#the man is a MUNCH and a MENACE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

babeyun · 6 months ago

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on the rebound ☆ p.sh [m]

synopsis: sunghoon doesn't mind babysitting for the neighborhood mothers - but he certainly doesn't mind when a certain eldest daughter is around to be taken care of, too. genre: acquaintances to ???. older!reader moment (because why not, but also it doesn't really come up.) angst, fluff, smut. this porn has plot, damnit! pairing: babysitter!park sunghoon x fem!older!reader ; mentions of heeseung x reader. word count: 6k rating: 18+. minors do not interact. warnings: swearing, alcohol (that they don't even drink LOL) mentions of toxic relationships, rebounds, reader is only older by a year. smut warnings: oral (f. rec),MUNCH!HOON!! PUSSY EATING ENTHUSIAST HOON!!! nipple play, subtle body worship (f. rec), unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy!), sub!hoon x sub!reader (just trust me), creampie, subtle breeding kink, wayyy too much whining and whimpering, pet names (pretty girl, baby, etc.) listen to: lie to girls - sabrina carpenter ; number one girl - rosé ; wait - dino ; btbt - b.i, soulja boy, devita ; die for you - the weeknd. author's note: this is for all my eldest daughters out there (not me but y'all stay safe!) i whipped this up while i was procrastinating studying for finals...so apologies if it's shitty (because it is shitty.) also, i dog on heeseung SOOO bad but i promise i love him i just needed someone. this being said, happiest birthday hoonie, i love u!

You and Sunghoon weren't strangers, you wouldn't go that far.

However, there was a good reason that you weren't friends – you were never home when he was at your parents' house. You'd moved out with your boyfriend a month or so into him babysitting your menace of a sister. She was well-behaved for him, but had been an absolute tornado of a child when your mother would ask you to babysit. You were actually the one who found Sunghoon through an ad on social media, and he'd been yet another thing to add to your parents' monthly budget.

Then again, no one told them to have another kid so late in their lives. Or yours, for that matter. You were eighteen when Mina was born, and it'd been a pretty rocky five years since then. You went off to college and didn't really get to see her grow up, and she soon learned you were someone she couldn't depend on emotionally because you were rarely able to stick around outside of holidays. It pained you, but you knew you'd eventually get the time to bond with her.

And that time came very quickly after meeting Sunghoon – because your boyfriend dumped you after six months, insisting he was too busy with school to maintain a relationship. Heeseung was a graduate student, and he tutored on the side for extra cash. Your parents funded your lifestyle, so you'd never worried about anything – until Heeseung sat you down and said that the relationship was stressing him out.

Needless to say, a week after the breakup – you moved back in with your parents and left him to figure out the rent himself. It was a calculated move, but your parents agreed that you didn't need that kind of energy in your life. It didn't stop you from remembering all the other times Heeseung dogged you – from taking continuous 'breaks' from your relationship in the three years you were together, to falling prey to temptation (read: another woman grinding on him at a bar while you were two feet away.)

And you talked about him to every person you possibly could – including now, your little sister's babysitter as he washed dishes in your parents' kitchen. The conversation hadn't started out this way, he'd actually been telling you how much Mina talked about you while you were gone.

"Anyway, that kid loves you, man." He nodded as he slid a plate onto the drying rack, and you laughed softly. "Mina was born when I was a teenager. She just thinks I'm cool now, she'll go through the phase of hating me when she's older." You shrug.

"I wouldn't be so sure. She talks about you a lot, something about you playing a viobib?" His brow is arched, and you snort. "Violin. I played her the violin one time so she'd leave me alone. I'm surprised she talks to you so much, she has a hard time warming up to anyone. Even my boyfriend can't get her to talk to him."

His eyes narrowed slightly, "You have a boyfriend? Since when?" You shrug again. "Since before I met you. I guess I should say ex, though. Boyfriend is the title he prefers, but not the one he deserves. At least, not right now." You say pointedly, and his brows furrowed as he leans on the counter, arms crossed.

"Elaborate." "You're babysitting my kid sister, not giving me counseling."

"Consider it a perk for eldest daughters who act like they deserve shitty men." He says, a bite to his tone as you scrunch your nose. You sigh, nibbling your lip before rolling your eyes. "We're on-and-off. Sometimes I call it off, sometimes he does. He's in grad school and he tutors, and he said everything was stressing him out. He dumped me a bit ago, and I moved back in here. I'm surprised I haven't seen you around more."

"Right, so what about that arrangement is making you believe that you deserve this sort of behavior?"

You peek up at him, his brows still furrowed as he awaits your answer. Your stomach tightens a bit as you blink. "I guess…I don't know, actually." "Okay, then ditch that loser." He shrugs, and you scoff. "He's not a loser. He's smart and sweet and we're just going through a rough patch." "If you have to justify his presence in your life or his treatment of you to your friends or anyone you talk about him to, then he's a loser. He sucks and he doesn't deserve to have access to you in any way." Sunghoon clasps his hands in front of himself, and you frown.

"He's nice enough." "Yeah, so is any other guy, babe. You're not gonna give just any dude a chance because he's 'nice enough,' are you?" He peers at you through his shaggy hair, and you feel your cheeks heat slightly in embarrassment. "The fact that you allow that behavior, seemingly quite often, will only make him make you his doormat. He'll do it over and over until he's sick of you, then he gets to dump you and make it seem like it was a mutual thing. You won't win in a situation like that." "It's not about winning." You mutter, grabbing a peach out of the fruit bowl in front of you. He leans back on the island, arms crossed in front of him.

"Isn't it, though? There is always a prize and a player in a relationship. You," He taps the tip of your nose with his finger gently. "Are the prize, and he's the player. If he's not playing to win you, then he's playing to lose and wasting your time."

You stare into his eyes, not missing the way his brows jump as he leans slightly closer.

"Stop wasting your time on a shitty dude when you can do so much better. Especially if you're really as cool as Mina says. Kids don't lie about people they admire." His tone is slightly teasing, and you roll your eyes. "Mina has thrown eggs at me, I wouldn't be so sure she admires me." "I don't know, she said you're really nice to everyone. That you're funny, you can sing…dance…" Sunghoon lists a few things your sister said while you were asleep, and you feel your ears grow hot. "She also said you're the one who taught her how to do backflips, and that she wants to be like you when she grows up. I'd suggest getting that guy out of your life sooner rather than later so you can set a good example." "Did she mention him?" Your eyes snap up, and Sunghoon shrugs. "Once or twice. She said he makes you cry more often than not." You snort, shaking your head as you look down. "What does she know? She's five."

"Kids see things from an unbiased perspective, they're still learning how to be functioning humans. She associates him with you being upset, so I wouldn't be surprised if you told me that you're 'on a break' right now. I've been listening to you for five minutes and I already don't like this guy. If he cared, he'd be here. He doesn't care." "You're only saying that because it's what I need to hear." You roll your eyes as you avoid the rest of his spiel, and Sunghoon shakes his head, stealing a grape from the ones he washed for you earlier. "I'm saying that because it's the truth, and when I love, I make sure the person I love knows." "You don't even know him." You scowl, and he smirks. "Don't have to, babe. It's all over your face. You look defeated as hell when you talk about him." "Not your babe, Sunghoon." You shake your head, and he shrugs. "Could be, if you ditched that guy. I don't even know your favorite color but I can almost guarantee I'd be a better boyfriend than him."

"My favorite color is green." You mutter, and he leans closer to your face. "Anything else you wanna tell me about this guy?" "Why? You'll just be mean about it." You mumble, licking your lips when you feel his fingers tilt your chin up. He coos, "You're cute when you're defensive over a scumbag." "Stop that." You shove his hand away, and he smiles. "You need a rebound or something. All you've been able to talk about since you moved back is this guy. He sucks, babe." "Ugh, I know! Alright, I know he sucks, you don't have to rub it in." You frown, biting into the peach in your hand. "D'you know he'd never tell me I was pretty? I mean, I know I am, he didn't have to. But it would've been nice to hear every once in a damn while." You chew angrily, before hearing him laugh softly. "You have enough confidence for a man to feel like he doesn't need to tell you that. You carry yourself so well, it's honestly very sexy." You look up at him, meeting his eyes. They're calm and sincere, like he didn't just call you sexy in the middle of your kitchen while you're wearing a random t-shirt and sweatpants. "Me?" "Yeah, you. It's just us in here, Y/N." He snorts, "You seriously need to get over this guy. I don't like hearing you talk about this like you deserved it." "What do you know? You hardly know me." You know your voice sounds bitter, but it only spurs him on. "Don't need to know you super well to know you just need to feel appreciated." "Right, appreciated." You roll your eyes, tossing the half eaten peach in the trash. "Like I'm gonna find that in a rebound." "You can." He nods, making you snort. "Like who? You?" "Sure." He shrugs, and you nearly choke on your own spit. "What? Sunghoon, be serious." "I am being serious. If that's what it takes, I'm all for it." He shrugs again, like this is the most nonchalant thing ever, like he's not offering to fuck the bitterness out of you so you'll act normal again. You gawk at him, "Sunghoon, I cannot just use you like that. We hardly know each other, are you insane?" "Is it insane if I say I want you to?" He leans forward on the counter, a soft blush on his cheeks. You gape at him, his finger coming to close your mouth. "Does it matter how well we know each other? I'm sure it'll be a one time thing, and since we don't see each other often, I don't see the harm." "You want me to use you to get over my ex-boyfriend? You want to be my rebound?" You're shocked at his suggestion, he can tell as he shrugs. "You can use me anytime you want. Think about it." He winks, pushing off the island.

You feel your cheeks grow hot as he leaves the kitchen, letting you sit with your thoughts.

Sunghoon lived a mile away, in an apartment complex you helped him pick out once your parents hired him. Your mother had insisted he live in the house, but your father refuted by saying Sunghoon was a grown man, he needed his own space. You'd taken him to fill out the paperwork, and it was one of the last interactions you'd had with Sunghoon before moving out.

You sigh shakily, running your hands through your hair.

It wasn't the worst idea. You knew that Sunghoon wouldn't have offered it if he wasn't attracted to you, at least. You knew what it was like to feel desired, but something about the way Sunghoon looked at you made you feel giddy.

Maybe it was the promise of feeling something new, or the idea that you shouldn't do it – because he works for your parents. Getting involved with you could cost him his job, if anyone found out.

You feel your phone buzz in your pocket, and you sigh as you reach to grab it.

Message From: Park Sunghoon (Babysitter) [8:32pm] you know where i live if you're down. [8:32pm] just let me know, gorgeous.

Fuck.

Bad idea, bad idea, bad fucking idea.

It hadn't even been a day since you and Sunghoon had the conversation in your parents' kitchen. Or rather, the awkward moment in your parents' kitchen.

It'd been three hours. It was nearing midnight as you stood in front of the elevator, the cold December air biting at your exposed legs. You'd gone to a late dinner with your friend Aeri, and you'd be lying to yourself if you didn't admit that her encouragement is what got you into this predicament.

The elevator dings, revealing a young girl and her dog attempting to step out. You give her a soft smile, earning a nod and a have a good night as you step in. You press the button to the third floor, bouncing on your heels as the elevator starts moving. This could be the worst fuck of your life and you won't even know until after, or even during. What if it's the best fuck of your life and then you're just forced to be around him as his employer rather than a potential fuck buddy or even worse, a girlfriend? "Get it together, Y/N." You mutter to yourself, hearing the elevator ding as you reach the third floor. You step out, turning to the right and walking past three doors, before standing in front of his apartment. His doormat is that of a frat boy's – Please Don't Do Coke In Our Bathroom.

You snort, before knocking on the door softly. You hear rustling, and the lowering of a TV before the pitter-patter of dog feet. You hear him sigh as he unlocks the door, his face appearing before you as he opens it. He looks surprised.

"Y/N, what a pleasure." He speaks smoothly, and you roll your eyes. "It's cold, invite me in." You cross your arms across your chest, making him smile as he steps to the side. You walk in, shivering as you carefully step out of your heels. You squat to pet his dog, but she disappears behind his legs. You pout at him, and he just snorts. "She's shy."

"It's fucking freezing outside, Hoon." Your teeth chatter as he closes the door, taking your scarf as you hand it to him. "Well, you're barely dressed. I assume it would be cold when you're half naked." "Did you want me to wear layers and make this take ten times as long? Be serious." You huff, sliding your coat off. Granted, you'd put this dress on with the idea of going to a bar after dinner and posting thirst traps on your story for Heeseung to see and yearn for…

Which is shitty of you to appear in Sunghoon's apartment after thinking that way.

"I don't think you wore this for me, Y/N. You were at dinner with Aeri." He rolls his eyes, and you forget he also has your Instagram. "Man, just take the win. Do you wanna fuck me or not?"

He shrugs, "Do you want me to?" "You wouldn't have offered and I wouldn't have shown up if the answer to either of those questions was no." You say pointedly, and he clicks his tongue. "I guess you're right." "I usually am." You roll your eyes, making him laugh. "Here, have a seat." "What, are you gonna wine and dine me?" You tease, and he smirks, disappearing into his kitchen. "Could say that." You take a seat on his couch, looking around the apartment. He's decorated in a very Sunghoon way – lots of black decorations and shelving on the exposed brick, an array of books on a shelf to the left of his desk and a record player. You look at his coffee table, the fashion magazines and editorials stacked high.

"You always snoop through people's things?" His voice rings behind you as he holds two glasses and a bottle of wine you're sure you've seen only in your father's reserve. You huff, "Well you leave me here to entertain myself, I'm bound to look around." "Valid. Come on." He tilts his head for you to follow him, your cheeks aflame as you do just that. He leads you down to his bedroom, a large bed with a black duvet in the middle of the room. More books, a few incense candles, a few figurines in the corner of his room. "I like what you've done with the place." "Thanks, it only took fucking forever to figure out what I wanted to do. I think the exposed brick makes for a bigger headache than those home bloggers make it out to be."

It makes you feel at ease, how easy conversation can be with Sunghoon. He doesn't make anything feel inorganic, but he also doesn't talk more than necessary in order to get his point across.

"How long were you with that guy, anyway? Here, put this on." He holds out a pair of sweatpants, which you take with a quizzical look. "Three years. Uh, Hoon, the point is to be naked here, not put on more clothes." "Is that how it was with him? You'd just show up and strip?" He rolls his eyes, digging a shirt out of his dresser for you. You feel your cheeks warm as he hands it to you, before giving you a glance. "Was it?" "...Kind of." You look at your feet, and he sighs. "Yeah, well…I don't play that. Do you need help getting your dress off?" "Oh, yeah. Just the zipper." You turn, pulling your hair to the front. You feel his fingers graze your back, before he tugs the zipper down in one go. He snaps your bra strap playfully, "We can lose this, though." "Yah!" You swat his hand away, making him laugh as he turns away. "Do you want to watch something or just talk?" "We can watch something, whatever is fine. Just nothing scary, my room is spooky at night." You shudder as you undo your bra, folding it in your hand before tugging the shirt over your head. "Oh, do you intend on driving home after?" "Did you want me to stay?" Your words sound a bit bitter, and that only makes Sunghoon frown as he scours the selection on HBO from his bed. "Dude, the more things you say, the more scummy I realize this guy was to you. Next thing you know you'll tell me he never went down on you." You freeze, and Sunghoon gapes at you as you turn around, pulling the shirt down your torso. "Y/N, you've got to be kidding me." "No, he did a few times, I swear!" You try to defend him, but Sunghoon only scoffs out a laugh. "That's fucking insane. Like, actually insane." "Hoon, you're embarrassing me." You whine, and he only blinks. "Why would you be embarrassed that he didn't wanna eat you out? That in itself is embarrassing for him. Real men eat pussy, and they eat it with gusto." "Shut up." You cover your face with your hands as you hear him sigh. "I'm just saying. Now, come on. Either put the pants on or lie the hell down." You huff, shoving the pair of sweats on before joining him on his bed. This is normal, friends fuck all the time.

Except you and Sunghoon are not friends.

You must've spaced out, because the feeling of Sunghoon squeezing your knee makes you jolt. "What are you thinking about?" "Nothing." You lie, shaking your head. He hums, turning his attention to the random movie on the television. "You're a bad liar, you know?" "Am not." Scoffing, you turn to face him. Your knees hit his outer thigh as you turn, and he gives you a lazy smile. "You are. You were staring off into space and chewing on your cheek for like, five minutes. What's up?" You scrunch your nose, looking down at your hands as he tilts his head. "You can tell me, you know. I don't judge." "Don't you, though? I mean, I'm here after you absolutely dogged on my ex earlier." You snort, and he smiles. "I'm judging your ex, not you. Well, not right now at least. I will always dislike the fact that you think you deserved that treatment, let alone from a guy who probably couldn't even make you cum." Your eyes snap to his, shock across your face as he pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "Babe, come on." "He was nice!" You whine, and Sunghoon just laughs in disbelief. "Don't laugh! It's not funny!" Your lip is jutted out in a pout, before Sunghoon maneuvers you onto his lap. He makes you move up closer, your ass resting high on his thighs. "He really didn't make you finish?" You groan, adjusting yourself to sit comfortably. "I mean, he did a few times. Just not as often as I would've liked. I don't want to talk about him." You rub your temples, Sunghoon's hands finding home on your hips. "Okay, we don't have to. Tell me what you like." "What I like?" You repeat, and he nods. "Yeah. Like…positions. Any kinks, anything I should know to make this the best experience possible."

"...Does it matter?" Your voice is meek, and he rolls his eyes. "Yes, it matters. I want you to feel good. If you don't know, I can figure it out. You just have to trust me." You feel your chest warm at his words, and you glance at his face as he speaks again. "We can go as slow as you want, this is about you." "But what about you?" You toy with the hem of your shirt, and he smiles. "I'll enjoy myself either way, don't worry about me." His hands squeeze your hips gently as he looks down at you. "You okay?" "I'm nervous." You mumble, looking away as he coos. "Baby, you don't need to be nervous. It's just me." His hand comes to hold your jaw gently, making you face him. He squeezes your cheeks gently, making your lips pucker.

"You're so pretty." He smiles as he compliments you, making you roll your eyes in embarrassment. "Stop." "Why? You are. Pretty little thing." He's teasing you, your hands now holding onto his wrist as he inches closer. "Should I kiss you?" "Yes." Your reply is more of a breath, and he chuckles. "Seriously, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you, promise. Unless you're into that."

"Kiss me already." You groan, making him roll his eyes before closing the gap between you. His lips are soft and taste like cherry Chapstick. His hand lets go of your face, moving slightly down to the base of your neck. Your own hands move to fist his shirt as his teeth nip at your lower lip, a whimper from your throat making him move you impossibly higher on his lap. His other hand moves to the nape of your neck, tangling in your hair to hold you steady as his tongue slips into your mouth.

"You'll stay the night, right?" He pulls away from your lips, eyes searching your face for any sign of hesitation. You nod as best as you can with his hand in your hair, "Yeah. If you want me to." "I want you to." He whispers, before letting go of your hair. "Can we take this off?" He tugs at the shirt he gave you, and you move to tug it over your head. He lets you, watching the way your hair cascades down your back. His hands find home on your waist, his thumbs barely grazing the underside of your breasts as you look back at him, flinging the shirt somewhere behind you.

He doesn't say anything, only meeting your lips in a kiss. It's softer this time, but your tongue finds its way into his mouth gently. He sucks on it, hearing a low moan from you as your hips cant against his. "Sorry."

"No, don't be." He shakes his head, pressing chaste kisses to your lips. "Use me however you want, baby. That's what I'm here for."

"But–" "This is about you. Just let go." He meets your lips once more, kissing you deeply as his hands grip your hips tightly. He moves you against his hardening cock slowly, setting a gentle pace for you. You follow his lead, rutting against him as his hands move upward before you grab them and place them on your chest. He groans lowly into your mouth, thumbs grazing over your pebbled nipples as he drags his lips down your jaw, your soft whimpers filling the air as his teeth nip at your neck.

"S'fucking gorgeous." He murmurs against your skin, tracing his tongue down the gentle slope of your neck, a shudder running down your spine as he kisses down your chest. "Can I?" His doe eyes peer up at you though shaggy bangs, and you nod quickly. Your fingers card through his hair as his tongue flattens against your nipple as you groan.

"Feel good?" He mumbles against your skin. You only breathe out shakily as you nod, your lip bitten between your teeth as he nips and sucks his way across your chest, your nipples glistening with his spit. He scrapes his teeth against one gently, earning a guttural groan from your lips as he kisses up your chest. "Wanna taste you, angel. Can I?" Your pupils are blown as you look down at him, your fingers pushing his hair back as his hands dip below the sweatpants you're wearing. "Can I?" "Okay." Your voice is slightly raspy with lust, and he smiles softly before pressing a kiss to your lips. "We can stop anytime, just say the word."

You nod, moving off his lap. He lays you back on his pillows, kissing your lips softly before trailing down your body. "So beautiful, baby. Can't get enough of you." He kisses down your stomach, before his teeth catch on the waistband of the sweatpants you're wearing. He bites down carefully, pulling them down your legs as you cover your face with a whine. "Something wrong?" He calls, pulling them off your ankles and flinging them to the ground.

"No." You respond weakly, and he smirks as his fingers land on your thighs, pulling you closer to him. "You're lying." "You're just hot, okay?" You peek at him through your fingers, seeing him shake his head as he snaps the waistband of your underwear against your skin. You jolt as he smiles, before sinking to his stomach and spreading your legs. You hear a soft whisper of shit from his lips. "Sorry? Is something wrong?"

You try to move away, only for Sunghoon to hold your hips down. "You're fucking soaked, doll. Holy shit."

He doesn't give you a chance to respond, opting to press his face against the sticky fabric of your ruined underwear and inhale deeply, a whine from his throat hitting your ears as he noses at the fabric. "You're so fucking hot."

You feel his tongue before you reply, the underwear a useless attempt at a barrier as he finds your clit easily. Your thighs tense around his head, his preening at the taste of you just through the fabric is enough to make him cum in his pants. "Hoon…" You mewl, your fingers tugging at his hair to get his attention. He only hums in response.

"Take them off." Your whine is loud, and he hastily pulls your underwear down your plush thighs, throwing it over his shoulder as he dives back in, tongue lapping at your wet cunt like a man starved. You're a moaning mess as his pouty lips wrap around your clit, sucking gently as he pushes your thighs open further, working two fingers inside you carefully. He groans at the way you clench around them so tightly, your walls so warm and wet as he curls them into you.

"Taste so sweet, pretty. Would never give this up, ever." He murmurs against your clit, pressing wet kisses to it. You can't even respond, your eyes screwed shut as you cant your hips against his mouth harshly. "That's it, baby. Come on, give it to me." He's whining against your pussy, latching his lips to your clit as your thighs begin to tremble.

"H-Hold my hand." You mumble, and Sunghoon immediately laces his free hand with yours. "Need you to cum on my tongue, beautiful." His fingers find that spongy spot, making your soft belly cave in as your thighs close around his head. A choked moan leaves your lips as you coat his tongue and lips in your orgasm, your body trembling beneath him as you try to push his head away from you. "S'too much, Hoonie-" "One more, baby. You can give me one more." He bullies his shoulders through your thighs, moving to hover over you. He presses his wet lips to yours, your tongue attempting to collect any taste of you off of him. He lets you deepen the kiss, his hand snaking between your legs to rub teasing circles into your clit. Your mouth falls slack, your nails digging into his bicep. "One more, baby. Wanna feel you around me." "O-Okay."

He reaches over you to his nightstand, pulling the drawer open to find an empty box of condoms. "Fuck, wait. I think–" "Want it raw." You mumble, eyes closed as your hands run under his shirt, fingers tracing circles into his softly chiseled abdomen. His eyes are wide, his hand coming to your face, stroking it gently. "Look at me. Are you sure?"

"Positive. Want it, Hoonie. Wanna feel full." You barely open your eyes as you nod, turning your head slightly to kiss his palm. He shivers slightly, closing his eyes to compose himself as he nods. "O-Okay. Alright." He straightens, pulling his shirt over his head and quickly pushing his sweats down. You don't bother to look down, knowing in your heart the stretch will be worth a thousand viewings. He pulls you to the edge of the bed by your thighs, carefully tucking a pillow under your hips as he rests your leg on his chest. He kisses your ankle softly, before running the leaking tip of his cock through your wet folds. He nearly buckles, the warmth almost debilitating as he eased himself into you. Your mewl is so soft he almost misses it, his eyes darting to your face as he slowly sheaths himself inside you, biting his lip so hard he's sure he'll draw blood. Your lips are so swollen from the kissing and biting that he can't help but lean over and kiss you gently, burying himself to the hilt inside you. Your soft whisper of fuck is against his lips. "Move, Hoon." "You gotta give me a second, baby." He whines into your neck, making you clench around him. "Fuck, fuck don't do that." His hips jerk involuntarily, earning a choked moan from you as your nails dig into his shoulder. He straightens himself, figuring if he's going to cum fast, he'd better make it worth your while. He pulls out almost entirely, pushing your thighs to your chest as he bullies his cock back into you. Your moans are so loud he's lost in them, your chants of yes, yes, right there so overwhelming for him as he tries his hardest to stave off his own orgasm.

"Feel so fucking good, baby. Shit." He whimpers into the air, his grip on your thighs bruising as you mewl beneath him, your hands finding his wrists. "Kiss me, Hoonie. Wan' a kiss.." He leans forward, the kiss a mess of teeth and tongue as he bottoms out inside you repeatedly. His tip is bullying your sweet spot relentlessly, making you whine into his mouth. "Want you to cum in me." You whisper, and he almost stops as the words hit his ears but your nails drag down his back. "Want you to fill me up, Hoonie. Please."

"Anything you want, fuck. I'll give you anything, baby." His voice is choked as he trails his lips down your neck, feeling your cunt flutter around him in that oh-so-familiar way. "Gonna cum for me? Gonna cream all over this dick?" You only whimper in response, your teeth sinking softly into his shoulder. He feels himself spill inside you at the sensation, a deep groan from his soul as you cum right after. He doesn't stop working the two of you through it, his hips bordering the two of you into overstimulation as you claw at him.

He feels his skin sticky as he rests his forehead on your shoulder, your fingers now flat against the muscle of his back as you breathe in deeply. You shift slightly beneath him, before patting his shoulder. "I don't…I can't get up, I don't think. I can't feel my legs." You rasp, and he chuckles into your skin.

"Yeah, that's usually what's supposed to happen." He replies smugly, earning a sharp smack from your hand in the middle of his back. "Ouch! What the hell!" "I told you to stop making fun of me!" You huff, and he moves to look at you. "I'm not! Did I not just give you two mind blowing orgasms?"

"I wouldn't say mindblowing–" He rolls his eyes as he covers your mouth. "I made you cum, which was the goal. Was it not?" "No, the goal was to get over my ex." You say, muffled by the palm of his hand. He ponders a bit, before looking down at you intently. "Well, are you?" You feel your cheeks flush as you look away. "Maybe. Might need to go again, don't know. Not fully convinced." "Not fully convinced, she says." He removes his hand from your mouth as he teases you gently, and you roll your eyes. "Okay, fine. You're good, you got me." You admit tiredly, and he smiles.

"For how long?" "What?" You look up at him, and he shrugs. "How long do I have you?" You let your eyes scan his face as he looks down at you with curiosity in his eyes. You scoff, an amused tone to your voice. "You like me." "Obviously." He rolls his eyes, "Otherwise I wouldn't have offered." "You sly little minx. Luring me in here with the premise of getting me over my ex, knowing I'm on the rebound." You poke his chest, and he scoffs. "Clearly, you like me too. Or else you could've absolutely dodged my offer." "Or maybe I think you're hot and wouldn't mind seeing you outside of the cute little necklaces my sister makes you wear." You tease, and he shrugs. "I'll take what I can get. Either way, do you feel better? Less thoughts about that idiot, more good feelings?" You nod, sitting up on your elbows. "Let me take you to dinner, Hoon." He blinks at you, before glancing at the clock on his nightstand. "It's two in the morning, babe." "Not right now. Later. After you're done babysitting." You say, and he raises his brows. "Are you sure?" "I wouldn't offer if I didn't want to." Your tone is pointed, and he scoffs. "You want me so fucking bad." "In your dreams. Get off me, I'm all sticky."

He does just that, and takes the most gentle care of you. He lets you lean against him in the shower, he shampoos your hair and steals kisses when you least expect it. He changes his sheets while you try to sit comfortably in his desk chair, complaining of sore hips and thighs as he smirks to himself. "So much for a rebound, huh?" He murmurs into your hair as you snuggle into his side, making you snort. "Go to sleep, Sunghoon. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, babe."

"Not your babe, Hoon."

"Not yet."

5K notes · View notes

lowrisemiller · 1 month ago

Text

ʜᴏᴡ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴊᴏᴇʟ ʀᴇᴀᴄᴛꜱ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟᴀᴄᴇ ᴘᴀɴᴛɪᴇꜱ ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

| 3.6k words | masterlist | kissing, groping, oral f receiving, fingering, multiple orgasms, unprotected piv smut (every joel deserves it raw I don't make the rules), no prep (its okay tho), teasing, joel is a menace, he rips the panties, rough sex, joel is a MUNCH

pre-outbreak joel!

The house is quiet when you slip through the door. Lights dimmed, a warm amber glow spilling from under the hallway as you kick your shoes off. Rain taps gently at the windows. It smells like cedar and laundry, like him.

You walk past the kitchen, past the folded throw blanket on the arm of the couch—his reading glasses tucked into the cushion crease. A soft smile pulls at your lips.

Joel’s home.

Bedroom door cracked just enough to show the light flickering from the nightstand lamp. He’s lying in bed, shirtless, one arm behind his head, book forgotten on his chest. His eyes track you the second you appear.

“Hey, darlin’.” His voice is low, gravel warm with sleep.

“Hey.” You rest against the doorframe. “Didn’t think you’d wait up.”

“Wasn’t sure when you’d get home.” He stretches, slow and unhurried, the covers dipping low over his hips. “Didn’t wanna fall asleep without ya.”

Your stomach flutters. Stupid soft man.

You pad toward the dresser, undoing the buttons of your blouse one by one. His eyes follow. You feel it like heat on your skin. You fold your top neatly and set it down, slipping out of your jeans next.

Then—finally—he sees them.

New lace panties, soft lavender and sheer, with little bows on the sides. Not even remotely practical. Delicate and meant for his eyes only.

Joel’s whole body stills.

You turn toward the closet to grab a shirt, voice light. “I was gonna save ‘em for later.”

A low sound rumbles from his chest.

“The hell were you thinkin’,” he mutters, “walkin’ around in those, talkin’ about later.”

You glance over your shoulder just as he tosses the covers back. The book lands somewhere on the floor. He sits on the edge of the bed, legs spread, his gaze molten.

“C’mere.”

There’s no command in it—just the kind of drawl that makes your knees weak.

You walk toward him, heart fluttering. He reaches for you slow, calloused hands trailing up your thighs until his thumbs hook in the lace. His fingers trace the tiny bows like he’s reading Braille.

“Pretty little thing like you,” he murmurs. “Wastin’ somethin’ this sweet on later.”

“I was gonna change,” you breathe. “Figured you were tired.”

“Tired don’t mean dead.”

You laugh—and gasp when he pulls you gently into his lap, straddling one thigh. His hands cradle your hips, his mouth ghosting kisses along your belly, your ribs, just beneath the edge of your bra.

His voice is a low rasp against your skin. “This for me?”

You nod. His thumb tugs at one bow.

“Say it.”

“It’s for you.”

He hums like that’s his favorite sound in the world. Then he’s kissing your inner thigh, the lace dampening beneath the heat of his mouth. You shift, hands in his hair, gasping when he eases you down onto the bed, tugging the panties aside—not off—because he wants you ruined in them.

You’re breathless under him, spine arching as Joel drags his mouth up your thigh. One of his hands presses to your stomach, holding you steady like he knows you’re about to come apart.

“Such a goddamn tease,” he murmurs, voice warm and rough as his lips skim over the thin strip of lace. “Comin’ in here lookin’ like a dream.”

Your hips lift instinctively when his tongue flicks just where you need it. The panties are barely in his way—just pushed to the side—and it’s somehow worse that he leaves them on, like he’s savoring the sight of you still dressed for him.

You whimper, fingers digging into the sheets.

Joel groans low in his throat, clearly pleased. “That’s it, baby. Don’t hold back.”

His mouth is unrelenting—slow circles of his tongue, the soft scrape of his beard making your thighs tremble. He’s not in a rush. He’s never in a rush when it comes to this. Joel’s the kind of man who learns your body like a song, and he plays every note until you’re strung out and shaking.

You reach down, tugging gently at his curls, hips starting to buck against his mouth, and that’s when he grips your thigh harder, anchoring you to the bed.

“Easy, now,” he murmurs between licks. “I got you.”

Then he flattens his tongue, presses in deep—and you feel it everywhere. Heat floods your belly. Your breath catches.

“Joel—”

“Yeah,” he rasps, voice hoarse, mouth glistening. “Say my name just like that.”

He keeps going until you’re gasping, legs trembling around his shoulders, and when he finally lets up—when he kisses your thigh and pulls back, breath warm on your skin—you think it’s over.

But Joel’s not done.

He leans over you, pushing your legs apart, still tangled in lace. His cock presses hot and thick against your thigh, and you can feel how hard he is, feel the way he trembles just a little as he lines himself up.

“Think I’m gonna take you just like this,” he murmurs, voice thick with heat. “Pretty little panties still on.”

You moan at that, eyes fluttering shut as he presses inside—slow, deep, filling you completely. Your back arches, arms curling around his shoulders as he buries himself to the hilt.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “So goddamn tight. You feel that, baby?”

You nod, too wrecked to answer. The lace rubs against your hips as he starts to move, the slow, grinding thrusts more intimate than anything. You’re gasping into his neck, clutching at him as he rolls his hips—deep and steady, dragging every second out.

“I ain’t goin’ anywhere,” he murmurs into your skin. “You take your time. I’ll be right here.”

Your second climax builds slower, warmer—coaxed out of you with patient hands and thick, steady strokes. Joel kisses your jaw, your cheek, your temple as you fall apart under him again, and then he finally lets go, groaning your name as he finishes, hips jerking once, twice.

He stays inside you for a moment, forehead pressed to yours, chest heaving.

Then a quiet chuckle.

“Guess I owe you a thank you for those panties.”

You laugh, breathless. “Told you they were for later.”

Joel grins as he brushes your hair back from your face, still inside you, still tangled up in lace.

“Darlin’,” he says, “it is later.”

smuggler joel!

The door slams shut behind you.

Joel’s already pushing you back into the shadows of the storage room—his mouth crashing over yours, rough and frantic. His hands are everywhere, gripping your hips, shoving your coat off your shoulders, the scratch of his stubble dragging over your cheek.

You gasp into the kiss. “Joel—someone could—”

“Don’t care.”

You barely make it three feet into the room before he’s spinning you toward the wall. The concrete is cold through your shirt. His hand plants beside your head, the other slips beneath your waistband.

“You wearin’ what I think you’re wearin’?” he mutters against your neck.

You nod, breath hitching. “Yeah. The ones from the market—those lace—”

Joel groans. “Fuckin’ hell.”

Then you feel it—the sound, the rip, his hand fisting the waistband and tearing straight through the fabric like it offended him.

“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you in these,” he growls. “Had to see for myself.”

Your cheek is against the wall, hips angled back as he shoves your pants down, baring you to the cool air and his calloused touch. The lace slips to the floor in tatters. You don’t even get a second to protest.

Joel’s already unzipping.

The room smells like gunpowder and sweat, dust rising from the floor as his boots shift behind you. He grips your hips—big hands rough and dirty from patrol, fingers biting into your skin like he needs to prove something.

“Wanted to fuck you so bad back there,” he mutters. “Watchin’ you walk ahead of me, swayin’ your hips like that. Knew you were wearin’ these.”

You moan when you feel him, hard and hot, thick against your thigh. He doesn’t ease in slow. There’s no time for slow. He grits out your name and pushes inside in one long thrust that punches the air from your lungs.

“Joel—!”

He groans against your shoulder. “So fuckin’ tight.”

You brace your hands against the wall, trying to catch your breath. He doesn’t give it to you. His pace is fast, brutal—desperate. Like he’s been holding it in for weeks. Maybe he has.

You cry out when his hand slips under your shirt, up your chest, palming your breast through your bra.

“Always so fuckin’ soft,” he pants, rutting into you. “Mine, yeah?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Joel, yes—”

He grunts at that, slamming into you harder, his grip on your hip bruising. The slap of skin echoes in the room, filthy and fast, and your legs are shaking already, barely holding you up.

Then his hand moves down, between your thighs, two fingers slipping through the slickness he’s already made.

“C’mon, baby,” he growls, voice hot at your ear. “Wanna feel you come.”

You whimper, fingers clawing at the wall. “I’m close—fuck, Joel—”

“Yeah, you are. Let go for me. Right fuckin’ now.”

You cry out when it hits—tight, white-hot pleasure bursting behind your eyes. He fucks you through it, still muttering curses under his breath, hips stuttering as he follows you over the edge with a groan that sounds like it’s been buried in his chest for weeks.

You both collapse against the wall, breathing hard. Your panties are in shreds. Your legs are trembling.

Joel presses a kiss to the back of your neck. “That was overdue.”

You laugh—weak and hoarse. “Think you broke my pelvis.”

He grins against your skin. “Was tryin’ to.”

boston qz joel!

The knock at his door is sharp and fast. Urgent. Joel opens it with his pistol half drawn, but it’s just you—soaked from the rain, blood on your cheek, breath shallow like you ran the whole way here.

“They raided my place,” you pant. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

Joel doesn’t say anything. Just steps aside and lets you in.

Your pack drops to the floor with a wet thud. You toe off your boots. His place is cramped and spare—brick walls, broken heater, one chair, one cot.

No guest bed.

You eye the cot. Joel follows your gaze.

“You can have it,” he says.

You shake your head. “You’re too big for the chair.”

“I’ve slept on worse.”

You lift your brows. “Joel.”

He sighs, jaw ticking.

“We’ll share, then,” you say before he can argue. “Just for tonight.”

He doesn’t answer. Just nods, turns away, and grabs you a shirt. You change in the bathroom—wipe off the blood, clean up as best you can. When you step back out, he’s already in bed, turned to face the wall.

You slip under the blanket.

For a while, there’s just silence. Rain tapping against the window. Joel breathing steady. Your shoulders stiffen every time the bed shifts beneath him, every time your legs accidentally brush.

“You okay?” he mutters.

You glance over. He’s still facing the wall, but you can see the line of his jaw, the tight set of his shoulders.

“Yeah,” you say. “Just cold.”

Joel’s quiet for a moment. Then his arm slides back, palm open.

You scoot closer.

He pulls you against him—big and solid and warm. Your back to his chest, his arm slung around your waist, fingertips resting low on your stomach. Neither of you breathes for a second.

“This alright?” he asks, voice low.

You nod. “Yeah. It’s…good.”

It stays that way for a while. His body heat seeps into yours. His breathing calms you.

Then his hand shifts.

Lower.

You freeze.

He doesn’t move again—but his fingers are brushing the waistband of your panties now. You feel his breath stutter behind you.

“You knew you were gonna end up in my bed tonight,” he mutters. “Didn’t you?”

You squirm. “I didn’t know they’d raid my place.”

“But you still wore these,” he murmurs, slipping his hand down further, cupping you through the lace. “Sweet little thing. Always actin’ innocent.”

Your breath catches. His fingers rub slow circles, the fabric dampening under his touch.

“You want me to stop?” he asks, lips brushing your neck.

“No.”

“Good.”

He shifts behind you—hips pressing into yours, thick and hard through his boxers. He hooks your knee over his thigh, opening you up to him. His hand slips beneath the lace, fingers slick and rough and just barely enough.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “So wet already. Bet you been thinkin’ about this for weeks.”

You moan, rocking your hips back into his.

Joel groans, deep and low. “Don’t do that unless you want me to lose what little fuckin’ control I got.”

“Then lose it.”

You feel him tense—then shove his boxers down just enough to press against your entrance. Still behind you. Still slow. His hand lifts your leg higher, his other arm tight around your chest.

Then he pushes in.

You gasp, clutching the blanket. He’s thick, stretching you deep, your lace panties still hooked around one thigh. It’s filthy and hot and exactly what you’ve both been aching for.

“You feel that?” he grits. “Takin’ me so fuckin’ good.”

Your head tips back against his shoulder. He thrusts into you, slow and rough, the bed creaking under your bodies. You cling to his forearm, lost in the rhythm, lost in the heat curling low in your belly.

When he feels you getting close, Joel’s hand slides back down.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs. “Come for me. Right here in my bed.”

You break apart with a soft cry, your legs trembling, hips shaking. Joel follows with a growl, hips jerking once, twice before he buries himself deep and stills.

You both lie there, breathless.

The rain has stopped.

He brushes hair from your face. “You sleepin’ here from now on.”

You smile, turning in his arms to press your lips to his jaw. “Yeah. I know.”

jackson joel!

“You leave ‘em on purpose?”

Joel’s voice cuts through the quiet of his house, low and thick with that rough Southern drag that curls right down your spine.

The front door’s locked. The snow’s started to fall again outside.

His fingers hold the delicate black lace between two fingers, swaying slightly like a warning—or a promise. Ellie had waved them at him earlier in the week, grinning like the devil, told him she almost tossed them in the fire before realizing they weren’t hers.

You’d turned scarlet.

Now they’re dangling from his hand, that slow smirk playing on his face.

“Well?” he asks, stepping closer.

The fireplace crackles behind you. His house smells like cinnamon and pine and something he picked up from the bakery this morning. You’d promised to make him a pie tonight. Apple. Just the way he likes it.

But Joel’s only hungry for one thing right now.

You lean back against the kitchen counter, heart thudding.

“Maybe,” you murmur.

His brow lifts. “Maybe?”

“I wanted you to find ‘em. Just… not Ellie.”

Joel chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. “You’re trouble.”

He tosses the panties onto the table like a challenge, then closes the distance until his hips press yours into the counter, one hand bracing beside your head. His other hand coasts under your sweater, slow and warm and possessive.

“You walkin’ around town,” he mutters, “bakin’ pies, smiling like that—like you ain’t got your panties layin around.”

You squirm, breath hitching.

He leans in, lips ghosting over yours, not quite kissing yet.

“She said they were in my hiking boots, darlin’,” he adds, a little gruff. “Was that supposed to be some kind of message?”

You smile, innocent as sin. “Did you get it?”

Joel’s eyes flash.

The kiss is immediate—hot and deep, all tongue and teeth and quiet groans in the warmth of the kitchen. His hands explore like he’s been waiting weeks, sliding down to grip your hips, then lower, pulling you flush.

“Turn around,” he growls against your mouth.

You hesitate, but something in his tone makes your knees go soft. You turn, palms flat on the counter, back to him. He kisses the back of your neck, slow and reverent, while his hands travel under your skirt, pushing it up until the cool air hits your thighs.

He reaches for the lace again—those damn panties—and slides them slowly up your legs, back where they belong. His hands pause at your hips, fingers slipping under the elastic.

“Leave ‘em on,” you whisper.

He hums, satisfied. “You like makin’ me wait.”

You don’t answer—not when he pushes the lace to the side and drags his fingers through you, slow, methodical, feeling how ready you are.

Joel doesn’t rush. He keeps one hand on your hip and the other between your thighs, teasing you until you’re gasping softly, forehead pressed to your arm on the counter.

Then he pulls away, just long enough to undo his jeans.

You feel the blunt pressure of him against you, his hand guiding himself where you need him most.

He slides in slowly, a hiss through his teeth.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Always so good for me.”

You arch back into him, and his hands grip your hips hard as he starts to move. The rhythm is slow at first, deep and thorough, each thrust hitting just right with the lace still clinging to your thighs. The sounds of the fire crackling, your soft whimpers, and his low curses fill the room like a song only the two of you know.

“Thinkin’ about this all damn week,” he murmurs. “My kitchen. You in those little panties. Bent over like this.”

“Joel—”

He shushes you with a hand sliding up your front, under your sweater and bra, fingers finding your breast.

“Don’t you worry, baby,” he rasps, voice like gravel and honey. “Gonna give you every damn inch.”

And he does—again and again—until you’re unraveling in his arms, legs shaking, mouth open in a silent cry. He follows fast, hips stuttering against your backside, forehead pressed to your shoulder, breath hot and shaky.

When it’s over, he wraps his arms around you from behind and holds you there against the counter, both of you breathless, tangled in lace and heat and quiet laughter.

You tilt your head back against him. “So... still mad about the boot?”

Joel chuckles, nuzzling into your neck.

“Only ‘cause now I gotta start checkin’ all my shoes.”

1K notes · View notes

sunarryn · 1 month ago

Text

DP X Marvel #28

Danny Fenton stormed into the Daily Bugle building like a man possessed, camera slung over his shoulder, sneakers squeaking against the linoleum. His black T-shirt was on inside-out, his jeans had something suspiciously green on them (was that ectoplasm? Probably), and he looked two seconds away from spontaneous combustion. “I GOT THE SHOT!” he howled across the bullpen, startling at least three interns into dropping their coffees.

From behind a stack of papers that looked like it could topple and kill him at any moment, Peter Parker popped his head out like a whack-a-mole. His brown hair was tousled from stress and probable head scratching, and his sharp brown eyes narrowed like a cat spotting a laser pointer. “What shot?” he said, voice dripping with suspicion.

Danny slapped a photo onto the nearest desk, narrowly missing someone’s lunch. It was a pristine, perfectly lit shot of Phantom — that is, himself — battling some ugly sludge ghost over Times Square. Midair. Lighting perfect. The skyline behind him dramatic as hell. He looked like he belonged on a propaganda poster for ghost superheroes.

Peter’s nostrils flared.

J. Jonah Jameson himself, like a vulture sniffing out fresh blood, materialized from his office with the speed of a man half his age. “FENTON! MY BOY!” he bellowed, grabbing Danny’s shoulder with a grip that felt like being caught in a bear trap. “THIS is what I’m TALKING ABOUT! Parker, you see this? This is journalism!”

“I take great shots!” Peter barked defensively. “Better than this amateur!”

“You take shots of that masked menace Spider-Man standing still like a mall Easter Bunny!” Jameson roared. “Fenton here got the flying ghost punk throwing a goddamn ghost punch! Action! Drama! Fear! It’s what the public wants!”

Danny tried very hard not to preen like a smug cat. Peter looked like he wanted to throttle him with the camera strap.

Danny leaned over Peter’s shoulder with all the subtlety of a Mack truck. “You know,” he whispered, “maybe if your subject actually moved once in a while instead of just posing for you, you’d have better material.”

Peter gritted his teeth so hard Danny could practically hear them shattering. “Maybe if your subject wasn’t a literal glowing neon sign with no sense of stealth, your photos wouldn’t look like paparazzi shots from a concert.”

“Oh, is that why my shots sell and yours just gather dust in the bargain bin?” Danny chirped.

“Screw you,” Peter said sweetly.

“Boys!” Jameson barked. “Less flirting, more photos!”

Danny and Peter exchanged murderous glares, which lasted exactly until Jameson stomped away and slammed his office door so hard the windows rattled.

“I hope Phantom drops you off a building,” Peter muttered.

“I hope Spider-Man webs your face to a moving bus,” Danny hissed back.

Neither of them knew that later that night, Phantom and Spider-Man would be perching on a water tower together, eating street tacos and gossiping about the villains they’d fought that day.

“You’re kidding,” Phantom — aka Danny, in his ghost form, white hair glowing faintly under the moonlight — said, laughing so hard he nearly fell off the water tower. “Green Goblin threw a pumpkin bomb at you? Seriously?”

Spider-Man, legs dangling off the edge like a kid on a swing set, groaned into his mask. “It wasn’t even Halloween. I don’t even get thematic consistency. And he monologued for like twenty minutes about being the ‘spirit of mischief’ or some crap. Like, bro, get new material.”

Danny howled with laughter, clutching his stomach.

“And what about you, Casper?” Spider-Man teased, nudging him with an elbow. “You and that sludge monster. Heard it made Times Square look like a Nickelodeon Kids’ Choice Awards slime zone.”

“It tried to eat a hot dog cart,” Danny said, still giggling. “I had to bribe it with a corn dog just to get it off the vendor.”

There was a long, comfortable silence as they sat there, munching on tacos, the city sprawling out beneath them.

“Hey,” Spider-Man said after a moment, “you ever feel like… weirdly lucky? Like… we’re the only sane people in this town?”

Danny snorted, accidentally inhaling some shredded lettuce. He coughed violently. “Oh, God, no. I’m the most unhinged person I know. You’re just enabling me.”

“Glad to be a bad influence,” Spider-Man said solemnly, bumping his shoulder.

They grinned at each other, the best of friends, utterly oblivious that by day they were mortal photographic enemies ready to commit homicide over who got the front page.

The next day, Peter and Danny both showed up to the Bugle at the exact same time, both slamming their best new action shots onto the desk with the kind of passive-aggressive force that cracked the laminate.

Jameson, sipping what smelled like pure battery acid from his coffee cup, squinted at both photos. One was Spider-Man in a perfect mid-swing action shot, muscles taut, city blurred behind him. The other was Phantom blasting a giant ghost in the face with a green energy blast, looking like an angel of vengeance with glowing eyes.

Jameson looked up at both of them. “I’m putting them both on the front page,” he said gruffly.

Danny and Peter stared at each other in horror.

“Joint credit,” Jameson added gleefully.

“WHAT?!” they shouted in perfect unison.

“I’M NOT SHARING A BYLINE WITH HIM!” Peter shrieked.

“HE STILL USES AUTOFOCUS!” Danny screamed.

“I’LL AUTOFOCUS YOUR FACE!”

“I’LL SHOVE A CORN DOG UP YOUR–”

“OUT!” Jameson roared. “OUT, BOTH OF YOU, BEFORE I THROW YOU OUT!”

They bickered all the way down the hall, accidentally knocking over a filing cabinet, a poor intern, and somehow setting a potted plant on fire.

Later that night, Phantom showed up to their usual rooftop hangout with two burritos and a soda.

“You will not believe the jackass I had to deal with today,” Danny said, dropping dramatically next to Spider-Man. “This punk at my job thinks he’s better than me just because he’s been there longer or whatever. I swear to God, if I wasn’t trying to maintain a secret identity–”

“Bro,” Spider-Man said sympathetically, handing him the soda. “I feel you. There’s this guy at my job too. Cocky little bastard. Thinks he’s so great because he got a few good shots of you.”

Danny nearly choked. “Of me?”

Spider-Man nodded. “Yeah. Just because you are a little flashy, everyone thinks it’s hard to get a decent shot of you. Like, no offense. All that brat needs to do is just stand there with a camera for five minutes and he’ll get praised by our boss.”

Danny felt personally attacked but chose to let it slide. “Sounds rough, man.”

Spider-Man peeled off a piece of his burrito. “Maybe we should swap workplaces. You go deal with my guy, I deal with yours. Mutual destruction.”

Danny smirked. “Tempting. But I don’t think I could survive two minutes without punching Parker in the face.”

Spider-Man nearly dropped his burrito. “Wait. Did you just say Parker?”

Danny froze. “Uh. No? Maybe? Shut up.”

Spider-Man leaned closer, suspicious. “Do you work with Peter Parker?”

“Do you?” Danny shot back.

They stared at each other.

“Wait,” Danny said slowly. “You know him?”

Spider-Man shrugged. “Yeah, kinda. I work…in the vicinity.”

Danny narrowed his eyes. “So you know he’s an annoying, smug, camera-hogging little–”

Spider-Man laughed nervously. “Haha, uh… yeah… he sucks…”

Danny glared at him, not buying it.

Spider-Man cleared his throat. “ANYWAY. Uh. You know what else sucks? Ghosts. Ghosts suck. No offense again.”

Danny laughed and threw a chip at him. “None taken, Webhead.”

Meanwhile, across town, Peter was already spiraling internally.

“Oh my God, my best ghost buddy is probably best friends with my biggest work rival.”

“Oh my God, my best ghost buddy IS my biggest work rival.”

“Oh my God, I am the problem.”

The true chaos didn’t erupt until the annual Bugle Staff Picnic.

Danny showed up late, sweating through his T-shirt, sunglasses perched on his nose, and a single bag of chips as his contribution. He was halfway through dodging Karen from Accounting’s attempt to set him up with her niece when he froze.

Peter Parker was across the lawn. Talking animatedly to someone. Gesturing. Laughing.

Laughing exactly like Spider-Man.

Danny’s soul left his body.

“No,” he whispered. “No, no, no, no, no.”

Peter turned. Their eyes met across the sea of coworkers.

Danny saw realization dawn in Peter’s eyes at the exact same time.

Both of them mouthed a silent “OH SHIT.”

Peter dropped his burger. Danny dropped his chips.

They sprinted toward each other at full speed. Everyone else thought it was some dramatic teenage romance moment and started cheering.

“What the hell!” Danny whispered-hissed as they collided behind a conveniently parked hot dog cart. “You’re Spider-Man?!?”

“What the hell!” Peter whispered-hissed back, grabbing Danny’s collar. “You’re Phantom?!?”

They stared at each other in horror.

And then, slowly, devilish grins spread across both their faces.

“You know,” Danny said thoughtfully, “we could use this.”

Peter leaned in conspiratorially. “Team up?”

“Ruin everyone’s lives?” Danny agreed.

“Front page domination,” Peter said.

“Partners in crime,” Danny added.

They shook on it, sealing a blood pact of chaos neither the Bugle nor New York City would ever recover from.

J. Jonah Jameson watched from his office window, sipping his coffee suspiciously.

Something told him he was about to have an aneurysm before the summer was over.

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plutoswritingplanet · 23 days ago

Text

In My Back (Remmick x Female! Reader)

a/n: sooo uuuh... basically yeah... never in my life had i been on such a long writer's kick. idk what they put in this irish freak but im eating it up (this is a long one, like 11k words i think). Cross Posted on AO3

Warnings: Canon Violence, Carpet Munching like crazy, P in V, just... Smut y'know, Some Plot, Manipulation, General Vampire Shenanigans

Summary: Three times he comes in the night, with offers a plenty on his fingertips. The third night, he leaves you with a gift. A Devil's kiss and a taste for freedom.

MASTERLIST

"And then, when you least expect it..." your cousin's voice dips down into a menacing tone, that only serves to push a giggle out of your chest "They sink their teeth, and suck the blood straight outta your bones"

She snaps her mouth at you, teeth clinking together, and you push her away, laughing at the story. She laughs as well, dodging skillfully, as you swipe a wet rag at her.

"Stupid" you huff, trying to act exasperated with her antics, and failing miserably, as always. "I told you not to bother me with those silly stories."

She shrugs at that, twirls around the kitchen, like a fine lady in a coarse dress, her bare feet sliding over the linoleum tiles. You watch, as she dances out of the kitchen, grabbing a muffin from the table. You almost scold her, but decide to let it go, as you usually do. It's hard to be mad at her, damn near impossible to be honest. She always had a way of melting coldness around her.

With a small sigh, you go back to cleaning, wiping the counter and the windows, your mind wandering to your cousin's stories. It's always ghosts and goblins with her. Some new, terrifying thing, that would surely snuff sleep off your eyelids, if your feet weren't planted firmly on the ground. That's how it's always been, since the moment you both learned to crawl. She was the flying one, the one with her head in the clouds, too preoccupied with counting the stars to look down.

And you were the complete opposite. Grass at your feet, a clear road ahead of you. No wondering, no straying.

Sometimes you envied her lightness, sometimes you remembered, it was a burden. Especially for a woman on this earth. Despite that, she never lost herself. Despite hardship after hardship, she remained strong in her openness, in her will to think beyond, what the world offered her. How she did that, after living the past she's had, was beyond you.

God must be a cruel, cruel man, you think. For condemning the most unequipped for the biggest disappointments.

Still, you made sure, your cousin would never have to face her life alone. Not while you're still standing, unmoving, like an ancient pine tree. You would always give her shade, always protect her from the rain, pull her down if need be.

The sun starts to set over the horizon, the last rays of light flickering behind the woods. Your house was small, and well hidden, despite its proximity to the town. Your parents knew what they were doing, choosing this place to settle down, and you couldn't be more grateful. Before your cousin begged for shelter, you lived here alone, picking up both your parents' professions. And so, along with baking and feeding the entire area, you also became mean with any car troubles. A woman's and a man's job, both of them dancing under the sweat of your brow.

Your cousin begged you to leave that "dirty work". To focus on opening a legitimate business, a bakery at the marketplace. She cussed, cleaning out grease stains from your skirts, and you didn't have the strength, nor patience to explain to her, how you're only able to afford the soap in her hand, because the "dirty work" payed better, than any baking.

And so, when she stops you at the door, her arms crossed in front of her chest, her nose scrunched. She's looking you over, taking in the rough gloves and the utility belt, contrasting almost comically with the flowy material of your dress.

"Don't start" you point at her with your wrench, and she raises her hands in a mockery of surrender.

Her mouth twists in a way, that betrays her inner thoughts, betrays her need to say more. But, to your general surprise, she swallows, shaking her head. Then, her eyes find yours, and you feel the tangible warmth of comfort, at the slight, teasing pull of her mouth.

"Don't let any monsters in" she chirps behind you, as you open the door, and start walking towards your late Daddy's workshop.

All you can do is laugh. A rough sound, deep and dark like freshly brewed coffee. A mourning dove, and a wise owl, that's what you two were.

Lamps guide your steps through the darkness, as you make your way towards the workshop. It's a spacious raggedy shack, your father built himself, every nook and cranny marked by his strength. You feel as if you're stepping into a church, every time you slide the barn doors open.

It takes you a moment to light the place up, as you skip around a beaten down Buick, your feet padding softly over the recently swiped floors. The silence of the night calms you down, adds a layer of something almost sacred to your work. Night birds call out in the woods, crickets chirp in the grass, and you inhale the crisp air with your whole lungs, until they hurt. Until you feel the wind in the essence of your being. As soon as the workshop is ready, you find the ghost of your father inside every clink of metal, every grease stain.

That's why you do, what you do. That's why you hide the woman in your pocket, tug your skirts up, tie them to your belt, throw your hair out of your face. Your father's hands guide you, years spent looking over his shoulder marr your movements. It's not work anymore. It's a ceremony, a communion.

The Mississippi heat covers you with sweat, salty drops mixing with grease and motor oil, staining your skin. And as you wipe your face with a coarse rag, you entertain the thought, that this, here, is freedom. Your own, personal brand of freedom. Or at least some ghost of it.

That's how he first finds you.

Skin glistening under the warm lights, making you shine in his eyes. Your breasts exposed to a scandalous degree, your skirt hiked up so high, he sees the small stretch lines on your thighs. The sight makes his mouth water, literally. Such a wild thing, the sickly sweet scent of gasoline clinging to you, as you stretch on the little stool. A groan pushes past your lips, and he has to grip the doorway with his claws, to stop himself from pouncing. Even if he can't really do it, while you're in the safety of your workshop, he feels as if he'd be able to tear down any rules of ancient times, just to taste the nectar of your blood.

Then you start humming. Some unknown tune from far away, long ago. Your voice dripping like molasses, filling his ears with something, he was sure damnation took away. You move around the workshop, tidying up after yourself, legs strong like an ancient tree. A tantalizing image of skin, muscle and a jiggly layer of fat, that makes him want to sink his teeth in, over and over again.

Such temptation could not be ignored. Shouldn't be. It begged him to indulge, and who is he to deny the sweet embrace of sin?

"A woman with a wrench is such an uncommon sight these days" he starts, and skillfully dodges the aforementioned wrench, as it flies towards his head. "Now hold on there, darlin'..."

You spin around like a storm cloud, heart jumping into your throat, at the unfamiliar, male voice. He stands in the shadows, just out of reach for the outside lamp, leaning on the workshop's door frame. His face is barely visible, but you notice the paleness of his wrists, peaking at you from his front pockets. A sillhouette of a banjo on his back, tied with a frayed string, that's digging into his chest.

The world becomes quiet around you. Not a night bird, not a cricket. Just you, and him, and the increasingly fast beating of your heart.

"Who are you?" you demand, and the suspicion in your voice lets him know, he'll have to work for it "What are you doing here?"

Raising his hands in a mockery of a friendly gesture, he takes a slow step backwards, offering space. Your shoulders don't relax, hand creeping towards the folds of your skirt, where you hide a kitchen knife. One, you've never had to use, but God help you, you will.

"Apologies, darlin'. I didn't mean to startle you" he says, keeping his tone light, as if he's just an old friend, paying you a visit "I was walkin' down to the town, but I must've lost my way."

"Yeah, you must've." you eye him cautiously, the tartness of your voice making the corners of his mouth curl.

"Best get back on the road then."

He laughs sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck, as he swipes a look around the workplace.

"I saw the lights, figured there might be some good folks up in 'ere" he comes even closer to the door, lingering just outside, his well worn out boots kicking at the pebbles.

He makes a pitiful expression, as he looks up at you through his eyebrows, and for the first time, you can take a good look at his eyes. Blue, you think. But at the same time, strangely dark. It makes your eyebrows furrow, because despite your weariness, you can most certainly say, this stranger is a handsome one. With nicely toned arms, broad shoulders, and features that look warm in their softness, as well as dangerously sharp.

You don't like it. This strange impasse, that's seized your muscles. Like a deer stuck in the crosshair of a predator, it makes your skin crawl, and your insides tighten.

"No good folks here, just me." your voice is like a bell in his ears, slightly out of breath from all the work, and so, so dark.

The stranger laughs, and the sound sends an onslaught of shivers up your spine. Your fingers twitch nervously.

"See now, I find that hard to believe" the lightness in his tone starts to get to you, slithering under your skin like a snake "Surely such a sweet darlin' has some good in 'er"

God dammit, the way his head tilts to the side, as if trying to coax this mystical goodness out of you, chips away at your defenses. Your brain wrestles with your natural, tart disposition, and the facts presented before you. Here he stands, a respectful distance away, his hands in view. You don't see any weapon on him, but you see the sweat clinging to his dark hair. You see the dirt on his clothes, under his fingernails, the labored breathing he tries to conceal. He seems harmless enough, but looks can be decieving, and you'll be damned if a soft smile and a twinkling eye will be your downfall.

"You a travelin' musician or somethin'?"

He laughs, in pure delight. As if the notion is something he'd never consider, but he loves it either way. His laugh makes your cheeks tingle with warmth, and you curse yourself for such a strong reaction.

"Something like that..." he nods, eyes shining with mischief "I follow music 'ere I go."

With a defeated sigh, your shoulders slump, as you throw the dirty rag at the car.

"I'll get you some food and drink" you concede "Then, you can go on your merry way, yeah?"

"Yes Ma'am" he agrees immediately, his eyes following you, as you exit the workshop, sliding the door closed "D'you live here alone, darlin'?"

The question makes you remember the knife in your skirts, but you don't falter in your steps, as you make your way towards the front entrance to your house. It's not wise, running from a predator, if he indeed turns out to be one.

"That's none of your business, is it?"

"Fair enough" he nods, walking behind you, teetering the line of being much too close for comfort "Though it's a curious thing, don't you agree? A woman of your young age, alone in the woods. No ring on your finger either..."

He knows you're not alone. He smelled the other woman, felt the lazy drag of blood through her veins a mile away. But you don't need to know that, nuh huh.

Your right hand tightens into a fist on instinct, at his observation. Skipping the steps to the porch without an answer, you leave the door open for him.

But he doesn't enter, stopping right at the entrance, his shoulder leaning on the painted door frame, mirroring his stance from before. You shoot him a questioning glance over your shoulder, and once again, he scratches the back of his neck with a sigh. Such a boyish, shy gesture. Or a camouflage. You're undecided yet.

"Would be improper, to walk in without an invitation..." he explains, voice quiet, and almost timid.

Something tugs at the back of your mind. The story your cousin told you just hours ago, rings out like a sermon between your ears, and gooseflesh erupts all across your arms. Stupid. Utterly stupid and impossible, and yet... Your shoulders jump up, and down, in a nonchalant shrug, before you disappear into the kitchen. No use pondering over demons. The night is scary enough without them, and strange men can be worse than all the ghouls combined.

As soon, as you're out of sight, Remmick growls under his breath, finger scratching at the peeling paint on the entrance. He can smell you in the house, sweetness and musk, gasoline and cherry pie. Your heartbeat has calmed down significantly, but he knows, the cards he's been dealt are tricky to play. Good thing, he's a skilled gambler, and you've already extended a hand of hospitality. Already let him see a glimmer, of what's hidden under that hard shell. The sweetness of the fruit within, warmth like the sunlight he's been denied for so long. Your blood will be exquisite, he's sure of it. But before that...

There's a thrill like no other, when playing with one's food.

"There you go" you announce, slipping out of the kitchen, your clothes in proper place this time, obscuring the sight of your bare skin from him "Water and food, for your journey"

His eyes trail over your body, before landing on the glass in your hand, along with a package, wrapped in cloth. Another smile graces his features, this time however, he looks less like a shy farm boy, and more like a pleased man. All skin, and bone, and muscle. The transformation is quite jarring, and you have to blink a couple of times, not allowing yourself to be distracted, by the gentle shadows of his eyelashes on his cheeks.

"Thank you, lass" he answers, taking the water first, and downing it all in one go, causing a small laugh to rip through your lips, almost despite yourself.

"Forgive me, seems I'm more parched than I thought" he inclines his head, and you hand him the package.

This time, his fingers run the length of your palm, sweaty and rough, as they retrieve the offering, and your mind goes to some very unsightly places. His eyes trail up slowly to your face, and you swear, you can see his pupils shining, just for a split second.

Danger. The word climbs up your spine, takes root in your mind, as his tongue slips out to wet his chapped lips. Pink, and soft.

Don't let the monsters in, your cousin's voice follows you. But she didn't mention anything about letting the monster stay a while, right at the threshold. She didn't mention the shivers you feel, prickling at your skin under his inquisitive gaze. And she sure as shit didn't mention, how your breathing gets slower, deeper, when you recognize that traitorous need in the depths of his eyes.

It's been a while, since you've had a man, but you still remember, what it looks like, when you're wanted. When there's hunger crackling like fireworks between two people. And the hunger this stranger exudes, is nearly overwhelming, suffocating in the best way possible.

Time to end this, cut the weeds out, before they overpower all rational thought.

"You should get on your way" you say, and shiver at the way his eyes snap to your lips, drinking in their shape as you speak.

"Just one more thing..." he murmurs, low in his throat, so quiet, yet so unbelievably loud in the oppressive silence of the night.

This time you're the one wetting your lips, preparing yourself for something, although you're not sure for what. The air feels sticky, smooth like honey, passing between you and him. An intimate sort of exchange, that slowly, but surely, melts your insides. Makes you feel a bit lighter, as if your cousin's spirit has invaded your usual hardness.

Is this how it feels to be her? And if so, when will the first crash of thunder bring you down? Just like it brought her to the ground, again and again.

The man's eyes move back to yours, capturing your gaze and holding it hostage.

"A cigarette for the road?" his words are a whisper now, and you feel ashamed, at how long it takes you to register his words.

When you finally do, a single arch of your eyebrow makes his lips pull into a lazy smile. One that has no right working on you as much as it does. Alas...

"I saw you smoking in the workshop" he explains.

"...Ah..."

Your hand slips into your skirts, fingers brushing over the knife handle, and you take out a half empty pack. You offer it to him, and he reaches for the cigarette, his fingers sinfully elegant, as he presses it against his mouth, licking lightly at the tobacco. Something tightens low inside you at the movement of his pink tongue.

He's good. You'll give him that.

"I shall be off, then" he takes a slow step backwards, keeping his eyes on you, like he tries to pin you in place. "G'night, darlin'"

As soon as his boots hit the soft ground in front of your porch, your senses come back to you like a flood, as if some ancient spell has been lifted off your shoulders, and you straighten out with a sharp breath.

You don't know what compels you. What wild, unfamiliar force beckons you, but before you can stop yourself, you're calling out to him.

"Stranger!"

He twirls on his heel, like a dancer on a stage.

"What's your name?"

"Remmick" he answers, voice carrying through the night.

Then, he jumps up, dances a little jig that pushes clouds of dust into the air, and you can't help yourself. You laugh. A clear, honest sound, that surprises you in it's lightness.

Remmick bows, turns around, and walks into the shadows of the woods, leaving an indent in the shape of his curved smile in your brain.

"Remmick..." you repeat under your breath, before shaking your head at your own antics, and closing the door of your home.

The moon laughs at you as well, her light slipping into your room through a half open window. It's not a merry laugh however. It's a mournful, hopeless one, to which you are none the wiser, falling into dream-filled sleep. And as soon, as your eyelids close, as soon as your consciousness slips, a shadow rises from the earth, hanging over you like an executor's axe.

***

You awake in the early morning, sweat clinging to your feverish skin, your hand squeezed tightly between your thighs. You don't remember what dream has put you in this state of mess, but your limbs shake as you stand up, your heart beating right out of your chest. It's a little disappointing, really, you think to yourself, as you wash off the slick from your thighs, that you've become reduced to this so easily. Surely not because of last night's visit. You're stronger than this. Stronger than some wanton virgin, who's never felt a man before.

And yet, as you skip into the kitchen, and prepare for the day, you can't seem to shake the image of him from your brain. Like a sickness immune to all ointments, Remmick lingers under your skin, slithering and burning.

Your cousin joins you downstairs some time later, lured out of bed by the smell of freshly baked goods.

"Whooo! Baby!" she sighs, taking in the kitchen, her smile crinkling the corners of her eyes "You gonna sell these?"

The sluggishness with which you turn to her, makes you realize just how distracted you've truly been. Ridiculous. You're being ridiculous, and for what?

"Yeah" you nod, wiping flour off your hands into your apron "Gonna head to town in a bit. Sure you gonna be alright on your own?"

Your cousin rolls her eyes, and steals an apple from the fruit basket.

"I'm not a lil' kid no more" she tells you, like she's reminding you of homework, and it's your turn to roll your eyes at her.

Ain't you?, you wanna say, but you bite your tongue in time. She doesn't deserve your crudeness. So you cross the kitchen and peck her cheek affectionately. As if to make up for the thoughts, that are left unsaid.

"I know, I know. And you know where the shotgun is, in case trouble comes a knockin', yeah?" she nods once, with a resolute expression.

You recognize the irony in your words. Last night you practically invited a strange man into your home, just 'cause he smiled nice. In your stubborn refusal to admit your own transgression, you tell yourself, you'd shoot his ass to high heaven's, if he tried anything. Even if the notion rings hollow in your own brain.

"What's on your mind, cuz?"

Her voice drags you back to reality with harshness, and you take a sharp breath through your teeth. One, she immediately notices, her eyebrows scrunching into a frown.

"Nothin'." a weak lie, a pathetic one, really "Just... Ghost and Goblins"

Concern melts into a teasing smile, as your cousin starts packing up the still steaming bread.

"Ah..." she laughs, bright and airy "Some stranger in the night sunk his teeth into you?"

For a moment you watch her expression carefully, trying to decipher if she knows, if she heard. Even if she sleeps long and hard, like the dead. All you can see on her face, is a smile of someone proud of her stories taking root. Relief and guilt mix in your gut, and you have to look away, before you crack.

It doesn't matter. Nothing happened, and you'll never meet the smiling stranger again, so why do you feel so... What is it exactly that you're feeling? Disappointed? No, disappointment is for people like your cousin. For people who hope, who fly. Then what is it, biting at the back of your spine like a bloodsucking flea?

"I'll be back from town before you know it" your voice is quiet, dismissive, but she doesn't seem to hold it against you.

"Have fun" she calls after you. Then, silently, she adds "God knows you need it."

The road to town goes by smoothly, your truck jumping and bumping over stray stones. The bustle of the market welcomes you like an old friend, and just for a moment, you allow yourself to miss it. The people, filtering through the streets, laughing, talking, keeping friendly despite the underlying tensions in the air.

Your father would take you here often, while he was alive. He'd stand under the very same sign, you're lifting over your truck now, letting people come to him with business. You'd listen, like a diligent little student, soaking in the wisdom of the trade, helping him run books, count the money, catch conversations.

They all knew you here. From the very moment you've been old enough to stand on your own, you were part of something bigger, than just your family. Always your parents daughter, but so much more at the same time. And now... Now you're a ghost of your own choosing. Respected, liked even, but always on the outside, no longer part of something, but a welcomed guest nonetheless.

Bread goes out first, then sweet rolls and pies. You've been slaving away in the kitchen since the break of dawn, but as the sunset comes closer, you'd be damned it it wasn't worth it. Soon enough, your purse is filled, and you're packing your stand back into the truck, arms burning from work.

Wiping the sweat off your face, your neck, you make your way across the street, to the supplies store, where, as soon as the bell above rings, you're greeted by the owner. A woman, who could've been your peer, could've been a friend, if you were someone different. If you were your cousin, or at least, not a ghost.

"Look what the wind blew in." she leans on the counter, hair slipping out from under the scarf on her head "Haven't seen you in a while."

"You know me, always busy..." your eyes already scan the products, landing heavily on the prices.

She doesn't know you, though. You've never given her an opportunity to know you, and perhaps, that's why you always choose this shop. Perhaps, that's the only time you allow yourself to hope. That maybe this time, you'll be different, this time you'll let yourself be open. That's the reason you know, disappointment is for the hopeful.

"You got some flour for me?"

The shopkeeper nods, crosses the floor and jabs her foot into a couple of bags by the window.

"Got some milk too" she says "Hell, even some sugar, if you wanna"

To that you shake your head.

"I've got some sugar left still. And I'll pick up some eggs on the way back, from Ol' Johnson's farm"

A beat of silence.

"Oh? You haven't heard then?"

"Heard what?" you don't sound too interested, already pulling out a bunch of dollars and sliding them on the counter.

The shopkeeper walks over to you slowly, a solemn expression on her face, and that finally gives you a pause. The sun paints the inside of the shop a deep orange color, your neck tingling with heat and sweat, hair sticking to your skin.

"Ol' Johnson's dead. God rest his soul" the shopkeeper says, swiping a sign of the Cross over her heart, and you repeat the action, like it's second nature.

Coldness seeps through you, a strange sort of feeling, like there's something more hidden in the revelation. Some terrible truth just waiting to bury you. You swallow thickly, trying to ground yourself.

"What happened?"

Another moment of tension filled silence passes, as the shopkeeper takes a deep breath, eyes scrunching in sorrow.

"His wife came back from her family down South. People said she found him, dead and burning in the morning sun."

Cold turns to freezing in your bones, brain working overtime under your skull.

"They burned him?" you ask, mindful not to sound too curious, too insensitive.

"Sheriff said they killed him first, mangled the poor man beyond recognition."

"Jesus...." you sigh, trying, and failing to push away an image of the old man's face, scorched and bloody. "What about his widow?"

"She's staying at the Motel until they burry him. I think she'll head back South after, there ain't nothin' keeping her here anymore."

You nod solemnly at her words. A quick thought passes through you, a worry, where you'll get your eggs now. But you scold yourself hard in your mind for such heartlessness. This is not the time, nor the place for wondering about trivial matters. Not when a man's life has been snuffed out, and so brutally at that.

"The funeral's tomorrow, if you care" the shopkeeper's words snap you back from your cold thoughts, and you realize, that yes, you do care "We'll have a small thing for him at the Joint"

"Yeah..." you speak before you have the time to think on it "I'll be there."

She helps you load your groceries into your truck, a comfortable silence settling between the two of you, and once again, you wish things would've been different. Instead, you thank her with a dollar bill, and start the car on the road back to your home, where you're not alone, but solitude still awaits.

By the time you arrive, it's dark outside, the porch light guiding your steps. The house is quiet, your cousin asleep in her room, buried under heavy covers. You linger in her doorway for a moment, mind lost deep in thought, as you watch her peaceful form. Something tugs on your heart. Some undeniable feeling of sorrow, dragging your heart down to the wooden floors.

What you're mourning, you're not sure. But it brings a tear to your eye nonetheless, and your feet carry you outside, into the peaceful darkness, the crisp evening air. There, you can finally breathe, you can let the tears flow easily, without worrying about your sorrow staining the warmth inside.

Hands clutching your head, your shoulders shake in silent sobs, the heaviness, and the cold of today reaping it's spoils on your body. And you stay there, soil soaking up your tears greedily, until the steps of the porch creak loudly, tearing your heart straight from your chest.

You shoot up, turning your whole body so fast, you nearly collide with one of the pillars supporting the roof over the porch. Hand wraps around the handle of the knife, perpetually hidden in your skirts. And then you see him.

"Heaven's you startle easy, darlin'" Remmick raises his hands, giving you a sympathetic smile.

Here he sits, right at the porch step. The man you were sure you'd never see again, same clothes, same twinkle in his eye. He gazes at your tear stained face, with a calmness of someone who's seen more sadness, than you can comprehend.

"The hell you doin' here?" you try to demand, but your voice is still too shaky, and your hand too weak, to hold the knife any longer.

"Heard a bird sing in mourning" he answers, something warm slithering into his voice "Followed it's song all the way here."

You should be better than this. Stronger than this. Hell, you are stronger than this. But there's something so gentle in his presence, so different from the hunger you've felt the first time you've met. And your bones are tired, and your head is pounding, and God...

Slowly, like a wild animal learning to trust, you sit back down on the porch, a safe distance from him. But nothing can shield you from the warmth of his body next to you. From the unexplainable sense of calm, that floods your veins with every breath you take. And the night is so quiet, not a noise around you...

"I could sing you a song" he starts, and you scoff at the notion, a wet, broken sound "Something that would lull your pain to rest..."

"I don't need cheerin' up" you cut him off, and he smiles in a way, that makes you feel exposed like a bleeding wound.

You look down at your hands, woman's hands marred with signs of hard work. No longer soft and gentle, but trembling and covered with callouses. You're proud of them, of every scar and blemish, and you wish they were clean at the same time. You wish they were made for holding silk instead. At least just for tonight, in the dead silence.

"No" he murmurs "No you don't"

His eyes meet yours, when you risk a look in his direction, and what you find, makes your heart feel light as a feather, and heavy as a stone at the same time.

"Cheerin' doesn't bring anythin' for you, does it." he says it like it's a fact, like he knows you from within "You know the value of sufferin'."

God damn him, you think, new tears already stinging your eyes. He leans in, cold breath tickling your cheeks, and to your surprise, you don't run. You don't want to run. Not even a flinch passes you, when his fingers brush the stray hairs out your face, pushing the rest over your shoulder.

A small hiccup rips through your throat, because you never want to be touched. Never, until now, until him. Any other boy from town would already have his neck scuffed, for even daring to get this close. But this stranger, this man, this...

"Remmick..." you whisper, something wet and broken in your tone, something you haven't heard since your mother's funeral.

He hums, deep in his chest, as if he's pleased you remember his name. As if somehow, in this state of brokenness, he's the most proud of you. Your head ducks on instinct, when he moves closer, taking a long whiff of your hair.

"You know" he continues, low and intimate, his lips moving like the wings of a butterfly over your forehead "That tears can be sweeter, than any smile, any laughter.

Fingers pinch your chin, pulling your head up, until your glassy eyes meet his once again. For a moment, he searches your face, gaze drifting over your wet eyelashes, your trembling cheeks, your mouth opening and closing.

"Because tears are honest" he finishes, and a ragged sound of a gasp escapes through your teeth.

Your hand finds purchase on his chest, feeling the rough material of his shirt, the buttons hanging on a couple of flimsy threads. You could mend them for him, you could offer him food, drink, your bed, anything. If he'd only ask.

But he doesn't. Instead, his large hand presses gently over the flushed skin of your cheekbone, thumb running gently under your eye, gathering saltiness as it goes.

"Let me taste it, Sweetness" he whispers, pleading, his face leaning impossibly close "Let me taste your honesty."

His breath mingles with yours, and you can almost taste him on your tongue, so close, yet not close enough. Your fingers tighten on his chest, dragging the fabric beneath your nails, and finally he dips down.

But before you can feel him fully, before he drinks you like communion wine, your cousin's voice rings out throughout the house.

Heart jumping into your throat, you nearly rip yourself away from him, the spell of his honeyed words gone as quick, as it appeared. You stumble back on your feet, flushed and confused, gaping at him like a fish out of water. Something flashes through his expression, quick like a band of wild horses, but you catch it, you always do.

Perhaps, just a trick of the lights, something insignificant and unreal. But just like your cousin's stories, it lingers.

If tears are honest, then what do you call the sudden meanness in his eyes? The ghost of irritated anger, that pulls his mouth down, sets heavily over his brow?

Danger, you brain supplies again, and as your cousin calls out your name again, dread climbs up your back.

He repeats your name, so silent you can barely hear him, but even so, he looks victorious. Defeated, but victorious nonetheless, and your instincts kick in tenfold. The handle of the knife is cold in your grasp, a grounding weight against your hand. He doesn't move, just stares at you, expression of utter calm gracing his confusing features.

Now that's how a proper predator looks like. Half hidden under the shadows, his mouth open and panting, as if tasting the lingering scent of you from air alone. There's no tension in his figure, only steady confidence. He's gotten your name, he's almost gotten your trust, your honesty.

You wish you were stronger. You were taught to be stronger.

The front door creaks open, and you turn to push your cousin back inside, scream at her to stay back, stay where it's warm, and safe. Where the darkness won't catch her.

But just as she steps outside, her thin sleeping gown flowing around her form, your eyes flicker to the porch steps. And he's gone.

Not a trace of the strange man, of Remmick. Only the moon and utter silence.

"You're back" your cousin wraps her arms around your waist, tugging you inside "I fell asleep waitin', I'm sorry"

"No, I..." you try to respond, barely hearing your voice over the thundering sound of your own heart, eyes scanning the tree line, every shadow looking like him.

"You good? You look like you've seen a ghost"

Finally, she drags you over the threshold, closing the doors behind.

"You've been cryin'?"

"No it's just..." you swallow thickly, throat tight "Needed some fresh air, don't you worry your head about me"

Your cousin looks beyond skeptical, a strange reversal of your usual roles, but she doesn't push, God bless her soul. Instead, she kisses your forehead, wiping away the ghost of Remmicks lips, and at last, your shoulders relax.

"You work too hard, y'know" she murmurs, sleep still clinging to her "It's not good for the nerves"

You know exactly what's not good for your nerves, and it sure as shit isn't your work, but you can't say that. You can't reveal the true source of your frazzled state, if only to shield her from all the confusion. All the dread and longing, that's mixing dangerously in your gut. She's been through enough, and suddenly awave of fresh guilt crashes over you.

Carelessness is a sin, you never thought you'd commit. Yet here you are. God forgive you, because you cannot do it yourself.

***

Leaving the window open is your continuous mistake. One, which Remmick uses generously.

His body levitates in the cold air, unmoving like a hanged man's corpse, scraping his nails over the window frame. Stuck in perpetual stillness, the warmth of his breath fogs the glass. Two dots of red cut through the darkness, overpower the moon's cold light behind him. Like a shadow of death to come, his presence looms over your room, over your sleeping form.

You never sleep under covers. He noticed it a while back, when you didn't know him, when he still thought you were just a bag filled with blood. His for the taking, to sate his never ending thirst.

Now, he sees the bag has arms, that curve elegantly over the pillow. He notices the smoothness of skin, the delicate slope of your neck, where your blood sings a hymn just for him. Such a sweet thing, the ripest of fruits, just waiting to be devoured.

Later.

He has to remind himself to be patient, no matter how hard the pull of your saccharine scent calls to him. He needs you pliant, he wants you at your fullest. He wants love dripping from your fingertips like a fountain. Just so he can lap it up like a hungry dog.

For now, he satisfies himself with this image of you, splayed out on the covers. A ghost of a Babylonian queen, come to life in this abandoned neck of the woods.

Remmick takes a deep breath, humming to himself, as your scent fills every pore of his damned body. Dark and heavy, sweet on his tongue. He closes his eyes, nose pressing into the glass, teeth biting into his lower lip. What sweet torture this is. Being so close, yet so far away.

Makes the spoils all the more worth it, in the end.

***

Ol' Johnson was a good man.

He never took more, than he needed. Greeted everyone with a smile and a story, told in a voice roughened by years of smoking cheap tobbaco. He helped you, when you couldn't bring yourself to call on anyone, and kept helping you, until you've learned to accept it.

And now he's dead. And all you have to remember him by, are dwindling memories, and a glass of lukewarm whiskey in your hand.

The funeral service was a miserable affair. His crying widow nearly drowned out the sounds of the sermon with her sobs, and your heart broke for the poor woman, who lost everything in one night. She didn't look at you, when you offered her condolences, and you couldn't blame her. Tear stained eyes stayed fixed firmly on the wooden coffin, as they lowered her husband into the ground. And they didn't move an inch, when ground covered him forever.

She's a good woman too. Kind in a natural way, that seems to spread warmth wherever she goes. Always willing to give more, than what's expected of her. Now, the burden of being warm falls on the shoulders of the town. And they all take the mantle in stride, holding her through her grief, offering her comfort, that can only be found in community.

You don't fit in here anymore. Besides, who would want comfort from a ghost.

So you linger at the back of the Joint, sipping whiskey through your teeth, trying to remind yourself, that solitude is what you chose. You chose safety, you chose your cousin, your family. You can't regret that, you're simply not allowed to.

Soon enough, mourning of death becomes a celebration of life, as musicians take stage, and bodies filter onto the dance floor. Sweaty, greased with alcohol, and yearning for a moment of recklessness, they dance. And with every step, every twirl, every pull of the guitar strings, you feel Ol' Johnson's spirit. You feel every story, every helpful hand, every puff of cigarette smoke.

You can't stay still. Despite your promises, your responsibilities, you can't let his memory fade into a sad song. So you abandon your glass, your lonesome seat at the table, and you join in dance. You dance like you've never danced before, heels stomping on the wooden floor, sweat dripping down your face like tears would've. The music swells, and swells without stopping, and you're not stopping either. Not until your legs are burning, and your breath gets stuck in your throat.

Then, you're stumbling out the Joint, passing by the bouncer into the cold night's air. Where there's stars, and the endlessness of the skies. You want to keep dancing, even if your legs beg you to stop, even when you collide with the cool metal of your truck's door.

This is freedom. This is love. This is the only regret you have.

Digging out the keys from your purse, you eyes catch something in the dark. Two shining points, deep ahead of you. Your blood boils under your skin, a familiar feeling, which you keep forgetting ever day. Because you know this sight, deep within your bones, it settled a long time ago, a memory of something so terrible, your mind had to protect you from it. Had to keep forgetting. It can't protect you now however, and as the familiar spell of curiosity roots you into place, Remmick steps out of the shadows.

Moon paints his skin in glowing paleness, something otherworldly clinging to his every step.

No knife will help you now, you realize, as your back presses further into the cold side of your truck. And no one on the Joint will hear you, should you call for help. That's the price you pay for being a ghost. Music still plays inside, a quick tune that borrows it's rhythm from your feverish heart.

"You followin' me or somethin'?" voice cutting through the night, you feign confidence, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

Such a flimsy shield, one he'd tear without even trying. But he stops, a safe distance from you, his palms raised high in a placating gesture you know too well. There's not a trace of that alarming meanness from the night before, a lazy smile gracing his features instead.

"I told you" he starts, tone light and friendly, like before "I follow music, that's all"

God, you wish you could believe him.

"This here a Juke Joint?" he asks, and once again, suspicion rears it's ugly head in your gut.

"Ain't you a traveling musician? You should know where to play"

He laughs, sheepishly. Although you're more and more convinced, it's a wolf laughing underneath sheep's hide. You can't shake the image of his face, twisted in anger, the two red dots hanging in air, just where his eyes could've been.

"Folks wouldn't let me in" he shrugs, and you notice the considerable lack of the guitar on his back "A private celebration I think."

"A wake." you cut swiftly.

"Ah..."

He doesn't ask who died. You would've found it strange, if you didn't know. You don't want to know, fighting that awful feeling of your guts churning in premonition. But you do, and despite that, you can't run. Still, after all the dots connecting in your mind, you can't run from him, his shining eyes and his curling smile.

Remmick comes closer, measured step after another, as if he's approaching some feral little animal, thrashing in the hunter's binds. Or a killer, that's found an easy victim. Your blood runs cold in your veins, gooseflesh covering your skin. Still, he doesn't snap his jaws, not yet.

"You dance mighty fine, darlin'." the comment doesn't even sound like a flirtation, just a pure, bare bones fact "Saw you through the window, twirlin' and stompin'."

He doesn't wait for your reply, reaching into the pocket of his trousers, and pulling out a cigarette case. You recognize the design despite the darkness, and your throat tightens, until you can't breathe properly. God forgive you, you've almost let a killer into your home. Would've let him into your heart, if he'd ask.

"Where'd you get that?" there's a tremble in your voice, one, that puts an edge to his easygoing smile.

"My Daddy gave it to me, for the long road ahead."

Lies come like second nature to him, leaving his lips dripping with honey. Once again, he licks at the end of the cigarette, eyes flickering up to meet yours.

"My friend had one exactly like that" you note, still trying to cling onto some semblance of hope.

Alas, hope only breeds disappointment, you know that too well.

A slender flame from the lighter flickers in his pupils, as he lights the cigarette, taking a long drag of smoke.

"Maybe we've got the same Daddy" he muses, clouds of white slipping past his teeth.

You'd laugh, if you were light as a feather.

Another drag of the cigarette, and Remmick closes the distance between the two of you, standing foot to foot. Your body fails you, at this crucial moment, because all you can do is watch him, eyes wide, stuck between pleading and anger.

"What are you?" the question leaves you, before you can catch it, and the man before you sighs, shaking his head.

"Told ya'. Travellin' musician"

Your mouth opens, but he's quicker, flicking the cigarette to the side, and grabbing ahold of the back of your neck. You grab at his wrist, but don't go any further. His hold is gentle, despite everything you'd anticipate, and he leans his head towards your ear, like a lover whispering a secret.

"Shhh..." he shushes you quietly, cold breath tickling your feverish skin "I've already decided I'll help you."

Confusion overrides any rational feeling, and your hands slip to the coarse fabric of his well worn shirt. The buttons are still barely hanging, but now you'd rather be caught dead, than mend them. Hell, you probably will be. Something mean and dark rises in your throat, pushing past your teeth with a hiss of a venomous snake.

"I don't need savin- ah!"

A small, surprised moan tears it's way through your throat, as Remmick runs his tongue over the delicate spot behind your ear. His fingers bury themselves into your hair, gently massaging it in a way, that is almost grotesquely delicate. You can feel his mouth, running the length of your jaw, up your cheek, where he presses delicate kisses. The tip of your nose is next, then the softness under your eyes, the wrinkle of conflicting emotions between your eyebrows.

"C'mon darlin'." he whispers into your hairline "Won't you let this sinner in?"

Once again, he doesn't leave time for you to reply, diving down towards your lips, taking them into a slow kiss, that makes your insides flutter. You should hate yourself for the way you're not pushing him away, for the way you chase his mouth with your own, when he pulls back for just a second.

You should hate him for everything, but most importantly for the moan he gives out, when his tongue slips into your mouth. Such a beautiful sound, it shakes every bone in your body, makes your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt.

He tastes of iron, an unmistakable bloody residue, but it's so sweet on your tongue, you can't seem to care. Like poison attacking your senses, you let yourself be carried away, mind going deliciously blank. His hand still continues to coax you with the gentle movements of his fingers in your hair. While the other takes it's fill of your body, warm palm pressing against your waist, your hip, pushing the silken dress up your thigh.

Then it moves higher, until he's grasping at your heart through the plush flesh of your breast, and this time you're the one moaning. His thumb brushes over your hardening nipple, pulling another sound from you, like he's playing a fiddle.

Heat rises within you like the tide, every touch, every caress building up a storm of want. Soon, it doesn't matter anymore, that he's surely the monster from your cousin's stories, because he kisses like an angel.

His mouth leaves yours, a sticky mess of saliva that should disgust you, but God, you've never tasted anything sweeter. Once more, he attaches himself to your neck, kissing it with fervor, broken sounds escaping him, like a starved dog feasting for the first time in months. His hand palms at your breast one last time, before reaching back, and soon enough you hear the click of your truck's door.

There's no time for questions, for concern. Not when the need runs so deep, and begs to be satiated. He pushes your body inside, splays you out on the back seat, amongst old blankets and empty bags of flour. Your thighs fall apart, to accommodate him, when he climbs over your body, like he can't bear being away from it even for a second.

"The door..." you pant out, against the hunger of his lips.

"No one will see us" he huffs into your shoulder, and the utmost certainty in his voice makes you believe him.

This time it's your hands doing the massaging, as you grip the black strands of his hair, trying to bring him closer. Trying to morph the Devil himself into your body. He hikes your leg up, over his waist in response, and you can feel with damning clarity, his burning hardness pressing against the flimsy cotton of your underwear.

You want him inside so bad, it's nearly breaking you apart.

"Too damned sweet..." he murmurs into the running pulse of your neck, and your entire body freezes, when he teases the place with surprisingly sharp teeth.

"...no..."

It's a quiet, barely audible whisper, but he straightens himself on his arms, hovering above you with a questioning look on his flushed face.

"No biting..." you repeat, louder this time, your heaving chest brushing over his "No pain. I don't wanna hurt tonight."

A blink, a gasp, and Remmick morphs between your very eyes. His expression turns into something so gentle, so caring, you're sure a man like him shouldn't be able to look like that. He takes a deep breath through his mouth, a broken sound emanating from deep within his chest. And then, he kisses you again. Slow, intimate, until your head is spinning.

"The things you do to me, woman" he whispers into your mouth, and starts to crawl lower.

His tongue laps at your collarbone, lips sucking into the skin of your sternum. Your body arches off the seat, as he dips into your cleavage, letting your breasts spill out the top of your dress. He kisses them, like they're more than just a body part. It feels sacred, feels like a prayer in a language you don't fully understand.

Another series of kisses over the fabric covering your stomach, and soon enough, he's making a home for himself between your thighs. Your body starts to shake in anticipation, half lidded eyes following the movements of his dark haired head, as he leaves wet kisses on the inside of your thighs.

"Christ Almighty..." he groans, as his thumb runs over the wet patch steadily forming on your underwear "Like Heaven's Gates opening for me"

Your hips buck in a stuttering motion, as he puts his mouth over the cotton, tongue lapping at the fabric in a promise of things to come.

"Knew you'd be sweet" he comments, voice dipping down so low, you can feel it in your insides.

Then, your legs get thrown over his shoulders, and before you have time to adjust, he pushes your undergarments to the side, and nearly drowns his face in your cunt.

The sound you make is nothing short of scandalous, as he begins to lap at you, greedily soaking in the very essence of your being. His tongue finds your clit faster, than any man before, and as his mouth close over the pulsing bundle of nerves, you throw your head back.

He's good, so good in fact, that your stomach begins to tighten in seconds. Your hands flail at your sides, nails scraping over the backseat, over your dress, his scalp. You don't know what to do with your body, completely surrendering to the ancient magic, he pulls from you with every drag of his tongue.

And God, the sounds he makes. You've never met someone so vocal, so utterly devoted to drinking every last drop you have to offer. Soon enough, your thighs start to shake, the pressure building inside you reaching levels you never thought possible. And he doesn't stop, not even for a moment, licking, sucking, flicking his tongue until your voice becomes hoarse.

"Remmick..." you mewl.

The sound of his name feels right, leaving your lips, feels like truth. Like that mythical honesty, he wanted to taste in your tears.

His grip on your body tightens, and it's as if he's been possessed by some demon of desire. You can feel his face pressing closer, deeper into you, and that's the final straw. Stars erupt in your vision, as you come, hard and fast, earth shattering around you. Body nearly flying off the car seat, your breath gets punched out of your lungs with the force of the most delicious of sensations.

Remmick seems almost reluctant to part with your cunt, licking at the swollen flesh, until your hand slaps him away, too sensitive for any more attention. His face is glistening in the pale moonlight, and his sinful tongue cleans everything with an almost inhuman groan.

"You're heaven, mo ghrà" his voice breaks "You're sunlight incarnate"

There's devotion like nothing you've heard before in his tone, and if you weren't so completely wrecked, you would've blushed. Instead, you reach for him, and he obeys, coming back up, until you can kiss him again.

His arms sneak around your waist, pulling you up into an embrace, and your boneless body let's him do what he likes. Let's him settle you into his lap, legs nestling on both sides of his thighs. Forever greedy, he ruts into your twitching core, and you're cruelly reminded about just how empty you feel.

"You'll never be alone" he whispers, voice muffled by the skin of your chest "You'll never be forsaken, not while I walk this earth."

Something in the way he says that, makes your spine tingle with a dreadful sort of shiver. But there's comfort in his words, enough of it, for you to throw caution to the wind, and reach for the button of his trousers with shaky hands.

You'll worry later. For now, you want him to make you forget what worrying even looks like.

And as if reading your thoughts, he obliges, pushing your hands away, to do the work himself. His trousers fall open, and he frees himself with a choked groan. His cock rests on your lower stomach, hot and ready, smearing drops of precum over your skin. Your muscles tighten in anticipation, hands squeezing his shoulders.

"My girl" he murmurs "My sweet girl, let me in"

All you can do, is nod.

Remmick lifts you up, as if you weight nothing, positioning you just right, before he slowly lowers you onto him. Your combined groans fill the silence of the truck, as you stretch around him. He's gentle, letting you adjust before pushing into you a bit further, until he's buried to the hilt in your heat. His head falls back against the headboard, hands roaming your body. You can see the treacherous light in his eyes, now, finally a tangible truth, rather than a figment of your dreams.

It doesn't scare you though, nothing scares you now. Not when he fills you up so completely, you feel like you belong for the first time in years. This moment of stillness, of silence interrupted only by laboured breathing, doesn't last long.

Nails digging into the bottom of your thighs, he rocks you in a steady, almost languid rhythm. You flutter around him, small gasps of pleasure leaving your lips, and that familiar pressure introduces itself once again. He speeds up, guiding your hips in an up and down motion, that soon makes your teeth clink together.

"That's right... God in Heaven... So warm... Mmmmm..." his voice flows between murmurs, groans and whispers, every word making your insides twitch, making your eyes flutter.

"Take me in... Good... Deeper..."

You can feel him, pressing into your bones, nestling into the deepest parts of your soul, and with every ragged moan he breathes, something close to sweet affection blossoms inside you. Honey and milk, they drip from your fingertips, as you caress his face, contorted in a beautiful image of pleasure. You could love that face. You won't, but Heaven's above, you could.

"Christ" he chokes out, hips bucking off the seat "My sweet girl, mo ghr- ah..."

The sound of his voice alone makes you come again, lighter, but no less pleasurable. And as you tighten around him, a choked sound leaves his throat. His arms encircle you whole, pushing himself so close, he might as well find home in your chest cavity. Soon, his movements stutter, face hidden in your shoulder, breathing in the scent of your hair, and with a last, decisive thrust, he spills himself inside you.

Bodies covered in sweat, you both shake in each other's arms, for a small, blissful moment being completely alone, shielded from the world. Remmick holds you, like you're his only hope, mouthing gently at the skin of your throat, whispering things you barely comprehend. Prayers, that are marked by something ancient, older than the trees and the rivers. Worship, that flows like blood from a wound.

"Thabharfainn fuil mo chroí dui..."

You want to whisper back, but there are no words, that could compare to his. So you do the next best thing, running your fingers through his hair, tracing circles into his back, mapping his features with delicate kisses. He basks in the affection, eyes fluttering closed, a familiar twitch of renewed desire stirring your insides. Your thumb brushes over his bottom lip, still wet with whatever mixture of fluids, and he parts his mouth under your touch.

And that's when it all comes shattering down.

Because hidden beneath the chapped softness, are teeth that don't belong to a human. Sharp, pointed angrily, perfect for tearing at flesh.

Remmick hums in his throat, feeling the way your body seizes with dread, and as his eyes slowly open, you're met with another damning sight.

Those aren't human eyes either. They shine at you, reflecting moonlight in a haze of red that makes your skin crawl.

People who dare to hope, are the one's crushed by disappointment. How dare you forget that?

"It all makes sense now, doesn't it?" he asks in a low voice, all traces of gentleness gone in an instance "The nightly visits, the quiet in the woods..."

His finger traces a line from between your breasts, up to your bobbing throat.

"The pull you feel, even now." a slow roll of his hips makes you choke on air.

Remmick's smile turns cruel. There's no denying, what you're seeing, and it's no longer the man you almost could've loved. It's not a man at all, but a monster your cousin's stories warned you about. Things you believed to be impossible, come to life before your very eyes.

"What are you?" your voice breaks, and he smiles, as if the question has become some sort of a joke shared between the two of you.

"How about I make you a deal?"

You've never noticed, how sharp his nails are, not until they drag back down your throat. Gentle enough not to break skin, but brutal enough to leave imprints in their wake.

"I'll race you back to your house, and if you get there first, I'll leave you two be."

Dread turns your blood into ice, and all you can do, is stare in shock, as Remmick lifts you off his lap. His cock slides out of you languidly, and for the first time, since you've met him, you feel disgust. At him, at yourself, at the whole waking world.

He brushes your sweaty hair out of your forehead, claws dragging over your face as he does so. Then, a quick press of his lips to your temple, and you shiver in your spot.

"Be quick" he instructs in a tone that is entirely too cheerful, before he shoots you a wink, and climbs out of the truck.

Three seconds, that's all you need, before you realize the severity, the absolute hopelessness of your situation. And as you scramble to the passenger side of the truck, thighs sticky with evidence of your misplaced affection, all you can see is your cousin's smiling face.

***

The door to your home slams against the wall, when you stumble inside, feet barely catching up with your panicked movements.

You scream her name through the halls, pathetic and desperate. Silence greets you, not a sound to be heard, and as tears spring from your eyes, you sprint towards the stairs. You climb the steps, hunched over like a wild animal, adrenaline pushing your every movement. And then, with the entirety of your body weight, you slam into the door of your cousin's bedroom.

You can smell the blood, before you see it. A stench so profound, you'll never be able to get rid of it.

And then, a scene so terrifying, so profoundly heartbreaking unfolds before your very eyes.

Remmick stands in the middle of the room, hands folded casually behind him. His jaw clenched tightly over your cousin's throat, her lifeless body half hanging from the bed. There's blood on the floor, on the walls, on the sheer dress she wore to bed. And then, red eyes find you.

Your cousin's form falls onto the floor with a sickening, wet sound, as Remmick let's her go, licking her blood from his gums, his chin.

"Now I understand..." he claps his hands lightly, and once again, you can't move, frozen to your spot, eyes glued to the heap of fabric and flesh, that was once your family "Why you've kept her hidden, like a princess locked in a tower."

His boots leave bloody prints on the wooden floor, as he steps closer to you, crossing the bedroom in long strides.

"There's no worse thing, than a cruel man. Not for a woman like her."

You can't look away from her. Not even, when Remmick's hand covers the side of your face, his thumb brushing the underside of your jaw in a gentle caress.

"I can see it all now, y'know" he murmurs "All her memories are mine. I know what a bastard her husband was. It's no wonder she ran away."

Another step closer, and his other hand finds the softness of your stomach, sharp nails scratching gently over the delicate fabric of your rumpled dress. You can still feel him, a dull ache between your legs, a stickiness of your bodies joined together.

What a damned fool you are.

"And you took care of her so loyally" he continues, a hint of admiration entering his words "Sacrificed so much... But not anymore."

Finally, you dare to look up, and he sighs in delight, as tears fall on your cheeks.

"I promised you" a whisper, a cold breath against your skin "No more alone, no more forsaken"

His lips kiss away the saltiness, with gentleness so unbefitting his monstrous nature, it makes your breath lock itself in the column of your throat.

"There's only love in your future, mo ghrà. Only love."

The bundle of fabric moves. A jerky sort of motion, and your eyes snap behind his back, as your cousin's hand jumps against the bloodied floorboards. Remmick let's you go without a fight, and you stumble on your feet, falling to your knees, next to the slowly awakening corpse of your cousin.

Her name is a prayer on your lips. You're begging for the impossible, you're aware of that, but she moves nonetheless, lifting her face.

"Hey cuz." she croaks, the wound in her throat moving as she speaks "It's all gonna be alright now."

It's a fate worse than death, seeing the unnatural, golden shine in her eyes. The monstrous, sharpened teeth peaking from behind her smiling lips. You reel back from her, vision blurry from all the tears. She follows you, on her fours, as if she's forgotten what it means to walk.

"I know it's scary" she stands up, blood dripping from her dress, her mangled body "I was scared too. But now... Now it's all bliss. It's all love."

Your heart breaks into a million scattered pieces, dread and pain nearly knocking you off your feet. But you keep backing away, until you stop at the very top of the stairs, swaying in your sorrow.

"You did so much for me" you cousin closes the distance, drool slipping out her mouth, mixing with crimson on her chin "Let me repay you, let me give you a better life."

It's only as she reaches for you, fingers digging into your shoulders, teeth bared and ready to bite, do you react. A sharp yell rips through your throat, and you don't think anymore, that primal instinct of survival taking root. The world becomes a mess of limbs and screams, and soon it all spins around you. Wood of the railing breaks under your weight, when your cousin slams you into it, blood of your blood sends you flying. Your fingers grip her nightgown in a death grip however, and the both of you crash to the floor below, with a thunderous crack, that carries through the entire house.

For a moment you can't breathe, your vision going black as night. Then, everything spins, but you don't feel any teeth, any claws. Just waves of pain crashing over your back.

You will never forget the next sound. It will haunt you through your life, turn every dream into a nightmare. The broken, ragged intake of breath on your left.

"Cuz..."

Your head turns, and there she is. The dreamer, the flying dove, her chest split open by a stray piece of wood, blood spilling out her mouth like a fountain.

"...no..."

Despite the blinding pain in your back, you rise to your knees, falling over her, hands trembling and for the first time, you're at a loss. What can one do in this situation? How can you fix this?

"No, no, no, no" your cousin's body twitches, her eyes growing more and more glassy with every ticking second "Please, God... Help..."

But there's no God in this house, not anymore. He's been casted out, with your cousin's last breath, and so, as desperation shakes your being, you call out to the only other option. The only way that's in the cards for you, until you too leave this earth.

"Remmick, help me!" it's hypnotizing in it's irony, you calling out to him, begging him.

He stands behind you, watching your shaking shoulders. Watching those fascinating, calloused fingers rip out hairs from your scalp. He knows, somewhere deep inside his rotten, ancient heart, that he would help you. He'd come acrawling for just one word.

He also knows, you've been crying over a corpse, as soon as wood pierced your cousin's heart.

And so, he lingers, a silent statue in a house, that was once a home. Like a pillar of marble, devoid of guilt, of heartbreak, stirred to life only by the misplaced fondness for a woman, who dared to hope in his presence.

Time ticks by, your sobs turning into heaving breaths, which soon fade, leaving silence in their wake. That's when he finally makes a move, bloodied soles of his boots dragging closer, until your abused back leans against his side. It's a small touch, but for him, it means more, than any before.

There's no more strength in you, no more fight. Like a block of clay, begging to be shaped into a masterpiece, you surrender.

And it's all he's ever wanted. So then why...?

"Leave this place" his voice sounds foreign, even to his own ears "Go far, far away. And live."

You don't even lift your head, don't look at him, but he knows you listen, he knows you understand. A brush of cold lips against the gentle curvature at the back of your neck. There's no shivers, but your heart stutters, that's all he needs.

"A gift for you, mo cuishle"

***

A month later you're standing on the platform, nails drumming anxiously on the leather surface of your baggage.

You're going far away, like he's told you, leaving behind the town, Ol' Johnsons abandoned home, the shopkeeper's smile, and the ghosts haunting the small house in the middle of the woods.

And life goes on. You find your place in a shop of your own, in the middle of a town, that's buzzing with life. You put your talents to good use, and soon, people remember your name. They wave at you as you pass, they visit your shop, and talk to you, as if you've lived here from childhood.

You make friends, good ones, that last through thick and thin. And despite waking up every night, covered in sweat, with the haunting images of that fateful midnight flashing behind your eyes, you're happy. You find lightness in your step, in your mind. You cradle the community within your calloused palms, and let them cradle you in turn.

So, when the new Juke Joint opens, you don't think twice, about letting your dearest friend, Pearline, drag you with her. For a night full of drinkin', dancin', and cheerin'.

#my writing #remmick #remmick x reader #sinners movie #remmick x you #sinners 2025 #remmick fanfic #it's not often someone makes a perfect movie but let me tell yall this is it #our man of the hour is almost pathetically tender in this one but we're still talking about a horror movie so yknow

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tokoyamisstuff · 3 months ago

Text

Delicate

Sinister! Mark x GN!Regenerator! Reader

A/N: After -> this <- post by @kikiiguess, thanks for matching my freak on a catastrophic level!

⚠️Contains Comic Spoilers⚠️

18+ disturbing content

Synopsis: After escaping from the wasteland dimension, Mark has developed a concerning appetite... Warnings: angst, blood, injury, hurt/comfort, masochism, literal cannibalism, this is oddly sexual charged

It was way past midnight when you woke up finding the bedplace next to yours empty once again, starting to wander the barely illuminated hallways in search for your lover.

A few days prior he had finally returned to your dimension after weeks of absence - yet what exactly happened or how he was even able to find his way back remained a mystery.

All you were sure of is that he had returned a shell of his former self, completely driven by inferior instincts.

From what you could understand of the scraps of information he provided in between demented nonsense, Mark and several of his alters got stranded in a dead universe, with no access to food or water...

...so naturally, as time passed and their hopes of rescue were dwindling, their last option was to start eliminating each other in their desparation for survival.

Truth be told, you were almost 100% sure it was your Mark that made them all turn on each other in the first place.

You've had it all with this man, so you were confident to say it was definelty in his range of possibilities - though this was a new low, even for him.

Damn it, how many times did you tell him to not trust Angstom of all people?! He had been a pain in the ass in your dimension, and now you found out the hard way that goes for this one as well.

But sadly your boyfriend was a fatal combination of both greedy and bored - so being able to expand his empire across the multiverse seemed like just the kind of diversion he needed.

Maybe you if you had been more assertive, then none of this would've happened...

Not much later you finally run into him, hunched over the corpse of your comrade and holding a severed limb as his teeth scraped off the flesh. Witnessing carnage of this extent wasn't really new for either of you, but the context made it just so much more gruesome.

Ever since he came back he's nothing short of instable, however not in the way you were used to. It had always been subtle, well hidden behind a charming facade and skilled manipulation tactics.

There had been method to his madness up until now, but the isolation and sheer hopelessnes of his situation made the last remnant of his sanity slip away like sand between his fingers.

At times his mind conjures voices and other hallucinations, making him even more paranoid than usually. And more often than not he thinks that he's still trapped in that very same wasteland dimension. Well, back then his only solace was imagining himself back home by your side, and now it had become impossible for him to differentiate...

...not to mention, he seems to be plaqued by an aching hunger that can never be quenched.

The doctors claimed it was psychosomatic, caused by the trauma, and that he will most likely adjust to normal food again...

...and yet he hasn't gotten any better, no matter what you tried.

"Want some?" Mark's voice cut through the silence like shards of glass, and you shot him a both disappointed and sympathetic look before shaking your head. "Thanks, I'll pass..."

"I was just so hungry, you know?" You hear a bone creaking as he munches on it, and you feel like throwing up. "Always hungry...it never goes away..."

As much as it pained you to see him this way, in the end you prefer to have him like this than not at all.

Finding him here was no coincidence, surely. He always deliberately fled from your side, whenever this vile urge became too overwhelming. Harming you - the one and only person he evidently cared for - was out of the question.

The old Mark was still hidden somewhere in this delirious menace, you were sure of it...

...you just needed to find a way to lure him out.

"Come" you whisper softly, understandingly, yet also cautious - like you were trying to appease an unpredictable beast that could lash out without warning shall you make one wrong movement. "Let's go to bed."

For a split second a panicked aggression flared up in his eyes, although he didn't act upon the impulse he developed to ensure his survival. He mustered your outstreched hand suspiciously, as if not quite knowing what to do with it, but after a while of whatever his disturbed mind was contemplating, he accepted your offer.

You mutely led him the way back to your shared chambers, with him leaving a trail of blood from the carnage left behind. That's a problem for tomorrow you - or preferably someone else - to clean up.

Right now all that counts is being there for the man that would- no, has conquered entire civilizations in your name.

You owe this to him!

There was no use trying to reason with him about getting cleaned up, so you gently guided him onto the mattress and climbed in right after. Blood from his clothes, hair and skin was soaked into the sheets, drying into a deep shade of crimson. He was entirely covered in it, mixed with his own saliva as it dripped down his chin.

You cradled his face into your hands, pecking a kiss on the bridge of his nose before smearing the proof of his earlier slaughter into nothing but a fading red.

"I didn't plan to be last, I swear..." your boyfriend uttered as he wrapped his arms around your middle, his scruffy beard tickling the crook of your neck. "It just continued not to be me. Maybe I don't look tasty? I don't want to not look tasty..."

You let out a shuddered breath, continuing to let your fingers comb through his messy hair but getting tangled in the dried blood. "I'm just glad to have you back."

Mark had always cursed himself for being so pathetically attached to you. He never intended to fall in love, downright refused this foreign feeling long before he even understood them.

After having spent his whole life in solitude, indifferent to anything 'normal' people seemed to value, he convinced himself that it was actually a sign of superiority.

...and then he met you.

A plaything, a pastime at first.

Back then the GDA had messed with the pain center of your brain, so you'd be more effective in battle. After all, regeneration isn't helpful if you feel every single hit, especially after getting severely injured.

However those experiments came at a price - it caused the side-effect of mistaking pain for pleasure instead.

That's what makes the two of you such a great match: You can basically never break under the weight of what it means to be a sadistic sociopath's spouse. With you he can go all out, implement his dominating power without any consequences.

Who would've thought that the first battle he would ever lose was the one with his own heart?

In a certain way, that other dimension was better. Easier. Absent of any irrational social rules or confusing emotions he couldn't get behind. It was survival of the fittest - a concept he as one of the strongest beings in the universe was very fond of.

Back there, his lack of empathy wasn't consiered monstrous there - it was an advantage. Finally a reassurance that he wasn't broken or wrong.

He was the one that made it out alive, after all.

"How-" Mark's voice is raspy, wild eyes boring into your skull as his fingers tentatively wrapped around your neck. "How do I know this is real? Have you ever been real?!"

You were oddly calm despite being at a madman's mercy, but frankly you were used to it. He increases the pressure on your windpipe just enough to be uncomfortable, but you can feel the barely contained violence behind his grip.

Why didn't you think of this earlier? The solution is so obvious!

"...take from me and find out."

"...no." Mark's voice is firm in a brief moment of clarity. "No" he repeats, "I can't-"

"Why not?" You ask, tone almost offended that he'd reject your generous offer. If he wasn't currently slightly out of mind himself, he would've definetly called you out on this ridiculous behavior.

But his answer stands. There's lines even he does not cross, at least when it came to you. Hypocrite.

"Your folk has less than 50 pure-blooded Viltrumites left, and you just eviscerated one of them...but me? I can take it, I swear."

Your boyfriend had always shared the Viltrumite mindset that humans - except for certain individuals like you were one - are inferior creatures, not much different from cattle or vermin even. Many times he had hunted them for the sheer fun of it...

...but now he didn't even stop at his own people. If he continues, the Viltrumites will eventually turn against him no matter his royal heritage.

Things can't go on like this.

Maybe it's time for more drastic measurements.

"Stop being stubborn" you coo, invitingly batting your lashes but he shuts you up with a glare.

"No, you stop!" He rubs his face frantically, attempting to become at least somewhat clear-headed again. "Even your regeneration has limits. What if I-"

"You won't." Without hesitation, you dig your nails into your forearm, deeply enough to break the skin.

The sheer sight of it leaves him utterly conflicted, exasperated as he's sure once he gives in, he might not be able to stop himself. You see it in the way his hands tremble, barely hovering over your body, and his jaw clenching so hard that you hear his teeth crack.

You dare to cup his cheek, pouring all of your affection into the smile you gift him alongsdes with the essence of your very self. "I love you, Mark. And...I trust you with my life."

"Shit...why are you doing this to me...?" Mark carefully takes ahold of your wrist and brings it to his mouth, lips slightly parted as the intoxicating scent of your blood drings to his nostrils.

It's not the first time, and by far not the last.

Initially he's only licking across the wound, incredibly mellow as if he only wanted to clean it...

...but when the liquid finally graces his dry throat, he lets out a low growl and immediately straddles your waist, pouncing on you like a starved animal. He rips apart your sleeping shirt and lets his canines sink deeply into your exposed shoulder, tearing off the first layer of tissue.

You fail to suppress almost inaudible moans escaping your throat, having the love of your life causing you such delightful pain being almost too much to handle. And when his keen senses make him aware of your reaction, it only spurs him to go further.

"Ohhh..." he almost groans in pure ecstasy, ferociously covering your body in bites and craters of missing flesh. "You like that, huh? Nasty thing."

Mark's hands explore every inch of your body alongsides his mouth, the uncertainty of whether his next move will be mending or hurtful only adding to your excitement. He observes you intently, pupils blown wide by this sheer addicting deed.

His tongue forces your mouth open, the metallic taste of your own blood invading your senses. He can feel your pulse spiking up, as if that feeble little heart of yours wanted to remind him it knows exactly who it belongs to.

Good.

The others tasted so fucking disgusting. But you...

"Fuck" he panted against your skin, drunk on the feeling of having your mind and body submit to him so easily. "So fucking perfect...taking it all so good...it's like you were made just for me..."

Finally he could be as close to you as he deep inside always dreamt to be, and you were enjoying this twisted kind of love.

Part of you is now incorporated in him forever. Poetic.

After what felt like both an eternity and a flash of time, your boyfriend kissed a spot that had just healed for the last time, licking his lips in satisfaction and pulling away.

At long last, he was satiated.

Sitting up, Mark was practically beaming at you, with a look like you had hung the moon just for him. "Damn, babe" he cackles, the metaphorical fog around his soul finally lifting. "You're a freak, you know that?"

"Takes one to know one." You roll your eyes with a wide grin on your face, and the endearing sight makes him crash his lips over yours once again, sighing contently into your mouth.

Before you knew it, your boyfriend began trailing more sensual kisses across your body - from your neck down to your collarbone, chest and finally down your navel, making you shiver the further he descended.

A wolfish smile is playing on his lips as he settles between your legs, his teeth softly nipping into your thigh, mischievous eyes never leaving yours.

"Hope you're ready for dessert..."

#what has unrestrained internet acces done to me?#anyways #invincible #mark grayson #sinister mark #invincible x reader #mark grayson x reader #sinister mark x reader #fanfiction #oneshot #writing #reader insert #cw cannibalism #invincible s3 #invincible comic #invincible spoilers

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buckysslut · 2 months ago

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hi! i’ve been reading you’re stuff all day bro 😭 you’re so talented!!

anywaysss, can i ask for munch! bucky? i will forever die on the hill that that man EATS downnn

thank youu! - 🧚🏼‍♀️

𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡!𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲

Nowhere is safe from Bucky’s munch activities.

𝐁𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦

You were curled up in bed, reading your book. Bucky was laying on his side down by your stomach, absentmindedly stroking your skin as he rested his head on your side. That’s until his touches began to drop down lower and lower. You sigh, looking up from your book and seeing that needy look. “Fine..” You sigh, spreading your legs to make space for his head to go. He quickly goes in, kissing your thighs gently and lazily making out with your pussy, nose judging against your clit as you continue reading.

𝐊𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐧

You were making the two of you dinner, humming softly as you stirred the pan, making sure the food would cook all the way through. You had music playing in the background, meaning you didn’t hear Bucky come padding up behind you. He was already quieter than a mouse when he moved and with music playing there was no chance you’d hear him. You jump out of your skin when you feel arms wrap around you. “Jesus, Buck-!” You say, body relaxing once the quick flash of adrenaline fizzles out. You sigh as you go back to cooking, barely noticing how he’s sinking down to his knees on the floor until you glance back. He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes speak every last thought in his head - every last thought in his head being ‘Let me eat that pussy, please and thank you.’ You give him a disapproving look but slightly widen your stance, allowing him to slot between your thighs. He sensually licks up your clit, lips attaching to your bundle of nerves and sucking, a finger going up to you with your hole and smear your slick around. You sigh contentedly as you continue cooking dinner, Bucky enjoying his appetiser just below you.

𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫

You had shampoo in your hair, scrubbing all the dirt away. The hot water ran down your body, making you sigh contently as the stress of the day all melts away, your eyes closed in bliss. And then you hear the bathroom door, signaling a certain someone had discovered you were showering. Bucky was a menace. If he knew you were in the shower, he was practically stripping his clothes off and leaping in with you at a moments notice. You hear the shower doors sliding open and the sound of Bucky getting in. “Hi baby..” he murmurs, wrapping himself around you. After some actual washing of your body, Bucky slips back down to his knees. Oh for fucks sake. “Be quick. I don’t wanna go all pruny.” You huff, holding onto the shower railing that was put in after an incident like this where you’d slipped after Bucky had fucked you dumb. “Yes ma’am..” He hums as he kneads your thighs with his hands, licking at your clit and sucking. You groan softly, hands taking through his wet hair as he continues to eat you like a man starved. “Munch..” You mumble. He hums against your cunt, sending a small buzz through you, “Don’t act like you aren’t wet.”

𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐭

You weren’t even sure how you ended up in here. You’d been having a nice chat with Natasha during the party, dressed in a sleek, silky black dress with a leg slit. Next thing you knew, Bucky said he was taking you to grab a drink and now you were in this closet, sat on some little shelf with his head shoved between your open thighs. Your thighs clench around his head, hands gripping onto the walls, knowing that you couldn’t put them in his hair due to the fact it was perfectly gelled and it’d raise a few eyebrows if he came out with messed up hair and you a panting, pink-cheeked mess. “Bucky.. Jesus, can’t you hold yourself back for one right?” You rasp, head falling back as he dips his tongue into you. He hums in disagreement, shaking his head slightly, his nose budging against your clit, making your hips buck further into his face. “You’re the one bucking your hips into my mouth. Can’t you hold yourself back?” He says, and once he’s done he goes straight back to practically shoving his whole face into your cunt.

𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦

“Bucky, you can’t be serious! I go for a piss and you follow me into the bathroom because you wanna eat me out?!” You hiss. You were at dinner with your, frankly, boring family and had gone to the bathroom. Once you’d finished your business, you were in the mirror washing your hands, when you’d noticed the lock turning - how the fuck he’d managed it, you didn’t know - and then the door opened and shut as quickly. And then there was Bucky. As if it was a perfectly normal thing to break into the bathroom your girlfriend is in. “Sh, sh, sh, cmon, bend over the sink.” He murmurs, trying to hush you with his kisses as he presses you against the sink. He bends you over, immediately sinking to your knees and pushing your dress up. He licks stripes up, having no time to lose. You aren’t sure how long you were there but you eventually came with a muffled moan, all over his face. “Cmon, make yourself presentable, your mom’s waiting.”

Tags: @chrisevansleftnipple , @homiesexual-or-homosexual , @httpsells , @avengemepercy , @raikan624 , @multiversefanfics , @majulians-groupie ' @maryevm , @grilledcheesewithjalapeno , @yaboyguzma69 , @hopeofwinter , @buckybarnesslutshop

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girl-lostconnection · 4 months ago

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If Price can't climb, what's stopping fruitbat reader from just flying up somewhere he can't reach and ignoring him? (And also maybe try to take precious sweet seal baby Johnny with them wait what who said that I musta been possessed)

It’s like you heard that I’m out of ideas and dropped yourself in my lap, god bless you, Night.

Price can’t climb and he’s annoyed AS FUCK that he can’t, because it means that at least half of his team (Gaz and Reader) are able to just get high enough and he won’t be able to reach them.

He’s even more annoyed when they manage to snatch Soap with them (because I’m sorry, but Simon’s big ass is too heavy, he’s staying on the ground).

I’m not sure that Reader would be able to haul Johnny high up but Kyle very much can, harpy eagles are known to carry their prey that weighs a lottttt.

(Read on Wikipedia that they are incredibly strong hunters. What’s interesting females of their species are actually much stronger than males and capable of hauling prey weighing up to 20 pounds, while males usually limit with prey rough half of their own weight.)

So I think that if put up to mischief Kyle would most definitely participate and knowing Johnny? He will be very enthusiastic about getting on pack leader’s nerves for the sake of doing so.

I can imagine Price circling whatever place they got perched on and patiently waiting because one way or another — they will need to come down. And when they do, he will be there. And he will make sure to show that he’s very unimpressed with their games.

But also, my personal headcanon, I think part of him would actually enjoy this slow hunt because it’s not often he gets to play chase his mates (above his station, man thinks he’s too old to do that). So part of him is always thrilled because it means he gets to chase and he’s surprisingly fast as fuck.

He’s not only fast, but he’s also capable of catching both of them, because the man has insane grip strength and he’s capable of hauling one of them while running after the other without slowing down.

So Price is a menace in on its own. His pack loves it.

Simon is just drinking his cuppa and watching Captain get his proper enrichment as the pack is screaming and laughing and running for their lives.

Also who’s to say that captain won’t spend the evening after munching on their necks and shoulders and hands, just smothering them in himself. Because now that he’s happy and content after a good chase, there’s another type of hunger that needs sating.

But also who’s to say that Reader and Gaz with Johnny don’t anticipate that.

What they didn’t anticipate (but kind of should have all things considered) was Simon joining in and rumbling over their shoulder that “ i‘s not nice. don’t you have any fuckin’ manners? Lemme teach you some”.

(Bastard enjoys that he can just press one or two of them under himself and they can’t get out)

#fruit bat au #call of duty #cod mw2 #girl.snippets #simon ghost riley #captain john price x you #john price x you #captain john price x reader #captain john price #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader

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jinwoosbabyboo · 5 months ago

Note

what are the lads' girl dinners in your opinion?

𝙶𝚒𝚛𝚕 𝙳𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛

Here's what I personally think the lads men would have as a girl dinner feel free to argue with me

𝚉𝚊𝚢𝚗𝚎

Zayne is no stranger to girl dinner and doesn't even know it. This man is grabbing a sandwich w/ a slice of cake and a parfait to wash it down. As a matter of fact with the amount of hours he works he probably has girl dinners on the regular.

𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚕

I feel like people tend to forget that even though Raf is our fishie sea god lover boy this menace loves seafood. He is not a "fish are our friends" guy this man is munching on that seafood and licking his chops afterwards. His ass is air frying some popcorn shrimp with a glass of guava juice.

𝚇𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚛

If he got paid to cook he'd one broke son of a bitch (Sorry Xav I love you baby) Xavier is no stranger to girl dinner because that's all he can do honestly. He lives off frozen food and hotpot so girl dinner? Spicy mf buldak ramen with tteokbokki and probably a glass of water. He's also calling you to come over to eat with him.

𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚞𝚜

He's having his chef cook for him so it's rare that he has a girl dinner however comma when he does he's either warming up leftovers or he's throwing a quick salad together and keeping it pushing.

#love and deepspace #sylus love and deepspace #sylus #lads #lnds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #lads rafayel #lads xavier #lads zayne #sylus lads #lnds #lnds rafayel #lnds xavier #lnds zayne #rafayel love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #nikaaaaimagine

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melliemell · 6 months ago

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OKAY HEAR ME OUT.. POCKY GAME WITH THE BSD CAST (preferably Ranpo and Dazai, feel free to add whoever u want!!) MAKE IT ROMANTIC TOO PLZ I CANT GET THIS IDEA OUT OF MY HEAD🙏🙏🙏

LOTS OF LOVE - an anon who lost their glasses

👀👀this... this was too fun to write ohmygod you have no idea

Now you've managed to get me stuck on thoughts of silly little moments with those losers too aaAAAAAA I gotchu nonnie, you ask and I deliver😌

BSD Cast ft. Pocky Game

(Dazai, Ranpo, Fyodor, Chuuya; high-key suggestive, blame them not me)

Dazai

“It’s a very delicate procedure.”

“Mmm, big boy business, I see.”

“Shush. Good students listen to their sensei first and give smartass remarks later. Now…”

It would be Dazai’s idea, not surprising in the slightest. The thing is, he’d be very convincing about this, all sweet smiles and an offhand remark how cute it’d be ‘cause couples are supposed to do sappy things, duh. An innocent enough suggestion, one you found amusing but nothing to bat an eye about.

Until you add Dazai’s complete disregard for social norms and he’d be pulling those things out in the most embarrassing, inconvenient places he could think of. Mostly to annoy you, secondly to see how red in the face you’d get if he put you in a compromising situation. And oh boy do those happen often.

One moment you’d be in the middle of discussing important work matters with Atsushi, the next Dazai’s sliding up in your personal space, pocky already hanging at his lips. Worst is he’d act as though this is your average activity, batting his lashes all sweetly at you as he waited. If you snap the pocky with your hand instead he’d react as though it was his heart you just crushed, you cruel beauty of his.

It’s all fine though, things considered. So long as he does get his kiss in the end. Behind some privacy this time.

Ranpo

No. Do not engage with this man in a pocky game, he will be an absolute menace about it.

Unlikely to suggest it himself as it means he’d have to share his snacks with you. Could be convinced if informed of the chance of getting free smooches though. But he’d whine about it, probably already munching on the pack you bought as you were explaining the rules to him.

In the case of you managing to save some for the actual thing…

“Yeah, yeah, can you get on with it? I wanna play already.”

Ranpo does not, in fact, play. The moment you get in place, both of you biting onto your respective side, Ranpo all but throws away any and all rule-information you gave. Who needs those? Only losers, that’s who.

He’s already bitten off almost the entirety of the pocky, lips finding yours a second later as he pulls you in, hands smashing up your cheeks on both sides. You can practinally hear him munching on the chocolate which makes this all the more hilarious. Talk about mixed priorities.

Second try goes just as the first one; any illusions of a game forgotten as you were pretty sure Ranpo’s impatience wasn’t quite something you were equipt for…

The third and final chance (last pocky, unfortunately he ate the rest) wasn’t really a chance, honestly. Not when you could just push him back on the couch and kiss him stupid as you climbed atop.

He might get the remaining pocky later. Maybe.

Fyodor

“How charming.”

Would be amused by the whole thing. Unexpectedly easy to convince, and it gets even weirder as he calmly complies with the rules, nodding patiently. Before you know it you’re staring down at each other, one pocky distance between you two.

Not the type to rush into things, letting you get closer to him instead. Expect a lot of raised eyebrows and chaste kisses as you go through the whole pack. Did you think this was a one go thing? Silly you. A happy, satisfied partner is a compliant one, after all. Little things like this cost him nothing, but could bring a smile on your face. Why would he waste an opportunity like that?

Unlikely to push things further… but just as unlikely to stop you from leaving a few more kisses on him. One or two at the edge of his lips. One accidentally finding its way on his jaw. A trail of feathery brushes down his throat and soon he’d be getting the memo pretty well.

You can’t help it. There’s something about Fyodor’s damned calmness that always leads to this. Maybe it’s the presence of character; something solid and secure before you that always manages to crawl under your skin. You’d be pulling at his shirt and trousers before you know it, pocky game entirely forgotten.

Chuuya

This one’s a trickie.

Chuuya’d be split between wanting to give in to your sillies, but also… why? Why this? Why not go to that nice and fancy restaurant he talked to you about? The one with the molten chocolate cakes; he’d treat you to all the sweets in the world if you’d ask him.

Embarrassed at first, and trying his best to sneakily pull himself out of the situation. Until you finally manage to corner him, pocky box in hand and a roguish glint in your eyes.

Maybe it was his dignity, or maybe he was playing too much into the tough guy persona. But the moment you sat him down, a winner’s determination written all over your face– oh, no. Hell no, this was on.

Forget about any cute couple moments. Oh nono, it was all narrowed eyes and prolonged stares of intense analysis, each trying to predict the others’ move. One wrong decision, just the slightest distraction and–

Before Chuuya had you round the waist, rolling you suddenly on the bed as a panicked yelp flew from your lips. The absolute ass. And he’d be laughing about it too, looking down at your sprawled form with the goofiest smile, trying to bite into his lower lip to stifle yet another fit.

“You all good, sweets? Guess ya lost this round.”

And you’d pull him down, your breath ghosting over his widening grin.

“We’ll see about that.”

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cevansbrat0007 · 9 months ago

Text

Regrets Only.

Summary: Ari reaches his limit with your latest TikTok prank...

Warnings: Mature Themes, Smut, Ari Being A Menace, TikTok Pranks, Shenanigans, Angry!Ari, Brat!Reade, Small Chase Kink, Light Manhandling. Biting, Spanking, Bondage, Handcuffs, Overstimulation, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Prompt courtesy of @jamneuromain. Part my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

In all the times you’ve tried, you’ve never once regretted pranking your man with something you’d seen on TikTok – until today. Yes. Believe it or not, this time you might’ve gone a bit too far.

Which is why you’re currently holed up in Ari’s fairly spacious closet, sipping on a bottle of water and munching on a granola bar while you wait for the bounty hunter to calm down. You lean back with a sigh, only to wince when you feel a shoe digging into your side.

You make quick work of tossing it to the other side of the room before returning to the treat in your hand. But just as you go to take another bite, you hear something that makes your stomach sink - even as your pulse spikes.

And it lets you know that you are well and truly fucked.

Earlier That Day (Roughly Twenty-Seven Minutes Ago)

After a solid ten minutes of vigorous stretching, you bend down to check the laces on your tennis shoes. Once they’re secure, you quietly make your way to the kitchen to retrieve the items you needed for your latest prank. The one you planned to play on your favorite unsuspecting bounty hunter, who was blissfully snoring away on a couch in the living room.

Now, this particular one just so happened to be a little…bolder than either of your previous stunts. It required more courage, coupled with a dash of bravery, and a well thought out Plan B in the event things went south.

You open the refrigerator and pull out the pack of hot dogs you’d bought during your last trip from the grocery store. While you’d originally told Ari that you wanted him to put them on the grill, he had no way of knowing that they would also be used to torture him. Common sense told you that you’d be better off keeping that tiny piece of information to yourself.

Stifling a mischievous giggle, you extract one singular frankfurter from the package before resealing it and putting it away. Next, you move to your utility drawer to gleefully swipe a pair of scissors.

This was the entire plan. You were going to quietly tuck a hot dog in your man’s zipper, and then wake him up so he could watch you snip it in half with a pair of scissors. In all the videos you watched – and you’d watched a number of them – every bleary eyed victim panicked as if you’d just cut off their actual dick.

And therein lay the prank.

The clips had left you in stitches for hours. So much so that Ari had noticed how much fun you were having, only to roll his eyes when you revealed that you were scrolling through his least favorite app on your phone.

Fucking TikTok.

He hated it. You loved it. Frankly, the only reason he even tolerated you telling him about the things you’d seen is because he could tell it brought you joy.

Excitement buzzes through you as you tiptoe into the living room. You’re grateful to see that Ari is still sleeping, snoring soundly with one impressively muscled arm tucked behind his head.

With gentle hands, you dutifully undo the zipper of his Levi’s before carefully inserting the hot dog. Since you don’t want to mess this up, you make sure to go slow, taking your time. You just knew this prank was going to be epic.

Once that’s done, you briefly take a second to wipe your hands on your leggings before taking a deep breath. Well, it was now or never. Go big or go home, as they say.

Leaning down, you grab Ari by the shoulder, attempting to jostle him awake. It takes a couple tries, but he does eventually open his eyes.

“Whaa–?” A grin breaks out across his handsome features as he emerges from his sleepy haze. “Hey, baby.”

“Hiya, Beast.” You offer him what you hope looks like your most unhinged smile and the reveal the pair of scissors that, up until now, you’d kept hidden behind your back. “How’s about I take a little off the top?” You sing, brandishing the shears.

“The hell?” His confused blue eyes go wide as they follow the path of the scissors. Shock overcomes him as he watches, in what feels like slow motion, as you cut off a sizable portion of the frank.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” He roars, grabbing himself as he scrambles off the couch and onto the floor before proceeding to do the funniest, most awkward backwards crab walk you’ve ever seen in your life.

You double over with laughter as Ari struggles to come to grips with the fact that you definitely did not just make him the next John Bobbitt your Lorena. He’s breathing hard as he rips the hot dog out of his zipper, holding it up to the light.

“Oh my God, that was amazing!” You wheeze.

“The hell is wrong with you?!” He tosses the damned thing across the room before covering his face with his hands as he wills himself to calm down. “Have you lost your fuckin’ mind?”

Wiping tears from your eyes, you decide to put the bounty hunter out of his misery by whispering his least favorite phrase: “It was a prank!” A renewed wave of laughter hits you when you recall just how gobsmacked he’d been by the whole ordeal. God, your sides hurt something fierce.

“Just what in the ever loving fuck would make you think that was funny?” Ari growls low in his throat as he finally sits up. And the look he’s giving you now…

It’s hot enough to burn right through you. And not in a sexy way.

“That’s just the magic of TikTok, I guess.” Your smile wanes as you watch your severely irritated boyfriend slowly climb to his feet. “I mean, you should’ve seen your face when–”

“When what?” Comes his quiet rumble, the sound reverberating deep in his chest. “When I thought you cut my dick off just now? Is that–is that what you’re laughing about?” The smile he offers you looks a little less than friendly.

“Um yeah. I’d say so.”

Instinct, as well as the need for self-preservation, has you taking a cautious step backwards. You were prepared to run if you had to. It was the whole reason why you’d stretched in the first place.

“Oh yeah?” Ari scrubs a palm over his ticking jaw. “Is that so?”

Instead of responding you decide to simply nod. Oh, and take another step backwards, of course.

“I’m sure that if you’d maybe stop and think about it –”

“Why don’t you c’mere so I can show you just how much I appreciate your so-called sense of humor?” He motions you forward, opening up his waiting arms.

But you know better.

“I, uh…” You hedge, bracing your hands in front of you. “Can see you might need some more time to appreciate the joke. So I’m just gonna…um…” You blow out a breath. “Give you some space so you can – eeeep!”

An incensed Ari picks that moment to strike - lunging at you with a speed that belies his size. Thank goodness you’re prepared. Ducking under his arms, you spin around and make a mad dash for the stairs. Squealing, you take them two at a time, hoping to make it to your sanctuary before he can get his hands on you.

“Get your ass back here, Bird!”

No way, pal!

Heart pumping, you grab the doorframe and all but slingshot yourself into Ari’s bedroom, slamming the door behind you. While it would only buy you a couple of seconds, that was really all you needed.

You dive headlong into a nearby closet before swiftly closing the door and hitting the lock. As your chest heaves, you decide to take a seat on the floor before reaching for the bottle of water you’d previously planted in your hiding spot.

After guzzling almost half, you replace the cap. You knew you ought to conserve your rations. Just in case you were stuck here for a while.

“I’m not on your shit today, baby. Okay? Today your man’s got time!” Ari bellows seconds later. “So, if I were you, I’d come on out now!”

Shaking your head, you vow to stay silent. So you say nothing, even when he tries the knob on the door that separates him from you.

“Open up, sweetheart!”

Again you say nothing, in favor of unwrapping one of your favorite granola bars. They were the chewy kind, the ones that tasted more like dessert than they did something healthy.

“I’ll come out when you calm down!” You finally yell back after you chew and swallow. “Fucking Beast.” You grumble under your breath.

“Oh, I’m more than calm.” The weight of his sardonic chuckle is not lost on you. “Why don’t you come on out and see?” You can’t help but jump when one of his fists pounds on the door. “I swear…I just wanna talk.”

“I don’t believe you!”

“You’re gonna open this door, darlin’.”

“No, I’m not!” You hiss, throwing one of his shoes at the wall for good measure.

“Yes, you are.” Ari hits back. “Now, you can either come out on your own, or…”

“Or else what?”

“Or, I’ll come in there and get you. And trust me, little Bird…that’s the last thing you want.”

“Yeah?” You spit, meanwhile inwardly lamenting your man’s lack of a sense of humor for the umpteenth time. “Well…” You take another bite of your granola bar. “I’d like to see you try.”

Famous last words.

Ari whistles low, making you shiver. “Wait right there, baby. I’ll see you in a minute.”

You let out a sigh of relief once you get the sense that you’re finally alone. As funny as it all had seemed initially, you were quickly coming to regret this particular prank. The longer you sat in this closet, the more you began to honestly examine – and then reexamine – your life choices.

Perhaps it was time to give your newfound love of pranking your bounty hunter a break. Lips pursed in thought, you allow yourself another bite of your chewy bar. Only to frown when you hear a very familiar sound that fills you with instant regret.

Apparently Ari had returned. And he’d brought his power drill. Fuck!

Your mouth goes dry as the sound grows louder. And then you’re forced to watch in horror as your man makes fast work of literally removing the closet door from its hinges. It was the last thing you ever expected your normally rather patient and understanding boyfriend to do.

“There’s my girl.” Ari’s dangerous purr comes as he picks up the now useless slab or wood and sets it aside like it weighs almost nothing. “C’mon out of there so we can talk.”

When you don’t move, your bounty hunter decides to come get you. He hauls you out by your wrist, making sure not to bruise you in the process.

“Beast, don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic? I mean – ooh!” You scoff, only to rise on your toes when his free hand comes down on your vulnerable ass. Hard.

“Ow!”

“Let me make something very clear here, darlin’.” He leads you over to the bed before sitting down and then pulling you over his knee. “You want to waste time messin’ around on that stupid app you love so much? Fine.” Ari slaps your rump again, forcing you to bury your face in the covers to keep from crying out.

“But where I’m gonna draw the line right now is you testin’ ‘em out on me. Unless you’re in that kitchen whipping up a new recipe I am not to be your guinea pig. You get me?”

His heavy palm comes down hard again when you don’t respond. This time he takes a moment to massage your cotton covered backside. “Do. You. Get. Me.” Each word is peppered by a solid smack.

“Yes!” You wail, although it comes out slightly muffled.

Still not satisfied, Ari goes to grip the waistband of your leggings, dragging them down to your ankles, complete with your simple, white cotton panties. “This could’ve been a relaxing Sunday for us, little Bird. Just mindin’ our own business.” You can’t help but shiver when you feel him fondle your upturned ass, molding and massaging your burning cheeks. “But you just had to go and be a brat, didn’t you?”

“I–I’m sorry!”

It was too little, too late. And you both knew it.

“Oh now, you’re sorry.” He mocks before raining down a fury of perfectly-timed smacks. “I love you, baby. I do. But I also know you. You’re not really sorry – at least not yet.”

Ari eases out from beneath you, all the while demanding that you remain face down with your reddened ass pushed up in the air so that he can enjoy the view while he prepares the next part of your punishment. And you had best believe you feel his sharp teeth sink into the left globe of your ass before he goes.

Consider it a parting gift.

One Hour Later…

And that’s how you found yourself handcuffed to the bed, courtesy of the signature purple, butter leather cuffs he’d had made for you. Unfortunately for you, you’d learned that he’d recently purchased another set…

For your ankles.

Your bounty hunter smiles as he picks up one of your vibrators – the one you’d purchased together – before applying it to your already oversensitive clit. Bucking your hips, you try to escape the torture.

With no such luck.

You desperately tug at your restraints, even as your cries fall on deaf ears. No matter how many times you promised to never play another prank on him ever again, it still wasn’t enough. Instead he’d continued to keep you bound while he worked out his anger…

By ruthlessly overstimulating your poor, sweat slicked body. No matter how many times you came, no matter how many times you threatened to scream yourself hoarse, he kept demanding more.

Because, according to Ari, since you’d taken a few years off his life, you apparently owed him as many orgasms by way of apology as you were able to give. Which meant you were going to be sore as hell tomorrow.

Which was why, in this moment, although you could feel another orgasm threatening to overtake you, you were filled with nothing but…

Regrets only.

END

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multi-fandom-imagine · 4 months ago

Text

𝐀 𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 (𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝) || Severus Snape ||

A/n: I low key love Snape (idk leave me alone) Au where he only saw Lily as a sister, survived the war thanks to the Reader ( the girl he always loved )

-and Harry is a professor here like he should have been.

Severus Snape had endured many things in his life—war, betrayal, incompetent students, Harry Potter’s entire existence—but nothing could have prepared him for the utter chaos that came with bringing a one-and-a-half-year-old into his classroom.

And yet, here he was.

You had come down with a rather nasty bout of illness and was currently confined to his quarters at Hogwarts, leaving Severus with no other choice but to bring his son, Elias, with him to class. He had considered leaving the toddler with Minerva, but the mere thought of McGonagall indulging Elias’ every whim sent an unpleasant shudder down his spine.

So, there he sat. At his desk. Resigned. With his son.

Elias sat happily in a conjured high chair beside him, swinging his little legs while munching on a biscuit, blissfully unaware that he had just become the single greatest distraction Hogwarts had seen in years.

The students were losing their minds.

From the moment they entered the dungeon, every single one of them froze, eyes going wide before they exploded into whispered squeals and awed whispers.

“Oh my Merlin, is that—?”

“Professor Snape has a baby?”

“He’s so cute!”

“I never thought I’d see the day—”

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose as a Hufflepuff girl audibly gasped, clutching her friend’s arm in excitement.

“If anyone so much as utters the words ‘adorable’ or ‘precious’ within my vicinity,” Severus drawled, rubbing his temples, “you will all be scrubbing cauldrons until next Christmas.”

A Ravenclaw girl raised her hand and without being called upon exclaimed. “But sir, he is adorable."

Severus glared. “Detention.”

“Worth it.”

Elias, as if sensing he was the center of attention, turned his head, blinked at the students… and then let out a tiny, delighted giggle.

The entire class melted.

Several Gryffindors gasped audibly. One Slytherin put a hand over her heart like she had just witnessed something life-changing.

Elias, pleased with the reaction, clapped his little hands together and giggled again.

Severus exhaled slowly, staring at the ceiling like it might give him strength but as if his day could not get possibly worse.

Enter: Professor Potter

The moment the door to the classroom swung open, and in strolled Harry Potter, now a professor himself, his grin far too wide for Severus’ liking.

Harry took one look at the situation and immediately let out a low whistle.

“Well, well, well,” Harry said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. “Now this is something I never thought I’d see. You, Snape, forced to bring your baby to work.”

Severus glared. “Spare me, Potter.”

Harry ignored him completely and walked right up to Elias, who beamed at him.

“Hey there, little man,” Harry said, ruffling Elias’ dark hair. “Having fun driving your dad mad?”

Elias giggled again and held his arms up, clearly expecting to be picked up.

Harry immediately complied, because who could ever deny such a cute baby.

Severus scowled. “Put him down, Potter.”

Harry grinned. “Oh, come on, Snape. It’s not my fault your son clearly likes me more.”

Elias, as if to confirm this, gently patted Harry’s face, then turned toward Severus and—with the biggest, most innocent smile possible—said: “Dada funny.”

The entire class burst into laughter.

Severus closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose.

You owed him for this. So much.

By the time class was over, Severus had accepted his fate. His students had spent more time cooing at Elias than focusing on their potions, and Potter had not let him hear the end of it.

As the last student left, Harry still grinning like an idiot, Severus stood, plucking Elias from his high chair.

“You,” he muttered to his son, “are a menace.”

Elias snuggled into his father’s shoulder, completely unfazed.

Severus sighed, running a hand through Elias’ messy dark curls. He was exhausted. But somehow… he didn’t mind.

When you were finally better, he was going to pretend this entire day never happened.

Harry, unfortunately, would never let him and it seemed that Dumbledore wouldn't either.

Severus Snape had endured an entire day of humiliation.

Students cooing over Elias. Harry’s endless teasing. McGonagall smirking at his suffering. Even you, his own wife, had laughed yourself into a coughing fit when you had heard about what had happened in his classroom.

Surely, surely, he would find some peace in the Headmaster’s office.

Severus swept inside, Elias still clinging sleepily to his robes, and collapsed into the chair behind the desk, letting out an exhausted sigh.

That’s when the chuckling started.

Severus froze.

Slowly, too slowly, he turned his head toward the portraits lining the walls.

And there, in his grand frame, sat Albus Dumbledore, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief behind his half-moon spectacles.

Severus sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“No,” he said flatly. “Not you too.” A headache already forming.

Dumbledore merely smiled. “Oh, my dear boy,” he said, his voice far too pleased. “How could I possibly resist?”

Severus glared. “This is not a spectacle for your amusement.”

Dumbledore’s portrait chuckled. “Severus, I have watched you suffer through many things in life. But this—” he gestured dramatically toward the sleeping toddler curled against his father’s chest—“this is by far the most entertaining.”

Severus scowled craddling his son against his chest as his gaze looked away from the large portrait.

“I must say,” Dumbledore continued, his eyes twinkling brighter than ever, “I never imagined I would see the day where Severus Snape was reduced to being a walking bed for a sleepy child.”

Severus gritted his teeth. “If you are quite finished—”

“Oh, not yet,” Dumbledore said cheerfully.

Several of the other portraits chuckled in agreement, some nodding along.

“You know,” Dumbledore mused, resting his chin on his hand, “if dear Elias does end up in Hufflepuff, I do believe Minerva will never let you hear the end of it.”

Severus groaned. “Enough.” Fingers running through his hair.

“Perhaps a yellow scarf for Christmas?”

“I am leaving now.”

“A badger plush in his Hogwarts trunk, perhaps?”

Severus stood abruptly, shaking his head in pure exasperation. “I refuse to participate in this absurdity.”

Elias stirred in his sleep, mumbling softly, before letting out a content sigh, his little fingers gripping onto Severus’ robes even tighter.

Dumbledore’s grin widened.

Severus looked down at his son, his scowl softening for just a fraction of a second. He let out a long suffering sigh, then turned one last glare at the portrait.

“You are insufferable,” he muttered.

Dumbledore beamed. “And you, my dear boy, are adorable.”

Severus left immediately.

As the door slammed shut, Dumbledore’s portrait chuckled again, his blue eyes twinkling with satisfaction.

“Ah,” he mused, leaning back in his chair. “That was deeply satisfying.”

#drabbles #drabble #severus snape #severus snape x reader #severus snape x y/n #severus snape x you #snape x reader #snape x y/n #snape x you #snape #HP #hp x y/n #hp x you #hp x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter x reader #harry potter #JKR is a hoe

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talesof-old · 1 year ago

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james potter is 100% a munch

you’re so right 😭 i’m absolutely feral for this man

pairing(s): james potter x fem!reader

warning(s): 18+, smut, oral sex (f!receiving), multiple orgasms, i think that’s it

word count: 305

masterlist

If there’s one thing that James Potter could do all day, it was this.

James lapped away at your cunt, lewd noises echoing around the otherwise empty room. Your hands were fisted in his thick black hair, tugging this way and that, groans accompanying any particular forceful pull.

One of his hands gently stroked at your lower lips, keeping everything parted just the way he liked so he could have full access. His tongue speared into your cunt in time with the friction of his nose against your clit. You whined, hips bucking against his face. What could only be described at a puddle had formed beneath you by this point. You weren’t even sure you could cum again.

Your thighs trembled, threatening to close around James’ head for the umpteenth time. The muscles of your stomach clenched, your orgasm hitting you before you could stop it. Stars exploded across your vision. James’ nose bumped along your clit as his tongue dipped in and out of your cunt.

“James-“ You gasped.

Your body shook with sensitivity. Time melted away; you weren’t even sure how many times you’d climaxed at this point.

He hummed, the vibrations sending aftershocks through your body. You cried out. James pulled away with a grin, face shiny with your slick, and smacked a loud kiss to your inner thigh.

“That’s it, sweets.” His fingers trailed over your bare skin, your body shiny with sweat. You attempted to inhale, but your lungs stuttered instead. James face twisted into some half-sympathetic expression—you could practically feel the smugness radiating off of him.

“You good, sweetheart? Need any help with that?” You rolled your eyes, chest heaving as you weakly batted him away. “You’re a menace, Potter.” He chuckled, the sound full and warm as he pushed himself up to cuddle against you. “But I’m your menace.”

+++

#james potter x you #james fleamont potter #indian james #desi james #james potter drabble #james potter oneshot #james potter x reader #james potter #james potter x y/n #james potter smut #marauders x y/n #marauders x fem!reader #marauders x you #marauders x reader #marauders era #the marauders #marauders

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

Note

hi i have a request that you're obviously under no obligation to answer but i saw that you did a royal au for sirius and i was wondering if you'd be open to doing another?

something like they're in a secret relationship and they're at the same ball and trying to act like they're the picture of good behavior but sirius is being subtly flirty and a menace?

Thanks for requesting sweetheart! Slight deviation, they're not together but this takes place just a bit after the first one <3

prince!Sirius x princess!reader ♡ 2.2k words

Seeing as balls are generally marketed as the pinnacle of refinement, you hadn’t expected this to be so loud.

Every time the hum of conversation rises, someone keeps telling the musicians to play louder too, until people have to raise their voices and it starts over again. A victor-less battle. You have an inkling that it might all be easier to handle if you had just a bit more wine, but you’re on your best behavior for your new family.

You try not to wrinkle your brow, leaning closer to the man in front of you as the violins crescendo. “Sorry?” you ask, politely as you can.

A flicker of irritation crosses his face. You try not to wince. He tells you the title of his job again.

“Ah.” You nod, trying to look as though you understand the importance of this jumble of fancy-sounding words. “That’s so interesting. What does that entail?”

He’s thrilled you’ve asked. As the man launches into a thorough description of his day-to-day duties for the kingdom, you contemplate how surprisingly relevant a competence in lip-reading might be to your new role as princess. Is this something you’re going to have to do all of the time? You haven’t been able to make out half of what this man has said since he made his way over to you.

It’s pointless anyway. As soon as you notice Sirius Black standing behind him, you’re gone.

It’s been hardly a week since your illicit meeting with the Black heir. You’d munched on chicken nuggets, traded complaints about palace life and your wildly different upbringings. When a guard had come to fetch him back to his parents you’d hid behind the door, and to the best of your knowledge you’ve both pretended the meeting never happened ever since.

Now, he’s dark and gleaming under the light from the chandelier. He smiles dashingly at someone shaking his father’s hand, standing beside both of his parents and slightly in front of another boy you suppose must be his brother. You haven’t actually seen anyone in his family before now, but the connection isn’t difficult to draw; they’re eerily similar. Pitch black hair and pale skin stretched tight over delicate bones. Most horrifying of all, they’re wearing identical shades of black, the homogeneity of the men’s suits too precise to be incidental, except…

Sirius’ suit jacket shimmers with a silver sheen in certain lights.

Your lips curve before you can stop them. You hardly know him, but already this seems typical; he has to be different. Has to set himself apart. It’s less tiresome than it ought to be.

As though your thoughts have been broadcast across the room, Sirius’ head turns minutely in your direction. His eyes catch you and hold you.

It’s lucky the man standing in front of you doesn’t seem to notice how your gaze has wandered. He chatters on, unaware that your palms have slickened or that your heart has started pittering fiercely inside your chest. Sirius says something to his companions and peels off. He starts towards you.

You look back to your conversation partner, managing a nod of faux comprehension just before he reaches you.

You let your eyes flare as he stops beside the two of you, willing some surprise into your expression, but your voice comes out even more startled than you intend when you hiccup out, “Your highness.”

“Your highness,” Sirius says back, the faintest of smirks curving his lips as he inclines his head to you, then the man in front of you. “Lord Chamberlain.”

Shit. How does he know this guy’s name and you don’t?

Lord Chamberlain looks nearly as caught offguard by the prince’s notice as you are. “Your highness.” He puffs up. “I didn’t realize we would be enjoying your presence this evening.”

“Yes, my brother was supposed to be the only one accompanying my parents on this visit.” Sirius sounds even more polished than the last time you spoke with him. There’s an easy grace to his posture, an inherent knowledge of the tiny moves that allow one to conform to the etiquette of this culture which you’re still struggling to grasp yourself. But his eyes flash when they meet yours, a glimpse of that waggish boy you met in the sitting room. “However, during my last visit I found an interest in your lovely kingdom I’ve not had before.”

Lord Chamberlain begins to prattle on about the perfect astuteness of the prince, the many, many attractive qualities of your kingdom, few of which would be quite so perfect if not augmented by himself…Sirius nods with practiced diplomacy, waiting only for the man to take a breath before he turns his attention fully to you.

“I hoped you might join me for a dance,” he says, leaning closer so he doesn’t have to raise his voice over the music. “The next one is about to start.”

“Oh I’m not supposed—” You cut yourself off, eyes darting to the courtier monitoring you from the edge of the room. You imagine you’re not supposed to say what you’re not supposed to do. “I’m really not much for dancing.”

“Come on.” Sirius’ expression is teasing. “It’s rude to turn down an invitation from your guests. Isn’t it, Lord Chamberlain?”

Lord Chamberlain looks as though if Sirius proves that he knows his name another time he might be in danger of swooning.

“Yes,” he chokes out. His eyes when they meet yours are something akin to desperate. “Princess, it’s good form.”

You catch yourself chewing the inside of your lip, stopping as you look back to Sirius. You don’t think he would tattle on you for violating whatever atavistic rule requires you to dance with him, but Lord Bootlicker might.

“All right,” you say. Far less polite than society allows, you’re sure, but Sirius grins nonetheless.

“Excellent.” He takes your hand, leading you away. “Always a pleasure, Lord Chamberlain.”

The other man stands where you left him for a handful of moments, looking dazed, before beelining towards a server carrying refreshments.

“I don’t know any of the dances,” you hiss at Sirius as he guides you onto the floor. “I’m supposed to be staying away from here.”

“It��ll be fine,” he promises you, with the sort of confidence only a silver spoon can imbue. “If you just follow in the direction I lead you, your dress will cover up any missteps and I promise not to squeal if you step on my toes.”

You try to give him a droll look, but you can already feel it happening. You’re succumbing to his charms again.

There are only a few other partners around you, but here in the center of the room the noise seems even more overwhelming. Conversations overlap, laughter rings out, and music echoes off every wall in the large room. And just in front of you, still holding your hand, Sirius Black is watching you with his flagrant intensity. Even his eyes are too loud.

He leans close to your ear, breath fanning over your cheek. “Scoping out your dancing competency wasn’t really my aim,” he says. “I only wanted to get you close enough to have a conversation without shouting.”

You fear your thoughts must be bare in your expression. That afternoon in the sitting room was certainly memorable for you, but you were far from expecting Sirus to single you out afterwards. For all his talk about the novelty of you, he seems like the sort of person to have interesting interactions wherever he goes.

“Put your hand on my shoulder.”

You blink. “Huh?”

Sirius grins, and you realize your slip. No matter how the courtiers you’ve been assigned have drilled into you excuse me, sorry, pardon?, Sirius undoes all your practiced manners with ease.

“Your hand,” he says again, “goes on my shoulder.”

Just as you settle it tentatively atop of the faintly shiny material of his suit jacket, the music starts. Sirius places a sure hand on the small of your back and grins when you jolt.

“Easy,” he murmurs, taking your other hand and tugging you gently to the side. Everyone else steps that way too, and you let him lead you through the first steps of the dance. “I won’t bite. Not in front of your grandmother, anyway.”

You press your lips together to hold in a laugh, eyes finding your grandmother, the Queen, watching you from across the room. She’s smiling faintly, but the courtiers with her look less than pleased.

You swallow, turning your attention back towards Sirius. “They’re upset with me,” you say. It’s a relief to speak at a normal volume. You know your proximity means he’s the only one who can hear you. “I told you I’m not supposed to be dancing.”

“They’re not upset that you’re dancing, they’re upset you’re with me,” he replies easily. He guides you into a turn that curls you into him, his arm laying across your chest for just a moment before he turns you back out. “I have a bit of a repute.”

This, of all the things you’ve learned about Sirius Black, is the least surprising.

“So, you’re trying to ruin me, then?” you ask, half teasing.

Sirius grins sharp as a knife. He leans close. “Sweetheart, I want to ruin you in all sorts of ways. That’s just not one of them.”

Your momentary confidence drops right down to your stomach. If you thought you’d be able to play with Sirius and keep up, clearly you were wrong.

“We’re going to do a spin,” he warns breezily, saving you from any response. He lets go of your waist, holding your joined hands aloft and using them to guide you away from him and into a twirl.

Only, you go for it too quickly. You’re back in his arms while the other partners are still going through their slow turns. Sirius’ laughter barks out of him loud and sharp before he catches himself.

“Oh my god,” you mumble, resting your forehead on Sirius’ chest and shutting your eyes in mortification.

“Hey, it’s alright.” Sirius is still shaking with quiet laughter. His hand is friendly on the small of your back. “That was stunning. All the other ladies wish their skirts had fanned out the way yours just did.”

“Is skirt fanning really the object of the dance, though?”

“It’s eye-catching,” he maintains. You can hear the smile in his voice. “You can make anything lovely. Now stop hiding before one of your keepers has a stroke.”

You remove your face from his chest hastily. Your eyes flit to the courtier at the room’s edge before you return them to Sirius, cheeks burning.

His look softens. “Don’t fret, gorgeous, you’re not the only one who’s committed a faux-pas just now. That laugh earned me a proper glare from my mother. As soon as the dance is over, they’ll throw us into the dungeons together.”

“Well, at least it’ll be nice to have someone to talk to down there.” You bite down on a smile. Sirius, you’re beginning to notice, has a way of making all your worries about fitting into polite society feel silly. Nothing feels very serious when he’s around. Ironically enough. “Do we really have a dungeon?”

Another startled chuckle goes through him. This one is quiet enough not to raise any eyebrows, more’s the pity. “Not one currently in use. It’s a relic, with a door going out to the street so tours can go through.” He smiles, borderline sheepish. “I went on one when I was twelve.”

“You did?” You can’t stop the smile that leaps up on your face now. It shouldn’t be so easy to picture Sirius as a child, but it surprisingly is. A bit shorter and skinnier than he is now, skin and bones and night-black hair darting around and causing trouble. It’s an odd feeling to think that he explored your family’s palace long before you could, somehow both twinging and reassuring at once. “Is there a reason you’ve been here so often?”

Sirius looks genuinely surprised at that. “No one’s told you?” At your bemused look, he blinks, seeming to compose himself. His hand flattens on your back. You hadn’t realized he’d been gripping you. “Our families have been friends for literal centuries. My great-great-great-aunt was close with your great-great-whatever, and we’ve never let our claws out of each other.” He gives you a conspiratorial look, leaning closer. “I can’t attest to the relationship between the current ruling generations being quite so amicable, but we cling to each other nonetheless. Trade relations and all that. All that is to say,” he backs up, gifting you with a smile, “we really will be seeing a lot of each other.”

“Oh.” Your chest flutters with an unidentifiable feeling. You don’t know if you can handle seeing much more of Sirius Black. Every time you meet, it’s like he whittles away all your weeks of training and posture correction with a look. You’ll never make any progress if he’s constantly around to trip you up. “That’s nice.”

“You’re doing remarkably well,” he notes. You look up, for a moment worrying that he’s read your mind (he seems prone to doing that), but Sirius goes on. “I don’t know what you were talking about earlier, you’re a natural at this. My toes remain unsquished.” He gives you a secret smile. You return it wobbily. “There’s another spin coming up,” he says with a teasing glint in his eyes, “think you can handle it?”

Honestly? You think you’re already dizzy enough.

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sai-int · 5 months ago

Text

𓇢𓆸 fluff/no warnings | ♱ smut/mdni | ☠︎︎ angst | ❥ suggestive

�� sιmoᥒ rιᥣᥱყ

— 𓇢𓆸

༏ college au ༏ loser!reader ༏ dismissal duty ༏ butcher!simon ༏ possessive!simon ༏ bath time [ ghoap ] ༏ your hands are cold ༏ simon handles a creep ༏ that time of the month [ ghoap ]

— ♱

༏ ddlg ༏ voyeur ༏ shy!simon ༏ fwb!simon pt 2 ༏ making conversation ༏ overstimulated ,pt 2 ༏ throating him

— ☠︎︎

༏ breakup ༏ 78fahrenheit ༏ simon's got trauma

— ❥

༏ badboy!simon ༏ camgirl!reader ༏ toxic!groveing!simon ༏ butcher!simon x florist!reader

𓆦 johᥒᥒყ mᥲᥴtᥲvιsh

— 𓇢𓆸

༏ tipsy!johnny ༏ gross!bsf!johnny ༏ bath time [ ghoap ] ༏ christmas ༏ johnny handles a creep ༏ that time of the month [ ghoap ]

— ♱

༏ ass man ༏ android!johnny ༏ stairwell ༏ playfighing ༏ prone ༏ perv!kyle & perv!johnny ༏ munch

— ☠︎︎

༏ flirt!johnny ︎︎︎︎

— ❥

༏ oiled up ༏ cbf!johnny ༏ lacy panties ༏ not so alone ༏ fem!dom!reader

𓆦 johᥒ ρrιᥴᥱ

— 𓇢𓆸

༏ tiktok prank

— ♱

༏ cockwarming

— ❥

༏ officer!price ༏ his presence ༏ cowboy!price

𓆦 kყᥣᥱ gᥲrrιᥴk

— ♱

༏ poolboy!gaz ༏ perv!kyle & perv!johnny

— ❥

༏ grinding on kyle in a club

𓆦 köᥒιg

— 𓇢𓆸

༏ shy!roof-fixer!könig

— ♱

༏ somnophilia

𓆦 tᥲskforᥴᥱ 𝟷𝟺𝟷

— 𓇢𓆸

༏ your curls ༏ simon's a menace ༏ poly141 - pregnant ༏ sun signs

— ❥

༏ face-sitting ༏ poly141 - party ༏ poly 141 - burlesque ❥

— ♱

༏ poly141 - period ༏ ddlg

𓆦 joᥱᥣ mιᥣᥣᥱr

— ❥

༏ dance

𓆦 ᥲrthυr morgᥲᥒ

— 𓇢𓆸

༏ arthur handles a creep

— ♱

༏ gunplay

#༒︎ sai-int #call of duty #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #john price #task force 141 #könig #arthur morgan

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kiame-sama · 6 months ago

Text

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 21

(Cater can often be found in the lake next to the Heartslabyul dorm, either lounging on Trey or just casually swimming on his own. Because Cater is a lake Nymph, he is mostly translucent and invisible among the lake water, meaning he can very easily scare his fellow dorm members. The first time he did it to Riddle he was stuck in a collar for a full two weeks and resolved to never pull the Unicorn into the water again. Trey had to save Riddle- since Riddle can't swim well- and even scolded Cater in earnest for his action.)

Warnings; yandere, yandere behavior, possessive behavior, obsessive behavior, Savana king, mention of fear/trauma related to wolves/werewolves, spying, Platonic yandere goes protective, pride mentality, communal grooming, group obsessive behavior, Grim is only a good boy for his Hooman otherwise he is a menace, Nemean Lion, Werewolf, Faun, Satyr, Hellcat, Dragon, Selkie, Gnoll,

~~~~~~~~

Classes had somewhat felt like a blessing of normalcy for you and thankfully the professors were all in pleasant moods. Vargas even offered to 'set Leona straight' if the Nemean Lion ever got too rowdy or bossy. Trein made it clear that he expected you to come see him if ever anyone of Savanaclaw tried anything that made you uncomfortable. It seemed they all were ready to come to your aid if you needed them.

You didn't have many classes with Jack typically, but he seemed to suddenly be present in all of your classes. It was likely because of Savanaclaw being selected as your guards and Jack was the only first year who was an 'official' guard. There were times that you got used to seeing the Wolf-man in a passing glance, and there were times you caught sight from the corner of your eye and nearly jumped from being startled. Despite your efforts, it was proving difficult to fully relax around the Wolf.

Thankfully, most of your classes were with Ace and Deuce as well, the two Goats almost posturing around the Wolf. It was a funny sight alone and even more amusing scenario to think these Goats- who were shorter than Jack- were attempting to intimidate the Wolf. Even with the two pushing at Jack, he kept a mostly even temper and didn't even snarl at the two smaller freshmen.

Come lunchtime, however, the three were actually joking and relaxing around one another. Seeing them laugh and talk was such a stark contrast to how they had been not even hours before. It was odd enough that it made you think back to what the Ghosts had told you that morning. You knew the aura supposedly had an impact on the monster species, but what that impact specifically was eluded you.

Perhaps you would have to start keeping track of these odd instances. The notes app on your phone was a hidden enough place and you deftly entered the oddity before trying to return to the conversation at hand.

"So, (Y/n), what's the big deal letting little Grim chose Savanaclaw of all dorms? I was sure you were gonna choose Heartslabyul!"

"Well," you gently pet the little Hellcat's forehead and he purred in delight at your attention, happily munching away at some left over donuts from the day prior, "you heard his reasoning. Leona did save me that day- he saved the both of us- and I am deeply grateful for it."

"You haven't told us about that day yet, so I guess it's hard to visualize."

Ace glanced at Deuce who gave a side look at Jack. The Wolf noticed the look but was too concerned with what you were saying. You hadn't yet spoken to anyone outside of the staff and those who were with you that day about the event. Grim didn't like talking about it and even mewled while holding his ears if the subject was ever broached beyond simply mentioning it.

You idly noticed that those who sat at the other tables around your group had hushed considerably. It made you wonder how many ears had perked up to listen the moment you sat down. Even those you had not spoken too prior and only seen in passing had shown interest in you, some students passing by you several times before settling down.

You recognized some were Savanaclaw members, others were from Diasomnia. Even a few members from Heartslabyul were huddled around the tables nearest to you. It was hard not to be acutely aware of the presence of students around you. Unfortunately, you recognized that your entire week would be similar for the fact you had to stay in Savanaclaw with Leona due to the upcoming event.

"That day-"

"No!"

Grim let out a whimpering mew, holding his ears down and closing his eyes. You were quick to scoop up the little kit and cuddle him, his body shaking in stress even as you gently wrapped him in your school uniform jacket. He stopped shaking but still seemed stressed as you sighed and tried to think of a way to change the subject.

"I won't talk about it here, far too many ears listening in. Regardless, I'm told the one who orchestrated the whole thing has already been sentenced."

"Oh yeah," Deuce quickly changed topic, tilting his head curiously as his goat ears angled back slightly, "Housewarden Riddle said it was a Huoshu scientist from the Queendom of Roses. The law protecting Humans may be old, but it is clearly still enforced and it is strict. It leaves very little room for uncertainty on punishment and many consider it harsh."

"I'm going to guess it has something to do with decapitation?"

"H-how did you guess?"

"... Riddle's favorite line is 'Off With Your Head' and he had to get it from somewhere. Why not from the Queen he so often represents?"

"I guess that makes sense..."

You hummed and went back to petting Grim as Ace grabbed a head of lettuce, pulling the green leafy plant apart and digging in. As he bit through several layers and Deuce grabbed some of the leaves that fell to the table, you were again reminded of how different these monster men were from you. Not only did they have different manners, but they had such different diets. It made you wonder how you understood them at all or if it was some cosmic joke that they spoke the same language and dialect as you.

During your musings a dark shadow fell over you and your two Goat companions froze, looking over you at whoever stood behind you. Jack growled reflexively on instinct before the sound died in his throat, his reaction telling you the likely identity of the interloper. With a quick glance you saw it was Leona who was grinning down at you in an almost good humored way.

"Stand down, Jack. That's a good boy, but no treat for you."

"Leona," you scolded the arrogant Lion, "don't belittle him like he's some pet. Not okay."

"Sheesh, Mousey, what are you, one of Royal Sword Academy's goons?"

A chorus of hissing and growling came from those sitting around you as it confirmed the other students were listening in. Their response let you know this Royal Sword Academy was not favored in Night Raven College.

"Who?"

"The place Che'nya goes. They're down at the beach line of Sage Island. They're our rival school."

Deuce spoke up, offering a quick answer to your question. You tried to think back on that time after the disastrous Unbirthday Party but most of those memories were blurred and almost foggy.

"Hm... I remember a pink Cat guy with a split tail, but I don't remember much about him beyond how warm he was. Pretty sure I was potioned out on whatever Professor Divus gave to me."

"He's the guy that shielded you from Riddle's magic blast after Trey hit him. He's-"

Leona quickly interjected, basically picking you up out of your seat as you gasped in surprise and turned to hold the Lion. Clearly he was not in the mood for a lesson and his patience had been exceeded.

"That's enough chatting about those goody two-shoes, point is, Night Raven isn't like that and you are here with us, not them. So, act like a Night Raven student."

"Leona, put me down-"

"Nope. You've been studying and being a good little student all day. Were going to the greenhouse to take a nap."

"I have classes-!"

"And I have a nap to get back to. I came all this way just to get you, and I'm not leaving without my favorite little squeaky toy. Got it, Mousey?"

"Leona-"

You squeaked as he turned and began walking, holding you in his arms and not even glancing back at the three freshmen as you called out to them.

"Tell professor Divus I can't come to class because I'm being pupnapped!"

Leona didn't bother with your words as he carried you and Grim out of the cafeteria. True to his word, he seemed to be taking you to the Greenhouse and you vaguely wondered how you were going to deal with the Lion. On top of it all, you wondered how Malleus or the other Housewardens would react to the Lion's brazen behavior.

~•§•~

Deep thunder rolled overhead outside the Diasomnia dorm, cracking with green lightning. The dour prince of Briar Valley watched through his magestone as the Nemean Lion carried the Human away to the Greenhouse. If it were up to him, he would teleport straight there and take his precious treasure away from the problematic Lion. But it wasn't up to him.

He agreed to allow this Lion to guard his most treasured Hoard member, but even then he was not happy with the arrangement. It told the Dragon that he needed to work even harder to befriend the Hellcat kit as it was clear his Human valued the small fur-ball's input. Still, he kept his ears perked for when his treasure called for his aid and he would stay back until that moment... Or until that Lion tried anything more than cuddling.

Malleus was still infuriated to know that his most prized treasure was in the claws of that loose and lazy Lion. Even Lilia had not bothered to berate the Dragon for skipping his classes, well aware that the temperamental Fae was going to spend most of the week watching his prized treasure. From the magestone he inherited, the Dragon watched and waited in constant alert for any sign of extreme discomfort.

~•§•~

You sighed again as the Lion lay his head on your stomach, Little Grim having hesitantly allowed the golden beast to snuggle him. So long as little Grim was content enough with Leona, you wouldn't argue against the Lion's actions. At least the quiet gave you time to think about what steps you were going to take next.

It had become a waiting game for you, to wait until the Human ghosts found you a way home. Until then, you had to keep playing the interests of the monster men to your advantage and make sure you could keep Grim close. If a way out was presented, you would take it and make sure to take your little kit with you.

While you were lost in thought, a specific sound met your ears; sniffing.

The sound reminded you far too much of the Wolves and you felt yourself becoming more stressed as it drew closer. Your sudden stiffness and increased heart-rate did not go unnoticed as Leona's ears began to angle around before pointing the general direction of the sniffing. It was odd as you had believed Leona was sleeping, but you felt thankful that at least it was a Housewarden with you.

As the sound came closer, you heard an accompanying flop sound every so often, like something heavy being dragged. Leona actually sat up, setting Grim- who he had been cuddling- on your stomach and moving so the two of you were behind him and somewhat beneath the overhanging bushes. The Lion stared intensely as a grey muzzle of what could only be described as a squished and oddly noseless Wolf snout parted the reeds on the other side of the path sniffing and snorting loudly. What you thought was a muzzle without a nose quickly became clear when the nostrils of the beast flared above the drawn back lips of a snarling creature. Before you could scream, the plants were thrown to the side and a familiar coated giant seal could be seen, glaring with bright silvery-blue eyes at the Lion.

What surprised you was how immediately terrified Leona had become. This was a man you saw go toe to toe with a pack of Wolves and still manage to triumphantly sneer at them. His fear put you on extreme edge despite the semi-familiar look of the seal.

"... Leona?"

You whimpered out, holding a frightened and silently shaking Grim close to your chest.

Leona was unable to respond as a more than familiar voice growled out.

"You dare take my Pup before she could attend my class? Insolent little Lion!"

The fear worming inside of you melted into complete surprise as you realized just what the identity of the creature before you was. In some respects, you should have known from your own knowledge of the Selkies of your world that Divus would have a seal form. You just didn't expect to see it or the fact that he was enormous compared to most seals.

"GO BACK TO CLASS!"

~•§•~

The rather arduous day had finally come to an end as you stood now in the Savanaclaw dorm kitchen and let the day wind down to the night. The dorm was beautiful and clearly meant to mimic a more savana type setting, which Leona and Ruggie fit into far too easily. Jack stood out among the many sandy-brown and earthen colored pelts, his white snowy fur almost gleaming even in the lower light of the evening.

Divus gave Leona more than just a talking to and actually managed to chase the Lion up a tree. It was almost comical to watch how stressed Leona was in response to the Selkie and you vaguely wondered why a supposedly impervious Lion would be so terrified of a seal out of water. Granted, Divus was far larger in his seal form than he was in his Humanoid form, but it certainly gave more credit to how frightening he actually was.

Now the evening was setting in and you were faced with what they called their kitchen. You honestly hadn't expected much, seeing as none of the monster men needed to cook their food, but this was less than that. It was mostly just a pantry and fridges packed with primarily meat.

There was a place for a fire and the several racks of ribs sitting in one of the large fridges began to form an idea for what you would make. Its was going to be a meat heavy diet until you could take stock of whatever things you grabbed from Ramshackle, but Leona did tell you to use whatever you wanted in their kitchen.

There were more spices than you had expected and you began the long process of cooking up quite a bit of food, figuring you would likely have to feed at least yourself and your guards. Part of you wondered about the other dorm members and you begrudgingly decided to cook more than you planned even for your carnivore guards to eat. It was only to keep the peace as you were certain problems were going to arise from your presence alone.

Speaking of problems, it had been suspiciously quiet all evening. Leona swore to you he was going to keep an eye on Grim while you cooked and even insisted on it. The only thing that convinced you was that Grim wanted to look around the dorm. Still, for a dorm full of students it was suspiciously quiet.

~•§•~

An alluringly warm smell filled the dorm and seemed to turn every nose kitchen bound. It was rare for every member of Savanaclaw to be out all at once for so long, but the smells from the kitchen were near divine and drew in the entire group. Despite the many curious looks, none dare cross the clear threshold established by the leader of their Pride.

The sun bronzed ruler of the dorm lay in a lounging position on a stack of rocks still cooling from the afternoon sun, lazily grooming the little cat beast that sat impatiently in his arms. The ever loyal Gnoll lay directly by the mouth of the kitchen, effectively acting as a door to the delicious scents. Even the new pup Jack- who still had yet to prove himself despite his abilities in magic- somehow sat next to the two defacto leaders of the dorm.

Savanaclaw had no Vice-Housewarden as it needed no Vice-Housewarden, but it was still understood that Ruggie was the next to turn to if Leona was shirking his duties. Then there was Jack. The sophomores couldn't believe Jack of all students was selected. Most of the dorm couldn't believe they were selected at all to play host.

They figured after the way they had been accused and treated when this seemingly mythical Human got shomehow hurt, they would not have to play host. Now, as those sublime scents teased at the imagination and stomachs growled for food, it was hard to imagine such a gift going to another dorm.

Naturally, those playing in the Spelldrive Tournament were expecting the chance to get a taste of the divine smell, but the others were going to be left longing for scraps. Despite how some whined, hissed, and even growled, none had the courage to challenge the King of their pride.

Beyond just the smell of the food, the smell of the Human on Jack had drawn in many curious noses. The moment he returned was the moment several students began sniffing at his white fur. Jack was unaccustomed to such behavior from his dormmates as most just did the typical testing the new members and even fought from time to time all in good fun. This was different.

Still, so long as he was a guard he could handle the more than intrusive behavior. It was worth it to Jack. That being said, everyone was more than a little surprised at the almost sagely patience shown by the great Lion.

"But when?"

"Whenever she's done."

"When will that be?"

"Whenever it is."

"But I want it to be now."

"She's busy right now."

Grim was whining and asking questions he had already asked five times while Leona smoothed the kit's fur. Admittedly, Grim was being incredibly tolerant of the grooming behavior and it was just enough to keep Leona calm even with the questions. The other members of the dorm were stunned Leona was even tolerating the small cat-beast's presence especially with how irritating he was being.

"But why?"

"You said you wanted to look around the dorm."

"But I thought I was gonna go right back to Mama after."

"You should have clarified."

"But I want to go back to Mama."

"She's busy right now."

"How much longer?"

"As long as it needs to be."

"I don't want a bath!"

"Sucks for you. Only clean cubs get food."

"... How much longer?"

~•§•~

You sat looking out over what seemed to be an endless savana that stretched out beyond what you could see. In your lap sat a full bellied Grim who purred and lay in your affectionate arms. From what you could tell when the food finally finished and the near ravenous stares of the many students looking at the food in extreme longing, you were in for a long week.

Leona only allowed a select few to eat their fill, obviously including Ruggie and Jack, but four others you hadn't met were allowed as well. Naturally you and Grim were able to take whatever you wished and Leona made it clear to even Ruggie that you two got your food first. It threw you off a bit when- as soon as that first group had their fill- the rest was set out and descended upon by the remaining members of the dorm.

The way they ate was as if they all had been starving, yet none of them looked even close to how Ruggie had appeared when you first arrived at the school. You figured they just liked the way that the food had smelled while cooking and wanted to eat their fill. Despite the almost aggressive behavior they showed one another, none were willing to take even a sniff in your direction. Any that glanced at you were quickly sent scurrying off by Leona who glared poisonously from next to you.

Now you were winding down and sitting in Leona's room, his large bed sporting an assortment of pillows as it almost reminded you of the way a cat-bed from your world was built. You figured you would be in Leona's room, Ruggie and Jack moving blankets in as well despite Leona's grumbling about not inviting them. Your hand idly fidgeted with the magestone that hung from your neck as you found yourself surprisingly missing the overbearing Dragon and the usual faces of the Hoard.

"Oi, Mousey, get to bed. We've gotta get up early tomorrow to train for the Spelldrive, so you're getting up too. Got it?"

You looked back at Leona who was laying on his bed, tail flicking impatiently to get you to join him. It was a little odd that he expected you to join him but refused to let Jack and Ruggie. Maybe it had something to do with Nemean Lions and how they socially behaved. With a soft sigh, you carried Grim to the bed, keeping a fair distance from the Lion despite his scowl.

"You gonna cling to the edge of the bed like a frightened mouse, shivering in the cold, or are you going to come over here already?"

"Wha-?"

You gasped as Leona pulled you down to lay next to him, wrapping one muscled arm over your side and pulling the blankets up over you and Grim. He was fairly warm and the temperature in the dorm had dropped drastically with the sun, so you could tolerate his almost aggressive cuddling. In the distance, you could have sworn you heard the sound of rolling thunder.

#kiame-sama #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #reader insert #tw yandere #humans are extinct twst au

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