#bones really stepped up their game from the last movie

[peachsukii]

My Hero movie fit & spoils. 💕

[shockercoco]

What Were You Thinking

Austin Butler x reader

Warnings - none, fluff

Word count - 2849

a/n - I watched The Bikeriders, so now i'm ready for the benny imagines. Also, I gotta step up my writing game. I hope you enjoy :)

Of course you’re not ignoring him. You haven’t talked to him and you haven’t answered any of his messages or calls, but that doesn’t mean you’re ignoring him, right? Well, maybe.

A couple of nights ago, you and Austin shared a moment after dinner with some crew members and, ever since then you’ve been casually avoiding him. He had been on his way out of the hotel to take a late night stroll to clear his head and asked you if you would like to join him. Thinking nothing of it and needing a release as well, you accepted his offer.

The two of you ended up on the roof of the hotel since no one would be able to find you two there, and after talking for a bit about whatever came to mind, you both just stood in silence as you looked out at the city.

You don’t remember exactly how it happened, but one moment Austin had begun to confess his growing feelings towards you, and then the next the two of you were kissing. It wasn’t a complete surprise because the two of you have grown closer and closer throughout the duration of filming, and you felt some tension between you guys, but you thought you were just being delusional.

Now, it’s not like you didn’t feel the same way towards him because you did – he had you hooked from the moment you first met him – you supposed you just didn’t expect this moment to ever happen. And it’s not like the kiss wasn’t great, Austin was gentle and you felt so safe in his arms – not like you had a list of experiences to compare it to.

When the two of you parted ways for the night, you were on good terms, but when you woke up the next morning everything hit you. Your mind started to race as you began to wonder if Austin had regretted the kiss, or if he had had too much to drink last night which resulted in his confession, or maybe you were just getting pranked.

Then you remembered that Austin isn’t one to drink until getting drunk, and he isn’t a huge fan of pranks, meaning that everything that had happened the night before was real. This didn’t make you feel better at all, though. 

You didn’t have to see him that day because you had a flight to catch your next destination of the press tour, and Austin had some talk show to attend meaning he would be on a later flight. That didn’t stop him from reaching out to you, though, and in the beginning you were texting him back, but then you panicked and stopped.

You had told your assistant everything that had happened since you felt so confused, but she didn’t really say anything except how she knew it all along and how you shouldn’t be worried because Austin was the one to confess his feelings first. 

This didn’t make you feel better either.

You can’t stay away from him forever though because now you’re about to attend your movie premiere in Sydney, which means you have to see him during pictures and the interviews.

Your assistant walks in on you pacing around your hotel room and asks, “Do you need a paper bag to breathe into?”

You stop your pacing to glare at her and say, “You’re not funny.” You decide to look out of the window to distract yourself, only to notice the drops of rain beginning to fall from the sky. 

Great.

“I don’t understand what you’re so worried about, it’s just Austin,” your assistant tells you.

“You mean the guy I made out with and then completely avoided him after? What the hell am I supposed to say to him?” you ask, about to run a hand over your face until you remember the full face of makeup you have on.

“How about a ‘hi’. You’re making this way harder than it has to be, y’know. It’s not like he’s going to be mad at you, I don’t even think he has an angry bone in his body,” your assistant laughs. “Now, can you please finish sulking? The car is waiting downstairs.”

You roll your eyes as you step away from the window and give yourself one last final look in the mirror. You can’t deny the fact that your dress is gorgeous, along with your hair and makeup, making you feel confident and prepared for the dozens of pictures you're about to take.

Your assistant comes up to stand behind you as well, giving you a once-over with a smile. “You look amazing, and I know Austin will feel the same.”

When you arrive at the theatre, there are dozens of fans standing along the barricade waiting for cast members to come over and say hello to them and sign autographs. As you step out of the vehicle, with the help of your driver offering his hand, you notice Austin immediately as he moves down the long line of fans to sign whatever they hand him.

His assistant and publicist are behind him trying to keep an umbrella over his head, but Austin being Austin doesn’t care about the rain messing up his styled hair or his fancy suit and continues to hold conversations as best as he can. That doesn’t stop his team from surrounding him and trying to keep him looking nice for everyone.

You, on the other hand, would like to stay as dry as possible.

The volume of the crowd suddenly rises as everyone notices your arrival, making Austin turn around. His eyes meet yours and for a second you freeze and don’t know what to do. The weather has made him look even better, if that’s even possible, and the wet hair definitely does something to you.

After taking a moment, you finally snap out of it and give him a small smile, which he returns before continuing your walk.

Austin watches from his spot as you walk away, your back towards him. He can’t help but admire and appreciate your appearance, and he can’t wait to tell you how beautiful you are. 

That is, if you actually come near him. He’s not completely offended that you’ve gone distant from him over the last couple of days, but he is confused. He knows his feelings for you are reciprocated, so he’s just guessing and hoping that you freaked out over everything.

Austin gets lost in thought for a second before he hears the girl next to him giggle to her friend because they obviously witnessed the whole thing. He clears his throat before smiling at her and signing the action figure of one of his past characters that she hands him. A laugh leaves his lips at the fact that the thing even exists.

Once you meet some fans yourself, it’s time for the interview and photographs part of the premiere, which you’re not completely looking forward to. Austin comes up beside you as you pose in front of the backdrop for the paparazzi and places a hand on your waist.

Under any other circumstances, his touch wouldn’t be bothering you since this isn’t anything new, but now you’re just finding it distracting. His cologne and natural scent fills your nostrils, and you could definitely pass out. You feel yourself start to sweat and your heartbeat begins to beat faster as you try and focus on smiling for the pictures.

All the while, you can see your assistant standing off to the side and smirking at the two of you.

The thought of firing her crosses your mind.

Then, Austin leans down to whisper in your ear, “You look beautiful tonight.” He pulls away as he smiles down at you, and your fake grin for the cameras automatically turns into a genuine one.

You look up at him and muster up ‘thank you’ before quickly looking away. Austin’s gaze lingers on you for a couple seconds more, before looking away as well. 

How are you supposed to survive the rest of the night, if you can’t even handle something as small as this? 

It eventually comes time for the interviews, and throughout each one all you can think about is body heat radiating off of him onto you as he stands close to you. You feel your face get warm, but that doesn’t mean it’s because of him. It could be from the questions you’re being asked, which you feel are beginning to get repetitive.

Every once in a while, you swear he feels closer than normal, which could easily be written off as Austin just listening to the answers you give.

After everything moves inside, you immediately leave the group to make a beeline for the bathroom – to relieve yourself of course, but to also give yourself a chance to breathe. There’s plenty of time before you have to go on stage along with the rest of the cast – and Austin – so might as well relax, right?

Wrong.

When you finally decide you’ve spent enough time in the bathroom, you leave, only to run into Austin himself, catching you completely off guard. You feel your heart drop. 

He’s leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets as he watches you step out. His eyebrows raise at you in curiosity, silently wanting to address the elephant in the room.

“It’s kind of weird for a man to linger outside of the ladies restroom,” you joke, not knowing what else to say.

Austin smirks, “I know, I usually don’t do it, but you gave me no choice – since you’ve been avoiding and all.”

Also, your assistant told him where to find you, but he wasn’t going to tell you that.

You swallow. “I haven’t.”

“Oh really? Then what do you call what you’ve been doing for the past couple of days?” Austin tilts his head.

“How do you know I didn’t get sick or something? Or maybe I lost my phone, that happens y’know,” you tell him as you fold your arms over your chest.

A few people come walking down the hallway, and Austin waits for them to pass before answering, “Because you always make sure that you have your phone, and you’ve still been posting on social media.”

Oops. 

“I thought you didn’t really go on social media,” you point out, your eyebrows furrowing.

“That’s not the point,” he playfully rolls his eyes. He’s about to say something when another group of people walk past, some of them entering the bathroom that you two are still in front of for some reason.

Then Austin motions with his head for you to follow him, which you do. He opens a couple of doors and closes them back before finally finding an empty room for the two of you to talk. He lets you walk in first, his hand on the small of your back, before following and closing the door behind you two.

The space was small and had theatre equipment scattered around. You put some distance in between you and Austin as he turns to face you. If this was any other circumstance, being locked in a room with Austin Butler wouldn’t seem so bad.

Austin runs a hand through his damp hair before stuffing his hands back into his pockets. “So?” he speaks up, wanting you to address the situation. 

“So…what?” you ask as you casually look around the room, trying to look at anything but him. You can’t handle his blue eyes burning into your soul at the moment, but then again you never could because it’s Austin.

“You can’t just avoid me forever. What happened to you?” he asks you softly, and you honestly don’t know what to say.

“Hey, I basically shut down after we kissed and now I can’t look you in the eye because I don’t know if what happened that night is actually real. What’s been going on with you?”

Yeah, no.

You feel your ears begin to grow hot and a weird sensation in your stomach as Austin stares you down. He takes a few steps closer to you and moves his head, trying to get you to look at him.

“Yeah, yeah I know,” you mumble. Not knowing what to do with your arms, you fold them across your chest once again. 

“Talk to me.” He takes another step closer, his expression gentle. “Did I cross a line by kissing you? Did you have a change of heart? What is it?”

“I just–I don’t know, okay?” you say, dramatically throwing your hands in the air.

Then Austin’s eyes squint and he smirks. “You freaked out didn’t you?”

A scoff leaves your mouth because how dare he accuse you of something so true?

You shoot him a glare before saying, “Something like that.”

“I knew it. I know you too well.”

Austin comes closer until he’s standing right in front of you, then takes your hands into his.

“Why didn’t you just come talk to me? We could’ve worked it out.”

“Because I don’t know what I’m doing, Austin. Your career is taking off and you're this big celebrity, and I’m just someone at the beginning of their career – a nobody,” you tell him, looking up at him.

Austin’s eyes furrow and the feeling of hurt flashes across his face. “You’re not a nobody, don’t say that. Look where we are right now, at a premiere for a movie that you're the lead in. And who cares about my career, that doesn’t matter. I’m a human just like you. I like you for you.”

“Come on, Austin,” you sigh as you go to back up, but his grip on your hands tighten.

When he’s sure you’re not going to move again, he places his hands on both sides of your face, forcing you to look at him. Forcing you to see him.

“What do I need to do to show you I’m telling the truth?” he asks, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. His voice is low now as his eyes flicker between yours. His feelings about you are genuine and he needs you to notice that.

You get that same feeling in your chest that you felt that night on the hotel rooftop. When the air was silent, and the two of you were put in your own bubble. You remember the way his hands felt on your body as he held you close, so tenderly.

“It’s not you, it’s me,” you admitted, though it was obvious.

“Then get out of your head. Do you really think I would be holding you in this extremely dusty room if I didn’t care for you. You do realize how close we are, right?” he tries to assure you.

How could you not? You could feel his breath on your face everytime he talked. His scent overruled the smell of the tiny room, making it that much easier to focus on him.

“Yeah,” you answer. Your voice is low now too, matching his. 

After a beat of silence, Austin says, “Would you run away again, if I kissed you right now?”

You shake your head ‘no’ because there’s no way you can trust your voice right now. Austin waits another moment to see if you would back away, but when you don’t, he leans in to connect your lips with his.

His lips are just like you remembered it, soft and plump, as he moves in sync with you. Your hands move to rest on his chest before slowly moving up to wrap around his neck. You feel Austin smile into the kiss, and you can’t help but do the same. Austin���s hands leave your face before landing on your waist, pulling you even move into him, making sure you were the only air he was breathing.

When the two of you finally have to pull away for some much needed air, your faces still stay close enough for your noses to barely touch.

You feel like you could just stay here and forget the movie premiere, but the idea immediately gets tossed out the window when Austin’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He keeps one hand on your waist as he goes to dig it out, only to reveal text messages from his publicist wondering where the two of you were.

Right as Austin’s thumb moves to text her back, another two pop up.

“Well she’s definitely not happy,” Austin laughs.

“We should get back before she kills you,” you say as you watch the messages roll in.

“Yeah, I guess,” he agrees as he answers his publicist before re-pocketing his phone, a hint of disappointment in his tone.

As he walks you to the door and opens it, you stop to say, “Just for the record, I didn’t run. I would call it more like slowly taking a couple steps back.”

“Whatever you say, just don’t do it again because I will have to chase after you,” he cheeses down at you.

That honestly doesn’t sound too bad.

What were you thinking to avoid this man?

Like what you see? check out my masterlist :)

[iliketangerines]

pov you randomly facetime johnny while he's busy working and you're fucking yourself stupid on a dildo that HE CUSTOM MADE FROM HIS OWN COCK AND BALLS and he's just so caught off guard like

made by you

a/n: @partycatty last request!!!

pairing: johnny cage x afab!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), soft!Johnny, needy (like really needy) reader, masturbating (?), praise kink, phone sex, not proofread

Johnny rubs his eyes with one hand, squinting them at the unfinished script of the video game

the pen in his hand shakes as he circles and scribbles in comments about what he liked and what he didn’t like about what the script writer had put in

he wonders if he had hired an idiot because the dialogue sounded stiff and the staging of the scene seemed to make no sense

perhaps he should just hire a new editor and write his own script and then send it to an editor to have them tweak any small details he might’ve missed

his hand reaches out for the coffee cup next to him, and he lifts it up only to find it empty

Johnny looks up from his script with a disgruntled look, lips curved downward and eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the empty cardboard

throwing it into the wastebasket beneath his desk along with the three other empty coffee cups, he stands up from his seat, hearing the bones in his back creak and his knees pop with pain

he groans and presses both of his hands to his lower back, stretching out after spending so long hunched over his desk trying to edit this ridiculous script

maybe he should just go to bed, wake up with a fresh head and fresh eyes

Johnny glances once more over to the script, the red pen decorating the paper at almost every corner, and he lets out a displeased hum

for as much as the weight on his eyelids felt heavy, he really wanted, needed, to get this done tonight, at least before the next shoot happened

he checks his phone for the time, greeted with the sight of you as his lock screen, a bright smile on your face with the sunset perfectly framing you

you hadn’t been able to come with him this time to shoot the current movie, a new project at work had a deadline that happened to cross over into the workflow of the shoot, and you couldn’t afford to slack off

every day and night, he would text you updates about his day, how he felt, whether the food was good on set tonight, and you tried to do the same, complaining about your colleagues, your boss, the traffic getting to and from work

it never failed to make him smile as he read your texts

lately, however, the actors had pressing questions, the cameramen had questions and positions to be marked, the stuntmen needed more clarification on the moveset

he hadn’t had much time for you, and he tried his best to respond to you, typing as fast as he could with one hand as he went on lunch breaks, eyes glued to his screen whenever the actors needed a short break before they could continue

it was absolute hell for him to not be able to talk to you so freely

Johnny steps out of his trailer, trudging over to the coffee machine, checking his phone for any new messages from you

there are a few from a few hours ago, telling them that the dinner party you had been to had been a bust and that one of your colleagues had passed out from drinking too much

he smiles at the text and goes to text you back, quickly pressing the buttons on the coffee machine to give him the largest coffee possible, when your face shows up with your caller id

that was strange, it was past midnight for you usually you’d be fast asleep at this hour, always claiming you needed your beauty rest to get an early start on the grocery shopping on the weekend

nonetheless, he picks up the call, “hey sweetheart, what are you doing up so late?” and he blows on the steaming coffee in his cup and takes a sip

“‘m miss you, miss you Johnny,” you sound breathless, words all slurred together and slightly too high-pitched to be normal

panic strikes through his heart, had something happened? were you safe? had something happened? Shang Tsung?

the memory of you being at the dinner party flits into his memory, and he realizes that you’re probably just drunk and a little needy for him, just as needy as he was for you

“are you drunk? you should go to bed, honey. drink some water before you do.” Johnny takes another sip of his coffee as he starts striding back to his trailer

he wonders if you’ll be able to get up in the morning, you always complained so heavily about hangovers, he’ll send you a text in the morning to remember to take some medicine

“no, not drunk, want you, Johnny, hah-” you practically whine into your phone, and Johnny stops in front of his trailer, hand frozen, his phone tucked right between his ear and his shoulder

suddenly, with his phone so close to his ear, he can hear the faint shuffle of the bedsheets, the way you breathe heavily into the mic and the familiar wet squelch of your pussy

Johnny practically rips the door open in his hurry to get inside, “oh honey, i know, what do you want? tell me.”

suddenly, the coffee in his hand seems redundant, not when adrenaline rushed through him, the thought of you so desperate for him on the sheets sending all of his blood rushing downwards

he places the coffee on his desk and sits on the edge of his bed, pressing his phone as close to his ear as possible to hear you

“want you, want you to kiss me, mark me all over, want you fucking me right now,” you pant into the phone, a low drawn out moan escaping you

Johnny swears his hand is dangerously close to cracking his phone with how tightly he grips it, and he presses his free hand against the bottom of his chin, still trying to remain calm as thoughts of you naked and covered in a slight sweat filters into his thoughts

“i wish i could, honey,” he lets out a sharp exhale through his nose as he tries to imagine what you look like, the soft caress of your skin against the sheets, your eyes that glossy faraway look, lips turned into a slight pout, “tell me what you’re doing right now.”

“mm, wearing your shirt, your favorite, missed you, i miss you,” Johnny resists a groan at the image of you wearing nothing but his shirt, the purple one that had cost too much money

still, it was worth all the money, especially now that you were wearing it right now, all needy and whiny for him

“what else are you doing, honey? c’mon keep talking to me, you’re doing so well.” he encourages to talk more, to fill out the details of your want for him so that he can fuel his own imagination of you

“riding, riding you, but it’s-i-i can’t,” you sound pained at the end, your voice tinted with tears

“hey hey, what’s wrong, what can’t you do?” Johnny presses his chin further into his free hand, trying to decipher what you meant by you riding him

he wasn’t there, but you wouldn’t take on another partner just for this, you wouldn’t do something like that, at least not without his permission

Johnny closes his eyes, listening to you whimper, voice slightly warbled through the phone line, “can’t make myself cum, can’t without you, please, Johnny.”

you sound so desperate for him, and he exhales through his nose, almost proud of himself for ruining you for anyone else, but he could stroke his pride later

“honey, why don’t you facetime me? show me what you’re doing, i’ll guide you. how does that sound?” he hears your small sound of confirmation on the other end, and he pulls his phone away from his ear and waits for your caller id to show up again

as soon as it pops up, he clicks on accept and is met with the sight of you, the phone resting on the headboard of the bed, slightly tilting as you move away after setting up the camera

you look divine, better than he remembered, better than anything he had ever seen actually

his heart slightly aches at the sight of you, just as desperate as you to see each other again, to feel your touch on his skin, to feel your warmth hold his soul

Johnny sucks in a breath and concentrates back on you, how he can slightly see your chest through the unbuttoned front of the shirt, how your thighs slightly trembled as you ride a toy

your baby hairs stick slightly to your forehead, and you look breathless, lips parted in a moan and your brows furrowed upwards as you sink back down onto the toy

he stares at it, rummaging through his mind which one it could possibly be when it suddenly clicks in his head

you were riding him, him as in the prank gift he had given you on your birthday before presenting you with your actual gift

Johnny thought you had thrown it out, but you had kept it and now you were riding it, riding him and his lips slightly part in surprise

as he stares at you, you continue to ride the dildo and let out a long whine as one hand travels downward to rub harsh circles onto your clit

it snaps him out of his shock and back into the moment as he coos at you, “you look so gorgeous, so pretty on my cock.”

a slight hum escapes from you as you stare at the camera with half-lidded eyes, drinking in his praise, and Johnny has to bite his tongue to keep himself from cumming into his pants at the sight alone

“that’s it honey, slow down your hand, you’re being too rough on yourself,” he says it gently, voice a little breathy as he strains to control himself, and you listen obediently, your fingers on your clit slowing down into small gentle circles

you whine pitifully, wanting more, but you listen anyway, trusting him

the fact that you do so easily in such a vulnerable moment fills him with something more, something proud and smooth, like gold shining underneath the sun

“good, you’re being so good for me, sweetheart. use your other hand to pinch your nipple,” he stares, unblinking at his phone as you follow through, legs shaking as you ride him slowly, whimpering as you twist and pinch your nipple

Johnny can’t look away, not, he drinks in the sight like you were the stars in the sky, the galaxies flying in the universe, a marvel, a miracle, a beauty to behold

because you truly were, something wonderful and marvelous and more than anything you would ever know

“that’s it, just like that, speed up just a little bit, good, so good for me” he watches as you bounce a little faster, your fingers against your clit just a bit faster, your pinching at your chest just a bit rougher

“haah, ahhh aghh, Johnny, please, please,” you can barely speak, mewls of pleasure interrupting your own thoughts

“let go for me,” it’s all he needs to say as you moan loudly, and you sink down fully onto the toy, fingers rubbing against your clit desperately as your thighs tremble and twitch

he watches as you ride through your orgasm, as your breathing slows, as your body slouches over, exhausted and spent

“you did so well, so well for me,” he isn’t sure if wants to push it, to tell you to try and get yourself cleaned up, and he decides against it as you lower yourself to the bed and grip onto a pillow, no doubt the one on his side of the bed

his fingers itch to stroke your hair, to massage out your muscles, to hold you close in his arms and fall asleep next to you

Johnny settles with watching you fall asleep on the bed and then ending the call, sending you a text message asking how you felt and to call him when you woke up

setting his phone off to the side, he drags a hand over his face, the image of you riding the toy, the toy based off of him, buried deep inside of you

he stands up and rummages through his drawer, he needed a change of his clothes before he went to bed

[loveinhawkins]

The Championship Game of 1985 is only a quarter of the way done, and Eddie is already certain that it’s not going to be a Hawkins victory.

It kinda blows, honestly. It’s boring, like correctly guessing the ending of a movie five minutes in.

And yeah, sue him, maybe high school basketball is a legitimate source of entertainment—he can admit that in the safety of his own head, at least.

Take, for example, the first game of the ‘83 tournament, when a timeout was called with only seconds remaining: the Tigers’ last hope of winning was to miraculously sink a shot with the fraction of time they had left. The tension in the air was palpable as the team formed a huddle—Eddie couldn’t hear anything apart from students chanting, but he stood on his tiptoes and found a gap in the crowd, just in time to read Steve Harrington’s lips: “I’ll make it.”

And he had—with a goddamn stunning full-court jump shot, too, the ball falling through the net just before the buzzer sounded.

Like, come on. Eddie would only admit it under pain of death, but that definitely rivals the intensity of any worthy campaign.

But he can see none of that excitement now. The Tigers have had few opportunities to even get the ball, and whenever they do, Billy Hargrove seems to have taken it upon himself to hog the damn thing, like it’s a symbol of his masculinity.

Of course, he loses the ball—again—and his nostrils flare with anger.

Maybe that’s why Eddie notices it. He’s checked out of paying attention to the game itself, instead focusing on the jaded expressions of Hargrove’s teammates.

As the ball makes its way down center court, Eddie’s eyes are instead drawn to Steve Harrington. He looks pissed, wiping sweat off his forehead and shouting what looks like some pretty choice words at Hargrove’s back.

Hargrove doesn’t seem to acknowledge it, but for just a moment he goes completely still, and all Eddie can think is danger.

It’s covert, the way it’s all done. Hargrove’s move is quick and calculated; he steps far enough away afterwards that it looks like the whole thing is the fault of a rival player.

But Eddie sees the subtle shove. Sees Steve lose his footing.

He goes down hard.

Winces ripple through the audience. Eddie hears Robin Buckley from band suck air through her teeth, then ramble, “Shit, do you think it’s really bad? Beth Wildfire, on my soccer team, her bone, like, came out of her whole knee, you could see it, must’ve been six inches—”

It doesn’t look like anything as gory as that has happened; Steve is already up, and from the redness of his face, it initially seems as if the only thing that’s been hurt is his pride.

But as Eddie sidles to the end of the front row, within earshot of the bench, he sees that Steve can’t put his weight on one ankle, sees the telling way he grits his teeth while speaking.

“I can keep going,” he says, even as Jason Carver’s getting pulled up to replace him.

The coach barely spares Steve a glance, clapping Carver on the shoulder as he jogs onto the court.

“Get someone to take you over to the nurse.”

Steve’s spine goes rigid. “But I can—”

“Look, I don’t have time for this.” The coach finally looks at Steve directly, pointing a stern finger at his chest. “You’re benched, Harrington.”

Steve visibly deflates. He opens his mouth, but no words come out, and then he glances to the side, as if suddenly aware that he’s drawing attention to himself.

This time, when his teeth clench, Eddie thinks that it’s more from embarrassment than pain.

“Whatever,” Steve mutters, and he limps out of the hall—close enough that he clips Eddie by the shoulder as he goes.

Eddie doesn’t know that he’s made a decision until he’s already moving, stepping to the side.

He turns and heads for the exit.

There’s a jeering call from the bench: Mark Lewinsky.

“Aw, what are you gonna do, Munson? Nurse him back to health?”

Obscene moaning noises, punctuated with laughter.

Eddie rolls his eyes.

He finds Steve in the corridor, bracing himself with a hand against the wall. There’s a couple of pictures on the floor, class photos taken for the yearbook that had been pinned up; Steve must have inadvertently torn them down as he grappled for balance.

“Go away, Munson,” he says without looking. “Go back to the game.”

“I’ve kinda lost interest,” Eddie says lightly. He manages to watch Steve take one painful step before he simply can’t do it anymore—stepping forward, he says, “Christ, Harrington, here.”

Steve jolts away from his hand. “Fuck off, I don’t need—”

“Well, fuck you too, then,” Eddie snaps. Something’s burning in his chest, a sudden and fierce hurt. “Jesus Christ. You know what I am isn’t fucking catching, right?”

He shocks himself by saying it.

In the silence that follows all he can think is that, for once, his dad was right: he never did learn how to shut his damn mouth.

Steve’s staring at him, pressing his back against the wall like it’s the one thing keeping him upright.

“That’s—that’s not why—” He breaks off, looks completely lost.

Somewhere within Eddie’s own mortification, he takes pity on him.

He sniffs, tries to act nonchalant. “Don’t hurt yourself, man.”

“No, I—I didn’t mean…” Steve sighs. “I’m sorry. That’s not—I just meant—” He pushes off from the wall again, wobbles until his hand finds purchase. “Just meant I can do it myself.”

Eddie feels his heart rate slow. He tilts his head. Re-examines Steve’s posture: the set to his jaw, the pained determination.

Years ago, Eddie broke his wrist at the fair, thanks to an awkward crash while on the bumper cars. It was the first summer that staying at Wayne’s had become a permanent thing, and Eddie had hidden his wrist beneath the folds of his too-large leather jacket, but Wayne met him off the ride and immediately noticed (“Chrissake, Ed. I’m not mad, kid. Just… lemme help you?”).

Eddie tried to stay silent as he got wrapped into a splint, because anything else felt like admitting to something.

Felt shameful.

“Yeah, you can,” Eddie says, shrugging. He pauses. Takes a chance. “Doesn’t mean you have to, though.”

He moves forward again—slower this time. Offers his hand.

Steve takes it.

“For the record,” he says, grunting as he shifts his weight, “I could’ve kept playing. Like, I’ve had worse.”

Yeah, Eddie thinks, you sure have.

Steve clearly hasn’t sensed that Eddie’s thoughts have gone to how messed up his face was last winter, because he keeps talking.

“Anyway. My own damn fault.” A rueful grin. “Didn’t plant my feet.”

“Don’t,” Eddie says. “You don’t have to… I saw. I saw Hargrove, man.”

Steve scoffs quietly. “Yeah, of course you did.”

“Shit, Harrington, way to make me sound like a stalker.”

“No, it’s just—” Steve shakes his head. “Just typical, that’s all. Remember when the fire alarm went off, last spring? You were the only one who noticed Debbie Lyons was missing.”

“Uh, so?”

Steve smiles. “So… you notice things.”

Eddie doesn’t know what to say.

But he gives it a try as they round another corner.

“What the fuck is Hargrove’s problem with you, dude?”

Steve chuckles wryly. “I’m really annoying.”

“Yeah, fair enough,” Eddie says, grinning when Steve manages to elbow him in the ribs. “But not, like, ‘intentionally injure’ levels of annoying. He threw the game, too.”

“Huh?”

Eddie fixes Steve with a pointed look. “Took out one of our best players.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but still looks undeniably pleased. “Shuddup.” He sobers in the space of taking another step and says, “With Hargrove, it’s… there’s bigger things than basketball, y’know?”

Eddie hears the just drop it underneath what’s spoken. He nods.

They’re almost at the nurse’s office when Steve sighs. “S’not exactly how I pictured it.”

“Hmm?”

“My last game.” Steve winces slightly as they inch closer to the door; Eddie tries to take more of his weight. “Had it in my head that I’d win, go out on a high.”

Eddie’s staring down the prospect of repeating senior year again—he knows all about having ideas in your head that don’t quite pan out.

“Life isn’t like a movie, Harrington,” he says.

It comes out perhaps more fond than he intended.

For some reason, Steve starts laughing like he’s heard something downright hilarious. “Yeah, gonna have to agree to disagree on that one, Munson.”

In the nurse’s office, they find out Steve’s probably got a bad sprain rather than a fracture (“See? I totally could’ve kept playing,” Steve insists), but that he should get it checked out at the hospital, just in case.

Ice pack in one hand, Steve makes a call on the office phone, with what sounds like a morbidly curious teen on the other end: “No, dude, there’s no blood—can you be normal for, like, two seconds and put your mom on? Thank you.”

As Steve hangs up, Eddie is very aware that the right time to leave was probably five minutes ago.

He stays put.

“This was supposed to be my last game, too,” he says.

“Was?”

Eddie clicks his tongue. “Well. S’not confirmed yet, haven’t had my last test results back. But uh, it’s kinda like the game.” He nods in the direction that they came, towards the basketball court. “I already know which way it’s gonna go.”

There’s no judgement in Steve’s eyes. “Sorry. Must’ve been boring to watch.”

Eddie smiles. “Nah, you’re good.”

He doesn’t say that, in his eyes, Steve’s single-handedly given the school almost all of its memorable basketball moments. That his secret favourite one isn’t even a Tigers victory: there was a game when Steve was poised to take the winning shot, and a kid from Connersville fainted.

In the few seconds of confusion, Steve could’ve still taken the shot. He could’ve won.

But as soon as he realised what was going on, he refused to.

To Eddie, that says more about him than any triumph ever could.

The phone rings again; the nurse is letting a Mrs Henderson in at the front of the school to pick up Steve.

“Guess that’s my cue,” Eddie says, because there’s only so many people allowed in the office at one time.

“See you, Munson. Um, thanks, by the way. Hope next year’s championship is, uh, better.”

There’s something in the way he says it, like even while still in the building, he’s drifting away, high school in his rear view mirror.

Oh, Eddie thinks wistfully, you’re already halfway outta here, aren’t you?

Goddamnit. I might actually miss you, Steve Harrington. You and your stupid hair.

“Hmm, can’t see myself going to watch next year.”

“Oh, yeah? How come?”

Eddie lingers in the doorway. Maybe it’s the fact that in a few weeks they’re never gonna see each other again. Maybe that helps him say it. Makes him a little braver.

He’s never learned to shut his damn mouth.

“My favourite player’s leaving,” he says.

And sure, he leaves barely a second later; he’s not that brave.

But he stays just long enough to catch Steve’s smile: startled, pleased, and perhaps just a little shy—like he’s made the winning shot after all.

[barcaatthemoon]

lover || leah williamson x reader ||

your friendship with leah was never destined to stay as such.

you had moved around for your entire life. you grew up as an army brat, going from station to station as your parents were moved around. it was rare for you to be in one place for more than maybe six months at a time. so, whenever you started playing soccer professionally, you weren't too upset to be one of the frequently traded players in the nwsl. you had spent four seasons playing there before being called over to arsenal for a long-term contract.

staying stagnant wasn't something that you were good at. it felt weird to sign a multiple year lease on your apartment. still, you were proud of yourself. you could be the one to break the cycle of constantly moving around in your family. the idea of settling down somewhere sounded nice, and london was a great city.

you quickly got to know your teammates overseas. you found a best friend in your captain, leah. the two of you had been fairly friendly playing against each other internationally, but had never really gotten to know each other off of the pitch. now that you were on the same team, you had taken the chance to become close friends.

"does it count as a team bonding night if it's just the two of us?" you asked as you spread out on leah's couch. she had a few movies lined up for the two of you to watch. there had been a team bonding night, but leah had whisked you away at the last second, claiming that they had gotten enough of your time already.

you knew that wasn't true. you spent nearly every night at leah's or with her at your place. leah liked coming over for dinner because you hated going out to eat. most of the restaurants that were quick and nearby were decent, but not something you wanted to eat regularly. the jokes about british food had definitely not come out of nowhere.

"we're on the team, and besides, we need to have all the chemistry we can," leah said. you rolled your eyes a little as you leaned your head against the palm of your hand. leah moved into the space in front of you, draping your arm across her midsection as she pressed play on the screen. leah fell asleep pretty quickly, leaving you to lie awake with the thoughts of how nice it felt to have leah in your arms. it wasn't like you were in love with leah williamson, you just had sprouted some feelings for her with all the time you'd been spending together.

…

"come on, let's go!" you smiled to yourself as you heard alessia shout at you from the bench. she was going crazy beside leah, who was equally as excited as you played. leah was yelling and shouting, but it was being drowned out by the majority of the other players cheering you on.

"come on baby!" leah's voice rang out as you managed to fight your way into the box. it was a 1-v-1 with mary, who you knew wouldn't let you get a shot in so easily. you could have kicked it back for an assist, but you wanted to score a goal for leah. she wasn't quite cleared yet, and something told you that it'd be good for her morale.

you took your shot and watched as it soared high above mary's hand. the ball slotted perfectly in the top left corner, which was a shot that you had a lot of difficulty getting before. the team went crazy as you ran over to the sidelines by your team's bench. leah was the first one up to her feet to greet you. you pulled her into a bone-crushing hug, one that she reciprocated fully.

"good job out there. that was beautiful," leah told you. your cheeks flushed at the compliment, which you'd pass off as the heat if anybody pressed you about it. your teammates didn't seem to care about that, only that you had pushed arsenal into the lead with that goal. you went back out onto the pitch to resume play with a little pep in your step.

at the end of the game, you shook hands with the other team before going to find leah. she was waiting for you with an extra water bottle in her hands. you happily accepted it, knowing that she had snagged one with your favorite flavoring inside. you managed to down half of it in a couple of gulps, absolutely parched after playing like that.

"you keep playing like that and we'll have to make sure that you bleed red and white." a couple of your teammates patted the top of your head as they lazily embraced you. you watched the majority of the group go talk to fans in the stands, leaving you and leah all alone with each other.

"i think that was your best game yet," leah told you. you shrugged it off as you sat down on the bench, ready to rest your legs for a bit. leah pulled them up onto her lap and started to rub the knots out of your thighs for you. "we've all noticed how hard you work to stay in good form. you don't have to do all of that, but we appreciate it."

"i want to be good. i want to make you proud," you said. leah smiled as she leaned towards you a little. her forehead was almost resting against yours and it would have been so easy to kiss her, but you didn't. you couldn't kiss leah, she was your best friend and it had to stay that way if you'd make it for the rest of your contract with arsenal. no matter how badly you wanted to roll around like horny teenagers on the pitch together.

"i'll always be proud of you, win or lose," leah promised. she glanced down at your lips, and for a moment, you thought she'd kiss you. instead, she pressed a kiss to your cheek before pushing your legs off of her. "let's get you a shower. how does that sound?"

…

the midseason break following your big win seemed to have called for a team night out. usually, you were the type to stay inside of look for a low-key bar, but the girls insisted on a club. leah seemed to want it just as badly, so you agreed to go with them for her sake. it was becoming more and more obvious to you that your feelings for leah weren't going anywhere. there were even times whenever you swore that she had to have felt the same way.

still, you kept your feelings to yourself. that was something you had always been good at. at least, it was something that you were good at sober. drunk was a completely different story. after shots with the girls, a couple of your own cocktails, and a few more shots snuck in with the backline, you were stumbling around as an open book.

"have you met leah? she's the prettiest girl in here. i think that i'd like to kiss her," you said to a complete stranger. they gave you a weird look as your teammates came over to collect you. leah wasn't in the group, instead somewhere over by the bar chatting up a girl you thought was way under leah's league. "why doesn't she just flirt with me? i mean, we spend all our time together, we're practically dating. i already think i'm falling in love with her."

"excuse me?" beth shouted in your ear. you winced at the sudden loud noise, which you hadn't been expecting. they managed to get you out of the club, but in taking you away had caught leah's attention.

"i said that i think i'm in love with leah. i think i've been in love with her for a while now," you repeated, unaware of the object of your affections being right there. you heard the click of heels behind you and turned your head to see leah. the alcohol was a godsend, allowing you to have forgotten about your love confession. "there you are, i've been waiting for you all night. can we go back inside and dance? please?"

"i think that you need to go home," leah said as she put her arm beneath yours to support you. "who let you drink like this?"

"the girls, we had a competition," you said proudly. leah laughed a little at how cute you were. "will you take me home? oh, and canwe watch movies together? i love it when we cuddle on the couch."

"shh," leah shushed you. she hadn't been drinking nearly as much as you, so she was still easily embarrassed. she whisked you away into an uber before any of the girls could question her about the cuddling. leah held you close in the backseat of the car, trying desperately to ignore the way that you were making her heart pound in her chest.

she helped you up to your apartment, unsurprised when you asked her to stay. there had been a lot of close calls between the two of you, and tonight felt like the night when it'd all come to a head. leah averted her eyes the best she could while still helping you change. it was hard to remind herself that she didn't get to look at you like that and have the thoughts that she was.

"do you think you could hold me tonight?" you asked softly. leah noticed that you were signficantly less drunk than you had been, but the smell was still heavy all over you. you'd have to shower it off in the morning, as would leah if she held you throughout the night. "can i have a goodnight kiss?"

leah was apprehensive about kissing you while you were drunk, but she couldn't look you in the eyes and tell you no. she was slow and gentle, just barely giving you a peck on the lips. she began to move away when you let out a whine in protest. leah sighed as she rested her forehead against yours.

"kiss me harder," you told her. leah did as you asked every step of the way. she gave you exactly what you wanted until you started pawing at her clothes.

"not while you're drunk. if we take this next step, i need you to remember it, please," leah pleaded with you. you seemed to understand much better than leah had expected you to. instead of whining or protesting, you just shifted a little and let your hands press against leah's back. "goodnight, love."

"night leah," you mumbled against her chest. she closed her eyes and started counting down until she heard you snore, just barely getting through a few seconds. leah wasn't generally one for prayers, but she was praying to whoever would listen that you'd wake up in the morning feeling the same way about her.

[katiebblynne]

✨Closer Company✨

SDV Sam Smut

a/n: this is my first fanfiction ever, so I’m sorry if it’s whack lol~

pairing: Sam X Fem!Reader

MDNI WARNINGS: smut, oral, praise, bondage, p n v sex

wc: 7144

Sam has been coming to the farmhouse often lately as two have gotten closer, but you don’t mind the company.

You hear your best friend humming in the shower as you fold your laundry across the hall. You and Sam have gotten pretty close in these past few months, and he’s been more apt to make himself comfortable at your farmhouse. You think back to the first weekend he stayed over two months ago. ‘It’s a good break to not be at home with my Mom all the time… I hope this is cool with you, y/n..’. You smile to yourself as you tend to your laundry. He still goes home, but the trips back are starting to become fewer and far between. As you continue your chore, you find bits of his clothing tossed in with yours. You chuckle softly.

You like his company. Sam is unlike anyone you’ve met before. He’s bright and warm, like sunshine in the midst of Spring. His laugh has become intoxicating lately – sometimes you even hear it when he’s not around. Your mind begins to fill with thoughts of sitting with him in your living room, playing games or watching movies all evening… sharing laughs and stories together. He even helps tend to your farm on mornings when he stays overnight on your couch. Your smile spreads a bit more, your arms absentmindedly going through the motions as you drift off. The squeak of the shower handle catches your attention, and suddenly your wholesome thoughts of Sam turn a bit darker for a moment, involuntarily imagining him stepping out of your shower, water dripping down his bare skin. Your hands stop moving and you stare blankly at the top of the dryer in front of you. A new, warm, almost strange feeling spreads across your chest… and drifts in between your legs for a split second.

You catch Sam walking past you in the hallway out of the corner of your eye, breaking your not so innocent train of thought. He strides carefree down the hall toward your bedroom still humming a light tune. You peek out of the laundry room subtly, catching a glimpse of his toned, damp back as he walks, nothing but a white towel draped around his angular hip bones. His low, raspy hum fills the wooden walls he strolls down, following behind him as he goes into your bedroom and closes the door to get dressed.

Your curious eyes settle on the closed door, and your cheeks fill up with air as you wisp out a calming breath. You shake your head, partly at the token casual nature he carries in your home, partly to tame the growing desire you have to go and see more. You duck back into the laundry room, finishing up what you’re doing to silence your suddenly intrusive brain.

As you place the last folded shirt down in its pile, you jump at the sound of Sam’s voice. “Your shower has really good water pressure.” You look over to see him resting against the door frame, wearing a loose band tee and sweatpants, a friendly smile on his face. His still wet hair settles against the sides of his neck, water forming to create damp circles on the collar of his shirt. You nod and smile casually, as if you weren’t just thinking of him in a less innocent light a minute ago. “Yeah, I just changed it out to a better showerhead a couple weeks ago.” You pick up a small separate stack of laundry that belongs to Sam, handing to him with a playful smirk. “Getting pretty cozy here lately, huh?”

He chuckles genially, taking the clothes from you. “I hope that’s alright… my bad for leaving these clothes in your hamper, heheh…”. You shake your head and smile softly. “I don’t mind, it’s nice having you around.” You take your personal stack of clothes and walk past him, going to your bedroom. He follows behind you in an almost puppylike manner. He comes in and sets his newly washed clothing next to his bag, plopping onto a beanbag on your floor. You start to put yours away, bending down slightly to organize some into the bottom drawer. Sam tilts his head slightly, his gaze lingering on your butt and thighs.

You can almost feel his gaze burning into your backside, and slowly turn your head over your shoulder with a mock accusatory expression. He quickly looks up at the ceiling and taps his fingers. You both share a giggle. You mutter in a teasing manner as you turn back around, “Wow… getting really cozy here.” He laughs and throws his hands up in a little surrender, “Sorry, sorry. My bad. I’m only human.”

You stand back up and finish putting your things away into your dresser. You go over and sit on your bed, looking at him stretched out on your beanbag. He meets your gaze with a casual, friendly look, his voice coming out brightly, “So, any plans tonight?”

You pull your legs up into a crisscross, laying your arms on your knees. “Nope, you?”

“You already know I don’t.” He looks at you cutely, waiting for the prompted invitation for him to stay over once again. You laugh warmly, “Why do you even make me ask you to stay when we both know you're going to anyway?” He joins your laugh, putting his arms behind his head. “I like to give you the option so you don’t think I’m a little urchin.” You both continue to laugh, an inviting atmosphere filling the room. You fall over to your side and place your head in your hand, looking over him and sighing to cease your laughter. You speak sincerely, a gentle tone taking place in your throat. “You can stay here as often as you like Sam. I really don’t mind the company, ya know?”.

You see Sam’s informal body language stiffen slightly at your kind words, a slight blush coming over his cheeks. He responds, his voice a bit small in appreciation, “Thanks, y/n. I really like being here… obviously.” He ends with a chuckle to disperse the suddenly genuine energy to something more lighthearted. You smile and a tingle flutters in your heart for a moment. This is a different feeling than you’ve had so far with Sam, but you… don’t push it away.

Sam smiles and pulls out his phone, starting to scroll through it. This happens often — you two just sitting together, silently enjoying each other's company as you do your own things. You get up from your bed and go over to your computer at a desk settled next to your dresser. You turn on some music and make your way back to your mattress, breathing in the comfortable air around you. You lay on your back and your head falls to the side, looking at Sam again. His hair is still damp, and the way his messy blond locks fall around his face make your insides stir a little for some reason. You speak up, prompting him to look away from his phone and up to you. “Do you not brush your hair after you shower?”

He grabs a piece of his hair, pondering your question. He shakes his head and shrugs. “Nah, I kind of just let it do its thing, I guess.” You tilt your head a bit, slowly getting up from your bed and pulling your desk chair behind the beanbag he resides on. You grab your brush from your nightstand and leisurely start brushing out his hair for him, starting at the bottom and gently working through the tangles. You can’t see his reaction, but you see his shoulders tense up slightly at your touch. He slowly puts his phone down on the floor and rests his hands together over his lap.

“Is this alright?” You ask, ceasing for a moment to make sure he’s okay with your somewhat affectionate gesture. He nods a bit, clearing his throat a little. “Yeah, that’s… nice.”. You smile and continue. As you make your way through his hair, your mind starts drifting back to the intimate thoughts you had in the laundry room while he was showering earlier. You stifle a moan in your throat and pretend to cough lightly to hide it.

You brush his hair for a while and end up resting your arms on his shoulders lightly as you do so. You notice Sam adjusting himself in his seat, his hands moving ever so much to cover his crotch. Your eyes widen a little, and that funny feeling comes back between your thighs. Something… almost hunger-like… creeps up the back of your neck, and you lean in slightly, letting your breath travel to the back of Sam’s ear. You put your brush down, switching to your fingers to comb through his hair. You can feel him shiver a bit. Your voice comes out, soft and a bit sultry, “Are you enjoying yourself, Sam?”

Sam lets out a small breath and nods, starting to fidget with his thumbs a bit. You smile and slowly wrap your arms around the front of his shoulders, your chin resting near his neck. He tenses up, his knuckles turning white as he interlocks his fingers together. You continue, your voice dancing across the skin of his cheek, “Be honest with me, Sam… out of all these nights you’ve been staying here, have you ever thought about me…” You pause for a moment, your voice lowering even more, “... in a way you shouldn’t?”

You feel Sam’s throat catch a gasp, and it sends pulses to your tummy. You whisper again. “You have, haven’t you?” Sam is silent for a moment, the sunset slipping through your window and casting both of your shadows on the wall opposite of you. Sam’s breath comes out shaky and small.

“...I have.”

A heat engulfs you at his answer. You smile and lean into his ear, your voice sending bolts of want down his spine. “Move your hands.”

Sam slowly moves his hands to his side, showing you the growing arousal he has been covering up in his pants. Both of your breathing hastens a bit. You lean away from him and start combing his hair again tenderly with your fingertips. He starts to speak shyly, “Uh, y/n… –”

“Touch yourself.”

Sam’s eyes shoot open as you cut him off, your request bold and unexpected. He turns around to face you slightly. “W-what?” he asks, his voice breathy, but laced with a bit of undeniable lust. You chuckle and grab his shoulders to lead him back to the way he was facing, pulling your chair up so he can relax into your thighs a bit. You whisper, a sense of plead behind your otherwise dominant tone, “You want to relieve yourself while I play with your hair, right?” you ask, your voice trailing down his neck. “Go ahead, I don’t mind. I want to see what you look like.” You lean back and continue running your fingers through Sam’s hair.

Sam shakes under your touch, his arousal building almost to the point of pain. He nods and hitches his fingers on the hem of his pants, pausing for a moment to take a small breath. He pulls down his pants just enough to let his fully erect, throbbing dick spring out. Your fingers drift gently along his scalp, a light gasp leaving your lips at the sight.

“Oh wow… such a pretty cock.”

Sam almost chokes on his breath at your flattering comment, his cock twitching in excitement. He can’t resist the urge to start stroking himself right in front of you. “Ah.. y/n…”. You watch him, an intense burning spreading from your thighs up to your stomach, and settling on your face. You watch as he strokes himself for you, biting your lip as you carry on massaging his head. You moan lightly in his ear.

Sam’s cock throbs in his hands, his hips moving instinctively as he pumps himself faster. Pre-cum leaks from his tip. He tilts his head back, exposing some of his neck to you as he moans softly, his body trembling with desire. You look at his neck and gently kiss it.

He jolts at the feeling of your lips on him, a soft gasp escaping him as he leans into your kiss. His cock is rock hard in his hand, and he can feel himself already getting closer to release. He whimpers gently, his hips bucking upwards more insistently. You stop touching his hair and wrap your arms around his shoulders again, your voice soft and sultry, “Sam, do you want me to watch you cum?” You reach your hand forward down his chest. “Or do you want me to help?”

His head melts back into your shoulder at your offer. He looks at you out of the corner of his eye, a look of pleading desire locked in his pupils. “Please… y/n… help me.” He pants, almost begging for release.

You smile and nod seductively, your hand traveling down his torso. Your hand reaches his cock and you run your fingers along his tip, gathering his pre-cum. You take your fingers to your mouth to taste him. “Mmm… delicious,” you whisper. He watches you, transfixed as you lick his pre off your fingertips. He whimpers for you, “Fuck… please… touch me.”

You reach forward and wrap your hand around him, stroking softly. Your other arm tightens around his shoulders, holding him in place against your chest. Sam throws his head back against your collarbone, his dick twitching at your touch. He gasps and moans, his body trembling with pleasure. “Yes, just like that… harder…” he pants, his hips moving in time with your strokes. You jerk him harder and a bit faster, placing loving kisses on his neck.

Sam cries out in pleasure, his body tensing as he feels himself approaching climax. The combination of your skilled hand on his dick and your gentle kisses is too much for him to handle. “Y/n… I’m gonna…!” He warns, his voice strained with ecstasy. You jerk even faster and bite down on his neck, your tongue lapping at his skin. The sudden bite sends Sam over the edge, his orgasm hitting him like a freight train. He arches his back, his cock pulsing in your hand as he cums, ropes of hot semen shooting out and coating your fingers and the slightly exposed skin of his hips and thighs. “Mmmmm… fuckkk…” he pants as he rides out his release.

You let him go slowly after he finishes, admiring his cum on your fingers. You sliver out of the desk chair and come to the side of him on the floor as he catches his breath in the beanbag. You let him watch you lick his cum off your hand. Sam studies you in awe – he can’t believe the sight… his messy, sticky cum being devoured by your tongue. His member twitches at the show and he groans, unable to help himself. After you clean off your hand, you lean forward and lick the rest off his hips and thighs.

He shivers as your tongue touches his skin, licking up the last remnants of his release. He lets out a low moan, his cock starting to harden again at the sensation. “T-that’s so hot…” You take up every last drop, even leaning over to lick off his tip. He gasps, the cool of your saliva a stark contrast to the heat of his arousal. You look over to him and swallow it all, opening your mouth afterward to show him it's all gone. He tilts his head in pleasure, his face contorting into a supplicating want. He begs, his voice ragged and husky, “Please, y/n… suck me…”

You can’t help but chuckle at his request. You look at him with a tease across your face. “But you just came – aren’t you sensitive?” Your voice is low and sultry, with a touch of playfulness. Sam nods eagerly, his dick still hard despite just having cum. He’s sensitive, but he doesn’t care – he just wants more, needs it. “Yeah… but it just makes it even better…” he says, giving a small whimper at the thought of you touching him again. You shrug and chuckle slightly, “If you say so…” You crawl in between his legs and make eye contact as you take him into your mouth deliberately. Sam can’t help but moan loudly as he feels your mouth engulf his sensitive flesh. He watches you, eyes heavy-lidded as you start to move, your tongue swirling around his shaft. “F-fuck… yes…” You bob your head up and down gingerly, savoring every inch of him. You moan.

Sam’s hips jerk up, unable to help himself as your moan vibrates through his stiff cock. Fuck, it feels so good. He can feel another release building up again, in defiance of just having done so. “Shit, y/n… you’re gonna make me cum again already.” You look up at him and a dirty thought crosses your mind, wanting to make him feel even better before he reaches his edge again. You take your mouth off of him and replace it with your hand, pumping sweetly. Your mouth travels down, and your tongue meanders up his balls at a painstakingly slow pace. Sam groans, his thighs quivering as you lick. The cool air on his aching cock makes him shudder and he looks down at you, his eyes dark with lust. “Please, suck them… lick them more…” he begs, his voice rough with need.

You gently suck them into your mouth, jerking his member with your hand as you do so. Sam throws his head back, a loud groan escaping his lips as you draw his reactive sack into your mouth. This, in combination with your hand working his cock is too much for him. “Fuck!” he gasps, “I’m…” he warns. You leave his balls with a lewd pop and take his dick in your mouth fully, cupping his testicles with your free hand.

Sam can’t hold it in anymore. He cums hard in your mouth, his eyes rolling back as his hips buck up uncontrollably. He groans desperately as he empties himself, his whole body trembling with pleasure. You take every drop into your mouth and lean back on your legs. You swallow every bit of it once more. Sam watches, panting as you take down all of his cum. He looks satisfied, but still horny. His dick softens a little, but he knows it won’t be long until he's ready for more. “You’re… so good at that…”

You finish swallowing and smile cutely at him. He stares in wonderment, breaking out into a smile. He’s never seen anything so hot, and that sweet little smile of yours makes him only want you more. “I can’t handle this… come here, y/n.” You chuckle and climb into his arms, your chest leaning against his, his dick resting against your clothed stomach. “What, Sam?” You ask with a loving gaze.

Sam wraps his arms around you, pulling you tight against his chest. He can feel the curves of your body weighing on him, and he starts to get excited again. “Kiss me. I need to taste myself on your lips.” You lean in and kiss him gently. He moves his lips against yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth to explore it. You moan softly at the new contact. His hands slide up and down your sides and back, his touch growing more yearning as you continue kissing. He groans, grinding his hips tenderly against you. You feel him getting hard again, breaking the kiss to look down between you. You say, half shocked and half flattered, “I cannot believe you’re already hard again after just coming twice in a row.” He looks down, following your gaze. He smirks, looking back up at you shyly. “What can I say? This is…” His voice gets shaky and serious, a blush forming on his cheeks. “...I’ve wanted this for a while now, y/n.”

Your heart tightens as he confesses this to you, a longing taking over your eyes. “Me too, Sam.” You see his eyes light up as he sits up a bit straighter. “Really? Like for real?” You laugh at his excitement, and nod your head slowly and lovingly. He leans in and catches you in a passionate, deep kiss. His hands travel up your back and tangle in your hair, a moan coming from his throat, vibrating through you. You part from him breathlessly, a devious smile forming on your face. “Well, I’ll let you fuck me tonight then, if that’s what you’d want…?” You offer playfully, your body filled to the brim with a mixture of exciting new emotions.

Sam’s eyes widen at your words and he swallows hard. He nods, his hand starting to stroke his cock. “Y-yeah, I want that. I want you so bad.” He leans in to touch you, but you stand up and walk away, stopping to turn around a few feet in front of him. You look at him seductively, naughtily. He smiles curiously and leans back into the beanbag, stroking himself almost absentmindedly.

Your fingers float to the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head sexily. He freezes, completely taken in by what you’re doing for him. You toss your shirt aside, your arms going behind you to unclasp your bra. It falls to the ground, your tits dropping lower on your chest beautifully. The near-completely set sun struggles to cling in your window, it’s light tickling across your skin. Sam’s eyes wander over your chest and torso, his hands balling to fists in his lap.

You hitch your fingers into your shorts and turn around as you pull them down, bending over so they have to fight to slip past your ass. You hear Sam groan lightly and look over your shoulder to smile at him, mocking innocence on your face. His head slumps to a tilt, a yearning overtaking his eyes. You let the shorts fall, pulling at the elastic of your panties while still bending over. You look at Sam questioningly, teasing him. He nods eagerly – almost anguished. You smile and sigh, tantalizing him for a moment before taking your panties down. The thin fabric clings to your wet pussy for a second before letting go, landing on the shorts pooled around your ankles. A string of your arousal follows the fabric down, releasing against your thigh. Sam rubs his face in desire, leaning forward and putting his hands together between his lap as he sighs, tortured in need to touch you. “Dear fucking god, y/n. You’re driving me crazy right now. Look at you.”

You can’t help but giggle at his adoration of your body. You stand up and face him, holding your hands behind your back sweetly. “What would you like to do next then, my Sammy?” Sam looks up at you, his mouth falling open at your words. He swallows, trying to speak without losing his mind. “I want to taste you…”

“Taste me?” You ask, egging him on more. Sam huffs and stands up, walking in front of you. Desire fully possesses him as he takes your face into his hands. “I want to eat your pussy until you cum all over my face. Now.” His vibrant plea to eat you out makes your mouth water. You smile and whisper seductively, “Good choice.” You walk to the side of your bed and pat the mattress for him to come lie down. He nods, quickly stripping all of his clothes, stammering. He practically runs to the bed. He lays on his back, looking up at you with a hungry expression across his face.

You get on the bed, swinging your legs over his shoulders to kneel over his face. You keep a distance between the both of you for a moment, looking down at his flushed cheeks. His mouth is open faintly, his tongue eager to find you. “You want me to ride your face, lovely?” Sam nods eagerly, his hand reaching up to grip the sides of your thighs as he looks up at you. “Yes, please… sit on my face. I need to taste you so bad, y/n.” He starts to lick his lips, locking his gaze to your glistening pussy.

You lower yourself down, making sure not to put too much pressure on his head. “Eat up, handsome.”

Sam moans as soon as he feels your flesh against his lips, his tongue darting out to lick at your clit. He starts to eat you out enthusiastically, sucking and lapping at your pussy while his hand grip tightly on your thighs. You bite your lip and look down at him half-lidded, your hips beginning to grind on him. Sam moans louder as you start to move against his tongue, delving deeper into your folds. He moves his hands to your ass, gripping it and pulling you down onto his face more firmly. “Mmmm..” He praises from under you.

“Oh, you like me sitting on your face like this, Sam?” You ask, your voice light and ragged from the pleasure. He nods happily, his face buried between your legs. His tongue works harder around your clit, his hands roaming and squeezing as he pleases. He can’t get enough of the taste of your pussy. He breaks his ministrations for just a moment to breathe out, “Yes, so damn much…”. Your hips buck against his mouth more, juices from your cunt dripping onto his chin. Moans leave your mouth like a song.

Sam groans hard at the sounds you’re making, the vibrations sending sparks through your body. He slurps your clit into his mouth, then starts flicking his tongue against it more rapidly. He loves the taste of your essence, eating you like it’s his last meal. Your hands run up your body, squeezing your tits hard. You ride his tongue even harder than before. “Ahhh…mmmm…!” Sam watches lustfully as you touch yourself and use his tongue without restriction. He feels his cock twitch, wanting nothing more than to fuck you right now. But he knows better than to stop pleasing you.

You close your eyes tightly as you start to cum. Sam sees this, lapping at you relentlessly. “Fuck… Sam, I’m gonna – !!” Your legs start to shake and he holds you in place. You whimper loudly and cum, squirting on his mouth and chin a bit. He moans in rapture as he feels you coat his face, his tongue still buried deeply in your pussy. He drinks down every last drop of you, feeling his cock throb with need. He gently pulls back, a string of saliva connecting his lips to your swollen flesh. You weakly swing your leg off of him, letting him sit up. You lay on your side, panting. “Oh my god… good boy. Good boy.”

Sam grins, feeling pleased with himself as he watches you catch your breath. “You taste fucking amazing.” He states, licking his lips and wiping his chin. You softly laugh and sit up, catching his eyes in yours. You smile, still trembling a bit. “What next, Sammy? I want you to have some fun.”

Sam smirks, happiness and lust flooding his eyes as he looks back at you. “Rest assured, I’ve already had enough fun to last a lifetime tonight… but I would love to fuck you now.” You smile in response, bringing yourself to your knees on the bed. You both lean in and kiss each other, taking a moment to appreciate what the night has turned into. You break the kiss and ask, “How do you want me?” He is quick to climb behind you, tapping your hips as a gesture for you to let him bring his legs to either side of you. He asks you sweetly and lovingly, “Would you want to ride me to start?” You can hear the utter excitement in his voice. You chuckle and nod, straddling his thighs while facing away from him. “Like this?”

He lets a breath out at the sight of you positioning yourself over his cock, his hand relaxed against your ass. “God yes… I want to see your ass jiggle while you take me.” You look over your shoulder at him and wiggle your ass a shade, teasing him, “You want my pussy, handsome? Tell me.” Sam licks his lips hungrily, gripping your ass cheek greedily. “Holy shit, yes. I want it so bad, it’s all I can think about… Please.”

Satisfied with his response, you smile and plunge yourself on his hard length – your ass jiggling as you slam down against him. You let out a strained moan and take a moment to adjust to his size. Sam moans ferally, his fingers digging into your hips as he feels you sink down onto his dick. He arches up into you, thrusting to meet your core while you take him in inch by inch. “Oh my god…” he urgently praises from behind you, “...you feel so good, pretty girl. Please keep going.” You put your hands on his thighs to steady yourself and start riding him thoroughly, your ass twerking as you bounce on his cock. Sam’s eyes go wide while he watches your beautiful, full backside shake for him. Lust and need take over his body. He reaches up and grabs your hips, lifting you up and slamming you back down on his length with force. He matches your rhythm as he thrusts up into you. The room fills with both of your sounds, drowning out the music still playing from your computer.

You moan and laugh in pleasure, riding him harder. Your wetness drips down his cock with each ram. “Oh fuck, you like this tight little pussy?” Sam pants and groans, his fingers melting into your hips as he fucks you with even more vigor. He gasps for breath, looking up at you with craving eyes. “God yes… I love it. You feel so good on my cock… oh god, don’t stop baby girl.”

You keep up an impressive pace, despite your thighs starting to burn and your insides becoming undone. Your toes curl next to his hips. Sam’s breathing becomes ragged, his thrusts turning more frantic as he feels himself getting closer to orgasm. He groans and grunts, sweat dripping down his forehead as he watches your body move on top of his. You lean back against his chest, fully sitting on his cock, continuing your bouncing. He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close as he unfalteringly thrusts into you. He buries his face in your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin as he loses himself in the sensations. “Shit, I’m close…”

Your head falls back onto his shoulder, wheezing at the intensity of your moment together. “Yeah, cum in this tight little cunt, Sammy. I know you want to.” You say, your voice sultry and weak. Sam’s hips buck wildly as he feels his climax approaching, your words sending him over the edge. With a hoarse cry, he jerks up into you one final time and erupts inside of you, his cum filling up your pussy as he rides out his orgasm. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…!”

You gasp at the sensation, your legs quivering as you sit on his dick. You shake and collapse onto his front. “Oh god, good boy… so good for me.” You and Sam pant heavily, his hands running up and down your sides while he comes down from his high – still buried deep inside of you. He nuzzles his face into your neck, kissing and licking at your skin with a satisfied grin. “You look so pretty when you’re full of my cum.” You blush and laugh at his indelicate comment, nudging him in the stomach with your elbow softly. “Jesus, Sam!” He laughs along with you. “What? It’s true!” You both catch a small fit of giggles, your minds reeling at the realization of everything that just happened between you two. You slide off of him and lay by his side, staring up to the ceiling. It’s nice that the comfort sticks around, even after doing something like this together. It becomes quiet, the music coming from the computer filling the silence.

Sam rolls to his side and props his head up onto his hand. He reaches out to gently trace your arm, a soft smile on his face. You turn your head to face him, matching his warmth with your eyes. Sam’s voice trickles off of his lips, approaching his next sentence delicately. “Y/n, I… don’t want this to be just a one night thing.” He looks at you tenderly, his fingers halting to hold your arm. “I-I don’t know why this happened tonight, but I’ve wanted it for so long and I just, I dunno… I want it to be something real.”

You don’t give Sam a moment to overthink, your words coming to reassure him without hesitation. “I want that too, Sam.” You look at him deeply, wanting your sincerity to strike him as much as it can. Sam’s eyes stutter as he registers your reply, his expression melting into unmistakable joy… and love. You giggle sweetly and lean in to kiss the tip of his nose. “You think I would let you stay over here so damn much if I didn’t want to be with you?” You both share a laugh once again, him capturing your lips in a heartfelt kiss. He pulls away and takes in the sight of you, your essence, your warmth… you. A spark of everything shoots through his chest, and he is perfectly happy. As are you.

You two lay together for a while, naked, just listening to the steady flow of music that seeps into the walls of the room. You finally sit up and stretch, your body still on full display for Sam. He feels a heat build back up in him, fueled further by his addressed and established love for you. You glance over to him, seeing that an arousal is building up between his legs once again. You fall into his arms, your chest embracing his. You say, with a mischievous tone, “So, do you wanna be in control next time? I’m aching to submit to you.”

Sam’s jaw nearly drops at your forwardness, his eyes lighting up with a hungry fervor. “Wait, really? Like I could… do whatever I want?” His voice is laced with thirst for you. You tilt your head sensually, your voice coming out smooth as silk. “What-ev-er. You. Want.”

Sam suddenly stands up, like he’s on a mission. He strides to your door, leaving and going toward your living room. You sit up confused, watching him as his determination spreads through the house. You hear him getting into the utility closet at the end of the hall, and your eyes widen at realization of what he’s thinking.

Sam steps in with a length of rope, remembering you had some extra in the closet from mending some fences together the other day. A blush overtakes your face and you look at him with a surprised, amused expression. He starts to laugh as if he knows exactly what you're about to say. “You perv! You’ve been thinking about using that on me since I put it in the closet days ago, haven’t you!” You both laugh boisterously, your playfulness filling the house. You settle and take a deep breath, some nerves spreading in your chest. “You really wanna tie me up, Sammy?”

He nods, a wide grin possessing his face while drive and desire possess his length. “If that’s okay with you?” He adds, hope clinging to his throat. You roll your eyes playfully and sigh, nodding and chuckling. “Yeah, get over here, you freak.”

He practically jumps at your words, sauntering over and gesturing for you to lay on your back. He delicately moves your hands above your head and starts tying them together with the middle of the rope. He slings both ends through the slits in between the wood of your headboard. You tilt your head up to watch where he’s going with this, his hands practically buzzing with excitement and arousal. He brings each end down to either side of you, lifting your legs out to your side and securing them in place. You can’t close your legs at all, your pussy exposed completely to him. He slips his fingers in between your skin and the rope to make sure it’s not too tight for you. “Are you comfortable? It doesn’t hurt does it?” He asks, before looking down at what he’s done, a scarlet red filling his face at the erotic sight. You smile, a bit vulnerable. “It feels good, just a bit… helpless, haha…” Sam swallows hard, and you can see the moment when uncontained ardor glazes his eyes. “You look so fucking hot like this, y/n.” You chuckle shyly, “I feel hot like this. I’m excited.”

Sam’s mouth waters, taking in your flushed skin where it meets the rope. He climbs onto the bed, crawling between your legs – his cock already dripping with pre-cum. “You have no idea how much I fucking want you right now.”

“Then show me.”

His eyes flash with a dark desire. He reaches down and puts pressure on the ropes, spreading your legs even further apart. He rubs the head of his dick against your slick entrance, teasing you. “Look how wet this is for me… I can’t wait to be inside of you again.” Your body squirms at the play, hardly being able to move because of the restraints. “F-fuck, Sam…”

Sam’s grin turns wicked at your restless movements. He pushes the head of his cock against your entrance again, applying pressure. “You want it so badly, don’t you? Beg for it, y/n.”

Your tone is pleading and desperate, “Please… please fuck me… fuck your pretty little girlfriend.”

Sam’s control snaps at your words, and he pushes himself inside of you in one swift thrust, making you cry out in pleasure. He starts to fuck you hard and fast – an almost punishing pace – each thrust causing the bed to creak beneath you. “Fuck… yes…” he growls. Your body tries to instinctively tense up, but the ropes hold you in place well. Your face flushes as you better understand how truly vulnerable you are under Sam’s touch right now. Sam grabs onto the ropes for leverage, spreading your legs open and pulling them further apart as he pounds deeper into you. “You’re taking me so well.” He groans, causing your eyes to flutter shut. “You’re loving this, aren’t you baby girl?”

“Oh god…” you moan from the strain of the ropes and the pressure of his cock filling up your stomach, “...I love it. I love it so fucking much.” Sam beams with pride, picking up the pace even more. He pounds into you relentlessly, the headboard slapping against the wall with each movement. “That’s right, moan for me… let me hear how much you love my cock.”

You throw your head back and ferally moan, taking in every inch over and over again. Sam manifests a triumphant grin when he sees how much you’re into this. He starts to fuck you faster, losing himself in you. The bed groans loudly under the force of your intimacy, the headboard finding a rhythmic melody above you. “Take it all.” Sam whispers raggedly. You respond with a whimpered, pathetic moan. “Y-you’re gonna break me baby… oh fuck… shit…”

Sam’s grin morphs into a lascivious smirk as he hears your words. He grabs your hips and starts to slam into you even harder, fucking you like his life depends on it. “Good. I wanna break you. You need to scream my name.” Your body lashes in the restraints as Sam’s name forces its way from your throat, echoing through the room.

His eyes roll back in satisfaction as his name claims your lips. He pounds you with all his might, the force causing your body to bounce on the bed. “That’s it! Scream for me! Let everyone know who’s fucking you good!” Your vocal cords take on a mind of their own, “Sam! Sam! I love your fucking cock, oh my god!”

Sam’s heart swells with pride and adoration. He leans over you, pushing more on the ropes. “You love my cock? You love it?”

“I love it… I need it… every night, oh my god…” Your pussy drips with intense pleasure and you feel your walls tighten as you reach your edge. He throws his head back and moans brutally as he feels your pussy squeeze around him. He pounds you a few more times before slamming in deep and stilling, his cock twitching as he cums inside of you. “F-fuck… you’re mine… all mine.”

“Oh god, I’m all yours… fuck…” You reply as you writhe in your restraints, your body recoiling from your release. You breathe raggedly. Sam slowly pulls out of you, a satisfied tiredness on his face. He takes a moment to admire his work – your flushed face, your body trembling from the aftershocks of the pleasure, the evidence of his claim still dripping from your pussy. “Look at you…”

You look at him, all fucked out, your body still held by the ropes. He walks over, undoing your restraints with a wink. “You good, baby? Was I too rough?” “That was so… fucking good…” Your limbs go limp as he releases you, your chest rising and falling raggedly. Sam lazily climbs into bed beside you, pulling you into his arms as he slumps to his side. He kisses you softly, every ounce of his skin humming in sensitivity. “Yeah, it really was.” You two regain your breath, finding a pattern in each other's lungs to follow as you drift to a satiated slumber.

The morning comes  and you sit up slowly, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. Your gaze floats over to Sam. His chest rises gracefully, a peace surrounding him… pulling you in. You move forward and kiss him gently, love flooding out of your lips. His eyes flutter open, breathing deeply and returning the kiss. You pull back. “Hey.”

“Hey” he replies, his voice raspy and sleepy.

“Don’t go home.”

“Okay, I’ll leave tomorrow.”

You shake your head and reach out to caress his cheek. You lean in and kiss him once more. “No…  just don’t go home, period.”

Sam’s eyes light up, a love he’s never felt before settling deep in his chest, seeping into his bones.

“I am home.”

[xalygatorx]

Le Petit Mori (Zestial x AFAB!Reader)

Written for Hooked on Hazbin 2024, an event by the wonderful @fraugwinska & @macabr3-barbi3 ❤️

Minors DNI, you are responsible for your own media consumption

Summary: You're offered a deal by one of the most ancient killers in the Entity's realm. You take it.

Warnings: Angsty smut, graphic (game-typical) violence, blood, descriptions of pain, the reader is a survivor but not a good person, they're also losing it a little, Zestial is in Hell (or the Entity's realm) for a reason, some body horror, one (1) movie reference, oral (reader receiving), penetrative sex, creampie, exhibitionism, size kink, reader wants to live deliciously, solo queue will wear you down, it gets a bit monster-fucky, AFAB!reader

A/N: For anyone here from my Hazbin crowd who isn't familiar with Dead by Daylight (DBD), here's a short(?) summary for some optional context.

DBD is an asymmetrical—one killer vs. a team of four survivors—horror game that is, in essence, freeze tag.

At its base level (lots of things can affect outcomes like match offerings and character perks and addons), the survivors' goal is to repair 5 generators to power the exit gates and escape alive. The killer's goal is to kill the survivors before that can happen.

The "freeze tag" element is executed via a hooking system—survivors can be hooked (literally) twice without dying as long as they're unhooked in a timely manner. Their third hook is their "death hook" and they're out of the game at that point.

When there's only one survivor left in a match, an escape hatch spawns in a random location on the map to give the lone survivor one last chance at escaping the trial.

There are lots of other ins and outs to the game as a whole (it can get convoluted), but this is the bare bones and I think all you'll really "need" for this oneshot. :) If you're just here for the smut and the sexual tension, you won't need any of it at all. LOL

If you have questions about specific details in the story related to game stuff, I'll happily answer them in the comments.

Good luck, have fun. x

Also on AO3

You don't know what you did—that not-knowing is the crux of everything you know now, as strange as that sounds.

You don't know why you stepped out into the road that day. Why instead of the impact of a fender, you felt gnarled, eldritch claws hook into you and pull. Why you were probably dead already and yet had to die again and again and again and again and again every goddamn day. Why the other "survivors," as you dead souls were all called, didn't trust you. Why you cared whether they did or not.

You suppose it's because this marrow-deep loneliness sometimes feels colder than death. It might've been easier to stomach oblivion—in fact, you're sure it would've been.

Instead, you're in the worst purgatory you can conceive of. A limbo of running for your life, tungsten hooks through your shoulders and already bloodied by the viscera of those sacrificed before you, and the same hateful eyes staring at you, through you, as the claws of the false god known only as the Entity spear you through and pull you up into where the fog is thickest. The same vacant, raging eyes of a killer simply masked within different faces.

All but one. One seemed to hate you less than the others—even less than your supposed "friends" by the campfire.

He still killed you. They all did. And despite his clear, present, and vibrant green gaze whenever he looked at you—whenever he smiled at you—he terrified you more than any of them.

Because the Overlord looked at you and saw you and saw something that made him keep looking. Maybe that was why the other survivors treated you like a killer the Entity could send home with them.

You feel not-so-hateful eyes on you that night after your last trial as you sit wrapping a sachet stuffed with herbs and laurel leaves from the nearby bog. Your hands still and you glance toward the source of the feeling, noting Claudette furtively watching your progress as she wrings her scarred, careful hands.

Caught, she fills the silence. "You're getting better at making those," she says, nodding toward the bundle balanced on your knee and the twine you're wrapping around it.

You nod a couple of times, acknowledging what she said although you aren't sure what she wants from the interaction. No one talks to you. At least not like this. She usually doesn't either, but she was more skittish than baleful in her avoidance. Claudette was the nicest and also the meekest of the bunch.

"It gets easier," she suddenly offers, pulling you out of your thoughts again. The fire crackles nearby and shadows are wrought up her drawn, concerned features. "They'll… They'll get nicer. You're still new. They're not used to new people. And there's a lot at stake out there."

"Thalita and Renato are newer than I am," you point out. There's no animosity in your tone, just facts. Your voice is hoarse from the screaming you did today.

Claudette sighs, glancing at the flames. "You're right," she admits. "I'm not sure why it's different for them. Maybe because they came together. Or maybe because they're similar in a lot of ways to a few of the others. You're…different. I can't put my finger on it, but there's a different energy to you, I guess."

"You're sounding like Mikaela," you point out, but it's with a faint smile cast her way as you go back to tying up your sachet.

She laughs and it relaxes her a little. "I know," she says, curling her knees up to her chest and resting her arms against the tops of them. "But I think I mean it. And, hey, it's helped you here and there in the trials so far, so it must be a good 'different'."

You know she's talking about the killers occasionally letting you go. That had been the first reason you'd considered for the others disliking you so much—that they were jealous of the number of times you'd already been delivered to the hatch or an open gate no matter how hateful the killer's stare—but it seemed to go deeper than that. Much deeper.

And they didn't even know about Zestial's apparent fixation with you.

"I think they've just done that because I'm new," you say, even if you didn't entirely believe it. "Can killers feel pity?"

"None that I've met," Claudette replies. "And I've been here a long time."

"How long?" you venture to ask.

Claudette's eyes grow distant, glazed by memory, and she purses her lips. "…I'm not sure. But long."

"Claude."

You both jolt a little at the hard tone that comes with Claudette's nickname. Jake casts a wary glance your way before returning his gaze to your sole companion at the fireside and jerking his head back toward the camp past the trees. "C'mon. It's late."

It was a sorry excuse to get her away from you. You didn't need to sleep here. Or eat, or drink, or rest. Purgatory.

Still, Claudette doesn't refuse him and doesn't point out his inconsistencies. She stands, brushes off her pants, and glances at you one more time.

"Hope you get some rest after today," she says, chafing one hand against her arm despite the heat from the fire. Again, she says, "It'll get easier."

Jake clears his throat and Claudette scampers away like an anxious rabbit, walking ahead of him into the trees to join the others. He looks back at you one more time, measuring you up, before nodding once and following your resident healer.

It was maybe the second time he'd acknowledged you since you were dragged here by the Entity months(?) ago. You had a feeling he only did because Claudette seemed to like you well enough and he didn't want to disappoint her.

Your fingers still against the twine and your eyes dip down to the fire.

You could still feel him.

From the first time, he never really left you. You still remember it. Meeting those brilliant green eyes across an expanse of Yamaoka, fiery slits cutting the dark, before you knew what being the first to look upon him in a trial would do.

Panic had laced through your ribs, clawed through your insides, and your thoughts had scrambled along with your teammates'. A perk of being the Overlord.

David's nails had raked deep, long scratches down his face as he screamed for the killer's aural effects to wear off. You heard them even now, the screams to "make it stop." He'd not been quite the same for days after and because he'd been the one to put those scratches in his face, they left the trial with him, too. Every time Claudette had sat down beside him to clean the cuts, he'd nearly leapt out of his skin.

Meg had been tunnel-visioned on a generator for once in her life and hadn't realized how close Zestial was until her body buckled with exposure and he swiped her right off the gen and straight to the ground. You learned in that precise instant what "exposure" meant in this realm as she lay on the dirt, bleeding and coughing, her fingertips burnt from where they'd tangled in the wires and caused the gen to backfire with her fall.

Yun-Jin had bolted immediately. You'd come to learn this was expected from her—she was efficient and bold, but she was nowhere near altruistic. You'd been left in a trial by her in exchange for a gate or on a hook for the hatch more times than you could count.

At least she didn't specifically hate you, it seemed—by what you could glean from catching the others' conversations and the trials you'd been in with her since, she treated everyone with equal detachment. It was how she protected herself, you imagined, in more ways than one.

After half the team had bolted and you stayed frozen in place, your eyes shifted back to the killer you'd never seen before that trial.

Zestial. "The Overlord." A towering, enigmatic figure of glowing eyes and void-black spines, wrapped up in a cloak that flowed like spider silk. Had you seen him in any other context, you may have scoffed at first—he looked like Halloween personified.

However, standing there, stock-still in horror as he stared back at you and smiled, you didn't have breath in your lungs to scoff. You'd told yourself every day since that it was only due to fear.

You'd never been the best at lying to yourself.

Meg had been the one to finally jar you enough to flee when she gritted from the ground, "Fucking run, you idiot!"

You'd stumbled back and done as she said, nearly tripping over your own feet in your haste to leave the hulking figure and everything, everything he stirred in you behind. You chanced a glance over your shoulder as you left and saw that he'd picked Meg up at last—just one of his enormous, spidery hands was enough to fully encircle her waist.

Your eyes met his once more and he smirked, his free hand thumbing the brim of his tall hat in an antiquated gesture of farewell. The instant you turned away, your chest constricted with the feeling of needly claws around your heart and you hissed through your teeth. You looked down and saw those finger-like claws of the Entity in miniature beneath the skin of your chest, nearly retching at the way they stretched your flesh.

When you'd collapsed at a gen next to David, he'd glanced over and seen the new deformation around your throbbing heart.

"Fuck me," he mumbled, his scratched cheeks still trickling blood as he fought dissociation to focus on the generator in front of him. "I didn't know he did obsessions."

He did apparently. But only when you were in the trial. And it was always you.

You'd all died that first trial with minimal effort on Zestial's part. You'd come to understand later that this was perhaps a display of the ease with which he could dispatch you at any point. Because subsequent trials with him were different. Much different.

The most memorable one had been the last one, perhaps a week ago now assuming your sense of time could be trusted, in the Red Forest. Mother's Dwelling specifically, if you had the map variants correct. Cold rain had drizzled down from a steely sky as you'd felt that painful cage wrap around your heart again, warning you that you were the obsession in this trial as you set off to find a chest.

It'd been quite some time since you'd last faced the Overlord prior to then and you'd been able to write off his smirks and gestures as part of his persona up until that point. It had nothing to do with you.

Or so you'd thought.

It hadn't even occurred to you to be wary of the chests. It wasn't one of the Lich's and unless whoever the killer was this trial had a specific perk to notify them that a chest was being disturbed, you saw no reason to fret. Your only concern was getting it open and looted before you ran into the whoever the killer was this round.

You'd prayed for a toolbox to replace the one you'd foolishly forgotten at the campfire as you reached for the lid, only to be stalled by something you couldn't immediately see.

You'd tried to give your arms a shake, eyes narrowing with confusion until realization dawned. Glistening, diamondlike droplets of rainwater clung to the near-invisible strands of spider web woven in thick, previously hidden layers over the chest you'd reached for and had secured you in place on contact.

"Flies in a Web," you'd whispered in horror as you recognized the perk effect and forced yourself to still.

Feng had told you about this one after she'd been ensnared by it once before and had stopped you from trying to help her out of it. She'd held completely still and told you to do the same if you were ever in her position, even if you could shake them off faster at a cost—struggling against these webs would bring the Overlord right to you.

It was him again.

And it didn't matter that you'd stilled, it seemed. The air had shifted and staled, feeling heavy in itself, as a humid breath fanned across the back of your neck.

You'd jolted. You couldn't help it. And the next warm exhale came in the form of a chuckle because of that.

Don't turn around, don't turn around, don't turn around…

You hung your head and held your breath. The second you looked at him, you'd reveal your teammates with that same panic that always started a trial against him—you wouldn't be the one to do it this time. Not again. Not when it would hinder your team and give you an exposure effect for an even easier down. Not that he needed help to accomplish that.

"Wouldst thou like to live deliciously?"

You froze. He could speak? You'd only ever heard a handful of killers do more than grunt. The Overlord had been silent up to this point save for the occasional chuckle or sneer, as far as you knew.

Your heart had flown, aching in its cage of claws, as you focused on not collapsing into a panic of your own, of keeping your eyes down and remaining still as you waited for the claustrophobic sensation to be dispelled with the webbing on your arms. It couldn't be much longer now…

Zestial had chuckled in your ear, his hot breath against the shell making you shiver in spite of yourself. "So responsive in all but voice… I asked thee a question," he murmured.

You'd been horrified at yourself as his deep timbre sent a shock of heat down to your core. Shaking off the unwelcome sensation as best as you could, you'd wondered if it was better for you to speak to him.

He'd likely kill you either way, wouldn't he? What was the harm?

"What do you mean?" you ventured to ask, still keeping your eyes trained on your hands as you waited for his webs to disintegrate and tried to hold off activating his first-sight perk you couldn't remember the name of.

In truth, the altruistic thing for you to have done would've been to look back at him and trigger it early—no one else was nearby, so only you would be exposed. But you weren't trying to save the others anymore by then. You weren't near so selfless anymore after the last handful of trials in which you'd been left to die over and over.

You wouldn't protect them anymore the way you had. Not for free.

"I meant what I hath said. Is this enough for thee f'r the rest of thy days?" he purred against your ear, the heat of him now settled just behind your back and the contrastingly cold skin of his cheek near to brushing yours. "Or doth thee desire more?"

Perhaps once, you would've used some semblance of faith to shrug off what could only be called a devil's temptation. But where was your God when you died? When the Entity—a real god, if a false one—dragged you into what could only be regarded as Hell itself? What did you have now to fight this feeling?

Nothing. So why should you?

The Overlord sensed your hesitation and whispered, "Forsake thy friends. Forsake thy freedom, if thee can liken this to such distant dreams. I can off'r thee a deal beyond aught else in this realm of the damned. If thou wouldst only allow it…"

"What deal?" you whispered back, your gaze starting to slowly travel back toward where his mouth hovered near your ear. The webs had gone from your arms, but you hadn't noticed, enraptured by this quiet voice full of promises.

"What doth thou wish?" he wondered.

You'd hesitated only to jolt in place when you felt his huge hands rest against your thighs—they would've been able to wrap fully around them if he'd angled them so. However, he trailed his spread, spindly fingers up along the inner seam of your jeans and sent shocks of desire to the vee he deftly avoided to instead trace his claws against the hem of your shirt and the soft skin beneath.

You'd not been able to help rubbing your thighs together to try and dispel the sensation—a meager, quick shift of your body but he'd noticed. A dark chuckle had left him after.

"Methinks I may know, little one."

A generator finally popped in the distance, freeing both of you from whatever spell he'd placed you under. A faint sound of irritation rumbled in his throat and you felt him rise behind you to leave. You felt your body stiffen, learnedly bracing for impact.

"Think on thine sins," he advised you in parting. "Those thou hast committed ere this night…and those thy dream of anon. I will await thine answer."

You'd (stupidly) turned to look at him then and had just been lucky he'd left already. You had the chest open—it'd been a first-aid kit in the end—and had seated yourself at a gen before you heard and felt his panic-inducing perk activate. You had immediately fumbled the wires you were working on, cursed at yourself, and tried to get the repairs back to where they'd been before your misfire.

He'd properly gotten in your head that night. And he's still there. Even now, sitting beside the campfire and bundling offerings, you can feel his hands on your legs. His fingertips tracing upward, just shy of where you—Heaven help you—wanted him most.

Your jaw clenches. It's no wonder everyone is creeped out by you. You're sick.

Shaking off those thoughts of self-loathing, you look back down at the offering you're making and immediately recoil hard enough for it to tumble off your knees.

The sachet had been speared through, all but replaced by the bones and guts of a tanager bird and wound up in the same knots of twine. Worst of all, it was fashioned into a formation that resembled the arms of the Entity. You'd stared up into those ascending arms so many times already, both as you lay dying among them and in the times you were seconds too late to save someone else.

Where the bundle clattered to the dirt near the fire, sparks leapt out and ignited it. The acrid smell of burning bloody offal hit your nose as the offering you had apparently made was turned to ash at your feet.

The shaky breath that fell from your lips obscured the softer, deviant chuckle that ghosted from beyond where the flickering light of the flames could reach.

"Whatever's fucking with you today, get over it now," Meg grits at you as you walk with her, Jonah, and Claudette to the starting area. "I'm not saving your ass every time you get yourself hooked in the endgame. There could've been 'Blood Warden' and then we would've all gotten killed! Don't get fucking hooked when the gates are open!"

"Don't be so harsh, Meg," Claudette pleads, surveying their surroundings with undisguised unease as the woodsy path shivers around them and shifts into the Eyrie. Crows swarm the top of the tower at the center of the map, their cries piercing the air.

You grind your teeth together as you feel your chest constrict. You're the obsession this round. Some quiet, surely deranged part of you wonders with something almost eager if it's the Overlord again.

"If I'm not harsh, none of them ever learn," Meg shoots back and the two of them share a thousand-yard look that only comes from being in the throes of the Entity's grasp for so long. Something vulnerable passes through Meg's expression, but it's quickly extinguished as she turns back toward the map. "Hurry up. We're wasting time."

She walks past you with a hard clip of her shoulder to yours and you stumble, body rigid as you swallow your anger and the urge to scream at her. To turn on her. To put her on a hook yourself.

Have you always been this filled with rage?

You almost swing at the person who touches you next, but you still when you meet Claudette's apologetic eyes.

"She means well," she says softly, imploringly.

"Yeah," you murmur, shying away from her hand and heading into the arena, yourself. "You keep saying that."

What are you supposed to think when the kindest touch, the kindest offer you'd yet received in this wretched place had come from someone who had killed you? Who would likely kill you again? And again?

And again.

As you pass one of the sandstone outcroppings, you pause and listen. A faint crackling sound meets your ears again, almost as easily mistaken for the dead tree branches also rustling nearby despite a lack of wind. When you step back and worm your way through the rocky formations, you spot a lit totem nestled against a stony curve. You hunker down into a crouch and set to work dismantling it, working your lip between your teeth as you do so.

What would they do?

In your place, if offered an out—or even a sliver of something, anything!—from one of the killers, the persuasive Overlord in particular, what would the others do? They acted high and mighty with you at times, certainly, but you couldn't imagine they wouldn't buckle at least a little at the notion of…whatever it was you were being offered.

He'd left that up to you, hadn't he?

The last ties around the bones beneath your hands slip free and a resounding crack echoes through the map as the hex breaks and the flames licking the skulls now decorating the ground die away with a flicker.

Normally the thing to do would've been to hurry off. Go find a gen or at least walk around the corner in case the killer comes to see who's meddling with their plans.

You stay though. The squeeze of the cage in your chest increases as blood begins to roar in your ears and the air swells with something that just bridges the gap between music and a coming storm. The faint keen of a violin confirms who you will turn to see before you shift your gaze upward.

Meeting Zestial's eyes has its usual first-time effect. Panic rises in the form of bile in your throat and you hear your teammates shriek, near and far, from their stations. Anxiety muddles your senses, panic that isn't yours but induced by the power itself.

You feel a little drop of blood run from your nose as you hold his stare and watch his Jack-O-Lantern smile creep higher up his cheeks.

"Bold of thee not to flee, little one," he intones, stepping closer until he stands with you in the stone crevasse, his towering figure easily surpassing the height of the formations. "Or foolish. Unless, of course, thou hast come to some conclusion…"

He leans down toward your face to study your eyes. You saw them—wide and unsure—reflected in his. "I am most eager to learn which is thine truth."

"I think I want…," you force yourself to stammer out, stopping and holding a hand against your mouth as you hesitate. You could smell the dusty earth still on your fingertips from the totem, lingering notes of sand and rot.

"Go on," Zestial urges you, his tone kind and encouraging while something impatient like hunger alights his eyes.

"A deal," you finally choke out.

All four of his luminescent lime-green eyes flare at your words.

"A deal forsooth?" he purrs, the top pair of his eyes flickering with red irises for an instant until they calm back to a placid lake of pure green once more. "How curious. I am listening with mine full attention. As is She."

"She?" you repeat in a lowered voice, instinctively glancing around for signs of Meg or Claudette.

The Overlord chuckles. "The Entity, little one," he explains, his smile curling into a sinister grin as if sharing a well-kept secret. "She hungers."

"For what?" you ask, realizing how dumb your question sounds only after you speak it into existence.

Zestial merely hums though, as if your silly question is worth consideration. "For thine bodies of course," he says and the way his voice drops into a deeper tone sends shivers skimming up your spine. His eyes narrow on you and, although there are no pupils present to follow, you can feel him taking you in. "An unending craving nigh only sacrifice may appease."

"And whatever you're offering…has something to do with that?" you inquire with caution.

He smiles at you, the expression almost warm. When was the last time someone looked at you with warmth?

Something inside you begins to break. Is it from the pressure of the cage around your heart? You ask yourself that, even knowing it isn't.

"Forsooth, little one," he practically coos down at you, painfully gentle as he brushes the trail of blood away from your nose.

Somewhere a gen pops and your gaze flickers sideways toward the sound while his own stays completely fixed upon you. He takes your chin and turns your attention back to him, the grip of his long, clawed fingers tight but not painful. Not yet.

"Thy fate is sealed upon manifesting within this realm to oppose me," he warns you as you fight the urge to sag into his touch. The danger and the savior—he represents both now and you aren't sure which one is the truth.

He has you right where he wants you—a fly in a web.

"What doth thou wish to exchange f'r the heads of thy comrades? For thy head, verily?"

Your eyes widen. You'd committed to not sticking your neck out for the others anymore, but to offer them on a platter to the Entity? To him?

They would do it to you, whispers a traitorous voice, a tickle in the back of your skull. It doesn't entirely sound like yours though. They would sell you in an instant. You know it to be true.

"That's the only option?" you ask carefully, shuddering as he curiously runs his fingertips along your jawline. Around a lock of your hair. "That's the only way?"

Zestial nods with feigned compassion. "It is the only currency of this realm. Naught else is valued," he tells you as his hand skims down to your throat. "Or little else, perhaps, with regards to thee."

"What do you mean?" you ask again, feeling like it's the tenth time you've asked the same question.

It's hard to focus when he's touching you with hands that can and have plucked you right off your feet and slammed you onto a meat hook. When he's instead brushing those same digits across your scarred flesh with a rare, unspoken tenderness.

It isn't lost on you that a being that could kill you, that is meant to kill you and is choosing not to, instead finds you interesting enough to touch. To bargain with. In fact, it's disturbingly enthralling to you, but you don't realize that until heat blossoms in your core again, just like before.

Zestial just smiles at you instead of answering your repetitious question. He knows you needn't ask any longer what he means by his implications. You know.

You swallow hard under his burning gaze. "Okay," you murmur at last. If you were going to die again anyway, you should at least get something out of it.

"Exquisite," he whispers, running the pad of this thumb across your lower lip and freeing it from your teeth. "And what of thine reward, hm?"

You shudder. Your thighs tense and squeeze together as you draw in a shaky breath. His charcoal skin smells like brimstone, ink, and old books—you catch traces of all three as he continues to stroke your face.

"I thought you knew," you murmur sheepishly, shame washing over you.

"Of course, I do," Zestial coos, encroaching further on your personal space as the hand holding your chin tips your head back. Another two gens pop in succession as he murmurs, "For the sake of our deal, I would have thee speak it."

Your face goes red with deepened shame as he stares down at you expectantly, holding your head in a grip that doesn't allow you to look away. "Please…," is all you can muster, the barest breath of a whisper.

"Please…?" he coaxes you to continue as his free hand slides around the small of your back. Presses your smaller, so much more breakable body against his.

Something unmistakably hard digs into your stomach as he holds you to him and you fear you might give away your very soul for free in this moment if he only asks.

This is also what finally pulls the words out of you that he is looking to hear.

"Please just… I just want to feel good," you plead, feeling weak beyond measure as the dam breaks. A stream of tears escapes your right eye and falls against his hand. "I can't remember the last time I felt anything but hurt or angry or alone… I just want to feel good. Just for a little while. So I…"

You avert your eyes—shame reignites in your belly. You still aren't fully sure what you're asking for—or rather what you'll get by asking for it—even as you, at last, confess your poorly concealed desire.

"…I want you to fuck me."

Zestial's brow rises despite knowing that's where this was heading all along—all these centuries in the Entity's realm and he's never quite gotten used to the way modern language has worked in such harsh words with such casual meanings. Yet these particular sharp words from you inspire a dark coil in his gut that makes your request feel just as much his reward as it will be yours.

"Thine wish is for the taking," he murmurs as he slides the hand cradling your face down your neck to your shoulder—past the puncture scars he himself has added to—and then ultimately down to your hand. He clasps it as a flash of green light erupts from between your palms, his engulfing yours in full. "And a deal is struck."

You very nearly whine when he lets you go, but you swallow the sound. Somehow, despite quieting before you can embarrass yourself, he seems well aware of your disappointment.

"Do not beest so somber, little one," he murmurs, playfully tapping your nose with the tip of a claw. "Thine aura is mine to behold—and mine is thine. Aid thy sacrifices, then thou mayst find me in the collapse. I shall linger with bated breath 'til next we meet."

You aren't sure how you're meant to manage the elixir of dread and arousal flooding your veins until that time, but you do as he asks. Slinking off, you find an unrepaired generator and come across Jonah already bumbling through repairs on one side, the sluggish rate of the pistons something you might've found discouraging had you not already known how the trial would end.

How, for once, you were looking forward to the endgame.

Jonah gets his wires crossed and the generator blows back at him with a series of cantankerous sparks. He waves the air in front of him and glances at you fleetingly but with an air of sheepishness in place of his usually dismissive gaze. You just shrug and nod at the gen for him to get back to it, your own deftly done repairs already getting most of the progress back that he'd lost with his error.

The silent understanding between you isn't unwelcome. It's just a touch too late.

Your gen pops to life and Zestial suddenly swoops in out of the shadows, raking his claws up your back and shoving you aside to lunge after Jonah. Your fellow survivor bolts, panicking into a vault he's not ready to take and paying for it with a loss of speed—Zestial easily plucks him from the sill and drags him, kicking and thrashing in protest, toward the nearest hook.

You pull yourself off the ground by gripping the finished gen, stumbling away and wondering for an instant if you hallucinated the entire exchange between you and the Overlord earlier on. You suppose you might be unhinged enough by now to be delusional. Perhaps this was the more likely outcome anyway.

However, a sideways glance of his glowing green eyes and a faint, almost rueful smile says that you didn't and he's instead helping both of you save face. You scurry off to find a med kit or one of your teammates to help you patch up.

Meg finds you before you find anything at all. She spots your blood trail after dismantling a dull totem near the mausoleum and follows you, nearly startling you into a cry when she suddenly steps up behind you and pushes you down to her level.

"Quiet," she mumbles, pulling the fabric of your T-shirt back from the bleeding clawmarks. She begins rummaging in her pockets for the remnant of a bandage roll she still has from the med kit she came in with. Zestial must've gotten her earlier, too, before finding you and Jonah.

She pulls the bandages too tight when she's distracted by Jonah screaming in the distance, suspended at last on a sacrificial hook. When she hears the hmph of discomfort that escapes you, she shakes off her nerves and mutters a halfhearted, "Sorry."

Bandaged up and mobile, you readjust your shirt and she hangs back to help you—perhaps a wordless apology for her earlier attitude—and then sprints in the direction of Jonah's cries without further ado.

There's one generator left to do before the gates are powered and, spurred on by a drive that rivals anything the Entity could've inspired in you before, you find it. Claudette's already on it, blood dripping from her back, which has been sliced not dissimilarly to yours.

Something in you begins to eat at itself when you consider offering to help her wrap her wounds, knowing despite that surge of compassion what your deal with the Overlord—at least to some degree—will ultimately do to her. You know this time that going through the motions of suturing or binding up her cuts won't stop her from being annihilated with the rest of the team, yourself included, when the realm begins its tradition of falling apart around you. It's a time-old ritual of splintering, festering earth and the deep, foreboding toll of a bell you can't see with each tone signifying another moment to escape transpired.

You still offer because you aren't a monster, even if you're starting to feel a bit like one.

"Do you want to patch those up before we pop this?" you ask, pausing to glance behind you to make sure you're alone.

Claudette gives you a watery smile and stops what she's doing, presenting her back to you as she passes you her unused first-aid supplies.

"See?" she says as you pop open the box and get out some disinfectant and a suture set. "You're getting better. I was about to set this off like the Entity just dragged me down here yesterday."

Guilt pools in the base of your stomach. It rivals oddly with the lingering lust. The shame is spread evenly between the two, bridging the gap.

"It's not always the smart thing to do, I guess, but since we have time," you muse, hoping you sound as casual as you're attempting to.

"Yeah, it's weird," Claudette says, wincing a little as your unpracticed hands stitch her wounds but saying nothing to discourage you. "Folie à Deux happened pretty early"—that's what his panic perk is called—"and then we didn't see hide nor hair of him until just a few minutes ago. Did you see him first or did Jonah?"

Your belly churns. "I did," you say honestly. "I cleansed that hex and happened to see him when I was leaving the area. I think he was coming back to see who'd broken it."

"That was a good early find," Claudette says, but she doesn't seem to be paying attention in full to what she's saying. "Who knows what that might've been."

You hum agreement as you finish bandaging over her stitches. "All done," you say, handing her back the remainder of her med kit and settling yourself adjacent to her spot at the gen.

"Thanks," she murmurs, the sparks from the wires she tinkers with reflecting in her large glasses as she picks up where she left off. "I think we may all get out this time."

You can taste your own stomach acid as you say, "I hope so."

The generator pops and the gate sirens wail, one coming from across the map while the other goes off directly behind you both.

"C'mon!" she says, eagerly pulling you toward the gate just past the stone wall you're situated behind.

You hesitate, turning to look back at the eyrie and the graveyards sprawled around it. You espy a tall, rosy silhouette—an aura—within the eyrie itself, ascending the stairs with such grace it almost appears to glide.

When you make yourself look away to figure out how to escape Claudette's attention, you notice the switch she's about to grab.

"Wait!" you suddenly shout, stalling her with your urgency. "Look!"

Claudette casts a confused look at the switch but gives you the benefit of the doubt and steps around to view it from the same angle as you. Thick, faintly dusted ropes of spiderweb layer over the switch, presenting a trap for anyone too eager to pull the handle.

"Ugh," she mumbles, shrinking back from the spiderwebs. "Good eye. Maybe Meg and Jonah have the other one done already. Let's go see."

"I'll catch up," you say and she pauses to cock her head at you. "I have a glyph I was supposed to find. I'm going to take the long way around to see if I can spot it."

Claudette hesitates. "…Okay," she slowly agrees. "But don't get yourself killed, alright? We've made it this far. And the Overlord's not someone to screw around with." She cracks a smile. "Plus, I think Meg will actually kill you this time if you get hooked after they get the gate open again."

You shrug and offer her the best smile you have available. "Probably," you agree. "I won't be long."

Claudette blessedly leaves you to it and you feel bad about how easily she believes your lies. Even though warning her would do nothing, you still feel a slight urge to do so as you wait for her to leave and then begin your walk to the center building.

Still though, even if she was never cruel to you, did she ever really help you? What did you owe her, in all actuality?

Perhaps what you'd already given her—a healing touch and a well-wish. A chance for a gate you knew that, one way or another, none of you would be crossing today.

The cawing of the circling murder gets louder as you enter the building, the acoustics of the structure the truest thing of horror on this godforsaken map. At pace, but on shaky legs, you round to the stairs and begin the climb, spotting the static silhouette of the Overlord through the far wall on the top floor. Outside on the balcony.

When you arrive, you see that this side of the wraparound ledge provides a perfect vantage point of the other gate.

"Behold," Zestial murmurs as you join him, standing a polite distance from his side.

You follow his gesturing hand to the gate and see Jonah down there, still injured—likely because Meg used the last of her bandages on you—and holding down the gate lever with the strength he could still muster. It'd always bemused you how hard he took his first hook. While the rest of you were running on fumes and a death wish, every cut and minor inconvenience seemed to take years off his undead life.

The gate buzzer sounded. Once. Then twice. And then three times as the doors rattled open.

The entire gateway past the doors was covered in layer upon layer of webbing. So thick that the entirety of the other side, the exit and the field that would take them all back to the campfire, was obscured. There may as well have been nothing there at all.

You swear you can somehow hear them from your perch despite knowing it's impossible. Still, you aren't sure you need to hear Meg say "what the fuck" to know that Meg has said "what the fuck."

Your concern is flaky at best as you feel Zestial's hulking form slide up behind you, the expanse of his hands folding over your hips and pulling you back against the straining erection beneath his silken robes. You shudder, that mixture of fear and longing back and burning in your core, slicking the heat beneath your skirt. He hums softly against your hair, inhaling deep, and you aren't sure how you know, but you know he can smell your arousal by the way he presses harder against you.

"Thine sacrifice is made, little one. Thy first," he whispers over the shell of your ear, sounding almost proud. He shifts you by your hips, turning you and walking you back against the stone wall behind you both.

For a second, you think he might be shielding you from whatever is about to happen down on the ground, but he's doing no such thing.

Like you weigh nothing, he lifts you up, presses your back against the stone, and positions your legs over his shoulders. Your thighs clench in needy humiliation as Zestial puts himself at eye level with your wet, aching hole beneath just a skirt and the thin fabric of your underwear. You bite back a groan as he noses into the wet spot you've made there. You're practically panting as his hands curl fully around your thighs and he nuzzles into your heat with abandon.

Hooking a claw beneath the waistband, he removes the slip of fabric from beneath your skirt with surgical precision, tearing it out of his way and smirking at the way your body jerks with surprise above him. He feels your fingers burying themselves against his back for balance, not fully trusting him with your weight or at least not completely understanding that you weigh next to nothing straddling his shoulders.

The deep inhale he takes of your near-to-dripping cunt feels like sin incarnate.

"We begin," he murmurs just as the first bell of the endgame collapse belatedly tolls and he slides his too-long, monstrous tongue languidly along your lower lips.

Meanwhile, you remain hoisted and pinned in place, left to helplessly watch that which you've wrought upon the match. All while desperately grasping for purchase on his cloaked shoulders as he plows your tight channel with his tongue, reaching far deeper than your human fingers could ever go. It takes no time at all for him to have you moaning, crying out for relief, and wriggling in his grasp while your teammates scream for a far different release below.

"There has to be a way out, there has to be another way out!" Meg is rambling, in a full-blown panic. Her voice hitches up into a shriek as she yells, "There's ALWAYS another way out!"

"The other gate had webs on the switch, but maybe it's clear inside!" Claudette stammers, her eyes wet with frightened tears. "But wait, we have to get—"

"Forget her!" Meg shouts, her fingers knotting into her hair as she claws at her scalp. "She went off on her own and, even if she were over here with us, she's just as fucked!"

Claudette nods, reaching for Meg's arm and then thinking better of touching her right now. "Then let's—"

Claudette's no sooner started to suggest the alternative route again when the hook behind her pitches forward, forced into a bend by the long black limbs of the Entity, and spears her through the shoulder with its tungsten fang.

She screams as it repositions and yanks her back, the claws immediately descending upon her and bypassing the usual state of a first hook. Claudette is barely able to catch the claw that rounds down to impale her before it can succeed.

"CLAUDE!" Meg shouts, sprinting to get her down while Jonah loses his nerve behind her, whirling this way and that as if he might somehow spot a third exit where there is none.

Not yet, anyway, he realizes.

You've lost yourself in full above them, tears streaming down your reddened cheeks as you feverishly ride Zestial's face and he ruts for any semblance of friction against the wall he's pinned you to. He traces near-bruising circles over your clit as he continues to devour you, body and soul, and it's enough to make you unravel.

"Oh, fuck, please, Zestial, I can't—"

"Thou canst. Thou will."

He intends to make you come and a strategic curl of the oral muscle he stuffs back inside you ensures it.

His ministrations pull a genuine scream from you just as another scream echoes from below—this time from Meg, who's suffered the same fate as Claudette after unwittingly wandering too close to another hook. She's shrieking for Jonah to unhook them, but he's already made up his mind. He's waiting for them to die for a chance at the hatch. The second Meg realizes this, she hurls every insult at him she can think of.

Trembling as you try to unclench your thighs from around his head, needlessly fearful yet again of what match you might be to his strength, you raggedly suck in a breath and practically turn to jelly as he removes you from his shoulders and holds you like something cherished.

You think he might be finished with his end of the bargain—and fair enough, you'd half-expected him to take what he wanted from you, to use the loose wording of your deal and move things along as quickly or perhaps even as violently as possible to punish you for the loopholes you've allowed—until he takes you to the edge of the balcony.

You hear the hatch pop open down below as Zestial lays you across the crumbling stone edge of the overlook, your spine bowing back as he lets your limp weight settle in its new spot. He tangles one of his enormous hands in your hair and cranes your head back until you're able to watch, the realm on its inverse, as Jonah betrays the girls and makes a mad dash for the open hatch.

"Feel naught for those thou hast forsaken," the Overlord murmurs into your ear as you witness the remainder of the trial in detached delirium. He bends over you as one hand stays fisted in your hair and the other pushes aside his cloak and frees his hard, leaking cock from his pants. He grasps the base and pumps once, twice, three times, as he murmurs in a voice deeper and more gravelly than before, "These fools art purest folly compared to thee."

The second Jonah is within arm's length of the hatch, it snaps shut, and that's also the instant Zestial pushes into your primed, pliable entrance. He coos praises into your ear and drops a chaste kiss against your temple when you whimper. Still, he continues to stretch you beyond what you've taken before. It hurts, but it feels better than anything you can fathom, and the coil in your lower belly begins to tighten again as he finds a leisurely, thorough pace that agrees with him.

Your eyes roll back in ecstasy and it grants you a look at Jonah as he stumbles back from the slammed-shut hatch. He is immediately snatched by the very hook the hatch spawn was meant to lure him to, his keening screech mingling amongst the screaming crows circling with ever more fervor above. The bell tolls again and the ground around the tower begins to break apart in fiery, shuddering fissures.

There's a hollow sound that echoes through the map as Claudette ceases to struggle and is speared through by the Entity, its gnarled limbs crooking around her like a spider's legs as it lifts her up into the vacant sky. A sky you see stars in for the first time in what feels like an eternity as Zestial cants his hips just right and hits that sensitive, spongey spot inside you.

"Right there, right there, right there," you babble like a prayer, pressing your forehead against Zestial's when he leans in to tighten his hold around you and secure you in the position he wants. That he knows you both need. "Please, Zestial, please, I—"

The Overlord shushes you softly and brushes his lips across your face, his hand relaxing its grip on your hair now that there's nothing else below to witness. Instead, he simply cradles the base of your skull as he thrusts up into you and turns your whines back into wanton screams.

"T'is mine intention to take care of thee, little one, rest assured," he mumbles against your cheek, his pace stuttering as he feels his own release approaching. "Wouldst thou allow me to—" A surprise cant of your hips that lets him fuck even deeper into you takes him by surprise and he groans low into your ear, the sound making you shudder and pushing you closer to euphoria. "—to care for thee?"

You're not completely sure what he means, but you won't be asking that question anymore today.

"Yes," you moan, crying out as he shows his approval for your response with an intentional, deep thrust of his cock.

He seals his lips over yours and you grant him full access to your mouth without his needing to ask, tasting yourself on his tongue as he pounds into you and swallows your screams. You flutter and clench around him, your body desperately milking his until he can no longer hold off his own pleasure.

The hot rush of his seed filling you up nearly makes you come again in your oversensitive state and you whine as he fucks his release deeper into you, tilting your body back just a little more as if to make sure not a drop of the load you both worked so hard to spill escapes you.

Your arms and legs remain entangled around his body as your own body continues to shake with aftershocks. Your shivers stem from pleasure and not from fearing how easily he could send you plummeting from the tower if he chose to let go. You realize with some surprise that you, perhaps foolishly, trust him not to drop you at least.

You can't help another shiver when he finally pulls his softening cock from your heat and you whimper from too much sensation at once. He collects you in his arms again and lets you bury your face against his neck as he adjusts himself back into his pants and fixes his cloak, watching with fascinated satisfaction as your mixed releases drip down your quaking thighs.

He smooths your hair back from your head and kisses your cheek again, surprised at the depth of feeling this venture has unexpectedly brought him.

The final toll of the bell sounds and you tense in a Pavlovian response. You wait to be speared by the Entity and forcibly dragged down to respawn at the fire. You know you need to start conjuring your tale of what happened this endgame if you're ever going to be taken off a hook or healed again.

And yet…nothing happens.

Claudette, Meg, and Jonah have all long been taken. The map settles after the final toll, the ground pulling itself back together with the god of this realm appeased, and then…nothing.

"What's happening?" you whisper warily, as if speaking too loudly will alert the Entity that She missed a morsel on her trial grounds.

Zestial pauses to admire you in the afterglow before glancing skyward and then down toward the mending earth. "It would seem thou hast found your true place within the realm," he murmurs, the whispers of the Entity an undercurrent of song amidst the avian cacophony above you both. "For thy lovely hands, verily, be the lovely hands of a killer."

Your eyes widen. "A killer?" you repeat, your voice shaking.

He hums and begins your joint descent to the ground floor, carrying you along as you slowly recover control of your body and your shaking starts to cease.

"She is pleased with thee," Zestial tells you as he strides toward the edge of the map—an edge of the map you've never been privy to before. One that branches off into a darker, denser part of the woods you know. "Thou hast far more potential than a lamb for slaughter, little one. I didst know it from the first time mine eyes beheld thee. She doth know it now that thou hast proven thyself. Now the sole epiphany we wait f'r is thine own."

Your fingers tighten against his cloak, the fabric soft and cool against your warm skin. A glance down the path he approaches fills you with uncertainty, but something stirs awake as well. Something you've felt within you from the beginning, perhaps the very thing your "comrades" sensed as well.

And as you meet Zestial's eyes and nod for him to take you through, to take you with him, your soul settles as if for the first time—as if this is where it should've been all along.

This time, at least, you know precisely what you've done.

Bonus A/N: In case anyone's interested in the loadout details I wrote for Zestial before starting the story, here ya go. :)

Perk Loadout

Folie à Deux - A panic born in a crowd can mean the end for everyone. After the killer is sighted for the first time by a survivor, all survivors become aimless and scream for 15 seconds if 2+ survivors are within 50 meters of each other. If any survivors are within 10 meters of the killer, they also become exposed for a quick 5-second period.

Overlord's Influence - Strike a deal with a survivor. The survivor gets one more hook state before death but all progressive actions (healing, gens, gates) are at half-speed for the rest of the match. By contract, the survivor's aura and the killer's will be revealed to each other in the endgame collapse.

Flies in a Web - The lure of something tasty can be a tragic downfall. Two chests in the game are covered with a spiderweb that becomes visible after a survivor interacts with the chest. They're held in place for 15 seconds and a notification is given to the killer (additional notifications occur if the survivor struggles, but the effect wears off more quickly if they struggle). The chest can be opened normally after the web is activated.

Addons

(iri) Liminal Teacup - When hooking a survivor, any survivors within a 30-meter radius doing a progressive action (gens, healing) stop what they're doing (are interrupted).

(purple) Sewing Kit (patchwork hat) - Adds an extra 10 seconds to webs. When "Flies in a Web" is equipped, if no chests are disturbed for the entire round, one of the gate switches is webbed instead.

Check out the rest of the crew and their amazing works via the #hookedonhazbin2024 tag!

FrauGwinska's event masterlist!

Hooked on Hazbin 2024 AO3 Collection!

Thanks for reading and happy Halloween! 🎃👻

[tldrthor]

Promises, oceans deep - peter parker x reader

peter parker x f!reader // you said you were gonna grow up, then you were gonna come find me // based on the song 'Peter' by Taylor Swift

Summary: the misfortune of being left behind in the blip, and the consequences of aging without him.

Part two <3

tw: mention of bad eating habits/food disorder; insomnia; angst

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The night was cold, dark. The halls of the compound were as empty as they had been since the blip. That's the thing about this place - in it's hayday, it was a wonderful place to live. Laughter and camaraderie filled every corner, every crevice. There was always music, dancing, movies, games, whatever. That was before. Now, the halls were a stark reminder of everything that is lost. Every step echoed in this hollow home.

Forgive me, Peter My lost fearless leader In closets like cedar, Preserved from when we were just kids. Is it something I did?

The glow of the fridge was the only light in the kitchen as you searched for anything to eat. It hadn't even occurred to you to look earlier, when you could do something about the empty shelves. You sighed, taking the milk and setting it on the counter, prepared for another night of cereal for dinner.

"You need to eat better, (y/n)." You jumped at the voice behind you. How, when your steps were so cacophonous, were his so silent? You turned to face him, turning to pick up the blanket that had slipped off your shoulders as you jumped.

Steve. As he turned the light on, he looked tired. The bags beneath his eyes aging him by at least a couple of years at least. You had always considered him to be almost immortal, un-aging. But these past few years, you saw him looking older, much more tired. You weren't really sure if it was a result of the pain of the times, or if he really was biologically aging. The thought of either was too painful to dwell on.

"Yeah? And you need to sleep better, Cap."

He chuckled and shrugged with a small, sad smile on his face. You both knew the other was right, and also knew that neither of your words would make a difference. After two years of your comrades being missing, dead or blipped, the Avengers had stalled. So, each of you, the remainders that is, seemed to have set about to destroy yourselves in a myriad of different ways.

He walked around the counter, taking the milk out of your hands. He opened the top and gave it a whiff, visibly recoiling. "That's so out of date." He poured it down the sink before bumbling around the kitchen, bringing out a pan, some eggs and various herbs and spices. "Sit down, let me make you something substantial."

You followed his orders, knowing that if you told him that you weren't hungry, felt sick, he wouldn't believe you. You knew he had too much on his plate with all the council meetings you had long gave up on. Just tonight, you would give him the win. God knows he needed it.

There was a comfortable silence between the two of you as he crafted up a meal with anything usable he could find in the kitchen, "God, we have to get better at doing food shops." He muttered, mostly to himself.

He broke the silence as he handed you a plate of food, having made on for himself as well. He sat next to you at the kitchen island as you both ate. "So, how's school?"

You almost laughed at the mundane question. You tried to remember the last time you were asked such a question. You missed this, you supposed. The small talk, back when life was normal. Back before Thanos.

"School is... okay." You didn't want to tell him that actually, school was a constant reminder that your boyfriend and two best friends were missing, presumed dead. "It's boring, pointless."

"You graduate this year, right?" He asked.

The question made your bones go cold. You hadn't even thought about it, but yeah. You would be graduating this year. Without them. You swallowed harshly. "Yeah."

He could see the emotions written all over your face and gave your shoulder a squeeze, reassuringly.

You went back to silence.

The goddess of timing, once found us beguiling. She said she was trying, Peter, was she lying? My ribs get the feeling she did.

The day was a blur. You walked up to the stage to receive your diploma, looking out into the crowd. They were sitting in the guests of honour box, being the avengers and all. Natasha and Steve smiled at you and waved, Bruce and Tony cheered while Thor gave you a hearty thumbs up. Rocket sat on his shoulder, looking bored. You wandered across the stage in a fugue state, accepting the scroll and the valedictorian award. The school hadn't asked you to do the speech, which you were grateful for. They knew you never really talked anymore.

As you returned to your seat, the principal called out "And now, we want to take a moment to remember those that we lost..."

When his photo flashed across the screen, you were sure you were going to be sick.

And I didn't wanna come down I thought it was just goodbye for now.

"Good job, kid." Natasha opened her arms and enveloped you in a hug. You returned it, almost desperately. You didn't feel like it was a good job. It was an empty achievement without them.

You both turned to walk back to the parking lot, with Steve putting his arm around you. "What do you want to do to celebrate, bud? You wanna go out to dinner?"

While your heart screamed absolutely not, your head said that they needed the win. "Sure, yeah."

You said you were gonna grow up, then you were gonna come find me.

When you moved to college, it was almost a breath of fresh air. You felt bad, leaving Steve, Natasha and Bruce since Tony had left to live with Pepper and Morgan, and Thor had gone to settle the Asgardians into New Asgard. But the silence in the halls of the compound was chest-crushing, and only grew worse by the day.

You heaved your things up the stairs into your dorm. A single one, thank god. Being one of the surviving members of the Avengers really did have its perks sometimes. You struggled to carry things that you probably wouldn't have before, and recently you had noticed that you were so tired. You tried to hide your shaky legs and the sweat on your forehead from Steve and Natasha. But they noticed, and exchanged worried glances behind your back.

Steve obviously insisted on helping everyone else in the parking lot, ever the good samaritan. You and Natasha arranged your room together, putting up posters and decorations and trying to make the space feel homely.

You picked up a picture frame and turned it around. Him.

You said you were gonna grow up, then you were gonna come find me. Words from the mouths of babes, promises, oceans deep. But never to keep.

The assignment you were working on was rough, like, really rough. You had been conducting some research and there was just something alluding you. You ended up scrolling through instagram instead, when Steve's contact flashed across the screen. You looked at the time - 2am. Way past Cap's bedtime.

"Hello?"

"(y/n)? Were you asleep?" He asked, worry immediately flooding his voice.

You rolled your eyes. "Yes."

"God, don't... don't lie to me, kid." He sighed. "Either way, you've got to come back to the compound, it's... Scott Lang. You remember the giant guy from Berlin? He's back, we're not really sure how. It might... It might be something."

You breathed out. "What?" You squeezed your eyes closed and breathed for a few seconds. "I'll be there, I've... fuck, I've got an assignment due tomorrow."

You could hear Steve smile at the absurd normalcy of what you had said. "Hey, let's mind our language. I'll get someone to send a letter to your professor to excuse you, I'm sending a quinjet to you now. Be ready."

"Sure thing, old man. See you soon."

"See ya, kid."

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From there, things moved quickly. Too quickly. Your life descended into utter chaos from writing papers in college to time travel, other worlds, alien species and infinity stones. Natasha's death.

And then there was the snap. The second one. Bruce screamed in pains as rainbow colours flashed up his arm, a thousand little lightning strikes. Steve stood in front of you, protectively. If this explodes, we're all dead. You thought, rather pessimistically.

As Bruce finally gathered the strength to snap, you were almost shocked to see he survived. Everyone ran forward to check him, Tony cooling the nasty looking burns on his arm, neck and face.

"Clint, your phone." You spoke, but it was perhaps too quiet. "Clint! Answer your phone!" You shouted, getting everyone's attention. It was the first time you had spoken in a long time, never mind shouted.

It was Laura. Oh my god. It was Laura.

Scott looked out of the windows, admiring the birds. There were so many more birds. He spun around and laughed.

And that's when it hit. You weren't even sure what it was, but then you were falling through the air. Your surroundings were crumbling and it all happened so fast you couldn't even react. Steve grabbed a hold of your arm and drew you to their chest, protecting you as you tumbled.

As you collided, your mind swarmed with so many thoughts. What the hell had happened, and was Peter back?

The battle raged. You didn't even know if everyone was out of the rubble. The battlefield was the now ruins of the only real home you had ever known. You lined up with Cap, and the others. And stared down what you were almost certain would be your death.

As the alien army marched closer, Steve turned to you. "You should run, (y/n). You have your whole life ahead of you."

You smiled, almost sadly, at him. "Cap, I don't think there is a life after this." He sighed, knowing that it was no use. You had been raised better than to abandon your family, and he knew that it was his fault. He couldn't save you.

Suddenly, sorcerer circles opened behind you and the ones you had lost came pouring in. Including him.

Are you still a mind reader? A natural scene stealer. I've heard great things, Peter. But life was always easier on you, than it was on me.

There was little time for rejoice as the army advanced towards you.

"Avengers!" Steve called. "...assemble."

And with that, you were running. You watched as spider-man flitted in and out of the hordes, doing his bit. You ran towards him, and held no mercy for any rogue soldier who dared to come near you and him. The others protected him too, and you were glad of it.

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The battle was won but Tony was lost. You stared as Pepper cried by Tony's body, his eyes open, his body and face badly burned from the impact of the stones. There was a circle of Avengers around him. Just staring. No one knowing what to do, or say.

Peter. Your Peter. Collapsed into a heap near him, his emotions taking over. It was instinctual, the way you ran to him.

"Hey," You whispered, gathering him up into your arms. "I've got you. He's resting now. He saved us." You tried throwing every phrase people had ever thrown at you, at Peter. You knew it all meant nothing to him.

You looked down at his face, and horror crossed your face as you realised how much older than him you were now.

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Steve watched his youngest team members in the puddle on the ground, the kid who had given him a run for his money in Germany, and the girl he had raised these past few years. He watched as your heart broke, and Peter couldn't even see it. He knew exactly what was going though, watching the now 21-year-old you holding a still 16-year-old Peter.

As emergency services and the military started to pull into what used to be the Avengers Compound, he knew there had to be a co-ordinated effort to resolve the tragedies they had just witnessed.

He walked over to you both and whispered softly, "Come on, kids, there's work to be done."

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And sometimes it gets me, when crossing your jetstream, We both did the best we could do underneath the same moon but in different galaxies.

"(y/n)." You didn't hear him say your name until that night. Well, the next morning, you suppose. You didn't even know what time it was.

Your face softened as you saw him. After the compound was destroyed, Clint was kind enough to bring you all to his house with Laura and the children, just until something more permanent was sorted out. It had been a couple of weeks now, and you had barely exchanged a word with anyone.

"Hi, Pete." You breathed out. He looked at your face, intently. Like he was searching for something he recognised, and couldn't find it. "How... how are you?"

"I'm alright. Um... yeah. Doing okay."

"Good, good." You hummed, sipping your cup of tea.

There was a moment of silence as the two of you looked out over the farm.

He cleared his throat. "(y/n), can we talk? I..." He faltered. "I miss you."

You looked at him, a little panicked, you'll admit. You didn't even know where to begin thinking about how to go about moving on with your relationship with Peter. You had been together for a year... but that was five years ago. That's not even considering that fact that he was still in high school and you were now of drinking age, at college. Shit, you still hadn't done that assignment.

"Peter, I..." His puppy eyes made your heart break. "I'm an adult now... it's been five years for me, and I... I changed a lot, in that time."

"Right, yeah." Tears swelled to his eyes. "You're right, yeah." You knew he was putting on a brave face.

"I'm sorry, Peter. For now, we have to go our separate ways, I think." Tears crashed down his cheeks, but he never broke eye contact with you. "I... I have to go back to college, and I won't see you for a while."

And I didn't want to hang around... We said it was just goodbye, for now

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Thank you for reading! I'm really new to posting on this blog, so any likes and reblogs are so appreciated! <3

[a-simple-imagine]

That Warm Christmas Feeling

Synopsis: Your spending the holidays with Jordan but you wake up feeling hot…

Pairing: Jordan Li x fem!reader

Words: 1k+

A/N - Happy holidays my lovelies. I woke up feeling absolutely awful which sucks but here’s a little gift. It's short and messy but enjoy.

WARNINGS - swearing

a blanket of white snow paved the way for joyful celebration and family festivities. the festive season had been deep in your bones since late November. the cheesy Christmas movies. the bright flashing lights. and jolly old men in beards. you never cared much for the festive season by any means, it almost seemed like too much but you were making a conscious effort to try and enjoy it. you want the first holiday season together to feel even just a little special. you had been dragging them along to all kinds of festive events. you had been ice skating and drank hot chocolate. Christmas shopping around the markets. it was all just fun and games. the main event was to take place at their home. your first time meeting their parents. it seemed like such a big step for a rather new relationship but you weren’t against the idea. it would be fun.

a loud groan forces its way past your lips as you roll onto your back. a dull ache settles deep in your bones. a thick fog invades your head as your brain throbs. a blocked, tickly nose. great. you’re sick. on Christmas day of all days. you pull the covers up over your head to escape the sun peaking through the windows. couldn’t have picked a worse day. “good morning,” whispered in your ear. there’s an edge of excitement to their voice. their hand comes up to remove the duvet and reveal your less-than-pleased expression. You move away from them, burying your fave deeper into the pillow. “You good? I thought you'd be more excited. My parents have a full day planned, you're gonna love it.”

A pit of guilt or nausea grows in your stomach. You really wanna get up and enjoy the day but you also just wanna go back to sleep. “Please don't be mad,” you mumble against the fabric of the pillow.

“Why would I be mad?”

“I feel like shit,” you admit. “I think I'm sick.”

“Oh,” there's a pause that almost allows you to drift off again. “That's shit.”

“I’m sorry,”

“no no don’t be,” they reassure you. “You should stay in bed if you're not feeling up to it.”

“is that okay?” you ask quietly.

“Sure, they’ll understand. go back to sleep and I’ll check on you in a little bit, okay?” your only answer is a slow nod that pushes the fabric of the pillow roughly across your cheek. The door clicks shut and you drift off into sweet, sweet unconsciousness.

The time is a mystery when your eyes flicker open next. The world doesn't feel real as your head hammers with an uncertain pain. You sniffle as you fall onto your back. That's when you spot Jordan approaching with a steaming hot beverage in their hand. “How you feeling?” you just groan extra loudly emphasising just how awful you felt about the entire situation. “so good then yeah,” the bed dips beside you and he reaches over with a free hand to check your head. you don’t feel particularly hot so it probably wasn’t a fever. “Mom made you some tea, said it’d fix you right up but don’t feel like you have to.”

pushing up into a seated position, Jordan hands over a mug decorated with little Christmas trees and snowflakes. a heavy sigh leaves your lips. it really did feel like more effort than it was worth just sitting up straight. you take a cautious sip and warmth spills through your veins. “I feel like I ruined today,” you mumble into your cup. staring down at the swirling liquid. “I should have mentioned earlier.”

“you didn’t ruin anything,” Jordan expresses, a calming hand placed on your leg over the covers. “it’s not your fault you got sick.”

“I haven’t really felt great the last couple days but I thought it’d just go away.” you shrug, taking a much larger sip. “I really wanted to do Christmasy things with you. your parents probably think I’m awful.”

“They don’t think that,” they chuckle softly. “just focus on getting better and we can do Christmasy things tomorrow. they won’t mind.”

“thank you for the tea,” you reply handing back the drink.

“and besides,” he takes the drink back. “you’re giving me an excuse to get away from them. I need a break every now and then.“are you hungry?” you shake your head slowly. falling back down against the bed.

“tired.”

they just chuckle. “I’m gonna sit here a moment longer before I brace my parents again. just ignore me.”

the room is shrouded in darkness when Jordan enters once more. a crack of light filtering through the door. you don’t bother acknowledging them; just pull the thick duvet closer to your chest. a heavy sigh fills the air but it doesn’t come from you. the bed dips beside you. “are you awake?” they ask but you don’t bother answering. a silence a silence falls over the room as they shuffle about doing god only knows what. “I’m sorry you got sick,” Jordan speaks aloud. “I wish you could have spent the day with us. my parents can be a lot but they do go all out for Christmas… and I was looking forward to giving you your present,” their voice is quiet and you’re not sure if you should admit to being awake now. “my parents would have loved it. they’re already obsessed with you and they’re so happy I finally brought someone home. and I was gonna tell you I love you” After a moment you know they’re climbing into bed with you. an arm around your waist. you roll over to face them. “maybe tomorrow.”

“you’re gonna get sick,” mumbled out.

“I don’t mind,”

“Are you sure?”

“mhmm,” hummed softly and you don’t bother arguing. you just snuggle closer to his chest. they feel safe and comforting. a welcomed addition to your cosy domain. “I’m glad you’re here,”

“I’m glad you’re here,” you repeat against their chest. “and for what it’s worth. I… love you too.”

“you heard all that,” you don’t respond just shuffle further into his embrace. falling asleep to the sound of their heartbeat as a gentle kiss is pressed against your head.

[salty-lemon-shark-from-the-sea]

Maya and the Three + (Reader) Incorrect quotes (Part 2)

Chimi: Ugh, crushes are so dumb.

Rico: I know. Whenever I’m near the person I like I just start acting stupid.

Chimi: But you’re always acting stupid?

Rico: …

Rico: Yeah, don’t think about that too hard.

●◦●◦●◦●◦●◦●◦●◦●◦●

Chivo: Pick a card, any card.

Bone: Fine.

Chivo: Wait, that’s my credit card!

Skull: You said any card.

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Xtabay: I scare people a lot because I walk very softly and they don’t hear me enter rooms. So when they turn around, I’m just kind of there and their fear fuels me.

●◦●◦●◦●◦●◦●◦●◦●◦●

Chimi: Everyone knows that Santa is an international designed by the big five corporations to sell tinsel and video games to an unsuspecting public.

(Reader): The whole “childhood wonder” stage just blew right past you, didn’t it?

●◦●◦●◦●◦●◦●◦●◦●◦●

Rico: Why is Picchu crying?

Chimi: They saw a leaf on the sidewalk and-

Picchu: IT LOOKED SO CRUNCHY!

Rico: Please don’t say what I think you’re gonna say-

Picchu: AND WHEN I STEPPED ON IT THERE WAS NO CRUNCH!

Rico: NO, NOT THAT!

●◦●◦●◦●◦●◦●◦●◦●◦●

Camazotz: Wow you and Cabrakan are home early from the movies. What happened?

Cipactli: We got kicked out because Cabrakan wouldn’t stop yelling diving scores as people jumped off the titanic.

Cabrakan: That last guy had a solid 8, I’m telling you!

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Maya: I regret nothing!!!

Zatz: I regret everything!!!

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Zatz: Name a more iconic duo than my crippling fear of abandonment and my anxiety. I’ll wait.

(Reader): You and me!

Zatz: *tearing up* Ok.

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Queen Teca: So, what’s for dinner?

King Teca, staring at the food they burnt: Regret.

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Vucub: Being half asleep and feeling someone gently plant a kiss on your forehead is one of the purest kinds of love in the world.

Chivo: Unless you’re home alone.

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Chimi: This date is boring!

(Reader) This isn’t a date. I said I was going to the store.

Chimi: Then why did you invite me?

(Reader): I didn’t, I specifically said “don’t come with me,” then you said, “fuck you (Reader) I’ll do whatever I want!”

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Rico: *very seriously* You need to stop doing weird things to cope with the stress. Going outside might help.

Chimi: I went to the park today.

Rico: There you go! I hope you got something from that.

Chimi: *opening their coat* This duck.

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Acat: Zatz is playing hard to get.

Acat: Little do they know, I’m a master at playing hard to get rid of.

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Lord Mictlan: What are you doing tomorrow?

Any god/goddess: Having my day ruined by whatever you’re about to ask me to do.

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Lady Micte: If I ever had a child, I image they would be a lot like you.

Lord Mictlan: Aww, thanks—

Lady Micte: Which is probably why I’ve never reproduced.

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(Reader): Did you get the eggs like I asked?

Maya: Even better!

(Reader): What the fuck did you—

Maya: *holding up a chicken* Her name is Fluffy.

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Lord Mictlan: What have I done wrong?!

(Reader): Everything. For your entire life.

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(Reader): Chivo… Why did you draw a pentagram on the floor?

Chivo: Your text told me to satanize the house before you returned.

(Reader):

(Reader): I wrote sanitize Chivo.

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Rico: (Reader) that's disgusting. You’re only giving free stuff to beautiful people.

Chimi: Yeah, you should be ashamed of yourself.

(Reader): Oh yeah? *gets really close to Chimi* How about a muffin on the house baby?

Chimi, giggling: I’m pretty.

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Acat: Please! Pretend I’m useful!

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Camazotz: Oh Zatz, we have a visitor!

Zatz: Don’t tell me it’s (Reader).

Camazotz: It’s (Reader).

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Zatz: There’s no way they like me back.

(Reader): Maya would throw herself in front of a moving car for you.

Zatz: Maya would throw herself in front of a moving car for fun.

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(Reader): I have so much energy, I want to run a marathon or commit a crime… which should I do?

Barbarian Princess: Please don’t get arrested.

(Reader): No promises! <3

Barbarian King: Why not both? Get creative!

(Reader): Wonderful suggestion, thank you.

Barbarian Princess: Please don’t encourage them, Papa.

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Lord Mictlan: Love is weakness and an evolutionary mistake.

Camazotz: You are literally making a Valentine’s Day card for Lady Micte.

Lord Mictlan, pointing their hot glue gun towards Camazotz: You’re on thin fucking ice.

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King Teca: Don’t mansplain this to me!

Queen Teca: Wh- I’m a woman! I can’t mansplain anything to you!

King Teca: … Well, I’m a feminist, and I believe a woman can do anything a man does!

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Skull, at (Reader): Would you like to stay for dinner?

Bone, from the kitchen: Would you like to stay forever!?!

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*Acat is telling a story*

Hura: Wow, Acat, this story has everything! Action! Adventure! Romance!

Can: *grunting* Romance?

Hura: I have a crush on them.

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Xtabay: How do I make a date really romantic?

Vucub: Be mysterious.

Xtabay: Okay.

*Later, while on a date with (Reader)

(Reader): So where are we going?

Xtabay: None of your fucking business.

[winchester-girl67]

Love Deliciously

Summary: After an incident on a hunt, the reader tries to boost the boys' morale with a homemade feast and a little Christmas decorating. But Sam leaves for his own romantic endeavours and she catches Dean with himself after months of feeling touch starved for his affection. Something he hasn't given freely lately as his own guilt weighs on him. Nothing a little mistletoe can't fix though.

Requested by Anonymous: "hey love! if your still taking requests, i’d love if you could write a oneshot with gf!reader who is basically horny 24/7 and just wants to make out with dean all the time. like he comes back from a hunt and reader finds him and just wants to be on top of him on the table at the bunker"

Pairing: Dean x reader (established relationship)

Square: Hanging Mistletoe @spnchristmasbingo​ Touch starvation @spnfluffbingo​  

Word Count: 3,546

Rating: mature 18+ MDNI

Warnings: language, smut, p in v, unprotected sex (be smarter than them), male masturbation, sexual frustration, touch starvation, mentions of past temporary death of reader, implied excessive drinking, kissing/cuddling, biting, teasing, a little pining, a little angst, fluff

A/N: Also written for @spnchristmasbingo​ and @spnfluffbingo​. Smut is below *** (minors dni). Enjoy!

_____

Dean hadn't touched you in three months. Your relationship had been in a rut ever since that ghost hunt that left you near dead and Sam in a cast. You tried everything from jumping his bones, to wearing practically non-existent lingerie, to even a can of whip cream and a couple cherries you'd rather not talk about.

Nothing worked. He blamed himself too heavily on this one and you couldn't convince him otherwise. Fortunately, he hadn't tried to break up with you but if your past was any indicator, that was just yet to happen.

So you decided to take a different approach and sat the latest hunt out to decorate the crap out of the bunker. You had coloured lights and garland wrapped around the staircase and a beautiful tree you found in storage set up on top of the war table.

You had a fully decked out turkey dinner prepared with all the fixings and for dessert there were zucchini oatmeal muffins for Sam and pumpkin pie for Dean. Everything still in the oven to keep warm since they would be walking in the door any minute now.

Christmas was always Dean's favourite time of year and last year with the apocalypse looming over your heads, you didn't get to celebrate the way you would've liked. With loads of homemade food and family and board games and hallmark movies and cheap gifts from the gas station down the street.

It wasn't about what you got, it was about the time you spent together. Times were tough lately, for longer than you cared to remember; this was your way of bringing joy back into Sam and Dean's lives if only for one night.

You all needed a break from your worries.

You took a step back and examined your handiwork. The library was almost unrecognizable, hidden in evergreen garlands and lights and patches of holly, glass ornaments and fake candles. All that was missing now was the final touch.

Mistletoe!

You set up the step-stool in the entrance of the library. You had Dean install a hook for the ball of mistletoe a couple years ago, which was still there, but the stool wasn't quite tall enough and you had to really stretch and hold your breath to be able to reach it. It was more than a little troublesome and you let out a long breath once you hooked the ribbon on. You smiled up at the ball of white and green and sunk back down to your heels from your tip-toes.

"Did elves throw up in here or something, Y/N? What is all of this?" You jumped and stumbled off the stool at the sound of Dean's voice.

You hadn't heard him come in. That child-like sense of wonder his eyes usually wore at the sight of Christmas decorations wasn't there.

"How'd the hunt go? Where's Sam?" You asked and shoved the stool under the table in the library.

"Same old shit, different day." Dean huffed and walked into the library.

He dropped his duffle-bag of weapons onto the floor with a loud clunk sound and Sam appeared from the hallway wearing a scowl.

"Really, Y/N?" Sam frowned as his eyes darted from garlands to candles to the ball of mistletoe.

He always was a bit of a grinch. It was the most colourful and bright the bunker had ever been. You went a tad overboard but in a good way. At least you thought so.

"Seriously, Sam? It’s Christmas Eve!”

"Yeah, well... Enjoy 'cuz I'm outta here." Sam said, giving Dean the stink eye.

Great, they were fighting. Again.

"Dido," Dean said, mirroring his little brother's bitch face.

Then both boys practically growled at each other and stormed back down the hallway towards their separate rooms. You hung back in the library to admire your handiwork regrettably, this hadn't gone the way you'd expected. And you couldn't chase after them either, you had to check on the food.

You grudgingly padded down the hall towards the kitchen, starting again when you turned the corner to see Sam was already investigating the smouldering oven.

He glanced back at you when you asked, "Is it burnt?"

"Uh," he gave you a sympathetic look like he finally caught onto what you were trying to do for them. Then your bottom lip quivered and he was quick to add, "No, no. It's not that bad, we -uh, we can salvage it."

Sam shoved his large hands into the oven mitts and pulled out the turkey first. The whole top of it was burnt, but the pie and muffins suspiciously seemed to be okay since they were on the bottom rack.

"I just wanted things to be like before," you said, popping a muffin from the tray to check the bottom of it. Burnt, just like you thought. No doubt the pie would be too. You popped the top of the muffin off and tasted a piece of the edge. "Why are you guys fighting this time?"

"Honestly, Y/N, I don't know." Sam sighed and you offered him a piece of the muffin top, "Did you put zucchini in these?" He asked around the bite he took.

"I knew you probably wouldn't eat the pie, health freak." You quipped and Sam chuckled. "Sorry it's burnt."

"Nah, the top's the best part anyways." He gave you a quick side hug which you returned.

"Sammy, you know I don't really believe you, right?" You knew he knew very well why they were arguing, he just didn't want to tell you.

He pursed his lips, "What gave me away?"

"You never say honestly unless you're lying." You squinted up at him and smirked when his stoic face broke. You knew him too well. "Was it about me?"

"Dean's just protective, Y/N."

"OVER-protective, you mean." You rolled your eyes and set the rest of the muffin top on the counter, "I hope you took my side, I always take yours." Sam didn't answer and instantly you knew he didn't. Your mouth dropped open at the obvious betrayal. It was an unspoken rule that you and Sam always had each other's backs.  "Samuel William Winchester!"

He pointed at you, "Y/N, you were dead-"

He was talking about that hunt. The hunt that put your relationship with his brother in a rut and him in a cast for two months. The ghost hunt.

You threw up your arms in protest, "Only for two whole minutes! That barely counts!"

"You didn't see him," Sam shook his head and avoided your eyes, "If you didn't come back... He's never been in love before-"

"In what?"

Four years of dating Dean and he never once said it... 'I love you'. How hard was that?!

Sam rubbed the back of his head, "Uh-"

"Wait, then why were you guys fighting if you took his side? Traitor," you muttered the last part under your breath.

"Because he's acting like he's gotta death wish," Sam explained.

"So, classic pissed-off-Dean then."

"Exactly! But he's not the only one that hated that day. You scared me, Y/N, you're my best-friend, you're family and it wouldn't be the same around here without you." Sam argued, but you understood where he was coming from.

You felt the same thing every time they did something stupid and almost got themselves killed. 

"It hasn't been the same with me lately." You sighed and hopped up to sit on the metal island.

"Look, I appreciate what you are trying to do here with the food and the decorations-"

"But?" You tilted your head and he gave you his best puppy dog face.

"But, I think you'll have a better chance at getting through to him if I take off for a bit."

"Sam, you don't have to do that. This is your home too and it's plenty big enough for us all." You frowned and furrowed your brow.

"Uh, yeah, but I was gonna go see a friend anyways." He rubbed the back of his head nervously.

"Friend?" You thought for a moment, "Eileen?! Finally! You know she asks me about you all the time."

"Yeah," Sam blushed and cleared his throat, "Good luck, Y/N."

"You too, Sammy." You gave him a wink and he headed for the door, "Remember to be safe. No glove, no love!"

Your incessant teasing only made Sam high-tail it out of there faster than you thought a moose was able to move. You were still giggling at just how red you were able to make him turn when you passed by Dean's bedroom. The room you'd been sharing with him for the past three and a half years now. Number eleven.

When you heard something, a whimpering... -Or a moan?

You rested your ear against the wooden door. Definitely moaning! That was not the type of sound he made when he was having a nightmare either, you should know!

You threw open the door, letting it hit the wall with a bang and Dean jolted up in bed. His brow was sweaty and he was panting when you noticed the tent and his right hand in his sweatpants.

"Y/N! It-it's not what it looks like." He pulled his hand from his pants and you scrunched up your face.

Normally, you wouldn't give a shit if Dean wanted to have a little self-love, but you couldn't get him to kiss you lately. Hell, he didn't even cuddle you unless he was already out cold and rolling over in his sleep. And that's on the nights he even cared to come to bed at all! He spent most of his time passed-out in the Dean cave in front of the TV, surrounded by too many empty beer bottles.

You couldn't believe it, you were jealous of his right hand; that's how fucking pent up and frustrated you were.

"Why won't you touch me anymore, huh?" You asked a stunned Dean who didn't bother to get out of the bed. "Are you trying to push me away? Is that what this is?... You're not even gonna try to deny it?!"

You growled inwardly to yourself and walked away before he had a chance to speak. You didn't even bother to shut the door, you just picked up the pace and sprinted to the library. Then started ripping the garlands down until you spotted the mistletoe. That fucking traditional ball of forced Christmas kissing and cheer was taunting you like a clown with it's thumbs in it's ears.

Admittedly, you were at the end of your rope. The mistletoe looked nothing like a clown nor did it have hands let alone thumbs or ears.

You dragged the step stool out from under the table and in a second, ripped the ball of mistletoe from its perch on the hook and tore the ribbon.

"Y/N, we need to talk."

You turned to find Dean standing in the doorway, slightly hunched over to hide the state he was in. Like it wasn't fucking obvious that he didn't finish. And 'we need to talk'? Was he fucking kidding? He was finally gonna break up with you, like this?! You almost hoped so, so then you could stop driving yourself crazy about him.

"Why don't you just go back to your cartoon porn!" You chucked the ball of mistletoe at him and hit him exactly where you intended to.

"...It's anime-"

"Oh, I'm sorry, anime." You snapped dryly and rolled your eyes.

You hopped off the stool and continued destroying your hours of work decorating. Muttering curses under your breath at how stupid your idea was. You burnt dinner and the fucking decorations did nothing to improve anyones mood.

"Y/N, stop." Dean said, when you stepped on a bulb and felt a little pinch but you ignored it and him. "Stop!" He grabbed you from behind and held on tight as you thrashed against his hold. "Stop, sweetheart."

His hold tightened and he buried his face in your neck when you sobbed. You stopped fighting and sucked in a shaky breath and a hiccup. It took a long minute until you were able to relax slightly and he pressed a kiss to your cheek when you did.

"Here, look." Dean said, pulling his phone from his pocket.

He showed you the video he'd been watching while he was alone in the room with himself. It was of you, two summers ago, at the beach. You were holding his hand and tugging him towards the ocean, turning and laughing at him when he said the water was too cold. He was really just afraid of sharks. Eventually he let go of your hand and stayed on shore while you waded in, up to your knees and splashed him with the salty brine. It was a great weekend.

"I'm sorry," he whispered in your ear and locked his phone as he tossed it on top of the bookcase. "I've been such an idiot. I thought I could do this but I can't. I just- I just love you. Too. Damn. Much."

You turned in his hold, feeling all of him against your backside as you did. "What did you just say?"

You couldn't believe your ears. He never said that, not because he didn't feel it, you saw it in his eyes every time you were alone together, every time things got heated or whenever you brought home pie... but, for him to actually say it was a big deal!

"I love you," he rested his forehead on yours and stared into your eyes.

"So," you squinted and teased your lips against his, "I guess this means you're not gonna break up with me?"

"You'll have to kill me first." He said and kissed your breath away.

His hand cradling the back of your head and tilting your mouth to accept him better. Then his tongue swiped across your lip and you parted your lips to let him in. Savouring the way his muscle slid against yours before you broke the kiss.

"You know you're always the one saying that a hunter's life is short-"

Dean's lips locked with yours again and you felt every inch of your skin burst into flames, "And your point is?"

"We shouldn't be wasting any of the time we do have together," you nuzzled his cheek with your nose and felt him sigh, "Are you done pushing me away?"

"Mhm," he nodded, his face against yours.

His skin was dewey with sweat and you could smell the musk he'd worked up by himself. It made you weak in the knees and if it weren't for his hands on your lower back you'd be a puddle on the floor by now.

You pulled away when he tried to kiss you again, "Promise?"

"I promise," he said and chased your lips.

You let him capture your lips with his and tangled your fingers in his short hair. His big hands slipped lower and cradled your butt in his palms. You squeaked when he squeezed, leaving indents of his fingers no doubt and you pulled his hair until he groaned into your mouth.

"I'm sorry I threw the mistletoe at your balls."

Dean laughed and hummed, "Maybe you can kiss them better."

**************************************

He backed you up against the table, pressing moist heavy kisses all over your neck. It sent tingles through your veins and down to your toes before you felt it settle in your stomach.

All thought was lost.

You laid back on the table, allowing Dean more access to your neck as he placed kisses trailing along your flushed skin and past your collarbone. He pulled the collar of your shirt down and continued kissing between your breasts. His hand pawing at one of your peaks as the other laced together with your hand and held it down against the hardwood of the tabletop. His hardwood pressing against your inner thigh as he slotted himself between your legs.

You turned your head to the side as Dean nibbled at your jaw and pushed up your shirt. You laid next to the initials you all carved into the wood; yours and Dean's forever etched together and encased in a heart. He was romantic in his own way sometimes.

You pushed on Dean's chest until he backed up and allowed you the space to sit up. You tugged off your shirt and jumped off the table to rid Dean of his too. Then you grabbed his waist and turned him around just to shove him back against the table. He fell onto it with a grunt and watched as you pushed your leggings down your legs along with your panties.

"You are so damn perfect," he groaned as you rid yourself of your bra, but he was looking into your big Y/E/C eyes when you met his gaze.

You thought that must've taken quite a bit of will power and chewed on your bottom lip as your own eyes drank in his vulnerable form. He was propped up on muscular arms and his tummy tensed as you dragged your fingertips from his navel to his waist band.

"Fuck, Y/N," Dean groaned though you had barely touched him and he tried to sit up but you pushed him back down. You giggled and slowly pulled his sweatpants down his bowed legs, leaving him as bare as you were. "Get that cute ass of yours up here now."

You weren't particularly fond of his command, especially after three months of lost touches and mixed feelings. So instead, you decided to tease him by kissing the inside of his knee. Then you kissed a little higher, and sunk your teeth in the fleshy part of his thigh. A little love bite that had him growling in an octave lower than natural and he fell back against the tabletop. His head hit with a loud thunk sound and you popped up from between his thighs to see him desperately trying to catch his breath.

"Oh my gosh, Dean! Are you okay?!" You rushed out and climbed on top of him to feel the back of his head.

Dean grabbed your neck and pulled you in for a heated kiss. It was months of pent up carnal desire and he had to break the kiss to pant into your mouth; fitting his lips to yours whenever he felt he had enough breath. It was like he'd just run a marathon and you felt his heart beating through his chest under your palm.

"I swear you're gonna be the death of me, sweetheart." He said and let his head thunk down on the table again, "Y/N, I just want you so bad."

"I want you, too, Dean. So. Bad." You breathed, "It's been way too fucking long."

"I'm sorry, baby. Never again."

You kissed his jaw and kitten licked down his neck as you reached between your misted bodies to line him up with your core. Dean grunted and held his breath as you sunk down slowly, determined to take him all at once. It had been a while and it stung a little with the stretch but soon enough all you felt was pleasure.

You started slowly, grinding into him and teasing him tirelessly and without remorse. It was gratifying to watch him writhe with lust for you as you gave him just enough to keep him on the edge. You thought he never looked like he wanted you more, not just anyone... you. But soon enough you needed more too and you rolled your hips and bounced on him until you were just as out of breath. Dean's hands found your breasts and he pawed at them, his fingers buried into the flesh as he held onto you and you felt him begin to twitch inside you. You wanted to keep up with him and slipped your fingers down to your centre; the touch inspiring a pulse in your nerves.

Dean felt it too and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling your chest flush to his as he took over. He braced his feet on the edge of the table and thrust up into you hard. You whimpered and tried to meet his thrusts, nibbling on his earlobe until he groaned loud and long and the sound sent you over the edge. Your orgasm stretching into his as he thrust a few more times, losing his rhythm and shuddering beneath you. His hands finding your ass and his fingernails imprinting on your cheeks as he held you to him.

Dean groaned again, "Fuck, Y/N, you're amazing."

He kissed your shoulder as he rode out his high and you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck. You kissed his pulse point, feeling the strong thump in his chest beat against yours like you were at a concert standing next to a bass speaker.

He sighed as he came down, "My beautiful girl."

You wanted to stay with him, on top of him, just like this and you weren't exactly crushing him so you did and you mumbled against his skin, "I love you. Merry Christmas, Dean."

"Merry Christmas, Y/N." He chuckled and panted as he rubbed his hands up and down your back. "I love you, too. Always."

_________________________ Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33  @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891 @leigh70 @globetrotter28

Forever SPN: @hobby27

[haechwrites]

two winners - L.DH

idol!lee donghyuck x gn!reader (first person)

synopsis: haechan has ideas when the boys are gone

wc: ~1.1k

warnings: suggestive ish, not really. idk how to write smut

A/N: this is just a blurb tbh but i wanted to thank you guys for the attention on my first work hehe <3 also this is written in first person!! as most of my works will be in the future, so i hope that's okayyy

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

“okay, we’ll see you guys in a few hours. you sure you don’t want us to bring any food back?”

fully engrossed in the ending of the movie, i let haechan reply and he tells mark that we’re okay. while i was trying to piece together the last few clues before the movie reveals who the killer is, haechan is anxiously bouncing his leg as the rest of the boys leave. i put my hand on his knee and rub soothingly, thinking the movie is just exciting him. after he hears the sound of the lock, he launches himself off the couch and my hand is long forgotten.

“jesus christ, you scared me! sit back down, we’re about to find out who the killer is,” i groaned, tugging at his wrist and trying to look past his body at the screen.

“no time!” he announces. “come with me to my room.”

tearing my eyes away from the TV, i stare at him in shock as he races to his door, not bothering to check if i were following. part of me wanted to whine again until i put the pieces together myself. the boys are out? he wants me to come to his room? my heart started to race at the thought of what we were going to do, and i giggled to myself. quickly wiping the popcorn salt off my hands, i scrambled to grab the remote to turn off the TV. with a hop in my step, i scurried to his room.

and there he was standing… with a board game in his hands. he’s grinning from ear to ear and shaking the newly sealed box in my face. i look at him dumbfounded, about to protest and trudge back to the living room.

“i found a new game at the store the other day and i’ve been waiting to play it with you.” he plopped down on his rug and savagely tore open the packaging. standing there with a pout, i watched the excitement pour out of him as he sets up the game next to my socked feet. haechan whacks my calf to get me to sit down and i oblige with a huff. so this is what he wanted to do.

“and you wanted to play this while the boys were gone?”

he looked up and i gave him my best half smile, trying not to ruin his fun, even though i was hoping to have some fun myself tonight…

he sneered as he set up the board, “the hyungs like to steal my game pieces so that they don’t have to play with me.”

i couldn’t help the chuckle that left my lips and i gave in, picking up the instruction manual.

“oh my poor hyuck,” i coo, cupping his cheek.

he quickly pecked my palm and shrugged it away, “okay, game time.”

i roll my eyes and prepare myself for the natural competitiveness i was about to witness. he animatedly rubbed his hands together and briefly explained the game. without any time to waste, we started the first round.

i tried to be as invested as possible for his sake, even though the pit of my stomach had been dying for something more… exciting. and a little more active. i glanced at his lips as his tongue peeked out to wet them while he focused intensely on his next move. fumbling with my game piece, i cleared my throat and tried to snap myself out of it.

haechan looked up at me to check if i was alright, or to see if i was having as much fun as him, and i gave him my best smile. he saw right through it but he shook it off. i watched his hair bounce and noticed that one side was flat from laying on the couch earlier. i held myself back from wanting to run my hands through it. can i not play a game with my boyfriend without wanting to jump his bones?

after about half an hour, all hopes of doing something more had left my brain and i was as fully engrossed in the game as he was. i took off my sweater since it got warm in his room with my matched game spirit and tossed it on his bed. it was his anyways. doing a quick arm stretch above my head, haechan looked up from the board to see the bottom of my tank top lift.

“uh your move,” he blurted, suddenly completely flustered and fully aware of how good his significant other looked sitting in front of him.

“oh shoot, my bad,” i chewed on my lip as i thought about my next move, twiddling the piece between my fingers.

haechan shifted in his spot, watching my mouth a little too closely, but i was too focused on my game strategy to notice.

my eyes lit up when i figured out my next move, and i leaned over the board to place my next piece. my hand fell in front of his crotch to place it down and i smiled at what i thought was a really smart decision on my part. i looked up at his face, hoping to see haechan defeatedly staring at the board but he was already looking at me, only an inch away. the usual warm, honey brown in his eyes was a deep, darker shade. i almost flinched.

the look etched on his face was completely different than earlier too. there was no way his mind was on the game anymore. at this point, i realized how close i was to his face and how my body was hovering the board.

“haechan?” i whispered, trying to break his trance.

“mm?” he responded, only breaking eye contact to quickly glance down at my mouth.

“do you still wanna play?” i hold back a laugh, already knowing his answer.

he shook his head slowly but in an assured away. i smiled wide at his response and flicked the game pieces off the board before crossing to straddle his lap. i wasted no time in hooking my arms around his neck and he instinctively wrapped his around my waist. i hummed in satisfaction, finally getting my hands in his hair. the familiar buzz in my body returned.

“you know, when you asked me to come to your room when the guys left, this is what i thought we were gonna do,” i teased.

he tossed his head back and laughed, “this was probably a better idea.” he pulled me closer and swiftly pushed the board game to the side.

i lean in and ghost my lips over his. “i think so too,” i whisper before giving him a long awaited kiss.

“i was gonna win anyways," we both say at the same time.

[tumblhurgoyf]

the problems with magic story

I really do think the current format doesn’t really work for the sort of stories WotC is trying to tell in Magic

like they’ve hired competent writers and there’s definitely stuff in their story that could be explored and developed, but there’s just flat out not enough room to do that. and this isn’t exactly an accidental problem, it’s built off of two facts:

1. they want a large cast of planeswalkers so more people can have a favorite and become more invested in the game through that

2. the amount of writing, number of stories, all that, is a finite resource and they’ve got a lot of data to show that the short fiction on the mothership was the most engaging and successful

but especially when a dozen of those characters are involved in one story it’s almost impossible to make it satisfying in all or even most respects. they can’t just cut characters because that’s a point of engagement and motivating people to buy more stuff

most of my favorite Magic fiction from the site is when you’ve got one POV character who is interacting mostly with just one other character, with a few other even more minor characters (Sacrifice remaining my all time favorite, but also the sort of epilogue of Battle for Zendikar story where Chandra is assessing the aftermath and summing up her friends (at least I remember it being Chandra, maybe it was another Gatewatch member) or most recently the story where Lukka gets compleated)

If you want a dozen characters involved then you need about six stories just to focus on two of them at a time (and then you’re deciding that half of them aren’t POV characters and exist mostly to serve the story of the one they get paired with essentially) plus perhaps another story to do the big final plot piece and showdown where they’re all present. like ideally I think you’d even have the space to luxuriate and develop the same events from two different POVs. like do the Vraska betrayal from her POV and then totally “new” story but now from Jace’s POV covering more or less the same time frame. you can do cool stuff with that

one of the two things from above has gotta budge. I think my ideal typical set would be one overarching POV character, the protagonist of that story. they’d get four or five of the main story articles. the other five would go to different characters and mostly at least tangentially link back to the main story

but then for big event sets with a larger cast you’ve gotta budget story accordingly. default for me would ideally be that any present planeswalker gets at least one POV story, and if they don’t then we should really examine their presence at all. not saying they shouldn’t be present, but it should come with extra scrutiny then. and those are just the “side” stories. you’d still have one main story that happens mostly from one, maybe two POV characters

maybe these sort of big team stories work better in comics? you can do a lot with images of a big cast of characters and word bubbles that text and even movies can’t accomplish in the same way. but if so then lets get some comics maybe, even hosted online. but this stuff isn’t cutting it for me in text, and it’s made worse because I can see the talent of the authors coming through and the bones of the story are there, even if I don’t like it all at a structural level. it’s good enough. but I’m not gonna end up liking it when it’s intentionally stuffed in a box it doesn’t fit

also it’s still really not gay at all. they’ve really pulled back/ruined that and that hasn’t changed. frankly it’s not worth much time generally until they take big steps to rectify the egregious missteps of the last few years but I think they just brushed that under the rug and decided it’s radioactive

[italic-doing-random-shit]

im too lazy to read all those questions so all of them

well fuck here we go

~

this took me three days-

1: Whats your biggest insecurity?

I've got three; my body(I feel too feminine), peoples true feelings in me, and my work ethic and effort

2: Biggest physical insecurity?

My chest/torso area

3: Do you like the person your becoming?

Yeah, I like the life I'm working towards is good and i can't wait to live in it

4: Whats the one thing that you thar everyone but you can do?

Actually get peoples attention irl, my voice isn't very loud

5: Do you suffer from anxiety/depression/ptsd/etc?

Yes, I used to, and I think so.

6: Where were you born?

Southern Texas, much more humid

7: What do you think people say behind your back

No good stuff, but that might be the anxiety

8: Do you look up to anyone?

Not really, most of my idols were shitty

9: What makes you feel guilty?

Do not get me started, I can start feeling guilty for someone's tone towards me

10: Boring hobby you enjoy?

Watching gaming videos

11: Do you like who you are around people

No, not really. I'm often forgotten and not included because I'm to anxious to start a conversation

12: Future plans?

Go to art school, start a comfy, domestic life

13: Tell a secret

I hate celery

14: Whats an embarrassing event your still really petty about?

I once got in trouble for involuntarily screamed during sex ed because there were pictures

15: Do you get wonderlust?

YES. EVERYWHERE ALL THE TIME

16: Romantic prefernce

I prefer women/femenine people, but I am not closed to anything

17: How many parents do you have?

Four, two step and two bio

18: Do they get along?

No, not really. My dad and mom can never communicate and cause me to mediate since I was little. Plus, my step mom and dad often scream at eachother

19: Do you swear?

Fuck yeah

20: How many siblings? Relationship with them?

Four step siblings, two sisters, both older, two brothers, on older and one younger. I'm very close with my younger brother, Bold. I'm not very close with my older siblings, as they are on my dads side.

21: Ever hurt someone emotionally?

I really try not to unless they have hurt me badly enough, but I have had to turn people down.

22: Has someone hurt you emotionally?

Constantly

23: Do you believe in the afterlife?

Yeah! There's gotta be something after this!

24: What lies do you believe anyways

That my friend is straight, he sent a group chat that I was in a bunch of thirst traps

25: Do you consider yourself to be poor, average, or wealthy?

I'd consider my family to be better then average but not wealthy

26: tattoo meanings?

Id like a flower tattoo of something meaningfull, I'm not sure yet however

27: How many friend groups do you have? How do they vary?

I don't really have friend groups, but my irl friends vary so much

28: Do you work?

Not quite, I have a practicum do school however

29: do you want a partner for life?

Yes

30: Who have you never forgiven?

Nobody

31: What are you looking forward to now?

Long term: Meeting all of you and giving you all cupcakes

Short term: I'm going out of town soon

32: If there's anything you could've changed about your past, what would it be?

I wish I didn't show as much academic potential then what I truly have when I was younger. Less stress and maybe I could've been diagnosed sooner

33: favorite color

RED LOVE RED

34: Unpopular opinion

I don't like pizza, unless its hiiwain

35: Last good book you read

To kill a mocking bird, as boring as it was to read for school, it was still good

36: Favorite book

Wishtree

37: Favorite poem?

Don't have one

38: Favorite movie?

Luca

39: Favorite song?

This rotates very often, but currently, Partners in crime by Set it off

40: Favorite kind of food?

Sweet and chewy

41: What kind of food trigger your gag reflex?

No foods. But when I bone breaks and you can see the break, ill need a moment

42: What are you missing in your life

As fucking cheesy as it sounds, you guys. I don't like the majorit of people here and i need to hug you all

43:if you could chose your name—

I did, it’s Parker

44/45/46: earliest/recent/beautiful Dream you remember having?

I don’t dream

47: do you have a car?

nope! I’m not able to legally allowed to drive and I have hamaxophobia

48: are you scared of death?

nope, it happens to all of us. I just don’t want to speed up the process

50: Dream job?

I would love to create something like TADC, lackidasiy, or something like that. I’d love to create the story and work on the animation

51: are you religious?

Kinda, I grew up with a Christian belief, but I don’t affiliate with any specific religion. I believe there’s something out there, but not anything specifically.

52: how do you calm yourself?

distraction, if I get my mind off of what’s bothering me, then I’ll be fine

53: most annoying thing that happens daily

my bones popping and hurting

54: urban, suburban, or rural

Urban

55: one talent you wish you had?

I wanna play piano

56: do well or struggle in school?

depends on the class

57: speech impediment?

I have a bit of a stutter when I speak because I’m thinking to fast

58: most terrifying thing that ever happened to you?

getting outed without my consent

59: Happiest day of your life?

Meeting all of you, especially Zain

60: early, on time, or late?

yes

61: quirks?

None that I can think of, most that are visible is just me stimming

62: do you wish you could start tomorrow with a clean slate?

I mean, don’t I already do that every morning. In a sense of course

63: do you ever get paranoid?

yes quite often

64: do you believe in human souls?

kinda??? I mean, I think people are born with certain personality characteristics, but also I think it can be altered by environment

65: what’s a mistake you’ll never make again

making a chocolate pie and trusting certain people

66: what fandoms do you belong to?

utmv mainly, but I enjoy anything that you guys and gals bring me

67: Old urls

Used to be CallMeAdam, i was rotating through names I'd like to call myself, but I much prefer Parker and Italic now

68: How often do you lie?

A lot. Compulsively. Only to teachers and parents.

69: do you like the attention you get?

mostly, there’s some that I don’t like but that’s mostly irl attention

70: are you dating someone? What’s your favorite thing about them?

I am indeed! I love her confidence, but I adore everything about her

71: are you concerned about the environment?

yes

72: what stresses you out most?

Drama that gets blown out of proportion, school, going to my dads

73: credit, debit, EBT, or cash

cash. It’s much harder to track back to me

74: favorite historical figure?

I don’t know his name, but the dude who consumed his entire supply of pervirtin or however you spell it

75: what’s a movie you know is bad but enjoy anyways

Big, it’s awful but so funny

77: what’s your kink?

got a few; praise, dominance, and a few others I will only mention in private

78: what’s the on thing you don’t feel comfortable doing around friends?

there’s a lot of things, but talking is a big one

79: most prized possession?

heart necklace

80: are ever proud of yourself?

sometimes

81: do you ever tear yourself down?

yep

82: do you ever tell people how you feel?

maybe, depends

83: do you like it when people guess how you feel?

depends. If you’re wrong, im punching you(unless we’re joking around). If your right, then it make both of our lives so much easier

84: are you worried about someone close to you?

constantly, we’re all mentally I’ll and I’m way too empathetic for my own good

85: How many interview questions do you answer to yourself?

I don't exactly understand what this is asking, but I have done interviews before so just standard questions about my art work and life

86: if you could meet anyone living or dead, who would it be?

you already know who I’m going to say

87: if I had a clone of myself, and there’s not enough resources, would you get along?

most likely, im am very self sacrificing when it come to my mental and physical health

88: what kind of things confuse you

it can be anything if you try an describe it to me verbally

89: are to hot or too cold?

yes

90: What time period, other then the current one, would you like to be in

Well, probably somewhere in the 1500's,

91: what’s your sign? Does it match you?

Aquarius, and kinda

92: do you believe in astronomy?

no, but I still find it to be really interesting

93: do you like extreme activities?

some, im not very. Brave.

94: are you waiting for someone to save you?

not really, I want to save myself and bring others with me

95: can you remember the last time you had a deep connection with someone?

yeah, with panda on Sunday. It felt like talking to my future self/pos

96: do you like where you grew up?

nope! Terrible for my asthma, never felt accepted by people irl, plus a terrible problem with cis men being asshole and weird

97: favorite word

moonstruck; the incapability to be normal from being deeply enamored or in love with something or someone

98: do you think your interesting?

yeah!

99: what people do you wish knew me better?

my parents, all four of them. Maybe I’d be happier if they understood

100: are you okay?

not really, but I’m working towards being better

101: what’s been going on in your mind lately?

lotsa ideas for animations

[hvneybxns]

(—) ★ spotted!! BROOKS GRIFFIN on the cover of this week’s most recent tabloid! many say that the 30 year old looks like MILES TELLER, but i don’t really see it. while the BULL RIDER / STUNT DOUBLE is known for being DRIVEN my inside sources say that they have a tendency to be FLIRTATIOUS i swear, every time i think of them, i hear the song COWBOYS & ANGELS BY JESSIE MURPH { he-him / cismale }

brooks griffin grew up a chronic middle child, never unloved by his parents but also never the center of attention with three siblings either side of him. he was wild, a little unkempt and liked to get himself into bother because the longest that his trouble would ever last was a few hours till another kid in the line up did something.

he did good in school when he could focus but that was a problem and brooks would rather have been out on a horse than in a class room. he looked up to his dad and big brother wyatt in everything they did and he wanted to be just like them.

when brooks was 11, wyatt and his friends went to a summer fair rodeo and wanting nothing more than to be like his brother, brooks snuck in the back of the truck to the fair. he had been planning on telling his brother that he was there as soon as they arrived but the boys all piled out and brooks lost them somewhere in the mix. it didn't matter to him though because he had made his way to the bull riding pen and he was in awe.

brooks stood and watched the show for hours, each rider that came and went fascinating him more till someone seemed to notice the unattended 11 year old and brooks ended up driven home to the ranch in the back of a police car. he ended up grounded but that was perfect for him, he built himself a rig in one of the barns that didn't get used much and began to learn to be like the men that he had watched.

a few months later his parents realized that it wasn't a phase and eventually started to work on his passion with brooks given it was the first thing that he had shown this much passion in. he only got better as he got older, a habit in the griffin household and he was competing by the time he was fourteen.

well into his twenties brooks was a household name to anyone that had any interest in, his bones hurt and he had a worse back than his dad that had spent years on the ranch but that didn't stop the thrill that came every time he hit that 8 seconds, didn't stop the rush he got when his name was called as the winner and those world champions rolled in. competing for state and himself brooks was at the top of his game and nothing was going to shake him off.

after his last title win, people kept telling brooks that he needed to slow down but he didn't believe them, didn't think that it was the right time but when an offer landed on his door step, the male found himself willing to consider a slight change of pace, for a couple of years at least, so long as he could still ride. when the fancy studio contacted him about coming in and consulting and doubling as a stunt rider on the set of some big movie brooks found himself intrugued, with a brother already in LA the move wouldn't cut him off from everything and would give him a break that his body needed for a few months.

now in LA he feels like a fish out of water but he's used to using all his texas charm for good and it just taking things one day at a time.

[absolutefilthimsosorry]

Tagged by @calvinahobbes

Tag someone you want to get to know better! Or just check in with.

Favourite colour? Purple

Last song? Get Him Back! by Olivia Rodrigo. It’s clever, I like how it uses the two interpretations of ‘get him back’ throughout the song.

Last movie? I don’t watch a lot of films so I think either Red White and Royal Blue which was cute and hot but not as good as the book, and the erasure of women and Nora’s sexuality annoyed me; or Tall Girl with a friend (not my choice) which was a weird one and not something I’d recommend. It acts like being tall is the greatest hardship for a teen girl and her life is so hard when she’s an able bodied cishet rich white girl. I mean her best friend is a bi-coded (not explicitly out but you can tell someone wanted her to be and it was blocked) black girl but apparently they live in a utopian world where the only thing you get bullied for is being tall. If only huh?

Currently watching? Sex Education. New season just dropped and it’s queerer than ever! Obviously Netflix saw how well heartstopper did and ran with it and I for one am not complaining! It’s still cringe af at some points, I literally had to take me headphones off or look away a couple of times because the second hand embarrassment was too much for me and I’m only like 4 episodes in but overall it’s a bit of fun.

Other stuff I watched this year? Heartstopper - so cute and aroace rep means a lot to me. Good Omens - personally loved it but wow the second season is very different to the first so I can see why some people didn’t like it. Shadow and Bone - really enjoyed this season, it felt like a step up from the first series. Also Wylan and Jesper, I’m a sucker for a good flirty ship. Um I’m sure there’s other stuff. I’ve been watching a lot of YouTube this year, I’m loving smosh games right now and these YouTubers called Dan and Phil though I wish they’d post more often…

Shows I dropped this year? I’m not sure there are any. There’s a few I’ve started and do intend to finish. Oh was yellowjackets this year? I watched s1 of that and don’t think I’m going to watch s2 so I guess that counts.

Last book? A Swedish Christmas Fairy Tale. Should I have kept this for December? Probably. But I was in the mood for something cutesy and sapphic and this is what the library had. It was okay. Fine as a light read but not something I’d have spent money on.

Tagging @foreverjustanemokidatheart @cloudhowell @natigail