#When I've been washing and masking for so long

[rogue-durin-16]

HEAD-TO-HEAD (prologue)

Summary: Joe thought she was pretty. Had he just said that, things might have been different for them. Maybe they wouldn't have gone head-to-head at each other for three years like it was a contest.

Pairing: Joe Liebgott x Reader

Genre: angst splattered with fluff

Tags:

Head-to-head: @derersketnoget

Band Of Brothers: @fernando-jpg @chubbypotatoepie @tvserie-s-world @clumsy-wonderland @lordndsaviorwinters

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @comfort-reads

Warnings: implied sexism, language

A/N: am I writing a multipart for this scrappy little shit just because I had a weirdly vivid dream with him? Yes. I need him out of my head NOW🗣️. Enjoy this little prologue <3

Band of Brothers masterlist

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

When I had first signed up to serve in the Airborne, I hadn't expected things to be smooth or easy. Hell, a part of me didn't even expect me to make it through the cut, let alone find the road paved for me to waltz into the army.

At the end of the day, being a woman was hard enough. Being a female paratrooper? Do not get me started.

Easy Company's men had been a short breath of fresh air —a glint of hope—, but nevertheless, it still was difficult enough.

I didn't need additional challenges added to the mix. I genuinely did not need someone like Joe Liebgott to take interest in talking to me.

The fact that I had been avoiding interacting with certain men in the company wasn't coincidental. I didn't trust them. Not entirely.

Of course, my opinions about most of them shifted from wary to positive after they gradually approached me. Some were a nice surprise, like Joe Toye. Some were deep down expected, like Don Malarkey or Shifty Powers.

I wasn't exactly eager to have any sort of interaction with Joe Liebgott, although the feeling apparently was not mutual. At least from the beginning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It hadn’t taken long for me to notice Joe Liebgott. He was hard to miss with his loud comments and cocky stride. In the few days of training, I had already made up my mind—he wasn't someone I wanted to interact with.

That was the reason why I felt a quick wave of irritation when, while I had a chat outside the barracks with Hoobler and Shifty, I caught him casually sauntering over like he owned the place.

This moment was doomed to come.

"Having a chat, fellas?" His grin made it clear he thought he was charming.

With a sigh louder than I intended, I raised to my feet and shook the dust off my uniform. "I think this is my cue to head out."

"Woah, where's the fire, Y/l/n?" Liebgott questioned giving me an up-and-down. "It's Y/l/n, right?"

"Right."

Silence stretched between us while we seized up each other. Maybe he had expected me to say something else. I, myself, expected the same from him.

"Can I help you with anything or...?" I gave in first.

“I figured it was time to see what all the fuss was about." he said, leaning against the barracks' wall with that confident air. "A broad? in a place like this? That's something."

I raised an eyebrow. “Really? Starting with that line?"

"C'mon, it's true. It ain't everyday you see someone who can keep up with the boys." His hands dove into his pockets, chin slightly tilted up. "You must be pretty special."

A wave of disgust washed over my face so obviously that Hoobler had to hold back a laugh. "This is exactly why I didn’t approach you in the first place.”

He blinked, surprise flickering across his face, but he quickly masked it with another grin. "Come on, I'm just tryna be friendly."

"If this is friendly, then I don't wanna see the rest."

His smile faltered, and he shifted his posture ever so slightly. "You got a big mouth, don't you?"

"Makes the two of us." By the taken aback look on his face, he clearly wasn't expecting this to go sideways. "Don't give me that look, I've seen your little act."

"You've been watching me then." He took a quick look at the boys standing nearby as if waiting for a couple of laughs on their part.

"Oh please, spare me." I waved him off, a humorless half smile tugging on the corner of my lips. "I could hear you from a mile away."

He scoffed a bit too loud. "That's rich coming from someone who can be heard from the top of that goddamn mountain." His index finger pointed behind us at Currahee. There it was; that attitude he was so quick to turn to.

"Oh but that's just perfect." I quipped with a fake smile as I resumed my way out. "Means there's no need to get close!"

I would have sworn he used the word 'bitch' behind my back. I wasn't sure, though, but I had no interest in retrace my steps to get into a stupid spat with some I didn't even want to interact with in the first place.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yeah, after our first conversation, one would think we would try to avoid each other.

I guess it just wasn't in Joe's nature to give up without a fight, and it wasn't in mine to keep quiet and suck it up.

[rainbowsky]

These kinds of things involve clownery of the highest order, but they aren't without precedent. The whole SDOC3 thing is practically unwashable in my eyes, for example, and it's one of those stories that if you tell it without any of the accompanying evidence people will think you've lost all contact with reality.

The first thing I thought when I saw that hug in the video, was, "Surely that's Yibo!" Knowing GG and DD, I think there's no world in which either of them would want to pass up a chance like that to clown the entire world while giving DD a cameo in GG's video. I will be shocked if we find out An Huibo is a real person, and this gets washed. It's just so 'something they'd do'.

I don't buy the superstition thing. It's true GG is superstitious, but not to the degree where I could see him missing this opportunity. And besides, surely any 'betrayal' superstition is outweighed by the fact that GG gets to hug his husband right in front of everyone's salad!

There are also so many possible interpretations for that story, and GG and DD are both actors. I just don't buy this explanation at all.

Not saying that it's definitely Yibo, but I'm eating this candy. I've seen a lot of CPN about the songs and other materials for this album and none of it has grabbed me, but when I watched the video for "Wild" I definitely thought it might be Yibo in that shot.

The Golden Rooster Awards mystery man is a different story. It's so hard to make out his features. In the first photo I definitely had a "Wow, maybe it could be GG..." moment - it really does look like him - but when I saw the second photo I immediately had doubts. The eyes in that photo seem large and droopy (although that could be distortion because it's a screenshot caught while the camera is moving), where GG's are more sleek and upturned. I'd really have to see the actual footage to make any kind of informed guess.

I think it's interesting that someone is sitting in the audience wearing casual clothes and a mask. That's a bit 👀 to me, given that no one else is. One of the reasons someone might wear a mask is to conceal their identity. However there are also other people besides GG who might have reasons to hide their identity.

Anyone who's sufficiently curious and feels capable of such a task can feel free to comb through the footage from that night. It's 9 hours long, but I don't imagine if GG made an appearance that he'd be in the seat for most of the night. He'd have popped in for the major awards that "One and Only" had been nominated for. I'm thinking 7:45 onward until the end of the ceremony.

I skimmed through a bit (you can use the arrow keys to move forward and backward), but I didn't see any camera angles that would match the photo.

It really could be anyone - even DD's makeup artist (I don't see why someone who'd been with him for as long as he has wouldn't want to see DD win such a prestigious award). We will probably never know for sure, but we could definitely get a better idea based on the footage and what point of the night it occurred.

If those screencaps were taken at any point prior to 7:45 in the footage, and that person didn't appear anytime after, I'd be ready to totally wash it. I don't see GG sticking around the main area for the entire tedious ceremony.

If GG has downtime I could see him showing up for the awards to be with DD and support him, and also to be there when (because it's only a matter of time before he does) he wins the big award. I could see him hanging out backstage and creeping in just before DD's award. I don't think that's completely outside the realm of possibility, but based on these photos alone I don't think it's him. I'd need to see more than this to convince me.

Anyway, clowning can be fun. 😅

BURN AFTER READING. 🍭🍬

i have never made a post with this title before, but i have shared some cpn/speculation that deserve to be burned after reading. lol. this term is often used by cpfs for a candy or info related to the boys that may be “dangerous” — so you have to get rid of it after reading. but for my version of it, let’s describe it as something that is a level up from galaxy brain cpn. it’s the kind of cpn you will think twice or thrice before making up your mind about. 💫

we have (2) topics here and just a disclaimer that i am not confirming anything here. this content is for cpf only. don’t take it seriously!

(1) Who is An Huibo 安慧博?

fans noticed that there was a “stand in” credited for the we and life of us music videos and that is this person. think of it as a body double. it makes sense cause aside from that scene in WE, there are times that xz’s figure is against a backdrop so maybe they needed someone to do that. the clowning began when people were thinking about, what if the other xz in WE mv is actually WYB ⬇️⬇️⬇️

i can think of a couple of different reasons why this could be false but the strongest explanation for me is that xz will not allow wyb to so something like this. he is very superstitious. even if this is just acting, he will not allow them to act out a scene of betrayal. that for me is enough to shut this all down. but on the flipside, maybe wyb wanted him (xz) to play his first villain role opposite him in this music video.

now we have the reasons why fans think this is something worth looking at:

1. XZ and this An Huibo are the only 2 credited actors for both MVs. so it seems kinda special.

2. The director of this is LIN, the same one who directed WYB’s redmi advertisement. There are some CPNs both were made at the same studio. Which makes sense cause LIN has his own shooting studio. There is another separate CPN about this but the gist is we think this director is familiar with both of them. So XZ may be comfortable enough to bring WYB along and even include him in the video.

3. It may not be WYB himself, but he used that name to troll us. It’s so close, Huibo. Yibo.

4. I saw this explanation as well:

If "Anhuibo" is read according to the French transliteration as An Huibo, it would approximately read:

[ã чi bɔ]

·ã: similar to "ang";

·qi: similar to "wei" in Chinese, but lighter and soft;

·bo: similar to "wave", slightly shorter.

5. As a CPF, it’s so easy for our alarm bells to ring if you read that name. An alias of sorts for Bobo. some are saying he used this kind of jumbled name to combat the bad aura of their scene together. Since he is superstitious, this removes yibo’s name and identity as the stand in who stabbed XZ’s character. if that makes sense.

maybe we will know more when they release the behind the scenes video. that is if they show who this stand in is. let’s add this to the bjyx clowning vault in the meantime.

(2) XZ look-alike in the recent GRA

i was talking to @rainbowsky about this and my initial reaction was, cpn aside, i’m surprised at how people notice these things! which i actually should be used to considering turtle’s attention to detail, but still!

so here is the “evidence”

👀👀👀👀

like all other turtles, i’m someone who has stared at tons of photos of XZ. so i can totally understand why people would look twice at this person. i get i. i was staring at this photo for so long as well. however most of the cpfs comment on this is against this candy and they have valid reasons:

1. Why would he attend and be in the audience? XZ is someone lowkey so if he was there to accompany WYB, he will be backstage. Yes he is brave, but not like this — which seems almost careless.

2. There are names on the chair, so it’s not like anyone can just sit there casually.

3. Even if you believe in the probability, CPFs don’t wanna talk much about it cause it can be anti material. Saying XZ has to hide and can’t show his face in GRA. or why is he even there incognito when he doesn’t even have a project nominated. You all know how it goes, antis can twist the narrative. Plus we don’t want to accidentally expose them if this was true. We should not observe too much and post about it cause it will make it harder for them to do something similar in the future.

4. How did this person go unnoticed? Everyone had to get inside the security and there are cameras everywhere. He should have removed his cap and mask which — it’s impossible for someone to not notice XZ ( or is it? ). another thing is maybe he went to a diff entrance??

5. Some are washing it and saying it’s Yibo’s MUA.

Please take that last point i mentioned and carry it over to the reason why this look alike is sus. People are able to confirm that this is not WYB’s MUA because he was wearing a different cap. Even the hair and daresay the ears are not the same. and why would a MUA even be there? If WYB needs touch ups then they should do it backstage. If for some reason it has to be while the broadcast and recording was not on or was on a break, he should not sit there and act like a guest.

Yibo’s MUA, Wang Yiduo has been with him for years. He has years of experience being around celebrities and attending these events before WYB. So he knows the decorum. He will not sit there and act like a guest just because he feels like it.

I’m curious too, who is this person who can walk in— in an event filled with people that are dressed up and then come in with a mask and casual clothes. To be allowed to sit there. Who is special enough? Probably a celebrity? and that’s why some think it could be XZ. Even the staff and assistants during the event are dressed up which made this person stand out. As for the CPN explanation, it’s nice to think that XZ is so proud of Yibo’s nomination that he has to be there. He will find a way to be in the audience and witness this special moment. 💕

I think this can easily be analyzed more if we have the video but i don’t have time to rewatch the whole GRA and wait for this cut. Cause i wanna know if it’s even there, that’s how much we question things here! 🤣 It’s so sus to me that we only have the screenshots and no video when CPFs are notorious for having concrete evidence. personally, it reminds me of the SDC3 incident but this one is still pretty outrageous considering it is a public event.

take what you want with this information. and as always, when it comes to BJYX: ⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️

sources: one/ two

[softichill]

"Gee I wonder what made this bug start going around" says the teacher who just coughed all over the white board without even bothering to shield it. "Yeah it's weird" says the student that sneezed into their hand and wiped it off on the chair

[writersdrug]

I NEED waitress!reader accidentally letting it slip that she’s got a date after her shift and so when bartender!simon overhears, he suddenly has a list of things she needs to do after work, causing her get to stay late ))): missing her date ))):

ANGST TIME

He's been watching you like a hawk for the past two hours - and rightfully so. You've been rushing through your tasks, rolling more than enough silverware, keeping your tables happy and stocked - you somehow managed to convince Soap to mop front of house for you. He doesn't like it. Why are you trying to get away?

"Got a date tonight." You tell him, skimming through your receipts as you sit at the bar and calculate your tips. You're not off the clock yet - you still have thirty minutes left. But the restaurant's empty, and all your tasks are done. Your makeup is a little nicer today, softer and less "morning after a deftones concert".

Simon's thankful for the mask, or else his frown would be impossible to miss. Is he dumb? Haven't you been flirting with him all week? Was this another one of your games, pretending to act innocent and coy, messing with him, then announcing you're going out with someone else?!

He feels his shoulders tensing as he watches you tap away at your phone's calculator. He shouldn't be so bothered by this - some things just need to be let go. But he can't. He wants to keep you in his back pocket, or in an empty whiskey bottle on his liquor shelf - not the one behind the bar, but the personal collection in his room on the third floor.

"That's nice," he grumbles, slicing through a lime. "Jus' make sure you finish your chores 'fore you head out."

"Already did!" You chirp at him with a smile. "Just need to do my tips, and I'll be done."

"Did ya clean the ice bins?" He asks.

You furrow your brow. "Huh?"

He jerks his head to the whiteboard on the wine fridge - sure enough, your name is scribbled in, right next to "drain and wash/sanitize ice bins + buckets", along with today's date.

You look back at Simon, your expression now crestfallen. Your date is in an hour, and you still have twenty minutes on your shift. "Don't you usually do it?"

Truthfully, he does. He could do it today, in fact. But his brain is acting on thoughts before he has the chance to consider the consequences. "Can't today, luv. Preppin' for a bigger crowd tomorrow."

Your shoulders slump. "How long does it take?"

"Well, you got to turn 'em off - one by one, I can't have two empty ice bins durin' a shift - then ya dump the ice, wait for 'em to warm up, then ya go in there with soap n' a rag, rinse 'em out, then-"

"God, can this please wait until tomorrow? I'll come in early and do it, I promise."

He looks at you sternly, and you suddenly feel ashamed for asking. "Wot, so I can pay you overtime?"

"Simon, please - if you do them, I'll give you half my tips for today."

"Now y' dumpin' your work on me?"

"I've got a date!"

"I've got my own shit too!"

You snap your mouth shut. He's never been this stern with you, but you know it's well deserved. It's your chore, after all. You'd been wrong to assume he would do it himself, despite that being the usual. You quickly hop out of the barstool and make your way behind the bar, unplugging the first icebin.

Simon watches as you scurry around, running to and from the ice bin into the kitchen, filling up bucket after bucket of ice and dumping it into the sink in the back. You pace as the machine warms up, glancing at your phone every few minutes, then touching the inside of the ice maker to check the temperature. After a few minutes, you're scrubbing the machine as fast as you can with a soapy rag and a bucket of sanitizer eater next to you.

Twenty minutes have gone by. You're supposed to be on your way to your date, but you're biting your lip, staring angrily at the ice machine as it cools down again. You need to wait for it to be cold before you refill it with ice, and only then can you start on the other machine.

You make another attempt towards Simon. "If I just do one tonight and do the other in the morning-"

"No." Simon snaps, his eyes angry as he drops a container of sliced fruit onto the bar. "This is part of havin' a job."

You look away from him, tears stinging your eyes now. You're so frustrated you want to snap back at him - but he's right, isn't he? Maybe you could ask him if you could just call Max and let him know you'll be running late - but the thought of asking Simon for anything right now (other than more chores) makes you queasy.

Simon doesn't know where the anger came from, but it's still simmering. He watches as you continue to run back and forth, filling up the old ice bin, unplugging the second one, dumping the ice in the back... he's refilling the bloody Mary mix and restocking the bitters. Simple things. He's got nothing to do after this besides go up to his flat and sit in front of the telly, or maybe chat with Soap before he heads home. Why didn't he just do it? Because you had a date, and that was a problem for him. Why? Now you're upset, and it's that knowledge that makes him finally feel the shame that he'd been swallowing down.

You finish dumping the last bucket of ice into the second machine. It's forty minutes after your shift ended. You still have to get to the restaurant you and Max were meeting at, which is a twenty minute walk. You were supposed to be there ten minutes early - now you're going to be an hour late. Frustration mingles with anxiety and burns in the forefront of your mind. But you can't be mad. You should've done your job.

Simon doesn't say anything when you run to the back, your phone pressed to your ear and tears in your eyes. You barely manage a wave to Soap as you grab your bag and jacket and flounder back into the restaraunt. You don't look at Simon.

"I'm leaving now, I'm so sorry- I had to finish up at work and it too longer than I-" you slowed to a walk, then a stop, standing in the middle of the floor. Simon was frozen, watching your shoulders shake.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize I had-... it's not an excuse, I promise I'm-... listen, we can go for a walk or something, right? Or go get fast food, someplace still open, just you and me, and we can try again another-"

His eyes burn in his skull as he watches you stand there for a few more seconds, staring at your phone as the call disappears from the screen. He wants to say something - but what can he say? He's already fucked you over. And he doesn't feel any better than when he first discovered your little date. He feels worse.

You stuff your phone in your back pocket, unable to hide the single, choked sob that escapes your throat. You shoulder your bag and stomp your way out of the restaurant, door clanging behind you. Your bike is still in the alley out back, and your unfinished tips are still on the bartop. He wouldn't be surprised if you never come back to collect them.

Soap emerges from the kitchen breaking Simon from his thoughts and wiping his hands on a rag. "Real feckin' kind of ye, Ghost. Never seen such a right cunt." He glares at Simon, before slapping the rag on the table and heading back into the kitchen. His shift was over, too.

Simon has three more hours left to deal with himself before the bar closes.

[kurokawaia]

❛ It's your first !! Gotta be soft !! ❜

Iguro Obanai X Fem!Reader

WC; 3.4k+ (somehow)| !MDNI! | TW/CW :: nervous!reader, virgin!reader, lovesick!obanai, virgin!obanai, cherry popping, soft sex, gentle sex, oba is rlly soft and love you sm, piv, smut with plot? set in season 5 but no spoilers, kaburamaru slithers away smw when it gets heated dw

⋆·˚ ༘ *𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: (filled request) I was wondering if you could do reader’s first time with him, and I just head cannon Iguro to be absolutely lovesick with his partner and gentle like how he is with Mitsuri in canon so could you do it with like a nervous!reader x lovesick!Iguro’s first time doing it - ANON

this ended up being over 3k words, dont ask me how

m.list | demon slayer m.list

You had to take a break from training today, so you found yourself watching Obanai beating up the children who trained under him. However, you found yourself nervously fidgeting on the sidelines, watching Obanai as he demonstrated a particularly complex technique through the wood structures.

Your heart pounded in your chest, both from the intensity of the training and the way Obanai's gaze lingered on you whenever he thought no one was watching. Despite his stern exterior and sharp words for others, he had always been different from you—gentle, kind, and unbelievably patient.

He does love you after all.

Obanai's eyes flickered to you again, his concentration momentarily broken. The sight of you, nervously playing with the hem of your haori, made his heart ache with a longing he struggled to contain. He was lovesick for you, utterly devoted, and the thought of you consumed his mind.

As he guided the other Hashira through the rigorous exercises, his thoughts drifted to the times you spent together. The quiet moments when he could hold you close, feeling the warmth of your body against his, and the soft, timid whispers of your voice that soothed his troubled soul. He yearned for more of those moments, but there was a deeper, more primal desire that had begun to take root.

His mind wandered to the idea of having you in a more intimate way, a way you had not yet explored together. The thought sent a shiver down his spine, and he had to force himself to focus back on the training.

He wanted you, in every sense of the word, but he was determined to be patient, knowing your timid nature. He didn't want to rush you or make you feel uncomfortable.

The day dragged on, and the training ended. Obanai immediately sought you out, his expression softening the moment he saw you waiting for him.

"How was your day?" he asked, his voice gentle as he approached you.

"It was alright," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "Watching you was... impressive, as always."

He smiled beneath his mask, he only smiled for you. "Thank you. Let's go somewhere quiet. I want to spend some time with you."

You nodded, your heart racing as he led you away from the training grounds of his estate to the room the two of you shared. Well, you weren't currently living with him yet, but you hoped to in the future.

It was peaceful as the two of you sat outside on the edge of the path that trailed around the house, your legs dangling off of the edge, accompanied by the soft rustle of trees.

Obanai sat down, pulling you gently to sit closer beside him. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. "I've missed you," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I missed you too," you replied, leaning into his embrace. The warmth of his body against yours was comforting, and you felt a sense of peace wash over you.

He tilted your chin up, his mismatched eyes locking onto yours. "I think about you all the time," he confessed, his voice aching with longing. "I want you, in every way possible. But I don't want to rush you. I want you to be comfortable, to feel safe with me."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you could see the sincerity in his eyes. "I... I feel safe with you, Obanai," you whispered, your cheeks flushing. "I'm just... nervous."

He smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "That's okay. We can take things slow. I just want you to know how much I care about you, how much I love you."

You looked up at him, your eyes shining. "I love you too, Obanai. I'm just not used to feeling this way, but I want to be with you."

He pulled you closer, unravelling the bandages around his mouth, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. "We'll take it one step at a time," he murmured against your lips. "As long as we're together, that's all that matters."

But the kiss wasn't tender for too long. Obanai had slipped his tongue into your mouth and a gasp fell out of your lips. You dripped his haori in surprise, eyes momentarily widening before closing them in contentment.

Obanai's tongue was entangling with your own and you almost didn't know what to do. It obviously wasn't the first time that the two of you had made out but it still made you nervous under his touch. He was towering over you, his hand entangled in your hair as he tilted your face up and an arm wrapped tightly around your waist.

You felt as if you were going to faint when he was getting into it, more than usual, your heart was beating so fast you thought you were going to pass out. You didn't even know what to do, Obanai was dominating you in such a loving way it made your tummy swell with butterflies and an unfamiliar throbbing fall to your clit.

You were beginning to not be able to intake any breaths and you tense underneath Obanai's touch. You truly were getting more and more flustered by the minute. Leaning into Obanai's hold, you tapped quickly on his shoulder and he pulled away from the kiss alarmed, not even realising your flustered and breathless state causing his eyes to widen in worry.

He leaned back slightly to see if you were okay, mentally cursing himself for being too intense with you. Your forehead was leaning on his shoulder while your hands trembled, clenching his black and white striped haori.

"I'm so sorry," Obanai hastily uttered and in reply, you nodded your head against his shoulder.

"It's okay," you reassured quietly.

What Obanai didn't see was how red your cheeks were and how hot your body felt on the inside, this sensation was absolutely overwhelming and you didn't know what to do.

"Are you-"

You lifted your head up after a few seconds, hoping that you had calmed yourself down but it didn't really work.

"I am!" you replied, interrupting him.

Obanai's eyes widened when he saw the state of you. Your cheeks were flushed in a deep shade of a pinkish red and your hands were trembling on his shoulders. What he felt just then, what he is realising is that he can feel how hot your body is heating up.

You didn't know what this need was so you hesitantly asked Obanai, "could I... kiss you again?" you asked with a quiet voice, looking down, not wanting to meet his gaze in fear he said no.

Oh, how silly you were, you could kiss Obanai whenever you wanted, with or without asking and he would just fall even more in love with you.

Obanai's eyes softened, and he leaned down, brushing his lips against mine. "You don't need to ask," he whispered against your mouth, his voice filled with warmth and longing.

You hesitantly wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as our lips met once more. This time, the kiss was deeper, more intense. You could feel the electricity between us, a magnetic pull that made it impossible to resist each other.

your hands explored the contours of his back, feeling the strength and warmth of his muscles. Obanai's hands moved with a gentle but insistent touch, tracing the lines of your body, and making you shiver with anticipation.

As our bodies pressed closer, you could feel Obanai's heartbeat against mine, a steady rhythm that matched the intensity of our emotions. You wanted to memorize every sensation, every touch, knowing that this moment was a testament to the depth of our relationship.

Obanai's lips left mine, trailing a path of kisses down your neck, making you gasp with pleasure. His hands moved with a tender urgency, exploring the curves of your body with a reverence that made you feel cherished and loved.

You pulled him back up to you, our eyes locking as we paused for a breath. "I love you," You whispered, your voice filled with sincerity.

"I love you too," he replied. "{Y/n}," he asked breathless

Obanai's hand gently cupped your cheek, lifting your chin until your eyes met. His touch was reassuring, his eyes filled with warmth and understanding. "Yes?" You asked softly, swallowing a lump in your throat.

"I... I want to take things further," he said, your voice barely above a whisper, the vulnerability of your words hanging in the air.

Your body froze, your mind pausing whatever it was thinking about. "You... can," you whisper, gazing into his eyes, realising that what he wanted to engage with you was sex.

After walking over to the futon, Obanai laid you down carefully, as if you would break and you were a nervous wreck but Obanai soothed that. Obanai was straddling your lower abdomen and you could feel the large bulge in his hakama pants as he leaned down to kiss you.

Your tongues danced with each other before he pressed a kiss to the side of your lips and then trailed down slowly, the kisses reassuring you that you would be okay. He trailed down your collarbone and chest, making sure to leave soft, faint red marks in its wake. Throughout the entire procedure, you let out panting breaths and strengthened your grip on his body.

Your reactions only send continuous flushes of butterflies to Obanai's dick. The need that Obanai had for you was restless as he tried so hard to contain himself and be as soft with you, he didn't want to hurt you.

"Oba," you said breathlessly and he could've melted right there and then, the way you said his name sounded so much more intimate than how you would sound when it was just a simple make-out session.

Obanai lets out a hum of approval against your skin and tension ripples through your body at the vibrations as Obanai continues leaving the same soft red marks down your jaw and on your neck.

Obanai pulled away, giving you a soft kiss. "Can I... take your...." Obanai trailed off slowly and you nodded, knowing what he was referring to, your core uniform.

"Yes," you replied nervously.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Obanai reassured, placing a kiss on your lips. "I'm not forcing you."

"No! I want to," you replied almost too quickly that an embarrassed flush came to your cheeks.

You tensed when Obanai's hands trailed down to your waist, your body arching slightly into his touch. He hesitantly unbuttoned the rest of the buttons to the top and slid your pants off. You watched his eyes widen at the sight of the fabric slipping to the side of your chest and stomach. "Can I-?"

"You can," you say, cutting him off.

A breathless sigh leaves your mouth when his hot hand trailed up your lower stomach to experimentally squeeze the mounds of flesh. You let out a moan when Obanai's lips began to press and suck gently on the top of your breast. You covered your mouth embarrassed while you looked away from Obanai. "Sorry," you mumbled.

"You sound so pretty," he whispers in your ear, causing your cheeks to heat up. Obanai's free hand pulled the hand away from your mouth. He leaned up a bit, pulling you gently with him and slipped the black nemaki off your shoulders, placing the material somewhere near us before he lay you down on the mattress again.

Obanai's lips pressed against mine once more while a hand skimmed slowly down your body. you felt the tip of his finger tug only slightly at your underwear and you grasped his wrist, the kiss breaking.

"Do you want to stop? You don't have to do this if you don't want to," Obanai's reassures but you shake your head, signalling that I wasn't implying that.

"It's not that, I really want to," you replied breathlessly before an embarrassed flush rose onto your cheeks. "Could you take off your..."

"Huh? Oh, of course," Obanai hummed, his lips pressing the side of your jaw. you watched him slip himself out of sweats, you see the imprint of his dick press painfully against his underwear and you swallowed deeply before he straddled you once you. Obanai did that without any complaint, he must really love you all that much.

Obanai pressed a reassuring kiss on your jaw before the tips of his fingers pulled the cotton down your legs, the cool air of the room causing chills to tingle down your pale skin. "You're so pretty," Obanai says breathlessly causing butterflies to swirl in your stomach.

His fingers venture further down, tracing a path along your slick slit. The touch is electrifying, causing you to tremble in his hold, your body responding to his every movement. A helpless whimper escapes your lips, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure that courses through you.

"So wet," Obanai mumbles before looking back up to you. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," you replied quietly, opening your eyes down to Obanai. "Please, can you... touch me more."

"I'll do whatever you want me do to," Obanai replied and you let a small smile grace your lips.

At your reply, Obanai's fingers experimentally push past v slick folds, his fingers pressing past your clit, and a surge of pleasure courses through you, leaving you breathless and desperate for more. A moan left your mouth as your back arched at his touch. your reaction caused Obanai to press down slightly more and your legs squeezed around his waist, moans stringing out your mouth.

you felt his fingers slide down and he found your seeping hols, drenched with arousal. I felt a finger slowly slide inside your heat, a whimper leaving your mouth. "Does this feel good?" Obanai asked and you nodded frantically.

"So good," you whimpered as he slowly pumped in and out your soaked walls. "Making me feel so good, Obanai."

"Really?" He asked and you moaned as he inserted another finger into your walls.

"Yeah, so so good," you whimper. "So good for me, Obanai."

The sensation is overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and intensity that leaves you unable to contain your moans. you press your lips against his shoulder, muffling the sounds that escape from deep within you. His fingers explore the depths of your core, igniting a fire that consumes your every thought. Each movement, each curl, sends shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your body.

you surrender to the intoxicating rhythm of his touch, the combination of his skilled fingers and the intensity of our connection pushes you closer to the edge, teetering on the precipice of release. It's a moment of pure bliss, where time stands still, and you are consumed by the overwhelming pleasure that courses through your veins.

As Obanai fingers continued their relentless rhythm, pumping in and out of your seeping hole, there was an unfamiliar tightness growing in your lower abdomen, pleasure tightened inside your stomach. you wrap your shaky legs around him, seeking to anchor yourself to him amidst the overwhelming pleasure. your body quivers with anticipation, responding to his every touch, every movement.

you chant his name into his neck as praises leave your mouth, your voice filled with desire and need. The tears welling in your eyes are not from pain but from the overwhelming pleasure that threatens to consume you entirely.

In response to your plea, sucks the skin around your neck once more, groaning against your neck, his voice laced with desire. He begins to press your clit with the pad of his thumb, adding another layer of pleasure to the already intense sensations. The touch is electrifying, causing you to arch your back in response.

"Please, Obanai," you sob. "I need to... So good, Obanai."

"I've got you," Obanai reassured, intertwining our mouths together, his mouth swallowing the moans that slipped out your mouth.

The pleasure builds, the tension mounting with each passing second until you are on the precipice of release. It's a moment of pure surrender, where pleasure reigns supreme, and you are consumed by the overwhelming ecstasy that engulfs me.

Waves of ecstasy wash over you, leaving your legs trembling and weak from the intensity of the sensations. He slips his fingers from your hole and you continue to tremble from the aftermath of the orgasm. you managed to release yourself from Obanai's neck and move away from his hold.

"How are you feeling?" Obanai asks cupping your cheeks.

"Good," you breathe out slowly while looking into his eyes. "But, I want to make you feel good too."

"You don't need-"

"Please," you beg and you watch him swallow deeply, tension showing on his body.

Obanai asked once more. "Are you sure?"

I nod. "Please."

"Alright," He smiled gently moving off you to get himself out of his underwear and your eyes widened as you saw the size of his length. Obanai moves over you, you place your hands on his chest.

He delicately bites the shell of your ear making you let out a quiet whimper. you could feel him smile against your ear at your reaction. Obanai's touch caused you to dig your nails slightly into his chest leaving light crescent marks causing more deep exhales of breaths to get caught in your ear.

Obanai moved his head and his body suddenly firmly pressed against mine and I whimpered at the feeling of his dick pressing up against your stomach. His lips mingled with mine his minty taste and smell overflowed your senses making it a complete euphoria for you. you cupped the back of his neck to create a deeper angle for him to explore deeper into your mouth with our tongues continuing to entangle with each other.

Obanai groans into your mouth, the hand that was trailing down your thigh moved swiftly back to your waist and the other intertwined with your hair at the base of your neck, pulling you closer to him. you let out breathy sighs into him as your own hand interlaced with his black and your other wrapped around behind his neck.

His other hand moved its way down to tightly lift your thigh up which made his body mould closer to mine making you feel his dick press up against your soaked core. The kiss slows down and turns soft and almost desperate it's as if he wants to take his time with you, savouring every inch of your taste, to take his sweet time to memorise you.

"You're doing so good," Obanai pants agasint your lips and I didn't have time to reply as he pressed them against you once more. "I'm going to do it now. If it hurts, please tell me, I don't want to hurt you."

"Okay," you reply.

He presses his lips against mine to take your mind off the pain that's probably soon to come. you feel a hard tip get lubricated at your entrance making your back arch into him as you let out a strangled moan of pleasure into his mouth. He continues to push further into you making your eyebrows furrow together in pain but the pleasure is still overwhelming your senses making tears prick at your eyes.

"Oh, you feel so good," Obanai whimpers into your neck. "You're so perfect."

"You feel so good," you moan. The feeling of pure ecstasy of him fully entered you, the pain gone.

you feel his dick scraping across your plush walls in all the right places as he slowly exited your cunt, but not fully. Our moans and whimpers get swallowed by each other. you feel his thrusts speed up and you moan in response, your walls clenching around him causing the grip Obanai held on your thigh and waist to tighten.

The coil in your stomach getting tighter and your moans slightly became higher. Obanai continued to groan into your neck after he pulled away from the heated kiss.

"You make- me feel so goo- d," you say moaning throughout your sentence, "Feels so good-"

"I'm close-," He groans.

"Me too," you choke out.

you felt the coil in your stomach snap as your back arched painfully into Obanai's bare chest causing Obanai to groan and his arms moved to wrap tightly around you. After a few more pumps Obanai came, letting a few more rolls of his hips into you to help ride out both our highs before he pulled out slowly, making sure not to hurt you.

Obanai slumped down beside you before he slipped the condom off his length and walked over to the bathroom with a warm, damp wash cloth to clean you up and after he did so, you did the same.

"I love you so much," you tell him as we lay down together, our legs and arms entangling, bare bodies pressed against each other.

"I love you more," Obanai replies, holding you tighter.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | demon slayer m.list

[walpu]

I've got those requests almost at the same time jsrfwwxewe also I fucked up big time and accidentally deleted them but thanks god I've made the screenshots

I've been looking forward to writing something nsfw for him lmao

nsfw headcanons w/Aventurine

characters - Aventurine notes - gn!reader, nsfw, subby!Aven. Somehow turned into a character study. Somewhat angsty but with a turn for hurt/comfort. No beta.

Okay, first of all, he's no virgin. But he's NOT a manwhore either. Like for some reason when it comes to the cunning characters it's always either he's a dickrider-pussydestroyer-900 or he's actually a fragile innocent virgin baby. Not the case with Aventurine, not on my watch at least.

I mean it's pretty much canon that the only moment he feels truly alive is when he's gambling so he won't seek sex for the purpose of filling up the hole in his heart. And I don't see him as a lustful person in general.

He has one-night stands from time to time though. Not particularly often but once in a while he feels a certain level of frustration and stress budling up in him so in order to distress without losing his cool he seeks sexual relief. For him it's a safe way to relax a bit without actually taking off the mask of a frivolous and confident man.

Also. He's very touch starved. Not even in a lustful way, he just wants to feel someone's touch. Someone on twitter pointed out that he's practically hugging himself on his e6 and I haven't been the same ever since.

And now look at his body language in almost every cutscene. He has his arms crossed and is generally pretty reversed. I think he doesn't trust people around enough to be in his personal space but when it's a part of the sexual act, it's just natural. He doesn't have to feel exposed. So yeah. This is another reason why he seeks sex.

Now do you remember what Sparkle said to him? About stripping himself naked for Sunday and all that? Yeah I feel like he gets comments like that a lot due to people's prejudice against Avgins. People are usually not this straightforward butttt the idea behind their comments is the same.

He may act unaffected as long as he wants to but I do think it messed him up quite a bit.

Due to his fucked up views on his own value and his sexuality he doesn't have a healthy set of boundaries with his partners, allowing them to be as mean and rough as they want. And I don't mean just kinky stuff, I mean genuinely uncaring partners who really don't give a shit about Aven's comfort. I think subconsciously he seeks people like this. In his eyes, it's better this way, otherwise he may crumble from a gently and caring touch.

So yeah. His sexual encounters usually leave him sore and exhausted. The initial feeling of relief washes away in the morning, leaving him more empty than before.

Okay now to the happier part because we are 466 words in and I still didn't say anything good or sexy.

If the two of you started your relationship as a fling then initially he would be surprised because of how observant and attentive you are.

"My, my, how caring you are. But don't worry about me, you're free to use me as you wish" he says in the same flirty tone as usual. And you just. Stare.

He acts like he's bored while you literally pry the information out of him and, well, he doesn't give you anything specific anyway so you have to ask questions during the whole prosses to make sure he's doing fine. Orrr you just set for something very vanilla just in case.

In reality he's a bit confused. Has mixed feeling about this. Being treated with such care makes it harder for him to hide behind his mask but it feels so nice.

And when he realizes that he has actual feelings for you he just. Stops sleeping with you lmao. If you have questions about this he'll find 2134144 excuses but in reality he just tries to figure out his own feelings.

If you started off as friends then he would not try to sleep with you until you start dating. At first he just doesn't want to mix up this dynamics. And when he catches feelings, he just tries to make sense of it. Plus since sex is not something entirely positive for him, he's just kind of... unsure how it may affect your relationship even if it's obvious that the two of you want each other.

Okay now the real talk. When the two of you are officially lovers be prepared to face his messed up views on his own sexuality. Will probably need a lot of reassurance, attention and aftercare to realize the importance of his own safety and comfort. Learns to value himself through you.

A very good lover, knows how to please you and wants to please you. His previous sex partners weren't important to him so he didn't go out of his way to make them feel good but with you it's a different story. Literally worships your body, pressing kisses everywhere. Especially likes your thighs. Kisses them, bites them, leaves marks all over them. Loooooves teasing them while keeping eye contact with you right before giving you oral.

I feel like he's a switch but leans towards being a sub. May dom if you want him to or, rarely, if he feels like it.

May look like a brat but is not actually a brat. Well, most of the time. He's a tease but still does pretty much everything you want without making you work for it. However, if he's in a playful mood, may get all cheeky with you. Says stuff like: "Oh, that's all? I know you can do better" or "My dearest, don't disappoint me, okay? You know I don't make deals that don't pay off" just to rile you up. He loves being tamed okay. He knows you won't hurt him so him being all cheeky and disobedient is actually a huge sign that he's comfortable with you and trusts you fully.

Worship his body and he'll melt. Like. He'll genuinely crumble.

Goes all worked up and needy and soft and completely submissive in your arms.

Loves loves loves edging you. And fucking hate being edged. And by "hates" I mean he will whine and sulk and beg you to let him cum already. Secretly loves it but won't admit. You know it anyway since he never tries to stop you, obeying your every command, like a good boy he is. If you tell him that you'll stop doing that if he actually wants you to he'll huff and admit that he's not actually against you being a meanie.

Loves marking your body and loves when you mark his. HOWEVER would prefer to leave/have hickeys on the parts of your bodies that are usually covered. Doesn't want to create any rumors and doesn't want to make you uncomfortable. However, if you're into this, he'll gladly cover your entire neck with hickeys.

Is actually very sensitive pretty much everywhere so it's quite easy to overstimulate him. Once again, he'll whine but would never be against it.

Has the pretties moans and is very loud as well.

Doesn't have a lot of stamina so if he tops and you're still not satisfied after he cums, he'll use toys to entertain you up until he is ready for another round. If he bottoms then please give him some time to rest. Andddd kiss all over his body so he would get worked up again as soon as possible.

Has a praise kink. And a bit of a degradation kink too actually. Don't just insult him, mix it up with a praise and boom he's ready to cum.

Loves aftercare. Both giving and receiving it. He feels extremely vulnerable after a sensual lovemaking session so please just hold him and tell him he did great.

[eclipseslayer]

TRICK-OR-TREAT

• STALKER!TOJI FUSHIGURO X F!READER

• Day 4 of Kinktober: Knifeplay.

• SUMMARY: Thinking you're just opening up the door to some kid who's trick-or-treating, you instead open it up to a fully-grown man in a Scream costume.

• CW: Stalker!Toji, DUB-CON, knifeplay, penetrative sex.

• WC: 2.1k

MDNI! 18+ ONLY!

Ding dong.

You groan, feeling annoyed while you turn your head to look at the clock.

It's eight o'clock. Trick-or-treaters are supposed to be home, now.

You hang your head, and with a pivot of your heel, you turn to head back to the front door. You grab the bowl of candy that sits on a pedestal in the entryway, and you put it on your hip while your hand grips the door handle.

You twist the knob, and, slowly, you pull the door open.

"It's eight, now, aren't you supposed to be..." Your words trail off once you're met with the sight in front of you.

Instead of a small child, or an annoyingly over-grown teenager, you're met with a hulking shadow: a man, tall and wide dressed in a Scream outfit that drapes over him like a black curtain, and the Ghostface mask hides his countenance. It's almost eerie.

"I uh..." You clear your throat, and you put the candy bowl back onto its pedestal. "...can I help you?"

Your words are meek, and as you look up at the man is front of you, you could almost tell that he was smirking underneath the mask.

"Trick-or-treat."

His voice is deep, and it makes your hair on your arms raise. He holds out a bag full of candy to you, and your eyebrows raise.

"O-Oh." You turn your back to him and you reach out to grab the bowl of candy, but, before you can think, you hear a heavy thud which makes you whip your head towards the sound. The big bag of candy had dropped to the floor, and the man had shoved his way into your home, pushing past your doorframe.

"Trick-or-treat."

Slam!

You jump, and immediately feel a shockwave of cold wash over you, entrapping your body in what feels like a block of ice as you see the door slams behind you, with the hulking man walking in.

Slowly, he approaches you, with heavy boots thudding against the wooden floors, until he pushes you up against the wall in the entryway to your home, trapping you beneath his broad body.

He leans down, and you can feel the plastic of his mask scrape against your ear, and you hear him whiff.

"Finally..." He groans, and slowly he begins to press himself against you, his lower-half meets yours and you let out a whimper.

You're shaking, practically quivering like a scared puppy in the night, abandoned and left to fend for itself under the scary shadows of the darkness.

"I've been waiting... for so, long," he moans into your ear and he presses his lower-half up against you again. You gasp when you feel a raging boner.

"P-Please... p-please, d-don't..." You stutter out, but the man rumbles a low chuckle.

"Oh, your sweet, sweet begging sounds as good as I thought it would be..." He grumbles and he leans in and pushes his mask up just barely so you can see his lips, and his strong features of his jaw.

Your legs quiver and you whimper again, and your hands grip onto the wall, searching for anything to hold onto.

"P-Please... no!" You beg louder, desperate for this man to hear you, but your pleading sounds of desperation fall onto deaf ears.

He continues his onslaught as he starts to kiss onto your neck, leaving small marks onto your skin as he begins to suck and pull with his teeth.

Whining, you try and pull your head to the side to escape his sudden marks, but, he quickly stops you by placing a large, gloved hand around your neck, preventing you from moving, making you gasp as air is suddenly swept away from you.

"Stop movin' so much, damn," he hisses under his breath, and then quickly puts his teeth back into your neck.

You go to protest, but, before you can, you suddenly see him reach into the sleeve of his robe, where he slowly digs around for something. He grunts when he finds it, and when he pulls it out, you're shocked.

A knife.

Shiny and untouched, with a heavy, thick, black, blunt handle.

"W-What—"

"Shh, shh..." the man coos, and he pulls away from your neck. He moves his head so he's facing you now, once again, and you see the scar twitch on his lips as a slow smirk creeps upon his expression.

You whimper.

"It's okay, sweetheart," he murmurs, and he removes the gloved hand from around your throat. " 'M just takin' ya clothes off, see?"

He grips the knife handle firmly between a fist, and, pinning you down with his other hand, he slowly drags the edge of the blade across your stomach until it lands on the hem of your shirt.

Your breath hitches and your eyes widen as you feel something stir between your legs.

Panic rises in you when you realize that you're enjoying this.

You're enjoying being taken advantage of, and toyed with as you watch him drag the knife along the hem of your shirt.

You let out a shaky breath when you feel the cold metal meet your skin, and your legs press together out of habit, making him come to a halt.

He looks up at you; black eyes of the mask meet yours.

"You likin' this?" He asks, bluntly, and you swallow thickly. You want to answer no, and shake your head and beg for him to stop, but the sudden cool feeling of the knife brisking over your skin made you want otherwise.

"I..." You can't even bring yourself to answer the truth, so you nod your head.

Slowly, a grin crawls onto his lips, and he lets out a hearty chuckle.

"Ahh... knew ya'd like this kinky shit. I imaged ya would... always thought a good lookin' girl like you would like this..." He murmurs, and he leans back into your neck and resumes leaving marks onto your skin.

You lean your head back against the wall and finally you accept this as you let out a soft moan.

He hums against your skin, and he twists the knife, ripping the hem of your shirt. He drags it up, ripping the fabric in half, and lets it fall off of your body.

"Fuck... your moans... make me so hard..." He murmurs and he moves his face back in front of you again. Those black eyes meet yours once more.

"You gonna be good 'n still for me if I let you go?" He tilts his head, and, feeling like a puppy dog once more under his mysterious gaze, you nod.

"Y-Yes, Mr. Ghostface," you reply, meekly, and he chuckles darkly.

"Toji, sweetheart," he corrects you and he places the knife under your chin, humming with delight when he sees you squeeze your legs together again.

"R-Right... Toji..."

He nods and he removes his hands from you and then he slowly moves them to your pants. He takes his knife and puts the blade inside your jeans, and slowly begins to rip the fabric down the middle seam.

You gasp with each tear, only whimpering as you feel the cool metal brushing against your skin. It sets a fire within you, one of need, slowly kindling it's way to your heated core.

Your hands needily grasp at the wall behind you, searching, looking for something to hold onto while you shiver underneath the knife, but fail, so you resort to biting your lip to restrain the climbing anticipation.

The knife feeds the anticipation when you feel it cut through your panties, splitting them in half, just as the knife did with your jeans. The fabric of your clothes fall to the floor, leaving you bare and needy.

You whine, looking at the floor then back up at the masked man who's smirk remains untouched.

Your gaze goes back to the knife in his hand and you swallow thickly as you watch it, following it carefully as it ghosts over your skin, leaving you resorting to soft, needy whimpers.

You gasp as you feel the back of the blade glide over your skin. The coolness leaves goosebumps in their wake. It glides over your stomach, making it cave in and out as you react to the cool curve of the knife, and then it glides down to your pelvis, leaving you to your own devices as you bite your lip even more, whimpering in anticipation.

Then, it glides down, the blunt back of the blade moves between your folds, making you gasp. You grip Toji's arm in retaliation but he hushes you.

"Toji—!"

"Shh... don't worry, doll. Not gonna hurt you... I've finally got you where I want you, and you think that that's what I'm gonna do? Naw. I need this pussy all pretty 'n nice for me. Ima be careful, sweetheart."

It's thrilling, how the blade moves between your pussy. You think that any second now he's going to turn the blade over—despite his words—and cut you, but, he doesn't, which makes it so enticing.

You whine, wanting to squirm but you stay still under the blade's touch. Toji notices this, making his smirk only grow. He lets out a low chuckle and he finally removes the blade from your pussy. He brings it up to his face. You can tell he's looking at it, as it's covered in your slick, from underneath the mask. He hums and brings it to his lips and tastes it, groaning at how good it tastes.

"Fuck... just like I imagined," he grunts, and he brings his hands down and begins to unbuckle his belt. He fumbles for a minute, until he finally lets his pants fall down around his ankles, soon followed by his underwear.

When he reveals himself, you're aghast. He huge—thick and sturdy, and long—and he's dripping with precum.

You swallow thickly.

Then, slowly, he brings his cock to the entrance of your pussy. He takes one of your legs and hoists it around his waist, grunting, until finally, he presses the big tip into your pussy, where he lets out a groan.

You moan in response, feeling the tip kiss into your pussy, just barely pushing in. He huffs and, in one swift movement, he hoists up your other leg and places it around his waist, and his large meaty hands grip your thighs, and, with another quick movement, he thrusts in.

"Toji!" You shout, and your hands fly to his hair and you grip it, feeling his cock suddenly swell within you, filling you up so that your walls cling to him in a vice grip.

He grits his teeth and groans, burying his face into your neck, leaving the plastic on the mask pressing against your cheek. "Shuddup. Goddamn, holy fuck, you're so tight," he mutters quickly in a single breath, huffing. "Love it—ya feel s'good."

He pulls back his hips, and, wham!

Another single thrust that leaves his cock pressing up against your pussy. You whine loudly in response, and, then, without warning, he does it again.

And again.

And again.

Until he starts building a rhythm, where he constantly is slamming into you, roughly, stretching you out with no warnings. Only grunts, groans, and curses are expelled from Toji, and you moan loudly, clawing at his back as you feel him all around.

"Toji! Toji!" You moan, crying at this point from how good it feels to have his cock pushing in and out of you, scraping against your insides from how big he is.

"That's right, say my name, doll, say it. Say it like you're mine," he grits through his teeth, nearly growling in your ear.

"Toji!" You shout again, louder than the last few.

His cock feels so good as it bullies into you, making you dumb on his cock. You become boneless, and one with the wall as you melt into it, feeling so numb because of his good this stranger's cock is.

It continues to bully into you, hitting that oh-so delicious spot over, and over again that makes you—

"Oh, oh, oh!"

—cum.

You shake, and shiver, and your legs clamp around the stranger as you cum, and soon afterwards, you feel a familiar warmth fill you as Toji suddenly spills his seed without warning.

"Fuck, you were grippin' me so tight..." He groans into your ear, and huffs, becoming out of breath as he suddenly lets you go, dropping you to the ground.

A triumphant grin is plastered onto his face and plants his hands on his hips as he catches his breath.

"Bet ya that's the only treat ya got for Halloween, huh?"

[michelle-is-writing]

Unsuspecting Suspect, Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.2k~

In movies, the "pregnant women always have to go to the bathroom" is a popular joke to use. However, what most people don't realize is that the joke is highly played down. What you see in movies is nothing compared to what really occurs.

What really occurs is getting up from bed after only five minutes of getting comfortable to go to the bathroom for the fiftieth time that day. Not to mention you've become so used to the bathroom that you don't even have to turn the lights on or anything - you already know where everything is. Plus, if you're me, then that also means picking up your husbands lazily discarded pants that are crumpled up on the floor with his gun and all of his badges still hooked on there just so you can wash your hands.

"Spencer, I know you've worked long and hard," I start, picking up his wrinkled slacks from the bathroom floor. "But if your pregnant wife has to continue bending over and picking up your pants every time she has to use the bathroom because your daughter seems to think my bladder is a punching bag," I begin taking everything off of his belt. "Then I might just have to use you as a punching bag."

"I'm sorry!" I hear him apologize from the bedroom, an ounce of laughter behind his voice. "I forget and just leave them there - I'm sorry!" Spencer repeats himself, making me bite my lip from laughter. He has eidetic memory, and yet, he still 'forgets' his pants when he takes them off everyday he comes home from work.

Taking his badge off his belt and placing it on the counter, I begin dismantling everything else as well. The last thing to remove is his gun and holster, and with this clunky thing, I try as hard as I can to not let it make a sound as I put it on the countertop. Spencer has been very quiet for the past few minutes, and if he's fallen asleep, I don't want to accidentally wake him up.

I just hope he's not quiet because he's worrying himself sick. As of lately, he's had a stalker that the BAU can't seem to figure out who they are. They know they're male, going by the style of handwriting, and they know he has a pattern. Every Tuesday, a letter is sent to Spencer's desk at the BAU, and yet, there's never a return address or fingerprints to go off of. Today was Tuesday, and for some reason, Spencer didn't receive anything. It worried Spencer a lot, but I'm just hoping the stalker has given up; however, his previous letters show no sign of him doing this which makes this all more worrisome.

"No, no, please," I hear Spencer's voice from the bedroom once more, making my eyes go wide as I quickly catch onto the fright and panic in his tone. Who is he talking to? Especially when I've been in this bathroom no longer than five minutes, and I didn't hear a phone ring or anything.

"You are Spencer Reid," My ears catch a very unfamiliar voice, causing me to fully come to a halt with Spencer's revolver still in my hand. Who the hell is in my house? And how the hell did they get in?

Silently padding over to the bathroom doorway, I try as hard as I can to crack open the door enough to see who's in our house. As I do so, I feel my heart beat a mile a minute, and the little girl in my stomach still hasn't given up on her kicking assault. "Your birthday is October of nineteen-eighty-one. Your mother,"

The man pauses to laugh, appearing as if he were trying to mock Spencer; I take this chance to open the doorway as much as I can without alerting the man, and thankfully, it seems to be a success. "The poor old broad can't decipher through her own mind - never has been able to," The man continues. "Finally, you turn eighteen, you send her away, and you go on to live your own life in college and, soon enough, the BAU,"

Slowly peeking around the corner, I see the man talking to a very wide-awake Spencer with his gun raised at him, no mask concealing his face. Instead, his entire body is covered in black material spanning from a dark turtleneck all the way down to pitch black slacks and charcoal boots. Yet, his head and face are completely visible to anyone who sees him, and going by the fact that he's doing such a thing, he thinks he's going to get away with it and not get caught. Not on my watch.

"You've spent- no, wasted! Wasted nearly eleven years of your life on a job that prevents you from actually having a life!" At the mans words, I squint my eyes while readying Spencer's gun in my hands. "Face it, doctor Reid - you are nothing! I am smart - we are smart! But you have married yourself to your job that doesn't need you; it needs me," with that, the man pauses once again, but this time, he begins to pant, obviously worked up over what he's been saying. This guy has to be one of the most conceited guys to walk the earth.

"Now," The man states, leveling his eyesight with the gun once again. "Was there anything I missed?"

At this point, I come around the bathroom corner with Spencer's gun raised at the man. Through the sights, I see the two small pieces of metal lining up with the mans head, and in my peripherals, I see Spencer warily nod his head as he glances over me with extreme and utter nervousness.

"Uh, y-yes, actually," my husband answers, swallowing down his worry as the fate of his life rests at the tip of my fingers. Now that I think about it, if it weren't for Spencer's bad habit of leaving his pants in the middle of the bathroom floor, I wouldn't have the ability to save him right now.

Just as the man turns around, I line up the sights with his head once again as I pull the hammer back, the trigger following soon after. Watching as the man quickly goes down with no life left in him, only slight convulsions surging through him now, I slowly let my hands fall back to my side as the realization of what just occurred passes through me. I just shot someone... someone who was threatening my husband's life, but still! I've never done that before, and I never want to have to do it ever again!

Within a few moments of my eyes widening in shock, I feel Spencer take me into his arms while slowly taking the gun out of my hand and tossing it onto our bed. "You did so well, love," Spencer assures me in my ear, making me slowly sit on the ground with him as shock runs through me. I'm so stunned by what just happened that I can barely breathe. "You did good, baby, you did so good. I'm so proud of you."

Despite Spencer's words running through my head, I find myself suddenly gasping as I realize something. "Baby! The baby!" I almost shout, turning my head toward Spencer as my now free hand falls to my thirty-week old bump. "Spence, the-the noise, the noise! Could the noise have hurt her ears?"

Immediately, Spencer shakes his head before moving to place his hand on top of mine, his other hand raising at the same time to wipe away the sudden rush of tears falling down my face. "No, no, she's fine, (Y/n), she's fine," Spencer assures me, gently rubbing his thumb against my clothed belly. "The muscles and amniotic fluid protect her, so when the noise does reach her ears, it's extremely muffled," he further explains, gently taking my face into his hands to turn me toward him. "But I am going to have a medic look over you and the baby when they get here, okay?"

Keeping my eyes on his, I nod before laying my head against his chest, a small sigh falling from my lips. "He was the stalker, right?" I ask Spencer, my eyes flickering up to his face as his hand reaches down to gently card through my hair.

Spencer simply nods. "Yeah, he was," he tells me, making me shake my head. "The way he spoke, it's how he wrote his letters," Spencer further explains, "He was an obvious narcissist with a superiority complex - just like his letters."

That would explain the man's words from earlier and how selfish they all were. Although, what if the cops don't believe us and arrest me in spite of what's been going on? I know Spencer wouldn't have gotten in trouble shooting him as a BAU agent, but what about me?

"Spencer, am I going to jail?" I immediately ask, my eyes growing wide as panic sets in my chest.

"No, no, you aren't, and you need to calm down," Spencer tells me, holding my head to his chest as he kisses my temple. He's trying to comfort me while also preventing me from looking over at the dead man currently lying on our bedroom floor. "You did nothing wrong, that was self-defense, and you protected me as well as save me from the man who was going to kill me, no doubt," he points out, his voice growing softer with every word. "You're awesome, love."

In response to his comment, I find myself lightly laughing with tears rising to my eyes again. That's what I usually tell Spencer when he gets back from a case and they successfully stopped a killer. Even if the case goes awry and Spencer returns home sad or disappointed in himself, I still remind him of my usual compliment. Now, much to my disbelief, the roles have reversed and now it is me who has stopped the bad guy.

Once my breathing is slowed and my panic has settled down, Spencer helps me go back to our bathroom where he makes me stay. Without wasting anymore time, Spencer grabs his phone from his side table and dials the police before walking through the house with his gun in hand to make sure there are no other intruders. Thankfully, there isn't, and Spencer soon returns to the bathroom to take me out to the living room, getting me as far away from the dead body as he can all the while making sure I remain comfortable.

Sitting behind me on the couch, Spencer makes me lie between his legs as I rest my back against his chest, his right hand rubbing soothing circles against my bump while he uses his other to dial up his team. Thankfully, soon of them are still at the office working late when Spencer calls.

"(Y/n) shot the stalker?" I hear Derek's familiar tone over the phone as Spencer explains the situation. As he goes on, the sound of sirens in the distance slowly grow closer, and the only thing I can do is hold a hand to my swollen tummy as our little girl gives the occasional kick to my ribs.

"Yes, directly in the head," Spencer answers Derek with a quick glance over to our bedroom where the dead body remains, the spilled blood from his wound no doubt soaking into floor. I never would have listed 'blood is easier to clean up' as a pro when choosing hardwood over carpet. "She shot like a trained officer."

Spencer's comment warrants a rare chuckle from their boss. "Too bad she wasn't able to help you when you failed your shooting test and needed to retake it," Hotch's voice pipes up from the background, causing Spencer to let out a little 'hey!' in response. In light of the situation, I laugh a little at that. I can remember him calling me after failing it and I had to tell him it was okay. Of course, in his mind, it wasn't.

"I don't fail tests." I remember him telling me, making me laugh. No matter what I said, he still continued on about failing the test, unable to let it go.

"The team will be here in a few minutes, okay?" I hear him tell me, bringing me out of my thoughts and back to the moment. I hadn't even realized he ended the call with his team.

Still, I nod back at him, only a few seconds passing before he's leaning over and pressing his lips against my cheek. "It'll all be okay," He assures me, making me slightly nod with another small shuddered breath. "I promise," He further assures me, sensing my anxiety. "I'd never let anything happen to my hero~"

[anniebeemine]

could I request a one shot on how spencer would react to his gf having to go undercover to be the unsubs next victim? (gf isn’t part of the bau, but matches the description of the unsubs previous victims, so the team wants her to go undercover for them)

I got a little carried away with this one. Truly, it can end at the divider

warnings: contact with the unsub, little bit of blood, some manhandling from the unsub for like two seconds

"Someone needs to go undercover," Hotch announces, his tone grave as he scans the team gathered in the cramped conference room of the Los Angeles police station. The tension is palpable, each member of the BAU silently weighing the dangers of the assignment. Spencer sits up straighter, his mind racing through possible people that could match the unsub's victimology. Hotch continues before he can offer any suggestions, "And someone has already agreed."

The door creaks open, and the team's heads turn as you step into the room. Spencer's eyes widen, and a cold dread washes over him as he connects the dots.

"Absolutely not," Spencer blurts out, standing so quickly that his chair scrapes loudly against the floor. He crosses the room in two strides, his hazel eyes locked on yours, a mixture of fear and disbelief swirling in their depths. "No. You're not doing this."

You raise a hand to shush him, your expression calm but resolute. "Spence, listen—"

"No," he interrupts, his voice growing louder, the usual calm of his demeanor fraying at the edges. "You don't understand. This isn't—this is too dangerous. You're not even in the field anymore, why are you even here?"

You blink, taken aback by his final thought. The room seems to close in as the weight of his words hangs in the air, cutting deeper than either of you expected. For a moment, you're stunned into silence, trying to process the hurt behind his outburst.

"Spencer," you start, your voice wavering slightly, "I'm here because I can help. I know I'm not in the field anymore, but I was undercover for years.

This is what I trained for, what I’ve done countless times before. I know the risks, and I know how to handle myself."

Spencer's eyes widen with realization, the anger in them quickly replaced by something softer, more pained. "I know you were. But that’s exactly why I’m scared. You’ve been through so much already… I don’t want you to go back to that."

His words hit you like a wave, crashing over memories you’d tried so hard to bury. You remember the years spent pretending to be someone else—multiple someone elses—slipping into roles that made you a ghost, a shadow. You were whoever you needed to be to get the job done, to bring the bad guys down, but in the process, you lost track of who you were. The lines between yourself and your cover identities blurred until you could barely recognize yourself in the mirror.

The things you saw, the lives you lived, haunted you. There were nights you couldn't sleep, images of violence and betrayal looping in your mind. You had seen the worst of humanity up close, and it had left its mark, chipping away at your sense of self, your sense of safety. Every time you pulled on a new identity, it was like losing another piece of yourself, until there was almost nothing left.

And then Spencer came into your life.

You met him when you were at your lowest, just after a mission that had gone wrong. You were raw, broken in ways you couldn’t articulate. He saw through the layers of deception, through the masks you wore, and somehow, he saw you—the person you’d forgotten you could be. Spencer, with his awkward charm, his brilliance, and his unwavering compassion, helped you start to piece yourself back together.

It wasn't an easy thing to do. Even now, there are some days where you struggle to remember what it feels like to be a real person. You left your job, taking a position that kept you stationary.

"I know what you're afraid of, and I won't pretend I'm not scared too. But I've come a long way since then. You helped me find myself again, and I’m not going to lose that. This is different. I’m different. And I know who I am now. I’m not going back to being lost." Your voice is soft.

He sighs. "It's not just that."

You frown, searching his face. "Then what is it?"

Instead of answering right away, he reaches into the file he’s been holding, his hands trembling slightly as he pulls out a stack of photographs. He hesitates for a moment, as if he’s deciding whether or not to show them to you, before finally placing them on the table between you.

Your heart sinks as you look down. The photos are arranged in a cruel contrast, with the driver's license photos of the victims on the left and the images of their mutilated bodies on the right. The transformation is horrifying, a chilling reminder of what’s at stake. You shiver involuntarily, the reality of the danger sinking in.

"Spencer…"

His voice is thick with emotion as he speaks. "These women… they didn’t have a chance. He’s meticulous, careful. They didn’t see it coming until it was too late. I just… I can’t stand the thought of you becoming another one of these photos."

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you meet his gaze. "I understand, Spence. I do. But this time, I’ll be under the watchful eyes of the FBI. I won’t be alone."

He nods, though the worry doesn’t leave his eyes. "Just… promise me you’ll be careful."

"I promise," you whisper, leaning in to kiss his cheek before standing up. The heaviness of the moment lingers as you make your way out of the station, your heart pounding with a mixture of fear and determination.

+++

The bar is dimly lit, the hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses creating a low buzz in the background. You walk in, trying to shake off the nerves that have settled in the pit of your stomach. You remind yourself of the plan, of the safety net in place, but the unease lingers.

You spot Spencer in a corner booth, his eyes tracking your every move. He leans back when he sees you, his expression neutral but you can see the tension in his jaw, the tightness in his shoulders. You give him a small, reassuring smile, brushing your hair behind your ear as you settle into a table towards the back of the bar.

Moments later, the door opens, and you feel a chill run down your spine as the unsub walks in. He’s dressed casually, a smile on his face as he spots you and makes his way over. He sits across from you, his smile widening in a way that makes your skin crawl.

"Hi," he says, calling you by your given name as he leans in slightly, his eyes scanning your face. "You look even more beautiful in person."

You force a smile, matching his tone as you flirt back. "You’re not so bad yourself."

The date continues, each moment carefully orchestrated. You laugh at his jokes, touch his arm lightly, all the while keeping an eye on the clock. Every second feels like an eternity, but you know it’s all part of the plan.

As the evening winds down, he offers to walk you to your car, just as you expected. You nod, standing up and smoothing your dress. "Sure, but I need to pay the bill first."

That was the plan—to walk away, giving the undercover officers the signal to swoop in and arrest him. But as you turn to head to the bar, you feel his hand grip your arm tightly, pulling you back. Panic flares in your chest as you try to pull away, but his hold is firm.

"Wait," he says, his voice low and tinged with an edge of desperation. "What’s wrong? Why are you in such a hurry to leave?"

Your mind races, trying to come up with something to say, but the fear is overwhelming, clouding your thoughts. "I… I just need to pay—"

Before you can finish, he pushes you away, hard. You stumble, your foot catching on the leg of a chair as you crash into the table behind you. The world spins as you hit the ground, the table toppling over with a loud crash.

For a split second, everything is chaos. Patrons gasp and shout, scrambling out of their seats. You try to push yourself up, but the room feels like it’s spinning. Then, out of nowhere, a man—another undercover officer, you realize—tackles the unsub to the ground, wrestling with him as other officers rush in to secure him.

Spencer is by your side in an instant, his hands trembling as he kneels down to check on you. "Are you okay?"

You manage a small, shaky smile, trying to reassure him. "See? Told you I’d be fine."

But his eyes widen in alarm as he looks down at your arm. "You’re bleeding."

You turn to see a shard of glass embedded in your arm, a steady stream of blood trickling down your skin. The sight makes you dizzy, but you shrug it off, wincing as you try to stand. "It’ll make a good scar."

[splatashahowlett]

outcasts

logan howlett x reader

you've always been on your own wavelength. always on another planet; in your own little world. you couldn't help it, what you could create in your head was far more interesting than whatever people around you could say or do.

your favorite hobby was to try and find poetry in everything you could see: a willow tree? Do you mean the reincarnation of zeus's nurse? the same one ophelia died under when she realized hamlet could never give her the love she needed?

seeing life this way was way more fun, and if being made fun of was the price to pay to keep your internal peace intact then it was worth it. kids weren't really kind or comprehensive toward your unique mindset. now that you were a grown-up; nothing really changed. you were still enjoying what life gave you with your own approach and people still made fun of you.

except for one person: logan.

which was quite paradoxical because he was known for his judgmental stares and mocking scoffs. he never grew any soft spot for anybody and then you came around, and he fell down the rabbit hole quicker than ever. he was completely mesmerized by you and threatened anybody who dared to even think about mocking your... behavior. at first, you didn't even notice him but you started enjoying his presence more and more. and you finally joined him in the love spiral he was a prisoner of.

logan was standing on the school's porch, cigar in his mouth, watching the students run inside as the rain came pouring down.

the storm was near.

but you didn't care; you stayed still.

"come inside," he called over his shoulder. "get outta the rain." logan called out.

you stayed silent, not even paying attention to him. you were looking at the sky.

"you're gettin' soaked." he grunted. everybody else could have heard a flicker of annoyance in his voice but you knew it was concern and care.

logan glared at you, the annoyance on his face growing. he knew you could be stubborn, which he loved about you, but he didn't want you to catch a cold.

"stop bein' so damn stubborn and get yer ass inside." he growled, his voice commanding but still gentle.

you finally turned around and acknowledged his presence. "I like the rain" you simply answered.

logan frowned, his brow furrowing. he didn't like the fact that you were willingly getting drenched in the downpour.

"you're gonna catch a cold." he grumbled, the gruffness in his voice masked his worry.

"I'll heal"

logan couldn't help but smile softly; he fell harder for you each day. "come with me" you added

the wolverine sighed, his annoyance faded slightly at your request. he can never say no to you, despite his gruff demeanor.

"fine. but we ain't gonna be out here long." he grumbled, stubbing out his cigar on the porch before walking over to you.

he walked down the steps and stopped beside you, his broad frame blocked part of the rain. his arms folded over his chest, and his yellow eyes surveyed the storm.

"I thought you'd be inside, dry and warm." he commented; knowing you liked to stay under the covers, safe from the harsh reality of a world against mutants.

"Isn't it soothing? standing under the rain. knowing you cannot escape it; feeling like it washes you clean?" you said, still in your own bubble.

"guess I hadn't thought of it like that." he admits gruffly. he listens to your words, actually pausing to consider what you say. his eyes roam over your face, studying your expression as you speak. his thoughts wander, remembering how he found your ability to detach from reality strangely comforting. It made you seem almost ethereal.

"you're different from anyone I've ever met before." he spoke up, his deep voice barely above a whisper, almost lost in the howling of the wind.

"you're different from anyone I've ever met before" you said back, looking at him lovingly. he smiled, a rare sight if anybody asked him but something quite common if they asked you. he was still struggling to get used to the softer side of himself that you seemed to bring out, even after all this time.

the storm was raging around you but seemed to fade into the background as he looked into your eyes.

his heart quickened, the gruff exterior faltering as he held your gaze.

"thank you for not making fun of me"

his expression softened even further, his rough exterior crumbling even more. He knew that you've been ridiculed for who you are, and he hated that.

"of course, I won't make fun of ya." he replied "I like you the way you are."

you wrap your hands around his middle; burying your face in his chest.

caught off guard by your unexpected embrace, it took logan a moment to reciprocate. hesitantly, he wraped his arms around you, holding you against him.

he could feel your head resting on his chest, his heart rate increased as he realized how intimate this moment was. the rain continued to fall around you, each drop adding to the surreal atmosphere of the moment. It created a strange sense of intimacy, the cool water running over your bodies while you held each other. he tightened his arms around you, pulling you closer to him.

"could you stay with me?" you pleaded

he hesitated for a moment, not because he didn't want to, but because he wasn't used to being asked to stay.

"Yeah." He said gruffly, his voice betraying a hint of vulnerability. "I'll stay."

"no, I mean, forever." you raised your head, looking at him. "I don't think I can live without you anymore" you confessed.

logan's heart thunders in his chest, the unexpected declaration taking him completely by surprise. his eyes widened slightly, revealing the depth of his emotions.

"forever...?" he repeated, his voice soft and almost unsure. he never thought you would ask that, but hearing those words from you, it ignited something deep within him. he looked down at you, his hand moving to gently cup your cheek.

you slowly nodded. "now that I know what it's like to be loved by you and to love you in return I don't think I can manage not to"

your words hit logan like a ton of bricks. he's never heard anyone say something so raw and heartfelt, and it hit him right in the chest. he went speechless, his heart hammered in his chest. but then, his expression softened, and he pulled you even closer against him.

"I feel the same way, darlin'," he muttered. "can't imagine not havin' you in my life anymore."

and you just smiled, because in your world, words weren't required to translate a soul. and logan wanted more than anything to be part of it, so he stayed silent and held you tightly against him, his fingers gently tracing small patterns on your back. the storm continued to rage around the both of you, but it felt right: being in his arms felt right.

logan honestly had no idea if what you just said meant that you two were an official thing but he couldn't bring himself to care over such a foolish detail. as long as he could hold you as much as he wanted, he was a happy man.

[xoluvx]

lunch; b.eilish .˚₊✩ part five ✩₊˚.

i don't wanna break it, just want it to bend

part four

The warm water felt heavenly on your skin. The thought of her touching you, tasting you, teasing you clung to you like algae on an abandoned ship. You wanted to wash it all away. Scrub it off of your skin, out of your brain. It was stupid. You’d been stupid to agree to this. Now you couldn’t stop thinking of her and you missed her even though she was only a few feet away.

And it was because of all this that her words hit you hard.

The corners of your eyes were pooling with tears, masked by the water dripping from the shower head. Your chest felt tight. The emotions were caught in your throat and it hurt. It hurt so much.

You scrubbed your thighs harder letting the tears stream down your face, hot on your cheeks. Unable to control your sobs, you dropped to the floor crouching and holding your knees, burying your face in the nest you’d created as the water hit your back. It felt like you were drowning in the shallow end. Drowning in your sorrow.

But you’d allow yourself this only once. One time to let it out before erasing it from your brain and moving on. It was just a blip.

There was nothing. Absolutely nothing she could do to change your mind.

“I worked on that song,” she said when you walked into the room, your shirt clung to your back clumped by your poorly dried skin, your shorts barely visible under the oversized shirt.

“Yeah?” You asked trying to feign happiness.

“That’s why I came. I wanted to show you,” she smiled sitting up on the bed tapping the spot next to her. You couldn’t look at your bed the same way. Not when she’d made you cum twice in the span of a few minutes. Not when you’d willingly touched yourself to the thought of her, violating all sorts of rules in the contract.

“Come,” she said patting the spot again. The word was triggering. Yeah, you wanted to come. Fuck, you were so weak. Did crying in the shower mean nothing?

You inhaled pushing aside your inner battle and sat next to her as she scrolled through her files.

“It’s just a draft,” she said playing the file.

I've said it all before, but I'll say it again. I'm interested in more than just being your friend

You could humming in the recording. Her voice humming. It wasn't completely audible, but you could picture her tapping her hand on her knee as she let the melody flow.

Don't wanna break, just want to bend

Then she squealed into the mic and the voice recording ended abruptly.

"I'm still struggling with the exact lyrics. I think I'm keeping the first part. Don't know about the end-" she was rambling scrolling through her phone. The files flooded the screen. She was completely oblivious to your unresponsiveness. You stared at the screen, not looking at anything in particular. Your hands cupped your thighs. Then she locked her phone and turned to you, snapping you out of your trance.

"What did you think?" her voice was almost a whisper. She tugged at her shirt, pulling it down nervously. Tossing her hair to the side leaning into you instructively waiting for your answer. Her eyes searched your face, lingering on your lips for a second too long.

"It's good," you nodded giving her a small smile. Good? Just good? Your best friend was figuring out her sexuality and it was just 'good'?

But the lyrics were rushing through your brain like an endless figure eight. Was she interested in more than just being your friend? Or is that what just made sense for the song? Was there someone else she was thinking of? That annoying ache in your chest was back.

You dug your fingernails in the palm of your hand trying to push it all aside. Bury it as deep as you could.

"I think I might need a little more help," she cleared her throat, body scooting closer. The proximity of her body made your own fill with heat. Her hand touched your thigh and you tensed.

"Are you okay?" she asked searching your face. You were staring off into space again. You weren't breathing. Air was nonexistent. No air in your lungs, no oxygen in your veins. You felt numb.

"Hey," she whispered cupping your face. Blinking, you inhaled and the sudden influx of air caused physical pain. You coughed and clutched your chest getting up from the bed allowing yourself the commodity of distance.

"Woah," she sounded concerned. One leg was folded on the bed, the other planted on the floor as she touched the space where you previously sat leaning her body forward. "Seriously, are you okay?" she asked, confusion laced in her voice.

You nodded wrapping your arms around your body. You felt physically sick. You wanted to crawl out of your skin. You'd started sobbing and hadn't realized it until Billie was scrambling to her feet, wrapping her arms around your body.

She cradled your head with one hand, the other held your back. You were shaking, hot tears streaming down your face. You were distraught, but she was so close and she was holding you and you were allowing it and you didn't care.

You pried your hands free cupping her face and crashing your lips on hers. Billie stood still as she held you, but her lips moved matching the desperation in the kiss. Your fingers dug gently into her cheeks pulling her closer, her hands holding your head. Lips salty from your tears and touching sloppily as your bodies moved towards the bed.

She sat and you straddled her body never breaking contact with her lips. Her hands came down to your hips, gripping like she wasn't ready to let go. Like this was the last time you were going to kiss her and she wasn't ready for the end.

You pulled away breathing heavily, hands pulling at your shirt. She helped you removed it hastily and inhaled deeply when she saw you weren't wearing something underneath. She looked at your tear-struck face. Eyes red, lips pouting. Her fingers caressing your cheek, sticky as the tears dried. Then she cupped the back of your neck and brought you down for another kiss. Equally as hot, but more desperate. More hungry.

"Fuck me," you breathed against her mouth, your hips moving wanting to feel something that wasn't hurt or pain. Wanting to forget it all as if she wasn't the reason you'd broken down in the first place. You wanted to use her; to make it feel not personal.

Billie swallowed your words, hand traveling between your bodies, disappearing between your thighs. She cupped your pussy, hand pressed firmly on your core. You ground your hips, moving on her palm with urgency. Billie watched as you tossed your head back. She watched the way your throat moved as you gasped for air.

Gaining some confidence, she moved her hand pushing your shorts to the side. She felt your raw flesh on her fingertips and something lit within her. Without warning she pushed her fingers in your pussy, two at first and then three as you bounced on her digits holding her shoulders. She was amazed by your certainty. By your ability to hold yourself together as she barely held on by a single thread. Just like you were certain you loved girls before you knew what love was. Something she was still struggling with.

"Oh my god, Billie" you moaned fucking yourself on her fingers. The sounds coming out of your mouth were pornographic. She almost had a hard time deciphering if they were real. But when you held the back of her neck, forcing your eyes to meet. She knew. She knew they were real and raw.

You bit your bottom lip, whimpering as your eyes sent signals. Right there, right there. Harder. Please. They spoke volumes as she pushed another finger in. She was four fingers deep and you were clenching around her so gloriously. She was going to make you cum. Again.

"Fuck yes, baby" you hummed tossing your head back as you slurred your words. Billie's fingers faltered. Did you-

Did you just call her baby?

Her hips raised instinctively causing her fingers to abruptly push deeper. You bit your lip, legs shaking. She wanted to hear it again. She wanted you to chant it, to whisper it in her ear. To stuff her mouth with it. She moved her hand from your hip where she'd held you in place and to your jaw capturing your lips in a desperate battle. Tongues were wet, lips were messy.

You couldn't process her new found confidence and self-assurance. The way she moved her wrist burying deeper and deeper, pushing on your g spot when she heard the shift in moans. High pitched and yearning. She knew she had you wrapped around her fingers. Literally.

"Baby," your voice was whiny and hot against her ear as you clung to her shoulders, head falling in the nook of her neck. You were lost in pleasure. Blinded by lust. Shattered by disappointment, but put a bandaid on it and you'd survive. If only to live long enough to reach the third orgasm of the night.

"Cum for me," Billie's voice was hoarse. She felt your walls clenching around her fingers.

"Please," she begged and you moaned uncontrollably, tears fogging your vision, lip tucked under your teeth stifling your cries. You shuddered as she held your body, fingers still deep in your pussy. Your bodies remained linked for a couple of minutes, lips pressed on your cheek. Until you were raising yourself, fingers slowly gliding out of your pussy.

Your body fell on the bed, chest rising and falling trying to catch your breath.

When the air settled, you finally spoke.

"I'm sorry," you whispered. Your voice weak. God, you were pathetic. Apologizing when she was the reason-

"Don't," she replied laying next to you, hand resting on your neck feeling your pulse. It was rapid. Active under her fingertips. Her thumb ran along your skin and under your jaw as she stared at your lips.

Pulling her face forward, thumb caressing the corner of your mouth, she kissed you purely. Pure and soft and sweet. So sweet, the sugar was going to your head as you lids fluttered and your mouth opened inviting her tongue. They tussled for a moment, her body pressing on yours, leg wrapping around your thigh urging you to turn to her. To hold her the same way. To kiss her just as tenderly and eagerly.

You held her face pushing your body close, limbs tangled, hands getting lost in hair. You were breathing her air she held the back of your neck. Lips moving so sloppy on yours, eyelids fluttering and lost in the heat of the moment.

Thoughts discarded. Just you and her and your bed and her lips and her hands and your whimpers and your bodies floating through space. Intoxicatingly high off the kiss.

"Stay," you whispered. Permanently. You wanted her to stay forever. Just you and her and your bed forever. But for now, just the night would do.

"I will," Billie whispered back, nose clashing, tongues sloppy, hands gripping your back. Her body so close it felt like an extension of yours.

part six

.˚₊✩ masterlist ✩₊˚.

.˚₊✩ taglist ✩₊˚. @rockyourworldcc @be3flow3r @crazyoffher @lulukings92 @iknowhowtobend @ash198458 @delusional-4-fake-people @dandelions4us @jollyreginaldrancher @chrissv4mp

[creepswrites]

MASK OF HATE | Michael x Reader

a long awaited rewrite of my favorite fanfic i've written... i've come far since my first time writing it and i'm so so happy to be able to recreate my pride and joy!! if you want to see the original, here it is! but i'm thrilled to rewrite it and i hope you all like it :)

MICHAEL MYERS X FTM!READER (he/him)

SUMMARY: The jumpsuit he wore made you think that maybe there'd been an accident with a car or something? You weren't sure. It wasn't likely he'd gotten himself out this far with a wound that bad but you couldn't really think straight to work out logistics. A man was injured and he needed help and that's all you could focus on at the moment.

WARNING: graphic depictions of violence & injuries

NEXT

The smell of wet earth enveloped you as you made your way back home. The earlier afternoon rain had let up long enough for you to walk home from work, a long day spent at the farmers market and plant nursery. It was rewarding work and one of the few jobs you'd actually wanted to be hired at. Your family had moved here a few years ago and you'd fallen in love with the town instantly. You and your father lived on the edge of town, more in the woods than the city itself, but not too far that you had to go out of your way to go to work. Even after you graduated, you still hadn't moved out. Why would you? You helped pay rent, shopped for groceries, and could tend to your garden.

It was, as far as you were concerned, the perfect location. A lovely little house surrounded by trees and bushes of flowers, overgrown with vines, and a stepping stone path that led to the front door. The house itself was covered in a dark brick with the inside a beautiful white with dark wooden floors that smelt of books and fresh fruits and vegetables. And sometimes the smell of rain leaked in when you left the windows open.

So no, you had no intention of moving.

Today was one of those days where you'd get the house to yourself. As the current chief of police, your dad was known for working late nights and leaving you to your own devices for a few days. With Halloween coming up, the police were on edge. Rumors were circling in the station that Michael had escaped again but couldn't confirm yet. They were avoiding telling the public until they were sure.

You always enjoyed walking home more than you enjoyed driving. It gave you a chance to think while enjoying music in your headphones, hopping along to the beat. You were weighing your options for dinner in your mind as you got closer to home when you felt a sense of wrongness wash over you. When your song came to an end, you lowered your headphones to hang around your neck as you scanned the nearby area with scrutiny.

The smell of iron reached you in a soft breeze that brushed your clothes and skin. Coyotes weren't unheard of but you didn't exactly have a way to defend yourself if they got any closer. Not to mention there was the chance your cat had gotten out.

You picked up the pace, grimacing when the smell grew stronger and stronger. Had your head not been on a swivel, you would have missed the way the bushes shook. You froze, swallowing hard as a man stumbled out of the treeline and onto the paved street towards you. He was tall, dressed in a dark blue jumpsuit and a white Halloween mask that rang a bell in the dark recesses of your mind. But you were too prioritized by the gunshot wound in his side that bled copiously, staining the jumpsuit in dark blotches.

"Are you okay?" You gasped, watching the man stumble for balance. He just made a grunting sound so you rushed forward to catch him by the shoulders. "Oh fuck, okay, uh, I might have a first aid kit at home. It's not far, c'mon." You said, trying not to panic. God knows how this dude was even standing with how much blood he'd already lost. But you slung his arm around your shoulders to practically drag him along. He was silent, which unsettled you slightly, but you didn't have the time to be unsettled. This man was possibly dying and that was far more important to you.

Did you need to talk to him to keep him awake? You were worried that if he did collapse on you, you wouldn't be able to move him. "How'd you even get an injury like that?" You tried, jostling him a little. The size difference was glaringly apparent like this but you did your best to move him. "You're lucky I live near here. Don't want to imagine you bleeding to death out here in the woods alone."

The jumpsuit he wore made you think that maybe there'd been an accident with a car or something? You weren't sure. It wasn't likely he'd gotten himself out this far with a wound that bad but you couldn't really think straight to work out logistics. A man was injured and he needed help and that's all you could focus on at the moment.

The walk home felt like hours but you finally pulled him up to the back door, kicked the rickety old screen door open with your foot, and practically dropped the man on the floor against the counters. No way were you carrying him up the stairs, especially not when he could track blood all over the carpet. You threw your bags aside and ran upstairs to the bathroom, hurrying past your cat Mayhem who cried in hunger. "Later." You said quietly as you began rifling through the cabinet under the sink. "I should clean this out later."

First aid kit in hand, you tore down the stairs again and came to a stop in the awning of the kitchen. The man was slumped over where you'd left him and you took the brief moment to get a better look at him. Dirty, brown work boots that were covered in grass stains and wet mud had left a small trail of dirt alongside the blood drops. The jumpsuit was mostly clean except for what looked like oil stains and the blood on his side. As you approached him, you noticed blood staining his sleeves in streaks too. Odd. You made a mental note to check his arms when you were done.

You knelt down in front of him, close enough that you could hear his frantic breathing. Like he was attempting to stay awake. "Can you tell me what happened?" You asked softly, clicking open the first aid kit and reaching for the zipper of his jumpsuit. When he flinched away, you froze. "I'll need to unzip you in order to take care of your wound."

He stared at you. Or you assumed he did. The black voids of the eyeholes left much to be desired.

"Just give me a nod." You sighed.

A moment passed but he finally nodded. A small little motion that you would've missed if you hadn't been looking. You gave him a little smile and unzipped the jumpsuit to his waist, careful to avoid brushing against the wound as much as possible. The black tank top underneath had ridden up slightly which made your cheeks warm. Stuffing that down, you helped him carefully shrug his sleeves down so you could better see the damage.

It was hard to see what had happened with how much blood covered his skin. So you reached into the kit, using one of the little sanitizing wipes on your hands before grabbing the disposable gloves. "Okay, uh, I'm not exactly a doctor so just let me know if the pain is too much, okay?" You gave him a nervous smile before hiking the tank top up more around his chest to let you wipe down the skin with a clean wet wipe.

The amount of blood was almost ridiculous. But you were eventually able to make out what was undeniably a gunshot wound. "Who the hell shot at you?" You mumbled more to yourself than to him. But he still gave you a tilt of his head as though answering. "At least the bullet went all the way through," You sighed, looking between him and your supplies as you tried to figure out what to do. "Okay. Let's… see what I can do."

You didn't know anything about gunshot wounds, much less how to clean them. But you'd helped patch your dad up when he stuck himself with a fishing hook so you figured it couldn't be that much more difficult. Anything was better than letting it get infected. "Sorry," you said softly before giving his hand a squeeze, "This is gonna suck."

And you poured the hydrogen peroxide on both ends of the wound, wincing at the pained grunt he let out. You kept apologizing as you fumbled around for the needle and thread, also dousing that in the peroxide before you tried to stitch him up. Sewing had never been a skill of yours but it was the best you could offer him. At least until you could get him to a hospital. You pressed gauze at either end of the wound before wrapping him tightly in bandages. "I think the wound is supposed to drain? I think I remember hearing stuff about that. We'll have to keep an eye on it to make sure it doesn't get infected." You tried to give him a reassuring smile and sat back to view your handiwork. It was probably sloppy, yeah, but at least it was cleaned and covered.

It could've been much worse.

"Can you pass me one of the wipes?" You asked, holding up your bloodstained hands and giving him a toothy grin. "I don't wanna stain everything with blood."

He offered you a blank stare before reaching slowly into the kit and handing you one of the little packages. You tore it open and got to scrubbing. "I'd give you a sucker for being a good patient if I had any. Would you take dinner and a shower instead?" You scooted back to clean up more, letting him stand on shaking legs. "My dad shouldn't be back till late. But he should be able to drive you to a hospital once I explain-"

At that, he shook his head violently no. "No, what?" You paused, brow furrowing. "No hospital?" He gave you a nod. "I'm not exactly a doctor. Your injury probably needs more than my below average sewing skills and half a bottle of peroxide." But still, he shook his head. "Fine. Okay. No hospital." You sighed loudly, giving him a quick once-over. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

He tried to pull away but you finally saw it: a spot on his opposite shoulder where he'd been just grazed by a bullet. More a flesh wound than anything, but you'd missed it in your stitching him up. "Alright, c'mere mister," your tone was light as you raided the kit for more gauze and bandages. "Got anything else you're hiding from me?" You gave him a playful smile as you wrapped and cleaned his wound. "It doesn't look too bad. I'm way more worried about the gunshot wound." You trailed off. "I wasn't kidding about dinner and a shower though. My dad's got clothes I bet could fit you. Though the pants may be a bit short." He gave you a calculating look as you shrugged. "At least until I get your jumpsuit washed."

The two of you just stared at each other for a while. His head tilted slowly in confusion and you couldn't help but snort. "What, you think I'll just patch you up and throw you out? Not a chance. C'mon," you took his hand and led him towards the stairs. Mayhem had ventured downstairs and began to sniff you both over, hissing at your guest despite your soft scolding.

Once inside the bathroom, you tossed the first aid kit back in as the man took a look around the small space. White tiled floors and faint, floral wallpaper framed a huge mirror, spanning the distance of the smooth countertops. You pride yourself on keeping the bathroom clean, so you only winced slightly at the dirt on the work boots that left a small trail of dirt behind. "I'll get you some clothes if you want to get undressed. I don't mind washing your clothes for you." You gave him a smile, sidestepping him to slip back out into the hall. "A shower might help you feel better. Just try to avoid getting your bandages too wet."

You left him in the bathroom and slipped down the hallway to your dad's room. A rifling through his dresser earned you some plain sweatpants and an old, black shirt you knew he wouldn't miss. Worst case scenario, your guest bled all over the shirt and you'd have to throw it out.

Heading back towards the bathroom, a realization came to you. "Hey, I'm sorry, I don't think I introduced mys-" You froze in the doorway, words dying on your lips. The man had his back to you and had shrugged the jumpsuit off the rest of the way, his boots laying near the doorway by your feet and the blue material like a puddle around his ankles. His shoulders were broad and you could make out tiny scars that littered his forearms and shoulders. His mask had remained but that wasn't what surprised you.

He didn't have underwear on.

Your face felt like it was on fire as you slammed fresh clothes down on the counter, pointedly not looking at him. "Alright, here's your clothes, bye!" It felt like your words slurred together as you slammed the door behind you, leaning against it with an embarrassed sigh.

Once you heard the water turn on, you went downstairs to clean up the kitchen floor, grateful the blood hadn't dried too much yet.

Mayhem, having decided you'd spent long enough fussing over your guest, began to complain and shout for his dinner. "Alright, you needy thing, c'mere." You scooped him up and pressed a kiss to his fuzzy head. "Let's get you fed and then see about feeding our guest, yeah?"

Mayhem meowed, as though enthused only about the coming tuna.

The man took his time showering but you didn't really mind. He certainly needed it. Plus, you could empathize there - showers always made you feel much better too. In the meantime, you'd snuck back upstairs to grab his clothes and toss them into the washing machine. When you'd gotten a good look at his clothes, you recognized the auto mechanic company logo on the jumpsuit. "L. Smith?" You'd wondered aloud, frowning to yourself. "Pretty sure I'd tutored his kids when I was a junior…" But he didn't look anything like Lawrence Smith. "Maybe it's just a common name," you had mumbled. Something about this whole situation felt off but you couldn't exactly place why.

You shook your head slightly and sighed, trying to dismiss a nagging feeling you had in the back of your mind. Sparing a glance down at Mayhem, who brushed against your leg insistently, you frowned. "You don't think this is Michael Myers, right?"

Big yellow eyes blinked up at you and you sighed, chewing on your lower lip. Not much about the Myers case was made public beyond his crimes and his mugshot. Your dad had refused to divulge anything to you about the case and you'd only managed a quick peek at crime scene photos. Nothing about the way the man had been dressed or anything like that. Besides, it had been so long since that night that any details you could have seen have been lost to time.

"Impossible." You decided with a shaking sigh as you opened the can of tuna, not even believing your own words despite their conviction. "There's simply no way."

The sound of thunder outside was a welcome distraction from your thoughts. The rain had always been peaceful to you, the smell of wet earth and the chill breeze from the window had you relaxing. You smiled, whistling for Mayhem to come get his dinner and slipped past your hungry cat into the kitchen once again.

Cutting the vegetables and boiling pasta was peaceful, a wonderfully monotonous task you could just get lost in with the soft white noise of the rain. You would have missed the sounds of the shower turning off if you'd been any more zoned out. You had just taken the tomatoes out to cut them up when you heard heavy footsteps behind you.

You glanced over your shoulder and took him in. The sweatpants had stopped just above his ankles, which you had expected. What you hadn't expected was the way his broad chest filled out the shirt, struggling to hug around his biceps. You turned back around to hide your swooning, biting your lip hard to keep yourself from smiling like a fool. He'd put the mask back on but you couldn't even bother to give it a thought.

Swallowing, you cleared your throat. "Are the bandages alright?" You asked, turning your attention back to the tomatoes. He didn't say anything but, then again, you hadn't really expected him to. "Pasta's boiling right now so dinner should be ready in a few minutes if you want to sit down." You gestured to the nearby dining room table with only a few chairs pulled up. But you didn't hear him move. The feeling of eyes on the back of your neck made you tense for a moment but you brushed it off. If he needed something, he'd let you know, right?

As you reached for a knife, his hand shot out and covered yours. You weren't even aware he'd gotten that close and you jumped in surprise. The eyeholes of the mask bore into you as you turned to look at him once again. "Do you… want to help?"

He just tilted his head, as though bewildered by your offer.

You move your hand aside to let him grab the knife, stepping to the side to give him room at the cutting board. "You just have to make them into small chunks. Try and get them around the same size, I'll get the garlic going." You hummed, your fingertips barely grazing the extra knife before he grabbed your wrist tight, jerking your hand back. A surprised yelp left you as you stared wide-eyed up at him, noticing the way he white knuckled his own knife.

Something about this was very wrong.

Swallowing back your terror, you held eye contact with him, the two of you locked in a standstill. The room was silent except for his heavy breathing, barely audible over the pounding storm outside. Soft bluish grey light cast shadows on his face, making the eyes of the mask seem like bottomless pits. Everything felt frozen in time as the two of you stared at each other.

You were the one who broke the tension, reaching over with your free hand to uncurl his fingers from your wrist as casually as you could. Anxiety pounded through you when you heard his breathing hitch. "Don't worry," you gave him a weak smile once you were freed, "I have every confidence in you." You said, giving a weak gesture to the tomatoes laying on the cutting board. You slowly moved towards the stove to set about roasting the garlic cloves, trying to appear as calm as possible while he continued to stare you down.

You only let your shoulders drop when you heard him start slicing.

Making the rest of dinner didn't take long, especially with your guest's help. He seemed unwilling to leave you alone now, hovering around you as you finished cooking and plating dinner - pasta with garlic sauce and dried tomatoes - and only retreated to the living room when you'd reassured that you were right behind him. He took a seat on the couch and you caught him staring at Mayhem comfortably sprawled out on his favorite chair.

"His name is Mayhem," you told him as you sat beside him, setting two water glasses down before digging in. "He won't bug you, he knows he's not allowed on the couch."

The man's head turned slowly to look at you, letting you get a brief sight of one of his eyes: a blue-green color that looked almost hazel in the darkness of the mask. You held in a soft gasp and turned away, trying to push the idea that the man was pretty from your mind. You hadn't even seen his face for crying out loud! Much less gotten his name.

Instead, you just clicked the television on. "Anything in particular you wanna see?" You asked around a mouthful of food. "We've got movies too but I dunno if you like horror." You hummed, setting your plate down briefly to shuffle over to the drawers in the tv stand, leafing through VHS tapes. "It's almost Halloween though," you smirked, "But, judging by your mask, you knew that."

His eyes were boring holes into you again but you just chuckled to yourself. While you pride yourself on being good at reading body language, his ramrod straight posture and silent staring was like gazing at a white canvas. But maybe that's one of the reasons you liked him so much: he wasn't complicated to understand, when he needed to be heard.

You pulled out a particular VHS and flashed it to him. "Do you like cartoons?" You asked, dangling 'It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown' for him to see.

He nodded then - so clear and obvious that you didn't waste any time popping the tape in and sitting back down alongside him. You kept your eyes glued to the screen as you ate, hoping that would be enough privacy for him to comfortably eat. He'd have to give you his name later, at the very least, but you felt the urge to give him some semblance of privacy as he ate. So you kept your eyes off him and the two of you ate in amicable silence, both your attentions rapt on the little cartoon. He ate like he was starving for it and practically chugged the glass of water when he was done, which made your heart hurt a little.

How long had this guy gone without eating or drinking anything?

"There's more in the pot if you want. Help yourself." You said softly, bumping his knee gently with yours to get his attention. He'd tensed up slightly at the contact and you momentarily scolded yourself for that. He was clearly not good with touch, but it had just felt natural to do for him.

But he didn't seem to hold it against you and just stood up, retreating into the kitchen with his plate. You watched him with a slight smile on your face. He was, no doubt, intriguing. His mysteries had you utterly fascinated and there was so much you wanted to ask. But a part of you feared the answers, paranoid your suspicions would be proven correct.

He would have killed you if that were the case, right?

The two of you continued watching movies once you'd learnt he hadn't, in fact, seen most horror films. "Well obviously I'm going to show you 'The Thing,'" you'd said as Charlie Brown came to an end. "It's one of my favorites, I think you'll like it." His staring didn't bother you anymore so you took his silence as agreement when the movie began playing. The night continued like that, the two of you watching movies together. Horror films seemed to intrigue him and you swore he jumped a little at some of the visceral body horror moments. But the two of you had cozied up just a little. He'd finally sunken back into the couch and had tolerated you scooting closer to him.

You were halfway through Frankenstein when you heard the phone ring in the kitchen. "Be right back," you whispered to him, feeling his eyes on you as you walked away. A quick glance at the clock revealed it was nearly midnight and you frowned. Your dad should've been home by now and your guest didn't seem in any hurry to go home. Didn't he have somewhere to go?

Regardless, you stepped into the kitchen on socked feet and plucked the phone off the receiver. "Hello?

"Kiddo? Oh thank god you're alright!" Your dads voice sounded monetarily relieved, letting out a sigh as he spoke. "You should've called me after you saw the news." He said, once again becoming frantic. "Lock all the doors, keep Mayhem inside tonight, and-"

"Calm down," you cut him off, "What's going on? I haven't even seen the news, I've been watching movies with-"

Your dad wasted no time cutting you off as well. "Just stay inside, okay? Keep your eyes on the news and just- just stay safe. My pistol is in my room in the bedside table if you need it."

A sinking dread began to settle in the pit of your stomach as you twirled the phone cord. "Just tell me what's going on!" You became equally frantic, running your hand through your hair in frustration.

He was silent for a moment before sighing. "Look, I'm not supposed to tell you. This is strictly police business. But the last thing I want is you digging into this yourself-"

"That was one time-!" You protested.

But he ignored you. "There's a killer on the loose." His words were like a gunshot to your chest. "We nearly caught him this afternoon but he managed to escape. We're- we're not sure where he'd gotten off to so I want you to stay inside and call me if you hear or- or see anything strange."

A lapse of silence passed and you can tell your dad was about to hang up but you quickly squeaked out. "What's his name?"

"I'm not supposed to tell you." His voice had a finality to it. He didn't plan on telling you.

You knew how to play him though. You faked a sniffle and a sob. "Dad, please, I- I need to know what I'm up against! W-what if he gets inside?"

Despite his voice being barely a whisper, it was deafening to you. "Michael Myers."

Instantly, you sobered up. Your fears were confirmed and you felt your blood run cold. Michael Myers was sitting in your living room in your dads clothes after you'd had dinner together. He'd been fascinated by Charlie Brown and had jumped a little at the chest defibrillation scene in The Thing. The Boogeyman of Haddonfield had helped you cut tomatoes and let you tend to his wounds.

You were still alive. As terrifying as this revelation was, you were curious why he hadn't killed you. You didn't know Michael Myers to be very forgiving or benevolent…

Wrapping up the call with your dad, you practically slammed the phone back into the receiver, your back still to the living room. You steadied your resolve and forced your hands to still when you turned back around. You nearly slammed into him when you did. He'd been eavesdropping and the idea that his mercifulness would end made you talk before he could move. "Seems we're locked in tonight." You managed a smile and a shrug. "Dad says it's too dangerous to go out tonight so at least it'll just be us two. If you want, I can set you up on the couch to sleep when you're ready."

He continued to stare at you and you swore he almost seemed…surprised.

You sidestepped him to head back into the living room and he let you, though he was hot on your heels. "Means you and I get more movie time though." Grinning up at him, you sat back down with a soft "oomf" and looked up at him expectantly. If you just acted like everything was fine, maybe he wouldn't kill you?

It seemed as good an idea as any.

Eventually he rejoined you on the couch after staring at you for a few good minutes.

You knew. And you had a feeling he knew that you knew. But what could you even do? It wasn't like you stood a chance against him if he decided to attack you. In fact, a part of you felt almost guilty for withholding your newfound information from him. He was literally a serial killer and you didn't want to make him think you were against him.

Which bewildered you. Why would you feel bad? You knew, logically, you should call your dad back and tell him Michael was here and let him and the rest of the force come try and catch Michael before he ran you through with a knife.

He'd extended trust to you though. You recognized that. You didn't want to betray that, especially since you didn't know who the last person he trusted could have been.

As the movie came to an end, you decided to take a risk. "Want me to make popcorn, Michael?" You kept your tone light and casual as you stood and stretched.

You didn't even get two steps in before he was up, grabbing your wrist tight and spinning you to face him. You kept your smile light and tilted your head the way he liked doing. "I think I have M&Ms if you want me to mix those in too." He continued to stare and you finally sighed. "I already knew. I, uh, had my suspicions before we made dinner. But dad called and confirmed it, basically." His grip tightened but you brushed it off. "I'm not going to tell anyone." You finally admitted.

His posture remained rigid, like he expected a fight. You felt your heart break a little. Has he ever had anyone be kind to him ever since that night? "Do you know about doctor-patient confidentiality?" His blank stare was an answer in itself. "When a doctor treats a patient, that patient has the right to keep their information private. Including their name." You placed your free hand atop his in what you hoped was a comforting gesture. "So, since you're technically my patient, I don't have to tell anyone anything." He still seemed confused and you just let out a soft sigh. "I'm not gonna rat on you, is what I'm saying."

He seemed to consider this before giving you a slow nod.

A part of you was relieved. A fair trade, you thought as you went into the kitchen to make popcorn. You patched him up and fed him and, in exchange, he didn't kill you.

The two of you wound up watching movies late into the night, with you adding soft commentary as you munched on popcorn and M&Ms. By 2AM you were fading, your head lolling to the side and bumping against Michael's shoulder in your attempts to fight off sleep. He was warm and, despite knowing who he was, you felt safe.

So you'd nodded off.

The next time you opened your eyes, you were being shaken awake by your father. "Get up," he whisper-yelled as he turned off the tv, a quick flash of the movie menu disappearing as soon as you saw it. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

You hummed, yawning and rubbing your eyes. "Early." A glance at the clock confirmed it was nearly 6AM. "Sorry, guess I was up watchin' movies." You sat up and looked around a little before your sleep-addled brain immediately recalled that Michael Myers had been sitting on your couch last night and you looked around.

As your dad herded you upstairs and past the kitchen, you noticed Michael's boots were gone. The dishes had been left atop the table but yours had been placed in the sink as though to hide the fact there had been two people here. Once of the knives from the block was missing too, but that didn't surprise you.

If your dad's weary expression was anything to go by, Michael had escaped before he'd gotten home. "'m headin' to bed," he grumbled, "You should too." He said before shuffling into his bedroom, closing the door with more force than intended. You nodded to empty air before retreating into your bedroom, noticing Mayhem lazily dozing on top of your messy bedsheets.

Your bedroom was dim and cool, the morning light just starting to shift the pitch black sky into a dark tealish blue color. Raindrops still covered the window, indicative of the storm that must be still going. You frowned and went to close your curtains to avoid being blinded by the sun once it rose but you paused just before you could yank the fabric closed.

There, across the street, only visible thanks to the streetlight he stood under, you could see Michael Myers staring up at you.

Dumbfounded, you smiled and gave him a little wave, swaying on your feet as you tried not to swoon. You wanted to believe he wouldn't hurt you, seeing as he had ample opportunity to do so and had instead laid you gently down on the couch to sleep when he'd decided to leave. But the realistic part of your brain reminded you, as you closed your blackout curtains, that it should be more concerning that you'd become a fixation of his.

You'd heard of Laurie Strode and how she was assumedly his previous fixation, seeing as he'd stalked her for a while before deciding to take action against her friends. She'd been terrified of him for years and continued to lock herself in her house for the past two years to protect herself against him. Despite her fear of him, she'd yet to move out of Haddonfield.

There wasn't any point in trying to figure her out though. She was of no help to you. You couldn't tell anyone about what was going on or risk yourself or Michael.

You were far too tired to think about any of that for now and just flopped down into bed, freezing when your hands brushed an unfamiliar texture. After scrambling around under your stomach, you held up Michael's tank top. He must have left it for you when he'd gone to change into his jumpsuit. You felt your face heat up at the implications of him leaving his shirt for you, opting instead to shove it under your pillow with your cheeks burning.

The memories of him in the tshirt filled your head as you fell back asleep.

Crunching dry, brittle leaves beneath your boots, you made your way into town for work. You always liked the walk, especially with how beautiful Haddonfield got in the fall. A gorgeous watercolor painting of oranges, browns, and reds, touches of yellow and green giving pops of color. Despite the tragedies that had happened two years ago, Halloween decorations were still up in full swing, the town determined to celebrate no matter what. There was even a small festival at the farm nearby, complete with haunted houses, hayrides, and pumpkin patches. Halloween spirit was everywhere and you loved it. It'd always been your favorite holiday, even before a certain man fell into your life.

As you approached the plant nursery you worked at, you mulled that over. The police hadn't caught Michael yet but were working round the clock. And although you hadn't seen him in person since he'd stayed over a few days ago, you'd seen glimpses of him. Enough to know he was definitely stalking you. While you should logically feel afraid, you instead felt… oddly comforted.

You stopped beating yourself up over why. You knew why. Michael Myers was the most dangerous person alive and he was looking out for you, in a way. You felt safe with him watching you. So you played the game and pretended not to see him. It was easier to play along anyways and, as far as you knew, he hadn't killed anyone since he found you. No one your dad talked about at least.

So you'd been spending more time in town or out in the woods, hoping that entertaining him would keep him from killing. At least, you hoped so.

It didn't help that you still found yourself fascinated by him.

You'd stopped beating yourself up for that too. Most people you knew were predictable, bland, or boring. They had routines and patterns that were easy to predict. But Michael wasn't like that. You never knew what he was thinking or how he'd behave. He was interesting, unique, and unpredictable.

You liked that. Maybe that was sick or twisted of you, but it was true.

"Helloooo?" Your co-worker's soft voice pulls you from your thoughts. "Did those blackberries do something to you?" Kalei snorted, nudging you gently. "You've been staring at them for, like, ten minutes now."

You responded with a yawn, rubbing your eyes. Despite having only been at work for a few hours, you were ready for it to be over. "Sorry, jus' haven't been sleepin' well." You slurred as you tried to give her a smile.

"Bad dreams?" Kalei asked, frowning slightly as she set her own blackberry plant aside. Working at the plant nursery had been your idea, more interested in working with plants than people. But Kalei was a good friend and always looked out for you. It was nice to have company while taking care of the plants.

You chewed on your fingernail and gave her a little shrug. "Just been… thinking about a guy, I guess."

They let out a shocked gasp. "A GUY?!" Kalei squealed, ignoring your desperate attempts to shush them. "Tell me everything RIGHT NOW, oh my god!" 

You blushed, trying to get them to quiet down, flustered at the idea of Michael listening in. "It's not anything serious! Just, um, met this guy and he's… interesting. I like him." You blushed at the childishness of your own words, focusing on your plants to avoid meeting Kalei's eyes.

They gave you a nod. "Well, as your workplace bestie, I am obligated to give him The Talk."

You chose to not mention the fact there were only five total employees counting you both. "Kay, it's Illinois. I doubt he'd be interested in me, available or not." Which wasn't untrue. Even if Michael was interested in you, it likely wasn't anything beyond obsession. At least the obsession went both ways, you thought to yourself with a private smile.

"Well, regardless, I have a duty to fulfill." They beamed at you, hands on their hips. "You're a cute guy and, if I didn't have a partner, I'd take you out sometime." They ignored your snort and continued. "If this guy screws you over, I'll kick his ass for you."

If only they knew, you chuckled to yourself as you left Kalei to attend to a customer. Michael wasn't exactly great "bring-home-to-the-parents" boyfriend material. Much less introduce to your co-worker. When you'd finished helping the customer, you froze at the sight of movement in the tree line across the road. Standing in the tall grass and brush, you swore you saw Michael standing there…

As far as you were aware, he stayed close by to watch as you finished your shift. You hoped that as long as he was watching you, he wasn't out killing someone. Hopefully. For all you knew, he could be supernatural.

But you'd let him watch you. The whole rest of your shift, the walk home, and as you got in the car to go shopping. While you usually got vegetables and fruits from the plants at your work, you still needed to get normal groceries at the store. So you parked around back to be a little more secluded and went inside.

It was a cute little supermarket, clean linoleum floors and shelves lined with food. You didn't need much but you definitely needed to refill your medkit and find a proper first aid book, just in case. Thankfully, it was relatively empty that day, meaning you had free reign of the aisles to explore and take your time shopping.

You knew Michael wouldn't come in the store but you didn't doubt he was waiting for you outside.

So when you finished loading your grocery bags into the trunk of your car, you didn't feel surprised when you heard footsteps approaching you. Michael was definitely taking a risk being out with you in public but you hadn't exactly spoken to him in a few days and you were itching for the chance.

Turning around, however, you were met face to face with an unfamiliar black ski mask. Definitely not Michael. The stranger grabbed you by the arm before pulling out a knife, his head on a swivel. "G-gimme all your cash! Now!" He hissed, jerking you aggressively.

"I don't have anything on me." You said calmly. Your dad had always prepared you for situations like this so you didn't worry too much, even with the glint of his knife in the corner of your eye.

"D-don't bullshit me! I know you j-just got outta there. G-gimme what you've got and I'll b-be on my way!" He spat at you, pulling you closer to press the knife against your neck.

You caught the faintest of movement in the shadows of the alleyway behind him but you kept your eyes on him to prevent the guy freaking out. "Okay. Let's just calm down," you said, keeping your movements slow as you reached for your hip, pretending to go for your wallet. The guy kept looking around frantically as though expecting something to jump out at him. Police, most likely. But when you saw the white face of a familiar mask over his shoulder, you felt a sense of calm settle over you.

"C-c'mon!" He hurried you, jerking the knife again to threaten slicing your throat.

At that moment, you jerked back as hot blood splashed across your face. Michael had effortlessly slashed the guy's neck open from behind, bright red falling like rain against the concrete below. You closed your eyes as the choked gurgles of the mugger's voice faded to silence and his body hit the ground. It was like you were frozen in place, unable to make your muscles move as you listened to the sounds of Michael killing the man. The vicious stabbing sounds made your skin crawl and you turned away from the scene entirely to check yourself over.

You hadn't gotten blood anywhere besides on your face, which was good. Easier to clean.

This was inevitable, you reminded yourself. That man wanted to hurt you and Michael was doing you a favor. Still, you tried to steady your breathing, bracing on the trunk of your car as he dragged the body away, presumably to hide it.

You heard Michael start to approach you and you let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding. His footsteps could be silent, almost supernaturally quiet, so if he was making an effort to be loud, you knew it was his attempt to make you feel better. To let you know he was coming.

He stood in front of you now, covered in fresh blood and gripping his knife tightly. You were thankful for the setting sun that cast dark shadows over you two, obscuring the bloodsoaked Michael from view on the streets. You noticed the body slumped against the wall a little ways away and you swallowed back bile. "T-thanks." Your voice was soft and you cleared your throat. "For saving me."

It was only an assumption that he'd killed that guy to protect you. He didn't have to. He could have just let you die or at least be robbed. You were confident in that assumption though. He wouldn't risk your game ending so soon. 

On some level, he wanted you alive.

The blood on your face was beginning to dry uncomfortably and you desperately wanted to go home. You gestured to your car and gave Michael a tilt of your head. "You coming?" He seemed to weigh his options in his head before casually making his way for the passenger seat after a brief deliberation. "What's the plan if we're caught?" You asked him with a raised eyebrow and climbed into your own seat.

Turns out, once the cops got wind of the body, they were very easy to avoid. Predictable, you thought as you gripped your steering wheel tighter, careful to not draw attention to your car as you drove through the windy roads that led to your house.

You got Michael inside, shoving the grocery bags onto the kitchen counter as Mayhem came around the corner, meowing for attention and approaching Michael to give him a curious sniff.

It was then that you remembered stories your father would tell you about how Michael would kill animals for fun as a boy. How he'd leave the dead bodies of cats and birds in his locker at school to terrify the other kids. You weren't sure how truthful the stories were but you felt a heavy pit of anxiety when Michael looked down to acknowledge Mayhem.

"If you hurt Mayhem, I will turn you in." Your voice was steady despite the way you trembled. His head snapped up to look at you and you could feel the glare behind it. "I mean it. T-this is one thing I'm not bending on. He's my kitty and I won't let you hurt him."

Michael was still for a moment, letting Mayhem rub against his boots and yowl as though expecting the man to feed him. Slowly, ever so slowly, he bent over and let his fingers brush against soft black fur. The motion was gentle, like either you or the cat would lash out should he make a mistake. Mayhem loved the attention, purring and rubbing against his fingers more, which made you smile.

He was usually an anxious cat so seeing him this comfortable with Michael made you smile. You set about making up Mayhem's dinner while Michael tried to navigate petting him. He was shockingly gentle despite clearly never having pet an animal. "Did you have pets as a kid?" You asked as you scraped food into the bowl.

He didn't answer but you didn't really expect him to. His hand was still, just letting Mayhem rub all over it and meow at him. It was endearing, you thought as you set the bowl down and let Mayhem go to town on it. Michael's head tilted curiously as he watched and gently stroked his back once before standing back up.

"I think he likes you," you giggled, scritching the cat behind the ear.

Michael just watched the cat before slowly standing back up and heading back into the living room. You followed him, tugging on his sleeve gently. "Want me to wash your clothes?"

Your words trailed off when you noticed Michael was looking at a photo of you with your dad at your graduation party. A tired sigh left you when the man tilted his head. "I don't… want to talk about that." You mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest. "It's not like it's easy to plan for your own dad's murder." The words were heavy in your mouth and you forced yourself to look away from the photo.

Ever since your mom had died, you knew your dad had been different. She'd died in childbirth with you and all your dad's friends would whisper about how that changed him drastically. He'd always been distant with you, especially as you'd grown up. When you'd hear stories about him before your mom died, he sounded like an entirely different man: happy, enthusiastic about life, and excited to be a father.

But then your mom died and he retreated inward. As though the whole thing was entirely your fault. He didn't want to parent you on his own and therefore you had to grow up taking care of yourself instead. 

"Whatever you have to do," you swallowed, turning away from Michael entirely and your voice hollow, "Just make it as painless as you can."

It wasn't like there was an easy way to ask him to kill your dad painlessly. You tried not to dwell on how easy it would be to let him go. It wasn't exactly like he'd ever been there for you anyways.

"So. Your clothes. I, um, still have your shirt and the sweats you borrowed are clean, if you want to change." You changed the topic quickly, ignoring the way he stared at you. The last thing you possibly wanted was pity from the Boogeyman. "Either way, I'm going to go wash my face before someone sees me."

You went upstairs to the bathroom, leaving Michael to his own devices downstairs. You opened drawers at random until you found the wet wipes you kept stashed for when you wore makeup. Some good hard scrubbing and scented lotion and it's like you were never there, all evidence flushed down the toilet and out of sight. You sighed, staring at yourself in the mirror as the events of the day hit you, leaving you feeling winded and exhausted all at once. You were complacent in a crime now. It wasn't just you hiding Michael from the cops, you'd let him kill a man in front of you.

Trying to argue with yourself that it was self defense was pointless. No use in lying to yourself.

When you opened your eyes, unsure of when you'd closed them, you met Michael's eyes where he stood in the doorway of the bathroom. "Oh, sorry, do you want to shower?" Before you could even move to leave, he unzipped the jumpsuit, leaving you speechless.

You gasped in horror at the state of his chest. The black shirt was gone and left his bandages on display, dirty and stained with reddish-brown blood that mixed with ugly yellow pus from the drainage of the wound. It reeked of infection even a few feet from him. "Michael!" You hurried to him to get a better look, feeling sick for the second time today. "Christ, you should have come to me before it got this bad! With how wet it's been… Take these off and sit down on the edge of the tub. God, this looks awful."

Michael sat, watching you with amusement. At least you assumed it was amusement. Though you couldn't find anything funny about this. "I should have stitched you," you mumbled as you reached for your first aid kit and began sterilizing a pair of scissors, "Or at least looked up what to do."

Swallowing back your squeamishness, you cut him free of the bandages, practically retching when you got a better look at his wound. It had somehow gotten worse, a painful red and oozing pus. "Oh my god, Michael." Your voice was barely a whisper. "I'm so sorry."

He tilted his head and you almost wanted to smack him. How he wasn't in any noticeable pain was bewildering to you.

You began to undress him, uncaring of any potential nakedness, and he grabbed your wrists tight when you reached forward to take off his mask. "Michael, this infection could kill you. I need to see if you're running a fever. So either let me touch your forehead or I'm touching your neck." 

He stood quickly, stumbling slightly as he grabbed the bloodstained knife from where he'd apparently set it down on the counter. But you didn't back down. "Be mad all you want, this is really fucking infected and I'm not letting you get worse." You sighed, racking your brain to come up with an idea to placate him. "If I close my eyes, will you let me take your temperature?" 

Slowly, his shoulders fell. Which confused you. You'd seen his mugshots, you knew he wasn't disfigured or anything like that. So his insistence at not being looked at confused you but now was not the time to be worrying about that.

Prettiness aside, you needed to help him.

So you shut your eyes and held out your hand. A minute passed without Michael moving and you briefly worried he'd left the room entirely. Before you could open your eyes, you felt his fingers encircle your wrist and press it to his neck. You felt him swallow and you tried your best to focus on how hot his skin felt and not how this was an incredible show of trust. Goosebumps erupted across your arms as you cupped his neck gently.

His skin was soft and feverish and you felt your heart clench.

"You're definitely running a fever," you sighed. "I'll look for a sewing kit or something to stitch you up but I want you to shower and get all that gross off first. Don't scrub too hard, okay?" Before you could retract your hand, his grip on your wrist tightened. "Are you-?"

He lifted your hand, letting your fingers graze his bare cheek. You felt Michael lean into the touch momentarily and you reacted quickly, holding his face gently. He was burning up so hot you weren't sure how he was even standing in this condition. When was the last time anyone had taken care of him? Or the last time he was even sick?

Judging by his height, he was likely slumped against the bathroom counter. The idea made your heart clench. Despite every instinct in your body telling you to pull away, you ran your hand up the side of his face in a gentle, soothing motion. Your fingers ran through tangled hair, soft and curly, before sliding down behind his ear to rest back on his neck. "You'll be okay," you said softly. "The fever will break and you'll be back on your feet in no time."

Having had enough of being touched, he took you by the shoulders and moved you aside, careful to not let you stumble and fall. You kept your eyes closed when you heard the shower turn on and the curtain shift as he stepped inside. Only then did you open your eyes.

What... was that?

You looked down at your hand like it offended you before shaking your head in bewilderment. He'd never fail to surprise you.

You figured out pretty quickly that that instance of seeking your touch was the extent that Michael wanted you to touch him. He barely tolerated you checking him over for fever symptoms, opting instead to lounge in your bed like he'd been exorcised of a demon.

For the past few days, you'd done your best to keep Michael's presence in your house a secret. With your workaholic dad's late hours, he usually just came back home, ate a frozen dinner, and passed out in his bedroom before waking around 9AM to stumble to work and repeat the process all over again. So, provided Michael kept quiet, there wasn't any worry. You'd taken a few days of sick leave from work to take care of him, citing a head cold. Now you just had to hope that the police would continue their dedicated search even if people weren't dying.

You wondered, as you sat on your bed with a feverish serial killer half naked and asleep beside you, if hoping he recovered soon made you a bad person.

Probably.

But god he was a bitch when he was sick.

He kept the godforsaken mask on, which you had expected. But when his fever rose to 102 you had kind of hoped he'd take it off for the sake of wanting to cool down. He was persistent, you'd give him that.

You were getting the hang of his body language too. It was subtle but you'd begun to notice the slight shifts in his stance or the way his hands would twitch without a knife in them. At first you'd assumed it was just you projecting but you'd grown confident you could understand him now. Being sick definitely made him more expressive too.

Though, right now, you wanted to strangle him. "Michael, it's chicken noodle soup." You sighed, rubbing your temples. Trying to feed him was like dealing with a picky toddler sometimes. "It's chicken, noodles, carrots, and broth. All things I've fed you before." You could feel his glare at you and you were half tempted to get your own knife to speak his language better.

The infection was running its course, which was the only reason you had so much patience with him. His bitchiness was a byproduct of his fever and you had to keep reminding yourself that he probably hadn't been sick before.

That didn’t make you want to clobber him any less.

"If you eat the fucking soup I'll go buy you pumpkin pie when you feel better." You tried, glaring him down. "Because the sooner you eat this, the sooner you'll get better. And then you can go back to slaughtering the town."

He seemed placated by that. You turned your back to him so he could eat and you let out a silent sigh. You knew him well enough to know he liked that soup, he just wanted to be a jackass about it.

Later that afternoon you yet again threatened him with violence when he refused taking medicine. You weren't surprised he wasn't interested, seeing as he grew up in a hospital. But you were outgrowing your patience with him. You did smirk a little when you realized he absolutely wanted to throw you across the room for all but forcing the antibiotics down his throat. But once it was down, you softened. "C'mere, sleep will do you some good."

Michael glared at you but let you sit next to him against the headboard of the bed as he laid down. You'd learnt he was definitely a stomach sleeper and you could tell by his huffing that the heat underneath the mask was beginning to frustrate him. You jerked your head away when he ripped the mask off, throwing it with a growl and face planting onto the pillow.

"It's okay," you said softly, keeping your gaze straight ahead and fighting the urge to look down at him. "You don't feel as feverish today, you should be back on your feet in a day or two." You heard him grumble and you giggled. "Want me to rub your back? Might help you sleep."

He was silent. But he didn't immediately lash out so you kept your movements slow and purposeful. Like approaching an anxious, abused cat. He didn't know touch that wasn't associated with pain and you had to be careful to avoid startling him or overstepping. Your fingers made contact with his back and you slid your palm over his upper back, rubbing in slow, soothing motions.

Maybe it was exhaustion, the fever, or resignation to your touch but you swore you felt him relax.

Michael's skin was tacky to the touch and incredibly warm but that didn't deter you. You hummed a soft lullaby, keeping your movements slow and gentle. He looked painfully human and you were choking on the urge to care for this man. This strange, silent Boogeyman who'd fallen into your lap and sought you for care and food and attention and it made you want to cry.

If it weren't for his murderous hobby, you'd be infatuated with the sleeping man. The slow rise and fall of his chest made something in your own clench painfully as you continued to rub his back. You'd only known each other for a short time and yet you both had extended a lot of trust to each other. Most people met him with hostility or violence but you'd met him with kindness. A kindness he was unfamiliar with and must have been a welcome change. Either that or he just liked your cooking and bedside manner enough not to kill you. You weren't too picky about his motives.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't fond of him regardless.

The sound of the front door opening was like a bucket of ice down your back. You crept from the bed, carefully shutting the door behind you and heading downstairs, meeting your father's tired face. "You're back early."

"I'm only on my lunch break," he sighed as he shrugged his coat off, "Didn't feel like packing one so I figured I'd come check on you." He was giving you a strange look. "Are you okay?"

You watched him go into the kitchen as you loitered on the stairs, watching him through the awning closest to the steps. "Yeah, just been a little under the weather." You feigned a cough and sniffed. "Getting better though."

Your dad hummed as he opened the fridge. "Michael Myers killed a man at the store the other day." He reached in to pull out a sandwich you'd made for yourself at lunch and hadn't gotten around to eating. Trying to feed Michael was a laborious task.

"Really?" You raised your eyebrows, crossing your arms over your chest. "I didn't hear about it in the news."

He watched you with a painfully blank expression. "Correct me if I'm wrong but… I think you were out shopping before you fell ill, am I right?" Your dad took a slow bite of his sandwich, poorly trying to act casual. "The store clerk said a man was following you outside the store."

Fortunately, you were a better actor than your father. "I didn't see anyone."

But, of course, he didn't believe you. He never did. "Son, a man was killed by Michael Myers the day you went out and now you've been hiding away since then." His cop voice grated on your nerves. It felt like he never stopped being a cop, even with you. Every conversation with him felt like navigating a maze to try and hide yourself from him. You hated it.

"The weather has been getting colder and I work outside. It's really not that surprising."

"Have you seen Myers?" He got sick of beating around the bush, his hands on his hips as he leveled you with an unimpressed look. "Is that why you've been hiding out here?"

The word "hiding" made your hackles raise. Like this wasn't the same man who'd told you to lock the doors and windows when he first informed you of Michael. "Nope." Your smile was fake and bitter and you could see the way he flinched. "Hard to miss a man walking around in a Halloween costume." 

"Kid-" He tried to placate you.

But you weren't interested. "I'll be back to work in a day or so, don't worry."

He seemed remorseful now. "If Myers is stalking you, you can talk to me. You know that, right?"

An awkward silence hung in the air. Your dad seemed to deflate and he ate in silence, pretending to not see you. "Have you talked to Laurie Strode yet?" You asked as you picked at a stray string on your sweater sleeve.

He swallowed and shook his head. "We're hesitant to let her know what's going on until we're certain he's still after her. Dr Loomis has been working with us to try and find him as soon as we can." He scratched his chin in thought. "Maybe I should make a statement soon, what with Halloween approaching."

You gave him another acidic smile. "You'll find him, I'm sure. You're very dedicated."

Your dad gave you a helpless look. If you were five years younger, you might have apologized for being so curt with him. But you weren't sixteen and craving your father's approval anymore. You knew that the family charade you both put up was only because you helped around the house. He wasn't home enough to give a shit who lived there anyways.

He didn't even know the killer he was hunting was asleep in your bed, stitched up with your string and your soup in his stomach. You had no intention of telling him, partially out of spite at this point.

You hoped Michael got better soon.

Lucky for you - and unlucky for Haddonfield - Michael was back on his feet a day later. He was still a bit warm but you knew it was fruitless to try and keep him inside any longer. He had to make another appearance in town anyways or else he'd risk you both. If people paid too close to timelines, your sick leave corresponding with his disappearance would be too suspicious.

But his stitches came out easily and his wound had healed decently. "Next time, come back before your bandages get too dirty." You'd smirked at him as you zipped his jumpsuit up. It felt too close to a wife sending her husband off to work for the day and the thought made your face warm.

You managed to get a few days of relative peace, especially once your father was occupied by Michael killing again. It had also been a few days since you saw Michael and you hoped that was just because his bandages were holding up well. The last thing either of you needed was another sick week.

Currently you were heading home after spending the afternoon reading at the park. Your little bag bumped against your hip as you hopped along to the music coming out of your tinny headphones. It was unlikely Michael had been watching you, since you didn't feel his eyes on you, but you still felt like taking a break from the house for a minute.

The sight of a cop car parked haphazardly along the sidewalk made you freeze. It had hit the curb slightly and looked like the driver had been in a hurry to get out. The door was wide open and you lowered your headphones slowly, the frantic voice over the radio better. The voice was staticy and it sounded like whoever it was was running but their words were crystal clear. "All units respond. Multiple fatalities reported on Orange Grove Ave. Suspect has been identified as one Michael Myers. He is armed and extremely dangerous. Shoot to kill, I repeat, shoot to kill. Over."

You felt your stomach drop and your head whipped around. Orange Grove Ave was just ahead so you took off like a shotgun, sprinting down the street. The only sound was that of your shoes hitting the pavement as you tried to come up with a plan. If they hadn't seen him yet, you just needed to get an opening for him to escape. You knew of Michael's unnatural ability to vanish if your eyes weren't on him.

Desperately, you didn't want him to get shot again.

You rounded the corner onto Orange Grove with a sharp turn, your eyes immediately spotting a second cop car. "Fuck!" You hissed to yourself as you picked up the pace. You should have gone looking for Michael sooner. Should have left for the park earlier in hopes of catching his attention. Anything, anything to have avoided him getting caught.

When you got closer to the car, you noticed a cop hanging halfway out of the car. His head had been smashed in, a puddle of gore, blood, and brain matter leaking steadily down the side of the car door. You felt like throwing up but you held it in when you spotted his partner. A young man, likely fresh on the force, clutching his gun as he pointed it down the alleyway. His trembling told you all you needed to know.

The officer gave you a quick glance, fear obvious on his face. "Get back!" He called to you.

You ignored him and looked down the alleyway. Michael stood there calmly, hanging back in the shadows between the two buildings. Another cop lay before him and you watched with horror as Michael's boot made heavy contact with the cop's skull, a wet, sickening crunch echoing out in the small space.

"Get down and put your hands in the air!" The rookie said, hands on the gun shaking as he kept his eyes on Michael. An idea came to you. It was stupid, reckless, and dangerous.

You lunged for the cop, knocking his gun from his hands and sending him stumbling.

He didn't even have time to do anything but look at you with horrified eyes before Michael descended on him. He grabbed the rookie by his collar and lifted him effortlessly before running him through with his knife, spilling his guts on the sidewalk in warm waterfalls of blood. You scrambled backwards to avoid being caught in the spray but Michael gladly covered himself in the fresh gore. The rookie's lifeless body hit the floor with a heavy, empty sound and Michael turned his attention on you.

You scanned the nearby area and spotted a little path between two houses overrun with grass and brush. Without a second thought, you took off towards it and just hoped Michael was behind you. Other members of the force would be on their way and you both needed to disappear. You ignored the scratching of sharp branches against your arms and hands, only wincing when a particularly sharp one sliced a thin cut across your calf.

But you didn't falter. You kept running through the town, your heart pounding hard and pumping pure fumes through you as you ran. As soon as you broke into the treeline of the forest, you collapsed to your knees and let yourself catch your breath.

A hand gripped the back of your shirt and for a brief second you feared you'd been caught. But Michael dragged you towards a tree, pinning you to it and holding his bloody knife close under your throat, the blade digging into your skin. "Wait!" You struggled against his grip, kicking out at him with your heavy boots. "What did I do?! I got you out of there without getting shot!"

You could see his eyes this close. Hazel, like you'd suspected. His eyes were narrow with hate and anger as he glared you down. But you stopped struggling and that only seemed to make him madder. "I wasn't just going to let you get hurt!" You hissed, reaching up to grab the hand that held your collar tightly, keeping you rooted in place. "I don't see what you're so angry about."

He didn't like that answer. The knife pressed in and you gasped when you felt a stream of your own blood run down, wetting his fingers. "Stop," you pleaded, clawing at him frantically. "Stop, please, I'm sorry."

That wasn't good enough for him and held you tighter. Tears welled up in your eyes and fell, mixing with the blood. Pain shot through you when Michael yanked his knife away, taking a few steps back and letting you slide down the tree as you gasped for breath. Your hands gripped at your neck, slightly relieved it wasn't more than a surface cut. Blood started to stain your hands, falling in rivulets down your arm and leaking over your elbows only to stain the grass beneath you a muddy red color.

His head tilted as he watched and you wanted to spit at him. "Y'know, I kinda thought we had a partnership going on." Your words were choked as you glared up at him. "Was I wrong?"

That seemed to get to him. He straightened up and stared you down. You got up on shaking legs and stumbled away from him and towards the forest. His footsteps were loud as he followed behind you and that only served to make you angrier. The walk home was silent and he stayed a few feet behind you the whole time, never getting closer nor straying. The only sounds were the twigs crackling under your shoes and you were too rattled to feel or think much of anything. Your only goal was getting home.

You kicked the back door open and stormed inside and upstairs to the bathroom. You stared at yourself in the mirror and wanted to smack yourself for your infatuation with a killer who didn't care about you. The cut was, thankfully, small. And hopefully the amount on your arms could convince your dad you were just handling a blackberry bush at work or something. The one on your leg could be hidden under pants until it healed. So you began rooting around for bandages and ignored Michael standing in the doorway.

"I help you get away and you try to kill me?" You growled, glaring at him in the mirror. "I could have let that cop shoot you and I didn't because I fucking care, Michael." Tears threatened to fall again and you swallowed them back when he gave you a tilt of his head. "I get you aren't good with feelings and- and maybe this is just you needing me to clean and feed you but I wanted to help you." You dabbled your neck with a cotton ball soaked in hydrogen peroxide and hissed at the sting. "If that's all you want me for then fine but I need to know where we stand."

He watched you bandage your neck, his shoulders set tight as he waited for you to finish. He set the knife down on the counter and reached for you but you flinched back. "Wash your hands." You mumbled and stepped back more to give him access to the sink.

The water ran for some time as the two of you watched the blood swirl down the drain and out of sight. Once the water ran clear, he pulled his hands out and reached for you again. You wanted to run but were backed up into a corner with no way out.

He covered your eyes with one and you frowned in confusion. "What are you-?" He took your wrist with his free hand and held it to his face again, silencing you. His face felt wet and that concerned you. "Are you bleeding somewhere?" You tried feeling around for any cuts but he shook his head no. "Was it raining?" Another no.

So an idea came to you. A dangerous one if you were wrong. "Were you… crying?"

He nodded. Your heart broke.

You pulled him in for a hug, keeping your eyes closed as you just held him. He dropped the hand from your eyes to hold your hip, leaning into your touch like he did when he was ill a few weeks ago. "What happened?" You tried, holding his face with both hands.

Michael just shook his head helplessly and bumped your foreheads together. Oh. Oh. "Were you… worried I was turning you in?" No. "Was it because I was there while you were, uh, hunting?" No. You chewed on your lip as another dangerous thought came to you. "You were worried I was going to get hurt."

His jaw clenched as his throat worked around a growl. The Boogeyman of Haddonfield couldn't afford to feel anything. He doesn't. As far as anyone is concerned at least. Yet here you were, defying all odds and earning Michael's favor. His protection. His care. And the idea of losing you had terrified him, causing him to lash out at you for willingly putting yourself in danger. Emotions had run high and he'd acted out. He hadn't known what else to do but scare you back. 

"I'm sorry I worried you," you said softly, stroking your thumbs over his cheeks and wiping the moisture away as you kept your eyes closed. "I was worried about you too. I heard the police radio mention shooting you on sight so I went looking for you." His grip on you tightened slightly and you sighed. "I know that you're used to people shooting at you or- or attacking you. But I'm not used to hearing about it."

You finally admitted to yourself and him: "I don't want you to die."

After a moment of silence, he pressed your foreheads together. You felt his breath ghost over your skin and your noses bumped together awkwardly. You hooked a hand behind his neck to just hold him and he squeezed your hips tight. "I don't want you to die," you gasped into your shared air. He made a muffled sound and this felt so much more intimate than any kind of kissing you'd done in the past. You just stood there in each other's spaces, sharing air and warmth and closeness that you hadn't had with someone else in a long time. You couldn't imagine how it felt for him.

"We're in this together now, okay?" You said softly, your eyes fluttering open to meet his. Pretty, you thought absently. But you already knew that. Brown ringlet curls, one eye injured from his fight with Laurie Strode, and a light dusting of freckles across his nose. His face looked damp and you brushed under his eyes with the hem of your sleeve. Despite that, his face was expressionless even though you could see conflict swirling in his eyes. You couldn't imagine how he was feeling. "We'll look out for each other, yeah?"

He gave you a slow nod and you smiled. Your foreheads pressed together again and you felt his shoulders relax as his eyes closed. Trust. You both trusted each other and were partners in this now. You accepted you'd be complacent in his crimes going forward and he'd learn to accept your care in time.

Just you and your Boogeyman against the world...

[zsupika]

Obey me! Sleeping headcanons

A/N: I've been meaning to write this for so long and I finally did it. It kinda turned more into nighttime headcanons instead of sleeping headcanons but whatever. Enjoy nonetheless!

Featuring: Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Lucifer and Belphie

Mammon

Mammon is such an easy sleeper

Literally one minute and he's asleep

He loves to sleep with you by his side

It just relaxes him to see you next to him, to know that you're okay

He cuddles up to your side and snuggles his face into your neck

You notice that he fell asleep when his breath becomes a little heavier

He snores slightly but only very quietly

He feels warm and smells like cologne and freshly washed sheets

In the middle of the night he sometimes start to groan while turning around or changing his sleep position

Whenever you get up, to go to the bathroom or to drink something, he starts to cling to you and mumbles that you should stay

He's so silly

Leviathan

He stays up until late at night, gaming

When youre in his room, he usually puts some blankets and pillows on the floor for you two to lay in and relax while gaming together

Like a little pillowfort

When he notices that you're getting sleepier, he turns some of the bigger lights off and pulls the softest blanket over your shoulder

After a while you falls asleep and basically fall into his lap

This makes him panic slightly, since he's not sure if he should move or not

He decided to carefully carry you into his bathtub-bed

He lays you down and puts some pillows and blankets back

He shuts down most of the remaining lights and crawls next to you, careful not to wake you

He lays on his side and is face to face with you

You're breathing is a little heavier so he knows that you're asleep

He gives you a light forehead kiss and takes your hands into his

And he falls asleep by your side

Asmodeus

Before bed he always takes a shower or a bath

He does his skincare together with you

You two share face masks and take selfies while you're at it

He likes to massage your neck to help you relax and lose any tention

After you're finished with everything you lay down on his bed and he joins you

His favorite position is just anything where you two are somehow intertwined

He makes sure that you're comfortable and have all the space that you need nonetheless

The scent of freshness and parfum stays in the air

He doesn't snore or anything but he does like to lightly hum you to sleep

Once you're asleep he start to feel tired as well and falls asleep shortly after you

Lucifer

He also goes to sleep rather late

Being busy with paperwork or something like that, causes him to come to his room later than usual

You're still awake since you couldn't sleep without him

He noticed you being awake and started some smalltalk with you

After he changed clothes, he layed down next to you and sighed heavily

He was so relieved that the day was finally over and he was so lucky to have you by his side

You brushed your hand through his hair, thus relaxing him a lot

He thanked you and kissed your temple

You snuggled to his side and rested your hand on his chest

He relaxed more and more into your touch and fell asleep after a couple of minutes

You smiled softly as you pressed a kiss onto his cheek

You were glad he was here, with you

He felt warm and smelled like paper

You were happy to have him by your side

Belphie

His bed is FILLED with pillows of all sizes and shapes

He sleeps a lot

Sadly your urge to sleep isn't as strong as his is so you can't lay by his side all the time

It makes him whine whenever you leave to get up and actually do something

But when you do sleep next to him, he always hugs you like a pillow

He wraps his arms totally around you and breathes in your natural scent

He loves the way you smell, even if it may sound weird, he finds it so comfortable to have you by his side

Those are always his favorite sleeps

When you wake up, you pepper him with kisses on his face, making him groan and causing you to giggle

He does always blush a little at your action but he obviously tries to hide it

[rafesapologist]

the set up — rafe cameron; part twelve

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you've been one of the pogues since childhood, and your loyalty has always lied within your friend group, who is practically your family. when a threat by the name of rafe cameron begins to threaten the pogue's plans, they assign you to gain the trust of the dubious kook and keep an eye on what he's up to. however, now it's been six months since your friends set you up to spy on the kook prince himself, but what you didn't anticipate was to fall head over heels for the boy. your relationship had soon become inviolable shortly after your guys' first exchanges, much to your friends' dismay, and you two became practically inseperable. that was, until rafe discovers the truth.

warnings: angst, swearing, SMUT

author's note: i hope you guys are enjoying the longer chapters! it feels really nice to be back and have everyone already showing just as much support for this series as you guys did prior to my hiatus. i was struggling with a huge case of writer's block (that i feared i was not going to overcome lol), so i'm really excited to be back writing on here. i do plan to keep updating this series more frequently as well, if you haven't already noticed, sort of to pay my dues for being away for so long. love you mwah

"I do love you."

Your words spilled out abruptly, escaping before you could rein them in. Heat surged through your body, a swift rush of warmth brought on by the sudden and unintended admission. The truth, though genuine, caught you off guard, leaving you reeling in the aftermath of your own confession.

As the reality of what you'd uttered sank in, a wave of regret washed over you, the weight of the moment pressing down with force. Shock etched across your features, a mask of surprise mirrored in your eyes as you grappled with the gravity of your admission.

The air hung heavy with anticipation as silence enveloped the room, your words lingering unspoken, a testament to the vulnerability of the moment. You stared up at Rafe, a mix of emotions swirling within you, uncertain and apprehensive about what his response might entail. In that suspended moment, you grappled with a swirl of emotions, still processing the weight of your confession and unsure of what lay ahead.

"You... what?" Rafe's voice carried a tone of disbelief, his features contorted in confusion, eyebrows knit tightly together. His expression mirrored the astonishment that had engulfed you moments before, leaving both of you seemingly dumbfounded by the unexpected admission that hung in the air.

The aura of disbelief seemed to permeate the room, an unspoken tension weaving between you, each moment stretching as you both grappled with the weight of the statement that had just been uttered, hanging in the air, unaddressed.

"I know I didn't say it before, but Rafe, I was just trying to protect you," you confessed, urgency lacing your words. "I didn't not say it because I didn't feel it or mean it. I just... I don't want you caught up with someone like me." Your voice carried a mix of sincerity and vulnerability, each word spoken with a weight that mirrored the depth of your emotions. The confession hung between you, a delicate yet heartfelt attempt to explain the unspoken, a raw honesty seeping through your words.

"I've fallen in love with you each day I'm with you, Rafe," your voice carried a poignant honesty, baring the depth of your emotions. "I couldn't stop myself from loving you even if I tried."

Rafe stood there, a myriad of emotions flickering across his features—surprise, contemplation, and a hint of something deeper, his gaze fixed on you. His mouth slightly agape, he seemed caught in a moment of contemplation, as though searching for a trace of truth in your eyes.

His searching gaze lingered, probing as if trying to unravel the sincerity behind your words. There was a palpable tension in the air, a pregnant pause, as Rafe grappled with the weight of your confession, silently contemplating his next words or actions.

"How could you possibly hurt me, Y/n?" Rafe's voice carried a mix of hurt and vulnerability, his eyes revealing the turmoil within. "Don't you think it hurts more, feeling like the person you love doesn't love you back?" His words echoed with a deep sense of emotional pain, revealing the ache that had been concealed beneath the surface. There was a rawness in his tone, a poignant vulnerability that laid bare the wounds of unreciprocated emotions.

"It's more complicated than you know, Rafe," you replied, a tinge of sadness seeping into your voice. The weight of unspoken truths and complexities lingered heavily in the air, underscoring the intricate layers of emotions that intertwined between you.

"Stop saying that, Y/n! Whatever it is, we could've worked through it! We could've— we could've made it work regardless of whatever the fuck it is, or was," Rafe's voice trembled with a mix of frustration and desperation. His plea carried an earnest longing, a fervent desire to transcend whatever barriers stood between you, a wish to salvage what seemed irreparably fractured.

Your expression sank into sorrow, mirroring the weight of the moment. "Could've?" you echoed softly, the word lingering in the air, heavy with a sense of missed opportunities and regret. The question hung there, laden with a tinge of realization, an acknowledgment of a potential future that now seemed distant and unattainable.

Rafe sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "All last night and today, I just kept replaying in my head what you said to me. When I told you I loved you, and you basically pushed me away? I mean, is it really that easy for you to just throw me away, Y/n?" Rafe paused, a mix of hurt and confusion etched on his face.

Before he could continue, you interjected with a resolute tone. "No, it's not like that, Rafe." Your voice carried an earnestness, a plea to convey the complexity of the situation. Yet, words seemed to evade you as the weight of the moment settled heavily upon your shoulders.

"Then why? Why was it seemingly so easy for you to shut me out like that?

"It wasn't easy," you responded softly, your voice tinged with a mix of regret and sorrow. "There's just... so much more to it than I can explain right now." The weight of unspoken complexities lingered in your tone, a hint of remorse underscoring your words.

Rafe shook his head in frustration, his movements agitated as he paced back and forth across the room. "You can't even be honest with me?" His voice cracked with exasperation, each step he took emphasizing the intensity of his emotions.

"I am trying to be honest, Rafe," you replied, your voice strained with the weight of the conversation. "But some things... they're just not easy to explain, especially when it's this complicated." You gestured vaguely, trying to articulate the tangled mess of emotions and circumstances that seemed impossible to unravel.

"Trying? You're trying to be honest? Do you hear yourself right now?" Rafe's words came out as a snap, causing you to startle, his tone sharp and cutting. The sting of his words pricked at your emotions, tears welling up in your eyes, a manifestation of the overwhelming frustration and hurt that filled the room.

"I-I'm sorry, Rafe. I didn't mean to hurt you; I was just trying to do what I thought was right," your voice faltered, cracking with emotion. The apology carried a weight of remorse, a desperate attempt to convey your intentions despite the unintended pain caused.

Rafe halted his pacing, his gaze softening as he noticed the tears streaming down your rosy cheeks. "Y/n... don't cry, please," he pleaded, a note of concern lacing his words. His frustration ebbed, replaced by a sense of empathy, as he reached a hand out, almost instinctively, aching to wipe away the tears that marred your face.

"I care about you, Rafe, regardless of if you think I don't," you confessed, your voice tinged with earnestness. "Truly, the only reason I didn't say it back was because I was scared. Because once we both admit that, this becomes serious, and that just opens more doors and ways for one of us to get hurt. I know that doesn't scare you, but it does me. So, I'm sorry."

"Y/n, you think I'm not scared too?" Rafe chuckled softly, a hint of vulnerability in his laughter. "I worry every single day that you're gonna get up and leave, that you'll change your mind and go. The closer I get to you, the more my feelings grow for you. It's terrifying, Y/n. My heart is right in your hands." He looked down, reaching for your hands, rubbing them gently with the pads of his thumbs, a silent plea for understanding and reassurance.

"You never show it," you observed, looking up at him with a hint of confusion. Rafe chuckled quietly, shaking his head in response. "Doesn't make it any less true," he murmured, his gaze meeting yours with a blend of sincerity and a touch of vulnerability.

"Rafe?"

"Yes?" Rafe turned to face you fully, his eyes fixed on yours with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. The room felt charged with emotion as he waited for your next words, a blend of hope and apprehension evident in his expression.

"I really do love you," you spoke quietly, the weight of your words hanging in the air. There was a fragility in your voice, a fear that your declaration might go unheard or misunderstood in the tense atmosphere of the moment.

Rafe's previously unreadable expression softened into a small, tender smile. His eyes glimmered with a quiet warmth, reflecting the sincerity of his feelings. "I love you too, Y/n," he confessed softly, the words carrying an unmistakable honesty and depth of emotion.

As the admission of love hung in the air, an unspoken understanding passed between you and Rafe. The room seemed to soften, the atmosphere charged with an indescribable warmth. Rafe gently cupped your face with his hands, his touch both tender and reassuring.

His lips met yours in a lingering kiss, a soft and sweet connection that spoke volumes in the silence. It wasn't just a meeting of lips; it was an exchange of emotions, a promise sealed with the gentle press of each kiss. Time seemed to slow as you shared this intimate moment, lost in the sensation of being close, of feeling the heartbeat that echoed the depth of your emotions.

The kiss held a tenderness that transcended words, conveying a shared vulnerability and a newfound closeness. When you finally pulled away, the air between you felt charged with a newfound understanding, a connection that went beyond spoken confessions. The small smile that lingered on both your faces spoke of a silent agreement, a promise to navigate the complexities ahead together.

Without a word, Rafe's lips crash against yours in a desperate, intoxicating kiss. Your mouths meld together, tongues entwined in a passionate dance. The taste of him fills your senses, fueling your desire for more.

As the intensity of the kiss deepens, Rafe's hands begin to explore, gliding over the curves of your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Piece by piece, fabric falls away, revealing your vulnerability and beauty. Every touch, every stroke, heightens the ache of longing.

With a gentle yet commanding touch, Rafe guides you towards the bed, a haven of pleasure awaiting your arrival. You surrender to the soft sheets, your bodies entangled in a symphony of desire. The room fills with the sound of your shared moans and whispers.

His lips trail down your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses along your collarbone. Your breath hitches as he moves lower, his hands caressing your breasts, his tongue flicking against your hardened nipples. Pleasure courses through you, urging you to arch your back and moan his name.

Rafe's hands continue to explore, his fingers teasingly tracing the sensitive spots of your body. A gasp escapes your lips as he dips lower, his mouth finding its way to your most intimate area. His tongue dances expertly, flicking and swirling, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

The intensity builds, and you find yourself craving more. You guide Rafe's body on top of yours, feeling the weight of his desire pressing against you. As he enters you, a moan escapes your lips, merging with his own sounds of pleasure.

Your bodies move in synchrony, a dance of passion and ecstasy. Each thrust brings you closer to the edge, your senses heightened by the intoxicating pleasure. The room fills with the sounds of your moans, mingling with the rhythmic slapping of flesh against flesh.

Rafe's thrusts become more urgent, each one pushing you closer to the edge. He watches you intently, his eyes filled with a mix of raw passion and adoration. With each movement, you can feel the heat building within you, a coil of desire ready to explode.

Your fingers find their way to Rafe's back, digging into his flesh as you draw him closer, craving a deeper connection. The rhythm of your bodies becomes frenzied, the friction between you intensifying the sensations that ripple through your core.

Every nerve ending in your body feels alive, on the brink of complete surrender. The pleasure becomes almost overwhelming, a delicious ache that demands release. Your moans blend together, a symphony of ecstasy that fills the room.

As Rafe's hand finds its way between your bodies, his touch sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you. His fingers expertly explore the most sensitive part of your being, pushing you closer to the edge with each skilled stroke.

With your bodies intertwined, the sensation builds to an exquisite crescendo. It's as if time slows down, each moment stretching with anticipation. You can feel the wave of climax crashing over you, ready to engulf you in its blissful embrace.

As you reach the precipice, your bodies tense with anticipation. Your breath catches in your throat as you lock eyes with Rafe, a silent understanding passing between you. And then, with one final thrust, the dam breaks.

A surge of pleasure engulfs you, radiating from the depths of your being. The world around you fades away as you ride the wave of ecstasy, your bodies trembling in unison. You cry out in pure bliss, your voice mingling with Rafe's as you both reach the pinnacle of pleasure.

In that moment of release, time stands still. Your bodies continue to quiver with aftershocks, basking in the euphoria that washes over you. You lie intertwined, breathless and spent, knowing that you have shared an intimate connection unlike any other.

As the intense waves of pleasure subside, you and Rafe lie intertwined, your bodies still tingling with the aftermath of your passionate encounter. The room is filled with a sense of intimacy and contentment, your connection deepened by the shared experience. Rafe's arm wraps protectively around you, pulling you closer to his warm and comforting embrace. His touch is gentle, his fingertips tracing soothing patterns along your skin. You feel a sense of peace wash over you as you rest against his chest, your heartbeats gradually returning to normal.

Your breathing gradually steadies, matching the rhythm of each other's as you bask in the aftermath of your shared climax. A comfortable silence envelops you both, punctuated only by soft whispers and the occasional tender kiss.

As you look into Rafe's eyes, you see a mixture of love and adoration reflected back at you. It's a silent affirmation of the connection you share, a bond that goes beyond the physical realm. In this moment, there is no doubt that your love for each other is real and profound. Words become unnecessary as you communicate through simple touches and gentle caresses. Your fingers trace the contours of his face, committing every detail to memory. It's an unspoken promise to cherish this moment, this connection, forever.

"You're so perfect," Rafe whispered softly, his warm breath caressing your skin as his gentle fingers traced delicate patterns through your silken strands of hair. The tenderness in his touch sent shivers of pleasure down your spine, as you lost yourself in the intoxicating sensation of his presence.

In the tranquility of Rafe's words, you responded with a tender hum, feeling the weariness gradually seep into your bones. The comforting warmth of his bare arms drew you closer, and in the safety of his embrace, you surrendered to the embrace of sleep, your breathing steadying as consciousness gently slipped away.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

You stirred from slumber hours later, the faint glow of the room revealing Rafe's silhouette. He sat beside you, immersed in the soft illumination of the TV, his attention captured by the flickering screen. As you awakened, he glanced over, a gentle smile gracing his lips at the sight of your awakening.

As your eyelids fluttered open, the room's soft ambiance greeted you. With a gentle stretch, you shifted, your voice carrying a hint of sleepiness as you asked, "Mm, what time is it?" Rubbing away the remnants of slumber from your eyes, you sought to orient yourself in the space around you.

"Midnight," chuckled Rafe, the soft glow of the room emphasizing the amusement in his voice. Your eyes widened as the realization hit that you had dozed through most of the day. "You were pretty much knocked out after we did it," he teased, prompting you to playfully nudge him away with a feignedly annoyed expression dancing across your face.

"Haha, very funny," you retorted, rolling your eyes playfully. "Has anyone come back yet?" Curiosity lingered in your inquiry, contemplating if the two of you were the only occupants in the house.

"Uh, no, no they haven't yet," Rafe responded, a casual shrug accompanying his words. "Dad said things got delayed, and he has some shit he has to do before he comes home, I guess." His attention remained fixed on the TV screen, his relaxed demeanor indicating a sense of ease and obliviousness in the moment.

"Got it," you murmured, settling back onto the bed. Thoughts raced through your mind, pondering if Ward had discovered anything about the gold and its disappearance. An undercurrent of concern mingled with curiosity, creating a sense of unease that lingered beneath the surface.

"Something wrong?" Rafe's voice was gentle as he turned his head towards you, concern etched in his expression.

You shook your head, a faint smile touching your lips. "No, no! I just... figured they'd been gone a while," you reassured, attempting to downplay the anxious thoughts that had surfaced.

"They usually are," Rafe shrugged casually, his tone holding a hint of familiarity with the situation. "Dad gets his mind set on doing something and doesn't stop 'til it's done, especially when it comes to the gold." His words held a mixture of nonchalance and understanding, reflecting a familiarity with his father's determined nature when it came to matters concerning the gold.

"Right..." You echoed softly, acknowledging Rafe's insight with a hint of uncertainty lingering in your response.

Suddenly, Rafe hit pause on the TV, shifting to sit on his side, facing you directly. "I want to talk to you about something," he started, prompting an immediate increase in your heart rate. You sat up slightly, anticipation coursing through you. "Okay, go on," you encouraged, your voice tinged with a hint of apprehension.

"Well, we haven't talked about it much, and it's coming up, so I thought it would be important to mention it now," Rafe began, his tone measured. "Midsummers."

"Oh." Your body relaxed, a wave of relief washing over you as your worst fears weren't materializing in that moment. "What about it?"

Rafe's expression softened into a gentle smile. "Well, I know dresses can be pretty... pricey, especially for an event like that. So, I'm gonna give you the money to buy whatever you need for it. I want my girl to feel and look like the princess she is," he beamed.

You sat there, stunned by his unexpected gesture, feeling a mixture of disbelief and gratitude coursing through you. "Rafe, this is too much, you don't have to do that," you insisted softly, your eyes meeting his in genuine surprise.

"I want to," he repeated, his voice steady and resolute. There was a sincerity in his eyes that struck you, a genuine desire to make this occasion special for you. The warmth in his gaze was undeniable, and his unwavering determination to see this through made your heart flutter with a mix of emotions.

You hesitated for a moment, torn between the overwhelming gratitude for Rafe's gesture and your own sense of independence. His unwavering determination was evident, and you knew him well enough to recognize that once he set his mind on something, it was nearly impossible to dissuade him.

"Rafe..." You sighed, looking at him with a mixture of emotions, trying to find the right words to express both appreciation and reservation. "I really appreciate it, but it's just... I don't want to impose," you trailed off, fiddling with your fingers, uncertain of how to gracefully accept his generosity.

Rafe's expression softened as he reached out, gently taking your hand in his. "Y/n, it's not an imposition. It's something I want to do for you." His eyes held a sincerity that resonated deeply, his gaze unwavering.

You met his gaze, seeing the earnestness in his eyes, and with a small smile, you relented. "Okay, Rafe. Thank you," you finally acquiesced, knowing that he wouldn't take no for an answer, a mix of appreciation and a hint of amusement playing on your lips as you gave in to his stubborn yet endearing nature.

"Thank you," you whispered again, touched by his genuine effort to make you feel special. Rafe's smile widened at your acceptance, and he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple, a soft and reassuring gesture that warmed your heart. "That's my girl," he murmured, his voice filled with affection and pride, his hand tenderly resting on yours.

As you sat there, basking in Rafe's warmth and his kind gesture, your phone vibrated on the night stand. Curiosity piqued, you furtively glanced at the screen, seeing a message from Kiara. The text's urgency was unmistakable, your friends possibly caught in some trouble.

Your expression shifted involuntarily, a blend of concern and worry crossing your features. However, even in your attempt to hide it, Rafe, perceptive as always, noticed the change in your demeanor. His brows furrowed inquisitively. "Is everything okay?"

You swiftly pocketed your phone, trying to compose yourself. "Yeah, it's just... something Kiara mentioned," you replied vaguely, trying to mask the unease in your voice.

Rafe's concern mirrored in his eyes as he reached out, gently placing his hand on your arm. "What happened? Is it serious?"

You debated whether to tell him or not, but the concern in his eyes made you reconsider. "I'm not sure yet," you said, attempting to keep the situation vague as you grappled with the balance of keeping him informed and not alarming him unnecessarily.

The shrill ring of your phone broke the tense air. With a glance at the caller ID flashing Kiara's name, you swiftly picked up. "Kiara? What is it?" Your voice held a tinge of urgency and concern.

Rafe watched you closely, sensing the gravity of the situation from your anxious tone. He remained silent, giving you space to handle the call, but his eyes spoke volumes, questioning and concerned about the sudden change in atmosphere.

"JJ's missing."

taglist: @ellesalazar, @champomiel, @vadinaleme, @kys4-20, @gills-lounge, @allsmilesreally7, @sublimepenguinpeach-blog, @sp00ky-spr1te, @bibliophilewednesday, @haroldpotterson, @i-love-rafe, @ellesalazar, @calmoistorm, @abundantxadorations, @fals3-g0d, @gillybear17, @oiiviagrande, @hockeybabe87, @augustlikesdeath, @wpdailyminimeta, @palmwinemami, @loxleys-blog, @ikisscline, @flyestvenustrap, @ilovesteveharrngton, @ijustwanttoreadlols

[stsgluver]

synopsis. gojo satoru always wins.

wc. 880

tags. gojo x reader, fluff, spoilers for 236, possible spelling mistakes I have not proofread this (do I ever?)

a/n. currently clearing out all my old wips. i've already written this in a different version I think but idc bc if i write about him coming home enough times he will eventually do it. my next few works are probs going to be my rich boy!gojo drafts

there was a brief moment when the world stilled. the air was squeezed from your lungs as everything around you slowly began to spin and you weren’t sure the last time you had slept – had it been that long that the hallucinations were finally starting to kick in?

“oh my god.” those were the only words you could utter in your state of disbelief. you couldn’t close your eyes: you couldn’t risk him disappearing. if you were brave enough, you’d reach out to trace the new scars carved into his porcelain skin.

“you can’t say that, you know how my ego is,” gojo looked as gorgeous as ever, arm raised as he leant against the doorframe of his apartment. the same apartment you’d set up camp in nineteen days ago and had only left when yuuji brought you some food. you’d lost too much to process and you were a shell of the person gojo had kissed goodbye to before he left for shibuya. there were deep purple bags under your eyes, your hair was loosely tied back in a messy bun that probably hadn’t been properly washed or brushed in several days and your clothes were probably just gojo’s – you’d been desperate for some sense of familiarity. 

he looked like he hadn’t just been sealed away in another realm. the only evidence of a struggle were his new scars that seemed to decorate every inch of available skin, beyond that he looked excited to be alive, his fitted clothes clinging to him. his cursed energy was terrifyingly immense and you knew him well enough to know he was still riding off of a high that came with fighting for him. 

you were scared to ask who had been the opponent – never would the world’s strongest sorcerer be injured and not cause equal amounts of harm in return. he had a title to uphold after all, something to prove.

“not even a hello?” he shook his head, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he tsked you. he was so casual in his mannerisms, playing it all off as though he hadn’t spent what felt like an eternity counting down the seconds so that he could see you again. “you can’t have forgotten me that quickly.” he was practically whining now, desperate for the love and warmth you gave him but not daring to cross the threshold and smother you. 

you weren’t a sorcerer and though you understood some of his world, there was so much more that you didn’t. gojo would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared that one day it would be too overwhelming for you and you’d leave him like everyone else had. 

so he did what he did best: masked his insecurities with a sarcastic humour that held no bite: “don’t tell me there’s another man in the house.”

you smiled, and blinked, and you were suddenly here again; in the moment with him and not a thousand miles away wondering what the hell he’d been through. a lone tear slipped down your cheek and gojo ached to wipe it away.

“are you… are you real?” your voice was still shaky and if it wasn’t for the complete silence, you doubted that he would’ve been able to hear you. 

but he did, and then his arm is up against the doorframe again and he was gesturing to his physique as he complimented himself, “super powerful, mega rich and dashingly handsome? i know how perfect i may seem but i’m very real.” he winked and suddenly it was like you remembered that you have free will, practically jumping into his arms.

gojo wasn’t phased as he tucked you tightly into his body, his cursed technique completely dropped for the first time in what felt like forever. his body breathed a sigh of relief as his muscles ached.

“you’re such a jackass,” you lifted up your head to rest against his chest, eyes shining with tears that didn't fall.

gojo nodded slowly, brushing back the loose strands of your hair as he stared at you adoringly, “you love me.”

“mhmm,” you hummed, taking a step back from his longing arms to look up at him through your lashes. “y’know,” you traced a finger across the material on his chest, “you could make it up to me by closing your eyes.” his breath hitched ever so slightly under your touch. you leant in so that your lips almost touched his ear, “i need to kick my boytoy out. things could get kinda awkward if you two saw each other.”

it would be easier to list the things gojo wouldn’t do for you. he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, even going as far as to hold a hand over them. “how pretty is he on a scale of 1-10?”

there was a pause before you responded, as you took in every inch of the man that stood before you. a god in a mortal’s body. one that lived and breathed and worshipped you. “he’s gorgeous,” you whispered, breathless simply from his existence alone. and then he’s smiling and laughing and picking you up, spinning you in a circle and telling you how much he loves you and for a few brief seconds he’s just satoru and you’re just his.

[walpu]

hii, first of all, sorry for my bad english

this may sound weird, but lately i've been thinking of aventurine turning in a cat. like, for some strange reason (maybe during a mission), he turned in a cute little cat. and since reader doesn't know he's a cat, he feels free to enjoy all reader's affection, and maybe to let his emotions win and cry while being caressed. and then he turns human and he's crying enough to fill a swimming pool. idk if i explained well :(

tysm, i love love love your works!! ❤︎

AWWW THIS IS SUCH A CUTE REQUEST and don't worry your English is perfectly fine! It's not my native language as well so I get the struggle tho

I love making my faves cry so there's a possibility that I've got a bit carried away lol

taking care of cat!Aventurine

edits by @keisieudeptry on twitter

characters - Aventurine notes - gn!reader, a bit of angst, hurt/comfort, a lot of cuddles, n̷̳͙͊͛õ̵̩͓ ̸̧͉̓b̶̳́̎e̵̖͋͊ṭ̴̩̔ȧ̵̪͚̕

Aventurine

Listen, he's always on alert okay. This man rarely allows himself to relax, especially when he's on another one of his business trips.

And he knows what to expect. Lies, attempts on his life, threats etc. He has seen it all.

But this. This. This is something new. Of course anything can happen when you're dealing with The Masked fools but this? Being turned into a cat? In what place this is even funny? It is kinda funny tho just not for Aven

He knows better than to panic. Yes, being turned into a tiny orange cat was not a part of his plans. Yes, this is probably the most defenseless and vulnerable state he's been in since his childhood. Yes, this sucks. But hey not like panicking will change anything.

Instead he just sits in the corner, feeling incredibly anxious and dreadful. His only hope is that this shapeshifting trick won't last for long.

A huge wave of relief washes over him when he sees a familiar person. And not just any person but you. The only person who can put his restless mind at ease, at least for a short time. He wouldn't mind seeing Topaz or Ratio too but it's much better when it's you.

He quickly realizes, however, that his joy was premature. He can't communicate with you! And you don't know that this is him! So the only thing poor Aven can do is follow you around and... meow. It's almost humiliating. Too bad he doesn't have time to care.

Soon enough you give up at finally pick up the oddly familiar cat. Every time you try to put the cat down it starts meowing and running after you so the only thing you can do is pick it up and carry around like a potato.

And you know how it is with cats, once you put your hands on one you can't stop petting it. You run your fingers through the cat's fur absently, while checking you phone for any messages from Aventurine. Hugging the cat, pressing your face to it's soft fur. Something about it surely reminds you of Aven. The thought, no matter how childish it is, brings a small smile on your face.

And poor, poor Aven. For so long he's been longing for your touch while laying awake at night, his poor heart flattered every time your fingers brushed against his. He wants wants wants to melt into your embrace yet this is not allowed for him.

How can he ask for it without exposing the deepest and darkest parts of his soul. How can he open his heart to you without reveling all the ugly, fragile parts.

He wants to be open with you, he really does. Yet it's so unreasonably hard. Would you kiss his head like you do now if you would know how empty he is inside? Would he be able to press his forehead into you palm, asking for more more more without feeling exposed?

In a way, it's good that right now he's in this form. He doesn't really have to think about anything, doesn't have to feel anxious about revealing too much. He can just enjoy in.

You two fall asleep just like that and he doesn't have to overthink, he can just crawl to you side, nuzzling up to you.

You can't help but notice that the kitten in your arms is trembling slightly. And when you pull it closer in order to provide some warmth and comfort it just purrs and meows pitifully. Almost like it's… crying.

Now listen. I'm 100% sure Aven is a light sleeper. So there's no way he won't wake up from a loud gasp and a lot of movements near him.

Well. Seems like the shapeshifting trick the masked fool pulled on him lasted only for 12 hours. And now he lays on the couch in his human form while you look at him with the wide eyes.

Awkward.

His initial reaction is to laugh it off. "Surprised, dear? It's a shame you can't see your own face right now ha ha". Would explain the whole situation, trying to make it seem like it was not a big deal. No mention of you cuddling session tho. Max he would say is "my, my, didn't know you where such a cat person".

However, his smile freezes immediately when you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a hug. Well. Here goes all of his feigned confidence.

Here is this feeling again. Your warmth, you scent, the comfort your touch brings. You telling how you started to get worried and how relieved you are that he didn't get hurt. It cuts so deep, makes him feel so exposed yet so needed. Loved even.

At first he doesn't even get it why your eyes get even wider, why a look so lost and worried all of the sudden. Only when your hands hesitantly cup his cheeks and you ask him what's wrong he realizes that there are tears in his eyes.

You know those tears when they just drop from your eyes and it's not like you're hysterical or crying uncontrollably but the tears just keep coming and coming and the more you try to calm down , the worse it gets? Yeah, him.

Would almost automatically tell you that everything is fine. When you confront him, pointing out that he's literally crying, will get even more confused than you. "Hah, seems like you're right, dear" he says with a small smile, giving up on the idea of hiding it from you. After all, it's too late for that anyway.

It feels... not even humiliating, no. It's weird, scary even, to be so open around someone. To be stripped of his mask so suddenly.

And yet he doesn't have time to care when your hands hold him oh so tenderly, when you cup his face and ask him what's wrong.

"Nothing, nothing, really. Just getting a bit sentimental here. Just... hold me like that for a bit more, 'kay?" he manages to whisper with a faint smile before pressing his face in the crook of your neck.

God feeling his tears on your skin feels so surreal. And heartbreaking too.

With each tender touch he gets even more emotional, to the point when he literally chokes on his own tears. Please hold him, run your fingers through his hair, kiss the top of his head.

He just doesn't get it, it feels so good to be held by you, why does his stupid heart hurts so much then?

Honestly he didn't cry for so long and there are so many repressed feelings, just let him let it all out.

He'll probably fall asleep in your arms, feeling very exhausted after the sudden emotional outburst. In the morning would act like nothing has happened, making some dismissing comments about him being a bit overdramatic last night. Don't let him withdraw into himself but don't push him to open up too much as well.

Just touch him more often from now on, especially when he looks like he had a bad day. And eventually he'll turn into your lap cat, reaching out for your warmth himself with or without reason.

"You're being clingy again" "Am not <З" all while sitting on your lap.

You've domesticated him so good luck.