#but the moment I just watch someone play a horror game | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eideticmemory · 3 months ago

Text

SNAP OUT OF IT | SPENCER REID

Spencer knows he’s just a coworker. He knows he’s just a friend. He knows you’ve got a boyfriend. He just doesn’t really give a fuck!

Word Count: 5.5k

Warning/Includes: Taken!Reader, DownBad!Spencer, a little angst and a little smut.

Dedicated to wifetthew + future mrs stewart (and sidepiece) who inspire me everyday and don’t even realize it.

Spencer vividly remembers the moment he realized he was in love with you. Spencer remembers everything about you but this moment in particular, he recounts in his mind a lot. You had just joined the unit. He could tell you - you'd only been there three months, two weeks, and five days. You were flying across time zones so by the time you landed, it would be six days. Everyone else had fallen asleep or was nearly there. Save for you two. You tried your hand in a round of chess but you're shit at it so you'd taken to a game of cards. Spencer remembers thinking it was the easiest conversation he's ever had in his life. He could talk and talk and talk until he lost his breath and when he was done, you'd do the same until there was no air left in your lungs either. He shuffled the cards between his fingertips, hanging onto your every word, watching the sparkle in your eye as you spoke. He kept firing out subtle agreements between your words like, 'yeah...oh, I know...absolutely,’ not just because it's impossible to disagree with your pretty face but because you’re so smart. You get it. He actually had the thought: she gets it.

Finally, he thought, someone gets it.

And you felt just the same. You said to him, "Thank you for agreeing. No one ever gives a shit about my foreign film analysis."

"I...I give a shit."

You chuckled at the gentleness with which he swore and although his voice was soft, it was genuine. "I appreciate it. My boyfriend's unreasonably against the horror genre as a whole. I think it's his biggest flaw. I like being scared."

Because you were too busy counting up your cards, you couldn’t see the bright smile instantly drop from Spencer's face. He could feel the shift in his muscles, the way his eyes stretched wide. He promptly shifted his gaze down and cleared his throat, “B-boyfriend?"

"Yeah..." you shrugged. Very casual, very nonchalant. "Three years next month."

"Oh, wow," he replied and it sounded kind of snide but you didn't think much of it. “That's nice."

He had realized he was in love with you three years too late.

Spencer could have accepted defeat, yeah. Absolutely. If there's one thing the boy genius can do, it's compartmentalize. This is work. This is [y/n]. This is my coworker. This is our job. This is our jet. These are the cards we've been dealt. The best thing to do would be to play them as they fall. Yet, he keeps himself awake for six hour flights just to hold your undivided attention, to talk about things nobody else cares about. His eyes linger on you as you deliver a profile and he thinks: That's [y / n]. That's her face. That's her voice. That's the sweater that matches her eyes just right and the boots she wears when we travel down south. If there's one thing the boy genius can't do when it comes to you, it's compartmentalize. How could he?

He finds himself standing by the elevator at four in the morning. There is nothing exciting about being called in at four in the morning, save for the prospect of seeing you. The elevator dings and he stands up straight, poses his satchel just perfectly on his hip. He wants to be picture perfect ready. Like a model directly out of a Backup Boyfriend catalog. Although, when you step out, you don't even notice he's there. You storm through the bullpen, your phone held up to your ear and your head ducked down. You sequester yourself in an awkward corner, far enough that you feel secluded but not enough so that Spencer can't see you. He sways in place, an attempt to look casual, his hair tucked behind his ear so he can hear you better. He picks up strained words like, 'please...I don't know...okay...fine...bye!' It all comes to a sudden end, your thumb landing on the screen with such force that it could crack.

You seamlessly join the rest of the team, shoving your phone in your back pocket. Try as you might to shift your focus, the edge hasn't quite left your body so when Spencer asks, "You okay?" You respond with a curt, "Yeah. I'm fine.”

He thinks: That's fine. That's okay. I can take it. On the jet, you bury your nose in a case file and when your phone won't stop vibrating, you silence it completely. Spencer brings you a cup of coffee and you hardly even process it.

"Cream and extra sugar," he pips because he knows that's how you like it.

"Thanks.”

That's it. Spencer waits for more but it never comes. He sits on the opposite side of the jet, watching you pick up your phone, huff, and type, type, type in a rage. He thinks: I cannot take this.

The case is a good distraction. A relief for him to know that even when you are not yourself, you're still brilliant. You just can't help it. There's a moment where he just finishes the geographical profile and you stand at his side, arms crossed as you look it over. Your gasp cuts through the air like a knife and his eyes land on you instantaneously.

"Spencer Reid." You put your hand on his shoulder and oh, he almost drops to his knees. “You're a fucking genius."

You race out of the room and he exhales a breath he didn't even know he was holding. He grips onto his shoulder and his skin is still red hot.

A win is good. You needed a win. You all needed a win. Makes you feel good for something. Makes the flight home much less suffocating than its departure. On top of solving murders in a rush, the mental gymnastics your brain has endured over the week leaves you exhausted. You pull a blanket over your body and snuggle against the solid walls of the jet. You let out this big, heavy sigh just as Spencer sits down across from you.

“Close call today, huh?” he says.

“Yeah,” you nod. You look up at him with these bleary eyes and they’re so beautiful that he doesn’t think he’ll be able to talk.

But he does, “All thanks to you.”

You smile. You want to be bashful, to deny the praise, but you don’t have the energy. “Thanks for the pat on the back.”

“Oh, anytime.”

He watches you take another deep breath, your body lulling into further peace by the second. He hates to disrupt it. “You, uh…” he stutters. “You wanna share what’s been bothering you now?”

You glance over at him from the corner of your eye, “Is it that obvious?”

“Only to a profiler.”

You chuckle. He loves to make you laugh. “It’s nothing,” you shake your head.

“You…you know I’m the profiler, right?”

You sit up, another laugh escaping your throat without much thought. It feels nice. “Yeah. Right.”

“So?”

“I’m just…stressed…” you finally admit, though that part was evident.

“Blackjack?” He sets an array of cards in front of you.

You nod, “I have a stressful job. Hit me.”

He flips another card, “Five. Yeah, you do.”

“And…it’s hard when…when things at home are stressful, too. Makes it worse. Hit me.”

Another card, “Ooh, six. That makes sense.”

“Sometimes, I…I don’t know…I let myself get pulled in too many different directions,” you look over your cards, dangerously close to 21, and you take a leap of faith. “Hit me.”

He turns the final card over and it brings you right to 21. The way it unfolds shocks you, pulls you from your brain fog and you break out in a grin. “21? That’s 21, right?”

“Yeah,” he nods. He bites down on the smile on his lip and it’s a look on him you’ve never seen before. You can’t stop staring at it. “All you, money bags.”

You giggle, “Did you rig that?”

“Me? No,” he shakes his head, casually clearing the pile. “There’s no rigging in blackjack.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. I’ve heard that before.”

“Everything should be that easy for you,” he whispers. There’s a slight change in his tone that even an untrained profiler could pick up. He glances up to meet your gaze, “I’d rig it all for you if I could.”

Now, he thinks because he’s resetting the table that you’re not focused on the subliminal message in his voice. But you notice. You look down at your cards, look back at him, “Hit me.”

When the boyfriend is a concept, an idea trapped inside your phone, a mirage that you only mention in passing conversation, Spencer doesn’t think much of him. Spencer doesn’t think of the motherfucker at all. You clock into work and he’s determined to take the time he can get with you, any way he can, the only way he knows how.

You get back into DC one night and the sun hasn’t even set yet. Emily and JJ invite you out for drinks and it’s with an anxious nod that you accept. So Spencer super graciously accepts. He strides beside you on the walk from the bureau, keeping you tucked in on the safety of the sidewalk because he doesn’t know how to not shield you. From anything. You order a wine and a glass of water. Spencer sits right beside you and orders himself a shirley temple.

You gasp, “Ohhh my god, I should’ve got that.”

“Here,” he slides the glass over to you.

“Oh, no, no. It’s okay.”

“No, take it.”

“I can’t.”

“But I’m offering. I don’t even want it. Maraschino cherries, yuck, gross. You have it.”

You chuckle and shyly grab the drink, sticking a straw in. “Thank you.”

“Mhm,” he nods. And he means that mhm in the way of it’s really no big deal. He’d give you a kidney if he was a match.

He trades you for your water though he doesn’t pay much attention to it. He watches you fall into loud conversation with the other ladies, yours being the only laugh to match Penelope’s in pitch.

You lean into him, cackling, “She’s insane. Oh my god, she’s ridiculous.”

His skin buzzes where your shoulders make contact and his face is bright red from how wide he smiles at you. “Oh, yeah. I could’ve told you that.”

Spencer’s absolutely obsessed with the joy in your eyes, the way you nearly choke on your second shirley temple. The way you’re so close to him. He cannot look away. So when your smile suddenly drops and that joy’s promptly replaced with anxiety, he’s the first to notice.

“Hey,” you whisper to the figure behind him. He turns around and looks the man up and down. “You’re early.”

The Boyfriend shrugs, “Sorry. Hi, everyone.”

He’s not at all like Spencer imagined him. He’s taller. Not as much of a little bitch.

You rise from your seat and wrap your hand around Boyfriend’s bicep. “Uh, this is just some of the team. That’s Emily, Penelope, JJ and, uh, Spencer. This is my boyfriend.”

They all dole out polite waves and smiles. Except for Spencer. He stands up tall and ha, just as he thought, they’re the same height. He gives Boyfriend a stern handshake. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too. Spencer? Heard a lot about you.”

“Oh, that’s nice. Haven’t heard that much about you.”

The ladies exchange confused glances and you exhale a quick breath to cut the tension.

“Well, we’ve been together a while. Too much there to sum up in words, I’m sure.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Spencer nods and here is another smile you’ve never seen on his face before. It’s not genuine. That, you know.

“You ready to go?” Boyfriend asks and you nod.

“Mhm. Bye, you guys!” you wave, falling into the grip of the possessive hand around your waist.

Emily glares at Spencer as he lowers back onto his stool, his eyes not leaving the door even when you’re long out of sight. “You done swinging that thing around?” she mutters.

“Hm?” he hums. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Mhm.”

As Boyfriend opens the car door for you, he can’t help but comment, “So that’s Spencer, huh?”

“Yeah?” you buckle yourself in and it’s an anxious few seconds before he’s buckled in beside you.

“Well, it makes sense now.”

“What?”

“The little toothpick’s in love with you.”

Spencer doesn’t think it’s a coincidence that the time you spend on your phone at work becomes more frequent after that. That you come in looking drained and pale even at ten o’clock in the morning. That, carefully, you distance yourself from him. It’s not a coincidence. It just hurts.

As he reads over a case file, he builds a tower of cards. You can’t help but admire the way his brain splits in two, one side reading and the other stacking each piece just right. It’s cool. You think it’s cool, but there’s not a kind bone in your body today and you snip, “Got nothing better to do?” as you sit across from him. “People are dying.”

“People are always dying. Kind of how we get a paycheck.”

“Mm. How altruistic of you.”

“I’m just passing the time,” he continues to stack. He’s very near the top of the pyramid. “People do all sorts of things to pass time.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, you know. They spend hours, days, weeks, years…building something. And you know, you would think that would ensure some type of stability or longevity or…anything, right?”

“I guess.”

“But sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes no matter how much time passes or…how much effort you put in,” he places the final two cards on top. “It’s just not meant to last.”

And with a tiny flick of his finger, the whole pyramid comes tumbling down. You can’t help but watch the picturesque scene, the way they float down onto the table in a big mess.

Spencer doesn’t think there’s a chance in hell that you don’t know what he’s talking about. You’re smart. You get it.

You don’t acknowledge it, though.

That night, you can’t sleep. For some reason, you’ve got this idea in your head that if you force your eyes open for a few hours longer, you can make yourself useful on a case that, so far, has no end in sight. The hotel accommodating the team is a nice one. There’s a library on the first floor that they leave open 24/7, perfect for a profiler on the hunt. You flip through the files in the near pitch black, curled up in a chair beside the tiniest lamp in the world. Despite your eye for detail, you don’t even notice when Spencer walks in. Not until he clears his throat.

You look up at him, startled, until you see his face, “Oh,” not the reaction he was hoping for. “Should’ve known you’d find me here.”

“I like to think I’d find you anywhere,” he shrugs. He sits down in the chair beside you and looks over your shoulder. You can smell him from just a foot away but it doesn't affect you. It can’t affect you. “Any luck?”

“No. Care to help?”

“Not at all.”

“Oh, great.”

“[y/n], it’s late. Nothing you can do without brain power.”

“I just hate…” you start, the exclamation coming out before you can hold yourself back. Spencer watches you intently, hanging onto your voice. “T-the detergent they use on the linens. Gives me a headache.”

He sighs, “Yeah. Me too. I swiped some extra pillow mints. Want one?”

“Mhm,” you hold your hand out and unwrap the candy instantly. It helps your anxiety.

Enough so that you open up just a bit more, you tell Spencer about the headache that’s been bashing against your skull all day. “But maybe I’ve just had too much coffee.”

“Or not enough.”

You laugh, “Yeah, no, that must be it.”

Your phone pings in your lap and you check the message very quickly, the small smile that once sat on your lips dissipating in thin air. Just when he wrangled a laugh out of you, Spencer thinks. Of course. He watches your entire mood change in the blink of an eye and he fucking hates it.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Yeah…tired. Should probably head to bed.”

“But the detergent?”

You chuckle, “I’ll survive.”

On the elevator ride up to your floor, you rest your back against the wall, Spencer perched right beside you. You keep your eyes closed, your hands gripping the bar for balance. The motion doesn’t help your headache. You gulp, clear your throat, and when you open your eyes, Spencer is staring at you. Shamelessly. You furrow your eyebrows at him, tracking his eyes as they focus in on your mouth.

“Are you looking at my lips?”

He nods, “Mhm.”

“Can you read them?”

“Mhm.”

“I have a boyfriend.”

“Oh,” that snaps him out of his trance and he stands up straight, shaking his head. The elevator dings and he walks off, exasperated, exhausted, exclaiming, “[y/n], who cares?”

Your jaw drops in shock and by the time you step out to follow him, he’s already marched into his room. You scoff as you burst into your own suite. You crash in bed and you lay there tossing and turning for what feels like hours. In reality, it’s only thirty minutes but it’s long enough. Long enough for this unbridle, illogical rage to build within you. Long enough for your mind to fill with thoughts like: who the fuck does he think he is? What the fuck does he know? Oh, I’ll tell him what he doesn’t know. And you hop out of bed. You storm down the hall in your slippers, knocking on Spencer’s door like, ironically, the feds.

Lucky for you, he was nowhere near asleep yet. He swings the door open and he opens his mouth to speak but you beat him to it.

“Listen, Einstein.”

“I’m listening.”

“Just…just because you don't get it doesn’t mean you have the right to shit on my relationship.”

“Who was shitting on your relationship?”

“Stop it.”

“Fine, I was shitting on your relationship.”

“And that’s not fair.”

“But you’re…” and he enunciates this next word very clearly. “Not happy.”

“Don’t tell me what I am. You don’t know anything. You don’t know me or my life. You don’t get to cast judgement.”

“Oh, okay. Okay. Well, then, I’m so happy for you, [y/n]. I am.”

You’ve said all you need to say and you have no interest in hearing any more. You turn around and march away but he persists, “Hey, I really am. I’ll be the first one to buy something off your wedding registry!”

There are no more card games on the jet for a while.

And that sucks, but you’re trying to prove a point here. Spencer knows nothing. Maybe no one’s ever told him that before and maybe that’s why it stings. Maybe that’s why he can hardly look you in the eye, but you’re trying to prove a point here.

You’ve drawn a boundary that should’ve been drawn long ago. Not even because you wanted to but out of spite. Spite can carry you a long way. It has before. The nature of your work makes it easy to clock in and think of nothing else. Focus on nothing other than getting the job done. It’s the moments in between that are hard.

Like tonight, as you’re typing up case notes at your desk. It’s too quiet. It leaves too much room for opportunity. Taking full advantage, Spencer sets a small gift bag in front of you. You tilt your head as you look up at him, your face etched with inhibition.

“I…” he stutters. “I got it a while ago. Thought it’d be a nice birthday present and I won’t see you tomorrow, so…”

You give him a small smile. The ice doesn’t just thaw, it melts. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” you dive into the bag, pulling out the hardcover book and holding it flat between your palms. You release a small gust of air from your nose. You touch the textured font of the lettering along the cover. “Oh, Spencer.”

He has to act like the tone in your voice doesn’t have the biggest effect on him. Hearing his name in such a gentle whisper. He just shrugs, “I recognized the limited edition cover while I was in this library near the art museum. It’s a nice library, you’d like it.”

“I love it,” you breathe before you can censor it. “The book. I love the book. It’s wonderful. Thank you.”

“I’m glad.”

There’s so much more to be said. The weight of it all vibrates behind your teeth and you grind them together as you gaze at Spencer. He can see your mouth aching to open but he knows it won’t.

“Well…happy birthday.”

“Thank you.”

“I hope it’s a great one.”

“Thank you.”

And you watch him disappear. You feel your heart sink to the barrel of your stomach, like all the words you’re destined to scream out to him are making you sick.

This nausea lasts well into your birthday. No matter the sheer amount of fuss. No matter the amount of texts or calls or gifts that arrive at your door. You’re sick. Even when you put on your fanciest dress for dinner, you curl up in your office with your new book, finally and for no reason, gathering the courage to open its pages and read the quote recounted on the first page.

“And here you come

with a shield for a heart

and a sword for a tongue”

Happy Birthday, [y/n]

Spencer

You slam the book shut and trap it in the drawer of your desk. You’re sick.

You still eat at your birthday dinner. The love and affection reserved for a day like today helps settle your stomach. You think: I am [y/n]. It’s my birthday. These are my gifts. They are from people who love me. This is my boyfriend. This is my birthday cake. It works, it’s working.

Then he pulls out that fucking ring.

The angle at which he kneels in front of you catches the light just right and the diamond blinds you in the eye. Your mind, along with the entire room, falls silent. For the first time in what feels like a lifetime - silence. When his voice cuts through the thick air, you can see his lips moving, you can hear the vibrations going wah wah wah wah wah. But nothing is as loud as the sound of your own breathing, heavy and rapid. Your hands are over your heart but just to keep it from forcing its way out of your chest. You’re sick.

You’re sick.

Spencer had just gotten in bed. He made it the entire day without allowing himself to call you and now he figures he can force himself to sleep. That is until there’s a booming knock at his door. Now he’s wired. He springs into action like it’s not a potential threat and he throws his body against the door to glance out the peephole.

When he opens it, you are still out of breath. Your chest is heaving and you wheeze with every exhale. His eyes travel down your body, the pretty dress and your beaten and bare feet, the heels dangling from your fingers. The look in your eyes is a mystery to him. It’s laced with exasperation and desperation and he furrows his brows trying to figure it all out. Nonetheless, when he sees you moving towards him, he wraps his arms tight around your waist, opens his mouth and gasps as you kiss him.

He’s quick to close the door behind you, stumbling when you drop your shoes to the ground, but only for a moment. No time for stumbling here. He moans at the sudden grip you take of his hair and his body pushes into yours even more, directing you to his bedroom with just the pressure of his chest.

Never expecting this to happen, let alone tonight, Spencer is quick to swipe away all the books that have piled up on his bed. He promptly takes their place and grabs your waist to pull you back into the kiss. You have to hike your dress up your thighs to properly straddle him but once you, he swears he can feel the warmth all the way to his toes.

Your eyes roll back as he licks all over your neck, attacking your chest with sloppy kisses and sudden bites. You feel his erection raise between your legs and the pressure of it has you moaning directly in his ear. The vibration scratches just the right spot in his brain and he bunches your dress up in his hands, the veins along his arm straining through his skin.

You huff, pull back to look at his face, his eyes hooded and hungry. “What…” you pant. “What am I doing?”

Caught off guard, Spencer can’t do much but blink. And shrug. “What…are you doing?”

You stumble over your words, if that’s what you could even call them. It’s more a collection of whines and one short whimper before you simply carry on. Grab his face, catch his mouth and let it go. Perfect for Spencer, because he didn’t really need an answer.

He follows your lead as you undo the tie on his sweatpants. He pushes and you pull until his throbbing cock is free. You don’t mean to gasp, but you do. It just all feels so unreal, like a dream, like a fantasy. Except it’s not, it’s tangible. You can feel it. You can touch him - and you do. You wrap your hand around him and shudder as he grips onto your forearms. His teeth are clenched tight so it makes it harder for him to kiss you, harder for him to breathe but he keeps you locked in place. If he could talk, he’d beg please don't stop, please. Please, please, please.

And it’s like you can read his mind. Through the ferocity with which he pushes his face into yours, the way his hips buck underneath you, you get it. You’ll give it to him. You pull your panties to the side and just the tip pressing against you sends a visual jolt through your body.

“Yeah?” You whisper. More like - right? This is right? Right?

Almost immediately, Spencer grunts, “Yes. Yes. Yeah,” he could say it in a million other languages if it would get the point across but english is good enough. You lower yourself down on him and thoughtless, he yelps, “Yes!” as he falls back on the bed.

Even though he’s transcended his own body, Spencer keeps his eyes locked on you. His gaze follows your jaw as it drops wide open and both of your moans fall in sync as you start to roll your hips. Spencer’s hand clamps down on your thigh, the other reaching up to touch your face. The tender contact makes your vision blurry but you can still see the way he’s looking at you.

He touches your hair and your jaw and takes a soft sweep over your cheekbone. His thumb runs over your bottom lip. He can feel your breath coming out hot and quiet each time you land on him, the rhythm of your body taking the air out of both of you.

Is this really happening? he thinks. This can’t be happening. But you increase your speed, lower your inhibition, send a shock of pleasure through him so good that he has no choice but to believe it’s real. You catch his thumb between your lips and he grunts, whines out for you, “[y/n]…”

“Mm, yes?” you lay your body flat against his, your hands intertwining with his amongst the bedsheets and he clenches his fist tight, tight, tight, tight. It’s all so much. Stimulation coming from everywhere at once. From your chest rubbing against his, from your pussy tightening around him like you’re nearly swallowing him whole. From the messy kiss your lips tangle in and the ever increasing volume from you both.

Spencer bends his knees behind you, supporting your body when your movements become rushed and uncontrollable. With your hand pressed to his chest and your head thrown back, he’s emboldened enough to grope your breasts, losely place his hands around your throat.

“Oh…” you whimper. “G-god…” and Spencer hangs onto the broken sound of your voice, enamored by the way your eyes cross over one another. He feels like he’s not doing much, like his body is still in shock and most focused on keeping himself grounded. As you crash down on him, he bends underneath the pressure, overwhelmed as each bounce grows more deliberate than the last. Each collision accompanied by a throaty, “Mm…mm…hmm.” Until your thighs come to a grinding halt and latch onto him, the orgasm radiating from your belly to your chest and directly to your head. He responds to your boisterous moan with a breathless gasp, catching you in his arms when you land on his chest.

He peppers your shoulder with tiny kisses, licking his way to your neck, biting your throat because he absolutely has to. Your hips continue in this mindless rhythm, draining every last twitch from your body as he whispers, “[y/n]…”

“Hm?”

“[y/n]…I, mm,” you catch his voice in your mouth, pushing your tongue between his lips. You attack his neck. You push his shirt up his torso just to move down his body and kiss his stomach.

“[y/n]…ah!” and though you love the sound of your name on his lips, you love to hear him scream even more and after you suck his cock into your mouth, he can’t stop screaming. Mouth open, body trembling, ear ringing moans. He reaches down to keep your hair out of your face and his hips jolt a bit rougher than he means to. He wants to look at you but his body is too taut. He wants to hold you in the palm of his hand, to call out your name one last time to make sure this is real. But he shoots into your mouth, his legs flailing around your frame, and all he can do, still, is scream.

You hum. You swallow. You slide off of him with a sharp pop. You crawl off of his body and drop as soon as your head hits the pillow. Spencer’s hand keep track of you, grazing your thigh, sad to feel you leave, begging to keep you close. Even as he struggles to breath, he balls up the edge of your dress in his fist. You lean back against the headboard, looking up at his ceiling fan, your body finally exerting all its energy and unable to move any further. The room has settled into nothing but the sound of heavy breathing and catharsis.

Spencer looks up at you and when you make eye contact with him, there are so many more complicated thoughts you could have. But the only thing that swims in your mind is the slow bead of sweat dripping down his forehead. You rest your knuckles on his cheekbone and he promptly grabs your wrist, peppers soft kisses all over your hand.

You owe him something. He has every right to ask. As he opens his mouth, you’re prepared to tell the truth. You will give him nothing but the truth.

“Did you see they’re adapting another Stephen King novel into a movie?”

You exhale a small laugh. Partially because you weren’t expecting it and partially because you had been dying to talk to him about it. “Yes. And I think it’s stupid.”

“Me too! I mean, the premise is promising, I think it can be done, but it’s the…”

“Supernatural element.”

“Yeah!”

“It’s hard to pull off. Major chances of it turning out cheesy and robotic.”

“Yes! Thank you! I’m still going to see it.”

“Oh, me too,” you laugh and his laughter blends in just perfectly.

It can wait. There’s a lot to catch up on. A lot of questions to ask and answer but for now, it’s easy. This, Spencer thinks. This is it. This is actually the easiest conversation he’s ever had in his life. And he’s not gonna fuck it up now.

Author’s note:

Ahh 😝 thanks for reading!!! Like, reblog, comment, all the things!! Just wanted an excuse to post this meme. Stay safe out here 😚

#mine #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst

998 notes · View notes

lokidjarin-7567 · 2 months ago

Text

I Hate It Here

Kang Dae-ho x Reader After joining a mysterious game of life and death, you find solace in the company of another player, one so vibrant and optimistic it draws your mind from the horrors that await you. fem!reader, fluff, usual content warnings for Squid Game, guns, language, death etc, obvious spoilers for Squid Game season 2, mostly edited, not perfectly accurate to the episodes but close enough 5k words Part 2 of this fic is now up! Thank you for all of the love so far and I will be writing more Squid Game fics about other characters too so keep an eye out ;) TTPD Contents | General Masterlist | AO3

You hadn’t even considered that the weird guy who started shouting before the first game started would be telling the truth. That you could actually die here for money, or for entertainment, or for whatever the twisted fuckers who brought you here wanted. You figured he was just vying for attention, or trying to scare you all into backing out. Then you heard a gunshot.

After that moment, you followed every piece of advice he shouted out, satisfied he knew something you didn’t. You made it over the finish line, shocked and traumatised, thanks only to hiding behind someone a lot taller than you. You immediately collapsed on the dirt panting with exhaustion, a few tears falling from your eyes. What had you gotten yourself into?

You were relieved when Player 456 called for a vote to end the games, and even more relieved at the realisation that his number was only a little after your own. He was called to vote first, red X marking his jersey, and you followed suit just after him, lucky as Player 452 that you could get your voting over and done with quickly. He smiled at you, bowing his head slightly in acknowledgment, and you returned the favour, moving to stand beside him. You quietly celebrated with him when a player chose your side, and you watched as he tried to talk to the remaining people, explaining how he’d played before. Then you consoled him when it didn’t work. It came down to the last vote, the stress almost too much to bear, but as Player 001 was adorned in blue light from his selection, you realised you were stuck here, and you were close to crying again.

Player 456 automatically took you under his wing. There seemed to be another player that he knew, so you sat with them as you ate the provided food, dejected at the outcome, but grateful to at least have found some allies. You were trying to ask a few subtle questions about the game, but other players kept approaching your group. You shrunk back a little, avoiding the attention that came with being around the previous winner of the games, listening as people spoke of their admiration for him, and grilled him for information as to what was happening next.

You hadn’t noticed at first - a voice speaking from behind you - and honestly, you didn’t want to turn around, still feeling shy and awkward. Eventually, though, the crowd dissipated, and the source of the voice jumped down from one of the bunks. He was tall and lean, shoulder length hair pulled into a half-up half-down style, strays falling around his temples and framing his face. His smile was infectious, carrying from his lips to his eyes, which were rich brown in colour and full of joy and enthusiasm. You were transfixed by him as he introduced himself as Kang Dae-ho, quickly bonding with the man Player 456 knew thanks to their shared military history. He was the antithesis of you - so outgoing, so enthusiastic, so full of optimism. Even down to the blue circle that adorned his uniform; on most, it was a bad look, voting to continue at the risk of others, but on him, it seemed courageous.

His chattiness was as contagious as his smile, and as he joined your group to eat, you found yourself immersed in conversation with him: about the game, about the other players, about the members of your little makeshift crew. Even watching on and cheering together as Player 001 took down a few bullies in front of everyone. He was comfortable to be around. A welcome distraction that helped you forget where you were, or what you might have to do as the days passed.

And it was working. Until, after a while, the conversation lulled momentarily, and you couldn’t stop your mind from drifting to darker places. What the game might be. What it would involve. If it would ever really get as brutal as Gi-hun said it might…

You felt a gentle nudge on your arm, snapping you out of your spell at the sound of your name falling from Dae-ho’s lips.

“You good?” He muttered quietly, a hint of concern on his face. You had been talking for a few hours now, and you had done everything in your power to keep up your positive front, to pretend you were happy to be here but it was fading fast.

“Yeah, I’m just…”

“Scared?” A sigh of relief fell from your lips.

“Yeah.” He smiled softly, glancing around to see where the others were, before leaning in closer.

“Me too, honestly. Just trying not to show it…” There was a sincerity in his voice, a vulnerability that you could tell wasn’t fake. He wasn’t just saying it to make you feel better.

“Dae-ho…” you muttered, gesturing to the blue badge that signified his vote, “why did you choose to stay?” He shrugged, glancing back at the crowd of people who were starting to prepare for lights out.

“I need the money, and honestly, when I voted, I didn’t know anyone here. I figured it’s not like I’m personally killing anyone. No harm no foul, right? It’s just the way a soldier thinks, I guess. You don’t know who you’re shooting, just that they’re in the way of your victory. But now…” he paused a beat, his eyes darting over to where Jung-bae and Gi-hun were sitting, deep in conversation, before landing on you, eyes scanning your face with a curious intensity. “I’ll do everything to keep my team alive.” You couldn’t help but laugh coldly. The sentiment was sweet, sure, but there were no guarantees.

“From what Gi-hun told us, it might not be a team game. It could be something completely out of our control…”

“I’m hopeful!” He exclaimed, the optimistic, puppy-like demeanour back as he grinned at you.

“I’m glad someone is.” The intercom informed you that it was 10 minutes until lights out, and you couldn’t help but let out a shuddering breath. You weren’t looking forward to that - trying to sleep in a dark room filled with hundreds of people you didn’t know. Desperate people.

“Let’s find our beds for the night?” Dae-ho prompted, standing and offering his hand to help you up. You took it, smiling at him thankfully and glancing around for the other members of your team, palm feeling cold when his touch left it. “Look, there are two next to each other just above where Gi-hun has set his things down. We can bunk close together so you know you’re safe. I’m a light sleeper!’ His constant proactivity in making you feel safe and comfortable was warming your heart, but simultaneously causing a bout of nausea and anxiety that rose from your gut. One of you might die tomorrow in these twisted games. He would betray you in a heartbeat to keep himself alive, regardless of his sentiments. And despite that, you're already starting to trust him.

He was right though; he was a light sleeper. A few hours in and you hadn’t slept at all yet, fear clouding every corner of your mind, and the only thing soothing you was the soft purr of his snores. Eventually, you couldn’t help but sit upright, a quiet but frustrated sigh escaping your lips as your hands ran across your face and through your hair. His voice muttered your name, and you glanced over in shock to see him slowly sitting up in his bed, his tired eyes raking over you with concern.

“What’s wrong? Are you ok?” You pulled your legs to your chest, nodding at him before resting your head onto your knees.

“Can’t sleep.” You muttered as a sorry excuse of an explanation, but it seemed to convey what you really meant, his head cocked in worry.

“Can I help at all?” You opened your mouth to reply, to tell him that you'd be ok, but he continued before you had a chance. “Maybe you should try falling asleep before me. I’m going to be awake for a while now anyway, I can keep watch.” You were going to protest, to tell him to rest up and keep his energy for tomorrow, but honestly… it might help you. Just knowing he was keeping an eye out could get you a few hours of rest at least.

“…would that be ok?” You asked timidly, but he nodded with his now signature enthusiasm.

“Of course! I told you I’d protect you, I’m keeping my end of the bargain.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Please, just get comfortable.” Your body instinctively laid down as close to him as possible, only the bars between the bunks separating you, curling up on the small bed and settling in. You closed your eyes, exhausted beyond belief, but the moment you did, panic overtook you. It was irrational, sure, but before, when you couldn’t see him, you could hear him snoring so you knew he was still there. Now, it was dead silent. Your arm reached forwards instinctively, avoiding the metal posts to meet the soft fabric of his uniform, fingers latching on securely. You blushed at your own response to fear, grateful to the dark surrounding you, but as you felt him shuffle closer, allowing you a firmer grip, all of your nerves dissipated, your body finally giving in to exhaustion.

You woke to loud classical music and the intercom announcing that the next game will be starting shortly. You blinked your eyes open, groaning already at the aches forming in your body and the speed of your heartbeat at the thought of the horrors today might bring. But then, you felt a hand softly close around your forearm, giving a gentle squeeze of encouragement. You glanced down to see where your hand was still clasped around the edge of his T-shirt, the back of your fingers grazing the warm skin of his stomach, his own arm draped atop yours from where he lay on your side. You blushed furiously, untangling your arm from his and sitting up as casually as you could manage, rubbing the back of your neck in an attempt to hide your red cheeks.

“Hey…” he muttered sleepily, shifting to sit up too, and your body automatically turned to him, as though after just a few hours of knowing him, you were programmed to seek his voice out and follow it. “Remember what I said, ok? Stick by me today. If it’s Dalgona like Gi-hun said, pick triangle, and if not, we’ll work it out.” You couldn’t do much but nod, nerves and fear clouding your senses. You just focussed on putting one foot in front of the other, climbing out of bed and lining up with the rest of the players in the centre of the room. When the guards starting walking, you followed wordlessly until you reached the game room, the only thing keeping you from breaking down was the knowledge that Dae-ho was right behind you.

Gi-hun’s confused expression when you entered the room confirmed everything you needed to know - you wouldn’t be playing Dalgona today. However, Dae-ho’s optimism from the day before was well-placed, as the speakers announced that players should arrange themselves into teams of five. It was an easy pick. At some point during the night or morning, Gi-hun had reconciled with Player 001, and he honestly seemed like a solid addition to the team. He had physical skill - you’d seen that during the fight - and he had a seriousness about him that made you feel confident.

They announced the games, and your heart dropped. As the only girl on the team, you knew they’d ask you to play gonggi, and it just wasn’t something you’d played. As the inevitable question came, you shook your head in shame.

“I’m sorry, I never had anyone to teach it to me.” Your heart broke at the disappointment on your teammates faces.

“I can play gonggi.” Dae-ho piped up from beside you, and you breathed out in relief.

“An ex-marine playing gonggi?” You heard Jung-bae pipe up, and you couldn’t help but frown at his comment. You could immediately hear the pride drain from Dae-ho’s voice as he replied, and you glared at the older man, hoping to quietly convey your disappointment in him.

“I have four older sisters, so I played with them sometimes.” Jung-bae started to backtrack and encourage him, but you couldn’t help but think about why Dae-ho felt like he had to defend himself. It was such an endearing trait - a softer side that you valued and trusted in an ally - and yet he was explaining why it was ok to be good at a kid’s game. It made you feel sad for him. You interrupted Jung-bae’s forced sentiment slightly harshly.

“I’m good at flying stone. I used to bet the boys in my class that I could beat them and won every time.” Jung-bae looked as though he was going to say something, but Dae-ho spoke up first with a wide smile that calmed your nerves.

“Perfect! We’re lucky to have an expert with us. What about the rest of you?”

The rest of the team decided their roles quickly, Jung-bae sarcastically stating if he couldn’t play flying stone like he wanted, ddakji was his next best choice. You just shrugged. Gi-hun settled on jegi, and Player 001 seemed happy with what was left to him, so now, all you had to do was wait.

The first race was awful. It felt like a car crash you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from as the second player in their team missed in flying stone over and over and over again. Your team were discussing strategies based on how they were doing, how missing the stone eats up time as you have to fetch it, but you just felt a lump form in the back of your throat. If you failed this, all of you would die. The timer hit zero as he finally struck the stone, and you ripped your eyes away just in time, covering your ears and staring at the floor as the sound of gunshots ricocheted throughout the room. You eventually opened your eyes as the pink guards carried large gift boxes into the room that you could only assume were coffins for the dead, and turned to glance at Dae-ho in horror. He wasn't looking at his surroundings, practicing his part of the game with some small stones, but there was a noticeable shake in his hands that hadn’t been there before.

It was hours before it was your turn, and you were already exhausted before even playing. Watching everyone else, being so invested in each and every person’s survival, constantly thinking about how you could improve on their methods for their own attempt - it had taken its toll. And now, it was finally time for you to do it. You looped your arms around Jung-bae’s and Dae-ho’s, ankles already bound together, and he gave you one last smile of encouragement before you set off. You moved in accordance to Gi-hun’s shouts, reaching the ddakji station before you knew it. It only took two attempts and it flipped, the excitement of your group palpable as you continued to the next game. Your turn.

Your hands were shaking as you took the stone from the guard, almost so much that you dropped the damn thing. You tried to breathe deeply, to calm yourself down, but your mind wouldn’t stop returning to that first race, to the player who missed over and over…

Warm hands surrounded your own, snapping you out of your thoughts and grounding you. Dae-ho spoke, and you looked up at him, fear etched into your features.

“Breathe. Remember how you used to do it. You’re just on the playground winning a bet. Steady your hands, breathe, and throw.” You nodded along as he spoke, breaths returning to normal just long enough to compose yourself, crouching slightly. Like a skipping stone. As it left your hand, you cursed quietly. You were worried that it was too high, not quite the right angle, but by some miracle, it caught the top of the stone, toppling it just with the lightest touch. You could’ve cried as the Circle guard raised his hands above his head to mimic the shape on his mask, relieved that you wouldn’t be at fault if your team didn’t make it.

Dae-ho’s arm was like a vice as you made your way to the next game, his own nerves now evident. He gathered the gonggi in his hand, feeling the weight of them, and you and Player 001 leant slightly away from him to give him the space he needed. Jung-bae started to speak, throwing some generic words of encouragement his way, but you shushed him quickly. He’d told you earlier that he concentrated better when it was silent, so you intended to make sure that he had the conditions he needed. You watched as he let out a breath in preparation, then began, moving with speed and accuracy that left you in awe. As he held out his fist to the guard, and they approved, you couldn’t help but quickly wrap your arm around him, a short celebration before moving to the next section.

It took Player 001 a long time to complete the Spinning Top. You couldn’t help but flinch every time he failed, glancing up at the time in worry as he cursed himself out over and over. Gi-hun set him straight, calming him down quickly and reminding him of everything at risk, and he finally succeeded. The last portion of the race passed in a blur of seconds, Gi-hun quickly completing Jegi with the help of Player 001 before stumbling over the finish line, unexpected tears falling from your eyes in relief. You had actually made it, all of you had…

Gunshots rung out in the room, and you screamed, instinctively ducking down, your hands flying to your ears. It wasn’t until your heartbeat returned to normal and the guards started to unlock your ankle restraints that you realised Dae-ho had wrapped himself around you, one arm pulling your face into his chest, your head nestled tightly in his hand and folding the rest of himself around you. You tried to move, legs now free, but he wasn’t budging. You could feel his heart hammering against his chest, breaths shaky as they fanned against your neck. You pulled your hands from your ears, pressing them to his chest and gently easing him back to standing. That seemed to snap him back to reality a little, but he looked confused, still shaking.

“Hey, Dae-ho…” you muttered, and his eyes finally settled on you, looking like a deer caught in headlights, “it’s ok, they didn’t shoot us. We’re alive, we’re ok…” You could almost see the cogs turning in his mind as you said that, the confusion and fear slowly giving way to relief, breaths steadying as his eyes frantically scanned your body for signs of injury.

“We’re ok?” He whispered, and you nodded.

“We’re all good. Nobody got hurt. We did it.” He nodded, the gravity of what you said finally hitting him. He smiled, but his eyes still looked far away, like he wasn’t quite grounded yet. “Let’s go back to the dorms, yeah? Then vote to get the fuck out of here.” He just nodded again, and you led him from the room, following the rest of your team, who kept glancing back at him with a concerned expression.

By the time you got back to the main room, though, he was back to his usual enthusiastic self, excitedly discussing voting plans with the rest of your team, and encouraging everyone on their prowess in their individual games. Despite your victory, it seemed that you all wanted to leave, happy with the money as it was and wanting a fresh start outside of this hell. But as the voting commenced, it didn’t take long for the O side of the tally to tick up, and by the time you and Gi-hun got to vote - the last out of everybody - it didn’t matter. The circles had already won.

Dinner was a silent affair: Gi-hun, Player 001 and yourself eating quietly while Dae-ho kept guiltily glancing to where Jung-bae had extradited himself, his traitorous blue badge burning your eyes as though it was a bright neon sign. Eventually, he stood, pulling the older man almost by the scruff of his neck over to where the rest of you were and having a quiet, frustrated conversation with him. You sighed as Dae-ho dragged him to stand in front of you all, looking at you expectantly as Jung-bae just looked sheepish. You sighed. No point losing an ally over something you couldn’t change now.

“It’s not like you voting to leave would have changed a whole lot, we were outvoted by more than one person…” The subsequent onslaught of thanks almost made you want to take it back, but the joy and pride in Dae-ho’s face made it worth it.

While you pretty much knew each other’s names already, he decided this would be a good time for everyone to introduce themselves properly, starting with himself. He explainied that his name meant ‘big tiger’, and it made you giggle. It was fitting - a hard and brutal exterior when needed, but ultimately a softy beneath it all. You heard everyone else’s, finally learning that Player 001 was called Young-il, just like his number, but when it got to you, you had to explain that you weren’t sure what your name meant.

“We could always give it a meaning,” Gi-hun piped up, and you laughed.

“Like what?”

“Maybe… good at throwing.” You laughed again as his face crumpled in shame at his own attempt, the others chiming in to better him.

“Loud snorer!” Jung-bae exclaimed, earning an offended ‘hey’ thrown in his direction.

“Good teammate?” Young-il said, and Gi-hun scoffed.

“That one’s just lazy! What about pretty hair?”

“You don’t name someone after their hair!”

“Kind angel.” Dae-ho said proudly, and you honestly felt close to tears as everyone else stopped bickering to agree with him. You smiled thankfully as his eyes met your’s, laced with warmth and care. Maybe it would all be ok if you stayed a little longer.

"Ok, big tiger, kind angel it is."

“When we survive the next game and finally get to leave this place…” You had been talking for well over an hour now, and you had given up correcting his ‘when’ statements to ‘if’. His optimism was so sweet it hurt your teeth, but if it helped him cope with being in here, then they could rot for all you cared. “What do you want to do?”

“Well, I want to pay off my debt first…”

“Obviously.” He said with a laugh. “I mean fun stuff.” You smiled sadly, staring at your shoes.

“Honestly? I’ve been in survival mode for so long now I haven’t thought about fun stuff since I was young.” You paused a beat, glancing back up at him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bum you out.” He just shrugged.

“That’s ok, I know what you mean. But you should. Think of something fun, I mean. Might help you get through this.” You couldn’t fault his logic, but it took you a minute before you could remember anything.

“When I was a kid, I read about the Bahamas being a magical place where there were black and pink sand beaches, and that you could swim with pigs in the sea there… it sounded so peaceful and picturesque. I think I’d like to visit one day.”

“That sounds amazing…” he replied, wistfully looking at the ceiling. You were keeping watch together, your team peacefully sleeping under the beds behind you, and the silence their absence left seemed to be goading you to keep talking.

“We could go together. A few weeks, no stress, just sunbathing and swimming and…” It had slipped out before you could stop it, and you could feel the sentiment bouncing around the room, loud and weighty. There was a charged moment of silence, his eyes drifting from the ceiling to you, scanning your face for signs of insincerity. He wouldn’t find any.

“That would be perfect.” You smiled in relief, but it was short lived, both of you whipping your heads to the door frantically as you heard a knocking echo in the dark space. You found the source of the noise quickly though - Players 120 and 149 requesting to use the bathroom. You watched the scene play out quietly, smiling at the older woman’s dramatic display as they were finally let through by the guards, and the space fell into a stifling silence once again.

“What are you going to do when you get out of here?”

“We.” He corrected you quickly, and you blushed.

“Fine, when we get out of here.” He paused, fiddling with the collar of his jacket and pulling it up to cover the lower half of his face, fingers twirling the zip as he pulled his knees to his chest.

“I want to take you to see my hometown. My family still live there, and I know my sisters would love you. They could even teach you gonggi too, if you wanted.” A tear fell to your cheek, the tenderness of it all hitting you quickly. “Maybe buy a little place there and one in Seoul, so I can visit them as much as I want. Spend weekends by the water there. Not as exciting as the Bahamas, granted…” You rested your head on his shoulder, blinking back the tears and swallowing hard to clear the emotion from your voice. It didn’t work.

“That would be perfect.”

It scared you how much you trusted him so quickly. It hadn’t even been two days and you found yourself daydreaming of a future with him. A future where you didn’t have to do shit like this for money. A future where you both found good jobs, earning enough to keep you comfortable. A future where you could start over with the help of the money you earned here. A future worth living for. You’d always been sceptical, but maybe trauma bonding was a real thing after all.

“Dae-ho?” A sleepy voice behind you muttered, and you both turned to see Gi-hun shuffling out from beneath the one of the beds. You had all decided to make doubles when you were setting up earlier with the bunks that were already next to each other, sliding two mattresses together and having a buddy to make it safer, Jung-bae opting to sleep alone in shame. Young-il followed him out, yawning dramatically and rubbing his eyes. “You guys have been up for a long time, let us swap out for a while.”

“Are you sure?” You asked, but Young-il yawning had set you off, following suit even though you tried to suppress it. They just gave you that look dads use instead of saying ‘I told you so’. “Yeah, yeah, ok fair enough.”

Dae-ho shuffled in first, and you followed. It was cramped, sure, but there was just enough room for you to sleep on your side or turn over, so you didn’t feel claustrophobic. As you made your way in, you realised how dark it was, evidenced by the fact you only found where Dae-ho was when you bumped into him, your arm pressing into his. A few moments passed and you stayed like that, finding comfort in the warmth he provided you with, and the soft sound of his breathing. Then you felt it. One of his fingers delicately tracing a line up the back of your hand. Your breath hitched, then evened out as the patterns he drew soothed you, and you couldn’t stop your head from lulling towards him to rest on his shoulder once more. Wordlessly, he withdrew his arm from beside yours and slid it underneath your neck, his hand falling to your shoulder, gently pulling you closer without being forceful. You allowed him to move you however he wanted, following his guidance and twisting until you were on your side, letting your leg drape over his and your hand fall to his chest. Your head ended up nestled into his neck as his arm kept tightening around you, hand eventually resting on your waist. You settled further into him with a contented sigh, his other hand meeting yours and enveloping it, the warmth and comfort alongside the rise and fall of his chest almost sending you straight to sleep.

It was a few minutes before you heard him speak, and even then you couldn’t be sure it was real. You were so close to drifting off, and his voice was barely audible, lips ghosting across your scalp.

“Promise me…” he whispered, quiet and vulnerable, “that we’ll make it out of here?” He sounded so broken. You lifted your entwined hands to your lips, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles that you hoped conveyed reassurance before tucking your joined hands close to your body.

“I promise.” His own lips found themselves on your forehead, the lightness of the touch leaving your skin tingling and a content blush fanning across your cheeks. His hands squeezed yours tighter as exhaustion began to pull you under, and all you could think was how badly you’d fucked yourself over. That even if you somehow made it out of this place, if it was without him, it would feel worthless.

"Goodnight, kind angel."

-> part 2

#squid game #squid game season 2 #player 388 #dae ho x reader #kang dae ho #dae ho #squid game s2 #kang dae ho x reader #player 388 x reader #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #taylor swift #the tortured poets department #i hate it here

830 notes · View notes

fangdokja · 1 month ago

Text

He’s the hero in his own story… and you’re his latest toy.

❤︎ Synopsis. An unhinged author who controls every aspect of your life, weaving a dark narrative where you’re both the protagonist and his plaything—he writes your fate, but only if you endure his disturbing obsession. In his world, every chapter brings you closer to a horrifying end… unless you please him.

♡ Book. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Author x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanons. Fate’s Final Draft - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 5,218

♡ TW. dom + top + older + sadistic yandere, general non-con, possessiveness, psychological manipulation and conditioning, suggestive themes, fear play, emotional manipulation and abuse, hints at rough play and sex, psychological and emotional trauma, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances, threats, depression and mental illnesses, implied suicidal tendencies, unhealthy coping mechanisms

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr content guidelines involving mental illnesses, self-harm, and suicide, some plot details of the original story were purposefully made ambiguous to fit the platform.

♡ A/N. Wahaha, finally made this idea. It is possible for him to have his own Main Story; but I'm still thinking about it, since I have a lot of shiz to do haha. I was going to put the NSFW erotic horror part, but it was getting too long already.

♡ Yandere! Author who sees the world as his manuscript and everyone in it as characters for his narrative—mere pawns on a chessboard he rearranges at his whim.

♡ Yandere! Author who was once a literary prodigy, hailed as a genius storyteller for his grimdark tales that left readers breathless and disturbed. Critics marveled at his uncanny ability to craft despair, heartbreak, and suffering so vivid it felt alive. Little did they know he wasn’t just writing fiction—he was recreating his fantasies in the real world, puppeteering events to mirror the chaos in his mind.

♡ Yandere! Author who despised the monotony of real life. “People are so… boring,” he’d mutter, a sardonic smile tugging at his lips. No one suffered properly; no one’s struggles were beautiful. To him, the world lacked intrigue. Until you.

♡ Yandere! Author who plucked you from your dull, ordinary existence like a child selecting a toy from a shelf, more out of habit than interest. You weren’t special—just another pawn in his grand game, another character to throw into the chaotic maelstrom of his imagination.

♡ Yandere! Author who didn’t think much of you at first. Quiet, gloomy, meek. You lacked the charisma of a hero, the fire of a rebel, or even the arrogance of an antihero. Just another blank slate with nothing to offer but the predictable reactions of someone out of their depth. But that was fine. You weren’t meant to be interesting. You were meant to survive—or not. Either outcome was entertaining.

────────────

♡ Yandere! Author who dropped you into his latest world—a fantasy isekai brimming with magic, monsters, and a cruel leveling system that ensured nothing came easily. “Good luck,” he’d murmured to himself, watching as you stumbled into your new reality. He hadn’t even bothered to give you a cheat ability or a supportive companion. You were cannon fodder, a nobody. Your story wasn’t supposed to last long.

♡ Yandere! Author who delighted in throwing obstacles your way. A cursed weapon that drained your life force whenever you wielded it. A village that betrayed you the moment you turned your back. A party of adventurers who abandoned you at the first sign of danger. Every twist, every betrayal, every near-death encounter was a carefully crafted piece of his art.

♡ Yandere! Author who laughed aloud when you failed, tripping over your own feet in the face of danger, barely scraping by with nothing but luck and desperation.

“How pitiful,” he’d muse, scribbling notes in the margins of his book. “Not even a shred of resolve. I wonder how long you'll last.”

♡ Yandere! Author who couldn’t resist pushing you further. When you lingered too long in a safe zone, he unleashed a plague. When you finally caught a moment of peace, he summoned a beast that tore through the tranquility like paper. When you found a rare treasure, he made sure someone stronger, greedier, took it from you. Every time you thought you were one step closer to victory, he yanked the rug out from under you.

♡ Yandere! Author who barely even noticed the way you persisted. At first, it was amusing, in a “look at the bug crawling out of the trap” sort of way.

You didn’t fight back, not really. You just endured, trudging forward like someone too tired to give up. It wasn’t resilience. It wasn’t strength. It was nothing worth writing home about. Yet you survived longer than he’d expected. Longer than most.

♡ Yandere! Author who began to notice your patterns. The way you didn’t waste time trying to rally allies or plot revenge against those who wronged you. You just… kept going. Quiet, unassuming, almost boring in how you refused to break. No grand speeches, no tearful outbursts, no fiery declarations of vengeance. Just silence. And somehow, that silence started to irritate him.

♡ Yandere! Author who started to poke harder, his curiosity piqued despite himself. He sent you a companion who betrayed you the moment you grew attached. He trapped you in a dungeon with no clear way out, just to see how long you’d last without food or hope. He introduced a rival, someone far more capable, to crush any fleeting sense of progress. And still, you lived.

♡ Yandere! Author who began to grow frustrated, his usual detachment slipping.

“Why won’t you break?” he muttered, leaning over his desk as he watched you struggle through yet another of his impossible scenarios.

There was no satisfaction in your suffering, no drama, no spectacle. You were boring, predictable, and yet… infuriatingly tenacious.

♡ Yandere! Author who threw you into the final trial of that first world, expecting it to be your end. A labyrinth filled with traps, monsters, and puzzles designed to shatter even the strongest of wills. He made sure to stack the odds against you, laughing to himself as he imagined your inevitable demise. But you survived. Barely.

———

♡ Yandere! Author who then throws you into a modern, thriller-horror world—something grounded in frightening realism where paranoia seeps into every corner. It’s a city crawling with secrets, where every smile hides an ulterior motive and murder is just another piece of the puzzle.

♡ Yandere! Author who’s still irritated as he writes your entry into this new world. He hates being proven wrong, and the fact that you survived his last creation gnaws at him. But rules are rules. Killing you outright would be a betrayal of his art, and if there’s one thing he holds sacred, it’s his craft. He’s a creator, not a hack. If you’re going to die, it’ll be on his terms—poetic, meaningful, unforgettable.

♡ Yandere! Author who drops you into this nightmare with nothing but your wits. No powers, no special abilities, not even a single ally you can trust. You wake up in a city that feels alive in all the worst ways: too many eyes watching, too many whispers following you like ghosts. The air itself feels oppressive, and danger lurks just out of sight, waiting for you to make one wrong move.

♡ Yandere! Author who sets the stage with a murder investigation—a gruesome, chilling crime that sets the entire city on edge. He knows how to craft fear, how to make every detail unnervingly realistic. Bloodstains that seem too fresh, suspects who lie with smiles that don’t reach their eyes, evidence that vanishes the moment you think you’ve found it. He weaves the threads of the mystery so tightly that it’s impossible to tell who’s the predator and who’s the prey.

♡ Yandere! Author who watches from his perch as you stumble through this new world, his annoyance tempered by the thrill of the game. You’re cautious, hesitant, and still so painfully predictable to him.

He nudges you toward danger at every turn—a “helpful” stranger who knows too much, a missed phone call that could’ve saved you, a shadow lurking just behind the corner. He pushes and prods, waiting for the moment you’ll falter.

♡ Yandere! Author who doesn’t shy away from making it personal. He paints the world with your fears, digging into the recesses of your mind to pull out the things that make your skin crawl. A too-familiar face in a crowd. A voicemail from a loved one you don’t remember having. Rooms that look like places you’ve been but shouldn’t exist here. He loves psychological horror, the kind that eats away at your sanity, and you’re the perfect subject for his masterpiece.

♡ Yandere! Author who grows frustrated when you continue to endure, even as the world around you crumbles. You’re cautious to the point of paranoia, hesitant to trust anyone, and maddeningly silent in your suffering.

You’re playing his game, sure, but not the way he wants you to.

It’s not fun this way.

He craves the drama, the despair, the art of it all—and you, with your quiet determination, are robbing him of the spectacle.

♡ Yandere! Author who watches with growing intrigue as you adapt. You’re still boring to him—quiet, gloomy, unremarkable—but there’s something in the way you navigate his traps, how you outmaneuver his designs without even realizing it. It’s not notable skill or flashy brilliance; it’s a quiet kind of intellect. And for someone as obsessed with control as he is, your unpredictability is both infuriating and captivating.

♡ Yandere! Author who, despite his annoyance, can’t help but enjoy watching you squirm. You’re a puzzle he hasn’t solved yet, and that irritates him to no end. But he tells himself it’s fine. You’re just another character, another experiment. You’re not special.

♡ Yandere! Author who leans back in his chair, pen tapping against his lips as he watches you stumble through another one of his traps. “Let’s see how long you can last this time,” he murmurs, his irritation giving way to a slow, unsettling grin. “Don’t disappoint me, little protagonist. I’m just getting started.”

———

♡ Yandere! Author who creates one of his signature magnum opus—a grimdark epic drenched in despair, betrayal, and violence. This is his masterpiece, the pinnacle of his craft, and the perfect stage to break you once and for all. No hope, no redemption, no safety. In this world, survival is a cruel joke, and death is the only certainty.

♡ Yandere! Author who throws you into the chaos with nothing but the clothes on your back. A crumbling kingdom teetering on the brink of war, political intrigue so convoluted it devours its players whole, and monsters lurking in the shadows—both human and otherwise. He crafts the world so meticulously that even the air feels heavy with doom. There’s no escape, no mercy, no way out. Or so he thinks.

♡ Yandere! Author who raises an eyebrow the moment you start to deviate from his script. It’s subtle at first—minor choices that ripple outward in unexpected ways. A betrayal you sidestep, an alliance you form that shouldn’t exist, a carefully constructed chain of events you unravel with quiet precision.

At first, he thinks it’s luck.

Then, he thinks it’s coincidence.

But as the story spirals further from his design, he begins to realize: you’re rewriting the script.

♡ Yandere! Author who leans forward, fingers steepled, his irritation giving way to intrigue.

“Fascinating,” he murmurs, watching as you dismantle his carefully laid plans.

He’s seen this trope before—characters defying their roles, rewriting their fates. But those stories are sloppy, riddled with plot armor and deus ex machina. He hates those stories. He despises their stupidity, their lack of respect for the craft. Yet… this is different. You have no plot armor. You have no cheats, no guarantees. And somehow, you’re still alive.

♡ Yandere! Author who begins to test you, introducing new challenges designed to crush even the most determined spirit. He throws you into a city under siege, its streets filled with the screams of the dying. He pits you against a monster so horrific that it haunts your dreams. He manipulates the people around you, turning allies into enemies, twisting trust into betrayal. Yet no matter what he does, you adapt. You survive.

♡ Yandere! Author who finds himself muttering to the empty room as he watches you work.

“Clever,” he says when you outmaneuver a traitor.

“Bold,” when you risk everything for a gambit that shouldn’t have paid off.

“Stupid, reckless, but… brilliant.” He’s annoyed, yes—he hates being outplayed—but he’s also captivated.

You’re playing his game, but on your terms. And for the first time, he doesn’t know how it’s going to end.

♡ Yandere! Author who starts to see you in a new light. You’re not like the others. You don’t scream at the heavens, don’t declare war on the “unfairness” of the world. You don’t rely on luck or blind faith.

You’re calculating, deliberate, quietly defiant.

You’re everything he never expected you to be.

♡ Yandere! Author who feels a strange mix of pride and irritation when you survive his masterpiece. You’re battered, broken, barely breathing, but you’re alive. Against all odds, you’ve clawed your way through the carnage and emerged victorious.

It’s not the ending he planned, but it’s… satisfying, in its own way.

♡ Yandere! Author who chuckles softly, the sound low and dangerous.

“Well played,” he says, a crooked grin spreading across his face.

“But don’t think for a second this means you’ve won. You’ve caught my attention now, little protagonist. Let’s see how far you can go before you break.”

♡ Yandere! Author who realizes, with a thrill of anticipation, that the game has only just begun.

———

♡ Yandere! Author who introduces himself for the first time in this new world, a historical reverse harem trope with an undercurrent of political intrigue and dystopia, dressed up in a pretty, romantic facade.

You find yourself in a world that seems beautiful on the surface—lavish gowns, grand balls, charming men vying for your attention. But beneath the glittering exterior, it’s a world of betrayal, manipulation, and deadly power plays.

♡ Yandere! Author who enters the story with a calm smile, playing the role of an NPC "friend" meant to help you navigate this dangerous world.

He’s the type of character who exists solely to guide you, the wise adviser, always in the background but never quite the center of attention. His role is clear—he’s there to “help” you, to watch you fall in line with the game. But his eyes… they never stop watching you.

♡ Yandere! Author, playing the part of your “helper,” leans in close one day, his voice smooth, almost soothing.

“It’s dangerous here, you know. You can trust no one. Not even those who claim to love you.” His words drip with false tenderness, though the glint in his eyes betrays the sadistic pleasure he derives from the darkness surrounding you.

“But that’s why I’m here, isn’t it? To guide you… to protect you.”

♡ Yandere! Author, watching you, his smile never wavering, as you stand by him, as you consistently choose him over others in the court. His eyebrows arch in surprise, and for the first time in any world, there’s a genuine flicker of confusion behind his unshakable calm.

“Hmm,” he murmurs, voice almost a purr. “You’re still here. You haven’t run off to one of those princes, haven’t you?”

You look at him, unblinking, your gaze steady. “You’re the only one I can trust. The others are all just playing a game.”

♡ Yandere! Author, leaning closer, his voice low and a little mocking, with a smirk that barely hides his amusement and something more sinister.

“How quaint. You think I’m trustworthy?” He watches as you don’t flinch, his eyes narrowing. “I suppose that makes you… my little pet then, doesn’t it?”

Your expression never changes. “I’m just smart enough to stay close to the only one who can’t be manipulated in this world.”

———

♡ Yandere! Author, sensing a shift, a delicious challenge that he’s never faced before, lets out a small laugh—one that’s cold and filled with dangerous amusement.

“How interesting,” he muses, stepping closer, his hand brushing against your arm lightly. “So, you know who I am, then?”

You meet his gaze, unwavering. “You’re not even pretending anymore.”

He tilts his head, eyes glinting with a dangerous mix of amusement and irritation. “Ah. So I’m not the only one who understands the rules of this game, hmm? You’re quite clever, aren’t you? A pity, really. Most of the ‘protagonists’ I encounter are so… naive.”

♡ Yandere! Author, now utterly intrigued by your unwavering proximity to him, begins to shift his approach. The cold, detached adviser becomes a more charming, flirtatious presence. His words are laced with honeyed poison as he circles around you like a predator testing a new, unexpected prey.

“You know,” he says, voice soft and teasing, “you could be so much more than this. I’ve seen how they all adore you. How they all want you.” He leans in closer, his breath brushing your ear.

“But I think you’re starting to realize that none of them matter, don’t you?”

You blink, not reacting to the subtle pressure in his voice. “I don’t care about them. I care about you.”

♡ Yandere! Author, for the first time, pauses, a shiver of something unfamiliar running through him. His smile falters, but just for a moment.

Then it’s back, even more dangerous, like a cat toying with its prey. “Is that so? And why is that?”

“You’re the only one who’s honest,” you say simply. “And you’re the only one who isn’t pretending to be something you’re not.”

♡ Yandere! Author, amused yet unnerved, chuckles darkly, his voice oozing with a wicked charm.

“I see. You think I’m the only one who isn’t pretending, hm? Well, maybe there’s something about you that makes you interesting after all.”

He steps back slightly, his eyes scanning you with renewed interest. “But don’t mistake this for affection. I’m not the kind of man to simply hand over trust. I’m the one who deserves it. I’m the one who’s worth it.” He grins, a little too wide, a little too sharp.

“But let’s not rush things. We’ve got plenty of time to figure out how this plays out.”

He watches you carefully, taking in every moment of your steady gaze, the way you never flinch. His heart quickens, and he can’t tell if it’s frustration or fascination that drives him now. Whatever it is, it keeps him drawn to you, and that… that is something he’s never experienced before.

———

♡ Yandere! Author who doesn’t shy away from cruelty, doesn’t flinch at the thought of breaking you piece by piece, but for some reason, you never crumble. It’s maddening.

“You’re so boring,” he sneers, pinning you against the desk, his lips curling into a sadistic grin. “But you stick to me like glue. Why? What is it you’re waiting for? A happy ending? Newsflash, sweetheart—I don’t write those.”

You stare at him, unblinking, as his fingers trace the line of your jaw, deceptively gentle. “I don’t expect anything from you.”

He laughs, sharp and bitter, his other hand slamming down on the desk beside your head. “Oh, don’t give me that. Everyone wants something. Attention. Control. Fortune. Power. Love. What is it, huh? Tell me.” His thumb presses against your lips, his gaze dark and hungry.

“Or do I have to find out myself?”

♡ Yandere! Author, who toys with you in increasingly intimate ways, his touch lingering, his voice dipping into dangerous territory.

“Do you know what I could do to you?” he whispers one night, his fingers trailing down your arm, sending shivers through your skin.

“I could ruin you. Completely. No one would know, no one would care. You’d just be another name crossed out in my little book of stories.”

Your voice is steady, your gaze unwavering. “Then why don’t you?”

His grin sharpens, his fingers tightening around your wrist. “Because, my little enigma, I like puzzles. And you…” He leans closer, his breath ghosting over your ear.

“You’re a puzzle I haven’t solved yet.”

♡ Yandere! Author, who grows more physical, testing your limits, pushing you closer to the edge with every touch, every word.

“You know,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the curve of your neck, “most people would be begging me to stop by now. Crying, screaming, running for their lives. But you… you just stand there, letting me do whatever I want.” He chuckles, low and dangerous.

“It’s almost like you enjoy it.”

You don’t respond, and that only seems to amuse him further.

“Or maybe,” he continues, his hands sliding down to your waist, “you think you can handle me. That you can survive me.” He presses his lips to your shoulder, a cruel smirk playing on his face.

“Tell me, do you honestly believe that? That you’re strong enough to endure this?”

♡ Yandere! Author, who starts to lose himself in the game, his sadistic intrigue growing with every interaction.

“You’re driving me insane, you know that?” he says one night, his voice sharp with frustration.

“I could end this right now. Dig through that pretty little head of yours and find out exactly what makes you tick. But no. That would be too easy.” His fingers dig into your hips, his gaze burning into yours.

“And I don’t like easy.”

He leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a fleeting, almost tender kiss before pulling back with a wicked grin.

“But you’re making me curious, and that’s a very dangerous thing, my dear. Curiosity killed the cat, after all. And I’m not a cat, but I might just kill you.”

You tilt your head, meeting his gaze with an unnerving calm. “Then why don’t you?”

For a moment, he’s silent, his eyes narrowing as he studies you. Then, he laughs—a low, dark sound that sends chills down your spine. “Because you’re interesting. And I don’t destroy my toys until I’ve wrung every ounce of entertainment out of them.”

♡ Yandere! Author, who starts to blur the lines between his sadistic games and something deeper, something he doesn’t want to name.

“Do you feel that?” he whispers one night, his hands sliding up your sides, his touch both possessive and teasing.

“That tension, that heat? It’s intoxicating, isn’t it? But you’re so composed. So controlled.” He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear.

“It makes me want to rip you apart, just to see what’s underneath.”

You don’t flinch, your voice steady. “Do it, then.”

His grin widens, his eyes glinting with something dangerous. “Oh, no, my dear. Not yet. You don’t get to decide when this ends. That’s my privilege.”

♡ Yandere! Author, who starts to wonder if maybe, just maybe, you’re as twisted as he is.

“You’re not afraid of me,” he says one night, his hands framing your face as he forces you to look at him. “You should be. You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

“I know exactly what you’re capable of,” you reply, your voice calm.

His smirk falters for just a moment before returning, sharper than ever. “Fascinating,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your lips.

“You might just be my favorite experiment yet.”

———

♡ Yandere! Author who’s always prided himself on his control, his detachment. You’re just another piece on his board, another thread in his masterpiece. But this—this strange, gnawing feeling in his chest—it’s utterly foreign, and he hates it.

“Hmm,” he hums, leaning back in his chair, watching you tend to yet another hapless NPC, your hands gentle, your words soft. “So this is what you’ve chosen to do with your time. Interesting choice.”

You glance at him briefly before returning your attention to the injured character. “Someone has to help them.”

His grin is sharp, dangerous. “Oh, do they? What’s the point? They’ll be dead in a few chapters anyway. Why waste your energy?”

You don’t answer, your focus unwavering as you wrap a bandage around the NPC’s arm.

♡ Yandere! Author clicks his tongue, the annoyance creeping into his voice. “You know, you’re starting to develop a bad habit. Always playing savior, always looking after others. It’s almost… predictable.”

You finally look up, your expression as calm as ever. “Maybe. But it’s what I want to do.”

His grin falters for just a fraction of a second, and something dark flickers in his eyes.

♡ Yandere! Author, who watches you interact with the love interests he’s meticulously placed around you, his jaw tightening as you laugh at one of their jokes.

“Oh, now this is rich,” he says, his voice dripping with mockery as he suddenly appears at your side. “Tell me, which one of them do you think will betray you first? The charming one with the tragic backstory? Or the brooding one who can’t decide whether he wants to kiss you or kill you?”

You sigh, clearly unimpressed. “Do you always have to narrate everything?”

He leans closer, his breath ghosting over your ear. “Always. It’s my story, after all.”

You step away, your attention shifting back to the love interests, and something snaps in him.

♡ Yandere! Author, who’s never felt this burning irritation before, this inexplicable urge to tear those carefully crafted characters apart limb by limb.

“You’re awfully invested in them, aren’t you?” he says, his tone deceptively light as he circles around you like a predator. “Do you actually think any of them are worth your time? They’re just puppets, you know. Hollow. Empty. Nothing like me.”

Your gaze meets his, steady and unflinching. “I know what they are. But at least they’re not trying to destroy me every second of the day.”

♡ Yandere! Author laughs, loud and sharp, the sound echoing in the empty room. “Destroy you? Destroy you? Oh, sweetheart, if I wanted to destroy you, you’d be gone already.”

His smile twists into something cruel. “No, I’m just… refining you. Shaping you into something better. Stronger. You should be thanking me.”

You don’t respond, and that silence claws at him, burrowing under his skin like a splinter.

———

♡ Yandere! Author, whose madness always simmers beneath a mask of cunning smiles and calculated control, finally unravels. But it’s not chaos. No shouting, no frenzy.

It’s quiet. It’s deadly.

It’s the kind of madness that burns cold and precise, carving through the air like a scalpel.

"You’ve been so patient," he says, his voice soft, almost tender, as if he’s consoling you. His head tilts, studying you like a puzzle he’s finally solved.

"And here I thought you were just stubborn. Turns out, you’ve been waiting for me to slip, haven’t you? Waiting for me to break my precious little rules."

You remain silent, but his sharp grin stretches wider, something twisted flickering in his gaze.

"Oh, I see it now," he continues, leaning in, his breath brushing against your ear.

"You’ve wanted it all along, haven’t you? That quiet little release. That final curtain call." He clicks his tongue, amusement dripping from his voice.

"Tsk, tsk. How boringly predictable."

♡ Yandere! Author, who crouches in front of you, forcing you to meet his gaze. There’s no warmth in his eyes, only a brutal, cutting clarity as he speaks.

"But I don’t care what you want," he says, his grin hardening into something more dangerous. "No, I never have. This story? You? It’s never been about you. It’s about me. What I want."

His fingers trail up to your chin, gripping it with enough force to keep you still. "And do you know what I want?" he whispers, his voice dropping to a near-silent murmur.

You shake your head—or perhaps you don’t. It doesn’t matter. He answers anyway.

"I want to keep you alive. Forever. I want to see that flicker of defiance in your eyes snuffed out again and again, only to light it back up myself." He leans closer, his lips ghosting over yours in a cruel mockery of affection.

"I want to watch you crawl through my worlds, bleeding and desperate, and still unable to die."

♡ Yandere! Author who laughs, low and cruel, as he pulls back, dragging a hand through his hair.

"Death is too kind, don’t you think?" he muses, pacing in front of you like a predator toying with its prey.

"It’s a full stop. The end of the story. How... uncreative. And I am anything but uncreative."

He pauses, turning to face you fully, his grin sharp enough to cut.

"No, my dear," he says, crouching again to meet your gaze. "You’ll live. You’ll suffer. You’ll endure every twisted scenario I can dream up. And you’ll do it for me. Because I’ll make sure you can’t do anything else."

♡ Yandere! Author, whose hands frame your face, his touch paradoxically gentle despite the venom in his words.

"You think you can escape this?" he murmurs, his tone soft, almost coaxing. "Escape me? I’m the one who writes your story, sweetheart. And I’ve decided that you don’t get an ending. Not now. Not ever."

You blink up at him, expression unreadable, and he laughs, the sound echoing through the room like the toll of a bell.

"You’ll always belong to me," he continues, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as if he’s memorizing the curve of your face.

"Not even death can take you away from me. I’ll drag you back from the abyss if I have to. Over and over again."

♡ Yandere! Author, who straightens, his grin softening into something almost wistful.

"It’s funny," he says, more to himself than to you. "You’ve always been such a dull little thing. Gloomy, quiet, boring. But now?" He chuckles, shaking his head.

"Now you’re fascinating. A toy I never want to put down."

♡ Yandere! Author turns his back to you, hands tucked into his pockets, his voice carrying as he walks away.

"So go ahead," he calls over his shoulder, his tone deceptively light. "Keep sticking by me. Keep hoping I’ll slip. Because the more you push, the more I’ll pull. And I’ll make sure you never get what you want."

He glances back at you, his grin razor-sharp, his eyes glinting with something dark and terrible.

"After all," he says, his voice a soft purr, "what kind of artist would I be if I let my masterpiece end?"

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Whispers In The Dark”: @keisocool , @elvabeth , @elloredef , @mjsjshhd

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. 🔞Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

665 notes · View notes

animeyanderelover · 9 months ago

Text

I've just recently finally gathered the courage to buy a horror manga from Junji Ito and I've gone for Tomie and now that I've actually started reading it, I just can't stop thinking about having a female s/o based on a similar concept. Someone who has the uncanny ability to make people obsessed with her if they spend enough time with her and who always regenerates no matter how cruel her deaths are by the hands of very same people who fell victims to her strange powers and claimed to adore her.

After years of enduring death and obsession in an never-ending cycle again and again, I can only imagine how jaded and morbid reader would be with everything. She has fully embraced her cursed existence at this point because there is literally nothing she can do about it so at this point she has turned it all into a game. Every time someone else falls for her, she's basically playing the 'what Yandere type are you going to be?' in her head as she has seen it all. She has seen the possessive, the obsessive, the delusional, the overprotective, the clingy, the submissive and dominant, the worshippers and the sadists.

Reader can only sit back and watch with a mixture of pity and amusement in her heart as her newest victim is molded into another obsessive freak that she will live with and indulge their every whim for as long until they snap and she will die yet another death at the hands of her supposed lover.

There are a few worlds where I think such a reader would be especially interesting to let loose (by the way, there are spoilers for Chainsaw Man if you are an anime only):

In Hunter x Hunter I have two headcannons for a Tomie reader. Either she has a Nen ability. Considering that her mere presence would twist and change everyone's emotions as well as considering her regeneration abilities and other things she can do with her body, she'd either be in possession of two nen types which would be Transmutation and Manipulation or she would be a Specialist

The headcannon I consider to be far more intriguing though would be if reader would be a humanoid creature who originated from the Dark Continent but somehow found her way to the Known World. Imagine the Hunter Association or the Known World Government finding out about your existence and hiring skilled Hunters and assassins to track you down and murder you before your abilities could cause any panic.

Imagine Chrollo and the Phantom Troupe catching wind of the situation that is currently being hidden from public. Chrollo, who would be instantly intrigued to track you down and see for himself what a creature from the Dark Continent is capable of and who would keep you as his most priced treasure the moment the troupe has finally found you after searching for you for a long time. Who has to share with the rest of the Phantom Troupe as your mere presence eventually gets to them too, to some sooner than to others and who notices your mild surprise that they actually work together insted of slaughtering each other, something you must be used to seeing. Chrollo, who shares with you experiences in the Known World and adores listening to your stories about the Dark Continent where you were born.

To make it even more interesting, let's assume that you are caught and kept around the time Hisoka has infiltrated the Troupe. Hisoka, the only member Chrollo doesn't trust to leave you alone and neither do any of the other members. There are usually at least two other spiders with you when Hisoka is around but the clown takes it with slightly infuriated amusement as he gives brief glances in your direction, patiently waiting for the day where he can keep you for himself. He has to give it to Chrollo after all, the man knew just how special you'd be when he decided to go after you. He can't wait to steal you away right under the nose of the criminal~

Another possible scenario would be that the Zoldyck Family is hired to hunt you down and capture you as they were informed that you are akin to an immortal being. Imagine Illumi spending months tracking you down and successfully capturing you, though that is only because you do not resist when he finds you, only to never hand you over to the government. Instead he keeps you, black eyes staring fascinated at you whenever he sees you, his cold skin tingling whenever he touches yours, his chest clenching with a sensation he can't quite grasp. He only knows one thing though. That he needs more of whatever it is he feels when he sees you and touches you.

I've already explored this world with a Tomie reader before in this post but Jujutsu Kaisen would literally be perfect because reader could literally be the enbodiment of the curse of obsession which could be used to explain her immortality. No matter how many times she is killed or even exorcised, she will be reborn for as long as people obsess over someone else, no matter how superficial or deep their feelings really are.

Suguru would be an interesting choice that I didn't talk about in the Hc's I linked since he uses Cursed Spirit Manipulation to control curses. The question would be though whether or not Suguru would be able to exorcise and consume you to enable him to gain control over you and summon you at any given time he wishes. Ironically enough a relationship with you in a scenario where you would be a curse would probably be better for you than if you were human since Suguru doesn't look down on you nor would he judge you for your nature as it is the negative emotions of humans from which you were created. You have shared with him some stories of the past where you were murdered from non-sorcerers when they lost control due to your powers and it only fawns his hatred against the monkeys. There are always sweet promises whispered into your ears that he'll never hurt you like they did and you can only wait half-interested whether or not he will remain true to those words.

We could also go way back in time to the Heian Era and simply crown you as the Queen of Curses who stood by Sukuna's side as obsession over someone else is as ancient as the concept of love in all its twisted and radiant forms itself. For a curse to be so strong that it can even influence other curses would stir Sukuna's interest, though he never expected to fall under your spell himself. He is somewhat displeased that his resistance is that weak as he has had multiple women warming his bed before he consumed them and enjoyed their flesh yet he knows that you are a being that will be reborn even if he kills you. Now that you have done it and seduced him though, he'd much rather have you pay the price for it. From now on you shall be his queen. When he is sealed away, you go into hiding. You feel no deep grief in the centuries that follow, though Sukuna has certainly been more memorable than the thousands of other people that follow him, one as bland as pathetic as the next one. It isn't until the 21st century that Sukuna is finally reincarnated into Yuji's body, thrilled and excited about this chance to finally live again. Now he only needs to find his Queen again...

As someone who just recently finished Chainsaw Man, in this universe the reader could just be a devil who has the form of a young woman. You'd probably also assume the role of the Obsession Devil in that scenario and whilst you could just be a wild devil, I think it'd be much more interesting if you actually work sort of together with the Devil Hunters without being locked away like some other devils are. It's rather rare for you to make contracts yourself even if multiple Devil Hunters have willingly offered limbs, senses and much more to you to form a contract with you as you only accept a contract if you are actually interested in a Devil Hunter. Instead you find yourself often negotiating with other devils to convince them to form contracts with Devil Hunters as your influence to make people infatuated with you even affects other devils.

Extreme femme fatale vibes and interesting scenario would be if it is Makima aka the Control Devil herself who is no exception to your abilities. What would make this so unique would simply be that Makima is, just like her devil suggests, someone who represents the fear of conquest and is a woman who is always in control, no matter the situation. That would so very much contrasts with the fear you represent since an obsession is rarely something that can be controlled and both of you are aware of her feelings she harbors for you. You have little capacity to care about people around you as years of living through the same events again and again have made you jaded towards the very idea of attachment and love but perhaps it is the uniqueness of the situation that perks your interest as she can tell that you are testing the waters with her. Are you willing to play the game with her? You should be prepared for the possible consequences if your answer is yes.

Kishibe is one of the few people who you have ever approached and asked for a contract as he caught your eye when he first joined and decades later he takes pride in the fact that he is the one you have held a contract with for the longest time. Your condition for a contract have always remained the same. The moment the Devil Hunter you were contracted to would stop being interesting to you, you wanted his heart and until that point, you would assist them whenever they desired your help. Some sane people would consider those conditions as nothing short of lunatic yet a Devil Hunter rarely survives if they do not belong to the crazy kind and the first time you approached him, he could already tell why you were as desired as you were by many Devil Hunters. Kishibe has survived for as long as he did precisely because he is a madman and that is why your interest in him hasn't faded to this day. You fulfill his every wish in this contract yet he has held himself back in comparison to some of your previous Devil Hunters, though some things are always the same. Like the few other Devil Hunters who had a contract with you, he proposed to you and it isn't the first wedding you went through yet it is the first time you have let a contract last as long to the point where both of you already had a silver wedding to celebrate 25 years of marriage. You're going to miss this one the most when his time comes...

In One Piece a reader with such mysterious abilities could of course be suspected of having eaten a Devil Fruit but I personally would like you to instead be an ancient being that, according to rumors, originated from somewhere in the New World, though nothing about you has ever been revealed. Throughout history, you have only gotten yourself involved a few times yet whenever you did, you were the demise of entire nations yet the full extent of your powers remains as shrouded in darkness as the rest of you. Only the highest-ranked people in the Marine and are even aware of your existence and the World Government has been after you ever since they were established. Not only are your powers frightening but it is also the knowledge that you hold that has made you the most dangerous being in the Grand Line.

You have watched history unfold in front of your eyes, know about the Ancient Weapons and other events that occured throughout time that no one is supposed to know, know even about the darkest secrets of the Navy and know exactly where the proof for their hidden atrocities lies that would ruin their reputation. Whilst the citizens on every island do not know of your existence, in the Grand Line exist tales of you that parents commonly tell children as bedtime stories where you are usually portrayed as a monster. You know of that but you do not care as an existence as long as yours has taught you best that you are not even remotely a human, though your appearance may fool others into thinking otherwise.

I'm not quite sure yet about individual characters in One Piece yet but since I just recently finished the Marineford Arc, I can't help but imagine that after essentially centuries of laying dormant and only being a silent watcher, you finally decide to take an active role when news of Fire Fist Ace's public execution reaches you. Your eyes and ears are everywhere, you always know what is happening in all different oceans after all, no matter how much the Navy may try to hide it from the rest of the world. Though the news of the execution are not kept as a secret this time and reach ears on every island throughout all of the seas. There are no heroic motives though as you make your way. You're just simply bored and decide that messing with the Marine, the pirates and all the people who will watch it all unfold might be amusing and provide some thrill, even if only temporary. The world is certainly going to shake when they find out that the monster from the fairy tale has always been there yet those who will be exposed to your aura on that day will probably go out of their way to chase you down, pushed by their ever-growing obsession. You do not mind. It has been way too long since you've been entertained by them after all. You're just hoping that at least a few of them will prove to be more than yet another waste of your time...

2K notes · View notes

phntxm · 3 months ago

Text

Love Languages hcs n/sfw

} real world, the nsfw part is VERY short y-y characters; mr. gap & mr. scarletella

My beloved aka Mr. Gap

he’s annoying and cute (canon)

likes to surprise you but acts nonchalant about it

no worries about danger in an alley—he always keeps an eye on you, and no one would dare touch you (he scares them away first)

the dev said it’d be funny to make players say something like, "what do you mean you’re kind when you’ve caused so many game overs?" when he helps you and calls himself good/kind.

yeah, he’s silly like that (luv him)

his love languages are gift-giving, quality time, and physical touch

gift-giving: as much as he loves receiving things from you, he loves giving things to you too

quality time: he can appear anywhere, anytime. sometimes, he’ll only spend a short time with you before leaving to prank someone, but at the end of the day, he’ll always come back to you—often in surprising ways (like appearing under your bed or blanket)

physical touch: the moment he reached his arms out to hug the mc, I was screaming—he’s so cute! I thought he’d be the type to dislike being touched, but he reached out first, so yeah

Mr. Scarletella

most of the main characters are born as ghosts, and since they’re born from people’s beliefs (similar to Rise of the Guardians), if people don’t believe in them, they can’t be seen

at first, I headcanoned him as asexual since he’s more of a phenomenon than a person, but this is a romantic horror game, so...

he learns about love by watching human lovers, but he’s still bad at it, and his love is twisted, so his actions aren’t exactly normal

in Japan, it’s common for guys to be shy and for girls to confess their feelings first

the scene where he says "me like you" follows a moment where we give him a gift and he says, "you like me" this can be interpreted as us confessing love to him first

the word "together" (一緒に), if I’m not wrong, can imply romantic feelings. Saying you’re going to do something together can lead someone to think you have feelings for them

physical touch: he imitates what he thinks humans consider romantic—holding hands, staying close to each other, etc.

words of affirmation: honestly, the only thing you’d probably need to say to him is to tell him to stfu already

acts of service & gift-giving: he lures someone with his illusions to lead them to his territory, just so you can hunt them down. he also helps you cover the evidence if needed and offers human prey as a gift for you

quality time: bros been spending his time stalking you since the very beginning

nsfw;

Mr. Gap

dacryphilia

if you being stressed and cry, he'd be worries, but on the bed is other thingggg broo

TEASES A LOT

like both verbally and physically with your body

orgasm denial, he enjoys keeping you on edge

likes to appear at the edge of your bed at night, crawling from your toes up to your body

appear under your blanket to fingering u

bro MIGHT just be really good at fingering

Mr. Scarletella

somnophilia

I think mr. crawling would be into this too but the different is, mr.crawling he lets you know and ensures you both consent, on other hand, mr. scarletella just does it cuz he wants

role play master-servant but he's the servant

into spanking and bl00d play too but he's M not S

#homicipher x mc #homicipher #homicipher x reader #mr scarletella #homicipher memes #homicipher mc #homicipher scarletella #mr. gap #mr. crawling #homicipher mr crawling #homicipher mr. gap #mr scarletta #mr scarletella x mc #mr scarletella x reader #mr scarletella x you #mr gap x reader #mr gap x you #homicipher mr scarletella

779 notes · View notes

devotedfem · 4 months ago

Text

«Scream»

Synopsis: It's late and you're watching horror movies. But someone's calling you, a weirdo asking you questions about classic horror films. Nothing was wrong until he started to threat you, and when you hang up the phone you realized there's murderers wearing ghostface masks in your house.

Maknae line (poly) x f. Reader

2.7K words.

Genre: Scream au | yander-ish.

Tags: psycopaths maknae line, mind games, psychological terror, murderers (implied but not described), betrayal, the maknae line are a menace here, emotional conflict, delusional maknae line, angry reader, very VERY dubious consent (coercion is not consent so read with caution), happy ending for them not for reader, smut, overstimulation.

A/N: I'm so sorry for disappearing for literally a month, i moved to another country and life has been very stressful lately, so yeah i took a break from writing but here i am again, writing lots of vminkook p0rn. Hope you enjoy!

From the series masterlist; Final girl.

Navigation Masterlist.

You’re eating popcorn, resting on your couch with your feet up on the armchair. You took a gulp of your coke can without breaking your gaze from the tv screen, you startled staining your shirt when the slasher appeared from nowhere, you cursed under your breath taking off your shirt but before you can go to your room to change, your phone vibrated with notifications. You turned them off because the boys always get annoying on the weekends.

You opened the group chat, rolling your eyes when you see the 123 unread messages.

Group chat: Y/n and the homos.

Jiminie: Guys can u please stfu for a moment, I wanna sleep but u don’t stop talking shit.

You: let’s kicked them out of the group Jiminie, I swear I can’t even watch a movie in peace.

Jjk: u two r so fcking boring.

Tae: right? Like can u two at least read what were talking abt.

You: we’re*

Jiminie: lol

Jjk: Guys this is serious, there’s a sicko killing people wearing a ghostface mask.

You: Ghostface masks are hot.

Tae: ??

Jjk: ???????

Jiminie: ik right

You: Anyway, maybe is just a rookie killer without imagination, like it’s Halloween and there’s a lot of sickos around here. Just closed ur doors and don’t be a pussy.

Tae: I’m literally speechless.

Jiminie: Bye I’m sleeping, stfu.

Jjk: we warned u.

You dropped your phone on the couch, walking to your kitchen to make more popcorn. You missed the plot twist of the movie because of your friend’s annoying group chat.

You were on your bra and pajama pants, not caring about anything in the world. Until your home phone rings in your kitchen making you stop immediately. You frowned tilting your head to the side, watching the old home phone still ringing. It’s being ages since someone called to that number, you didn’t even know that the ancient thing was still working.

“Odd,” you murmured to yourself, answering the phone.

“Hello?”

You heard a heavy breath on the other side of the phone. The person says nothing back, making you frown.

“Who’s this? And why are you calling to this number?” Your patience was running thin ice.

“I’m watching you,” said a man with a low voice.

You rolled your eyes with annoyance.

“Is this a prank? Don’t call to this number again or I’ll fuck you up.”

You were about to hang up the phone but a deep chuckle from the man stopped you. Why does he sound familiar to you?

“Are you watching Friday the 13th?” He taunted. His voice sounded odd, like if he was lowering it purposely.

Your stomach sink with dread, your heart rate speed up when you heard from the tv the slasher killing people.

“What if I do?” You gritted between teeth, keeping an eye on your surroundings. You won’t show fear to that weirdo.

“Let’s play a game, I’ll ask you some questions about horror movies. And if you answer wrong, I’ll kill you.”

Your eyes widened by his words, you were about to hang up and call the police but the other man was quicker than you.

“If you hang up or try to touch your fucking phone I’ll slice your neck,” the threat made you freeze on your place, the wire of the home phone wouldn't let you move far away anyway.

You felt your eyes sting up with tears by fear. You remember Jungkook and Taehyung warning.

Your breath turned shallow and your grip on the home phone started to tremble. You felt cornered and scared.

“What’s the identity of the masked killer of Scream?”

You inhaled deep, this one was easy.

“Uhm, his name was Billy, Sidney’s boyfriend.”

Your eyes roamed your kitchen, watching your surroundings again with dread and fear.

“Good.”

You couldn’t help but frown again because he sounded so familiar to you, but you can’t pinpoint of whom that voice belongs to.

“Last one; what’s the plot twist of Friday the 13th?”

Fucking fucker.

This time your eyes blurred by unshed tears because of how nervous and panicked you felt. You’ve never been good at dealing with strong emotions, even when you try to act tough, in your insides you’re very easy to scare and intimidate.

“I- please i-I don’t know,” you stuttered with quivering lips, you feel like having a panic attack.

“Look behind you, sweetheart.”

Your breath hitched sharply, you turned your neck to look behind you, widening your eyes and screaming at the top of your lungs when you saw a man in your kitchen, wearing a ghostface mask and waving his unoccupied hand at you.

And then you run.

And he did it too.

You grabbed your phone from the couch, noticing with horror how the SIM card was missing. But you didn’t have time to linger about that thought.

You listened to his steps chasing you from behind, making you run faster by the increase of adrenaline pumping your veins.

You tried to open the front door of your house, but it didn’t budge. You were home alone, your parents went out in a trip.

You were fucked up.

Without any more options, you climbed the staircases hiding in a bathroom.

You try texting your parents but it was past midnight and your phone didn’t have its sim card, so you can’t call neither text.

That’s why you opened the app where you and your friends have the group chat.

Group chat: Y/n and the homos.

You: CALL THE POLICE THERE’S SOMEONE IN MY HOUSE AND THEYTOOKMYSIM CARD

Jjk: y/n? what the fuck, that’s not funny.

You: PLEASE IM NOT JOKING AND I CANTK CALLM THEPLICE

Tae: are you being serious right know?

Jiminnie: you guys again?

Jjk: Y/n’s saying there’s someone in her house but she can’t call the police but she can chat with us lol.

You: GUYS PLEASEIMSERIUS PLEASE HES COMING I NEED YOUR HELP CALL THE POLICE!!!!!!!!!!!

Tae: dude writing in capitals won’t make your prank more credible

You screamed into your hand with frustration, pulling your hairs out and weeping with fear, you wanted to smash your head against the tiles by exasperation. They weren’t taking you seriously.

Then you half open the door quietly, watching the murderer roaming the hallway. When he turned his back to you, distracted on his phone, you took yours to snap a picture of him.

Group chat: Y/n and the homos.

You: *send picture*

You: THIS IS HIM HES INMYHOUSE

Jjk: what the fuck

You: JUNGKOOK IM HAVINGAPANICK ATTACK CALL THE FUCKING POLICE OR ILL KILL YOU MYSELF

Tae: Damn no need to be so harsh y/n, calm down.

You: CALL THE POLICE YOU MORONS

Jiminnie: u guys r so annoying

You: jiminniehelp me please please please im scared imnot lying

Jjk: y/n you’re making me worry, aren’t you fucking with us?

You: NOO!!!!!!!!

Tae: oh well, then we should do something abt it

You: OFC U IDIOT

Jjk: yeah ur right tae, what we should do?

You: CALLTHEPOLICE?????!!!!!!!!

Tae: u think so?

Jjk: mm not so sure

Tae: and u Jiminnie, what do u think?

You: guys whats happening, please im scared

Jiminnie: I think I’ll go and help my y/n.

You frowned with trembling hands, tasting the saltiness of your silent tears. You were about to throw up and insult them again but the bathroom’s door opening made you jump with fear.

“Here you are.”

In any other circumstance you would scream and run for your life, you would grab something from the bathroom to throw it at him and save your life. But none of that happened, you stayed in your spot freeze, maybe because you were having a panic attack, but even then your primal instincts should fuel you to run. But that wasn’t the reason of your frozen state. Not at all. It was the fact that you recognized that voice.

“You… are you…”

Then the murderer took off his ghostface mask, tilting his head to the side and making your heart shatter.

“Yes my y/n?”

Jimin, fucking Park Jimin.

The deep fear was replaced by ugly hurt and anger. You saw red, walking towards him with your fists clenched, you punched him on his shoulder but he didn’t budge.

“How dare you scared me like that! You think is funny?! I hate you so much, I don’t want to see your fucking face ever again. GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, with angry tears streaming to your chin.

“You thought I was joking?” he asked with mirth, the dark glint in his eyes turned your stomach with dread.

“Just get out Jimin,” you said tired and hurt.

“Y/n, I’m here to kill you-”

And just by that your fear came back twice as hard, your ears buzzed clogging up Jimin’s next words.

You ignored your throat lump of hurt and betrayal, you felt numb while running away from him, hiding in one of the bottom’s cabinets of your kitchen.

You wrapped your arms around your legs, pulling your knees to your chest. You cried until you felt your eyes swelling.

“Y/n? Baby where are you?”

Your eyes widened at Taehyung’s sweet voice calling for you.

You didn’t think twice before opening the cabinet and throwing yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Taehyung chuckled hugging you back as hard, stroking your hair while you’re crying on his neck.

“There there, nothing bad will happen to you.”

The shinning knife in Taehyung’s other hand knocked some sense into you. The realization of your reality hit you hard making you gasp and break the hug in a flash, you watched him with your jaw set and your eyes showing the deep hurt and betrayal you felt inside.

Taehyung foxy smile widened on his lips, he pouted when you took a step back from him.

“I won’t hurt you, I promise,” he said softly, biting his bottom lip to stop a smirk.

You let him come closer to you just a step, and then you blow his head with a pan making him whimper with pain. You used his moment of confusion to run away past him.

You opened a window to get out of your house, your ears were buzzing by the raw adrenaline pumping your veins like liquid fire.

You were so, so close to reach your car until you’re not. The next thing you know is that you’re falling face down on the floor by a body launching at your back. You groaned with pain, feeling the body pinning you to the ground by its weight.

“Caught you,” Jungkook’s voice taunted against your ear, sounding out of breath.

You screamed at the top of your lungs, making Jungkook cursed under his breath. He covered your mouth quickly, lifting your body to take you inside the house again.

Your eyes were too swollen by the amount of tears you shed tonight, you were tired and hurt by their sick game.

Jungkook sat on your couch with you on his lap, one arm wrapped around your naked waist to pull you against his chest.

“Isn’t she so cute?” asked Jimin sighing dreamily, you felt acid rage running your veins. You felt like being mocked on.

“A little feisty, but pretty.” Taehyung sat beside you on the couch, his forehead dripping a little bit of blood. You smiled wide at his wound.

“Did it hurt?” You pointed to his forehead, he simply nodded with the corner of his lips curling down.

“Good,” you grinned with hatred.

“Now now, no need to be mean to our Taetae.” Jimin squatted before you, stroking your cheek even when you flinched your face away with disgust.

“No need to be fucking weirdos either, if you want to kill me do it already.” And then you literally spat on Jimin’s face, but to your horror and disgust he grinned wide tasting your drool with his tongue.

You wanted to throw up at the nasty sight.

“Sweetheart, we don’t want to hurt you, even less kill you,” chuckled lowly Jungkook behind you, his grip on your waist tightened a little.

“What? But Jimin said-“

“I didn't say anything, silly. You didn't even let me finish before running away,” Jimin sighed standing up, getting out of the living room and leaving you there feeling totally lost.

“Then… why are you guys doing this?” You whispered weakly, feeling way more unease than before.

“You’ll see.” Whispered back Taehyung near your ear, chuckling when you flinched.

And you did see it.

Jimin dragged your parent’s tied bodies to the floor of the living room, making your stomach sink with horror and dread.

“We came here to kill them.” Grinned proudly Jimin, kicking your dad’s side when he tried to wiggle out of his ties.

“Why!? Leave them alone they did nothing wrong!” You shouted at the top of your lungs, so loud that your throat hurt.

Jimin’s face morphed into an enraged scowl. He walked towards you in two large steps, gripping your chin up roughly. His jaw was set and his gaze hard.

“Shut up, before I cut your tongue.” He hissed with fury swimming in his brown eyes.

You whimpered afraid, recoiling into Jungkook’s chest unconsciously. Jimin’s always been scary when he’s pissed off, but never to this point.

Jimin’s face softened immediately at your fearful expression, you saw a hint of regret in his gaze.

“Hey, don’t scare her.” Jungkook snapped soothing you when you cried, he hugged you tightly. But his soft kiss on your temple didn’t comfort you at all, it only made you wailed harder with disgust.

“Puh-please just… leave us alone, what do you want?” You asked with labored breaths, you looked up hopeless at Jimin.

“Hyung,” warned Taehyung darkly. He sounded on edge by your cries.

“We want you.” Said Jimin with a cold voice.

“And we’re pissed at your parents for lying to you about us.” Continued Jungkook with a thick angered voice.

“So, we came here to teach them a lesson.” Grinned widely Taehyung like a sadist.

It was nothing new that your parents didn’t like your friends, they always told you to get away from them. You never listened to your parents because you thought they were saying bullshit, but you damn regretted not listening to them. They were right about these sickos.

“So you just want me.” You deadpan.

“Yep.” You listened behind you.

“Okay fine, do whatever you want with me. But. Let. Them. Go.” You gritted between teeth, pointing at your parents passed out on the floor.

The living room went silent at your words, the hush made you feel unease.

Jimin squatted in front of you again, this time, giving you the meanest and sadistic grin you’ve ever seen before.

“Take her up.” He ordered lowly, piercing his heavy and intimidating gaze on you, then his eyes dropped slowly to stare at your naked torso, gaze darkening and fixated on your chest. You felt your cheeks heating up by embarrassment, you felt self-conscious.

Your throat lump and your stomach turned when Jungkook carried you up to your room. Taehyung coo when he saw your silent tears streaming from your eyes.

Jungkook laid you down on the mattress rather softly, making your heart shatter. They were your best friends. The acid betrayal you felt burning your chest and throat was too painful to bear.

You weren’t surprised when you saw your SIM card on your nightstand.

“Stop looking so miserable, we’re not hurting you.” Jungkook said on the defensive. His scowl only angered you, but another part of you enjoyed to see that your disgust affected him.

“You fucking hurt my parents, chase me in my own house and manipulated me to let you fuck me! I have all the right in the world to feel and look miserable!” You felt your vocal cords ripping by your loud scream.

Jungkook and you stared at each other with labored breaths, you didn’t break your gaze in challenge, until you heard Jimin’s giggles.

“Tied her to the bed,” he said with a smile, making your stomach turn.

You closed your eyes, if they wanted to have their way with you, so it be. But you’ll be just a dull body under them, you choose to dissociate rather than to be present for them.

“None of that, open your eyes.” Taehyung growled gripping harshly your chin.

Your breath hitched when you felt a hand wrapping your neck, making your eyes open in a flash.

And the image above you freeze your entire body.

The three of them were staring down at you with hunger on their eyes, you saw their pretty faces coming closer to yours, smiling like the devils they were.

Ready to wreck you.

You can read the +18 continuation on Patreon.

taglist:

@demonshauntingthedoves @pynkgothicka @cutequeen00 @nothingsreal420 @ririkookiemonster-archives @cannotalwaysbenight @loumin908 @devilzliaison @uniquecutie-puffs @polarnightmyg

453 notes · View notes

breezy141 · 10 months ago

Text

chat - caseoh x f!reader

sum: case introduced you to his chat (ft.kitty) master list

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“literally three seconds into the the stream and i get called fat, thanks chat. streams over” case spoke with sarcasm. today he wore something out the usual, a plain black t-shirt and some plain joggers, no hat. this was unusual as he wears hoodies, making sure he has his hood up at all time.

as well, he didn’t have his headset on. which was also weird, his chat noticed instantly and called him out for it. “what did this loser just say? ‘what is bro doing’ how bout you give me a moment buddy”

off screen, you nervous played with the jewellery pieces you had on your fingers and wrists. it was about to be the first time you have been introduced to case’s chat, no one really knew who you were. you ran your own streams however, your average was only around three thousand.

case looked over to you and smiled sweetly, calming your nerves a little. “so chat, i have someone to show you” instantly chat started filling up with inquiries.

“it’s his dietitian fr”

“your personal trainer??”

chat didn’t hold back, case threw his hand in the air and waved you over. “come here” he said softly, you waddled over awkwardly and krept into the screen, showing a small wave when you knew you were in screen. case pulled another chair over and you quickly took your seat.

“so guys, everyone welcome y/n. she is m- no chat i’m not going to eat her. she is ma girlfriend, for about eight months now” you nodded along, watching as the chat waffled.

“how tf you pull her?”

“maybe you do spend time outside”

“she fine ash”

you giggled to yourself as you read the chat. “i am she” you spoke, looking at case. he smiled at you and leaned closer to you, getting more comfortable.

“basically, we are gonna be playing some horror games and maybe see how tim and jim are doing” you nodded, wanting to meet the infamous employees of CASEOHS

you gasped as the bundle of fur entered his room

“KITTY!” you said in unison

#streamer #caseoh #caseoh x reader #jynxzi #fluff #romance #cute #caseoh x f!reader #fanfic #twitch

999 notes · View notes

kingkat12 · 7 months ago

Text

seven minutes in hell (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, public sex(??), voyeurism, emotional extortion (Roman is such an ass omg), groping, foul language, smoking, angst, mentions of sex

summary: after you made out with Roman during a game of seven minutes in heaven, he insists that you owe him for not telling Letha about it-- how can someone so beautiful be so evil?

word count: 8,192 (yes I know lol)

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10

a/n: after having my inbox flooded w sweethearts asking for a part two, here you go!! I do advise new readers to read the first one before this, because idk how much sense this is going to make without it lol, but enjoy!!<33

Paranoia. That was the only word that could describe the week that followed the party where Roman and I had kissed.

I had spent every waking moment wondering when Roman would show up to cash in his debt or prick me with a goddamn needle. His words lingered in my mind, haunting me; "Fine, I'll be nice. But you owe me," The reminder of those words sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn't help but wonder how I could've been so stupid as to rope myself into something like this.

Roman knew I liked him. In fact, he knew it very well. I couldn't even mask my feelings with hatred anymore, and everything about that made me want to throw myself off a cliff-- that would probably be more merciful than whatever it was that I had in store.

After we had made out during seven minutes of heaven, I had to tell my best friend, Letha, that nothing had happened. If she found out that I had made out with her cousin, I doubt she'd want to have me hanging around any longer. And quite frankly, Letha was my favourite person in the whole world, so it was detrimental that she stayed close. She was like a ray of sunshine peeking out through heaps of stormy skies; there was no way in hell I'd lose her without a fight.

Which is why I needed to keep Roman in check, along with my body un-pierced by any incoming needles.

The first time I saw him after the party, was a few days later in the cafeteria at school. I had stopped in my tracks, completely turning to stone as I watched him with his friends. It was almost as though I was afraid he'd see me if I moved, and to my shock, that's exactly what happened-- as I shifted my weight from one foot to another, harshly gripping my tray of food, his eyes landed on me with a quickness that immediately threw me into a state of panic. I bolted with speed I didn't know I had, not stopping until I reached the other end of the school, panting.

The second time had been at the library. I had been looking for a specific book that was quite old, meaning I had to do a lot of searching-- the librarian had been of no help, of course. As I scoured the shelves of endless books, crouching down to get a look at the lower sections, I suddenly felt a pair of eyes on me from above.

I looked up to find Roman's green eyes staring at me from the other aisle; his height made it ridiculously easy to lean over, having no visual obstruction of my side of the shelf. Something about the smirk playing across his lips made me freeze up-- it felt like I was prey, about to be eaten whole. I let out a squeak of horror as I grabbed the first book I saw, not letting him get a word in before I dashed towards the exit without a second thought.

The third time was the absolute worst; I had been walking down the stairs with Letha, on our way to our shared history class, as we suddenly encountered Roman on his way up. I felt my heart beat against the books I now pressed tightly against my chest, holding my breath as he neared us with a conniving look on his face-- I was quite sure I had lost all the blood in mine.

As Roman and Letha had a conversation about some sort of family dinner later, I did my best to make myself as small as possible; I wondered whether I should slip away into the crowd or just throw myself down the stairs.

I was quite sure that it was clear to Roman why I was avoiding him, and I was even more sure that it also was amusing to him. It was rather obvious, with the way he obnoxiously eyed me up with a growing grin. "You okay?" he asked, nudging me. "You look spooked."

Asshole. Just the slightest touch was enough to make me flinch, and my words came out in a breathy mumble; "I'm fine,"

Roman nodded, exchanging a look with Letha. He grew taller when he took a step up, inching closer as he leaned over to check which books I had pressed up against my chest. His long, slender fingers reached forward to tug at one of the books to get a better look, and I would've missed the note he slipped down along the front of my history book if I had blinked. As Roman pulled away, dragging his fingers through his hair as though nothing had happened, I held my books as tight to my chest as I possibly could to not let the note slide down to the floor.

My heart was beating harder than ever as Roman made his way past me, his familiar cologne lingering in my system as Letha and I made it to class five minutes early. As she left to use the bathroom, I could finally put away my things, inhaling a shaky breath as I checked the note;

meet me behind school in an hour, or I tell Letha everything

I couldn't help the groan that escaped me, ripping the piece of paper to shreds. This was not going to end well.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Somehow, I had managed to pry myself away from Letha for long enough to make it in time for my meeting with Roman. I was tugging at the sleeves of my jumper, anxiously ripping at the fabric. Wondering whether I should've worn protective gear to shield myself from any needle-kinks he might impose on me, I trembled with fear-- I didn't want to see him.

Despite my wishes, Roman eventually came around the corner, a rather mischievous smirk spread across his soft, pink lips as he neared me. His hands were tucked into his pockets as he leaned against the wall next to me, his green eyes etching themselves into my skull. His usual cardigan was draped around his shoulders and over his white shirt, tied in the front, as he crossed his long legs in the classic Roman Godfrey stance. "I'm glad to see you came,"

"As if I had a choice," I mumbled, glancing at our surroundings, not wanting to be caught alone with him here. I had to do everything in my power not to look at the casual swoop of his hair, not wanting to think about how handsome he looked right now. "What do you want?"

Roman blinked twice, almost as though he had expected me to say something else. "Isn't it obvious?"

I was afraid my heart was pounding audibly in my chest. "No," My gaze darted down to my shoes, kicking away a nearby rock. "Can't we just forget any of it ever happened?"

"Well, that was sort of the draft of the original plan," Roman said, shrugging. "But you've clearly not been able to forget it, with the way you've been avoiding me for a week now... So it seems we have to resolve this, somehow."

Did this mean that I had only made things worse for myself? I wanted to hit my head against the wall and bleed out-- that would probably feel better than what I was feeling on the inside right now. "The actual kiss hasn't been on my mind much... Mostly just the needles,"

Roman let out a huff-- was it a laugh? "I'm not going to fucking poke you, could you calm down about that?"

"I can't be sure when it comes to you, Roman!--"

"So you haven't thought about it?" He cut me off, eyes sparkling with the need to know. "The kiss?"

If I'd had something to throw at him, I would've done so in a heartbeat. Why was he so keen on knowing that? "Not much,"

"Only at night?"

I couldn't even hold back my grimace, listening to him snickering like a proud toddler. "Definitely not," I grumbled, now kicking at another rock. "Why does it matter to you?"

Roman shrugged; "I don't think you understand how intriguing it was to find out you've liked me all this time," He watched as I continued to tug at the sleeve of my sweater, looking like a nervous wreck. The image before him made his grin widen. "You've been the biggest bitch ever, do you know that? I was dead sure you hated my guts until you begged me to fucking kiss you!"

"I didn't beg!" I exclaimed, protesting. "In your fucking dreams, Roman!"

He rolled his eyes, taking a step towards me. Feeling his presence inching closer, I stopped kicking the scattered rocks around me, looking up to meet his gaze.

Roman leaned down, matching himself on the level of my widening eyes. He studied me as I froze to my spot like an icicle, holding my breath to not get swept up in thoughts of how good he smelled and how soft his lips looked up close. "You're still running your mouth," he mumbled, and I felt his eyes fall on my lips as well. "I thought you might get a little nicer if I complied with your little kiss."

His way of thinking had me furrowing my brows, confused. Was that why he kissed me? A tiny piece of my heart broke, the hope I had buried deep in my gut dissolving. Why had I ever hoped that his reasons for kissing me the way he did had been different? "I'll be nice if you agree that I don't owe you anything anymore. It's been driving me nuts,"

With this, Roman broke out into a rather abrupt laugh; "Are you kidding? There's no way in hell I'd absolve you of that, anymore,"

The laugh felt so damning, I couldn't help but shudder. I was two seconds away from kicking him instead of the rocks. "What do you want, then?"

Roman straightened up, the look on his face giving away that he was debating what to choose. "It's probably not something as bad as you expected it to be," he said, nodding to himself as he no longer met my hard gaze. "I'd just like it if you told me why you like me."

What? I stared up at him in disbelief, lips parting in shock. Had I avoided him like the plague over a simple question? Sure, it wasn't the most comfortable one to answer, but my mind had already concluded that he would stick me with needles like a voodoo doll and leave me for dead on a road somewhere. "Uh... Could I ask why?"

"Nope,"

I nodded; "Okay...?" Clearing my throat, I pondered where to start. I hadn't actually thought about this question, and I had to scour my brain for the answer. "I don't know," I eventually mumbled. "I guess I just think you're handsome." Saying it out loud physically pained me, but I knew I had to get this over with.

Roman blinked twice, meeting my gaze with a rather empty look about him. "That's it?"

"I don't know? I think so," I shrugged, searching through my mind for more. "You're my type, I suppose. Tall, brown hair, green eyes... And unattainable. I guess that a part of me likes that you'll never like me back." Saying this out loud, however, was even worse. I hadn't thought about it like that up until this moment.

Roman seemed even more confused than I did. "So it was nothing that I did?"

Something told me he was searching for something more meaningful, but I had always known that my crush was superficial. "I don't think so..."

What followed would haunt me for days on end; Roman broke out into a rather maniacal laugh, running his hands through his hair in clear denial. "So it's just the same, then," he said in between hiccups of laughter. "It's not about me at all!"

I could only watch as he went into some sort of a mental storm, biting down on his lower lip to suppress the noise. "I don't think you quite understand how it is for no one to like you for you," Roman continued, now pacing back and forth as his trail of words sped up; "You've probably never had that problem, right? Guys probably like you because you're nice to them, I've seen that multiple times. Or that one guy that just hasn't left you alone since you sat together during assembly that one time-- what the fuck was his name?"

I held my breath; what on earth was I witnessing? "Roman, I think you're spiraling, let's just breathe--"

"Daniel, wasn't it?" Roman finally looked back at me, a cramped smile on display along his lips. "He definitely likes you for you, right? Not just because you're cute? That must be fucking nice."

I had never imagined that I would pity someone for only being liked for their looks. Somehow, I found myself wanting to comfort him, and I had to fight that instinct. "It would probably be easier for you to find something real if you weren't such a prick," I mumbled. "If you didn't tug people's hair, throw stuff at them, or stab them with needles?"

That seemed to be enough for Roman to take a step back from his weird state, his pacing coming to a halt. Something seemed to be dawning on him, a crushing realization that should've come about ten years ago, but instead of taking it like an adult, he retaliated; "Well, you're not exactly doing any better than me! You've liked me for God knows how long, and you've treated me like utter crap!"

"Because you did the same to me!" I said, feeling my voice raise with my emotions. "You've had no interest in me, along with all the bullshit you've pulled all year! Don't you think it would probably be easier for me to like you for who you are if you had been a pleasant person to be around?"

Groaning, Roman turned his back to me, ready to walk away. After taking a few steps, he turned on his heel, facing me once more. Fury was burning in his green, green eyes, fists balling up as he spoke; "This is not over. You tell anyone just a tiny fraction of this conversation, I'll tell Letha I fucked you raw,"

My jaw fell in complete and utter shock as he walked away, cursing myself to the heavens and beyond. How had I managed to make this an even bigger mess than it was before I came? As I went back to kicking rocks, trying to catch my breath, bits of the conversation suddenly came back to me; did he just say that I was cute? That he had seen me with Daniel during assembly, and that he had spotted me talking to my previous flings?

This only made everything furthermore confusing; it was obvious that he didn't like me, either. But what on earth was going on in that brain of his?

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

The next time I saw Roman was a few days later in the hallway during rush hour. I had spent several nights tossing and turning, trying to decrypt the conversation that continued to haunt me. The conclusion I arrived at, was that he might be lashing out with the needles and the childish behaviour because he didn't know how else to express interest.

But then again, that would mean that he was very interested in me. I was sure something was wrong with that conclusion, but I couldn't pinpoint any other possible theory at this moment. I also couldn't shake how upset he looked when he found out my crush was purely superficial; was his need to be seen for who he was so overpowering?

So when I finally flagged him down, Roman was in a rush, and this was rather unfortunate; my legs were much shorter than his, and I had to go into a jog to not lose sight of him. Eventually, I caught up to him, grabbing his wrist and tugging at the sleeve of his shirt to get his attention.

Roman seemed rather confused, glancing down at me with a wild look in his eyes which quickly died out when he saw who it was. "What are you doing?--"

"You smiled at me in class," I confessed, feeling my cheeks redden. "The sun was hitting your eyes in a way that made them extra green, and you smiled at me and handed me a pencil. That's when I knew I liked you." Slowly, I pried my fingers away from his wrist, letting out the breath I didn't know I had been holding. It felt like an enormous weight had lifted off my shoulders, like the anxiety that clung to me had been washed away in a calm stream of water in the mountains.

Why did I feel such a strong need to tell him my crush wasn't purely superficial? That it had stemmed from the simplest act of kindness? I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Did I pity him that much?

Roman's pupils expanded, and he stood as if glued to his spot. People kept passing us by, but it was as though all the surrounding sound died out. It was clear that his mind was racing, his brows drawing together in confusion-- or was it disgust? I couldn't be sure. Either way, my heart was thumping so hard in my chest that it hurt.

I cleared my throat; "Have... a nice day," Before he could answer or make fun of me, I turned on my heel and bolted down the hall, knowing my heart wouldn't be able to take it if he shut me down once more.

I couldn't take any more of this. Clutching my heart as I made it to my locker, I knew I had to get ready for class and that I didn't have time for the crushing feeling taking over my chest.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

A big part of me had hoped that our last interaction would be the end of it all. That I wouldn't have to owe Roman anything anymore, that he wouldn't be threatening to tell Letha that we kissed or fucked or whatever-- I should've known that was an unattainable reality.

I was practically falling asleep at the end of a long day of school. Exhausted, I allowed myself to close my eyes as I leaned my head against my palm, elbow at my table, waiting for class to start. A worrying thought popped into my head as I realized that chemistry was the only class I shared with Roman, which meant that he would probably be showing up any time soon.

With a yawn, I blinked several times, hoping to wake up as I sat back in my chair. I was about to do some stretches, but as I turned to my right, I let out a yelp, nearly falling off my seat.

And I would've fallen right down to the floor if Roman hadn't grabbed the edge of my chair, holding me back with one hand as though it was nothing. "Careful, there,"

That's exactly what he had said when we were in that damn closet playing seven minutes in heaven. I shivered, getting a severe case of deja vu as I looked back at him in disbelief. "When on earth did you show up?"

"Right around the time you nodded off," Roman's books were already on the table-- had I genuinely slept for a minute or two? How could I have missed this? He let go of my seat with a snicker, shaking his head; "You're quite the case, aren't you?"

I didn't like the sound of that. "What do you want? Why are you sitting here?"

"Could you relax?" Roman rolled his eyes, his mood worsening by the second. "Look around, Sherlock, there's nowhere else to sit."

It pained me to realize he was right. With a huff, I fought the urge to kick him under the table. As the teacher finally entered the classroom, excusing himself for being a few minutes late, I let out a sigh of relief; I hoped to avoid talking to Roman as much as possible from now on. After I had confessed to him and gotten nothing in return again, I was dead tired of seeing his gorgeous face-- it was physically painful, at this point.

As class started, I reached into my bag to find a pencil. A good minute passed by as I rummaged around, which eventually garnered Roman's attention; he immediately knew what I was looking for. He turned to me with a spare pencil which he had lying about on his table, holding it out in front of me.

Someone up there was definitely playing pranks on me-- I was sure of it now. With an embarrassed smile, I watched as the sun hit the green of his eyes, illuminating them further as I reached for the pencil. The tips of our fingers touched, just for a few seconds, but it felt like I had almost burned myself with how my nerves reacted to the nudge of his hand against mine.

Roman seemed to understand the irony of the situation, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards into a dizzying look of kindness.

There it was. The root of all my problems-- the simplest act of warmth along with the most beautiful smile I had ever seen. The bullshit that started it all.

I hummed to myself as I broke eye contact, crouching over my table to start taking notes, desperate to distract myself. Every fibre of my being felt like it was buzzing with electricity, unable to calm down.

It didn't take long before Roman shoved a small note onto my part of the table. I gave him a look before I opened it, sighing.

we need to talk. meet me by my car after school

Turning to Roman, I couldn't help but glare; this again? But his smirk melted me in more ways than one, and I knew that it could have consequences if I didn't go.

Fuck.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

I waited until there were almost no cars in the parking lot in front of the school, hiding away in the library in the meantime. I didn't exactly want to be seen talking to him. As I finally walked out past the front entrance, I held my breath as I spotted Roman leaning against his red jaguar, typing away on his phone. I wondered who he was texting-- was it Brooke from the cheerleading team? No, it couldn't be; unless she still wanted to be with him after he pricked her with the legendary needle.

It didn't take long for Roman to put away his phone, watching me as I neared him. Something about the way his hair lay in waves over his forehead made him look like even more of a heartbreaker than he already was. "Long time no see, hm?"

I didn't even want to fake being entertained by that-- we both knew that we'd seen each other in class less than twenty minutes ago. "What do you want?"

Roman rolled his eyes; "Can't you at least act like you like me? We both know you do,"

Something about being called out like that didn't sit right with me, but I swallowed my curses. I had to be on his good side, after all, so that he wouldn't turn around and tell Letha what had happened between us. "Did you want me to come skipping down the stairs and run to you?" I asked, getting a good look at him. "Or maybe a blowjob before I bake you a pie?"

A humoured smirk spread across his lips, giving in to a chuckle. "You could at least start by standing a little closer?" Roman put his hands up in the air as though he was surrendering; "Look ma, no needles!"

I huffed, complying. I took a few steps forward, watching the last car leave in my peripheral view. It was definitely not a good idea to be alone with him like this-- I should've known better.

This didn't seem to be enough for Roman, who proceeded to tap the spot next to him on the hood of his car.

I groaned; "Roman, come on--"

In a swift motion, he hooked his fingers inside my front pockets, dragging me forward as I yelped. Roman grabbed my hips, forcing me down on the car with a soft thud. With wide eyes, I turned to him, watching his hands disappear back into his pockets.

"You're infuriating," Roman mumbled under his breath, fishing out a pack of cigarettes from his right pocket. He held it out in front of me; "Want one?"

Honestly, I had only smoked once. It had resulted in me coughing up what felt like half a lung. "No, thanks,"

He shrugged, lighting up a cigarette as he hummed. This little dance around why he had told me to come made me further nervous, once again reaching for the sleeve of my sweater, tugging at the seams that had come loose. The smell of nicotine infiltrated my nose, and I turned to him just in time to watch him exhale a few rings of smoke, eyes transfixed on them as they evaporated into thin air.

Finally, Roman spoke up; "I'm calling for a truce,"

What? My eyes widened, scanning him for lies. "... What's the catch?"

Roman turned to me, a slight smile splayed across his lips. "You know me too well," he said, chuckling as a light breeze passed us. "I want us to play a game, and then all is forgotten."

"Oh no," I blurted out. "What kind of game, Roman? Can't you take pity on me just once?--"

I immediately shut up as I felt his arm wrap around me, holding out his cigarette in front of my mouth between his fingers. I wasn't about to start fighting him in an empty parking lot, so I parted my lips, accepting the cigarette despite knowing I would cough up everything I had eaten for lunch if I inhaled properly.

Roman's face was suddenly very close to mine; "Ever heard of this game... Wait, what was it called? Seven minutes in hell?"

For fuck's sake. I watched as he laughed, amused by his joke. Still, my eyes darted down to his bouncing leg, watching as he gave away a sliver of nervousness. I reached for the cigarette, getting it out of my mouth; "Sounds about right," Balancing it between my fingers, holding it out in front of his mouth just as he had done to me, Roman hummed as he wrapped his lips around the cigarette, taking a puff.

Before Roman could take it back into his hand, I pulled the cigarette away from him, putting it back into my mouth. Something about sharing the cigarette was making a familiar ache between my legs throb, which in turn made me cross my legs. I didn't inhale the smoke into my lungs, keeping it in my mouth before breathing it out, knowing it was hard to differentiate between that and the real thing. "Where would we play?" I eventually said, glancing at him.

Now that we were sitting like this, Roman's arm around me, I realized we hadn't been this close since that party where we had kissed. Something about his embrace was comforting, despite me knowing that he was doing it to take the piss out of me. However, my steadfast belief in his reasons became shaky as I met his eyes, watching how unusually big his pupils were as he looked down at me, a certain calmness about him. "My car?"

I couldn't help but giggle as I handed him the cigarette, our fingers meeting in the exchange. "I'm not making out with you in your car,"

"Why not?"

"Every single cheerleader slut at this school has been in the back of that thing,"

Roman shrugged; "Not everyone. Eleven out of fifteen,"

"Ew, you're not making it any better!--"

"Fine!" he huffed, giving me a squeeze with the arm he had around me. Roman put out his cigarette by throwing it to the ground, giving it a proper stomp before he turned to me, a mischievous smirk on display. "No one has been in the front, though."

It was hard to say no when he looked at me like this; how was it possible for someone so conniving to be so beautiful? I had to look away from Roman-- it was getting impossible to breathe. Tugging at my sleeves once more, I realized I had ripped out a new seam. "Look, I have to say I'm a little confused... You're not even into me, so I don't get why you'd want to kiss me again," I let go of my sweater, realizing I would probably manage to rip it all apart if I didn't calm down. "It really is a power thing for you, isn't it?"

Roman hummed, rubbing my arm in a soothing manner as he stared out at the parking lot with a rather hollow look in his eyes. "Yeah... That's definitely what it is,"

I didn't have time to wonder why he didn't sound so convinced. As I dared to look at him again, I watched him lost in thought, pondering something. I took that as my cue to get out of playing his game; "Making out would probably be fun and all, but don't you think it is more beneficial for you if we maybe got to... I don't know, know each other?"

Confused, Roman's gaze darted back to me. "Why?"

"You seemed to be a little upset that I didn't like you because of you, remember?" I gave him a playful nudge, drawing forth a smile. "Instead of imposing your weird dominance kink or whatever it is on me, wouldn't you want to prove that there's more to you?"

This seemed to strike a chord with Roman, who slowly started to nod in approval. "That... doesn't sound so bad,"

I damn right hoped so-- I let out a shaky breath, relieved to not become the twelfth girl to end up in Roman's car.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

I couldn't believe that I had managed to fix myself up with a date with the Roman Godfrey. He was practically known for never going out on dates with anyone, but here I was, running around my room trying to find something nice to wear.

However, there was one tiny hoop I had to get through-- Letha was on speaker phone as I rummaged through my drawers, and my heart was racing as I tried to avoid her questions."I still don't get why you can't hang out today!" Letha whined, clearly upset with me. "I thought you were going to help me pick out some shoes down at the sale!"

I grimaced, feeling like the biggest prick on the planet. "I'm sorry, Letha, I'm just not feeling too good..." With a heavy heart, I could hear her sulk on the other end as I finally found the perfect bag.

"I've barely seen you this week... You've been so jumpy, I just feel like you're avoiding me. Did I do something?"

No, no! I was about to protest until I heard a sound coming from my driveway; I made my way to my window, glancing down at Roman's red car, watching as he parked. Clearing my throat, I rushed to my phone; "Letha, I'm so fucking nauseous, I think I need to throw up... I'm so sorry, could I call you back later?"

I heard her sigh; "Get better soon, okay?--"

As Roman started honking outside, clearly impatient, I had to leave the call without even saying goodbye. Groaning, I gathered my stuff, making my way down the stairs and outside with hurried steps. "Stop that!" I said, trying to steady my breathing as I approached the car. "My parents are inside!"

"So what?" Roman's cocky smirk was on display as always, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. "Whatever dumb fuck told you I'm a patient man, is a dumb fuck." Roman got out of his car to open my door on the other side. It was nice to see that he had a gentleman bone in him-- it gave me hope that this date wouldn't crash and burn.

And weirdly enough, it actually went quite well. I had been worried that he'd take me out shooting or whatever it was that he did in his free time, but Roman settled for something simple-- we were currently sat in my favourite café in the city, having the most normal conversation we'd ever had.

"You're kidding me?" Roman said, putting down his coffee with a look of shock on his face. "You've never seen The Godfather?"

I couldn't help but huff-- this was a solid reminder that he still was a guy at the end of the day. "I haven't gotten to it, I guess,"

"Well, you have to!" He ran his fingers through his styled hair, shaking his head in disapproval. Roman was wearing a different shirt today that I hadn't seen before, and I was getting the feeling that he had actually dressed up a bit despite how casual this date was. "What else haven't you seen?"

"Uh, I don't know?--"

"What else haven't you done, is probably a better question," Roman was grinning from ear to ear now, eyes sparkling in anticipation. "First kiss?"

"David Parker, eighth grade," I put down my milkshake with a smirk, happy to be sizing him up. "You?"

Roman seemed beyond amused; "Amanda Reiley, sixth," He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table, intrigued that I wasn't backing down from his intrusive questions. "First time?"

I had to suppress a cough, feeling as though I was choking on air. There was no way in hell I'd tell him I hadn't had sex yet. "... Some guy I met on vacation last year in Greece, don't remember his name,"

"Really, now?" Roman hummed, leaning back against his chair. "Not buying it. You squirm like a virgin every time I look at you."

My breath caught in my throat-- "Pardon?"

It seemed that my reaction only amused him, but he still spared me by brushing over it. "My first time was with Denise Campbell, ninth grade. Was really sweet, actually,"

I tried to shake off the fact that Roman had been right in his deductions. The story of his first time was unexpected, and he had been quite young-- concerningly young. "Roman Godfrey and sweet don't usually go together, in my book. Did you light candles or something?" I took a sip of my milkshake, watching him break out into a smile.

"Honestly? I think she lit one," he said, a soft chuckle following.

I had forgotten how beautiful his laugh was. Flustered, I put away my milkshake, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as I met his gorgeous, green eyes. There was a calmness about him now, something I had trouble getting used to. It was a big contrast to the way he had looked at me while we played seven minutes in heaven, or the way he had been looking at me the whole week I had avoided him. The usual feeling of unease that crept up my system whenever he was around was long gone-- it was almost as though we were friends.

Nervous about my next question, I started picking at my nails; "So where did it go wrong?"

"Pardon?"

I didn't meet his gaze anymore. "When did it become casual to you?"

"Sex?"

"Sex,"

Roman hummed, taking a rather long sip of coffee. I wondered whether I had gone too far with the question, but he didn't seem fazed. "Didn't get too far with being sweet, I suppose,"

This was definitely a chapter in Roman's life that I hadn't expected to hear about-- who had broken his heart? And why was it comforting to know that he'd had that experience? Something about it made him more human. "That's sad," I mumbled, forcing myself to leave my nails alone. "Sweet usually gets you quite far."

Something about that seemed to intrigue him; he moved to the edge of his chair, closer. "Don't you girls usually like the bad guys? That seems to work well, in my experience,"

I shrugged; "It can be fun for a week or two. Any longer than that, and your heart starts to tire,"

"Ah," was all Roman said, tapping his fingers against the table in an impatient manner. "Would you want to get ice cream? It's on me."

This conversation was starting to give me whiplash. "I'm sold," I eventually answered, shooting him a smile. It was nice to know that he wanted to continue the date despite my intrusive questions-- I couldn't lie; I was rather enjoying myself. And my ego was getting the biggest inflation it'd had in a while, remembering he didn't usually go out on dates at all.

About half an hour later, we were now walking down the street with our ice cream, once again debating why I hadn't watched The Godfather-- boys really love that movie, don't they? I took the liberty of looking up at him as he explained the plot to me in excessive detail, watching his hands flail around in excitement as he spoke, eyes round and green, and the way a single strand of hair lay in front of his eyes, straying from his stylings.

The man I had hated this whole year suddenly became a person to me. A person with interests, quirks, and feelings-- weirdly enough. Roman didn't come off as a spoiled brat right now, and I could barely remember a time when I would run away from him and his needles. Like this, I could imagine sweet moments with Roman, possibly even holding his hand as we walked down this street, doing normal stuff together.

In another lifetime, I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.

However, I was quickly yanked out of my daydreams when I spotted a familiar figure leaving the shoe store across the street. With a panicked yelp, I grabbed Roman, dragging him down the nearest alleyway as I felt my blood run cold.

Roman looked beyond confused; "What are you?--"

"Letha!"

His mouth formed an 'o', watching me press myself up against the wall. "She doesn't know?"

I shook my head, letting out a shaky breath. This was definitely not what I needed right now. If she found out I was here with Roman and that I had lied to her, I was sure she'd have my head. Why couldn't I just melt into the wall and become immaterial?

With ease and calm, Roman grabbed my finished ice cream, putting it down on the ground along with his own before nearing me. "We'll wait it out,"

What? "Thought you were ready to rat me out?" I leaned forward, glancing past the corner of the alley, making sure Letha hadn't seen us.

"Well..." Roman put his hand on my shoulder, guiding my back to the wall once more. "I know she'd kill you, and you can't die before watching The Godfather."

Had I not been preoccupied with being quiet, I would've groaned right in his cocky face. The hand he had on my shoulder burned against my skin, and I was getting flashbacks to our time in the closet at the party where we had kissed. "I've repaid my debt to you now, anyway," I mumbled, warily glancing past the edge of the corner where we were standing, watching Letha from afar.

Roman's hand on my shoulder quickly made its way into my hair, fingers twisting themselves into the nape of my neck, forcing me to face him. I let my breath escape me as my lips parted, watching him with big, wide eyes; what was happening? It was at this moment that I realized how close he was standing, how he was practically pressed up against me.

There was something sinister about the look on Roman's face-- it suddenly dawned on me that he was still the same person, even though he had buried this side of him for a few hours. He would always thrive when seeing someone in an anxious state, feel joy at any visible conflict or misery, and it dawned on me how bad of a situation this was when his next words came out in a dangerous whisper; "I could just call her over here, do you know that?" Roman's grip on my hair tightened, almost enough to make me wince. "You've made quite a mess of yourself, sneaking behind her back. I could ruin you in a second."

"You won't, though," Fucker.

Intrigued, Roman's green eyes sparkled; "And why are you so sure of that?"

My chest was heaving against him, hating every second, every minute of this encounter. When had he turned into such a sadist? Was it after Denise Campbell in ninth grade? I wanted to make sure I asked him that next time. "Because this gets you high," I hissed. "This feeling that you get from watching me get scared? You're addicted. You're a fucking junkie."

I felt Roman breathe out against my lips, leaning closer, eyes burning into mine. I could see the flickering flames in them, and I knew that I had set them alight-- I was quite literally playing with fire at this point. "Well, this is who I am," he said through gritted teeth. "Do you get it now?"

"Get what?"

"Why no one likes me," Now, the fire died out, turning into an unintelligible emotion swimming in the green of his eyes. I didn't need to be a specialist to understand that he was baring his coping mechanism for me to see. "Why no one ever will. And why you will go back to hating me once we're done here."

It felt as though I had finally finished a puzzle with five thousand pieces. This was it. Had Roman made himself so unlovable to protect his feelings? Were all his stupid quirks just means to scare away girls so that they would stop liking him? I couldn't help but pity him-- beneath his harsh exterior, I could sense who he was beneath all of it. In a flash of emotions, I reached out to touch his face with a wary, gentle touch.

Roman's eyes widened, confused, as I moved away the strand of hair that strayed from the rest.

"I know you said this wouldn't be easy," I said, voice soft. "Whatever would ensue between us. And I spent a lot of time thinking about that, actually, and I think the answer is that you just make it hard for yourself." Sighing, I let my hands rest against his shoulders, watching his every move and reaction. It was obvious that he was caught off guard. "I pity you, Roman. But I thank you for making me realize how much guts one must have to feel... Why are you so scared?"

Roman just stared at me, his breathing coming out in shallow breaths through his nose. He stood as if frozen to his spot, and his hand left my hair, falling to his side as his eyes never left mine. "I'm not scared," he eventually said.

"You're terrified,"

"No,"

"There's no point denying, it's really fucking obvious--"

"No, it isn't!" Roman snarled, grabbing my hands, and prying them off of him. "Maybe I just don't like you in that way, have you ever considered that?"

I shrugged; "I have. But it still doesn't change the fact that I can read the fear on your face like an open fucking book,"

Groaning, Roman let out an exasperated sigh. He let go of my hands, the fury apparent in his unsteady breathing. It was obvious that he had never confronted his issues head-on, and that he didn't like the process one bit. "You need to watch your mouth,"

"Or what?" It was as though my fear had escaped me, staring him down with challenge burning its way through my veins. "You're going to tell Letha we fucked or whatever? Go ahead, see what I care! Just know that I will be telling the whole school that your dick is smaller than my pinky if you do."

Roman's eye twitched as he let out a guttural growl, body tensing up as he balled his fists, one of them returning to my hair. It was clear that I had angered him; he grabbed a fistful, yanking my head upward with a force that made me wince, pulling me flush against him. It was at this moment that I felt something press up against my stomach-- my eyes widened with the realization that he was hard. "Do you still like me?" he asked, his breath tickling the underside of my nose.

When I refused to answer, Roman took my silence as a yes. "You're going to hurt yourself if you continue to,"

"Wasn't it you who proclaimed me a masochist?" I answered, a smirk forming on my lips. Something told me that I had him cornered.

And I was right-- it was Roman's turn to go silent, staring into my eyes as multiple emotions flashed before him. Standing like this with him was almost comforting; I had finally deciphered him. I knew that he had practically built himself a fortress of hate and fired the canons at any signs of intrusions. He was so desperately human right now-- it was making me dizzy. Or was that just his harsh grip on my hair?

"Roman?"

A hum.

"You can kiss me now if you want to,"

The hand in my hair loosened its grip, and I watched as Roman inhaled a long breath, no longer conflicted.

And so our lips came together in the alley, a rather hungry kiss ensuing. My hands went up into Roman's hair, letting out soft gasps against him as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer to him with a burning need. I could taste the remnants of the chocolate flavoured ice-cream on his tongue, the sweetness mixing in with the roughness of our kiss. I wondered whether he could taste the vanilla on mine-- chocolate and vanilla were my favourite mix, anyway.

I knew there was a possibility of Letha spotting us if she walked our way, but it only made me more desperate for Roman. I had missed him dearly, the memories of our last kiss having haunted me through every hour of every day. There was no doubt in it now-- he wanted me too. It gave me such an immense rush, along with the satisfaction of feeling how hard he was against me, the throbbing of his cock continuing against my stomach as he pressed me further into the wall behind me. Something felt wrong about him being aroused after our fight, especially now that we were practically in public, but I knew I didn't want to push him away just yet.

I was completely breathless by the time Roman shifted, his thigh now pressing up against the apex of my own. Caught off guard, I whimpered as he grabbed my hips, moving my hips against him as the kiss deepened, growing further needy. I could feel it in my bones; not only did he want me, he needed me. This was just about the biggest high I had ever had. Roman Godfrey-- all mine in this moment.

The friction between my legs, feeling his cock continuously brush up against my stomach through our clothes, had me gripping his shoulder, disconnecting our kiss to catch my breath. My head rolled back against the wall behind me as I pondered how I had allowed this to happen, not used to pleasure caused by others.

Roman's fingers wrapped around my throat, holding me in place as we rocked against each other, lips hovering above one another before they came crashing together once more, unable to keep away. I let out a broken whimper, my hands flying back up into his hair, pulling him closer as pleasure coursed through my veins in a way I hadn't ever felt before. I couldn't quite put my finger on what this was, but I had never been this certain that I liked it.

I let out a broken moan as my head rolled back once more, which in turn had Roman connecting our lips, muffling any sounds. This was where I was reminded that we were in public, wondering if I had gone absolutely mad-- I blamed it all on him. His beautiful eyes, his strong arms, and his addicting, soft lips. As Roman continued to grind me up against his thigh, pulling away to watch my lips part and my body squirm in pleasure, I gazed up at the way the corners of his mouth turned up into his signature smirk. He knew exactly what he was doing-- messing with me like this, practically in public.

It took a lot of willpower for me to push him away, whimpering slightly at the loss of contact. "We-- We can't," I said, catching my breath.

Like this, I could see how disheveled Roman's hair was, how his lips looked swollen with kisses, and it made my stomach flip-- how was it possible for someone to be so beautiful, even when completely unraveled?

Roman shrugged, grinning from ear to ear. It was clear that he was scanning my look of arousal; "My car is right around the corner,"

"Okay...?"

Leaning forward, Roman captured my lips in a short kiss. "I can park it somewhere desolate," he said, nipping at my lower lip.

I couldn't help but shiver-- that sounded really fucking nice at the moment, but I knew I had to control myself. And I wasn't about to lose my virginity in a car? "Another time," I mumbled, struggling to catch my breath. Who would've known that arousal could cloud the mind like this?

Roman nodded, accepting my words as a promise. "I'll hold you to that,"

Oh no-- This again? Great.

Just great.

(a/n: here are the links to PART 1, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10!<33 thank you for reading!!)

#roman godfrey #hemlock grove #roman godfrey x reader #x reader #bill skarsgård #fanfiction #oneshot #bill skarsgard #fanfic #smut #angst #toxic relationship #reader needs a good shaking fr #ugh roman why why why #finally getting to use my psychology skills to decrypt Roman hihi

567 notes · View notes

sheyfu · 6 months ago

Text

in sleepless nights, i find solitude in you

FEATURING itoshi sae, itoshi rin, oliver aiku, chigiri hyoma, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, and shoei barou

CW oliver aiku

SYNOPSIS what they like to do on sleepless nights with you

NOTE these are hcs and are not reflective of their characters!

⋆˚✿˖° itoshi sae - hearing you talk about your day

- a mundane, yet intimate moment between you two - he finds it so endearing when you talk about your day and get so passionate about it too - he just loves hearing your voice; the way you speak, the way your voice just sliiightly raises when you’re telling him about some person you abhor (big boy word), and the way you ask him for his thoughts on something you’re yapping about makes him feel like the luckiest guy in the whole world - you both end up not sleeping D: but it’s okay, he’s not complaining because it’s you

⋆˚✿˖° itoshi rin - binge watching horror movies

- you hate him for this. - but at the same time, you love it because he holds you close to him - he knows you’re scared, especially when it’s ass o’clock in the evening (more like morning) and your room’s only source of light is the television. so he holds you tight :D - he has the urge to make fun of you because you’re oh so scared, but he stops himself from doing so because he loves holding you close

⋆˚✿˖° oliver aiku - holding you close to him (in his words, spooning)

- surprisingly, he’s not horny - i guess bc of practice, he’s tired and he just wants to de-stress and go on about his night without tiring himself out more, you included (LMAO NOT ME SPEAKING LIKE IM GANG W GREEN GALLAGHER) - so he holds you close :D - and its not like the hold you close and talk about stuff type either - literally the hold you close and sit in silence type with occasional kisses from him :D

⋆˚✿˖° chigiri hyoma - gossip (okay so some of you probably don't tolerate gossip but gossip culture has been SUUUUCH a big part of my life that i cant help but associate it w chigiri im so sorry you can bitch slap me for this LMAOAOAO ANWYAYS)

- he loves gossiping. he usually has THE ggoat (greatest gossip of all time) - this usually ranges from people he works closely with, or people he knows but that person doesn't know him but for some reason the news reached him LMAOAAOA - for some reason, he also has visual references??? like if theyre related to texting he has screenshots of their convo???? if irl, he has pictures????? YOU DONT KNOW HOW HE GETS THOSE 😭😭 (based this hc off my friend who has everything for some reason 😭😭) - and most of the time theyre literally so mind-boggling you have to stop him and walk around the room to calm your beating heart down - he also loves using a soundboard while doing so LMOAOAOAO

⋆˚✿˖° mikage reo - slow dancing

- ah yes. the typical rich boy activities. - but like even if he wasnt born in that class (GANG DONT TWIST MY WORDS IM NOT A CLASSIST WLANSISOS), he'd most likely still love doing this (idk theres smth about him that js makes me think he would love dancing) - in the kitchen, dimmed lights, his hands on your waist, yours on his shoulders, herb alpert playing in the background, and his lips on your forehead - im leaving it at that :))

⋆˚✿˖° nagi seishiro - playing roblox

- typical nagi. - what roblox games you ask? dress to impress. - he likes playing simple games at night. and those simple games dont include dress to impress :)) - buuuut. he still plays it because the satisfaction he gets from beating 12 year olds outweigh the stress he gets from said 12 year olds - he loves to duo with you - literally caseoh just more nonchalant - he also likes to play those 2 player tycoons :DD

⋆˚✿˖° shoei barou - baking

- his love language is quality time - and what’s more quality than baking time >:D - hes not someone for consuming sugar at ass o’clock. but he’ll tolerate it bc it makes you happy :DD - he has those #probakingskillz bc he used to bake TONS of stuff with and for his sisters (HE ALSO BAKES THEIR GIRL SCOUT COOKIES GRAHHHHHHHH) - you also make him wear those silly pink frilly aprons (you have matching aprons but instead of yours being pink and frilly its literally the opposite)

692 notes · View notes

themuseofbaroque · 7 months ago

Text

astro obvs. & notes #1 - general

author’s note - this is for entertainment purposes only, none of this is fact. these are simply my own opinions!

- neptune 1H 🤝 pisces rising, noticing their eyes first. the water influence to these placements adds something that draws you in like a current, no pun intended. i used to work with a pisces rising, and she literally looked like a pretty fish (lmfao) big, shiny eyes. either of these placements can find it incredibly easy to appear sensual or seductive.

- speaking of water placements! i’ve also noticed pisces placements tend to take a lot of pictures around water. beaches, hot tubs, rivers.

- this can also be said for air signs (esp. libra) but with things they enjoy! i’m always seeing personal interest posts from libras, aquarians and geminis. music, video games, political causes, shows they’re watching, food, celebrities, etc. anything they like, they post. anything.

- i’ve never laughed harder than when i’m with people who have heavy gemini, capricorn, sagittarius and leo placements

- in my personal opinion and experience, capricorn risings are what people think scorpio rising is. i’ve only met one scorpio rising irl (that i know of) and she did not fit martian/plutonian ruling at all. celebrity examples ⬇️

kim hongjoong of ateez. the intimidation factor, the style, sex appeal, the interest in piercings/tattoos. he’s a capricorn rising, with his chart ruler, saturn, in the sign of aries so we see a lot of red/martian influence from him as well.

megan fox. she’s been a little fuckin weird ever since she dated mgk (that man makes me physically ill to look at much less read about) but! she had her bad bitch moments! being known primarily for her sex appeal + starring in jennifer’s body (a gothic treasure btw) i feel is very scorpio coded however she herself is a capricorn rising, with a sagittarius saturn in the 11h, more fire influence from her as well just like with hongjoong.

joan jett. THEE female guitarist of the 80s. her whole career was surrounded by sex, scandals, drugs, all the darker themes of rock n roll in general. she’s another fire ruled capricorn rising and a sagittarius saturn in the 11h like megan. her style and even her personality has an edge to it, much more fitting for scorpio/plutonian stereotypes rather the capricorn ones. imo.

- actors who’ve done major/recognizable roles in horror usually have a capricorn neptune. neptune is imagination and capricorn is ruled by the devil card in tarot. combine the two and you have quite literally = dark imagination. celebrity examples ⬇️

mia goth staring in the X series as the main face of the trilogy

bill skarsgard being the main face of the IT remake as pennywise

evan peters as tate langdon in AHS, he also played jeffery dahmer recently for netflix.

- capricorn actually shows up quite a bit in the horror genre, esp. gore and paranormal. both actors and writers.

- sagittarius too, oddly enough. a lot of well known faces of horror have major sagittarius placements/stelliums/jupiter dominance.

- underdeveloped cancer placements are more manipulative and two faced than geminis. i see so much gem slander on here, and don’t get me wrong, i love both cancer and gemini placements! however i’ve met and befriended quite a few of both, and cancers by far have been the common denominator in issues around them more than once. stirring the pot then turning around and playing the victim when people are frustrated, lying, playing both sides to better their own situation, and even playing people against each other. i’ve never seen such hateful behaviors from the geminis i know irl.

- aries men are much shyer compared to the women

- taurus women i’ve met irl get pregnant very easily. venus? good coochie? idk

- grand trines are some of the most beautiful people i’ve ever seen (a grand trine is when someone’s big 3, so sun/moon/rising, are in the same element but in all 3 different signs. ex: virgo sun, taurus moon, capricorn rising)

- queer individuals with pisces placements can pass as straight pretty easily if they wanted to. most of them are chameleons

- aries risings i’m so sorry for the household you had growing up. i see martian childhoods usually being the ones who dealt with screaming matches, toxic parents, poverty and underlying issues with siblings that last into adulthood

- i’m not surprised at all when libra placements tell me they’re in college for a general studies degree because they can’t figure out what they wanna do yet

- a lot of fan favorite female characters in video games are canonically cancers

- if you think your rising sign doesn’t suit you very well, try looking at whatever planet correlates with your gender identity. masculine: sun and mars, feminine: venus and moon. the houses and signs of these should help you out a little bit

- libra placements absolutely get favoritism at least once in their life, jobs/family dynamics especially

- sagittarius women usually have rough love lives, at least in the beginning. a lot of them try to save and help partners who don’t deserve it and they get hurt badly in the process. same goes with pisces women

- virgo venus is not that bad of a placement as stereotypes make it out to be. clean freaks? yes. perfectionists? usually, yes. loyal? yes. remember the small things? yes. romantic? no. at least not in a cheesy way. sensual? yes.

- lilith aspects to any of the big 3 is a bad bitch placement. honorable mention is venus/lilith aspects as well

- air signs like spicy food just as much as fire signs

- a lot of rappers have heavy mercurial placements (virgo and gemini) (3h and 6h)

- mc aspecting venus in anyway is usually the person who fools around with coworkers/may even cheat on a partner with someone they work with. most people with this placement have definitely had a partner at one point or another worried about someone they work with. may be the type to have a “work wife”/“work husband”

- 6h chiron is the person who’s life has been majorly impacted by their own or someone else’s health. disabilities, chronic illnesses, stds, limb amputation, skin grafts, etc.

- aries moon and mercury combo = bad potty mouth, cursing is an almost unbreakable habit

- speaking of aries! aries and aquarius placements together in any of these ➡️ moon, venus, mars, lilith, pluto ➡️ usually have a tendency to jump around from partner to partner very quickly, including falling back into exes. their thoughts and opinions on people and things change SO quickly that they usually are the kind of people who have rosters (unintentionally). they are upfront, they don’t lie or drag anyone along but they do seem to be restless when it comes to romance. even if they don’t physically date a lot, they may often THINK of it, their minds going a million miles a minute

- geminis do not get the rep they deserve for being freaks. not only does the sign traditionally rule the throat/lungs/hands/nervous system, (choking, breath play, hickies, hand fetish/fingering, blindfolding and sub/dom dynamics) but it’s also ruled by the lovers card in tarot 👁️👁️

- fixed signs 🤝 tattoos

- sagittarius/capricorn/pisces/libra placements usually have issues with religion/spirituality growing up. either they were forced into one as kids and they have an unhealthy relationship with their god now as an adult or they simply struggle to find something that feels true to them. this is just my experience but every single friend i’ve had who’s left the christian church, had an interest in paganism/buddhism, joined the satanic temple, grew up as strict catholics, etc, have had these placements. religion is a revolving door for them and it’s a common subject of struggle in their life

- women with pisces placements tend fall into unhealthy relationships very easily, especially if they’re heterosexual and dating men. they fall in love with the idea of love before the actual person presenting it. they are bossed around very easy and usually don’t like confrontation. honorable mentions for this as well: pisces stellium, cancer stellium/mercury/saturn, 7h saturn

- cheesy hallmark movies make me think of taurus/libra venus placements, 7h venus as well

- 5h cancer/moon/venus, cancer rising/moon dom, 5h/8h synastry aspects please be wary of accidental pregnancies! wrap it before you tap it cause y’all extra fertile 💀

- most well known streamers/youtubers have 10h stelliums, including their venus. a lot of them will end up dating another social media presence/someone who shares a platform/job with them

yay first post! pardon any spelling errors i’m proof reading this half asleep ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

#astrology #astrology observations #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aqaurius #pisces #stellium #capricornneptune #10hstellium #7h saturn

1K notes · View notes

captain-huggy-bear · 13 days ago

Text

The Puck-cident

Pairing: Clayton Keller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Blood, vomit, injury, hurt/comfort

Summary: You are the unfortunate soul that takes a puck to the face during one of Utah's games, Clayton sees whole thing and demands to be let off the ice.

Notes: By popular demand I have finally gotten around to this fic ☺️This turned out to be like 5.5k so...enjoy?

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

Everyone always knows there's a risk involved with sitting in the audience at an ice hockey game. The announcers at every game never fail to remind people that pucks can travel at well over 80mph and can go into the audience. Always reminding people to keep their eyes on the puck. But, no one actually ever thinks it'll hit them. You've seen your fair share of pucks caught in the crowds, you've never seen someone get injured.

You've been to so many ice hockey games that maybe you've been lulled into a false sense of security, a sense that nothing bad could possible happen to you, not when you're sat in the stands to watch your boyfriend play. Not when you're wearing his jersey, Keller plastered across the back, number 9 bold and clear. Not when you feel so at home in that space, so secure. Turns out you're terribly wrong.

Normally Clayton's eyes wouldn't have followed the puck as it went out of bounds, normally he'd have sighed and moved to the new faceoff circle, caring very little for what fan had managed to catch it. Normally, he'd be more concerned with the fact that they were in a two goal deficit. But, something made him stop on the ice today, something made him follow the puck with his eyes to its end destination. Eyes widening in horror as the scene started to play in slow motion while he was utterly helpless on the ice, stood there with his grip slacking on his stick.

Clayton never imagined that it would be dangerous for you to come to one of his games because fans getting hit by pucks? Getting genuinely hurt? That seemed like such a fluke incident and you'd never been hurt before, not in all the years you'd been coming to his games. Even before you were with him you'd gone to ice hockey games, not once had you had an issue. But, it sinks in, the reality of it, that it does happen and can happen to you. That it's happening to you right now and he can't do anything to stop it.

The piece of vulcanised rubber that had flown off the stick of the opposing team flies over the glass into the stands and he watches like some sort car crash, a sick slow motion view as the puck finds you, like your name was written on it. It's hard to tell from this distance how hurt you are, or where you were hit, but he can see the crowd writhing around you, the panicked yells telling him enough.

Enough that Clayton's skating towards the bench as fast as he can, shrugging off teammates and referees who try to insist he stays, who keep asking him what's wrong and where he's going. His coach tries the same, stepping in his path, confused as to where Clay's off to in the middle of a game as the captain of the team.

"Keller, what do you think you're doing?"

"Respectfully, Bear, my girlfriend just got hit by a puck going nearly 90mph. I'm going to see if she's alright." His tone is short, clipped, trying to be respectful of his coach, a man he does respect and admire. But he's made up his mind and nothing and no one is going to stop him from going to you right now. He'd sooner quite hockey entirely than play a whole game unsure if you're alright after being injured.

"Keller, the game..."

"Fuck the game, you've got enough players. I need to see her, coach." Maybe it's the wild look in his eyes, the way panic stands out stark and clear. Maybe it's the tense set of his shoulders or the fact that his stick creaks so hard under his grip that it sounds like it may crack. Whatever it is, he isn't yelled at like he expects, no one tells him to go back out on the ice.

Instead Tourigny steps aside letting him past as Clayton storms down the tunnel, passing his stick off to someone. He's barely aware of the fact he takes off his skates, shoving them in someone's arms before he's running out towards the entrance to the stands in just his socks, the only thought on his mind being you and whether you were okay right now.

It's hard to describe what goes through your head when you see the puck coming straight for you, a blind sort of panic that has you freezing in your seat, not that you had anywhere to go to avoid it, not at the speed it had come at you. You're in such shock that you don't really feel much after the initial impact, head buzzing and dazed, neck hurting from the snap of your head backwards, ears ringing as people around you start fussing over you. Someone has you up out of your seat, your arm around their shoulders helping you out of the stands. The feeling of wetness glides down your temple and you raise a hand to your face that comes away red, noticing almost numbly that you're bleeding, blood running down the side of your face, upset because it starts to drip on Clay's jersey, the white one he'd lent you. The fabric being stained, ruined.

"Keller has left the ice, rather abruptly, we're unsure if it's related to the fan in the crowd who's taken a puck to the head or not." Someone has the game station on, clearly enjoying having the commentators speak during the game, the crowd is so loud as you're all but hauled up the stairs to the exit of the stands. You have just enough awareness to wonder if Clayton had seen you get hit or whether he'd been hurt on the ice himself or wasn't feeling well.

You feel like you're going to be sick as you're helped into the main entrance of the arena, lights blinding you, head pounding, the numbness starting to fade in favour of such blistering, aching pain in your head that you can't help but start crying. You feel pathetic, scared, panicked and in pain. You just want Clayton but he should be playing a game right now and the realisation that you couldn't have him with you only makes you cry harder.

It turned into full on sobs when your dizzy, double vision locks on to Clay who's running in just a pair of socks towards you, frantic, helmet being tossed behind him to someone. There's two of him, your vision going in and out but you're so happy to see him that it doesn't matter. So happy that he's here that you can almost ignore the pain, the nausea, and the blood.

He's got you in his arms before you can even comprehend reaching for him, whoever had helped you this far taking a step back to let him take over. He's petrified, you look horrific, blood coating the side of your face and neck, red clotting around your temple. Your eyes unfocused, the white of his jersey bloodstained, tears streaming down your face and he knows someone's calling the first aid team, but it doesn't reassure him when you look like that.

Clay's hands cup the sides your face, your blood is sticky against his palm and he knows he shouldn't be, knows its not anyone's real fault, but he's irrationally angry. Angry at the other team for sending the puck off into the stands, angry at you for always insisting you sit like a normal fan rather than in the box for family and friends, angry at himself for not insisting, angry at Tourigny for trying to stop him from coming to find you, angry that he wasn't with you when it happened. Angry because the alternative is fear and he's not sure he's ready to feel that right now, not sure he can, needing to keep it together for you because you're still crying, clutching onto him like he's the only thing that can bring you comfort right now. He can't help the way he grips you back tightly, trying to reassure himself that you're okay, even as blood keeps flowing from the split skin of your temple.

"You're going to be okay, baby, I've got you...It's okay." It's not, fuck, it's not, but he's trying to stay calm for you, a blank mask on his face rather than blind panic as he watches a stretcher be wheeled towards you. Runs his fingers through your hair in an attempt to soothe you and himself at the same time, he knows his hands are shaking so fucking badly and he hopes you don't notice, hope you feel reassured by him, feel like he's steady, stable.

"We need her on the stretcher, Keller, so we can have a look at her." Clay's attention goes to the first aiders behind you, the stretcher pulled close enough that all you have to do is step back and jump up.

"It hurts, Clay..." You're sniffling into his shoulder, blood getting on the jersey he's wearing, not that he cares. The equipment team are used to getting blood out of things. Two bloody jerseys is nothing in the grand scheme of things.

"I know, baby, oh, I know...I'm just going to give you a little boost up, okay? We're going to get you sat up here, okay?" He talks you through each step as his hands find your waist, helping you jump up onto the stretcher. The movement makes you dizzy, nausea filling you to the point where you know you're going to be sick, desperately trying to keep it in, being unable to. You can't help it when you're sick...all over Clay, head leaning forward between your legs as you vomit over his legs, whimpering as you do so.

"I'm sorry...I've got blood on your jersey and now..." You're crying harder now, embarrassment and shame added to the whole issue because you've just vomited over your boyfriend's expensive hockey gear after bleeding over 2 different jerseys. But, Clay doesn't flinch, hands stroking your hair as you lean forward to quell the dizziness. Is it gross? Oh, totally, does he actually care? Not really. It's testament to how much he loves you that the grossness doesn't matter, he'd let you vomit on him a million times so long as he can look after you in the process.

"It's okay, baby, I need you to lay back, okay? They're going to check on your head..." His hands are gentle on your shoulders, pushing you back while helping you swing your legs straight on the stretcher. Clay's fingers brush back your hair as he looks down at your hazy gaze, "I need to go change real quick and I'll be right back, sweet girl."

When he goes to step back you're grabbing his hand with the precision of a star goalie, even with the double vision and haziness you manage to find his hand. The grip you have on him is so tight, scared for him to leave you, scared you'll be alone like this. Even as you know he's covered in blood and vomit and needs to change, deserves to change.

He's right back to stroking your cheek, backs of his fingers gentle on your skin like he's afraid you might break, "I'll be right back, you're not going anywhere without me."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

He tells the medical staff not to go anywhere with you without him. The fear of coming back to find you gone roiling in his stomach, not really wanting to leave you alone but knowing he can't stand here covered in sick. He's so quick, running down the corridors to the locker room to limit how long he's gone. The speed with which he takes off the vomit soaked clothes and sweat stained uniform is probably record breaking and despite the smell of sick he doesn't even contemplate a shower, just throws on some old sweats and a t-shirt, shoving his feet into a pair of sneakers before bolting back to where he left you. He can take a shower later, once he knows you're okay, once you're both back home.

You're lying back on the stretcher with one of the first aiders, Clay thinks his name is John, leaning over you, shining a torch in your eyes to check for a concussion when Clay returns. He can tell already that you have one between the dizziness, vomiting and the way you seem to wince at any and all light. It doesn't take a genius to realise the puck to the face has rocked your brain a little too hard.

The middle age first aid looks up at Clayton as he finishes checking you over, Clay coming up on your other side to grab your hand again. The way you look at him, so trusting, so happy to just have him back makes his heart skip a little even as it breaks at how tired and in pain you look.

"She has a concussion and needs stitches, we're not allowed to do them here as she's a member of the public, she needs to go to hospital. It might also be a good idea to get an x-ray, make sure she's not got a fracture or anything like that." John turns to Clayton, pocketing the flashlight. It's not what he wants to hear, Clay would rather hear that you're perfectly fine, but it's obvious you're not. Still panic closes his throat at the thought that you might have something even more seriously like a fracture or worse.

"Does she need an ambulance or can I drive her?" Either way Clayton's coming with you, whether in the back of an ambulance or in the driver's seat of his car. He'll deal with the aftermath of leaving the game later, but right now? You're his priority and he's not leaving you.

"Probably quicker for you to take her yourself, Keller. I can help you wheel her to your car?"

"Thanks, that'd be great, John."

"No problem."

Clay has your hand in his, walking alongside the stretcher as John wheels it down to the parking lot. You're dazed and slightly giddy, laughing at each bump despite the pain and that's more concerning to Clay than the crying. A cloth has been put to your head, held there by your free hand, knuckles tight like you're working off instinct just to keep it there. He's not sure you'd be able to release it with how tight your grip is. He knows head wounds bleed a lot, but that doesn't make seeing the cloth already red with blood, any easier or less worrying.

Clayton's decided he has a new appreciation for how you feel whenever he gets injured on the ice. It's...God, it might be one of the worst things he's ever had to go through.

He's proven right, that you can't seem to let that cloth go when he helps you down from the stretcher and to his car, your hand doesn't move, cloth pressed to stem the flow of blood even when you stumble. He has you in the passenger seat and buckled in as quickly as possible and maybe he breaks a few traffic laws on the way to the hospital, but anyone would. The way you're barely there next to him, so dazed that he's worried the concussion might be something more has him pressing a little harder on the accelerator.

The blood is enough in the emergency room for you to be fast tracked to a doctor and a bed, struggling to sit upright he makes the decision to get up on the bed with you. You rest between his legs, leaning back on him heavily, Clayton the only thing keep you sat upright as the doctor, Dr Pandya, pries the cloth from your hand and assesses the wound.

You shy back into him when the doctor wipes away at the large cut with antiseptic to clean away the blood, only for more to come spilling forth. Clay's arms wrapping tight around your waist, linking your hands with his to give you something to grip onto.

"You need stitches, it's not going to close on its own."

"Okay..." He can tell you're trying to be brave, breathing suddenly heavier, fingers tightening around his until his own start to go numb, but he doesn't complain. Just lets you lean on him, seek support from him.

You're brave throughout the 14 stitches it takes to close up the cut on your temple, more stitches than you've ever had to have in your life. But, you don't complain, don't ask to stop, don't hiss, just let it happen as you grip onto Clay with everything you have. The warmth of his back behind you, his chin resting on your shoulder, pressing kisses to your neck, helps. Having him with you helps.

"All done. You have a concussion and need to rest for at least 2 days before you do anything. Avoid bright lights, loud areas. Keep those stitches dry for at least a day, so no washing your hair just yet unfortunately. If it starts to bruise, ice it."

The doctors turns to Clay this time, "If she starts to seem confused, keeps vomiting or just doesn't seem to be getting any better then bring her back in. But she should be tired for the next few days but start to feel better soon."

"Thank you," You're quiet but polite, not wanting to be rude when someone has taken the time to help you even if it is the doctor's job to do so.

"Thanks, Doc."

There's a quick sort of turn around in which Clay fills out the necessary paper work, financial details, insurance and the like before he's helping you up and out of emergency room.

All you want is to sleep, curl up in bed with Clayton and hide from the pounding in your head, the bright lights and loud sounds of the outside world only making it worse.

He's calmer on the drive home, no more traffic laws being broken even if he grips the steering wheel a little tight and keeps glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, assessing. Some of the panic has eased, but not all. You're still hurt. Concussed, stitched up, definitely going to bruise and swell, and in need of rest. Rest he can't be there for the entire time because of his job. He might have gotten away with leaving the game tonight, but he knows he'll be expected at practice tomorrow, knows he'll be expected at the home game the day after and that means hours of time in which you're alone. He hates the idea of it, already running through a mental list of people he could call.

"I got blood on your jersey..." You're sniffling again when he pulls the car into the driveway, putting it in park. He turns in his seat, leaning an arm on the headrest to watch you. You're staring at the blood stains on the jersey you're wearing, tears dripping down your cheeks and it's...it's so silly and so sweet that some of that panic eases further.

"It's okay, baby, the equipment guys can get the blood out."

"Really?" You look at him so hopefully, so innocently happy. He hates that your reaction is like that because of your injury, at the same time finding it amusing, a small smile reaching his lips for the first time since he saw you take a puck to the face.

"Yeah, baby, they're great at that..."

"Oh..."

There's a beat of silence where you just blink at him, sighing out each breath like even that's too tiring right now. There's blood crusted around your stitches that he knows you're going to get annoyed with while you can't get water near them, bruising starting to pop up around that side of your face, swelling beginning to show and make you look a little lopsided.

"Let's get you inside and into some comfy clothes, yeah? You tired?"

"Really tired..." You blink all slow at him, eyelids feeling supremely heavy and he knows you're going to be out like a light the moment he gets you into the bed. That's reassuring in a way, that you'll find it easy to rest, at least tonight, before the aches fully settle in.

He's tries to be quick getting round to your side of the car but he's starting to feel just as tired. A combination of playing half a game of pro-hockey, the anxiety, panic and worry over your wellbeing, being thrown up on, going all the way to hospital and back, all working to make Clayton feel like dropping where he stands. But, like always you're his priority.

His hands reach for yours, tugging gently to pull you from the car, "Okay, out you get, baby." You go willingly, letting him guide you from the car and through the house. Letting your brain shut off because he's got you. You trust him to guide you around obstacles, through doorways, a level of trust that Clayton can't help but feel honoured by as you let him sit you on the edge of your shared bed.

You blink up at him all slow and sleepy, shoulders slumping and he's certain if you laid down you'd be out in seconds.

"Arms up, baby." You don't question him, don't hesitate, arms straight in the air with the sort of sluggishness that tells him even doing that feels hard right now.

Clay's careful of your hair and your stitches as he pulls the bloodstained jersey over your head, throwing it in a corner to take back to the rink to salvage. You leave your hands up as he helps you out of your undershirt and replaces it with one of your favourite big comfy t-shirts. You don't drop your arms until he tells you to, the sort of obedience you fall into around him because he takes care of you so well that you trust him more than you trust yourself.

"Wanna shower..."

"You can't get your stitches wet yet, sweet girl, tomorrow night I'll help you shower, but not tonight, okay?"

"Okay..." He knows you hate it, your routine is like clockwork. Every evening you shower, washing the dirt and grime of the day away, and breaking that is upsetting to you. But, you trust him. You listen without protest and let him lay you back so he can wriggle your jeans down over your hips and off your ankles, socks coming with.

"Up for me, baby." You reach for him from the first word, arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his chains as he lifts you to your feet, keeping an arm wrapped around your waist as he pulls the covers back.

He settles you in against your pillow, swinging your legs up and pulling the covers up to your waist as you cling to him. Your fingers don't detach from his chains, holding tight to him so that he can't pull away, hovering over you.

He's so handsome, maybe it's the concussion talking, but he's always so handsome. Your free hand reaches for his cheek, tracing the skin beneath his eyes and he can't help but smile at you, at the soft way you're gazing up at him. Still dazed, but oh so loving.

"You okay, baby?" He huffs a laugh down at you, teeth peeking out and you love that smile, god it makes him so pretty. So, so pretty. Even prettier when one of his hands cups your cheek like that, long finger stroking the skin gently where your cheek lifts from grinning up at him all dozy.

"Mmm, you're really pretty."

"I think that's your concussion talking, sweet girl." His fingers graze the swollen skin by your stitches lightly, not hard enough to hurt or sting, but a reminder to himself that you've got 14 stitches right now. That right now you're brain is a little scrambled.

"Nuh uh...you're always pretty...I got really lucky." You might be concussed but you know it's true. Clayton's so handsome you spend half your time wondering how you managed to bag him because he could have any woman he wanted and instead he chose you. This handsome, beautiful, kind, caring man, a pro-athlete, and he chose you. Normal, little old you.

"Wrong way around, I'm the lucky one. You took a puck to the face for me, that's pretty hardcore, baby." The blood around your stitches is dry and flaky, proof that today wasn't just a dream or imaginary. Proof that his girlfriend had taken a puck to the face, survived and only vomited once, pretty hardcore.

"Didn't mean to..."

"I know...it worried me though, just glad you're okay."

His fingers caress your skin as silence over takes the two of you, just gazing at each other as each of you feel the other under your fingers. To feel the way you graze the tip of his nose, how you tug a little on his chains to bring him just an inch closer. It's grounding to have you in his hands like that, to feel your warmth, to know you're going to be fine even if he'd been scared today. The whole thing has just solidified in his mind how much he loves you, how much he'd be willing to do for you, to give up for you. That you're it for him whether you realise that or not.

You take a shuddering breath, eyes shifting away from his like you're embarrassed by what you're going to say next even as your fingers tighten around his chains and keep him close. His blue eyes fixed on you, attention unwavering and loyal.

"I was...I was scared I'd be alone...just wanted you..." Your head isn't quite as fuzzy as earlier, but you can remember it clearly. Feeling the panic at the thought that you wanted Clay but he wouldn't be there...then the joy at seeing him, the relief as he ran out in full gear except skates, socks only on his feet.

"You thought I wouldn't be there?"

"You had a game...a-and I didn't know if you'd seen it happen...thought you'd still be playing." It's like you're ashamed for thinking he wouldn't be there, and while he hates that you did, he understands why. There was no guarantee he'd have even know you were hurt, it was just by some fluke of luck, by sheer chance that he'd actually watched the puck fly into the crowd for once. Even then, in some arenas would he have even been able to tell it was you?

"They'd have had to chain me to Schmaltz to keep me on the ice, baby. Always going to be there for you, no matter what. You first. Hockey second." He means it. Hockey has been his life since he could put on a pair of skates, and he'd worked hard for it, always having to do 10 times what the bigger guys did and do it 10 times better. But, you? You're it for him you'll be it for him when he retires from hockey, when he can no longer play and that? That's worth more than a game, even a game he loves. It's practically a proposal in itself, a promise to you because he never wants you to think he'd pick the game over you, especially not when you're hurt.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." The smile you give him is blinding, so full of love that he wants to bottle it, memorise it to keep for those bad days. For the days when they've lost a game, for the times when he needs a reminder to keep pushing, to keep going.

"Come to bed?" You try to tug him again by his chains but he unfurls your fingers gentle, one by one, smoothing over your knuckles in reassurance.

"I've got to shower baby, but I don't want to leave you alone..." The idea of taking his eyes off you, of not being able to see that you're okay for even a minute makes him feel sick.

"You smell like vomit..." You wrinkle up your nose, scrunching your face like you've only just realise that he smells. Your hands pushing on his shoulders a little, moving him away rather than closer and he can't say he blames you. Even he's over the smell now.

"That's your fault, baby."

"'m sorry..." You mumble, warmth flooding your face at the memory of throwing up on him, his hockey gear taking the brunt of it rather than the floor.

"It's okay, I'll go shower, but you'll okay if I leave you for a few minutes?"

You nod your head gently, carefully because nodding too much hurts right now. Clayton presses a quick kiss to your forehead, avoiding the swollen areas of your face before leaving you.

He's no nonsense about it all, washing with a precision and speed that would make the army consider recruiting him. He's thorough, however, skin scrubbed down until he smells like your vanilla body wash and not vomit.

Clay doesn't faff with clothes, just shoves a pair of boxers on and curls up next to you, you're already asleep, mouth open slightly, the tiniest hint of drool at the corners. Endearing. He wraps an arm around your waist, dragging you gently closer until he can curl around you like that might keep you safe from any further puck based incidents.

Clay doesn't sleep...not well at least. He spends half the night just watching you breathe, scared that if he closes his eyes something might happen. A total of 3 hours all he gets, so when the doorbell rings shrill and loud at 7am all he can do is groan loudly and burrow his face into your shoulder.

The doorbell rings again and he's swearing under his breath because if it's a sales person or a cold caller he might actually commit a crime. All he wants it to stay curled up with you, maybe get some more sleep now you seem a little perkier, eyes blinking open and more coherent than they were yesterday.

"Clay...the door." It's your worry about ignoring it that has him groaning, stretching and shoulders popping as he stumbles out of bed.

"I know, baby...stay here."

He doesn't even bother putting on clothes, just walks to the door in his boxers. Your head might still be fuzzy but you can't help the way your eyes trail over his back, the way his arse looks in his boxes, the thick set of his thighs. You're almost certain he puts an extra little saunter in his step because you're watching.

He kind of hopes whoever has disturbed his rest with his injured girlfriend gets the shock of their life seeing him open the door in just his boxers. Unfortunately, it's just Kesselring, who has seen him in his boxers more times than he can count, completely unphased.

"What're you doing here, Kess?"

"Came to check on Mrs Keller and brought a gift," The taller man holds up a little gift bag and as much as Clayton wants to slam the door in his face he doesn't, just stepping aside to let Kess in.

He leads him to you, where you're wrapped up in all the bed blankets, making yourself a little cocoon and your face brightens at seeing one of your favourite members of his team. Kess is only your favourite because he lets you go round to see the cats whenever you want, whether he's there or not. Or that's what Clayton says to ease any of that ugly little jealous side he has that occasionally rears it's head. Even knowing that Kess treats you more like a sister than anything else.

"For you Mrs Keller," Kess hands you the gift bag even as you swat at him weakly. He'd been calling you that ever since Clayton announced you were dating...the alternative wasn't much better, referring to you as the team mom because Clayton was the team dad.

"Thank you, Michael," You pull out a wad of tissue paper, unfurling it to reveal the last thing Clayton ever wanted to see.

"You brought the thing that nearly killed my girlfriend into the house?" He's actually irrationally angry at the rubber. The black has been cleaned, not a speak of your blood on it and the edge has been covered in white stick tape. In black sharpie, 'the puck-cident March 2025' has been written in Kess' chicken scratch handwriting.

"Kells, it's a puck."

"It nearly killed my girlfriend. It's evil." He sneers at the inanimate object in your hands.

"Clay," you're laughing at him, giggling at the way he glares at a piece of rubber, "It's sweet...Michael, it's very sweet." You turn to the taller man, smiling up at him because it is thoughtful in a weird sort of hockey logic way. To bring you the puck that gave you 14 stitches, like it was some gaming winning puck you scored with.

"Well, figured you might want a souvenir from your puck-cident," Kess grins at both you, the pun so bad that Clayton and yourself are both groaning at him.

Clayton pointing to the door, this time with humour in voice, head shaking, "Out! That was so fucking bad, man!"

"I'm going, cap, Jesus! A guy can't do anything nice these days! What a pucking crime!"

"Kess!"

#huggy bear writes #clayton keller x reader #clayton keller/reader #nhl imagine #nhl x reader

334 notes · View notes

soobnny · 8 months ago

Text

dating him | han jisung

❝ you found my heart broken and you helped me make it whole again ❞

i think you’re a second love type situation for han jisung

the one where he thought he’d never recover from his first heartbreak

but then here u come

i think han’s the type of person to feel everything

if he’s in love, he’s in LOVE

and if he’s hurt, it would just be overwhelming pain

so imagine how he was when he got his first heartbreak

he’d lose a little bit of his spark

maybe keep to himself even more than he used to

u come to his life in the form of a friend first

and han has unknowingly planted a seed that’s grown and grown and grown

with every interaction

with every laugh you’ve brought back

with every moment he was coming out of his shell again

until it’s fully bloomed into a love that’s very very real and very very present

han jisung would also love so beautifully

he knows what it’s like to be hurt, and he doesn’t ever want u to feel that same pain

he rly makes efforts

he is FULL of efforts

and he makes u laugh ☹️☹️☹️☹️

he communicates

and when the boys finally meet u, they’re very grateful but also

????!!!! why do u they know ur favorite color

and ur go-to order at the cafe

and the hoodie u like to steal from jisung the most

well turns out, han loves talking about u to his friends

they just know everything about u before even meeting u

he’d get rly shy about it but never embarrassed

he’d tell the whole world about u if he could

what else can i tell u

han jisung is just someone where nothing sounds crazy to him

so i think all ur dates with him would be so fun and adventurous lowk

amusement parks !!!!!

ice skating and roller blading

both of u would fall on ur ass

but you’d also laugh so much and somehow that makes up for everything

you’d be holding hands and skating with each other and looking at each other with lovesick smiles

I FEEL SICK!!!!!!!!

he’s always trying to impress u too

he tries to imitate figure skaters

kids don’t try this at home

ofc he fails miserably

obvious blushes when you’d tell him he was cute for trying

or when you’d praise him

anyways when i said he’s always trying to impress u i mean ALWAYS

he treats the relationship like he’s still pining after you

being the standard fr

he never lets go of the love

sometimes he’d still get shy to ask u out

somehow he doesn’t believe u actually said yes to him

he thinks he’s the luckiest boy

anyways, aside from adventurous dates, he equally values his inside time and quieter dates

he’s thankful u understand his shifts in his energy

on days u stay inside, you’d probably watch horror movies

look…. he suggests it….

it looked cool in his head to be all protective

you’d hold onto his arm when the jumpscares come

but

womp womp

he ends up being more afraid than u

and now HE’S holding ur arm

yeah it looked way cooler in his head

you’d play silly little board games together

or maybe charades

he’s so easily amused by sexual innuendos

he’s just a man guys

anyways

there are two things he loves to steal from u the most

aside from ur kisses

and it’s (1) ur perfume and (2) ur lip balm

u’d catch him putting on ur perfume just bc he wants to be surrounded by ur scent

it’s very comforting

one time, he was sick and the boys were taking care of him

and when u finally had time to take over and care for ur bf

u just …. smell ur perfume

“did you put on my perfume?”

“i missed you ☹️☹️☹️☹️”

DOWN BADDDDD

he’s so pouty and so cute

let’s suffocate him with the pillow

KIDDINGGGGGG KIDDING

and then ur lip balm

sometimes he steals the actual thing

sometimes he kisses you so he can have it on his lips too

han jisung is also the type to avail every possible couple coupon

and he’s always begging the cashiers to let u prove u’re a couple

it’s so he has an excuse to kiss you

months into dating him also means a thousand love letters

he loves writing u love letters

and u know sooner that he also writes songs

on ur anniversary, he reveals a song he’s written for you

and when he proposes, he tells u about every single one he’d ever written about you and for you

wish that were me 😂😂😂😂😂

TAKE CARE OF HIM

note. credits to user @.luvknow for the layout of this post! let me know what you think! please discuss these with me i’m crazy

832 notes · View notes

sweetlyxaqq09 · 18 days ago

Text

THE KILLER'S PAUSE

Pairing: fem!reader x sunwon

Summary- When two ghostface killers, Sunoo and Jungwon, kill for fun but get distracted by one of their victims.

Mentions: violence, bullying, death, psychotic, rough!sex, knifeplay, blood, psychological horror, threesome, hairpulling, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, blowjob, fear play, dark manipulation, toxic behavior, talking through orgasm, sadism, passing out, slapping, nipple play, eating cum, choking , terrifying ending, mean!sunwon.

Author's note- Hi! This is my very first time writing a fanfic, so please show a lot of love.♡Please ignore any grammatical mistakes, as English is not my first language.This fanfic is inspired by the movie Scream, though the Ghostface elements are less prominent.If you don’t enjoy this type of fanfic, please kindly back off.Hate comments will be deleted!

For better experience play this playlist♡

___________________________________________

Sunoo's expression twisted with frustration, the knife glinting in his hand as he leaned closer to the girl. "For fuck sake, stop moving. You're only making it harder on yourself, It’s only going to make things worse for you." he hissed through gritted teeth, his eyes narrowing.

Jungwon, standing just a step away, glanced over at Sunoo before looking back at the girl with a detached expression. " i don't know why we are still playing with her?" Just end it already. I’m getting bored. She's all broken now"

The girl's breathing quickened, her throat tight with fear. She strained against the grip on her leg, desperation fueling her every movement. "Please..." she choked out, her voice shaking, "I'm begging you... don't do this...

The air in the room grew heavier, as if the very walls were closing in. The girl, trembling on the cold floor, tried to shuffle away, but sunoo grabbed her by the ankle, pulling her back toward him with an unsettling ease. He hovered over her, his expression unreadable, and slowly traced the edge of the knife near her collarbone, letting the sharp tip graze her skin without making contact.

His voice was low, almost a whisper,

"You should have stayed still. Now you're just... a target."

Jungwon clicked his tongue, stepping closer and circling her like a predator. "It's almost sad, you know?" he said, his voice calm and methodical. "You were so pretty when we brought you here. But now you're just a mess. Dirty and Worthless."

Jungwon's gaze piercing through the girl. He seemed bored, waiting for something to happen. "I'm just done with her, Sunoo. Do it already."

Sunoo glanced at Jungwon, who had been watching in silence, waiting for the moment to end. "You want to take care of it, Jungwon?" Sunoo asked with a smirk, enjoying the sick game.

Jungwon shrugged nonchalantly, his expression unwavering. "Nah, I'm good. Let's just finish it. It's taking too long."

The girl’s breathing quickened as she realized the depth of their cold indifference. She flinched when Sunoo’s knife brushed dangerously close to her skin. She could hear his quiet chuckle as he dragged the blade lower, almost playfully, while Jungwon leaned in with a sinister calmness, watching her every move.

Sunoo stabbed her several times, each blow weakening her until she could no longer move. Her body went limp, and her breath slowed to nothing. Sunoo stepped back, staring down at her, his face cold and expressionless for a moment. Then, a small, unsettling smile crept across his lips.

She was dead now. The pain had stopped, the struggle had ended, and there was nothing left but silence. Her body lay still, no more painfull moans or gasps for breath, no more attempts to fight back. Her body, now still and unrecognizable from the person she had been moments before, lay lifeless on the ground.

She wasn’t much fun," sunoo said, his voice dripping with indifference. "Kept moving, making it harder to enjoy the whole thing. I didn’t even get one clean stab."

Sunoo shrugged, unfazed. "No big deal. We’ll find someone else. Clean up the mess and get rid of her. I’m going to find someone more... entertaining."

Jungwon nodded, his expression neutral. "Yup, I’ll take care of it."

sunoo wandered through the forest, looking for the next victim to play with. His eyes scanning the shadows, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his lips. Then, he spotted her—a girl, lost and disoriented, stumbling through the trees. She looked like an easy target, and he saw an opportunity.

Y/N, her voice trembling, called out into the darkness, "Hey! Do you know where the road goes? I’ve been wandering through this creepy forest for more than an hour. I came with my friends for camping, but I got separated, and now it’s late... Can you help me?"

Sunoo stepped closer, his voice calm, almost too sweet. “Of course, I can help. It’s dangerous out here at night.” He took a deliberate step forward, his eyes dark with an unsettling gleam. "It’s too late to be out here alone. Why don’t you come to my place? You can rest, get warm, and in the morning, we can figure out how to get you back to your friends."

Y/N hesitated, her heart racing as her instincts screamed at her to be cautious. She was alone, lost in the dark, but something in his words felt almost... soothing.

Sunoo, sensing her hesitation, stepped even closer, his smile widening. “Come on, just for one night. It’s dark, and you don’t know what could happen to you out here. I could help... you just have to trust me.”

Y/N felt the tension in the air, her mind battling between fear and need for safety. She wasn’t sure, but the temptation of warmth and shelter was too strong. “O-okay,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sunoo chuckled softly, his eyes flickering with something darker now. "Good choice. Trust me, you'll be safer with me."

Sunoo walked alongside her through the forest, his voice sweet but his words carrying an unsettling weight. “It’s good that you trusted me, you know. A lot of people wouldn’t have, but you did. Smart choice.”

Y/N glanced at him, a shiver creeping up her spine, but she tried to brush it off. “I don’t know... I was just worried about being lost out here alone.”

Sunoo’s eyes narrowed slightly, his smile never fading. “You should be. The woods aren’t safe at night. Especially with things like... him, lurking around.”

Y/N frowned, her steps slowing. “Who? What do you mean by ‘things like him’?”

Sunoo leaned in closer, lowering his voice as though sharing a secret. “There’s a killer roaming around. He wears a ghost face mask—completely black clothing, and he’s always carrying a sharp knife. There’s no telling when he might strike.”

Y/N laughed nervously, but a knot formed in her stomach. “A killer? Are you serious? That sounds like something out of a horror movie. You’re messing with me, right?”

Sunoo’s face remained serious, his eyes gleaming with a strange intensity. “I’m serious. People go missing around here. It’s better to be cautious.”

Y/N stopped walking for a moment, a chill running through her veins. “Are you... are you saying that killer could be around here right now?”

Sunoo grinned slightly, his voice almost playful. “Maybe. You never know, do you?”

Y/N tried to laugh it off, but her heartbeat quickened, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. She glanced around the dark trees, a sense of paranoia settling in. “So... are you telling me that killer is nearby?” she said jokingly.

Sunoo’s smile widened, his eyes glinting “Maybe. It could be me also. After all, I’ve got the mask, the knife... I could be the one you’ve been running from all along.”

Y/N felt a wave of unease wash over her. “I think you’re joking, but it’s not funny anymore.”

Sunoo stopped walking, turning to face her fully. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m not joking. And you should really be careful. Who knows? Maybe you’re walking right into it.”

The air grew colder, and Y/N’s footsteps faltered as she turned around, suddenly feeling like she was being watched. Was it just her imagination, or was something moving in the shadows? Her heart pounded louder in her chest.

She spun around quickly, sunoo was gone. A sickening sense of fear gripped her as she stood frozen. The sound of her racing heartbeat filled her ears. She didn’t know what was real anymore. Was he messing with her? Or was it something more?

Then, from behind her, Sunoo’s voice called out, almost as if from a distance. “I’m coming for you!” With a knife in his hand and with the ghost face costume exactly like how sunoo told y/n about.

Desperately, she turned and began running. Her breath came in sharp gasps, and the darkness around her seemed to close in as the trees blurred by. She didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. The thought of being out there, alone in the woods with... whatever that was, was too terrifying.

The chase was on as she heard Sunoo's psychotic laughter echoing through the dark forest, sending chills down her spine.

Y/N’s breath came in ragged gasps as her legs burned with exhaustion. Her pace had slowed, no matter how much she willed herself to keep running. Sunoo was right behind her now, his presence suffocating.

Before she could take another step, a sharp yank on her hair sent her crashing to the ground. A sharp cry escaped her lips as her body hit the dirty ground.

"Aww, poor thing" Sunoo mocked. He leaned down, his voice dripping with amusement. "I have to admit, watching you struggle was entertaining.'"

As Y/N struggled to regain her strength, she suddenly pushed herself up and bolted, her legs moving faster than she thought possible. The sudden burst of energy caught Sunoo off guard, his smirk faltering for a split second as he watched her slip from his grasp.

She ran, the adrenaline pushing her forward until she saw it—a house in the distance with lights on. She made a beeline for it, her feet pounding against the earth, until she reached the front door and banged desperately on it.

Sunoo whispered to himself, "Ah... now this is where the real fun begins." He let out a dark chuckle, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "You just made this easier for me... No more games now.

The door creaked open, revealing Jungwon, looking startled but confused. “Who are you? Are you okay? What’s going on?”

Y/N, panting heavily, barely able to get the words out, stammered, “Someone... someone chased me! They were wearing a ghost face mask, He tried to kill me!”

Jungwon’s brow furrowed in confusion. “A ghost face mask? Are you sure?”

Y/N nodded frantically, her hands shaking. “Yes! It’s real! He was right behind me!”

Jungwon stepped back slightly, his face becoming unreadable. “Hold on. Calm down for a second.” He looked at her carefully before turning toward the inside of the house. “Are you sure it was a ghost mask? "Because... if it looked like this... we’ve got a problem.”

He stepped aside, revealing the very same ghost face mask she had described. Y/N froze, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes went wide. “No... no, this can’t be happening. Not here. Not now.”

Jungwon stepped forward, his voice calm yet chilling. "It's real. You're not safe here."

Before she could say another word, the door creaked open wider, and another figure stepped inside—the very same ghost face mask, only this time it was Sunoo. Her blood ran cold.

No... no... no!” she gasped, backing away, her vision blurring with panic. She turned and rushed toward the door, desperate to escape, but before she could grab the handle, Jungwon grabbed her by the arm, yanking her back roughly

Just as she tried to turn, a sudden pain shot through her head. Jungwon had yanked her hair harshly, slammed her to the floor, the sharp tug caused her vision to swim. She could barely keep her balance as her head spun from the pain. The world around her felt distant, as if she were drifting in and out of reality.

The world around her spun out of control, and with a final, breathless gasp, she fainted, her body going limp in Jungwon’s arms.

___________________________________________

Y/N's head throbbed as she regained consciousness, blinking her eyes open. The dimly lit room sent a chill down her spine. Her arms and legs were bound tightly, the ropes biting into her skin with every attempt to wriggle free. Panic set in, her heart pounding as she remembered running for her life in the woods.

The sound of footsteps broke the silence, and the door creaked open. Sunoo strolled in, wearing an infuriatingly playful smirk, followed by Jungwon, whose calm, almost nonchalant demeanor was unnerving.

"look who's awake! I was starting to get bored waiting for you to wake up" sunoo teased, He tilted his head, studying her struggles. "Hmmm... I know the ropes are tight, but bear with it, okay? If you behave like a good girl, I might loosen them for you."

"You!" Y/N hissed, glaring at him. "I thought you'd help me, but you're nothing but a traitor!"

"Traitor?" Sunoo gasped mockingly, placing a hand on his chest. "That's such a mean word. I prefer... Ghostface killer.

Her breath hitched as she stared at him in disbelief.

"No... you can't be... you're the Ghostface killer?"

"Bingo!" Sunoo said cheerfully, his smirk growing wider.

Sunoo tilted his head with a small, satisfied smile, nodding as if he were proud of her realization.

"Yes, yes, it's me!"

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"The person you begged for help and The one who chased you in the woods? That was me"

"No way!" she yelled, her voice trembling.

"You bastard! Let me go! Don't you see this is wrong?"

Jungwon, who had been silently watching from the side, took a step forward. His movements were slow and calculated, his presence suddenly feeling much heavier in the room.

"What's wrong, huh?" he asked, crouching in front of her. His hand shot out, grabbing her jaw harshly and forcing her to look at him. "We're just going to have some fun. That's all.

Her voice shook as she demanded, "Fun? What kind of fun? Aren't you two going to kill me?"

"You?" Jungwon chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Kill you? Oh no, not yet. You're far too pretty to die so early."

"You're insane!" she whispered, trying to move her face out of his grip. "Psychotic!"

"Psychotic?" Sunoo raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. "That's not very nice. We're giving you so much of our time and attention. Shouldn't you be a little more grateful?"

At least we're not killing you right away. That's something to be thankful for, isn't it?" Jungwon said.

"Thankful?" she snapped, her voice growing louder. "You're delusional! You both are sinners filthy, disgusting bastards!

"Ouch! that hurts" Jungwon said mockingly, pretending to be hurt. He looked at Sunoo, his smirk widening.

"Did you hear that? She said we're disgusting bastards. Who talks like that?

Sunoo crossed his arms, nodding as if deeply offended.

"I know, right? We go out of our way to make this fun for her, and this is the thanks we get? Unbelievable."

She glared at them both, her breathing heavy.

"And how could I forget you? You're also the Ghostface killer, aren't you?" Y/N said while glaring at Jungwon

His eyes lit up in amusement as he crouched closer, his smirk widening.

"Aww, you remembered me. How cute."

He tilted her chin up, his grip rough but calculated.

"And here I thought you'd only focus on Sunoo. I guess I made quite the impression, huh?"

"You're both insane!" she yelled, struggling even harder against the ropes. "This is wrong! My freinds will come looking for me, you won't get away with this!"

"Won't get away with it?" Jungwon repeated, chuckling softly. "Oh, we've already gotten away with so much. What makes you think this time will be any different?"

"She's so noisy, never stops talking. Jungwon. It's like she can't keep quiet for a second. Don’t you think?" Sunoo said, being frustrated.

"I know, But don’t worry, I have plans for that pretty mouth of hers. Trust me She won’t be talking much longer, not when we put it to better use." Jungwon said with a smirk.

I can’t help but wonder how she’ll react when we take control. Sunoo said

"Oh, she'll react, alright. But not in the way she expects. We’ll make her completely at our mercy, we will make her surrender to us. She'll have no choice but to give in to our demands, and all she can do is wait for what comes next." Jungwon said

"This is going to be fun"

Sunoo smirked, his gaze sharp yet teasing.

"Now, now, don't make us regret setting you free," sunoo purred, leaning closer to y/n's face, while untieing her hands."You wouldn't want to disappoint us, would you?" Sunoo asked her.

Jungwon's voice was softer, almost mockingly gentle as he stepped forward, tilting your chin up with his fingers. "We’ve been so kind, haven’t we? All we ask is for you to behave." His lips curled into a sly grin. "Be a good girl, and take what we give you, right,?"

“Answer us,” Jungwon demanded, his tone dropping to something that sent a shiver down your spine. He leaned back slightly, studying you like a predator gauging its prey. “Will you behave… or do we need to remind you how we handle disobedience?”

Your voice was barely above a whisper, but you managed to nod slightly. “I’ll behave…”

“Words, i need words,” Sunoo said with a soft laugh, his hand moving to cup your face. His touch was firm but not harsh, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “We need to hear you say it. Loud and clear.”

“I’ll behave,” you finally said, your voice steady but your cheeks burning under their gazes.

Jungwon smirked, clearly satisfied. “Good,” he said simply.

Sunoo’s laugh was soft but full of mischief as he leaned even closer. “And trust me,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear, “you’re going to love every second of it.”

Your heart raced as the intensity of their stares sent shivers down your spine. Jungwon chuckled darkly, the sound dripping with amusement. "Looks like she understands," Jungwon said, his voice low but filled with mischief. "I wanna see how obedient you are". Jungwon said.

"Now Get the fuck on your knees! Unbuckle my fucking belt like the good little whore you are. You better know what's fucking coming next - my massive cock so far down your throat and you're gagging." Jungwon said mockingly

"Please, no, please don't make me do this!" Y/n sobbed, her face contorted in anguish. "My friends, they'll be worried for me. They're probably searching for me right now. Please, I'm begging you, let me go!" Y/n begged

"Rolling his eyes dismissively, Jungwon snapped, "Calm yourself, would you? Your incessant whining is giving me a migraine. Behave, and perhaps I'll consider letting you skulk off to your little friends. But mark my words, one more outburst and you'll regret it.'"

With choked sobs, Yn silently obeyed Jungwon. She bit her lip to stifle any further noise, her small frame trembling with silent sobs.

Yn slowly pushed his pants down, exposing a thick, stone-hard cock that stood proudly upright. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in its impressive length, her eyes tracing every vein that popped along its surface. Jungwon's smirk deepened as he noticed her terrified awe.

His tip was already glistening with pre-cum

"'Think you can handle it?' Jungwon growled, his hips bucking slightly, making his massive length jump. Yn's eyes snapped down to watch the monster between his legs. She swallowed hard, 'It's too big, it won't fit", she whimpered.

"I will make it fit, Now Stop fuckin' around and suck my dick already,' Jungwon snarled, grabbing a fistful of Yn's hair and shoving her face towards his towering erection. "Open wide, slut or I'll shove it down your pretty throat. I'm gonna wreck your throat with this big fuckin' cock. That slutty mouth of yours needs a purpose".

"And If you even fuckin' dare to graze my dick with those goddamn teeth," Jungwon snarled, "I swear to God, I'll snap your neck and use this knife to carve your pretty face up. Suck it like a good little whore."

"'I'll try,' Yn stammered, her voice shaking with fear as she parted her lips. Jungwon yanked her head forward, forcing his massive cock past her trembling lips. Yn's eyes watered as she struggled to accommodate his girth, her throat constricting around the imposing length.

"Jesus, look at those pretty fucking eyes watering," Jungwon groaned, holding her head still as he hilted himself deep in her throat. "Tryin' to fit this whole monster cock, aren't ya? Fuck, your lips look good wrapped around my dick."

His massive hands fisted in Yn's hair, Jungwon viciously shoved his entire length down her throat, stretching her jaw wide. She gagged and choked around his thick meat, her eyes bulging as he brutally face-fucked her.

"Fuck..." he moaned, tilting his head back in ecstasy. "Your mouth... Jesus Christ, this is the best fuckin' blowjob ever."

"Damn," Sunoo muttered under his breath, watching Jungwon pound into the girl's mouth. "She looks like she's taking it so deep,"

His grip on her hair tightened as he controlled her movements, slamming his cock deeper into her throat with each thrust.

You patted his thighs softly to stop, but he was too consumed by pleasure. "I'm gonna...cum" "Fuckin' Christ..." he grunted, pulling out sharply. A sticky thread of saliva stretched between your lips and his leaking cock. "Look at that nasty fucking spit rope, you filthy little whore," he spat, watching his cum drip from your mouth.

Sunoo unconsciously adjusted himself. "I wonder what she tastes like..." He murmured, his own arousal growing.

"Fuck! Let me have her now." Sunoo excitedly

"I've been hardcore fucking SALIVATING over this girl's pussy. I wanna shove my face between her thighs and tongue-fuck her until she soaks my whole fucking face. I wanna taste every drop of her fucking pussy juice!" sunoo said.

"N-no,! P-please, don't! I-I'm begging you, let me go!" The girl struggles and pleads, her face flushed with humiliation and fear.

Sunoo glares up at the girl, his grip tightening on her thighs. "Fuck me, you're really fucking it up here. Just shut your damn mouth, bitch, and lemme eat your cunt already." He leans in closer, his voice dripping with vulgar menace.

"Open those fucking legs wider! Sunoo can't get his tongue deep enough in that tight cunt of yours." Jungwon snaps, giving the girl's inner thighs a harsh slap. "Spread 'em, whore."

With a snarl, Sunoo buries his face between the girl's thighs, his tongue forcing its way into her soaked pussy. He licks and sucks at her cunt aggressively, ignoring her struggles and screams. "Fuck yeah".

Sunoo's face is a mess as he devours the girl's pussy, his tongue fucking her cunt rough and dirty. He slurps and gags on her juices, his nose buried in her soaked folds. "Mmmph, fucking hell, you're a damn cunt dumpster, ain't ya?"

Sunoo pulls back, his face coated in the girl's juices, and forces a rough, open-mouthed kiss onto her lips. He shoves his tongue into her mouth, making her taste herself. "Mmph, fuck, taste that pussy.

As Y/N tries to avoid him, but eventually fails.

"The fuck you avoiding for? taste your fuckin' cunt juice, forcefully pushes tongue into her mouth while mashing their faces together "Spit it out, bitch. That's your fuckin' pussy taste right there. runs tongue along her teeth.

As Sunoo continues to force his rough, open-mouthed kiss onto the girl, she suddenly feels two fingers suddenly shoved deep inside her pussy by Jungwon. She tries to moan, but her pain-filled cries are all muffled by Suno's mouth, her screams swallowed by him.

Jungwon's fingers curl inside her, hitting that spot that makes her want to double over in pain. He spits in his palm before rubbing it onto her swollen folds, making her whimper into Sunoo's mouth. "Damn, she's so tiny,"

He adds another finger, the sudden stretch burning as he forcefully pumps them in and out, fucking her with his hand while Sunoo holds her mouth open, his tongue swirling around hers, collecting her spit and juices.

"Fuck, look at that tiny cunt, it's barely big enough for one of our dicks, Sunoo chuckles, leaning back to look at the girl's struggling form. "I'm wondering how she's even gonna survive getting stretched open by our fucking massive cocks." Sunoo said while laughing.

"You know what the worst part is?" Jungwon laughs darkly, pushing his fingers deeper inside her, making her yelp. "She probably can't even take a dick without splitting open. I bet she's one of those tight little whores who screams 'It's too big!"

Sunoo bursts into laughter, leaning in close to whisper in the girl's ear. "Better hope you can take it, slut, 'cause if not, it's gonna fuckin' ruin you. Imagine how stupid you'd look, crying and begging while we rape your tiny pussy raw anyway."

As Jungwon's fingers viciously worked inside her, Sunoo's face was now buried between her small, perky breasts, drool dripping down his chin as he sucked and bit, his fingers digging painfully into the other. The girl mewled softly, trying to snap her legs shut, but Jungwon slapped her inner thighs, biting them roughly to keep her spread open.

"I think she's prepared now to take our dicks, I can't fucking wait anymore," Jungwon growls, his patience wearing thin. "Let's just shove our fucking massive cocks inside her and see if she can even handle it."

They both try to fit inside her at once, one into her from the front while the other brutalizes her tiny pussy from behind." She gags and moans, her body stretched painfully around their massive sizes. "ahhh" Y/N Moaned painfully.

"Calm down, will you?" Jungwon said through gritted teeth as the both of them attempted to slide their dicks into her tight, holes. "Fuck, she's so damn small," Jungwon hissed, pushing harder against the resistance.

As they both start moving she feels something wet between her legs, she realizes with horror that it's blood, her tiny holes unable to withstand the brutal assault of the two monstrous cocks pounding her simultaneously. "Shit, I think we're tearing the bitch up," sunoo said mockingly.

"Please, no more ahhhh! it hurts, Jungwon grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Is that how you beg, you little slut?" He sneered. "Try again!"

Her screams turn to gurgles both dicks in blood and as both cocks explodes her pussy, sending bloody chunks of her shredded insides out with each brutal thrust. They keep fucking her, their cocks coated in her blood and gore.

Sunoo, who was fucking her from behind, brings his hand down to rub her overstimulated clit vigorously, she screams in agony. He then brings his fingers to his mouth, tasting her sweet cum and blood, his fingers fully coated in the messy mixture. "Fuck, even her blood is delicious". His mouth is full of her cum and blood.

Jungwon grabbed her roughly by the hair, forcing a brutal, dominating kiss upon her lips as both men's cocks continued to relentlessly pound into her battered holes. "Goddamn," Jungwon growled against her mouth, squeezing her cheeks painfully.

After few thrusts they both were on the verge of Cumming.

"Ahhh fuck, I'm cumming! I think" Sunoo groaned loudly, his thrusts becoming erratic. "Me too!" Jungwon grunted, slamming into her one last time. They pushed deep and held themselves inside her as they both exploded together. "Shit, yeah!"

"She looks damn good with our cum leaking down our legs from destroying that tiny cunt," Jungwon remarked with a satisfied smirk, admiring the sight of their mixed loads slowly dripping from her abused holes.

She wept uncontrollably, feeling as though sharp claws were tearing her insides apart. As Sunoo noticed her tears, he dramatically licked them away, drawling, "Hey, hey, stop crying already.'"

"Look at you, sprawled out like a fucking souless body. At least we hadn't killed you yet. You should be kissing our feet for keeping you alive, you piece of shit.'" Jungwon mocked.

"She's completely fucked now. What are we gonna do with her?" Sunoo asked Jungwon.

"Hmph... I'm bored. Might as well kill her. Even her pretty face is not pretty anymore now as before" Jungwon said.

As Sunoo pulled out the knife from his pocket and donned his ghostface mask, he towered over her. She couldn't muster the strength to fight back, completely broken and used up. He positioned the knife directly over her heart, ready to end her life in an instant.

He sneered beneath his mask, voice dripping with cruel amusement." Last words, bitch? Or should I just shut that stupid mouth of yours permanently?" Sunoo's grip tightened on the knife, the blade glinting menacingly under the dim light as he hovered mere inches from her fragile heart.

She stared up at him, eyes wide with terror but also a flicker of defiance. Her voice came out as a weak, raspy whisper, "Fuck you..."

Sunoo let out a cold, mirthless laugh. "Fuck you too, whore." With a swift, brutal motion, he plunged the knife deep into her heart. Blood spurted out, painting his mask and hands red as she let out a final, gurgled scream.

He twisted the knife, savoring the feeling of her heart giving out. Her eyes rolled back, and she went limp beneath him. Sunoo pulled the blade out, wiping it clean on her tattered clothes. He looked up at Jungwon, a grim smile on his masked face " Done". Sunoo smiled darkly

He traced her blood across his face, a twisted smile curling on his lips.

As Sunoo removed his mask and wiped his face, he only managed to smear more blood across his features. He smirked psychotically, his eyes gleaming with a deranged light as he stood over the lifeless body, his hands and face stained with her blood.

"If she didn't beg for help, she might've gotten away... But whatever.' takes a drag " Jungwon said.

'Hmm... still, she was pretty entertaining while struggling though...' sunoo smirks creepily, staring at Y/n's lifeless body.

"Take care of the body" sunoo said to Jungwon.

"Should I burn it? Bury it? Chop it up?" Jungwon smirks darker.

"Just dispose of it properly, fuck. Don't get any ideas" sunoo said.

"Cruel, isn’t it? We used you like a worthless fuck toy, nothing more than a plaything for desperate, horny killes. And just like the rest, you begged, you cried—pathetic. But in the end? You were nothing but another nameless, broken victim, discarded like trash." Jungwon spoke with a sadistic gleam in his eyes.

As the twisted cycle of killing and madness continued, each new victim became just another piece of trash.

___________________________________________

Few months later

"According to disturbing reports surface of numerous bodies found in the forest, the majority being young girls. Among the victims, one in particular stands out - Yn her body bearing the most brutal signs of assault".

"Investigations revealed that the Ghostface murders were committed by two individuals, not one. Both wore black clothes and ghostface masks.' 2. 'Forensic evidence pointed to two killers behind the Ghostface crimes. They were always seen dressed alike in black and wearing ghostface masks".

"One is named Sunoo, the other Jungwon. Their backgrounds reveal a troubling history, having escaped from a mental hospital where they were being treated for severe mental health issues. Reports indicate they suffered from mind problems, essentially making them psychopaths".

"The investigation into the Ghostface murders continues, with authorities working tirelessly. As the search for these two dangerous psychopaths persists, the public is urged to stay safe".

"This is Mia, your reporter, signing off until the next update!"

TAGS♡

206 notes · View notes

caelesjjk · 1 year ago

Text

simply meant to be | jjk

☾ Title: Simply Meant to Be ☾ Pairing: pumpkin king!jungkook x fem reader ☾ Genre/AU: nightmare before Christmas au, romance, horror, smut ☾ Rating: m (18+) ☾ WC: 4.6K ☾ Warnings: this is not your average nightmare before christmas, its pretty dark and unhinged. jungkook is jack skellington. reader is somewhat of a sally character. jungkook calls you immortelle (it means everlasting), jungkook has face tattoos (you'll see), monsters, fear, seokjin appearing as Dr. Finkelstein hehe, electrocution therapy, being held against will, jungkook unalives someone, a game of cat and mouse, mentions of blood, smut in the forms of: kissing, grinding, fingering, unprotected sex, knife play, blood play, creampie ☾ Summary: you aren’t sure how any of it can be real. This place…these creatures…this man. You wake up next to a man you’ve never seen before with no memory of who he is or where you are. But everyone in town seems to know you. You belong to the Pumpkin King. Scared and utterly terrified you run into someone who claims they can help you remember. And now you’re starting to wonder if that’s truly what you want. ☾ Authors Note: hello darklings! Please enjoy my trick for the Fantasy and Fangs halloween collab! this fic became so much more unhinged than i originally planned lol. it may not be for everyone! just e sure to check my warnings before you proceed with the fic. this is heavily unedited.

Your body jolts upright, lungs immediately gasping for breath.

Panic surges through every nerve as you frantically look around at your surroundings and grasping at the thin sheet you find bunched around your hips.

You’re naked. God why are you naked? How did you get here? Where the fuck are you?

Your heart pounds in your chest as you look next to you in bed and see that someone is lying next to you. A broad back and muscular arms covered in tattoos leading up to a head of messy black hair that covers the persons face lies snoring quietly against the sheets.

“Shit.” You mumble, wrapping the thin sheet around your body as you scramble out of the bed. The man lying in the bed stirs slightly and reaches into the space where your body once was.

You don’t wait to see anything else, dashing for the bedroom door and stumbling into the very dark hallway. The only light comes from the cobweb covered candle sconces that line the black painted walls.

You adjust the sheet around you the best you can before taking off running down the hallway. There is an immediate feeling that you’re being watched and you make the mistake of turning around to look behind you.

The dark shadowy silhouette of a man stands where you had just been a moment ago. You beg your feet to move faster.

Before you reach the top of the stairs, you glance back over your shoulder once more to see what you can only describe as a jack o lantern grin light up and stretch across the face of the man taking his time moving towards to you down the hallway.

“Where are you going, immortelle?”

A voice comes into your mind and almost causes you to fall face first down the winding spiral staircase in front of you.

“Please leave me alone.” You beg as you rush down the stairs. You don’t make it far before you suddenly feel hands gripping at your ankles. Hands with claws….some covered with slime…reaching from under the stairs and tearing at the sheet keeping your naked body from being exposed.

You scream until your throat hurts. Kicking at the hands as you continue to fight your way down the stairs.

“You know how much I love chasing you, baby.”

Somehow you manage to make it to the bottom of the stairs, but you almost wish that you hadn’t when you fall against the front door and throw it open.

You must be hallucinating with fear.

Outside the sky is black and grey swirls of clouds in constant motion, you know if you stared too long you’d become dizzy. Instead, your eyes wonder around to the bare trees surrounding the house you just made your way out of. Just a few leaves hang on for dear life as the wind quite literally howls through the air.

Down the crooked stone steps in front of you is a huge iron gate with two giant pumpkin designs bent into the bars. Gargoyles sit atop every stone post surrounding the house.

Wasting no more time, you descend the stairs until you’ve reached the iron gate, shaking the bars when it doesn’t budge.

“Please open. Please.” You shove with your shoulder as hard as you can and the gate loudly creaks open just enough for you to squeeze out into the open street.

You turn around and shove the gate back shut, looking up at the top of the stairs where the man who had been chasing you through the house now stands with a smile on his half tattooed face and his arms crossed over his bulky bare chest.

You can see even from here that the tattoos on the left side of his face are skull like features. It’s absolutely terrifying.

He lifts a hand in a wave as he menacingly tilts his head to the side and smiles.

Fuck this.

You wrap the blanket tighter around you and take off down the street without a single clue as to where you are. Anywhere has to be better than where you just were.

You spoke too soon again.

The sight in front of you as you round the corner is just as terrifying as that house and that man.

There are monsters, literal monsters, standing in the streets. Selling items at market booths. Chasing their children on the sidewalks. Laughter…and screams. It’s a terrible mix of sounds.

You freeze as a bouncy ball belonging to what you can only assume is a swamp monster child rolls against your feet.

“Happy first day after Halloween Ms Y/N!” The little creature says, staring at you expectantly.

Your instincts tell you not to scream. If you scream it will only make things worse.

“You know my name?” Your voice shakes and so do your hands as you continue holding the blanket around your body.

“Are you alright, miss?” The child’s mother appears behind him, looking at you with concern.

“I um…I should go.” Your bare feet move to cross the street, making you pause when you step in something wet. You know that it’s blood before you even look down. Vomit threatens to fill your mouth but you continue walking away, dragging the train of the sheet you’re wearing through more of the bloody streets.

More monsters stare at you as you go. Some with long sharp teeth and claws that could easily slice through a normal humans delicate skin. Some walked on two feet and some slithered across the ground like sickly serpents.

“Are you lost?” A horrifying witch grabbed your arm and tried to pull you back into the street.

“No, no I’m just on my way somewhere.” You lie the best you can, yanking your arm away only to immediately see deeps scratches from her long nails.

“So sorry miss.” She cackles, moving to join two other witches who were waiting for her on the other side of the street. They all continued their uneasy laughing until you turned the corner up ahead.

As you turned the corner you ran hard into something. Or someone it would appear when you looked up.

“What are you doing out here in nothing but a blanket, Y/N?” The man asks, pushing a pair of glasses up onto his nose.

This man had stitches across his forehead and down around his neck. Like some kind of Frankenstein’s monster, he’s been sewn together.

“Do I know you? Why does everyone here know my name?” You step back to put space between you and the monster.

“Ah, I see. Come with me.” He turns and begins walking but stops when you don’t follow. “I can help you. Come.” He holds out a hand, and while you don’t know what the fuck is happening, something tells you it’s okay to trust this stranger.

You take his hand.

“Who are you?” You finally ask.

“I’m a friend. Dr. Kim Seokjin.” He swings your hands between you in a silly way. “You usually call me Jin. Sometimes Jinnie.”

“Jin.” You repeat, the name feeling familiar on your tongue. “Where are we going?”

“To my lab. I have things that can help you there.” Jin turns another corner and up ahead you can see a tall crooked tower looming in the distance.

“Your lab is in there?”

“It is. Don’t worry Y/N, I promise you’re safe with me.”

You swallow hard but continue to let Jin lead you inside the tower and up, up, up the long spiraling stairs until you reach a door that he slides open.

Inside is a room filled with equipment and various experiments. Glass beakers filled with colorful liquid bubble and burble over small open flames. Sparks fly from wires that connect to different machines and some that connect to nothing at all. There are also several control panels at the center of the room with gurneys situated next to them.

“What kind of doctor are you, Jin?” Your voice shakes a little.

“The helpful kind.” He answers with a menacing grin on his face and a flicker of something slightly insane in his eyes.

“Wh-what do you have here that can help me?” You look down at the dirty blanket still wrapped around your body.

“First,” he grabs your hand again and leads you to a side room that has a cot with some folded clothes lying on top of it, “you can use those clothes to change into, okay? Whatever you want.”

“Thank you.” You step into the small room and turn to face him. “Is something really wrong with me? Something that makes me not remember?”

“Everything is fixable. I’ll have you as good as new in no time.” Jin winks and closes the door behind him so that you can change in private.

You dress in a daze, still feeling very off kilter from everything that’s unfolded from the moment you opened your eyes. Flashes of the man you woke up next too and his terrifying tattooed face race across your memory and leave chills over your skin.

“Ready now?” Jin calls from outside the door. You take a deep breath and walk back out into the laboratory. “Why don’t you take a seat on one of those?” He motions to the gurneys at the center of the room.

Reluctantly, you walk over to them and sit on the thin mattress. It crumples under your weight and immediately sends a sense of dread swimming into your veins.

“How can you fix me?” You barely get the sentence out before Jin is next to you, situating your arms at your sides and wrapping leather straps around your wrists. “What are you doing?” Panic thick in your voice.

“This is how we fix you. Bite this.” He puts a leather strap up to your mouth.

“Are you crazy?! I’m not doing this. Let me go!” You pull against the restraints, thrashing your head and body in an attempt to get the fuck away.

“I know it’s a little frightening. You do this every time. One of your only flaws.” Jin shakes his head, sounding disappointing.

“Flaws? What are you talking about!?”

“You’re my creation. I made you.” He tilts his head and smiles, “and you’re absolutely perfect except for that mind of yours. It resets. Forgets.” He shrugs his shoulders.

“Creation?! I’m a human being! I’m not some experiment! What is wrong with you?” Hot tears starts to leak from the corners of your eyes and blur your vision.

“You’re so adorable sometimes.” Jin yanks on your restraints to tighten them, “sit still, Y/N.”

“You’re hurting me.” You whimper.

“You think that hurts?” Jin smiles before he begins sticking sticky pads to your head and neck. “Just wait.” He whispers into your ear.

You’re such an idiot to have trusted this monster. You were so sure that he was good. A friend. He felt like a friend when you saw him. Familiar.

“Please…don’t.” You beg just before he forcefully shoves the piece of leather between your teeth.

“You’ll thank me soon.”

Terror freezes your body as you watch him slam down a lever on one of the control tables, green electric waves traveling down the wires and entering your body in trembling shocks.

You don’t know how long you lay there, screaming through the pain before you pass out from how much electricity Jin lets pass into your body. But eventually the room goes black and the last thing you hear is Jin manically laughing from across the room.

“It’s getting worse.”

“I tweaked some things this time. I’m hopeful it lasts longer.”

“It better. I’m tired of losing her.”

You hear quiet voices as you begin to come to. Voices that you recognize almost immediately.

“Jungkook?” Your voice croaks. Almost immediately the door to the small room slides open and the silhouette of the only person you want to see fills the doorway.

“You’re okay, immortelle?” Jungkook rushes into the room and kneels next to the cot you’re laying on.

“What happened to me? Why am I in Jinnie’s lab?” You turn your head to face him when he cups your cheeks in his hands.

“You had another episode, my sweet.” He brings your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles one by one.

“Episode?” Your brows draw together in confusion.

“You forgot who you were. That you belong to me. You forgot it all.” Jungkook looks sad while he explains and it breaks your heart.

“How could I forget you?” You sit up slowly and he helps you. “How could I forget my love?”

“It’s not your fault, immortelle. Don’t blame yourself.” Jungkook looks over his shoulder at Jin who stands in the doorway. Jin rolls his eyes before walking away.

“Take me home?” You ask, wrapping your arms around Jungkook’s neck when he picks you up into his arms bridal style.

“Of course.”

Jungkook carries you down the long winding staircase of the laboratory and outside where it’s pitch black besides the white melting candles inside the lamp posts along the street.

A smile pulls across your face when you see all the monsters that you love busy in the streets. They all smile back at you, tossing greetings and wishes of quick recoveries your way.

“They love you.” Jungkook whispers into your ear.

“No. They love you, you’re their pumpkin king. I’m just lucky enough to be yours.” You touch the skull details tattooed on the side of his face so he looks at you.

“You’ll be their queen soon.” He reminds you. You lean up to kiss his lips.

“Let’s get something to eat before we go home. I’m famished.” Jungkook sits you on your feet but keeps your hand in his.

Jungkook talks with some of the shop owners and you watch as he gathers all of your favorite things into a basket. Wines, cheeses, and some sweet treats leftover from the night before. You love him so.

You make your way over to a stand selling haunted dolls and look around at all the choices. You’re about to go back to find Jungkook when someone grabs your arm and twists you around.

“You’re so pretty.” The drunken vampire says, the smell of blood thick on his breath. He’s had too much.

“I appreciate your compliment, but I need you to let go of my arm.” You pull away but he doesn’t let go.

“Don’t be that way. Come with me.” He stumbles and almost falls on top of you.

“Get off of me!” You say louder but the vampire doesn’t listen, it’s nails scratching through your skin. You’re about to scream for Jungkook when he’s suddenly there, ripping the vampires hand from your arm.

“May I ask what you think you’re doing? Touching what’s mine?” Jungkook says too calmly.

“I…I didn’t recognize Ms. Y/N…I didn’t realize.” The vampire stumbles over his words.

“Is that your excuse?” Jungkook laughs, the terrifying cackling sound sending tingles through your body.

You know what’s going to happen next, and the thrill alone has you aching between your legs.

“I’m sorry, I’ll never make the mistake again.” The vampire takes a few steps back.

“Immortelle?” Jungkook looks over his shoulder to you. He’s asking a silent question that you already know the answer to. You nod yes as a smile spreads across your face.

“Remember in your next life my friend, to keep your filthy hands off my girl.” Before you can blink his hand is shooting out between them and into the vampires chest cavity. He holds it there a moment so that he can watch the life drain slowly drain from the vampire before he yanks his hand back out holding the still thumping heart in his hand.

The vampire falls to the ground in a lifeless heep, his eyes still open and eternally full of the fear he last experienced. The crowd around the market doesn’t take offense, they know if their pumpkin kills someone it was for a damn good reason.

Jungkook turns towards you, handing the heart to one of the children playing with the body on the ground. He pats their head and then slowly brings his hand up to his mouth, licking a thick stripe from the bloody palm of his hand to the tip of his middle finger, all while keeping eye contact with you.

You smile, closing the space between the two of you and claiming his mouth. Your tongue seeks out the blood that’s dropped down his chin and around his lips.

“It never gets old…watching you kill for me.” You breathe into his mouth while his blood hands lace into the strands of your hair.

“We need to get home before I show everyone here how well I fuck you.” His mouth leaves hot kisses against your neck as he leads you backwards down the street until your back hits the iron bars of a familiar gate.

Home.

The gate loudly creaks open as soon as it realizes the two of you have arrived. Jungkook stops kissing you to take your hand and walks with you up the stone stairs to the front door that also opens all on its own, the door knocker welcoming you home.

“Do you want to play?” You whisper, making Jungkook pause at the bottom of the stairs. Those tattooed details raising into a smile.

“Okay, immortelle. Let’s play.” He kisses the top of your hand before taking a step back. He slowly slips of his black and white striped suit jacket and unbuttons his shirt before it joins the jacket on the floor.

You soak in the tattooed planes of his body, the muscles begging to be touched. His dark falling over his forehead as he steps back farther into the shadows until he’s completely disappeared from your sight.

“You know what happens if I catch you, immortelle.” His voice floats into your ear from somewhere unknown. “Don’t let me catch you.”

A thrill shoots through your body again and you sprint for the stairs, loving the way the monsters and ghouls grab at your ankles and whisper your name. You immediately turn left at the top of the stairs, your mind going a million miles an hour trying to think of where you could hide.

He knows all of the good places for hiding.

In a last ditch idea, you run into your shared bedroom upon hearing Jungkook’s footsteps running up the stairs. He took this game of chase so seriously and never took it slowly.

You slide under the bed, your chest heaving in fear but also excitement. You’re hoping by hiding somewhere obvious that he won’t even think to look here and waste his time checking all of the usual spots you tend to hide.

“Where are you, immortelle?” You hear his menacing voice out in the hallway coming closer. You almost giggle. “You know I’ll find you. I will always find you.”

You hear his footsteps stop outside the bedroom door and then the door slowly opens right after, lightly hitting against the wall behind it.

Jungkook’s heavy footsteps make the floorboards creak as he walks into the room. You throw a hand over your mouth to keep from making any noises. Jungkook undoes the buckle of his belt and a moment later slips it from his belt loops and lets it clang against the hardwood floor.

“Are you soaked for me right now, my love?” You watch with wide eyes as Jungkook slowly walks around the bed. “I’ll find out soon enough.”

He doesn’t say anything else and when you look around at the floor you notice that he’s no longer next to the bed, his black boots no longer anywhere in sight. You release a long breath of relief.

And then you’re being yanked by the ankle from beneath the bed, a startled scream escaping you as you flip onto your back just in time to see Jungkook trap you with his body against the floor.

“You caught me.” You smile, lifting your hips up to meet his, desperate for friction against your core.

“Don’t I always?” His mouth is on yours, his hands pushing your dress up around your hips.

He was desperate for you too.

“I love you.” You whisper on his lips, the tattooed skeleton grin on his beautiful face turning upwards.

Jungkook sits up on his knees between your legs giving you a full view of his naked torso. Pretty muscles and flawless skin that you ached to leave your mark on. Scratches and bite marks and bruises were the only things that could make him more perfect.

Your chest heaves as you watch him reach behind his back in the band of his black dress pants to retrieve a silver shiny knife. Your pulse quickens immediately.

“Is this what you want, immortelle?” He presses the cold steel flat against the inside of your thigh, keeping the blade from cutting you just yet.

“Will you torture me?” You ask, your hands coming up to cup your breasts with anticipation.

“Absolutely.” Jungkook moves the knife farther up your skin until the point brushes over underwear. You moan pathetically at the feel of it brushing over your center and slowly sliding over onto your other thigh.

“Jungkook…” you sigh.

“Be patient. I’ll give you what you want.” Jungkook uses his other hand to undo the button and zipper of his pants, pushing them down until his perfect cock springs free from the confines.

You bite your lip at the sight in front of you. Jungkook slowly strokes himself to the sight of the knife moving across your skin. He draws the sharp side of the blade oh so gently across your stomach, so sharp you don’t even feel it draw blood. The view of you on display for him makes him groan and move his hand a bit rougher up and down his shaft.

Your fingers move on their own accord, slipping through the small pool of blood on your stomach and moving them back over your breasts to smear the crimson liquid in a trail.

“Fuck. Fuck you’re so perfect.” Jungkook moves the knife to your throat, gently leaving one long cut from one side to the other. You immediately feel warm blood leave the wound and drip down the sides of your neck.

Jungkook drops the knife to the floor and bends over your body to attach his mouth to your neck. He licks and sucks at your blood, whimpering at the taste of it on his tongue. Your body instinctively arches from the ground, your chest rubbing against his and spreading more of your blood between your bodies. It was the most beautiful visual you could imagine.

You looked down between your bodies to see Jungkook’s hand still stroking his cock as he continues to move his mouth down your body to the cut on your stomach. You can barely stand the burn in the pit of your stomach any longer, your desire for the man on top of you smoldering too hot.

“I need you now. Please.” You lace your hands into Jungkook’s hair and lift his face. The sight of his face covered in your blood, his eyes solid black with lust almost does you in completely.

“Such a good girl, saying please.” He moves back onto his knees, squeezing precum from the head of his cock before he releases it completely and picks the knife back up off the floor. You watch in awe as he brings it to his mouth and licks the blood from the blade.

“I always want to be good for you.” You say sweetly. His cock twitches at the sound of your obedient voice.

Jungkook moves the knife down between your legs and ever so carefully pressed the sharp blade to your underwear and drags it down until the fabric slices apart and reveals your absolutely drenched pussy to him. The knife clangs to the floor again and Jungkook leans back down to claim your mouth, his thumb immediately finding your clit.

Your lips part to moan and his tongue swipes against yours swallowing up all the sounds that escape you. The dripping head of his cock suddenly swipes through your folds and causes a high pitched whine to bubble up your throat.

“Is your pussy desperate to be filled, immortelle?” His hand swipes the blood on your stomach before it’s back on his cock, the blood lubing his shaft to make it easier when he fucks himself into you.

“Yes. It hurts, Jungkook.” You let your hands wander his chest and stomach, watching him watch you.

“I’m not going to last long once I get inside your perfect pussy, my love. But I need you to cum and I need you to scream.” Without warning he roughly spears himself inside you, his hands holding you on his cock as you writhe from the sudden intrusion.

“Oh my fucking god.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he starts to move, rough and hard.

“Made for me. I literally had you made just for me and you’re perfect. So fucking perfect and pliant just for me.” Jungkook’s hand comes down to your throat, careful of the cut across your skin, he gently tightens his grip.

You immediately see stars, wrapping both of your hands around his wrist to keep him in place. You gasp and moan at the feeling of him controlling your breathing and ruining your pussy at the same time.

“I’m going to come. God I’m coming right now.” The words are quiet as he continues to hold your throat but he hears you just fine, moving his hand from your throat to play with your clit.

“Scream. I need you to scream so I can fill you up.” You open your eyes to see Jungkook watching you, his hair sweaty and mouth parted. Just when you’re about to beg for a kiss he punches your clit between his fingers and your orgasm rolls through you like a hurricane.

Black and white sparks explode behind your eyes and though you can’t hear yourself, you know that you scream loud and high pitched. Just what Jungkook needs to find his own end, dropping on top of you as he continues to fill you past the brim and onto your thighs.

Dried blood scratches between your skin and his as he lies on top of you, his head against your chest and your hands roaming the expanse of his broad shoulders.

“You’re okay, immortelle?” He finally asks through his heavy breathing.

“I am, of course.” You lift his face to place a kiss to his lips.

“We didn’t even make it to the bed this time.” He laughs lightly, groaning as he pulls out and helps you sit up with him.

“I didn’t mind.” You both smile knowing he feels the same.

“I’ll never mind being with you, immortelle. Never.” He touches your cheek and kisses your lips once more.

“Even if…even if I keep forgetting?”

“Even then. We are simply meant to be, my love.”

#bts fic #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jungkook oneshot #jjk

2K notes · View notes