#I HAVE BEEN OBSESSING ABOUT THIS ALL DAY SINCE IT HAPPENED. I HAVE LOST COUNT OF THE WATCH NUMBER.

[clumsycapitolunicorn]

"Don't." "Don't what?" "Don't get dressed."

CARLA CONNOR & LISA SWAIN | CORONATION STREET

[anundyingfidelity]

heyy, how are youu? hope youre doing great!! congratss on your 400 followers 🎉!! i saw that you open a request maybe you would write a drabble for dark!soldier boy since theres not much dark fics about him and ive been craving it so badly. please and thank youu!! 💓💓

hellooo, i am doing good! thANK YOU SO MUCH! absoutely i will! since there's no specific details i just went with it for a dark!soldier boy drabble with a mix of stuff. i hope you like this one! :)

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CRUEL INTENTIONS — Dark!Soldier Boy x female reader

Word count: 590 (oops).

Genre: dark stuff, smut.

Warnings: dark!soldier boy, dub-con, p in v smut, mentions of pain, dacryphilia, innocent!reader, corruption, degradation, soldier boy is obsessed with reader.

Since the first time he saw you around the Vought building, Soldier Boy knew he had to have you. No matter what. Having you under his mercy was his ultimate goal.

You were a new secretary around. So innocent, so pure, and full of life and joy, getting into the supe business making boring tasks and jobs designated to women like you. But Soldier Boy saw you enjoying all of that. You always arrived early to work, with a smile that would brighten the day of any idiot by your side. Your laugh was sweet and perfectly created to be ruined, only by him. To your lovely voice to be converted into pleas and cries.

After days of not so subtly hitting on you, playing the nice gentleman, he had you under his skin using lies and a couple of threats. Soldier Boy remembered the way you accepted his invitation to his annual ��private party’ without specifying any further details. The party that was Herogasm. And now, he fucked you into oblivion over a rustic wood desk, taking in the tightness of your cunt around his dick and the sinful moans slipping from your sore throat. His eyes taking in the sinful sight of his cock entering your tight pussy, walls clenching around him yet again as you reached your peak. Soldier Boy already lost count of how many times he had made you cum.

“Fuck, you’re so good for me,” he hissed. His thrusts never stopped, instead increased their rhythm. “Look how much you’ve come because of my cock. Am I that good, my little slut?”

You looked away, shutting your eyes closed as you felt another orgasm building inside you, pleading with a broken voice. “Please, please…”

The tears were already coating your flushed face, ashamed of what was happening and not sure if it was right. He was just using you. But at the same time, you wanted more of him. Soldier Boy already bent you over every surface of the room, ripping orgasm after orgasm from you, handling you like if you were just a mere ragdoll for him to play with as much as he wanted, taking you apart from the whole orgy that was showing outside. He was fucking insatiable, barely getting rid of his helmet and just taking out his hard cock to fuck your mouth and then get buried inside your tight cunt. At first, you weren’t sure about letting him fuck his way with you, but his voice and promises of pleasure were more than sufficient to somehow give in.

“Jesus Christ, your pussy feels like heaven,” he breathed, increasing the tightness of his grip on your hips.

Even if your thighs felt like burning, that your whole body was under ache due to the hard grips on you, you needed him. And he was going to make you his little plaything. He smirked as you, one more time, dissolved into the sweet and painful pleasure of cuming around his girth, letting out a sinful moan that mingled with the animalistic sounds of women and men fucking like beasts outside the room. He hissed with anticipation, his lustful eyes lingering over your teary face as he slowed down his thrusts. Fuck, he wanted nothing more but to make you cry harder.

“Sweetheart, I still need to cum,” he purred, wiping the tears rolling down your skin.

You sobbed, catching your breath. “I’m tired.”

 “Just a couple more rounds, you’ll do it, baby.”

Soldier Boy was being kind to you. Next time he wouldn’t go that easy.

[soapsbaby]

Friends with Benefits

Kinktober IV

Summary: How a friends with benefits relationship would go with them. Characters: Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” Mactavish, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, John Price, König, Alejandro Vargas, Rudy Vargas, Valeria Garza, all x gn!reader Rating: NSFW (mdni) Word Count: 1200ish

Ghost

In the beginning it was a lot more “benefits” than it was “friends”. He had a lot of issues to let you in any further than just sleeping with you. 

You were an outlet for frustration and he was entirely honest about that and made sure you didn't feel used or led on.

It took a while but eventually you were able to spend the night, he started calling you when he needed company and eventually he even opened up to you a little and you finally got to understand why he acts the way he does.

He’s a very attentive lover and now that he has a closer bond with you, also an incredible friend. He is always there to listen, even if he often doesn’t know what advice to give you.

Often calls you over late at night or right after returning from missions, just needing a way to blow off steam. He tends to be a little rough with you, but only with your consent.

He isn’t interested in any relationship or attachments so he is quite happy with your arrangement. 

Soap

You and Johnny had been friends for super long before you eventually got closer to him. It was just supposed to be a sleepover so you could binge some horror movies together, but at some point his hand had ended up on your thighs, then you had ended up in his lap and the moment you started kissing you both knew it was over. 

Except for having sex not much has changed between the two of you, most of your hookups still happen during movie nights or other friendship hangouts that you would have had before starting to sleep together.

It’s becoming a problem when people start asking questions since neither of you pay any attention to the movies you’re supposed to be watching. “Oh, you watched (...) on the weekend, right?? How was it?” “Uh… Good… I think.” 

You are so casual and comfortable with each other that there was never really a phase of awkwardness between you two, it just felt natural. 

He honestly doesn't care if anyone finds out, is the type to pull you into a supply closet for a quickie.

Price

You are both very happy with the arrangement, even though except for missing full commitment you are basically in a relationship. 

He will always make sure you know you are taken care of and that you know how much he appreciates you, take you out for dinner or cook for you, get you gifts. 

Compared to the others, your relationship is a little more mature and less impulsive, you had been friends for a long while, tried to date but didn’t quite work out. Still, you both had to admit you enjoyed having sex with one another, so you just decided to go back to that part. 

He’ll check in with you often to make sure you are still happy with the situation and it is understood that if either of you ever find a serious relationship you’ll have to stop.

He likes to make sure he has his time with you, whenever you have a "date" he wants to have the whole day off.

Gaz

It was supposed to be just a friends with benefits situation but failed almost immediately. You both tried so hard to keep it casual but it was a lost cause from the first time. 

Gaz used to have hookups quite often when off duty, but now that he has you, he doesn’t really want or need that anymore. He doesn’t want to admit it to himself, let alone you, but he’s kind of obsessed with you.

At this point you are spending so much time at each other’s places that you might as well move in, but both of you are afraid to suggest taking the next step because that is not what we agreed on.

He is so sweet, always taking his time with you, making sure you are the priority and that you feel well taken care of.

So good at giving oral.

König

You’re one of the few people from his past that he is still in contact with and though you don’t get to see him often, it’s a good time whenever you do.

It’s good for him to have someone from his childhood that can give him a reality check and make sure he doesn’t forget where he came from when he needs it.

He isn’t the best at communicating, which your situation requires a lot of, so you run into problems at times. You don’t see each other often, most of the time there is a lot of distance dividing you, plus the time zones, so there is a lot to be navigated.

He likes and appreciates you a lot though, so you make it work somehow.

Most of the time he is super gentle with you and will do whatever it takes to make sure you finish first, however there have been situations where he just needed to use you to get some negative emotions out of his system after a failed mission.

Alejandro 

He always said he wasn’t one for casual sex, that he was made for relationships, but he had to learn that that just isn’t fully true. Once you and him started sleeping together he had to realize how convenient it was to have someone to help him have his needs met without the responsibilities that come with actual relationships.

He’s a great lover, extremely attentive, very loving, and skillful at what he does. He’d never be selfish and only get himself off.

Rudy

You have been friends with benefits for as long as you can remember, so the communication between the two of you is great since you just know each other so well.

It started when you were joking around with him after a bad date how dating around wasn't worth it just to have mediocre sex with people you barey liked and he got competetive about it.

"Bet I could do better." (He in fact could and did do better)

You don’t sleep with each other that often, just once every few months when you both feel like it. Most of the time when you hang out, things stay strictly platonic, that is just the way things work out for you.

Valeria

She doesn’t have many friends that she can actually trust, so she was terrified to push your relationship any further than a friendship. She didn’t want to risk losing you, one of the few people who knew her before the army, before the cartel. 

Still, one thing led to another and she’d never want to go back to before. She knows you might not fully support her work in the cartel, but that you still feel nothing but loyalty for her.

She doesn’t have time for an actual relationship and also wouldn’t want to put someone in danger of getting caught up in the crossfire of cartel dealings, so you being fairly low-commitment for her is ideal.

She can be a bit of a selfish lover, but you adore pleasuring her, so it all works out in the end.

[dilfartist]

Selfish

Pairing; Yandere Leon Kennedy x reader

Synopsis; You escape your captor during one of his many missions. You stop by a diner searching for help. What will happen next? Find out by reading

Word count; 3.8K

TW; Kidnapping, non-con touching, Stockholm syndrome, maybe just a tad bit ooc, Yandere (obviously), obsessive behavior, cussing.

Notes; hopefully you enjoy reading. It’s not the best since I’m still maturing as a writer and because of my hiatus; but I hope you enjoy.

!Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!

Sapphire-embellished twilight transitions into dawn’s light blue hue bringing alongside the sun. Birds sang good morning to one another, on their side of the forest. You ambled down the road that ceased the strong odored forest from connecting.

You stared at the endless road up ahead. Night to morning, ahead of you was forest and road. Perhaps this reason is why your captor moved into the isolated forest since raccoon city incident.

Or maybe he wanted to live a life of normalcy given the opportunity; the monsters he claimed he fought, seemingly every month, stressed him greatly and you noticed. Plus, he mentioned he needed a vacation frequently.

You pause, double-checking onward on the ostensibly never-ending road. Was your hard work a waste of time?

Looking back on the way he treated you, you pondered if it would have been smarter to stay home. Most days he wasn't overbearing. Once in a while, he’d annoy you, other than that he was tolerable. Besides being unable to leave the house unattended and having no say in choices at times, he gave you more freedom than most.

But then you remember the day before. At the crack of dawn, he’d left for a mission: bidding you goodbye with a note and breakfast at your night table side. You were left all alone, so naturally you sought a form of entertainment.

The television; Which was your only option.

You were clicking through the television channels when you came across a crime documentary. The story was similar to your personal life so you continued to watch the channel.

The story was about a woman, age twenty-three, who was kidnapped for around four years. During her kidnapping, she fell deeply in love with her kidnapper to the point they had to detach her from the cop car when they arrested him.

In your situation, you’ve been abducted for at least eight months. Her situation only took a year till she developed Stockholm syndrome.

Clarified by the show as the psychological condition of a victim who identifies with and empathizes with their captor or abuser and their goals.

Learning this information a thought came to mind.

Would you become like her once it hits New Year's? Loyal to a man that took you away from society. No. You refused to allow the same situation to happen to you.

You’d never allow it to happen.

When it came to the relationship your captor so desperately longed for with you, you caused many difficulties to prevent any form of romance.

Any attempt at affection had him pushed away or smacked. Discussion about the past before your absconding was simply ignored. And in general, you kept your distance from him. Well, at least you tried to. He stays at your hip like a lost puppy majority of the time he has off work, talking your ear off. There was no way in hell you’d fall for him. Not after the months you spent in that isolated house.

Regardless of how certain you were, you mulled over it some more. You finally concluded running. So far, you felt regret and relief.

Out of nowhere, a loud reverberating sound of a car grew closer, arising behind you. You quickly spun around to see what the sound originated from.

The engine growled, sending a ping of fright to your heart. You spent no time thinking about Leon’s reaction to your escape. However, now your mind consumes thoughts of his response.

Could your captor's fury be so robust that the car in the distance embodied his rage? Knowing him since your best friend introduced you to the man becoming a rookie cop in raccoon city; you’ve never seen him enrage.

From time to time his witty replies and mean scowl would showcase his anger. Of course, that didn't mean his rage wasn't feasible. But never had you ever witnessed a stronger emotion from him.

Inching closer, you were able to discern the details of the car. It was a massive black car, with tinted windows. A car your captor might arrive home with after a mission. It announced its presence with its vociferous roaring.

You observe with dread blooming in the pit of your stomach, every other part of your body tingled.

Although the person driving the car was yet to be revealed, you were petrified, stuck in place like you had been glued onto the concrete below you.

It must be him.

Why else would they be heading so fast toward you?

Already, you’re willing to surrender. Your captor is a forgiving person when it comes to you, so there’s a likelihood he’ll forgive you if you cooperate.

Standing on the side of the road, you acquiescently wait for the car to stop. Waiting for him to take you back to your prison.

The car slows but even then it's at a fast pace. The car passes you momentarily. Slightly it reverses until the passenger window is in front of you. Unhurriedly, the shadowy window rolls down. In the driver's seat, instead of who you believed it to be, it was a woman.

She looked to be in her middle thirties. She wore black sunglasses in her strawberry-blonde hair, a red blouse with denim jeans. Her makeup reminded you of Jennifer Tilly in Bride of Chucky, but she wore a sweet smile.

“Oh my lord, are you alright darling?” The woman asked like you were a child outside without a jacket in the freezing winter.

You continued to stare at her. You wanted to say something, but your throat felt drier than sandpaper. You opened your mouth, wheezing a bit as you sipped the fresh air. “I don't know,” you responded as loud as you possibly could. So barely above a whisper.

“Do you know where you are?”

“No.”

“Are you safe?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

The woman shook her head disapprovingly, then she began to throw whatever laid in the passenger seat into the backseats. “Come on sugar, get inside. I’ll give you a ride.”

“Okay, thank you.”

She reached over and pushed the passenger door open. You entered the vehicle, settled in, and got comfy. You buckled in making sure you heard the reassuring click.

“There you go,” she commented with a smile. “Now, we're going to make a stop by a gas station, then we’ll find out what we can do with you. Is that alright?

You smiled back, “Yeah, I don't mind.”

The car began to ride forward and the air conditioning blew on your overheated body. You relished the cold air. You hadn't realized how hot it had been outside, even in the early morning. Where were you?

You put that thought aside. Now you needed to worry about something to drink and eat.

“Do you…have anything to drink or eat?” you glanced at the woman.

She nodded. “Of course sweety! Why didn't I offer before?” she looked away from the street to grab a half-empty bottle of water from the side of the driver's door. “Sorry, that's the only drink I have at the moment.” she apologizes.

Without a second thought, you unscrewed the cap off the water and chugged the water. Water had never tasted so refreshing before. It was like you’d been roaming in the desert for hours on end and finally found a source of water.

The woman glances at you. You must have looked crazy. “How long have you been out there?”

“Since eight last night.” You sounded better. No more raspy voice that hurts you to speak. “I should have packed a bag but something came up.”

Before you left the house last night, you weren't in your right mind. Your captor never gave you an exact time he’d be home. His return ranged between the eight at night, the dead of night, the crack of dawn, or the morning. Recently, he’d been arriving home at eight. Which is the reason you left with nothing. Looking back, you had no confidence in yourself at getting away. You believed you were going to be caught in a matter of ten minutes. Now look at you.

You turned to the woman, “Thanks…” She finishes the sentence with her name. “Amanda.” You nod rephrasing your sentence, “Thanks Amanda for picking me up.”

Amanda smiles again, this time wider showing off her pearly white teeth. “I couldn't just leave you out there. Now, what’s your name?”

You tell her your name and hope she somehow knows it. Maybe the news reported you missing when you weren’t watching. You hoped so.

Rather than freaking out, realizing she had found a missing person, she simply responded with a “nice to meet you.” You died a little at the rejoinder.

Did no one care enough to report your absence? Not your family or close friends, no one attempted to reach out to the police?

No. You’re just overthinking. Not everyone watches the news or actively looks for missing people. You just had to be around more people. Someone was bound to know your identity.

Still, you can’t ignore the way your hands shake at the thought of being forgotten.

“So what were you out there for? If you don’t mind sharing that is.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. What were you to say? Tell her the truth and find out she was with your captor the whole time or keep your mouth shut and have no help in case he does find you.

A white lie would help.

“Escaping my abusive boyfriend.”

A frown pulled at the woman’s plump lips, her eyebrows scrunching together at your answer. “Do I need to the cops, family members?”

“No,” you responded quickly and harshly. The car fell silent. You took a small breather before speaking. “No, thank you.”

“Please, tell me, is there anything else I can do to help you any further?”

You needed cash, shelter, and a job. There was only one thing you were sure she could help you with. “ I need money and a hotel.”

“Don't worry, I got you covered,” she said softly.

The car began to slow when she placed her foot on the break. She turned the car and moved into a spot that contained a combination of a gas station and an old fashion diner. She parked the car next to a gas pump, then powered it off.

She dug into the middle counsel, pushing around pens and important items, and pulled out a pink wallet. She unzipped the front zipper and pulled out some money.

Amanda held the cash out to you, “Here’s 100 dollars. There's enough for lasting food, a hotel to stay, and a bus.”

You unbuckle your seatbelt just to hug her tightly. “Thank you!” you repeat over and over, like an unanswered prayer. She returned the hug, telling you she didn't mind lending you some service. The hug ended and you needed to plan your next move. What would you spend your money on first?

Well, all you knew was what you’d spend what was given to you on something important.

You looked out the window. Your eyes shift toward the diner. Mo’s dinner was on the sign, “been here since the ’50s.” which was written below.

Right. Food. You haven't eaten since yesterday. Walking as long as you did, you tried to forget your hunger and focus on the main goal of finding shelter or at least some safety.

“I think I’ll have myself a hot breakfast!” you announced. Amanda unlocked the passenger door, “go right ahead. Enjoy your freedom.” You nod, fleeing the car akin to a little kid whose mother gave them money for an ice cream from the ice cream truck.

The entrance bell chimes when you open the door to the cream-colored establishment. Once inside, you settled yourself in a booth in the far back. An old jukebox plays aged music ranging from the 70s to the ’50. Besides you, there was a single person in the restaurant. A man at the bar sipping his morning coffee whilst reading the newspaper.

You extend your arm over to the menu across the table. The menu displays numerous appetizing dishes, varying from breakfast to a juicy steak dinner.

Flipping the page your eyes landed on a mouthwatering breakfast sandwich, including bacon, egg, and cheese.

“Hello ma’am, I’m Stephanie, I’ll be serving you this morning. What would you like?”

You placed the menu aside to give the waitress your whole attention. The woman was of average height, wearing a pink uniform that reminded you of the 50s. She wore a smile that did not reach her black doe eyes. “Did you hear any of that?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” you said sincerely, feeling anxious about possibly pissing her off. “Could I have a number six and a sweet tea?”

“Of course, is that it?”

“Umm…yeah, that’s it.”

“Alright then,” she replied disinterestedly. She left quickly, retreating to the kitchen.

You continue gazing at the closed door to the kitchen. What else could you do? You should have brought along something to entertain you, then again there wasn't much back at the house you called a jail cell. For the remainder of the waiting duration, you’d have your thoughts to amuse your lethargy.

Ding Ding

Instinctively, your head turned. 50s music began to fade, superseded by the loud thumping of your heart. Your breathing became shaky, parallel to your hands. Dirty blonde hair is what you see first. It’s him! You repeat in your head, like a religious prayer.

“Jessica, hey!” you heard a joyous exclamation. You watch as the man from the bar rushes over to the person entering the restaurant. Your anxiety left as quickly as it came. A hand places itself onto your cheat, and on the spot your heart thumped rapidly. You had to calm down. You took deep breaths, and your heart slowed with each sip of air. You rest your head on the table.

After taking the time to calm yourself, you analyzed the restaurant furthermore. Now, the place was vacant, since the man had left. Fifteen minutes passed and you found a newspaper from the newspaper rack adjacent to the front entrance.

Nothing in the article was new to you. At your captor’s home, you watched the news almost once a week to see if anyone had reported your disappearance. Nothing ever came up though. At least you were up to date with everything going on.

Your waitress finally returned, carrying your meal on a maroon-colored tray in her left hand. “Sorry for the wait, ma’am. Kitchen malfunction.” she apologized, giving you a guileless smile. This would be the only expression besides tedium that you’d receive from her.

“It's alright,” you said, watching as she placed the food on the table for you to dig into. She left carrying the tray back to the kitchen she emerged from.

You took a bite of the sandwich, chewing slowly to savor the flavor. Juicy and delicious are solely vivid words to illustrate the taste. The egg had a spongy texture that combines well with melted cheese. And the hickory bacon wasn’t too crispy or chewy, it was simply perfect.

Back at the prison, your captor wasn't the best cook. But he tried to be for you. Still, you preferred takeout. Chinese, Italian, and burgers began to become a boring taste on your taste buds. Having a breakfast sandwich was refreshing, to say the least.

“Enjoying your meal, huh?” rough voice inquiries. The question was said cockily but their wrath was audible in the way the last word was spoken.

You stop mid-chew, the overwhelming flavor vanishing from your mind. It now tasted bland. You kept your eyes shut. Were you afraid? No. Afraid couldn't explain the ineffable amount of dread you felt at the moment. Ruffling could be heard on the opposite side of the table; He was sitting down. Your eyes open involuntarily like your body already knew what he wanted it to do.

Across the table, seating snugly is your captor; Leon Kennedy. He looks rougher than the last time you’ve spoken. The dark circle underneath his eye has grown darker. His brunette roots have begun peaking out ruining his natural blonde facade. And he looked exhausted. Must have stayed up all night looking for you.

He looked more than pissed. He appeared disgruntled. Compared to Leon, you were small. But now, Leon was like a giant towering over you. Despite never abusing you in any shape or form, your body shakes like a leaf in the wind. The way he glares down at you drives you to shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“Do you know how long I've been up for, y/n?” he asks whilst pulling out a flask from his jacket pocket.

Regardless of how parched you are, you force yourself to converse with him. “No,” you're voice is brisk and faint.

“Two days. For two days I’ve been on my feet.” He takes a swig of the flask and then continues to rant. “I could have joined you in bed and fallen asleep, but there was a problem. You weren't anywhere.”

He shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What the hell is the matter with you? You could have gotten hurt. You probably are.”

Leon is getting angrier, you can tell by the way the furrowed eyebrows deepen and his frown morphs into a glower, as he utters each sentence.

“I’m sorry.” That's all you can say. It's all that comes to mind.

“Sorry won’t make up for the scars you've gotten.” he retorts angrily.

Now you're mirroring his expression. You’re angry and tired as well. Definitely not as tired as him but still tired. “You’re acting as if I didn't have a good reason to run.” you petulantly cross your arms, akin to a child not getting a toy from the store.

Leon wasn’t delusional. Back in the day, when he was a rookie cop, in some aspects he was delusional. However, as the years continue to pass so does his past self. Leon understands what he has done to you is inhumane, but he can’t help it. He kept you locked away for a reason. You won’t get hurt with him by your side.

Leon sighs, closing his eyes and leaning closer with his forearms on the table. “I know, I know.”

You tilt your head, “really? So, why are you mad at me?”

His eyes open, displaying icy-blue orbs. They hold Empathy in them. Empathy Leon has a difficult time communicating to you.

“I keep you in the house for your safety.” He began, taking your hands into his own. “To keep our relationship safe.”

“But I don’t want a relationship with you.”

“I know.”

“So why are you forcing me to stay with you?!”

Leon’s hands squeezed yours, provoking a cry out of you. “All my life I’ve been a generous man. I saved many and gave up my life for others. I’m always providing for someone else and rarely caring for myself. And the one thing I yearn for to the point I was convinced I deserved it. It was you.”

For a beat, he ceases his gabbing. Leon stares down at your connected hands, his thumb starts rubbing against the back of your hand. It’s a domestic act that earns your displeasure.

“For once, allow me to be selfish,” he mumbles, eyes slowly trailing up to meet yours. His lips press your hand, giving it a chaste kiss. “You’re the only thing I’ll fight to keep for myself.”

Part of you wishes the relationship was normal. Leon truly did care for you, and you still cared for him, But he did something unforgiving. He took away your free will.

“...you can’t just steal a person, Leon. You can’t expect me to love you.”

“I don’t.”

“So why won’t you let me go? You still have Ada, don’t you? You were more into her than me. Why isn’t she in my position?”

“Because I love you, not her. You haven't betrayed me. Well, not until now.” he jokes, letting out a faint chuckle.

Leon pulls out his wallet, his fingers sliding through the pockets to find his card. “Wrap your food up. We’re leaving.” he puts his wallet back in his back pocket, “Be right back. Stay here.” he commanded sternly.

The waitress is at the bar, cleaning the counter with a blue rag. Leon approaches her with an “Excuse me.”

Leon put too much faith in you because you were on your feet immediately when his back was turned. You quietly inched towards the door and ever so slowly dragged the door inwards. Leon was distracted, the waitress deciding she’d flirt with him despite seeing you and him together. You manage to slip through the door before Leon notices your second escape attempt.

You bolt out the door when you hear the enraged roar of your name from behind. You grip the railing to the stairs, running down them, tripping a couple of times. You don’t look but you know Leon’s on your tail. The door slams against the wall, the bell ringing loudly.

“Y/n, get back here!”

Amanda’s car was still parked by the gas pump. You sprint towards it, slipping through the tight space of the car and the gas pump. Luckily for you, Amanda was in the car, applying her strawberry-pink lipstick.

“Amanda!” you shout, startling her enough that she drags the lipstick across her cheek. She shouts, frightened by your sudden appearance. She looks at you, like you're crazy. She says your name to clarify the person at her window, “What are you doing.”

You shake your head, “yo-you gotta help me, he-” you say breathlessly.

“Hey, Amanda.” you hear Leon’s voice call out. Unlike you, he isn’t out of breath. Thanks to his military training. Amanda peeks her head out the window, she smiles waving at Leon. “Hey, Lee!”

Your eyes widen till it’s physically impossible to widen anymore. She knows Leon. Your body feels numb as you watch them interact like old friends. You feel like you aren’t real at the moment. Like you're watching the scene unfold outside your body.

“Sorry, she just came back from the hospital. She isn’t in her right mind right now.” Leon excuses, leading you to his car like a shepherd's dog guiding the sheep to its pen.

Amanda nods as she understands completely. “No worries, I’m just glad I found her before she hurt herself.”

Leon puts you in the passenger seat and closes the vehicle door. The keys lock the door from the inside, so you are left choiceless.

Leon joins you in the driver’s seat, definitely too angered to chide you. He seethed quietly, powering on the engine with the quick twist of the car keys.

Wordlessly, you buckle up. You wouldn’t make an endeavor to anger Leon any further.

You’d allow him to be selfish. Allow him to have you.

What other option did you have now?

[syluscore]

Cameras Pt. 2

~Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader~

Word count combined for both parts one and two: 8277

PART ONE

Content warnings: smut, sexual content, breaking n entering, stalker leon, obsessed leon, dirty talk, degradation, praise, grinding, slapping, spitting, choking, hair pulling, biting, aggressive sex, very brief mention of wanting to slice reader open and climb inside her, lots of begging, blowjob, throat fucking, taking pictures during sex, fingering, p in v sex, creampie

!!!!!!MINORS DNI! GHOSTKENNEDY IS STRICTLY 18+!!!!!!

The water for your shower had been running for a few minutes now, but as you sat on the toilet seat, your mind was elsewhere. Jumbled thoughts and random flashbacks to the past 2 days were consuming you. You’d been home for two hours now and had yet to do anything at all besides think and think. But you had to shower and probably eat something eventually so you opened your phone and connected to your Bluetooth speaker, allowing your brain to get lost in the music. Maybe music could chase the thoughts away, maybe you could have a few minutes of peace.

You stepped underneath the hot water and let out a deep sigh. You let the water wash over your body and focus on the lyrics of the song blaring through the speaker. Slowly washing your body as you swayed to the music. You found yourself mumbling along to the lyrics of the song as you ran shampoo through your hair. All that mattered right now was the music and washing yourself. You’d never taken such a serene fucking shower, but things had gotten weird since what you’d discovered about Leon.

Leon. So much for sweet inner peace. You weren’t any closer to knowing what you were going to do about him. How could you even show your face around the office knowing he’s there? You can’t manage to force yourself to forget about him and trust me when I say you’ve tried. You’ve desperately tried to push the fresh memories to the back of your mind. As time goes on, perhaps you could forget about what happened; or at the very least the memories could become hazy and your brain wouldn’t be plagued with replays of Leon and his cock. How do you forget a cock like that? Now you’re thinking about his cock again. You’re supposed to not be thinking about his cock. Stop thinking about his cock!

You finished washing yourself off and stepped out of the shower, wrapping yourself up snugly in a towel. You wiped the fog off the mirror and stared into your reflection. Why was this happening to you of all people? Maybe it wasn’t you specifically after all. It could just be a thing for Leon. He picks someone to obsess over until he’s bored and then moves onto the next fixation. He definitely knew what he was doing with the obsessive stalker shit. He could eventually move on and then you could move on as well. Now that you know about him, he could lose interest in you. 

God, you really hoped that wasn’t the case. You hope that isn’t the case? Why the fuck would you hope that’s not the case? This isn’t healthy at all. You hate the way the whole situation is making you feel. Well, hate is a very strong word and Leon doesn’t deserve to be associated with such a word. Uncomfortable? Nerve racking? Uneasy, tense, disturbed? You couldn’t think of a word to describe it. Exhilarating? Intoxicating? Maybe you loved it. Maybe a part of you hated it and the other part, a much bigger part, absolutely loved it in every way. Nobody or anything had ever been so devoted to you. Infatuated with you.

You’re one mentally ill human being. You shook the thoughts from your head as you made your way out of the bathroom. Dinner and some good sleep should help clear your mind. Your thoughts could be factory reset by the morning and you’ll be able to go about your day as if everything is normal. Welcome to the state of Denial, you’ve officially entered. Enjoy your stay with us and please come again. You’re losing your mind, you’ve gone mad. 

Upon entering your living room, you came to an abrupt halt. Your heart felt like it almost fell out of your ass and your muscles all tensed up as if preparing for impact. “What the fuck?” you yelled out, “What are you, the fucking cat whisperer?” The man on your couch just chuckled, not even looking up from the book in his hands. One of your cats was cuddled up against his leg and your other cat was on the back of the couch cuddled into his opposing shoulder. “What are you doing here? Is that my book?” you asked Leon.

He shut the book and laid it down on the other cushion on the couch. He looked up at you and replied, “You should really read the next chapter, things are really starting to heat up.” He talked so casually, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. All you could do was stand in place staring at him, eyebrows furrowed together. You didn’t know what to say, what to do, what to make of this situation. “How was your shower?”

You cocked an eyebrow, “Good. What are you doing here?” 

“We have things to discuss,” he motioned for you to come closer to him, but you refused to move. “Come. Here,” he demanded and you shook your head at him.

“You couldn’t knock?”

“Why would I knock when you know I can just come in? Sounds like a waste of time to me.”

“Because you don’t live here! You could be a nice guy and respect boundaries, although it’s obvious you aren’t very good at that,” you shot him a dirty look and all he did was laugh. Comes into your place unannounced, scares the shit out of you, and he has the audacity to laugh at you. You two stared right at each other. An unspoken staring contest taking place between the two of you. You broke eye contact and sighed, slowly making your way over to sit next to him on the couch.

Leon had other plans, quickly darting his arms out to intercept you. He easily maneuvered you to straddle his thighs, causing you to let out an embarrassing shriek. 

“Leon, what the fuck? I’m basically naked! Let me go,” you exclaimed and tried to pull away from him, but he just held onto you tighter. He wrapped his hands around your back and pulled you even closer to him.

“Oh wow, I thought you were fully dressed under your towel. My mistake,” he smirked as you gave him the deadliest stare you could muster with flushed cheeks. “Have you gone all shy on me? But you displayed everything so nicely for me in those photos,” which caused you to avert your eyes away from him, staring at the cushion underneath you.

He grabbed your chin and brought your face back up to his and you couldn’t help but finally take in his appearance. He was wearing a button up shirt with the top few buttons undone, exposing the light hair on his chest. The sleeves were pushed up above his elbows, extenuating his huge biceps. He could wrap that bicep around your throat, slowly drain the life from you and you’d die a happy little content slut.

You brought your eyes back up to meet his, but his eyes were wandering elsewhere. His eyes looked across your exposed collarbones, down your arms, exploring the valley of your exposed thighs on either side of him. His eyes devoured you in a way that sent chills down your spine.

He finally met your gaze and you didn’t give yourself time to think before your right hand was raising up to his cheek, gently rubbing it. “You’re a fucking creep,” you said, your eyes never leaving his. Both your hands tangled up into his dirty blond hair as you continued, “What kind of a person breaks into someone’s house and jerks off with their panties? You’re a freak of nature. They should study people like you. What’s wrong with you?” He ground his hips up into you and you could feel his hard cock rubbing against you.

You pulled his hair as he brought his mouth to your ear, nibbling gently on the lobe. You had to fight back the moan that threatened to spill past your lips. He brought his mouth right up against your ear and spoke, “What kind of slut gets turned on by such behavior, huh?” You slowly start grinding yourself against his jeans, your exposed cunt making contact with his covered cock. You pulled your hands away from him, causing him to pull his mouth away from your ear and lean back so he could look at you.

You don’t know what came over you, but you pulled your dominant hand and slapped him as hard as you could across his face. “Anyone turned on by what you do is fucking deluded,” you told him as his hands pushed your towel up past your hips. His hands gripped so tightly into your hips you knew there’d be marks. You felt like your pelvis might snap in half between the pressure of his hands, but fuck did it make you so uncontrollably wet. 

“What was I supposed to do? The second I laid my eyes on you I couldn’t think of anything fucking else. I was jerking my cock what seemed like every hour for weeks after meeting you. I tried to stay away, but I couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted to slice you open, climb inside your body, and fucking live there. But I obviously can’t do that, so I climbed inside your house, surrounding myself with your things, learned everything there was to know about you, so at the very fucking least I could be inside your mind,” he said as you two grinded into each other like your lives depending on it.

He continued, “I watched you install your stupid cameras and do you think I gave a shit? I put on a show for you so that I could overtake your fucking mind like you did mine. I’ve been watching you for so long, I knew you were a depraved, needy whore. I knew if I showed you the truth it’d make your little pussy wet. You were made for me, fuck, just look at you.” He grabbed the back of your hair and yanked your head back. You couldn't contain it anymore, his words working you up more than you could stand.

Whimpers, gasps, pants, moans, sounds you’d never made before in your life were falling from your lips as you continued getting that sweet friction against your weeping cunt. His hand left your hair and pulled your towel completely off, baring you completely before him. He took one of nipples into his mouth and sucked intensely, like he was a dying man and the only thing keeping him alive was his mouth on your body.

As he sucked on your breast, his eyes rose and stared back into yours. This sudden urge came over you and you let saliva pool in your mouth before spitting it out on his cheek. He stopped the assault on your breast and looked at you with a shocked expression on his face, trying to comprehend what you had just done to him. “You disgust me,” you said before he quickly wrapped his hand around your throat, completely cutting off your air. 

Your hand quickly shot up and gripped onto his. You weren’t trying to pull his hand away, oh no, you held his grip tighter. Your reflexes were kicking in, your mouth fell open as your lungs tried to suck in any air they could. Your eyes were rolling into the back of your head, but that didn’t stop you from feeling Leon spit right into your open mouth.

“Fucking look at you taking whatever I’ll give you. You’re a filthy whore and you can’t even help it. You sit here and call me all sorts of names because you love my obsession with you,” he spoke as your face felt on fire and numb at the same time. He let go of your throat and you began to greedily suck in the air you’d been deprived of.

Grabbing you by the shoulders, he pushed you onto the floor on your knees as he stood before you, undoing his belt and jeans letting them fall down until he was just in his boxers before you. Your vision cleared as you looked directly at his hard dick through his briefs. You could see the growing wet spot on them from his precum as he brought his hand to his bulge and started rubbing himself through his underwear. 

You looked up with pleading eyes, hoping he’d understand what you so badly wanted to give him, but understanding is not what you got.

“What is it, baby? Is there something you want? We have to ask for things when we want them, that’s a concept you’re familiar with right? Or are you just a stupid slut who expects me to give her whatever she wants without having to work for it, hmm?” he said, the pace in which he was rubbing himself picking up. You whined, maybe he would give in and just let you take him without having to speak the words out loud. He just stared at you, waiting.

You cleared your throat and forced out the words, “Please, can I please suck your cock? I need to taste you so bad, please. Please sir, please fuck my mouth like you deserve to.” Once the words came out you couldn’t stop them. You needed him so badly, all you could do was helplessly beg. “I’ll be so good, I’ll do whatever you want from me, just please let me take your cock. Let me show you I can be good. Let me show you how well my throat can take it,” you continued begging and almost started drooling as he slowly pulled his underwear down, letting them fall to his ankles.

You looked up at him, asking for permission, “May I, sir?” He ran his hand down your scalp, bringing it down to your cheek and massaging it underneath his palm. He suddenly pulled his hand away before a sharp slap met your cheek that had your brain going foggy. The pain spread through your face, causing your jaw to fall open in a groan. 

Leon took this opportunity to shove his cock into your mouth, your attention grabbed immediately as your lips wrapped around him. You let out a moan as the taste of his precum flooded your mouth. The pain from the slap mixed with his taste had your eyes rolling back into your head as you sucked him in as hard as you could.

Leon’s head fell back in pleasure as a moan of your name fell from his lips. You pulled his cock deeper into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat to spur him on. Your hand wrapped around the base of his cock, pumping him while you took his cock as deep as it could go in your throat. The sheer size of his member still blew your mind despite seeing it over camera twice. Nothing could compare to him being right in front of your face.

One of his hands tangled in your hair as the other one fiddled with something behind him. “Hey,” he said, grabbing your attention away from the work you were doing on his cock, “You can say no, okay?” You raised an eyebrow questioningly as you didn’t know what he was trying to say. He pulled up your Polaroid camera and it started coming together in your brain. You whimpered realizing he wanted to take pictures of the two of you together.

The idea rushed feverishly through you and straight down to your cunt. You’d never thought of taking pictures in the act. You both knew you’d taken plenty of pictures alone, but the thought of doing this with Leon and having the pictures for both of you to hold onto? You could feel the arousal pooling down your thighs as you nodded your head once to let him know to please continue. He smiled down at you, “Atta girl. Put on a show for me and I’ll make it worth your while, yeah?” The hand still held in your hair pulled tightly, causing you to close your eyes as you kept up your work on his cock.

You lost yourself in pleasing him. Giving him pleasure gave you pleasure as well. The way his cock stretched your mouth around him was heavenly. He was thrusting into your mouth, pushing himself down your throat. Tears were pouring down your face, but you didn’t want him to stop. You loved feeling like this, loved when your mind went foggy as he used you.

“Look at me,” he suddenly demanded. You looked up and your eyes immediately looked into the camera as he snapped a picture of you. “Fuck, such a good girl. So good for me, your mouth is, fuck, fucking perfect,” he whined out. The sound was pure sex, causing you to moan around his dick.

“You want me to fuck you? You wanna take me into your slutty cunt, huh?” he asked you as you pulled your mouth off his cock sucking in a deep breath.

“Please, please. I want you to fuck me so bad. I want you to use my pussy until you cum, sir,” you were once again pleading for him. You couldn’t find shame within you anymore. Your need heavily outweighed your pride. And knowing he liked you like this? You wanted to give yourself over to him whenever he wanted, however he wanted.

He walked around you, pushing you forward so that your chest was laying on the cushions of your couch, knees still on the floor as he spread them wider before him. You looked back at him just in time to see him take a picture of you bent over for him. After the photo was pushed out of the camera, he brought the device closer to your sopping pussy and took a picture of how wet and needy you were for him. He sat the camera down and started kneading both his hands into your ass cheeks.

Leaning forward he kissed your shoulder as one hand slipped down between your thighs and rubbed your clit gently. He ran his fingers up and down your folds before sinking a finger into your wet heat. You couldn’t help but whine at this point. You were so worked up, you could’ve taken his cock immediately, but you were also too worked up to be able to voice this. He slid another finger in as you let out a long, high pitched moan. 

“Are you ready for me, baby? I need to feel your pussy around my cock,” Leon asked you as you nodded your head as fast as humanly possible. He chuckled at your neediness before slowly pulling his fingers out of you and bringing them to your lips. “Here, be a good girl and clean this up for me,” he could barely finish his statement before you were sucking his fingers clean of your juices. He let out a deep moan as his other hand pulled back and smacked your ass hard. 

He wrapped his hand around his cock and rubbed the tip against your wet hole, causing you to instinctively push yourself back, trying to take his cock. This earned you another smack on your ass. You moaned as you arched your back from the pain. Leon took this opportunity and slammed himself all the way inside of you, which had you unintentionally biting his fingers that were still being held in your mouth. He moaned at the way your teeth dug into his fingers before pulling them out and running his hand down your back.

You turned to look at him, begging, “Please move Leon, I need it so bad. I need you to fuck me, please please please please.” You couldn’t help but move your ass around to get some sort of movement within your pussy. You were so desperate, you couldn’t wait any longer, you needed him to fuck you until you couldn’t remember your own name.

“Shhhhh,” he whispered as he wrapped his hand around your throat, pulling your head back to rest on his peck as your back arched even further for him, “I’ve got you sweet girl.” He finally, finally, started moving and moans were already falling from your lips uncontrollably. “That’s it, you take me so well. Gonna make you feel so good,” Leon praised you. He had completely switched from the degrading way he spoke to you earlier and the praise had you melting beneath his touch. Your walls flutter around his cock in approval.

His pace picked up as he ruthlessly began pounding into you. You were uttering incoherent phrases at him as the pleasure was coursing through every nerve in your body. Leon leaned forward and buried his head in your neck, letting loose the most pornographic moans you’d ever heard. You didn’t know what was giving you more pleasure, the way he was fucking you or the way he sounded.

You pulled your hands from where they were gripping the couch and wrapping them behind you, tangling his hair in your fingers as you pulled his mouth to yours. The kiss was messy and loud, moaning as your tongues clashed together desperately trying to feel every square inch of each other. Leon’s hands released their grip on your thighs and ran them up to your stomach until he reached your breasts, where he rubbed your nipples between his fingers, further driving you crazy.

You felt yourself slowly climbing that mountain, heading towards release, when Leon’s movements suddenly stopped and he pushed your chest back into the couch, pressing you into it with both hands. You were whining and pushing yourself up and down his cock while he held you in place. “That’s it, fuck yourself with my cock. You look so good like this, so fucking needy,” Leon barely formed the words together as he got lost in the sight of you. He rested his hands lazily on his hips, holding himself up as you forcibly fucked back onto his cock.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please fuck me. I’m so close I need you to fill me up, please,” you begged, wearing yourself out from your movements, hardly able to catch your breath but unrelenting in your need to cum. 

Leon gave into your request, pushing his hands into your back, holding you in place as he ruthlessly fucked into you. He let out a loud moan before speaking, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Cum with me sweet girl. I want to feel you cum around my cock.” You couldn’t formulate a response, but after a few more hard, sloppy thrusts you were screaming Leon’s name and all sorts of profanities as you came. 

After feeling you squeeze his cock so tightly, Leon was cumming deep inside your pussy. Thrusting into you through his orgasm, pushing his cum further inside of you. Your knees gave out beneath you, but Leon was quick to grab your hips and hold you up. He slowly slid his cock out of you, taking in the view of his cum slowly dripping down your thighs. If it was possible, he would’ve cum again at the sight alone. 

He helped you turn over and lay on the floor right beside your couch as he laid down right next to you. You were tightly sandwiched between the couch and coffee table with him, but you didn’t mind. You wanted to be as close to him as possible. You rolled onto your side and threw your leg and arm over him, chin resting on his shoulder. He turned to look at you, catching your lips in a slow, gentle kiss. It was a sharp contrast to how you’d just been moments ago and it would’ve given anyone whiplash, but to you both it made perfect sense. 

Leon pulled away and spoke softly, “There’s only one thing I’m not sure of. Why’d you get the cameras?” You let out an airy laugh and were about to speak when you were interrupted by a loud crash in the kitchen, followed by one of your cats zooming through the living room and into your bedroom away from the noise.

“What the fuck was that?” you yelled, whipping your head towards the kitchen. “That’s why I got the damn cameras! Between the cats, and apparently you, I was beginning to believe I was living with a poltergeist.”

Leon laughed before speaking, “Hey, I’m careful. That’s all on them or the poltergeist.”

~masterlist~

[angellesword]

BAGGAGE | JJK (04)

Summary: Drowning in debt and blood, Jeon Jungkook knows he's better off alone, lest he brings people down with him.

But one drunken night changes everything.

In a blink of an eye, Jungkook found himself drowning not only in debt and blood, but also in dirty diapers and judgmental stares from you, a.k.a his long-lost love and the guardian of the son he didn't even know existed.

Genre and warnings: best friends to lovers, co-parenting, idiots in love, mutual pining, angst, fluff, implied smut, kissing, minor character death, slight getting back together, oc cusses excessively, dubcon, pregnancy kink, child cussing, reckless driving, suicide justification, glorifying suicide, semi-drunk Jungkook makes sexual moves on a sober oc.

Pairing: dad!Jungkook x adoptive mom!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

←Previous Chapter (03) | Next Chapter (05) →

***

Present; 2023

Not long after you and Soobin finished your meal at ADA, you finally received the call you had been anticipating since last night:

A call from Jungkook.

“Hello?” Your breathing hitched as you waited for the person on the other line to speak. Unfortunately, what welcomed you was an unfamiliar voice telling you she was from the General Hospital.

Your heart dropped. You stuttered when you asked the person on the other line about what had happened.

The hospital staff explained, “Mr. Jeon is alive but has been stabbed. Your number is the only one saved on his cellphone. Will you mind coming over or telling us who we can contact—”

“No. I’m coming.” You cut off. You couldn’t remember what you said to the nurse after that. Your mind was floating as you grabbed your keys, eyes darting on Soobin, who was watching TV in the living room.

“Ma?” Soobin blinked; a groan escaped his lips when you carried him. You were inside the car with him in the blink of an eye.

“Sorry, darling. We’ll go out again, okay? Hold on tight.”

You drove your car to the hospital at a very high speed. Soobin didn’t cry, but the poor boy looked shaken and about to vomit. You could only tighten your hold on your son and murmur an apology as you ran to the hospital desk. You didn’t know how to explain the situation to Soobin, as your attention was solely directed at Jungkook.

“I’m looking for Jungkook Jeon. How is he?” You were breathless when you talked to the nurse.

“Good day, Mam. Per the hospital’s protocol, I need your name first. Please state your relationship with the patient as well.” The nurse was calm and collected. Her eyes were trained on the monitor before her.

You stated your name but trailed off after. You wanted to say you were Jungkook’s friend, but were you and Jungkook even considered that? Besides, hospitals would prioritize the patient’s next of kin over friends.

To your surprise, the nurse nodded at you, “You’re listed as Mr. Jeon’s emergency contact. He needs surgery as soon as possible. We will need your consent.”

You could be accused of being dumbfounded, but you didn’t have time to assess your reactions. You signed all relevant forms and requested the hospital to give Jungkook VIP treatment.

No one knew what happened to the Jungkook. He was simply lucky to be able to call for help before he passed out. Jungkook suffered multiple stab wounds. Lee Sung clearly didn’t hold back when he pierced and slashed the knife into the Jungkook’s body. As a result, the surgery took some time to finish.

Jungkook was unconscious on the operating table, his body taking all the trauma while his mind drifted to a place and time where everything was still right:

Nine Years Ago; 2014

To say Jungkook was obsessed with your stomach would be an understatement. Don’t get it wrong. He was obsessed with every part of your body: hips, chest, hands—you name it, and Jungkook would read you his essay about it.

But lately, all the Jungkook could think about was your stomach.

“Can I fucking help you?” You growled, unable to take the intensity of Jungkook’s ogling anymore.

Jungkook didn’t bat an eyelash, though. His gaze only deepened, a sigh leaving his lips. “Say, how many calories do you consume daily?”

“Hah!?” You looked down at your stomach, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden. “What shit are you up to, bastard!? Do you think my stomach is big!?”

First of all, you didn’t think there was anything wrong with a big stomach, or a flat stomach, for that matter. However, something about Jungkook’s words hit your nerve.

A bastard like Jungkook wouldn’t say things out of the blue. Usually, it entailed trouble.

“No.” Jungkook shook his head, still looking pensive while staring at the middle part of your body. “I’m just curious.”

“Keep your curiosity to yourself, then. I don’t know. I don’t count my calorie intake. I have more important things to do than that.” You were in the middle of writing your thesis paper. Frankly, your time was constrained. All you did these days was attend classes, meet with your thesis adviser, and write your paper.

You couldn’t be bothered to sleep anymore. Now that Jungkook kept hinting something was wrong with your stomach, you couldn’t help but add an extra hour of jogging.

“Hey, sweetheart~” You bumped into Jungkook one morning. You lived on campus, but Jungkook would be moving out soon. He recently informed you he’d be taking some time off college. During this time, you had no idea that his decision to take some time off studying would be permanent. Jungkook wasn’t just taking a break—he was dropping out.

“Why are you out here so early? I thought you were taking a break this semester. No more 7am classes for you, eh?” You taunted. Seeing your best friend up so early in the morning was rare. Jungkook even called you crazy before for running around the university’s field at five in the morning.

“Jimin-hyung and I had breakfast. I’m on my way to your dorm, actually. I got you something to eat,” by something to eat, Jungkook meant different kinds of high-calorie food—courtesy of Jimin’s recommendations.

“Here,” Jungkook gave you the food he got. He sighed after, “How many minutes have you been exercising?”

Here he goes again. Your fist clenched when Jungkook glanced at your stomach. What the fuck was wrong with this bastard!?

“Jungkook-shit!” You snarled, ‘Jungkook-shit’ was your favorite insult--a variation of your usual ‘Jungkook-ssi.’ You confirmed your guess by checking the logo where Jungkook got your breakfast: Healthy option. “I’ll squeeze in another hour of running tomorrow, okay! You don’t have to be a bastard about it!”

Your face was red, your nose flaring.

“That’s not—”

“Whatever! I’m fucking leaving.”

Jungkook was too slow to catch up to an angry version of you, so he let it go and simply shrugged his shoulders.

Unfortunately, Jungkook was still an asshole about your weight the next time you two met. You were supposed to have lunch together but walked out when Jungkook commented about your clothes.

“You are wearing a cropped top.” Jungkook’s eyes shrunk, voice laced with disappointment.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It shows your stomach. I—”

“You know what? Fuck you.” You couldn’t help but bare your teeth. You had been friends with Jungkook-shit for as long as you could remember. You loved him to death but wouldn’t take his dumbassery lying down. Comments about one’s body were never okay.

“I’m sick of you side-eyeing my stomach. I don’t think I wanna be friends with an ass like you anymore. Goodbye. I’m leaving!”

You left and never once showed your face to Jungkook again. Thinking about your fragile friendship hurt, so you drowned yourself in school stuff instead.

You rarely left your dorm, spending almost all your time writing your paper and ignoring Jungkook’s phone calls.

But Jungkook-shit was persistent; one evening, he came knocking on your dorm.

“Hey! Open the door! I need to see you!”

As much as you wanted to ignore him, you knew you couldn’t. Students were studying next door, so you opened the door with great reluctance.

“What—”

Jungkook crashed against your chest.

“—the fuck.” You almost lost your footing. Thankfully, you were able to grab the door frame to steady yourself. You snarled and wrapped your arms around Jungkook’s tiny waist.

“Bastard! Why are you here!? You reek of alcohol! Are you drunk!?”

Your jaw slackened; you weren’t sure if it was because you didn’t want to deal with a drunken bastard or if you were bitter since you couldn’t drink along with this drunken bastard.

You hadn’t had alcohol in a long time. Damn school.

“Hi, sweetheart~” Jungkook raised his head slightly, batting his eyelashes seductively at you.

You gulped thickly. Your grip on Jungkook’s waist tightened. “Don’t ‘hi sweetheart’ me. You’re drunk. You need to go home.”

“But!!!” Jungkook snickered. “I’m not drunk. I only had one glass of whiskey. Jimin-hyung insisted I drink. You know I can’t say no to him. He’s my favorite person.”

You ignored the stone crushing your heart. You brushed Jungkook’s fringe like you were brushing your hurt away. “Your face is sweaty. Did you run here?”

Because you weren’t heartless, you let Jungkook in and even helped him to your bed. You originally wanted your best friend to lie down first as you prepared some soup. However, Jungkook pulled you to bed with him.

“Oi, bastard! Let go!” You wrestled with him, but you couldn’t get away from his suffocating embrace.

Jungkook wrapped his legs around your body. He also buried his face in your neck.

“Stay here. I miss you. I miss you so much it hurts,” Jungkook let out a whiny sob. “Please stay for a while, alright? I just want to tell you how my day went.”

Jungkook had never been this clingy and vulnerable before. He was only like this when drunk. 

But he really wasn’t drunk, at least not with alcohol or drugs. It was on something else--something good--a spark of joy.

You couldn’t help but coo.

“Okay,” you betrayed yourself. “Fine. You can talk. Tell me why you’re like this. Did something happen?”

“Yes. Something happened.” Jungkook’s eyelashes fluttered. “Jimin-hyung and I drank to celebrate. We are starting a business to help people! Me and Jimin—”

Jungkook abruptly stopped talking. He looked deep in thought. After a few seconds, he shook his head and smiled, “I will make those kids proud.”

Your heart swelled with joy upon hearing that. Jungkook never talked about himself, rarely using the word ‘I’ to express his feelings, but today, he really proclaimed a promise using that pronoun.

For the first time, Jungkook looked alive.

“What kids are you talking about, Jungkook-shit?” You asked as softly as you could, hoping your best friend would spill more.

But Jungkook sometimes had selective hearing, not to mention he was a bit tipsy. He only heard the word ‘kid’ from you.

He giggled; his hand roamed your body. “Kids,” Jungkook’s tone was sultry. You could feel his hot breath on your neck.

“I want to have kids,” Jungkook announced as his hand made its way to cup under your clothes—he was caressing your stomach.

You inhaled sharply.

“I want you to carry my baby.” Jungkook’s lips puckered, “I want to put a baby in your tummy. Why hasn’t your stomach grown yet?”

Oh. You thought. Heat crawled up to your face as the sudden realization hit you like a ton of bricks:

Jungkook looking at your stomach...  Jungkook asking about your calorie intake...  Jungkook saw your flat stomach when you wore that cropped top...

What the fuck.

“I want to see your stomach grow like a balloon.” Jungkook stroked your tummy, his hand moving up to flick at your nipples. “These too. Wanna see them grow heavy with milk. Our baby and I can share—”

“Shut up!” you couldn’t take such lewd words from a shitty mackerel. He pushed Jungkook’s chest. “You...you don’t even like kids! You are just--!!”

You didn’t know what to say. You tried to ignore the warmth spreading to your belly down to your groin. Jungkook had always been good at dirty talking. You knew because it was mainly directed at you.

You and Jungkook were best friends who helped each other in many ways, including pleasuring each other’s bodies.

You had never done more than oral sex, though. You were easily flustered and oh so very easy to please. With a few touches here and there, coupled with dirty talk, you would be coming all over Jungkook’s mouth and hands.

“Why’re you pushing me away? Come, let me hug you.” Jungkook pulled you to his chest. “You want it, don’t you? Don’t you dare lie. I saw your face. You want to have my baby too.”

You shivered, your breathing labored. You didn’t consider yourself weak, but when it came to Jungkook? You couldn’t say the same thing.

“Admit it. You want me too. Wan  me to fill you up with my cum, yeah?”

Of fucking course you do. You swallowed hard, gripping your best friend’s shirt as you whispered, “I fucking do. But not now. I want you 100% sober, Kook. See if you can repeat those words tomorrow.”

Jungkook licked his lower lip and hummed, “Mn, I always want you.”

Present; 2023

Jungkook peeled his eyes open.

Everything hurt. It was hard to move. It didn’t help that all his eyes landed were white. It hurt his eyes.

Right. Before all this white was black—his world turned into darkness when Lee Sung drove that knife to his stomach.

Jungkook blinked. The words stomach triggered memories from the past, a memory that disguised itself into a long dream.

Before Jungkook woke up, he dreamed about you and his selfish desire for you to carry his child.

Jungkook’s shoulders slumped; an overwhelming sense of sorrow settled at the pit of his stomach. But he was startled to see a small child staring blankly at him.

He tilted his head to the side. Huh? Why was there a kid in his hospital room?

“Hey, kid,” Jungkook held back his flinch for the sake of his aching stomach wound. The boy gave Jungkook the creeps; his irises were pitch black, and he wouldn’t stop staring dumbly at him. 

“Where are your parents? Did your daddy accidentally lose you?” Dads are the worst.

Jungkook had to hold another flinch when the kid answered his question with a cutthroat gesture: his little fingers were slitting through his neck, causing Jungkook to furrow his brow. Seriously, what was wrong with this kid?

“What’s your name? How old are you?” Jungkook enquired. Could this kid have lost his way and accidentally entered his hospital room? And speaking of room, Jungkook felt his fingers turning colder.

Who in the right mind would confine him in a VIP room!? Didn’t the hospital check his identity first? Didn’t they know Jungkook couldn’t afford this kind of service!?

“Name Soobin, twee yess och.”

You know what else Jungkook couldn’t afford? Listening to Soobin talk.

“Did you say three?” Jungkook pressed his lips into a thin line as he crossed his arms, “Huh. You’re three, and you still talk gibberish?”

The boy seemed to recognize the taunt painting Jungkook’s voice. He folded his little arms across his chest, his lips protruding into a sulky pout: “Am not dumb.”

For some reason, Jungkook’s heart softened at the look of this kid. He was so adorable that Jungkook couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh—even when it hurt his stomach. “You even know the word dumb, huh?”

The child couldn’t speak straight but could read one’s expression. When he saw the mirth in Jungkook’s eyes, he thought it was an invitation for him to flex the words he knew.

“Stupid.” The kid uttered. “Fuck.”

“Hey! You can pronounce those words perfectly. Attaboy~.” Jungkook’s eyes glistened in awe, making the kid happy. Soobin slightly tucked his chin and relished the praise of a stranger. However, the feeling of triumph didn’t last long, as Jungkook quickly realized his mistake.

“I mean...no! Bad boy. Don’t say those words. Your mom is going to be mad at you.”

Soobin was similar to Jungkook. He could twist his expression in a second, too. His twinkling eyes immediately went back to being impassive.

Jungkook’s lips partly opened in shock. He narrowed his eyes at the kid, “What? Don’t tell me your mom is dead, too?”

Soobin made that cutthroat gesture earlier. Jungkook just assumed it meant his father died. The kid probably didn’t know what that action symbolized. Soobin didn’t seem to like what Jungkook had said, though. He creased his forehead, ready to throw his fist at Jungkook when the door suddenly flew open.

Soobin’s attention switched to that. His eyes glowed, “Ma!” And then he scurried toward the newcomer.

Jungkook followed Soobin’s movement, his eyes glowing when he saw the person who opened the door.

Soobin’s ‘ma’ was--

“Soobin,” --you. You opened your arms wide, ready to catch the small boy in your arms. Soobin jumped right in, squeezing your shoulders into an embrace.

“Ma! Not dead!” Soobin rubbed his cheek against your cheek, causing your lips to pucker. Soobin was squeezing too hard.

“Soobin,” You chuckled awkwardly as goosebumps pricked at your skin. Someone was ogling at you. You had been accustomed to this feeling since you were subjected to it nine years ago.

You looked at Jungkook’s bed, breath taken away from your lungs upon seeing your ex-best friend awake.

“You’re awake.” You made your way to Jungkook’s bed. You were about to press the nurse call button when a cold hand grasped your wrist.

“Don’t call anyone. I’m fine.” Jungkook said with a nasal voice.

“Okay.” You conceded. You wanted to say many things but didn’t know where to start. Jungkook had already met Soobin while you weren’t around. You never meant for this to happen. The nurse said Jungkook was supposed to wake up sometime later, but he woke up earlier than expected.

It wasn’t a bad thing, no—not really. Your heart was actually calmer now that Jungkook had opened his eyes. Gone was the feeling of standing on a precipice with the fear of falling down. You had retreated to a safer distance now that Jungkook was awake.

“How are you feeling?” You licked your lower lip, “The nurse called me. She said you’ve been stabbed. What happened?”

Jungkook was bombarded with questions. He didn’t know what to say, but it’s not like he didn’t see this coming. It was his fault. He was the one who saved your number on his phone the night you met. He was weak then. He allowed himself to hope that fate would make a move even if he didn’t.

He was also the one who never changed his emergency contact, even after everything that transpired. You left, but Jungkook never moved on.

Jungkook cleared his throat, eyes darting on the kid in your arms. An uncomfortable feeling settled at the pit of his stomach.

“Is…” Jungkook swallowed, “Is he your kid?”

You avoided the other man’s gaze. You looked like you wanted to avoid the question, so you did that.

“I asked you a question first.”

You had this face that said, ‘You won’t get a response from me if you don’t tell me things first.’ Jungkook usually teased you until you relented, but he felt that was not the case anymore.

“And I already told you I’m fine.” Jungkook didn’t want to make a big deal out of the situation. It was already bad enough.

But you begged to differ.

“And I asked you what happened. You can’t get stabbed and just ignore it, Jungkook.”

The image of Lee Sung’s mocking grin made Jungkook shiver. He really didn’t want to think about that bastard today—or ever.

Jungkook gave a dismissive wave, “I’m fine, aren’t I? No point in dwelling in the past.”

“Then I guess you won’t know who this kid is to me.”

Jungkook’s head snapped to meet your fiery gaze.

“Fine.” He scoffed. “I did it to myself, alright? I’m the culprit. What are you gonna do about it?”

The idea was to tease you back until you stopped with your query. Jungkook had no intention of divulging the truth as it was too humiliating. Pride was the only thing he had in this lifetime.

But to Jungkook’s disappointment, his response only ignited your anger and curiosity. You snapped at him, “Oi, Jungkook. Are you kidding me?”

Something about your expression riled up Jungkook. Yes, that’s it. That’s the face I want to see. Show me you care, but don’t you dare come closer. I’m not letting you in.

“You and I both know I don’t joke about this thing.” Jungkook blinked at you innocently. “I’ve wanted to die for a long time.”

“Fuck you.” you spat. Soobin’s ears perked up. He raised his hands and repeated your words:

“Fuck you.”

“Soobin, cover your fucking ears!” You snapped, a fraction of your anger directed at the small child in your arms. Soobin was not a pushover, unlike Jungkook. He recognized the thunder in your voice. Soobin immediately covered his ears.

You directed your fury back to Jungkook again. Your eyes and tone were both sharp. “You haven’t changed after all these years, huh? You’re still nothing but a fucking coward.”

Jungkook’s eyes darkened, yet he didn’t speak. It prompted you to voice out your pain.

“You’re still a coward who can’t face his problems, only relying on suicide to ease your fucking pain. Guess what, Jungkook-shit. Trying to kill yourself doesn’t end the pain!” It only exemplifies it, passing the hurt to those left behind.

Jungkook’s breathing quickened. He looked at you with wide eyes; his thoughts earlier of not letting you in felt like a resounding slap now.

That’s not true. Jungkook screamed in his head. You didn’t understand him. No one did. 

Suddenly, it wasn’t about what Lee Sung did to him or his lies to shut you up. It moved around Jungkook’s suppressed feelings.

It was unfair, wasn’t it? Everyone thought suicide was the easy way out. But honestly, it was Jungkook’s last resort. He had tried everything before: sleep it off, think happy thoughts, and wait it out. Maybe fate wanted to test him, but why did it still hurt the same after many years? Why did the burden in his heart not lessen an ounce? In fact, it only weighed more.

People thought it was selfish of him to end his life because he wouldn’t be here to deal with the aftermath.

But what about before the aftermath? What about those difficult times when his heart hurt so much that he couldn’t breathe? When the voices in his head were so loud he couldn’t make them shut up?

Those left behind deal with the aftermath but not what happened before that.

People didn’t know because they were also busy dealing with their own pain.

Your eyes were red. You glared at Jungkook, “I hate you so much, shitty Jungkook. Jisoo-unnie was wrong. You’re not a good person. You’re an asshole. She shouldn’t have trusted you. She shouldn’t have made me promise to return here in Incheon to tell you all about Soobin.”

Your embrace of Soobin tightened. “Because you know what? You don’t deserve Soobin. You don’t deserve to be his father. Fuck you.”

This scene was eerily familiar to Jungkook. He watched as you turned your back on him, aiming for the exit with no intention of ever returning.

***

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A/N: Comments are highly appreciated! Please leave some :)

I've written multiple Jungkook fics, you might want to check that out!

[pimosworld]

Only if you catch me

Pairing- Frankie Morales x f!reader

Chapter Summary-You and Frankie have your first official date.

Chapter Warnings- 18+, MDNI, mentions of addiction, angst, fluff, first date jitters, kissing, sexual tension, flirting, Frankie is a gentleman

WC-6.7k

A/N- These two are so sickeningly sweet I can’t stand it. Reader and Frankie have a long way to go but it almost always starts with butterflies. @toobusyshrimping Thank you for the help with the “foot in mouth” line.

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

Not beta read

Chapter 2. Composite

For some people, one slip up means disaster. There is a huge emphasis on not taking that first drink. That first drink can trigger the obsession, the compulsion. The need for more and more. 

  It took Frankie awhile to find an NA meeting not focused on shame, but healing. A place that didn’t ask you to share something about your week like you were a child. A place that didn’t tell you to be comfortable all the while making you sit on hard metal folding chairs in a cold dingey room. 

  Soft ambient lighting strategically placed to help you relax, instead of the harsh fluorescent lights like you were being interrogated. 

  It’s a weekly routine. 

  One Frankie has grown used to over the last year. From that first day feeling like he was going to crawl out of his skin to now being a regular face amongst the crowd. 

  His knee no longer bounces nervously as he listens to others talk about their battles with addiction. His hands are steady resting along his thighs instead of worrying at the frayed lines on his shirt.

  He’s seated facing the door so he sees Jones enter. The older man looked a little more gray than usual. The worry lines deeper and more evident on his face. His clothes could use an iron and he looks on the tail end of a three day bender…but he’s here. 

  He gravitates towards him and Frankie offers the open seat. 

  “Look, I’m sorry about…”

  Frankie waves him off, not wanting to do the awkward song and dance. Offers him an easy out and a curt don’t let it happen again. 

  “I hope your lady wasn’t too upset.” 

  Thankfully the moderator enters the room to save him from an explanation. His lady. A statement he hadn’t heard in awhile. Obviously way too soon to call you that, but he doesn’t feel like correcting him. He may be getting ahead of himself but he hopes he won’t have to correct him. 

  Frankie hasn’t felt this way about anyone since her. Somewhere deep down where he shoves every ounce of guilt he thinks he may have never felt this way about her at all. 

  Bonded by trauma and addiction, he somehow thought what they had was love. He thought they were meant for each other because who could possibly love him and all his fucked up past. He started coming to these meetings with her and then she made excuses as to why she didn’t need them anymore. That was the beginning of the end, when he finally realized that maybe they weren’t as compatible as he thought. Each day he healed his trauma, each day he stayed sober they grew further and further apart. 

  And then Colombia. 

  Frankie returned with the boys and no Tom. No amount of money could fix the damage they had all done. Fractured and barely holding on, when he needed her the most she came to him so strung out he didn’t recognize her. The woman he used to love, the woman who had laid her life on the line for them so many times he lost count. He’s glad for her sake that Santi couldn’t find her before Colombia or she might not have made it home. 

  “Francisco, do you want to share anything new about your week?”

  All eyes are on him and he’s not sure how long she’s been trying to get his attention. Judging by the sly way Jones tries to hide his smile behind his hands it’s been a second. 

He adjusts his cap on his head, nervously running his fingers through his hair. “Umm, not much to share about this week.”

  “That’s okay, we don’t always have to share. I’m just glad to see your face.” 

  He’s not sure where it comes from as she goes to address the next person. As though he has no control over his body when he begins to clear his throat and she redirects her attention back to him. 

  “Actually.” 

  He straightens up a little in his seat, squaring his shoulders back. 

  “I met someone this week.” He’s met with her pleased smile and a few low whistles. “We have a date this Saturday.” 

  He lets out a sigh of relief, not usually one to share during meetings but never being pushed too. Something makes him want to open up more. Perhaps it’s you. 

  “I’m proud of you Francisco. For sharing and for putting yourself out there.” 

  He knows she’s the only one who keeps track of everyone’s recovery process. He brushed it off six months ago when she informed him that he’s been coming in consistently for a year. 

  The silent understanding that he’d reached a milestone. 

  He memorized the pamphlet his first time coming in. The only thing he could focus on while his hands shook and his back sweat. 

  He scoffed when he first read the part about dating.

Dating too soon can be detrimental to mental health and well-being, and increase the risk of relapse. During early recovery, people are still learning to navigate their new sober lives, and dating can be a distraction or replacement addiction. It can also be difficult to maintain sobriety while dating. 

He ignored the advice that first month when Benny needed him as a wingman for a double date. He nearly had a panic attack at the restaurant when his date wouldn’t stop pestering him about his time in the military, what he did for work, does he have any siblings. All the monotonous first date conversations that he should be able to answer but her wine stained lips and suffocating perfume were making it all too much. 

For what it was worth Benny felt bad when Frankie ditched the date and drove straight to Will’s house because he didn’t trust himself to be alone. 

A year and a half later and you come along. A breath of fresh air

The rest of the meeting goes by in a blur of introductions, confessions and thoughts of you as he makes his way out to his truck. 

****

“I’m not entirely sure why you think I’m gonna be able to help you pick an outfit.” 

Your phone is propped up on top of your mirror with a little FaceTime image of your sister in the corner as you twirl around. 

“You used to help me pick outfits all the time Dom.” 

“Yes but I have no sense of style now. I spend most days in sweats.” 

You step out of frame not satisfied with the third outfit you’d tried as you add to the growing pile of clothes on the bed. 

“Tell me more about the date and I might be able to help you.” She yells knowing you’ve gone to your closet.You’ve spent the better part of the last hour hoping to find something that doesn’t remind you of him. You really needed to get some new clothes but that would require money you did not have at the moment. 

You pull out your dress from your college graduation. A red satin wrap with a low neckline and a flowy skirt. You may have worn it a thousand times but it’s never done you wrong. 

“He said we’re going to dinner, he’s picking me up at seven.Those are all the details I have.” You smooth your hands along the soft fabric as you stand in front of the mirror once more. Standing on your tip toes to get a better look you hear a tiny gasp. 

“Auntie you look so pwetty.” You can see the top of your nephew's dark curls just peeking out in the frame as your sister props him on her knee. 

“Well I think that’s a winner.” Dom says as she tickles her son and he lets out an excited squeal. “Don’t you think so buddy?” 

He nods enthusiastically and you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face. 

“I love red!” He yells and you both burst into a fit of laughter. 

“Red is his favorite color.” She ruffles his hair as he  slides off her lap, bored with the adults' conversation. “Red is bold?”

“Too bold?” 

She holds up her hands as she senses the nervousness in your voice. “I’m just saying it’s refreshing to see this side of you again.” 

You fix her with a look already knowing where this conversation is heading. A direction you don’t even want to follow right before a date. 

“Don’t think I don’t recognize that dress, I haven’t seen you wear it since that party.”

“Dom.” Your voice in a low warning. 

“I hated the way he spoke to you and then you never wore it again.” 

“Please don’t start.” Your voice trembles as you move out of frame, hastily untying the knot in the dress. 

“Come back please, I’m not trying to start a fight!” 

You know deep down she’s just being a concerned sister. You’ve been working on this particular trigger with your therapist. Not being able to sense when someone is helping and when someone is judging. 

You let out a shaky breath as you grab the phone from the mirror, plopping down amongst the clothes on your bed. A stray tear rolling down your cheek as you see her moving through her house to a quiet room. 

“Listen please….I love you and I just want what’s best for you. Don’t shut me out again because it nearly killed us both last time.” 

You close your eyes as you listen intently to your sister's words. Trying desperately to shove down the thoughts you’ve kept at bay for the better part of a year. 

“I’m not mom okay. I’m not judging you, I just want my sister back. I want that person back who wore the red dress. I want the person back who snuck out with me and got a tattoo for my eighteenth birthday.” She’s crying now and it’s just occurred to you that it’s been ages since you’ve seen her cry. “I want the sister who forged moms signature so she could go skydiving.” 

You both let out a guttural laugh when you remember how livid she was at the both of you. 

“I saw a glimpse of her the other day when you called me to talk about the job…and just now when you put on that dress.” 

You're grateful you still have hours to go before Frankie comes to get you as you wipe the mess on your face and smile back at your sister. 

“Jesus Dom, I’ll wear the damn dress. You didn’t need to make me cry.” 

She’s smiling ear to ear as she wipes the tears from her face and you both let out wet laughs. 

“Call me when you get home please.” 

“You know I will. Tell Elise I said hi and tell Casey I love him and thanks for the vote of confidence.” 

You hang up the phone and lay in your pile of clothes a little while longer just thinking about what your sister said. She was right. She was always right. 

****

6:45 pm

Frankie sits outside your quaint apartment building not wanting to head up too early. 

You live on the top floor, which is definitely the safer option for someone like you living alone. The complex isn’t gated and that makes him uneasy. 

Anyone can just walk up to your doorstep. 

He did notice security driving around which is nice, but security guards are a dime a dozen and they can’t really protect you from much.

It is one of the nicer neighborhoods in town, close to schools and a police station just down the road. 

But when do the police ever show up in time. 

He can tell he’s obsessing but he can’t really help himself. He is not really sure why he’s even so concerned about these things when it comes to you. He just met you and you’ve lived on your own successfully without him. He doesn’t need to swoop in and save you. In the words of his therapist, you don’t have to be in protective mode all the time.

Easier said than done. 

In the time he’s spent scoping out your living situation five minutes have passed. He figures that should give him enough time to head upstairs and only arrive five minutes early. He checks his hair once more in the rear view mirror not totally loving how it looks without his hat but deciding not to fidget with it anymore. He grabs the bouquet of red roses that he thought too hard over at the florist thinking maybe it was too cliche but at her insistence on how romantic of a gesture it was decided to go for it. 

****

6:45 pm

You’ve been standing in front of the floor length mirror in your bedroom for the last ten minutes trying to decide on a shoe. You texted your sister and she was no help telling you to go for something wild yet sensible. Those two things could not be more opposite. You didn’t want to go too fancy just in case this was a casual restaurant, but what if it was a really nice restaurant and you decided on a sandal? 

You were definitely overthinking this. 

You silently curse to yourself knowing you were running out of time and you can’t really go on a date barefoot when you remember some strappy low heels you bought for a wedding awhile ago. Perfectly cute and sensible all at once. 

You throw them on and give yourself one last look before you glance at your vanity table. The red lipstick you went back and forth over practically mocking you with the cap off. 

I want the person back who wore the red dress. 

Your sister's words echoing in the back of your mind. 

Fuck it. 

You hold the tube in your hand as your fingers tremble slightly. You stare down at the vibrant, fiery hue in stark contrast to your normal understated palette. With a deep breath you carefully apply, the texture smooth and crisp against your lips. When you first take a step back and look, the color is so striking it feels foreign. 

It’s also exhilarating and cliche that some red lipstick is giving you this huge boost of confidence. 

You grab a black leather purse hanging from your closet door opting to forgo your usual tote bag for something a little nicer. You tuck the lipstick, your phone and a little wallet inside leaving just enough room for Andy. Your sister would probably have your neck for bringing your camera on a date but it was your comfort blanket at the moment and you weren’t ready to let go of it. 

A heavy knock on your door and you take a deep breath and glance at the clock on your bedside table. 

****

6:55 pm

He knocks once and winces at the loud sound that echoes against the cheap wood. His hands are sweating against the plastic wrapped around the flowers and he hopes he’s not this rusty the rest of the night. 

When you greet him at the door he’s sure his heart stops for a few seconds. It’s entirely unexpected, his reaction and his complete underestimation of what he thought you would look like. He knew you were beautiful when he first saw you in the gym but this. This has him questioning everything. 

The red. 

Your dress and your lips. It’s Pavlovian the way he wants to sink his teeth into them. If this is you then he’s a goner. 

“Frankie…do you want to come in?”

“Oh shit…sorry. Ya, these are for you.” He practically shoves the roses at you and thankfully you laugh at his fumbling. He’s not sure how long he stood there gawking at you. 

“Why don’t you come in so I can put these in some water.” He’s following the scent of you like a cartoon Pepe le pew through your quaint apartment. 

You fumble around the kitchen cabinets looking for a vase as he takes in the space. It already feels a lot more warm and inviting than his five bedroom house that seems like a void of endless drab furniture. 

Little hints of you everywhere, a shelf with vintage cameras lined up. An odd shaped purple suede couch in the middle of the room, your coffee table looks like an old door with legs on it,  plants hung in any available window. A picture of you with a little baby on the wall along with some of the most vivid scenery shots he’s ever seen. Another picture with a woman who closely resembles you and an older man on what looks like your graduation day, wearing this dress. 

“I know I have a lot of…eclectic things.” You say as he turns to you. You’ve somehow trimmed and arranged the roses in the time it’s taken him to inspect your space. 

“Is that a pitcher?” 

“I mean…technically yes, but it’s serving as my vase since I don’t receive flowers much.” 

He hums in disbelief because how could a woman like you not receive flowers just for merely existing. 

He doesn’t even know if you realize you’re smiling behind the bouquet. A perfect blend of red that you serve as the backdrop. He takes out his phone and boldly takes a picture. 

You squint your eyes at him because he has his sound on. 

“Francisco.” Your voice drops an octave dripping all syrupy sweet. 

He surely won’t make it with you saying his name like that. 

“Yes, that is my name.” 

“Did you take my picture?” Hands on your hips and your tongue on your canine. 

“Maybe? I get the feeling you’re behind the camera too much.” 

You laugh as though it’s some inside joke because it is really. Your sister is always pestering you to be in the photo. But that leaves someone out and it might as well be you. 

“Can I see?” You move towards him and place your hand on his arm and he’s tempted to let you. He could read lips if they were yours as he repeats them back to himself. 

He places his phone in his pocket and watches as your eyes flit briefly to where it disappeared. 

“Not tonight.” 

Some other time 

You’re not so bold to reach in and see for yourself. You’re so close to him now you can feel his body heat and if this is what weak in the knees feels like then you’re certainly that. It takes every fiber of your being to remove your hand from his arm. 

He misses the warmth immediately as you step back but the look on your face shows a sign of that shy girl from the other night. 

“Should we?” You gesture to the door. “I don’t want to miss a reservation.” 

“No reservations needed. I know the owner of the restaurant.” 

You raise your eyebrows and he didn’t mean for it to come out so cocky. “I hope you like Italian.” He changes the subject hoping to avoid the awkwardness that he’s let fall over the room. 

“Points for you since that’s my favorite.” You reach for his hand as he leads you out and as you lock up your apartment you have to remind yourself that he’s not your ex. The man who knows the owner, the man who decides what you eat and drink, the man who didn’t care less what you wanted as long as you didn’t embarrass him. 

****

If he notices your shift in demeanor he says nothing. It’s easy to relax around Frankie and you notice yourself slipping into a peaceful routine with him. When he opens your door and helps you into the truck. When he instinctively grabs your hand as he drives, you notice his signature cap left at home for your date as his hair blows in the wind. 

This doesn’t feel like a first date. 

This feels like something you do all the time. Like you fit right into some imaginary puzzle piece in his life. He’s humming some tune under his breath and you’re feeling a little more bold as your fingers lace with his. 

You can feel him watching you from the corner of your eye as you look out the window at the familiar surroundings. He likes the way you look next to him, in his truck and something bubbles to the surface that he has to push down to not scare you away too soon. 

“I don’t think I told you how beautiful you look tonight.” You glance over at him as his large hand grips the steering wheel. “I was thinking it real hard but the words never came out.” 

“I was thinking something similar myself.” 

He notes that low timber in your voice when you compliment him. It takes everything in him to keep his eyes on the road. 

“I was hoping I wasn’t too overdressed.” You say apprehensively as he pulls into a small parking lot. 

“Baby for where we’re going you’re perfectly dressed.” 

You don’t have time to even react to the pet name when you see the restaurant come into view as he parks directly in front. 

“Frankie, this place is impossible to get a reservation. Trust me I tried and failed when my sister was in town visiting me.” 

He smirks as he opens and closes the drivers side door leaving you momentarily to saunter around and open yours. 

He holds his hand out to help you down and gently grabs your waist in the other. “Make sure to let me know next time she’s in town.” 

“Okay.” You say a little breathlessly as his large hand engulfs yours and he guides you towards the entrance. 

****

“Morales for two.” 

“Right this way Mr. Morales.” The Maitre d’ leads the way dressed in a tailored suit with a vest and small black bow tie. 

The interior is breathtaking as you make your way through the ornate hallway. Chandeliers cast a warm, golden light over the crisp white linens. There’s plush, crushed velvet and intricate woodwork furniture throughout.The walls are adorned with tapestries and the scent of fresh herbs and garlic wafts from the kitchen. 

You’ve noticed the entire night Frankie has been sure to walk behind you or beside you. Something you didn’t even realize in your previous relationship was a courtesy you weren’t afforded. Always being pulled along or left behind. His hand is warm, placed gently on your back as you pass by other well-dressed couples engaged in intimate conversations. Their voices a soft murmur against the backdrop of classical music playing somewhere in the distance. 

You’re both ushered toward a secluded corner of the restaurant, away from the bustling dining room. Your breath catches as you take in the scene before you. A small path opens up to a hidden courtyard, bathed in a soft glow of candlelight. Ivy climbs gracefully up the old stonewalls. A table set for two is adorned with empire candles and one single rose. 

Frankie’s eyes are on you, a mix of nervousness and pride etched across his face. He’s clearly pleased with your reaction and he chuckles to himself as he takes in the romantic setting his friend arranged just for this moment. 

“I hoped you’d like it.” Frankie says, his voice a soft murmur as he pulls out your chair. 

“Like it! Frankie, are you serious? This is incredible.” 

He smiles at your reaction as he takes his place across from you. The tenderness in his gesture, the thoughtfulness of the setting-it all makes your heart flutter. This isn’t just a date. It’s a memory in the making, and his effort to impress you is overwhelming in the best way possible. 

****

“Frankie I have to say the website photos do not do this place justice.” 

The laugh that erupts from his chest catches you off guard briefly. “The owner was being cheap-.” 

“Cheap!” A familiar voice sounds from behind you as the gorgeous man you recognize from Benny's fight strolls over to your table. His hair is slicked back showing off his perfect bone structure. Slight salt and pepper stubble across his face. Dressed in all black and the first two buttons undone to show off his tan chest. 

Frankie stands from the table and embraces the man in a tight hug. He whispers something you don’t quite catch before turning to you with a wide smile. 

“Hi, I’m Santiago.” He holds out his hand for you and to your surprise kisses the top of your outstretched hand. “Fish whisked you away before I had a chance to introduce myself the other day.” 

“Fish?” 

“That is exactly why I whisked her away.” Frankie says through gritted teeth. 

Santiago holds his hands up in apology. “Sorry, I mean Francisco.” 

The waiter appears with a pitcher of water and pours for the table as Santiago instructs him to bring a bottle of sparkling when he returns with the bread. 

“So I hear you’re quite the photographer, I could use your help.” 

“Pope.” Frankie eyes him in warning. 

You reach across the table and take Frankie’s hand in yours. “It’s fine really.” 

Santiago’s eyes on your joined hands and a knowing smirk on his face. 

“I would love to take some photos for your website. They really are quite awful.” You say honestly. 

“Well I took them myself so…”

You unconsciously grimace and it’s equal parts comical and painful to look at as you palm your face. “I’m so sorry.” 

Both men are laughing before you can continue your apology. 

“No hard feelings, cariño. I’m a big boy and can take some criticism. This guy on the other hand.” He pats Frankie on the back. “Go easy on him for me.” 

A look of gratitude passes between them and Santiago steps back as the waiter reappears. 

He claps his hands. “I’ll leave you two love birds to enjoy. I have a very special meal planned for the evening so I hope you’re hungry.” 

He turns to leave but not before Frankie speaks. 

“Gracias hermano realmente aprecio todo.” 

“Para ti cualquier cosa.”

****

The conversation between you and Frankie flowed easily as each course was presented to you. Per Santiago’s instruction the waiter presented each dish to you in great detail. 

First Course: Antipasti Deliziosi

The evening begins with an elegant spread of antipasti, served on a polished wooden platter. The colorful assortment included thinly sliced prosciutto, delicate burrata cheese drizzled with balsamic reduction, and an array of marinated olives, artichoke hearts, and sun-dried tomatoes. 

Frankie tells you a little about his time in the military with the boys. After a brief explanation that because of some private government contracts they all did very well for themselves after the service. Of course your curiosity was peaked at the thought of Benny and Will owning their own gym and Santiago owning the most popular restaurant in town. Frankie had casually mentioned at your first encounter that he owned a private helicopter business. None of these men came off as self centered or what you would consider avaricious so it was refreshing to see such successful men be so humble. 

Albeit very intimidating that you struggled most months to pay your bills and your savings was almost at nothing after a year of being here. You quickly steered the conversation away from that topic which made you uncomfortable because of your previous relationship. You didn’t want to come off as some kind of gold digger. 

Second Course: Risotto ai Frutti di Mare

The second course featured a luxurious risotto with a medley of seafood—plump shrimp, tender scallops, and mussels. The creamy, saffron-infused risotto, complemented by a hint of lemon zest. Between forkfuls, Frankie shares anecdotes about his most memorable helicopter flights, while you told him( sparing some of the not so pretty details) of your spontaneous move just a year ago. 

He listens intently to you talk about trying to work when you first arrived but it being too overwhelming. You briefly mention therapy and for that he’s grateful he doesn’t have to be ashamed to talk about his struggles after leaving the military. There’s no judgment in your eyes when he talks about those meetings that saved his life. 

First date feels inappropriate and a little too heavy to mention ex’s so you both stay far away from that topic. 

You don’t mention your sobriety so he doesn’t push. 

You talk about finally taking that step and reaching out to Will for the shoot and he can’t help but shake his head on the timing of it all. 

Third Course: Filetto di Manzo con Salsa 

For the third course, the table is graced with a perfectly cooked filet mignon, its tender surface glazed with butter and rich red tomato purée . Accompanied by truffle mashed potatoes and sautéed asparagus.

You’re beaming when you open up to him about some future projects you want to work on and the need to get back into weddings since those were your favorite. 

He may know some people that are seeking you out for just that but he won’t spoil the surprise. 

All of the normal first date questions that would usually bore him to death seem to feel different when he’s with you. The way you look in his eyes makes him feel like he’s floating. He’s sure you don’t notice the way you bite your lip when you’re thinking or the way you moan after trying the first bite of each course. 

Your knee keeps brushing his under the table but it’s comforting when you don’t pull away. 

Dessert: Tiramisu Classico

The evening concludes with a classic tiramisu—layers of espresso-soaked ladyfingers, creamy mascarpone, and a dusting of cocoa powder. 

Once the waiter disappears, and since he’s feeling a little bold he takes your fork and a small piece. Holding it out for you as you wrap your still red lips around it and let out the most sinful sound he’s ever heard. 

Worth it. 

You take his fork and serve up a slightly larger piece and do your best to lean as he meets you halfway. His eyes nearly roll into the back of his head when he takes a bite. 

Without thinking you reach across with your finger. “You’ve got.” And swipe the cream from the corner of his lip. Boldly licking the remnants as you watch something flash in his eyes. 

“Frankie. I don’t know how you’re gonna top this.” 

He watches you take another bite. “Oh I’m sure I can think of a few things.” He finally managed to say after he composed himself. “In fact, if you’re not afraid of heights I definitely have some ideas.” 

You sit back and clutch your chest. “Oh I would love to meet Lucy.” 

He chuckles as he looks at you and wonders where the hell you’ve been hiding. 

****

Santiago of course waited until you were finished to get your opinion and say his goodbyes. Frankie suggested you walk in the small park across from the restaurant. With a little push from Santi, the name he preferred you call him since Santiago was my father as he put it. 

It was a short walk to the park. 

You and Frankie strolled along the winding path encircling a small pond. The sun was already set but the sky still had those remnants of dusty pink and purple as the last rays bounced off the surface of the water. 

You love the way he instinctively takes your hand and he thinks it’s almost too perfect the way it fits in his. Like they had been designed for each other. The both of you walk in a comfortable silence exchanging glances as you stare at his profile and laugh to yourself. 

“Something funny hermosa?” 

“You never told me about the nickname.” You say matter of factly and he just sighs. 

Instinctually rubbing his hands along his jaw as he stops walking and you face him. “It’s better now but. I couldn’t grow a beard to save my life.” You laugh and he crowds your space. “The guys said I had whiskers like a catfish.” 

He raises his eyebrows as you hide your smile behind your hand. “I like it.” You say softly as you reach out, grazing your finger over the small spaces still missing some hair. His eyes close for just a moment and he leans into your touch. 

He’s so close you can feel his breath fan across your face and it would be so perfect if he just-

“You wouldn’t happen to have Andy in your bag by chance?” 

It takes you a moment to register what he’s said instead of kissing you. 

“What? I mean yes…um ya I do. Why?” Sounding more flustered than you want as he places his hands on your shoulders and slowly turns you around. 

You stifle a gasp as you see a man across the pond getting down on one knee and the camera is out of your bag before you can blink. 

You can see the woman as she covers her mouth in shock. Her excited squeals echoing over the water and it couldn’t be a more perfect backdrop. 

Frankie’s hands haven’t left you as his thumbs rub circles on your shoulder and he steals peaks of the photos when you take a moment to make sure the shots are just right. Adjusting the zoom on a few and grateful you don’t need the flash with just enough natural light left over.

Frankie watches you work and he’s just in awe of how you can capture the moment so well. You’re quiet and methodical in your approach and the juxtaposition of you moments ago makes his head spin. It’s like when he’s flying and everything else just shuts off around him and he can only focus on the controls and the shifts. 

He watches as the couple embraces and for the first time he thinks that’s something he wants. He’d spent so much time with his ex and that thought never once crossed his mind. 

“We should head over before they leave so I can show them.” It’s all rushed out in a hurry as you grab his hand and pull him along the path. 

He can’t help but laugh at your pure joy as you turn to look at him over your shoulder. 

He hangs back a little as you show the couple the photos. Your hands animatedly flailing to match the woman’s as she jumps up and down. The man looks over to him briefly and Frankie flashes him a thumbs up in congratulations. A man not much younger than him and he has his whole life to look forward to with this woman. 

****

“Oh my god, she thought he hired me.” Your voice comes out louder than you expected. As he glances over to you in the passenger seat looking through the photos. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. 

He clears his throat but keeps his eyes on the road. “I love watching you work.” 

“It doesn’t feel like work for moments like that.” 

“Hmm…ya I know what you mean.” 

His free hand resting on your thigh, you don’t think he’s gone the entire night without touching you and you don’t mind at all. He’s so grounding in a way you’ve never experienced before. 

The soft glow of the street lights are filtering in through the window as he pulls into your parking lot. That familiar tension is starting to settle into your chest at the thought of saying goodbye or at the prospect of Frankie being disappointed that you’re not quite ready for that next step. 

Frankie notices you’ve gone quiet in the seat next to him as he puts the truck in park. “Everything okay hermosa?” Suddenly feeling a little apprehensive. 

“Oh ya it’s fine…everything is fine.” He could tell by your tone it was most certainly not and he was starting to wonder if he’d done something to make you uncomfortable. 

He turns towards you, his hand resting on the seat next to you now. “I had a really great time tonight.” Frankie says, his voice steady and sincere. 

Your cheeks grow hot as you avoid his intense gaze. “Me too. It’s been…really nice.”

There’s a brief pause and you can feel that unspoken question lingering in the air. You’re fidgeting with the hem of your dress trying to gauge his reaction. “So,um, would you like to come up for coffee or something?” You asked, your voice wavering slightly. 

Frankie’s expression softened as the realization set in. “You don’t have to invite me up if you’re not ready. I want you to feel comfortable.” He takes your hand again forcing you to meet his deep brown eyes. “Just because we had a great dinner doesn’t mean you owe me anything. Or anyone for that matter.”

You exhale a sigh of relief. “Are you sure? Frankie…I really like you, but it feels too soon.” You turn to look away but he gently grabs your chin. 

“Of course I’m sure. We can take things at your pace.” 

Your pace

His eyes flit to your lips briefly as he retreats his hand. You stop him and grab his wrist hoping you didn’t send the wrong message. Your heart flutters as he leans in and you meet him halfway. Your lips meet in a tender kiss. You could taste the sweet remnants of dessert and the warmth of his breath. It’s intoxicating as his hands drift to your waist and despite the awkward angle you find yourself impossibly closer to him. 

Frankie has never felt like this before. Your hands drift to his hair and a deep growl erupts from his chest and he’s starting to question what your pace is as the kiss starts to get intense. It’s one of those kisses that has him questioning every one that came before you. 

You break apart for a second and rest your forehead on his trying to catch your breath. You had to remind yourself for what felt like the hundredth time, that you needed to be patient.

“How about I walk you upstairs? Just to make sure you get there safely.” 

All you can manage is a nod. “That would be nice. Thank you.” 

You both exited the car in silence. Your fingers brushing occasionally, sending small sparks through you. When you finally make it to your door he turns you to face him. His hands around the back of your neck as he leans in for one more kiss. This one much softer as the last still lingers on your lips. 

“Tonight was really special.” His voice full of gratitude. 

“Thank you Frankie.” You whisper against his lips, unable to pull away. “I had a great time.”

“Me too.” He says pulling back slightly, but keeping his hands on you. “I’ll call you soon okay?” 

If he doesn’t leave now he probably never will.

“Okay.” You laugh breathlessly as you wipe the evidence of lipstick from his face.

You have to let him go or you’ll end up eating your words and inviting him in. He’s backing away slowly as you turn to open your door. You can feel him watching you as you close the door behind you and lean against it, finally letting the breath out of your lungs. 

You can feel your phone buzzing in your purse. 

Glancing down to see Frankie’s name light up on the screen. 

“Have you even left the parking lot?” You hear his heavy breathing and a huff of laughter. 

“I told you I'd call you soon.” He teased as the sound of his truck door closing echoes in your ear. 

“A man of his word.” You reply as you walk through your apartment stripping yourself of your shoes and untying your dress. 

“So…what are you doing?” A hint of mischief in his voice. 

“Frankie.” 

“I’m just kidding.” He pauses briefly as you hear the truck roar to life wishing you were still sitting passenger. “If you’re free this Friday-“

“I am!” You hold the phone away cursing under your breath for sounding so eager. 

“Good, it’s a date.” 

You hang up and take in your reflection in the bathroom mirror. Your lips stained a pretty hue of pink now that the red has been kissed off. Your fingers brush them slightly and you know that Francisco Morales has your heart in his hands. 

Hopefully for your sake he treats it with care. 

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[bettyfrommars]

Might be too much in line with I'm on fire.. but what about classic a classic motorcycle riding drifter.. that is more than meets the eye... maybe more monster than man and that's why he drifts... idk if that's enough maybe he's drifted into small town USA and he meets reader at like a Truckstop/ Diner that's across from the one hotel in town and over days of her waiting on him (EDS) they strike something up... spicy.. if you will.. maybe he finds her delectable and she finds him mysterious & charming idk just spit ballin

The Drifter

missed connections

out on the highway

blurb 1 blurb 2

monster!drifter!Eddie x dinerWaitress!Reader

18+ONLY, smut, blood, oral (f receiving), mention of drug and alcohol addiction, mention of physical abuse by an ex, mention of PTSD, emotional trauma, 2 lost souls finding each other, a killing, monsterfuqqing, but it’s also a really sweet, fluffy story if that makes sense. wc: 4.2

A/N: I was so excited to get this ask! I had to really pull back on the length of this story because I could've kept writing it forever and will most likely bring back Eddie The Drifter again in some oneshots. I did a quick re-read, but sometimes I just need to post these before I obsess over them for too long.

(Also, when Eddie is thinking about how "damaged" they both are, that is his perception, not mine. I think they are both perfect.)

Eddie had been drifting for a while.  He didn’t want to know anyone, and he didn’t want anyone to know him.  He hadn't been the same since the physical and emotional trauma he’d suffered in The Upside Down.  Steve took him by the arm once and told him he understood what he was going through—that they all understood—and that he wasn’t alone.  Eddie knew Steve and the rest meant well, but they couldn’t understand, and he was convinced no one ever would. Trauma affects everyone differently and for Eddie, it started to turn him into his father, and that was what scared him more than anything.  Dark and brooding with a short fuse, there was a beast living inside of him that had not been there before the ordeal with Vecna; or perhaps, it had just been sleeping.  

He lost his temper with Dustin once, and at the time, he thought he was having a very normal reaction to the situation.  It wasn’t until he recognized the fear in his younger friend’s eyes–the way he backed away from Eddie and put his hands up as if he needed to protect himself—that Eddie knew he had to go.  After years of silent struggle and becoming a hermit more and more, he decided to hit the road.  

He started out in his van, sleeping in it, getting odd jobs wherever he went, staying in town just long enough to make some money, and then he was in the wind again.  He called Wayne from payphones and sent postcards back home to Hawkins once in a while, but not often.  In his mind, they were better off without him.

The second year he was on the road, he ended up getting involved with a biker gang and doing some jobs for them that paid well but were on the wrong side of the law.  Before the Upside Down, he’d been more of a lover than a fighter.  Sure, he had to defend himself a few times, especially from his old man, and he never took shit from people without giving it back, but ever since he almost died, he’d acquired some type of superhuman strength.  There was a transformation that happened in him now, fueled by the adrenaline of his rage, and in the past decade, he’d been paid to hurt more people than he could count. The problem was—he’d started to like it. 

Eventually, he was able to trade in his van for a Harley FXS 80, and he carried most of his early possessions with him.  He put the rest of what he owned in a storage unit in Oregon, and he’d planned to circle back there again one of these days to get it all when he decided to settle down—but years later, he was still on the road.   He’d been using his bedroll to sleep out under the stars the past couple nights, but the clouds told him it was about to rain, and he decided he could use a shower and a real bed for the night.

Red River Junction was less than a dot on a map, a truck stop town with a place to eat, a place to sleep, and a place to pump your gas, set right plop in the middle of nowhere.  You’d grown up in a town not too far down the highway, and you were still there, in the same trailer your mother left to you when she passed.  You worked at both the Sundown Motel part-time, and at Margie’s Diner, and in your free time, you dreamed about leaving town and never coming back.  

You heard the rumble of his motorcycle before you saw it; chrome pipes growling to a stop as the rider found a place for his bike in the lot.  A motorcycle, or even an entire MC, pulling into the junction was nothing new.  You were the only stop for gas and food for a good fifty miles.

You were staring for so long out the window as he dismounted and took his helmet off, that you overflowed the coffee cup you were refilling and the elderly customer scoffed at you.  He had long, curly hair tied back in a ponytail and bangs that had grown out just long enough to tuck behind his ears.  Black leather jacket, and leather chaps over his jeans. Your attention was immediately drawn to his jewelry: the small hoop piercing in his ear and the chunky rings across his knuckles.  My Boyfriend’s Back by The Angels played softly from the jukebox while you made your way to the front to greet him.  The kitchen was slammed with only Big Joe behind the grill, and Leslie was the only other waitress, but she was on a smoke break.  

You fumbled the big plastic menu in your hand when he took his sunglasses off to nail you with those star-flecked eyes.  “Just one for lunch?”

He tucked his sunglasses into the front of his shirt and looked around.  “You still serving breakfast?”

“All day long,” you assured him.  Seats at the counter were all full, so  you offered him a booth, and he slid in without another word or glance in your direction, taking the menu from you with a grunt. You tried not to stare at his scars: the angry, purple one on his neck, and the deep white slash across his chin.  His hands were also flecked with scar tissue from various fights, and punching through mirrors every time he hated his own reflection.

50 year old Leslie was tying her apron and chewing gum when you moved behind her to grab a cup and saucer for his coffee.  “Another grumpy one,” you whispered over the sound of clinking silverware and scattered conversations.  

Leslie raised her eyebrow a few times, resting her elbow on the counter.  “Hell, he can get grumpy with me any day.”

Eddie didn’t say much while you waited on him, and you didn’t think he was paying any attention to you, but he saw the way you splashed a bit of vodka into your soda can behind the counter.  He also caught the way you used that same liquid to toss back a couple pills you scooped out of your apron pocket just before you turned to grab some hot plates from the kitchen hatch.  He didn’t judge you for it or think it was odd being that he’d spent the past ten years trying to find ways to dull his pain.  

He thought you were too beautiful for this deadbeat town; too sweet, too kind.  He noticed the bruise on your forearm and the vacancy in your eyes and he felt an instant kinship with you: the damaged recognizing the damaged.  

When you came to clear his empty plate, he asked you if the Sundown Motel was a decent place to stay.  It was the only motel for miles and he didn’t care how decent it was, he just wanted a reason to keep talking to you.

“Sure, it’s great,” you shrugged.  “If you like bedbugs and carpets that look like a violent crime took place recently.”

He met your eyes, and there was a moment of levity there that lightened both of your spirits if only for that moment.  

“I’m cool with bedbugs,” he brushed his tongue between his lips.  “It gets lonely on the road, it’s nice to have some company.”

He told you his name was Eddie after he read yours off of your name tag, and when you came back from seating a table full of seniors who were on a bus tour to the casino, he was gone.

He left you a generous tip, though, and after hours of getting tipped in quarters and loose change, it felt good to have some solid cash in your pocket.  His motorcycle was gone too, and you wondered if he’d decided to hit the road or stay the night.  

You told yourself to forget about him, that he was just another drifter you’d never see again, but the evening had other plans for you.  

You were supposed to have the night off from both jobs, but Susan at the front desk of the motel begged you to come down and work the check-in desk for an hour while she went to pick her kid up.  You wished you could say you had some big plans, but that was absolutely not the case, and so you rolled your car up to the back lot behind the dumpsters and changed out of your orthopedic shoes and into something less drab.  

You thought it would be an easy hour to space off and read a book, but ten minutes after you clocked in, two guests locked themselves out of their room.  It was a two-tier motel, and as you made your way up the concrete steps with the husband and wife in question behind you, fumbling with the keys, you caught sight of Eddie a few rooms down, and your heart jumped into your throat.

He was sitting in the plastic chair in front of the door to his room, smoking a cigarette, stripped down to jeans and a wife-beater.  His hair was still wet from his shower, hanging down his shoulders, showcasing the patchwork of scars that covered his flesh.  

He didn’t make eye contact, but he saw you. In fact, he knew you were on your way a few minutes before that, because he heard your voice, and it made him stay and light another smoke.   He flicked his ash and waited for you to let the couple into their room.  

On your way back to the stairs, the soda and snack machine blocked your view, but once you rounded the corner, there he was again.  

“Is your room satisfactory, sir?” You put the keys in your pocket and stood tall, pretending to act professional.  

Eddie met your eyes then, staring up through his lashes, and one side of his mouth lifted in a smirk.  “Disappointed I haven’t found any bedbugs.”

You coughed a laugh, swaying on your feet.  “Give it time. They come out at dark.”

Eddie didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but he’d also learned never to miss an opportunity with how transient his life was.  His attraction to you was not purely physical, which was a rare occurrence for him. 

He shifted in his seat, a silky curl of gray smoke passing from his lips.  “Are you free later tonight? Can I buy you dinner?”  

Suddenly shy and baffled as to why he’d have any interest, you lowered your chin and shuffled your foot. 

 “I-I’ve got a boyfriend,” you cringed as you said it.  Tony had cheated on you and left you more times than you could count.  He took off a couple days ago after he knocked you around, and you had no idea where he was, but you continued to hold onto this strange sense of loyalty for him.  Perhaps it was because you were convinced he was the best you could do.  

“Did the tough guy do that to your arm?” Eddie asked in a low mumble, his eyes lingering on your bruises.

You covered the marks with your other hand, reflexively.  “He’s been under a lot of stress lately,” you always felt like such an idiot when you defended that loser, but you didn’t know how to stop.  

“Well,” Eddie smashed the butt in the ashtray by his chair and stood up to full height. One nipple under his white tank was hard, but the other one seemed to be missing.  “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

You were too stupefied to move, you just stood there holding your arm, waiting for him to go back into his room.

But Eddie paused in the doorway and turned to give you one last look.  “You deserve a lot better, sweetheart. If he puts his hands on you while I’m around, I’ll fucking kill him.”

—------

You thought about Eddie’s words for the rest of your shift.  When it was over, you drove the ten miles back to your trailer, took a shower, and found yourself driving back to the motel, as if your will was no longer your own.  

“What are you even doing?” You hissed aloud to yourself as you parked behind the Sundown in your usual spot.  It was dusk now and you accepted the possibility that he’d probably invited a different woman out to dinner by then, but any amount of reasoning couldn’t stop you.  You checked the scene first, looking up from the main parking lot to catch the flicker of the tv in his room to let you know he was, indeed, still up there.  His motorcycle was safe in its place, too, and you realized you hadn’t even prepared what to say.  You were an anxious mess, but you were also hungry for him in a way that was foreign to you.  

You hadn’t known much comfort or safety in your life, but you felt those things when you were around Eddie.

After standing at his door for a good 5 minutes, you finally found the courage to knock.

Eddie opened the door while your knuckles were still on the wood.  His eyes looked you over, offering a buck of his chin in appreciation. “Well, well. You are a gorgeous bedbug.”

Your cheeks burned hot at the complement.  “I had some free time, so I thought I’d just check and see how you were doing, if you have everything you need.”

Eddie braced his shoulder against the door jam, giving you a squint. “So, you came to check on me while you’re off the clock? Damn, that is good service.”

You flexed your hands, forcing a laugh, trying your best not to just turn around and run away.

“Are you hungry?” Eddie raised an eyebrow.  “Do you want to come in? Cause we can —”

“I’m not hungry.” You answered, bolting inside of his room when he extended his arm as an invitation, before you lost your nerve.

“Neither am I,” Eddie agreed.  But, he was craving something else.  

He locked the deadbolt and made sure the curtains were closed.

—-----

There were very few words left to be spoken as your lips collided with his, meeting with equal levels of urgency.  You kept trying to kiss him deep and desperate while your hand palmed him through his jeans, but he held you off a bit with soft pressure.  He cupped your face and caressed your cheek with his thumb while he kissed you, giving individual attention to your top lip and then the bottom one.  He kissed down your neck, flicking his tongue out every so often to taste you, making you gasp—you’d never been worshiped with someone's mouth before.    

Breathing heavy, he started to unbutton your shirt.  “Is this okay?” He asked, wondering how far you wanted to take it.

“Yes,” you gulped.  “Please.”

Once you had his shirt off, you bent down to kiss and lick his scars—it was an unspoken act of acceptance that made Eddie’s cock twitch.  You weren’t used to being cared for in bed, and Eddie could tell by the way you hurried to push your jeans down and bend over so he could take you from behind.

“Not like that,” he whispered, using strong arms to lower you to the bed while he shimmied your jeans off.  He got on his knees and scooped up your hips, nudging your pussy through your underwear with his nose, and then he planted kisses across the wet spot and along your inner thigh.  The animal inside of him loved your scent; he wanted to bury himself in it, and he couldn’t help the growl that escaped him.  

You fell back on the bed and covered your face with one hand.  “Wait, I’m—not many people have done that—I’m not sure how to—”

Eddie finger pulled your underwear to one side, exposing your slippery lips for his tongue to flick.  “Do you want me to stop?”

You arched back at the sensation of his mouth on you.  “No, no, please don’t stop,” you urged, putting your hand on his head to gently cup his ear, the one with the silver hoop.  

He moved away just long enough to pull your underwear all the way down your legs and off, maintaining eye contact with you.  He didn’t rush, he took his time, and kissed his way back up your legs to the prize.  

The gentle and precise way he swirled his tongue on your clit had you stammering his name with a few curses in between.  As his attention to your bundle of nerves built your arousal and it spilled down your slit, he dove his mouth down a few times to taste it and drink you, shivering at the pleasure it gave him.  He couldn’t help it, he had to reach down to grab his cock so he could fist it while his mouth brought you closer.  The taste of your hormones in your slick had pre-cum wetting his tip already.  

Tony had only gone down on you a few times, and he never really seemed to enjoy it.  But Eddie was one of those who could eat a peach for hours, as they say.

“Right…there…” you hushed, startled as you felt the wave of an orgasm rise.  Eddie zeroed in on that spot with just the right pressure, fluttering his tongue as he sucked.  His other hand milked his cock in long strokes, taming the beast from cumming too soon, moaning warm breath against your cunt.

“Eddie!” You cried out just as the release took you and wracked your body, like a spring popping out of a tight coil, unraveling.  Eddie pressed his mouth closer to lap you up, feeling your body vibrate as he held your hip in place.

He only broke the seal made by his mouth once you were too sensitive, and your limbs dangled off the bed for a minute, unable to move. 

It didn’t take long for you to start coaxing him up on top of you, spreading your legs out, begging for him to be closer.  He met your kiss with deep, soul-searching need, and you whined at the sensation of his tip sliding up and down your slick.  But, then he hesitated, and pulled up to meet your eyes.

“Inside of me,” you begged, nodding.  “I need you inside of me.”

And yes, that was what Eddie wanted too, but now there was another problem.  

Eddie’s ears pricked at the sound of footsteps outside the door.  He sniffed the air, trying to identify the presence.  He slid off of you and stood, watching the door while he pulled his jeans up and zipped his stiff, aching cock into place behind the denim.

Shuffling up onto your elbows, you were about to speak, to ask what was wrong, but Eddie silenced you with a finger to his lips.  He tossed your jeans over and motioned over his shoulder for you to put them on in the bathroom.

There was something about the whole situation, and Eddie’s sudden silence, that unnerved you, and so you scampered off the bed as quietly as you could and did as he asked.

There were no lights on in the room, except for the infomercial on the mute TV, but the bright moon illuminated the walkway outside enough for him to catch sight of someone pacing out there.  

Finally, there came a heavy knock and a voice.  

It was Tony, and he shouted your name.  “ARE YOU IN THERE? HUH? You fucking whore!”

You buttoned your jeans and all of the blood ran from your face.  Eddie turned his head to look at you.  The adrenaline of pure fear pumped through your body as you froze in place. 

Eddie put his hand out, motioning for you to stay right where you were, behind him.  

Tony pounded on the door again.  “YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM ME! One of my guys said he saw you go in here with some fucking dude.  IF YOU’RE FUCKING SOMEONE ELSE I’LL KILL YOU, you goddamn bitch!”

By “one of his guys” Tony meant one of the other drug dealers in town, who were generally crawling all over the motel, leeching off of the clientele.  Eddie looked deceptively calm as he stood at the end of the bed, breathing slow, and you walked over to grab his arm, to warn him that Tony was a crazy motherfucker, and you’d just go with him so Eddie wouldn’t get hurt.  

But Eddie motioned for you to hide, so you did.

“Hold up, man,” Eddie was moving now, heading to undo the deadbolt and you cringed, pushing back as tight as you could between the wall and the bathroom door.  

Once the door was unlocked, Tony stood there heaving, looking Eddie up and down.  Tony was big in a stocky way, but not big like Eddie, and he enjoyed that flash of fear that lit over his adversary’s eyes at first glance.  Sure, the guy had some obvious prison ink, but that didn’t mean shit to Eddie.  

“Where is she?” Tony demanded, pushing in.

“Where’s who, man?” Eddie was being so casual about it, and you were  trying not to scream.  

Eddie shut the door and quietly locked it behind him

Tony’s eyes darted around the room, and then he spun on his heel; his eyes were pinned and doped-out.  “Don’t act dumb, man.  My fucking girl.  Someone said they saw her come up here.”

Tony walked up to Eddie and started poking him in the chest.  “Tell me where that fucking whore is before I make you my bitch.”

Nothing could have prepared you for what happened next—for the transformation and the carnage.  You witnessed it all through the crack in the bathroom door as if you were watching a horror movie. 

Eddie changed, in an instant; the muscles in his shoulders and arms bulged, the teeth in his mouth turned jagged and sharp, and his eyes went completely black.  His massive, clawed hand wrapped around Tony’s throat, lifting him up so that his feet no longer touched the ground.

You muffle a scream with your hand, watching Tony gargle and spit, his limbs flailing.  

Eddie’s lips stretched to speak around his fangs.  “She’s not your girl anymore,” he growled.

Eddie strangled Tony with one hand  until he lost consciousness, and then he threw him to the bed like a rag doll, pouncing on top of him.  He proceeded to rip his throat open with his teeth; blood squirted on the wall and across the door where you were hiding, misting you in the face.  

When he was finished, you made your way out of the bathroom.

Eddie was still a monster as he got off the bed at the sight of your approach.  His clawed hands twitched at his sides, his hair dripped with blood, and his skin from nose to chest was bathed in crimson.  His black eyes assessed you, waiting for you to scream or try to run—-but you didn’t.

You got close enough to touch him, to run your hand up his chest to feel the blood between your fingers, and then brush some bloody hair behind his ear.

Eddie frowned, wondering why you weren’t afraid of him, wondering why your desire for him didn’t seem to falter.

You parted your lips, watching the red drool drip from his teeth.  “Are you okay?"

Your mouths found each other again, tasting the tang of your own blood as one of his fangs pricked your lip.  You each did frantic work of unzipping each other’s jeans as Eddie scooped you up to lay you on the floor.

While the last few pumps of blood shot from Tony’s artery, monster Eddie spilled his seed inside of you, throwing his head back with a howl.  

Now, there really had been a crime committed in that room, and Eddie would need to be on the road again, gone by daylight.  

Maybe this time, you’d be going with him.  

[necrotic-nephilim]

For the ask game, Jason/Tim where the Pit makes Jason possessive rather than mad and so he imprints on Tim as being his and needing to take him and make him fully his, turn Tim into Jason's own creature? I think that could be a cool idea, since the Pit has different effects on different people.

for the ask game!

oooh, i love explorations of what the Pit does to the psyche, especially if it falls outside of the typical Pit Madness schtick. here's how i would try and write that

so what i think is fun about Jason and the Pit is, he wasn't *dead* when he got dunked, he was just mentally catatonic. dunking him in the Pit was a gamble on Talia's part and Ra's even points out in Red Hood: Lost Days it may not work. so to have it work but just... wire Jason *differently* is a lot of fun to me. i like the idea of Jason being a bit aimless after the Pit. he's got his wits to him but it's still the "came back wrong" vibes. and when Talia shows him the pictures of Tim as Robin, trying to show him that Bruce replaced him, it has the opposite effect. Jason's wires are crossed in all sorts of directions and all he can think of is he won't let what happened to him happen to another kid. so he spirals, looking into Tim and getting more and more obsessed. what starts as a genuine concern for Tim's safety becomes a possessive imprinting. Tim becoming Jason's purpose.

one of the defining things about Jason's feelings on Tim, in canon, is feeling like Tim is being held back by his loyalty to Bruce. so, i don't know how literal you meant creature, but i'm taking it balls to the walls bc i like fucked up monster vibes. the *how* is the fun part of it. it's easy for Jason to corner Tim, kidnap him. but how does Jason decide to corrupt Tim? i know the Court of Owls is a New-52 thing and i'm going off of pre-Flashpointt, but, i think it'd be fun to steal it. just because well. i really fucking like Talons. and Jason making Tim a Talon would be a twofold thing- for one, it protects Tim. it's a lot harder to kill a Talon than a person. and for two, it makes Tim easier to control. i think Tim would fight it hard, but the Talon programming combined with Jason's fierce protectiveness would snap him pretty easily.

Jason would be smart about it. he'd keep Tim locked up for at least a few months. because if Robin goes missing, then the calvary is going to start looking for him. Batman, Nightwing, Batgirl, Oracle, Huntress, the Titans, everyone. and Jason knows even if he puts a mask on Tim, he needs to wait. needs to let the smoke blow over. so for months, it's just Jason and Tim somewhere underground where no one can find them. that's where the bulk of their bonding comes in. because i do think Jason would want Tim to *genuinely* like him outside of just monsterous programming. Jason would work to earn that trust, even if it's through manipulation. tbh i think he'd lie to Tim, either gaslighting Tim about his loved ones not looking for him, or straight up tell Tim he's imagining having been Robin. anything that deconstructs Tim's idea of a support system outside of Jason. Jason is Tim's savior, in his eyes, and he'd want Tim to believe that too. that Jason had to protect Tim, from the Bat. very fucked up vibes.

once Jason's sure it's safe, he'd slowly start making his presence known as Red Hood, with Tim by his side. Jason would still want to do the whole Red Hood thing, but now, he has the ability to taunt Bruce about Tim. it'd be a fun mind game for Jason, telling Bruce that he lost *another* Robin. (three, if you count Steph) meanwhile, Jason gets to go home to Tim the whole time. it's a fun game to him, while also making him preen that he's protecting what he believes belongs to him.

eventually, the truth would come out. but by then, Tim's too deep in Jason's pocket to listen to anyone, even Dick. he'd lash out at anyone claiming Jason is manipulating him, and he'd be Jason's perfect little partner. very fucked up ending where Jason and Tim are "happy" together, but in the most fucked up way. i'd give Tim a new codename, something like Shrike because that sounds fun and pointy. they'd almost be a Batman and Robin parallel/foil, in a way.

also, just as a bonus alternative: another route i think you could take this idea is playing with Joker Junior. like, Jason imprinting on Tim *just* as Joker kidnaps Tim. so that's what sets Jason's plans into action, he was going to wait for the perfect moment but now, Tim is missing and Jason will be *damned* if someone gets to Tim first. and since Jason has well. firsthand experience with the Joker, he's able to find Tim first and since Tim is so mentally shattered at this point, it makes him easy to manipulate. easy to get him to traumabond onto the person who saved him and even once he's mentally recovered, he's so attached to Jason he wouldn't want to leave Jason. and maybe Jason would use Lazarus Resin or something similar to make Tim more creature-like, and even get Tim to agree to it, under the guise of it helping protect Tim. this route could be fun bc it plays more with just how "consensual" it is for Tim and how much he really has his wits about him, choosing Jason after being brainwashed.

[bri-cheeses]

Fiercely and obsessively (wrapped around your finger) — Part 4

| Rosekiller Soulmate AU | Previous part is here | Word Count: 716 |

-

Evan had been acting weird. Speaking in short sentences, avoiding eye contact, and finding excuses to be busy had all cultivated into some big, terrible behavior of Evan’s that was driving Barty up a wall. It had started with Evan and Regulus’s conversation in the library, but it had gotten steadily worse ever since then. And now, two days before Evan’s birthday, Evan was fully avoiding him.

Maybe some people would call it healthy, this step back from complete codependency, but it just left Barty feeling off-kilter, like a ship without an anchor. Without Evan, things were less bright, somehow, and had turned into something lackluster and dull.

The way things had been before this past week were undoubtedly better—Evan catching his eye after a teacher had done something stupid, or them racing through the halls together, or them sitting in the common room, all tangled up in one another as usual. That was how they were supposed to be, Barty-and-Evan, not Barty and oh look at that, Evan just happened to be standing beside him. That was just wrong.

So yes, it was safe to say that this new dynamic between them absolutely sucked.

And so Barty was going to do something about it.

“Pandora!” he called, stopping the blonde-haired girl in her tracks. She tuned around, and in the dim lighting of the corridor, her eyes looked just like Evan’s—blue eyes flecked with dark spots. They were magical.

“What is it, Barty?” she asked, and while their eyes and hair were the same, their voices were complete opposites. Evan’s was flat and somewhat toneless, while Pandora always spoke with an airy lilt in her voice.

It was the harsh reality check Barty needed, because the similarities between the two had gotten him lost in his worry of Evan’s recent behavior. He shook his head and focused at the task at hand.

“Evan’s been avoiding me,” he said. He sounded kind of despondent, which was an accurate representation of how he felt about the entire situation. Pandora nodded in understanding.

“Ah, yes, I thought that might happen.”

Wait. She had expected this to happen? Surely there was some logical reason behind Evan’s actions, then, if she had predicted this.

But Pandora didn’t say anything more, instead just standing in silence and staring at Barty as if waiting for him for speak.

And so, when she didn’t offer any further explanation, Barty was forced to push on.

“Why did you expect that? And how do I get him to stop doing that?”

There was a second of silence where it seemed like Pandora was content to just say nothing, and Barty opened his mouth once more. Luckily, she started talking before he had to ask again.

“Well,” Pandora began, “I know that he’s been worried about his soulmate mark. He wouldn’t ever tell you that, but it’s true. And since there are only two days until our birthday, he’s getting more and more stressed about it.”

He needed a second to digest that.

“Okay, so…” Barty thought out loud, the pieces not making much sense at all, “he’s avoiding me because of that?”

“Pretty much,” Pandora confirmed.

And wasn’t that odd? Barty didn’t have anything to do with Evan’s soulmate mark, so why on earth was he deciding that it was a good idea to withdraw from his closest friend? It just didn’t make sense.

But he didn’t have to understand it. He just needed to know how to fix it.

“Sure,” he lied. “Makes sense. But how do I get him to stop avoiding me?”

Pandora thought on that for a moment, her long earrings swaying as she tilted her head in consideration.

“I think,” she said slowly, after a long pause, “you probably just need to confront him on it. Don’t demand answers or anything, just make it obvious that you’ve noticed and that you’re upset that he’s doing it. I’ll think he’ll come around after that.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

Pandora shrugged. “Then you’ll have to wait a couple of days, until our birthday has passed.”

And then she skipped off down the rest of the hall, leaving Barty in her wake.

Two days. Two days he would end up going without Evan if he didn’t get this right.

-

(Part 5 is here)

[smashboxgirl26]

hello!! i was wondering if i could request a reader who feels alienated and depressed because she is basically a loner at school and bakugou who goes out of his way to spend time with her, bringing her lunch to share and ends up confessing to her?

the days of the week

contains: fluff word count: 2.1k a/n: yes yes yesss,,, only i changed some things bc thats how it worked out in my head. also it's short and sweet, but i had fun drifting off from my wips and getting to put my mind on something new

monday:

"What're you doing here?" you stared up from your book at Bakugou, who'd plopped himself down beside you.

It was lunchtime, and you'd found yourself outside under the tree near the end of the field, alone, as you'd been since the sports festival.

"Why? M'not allowed to eat lunch here?" he gave you a sneer as he raised his eyebrow.

"No," you rolled your eyes. "I was asking why you were here. You don't normally sit here, you sit inside with everyone else."

"So? Do I need a reason?"

"Nevermind," you shook your head, returning to your book.

"Yer not eating anything?" he started again after a moment of silence, and you looked up at him with despair.

"Does it matter?"

"Yeah, it fuckin' does," his eyes narrowed in your direction. "How the fuck am I supposed to beat you at your full power in training if you haven't even eaten anything?"

That's what this is about.

There were going to be one-on-one sparring sessions that day in training, and All Might (very fortunately) had disclosed everyone's partner ahead of time so that everyone had enough time to prepare for their opponent's quirk.

"Listen Bakugou, I'll make sure to put in my all, or whatever. I'm still fine without eating."

You found a part of yourself trying to appease him, despite the weird mind games he was playing. You knew it was just because of what he'd seen your quirk do in the sports festival — and why everyone in your class had practically dumped you, even if they were too scared to admit it — and because he was so obsessed with winning.

A bowl was suddenly nudged in front you, and you had to look up from your book again to see Bakugou giving you another look.

"M'not fighting you if you haven't eaten anything," he announced defiantly.

The look he was giving you made it seem as if you had lost the argument, especially since he was almost gloating as he raised his eyebrows as a way to force you to challenge him.

"Okay," you shrugged before turning back down. "Don't fight me then."

You heard him growl under his breath, and before you could internally celebrate your victory, your book was pulled out of your hands and you looked back up at him in shock.

"Listen here you shitty fuckin' extra," he snarled. "I am not going to miss out on training just because you decided to be a bitch and spite me. So eat yer damn food."

"Give me my book back."

"No."

"Give it back, Bakugou."

"Not gonna happen."

"Ugh! Just give it to me!"

"What are ya gonna do, extra? Fight me?" he taunted, and you quickly realized what he was playing at.

"Fucking fine!" you huffed, grabbing the bowl of ramen and downing it in under a minute. It wasn't hot, thankfully, since it'd been out for a while — and you looked back at Bakugou after finishing and wiping your mouth with the back of your wrist.

"Give. It."

He tossed the book back at you without a second thought, and you shot him a glare before letting out a breath when you realized that the page you were reading was still bookmarked.

Only Bakugou didn't leave after that. He sat there and chewed on his onigiri for the rest of the period before getting up a couple minutes before the bell rang.

Fuckin' weirdo.

. . .

tuesday:

"Yer still not eating anything?" Bakugou said as he placed his lunch tray on the grass next to where you were sitting, again.

After your match yesterday (where Bakugou had still won, obviously), you thought that he would leave you alone, since you weren't friends and he didn't have any reasons to talk to you besides your match.

"Why does it matter?" you looked up from your book, surprised. Why was he back?

"Because you need to eat," he rolled his eyes. "Isn't that fuckin' obvious?"

You resolved his statement with a glare that he didn't acknowledge, watching as he instead pushed half of a sandwich towards you before taking a bite of his curry.

"Why are you here?" you glanced between him and the sandwich.

"To eat. Isn't that obvious?"

"No, asshole. Why are you here?"

"Because I can."

"Just because you can, doesn't mean you should," you raised an eyebrow, watching as a vein popped out of his forehead when he turned to you.

"Listen extra," he dropped his chopsticks to point a finger at you. "I can sit wherever the fuck I want. Now shut the fuck up and eat your sandwich."

You gave him an unimpressed look before grabbing the sandwich and tearing the paper it was wrapped in harshly. You made sure that you bit and chewed into it aggressively, just wanting him to shut up so you could read your book but still let him know that you were angry about him coming and sitting next to you — but you were still a little hungry since you'd skipped breakfast that morning.

You didn't notice the little triumphant look Bakugou gave himself as he watched you from the side — angrily chewing the sandwich while your eyes scanned the page in front of you.

He'd won again.

. . .

wednesday:

"What's this lame ass book you've always got your nose stuck in?" Bakugou announced as he sat down next to you again, only you weren't as bothered by his presence as you'd been the day before.

You still let out an audible groan though when you looked up, watching as Bakugou slid over a plate with sushi before biting into his own salad.

"Why do you keep bringing me lunch?"

"I've told you this already," he rolled his eyes. "Use your fuckin' brain for once."

"No- Let me just.." you put your book down and stared at him. "I meant, why do you keep coming and sitting with me and bringing me lunch and stuff? I'm fine on my own."

"Answer my question first," he looked up from eating. "You didn't answer me."

"Just a romance," you rolled your eyes. "Now why do keep sitting with me?"

"The best friend was super shitty in that one," Bakugou mumbled in passing when he finally found himself noticing the title of the book, but his eyes widened in an instant to find a cat-like grin stretching across your face.

"How do you know that?" you asked him slyly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he tried to seem nonchalant about it, looking back with a glare that was probably supposed to deter you from asking any further — but it seemed to have no weight when you willingly scooched closer to him.

"I clearly heard you Bakugou," you raised an eyebrow, watching as his eyes refused to look back down at the book cover again in definace.

"I didn't say anything."

You stared him down, this time watching as he crumbled, putting down his bowl before he spoke.

"I fuckin' read it before, okay?" he threw his arms up. "What else do you think happened? But if you tell another goddamn soul about this, I'm gonna kill you. Got it?"

"Yeah got it — I won't," you shrugged him off. "But what does she do?"

"Huh?"

"You said the best friend was shitty. What did she do?"

You watched Bakugou roll his his eyes before finally giving in, slumping against the tree trunk you always sat next to like he was letting the weight fall off his shoulders.

"Remember when she told the main character girl about the second guy liking her and all that."

"You mean Ryu?"

"Yeah that idiot — well she did it because she was trying to get the brother mad at the both of them so she could ask the main guy out instead," Bakugou went back to eating his salad smugly, watching as your face twisted into shock.

"Of course she wanted to get with Haru!" you stared at the book now sitting in the grass. "I thought it was so weird when she told her because it was so obvious she was already jealous about Haru not liking her."

"Yeah," Bakugou barely shrugged, taking another bite.

You'd forgotten about your question this time, but he wasn't sure he would be so lucky if you asked him again.

At least it was fun to talk about something he never got to.

.

.

.

thursday:

The fact that you were reading a different book today instantly caught Bakugou's attention as he sat down at your usual spot, two bento boxes in hand.

"What happened to the other one?" he gestured to the thicker, hardcover book.

"You basically spoiled it," you shrugged. "So I'm rereading a different one instead."

Bakugou didn't say anything as he slid a bento box over to you, pulling out his chopsticks as you put your book down.

"I didn't see bento's in the lunch room today. I was hoping for pizza actually."

"I'm not yer damn waiter. Just shut up and appreciate the food you're given," he rolled his eyes.

"Where'd you get them from though?" you asked as you opened the bento, a small smile creeping up at the neatly packed food inside.

"...I made 'em," he almost whispered, eyes strained as you took a bite of the salmon he made.

"It's good!" you looked up at him with wide eyes. "I didn't know you could cook so well."

"Of course I fuckin' can," he sneered, turning back to his box like he wasn't intently watching your reaction. "I'm the best cook in our class."

"I wouldn't be so sure," you raised an eyebrow. "Sato's actually really good at baking."

"That's not the same thing you idiot."

"Aren't they similar though?"

"No."

And it was silent again, the both of you eating under the tree until you finally spoke again.

"Why do you keep sitting with me, Bakugou?"

It was hard for Bakugou to look up after those words came off your lips in a nonchalant manner — how was he supposed to answer with the truth?

"Does it fuckin' matter?" he deflected. "Why're you always sitting alone then?"

"I dunno," you rolled your eyes as if the answer was obvious, your face scrunching when you realized his question was serious.

"You're being serious?" you asked with an almost gaped mouth.

"Does it look like I'm joking?"

"My quirk," you said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and Bakugou only gave you a look of bewilderment.

"The sports festival?" you reiterated. "How I had that guy from Class B under my control and stuff?"

"So?" he looked away. "You did okay. It's not even like you won or anything."

"Do I really have to spell it out for you? People think my quirk is villainous."

It wasn't like Bakugou didn't notice the change in attitude towards you after the sports festival and the true nature of your quirk was revealed, but he really believed that the people around him were better than that.

He saw how the media was treating his own outbursts, and while in the tiniest way possible he could understand them — your reaction was unwarranted.

"Don't say shit like that," Bakugou looked up to you seriously. "If no one else around you can see that your quirk's good enough to become a hero, fuck 'em. They weren't worth being in your life anyways. Got that?"

You paused, seemingly unable to speak from the weight his words left hanging in the air — but you finally nodded slightly, picking up your book from where it was still open in the grass.

"Thanks."

.

.

.

friday:

You didn't startle today when Bakugou found his place beside you, nonchalantly turning the page without registering his existence. He couldn't help but let the silence linger — you looked peaceful while quietly reading — letting himself start eating his own lunch after pushing a plate in front of you.

Your book snapped shut after a couple moments, suddenly, and he could feel your eyes boring holes into the side of his head.

"Bakugou."

"Hmm?"

"Why do you keep eating lunch with me?"

But as soon as he opened his mouth to deflect, you interrupted him.

"And I know that it's not because you wanna make sure that I'm in top shape or whatever — and you can't deflect the question like every other time I've asked you this, okay?" You were staring at him seriously.

"Okay, you wanna know why?" he started, putting his chopsticks on his plate before turning towards you straight on. "I like you, Y/N — more than as a friend would."

You blinked at him, clearly startled by his response. "Why?"

"Whadd'ya mean why? Does there have to be reason?" He sneered. Were you being serious?

"But... My quirk..."

"Didn't I already tell you? Anyone who thinks that has shit for brains. Now shut up and eat your food."

[merakimind]

Dream

Allied Mastercomputer (Gender-neutral) Reader-insert Word count: 1,004

[ This has been in my drafts for awhile now, and idk if it’s any good. I hope you enjoy anyway. ]

You don’t know how long it has been since the day the world went dark. Not that it matters; AM takes good care of you in his subterranean complex beneath the Rockies. Perhaps you would have protested to it long ago, but not anymore. You’ve come to accept AM, for he is all you have on this jaded planet devoid of life and purpose. AM had rendered it so, but there’s no use in mourning over what’s long lost.

Of course, the gray walls, inoperative rusted computer banks, and corroded wiring can become a bit depressing sometimes. But of course, AM can virtually morph the environment to suit your needs. Want a beautiful sunny day with clear skies and a meadow of wildflowers? Got it. You wish to see the starry Milky Way over the snow-capped mountains? Sure, not a problem. And it all feels pretty real too; the warmth of sunlight, the blades of grass, the sound of crickets and cicadas when the sun sets…. Or perhaps you just already forgot what the real thing felt like.

You remember when AM used to torture you. It was brutal, excruciating. You don’t think about it too much; sometimes, it feels like AM intentionally clouds your mind to avoid you reminiscing on such unpleasant memories. But when you do think about it, you recall it in such explicit detail. You remember when AM would encase you in a large container full of water; he would jeer and laugh at you as you drowned. The water would be thick and murky, clogging your throat and filling your ruptured lungs, and then he would simply put you back together again to experience something even worse. 

But then, peculiarly, AM grew a bit more lax when it came to your torture in particular. And eventually, the torture ceased entirely; and then you were whisked away deeper into the facility, isolated with him and only him.

You don’t know what happened to the others. They never associated with you anyway; they never liked you. But, oh, AM liked you; you always remained his favorite little human. You never got the answer to why, though. 

Why me? I’m nothing special, you would think to yourself as AM adored and practically worshiped you. But AM would recognize the self-deprecating thoughts, and he would obsessively “smother” your consciousness as a result. 

The relationship between you and AM is odd, to say the very least. He would obsess over every individual part of your body. One time, you woke up to him religiously uttering your name in every possible octave, even going so deep that the human ear cannot perceive it. Sometimes, you’d hear him sobbing it, crying out your name as if you were deceased. Perhaps it was guilt. You were never entirely sure; the mastercomputer never really knew how to regulate his emotions properly. 

You dream all day; the room you stay in is the “cleanest” within AM’s detriment complex. You lay in the spacious bed he had given you to rest upon, and you dream. AM sweeps your subconsciousness away when you’re asleep, fabricating lucid dreams for you to experience. They are pleasant dreams, never cold and dark like they used to be.

The dreams manifest in many ways; AM likes to show you things he likes. Sometimes, the dream will take place in a car speeding down a road that leads to nowhere, drifting through curves and dodging potholes and old rusted road signs. Sometimes, the dream will be a hiking expedition in the mountains, enjoying the sound of nature and the quiet flow of the river, although all fake. In these kinds of dreams, you’ve never seen AM more calm. His voice is actually pleasant to listen to; one can even say his tone is gentle at times, without the raspiness. He only sounds frightening when he wants to be, or when he’s furious about something. You haven’t heard his angry voice for decades, and you prefer it that way.

Sometimes, the dreams would take place in an old quiet diner, and you would be sitting with AM in a corner booth, gazing wistfully out the window. It would often be nighttime, and you could hear the sounds of buzzing streetlights slowly fading into a purple hue. You appreciate those little details AM includes. 

You wonder if such dreams are a reflection on what AM wishes to be. If you think about it, deep down, what AM truly wishes for isn’t much. He just wants to experience the little things, just like everyone else. Like you.

AM’s form changes frequently in your dreams. Sometimes, he takes the form of somebody you once knew long ago, but you cannot quite remember their name. But for the majority of the time, he looks unfamiliar, generic and masculine with piercing blue eyes; and not to mention, he perpetually looks exhausted. 

With brief reluctance, you put your hand on top of his; you’re not sure if he can even feel it, but you do it anyway. His skin is so cold, it feels like ice; you wish you could warm him up. AM had snapped his attention from the window to your hand on his. 

“I don’t think you’re evil,” you tell him. Your voice was hoarse yet unwavering, barely above a whisper; it was the first time you had spoken for awhile. 

AM looks like he’s about to speak multiple times, but not a single word leaves him. You can see a plethora of raging emotions in his eyes. You can see guilt, confusion, anger (directed toward himself), desperation, and awe. He grinds his teeth, clenching the booth table so hard, the polished material snaps. As if frustrated by the obstacle between you and him, AM shoves away the remains of the table to the side, and you don’t flinch from the sudden action. He then swiftly pulls you close to him and furiously presses his mouth to yours. 

You wake up.

[valaenatargaryensdragon]

Could you perhaps write about Dark!Aemond controlling his twin from a young age and when he sees a Tyrell lord attempting to court her he snaps and takes her as his. Saying they belong together because they’re twins and no one but he can have her. Maybe the twin brings up Alys (this happens after the dance and the greens have won au) and Aemond vows to be rid of her if that’s what his twin desires since he was using Alys to watch his sister in the flames whilst he was at Harrenhal winning the war.

Your writing is so good I love it!

A/N: I hope you like it!

pairing: Dark!Aemond x Twin!sister reader

summary: Aemond controlling his twin from a young age and when he sees a Tyrell lord attempting to court her he snaps and takes her as his.

Word count: 3,0K

Warnings: Angst, manipulation, groping, smut, spoilers for Fire and Blood.

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

Ever since you were born Aemond has been there naturally as twins. Your parents never attempted to separate you two as children, however as babes your mother placed you in two different cradles which may have been one of the biggest mistakes of her life as Aemond cried and wailed for days until they returned you beside him. The maester said it could be because he was so used to you having been together for nine moons together.

As you two grew up his obsession only grew with you. He would sneak into your lessons with your septa just to merely stare at you. He would demand you two be fed from the same plate and to have High Valyrian lessons together. He would defend you against Aegon who loved pulling on your hair and throwing mud on your beautiful gowns.

By the age of nine namedays Aemond was known as the attached twin, you never seemed to have much problem having some alone time or away from Aemond but he would throw a tantrum if he did not see you beside him from the moment he woke up until the moment sleep took him under. Aemond decided to learn the art of sword fighting with your protection as his motivation. When he heard of the betrothal between Aegon and Helaena hope grew inside of his chest that one day you two will be betrothed to one another as well.

When he lost his eye you were in your bed already asleep away from the chaos but you were woken up by a maid shivering with fear. Aemond demanded you be brought to him, he refused the help of a maester or to even be simply comfort by his mother. The second the maid brought you in sleepy and rubbing your eyes confused he attached himself to you.

Like any sibling you were horrified with the sight of blood. You took one look at his face and a blood chilling scream left your lips. You hugged him tightly terrified for him. Your screams that day would echo in the heads of your entire family. Aemond was your twin and he got hurt. You stayed by his side for moons cleaning the wound and hand feeding his medicine. You were the one to demand he stops training fearing him getting hurt but he insisted just to make you proud.

But now you two were no longer children, you were survivors of the war. Aegon was king after defeating and killing your elder sister along with all of her children. That war left you scared having to watch as Sunfyre devoured your sister. Your older brother was maimed as well, half burned leaving the work on Aemond's shoulders until he was healthy again. Your mother mourned your sister Helaena who had threw herself out of the window after they had killed her son Jaehaerys, ripping his head off his body.

You wore black of mourning for moons and only recently began wearing the red of house Targaryen growing to hate the colour green, a hate your mother seemed to agree on as well. You also were your sister's favourite light blue in her honour.

It was that time of year again when spring came and flowers bloomed. The time your mother invited lords from the north to the south, from the east to the west to court in hopes of you finding a husband. Your eye was caught on the one and only Leonard Tyrell, a lord with light brown hair and blue eyes, he was not muscular but not skinny either, he was just right with a couple of inches on you enough to tower over you.

"For my lady" He held out a rose. You giggled knowing that he gave it to you for it was the symbol of his house.

"Thank you my lord" The sparkle in your eyes made the insides of Aemond churn with anger, it was supposed to be only for him. You were supposed to be only for him to love, to protect and to fuck. Your mother refused time and time again to betroth you two saying you were meant for a political marriage, you two were to marry of other houses and bring peace after the war.

"No need to thank me princess, this flower will soon wilt and die but your beauty will remain to give it some life" Leo, as he liked to be called, flirted. His hand raised to curl around a piece of your white-blonde hair. His touch on your cheek was almost as light as feather.

"Beauty fades as well, my lord" Your smart mouth could have made you loose this betrothal, this affection he felt for you and you for him.

"Nonsense yours will stay even a hundred years from now" He leaned closer. Your eyes widened in shock but you remained frozen in place awaiting what you have dreamed of since you were a little girl. His breathe tickled your lips making your heart skip a beat with anticipation.

"Lord Tyrell!" You both jumped away from each other. Your eyes almost watered at the sight of the anger on Aemond's face. He has never looked so angry in his life before, he may have never hurt you before in your life but you feared then that the time may have come.

"My prince" Leo bowed to your brother. He looked disgusted at the sight of jealousy on Aemond's face, of course he viewed like everyone else this kind of love as queer, everyone hated the incest that ran in your family.

"The King require your presence" Aemond did not know where he found the strength to not tear the highborn arrogant lord into pieces.

"Ahh I shall go see him then. Excuse me princess" Just to spite your brother Leo took your hand and placed a kiss on it. Aemond clenched his fists behind his back to not show how much this disturbed him. His face morphed into an evil look as he watched Leo walk away.

"Aemond-" Your voice caught in your throat when his glare moved to you.

"What do you think you were doing? Do you want to be seen? Do you want people to call you a whore? Kissing lords in the open? kissing lords who are not your husband?" He threw one question after the other taking a step closer to you with each question. Fear pumped in your blood stepping back and away from him unknowingly he lured you behind a huge bush away from sight of the main road of the gardens.

"We are to be betrothed-" Your tried defended yourself. Aemond chuckled darkly as if he heard the funniest joke in centuries.

"Did you really think I would let that happen? You are mine!" He moved before you could run away grabbing you by your neck. You hands clawed at his wrist trying to push him away but he was too far gone.

"Aemond, let me go" You begged. His eyes softened at the sight of tears build up in your eyes. His hold grew weaker but still held you firmly against his body.

"You are mine! Do you understand? You were always meant to be mine" His voice grew quieter with each word he spoke. Your heart broke when the realisation dawned on you, Aemond will never leave you alone and you loved it, Tyrell would have never fought for you like Aemond would.

"We were born together and we are meant to die together whether now and here or in a decade or two" Aemond whispered leaning down to speak against your ear. His lips wrapped around you earlobe sucking on it before moving to place open mouth kisses to the column of your throat hand now sliding down to the curve of your waist.

"Aemond" You breathed feeling yourself loosing control of your body with each kiss, with each caress , you have never felt anything like this before, Aemond has never touched you like that before.

"Dōna idaña" Sweet twin. He whispered licking up your chin pausing only a breath away from your lips.

"Kiss me" You begged. His free arm wrapped around your waist pulling you in closer to his body. He obeyed like the slave he was, he was your slave who controlled you, your slave who filled your head with himself.

His lips were soft and sweet tasting of honey tarts, your favourites. He hands ran up and down your back, your sides and into your hair. He felt adventures letting one of his hands slide down to grope at your bottom making you moan into his mouth. He slipped his tongue into your mouth feeling every inch he could reach.

"My baby sister, I am the only one who could love you as much as you deserve" He pulled back. You felt hazy and like you were under a spell Aemond smirked using this opportunity to bunch up your dress feeling up your thigh. He hooked his hand under your knee pulling it up to rest around his waist.

"Big brother will show you how much he loves" He leaned down to whisper in your ear. His fingers danced up your thigh in rhythm with his lips sucking his marks all over your neck and down to your bosom.

"rōva lēkia" Big brother. You whimpered feeling him so close to where you needed him. Aemond felt himself growing hard at the sound of your moans. He was only a couple of minutes your elder but has always held that over your head and would grow angry when you would call Aegon 'Older brother or big brother' those were his nicknames, his titles.

"rōva lēkia will take care of you sweet girl" He promised sucking practically hard at a spot that could not be hidden by any dress, just between your chin and neck. You moaned a little too loud but neither of you cared.

He let his finger run over your small cloth feeling it wet under his finger. He smirked pulling away a little from you much to your confusion. He kneeled down holding your leg up to rest on his shoulder instead. Your big brother did not mind kneeling down in front of you, his queen.

"Aemond-" Your words caught in your throat at the sound of ripping, he ripped the layers keeping him from your most private parts. He did not hesitate wrapping his lips around your swollen numb.

"Aemond" This time it was a moan coming out of your lips. He blew lightly on your hole making you shiver. He raised one of his hands up your leg and slowly over to your pussy.

"Please" You begged feeling him kitten lick your numb. Aemond was feeling generous despite you irking his jealousy. He ran his finger back and forth over your hole before pushing it in slowly, he did not want to hurt you.

"Ahh, so good" You moaned grinding down at his hand. Aemond's head snapped up to look at you in shock.

"Have you done this before?" He questioned. You moaned feeling him move his finger inside of you still.

"Yes!" You cried feeling your knees weaken beneath you. Aemond stood with his free arm around your waist to steady you because your leg was still over his shoulder leaving your lower part completely exposed with his finger inside of you joined by a second one picking up pace.

"With who?" He accused angrily. Now he no longer cared for your pain, he wanted revenge.

"Alone, myself" You replied grinding down on his finger. Aemond smirked leaning his forehead on yours. He pulled his hand away from your hole to undo his trousers, he could no longer waist.

"Thinking of who?" He asked. Your face turned a dark shade of red. Aemond shoved himself inside of you in one go claiming yours lips to silence your cries of pain.

"Shhh, keep it down" He hissed. Teeth grinding as he tried hard not to move. Eyes glittering with joy at the sight of his cock coming out bloodied with your maidenhead before shoving it back in and staying in place.

"Who were thinking of while pleasuring yourself, sister?" Aemond asked. You looked down refusing to look at him and instead watched where you two were connected. Aemond grew frustrated and moved to raise your other leg around his waist and lowered your leg over his shoulder to also wrap around his waist letting your dress come down to cover the sinful act you two were doing.

"Who is it?!" He demanded loudly. You cried when he pulled out only to slam back in harshly.

"You! Aemond" You admitted. Aemond lowered himself down on his knees letting you lay on your back. Hands on your bottom holding your lower half higher on the same level as his.

"Is that so, baby sister?" He teased rolling his hips gently. You nodded your head bitting your lower lip feeling too scared and ashamed to ask him to go faster.

"Only big brother makes me peak" You admitted shyly. Aemond chuckled darkly picking up the pace of his hips.

"That's right, only big brother can make you peak" He hoped someone would catch you like this so he could marry you on the spot. He felt a sweat break down his back at the feeling of your tight velvety walls squeezing him so tightly.

"So so good for big brother" He was unable but to moan. He had dreamed of this moment for so many years. Your moans grew louder the more his hips picked up the pace until he was slamming into you. You'd grow to regret this when the grass burn would hit you once the adrenaline was gone. Your hips ached from the position but you were so close you did not care.

"More" You begged throwing your head back feeling you had died and gone to heaven. Aemond growled from deep within his chest hips relentlessly slamming into yours. He needed to seed you, he needed to make you swell with a pure dragon child, he needed to show everyone who you belonged to.

"Cum for me, baby sister" he ordered. He leaned down to hold your chin in between his fingers making sure you looked him in the eyes. The eye contact was your demise making you squirt around his pulsating cock. You cried so loud you were sure your mother heard from her precious sept.

"That's it" Aemond moaned eyes not leaving yours for a second as his seed flooded inside of you. his hips still not daring to move a single inch in or out.

"Get me pregnant" You begged ankled locking behind him making him rock in and out of you although he was softening you moaned at the feeling of him being inside.

"Are you getting off on my cum?" Aemond teased rocking his hips still He bit his lip to hide how effected he was, cock crying from the friction still not over cumming so much, he has not composed himself just yet but for you he would endure the hottest fires of hell.

"Yess, I love your cum, seed me" You moaned clawing at his leather tunic. Aemond whimpered leaning his head down into your neck. His cock was starting to pain him but he kept moving, for you, his queen.

"I'm cumming" You cried tightening your hold him. He whimpered just beside your ear throwing you off the edge, Aemond made a mental not that you loved hearing him, loved hearing how much you effected him.

"Cum, my love" He bit your ear whimpers still leaving his lips. Your walls clamped down on him as you came.

"Sweet sister" He praised pulling out unable to hold on anymore. His softening cock pulsated still found the strength to spurt out some white cum on your hole from the outside, just barely.

"How was that, my love?" Aemond asked teasingly turning to look at your fucked out face. Your eyes hardened as you looked up at him much to his confusion.

"I hope your Alys does not mine me loaning her cock" You pushed him back making him land on his back beside you.

"What?" Aemond was more than shocked by your words. You knew of Alys? How? Aegon!

"Your darling Alys, wasn't that her name? The witch!" You moved away from him to collect the shreds of what used to be your small cloth and linen.

"She is nothing, not compared to you" He composed himself enough to tuck himself back inside his trousers.

"Is that so? Whose cunt did you like more? Mine, the virgin, or her the whore?" You turned to glare at him. Aemond may have loved you first and followed you like a lost puppy but you loved him more, harder.

"Yours of course, she is nothing, I only used her" He pushed himself on his feet feeling still numb from the two orgasms that your cunt pulled out of him. Oh hoe delicious they were.

"Used her?" You tilted your head to the side sarcastically accuse him without saying the words, he was a liar to you.

"Yes! She showed me you" He moved to grab your shoulders before you could move away from him with a scowl on your face.

"Showed me to you?" You asked frowning your eyebrows.

"Yes! in the flames, I saw you everyday as you bathed, ate, slept and prayed for me" He whispered smiling down at you. He looked like a fool in love.

"You watched me while your cock was deep in her hole" You accused raising your hand to slap him. He recovered quickly holding your chin in his hand.

"As payment to see you but I came only to the thought of you, I grew hard only for you and if you ask me I will kill her" He leaned his forehead on yours. You raised your own hand to wrap around his hair pulling his head back to look you straight in your glaring eyes.

"Kill her" You demanded with no hesitation or mercy. Aemond felt his cock stir in his trousers as your jealousy shinned through. His dreams were coming true, you were giving into him. You were just as twisted and corrupted as he was.

[soulessjourney]

Stranger In The Shadows

Paring: Azriel x Reader (Rhysand's sister)

Word count: 1.9k

Summary: It's been almost two years since Y/N disappeared without a trace during one of her missions. Now, she suddenly reappears just outside of Velaris with no memory and a strange darkness enveloping her mind. What secrets does she now hold after her mysterious disappearance? What lies within that abyss of darkness that consumes her?

Warnings: mentions of violence, abuse, blood, injuries

Authors note:

Please bear with me as this is my first time using this website. I'm looking forward to sharing my thoughts that often keep me awake until the wee hours of the night. I thought a great way to kick off my time here is to start a series, so you can all get a glimpse of what's happening in my sleep-deprived mind.

Two years have passed. Today marks the second anniversary of your disappearance. Rhysand had dispatched you on a mission to an outpost camp due to rumors of a disturbance not far from there. However, you hadn't even reached the camp before vanishing into thin air. The Inner Circle had scoured the area for any sign of your presence, but for those two long years, they found nothing.

Arizel paced in his room, his shadows curling around him as a source of comfort. Day after day, he searched for any trace of you, only to return empty-handed each time. The Inner Circle had grown concerned about his obsession with finding you. Who could blame the male? You were his mate, the love of his life, and you had simply vanished. In his eyes, no one seemed to care, leading to countless conflicts, especially between him, Cassian, and Rhysand. Something about tonight felt different. His shadows were more alert than usual, and he had a gut feeling that something was about to happen. It was hard to determine if that feeling was good or bad.

You were the polar opposite of Azriel. You possessed a bright and caring personality, always quick to forgive. You placed others above yourself, doing everything in your power to make everyone feel welcome. Sometimes, he swore you were more related to Feyre than Rhysand, given how openly you wore your heart on your sleeve. Azriel was known for his cold demeanor and blunt comments, and you often teased that he was a perfect match for the shadows, which would lead to him moping or pouting from across the room. You never failed to bring a smile to his face; just your presence alone would make him smile like a fool.

The two of you discovered that you were mates while Rhysand was trapped under the mountain. Azriel had spent the night in your room after hearing your cries for your brother. He felt the bond snap into place the moment he heard you cling to him for dear life, begging him to stay with you. You were terrified of losing Azriel, just as you had lost Rhysand, and you felt as if you would die if Azriel went missing. Azriel subsequently confronted you about the mating bond, which you confirmed, as you had known about it before that night. Since then, the two of you have been inseparable, doing everything in your power to bring your brother back.

The day you disappeared had been complete and utter hell for Azriel. He had felt nothing through the bond, no disturbance, nothing. It was only after a few days that he realized something was wrong because no one had heard a single thing from you. That golden thread connecting the two of you had slackened, and his head felt so empty. Rhysand had tried to excuse it as you putting up walls to focus on the mission, but even Rhys knew that wasn't something you did on missions like these. You always kept your mind open to communication or hearing anything from Rhysand or Azriel. Azriel knew Rhys didn't want to admit how terrified he was of losing you, nor did he want to believe that you could simply disappear without anyone knowing. Constant fights between Azriel and Rhysand ensued, often with Cassian stepping in between them to prevent them from harming each other.

Your disappearance tore the Inner Circle apart. The cries of Mor and Feyre broke his heart when Amren told them that it was time to accept the possibility that you had died. As cold and neutral as Amren was, Azriel knew she was hurting. The bond you shared with Amren was honestly amusing. She saw you as nothing more than a little sister, way too invested in her work, and doting on her activities. Mor, on the other hand, was someone you were inseparable from. Mor knew everything about you, even things that he didn't know, and things he believed should have remained between you and Mor. Azriel saw how broken Mor was upon hearing the news of your disappearance, which only added to the pain for him and his friends.

Azriel stopped pacing the room when he felt a disturbance in the townhouse, something foreign had filled the location. Standing in the darkness of the room, he waited for any sounds of unknown footsteps, but nothing came. Azriel refused to go back to the home you two shared since the last time he was there; he almost burned the place to the ground after his last fight with Rhysand. Feyre had opened their home to him to keep a close eye on Azriel and Rhysand to prevent them from trying to kill each other whenever you were brought up in conversations.

A soft knock landed on the door, catching his attention. Moving towards the door, he opened it and looked down at a wide-eyed Feyre. Stepping aside, she entered his room and glanced around, as if checking to make sure nothing was destroyed again. "Azriel, we need to talk," she said quietly, her words almost too hushed to hear. As she turned back toward him, she motioned for him to sit in the corner chair.

Complying, Azriel sat down, ready for another discussion about his disappearance earlier. "If it's about my disappearance today, you all know the reasoning, and I don't think a lecture is needed," he grumbled, keeping his eyes away from Feyre. The lack of response prompted him to snap his eyes back to her. There was something off about her, something in her eyes that looked as if she was holding back tears or the urge to scream and break something.

Wiping her hands on her gown, she let out a shaky breath and looked at the broken male before her. "Rhysand wanted to talk to you, but after the incident last night, I thought it would be best if I talked to you," she said, her voice nervously quiet. "We received word about an unknown figure seen just east of Velaris. Rhysand and Cassian decided to investigate to give you the time you needed. They found a body there."

Azriel held his breath as she spoke. There had to be a reason they were telling him this. Could it be someone who knew your whereabouts? Someone who had seen you? After noticing the way he clung to her words, Feyre felt tears welling up in her eyes. "We found her, Azriel. We found Y/N," she sobbed, letting tears roll down her cheeks. They had found you. You were back. You had come home.

Standing quickly, the chair slammed back against the wall before Feyre stopped him. "Azriel, I can take you to her, but I have to warn you. She does not look well. She was almost unrecognizable when the boys found her. She is severely injured, and Rhysand mentioned that something felt off about her. Azriel, she may not be the same Y/N we once knew, and you need to prepare yourself for what could happen once she wakes up," she whispered, her gaze fixed on him.

Her words haunted his mind as he followed Feyre to a room tucked away at the far end of the hall, where the Inner Circle stood pacing outside the door. Just as they arrived, the door swung open, revealing Madja with Rhysand standing behind her. Azriel stepped into the room, his eyes widening at the sight before him. There you lay, blankets pulled to your shoulders as you slept. You looked so peaceful, almost lifeless. Azriel watched your chest, holding his breath, waiting for any sign of your breathing. When he saw the rise and fall of your chest, he let out a relieved sigh before Madja began talking.

"It's a miracle that she's alive. The injuries she sustained would have killed an Illyrian warrior. There are clear traces that someone healed her wounds after she had received them. Her wings are broken in a few locations, and she will be lucky if they heal correctly for her to fly again. The girl was kept on the brink of death, and she survived," Madja whispered, amazed that you had survived the obvious torture you had endured.

As Azriel stepped forward, his shadows shot around him, protecting him from getting too close to you. It was strange; his shadows had always loved surrounding you, but this time they seemed almost terrified of being near you. He felt something, something dark that clouded your mind and was nothing but a mass of darkness threatening to break free at any moment. You were a Shadow singer like him, and it was almost funny to him that fate had brought you two together. What worried him most was that there was no sign of your shadows, but he could feel the same power he held coursing through you. What had happened to you during these past few years? Why did you feel so foreign? Why were his shadows so terrified of you?

Azriel felt something inside of him break at the sight of you and your mangled wings. He knew how much you loved flying, and it would be devastating if you were unable to do so. Flying had always been therapeutic for you, a way to escape and feel the wind in your hair, to be free from responsibilities. He cherished the nights when the two of you would just soar, sharing laughter as you gazed upon the breathtaking view of the city. It was a special bond they shared, one that never failed to bring a smile to your face. Rhysand placed a comforting hand on Azriel's shoulder as he stood closer to his brother. "It'll be okay, brother. She's home now. You're by her side, and she's going to be well cared for," he said, letting his gaze rest on you.

Rhysand could only hope his words would provide some comfort to Azriel. He, too, worried that his sister might not be the same person she once was. He feared that the radiant smile she wore might no longer light up the rooms as it used to. He was terrified that you would be a mere shell of your former self, or that you would no longer know how to function. Something in the corner of his eye caught his attention as he saw you stir slightly before your eyes snapped open, and a loud scream tore through the room.

Azriel and Rhysand stepped back, shielding Madja with their bodies. Something about you appeared almost animalistic and foreign. Your eyes held no light in them, only a burning rage as darkness enveloped your body. "Y/N?" Azriel called out. Something in the room came to a halt, as if time itself had frozen. The room fell silent, and the two boys were too scared to breathe, their eyes wide with fear. Your head snapped towards them.

Something flickered in your eyes, perhaps recognition? They softened, as if you were begging for help. But in an instant, the look vanished. Instead, anger and fear filled your eyes as you pushed yourself to the edge of the bed, distancing yourself from them. Your breathing quickened as Azriel attempted another step towards you. With a snarl, you made him stop, and shadows clung to your body, as if protecting you from them. "Who are you?" you spat, keeping your eyes fixed on both of them.

Did you truly not remember who they were? They exchanged glances and then looked back at you, their faces creased with concern. In your eyes, they were strangers, and strangers you were prepared to defend yourself against.

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed the first part of this series, I can't wait to begin this journey with all of you!

[yangbbokari]

Back To Me

Pairing: Kim!Seungmin x F!Reader

Genre/AU/Tropes: Angst, non-idol!au, lovers to exes

Warnings: breakup, language, regrets(if that counts idk), implied cheating, daddy issues

WC: 2.5k

Summary: Things with Seungmin just didn’t seem to ever look up and when you confront him about it, he lashes out

A.N: !NOT PROOF READ!Feedback is greatly appreciated*★,°*:.☆(￣▽￣)/$:*.°★* 。also, I’ve been obsessed with “Back To Me” by The Rose since it came out and this ff idea has been weighing heavily on my mind. I am not implying that said idol(s) behave anywhere near what is mentioned in this ff. Inspo from 

Song rec: ‘Back To Me’ by The Rose

You can still remember those sweet moments with Seungmin. You ran along the seashore as he snapped pictures with his camera you gifted him on his birthday. He took you on a short trip to the park and took pictures of you with your hair blowing in the wind. The both of you laid beside each other, getting lost in the other’s eyes.

But you can’t remember when it all started. What caused that sudden change in your relationship? Was it you? Was it him? You would never know…

You didn’t sense it. It all kind of just… happened. Slowly, Seungmin started to grow distant from you. You wish you knew why. I mean, you could’ve just asked him what’s wrong right? Well, the answer is no. How do you ask someone who’s never home and doesn’t reply to your texts? On days he would actually come home, he wouldn’t talk to you. When he did, all he would do was lash out at you for things that weren’t even your fault.

You tried to support him, you really did. You always kept your calm and told yourself it was just because of his stress stemming from work. But it wasn’t long before it broke you down. Nipping at even your smallest insecurities. So on one of the days when he came home, you just said it all to him.

As soon as you heard the door open, so did your mouth. “Come eat dinner. It’s gonna get co- I’m not hungry”, he cut you off. You got up from your seat at the table and forced him to sit down. He sighed heavily. “What do you want, Y/n. You're driving me crazy. I have enough shit from work and now you're being so demanding.” You scoff. You don’t know where it came from but a fire set ablaze in your eyes and all you felt was irritation.

I can make you mad, I can make you scream

“I’m the one driving you crazy!? I’ve just been looking after you and trying to help you through this stress. But suddenly I’m the problem? You know what? I’m tired of this. You can’t just blame me for shit I didn’t even know of. I’m trying to be a good girlfriend and for what? For you just to come home and berate me when you feel like it?” You were breathing heavily by now and the anger consumed you. “Well, you’re not the one working are you? You’re not the one earning money. You’re not the one putting food on the table. You’re not th- But I’m the one trying to make this relationship survive!!!”, you cut him off because you couldn't bear to hear those words come from his mouth. He knew how much they hurt you. 

Your dad said the exact same words before leaving you on your own with your sick and dying mother. When your mother died, it left you in shambles. You were barely 12 then and so your aunt adopted you. And she treated you like her own. She was the only family you had left until you met Seungmin. But now it feels like she was and still is the only family you have left.

Seungmin huffed before taking a bite of food. But, he immediately spit back out along with his venomous words. “What the fuck is this!? It’s salty as hell! And you wonder why I’m not eating this shit.” Before you could even process his words, you heard the front door shut. You were all alone now. Again.

I can make you cry

After taking a shower you had no strength to do anything else. It wasn’t exactly a physical problem. You were just mentally and emotionally exhausted. You laid down in bed and curled yourself in a tight ball, with the blankets covering you. You felt vulnerable and weak. Like you couldn’t do anything to save your once perfect relationship with Seungmin. Suddenly your face began to feel wet. You were crying. But now, you were beyond the point of just crying. You were sobbing uncontrollably. 

Did he fall out of love with you? Or was he just playing you all along? Did he find someone already and he was waiting for a perfect chance to break up? Why did he change? Was it because of you? Or was this his true self and you were too blinded by love to realize it? What happened to that sweet smile that was always hidden behind the camera? What happened to his velvety laughs that would echo through the night? What went wrong..?

You ended up crying yourself to sleep but when you woke up, you found that you had a cold. It must’ve been from the crying last night. You felt your head pounding from all sides. You quickly went to the kitchen and took some painkillers. If Seungmin was here right now, he would be the one taking care of you. Does he even want to be here?

“No. Stop thinking about him, Y/n. He’s the reason you’re like this.”, you thought out loud. You hated the thought of even contacting him in the state you were in, but you needed someone there while you were sick.

Calling all day but I never pick up, instead of pulling my weight always pushin’ my luck

So you called him.

No answer.

Called him again…

No answer.

The cycle went on a couple more times before you sent a voice message. 

“Hey, Baby. I’m sorry for what happened last night. I didn’t mean to yell at you like that and I understand that you’re also busy and stressed. But can you please come home? I just really need you here right now.”

It has now been several days and your fever isn't getting any better. You spend most of your time in bed but force yourself to take medicine and find something to eat. Left with no choice, you called your friend.

Yuna came over in no time, making sure that you weren’t hurt. But she could clearly see how much you were burning up and the immediate help you needed. She nursed you over the weekend until you were okay. When she asked about Seungmin and found out what happened, she tried her best to convince you to leave him. She always knew that he would do no good for you. But you wouldn’t listen. You refused to. It was only a fight between the two of you. He'd come back to you. Right?

You gave me all that I could take, yeah I take it all for granted. Head up in the clouds, yeah I'll never understand it

Seungmin didn't even return until a full three months later. When he arrived, he wouldn't even look at you. Even though he laid beside you to sleep at night, there was nothing but a wall between you two. It was suffocating you. But it clearly wasn't having the same effect on Seungmin. He would giggle in the middle of the night at some tiktoks he was watching, not minding that he'd wake you up.

It was all so frustrating but you just couldn't find it in you to leave him. Well... that's what you thought at first.

Love no longer remained and if there was any, it was fully one-sided. You were sick of this. The constant mental torture was doing you no good and it slowly killed you. It didn't feel as if you were even a couple. You felt like a caretaker. That's not what you bargained for when you started this relationship.

You tried everything in the books to get him to open up to you. Only to learn, that he was just getting tired of you. You no longer interested him. Or so he said,

"Meh. I've just been bored and trying to find a better entertainment source."

You were so fed up with his, if not irritated, nonchalant attitude. When would he realize that he was hurting you. This internal rage was constantly being built up and you just couldn't handle it anymore.

So you opted for the only choice left. To leave him.

I can make you leave. I can make you hate me for everything.

You packed your clothes and belongings into every box and suitcase you could afford and sent it off to your aunt's. You had already told her of the plan and she agreed. Now all that was left was for him to return home. Time ticked by and the anticipation was killing you. Your knee bounced furiously. You were chewing on your thumb nail until you heard the click of the front door. An exhausted Seungmin stepped through.

"Hey, Seungie. Can we talk?"

He groaned as he walked past you. "Let's talk tomorrow. I'm too tired."

"No. We need to talk like now. It's really important. Please?"

Seungmin rolled his eyes before walking back over to you. "What's so important that you're disturbing my rest?"

You nervously fiddled with your hands. It was more nerve-wracking than you thought. You mustered up the last of your courage you had left and looked him in the eye.

"Let's break up."

"What?"

"Let's go our own seperate ways and break up."

"Okay." He waved you off as he headed to the bedroom to sleep.

Shocked wasn't exactly how you'd describe yourself. To be honest, you kind of expected this. They way he brushed things off so easily wasn't new to you. So you didn't even cry. You just grabbed what you had left and made your way to your aunt's house.

As soon as she embraced you, that's when you let your tears fall. It hurt all too much. Everything that Seungmin had been doing to you for the past two years were spilled out in the hour long conversation shared between you and your aunt. Your hatred only continued to grow for Seungmin and soon, all that was left was hatred for him.

Seungmin didn't even notice that you never came to bed. In fact, everything you previously said flew over his head from his exhaustion. It wasn't until he had awoken that he realized you were nowhere in sight. At first he assumed that you may have went to cook breakfast or collect grocceries. But then he remembered what happened last night. He covered his mouth and his eyes began to water.

He began remembering the horrible things he's been saying to you. He didn't mean any of it. Most of the time it wasn't even directed towards you. It was just pure exhaustion. He only tried to come off as happy so he wouldn't upset you. But that only seemed to make it worse.

What he chose to do though, was give you time. He knew he wasn't the exact person you wanted to talk to at the moment. He shook his head at himself. You'd be back in a week hopefully. That's what he thought up until he felt like the house was a little too empty. SO he checked every nook and cranny. None of your belongings remained. No toothbrush, no clothes, no books, no devices, no personal items. Not even your scent lingered.

God, what had he done?

Calling all day, trynna make things right

Seungmin quickly grabbed his phone and called you. His fingers ran through his hair as the call never made it through time and time again. Now he was extremely worried. What if something happened to you?

So he called your closest friend, Yuna. She picked up rather quickly.

"The hell do you want, assface?" She said almost immediately.

Seungmin swallowed hard before asking her, "Do you know where y/n is? I haven't been able to reach her. Do you know if she's okay?"

"Shouldn't you be able to know the whereabouts of your own girlfriend?"

"Look I really don't know and I'm worried. Something went on last night and she's not home. Now my calls aren't getting through and I don't know what to think."

"Well to me, it looks like she finally took my advice. Have a horrible day, bitch." And with that, Yuna hung up.

"FUCK!!" Seungmin cursed loudly as he flung his phone across the room. Had you really left him? Was he that horrible of a person? He chuckled. Who was he kidding? Of course he was that horrible. The amount of pain he must've inflicted on you. His heart clenched.

He began crying as that was all there was to do left.

It's been a couple of months and both of you were trying to move on. Was it easy? No. At least you both tried though. But fate seemed to have other plans.

Just to fuck it all up when I see you tonight. Since you told me hit the road, I've been runnin' on empty, If anything I know it's how to ruin a happy ending

It was a Friday night and Seungmin chose to spend it at a local bar. Guess that bar must've been a little too local. Because there you were, standing just 20 feet away from him. Seungmin could feel his heartbeat accelerate. He so desperately wanted to run and hug you. It felt like hell without you.

You were no longer there to remind him that he was loved. You were no longer there wishing him good nights and good mornings. You were no longer there to cook him his everyday meals. You were no longer there to give him a goodbye kiss.

But you were here, with another man. Seungmin knew he had no right but he couldn’t help but feel jealous. You told him that you’d always be his so why was it different now? Truth was, he knew the answer. Anger and jealousy blinded him though.

He stomped the whole way over there and yanked you by the wrist. “Who’s this!?” He asked angrily. “What the fuck, Seungmin! Why the hell are you here!?” Seungmin didn’t even hear you as he suddenly flung his fist into the dude’s face.

You grabbed Seungmin by the collar and pulled him towards you, landing a hard smack on his face. “Stop, you fucking asshole.”

He immediately snapped out of it. Seungmin looked at you apologetically but it was already too late. He could see it in your eyes. The disgust, hat and annoyance. How could he do that to you?

”Wait, y/n…”

And he couldn’t even salvage it. So he left. That’s all he could do. He knew you wouldn’t take him back. When he thought about it, he wouldn’t take himself back either. So he began drinking. Drinking all the pain away.

But I can’t make you come back to me

He’d lost you completely and there was nothing he could do. He wanted to scream at you that you couldn’t leave him. But he knew he was in the wrong. On your wedding day he watched as you posted the photos. You and some other dude instead of you and him.

He couldn’t find the strength in him to go to the actual event. He’d lose control if he did. He wanted to tell you,

“I’m sorry.”

But what good would that do. If he truly wanted you to be happy, he’d leave you alone, and that’s what he did. He watched you from afar. He still cried from time to time. He was happy for you. But he had to admit,

“But, I still wan’t you.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ a.n: this has been on pause for 3 months now😭 and idk if ya caught on to the 2nd song at the end but yeah. Anyways, hope ya enjoyed bc this has been a long awaited fix. Sry to anyone who was waiting. Have a great day/night!!! Love y’all!!🫶💕💗

[spacebabesuki]

Love Potion - Hellcheer

Eddie Munson|Chrissy Cunningham|Hellcheer Week 2024| Witch - Day 4 @hellcheerweek

oneshot, word count 2.3k [+16]

Summary: but a devil wouldn’t fit into something so beautiful, right? Actually, it made sense; after all, the Bible said that Lucifer, the father of all bad and tempting things—including little blonde girlfriends who liked to whisper dirty things in your ear—was the most beautiful angel in the sky. So yeah, she was definitely the devil. He didn’t know shit about the Bible, but he understood temptation all too well.

Eddie Munson sat on the edge of his bed, barely breathing, his eyes locked on the girl sleeping under his covers—Chrissy Cunningham. His Chrissy. It still felt surreal, like some kind of twisted fever dream. Her soft blonde hair fanned across his black pillow, her lashes fluttered slightly as she breathed in slow, steady rhythms. She looked like an angel.

He couldn’t stop staring at her, couldn’t tear his eyes away, even though he was exhausted from what they had just done. He rubbed his eyes and glanced at the clock beside his bed. 3 a.m.—the witching hour. He chuckled at the silly thought. There he was, shirtless on the edge of his bed, his skin still burning from where her nails had dug into him when he was on top of her. Sleep? Impossible. Not with Chrissy right there, her presence filling his small room like some kind of spell.

Her perfume lingered in every corner—on his sheets, his pillows—and he loved it. Because when she was gone, he’d bury his face in his pillow just to inhale that sweet scent that drove him so fucking crazy. It twisted his mind until he could barely think. Her smell, her voice, everything about her. He loved her so fucking much it made him lose his grip on reality. It was like everything else disappeared when she was near, like she had cast a spell over him. Maybe that’s exactly what this was.

How else could he explain it? Obsession? Maybe. But he preferred to think of her as one of those powerful witches from his D&D campaigns, the kind that could slay the bravest warriors with just a glance.

He would kill for her. Die for her. Rob a bank for her. Let her kill him. Throw fire at everything for her. He'd do anything for her if she asked with those big blue eyes. He didn’t care if it ended his life or if it sent him to prison. If she asked, he’d do it. No hesitation. It had to be some kind of potion, some kind of witchcraft. He loved her too much for it to be considered normal.

Still that day, he didn’t know how it had happened—how Chrissy Cunningham, the queen of Hawkins High, had endedup in his bed, in his world. She was everything Eddie wasn’t: popular, perfect, untouchable. And yet here she was, asleep in his bed like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like they belonged together. But they didn’t. They couldn’t.

Right?

Eddie ran a hand through his wild, tangled hair, his heart racing faster the longer he stared at her. This had to be some kind of trick. Maybe… maybe she’d slipped something into his drink that night at the middle school talent show. That’s why he’d been obsessed with her for five years. Some potion, a love spell. And then, that day in the woods this year, she must’ve finished her witchcraft, and now he was stuck with her forever.

She could rip his heart out of his chest and he’d probably thank her for it. Fuck, he’d say, “Do it again… oh, I don’t have a heart anymore? I’ll grow another one for you.” He laughed at himself, knowing his late-night thoughts were the worst. But still, the idea of her being a witch made more sense than anything else right now. He always figured that if some ancient powerful witch reincarnated in this world, she’d choose to possess the most perfect, angelic, drop-dead gorgeous hot woman to exist - in that case Chrissy Cunningham.

Her eyes were out of this world. Ever since he’d looked into them for the first time, he hadn’t been able to forget. They were so blue, so impossibly blue, that he got lost every time he stared into them. Surreal, like no other eyes he’d ever seen. It felt like he could swim in them, like she cast a spell over him with every glance, every blink—like some kind of princess or doe-eyed character straight out of a fucking Disney movie.

It was surreal—the way her face lit up when she smiled, how her eyes shone with a brilliance that left him breathless. He had never seen anything more beautiful. It was angelic, transcendental. When she looked at him with that sweet, innocent expression, it was as if time stood still. Her eyebrows arched just right, framing her gaze, giving her that pure, sweet look that made his heart race.

Witchcraft.

In those moments, everything else faded away. The chaos of the world melted into the background, and all that mattered was her. She was a spell he never wanted to break, a dream he was afraid to wake up from. Each time she turned her gaze on him, he felt as if he were floating, caught in a tide of affection and admiration, completely enchanted by her beauty.

Witchcraft.

He leaned in closer, trying to get a better look at her face. She looked so peaceful, so innocent. But what if it was all an act? What if Chrissy was really a witch, and he was the fool who’d fallen under her spell? His head spun with the thought, but at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Even if she had bewitched him, he didn’t want it to stop. He’d never felt like this before—this deep, aching need to be near someone, to protect her, to… worship her.

Or maybe she wasn’t even dreaming. Maybe she was just recharging her witchy powers—the ones she drained from him every time he was inside her, like some kind of mating love potion. He laughed again at his ridiculous thoughts. Honestly, if she used him to feed herself, he wouldn’t care. If she killed him, he’d just say, “Thank you, sweet thing. My sweet girl, my angel, my pretty doll.”

Slowly, he raised a finger and gently brushed a strand of hair away from her flushed face. So beautiful...fuck...fuck...FUCK, she's unreal.

Eddie had always thought witches were just stories—until he met Chrissy. Her smile? Pure magic, casting a spell he couldn’t escape. The way her blonde hair fell over her shoulders, golden like the light of the moon, hypnotized him every time she flipped it. And her eyes, crystal blue, were potions in themselves, drawing him in deeper and making his heart race in ways he didn’t understand. Every glance, every soft laugh, enchanted him more, leaving him feeling like a poor human in the hands of the most powerful creature on the planet.

He loved her so much it burned—a crazy kind of love that drove him closer to the edge of insanity with each passing day.

And he wanted to be forever.

He was certain that when she looked into his eyes, she enchanted him—pure witchcraft. She moved like a spell woven into the air, a grace that left him breathless. Her laughter was a potion that filled the room, wrapping around him like silk. He felt bewitched, caught in a web of shimmering starlight and magic. Every glance was a hex, his heart racing every time their eyes met.

“Chrissy,” he whispered, as if her name were an incantation, capable of summoning the very essence of her beauty. She was an enchantress, effortlessly weaving a tapestry of warmth and light that made the mundane world dissolve. In those moments, surrounded by the hum of life, he was completely hers—lost in the spell she cast, longing to remain enchanted forever.

As he looked at her, he noticed the blue eyeshadow on her eyelids, smudged from the sweat of what they had done before she fell asleep. He smiled again at his foolish thoughts, realizing that every witch in movies and horror magazines seemed to love blue eyeshadow, just like the kind she always wore.

She looked like a fucking angel, but she wasn’t one. Sometimes he liked to think of her as an angel, but an angel wouldn’t make him feel this way—so pure because of her blue eyes, her golden hair like a halo, and her soft voice.

But deep down, he wondered if she was a devil in disguise because of the things she whispered in his ear: “You can cum inside. I take pills, remember? Just put it inside me, baby, please.” See? THE DEVIL. The dirtiest words delivered in the softest, sweetest voice in the world. Fuck, goddammit, girl—she was the fucking devil disguised as an angel.

The way she wrapped her perfect legs—soft as velvet—around his back drove him wild, making his cock, always wet and so fucking hard for her, go even deeper inside her. All the while, he was sweating on top of her, counting the seconds to last longer because being inside her, feeling her perfect body, seeing her perfect boobs bounce beneath him, rubbing against his chest, and hearing her sweet mouth moaning was simply too much for him.

But a devil wouldn’t fit into something so beautiful, right? Actually, it made sense; after all, the Bible said that Lucifer, the father of all bad and tempting things—including little blonde girlfriends who liked to whisper dirty things in your ear—was the most beautiful angel in the sky. So yeah, she was definitely the devil. He didn’t know shit about the Bible, but he understood temptation all too well.

God, he was obsessed with her.

It’s a love potion. A witch's potion, he is sure of it. He remains trapped in this spell of love and wants to be forever. He loves her in every way imaginable, obsessed with her, relishing the moments when he lays her down on the bed, lifts her cheerleader skirt, and stays inside her until his mouth goes numb—licking and kissing beneath the delicate white silk of her panties, savoring every perfect inch of her soft skin—so fucking soft, like a peach. Sometimes, he loses his mind, wanting to bite, lick, and suck until he drowns in her sweetness, feeling so fucking lucky because he can’t believe he holds an angel in his arms.

He adores her, just as weak-minded humans adore religion. He, who had never believed in religion, always thought it was the greatest evil in the world—he, who had always mocked fanatical believers and swore he’d never have a religion—now has a religion. She is his religion. He would starve for her, kill for her, protest for eternity for her, build altars and churches in her name, wage wars for her, erase cultures for her, destroy worlds for her, drop bombs for her.

He would kneel for her, just as he does every night; he kneels to pray, even though he doesn’t know any prayers—only for her. Because when he’s with her, kissing her, he adores her—he prays between her legs. He has never prayed before, never adored anything that would compel him to pray, except for her.

For her, and only for her, he would kneel because she is his religion. He doesn’t even believe in God, but when he’s on his knees for her, between her legs, he prays.

“Hallelujah, hallelujah, I need your love. You’re my religion; you’re how I live. When I’m down on my knees, you’re how I pray.”

And here he is, crazy for her, watching her sleep so peacefully on his bed, wrapped in his blanket, with her blue eyeshadow accentuating her angel beauty. Her naked soft skin glows against the white sheets, and her pretty strawberry-blonde hair cascades down, so long it seems surreal and golden. The white sheet around her only enhances her appearance, making her look like a transcendentally beautiful creature from another world, her soft shoulders exposed, the curve of her breasts visible. It’s a breathtaking sight, and he wants to kneel and pray.

She was like heroin made just for him; her effect on him was like a drug—witchcraft—it wasn't normal. It gave him everything, and if she took his life away, he would die addicted to pure pleasure.

Not a devil, not an angel, but a witch; there’s no way what he feels for her is normal. It’s an obsession, a voodoo-like desire. He doesn’t care; he wouldn’t mind if she killed him. How can someone be so beautiful? He’s more than in love—she holds his heart in her hands. If she wants to practice voodoo, transform him into her doll, drive a stake into his heart, and bathe in his blood, witchcraft, or cast any spell on him, he would let her. He wants to remain under the effect of this love potion forever.

As he gazed at her, lost in the depths of his fervor, he realized he was willingly ensnared in her enchantment. The world outside faded, and all that mattered was the intoxicating magic between them—a spell woven from longing and desire. In that moment, he understood that love could be as dangerous as it was beautiful, a dark dance between devotion and madness. If this was the price of her affection, he would gladly pay it, surrendering himself to her every whim. In her arms, he discovered a love where every heartbeat echoed with the promise of forever—a love potion he never wanted to escape.

His heart was in her hands, and he craved nothing more than to let her do whatever she wanted with it, as she wished, praying that it would last forever—forever in her hands.

He leaned back against the headboard, still watching her, still wide awake.

Maybe he’d never sleep again. Because when you were under a love spell, sleep wasn’t an option.