#after attempting to trace things back to figure out why the hell and fuck this is hitting us so hard we have discovered

[mantisgodsdomain]

Slightly less Dread today. We are celebrating this occasion by becoming an outdated stereotype of an old lady and struggling to knit against the will and wish of the cat attacking our fucking yarn. This does not necessarily help with anything directly, but it gives us something to focus on that isn't Dread, and that is dearly needed. If we can spare the brainspace for it, we may fire up a podcast for background noise later, or something of the like. In the current state of being, most audio things will just tip things over into being overwhelming, but if we've got enough free processing to handle this soon, we can probably listen to something. Not out of the woods yet, but if we can continue to grapple things back under control, we can probably get somewhere.

[aizawasbrazybaby]

❥𓂃𓏧Freak Like Me

𖦹Warnings: Corrupt Cop!Nanami x Fem!Reader, Pet names? (Calls reader Beautiful a lot), Semi-public (car sex), p in v sex, Oral (fem receiving), Very brief mention of blood, Cervix kissing, Dubcon (consent is implied but he doesn’t ask before touching reader)

𖦹Word Count: 1.7k (I had to restrain myself from making it longer🥲)

🫧: Hello everyone sorry for any mistakes I always try to proof read at least twice before posting. Also I’ll be attempting to upload here and WP on Fridays at 5pm est.🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

Summaryᐕ: It was supposed to be a late night traffic stop…only he was off duty and everyone knows what happens after dark.

Air moved deeply through your lungs harshly exiting your nose. Those fluorescent blue and red lights flashed obnoxiously bright, forcing your eyes to shut into a squint. The officer’s tall figure strutted over to your old compact sedan that was honestly hanging on by the grace of god herself. His blonde hair and white skin contrasted the chilled bitter darkness. Fingers tapped the window and signed for it to be rolled down. Your eyes hit the back of your head as you followed the lawful command.

And holy fuck…

A chill ran up your spine. He looked like the finest piece of art man could make- so much so you had to do a double take at the patrol car to see if it was the real deal. That this wasn’t an elaborate prank by some shitty tv show or idiotic influencers that didn’t know how illegal impersonating an officer was.

“Pretty late for a lady like you to be out here dontcha think,” he glanced at the bloody scrubs in your passenger seat, “long night?”

“That easy to tell?” your fingers rubbed at the dark circles under both eyes, “sorry but is your bodycam on?”

A strange mix of a laugh and hum rumbled in his throat, “license and registration ma’am.”

A demand.

Mint intertwined in his cool breath as he let out an annoyed sigh waiting for you to gather your things. As if you initiated the traffic stop on him. He softly snatched at the forms you handed to him.

“What has you out here so late, nurse ____?” His gaze flickered back to the passenger seat.

“Doctor,” you corrected.

“What?”

“It’s Dr._____ I’m not a nurse.”

He grinned, “well, many apologies for my ignorance.” You looked in his narrow eyes and something shifted in you. In both of you. Your pants felt almost suffocating on your throbbing pussy as that honey-like essence pooled to your center.

“I-I just got off work at the hospital,” you pointed behind you, “third twelve hour shift this week. I pulled over to get some sleep, heard somewhere that driving tired is as bad as driving drunk.”

Why’s his stare gotta be so intense? Your mind raced. Eyes lowering to his beautifully plump lips. Watching his tongue swipe teasingly slow over the bottom one before it was held between his teeth.

Good fucking God.

“Have you been drinking tonight?” You could have swore a glimpse of a grin flashed just as quickly as it had disappeared . His calloused fingers softly traced your jawline, thumb running across your lips. A line was crossed. Several lines. But shit it’s been so long since you’d been caressed. And the man before you was so alluring. You leaned into Nanami’s touch- your eyes fluttering shut for a second before burning into his.

“No, officer.”

“Why don’t you step out for me beautiful,” his voice low and seductive. Embarrassment burned through you from how quickly you obeyed. Horny and stupid. Desperate and horny. He looked you up and down then grabbed your hands. Cold to the touch but you didn’t pull away, placing them behind your head, “Lock your fingers.”

Holy hell he was close.

You could feel the heat emanating from his mouth. Circling you he stopped behind, pressing against your back. His belt. The service belt was nowhere to be found. Pressure started at the wrist and worked its way to your waist. Outlining the shape. His fingers trailed over your breasts. so. very. slow. Each finger took its time feeling the buds that hardened under.

Desperation made itself known from a slight gasp that morphed into a whimper, “shit.”

Nanami groaned in response. He walked back around, hands lowering to the fat of your ass gripping and squeezing. He placed a kiss on your cheek and nipped at your jaw.

“Sir,” you glanced at the abandoned strip of road, “not out here.”

His hand pulled to the front rubbing your pussy through your thin sweats. His digits worked their way inside feeling how wet you were. Snatching a moan from your throat that your own ears struggled to recognize. No panties. A bold move on your end.

“Get in the backseat,” his teeth caught on your bottom lip. An arm rounded your waist pulling you away from your car before opening the door for you. He blocked your head from hitting the top of the doorway like he would if sticking you in his squad truck.

Before you could speak your sweats were around your ankles. His eyes looked back at you as he kissed up your thigh, “want me to stop?”

“No!” Your voice was under a shout. Loud. Desperate. And beyond fucking horny for the stranger with his upper half leaning between your legs. The other hanging out the car.

He chuckled, “okay doctor.” His tongue ran up your slit catching the enticing liquid that glazed parts of your skin. Ecstasy swam through your veins and straight to where the man was now sucking your sensitive clit. Hands sliding through his healthy locks he moaned on your cunt. You hissed at the feeling.

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.

You sat your head up seeing Nanami dig in your pocket and pull out your phone. He flashed the screen and your heart skipped a beat. “Don’t.” From his shit eating grin you knew he wasn’t gonna listen. He firmly pressed the green answer and tossed you the phone.

“Hey JESS,” you stifled the moan that clawed to be set free. The cop pushed your thighs apart, thrusting his middle and ring fingers inside. You squeezed your eyes shut at the sudden intrusion. Savoring that pain spiked with pleasure.

Is that mommy? Your six year old asked sleepily in the background.

Hey Miss.____ I was just checkin on ya. It’s pretty late just wanted to see if everything was okay

“Y-yes hon everything’s fine just got off work a bit late.”

Nanami unbuttoned his slacks, releasing his erection. Lining himself to your pussy that clenched around nothing. He smiled from ear to ear slowly inching himself deep.

That’s good. Baby Kiri keeps askin for ya wanna say good night before I put her to bed?

“No!” you lowered your tone, taking a fistful of Kento’s shirt, “no need I’ll s-see her when I g-get home.”

He took the phone muting and keeping it on speaker, “lemme hear you beautiful,” his pace increased. Squelching and your squeals filled the car, “fuck darling n-nice and loud. That’s it.”

“Nanami,” you whimpered, “fuck pleaseee.” You dragged.

“Uh uh Kento when I’m fucking you,” he smirked.

Why not? Hello? ___ are you there? Is everything okay?

He thrust one last time before plunging his cock deep inside. And fuck. Fuck. fuck. fuck. His tip was pressing against your cervix. Your legs started to shake slightly but enough where he noticed. And you clenching tight around him had his eyes rolling back and breathing heavy.

Unmute. “I-I’m fine Jess. Just in a bit of a s-situation right now.”

His hips rocked slowly bringing that tight coil closer. His teeth glided over your throat, “gonna drive me crazy hang up that damn phone,” you could sense his lust from his deep whisper.

Should I send someone out there? What’s happening?

“No need, ‘mtaking good care of her,” he growled at the nanny.

Who is this? Where’s ___??

“Gonna have to, ah, call you b-back.” You tried your best not to let it out but that moan slipped through and no doubt she picked up. Nanami took your phone tossing it atop those dirty scrubs.

Oh…ohh, it clicked. She hung up immediately.

He slammed his hips into yours. Faster. Stronger. Until that coil grew so tight in the both of you that you were shouting each other's names as you came. His hot cum filling you up so full and you leaving your cream all over him that is splattered just below his belly button. Drained of all his energy and stamina he rocked into you riding out the high to both of your orgasms.

“Kento,” you said breathlessly, “thank you.” Of course he didn’t know what you were thanking him for. Didn’t know you’d been so deprived from a man’s touch. You craved some kind of sexual interaction. Didn’t know he relieved so much of the pent up stress from work and being a single mother.

“Any time beautiful.” He panted but managed to keep a smile on his handsome face. He pulled out looking for something, anything to help clean you up. When his eyes landed on you, you pointed to the front seat.

“Got a few baby wipes in the glove compartment.”

He nodded. You watched as he climbed out zippering his pants as his head fell back. Taking in the cool night breeze. God he was something to behold. Walking around the front he took out the pack of wipes and jogged back to you.

“Does anything hurt? Are you alright?” He asked back to his monotone as he wiped your thighs and intimate parts.

“I’m alright.”

“Think you can walk?” he shimmied your sweats back up, shoving something in the pocket. Before you could even answer he pulled you to the edge of the car by your legs making you yelp. He held you like a bride before placing you in the driver seat.

“Hope so.” You said quietly. His hand grabbed the back of your head through the window pulling you in a kiss. Long and passionate. If you knew anything it was that this man was gonna be the death of you. You felt yourself getting wet all over again.

“G’night…officer Nanami.” You looked deeply in his eyes.

“Get home safe.” He didn’t smile or break the contact. He climbed back in his car shutting off the lights and starting his car back up. Digging in your pocket you pulled out his business card that had his number written neatly in blue pen on the backside. Your mouth gaped open and looked out your window as he was passing you. Driving slow he seen the card in your hand and winked at you. That shit eating grin back on his lips.

Staring daggers back at the card you wondered how long you were really out for.

[world0fmadness]

THE RIVER RUNS RED

conrad “ cronos ” lant x reader

♡ general period comfort headcanons for cronos!

୨୧ this is kind of shorter than most of my other stuff but i’m basically writing this for myself right now, i’m in need of some comfort so i figured i’d write for my favourite fellow british person <3

♡ view my metal masterlists here and here

reading music recommendations: welcome to hell by venom - hollywood main theme by rik schaffer

♡ to be honest, i can see him making a lot of kind of childish jokes when it comes to your period…

୨୧ at first you don’t mind too much but you definitely get bored of them after two days

♡ and once he sees how bad periods really are for you, he quits the shit pretty quickly and wisens up

୨୧ he’s probably not great at comforting you but he definitely tries his best for you

♡ he tells you that actually you’re pretty fucking awesome for being able to like, shed your insides and how he thinks it’s insanely cool you bleed so heavily for seven days and don’t drop dead

୨୧ yeah, definitely not the best at offering comfort but he really tries…

♡ he’s much better at physical comfort than he is verbal comfort!

୨୧ oh you wanna cuddle up in bed because you have cramps? absolutely, let him big spoon you and trace pentagrams on the skin of your stomach

♡ he’ll really stay in bed with you all day if you want to! he’ll cancel any plans he might have, telling friends that something just came up

୨୧ if you want a hot drink or hot water bottle made, he’ll place a kiss on your head before climbing out of bed and going to make it for you

“ y’want a hot chocolate, honey? or maybe some tea? ‘kay, i’ll go make you one, be back in a bit ” ( i just know he makes a killer tea, and hot chocolate! he probably puts whipped cream and marshmallows on top of the hot chocolate, really spoiling his lady )

♡ i can see him having a major sweet tooth so if you ever crave sweets or chocolate, he’s on it in a flash and buying you way more candy than you really need

୨୧ he ends up eating almost all of them himself, shovelling huge handfuls of small sweets into his mouth as you giggle next to him, he’ll shoot you a wink and smirk as he attempts to chew them all

♡ cronos is absolutely the type of guy to ask what size pussy you have when you ask him to go and buy you some pads…

୨୧ he’s also extremely confused when you tell him to get the ones with wings! but he doesn’t mention that, he just nods his head with squinted eyes, silently trying to decide if you’re fucking with him or not

♡ he comes back from the store with WAY too many packets of pads, all different types too…

୨୧ like, he bought enough to last you nearly a year, claiming he just didn’t really know how many you’d need

♡ if you ever bleed through your pants in public, he’s very gentle with you and doesn’t make a huge fuss, he absolutely does not want to draw attention to you

୨୧ he’d just come up behind you and tie his leather jacket around your waist, softly whispering in your ear why he’s doing it

“ you’ve got some blood on your pants, honey… ‘s okay, it’s covered, wasn’t too much ” ( for once, you’re thankful he was ogling your ass and noticed the crimson stain )

♡ and if you get pretty bad leg cramps when out and about, he’ll gladly give you a piggy back home!

୨୧ he probably tries to carry you bridal style first but realises very quickly he isn’t as strong as he thinks and it just isn’t super comfy for you

♡ he keeps a pack of painkillers on him at all times for you, everywhere you guys go together he’ll have a pack of them in the pockets of his leather jacket

୨୧ they’ve come in handy many times and he’s always so smug about it, telling you he’s just so smart and so thoughtful before you shove his shoulder and laugh

♡ another thing cronos is actually really good at doing for you when you’re on your period is running you baths!

୨୧ if you mention to him that you feel gross and sticky and really just want to bathe, he’ll tell you to sit back and relax whilst he goes to prepare a bath for you

♡ he goes all fucking out, lighting cute little tea lights around the bathroom, pouring in ( way too much ) bubble bath, laying out the nicest and softest towels on the radiator so that they’re warm for you when you get out…

୨୧ he definitely sits by your side when you’re in the bath too, unless you don’t want him to! he’ll just sit on the closed toilet lid and smoke a cigarette or read a magazine whilst chatting with you, coming over to wash your hair for you

♡ i can see cronos having no problem with letting you wear his boxers around the apartment! sometimes everything else is just too uncomfortable but you don’t want to walk around the apartment in just panties so he’ll offer up his boxer briefs

୨୧ they’re pretty big and comfortably oversized on you, perfect for period clothes

♡ if you get a little horny on your period, he’ll be all over that… he has no problem getting a little messy but i won’t go into that right now hehe <3

[fanfic-recs-01]

Batfam Fics

This is pretty much just all the Damian Wayne/Jon Kent and Jason Todd/Roy Harper fics I like on Ao3

Jayroy

AO3 is Flooded With Arsenal/Jason Todd and It's All Your Fault by xxELF21xx 

~The Internet has a new favourite ship, Jason and Roy watch the world burn.~

ladies and gentlemen will you please stand by bittlebarnes (monroesherlock)Fandoms:

~“Roy and I are getting married,” Jason blurts, and it’s like the entire room stops.

Dick reaches over to slap Bruce on the back because he’s fucking choking on his dinner, but Bruce waves him off and finally swallows.

“What ? Jason, no, you’re not. Why would you say something like that?”~

If your real dad isn't present store bought is fine by Here_we_go

~“Daddy!” the voice screams and suddenly something collides with Jason’s legs. He looks down, it’s a child, black hair, brown eyes, tiny little overalls and a tiny little backpack. She’s clinging to his legs and she’s definitely talking to him.

What the shit?

“See?" She shouts pointing, "My daddy's here now and he's going to fuck you up!"~

Lies That Were Never Told by evilly_laughing

~“You’re the straight brother.”“Oh?” Well that’s news to Jason, a very queer individual with a boyfriend.~

Things My Heart Used to Know by poisonivory

~Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne's beloved adopted son, was kidnapped when he was fifteen. He was never found. Six years later, Roy Harper runs across a very familiar face, three thousand miles from Gotham. "Jay" has no last name, no memory, and no reason to believe he's a potential heir to Gotham's largest fortune. But with Bruce Wayne offering a five million dollar reward to anyone who can bring his son home, Roy and Jay figure it might be worth teaming up to claim the money, even if Jay is only a fraud.~

Call Roy by Rulerofyouall

~Jason gets shot while helping the Bats on a mission. He asks them to call Roy before passing out, and the Batfamily learns that their relationship is a bit closer than any of them had thought.~

i'm done with this heartache, i'm done with the demons, can't wait to be normal, right after this weekend by tommyshepherdd (gaysupersoldiers)

~As he loomed over Jason’s bed, trying to figure out his course of action, Roy opened his eyes. He immediately went wide eyed and attempted to shrink away from him. “I expect to see you at breakfast.” Bruce told him solemnly, turning on one heel to leave dramatically.~

Daddy Daddy (If You Could Only See) by poisonivory

~Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen are two of the wealthiest and most famous men in the country - and oh yeah, they hate each other. Their sons, Jason Todd and Roy Harper, are the black sheep of their respective families and tabloid darlings. But when Roy suggests they pretend to date to stir up the paparazzi and piss off their dads, he doesn't expect himself to start falling for Jason for real.~

Damijon

About Last Night by desolationofzara

~Damian groaned miserably and ran his hand down his face. Something cool slid against his skin in contrast to his warm hand. Damian forced himself to open his eyes and he blinked blearily up at his hand. There was a simple silver band with a line of tiny sapphires going all the way around it."When the hell did I ever own this ring?" Damian thought, closing his eyes and massaging his throbbing temples~

'Cause I Made My Mind Up You're Going to Be Mine by poisonivory

~Jon’s heart started pounding so hard he would have been concerned if he’d heard it in a regular human’s chest. “Are you saying that you’ve been courting me?”Damian’s brow furrowed. “Yes, obviously.” “Obviously?” Jon echoed. “When did...how? What was the courtship part?” And how had he missed it? This was so unfair.~

It Wouldn't Be Make Believe (If You Believed In Me) by poisonivory

~When Damian traces the source of a lethal new party drug to Metropolis University, it only makes sense to go undercover as a student to ferret out the culprits. He doesn't expect to run into Met U student Jon Kent, and he definitely doesn't expect to get mistaken for Jon's boyfriend. But hey, what harm could it do to play along?~

Dami... an Wayne? by Lizabeth_Shabow

~Jon's friends try to figure out who his secret boyfriend is.~

#SoftRobin by mistolez

~Damian is unexpectedly left alone in Gotham for a month as the rest of the batfamily are busy elsewhere. It is during this time that Gotham gets to know and fall in love with their youngest vigilante (and a hero from Metropolis too, urgh).~

Misc. 

Uh, Batman? That’s Rā’s al Ghûl by Taxi_Cab_To_Slowtown 

~“I propose the League have a family day here at the Watchtower this weekend. Open to all the families of our heroes who know their identities and who you are willing to introduce to the rest of the team. It’ll be to encourage team bonding and to allow stronger relationships to be formed between the League member’s families.” The Justice League were going to get more than they bargained for.~

[mondaychildsworld]

I know the end

Previous chapter / Next chapter

Part Six / ?

Rating: E

Word Count: 4.3k

Chapter summary: As you're captured, locked up and get severely hurt, Joel and Ellie is closing in on your tracks. There's thin line between life and death, but somehow the unimaginable happens and you can soon put this behind you. (happy end I promise)

Warnings: This is my worst chapter I've written. So if you don't vibe with any kind of violence, torture, blood and being treated very badly this is you que to skip this chapter. TW: violence, threats, getting burnt, blood, slight insinuation of SA (we're good tho), just straight up torture.

A/N: I'M SO SORRY for this chapter. I feel HORRIBLE for putting my character through this much pain. But she will be ok. It will be ok in the end. I would never end this story on a bad note. But this world is not a nice place to live in either, so it would be hard to write a dystopian story with just fluff and happiness because that's not realistic. But I promiiiiiise you some feelings and smut in the next one very soon to make it up to you. Like... in a couple of days 🤭

And here’s my tiny taglist: @boofy1998 @orcasoul

December 5th, 2023

It’s cold. And hard. Your fingertips trace the surface you’re laying on before you open your eyes. When there’s a big snort in the distance. The sound is not human. You open your eyes in panic. The first thing you see is the ceiling. You quickly sit up and look around. You’re in a stable. 

You stand and peek through the bars surrounding the top part of the stall. Opposite of you are kind eyes and the soft nose of a horse. You relax. 

“Hi there buddy.” you say and you try to open the stall door. Locked. “We’re both locked up in here I guess?”

The horse keeps staring at you, their new neighbor. On the door to his stall is a nameplate, someone had carved “Tucker” in the wood. After greeting your companion and having a look around your stall you try to kick the door open, to see if you can break the lock. 

You sigh when the lock doesn’t give up and start circling around the small room. You got captured, hit in the head and locked up. Great. Now you need to figure out how to get the hell out of here. 

The horse suddenly gives off a fussy neigh. He draws his ears back at the exact moment a door down the hallway bursts open. You curl up in the corner of the stall and hope that they’re not here for you. You hear footsteps approaching and stop right outside your stall.

“Well, well, well…” you hear the man’s voice say. “Look who’s awake.”

You hear a laugh. There must be two men. You nervously glance up and see two faces outside of the metallic bars. You recognize them from before.

“I told you I didn’t want to disturb you” you try, but you can see on their faces that they won’t accept your weak attempts of talking your way out of this. 

“I didn’t want to disturb you” the guy to the left, the one with a dark blue beanie mimics you. He clearly wants to make fun of you and the other one laughs. 

“Tell us why the fuck you’re out here sneaking up on us and where your group of people are.”

“I’m alone, I don’t have anyone.” you try. It is true. You were alone. But it still feels like you’re lying. 

“Yeah, no one’s gonna believe that.” the one to the right tells you. He was the one to slam the butt of the rifle in your head. He’s blonde and has a long beard. “You better give us better answers or you’ll soon regret not cooperating with us.”

“I’m telling you the truth, I got here alone.”

“Bullshit.”

“A pretty girl like you wouldn’t make it out there all by yourself.”

You frown and feel nauseous at the fact that he called you that, it certainly was not meant as a compliment.

“Alright, I’m gonna tell you…” you start, and you do gain their attention because they’re suddenly listening carefully to what you have to say. “To… go fuck yourselves.”

Their hopeful expression falters. The guy with the beanie kicks the wooden door of the stall. You’re kind of happy that you got them like that, but you’re scared at the same time. You try your best not to show it.

“If you wanna play with us, pretty girl, let’s play.” the bearded man says and they leave the stable. 

You still hear them talking outside for a while. There’s a crackling noise, footsteps, and a clunking noise of metal. You hug your legs even tighter to your chest. You can’t help but shake, from the cold or from fear, you can’t tell. 

When you hear the men walking down the hallway of the stable again it’s like you can sense that something's wrong. It’s something in the breeze of winter air flowing inside of the building, like it’s trying to warn you. A chill goes down your spine. 

There’s more men this time. The one from before, the guy with the blue beanie unlocks your stall and walks inside. He’s closely followed by two other men you don’t immediately recognise. They roughly tug you away from your safe corner and pin you to the ground. 

You try to fight yourself free but they’re three, and strong. Way stronger than you. 

“Pretty girl, are you cold?” the guy with the blonde beard appears by the stall door. 

“Fuck you!” you yell at him and squirm. You caught yourself thinking if this is what you think is about to happen you’d rather be dead but when you see the item in your hand, and you’re filled with an even bigger fear. 

When he takes a step into the stall you see the glowing iron in his hand. It’s an old forging tool, all bent and broken, but glowing hot. 

“You have a choice, tell me the truth about why you were sneaking around our farm or… you’ll get a little bit hot.” he smirks down at you. 

“I was j-just passing b-by.” you cry out. “I was just l-looking for a hiding s-spot for the night.” 

You’re hyperventilating by now. The tears are streaming down your face. 

“Hiding from what, sweet thing?” he asks again. 

You don’t know what to answer. You didn’t hide from anything specific. Maybe Joel and Ellie, maybe from raiders and infected, but maybe just as much from yourself. From whatever future you had. By the looks of it now, that future seemed incredibly short. 

“N-nothing.” you sob. 

”Not the right answer!” he yells at you and nods towards one of his men. He reached over you and tore your shirt open. The buttons rip off and you hear them fall to the ground.

“Let’s see how pretty you are after this” the blonde man says and leans down towards you, with the glowing iron in hand. 

You squeeze your eyes shut and brace yourself for what is about to come.

Afterwards, they had left you all alone on the ground with burn marks covering your upper body. You were still in shock. You did your best not to look, but cried while you tried to button up your shirt again. It was ruined. You were ruined. It was all about survival now. 

As soon as you gained some sort of normal awareness back you started planning your escape. By sunrise you were ready. You were hurting too much to sleep anyway.

There was a small window at the top of the wall, close to the ceiling. The metallic bars were too high to climb and squeeze over, but you could maybe fit through the window.

Your problem was to get yourself up there. But you had time to think and look around. There was a bridle on a hook on the door to the horse’s stall, and a broom standing close to yours. If you could reach the broom, you might be able to reach the bridle, throw it up to the old handle on the window, drag yourself up and push the window out. After that you’d get back inside, take Tucker and leave on horseback. 

You set your plan to work and you were determined to get out of this hell hole. The pain was almost unbearable, as you had to put your arm between the bars, shove yourself closer and lean all your weight onto your upper body to reach the broom. 

You gasped loudly as your fingers brushed the broomstick. The movement hurt too much. You had to pause and recollect yourself a couple of times before you successfully reached the broom.

“Yes!” you mumbled to yourself. 

A couple of minutes of trying to wind down and you were ready. You stuck the broom out from your stall, holding the brush part. Tucker jerked back when you reached the broom towards his stall. He nervously stamped around and let out a dull neigh. 

“Sssh sweet boy.” you hushed the horse. “Don’t you worry Tucker, I’m getting you out of here.”

You catched the bridle with the broomstick and sighed in relief. Tucker neighed once more, louder this time. You flinched and hushed him again. You don’t want to get caught, so you’d need to hurry. 

You threw the bridle up high towards the knob at the window frame. You had to throw it a few times before it stuck. 

You took the brindle and put your foot inside of the loop. After a deep breath you braced yourself and pushed yourself up. There was a shooting pain in your whole body from the strain of the movement. 

Just as you pushed the window open Tucker neighed once more and reared. 

“No, no, no, Tucker!” You try to calm him. 

Meanwhile you had your leg swung up and almost outside of the window, the door bursts open and you hear rushed steps. You hurriedly try to crawl out from the window.

“She’s escaping!” someone yells. 

A couple of seconds later, when you’re halfway through the window someone takes a forceful grip on your pants and shoves you back down on the floor. Your ankle is stuck in the bridle. You feel your foot twist and there’s a sudden pain in your ankle. As you hit the floor with your head first there's also a sharp pain in your jaw. It makes you dizzy. 

A painful gasp escapes from your mouth and when you look up, the stall is filled with men once again. You don’t really see who is who, it’s more like dark shadows towering over you. But when your eyes can focus you see one thing, the blonde beard that belongs to the man who burned you. 

“If you only cooperated from the beginning you could’ve had a nice life you know.”

He continues. You spit blood. 

“It’s too late now. If you were a good girl I might’ve decided to keep you.” he says and laughs in your face. “But now, no man alive would even want to touch you with a ten foot pole, not that you’ll leave this stable alive anyway.”

“Mmh…” You sigh, and try again. “Mmhf, f-fuck you.”

“You fucking whore.” He said furiously. That’s the last thing you hear until you feel the harsh pain of a kick in your stomach. Right at your burns. You can almost recall thinking, this is the end, as you once again drift off to unconsciousness. 

“She can’t have gotten too far on foot, right?” Ellie asks. Joel just hums in response. He hasn’t been feeling up to be chatty with Ellie since you left. There is just a dreary cloud hanging over him these last couple of days.

“Why did she leave, anyway?” Ellie asks again. He decides not to respond at all. “Or like, would you guess why?”

He sighs.

“I just hoped she would’ve said goodbye.” she says and looks out through the car window.

“Me too kid.” he mutters.

When he noticed that you had left he had packed up all the things in the truck and went out to look for you. Ellie had found traces in the snow, and they guessed you followed the road up north. So they stopped every few times to check abandoned buildings for any sign of you. 

They figured you didn’t stay too far off from the road, because they did find evidence of someone staying in sheds, caves in the forest or other buildings they found along the way. You had hidden the tracks after yourself pretty well. But Joel was experienced. He didn’t know much about your time before the QZ, but he had lived out there as a raider. So he did know a thing or two.

And you definitely had left a thing or two behind. You were good, he had to admit. But there were remains of a fire you didn’t have time to put out, for whatever reason. In one of the buildings he found an empty can of food you had brought with you. He knew, because the can wasn’t covered by dust and he was the one who found that specific brand the last time they stocked up. 

It was getting late, and it was time for their last stop for the day. He parked the car close to the road, but well hidden just in case anyone drove by. They hadn’t met even one person or infected for a long time, but he didn’t want to risk it.

“Cabin over there?” Ellie points it out through the trees and raises her eyebrows at him. He just nods and they start walking towards the little timber building.

Someone definitely had been there and left in a hurry. There’s signs of a fire someone tried to put out, very sloppily. As they quickly had to get up and leave. Beside the fire lies the insides of a small animal, rabbit, he guesses. 

He has a bad feeling about this, but enters the cabin anyway, You could be inside of there, hiding. He swings the door open, rifle ready to shoot anyone who isn’t you. But it’s quiet and still. The room is a big mess, practically trashed. He lowers the gun and sighs. Fuck. He hopes this trouble isn’t your trouble, in that case the hope of finding you okay just drastically declined. 

“Woah, look at this Joel!” Ellie exclaims from above. He confusedly looks around and finds her on the edge of a loft. He completely missed it. And he completely missed her climbing up there.

“Who told you to go up there?” he snaps at her.

“It’s her,” she just says and lifts her hand up. She holds a blue book. “She was here.”

She tosses the book down to Joel, and he catches it. Quickly he flips through the pages. It’s a notebook. A diary, dated from before the outbreak. Soon he reaches the last written page, dated to this year. He starts to read.

You had signed off with your name. This was proof. You had been in this very cabin, very recently. You can’t be too far away now.

December 6th, 2023

Maybe this is what it’s like to be dead. You always thought life after death would be like floating on a warm, soft cloud. Content. Calm. Together with your loved ones that you lost. With Julie. But this is cold, and hard. Your face feels wrong. Swollen. Misplaced. So maybe you weren’t dead just yet?

Your eyes flutter open and you see the ceiling. The same damn ceiling you saw last time. 

There’s a disappointed knot forming in your stomach. You were severely beaten and went unconscious once again. The concept of time is long lost. It’s hard, not having the energy or will to move your body. 

After some time of drifting in and out of consciousness, you can’t tell for how long, there’s a sound of light footsteps on the other side of the wall. Right outside, the snow crunches slowly. Is this real or a hallucination? Once again, you can’t tell. All you can do is lay in your own pool of blood and wait for the end. Every muscle in your body hurts.

When Tucker lets out a curious snort, you slightly open your eyes. If you convinced yourself you might be alive before, this definitely makes you consider the opposite. There’s a face peeking through the metal bars, a small face belonging to a girl. 

“Ellie?” you mumble and feel the world spinning.

“Oh my…” she looks outright shocked. 

“Are you in heaven?” you quietly ask her. Maybe, just maybe, some sort of higher power sent her here to guide you? So you soon could be reunited with Julie, floating on the softest clouds there could ever be. You don’t believe in god, you never did, but you don’t know how to explain what’s happening to you any other way. 

Ellie’s face disappears for a minute or two, but you can hear her. You just blink up at the ceiling trying the grasp what the fuck is happening right now. The door slides open and Ellie is quickly by your side. She drops the heavy padlock to the floor. 

“Stay with me.” she shakes you carefully. You open your eyes even more and try your best to look directly at her. “Let’s get out of here.”

She carefully pulls you up to your feet, quickly slides and arm around your waist and starts walking. You limp. As you leave the stall you glance back, and see a pool of blood on the floor and immediately feel nauseous. 

When the both of you are outside you’re blinded by the sharp light. The white snow burns in your eyes. A couple of steps later you find Joel in the hallway of the main building. The door is open and you see him holding a man down to the floor. There’s something wrong with your vision, it’s doubled and it’s hard to focus. There’s blotches of red in the snow, on the floor, on his hands. 

“Where is she!!!” he yells a few inches away from the man's face as he shakes the guy beneath him. He holds the man’s collar with an iron fist. The whole world spins around, you’re dizzy, but you know what you see. It’s him, it’s Joel. 

Ellie shouts after him but he doesn’t hear her immediately. He punches the man in the face a few times before he jerks his head up and locks eyes with you. He leaves the man on the floor and rushes up to you. He pulls you in tightly, but you don’t have the energy to respond to his embrace. Your entire body is limp. There’s no strength left.

“What the fuck did they do to you?” He mumbles as he breaks away for the embrace to look you over. Your shirt is ripped open in some places, burn marks peeking through the tears of fabric. Your face… however it did look like now -  probably just as horrible as it felt.

You try to speak, but your brain and your tongue aren't cooperating. You try to answer him, but all you get out of your mouth is an incoherent mumble. He looks back down with worried eyes, looking straight into yours. You try to hold his gaze but it’s impossible. 

It feels like someone dims the sun down, like the sun is an old light bulb that flickers out into darkness. You’re exhausted. There’s arms firmly grabbing you, holding you up. You blink a few times and feel that you’re being lifted up as you’re drifting off into the quiet darkness. 

December 8th, 2023

When you wake up you’re surprised you find yourself in a bed, and not on the cold floor of the stable. You’re covered with blankets, not by dirt in the pool of your own blood. You smack your mouth a couple of times. It’s still dry. 

“He-hello?” you manage so get out. The room is dark. You find a source of light, and try to focus your eyes. The light comes from a gap in the door. 

You slowly sit up a bit so you’re leaning back your weight on your elbows. You clear your throat.

“Hello?” you croak, a little bit louder this time. 

You hear footsteps right outside. The door creaks open and you see the silhouette of a girl. You blink a few times and fall back into the pillow. It’s Ellie.

“Hi, you’re awake?” she asks. 

“Mhm, could you…” you need to pause to cough. “Water, please.”

“Sure, of course.” she leaves the room and soon comes back with a bottle of water. She screws the cap open and helps you take a sip. 

Water has never tasted this good. Ellie sits down on the edge of the bed and helps you dry off the drop of water that escaped down your chin. 

”Sorry.” you mumble. ”What time is it?”

“I don’t know, late.” she just looks at you, like you’re fragile. 

“Where… where are we?” the last memory you have is a blurry mix of snow, blood covered knuckles and large arms carrying you away from the stable. “Where’s Joel?”

“He’s out, he keeps guard of the house. We’re safe but you know, he’s stubborn like that.” she nods and you roll your eyes. You know. 

“We’re at this house, I think this place is called Cora. I found it on the map.” she presses her lips together before she continues. “It’s late, you should sleep.”

You don’t know where Cora is, and you don’t get the chance to ask. She puts the bottle down on the little nightstand next to the bed. She leaves the room and shuts the door, but leaves a small gap. 

“I’m right outside, just tell me if you need anything.”

“Okay.”

You can’t sleep. You lay there bright awake until the sun comes up. If you could, you’d heave your legs over the bed, put on your shoes and sneak right past Ellie and find Joel. But your body hurts too much, so you stay. 

It feels weird being safely tucked in on a real bed. Guarded by the people you left. You’re safe, out of harm’s reach. There’s a pang of guilt in your chest. You don’t deserve this. You really thought that stall in the stable would be the last thing you’d see. That you’d soon be reunited with Julie when you saw the pool of your own blood grow beneath you. You tear up a bit at the thought. This wasn’t how it was going to end. You have mixed feelings about it all. 

After a few sleepless hours on your own you hear mumbling on the other side of the door. After a minute or two, Ellie enters the room. She brought soup. 

“Oh wow, this is way too fancy for me.” you joke a bit and heave yourself up to a sitting position in the bed. You try to accept the tin can but Ellie insists on helping you eat. Classic chicken noodle soup. It tastes delicious. 

“This is all we have for today,” she says apologetically. “Sorry… you must be hungry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” you say and while you give her half a smile someone leans their shoulder against the doorframe, arms crossed. You look up and see Joel. You stiffen a bit and your eyes lock with his. 

“Hi” you say, voice raspy. 

“Hi” he sighs back, worriedly. 

There’s silence for a couple of seconds. There’s so much tension in the air that Ellie has to sense that something must be wrong if you two stay quiet for longer. So you’re the one to speak up, when he doesn’t. 

“I’m fine, I’m okay” you tell him, you don’t know who you’re trying to convince. Joel or yourself. He’s not convinced, the worried look stays on his face.

“Sure” he looks at you straight faced. He doesn’t believe a word you say. You see it in the way his brows furrow and that line between them becomes even more visible. So you opt for a different take.

“How did you know I was there?” you ask. Ellie is quick to answer, and explains that they traced your tracks in the snow and found some of your belongings scattered in the forest. They knew no animal or infected could be behind all that. 

“I told her to stay back but apparently someone doesn’t listen to orders.” He shoots Ellie an accusing glare. He’s not entirely happy with her. 

“Will you please remind me again, who found her?” Ellie argues back. “Who got her out? Without causing any trouble?”

She was right. She was the one who picked the lock and quietly got you out while Joel was outside creating chaos. But Joel doesn’t seem to be too impressed with Ellie’s rescue mission.

“Hey, what if you were hurt?” he’s visibly upset. “What would I tell Marlene then? Oh, yeah, ‘that girl you told me to drag over half the country got herself killed’?”

Ellie gives him a glare and a second later, storms out muttering something you can’t hear. 

“Not too far!” Joel yells after her. He gets an annoyed ‘I know’ back. 

So you’re back to silence. You sit in your bed, fiddling with the hem of the blanket, nervously biting the inside of your cheek. After a minute of Joel just standing there looking at you worriedly, he finally sits down on the bed next to your legs. 

“Did you kill them?” you ask after a while and nervously look up at him. He keeps his gaze down towards the floor. 

He doesn’t answer straight away. He hesitates for a couple of seconds before he clears his throat and finally speaks to you. 

“That’s not important.”

“Did you or did you not?”

“I did.” He's now facing you, instead of studying the flecks of dirt on his shoes. “I don’t know about them all, but I would be surprised if more than one or two got out of there in one piece.”

“I’m sorry if that bothers you.” he adds after a couple of seconds of silence. 

“It doesn’t.” you answer quickly. You think for a second and then add, “I’m glad.”

He just looks at you, a bit oddly and squints a bit. Like he doesn’t believe you. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” he just says calmly, back to his usual stone face expression and gets up from the bed and leaves the room.When he comes back he has brought some warm water and a cloth. He cleans your burns and dabs your swollen face with the damp cloth. The piece of fabric is stained red. You flinch at every touch. But you will be okay.

[parthenosvenus]

hold my hand; there’s no need to be brave

2k words / pairing: steve harrington x eddie munson

Summary:

Despite the tremors, Eddie’s heart and the skin under Steve’s touch are the only parts of him that feel alive right now. “But-“

“Man, shut up,” his boyfriend reprimands, and slowly takes Eddie’s rings off. This, being Steve Harrington’s loved one, was another thing that definitely didn’t go as Eddie Munson planned. But it’s something he can’t lament. “Can’t you see the cuts on your hands? The rings.. they could cause an infection, you know.” So Steve decides to wear them, still stained with blood.

or, Eddie returns from a solo adventure in the Upside Down and finds Steve ready to take care of him

(read under cut)

It’s already dark outside when he comes back, chilly wind making the sweat and blood stick to his neck, his cheeks, from shoulders to fingertips. He hadn’t planned to venture into the depths of the Upside Down as long as he did. But things never go as Eddie Munson plans, do they? 

He begins to trail his way back home, with a clouded mind that somehow is simultaneously moving fast. In hindsight, what he did was incredibly fucking stupid. Is he being melodramatic? His wounds aren’t deep, he isn’t going to die; but hell, he could have. Again.

But Eddie had to go there alone; he couldn’t put everyone else in danger for some supernatural hunch after they quite literally went to hell and back to help him. He figures that at least his intuition was strengthened, even if slightly. 

So, not really thinking about anything, he walks along the path that will lead him to the back of the house, focusing on the vapor coming out of his mouth and avoiding the streets as if contaminated. 

Though the woods aren’t safe nor silent: branches creak around him, nocturnal wings flap from tree to tree, and he is probably being followed by something fast and with fangs. He should be terrified, but the prospect of a pack of wild animals smelling Eddie’s traces and hunting him down is better than anyone in Hawkins seeing him with blood on his hands. That’s a fate worse than death, he’s learned that much. 

Halfway through, while fighting with his torch and trying to avoid getting hit by every branch around him, he hears his name: at first it sounds like a phantom voice being carried by the wind, but as he steps forward it becomes clearer and clearer that Dustin and the others have been out looking for him. He runs towards the voices, yelling hellos with a knot pinned in his throat. Shit, he thought they wouldn’t notice if he disappeared for a few hours. They shouldn’t worry about him. Dustin should not be wandering around past 7 PM, whether Steve is present or not. And Steve…

His thoughts are cut off when he meets their faces and his eyes immediately rest on the man in his thoughts, yet Eddie doesn’t get the time to acknowledge the look of displeasure on Steve’s face because Dustin runs to him, yelling angry “what the fuck!”, “why didn’t you say anything!” and “next time I’m coming with you!” as if he and the others would ever let that happen. 

“You are an idiot stupid man. Not surprising, actually, but what the fuck is wrong with you? Are you okay?” Robin asks. 

“Nothing that a few bandages and a night of sleep can’t fix.” He nods. 

He didn’t know comfort and guilt could merge into a feeling, but they can, and it’s what fills his heart when they all start walking together. Robin keeps cursing at him while Dustin pesters him with questions about his solo adventure. Steve, however, stares. He stares at the space between them and he stares when Eddie tells Dustin to save the interrogation for tomorrow; he stares when, feeling itchy, Eddie removes his bloody curls away from his neck. 

After those first minutes of chaos, the house - Steve’s house - can be seen in the distance, and the chatty pair decides to give up and leave him and Steve a few steps behind. 

Only their feet on the leaves can be heard for a while, but they slowly move closer and closer, until Steve attempts to take his hand. At that moment, Eddie realizes he’s been shivering, from head to toe and probably for a long time, too. 

The contact lasts a split second, because Eddie breaks it as soon as he remembers the blood on his skin, but it’s enough to remind him that he has a body and that it’s been traumatized. To make things worse, his heart drops in his chest when the eyes looking at him grow bigger with disappointment for a moment. 

If there’s something he hates recently it’s disappointing Steve. “You’re wearing a new sweater. It’ll get dirty.” He explains, both trembling hands now against his chest, cupping Steve’s lingering heat on his fingers. 

Steve sighs and runs a hand through his hair, stepping closer. “Don’t be stupid.” He takes Eddie’s wrists and slides his hands along his palms and fingers to unfold his fists completely, careful not to rub too hard. 

Despite the tremors, Eddie’s heart and the skin under Steve’s touch are the only parts of him that feel alive right now. “But-“ 

“Man, shut up,” his boyfriend reprimands, and slowly takes Eddie’s rings off. This, being Steve Harrington’s loved one, was another thing that definitely didn’t go as Eddie Munson planned. But it’s something he can’t lament. “Can’t you see the cuts on your hands? The rings.. they could cause an infection, you know.” So Steve decides to wear them, still stained with blood.

Staring at them, their connected hands, something else inside him unfolds. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

“What the hell are you sorry for?” Steve asks, looking genuinely confused, if his raised shoulders and lifted eyebrows are anything to go by.

Eddie isn’t sorry for the rings, though he should have probably kept them at home; but it’s not that. “Look, your sleeves are ruined now.” A shaky cloud of visible air escapes his mouth. He’s cold. And he’s not sorry for the sleeves either, not really. 

He’s sorry for worrying them all, worrying him, and sorry for achieving very little during his quest. Most of all, he’s sorry for still being scared.

As if his thoughts were voiced, as if Steve knows what he needs the most right now, he pulls Eddie in his arms, making sure his sweater becomes unusable forever. 

It’s warm, ever so warm, and Eddie stands there unresponsive for a few seconds, feeling Steve’s palms burn against his neck, his cheeks, from shoulders to fingertips. “Just stop worrying about my goddamn clothes!” The words almost cried out in Eddie’s ear as a desperate demand.

It’s a plea he cannot ignore, be it for the sound of Steve’s voice or Eddie’s exhaustion, so he uses his remaining energy to throw his arms around Steve and holds, clutches, claws at the fabric. Breathes in, breathes out. His legs take the shape of liquid, and he could crumble and fall onto his knees were it not for the entanglement of limbs. 

He’s reminded of the strings he broke a few weeks ago by gripping his guitar’s neck too tight in a moment of frustration. But Steve’s back is sturdier, it stays, it’s warm. It doesn’t make a sound except for the heartbeat he can feel pounding under the layer. 

And of course he gets an earful about his recklessness, but it comes as sweetly as an I love you. And the words ‘you don’t have to do things alone’ repeated between every few reprimands are the perfect companion to the hand in his hair. The rings are entangled in the curls but neither of them care. 

He’s made to promise that he will never disappear to go back there alone. It’s not easy to agree to that, but he’s learned that Steve and his crazy bunch of friends will look for him anywhere anyway, so they might as well just go together next time - well, Dustin and the kiddos excluded.

It takes a shout from the aforementioned friends for both of them to hesitantly withdraw their arms. He doesn’t know how long he and Steve would have stayed there if they had minded their business.

But Steve is stubborn and he doesn’t let go of Eddie completely. He keeps an arm around his waist, asserting that Eddie is in no condition to carry on. And perhaps he isn’t, but he’s not his most conscious self right now to realize. 

Once they arrive at their destination, Dustin eyes Steve and tells him to take care of Eddie. 

“I don’t need to-“ he begins to say.

“Yes, you do.” 

“Don’t order me around, Henderson. Of course I’ll take care of him.”

And before Steve can even utter his next words, Robin precedes him: “And I’ll get this guy back home, yes. Let’s go.” She pushes Dustin forward and signs Steve to call her tomorrow and they soon disappear from the couple’s sight. 

Eddie becomes aware of his body resting on Steve wherever it can, and of one of his hands grasping what’s left of the sleeve of his baby blue sweater. 

“C’mon. Let’s get you to bed and medicate your wounds,” Steve says with a gentle smile, ridding Eddie’s face of the sticky hair. He runs a thumb under his eyes and keeps his hand on the cheek. “And clean your pretty face up a bit.”

A few months ago when Eddie was checking out an album, he was struck by lightning as he heard, almost haunting him, you’re in love you’re in love you’re in love you’re in love you’re in love you’re in love. And for the following hour he stared at the posters on his walls with his chest crushing his heart as he recognized his feelings for Steve. 

He thought that was the moment; it couldn’t be deeper than that. But lightning can and does, in fact, strike the same place more than once. 

He tries to stand right on his feet and puts a hand on Steve’s chest, patting and rubbing. “To me, Steve Harrington, you are a light in dark places when all other lights go out.”

The Lord of the Rings fan isn’t given the time to explain the quote that his lips are being kissed, slowly and softly, patiently; but with an eagerness that makes Eddie mad at himself for running after the supernatural when he could have just kissed Steve all day. 

“He cared not that they stood high upon the walls in the sight of many,” Eddie narrates once a little distance is put between them, clinging onto the collar of the sweater, something like a smile finally emerging on his face as he tastes the remaining glimmer of Steve’s lips. 

“What? We’re in the back garden and there’s only - wait, hey!” Steve says after a chuckle from Eddie. He pinches his arm, or rather his sleeve, being conscious of the wounds. “At least let me finish the books before quoting them!” He complains, dragging him inside the house.

♡ ♡ ♡

Steve feels like an idiot for letting today happen, but there’s nothing he can do now other than stare at the man who’s just fallen asleep while his boyfriend was disinfecting his wounds, and put bandages on them. He takes a damp cloth and tries his best to rub Eddie’s face without disturbing his rest, then removes the rings he’s been wearing and cleans them carefully. He places them on the bedside table and stops to stare at the sleeping beauty. 

There won’t be a next time of this, he promises himself. If Eddie comes back from the Upside Down injured ever again, it better be over Steve’s dead body, quite literally.

It scares him, the way Eddie didn’t seem to be aware that his body was hurt, that he was trembling, that he was alive and that being alive means you have a life to protect. Steve grabs his hand and receives a feeble squeeze in return. 

He smiles, giving the injured knuckles one last brush of his fingers. “I’ll come back in a second.” 

He puts Eddie’s clothes in a bag and takes off his sweater, expecting the disaster that it’s become. There’s nothing of the color that was there when he bought it, he will definitely throw it away - maybe baby blue is just not meant for him. Before crumpling it up, his eyes fall on the back of it. He can discern the shape of Eddie's hands on it, and the few rips he made. 

While it’s not rare for Eddie to take matters to the extremes, he had never held onto Steve like that, he ponders while getting into bed. He shifts closer to the body next to him, placing a hand on the abdomen and feeling the square of gauze underneath.

Not that he cares. He presses his forehead against Eddie’s shoulder and stamps his lips on the bare skin. Eddie, who already has it between his hands, could be choking Steve’s heart in them and he would let him; thank him, even.

[noah-moth-cursed-chaos]

Part two of that soulmate au

“You want to… change your emergency contact? It’s been Claire for years-“

“Yep and now I’m changing it, give me the bloody paper.”

It had been a decision made purely out of spite. Purely because after the third or fourth attempt Trilby had made to cut that string, Chris wanted to be sure that at one point or another he’d have to hurt the way Chris was hurting because of him.

Was it childish? Yes. Chris didn’t really care at the time, he’d been through hell and back time after time and never thought he’d meet his soulmate. And the bastard hated him. Hated him enough to hurt them both before he even knew him.

So he figured he could be a little fucking childish.

Of course now, when he came to in a hospital bed, loopy from pain medicine and bandages on most of his body, he really wished he hadn’t changed it. The nice thing about having Claire as his emergency contact was she was very dedicated to the idea of her friends not waking up alone in strange hospitals, dazed, high off medicine, and not fully aware of where they were. And Chris had to admit he’d gotten a bit too used to the comfort of knowing as much as he hated these places at least he wouldn’t be alone.

But he was.

For hours.

Nurses and doctors came in to check on him, explain his situation, what hospital he was in, not that he was comprehending it very well. The pain med high eventually cleared enough that he vaguely recalled the exchange leading to him ending up there.

”Dammit Trilbs I’m just trying to be nice to you, you don’t have to have such a stick up your ass all the time.”

“I do when I’m stuck with you. If I never have to go on another mission with you again I might actually smile for once.”

“Fine. Since you’ve completely made up your mind about me before even trying to get to know me, oh soulmate of mine, I’ll see what strings I can pull to keep us apart.”

“Good. I hope you pull the right ones, and I hope you die out there without me.”

Trilby probably didn’t mean it. Not fully at least. Not the part about Chris dying anyway.

He heard a gentle knock on his door and he glanced over to see a nurse, “Mr.Quinn, how are you feeling?”

“… like shit.”

“Well. That’d definitely make sense given your current circumstances, do you need anything?”

“… did my emergency contact pick up?”

She went quiet a moment.

“No. We’ve uhm-been trying to contact Mr.Railby for a while. He hasn’t responded. We left a few voicemails… do you have anyone else we can try and contact for you?”

“… no.” Chris wasn’t sure why he lied. Maybe he wanted Trilby to feel bad, knowing Chris lied here alone and it was his fault. Even if it wasn’t. Even if it was Chris’ fault for being bitter and petty. “… can you keep trying? That’s. He’s my soulmate.”

“Oh. I see… I’ll keep you updated if we get any response. Maybe he just hasn’t been by the phone?”

“Maybe.” Bullshit. Trilby always kept that dumbass little cellular on him, it was probably the only piece of modern tech he knew how to use. There was a reason Chris gave that number and not Trilby’s house phone. So he’d have to hear it.

And it was the next day, and he woke up alone. Again. And he took a nap. And he woke up-

Black hair caught his attention from the corner of his eye. Trilby was sat in the chair by the bed, staring out the window. It wasn’t a half bad view, rainy as all hell, but not half bad. He wasn’t looking at Chris at all. His hands were cupping that dumb red string. Chris wasn’t enough of a masochist to hope it was the way you cup something you’re scared will get hurt if you let go. His shoulder’s were hunched, and his eyes traced raindrops down the window. Damn those pretty eyes. Making Chris feel bad for this shit. He fucking deserved it, the cunt, but that far away look sure didn’t make it seem like it.

Chris sat in silence for… well he wasn’t sure how long, just watching Trilby as Trilby stubbornly refused to watch the hospital room. Eventually a warm, almost comforting feeling started to well in his chest, and he realized the other had started absentmindedly running his finger over the string.

That was too much.

That sort of tenderness was far too cruel.

Chris cleared his throat, effectively breaking the other from his trance.

Trilby straightened up, instantly untangling the thread from his hands, and his eyes snapped to Chris.

“How long have you been awake?” For a moment he seemed almost embarrassed, just a moment. Chris half thought he’d somehow dreamt it.

“… just a few seconds.” He shrugged, taking his own turn to avoid looking at Trilby.

“… You’re a piece of shit, you know that, Quinn?”

“We really *must* be made for each other then, huh Trilbs?“

Silence. Again.

“I wasn’t being serious when I said I hope you die you know. I certainly wasn’t telling you to go try to.” Trilby finally spoke, “I lost my phone and when I finally found it I had dozens of missed calls about you, from a hospital. Dozens, I thought I’d be asked to come ID a corpse. Why am I even your emergency contact?”

Chris tried to think of an excuse. All the ones he thought up fell short. So he was honest.

“I got pissed off and drunk and wanted to hurt you back. I didn’t even remember I did it until a while after I first woke up in here.”

“… hurt me back? Quinn does this soulmate thing really mean that much to you? It’s bullshit anyway-there’s no way there’s people actually made for each other.”

“Do you have any idea how much of a fucking comfort that string used to be before I met you? To know that even with all my scars and my mental issues and my trauma that still someone-someone out there would want me someday? Me? In all my fucked up-ness. In all the shit you don’t even know about because once again Trilby, you have never taken the time to get to know me. You’ve just decided you hated me and let that color every interaction we’ve had. Did you know I feel it too when you go on your bullshit spurs of trying to sever the damn thing?”

“… I. Didn’t know that. I didn’t know you were aware I’d tried to…”

“I have these-these awful fucking nightmares Trilbs. Where I wake up and I can’t tell what’s real and-well logically I’m not back where I think I am but logic really doesn’t do a whole fuckin lot for me in that moment. The night you tried to yank it off your finger that pain woke me up from one of those nightmares. Do you have any goddamn idea what it’d be like to have a dream like that, and wake up not knowing what’s real, and it feels like someone’s trying to yank your damn heart out of your chest? And then when you’re finally back in reality, you realize you woke up because the one person in the world who’s supposed to be made for you hates you with every fiber of his fucking being? Enough to put himself through pain worse than what you just endured? So yeah, Trilby. I wanted to hurt you back. I kinda hoped if I did die you’d get the voicemail too late or they’d say my name and you’d hang up and hear later. Because you’ve been fuckin torturing me mate, and you didn’t seem to care until you saw me wrapped up like a mummy in a hospital bed.”

“… I’ve been a cunt.” Trilby breathed out.

“No shit.” Chris grumbled, “… guess I’ve been one too. I was willing to die alone to get back at you.”

“… I can’t necessarily do much to make this right. Can I?”

“You can answer a question I guess.”

“What question?”

“Why’d you show up? Why come if you hate me so damn much?” Chris finally turned his attention back to Trilby, his face was unreadable. But his hands were clasped together a bit too tightly.

“… You’re not unbearable all the time, believe it or not. I’ve gotten used to you… it’s. Too quiet without you around actually. Never thought I’d say that-why are you laughing?”

Chris’ cackling didn’t last long, he winced and groaned at the pain it caused, before turning to Trilby with a grin, “So who are you and what type of aliens stole the real Trilbs? Come on. Spit it out. Or are you a demon? I’ll have you know I have extensive experience beating demon ass. However if your ass is as nice as Trilby’s I might-“

“Quinn! What the hell is your problem?!”

[angry-geese]

Can I request nsfw+fluff gojo x fem!reader? (established relationships) Just gojo being horny and needy after weeks not seeing reader due to work. (Uuuu and may I add breeding kink too <3 ) Lmaooo what's wrong with me✋🏻😔 I love your works btw and just take your time💕💕 here *slides a cookie 🍪 *

YESSSS gojo + breeding kink is top tier. i got a little carried away with this one lol

When We Meet Again

Gojo Satoru x Reader

Warnings: shameless smut. oral (fem receiving), creampies, mating press, unprotected sex, fingering, fluff and smut. slight somnophilia (kinda??) fem!reader

Word Count: 3.7k

jjk masterlist

It's well past midnight by the time he gets home.

Save for a single light in the kitchen, the apartment is dark. Leftover pastries sit out on the counter, covered with a bowl to keep bugs from getting to them, alongside your keys, and an empty mug of tea. A grocery list has been stuck to the fridge. A rack of dishes sits beside the sink, drying.

You're not in your usual spot on the couch. He's not surprised. It's late. And though you don't have work in the morning, you were never one to stay up so long. You must have gone to bed already. You might have stayed up had he bothered to tell you he was coming home. But he didn't. His plans changed at the last moment, and not even he knew he'd be back so soon.

He hates being gone this long. He misses sleeping in his own bed. Sometimes he forgets just how cold a bed can be without someone else in it.

The door to your shared room is open. Though it's dark. There's a faint green glow from the alarm clock on the side table. The moon is full enough tonight to provide a bit of light; a pale silver glow fills the room. And there you are, curled up on his side of the bed. In one of his shirts. A black button up that’s a bit too big for you, with sleeves that hang well past your fingertips.

It's not like he can refuse. If he’s getting called out to help, then there's probably not someone who can go in his place. The strongest doesn't really have time to take a vacation. He’s on call 24/7. Between his teaching job at Jujutsu Tech, and the major clans of Jujutsu society constantly demanding his attention, he’s rather short on free time.

It was a tedious job. Not worth his time. Not particularly tough, albeit time consuming. But the previous two sorcerers came back with nothing. And so he was sent out. Cleaning up someone else's mess.

The first week he called every day. The job wasn’t supposed to take any longer than that. Or so you both assumed. As the second rolled through, your calls grew shorter, and less frequent. He found himself frustrated with the lack of contact. It wasn't either of your faults. Your work called for you to be out during the little free time he had. Overtime. When you did have time to call each other, you were often exhausted, and short with him. The distance was putting a strain on your relationship.

The worst part of it all; he couldn't fuck you. And for a man that could go multiple rounds in a day, that was miserable. His love language is touch. Not being able to hold you was… well, miserable.

You don't really know the extent of the effect you have on him.

He's too tired to change, and he showered before he left, so he strips to his boxers and pulls his side of the blankets aside. Tomorrow is laundry day anyway. You always choose Sundays for laundry day, because that's the day before you have to go back to work. There's just enough room between you and the edge of the bed for him to slip in.

When something makes him stop dead in his tracks.

It's your voice. You’re calling out his name. You aren't awake, and though you do sometimes talk in your sleep, tonight is different. When it does happen, it's usually nonsense. Soft, endearing babble that he can't help but listen to. He says your name, softly, but you don't respond. Enough moonlight streams in through the window to see your face. Your brows are knit in concentration—possibly frustration—and sweat beads in your hairline.

Are you having a nightmare?

The bed dips under his weight as he sits, resting a hand on your thigh. Your skin is rather warm, he notes. You roll over onto your side, burying your face in his pillow. He pulls the blankets up, tucking them around your shoulders, as you’ve kicked them down by your feet in your sleep.

There it is again. You say his name, but there's a level of desperation behind it.

There's no denying the wetness between your thighs. You squeeze your thighs together in an unconscious attempt to get some relief. Your breathing is labored.

It's only a moment later that the realization kicks in.

The grin that splits his face can only be described as malicious in nature.

His hand creeps higher on your thigh, nudging the hem of your—his—shirt up. You’re not wearing anything underneath. The sight of your slick cunt is nearly enough to make his cock stand to attention.

His gaze falls to the curve of your hips, just barely illuminated by the moonlight. He likes the light of you in his shirt a little more than he likes to admit. Though he’s never been quiet about how much he appreciates your body.

Your body freezes the moment his thumb grazes across your slit. So does he. You’re so wet. Must be a real nice dream. You roll onto your back, your legs parted slightly. The soft gasps and moans that leave you are like music to his ears. Gojo takes this as an invitation to continue, his hand moving further up your thigh, lazily tracing circles into it.

You must've missed him more than he expected.

Your body registers that someone is touching you before it registers just who is doing such. In your sleepy, dream-ridden state you don't recognize the figure in front of you. In the dim light of the room, you can make out a mess of white hair, and the reflection of dark, round glasses shoved up into his hairline. Gojo’s eyes practically reflect in the dark.

You jolt awake, sitting up. “Jesus christ-”

“‘S just me, Mochi,” he says, though it does little to settle your nerves.

If you weren't awake before, you certainly are now.

“What? You watch people in their sleep now?!” You scold. “‘Toru- you scared the hell out of me!”

You flop back on the bed. The blankets pool around your hips. You reach to pull them back up, finding your bed colder than usual.

"You were calling out my name." He says.

"Oh," you say, and though there's little light in the room, he watches your face flush, "must have been dreaming about you."

“Wanna recreate what you were dreaming?” He asks. Rather smugly, might you add.

You roll your eyes. “Go to sleep.”

"Scoot over then. I'm gonna fall off the bed."

This prompts an evil sounding giggle from you, followed by a: "fall then."

"Alright," he says, rolling over to lay on you, throwing his arm around your waist. You’re effectively pinned under him, as the awkward angle won't allow you any leverage to throw him off. He attacks the exposed part of your neck with kisses, sucking hickeys into the flesh of your neck and shoulders. His hair tickles your skin.

“‘Toru- stop!” You squeal. “Let me go-”

“Not until you apologize,” he says, planting a wet kiss on your jaw.

“Never!”

“Then I guess I won't let you go.”

His arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you flush to his chest. One of his hands finds your own, his fingers lacing with yours. His legs tangle with yours in a way that holds them in place. Worming out of his grip in this position would be a near impossible task.

You suppose there’s worse fates than this.

It would be easier to stay awake if he wasn't so warm. Or if he didn't smell so nice. Or if he wasn't softly rocking your body with each breath he takes. His thumb traces soft circles around your knuckles. Gojo’s breath is warm against your neck, making goosebumps rise along the soft flesh. The steady sound of it is almost enough to lull you to sleep.

"I missed you." You say. Your voice is almost too soft to hear.

“I know.” He says. His arms give your midsection a reaffirming squeeze. “I missed you too.”

“How was work?”

“A shitshow,” he says, leaning to nip at your earlobe, “but I get to come home to you, so it’s not all bad. How’s everything been around here?”

“Quiet.” You say. “Kinda boring without you. I wish you told me you’d be home tonight. I would have done something special.”

“It was a spur of the moment decision.” He says. “I didn't expect to be home so soon either.”

“We should do something tomorrow, then,” you say, “a new ramen place opened up down the street. You know where the old bakery used to be? They leased the place out.”

Gojo hums in response. Ramen sounds nice. Especially now. But he’s too tired and too horny to worry about food. Why have ramen when he has a meal right in front of him? Or a snack, as he often likes to call you. To which you roll your eyes, but there's no denying how he makes you blush.

You take back what you said about finding it easy to sleep. He’s moving around a bit too much for that. Gojo isn't subtle about it either. Nothing about the man is. He foregos subtly in favor of announcing nearly everything he does. Loudly. Who would dare stop him?

But you guess it's part of his charm. His dorky, sappy charm. You’ve kind of signed up for it, so you’re not complaining.

You scoot away from the edge of the bed a bit, thinking he needs more room. Gojo pulls you back to his chest, thinking you’re trying to run away from him.

“Quit squirming.” You hiss.

“Sorry Mochi,” he says, “just tryna get comfortable.”

And he really does mean it. But he’s been gone from you for so long that he's forgotten how nice your body feels against his. A little too nice, he’ll admit. Phone sex is nice, but it's not the same as the real thing. It gets old after a while. His hand doesn't quite compare to yours. Or the real thing. Something hard presses against your thigh from behind.

That's when it clicks. You just smell so nice. Your body is so warm against his. You look so nice in his shirt. Can you really blame him for getting hard?

You aren't sure he knows that you know. You shift a bit. It appears you’re only trying to get comfortable. His grip around your waist loosens, allowing you to settle a bit closer to him. You can't help it if your shirt rides up a bit, exposing the perfect curve of your ass. He prefers you in nothing at all, though the sight of you wearing his clothes is certainly a nice one. Any sight of you is. Gojo is shameless in the way he adores your body.

Once settled, his arms return to your waist. His head falls into the crook of your neck. He’s doing little to hide the tent he sports in his boxers. Maybe he thinks you don't notice. Or maybe he’s trying to ignore it.

“Stop that,” he says.

“I'm not doing anything,” you say, with the same evil giggle as before.

“Why do I not believe you?”

His lips find your neck, sucking a dark mark into your pulsepoint. The sudden sensation of lips on your neck makes you squeal. In your ear he coos every sappy nickname in the book that makes you blush.

You hardly notice as his hand trails lower. Your legs part just enough for him to slip his hand between them. He does nothing but seek out your warmth. Yet.

A familiar tension returns to your stomach. It's not unpleasant.

So that's what he was doing. Not that you’re complaining.

“Missed you, Mochi,” he says, gasping at the wet feeling of your cunt, “missed you so much. You have any clue what it's like being around all those weird old men all day? For days on end, no end in sight?”

It always surprises you just how bad the man can be with words, yet how good he is with his mouth.

His fingers find your clit, drawing lazy circles around the bundle of nerves. Your breath catches in your throat. You can't deny how nice his long fingers feel inside of you.

“Seems like you’ve missed me too.” He says, his breath warm against your ear.

“Whatever you want to think, old man,” you say. Though you have missed him. You always do. But there's some fun to be had by teasing him.

“Old man?!” He sounds genuinely hurt. “Don't be like that. I know you like having me around.”

“Oh really? What makes you think that?”

His fingers move to press into the tight entrance of your cunt, his thumb brushing across your clit. The soft gasp that leaves you is practically music to his ears. To give him credit, he is good with his hands.

“Did you think about me while I was gone,” he coos, “did you touch yourself while you did it? I did. Couldn't keep my mind off this sweet cunt of yours. I think I want a taste.”

Your only response is a soft moan. Heat pools low in your stomach, growing in intensity with each skilled movement of his hand. He moves so you can lay on your back. Your hands find the sheets, holding them in a death grip. Gojo nudges your legs further apart with one of his knees.

The kiss he pulls you into is uncharacteristically soft, and needy. He moans nearly as loud as you when you nibble on his bottom lip, hips lips parting, allowing the strong muscle of your tongue to explore his mouth.

Your hands work to undo the top few buttons of your shirt, exposing your breasts. His free hand comes up to grope appreciatively at your tits. Gojo has never been shy about how much he adores them. Or shy ever, to his credit. You’re his, and he would show you off to the world if you’d let him.

But sometimes he prefers to steal you into his domain, and hold you there. Close. Where you’ll always be at his side. The one place in this universe he can truly promise you’ll be safe.

You hardly notice as his kisses trail down your neck. Down the valley between your breasts. Working the last few buttons of your shirt open with his long fingers. What you do notice is the sudden absence of his hand.

Your legs part to give him room to settle between them. His head rests on your stomach. His warm breath tickles your skin.

"You gonna let me have a taste?" He asks, nipping at your thigh.

You swallow hard, eyes locked on him. Slowly, you nod.

You gasp at the feeling of his warm tongue, licking a stripe from your bellybutton to your mound. He's not touching you where you need him most. And that frustrates you. You buck your hips up towards his mouth, eliciting a soft laugh from him. He can't tease you too long. His cock is painfully hard, leaking against his thigh in his boxers. He can only hold himself back for so long.

You freeze at the feeling of a hot tongue against your clit.

Gojo eats pussy like a starving man, presented with his favorite meal. He does nothing short of savoring you. How you smell, how you taste, how you sound. He's shameless in how he adores this. Gojo moans nearly as loud as you at the taste of your cunt. Sweeter than his favorite dish. Meant to be savored.

You can't deny that he's good with his mouth. His tongue works circles around your clit, drawing gasps and moans from you.

Heat builds in your stomach, drawing you closer to your impending orgasm. One that comes upon you far sooner than expected.

Maybe you’re more pent up than you thought.

Your thighs clench around his head as you cum hard. He lets you ride out your orgasm on his tongue, working you through it with his skilled mouth. He’d stay with his head between your legs forever if you’d let him. Which you don't, as overstimulation soon registers in your lust addled mind, and you shove his head away.

The lower half of his face glistens in the dim light, wet with saliva, and your own slick. He’s far from subtle in the way he licks his lips, or groans at your taste. He may have gotten a bit too excited. It's not unlike him to get carried away. How can he resist a fertile cunt like yours?

“I think you should taste yourself,” he says. His hands move to cup your face as he pulls you into a kiss. You taste yourself on his lips. His hardened cock grinds against his thigh.

“‘Toru-” you whine.

“What's the matter baby?” He coos. “Use your words.”

“Fuck me.” You say. “I need you, ‘Toru. I need your cock in me.”

“Why didn't you say so?” He says, though the desperation in his voice is palpable.

He wastes no time in shoving his boxers down his hips, freeing his cock.

He’s not the most intimidating in size, but his cock is nice, and fairly thick, with a slight upward curve. The patch of hairs towards the base are soft, and white. Generally you don't need a whole lot of prep to take him. Which is helpful when he can't keep his hands to himself, and insists on fucking you in the bathroom during dinner. As much as he likes to take his time with you, he’ll take you anywhere you’ll let him. At work, or over every flat surface of your apartment. Not a single room of your home was spared. Not that either of you mind.

“Gotta work you open first,” he says, “don't want you to be too tight, do we?”

Between his saliva, and your own slick, you put up little resistance. He’s able to slide one finger in. Then a second, with no issue. His fingers curve, stroking your g-spot. His thumb works soft circles around your sensitive clit as he works you open with his fingers. Really, this is unnecessary. Your cunt is practically dripping with your own arousal.

He makes a show of licking his fingers, groaning at the taste of you. Gojo really has no shame.

The moan he lets out as he sheathes himself is truly sinful.

It's another moment before he starts thrusting.

Gojo needs a moment to collect himself. He’s been working himself up for hours if not days. All the nights he spent, thinking of what he’d do to you once he got home. He’s gone over this day in his head about a hundred times.

The sound of his hips slapping against yours fills the room. His taunts turn into senseless babble. Strands of praise mixed with Gojo’s overall dorky remarks. Pleas of your name, calling you mochi, baby, honey, and every other sappy nickname he can think of. His head falls into the crook of your neck, nipping and sucking at the soft skin. He’s not going to let you leave this bed until you’re thoroughly marked up.

Tension grows in your stomach like a rubber band being stretched tight. Your previous orgasm has left you overly sensitive, and leaves another orgasm creeping up on you sooner than expected. His hand falls to your stomach, working lower until his thumb finds your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub.

He presses your legs further back, shoving them almost to your chest. The stretch leaves a pleasant burn in your hips. Your body isn't really meant to bend this way, though it’s not completely uncomfortable. It's not long before he has you into a full mating press, rutting against you desperately, fucking you into the mattress. The bed frame groans in protest with each of his thrusts. Deep, and unrelenting. Gojo’s cock curves in such a way that hits your sweet spots just right, leaving you writing under him.

“Gonna put a baby in you, Mochi,” he says, “gonna breed this pretty cunt of yours.”

You nod along desperately. You want nothing more than for him to cum inside, filling you completely.

He silences your moan with a kiss, his teeth clashing against yours. His tongue presses past your lips, exploring the wet cavern of your mouth. You can still taste yourself on him.

A line of saliva connects your lips as he pulls away.

“Not gonna ask you to take all of it,” he says, “but take everything I got.”

And with that, he can't hold back any longer, painting your womb white. Gojo’s cum is normally thick, and there's normally a lot of it. Today even moreso. Two weeks away hasn't helped with that. Cum runs down your thighs in streams, ruining your sheets.

The elders aren't going to be happy that he’s so reckless with his precious seed, but Gojo couldn't give a damn. The elders can talk all they want. That's all they're good for. He gets to cum in a warm place, and that's more than any of the others can say.

He practically collapses on top of you.

Gojo shifts so less of his body weight is on top of you. And though the room is rather warm, you find yourself nuzzling into his body, seeking out his warmth. His arms have always given you a sense of security, especially when wrapped up in them. They find your waist, pulling your back flush to his chest.

For a moment the two of you lay there, basking in each other's warmth.

You’ll have to get up in a bit anyway. To clean yourself up, and change the sheets. And get a new shirt. Probably another one of Gojo’s. He’s never been against seeing you wear his clothes. They never stay on you for long, though.

You pry his arms off, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, but he notices, and tightens his grip.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asks, sounding rather offended.

“To get a drink,” you say, “I'm thirsty. Why? Do you want one too?”

“You think I’d let you go after just one round?” He asks. “You’re not leaving this bed until I’ve fucked you full of my cum.”

You're in for a long night.

[33roda]

Kaeya X Dom!Reader <3

tags: tiddy sucking (m!receiving), butt fingering, (m!receiving), brat taming kinda, gn!reader I think !!

____________________________________

Yet another exhausting Abyss Order attack, finally over with.

It was a quite difficult one at that, having required a whole army of knights at the gates of Mondstadt, so Kaeya invited the team to a drink at Angel's Share, out of all places. Even after all the energy that used up, he's still in the mood for drinks?

Well, that didn't matter anyway, because either way, you would've been forced to go either by Kaeya or by Lisa. You sat quietly next to Kaeya, listening to him chat with the other knights.

"Ah, another success.. Of course, we couldn't have done it without our Honorary Knight here," he chatted, sounding as sarcastic as ever. "You truly are a new storm after all."

He rested his hand on your shoulder while holding up his third glass of sparkling wine of the night, chuckling at how Amber was already tipsy after one sip of beer. Jean held her up, furrowing her eyebrows tightly, looking for where Lisa went. Probably off to flirt with the new naive bartender. Everyone's enjoying their time here while she had to babysit Amber and Lisa?

"Of course, Y/N. It is truly an honor to celebrate this with our new Honorary Knight." she stumbled as she continued holding up Amber and wiping her drool with napkins, her slurring drowned out by the noises in the background. You let out a polite smile, showing your appreciation to everyone on the table.

"Thank you, Grand Master. It was a pleasure working with you today." The table was awkward. Too formal, too stiff, but Kaeya didn't seem to mind it, just smirking and slowly sipping on his wine. You almost started wondering and fantasizing about when it'd be time to leave, but as soon as you thought of that, you felt Kaeya's hand slide off your shoulder and started gently caressing your thighs. Ah, expected. Of course there had to be an ulterior motive to his invitation, not that you minded. Taking advantage of the loud, distracting chatter in the background, he ducked his head next to your ear just enough so you could feel his hot breath against it.

"You sure look bored, Y/N. Quite rude of you to not respect etiquette," he whispered against your ear and chuckled. "I have something more fun for you later. Meet me outside the bar once the rest leave."

Ha. Finally, something interesting this night. You had nothing to lose anyway, so why not entertain his request? his actions motivating you to just get the night over with, you try to be more friendly with Jean to lessen the tenseness in the air, her unaware of the touching and groping exchanged between you and Kaeya underneath the table.

Lisa would never seem to return, and Jean eventually got tired of the Outrider hiccuping and slurring on her words next to her, deciding it was best for everyone to just go home. Exchanging goodbyes to everyone, Kaeya escorted them outside, looking back and shooting you a wink and a smug smile before leaving the tavern. Oh what you'd do to wipe that smug smile off his face, and you'd be sure to do just that tonight. You started packing up your stuff, taking your sweet time with it, thinking about how you're keeping The Cavalry Captain waiting. You can already picture how he'll be squirming and begging to be touched.. What a pretty sight, you thought, as you exit the tavern door to be greeted with silence for a second; then the husky voice of a grumpy-looking Kaeya.

"Took ya long enough, Honorary Knight," he raised an eyebrow, waiting for an excuse or an apology, getting a figurative slap in the face when he got teasing instead.

"Oh, so sorry, Captain, did my touch make you so needy in there you couldn't wait for a few minutes?," you cooed, giving him as much of a smug smile as he was giving you earlier.

"Hm," he scoffed. Resistance? from a new knight like you? that's new. He was known to be irresistible, to both men and women, being all dolled up with his fancy fur and chains. At least he still has you in his hands, he thought.

Thank Barbatos the streets were empty ‒ if anyone saw you leading the Captain to your house in the dead of the night, the rumours would not sound pretty for either of you. But rumours were the least of your concerns, being in your room with Kaeya holding you against the wall and leaning down to whisper in your ear as you twirled his ponytail in your fingers from behind.

"Getting you here was easier than expected, Y/N," he taunted, "I'm starting to think you've wanted this for some time."

"In your dreams," you looked up at him. To be honest, he was a very attractive man - looking down at you with half lidded eyes and that smirk that never seemed to fade. He shot down to kiss you, but it was too early, you thought. He had to earn it. You grabbed his ponytail, forcing him to throw his head back and expose his pretty little neck to you. His eyes going wide as you started tracing circles on his exposed chest - now that was a sight to appreciate. Funny, he's the captain yet his skin felt smooth and silky against your calloused hands.. now you understand why he liked showing it off so bad. Switching hands to grab him by the face, you snickered, "It seems like you've been the one planning this, Sir Kaeya. Actually, how about you let me be your master tonight, hm?"

"You think it's that easy? Insulting of you, Y/N," you raised an eyebrow at the disobedience, even with your hands grabbing his cheeks, his words coming out slurred. Should've expected that from a smug fuck like Kaeya. "Prove yourself to me."

"You really are a brat. Not surprised, honey." you said, letting go of his cheeks and immediately diving into his chest to lick and suck at it, leaving it with red and purple bruises. Sliding your fingers across his wet chest and under his shirt, you flicked his nipple with your thumb before squeezing it, feeling him shudder standing in front of you. "What's wrong? can't handle it? need to lay down?" you didn't even let him finish before shoving him down into the bed, impressing him with your sudden strength. Giggling, you pinned his wrists down next to his head. "Just let me have my fun with those pretty tits of yours." Surprisingly, he didn't complain - instead, he just bit his lip and turned his head to the side, allowing himself to be touched. "Such a good boy, really,"

"Th-this is just a one time thing, Y/N, don't get your hopes up," he stuttered out between little gasps and squirms, "I promise you, I'll be stuffing you full tonigh- ngh!" he choked, feeling you move his shirt to the side and start lapping at his nipple. If he wasn't hard before, he sure as hell is now. Riling him up was easier than expected - although he'd never admit that. You continued nibbling at him, feeling his hardness underneath his pants on your stomach. Poor Kaeya, getting hard just from this?

"Sensitive, are we?" you commented between licks. "No wonder you love showing off your chest so much. Makes me think how you'd like showing the rest of you off?"

"You'd love to see that, huh?" he remained smug.

"Why yes, I would, Captain," you purred. You started unbuckling his belt and stripping him all the way down to his underwear, leaving so much more area for you to lick, kiss, and just ruin. "Such a pillow princess. Are you like this with everyone else?"

"N-no!" he exclaimed, looking insulted. "Just strip me already, Y/N." Honestly, it was pretty funny how he tried to mask his horniness, even with his dick as hard as ever under you, face flushed and breathing heavily.

"I'm not stripping you unless you call me your master. And if you strip yourself," you held up his chin with your fingers, "I'll just leave you here, naked and horny, with no pleasure at all. Your choice, Kaeya."

"Master.. please, please strip me - I need more, anything, please," he sounded like he was about to cry. How adorable, his pride crumbling right before him, all just so he could have your touch..

"Good boy."

You pulled down his tight blue underwear down to his ankles, freeing his oh-so-pretty cock. He was certainly impressive, but unfortunately, his dick would be useless to you tonight. "How pretty," you hummed, tracing every vein with your fingers, feeling every throb. "You want more, don't you? I want to hear you beg for more."

"More, please, I n-need you to touch me master, please," gasping, he tried rutting against your hand, rubbing himself on you, anything - but failing. "I want it so bad,"

Having the Cavalry Captain being your little bitch wasn't so bad after all. Laughing at his little whines and pathetic attempts to get off on your hand, you grabbed him and started pumping gently, watching his reactions in pure amusement. His usually striking eyes shut closed, eyebrows tight, his mouth wide open - it was all a sight to behold. Groans and whimpers filling the room, he continued trying to thrust harder into your hand, chasing his release. But baby, he had no idea the plan was entirely different than he thought.

He really thought it was just a bit of teasing, then you'd make him cum with your hands, or fuck you tight. But you stopped pumping him, leaving him whining and begging for more, a look of pitiful disappointment on his face. It almost made you feel bad.

"It's not gonna be that easy, pretty boy," you slapped his thighs, "legs up for me baby."

"H-huh?" he looked genuinely confused, still in a daze from the sudden disappearance of your hand on his cock. Not letting him waste any time, you lifted his legs all the way up by yourself.

"Can't even take orders?" you smacked his ass, making it jiggle and let out that filthy noise. You were impressed how loud it was, honestly. "What would the other knights think seeing you like this, Kaeya? maybe you want them to hear you get fucked? see you all spread out for your master?" Not even giving him a chance to respond, you shoved your fingers in his mouth, he could only hum little "mmphs" and nods in your direction. "I never knew our Captain would be such a slut," you watched in amusement as he coated your fingers in drool, looking up at you in desperation. "I'll give you exactly what you want." smiling at him, you rubbed your saliva-coated fingers against his hole for a few seconds before shoving a finger in to prep him. He wanted more, evidently, by the way he kept humping down against your finger with hesitant moans.

"Y-You're doing it all wrong," he slipped off your fingers with heavy breaths, "let me show you how it's done, master," You raised an eyebrow, and as soon as you were gonna grab him by his throat and punish him, he spread himself out even further with his hands, looking to get a reaction out of you. It was his first time doing this with someone else, but he's definitely fucked himself in front of a mirror before. Who wouldn't love to watch his body like that, anyway?

Shoving two fingers inside himself, he started looking for his spot, erratically humping the air looking for more stimulation, anything; but the most you'd do is stroke his thighs with a smile on your face, teasing him even further. He was obviously just trying to put on a show for you, make you watch him stretch himself out and look at him make the most erotic faces for you - he'd even make sure the whole of Mondstadt heard him get fucked, as if he wasn't gonna wear your hickeys like an award in front of the other knights tomorrow. Watching him fuck in and out of himself, listening to the filthy noises his ass made; you couldn't help but cross your legs a little. "Do you like it, master?" he whimpered.

"I know what you're doing, prince," you answered, "trying so hard to get more.. such a desperate bitch, don't you think?" he nodded in agreement. "Well, since you've been so good.." turning him over, you pushed his face down into the bed. He was already arching his back for you - his pretty hole all wet and ready to get fucked. "You'll still have to work for it, though," you laughed, hearing him groan in protest into the bed. Gently pushing your digits into him, you ordered, "Fuck yourself on my fingers, Kaeya."

Immediately obeying, he pushed himself back onto your fingers, dick flailing under him, sobbing and begging for you to just fuck him yourself - maybe if he obeyed for a little, you'd finally do it? "Such a good boy. And to think you wanted to fuck me?"

You wouldn't let go until you found his spot, curving your fingers towards his navel, making his legs give out from all the pleasure - the Captain was simply a doll in your hands to play with. Even when his legs gave out, only then would you finally fuck him yourself, his tears staining your bed alongside his cum. Fucking his spot even when your arms got tired, you had to make him cum again. His moans getting more and more high-pitched with every fuck into him, squirming and grinding his ass against you, he finally came again with a throaty moan filling the room. You pulled out of him and gave his ass a quick smack, letting him take his breath before turning over to face you. His cum all over his stomach and chest was a sight to remember, dick twitching, his face blushy and pretty lips open gasping.

Sliding your fingers across his chest, you picked up some of his cum and put it near his mouth, waiting for him to put his tongue out to lick it. He did just that, making eye contact with you, and even holding your wrist in place so he could lick it all up. "Good puppy."

He'll definitely be limping around the other knights tomorrow.. Not that he minded. He'll absolutely be teasing you again at the Knights of Favonious headquarters, anyway.

[sunsents]

The Cardigan - F.W 18+

My first ever post and it's a goddamn smut one shot. This has been in my Wattpad drafts for way too long (wrote it three-four months ago), it's not the best, and I'm not proud of the writing but et eez what et eez. I really wan't to start publishing my work and gotta start somewhere. Also the smut is shitty, and the dirty talk is just goddamn vile. Also I'm a horny mf.

Summary ---> "Is that mine? You look better in it than me, that's for sure." An intimate night with Fred after you guys find the house all to yourselves. This is just pure filth, like scroll if you wan't plot. 🌚

Pairing: fred weasley/fem!reader

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: smut / overstim if u squint / cursing / thigh tiding / dirty talk / fred being a horny little shit / an attempt at innuendos / hand-job / cum play (?) / like one ass slap

Rating: 18+

DON'T REPOST MY WORK

The bathroom at the Weasley's were quite cramped, but you didn't care. Your shower was more than satisfactory, the wavering smell of Mrs. Weasley cooking downstairs mixing with the wonderful scent of Fred's shampoo. The hot water loosened all your fatigued muscles - those extra hours out on the field playing Quidditch was worth it - your muscles were taut, flexing wonderfully whenever you lifted your arm to rinse off the products in your hair.

When you opened the door of the bathroom, clouds of hot air escaping and surrounding the small corridor, you were surprised to hear no footsteps, loud chattering of your friends and the usual plates clinking in the kitchen. You figured going downstair naked wouldn't be a good idea, and entered Ginny's room.

The disheveled bedroom was empty, and you looked out the window to the vast garden and wheat fields that got darker with the hot summer night approaching. There was no sign of anyone and you were starting to get anxious. Maybe it was because of the unusual silence - the Weasley household always had some kind of chaos happening - nevertheless, you quickly slipped on some satin shorts and a soft, white knit sweater to keep the evening breezes at bay. After swiftly drying your hair with a towel - you were letting it air dry, Cosmopolitan said Cindy Crawford did it - you applied whatever product was routine for your body and left the room.

Your magical radio was playing a soft jazz from the den and immediate relief washed over you when you stepped downstairs. The creams and perfumes that stuck to your skin wafted around the air and filled the rooms with delicious essences, and your soft socks slipped and slid across the wooden floor to the kitchen as you pushed yourself with ease. You quickly caught yourself with a chair and laughed, being alone wasn't so bad, you figured you could find ways to entertain yourself.

Until, a low chuckle from the den caused you to yelp and almost fall on your ass, merlin forbid. You couldn't bear another injury after George two left feet Weasley accidentally kicked you on the shin while playing Quidditch.

Speaking of Weasley, Fred Weasley was sprawled out on the couch, wearing only his boxers and a long, loosely knitted cardigan sitting on his exposed skin. You felt your mouth water, his head was lazily thrown back, exposing his curved neck and Adam's apple, his freckles more noticeable than ever. He was staring at you, his lips tugging a smile and enjoying the show you put on. Humiliation, is what it was. You were sliding around floorings like Madame Maxine on ice.

Your blood suddenly felt on like liquid fire, and you opened the cupboards to get yourself a glass of water. "Aguamenti," you casted, and from the corner of your eye you saw Fred's gaze set on your exposed legs, trailing up to your ass that was slightly exposed from the length of your shorts. They rode up more when you stood on your toes to place the cup back on the shelf after chugging the liquid down and muttering a cleaning spell.

"Is that mine?" you cleared your throat, finishing up in the kitchen and walking over to one of the rocking chairs. You didn't know why Fred was sitting around practically naked - you didn't question because he was Fred Weasley and you were tired. You weren't complaining etiher.

"Yeah," Fred said breathlessly. "It's surprisingly comfortable."

"You look better than me in it, that's for sure." You chuckled darkly, eyeing his provocative muscles. The hickeys you had left from a few days ago were slightly healed, soft reds trailing his nape and they weren't helping the growing desire between your legs. "Where is everyone?" you asked.

Fred quickly noticed your poorly hidden lustful stares and moved the cardigan away with a sly smirk, revealing more of his abs and flexed thighs. "They went out to Diagon Ally, won't be back until ten." he said. You nodded then took a deep, shaky breath and picked up a magazine from the coffee table. You settled in your mind that maybe looking through the new season Versace bikinis would calm your lust.

Fred let out a long, erotic sigh, allowing a soft groan to escape his lips along the way. Your hand twitched, you were still oblivious to his intentions and crossed your legs for some friction. "Hey ____," Fred called out, and you hummed in response, not looking up from your magazine. You seemed to have read the same line five times now. "I think there's something in my eye, can you blow on it."

Your eyes went wide, Fred was vulgar. This was no surprise to you after dating him for almost two years, but saying something so shamelessly, no hesitation still made your heart stutter. Your imagination was running wild now, you pictured every single thing you wished to do to him at this moment, in those clothes. You quickly put your magazine down, more of slapped it on the table. "Sure, yeah." you said in a shaky voice, then stood up and walked over to him.

Fred's arms were wide on the couch, and one of them pulled your hand down when he was able to reach you. Your heart stopped for a moment, you felt herself land harshly on his thigh and the impact on your core caused a groan from the back of your throat to slip out.

Fred was rather enjoying himself, his head lazily leaning back on the pillow as he rubbed your thighs up and down, digging the pads of his fingers into your skin and causing an embarrassingly load of your juices to flow to your newly worn panties.

You readjusted yourself so the heat between your legs weren't in direct contact with his thigh. You scooted closer and had to bite back a moan when Fred jerked his leg up and applied pressure on your clit. You were trying your best not to show his effect on you, "Which eye." you hissed through gritted teeth, still pursuing his obvious lie.

Fred's shit eating grin only grew wider, and he took your hand and placed it right on his crotch. He was hard beneath his boxers, swelling bigger the second and you were fighting the urge to palm his cock. You shot him a warning look to which he playfully frowned, then gestured to his right eye. You leaned in closer, maybe he really did have something in his eye.

Fred's breathing was heavy, fanning over your lips as you tried to take a closer look. Your inspection was cut short when he gripped your waist, riding up your sweater to touch you directly. You gasped and straightened up at his rough hands kneading around your stomach. Chills were racing down your spine, you didn't want to give in just yet, just for teasing purposes, but Fred was making it unbelievable hard with his tousled hair and hooded eyes boring into yours.

Your panties felt soaked and you hoped he wouldn't notice, but when Fred gripped your shorts and pulled them down, his eyes fell on the wet fabric that was stuck to your entrance. You were painfully aware of how aroused you were, and your heated cheeks weren't helping with your embarrassment.

Fred licked his lips - his expression lust crazed - then he gripped one of your legs and guided it around his thighs, making you straddle him. He held both of your thighs and pulled you in closer, and when your knee touched his boner, it caused him to groan lowly and attempt to close the small gap between your two bodies.

You marveled at the idea of being any more closer to him, the aching on your lower abdomen making you grind yourself on his thigh, whimpering at the much needed friction. The scene looked erotic to you, Fred's finger had slithered down to your panties and moved them to the side to expose all of you, flushed and swollen. He gripped your waist again and started rocking your body on his thigh, "Ride my thigh baby, wan't you to get off on me," he said huskily, "Slow and good~"

You didn't know what else to do other than nod as much agreeable a nod could get. Fred started guiding your hips at a slow pace, not letting you fasten it once. He tutted when you tried for the second time, "Stop being impatient my love." he crooned, straightening himself up to finally meet your lips.

But you barely responded.

You were slack-jawed, your clit swollen painfully, your hips swiveling to get more contact. Pathetic really, is what it was. Fred said few words of filth and here you were, panting and rutting, thanking whoever up there to have the opportunity to ride Fred's obscenely attractive thigh. A thigh shouldn't be this attractive you thought, his skin warm and comfortable, generous muscles teasingly helping you get off. Emphasis on teasingly, he wouldn't let you have anything that easily. It was heaven and hell all at once.

Fred was sensually tracing the outline of your mouth with his tongue all the while, then dipped down and feathered kisses on your jaw that was just as slow as his pace. "Fuck, you're so filthy for this. Who knew this is all it took?" he groaned.

"You have such a responsive cunt babe, I can do whatever I want and you just lose it. Fuck-"

You were growing more frustrated the second and Fred was getting rather talkative, he ran his nose down your collarbones, sucking the supple skin into his mouth and leaving crimson marks. "Freddie please - just, mmmh!" you cried out a strangled moan, you had finally gotten what you wanted. You knew Fred could never resist the nickname, and in such a tone too.

He had started to rub your clit, his other arm wrapping around the small of your back protectively. He groaned against your neck, sending shockwaves of pleasure trailing from your marked neck all down to your feet. But Fred wasn't stupid, he had caught on rather soon and chuckled.

"Bad girl." he mocked, then gave you a light smack on your ass, causing you to yelp and jump. You landed harshly on Fred's thigh again and the moan you let out was almost painful. You clutched onto his hair as he gripped your waist and continued to rock you on his thigh.

You let him guide your movement, your juices easily allowing you to slide yourself back and forth on him, and whenever Fred would pull you forward he would apply pressure on your clit by gripping your waist tighter and pushing you down. He fastened his pace with every grind, and every huff of air you let out when your hips would come in contact. "Oh fucking hell - yes," Fred heaved, your knee must've been grazing against his cock just right because he was letting out soft groans and curse words every other second, his hefty length visible behind the fabric.

You couldn't resist, he had such an attractive dick even after seeing it so many times. You started rubbing him from the outside of his boxers, digging the pads of your fingertips into his shaft whenever you could. Fred's head rested between the slope of your breasts, and his hips bucked up at your touch, rutting desperately into your fisted hand, causing you to loudly moan out when his thigh pressed on your swollen bud.

He was barely jutting your hips at this point, barely able to focus on your pleasure from the amount he was getting. Cocky attitude gone as soon as you touched him, you made him melt under your palm. "I love you so fucking much - ohhh...holy shit, keep rubbing me like that." he moaned against your skin, the intense vibrations making you shudder.

You started to move by yourself, quickly and desperately, your juices glazing the skin and soaking up your panties that was making it harder for you both. But it felt too good to stop and remove it, the heat in your core was growing and you closed your eyes to focus on the man that was letting out hot breaths between the valley of your breasts. His hand started playing with your nipple, squeezing it between his forefinger and thumb as the other gripped your waist and rocked you faster.

Your movement was getting sloppy, legs trembling and jerking whenever pressure was applied to your clit. You were whining the name of your lover, your voice almost pornographic. "Cum my love - fuck yes, cum all over me. Make a mess of me." Fred's hand left your nipple and guided your hips faster, the other pulling down on your thighs as you threw your head back. Fred started circling your clit to speed up your fast approaching release, but it wasn't even needed.

With a final, high pitched squeal, your vision went black, stars dancing around your lids. Your body shuddered violently, and you came hard all over his thigh. "You look so beautiful I-" Fred barely managed to let out before you gripped down his boxers and let his erection swing out. You wrapped your hand around the head and watched in amusement as pre-cum leaked out when you squeezed.

"What? Gonna milk me dry baby?" Fred chuckled darkly, his free hand running through his tousled hair while the other gripped and kneaded the side of your waist.

"I was hoping to do more than that, but for now..." you licked a long stripe up the base of his neck to the back of his ear, and bit. All the while, your hand started working around his painfully hard cock.  Fred was almost heaving now, unlike you who just recently came down from your mind blowing orgasm.

"I-...please, I wan't-" Fred gulped, and in the very rare moments he didn't know what to say. You started pumping his cock, the moment you squeezed him tighter he was coming.

"Fuck fuck fuck - ____!" Fred released all over your hand, his dick twitching beneath your fingers as he leaned his body on yours and let out strangled moans against your neck. You licked your fingers clean, then gently lifted Fred's chin. His eyes were slanted in a deep post-orgasmic daze, and you started to give him slow, wet kisses. "Look how good you taste." you whispered, swirling your tongue around his as he groaned into your mouth.

You were obsessed with how mesmerizing Fred looked. When he came, when he cried out whatever filthy thing came to mind, that blissful glow he had after orgasming. You wanted to repeat those moments over and over again, come with him yourself and touch yourself to his noises. And his taste, you could never get enough of it.

[tchallasbabymama]

Don't Forget About Us

Hello, my lovelies. Here’s my contribution to @nahimjustfeelingit-writes smut challenge (the prompt is in bold!) Let’s see what Erik’s up to now, shall we?

Don’t forget to check out my masterlist to read my other stories and oneshots. Your comments and reblogs mean the world to me, so make sure to let me know what you think! And let me know if you want to be tagged in any of my writing. Enjoy😘

Word count: 5,595

CW: smut...duh.

“So, what do you do for a living?”

Kayla sighed internally at the question and took a sip of her Pinot Grigio. She hated first dates with a burning passion, but unfortunately, that was the only way to find a man around here. She went through the motions of politely answering his questions, barely asking any of her own. She didn’t care. Even just fifteen minutes in, Kayla could tell he didn’t excite her, and she lamented the waste of a good outfit as she listened to him drone on about his life. Every now and then, he’d stop and ask a question about her, but she could tell he was only asking so he could talk more about himself.

How many siblings do you have?

What’s your sign?

Why did your last relationship end?

Her mind traveled to her ex-boyfriend, Erik Stevens. They had spent six blissful years together, and Kayla thought he was the one. She wanted them to get married and start a family, and she thought he did, too, but every time she brought it up, he’d find some excuse to change the subject. At thirty years old, Kayla wasn’t getting any younger, so she grew tired of his avoidance and eventually cut him loose. She needed more out of life, but the guy currently sitting across from her certainly wasn’t it.

“We wanted different things,” she answered vaguely and took another sip. It would be a long night with what’s-his-name. David? Devon? Whatever. At least he had money and took her to a nice restaurant.

Darryl took the opportunity to bore her with the details of his job, which Kayla already knew. He was a colleague of her best friend, Carina’s husband. They worked at the same law firm, and Carina decided to hook them up after tiring of hearing Kayla complain about dating apps. As much as Kayla hated Tinder, she would’ve much rather been at home on her couch swiping left on the cesspool of single men Oakland had to offer. Every few dozen swipes or so, she’d find a cutie, but his bio would be abysmal, or his conversation skills would fall flat.

Despite the fact that their relationship just couldn’t make it, Kayla still thought of Erik as the gold standard. Just thinking about his dimples and his struggle beard made her smile dreamily. His big, strong arms would wrap around her and hold her tight at night, and she’d trace her fingers over the intentionally placed keloid scars that held his darkest secrets. She missed retwisting his locs and the way he always smelled like sandalwood and warm vanilla. Kayla didn’t want to admit it, but she still loved him. No man could compare to her Erik.

“Hello? Kayla?”

“Huh? Oh, sorry. Can you repeat that last part?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. What’s got you so distracted, babygirl?”

Kayla fought the bile rising in her throat. She wasn’t his babygirl. It didn’t even sound right coming from his mouth. Maybe it was the thinness of his lips. They weren’t “white man” thin, but they couldn’t hold a candle to the juicy pussy pleasers she had grown accustomed to.

“Nothing, just thought I saw somebody I know. You were saying?”

“Just that you look beautiful tonight,” Damon attempted to flirt with her.

Kayla wanted to roll her eyes but thanked him instead and smiled politely again. Of course she looked beautiful; she had pulled out all the stops for what she had hoped would be a good night out. Kayla had squeezed her thickness into a lavender satin dress. The way the dress’s skirt cinched on the side kept it snug around her plush waist, but the high slit that traveled up her thigh was the main attraction. The strappy silver heels on her feet showed off her matching pedicure that contrasted beautifully with her glistening brown skin, and her makeup was flawless. Her outerwear for the night, a cropped fur jacket that had found its way to the coat check when they arrived, was the icing on the cake. Her outfit deserved the appreciation, just not from Deshawn.

The waiter saved her from having to focus on her date when she brought out the food they had ordered. Since Kayla knew Derek had money, she had ordered the whole lobster, and she fought her mouth from drooling too much as the waiter set it down in front of her. It laid on a bed of forbidden rice, and the side of roasted brussels sprouts and cremini mushrooms looked heavenly. The ramekin of drawn butter off to the side tempted her as it sat next to the minuscule seafood fork. She may not enjoy her company for the evening, but Kayla damn sure was going to enjoy her meal.

“Looks good,” Dominic called from the other side of the table, breaking Kayla from her trance as he cut into his wagyu beef.

“Sure does.” Kayla wasted no time before digging into her meal. Not only was it the perfect excuse to avoid conversation, but it was perfect, period.

A slight chill permeated the air as the door swung open and the crisp January air entered the small restaurant. Kayla shivered as she complained internally about being forced to sit near the door, but that shiver intensified as she heard a voice. His voice.

“Reservation for Stevens, please.”

Kayla stilled.

“Of course. Right this way, sir,” the maitre d’ responded, and Kayla heard three sets of footsteps coming her way.

--------

“Babe, let’s go!”

“Yell at me one more time, woman,” Erik warned as he came around the corner into the living room, fastening his watch.

“I swear, you take more time getting ready than I do.”

“Whatever, Mo. You ready?”

“Nigga, I been ready!”

Erik rolled his eyes and grabbed his keys. It would be a rough night, and things were already starting off on a bad foot. He and Monique had been seeing each other for the better part of a year, and he’d finally reached his limit. She was overbearing, rude, and just after him for his money, but he hated being alone, so he put up with her bullshit. His cousin, T’Challa, had tried to hook him up with a few ladies back in Wakanda when he went to visit after his breakup, but nothing stuck. Almost immediately after coming back to the states, Erik met Monique at a charity event for the Outreach Center. She had the singing voice of an angel and had been booked as the entertainment for the evening. Erik was drawn to her like a sailor to a siren, and she immediately sank her teeth into him. Past her vocal talents, Monique wasn’t really anything special. Her personality left a lot to be desired, she wasn’t the sharpest crayon in the box, and she just wasn’t her.

The moment Kayla ended their relationship a year ago, Erik’s whole world shattered. He had lived a life full of pain and loss, but Kayla had been his lifeline. She pulled him out of the dark and made him revel in the sunshine. Hell, she was the sunshine, but now he had settled for a UV lamp at best. Kayla had wanted a life that Erik was too scared to give her, but that fear became his downfall. He still missed her most nights. He was lonely, and Monique was there to keep him company, but that wasn’t enough for him anymore. Erik craved a connection that Monique just couldn’t provide. So he decided he had to break it off and figured that doing so in a public place would probably be best. She had a tendency to throw things when she got angry.

The car ride to Chez Martine was tense. Monique had been angry all day because Erik had taken back his credit card even though she wanted to buy a new dress for their date. Her lousy mood almost made him dump her back at his condo, but Erik kept a cool head and stayed focused on the plan. He ignored the way Monique complained the entire time she got ready, reluctantly putting on a dress he had seen her wear before. It didn’t matter to him; he knew what the night held.

When they walked into the restaurant, Erik’s heart dropped into his stomach. He’d recognize that shoulder blade tattoo anywhere. She had cut off all her hair and lost a few pounds, but he knew for sure that he was looking at Kayla. His Kayla. He forced himself to look straight ahead as they passed her table and prayed that the maitre d’ didn’t sit them where she could see him. Unfortunately, he had no such luck because the only open table for two was directly within her line of sight. He prayed again that Monique would sit on the far side of the table, but Bast ignored his pleas once more. He had to sit facing her, and as soon as he got comfortable in his chair, her gaze slyly trailed over to him. They locked eyes across the room, and Erik’s heart stopped. She was just as beautiful as the last time he saw her all those months ago, but who the fuck was that sitting across from her?

“What are you looking at?” Monique’s abrasive voice cut through his eardrums.

“Nothing. Just thought I saw someone I know, that’s all.”

She cut her eyes at him and turned around to look as he buried his face in the menu.

“Quit being nosy,” he complained.

“I just wanna see who’s got your attention, that’s all.” Monique turned back around with a sour look on her face. “It’s probably that fat girl with her cleavage all out.”

“Mo, just look at the fucking menu and act like you got some sense.”

“Fine.”

Monique pouted until the waiter showed up, but she plastered a fake smile on her face as he took their order. As usual, she ordered the most expensive thing on the menu, and it bothered him to no end that she was hellbent on spending all of his money. Of course, he had plenty, but she felt entitled to it. Kayla never cared about him being rich. Hell, when they got together, she didn’t even know he was a prince, but he loved to spoil her nonetheless. He loved the look on her face when he’d buy her things or take her on the expensive trips that she more than deserved. Kayla appreciated everything he did for her with all her heart, but she’d say the same thing every time.

“Thank you, baby, but you’re all I need.”

Erik smiled fondly at the memory of when he bought her a diamond tennis bracelet from Wakanda for their second anniversary. She was so excited to have diamonds that weren’t marred by exploited labor that she damn near dropped the box when she saw what was inside. It had been a rough year for them, what with him disappearing for a couple of months to seize the Wakandan throne and all. She certainly had plenty of colorful words for him when he came back. He’ll never forget the look on her face when he showed up at her door. He had brought T’Challa for backup just in case, but she looked right past the king as tears welled up in her eyes at seeing her Erik, alive and well.

Erik’s eyes started to get misty as he thought about the way she kissed him with so much emotion...then slapped him across the face for leaving. His gaze wandered back over to Kayla and he noticed the light bounce off of something on her arm. She was wearing the bracelet.

As if she felt his glare, Kayla shifted uncomfortably in her seat, so he averted his eyes back to Monique, who had caught him staring again.

“Why don’t you go say hi?” she asked sarcastically, making him roll his eyes so hard they almost got stuck.

--------

Erik Stevens. Here, of all places. He just had to be here.

Kayla noticed that he didn’t seem to be enjoying his modelesque date’s company any more than she was enjoying Darwin’s, and the pang of jealousy she felt at seeing him with another woman went away. She knew she had no right to feel any kind of way about it, especially since she was the one that broke things off. That didn’t make it any easier, though.

Dylan was too wrapped up in his steak to notice her wandering eye, but it seemed that Erik’s food was as uninteresting as the woman across from him. Kayla watched as he half-heartedly pushed it around his plate, but he certainly kept his favorite whiskey coming. She wanted to chuckle but didn’t want Daniel to think he had anything to do with her levity. They were both drowning their dissatisfactions in their alcohols of choice, and Kayla got a phantom taste of Uncle Nearest 1856 on her lips as she watched him take a sip. When he set the glass down and licked his lips, Kayla felt flush. She missed those lips…

“So, how about dessert?” Damien asked as he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his stomach. “I hear their creme brulee is amazing.”

“Uh, sure, why not?”

“You know,” he began as he leaned in and reached for her hands. She allowed him to take them, but the softness of his hands disgusted her. No callouses, no roughness, not even a firm grip. “I’ve had a great night. I’d love to see you again.”

Kayla chuckled nervously, unsure of how to proceed.

“What are you doing next-”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

A shrill voice pierced the air as Erik’s date bolted up from her seat. Desmond, and the whole restaurant, turned around to see what was going on, and Kayla took the opportunity to remove her hands from his.

“Keep your voice down,” Erik sneered through his teeth. “We’re in public.”

“So?! You bring me out here just to dump me? To dump this?!” she gestured at her slim figure, and he rolled his eyes.

“You ain’t even all that,” he waved her off. He was tired of playing nice, and Kayla could see the exasperation written all over his face.

“Excuse me, miss-” the waiter attempted to calm her down, but the crazed woman cut him off.

“Stay out of this!”

“I’m so sorry,” Erik mouthed to the poor man who would absolutely be getting a monstrous tip later.

“Oh, you’re sorry for him, but not for me?”

“Mo, just sit down. We can finish our meal like adults-”

“Fuck you, Erik.” She threw her dirty martini at him, soaking the front of his all-black ensemble.

Kayla could damn near see the steam coming out of his ears as his apparent ex stormed out of the restaurant. Erik locked eyes with her across the room, and when he saw the concern written all over her face, his softened.

“Whew, poor fella,” Dexter commented as he turned back around. “Where was I? Oh-”

“Excuse me, where’s your restroom?” Kayla interrupted him as their waiter walked by.

“Right down there.” She pointed at a set of stairs off to the side, and Kayla thanked her as she slid out of her seat.

“I’ll be back, Darius.”

“It’s Denzel.” He deflated.

“Fuck,” she froze. She had been sure it was Darius. “Still, I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be here,” he responded, obviously upset by her slip-up.

Kayla hurried off down the stairs and leaned against the wall as she waited for either of the single-use restrooms to open up. She took a deep breath and opened her clutch, reaching in to pull out her phone with a shaky hand and typing in his number. It was one of the few she had memorized, just in case.

“You ok?”

Her thumb hovered over the send button, but she couldn’t press it. Her heart nearly thumped out of her chest at the thought of starting a conversation with him, but something within her said that she should. It would be weird not to say anything after all that, right?

“Hey-”

“Shit!” Kayla dropped her phone when his silky baritone graced her ears.

“My fault, ma.” Erik leaned over and picked the phone off the floor, checking it for cracks. He saw she had typed a message out to him and smirked before handing it back to her.

“T-thanks.”

“No problem. And, yeah, I’m ok.”

“Huh?”

Erik pointed at her phone screen.

“Oh! Right. Um, well, that’s good to hear.” Kayla attempted to push her hair behind her ear out of habit, forgetting she had just cut it all off a week ago.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You ok? You don’t seem to into ole dude out there.”

Kayla sighed and rolled her eyes, “Oh, him.”

“Damn, it’s like that?” Erik laughed, and she slapped his arm. That slight contact was enough to spark a flame in them both, and Erik’s face turned serious. “For real, though, not going well?”

“Better than you, it seems,” she quipped as she eyed his wet shirt. That was a bad idea because his first three buttons were undone, and she caught a peek of the raised scars that she missed so much. And that broad chest, and the chain with his father’s ring that he always wore. He’d let her wear it from time to time, and she always felt like it was such an honor. He trusted her enough to let her wear it. He loved her enough to-

Kayla pried her eyes away and made yet another mistake: she looked up at him. Those eyes still looked like sweet, sweet molasses, and even though his locs were braided back, she could tell he was letting them grow out. She momentarily wondered who was retwisting them nowadays, but her train of thought was cut short by the scent of sandalwood and vanilla. Kayla’s mind went blank as she inhaled slowly.

“Heh, yeah. That was...that was pretty embarrassing. Not even gonna lie.” Erik looked away shyly, unable to hold her gaze.

“I guess you’ll need to find a new date spot, huh?”

“Nah, I think I’m good on dating for a while.”

“Same,” Kayla sighed. “Dating sucks.”

“Yeah…”

One of the bathroom doors unlocked, and a middle-aged white man stepped out and passed them on the way up the stairs.

“Well, I should-”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Kayla walked towards the bathroom, but before she could reach the door, she felt a light tug on her wrist. His touch still gave her goosebumps, and he noticed her raised skin as she turned to face him.

“I just, uh...it was nice seeing you, Kay-kay.” Erik smiled at her, and she nearly melted. She missed when he called her that, too. “You look good.”

“Thanks, E.” She smiled back. “So do you.”

He let her go, and Kayla disappeared into the bathroom. When she closed the door behind her, she took a deep breath to center herself. After all these months, Erik still took her breath away. He clouded her senses and scrambled her mind. Even as she took care of business, her brain replayed their short interaction on a loop.

Kayla locked eyes with her reflection as she dried her hands. How could she go back up there to- what’s his name? Oh, yeah, Da- Denzel. That’s it, Denzel. How could she go back up there to his mediocre company when the man she still loved had made her feel so alive with just one touch. That was the magic of Erik, his magnetism. When they were together, she couldn’t help but be drawn to him, even when she wanted to slap him across his beautiful face. Those were some of the best times, though. If she was angry at him, he knew exactly what to do to calm her down. To put her in her place. To remind her-

Kayla’s daydreaming was cut short by a knock at the door.

“Occupied!”

It came again.

“I’ll be out in a minute!”

She reached for another paper towel to dab off the sweat that had started to pool on her skin at the thought of Erik’s dominance when the door opened.

“What the f- Erik?!”

He pushed inside the bathroom and locked the door behind him.

“You need to start locking doors, Kay.”

“I- what do you want?”

“I want to talk to you,” he spoke as he moved closer to her.

“Here?!”

“Yeah, here,” he chuckled.

Kayla rolled her eyes and tried to push past him.

“Now is not the time or place-”

“When is?” he blocked her exit, and she crossed her arms in defeat, looking up at him through her lashes as she leaned against the sink. “Look, I just need to say something real quick.”

“Fine,” Kayla sighed and gestured for him to continue. She knew there was no use fighting him. She wasn’t leaving that bathroom until he was good and ready.

“Kay,” his voice softened, and she looked away only to have her face pulled back in his direction. “Kay-kay, look at me.”

She made the mistake of doing just that, getting lost in his eyes again.

“I miss you,” Erik murmured.

“Erik-”

“Look, I know, ok? I know. And I’m sorry, Kay. I really am- no, look at me. I’m sorry I wasn’t enough for you...but I miss you, girl.”

Kayla’s eyes welled up with tears that she tried her hardest to blink away, but one had the nerve to fall. Erik wiped it away, and the next one, and the next one. A sob wracked Kayla’s body, and he wrapped his arms around her body.

“Don’t cry, babygirl. I know you worked hard on your makeup.”

Kayla laughed through her tears, but the emotions washed back over her, and she buried her face into his chest. It was already soaked with gin, so what harm would a few tears do?

He held her and rocked her softly from side to side as she cried, and after a couple of minutes, she found the will to look up at him again. His cheeks were wet, so she reached up and swiped her thumbs over them as she held his face in her small hands. He nuzzled into them and kissed her wrists.

“I miss you, too, E,” she croaked.

“I know, babygirl.”

He leaned in to kiss her forehead, and she closed her eyes as his soft lips caressed her skin. They stayed intertwined for who knows how long until Erik felt Kayla begin to pull back. He looked down at her, and the two of them locked eyes. Before they knew it, their lips had met in the middle in a passionate embrace. They got lost in each other for a moment until common sense returned to Kayla, and she pushed him off.

“We can’t-”

“Why not?”

“Because…”

“Because what, Kay?” Erik’s voice rumbled as he closed what little gap was between their bodies. He left soft kisses on her temples before working down to her cheeks, then her jawline, and eventually the column of her neck. She let out a soft whimper when his teeth grazed the crook of her neck but pushed him back again before he could continue any further.

“Erik, I...I still love you, and-”

He attacked her lips with his, hands feverishly gripping her waist as he pushed her further into the sink. She had nowhere to go, and she was ok with that.

“I...love you...too...babygirl,” he whispered between kisses.

Kayla’s mind went blank as he lifted her up on the counter and pressed himself between her legs. She could feel him, all of him, and damn did she miss that monster between his legs.

“Erik,” she moaned as he nipped at her earlobe. He still knew how to play her body like a violin.

“Mmm, say it again.”

“Erik!” she squeaked as she felt his strong hands grip her thighs.

“Just like that,” he groaned, and she flooded her already wet panties.

“Baby-”

He connected his forehead to hers and stared deep into her eyes. “You miss me?”

“Mhm,” Kayla nodded with her lip between her teeth.

“I miss you, too, baby. I think about you all the time. Every day,” he pecked her lips, “every night. I miss everything about you, Kay-kay. Your off-key singing, your horrible cooking-”

“Shut up,” Kayla giggled as his hands traveled up her dress.

“Your body…fuck I miss this body. I miss how you smell, how you taste...how that tight little pussy feels wrapped around my dick.”

Kayla widened her legs for him as his fingers found their way to the seat of her panties, stroking up and down her slit. Erik kissed his way back down her face and over to her ear, his warm breath sending chills down her spine.

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself? Because I do. You’re all I see when I stroke my dick...wishing it was your hand...your lips...this fucking pussy.”

Erik pushed her panties to the side, and his nimble fingers circled her clit. Kayla let out a small moan that was music to his ears, making fingers move faster and her breath grow shallower with each rotation.

“Answer me.”

“Mhm.”

“Come on, babygirl, you can do better than that. You think about me when you play in your pussy? This pussy right here?” he asked as he slapped her vulva, her wetness sticking to his hand.

“Y-yes, baby-”

“Uh-uh, you know who I am. Say it,” Erik commanded as he snuck three fingers inside her wetness, making her moan loudly in his ear. “Shhh, you gotta be quiet, babygirl. You don’t want people out there knowing how much of a slut you are, right?”

Kayla shook her head no.

“That’s what I thought. Now, I asked you a question, Kayla,” he reminded her. His gruff voice made her weak, and the fingers that were steadily speeding up inside her certainly didn’t help. “Answer me. Who am I, babygirl?”

Kayla tried to hold out as much as she could. She didn’t want to say it, too proud to give in, but the way he was currently stretching out her pussy and curling his fingers inside her made her cling to his shoulders. The bastard knew what he was doing, and she didn’t want to let him win. But then, he played dirty and bit down on her neck. She cried out, and when he pulled back to look at her, the ferocity in his eyes drove her up the wall.

“I said, who the fuck am I, Kayla?” Erik growled. His hand sped up, making her weak with every thrust. She couldn’t hold it anymore and came undone around him, her mouth betraying her as his name fell from her lips.

“Daddy!” she gasped as her pussy spasmed, and he chuckled darkly.

“Damn right I am,” he kissed her lips, “now gimme that pussy. Daddy missed his pussy.”

Kayla heard a rip and felt the cool air between her legs as he tore through her panties to get to her treasure trove. She reached down between them and grabbed his clothed erection in her hand, making him groan as he bit down on his luscious bottom lip. She undid his belt buckle and slowly unzipped his pants before reaching in and pulling out his throbbing dick.

The longing in her eyes told him everything he needed to know, so he pushed her legs back and tapped his head on her clit.

“You want daddy’s dick in you?”

“Mhm,” she whimpered.

“Good.”

He pushed in and groaned at the feeling of her pussy walls gripping him as he sheathed himself inside her.

“Fuck, you feel like home.”

Kayla moaned into his neck in response and wound her hips against him, meeting him thrust for thrust as he stroked into her slow and deep. She couldn’t form words. He felt so damn good inside her that Kayla’s brain had short-circuited. Erik’s dick hit spots that she could never find herself no matter how hard she tried. Even in her dreams, he drove her body wild. She had spent the last year trying to find somebody, anybody who could make her feel that way, but nobody could compare to Erik Stevens.

Erik and Kayla panted heavily into each others’ mouths as he made love to her body, and as soon as Kayla started to tense up, his thrusts grew harder.

“I-I-”

“I know, babygirl. Daddy feels it,” he groaned as he nipped at her bottom lip. “Cum on my dick like a good girl.”

His words sent Kayla into overdrive, and her body shook as she spilled over him. Her spasming walls hugged him tight, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, begging him with her eyes.

“You feel amazing,” she moaned.

“Mhm. I know them other niggas wasn’t hitting it like this. I just know it. Look at you, cumming all over daddy’s dick. Look at it!” He grabbed her chin and made her look down at her throbbing pussy as his dick slid in and out of her.

“We look so good, daddy!”

Erik slammed into her, and she bit into his shoulder to keep from screaming. He gave her his all over and over, rocking the countertop in the process.

“We’ll look even better if you let me cum in this pussy. Mix my cum with yours-”

“Yes!”

“Yes?” He chuckled. “You want it that bad, huh? Nasty ass, in here getting fucked while that bum ass nigga’s waiting for you upstairs.”

“Mmm, I want it.”

“Want what, babygirl?” Erik teased as he brought his thumb to her clit, strumming it slowly as he thrust into her.

“You. I want you to cum deep in me.”

“Shit,” Erik groaned. “You want it deep in there?”

“Mhm. Put it where it belongs, daddy.” Kayla licked up the side of his neck, making his knees buckle. “Cum in your pussy.”

Erik lost all sense of control and pounded into her tight pussy, somehow getting even deeper in preparation for his release. Kayla held on tight as she felt him begin to spasm inside her, and she released around him again as his deep moans tickled her ear. Erik thrust extra deep and held his dick in place as he emptied his balls into her warmth, whimpering lightly as she rubbed his back to soothe him and bring him back down.

“I missed you, babygirl.”

“I missed you, too, daddy.”

They stayed like that, wrapped up in each other until their breathing slowed. Erik was the first to move, slowly pulling himself out of Kayla as she whined at the loss of contact. He kissed all over her face before planting a slow, sweet kiss on her lips.

“I can’t let you go again, Kay-kay,” his voice cracked as tears threatened to fall from his eyes again.

Kayla pulled him back in and kissed him so deeply that she nearly lost herself in him again, but he pulled away and looked her in her eyes.

“I’m serious, girl. I’ll do anything. I’ll marry you, give you as many big-headed babies as you want. Just, please, Kay-” she cut him off with another kiss to shut him up.

“We should go back to my place and talk,” she whispered, and Erik’s face lit up. Something about the way she said it, the way she kissed him, the way her body still responded to his...it gave him hope. Kayla smiled at him and pecked his lips once more before hopping off of the sink. He had to catch her because her legs were wobbly, and she stumbled a little in her heels.

“You aight?” he laughed.

“No, nigga,” she slapped his chest, and the two of them got caught in a laughing fit. They had really just fucked in the bathroom at Chez Martine. Kayla was on cloud nine until a thought occurred to her, and her face fell flat. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” Erik’s face turned serious, and his eyes scanned over her body, looking for whatever the problem was.

Kayla started giggling again, and he looked confused.

“What is it?” he asked, barely able to keep a straight face. Her laugh was always so infectious…

“Demetrius.”

“Who?!”

“My date.”

“Girl, don’t worry about him. He probably thinks you dipped out anyway.”

Kayla shrugged and fixed her dress as Erik stuffed his shirt back in his pants. They checked their reflections in the mirror, and Kayla was pleasantly surprised that her makeup was still intact thanks to that setting spray she had splurged on the other day.

“Ready?” Erik asked as he admired her beauty. Kayla nodded, and he unlocked the door, opening it to find Duncan leaning against the wall with a sour look on his face. Kayla’s eyes blew wide as she tried to figure out what to say to her date for the evening.

“Heyyy, um…”

“Denzel,” he seethed.

“Yeah, sorry. So, um, we’re-”

“Sorry, bruh,” Erik clapped him on the shoulder, “but we heading out. Bathroom’s all yours, though.”

Erik pulled Kayla along, and she sent Deion an apologetic glance before following Erik up the stairs. It seemed the whole restaurant knew what had occurred, but neither one of them cared. They were just happy to be around each other again. It had been entirely too long.

Taglist: @ladymac82, @kitesatforestp, @harleycativy, @raysunshine78, @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @motheroffae, @love-mesome-me,@toni9, @bribrisback, @impremenior, @blacklytical, @uzumaki-rebellion, @honeyandpeaches, @cecereads209, @wakandama2,

[the-viridian-leaf]

@the-entity-child

It would seem while the survivors were away from the one only place of claim and peace in the realm of madness and death a odd woman would appear with cooking some kind of stew at the roaring bonfire. It could have been a new survivor maybe but soon they would notice the tanto holstered to her side as black spider limbs similar to the entity has! Before they could move the woman would speak turning to them with a smile and a wave. "Oh your already back? How was it do you want some food?"

TW: Implied/referenced past suicide attempt, very mild gore, psychological horror.

Nea didn't used to be a religious person, how could she believe in the existence of a kind god when so many things were wrong in the world? When homicides were the daily bread. When money was (is) more powerful than justice and the horrific acts carried out by those with greater economic power, are hidden behind bills.

How can there be a god when famines, wars and abuses are overlooked?

As such, Nea also didn't believe in the afterlife. What was supposed to be after death, if there is no heaven or hell? What was left after? Nothing. The lack of existence.

However, her perception of reality was irretrievably destroyed once she had reached the realm of the Entity.

Some people would have said that the experience ripped a blindfold off their eyes, making them understand the passages written in a book hundreds of years old. A book that speaks about the divinity of the gods, written by the corrupt hand of the mankind.

She still thinks all of that is bullshit. What she can't keep thinking about is the lack of the presence of the afterlife.

The young artist doesn't know what the circumstances of her current situation are, is she still alive? She supposes that she must be, for she would not otherwise bleed every time her tender flesh is cut open; she would not feel pain, sadness, or happiness. She wouldn't feel the softness of Steve's hair between her fingers, when he finally breaks and she has to try to put the pieces back together. She wouldn't feel Quentin's nervous heartbeat against her body, during those rare occasions when they can coax him into sleep, and the three of them end up huddled near the campfire.

Is this hell? Who is the Entity? Why can't they die? So many have tried before, exhausted by nightmares and fear, wanting a way out of this awful place… only to wake up a little more broken than they were.

Geez…she's so tired.

"Do you think Quentin will make it out?" the athlete's hoarse voice breaks the silence after what seems like an eternity. It sounds small, and wrong. So fucking wrong.

Or is it the residual static of the trial, still frying her brain? Ever since she came back to life, her ears haven't stopped ringing.

The clear eyes of the Swedish leave the ground, to trace the haggard face of the youngest. He still has a little bit of blood on the corners of his lips, and his expression looks haunted.

She chooses to shrug, exhausted. Moving is painful, but she's not ready to talk yet. She is afraid that if she opens her mouth, she will just start screaming again. He seems to share the sentiment, because after that he doesn't speak again.

Finally, when the anxiety is too much to remain prostrate in the same place, the duo begin the slow walk to the camp. The unnatural silence of the forest raises the hairs on the back of her neck, and more than once she has to be brought back to reality by the chestnut, when she is sure that the Doctor is stalking her from behind a tree.

The warm light of the fire, however, is the incentive they both need to drag their feet for the last few meters. That and the too exquisite aroma that perfumes the air as they approach. However, any spark of curiosity or relief that might have ignited in their hearts is crushed by the sight that greets them: There, standing in the middle of the campfire, the slender figure of a girl stands out in the loneliness of the location. Beside her, a cauldron bubbles, emitting the enticing scent that had watered their mouths moments before.

"Oh your already back? How was it? Do you want some food?"

Nea feels like she's going to throw up, despite the sweet tone the…creature uses. Her friendly smile arouses a sense of panic so strong in herself, that it takes her breath away. Or is it the overwhelming emptiness that is opening in the pit of her stomach, like a black hole?

What's going on? This is not fair. THIS IS NOT FAIR. They're supposed to be safe here. IT WAS SUPOPSED TO. Supposed, what is supposed? HA, how could she be so stupid? How could she let herself be fooled? Nothing here is safe. It's all a lie, a trick. They are going to die? Will they finally die? Or is this another twisted game? Where are everybody?

"What's in the pot?" The jock's voice sounds strained, like he's about to have a mental brakdown right there. Out of the corner of her eye she can see him briefly, pale and rigid.

Her aquamarine irises take another look at the stew. If she squints, she can make out what appear to be pieces of meat floating on the surface.

Oh God.

Bile burns her throat.

"Where are the others?" She'd swear she just spoke, but she's not sure if any sound actually left her lips or if she just thought it.

Everything is too much.

@the-entity-child

[citrusdarling7]

jealously

summary- Tom Riddle becomes jealous of reader’s boyfriend and decides to take matters into his own hands

warnings- smut, cheating, degrading, edging, and a bit of light choking. dom! tom, sub! reader

🗡—————————————————————🗡

I’ve never been much of a morning person, but for some reason I was up early today. I knew that I had a potions essay due tomorrow, and I was behind on it. Still in my silky nightgown, I assumed no one else would be in the common room. To my surprise, Abraxas was sitting in front of the fireplace. I smiled and tip-toed over to him, wrapping my arms around his chest from behind him. He squeezed one of my hands gently, acknowledging my presence.

“Darling, why are you up? It’s barely 5 am,” he told me softly. I rolled my eyes and swiveled around the couch so I could sit down next to him.

“I should be asking you the same thing, Malfoy. Oh my God, what happened to your face?” Even in the dim lighting of the Slytherin common room, I could see the dark purple bruises around one of his eyes. I gently reached up to try and touch him, but he turned his face to the side.

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. Did you sleep well?” He tried to change the subject, but I didn’t let up.

“Brax, what the hell happened? Please tell me that the other guy looks worse,” I said while positioning myself closer to him. I gently ran a finger along his jawline in a comforting gesture. I could smell his sage wood cologne, which I absolutely adored.

“Truthfully darling, I think I’m lucky I walked away without him cursing me. He was absolutely livid after you left.”

Of course. I was such an idiot. Tom had done this to him.

Late last night, Abraxas and I were kissing in the corridor when we decided we wanted to go somewhere more private. Abraxas knows how to find the Room of Requirement, and he dragged me inside, still kissing my neck and holding onto my waist. Unfortunately for us, all of the other 6th year Slytherin boys were already there, brewing some type of illegal potion. Not only had Abraxas forgotten he was supposed to meet with them that night, but he had also exposed me to what was happening.

Although some people would believe so, I’m not naive to what goes on in this school. I know about Tom and his pursuits in dark magic. I know about their constant fights with those Gryffindors who all wear that one lion pin. But Tom seemed to believe that I had no prior knowledge of these secret meetings, and he instantly started yelling at us.

“Malfoy, you idiot! You are not supposed to bring back girls to this room, and certainly not when we’re in the middle of illicit activities!”

Rosier and Avery were still sitting by the cauldron, doing nothing to help the situation. I stepped away from Abraxas and turned towards Tom.

“Calm down, Riddle. You and your superiority complex need to learn that not everyone’s life revolves around yours,” I spat at him. Tom took a step closer to me, and I instinctively reached to pull out my wand. Before I had a chance to, I felt the back of my head being slammed against the wall, Tom’s hand gripping my throat tightly. Abraxas and Rosier both shouted for Tom to let go of me, but I just smiled. I stared him down, letting him know that I wasn’t afraid of him.

“You’re not allowed to speak to me that way,” he growled.

“I can speak to you any way I want Tommy.” His eyes looked as if he wanted to strangle me, but I saw the trace of a smile play across his lips. He abruptly let go of me and turned towards Abraxas.

“You need to keep your girlfriend under control. Get out of here.” Abraxas quickly grabbed my hand and started to pull me towards the door.

“Not you, Malfoy. Your presence is still required here.” I opened my mouth to tell him off again, but Abraxas quickly shook his head.

“Go back to the common room, darling. I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?” I reluctantly sighed, but figured that I shouldn’t piss Tom off even more. I should have known that Tom would still be angry with Abraxas.

Flashing back to present time, I turned around to look towards the boys dormitories. Abraxas could tell what I was thinking, so he gently squeezed my hand.

“Leave it alone, dearest. He was fine the rest of the night, confronting him will just make him mad again. I don’t want you to get hurt, my love.”

I’m not one to back down easily, and I constantly let my temper get the best of me. But Abraxas’ soft touch against my leg and heart-felt words relaxed me a bit.

“Alright. I won’t say anything. Have you done Slughorn’s essay yet?”

We spent the next hour or so alone in the common room, trying to hastily finish up homework. By the time that others started waking up, I was sitting in his lap, my hands in his hair as we kissed passionately.

“You two are disgusting. 20 points from Slytherin,” a cold voice said. I rolled my eyes and gave Abraxas a quick peck on the lips before sliding off of him and back onto the couch. Tom was Head Boy, and he had no problem with taking points from his own house. He had a lot of nerve as well. Almost every single night I watched him drag some girl into his room. She always left limping a few hours later, and Tom never spoke to her again.

“Put some clothes on. You’re dressed like a whore,” he spat at me. I scoffed at him, but got up to head back to my room anyways. As I slipped on my school robes and brushed out my hair, I couldn’t stop thinking about Tom.

The rest of the day went by pretty quickly. I managed to get through all of my classes without speaking a word to Tom. After watching the Slytherin quidditch team practice while gossiping with Lestrange, I sat with Rosier and Abraxas in the common room. Rosier made me play chess with him, beating me every single time. This was strange, since I considered myself an excellent chess player. I guess I was just a little distracted. Abraxas excused himself to his dorm room, saying that he had a ton of homework to do. He gave me a gentle kiss on the cheek before leaving.

“Something on your mind?” Rosier asked me. I sighed and slumped down in my chair.

“I don’t know. I guess I’m still kind of upset about what happened with Tom. Why do you guys let him treat you all so awfully?”

“It’s not as simple as that. Being friends with Riddle has advantages and disadvantages. The occasional hex or punch to the face isn’t much of a price to pay.” I scoffed and rolled my eyes.

“One of these days I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch,” I said with a grin. Rosier chuckled and patted my arm.

“Good luck with that.”

A few hours later I was lying in my bed, staring up at the ceiling. I had been trying desperately to fall asleep. But something was still on the back of my mind, and that something was preventing me from being able to relax. I let out a sigh and rolled out of bed. I slipped out of my room and quietly walked down the stairs, into the common room. I then made my way up the stairs leading to the boys dormitory. I took a deep breath before knocking on the door at the end of the hallway. He opened the door, and my nostrils were instantly filled with the smell of smoke. Tom stood inches away from me, still in his school uniform. He was holding a lit cigarette between his fingers.

“Did you need something, sweetheart?” I rolled my eyes at his stupid pet-name.

“You are absolutely insane, Riddle! You walk around this damn school like you own the place, and I’m sick of it.” He smiled and offered out his arm to me.

“If you’re going to yell at me, then you might as well do it behind closed doors,” he offered. I didn’t take his hand, but I did step inside and let him shut the door behind me. Since he was Head Boy, his room was bigger than all of ours. I could see that his window was open, probably because of the smoke. His bed had black silky sheets adorning it, and I could see all of the books on his desk were neatly stacked. His box of cigarettes was laying on his nightstand.

“So did you come here just to tell me off or did you want a smoke as well?” he taunted.

I turned around to face him again.

“I want you to stop hitting my boyfriend. And the rest of the boys. You have to learn how to respect others.” He chuckled darkly while taking a step towards me.

“Darling, that’s a pretty demanding request. My respect has to be earned.” In an attempt to look more confident, I crossed my arms across my chest.

“You’re such a child, Tom. I don’t know why you think that everyone worships you!” I shouted at him. He quickly wrapped his free hand around my neck and pushed me against the wall. He flicked his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out.

“That’s because everyone does. Everyone except you it seems.” I don’t know why Tom had this constant need to slam me up against the wall and choke me. It didn’t make me afraid of his dumbass.

Honestly, it was kind of hot. He brought his other hand up to my face and he touched my cheek softly.

“Did you and Malfoy ever finish what you started yesterday?” It took me a moment to realize that he was asking if we had fucked.

“That’s none of your business,” I snapped at him. He tightened his grip on my throat and used one of his legs to pin down mine.

“Answer my question.”

“No, I haven’t slept with him. Why do you care?” Tom brought his head down to my neck and whispered into my ear.

“Because I’m not into sloppy seconds.” Before I had a chance to mention the fact that he probably had over twenty bodies, he started kissing me roughly. I kissed him back and wrapped my leg around one of his. I let him suck on my neck as he pushed my thin nightgown up my leg and slipped one of his hands under it. He started to slowly rub circles on my thigh. He continued to suck on my neck as I tried to grind against him. He growled and used his other hand to push my waist back against the wall.

“None of that. Do you want me to touch you, darling?” he asked in a mocking tone. I nodded and he slipped his fingers into my underwear.

“Someone’s a needy little slut,” he whispered. Part of me wanted to call him a man-whore, but the part of me that valued my life kept me quiet. I felt him push two fingers inside me and I whimpered. He started to rub my clit with his thumb as he thrusted his fingers in and out of me. He started kissing my neck again as I moaned quietly. He was going incredibly slow, making me desperate for every touch. At a particularly sharp pressure, one of my legs twitched and I had to bite my lip to stop from making noise. Tom chuckled and tilted my chin towards him.

“Didn’t you come here to yell at me? Are you going to yell at me now, darling?” He started to rub me faster, which made it difficult for me to even speak.

“I hate you,” I was able to mutter. He laughed and pinched my waist roughly, making me jump. After only a few minutes, I was starting to get close to my peak. I felt my legs start to shake as I bit my lip to stifle my moans. Tom noticed this, so he stopped touching me. I frowned as he leaned down to whisper into my ear.

“Did you really think I was going to let you come that quickly?”

Before I had the chance to respond, he grabbed my legs and spun me around, pushing me onto his bed. He quickly tugged my nightgown off of me and started to take off his shirt. I tried to reach up and help him, but he used his free hand to push me back onto the bed. He quickly unbuckled his belt and kicked his pants off before getting on top of me. I felt his member pressing against my thigh. He wrapped a hand around my throat again and used the other hand to gently rub one of my hips.

“Is this what you want? Me to fuck you senseless while your boyfriend sleeps two rooms over?” I felt him rub against my clit, teasing me purposefully. I decided that I wouldn’t tell him that me and Abraxas weren’t actually dating until later.

“Tom-”

“Shut up,” he growled before thrusting into me sharply. As he rocked into me, I definitely felt a bit of pain. He was bigger than what I was used to, but I was adjusting quickly. I tried to rest my arms on his shoulders, but he didn’t like that. He pinned my hands above my head and started to attack my neck with his mouth.

“If you do that again, I’ll tie you down. Don’t test me,” he muttered. He continued to rail into me over and over, hitting me at just the right angle. In less than ten minutes I was close again. I tightly clenched the sheets and tried to grind my hips against his to alleviate some of the tension. That’s when he slipped out of me with a grin.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” he said while stroking my hair.

“Are you fucking serious?” I complained.

“Completely. Be a good girl and maybe I’ll let you finish before the night is over.”

I will admit, his self-control was pretty impressive. Most guys wouldn’t be able to handle pulling out before they had finished. But I also figured that he was just bluffing. There was no way he would be able to do this for more than twenty minutes. After 30 or so seconds of him attacking my mouth with his tongue, he thrusted into me again. This time his strokes were a bit slower and more gentle. He rubbed one of my arms lightly as he made me shiver at his touch.

“Tom, oh my God,” I moaned into his neck. I assumed he was going to tell me to shut up, but I guess he liked knowing how good he was making me feel.

“That’s right, darling. You like this?” I nodded my head as he pressed soft kisses against my jawline. I was definitely pleased with his change of pace. The slow stroked and gentle kisses made this feel a bit more like a normal thing. But of course, that didn’t last very long. Once he was done leaving hickies all over my neck, he wrapped his hand around it. He started to press himself deeper inside of me, rocking me into his bed. I whimpered as he hit a spot that made my legs twitch.

“Quiet, slut,” he demanded. I tilted my head slightly away from him, trying to stifle my moans with one of his pillows. I was panting at this point, desperately gripping onto the sheets.

“Could Malfoy make you feel this good?”

“Yeah, if I was with him I would’ve came by now,” I thought to myself. However, I shook my head in an attempt to appease him.

“That’s right. Should I let you finish now?” I nodded and he jerked my face back towards him. “Alright. Beg for it.” That actually made me laugh. There was no way I was going to give into him that easily. Tom shrugged and continued to pound into me. “Be difficult then. I don’t care either way.”

I bit down my lip to muffle a scream as my stomach flipped and my legs shook. Right when I was about to be sent over the edge, he pulled out of me again. By now, I was completely fed up with him. I tried to bring one of my hands down between my legs, but he was quicker than me. He grabbed both of my arms and roughly pinned them above my head.

“I don’t think so, dear. I want the whole hallway to hear you screaming my name,” he said while stroking my cheek tauntingly.

“Good luck with that,” I said with an eye roll.

“You’re mine now. No one gets to touch you but me,” he muttered into my ear before thrusting into me again. By now I could see finger-shaped bruises starting to form on my waist. We had been going at it for at least 35 minutes, and my body was aching for release. I was confident that he had left at least 5 or so hickies on my neck, which I was not looking forward to having to cover up tomorrow. Out of instinct, I tried to move my leg around his to adjust the angle. Tom slammed me down onto his bed roughly.

“Don’t fucking move,” he growled. He pressed one of his thumbs against my clit, making me whimper. I was so frustrated that tears had started to stream down my face. Tom gently wiped them away with his free hand.

“Are you gonna apologize for yelling at me earlier?” he asked in a snarl. I shook my head, which made him chuckle.

“That’s what I thought. If you’re gonna be like that, you clearly haven’t learned your lesson.” He started to kiss roughly at my collar, obviously trying to mark me more. After a few minutes of listening to me whine and pant, he decided to give me another chance.

“Promise me you’ll stop hanging around Malfoy,” he said softly. That kind of threw me for a loop.

“What? Why?” He nibbled on my ear lobe and thrusted into me sharply.

“You’re my little slut now. I don’t want him touching you. Promise me.” I instinctively shook my head, which only made his thrusts even harder.

“Promise me, darling. Like I said, I can go all night.” I really, really wanted to keep my mouth shut. But I was so overwhelmed, I couldn’t take much more.

“Fine. I promise. Please Tom, I-”

He bit down on my lip and thrusted into me at the perfect angle and speed.

Over-and-over again.

I moaned his name as well as a stream of profanities as waves of pleasure tore through my body. My legs were shaking so bad that he had to actually hold them down. While I was riding out my high, Tom muttered praises into my ear. I was so extremely sensitive that every touch set off fireworks against my skin.

“Take me like a good girl,” he said before roughly grabbing my throat. It took him a few minutes to finish himself off, but when he did it was so hot. He didn’t even bother to pull out. He continued to kiss me for a bit before he got up and started to walk towards his bathroom.

“Now, get the hell out of my room, whore.”

I smiled at his lovely term of endearment as I tried to quickly pull my clothing back on. I stood up quickly, and my legs gave out beneath me. Tom laughed as he put on his bathrobe.

“You’re pathetic,” he said while helping me up. Surprisingly enough, he walked me back to my dorm, smiling the entire way. Before he turned to leave he pushed a piece of hair behind my ear.

“Sleep well, darling.” I flashed him a sweet smile.

“You too, Riddle.”

[writethelifeyouwant]

Aversion Therapy

Summary: Y/N has been institutionalised for sex addiction at an experimental facility, run by Dr. Sam Winchester.

Pairing: Doctor!Sam x Reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: Sex addiction, addiction therapies, abuse of therapist/patient relationship, noncon roleplay Tags: hair pulling, crotchless panties, degradation (like, a lot), blow job, spitting, pussy spanking, sex on a desk, body writing, p in v, pulling out Word Count: 4.5 k Created for: @samwinchesterbingo - Doctor!Sam | @spnkinkbingo - Crotchless Panties | @anyfandomgoesbingo - Hair Pulling | @j3bingo - Diary

A/N: So I this may or may not be one of the dirtiest things I've ever written. It's definitely up there in the list 😅I hope you enjoy, fellow sinners!

October 24th

Last night was awesome. He took me out to dinner and everything, real gentleman, even though we both knew that’s not what the night was about. It was sunset when we got up to the lookout, all romantic. I felt silly that he was making such a big deal about it. Losing your virginity shouldn’t be so much pressure. Now it’s over I don’t feel any different except that I want more. We went twice last night but that still wasn’t enough. I touched myself this morning and it was almost like I could still feel him inside of me. I think tonight I’m gonna let him do it without the condom, so he will still be inside me tomorrow morning.

“What the hell are you doing?” you shout, outraged. It wasn’t enough that your parents had locked you in this place, humiliating you, betraying you, handing you over to Doctor Judgy, but they’d handed over your diaries too. Fucking great. Dr. Winchester ignores you and keeps reading, skipping ahead a few weeks.

November 15th

Fuck I love sex. Even with guys that aren’t great at it it’s still worth it just to have a cock inside me. I wish I could stay the night somewhere without my parents freaking out. I want to fall asleep with a cock inside me the whole time, wake up to it fucking me, keeping me open. College is gonna be the best. Then I can finally do what I want, fuck who I want. Can finally order a freaking vibrator without mom asking what’s in the package. Ugh, I can’t wait.

Sam’s voice sounds unnatural reading out your words. He’s not putting the right emotion or inflection in them. It’s like he’s taunting you with them. There’s a trace of humour underlying everything he says.

“Why are you doing this?” you shout again, and Sam looks up at you from your diary, a smug smile on his lips.

“Because you’re sick, Y/N,” he states it like an obvious fact, shutting the diary with a loud clunk and waving it back and forth. “These are the words of an addict.”

“I’m not an addict,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. Sam raises his eyebrows at you and flicks open your diary again, thumbing through to a page he has marked with a turned down corner.

February 3rd

That’s it, I’m addicted to cock. I need it more than coffee or air or food. I just want to be on my knees all day and let men use me. I want them in my mouth, in my pussy, even in my ass, I don’t care. I just want them. One day I’ll figure out how to make that happen.

Sam gives you an accusatory look as he closes the diary again, and you do have the good sense to look a little sheepish. Having your thirsty words read back to you is embarrassing. Especially considering the man reading them out is extremely attractive. If you’d met him when you were out you would have been on him in a heartbeat.

You can’t help it, your eyes drop to his crotch, which is just below your eye level where he’s leaning against the front edge of his desk. Dr. Winchester notices your gaze and smirks down at you knowingly. The expression makes him even hotter – domineering and sexy.

“You really are a little slut. Get carted off to rehab and the first thing you do is eye up your therapist,” he clicks his tongue disappointedly, and you blush for a moment before you decide that you don’t want to take this shit from him.

“So what,” you shrug, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms. Dr. Winchester raises a brow again, surprised by your boldness.

“You don’t think it’s inappropriate to think about your therapist in a sexual manner?” He pushes himself off his desk and settles his hands in his pockets, considering you carefully.

“I like cock, so what?” you say again defiantly. The doctor keeps his expression neutral, walking around his desk and sitting down, grabbing a notepad and scribbling down a few things. You watch him suspiciously, wanting to know what he was writing down. “I’m not crazy, I just really like sex.” Dr. Winchester nods and keeps writing, not looking up at you.

“Come on, are you saying you don’t like sex?” you try to rile him up, and you see a small laugh bleed through his careful exterior, but not the kind of reaction you were hoping for. “What, your manhood not measure up or something?” That gets the doctor’s attention. He shoots you a glare over his desk and puts aside his pen, folding his hands in front of him and staring you down. His eyes drag across you from top to bottom, lingering on your lips, your neck, your cleavage, your legs. You like him looking at you like this, it sends a thrill through your chest, settling in the pit of your stomach.

“I can see that your attitude is going to make traditional therapies somewhat difficult.” You roll your eyes, but let him keep talking. “Have you heard of aversion therapy?” You shake your head shortly. “Aversion therapy is a psychological treatment in which the patient,” Dr. Winchester gestures to you, “is exposed to a stimulus while simultaneously being subjected to some form of discomfort, in an attempt to discourage said behaviour.”

“Um, English, please?” you stare at the doctor blankly, not putting together how this is going to apply to you.

“Well,” Dr. Winchester leans back in his chair, and swings his legs up onto his desk and brings his hands to fold in his lap. It makes him look surprisingly casual - not at all the image you had of doctors and therapists in your mind. “In this case, the stimulus is an unwanted behaviour, your over zealous sexual cravings and actions. We need to introduce an element of discomfort or unpleasantness into your experience of that behaviour, to discourage future indulgences,” he explains.

“What are you gonna do, Doctor?” you sneer at his title. “Put me in an electroshock chair and make me watch porn? Newsflash - that sounds amazing,” you scoff. Honestly, if that’s going to be your therapy, you’ll drop the attitude and sign the fuck up right now.

Dr. Winchester shakes his head, a small smirk on his lips. He stands, removing his jacket and tossing it on the back of the chair, then proceeds to unbutton the cuffs of his sleeves and roll them back, one at a time. You watch him suspiciously. The moment his jacket came off your head went straight to one conclusion, but that couldn’t be right. You find your eyes lingering on his forearms, the veins in them pulsing visibly just below the surface of his skin. You want to lick them.

“No you’re right, you’d enjoy that far too much.” The doctor’s voice brings you back to yourself and you look up, watching him slowly approaching your chair. “We won’t be associating a physical discomfort with the addiction, what we want is to alter your mental associations towards the behaviour. We’ll use a series of mantras, and repetition and after a period of good, focused work, we can start to transition you back to a home environment.” His hand comes up to grip the back of your wooden chair, right beside your ear, and you can feel the heat radiating from his body against your skin despite the several inches still separating you.

Between your legs, you can feel how much Dr. Winchester’s proximity is beginning to affect you. For some reason the way he’s speaking to you, so formal and condescending, is really turning you on. You bet if he knew, he’d just say it was another sign of your “addiction”. You can feel your panties starting to get a little slippery when you shift in your seat to look up at him, and you don’t manage to stifle your small intake of breath when the open crotch of the underwear accidentally catches on one of your pussy lips, sending a delicious tug of pain into your core.

Dr. Winchester smirks down at you, entirely unsubtle, probably assuming that gasp was your reaction to him being so near.

Finally, after far too long staring at him, you manage to take a breath and ask- “what exactly is my therapy going to be, then?” Your voice comes out much higher than you’d anticipated, and you feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

Dr. Winchester’s hand drags along the top of the chair and lands on the back of your neck. You shiver when his skin touches yours, despite its warmth. His fingers wind themselves into your hair a second later and yank hard, pulling your head over the back of the chair so you’re forced to look straight up at him.

“Ow! What the hell?!” You reach behind you to try to break his grip but he just pulls again. The pain sends a new tendril of desire twisting down your spine to between your legs, and you feel your panties getting even wetter. You whimper, your arousal clearly evident to the doctor, who laughs.

“Yeah, I knew you’d be too into pain for that kind of thing to work,” he chuckles darkly. He bends down, face so close to yours you can feel his breath ghost against your cheek. “So here’s what we’re going to do instead. I’m gonna fuck you, but you’re going to make sure you don’t enjoy it. You’re going to cry and yell and beg me to stop.” He practically growls, nose brushing against yours, lips hovering just out of reach.

Your pussy clenches at his words, aroused beyond belief at the disdain he’s treating you with. You struggle against his grip deliberately, relishing in the renewed sting as his hand pulls your hair even tighter to keep you still.

“You really don’t get it, do you Dr. Winchester,” you try to laugh but your throat is taut and your air isn’t quite flowing easily enough to let you. “I like cock. I wanted you to fuck me the second I saw you. There’s nothing you could say or do that would make me want you to stop.”

“I think we can drop the formalities now,” he releases you, standing up and reaching for his belt. “It’s Sam, not ‘Doctor Winchester’.”

Your eyes drop to his hands immediately, watching his fingers deftly push his button through its hole and pull down his zip. He’s already hard, you can tell by the tent in his boxers, but you’re astonished to see when he pulls himself out that he’s actually only semi hard – his cock is just huge. You feel your mouth and your pussy water in equal measure.

“Fuck,” you whisper as he starts to stroke himself, eyes tracing up and down your body hungrily as he does so.

“You want this cock, Y/N?” he asks pointedly, and you nod mutely. “Use your words then.”

“Yes,” you breathe instantly, dropping to your knees on the hard, grey carpet in front of him.

“Then you don’t get it,” Sam smirked, contradictorily walking himself closer to you as he speaks, hand still pumping his cock.

“Please?” you beg, hoping that’s the game he’s trying to play. Maybe he thinks he can humiliate you enough that you won’t want to repeat the experience – he’s going to be wrong.

“Nope.” Sam pops the ‘p’ on the word teasingly. “Your mantra for today is ‘no’.”

“What?” you look up to him, confused.

“Anytime I ask you if this is what you want – if you want my cock in your mouth, in your pussy, anywhere I want to put it – anytime I ask you if you want it, you have to say ‘no’,” he smiles down at you like some kind of evil genius, and you’re getting annoyed now that you find this so fucking hot.

“You want me to pretend you’re raping me? Sounds like you need therapy.” Sam laughs, not at all offended by your jab.

“We’re trying to condition a new response, Y/N,” he explains lightly, still jacking himself off maddeningly close to your lips. It takes every ounce of self control you have not to lean forward and suck him down on the spot. “If you want my cock inside you, then you have to tell me you don’t. And hopefully, with time, you’ll start to believe what you’re saying out loud. You’ll believe that you don’t need this, don’t want this.” He taps his cock against your lips and your tongue chases him immediately, reaching for a taste of the liquid you felt pooling on his tip.

“Uh, uh, uh,” he pulls himself away, tutting. “What do you say, Y/N?”

You swallow your pride and give him what he’s asking, though begrudgingly.

“No, please, don’t.” Your voice is monotone, lifeless – like how you used to read out loud in English class when the teacher called on you.

“C’mon, you know that’s not good enough. How are you going to believe yourself if I don’t believe you?” Sam walks closer again and sets his cock against your mouth lightly. “You wanna suck my cock, baby?”

“No,” you manage to choke out, and your hesitance to say the word must sound like hesitance to give him a blow job because Sam buys it, and the next moment he’s pushing the shiny, pink head past your lips, against your tongue; not stopping until he hits the top of your throat. He pulls back again, taking himself completely out of your mouth.

“You want it?” he asks again, grinning down at you.

“No,” you whimper, while inside every fibre of your body is screaming – yes!

“Good girl,” he groans as he pushes himself back inside, and you moan along with him. This time he doesn’t stop himself, fucking all the way into your throat until your nose is pressed against the skin of his stomach. “Fuck, you really are a cockslut,” Sam grunts above you, pulling back a little and starting to fuck your mouth in earnest. “You haven’t gagged once. Not many girls manage that with me.”

You believe him. Your jaw is already aching from the stretch of your lips around his girth but you savour the hurt. You love this; being on your knees for some guy you barely know with his cock shoved as far in as he can fit it. This is what you were made for, you know it, no matter how hard Sam’s going to try to talk you out of it.

He fucks your throat for a few more minutes, lulling you into a false sense of security. You’ve relaxed into it now, and you aren’t thinking about the therapy or the role play or any of it, you’re only thinking about his cock against your tongue, heavy and velvety and perfect. You cry out when he pulls away, taking in a shocked breath at the sudden emptiness.

“You want it back baby girl?” Sam asks breathlessly, and you allow yourself a moment to feel smug at how clearly affected he is by your ministrations.

“Please,” you beg, crawling towards him, forgetting your lines. Sam pulls away, disappointment evident on his face.

“Wrong answer, Y/N.”

“No!” you shout hoarsely, trying to correct yourself. “I mean no, please, no.”

“No,” Sam sucks in a breath, reaching to pull up his trousers like he’s going to put himself away. “No, I don’t think I believe you.”

“No, Sam, please!” you beg, reaching out for him. “I can do this,” you whisper, and Sam lets you take his cock in your hand, wrapping his fingers over yours and guiding your strokes. “Ask me again?”

“Do you want my cock, Y/N?” Sam raises an eyebrow.

“No,” you say firmly. “No, don’t make me do this.”

“Good girl,” he says again, his hand tightening over yours and using you to jerk himself off. “Do you want my cock, Y/N?”

“No,” you whine, trying to play into it even though your fingers start trying to jack him off faster of their own accord, your hands slipping together over the saliva you’d left behind.

“Do you want my cock in your pussy?” Sam growls, reaching his free hand out to snag your hair and pulling hard, causing you to shout out in delicious pain.

“No!” you squeal, trying to pull out of his hold, hoping you can act your way through this convincingly enough to get what you really want.

“No, whore?” Sam spits on you harshly, the wet striking you on the cheek and dripping down your chin.

“No,” you scream again as he pulls you off of the ground by your hair, throwing you forwards over his desk. Books and pads of paper go crashing to the ground. Pens scatter around you when your elbow hits the mug that was holding dozens of them.

“No?” you hear Sam scoff as he flips up the hem of your patient-issued uniform skirt, spotting the pair of crotchless panties you’re wearing beneath. “You’re telling me a slut like you, who gets put in an insititution for sex addiction, and decides to pack crotchless fucking panties, doesn’t want my cock stuffing her cunt full?”

“No, I don’t want it,” you moan, his words positively setting you on fire. Fuck, you want everything he’s saying and more.

“I don’t fucking believe you,” Sam spits between your legs, adding to the slick that must be visibly gathered there by now.

“No!” you cry out when he delivers a stinging blow to your pussy, palm landing right over the open slit of your panties. “No,” you sob out again as he continues to spank you, each hit making a sickly wet echo and sending a jolt of heat through your clit every time his fingers happen to catch it. “No, no, no,” you’re begging, even as you spread your legs wider and push your hips back into his hand, trying to angle yourself so he hits your small bundle of nerves more frequently.

“You’re fucking loving this aren’t you,” Sam is seething behind you. “I can feel how wet you are, you fucking whore. You want my cock now, huh? Want me to put all this slick to good use?” He dips his fingers into the crotch of your panties and comes away with his fingers drenched in your juices, which you see a moment later when he shoves them in your face, yanking you back by your hair again.

“See this slut? See how I can tell you’re lying to me? What’s all this for if it’s not to get you ready for my cock?”

“N–” you try to protest, needing him to believe you if you want to actually feel his cock inside you, but your words are cut off as he shoves his fingers into your mouth, making you lick yourself off his hand.

“That’s right, taste what a fucking embarrassment you are.” Sam lets go of your hair and from the corner of your eye you see his fingers reaching for one of the pens that you knocked onto the desk earlier. Pulling his fingers out of your mouth, he uncaps the pen and crouches down behind you, putting your pussy at eye level for him.

“I think we should let the world know just how much of a slut you really are.” You wonder what he means, feeling him draw a single line down your right buttock, then switching to your left and writing some words. “Now anyone who fucks you is gonna see my instructions, and know they have to leave a tally mark right here.” He slaps your ass hard where he had just drawn his own. “And every time you come back to me for a session with more tallies than you left with the last time I saw you, that’s just one more time you’re gonna have to go through this with me. To make sure we really break you out of this habit.”

You silently wonder how many guys there are in this hospital that you might want to fuck. He spanks you again and you clench, pussy convulsing at the threat and the thought of men keeping count of the cocks you’ve taken by literally writing it on your body. You feel a trickle of slick start to make its way down your thigh, and you know Sam must have noticed because he laughs darkly.

“You like the sound of that, don’t you? Are you already planning how to rack up your score as soon as I let you out of this office?” he sneers vehemently.

“No,” you shake your head, even though it’s entirely true. “No, I don’t want that, I promise, I don’t.”

“But you still want my cock?” Sam questions, and you feel the tip of his dick start to drag against you, up and down the slit of your panties.

“No, I don’t want it,” you insist, trying to keep yourself from pushing back onto him.

“Good girl, Y/N,” Sam pets at your lower back and braces himself as he starts to sink in. You both moan when he enters you, but to your chagrin he stops when he only has an inch or so inside. “You want me to keep going?” he pants, and you’re pleased to hear that he’s not as composed now that he’s got the head of his cock wedged between your legs.

“No,” you shake your head quickly, silently praying for him to continue.

“Very good,” he groans, and begins to thrust into you again; tiny, sharp motions to ease himself into you bit by bit.

“No, stop,” you whine without prompting, hoping to encourage him to go faster. He does. “No, no, no,” you chant until he’s sheathed himself completely inside you, his hips pressed firmly into yours, his hands squeezing around your waist possessively.

“No?” Sam asks teasingly, pulling out a little.

“No!” you cry again, and this time you do mean ‘no’ – you don’t want him to leave you. At your cry Sam pushes back in harshly, snapping his hips back against yours and moaning, the sound bubbling up deep from his chest. “No,” you try repeating the phrase, testing your theory, and you’re rewarded by Sam withdrawing and fucking back into you piercingly.

“Please stop, please,” you whimper, not able to stop yourself from rocking back into his thrusts as Sam starts a punishing pace.

“You fucking liar, you love this you little cockslut,” Sam grunts pointedly, taunting you.

“No,” you insist, still meeting him thrust for thrust. “No I don’t want this, I don’t want you!”

“You’re always going to want cock, always gonna beg for it.”

“No!”

“You want me to stuff you full everyday don’t you? Maybe more than that. I bet you’d sit under my desk all day with my cock in your mouth if I told you to,” he laughs, his harsh pace becoming even quicker. He’s not fucking you deeply now but that means that every time he pushes in the head of his cock punches hard against the sweet spot on the front of your pussy, making you clench around him.

“No,” you shudder, feeling yourself close to the brink of your release, and you wonder what he’ll do when you cum – a clear demonstration that you’re fucking loving this, despite what you’re saying out loud.

“Say it louder, bitch,” he grunts, reaching down and spanking hard against your clit.

“No, no, stop!” you shout, desperately trying to fuck yourself on his cock, your orgasm just out of reach.

“You want to cum on my cock?” Sam slaps you again but then starts to rub tiny circles just where you need them.

“N–no,” you stutter, unable to hold back your moan.

“You don’t want to cum baby, you sure?” he teases, angling his hips so he’s fucking your sweet spot with each drive into you.

“No,” you whine, voice pitching higher as you feel yourself right there.

“No?” You can hear from Sam’s voice that he’s pouting at you, mocking you. “You don’t want to cum baby? Not gonna cum on my big, fat cock fucking you so good?” You clench around him, your toes curling, straining… “Come on you little slut, fucking cum already. Thought whores like you were supposed to be easy? Huh? Want you to cum for me, Y/N.”

“No, no, no, no, no–” you lose track of what you’re saying as you cum, screaming into your arm so you don’t accidentally say something to make Sam stop fucking you. Thankfully, he doesn’t stop. He fucks you through your orgasm and your come down, hips snapping more and more erratically as you bury your face in his desk and try to catch your breath.

Suddenly, the weight of his body is gone, and then there’s a warm jolt between your legs, and you know he’s cumming – aiming his load at the top of your panties and letting it drip down through the open crotch. You moan high in your throat at the feeling of his release soaking into your underwear, mixing with your own juices, which are already leaking out of you and dripping onto his desk.

“That was a really good session, Y/N,” Sam says, and you’re surprised to hear how composed he sounds, though a little breathless. “I think this is going to be a good strategy for you.” He walks around to the other side of his desk and starts to pick up the books and papers you’d knocked down earlier.

Slowly, you peel yourself up off his desktop, your skin sticking to the surface with sweat that’s already started to dry.

“Go clean yourself up, Y/N,” Sam instructs, not looking at you as he continues to tidy his desk. You turn to go, still in your post-orgasmic daze, but you spin back around when Sam calls your name again. “Oh, and Y/N?” you look at him curiously, and a smirk curls slowly across his lips as you watch. “You better keep the tally marks, or there’ll be consequences next session.”

“Yes, Dr. Winchester,” you agree quietly and slip out of his office into the hallway, walking back to your room behind an orderly, with Sam’s cum still dripping down your thighs. You think about the tally he’d left on your body, and you look up at the orderly, who’s now stopped at the door to your room and holding it open for you.

As you pass him, you keep your eyes trained at the ground, and glance sideways to surreptitiously inspect the man next to you. The hospital scrubs do nothing to hide his endowment. You smile brightly, bringing your eyes up the rest of his body, taking in the muscles in his arms and the name tag on his chest, before landing on his face.

“Thanks, Dean.” You walk into your room, eyes flicking back to see Dean still standing there, watching you walk towards your bed. You bend over to grab something off the bottom shelf of your nightstand, not caring what you grab, just knowing that you’re now giving Dean a full display of your ass – Sam’s writing and Sam’s cum decorating your skin.

The door behind you shuts quietly.

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[pedrosbish]

let me kiss the scars that litter your skin

warnings: slight angst but fluff

word count: 1.2k

A/N: I’m back! I know this isn't anything to do with pedro’s characters but I wanted to practice writing before continuing with the king series and I recently started watching The Punisher so I now have another sad boi to write about

Frank Castle is an enigma and would always remain an enigma to you. 

When the two of you had first met it had been an honest mistake. He had collapsed in front of his apartment door which just so happened to be opposite from yours, the newest wounds leaving a deep ache in his bones and the blood began seeping through the dark shirt he wore, his face clammy as you pressed your hand to it. 

It had taken you a couple of minutes to throw your shopping bags into the hallway of your apartment, the carton of milk falling over and draining onto your wooden floor, entering the cracks which your landlord would definitely not like. You didn't have it in your heart to care, however, not when you attempted to lug the burly man through your door, his blood staining your blouse. 

It had taken a couple tries to get him onto your couch, his legs dangling over the arm-rest and his head lulling to the side as you quickly retrieved the necessary items to stitch him back up. When you had finally worked up the courage to peer underneath his shirt at the damage, the acidic feeling of bile worked its way up your throat at the sight of blood steadily pouring out of the numerous wounds littering his skin. 

You had pushed through it, the shake in your hands disappearing as you began to work. Disinfect the cut with your good bottle of whiskey. Swallow harshly at the unwelcoming sign of bile rising in your throat. Deep breaths as you slowly stitch the wound. 

This was the process you adopted and used to this day whenever the mysterious Frank Castle arrived at your door, either collapsed outside of it or on the verge of passing out and leaning heavily against the door with a barely-there smile on his face. It hadn't taken you long to figure out that he was The Punisher, the vigilante on a quest for vengeance. 

He never spoke in full sentences, only grunts or one word answers when you scolded him for getting hurt again or asking what had happened. You knew why he did what he did, hell, you probably would do the same thing if something like that had happened to your family. 

It hurt you to see him this way, his eyes unfocused and looking past your shoulder as you carefully stitched him up, hand gently tracing the other scars present on his skin when you had finished patching up the new ones. 

You wanted to ask him about them, the faded white lines, some big and some small, telling thousands of stories about what he had gone through before all of this happened to him and what was happening to him right now. 

You finally had the opportunity to do that. 

Somewhere along the lines, the two of you had developed some sort of relationship, the term a loose thing for what was occurring between you. Most nights he would stay longer than he had to after you had stitched up his freshest injuries, passing the open bottle of alcohol you usually gave him to help with the pain until one of you had made the first move. 

Hungry and desperate lips pressing against each other, hand combing through the short strands of his hair as he squeezed the hands on your waist lightly, pulling you closer before separating long enough to lift off both your shirts. You had lost count of the number of places he had taken you. The counter in your kitchen, the couch, against the wall of your living room, the shower, your bed. 

You had always expected him to leave after having his fill, the leftover adrenaline disappearing from his system, but he had surprised you by staying, voice hoarse as he asked you if you needed anything from the kitchen as he sat on the edge of your bed and put his underwear back on. 

It had become a routine for the both of you. Fix him up, fuck each other, then lay in bed next to one another, the streetlight from outside your window casting the room in a hazy light. The silence that enveloped the room was peaceful, a time for you to close your eyes at the heat radiating off of him and a time for him to accept that he is capable of this feeling inside of him again, one that he hasn't felt since the loss of his wife. 

The eleventh time (not that you're keeping track) he actually stays until morning, the soft sunlight breaking through your curtains and painting him in a peaceful manner, his face relaxed but his fingers twitching at they rest beside him. 

Eyes tracing over the skin that's not covered by the bed sheet gives you the time to examine scars covering his skin, some of them jagged white lines and others a light pink, the tell-tale sign of their freshness. Your hand slowly follows the path of your eyes, fingers oh so softly tracing over them, only stopping when he stirs slightly. 

You lean forward, eyes quickly glancing up at his face, before pressing your lips softly against a scar that sits on his collar bone, the faint white line making your eyes grow misty. He had only told you some of the stories that lay behind the various injuries on his skin, the only real time he allowed himself to be vulnerable with you. There never is enough time to tell all the stories. 

Tilting your head up to the left, you press another kiss to a deeper one, this time fresher than the others, that sits above his heart. That night had been the worst, the blood continuously pumping between your fingers as you tried to focus on fixing him, your hands shaking as you tried not to focus on the fact that he could possibly die on you. 

“What’s wrong?”

His voice is croaky with sleep but his eyes are wide, alert, as he slowly begins to sit up until you press your hand down on his chest. Your eyes close tightly when his hand comes up to softly wipe the tears wetting your cheeks, thumb stroking back and forth. 

You look up at him, his face blurred in your vision as your palm presses harder against his chest, the steady beat of his heart sounding through the skin and you feel like you can breathe easier knowing that he is alive and with you. For now at least. 

“I-I can't lose you, Frank.” Your voice sounds foreign to your own ears, so thick with an emotion you can say for certain you have never felt with anyone else and his hand comes up to lay on top of yours, fingers squeezing yours. “I can't lose you.”

He swallows thickly, leaning his head down against yours and the two of you close your eyes, trying to savour the moment. Moving slightly away from you, he places a soft kiss to your forehead. 

“I know,” he whispers against your skin. “I know.” 

[whump-a-la-mode]

Ok so I had a prompt idea? We’re all familiar with the “villain is sent to a ‘rehabilitation center’ that turns out to be secretly torturing the villains there” trope, but consider this: scared villain is captured by a kind hero and sent to a villain rehabilitation center, and villain has never experienced such warmth and kindness! Not to mention frequent visits from hero to check up/see how they’re doing. Maybe it’s no good but just a thought I had; I love your writing so much!! 💛🌼

(No pressure though, I know you’re probably busy!)

Oh, I absolutely love this prompt! Evil rehab centers are all well and good, but I’d never thought of one as being a source of comfort. I hope you like this! I was going to do some more with it, but it was already running a little long ^^

Thanks so much for the prompt!

CW//Arson, burning buildings, smoke inhalation, fear of death, gross food, mentions of torture, animal disease

As though singed by smoke, Villain’s lungs burned.

Even as they gasped, they felt as though they could not inhale a single breath. Yet, somehow, they had enough air to keep going.

It wasn’t as though they had a choice.

They were unsure, at that point, if their legs were truly moving at all. They had lost feeling in them far too long ago to be able to verify such a thing. Somehow, though, they were moving forward. Even if they wanted to, they didn’t know if they could stop, with momentum pushing them as it was.

Everything was riding on this. Days of keeping ahead, of leading the chase. If they stopped moving for just a moment, it would all be wasted.

And their life would be over. If they stopped running now, there would be no Villain left.

In that instant, they understood what it was to be a rabbit. When there was a fox on your tail, there were no do overs. No second chances. It was run or die.

As long as they could, they were going to run.

Villain couldn’t remember the name of the building in which they had managed to find the briefest of respites. Despite its sprawling size, there was nothing truly remarkable about it. Perhaps it did not have a name in the first place. At some point, it had been some sort of industrial complex-- the home of half a dozen separate companies, each clashing and butting up against one another.

Yet, the structure had long since been left to rot. They had a feeling that mold clinging to every corner had something to do with that.

Just a week ago, they would never have dreamed of so much as going someplace like this. The air smelled rotten, and breathing it left a sour taste sticking to their tongue. Not to mention the fact that several animals of varying size and danger had already claimed the rotten complex as their home.

But, they weren’t the same Villain they had been a week ago. Stumbling upon the building had felt like a gift from above, and, the night prior, they’d managed to get some honest-to-god rest among its sodden carpeting.

It was the most rest they’d gotten in days, despite the fact that, halfway through it, they’d awoken to a diseased rat with its teeth buried in their forearm. They’d had worse awakenings.

After shooing away the animal, they’d managed to sleep an hour or so more. Then came the worse of their two awakenings, that night.

The shouting voices of heroes.

Villain didn’t know how they’d found them. There was no trace, no trail. They had no vehicle-- instead moving through the woods on foot. ‘On foot’ was quite literal in that instance, considering the fact that they’d lost their shoes three days ago to a patch of quickmud.

But, still, they’d been found.

They didn’t no how long ago it was, that they’d been awakened by those voices. With the darkened building’s clocks hanging stubbornly on the wrong minute and hour, there was no way to tell how long it had been.

How long they’d been running...

Villain skidded around a corner, hissing as their foot caught on an uprooted carpet tack. Had they been this way before? It was impossible to tell-- all the halls looked the same.

The halls repeated, just as the heroes’ footsteps did.

How were they not tired?

Maybe because they’d eaten. And slept. And had water.

Villain had found that stream the other day, though...

Everything about them seemed to be repeating. The walls. The footsteps.

The lies of the heroes.

“Just stop running! We don’t want to hurt you!”

They couldn’t count just how many times they’d heard those words. Lies. Of course they were lies! Or, perhaps, it was their own sick attempt at a joke. We don’t want to hurt you, we just want to kill you!

Villain wasn’t ready to die. Not just yet.

Another corner was taken with haste, and their nostrils were overwhelmed with the scents of rust and oil.

The garage was massive-- reaching further upwards than the shreds of sunlight filtering through dusty windows could reach with their furthest rays. Its concrete floor stretched out, seemingly, all the way to the horizon-- dotted only by support beams, and whatever scattered machinery and supplies the company had not deemed valuable enough to bring along.

The source of the scent of gasoline was quite rapidly made apart. Stacked haphazardly in the corner, red gas containers stood. Their reek alone made it well known that they were far from empty.

But the gas was far from Villain’s main concern regarding the garage.

In the past few days, they had become awfully good at finding exits. It was with a ruthless instinct that they scanned the room for one.

But, in the end, they reached a terrifying conclusion.

There was one exit. It was the same door as the entrance. The garage doors on the other side of the chamber had long since been chained shut, and there was no time for lockpicking.

The heroes flooded in.

It was with an exhausted hopelessness and steadfast stubbornness that they kept running forth. Of course, with their terrible luck, they did not make it very far. A rebar pipe caught their toes, sending them sprawling onto the concrete, pain shrieking from a thousand different, tiny wounds.

For a few seconds, Villain let themself breathe. They figured that, at the very least, they should let themself enjoy their last moments alive.

Their relaxation did not last long. They refused to die laying down. Trembling from exhaustion, pain, starvation, dehydration, and terror, all at once, they staggered to their feet. For a moment, their vision blurred, before solidifying once more.

Half a dozen heroes fanned out before the entrance, guarding it ruthlessly. Faux looks of concern painted their countenances.

From the array of aches and pains swarming Villain, a single one, all at once, made itself known. Something pressing up against their leg.

Their lighter.

Their trembling gaze flicked to the pile of glimmering red gas cans. It was behind them-- only a few steps back. If they could just...

“Villain!” The person in the front of the group called out-- Hero. “There’s nowhere else to go. It’s okay. Everything’s okay. You just need to come with us. You can’t survive like this much longer, you know that!”

No. What they couldn’t survive was the heroes.

But, they didn’t have to.

Villain took a step back, inching towards the pile.

“Come on, buddy!” Another hero called. “What are you so afraid of?”

It was the heroes who should be afraid. Another step back.

“There’s nowhere to run, Villain.” Hero spoke once more. “Just come with us. No harm will come to you, I swear to it.”

No.

Villain wasn’t ready to die. Not today.

They took the final step, until they were mere inches from the pile. With a well-placed kick, and a horrible clattering, the cans toppled from their precarious pyramid. The reek of gas grew tenfold as brown liquid spilled out, onto the concrete below.

Stepping back from the gasoline-- they were ready to go, not just yet-- they reached into their pocket. The heroes had no time to identify the object they pulled out. By the time they realized what had happened, the lighter had already been thrown.

The flame leapt into the air with such force that Villain was thrown back, tossed to the concrete like a ragdoll.

The faux compassion on the heroes faces turned to an emotion that was very, very real.

Fear.

Spreading so fast that its growth could be heard, the inferno pounced, grabbing onto the base of a wooden support beam and licking its way upwards.

“Everyone!” Hero shouted-- terror in their voice overpowered by sheer determination. “Get out! This building’s not stable.”

“W-what about you?”

“If I’m not out within five minutes, send someone in after me.”

“Are you certain?”

“We’re heroes. And, sometimes, that means saving villains, too.”

Despite their clear reluctance, the other heroes, one by one, nodded, allowing their terror to spur them to flee.

When the last of them was gone, only two remained in the garage. The villain and the hero.

Villain looked upwards, watching as the flame reached the top of the support beam and rippled onto the ceiling.

There were only two ways this could end. They knew that.

Either Hero lost their nerve and fled, allowing their prey to escape, or they both perished in the flames.

No matter which came to pass, there was only one thing that mattered:

They would not die by the hands of a hero.

“You’re scared.” Hero began. Another stupid speech. “I know. I know you’re scared. This last week has been hell for you, I know that. But it doesn’t have to go down like this. You can still make the right choice. 

Please. Come with me. I don’t want to hurt you. Believe it or not, I don’t want you to die!”

“You’re a bad liar, you know.” They croaked.

Villain’s lungs were already torn from gasping. The slowly-rising smoke only served to salt their wounds.

Before them, a flaming ceiling tile fell, spraying them with embers.

“You don’t want this! I know you don’t! You don’t want to die!”

“Why do you think I’m doing this?! Of course I don’t want to die, you fucking idiot!”

“Then come with me!”

“It’s like you don’t even hear yourself.”

The building shuddered as a support beam splintered and collapsed. The force of it sent Villain, once again, to the concrete, bathing their face in smoke. As they scrambled to their hands and knees, they could not help but let out a shuddering cough.

“Villain! Watch out!”

“Wh-”

The ceiling tile struck their head, burying them under its accompanying rubble.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Warmth... and music.

They awoke to warmth, and music.

The first of the two came in the form of something soft, heavy, enveloping them, making them feel as though they were buried within a cloud. The music, too, seemed to surround them-- there were no words to it, just the soft, lulling tone of a piano, accompanied by the occasional splash of waves.

It was confusion that first whispered to Villain, when their leaden eyelids at last agreed to open. Above them sat an off-white sky, stretching out to meet with a light blue wall. They blinked once more.

Where...

The chase the heroes the running the building the gas the fire the rubble the-

Villain jolted upright, tossing off of themself a heavy, fleece blanket. Trembling fingers gripped the mattress below them as they scanned the world around, instincts kicking in, searching frantically for an exit.

The room was small, walls colored a soft, baby blue, and lit by a pair of lamps with warm, orange bulbs. The few items of furniture were made of a light brown wood-- three small nightstands, two in corners, and one next to the bed in which Villain lay.

Next to one of the stands was placed a small writing desk and chair, while the other was accompanied by a potted plant, petals just starting to emerge from its buds. Embedded in one wall, a window stood, a small radio perched upon its sill.

The door was at the room’s far end, next to their bed. A wooden door with brass handle-- easy to break down.

But guarded.

Before the door, a figure stood-- a person dressed in a bright flannel, from the breast pocket of which stuck an overabundance of pens.

They did not look particularly strong, but, then again, neither did Villain. At the sound of their movement, the figure turned to face them, a smile growing upon their round face.

“I didn’t even notice you waking up.” They hummed. “Good morning.”

There were two options for escape: The door or the window. Neither was particularly desirable, but they had to choose one...

“Hey, buddy.” The stranger’s voice felt almost as warm as the fleece blanket. “You’re looking a bit like a deer in the headlights, there. I’m sure this is all a bit overwhelming, and I’m sure you’re pretty confused. I’d be confused too, trust me.”

No. There was no confusion in Villain’s mind. They were focused on one thing, the only thing that mattered: Getting out of here!

The flannel-wearing figure took a few steps towards the bed. In instinctual panic, the villain scrambled to their hands and knees, shuffling backwards until their spine was flush with the headboard.

“Hey, hey, shhh.” They hushed. “I’m sorry I scared you. I’ll stay right back here, okay?”

“L-Let me out of here!”

The figure frowned.

“Bud, I’m not sure that you’d last another day out there. Not in the state Hero found you in.”

Hero. Of course they were working for Hero.

“I’ll explain everything, alright bud? But let’s just start here. My name’s Doctor. What’s yours?”

Villain only then noticed that they were shaking like a leaf. Whatever this method of torture or interrogation or whatever it is was, they wanted no part in it. They just wanted to go home! To get out! Warm bed or not, this was a prison. They were sure of it.

But, the bed was comfortable, and there wasn’t a single rat in sight...

“How about this...” Doctor coaxed. “You tell me your name, and I’ll tell you what’s going on, okay?”

A trade. Information for information.

Was it worth it? They supposed there was little use in lying.

“V-Villain. My name’s Villain.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Villain.”

“Now, wh-what is this p-place?”

Doctor nodded.

“This is the Supervillain Memorial Villainous Recovery Center. We’re in the city, right by the river. Next to the botanical gardens, if you know where that is.”

They were really telling them the location of their prison? Surely it would have been better to keep such a thing secret. That is, assuming they were telling the truth.

“I believe you’ve been asleep for about... seventeen hours.” Doctor glanced to their watch. “Yep, just about. You’ve been here for maybe half that time. After you got caught in the fire, Hero brought you to the hospital. They bandaged your wounds and brought you here. I hope you slept well.”

Villain almost laughed at that, before a realization struck them. They had slept well. Sure, remnants of the specter of fatigue still haunted them, but for the first time in days, they felt awake enough to think clearly.

But, this was still a prison.

Right?

Prisons didn’t usually have soft beds and fleece blankets, but...

No. It was a trick. This was a prison, and they were a prisoner.

“Let me go.” Villain insisted, though it was halfhearted. “Y-You can’t keep me here! I’m leaving. I need to leave!”

Doctor frowned again, biting their lower lip.

“I’m sorry, Villain, but for now, you’re going to have to stay here. But, I promise, you’ll like it here.” They sighed. “I know you’re scared, and confused, and a thousand other things. But, here, you’re safe. There’s other people here-- quite a few of them, in fact. And, at one point, they were all like you. But ask any one of them. This is the best place for you to be.”

Other people?

“Where are they? W-What are you doing to them?!”

Doctor smiled.

“They’re in our main wing, right now. I believe everyone is eating lunch right about now. I don’t know about you, but where I come from, lunch isn’t a form of torture.”

Villain pursed their lips.

“Then, where am I?”

“This is our arrivals wing. You’re going to stay here, for a few days. Until you’re comfortable, and we can make sure all that smoke is out of your lungs. Then you can join in with everyone else. I’m gonna move over to the side of the bed now, okay? I won’t touch you.”

Even with the warning, Villain couldn’t help but flinch as Doctor approached. They moved to the nightstand at the bed’s side, plucking a small, red box from its surface.

“Hero told me to give this to you, when you got up. It’s not exactly the most nutritious thing to start your day off with, but I think you deserve something tasty.”

They offered the box. After a moment of hesitance, Villain snapped it from their hands, drawing it close to their chest. Was it a threat? Some kind of warning? Morbid curiosity took hold of them, prompting them to open the box’s lid.

Chocolates.

A dozen chocolates, laid out in the design of a star.

“I can eat these?”

“Go ahead.”

Without hesitance, this time, they popped one of the candy pieces into their mouth. Its flavor overwhelmed them, strong enough to nearly knock them over. It’d been days since they’d eaten anything that didn’t come off a bush or from the dumpster.

“Um...” Villain looked back up, closing the box. “So, when are you going to kill me?”

Doctor laughed.

“Hero will be visiting tomorrow. With how long they can talk for, I think you’re only in danger of dying of boredom.”

This was a prison. Of course it was.

Yet, as they glanced down at the box of chocolates, they could not help but forget all thought of panic and escape.