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fairy-angel222 · 8 months ago

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𝐒𝐈𝐗 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 ft Gojo Satoru

— Six years. He’s loved you for six years. He was too young back then but now he’s not. And he plans on showing you that.

᧔♡᧓ Semi Yandere! Gojo x Fem! Reader

᧔♡᧓ Content: age gap (gojo’s 21 n reader is 27), obsessive behavior, smut, pussy eating, porn with some plot, cheating while in talking stage, petnames, praise, breeding, baby trapping, manipulation, gaslighting

᧔♡᧓ A/n: reader always saw gojo as a brother since he was so young, and never really developed feelings for him. it was just lust taking over when they fucked

Six years of friendship with your current best friend. Six years in which her little brother Gojo has had a crush on you. Six years of you only cooing with a giggle as you ruffled his fluffy white head of hair before calling his doting nature cute.

Six years.

Six years that he’s waited for you, becoming more of a man for you. Working out, gaining experience. It was all for you.

You’re twenty seven now, barely any different since the first time he met you. Your soft features still as beautiful as ever and your body just as perfect as he remembered. He’s studied you over the years. Every single time you came over. Studied your patterns, your every move, your likes, your dislikes, he’d even gotten to know your type.

He’d loved you since he was fifteen.

But he’s not a little kid anymore. He’s grown. Twenty one years old. Mature enough to be yours, to take care of you. He deserved you after waiting for so long. And he would show you. Show you that you needed him just as bad, craved him as much as he craved you. He’s the one for you, you just had to open your eyes and see that.

Gojo knows you feel at least a slight bit of attraction towards him. Hell, you’d called him handsome so many times— even though it had been strictly platonic— that you have to had felt something.. right?

On his eighteenth birthday you were there with him, his friends and his sister. He’d even brought a girl, introducing her as his girlfriend to try for a reaction out of you. But you didn’t bat an eye, you were genuinely happy for him. It made his jaw clench, but he was reminded of why he loved you. You were so sweet and caring. A big smile on your face as you embraced him in a hug, giving him the present that you’d been so excited to get. It was something that he had wanted for a while. A part of you saw him and his sister as the siblings you’d never had.

He didn’t need your gift, of course. He had enough money to buy anything he wanted. But it being from you made it special.. so so very special. Especially since you had listened to him. And it was his turn to return the favor. The random expensive gifts never stopped, every time you came over for the next three years it seemed that there was always something wrapped and waiting for you. Somethings just never change, you thought to yourself, piecing together that the boy’s crush had never left.

Then his gifts started getting more and more.. well, whatever you’d consider those matching lace sets that were accompanied a little note that made you swallow hard. Followed up by short dresses and eventually fancy shoes and purses to match. Not to mention the collection of jewelry you’d gotten from him.

Then he was.. less subtle, sending small smirks and winks your way. Finding any excuse just to be next to you or let his hands innocently wander during a hug.

You were not going to tell his sister. You didn’t want there to be any problems between them. You also couldn’t just start coming over less, she was like family to you. So you let his harmless crush continue.

…

Gojo swears luck was on his side, the universe wanting to make things easier for him. You had a boyfriend, a guy you worked with who was a good five years older than you. Like he said, you had a type, and he checked out none of these boxes. He knew everything about the dude, and he knew that he was not good enough for you. He tried to warn you, but what did you do? You smiled at what you took as him being worried about your well being.

So when you came knocking on his front door, flinging yourself into his sister’s arms as you cried into her shoulder. He knew. That asshole had broken your heart. He’d deal with it. He’d truly make the guy regret hurting you.

You were at his house all week, falling into the stage of the break up where you sat in your room (with their house so big you were bound to have one if your own) watching tv with a tub of ice cream and a string of adorable laughter. Anything to take your mind off the sting in your chest.

Then you were out. Everywhere. Going to clubs and parties with his sister just as you two did when you were a little younger. It was reckless, what if you got hurt? What is someone tried something? You were a sight for sore eyes after all. He would make sure to never let that happen. It was why he always accompanied you, whether you were aware of it or not. It was no surprise that you were never able to get laid, despite all the ogling eyes set on you.

…

Gojo leaned against the bathroom’s door frame as you emptied your stomach’s contents into the toilet in front of you. Small moans of displeasure filling the room as your body slumped against it. After math of a night full of drinking.

His arms were folded across his chest, muscles bulging through the tight black fabric which was paired with grey sweats which hung lowly on his hips. Gojo chuckled, pushing himself to stand straight before walking over to you. Stooping down to your current height with the shake of his head. “You should know better than this baby.”

Your brows furrowed, opening your mouth to question him before your head was over the bowl once more. Tears welling in your eyes at the massive headache that had sprung to life. “Shh shh shh baby.” He whispered, “let it all out, you’ll feel better soon.” He soothed, pushing stray strands away from your sweaty forehead while stroking softly at your hair. Whispering little words of encouragement as he held you, smiling sadly when the hug caused you to break down in his arms. No doubt reminding you of your recent breakup.

“Here, i brought you some panadol.” He reached for the two pills and the cup of water on the counter. Letting you sit with your back against his chest as he guided them up to your mouth, bringing the cup to your lips right after. “Here, drink it all okay?” You nodded, swallowing down the water along with the pain relievers. Gojo’s lips pressing softly to your head as he continued to stroke your skin.

You’d fallen asleep. And he’d laid you down on his bed instead of yours. Tucking you in and leaving you to rest.

Downstairs he found his sister, an empty cup sat in front of her along with the pill bottle. She’d clearly been hungover too. “Where is she?”

Gojo gave her a knowing look. “She’s sleeping.”

“Where?”

“My room.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing, not liking the way she was watching him. Was she really that selfish over her best friend.

“Satoru.. she’s twenty seven. You need to get over this stupid little crush of yours and go find someone your own age. She doesn’t want you, she never will.”

Gojo seethed, fists already at his side as he stared angrily at his sister. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Satoru come on-“

“No.” His voice was firm, he didn’t look angry anymore, he looked hurt. “Just.. shut up, please.” A part of him knew that maybe he’d just never be enough for you.

…

Making his way back upstairs Gojo had a plate of pancakes, bacon and eggs along with a glass of hot tea. He walked into his room to find your eyes only just fluttering open with the small stretch of your body. Blinking your eyes to adjust to the bright light while taking in your surroundings, realizing immediately where you were, and who was standing at the door.

“Oh.. Satoru, hi.” Your voice was timid, embarrassed to have been seen in your drunken state by the boy.

“Hey, how’s your head? I brought you breakfast.” He set the food down near the bed before taking a seat next to you. Allowing his fingers to play with the fallen hair from your bun.

“T-thanks.” You nodded, shifting to sit up before grabbing a strip of the crispy meat.

He wouldn’t stop staring at you, couldn’t stop staring at you. And you smiled in his direction, “thanks a lot, i should really get back to my room though.”

He shrugged, “or you could just stay, it’s not like we’re doing anything.” He grinned. “Yet.”

You couldn’t help the way your cheeks heated up at that statement. “It’s okay, i think i’ll just-“

“Stay. Come on, don’t be like that. I’ll even put on your favorite.” Reaching for the remote to search for your favorite show. You bit your lip nervously, not understanding how he could act so normal after all the inappropriate gifts and advances.

His smile never faltered as his hand ‘accidentally’ found yours, slipping his fingers into your own. Not allowing you to let go even if you tried.

…

The next few days were.. good. Gojo had assumed that everything was going well. They were going well, until you decided to ruin everything.

Toji Fushiguro.

A forty something year old man with two children. That’s who you were talking to. Gojo didn’t appreciate how hard you making things for him. You were supposed to be his and he was supposed to be yours.

He was tired of waiting for you to come to him, so he went to you. Knocking on your door with vigor and a small scowl. When the door swung open you were mid-laugh, Toji coming into view behind you with a glass of champagne in hand.

“Seriously? You’ve been ignoring us for him? Him?” Gojo accused pointedly, “My sister misses you, she’s been crying. A lot. Says you’re choosing a guy over your friendship.”

His jaw was hard as he fed you lies through his teeth. Watching your eyes widen as you pondered. Were you ignoring your best friend? You’d seen her just earlier today. You guys had hung out, gone for lunch. Talked about who you both liked with big smiles and non stop giggles. It didn’t feel like anything had changed. “I.. I didn’t realize- i’m sorry.” You didn’t know what to say, it made zero sense. But why would he lie?

Gojo silently cheered as you sadly asked Toji to leave. Giving him a small kiss on the cheek and promising to call him tomorrow. He was not very happy about the last part, but at least he was alone with you.

As soon as he left Gojo marched into your apartment. Nearly falling over his two feet when the scent hit him. Your scent, stronger than ever, that sweet strawberry smell that he’d grown to love.

“Satoru, i didn’t-”

He couldn’t help himself, he really couldn’t. “It’s okay I forgive you.” Turning around for his hand to snake to the back of your neck, heart rate speeding up as he crashed his lips onto yours.

You whimpered in surprise, Gojo controlling the kiss as he backed you up against a wall. His lips quickly traveling down to your neck in desperation. “You know, i’ve waited so long. So fucking long. Waited for you. For us. I’ve given you everything, i’ve done everything. But it’s just never enough is it? You’re just too ungrateful huh baby?”

You moaned loudly. “Satoru.. what are you.. hmm.”

“I’m taking what’s mine baby. Taking what i deserve. I’m not a little boy anymore. I’m a man. I can take care of you.” His lips moved with force, sucking harshly at your skin as he kissed down your chest, free hand roaming to your ass with a squeeze. “I’m old enough to be yours. This isn’t just some crush anymore. I fucking love you.”

You could feel your heart pounding as he uttered the words you wished he hadn’t. “Satoru we can’t.. your sister’s my best friend. I’m still older than you.”

“She’ll get over it.” He breathed, making quick work of your tank top that clung deliciously to your tits. “We’re both consenting adults now aren’t we. If you tell me to stop, i’ll stop.”

Your mouth went dry, lips parting to demand him to go but you couldn’t. You didn’t want him too. What was wrong with you?

“So what will it be baby? Stop? Or don’t stop?”

“Don’t stop..” You mumbled in shame, avoiding his eyes as you looked away. Gojo’s fingers dug into your cheeks, forcing you to turn back to face him.

“What was that? I didn’t quite hear you.”

“I said, don’t stop.” You said a little louder, cheeks burning up under his touch.

“Good girl. I knew you were playing hard to get.” He grinned, “You love the chase as much as i do.”

Gojo’s arms hooked under your thighs, lifting you onto him before reattaching your lips. Carrying you to your bedroom to drop you onto the sheets. Lips never leaving yours as you both hurriedly undressed. He was addicted to you, and having you set fire to his veins. This was all he’d ever wanted.

Gojo dropped to his knees before you, kissing lightly at your pussy before enclosing it with his mouth. Tongue lapping you up hungrily as you moaned, fingers finding his hair with a tremble.

“Satoru— feels so good, haah.” You breathed, Gojo burying his face between your legs with a tight grip on your thighs. Allowing your legs to wrap around his neck as he devoured your sopping heat. You were so sweet— just like everything else about you. And he couldn’t help but rut against nothing as more blood rushed to his cock. Finding pleasure in getting to taste you after years of jerking off to the image.

He’s seen your room more than you, always snatching a pair of anything he could find. Just to be able to hold you in any way or form. Feel you on his skin. Touch something that had already touched you.

Gojo pulled away with his face glistening, “Learned how to do this just for you baby. Wanted to be good for our first time.” He smiled lazily, eyes dark with need as he got back to work, sending muffled groans into your bundle of nerves while you mewled loudly. Back arching with the curl of your toes before trying to pull away.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Gojo growled lowly, fingers digging painlessly into your flesh as he pulled you impossibly closer, tongue flicking at your clit before his lips closed around it. Sucking and swirling the sensitive bud into his mouth with a satisfied hum. All while you cried out above him, moans getting louder each time you called out his name.

It was like music. The sweetest song ever. Hearing you moan for him, moan out of pleasure, need, lust. Knowing that it was him making you feel so good. He almost came right there, determined to give you the best orgasm of your life with just his tongue. You tugged at his strands, your vision blurred in the nearing of your high.

“Satoru— o-oh fuck Satoru, ‘m gonna cum. Nngh, you’re gonna make me cum.” You moaned noisily, lewd slurps and sloppily kisses filling your ears as he made out with your wet pussy.

Gojo loved how much you were squirming, your legs tightening around his neck as you screamed. You actually screamed. He made you scream. His tongue was awaiting when you began to shake, toes curled and eyes rolled back as you squirted nonstop. The clear liquid gushing onto his face and tongue in long streams.

You whined at the overstimulation when he licked a stripe up your pussy. Collecting every last bit of your sweetness before standing up. You were panting, hard. And Gojo felt accomplished as he smirked. “Has any older man ever made you cum this hard baby?”

Your head was dizzy, trying to bring yourself back down to earth as you blinked up at him with the shake of your head.

He scoffed in pride, “Now try telling me that i’m too young for you now.”

Gojo was quick to lay you flat on the bed and crawl in on top of you. Consequences of your latest activities still fresh on his chin and chest. There were so many positions he wanted to take you in, but first he wanted to see you fall apart under him. See your face contort into one of pure bliss when he started pounding into you.

“You ready for me?” He husked, impressive cock already swiping up and down your slick filled folds. You nodded, looking up at him through your lashes with parted lips. “Ready.”

You both shared a drawn out moan when he nestled his cock past your tight entrance. Feeling him graze your gummy walls before reaching deep within you.

You felt so good, so tight.. warm. And he felt so deep, so big.. perfect.

“This pussy was made for me.” He grunted with a loud groan, slowly speeding up his pace till he was fucking into you with no end. Hips snapping into yours as his cock kissed your spot, prodding at your cervix with every hard thrust. “Fuck- look at how well you’re taking me. Fucking swallowing me all the way in.”

You only moaned in response, teary eyes meeting his sinful ones as he molded you around his cock. Making sure that you knew nothing but the shape of him, the feel of him, when you were done.

Letting out the whiniest cry, your arms reached up around his shoulders, clawing at his skin when you felt your stomach tighten.

You could feel him so deep, the roll of his hips allowing his fat tip to curl up and kiss exactly where you needed it most. The fast pace pulling short screams past your swollen lips.

“Satoru— haah, you’re so deep. I love it s’ much Toru. So m-much— ahh.” You couldn’t think straight, your brain only registering the way he was sliding in and out of you. It was all you could think about in that moment l, the way he felt.

Gojo watched you fall apart, just like he wanted. Your glossy eyes closing as your head fell further into the pillow, unable to control your noises as you got closer and closer.

“You don’t know how hot you look right now. I love seeing you like this. All for me.” His voice cracked, cock twitching in an aching cry to get its release.

“S-satoru, ‘m so close. Gonna cum again.” You choked out, nails piercing into his broad back as your hands roamed down.

“Yeah? Gonna make a mess f’ me again hmm? All that denying me, making me feel like our love was one sided. You put me through a lot you know.” He shook his head. “If only you knew the lengths i’d go for you.”

His eyes were crazed, and a shiver raked through your body at his words, whimpering as you succumbed to the building pleasure with a mewl. “O-oh fuckk.”

“Nuh uh, baby. Apologize to me first then you cum.” His tone was firm, serious. He wanted to hear you say it.

“Ahh, ‘m sorry Satoru— ‘m so so sorry. You’re goid enough f’ me. Mature enough. You’re perfect. Please let me cum. I need to cum.” You cried, the man on top of you pretending to ponder your words which went straight to his cock before smiling darkly. “Go ahead baby, cum for me.”

Your body shook as you yelled out his name, your surroundings becoming blank when you began to squirt messily, again. The intense orgasm seeming to stun all of your body’s systems as you failed to come back down. Gojo’s continued thrusts keeping pleasure flowing through your sensitive body.

“I love you so much baby. I always did. It makes me so happy that we can finally be together. Fuckk— ‘m all yours. All yours.” He buried his face in your neck, his own eyes closing shut as his body trembled, stilling inside your warmth before you felt his cum pumping into you in spurts. The thick substance coating your every wall in white.

“And now you’re mine.” He didn’t pull out, staying buried inside you in hopes of you two being connected forever. There was one thing he knew and you forgot. You hadn’t taken your birth control in a while, and a part of him hoped that you had seen this coming. That you wanted it. But one thing remained true either way, he was never letting you go.

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yanderenightmare · 5 months ago

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TW: noncon, yandere, omegaverse, subjugation, some type of sexism, angsty, also a little fluffy?

fem reader

Discussions about superiority and inferiority between Alphas, Betas, and Omegas have become more popular lately. It’s always been many people’s opinion that the weak should cater to those stronger than them—but a debate with that as its topic is unsavory. Unfortunately, they’ve found new ways to phrase it.

A resonating “Unmated Omegas are a danger to themselves!” garners much more sympathy…

And with the rise of people talking about it in the media, it was only natural to move the conversation into school as well.

You keep your head bowed in class as the chill runs down your spine. You feel the glare of thirty fellow students—the points of their teeth, too, and how they snicker under their breath. It’s always been rather scary being an omega, but you can’t say you’ve ever felt quite so alone.

The teacher’s an alpha, so why should he care how what he says impacts you? He’s preaching to the choir, and you’ve never had the right to sing. The three other Omegas in your class have all chosen to stay home. They probably have the right idea—wait it out until it all blows over.

But you don’t know when that might be… You don’t know if that will be.

Society is on the precipice of critical change—new politics, new laws, new systems, new rights that separate you from them. You wallow in fear of the outcome, lying awake at night and scrolling through the news under the safety of your duvet. The statements seem endless. You wonder, why are all politicians Alphas?

You don’t want any of the things they’re suggesting—mating homes to help you find the perfect Alpha to bond with, systematic pairings done from birth, auctions. Is no one going to suggest they put shock collars on all Alphas and Betas to keep them in check? They’re the ones who need to—

“Your scent is distracting the whole class—don’t you feel ashamed?”

It’s too easy for him to have you bent over the desk, your wrist on your back in his big fist as he wraps his tie around them. He and his goons stand around, all smiles—watching—enjoying it. It’s as if they’ve planned the whole thing, the way two of them peel away from the crowd to grab each their pick of your feet. Parting them, they use your own shoelaces to tie them to the desk legs.

The ringleader laughs. There’s an awful smell coming off him in waves—it makes you quiver. He flips your skirt up and whistles at the sight, showing everyone your ass and cotton undies. The bulge he presses against you is enough to make your tears spill despite how hard you’d fought to keep them at bay, knowing it only arouses them further.

“Aww, don’t cry, little bitch. You should be happy,” he coos, leaning over your trapped form to whisper right at your ear. “Don’t you know? You’ll never feel happier than you will bouncing on my big Alpha dick. It’s all your little Omega cunt dreams about, isn’t it?” He snickers, fiddling with his belt buckle—you flinch at every sharp clink as he jostles the metal. “Well, salvation is here—”

“Keep it to yourself.” Another voice breaks through the sounds of hollers and cheers.

Your eyes open to see him. You despise how your heart jumps in relief.

“Oi, you—” the guy at your back challenges, stepping away from you and toward the interruption.

“Yeah, me,” he states blankly, jaded. He eyes the rest of the guys with disinterest—five betas, zero threat—before telling them, “All of you. Scram.”

They all take a step to walk out as if his voice alone had compelled them, but then the previous guy interjects, making them stop in their tracks again. “Tch—you know what they’re saying. All unmated Omegas are free game, and I won this one. So back off.”

It was like watching a match of tug-of-war.

“Heh,” the intruder laughs. “That rule only counts for Alphas.”

You spot your aggressor's fists curl—there’s a growl rumbling in the back of his throat. “I am an Alpha, asshole.”

“Really?” he feigns, sizing him up with a cocky tilt of his head. “Couldn’t tell.” He doesn’t seem fazed in light of the aggression—actually, it seems to amuse him if anything. “To me, you smell no different from all these other Beta losers.”

He takes a casual step forward, hands in his pockets and a smile on his face—baring canines with grace.

“But if you wanna prove it, I’m ready when you are.”

It’s quiet after the declaration. The betas are unsure who’s side to pick, none of them eager to get caught in the middle. It becomes a competition purely between the two Alphas.

Without backup, your aggressor backs down and leaves.

“Thought so,” your savior jeers, showing the crowd out, closing and locking the door behind them.

It’s quiet after they’ve left.

You hide your face. Listening to his footsteps approach—he sighs when taking the place of the former guy. He doesn’t touch you, though.

“Y’know…” he starts. “That guy might be trash, but he isn’t wrong…” He picks up your skirt and drapes it back in place. “None of this would ever happen if you weren’t unmated.”

You speak through grit teeth. “Untie me.”

He chuckles familiarly at that, clicking his tongue at you. “What? Aren’t you gonna say please?” But he does what you say anyway. Squatting down, he starts with your ankles.

The scent of your fear still lingers in the air despite your tough act. You’ve always been so steadfast, ever since you were kids, even when it does you no good. He frees your feet—one, then the other, slowly—he even reties your laces into pretty bows before he’s done.

He remembers it being so obvious. The sun rose in the morning and the moon at night, and you were supposed to be an Alpha while he a Beta at best. You promised you’d be by his side to keep him safe forever, and he wanted nothing more.

But then puberty hit, and nothing was as you’d imagined.

He stands and unknots the tie keeping your wrists restrained.

You immediately push him off—already storming away.

“Do I get no thank you, no nothing? Always so stubborn—” He grabs your arm.

You spin around, an unnatural snarl on your face. “Let go!”

You’d have been a terrifying Alpha. But as fate has it, you’re not. And you shouldn’t act like it. It only lands you in trouble.

But he doesn’t say that.

“You been watchin’ the news?” he says instead, ignoring your cry and keeping a firm grip on your arm. “Seems like auctions are winning the voters. You know what that means?”

He feels you flinch, followed by a quiver. He can tell. No matter how good you are at hiding it. He can see—the way you’re fraying at the edges, barely holding it together. Always acting so strong. He can’t tell whether you enjoy torturing yourself or if you’re just that good at convincing yourself you’re fine.

“Pretty soon, new authorities are gonna come storming in here, roundin’ up every sorry unmated Omega they find, and put ‘em all on a farm where pompous Alphas can have their pick of the litter.”

He can never tell what you’re thinking, but he knows he doesn’t need to tell you any of this. You’re not stupid, you never have been. He knows you already know. But…

“You should decide now while it’s still your choice.”

You must be terrified. He understands. But truly… it’s obvious what you have to do, isn’t it?

“It’s not like you have many options.”

It’s obvious. It always has been.

You don’t meet his eyes. You haven’t for a long while. Actually, you haven't since both of you got your test results. He understands this wasn’t what you had in mind, but you can’t afford to mope about it forever—

“How am I supposed to choose any Alpha when you’re all such assholes…”

Your mutter stunts him. It wasn’t what he expected. Or, the words were more or less exactly something he’d expect from you, but that voice—quiet and soft, dangling on the brink of sweet. If you’d said anything else, he’d have taken it as a confession.

“Can't argue with that,” he ends up chuckling again.

You hate how easy this is for him. He would cry at every turn when you were kids. It’s unfair.

“But you can’t keep doing this, either,” he states. His voice is soft, paired with that ugly authority they all have when talking to you—talking down to you. “Just look where it gets you—scared and exhausted because of it. At least have the brains to stay home.” He says it as if it’s a joke, but you both know it isn’t. His chuckles are light—far from fullhearted.

He bends down, trying to find your eyes. He still holds onto your arm, knowing you’d sooner stomp away than listen to him. His other hand brushes your cheek gently, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“You hear the call from the rafters—it’s not about what you want anymore. It’s about what you need.”

That’s what they say, isn’t it? What you need. You want to slap him. Scratch him with claws, bite his throat out—make him choke on his own words. Need? What you need is for them all to fuck off.

You mean to say it with the same sentiment, but something hard and rough in your throat makes all your words come out wobbly. “Mate an Alpha to stay safe from other Alphas. What a joke.”

You bow your head further. The tears return. They burn as they trail down the sore streaks from before.

He’s never seen you like this. He won’t lie, it makes his pants tight—feeling the urge to suck your cheeks, hold you close and comfort you. But knowing you right, you’d probably never let him. Your face would probably scrunch up in disgust, punch his gut, knee his groin, then turn on your heel and leave him on the floor wheezing.

You really would have made the most terrifying Alpha.

“The world isn’t fair,” he agrees. “But you get nowhere cryin’ about it—do it my way, and you’ll never—”

“Have any freedom,” you cut him off with a sniffle.

It’s about the most adorable thing he’s seen in his life.

He gets why you don’t like Alphas—they’re all gross. He makes himself sick sometimes. He can’t believe he’s getting off on watching you have a mental breakdown. There’s something seriously wrong with his side of the species. His throat’s tight, mouth watery with the urge to reap your vulnerability.

Suppressing it only makes his inner beast furious. Some of that aggression comes out in his next words.

“I’m sorry, but the world doesn’t give a shit about your freedom.”

The grip around your arm tightens, and you look up in shock—watching his narrowed eyes through your watery ones.

“What you need is safety—now more than ever. Or do you like being preyed on by every Alpha around the corner?”

Your bottom lip trembles at the reality of it—a little while ago, you were almost—

“One of these days, I'm not gonna be here in time, and you’ll be a slave to some fucking—”

He huffs and hangs his head. His hand loosens up—it trembles where he holds you in place.

“In all honesty, I think I’m more scared than you,” he whispers under his breath. “I think I might kill—”

He stops himself again. You don’t know if it’s in an effort not to frighten you or himself.

“Speak about needs…” he begins anew, now softer. “I need to know you’re safe. I need to—” He looks up. His eyes are back to being round. “I need you more than you need me, probably.”

There’s a desperation on his face. It almost looks like he’s on the verge of tears himself.

“So… please?” he begs. “Will you keep me safe like you promised and stay by my side?”

Your tears dry and prickle. Looking into his eyes now, you see the same boy you knew back in your childhood—that one who’d chase you all over even when you’d call him a sniveling crybaby. You realize, Alpha or not, he hadn’t changed all that much at all.

“It’s not like you need my permission,” you end up saying.

You’ve always been so hard-headed. He has to smile. “No, but I want it.”

You nibble your lip. You can’t believe you’re at the mercy of this big dumb hunk of… you don’t have the words to describe him. He wasn’t exactly a crybaby anymore.

“Okay. You win.”

His eyes widen as you bear your neck with a stretch. Head high and shoulders slack.

You swallow thickly. “Get it over with.”

He shudders at the sight. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but now it almost seemed too soon.

“We should be supervised by a professional—you know how wrong things can go—”

“Hurry up before I change my mind.” Your eyes remain shut, and your lips pursed.

His tongue grows thick in his mouth at your bark. A sudden stroke of performance anxiety makes his palms sweaty, hands heavy and shaking. But then the sight of your soft neck has his mood shift, becoming drowsy.

He has no control over the growl that begins rumbling from his gut.

But he doesn’t apologize for it either.

He bends forward—breaths on your chest before he licks your throat. You can’t help but whimper at the warmth. He watches you through hooded eyes—your usually angry face is now all cute, riddled with anxiety you try hiding paired with the grim anticipation of pain.

“Shh,” he soothes, kissing the spot softly. He sways you against him, then lifts you up on the desk for you to sit. Grazing your neck with teeth when feeling your hands tangle two fistfuls of his shirt. He expects you to push him away, but you don’t—you tug him closer instead as if silently telling him to hurry up.

But he doesn’t want to rush, doesn’t want to lose himself—that’s how accidents happen. So he sticks to sucking gently, only tiny nibbles that leave your skin hot and lightly bruised in their wake.

You give a moan once he finds the spot, and he growls in restraint upon the pretty sound—feeling you relax despite being threatened with his teeth right at your artery. He almost humps your leg in return, feeling the boil of blood pump him hot and heavy in his pants—breaths turning equally hot and heavy, each one laced with rust.

Drool coated your neck in a cool sheen, soothing the marks made beneath it, while his lips and fangs aroused pleasure in the spot that now ached for the sting of his bite.

“Please,” slipped from your mouth while tugging him closer.

His eyes, completely drunk on the pretty prayer, had only a slim rim of color left surrounding the hungering bottomless pits, blown full and black with opium.

No one could come and take you away from him now. Not with his print so pretty on your neck. You were his—just as you were always supposed to be.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Natsuo, Amajiki, Mirio ♡ JJK – Yuji, Yuuta ♡ HQ – Kuro, Miya twins ♡ DS – Tanjiro, Zenitsu

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

3K notes · View notes

smileysuh · 1 year ago

Text

ghostie

🌙 staring. Johnny x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. As one am rolls around, you start to realize that maybe tonight you won’t get a call. He is a frat boy, and this is Halloween weekend. You’re disappointed as you get into bed, frowning as you scroll on your phone, hoping that if you wait another five minutes, maybe he’ll catch you. Five minutes turns into ten, turns into fifteen, and you find your eyes beginning to shut. You’re starting to understand how much you truly have come to depend on Ghostie as part of your nightly ritual. It hurts not to get a call from your favourite voice-modulated anonymous frat boy.

tw/cw. yandere/stalker subthemes, unknown caller, weed use, multiple reader orgasms, big dick!Johnny, oral, pussy eating, blowjob, deep throating, spit as lube, fingering, hand riding, dacryphilia, praise, dirty talk, cum/fullness kink, unprotected sex, heavy grinding, dick bulge, creampie, rough groping, slight restraint, size kink, submissive reader, subspace, dumbification, hair pulling, finger sucking, etc… I pet names: (hers) Tiny, good girl, pretty girl. (his) Ghostie.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 15k

🍭 aus. uni/frat au, yandere subthemes, Halloween, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. this might just be the best John fic I've ever written, or maybe I just need therapy

Sunday

You pause your movie when your phone rings and you look down at the screen. The number is unknown, and you briefly consider not even answering it. However, you’ve had two job interviews in the past week, and you don’t want to miss any opportunities, so with a sigh, you bring your phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Tiny, how’s your night going?”

Definitely not a prospective employer. Your sorority gave you the name Tiny during first year, something to do with the ‘tiny’ shots you always want to take, and only those within the Greek system use it on you. On top of the Greek-specific term of endearment, the man on the other end of the line is using a voice modulator of some sort, and it makes it impossible for you to identify him.

Your curiosity is sparked.

“Who is this?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You sigh, leaning back against your bed and setting your laptop to the side. “I get that Scream is having a comeback, but this whole ‘calling a girl and being mysterious’ thing won’t get you laid anytime soon.”

“Are you sure about that?” You can hear a hint of laughter in the man’s voice.

“If you’re not going to tell me who you are, I’ll hang up.”

“We wouldn’t want that, now would we?” There’s a pause then, “Let’s just say, a mutual friend gave me your number. They thought we’d hit it off.”

“Whoever this ungendered mutual friend is, I doubt they expected you to call me with a voice modulator and act out a Ghost Face fantasy. I get that Halloween is a week away, but come on… you can’t be serious about this.”

“I am serious. Come on Tiny, live a little.”

“You’re awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you, Mister Ghost Face.”

“I’ve got good reason to be, trust me on that.”

You let out a deep sigh, going through your roster of men who might think this sort of thing would be funny. “Yunho? Is this you getting high again?”

“Wrong frat, but good guess. I didn’t know Alpha Tappa Zeta’s star quarterback was a stoner, thanks for the info, Tiny.”

“Shit,” you mutter to yourself. You hadn’t meant to throw Yunho under the bus like that.

“It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone about his… habits. That would be hypocritical of me.”

You search your mind for the stoners you know. Ones who would have the balls to call you like this.

“Do you want to take another guess? I’ll give you three chances. You have two more.”

Aside from ATZ, you spend a lot of time with Sigma Veta Tau. Soonyoung is a well-known blunt roller in the fraternity system, but he wouldn’t do a charade like this. He’s very open about hitting on you any time you’re at one of his parties.

“Jeonghan?” you ask.

“Last guess, Tiny.”

He doesn’t confirm or deny if you’ve gotten the frat right, but you can’t really see any other SVT members who would fit this mysterious man’s profile.

Your mind wanders to Nu Chi Theta. They’ve got quite a few weed lovers there, and you’ve been invited into many closed-room smoke sessions with the dirty NCT boys.

There’s Yuta, and he’d definitely have the gall to entertain a flirtation like this. However, you don’t know of any mutual friends who would ever set you up with him. With another sigh of irritation, you throw out the last name on your shortlist of stoner acquaintances.

“Hyuck? Please tell me this isn’t you.”

“Close but no cigar.”

“I don’t like this game.”

“You’re not supposed to like it, but it is entertaining, don’t you think?”

“What’s your angle with all of this?” you question. “If you’re not going to tell me who you are, then what’s the point of calling?”

The line is silent for a few moments. “I guess… I just wanted to talk to you a little, is that so bad?”

Your heart softens, if only momentarily. “Then grow some balls and ask me out like a real man.”

“Where would be the fun in that?” The mystery man lets out a short chuckle, and your irritation only grows.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re really annoying?”

“A few times actually.”

“Well, you’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met and I haven’t even met you.”

“Yes, you have.”

“God, I’m tired of this. Goodnight.”

You don’t even wait for an answer, you simply hang up.

Despite trying to get back to your movie, you can’t get the mystery man out of your head. When you go to bed you can’t even sleep, your mind completely full of all the possibilities of who your caller could have been.

You’ll have to do some digging tomorrow. You can’t not figure out who this guy is- and you know just the fratboy to give you all the details you could need.

Monday

Mark Lee is always fifteen minutes early, even when it comes to an 8am class. You feel like shit after tossing and turning all night, so when you slide into the seat next to him in the back of the class, he gives you a once over and his lips part in shock.

“Are you okay?”

“No, Mark, I’m not okay,” you snap, regretting it a moment later- after all, Mark’s not the one doing this to you. “Someone called me from an unknown number last night. A frat guy, I’m not sure who. He was using this voice modulator-”

“That sounds hella sketchy.”

“Super sketchy,” you agree.

“I know it’s October and everything, but that’s a weird way to hit on a girl.”

“That’s what I said!” Mark always understands you. “He said a mutual friend gave him my number, thought we’d be cute together or something- whoever it was, I need to strangle them.”

“Is this friend a girl or a guy?”

“Mystery man wouldn’t tell me,” you groan.

“So… this dude could be literally anyone.”

“Not Yunho from Alpha Tappa Zeta, Jeonghan from Sigma Veta Tau, and not your roommate Hyuck. The guy gave me three guesses,” you explain, “the hint is that he’s a stoner.”

“Lots of frat guys are stoners.”

“Exactly,” you sigh, leaning back in your seat.

“What are you going to do if he calls you again?” Mark asks. “This kind of feels like stalker behavior.”

“It does,” you admit. “But at the same time, he calls me Tiny, and he says we’ve met before- when I asked what he even got out of the phonecall he said he just wanted to ‘talk to me a little,’ which, I don’t know, for some reason I feel like he’s not a stalker.”

Mark gives you a look that says ‘You’re crazy,’ and after listening to everything that just spewed out of your own mouth, maybe you kind of agree with him.

“So if he calls you again…” Mark reasks his earlier question, one you’d chosen to ignore.

But you can’t ignore it now, and you let out a deep breath.

“If he calls again… We’ll see what happens.”

“Tiny-”

“Mark,” you counter, knowing he’s about to chastise you. But you don’t want to hear it. If even he doesn’t have any idea of who your mystery caller could be, you simply can’t give up. If you never find out who this ‘Ghost Face’ dude is, you’ll feel unsolved for the rest of your life and you know it.

“Look, I’ll ask around a little,” Mark concedes.

You let out a squeal of delight, throwing your arms around your closet fratboy friend. He lets out a chuckle, gently squeezing you back.

Mark’s a good guy.

If only you were into good guys and not sleazy stoners calling you while getting a hard-on for being Ghost Face.

Monday pt 2

It’s nine o'clock and you’re starting to get tired while you study. You’re in need of a distraction, so when your phone rings with an unknown number, your heart practically jumps into your throat.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Tiny.”

“Wow, Mister Ghost Face,” you laugh, twirling in your spinny chair, “two nights in a row. You must really like me, huh?”

The laugh he lets out sounds genuine, even though his voice is obscured still. For some reason, the noise makes you grin, and you can’t believe you’re actually kind of having fun with this.

“I do like you,” the mystery man confirms. “Tell me about your day.”

“Tell you about my day?” You’re in shock.

“Uh huh.”

“No teasing or nothing? No three guesses about your identity?”

“I’ll tell you what,” he lets out a sigh, “like you said, Halloween is in a week. If you keep letting me call you until then, I’ll reveal myself when you come to the party.”

“The party?” you repeat. “You make it sound like there’s only one frat party on Halloween.”

“Only one worth going to.”

“Is that so?” He’s so cocky- why does that turn you on?

“Yup. In fact, I know you agree with me on this, because the past two Halloweens, you’ve come to my frat.”

Your body freezes. He’s just given you a massive hint-

“So you’re an NCT boy?”

“Wouldn’t call myself a boy, and neither would you if you saw what's in my pants.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, not sure how to even respond to the suggestive comment he’s just made.

The man on the other end of the line lets out a chuckle. “Sorry, I’m two blunts deep. I should watch what I say to you, that's why I asked about your day.”

“You don’t have to- watch what you say, I mean.”

“Yeah?” You can almost picture him leaning back in a chair, a large half-chub growing in his pants- “Are you getting horny from a mystery man on your phone? Dirty girl.”

“Dirty guy,” you counter, “trying to entice me by saying your dick is big.”

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?”

“I’m intrigued,” you admit, “but not only because of your cock.”

“It’s a nice cock.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you about my day,” you sidestep. “Had an early class with Mark Lee, you must know Mark.”

“Of course.”

“Well, he has no clue who you could be.”

“You talked about me.”

You can hear him smiling.

“I bet you couldn’t even sleep last night. Too busy trying to figure out who I am.”

Okay, maybe he is a bit of a stalker. Or maybe he just knows you well… who the fuck is this guy?

“Stop being so cocky,” you insist.

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Mark told me you’re probably a stalker, said I should maybe block your number.”

“I don’t have a number, if I did, that would be too easy for you. I’m an unknown caller… can you even block unknown callers?”

“I guess we’ll find out when I block you.”

“Won’t happen though. What did you do after your class with Mark?”

“Are you really that interested in my day?”

“I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t interested.”

He’s a cocky softy, who would have imagined.

You wonder what you ever did to make this guy so sweet on you- you’ve dated men who don’t even care to ask you how your day went, and this guy is out here doing it practically for free.

“Classes were okay, my sorority had a little fundraiser at lunch, we baked cupcakes.”

“They were good cupcakes.”

“Wait…” your stomach churns a little. “You stopped by?”

“I’m a sucker for cupcakes, and how cute your butt looks in blue jeans.”

You search your memory, counting how many NCT boys came through around lunch. You realize that there were far too many for it to do any good in deciphering which one is the man you’re currently talking to.

“Did we talk?”

“You talked to everyone who bought something. I’m not special.”

Except… he kind of is special, in a way you can’t truly explain… not yet anyways.

“Maybe you are a stalker,” you decide.

“I can promise you I’m not, but I bet you’d be kind of into it if I was.”

This guy makes you feel such conflicting emotions, you’re not sure how to even handle him.

“Look, I was studying when you called-”

“Right, you should get back to that.”

“I should.”

“Sleep tight, Tiny. It’s been nice talking to you.”

Part of you wants to return the sentiment, it feels second nature, but the words stop on your tongue. In all fairness, it hasn’t been particularly nice talking to the mystery Ghost Face guy.

Instead of saying anything else, you simply hit him with a “Bye,” and you hang up the phone.

However, you don’t get back to studying, you immediately call Mark.

He sounds groggy as he says “Hello?”

“Did I wake you?”

“No.”

“I just got a call from that guy again. He’s definitely one of your frat brothers, and he’s high right now.”

“That doesn’t narrow it down,” Mark sighs. “We sort of uh… all got high at the fire after dinner.”

“Mark Lee!” you screech.

“Sorry, sorry!” Mark groans. “I’ll uh… ask around some more. We’ll figure out who this dude is.”

“And if we don’t… he said he’d tell me who he is at your frat Halloween bash at the end of the week.”

It’s Monday now, and the party is on Saturday. That means you’ll only have to wait a few days… you can hold out for a few days… can’t you?

Tuesday

You read over the email a third time, but it doesn’t make anything better. The words ‘We regret to inform you that you have not been chosen for the position’ make your eyes begin to well with tears.

Quickly exiting your phone, you grab your things. You refuse to cry in the middle of the library-

The bathroom will have to do the trick, and you hurry to get there, holding back the choked sob that longs to slip out of you.

You’d thought for sure this interview would land you a job on campus. The interview had gone well, or so you’d thought.

You don’t even know why you’re getting so upset about this.

There’s just something so devastating about rejection.

You get to the bathroom quickly, shutting yourself into a stall before you allow the tears to fall again. You cradle your face in your hands, allowing the sadness to overwhelm you.

It’s important to have a good cry every now and again, and you definitely need this.

Your cries, however, are interrupted by your phone ringing in your pocket. Wiping at your face, you reach for the device, lifting it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Are you okay?”

“I really don’t have time for this right now, Ghost-” you groan, closing your eyes at the familiar voice-modulated sound.

“You do have time,” he insists. “Tell me what happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just saw you running through the library. Looked like you were crying.”

“I wasn’t crying!” you nearly yell.

“Liar. Come on, Tiny, let Ghostie make you feel better.”

The affectionate-sounding nickname prompts you to wipe your eyes. “Are you sure you’re not a stalker?”

“I was in the library, don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“Was?”

“I’m gone now, can’t have you figuring out who I am before Halloween.”

“Would it really be so bad if I did?” you question. “It would make me feel better.”

“Look at you, using your bad experience to try to swindle me,” you hear him laugh, and there are more sounds now, as if he’s walking across campus. “Seriously, Tiny, tell me what’s going on.”

“Do you always walk around campus with a voice modulator?”

“It’s an app on my phone babe, now answer my question.”

“You didn’t ask a question, you commanded me to tell you what happened, and I’m not taking commands right now.”

He sighs. “Will you please tell me what’s making you cry?”

Your lower lip trembles. “It’s stupid.”

“Nothing that hurts you is stupid.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“It looked like you needed a friend.”

“You’re not my friend. You’re some guy who got my number and gets hard by pretending to be Ghost Face from Scream.”

“I could be your friend. Could be more than your friend. And I’m not hard right now. Not after seeing you cry.”

You take a breath. “I applied for a job and I uh… they didn’t hire me.”

“Then they’re stupid.”

“Maybe I’m stupid.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I’m a girl who’s spent three days talking to a guy who keeps his identity a secret, and for some crazy reason, you’re actually making me feel better. That definitely makes me stupid.”

“No, it makes you soft. It’s one of the things I like about you.”

“Yeah?” you sniffle. “What else? And don’t say my ass in blue jeans.”

The man chuckles. “You’re soft, and kind. But you’re a fighter too. You’ve got a spark. Don’t even get me started on how smart you are-”

“And how would you know how smart I am?”

“For starters, you’re in the top-scoring sorority on campus,” he points out. “Whenever you come to trivia night, you wipe the floor with all of us. Mark talks constantly about how much you help him with his classes, which brings me to my next point, you care about charity. That’s a great sign of your character.”

“You do know a lot about me, don’t you, Ghostie?” His words have stopped your tears, and you cradle your phone close to your ear.

“Still not a stalker though.”

Now he even has you laughing. “Jury’s still out on that one.”

“You sound better already,” he muses. “Mark has a free block right now, I’m sure if you call him he’d take you for ice cream or something to distract you.”

“That’s a good idea,” you admit.

“I’m full of good ideas.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, Tiny.”

Tuesday pt 2

“This guy sounds like a full-on stalker,” Mark says for the sixth time as you grab ice cream and sit inside while a storm passes, rain splattering the windows.

“I mean, if he knew your schedule, I’m guessing he’s someone close to you.”

“He’s stalking us both, I don’t like it.”

“But he’s nice.”

“He’s stalking you, Tiny!”

“He’s not!” you insist. “A lot of people were at the library today… honestly, I think… I think Ghostie is kind of sweet.”

“Ghostie?!” Mark stares at you in shock. “You’re calling him Ghostie now?”

“It’s cute, right?”

“It’s crazy is what it is!” Mark leans back in his seat, frowning. “This is giving me the creeps.”

“Well, it’s spooky season.”

“If I’m being honest, I don’t think any of my frat brothers would pull crazy shit like this. They’re mostly pretty chill dudes.”

“So you think he’s lying about being in NCT?” you ask, cocking your head to the side.

“I think he’s definitely lying,” Mark confirms.

“Well, agree to disagree.”

Mark studies you for a moment. “Look, the only guy who’s a freak like this is Yuta and he swore up and down to me yesterday that he’s not calling you with a fucking voice modulator.”

“I don’t think this is Yuta.”

“Because you’re a Ghostie expert now, huh?” He scoffs loudly.

“Yuta’s not really a stoner,” you point out. “And besides, I can’t explain why I know it’s not him, I just have a feeling.”

��Yeah, is that feeling in your pussy by any chance?”

“Mark Lee!” you gasp, scandalized by his choice of words.

“Be real with me!” he insists. “You wouldn’t be entertaining this if it wasn’t… I don’t know, turning you on? Are you turned on by stalkers? Is this why you like Halloween so much?”

“Okay, maybe I am turned on, but that doesn’t make me a bad person.”

“It just makes you crazy,” Mark groans, running a hand through his hair. “I swear to God, when the dude reveals himself at the frat party, it better be one of my frat brothers and not a serial killer. And also, I’m going to fight him.”

“Something tells me he’d beat you,” you giggle.

“Now you’re trying to make me feel bad.”

“Says the guy who just called me crazy.” You grin, knowing that you’ve won.

“This whole thing is crazy.”

He has a point about that.

Wednesday

You’ve been waiting all day for a call from Ghostie, and it comes right before you’re about to head to bed. You practically launch yourself at your phone, putting it on speaker and saying “Hello?” as if you don’t know who’s on the other end of the line.

“Hey you, feeling better today?”

“You tell me, mister stalker.”

“I haven’t actually seen you today, it was a bit of a shame if I’m being honest.”

“Yeah?” God, this man has way too much power over you. “And why’s that, Ghostie?”

“Because I’ve been looking at your Instagram, but you’re cuter in person.”

“Do you follow me?”

“We’re mutuals.”

You’re mutuals with pretty much the entire NCT frat, it would have been more helpful if he’d said he’s not a follower, although, now that you think of it, that had always been unlikely.

“Still trying to figure out who I am, aren’t you, Tiny?”

“Of course.”

“Remember when I was listing your good qualities? Patience wasn’t one of them.”

“That’s so rude of you,” you say, although, you’re grinning at your phone.

“Here, I’ll make it better. I have an idea for you.”

“Let’s hear it then.” You get comfortable on your bed, wondering what he’s about to say.

“If you want a job, there’s this bar on campus, Skeets. Have you heard of it?”

“Who hasn’t heard of Skeets?” You roll your eyes.

“They let just about anyone work there. A few of the NCT guys are bartenders, I’m sure they’d put a good word in for you with the hiring manager, he’s also a member of the frat.”

You haven’t been to Skeets in ages, and you try to remember who you know amongst the staff. “Wait, you’re right- doesn’t Hyuck work there?”

“He does… This is the second time you’ve mentioned him, got something of a crush, Tiny?”

“Would that make you jealous?” you tease.

“I’m not the jealous type,” he states. “But yeah… it would.”

“Don’t get your Ghost Face mask in a knot, I don’t have a crush on Hyuck. In fact, if you turn out to be Hyuck and I find out you lied to me about your identity, I’m going to be really mad.”

“I’m not Hyuck.”

“Good.” You consider his proposition for a moment. “Do you really think they’d hire me?”

“It doesn’t hurt to try.”

“You know, on Sunday, if someone had told me you’d be helping me find a job not three days later, I would have said they were crazy.”

“Guess I like to keep you on your toes.”

“I think you just have a major soft spot for me. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I can’t. I promised not to lie to you.”

God, he makes you so giddy it’s insane.

“Are you going to come stalk me at Skeets if they give me a job?”

“Goodnight, Tiny.” He’s avoiding the question, and you can hear him grinning through the phone.

“Night, Ghostie.”

It’s the first time he’s the one to hang up on you, and it leaves you wanting more.

Thursday

Ghostie had assured you that Skeets hires just about anyone, but that doesn’t help the anxiety building inside of you as you prepare to take your resume into the bar.

You even do a Wonderwoman pose outside while waiting for Skeets to open, breathing deeply to psych yourself up while you go over possible interview questions just in case the hiring manager wants a chit-chat today.

“I love working in a team environment,” you say quietly to yourself, closing your eyes and running through responses. “The most important thing is that the guests feel welcome.”

The sound of something dragging across the cement ground has you practically jumping, lids flashing open as your head whips toward the noise.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt your mantra,” the tall fratboy laughs, setting up the wooden sign with the daily drink menu just in front of the door to the bar.

“It’s fine,” you assure him, swallowing thickly.

The man in front of you is Johnny Suh. He’s two years older than you, and you know him through Mark. When guys join a frat, they’re assigned a ‘Big,’ an elder frat brother to guide them through the process. Johnny is Mark’s big, and he’s always been nice to you whenever you’ve crossed paths.

You would call Johnny an acquaintance, not a friend, but he’s still a friendlier face than you may have expected to see upon your first moments interacting with Skeets staff.

“You coming inside, Tiny?” Johnny asks.

“Yeah, sorry John, one sec, I just need another deep breath.” You wave your hand at him, turning your back and gulping down air while you hold your bag tight to your front, the resume within practically burning a hole in the leather.

The hot fratboy heads back inside and you finish calming yourself down.

You can do this. You can get this job.

As you enter the bar that’s just open, you realize there are only a few staff members kicking around so far. Kim Jungwoo is rearranging chairs, and Lee Donghyuck is sitting on a table looking at his phone. Johnny Suh is behind the bar, and you decide you should probably talk to him, so you try to act confident as you walk through the small establishment.

Johnny’s brown eyes raise as you approach, and he offers you a small smile. “Tough day?”

“What?” You blink at him, settling against the bartop.

“You looked kind of off outside, and most people don’t come in to day-drink this early.”

“Oh, uh… I’m not here to day-drink.” You let out a tiny laugh. “Actually, I came to see if you guys were looking to hire new staff members, I brought my resume.”

You reach into your bag to pull out the papers, and you hand them over to Johnny.

His eyes scan the first sheet. “Wow, a cover letter, I’ve actually never seen one of these.”

People don’t apply with cover letters? The idea is kind of shocking to you.

Johnny hardly looks at your resume, setting it down in front of him to address you instead. “What makes you want to work at Skeets?”

“In all honesty, I need a job. I’m dependable, and I’ve got a decent schedule to work in the food service industry. I like working as part of a team, and I’m already friends with a lot of the staff here, so I thought it might be a good fit.”

Johnny nods, assessing you. “Have you bartended before?”

“I’ve got my qualifications to serve alcohol, but I’ve mostly had waitressing jobs,” you admit.

“At Skeets, we all do a bit of everything. Would you be open to learning how to mix drinks?”

“I’d be very open to it,” you nod.

“Then let’s give it a shot,” Johnny smiles warmly at you. “You’ve got good timing, we actually just had to let go of someone for excessive drinking on the job. I was going to put a wanted ad up today, but looks like that won’t be necessary.”

“Are you…” you swallow thickly, “are you serious? I’m hired?”

“Yeah, why not?”

You can’t help the squeal of delight that rushes through you, and a massive grin makes its way onto your face. You even jump a little, and Johnny seems to enjoy your excitement, smiling from ear to ear while you celebrate.

“When can you start?” he asks next.

“I can start tomorrow! I mean, if you need me that soon.”

“Tomorrow is a big night here at Skeets, the Friday before Halloween. We could use the hands, but it will be a busy one, do you think you can handle that?”

You’re quick to nod. “Of course. But I uh… I should let you know, I can’t work Halloween, I promised a friend I’d meet them at your frat for the party.”

“Don’t worry about Saturday,” Johnny assures you. “Sigma Veta Tau has their frat party tonight, so it’s all us NCT guys working, and tomorrow we’ll switch. As much as Seungcheol is a good comanager, I don’t trust him to teach you how to mix drinks on Halloween.”

“So… you’re going to be the main person training me then?” you ask.

“If you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself,” he confirms.

You can’t help but beam up at the tall frat boy, overjoyed at this turn of events. As cute as Johnny is though, part of you is excited to tell Ghostie about this when he inevitably calls you tonight.

Your life is definitely a little crazy.

“So, how about you come in tomorrow at seven?” Johnny suggests. “The bar will be open past midnight, but I figure I can show you a few things before it gets busy around ten, and then I can let you go early.”

“I’ll be here at seven.”

“And when it comes to what you’re wearing, we’ll give you a Skeets t-shirt,” he pulls at the black fabric stretched tight across his broad chest. “Other than that, you can wear any color of jeans and some sneakers.”

“Perfect.”

“You’ll be paid for the training shift, I’ll tip you out in cash, and if it goes well, we’ll get your banking details at your next shift after that,” Johnny explains. “I’ve got your number here on your resume, so I’ll be in contact with you on Sunday, how’s that sound?”

“Sounds like a dream.” You literally can’t stop smiling.

“Tiny’s going to learn to mix,” Johnny says fondly, “Mark’s going to love this.”

You already feel close to Mark’s big, and the opportunity to work with him is a good one. Johnny is one of the more well-known nice guys at the frat. Sure, he’s got a little bit of a dangerous edge to him, just based on his massive stature alone, but he’s generally a big softy bear.

“Thanks again for this, Johnny,” you beam. “I won’t let you down.”

Thursday pt 2

“Hyuck said our favorite Tiny sorority princess got herself a job today.”

“Hello to you too, Ghostie.”

“I wanted to cut to the chase and congratulate you.”

“I wouldn’t have gotten the job without you,” you admit. “So… thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” your mystery man says, and you can hear that classic grin of his. “I’m sure you got it on your own merit.”

“Apparently no one’s ever brought a cover letter with their resume before.”

“They must have been impressed.”

“Hired me on the spot.”

“That’s my girl.”

Your insides flutter. You like the way it sounds when he calls you his girl. “How about your day, Ghostie? Stalk any new girls?”

He laughs. “Only one girl worth stalking, which, I don’t do, by the way.”

“Sure you don’t.”

“My day was long,” he says finally.

“Yeah, it’s nearly midnight, I was thinking about going to sleep but…”

“But you wanted me to call,” Ghostie finishes your sentence for you.

“When you say it like that it sounds kind of depressing.”

“It’s not depressing, Tiny, it’s cute.”

“Cute?”

“I like that you’re getting used to me.”

“You know… if you decided not to show up to the Halloween party- if you never called again, I think… I’d wonder who you are the rest of my life.” It’s a moment of vulnerability, and your heart races in your chest while you wait for his response.

“I wouldn’t do that to you, Tiny,” Ghostie promises. “I’ll find you on Saturday, and not in a stalker way.”

“What costume are you going to be wearing?”

“If I tell you, you’ll just show up and scour the whole place looking for me.”

“You know me too well, don’t you, Ghostie?”

“What are you going to wear, pretty girl?”

You literally kick your feet at the term of endearment, body buzzing. It takes a moment to collect yourself. “Honestly? I’ve got a Ghost Face mask hanging around somewhere.”

“And here I was being told I’m the one who gets hard pretending to be Ghost Face.”

“Well… even though I don’t know you, not really, I think I got that one pretty accurate, didn’t I?”

“Maybe a little.”

“I thought you said you were big,” you tease.

“Okay, maybe a lot.”

You bite at your lip. After the great day you’ve had, it’s difficult not to feel flirty. “Are you hard right now, big guy?”

He groans, and even under the voice modulator, something tells you the sounds he makes are sexy as fuck. You can feel your panties getting wet. It’s dirty, but in the best possible way.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you grin.

“You’re being bad, Tiny.”

“Says the guy who’s literally hard right now.”

The other end of the line is silent for a moment. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything.”

“What if… when we meet, you’re not interested in me?”

Well, this has just taken a turn. How did you go from horny thoughts to insecurity?

It’s a valid question though, one you should have asked yourself by now, but for some reason you haven’t. You think about it for a few seconds.

“I feel like… I know it’s been less than a week of talking but, you’re not like any other guy I’ve ever met. And not just because you’re calling with a voice modulator.” You let out a laugh. “You ask how my day is, and you care to hear my answer. You even helped me get a job, which is crazy to think about. For some weird reason, I think when I meet you, the emotional connection is already kind of there, so no matter what you look like, you’ll be more attractive to me.”

“You really think so?”

“I mean, NCT is known for having hot guys, so I’m not sure who you could be that would turn me off. There are only a few NCT guys I’d say a hard no to at the moment.”

“Yeah? Who?”

“Well, Doyoung and I have never gotten along, but I know you’re not him because he doesn’t touch weed. I dated Jeno for about a week, and I know enough about him to know I don’t want to do anything with him ever again, and also, that you’re not Jeno because he’d never ask me how my day was going-”

“What an asshole.”

You laugh. “All things considered, Ghostie, I think you’ll do just fine.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Is this why you’ve been doing the whole voice modulator thing? You’re worried I won’t be interested in you?”

“It’s one of the reasons,” Ghostie admits. “I also worried that if I did hit on you, you might think I was only trying to get you into my bed, which, yeah, it would be nice, but… as perfect as your body is, it’s not the most interesting thing about you.”

What a scrumptious take; A guy calling you up and using anonymity to prove to you that this connection isn’t only about sex.

Your heart softens.

“Ghostie, you might be one of the sweetest guys I know,” you admit.

“More than your best friend Mark Lee?”

You laugh. “Maybe not, Mark would never do something like this. You’re a bit of a paradox that way, aren’t you?”

“If you say so, Tiny. As much as I’ve liked this talk, I think I should let you sleep. Halloween is two days away and I’m sure we’ve both got a lot to do before then.”

“What if I don’t want you to go just yet?”

“Then I’d remind you that patience is a virtue.”

“You’re such a tease.”

“Good thing we have an emotional connection so you’ll forgive me for it. Night, Tiny.”

“Night, Ghostie.”

Friday

Your first shift consists of shadowing Johnny. He’s a fabulous teacher. He’s calm, patient, and very encouraging. The first few hours are a breeze, but the bar gets increasingly packed as the night goes on.

It’s a little overwhelming, but Johnny helps keep you steady. He gives you the easy drink orders, things like beer and simple cocktails. While you’re filling a cup from the beer tap, he’s busy mixing five to ten different things into one glass for items on the Halloween special menu.

There’s something sexy about a diligent worker, and his beefy arms are all bulgy and hot in his tight Skeets shirt. You can tell that a lot of girls come up to the bar specifically to order from him. There are two other bartenders, but Johnny’s line is notably the longest.

You’ve had your own share of interested men pop over to say hi. There are very few frat boys here tonight, as there’s a party in full swing in the Greek village, so most of the guys coming up to grab a beer from you are people you don’t know.

Many of them are dressed up in costumes, and it’s interesting to try to guess some of the more obscure clothing choices.

Anytime you see a man in a ghost costume, your mind shifts to your mystery caller. You wonder if he’ll pop by tonight- but other than the men already working with you, no NCT boys walk through the front door.

No Ghostie.

There’s not one second of reprieve, but staff need breaks, and finally, just before midnight, Johnny pulls you both for a breather.

“Are you sure the others can keep up while we’re gone?” you ask, looking back at the swamped bartenders.

“They can manage,” he assures you, guiding you through the back staffroom to a door that leads to an alleyway behind the bar. “I know I’ve kept you on longer than I thought, but it’s just been so busy. How are you holding up?”

The cool night air is a drastic difference from the heat and humidity inside, and you take a deep breath, closing your eyes and enjoying it. “I’m doing alright,” you tell him. “You’re the one making the difficult drinks.”

“I’ve been mixing cocktails for years,” he brushes it off, reaching into his back pocket.

“Well, it shows.” You watch to see him pull out a rolled joint, and next comes a lighter.

“Want some?” he asks, lifting the joint to slot between his perfect lips.

“Are we allowed to smoke on the job?”

“Hyuck was prescribed Vyvanse last year, so he’s practically on coke all shift,” Johnny grins, lighting the end of the joint and taking a puff. “Besides,” he lets out a deep breath of smoke, “in the service industry, sometimes you need a little buffer.”

Skeets really is a chill place if the hiring manager smokes weed on breaks with subordinates.

“I didn’t realize you were a stoner,” you muse.

“Most of us frat boys are,” Johnny admits, pulling the joint from between his lips. It’s placed casually between two fingers, and his other hand ruffles through his pretty hair. “It’s a nice night.”

“It is,” you nod, looking up at the sky. Stars are twinkling in the dark

“I’m glad you joined the team, not sure we would have been doing so well without your extra set of hands.”

“I’m really grateful to have been given a trial shift,” you smile softly.

“Well, just so you know, it’s more than a trial shift. You’re hired.” He nudges your shoulder gently, and your grin only grows.

“Thank you.”

Johnny takes another drag from his joint. “Sure you don’t want a puff?”

“I really shouldn’t-”

“I’m going to let you go home pretty soon after this,” Johnny tells you. “So it won’t affect your performance that much.”

You wonder if this is a test, but… at the same time, you don’t think Johnny’s the type of guy to test you this way.

You give in, accepting the joint and bringing it to your lips. It’s been a while since you smoked one of these, and your first tiny hit leaves you coughing, passing the joint back to Johnny while you try to catch your breath.

He grins while watching you, and you get the sneaking suspicion that Johnny thinks you’re cute.

“Thank you,” you say, coughing again.

“You’ve got good manners, don’t ya, Tiny?”

You nod, wiping at the tears that have formed in your eyes from the smoke.

“Who... who do you usually smoke with?” you ask.

“Why? You a cop?” Johnny jokes.

“No, it’s just uh… God, I could tell you the whole story but you wouldn’t even believe me if I did,” you find yourself laughing. “Just… I didn’t know you smoked, so, I’m wondering if maybe there are a few other guys in your circle who do too.”

Johnny looks you up and down. “Like I said earlier, Tiny, almost all us frat boys partake in mari-ju-ana.”

It’s clear he’s not going to give you any information that could help you figure out who your Ghostie is. You suppose you really will just have to be patient.

In less than twenty-four hours, you’ll be finding out who your mystery caller is, and the suspense is absolutely killing you.

Friday pt 2

It’s twelve thirty when you finally get home, and you’re very tired. But at the same time, you’re awake. You take your time getting ready for bed, ignoring the loud party sounds outside and around the frat village while you wait for a call from Ghostie.

As one am rolls around, you start to realize that maybe tonight you won’t get a call.

He is a frat boy, and this is Halloween weekend.

You’re disappointed as you get into bed, frowning as you scroll on your phone, hoping that if you wait another five minutes, maybe he’ll catch you.

Five minutes turn into ten, turn into fifteen, and you find your eyes beginning to shut.

You’re starting to understand how much you truly have come to depend on Ghostie as part of your nightly ritual. It hurts not to get a call from your favourite voice-modulated anonymous frat boy.

You try to self-soothe by assuring yourself you’ll meet him tomorrow, but it doesn’t really help.

Tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable, you fall into a blissless sleep.

Saturday

You’re groggy when you open your eyes, but you still go to check your phone. There’s a missed call notification from an unknown number at three am, and suddenly you’re wide awake, bolting up in bed.

“Hey, Tiny, it’s me.”

As if it could be anyone else.

“Sorry I didn’t get a chance to call you last night. I was pretty swamped with Halloween stuff. But if it makes you feel any better, you were definitely on my mind.”

Here you are kicking your feet again.

“Probably won’t get a chance to talk to you until the party, I really do hope you come… in uh… more ways than one.”

God, he makes you wet.

“I get it if you’re a little mad at me for not calling earlier, and I promise to make it up to you when I see you, if you’ll let me.”

He’s so oddly respectful.

“But I get it if you don’t want to do anything at the party. I’ve enjoyed talking with you this week, and if that’s all it’s going to be then I won’t hold it against you. Anyways, goodnight, see you soon.”

Saturday pt 2

You feel cute tonight. You’d taken your Ghost Face mask off almost as soon as entering the frat, but the little black dress you’re wearing is enough to capture a lot of attention.

Every frat boy that comes up to you makes your heart race, but none of them reveal themselves as your Ghostie.

You’re actually beginning to get a little frustrated, and after two hours of floating around hoping to find your mystery man, you head with Mark to his room for a break.

Mark’s roommate, Hyuck, is sitting on his bed, bong already out and resting on one thigh while scrolls through his phone. He looks up when you enter, smirking. “Finally, smoking buddies.”

“You texted me like two minutes ago to come up here,” Mark rolls his eyes. “Have some patience.”

“Not in my nature,” Hyuck insists, setting his phone down and reaching for his lighter. “First hit is mine.”

As if you expected anything less.

You watch him inhale the thick cloud of smoke, holding it for a moment in his lungs before he lets out a deep exhale. “Fucking hell, he groans, that was a good hit.”

Mark takes the bong and Hyuck falls flat against the bed, closing his eyes and smiling.

“So have you found your stalker yet, Tiny?” Hyuck asks.

Your gaze flashes to Mark. “You told him?”

“He was curious why I was asking for a stoner list,” Mark defends himself.

“Whoever the dude is, he’s got balls,” Hyuck says wistfully.

There’s a knock on the door, and Jaehyun pokes his head inside. “Heard we’re smoking?”

“Yeah, come in!” Hyuck waves his hand, still collapsed on his bed.

The door is pushed open wider, and you catch sight of Johnny standing behind Jaehyun. Your new hiring manager flashes you a wink as they enter, and the door is shut firmly behind them. Jaehyun goes to sit with Hyuck, but Johnny approaches you, taking the seat next to you on Mark’s bed.

“How’s your night going?” Johnny asks.

“She’s waiting for her stalker to come kidnap her and fuck her brains out,” Hyuck says loudly.

“Your stalker?” Johnny laughs.

“Some guy has been calling her all week,” Mark tries to explain.

“It sounds worse than it is,” you insist, feeling the need to defend Ghostie. “He’s only a little perverted.”

“And you’re into that sort of thing?” Jaehyun questions, cocking his head while Mark takes a puff from the bong and hands it over.

“Not usually,” you admit. “But… this guy is different.”

“You don’t even know what he looks like,” Mark groans, collapsing in his desk chair and running an anxious hand through his hair.

“That doesn’t matter,” you insist.

“Fucking girls, dude,” Hyuck laughs, sitting up and watching Jaehyun smoke from the bong. “You know what we need?”

“More weed?” Mark suggests.

“Yes, but also, shots.” Hyuck’s eyes shift to Johnny. “Not the shit from downstairs. The good stuff.”

Johnny lets out a chuckle. “You want something from my secret stash?”

“The tequila you brought back from Mexico,” Hyuck nods.

Jaehyun lets out a puff of smoke, holding the bong out for Johnny, who shakes his head.

“You’re not taking a hit?” Jaehyun asks, staring at Johnny in hazy shock.

“Not tonight,” Johnny responds. Then he turns to you. “If neither of us are taking a crack at the bong, how about you come help me grab the tequila?”

“Careful, John,” Hyuck teases, “She’s not interested in you, she only has eyes for this Ghostie dude.”

Mark shoves Hyuck’s knee and Johnny simply grins. “Come on Tiny, you don’t want to get secondhand high on a night like this.”

He’s right about that, and you stand with him, heading to the door. Johnny’s so tall and broad, and you try not to stare at his shoulders, but it’s extremely difficult not to appreciate his large form.

“What’s your costume?” you ask.

“Oh, this?” He pulls casually at his black tshirt. “I’m a serial killer, they look like everyone else.”

“Very original,” you laugh, falling into step with the tall fratboy as you make your way down the crowded hall.

“My room is on the top floor,” he tells you, heading to the stairwell and holding the door open for you. “I like your dress, by the way.”

“Thanks, it goes with this.” You hold up the Ghost Face mask to show it to him, and his grin widens while you climb the stairs.

“You’re gonna have to let me try that on.”

“I’m uh… I’m actually saving it for Ghostie to try,” you admit, feeling a little silly with how loyal you’re being to your mystery caller.

“He’s a lucky guy,” Johnny muses.

“Here’s to hoping it goes well,” you sigh.

Johnny doesn’t respond to your comment, and as you reach the top floor he guides you three rooms down, using a key to unlock the door before he holds it open for you. “After you, Tiny.”

The space is the same size as Hyuck and Mark’s, but it only has one bed. “I didn’t realize they had single rooms here,” you say, looking around.

“There’s only a few, and I’ve got seniority,” Johnny explains. He closes the door behind him, walking over to the large closet.

You take in the decorations. It’s unmistakably a frat boy's room, but much cleaner than you’re used to. There’s a gaming station, and a mini fridge that you’d guess is full of beer. A clothing rack shows off some of Johnny’s more sophisticated tastes.

You’re curious about what else he has in his stash, so you join him by the closet, peeking inside. “We’re looking for tequila right?”

God, he has a whole shelf full of expensive bottles of booze.

“Uh huh,” Johnny nods. “Should be in the back here somewhere.”

“Isn’t this tequila?” you ask, pointing to a bottle he’s brushed past.

“Close,” Johnny flashes a grin at you before continuing to rummage, “but no cigar.”

You freeze.

It’s been nearly a week since your first interaction with Ghostie, but you remember that interesting turn of phrase like it was yesterday.

But- it can’t be.

Johnny can’t be your mystery caller-

Can he?

“Found it,” Johnny announces, pulling an immaculate bottle of tequila out. His gaze lands on you. “You alright, Tiny? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I mean… have I?”

He cocks his head. “What do you mean?”

“You’re…” You swallow thickly. “Are you my Ghostie?”

Johnny meets your gaze with a steady look. “Does it upset you?”

It’s not a clear confirmation, but it’s a confirmation nonetheless.

You stare at him in absolute shock for a moment. He looks insanely gorgeous tonight, all broad, with his pretty lips- without even knowing what you’re doing, you find yourself throwing your arms around him and burying your face against his chest.

Johnny freezes, obviously startled by the sudden contact, but then he’s wrapping you in a tight embrace. One of his hands finds the back of your head, and he cradles you close.

Neither of you say anything, you simply hold each other while you come to terms with everything.

He’s so stupid for ever thinking you wouldn’t want him-

You do want him. You want him so bad-

Pulling away from his chest, you tilt your chip up, reaching for his face. You cup his cheek while you move on your tiptoes to press your lips against his.

He appears just as shocked at this movement as when you’d hugged him, but he eases into it all the same, kissing you back gently.

But you don’t want gentle, you want him.

You’re pent up from a week of teasing, and you shift in his embrace, wrapping both arms around the back of his neck while you glide your tongue against his lip.

Johnny lets out a groan, his mouth opening for you while his hands slip down to tug your waist closer.

The kiss deepens and now it’s your turn to release a moan, pressing your tits closer to his chest. He feels like heaven against you, and his lips are absolutely magic. His tongue glides gently against your own. You can taste beer, but it’s not unpleasant, in fact, it turns you on even more.

You thread your fingers through his hair, dragging your nails against his scalp-

“Fuck,” Johnny mutters against your mouth.

Then he’s bending down, hands grabbing at your ass and prompting you to jump. You wrap your legs around his hips and he carries you effortlessly, closing the distance to his bed.

Instead of tossing you down, he sits on the mattress and suddenly your knees are digging into his charcoal duvet. You’re on top, fingers in his hair, your tongue licking at his lip, and you’ve never felt so powerful.

It gives you the confidence to wiggle your hips a little, and you’re pleased to find he’s already growing hard in his jeans. God, he feels big- and your pussy throbs at the idea of what you’re going to do to him tonight.

You’re in a dress, and your panty-clad core feels delightful against bulging denim. Johnny’s grabbing at your bare thigh, kneading your flesh, and it makes you moan desperately. Not only is he skilled with his tongue, but his hands seem to know what they’re doing too.

Suddenly he’s grabbing at your hair, tugging you so you arch your head back, giving him access to your throat. His mouth feels amazing as he begins to lick and suck on your neck, finding your sweet spot way too easily-

“Who-” You swallow thickly. “Who gave you my number?”

Johnny laughs against your skin, pulling away to look up at you with dark eyes. “Mark did.”

“Mark?!” You’re in absolute shock now.

“Gave it to me during finals last year,” Johnny explains. “But… we both had busy summers and…” one of his hands sneaks down to guide your hips, helping you grind against him, “I guess I wasn’t sure how you felt about me.”

“You’re crazy!”

“Maybe a little,” he admits. “I’m also Mark’s big, and it’s not like you and I have ever been close.”

“But you’ve liked me for a while, haven’t you, Ghostie?”

He groans at the nickname, looking up at you with eyes full of wonder. “Longer than you know.”

You wish you could say you’ve felt the same- but in all honesty, you have always seen him as Mark’s big. As an older fratboy dad type-

The way he’s acted with you this week has inklings of that protective daddy personality you know and enjoy, but… he’s not been particularly dad-like. He’s shown you a new side of himself, and you’re so fucking happy he did.

“You know, when Mark finds out you’re my stalker he’s going to flip.”

“I wasn’t stalking you,” Johnny insists, grinning up at you as he applies more pressure to your hips, making you grind against him harder.

“God, you even hired me for a job-”

He laughs. “It wasn’t favoritism, you had a cover letter, the bar owner was even impressed.”

“You’re so bad- this whole time you’ve been mind fucking me. I would have never guessed my Ghostie worked at Skeets.”

“Well, I do have a minor in psychology,” he admits. “Figured the best place to hide is in plain sight.”

“You even smoked a joint in front of me and I never guessed-”

“Yeah, I was playing with fire with that one,” Johnny laughs.

“It’s funny. I was so busy thinking about being loyal to Ghostie that I was trying not to check you out last night.”

“And I’m so lucky to have you. You wouldn’t even let me put on your Ghost Face mask, so busy saving it for Ghostie.”

“Saving myself too,” you note, grinning down at him.

“Yeah?”

“We’ve talked every night since Sunday- I haven’t cum in over a week.”

“Fuck, Tiny,” Johnny groans. “I guess I better help you out then.”

“Really? How are you going to do that?”

“I’ll let you stay on top for a while, let you grind against me until you’re begging for me to tear your dress off.” He pulls at the strap on your shoulder. “Then, I’ll flip you over, get on my knees, and eat you out like the good girl you are, stretching you open with my fingers.”

“And then?”

“When you’re shaking and delirious from cumming, I’ll fuck you right. Bet you’ve never really been fucked right before.”

God, you definitely haven’t. At least- you know you’ve never been fucked the way Johnny is about to fuck you.

“What if I already want you to tear my dress off?” you ask, grinding down against his cock.

Johnny lets out a low groan, grinning at you. “Tiny, you’re nowhere near begging yet.”

“I’m not?” You lean forward, pressing a kiss to his throat before your teeth drag against his earlobe. “Please, Ghostie, I’m already so fucking wet, you wouldn’t believe it-”

He laughs, hand finding your hair again. He tugs you away from his neck, pressing his lips to your own and kissing you hard.

He takes your breath away. His tongue is perfect, licking and tasting- making you moan loudly while you work your hips, swiveling on his denim-covered cock.

“Fuck, Ghostie, you’re so fucking big-”

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he promises, grabbing a fistful of your ass and squeezing so hard it almost hurts. But the pain is wonderful, and you cry out in ecstasy, working yourself harder against him.

If it wasn’t for his enticing cock, you think you could make out with him like this forever.

You just want to be naked, so you grab at your dress, intent on lifting it off-

Johnny stops you. “I’ve told you patience is a virtue, haven’t I, Tiny?”

You groan in annoyance. “John, please-”

“Ghostie,” he corrects you.

You don’t even care- you simply grab his hand, guiding it between your legs. His fingertips brush over your soaked panties, and you gasp at the feeling of him, immediately grinding down, looking for relief.

“Fuck-” you moan, closing your eyes and throwing your head back.

He begins to circle your clit through your thong and you’re forced to grab at his shoulder to steady yourself, whimpering loudly.

“Shit, Tiny, you’re so fucking pretty,” he whispers.

“I need you,” you gasp, feeling an orgasm already bubbling in the pit of your stomach. “Please, move my panties to the side-”

Johnny doesn’t question you this time. He pulls your thong away, easily burying two large fingers into your wet, needy core.

Now you’re really gasping. You lean forward, wrapping both arms around his strong shoulders and burying your face against his throat. “Oh my God, Ghostie- don’t stop-”

“You’re going to cum from this, aren’t you, pretty girl?”

You nod desperately, swiveling your hips so your clit can rub against the palm of his hand while his fingers work you open.

“So good,” you whimper. “So fucking good-”

Johnny groans, curving his fingers and stroking your gspot.

You squeal in his lap, thigh muscles clenching while your pussy begins to throb around the foreign intrusions. You’re so close to the edge you can almost taste it.

“Want you to cum for me. Wanna hear your sounds while you drip down my hand.”

Fuck, he’s way too sexy, voice all low and seductive. He’s breathing hard, and you can tell you’re turning him on just from riding his fingers-

“Come on, Tiny, who’s my good girl?”

“I am-” you gasp, digging your nails into his shoulders as your orgasm hits you straight on.

You moan loudly, burying your face against Johnny’s neck. You’re panting against his skin, wiggling your hips while his fingers continue inside of you, driving you absolutely insane. Waves of pleasure are overtaking your form, and your mind is completely blank, overwhelmed by the feeling of ecstasy that Johnny provides for you.

“That’s it,” Johnny encourages you. “So fucking good for me.”

You’re shaking on his lap by the time your high is over, and you press wet kisses to his throat, earning groans from your Ghostie.

You reach down for your dress, lifting it up and off your body. Johnny pulls back, watching you with dark eyes. He takes his fingers out of your wet pussy, bringing them to his lips to clean. But he’s not done there, as you toss the fabric to the floor, Johnny offers you his digits next.

You lock eyes with him for a moment before leaning forward and accepting, taking his wet fingers into your mouth and helping suck them clean. You groa at the taste of yourself. Johnny watches the motion, his free hand finding your hip and forcing you to grind down against his cock.

“You’re so hot, Tiny,” he says, removing his fingers from your lips.

“Wait till you see me naked,” you grin, reaching behind yourself to undo your bra.

It falls away easily, and Johnny’s large hands cup your breasts almost immediately. His head dips, eyes taking in your newly exposed skin. “Fuck, how does a girl get this perfect?”

“How does a guy get a massive cock like yours?” you counter, rubbing yourself against the front of his jeans.

“Touche,” he chuckles, leaning down to lick your nipple.

You thread your fingers through his hair, guiding him to show more affection to your chest, which he’s more than happy to do. His large hand cups your right breast while he worships your other with his mouth, suckling on your nipple. His teeth drag gently against the sensitive bud and you moan loudly, rocking your hips all the while.

“As much as I’d love to keep sucking on your tits,” Johnny sighs, lips moving up your throat again, “I’d rather be between your legs.”

“Ghostie, do whatever you want to me,” you instruct, feeling delightfully submissive.

“You got it, Tiny.”

In one easy motion, he flips you so your back is on the bed. Johnny pulls away from you, sinking to his knees at the edge of the mattress before grabbing you and tugging you closer. He tears his own shirt off, giving you a great view of muscles that make you even wetter. Then he grabs your panties, sliding them down your legs so you’re completely bare for him now.

Johnny doesn’t say anything, he simply licks his lips and dives into you. His tongue parts your folds, dipping inside to taste your walls while your legs shake around his head. “Fuck, Ghostie-”

You reach down to grab his hair, applying enough pressure to his head to let him know you’re enjoying what he’s doing… if he can’t already tell from your desperately needy moans.

His lips move to suction on your clit and a squeal escapes you, your back arching slightly at the sensation.

You’re sensitive from having cum already, sensitive from having not cum all week only to be getting this much attention now. But you’re also probably sensitive because this is Johnny, because there’s been a build-up that’s left you ready to pop, and he seems intent on making you pop multiple times for him.

“Oh my God,” you whimper, eyes closed, abdominal muscles tensing with effort as his skilled tongue works you up again.

Johnny groans against your pussy and it’s one of the sexiest things that’s ever happened to you. Your grip on his hair tightens, your core throbbing with pleasure already.

When he adds two fingers into your dripping hole, you know you’re not going to last, but you don’t think he wants you to.

In fact, you’d bet that Johnny himself is just about ready to explode. You can’t believe he doesn’t have his cock out yet- can’t believe he’s so intent on making you cum twice before getting any satisfaction for himself.

“Fuck, Ghostie-” You want to tell him how close you are to cumming, but you can hardly get the words out between your moans. “I’m- holy shit-”

Johnny finger fucks you even harder, his mouth focusing on your clit, and you’re pretty sure he’s understood your garbled attempt to warn him, pretty sure he wants you to cum.

You allow yourself to find your release, your back arching again as you tug on Johnny’s hair, keeping his face between your legs. You grind down slightly, your body chasing your orgasm as it surges through you like fire in your veins.

Johnny lets out a low groan again, and your entire body twitches at the extra stimulation. You’re gasping now. Nothing has ever felt this good-

To his credit, Johnny tries to help you through your entire orgasm, but he pulls away before you’re truly finished. You can feel him panting against your pussy, and when you open your eyes to look down at him, you find Johnny staring at you with the horniest expression you’ve ever seen on a man.

“Ghostie-” you whimper, shifting against his duvet.

“Condoms,” he says, pulling his fingers out of your core and standing up.

“I’m on birth control,” you tell him quickly, making him freeze. “And if we’re both clean-”

Johnny practically moans at the idea, looking down at your body. “Does my Tiny want to be filled up all nice and good?”

Now it’s your turn to groan, and you nod, licking your lips. You sit up next, feeling your skin heat at the words you want to say, “I also… I wanna suck you off first.”

Johnny approaches the bed again, towering over you. It’s hard to focus on his eyes when his abs and strong biceps and veiny forearms are drawing your attention, but when he cups your jaw it makes things easier. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“You pretty much stalked me for a week,” you tease, grinning.

Your Ghostie lets out a laugh. He doesn’t bother to check you on the word ‘stalking’ this time, even though he’s always been adamant that’s not what he was up to. It’s nice to have this little win, and as a reward for him biting his tongue, you reach out to undo his belt.

As the buckle unclasps and you move to his zipper, there’s a loud banging on the door.

Johnny looks over his shoulder and you can hear Hyuck screaming “Tequila!”

The frat boy in front of you lifts his finger to his lips, a shushing motion, and then he reaches into his back pocket for his phone. You bet he’s going to text Hyuck some lie about not being in the room, but you’re too horny to slow down.

You get his jeans undone and you bundle your hands up in all the fabric, roughly tugging them down.

Johnny lets out a groan when his large cock slaps up against his abdomen, and he moves his phone to the side to give himself a better view, holding it with one hand while raising a brow at you.

You’re on your knees at the foot of the bed now while Johnny stands there, and you steady yourself, grabbing the base of his cock. With one last wink at Ghostie, you lean forward, kitten licking his length from balls to tip.

The man above you quickly types in the text, then tosses his phone to the side, his large hand coming down to cup your cheek. You take this as a sign to accept him into your mouth, so you do exactly that.

He’s so large and thick- you haven’t sucked cock in a while, and you’ve never sucked a cock as big as his. You know you can take your time, Johnny’s always been patient with you.

You start by paying attention to the head, swirling your tongue around him and getting used to his size. Your eyes close, mind focused completely on your task. You’re already drooling from this, and you can feel your saliva dripping down his shaft. You smooth your thumb along the new trail of spit, helping lube your hand so you can begin to pump his cock.

“Fuck,” Johnny groans, tightening his grip in your hair.

You try to sink your mouth further onto his cock, but it’s difficult. He’s just so huge-

Your pussy throbs knowing that soon, this monster dick is going to be inside of you-

Without any lube that you’ve seen so far, you want to make him as slicked up as possible, and it helps that you’re drooling from how sexy all of this is.

His cock hits the back of your throat and you gag slightly, powering through the uncomfortable feeling as you glide your tongue along his shaft. You’re not a quitter.

“Holy fuck, Tiny-” Johnny praises you. “You don’t have to try to take more than you can handle-”

But you want to. You want to pleasure him the way he’s pleasured you, and his words only prompt you to suck harder, earning more groans from the man above you.

“You’re so good at this,” he continues his words of encouragement, and they do help you take him deeper. His voice is smooth, sexy, and thankfully not modulated in any way.

You’ve never realized how nice John’s voice really is.

You apply more pressure with your hand, pumping him faster-

“Okay, okay-” Johnny tugs gently on your hair, prompting you to pull off of his cock and blink up at him in confusion. “I have to fuck you now. I’m done waiting.”

You let out a tiny mewl, nodding.

Johnny kicks off his jeans completely, pressing a knee onto the bed. He leans down to kiss you, and then he’s grabbing your body. In one easy motion, he tosses you a few feet up the mattress, so your head can land against the pillows.

God, he makes you feel truly Tiny- it’s one of the sexiest things ever.

He takes his place between your legs next, lips finding yours. One of his hands cups your cheek, and the kiss deepens, his tongue invading your mouth while your arms wrap around his strong shoulders.

You can feel his cock sliding between your pussy lips, and it’s almost embarrassing how wet you are, how much drool you’ve left on him.

“Please-” you whimper. You can’t wait another moment either, you have to know what he feels like. You reach your hand between your bodies, grabbing his cock so you can line him up with you properly. “Ghostie, I can’t-”

He kisses you, cutting you off. Something tells you Johnny understands, and the moment you have him properly situated, he begins to push into you.

You gasp against his lips, letting go of his cock so you can grab his shoulders. He’d worked you open with his fingers two times over, but nothing compares to this. You can feel your walls stretching to accommodate his impressive girth, and it leaves you practically brain-dead.

“Let me know if it’s too much,” Johnny tells you, lips moving to your throat so he can suck on your sweet spot while he continues to burry into your hot, wet core.

You wrap your legs tightly around his hips, closing your eyes while the feeling of him overtakes you. You’ve never moaned like this before, never felt anything like Johnny-

He groans loudly against your skin, gently thrusting, coating his cock in your juices to make things easier-

The moment his hips hit flush to yours, his full cock buried inside of you, you both gasp. Johnny grabs at your hands, interlocking your fingers and pinning them to the pillows on either side of your head.

“Fuck, you’re so big, you’re so-” You can’t even think, especially not when he takes another test thrust.

His cock drags against your inner walls and you cry out, body tingling.

“You take me so well, Tiny,” he praises you, mouth still hot on your throat. “The perfect fit.”

You can’t speak, not now, but you can squeeze his hands and tilt your head to the side, kissing his cheek. Johnny takes the cue to bring his lips back to yours, and you’re immediately lost in yet another breathtaking makeout session.

He’s moving slow, fucking into you at a gentle pace, allowing your body to get used to his massive size.

But you’re feeling particularly desperate, and greedy. “More.”

“More?” He laughs. “You sure about that?”

You nod, eager to be decimated by him. “Please, ruin me-”

Johnny groans, letting go of one of your hands so he can press his palm flat to the bed, giving himself more leverage. He begins to fuck you faster, and each meeting of his cock to your core has you whimpering like a whore in heat.

“You make the cutest fucking sounds,” Johnny breathes.

Only he - with his cock making you feral - would call your noises of pleasure cute.

He’s so stupidly endearing.

“Fuck, Tiny, you’re dripping- making this too fucking easy for me.”

It’s absolutely embarrassing how wet you are. He’s gliding into you with no issues now, and each movement is like heaven. The head of his cock hits a spot deep in your stomach- you can’t help but reach down, pressing your palm to your abdomen-

You can feel him rearranging your guts, and you both groan when you apply a bit of pressure.

“Deep, huh?” Johnny lets out a moaned chuckle.

“So deep-” you agree, words slightly garbled.

“I’ve just started with you and you can hardly speak,” Johnny muses. “Wonder what’s gonna happen when I make you cum again.”

You cry out desperately, removing your hand from your stomach so you can claw at his hair, bringing his lips back to your own.

You’re tired of thinking- all you want to do is experience this, experience him, at your fullest- and boy, are you fucking full.

Johnny lets go of your other hand, reaching for your thigh. He adjusts it higher on his hip and suddenly he’s driving into you even deeper.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head and you gasp loudly against his lips. Johnny traces his tongue along your teeth, and you can feel him smirking.

You love that he’s enjoying this- enjoying watching you come completely undone for him.

“You know,” he says, “if you keep squeezing me like that, I’m not going to last long.”

You don’t even care. You know this isn’t the only time you’ll be fucking this man- and after cumming twice already, your body is near its limit of pleasure, if that’s even possible. In fact, there’s something very sexy about making a man cum quicker than he’s used to, and your pussy clenches at the thought.

“Fuck,” Johnny groans again. “Can I flip you over?”

At this point, you’ll agree to any request, and you nod quickly, biting at your lip.

With one last kiss, Johnny pulls away from you. His cock slips out of your core and you whine at the loss, only for his two large hands to grab your waist and manually turn you onto your stomach. Then he adjusts your hips, pulling you up into doggy position.

“If you need to scream, use the pillows,” Johnny warns you, lining up with your pussy again.

The first thrust has you doing exactly that. You bury your face into the pillow, letting out a loud cry as his cock hits deeper than before.

This position might just kill you, but you don’t care.

His hands feel so good- so large and warm and steady on your hips as he finds an even rougher pace.

You can hear your ass smacking loudly against his front with each thrust and it only adds to your arousal.

Bunching your hands up in his duvet, you do your best not to be so loud that the whole frat will hear you. But it’s so difficult not to just melt under him-

You can feel your eyes welling with pleasure-fueled tears, and it drives you crazy.

“Fuck, you like this position, don’t you, pretty girl?”

“Yes, Ghostie!” you gasp, nodding while his cock continues to make you feel like absolute heaven.

“You look fucking perfect like this,” he tells you. “Face down, ass up. Pretty soon you’ll be begging for me to fill you up even more.”

His words flip a switch inside of you. “God, yes, please-” you cry out. “I want it so bad-”

“Want what?”

“Want your cum,” you whimper. “Wanna be so full-”

Johnny groans, grabbing rough fistfuls of your ass while he fucks you even harder.

“I need it, Ghostie, I need it-” You’re crying now, and Johnny notices.

He bends over your back, bracing an arm across your chest so he can lift you onto your knees. He cups your jaw, thumb stroking through a tear track. “Holy shit, Tiny,” he moans, mouth hot against your shoulder.

“Please, Ghostie, please-” you whimper, lower lip trembling-

You’re so close-

Johnny lets go of your jaw, and his hand slips down your front. You jolt when his fingers make contact with your clit, wriggling in his grasp.

“I’m almost there, Tiny,” he admits. “Watching you cum will tip me over the edge- you’ll be good and cum for me, right?”

All you can do is nod. Words are gone. Your mind is blank except for the pleasure that’s coursing through you.

Your noises are getting pitchier, and Johnny works you all the way to your peak. You gasp loudly as you topple over the edge, core clamping down hard on his cock.

Your legs feel like jelly, and Johnny releases you, allowing you to fall to the bed while your orgasm ravages your form. You’re clawing at the sheets, burying your face in his bed to muffle your screams-

His hands are bruising on your hips, and you hear him let out a loud groan. You can feel him filling you up, his motions faltering ever so slightly. His breath is hot against your shoulders and it’s added stimulus that makes you twitch, so completely overwhelmed that it almost feels like you’re about to black out.

But you don’t want to miss a second of this. His groans of pleasure keep you in the moment even as your mind is in a sex daze.

Johnny rides you through your high, thrusts slowing until he comes to a stop behind you.

You’re both breathing heavily now, and Johnny stays still for a moment, enjoying the last of your orgasm aftershocks. Then he flattens his chest to your back, hand falling to the bed next to your own.

“Holy shit,” he breathes.

You can’t help but let out a small laugh, and it makes Johnny groan as your core clenches again.

He kisses your shoulder, lips oddly tender in comparison to the way he just blew your back out.

“Ghostie-” you whimper, wanting to collapse on his bed from exhaustion.

“Stay still, I’ll get something to clean you up,” he assures you, pressing one last kiss to your skin before straightening from your back.

You miss his warmth as soon as he’s gone, and you especially miss his cock when it slides out of you.

You feel him get off the bed, and a moment later, something begins to drip down your inner thighs. He really filled you up, and it makes you twitch. You reach a hand between your legs, cupping your core and rolling onto your back on his bed, trying to breathe properly.

Johnny is back a second later, and you can feel his gaze on you.

“Spread these thighs for me, Tiny,” he says gently, touching your knee.

You open your eyes, and then you open your legs.

Johnny moves your hand out of the way, letting out a groan. “You have no idea how fucking hot this is-” he tells you, wiping your core clean of his cum.

You still don’t have it within yourself to speak, you can only watch him toss the tissue in the garbage before you’re making grabby hands at him.

Johnny laughs. He sits on the bed next to you, leaning against the headboard before scooping you into his lap. He’s so fucking big, and he makes you feel safe cuddled in his arms, your cheek pressed to his chest.

His heart is still racing, and it makes you feel better to know you’re not the only one who’s so affected by this.

Johnny’s fingers begin to thread through your hair, and he simply holds you while you come out of subspace.

The party is still in full swing outside, and it’s an interesting feeling to have such a private moment with Johnny in the middle of a frat on Halloween.

“Do you think anyone heard us?” you ask finally.

Johnny laughs. “Don’t worry about it,” he says soothingly.

You pull away from his chest, looking up at him. His hand moves to cup your face and you press your lips to his. It’s a much gentler kiss than he’d given you mid-fuck, and it eases your racing heart.

“Ghostie?”

“Yeah, Tiny?”

“I like you a lot.”

He lets out another chuckle. “I like you too.”

“We’ll do this again sometime, right?”

“Of course, Tiny.” His hand smooths up and down your back. “I’d also like to take you on dates, if you’ll let me.”

“I’d like that,” you nod, relaxing against his chest again. “And… and when you call me, no more voice modulator.”

“No?”

“I like your voice, your real voice.” God, you’re feeling so soft and mushy for him.

“I like your voice too.” For a second, it’s a sweet moment, and then Johnny continues, “Liked listening to your whimpers.”

He’s such a frat boy, but you kind of love him for it. “Did you like my tears too?”

“Only if they’re for a good reason,” Johnny says. “If anyone else ever makes you cry, I’ll have to fuck them up.”

“My protective Ghostie,” you grin, leaning up to kiss the underside of his jaw.

“As much as I’d love to stay cuddling you forever, I should probably bring the boys some tequila,” Johnny sighs.

“The boys,” you echo. “I feel like I’ve just fucked Mark and Hyuck’s dad.”

“Do you have a daddy kink, Tiny?”

“For you, I have any kink you want,” you laugh.

“I like the sound of that.”

“Just… kiss me again?” you ask. “We can bring tequila after.”

“Are you sure you want to come with? You can stay here and I’ll come back-”

“We should…” you lick your lips, “we should be social.”

“I just fucked your brains out and you want to go be social?” Johnny grins. “Maybe I didn’t work you over well enough.”

“You worked me over perfect,” you laugh, grabbing at his jaw so you can press your lips to his.

Johnny melts into the kiss, and there’s something in it that feels like coming home. You’ve never felt this safe with a guy before, and it’s kind of starting to scare you.

If you were to stay here- you think you might even fall in love with Johnny… that is, if you haven’t already.

You pull away from your Ghostie, letting out a sigh.

Getting out of his lap isn’t fun, and your legs are wobbly as you stand next to the bed, but Johnny’s hands go to your hips to steady you.

When he stands, he towers over you, and you’re overcome by your thirst for him all over again. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, bringing him in for another kiss.

It’s so easy to get lost in making out with Johnny, but you have to tear yourself away, nodding, “Tequila.”

“Tequila,” he echoes. “Can you stand by yourself?”

“I’m okay,” you assure him, but it still hurts when he lets you go.

Johnny pulls on some sweatpants while you find your dress-

“You’re not putting that back on,” Johnny tells you, moving to his closet. “Let me give you some clothes.”

“Are you trying to announce to Mark and Hyuck that we’ve fucked?” you laugh, accepting the large t-shirt he throws your way.

“Trust me, Tiny, they’ll know.”

“Yeah? How’s that?”

“After this, I won’t be able to keep my hands to myself, and something tells me you won’t be able to either.” Johnny pulls on a hoodie, grabbing the tequila and turning to you. “I know you, remember?”

You grin, pulling on the pair of black boxer shorts he’d also sent your way. “Maybe a little too well.”

“Or not well enough,” Johnny suggests, approaching you again.

“You’re such a sweet talker.”

“Only for you,” he smirks, leaning down to kiss you again. “You look cute in my clothes.”

“Do I look like I just got fucked senseless?”

“Definitely.”

“Mark’s going to hate you,” you laugh.

“He’ll get over it,” Johnny brushes it off, reaching for your hand. “Ready to go?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“You can still stay here if you want.”

“No, let’s face this now.” You need to be firm, need to get out of this love den before you find yourself even more loved up.

The two of you head to his door and Johnny holds it open for you.

In the time you’ve been fucking, it looks like a lot of people have dispersed from the party, so walking through the hallway isn’t exactly a walk of shame. However, when you get down the stairs to Mark’s floor, you realize you still have to pull up your big girl panties to face him.

“I’m going to run to the bathroom,” you tell Johnny, “I’ll meet you in Mark’s.”

“You don’t want me to come with you?”

“To the bathroom?” you laugh. “I think I’m good.”

With one last kiss, you make your way to the frat bathroom at the end of the hall. It’s important to go pee after sex, for UTI reasons, your sorority big sister has drilled that into you since first year. When you’re done, you head to the sink, daring a look at yourself in the dirty mirror.

You look fucked, but you also look happy.

In fact, you can’t stop smiling.

After washing your hands, you dab some water on your throat, hoping it will calm you down. Once you feel good and ready, you exit the bathroom.

Mark’s door is open when you get to his room, and you poke your head inside.

Jaehyun and Hyuck are on one bed, Mark and Johnny on the other, and they’re all lifting shots to their mouths. As you step inside, Mark’s gaze shifts to you. He takes in your new outfit and his eyes widen, then he spits out his shot, coughing loudly.

Johnny’s hand finds Mark’s back while he practically coughs up a lung, and then Mark is leaping to his feet. “What-” His eyes dart between you and Johnny, and you can see the realization there.

“Jesus, Mark, learn how to handle a shot,” Hyuck scoffs.

Mark doesn’t even entertain Hyuck, he simply turns to his big, pointing an accusatory finger at Johnny’s chest. “You’re Ghostie!?”

Johnny stands up. “You’re the one who gave me her number last year.”

“I what?!” Mark’s eyes are practically bulging out of his head now.

Hyuck and Jaehyun exchange a look, and Hyuck reaches for the tequila to pour another shot.

“Mark, it could be worse-” you say, trying to de-escalate the situation while stepping further into the room.

“How could it be worse!?” Mark bellows. “My Big is a stalker!”

“He’s not a stalker,” you defend Johnny, coming to join your tall new lover, your hand reaching for his.

“You’re her new boss!” Mark insists.

“Hyuck fucked our last bar manager,” Johnny points out.

“Guilty,” Hyuck smirks over the rim of his new shot.

Mark’s still not having any of this situation. “This is fucked up.”

“Mark, I’ve told you a million times, it’s spooky season.” You can’t help but giggle. This has been such a turn of events, but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“You better not hurt her,” Mark says next, trying to meet Johnny’s gaze even while substantially shorter.

“I won’t,” Johnny promises.

“This is just-” Mark shakes his head. “Fuck this, I need to sleep.”

“We can move the party to my room,” Jaehyun says, already grabbing the bottle of tequila while Hyuck reaches for his bong.

It’s clear Mark’s done talking, and he collapses onto his bed face first like a tantruming toddler. You’ll discuss this with him another day, but you know now is probably not the time to push him to accept that his Big has a whole different side to him that Mark’s never seen.

As you leave the room with Hyuck, Johnny and Jaehyun, Hyuck elbows you in the side. “I always knew you’d end up with one of us.”

“Yeah?” you laugh, gaze shifting to Johnny and Jaehyun who walk a few feet ahead of you.

“Once an NCT girl, always an NCT girl,” Hyuck nods. “And between us…” he leans closer, “Johnny is a good one.”

Your Ghostie looks over his shoulder at you, and you meet his gaze with a smile. “He is,” you agree. “Hey, John?”

“Yes, Tiny?” He stops at the door to the stairwell, holding it open and allowing you to catch up.

“I changed my mind, I think I am done with the party tonight.”

“Yeah?” Johnny smirks. “Gonna come back to my room?”

“If you invite me.”

“Tiny, my room has an open-door policy for you now.”

“Is that so?” you wrap your arms around his neck, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips.

“Uh huh,” Johnny grins. “And free cuddles, anytime you want them.”

“I like the sound of that,” you confess.

“Just get married already!” Hyuck shouts back at the two of you as he climbs the stairs with Jaehyun.

You and Johnny can only laugh at Hyuck. Your willpower is completely gone, and you allow your Ghostie to take you back to his room.

He cuddles you close as the party dies down outside, and you find yourself slipping into the best sleep of your life on Halloween night with your Ghostie by your side.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! Halloween is my favourite Holiday, and there's something about Johnny and horror genre that makes me go feral

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🔮 preview. There’s no way he should be this fucking sexy. You’re outside in the cold, parkas on, a Santa hat on his head, a joint between his lips, both your jeans down to your knees, his hand over your mouth to stifle your moans, and he’s about to fuck you against a wall with his massive cock- you’ve decided that Johnny as a whole is simply illegal.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, exhibitionism in an alley, weed use, slight temperature play, big dick Johnny, quickie, cum kink/filling panties with cum while at work, praise, dirty talk, size kink, hand over mouth silencing, choking, etc… I pet names: (hers) Tiny, pretty girl, good girl. (his) Ghostie.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.5k I teaser wc. 275

🌙 staring. Johnny x afab!reader

bonus

You’ve been dating Johnny for a month and a half and you still can’t get enough of him. Whenever you pop over to the frat, it’s not long before one of you is dragging the other to his room. There’s never been sexual chemistry like there is for you and your Ghostie.

You’d never thought your biggest hurdle in the workplace would be refraining from jumping your bar manager, but here you are, every shift, practically drooling over him. Each brush of his hands across your body as he moves behind you to grab something makes you want to tear his clothes off, and your patience is at an all-time low.

With Christmas fast approaching, the bar scene has substantially dwindled, and it’s making you even more needy. When Skeets only has a handful of customers, you fill drink orders while thinking about sucking on Johnny’s cock.

It doesn’t help that he’s started wearing a Santa hat- why does it make him even sexier?

As Johnny smiles and makes casual conversation with a pair of girls sitting at the bar, you do your best to calm yourself. At the end of the night, you’ll be the one in Johnny’s bed, you just have to get to closing.

You notice in the periphery of your vision that the girls are finishing up with their drinks. Johnny excuses himself to grab the card reader, and as he slips past your ass, you feel his hard cock in his jeans. It’s difficult to stifle a moan, and you do so by biting on your lip.

He loves teasing you, especially while you’re at work, and it drives you absolutely mental.

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luludeluluramblings · 4 months ago

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Smalltown!Neglected!Meta!Reader x Yandere!Batfam ☁️ Part One

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Part Two ☁️ Part Three ☁️ Part Four ☁️ Part Five ☁️ Part Six ☁️ Part Seven ☁️ Part Eight

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: I’ve been hyper fixated on Batfam and DC in general for the past two months, and this is what my brain has been cooking. This is based on an fem!OC I made, but I converted it to GN!Reader. Or attempted to. Might write an official one with the oc. I don’t know. I’m new at this stuff and doing this on mobile to boot.

Warning(s): Yandere themes, Obsessive behavior

Reader grows up happy, healthy, a safe away from Gotham

Momma and Daddy (step-father) adore their darling reader

Daddy is kind and understanding; gives good advice, encourages reader, comforts reader after nasty break ups

Momma is sassy and a bit possessive of her baby reader

Momma never tells reader anything about their biological father (He was a big city playboy that missed the court date for custody is all she said)

Reader has a much younger half-brother from Momma and Daddy, who reader also adores

Little Brother’s are annoying, but you have so many interest in common

Suddenly Momma and Daddy are dead; (tragic accident or murdered)

Reader’s Bio Father, Bruce Wayne is called and flies into town via Private Jet and whisk you off to Gotham

Bruce can’t get custody over half-brother due to Reader’s step-grandparents fighting him.

(They tried to keep Reader too, but blood is thicker than water in the eyes of the court. And, Bruce has enough money to make that water run dry)

Bruce isn’t exactly like Momma described, he’s distant and a bit cold with reader. (Like he doesn’t know what to do.)

Bruce gets upset when Reader talks about missing Momma and Daddy, especially when Reader talks about Daddy.

Bruce doesn’t introduce Reader to the family right away.

Reader doesn’t see anyone, but Bruce and Alfred for the first week at the manor.

Bruce avoids reader, but gets upset when Reader ignores him

Reader starts researching their new family. Everything they can find in the media, even the company.

(Family Buisness funds the Justice League? Gotham gains a new Vigilante almost every time Bruce gains a new kid? Jason Todd’s death and reappearance. Suspicious…)

Reader finally meets the others.

First up Cassandra.

Quite, but watches reader like she knows all of reader’s secrets. (That’s terrifying.)

Reader’s instincts scream that she’s dangerous (Reader trusts those instincts.)

Reader is still nice, they get along. Cass rather be alone, but it’s cool. They’re cool.

Second up is Duke.

Duke is great. Official bro. Passes all the vibe checks. (Most normal one in this house.)

Reader’s meta abilities go haywire around him, so Reader needs to be careful. (Reader’s not sharing that secret yet. Not till they share what Reader suspects is their secret)

Third, Dick and Barbara.

Dick is a whirlwind, coddling and pitying, treating reader like a sweet helpless child then leaving. (He’s a busy popular man)

Barbara is polite, but a stranger.

Reader tries to be friendly, but can’t get past the stranger stage.

Fourth Stephanie.

Stephanie politely ignores reader, but reader genuinely wants to hang out. (Similar interest, close in age. Please, can we be friends? ……….)

Reader says they’ll keep trying (It happens… eventually….)

Fifth, Tim.

Tim just brushes Reader off with a blank look and disappears.

Reader can never find Tim. (Always in the cave, at work, on patrol. He’s a busy busy busy sleepy man that avoids even the mention of Reader)

(Stephanie hangs out with Tim though, but they still ignore reader. It’s fine. Reader is fine. It doesn’t hurt.)

Sixth is Jason.

Jason is mean.

Calls reader spoiled, says reader a an ignorant privileged princess, Daddy’s pet, a brat, etc.

But, then leaves when reader starts to snap back.

(He looks like he’s struggling not to strangle reader almost every time reader sees him.)

Seventh is the youngest and reader’s half brother.

Reader is excited to meet him, reader already has a younger half-brother. Having two sounds even better!

Damian is cruel

It breaks reader’s heart.

Damian either ignores reader, or mocks reader viscously. He’ll push and shove and throw things at reader. (Won’t draw a weaponed though, he’s past that.)

He brushes off all of Reader’s attempts at sibling bonding.

All this goes on for a few months.

Reader tries so hard to get close to everyone, but they’re either avoid them, ignore them, are cruel, or they just don’t have the time.

Reader’s life in Gotham is… different.

Reader’s a commodity, and, surprisingly enough, most people like Reader

School Friendships form, which reader worries are because they’re a Wayne child

(Which is true, but not in the way Reader thinks; hint: it involves other types of night avians)

Teacher’s appreciate a humble Wayne (Damian goes to the same school, Reader is a relief to teach)

Reader is quite talented, not a prodigy, not extraordinary. Just extremely approachable.

But, like all good things there is a downside.

Reader wants to spend time with their new friends.

They’re invited to Galas, lunches, brunches, vacations, shopping, etc.

And Reader WANTS to go

But, Bruce won’t let them

It’s not safe

(Which Reader understands, that’s why they never really explore Gotham, but still brunch couldn’t hurt, right?)

So Reader has no one to lean on or connect with. It’s isolating.

Instead Reader spends hours talking on the phone to their old friends and family back in their small town.

There’s a silver lining though: Things are going to get better before they get worse

So much worse

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barefoot-joker · 10 months ago

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Snake in the Garden~Yandere! Lucifer X Reader

Hey, guys! I hope you all are well! Today I bring you a Yandere! Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) story. I do apologize if he's OOC, I tried to make him a bit suave. I hope you enjoy and have a great day/night!

Words: 2105

Warnings: Snakes, Kidnapping, Swearing

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

I hummed as I slipped on my straw hat and sandals. Today was gardening day and I was very excited to be outside. My garden was my passion. It was something to look forward to each day after work. It was especially nice in the eighty degree weather we were having, cool breezes making it bearable to be outside.

Grabbing my metal bucket with my shears, trowel, and gloves, I made my way out the back door of my house. My neighbor Terry was sitting on his porch rocking in his chair, basking in the sunshine. When he saw me he waved. “Yello, Y/n! Enjoying the day?”

“Of course! How about you Mr. Johnson?”

“Oh you know, just taking a sunbath while the wife is out grocery shopping. If you catch my drift.”

“Perfectly.”

“Well have fun, little lady!”

“Will do, thank you!”

I gave a simple wave and headed towards my small garden. It wasn’t the most spectacular thing, only having five or six rows of vegetables, but I was so proud of my little paradise. I set my bucket down and walked down the row of beans, inspecting each one. My humming continued as I began picking and gently setting the vegetables in my pail. As I was working I heard something hissing. Confused, I looked around and didn’t see anything. I turned back to my work. It was silent for a moment until the hissing continued. I glanced around when suddenly my eyes caught sight of something white in the bushes. I stood up and walked over, pushing the foliage to the side. I gasped when I saw a white snake, its pale pink underbelly had a large gash. I slowly reached down and stroked its back. The snake turned its head, the red eyes staring me down. “Hey there, little fellow. It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt ya.”

As I continued to stroke its back, the snake must have understood my message. “Let’s get you patched up, little guy.”

I gently grabbed a hold and made sure to cradle him close. Walking back inside, I set him in my kitchen sink and went to grab supplies. I made my way to the bathroom where I grabbed some gauze and disinfectant from a cupboard. I then returned back to the kitchen. I lifted my scaly friend to flip him over and started to rub some disinfectant on his gash. I grabbed some paper towel and dabbed it dry. “Almost done, little fellow.”

Ripping off some gauze, I carefully wrapped it around the wound. Tying it off, I sealed it with a kiss from the fingertips. “And, all done! Not my best work, but it’ll do.”

The snake’s tongue flicked out in appreciation. “You know what? I think I’ll name you Red. You know, after your very beautiful red eyes!”

The white snake hissed and slithered closer to the edge of the sink. I picked him up and cuddled him close as we walked back outside. When we made it to my garden I gently let him down before I went back to work. Red stayed the whole time I was outside, slithering alongside me. When it was my time to head inside, I said my goodbyes and watched him slither back into the bushes.

After my run in with Red I would see him every time I entered my garden. I would lay out some greenery for him to eat and some water to drink all the time. He would even wrap himself around my arms as I worked. One day as I was preparing my small table, Red came out of the bushes as per usual. He slithered up my leg and I couldn’t help but giggle. “Red, that tickles! Stop! I have to get this ready!”

He just stayed there. “You silly boy.”

I caressed the top of his head and set up my nice (favorite color) tablecloth. Just as I was placing two mugs down, I heard a male voice call my name. Red slid off my leg and curled down by the table leg. I turned to see my boyfriend s/o standing at my back door. “S/o!”

I ran at him and gave a big hug. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

“Me too. We’ve been planning this little lunch date for a while.”

I led him over to the table and we sat. “I made us some tea. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not, honey. You know I’m down to try anything.”

We both took a sip from our cups. “So, how has your garden been going?”

“Pretty well actually. All of my vegetables have been thriving, which is nice. I even met a new friend!”

“A new friend? Well I’d love to meet them.”

“Hold on one second.”

I leaned under the table and gently picked up my snake buddy. “This is Red. Isn’t he gorgeous? I’ve never seen a snake with a pink underbelly before.”

“Me neither. Can I see him?”

“Of course!”

I started to hand him over when suddenly Red struck forward and sunk his fangs into S/o’s hand. “Ow! God dammit that hurt!”

“Red!”

I set him down and gently took my boyfriend’s hand. “Are you alright?”

“No, your fucking snake bit me!”

I sucked on my teeth. “It does look bad. Here, let’s take you to the clinic.”

We stood up and walked to my car. I had him sit in the passenger seat while I drove.

Hours later I had dropped off S/o at his apartment. We had gotten him some antibiotics and luckily Red wasn’t poisonous. Thank god. I sighed as I slipped off my shoes and walked into my living room. I was looking at the floor when suddenly I let out a gasp. Standing staring at some of the photos on my wall was a short man, his back towards me. From what I could see he wore a big white hat, white and red jacket, white puffy pants and tall black boots. At the sound of me entering, the man turned and I couldn’t help but let out another gasp. The stranger had white skin, short blonde hair and red circles on his cheeks. His red eyes were quite striking as they seemed to stare into my soul. “Ah Y/n, you’re back! Jolly good.”

“W-who are you?”

A black cane with an apple on top magically appeared and the man gave a theatrical bow. “How rude of me. My name is Lucifer dear, but you’re probably more familiar with calling me Red.”

“R-red? But you’re a person and he was a snake…wait a minute. Lucifer? As in the Devil?”

He let out a dark chuckle and I stepped back upon seeing the two rows of sharp teeth. “Exactly!”

I gulped and ran off, trying to head for my front door. I screamed when he appeared in front of me, but this time dressed in green. I bolted towards my back door but he reappeared, this time in red. A few more Lucifers in different colored clothes surrounded me, parting to let the original through. “Look Mr. Satan sir, I didn’t summon you, nobody sacrificed me, nothing like that! Why don’t you just return to Hell and forget this ever happened!”

His cane came up under my chin and lifted my head to look into his eyes. “And forget the lovely lady that helped me? Not a chance! I was lucky I stumbled upon you that day. You see, I had gotten into a fight with a contractor and he got quite a few hits in. I got away with a stomach wound and that’s when I slithered into your life. You patched me up and made me whole!”

His face got closer to mine as he told his tale, our noses almost touching. “You’re so intoxicating, dear. Just like the apple I offered to Eve.”

My breath hitched as his lips got close. “Okay, I helped you. Now why can’t you just go away?”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“Why not? Please, leave me alone.”

A few tears collected in the corners of my eyes and he was quick to wipe them away. “I’ll explain in due time. But I’ve wasted enough time. We need to get going.”

“Going?”

“Yes! You’re coming to Hell with me!”

My eyes widened and I attempted to flee. His arm wrapped around my waist and with the other he waved his cane in the air. Golden dust began to accumulate on the floor, swooshing around and around until a portal formed. The arm around my waist forced me to walk with him. He threw his cane into the air and like magic it disappeared. “Now this may cause a slight headache but I’ll be sure to tend to it when we arrive.”

“No please-”

“In we go!”

He forced us to jump forward and I let out a shriek. I tightly closed my eyes and my stomach lifted into my throat as we fell. This feeling stayed until I landed on something soft. My body was tense as I slowly opened my eyes. It seemed we had landed in a foyer of sorts. The large marble fireplace had a roaring blaze going and from what I could see out the large Victorian windows it was night outside. The dark red clouds swirled like my nerves as I watched Lucifer fluff his jacket. He turned to me and smiled. “I apologize if I frightened you, my dear. It wasn’t my intention. I know first time portal jumping can be quite tedious.”

He adjusted his hat before sitting next to me on the deep red velvet chaise lounge. “Now then I know you skipped lunch since you took your little boy toy to the hospital, so how about some dinner? I can cook a mean steak!”

The situation was starting to be too much to handle and I couldn’t help the sobs that wracked my body. “Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay. Shh, shh. There, there.”

Lucifer wrapped his arms around me in a hug and I could feel his claws combing my hair. “It’s alright, little apple. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

He just made me cry harder. “I just want to go home!”

“This is your home now. I know it’ll take some getting used to, but I promise if you give Hell a chance you’ll forget all about silly Earth and that wretched boyfriend of yours.”

His claws dug in a bit when he brought up S/o. It made me shudder. “But he doesn’t matter anymore. I’m here for you and that’s most important.”

He pulled away slightly to wipe at my eyes, his touch gentle compared to before. “You know what will cheer you up? A nice cup of spiced hot cocoa! I’ll be right back.”

He stood and made his way towards the white door. Before leaving he gave me a smile. “Don’t go anywhere.”

The door shut softly. As soon as he was gone I quickly looked around trying to find an exit. I spotted a door opposite me. I ran to it, threw it open, and rushed out of the room. My legs carried me far as I dashed through the spiraling halls, rushing down a grand staircase, and arriving at what I assumed was the front door. I yanked them open and before I could step out an angry hiss made me pause. Two large golden snakes sat on the doorstep and stared me down harshly. I slammed the door shut and urged myself to breathe slower. “I see you’ve met David and Goliath.”

My head shot up to see Lucifer standing there without his jacket, a faint smirk on his lips. “Why the heck do you have giant snakes on your property?!”

“To protect us. Being the rulers of Hell comes with a target on your back.”

“What do you mean rulers?”

“I brought you here for a reason, Y/n, silly goose!”

He began walking towards me. “I intend to court you and make you my Queen. I’ve been alone for seven years. My wife and I split and my daughter and I don’t have the best relationship. However, I intend to rectify that, my sweet apple. You and I are going to be together forever.”

He stopped in front of me and held my face in his hands, thumbs gently rubbing my cheekbones. My heart sank as I realized I wasn’t getting out of this any time soon and the look of adoration in Lucifer’s eyes made that fact.

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madamechrissy · 5 days ago

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Gojo can't stop thinking about fucking Geto's girl

MDNI- Explicit Yandere Gojo jerks off thinking about you, Geto's girlfriend, yandere Suguru decides he'll share you once.

Warnings: -yandere Geto and Gojo, oral sex -f receiving, M receiving, p in v sex, anal play/anal sex( f recieving) threesome, Eifel tower, choking, smacking, dollification, dumbification, lowkey misogyny lol

Part One ♡ Part Two ♡ Part Three ♡ Part Four

♡ Part Five ♡

"All my holes, Suguru Geto..." You pull back from sucking his thick cock, mouth popping as the suction releases, strings of saliva dripping from your lips. Suguru loves how pretty you look like this, especially when he watches your face contort in pleasure as Satoru sinks his cock into you.

Satoru's losing himself in you, clearly, it's written all over his face, but Suguru can't blame him, who wouldn't with you? You're so perfect he muses, tilting your chin up, running a thumb over a plump lower lip, as you stare up under your lashes, eyes dilated, so fucking pretty.

"I didn't say he could fuck your ass Princess, that's for me."

"Rude, rude, rude. Both of you." Satoru whines from behind you now, his cock stretching your tight cunt out, you're throbbing around him, gushing arousal at how fucking good he feels. Your back arches to take more, as your boyfriend smirks down at you. "Yes, baby arch just like that f-fuck..."

"Ngh!" You're whining out at how good it feels, hands gripping the sheets beneath you as Satoru fucks you harder now.

"Make her cum one more time and I'll let her suck you." Suguru says, and Satoru grins, teeth glinting, pulling on your hair now. "Did I say you could pull her hair?"

"Do you want me to baby?" He whispers, bringing you up to your knees, and you nod weakly, Suguru comes in front of you now, rubbing your clit and kissing down your throat as Satoru rolls his hips, tip grinding on your cervix.

You scream out hoarsely as you begin to climax, all over Satoru's length and Suguru's fingers now, they both let out low, guttural moans, kissing either side of your neck now. "Good girl." Suguru murmurs.

"Good little slut." Satoru whispers, earning your glare and his grin now.

"Satoru..." Suguru begins, sighing.

"Don't you scold me, it's dirty talk, I know she's a good girl. But I want her slutty for us."

"Do you wanna be our little fuck toy, Princess?" Suguru asks, and his words hit your core as Satoru's cock slides out of you, dripping your wetness down all over the blankets, making you tremble.

"Yes, I do." You earn a little smack then, and you bite your lower lip. "Yes, Sir."

"So good, aren't you?" You nod eagerly, Suguru kissing your cheek where it stung, Satoru's hands pressing against your waist, you feel them both all over you, overwhelming you.

"Can she call me daddy?" Satoru asks, Suguru glares.

"No."

"He's mean to me, baby." Satoru whispers in your ear, big hands on your breasts now, bringing your nipples taut against his palms. "Make him be nice, please?"

"You're a baby, Satoru." You mumble, now he's smacked your ass hard, and Suguru chuckles.

"That's my girl. Turn around, Princess, show him just how good that mouth is." Suguru's words follow with Satoru Gojo's pretty cock in your face, glistening with your cum, his tip pearling with white drops that you lap up with a kitten lick. Satoru moans, hands in your hair, as Suguru's fingers slide inside your pussy.

"Mmm!" You cry out, and Satoru uses the opportunity to shove his cock in deep, you're breathing through your nose, tears forming in your pretty eyes as you look up at him, and he feels your hot mouth suck him in.

"Fuck, you're pretty." Satoru's babbling now as you suck him so good, and Suguru's making you moan around his length as he's scissoring fingers in and out of you, free hand pressing into your hip.

"Cum when I put my cock in you, yes Princess?" He asks, pulling his fingers away and sucking your yummy cunt off them. You nod, choking around Satoru's cock, as he brushes back your hair, looking at how fucked out you already are.

"Aw, she's cryin' Sugu." Satoru says, as he shoves his cock deeper, watching the bulge on your throat as Suguru slides in your pussy now, so thick he's stretching you out, making you tremble. You're already so fucking close it takes just two thrusts and you're cumming all over his length.

"Oh Fuck, good girl." Suguru groans now, starting to fuck into you in long, slow strokes that hit so goddamn good your toes curl. Satoru's stretched you out just enough you can take him being rougher quicker than usual, and he seems to notice. "Satoru got you this wet, Princess? Should I be jealous?"

You pull back with a glare over your shoulder, watching Suguru smirk at you. "It's your idea!"

"Haha what if I got her wetter, hmm Sugu?" Satoru says with a devious little grin, and Suguru's eyes narrow.

"I'll make her cum harder than you did."

"Oh, you can try."

"I'm not a basketball game you-" You're shut up then by Suguru railing the fuck out of your pussy now, balls slapping your clit, tip dragging on the spot in your velvety walls that makes you blinded. And now Satoru is shoving his length back in your mouth, moaning.

"Make her cum again, wanna feel that throat tighten." Satoru's leaning his head back, adam's apple bobbing, silvery hair slick and sticking to his forehead as Suguru shoves in deep, rolling his hips just so, making you shatter.

You're pulsing around him, pussy slick and drippling down his veiny cock, Satoru's thickening in your mouth now, gasping and whimpering, Suguru's groaning, leaning over you, long dark hair falling against your back. "Fuck she's so good, oh my god."

"I know she is. Perfect, aren't you Princess?" Suguru's stroking your back gently as he rolls his hips once more, fucking into your already oversensitive cunt. Satoru feels you moaning, vibrating his cock, making him closer now as he uses your mouth.

"Prettiest fuck toy, wants us to use her." Satoru whispers then, and you react violently to his words, thighs shaking now, entire body tensing. "Wanna be back in her pussy, please."

"If she wants you." Suguru pulls you by your hair, swiping the drool off your face now, stroking your cheek. "Where do you want Satoru Princess?"

"In m-me." You manage to whine out, so pathetic and sexy Satoru can hardly stand it, he groans now, kissing you again, tasting himself on you.

"Do you wanna ride him, show him how good you are?" Suguru asks, you eagerly nod, Satoru about runs to get on the bad on his back, as you come straddle him now, bracing your hands on his chest, Suguru's right behind you, positiioning you to sit down on his cock, your head falls back as Satoru's cock is filling you again, struggling to take him.

"Oh my god, look at you." Satoru murmurs, watching as your tits gently sway, you're sinking your tight cunt right down on him, so wet it's already pooling on his sculpted abdomen, pooling below his flat belly button, down the trail of white hair now. His hands grip your waist, as Suguru is slipping two fingers in your mouth.

"Suck on these, like a good girl." He orders, and you're swirling your tongue around his thick fingers, as Satoru is bucking his hips up, fucking into you so deep, you're shaking, leaning forward and clinging to him when Suguru lets you go. Satoru cups your face, dragging your lips down to his.

Your teeth click as you kiss, you're rolling your hips over him, sliding up and down his slick cock that's covered in you now, as Suguru's fingers up your other hole now, making you gasp. Satoru's blue eyes lock on yours, his hands now grabbing your ass, pulling your ass cheeks apart, as if he knew Suguru's plan.

"You feel s'fucking good around me. So fucking pretty." Satoru murmurs, melting you then, and Suguru's pulling you back up, fingers shoved deep in you as Satoru's cock fucks your pussy now.

"Tight little ass, fuck." Suguru groans, fucking you with his fingers, you're too full, it's already too much, Suguru's free arm wrapping your waist, gripping one of your breasts in his huge hand, squeezing as you bounce up and down Satoru's cock and Suguru's fingers, screaming out.

"Sato- Sugu- I- f-fuck!" They both chuckle then, Satoru's planting his feet flat on the bed, fucking up into you harder, as Suguru's found your clit now, still pumping fingers into your ass.

"That's it, cum all over me, baby." Satoru murmurs, and you cum for the - you've lost count!?- time, shaking violently, and Satoru's grinning up at you, Suguru's smile hidden against your neck. "Fucked her stupid, Sugu look. Drooling and broken."

"Mmm, could break her further if you want, Satoru." Suguru says, pulling away as you're shaking from overstimulation, brain truly short circuited, Satoru rubs his hands over your body, every touch leaving trails of goosebumps.

"S-Sugu... wh-what?" You manage to mumble, as he stands now, and Satoru's tapping your hip, leaning up and smirking at you, blue eyes glittering as he strokes your waist. Satoru stands now with him, both of their bodies so goddamn gorgeous your pussy throbs for more, glistening with sweat and chiseled.

"C'mere, pretty." Satoru says, picking you up effortlessly, your thighs squeeze around his hips nervously, Suguru comes right behind you now, helping him hold you up by your thighs as you cling to Satoru's neck, pressing you between them both.

"What are you both... you can't just hold me and..."

"Oh yes we can, look how small you are compared to us." Suguru murmurs behind you, right in your ear, as his cock is pressing against the little puckered hole of your ass, and Satoru is pressing his tip into you're sore pussy. Your eyes go wide and you gasp, Satoru's eyes look fucking insane as they hold you up like you are nothing, shoving his cock inside you now, making you scream out.

Your head falls back against Suguru's chest, eyes rolling back into your head, screaming as Satoru fills you like this, your hands helplessly clinging to Satoru's perfect pale skin. While Suguru shoves his tip into your tiny hole, stretching and burning, they both moan now, kissing your neck on either side, as you roll your hips, filled by both of their huge cocks.

"C-can't... too much! F-fuck..." You cry out, trembling, but they both laugh softly now, taunting you and making you even wetter as they press deeper.

"You can take it, can't you Princess? You're so good for us. Look, how happy you're making Satoru." You barely open your eyes, seeing Satoru's hunger, as you feel Suguru's desire behind you. Satoru leans his lips right against yours, you taste his breath.

"You'll love it, pretty little slut." Satoru whispers, slamming his lips, as Suguru bites your neck, then they both sink in both your holes, filling you so much you can't breathe.

"Ah!" Your cries are intermingled with their chuckles, as you wonder what their devious asses are thinking, wondering if you can take two strong men holding you, filling you so goddamn good, and did they... did they plan this shit!? "You two... ah... I..."

"Just getting started with you."

Disclaimer I guess- Yandere behavior isn't cool IRL, just in fiction with Gojo and Geto lmaoo <3

Tag lists seem to not work so I'm tagging in the comments!

#satosugu x you #satosugu x reader #yandere satosugu #yandere gojo #yandere geto #satoru gojo x you #gojo x reader smut #geto x gojo x reader #jujustu kaisen #jjk #jjk smut #geto smut #gojo smut

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appleblueberry-pie · 9 months ago

Text

Yandere House"wife" Satoru x Reader

Call it a happy accident, the way Satoru transitioned from being a full-time sorcerer to being the man you come home to after he does domestic chores all day. You two talked about it for a little while. There was a time when Satoru would come home late at night almost every day. And he would wind down, take a shower, crawl into the bed into your arms and just pour out his heart to you. He would say he hates his job. He hates how repetitive these days were becoming. Meetings upon meetings in the morning, and then having to exercise curses that never stood a chance for the next 6 hours. You soothed him, of course. Or at least as much as you could.

Then you proposed that maybe he starts taking days off. So you'll go to work and he'll stay home to heal his mind as much as he needs to. He would do anything for you, so of course he tries it out just to make you happy. And a few rest days turned into a few weeks. A few weeks turned into a couple of months. You don't remember the last time Satoru went to work by now, his phone blowing up every day from the people and job he kind of abandoned. He didn't care anymore.

He realized that he was happiest doing these mundane and very human tasks every day. And his motivation to keep going was just you. If he was bored, he would do the laundry that was full. I mean, the washer and dryer was just down the hall, why not? Washed the few dishes in the sink. Maybe he'll stop by the store to restock the fridge. You recognized how much of a....housewife he was being when he would retell his daily tasks to you before you two went to bed. "Oh, so I've got a little housewife now?" The neurons in his brain crackled when he heard that word escape your mouth.

Housewife

You raised your eyebrow when you watched him whisper the word underneath his breath. "You alright?" No, he wasn't. Well, he felt fantastic at the thought of his only purpose being his favorite person's provider and nothing else. But other than that, not really. He shamelessly enjoys having that title over his head. So he decides to play the part.

In the morning, he'll wake up before you, stare at your beautiful face for around 10 minutes before getting up to prepare your lunch and make you breakfast. NO, he can't cook. But he does know how to follow instructions. You wrote him some recipes you loved and he takes extra care to follow every single step to the exact measurements that you want. And when you smile at the breakfast, or make that sigh of relief, his heart jumps. Want more coffee? Do you want tea instead? He could pour you a flask of hot coffee before you go. And don't forget your lunch, either. He had fun making the panda shaped molds of rice.

And when you give your kiss goodbye and he finishes begging you to stay for a mandatory 5 minutes, he begins cleaning up the kitchen. He washes the dishes and clears the laundry if there's any. Mops the bathroom and cleans the tub, toilet bowl, and sink until they're sparkly and clean. Vacuums carpets and turns on a humidifier with your favorite scent lightly wafting throughout the place. Though he usually does this 20 minutes before you come back home so the smell is fresh in your brain when you walk in the door. He checks off the grocery list, visits a few people from his hitlist that he knows either hooked up with you in the past, broke up with you, or just tried to fuck with you in general. Sold a few organs from said people from the hitlist's bodies and goes back home to clean himself up and relax.

Relax meaning checking your location every five minutes, doing a mandatory 10 minute phone call on your lunch break to either try and persuade you to skip the rest of the work day to come back home, have phone sex(you talk him through his orgasm), or just let you talk and he'll listen. After the phone call, he'll eat his first meal of the day. He knows you don't like when he doesn't take care of himself, so he eats as much as his big heart desires. Which usually consists of your scraps of breakfast and dinner that you don't finish, so it feels like you two are bonding over the same meal(even though you aren't there). He does like eating with you and next to you, but it just feels more intimate when you two eat from the same plate. By the end of his meal, he's usually rock hard and close to tears at the fact that you won't be here to help him get off again for the next few hours.

So, he takes a cold shower(or two, if it's serious(and when I say "two" I mean he hops in, finishes, and then has to go back because it rises again with a vengeance)). And after his cold shower, he goes to the gym and does his weight resistance training. He knows you love every part of his body and his beautifully sculpted muscles(your words), so he takes good care of them. Then if he has free time, he'll watch some tv, pop up at Jujutsu Tech to piss everyone off for a few minutes, buy some sweets and desserts you two can share and then go back home to take a nap.

He wakes up about 30 minutes before you come back home so he can cook dinner. You told him you wouldn't mind having something "simple" tonight. And if he thinks carefully, this could mean anything from a boiled stew to TV dinner. Based off of your tone and how you said this sentence, he'll assume you wouldn't want something crazy to eat, so he actually buys some deli sandwiches from a shop not too far away. And when you got home, had Satoru take your coat, shoes, and jacket, you told him you were actually excited to eat. "It's been a while since we went there, huh? Oh, it's still warm!" The bread was toasted the way you liked and everything in between.

You were so lucky to have this man take care of you. You told him you loved him and if there was anything he wanted in return for his hard efforts to keep you happy, you'd do it. He shyly shook his head, a small blush overcoming his soft cheeks. He finished eating his sandwich before you and you noticed how silent he went. You softly grabbed his hand and he immediately looked up at you in question. "You alright? You're being quiet." You raise your hand from his hand to wipe a bread crumb from the corner of his mouth. "Yeah......actually, no. I just miss being able to grab your ass every second of the day, because your job doesn't allow your boyfriend into the building."

"Satoru, you know I can't take work off, I have to take care of us." Satoru flails and grabs your hand. "But babe, you know I have enough money to buy us 16 houses! You don't need to work!" You roll your eyes. "Well, I don't want to be in the house all day rotting away."

"We can rot together." "No!" He's a romantic at heart. He stands to walk off at your rejection and you grab his hand to pull him back. "Baby, you know I didn't mean it like that." "But.....you said we can't rot together...." "I know, but we can just be here right now and enjoy each other. We have all night and even some time in the morning. Right?" He sighs at your words and nod. ".........why are you hard?"

"Because you noticed I was quiet." You roll your eyes. He was also an attention seeker. How could you forget. "Really?" He nods. This time, you sigh, and you walk over to the living room couch, patting your lap. Satoru happily bounces over and plops down his weight on you. "Oof!" Sitting sideways on your lap, you caress his back with one hand and palm his hard on through his jeans with the other. His body immediately relaxes underneath your touch, and you smile up at him. "My baby has been working so hard today, hm?" He nods and stares at your hand. "I'm glad you're being productive. What did you do today, Satoru?"

"Today, I cleaned up the kitchen and did the laundry.." You unbutton his pants when he starts talking. But before you pull them down, you pause. "And what else?" He realizes what you're trying to do and swallows stressfully. He just wants you to take care of him. "And I mopped in the kitchen and the bathroom. I vacuumed, too." You pull his pants down enough to pull out his rock hard cock. It was warm and heavy in your hand, the tip straining with the blood swollen up to it. It was red and glistening with pre, threatening to drip down.

You gently wrapped your hand around him, slowly jerking him up and down, and a whimper slips out his lips. "Come on, baby, keep talking." He grabs your arm that's holding his cock and grabs at the couch with his other. "Um...I also........that's it." He cuts himself off, and his eyelids flutter shut when you put a little more pressure onto your hold, your thumb swiping over his tip.

"Hm? Are you sure?" You know he cut himself off. Which only means he's hiding something from you. He nods his head in response, and you let go of him. He whines at the cold that surrounds him now and looks at you. "Whyy???" "I don't know, baby, I think you're lying to me." You give him a look of fake concern, and your hand instead travels south to very gently fondle his sack, which immediately gets him to squirm.

"I'm not!!" You scrunch your eyebrows. "Are you??" He goes silent, and you stare him deep into his eyes. He can't reciprocate the eye contact and stares at your hand. You stop touching him, and he looks back up at you with sad, glistening puppy eyes. "I went through the list." Your eyebrows shoot up before you start scolding him. "The list??? I thought I told you to get rid of that thing? Satoru." When you first moved in with one another, you found his hit list full of people you used to talk to. He planned to kill them off one by one to have you to himself. You never truly got mad at him for it, because most of those people on the list genuinely were big pieces of shits that you wanted to burn in hell.....but technically it still wasn't okay for him to just do that behind your back.

"No, please! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just-" you lightly push him off of your lap, which was basically his equivalent of being shoved off of a cliff and his heart drops when you stand up. "NO! No. Wait, baby, please. Let me make it up to you. Please don't leave me like this." He trips onto his knees but still makes record speed in crawling over to you. He grabs your closest leg and hugs it tightly. You could feel his cock(which was still out) rub against your pant leg. So dramatic, you think.

You look down at him, and he stares up at you with those stupid big blue eyes. "......" He takes your silence as his que to convince you. "I can make it better, look!" He shifts in front of you, still on his knees, and begins to unbutton and pull your pants down. You lose balance and stumble back into the dining table behind you, using it for balance as Satoru yanks down down your pants, his eyes staring at the goal.

"Satoru, what the hell are you doing?" Funny enough, your words contradict your actions, and you instinctually spread your legs farther apart for him to have more space in between. He grabs your legs and places them on top of his shoulders, and you scoot back onto the dining table for more comfort, cups and silverware clinking as you clumsily push them back.

"I can help like this." He pushes his tongue as far as he can past your lips, getting a strong first taste at your pussy. A firm and slow stripe from your hole up to your clit and you hiss, gripping onto the table. Satoru moans loudly and closes his eyes to enjoy himself as much as possible. He shifts impossibly closer to you, hugging your thighs to both sides of his face to be buried deep and makes out with your sensitive bud. You could feel him occasionally exhale his warm breath onto you before firmly flicking his tongue onto you again.

You begin whining at the waves of pleasure crashing down on you. Drool and your essence cover Satoru's chin. His cock twitches endlessly against the hardwood floor, more of his pre dripping onto it the more he gets you to moan. "Get up." His eyes snap open, and he pulls away to look up at you. Your fingers dig into his scalp, and you pull him up, earning a wince from him. He knows what you want and leans in to let you taste yourself on his tongue. In the middle of the kiss, he suddenly flinches at the feeling of your hand once again grabbing his cock. You separate the kiss and his gaze trails down to your pussy.

You took his cock head and pressed it in between your lips, rubbing it up and down against your entrance. Your eyes seemed to glisten in a way he hadn't seen in a long time and you maintained eye contact, whispering to him. "You gonna be a good boy and fuck me how I taught you?" Each word that slipped out of your lips was enough to make him insane, and he was ready to do whatever you commanded. He robotically nods and you laugh at his reaction.

You press a soft kiss to his chin, letting him spread your legs on top of the table. He softly spreads your lips and makes eye contact with your hole. Heat radiates from you and he soaks up every last bit of it. All he can see, think of, and hear is you. "Beautiful." He whispers underneath his breath. You caress his arm to snap him out of his mind and he leans down closer to you, his head now pressing to your entrance gently. "Please show me." And he takes it upon himself to shower you with the affection you deserve in hopes to satisfy you again.

Did I cook????? Cuz I feel like I wrote this way too fast.

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yandere-sins · 5 months ago

Note

Can I request a reluctant reader taking care of a very sick yandere? Yandere can be any character of ur choice >.< tyia

Thanks for requesting! ^-^

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

"You're hurt..."

The stench of blood, dirt, and sulfur filled the air in the underground hideout as you climbed off your bed, the heavy metal around your ankles rattling when you moved. You watched as the silver-haired man collided with the wall before sinking to the floor, his body sparely illuminated but his hair shining brightly, giving away his position. Your gut churned with hesitance, with the instinctive need to avoid all evil—especially the one that had threatened and abducted you. But it had been so long since he left. So long that you've been stowed away in secret. You were, unfortunately, drawn to him like a moth to the light.

Even though you kept your distance from your captor, your words barely a whisper as if not to disturb the man sitting on the ground, holding the side of his stomach, Calcharo flinched at the sound of your voice, cranking his head back to look at you. His gaze was unreadable, his whole face a mask free of emotions. But judging by the pool of blood collecting next to him, the wound must have hurt, even if he showed no signs of it.

"I promised I'd be back—" he mumbled as a ripple of tension tightened his muscles, everything in him readying his body to get up from his spot. As if greeting you properly was needed at that moment. But with his teeth bared, the gaping wound stole all of his strength, making him sack back to the dusty ground with a muffled groan.

"Give me a moment. It'll heal."

Curiosity killed the cat as you stretched your neck, bile rising to the top of your throat at the nasty sight of the gash. Even Calcharo's big hands—that you remembered so vividly squeezing and pulling at your body—weren't enough to cover the wound completely, blood soaking all of his clothes and staining the floor. Wasn't there medicine for that kind of injury? Although, seeing a doctor would probably be more appropriate. If it wasn't for the awkward situation you were in, you'd have freaked out at even the thought of seeing someone so badly injured, yet all you could do was stand in one spot, a good five steps out of his reach.

Even when you fiddled with your hands, wrenching and holding them, you were less anxious, knowing he wasn't in the condition to harass you that day. He'd been gone for a while, leaving you to your own devices and the evergrowing boredom. But you were still undecided if you preferred him being back and constantly hovering over you, watching and testing your reactions, or the loneliness and isolation you experienced, chained up and hidden away who-knew-where when he was gone. Both were unideal; both were destructive behavior on his part. You didn't have much choice in it, but him coming back severely injured was a situation you hadn't grown accustomed to yet.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

His head jerked upwards, eyes narrowing at you suspiciously. Yeah... you surprised yourself, too. You weren't the type to offer help, especially not to him. You were his captive, nothing more, nothing less.

"Or not..." Hands falling to your side, you fiddled with the seam of your shirt instead, avoiding his gaze as always. To Calcharo, you were an object to be observed, one he owned now but still couldn't help but expect to be betrayed by. As if you were going to pull a knife out any second now and stab him, even after he immobilized you with the chains around your legs. He was that kind of man; that much you had learned about him, even if it barely seemed to graze the surface. You began hating the feeling of his eyes on you the moment he revealed himself to you in this shabby hideout, his gaze so incisive it hurt. As if his eyes were daggers that he dragged through your flesh, stabbing over and over in an attempt to rip out your soul for him to observe.

"There are some bandages behind the mirror in the bathroom."

Torn from your thoughts, you couldn't help but stare back at him, even as his head fell forward again, his gaze disappearing. You two didn't have that kind of relationship. You didn't help him when he was in need, so you felt surprised at the simple instructions. They held no weight as if he didn't care whether you followed them or not—as if he expected you not to, rightfully so. Glancing at the blood, you thought that a bandage might be useless, that he needed stitches at least. But Calcharo said nothing more, pressing his palm harder against the wound without making another sound. Your head turned towards the door leading to the bathroom, and although it felt wrong to consider helping him, a compassionate part of you recognized that he needed you, your feet slowly turning away, picking up the pace as you disappeared from his sight.

The mirror caught your reflection as you flicked on the light. You had seen better days that much was sure. You weren't famished, the bags under your eyes more from anxiety and stress than lack of sleep. However, the green glow of the light didn't do you any favors either, and although you didn't think of yourself as ugly, you could only wonder what your kidnapper saw in you that he had to take such drastic measures. You were just you. That seemed to have been enough for him, even if it was strange.

The chain around your ankle felt twice as heavy as you wondered how long you'd be in this situation. Would you ever be free? Would he let you go if you helped him? Calcharo had always been silent when you asked him for his reasons. He'd sit by your bedside and wipe away your tears if you cried, begging him to be reasonable, but he never gave you the answers to console you. That was the kind of man you had offered help to. Someone so cold and selfish.

Opening the cabinet, you realized you had never looked behind the mirror before. Why? you wondered, but you were surprised at the amount of medical equipment. There were a couple of first aid kits and a box of resonator-only medicine and tools. He had every shelf stocked fully, and although he only asked for a bandage, you took at least one of everything you could find.

Calcharo was eerily quiet when you returned to his side. It made your pulse rise momentarily as you feared he might have died in the minute you were gone. The chain you were strung to clattered as you ran over, dropping to your knees next to his, dropping some of the extra weight from your arms to the floor in a moment of panic. You realized your closeness too late, anxiety shivering down your spine with how little distance there was between you two. But your focus shifted instantly, relief filling you as Calcharo looked up at you again, his eyes dropping to the items crammed between your arms and body. He scanned over your haul, and you immediately felt silly for worrying about him at all. He was perfectly fine, it seemed.

But what would you have done if he died?

You didn't know how to get out of here in the first place. Calcharo had never shown you any keys to undo your chains or to open any doors. There were no windows, and if you got out, there was no guarantee you wouldn't be in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by Tacet Discords going for your throat. These thoughts made your heart sink with a sense of panic as if reality was finally hitting you over your head. Or perhaps it was the thought of living with a corpse until you found your demise here as well. Either way, you were glad when he reached for one of the packages, revealing some round pills that he slipped between his lips, glancing up at you for a moment as if to make sure you were watching him swallow them. You fiddled with the medical utensils until you found another package, wanting to give it to him, but he shook his head as you held it out.

"Just use the bandage."

"You want me to do it?" you asked, reluctant to simply act. Glancing at the first aid kit, you were sure you'd find some there, but so far, Calcharo had always handled himself around you. Even when you had an outburst, trying to hit him, he'd let you slap him across the face rather than stop you. You'd half-expected him to retaliate when you stumbled back, recognizing his strength as superior and bracing for the impact, but it never came. He had always remained calm and composed, even with the glowing red hand-mark across his cheek.

It was the same with food or bathing. Calcharo always had enough rations stocked, and if he was back at the hideout, he made you meals all the time, only eating your leftovers or getting something for himself after you had your share. And he never took a shower first, ensuring you had all the warm water that would eventually turn cold (sometimes you let it run out of protest). You thought it might have simply been resourcefulness, but you began overthinking your beliefs now that he wanted you to do something for him.

"Are you sure?" you asked him again. There was a sense of exhaustion when he looked up at you, and much to your own surprise once more, you quickly snatched the first aid kit when he reached for it. "I can do it! Just didn't think you'd want me to..."

Calcharo let out a short grunt before lowering his arm again, not fighting you on this, but his eyes followed every one of your movements as you fiddled with the first aid kit. Ridden with sudden determination, you almost dropped all the contents on the undoubtedly nonsterile floor, only catching the bandage midair while some of the tools clattered to the ground. Quick as lightning, Calcharo caught a small pair of scissors before they could graze your leg, his bloody fist wrapping around it so tightly, you could see his knuckles whiten through the red sheen.

You gulped, watching him drag the scissors and his arm back to his side, too afraid to straighten your gaze and see the wound in full glory. When you agreed that you could do it, you had temporarily forgotten about the truly gut-wrenching part of medical treatment, and suddenly, you were even less sure about all of this.

Calcharo grumbled under his breath, noticing your sudden stiffness. His free hand reached out to touch yours. "Open it," he muttered, and his words put your body into motion. Following his instructions was so much easier than working through the thoughts that made you hesitate. He grabbed the start of the bandage from your hands once you unwrapped it, waiting for you to get onto what he was doing as he placed it over his naval before pressing it down onto the wound.

There was some visible comfort in the way his shoulders rose tensely as he covered the wound, but he dragged the now bloody bandage over the gash with skilled precision. As if he had done this countless of times, and you were almost certain he had. You reckoned that his life must not have been easy if he got so used to hurting himself for the sake of simply healing. But you quickly reminded yourself not to sympathize with him. To not forget how he wronged you despite this moment of unusual humanity. Usually, he appeared to you more like a monster, but right then, he was but a wounded soldier, and perhaps your parents had been right; you were too good-hearted for your own good.

Dragging the bandage to his side, Calchero stopped, huffing as you had stopped unwrapping more of it. He pulled his legs in so he could push his torso off the wall before he looked up at you. Gulping, you knew what you had to do. It wasn't like he wouldn't do it himself, but it was honestly ridiculous that you sat there frozen in place now that you had come so far. Inching closer, you positioned yourself between his legs, hesitating for a split second more before you reached out your arms, wrapping them around his front to reach behind Calcharo.

Carefully, perhaps with less pressure than he would have liked, you wrapped and pulled the bandage from his back to his front again. Calchero released it once he noticed you taking action, but when you reached the blood-soaked gash again, it was his hand that did the dirty work, pressing the bandage down. There was about one more round that you could make, and you quickly guided the wrap around him once more before making an amateurish knot on his healthy side. It was far from perfect, and you tried to ignore the feeling of his blood coating your hands now, too. It didn't feel like you helped him, but it was what he had wanted.

Placing your hands on the ground, you wanted to get up again, get some healthy distance between you two, and clean your hands if you got the chance. But before you could even slip one leg out from underneath you, Calchero's whole body suddenly collapsed forward. In a spurt of a moment reaction, you grabbed him by the shoulders, pushing your own between his collarbones to brace against his weight that could have easily buried you underneath it.

"H-Hey!" you called out, unsure what was happening, when you suddenly felt him inhale deeply, his hot breath releasing against your chest, sending shivers down your spine. And then, he chuckled.

"I didn't think you would."

His voice vibrated against your skin as he spoke them directly into your body. You didn't know what to say nor what he meant, but you felt the goosebumps rise across your arms and neck.

Calchero lifted himself just enough to nuzzle his face between your neck and shoulder, his weight so heavy as it rested on top of you. All you could do was curl your fingers into his body, and you cursed yourself for not immediately pushing him away, a small part of you afraid you might agitate the wound.

"Didn't think you'd care about me."

"I don't," you clarified, sounding pouty rather than confident. It had been a mistake, after all. You should have just let him sort out his own mess and stop being a busybody and help. Then, you wouldn't be in this situation now, your pulse throbbing in your ears as your heart began to beat faster with the anxiety and discomfort.

"I'm glad," he muttered. "Glad you care."

"I don't!"

This time, you did push. At least you tried. Calcharo didn't move an inch away from you, his head resting on your shoulder, his body threatening to bury you underneath if you didn't stay solid in your spot. The thought of Calcharo trapping you on purpose crossed your mind, and you hated yourself for not seeing it coming, walking right into the trap. And even if not, he was clearly exploiting the situation for all it was worth!

Of course, he'd take advantage of your kindness. Of course, he'd use your naivety and kindness to exploit you for something he wanted. Even if you questioned why it had to be you, why he kidnapped you of all people, his intentions—albeit disciplined—had always been clear. Although he held himself back from doing something regrettable so far, you had caught him touching you often: touching your hand while passing you a plate with food, brushing away hair from your face right after waking up, and letting his fingers glide over your arms or legs while you had dozed off, just to name a few. You should have been more careful. Should have listened to your body telling you to stay away. It might have just been something akin to a hug, but you should have never allowed him to go this far.

What if he took your kindness for consent?

"Please stop," you mumbled, feeling the tears shoot into your eyes. You didn't need to turn your head to know his eyes had opened, probably after hearing the sob in your voice. You wished you were stronger, able to push him away. Wished you could have fought him and caused him to stop liking you—wanting you. Wished you never even thought of him as anything but a monster.

"Just a little bit longer," he mumbled, lips brushing against your skin. Even when hiccups shook your body, Calchero didn't move, didn't budge. It seemed he didn't care anymore, getting exactly what he wanted. All you could do was sit there and wait for it to end, just like always. You felt his gaze vanish, the closeness allowing him to observe you differently, without needing to see when he could instead feel you.

His arms wrapped around your body, and you felt more trapped than ever, the feeling only registering when he said two more words that day,

"Thank you."

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onmyyan · 3 months ago

Text

Yandere DC Purge Au

A/N: inspired by a bot on janitor ai here's the link reader is this universes wolverine fem reader, yandere themes

Getting home from the Titans Tower, you shrug off your brown leather biker jacket, letting the heavy garment fall to the floor with an audible thump.

Boot clad feet accidentally kick a small black elegantly wrapped package that been slipped through your mail slot. (E/c) Eyes full of curiosity, you bend down to pick up the box, it was a little bigger than your hand, unable to fight the curiosity, you threw your helmet on the couch and used your sharp pointer finger nail to tear a seam into the paper, your mind moved a mile a minute as five neat letters in black envelopes were revealed.

Your heart falls to your stomach, you knew what these letters meant, what they entailed, you'd been chosen, and not by one yandere, but five. You didn't bother to read the letters, setting them down on your coffee table like the paper was going to bite you, sitting on the couch with a groan, your shoulders coiled like a animal ready to pounce. In all your 24 years you'd never had to deal with a yandere, while you were aware of them of course, your particular lifestyle didn't allow for such things, you were a hero after all, you couldn't help but tense, yes you were a formidable fighter, yes you had confidence in your abilities to defend yourself but five separate psycho's? That was a lot to deal with even for you.

You had a day to prepare, that's all the decency the government allowed people like her. A day to prepare for the insanity that was the Purge. All former plans for a quiet week off patrols were gone, replaced by your fierce determination. You wouldn't be caught, you'd been caged enough for your lifetime.

The next morning you make your way into the Titans Tower business as usual, you had no idea who the senders of the letters were so you kept your guard up.

It was a tradition for the team to hang out one last time before the purge, since all crime, including all yandere crime, was legal, the team technically got a week long vacation. So they liked to hangout the day before those infamous sirens would ring out across the city. The whole team was there, doing their usual things when you were approached by Rachel Roth aka Raven.

"Your mind is.. guarded tonight, are you alright?" Her soft monotone voice calls out dragging you from your mind, "Yeah just ..tense about tomorrow ya know?" Your voice gruff yet feminine, you didn't mind the fact that she was peaking into your head, having long since gotten used to her antics, instead you lean back on the counter surveying the room with a calculated gaze. You kept your thoughts clear knowing she had a penchant for reading your mind without permission, you didn't want to tell the team about the letters for a multitude of reasons, the main one being you didn't know if it was one of them who sent it. Of course you trusted your team but you'd learned long ago to trust yourself before anyone else.

And your enhanced animal like senses told you danger was a foot. "Any big plans for the week?" You ask casually still observing your other teammates.

"I rented a cabin in the snow, very tranquil, very secluded.." she paused a moment her dark eyes scanning your features, "You could come with me- if you don't want to spend the purge alone?" The question hung heavy in the air, the intensity in her gaze made you smirk, no way in hell were you taking a trip right now.

"I actually have some plans already." You smiled at the dark haired sorceress, trying to soothe the wound of denial. "Well if you at any point change your mind simply call for me and I'll be there." She says flatly, but her steel gaze was as intense as ever.

"Definitely." You respond before pushing off the counter, "I'm gonna hit the gym, see you later Rav."

'Well that was something' you thought to yourself, she'd always been attached to you, finding comfort in your troubled past, but she'd never looked so..like that before.

Shaking off the encounter you find yourself in the gym toned (s/c) arms stretching across your chest in preparation, a training dummy standing across from you. Just before you throw the first punch Conner aka Superboy walks in the room his arms crossed. "You wanna keep playing with that thing or you want a real fight?" The tall wall of a man asks walking closer to you, this wasn't out of the ordinary as you were one of the only people on the team who could keep up with Conner physically.

"let's go." You say getting into a fighting stance, your feet wide, fists in front of your face.

The spar was intense as usual with him, he didn't hold back, because of your healing factor he didn't need to, and you preferred it that way. You two danced around the mat swiping at each other, trading blows that would send a normal human to the grave. Your adamantium covered skeleton allowed you to land hits on him that actually sent him reeling. Your breath came out in heavy pants as Conner made an expert dodge, he sweeps his leg under you catching you off guard enough to stumble backwards, he grips your tank top stopping you from hitting the mat staring at you for a second too long before bringing you into a head lock, panting in your ear, "You give?" You could hear the smirk on his face, you growl under your breath, "Fuck off.", elbowing him hard enough to make him release you, instead of getting angry he just grins at you looking like an animal about to pounce.

The spar ends in a draw both of you covered in sweat, "you wanna hang out tomorrow?" He asks wiping his forehead, you pause thinking over the fact that tomorrow was the first night of the Purge, sure is didn't start until 7pm but it was risky as hell to go about business as usual on the day of.

"Sorry big guy I'm fully booked." The lie flows off your tongue easily enough, you couldn't risk getting Conner involved in whatever the yanderes had planned for you tomorrow, you also couldn't rule him out as a suspect yet.

The rest of your day is full of similar interactions with your team, Garfield aka Beast Boy had invited you over to his place for a gaming fueled sleepover, pouting when you decline, Kori aka Starfire had offered to straight up stay with you for the duration of the purge, looking absolutely confused as to why you'd said no.

The day ends with you gathering your things as you wouldn't be in the tower for a week. Damian, the current Robin and leader of your team walks over before you can leave. "I assume you've made preparations?" The enigmatic man spoke in that usual Damian tone that you could never quite get a read on. "I'll be fine." Was your simple answer. His green eyes studied you, taking in your response. He simply smirks at you before bidding you goodnight.

You got zero sleep that night the rainy Gotham skies a background to your inner turmoil. Your instincts said to run so you were. A few minutes before the sirens go off, you're in your garage, a duffle bag thrown over your shoulders, when you notice your bike's tires have been slashed, both of them deflated.

Cursing under your breath you steady your nerves before heading back up to your apartment. Navigating the streets of Gotham on the first night of the purge was a bad idea even for a self healing mutant with adamantium claws like yourself. Instead you choose to take the situation as it came, barricading the front door with a bookshelf, you pour yourself a double shot of whiskey and light the cigar you'd been saving for a special occasion.

The shrill terror inducing sound of the annual purge sirens go off on schedule, you remain unflinching as you prepare yourself for the inevitable encounter.

About five minutes after the bell stops ringing there's a loud knock on your door, the handle jingling seconds after, "(Y/n), open the door." The command was given pleadingly. You recognized that voice, the hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention. You were prepared for some nobody to try and claim you. Not him.

"We're getting in there no matter what so you may as well just," a loud bang shook the wood, "Open up." A second voice spoke out, this one just as familiar as the first, your heart fell to your stomach at the realization, the other three didn't need to speak for you to guess they were out there.

Your eyes quickly scan the window of your apartment, you were on the third floor but it was an easy drop for someone with your healing ability.

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be." The third gruff voice speaks before a gunshot is heard, the bastard had shot out your front door lock, a blue eye peaked in the hole locking onto you instantly a predatory look in the gaze. "There you are kitty." He says before glaring at the bookshelf in his way, it doesn't take much for him to start throwing his shoulder into the wood of the door.

"Don't scare her." The fourth voice chimed in but did nothing to stop the man barreling into your apartment. By the time the five entered you had already booked it out the window, your broken ankles healing as you sprint down the dimly lit Gotham streets.

"She's on the move." Bruce finally speaks, his authoritative voice left no room for argument. Damian was the first to act scaling down the apartment so fast he skipped some steps, he was a man on a mission.

Dick was quick to follow flipping out the window and landing gracefully before giving chase. Tim quickly pulled out a tablet tracking your every move.

Jason snarls at the chase, running after you like a beast on the hunt. Bruce follows behind in the batmobile with Tim guiding him to your location in the passenger seat, each man's heart burning for you.

The night had just begun and you were now playing a game you wanted no part in.

#yananswers #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere dc imagine #yandere dc x reader #yandere dc #yandere batfamily x reader #yandere batfamily #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x reader

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darkbluekies · 7 months ago

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GOLDEN TRIAL PT1: In the belly of the beast

Part 2

Yandere!mafia x yandere!female!mafia x female!yandere x yandere!king x yandere!doctor x male!detective!reader

Summary: Its 1935 and you've been sent on the Liner Normandie to retrieve a stolen painting. You have six suspects and the clock is ticking — you only have four days before the ship reaches New York to find it. But soon, you find yourself caught up in something even more serious than you could have believed.

Warnings: getting hit in the head with a bottle, kidnapping, mentions of drugging, stalker behavior, light misogyny(?), guns, needles, violence

Word count: 11.7k

DAY 1 — Debark

The ship towers over you like a mad giant. Gray smoke rises from the two forward funnels. It’s the biggest in the world, bigger than any man made object that can float. You shake your head. Focus. You’re not here for pleasure. You continue your way over to the terminal. The agency sent you in hopes of finding the lost painting, no one else. You need to stay focused, they’re counting on you.

Without questioning, you give the fake ID to the man behind the desk. When you had started out as an agent, you were always nervous that your covers would be blown and you would be found out. Nowadays, you’ve noticed that if you look nervous, risk are that you’ll be asked questions.

You walk over the gangway with your bag in hand. You have just above four days to find the painting — a very famous portrait of a woman with her head slightly turned to the viewer, wearing a big, blank pearl earring. It was stolen from the Mauritshuis in the Netherlands two weeks ago, and details have revealed that it has been taken to France, and will be moved to America on the SS Normandie. The painting itself isn’t insanely big, but the fuss about it’s disappearance is. You have to find it at all cost.

Before you got here, you had time to take a look at the passenger list. There are six people you recognise, where of five could be your potential smugglers.

Silas Achilleos, a mob boss wanted by the police, and his second in command. A man like him was probably not interested in paintings, but he could have clients who did. And those could pay him heaps of money.

Edmund of Vesanus, a young king who likes the bachelor life. He surrounds himself with loads of women and alcohol, partying like nothing matters. He would take the painting because he doesn’t want anyone else to have it. He’s traveling with his doctor, a certain Karl Kry who you don’t know much about.

Hedwig Carter, a young heiress who’s father is noble, and who's mother is famous in the acting business is traveling with a young woman named Jerry Kim, someone you guess is Hedwig’s chaperone. Hedwig is known for getting whatever she wants with a snap of her fingers, and if she wants a painting … she will get it. Jerry, however, does not have much information out in the open. Everything about her before she started to work for Hedwig is wiped away. You want to know who she is and where she comes from, and what she would want a painting for.

You walk down the stairs to your cabin on A-deck and start to pack up, using the second bed in the room to store your bag. After settling in, you decide to take a look around this magnificent vessel to get familiar with it. You make your way up to the promenade deck and give the open cinema by the stairs a quick look. You guess that they’re going to put on movies once the ship reaches open water. If you’re lucky you’ll see something interesting. And hopefully, you have the time to watch it.

The promenade is enclosed decorated with a gray floor, comfortable deck chairs and clear windows. A line in the tricolor fashion runs along the floor, as if to show where to walk. You walk on the line, flashing a little childish smile. You’ve left Le Havre and are on your way out towards the Atlantic’s open arms. The clock is ticking.

Your eyes lock onto someone walking towards you and you immediately realize that it is Hedwig and her chaperone, an east asian girl … wearing pants and a long sleeved shirt. You don’t realize how obvious it is that you’re staring until the woman opens her mouth and you realize that they’ve stopped right in front of you.

“What are you staring at, sir?” she asks, raising her eyebrows and putting her hands in her pockets. “If you want to say something, do it.”

“No—no, sorry”, you say quickly, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I didn’t mean to stare.”

“Tell me, do you approve of women who wear pants?”

It sure looks weird, but is it? When you think about it, aren't pants just pieces of the same fabric as skirts, just sewn differently?

“Uh, I … suppose so.”

To that, Jerry nods approvingly.

“I don’t see why only men should wear pants”, she says.

“Well, I don't feel comfortable wearing them”, Hedwig chuckles nervously and smiles softly. “But they fit you, Jerry. They really do.”

“You must be miss Carter”, you say, as if you don't know, and shake her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, please call me Hedwig! Who are you?”

“I’m Axel Ainsworth, I'm in the art industry.”

Hedwig’s smile widens. “That is very interesting, I love art. Especially portraits. Capturing humanity’s differences and details are magical. Don’t you think so, Jerry?”

“I’m more for that new thing — surrealism, I think it’s called — where everything is here and there and weird to believe”, Jerry says, shrugging. “But portraits can be okay too, depending on what type.”

Hedwig has turned her eyes to you, glued them onto you as if you are the only thing she could ever see. “Are you traveling alone, mister Ainsworth?” she asks.

You have remembered your entire forged background and learned it skillfully. Even your fake name rolls off the tongue as smoothly as if it was your real name. You're traveling alone because you're on your way home to your fiancé from a business trip.

“I see”, Hedwig smiles and turns to the woman next to her. “Let me introduce you to my chaperone, miss Jerry Kim. You're always welcome to sit with us during dinner. We'd be more than happy to accompany you.”

“I'm grateful to know that, miss.”

With that said, the two women walk away. You frown and sigh. Hedwig seems like a very sweet young woman, it’d be a shame if it was her who was the culprit. Her chaperone, on the other hand, gives you weird vibes. Something about the look in her eyes … as if she’s looking right through you, scanning you.

You continue down the promenade until you turn into the Winter Garden, a half moon-shaped room full of plants and lamps and big, wide windows, overlooking the special shaped bow that has given Normandie the speed it has. Passengers have already started gathering in the Winter Garden to talk to friends and family and watch how Normandie makes her way out onto the Atlantic. None of them resembles the men you’re looking for. You continue your way through the ship, eventually finding yourself in the smoking room on the embarkment deck, where you had stepped onto the ship. You had only glanced at the room before, but now when you’re standing in the smoking room — and very well the lounge since they’re connected — you realize how stupid you must have been to miss it. There must be ten meters up to the ceiling, you think, and bigger than a concert hall. A long, grey staircase leads up to the outside deck. The art deco interior is modern and sleek, but the whip overall has a classic, conservative design that reminds you of the great liners of the old age. You sigh while thinking of the Mauretania and the Olympic, Britain's biggest rivals which now are laid up in Jarrowtown, side by side, ready to be scrapped. There’s something melancholy about it all, and at the same time something beautiful, starting as enemies and now ending it all under the same flag, together.

You shake your head. Focus. Your eyes catch someone standing by the windows, someone very familiar. Silas and his right hand man. You move closer, trying to hear what they’re talking about.

“I’m not complaining, I just think that it is annoying that it has to take four days to get to America”, Silas mutters and takes a whiff off his cigar.

“Any other ship would take double the time, sir”, his second in command says apologetically. “I doublechecked.”

“I don’t like being in one place for too long.”

“See it as a vacation. You’re deserving of it. Let’s enjoy some good food, alcohol and some company. It’ll do you good.”

“I don’t like to be in one place too long. Especially when we know that they're on board!”

You furrow your brows. Who?

“Nothing will happen.”

Silas hums and smokes again. You’ve stood by the windows a few meters away, pretending to be interested in the horizon. Silas turns his eyes to you.

“You, sir”, he says, pointing at you with his cigar.

You look away from the ocean. Both Silas and his second in command have turned to you, their dark eyes looking right at you.

“Yes?” you ask.

“Is it true that the Normandie keeps her speed?” Silas asks. “No matter the weather?”

“I believe so, sir.”

Silas nods in satisfaction. “Good.”

You decide to try to get some information out of him. You know who he is, but he doesn’t know who you are, doesn’t know that you’re out to get him. To him, you’re just another first class passenger.

“Are you in a hurry?” you wonder.

“You could say that”, Silas sighs and turns his eyes out the window again.

You hold out your hand. “I’m Axel Ainsworth.”

Silas second in command gives him a short look before his boss shakes your hand. His grip is hard, firm.

“You can call me Silas”, he says. “No need for a surname.” He takes another blow on the cigar. “What brings you out on the ocean like this?”

“I’ve been on a business trip, but now I’m going home to my fiancé”, you say, pretending to smile at the thought of your made up fiancé.

“What business are you in?”

“Art.”

Silas lifts one of black his eyebrows. “Art?”

His second in command straightens his back.

“Yes, sir”, you say.

“Are you a … painter?” Silas wonders.

“God no, I can’t handle a brush even if my life depended on it. I’m an art trader, I help people sell their paintings for the right price.”

“I see. Well, one can’t do everything.” He blows a cloud of smoke. “Have you traveled on this ship before, Axel?”

“No, it’s my first time. But I’m not unfamiliar with the ocean, I used to travel a lot on the older ships in my younger days.”

“Then I suppose you have a favorite?”

You think for a second. “I did like that Cunarder, the Lusitania … such a shame Germany sunk it.”

“You never know which ships are safe or not, just look at that Titanic fiasco. They thought it was the safest ship afloat. Yeah, sure it was.” Silas shrugs. “Wouldn’t surprise if this peace of junk also sinks. Why wouldn’t it?”

“Well …”

Silas’s second in command taps him on the shoulder and whispers something in his ear. Silas frowns and nods before turning to you.

“It was nice speaking with you, but I have some business to deal with”, he says shortly.

“Have a good day”, you say.

Silas nods politely and leaves. You follow him and his second in command with your eyes until they’ve left the smoking room. He was nicer than you had anticipated.

Your next suspect, you find in the dining hall that evening. You’ve met up with Hedwig and Jerry in the reception. Hedwig is wearing a pink evening gown with pink gloves. Her honey blonde hair is curled and put up with hairpins. Jerry is wearing a dark purple, sleeveless dress, showing a couple tattoos. In her short, black hair, there’s a little decoration that reminds you of a flower. She's wearing dark lipstick, in contrast to Hedwig who wears a Hollywood red.

“They wouldn’t let me in unless I dressed ladylike”, she mutters.

“I think that you look gorgeous, Jerry”, Hedwig smiles and takes her hand.

“I guess that it isn’t that bad.”

“I like your tattoos”, you say. “Where did you get them from?”

“A tattoo artist, of course.” She then twists her arm to show something on the inner side of her bicep. “Okay, I made this one myself.”

You step closer, seeing a small heart tattooed on her arm.

“That’s cute”, you smile.

“Thank you”, Jerry smiles smugly. “Hurts like hell though.”

“I can imagine.”

The stewards allow you into the dining room and — for what feels like the thousand time today — you’re amazed by the interior. Silver walls with golden ceiling and art decor wherever you could see. In the middle of the long dining hall, there’s a gigantic, golden statue of a woman.

Hedwig and Jerry leads you to a table and sit down. That’s when you see your last suspects. They’re walking through the dining hall, dressed in tuxedos. The king can’t be more than twenty years old. His doctor is a minimum of fifteen years older.

“You son of a bitch”, he says suddenly and looks at the table you’re sitting at. “Hedwig?”

Hedwig’s eyes widen in shock.

“Edmund, what are you doing here?” she asks with a smile. “Sit with us, please.”

The king and his doctor sit down at your table.

“Good evening”, the blonde doctor says and shakes yours and Jerry's hand before introducing himself. “I’m Doctor Kry.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Axel Ainsworth”, you say.

“This is king Edmund.”

You’re about to shake his hand, but Doctor Kry removes your hand.

“I’m sorry, but he doesn’t shake people’s hands”, he whispers.

“Oh, I see”, you say.

The king gives you a bored look.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, your majesty”, you tell him politely.

“How do you know Hedwig?” he asks shortly. “I haven’t seen you before.”

“We met today”, Hedwig smiles. “Axel, Edmund is my relative. It’s been months since we last saw each other.”

“I’ve told you to visit.”

“I know.”

“Are you that much of a hypochondriac that you need a doctor to accompany you while you’re traveling?” Jerry chuckles.

“What are you doing here, Jerry?” Edmund mutters coldly.

“She’s my chaperone”, Hedwig explains.

“Oh fuck me.”

“Your majesty, maybe you should think about your language”, Doctor Kry says. “We are around others.”

Edmund rolls his eyes before looking at you in a bored manner.

“Tell me”, he says, “where do you come from, mister Ainsworth?”

You ramble your rehearsed background. Edmund nods along with you.

“I’ve always wanted to visit that place”, Doctor Kry says. “I’ve heard that it is a beautiful city.”

“It is”, you say.

“And now you’re going to America”, Edmund says. “What were you doing in France?”

“I was on a business trip.”

“What type?”

It strikes you as odd. He doesn’t sound interested, but still he asks you curious questions.

“I’m in the art business”, you say.

“What for?” Edmund wonders.

“Art is beautiful and should be getting what it is worth.”

“I like art”, Doctor Kry. “I would do anything to see the Mona Lisa.”

“Why didn’t you visit it when you were in France?” Hedwig wonders.

“We didn’t have time … Edmund didn’t want to go there.”

“Why should I squash together with other people to see paintings?” Edmund scoffs. “If I want to see a painting, I get it for myself. That’s that.”

“But do you like art, your majesty?” you ask.

“Everyone likes art”, Edmund replies nonchalantly. “That’s what gives life meaning.”

“Have you read a certain story, Edmund, called ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’?” Jerry asks with a teasing smile. “Thought that it’d fit you.”

The story is about a man who wants nothing more than to remain youthful … to the point where he has a painting of himself where all of his sins can be seen. In the end, the picture is as gruesome as can be, but Dorian himself is as youthful as he started.

“Oh, shut up, Jerry”, Edmund mutters angrily. “One day, I’ll teach you manners, believe me.”

Jerry smirks.

You eat dinner together with the young king and the doctor. Afterward, to soothe your aching stomach, the five of you walk up to the outside promenade deck to get some fresh air. You strut under the lifeboats, under the stars. Above you, a big luminous sign spells out the name 'NORMANDIE’, casting a soft light on you. Doctor Kry has lent his blazer to Hedwig, and you’ve tried to offer yours to Jerry who refused before you had the time to open your mouth.

“Ladies, I think it’s time for you to retreat”, Edmund says, sounding sweeter than before. “It’s starting to get late.”

“The evening is young”, Jerry insists.

“I’m tired”, Hedwig yawns.

“Jerry, be a good girl and bring Hedwig to your cabin”, Edmund grits. “Please. I’m not fighting with you again.”

Jerry rolls her eyes, removes the doctor’s blazer and tells you goodnight. Hedwig gives you and Edmund a hug. Her flowery perfume clogs up your nose, dulls your head for a moment. The three of you wish the girls a pleasant evening and continue walking.

“Hedwig is a stupid girl”, Edmund says, strolling slowly. “One can’t help but want to take care of her.”

“She seems very sweet”, you admit.

“She is. Just very naive. I’ve promised her father that I’m going to take care of her whenever I meet her.”

“Her chaperone is … interesting”, Doctor Kry remarks.

“God, yes, I hate her!”

“What is it about her that you don’t like?” you ask curiously.

“I do not like girls like her. Did you see her tattoos? She often walks around in man’s clothing and I don’t think it’s fitting for a woman — especially someone that is close to my relative. I don’t want her influencing Hedwig.”

“I don’t think you have to worry, your majesty”, Doctor Kry says calmly. “I think Hedwig is going to be okay.”

“If there’s one thing I’m glad for, it is that Hedwig is predictable.” He groans. “I need a cigar. Let’s go to the smoking room.” Edmund turns around to give you a look. “Axel, are you joining?”

“I don’t know”, you reply. “It’s the first day, I’m still tired from embarking.”

“Don’t tell me that you’re going to bed now.” He looks at his expensive watch. “The clock is ten. Stay one hour.”

You give up and follow them to the smoking room. Maybe it is for the best. If you want to get close to them, you’ll need to spend as much time observing them as you can.

Sitting with them in the smoking room, you find that Silas and his second in command aren't here among the other men. You frown, thinking that they would be here since they were earlier.

When you’re allowed to leave, two hours later, your mind is fogged up by smoke and whiskey. You make your way through the empty corridors to your cabin, closing and locking it behind you. Tiredly, you sink down on your bed and sigh out. You have observed them, and talked with them the entire day, and yet you haven’t figured out who could be hiding the painting. They all seem interested in art. They all could have taken it.

There's so many questions. What kind of doctor is Kry? Where did Jerry come from and why is there no information about her? Why would someone like Hedwig hire her as her chaperone? And who is that person that Silas doesn't want on board? Is there someone you haven't accounted for, someone else that can have stolen the painting?

You hide your face in your hands and groan. Three days left.

DAY 2 — Sea

You wake up early, get ready and head out into the corridor. You lock the cabin door behind you, feeling the handle to make sure that it is locked and make your way to the Winter Garden to have a cup of coffee. The large windows give you a wide view of the calm ocean. The sun rises up from the blue water in a magical sense that has you hypnotized. It's all so very quiet and relaxing.

After your cup of coffee, you stretch your muscles, and contemplate going down to the swimming pool to take a few laps, to warm up your muscles and clear your head for the day's work. You pay the purser and make your way down to the swimming pool on D deck. The tile walls are covered with art that reminds you of ancient Greece and the new, abstract type of paint. The pool itself was formed as a long rectangle with curved corners, green steel ladders, and a steep and a shallow part. Throughout the shallow part, there were thick, dull spikes, likely to stop children from going out into the deep end.

Despite being the early hours of the first morning on board, someone is already in the water. Doctor Kry.

“Good morning”, he says. “You’re up early.”

“So are you”, you reply.

“I always need to clear my head before starting the day.”

“What about the king? Is he swimming too?”

“Don't kid around. He doesn’t wake up until nine. I wouldn’t be able to get him out of bed before that anyways. He’s a very deep sleeper and hates getting woken up.”

You feel your heart skip a beat.

“Where do you have your cabin?” you ask.

“On the promenade deck, one of the suites. A-54.”

Bingo.

“Why do you ask?” Doctor Kry wonders.

“I was just thinking that since the king doesn't want to be disturbed, choosing the right cabin place is important.”

“Did we choose a good cabin then?”

You nod, despite not knowing a single thing about cabin placements. The only thing you're aware of is to be as far away from the noisy engine room as possible.

Perhaps if you asked the purser, you could get the number of the other cabins. He, if anyone, should have the passenger list.

You glance back at Doctor Kry who's still hanging by the side of the pool. This is your time to investigate him. You slowly get into the water.

“Such a shame that you didn't get to visit the Mona Lisa”, you say as you start to swim. “It's a very pretty painting.”

“So I've heard”, Doctor Kry says slowly.

“My favorite painting is ‘the girl with the pearl earrings’, have you had the opportunity to see it?”

He's quiet for a second.

“I haven't”, he says, sounding low. “I guess that, an art trader like you, must be troubled by its disappearance.”

“Of course”, you answer.

At this point, a detective and an art trader don't seem like different things, especially since both would be looking for the same thing.

“Can I ask you something?” you wonder.

“It depends”, Doctor Kry says. “Go ahead.”

“Forgive me for being nosy, but why doesn't his majesty like Jerry?”

“He is very old fashioned. He doesn't think that women should be dressed in pants or have tattoos. Edmund is very self centered, yes, but he's also very possessive of the ones he holds dear — example being miss Hedwig. As you may know, his parents were murdered by enemies to the monarchy and ever since, the only relatives that have been in his life have been Hedwig and her family. They're very close in age too — Hedwig being eighteen and Edmund nineteen — which has been a very important thing for him. He sees her as a friend, maybe his only friend. So having someone that could potentially blemish his friend and only family is a threat to Edmund.”

“Then why does Hedwig have Jerry?”

“I don't know. It could be because of a teenage revolt. Jerry is different to everything that Hedwig has ever known … and now that she's eighteen she might want to try something new.”

“Do you think that Edmund is worried about her? Because of Jerry?”

“I wouldn't say worried, because the only thing the king worries about is himself, but I think that there's something along those lines. I think that he sees Hedwig as an extended part of himself rather than her own person.”

You nod carefully.

“I wonder where Hedwig found Jerry” you say. “How someone like her could get the job as Hedwig’s chaperone. Do you know where she comes from?”

Doctors Kry suddenly laughs.

“You ask an awful amount of questions this early in the morning”, he says and gets out of the water. “I'm sorry, I don't have more answers for you, Axel.”

You look up at him, where he stands on the tile floor. He looks down at you with a small smirk.

“You remind me of a little boy”, he says and lowers his eyes onto your physic. “You're awfully trained to be an art trader. One could think that you were an Olympian.”

“Shouldn't a doctor be pleased that I am taking care of myself?”

“I am. You look good, healthy. Just found it humorous.” He wipes away a few drops of water trying to go into his blue eyes. “I suppose that I will see you later. Goodbye, Axel.”

“Goodbye.”

You decide to do a few more laps around the swimming pool before getting up and drying yourself. Tomorrow morning, you will sneak into Edmund’s and Doctor Kry’s cabin to see if the painting is in there. But for now, you need to go to the purser.

You change into your suit. In the front pocket, you keep a little commonplace book to take notes. You make your way back to the pursers office. The man behind the desk gives you a service smile and asks how he can help you.

“Do you happen to have the passenger list?” you ask. “I would like to know where some people’s cabins are located.”

“What is your name?” the purser wonders.

“Axel Ainsworth.”

“Who are you wanting to find?”

“Hedwig Carter and Silas Achilleos.”

The purser disappears into his office. You wait impatiently, suddenly feeling watched. Carefully, you glance over your shoulder, but the only ones in eyesight are two men who are conversing. The purser returns. You fish out your notebook, ready to note it down.

“Miss Carter has cabin B-23 and Mister Achilleos has cabin A-11.”

You write it down. “Thank you.”

With that said, you leave to go to the staircase. You��re not sure where to go, so you decide to take a stroll down the enclosed promenade while thinking. Doctor Kry knows more, you think, but he doesn’t want to tell.

You sit down on one of the deck chairs to write down what you have gotten to know, so that you won’t forget any important information. You write down the suspects' motives to steal the painting, Silas’s weird enemy, their relation to each other — which only connects Edmund, Kry, Jerry and Hedwig — as well as the answers that you have gotten from Doctor Kry earlier today. Who has the painting? Your first instinct says that Doctor Kry doesn’t have it, because he’s not interested in that painting. Had it been the Mona Lisa, things would have been different, but this painting doesn’t interest him. That doesn’t mean that the painting couldn’t be in his room, though, because Edmund could still want to have it.

You stand up after a while and continue walking. Your eyes fixate on something in the distance. A woman dressed in pants talking to a man in a suit that seems to be hiding in the corner of the promenade. You frown.

What does Jerry have to do with Silas's second in command?

You want to move closer, but you don’t want to expose yourself. You’ll have to change the relations in your notes, because there’s clearly something more than you’ve been led to know.

What if Jerry’s lack of background has something to do with the mafia? It would explain her tattoos … that or being a sailor. But because of what you've just witnessed you can most likely scratch the latter. A shiver runs down your spine. If Jerry is dangerous, then Hedwig could be too. You stop in your tracks. Hedwig? Really? Edmund said it himself, she's a stupid, naive girl. Could she be dangerous?

You walk up to the open deck in the stern of the first class accommodations where you find a few kids playing something reminding you of curling. You sit down on the zig-zag benches placed out on the deck and watch them. They notice you looking and ask you to join them, so you do. You decide that maybe you can pleasure yourself in a harmless children's game for a few minutes, and continue the mission after.

When lunchtime rolls around, you make your way down to the dining hall. It's emptier than yesterday evening. You find Silas and his second in command sit by a table. Silas notices you and waves you over. Your feet bring you to him.

“Sorry to cut our talk short yesterday, Axel”, he says politely and gesticulates at the chair in front of him. “Sit down. Let me buy you lunch.”

And so, he does. You sit down and try your best not to glance at the second in command who’s black eyes burn through you. Your stomach twists.

You both get lamb, something you have eaten many times before. Still, it tastes better at sea.

“What did you say that you were here for again?” Silas asks suddenly as he’s cutting his meat.

His voice sounds different from yesterday. You clear your throat to make sure that your voice won’t shiver.

“I’ve been on a business trip”, you say. “And now I’m going home.”

“Yes, yes, I know that. What I mean is that you didn’t tell me why you were in France. What kind of business trip was it? What did you do? I know that you were there for art, but what do one do on an art business trip? You have to forgive me for being curious.”

“I was meeting some people from the Louvre.”

“I see. About what?”

“Art’s future, how to make sure they don’t break or smudge or get tainted by the sun. And how to protect them. You must have heard about ‘the girl with the pearl earrings’ missing?”

“Yes, of course. Isn’t it weird that someone would steal that painting? Why not a Monet painting? Or the Mona lisa?”

“I don’t know. Maybe taking one of them would be too big of a deal. Maybe the one taking the painting thought that since it isn’t one of the most cherished, they’d have an easier time taking it … that the commotion about it would die out sooner or later.”

“Perhaps.”

You’ve noticed that you haven’t heard the second in command’s voice at all, beside the talk he had with Silas yesterday. He doesn’t speak to anyone else than Silas … and Jerry. You still don’t dare look at him, scared that he will see right through you and know that you’ve seen him talk to her. You wonder what they were talking about.

“Did you have a good time yesterday?” Silas asks.

“Yes, I did”, you reply.

“Did you meet someone?”

“No, I didn’t. I chit-chatted with some people here and there, but kept mostly to myself.”

“You do good in that. You never know who you can trust on a big ship as this. You never know who wants you good or not.”

“Why are you traveling, Silas?” you ask innocently. “You said that you were impatient to get to America. Is there a reason?”

“Of course. Everything has a reason. But I don’t think I can share that with you. At least I shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

Silas turns his black eyes to you and smiles slightly. His hungry gaze makes you freeze. He had seemed so sweet yesterday, but you finally see a slice of what makes him so terrifying.

“Because someone like you shouldn’t know that”, he smiles.

“I understand”, you say and take a piece of food into your mouth, to avoid speaking further.

“You have to excuse my man here”, Silas says and nods at his second in command. “He’s the shy type. He goes wherever I go, so you have to get used to him.”

“Is he your bodyguard?” you wonder.

“You could say that. But I’m always prepared in case someone wants to attack me.”

He opens his blazer, showing you a revolver tucked into the fabric. You have your own in your suitcase. Walking around with it feels too risky, but maybe you’ll have to go get it. In case anything happens.

After lunch, you’re left with a weird feeling in your stomach. You have talked with him for an hour, about everything between heaven and earth … and yet it feels like you have been having two conversations in one — one on the surface and one real.

You walk to your cabin and press down the door handle and walk into the room. The first thing that strikes you as odd is that there’s a new smell in the air. A flowery scent. You can swear that you have felt it before. Without a second to waste, you open your bag and pick up your gun, putting it in your suit. Quickly, you turn around, realizing something. Didn’t you lock the door when you went out this morning?

That evening, you spend dinner with the two girls and stay in the smoking room with Edmund for what feels like an eternity. Edmund wants to play a deck of cards with you. He seems a bit more relaxed than yesterday and even smiles a bit.

After your games against Edmund, you decide to retreat. You walk down the long, dimly lit corridor. The narrow spaces feel almost ominous at night time, although barely any daylight reaches here at daytime either. You glance over your shoulder every tenth step, hesitating, can't help but feel watched. Your hand reaches for your gun, but before you have time to get it, someone reaches up behind you and smashes something heavy in your head. Everything turns black.

DAY 3 — SEA

“He's waking up.”

Your eyes feel like lead, and your head is even heavier. It takes a few tries to open your eyes and when you finally manage to, you want nothing more than to close them again. For a few seconds, you wonder if you're dreaming. They're all here, looking down at you. You look around and notice that they've tied your hands and feet, and left you on the floor at the end of the bed, with your back against the footrest.

You catch a glimpse of the clock on the wall. Just a bit past one in the morning. The third day has begun. You have been blacked out for three hours.

Your head is pounding, making it hard to think clearly.

Jerry bends down, grabs your chin and turns your head back and forth to inspect the damage caused on your head.

“He'll live”, she says and gives your cheek a quick, but harsh, tap.

“Well, well, Y/N”, Silas says, smirking. “You're a bit nosy aren't you?”

The mention of your name causes you to twitch and widen your eyes. In your dulled stage, you wonder if you've heard wrong, but the smirk in their faces confirm that you have, indeed, not lost your hearing.

“So, you were the agent”, Silas continues and shrugs. “I gotta admit, I was hoping that it wasn't you.”

“You were smart-”, Doctor Kry starts.

“But not smart enough”, Edmund cuts him off sharply with his arms crossed over his chest. “‘Art dealer’, yeah, sure. A detective dealing with art. That's not the same, Y/N, if you didn't know that.”

Silas picks up something from his pocket, a small commonplace book.

“‘Suspects are all interested in art, could be any of them’”, he reads out loud. “‘J involved with S? Talked with SIC.’ Jerry? Involved with me? Talked with my second in command? You seem to have it all written down.”

“I was involved with Silas”, Jerry says. “I know his second in command very well.”

“How—How did you … know?” you ask, baffled. “Were you all in on it?”

“Not from the start, no”, Doctor Kry says. “I only knew Edmund and had met Hedwig before. I didn’t even know Jerry, Silas or his second in command.”

You quickly realize that Jerry is the linking chain between them. She linked Hedwig, Edmund and Kry to Silas and his second in command.

“I had already been informed and knew that there would be someone on this ship out to get me”, Silas says. “I heard that Jerry was on board and caught up with her. She told me that she and Hedwig had met you. It was her that thought it was weird that you asked all of us about art. My men dug, and found out your real identity. My men saw you speaking with the purser, hearing you ask for our cabins and decided to tell it all to me and my second in command, who told Jerry … who told the others.”

“You have more men?” you ask and can’t hide how shocked you get.

“Of course. You don’t think I would go on board with only one man? Do you think I'm stupid, darling? You, on the other hand, probably should have had someone, at least.”

“Awfully inconsiderate of your bosses, don't you think, to send you all alone?” Jerry says.

“You were looking for this, weren’t you?” Edmund asks and pulls out something from a wooden box behind him.

You stare at it with wide eyes. The painting.

“Who—Who had it?” you can’t help but question, gulping between the first word.

“Me, of course”, Edmund says with an offended, yet proud scoff. “It will do nicely in my castle.”

“Now, little Y/N, you know”, Silas says. “Are you happy now? Your mystery is solved.”

Your head hurts too much to answer. You’re not sure if you’re happy. You have learned where the painting disappeared, but you’re tied and hurt, and in the enemies’ grasp. A mixed bag, so to say.

“I can’t watch the blood”, Hedwig suddenly says and stands up from the armchair she's sitting on.

She has been the only one that hasn’t smirked at you and seems genuinely apologetic that you're here, but you don't trust that damsel in distress look anymore. She pushes through the others to reach you with a wet handkerchief in her hands. Carefully, she kneels down in front of you and wipes the wet cloth against your forehead. She wipes away the dried blood gently.

“What are you going to do now?” you spit, coming your head to the side. “Throw me overboard?”

“Not exactly”, Silas says, smiling menacingly.

“Not yet, at least”, Jerry says, grinning.

“If I don't meet my contact in New York, people will know that something has happened to me”, you say coldly. “They'll hunt you down.”

“Oh, will they now? I didn't realize that we had stolen their golden boy.” Silas's cruel smile widens. “Well, Golden Boy, plans seem to have changed.”

You glare at him in confusion. Silas pets your head twice and you hiss at the painful touch. Whatever they hit you with, it must have caused a gigantic bruise.

“Seems like we have to keep you for a while”, he says. “But you will have to stay in here, I’m afraid. You probably understand that we cannot let someone like you wander around the ship.”

You glare at him.

“Do you really think ropes will stop me?” you ask. “I'll be out of here in no time.”

“I would very much like for you to see what we do to you if you decide to break free.” He gives you a testing look before turning to his new companions. “Oh, and one more thing …” He picks up a familiar revolver, spinning it around his hand. “... thank you for the free gun.”

You want to curse at him, but keep quiet for your own sake.

“It's late, the ladies should head to bed”, he says, gesturing for Hedwig and Jerry to leave. “We need to keep someone here to make sure that our little Golden Boy won't free himself and run around, causing trouble.”

“I can take the first shift”, Doctor Kry says and golds up a syringe filled with a translucent liquid.

“Do not harm him, you hear me?” Silas tells him warningly. “I want him alive, coherent and unharmed.”

“Where am I supposed to sleep?” Edmund questions angrily. “In this cabin? Now that I'll have people staring at me?”

“You and Doctor Kry will take Y/N’s cabin”, Silas says.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Stop being so spoiled, your majesty.”

“Won't that be suspicious?” Silas’s second in command questions. “If they see the young king exit and enter someone else's cabin instead of his own?”

“No one knows his cabin”, Silas says as if things were obvious. “Besides, we're in New York tomorrow anyways. It won't be a problem.” He turns to the others. “Scatter.”

The five of them walk out, leaving you and Doctor Kry alone. The doctor sits down in one of the two armchairs in front of you with a long, tired sigh. In his hand, he twirls the syringe.

“What is that?” you mutter.

“Something that will make you go to sleep if you're trying to escape”, Doctor Kry says simply, as if he was talking about watering flowers.

“Why did you hit me in the head if you had that instead?” you ask bitterly.

“Because it wasn't me, it was the second in command and Jerry.”

“Did you lie down in the swimming pool? About not knowing where Jerry came from?”

“No, Y/N, why would I? I told you that I didn't know anything. I didn't get to know until this afternoon.”

“And yet you're quick to jump the wagon to get me killed. I thought doctors were supposed to be nice.”

“I’ve never said that I was nice.”

“What do you gain from this? Why do you want to engage in collusion with people like this? What kind of doctor even are you?”

“Still, with all these questions … look, Y/N, it’s late. You’d do good in trying to get some sleep.”

“On the floor? With my head pounding in pain? With my hands and feet tied?”

“Suit yourself.”

There’s a deadly silence after that. You listen to the sounds the Normandie creates, and somehow wishes that she could save you, but you’re trapped within her, there’s nothing to be done. You rest your head back onto the edge of the footrest and sigh heavily. Doctor Kry looks at his syringe as if it is the most interesting thing he has ever witnessed.

“I'm thirsty”, you say after a while.

Doctor Kry stands up, walks over to the dressing table where a crystal carafe is waiting and pours you a glass. He returns to you and holds the glass to your lips, making you drink. You gulp it down and breathe heavily. Doctor Kry returns to his armchair.

You don't know how long you've been sitting on the floor before you start to fall asleep. You thought that you wouldn't, not in this position (figuratively and literally) but you somehow fall asleep.

“Wakey wakey, Golden Boy.”

You feel someone poke your head to the side multiple times and open your eyes to see Jerry hold a stick in her hand which she's using to poke your head.

“It's morning”, she says.

You groan groggily. She imitates you and chuckles.

“Did you have a pleasant night?” she teases.

You decide not to answer, not to humor her further. Your eyes draft onto a silver tray on the table.

“Yes, that's your breakfast”, Jerry says and lifts the tray, putting it on the floor in front of you before sitting down.

She picks up a piece of toast and holds it to your mouth. You take a bite, feeling more humiliated than ever. If only you knew that this was where you'd end up when you stepped on board in France.

“We will be in New York tomorrow”, Jerry says, holding the toast to your lips. “And we'll sneak both you and the painting past your contact.”

“It's just a painting”, you say cluelessly. “Why do you all want it so much?”

“I’m not particularly interested in the painting, but I know that Edmund and Hedwig are.”

“Why?”

“Art nerds.”

“Is it even selling for much?”

“It is — if you give it to the right consumer.”

“And you? What do you gain from this?”

“The thing isn’t about what I gain, it is what I lose … in case I let you roam freely. I don’t trust what you will do with the painting or it’s contents. Plus, you know who I am. If you wouldn’t have stuck your nosy head in everything, you wouldn’t have any problem with me.”

You suddenly realize something.

“Jerry, I need to go to the bathroom”, you say. “I haven’t been to the bathroom since before you knocked me in the head.”

She sighs heavily. “Alright, come here.”

Before pulling you up on your feet, she unties them. You stumble, almost falling on Jerry.

“Watch it, big boy”, she warns you. “If you knock me down I’m kicking you between your legs until you can’t have children.”

“If you hadn’t tied my feet, I would actually have blood in them. I can’t feel them.”

She unties your hands bitterly. You make your way into the bathroom and catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Hedwig had wiped away some of the blood, but there were still traces of it in your scalp. You sigh heavily. What should you do? Finally, your hands and feet are free, but you aren’t yet. And — after a quick look around — there’s no way out. The only way out is through the door which Jerry is guarding.

You could perhaps get out by defeating Jerry, but you have something against fighting women. But, then again, she had knocked you with — what you guess was — a glass bottle. You look around for something that can help you and lay your eyes on a metal bar over the bathtub, used to pull one up. Without a second thought and will all your might, you rip it off. You give it a few squeezes, feeling if it could be strong enough to be used as a weapon and trying to find a comfortable, yet strong, grip.

You open the door quickly and swing the metal bar towards Jerry. She tries to grab it out of your hands but you push her off and knock her to the ground with the bar. You're not sure how hard you are hitting her, but it's enough force to keep her down. Quickly, you make your way past her and storm out of the cabin, almost crashing into the opposite wall in the corridor. You look around quickly, trying to think of where to go. After what Silas said, that he has more men than just his second in command lurking around, you're not sure who you can be seen by. You need to find an officer. You need to get higher.

Shit, the painting!

Your heart is beating loudly in your chest as you scurry back into the cabin. Jerry is lying on the floor, unconscious, and you almost feel bad for knocking her, but you know that it had to be done. It was her or you. Quickly, you open the wooden box and fish out the painting, tucking it under your arm. You can't hide it in your cabin, not when they know about it. You have to dispose of it somewhere safe.

Every step you take is careful, planned and mortified. You clutch the painting tightly, as if it is life itself.

Moving through the long corridor, you're certain that someone will jump out behind a corner and knock you out, like yesterday. Adrenaline is pumping through your veins, almost making you nauseous. You continue through the corridor, over to the hall with the staircases. Your suit has dried blood on it, you look (and feel) manic, will anyone take you seriously?

You freeze as you see a pair of eyes on you. Kry. His blue eyes seem to darken as he notices you, and the painting.

Quickly, you throw yourself into the elevator, and press a random button, wanting the doors to close before Doctor Kry reaches you. And they do, but when you look at the display beside you, you're going the opposite to where you need to go. New plan, you think, I have to sneak into tourist class — or third class, whatever gets you furthest away.

While standing in the elevator, you take a look at the painting to make sure that it hasn’t been damaged in this mess. You turn it around to inspect the canvas and notice something stuck in the corner of the wooden brackets. Carefully, you reach your fingers in and pull out a folded paper. Tucking the painting between your arm and your waist, you unfold the paper to find a list of names and locations … some of which you recognize. They’re all wanted criminals and you guess that the ones you don’t recognize are criminals as well. And the locations …

Your body goes cold and stiff. For a few moments, it feels like the entire world has stopped spinning. This is suddenly more serious than you could ever expect. Quickly, you put the paper in the pocket of your black pants.

You make your way through corridors you haven’t been in before, through doors you’re sure you’re not allowed through. You can’t help but look around at the new environment. Despite being one of Normandie’s lower classes, the attention to detail had been given to every centimeter of the ship.

Focus!

You’re not sure where you’re going, but you need to find someone that can help you. You consider giving it to a random passenger and ask them to give them to an officer, but in your entire training, you have been told not to pull innocent civilians into your job. They could get seriously hurt and it would be completely your own fault.

You make your way through tourist class, making sure not to be seen by anyone. If Silas have more people than you thought, why wouldn’t they be in multiple classes? You’re not even sure why the painting have caused this big of a commotion, but there’s no way you can give up the painting now — not after everything you’ve gone through. Your head is still pounding from the glass bottle and your heart beating out of your chest by the sight of Doctor Kry. He knows that you’re roaming freely, and soon, they all will know … and they will look for you. Silas’s words still ring in your ear; “I would very much like for you to see what we do to you if you decide to break free” — well you surely don’t. But where can one run where the space is limited? It’s not like you can grab a lifeboat and sail your way to safety. The sea can be just as dangerous as the people you’re dealing with.

You look around for someone in black uniform, desperately wanting to find someone to help you before you get a bullet through your head. Finally, you find a steward carrying a metal tray. Like lightning had struck through you, you barge forward and grab his arm.

“Sir, you have to help me!” you hiss and pull him into an empty corridor.

“What are you doing-?” he gasps.

“Please listen and listen quickly”, you whisper in pure panic. The words fall out of your mouth incoherently, but you somehow manage to create the sentences you need for the steward to listen to you. “I have to get to the Captain! Like … now! It’s really, really urgent! Please, just trust me!”

You look around with wide eyes, heart now pounding in your throat. The steward nods in confusion and signals for you to come with him. You’re not sure why he decides to trust you, but you’re ever so grateful for it. He takes you through hidden passages used for staff so that none of the paying passengers will have to see them, up a couple of steep stairs and through some more doors. You hug the painting tightly against your roaring chest. Every corner makes your heart stop, terrified that someone will stand on the other side and knock you out the second you turn.

The steward points at a door with a golden sign on it — ‘Officers’ quarters’. You pound on the door until you’re sure your knuckles bleed. A stern looking man in neat uniform opens, giving you a dark look.

“Who are you?” he questions. “What do you want?”

“I’m Y/N L/N, I’m an agent of the crown and this is the missing painting that has been all over the news … you have to keep it secure until we reach New York.”

The officer looks confused as he takes the painting in his hands and lets you into the quarters.

“You’re bloody, what happened to you, sir?”

“There’s six passengers — Mr Achilleos and his man, His Majesty Edmund of Vesanus, Doctor Karl Kry, Miss Hedwig Carter and Miss Jerry Kim. They knocked me out and kept me in a cabin the entire night. They’re working together. They want this painting …”

… and probably my life by now.

“ … keep it safe”, you beg the officer and feel your voice quiver. “Please. If i can’t meet you at the harbor when we dock tomorrow, please give it to my contact — I will write down his name — and tell him that he can find further information on board the ship.”

“I will tell the captain about the passengers, they will be taken care of and kept in arrest until we reach land where the police will deal with them”, the officer says.

“Thank you. A lot. Really.”

“You can stay here if you want.”

You feel for the note in your pocket and shake your head. “I have to do something first.”

The officer nodded. On shaky legs, you open the door and walk out into the corridor again. The steward is long gone and you’re alone in an unfamiliar corridor. You suddenly feel exhausted and decide to stay close to the door for a few moments to catch your breath, as if the officers’ quarter was a safe place.

The note has to be hidden somewhere across the ship so that your contact can find it in case you don’t make it out alive. The note is more important than the painting and can, under no circumstances, go in the wrong hands. These names have to reach your contact. The group will look for the painting in belief that the note is still there, so the note has to be hidden separately so that they won’t find it.

You make your way through the corridors slowly, making sure not to be caught with the list of names on you. In a weird, panic filled daze, you make your way through corridors, through lounges and dining halls where you hide the note. Underneath a chair, stuck to the corner. You deice to find your way back to the officers’ quarters and somehow find yourself out on deck. The wind is grabbing at you, pulling you left and right. You have a hard time keeping yourself on your feet. No one else is outside and you suspect it has to do with the fact that it’s early in the morning and the dark gray sky above you threat of rain.

“Y/N, don’t move.”

You turn to see the second in command with a gun in his hand.

“If you shoot me you'll ruin your life”, you say to him as confidentially as you can muster, but you can't help but worry if he's going to pull the trigger.

“Do you think I care?” the second in command questions with a scoff. “I serve my boss until my last breath, I couldn't care less about other trivial matters. Where's the painting?”

“You don't care for the painting. Ask me instead where the note is.”

His eyebrow twitches.

“You know about the note, huh?” he says, eyes narrowing. “Seems like I'll have to get that out of you.”

“Why don't you have your boss do it? Or is he in arrest?”

“Don't worry about him, he always comes out on top. Come with me now or I will shoot you-”

“Shoot me then. The note is hidden and the painting is with trusted people.”

“Idiot. Do you think I was born yesterday? If I shoot you, I can't get the note. You may be stupid, but i dont think youre careless enough To sacrifice yourself for such a trivial thing. Get over here. Now.”

You're unarmed and alone, but if there's one thing you've been taught, it is to not give up without a fight. Your eyes catch onto an officer patrolling the upper deck and whistle. As the second in command takes his eyes off of you, you dive head first into the swimming pool. From his perspective, you don't think — wish — that he sees the man above him. The water wraps around you like a cold blanket and for a few seconds you can't even feel the wetness, only biting cold that almost makes you gasp under the surface. Somewhere, you think that you can hear a gunshot and see something whooshing past you in the water. And then another, and another. And then nothing.

You don't return to the surface until you're sure that the bullet rain has stopped. Your burning lungs gasp for air and you grip the ladder to your left. The second in command has been wrestled down on the deck by the same officer you saw. A smile tugs at your lips as the second in command glares at you from the floor, smashed against the planks.

“Sir, are you alright?” the officer asks, panting.

“I'm okay”, you reply, panting heavier.

An ice cold wind cuts right through you.

“Go inside”, the officer tells you.

“Y/N!” the second in command shouts as you've started to walk. “Don't forget that there are more. You barely know half of the people we have on board. Don't think for a second that you are safe!”

You pretend not to hear him and make your way inside for warmth. Unsure of where to go because of the second in command’s words, you return to the officers’ quarters.

That evening, you make your way down to the arrest. There are still two questions you haven’t gotten an answer to. You've gotten your gun back from a steward and have tucked it in your blazer. Nausea is eating you up from the inside as you walk into the room, watching the cell and its habitants.

“Look who it is”, you hear Jerry snicker. “Change your mind, Golden Boy? Do you want us out?”

You don't even bother to answer.

“The painting is in a safe place, and so are the note”, you say. “I suppose that Jerry, Silas and your second in command wanted the note and not the painting … and Edmund and Hedwig wanted the painting … but what did the Doctor want?”

“Me?” Kry asks coldly and walks over to the bars with his arms crossed. “What I wanted?”

“Yes”, you reply.

“You, of course. Imagine, my own little lab rat that I could do whatever I wanted with … no one would even bat an eye if both you and the painting disappeared.”

“You won't get any of it.” You let your eyes wander over the six people. “Not the painting, not the note, and absolutely not me. Jail is what you will get.”

You can hear Hedwig start to sob in the corner of the cell. She has sunken down along the wall with her head hanging between her knees, body shaking with sobs. Edmund sighs and walks over to her side, grabbing her shoulders and trying to pull her up on her feet.

“Don't cry”, he says quietly. “We won't go to jail, I will make sure of that. I won't allow it.”

“Did you just come down here to revel in our misery?” Silas asks you.

You're not sure why you came down here. Did you want to make sure to yourself that they were behind bars? Or make you feel more powerful? Or even just get to see them?

“You do know that we will have our revenge, don’t you?” Edmund says and looks at you. “This is not the end.”

“I hope that you like being a dog, because that's what you're going to be, leash and all”, Silas scoffs.

“Tattooed”, Jerry adds on with a tilted smile. “Marked. Would Golden boy like that?”

You ignore her, and walk over to the cells bars, eyes glued onto Hedwig.

“What were you doing in my cabin?” you ask.

She freezes, looking cluelessly at you through her teary eyes.

“What?” she asks in shock.

“Your perfume was all over my cabin”, you say coldly. “Why were you in my cabin?”

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N!” she cries and runs over to the bars, reaching out for you.

You back away.

“I’m sorry, I-I … I looked through your things. I couldn’t help it, I just … I really, really wanted to hold you. I didn’t take anything, I promise! Please believe me, Y/N, I just wanted to- … it doesn’t matter. Forgive me.”

You don’t answer. Maybe Hedwig isn’t as sweet and innocent as you thought.

DAY 4 — End of voyage

After your hell night last night you couldn't be more grateful for the somewhat pleasant night you had. Every single sound and movement woke you up, preparing you to see one of the six criminals or their acquaintances. And since a ship is in constant movement and makes sounds only God knows about, you barely slept for an hour straight. But at least you were in a warm bed.

You can't eat anything during breakfast. You stare at the sandwich and steaming coffee in front of you with a twisted stomach. The room is filled with passengers, like normal, but the bright room can’t be more dark and sinister. It is as if someone has drained it of color. Any of the smiling guests can be one that want to put a bullet through your skull, and is waiting for you to rise from your chair and follow you outside.

When a waiter comes over to your table, the coffee has stopped steaming.

“Good morning, sir”, he says politely and places a silver tray with a silver cloche on your table.

“What is this?” you ask in confusion.

“A gentleman told me to give this to you. He has paid for it and everything.”

With that said, he smiles and walks away to continue his job. You glance down at the dome looking metal and feel your heart sink. Although you don’t want to, your heart reaches out to pull it away and reveal whatever is lying on the silver tray underneath. You’re not sure what you are expecting but a small, folded paper is certainly not it. As if on autopilot, you open the paper to see only a line.

“We will be waiting for you when we dock, you won’t get past us. We are watching you.”

You were right. A knot appears in your throat. Your legs go numb. You will be killed.

The air is hard to breathe in and you have to get out before you suffocate. You get out on the deck with the lifeboats hanging above your head and lean against the railing. In a few hours, Normandie would dock and you would be caught. You’re not sure that the steward who had helped you before would be able to save you, and you don’t want to put him in more danger … but you can’t step off the ship in New York’s harbor. The lifeboat above your head gives you an idea. A stupid, right out ridiculous idea …

You look around you before your shaking hands release the lifeboat from its holds. You have been taught the most outrageous things to rescue yourself — including lowering an ocean liner’s lifeboat. The davits slowly bring the lifeboat downwards and you climb in, lying down to avoid being seen. Your body trembles with fear, unsure of what this will bring you … or where it will bring you.

There's nothing on the ship that you should bring with you. There's no guarantee that the lifeboat will reach the harbor safely, but its a try. The painting will be more secure with the steward.

You feel a ‘thump’ from when the lifeboat hits the waves underneath you. You see how Normandie towers above you, the black steel never seeming to end. A pair of heads stick out from the side and something hits the water beside you. Quickly, you cover your body with your arms and legs, curling up until all vital organs are covered. Hitting you with bullets on this distance are harder than one can think, but not impossible. The second you’re sure that they can’t reach you, you get up and start to paddle. If the men tell a steward about the missing lifeboat, they’ll steer their ship over here to get you.

Your arms quickly grow sore. From now on, you’re entirely alone. There’s no one to save you in case anything happens and you will have to find your way to land by yourself. But it's better than being on board the ship.

The sea around you feels abnormally calm. There’s no distinctive sounds apart from the waves hitting the side of the lifeboat.

You sit for a moment, taking the time to think. This case has been different from all the others you have done. More personal than you could ever have anticipated. You’re not sure why, but something with this case told you that things wouldn’t be over if they got their way. It was more than just materia, they want you too … to use as they please. Doctor Kry was right. Who would bat an eye if you disappeared along with the painting? They wouldn’t call it a kidnapping, it would be a disappearance that could be explained by the painting. And now they have none of it. Not the painting, not the list of criminals and not you. Pretty successful, you think. Maybe you succeeded this mission after all?

You hiss as you touch your sensitive head. You’ll have to find a doctor in New York.

Hours go by. You row, you rest, row, rest, row, rest. Throw up. Damn if you have gotten a concussion, you think, but it’s probably just the sea air making you nauseous.

How things had turned out. You thought that you would have had to deal with one or two criminals … not six. Ad how Silas had seen right through you …

It’s over now. It will be over soon. Is it over?

You continue to row.

in the distance, you see a fishing ship pulling up their net and you wave with your arms in hope for them to see you, which they inevitably do. Your exhausted, cold body is picked up and wrapped in an old blanket.

“What were you doing out in a lifeboat like that?” one of the old sailors asks. “Which ship has sunk?”

“It’s the Normandie!” another one says as he reads the name on the wooden planks. “Has the Normandie sunk?!”

You tell them that it hasn’t suck — in fact, it’s steaming on better ad stronger than ever — but that an accident had happened, which resulted in you all alone in a lifeboat in the middle of the ocean.

They give you a yellow rain coat that you use to hide in and join the sailors to New York’s harbor that evening. In the distance, you see the different ocean liner piers. Cunard-White Star Line, United States Lines, HAPAG, Italian Lines, Swedish-American Lines … and finally, Compagnie Générale Transatlantique. Normandie was towering above all the other liners and you stood there on the pier, looking at it. Four days ago, you had been standing in the harbor at Le Havre and been excited to step on board. But now, that you are looking at it from afar, in the dim lights, there’s something unsettling about the her. It looks like she’s apologizing to you for everything that she allowed to happen between her walls. You almost start to cry.

You turn around and walk without giving the ship one more glance, hoping that it will be the last time you get to see the Normandie.

You meet up with your contact in a small warehouse that following morning and tell him what you have hidden on the ship. He promises to retrieve it. He already has the painting and has secured it, had gotten it from the very steward you had left it with.

“I have something else too”, he says and gives you an apologetic look.

“What?” you ask and watch him closely as he takes out a paper from his pocket.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You open the paper and feel your blood go icy cold. The handwriting is unfamiliar, but the nickname you see written in black …

“Thought you could lock us in? Think twice, Golden boy, we’re already out. We’ll find you, be so sure of that. Don’t think that we will let you slip away. You will look good in a leash.

S.A”

You fold the paper just as quick and breathe out a shaky breath.

“Don’t worry, Y/N, you will be protected”, your contact promises. “It will not be any problem, I assure you.”

With the six people’s contacts and power, you doubt that your protection will do much, but you nod. The painting is safe and the note is safe. They may have escaped jail and are looking for you, but you succeeded with your mission. And that is all that matters.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere oc x you #yandere mafia #yandere oc x reader #yandere fics #yandere stories #yandere doctor #yandere king #yandere female #female yandere #yandere rich girl #yandere oneshot #yandere ocs #yandere ocs x reader #male reader

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yanderenightmare · 9 months ago

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TW: yandere, classism, degradation, possessiveness, obsessiveness, blackmail

gn reader - feminine clothing (jewelry: earrings, necklace)

Thinking about your rich boyfriend…

Rich boyfriend – who buys you clothes and jewelry every time you have a date, even when you tell him you feel bad receiving them all – that you have nowhere to wear such nice things – that a simple date is really more than enough.

Rich boyfriend – who ignores you with a smile and shake of his head, asking you how you expect him to stop when you’re just the absolute cutest? Looking at him with those moon-big eyes, humble crinkle between your brows, and your lip tucked nervously between your teeth to keep from gawking.

Rich boyfriend – who orders for you at all the restaurants he takes you to because he knows you’ve never been anywhere like it. Looking so adorably lost in your seat, flushed when staring at the menu written in a language you can’t read – knowing even if you could, you still wouldn't know what any of it meant. You’re so, so, so precious – eyes peeled like you’re a pet who’s just been allowed at the table for the first time.

Rich boyfriend – who plays four instruments, speaks five languages, went to an Ivy League institution, and will inherit his entire family’s business being the spoiled only child that he is.

Rich boyfriend – who just loves the messy household you grew up in – loves how you and your siblings interact with each other, looking like a bundle of pups all crammed in the same cage at a pet store – how your childhood bedroom is the size of his closet – filled with all sorts of trinkets you’ve kept growing up – stuff that would usually wind up in the trash at his house – polaroids of you as a teenager, past boyfriends in kissing booths, prom pictures, concert tickets, and old rusty friendship lockets.

It’s all so… He scoffs. The word for it escapes him.

Suppose he doesn’t quite recognize the pricelessness of sentimental value as opposed to something actually sellable – but he finds it cute that you do.

Though, it bothers him to some degree as well… that you would value an old pair of earrings gifted you by your grandmother instead of the actual antique diamond pair he’d procured for you. After all, one was a real historic piece worth a fortune a Russian duchess had snuck into England during the war, and the other was old junk made by a noname jeweler.

Rich boyfriend – who chokes on his spit when you sit him down and tell him you want to break up – who thinks he’s misheard – that you’re joking, playing some uncultured game he’s never been exposed to, some ill-taste past-time only poor people do to escape their bitter reality.

But you’re not joking…

You’re breaking up with him…You.. You… broke trash of worker-class scum… you’re breaking up with him?

You give him back all his gifts in a cardboard box – telling him you’re grateful but that you truly don’t have any use for such things – that you think your worlds are too different to coincide.

Of course, you refrain from telling him you think he’s a classist snob. You have a feeling it would have gone completely over his head if you’d tried anyway, so there really was no point to it.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who’s never been told no in his entire life…

Rich ex-boyfriend – who buys your street and plans on scrapping it to make brand new mansions in a project he dubs “cleaning up the slums” – evicting and putting you and your entire family out of the home you’d spent your entire life growing up in.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who thinks you’re crawling back to him when you schedule an appointment at his office – who thinks you’re going to come in with bleary wet eyes and grovel like the lowly peasant you are – let him save you from poverty and homelessness, make you his charity case – his pretty diamond in the rough who’s never quite able to wash all the coal off.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who trashes that same office when you leave after having given him the address to the pawnshop you sold the one pearl necklace you’d kept as a token of your relationship – telling him he should feel free to go down there and get it back – that you’re using the money to buy a better house and you just wanted to come and thank him for that.

Of course, you wanted to slap him too – spit on his tie or maybe just take a piss on his desk – but you left it at that.

Rich ex-boyfriend – whose next move is to buy your family business, who hires a private eye to dig up dirt on you and all your family, burying you in fines from age-old petty crimes, gets you kicked from your scholarship.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who goes to that pawnshop and reports the pearl necklace as a stolen item and has the police arrest you. Spinning a story about how he thought you were this humble sweet thing, only for you to rob him behind his back.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who comes to visit you in the custody suite where you sit cooped up with all the other wretched mutts on the cold concrete floors – scolding you for making him come down to a dirty police precinct, for having him breathe the same air as all the lowlives held up there.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who tells you he’ll make it all go away.

He’ll drop the charges, let your family keep their house – or buy them an even better one, whichever you prefer – he’ll even promote your family business and pay for all your siblings' education – he’ll give you everything.

Anything you want, it’s yours.

But he owns you.

BNHA – Bakugou, Shoto, Dabi, Hawks, Overhaul

JJK – Sukuna, Gojo, Naoya

HQ – Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins

BLLK – Reo, Rin

HxH – Illumi

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chaoticforever · 4 months ago

Text

Thunderous Pursuits | Yandere Thor x Male! Reader

Summary: Let this be a lesson to Thor’s old friend. Love is a fragile thing, easily broken by jealous gods. Especially Thor.

A/n: Smut is present.

Another day of saving the world.

Thor plopped himself down in the booth as his teammates began to settle down beside him. The restaurant the Avengers went to for the evening was a lavish and elegant establishment in New York, with high ceilings, gold chandeliers, and soft, ambient lighting. The walls were painted a deep shade of red, and the booth was comfortable and spacious, with a single red rose adorning the center of the table.

Earlier that afternoon, the Avengers had saved Earth again from yet another alien invasion. To celebrate this victory, Tony decided to take his teammates to a five-star restaurant in the city since some of them hadn't been to one before. He had arranged a private booth in a secluded corner of the restaurant for them to eat.

The God of Thunder opened the menu and gazed through the different choices. Thor didn’t eat earthly food as much, but he was going to enjoy them this evening.

Soon, a waiter approached their booth.

"Hello, my name is Y/n, and I will be your server tonight," a polite voice addressed. "Can I get y'all started on some drinks?"

Thor paused when he heard the waiter introduce himself. That voice... he would know that anywhere. Slowly, he lifted his eyes from the menu, and his eyes locked with the person standing near the table.

And, sure enough, it was him.

Y/n L/n.

"Y/n!" Thor's lips curled into a big smile.

The waiter looked up from the pad in his hands when he heard his name called. A fond grin appeared on his face when he saw the individual who called out to him.

"Hi, Thor!" Y/n walked around the table and the God stood up to give him a brief hug before stepping back. "It's so great to see you again. It's been too long, and wow, you cut your hair! It looks amazing."

"Thank you, old friend," Thor boomed, as he took his seat again, his piercing blue eyes never leaving his old friend's form. "It has been so long. I never expected to find you here, a restaurant, of all places."

The other Avengers quietly observed the exchange. They were intrigued by Thor's familiarity with someone the team didn't recognize. After all, they knew of Thor's brief friendships with Darcy and his ex-girlfriend, Jane, but this one was a new face. As they watched the guys interact, it became clear that Thor and his friend had a history that went back a long way.

Steve spoke, "So, Y/n, how do you know Thor? It looks like you two go way back."

The waiter nodded. "We do go way back. Way back. I was once an Asgardian god."

The five Avengers exchanged surprised glances. Clearly, they had not expected such a revelation. But Thor, on the other hand, frowned at Y/n's choice of words.

"Y/n, what do you mean, you 'were once' an Asgardian God?" His tone was sharp with curiosity, and his eyes searched for answers in Y/n's e/c eyes. Why did Y/n voice that? Was he not a God anymore?

The former Asgardian cleared his throat, a subtle signal that the topic wasn't one he wished to delve into at this moment. "That is a story for another day. But for now, what can I get you heroes to drink?"

Tony was the first one to speak up and he ordered a martini, shaken, not stirred. Steve opted for a Coca-Cola, while Clint chose a cocktail. Natasha requested a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon, and Bruce kept it simple, ordering a glass of water. However, Thor remained silent, his gaze fixed on Y/n. His mind was elsewhere, lost in thoughts known only to the man.

"Uh, Point Break, it’s your turn," Tony said.

Thor blinked twice, momentarily startled before clearing his throat and tearing his gaze away from Y/n. "Aye, my apologies. I will have... uh, what is that earthly drink you mortals enjoy so much?" He looked to Tony for guidance, who rolled his eyes.

"You mean beer? The billionaire supplied.

Thor nodded, turning his gaze back to Y/n. "Yes, I will have a human beer, please."

Y/n nodded and jotted down the orders with swift movements of his pencil. He turned to leave but paused, and asked if they were ready to order food or if they needed more time with the menu. As it turned out, everyone was ready to order.

The male server took their food orders, starting with Tony again, who ordered a steak with sides of mac and cheese and broccoli cheese casserole. Steve opted for a classic bacon cheeseburger and fries, while Clint chose a plate of pasta with garlic bread. Natasha ordered sushi with a side of chicken, and Bruce opted for a massive plate of ribs and mashed potatoes. Thor mirrored Bruce’s choice.

After writing down their food orders, Y/n left, heading to the kitchen and leaving the heroes to their conversation. Thor's eyes followed Y/n's retreating figure, his mind racing with numerous questions.

As the Avengers talked, Thor found it hard to focus. His mind kept wandering back to Y/n, his old friend who was now a waiter. He couldn't shake his curiosity about what happened to Y/n since they last saw each other and the implication that the man had given up his godhood.

"Thor," Natasha's voice cut through the haze of his thoughts. "It seems like you and Y/n have quite the history. Care to fill us in?" Her tone was inviting, leaving the decision to share entirely up to Thor.

"I've known Y/n since the dawn of time. He came to Asgard as a young adult and we were very close. We fought in battles and went on countless journeys. Though it seems I missed this part of his journey."

Clint, who was sitting across from Thor, arched a brow and gave him a knowing look. "Dude," Clint wiggled his eyebrows. "you have a crush on him, don't you?" It seems that nothing escaped Clint's gaze.

Natasha playfully nudged Clint, as Bruce shook his head. He muttered something about Clint being an idiot though a small chuckle did manage to escape his throat.

A slight pink hue tinted Thor's cheeks. "I certainly do not have a crush on him."

And that was true — Thor did not have a crush on Y/n. On the contrary, what he felt for his old friend ran deeper than a fleeting crush, even after all these years.

A little while later, Y/n returned with two more servers that had trays filled with food and drinks. They carefully placed everything on the table, ensuring that everyone received their ordered meals. "Guys, enjoy your meal, and feel free to flag me down if you need anything else," Y/n then left the Avengers to their meal.

They ate, and the conversation shifted to their recent battle and the close calls they had faced. Thor, once again, found his attention divided between the lively discussion and his silent observations of Y/n as the waiter efficiently moved between tables, tending to other people.

He needed to speak with him.

So, when the dinner concluded and Tony paid the bill, leaving a generous tip for Y/n's exceptional service, the group began to make their way out toward the waiting limo. However, Thor lingered behind, his eyes seeking out Y/n, who was clearing a table. Thor made his way over to him.

"Y/n," Thor’s voice was low and serious, causing Y/n to pause in his clearing and looked up at Thor, "a word if you please."

Y/n straightened up and offered a smile. "Of course, Thor. What can I do for you?"

"I must know, old friend, everything that has happened in your life up until now."

Y/n's smile remained unwavering. "And I'll tell you everything you want to know tomorrow. Meet me in Central Park at twelve o'clock. You and I will catch up."

The thunderous God nodded, feeling satisfied with that arrangement as he placed a hand on Y/n's shoulder. "Until tomorrow, my friend. I look forward to it."

As Y/n walked away with dishes in his hands, Thor's eyes trailed after him. Why was his friend working as a server in a human restaurant? What had happened to him in Asgard? And most importantly, why'd he say he 'was once' an Asgardian God? Thor had his suspicions about the last question, but he still needed to get the missing piece of the puzzle from Y/n.

The only plausible explanation for Y/n's situation was that Y/n must have been stripped of his powers and made mortal, much like Odin had done to him before.

But the question remained: why? There were only two ways for a god to lose their powers: either through transferring their consciousness into another mortal body or by having their powers forcibly taken away. Y/n still inhabited the same body for centuries, automatically ruling out the first option. This left Thor with the conclusion that someone must have taken his powers, and he hoped that his dad hadn't been involved in such an act.

Suddenly, the restaurant door opened, and Bruce's voice rang out. "Thor, come on! Tony said you have thirty seconds to get out here or he's telling the limo driver to pull off without you. Let's get moving."

With a playful roll of his eyes at Tony's impatience, Thor followed Bruce out of the restaurant and into the waiting limo.

The limo glided through the city streets on the way back to the Compound, and Thor's thoughts inevitably drifted to Y/n. He recalled the curve of his lips when he smiled, the way the black waiter's attire highlighted his handsome features, and Clint's accusation about having a crush.

Indeed, as Thor had voiced earlier, it was more than a crush. The love he felt for Y/n ran deeper than mere infatuation, and it had only bloomed stronger over time.

One thing's for sure: over the years, Y/n had been the object of Thor's late-night fantasies more times than he cared to admit, even during his semi-relationship with Jane. Y/n was the main reason he couldn't fully commit to her. The thought of having Y/n beneath him, moaning his name while begging for release, was a desire Thor had harbored for some time.

In Thor's mind, he felt that this was an opportunity given to him. It was clear to Thor that their paths had crossed again for a reason — because they were meant to be together. Why else would they have reconnected now — when Y/n seemingly needed him? It was a sign from the gods. So, he would first speak to Y/n, and then the two could focus on their relationship.

Thor couldn’t wait until tomorrow.

XXXXX XXXXX

The wait until the next day felt like an eternity for the God of Thunder. He was so ready to see Y/n once more and learn about everything that had transpired in his life recently. He knew that Y/n would be there on time; it was in their nature to honor commitments, no matter how tiny.

Finally, the clock struck twelve, and Thor found himself standing in Central Park. The sun shone brightly, its rays dancing through the leaves of the trees, casting dappled shade on the grass, and a nice breeze stirred in the air. As he ventured further into the park, his eyes spotted a familiar figure sitting at a bench beneath the sprawling branches of a big oak tree.

There, casually leaning back against the bench with one leg casually slung over the other, was Y/n. He looked utterly at ease, dressed in a simple white tee and faded jeans. The outfit accentuated his nice, broad shoulders, and Thor's eyes wandered appreciatively over Y/n’s body.

He looked good.

Real good.

Thor's footsteps quickened, his eagerness to reunite properly with his old friend unmistakable. He knows that he just saw him yesterday, but the short amount of time wasn't enough to satisfy his longing for his company. Y/n noticed Thor approaching and gave him a slight smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"Hey, Y/n," Thor greeted, his voice warm and deep. He extended his hand, and Y/n took it, letting Thor pull him into a hug.

"It's good to see you, T-Man," Y/n replied, using the old nickname he had for Thor. Hearing it now made Thor's heart flutter, and he loved the way it rolled off his lips.

Settling onto the bench, Thor's curiosity got the better of him. He knew that Y/n held the answers to the many questions swirling in his mind. So, without further ado, he decided to dive straight into the heart of the matter, forgoing the human tendency to beat around the bush now.

"My dear comrade," Thor began, his eyes locked intensely on Y/n. "You have much to tell me, and I am eager to hear it. How is it that Y/n, son of Hera and Zeus, God of Time, finds himself here on Midgard, serving mortals as a waiter? The last I heard, you were a protector of this realm."

The former God clasped his hands in his lap but he maintained eye contact with Thor. It was always customary to look someone in the eyes when speaking.

"I was the protector of this realm," he confirmed, "But your father and I had our fair share of disagreements. He deemed me reckless and unworthy, and in a fit of anger, he stripped me of my powers and banished me here to Midgard. I've been living as a mortal for almost two years."

A frown marred Thor's handsome features as he listened to Y/n's words, his eyebrows knitting together in anger. Stripped of his powers and exiled here — it was a brutal punishment, one that stirred a protective instinct within the God of Thunder. He knew firsthand the pain of being stripped of one's powers. The idea of Y/n, the mighty God of Time, being reduced to working at a job, was an insult to everything they stood for.

"That old fool!" Thor growled, feeling his anger rising. "To treat you, another God who has served Asgard for thousands of years with such cruelty is an outrage. He cannot keep doing this to people like us," he took Y/n's hand in his, giving it a soft squeeze, and Thor felt a burning desire to set things right. "Rest assured, I'll find a way to have him restore your abilities."

Y/n shook his head. "There's no need for that. I've accepted my fate as a mortal, and in some ways, I enjoy being human."

Thor's eyebrows ascended. "You do?"

Thor's surprise was evident on his face. The tall God remembered all too well the emotions that had consumed him when he was stripped of his powers and sent to Earth — the anger, the bitterness, and the overwhelming sense of tiredness that came with realizing that walking as a mortal was far more challenging than he had anticipated with long distances.

The waiter nodded in confirmation. "I do. There are some drawbacks to being human, like getting tired and injured, and I do miss being able to manipulate time. But being human granted me a freedom I never experienced before," Y/n paused, a faraway look in his eyes as if recalling a fond memory. "And I even found love."

Suddenly, the air in Central Park seemed to grow thick with each passing second. The once-bright sun was now concealed by the gathering of dark storm clouds. Thunder rumbled in the distance, a low, menacing growl that echoed through the trees. Additionally, the breeze picked up, carrying the scent of impending rainfalls.

Lightning crackled around the god's left fingertips, a visual manifestation of his rising emotions. His vision darkened at Y/n's words, and he gently withdrew his right hand from Y/n's grasp. Did Y/n just say what he thinks he just said? He had—

Y/n had found love. The word "love" reverberated through Thor like a strike of lightning, sending an unwelcome jolt of awareness through him. Love implied intimacy, tangled limbs, and passionate kisses. The thought of Y/n sharing such closeness with someone else awakened a surge of possessiveness through him.

Sensing the change in the weather, Y/n glanced up, noticing the dark clouds that had gathered. He looked around, seeing people leaving the park, then he turned his gaze to the man sitting next to him.

"Uh, Thor?"

Hearing his name, Thor snapped out of his turbulent thoughts and took a steady breath, consciously calming himself. As a response, the clouds above dissipated, replaced by the hot sun. The harsh wind softened, and the lightning that crackled from his fingertips faded away without a trace. The weather returned to normal.

"Love?" Thor echoed, his tone carefully neutral; he grappled with the unfamiliar emotion swirling within him. He tamped down the spike of jealousy, not wanting to seem possessive or unfair. They had been apart for years now, living separate lives, so what right did he have to claim Y/n's heart? And yet, the thought of Y/n being intimate with a male or a female stirred a possessive hunger deep within him, a feeling he had never experienced before, not even during his brief period with Jane. "Who is this person that has captured your heart?" He dangerously murmured disguised as casual curiosity.

Y/n smiled softly. "Her name is Maya."

"And how did you come to meet Maya?" Thor asked, his tone carefully controlled, even as that name rolled off his tongue like a sweet poison. But he schooled his features, keeping his emotions in check.

"Well, when I was sent to Earth, I found myself in the middle of an open road at night. Maya accidentally hit me with her car, but she took me into her apartment to rest up and recover. We spent a lot of time together, and eventually, we started dating as they say. She's a great woman."

A jaw clenched; Thor's teeth grinded as he forced himself to remain composed. So, Y/n had found love with this... Maya. "I see," his fingers curled into a fist. "And Is she aware of your past?" Y/n nodded silently in response. "Where is she now?"

The h/c-haired male seemed completely oblivious to the undercurrents of Thor’s jealousy as he spoke. "Maya had a hair appointment today, but she should be here soon, and you'll get to meet her."

Can't wait, Thor thought. He needed to see this Maya, to put a face to the name that now felt like a curse on his tongue. But more than that, he wanted to assert his presence, to let Maya know that Y/n was his first and would always belong to him. Furthermore, he would make sure—

"There you are, Y/n!"

Instantly, Thor's head whipped around to see a female approaching their bench. This must be Maya. Her dark hair fell in loose waves down to her back, perfectly complementing her complexion and her radiant smile. She wore a comfortable denim jeans jumpsuit that hugged her hips, showcasing her curvaceous figure.

"About time you got here," Y/n stood to greet her with a soft smile, leaning down to brush his lips on her cheek. Her arms wrapped around him, and the affection between the couple was as clear as day.

"Sorry, I had to get my coffee. You know how I get," Maya let out a soft chuckle, her eyes widening as she looked over at the person sitting on the bench with her boyfriend. "Y-You're Thor!" she turned to Y/n again. "You did not tell me your old friend was the Thor from the Avengers!"

Y/n held up his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, you knew I was a god at one point, and that I'd be meeting an old friend. Who's the one, popular god that's currently running around New York City?"

"Still, you could've mentioned it was an Avenger!" Maya exclaimed, turning back to The god, who had been observing the exchange with a neutral expression. She held out her hand for him to shake. "It's so nice to meet you, Thor. I'm a big fan!"

Standing from the bench, Thor's tall and muscular frame towered over Maya, but not Y/n, who stood at a similar height. He shook Maya's hand gently, his gaze flickering briefly to Y/n's. "It's a pleasure to put a face to the name of the woman who has stolen my friend's heart," Thor's voice held an underlying current of quiet possession that the other two didn’t pick up on. "He has told me things about you."

"Oh, has he? Only good things, hopefully."

"I promise, only good things, babe," Y/n assured, his eyes shifting briefly to Thor. "So, Maya and I were just about to go to the carnival. Do you want to tag along?"

The God shook his head. "Thank you for the invitation, but I must decline. I have matters that require my attention back at the Avengers Compound." As much as Thor longed to spend more time with Y/n, he did not want to be a third wheel or see these two being affectionate.

The woman nodded in understanding. "I understand. You have the world to save and all. Perhaps next time if you're free."

"Most definitely," Thor agreed, his eyes following Y/n and Maya as they walked away, with Y/n's left hand in Maya's right.

A frustrated growl rumbled in Thor's throat as he raked a hand through his newly trimmed brown hair. This reunion had not gone as he had envisioned. He had imagined catching up on old times, and perhaps, even confessing his long-held feelings for Y/n. But, unfortunately, Maya's presence had ruined his plans.

The desire to remove this woman from the equation burned within Thor, and he knew there was only one way to do that. However, he understood that any harm brought upon Maya would hurt Y/n, and he didn't want to see his old friend hurt. Therefore, Thor decided to let Maya be.

At least, for now.

XXXXX XXXXX

In all honesty, Thor had been planning to return to the Compound. The thought of witnessing someone else's affection for Y/n was too much to bear. He had turned around, prepared to walk in the opposite direction when he changed his mind.

He turned back, deciding to secretly join Y/n and Maya at the carnival. He needed to see for himself the depth of Maya's love for Y/n when they were together.

The God maintained a discreet distance as he trailed secretly behind Y/n and his unfortunate girlfriend, not wanting them to realize he was following them. A few minutes later, he watched as the couple purchased their admission tickets and walked into the carnival, their hands still entwined. Thor lingered at the entrance, his eyes fixed on their retreating figures.

Thor paused at the entrance of the carnival, his mind formulating a plan. With the money Tony had generously provided, he decided to purchase a cap and sunglasses from the nearby store, employing a tactic he had learned from his time with the Avengers — infiltrating places and staying hidden in plain sight.

After getting his disguise, Thor paid for an admission ticket and stepped inside.

The carnival was alive with the scent of cotton candy, popcorn, and funnel cake, mingling with both the excited chatter of children and the loud music blaring from speakers. People of all ages were there today, laughing and screaming as they rode roller coasters, tested their luck at games, and snacked on delicious foods.

Hidden behind sunglasses and a black cap, Thor moved with the crowd, his tall frame blending seamlessly into the sea of humans. His sharp eyes scanned the area, searching for the man he desired.

And as Thor navigated the carnival, his frustration mounted with each passing minute. He searched in vain for any sign of the couple, eyes scanning the crowds for Y/n and Maya, but couldn't find them anywhere. Heat started burning in Thor's chest that had nothing to do with the hot weather — but was rather fueled by his rising impatience and possessiveness.

"Damn it, where are they?" He muttered under his breath, irritation in his voice.

Thor quickened his pace.

Dodging between families and groups of teenagers, he walked past the game booths, bumper cars, and food stations.

His determined search finally paid off as he spotted Y/n's distinctive profile at the milk bottle toss game booth, a ball in his hands as he prepared to throw it. Maya stood behind him, holding a sundae cup with two spoons, as she cheered Y/n on.

Adjusting his sunglasses, Thor stepped closer to them. He watched as his friend threw the ball and knocked over a stack of milk bottles with accuracy. That didn’t surprise Thor; Y/n had been a seasoned warrior for thousands of years, after all.

The man behind the booth handed Y/n a stuffed animal—a tan plush dog— which Y/n then gave to Maya. Her smile lit up her face when she received the nice gift.

The couple walked away, sharing the sundae and laughing together. Thor's fists clenched at his sides as he fought the instinct to march over and pull Maya away — to claim what was rightfully his.

Instead, Thor forced himself to maintain a cool and distant demeanor, following his prey. He remained hidden, observing their interactions without them knowing. He kept his distance as the couple rode roller coasters, played more games, and indulged in stupid affectionate gestures. Throughout it all, Thor's anger bubbled, especially when Y/n had the audacity to cup Maya's cheek and kiss her softly.

That did it.

Thor knew he had promised himself that he wouldn't hurt Maya for Y/n's sake, not wanting to see him unhappy. But — after witnessing their interactions throughout the day, something snapped within him, and he didn't care about his promise. He decided that Y/n was meant to be happy with him — and him alone. The thought of anyone else having Y/n's heart was unbearable, and Thor found himself no longer caring about the consequences. He had no choice but to get rid of Maya.

On Friday night, Maya was leaving her workplace alone, while Y/n was at work. The night air was crisp, carrying a hint of a chill, as the streetlights casted orange glows along the pavement. Thor silently followed her. He kept a careful distance, mirroring her movements: walking when she walked, turning the corner when she turned, and stopping when she stopped. He hid when she turned around as if she knew somebody was trailing behind her.

A gust of wind rustled the leaves. Maya shivered from the cool, spring weather and pulled her jacket tighter, quickening her pace considerably. Her eyes glanced but she saw no one there. Unbeknownst to her, the threat loomed closer than ever.

As Maya passed an alleyway, the wind picked up again, and she felt a sense of unease. She stilled, feeling like she was being watched, "H-Hello?" she called out, her voice trembling. "Is someone there?"

Silence answered her, but Maya could've sworn she felt eyes boring into her back. She turned around, but the alleyway was empty. With a sense of unease lingering, she began walking, her steps faster now as she hurried towards the safety of her home, never pausing. Finally, she arrived at her apartment building and sauntered inside, the door closing firmly behind her.

As Maya set her keys down on the table and turned around, she let out a startled gasp at the sight of Thor standing there.

Quickly, Thor locked the top and bottom locks, feeling satisfaction from noticing the fear that flashed through her eyes.

Good, Thor thought, satisfied, be scared.

XXXXX XXXXX

The morning sun's rays filtered through the thin curtains, their warmth caressing Y/n's features, gently waking him up. He stretched languidly, and sat up, yawning. Then, the e/c-eyed man opened his eyes completely and headed to the bathroom.

One of the first things Y/n incorporated into his life as a mortal man was a nice skincare regimen. Maya had explained to him that humans often used facial masks to keep their skin clear and free from acne. In his previous life as a god, Y/n had never had to worry about such concerns, as his skin had always been flawless. Without his powers, however, he now found himself susceptible to the same skin issues that plagued mortals. So, he used these facial skin care masks.

Though Y/n can admit that he quite enjoyed these face masks. The soft texture against his skin was surprisingly wonderful, and the masks worked great.

He feels like his sister, Aphrodite.

After completing his morning routine, he grabbed his phone and made his way to the kitchen. He poured himself a cup of coffee, already prepared, as he dialed Maya's number. The ringing tone echoed aloud and was greeted by her voicemail.

The phone heading straight to voicemail didn't entirely surprise Y/n. He knew that she loved sleeping in after a hectic work week. He decided to pay her a surprise visit since he had been given a spare key.

Y/n opened the door and was prepared to step through it when his feet paused and looked down, suddenly noticing the white envelope on the ground. Frowning in confusion, he bent down to pick it up, his eyes scanning the words inscribed on the envelope: "To Y/n, From Maya."

Intrigued, Y/n opened the envelope, his eyes reading over the paragraph, and the frown on Y/n’s features deepened. Huh—

The note read: My dearest Y/n,

Hope all is going well. I just wanted you to know that you’ll always have a special place in my heart, and our relationship is the best thing that ever happened to me.

It pains me to say this, but, to be honest, I have fallen out of love. Our relationship has run its course, and I think we are no longer meant to be. My love for you has faded like a flower wilting under the sun.

Please know that this was an incredibly difficult decision for me, and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.

I wish you nothing but happiness. May you continue to find love and fulfillment in life. And who knows, maybe our paths will cross again when we least expect it. Until that happens tho, farewell, my love.

With a heart full of memories,

Maya.

The note left Y/n stunned and confused. Maya had seemed happy and content in their relationship. How could she just fall out of love and walk away like this? It didn't make sense to him in the least. There's no way this letter could be real.

What—? Huh—? More questions plagued his mind as he couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal and hurt. What had he done wrong? Had he pushed her away without realizing it? Or was there someone else?

Shaking his head, Y/n left his apartment building and headed straight for Maya's place. He needed to hear the reason for her decision from her own mouth, rather than reading it on a piece of paper. That wasn't fair to him and he deserved more.

Y/n's footsteps echoed hurriedly against the pavement as he hurried along the streets, rounding corners and navigating crosswalks. Finally, he arrived at Maya's place and hastily knocked on the door.

There was no response.

Then, Y/n inserted the spare key into the lock, twisted it, and marched inside. He stepped further into the room and called out to Maya when he noticed something.

Maya's apartment was empty.

It was completely devoid of her personal belongings — no furniture, decorations, nothing at all. He searched every room, drawer, and closet, but found no trace of her here. It was as if she never lived here.

Y/n pulled out his phone and tried to call Maya again — but it just went straight to voicemail. The realization sank in — this letter wasn't a joke or a prank. Maya had surely left him, and she hadn't even had the decency to do it in person or provide a proper explanation for her decision.

It was a hurtful and callous way to end their relationship. That's so messed up.

Y/n's hands balled into fists at his sides, the letter crumpling within his grasp. He felt a prickling sensation at the corners of his eyes, and he realized that he was experiencing two very human emotions:

Crying and heartbreak.

Y/n knew that gods experience human emotions such as crying, too. But now that Y/n was human, the experience felt different. In that moment, he understood the depths of his feelings for Maya. This was why mortals spoke of love as both a blessing and a curse — it can give you joy but could also inflict unbearable pain.

He exited Maya's apartment building, the crumpled letter still clutched in his hand, a tangible reminder of what he had lost. His eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, were facing downward as he walked, his thoughts consumed by these emotions. It was this lack of focus that caused him to accidentally bump into someone else, knocking their umbrella from their hand.

Crouching down, Y/n wrapped his hand around the umbrella to pick it up, but he found that he couldn't. Y/n bent down to retrieve the fallen umbrella, however, to his surprise, he found that he couldn't lift it. He tried with both hands this time, but the umbrella remained stubbornly out of reach. Jeez, this simple umbrella feels as hard as trying to lift Thor's hammer—

Wait a minute.

Y/n's eyes drifted upward, and he found Thor standing there, which means this umbrella was Thor's hammer in disguise.

"Oh, hi, Thor." Y/n’s voice came out soft, despite the emotions currently coursing through his mind, releasing his hold on the hammer. "Might want to pick that up."

Thor complied, lifting the hammer, eyes fixed on Y/n's e/c eyes. "Are you okay?"

Y/n’s response was quick. "Yes, I’m fine."

Unconvinced by Y/n's fake composure, Thor placed a hand on his shoulder, his eyes filled with concern. "You know you don't have to pretend to be okay when it comes to me. You can tell me anything."

Finally, Y/n conceded. "Maya left me. Out of the blue, she broke things off and disappeared, and I don't understand why."

Thor's eyes softened, and he pulled Y/n into a comforting embrace. "I'm so sorry to hear that," his voice was, unknowingly, laced with feigned sympathy. "That lady doesn't deserve the honor of your love."

Unbeknownst to Y/n, a smirk played on Thor's lips, his eyes gleaming with a mix of vindication and triumph. He didn't like seeing Y/n in pain, but it was necessary.

The pain was only temporary, and Y/n would eventually get over this simple mortal. Then, there would be room for Thor, and they could finally be together.

In the weeks that followed, Y/n slipped into a deep depression. He spent most days lying in bed, thoughts consumed by the memories of Maya. He questioned everything, from his own worthiness to the nature of love itself. He didn't get it. Why had she left? Was he truly enough? These thoughts ate away at him — like maggots devouring the flesh of the dead.

Additionally, the only thing that stirred him from his bleak existence was his work. The familiarity of the restaurant, the mechanical tasks of serving tables, provided a fleeting sense of normalcy.

And throughout it all, there was only one person who was there for him — Thor.

The God of Thunder checked in on him regularly, offering words of comfort and support for his pal. He brought takeout, watched movies with him, and listened as the man poured out his heart, sharing his heartbreak and confusion. Thor was a great presence during his time of need.

In Thor's presence, he found himself smiling more. His appetite returned, and the dark circles under his eyes gradually faded. Y/n felt a little like himself again.

One evening, after Y/n finished his shift at the restaurant, he found himself with Thor in his bedroom. A movie played in the back, but they were too engrossed in conversation to pay attention to it. Thor had asked Y/n about his deepest desire.

"Well, being here on Earth for a long time made me desire love the most," was his admission as Y/n thought back to when he thought he had found love. "It seems that love is the emotion humans desire the most. I guess I'm one of them too."

Thor's eyes roamed over Y/n's face as if searching for something. And then, with deliberate slowness, he leaned in closer, his thumb gently stroking the back of Y/n's hand, sending shivers down his spine.

"I can give you the love you crave, Y/n," Thor murmured, voice deep and husky, his thumb continuing its gentle caress.

Y/n sat up straighter, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest. He grabbed the remote and turned off the television, their conversation now the sole focus.

"What do you mean?" he asked curiously.

"I mean," Thor's voice rumbled. "I can show you what it means to be desired."

Y/n opened his mouth to ask the man to elaborate when Thor surged forward, his left hand cupping the back of Y/n’s neck and capturing his lips in a brutal kiss. Y/n gasped into the kiss as Thor's tongue, invaded his mouth, tasting and claiming, leaving no doubt about his intentions.

E/c eyes widened in surprise at this, but Y/n didn’t immediately pull away. Thor's kiss was demanding, possessive as his free arm wrapped around Y/n, placing a hand on his back, pulling him closer. Y/n could feel Thor's hardness against his left thigh, straining against the fabric of his pants, and he moaned into the kiss.

Suddenly, Y/n pulled away slightly, breathless. "Thor, I—"

"Shh," Thor placed a finger on his lips, silencing him. "You want this, Y/n. You want my touch, my possession. Admit it, and I'll give you the love that you desire. You’ll forget all about that mortal, Maya."

Stunned by this turn of events, Y/n could only manage a breathless, "Alright," he knew that he did crave this intimacy and always found Thor attractive. He wanted to feel that type of intimacy once more.

Suddenly, he felt the powerful urge to assert his agreement more physically, more explicitly. So, he pushed Thor onto his back, straddling his muscular thighs.

A devilish smile curved Thor's lips as he tugged on Y/n's shirt, eager to taste the body of the guy that he had daydreamed about countless times. With a sharp tug, buttons flew across the room, revealing smooth skin and toned muscles beneath.

"Dangerous move, little waiter," Thor murmured, his hands roaming across Y/n's chest, thumbs grazing perky nipples that tightened, hardened from his touch. "Now, I get to have my way with you."

Then, Thor trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along Y/n's jawline and down his neck. His teeth scraped gently over Y/n's pulse point, nipping and sucking until a dark bruise formed. Y/n's breath hitched as Thor's hand glided lower, his fingers tracing the waistband of his sweatpants.

"You like it when I touch you, don't you?" Thor whispered, his hot breath fanning across Y/n's ear, "Tell me what you want."

Y/n craned his neck to allow Thor better access to his neck and shoulders. "I... I want you to touch me, Thor. Everywhere."

Thor didn’t need a further invitation. His hand slipped beneath the waistband of Y/n's pants, exploring the terrain of his six-pack abs before dipping lower. Y/n arched his back, his breath catching as calloused fingers brushed against the length of his already long, stiff cock.

"You're so hard for me, little one," Thor murmured, fingers teasing the outline of Y/n's length before pulling away. "I want to see it. Want to watch it throb for me."

With trembling fingers, Y/n removed his pants, sliding the fabric down his legs, along with his boxers. His cock twitched eagerly, the head already glistening with pre-cum. He had never been so aroused, so desperate to be touched and taken.

Thor's eyes darkened with desire as he reached for Y/n's cock, stroking it firmly, his right thumb teasing the sensitive slit. "That's it, my beautiful God. Let me see you. Show me how much you want this."

The former God's lips parted on a moan, his hips involuntarily bucking into Thor's hand quickly. "Please, Thor... don't stop."

Thor smirked, the possessive gleam in his eyes undeniable. "I plan to take this much further. But first, I want a taste..."

And with that, Thor leaned down, his hot breath tickling the head of Y/n's cock before his tongue darted out, licking a thick stripe up the underside. Y/n cried out, his hips jerking at the unexpected pleasure, and Thor chuckled, the sound vibrating against Y/n's sensitive flesh.

"So responsive," Thor murmured, his lips wrapping around Y/n's hardness as he sucked and teased with practiced skill.

Y/n threaded his fingers through Thor's hair, his head falling back as sensations bombarded him. Thor's tongue swirled and twirled, his lips sucking on his cock, driving Y/n wild with need. He looked up at Y/n through his eyelashes, reveling in the sight of his pleasure-clouded eyes, and he sucked Y/n's length deep into his mouth, his hands caressing Y/n's thighs, thighs that now tremble with anticipation.

"Please, Thor," Y/n begged, his voice raw with need. "I want to feel you inside me."

Thor released Y/n's cock from his mouth with a lewd pop, saliva dripping from his lips as his fingers unfastened his pants. "Time to see what a real god looks like."

Thor sat up, his eyes flashing with promise as he slowly revealed his thick, veiny cock. Y/n's mouth went dry at the sight, his own spent cock twitching with some renewed interest. Reaching inside the nightstand, Thor discovered a bottle of lube and slicked up his cock for Y/n.

"Damn, Thor, that's huge," Y/n whispered his gaze devouring every inch of Thor's masculine glory. "Even bigger than mine."

A smug grin stretched across Thor's face as he pushed Y/n back against the bed, kicking off his pants in the process. "Get a good look at this and commit this to your memory and your heart, because I intend to make you scream my name."

With that promise ringing in the air, Thor climbed back onto the bed, positioning himself between Y/n’s thighs and lining up the tip of his cock with his entrance.

"Tell me you want this, Y/n. Tell me you want me to fill you up." Thor's voice was low and commanding, his eyes intense.

Y/n nodded eagerly, his breath coming in short gasps. "Yeah, Thor. I want you. Please, take me. I need you inside me."

Hmm, Thor mused and pressed forward, his thick cock breaching Y/n with a slow, relentless thrust. Y/n cried out, his back arching off the bed as he was stretched wider than Y/n could remember. Thor paused, giving him a moment to adjust, but the reprieve was simply short-lived.

Thor began moving, his powerful thrusts driving Y/n into a euphoric haze. The bed creaked beneath them, the sound joined by the lewd slapping of skin and Y/n's loud moans as Thor’s hips moved.

"That's it, take it," The God of Thunder let out a growl, hands gripping Y/n's hips to gain better leverage. "You feel too good wrapped around my cock. I've dreamed of this... dreamed of claiming you, babe."

Y/n's eyes squeezed shut as he clung to Thor, his nails digging into the tall God's broad shoulders. "Oh, Thor, right there," he gasped, his entire body trembling on the edge of release. "Damn, I'm so close."

Thor's pace quickened, breath coming in hot, ragged gasps. "Open your eyes and look at me," he demanded, causing Y/n's eyes to snap open, his gaze locking with Thor's, and the Avenger's hand found his cock once again. "You make me feel like a true God. I could fuck you forever, but right now, I want you to come for me."

"Oh... fuck..."

In response to Thor's words, Y/n's body tightened like a coil, and he came with a hoarse cry, his release coating Thor’s fingers. Then, Thor emptied himself into Y/n, his hips stuttering as he rode out his orgasm, painting Y/n’s ass hole in ribbons of white. He maintained eye contact with Y/n the whole time. Mine.

Panting and sweaty, Thor pulled out of Y/n and they collapsed against the bed, hearts beating fast from their encounter.

Thor pressed a tender kiss to Y/n's lips, his hands stroking the sweat-dampened skin of Y/n's torso. "You're incredible, Y/n. We were always meant to be together."

This was a known fact, and tonight was simply proof of their love for each other. Now, he needed to make sure Maya was fully out of the picture (Thor forced her to write that note to Y/n, and had set up a secret camera in Y/n's apartment, the footage transmitted to a hidden monitor in another location where he kept Maya chained and captive). Now that she had seen the love between them, he would tell Heimdall to execute her, ensuring she posed no threat to their happiness again.

Now, all that remained was for Odin to restore Y/n's powers. Then, they would be together forever, unburdened by the constraints that mortality has on people.

Just as it was meant to be.

XXXXX XXXXX

605 notes · View notes

jaythes1mp · 4 months ago

Text

Your secrets are ours, kid

Yandere BatFam x Reader — CH10 -> CH9 -> CH8 -> CH7 -> CH6 -> CH5 -> CH4 -> CH3 -> CH2 -> CH1

5528 words, 31958 characters, 321 sentences, 115 paragraphs, 22.1 pages.

Dick silently observed your sleeping form through meticulously concealed cameras around the room, a secret the family have kept even from Jason's knowledge.

He couldn't help but smile softly at the sight of you, cozily wrapped up in the soft woolen blankets he had masterfully orchestrated to be displayed on pop up ads all over your computer. Using Tim's hacking skills to flood your screen with countless ads for the snug blankets. He had spent months immersed in countless YouTube tutorials and enduring more pricks of his fingers from the knitting kits than he cared to admit. All in an effort to perfect the soft wool necessary to create the cozy blankets he observed you always instinctively seeking out when shopping, seeking to replicate that soothing comfort the same way your favourite sweaters did.

Dick waited quietly for over twenty minutes behind the front door, his phone held in his hand, with a soft grin playing on his lips. He knew the subtle creak of the wood would rouse you from your sleep, and he prepared himself to be the first thing you saw upon waking up.

Grayson couldn't help but coo softly as he observed you, looking around in confusion. You were so adorably clueless without your siblings to guide you, like a lost little bird.

He softly taps his knuckles against the door, but flinches backward as the wood creaks loudly, creating a resounding echo. He quickly checks his phone to see you flinching, and hisses under his breath, "Damn it."

He quickly flicks the app and pockets his phone, fiddling with his clothes to look perfect for your little outing.

After another five minutes of patient waiting, Dick drops his smile and knocks again, this time in a more rushed manner. He can't help but feel just a tad bit impatient, his fingers itching to see you.

He hears a soft thump and a low hiss followed by a curse, and Dick has to stifle a soft, amused chuckle. You must have toppled off of the couch, quite ungracefully, if the muffled cursing is any indication.

He glances down at his watch, noting the time - 01:24 PM. He muses mentally that there's still a good hour remaining before the reservation, plenty of time to coax you out of your cosy apartment and into some suitable clothes.

Dick hums a soft tune to himself as he waits, his fingers unconsciously fidgeting with the anxiety ring Tim had gifted him for Christmas. The fond smile on his lips widens as his deep ocean eyes crinkle with the gesture.

He straightens up, smoothing his hand delicately down his shirt as his gaze zeroes in on the door handle, listening intently to the distinct click as the lock disengages. A soft, sincere smile graces Dick's face as the door swings open to reveal you, disheveled and bleary-eyed. He can't help but find your drowsy appearance endearing.

Grayson’s voice comes out gruff and deeper than intended as he utters a soft, "Hey..." in greeting, the sound catching in his throat for the briefest of moments. He quickly gathers his composure, clearing his throat as he takes in your sleep-rumpled appearance. You looked even better in person.

The fond smile on your face was causing his heart to race. His baby bird. So grown up...

“What are you doing here so early, Grayson?” Hearing you speak jars Dick out of his thoughts, and he quickly runs his fingers through his hair, attempting to smooth it back into place. He can't help but imagine you calling him "big bro," the thought causing his heart to skip a beat, and he mentally berates himself for it.

"I wanted to see how my favourite little bird is doing," he responds with a crooked smile, trying to play it cool. Or rather, that’s how he wanted to reply. Unfortunately, his attempt to play it cool is thwarted. He aims to reply with a casual nonchalance, but instead, his words come out as a spluttering mess. "It's already past one," he manages to utter, his voice cracking halfway through the words. Dick inwardly cringes at the voice crack, mentally cursing himself for faltering so visibly. “It's not that early.”

"I came to see how you're doing," Dick swiftly recovers, leaning casually against the doorframe as he explains his unexpected arrival. "Jason gave me the address," he quickly responds, noticing the confusion etched across your face. He mentally chides himself for appearing so flustered, knowing he needs to come up with a plausible explanation for his sudden visit.

It isn't until your brows furrow and the question leaves your lips that he realises he may have inadvertently revealed his connection to Jason. His mind races for an excuse, realising he needs to tread carefully to avoid raising further suspicion. He hates having to lie to his baby birdy. You deserve to know the truth. But he also knows that Bruce is keeping the information from you for a reason.

Dick can feel his body tensing up, and he forces a soft chuckle past his lips, trying to act casual and nonchalant. His mind is racing, searching for a suitable response to diffuse the situation before you can continue questioning him. “You could... definitely say that.”

Before you can react, the older man swiftly brushes past you, stepping into the apartment and moving deeper into the living area. His sudden movement leaves you momentarily speechless. He almost chuckles at the surprise flashed all over your face.

As you part your lips to speak he quickly steps in, his gaze darting all over your face, committing every little pore and feature to memory. “We’ve got our reservation in an hour.” The man can't contain his excitement as he moves further into your flat, his gaze darting around the room with a poorly disguised smile. He's inside your home, in civilian clothes, while you're awake. This is a moment he's envisioned countless times, and he can't help the sense of giddiness that washes over him.

Your mind races as you follow Dick further into the apartment. A reservation? You weren't expecting any plans today, least of all with Dick. Questions dance on the tip of your tongue, waiting to be asked, but the time constraint and the sense of urgency in his words makes it impossible to voice them.

"Dick, what –” he promptly interrupts you with a firm glance, but instantly softens when he sees the pout on your face. His expression quickly changing to a sheepish one.

"No time for questions," he grins, casting a fond glance in your direction before reluctantly shifting his attention to the surrounding apartment in search of something suitable for you to wear.

As Dick begins walking around the living area, he swiftly and efficiently sets about collecting a variety of clothing items. He snatches up a hoodie, a pair of shoes, and a jacket before adding them to the growing pile beside him. He carefully lays out the garments as he proceeds to plan your entire outfit for the day, as if he's already made up his mind about how you should look.

He maneuvers around the apartment carefully, avoiding any of Jason's clothes like second nature. He's all too familiar with the other boy's habit of leaving his belongings scattered around recklessly. He has no intention of stepping into the minefield that is Jason's mess. Rolling his eyes affectionately at the sight before him, Dick couldn’t help but find the scene slightly endearing.

His mind flicks through the various pieces of clothing he knows are in your closet, but he quickly shakes his head in dismissal. This will have to do for now. He scoops up the collection of clothes, folding them neatly and slinging the stack of clothing over your shoulder cheekily.

He takes a brief pause, his deep ocean eyes locking onto your own for a moment. Searching for something that he seems to find in your expression. A subtle smile tugs at the corners of his mouth before he turns away to begin searching the room for a bag.

You catch the clothes before they can fall to the floor, raising a quiet eyebrow as you look at Dick. "Are you asking me to change now?" you ask, your voice tinged with mild amusement. God, he loved your voice. He's mesmerized by the sweetness in your tone, the way your words seem to dance effortlessly off your tongue. He could listen to you talk all day, every day. It was like music to his ears. The sweet, hypnotising tone that seemed to always reel him in. His baby bird.

His gaze shifts to the area where he recalls seeing a bag on the surveillance footage from last week, when you had used it to buy some pet food. His eyes roam over the floor, searching intently for the bag he had spotted before. “Not particularly asking," A grin tugs at his lips as he spots the small backpack shoved underneath a chair in the corner. Triumphant, he moves over and picks it up, the familiar canvas material gripped in his hand. "It's more of a gentle suggestion."

He turns back to you, holding up the backpack with a victorious expression on his face. "Found the bag," he declares, throwing it towards you. Without missing a beat, he resumes his search, scannings the room diligently with meticulous attention to detail. His gaze doesn't miss a single spot, methodically checking every corner as if it were second nature to him.

"Why do we need a bag?" Your voice cuts through the room, causing Dick to shift his attention back towards you. He silently scolds himself, suppressing the overwhelming desire to croon at the innocent confusion in your tone. In his eyes, you're like a little lost bird, fluttering around cluelessly, desperately in need of guidance from your big brother.

He takes a moment to steady himself, his shoulders visibly relaxing slightly. He moves closer to you, bridging the small distance that separates you. Resting his weight on the back of a chair, his gaze locks onto yours. His voice is soft and tender, a gentle attempt to soothe your curiosity. "We just do," he reiterates gently, as if hoping to ease your confusion.

He leans in further, his voice taking on a more soothing tone. "Don't worry about it," he says slowly, his words meant to assure any anxiety.

His response leaves you frustrated, the vagueness doing little to satisfy your curiosity. Huffing in annoyance, you turn on your heel and stride down the corridor with purposeful steps. You march into your bedroom, closing the door behind you with an audible click, effectively shutting him out. Dick remains in the room, watching your hasty exit with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. In his eyes, your childish huffiness was nothing short of adorable.

He steps forward and leans his weight against the side of the couch, a tender smile playing on his lips. He listens intently to the soft rustling sounds coming from behind the closed door, where you are presumably changing. Though he can't see you, he is intimately aware of your every movement, each shuffle of fabric echoing in the room like a secret. The closed door serves as a deceptive veil of privacy, one that holds little power in his eyes.

He continues to listen, his sharp senses picking up every subtle sound from behind the door. The soft thud of your footsteps, the quiet sigh as you pull on a shirt, the gentle whisper of fabric against skin. He can almost picture the way your body would move, and a part of him wishes he could see each motion, commit it to memory.

The desire that wells within him is not one of a sexual nature. Instead, it is a yearning for a deeper, more intimate connection. For the kind of trust that comes from being laid completely bare, defenseless. He longs for a moment when you are vulnerable before him, stripped of all defenses and pretences. Where you place unwavering trust in him, giving him the chance to truly cherish and protect you, to cherish the trust you place in him as you reveal your true self. It’s what he yearns for.

Dick's gaze flickers up at the sound of the door handle turning, his eyes immediately fixating on your form as you step out of the bedroom. The sight of you wearing the clothes he had carefully chosen fills him with satisfaction. Each piece fits you just like he had envisioned, and he can't help but admire the way the fabric drapes over your frame.

He casually pushes himself away from the couch, his gaze trailing over your figure with open appreciation. His smile widens as he moves closer, closing the distance between you until he stands within an arm’s length away.

He reaches out, his fingers gently brushing the fabric of your shirt, as if he can't help himself. "Looks good," he murmurs, a hint of pride and possessiveness in his voice. The words spoken lower than a whisper, as if he’s talking to himself.

“See, didn’t I pick the best outfit?" he teases, his voice gentle and affectionate. He reaches out to tug lightly on the sleeve of your hoodie, a soft smile playing on his lips. The fabric is smooth and soft under his touch, and he takes a moment to simply savor the feeling of it against his fingers.

He tilts his head in a subtle move, his gaze tracing over every contour of your face. His eyes rove over your features, meticulously cataloguing them in his memory. It’s an unconscious act, a silent check to confirm that you're alright, that you're there and safe. Just within his reach.

Dick looks up, instantly recognising the irritation in your stance. It's a sight all too familiar, one reminiscent of a certain Damian. Your arms crossed defiantly, like a petulant child. He can't help but let a sheepish smile tug at the corner of his mouth. "What's that look for?" he teases, attempting to dissipate the tension. He can almost hear Tim's voice in the back of his mind, commenting on how much you resemble the youngest Wayne.

Your eyes narrow slightly, the irritation etched deep in your expression. Frustration is evident as you shift uneasily on your feet in the silence that follows. The atmosphere feels charged, weighed down by the unspoken.

Finally, you cut through the tension. Your tone is firm, demanding as you address him directly. "Dick, seriously," you say abruptly, cutting off any attempt at banter. "Why am I changing? Where are we going? You're being ridiculously vague."

Dick lets out a resigned sigh, his smile faltering slightly under the weight of your direct question. He had been hoping to delay this conversation until later, but he's aware that your persistence won’t allow for any evasion.

He runs a hand through his hair, messing up the neatly styled locks. His expression turns serious as he locks his gaze with yours. While the constant questioning can occasionally be irksome, he can’t help but find a certain charm in it, that endearing childlike curiosity that often drives you.

The answer is simple, stated as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “We’re going out.” It’s a straightforward statement, short and lacking in any further details or context. He preens at the way your face contorts in confusion. You looked cute.

You're about to question him, craving more details about the plan, but before you can utter a word, Dick interrupts. He holds up his hand, preemptively stopping any further inquiry. "And before you ask," he starts, his voice steady, "I can't tell you where." His gaze gleams with amusement.

His voice is steady and unwavering, carrying a firmness that leaves no room for debate. But deep in his eyes, a flicker of conflicting emotions dances - a mixture of concern and determination. Dick understands that he can't divulge everything just yet. He knows the truth has to remain hidden, cloaked in secrecy. However, as he gazes at you at this very moment, his heart clenches. It's difficult to keep the truth from you, to prevent himself from simply sweeping you away right in that instant. His contemplation abruptly comes to a halt as you take a step closer to him, closing the distance between you.

You let out a soft sigh, moving closer to him. Your arms are held out, your annoyance evident in the slight pout on your face. The action sparks a tightening sensation in Dick's chest, his heart reacting instinctively to the sight of you waiting with your arms open, an unspoken plea for affection.

Your pout brings about an immediate transformation in Dick. His manner softens, a fond chuckle escaping his lips as he recognises the familiar indication of frustration. In response, he pushes himself off the couch and moves closer, promptly wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you against him.

His embrace is firm and secure, an unspoken message of reassurance. His chest brushes against yours with each breath, a comforting presence. He pulls you against him, your body fitting perfectly in the space between his arms. Dick buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent.

He tightens his arms around you, drawing you closer to his chest. In another context, he would likely take the opportunity to tease you about your pout, a behaviour he always finds endearing. But in this moment, there's a sense of urgency that hangs heavy on his shoulders. A silent understanding flickers in his eyes, and he pulls you even closer, his breath warm against your skin.

He senses the tension that courses through your form, the frustration and confusion palpable in your stance. In response, he begins to gently run his hands up and down your back, trying to ease the anxiety that clings to your body. His fingers press softly into your skin, a familiar touch that he hopes brings a sense of comfort. At the thought of you being upset, he feels a wave of protective anger wash over him. After all, no one should hurt his little sibling. Ever.

Dick rests his chin on the top of your head, his eyes closing for a moment. He can feel the rise and fall of your chest against his, the rhythm of your breathing, the steady beat of your heart. He memorizes each sensation, committing them to memory.

He takes a deep breath, the scent of your shampoo filling his nose. He inhales deeply, the familiar fragrance calming his nerves. He can hear your own steadying breaths, the soft exhale against his chest.

Holding you close in his embrace, he murmurs into the softness of your hair, his words carrying the weight of sincere reassurance. "Trust me, okay?" he says, his voice resolute. There's no room for argument, only a plea for your unwavering trust.

He feels your response in an instant, your arms encircling him tightly and pulling him closer to you, their grip firm yet tender. As you look up at him, a small, tentative smile begins to form on your lips, the earlier irritation dissolving under the soothing presence of his proximity.

The furrow between your eyebrows softens, replaced by the hint of a smile. The stiffness in your frame begins to subside, the aggravation gradually fading away as he continues to hold you, his touch working its magic. You're blissfully unaware of the effect you have on him, each little expression making his heart swell.

A wave of warm affection washes over him as he gently pushes a strand of hair out of your face. His hand then moves to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing the contour of your skin affectionately. His words, soft and soothing, break the silence. "Ready to go?" The image of you, nestled in his arms, is so vividly etched into his mind that he never wants to forget it. In that moment, you were his. His baby bird.

You roll your eyes, the gesture lighthearted and amusing. You lean your head into his touch, your features relaxing into a softer expression.

"I guess," you say, adding a touch of sarcasm. Despite the ambiguity and the unanswered questions, there's a sense of reassurance in being with him. The bond between you is deep-rooted. In that moment he knows that you trust him completely.

A wide grin spreads across Dick's face as you pull away, his arms dropping to his sides. The mixture of curiosity and subtle irritation in your eyes amuses him. He meets your gaze, his own eyes sparkling with a hint of his characteristic playfulness. "You'll find out soon enough; no need to worry." Even though the words are casual, the undertone of his voice indicates a barely concealed desperate urge to pull you back into his embrace.

He turns away, picking his jacket up from the back of a chair. He slings it over his shoulder, gesturing towards the door. “C'mon, we've got a reservation to catch.”

Dick leads you down a quieter street, away from the hustle and bustle of the main road. The ambiance of the area is distinctly more upscale, the shops and restaurants here a noticeable step above the rest of the city. A place he’s spent countless hours researching. It’s perfect for you, it’s got the food you like, it’s one of the lowest crime rates in the city, and the family has full control of the surrounding areas.

He guides you towards the charming little bistro, the soft light of the outdoor lanterns creating chiaroscuro patterns on his features. Dick can't help himself; his hand moves instinctively to tousle your untamed, bedraggled hair, a fond gesture of affection.

A satisfied smirk lights up Dick's face, his confidence evident. "Told you I've got this under control," he gestures toward the entrance. "Let's go."

Dick opens the door, gesturing for you to enter before him. The restaurant's interior exudes refinement, but he barely spares it a glance, his focus entirely on you as he allows himself to admire you.

Immediately, a sharply dressed host approaches, her spine ramrod straight and chin held high. Dick's voice is assured and unruffled. "Reservation for Grayson," he states, his manner self-assured and laid-back. The host already is aware, of course, but Dick is well aware he needs to keep you from posing any unnecessary queries.

The waitress gives a knowing nod, sharing a silent understanding with Dick. She affixes her most polite smile and phrases her question with a courteous tone, "The four-in-one show, is it?"

"That’s the one," he responds casually. The waitress nods in agreement and leads the way to the reserved area. Dick naturally gravitates toward you, his hand finding its way back to your waist, the touch both possessive and reassuring as he tenderly guides you.

The reserved area is tucked away in a remote corner of the restaurant, deliberately secluded from the main dining area. It's a cozy, intimate space adorned with soft lighting, a small circular table topped with sparkling glassware, and padded, inviting armchairs.

Dick courteously draws out your chair for you, waiting patiently until you are comfortably seated before taking his seat opposite you.

He hums, watching over you for a moment before the silence is broken. "What the hell was the waitress talking about?" you ask, leaning your cheek against your palm.

Dick gives a soft chuckle as he settles into his seat across from you, a sly smile tugging at his lips. "You’ll see," he answers in a purposely vague manner, his eyes nonchalantly roaming over the leather-bound menu. However, his attention is not fully focused on the menu. His gaze drifts towards you as he steals furtive glances, observing every move you make with a hawk-like intensity that only an older brother has.

Dick observes your struggle for a few moments, watching as you squint at the small, intricate script scrawled across the menu. He can’t help but chuckle softly, the endearing sight amusing him.

"Struggling there, birdie?" he teases with a smirk. The name slipping past his lips absently.

"How can anyone read this?" He watches you toss the menu down, slouching back in your chair in frustration. Dick grins warmly at your disgruntled expression and reassures you, a touch of humor in his voice. "You get used to it," he informs you, the hint of amusement in his tone evident. "Reading these fancy menus is all part of the experience, y’know."

He leans back in his chair, folding his hands on the tabletop. He takes a moment to observe you as you continue to mutter and fuss, clearly not appreciating the fanciful script and intricate typography on the menu. Inwardly, he wanted nothing more than to gush over how adorable you looked with that disgruntled expression plastered across your face.

"Whoever made these is a sadist," Dick chuckles deeply, the sound echoing in the small, intimate space, making the air feel even more private. "You're right," he confirms, his tone laced with a hint of amusement. "But don't worry," he assures you, a grin forming on his lips. "I'll step in to help you read the rest, if needed."

Your eyes narrow as you respond defensively. "I'm not a child. I don’t need help to read." the eldest brother clenches his teeth firmly, struggling to hold back a heated retort. he bites his tongue. But you are.

Dick expertly buries his inner thoughts beneath a veneer of false joviality, holding up his hands in an exaggerated gesture of surrender. His forced smirk attempts to mask his true feelings, as he replies in that charming manner of his. "Hey, I never said you did," he says smoothly, his tone still even and lighthearted.

"I was just offering my services as a personal menu translator," he teases, smirk deepening as you roll your eyes playfully, clearly enjoying your little bit of banter.

"You're cute when you're stubborn," he comments, the compliment slipping out almost effortlessly, like it's something he says every day. And when it comes to you, it really is.

Dick leans back in his chair, lifting the glass of water to his lips and taking a measured sip. A momentary silence descends upon the conversation as both of you stare down at the menu, each of you lost in your own thoughts. After a brief pause, he speaks up once again, the quiet finally broken.

Dick couldn't help but laugh again in response to your indignant hiss. Your defiant, pouty expression was just too adorable to resist, an almost complete 180 from your usual demeanor. "So," he asks casually, "finding anything interesting on there? Or is it all just gibberish to you?" You shoot a glare in his direction, muttering a frustrated "Oh, shut up."

"Hey," Dick returns with a teasing smile, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "It’s not my fault you can’t read fancy, tiny writing." Leaning forward, he rests his forearms on the tabletop as he continues, his tone more earnest now. "Seriously, though, have you found anything you'd like? I can order for us if you'd like," the peace offering clear in his voice.

A small smile graces your lips as you finally set the menu aside. Leaning back into the chair, you place your arms over your chest and turn to Dick, addressing him with a faux-dramatic flair. "Alright, Mr. Fancy Menu Translator," you declare. "Surprise me." Dick grins widely, thoroughly pleased at your response. He lifts an eyebrow, savoring the moment before speaking again. "Challenge accepted," he replies, his tone filled with playful confidence.

"Surprise it is then." Dick chuckles softly, his gaze flickering over the menu, though it is clear that his attention is entirely on you, rather than the list of dishes. With a smooth precision, he signals for a nearby waiter and places your orders with expert ease. Once the waiter steps away, his gaze turns back to you, a proud smirk plastered on his face.

"Alright, you're in my hands now," Dick's smirk deepens, your name rolling effortlessly off his tongue. You roll your eyes dramatically in response to his conceited attitude, though inside you can't deny the quiet thrill it sparks in you. He always knew how to keep things exciting and engaging. "In your hands, huh?" you muse, arching an eyebrow in a faux-skeptical manner. "Should I be worried?"

The warm, cerulean depths of Dick’s eyes follow your movements closely, noticing the unconscious way you shift towards him, as if seeking out his presence. A wave of protectiveness washes over him, yearning to envelop you in his embrace and keep you safe forever. But he quells the urge, choosing to bask in the moment, relishing the time he has to spend with you. "Oh, I think you should be very worried.”

Grayson leans forward, matching your position and bringing himself closer to you across the table. In a soft, almost imperceptible gesture, he subtly brushes his knee against yours beneath the tabletop, the touch gentle and affectionate.

"But don’t worry," he adds, his tone shifting into something slightly more genuine. "I’ll take good care of you."

You grimace and let out a mock gag, dramatically clutching your stomach as a playful response. Your voice drips with sarcasm as you shoot back, “What, did you steal that from a soap opera?”

Dick feigns offence, a hand dramatically flying to his chest as he gasps dramatically. "Me? Steal from a soap opera? I’m wounded," he grins, his tone equally as sarcastic as yours. Nose scrunching up in extra flair. He revels in this moment, you were acting like true siblings would. He wonders if you somehow know, if you’re somehow aware, but he squishes down the thought.

"You’re supposed to swoon, by the way. That’s usually the natural response to such declarations.”

"Sorry to disappoint," you reply dryly. "I’ll be sure to swoon next time. Maybe I’ll even swoon so hard I fall out of my seat." Dick chuckles heartily at your retort, the sound deep and genuine.

"Careful there," he teases. "I’d hate for you to give yourself a concussion. I’m still enjoying my night." He reaches out to gently pinch your cheek before pulling his hand away, his smile still firmly in place.

You scoff at the action, leaning back in your chair and rubbing your cheek. A soft glare thrown his way. "Stop it," you warn, though your tone lacks any real seriousness. "You’re such a child sometimes."

Dick grins unrepentantly, clearly unworried about your 'warning.'

"You love it," he says, his tone cocky as ever. He has the smug expression of someone who knows exactly how true his statement is.

"I do not," he holds back a giggle at your huff. You narrow your eyes. "You're infuriating, you know that?"

Dick grins wider, clearly satisfied with your response. He leans back in his seat, his arms crossing over his chest.

"Oh, I know," he replies, his tone smug. "But you love it, admit it."

“It sounds like you’re just trying to get me to tell you that.” You shoot him an unimpressed look, which Grayson shoulders almost too easily. He tilts his knee further into your own, seeking out your warmth.

"And if I am?" he responds, that cocky grin still on his face.

Dick leans forward yet again, the proximity between you decreasing with every movement. His intense stare remains unwavering, fixed intently upon your eyes. "Admit that you love it when I tease you," he murmurs, a hint of mischief in his voice, "and I’ll stop."

Dick can barely contain the storm of emotions churning inside him at the thought of you confessing your feelings first. His heart soars with elation and giddiness, his mind spinning with sheer joy. My baby bird. In his mind, he silently pleads say it. Please, just say you love me.

"Yeah, alright. Whatever. So what if I do?" You respond with a reluctant shrug, leaning back against the chair, feigning nonchalance. Dick's heart skips a beat, the nonchalant dismissal causing a surge of excitement within him. It takes all his self-control to contain the overwhelming rush of emotions bubbling up inside.

Dick grins widely in response, the triumph in his voice evident as he gloats. "See? Was that so hard?" he teases. "Admitting that you love my teasing." His smirk widens even further, the cocky satisfaction of knowing he has you wrapped around his finger all too clear.

He moves his elbow onto the table, resting his chin against the palm of his hand as he stares at you intently. A smoldering, almost intense look in his eyes, the playfulness in his tone masking the deeper emotions hidden beneath. "I knew you couldn't resist my charm," he drawls, his voice dropping even lower, filled with a mixture of smugness and possessiveness. You can't help but snort at his arrogance.

“Dick.”

Your voice causes him to pout involuntarily. The way you say it makes him think you're not actually calling out his name, and a frown momentarily mars his features.

No use of y/n, no descriptive features used, no gender mentioned.

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