. Someone got into your house. Fuck.. Is this gonna end up like that one movie where that girl dies in the bathroom?? Keep in mind, you lived alone. The door creaked to a close when you heard a heavy thud and footsteps heading towards the noise you created in the bathroom. 

You were just halfway into your everything shower when you saw the doorknob move side to side through the glass walls of your shower. The clunk of your handle slowly twisted the door open, from outside you’re staring at an eye that pierced back at you to which you knew who it was. Oh thank god, It’s just Kiyoomi!! Sighing in relief before you realized you’re completely left exposed, vulnerable and completely wet, trying to hastily cover up with just your hands.

“O-Oh.. I’m sorry” his husky voices mutters out, realizing you’re helpless naked and showering while he slams the door shut in awkwardness, still standing right outside. Both of you were in a bit of shock at the sudden interaction, the tension rose to its high even though you were separated by the door. 

“Wait Omi! Do you… wanna join me? You just got back from practice so you must be feeling really sweaty and gross right now!” peering your head out of the glass door to stare back at the blank wall that’s dividing you two. His head hung back up to ask through the walls if it was okay, to which you obliged. 

He creaks back open a sliver while asking you to excuse him for his intrusion. His tall muscular body walks in, dark eyes wide open, face slightly flushed and tried their hardest to resist seeing your bare figure covered with the sheen layer of water that glistened with every movement.

Kiyoomi brought in his clothing and set it aside next to yours as he began to undress in front of you, to which you watched from the corner of your eye while he strips his articles of clothing one by one. His lean long torso, and toned arms left you salivating. Especially when he slid down his boxers to reveal that he already had an erection that coiled out, a large and tall one at that, leaving you in shock while he’s a bit ashamed.

“I can’t help myself.” He’s standing face to face with you with the glass shower somewhat opened, looking down at you and your perky, shiny breasts. You let out a subtle giggle as you grabbed his hand to lead him in the shower with you. His deep black curls, saturated and drooped down as the water catches onto his thick hair.

Turning around to face the showerhead as you wash out the conditioner that was in your hair for a while, you felt Kiyoomi’s large hands hover around your slick waist. His head, in the crook of your neck planting a soft peck on your jaw. You felt his bare cock press and increase in size along the curve of your ass.

“Did you miss me at practice, Omi?” you could feel his mouth form into a small grin along your neck. He’s gradually sliding his dick up and down on the crevice of your ass, as he nods into you. One of his hands let go from your waist and slide up to your boob, feeling it up and flicking around your nipple as you let out small whines from his cheeky antics.

“How’d you know?” he’s moving his hand up from your nipple to your chin to position you for a kiss on the lips as you gaze back at his eyes that’re filled to the brim with lust and desire. The tapping sounds coming from the water hitting onto you two and the floor made it inaudible when you and Kiyoomi started to full on make out in the shower.

His hand on your waist eventually slid down to your slippery clit, rubbing it in slow sensational circles while you continue to receive his loving, sloppy kisses that enhanced your experience. You were the first to pull away from him to catch your breath while you turned around and kneeled in front of him to face his raging boner. He’s flushed to a rosy pink hue as you started to stroke his cock aggressively since the water made it easier to slide your fingers around his dick.

“Shit.. if you do that, I don’t know what I’m gonna end up doing with you.” His thumb reaches down once more, but to open your mouth while your undivided attention was set on him as he’s toying with your warm tongue that swirls around his calloused digit. When he took out his thumb from your slobbering mouth was when you started going down on his length. 

The warmth your mouth provided him was overwhelming, his hot breathless puffs ringing in the little heated glass room and mixed with the humidity. The amount of slick your cunt produced kept getting washed down by the water, but sucking him off made you feral and crave him even more as you bobbed your head repeatedly on it. His long fingers were buried in your sopping wet hair as he held your head to use your mouth like his own personal flesh toy.

His dick twitched like crazy in your mouth from the unbearable pleasure that he had to pull out before he came in your mouth. But you absolutely refused, you wanted all of his release in your mouth.

“Ha.. you’re kidding me…” he snickered whilst holding eye contact with you, your eyes penetrated his while he pumped his warm gooey cum into your mouth before taking it out while he watched you swallow it all down. Sticking your tongue out to playfully taunt him, he can’t help but snicker at how you just took it all like that down your throat.

“Put it in please, I can’t wait any longer Omi.. it’s been so long since you’ve been back” stepping closer to the glass wall of the shower, your hands spread across the glass that fogged, ass sticking out with the water shimmering as it runs down your back, your head is turnt to peep at him with eyes that begged with sin. 

“You’ll get what you want.” Kiyoomi splashed behind you as he closes in between the gap, his hands gripping your hips to get closer to his. You watch impatiently from behind as he’s lining up his tip with your slick entrance, the water making it a bit slippery before you felt your hole widen as his head presses into you, letting out an immense moan that rippled along the walls. 

“O-Omi..!” Moaning out his name as he starts to thrust his size into you, creating banging sounds that recoiled with the water that hits from above.

The side of your face pressed against the shower to watch him at work drilling into your pussy with all the wet squelching that echoed and mixed with sounds of the downpour. Your tits were pressed against the glass and moved whenever he pounded into you, creating foggy looking silhouettes around you. The shadows and your nipples squished around, as you’re able to watch this all go down in the mirror across from you.

His tightening grip was bruising, but you loved it. You also loved whenever he lands a finishing strike across your ass that stings a bright red on your cheek as if your ass was a volleyball that he spiked. Your whimpers and that lewd look on your face powers him further to fuck you even harder. Whenever you call out for him, he can’t help himself but pick up the pace to pleasure you even further.

Kiyoomi’s watching you get pounded by him in the mirror, enjoying every second of it. His soaking wet hair brushes against your skin whenever he peppers kisses along your back, while he smells the scent of clean soap wash off your body the more he pounds into you.

“You feel so fucking good you know that?” You babble out words that you couldn’t even make out the moment your slurred speech comes out of your mouth. Your hand reaches down for your clit to stimulate you further to get closer to your release which he noticed. Kiyoomi’s quick to grab ahold of your hand and keep it pressed against the glass as he continues to groan into your ear, saying you don’t need to do that when you’ve got him.

“M’not letting you cum alone.” Kiyoomi pauses for a brief moment before taking out his cock from your gaping hole, causing you to whimper from feeling so empty without him being in you.

When you turn around to face him with a slight pout on your face, he picks you up and slams you against the cold glass. Awoken from the mind numbing pleasure, your headspace is in for a slight shock when his slightly swollen lips meet yours for another long kiss as if he were a starved animal.

He’s backing away to slip back in his throbbing cock into your dripping entrance as he’s pressing your back further onto the glass walls of your shower. Kiyoomi’s holding onto you so tight, not letting you go anywhere as he continues to fuck you brainless, feeling all the sensations when your bodies continue to rub up against each other.

His twitching dick and your throbbing cunt, the lust in the atmosphere, the sounds that echo off your wet bodies as the shower runs, Kiyoomi’s almost at his end point. Both of you are sore and stimulated to the max as he releases his white cum into you, coating your plush gummy walls with his white paint. You’re both still, trying to pick back up your unmatched breathing.

“I’m sorry.. I got carried away,” he’s panting while pulling out, kissing your forehead as a gesture to ask for your forgiveness as you continue to cling onto his broad shoulders.

His essence seeps out of you and drips onto the bathroom tiles as it gets washed away due to the warm running water. You’re trying to regain your composure as he continues to hold you in his arms, Kiyoomi’s fingers moving away the stray wet hairs that clung onto your forehead while looking into your starry, but droopy eyes peer back into his while you mumble out an it’s okay. 

“You’re too beautiful” he whispers to you before setting you down to help finish washing you up before bed.

masterlist here

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Captain Price is completely oblivious to how attractive he is. Until Nikolai reminds him. For @lookoutrogue .

cw: none.

“He has no feckin’ idea,” Soap groused, slurping another mouthful of lager.

“Not a scooby. Pretty sure she could stick her tongue down his throat and he’d think she was lookin’ for advice on resuscitation technique.” Gaz slumped his chin into his palm and squinted.

“I mean, how’d’ye get tha’… oblivious?”

They had spent the last forty-five minutes since their arrival watching their captain entertain—or rather, be entertained by—a gaggle of young men and women seeking his attention. They were in one of those posh bars in central London where everyone seemed to want to get in everyone else’s knickers and it was nearly nine quid a pint. It was a bit bougie for their tastes, but it was one of the few places with a spare table near to where they needed to be.

“Dunno, but if she touches any further up his thigh she’s gonna end up grabbing a handful,” Gaz murmured, swirling the ice around in his gin and tonic.

“They’re hangin’ off his every word, like,” Soap threw his hand up in exasperation, “he’s talkin’ about sandin’ a feckin’ fence. Sanding. A. Fence. He ripped a lad’s throat open with a crowbar and rescued a foreign attaché of diplomats three days ago, but nope, it’s the Black and Decker that’s more interestin’.”

“That was a classified mission,” Ghost said quietly, cutting in with the low, unobstusive rumble that somehow snapped both Gaz and Soap to look at him. “Not exactly pick up line material.”

“Come off it, L.T. Like ye’ve never spun a yarn tae entertain,” Soap scoffed.

“Never.”

“Actually, I believe him,” Gaz said. “‘Sides, in that mask, it would come off more like a serial killer explainin’ how he’s gonna murder you than hot military hero. No offence, sir.”

“None taken.” Ghost sipped his bourbon and rolled said mask back down his face.

“Ye’ve known ‘im longes’,” Soap looked at Ghost, clearly desperate for answers, “has he always b’en like—“ he fluttered a hand in Price’s direction as the two young women and a fluffy looking twink hanging off his every word broke into raucous laughter at a joke that wasn’t even remotely funny, “—that.”

Ghost shrugged. “To get to where he is, he had to work hard. Gym, range, classroom, paperwork, mental preparation. You don’t graduate top of your class, praised to be the best in your field, by dossin’ around with skirt. Not a lot of time for… fraternising.”

“You have such a way with words, sir,” Gaz said, mildly amused.

Soap smirked wryly. “Aye, I c’n see that. But still, I c’n see why it took Nik a feckin’ decade. I wouldnae be surprised if he had tae be balls deep before—oh, hey, Nik! Over here!”

Soap stood to wave as a familiar looming figure in a brown leather jacket elbowed his way through the crowd, and spread his arms wide. “My brothers, you came!”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, mate,” Gaz said with a grin as he stood to receive the offered hug; Soap got a clap on the back of the shoulder and Ghost a shake of the hand. “So, how’d it go?” Gaz asked as he sat back down.

“Well,” Nik patted the right side of his jacket, slightly padded out with an envelope of paperwork, “it is official—I am now a British citizen.” Despite his smile, all three of them could see the sadness in his eyes. The kremlin had seen fit to strip his citizenship. He had said he was surprised it took them so long, but they had finally linked his alias, a face and a name on their records. It was difficult to maintain anonymity in retirement, so acquiring British citizenship had seemed the natural step to take given the last five years. He would always be Russian in body, heart and soul, but all three now belonged partly to someone else…

“Congratulations. We’re lucky to have you,” Ghost said, lifting his glass.

“Da, thank you,” Nik nodded, and then looked at the empty seats either side. “Where is the captain?”

“Holdin’ court,” Soap nodded towards the bar, “Ah’d get over there before he invites 'em over tae see his fish tank 'n loft conversion.”

Nik followed Soap's eye line and raised an eyebrow. He was a laid back man in most things, but when it came to John Price he had precisely zero chill. His back straightened and his shoulders squared, fingers twitching at his sides as he inspected the three people crowding around Price, lingering on the hand that was currently on his knee. “Please excuse me,” he said quietly.

Gaz smirked into his drink. “Get ‘em, mate.”

“Ahh, Nik!” Price beamed as he approached, swivelling on the bar stool to face him. “This is uhm… Jessica, was it? Derek and.. uh, sorry, I forg—Stacy? Stacy. I was just explainin’ how—mmph.”

Nik went straight in for the kiss without preamble. His hips slotted as easily between Price’s legs as their lips did together, his tongue sweeping into Price’s mouth to stake his claim. The hot flush went from the tips of Price’s ears to the v-neck of his t-shirt; he didn’t usually do public displays of affection, but Nik felt it was an equitable sanction. As he pulled away, Nik was happy to note that the three had drifted a little further down the bar, mumbling their excuses. Price didn’t notice; he only had eyes for Nik.

“What was that ‘bout?” Price croaked.

Nik hummed as he took Price’s left hand from his waist and held it up between their faces. “And here is the problem, no?”

“Ahh, Nik, it wasn’—I’m just—“

Nik ignored Price's flustered excuses as he grabbed the chain of his dog tags and pulled them from inside his shirt. The ring rattled softly against the stainless steel as Nik yanked the clasp open and extracted it from its customary place next to his heart. A lesser man might have thought ill of the whole thing, but it had been Nik’s idea; the risk of de-gloving on an op was high, and it would only get lost if shoved in a pocket or at the bottom of a duffel bag.

“It is better this way,” Nik had said softly late one night, “because they will bring it back to me if—“

“N’aw,” Price had replied, “I’ll always bring it back myself, right? Along with my sorry arse, no matter what state it’s in.” It had been an empty promise given Price’s job, but Nik had kissed the comfort from his lips as he’d said those words anyway.

At home, however, it went back on. Price was forgetful. Too much going on behind those pretty blue eyes to think of such a small adjustment. Nik slid the ring back onto Price’s hand and then kissed the back of his knuckles. “Better.”

“I forget, ’m sorry, that wasn’t—“

“I know,” Nik said. “But it will put off the predators.”

“Predators?”

“Johnathan, they were ready to eat you—vodka, on ice,” Nik glanced at the barman only briefly as he gave his order, returning to Price’s eyes as they glittered up at him.

“Eat m—? We were chattin’ about gardenin’.”

“You were discussing gardening, they were not here to discuss.”

Price’s mouth clicked shut. “Ah.”

“Ah, indeed.���

“Well, thanks for the exfil…”

Nik smirked. “Always.”

“How’d it go?”

Nik reached into his pocket and extracted a dark navy passport, flipping it open so Price could see the identity within—Nikolai Price, M, British Citizen.

“Well, bloody hell, would’ya look at that?” Price took it in both hands, thumb drifting over the photograph affectionately. “You know, I’m surprised you changed to your alias, and didn’t keep—“

“I am not that man anymore,” Nik said. “I am… everything we have built together, and will continue to build. I prefer it this way.”

Price smiled, folding the passport closed to slot it back inside Nik’s jacket. He studied Nik’s face closely, saw the sadness there but also the relief. His home had been taken from him the moment he had turned, but he had slowly, and at times painfully, built himself a new one. With Price. Fuck, they could be on the other side of the world, and Nik would still be ‘home’, because ‘home’ was a man, not a place, and Price had come round to the same line of thinking. It had just taken him a little longer to realise.

“I love you, Kolya,” Price said softly.

Now it was Nik’s turn to flush, his cheeks tinging a soft pink as he processed the open affection he was still growing accustomed to. “And I you, captain.”

“Oi, lovebirds, use that officer’s salary and get a round in, L.T.’s bein’ a tight-fisted bastart!’

Nik chuckled and reached into his pocket for his wallet. “This one is on me, as they say.”

“I’ll take a double scotch then. We’ve got some celebratin’ t’do.”

“Ofiget… da, da, barman!”

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

DRABBLE: THEY’RE YOUR BLIND V-DAY DATE ❤️🍷💕 (CROSSOVER ANIME) (18+) (For Black!Fem!Readers)

Writer’s Note: Got another something for V-Day for y’all. I decided to do one for multiple anime characters cuz I’m a slut for all them 2D characters & couldn’t decide on one specific show lol. Plus it sounded fun! And important disclaimers I’ll just make a note of before the actual Drabble. I hope y’all enjoy! ☺️🥰 -Jazz

********

LEVI ACKERMAN (AOT)

The first night, you’re nervous, to say the least, especially when Hange warns you about his appearance. 

“Why?” you had asked over margaritas and tacos, already perplexed and slightly unnerved by her warning. “Is he really ugly or something?” 

Hange, sitting across from you in her glasses with her locks of long, chestnut brown hair cascading down her shoulders, shook her head. “No, no, my dear!” she immediately protested. “He’s actually quite handsome despite the broody thing. But he does have some scars from a mission gone wrong at his job and he’s blind in one eye.”

She took a sip of her margarita as if to soften the next blow. “And he’s missing a leg,” she finished. 

You were taken aback, to say the least, but you didn’t let that stop you. You aren’t prejudiced and you refused to let that stop you from at least giving Hange’s friend a chance.

Apparently, Levi has been a firefighter for a couple of years and has recently broken up with a longtime girlfriend, so Hange figured he could get back into the dating pool and realize that there are great girls out there starting with you! 

So the weekend of Valentine’s Day, Hange texts you the name of the restaurant and you take an Uber there after spending the entire day doing your hair, picking out an outfit, and giving yourself a makeover. You decided on a soft glam look as this is the first time you’re meeting the guy and a pretty, red dress that hugs your frame and zips in the back. 

When you get out of the Uber in front of the quaint and low-key yet romantic restaurant, you take a table near the door so it’ll be easier to see Levi walk in and flag him down. You still have no idea what he looks like, only that he’ll be wearing a black trench coat, he’s kinda short, and he has a large scar going over his eye.

“His team calls him Scar, apparently,” Hange laughed. “It helps that he has a smooth, deep voice too!” 

You admit that you were curious to see him and hear that “smooth, deep” voice she told you about. So you sit and order a glass of wine, waiting for his arrival as you stare out at the passing cars and people…only he never comes.

You wait and you wait and you wait, but he never shows his face. You call Hange, thinking maybe you have the wrong restaurant or time or day, but all is correct. You think that maybe he’s in traffic or something came up, but Hange never calls to tell you either. 

When your appetizer comes and the candle sitting in the middle of the table begins to melt, you feel your heart sink to the pit of your stomach. You’ve been stood up.

The realization hits you like a brick to the face. Quickly, you order the check and a box for your food and pay the waiter before running out of the restaurant in tears. You feel stupid. Wasteful. Foolish in your pretty dress and heels. 

Hange comes over to see you with the quickness when you tell her that night, ice cream and face masks in tow. “I can’t believe him!” she says, enraged, with a sheet mask on her face. “He told me he’d be there and then he doesn’t show up? Who does he think he is? Why, I’m gonna give that man a piece of my–“ 

“Don’t Hange,” you sigh, shoveling another spoonful of ice cream into your mouth. “Just leave it be. He probably just changed his mind or wasn’t ready.”

You are ready to move on and forget it, but the universe doesn’t let you. A week later while at work of all places, you get an unknown call. Thinking it’s one of those scammers, you give a sharp “hello”. 

“Uh…hi,” a smooth, deep, velvety voice replies. “This is Levi, Hange’s friend. This is Y/N, correct?”

You heart drops into your ass and it takes a moment for you to reply. “Uh, y-yeah,” you answer. “Yeah, this is her. You’re Hange’s friend? Did you get my number from her?” 

“I had to,” Levi replies, his voice making your stomach do flips. “I’m sorry if that’s weird, but I just…”

He pauses, sighing. “I had to talk to you,” he finishes, sounding completely beaten. “I’m so sorry for not coming last week. I was so afraid for you to see me because of my appearance. I was so sure you'd find me unattractive and not like what you see. I’m very insecure in that and I let it get the best of me, but that doesn’t mean you deserved that. Hange already went up my ass about it.” 

You softly giggle, knowing she would. "So, if you don’t despise me too much and you’re willing, can we meet up for dinner this Friday night if you’re free?”

He sounds hopeful and slightly afraid. You don’t know why you say yes, but you do and you make plans to meet for ramen on Friday. When the day comes, you wear a more casual outfit–-a pretty cashmere sweater, jeans, and some boots––but still style your hair and makeup to look presentable. ‘Second time’s a charm, I guess,’ you think. 

It’s a dry, cool night so you wait outside the restaurant for Levi to arrive, texting him that you’re there prior to your arrival. Ten minutes into waiting, you think he isn’t going to show and that he duped you again, but then your phone rings. Your heart leaps at the sight of his caller ID and you answer. “Hello?” you answer, noticing how breathless you sound. 

“Look up,” Levi says and you do, seeing him standing before you across the street under a streetlight.

The soft light illuminates his features: a sharp jawline and cheekbones, soft, pale skin, one eye the color of a gray ocean, and the other milky where a long scar runs from his eyebrow to his cheek. He walks towards you slowly with a slight gate in his step, his hand on his left leg where his prosthetic is, and finally makes it over to you. He is extremely attractive and smells like toasted vanilla.

“You’re Y/N, I take it?” he asks, a small smile on his face. 

“And you’re Levi,” you reply, your heart battering against your ribcage.

He gives a slight nod, his one eye roaming over your frame. “My God, you’re stunning,” he chuckles as if he can hardly believe it. “Even more than that the first night. I had come, but I never went into the restaurant. I was so intimidated by the way you looked that I just–“ 

“Stop,” you interrupt, not liking the thought of him standing outside looking into the restaurant window at you, feeling so horrible about his looks.

“That was then and this is now. And you’re wrong, by the way.”

One of Levi’s eyebrows raises in confusion. “I do like what I see,” you say, your voice soft and shy. “For the record, you’re one of the sexiest guys I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” 

The laugh Levi lets out just about fills you with joy and you just about melt before he holds the door for you to enter the restaurant, not so discreetly staring at your ass as he does.

NANAMI KENTO (JJK)

He’s a professor and he’s a blonde is what you’re told by Gojo…but that’s about all he tells you, the asshole. 

“You’re asking me to go on a date with a dude I don’t even know and you won’t even tell me what he looks like?”

You’re sitting with him at brunch with bottomless mimosas when he runs it by you. You get the feeling he just invited you out with the promise of mimosas, good omelettes, and paying just to toss this at you. 

Gojo gives you his big, gigawatt smile as he sits across from you wearing his usual shades. “Trust me, babe! He’s a good and attractive guy! If I wasn’t taken, I’d fuck him myself.” He snorts to himself, shoveling some eggs into his mouth. “But I don’t even think I’m his type.” 

From what you gathered at the start of brunch, Kento Nanami is Gojo’s very stoic, very introverted, very lonely friend who is in need of a date this upcoming Valentine’s Day. Though intelligent and handsome, Nanami isn’t too good with women and hasn’t been in a romantic relationship is quite some time.

“I swear, he’s not an incel,” Gojo swears, one hand on his heart and the other held high. “He loves women! He’s just…awkward.” 

You aren’t sure if you like that answer. “What if I meet him and I don’t like him?” you ask, taking a break from your mimosa. “I mean, I’m only agreeing to this because you said you’d pay me.”

And Gojo did. He figures you’re the perfect girl––smart, pretty, and funny––to bring Nanami out of his shell. “$50,” he sing-songs. “And if you hate his guts, you'll get another $50, I promise. But give him a chance, Y/N! He needs it!” 

To not hear him whine and beg, you roll your eyes and agree. Gojo arranges for you to meet with Nanami at a winter light show in the park that is done every year. It’s the perfect place to meet since it’s romantic and very populated.

You dress in your warmest and cutest coat before hurrying to meet Nanami, your boots crunching in the snow. The park is decorated in twinkling lights that line the trees, walkways, and fountains. 

You’re so enchanted by the lights that you barely see the slick of ice lining the sidewalk. You misstep and your left foot goes skidding. “Oh, shit!” you gasp as you fall, but you don't feel the ground or the cold snow.

You don’t feel anything at all except two warm, strong arms wrapped around you. You look up into the warm eyes of an older man. An older, extremely attractive man with a blonde undercut and wearing a tan wool coat. “Are you alright, miss?” he worriedly asks. His voice is deep yet warm and sweet like honey.

You’re so taken by the stranger that you barely notice that he has set you upright. “Um…yeah,” you answer albeit softly. 

You blink at him, noticing how tall and well-built he is behind his coat. His hands are strong and capable and you find yourself staring at them even when he shoves them into his pocket. “Nanami?” you hesitantly question.

You watch his darker blonde brows furrow in confusion then rise in realization. “You’re Y/N,” he realizes. “Forgive me. Gojo didn’t tell me what you’d look up or what you’d be wearing.” 

You think you see his eyes trailing over you, but you can’t focus on it for too long. “That’s okay,” you laugh. “That’s Gojo, for you. How do you know him?”

Nanami begins to walk with you to the line at the entrance gate to enter the event, keeping the same slow pace as you. “We went to the same high school and remained friends ever since. How did you meet him?” 

“We met through a mutual friend and just clicked,” you explain. “Her name is Shoko.” Recognition crosses Nanami’s face at the name. “Shoko?” he asks, a light flickering in his eyes. “I know her as well. We all went to the same school.” 

“What a coincidence!” you giggle, glad to have something to break the ice (other than your fall). “Thank you again for helping me. I know I’m dumb for wearing these things in the snow.” You nod down at your heeled boots to which Nanami only stares at, never smiling. His expression is unreadable and slightly intimidating. But you can tell it’s just awkwardness. Now you see what Gojo meant. 

But rather than be unnerved by it, you find yourself wanting to break through it. You want to get to the warm core of this man. “Um…should we walk?” you ask, nodding at the entrance gate. Nanami nods but looks slightly worried.

“Will you be alright?” he asks, still staring at your feet. “You may want to hold onto me.” He offers you his arm, a slight tinge of pink to his cheeks that one could pass off for the cold. Your heart leaps at the chance to touch him, even be near him. 

“What a gentleman,” you chuckle. “I didn't think chivalry still existed.” You take his coat sleeve and let him lead you through the entrance into the park’s first trail.

A chuckle that makes your stomach flip and your pussy leap leaves Nanami’s mouth. “I wouldn’t say all of that but thank you. I would just think I’m being a good human being. So Gojo told me about your job. What is that like?” 

The park is truly beautiful, decorated head to toe with lights that twinkle and dance. But you’re not focusing on the lights; just Nanami and his conversation. For such a stoic guy, he can really hold a conversation.

He tells you all about his job as a professor and his students; what subjects he likes; his life outside of work. He asks you about you and all of your habits, hobbies, and joys. He listens intently, putting them all in his brain’s filing cabinet. You find similarities about each other, including favorite books, movies, and your love for the beach. 

The date lasts for an hour and you enjoy every minute of it. You like being around Nanami, enjoying his stale humor and shy smile. More than anything, you like his presence.

You like how soft his wool coat feels under your finger. You like how he keeps his arm at reach, even when you release him at times. You like how he keeps the same pace as you, never walking too fast and always staying at your side, his black leather shoes tapping against the concrete.

You’re feeling him and you want to let him know that when you finally reach the end of the park where the last attraction, an ice sculptor decorated in lights, stands. 

“Wow,” you sigh. “So pretty.” 

Nanami stands next to you as you stare up in awe at the attraction. “Yes,” he agrees, though he isn’t looking at the lights. His attention is solely on you.

He likes the way the lights illuminate your skin which contrasts with his. He likes the brown of your eyes, so warm and tempting like chocolate. He likes your humor and sweet laugh. He likes you and he isn’t too shy to show it. You can see it when you turn and find him already staring at you, bold and heated. 

He is sexy. He is alluring. And you want him. “Nanami?” you shyly ask.

His eyebrows raise, acknowledging your question. You turn to him fully and stare up at him through your lashes. “I don’t usually do this, but…would you want to come home with me?”

He is silent, staring at you wordlessly, and your stomach flips with discomfort. “For coffee, maybe?” you add. 

Nanami doesn’t have to be asked again.

To end such a perfect date, you find yourself on your back with Nanami on top of you, looking so handsome above you as he pounds your pussy into the mattress. His big hands pin your thighs apart and up to his broad shoulders, your painted toes and skin contrasting deliciously with his lighter skin.

“So pretty,” he groans. “You were the prettiest thing there tonight. Fuck, darling, you’re so tight!” 

He thrusts into you harder, faster, making the bed squeak and you lose your voice from how loud you moan. You can feel yourself about to cum after so much foreplay and stimulation (Nanami is a gentle lover).

“Kento,” you whine, digging your nails into his shoulders. “I’m gonna cum! Please…please cum with me!” 

And he does. At the sound of you begging, he bursts inside of you with a ragged groan as you cum all over his big cock, your pussy walls squeezing around him and stroking his shaft.

As you do, his lips find yours, giving you a passionate kiss that could melt the ice with how hot it is. 

NICO ROBIN  (One Piece)

*Note: Reader is plus-sized! 

Nami swore up and down that you needed to go on a date for Valentine’s Day to forget about your short-term “situationship”. 

“Just give a chance, Y/N,” she said to you over ramen. She treated you to lunch at the best ramen place in town while you were on your work break. “It’s just for one night and I can’t stand the thought of my best friend alone on Valentine’s Day! And she’s a great girl, seriously!” 

You looked down at your bowl of ramen, feeling hot under your sweater dress that clung to your plump body. The idea of a blind date didn’t appeal to you much, especially being such a big girl. Usually, when people got a look at you, they either ghosted you after the first date or didn’t give you the time of day. Why did she think this was a good idea?

“Just be careful,” Zoro said, shoveling spicy miso ramen into his mouth. “She’ll charm the pants off of you…or skirt…whatever you’ll be wearing.” Nami smacked him on the the arm hard, making the green-haired hunk hiss in pain. “Don’t listen to him, honey. Robin is just a sweet-talker. You have nothing to worry about!” 

But when you finally get a look at your date, you don’t think that’s true. Nami set the date up at a high-scale bar where the working class and hotshot businessmen come for happy hour.

When you walk in, you immediately feel self-conscious despite looking oh-so yummy in your waistband coat that flares around your waist and pink dress that makes your skin and brown eyes pop. But the dress also sticks to your body, accentuating each curve, ripple, and roll. Though your stomach ripples with nerves, you also feel slightly confident catching eyes under the warm lights above. 

You sit at the sleek bar and order yourself a cocktail to loosen up a bit more while you search for your date at the door. Nami only told you that she’s “tall with long black hair and might be wearing purple”.

You’re curious as to what this girl is like and if she likes what she sees. You sip on your cocktail and scroll through your phone for a couple of minutes, completely unaware of the eyes you have captured from down at the bar. 

When you turn around in your stool to place your glass down, you find another cocktail sitting behind you. Confused, you flag down the bartender. “I didn’t order this,” you tell him, pushing the glass towards him. “It was sent to you,” he explains. “From down at the bar.” You look in that direction, but find no one paying any attention to you. “But I have a date,” you protest. “I can't accept this.” 

“That’s correct,” a sweet yet smooth and sultry voice purrs behind you, “and it’s usually rude to deny a drink from her.” The voice causes your body to react instantly: the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end; your heart pounds in your chest; your stomach flips. You turn and see your blind date standing behind you in the flesh. 

Beautiful isn’t a word to use for Robin. She is absolutely stunning. A straight vixen oozing confidence and poise as she stands behind you in a purple cocktail dress that illuminates her soft, pale skin and blue eyes that steal the air from your lungs.

She is tall and slender with piano fingers painted in a dark rouge that you want to feel wrapped around your body, but has a rack that can stop traffic and is definitely catching eyes. Her long, shiny, black locks of hair cascade down her slender shoulders, catching the light above. You are in awe of her and her beauty as are the others in the bar. 

“Y/N?” she asks in her alluring voice. Wordlessly, you nod and close your mouth to avoid looking like an idiot. “I’m Nico Robin, Nami’s friend. She’s told me so much about you.” She puts a slender hand out to shake yours, giving you a whiff of her luxurious-smelling perfume and a peek of golden Tiffany bracelet. 

You put your hand in hers, feeling warm from her touch. “N-Nice to meet you,” you stutter. “Please, have a seat. Do you want a drink?” Robin raises her brows questionably as she settles onto a stool next to you. You flush under the lights, thanking God that he made you Black. “It’s only right since you ordered me one.” 

Robin smiles, her pearly whites and dimples making you damn near melt. “How sweet of you,” she giggles. She orders herself a dirty Martini with extra olives and thanks you again when it comes. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting. I got caught up in some work.” She slowly crosses her soft, long, milky legs over one another. You do your best not to stare. 

You give her a smile, pretending that you’re not turned the fuck on by her, and lean your elbow against your chin. “So you’re an archaeologist, right? That’s such an interesting job.”

She smiles at the compliment and at the mention of her career as you sip your cocktail. “Well, I’ve always been attracted to history since I was young. I’m attracted to intelligence too, which you seem to have a lot of.” Her smile turns flirty and now you know what Zoro was talking about. You’re already charmed by her. “Tell me: what’s your job like?” she asks. 

Your conversations last for hours and flow perfectly, especially after you get your second drink in you. You tell her about your job and quietly gush over her curiosity and awe, realizing how much she loves learning. You talk about everything, from city life to books to anime, learning that you both love magical girl anime, especially Sailor Moon.

You didn't expect that from Robin because of how poised she is and her love for dark colors, but as soon as you mention Sailor Moon, her eyes widen in excitement. “I love Sailor Moon!” She laughs. “I cosplayed as Sailor Mars two Halloweens ago. I bet you’d look so pretty as a Sailor Scout, especially with the skirt.” 

That’s another thing you learn about Robin: she’s a flirt. She sneaks in little sly compliments to obviously make you flustered…and it’s working. You try to do the same, complimenting her on her outfit and her smile. “I can see why everyone is so fond of you in here,” you say, nodding at the group of businessmen playing pool who are not so discreetly staring at you both from across the room.

Robin giggles, turning back to you with a hooded gaze. “Too bad,” she sighs, not at all sounding disappointed. “I’m here with you.” 

As the night goes on, it gets looser as you both become more comfortable with each other. You talk about everything and anything, telling each other funny stories and showing pictures of your pets. “You’re a dog mom too?” you coo, gushing over her wallpaper of her and a fluffy, brown animal dressed as Santa Claus though he has pointed ears and horns.

“Reindeer mom,” she corrects you and titters at your confusion. “It’s a long story, but that’s my perfect little boy. His name is Chopper.” 

Other than Robin being a sweet-talker as Nami said, you also find out many other things about this alluring, attractive woman. Like how much she loves plays and Disney movies, becoming so excited when you ask her about her favorite films. “I love musicals,” she shyly says, an endearing blush on her face. “Can you tell I’m a secret theatre kid?”

Or how she tends to ramble about information she’s obtained from books and documentaries about tribes long gone and age-old urban legends. You could listen to her talk for hours. Unbeknownst to you, she feels the same about you whenever you speak about yourself and your interests. 

As the alcohol takes its affect on you both, she also tells you that she’s a devil fruit user, a term you’ve heard before since many in the world are, including your mutual friend Luffy. When you ask her about her ability, she just winks behind her third martini glass. “A woman never draws all of her cards…not all at once, anyway.” 

As the night draws on, so do the drinks and soon, you’re feeling loose and bold. You decide to show her your hidden talent which is rolling your eyes to the right and the left. “I can wiggle my ears too,” you say, showing her much to her amusement. She applauds you, giggling at your talent. “My, you’re full of surprises,” she giggles. “And so am I.” 

You suddenly feel something tickling your sides and look down to see two disembodied hands tickling you. Robin’s hands. You look at her in shock as she retracts her extra arms, using them to grab her third martini and take a sip. “The perks of being a devil fruit user,” she chuckles. At the sight of your expression, she grows concerned. “Do they frighten you?” 

“No,” you answer honestly. “They’re…” You stare at her extra hands, wondering how many more she has and how they would feel on your body. “Pretty,” you decide to answer with. That is enough for Robin to decide what she wants from you tonight. 

So when you’re both still sitting there when the bar is emptying out, she makes it known. “Oh, dear,” she sighs, exhaling in disappointment as the bartenders clean and the drunk crowd empties out. “It appears that our date has become to an end.” She turns to you, placing a warm hand on yours. “I really enjoyed meeting you, Y/N,” she says, a smile on her face that makes you ache. 

You don’t want tonight to end. You don’t want her to go. You need more of her touch. She seems to understand and see the mutual disappointment in your eyes because she doesn’t release your hand.

“Unless you want this night to continue,” she adds, her voice like honey in your ears. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t very attracted to you too, unless I’m mistaking the chemistry.”

You can’t speak, so you shake your head and her eyes twinkle. She leans in toward you, engulfing you in her scent. “Just say the words and I’ll go with you,” she whispers into your ear. 

Desire overwhelms you and you squeeze her hand, interlacing your fingers. “I’ll call a Lyft,” you exhale. Robin smiles, keeping her hand in yours. 

She doesn’t let go even hours later when your fingers are interlaced with each other while your legs are pinned open by her extra hands on the bed. Your moans and whimpers fill the darkness of your bedroom as she moves her tongue against your clit, moaning eagerly and sloppily into your pussy as she eats you like there is no tomorrow.

“Now I can really show you how good I am with my hands,” she giggles, looking up at you between your thighs. “You’re so cute like this, pretty girl.” 

You can feel that knot in your core tightening the more she moves her jaw, going faster and faster until you have no choice. “Robin,” you whine. “I'm gonna…gonna…!” Your back arches and your legs shake around Robin’s face. 

Her hold on you tightens, her hands gripping your thighs.“Cum for me, gorgeous,” she hums. “I’ve got you. Cum all over my face like a good girl.”

One thing is for sure while you gush around Robin’s face, loving how she eagerly laps up everything you give her: another date is definitely in the future for you and her.

PRO!KATSUKI BAKUGOU & KIRISHIMA EJIROU (BHNA)

*Note: Reader is plus-sized & a bimbo! 

*Disclaimer: Bakugou & Kiri are both aged-up (over the age of 18) in this drabble! 

You don’t know why you agreed to do this blind date thing, but your friend put you up to it after she reminded you of your NY resolution to try new things to help yourself. 

“You need to put yourself out there more, girl!” she argued over the phone with you. “Do you see how hot you are?! You deserve to have someone on your arm!” You pouted as you painted your toe nails a pretty bubblegum pink, your feet hanging over you bathtub smelling like vanilla bubblebath. 

Though she is right about you deserving a nice guy to tell you how pretty you are, most of the guys you dated either used you as arm candy, hit in then quit it, or just stopped talking to you because of your, uh…bimbo-ness. You know you have no filter and sometimes you do come off as dumb, but you’re trying your best! And you’re kind and the sweetest person anyone will ever meet! Isn’t that enough? 

“Yeah, but a blind date though?” you complained into the phone sitting on your sink. “How am I gonna go on a date if I can’t see, girl?” You gasped, even more mortified. “Or will my date be blind?! How will be able to see me and my cute outfit?!” 

Your friend just laughed. She knows you’re not the brightest crayon in the box, but you’re just too cute and sweet. “Honey, no! A blind date is when you meet someone you’ve never seen or met before. Someone else sets the date up for you.”

Your heart resumed its normal pattern and you relaxed into the water. “Ohhh,” you realized with a giggle. “Well, if you’re setting it up, can you tell me anything about him?”

Your friend refused, much to your dismay. “Nope, but you’ll meet him later this week. Saturday night at 7 PM, don’t be late. I’ll give you all the details before then.” You hung up, a bit nervous but excited, already picturing your outfit for the day. 

The Saturday of Valentine’s Day weekend, you go to the cafe your friend tells you to go to which is only a few blocks from your apartment. You dress in a pink sweater that does nothing to hide your voluptuous bosom and a pretty, cherry red skit that hugs your tummy and voluptuous ass, the damn thing so short that the ruffles stop mid-thigh, a sliver of your asscheeks seen whenever you bend over. You pair your V-Day outfit with some warm stockings and high black boots before putting on your favorite fluffy, pink coat. 

An hour later after putting on some vanilla-scented body spray and giving your lips a slick of your favorite Fenty Gloss in a sparkly pink, you stand in line to order your food, hoping that will ease your nerves over today. Because your friend loves you so much, she set you up for two dates today: one at the cafe and the other later tonight at your favorite bar.

Your first date is a redheaded hunk, according to your friend. “He’s got red hair and he’s a fucking giant,” she giggles. “And he’s SUPER fine. You’ll know him when see him.” You melted at the details. “I do like big guys,” you sigh dreamily. Your second date is just as fine, but a hothead. “My friend works with him at his agency and apparently, he’s got a mouth.” Your friend rolled her eyes. "The dude is like a pit bull, but he's so fucking sexy.” 

“I’m a little nervous though,” you mumbled, starting to feel insecure. “You think he’ll like me?” Your friend looked at you like you were insane, making you laugh. “Who wouldn’t? You’re adorable!” 

And you feel adorable when you go next to the counter and the cashier’s eyes shoots straight to your tits. You don’t notice, too busy feening for some sweet, sugar coffee. “Hi, can I please get a peppermint mocha latte with two pumps of caramel, please?” You are so damn cute that the guy blushes and quickly rings you up. You pay and thank him when you get your drink before walking off, but stop when something captures you. 

There, hidden behind a glass container behind the counter, are a bunch of seasonal-flavored doughnuts lined up in a row. Your eyes immediately go for the one coated in pink frosting, powdered sugar, and red and pink sprinkles. “Oooh,” you coo to yourself. “So pretty.” 

“Agreed,” says a raspy, sexy voice from behind you. You turn a little too quickly and a bit of coffee sloshes over the top of your drink and onto the crotch of the guy standing behind you. “Oops, I’m so sorry!” you gasp. “I didn’t even see you! Oh, it’s gonna stain! Here, quick!” You quickly reach for a wad of napkins and begin to dab at the man’s crotch, not even realizing how it looks. 

Still not even bothering to look up, the blonde furiously blushes while the redhead behind him stifles a laugh. “That’s quite okay,” he chuckles. “At least now he smells like peppermint down there.” The blonde growls like he wants to commit murder. “Plus, Katsuki was standing way too close to you in line, weren’t you, ‘Suki?” 

You hand the napkins over to the blonde, hyper-focused on the nickname. “‘Suki,” you giggle. “That’s such a cute…” Your words die in you when you finally, finally, look up into the eyes of the two finest, sexiest men you’ve ever seen in your life.

One of them has long, red hair cascading down his broad shoulders, fanged teeth that flash at you as he smiles, friendly, crimson eyes, and piercings––dangling from his ears, embedded in his eyebrow, and snakebites in his bottom lip.

The other sports a platinum blonde undercut and a scowl that slightly softens at the sight of you. He, too, has crimson eyes that widen at your pretty face and outfit and one piercing in his plump bottom lip. The only things similar about the duo are how tall, buff, and sexy they both are. “Name,” you weakly finish. “I-I’m Y/N.” 

The redhead grins, putting his big ass hand out for a shake. “Ejirou,” he says, “but my friends call me Kiri.” You do so, noticing how calloused his palm is and how much his sweater stretches against his pecs. The blonde has the same issue, his V-neck shirt way too tight for his toned body. “Bakugou,” he grumbles, giving you an intense stare that makes you melt on the inside. 

Those gears in your head start turning and you gape at the duo. “Wait…I know you two!” you gasp. “You guys are those superheroes, right? Dynamight and Red Riot!” Kiri tosses his head back and laughs while Bakugou glares daggers at you. “Damn, could you be any louder?” he growls. You cover your mouth, flushing with embossment. “Sorry!” you whisper. "I’m just a big fan of you two! I almost didn’t recognize you in normal clothes. I have your posters and all of your merch!” 

Kiri gives Bakugou a look that he would seeing a cat do something cute. And that is what you are: a cute little kitty. Something adorable and sweet yet you have a sexiness to you that both men are coming to find. “Well, it's always a pleasure to meet a fan. Especially such a cute one.” He grins at the way you giggle bashfully. “I’m guessing you’re a fan of sweets? Me too. I was actually planning on getting one of those for my boyfriend, my date, and I.” 

You notice Kiri gaze at Bakugou when he says “my boyfriend” and you quietly gush to yourself. “Oh, you two are dating?” you coo, much to Bakugou’s dismay. He’s so cute when he blushes! “That’s so sweet! Here, I’ll treat you guys to ‘em to make up for that nasty spill.” 

Kiri is just about ready to scoop you up and take you home with them when you dig into your bag for your Hello Kitty wallet. “Well, isn’t that sweet? You up for somethin’ sweet, Katsuki?” 

Though Bakugou feels the same way, he still wants to feel you out and see if this “bimbo-esque” personality you’ve got going on is a fake. “It’s whatever,” he grumbles. “But you’d better get me the chocolate one. I don’t want the one with all of those sprinkles and shit on it.” You vigorously nod, taking out some cash. “You got it!” you giggle and hand them the cash. After getting back in line, Kiri orders one chocolate and two strawberry donuts and his and Bakugou’s drinks. 

You thank the cashier when she hands you each pastry individually wrapped in a paper bag, nice, warm, and toasty from the oven. You turn to the pros and hand them the treats. “Here you guys go,” you sweetly say. Bakugou grumbles as he takes his while Kiri gives you a big gigawatt grin. “Thanks, cutie,” he chuckles. You expect them to start eating them, but you’re shocked when Bakugou hands one of the strawberry ones to you. 

You freeze, confused. “But…this is for your date,” you say, completely clueless. “Aren’t you gonna give it to them?” Bakugou pinches the bridge of his nose like a dad with a dumbass child. “Oh, my God,” he groans. Kiri thinks it’s endearingly hilarious, holding his stomach as he laughs. “You are our date, silly girl!” he giggles. “Well, mine, technically. Your friend set us up to have dates with you at different times today, but we both just came together since we’re dating. I hope that’s cool.” 

You gape at them, wondering if they’re serious. Two of the hottest pros on a date with you? At the same time?! You just about squeal with excitement. “Sure!” you giggle, your heart leaping for joy. “The more, the better! Let’s go sit down so we can get to know each other more.” 

The two are happy to oblige. Kiri picks out a table in the back that is more secluded and near the window for the sights. Before you sit, you turn to Katsuki with an apologetic pout. “I’m sorry again about the spill, Bakugou.” 

The blonde cuts his eyes at you and you can't tell what he’s thinking due to how permanent his scowl is. But that changes when he pulls your chair out for you. “Katsuki,” he replies. “And stop mentionin’ it. Besides, I know some other way you can make up for it later…maybe with your number.” He gives you a lopsided smirk that makes you tingle between your thighs. 

“Chill,” Kiri cuts in, rolling his eyes. “Sorry about him. We don’t usually flirt too hard on the first date…but you’re just too cute to resist.” He boldly looks you up and down, tugging lightly on his bottom lip. You wonder what else he can do with his mouth as the cafe’s atmosphere becomes more tense between the three of you. “Well, I could say the same about you two,” you purr, a shy giggle leaving your lips. 

That’s what the duo want to hear. Bakugou’s smirk widens, a twinkle in his vermillion eyes. “Glad the feelin’ is mutual, mama,” he whispers. “So you sittin’ or what? My fuckin’ coffee’s gettin’ cold.” You do so and you never want the date to end…unless it’s to spend more time with them in private.

NICHOLAS "NICO" BROWN (GANGSTA!)

You stand outside of a jazz club one chilly night, watching the passersby and wondering which one may be your blind date. 

Worick told you all about his friend, Nico, but you’ve never met him before. You only know that the two work together and have known each other since childhood. You’ve only known Worick for two years after he helped you out of a messy financial situation with your asshole ex-boyfriend who, according to Worick, nearly shat himself when Worick threatened to bring Nico in to handle things.

Apparently, Nico is well-known throughout the town for being an extremely threatening and intimidating figure. 

Why in the fuck would Worick want to set you up with someone like that? “He’s a cool dude, really!” he assured you over coffee. “Just…quiet. And it has nothing to do with the fact that he’s deaf. He’s just a quiet guy; a little awkward; introverted…” 

‘Not to mention threatening and intimidating,’ you thought to yourself. “And you thought I was just perfect for this guy?” you scoffed. “What will we even talk about? How can I talk to him if he’s so quiet?” 

“If you ask him something, he’ll answer you,” the handsome blonde replied. “And don’t worry too much about signing. He can read lips, but just make sure you slow down with your words.” Though Worick knows you know sign language due to your father being deaf since you were an infant. He can tell you’re still hesitant to say yes and folds his hands into a prayer.

“C’mon, sweetie,” he begs. “The guy has NEVER been on a Valentine’s Day date before and his last girlfriend was a fucking bitch who dumped him because he was deaf. All she wanted was his massive dick…sorry.”

He apologized when he saw your reaction. You didn’t need to know that his childhood friend has a big dick! ….Though you are curious to know just how big. “He needs someone kind, considerate, and sweet. You fit the bill! Just give him a chance, please?” 

Before you agreed, Worick told you all about Nico’s ex, happy to do so when you asked. Apparently, she was the daughter of a rich family that he and Worick were in charge of guarding for a couple of months. She and Nico grew closer, had a sexual relationship, and Nico caught feelings while she didn’t, claiming it was because she didn’t want to date someone deaf due to it being “too much work”. You felt bad for Nico, especially when hearing how much it hurt him. 

“You’re lucky I love you,” you sighed at Worick’s pleading stare. He clapped his big, calloused hands and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Love you too, sweetie,” he chuckled. “I’ll fill you in on the details later this week.” 

He instructed you to meet Nico at an underground jazz club that Nico particularly likes for its seclusion and because no one bothers him too much in there. You dressed in a simple cocktail dress, flats and a cardigan to keep warm in the chill. Combined with your styled hair and soft makeup, you think you look pretty. You hope this “Nico" person thinks so too. When you look down the street among the other stores and taverns, you see a man walking up the road and you immediately know that your date has arrived. 

He is big. Huge! The man is nothing but bulky muscle hidden beneath his black tee, baggy jeans, and leather jacket standing at six-foot-something. He towers over you as he gets closer, so much so that you have to look up at him to actually look at his face. You can see why he's so intimidating.

Other than his height and build, Nico carries himself with a roughness and a confidence that is unshakeable and undeniable. It’s scary…yet also thrilling. Kinda sexy too. 

Under the soft glow of the street lamps, you get a good look at his features: he has a soft tan to his skin, thick, soft-looking lips, and eyes a deep, dark chocolate that you can get lost in forever. Silver dog tags hang from his thick neck that has your blood going hot and slight scars and bruises that you can see on his knuckles. You wonder, briefly, how he got them. He’s very, very handsome.

Realizing he’s waiting for you to make the first move, you clear your throat. “Uh….hi!” you greet, giving him a wave. He nods, barely cracking a smile. “You’re Nico?” you sign with your hands and verbally ask. “I’m Y/N, Worick’s friend.” 

Nico shakes your hand and you notice how big, warm, and calloused his palm is. It makes your pussy tingle embarrassingly so. “The teacher, right?” he signs with those thick fingers. “He told me you teach little kids.” You nod, smiling proudly at your occupation. “Yes, pre-K,” you giggle. “They’re adorable, but a handful.” 

There is an awkwardness between you, mostly because Nico is such a silent guy. He also keeps that stoic scowl on his face, so you don’t really know what he’s thinking. “So what do you do?” you curiously ask. “Worick never filled me in on that. He just said you do ‘business’ together as Handymen.” At this, Nico cracks a crooked smirk. “Something like that,” he signs. That intrigues you a bit. 

“Do you wanna go inside?” you ask, nodding at the door. “We’ll freeze before we get a chance to get to know each other more.” You give a small laugh to which he only nods, making you feel like a fish out of water. He opens the door for you, surprising you, and nods you into the warm club.

“Thank you,” you whisper, catching his intoxicating scent of cologne and lavender soap as you walk in. A bit of cigarette smoke clings to his clothes too, but it doesn't bother you much. The club is small yet cozy and dimly lit for a more intimate feel. Many people are at the bar or on the dance floor near the small stage where a band plays, the sounds of piano and cello mingling in the air. 

After getting your drinks from the bar (you get a cocktail while Nico picks a beer), you pick a table near the window and Nico pulls out a chair for you. You flush bashfully at his actions, not taking him for such a sweet guy. “Such a gentleman,” you laugh as he pushes you in and takes a seat across from you. “Worick didn’t tell me that. He said you’re very quiet though.” He shrugs his broad shoulders in his jacket. “Just don’t got much to say,” he signs. 

You nod as you shed your coat, revealing your naked shoulders and dress to him. You try not to be intimidated by his unwavering gaze. “That’s okay,” you sign and say. “We can talk about whatever you want.” The corners of his mouth quirk upward. “You sign really well,” he praises you. You smile proudly and bashfully, glad to have impressed him. “My dad is deaf and taught me how to sign since I was young.” 

His smirk turns more dry and almost forced as he signs to you: “So me being deaf doesn’t turn you off?” he jokes.

You immediately remember his ex and feel your stomach fall. “Not at all,” you sweetly answer. “Though I don’t like beer drinkers.” You wrinkle your nose at Nico’s drink. He raises an eyebrow, confused at your distaste. “It makes kisses taste like beer.” You lean forward a bit, giving him a secretive, flirtatious smile. “I like my kisses sweet.” 

Your eyes tick down to his lips and he notices. But he barely reacts. If anything, he looks disinterested and your heart sinks. “Was that too much?” you ask worriedly. Did you go too far? Are you misreading this? 

Before you can babble an apology, he stops you. “You asked what I do for work with Worick,” he signs. You nod, your heart thumping madly in your chest. He takes a deep breath before signing again. “We do almost everything, but I do dirty work,” he tells you. “I used to be a mercenary, but…I’ve still got human blood on my hands.” He pauses, watching for your reaction. That explains the marks on his fists. ”Does that bother you?” he asks, apprehension in his brown eyes. Before you can respond, someone knocks into the table, nearly toppling it over. 

You squeak, grabbing your drink before it can topple over while Nico straightens the table. “Oh, my God, are you alright?” you gasp, immediately helping the guy onto his feet. He turns to you, all crooked teeth and bloodshot eyes. “Now I am,” he drunkenly chortles at the sight of you. “Damn, darlin’, you’ve got a body on you! You wanna dance?” You immediately step back, warning bells going off in your head. “U-Uh, no, sorry. I’m here with–“ 

The man turns to Nico who has been staring daggers at the drunk the whole time. “Him?” he cackles. “That fuckin’ cockhead? You can get someone better than that, darlin’. Someone who can take care of this bo–“ 

The drunk cuts himself off with a whine of pain as Nico grips his hand so hard that he cracks the drunk’s knuckle bones. Unbeknownst to you, the drunk tried to touch your behind and Nico wasn’t having that. Doesn’t he know who he’s fucking with? You gape at your date as he steps between you and the drunk, a hulking mountain, and gets deep in the drunk’s grill.

And then he opens his mouth: “Back up,” he warns, his voice deeper and raspier than you pictured it though loud due to his hearing. “Unless you want your head in this table, I suggest you leave her alone. She’s with me.” 

He then releases the drunk who scampers away, clutching his hand to his chest. Nico composes himself and turns to you, an apologetic look in his eyes. “Sorry,” he signs. You don’t say anything and he is so sure that he fucked this up. Now you see who he is. Now you see that he’s just a Twilight. A mercenary. A no good– 

“Nico?” you softly ask. His hurtful thoughts take the back burner when you step to him, looking up at him with those precious, brown eyes. “Do you want to dance?” you ask, signing the words to him. 

He blinks at you, so sure that you're scared of him. When in reality, you're just trying to push the nasty thoughts of him kissing you silly and fucking you up against the table with that big, sexy body and massive dick out of your mind.

Him defending you but still being a complete, gentle giant to you is getting you going completely, but it’s still the first date. You want him to open up and maybe a slow dance can do that for you. “Not much of a dancer,” he signs, looking sheepish. 

You smile and offer your hands to which he takes. “I’ll show you how,” you giggle, pulling him along onto the dance floor filled with slow-dancing pairs. A soft, slow tune with a seductive saxophone and piano plays as you stand eye to eye. You place one hand on his shoulder as you interact your fingers with his with the other. Slowly, you begin to sway to the music, beginning to melt within the music and each other. 

And when lean your head onto his shoulder, finally feeling at peace, Nico comes to feel that this is where you belong: with him, in his arms. 

KEISUKE BAJI (TOKYO REVENGERS)

*Disclaimer: Baji is aged up (over the age of 18) in this drabble! 

“You’re the worst blind date I’ve ever had,” you very boldly and irritatingly tell the annoyingly sexy man sitting across from you. 

The attractive man with the long, wavy black hair, sharp eyes the color of milk chocolate, and a sharp, canine smile looks across from you at the table littered with remnants of your Italian dinner. Baji is his name apparently, a close friend of Mikey’s and one of his gang members. You never understood that gang shit, but they never give you problems.

If anything, Mikey’s gang ‘Toman’, protects you and makes sure you go about your days without any bother. “I’m guessin’ you’ve been on many blind dates before me?” Baji suggests as he chews on his pasta. “Huh. That’s a shocker.” 

You sharply squint at him, catching onto that shade. “Why is that so shocking?” you ask, digging your nails into the table with how irked you are. You can’t believe Mikey set you up with him. It’s been 25 minutes into the date and so far, each conversation was an argument and shot after shot.

Your personalities clash horribly, not to mention every woman in the place has their eyes on him. And he knows it! Not to mention that he’s an extremely messy eater (which led your mind to other places), he is way too into himself, and he has no idea how to act in a classy setting like an Italian restaurant. 

He’s a wild. He’s argumentative and hot-headed. He’s a rugged, tough-as-nails, roughneck dude…and he’s turning you on.  

Baji leans back against his chair, widening his legs in a way that makes you want to scream. Why the fuck does he have to be so goddamn fine but such an asshole? Is God punishing you? “Well, bein’ the fact that you’re the very definition of ‘a stick in the mud’,” he explains, “and a tighter than a drum, I can hardly believe how any guy sat across from you at a table. At least you’re pretty.” He goes back to eating his pasta like he didn’t just insult you. 

“Excuse me?” you hiss, feeling your blood boil. Thank God for your dress or else, you’re sure you’d boil over from the anger you feel. “And I can’t imagine how any self-respecting woman can sit with a lowlife, cocky, smart ass narc like you. And unlike me, your looks do nothing to take away any of that.” Baji’s thick, black eyebrows raise at the shot you took. “And you’re snarky,” he chuckles. “Lucky for you, I’ve got a thing for snarky girls.” 

He uses his sinful tongue to lick a bit of sauce from his bottom lip. You catch a glint of metal on his tongue as he does and you realize that he has a tongue piercing. ‘Fuck,’ you think, clenching your thighs beneath the table and gripping the hem of your dress. You lean your hand against the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache coming on. “I can’t believe I said yes to this shit,” you sigh into your hand. “Fuck the $50. I’m gonna have to tell Mikey that–“ 

“Mikey?” Baji cut in, pausing from eating. “Mikey put you up to this?” His brown eyes widen in shock and you feel a spark of joy at shutting him up. “Yes,” you proudly say, venom in your tone, “he did. And you know why? It’s because no other girl wants to date you. You’re unromantic, you’re a slob, you’re always looking for an argument, and you seem to push every single guy’s buttons in here.” 

He stares at you for a moment, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, and then he begins to laugh so loud that the others in the restaurant look at him. You hide behind your hand, embarrassed. “Oh, shit!” he cackles. “I swear, that motherfucker is desperate to find me somebody.” You nod, pushing your dinner to the side. “Agreed. Why he ever thought I would be a perfect match for you is beyond me.” 

Baji looks at you now, an unreadable expression on his face as his smile fades. “Maybe it’s because you’re such a fuckin’ brat,” he replies though his tone is different. You stare at him in disbelief, scowling. Did he really just say that? Deadass? 

Baji smirks at your reaction. “You heard me: B-R-A-T. You’re a brat and fortunately for you, baby girl, I’m just the guy to handle a chick like you.” He leans in toward you, folding his ringed knuckles beneath his chin. “Someone who doesn’t shut the fuck up or know her place.” 

“Know her place?!” you snap, earning the attention of the restaurant. He barely reacts, though his smile grows and a strange twinkle appear in his eyes. “You know what? Fuck this and fuck you. Why you even have an ex-girlfriend is beyond me if this is how you talk to them.” You stand up in your pretty, body-hugging dress and grab your coat. “I’m leaving,” you huff, snatching the coat on. “Have a good Valentine’s Day, dickhead.” 

Without another word or waiting for him to respond or even stop you, you leave the restaurant and step out into the cold February night. You barely get down the street before you hear your name being called. You turn, seeing Baji jogging towards you, those black locks flowing in the wind. “Y/N!” he calls in his deep ass voice. “Hold up, wait!” You don’t know why you stop, but you do, putting a hand on your hip. You glare at him and pout those plump lips when he finally stops in front of you. “You left your dessert.” 

He presents a small brown box to you and opens it to reveal a small chocolate fudge cake with chocolate mousse on the inside and Godiva flakes coating the top. “I didn’t order any dessert,” you say in a tight voice. He smirks down at you, standing several heads taller than you. “I know; that’s why I ordered ya one. C’mon, you don’t like chocolate cake?” You look back down at the cake and close it before he hands it to you. “What, is this an apology?” you snort. “Sorry, man, but you’re gonna have to try much harder than–“ 

“You’re wonderin’ why I have an ex, right?” he interrupts you. You pause, confused, but he just smiles mischievously at you. “I have an ex, and many of them, because I’m an asshole, unfortunately. Force of habit.” He shrugs, but actually looks guilty for it. “But I’ve had many girlfriends because I know how to tame them.” 

His smile is flirtier now, creating more of that sexual tension that you felt at dinner. You still stare at him, speechless, and he figures that you’re clueless about what he means. “I put it down,” he explains. "Give good dick. Knock their boots. Am I makin’ any sense here?”

You roll your eyes, ignoring the thoughts running in your head of just how good he is in the bedroom. “I know what you mean,” you snap. “So why the fuck are you tellin’ me this?” 

Baji smiles at you, his canines glowing at you as if they are illuminated by a light within them. They thrill you and bring a ferocious and needy part out of you that you didn’t know was even there. He takes a step toward you, getting closer, until you can reach up and kiss him if you want to.

“Because I know you’re attracted to me,” he murmurs matter-of-factly. “What, you think I can’t see it? The way you squeezed your thighs tight together at the table. The way you kept starin’ dead at my hands. The way you’d get so lost in thought as if daydreaming about somethin’ else way more exciting.” 

You flush embarrassingly, more at your behavior than the fact that Baji noticed it. You can’t help how attracted you are to him. But Baji doesn’t want you to be embarrassed or ashamed. He wants you to want him the same he wants you.

“Lucky for you, mama,” he purrs, the pet name making your pussy jump, especially with his voice, "I’m just as whipped for you, especially in that dress.” His fingers lightly glide down your arm, sending shivers down your spine. “I’m sorry about tonight, but I can show how sorry I am in other ways if you want me to.” 

You can tell he genuinely means it and isn’t just trying to get in your pants, but even so, you still scowl up at him, your jaw set and eyes narrow. “And why do you think I’ll say yes?” you question. He just chuckles, still flashing you that sharp, sexy smile. “Because you know I’m the only one who can handle that bratty ass of yours.” 

He then turns and waves a hand. You don’t know what for until a taxi suddenly glides over to the curb and stops. Baji walks to the backdoor and opens it before looking back at you expectantly, his eyes molten with lust.

“Now get in the fuckin’ car, Y/N.” You know you shouldn’t get in the car and go anywhere with him, but you can’t deny how much he makes your pussy throb. So against your better judgment, you crawl into the backseat of the cab and tell the driver your address. 

Hours later after being stripped out of your dress, shown extensive foreplay, and having your pussy eaten like Baji hasn’t had anything to eat in decades, you find yourself being fucked against the wall with your arms and legs wrapped tight around the long-haired, tattooed man who holds you against him as he pummels his thick, hard cock into your tight, wet pussy again and again. The bedroom is filled with the sound of your mixed moans and skin slapping against skin as he pistons his hips into you, making you see stars. 

It doesn’t take long for your pussy to start quivering around his cock, squelching and dripping the more he fucks it. You’ve never been fucked like this in your life and you’re able to hold back anymore. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Baji!” you practically scream. “Can’t…can’t take it! I’m gonna cum!” 

Baji shakes his head, gripping your hair with one hand while he hikes you up onto his waist with the other, showing you how lightweight you are to him. “Uh-uh, bratty girl,” he huffs. “Not yet, mama. I need to feel more of this pretty pussy flutterin’ around me.”

He thrusts harder, faster, drawing whines and sobs out of you. You begin to claw at his back where a large tattoo dedicated to Toman is inked into his back muscles. “You cum when I say, understand?” he growls into your ear. 

You weakly nod, willing to do anything he says if that means you can cum. “Now shut the fuck up, and take this dick.” You do so, stopping your protests as he fucks you stupid until you cream all over his cock while he fills you up to the brim…but of course, you only do it when he says so. You find that you love doing what he tells you to. 

When everything is said and done, you both crumble to your bedroom floor and Baji pecks your cheek. “Best blind date ever, right?” he chuckles.

BENIMARU SHINON (FIRE FORCE)

*Note: Reader is Goth! 

“God, kill me,” you sigh, standing in front of the theater doors. “Why did I agree to do this? He could be a serial killer or something!” 

You contemplate leaving, but you already promised your best friend that you’d go through with this stupid blind date on this stupid ass holiday. “Please just try and go along with it for tonight, Y/N!” she practically begged. “I promise he’s a nice guy! And I already told him you agreed! Just give it a chance and I promise you that I’ll never bother you about dating again.” 

You groaned, sitting across from her at a bar. “Fuck,” you sighed. “Fine. Can I least pick the movie?” Your friend eagerly nodded, so you purposely picked a romance/horror movie marathon showing that the theatre does every year for Valentine’s Day. The kind with blood n guts, gothic vampires, and slashers. Surprisingly, the guy still agreed to come much to your dismay and you had no choice but to come out. 

You know that your friend did this as a way to get you to start dating. You swear she thinks that one of these days that you’ll hang yourself from the shower rod with how lonely you are…and this has zero to do with you being goth. Though you love the color black, but you’re not depressed. You love dark makeup and rock music, but that’s what you love. You’ve always adored gothic fashion and the aesthetic, so that’s what you live. 

However, some people think it’s weird. Though Tokyo is full of eccentric and different type of fashion, goth isn’t particularly “popular” in your Black family or side of the city. And it certainly isn’t popular with the guys. You don’t care. You love yourself and you’re not about to change for anyone. So you dress in your finest black attire with a mini leather skirt, thigh-high stockings, and boots that make you feel powerful and sexy. Your makeup is dark, your mascara is sharp, your nails are as long and sharp as claws, and chains drip from your leather jacket. 

You wonder what your date will be like. Apparently, he’s a well-regarded and respected officer in the Special Fire Force, among the strongest there is. But you don’t recognize him when he comes up the road from his side of the city. He is tall and has a lean build that is hidden behind a black sweater and baggy jeans. His locks of black hair hang in his face, but not enough to hide his different set of eyes: his right pupil is a red circle with one black dot in the middle while his iris is black; his left is red with a white X in the middle, reminding you of a game of tic, tac, toe. 

“Hey,” he greets easily. “You waitin’ for someone?” You scowl at him, crossing your ams over you chest. “Why are you asking?” you ask sharply. The stranger raises his big hands in defense, taking a step back. “I’m not trying you, I promise. I’m just wondering if you’re this Y/N that’s supposed to be waiting here for me.” 

You squint at him, cocking your head to the side to see him at a different angle. “Benimaru?” you question. “Huh. You don’t look how I thought at all.” He is handsome but not enough to knock you off your game. He quirks a small smirk and you have a feeling that this dude don’t smile often. “I hope that’s a good thing,” he wryly chuckles. “For the record, you’re not bad on the eyes either…if that’s what you meant.” 

You don’t acknowledge his compliment or react even though your stomach flips. You’re not used to anyone complimenting you on the account of your black lipstick and mascara. “So should we go in or stay out here to freeze to death?” you sarcastically ask. You huff and turn on your heel before Benimaru can even answer or follow you. 

He easily beats you to the door on his long legs and opens it for you, towering over you as he does. “Is sarcasm just natural for you?” he asks, dry humor in his voice as you step into the theater. You feel a pang of guilt at your behavior. It’s not his fault your friend orchestrated this. 

“Sorry,” you apologize. “I’ll admit, I’m not too hype about being here. Dating isn’t really my thing, but my friend insisted I come on this stupid blind date…no offense.” Benimaru barely blinks at you walk to the ticket counter. “None taken. My friend, Konro, swore I needed a Valentine’s Day date when the whole holiday isn’t even a holiday. It’s pure BS.” 

“Ugh, agreed,” you scoff, rolling your pretty, brown eyes ringed in mascara “It’s just a way for companies to continue to capitalize off of hopeless romantics and couples. Not to mention all of that pink.” 

Benimaru nearly misses that, too busy thinking about how pretty your eyes are. “I’m takin’ you don’t like pink?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you. “Not that your clothes are a dead giveaway or anything.” His interestingly alluring eyes tick up and down your outfit, making you feel hot under all of the leather. “I just like black,” you laugh. “But don’t get me wrong; I wear other colors sometimes, but only on a minuscule level.” 

“Your friend said you were a gothic chick,” he chuckles, giving you a mischievous smirk. You send it right back as you take out the two tickets your friend sent you for the movie. “As gothic as they come,” you retort. Benimaru just hums in response, particularly liking you in that mini skirt and the way it swishes around your thighs. 

After buying the tickets, you two wander into the small waiting area where a bar, a cafe, and an arcade occupy the space. “So the movie starts in about fifteen minutes. Should we head in now?” Benimaru doesn’t answer at first, too busy staring at the arcade games. “Nah,” he replies, nodding at the flashing, noisy games. “We can kill some time in here.” He begins to walk over, expecting you to follow. “Your friend also said you’re shit at racing games,” he says with a smirk shot your way. 

“Not true!” you scoff, crossing your arms. He shrugs pausing in the threshold of the arcade to wait for you. You finally give in, taking off your jacket to reveal your black crop top. “Fine, but only if we got time for the shooting games too. I wanna kill some zombies.” Benimaru nods, secretly laughing to himself as you follow him into the arcade. 

You spend way more than fifteen minutes in that bitch, playing all the games you can. Benimaru is good at almost everything, playing each game with skill and precision. He lets you win most of the time, just liking to see you smile and laugh in pride when you win a racing game or beat him at ping pong. During the zombie game, you get overrun by the undead while holding your plastic machine gun and you feel him lightly touch your elbow to point the gun straight. His touch sends shivers all over you. You win the first half until you run out of time and Benimaru smirks at you. “I totally helped you with that,” he sniggers. 

You also play basketball, shooting them repeatedly through hoops. He always gets the farthest hoop and the highest points, winning every round. “You only won ‘cause you’re taller,” you huff, bumping your hip with his as you walk by. It gives him the perfect opportunity to watch your ass sway in that damn skirt, making him hard as a rock for you. 

As walk to get something to drink, you stop at one game in particular: the crane game. It holds dozens of little plushies that you’re obsessed with, including the little black plague doctor with its big eyes and fluffy beak. Benimaru smirks at you staring at the game, walking up beside you. “I saw you looking at this thing the whole time,” he says. "You couldn't have been any less discreet.” 

“Shut up,” you grumble, still staring at the plushie. He notices and pulls out his last arcade coin. “What, you want it?” You quickly shake your head, turning to leave. “We’re gonna miss the movie anyways, so–“ 

“Fuck it,” he carelessly interrupts, shocking you. “You obviously want that penguin, so I’ll get it for you.” 

You roll your eyes, sighing. “It’s not even a penguin; it’s a plague doctor Squishable. It ain’t a big deal for me to have it, Benimaru.” But your date just glares at you as he bends down to put the coin in the slot. “And it ain’t a big deal for me to get it for you,” he argues. “If we miss the movie, we’ll just go for food.” 

You are floored by his stubbornness and refusal to give up until he’s made you happy. How can that be? You only just met and yet here he is, using his last coin to try to get you a stupid plushie! You watch with bated breath as he plays the game, moving the crane slowly as he fixes his eyes on the plushie. Once he’s moved the crane right over the plushie, he hits a button, causing the crane to sink down into the sea of stuffed animals. The crane’s hooks latch onto the peak of the plushie and, slowly, he moves it over to the opening in the corner to release it.

The crane plays music and lights up in victory as the plushie rolls down the chute into Benimaru’s hand. He turns to you, an unreadable look on his face. “Here,” he says passively. “I figured goth girls didn’t like cute shit like this…but he is kinda creepy.” 

You take the plushie, just staring at it for a moment. All of the sudden, you feel weird. You feel tingly and butterflies flutter around in your stomach. That never happens, but it’s happening for this guy! “Thanks,” you softly, and very shyly, say. Benimaru shrugs like it isn’t anything to him, but it is to you. “Y’know, the movie marathon is gonna be showing another night too…” You trail off, looking down at your shoes to avoid seeing his eyes. 

“So you want another night with me?” he asks. Quickly, you turn on your heel and stomp out of the arcade, leaving him utterly confused. “What?” he calls after you, sounding genuinely baffled. “It was just a question!” 

A second night with him does happen two weeks later and you do see the midnight marathon, but neither of you pay any attention to the first move that plays. You’re too busy bouncing on your date’s thick, veiny cock in the darkness of the theater to watch the film, biting back your moans despite the seats being empty. Benimaru softly grunts and moans into your ear as your walls flex around him, his eyes transfixed on the way your ass jiggles as he lifts up your skirt. 

“Fuck, Beni!” you moan. “Y-You’re s-so fuckin’ big!” You grip his thighs with your long nails as his dick stretches you out in the best way, a delicious ache coming in your calves with the effort it takes to bounce on him. Benimaru stands up and bends you over the seat in front of you, beginning to fuck you from behind. He is fast and nails that single spot every time that makes you have to cover your mouth because you’re so loud. 

“Shh, shh, baby,” he coos into your ear as he continues to pound into you from behind. “You don’t want security comin’ to find us, do you? Or maybe you do, you little slut, fuckin’ your date in the movie theatre.” He takes a fistful of your hair and pulls, much to your enjoyment of being slutted out in the dark. Anyone could walk in and see you fucking right now. It’s so naughty. So sexy. 

The thrill of it must be getting to Benimaru too because he speeds up his thrusts, his balls slapping against your clit as his hand smacks against your ass, gripping it tight. “Shit, baby, you’re gonna make cum!” he groans, tossing his head back at the feeling of your tight walls squeezing around him. “Cum with me! Make that pretty fuckin’ pussy cum around my cock!” 

You quickly begin to rub you swollen clit in time with his thrusts and soon enough, you’re cumming all over his cock. “Fuck!” you scream into your hand as your orgasm tears through you. Benimaru cums too, filling you up with a long groan that he bites back as best as he can among the movie playing. He lets you come down from cloud nine before pulling out, letting his cum leak down your thighs. He turns you around, pumping his cock soaked in your juices. “Not yet,” he growls. “Put it back in your mouth and taste yourself.” 

You get on your knees, panties at your ankles and leather skirt hiked up. Benimaru wastes no time thrusting into your mouth, using it as his very own fucktoy, as he watches your brown eyes ringed in mascara stare up at him eagerly. When he pulls away to cum again, your black lipstick stains his cock, marking him as yours.

“Fuck!” he gasps as he cums all over your pretty face, ruining your eye makeup. It is now but black smears down your cheeks as his nut drips all over your face and cheeks. 

“Poor baby,” he chuckles. “Your mascara’s runnin’. I bet you worked so hard on it.” He takes a napkin from your movie snacks and dabs away the cum. “So cute,” he sighs, marveling at how utterly adorable you look. You giggle, feeling deliriously good and cute, just as he says. 

Yeah. A third date is most definitely in the future for you now. 

[kth1fics]

I Won't Hurt You (M) | MYG

I Won't Hurt You

● Pairing: Ghostface!Yoongi x Female Reader ● Genre: Horror, Smut, Rated R | 18+ ● Tropes: scream au, pwp, established relationship, slight angst ● WC: 1.7k ● Warnings: party vibes, dark-themes (murder), weapon mention(knife), mentions of blood, oral (f), fingering, unprotected sex, does it make sense? No. does it have to? No, etc ● Beta: n/a (i don’t talk to anyone so i have no betas) ● Summary: You find out that your boyfriend is Ghost Face, but he doesn't want to hurt you. ● Author’s Note: Who would have spontaneous sex with their boyfriend after they unalived someone? This fic is completely out of the blue and I love the Scream franchise! Please leave any feedback or comments on a reblog, post, or even my ask box! ● Song Recommendation: To The Stage by Asking Alexandria

Masterlist ◈ Mail Box ◈ AO3 ◈ Ko-Fi

All night, you have been looking for your boyfriend in Namjoon’s house. What started out as a bopping Halloween party soon turned into a ghost town. Even when the place was filled with bodies and costumes it was hard to find Yoongi. Now, you can’t even find a single soul.

It isn’t until you quietly crept up the staircase towards the hallway do you finally find someone.

A shadowed figure crosses through the light in a room. You hesitantly peer into the doorway to see someone wearing a full ghost face costume, looming over the bloody body of Namjoon. The figure swipes the blood clean from a bowie knife as they stare down at his lifeless body.

The scream lodged in your throat doesn’t surface as your hand covers your mouth. You slowly back away from the door but fate has other plans for you as the wooden stair creaks from the weight of your step.

Nerve endings on high alert, you watch as if in slow motion while the stranger turns their head and acknowledges you. Your voice comes forward in a scream as you begin down the stairs, feet stepping as fast as possible while the stranger is fast on your trail.

The heavy push of their body tackles you like a linebacker hitting a quarterback. Swiftly landing you to the ground and pinning you to the floor.

Helplessly you yelp, “Stop! Please, no!”

The ghost face keeps you beneath him as their clothed hand covers your mouth. They pull off their mask and reveal themselves to you, leaving you undoubtedly stunned. It’s your boyfriend, Yoongi.

“I’m going to remove my hand,” he warns with a warm tone. “Please don’t scream.”

Yoongi is straddling your hips as his body keeps you from moving around. He watches the way your eyes shift into fearful tears as he drops his mask to the side.

You nod slowly and Yoongi takes his time pulling away from you. He stands towering over your terrified state with the knife still in his hand. Yoongi waits for you patiently to sit up as you stare at him.

Traces of blood stain the front of your cowgirl costume, transferred from Yoongi’s costume. You were wearing a matching set with Yoongi when you arrived tonight, but the man you look up to now looks completely different from what you remember.

His black hair is disheveled across his face with traces of sweat gathering at his temples. He’s partially out of breath and covered in a stark black gown. There’s a wild, puzzled look to his eyes as he leers down at you.

Fear runs through you forcing yourself to uncontrollably tear up. You can’t run, he’s proven that to you already. You’re stuck right here in front of a murderer. He leans down and tries to console you with a hug but your arms shoot out and reject him.

“Y/n, baby, please –” he hushes, “Don’t cry! It’s okay, I won’t hurt you!” Yoongi’s voice is as soft as he can possibly make it. His hand comes to brush aside a portion of your hair while he continues to speak, “Baby, let me see your face. I can explain.”

Gently, Yoongi manages to pull your arms toward him as he cradles your cheek with his hand. You feel the smooth gloved thumb run across your skin and wipe away the running tears. 

You look at him in disbelief as he holds onto you. There’s still the sweet, beautiful, caring man before you. The one you know all too well. His warm eyes remind you of the Yoongi you love, the man you put your full trust into.

“W-why?” Your voice breaks with emotion.

The question could be meant for a multitude of reasons, but he knows exactly which question you are asking. And for an answer he cannot explain simply. 

Yoongi stalls momentarily, his mouth hanging open for a split second before closing. He pulls you into a tight hug, “You weren’t supposed to stay here.” Your body stiffens immensely as you feel Yoongi’s arms around you. His chest beats against yours, both your hearts racing erratically. “Jenna was supposed to take you home,” he mumbles into your shoulder.

“I couldn’t find you!” You hiccup with pain in your voice.

His warmth allows your body to relax against his. Your panic allows you to hold onto him tightly as your body shakes with adrenaline. It feels as if your heart is shattering within you as reality settles.

Yoongi pulls away from you so he can look into your glossy eyes as you weep with sadness. His fingers lightly grip your chin and force you to face him. “Baby, I love you. I’ll never ever hurt you, I promise!” He kisses your lips tenderly before pulling you closer.

“I’m so sorry you are in the middle of this,” he murmurs as he kisses you again. “You weren’t supposed to see this stuff. I was trying to protect you.”

Yoongi’s lips follow the length of your neck, leaving warm kisses on your skin as his hands roam your body. He places his bowie knife to the side, away from the two of you while he continues to let his apologies leave his lips. 

You allow Yoongi to lay you down on the hardwood floor. He maneuvers to your chest, using his fingers to pull down your cowgirl top and bra enough to release a nipple. His lips attach to your sensitive bud, using his tongue to flick across the fleshy piece until it hardens. Yoongi’s body slots comfortably between your legs as he slithers down your front. He disposes himself of a glove, freeing his digits from the leather fabric just before reaching the hem of your skirt.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” His lips mutter against your lower stomach. His bare fingertips dance along the inside of your thighs while they descend closer to your core, “I love you so much.”

Yoongi looks up at you for confirmation before he continues forward. You nod slowly, reassuringly, for him to know you trust him. Quickly, Yoongi’s face buries and disappears in between your legs. His fingers pull aside whatever panties that are in his way and licks a solid strip up your folds before sliding two of his deft fingers inside of you.

You clench at the sudden intrusion, but it’s a welcoming presence nonetheless. Involuntarily your legs squeeze the sides of his head, hands shooting down to grip the raven black locks atop his head as a lewd moan leaks from your mouth.

“Fuck,” you curse as the back of your head thuds against the floor below you. You tug hard on his hair as your hips buck into his face.

Yoongi frantically picks up the pace with his fingers as his tongue swivels around your clit, lathering the nub with his saliva as he presses knuckles deep into your walls. He leans up from you abruptly, fingers still running a ‘come-hither’ motion inside of you as his parted mouth glistens. 

Yoongi fumbles with his belt underneath the ghost face cloak before pulling the blasted cloth off of him, revealing the same cowboy outfit that you match with. He slides back on to you, fingers pulling out of you quickly to shove down his jeans and boxers past his hips to free his hardened cock.

You feel yourself dripping the moment Yoongi removes his fingers. He uses your essence off his fingers and lathers it along his cock before giving it a quick few tugs. Yoongi’s desperate when lining himself up with your entrance, being mindful to pull your panties as far to the side as possible. The moment his cockhead kisses your hole he leans down to connect his mouth to yours.

He pushes into you completely, forcing the two of you to let out a sudden and satisfied moan. Yoongi lifts your leg up to allow a deeper penetration, thrusting slow and deep as he bends you to his will.

“You feel so good, baby –” he hums as his head nuzzles into your neck. 

Your fingers curl on his clothes, leaving small scratch marks through the material. 

“H-Hold on to me…” Yoongi picks his pace up fast. His hips snap into your body, pulling his cock all the way out just to dive it right back in at full force. The lewd sounds of skin slapping skin struck his ears, your beautiful whines mixed with pleasure fuels his ego. He craves more with every single thrust he puts into you, gradually fucking you harder and faster until your body is shifting across the hardwood flooring.

“Y-yoongi, I’m gonna –” A broken moan interrupts you when his teeth latch onto your neck, leaving a harsh mark that undoubtedly will become a bruise. Your body jolts in his grasp while your eyes screw shut. 

“Cum for me,” Yoongi’s voice is laced with lust, a small smile tugging at his lips as he feverishly piles his cock into you. “You feel so fucking good,” he grunts between his words, every thrust stronger than the last. It helps build your orgasm up to the very brim before it snaps, “Cum for me baby, I love you.”

You can’t form a full sentence as his thrusts become more desperate, reverting to you chanting the word ‘yes’ like a mantra as your sweaty body jolts underneath Yoongi’s weight. Your moans grow louder, the heightened sensation in your lower region breaks as your climax washes over you in an exciting rush. Yoongi’s hips began to slam into you. Your cunt clenched around his cock like a vice grip, the flexing muscles spasm inside you squeeze him so tightly it leaves Yoongi gasping.

He groans loudly as he pulls out just in time and comes hot white ropes on top of your panties. Yoongi slowly rocks his hips against your body as his high dies down, his mouth leaving open kisses across your neck until he reaches your mouth. 

“Baby,” he huffs. “Look at me.”

You turn to see the mirth in Yoongi’s eyes. Both of you lay there with spinning heads, breath labored, and bodies cooling off.

“I won’t do anything to hurt you,” he sighs. “I’ll never hurt you.”

© 2024 All rights reserved under @kth1​ - do not copy, repost, modify, edit, or translate any of my work without my direct consent. This TUMBLR and AO3 are the ONLY places my fics are posted.

[itaehynz]

HII BABY! ahem SOOO for the event i’d like to request for “welcome to the movies”, the movie batman BUTTTTT villain catwoman!reader x CHOI YEONJUN . HEAR ME OUTTTTUH (a little plot but mostly smut ykyk 😇)

ONE NIGHT ONLY.

pairing: batman!yeonjun x catwoman!reader.

genre: forbidden love, superhero x villain au, smut, a little angst & fluff.

word count: 4.4k

warnings: profanity, argument before intercourse, yeonjun and reader are both dicks in the beginning, mention of killing, includes an explicit sex scene; harddom!yeonjun at first, sub!reader, big dick jun implied (it’s real), public sex, oral (both receiving), cunnilingus, fingering, dacryphilia, marking, hair pulling, throatfucking, choking, overstimulation, spanking, unprotected sex, squirting, nipple play, breeding, degrading + praising, soft sex toward the end (but not for long), kissing, spitting, breeding kink, name-calling; pretty/pretty girl, good girl, gorgeous, slut, whore, baby.

“Pretty girls like you like to get fucked in alleys? That's new.”

ni’s notes; the event masterlist is coming soon but here it is!! i hope you enjoy this fic, my love. also thank you to my proofreading friend, if you see this, ily babe. happy reading my lovelies! 💕

SPECIAL MASTERLIST!

With the arrival of night comes danger—dangers this city has been dealing with for years on end, dangers caused by you. And, of course, Batman is always the one to the rescue. He has always been their superhero, the person they can always count on. But not anymore. A rumor has begun. A rumor you started. A rumor to ruin his reputation.

You two have been secretly meeting at night to avoid being seen by others. This is all because of him - he's the one who made this rule. He's the kind of man who always gets what he wants and never takes no for an answer. However, the rumor that the two of you are in a committed relationship, which isn’t true, has officially ruined his reputation. But where's the fun in telling the truth?

It doesn't matter how much you love him; you love to toy with him even more. Getting under his skin, and ridiculing him, makes you feel giddy. The knowledge of how angry you could make him with a simple action. The adrenaline hurries through your veins at the thought.

But that's before you hear something rustle behind you. You think it could be a random citizen, so you simply ignore it, until your mouth is covered by a black leather glove.

“Stay quiet,” the voice says. It’s deep and rich. You recognize the voice—actually, you know it. It’s him.

The man who never denies himself pleasure, the man who always knows what he wants. The man goes by two names, Batman or as you’d like to call him, Choi Yeonjun.

When he appears behind you, you don't gasp or panic. You knew he was coming sooner or later. Once the news spread, you knew he'd have no choice but to come to you. Eventually, he'd try to figure out who spread the word, only to be led back to you. Besides his assistant, nobody knows about the two of you, except you and him.

Soon, he uncovers your mouth and begins leading you to god knows where; however, you're not complaining. This is exactly what you wanted. You wanted him to seethe with anger. You truly looked forward to hearing from him, whatever he had to say. Every time you two have a conversation, it almost always ends with sex. This time should be no different.

He pulls you into a dark alleyway, a blind spot away from the citizens of Gotham. "Tell me," he says, bringing a finger to his temple and inhaling deeply. "Tell me what led you to this point, Y/n."

To your dismay, it's as if every reason you had has been wiped from your memory entirely. Under his mask, you see his eyes piercing into yours. You find yourself feeling more intimidated as you look away, making an effort to avoid his intense gaze.

He grasps your face firmly, bringing your eyes back to his. After doing so, he takes his mask off, throwing it somewhere. What you're now faced with is an expression you’ve never seen before. He’s furious. His eyebrows furrowed and a firm wrinkle was prominent in the center of his forehead.

He looks at you with raised brows, expectant. Expecting a reasonable answer from you, not whatever random bullshit you can think of.

“I wanted to see if I mattered to you,” you draw in a large breath, “If we mattered to you.” He looks at you dumbfounded, has he not been the best he could be to you? What more could you want from him? He scoffs, “You’re joking, right?” he questions while looking at you, once again, expecting an answer.

You laugh, “Of course I am! Why would I care about how much I mean to you? You're Batman, you don't care about how others feel about you,” you add, rolling your eyes in a joking manner. He scoffs at your ability to joke in situations like this, soon falling into a small laughter. Withdrawing his hand slowly, slapping your cheek twice in a ridiculing manner.

He seems completely disinterested in continuing the conversation, as your responses didn't give him anything to engage in. He's convinced that you started the rumor because if not you, then who else?

Deciding not to think about it any further, he runs a hand through his hair before walking away from you. You grab for your mask, taking it off before calling out to him. As you call out to him, he pauses in his tracks before turning his head in your direction with a raised eyebrow.

“I just,” you murmur, rolling your eyes once again. “I just wanted to get a rise out of you. I admit, it was a stupid way to do it but I just wanted to have a little fun, that’s all.” He looks at you once again, amazed by your reasoning. He’s never found anything more stupid than that.

"Are you serious?" is all he says. The more you think about it, your reasoning for doing this is pretty dumb. Not only does it ruin his reputation because it's said that he's dating the city's worst villain, but it also ruins yours. Obviously, your reputation was trashed the moment you started this job, but now it's worse than it was before.

You simply nod at his words as he scoffs for the nth time, shocked by how far you've gone. You know how hard he's worked to get into his position, and the fact that you were able to break all that down with a simple news article baffles him, to say the least.

“I should fucking kill you.” He threatens, scowling at you. You’re taken aback by the sudden change in his demeanor as the distance between the two of you gets smaller and smaller. “What?” you question, already knowing that he’s fuming. This is your way of trying to get more of a rise out of him. You trust yourself and know what you're doing, he wouldn't dare to kill you… right?

“First, you ruin my reputation and now you're standing here acting like you’re an innocent ass fucking fool, acting as if you don't know why I’m here,” he pauses, seeming as if he wants to hear your side. “Yeonjun, I’m the fool? If anything-” “Yes! You are! So, don't even try to go there with me, Y/n. You need to fucking learn your place and keep our business in between us. Stop doing stupid shit to get a rise out of me because I already knew what you were doing once that dumb excuse came out of your mouth.”

“I need to learn my place?” you scoff lightly, beginning to walk closer to him. “You should be the last person talking about learning their place. You’ve never known yours! You're always intruding into someone’s life and trying to fuck things up for everyone. You’ve never known your place, and now you're shocked when someone else doesn't know theirs? Well lucky for you, I’ve had a great fucking teacher! So since you wanna talk big, why don't you show me what my place is, huh? Show me exactly what my fucking place in this world is, Choi Yeonjun.”

Those words were all he needed. Just like you needed to provoke a reaction from him, he needed you to say those few words. The moments it took for your heart to beat were the few seconds he needed to get you right where he wanted you.

He is aware that you can be a brat sometimes; that's for sure. However, this time was extreme. Not only did you argue with him, but you also kept giving him illogical reasons, even after he explicitly told you not to.

If you wanted him to fuck you, why not just say so? You went as far as revealing the relationship between the two of you, and just for some dick? Hysterical. Absolutely fucking ridiculous, is what he thinks.

“You’re just a fucking whore, aren't you?” He says, venom creeping its way into his voice. His cape drops as he makes his way to you, eyes blown out with lust and a tinge of fury. He almost laughs at the way your face shows pure worry, but your eyes say otherwise.

You're almost caught off guard by his sudden switch-up, but what can you say? You like how he’s acting. You like the way his calloused hands feel against your skin, the way his unoccupied hand feels against the flesh of your ass. Grabbing weighty amounts of your flesh and groping it roughly, he has no intention of being soft with you but maybe, just maybe you can change his way of thinking.

“You like it when I’m rough with you, huh? You like it when I treat you like shit—don’t you?” he growls softly in your ear, you can’t deny that. The pleasure you gain from arguing with him for no logical reason is immense. You know you should feel guilty, but the feeling of his hands on your body takes away all the guilt you’ve ever had.

He removes his hand from your face, both hands now resting on the apple of your ass. He rubs around it softly, reminding himself what belongs to him. “Hm. This is a pretty suit, are you sure this is the same as the others?” He whispers, kissing from your lips to the sweet spot of your neck. You hum in affirmation, causing him to put a stop to his ministrations. “Words, Y/n,” he taps your cheek with two fingers softly. “Yes, it is.” He hums, continuing to kiss in the same spot he was before.

You feel his hands gripping roughly at your flesh once more, soon hearing a tear. You jump in shock, grabbing at his arms for some sort of balance. He coos in your ear, telling you to stay quiet once again. You feel his hands spread your legs further, right before he presses a firm thigh between them.

“Pretty girls like you like to get fucked in alleys? That's new.” He brushes his knee past your tender clit, emitting a soft moan from you. His soft kisses soon turn to bites, his finger now rubbing back and forth past your slit. He brings his other hand back around to stretch the tear of your suit, slapping your clit lightly. You gasp in satisfaction, causing him to wrap a hand around your mouth.

“I told you to be quiet, didn't I?” He questions, not expecting an answer. He runs a finger past your clit, rubbing small but rough circles into it with his thumb. His finger slightly teases your slit, going in and out to build the stimulation within you. His finger enters you in a swift motion, eliciting a whiny moan from you and into his palm.

He kisses your forehead softly, beginning to pump his finger faster before adding one more. You cringe at the stretch but soon adjust to it, squirming in pleasure. He tightens his hold on you, pushing your stomach down which does nothing but increase your volume.

“You hear those sounds, baby? Those beautiful, dirty sounds coming from you? Those are the sounds of a whore.” he says, slapping a hand on your clit once more. You whimper into his palm, watching as he smirks at the sounds coming from your cunt. He bites back a chuckle, seeing how easily he can have you writhing in the palm of his hand.

He draws his fingers from your soaking cunt and brings them to his mouth. He looks at you as he does so, wrapping his tongue around the digits as he flutters his eyes shut in delight. “Such a dirty mouth, yet you're so sweet.” He pulls his fingers from his mouth before lowering himself down to your cunt, humming in adoration once he’s faced with your wetness. “Look how pretty she is, so wet—so perfect. You have such a pretty pussy, baby,” he says, bringing an agonizingly slow stripe of saliva to your cunt.

“You still wanna do this here? Or would you prefer to go back home?” he asks, pausing his actions. “N-no, please, this is fine, Jun.” He smiles at your desperation, chuckling softly to himself before licking another long stripe up your cunt. His hands grip your thighs roughly, spreading your legs more than before for better access. Before doing anything else, you feel his hands reach up your chest to tear another hole in your suit. He moves the fabric aside to release your perky tits from their enclosure, rolling one between his fingers.

You moan quietly, to abide by his rules. He flicks your clit with his tongue, keeping your thighs apart with his free hand. He laps at your clit, wrapping his pretty lips around your sensitive bud. He relishes in the taste of your juices, sucking at your cunt as if his life depends on it. Your moan increases in volume, causing him to hum into you. He watches you writhe in pleasure as he inserts two fingers, watching every pleasure-felt expression that appears on your face.

You begin gripping his hair, pulling at the brown locks as you roughly ride his nose. He groans at the feeling, fluttering his eyes closed in pleasure. He feels his pants getting tighter as your pretty moans fill his ears and shoot straight to his cock.

You feel your orgasm creeping up on you as he continuously moans into your squelching cunt. With a plan in mind, you tug his head away from your clit. He looks up at you, dumbfounded. He's confused as to why you did that before seeing you drop to your knees. He watches you pull down his pants, releasing his cock from his slacks. He groans in pleasure, bucking his hips toward your face frantically.

You lick at the tip of his cock, jerking the rest of him off. He watches you with lust-filled eyes, bringing his hand to your face. You melt into his palm, looking back up at him with doe eyes. His breath quivers as you wrap your lips around his tip, licking at his leaking tip. You swallow the drops of precum before licking at his slit once more, watching as he bites his lip in attempt to contain his moans.

You chuckle, “It’s so pretty, Yeonjunie,” you mutter, loud enough for him to hear. You watch his hips buck upward in pleasure as you begin to hold his waist, preventing him from doing it again. He moans at the restriction, watching as you finally take all of him in your mouth. For some sort of stability, he grips your hair in his fist. He gains control over your throat as he bobs your head back and forth on his cock, seeing how you easily give in to him. He closes his eyes, stalling your head and fucking himself down your throat.

You grip his hips tighter, allowing him all the relief he needs as he fucks your throat. “F-fuck, baby… yeah, j-just like that, fuck, yes,” he moans, bucking his hips into your mouth. The noises coming from the alley would induce any type of curiosity in a person who just so happens to be passing by—the lewd sounds coming from your throat as he moans above you. The pretty noises coming from him as he shoves all of his length down your throat makes wetness form between your thighs, pooling at your entrance.

As you continue to let him fuck your throat, you reach down and rub rough circles into your clit. He opens his eyes for a split second to see how you’re occupying yourself and sees one of your hands away from his hip. Even though he feels himself nearing his orgasm, he yanks your hair to pull you away from his cock. He watches drool leave your lips as you stare up at him, breathing heavily and jaw nearly slacking.

He pulls you up by your hair, forcing you around to press you against the concrete wall. “You thought you were gonna get away with touching yourself? You thought I wouldn't catch you?” He rubs the soft flesh of your ass, tearing the rest of the bottom half of your suit off. “Look at you, baby. So pretty and wet, just for me.” He whispers in your ear, landing a firm slap on one of your asscheeks.

Watching as you wince, he soothes the pain with a soft knead into your flesh. It doesn't last long as he lands another one, telling you; “This is for lying in my face,” Another one. “This is for telling the press our business,” Another slap. “And, this? This is trying to make me look like a fucking fool,” Another one. “This one is for touching yourself without my permission, acting out, and all those times you treated me like I was a fucking joke; laughing in my face, lying to me, creating bullshit excuses for your actions, and thinking everything is a fucking game.” He raises his hand higher, before landing a harsh and rough slap on your ass once more.

You feel tears rolling down your face as he coos into your ear, kissing your neck and rubbing the bruising flesh. “Aw, my poor baby. You’ll be okay, just don't act like this again, okay?” He says, wiping your tears with his free hand. He kisses you one last time before pulling away to line himself up with your cunt. “Look at this,” he smiles to himself. “Doing all this crying, just to find out—you’re getting off on this shit, what a fucking slut.” He chuckles once more, inserting himself carefully.

You moan at the way he hits your sweet spot almost immediately, feeling his hand creep up to your breast. He pulls you against his chest by your throat, wrapping a firm hand around it. You watch him gather his spit in his mouth before telling you, “Open.” With quickness, you open your mouth as the spit drops from his to yours. “Swallow it,” he whispers, watching you carefully. You stare up at him, swallowing the spit just as he told you to. He smirks, kissing down your neck. He slowly starts fucking into you, pulling at your nipple between his fingers.

A moan erupts from your throat, slowly feeling a bit of overstimulation overtake you. You feel his pace slowly but surely pick up in speed, his pace becoming unrelenting. You feel his arm wrap around your torso to stop your squirming, his grasp tightening the more you move. You hear him groan in your ear along with the soft slapping emitting from your ass. His arm that was once wrapped around you is now creeping down to play with your clit, rubbing your bud in a circular motion.

“H-hah— fuck, keep—keep going, shit,” you moan, putting a hand over his. He kisses your neck once more, tilting your head back to rest on his shoulder. “You're so, fuck, so fucking gorgeous.”

He goes from kissing to sucking purple and blue splotches on your neck, making you moan directly into his ear. The moan seems to spur him on as his pace somehow picks up. You feel yourself teetering over the edge as you claw your nails into his arm, causing him to bite down on the sweet spot of your neck.

The bite itself emits a loud moan from you, his freakish pace adding to it. He feels you clench around him, clawing into your hip. “You gonna cum f’me? Go ahead, baby. Let it all go, I know you need it.” His words bring you over the edge as you seem to cum on his command. But that doesn't stop him.

He still hasn't came yet, you remembered. He fucks you through your orgasm, pace not seeming to be letting up anytime soon. The quickness of his hips, his balls slapping your cunt at the ferocious speed he’s kept all this time. He flips you around, making you face him. He captures your lips in a sloppy kiss, his grip on your throat tightening.

You feel his warm tongue explore your mouth, groaning into the kiss. His other hand goes back to playing with your nipple, tugging and rolling the bud between his fingers. One of your hands reaches up to his face, holding his cheek as he continues to fuck into you. He decides to change the position as he releases your throat, turning you back towards the wall, and bringing both of your hands behind you. He holds both your hands in one of his and rests his hand atop your head, his hand tangling in your hair and pulling your head back.

He begins pounding into you from behind at an erratic speed, chasing his high, “You're doing so good, baby. Keep moving your hips, shit, just like that.” He groans, slapping your ass as he continues his ministrations.

Feeling overstimulated, you pull your hand out of his and try to brush his thigh back, in an attempt to slow his pace. “F-fuck, ohmygod, p-please,” you hiccup, watching his face turn into a scowl. “What? Don't tell me you can’t, oh fuck—d-don’t tell me you can't fucking take it now?” he chuckles, bringing another hand to your ass and gripping the rose-colored flesh.

“That’s n-not, fffuck, yes— That’s not w-what I said, don't stop please, shittt,” you stutter out, he chuckles at how incoherent you’ve become and coos from behind you. “Uh huh, okay. Of course, what was I thinking? Thinking a slut like you would’ve wanted to stop,” he laughs. You whimper at his words, “I’m not a s-slut!” — “Aw, you sure?” He taunts, watching tears well up in your eyes. “Oh, pretty baby, why are you crying?” he asks, faux concern lacing his tone, “I thought you liked it when I fucked your brains out?” He taunts once again, listening to you whimper at the overstimulation.

“No words now?” You hear him ask as you mumble incoherently, reaching out toward his hand for stability. A small smirk ghosts over his lips at your neediness, his fingers ghosting over yours as his other hand continues gripping the meaty flesh of your ass. “Look at you—jumbling all of the words that come out of that pretty mouth, so pretty.” You moan pathetically, feeling your orgasm approaching once again.

You feel his cock twitch inside of you, hearing his breaths become more erratic as he also feels his climax approaching. “F-fuckkk, baby. I’m right t-there, keep moving, please,” he moans, releasing your hand and placing his on your hips. You place your hands on the concrete wall, trying your best to keep yourself stable. You bounce back towards him, letting him take a break from doing all the work. His hands caress your back, reaching to pull you up. He holds you close to his chest, catching your lips in a kiss that's different from the last one.

The kiss is so passionate that you nearly forget your surroundings. His plush lips press against yours, hungry and intense. The adrenaline rushes through both of your veins, the pent-up anger and constant arguments have built the tension between the two of you. Your hand tangles in his hair as his hand grabs your chin, deepening the kiss. You start to feel a warm sensation in your chest, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

In the midst of your shared kiss, both of your orgasms creep up on you and take you by surprise. He moans out of bliss; groaning into the kiss. Your back arches intensely as his hips still, releasing thick strings of cum into your fluttering pussy, your orgasm following soon after.

Your second orgasm hits harder than the other; you’re squirting on his cock, body jerking in his arms as he kisses your neck, easing you through your orgasm. You moan loudly, loud enough for him to have to cover your mouth. “Shhh, you did so good. So perfect f’me, my perfect girl.” He kisses your neck, watching as you come down from your orgasm. You let out cracked sobs, hearing him coo as he wipes them away.

“Breathe, baby.” He rubs your hip, massaging it softly. “You took me like such a good girl, so proud of you,” he kisses your lips, turning you back around toward him. He stares at you; his eyes are no longer lust-filled but full of love. He looks down at the shreds of your clothes, shocked. He knows he did that but it's still pretty shocking, which he laughs about.

You look at him, cracking a smile. He catches your eyes and begins smiling as well, “I really did that, huh?” he asks, a bit of shyness overtaking him. You smile timidly, nodding your head as he picks up the pieces of your suit.

“I’ll get this sewn back together for you—if you want me to,” he insists kindly, looking at you awaiting a response. You wave your hand in front of his face, “I don't need you to, I have plenty of others at your place.” He smiles at your insinuation of staying over and chuckles softly. You watch his eyes turn into crescent moons, followed by his sweet laugh.

He raises a hand to your face, caressing the soft skin of your cheek. “I’m sorry,” you pause, looking up at him to show how genuine you truly are. “For telling our business to the press, I really just wanted a rise out of you and-” “It’s okay baby.” He smiles, pinching your cheek softly.

“Even though you do get on my nerves at times, I still love you, y’know this. Plus,” he pauses, looking away for dramatic effect, “You know I hate false accusations.”

He winks at you, catching you slightly off guard. “Yeah, trust me I know. You’ve always wanted to prove a point,” you scoff with a minor eye roll. “Whatever do you mean? I’ve never wanted to prove a point in my life,” he hums, pulling up his pants. You raise your eyebrow at him, leaning back against the wall. “Don't even, you don't remember that one time when you-”

“Shhh. You're prettier when you're quiet, baby,” he says, placing his finger on your lips. You roll your eyes, smiling at his response. He smiles back at you, ticking his head to the side, “You wanna head home?” — “Please, I’m quite literally bare.” He laughs at your comment, pulling out his grappling hook and latching you on his side.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

© 2024 iTAEHYNZ.

★ TAGLIST: @boba-beom, @gardnhee, @n0-thisispatrick, @hyukafied, @luvsoobs, @choiwrld, @majestyjun, @tyunkus, @belovedxiao, @h00nerz, @sugaringgcaramel . . .

☆ NETWORKS: @k-labels . . .

[slasherbvnnie]

Until We Found You  Part II

Hi again! Welcome back for part II of Until We Found You, please head the tags: Modern Day College Scream AU, Obsessed AFAB!Reader, Eventual Poly!Ghostface x reader, Eventual NSFW, All characters 18+

Part I Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX

The police were practically useless with your case. After your parents had arrived, they checked the house while they told you to pack a bag. You went back upstairs, still cautious in case the killer was lurking somewhere. You felt your foot slip beneath you, remembering the papers on the floor. You picked them up from the ground, stuffing them into your backpack, following it up with clothes and whatever else you needed to take. You looked out of your window, seeing a red beetle pulling into your driveway and Tatum and Sidney getting out of it. You sighed, finishing packing your bag up, hearing the police begin to make their way to your room. “You can all interview her tomorrow, I want her somewhere safe for the night,” you heard your mom's voice from down the hall, putting your shoes on before peeking your head out and looking up at the officer in front of you. “Dewey,” you called out, seeing the man look back at you. “Hey, are you okay? Did the paramedics check you out already,” he questioned, nodding and offering a tiny smile. “Yup, I wasn’t hurt, just kinda scared I guess,” you murmured, what if the killer got the smart idea to frame it all on you now? Why didn’t they kill you? You weren’t scared for your life, just scared they would ruin it by setting you up.

“Oh, good, yeah. You gave your statement already, right?” He asked, you gave a hum in response. “Crazed masked killer wearing a black outfit, yup. Creepy call too, he asked me about an old horror movie, you know, the one I named Irena after. It was fucking creepy,” You said, recalling the incident from less than an hour ago. “Dewey!” Tatum called, pushing past the other officers with Sidney trailing right behind her. “Oh my god, are you okay? Did they hurt you or anything,” Tatum asked as she pulled you in for a hug. “No, I’m- I’m okay,” you reassured her as Sidney wrapped her arms around you as well.

“Honey,” your dad called, making you pull away from the girls. “The Machers said they would be happy to keep watch on all you kids tonight. I’d feel a little better knowing all your friends will be with you,” he said, you nodded. “Yeah, I’d feel better too, did you guys call Randy and Billy already?” You asked as you turned back to Sidney and Tatum. “Yeah, we called them on the way, we asked Stu if we could stay at his since his is the biggest. We kinda figured you didn’t want to be alone tonight,” Sidney said, making you smile a bit as you nodded. “Thanks,” you said before going to your parents. “What about you guys? Where are you going to stay tonight,” you didn’t want the killer to go after them, next to Irena they were the only thing you cared about. “We’ll be at your aunt's house, we will be safe. You just try relaxing okay? We’ll pick you up in the morning to take you to the station,” your mom said before hugging you. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” she sighed out.

“I guess you aren’t the killer after all, or maybe you have an accomplice helping you to throw police off your trail,” Randy said in a teasing way to you, huffing when you kicked at him. “Maybe it was you, Randy. Maybe you saw one too many Halloweens and thought you’d take some inspo,” you said as you put your head back onto Sidney’s lap. “Yeah, Randy’s a perfect killer. He probably did it because you wouldn’t sleep with him,” Stu added, making the group laugh except for Randy. “And who says it wasn’t you, Stu? Maybe you got jealous of her seeing your girlfriend's tits more than you,” Randy retorted, making Stu laugh as he looked at you. “Yeah, what's to say it wasn’t me trying to gut you tonight?” Stu asked in a teasing manner, Tatum hitting his shoulder as Billy sounded in. “Can you two idiots shut up about it? Watch the fucking movie,” he huffed out. “Billy’s right guys, I just want to relax tonight. I don’t want to hear about that stupid fucking mask anymore,” you huffed out. You didn’t want to admit it, but your heart was a little hurt. You had been obsessed with the killings, you didn’t think Weary had killed Maureen, you think it was someone who was still on the loose, the same someone who killed Casey and Steve. The use of knives, the fact that no one saw their face, and how they were killed, it was all too coincidental. You spent over a whole year obsessing over them, only to be betrayed and nearly killed. You were almost killed by the one person who made you feel alive again, someone who brought you excitement, you were hurt by that.

“I’m gonna grab a beer, anyone else want one,” Stu asked as everyone chimed in. “Then someone come and help,” he demanded as he stood, you got off of Sidney’s lap and stood up, “I’ll help. Got anything other than shitty beer down there?” You questioned as he laughed, “I think,” he replied as you two headed down to the garage.

“You know, I’m surprised the horror hottie would follow someone all alone to a dark place,” Stu teased, earning him a shove to his shoulder. “Shut up, Stu. Everyone knows you would probably go searching through my underwear drawer before trying to kill me,” you laughed, “who says I didn’t?” He questioned, making you stumble in your walk for a moment. “Chill out, I was with Tate on the phone while it was going on. I’m just fucking with you,” He chuckled, opening up the fridge and handing you the beers. “Got patron or hard lemonade, take your pick,” he hummed, you pointed at the lemonade. “Hey, Randy’s getting cut off the dumbass keeps talking about his theories,” you heard Billy from the doorway, Stu laughing as he took one of the beers from your hands. “More for me then,” Stu said as he closed the fridge. You turned and saw Billy looking at you, a bit more intensely than his usual crazy eyes. “What? Scared to be near the girl who almost got killed,” you joked as he flashed a smile. “No, surprised you’re still alive though.” “Same here,” Stu said as he looked at Billy, Billy narrowed his eyes at Stu for a moment before he went over to you to help with the beers. “Maybe ghostface has a thing for you or something,” Billy said as you laughed. “Doubt it, I think he got scared that my parents were getting home,” you said, which was partially true, but you couldn’t deny that maybe your obsession helped you survive tonight. “Maybe you have a thing for ghostface then,” Stu chimed in, making your head whip to him. You blushed, shaking your head, “as if,” you huffed out, giving a little laugh to cover up your nervousness.

Time passed by quickly that night, you all spent the night drinking and watching movies, mostly horror movies involving Jamie Lee Curtis since Stu insisted on watching them. Tate was cooped up in Stu’s room with him, Randy had passed out on the couch and Sidney and Billy were probably in the guest room fast asleep. You had snuck out into the backyard, letting your mind wander once again as you stared up at the stars. Your phone began to ring, you stared at it and debated answering before seeing it was Sidney’s number. You sighed and picked it up, wondering if she needed anything. “Hey,” you answered, hearing a familiar voice. “The Machers, huh? Don’t you know not to split up?” The voice questioned, making you sit up. “You let me live, why are you calling?” You asked, looking around before standing and heading back for the door to get inside. “I wanted to talk to my fan, I saw all your papers. Thought you would like a phone call, or are you mad I didn’t slit that pretty little throat,” the person taunted as you messed around with the doorknob, it had locked behind you when you left. “That was before I realized I was on your kill list,” you retorted, heading around the house to the front door to wake Randy up. “No hard feelings, it was before I realized you were a fan. Leave your window open when you’re back at home. I would like to see what my pretty little fan is willing to do for not slitting her throat.” The killer said, chuckling as you blushed a little, about to respond before you heard the beeping that indicated they had hung up. You smiled slightly, happy that they wanted to see you again.

The front door opened, Billy looking at you with panicked eyes and a knife in hand. “Jesus, I thought you were the weirdo, I heard you trying to open the back door,” he said, making you laugh a bit. “Yeah, sorry, the back door was locked,” you said as he moved out of the doorway. “Come on, get inside before you end up like Casey,” he said as you walked in, “not funny, Billy.” You said as you yawned. “Mind if I crash with you and Sid? I don’t want Randy to make any passes,” you asked as Billy laughed, heading to the kitchen to put up the knife. “Be my guest, you and Sid can have the bed, I’ll take the floor.” “What a gentleman,” you teased. “Shut up before I let Randy take a stab at you.” He said, mimicking a stabbing movement as you laughed and pushed him.

[incognit0slut]

ok song request idea: dress by taylor swift. like spence and reader work together and everyone just thinks they’re best friends but in reality they are much more. anyways the team goes out and reader wears a special little dress and spencer goes a little crazy and yeah that’s the idea

Such a perfect song, thank you for the idea! And btw this is just very witty writing please enjoy my sense of humor yall🙂

Take it off

or in summary, the one where Spencer has a hard time keeping his hands to himself.

cw: 18+ implied sexual content but nothing too explicit; wc: 1.8k

MASTERLIST

“…only bought this dress so you could take it off…”

IT STARTED WITH A GLANCE. The subtle look he gave on her arrival at this dinner festivity the team decided to put together had him quivering in his seat, his eyes almost bulging out of its socket as they roamed across the piece of clothing plastered on her body, or perhaps, the lack of it. The silk material hugged her curves so effortlessly, highlighting the way her luscious body was pressed along the short fabric that he was so close to whimpering like a dog.

It was an obscene thought, one he never considered crossing his mind and one that would leave him extremely appalled if anyone knew the truth of it. Comparing himself to a domestic mammal just because he was prone to submit to a master...

He must be mad. Utterly, completely out of his mind.

Yet he couldn't help it. Not when he was practically following her with an imaginary tail wagging between his legs. Not when she looked like a goddess and he was inclined to worship her existence. It was a sense of devotion and adoration, like a feeling of reverence for her curves and figure, for the way she carried herself every time she moved.

It was an intense sensation that was hard to explain, but Spencer would describe it as close to paying tribute to her beauty. To everything about her. Not only was the feeling overwhelming, but it was also intoxicating how the stolen glances enticed the need to reach out and feel those curves right in the palm of his hands.

It was torture. It was an incredibly torturous endurance to be held in his place while she looked like that. Smooth legs, exposed back, and soft cleavage teasing his whim. She also smelled incredibly delicious. A fragrance of delicate flowers with a hint of warm vanilla that made him dizzy with need. He needed to be kept on a leash before he did something he would regret.

Because he needed to behave. Between undressing her with his eyes and wanting to grab her by the waist just to ravish her completely, he needed to keep his calm between his peers, especially when Prentiss had accidentally caught him staring—which he had to mask as finding a newfound interest in the tablecloth single-handedly picked by Rossi, the host of this joyous event.

But it was getting hard to conceal his shaking hands, to act as if he wasn’t craving her touch. It was getting even harder when she suddenly came up to him later that night as he stood by the dessert table, a variety of sweetened goods bought from the most authentic patisserie in town.

"Hey, Spencer." Dear god, even her voice sounded like velvet to him. He watched as her lips slipped into a taunting smile. "You look handsome tonight."

He looked down at his attire. He was never one to put much thought into his choice of clothing, his concern mainly for comfort, not for style. But tonight he adorned himself in a crisp white button-down under the best suit jacket he possessed. It's a black-tie event, Rossi had said the day before. He wasn't sure why his colleague wanted to host a simple dinner into a fancy soirée, but he was a mere guest, and he'd follow anything the host of the night instructed.

He also felt rather silly wearing this bowtie, but after hearing her genuine compliment, it gave him a sense of pride and joy. It also gave him a boost of confidence as he took a step closer, his eyes raking over her body very slowly as if he was taking his time relishing the stunning view in front of him.

She felt the intensity of his gaze as he muttered, "And you look unbelievably irresistible."

A choked laughter slipped out of her mouth. Talking to Spencer had always been interesting, especially whenever he had something factual to share, but the whimsical words coming out of his mouth was what amused her the most.

"I'm told that I look pretty tonight, but I do like that better." She lifted her glass to her lips and noticed the way his eyes lingered on the top of her dress, a full display of cleavage visible to his enjoyment. "So I take it you're fond of the dress?"

"It's exquisite." She giggled at his choice of words. But then the amusement in her eyes slipped into bewilderment as he continued, "Although as much as I enjoy seeing it on your body, I think prefer it on the floor."

It took all of her abilities not to spit out the sweet taste of the expensive wine she just sipped in her mouth. She had to swallow the liquid down her throat and take a deep breath before she could do anything, her mind haunted by the specter of his hands fiddling the zipper on her back, rough fingers grazing her skin as they slowly slid down her body.

"Spencer," she finally murmured, trying to sound disapproving, but it was far too husky.

"What?" He asked innocently. "I'm being honest."

She narrowed her eyes at him.

What was he scheming? What kind of game was he playing, proposing suggestive words, pushing all of her buttons beneath the innocent look he portrayed? The air was suddenly charged with tension. It was a palpable sensation of yearning and lust that came with a sense of danger and risk. It was like a wave of heat washing over her, a very primal and overwhelming feeling that was extremely difficult to control.

Deciding that she wanted to participate in his game, she knew the only way to get the upper hand was to give him a taste of his own medicine. She twisted her head and peered at him through her lashes before executing her revenge.

"Then it's a good thing I bought it so you could take it off."

Perhaps to those around them, they looked like good friends engaging in an innocent banter, heads together, whispering silly jokes. Not in the middle of exchanging explicit promises while he attempted to school his expression on the suggestion she was spouting.

He leveled her gaze. "Statistically speaking, ripping it off would give me a higher chance to do the things I want to do to you sooner."

"Yeah?" She quirked an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by this. "Give me a number then."

"Well, satin is a very delicate fabric and is quite frail and fragile. So it would take me approximately..." He looked away, marveling at the possibilities, before assessing her with a look that had her feeling extremely flustered. "...three seconds to rip it off."

Her tongue swiped her bottom lip while his eyes followed the movement. "You’d actually rip the dress?"

His gaze lingered on her mouth. "In a heartbeat."

"It's very expensive."

"I'll buy you a new one."

Her head was spinning. The image of his large hands gripping onto the fabric and tearing it apart should've repulse her, it was such a primal thing to do that it seemed so close to an animal-like instinct. Like a dog. Like a wolf. With the heat of his gaze, she was sure he could even devour her the moment his hands touched her skin. Eating her whole would be an extreme notion, but eating her like a man starved as he buried his head between her thighs was something she considered possible.

His gaze was so intense that she had to look away to calm her breathing, to let her heart normalize its pace. But then she felt fingertips brush her shoulder. It was light, almost imperceptible, causing a shiver to run down her spine; goosebumps breaking out all over her limbs. This was extremely dangerous, but he had some kind of pull toward her and all the rational thought keeping her sane flew out the window.

She bit her bottom lip as those warm fingers made their way down the sensitive skin of her inner bicep, then slowly made their way down her forearm. It wasn't until she felt the pressure of his palm on her backside that she gasped in surprise. And it wasn't light—oh no, it was immensely rough. His hand gripped onto her left cheek with utmost force, squeezing it thoroughly that she had to straighten herself, her eyes going frantic.

"Spencer!" She hissed, looking around them as she swat his arm away.

"I'm sorry! I can't help it." He cocked his head, his eyes still piercing onto her ass as his intrusive thought won over him. "What underwear are you wearing? You’re incredibly smooth."

She didn't know whether to laugh or hit some sense into him. "Please behave, someone might see us."

"But they didn't." He gave her a sheepish smile, nodding his head towards their friends who were deep in conversation with one another. "And they won't."

She held the urge to roll her eyes. "Just keep your hands to yourself, Dr. Reid."

"Or what?"

"Or..." She glanced at him, noticing the way he was watching her. The sparkle in those hazel orbs was enticing, they were somewhat deep in this pleading yet captivating manner that reminded her of doe, puppy-like eyes. Seeing this she couldn't help but muster, "Or I might have to put you on a leash."

The heat creeping along his cheeks was enough for her to spew out an amused laugh. "Spencer Reid," she goaded, enjoying the way he was flustering over her teasing. "Didn't know you had it in you."

Spencer looked away, clearly embarrassed being caught of his lewd thoughts. He was trying to avoid her gaze as he picked up his forgotten glass resting on the table. She couldn't stop herself as she leaned forward on her heels and hid herself from any onlookers, slightly settling her lips on the crook of his neck, inches away from tasting his skin.

"And to answer your question," she whispered, waiting for him to casually take a lazy sip of his drink. "I'm not wearing anything underneath."

She couldn't help the triumphant smirk as he choked on the mouthful of wine he just swallowed. He then gaped at her, absolutely flabbergasted, and she gave him one last blistering look before excusing herself on the pretense of the bathrooms. Her hips swayed with every move it was hard for him to look away, because all he could think of now was to run his hand up her thighs just to be greeted with soft, wet folds aching to be touched. Aching to be tasted.

It took a lot of self-control for him not to bark.

[hyunsvngs]

kinktober !

kink: knifeplay

pairing: kim seungmin x fem!reader

wc: 3k

knifeplay: consensual BDSM edgeplay involving knives, daggers, and swords as a source of stimulation.

It was perfect. You had fake blood all over your room, staining your once blue sheets, but the costume was perfect. 

For Halloween, your friends had decided to host a party at one of the dorms. You and your best friend, Jeongin, had decided it would be the best idea to dress up as Sidney Prescott and Ghostface. Your costume was quite easy - you already had an old denim jacket you could cover in blood, and a basic lilac top to go underneath it. When put together with a simple black pair of jeans, you felt completely ready. Your costumes were going to be the best.

The Instagram pictures would be amazing, too, you decided while walking to the party. You didn’t have a long way to walk, and it was quite amusing listening to the kids screaming for candy outside people’s doors - but all you could hope was that one of the members of 3Racha had actually cleaned the dorm this time, and not left it all on Hyunjin.

Music was already booming when you arrived, reverberating around your sober brain and making you wince. Would you regret coming here?

You realised you really did regret it, when the front door swung open and you were met with fox-like eyes in a… a fucking Pokemon trainer costume. Felix emerged from behind him, sharp yellow ears perched on his head and his cheeks covered in red. 

“Listen,” Jeongin began, gloved hand reaching out to you. You sighed, shutting your eyes. “It was Felix’s idea. Look at him. He’s really convincing, and I’m sorry I didn’t text, but Chan’s put this stupid no phone ban on and-”

“Look!” Felix chirped, and when you finally saw him… well, you understood what Jeongin meant. He was in yellow dungarees, tail wrapped on a string around his waist and little ears bobbing with his glee. When he looked at you, his face fell. “Oh. Oh, I’m so sorry. Did you guys have something planned, or-”

“No, not at all, Lixie,” You murmured, pulling him in for a hug. He really was so cute. No one could resist him. “I’ll find my Ghostface somewhere.”

Felix nuzzled into the hug, wrapping his arms around you, before he was squealing. “Seungmin’s dressed up as Ghostface! Oh, Innie, did you plan this?”

You blinked, turning to Jeongin. Seungmin was your arch nemesis, but only purely on the basis that you both had some heavily unresolved sexual tension.  Jeongin wouldn’t do this to you - or so you thought, because when you looked at his face, he was looking extremely guilty. “I know you have some… issues, but it needs to end now. It’s making things awkward, and, and… you can take pictures together, y’know? Then be friends,” He was mumbling, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. His Pokemon hat obscured most of his face, but you could still see the pout on his lips. Fuck this. You had the two sweetest men in front of you apologising, expecting you to be angry at them, but even you weren’t that mean.

You sighed, finally pushing past the two figures to enter the party. You were immediately attacked by a black plastic streamer dangling from the ceiling, and you swatted it away with a grunt. “It’s fine. Let’s do the pictures, then.”

It had always been the plan - to take pictures all together before the party really got into full swing. You had a feeling you’d been a little late because there were already quite a few people there. Still, you diligently walked into the kitchen behind Felix and Jeongin anyway, where everyone was standing around, conversing.

There he was. Ghostface mask pulled halfway off of his head to reveal dark, menacing features and a black cloak draped over his slender figure. Chunky black boots made an echoing noise as he tapped his foot impatiently on the tile, sipping out of a glass with one gloved hand and the other holding - a knife. It glinted in the light as he spun it around with his fingers, playing way too comfortably with the blade. Oh. Oh, no. Someone was playing a practical joke on you. 

“Is that knife real?” You squeaked, and Seungmin turned to you with a glare. “Like, it’s not a prop…? Why do you have a real knife?”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow, then his lips were curling upwards with a smile. “To finally kill you with.”

“Haha, that’s so funny,” You deadpanned, but half of you was considering if he was being genuine about it. It wouldn’t surprise you - he was a sadistic fuck, always had been since you met him. It was why you wanted him so bad. “Let’s take these pictures. I’m already over it.”

Felix fiddled with his camera, flicking off the lens cap and trying to get it in the perfect position on the counter. You scurried in front of Seungmin as he walked over after placing his cup aside. Once Felix had set the timer, he ran in front of the lens and clutched onto Jeongin. Oh, yeah. What was Seungmin supposed to do, given that you were matching?

You had your answer quickly. With one gloved hand, he pulled his mask down and pulled you into him by the waist, and then he was positioning the knife at your exposed collarbone. It nipped teasingly, the blade threatening to draw blood. You looked down in shock, only to see Seungmin’s hand confidently holding the handle - god, was he skilled with this? He hadn’t killed people, hopefully, but… what if he was into something like this?

Wetness pooled in your panties at the thought. It’s a kink straight out of your deepest, darkest desires. The idea of being too scared to move in case the knife bites at your skin, dripping crimson liquid down your body only to be lapped up by the blade again… yeah. It was hot, and for some reason, with your fake-enemy pressed against you, it was even hotter. You didn’t even blink when the flash went off, too focused on trying to keep your breaths even. 

Seungmin dropped his hand once the picture was taken, and then he yanked the mask back again. He was staring at you with a bewildered expression, but he looked somewhat impressed. Pulling you to one side by your arm, he gripped your waist again, trapping you against the wall so he could whisper into your ear. “Did you get turned on when I held that knife to your neck?”

“No, what’s wrong with you-“

“I heard you holding your fucking breath,” Seungmin hissed. “That’s fucking insane, you know? Dressing up as Sidney and then getting all… like that. It’s like you wanted me to do it.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. Seungmin’s eyes flitted around your face. “I was actually meant to match with Jeongin, so maybe I wanted him to.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Seungmin scoffed, rolling his eyes. He pinched his temples, and then he sighed. “I know you want to fuck me. God, I want to fuck you too, so bad. I’m sick of playing this stupid push and pull when I could be upstairs fucking you with this knife to your neck right now.”

Your eyes widened. You let out a puff of air, trying to find the words to say, but you only noticed that fuck, Seungmin was awfully close all of a sudden. His breath was heavy on your burning cheeks. When you looked around the room, you could see that no one had noticed the two of you - Felix was too busy still jumping around and Changbin and Jisung had dressed as Peter Pan and Tinkerbell. You wanted to coo at Changbin, his bulging arms so adorable in the little green dress and wings, but you were definitely more engrossed in what Seungmin had to say.

“The party. We can’t leave, you know?” You finally spoke, and Seungmin pulled back. You wanted to cry. He looked around the room, nodding, before he was pulling the mask back onto his face and obscuring his annoyingly perfect features. 

“Half an hour. Jisung’s room, upstairs. Is that alright with you?” His voice was muffled, and you had to crane your head a bit to hear him. You nodded nonetheless, and he gave you a quick wave before disappearing into the crowd of dressed up men. 

You sighed heavily. This was about to be the longest half an hour of your life.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Jisung’s room was chaotic. You had literally no idea why Seungmin had decided on his room out of everyone’s - surely Hyunjin’s would be better, or even Chan’s with the mood lighting? You opened the door anyway, entering the small room and stepping over piles of clothes to lay back on the bed. At least the bedsheets were cleaned. Jisung’s lamp was the only source of light, leaving the room basked in a creepy orange Halloween atmosphere. It definitely fitted the setting.

It had been exactly half an hour. Seungmin was late. Was he ever late? In your whole pseudo-friendship, you were sure he’d never been late, and-

The door burst open and a masked figure emerged. You jolted, sitting upright on your hands and blinking at the man in costume. It briefly crossed your mind that you couldn’t even be sure it was Seungmin, and then he was tearing the mask off, throwing it aside. 

“It’s still me,” He said, tone soft. Was he a mind reader as well as a borderline psychopath? You nodded, wiggling forward on the bed when he sat across from you. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Did you bring the knife?” You responded. Seungmin burst out laughing, and then he was bringing it out from his jean pocket, beneath the cloak. 

“You are very fucked up. Has anyone ever told you that?” He murmured. You stared at his gloved palms as he threw the knife aside, moving on the bed to pin you down against the mattress. You wiggled impatiently, spreading your legs to allow him between them. Your chest heaved, staring up at him with doe eyes as he blinked down at you.

“‘M not fucked up,” You mumbled, pouting. Seungmin chuckled.

“What was it Billy said in the movie again? ‘It certainly fucked you up, it made you have sex with a psychopath’? Is that not what’s happening right now, baby?” His breath was hitting your face again, and you just couldn’t help it this time. With one hand on the back of his neck, you pulled him down, pressing your lips against his in the filthiest kiss you’d ever shared. Seungmin groaned, hands meeting your waist and delving into your mouth with his tongue. You let him nibble into your bottom lip, let him nearly draw blood with his teeth until you were whining, bucking your hips up for more. 

You whined, chasing his lips for more kisses. You heard fabric rustling, and then Seungmin was pressing an ice cold blade to your neck. You shifted immediately, laying back against the pillow and looking up at Seungmin obediently. He just smiled, appearing borderline menacing in the dim lighting of the room. You were so fucking wet.

“You do get off on this,” Seungmin mused. He leaned back on his ankles, letting the knife drag down your body. With a clean swipe, it was cutting through the fabric of your tank top and leaving you in just your bra. “Should I make you bleed, hm?”

“You can- you can do anything you want, Seungmin,” You sighed, arching your back to get more of the feeling of the blade against you. Seungmin bit his lip, dragging the blade down to your jeans. He wouldn’t be able to cut through that fabric - it’s too thick, he’d need something sharper. You could practically see the cogs turning in his head and then he was shaking his head, unbuttoning your jeans and yanking them down your legs. They balanced precariously on one ankle, and you kicked them off before eyeing Seungmin up and down. “Are you… gonna get naked, or?”

“I have different plans for tonight,” Seungmin replied quickly. He gripped the knife firmer this time, until he was dragging it down to your underwear. You knew you were wet, and you shut your eyes and moaned loudly when he pressed the blade into the wet spot forming in the fabric. You thanked every god that the music was still just as loud as earlier. “I’m going to finger you and play around with this knife. I don’t think you could handle more tonight.”

He was right. Another thing that irritated you beyond belief was the fact that Seungmin seemed to read your mind. First with your silly knife play kink, and now with the fact that you definitely couldn’t handle full blown sex tonight. You would’ve tried, and gotten yourself all fuzzy over it - but he knew better. 

“Okay,” You agreed. He hummed once more, and then he hooked the blade into the lace of your underwear, cutting them off of your body. He was a bit heavy handed though, and your legs thrashed when the blade nicked your skin just a little, causing a small crimson red cut to bloom on your hip bone.

“Oh, would you look at that?” He ogled the cut, running his thumb over it. It made you whine in pain, yet he ignored you and thrust his thumb into your mouth. The taste was tangy, a bit too metallic for your liking but the whole thing was so fucking hot you couldn’t deny him anything. “Did you like that, too? Okay. We’ll explore that another time.”

Seungmin threw the knife aside once more, and then two long fingers were pressing into your folds. You laid there with legs spread, letting him explore every dip and crevice in your pussy and examine how wet you were. You knew you were dripping, and he did too - it was just a waiting game. 

You squirmed, bucking your hips up. “I’m wet enough. I promise that I am, just-“

You gasped when he pressed the knife against your throat again. You hadn’t even seen him grab it. “Stay fucking still,” He warned. “I decide when you’re ready.”

Well, you could definitely get on board with that. Seungmin sunk his middle finger into you nonetheless, meeting no resistance. Your hole was dripping around him, leaking down to his knuckle and making him sigh in approval at the sight. He still had his gloves on, the faux leather buttery and smooth inside of your hole. “This pussy’s tight, huh?”

“I’d clench it for you,” You breathed out, letting one of your hands grab your tits over your bra. The knife was still pressed tightly against the column of your throat, but you managed to pull your tits out of the lace, making Seungmin’s eyes instantly flit down to your pebbled nipples. He started to thrust his finger inside of you, the material of his gloves dragging on your rim. “I’d- I’d clench around your cock, Seungie. Make it so tight for you.”

“Yeah?” Seungmin breathed. On his next thrust in, he pushed another finger in, and then he was curling two directly at that lovely spongy spot inside of you. “I’ll look forward to it, baby. Do my fingers feel good?”

“So good,” You gushed, tweaking your nipples with your fingers. “It’s so good, and- the knife, oh god-“

“Is it like you imagined, yeah?” He moved up to your side, easing his pressure on the blade so you could turn your head and kiss him. It was just as filthy, and he moaned in approval when your walls fluttered around his digits. When he pulled away, a string of saliva connected you both. “Maybe next time, I’ll fuck you with the handle of the knife.”

You keened, starting to bounce your hips against his hand. He obliged with your movements, pressing his palm up against your clit and letting you grind the sensitive bud into his calloused hand. It was just the right amount of soft and rough, making your toes curl in your socks and your orgasm build steadily, a white hot pleasure in your pussy. 

“It’s- I need it-“

“God, do you even know what you need?” Seungmin chuckled, kissing your cheek. “I think you need to cum for me, don’t you?”

You nodded erratically, letting your head fall onto his shoulder. Seungmin dropped the knife to his opposite side once more, replacing it with a firm grip to your throat with his spare hand. The sight of his gloved digits around your throat and restricting your airflow had you wailing once more, gripping his wrist and grinding with renewed fervour. 

“I think- oh, I’m gonna cum,” Your lips parted, letting out muted moans and whines at the feeling of his fingers inside of you. “Oh, yeah, I’m gonna cum!”

“Cum for me then, no need to make a noise,” Seungmin was still amused, and you gasped before you were cumming. “That’s it, there you go.”

You felt your hole gush around his fingers, soaking the material of his gloves with white cum and your clit throbbing through your orgasm. It felt good, not only to cum but to also finally have some tension resolved with such a prominent person in your life. 

When you finally came to, you were still gasping, breath heavy and burning your lungs with every exhale. You heard Seungmin coo at you, laying back and dragging you onto his chest. 

“Good?” He questioned, and you nodded.

Then, something hit you. “Seungmin?” He hummed in response. “You cut my shirt open. What do I wear for the rest of the party?”

Seungmin stopped breathing, and then he burst out laughing, full body laughs wreaking havoc on his body. 

“It’s not funny!” You whined, but you were giggling too, slapping his chest playfully.

“You can wear the cloak, baby,” He kissed your nose. “I have clothes on underneath.”

You hummed, nodding. “You still have to wear the mask though.”

“Fuckin’ freak,” He mumbled, but he was still grinning.

“You like it.”

Seungmin kissed you again, chaste and sweet. “Unfortunately, yes.”

[hyperactively-me]

king!ghost x reader -- meeting

You couldn’t sleep. Not after dinner, no, not after he was seated directly across from you. He didn’t take off his helmet, not yet, at least. He politely declined a plate as you were all being served. He mostly stared at you when you ate. You had emphasized stabbing your food with your fork, staring straight at his helmet with disdain as you angrily bit into your food. Your mother had kicked you under your seat multiple times for you to knock it off.

You’re lying in bed, tossing and turning, just knowing that he’s sleeping within your palace walls. It makes your skin crawl. After another hour, you grow sick of being restless, so you decide to take a walk to the garden. Sliding out of bed, you wrap a robe around your frame and slide on a pair of slippers. 

You managed to push open the heavy wooden door to the garden, stumbling onto the stone path. The moonlight shone down on you, casting the faintest of shadows within the garden walls. This was just what you needed. Fresh air to take your mind off the anguish you were experiencing. You wrapped your robe a little tighter around your figure, the cold air nipping at your skin. Calmness settled into your skin as you strolled deeper into the garden, admiring the flowers and vegetation. You come to stand under a large willow tree in the corner of the garden. A quiet stream runs past, a pond tucked away down the path. You weren't sure how long you stood under the tree, letting the breeze caress your hair and the scents of the garden encompass you. 

You stood for a moment, hugging your arms as you stepped back inside, abruptly noticing how bitterly cold it was in the shadows. You grew uncomfortable, the hair on your neck standing. You felt someone was watching you. At that, you turn around to go back inside, shuffling through the grass as fast as you can, slipping through the door that was left slightly ajar. 

. . . 

As you make your way up the stairs to the corridor where your room is, you see the light of a lantern cascading down the walls. You stop for a brief moment, neck stretching to see past the corner where the light was coming from. And there you see him, a skull masked adorned on his face, settled in a spare seat in the hallway, one used only for decoration. He’s wearing a simple black tunic and pants, all of his armor discarded. He’s holding a cloth in his hand. Your eyebrows are raised in confusion, peeking around the corner. Until you realize he also has a knife in his hand. Your breath is caught in your throat as you pull back, turning around to practically sprint back to your room, but not before you heard the chair squeak. 

Your blood runs cold, and for a moment, you can’t move. 

“What’re you doin’?”

You freeze.

You slowly turn around, facing him. Ghost. The first thing you notice is his eyes are uncovered. They’re brown. The skull adorns his face like a warning. 

You take in his presence, taking a few steps back to put distance in between the two of you. You look down at his hand, still gripping the knife. 

“What are you doing?” you motion to the knife in his hand. 

He tilts his head, looking down at his knife like he doesn’t know how it got there. He flips it in his grasp once before sheathing it in a small pocket on the side of his pants. You wince slightly at the sudden movement. 

“Thinkin’” he responds, voice gruff. He takes a single step towards you. You take a step back. 

“What are you doin’?” he asks again, crossing his arms in front of his chest. His arms are huge, you notice. Stop that, reprimanding yourself. 

“I don’t see how it's any of your business as to what I’m doing in my own home,” you retort, squeezing your robe tighter around your body. 

He takes a breath, a low chuckle escaping. 

“Listen here, sweetheart,” he says with a smirk, his deep voice resonating through the hall. “I’m not tryin' to pry, but you've been actin' a certain way ever since I’ve arrived. I don’t appreciate it,” he states, shifting slightly. 

You feel small under his gaze. But you shoot him a glare nonetheless, frustration bubbling up within you. 

“Well, you can mind your own business. I don't need your so-called ‘concern.’ Why do you think I’m acting this way?”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by your defiance, but he’s silent. Serves him right. He steps towards you again, but this time you don’t move. He takes another step. Another. Until he’s inches away. You still haven’t moved. Your neck is craned up to look at him, disdain written on your face. 

His hand reaches up to your cheek, fingertips just barely ghosting over your skin as he pushes stray strands of hair behind your ear. 

You tense up, your chest heaving as you stand your ground.

His eyes shift down for a split second, pulling his hand away in a split second. “Hmm,” he hums, a glint in his eyes. 

And, without a word, he makes his way down the hallway silently. 

You stand there, confused. You have to remind yourself to breathe. What just happened?

- - - - -

(masterlist)

[christinebloodwrittings]

To hunt or be hunted #11

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader x Lucifer Summary: Drinks with Alastor turned the heat up! Warnings: Gore, blood, Smut.

Thank you so much to the amazing @hazelfoureyes she's the author of the smut here! She was an amazing help for this, so go to her profile and give her lots of love!! Her masterlist

Hazbin Taglist: @sakuraluna2468 @boogiemansbitch @mysterypotatoink @sibsteria @cherry-cola-100 @readergirlstuff @phoenixica24 @martinys-world @alientee @jellyroom2 @jewelsrules @ladyzaunis @zealousllamawolf @kittycat246 @shamblezzz @looking1016

“Alastor, it’s me” An Alastor with a seemingly white tie ensemble only with red and black colors, opened the door to his studio. Red evening tailcoat, It’s not closed entirely, double breasted black dress shirt, high pants held up by suspenders, winged collar and butterfly bow tie, he looked amazing. That was, at your time, the highest and most formal wear for men.

“Y/n dearest, I thought you had forgotten of me” he offered his hand to you, pretending to be hurt, “Never, sorry for the delay, the comedian that arrived a while ago was a blast, made me laugh to tears” as you walked up the stairs he eyed the dress you wore, feeling disgust as he knew who had tailored for you.

With a click of his fingers, his green magic made a flash on your body, flapper’s dress red and black materialized. It had tons of black beads and shiny flowers. Your hands were covered by laced long gloves. Golden medium high heels that matched the golden headband.

“Hey, this is lovely” he smiled proud of his work, “Figured it was better than the ensemble you were wearing” You didn't ignore his bitter tone, but you didn't want to rub it in, instead you rolled your eyes and smiled as he prompt you to sit on a chair near his radio panel.

“I have a surprise for you” he pulled up an album, in between the pages were pieces of newspapers all about the Axe-man of Louisiana, “How did you brought this down here?” he put in your hands, allowing you to pass on the pages. “I have my ways” he was proud, even more so when you started showing signs of homesickness.

“I don’t regret a single one of this encounters, except the crazy as fuck letter that I wrote” which was in one of the pages, a subtle 'oh' from you made Alastor laugh, "Do you know that I read that letter on the radio? I don't know how I didn't laugh while I was doing so, but as soon as it was off the air I couldn't stop” you hit him on the shoulder playfully.

“That was my last murder, I wasn’t in my right mind, the cut was sloppy and I didn’t even reached the brain, it was a mess” he was invested in the story, you could tell by the way his smile looked more relaxed.

“The wife saw me but didn’t said anything, instead she wanted me to confirm that he was dead, as soon as I did she thanked me” part of you was pissed she didn’t felt fear, the other was at peace with that, “It made me sick to see her wounds, but I guess it didn't make sense to think that a bad man could be a good husband” your eye roll and sarcasm put an amused grin on his face.

“I’m not a good man, but I know I can be a good husband” he took your hand, knowing your point but still making his own on top, “Because you don’t abuse little girls Alastor, that’s the line between a bad man and a monster” and he was proud his mom taught him better, “You eliminated all those vermin, how you’re not in heaven?” in his mind no one so well thought as yourself should be in hell just for taking out a contaminator, “Because a life is a life I guess, not matter how worthless” not enough, he needed to make the puzzle you were less of a mystery.

“How did you died?” to him it didn’t made sense, your appearance, “The Axe-man did it” but he wasn’t satisfied, he needed to take the bodies from the closet, “Is this your real face?” taking a better posture on the chair you sternly made him explain, “What do you mean?”.

“You used a mask when you got here, even in life you were famous because you were never identified” he was truly informed, a fan of your ways , “What was my modus operandi?” you asked, eyeing a photograph of the bayou in between the pages, “Axe through the head” he answered,  “Face” you corrected him.

“I did the same with me, what I came to know later was that there was a fire caused by a misplaced candle, took years of deep care to my body to be this soft, but I had no face” that information was new, “I don’t care how much I like you Alastor, but if you try to say this to anyone else my coming back victim will be the radio demon” to be fair, that thought turned him on, just the feeling of your fangs on him again was enough to rile him up.

“Charlie gave me a face, this one-” he placed his hand on your cheek, appreciating the feeling, “For your information, dying by your hand, would be my upmost pleasure” a crack of his chair was heard before he placed a gentle kiss on your temple.

“What made you do a contract with her?” he had thought that question for a while, Charlie didn’t exactly gave him an answer when he approached her, “What will you give me in exchange?” he swayed his hand in the air, the wall turning onto itself.

“The pleasure of seeing me kill him” sat in a chair was your ex-husband, almost unrecognizable in all the bruises and cuts everywhere.

You were speechless, he did that for you? Alastor turned the man that hurt you in his own punching bag, just for you. “I was angry, she wanted to help, I wanted her to die” you admitted, watching closely all the wounds on his body, “The princess will die at the end of this?!” he rose from his chair, green hue surrounding him.

With a smirk you out yourself at his level, “You sound a tad too preoccupied for someone that made her sign a blank contract” his ears pinned down his head, “I have my reasons” he added, bitterly so,  “Too bad she can’t help you with that leash” your fingers grabbed the invisible pull around his neck making him growl, “You’re despicable” he spit, his eyes turning colors, black and red dials, “And you a manipulative narcissist, hungry for power, cannibalistic fool” a growl of your own made him shiver in place instinctively.

Pulling on your hair he took your lips on a kiss, your hands flying to his neck, hugging his shoulders yearning for his touch. His tongue pushed his way into your mouth, an audible yelp got swallowed from your mouth my his.

“You two are crazy” your ex cried from his seat, calling yours and his attention. “My darling, this is one of your birthday gifts” he pointed to all the black ties around his body and the chair, “Car cables, how many watts?” his hands circled your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder, wickedly smiling when he uttered “39.9” with a purr, “That’s twice the electric chair, your idea of foreplay is splendid” you kissed his cheek earning a sigh from him.

Your eyes darted towards your ex, “The mobster’s wife drowned our daughter in the river, just so you know” while he started crying his guilt out you walked up to the switch, “Start recording, I want all of hell to hear him later” he pushed a button on his panel “Of course mon cœur”.

As soon as you flipped the switch, the radio electricity that Alastor provided overloaded your ex-husband's body and made it blow into a thousand pieces, staining your dress and some of the walls. “The dress is ruined” you shook some of the blood off, before you were pulled to Alastor’s lap, “You’re a tease” you smiled, “And a manipulative narcissist” he used your own words against you, but with a laugh.

“She can’t help?” he referred to Charlie and his deal with her, “The only one that can has a short sense of humor towards you” you booped his nose, “You’re hilarious” his eye roll made you laugh, “And you…prideful-ah!” he bit you on the neck, “But you like me either way” he knew you liked him at least a little bit, “Guilty as charged” however, he knew he wasn’t the only one.

“But you like him as well” he made your heart beat painfully in your chest, “I went from nothing to have two sources of affection, I became an addict” he pressed his cheek to yours, “I…mmh” he bit his tongue, “I don’t know what I can do, whatever I choose will hurt me, and one of you” he pulled you closer while you spoke, your knees straddling his hips.

“How about both?” he thought out loud, “I didn’t take you for a sharer” ‘If that can overrule the deal, make you stay and arrange it so we won’t lose you, then’ he thought, “I can swallow my pride that far” then his confession seemed so surreal, “Is that my second gift?” he smiled trying to mask his embarrassment.

“I hope it can suffice” he whispered, his hand petting your hair, “I don’t want to seem greedy” could you really date both? “Oh you are, darling, but I bet the king and I adore you either way” head pressed against his chest, felt right, just as much as having Lucifer curl up with you at night.

“Thank you” he hummed in response, “That won’t do” you thought it for a second, “Want me to take the lead?” maybe he wanted a reward for being so good to you, “I already gave you my answer a while ago” ‘Devour me’ you remembered his words, while adjusting yourself on his lap, you could feel his erection, “All this for little old me? How flattering” the clothed friction electrified his senses.

“You know what I found out?” Your breath ghosted along his neck, little bite marks already reddening as your hands found their way to his pants. “You love being in control, but even more so…” you bit gently on his neck, “When I control you” he let a shaky breath escape his throat, making it looked like he had been holding it for a minute now.

“Hands behind your back” you took off his belt, twisting it around his wrists, tightly but not so much, “I want to thank you for the amount of trust you give me” Zipper down, you grabbed either side with your hands and pulled them down with a swift yank.  

“I’ll tear you apart if you…-” tell anyone? No, you were going to have him all to yourself, “Tempting, but I would never” you stopped your movements when you caught a magnetic scent, “Is this a new cologne?” he hummed a yes, “You like it?” you nodded excitedly, “Yes, and though the white tie dressing is sexy, is horribly tedious to undo” the red and black suit was too gorgeous to ruin, but he had that in mind.

“Claw your way through it” he furrowed his brow, “I don’t want to ruin it” the fabric was far too exquisite, “You’ll make me beg for it?” his words made your tail slightly wag, “How far can you swallow your pride?” he laughed in response, “Chérie, please claw your way through it” It was the show of strength that took him by surprise, not that it wasn’t adding to the strain of his cock against his underwear. You ripped the pant legs off in tandem, slowing down as you brought your hand to the curved bulge now open for you to enjoy. Finally, a moment to pause.

His hands wouldn’t be stopping you now, but the way his was cutting into his lip as he bit down in anticipation made it clear you were not unwanted.

A slow drag down his clothed erection, small wet spot forming at the head. “Now this, this is all for me. No denying that, no questioning.” His hips bucked up instinctively, chasing your finger for more friction. A little giggle from you, realizing how much fun you were about to have. 

Leaning down between his legs, you let your nose slid up his length. Hot breath ghosting over his head, that wet spot growing as he twitched.

“Y/N…,” he growled, “Enough.” 

You shook your head and hooked your fingers under his waistband and peeling them off. A hiss as the air hit his precum slicked cockhead. Heavy and hot, you took him in your hands. No stroking, no squeezing. Your eyes looked into his, attempting to look as innocent and confused as you could to counter the small rage overwhelmed by arousal.

“Should I stop then?” A squeeze at his base. Another raise of his hips. 

His head drooped down, a nearly imperceivable shake of his head. “Good boy” Your hand rose up slowly, then back down. Each stroke you rose further and further until your hand was rolling over his head with every pass. Clear and sticky, his precum slowly made a lovely wet sound fill the space between you two. As his breath began to hitch, shoulders tightening and drawing in you, you stilled your hand. A whimper was your reward.

Letting a beat come, feeling that pulse slowdown in the heat in your hands, you only then began again. Taking pleasure in biting at his inner thighs when you noticed his body tensing up with the next attempt to cum, the pain breaking him just enough to let you regain the control. 

You brought him closer and closer each time, managing a third before you finally gave in and let him meet his climax and paint your knuckles and his station floor. “Sloppy” you mocked, letting your finger rub at his slit. Alastor’s knees drew up, hands tugging at his restraints. 

“It’s too sensitive. Up”

“Why are you still so hard then?” Your hand twisted over his head and shaft. His legs were hitting at your ribs, body trying to escape your hand but with nowhere to go.

“You’re pushing your luck, chérie” 

You liked pushing your luck. Watching him hiss and convulse was bringing out the sadist in you. With a second to consider it, you nodded to yourself and swiped your tongue up the bottom of his cock. Salty, bitter, hot. Focused, your tongue edged along the neck of his glans. 

As he squirmed, he realized you hadn’t been made to squirm yet… nor last time. Motivation found; his smirk finally returned in full.

The sound of the leather ripping as his arms pulled them apart reached your ears too late. You knew he could have gotten free at any time but you hadn’t expected him to actually do it. You knew despite his act; he enjoyed letting you be the one pulling his reins.

A hand in your hair pulled you off his lap, another took hold of your waist. The wind was knocked out of you as he tossed you to the floor between the chair and his table. 

Alastor had had enough. You had your fun, you teased, you took control of the dynamic. He warned you, and now he would reclaim the power. 

“Allow me to return the favor. I have a debt to you, after all.”

You hissed a warning that he ignored, ripping through your dress with ease. Unfair, you thought. You hadn’t been quite as quick when you undressed him. Had you known it was a competition you’d have made a quicker order of his pants earlier.

A clawed hand slid down your pelvic mound, two fingers spreading open your lips on the way down to your entrance. “You’re already dripping. You acted so tough earlier, but you were melting.”

“Can it.”

He hummed, both fingers bending and slipping into you with a slight resistance. Though you both enjoyed a little sadomasochism, he wasn’t trying to hurt you. So preparation was a necessity. Not that you minded, hips rutting into his palm to bring his digits deeper. Your hands came to your chest, feeling yourself while his own hands were occupied. 

You hadn’t minded not finding your own release last time, but the promise of Alastor drawing an orgasm out of you made your pussy clench around his fingers.

“Not enough?” The radio static of his normal voice grew as a direct reflections of his faltering control.

 Your hands came between your leg and pull his hand away, “I want you.” Hooking your legs around his waist you dragged his lap to your core and rubbed your slick smeared folds up and down his growing length. “Enough foreplay” you growled, wild and feral expression darkening your eyes.

Happy to oblige though not eager to show it, he took his time drawing back his hips. Already so hard he didn’t need his hands to enter you, Alastor let his claws grip the flesh of your thighs as he pressed into your heat, moving your tail to the side, tempted to grab hold of it, but he ignored it. 

A brief moment passed over his face when his smile faltered, the pleasure of getting back into you breaking his focused facade. He took a breath and that smile widened again, eyes opening to lock on your face as he started immediately into a steady rhythm. He knew what you needed to cum, something from within told him exactly how to work your body on his cock to make your vision white out. A consistent and determined thrusting, the sounds of his hips and balls smacking into your body getting louder as the sweat and arousal was shared skin to skin.

The noises of your bodies hitting together punctuating the restrained moans you were biting back made his ears twitch. Debauched, a moment you let yourself be bested. Rarely did you surrender but for his dick you lied on back for him. Or on all fours. Or… his head fell forward. Hanging there he could hide his uneven smile behind his curtain of hair. He could see himself disappearing into your body. Effortlessly you were sucking him in and gripping with every withdrawal.

The buildup of your orgasm was stalled, your hand coming to your clit to push yourself over the climax. As soon as your handed started strumming at your little bud, your walls spasmed and squeezed Alastor. 

“Y/N, Are you close?”.

You nodded, eyes clenched shut. Your stomach muscles tightened and threatened to cramp your arching back. 

When was the last time you felt good about this? Wanted? Loved even? Was this it, at last you found someone that could match your unique self?

“Me too.” Alastor groaned it out, body straightening. Onto your shoulders were touching the floor of his station now, back bent with the chase of your orgasm and Alastor lifting your ass so he could fuck up into you. 

It was a fact your knees would bruise his sides as you finally came, legs wrapping around him and pulling him as deep as you could get him. It wasn’t enough, you whined with the rare display of desperation to have more of him. 

As if he felt that draw as well, he let your body back down. His body rested on top of yours, the air slightly pushed out of your lungs. With a weak and broken moan into the side of your head, he pressed your body into the floor as he came buried as deeply as he could physically manage.

“I’ll talk to Mr. vertically challenged” he breathed out, “Are you sure?” you saw spots of colors, regaining as little strength as you could, feeling your body being pulled backwards. Soon enough you were in his lap again, curled up against his chest, “You go out tomorrow, I think I can convince him” he looked down to you, with the softest look he could provide.

“Deal” you kissed his chin, he felt how your tail tangled around his waist, it was soft and warm, “Just don’t get killed” he took your lips in a kiss, “I won’t” you gave him an unamused stare, “I’m serious” he kissed you again, as if he could erase your worries like that.

“Now, let’s get cleaned up, cuddle the king so he doesn’t suspect anything” you made a pout which he found adorable, “I thought we could sleep together” he made you and him appear in his bathroom, where his shadow already made a warm bath for you two.

“I’m going to compensate for the other day, but I feel…weird” he was overstimulated, so you understood and rather enjoyed the bath and his delicate way to spread the soap across your skin, rather than object him.

After a good night kiss, you went back to Lucifer’s room, finding him in the same position you left him in. “Luce, Luci” you slid in between the covers, calling him softly to get him to cuddle, in which as soon as he heard you, regained a bit of senses, enough to fit his head in your chest and his arms around your waist.  

---------------------------------------------

Stay tuned ;3

part 12

[chernabogs]

I can see an entire bouquet matching Malleus 😭 Calla lily, Ivy, Red Salvia, NATSURIUM and White carnation with pecks of Daffodil and Fern

Don't feel obligated to use all of them! Chose whichever you find most suitable! I just could stop with one alone, the more prompts i read the more i had this idea for a story in my head

I think you and I had the same idea cooking LMAOOO I hope I did this well! <3 Thank you for the request!!

Sin Eater

Inc: Malleus, Reader, a sin eater, and one advisor WC: 3.4k Warnings: Heavy discussion of grief and coping with loss Flowers: Calla Lily (something at first sight), Ivy (we’ve always been friends but we were never just friends), Natsurium (I refuse to bury you), Daffodil (a god bows before a mortal), Fern (In a world of magic, the greatest miracle was you... subtly implied) Summary: A quiet conversation in a hall between a prince, a starving idol, and a body.

Their arrival is marked with the sombre chiming of Dragon City’s bells, which is the only reason Malleus knows they’re approaching Black Scale. The window of the bedroom you shared is wide open, letting in both the breeze and the song as he stands so still that one may consider him to be a mere statue on display. He feels equivalent to one; his breath is shallow, his body cold, and his expression far away enough that he hardly registers the carriage approaching. 

“Your highness?” A faint voice speaks by his right side. Malleus’ finger twitches at the sound as his emerald gaze slowly slides from the streets below to the advisor who is now anxiously twisting her sleeve. He can hardly remember her name—advisors come and go so often that they’ve become a blur in his mind—but he’s taken to calling her Scops due to the owlish stare that she always seems to wear around him. “The sin eater is here.”

Malleus stares for a moment before he looks back down to the courtyard. The carriage door is open, and a figure is now standing on the stone, speaking with one of the guards. The discussion is brief, ending with the guard walking to the doors and the figure looking upwards at the palace walls. A golden mask conceals their face, capturing the rays of the sun which battle through Briar Valley’s ever-present clouds, and they wear a simple black funeral suit. 

“I see that.” He replies curtly, his voice ungiving on how he’s really feeling. “They arrived quite quickly, didn’t they?” 

“I suppose they have,” Scops steps a bit closer to the window to look down at the sin eater. “Strange, really. It isn’t like their profession is a competitive market anymore.” 

Sin eaters used to be far more prominent in Briar Valley back when it was still Briar Nation, and old traditions were held to a greater esteem. Unfortunately, the changing of times meant the dismantling of old organizations and beliefs, rendering the sin eaters as nothing more than a token piece in a funeral party. Perhaps once they were esteemed in a religious fashion—but not anymore. Now they will sit for anyone, so long as they get their meal. 

You had always admired the old traditions, though. He remembers your avid interest in his family’s history, and the many nights you’d waste away in the library, reading tome after tome in delight. You had been the spearhead of a new age for old beliefs—revamping Briar Valley’s tourism through the demonstration of habits long dead—and you had made a difference. That’s why there is a sin eater here today. 

Malleus dislikes their presence, however. Them being here means that what he’s going through is not just a simple dream. He exhales through clenched teeth and forces his shoulders to relax as he turns on his heel and nods. 

“Regardless, it’s best not to keep guests waiting.”

_____________________________________________________________

The hallowed hall in which you lay is silent, even with the presence of the sin eater looming over your shrouded form. How they managed to move quickly enough that they arrived before Malleus did is something he decides not to question—nor does he question how they knew of the hall to begin with. Their profession is one that draws the most peculiar of magic users into it. Like a bloodhound, they caught your scent and followed it to the room. He’s surprised the guards who have been standing watch over you for a day now permitted them to enter. 

Malleus enters alone and waves for the room to be sealed. He notes the hesitation in his guard’s body language before they oblige, stepping away to pull the great wooden doors shut with a resounding boom that stirs a pair of birds residing in the rafters. Their wings flutter in distress as Malleus spares them a passing glance before returning his focus on the figure ahead. The sin eater has turned to look back at him, and he sees upon closer inspection that the mask they wear lacks a mouth. They incline their head in greeting before speaking in a surprisingly clear tone considering their facial obstruction. 

“Your grace. Forgive me for the intrusion before your arrival; I merely wished to prepare in advance.” Their voice is soft and low as they touch a hand to the place above their heart. Malleus hardly reacts to their words as he brushes past them to where you lay, body enshrouded in a white sheet with a torc affixed upon your neck. His fingers brush along its form; forged of mystium and gifted to you as a token by him. It was the closest he could get to a marriage declaration in the eyes of the Senate. 

“It’s hardly my place to prevent a sin eater from completing their role.” He replies languidly as his fingers skim off of the torc to rest on your chest. Stiff, still, and cold against his fingers. “I just wish you had not come to begin with.” 

He doesn’t wish to have you buried quite yet, but he knows he’s already pushing the limit of how long he can keep you. He kneels by the platform that holds your form as his fingers brush along the shroud that hides you. If he could, he would drag you off of this macabre display and back into the rooms you shared for so many decades together, to wrap you in his arms and pretend this isn’t happening. 

But that was foul. Utterly, utterly foul. Your body would putrefy and decay while he clung to a false hope of resurrection. 

No, the sin eater is here now. He just doesn’t want you out of sight quite yet. 

“Many do not welcome me, but I have never left without gratitude.” The sin eater replies softly. Like a god before a mortal, Malleus’ ethereal features are painted into a stony expression, his gaze still distant. He hardly feels a part of this world right now as he hums quietly in turn. 

“Perhaps.” He muses as his fingers toy with the shroud before he turns to look at the sin eater. Like his own face, their mask is a stony expression, their eyes concealed from his seeking gaze. If they were to not move and speak then they could easily be dismissed as one of the many statues adorning the hall. “How shall we proceed?” 

“Do you feel ready to proceed?” They posit as they gesture to your form. 

Malleus rises back to his feet but doesn’t remove his hand from your body. The pungent scent of flowers—used to disguise the sweetness of decay—wafts up with the abruptness of his motion. “The opportunity to refuse has long passed. I am aware that there is a feast to be had—that, they regaled me of this back when they were still alive.”

You had been enamoured by the concept of Briar Valley funerary rites throughout your time in life. He remembers thinking it to be grim when you would speak of them, and rather anxiety-inducing when you began to plan for your own. He always knew that your status as a human meant that you would join the stars long before he did—he had simply not wanted to think about it, though. In the end, your efforts to establish your own postmortem care had saved him a great deal of distress these past few days.

Your ability to think far ahead had been one of the many aspects he had loved about you. 

“Indeed, and I am delighted to see one is set for me.” The sin eater drifts off of the steps of the platform towards the far side of the room, where a table lay with an array of foods on it. Wine, dates, meats, and a variety of other luxuries decorate pristine plates and spotless cutlery. He had spared no expenses in the lavishness of your memoriam. “Sometimes I have served people who are still cooking the final meal by the time I arrive. But then again, I would expect a prince to have ample amounts of resources available to get things done.” 

“I give nothing but the finest when it comes to them.” Malleus retorts sharply as he goes to sit in the chair on the other side of the table. Before he can properly settle, the sin eater raises a hand and shakes their head. 

“Turn the chair around if you please. You are not meant to see my face when I eat—that honour is for the deceased, and the deceased alone.” 

Malleus pauses, his hand resting on the back of the chair before he obliges and twists it around to face the wall. He then sits down and crosses his legs patiently. Despite the fact that he knows the sin eater to be unarmed, he still feels a prickle of paranoia creep up his spine. Old habits die hard when one has been hunted for so many years. 

Eventually he hears the sound of the sin eater sitting down in their respective seat, followed by something heavy hitting the table. The sin eater clears their throat, and the sound is far clearer now than before. Their mask has been removed—which means the rite has officially begun. Malleus inhales and readies himself for what he recalls the next few steps to be. 

“Tell me about them. Call them to the table where we feast.” There’s a brief pause then before a fork scrapes against porcelain plates. Malleus’ eyes flutter shut as he gives a low sigh. 

“Mira calirh.” The affectionate term flows from his tongue easily as he touches upon memories long passed. How can he summarize you in a simple conversation? You had been a person of many complexities—of devotion, of will, of love as boundless as the sea. To boil all that you were down into a mere few lines felt sacrilegious in his heart. 

“Tell me of your first.” The sin eater prompts, and so he does. 

“I met them outside of their dorm. I thought the place was abandoned, but suddenly they were there before me, sleep-dazed and curious. I remember thinking how calm they were when facing me directly—only to find out they hadn’t a single clue about who I was.” Malleus’ lips curl into a faint grin as he pictures the moment so clearly. He can see you in your youth, eyes glassy with sleep and hair slightly dishevelled. You had not registered in his mind as someone of importance quite yet. 

Oh, how such a thing would change. 

“Tell me more.” The sin eater urges. He can hear the wine glass lifting and being set back down on the table. Malleus’ hands clasp tight as he feels his fingers begin to grow numb. In his peripheral vision, he thinks he sees movement from the pedestal. He resists the impulse to look its way as he considers his next words. 

“It made me feel… alive. For a moment. They would accompany me, speak with me. It was shortly after my overblot that I began to consider them as a friend—although I suspect we never were just that. It was two summers later that I began to consider them something more.” 

Malleus pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts. He remembers that summer—it had been warmer than usual in the Valley, and you had come to visit for a week. He recalls the smell of sunscreen and the sight of you with your hat on your head as you sat in a field of eternal green. The land was lush and abundant with life, but it had been you that had drawn his gaze the strongest. 

The sin eater pushes a plate away before grabbing another. It drags across the wooden table with a bitter screech. “Is that so?” 

“Quite. They stayed with me for a week, and I wished every night that the next day would never come, only so that I could hold onto them for just a bit longer. I kissed their cheek before they departed through the mirror back to NRC—I wanted to kiss their lips, but I panicked and missed.” He can’t help but laugh at that. His palms had been sweating and his mind had been in a panic when he clumsily pressed his lips to your cheek in a kiss of farewell. “Foolish I was. Fortunately, it didn’t turn them away from me. The next time we met, they made sure my aim was true.” 

“Young love has a habit of sending our hearts aflutter, no?” The sin eater muses as more scraping sounds out. “Tell me when you loved them.”

When? Malleus’ brow furrows as he considers the question. When did he not, really? 

“Every day. Every hour. Every minute. I think once they became mine there was not a moment I did not love them, even when we had our disagreements, or the obligations of my role drew me abroad. I loved them in the day, I loved them in the night. And in the sparse moments between, I loved them even more.” Malleus feels his jaw clench slightly. “We could not be married, and so I made sure they knew my devotion.”

“You could not marry because they were not fae. I remember that being a point of contention in the papers.” 

The sin eater must be a fae themself, then, if they can recall the tabloids from that time so easily while looking as young as they appeared. Malleus bristles at their comment. 

“Yes, that was a point of great contention, and one I had to swallow despite working to change the laws. Even my grandmother agreed that such outdated beliefs had no business in and amongst our courtiers.” 

He had fought viciously against nobility for the opportunity to keep you by his side. Eventually it had ended in a standoff, with the courtiers begrudgingly agreeing to permit you to live in Black Scale, so long as you never officially became his consort. Your body hasn’t even been cold for a day, and he’s already heard rumours from Scops that the Senate is hunting for a suitable replacement. 

The knowledge tastes like bitter fruit on his tongue.

He thinks he sees the flutter of white fabric moving at the pedestal again. His brow furrows as he rationalizes it away as a trick of the odd lighting in the hall. Still, the cold breeze that follows makes him shift in his seat uncomfortably.

“Tell me how you loved them.” The sin eater diverts his thoughts and the conversation once more as something heavy scrapes across the table. It may be the plate of quail he saw—or the pig's head. “What did you do to always let them know?” 

“Everything. Anything they wanted I would give to them. If they had asked me to move the mountains we rest on, I would do so. If they asked me to pluck the sun from the sky and fasten it into a brooch for them, I would make sure it was held by the finest of metals. If they wished for the rains to fall and the earth to turn green, then I would drag the clouds from across the world to where they stood.” Malleus shivers again as he feels an ache in his chest. It’s been there for days now. “Magic bends to my whims, but I bent to theirs.” 

“But you couldn’t give them time.” There’s a licking sound and a low hum of satisfaction from the sin eater. “Time will eat everyone in the end—much like how I feast on their memories now. You could give them every precious gem and flower in the world, but you could not give them a second more than what they were meant to have.” 

“If I could have, then I would.” He snarls back, his head turning slightly to glare at the blurred image of the sin eater. “I would have stolen the seconds from anything and everything and given it to them instead. The gods know they would have benefited from it. They had plans, ideas, to improve this nation and now? Now they’re already beginning to decay.” 

“As things do.” The sin eater tosses a bone onto a plate as Malleus looks back to the wall. He feels something cold brush against him again, and then the scraping of a chair to his right. His shoulders tense at the sound and he wonders if the sin eater has changed places. 

Until they speak. 

“How very kind of you to finally join us.” 

The comment is simple and one that draws confusion in Malleus until it finally clicks in place and his entire body plunges into freezing water. The world spins to a stop as he hears a whispering voice by his ear, its words indiscernible. Malleus’ eyes widen and dilate as any words he had to say stutter to a stop from his lips, drawn shut by a cold touch brushing up his arm—much like how his touch had brushed along yours moments ago. 

“One last bite, then.” The sin eater interjects once more as they push another plate away. “Tell me how you will keep them alive. The body may be rotting, but the soul does still linger. Within this hall, within this palace, within the memories stored in your mind. How will you honour that?” 

The words become clearer now. Your voice is soft as your breath brushes against the skin behind his ear, making him shiver as a small, painful sound escapes him. The scent of you lingers just beneath that of the roses your body was bathed in before being wrapped for your cremation. He can feel the brush of the shroud against him as phantom fingers touch his back. 

He wants to turn to see you as he once knew—but something tells him that doing so will merely send you away faster. 

“Their legacy.” He offers slowly, eyes fluttering shut again as he loses himself in your touch. “Their memory carries on through years upon generations of work. They brought life back to Briar Valley’s beliefs. They reshaped this old, rotting home—reshaped me—into something better. I may have portraits of them, and statues, and items that they loved dear stored in my rooms—but I think the only thing they would wish for me to do is continue the work they had started.” 

A sensation floods him then like that brought on by a lover’s kiss. It curls around his wounded heart and floods itself through his veins, warming his body in a way that it hasn’t been able to for days. Another pained sound leaves him, but it is not drawn out because of any agony. 

Then, as quickly as it arrived, the sensations are all gone. Your scent disappears, your touch disappears, and Malleus Draconia is left once more to sit in a stiff wooden chair in a large, desolate hall, with a body and a sin eater as his company. He wants to grasp for you and hold you in place like he did so dearly with your body—but the voice screams at him again that this is not the way it plays out. 

The sin eater sets the cutlery down before drawing their mask over their face. They push the chair back to stand, and only when they’re on their feet again does Malleus turn to them. He can feel wetness on his cheeks as he stares at their slender, frail form. He had managed to keep himself from crying so far—but now it’s become a battle he can no longer wage.

“What a delectable meal.” The sin eater sighs as they brush down their suit before stepping away from the table. They pause as they face the prince before bending at the waist in a low bow. The black pits that represent their eyes do not stray from his face as they do so. “They rest—as you should, too. I know you have at least another day of the wake to endure, so try to recover as much energy as you can. They would not want you to suffer on their behalf.”

Malleus doesn’t reply as his gaze drifts to your shrouded form on the pedestal. His love, his partner, his calirh. When the sin eater is already halfway to the door, he clears his throat, causing them to pause and look his way. Malleus stares at their masked face with an expression of neutrality once more. 

“... thank you.” He offers softly. The sin eater tilts their head, bows, and steps out of the silent hall.

[huggybearluvr]

Sneaky Secrets

General Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Previous Part || Next Part

It was 4 pm Sunday evening, and you were sat in your apartment getting ready for your date, your best friend was out with Mark, so you had the place to yourself.

You had your speaking blaring as you hopped in the shower, taking an everything shower. You washed your hair, shaved, did a hair mask, and skincare.

You left the bathroom walking to your room to start officially getting ready. You sat at your desk doing your makeup and and curling your hair.

At about five fifteen you went over to your closet to start looking for an outfit you honestly had to no idea where you were even going, so you picked up your phone calling Luke to try and figure out what to wear.

"Hey what's up?" He asked as he answered the call.

"Where are we going, I have no idea what to wear?" You asked.

"Wear that black dress with the lace at the top," He said smirking into the phone.

"Luke." You said laughing.

"What, it looks amazing on you!"

"Okay, okay, I'll see you soon," You smiled hanging up the call.

You looked through your closet pulling out the black dress and a pair of heels.

You put the dress on and went over to your jewelry box pulling out a gold necklace and earrings.

You grabbed your purse and shoes heading out to the living room. You sat on the couch putting your heels on before going over and pulling a coat out of the closet.

You heard a knock on the door, you went over opening it to see Luke holding a bouquet of white tulips.

"Luke there beautiful," you took the flowers walking into the kitchen to put them in a vase.

"I didn't know which ones to get but I remember seeing these on your instagram," He said smiling.

You smiled.

"Alright reservations at 6:30, let's get going," Luke said.

You both headed out to the car. He opened the door before you, before heading over to the drivers side.

He drove to the restaurant playing your playlist that you had made on his phone for the trip to Kansas City.

Once you arrived he got out opening your door and taking your hand.

You walked into the restaurant hand in hand heading over to the hostess.

"Reservation for hughes," Luke said.

"Right this way sir," She responded leading you both into the dining room.

"Here is your table, your server will be over shortly.

"Thank you," You smiled.

You picked up a menu reading it over. You looked up seeing Luke staring at you," What?"

"You look amazing," He said blushing like a little kid.

"Thank you," You smiled.

-

After Luke paid the bill, you left to his car. He paused before starting it.

"Luke?" You questioned.

"I don't wan this night to be over yet."

"It's the first of many, I promise," You smiled taking his hand, "Let's drive around for a while."

"God, your amazing," He said starting the car.

You both drove around the city your hand in his before he took you down a backroad and pulled over next to a lake.

"Why'd we stop here?" you asked looking over at him.

"It just beautiful, I thought you'd like it," He smiled, as he grabbed a blanket from the backseat.

"Come on," He smiled.

You got out of the car taking his hand as you walked over to the edge of the lake.

He laid the blanket out. You both sat on your hand still in his.

"Y/n," He said looking over at you.

you met his eyes, "Yes?"

"Will you be my girlfriend?" He asked smiling like a kid in the candy store.

"Of course I will," You smiled, leaning in to kiss him.

As you pulled away you looked at your phone. It was already nearly 9:30. You didn't care though, you loved this.

He moved closer wrapping his arm around you as you both sat staring at the stars.

He took you home about forty minutes later.

"Thank you for tonight," You smiled leaning over the center console to kiss him one last time.

"Anytime," He smiled as you pulled away.

You got up heading to your apartment smile plastered on your face.

[villain-crown]

needle | @jegulus-microfic | words: 786

critical care, part 2 | (part 1, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9)

a Jegulus nurse!AU

“Prongs!”

Sirius strolled onto the medical-surgical intensive care unit with a coffee in one hand and an exasperated Remus Lupin in the other. James had to hand it to them—ever since his friends started sucking faces and Remus had flatly refused to let Sirius sabotage his 15 minutes early arrival policy, Sirius was never late to work anymore.

“Hey, mate,” James replied over his shoulder, examining the patient assignments that he’d just outlined.

“Are we in charge?” Sirius demanded into his Starbucks when he’d come close enough to read the board.

“Yeah, I'm charge nurse for the medical patients, you can have the surgical ones. Looks like your brother’s floating up here today.”

Sirius hurried to gulp down the sip he’d already taken. “Reggie? Yesss! Put him on my team! I want to boss him around.”

“How is that different from any other day of the week?” Remus asked.

It was on the tip of James’s tongue to ask—why would Marlene warn me not to stare at your brother?—when the two-toned wail of the code blue alarm blared through the hallway, automatically pulling their focus towards the far side of the ICU.

Sirius sucked up the last of his coffee, attempting to simultaneously shrug off his jacket and stagger towards the action. “Fucking hell, okay, OKAY!”

James was already taking long strides towards the other end of his unit, his eyes flicking to the blue light over room twelve’s door and the controlled chaos unfolding within it. Three people were already present: his two Gryffindor nurses, Lily and Mary, along with a very slender man in dark green Slytherin scrubs performing chest compressions.

“We started compressions about fifteen seconds ago,” Mary supplied from her position performing rescue breaths via bag mask at the head of the patient’s bed.

“Do you need a step stool?” James asked without thinking.

Stranger.

Slytherin scrubs.

This must be Regulus!

As the petite nurse looked up to spare him a glare while continuing to stand on his toes to maintain his rhythm, James realized exactly why he’d been warned not to stare.

He’d seen it all in the course of his career: severed fingers, gaping wounds, and infested flesh. When Marlene had warned him to keep his eyes to himself, he’d figured it was because there was something physically off about Sirius’s little brother; a scar or imperfection of some kind.

He was wrong.

Regulus Black wasn’t some deformed hobbit.

He was fucking gorgeous.

Truly, James couldn’t imagine anything he’d like to do more than stare into those stunning silver eyes set in that lovely face. His eyes had barely swept down to register the man’s slender body and neat little waist when fingers clicked sharply in his face.

“Watch your fucking eyes, Potter!” Sirius snapped, having finally caught up, pushing roughly past him to join his brother at the patient’s side. “Hold compressions, Reggie.”

Regulus paused his movements, backing off slightly to come down off his toes as everyone in the room observed the meaningless squiggles on the cardiac monitor fade from the reading. A wavy, trembling line replaced the previously jerky chaos.

“V. Fib,” Regulus concluded, correctly identifying the lethal heart rhythm.

He was much smaller than James, which was exactly what James liked. It would make pinning him up against a wall by the hips as they fucked a lot easier.

“Yeah. Take over compressions, Lily. Reggie, can you give a round of epinephrine? Where’s Dr. McGonagall?”

“In a budget meeting, according to the intern answering her phone,” Regulus answered, drawing up the medication with a needle.

Fuck, even his voice was just incredibly lovely. James imagined how it might sound in a much dirtier context than they were in now.

“Ah. Pour one out for McGonagall,” Sirius instructed Remus, who obediently emptied a syringe of sterile saline into the garbage.

Regulus paused his own movements, watched this action incredulously. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“It’s good luck. What, you guys don’t do that in Slytherin?”

“We don’t need luck in Slytherin.”

James rolled his eyes. “See, this is why people hate you guys. Okay, one milligram of epi is in.”

“Hello, everyone!”

James looked up and scowled upon seeing Barty Crouch Jr., one of the resident physicians on loan to them from Slytherin, swanning into the room like it was a lovely day. He seemed distinctly unconcerned by his late arrival and more interested in sidling over to Regulus and throwing an arm around his shoulder, making James frown.

“Hey Reg! Wow, they’ve really got you slumming it with these surgical idiots, huh?”

“Are you here to help or hit on my baby brother?” Sirius snapped over his shoulder from where he was recording the code events with a dry erase marker on one of the windows.

Crouch frowned. “Where’s McGonagall?”

“Budget meeting,” came from three different directions.

“Oh. Hey, Lupin, pour one out for—“

“We already did that! Now fucking give us orders, you cretin!”

“Oh. Alright, pause compressions, let’s check a pulse…”

[ltash]

Choices have consequences

SimonGhostRileyxfemalereader

Warning: 18+, smut, hot, sensual and erotic romance, bdsm type, dubcon themed, dark ghost.

Morning sunlight bathed the Fuerzas Especiales base in a golden glow as you, Isabella-affectionately nicknamed Bella-emerged from the barracks. New to the Mexican special forces as a Los Vaqueros soldier, you were the epitome of beauty, standing at five feet with big brown doe eyes and a petite but curvy figure that betrayed your Spanish heritage. Even your commander, Alejandro Vargas, occasionally found himself distracted by your presence.

Clutching a cold coffee tumbler, your long brown hair swayed gently behind you as you strode casually across the base in your military clothes and fur slippers. The routine morning briefing had been called by Commander Vargas, and as you made your way outside, you noticed a helicopter descending on the tarmac. Waiting eagerly for its arrival were Commander Alejandro and Major Rodolfo.

As the helicopter landed, you watched with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Two men emerged. The first was a cute guy with a mohawk, exuding an air of confident charm. The second man, however, was a sight to behold-a behemoth with black tactical pants and combat boots, his muscular frame emphasized by a tight black t-shirt. The crowning detail was his skull mask, which lent him an aura of intimidation and menace.

You stood there, frozen in place, as Alejandro and the two newcomers exchanged greetings. The presence of the masked man was particularly captivating, a stark contrast to the morning's tranquil beauty. His imposing figure and the air of mystery surrounding him seemed to hint at the gravity of the mission ahead.

With Alejandro and Rodolfo engaged in discussion with the other two newcomers, the masked man's intense gaze landed upon you. He observed the way the sunlight caressed your figure, emphasizing your natural beauty.

As his eyes roamed over you, his mind noted your military attire and the fur slippers you wore. A hint of intrigue flickered in his gaze at the sight of those slippers.

He continued watching you, the air around him still and focused.

You could sense the weight of his gaze upon you, the masked man's eyes tracing the path of the morning sun as it played across your figure, highlighting the curves of your petite frame. He took in everything about you-the way you held your coffee, your long hair cascading down your back, the fur slippers adding a touch of softness to your military attire. Even from this distance, his eyes never wavered, his expression unreadable behind the mask.

Alejandro started walking with them toward you. You stood still, frozen in place.

"This is my best soldier, Sergeant Isabella," Alejandro introduced. "Isabella, this is Sergeant Soap MacTavish and Lieutenant Ghost."

"Nice to meet you," you said in your Spanish accent.

"You're a bonnie lass," Soap said, shaking your hand with a friendly smile. Ghost, however, didn't budge, his dark gaze fixed on you but making no move to shake your hand. His rudeness struck a nerve.

"Gracias, hermano," you replied to Soap, but your eyes were daggers aimed at Ghost. His cold demeanor and lack of manners irritated you.

Alejandro, seemingly oblivious to the tension, continued walking with them toward his office. You stood there, sipping your coffee, your mind whirling with thoughts about the mysterious and imposing Lieutenant Ghost.

As Alejandro, Soap and Rodolfo entered the office, you stayed behind, sipping your coffee and stealing glances at Ghost. The air between you was charged with tension, the silence stretching out awkwardly.

Ghost's eyes remained fixed on you, his steady gaze locking onto your every move. It was as if he was studying you, taking in every detail. His eyes occasionally flicked down to your fur slippers, as if they held some sort of fascination for him.

"Isabella, come inside the office," Alejandro ordered. You followed, taking a deep breath to steady yourself.

Inside, Alejandro sat at his desk, with Ghost and Soap seated in front of him. You took a seat on the couch, moving with an elegance that didn't go unnoticed. Alejandro's favoritism towards you was apparent, and Soap and Ghost had already picked up on it.

Alejandro began discussing the mission with them, while you listened intently, knowing your role wasn't directly involved in the planning.

"Isabella is our medical officer," Alejandro said, pointing towards you. "She stays with us on missions in case we need medical support."

"Good to know," Soap replied, glancing your way with a friendly smile. "Nice to have someone with your skills on board, Bella."

Ghost's eyes followed you as you moved to take a seat on the couch. There was a sense of elegance and grace in your movements that caught his attention. He watched as you settled into your spot, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before his focus returned to the discussion at hand.

As Alejandro mentioned your role as a medical officer, Ghost's gaze darted back to you, his eyes studying you with renewed interest. The information about your skills piqued his attention, and his expression remained stoic, but there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

"Lieutenant Ghost will conduct a drill today," Alejandro announced, his voice carrying authority. "Isabella, you have to inform all the new recruits and sergeants to join. He is a Special Air Service operator. You all can learn from him."

You nodded, taking mental notes of your new tasks. "Yes, sir."

Alejandro turned to Soap and Ghost. "Now, Bella, please show them their rooms in the building."

"Follow me," you said, rising from the couch with grace. Soap and Ghost stood, ready to follow.

As you led them out of the office, you turned to Ghost. "Lieutenant Ghost is impressive. You'll see."

Ghost gave a curt nod, his expression unreadable behind the mask. Soap, on the other hand, offered a friendly smile. "Looking forward to it."

You walked them through the corridors, pointing out various amenities and briefing rooms along the way. "Your rooms are just down here," you said, opening the door to a hallway lined with neatly arranged quarters.

"You'll be staying here," you said, opening a door for Soap. "And Ghost, yours is just next door."

Soap glanced around the room, nodding appreciatively. "Nice setup."

Ghost remained silent, stepping into his room with a quick, assessing glance.

"If you need anything, just let me know," you said, looking directly at Ghost. His eyes met yours, a silent acknowledgment before he turned away.

Leaving them to settle in, you headed off to inform the recruits and sergeants about the upcoming drill. The base was bustling with activity, and you quickly found the groups, relaying Alejandro's orders.

The base was alive with activity, and the atmosphere was filled with anticipation. The recruits and sergeants, having received your news, were preparing for the upcoming drill.

Ghost stood outside, surveying the line of recruits, his sharp eyes meticulously checking their uniforms. His imposing figure and the skull mask added to the tension in the air. He noticed immediately that one of the sergeants was missing: you.

Rushing out, you stumbled slightly as you tried to wear your boot, still tying the lace. "Sorry, sir. I'm late," you said, breathless. Your hair was neatly placed in a bun, but your hurried entrance hadn't gone unnoticed.

Ghost's eyes narrowed slightly as he watched you join the line, standing in the corner. He didn't say a word, but the intensity of his gaze conveyed his displeasure. You could feel the heat of his scrutiny as he continued the inspection, moving methodically down the line.

"Make sure this doesn't happen again, Sergeant," he finally said, his voice low and commanding. "Punctuality is crucial."

"Yes, sir," you replied, standing straighter, determined not to let this slip-up define you.

As Ghost moved down the line, checking the uniforms with his usual stern efficiency, he finally reached you. It was really hard for you to suppress your smile. The corners of your mouth twitched, and you pursed your lips hard to keep the laughter from erupting.

His eyes, dark and unreadable behind the mask, locked onto yours. "Something amusing, Sergeant?" he asked, his voice cool and measured.

"No, sir," you managed to reply, struggling to maintain your composure.

Ghost's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he continued down the line. You took a deep breath, thankful that he hadn't pressed the issue further. The drill was about to start, and you needed to focus, but the brief moment of levity had eased some of the tension in the air.

You let out a silent sigh of relief, grateful that he hadn't pressed the issue further. The drill about to begin and you needed to focus, but the brief moment of mirth had broken the tension in the air.

The drill continued with Ghost putting the recruits and sergeants through their paces. He was a demanding instructor, pushing them to their limits and beyond, never accepting anything less than perfection. Meanwhile, Soap observed from the sidelines, impressed by Ghost's no-nonsense approach.

As the obstacle course drill began, Ghost placed you in the most challenging positions. He pushed you to your limits, demanding nothing but perfection. Your body protested, muscles burning and lungs gasping for air, but you pressed on.

However, during one section, your exhaustion got the better of you. Your foot caught on a root, sending you tumbling face first into the dirt. Frustration gripped you, the taste of dirt mixed with a hint of embarrassment.

As you stood up, wiping the dirt off your clothes and cursing under your breath, a familiar shadow loomed over you. Lieutenant Ghost had observed your fall and was now standing beside you. His eyes flickered with a hint of amusement and a hint of disappointment.

He waited until you were finished cleaning yourself up before speaking. "Carelessness," he said, his voice low and controlled. "Will get you and your teammates killed."

"I am a medical officer Sir. Not your typical soldier." My Spanish accent coming through my mouth. I tried hard not to curse at him in Spanish.

"Your role may not be as a typical soldier," he continued, his gaze drifting over the obstacle course, "but you still need to be prepared for any situation that may arise. Train harder, focus more, and take care of yourself. Can't have our medic falling flat on her face in the dirt."

"You sound like you never bit the dust. Am I right lieutenant?" You said crossing your arms on your chest.

Ghost's eyes narrowed, a hint of irritation showing in his expression. Your comment had clearly hit a nerve. He took a step closer to you, towering over you.

"I've fallen before," he admitted, his voice low, "but I got up. That's the difference between me and you."

"That's what I am doing right now. Understood?" You spat.

Ghost's gaze darkened, his irritation growing. He stepped even closer, the tension between you and him becoming palpable.

"Do not test my patience, Sergeant," he warned, his voice like a sharpened blade. "I expect nothing less than your best. Push yourself, push your limits, and do not settle for anything less than perfection."

"Like Hell are you threatening me Lieutenant?" You stepped closer tilting your chin up to look into his eyes.

Ghost's eyes flared with a mix of anger and challenge. Your defiant stance, your chin defiantly lifted towards him, only added fuel to the fire.

He took another step forward, closing the remaining distance between you. For a moment, he was silent, his gaze boring into yours. The tension was so thick you could almost feel it.

"You're crossing a line," he finally said, his voice a low growl.

"Don't forget you are standing at Alejandro's base LT. You can't threaten his soldier, his medical officer." Your gaze bore into his eyes.

Your words hit their mark, striking a nerve that ran deep within Ghost. His jaw tensed, and his hands clenched into fists by his sides.

"I will speak to you as I see fit," he replied, his voice carefully composed. "I don't care whose base it is, and I don't care what rank you hold. In this moment, you are not just Alejandro's soldier or medic. You are a soldier of Task Force 141, and you will respect my authority."

"I am not a part of Taskforce and I will never want to be until you are a part of it." You said with hatred in your tone.

Ghost's eyes hardened at your words, the hatred in your tone not missing his notice.

"Watch your tone, Sergeant," he warned, taking a step closer. "You might be a medical officer and a friend to Alejandro, but you don't know a damn thing about what I have done or what I am capable of."

"Saca la cabeza de tu trasero y luego habla. Puta madre. " You cursed at him in Spanish.

Ghost's eyes widened slightly at the string of curses you hurled at him in Spanish. For a moment, he was momentarily taken aback.

"Careful, now," he said, his tone a mix of irritation and warning. "I don't need to speak Spanish to know when I'm being insulted. Watch your tongue."

"I am not afraid of you. Fucking Lieutenant." You can't do shit. Its my base and I am standing in the middle of the drill.

Your boldness, your audacity, was beginning to wear thin on his already short temper.

"Keep talking like that, and you'll find out what I can do," he warned, his voice a low growl. "Just because you stand on Alejandro's base doesn't make you untouchable. I've taken down larger enemies than you, so don't think you're special."

You scoffed. "First of all LT. I am not your enemy and secondly I don't take orders from you. Thirdly! I am going inside to tell Alejandro what you exactly said to me. You threatened a woman. You are not getting away with this." You put your hands in mock surrender.

Ghost watched as you threw your hands up in mock surrender, his expression hidden behind his ever-present skull mask.

"Fine," he said, his voice tight with restrained anger. "Go to Alejandro. Tell him what you think you heard. But I doubt he'll care about the words of a disrespectful medic who can't even handle a simple drill without falling on her ass."

As you turned to leave, Ghost's words hung in the air, a challenge and a warning all wrapped into one. He watched as you walked away, his eyes narrowed in contemplation.

As you found yourself alone in the base, your thoughts were consumed by the recent confrontation with Ghost. The realization of your own impulsivity dawned upon you, and you cursed under your breath.

The thought of him staying on the base for a few more days was like a time bomb ticking away. You knew you had to tread carefully around the Lieutenant now. Your own recklessness had put you in a precarious position.

The fear you felt in the pit of your stomach grew, imagining what Ghost might do if he found an opportunity to get his hands on you.

As the hours passed and night fell, you couldn't help but replay the confrontation with Ghost in your mind. Your words, his reaction, the tension in the air...it all weighed heavily on you. You knew you had crossed a line, and now you were paying the price.

The base was quiet now, most people either asleep or on standby, but you couldn't find the calm you so desperately needed. Your mind was racing, flooded with thoughts of Ghost and the consequences of your actions.

As you tossed and turned in your bed, attempting to find a comfortable position, your thoughts drifted back to Ghost.

The image of his broad shoulder, his athletic body , his powerful stature, his intense gaze and his handsome features, the mask that hid his true identity. Everything about him drew you in, making you curse your body's response to his presence.

The urge to touch yourself thinking about him was intense. You couldn't help it. You stood up. The showers were empty at this time. You couldn't risk anybody listening to your ordeal so you made your way to the showers. The building was eerily quite just you in your nightgown and your slippers walking in the corridors towards the showers.

The quiet corridors provided no comfort as you padded silently through the base. You could hear your own footsteps, the soft whisper of your slippered feet against the cold floor, your heart thumping loudly in your chest with every step.

The showers, however, were blissfully empty. You pushed open the door and stepped in, the sound of water dripping echoing in the solitude.

You stepped inside slowly pulling down the straps of your gown. It pooled down in your feet revealing your black laced lingerie inside.

The sound of water raining down on you faded into the background as your thoughts consumed you. Ghost's intense gaze, his powerful presence, the way he had loomed over you earlier, it all played in your mind like a movie.

Your hand slowly dipped beneath your lace panties, a soft gasp leaving your lips.

Ghost walked the quiet corridors, his feet silent in the soft slippers. The base was quiet at this time of night, most people asleep or on standby.

He had changed out of his gear and into a casual outfit, the hoodie and jeans providing a stark contrast to his usual uniform. The hood was pulled up, hiding his face in shadow, and the skull print balaclava still covered the lower half of his face. He walked with purpose, thoughts racing through his mind.

You finished showering and dried yourself with towel. Slipping into your nightgown again you slowly made your way out in the corridor.

He quickly stepped back, retreating into the shadows as you emerged from the corridor. His hands trembled from the effort to stay away. The image of you, wet from the shower, wearing the nightgown and your hair clinging to your face, was burned into his mind.

Ghost stood in the shadows as you strolled by, blissfully unaware of his presence. He watched you walk past, his eyes tracing every contour of your body under the nightgown.

You reached your room to open the door just when your eyes met his.

Time seemed to freeze for a brief moment as your gazes locked, neither of you saying a word. The tension between you was thick, the memory of your heated argument from earlier still fresh in both your minds.

His stood there, looming in the dark doorway, the light from the corridor casting him in shadows. He watched as your eyes widened and your breath hitched, the surprise plain on your face.

His hands were stuffed in his hoodie pockets, his face covered by the balaclavas, but the intensity of his gaze was undeniable.

His gaze flicked down to your hands as you fumbled with the keys. He watched as they fell, a small gasp of surprise leaving you. He took a step forward, the sound of his slippers soft on the linoleum.

He loomed over you, towering over your much smaller frame, the shadows casting a harsh contrast on the skull balaclava.

He watched as you bent to pick up the key, his eyes roaming over your form in the nightgown, the way it moulded to your body in all the right ways. He felt a tug of desire, the need to touch you, to hold you stronger than ever.

He watched as you struggled to fit the key in the door, a pang of something sharp in his chest as he watched the frustration on your face.

Your eyes never leaving him while you tried to put the right key in the lock. Your breathing ragged. "Oh God please. Please." You begged.

He took another step forward, closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. His heart was pounding in his chest, the need to take you, to claim you, nearly overwhelming him.

"Please what?" he asked, his voice rough with desire.

With a final turn of the key, your door flung open behind you, nearly slamming against the wall.

Ghost's eyes flicked between your face and the open doorway. His body was tensed, the desire to follow you into the room and take what he wanted was nearly too much to withstand.

You took a step back into your room, your eyes never leaving him.

His hand was placed on your chest, he pushed you back, guiding you further into the room.

The door closed and locked behind him with a soft click, shutting out the rest of the world. You were now alone with him in the dimly lit room, his presence heavy and intense.

"I-I am sorry. I am sorry for what I said earlier today." Your voice trembled.

Ghost raised an eyebrow, his voice a deep rumble. "You're sorry for what you said?"

He took a step closer, his body practically looming over you. His eyes were intense, the skull balaclavas adding to the mysterious aura surrounding him.

"I am sorry, please. I didn't mean when I insulted you on the drill." I gasped.

His eyes darkened, his body tensing again. "You think 'sorry' is going to make it all better? That an apology is enough to erase what you said?"

He took another step closer, his hand still on your chest, his touch both gentle and possessive.

"It- it won't happen again. I promise Lieutenant." My voice barely above a whisper.

Ghost chuckled dryly, his hand on your chest slowly moving upwards, his fingertip tracing along your collarbone.

"You promise, hm? And you think your word holds any weight, after what you said?"

He took another step forward, his body now pressing against yours, his heat and presence overwhelming.

"No. Please. You don't have to do this." You shook your head trying to plead.

Ghost's eyes flashed, his grip on your chest tightening. "Oh, I think I do. I think you need to learn a lesson in respect and discipline."

He leaned down, his mouth close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "And I know just the way to teach it to you."

His hand slid up your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair, tilting your head back to expose your throat to him.

He brought his mouth closer, his balaclavas brushing against your skin, his voice a deep rumble. "This is what happens when you cross a line. You face the consequences. And I promise you, you're about to learn the consequences in a very... physical way."

Him grabbing your hair was enough. A gasp escaped your lips as you ended there. Your body went limp in his arms.

"Finally getting weak?" he taunted, his voice a low rumble. He pulled you closer, trapping you against him, his body pressed against yours.

"You don't have to do this. Ohh my god!" You whined.

He chuckled again, his fingers tightening in your hair. "Oh, I think I do. You disrespected me, insulted me in front of the team. That kind of insolence has consequences."

His mouth grazed your throat, his touch both rough and gentle, sending shivers down your spine.

Your lips parted as you gasped for breaths. You tried pushing him away. "Please. Please don't. I beg you. I am sorry. It was a mistake."

His eyes darkened, his body tensing at your plea. "You're sorry now, huh? But you didn't seem sorry when you insulted me in front of the team, in front of Price. You acted like a brat, and you need to be disciplined."

He pushed you back against the wall, his body pinning yours there, his hand still in your hair.

Your breath was in your throat, your life leaving your body.

The power, the control he had over you in that moment, sent a wave of heat through his body.

"You're scared, aren't you?" he murmured, his mouth against your ear. "Good. You should be. You should be scared of what I'm going to do to you. Because you crossed a line, and now you're going to pay the price."

"Don't you dare get your hands on me." I tried to push him.

"See now, if you had just behaved, none of this would've happened. But you just had to push your luck, didn't you? You had to go and cross that line."

He pulled your head back even further, his grip on your chin and your hair rough and firm. The pain was a constant reminder, a reminder of who was in control in that moment.

"Fuck you." You spat on his face.

Ghost's eyes went dark, his grip on your chin and hair tightening even further.

"Oh, you've got a real mouth on you, don't you?" he growled. "You're really asking for it now."

He wiped the spit from his face, his eyes flashing with anger, before he slammed you against the wall again.

He felt your nails clawing at his arms, leaving behind red streaks of blood. The pain only fueled his anger further, his body tensing against yours.

"You little wildcat," he hissed, his voice strained. "You think a few scratches are going to stop me? You've got a lot to learn, love."

He grabbed your small neck lifted you up until you were on your tiptoes, his hand firm and powerful. You struggled for breath, your coughing echoing in the small room.

He held you there for a moment, his eyes dark and intense as he watched you gasping for air. "You still going to fight me, love?" he taunted, his voice a deep rumble.

You tried stomping your feet. Whimpering and moaning to catch your breath, coughing and hitting his chest with your fists. Tears welled up your eyes on the lack of oxygen.

Your struggles and whimpering only fueled his anger, his hand around your neck tightening further.

"You're just making it worse for yourself, love," he warned, his voice a low growl. "Keep fighting me, and I'll have to get really rough."

A whimper escaped you as you gasped, nearly choking for breath. Your eyes rolled back from the lack of oxygen. Your struggle stopped. You went limp.

He held you there, your body hanging limply from his grip. He relaxed his hold on your neck slightly, allowing you to gasp in a shaky breath.

"That's better," he murmured, his voice gruff. "Now you're finally behaving."

He chuckled darkly, your head lolling back and forth in a daze. "Looks like I've broken you, love. That fire of yours is all but gone."

He pressed you against the wall, his body still pinning yours, his breath hot against your skin. "Maybe now you'll think twice before mouthing off to me again."

"What do you want?" You whined with gritted teeth.

His eyes raked over your body, taking in the sight of you pinned against the wall, weak and fragile.

"What do I want?" he repeated, his voice a low rumble. "Well, for starters, I want you to learn your place. I want you to understand that I'm the one in charge here, and that I won't tolerate any more of your sassy remarks."

"Please. Let me go. I understood." You pleaded.

"Oh, you 'understood', huh? Do you think a simple 'please' is going to get you out of this?"

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping an octave. "You crossed a line, and now you have to face the consequences."

You sobbed. "Please! I promise I won't do it again."

He tightened his grip on you, his expression going cold again.

"Oh, you promise, do you? You promise you won't do it again? And what makes you think I believe a word that comes out of your mouth after you insulted me in front of the team?"

Your tiny body jolted with every sob. The straps of your gown fell with the movement, revealing your milky skin and soft mounds of your breasts.

His eyes dropped to your exposed skin, his gaze locking on the straps that had fallen down, the milky skin and the curve of your mounds. His breath hitched in his throat, heat flooding his body.

He swallowed hard, his eyes darkened, his grip on you tightening further. "Still playing the innocent card, huh?" he muttered, his voice gruff.

You remained silent. You leaned against the wall. Tears fell from your eyes as you sobbed.

He stepped closer, his body pressing against yours, his grip on you unrelenting.

"Cry all you want," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "It won't change the fact that you crossed a line, and now you have to pay the price."

"What you wanna do to me?" You asked him, voice choking with tears.

He grabbed your neck gently and pushed you to the bed. You landed on the mattress with a gasp. The straps of your gown came down more. He unbuckled his belt and with a swift motion he slid his belt out. Straddling on top of you he took your wrists and tied the belt around your wrists.

You gulped. Your fragile hands now tied.

"What are you doing?" You whined.

Ghost smirked as he tied your delicate wrists together with the belt. Your whimpers only served to fuel the fire within him.

"What do you think I'm doing?" he asked, his voice low and rough. "I'm teaching you a lesson. Remember when I said you had to pay the price for crossing the line? This is it, love. This is your punishment."

He took off his hoodie, discarding it on the floor. His mascular physique exposed. He brought your hand and let you trace his abs. A hiss escaped your lips. "God! What are you doing to me?"

Your fingers trembled as he guided them over his abs, his muscles hard and defined. A gasp slipped from your lips, your eyes roving over his exposed torso.

"What's the matter, love? Never touched a man like this before?" he teased, his voice dripping with arrogance.

His hands glided over your thighs, his touch rough against your soft skin. Your back arched at his touch, a shudder running through your body.

He grabbed the hem of your panties, sliding them down your legs with a swift motion, his eyes darkening as your bare skin was exposed to him. A hiss escaped you, your body reacting to his touch.

"Mmmm, that's a good girl," he murmured, his voice dripping with desire. "No more smart mouth now, is there?"

He tugged at your gown, pulling it lower, exposing your body completely. His eyes roved over you, taking in every inch of your nakedness.

You bit your lip, your head falling back as a shudder ran through you. He smiled, a wolfish grin spreading across his face.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "So beautiful, so vulnerable. This is what you get for crossing the line, love."

He unzipped his pants, his movements rough and eager. Your gown slid up your thighs as he pulled you closer, his hands on your waist possessive.

He bent down, his lips crashing against yours in a bruising kiss, he positined himself at your entrance.

Bending your legs a little holding your arms firmly pinned against the bed he entered you slowly.

Your hands twisted in the sheets above your head, your fingers clenching the fabric as a throaty moan escaped you.

Ghost let out a low growl, his body tensing as he entered you slowly. The sound of your moan drove him wild.

"Ghost," you breathed out, his name a gasp on your lips.

He chuckled, the sound ragged and deep. "That's right, love. Say my name," he growled, his hips rocking against yours.

Awww! Ghost! Your eyes rolled back.

"That's it, love," he groaned, his breath hot against your skin. "Say my name, let me hear how much you want me."

His hips rocked against yours, each movement sending waves of pleasure through your body.

Your body convulsed with pleasure as he hit just the right spot, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

He leaned in closer, his body pressing against yours, his voice a low growl. "You like that, huh? You like it when I hit the spot just right?"

"Yes, yes, yes." your words came out in a breathless moan, your body arching against his.

He chuckled at your response, his pace picking up, each thrust sending a new wave of pleasure through you. "That's it, love," he rasped, his voice hoarse. "Let me hear how much you want me."

"Oh god," you breathed out, your voice sultry and filled with need. "You feel so good, lieutenant."

Ghost's eyes darkened at the sound of your words, his movements growing more urgent, more desperate. "Say it again," he demanded, his voice rough. "Say my name, say how good I make you feel."

"You make me feel so good lieutenant." You breathed out.

He pressed you down against the bed, his body covering yours, his breath hot against your skin. "Say it again," he demanded. "Again and again, say my name, say it until you can't speak anymore."

"Oh my God." Your voice was a breathless, high-pitched cry, the words escaping you in a desperate gasp. "Ahhh!!! F-ck!"

He chuckled, his body rocking against yours, driving you closer and closer to the brink. "That's right, love," he panted, his breath hot against your skin. "Let me hear you cry out my name."

He leaned down, his teeth nipping at your lip as he swallowed your moans, your body arching beneath him. You could feel your climax building, growing stronger with each move he made.

"Babe, I'm gonna come," you whined, your body trembling under him.

He chuckled, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate. "Not yet, love," he teased, his breath hot against your skin. "You're not coming until I say so."

His lips moved to your neck, teeth nipping at the delicate skin as he picked up the pace, his body moving against yours with a fervor. Each inch of him pressed against you, your breath catching in your throat.

Your toes clenched, your body arching as you reached the peak, guttural moans and cries echoing through the room. Sensation overwhelmed you, your mind going blank as Ghost continued driving you higher and higher.

Your body went loose and limp in his arms, your climax leaving you completely spent and satisfied. He held you tightly against him, his breathing ragged and heavy.

A few moments passed in silence, the only sound in the room the mingling of your ragged breaths. Ghost held you, his hands gently tracing patterns on your bare skin.

Finally, he spoke, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "You okay, love?" he asked, his tone laced with a hint of concern. "I didn't overdo it, did I?"

You nodded weakly, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks of pleasure.

He started moving again, his movements slow and gentle as he began to build up the pace. He pressed his body against yours, his hands roaming over your body as if he was trying to memorise every inch of you.

He took you again, his movements slow and gentle, as if he was trying to prolong the moment. You were spent, your body still riding the waves of the previous climax, but you submitted to him completely, letting him take control of your body once more.

He was close now, his pace quickening as he chased his own release. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his movements were becoming more urgent, more desperate.

He held you so tight against him as he reached he released himself into you. You felt the wetness of his warm and fuzzy cum inside you.

You could hear his raggedcbreaths in your ear as he came undone.

"Is it over now? My punishment?." Your trembling voice echoed.

He chuckled against your ear, his arms still holding you tightly. "Yeah, love," he murmured, his voice gruff. "Your punishment's done for now. But remember, you cross the line again, and you'll pay the price all over again."

"With pleasure." You whispered looking at him. "Till we meet again next time."

He chuckled, his hand reaching out to grab your chin. "Oh, love," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "You can count on it. You'll be seeing me again soon enough."

"And I promise. The next time you come. I will be a good girl Lieutenant." You said against his lips.

He chuckled, his lips just millimeters away from yours. "Oh, I'll make sure of it," he promised, his voice a low rumble. "You will be a good girl for me, love. Because you know the consequences if you're not."

"Choices have Consequences." You whispered.

He echoed your words, his breath hot against your lips. "That's right, love," he replied, his voice a low growl. "And you can be sure that I'll be enforcing those consequences if you step out of line."

The night was filled with passionate, heated kisses as the two of you explored each other's bodies. The tension from earlier in the day melted away, replaced by a burning need and desire for one another. They touched and caressed each other, their bodies intertwined in a dance of pleasure and ecstasy.