#don't look behind the curtain etc

[pochapal]

once is noise twice is coincidence three times is a pattern...we're never gonna get a good look at any of these crime scenes at any point ever are we

[delulustateofmind]

You Can't Just Play God

SatoSugu x Reader Inspired by a comic on Webtoon: Never Ending Darling and that one anon asking about how things would go if you were dating Geto and Gojo entered the relationship instead.

TW: No Curse AU/Modern Au, Horror? Yandere Behaviors (Obsessive, Possessive, Manipulation, Etc.), SatoSugu, Dubcon, Implied Noncon, Murder, Disturbing deaths, Blood, Gun violence, Reader Dies Multiple Times, smut, spooky lab tech (not used for smut), academic theft. MDNI. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

WC: 7.5k

Enjoy! I'm going to touch grass now :)

The cycle repeats.

A new age, a new era—and you had a goddamn headache.

The chimes of your alarm dragged you out of sleep, their shrill notes cutting through the haze clouding your mind. A groan slipped through your lips as you sluggishly threw an arm over your face as the sun’s obnoxiously bright rays streamed through your curtains, making everything somehow worse. Judging by the pounding in your skull, you had to assume you were hungover. Not that you could confirm it—these days, your memories were more like fragmented snapshots, and last night was no exception.

Reaching for your side table, you fumbled to silence the grating K.K. Slider alarm jingle that seemed ten times louder than usual. The sudden quiet was a relief, but only for a moment. Your groan deepened as you noticed the sweet note left behind by your boyfriend—no, fiancé. That term still felt foreign, awkward on your tongue.

“For the love of my life, please stop with your antics, sweet girl.” —Sugu.

Beside the note sat a neatly placed hangover tonic and a couple of pills, his familiar thoughtfulness easing some of the tension in your chest. You popped the pills and chased them with the tonic, grateful for his foresight, though the nagging truth lingered: you didn’t remember going out last night. At all.

The sensation wasn’t new, but it never got less unsettling. A blank space where memories should be. A creeping sense of unease settled over you as you swung your legs over the edge of the bed. Your head throbbed with the effort, each beat of the headache a sharp reminder of how little control you seemed to have over your own life lately.

You padded downstairs in your pajamas, still half-asleep and half-questioning your existence. The familiar scent of breakfast wafted through the house, but it did little to clear the fog in your mind. Despite Suguru’s persistent efforts, you still lived at home with your parents. You’d insisted you weren’t ready to move in with him yet. He’d even offered to kick out his roommate and business partner—your college best friend, Gojo Satoru—to make space for you. You still said no.

“You’re so lucky to have a man like him, Y/N,” your mother chimed from the kitchen, her voice cutting through your haze. She stood by the stove, spatula in hand, her words laced with just enough mom judgment to make you wince. “He carried you home, helped you shower, and got you changed. You don’t find men like that anymore.”

You don't remember any of that however -

She wasn’t wrong. Somehow, you’d managed to score Geto Suguru, the golden boy of your university days and a literal campus heartthrob. Dreamy looks, a sharp mind, and a personality that could charm even the grumpiest professor. He was, by all accounts, perfect. A goddamn dreamboat. And all because you were friends—well, “friends”—with Gojo Satoru.

The term "friends" was generous. You’d been stuck with him for every group project and PhD research assignment imaginable, his sharp intellect rivaled only by his inability to take anything seriously. Yet, through some twist of fate, that irritating partnership had landed you Suguru.

And now, here you were: hungover, disoriented, and trying to piece together just how you’d gotten so lucky. Lucky wasn’t the right word—it was a miracle. A once-in-a-lifetime kind of miracle.

As you poured yourself a glass of water and leaned against the counter, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to last night than just drinks and laughter. Maybe you should stop drinking.

Because while you had a doctorate, had been part of some of the most groundbreaking research in the medical field, and somehow scored a partner who now co-owned one of the biggest medical organizations in the country…

You still didn’t have a real job.

Sure, you worked at a café on weekends, but that didn’t exactly scream “career success.” The smell of burnt espresso and sugary syrups clung to your clothes, and your paycheck barely covered your expenses and crippling student debt.

Suguru had been practically begging you to come work with him. He’d pitched every possible reason, his voice honey-smooth and infuriatingly persuasive. “We’d make a great team,” he’d say, always with that easy smile. Or, “You’d finally get to put that brilliant mind to use,” followed by a soft kiss on your forehead. And, of course, the practical approach: “You could stop getting burned by scalding coffee every other Saturday.”

But your answer never wavered. It was always a firm no.

Why should you take advantage of your boyfriend’s—fiancé’s—accomplishments? It wasn’t his fault you felt like a freeloader in your own life. But working with him would only cement that feeling, wouldn’t it? And let’s be honest: there was no way you could survive the smug, self-satisfied smirks Gojo Satoru would throw your way every. Single. Day.

The thought alone made your headache throb harder.

Your mother’s voice cut through your spiraling thoughts—the kind of thoughts you really should’ve been saving for your therapist. “Did you hear me, Y/N? You’re lucky he even tolerates you living here at your age,” she quipped, half-joking, half-serious.

You sighed, forcing yourself back to the present as she set a plate of breakfast in front of you. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered if Suguru’s offer would ever stop looming over you.

“Can you bring Suguru his bento? Oh, and I made one for Satoru, too! You don’t bring him around anymore. I miss that cute smile of his,” your mother hummed, nodding toward the perfectly packed bento boxes lined up on the counter.

Dragging a hand down your face. At least running this errand was better than being stuck at home, drowning in wedding prep, and trying on half a million dresses your mom insisted on. “It’s the least you could do,” she always said, as if you weren’t already suffocating under the weight of your own existential dread.

“Sure,” you muttered, knowing resistance was futile. Besides, it wasn’t like you had any real plans today.

After a quick shower and throwing on something that looked presentable enough for public, you grabbed the bento boxes and headed out. The warm sunlight and cool breeze were a temporary reprieve, a small comfort as you made your way to their office—their office.

 It was better than the alternative of staying at home and listening to your mother’s words about floral centerpieces and seating arrangements. Barely.

Their company was part of this “new era,” the one everyone couldn’t stop raving about—and you’d been a huge part of its foundation. Back in the day, you and Satoru had cracked the code to altering DNA, finding a way to cheat death. If you could afford the astronomical price tag, mortality was no longer your concern. People who were once riddled with cancer could now return home cancer-free, spared the agony of losing limbs or enduring endless rounds of chemo.

You’d only been part of solving the formula, though. The groundwork. Satoru had the funding, the connections, and the relentless drive to take it further. Once you stepped out of the picture, you hadn’t kept track of the system or its progress. You didn’t ask, and no one offered answers.

The alteration had been applied to most of the foundational jobs—political leaders, police officers, high-ranking officials. It was a standard requirement now, a guarantee of longevity and efficiency in roles deemed too crucial to risk mortality.

These days, people were willing to go into crippling debt to get the procedure done, their desperation outweighing the staggering price. After all, what was a lifetime of debt if you couldn’t die? No risk of death meant no fear of defaulting, and for many, that trade-off was worth it.

The procedure had shifted society’s balance, turning death into a choice rather than an inevitability—but at a cost few truly understood.

The business was beginning to have a cult following after being backed by the world's leaders.

And yet, not everyone shared the world’s admiration for the scientific marvel housed within that towering, double-helix-shaped skyscraper in the heart of Tokyo. Protestors were a constant presence outside the building, their chants about ethics blending with the dramatic videos they displayed of humanity spiraling into chaos. You’d seen their demonstrations so many times it had faded into background noise.

Still, as you approached the sleek, futuristic entrance, a pang of guilt crept in. What had once been your passion now felt like a story you’d abandoned—a story that no longer felt like yours.

Maybe there was a hint of resentment buried beneath the guilt. Maybe, deep down, you wished you’d taken Satoru’s offer back then, even if you knew it wouldn’t have made things easier. But that was a door you’d slammed shut long ago, and no amount of hindsight could undo it.

Shaking your head to clear the thought, you stepped through the automatic doors. The familiar hum of the lobby enveloped you, the pristine white interior and futuristic decor unchanged since the last time you’d been here. Security nodded as you passed, their recognition swift and unquestioning.

The private elevator awaited a sleek capsule of steel and glass that carried you straight to the top floor. The ascent was smooth and silent, yet the weight in your chest grew heavier with every passing second.

There, you were greeted by Suguru’s stunning, sharp-eyed assistant. Even after countless encounters, Manami gave you that same unreadable look—like she was quietly sizing you up, or maybe judging you in some understated, professional way. It wasn’t outright rude, but it was just enough to make your skin crawl.

The treacherous thought crept into your mind, uninvited: Maybe he should be dating her instead. No—marrying her. She fit into his world so effortlessly. Polished, composed, and clearly brilliant, Manami seemed like the perfect match for someone as successful and poised as Suguru. Meanwhile, you still felt like a guest who’d overstayed their welcome, fumbling to keep up in a world that wasn’t yours.

It was a ridiculous thought, and you knew it. Late-night Reddit doom-scrolling had reassured you that insecurities like this were perfectly normal, even if they were soul-crushingly embarrassing. Deep down, you understood that your so-called “little life” wasn’t the problem. The problem was you—stuck in your own head, drowning in doubts that never seemed to let up.

But no matter how loud the voice in your head got, one thing you couldn’t ignore: Suguru would never leave you. You were sure of that. If anything, he clung to you like his life depended on it—unfortunately. And for reasons you couldn’t quite put into words, that unwavering devotion only made it harder to believe you deserved him.

You shifted awkwardly in the too-fancy armchair across from Manami’s desk, clutching the bag of bentos like it might save you from drowning. “Nice weather we’re having,” you mumbled, trying to fill the heavy silence with small talk.

Manami barely glanced up, her manicured fingers pausing just long enough to adjust the nameplate on her desk before resuming their rhythmic clatter against her keyboard.

“Hm,” she hummed, a noncommittal response that somehow managed to sound both polite and dismissive at the same time.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to look anywhere but at her. The room, much like the rest of the building, was sleek and pristine, designed to impress. But the air felt heavy, the quiet tension between you and Manami a constant reminder that this wasn’t your world. It was theirs.

And you weren’t sure you’d ever truly belong.

You sighed, muttering a quiet “Alright,” under your breath, and returned to fidgeting with the straps of the bag. Your eyes wandered down to the weight on your left hand—the engagement ring.

It was stunning. Too stunning. The kind of ring that screamed wealth and class, the kind that seemed like it should belong to someone like her. Another insecure thought, you supposed, but brushing it off was easier said than done. The gnawing doubt settled deep in the pit of your stomach, refusing to budge. Perhaps another conversation to save for your therapist. 

The soft click of a door unlocking snapped you out of your spiral. You looked up to see Suguru stepping out, his familiar, easy smile lighting up his face as his dark eyes landed on you. The way his gaze swept over you still sent butterflies fluttering through your stomach. Even after all this time, he still had that effect on you.

“There’s my sweet girl,” he murmured warmly, his voice low and soothing as he extended a hand toward you.

You stepped forward, slipping your hand into his. His grip was firm yet tender, grounding in a way that made your chest tighten. He gave your hand a small squeeze before adding, “You could’ve waited with Satoru, you know. He misses you.”

The mention of Satoru made your skin crawl. Missed you? That was one way of putting it. You were marrying Suguru, yet Satoru still didn’t seem to grasp the concept of personal space. No matter how often you tried to address it, he always found a way to push the boundaries.

The casual hand lingering too long on your thigh. The hugs that felt tighter and lasted longer than they should. The kisses to your cheek that came far too often to be innocent.

You’d brought it up to Suguru so many times, and his response was always the same, a calm dismissal wrapped in a reassuring smile: “He’s harmless.”

But it didn’t feel harmless to you. Not even close.

Once inside Suguru’s office, you set the bag of bentos down on his desk, taking a step back to collect yourself. Before you could settle, he was already there. The door clicked shut behind him, his long, purposeful strides closing the space between you in seconds.

You barely had time to react before his lips crashed into yours, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you into his arms. The force of the kiss left you breathless, his presence overwhelming as his fingers pressed against the fabric of your shirt.

“Missed you,” he murmured against your lips, his tone softer now, the affection in his voice sending a familiar heat blooming in your chest.

For a moment, you let yourself sink into him, into the comfort of his touch. He always felt safe. A fuel for comfort perhaps. 

“You were such a mess last night,” he murmured against your lips, trailing kisses down to your neck as he pushed you to sit on the edge of his desk. His hands guided your legs around his waist, holding you close as he continued his slow assault of affection. You swallowed hard against the tightness in your throat.

“You’re lucky your friend called me,” he added softly, his words brushing against your skin like a tease.

Closing your eyes, you tilted your head back as his lips moved down the column of your neck. You’d learned not to push him away when he got like this—it always left you feeling guilty afterward.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, the words barely audible.

Suguru’s fingers worked at the buttons of your blouse, his hands warm and conscious as he hiked up your skirt. You shivered under his touch, the chill of the room clashing with the heat of his hands.

“Can we not do this with your assistant in the other room?” you managed to ask meekly, your voice wavering as his fingertips trailed over your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“I’m having a rough day, my love,” he murmured against your throat, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I didn’t get much sleep after taking care of you last night. I need a little motivation to get through the rest of my day.”

Before you could respond, he gently eased you to lay back on his desk. It was then you realized it had been cleared—papers, files, and everything else neatly tucked away. Had he planned for this?

His lips continued their path down your body, leaving soft kisses and the occasional nip as he went. When he reached the space between your legs, he spread them carefully with his hands, his gaze lingering on you as if savoring every moment.

His tongue pressed against your clothed slit, sending a jolt of heat through your core.

“You’re not wearing the ones I bought you,” he noted, his voice low and teasing.

He was right. Instead of the delicate, expensive pieces he favored—like that itchy white G-string with the little gold charm bearing his initials “G.S”—you’d gone for the practical, cost-effective option: simple cotton underwear from a multipack.

“Wanted to be—” Your breath hitched as his fingers brushed against you, light and teasing, pulling the words from your throat before you could even finish.

“Wanted to be what?” he repeated, his voice dripping with honeyed amusement. His tone was playful, but there was an edge to it—a quiet demand. “Weren’t you taught to finish your sentences?”

The vibrations of his words sent another wave of shivers through you, and your body betrayed you, squirming under his touch. He hummed in approval, the sound low and indulgent as his hand trailed up your inner thigh, his fingers left your skin tingling in their wake.

With practiced ease, he pulled your panties to the side, his lips trailing soft, feather-light kisses along your skin. Then, without hesitation, he leaned in and began to devour you, his tongue hot and insistent, moving with volitional precision that made your back arch against the cool surface of his desk.

It was overwhelming—the way his long tongue slid inside you, the way his thumb circled your most sensitive spot with just the right amount of pressure. He moved as though he had all the time in the world, savoring every moment.

You couldn’t help the soft, pathetic moans that escaped your lips, your hands gripping the edge of the desk for some semblance of stability. Suguru had always been like this—relentless, thorough, and determined to reach every spot that made you unravel.

It wasn’t just physical. He had you memorized. Every shiver, every gasp, every sound you made only spurred him on, his movements calculated to draw out your pleasure until your mind was spinning.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured between kisses, his breath warm against your skin. “Every inch of you.”

His words made your chest tighten, a mix of emotions bubbling to the surface. Love, longing, and something you couldn’t quite name. You wanted to believe his devotion was just that—devotion. But there was a weight to his words, an intensity that sometimes felt... suffocating.

He didn’t stop until your body trembled beneath him, your breaths coming in short, uneven gasps. Suguru lifted his head, his lips glistening as he looked at you with a satisfied smirk. “See?” he whispered, his voice impossibly soft. “I know exactly what you need.”

And you believed him. How could you not, when he made you feel like this? Like you were the center of his world, the only thing that mattered.

“You’re so good for me,” he murmured, his voice low and velvety as he brushed a stray strand of hair from your face. “So, so good.”

In your haze, still trembling from your last orgasm, you felt the blunt, heated tip of his cock pressing against your entrance. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist again, his hands gripping the soft flesh of your thighs. 

“Gotta ease up for me, sweet girl,” he groaned, his voice thick with restraint as he pushed forward, sinking into you inch by girthy inch. The stretch made your breath hitch, your body fluttering around him, still sensitive and raw.

“It’s not gonna feel good if you don’t relax,” he cooed, though his tone carried a sense of control, a reminder that he wasn’t stopping until he had all of you. Whether it hurt or not.

You did your best to loosen the tension in your body, focusing on the soft kisses he pressed against your lips, your cheeks, and the corner of your jaw. They were meant to soothe, but the way he moved—rolling his hips upward, grinding deep—made it impossible to fully relax.

His cock filled you completely, brushing against every spot that left your mind spiraling. The slow, deliberate way he moved, the way he stretched you open, had your hands scrambling for purchase on his desk. Your nails clawed at the wood, and you wouldn’t be surprised if they left permanent marks. Something you were sure he wouldn’t mind. 

“That’s it,” Suguru whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. “Taking me so well, sweet girl. Like you were made for this.”

Every thrust was deliberate, deep, and measured, as though he wanted to etch the feeling of him into every fiber of your being. He lifted his head to watch your face, his dark eyes locked on yours, taking in every gasp, every quiver, every plea that spilled from your lips.

“That’s my girl,” he praised, his voice dripping with affection as he cupped your cheek with one hand, the other still gripping your thigh, firm yet gentle as if he was afraid to leave a mark on you despite the harshness of his thrusts. “You’re perfect. So perfect for me.”

Your mind was overwhelmed, the sensations blurring together as his movements became more insistent, relentless in their devotion to unraveling you. Yet, through the haze of pleasure, a small, unwelcome thought surfaced, bubbling up in the back of your mind.

When was the last time you took your pill?

The question lingered, sharp and intrusive, cutting through the heat pooling in your core. You’d been forgetting so much lately—little things, big things, all slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. But it had to be fine. It must be a safe day. Right?

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice steady and low as his hips pressed flush against yours, burying himself to the hilt. “Don’t ever forget that.”

As the words sank in, a faint voice in the back of your mind tried to warn you, tried to remind you of the way Suguru sometimes felt too much. But it was drowned out by the overwhelming mix of his touch, his words, and the way he seemed to pour his entire being into you.

You couldn’t say it back. Whether it was the overwhelming heat, the way you could only let out these broken little whines and moans as your body trembled beneath him, or the way his hot, sticky release spilled deep inside you, filling you up until you couldn’t think straight—you just couldn’t utter those three little words. Some little voice in the back of your mind urged you not to. 

After a moment’s rest, with him carefully cleaning you up, you noticed the delicate way he helped you into some fancy lingerie—pieces he apparently had stored just for moments like this. The charm with “G.S” engraved on it caught the sunlight, glinting mischievously as he slid the panties up your legs.

“Shall we eat with Satoru?” he asked, his tone casual, as if he hadn’t just fucked you within an inch of your life. You could only nod mindlessly, clinging to his arm while he reached for the bag.

You didn’t miss the way Satoru hugged you when you walked into his office, Suguru trailing behind. The way his arms lingered around you just a little too long, his lips brushing your cheek in what felt like more than a friendly kiss. Suguru didn’t seem to notice—or maybe he just didn’t care. It was Satoru, after all. His best friend. His business partner. The two were inseparable.

You also didn’t miss the way Satoru draped an arm over your shoulders while the three of you ate. Suguru and Satoru were caught up in their conversation, filling each other in on meetings and plans, while you picked at your food in silence. Your mind was elsewhere, lost in the strange mix of sensations you couldn’t shake. The cum soaking into the new underwear, the lingering fog in your head, the circles Satoru traced on your arm as he kept you close. Your gaze flickered to the photo on his desk—a snapshot of the three of you. Perfect smiles. Perfect lies.

“Did you hear me, sugar?” Satoru’s voice cut through the haze, his tone teasing. “I was asking how the job search was going. You know, we could always work together again—for old times’ sake.”

You shook your head, forcing a meek smile. “I haven’t heard anything back yet. And the answer’s still no. I’m not into... medical research anymore.”

That was a lie. You were more than capable, but you didn’t want to work with them. You didn’t want to stay stuck in their shadow, even though you’d helped lay the foundation they thrived on.

Satoru chuckled, leaning back in his chair with that infuriatingly confident grin. The way his bright blue eyes glimmered with a glint of mischief. “Still so stubborn. You know, you were the brains behind half of what we’ve built. You’d fit right back in.”

Suguru’s voice cut in smoothly as if to diffuse any tension. “Let her breathe, Satoru. Not everyone is as obsessed with work as you are.” Suguru’s dark eyes settled on you for a brief moment, there was warmth to them, unreadable as always. 

You glanced between them, their banter as familiar as it was unsettling. They made it look so effortless, this balance of power and charm. But you knew better. You felt it in the way Satoru’s fingers tightened ever so slightly on your arm, in the fleeting glance Suguru shot your way when he thought you weren’t looking.

The rest of the meal passed in a haze, their conversation blending into the background. You couldn’t shake the unease curling in your stomach. It wasn’t just the situation—it was them. The way they moved around you like you were something precious and fragile, seamlessly passing control back and forth, a trophy they both claimed but never outright acknowledged.

When the meal ended, Satoru stood, stretching lazily before offering you his hand. “Why don’t you come with me for a bit? I’ve got something to show you.”

You hesitated, your gaze flicking to Suguru, who had already risen and was watching you closely. “It’s okay,” he murmured, his tone unreadable. “I’ll clean up here.”

Caught between the two of them, you nodded and took Satoru’s hand. His grip was firm, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that sent an involuntary made your skin crawl. He led you out of the office and down a hallway you knew all too well. His space. His domain. His lab. 

The door clicked shut behind you, and Satoru turned, his impossibly blue eyes locking onto yours, as sharp as ever. “You’ve been distant,” he said softly, his words gentle but edged with something sharper. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

Your gaze drifted over the room, landing on the metal tables scattered with sleek technology. Computer screens hummed with life, displaying endless rows of code, their glow casting faint shadows across the walls. This used to be your life—back in college, when the hum of processors and the thrill of breakthroughs consumed you. Now, it all felt foreign, like a distant memory you weren’t sure you wanted to revisit.

“I’d appreciate it if you kept a distance,” you said, your voice trembling just enough to betray your nerves. “I’m marrying Suguru, you know.”

The words hung in the air, a barrier you hoped he wouldn’t cross. But Satoru, being Satoru, ignored it entirely. You felt his warmth behind you before you even realized he’d moved, his tall frame enveloping yours in an embrace that felt far too intimate. His hands rested lightly on your stomach, his touch burning through the fabric of your clothes. You stiffened as his breath fanned against your neck, raising goosebumps along your skin.

“Sharing is caring,” he hummed, his voice low and teasing, sending a shiver down your spine. “Suguru doesn’t mind. In fact…” His fingers tightened slightly, grounding you in place. “He likes it when we get along.”

Before you could respond, you felt the wet warmth of his tongue trace along your jaw. The sensation jolted through you, a yelp escaping your lips before you could stop it. Satoru’s laugh followed, soft and boyish, a stark contrast to the tension suffocating the room.

“You’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear. “But you don’t need to fight it. We both know you don’t really want me to stop.”

His words left you frozen, the weight of his overwhelming presence pressing down on you, suffocating yet intoxicating. Do you want him to stop? 

A fleeting memory surfaced as you stood there, frozen in Satoru’s embrace. It was from the early days of your relationship with Suguru when you’d first brought up Satoru’s antics. You’d been hesitant, unsure how to address the way his lingering touches or overly familiar words made you feel. Suguru had only smiled, his voice calm and reassuring as always.

Suguru’s calm voice had soothed you then, his words steady and reassuring. “He’s harmless,” he’d said, the faintest smile tugging at his lips as if amused by your concern. “He knows, at the end of the day, you’re mine. Plus, the guy is ridiculously lonely. You’re his friend. He’s just comfortable around you.”

The words had settled over you like a balm back then, quelling your unease. Suguru’s confidence, his sense of control, had made it easy to brush off the way Satoru’s presence lingered in your life—always just a little closer than necessary.

But now, as Satoru’s lips brushed against your ear, as his arms anchored you in place, that memory felt distant. Suguru’s reassurance no longer felt like a safety net; it felt like permission. Permission for Satoru to blur the lines, to push boundaries that had never been as firm as you thought.

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” Satoru’s voice pulled you back to the present, his tone soft but knowing. His hands tightened slightly around your waist, a subtle reminder of his control of the situation. “It’s sweet, really. You always look so soft when you’re thinking about Suguru.”

You tried to pull away, but he only held you closer, his chuckle vibrating against your back. “Relax, sweetheart. I’m just keeping you warm. You’re the one who’s overthinking.”

Your heart pounded as you struggled to steady your breath. “This isn’t right, Satoru,” you managed, though your voice sounded weaker than you intended. “Suguru—”

“Suguru trusts me,” he interrupted, his voice smooth, almost teasing. “And you, too. That’s what makes this work, doesn’t it?” He shifted slightly, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he whispered, “He said it himself—you’re mine, too.”

You wanted to believe it was just another one of Satoru’s games, another way for him to twist the truth to suit his desires. But the memory of Suguru’s calm, reassuring voice lingered as if Suguru had already told you—subtly, indirectly—that Satoru had his permission.

though as of late it seemed like memories all seemed to blur together.

Your instincts screamed at you to leave. To get out of this room. To get away from him. From the person who used to be your friend, your lab partner. The one who would sit with you for hours in the library, pretending to study while sneaking glances at your coffee-stained notes. The guy who’d playfully nudged you into Suguru’s arms, making it all seem so easy. Was this all some kind of cruel fate?

“I have to pee,” you blurted out, the excuse too loud, too sudden, and too weak to be convincing.

Satoru didn’t seem to care. He eased back slightly, leaning casually against his desk, his ever-present smirk still in place. “Need me to walk you there?” he asked, his voice light, teasing—but his eyes betrayed him. That hungry look in his gaze lingered, stripping away any illusion of innocence.

“I’ll manage,” you replied, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to sound calm.

You didn’t miss the look in his eyes—hungry, possessive. Like he didn’t care that Suguru had touched you first. The thought of Suguru’s “seconds” didn’t bother him at all. As if plunging his cock into the leftovers of Suguru's cum would be a delicacy. If anything, it seemed to excite him, and the realization made bile rise up to the back of your throat. Burning. Searing. 

“Alright,” he said with a lovesick grin that might’ve been charming to anyone else. “I’ll have Suguru meet us here.”

For most girls, a man like Satoru was a dream—handsome, confident, untouchable. And he knew it. So did Suguru. Yet they both clung to you, always hovering just a little too close.

Satoru and Suguru had always clung to you, hadn’t they? From the beginning, you’d been their constant. Their focus. You wondered why that was—why they always had, and why they always would.

As soon as the lab door clicked shut behind you, the words hung heavy in your mind, echoing like a haunting refrain. It’s not assault if he didn’t do anything, right? That’s what you told yourself, over and over, as your breaths came in sharp, uneven bursts. You sprinted down the endless hallways, your heels clicking against the tile, your heart pounding in your chest. But no matter how fast you ran, the knot in your stomach refused to loosen, and nausea churned with every step.

You clutched at the memory of your friendship with Satoru, desperate for solace. He wasn’t always like this. He was your study partner, your confidant, the one who nudged you toward Suguru when you doubted yourself. But now? The person you once trusted felt like a stranger—no, worse, a threat.

Your head pounded, and the memories came.

At first, they were warm, and tender. Satoru laughed as he leaned over your desk, swiping your notes and teasing you about your messy handwriting before planting a kiss on your lips. Suguru sitting beside you on some date, drinking hot cocoa together while watching the rain. The three of you tangled together on a couch, their arms around you, holding you close as you drifted off to sleep in their warmth.

Suguru brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his eyes soft as he whispered, “You’re everything to me.” Satoru, his grin wide and mischievous, spinning you in circles during a rainstorm, both of you drenched and laughing.

The sweetness eventually curdled.

Satoru’s hand tightening around your throat, his blue eyes blazing with something unreadable. “You don’t get to leave me,” he murmured, his tone eerily calm as you clawed at his arms. Suguru holding a syringe, his voice soothing even as your body betrayed you, muscles seizing as the world faded to black.

You shook your head, gasping for air, but the images continued to assault you.

These memories can't belong to you.

Satoru pressing kisses to your temple as he whispered, “I’ll always protect you, sugar bear,” the warmth of his embrace lulling you into safety. Suguru kneeling in front of you, a ring in hand, his voice trembling as he said, “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember.”

The images were overwhelming, suffocating even, like a weight pressing down on your chest, stealing the air from your lungs. Your breaths came in ragged gasps as you sprinted down the endless halls, your heels clicking against the cold tile.

Occasionally, your legs faltered, forcing you to clutch at the nearest wall for support. Every step felt heavier, every breath harder to draw, as the haunting echoes of laughter and whispered promises mixed with screams and soft, deadly apologies. They chased you, just as real as the walls closing in around you.

Suguru standing over you, a gun in his hand, his dark eyes filled with something that looked almost like regret. “You always fight me on this” he whispered, and the shot rang out. Satoru’s voice, lilting and light, as he said, “Let’s see if you fly,” before pushing you off the rooftop, the sensation weightless and brief until impact.

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head as if you could banish the images. This isn’t real. This can’t be real.

You stumbled into a random room, your fingers trembling as you punched in the passcode—your birthday, of course. The door clicked open with a mechanical hiss, and you collapsed inside, your knees hitting the cold, tiled floor. The sterile air burned your nose, the faint scent of chemicals making the knot in your stomach twist tighter.

The dim blue light cast eerie shadows across the walls, the occasional beep of nearby machines the only sound besides your ragged breathing. You squeezed your eyes shut, tears streaking down your face as you tried to push the memories away.

Were they real?

Could they be real?

The warmth of their love clashed with the cold edge of their possessiveness, leaving you adrift in a sea of conflicting emotions.

You wiped your eyes with trembling hands, blinking through the haze of tears. The room around you came into focus, and your breath hitched. Large test tubes lined the walls, filled with glowing blue and green liquids, their contents swirling lazily as if alive. The machines beeped rhythmically, lights flashing in a pattern you couldn’t decipher.

But the images were relentless. Suguru’s hands pinning you down, Satoru taking free use of your body, the weight of their combined presence crushing you until you could barely breathe.

Each memory was like some cruel nightmare, swinging wildly between moments too sweet to bear and others excruciatingly painful. The contrast made it all the worse, the warmth of one memory twisting into agony in the next, leaving you gasping for air as you stumbled forward. Broken sobs escaped your throat as you crumpled to the floor, grasping at the cold tiles, desperate for something—anything—real.

You wiped your eyes with trembling hands, blinking through the haze of tears. The room around you slowly came into focus, and your breath hitched. Large test tubes lined the walls, their glowing blue and green contents swirling lazily, almost hypnotically, as if alive. Machines beeped rhythmically in the background, their lights flashing in a pattern you couldn’t decipher.

You stared at the tubes, your mind racing. This wasn’t a random lab. It couldn’t be. The passcode, the eerie familiarity of the room—it all felt deliberate, intentional. Like you were meant to find this.

Your headache worsened, the pounding in your skull syncing eerily with the beeping machines. You pressed your palms to your temples, desperately trying to shut out the relentless wave of memories—real or imagined—that threatened to consume you.

But as you knelt there, shaking and breathless, one question clawed its way to the forefront of your mind, sharp and insistent, refusing to be silenced.

Why had they always clung to you?

And why did it feel like the answer was hidden somewhere in this room?

You had to be going crazy. That was the only explanation.

Shakily, you pushed yourself to your feet, the sterile air thick and heavy in your lungs. Sniffling, your fingers trailed along the cold, metallic surface of the tables as you moved closer to the strange test tubes. The faint hum of machinery filled the silence, the swirling contents inside the tubes illuminated by the dim, eerie glow of blue light.

Your breath hitched as you leaned in, squinting through the glass.

They weren’t just shapes or fragments. They weren’t abstractions of human life.

They were human.

They were you.

The realization hit like a punch to the gut, knocking the air from your lungs as you stumbled back. Your gaze darted to the screen beside the tubes, its sterile, blinking message driving the truth deeper into your chest.

"Processing."

The word repeated in steady intervals, cold and mechanical, mocking you with its efficiency.

This wasn’t a lab for curing diseases or advancing medicine. This wasn’t about saving lives.

They were cloning people.

They were cloning you.

Your knees threatened to give out again, but you gripped the edge of the table, your mind spinning wildly. Fragments of memories, half-formed and blurry, clawed their way to the surface, demanding to be seen. This had been your research once. Cloning. You’d cracked the formula—found the key.

You remembered the argument with Satoru, his icy blue eyes flashing with a rare seriousness. You’d told him it was unethical. That it wasn’t righteous. That you can’t just play god. You told him you couldn’t live with what you’d discovered. That’s why you stopped. That’s why you stopped talking to him. That’s why you left research behind.

But what happened after that?

How had they gotten here—this point, with a cult-like following and resources beyond comprehension? And more importantly—where had you been?

The questions tore at you, each one heavier than the last. Pieces of your memory felt missing, like someone had reached into your mind and carved out chunks, leaving you with only jagged fragments.

Had they done this to you?

Had he done this to you?

And then, the darkest question of all clawed its way to the surface:

How many times have they done this to you?

Your gaze snapped back to the endless row of tubes, bile rising in your throat as the enormity of it hit you. Backed-up versions of you floated in a dreamless stasis, stripped of identity, reduced to nothing but a tool for their ambitions.

The room spun, the walls closing in, as the truth pressed down on you—suffocating, undeniable.

You weren’t just a researcher who’d stumbled too close to the edge.

You were the edge.

And somehow, they’d dragged you right back into it.

The realization shattered whatever fragile control you had left. Sobs erupted from your throat, raw and unrelenting, as the pounding headache in your skull grew louder, sharper, threatening to split you in two. The sterile hum of the lab faded beneath the weight of your anguish, until—

Crack.

The sharp, deafening sound of a gunshot shattered everything.

You didn’t even have time to react.

The world went dark.

“Guess we’ll have to start all over again tomorrow,” Suguru’s voice hummed, smooth and almost tender, as though he were speaking to a wayward child. “Satoru will be disappointed, but it looks like this version of you wasn’t going as well anyway.”

His footsteps echoed in the eerie stillness, unhurried and deliberate, as he approached the bloodied mess you’d become.

He crouched down beside you, his dark eyes gleaming with an unsettling mix of pity and resolve. The gun fell from his hand with a hollow clatter, the sound reverberating through the cold room like an accusation.

“You should really stop with all your antics, sweet girl,” he murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face with a tenderness that felt almost cruel. “It’s really heartbreaking to do this every time your brilliant mind starts to turn.”

Suguru’s hand lingered, disturbingly gentle as he smoothed your hair back, his touch so intimate it made your skin crawl—if you’d still had the strength to feel anything.

“You always fight so hard,” he said softly, almost like a lament. His gaze drifted over your still form, dark and unreadable. “But you know how this ends. You always know.”

He straightened slowly, letting his words settle in the suffocating silence.

“And yet, you never stop trying.”

Straightening, Suguru cast a glance at the tubes glowing faintly in the dim light behind him. His lips curled into a faint, almost tender smile, one that never quite reached his dark eyes. “Don’t worry,” he murmured softly, his tone as much for himself as it was for you. “We’ll put you back together again. Just like always.”

He knelt down, unhurried, his movements precise. His fingers brushed against your skin as he carefully slid the ring from your finger, the gesture deliberate, almost reverent. For a moment, he stared at the ring in his palm, his thumb tracing the smooth band. Something flickered in his gaze—regret, perhaps, or something far more calculated. He tucked the ring into his pocket with a quiet sigh.

A quick call to the “clean-up” crew followed. His voice was calm, clinical, as if he were ordering mundane office supplies rather than orchestrating the erasure of a life. The conversation ended with a sharp click, his phone slipping back into his jacket pocket.

Suguru cast another glance at the bloodied mess on the floor, his lips tugging into a sad, almost bittersweet smile.

“I love you,” he whispered, his tone heartbreakingly sincere, as though the words could absolve the horror of what had just transpired. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He turned, his fingers playing with the ring in his pocket, twirling it absentmindedly as if it were a trinket rather than a symbol of promises now rendered hollow. The door hissed shut behind him, the sterile room sealing itself in silence.

The hum of the machines was the only sound that remained, indifferent to the gruesome tableau they overlooked.

[narcissisticmf]

get up | bucky barnes x fem!reader

description: y/n is not a morning person and bucky tries everything in his power to ease her into the start of the day.

trigger warnings: fluff, some seductive behavior, domestic!bucky, etc. read at your own risk.

word count: <1k

The sun slipped its way through the closed curtains, shining brightly into the room. Your body was entangled within the sheets and thick blankets among your queen sized bed. You grumbled softly as the morning sun hit your eyes, causing you to slowly shield your face behind the thick blanket, no desire to get up yet.

You felt Bucky stir beside you, your back facing him. He must've been waking up. You felt his right arm slip protectively around your stomach, making you to groan softly.

You loved Bucky's affection, but receiving it early in the morning was something you were trying to get yourself used to. You hated physical affection in the morning and, of course, Bucky knew this but that didn't stop him.

"Mornin', sweetheart," Bucky mumbled into your ear with resonance. You gently moaned, clearly not ready to get up yet.

"You want some tea?" he asked, nibbling gently on your earlobe. You stayed quiet, but turned over to face him. You were so tired, and something unusual made you nestle closer to hin that morning. Your face disappeared into his chest and beneath the covers as his arms engulfed you tightly.

"Look at you.." Bucky whispered with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You released a soft huff and breathed in his scent. "What's got you so soft this morning, hm?"

"Shh," you whispered with a soft whine, no desire to speak yet.

To this, Bucky laughed. He pressed a warm kiss to your temple.

After a few moments of stillness that enveloped the room, Bucky dipped his chin down and pressed a lingering kiss to the apple of your cheek. "Cmon, sweetheart," he whispered as softly as possible. "Time to get up."

"Nooo," you dragged out softly.

"Yesss," he mimicked your tone with a smile.

"Bucky," you huffed and lifted your chin to look up at him. Your hair was matted against your forehead, your eyes glassed over the iridescent glimmer of them, and your lips were dry, slightly chapped.

"Y/N," Bucky smiled, sat up while leaning on his elbow, and cupped your face with his hands. You shivered at the cold touch of his metal arm, but relished in the light thrill.

"There's my girl," he grinned and leaned down to press a kiss to your nose. "Good morning."

"Morning," you couldn't fight your smile as Bucky leaned down to pepper kisses across your jawline and neck. You rested your head against the pillows and fluttered your eyes closed, admiring the feel of his warm lips against your cold skin.

He halted at your collarbone and seemed to question with his eyes if he should keep going. When you didn't protest, he sucked the skin over your bone.

Your body shuttered, leaving gooseflesh across your exposed arms.

"I felt that," Bucky smirked.

"Shut up," you laughed and nudged him off you.

He didn't fight you and laughed, shuffling off the bed. He turned to look down at you, still beneath the covers.

"How'd I get so lucky, hm?" Bucky crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at you with such an intense gaze, you felt your face go hot.

"Bucky," you whined softly and covered your face with the blankets.

"No, no, please.. don't cover that beautiful face," Bucky implored pathetically, leaning against the mattress to tug the sheets away.

You giggled when he clearly won the tug-o-war battle.

"There she is," Bucky grinned. "Come on, I'll make us breakfast."

This time, you happily obliged.

.

a/n: hi cuties!! i know ive been gone for a hot minute, i've just been swamped with my classes. i'm taking 4 lit classes this semester 🙄 someone tell me why i thought that was a good idea. ANYWAY ,, i hope yall liked this one! i've been seeing sm bucky content bc of thunderbults (can't wait to see that btw) so i thought to write a cute little fic this morning with him. and seeing sebastian talk shit on donald trump to the press is so sexy to me 🤭 okok i'll stop fangirling!! love yall! have a nice thanksgiving to my u.s. friends who celebrate! — angelina.

[judesprincess]

NSFW ALPHABET – Jude Bellingham

note: hii babes, how are you? look, this is my first time posting something like this and English is not my first language so i ask you to be kind and ignore any mistake pls

ps: let me know if you like this, kisses 💋

a = aftercare (how they are after sex)

he would definitely be extremely careful and gentle after sex. constantly asking if he hurt you and checking your body; he knows how rough he can be (especially when he is frustrated), so he is quick to take care of you right after you are done having sex. he cleans you up while kissing you tenderly and repeating how good you felt; he always asks if you have cramps from penetration and if you do, he makes a nice warm compress to put on you. he holds you protectively and cuddles you until you fall asleep.

b = body part (his and his partner's favorite part)

he loves every part of your body, but besides that, I feel like he's the kind of man who likes curves, so I feel like he's obsessed with your ass, like he can't stop slapping and squeezing it... he also loves kissing and biting it and the sight of it all red from his slaps drives him crazy... I bet he would love your hips, he just loves holding them while he pounds you from behind

you see, when we talk about his favorite part of him i think that this man is definitely very proud of what he carries between his legs (those celebrations and demonstrations don't tell me otherwise), he just loves how impressed you are every time you see him naked (no matter how many times you've seen him like that) and how much you fight to take him every time... i bet he also loves his biceps, especially when he catches you staring at them shamelessly

c = cum (anything to do with cum)

he definitely loves cumming inside you. for him, there is nothing better than finishing inside you and seeing his cum dripping out;  he'd never admit it out loud, but you both knew it was primal, he just loved the idea of ​​claiming you like that and he loved even more the way you trusted him to let him do something so intimate

d = dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he secretly wants to try anal sex with you, but he'll never ask you out loud because he doesn't want to pressure you into doing something just to please him

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

let's be honest, that man is a hoe, he's definitely experienced (especially for his age), but i think he had to hold back in the beginning of the relationship to keep up with you, since you weren't experienced (let's ignore the fact that i'm basing this on my lack of experience) and he didn't want to scare you or overwhelm you with the dirty things he wanted to do to you

f = favorite position (this goes without saying)

to me there are two sides to him, one dirty and naughty and the other gentle and caring; so I think there will be nights when he will put you on all fours and fuck you until you beg for mercy and other nights when he will go in the classic mommy and daddy style and make love to you softly and lovingly while whispering in your ear how beautiful and special you are to him.

g = goofy (are they more serious now? are they funny? etc.)

i think he could be the kind of guy who always wants to make you comfortable and easy, so I think he would make a joke or give you a reassuring smile when he sees you are nervous or tense.

however, of course, there are days when he is not in a good mood and maybe he will be more serious and focused.

h = hair (how well-groomed is it? does the carpet match the curtains?)

honestly, he is very clean and hygienic, but I don't think he shaves;  at most, I think he trims it a little (but he's definitely well taken care of)

i = intimacy (how are they at the moment? the romantic aspect)

like I said, for me he has two sides, so it will depend a lot on the occasion and his mood. there will be days when he'll be more naughty and maybe even verbally degrade you, but there will also be days when he'll be soft and nothing but compliments and sweet words will come out of his mouth

i think he likes to set the mood beforehand, even if it's something simple and, even if you say it's old-fashioned, you secretly love how thoughtful he is about it

j =  jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he definitely does this, always thinking about you and your body;  You are far from each other and have no time for FaceTime and Jude can't stop thinking about the nights of sex he had with you and before he can even think, his hand goes up and down his cock firmly, even though he knows that his hand doesn't even compare to anything you were capable of doing to him. Of course, when you are together, he doesn't even consider touching himself, always wanting you instead.

k = kink (one or more of your kinks)

• size kink: jude definitely has a size kink, he loves how different you are physically (in every way), how short and small you are compared to him; countless times you've caught him comparing the size of your hands and smirking at how small your hand is compared to his. let me tell you, that man definitely loves how different you are down there too, he absolutely loves how tight the fit is whenever he enters you

• praisy kink: that man loves to compliment and be complimented; he just loves saying nice things to you and letting you know how great you're doing. he also loves when you compliment him, when you let him know how good he makes you feel or how big he feels or even how gorgeous he is, it drives him crazy

• innocence kink: i might be crazy, but i think he would love the fact that you have no experience or little;  he would simply love the fact that he was your first and had to teach you everything, the idea of ​​molding you to his will would make him dizzy

l = location (favorite places to do the activity)

I think he is a reserved guy and, although he may allow himself to tease you in public sometimes, he always wants to keep his intimate moments away from anyone; the bedroom or any place in his house or yours (as long as they are alone) is perfect for him

m = motivation (what turns them on, keeps them going)

slightly anything; but something about feeling that you need him moves him in an unmatched way and makes him crazy with desire

n = no (something they wouldn't do, turns them off)

definitely nothing that would hurt you; also, i think he would definitely say a big no to sharing you with someone (no matter who it is)

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

that man seems like a spectacular pussy eater and he would definitely make you fall apart with those gorgeous lips

but he definitely loves a good blowjob, he just can't get over the image of your lips wrapped around his cock, he definitely loves to fuck your mouth

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual?)

it all depends on his mood.  if it’s been a bad day or he’s really horny, he’ll definitely fuck you hard and rough (but always making sure the penetration isn’t hurting you), but on those days when things have gone well, he’ll go in slowly and gently, setting a pace

but I feel like no matter what the pace, he’ll always want to go deep, deep inside you so you can feel him completely

q = quickie (his opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

while he loves taking all the time in the world with you, he also loves quickies—anything to feel you around him—and will take you anywhere in the house

r = risk (are they willing to experiment? are they risk-takers? etc.)

he absolutely hates the idea of ​​someone catching you in such an intimate moment;  it would be the death of him to know that someone saw you as vulnerable and exposed as that must be for his eyes only

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go? how long do they last?)

let's be real, have you ever seen the way that man runs for 90 minutes on the field?? you consider yourself a warrior for trying to keep up with his stamina; no matter how intense it was, there he is, dying to have more of you

t = toys (do they have toys? do they use them? on a partner or on themselves?)

i don't think he'd be too interested in that, although he wouldn't bug you for having some (although he would secretly be a little jealous); however, if you begged him, i think he might allow himself to use something like a cock ring

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

that man is a tease for sure, he would definitely tease you by blushing around him or being extremely wet and needy for him or even while you were struggling to get him

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he's definitely not the kind of guy who's going to be like a dead man while fucking; he'll definitely moan and grunt while mumbling dirty things to you

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

jude definitely has a "hero syndrome". he loves being your hero, no matter how silly it is; if you can't open a can or something, he's there to fix it quickly. it can be the most trivial thing, he'll want to fix it for you. he just loves the fact that you depend on him in some way – even though he knows it's lame, he can't help but feel that way – he always wants to be the guy who puts a smile on your face and who makes you feel safe and protected

x = x-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

i think we have more than enough content to say that he's huge (and he's definitely thick too);  you are absolutely struggling to take it all in

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

he is literally never satisfied. he always wants more and more of you and you just love how desired he makes you feel

z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he will only fall asleep after you, only after he is sure you are completely comfortable and satisfied.

well, i really hope you enjoyed it and feel free to interact with me anonymously (or not), kisses 💋

[hopesangelsprite]

So Anxious

Summary: It's strange, the things you make Illumi feel, so strange that he keeps his distance from you almost constantly. After a long day, though, he can't help but crave that strange, inebriating feeling.

Warnings: heavy petting, whipped/needy/pervy Illumi (possibly OOC), suggested smut, no editing, mentions of death/blood/etc. (yk just normal Illumi tingz).

MINORS/AGELESS ACCS DNI

It wasn't normal for the eldest Zoldyck son to feel fickle emotions such as anxiety or stress. Hell, it was hard for him to feel anything at all, and if his father caught wind of these developing feelings there'd be Hell to pay. That didn't stop the irregular beating of Illumi's heart as he calmly drove a pin deeper into the skull of his latest unlucky target. He was an older fellow and, from what Illumi had read, a crooked politician. That didn't matter to him, of course. The only thing bothering Illumi at the moment were memories of your arms around him, memories of the softness of your skin.

A frustrated growl escaped the slender male's chest as he drove the golden pin deeper than he should've thus ending the poor old man's life. Disgust painted its way across Illumi's features as he staired at the now lifeless corpse below him. He'd meant to keep him around a little bit longer.

"Hm? Dead already? Don't tell me you're losing your touch!", came the grating voice of his killing companion, Hisoka Morrow. Usually, Illumi let his distaste for the brightly colored clown settle in the back of his mind, but today was different. Today, he was high strung and ready to brutally murder the aforementioned male. Illumi directed a particularly sharp pin in Hisoka's general vicinity. "I'll kill you. Right here, right now.", he hissed earning an unfazed stare in return. "You've used that threat too many times for it to be affective.", the clown muttered while kicking the corpse into a nearby body bag, "Seriously, what's gotten into you? You've been acting weird all day and it's creeping me out.".

Illumi glared at the back of Hisoka's head and considered how much effort it'd take to remove it completely. After a second of thought, he deemed it a waste of his time and checked the time on his phone. The numbers '1:38 am' glowed from the screen almost tauntingly. If he was going to make it to your bed tonight, he'd have to leave now.

The dark-haired male looked up and found himself face to face with his mischievous counterpart. After seeing how long he'd stared into his screen, Hisoka could just about read Illumi's mind. "Go ahead then, loverboy, I'll take care of this old geezer. Don't keep your little lady waiting! ~". A nod was all Illumi could muster as he began sprinting back toward the city. Before he was out of earshot, he could make out Hisoka yelling something about meeting you some time in the future.

"Over your dead body.", Illumi thought as he caught sight of the glittering horizon. There was no way Hisoka would ever live to see the day that Illumi would allow something of his to be tainted by his presence.

Ten minutes.

______________________________________________________________

That's how long it took for Illumi to make it to the outside of your windowsill. Now, as he sat perched on the stone ledge jutting out of the building, he wondered if he should just suffer through the night and contact you in the morning. Consideration was another new thing Illumi found himself struggling with after you'd wormed your way into his life.

Just as he prepared to drop from the sill, he caught sight of your silhouette entering the room. His breath caught in his throat as he watched you stretch from behind your silvery curtains. All previous thoughts of leaving exited Illumi's mind and other... explicit ones began to make his head swim with need. Slowly, the assassin brought a bloodied hand to your window and began tapping incessantly. It didn't take long for your figure to still and cautiously approach the window. The closer you got, the more he found himself leaning into the cold glass. If you didn't open it soon, he wouldn't mind breaking in...

To say he wasn't amused at the brief flash of fear in your eyes when you finally got the courage to open your curtains would be a lie. When you finally slowed the beating of your heart and opened the window, Illumi was in the room before the glass was fully open. "I'm home.", he breathed out into the warm, vanilla scented room. You leaned forward a little to shut the window, not missing the blood and earth littering his skin and clothes. "I can see that...", you hummed with an eyeroll, "I almost pushed your ass out of that window.". Illumi let the threat slip through one ear and out the other as he took in your smaller frame. You'd happen to wear those dainty little pajamas he'd bought you not too long ago; the ones with the thin top and shorts just barely long enough to keep you warm at night.

The only thing that should be keeping your warm at night was him.

His eyes followed your figure as you rummaged through your closet for a second. "Here, take these.", you started while throwing him a pair of his joggers and underwear he'd left and directed him toward your bathroom, "I'll be here when you're finished". Illumi stood there for a moment and let his eyes trace your form before stalking off toward the bathroom. The quicker he was clean, the faster he could indulge himself in your presence. He wanted to lie and say that he was using you for some sort of personal gain, wanted to say you were a pawn in one of his many games. He couldn't though... not when he could feel the ice thawing in his chest when you held him close, not when your hands made him as weak as they did.

As the warm water washed the filth from his skin, any traces of the strength his father had instilled in him washed away with it. All thoughts left his mind as he breathed in your scent through clouds of steam.

When he finally finished showering and dressing, he crept toward your room door silently. He watched as you scrolled through your phone unaware of his prying eyes. Suddenly, your eyes met his and you sat up with a smile, curls falling into your face. "Don't just stand there, idiot! Come here and let me take care of you.", you beckoned. One second Illumi was at the edge of your doorframe and the next he was settled between your plush thighs. His eyes closed as you whispered sweet nothings into air while drying his hair with the towel he'd subconsciously brought to you. If you were to kill him now, he wouldn't mind in the slightest. It'd only be fitting considering how weak you'd managed to make him by simply existing.

"I've killed for you... and I'll do it again.", he whispered into your skin. It was a truth he would usually leave unspoken, a truth you'd suspected long before its uttering. "I know, pretty boy, I know.", you hummed softly while tossing the towel into an unknown corner.

"I want to consume you. All of you will be mine and there's nothing you can do to stop me.", he purred as you held his face close to yours and peppered it with cocoa butter scented kisses. "I know, pretty boy, I know.", you breathed just before your lips locked with his.

The kiss lasted a lot longer than the ones he'd dealt you in the past. This one was filled with unsatiable hunger, it was filled with greed. Illumi rose to cage you underneath him and let his lips roam every inch of your skin available to him. He listened to your breathing change, and he knew he had you where he wanted you. Carefully, with lips and teeth etching praises into your neck, he pressed your thighs against your chest and your ankles on his shoulders. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered the tinkling sound of the anklets he'd had designed specifically for you and his sweats became too tight for comfort.

Illumi broke away from the intoxicating taste of your skin and sat back to assess the damage he'd caused. You were a sight to behold; brown skin littered with hickeys, unshed tears prickling at your lash line, and clothes barely covering your body. Illumi wanted nothing more than to make those tears fall from your eyes and rid your body of the fabric separating your skin from his. Still, consideration nipped at the back of his mind as he observed the tiredness in your eyes as well. He'd been thinking too long, apparently, because your hands were back on his face pulling him in for another long kiss.

Illumi decided that he'd send you off to sleep with a treat.

A muffled gasp fell from your lips onto his as he snaked a hand between your bodies and began toying with you through your shorts. To his surprise, and delight, they were the only thing between his hand and that sensitive spot he liked to abuse. Illumi drank in the broken whimpers and moans you offered him with unabashed fervor. Soon, his lips wandered blessing his ears with the sweet sounds of your pleas. He found himself licking a long stripe up from the base of your neck to a sensitive spot he'd discovered not too long ago.

Illumi practically purred at the feeling of your nails drawing patterns into the skin of his back that would undoubtedly be left for him to see in the morning. "If anyone ever tries to take you from me, I'll kill them. Mine... all mine.. only mine.", he whispered into ear as he felt your thighs quiver on either side of him, "That's it, sweet thing. Come for me, I know you can do it. Make me proud.". As you came, tears slipping down your cheeks, Illumi almost came undone at the sight.

Curtains of long, raven-colored hair surrounded you, allowing your eyes to be trained on the dark ones peering down at you with a twisted look of love and warmth. As your consciousness slowly ebbed away, the comforting weight of Illumi's body on top of yours lulled you into a sense of security. Illumi watched you fall asleep as he removed his hand from between your thighs and shut his own eyes. He ignored the twitching in his pants as he too lost consciousness. It didn't bother him that he was falling asleep unsatisfied.

He'd simply have his fill of you in the morning.

[obae-me]

I have been asked to expand on the MC with trauma scenarios, and you know what, I need the comfort, so let's do it! (No these are not based on myself, I don't know what you're talking about....)

Also I've seen a ton of people's responses to the last one and just know that I am spiritually patting you all on the head and wrapping a soft blanket around your shoulders.

--

MC with ~Trauma~ PT 2!

Imagine an MC who has been mocked, berated, or criticized for their joys and hobbies. They don't do those things anymore or go to great lengths to hide them.

They never share their writing or their art with anyone. They are surrounded by demons and angels much more talented than them. The thing that they felt they were moderately talented in is below average compared to these beings... Everything they create is hidden in secret digital folders or kept in notebooks under their mattress or tucked in secret spots on their bookshelves.

They never sing or dance or play their instruments. They almost avoid the music room altogether. It's almost too painful for them to think about. If they attend a dance they just stand off to the sides... They don't participate in karaoke. They don't hum to their favorite songs.

They hardly cook, or garden, or read, or edit, or color, or knit, or crochet, or embroider, or anything else that they might enjoy.

Imagine some of the nosier brothers not realizing the pain that hides behind their passions and either playfully spying on them or digging up their secrets. Their hearts are fully destroyed when their human breaks down in tears. Now, every single day, every character encourages them to do what they love and giving them private time and space to do it in a place where they feel safe. They all hope that maybe one day MC will feel comfortable enough to share what they love with them but they will never pry it out of them, and all the while giving them the support they need behind the curtain.

Imagine Satan, Levi, and Mammon grouping together and creating a PowerPoint presentation. With Satan's organizing skills, Levi's technological know-how, and Mammon's morally grey skills of espionage, they gather all the characters together and teach a class on what to do and not to do around MC. Things like having a clear voice in text messages to keep them from having anxiety. Or not slamming doors, not entering their room without knocking, reminding them to drink water, knowing when to give them time to breathe etc. Everyone takes it seriously (some might say too seriously), including Belphie who didn't even sleep for a second during the whole thing.

What about an MC who takes on too much and never says anything about it? At first, Lucifer, Barbatos, and to a lesser degree Diavolo, are pleased that they've found a human with a strong work ethic and a love for responsibility. Little do they know that while part of that might be true, they are doing it because they are non-confrontational, a people pleaser, or try to prove their worth through success (or all of the above). They burn themselves out and forgo their other needs to conserve all their energy for the work that's been given to them, and it's not until it becomes a serious health issue that anyone really notices. They all take a blow when they come to know how much they had been pushing a human beyond their capabilities. So they tell MC to do less, not expecting the human to try and convince them that it wasn't an issue, maybe even apologizing for failing. Now they all have to keep an eye on MC and make sure they don't take things too far, and make sure that MC knows that their worth isn't tied to how much gets done in a day and they don't think of them any less for taking breaks or time for themselves. And maybe they all learn to take care of themselves a little more for it too. Especially one work-a-holic demon known as Pride.

How about an MC that hates the way they look? No matter what that might be. Body size, shape, height, skin-tone, skin-color, scars, blemishes, freckles, etc. What if it was drilled into their head since they were a child that they were not beautiful? What if they can't look into the mirror or take any photos of themselves without feeling sick? How about being around a demon like Asmo? Maybe resenting him, maybe avoiding him, maybe wishing they were like him. It probably would hurt Asmo to see someone hating themselves and their body so intently. Maybe it's because it reminds him of himself. Maybe they both have to sit down and rethink what beauty really means? It's a long process for both of them.

All of them work with the human with their image and not in a shallow way like trying to deny the things they have and who they are. They find ways around pictures, because there are more ways to keep memories rather than selfies and commemorative photos.

Or what if:

Beel: *In MC's room.* Alright, we'll just do some basic stretches.

MC: Okay, just tell me what to do.

Beel: Well, if you want, you can put on some music to make it more relaxing.

MC: Music? *Looks a little nervous.* If you want...

*MC then turns some music on their phone on the lowest setting and sets it on their bed.*

Beel: Um...you can turn it up more than that if you want.

MC: Louder? Really?

Beel: Don't you think it's a little quiet?

MC: Oh...um...okay... *turns it up by one more click.* Is- Is that okay? I can turn it down again.

Beel: *Opens his mouth, confused for a moment before shutting it again. In the quickest second, he's in his demon form.* Who do I need to find?

MC: B-Beel?!

[satellite-evans]

Hi! I saw that you’re taking requests..I wholeheartedly believe that Benedict is one of those ppl who are always warm like a human furnace sooo do you think you could write something about him keeping the reader warm when it’s cold outside (i.e, holding hands, hugging, etc.)

Much love😇💜

Warm Embrace

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Summary: You find solace in the warm and comforting presence of your husband <3

Word count: 874

Warnings: just pure fluff

A/N:

Thank you so much for your request nonnie, You guys make me the happiest girl in the world when you sent in not only request, but also asks or questions, it honestly and truly makes my day🥹🥹🥹

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The chill of the early winter morning seeped through the cracks of the old country house, the wind howling softly outside. You shivered, wrapping your shawl tighter around your shoulders as you looked out the window, watching the first snowflakes of the season dance gracefully to the ground. The room was dimly lit, the pale morning light filtering through the heavy curtains, casting a serene, almost magical glow over everything.

"You're awake early," came a familiar, warm voice from behind you. You turned to see Benedict, his hair tousled from sleep, standing in the doorway of your bedroom. He wore a simple nightshirt, the soft fabric clinging to his well-built frame, his presence comforting and reassuring.

"I couldn't sleep," you admitted, smiling at him. "The cold woke me."

Benedict's eyes softened as he walked over to you, his presence immediately warming the room. "Come here," he murmured, pulling you into his arms. His body radiated heat, and you sighed contentedly as you nestled against his chest, feeling his warmth envelop you. His embrace was familiar and secure, the perfect refuge from the biting cold.

He led you back to the bed, pulling the covers up as you both slipped underneath. Benedict wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. His body radiated heat like a human furnace, and you felt the chill melt away as he held you tight. The sensation of his warm skin against yours was incredibly comforting, a stark contrast to the cold air outside the bed.

"Better?" he asked, his lips brushing against your temple.

"Much better," you replied, resting your head against his shoulder. "You always know how to keep me warm."

Benedict chuckled softly, his hand gently rubbing your back. "It's a husband's duty to ensure his wife is comfortable," he said, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "Especially on such a cold morning."

You smiled against his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady and strong beneath your ear. "Well, you're certainly excelling at it," you teased, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back. You felt the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, each exhale a soft whisper of warmth against your hair.

Benedict shifted slightly, pulling you even closer, his hands roaming your back in soothing circles. "Stay here with me," he whispered, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "We don't have to get up just yet. Let's just enjoy the warmth and the quiet."

You nodded, closing your eyes as you relaxed into his embrace. "There is no place in the world that I would rather at than to be here with you."

The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in your cozy cocoon. The wind continued to howl outside, but you felt safe and warm within Benedict's arms. His fingers trailed up and down your spine, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

After a while, Benedict began to hum softly, the deep, rich sound vibrating through his chest. You recognized the tune – a lullaby his mother sang to him and his siblings when they were children. Violet told you that it was the only way her children slept, especially Benedict, who always found it difficult to fall asleep. The melody was soothing, and you felt yourself drifting off, lulled by the warmth of his body and the gentle sound of his voice. You couldn't help but wonder if Benedict would sing it later to his own children too.

Benedict continued to hum, his hands never ceasing their gentle movements on your back. He was like a living, breathing source of warmth and comfort, and you felt incredibly grateful to have him by your side. His warmth seemed to seep into your very bones, driving away any lingering chill.

As the morning light slowly brightened the room, you opened your eyes to find Benedict watching you, a tender smile on his lips. "Good morning again," he said softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. The look in his eyes was one of pure adoration, making your heart swell with love.

"Good morning," you replied, leaning in to kiss him. His lips were warm and soft, and you felt a rush of love and contentment wash over you. The kiss was slow and tender and felt like a warm lasting hug that you never wanted to break.

"Shall we get up and start the day?" Benedict asked after a moment, his forehead resting against yours.

You shook your head, a playful smile on your lips. "Not just yet. Let's stay like this a little longer."

Benedict chuckled, his arms tightening around you. "As you wish, my love," he said, settling back against the pillows with you still in his embrace. The sound of his laughter was like a warm breeze, filling you with happiness.

And so you stayed, wrapped in each other's warmth, savoring the quiet moments before the day began. Outside, the snow continued to fall, but inside, all you felt was the heat of Benedict's love, keeping the cold at bay. The world outside could wait; for now, there was only the two of you, nestled together in your own private haven of warmth and love.

[fuck-customers]

So y’all know how when you go to a clinic you usually end up waiting 30+minutes past your appointment time, and you get upset because you probably received a dozen notifications beforehand telling you to arrive early or else? Yeah, lemme give you a peak behind the curtain real quick. Spoilers: it’s management obsessing over money

So at my company, appointments are automatically only fifteen minutes long, but we have the opportunity to edit appointments to be thirty minutes long instead of fifteen, which we usually end up doing because of a mix of chronic understaffing (like only two people per clinic levels) and the fact that a lot of people need more than fifteen minutes to be taken care of, even for “simple” things like runny noses. Management doesn’t like that, though. See, going from fifteen to thirty means going from four patients (or customers in their words) to two, therefore half the money.

So they call us lazy, tell us we’re “triaging” and “pre-diagnosing” and will literally stop us from doing our jobs to make us explain every individual thirty minute appointment or added break. They also frequently change our equipment, our policies, our workflows, and don’t tell us until after, so we have to learn things on the fly or play catch up. Nearly 100% of these assholes have no medical degrees or certifications, and several of them have openly told me they’ve never worked in healthcare before

So yeah, next time you’re stuck in a lobby for an hour past your appointment, know it’s because someone without a degree gave the people with degrees garbage cans masquerading as medical equipment and told them to (for HIPPA’s sake know these are generic examples and not specific patients) sew together someone’s grandma’s face in fifteen minutes (we can’t, so you get pushed back) followed by seeing a car crash survivor in fifteen minutes (we can’t, so you get pushed back) followed by some traumatized three year old with a UTI in fifteen minutes (WE CAN’T, so you get pushed back), etc.

We’re trying y’all, but we just get punished for it and your wasted time means nothing to management’s money

I'd always just assume it was the bean counters that quadruple the appointments to squeeze more people in at a time for max profits.

My Rheum is especially bad about that. You get there the "mandatory" 15 minutes early, they'd call you back 2 hours past. Leave you in the room alone for another 45min to an hour, then take your vitals and after another 2 hours he walks in says "everything looks good and I'm sending in your refills." and walks out and it's over.

30 years of it and the supermarket still gives me grief when I take the whole day off. "You don't need the whole day for a 15 min appointment." Like they have never been to a doctor. My Rheum is the only one on my insurance for 350 miles. So...

-Rodney

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Quiet Ones 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader

Note: I really gotta finish my paper (don't worry I'm like 3/4 done).

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

The light is there again. Bright, green, searing into your vision as it shines against the wall, weaving in perfectly between the curtains. Every night. Taunting you. And in the morning, gone. 

Can you call it a pattern after only three days?  

You don’t know what to call it. You don’t know what he wants from you. If he wanted to hurt you, he would by now, wouldn’t he? Or is this a sick game he’s playing? Whatever it is, it’s madness.  

You sit up and grab your pillow. You cross the room to the door and close it behind you. You put the pillow on the couch and pull down the folded throw across the back. You don’t expect to sleep out here either but you won’t have to stare at the insufferable dot. 

You lay down on your back and sigh at the ceiling. You stare up at the plaster until your eyes close on their own. Your shoulders are tense, your back too, every muscle in you has been knotted for days. You tried a hot shower, even a bath, but both just made you feel vulnerable. You’ve never been overly comfortable being naked but now you feel as if he can see your every movement. 

You tried some exercises in an effort to loosen up too. Those only made you dizzy due to your lack of sleep and rationing. Those should be a sign for you to rethink your strategy but your only other option is to face the danger. You know better than that. 

You huff as the last gray days pile on you. You open your eyes and bring your hand up to your forehead, trying to rub away the stress. You pause as a gleam flashes over your flesh. You drop your arm back down and raise yourself on your elbows. 

Jeez. 

Right there in the middle of your chest is the dot, rather a sliver of it. You look up as it glints in between the verticle blinds. You drop back down. Fine, whatever, if he’s going to shoot, he should just get it over with. You hate this limbo. It’s easy when you know what you’re waiting for. This is just torture. 

A sudden jarring jingle cuts through the din. You sit up, heart beating. It isn’t the deafening gunshot you expected. The green laser ripples through the darkness as you stagger up to your feet and cover your ears. You follow the blaring noise into the bedroom. 

Your phone lights up on your nightstand, flashing as you cross the space. You grab it and quickly silence it, staring at the screen in confusion. You keep your phone on silent, always. You never really use it for more than your banking and emails. On the screen, you see a map of your neighbourhood and a speck pulsing at the centre; your apartment. Huh. 

You remember dismissing that feature before. Several times when you got the phone it kept offering to set up the ‘find your phone’ app but you figured you wouldn’t need it. Yet, here it is, chiming and chirping at you. It isn’t a coincidence. It’s him. 

You peer over at the window and the green glare pours through. You look down again and find the dot right there. You shake your head and back away, hugging yourself as you flee back into the living room. It’s all so messed up and confusing. You don’t get how this can be happening. 

You go into the kitchen. No windows to haunt you there. You put your phone down and lean on the counter as you hold your head. You blow out a breath and you close your eyes. 

You try not to let yourself ask the questions but you’re so tired, you can’t keep fighting this hard. Who is he? How did he find you? Was that day at the cafe the first? Were you so obtuse that you never noticed him before? Does any of it matter? 

The silence shatters again as your phone erupts in a cacophony once more. You back away and cup your ears. You’ve never done well with noise, especially loud noise, or too much at once. It’s a sort of dissonance that makes your head spin. 

You scramble to grasp the phone, eardrums pulsing, and you hit the button again to hush it. You close out of the app and a notification pops up at the top of the screen. For a moment, you’re confused. The only messages you get are obvious scammers or stupid adverts you need to unsubscribe from. 

‘Get some beauty sleep.’ 

You scowl as you stare at the text. What does that even mean? Even if the number is private, you don’t need to guess. You know it’s him. He’s messing with you. You won’t respond, not even in writing. You delete the conversation entirely and shut the phone off. 

You leave it on the counter and go back to the couch. The laser awaits you. You lay down under it and resign yourself to your fate. The only comfort is he’s still out there and you’re in here. A ripple of fear courses through you as you wonder how long that can last. 

👄

Your mail doesn’t come to your door. It’s left in one of the dozens of metal boxes near the front door. Typically you go down to grab it twice a week. You haven’t gone once in the last six days. You don’t plan on it either. You get digital statements for everything anyhow. 

Yet, that doesn’t stop the special delivery from sliding underneath the door. You’re in your kitchen when you hear the soft whoosh. You go to the doorway and stare at the envelope on your floor as you lazily stir your instant coffee. You’re too tired to react with more than a yawn. 

You think it could be a notice from the building. They usually leave one when they have to do an inspection. Yet, there’s not sign of the rental companies logo and the envelope is black. You doubt they’ve rebranded. 

You sip from your coffee and sit at your desk. You login to the portal and open up a task. You don’t need to worry about all that. You muster all you have left for your daily toil. It’s the one thing you can’t forego; the one thing you share in common with other people, you need money to survive. 

You empty the coffee with careless gulps as you key through several tasks. The hours drag by, the clock ticking in the corner of the screen, second by second, minute by grueling minute. The days don’t matter, they all blend together in this hazy purgatory. 

You’re drawn from your mindless typing by the agonising growl of your stomach. You’re starving. Those times when you do let yourself eat, it isn’t much. Finally, your humanly needs have overcome your lack of appetite. You can’t deny it any longer. 

You return to the kitchen with your empty mug. You go to rinse it and water spurts forth, for just a second, then the pipes grind and run dry. You put the cup in the sink and cross your arm. You march out to the bathroom and try the sink in there with the same result. The faucet in the tub runs a little longer but peters out to a single drip. 

Hm, maybe that’s what the letter’s about. 

You sweep back out and scoop up the envelope. Just bending down makes you see stars. You put it on the counter and go to the cupboard to take out the salted crackers. You unfurl the top of the sleeve and wiggle one out. You munch on the stale square and slip your thumb under the flap of the envelop and tear. 

You put down the crackers and rip open one end of the envelope. You shake out the contents. It isn’t a letter. Just a folded pamphlet with something smaller inside. You unfold the spa booklet to uncover the all-inclusive pass within. You drop both and grip your head. 

Is this some sort of bribe? Bait? He’s trying to draw you out and with what? The worst experience you could think of? The smells, the touching, the people... 

You put it all back in the envelope. You don’t want it. You don’t even want it in your apartment. Your safe space. He’s invading it little by little. He can’t have it.  

You go to the door and shove it back under the bottom. You push it as far as you can and fall back, catching yourself on the wall. Your head hurts, you’re tired, you’re stressed, you’re afraid. You just want everything to go back the way it was. You want to be alone. That’s all you ever wanted. 

👄

You use your phone to authorise the two-factor sign-in to your bank account. You set it aside after confirming and wait for the screen to load. Your heart nearly stops as you see the balance. A few times you came too close to the red but this is not what you’re expecting. There’s about fifty thousand dollars extra. It has to be an error. 

You click on your chequing and bring up the next screen. There is is ‘50,000’ in bold green letters but it doesn’t say where it’s come from, just ‘authorised payment’ next to it. What the heck does that mean?  

Right below it you see your work deposit. That appears as usual. Company name, amount, account number. So what happened? 

You click the chat icon at the bottom of the page and wait for an agent to connect. You go through the typical automated questions; what is your issue? Account number? All of that. When you finally have a representative and explain the extra zeros in your account, the response is only three dots. 

You shake your head. You don’t need this. You have enough going on. Your water’s still out, you’re almost out of coffee, and you haven’t even started work. Halfway through and it feels like you’ve only just started a new week. You frame your face as you await the response. 

‘Hello, miss. Thank you for your patience. We have found no error in this transfer.’ 

You lean back and whine. That doesn’t make sense.  

‘Can I know where the money came from?’ You type. 

‘The payee is listed as London Fog LLC. It appears to be a business payment.’ 

You close your eyes. What? That makes no sense. It... can’t be. 

‘Can you reverse the payment, please?’ You input. 

‘We can attempt to reverse this. This might take a few days to process. We will keep the ticket open until this is done.’ 

‘Thank you.’ 

You close out the chat. That’s as best as you can do. It’s all so weird and you can’t deny the nagging truth. It’s not an error or a coincidence. It’s that stranger. He is playing a very confusing game. 

Your phone lights up and your eyes flit down. You lean in to glimpse the notification before it minimises. ‘Happy hump day <3’. You quickly black out the screen and flip it over. Leave me alone! 

👄

You almost expect the knock on your door. Deep down, you knew it was coming. Noon, on the dot. It’s Wednesday. 

“London Fog express!” He calls through. “Ew, this one’s gone a bit bad.” 

You hear him shifting around before the handle turns without give. He wiggles it and sighs. He huffs and you can tell by his shadow he’s leaning on the door. 

“Look, jellybean, I came all the way here, even burnt myself on this thing,” he says through the door, “you know, I’ve had some late nights...” he pauses as you sit silent, unmoving at your desk. “You don’t have to do more than open the door and take the cup. Promise, I won’t try nothing. I mean, I’ve been pretty patient, haven’t I?” 

You press your fingers to the edge of your desk to keep from shaking. 

“Right, I guess... I haven’t even introduced myself. How forgetful. Name’s Lloyd, but you could call me like L or love bear or... snookums. Something sweet like that.” 

You can’t. You’re going to pass out from absurdity. This man is psychotic. 

“You know, I’m a pretty handsy—handy guy. I could fix that water issue you got going on--” 

Holy cow. How does he know—how could he? He wouldn’t be able to just shut off your water. Right? 

“See, I get you, baby face, you’re the quiet type. You like to keep to yourself. That’s fair but everyone needs someone. I see that now,” he rambles through the door as it groans against his lean, “I didn’t before. Then I saw you and everything changed. It’s me and you, cupcake.” 

You stand and shudder, walking stiffly around the corner and towards the door. You step up and try to see through the peep hole. It’s still black. You exhale and sniff. 

“What do you want?” You croak. 

Silence. The door shifts as he takes his weight off of it. He soles scuff on the other side. 

“Hi,” his voice softens, “how are you, jellybean?” 

You close your eyes. You just want an answer. You cross your arms and rocks, a soothing gesture as your nerves bubble up. 

“Yeah, that’s okay, I know you’re not much of a talker. We balance each other out like that. I’m doing okay, you know? Cafe was a bit crowded but I got your latte. Foam shouldn’t have fallen yet so if you just want to open--” 

“What do you want?” You step closer to the door and raise your voice. 

He scoffs into a hum, “isn’t it obvious, babes?” 

You open your eyes and bit your upper lip. 

“You, baby cakes. Simple as that,” he drawls, “so why don’t you grab your tea and we can have a little sit down.” 

“Go away.” 

He huffs and clicks his tongue, “don’t be like that, sweetie.” 

“I don’t know you--” 

“I’m Lloyd, your love bear--” 

“Stop. I want you to leave me alone.” 

Another sharp exhale from the other side. A lull that prickles across your skin. 

“I can’t do that.” 

You wince, “please...” 

“All you have to do is open the door, jellybean. You know I’m a good guy. I’ve been looking out for you. Every night,” something drags down the door. “You can’t lock yourself away forever.” 

You step back and lean on the wall weakly. He’s delusional and you’re so tired. You’re almost tempted to open the door just to get it over with. You sink down onto your butt and hug your knees. 

“No.” 

That’s all you say. It’s all you can eke out.  

He taps on the door lightly and sucks his teeth. “Well, guess I gotta amp up my game.” 

[whorekneecentral]

Christmas On The Farm

Erling Haaland x Fem!Reader

Warnings: family christmases, stealing a tree, use of an axe, getting caught, soft boyfriend erling, a few cheesy moments, fingering, oral (f!receiving), overstimulation kinda, penetrative sex (p in v), nipple sucking, creampie, getting caught in a different way :)

Word Count: 2,357

Author's Note: omg it's the big mannnn, anytime I think of erling, I think of the farm so here we are lmao - also this is for pookie too sorry lmao all her bfs are in here

merry smutmas series

--

Erling takes you home to spend the holidays at the Haaland Family Farm and you two end up being the only ones there. 

"Are we going the right way?" You look over at your boyfriend, the man driving through the snow.

Erling nods, "I promise I know where I'm going." He laughs, the wind shield wipers make a squeaking sound, brushing the snow away as he slowly makes his way up the road. He turns into the driveway, the snow really coming down as he parks the car.

"It's freezing!" You shouted, running up the front porch stairs to unlock the door. Erling rolls his eyes at your theatrics, getting the bags out of the car before following you into the house.

The door shuts behind him, Erling shaking the snow off of his hoodie.

The two of you had ventured up to the Haaland family farm for the holidays. His siblings and parents were supposed to meet you guys there but due to the snowstorm, their flights were canceled. They would be arriving on Christmas Eve rather than the 18th like the two of you so that left it up to you to get things ready for the holidays.

It takes the two of you an hour to defrost and get comfortable, Erling rearranging things to his liking and you were relaxing on the couch, finally glad to have your boyfriend to yourself and not have to fight for his attention during the season - though you had to give it to him, he balanced everything in his life perfectly.

"We should decorate," he announces, coming into the living room from the kitchen. You look at the man over your book, "okay, with what?"

Looking around, the house lacked Christmas spirit big time.

Before you could gather yourself, Erling's got you over his shoulder as he walks down the hallway. "I can walk, you know!" You say through the giggles, holding onto him.

He smiles, putting you down at the end of the hallway. "Where's the fun in that?"

You roll your eyes at his childish ways, letting him walk into the room first. The room was used for storage, all sorts of things packed away in boxes and containers. You flipped the switch, turning on the light as he looked around. Eventually you two found the boxes marked for Christmas - ornaments, garland, lights etc.

One by one you moved the boxes into the living room and you started on your tasks.

Erling braved the cold; something that never really bothered him - having his Norwegian blood and all - and strung the lights around the porch railing and roof.

You were working on the inside; wrapping the staircase in garland, changing the curtains to the red and green ones, hanging mistletoe, replacing the regular throw pillows for the holidays ones and things like that. Eventually Erling came back in, helping you with the rest of the tasks, a few miscellaneous things to do here and there around the house.

There was one box left, the big label on the top read ornaments.

"We need a tree," you looked over at him, your hands on your hips.

Erling smiles, "you look.. very wife like."

"Thank you, I guess," you laughed, "but we still need a tree. Do you guys have one somewhere? Did we forget it in the room?"

"You mean like.. a fake one?"

"Yeah, duh." You looked at your boyfriend, the look of confusion on his face. "We don't have one in the house but there's one outside."

"Okay where is it? In the barn or?" You trailed off, waiting for an answer.

"No, we can just cut one down." He says, tossing your hoodie to you. The sweater lands on your face and you move it, looking at the man like he was insane. "I'm sorry, we can.. what?"

"Cut the tree down. There's a few at the back of the property. It stopped snowing so we can make it and be back before it gets really dark."

You put your sweater on, looking for your coat. "Have you ever cut a tree down before?"

Erling shakes his head, putting his own coat on. "No, but it can't be that hard."

He was out the door before you could protest. You really had no choice now, did you? You followed the man to the barn, he pulled an axe out of some trunk and handed you a giant torch light. It was the blind leading the blind, the two of you trudging through the snow to find a Christmas tree.

Sometimes you really wondered what went through this man's head. Then you wondered if you were right in the head, following him through the snow in the dark to find a tree.

You find a few, settling on the biggest one you could get without it being too heavy to carry or too big for the house, and Erling started swinging the axe.

You took a step back; you trusted him but not when it came to chopping a tree down in the dark.

It reminded you of when you were a child, your father yelling at you to hold the light one way while he's doing something and you held it a different way.

So there you were, dragging a Christmas tree through the snow with your boyfriend. "Move faster," Erling says and you grumble.

"We don't all have superhuman strength, you know."

"Just hurry up, babe," he told you.

You grumble again, trying to move a little faster but between the thick snow, the heavy tree and holding the light, it was a little hard to do.

"What's the rush anyways ?"

"Well," he starts and you know that tone; something was wrong. "It's actually the neighbour's tree."

"WHAT?" you stopped, turning to face him. "WE STOLE A TREE?!"

He laughs, nodding for you to keep walking. "It's not that serious babe, just keep walking."

Sometimes you really wondered how you ended up with him as a boyfriend, but the fact that he made you an accomplice to Christmas tree theft is outweighed by how good of a boyfriend he is.

Despite all your huffing, you help him get the tree into the house in the snow off of it. It took about an hour of sorting for you two to settle on a theme for the tree; the classic red, green and gold. The ornaments hung off the branches, Erling strung the lights around the tree before finally plugging it in.

The two of you admired your work, his arms wrapped around you as he hugged you from behind, his chin resting on your head.

Your own hand rests on his, "I cannot believe you made me steal a Christmas tree."

Erling laughs, "is it really stealing though ? The tree is out in the open sooo.." He trails off, making you laugh. You turned to face him, your hands holding his jaw, "you're ridiculous."

He leans into you, kissing you softly. "'Tis the season for giving, baby."

"Yeah, sure."

"Speaking of gifts," he starts, his hands moving to rest on your lower back, pulling you flush against him. "I have one for you."

You brows furrowed, "it's the 18th, babe. You're a whole week early." Your head tilts to the side as you look at your boyfriend. The man smiles, shaking his head as he leans down to kiss you.

It clicks, you realize what his gift is.

"Oh," you giggled, the two of you shifting to the floor. "I like this kinda gift," you whisper, his lips moving to your neck.

"I knew you would," he mumbles into your skin, his cold hand slipping under your shirt. "Erling!" You shrieked, wiggling away from him.

The man smiles, "sorry."

He sits against the couch, watching as you undress in front of him. The leggings sliding down your smooth legs, pooling by your ankles before you step out of them, you pull off the sweater and that leaves you in the same blue set Erling loves so much.

You reach behind to unhook your bra but he stops you, “leave it on.” 

He pulls you by your waist back to him, his hand slipping down to rest on your ass before giving it a smack. You’re quiet, looking down at your boyfriend on the floor. 

“I like this,” he tells you, fingers rubbing over the blue lace. 

You smile, “I know.” 

He pulls you to lay on the floor, he’s sat between your legs with one on either side of him. You’ve propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him. Erling pulls the panties to the side, his eyes fixed on your pussy and he gives you no warning, pushing his fingers into you. The sound leaving your mouth was like heaven on earth to him. 

His fingers curl upwards, your back arching at the feeling. 

“Baby, please.” your hand reaches down to wrap on his wrist but he swats your hand away, managing to pull both to rest on your stomach and his free hand over your hands, pinning them to your stomach. 

You try to wiggle your hands away from him, trying to grab on something. “Behave.” He tells you, adding another finger.

You subconsciously spread your legs, giving him more room. Erling's cheek presses to your inner thigh, watching as your face twists, pleasure all across it and your hands stop wiggling, he smiles, satisfied. 

Erling can feel your eyes on him, he reaches for the blue lace you’re wrapped up in and tugs it down your legs, letting it fall to the floor with the rest of your clothes.

He shifts to lay on his stomach between your legs, leaving a trail of kisses as he works his way up to your cunt. 

Your eyes meet his, he knows you’re looking. He wants you to look at him. Your hips buck when you feel his tongue against your clit, your hand gripping on his hair. 

He knew you like the back of his hand, gripping your thighs to keep them in place as his tongue lapped your clit. Your hips buck, your way of saying you want more and Erling gives in - he always gives into you. Two fingers in you and he glances up to see your head tossed back onto the pillows, eyes fluttering shut and your free hand groping your tit. 

Between his fingers and his tongue, your orgasm was teetering on the edge; he knew that much. 

He pulls his hands away, the sticky fingers on your thighs. A whimper leaves your lips at the loss of fullness. 

“What- why’d you stop?” You asked, pouting at your boyfriend in disapproval.

Erling sits up, patting his lap. “C’mere.” 

You manage to pull yourself up, your legs feeling like jelly as you move yourself onto your boyfriend’s lap. Erling's hands resting on your lower back, fingers dancing up and down the curve of your spine. They run up once more before they stop on the clasp of your bra. 

He unhooks it, letting the straps slide down your arms and land on your lap. He brings his hands around to your stomach, once again his fingers slide up your soft skin before resting on your tits. 

“Erling,” you call, eyes fixed on him.

He hums, his focus on your tits rather than anything you had to say. Gripping his chin between your fingers, he finally looks at you. 

“Please,” you mumble, the desperation all over your face. Erling smiles, there's a look you've seen a million times over on his face.

You’re up on your knees, hovering over his lap, your hands under you as you undo his pants. Erling helps you, pulling them down enough for you to sink down onto him. Your hand rests on his shoulder, giving you a moment to gather yourself before starting to bounce on his lap.

You look at your boyfriend, watching as he kisses down your chest, over your tits before his lips wrap around your nipple, tongue lapping over it. Your hand tangles in his hair, his name falling from your lips.

Your back arches a bit, pushing into Erling. His hand moves from your hip to your other tit, fingers pinching your nipple, twisting and rolling it softly between his thumb and index finger. 

“God,” you breathe, a hand raking through Erling's blonde hair. 

You rock your hips forward and Erling's head drops back into the couch, his eyes fluttered closed.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” His hand pats your hip, “made just for me.” He tells you, your lips on his neck -- a trail of marks and sloppy kisses being left along his neck.

Erling can feel the way you were clenching around him and he knew you were close; you knew he was close, his eyes closed and head back.

His hand reaches between the two of you, his fingers finding your clit once again. “Oh my god,” your hips bucked, his fingers matching the pace of his hips, your body rocking back and forth to get the most out of your boyfriend. 

“C’mon sweetheart, want you to cum for me.” He says, knowing it won't be long more. 

He knew you like the back of his hand, every look, every touch, every movement, he knew you.

Between the two, he pushes you over the edge. The knot in your stomach comes loose and your boyfriend watches as you cum. The wetness wrapping around his cock, and with a few sloppy thrusts, Erling follows behind you. 

The two of you are holding onto each other like the other is going to disappear, giggly and love drunk. Your boyfriend peppers kisses all over your face, your arms wrapped over his shoulders.

It wasn't until there was a knock on the door that you two froze, looking at each other. "Erling?!" The voice calls from outside.

His hand covers your mouth, your brows furrowed and eyes widen as you look at him. His lips are by your ear, "it's the neighbour."

You move his hand, whispering back to him. "The lights are on."

"Shhh, they'll go away if we're quiet."

You look at your boyfriend, lips pressed together in an attempt to muffle your laughter. He really did make you wonder sometimes.

--

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[darth-jess]

GalaxyCon 2024: Meeting Hayden Christensen

I have never been someone who cares about famous people. To clarify: I care about them as human beings, like in a very general sense, the way I'd care about any other person I've never met before. I also don't really care to know much about the personal lives of my favorite famous people. For me, at least, knowing things about them can change the way I look at the characters they play, the music they write, or the art they make. And personally, I like to view these things in my own context, not within someone else's.

Because of this, I have never really become obsessed with any particular famous person. I've become obsessed with their art– their portrayal of a character, their music, their writing, etc… but never with the actual person. Why would I? I've never met them before, I don't know them, I don't know what they're like as real people.

So I never really understood those fangirls who scream or faint or start sobbing when they get to meet the Jonas Brothers or Taylor Swift. I totally did not get it.

Then, I got to meet Hayden Christensen this past weekend at GalaxyCon.

And let me tell you, emotional fangirls, I get it now.

I have never been to a con before, this was my first one ever and honestly I don't think any future con I go to will top this one.

I knew going into it I was going to be a little nervous. After all, even though (as I stated before) I don't really care about the actors who play my favorite characters, I can absolutely appreciate how much their acting affected me, how much the role they played on screen changed my own life, as well as their skill as an artist.

And because Anakin Skywalker has been my favorite character in all fiction since I was 6 years old– and has not changed since then– I was very excited. The only favorite characters I had before Anakin were Darth Vader (when I found out they were the same my 4-year-old brain nearly exploded) and Ariel from The Little Mermaid. I was 3 when The Phantom Menace came out, give me a break.

Anyway.

Waiting in line for the photo op on Saturday gave me so much excited anxiety, I felt light headed and a little sick to my stomach– and the entire time my husband was kind of making fun of me (not in a mean way, mind you, he was making me laugh). I kept telling him, "I'm too nervous, I want to go home!" – which wasn't true, but for some reason I kept saying it.

The photo op was super quick, I remember Hayden saying something nice, like "Nice to meet you" or something like that (or maybe I said that?). I only had time to hand Hayden the Anakin Skywalker replica lightsaber I'd gotten the day before and ask him to hold it! I think he said something else, but I literally don't remember because I sort of blacked out.

I barely remember taking the picture.

Then, later in the day, we waited in line for two hours (it was worth it) to get his autograph and the entire time I was trying to stay calm because I was worried that when we got to him I would just stare at him blankly, unable to say anything.

The line was soooo long, and he was sort of blocked off behind these curtains– I think the curtains are there as much for him as they are for the fans. I imagine if he could've seen how long the line was, he would've wished for Anakin's robotic arm to do all those autographs. I would have, for sure.

When we were ushered through the curtains I could literally feel every single beat of my heart, I could hear it in my brain. I felt lightheaded again, and I turned to my husband and said, "I think my heart is going to explode."

Something I noticed as we got closer was that even though he looked kind of tired, he was still nice to every single person in line and made every interaction special. I have no idea how many autographs he'd already done that day– hundreds at least– and he was still trying to talk to everyone who'd come to see him.

Finally, we got to Hayden and he looked me right in the eyes (and like holy aslkdfj that gaze is intense– NICE, but intense) and he said something like, "How are you today?"

And I said, "I'm good, how are you? It's so nice to meet you!"

I have no idea what he said after that because my heart was beating SO LOUD, but he said something nice in response.

And then I finally remembered what I wanted to tell him, so I said, "Anakin was always my favorite character."

He smiled real big while he was signing our poster, and he said, "Thank you, that means a lot to me!"

I wanted to say more, like:

"How much of yourself do you feel like you put into Anakin's character?" – This is something I'm always curious about, because as a writer I feel like I put so much of myself into my writing.

Or:

"I hope we get to see you in more Star Wars projects!"

Or even just:

"I'm so happy you're getting the recognition you deserve."

But I was honestly lucky I'd been able to speak at all, and at this point, nothing else was coming out. And I was slightly worried that if I spoke again I'd say something weird or not make any sense at all.

So my husband took over, and he held up the photo we'd taken earlier from the photo op and said, "Thanks for making me look like the third wheel!"

And Hayden laughed– he actually laughed– and made some kind of joking reply but I sort of blacked out there too because I was so embarrassed!

Finally, my husband said what I'd really wanted to say, "We're just really happy to see you finally getting the recognition you deserve."

And Hayden smiled and nodded, and said, "Really, thank you guys so much, that means a lot."

And then he shook our hands and said it was nice to meet us, and it was time to go. We walked out, and I had tears in my eyes, my heart was still racing, and my whole body was shaking. I turned to my husband as I held onto his arm and I said, "I literally can't feel my legs."

Moral of the story: Hayden Christensen is literally so nice to his fans, so if you ever get the opportunity to meet him, I highly recommend it. He's not going to remember the interaction, but I guarantee you will for the rest of your life.

Also, don't judge fangirls for getting emotional.

[thefanbasewhore]

Halloween Special - Bitten. 👻🕸️

pairing: Hyunjin x female reader

summary: your boyfriend bites you for the first time which causes him to go into a biting frenzy.

content: s!mut, biting, blood play, p in v, vampire Hyunjin

a/n: next up werewolf chan

Hyunjin is much like the moon. He comes and goes, sometimes it may be just a quick moment, much like a crescent or in your face and bright just a full moon but he always finds himself seeking comfort in the warmth of skin against his own.

It's been a month since he revealed his identity to you. He was hesitant at first, but you are no fool. If it wasn't his smooth pale skin and amber eyes that gave him away; it was definitely when you found him fangs deep inside a women's neck.

Ever since that day all he's thought about is you. The only person he could be his true self but truth be told he was smitten the moment he met you.

As he climbs through the window, a chilly breeze follows. Your body reacts almost instantly, small bumps forming against your skin as he closes it tightly.

Sound asleep you don't notice the new presence. It's usually like this, he sneaks in and curls into you. Morning comes before you realize he's there, the curtains pulled tightly to block the sunlight confirm his presence before your fingers find his hair.

But it's early - too early for him to be here. The sun just took its rest nearly minutes ago.

You look so cute. Silently sleeping, curled into the satin pillow. A pajama shirt with cherries, button down to reveal just enough of your round breast and matching shorts, your cute little pink panties pepping through. He sighs softly, just the sight makes Hyunjin hard.

Without a second thought he is spooning you from behind, rutting his semi hard cock against your ass.

"Petal, wake up beautiful." His voice is so soft as it whispers against your skin. "Missed you so much."

His hips grind against your clothed core as he lets out a pathetic whine. Needy and wanting attention as he kisses your lazy lips. "Babyyyy."

His lips against your neck are nothing new, pressing and sucking softly. Finally your eyes flutter, soft lashes tickling his skin. "Hi, Darlin'."

"Hi, you're here early. I was trying to stay up."

"Looked so cute sleeping." He grinds his hips once again before rolling to change the position. Hovering over you, eyes on yours with his sweet smirk. "Got me so hard."

The soft moan of his name is what makes him snap, pressing his mouth against your neck. He swore he wouldn't feed from you for the pure fact that he was afraid he would go too far but it's been days since he's last fed.

Hyunjin's fingers press into the fat of your hip, no doubt blanching the skin underneath as he moves his hard cock over your clothed clit once again. He closes his eyes, trying to concentrate on how good he's feeling but the pesky sound of blood running through your jugular makes his teeth retraction, popping out from his gums. He groans, your blood smells so good.

He can't think - you take over all his senses. Arousal seeps from you, the smell high in the air making him moan against your skin. "Darling, petal, god." He groans.

When his teeth puncture your skin it makes you yelp in surprise. He's never drank from you before, always going on about the consequences, etc. He always jokes about it when it comes up, claiming he's already too obsessed with you if he drinks your blood you'll have to marry and stay his forever.

But with his teeth buried in you, sucking softly as you fight against him, pushing against his chest to create some distance but you have nothing on his supernatural strength.

"Hyunjin!" You hiss, feeling the warmth of the blood trail that follows down your neck and into the valley of your breast, which your shirt was already split open from his wondering hands.

What you least expected was the warm coil that formed inside your stomach. Suddenly you feel hot, forehead burning and dizziness taking over at the loss of blood. The dark haired man never stopped moving his hips against your own - clit throbbing against the material of your pajama pants before the stimulation became too much. Finally the squirming of your orgaism breaks him from his trance.

"Fuck," forehead resting against your own as he breaths heavily, "Did you just come from that? You dirty, dirty girl."

Blushing under his stare but it's cut short as his tongue follows the trail of blood, licking the thick liquid, nimble fingers pushing your shirt sleeves over your shoulder and sliding it down the length of your arms before throwing it across the room.

He licks up the remaining, tongue finding the bud of your leg nipple and sucking softly. He pulls away and one hand cups the flesh gently, "Look at this, you're loving it baby girl, do you like me bittingyou? I'll bite you some more honey."

His teeth puncture the skin of your right tit, breaking the skin and suckling every ounce he can manage. There's something strange about it, it's painful but at the same time you have never felt such pleasure. The goosebumps are instant as you shiver underneath him.

"Are you okay baby?" His hand moving the hair from your forehead. To be honest, you're a little dizzy from the loss of blood but you nod in agreement. "I didn't take to much, right?"

"M okay." You mumble against the shell of his ear.

"Okay, honey. Can I put it in? I'm so hard." You nod in consent as his long fingers pull at your shorts.

He doesn't even need to warm you up. Between the stickiness of your last two orgasms and his own leaking wetness.

Hyunjin doesn't offer a warning, the sudden feeling of his heavy cock is a burning but pleasure able stretch that causes a shriek to rip through your swollen lips.

His eyes roll back into his head as your pussy pretty much sucks his cock up inch by inch. Two cold fingers tease the bundle of nerves and rub circular motions as he sinks every inch of his cock until he’s nestled so deep you feel him in your stomach. The delicious burn makes you lightheaded, so full of him it’s hard to form words.

You curses under your breath but he barely notices, eyes fixated on the filthy sight of him stuffed so deep inside you. Hips against hips as he tries to press the rest but the intrusion sends sparks up your spine. He stills, eyes finding yours for one last time before testing the waters with a deep, sensational thrust.

The squeal that falls from your lips is one of pleasure and pain but straight up sinful and he groans on his own accord as your cunt cleches around his throbbing cock.

"Such a tight pussy, honey. Did she miss me?"

It's more retoric as his hips snap faster and faster. Watching his fat cock disappearing and reappearing from your silky cunt over and over again. The sounds that fill the room are mixes of Hyunjins and yours followed by the slapping skin and squelches of your leaking juices. Pleasure tingles up his spine every time he hits that spot that makes your vision blur and drool gather at the corner of your lips.

"Pretty girl," he presses a gentle kiss against the corner of your lips. "So pretty."

Just like that, his legs begin to shake. Covered in your slick as your own body erupts with heat. Stomach aching with the familar feeling of incoming relief. With every push of his hips come deep, rough strokes that hit that spot that makes your stomach ache.

He loves the sounds you make, the quiet but beautiful moans. The way his name is whined and permanently on your tongue. His hips continue rolling as he watches your pussy drip into the sheets. It smears his abdomen, leaks down his thighs following the dripping blood from your neck.

Back arching off the mat, pushing him deeper inside of you, if that’s even possible. A hand rest against the small of your back giving him a better angle to continue to fuck you senseless. “Hyun! oh, so fucking good!“

Half crescent form from the pressure of his nails digging into the flesh of your hip as you whine. “I’m so close!”

The whine has him groaning with relief feeling his own balls tighten at the words. “Baby, I have to cum. Can I bite you, will you be okay?"

The smell of your blood is intoxicating as his teeth rub against the other side of your neck.

“Can I, baby?" He visibly chokes as another wave of heat warms his belly.

The moment his teeth break through your skin, your orgasm hits like a truck - clenching around him so hard that his hips sputter but he continues to drive his dock so deep inside of you that your legs begin to shake.

He hits a spot so deep and explodes, lining his thick ropes of cum into your pussy and stuffs you to the brink. There’s so much as it drips from where the two are still connected but he doesn’t dare move. He pulls away, blood smeared across his lips as he presses his wet lips to your cheek.

"You taste so good baby." But the moment he looks up, his eyes widen. Both his hands hold your cheeks to keep your head from falling back. Eyes hooded as the dizziness takes over you.

"Shit, Can you hear me? I'm so sorry, baby. I didn't mean to take too much, you should have said something." He's frantically taking his wrist and breaking the skin with his teeth, "Drink, baby. I took too much."

"'m okay." You try with all your strength to push his arm away but he's not having it.

"Drink." Your lips wrap around his skin and suck softly to taste the metallic liquid. "Don't ever do that again, tell me if it's too much."

"Sorry, H." You snuggle yourself into his chest as he brings you closer.

He presses a gentle kiss against your forehead as he cleans the mix of blood and spit from your skin. "Go to sleep, angel. I will make you breakfast when you wake up. My blood will help but you need to rest."

"I'm okay."

"Stop being so stubborn and let me take care of you." He burries his head into your hair before pressing a kiss against the shell of your ear. "Goodnight, my love. Sweet dreams."

"Night, baby."

[phoward89]

Masterlist

Dark!Coryo, Dark!Peacekeeper Coryo, Innocent!Reader, Delulu!Coryo, obsession, manipulation, toxic relationship, cussing, slight smut (clit rubbing), etc

Chapter 6:

Coryo blinked his eyes open as the harsh morning sunlight streamed thru your bedroom window. Unlike his windows back in his family's Capitol penthouse, yours didn't have curtains. He groaned, not wanting to wake up just yet.

Looking down, he smiles as he takes in the sight of you curled into him. Your head’s still resting on his chest, using it as a pillow, while your arms are slung around him; your legs are entwined with his too. To him you look so ethereal, like a beautiful angel, as you slept clinging to him.

The platinum blonde peacekeeper felt like the luckiest man alive with you snug in his arms. Despite the turn that last night took between you (him pushing you a little too hard for your first time) he felt like this was the perfect morning after. Just watching you peacefully sleep in his arms, the early morning sun radiating brightness on your skin, was enough to bring a lopsided smile to his face.

Lazily, he ghosted his long, calloused fingers over your bare back. He traced his fingertips with a barely there touch up and down your spine, just watching you and waiting for you to stir. And eventually, you did stir.

Feeling a featherlight touch on your spine, you shiver and open your eyes. Looking up at Coryo, you groggily smile, “G’morning.”

“Good morning, beautiful.” Coryo smiled, pressing a kiss against your lips.

You've never been given a good morning wakeup kiss before, so naturally you blushed and smiled sillily into the kiss. A kiss which deepened fairly quickly due to Coryo's hunger for you.

And the boy was hungry for you all the time. He had a desire for you, like a starving man has for a meal. You're the water to the platinum peacekeeper's unquenchable thirst. You're the only thing to satisfy the longing in Coryo's dark soul because you're the sunshine to his dark days.

“Coryo, we need to get up.” You sighed, trying to push your boyfriend away from you as he planted kisses up and down your jawline while rubbing your ass with one of his large hands.

Pulling his lips from your jaw and looking at you, he seriously asked, “Can you be quiet?”

“Why?” You counter, hoping he wasn't alluding to sleeping together, again, this morning.

“I'll let you be on top, go your own pace.” Coryo tells you as his hand, that was on your ass, stopped rubbing it and slid between your legs to tease your folds.

“Coryo, it's morning. We should get up.” You protested, breath hitching as his middle finger slid up and down your folds, only to stop and teasingly rub your clit.

“As long as we're quiet we shouldn't get caught. Plus, your brother was drinking an awful lot last night; bet he's still asleep.”

“Rein always drinks, that's nothing new.” You told your boyfriend, causing him to frown.

“So your brother's a drunk?” Coriolanus rhetorically asked. Shaking his head, heavily sighed, “I don't like that, baby. Dunks don't have a good hold on their senses; what if he hurts you when he's 3 sheets to the wind?”

“He won't-” you began, only for him to interrupt you with a firm, “But what if he does, Y/N? There's always a first time when it comes to being drunk.”

Coryo knows first hand how getting drunk can impair and impact your judgment and senses. Hell, he lost his virginity to some random girl in an alleyway behind a club because of a drunken bet with Festus Creed. He was drunk off his ass on posca that night. But it did earn him a bit of a reputation; began his secret life of being a fuckboy too…

But anyways…

“Why don't you let me inquire about a place for us. One in the nice part of the district, close to the barracks?” Coryo suggests with a smile. His hand, that's not between your legs teasing you, gently cups your cheek as he hums out an assuring, “Hmm?”

“I dunno, Coryo.” You shakily said, feeling yourself grow wetter from his fingers teasing your folds.

“How bout if I find a nice place we'll check it out? Hmm, my darling rose?” Coryo suggested, softly stroking your cheekbone with the rough pad of his thumb.

You curiously raised a brow, “But I thought that Peacekeepers can't marry or live with a woman?”

“Privates can't, but I won't be one for long because I'm going to pass my Officer's Exam; I'm going to be able to give you the life that you deserve.” Coriolanus replied with such conviction, that his word had to be solid and true. With a charming smile, he adds, “Plus, for time being, I can head out of our place early and get to base before wakeup call.”

“This is all so sudden, Coryo.” You honestly told him, since you did feel like everything was happening out of the blue. As if you blinked and your entire life just changed.

The platinum blonde in your bed didn't like hearing that. In fact, it wasn't the answer he wanted to hear. It concerned him; made him afraid that you'd push him away. What if last night had anything to do with your thinking? Oh, Coriolanus knew that he had a lot of damage control to do when it came to you.

He couldn't lose you. Not now. So, he had to lay the charm on thick.

Removing his hand from between your thighs and using it to run soothing circles on your lower back, Coryo told you with an unnatural gentleness in his rough baritone, “Baby, are you leery of being serious with me because I got a bit carried away last night? And be honest with me, okay?”

“No.” You shook your head, causing Coriolanus let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding.

His eyes bore into yours, looking for an explanation to why you're hesitant on him finding the two of you a place. You knew you needed to give him an answer to why you're hesitant about it, but you're not sure if your explanation would make sense to him. So, you worry your lip and try to find the right words to say.

Using his thumb to pull your bottom lip free from your teeth, he lightly scolded, “Don't bite your lip, baby.” Soothingly rubbing his thumb along your bottom lip, Coryo implored, “Talk to me. Tell me what's wrong so I can fix it.”

He was secretly hoping that you're being honest about not being freaked out bout last night's rough fucking. He still thinks he has a lot of charm and damage control to lay on you for that.

“It's just…” You sigh, only to carry on with your explanation of, “One day we’re friends, the next I'm your girl, and now you're talking ‘bout getting our own place.” Shaking your head, you admit the truth of your situation. “It just seems fast, you know, since it's all happening within like a week of meeting.”

And there it is. You're afraid of how this looks. Probably because you're a poor district girl and he's a peacekeeper. Coriolanus isn't dumb, he knows that district citizens hate peacekeepers; look down on relationships between district girls and peacekeepers.

“But we've got love at first sight on our side, darling.” Coryo tells you in the most loving tone he can muster. Bringing his forehead to rest against yours, he swears, “What we have other people would kill for. Love at first sight’s very special and I'll be damned if I let district social rules keep us apart.” His hands lovingly caresses your cheeks as he declares with a twinkle in his baby blues, “I love you and I'm going to take good care of you, Y/N, no matter what.”

That love declaration took you aback. You honestly weren't expecting it, but it did touch your heart. Even if he loves you more than you love him right now (you really like him a lot, but you're still on the fence post about whether or not you love him), you're willing to give him a chance. Coryo loves you so much, after just a few meetings, that he swears to take care of you.

That's not something to take lightly, especially in the hard scrapple district of 12.

A man willing to take care of his girl, no matter who he is or what he does, is a huge declaration of love and devotion. Or at least it is in the poverty outlying districts. And it's a sure sign that the man's a keeper.

So, despite Coryo being a peacekeeper from the Capitol, in your books he's a keeper.

“I love you too, Coryo. And I'll let you take care of me.” You replied with a smile, because you couldn't afford to lose him. Not when everything you've been raised to believe is screaming at you that your boyfriend's a good man; a man that you need in your life.

“So, you agree to me finding us a place then?” Coryo asked, testing you to see if you'd truly let him take care of you or not.

What did you have to lose? You live in a glorified wooden shack with your miner brother that drinks too much and his barmaid girlfriend. You got fired from your job and so far no other shopkeepers are willing to hire you either. Coryo's certain that he'll pass his Officer's Exam, will be sent to a nicer district to train and serve. And since he promised to take care of you always, he'd surely bring you to a nicer district.

Right?

So, although his love seems all consuming and a bit suffocating, it's also redemptive in a way- in a way that'll give you a better life then the hum drum and depressing one you currently have.

So, you nod and tell Coryo, “Yes, you can find us a place.”

“Good to hear, baby.” Coryo grins triumphantly before kissing you.

But before the kiss has a chance to turn heated, Ashlie's voice calls out from the kitchen with, “Y/N, wake up! I need help with breakfast!”

“Damnit, she would be up.” Coriolanus grumbled under his breath. He knew that he couldn't fuck you this morning, not with your sister-in-law up and wanting your help with breakfast. It'd be too risky; you'd be caught for sure.

“I’ll be right there!” You called back before flinging the blanket off and untangling yourself from Coryo.

When you looked down and saw the blood on the sheet paired with the dried crimson on both your thighs and Coryo's cock you froze. Your eyes blinked and you just stared at it. The reality of what happened last night hits you full force like a freight train from 6.

Coryo quickly realizes what's got you zoning out, so he sits up and cups your cheeks- making you look into his crystal clear blue eyes. “Y/N, it's okay. The blood’s normal for a virgin’s first time.” He assured you in a gentle tone. “Don't be scared, everything's fine, darling.”

“Everything's not fine, Coryo. I'm going to get in so much trouble come laundry day…”

“Okay, how bout we hide the sheet in your closet and clean it ourselves? Hmm?”

“We don't have a bath or a shower, Coryo. There's going to be a bloody washcloth as evidence too.”

“Jesus…you don't have a fucking shower?” Coriolanus couldn't believe this. It's worse than he thought. You live in fucking squalor. Oh, he definitely needs to get you out of this shithole.

No future First Lady of his is living like a fucking peasent. Not when he can help it.

Damn, even he had a shower back in the Capitol and his family didn't have a pot to piss in.

“No.” You shook your head.

“Listen to me, darling.” Coryo orders before telling you the details of his sudden plan, “You stay right here and I'll grab a wet cloth from the bathroom, then I'll clean us both up. After we get dressed, you'll go help Ashlie with breakfast and I'll strip the bed- hide the sheets and the washcloth in your closet and put clean sheets on before joining you in the kitchen.”

“Okay.” You nod, causing Coryo to get out of bed and put on his boxers before going to the bathroom to grab a washcloth in order to set your plan in motion.

“Morning, Y/N, did you sleep well?” Ashlie asked as you stepped into the kitchen. Your hair, much to Coryo's urging, was placed over your shoulders to hide the love bite he left on your neck last night. You hope that it's not noticeable to Ashlie, because that'd just be embarrassing to have to explain.

But unknown to you, Ashlie heard everything-

EVERYTHING-

last night because, despite telling you to shut up, Coriolanus wasn't quiet at all. In fact he was loud and the bed banging against the thin wall was loud too.

So Ashlie knows what happened last night, or at least she has a good idea of what happened.

“I'm making oatmeal.” Ashlie told you, stirring a gloopy mixture of bland oats and a few days old goats milk in the cookpot. Gesturing to a steaming tin mug, she said, “I made you some morning tea.”

“But I usually have chicory coffee.” You replied, eying the tea warily since you never had tea in the house. In fact, the only one that drank tea was Ashlie, but it wasn't tea per say but a bunch of bitter dry herbs that she'd have the neighbor girl, Lucy Gray of the Covey, pick for her in the forest.

And, frankly, after what Coryo told you about Lucy Gray you doubt that he'd be pleased about you drinking anything that she picked. He doesn't want you around her, so…

“But with the shape your brother's in, and how he has a shift later tonight at the mines, he needs all the coffee he can get to sober up.” Ashlie said as a way to get you to accept that bitter herb tea she made for you. Oh and how she desperately wanted (no needed) you to drink that tea.

Turning your head, you saw your brother slouched in his sitting chair. He's still wearing his clothes from last night and he's got dried drool on one side of his face. His Seam grey eyes are glassy and bloodshot- a sure sign of a hangover. A tin mug full of chicory coffee is in one of his hands while his other is pressed against his temple in a vain attempt to alleviate his hangover headache.

Turning back to Ashlie, you say, “Yes, I suppose he does need the coffee.”, while reaching for your mug of tea.

Ashlie decides that now's the time to confront you about last night, while Coriolanus is still in your room. So, she grabs your wrist and pulls you close to her, all the while stirring the cookpot, and whispers into your ear, “You know what that peacekeeper did to you last night wasn't right.”

Before you could even bring the mug up to your lips, you go into shock at the brunette's words. Why would she say that to you? Oh my goodness, did she hear something last night?

Confirming your inner thoughts, Ashlie softly said, “The walls are thin; I heard everything he said and did to you, sweetheart.” Giving you a pitiful look, she added in, “You don't have to put up with that. You're a sweet girl and you deserve better than some peacekeeper that views you as an easy piece of ass he can do anything with.”

Her words hurt you, but they also made you mad. How dare she assume that Coryo was taking advantage of you last night. You agreed to fuck him. Yes, he pushed a bit hard towards the end, but you agreed to be with him.

Slamming down the tea mug, causing some of the hot liquid to slosh over the rim, you snapped, “What happened last night between me and Coryo is none of your business. I agreed to fuck him; he didn't make me do anything.” Snatching your wrist out of her grip, you turned on the kitchen sink and ran your hand under the tap, to cool the sting of the hot tea that split onto the hand holding the mug. “He pushed me a bit hard for my first time, but we talked about it, like a couple does, and everything's fine.”

“Y/N, he's not a good man. The things I heard him say last night…good men don't say those things to their girlfriends.” Ashlie told you, quiet enough so that your brother couldn't hear her, in a vain attempt to get you to see how much of a selfish lover Coryo was. Or at least that's how she viewed him.

You on the other hand viewed Coryo as a good boyfriend, as somebody that loved you a lot and quickly. To you he was very devoted.

You didn't know that his love and devotion was actually a sick obsession that was also possessive, but you don't need to worry about that small, minor detail.

To-may-to, to-mah-to, right?

“Why don't you worry about my drunk brother and keep your nose out of my relationship.” You harshly hissed at Ashlie, sounding so unlike yourself, right as Coryo entered the kitchen.

Looking between your hand under the running tap and Ashlie, who he didn't like solely because she was giving him a dirty look, he asked, “Is everything alright in here, babygirl?”

“I accidentally spilled some hot tea on my hand when I set my mug down.” You told Coryo while turning off the tap and patting your hand dry with a hand towel.

Coryo knew that wasn't the only thing that occured in the kitchen, but he needed to get you out of the house to ask what you and that ratty whore from the Hobb talked about while he was cleaning up your bed.

Walking up to you, he placed a gentle hand on your back and ordered in a suggestive tone, “Darling, let's go to the Mellark Bakery.”

“The bakery? But I'm making breakfast!” Ashlie exclaimed in an exasperated protest.

A cruel smirk appeared on the platinum peacekeeper’s angular face as he told her, “I promised my baby that I'd take her to the bakery today and I'm a man of my word.” Turning to you with a look of love and adoration, Coryo simply said, “Come along, Y/N.”, while leading you out of the kitchen.

Ashlie was appalled with the way Coryo was treating you. She was also appalled that you're just letting him do it too.

“Where ya goin’?” Rein asked, his voice scratchy and heavy with last night's booze, as you and Coryo walked by his sitting chair.

“Coryo's taking me to the Mellark Bakery for breakfast.” You answered your brother while Ashlie stared at the scene.

Oh how Ashlie was so pissed at Rein. If only your brother wasn't hungover right now. If he was sober he'd stop Private Snow from taking you out of the house.

“Just don't break any bread over the hearth; I ain't having that in my family.” Your brother seriously told you, pointing his coffee cup at your boyfriend. Truthfully, the thought of you marrying a peacekeeper terrified your brother whether he was sober, drunk, or hungover.

You're too much like your mother for your own good. Rein can't handle it. It's deja vu. Like history repeating itself all over again and he'll be damned if he sits back and watches you pick a peacekeeper over your own kind, the citizens of District 12.

“We won't.” You promised before walking out the door with Coryo.

As soon as you're on the front porch, Coryo asks, “What'd he mean by breaking bread over the hearth?”

“It's how people in 12 get married. It's called a toasting; you share a loaf of bread over a fire you stoke.”

“That's an odd way of getting married.” Coryo remarked as you walked down the porch steps.

Honestly, he viewed it to be a bit primal and uncivilized. In the Capitol couples have large ceremonies (modest if they're middle class or low class), exchange vows, and have a lovely reception only to follow it up with a honeymoon. The thought of being declared married due to breaking bread in front of a hearth was baffling. It proves to Coriolanus that the Districts are below the Capitol.

Well, thankfully he'll be dragging you back to the Capitol for a proper wedding ceremony. It'd be a cold day in hell before he had a toasting.

“Yea, but it's how things are done around here.” You tell him, linking arms with him and starting down the street.

Coryo just nods, accepting your remark. He has other matters to get to the bottom of this morning; debating the classless way 12 holds a marriage ceremony isn't that important. Not compared to what he needs to get aired out.

“What did I really walk into when I entered the kitchen? And don't tell me it was just you running tap water over your hand.”

Great, he would pick up that something was wrong. You didn't want to tell him, since you found it to be embarrassing, but you also had a feeling that he wouldn't like it very much if you lied to him.

So, despite being embarrassed, you told him the truth. “Ashlie overheard us last night; she decided to talk to me about it.”

“Jesus…” Coryo trails off in disbelief. You're 18, the time for that talk has come and gone in his opinion. Hell, he knows for a fact that girls in the districts are marrying and popping out babies pretty young in the Districts- like 15, 16 young. “She was giving you a sex talk? Damn, that's embarrassing.” Your boyfriend chuckles, hoping to lighten up the awkward subject.

“No,” You shook your head, “she was giving me a he’s not good enough for you and you shouldn't have fucked him talk.”

“Fucking ratty whore…” Coriolanus lowly muttered under his breath, jaw clenched tightly in anger.

How dare that dumb district whore say such things to you? Trying to turn you against him when he's the best goddamn thing to happen to you.

Coryo took his free hand and patted your arm the was linked with his, all the while assuring you, “Don't pay Ashlie any mind, she doesn't understand what we have and what we feel for each other.” Leaning his head down to press a comforting kiss to your temple, he told you, “I love you, baby, and I'm always going to love you. Don't let some bitter barmaid whose biological clock's ticking tell you otherwise.”

Before you could say anything to Coryo, you heard a commotion and turned your head in the direction the ruckus was coming from only to see a pair of on duty Peacekeepers dragging Arlo Chance out of the house he shared with Lil and Spruce. And talk about Lil, she was screaming hysterically while chasing after them, screaming and crying: “He didn't do nothing! Let him go, he didn't do nothing!”

Coryo looks between you and the scene unfolding at your neighbor's shack. “Do you know them?” He asks, hoping that you didn't. You knowing criminals is worse than you knowing the Covey in his books. Uh, maybe they're neck and neck. Who knows…

“The man being dragged away’s Arlo Chance, he works in the mines with my brother; he's around his age too, and the girl's Lil. She's Arlo's girlfriend; they live with her brother.”

“Are you friends with Lil?” Your platinum peacekeeper, casually dressed in an oversized white tee and his issued denim pants, asked. He put a light, curious tone in his question, even tho he was hoping that you're not friends with a girl who's man is a criminal.

And in Coriolanus' eyes Arlo Chance is a criminal because his fellow peacekeepers wouldn't just cart him away if he didn't do anything. He knew that the seasoned squads were on a manhunt for whoever blew up a mine earlier in the week. Now he has a hunch about who the culprit was in that.

“I'm friends with Lil, but she's a bit closer to Ashlie since their men are miners.” You admit to Coryo.

“Oh, I see.” Coryo nods studiously while dragging you swiftly down the street. “Well, I advise you not to be so friendly with her anymore since that man of hers is under arrest for the mine bombing that happened the other day.”

“What?! Arlo blew up the mine!?” You shrieked, eyes wide with shock.

Coriolanus internally groaned at your reaction. He wanted to tell you to shut up, but he didn't want to risk you getting upset. Not after last night. He needs to give you some time to get comfortable with him and his overbearing affections before he can scold you.

“Yes, darling, that's my understanding, so I advise you to stay away from Lil unless you want to be labeled a rebel.” Was the order, disguised as a suggestion, that your boyfriend gave you: his baritone curt and cold as ice.

“But Lil lives a few houses away; she comes over to visit often.”

“Then I suppose this is the reason you need to let me find us a place.” Coryo firmly said, a dead serious look shining in his crystal blue eyes.

Coriolanus kept a keen eye open for any for rent signs in apartment windows while walking to the Mellark Bakery with you. The sooner he got you out of that hellhole you called home the better. Honestly, he needed you alone in your own apartment so that he could condition you; turn you into the perfect Capitolite wife. Despite you being District, you're the kindest, warmest, purest soul he's ever met and he's sure that with the right etiquette training and rhetoric lessons that he'll be able to make you acceptable to proper society- because he can't have people turning their nose up at your District origins.

And if they do, well, he'd probably kill them for daring to speak a word against you.

Yea…

He's got it bad for you.

And of course, the townsfolk stared at you while you walked with your boyfriend. Tongues waggled too. All kinds of things were whispered about you and the platinum peacekeeper, but one thing kept coming up between a few folks of a certain age.

Your mother and your father; how the apple don't fall far from the tree.

“Here we are, darling.” Coryo announced with a smile, his pearly whites shining brighter than his T-shirt, as you approached the bakery. “Now, remember, you can order anything you want, baby.” Your boyfriend smiled while opening up the door to the shop and subtly pushing you inside of the brick building

You could see racks of bread cooling as soon as you entered the bakery. And when your eyes landed on the displays of various pastries, your mouth began to water. The delicious smell wafting throughout the bakery also had your senses on overdrive. You've never been in the Mellark Bakery before, never having enough money to do so, so you're in awe of all the baked goods in the store.

Coryo has his hand on the small of your back while guiding you over to the display case full of various baked goods. “Let's see what they got, shall we, baby?” He suggested with his large, Cheshire cat like grin.

“Okay.” You nod, smiling excitedly. You still can't believe that you're in the bakery; can order anything you want too.

The baker's wife is behind the counter, eying you and Coryo up uneasily. She's used to peacekeepers coming in, but she doesn't like those from the Seam. And, well, to have a handsome peacekeeper with a Seam girl- nothing but a poor wretch of a girl- eying up her display case and sweetly discussing the various pastires disgusted her.

Mrs. Mellark didn't want to service you, because of your Seam residency, but she has no choice but to smile and politely ask how she could help because you're with Coryo, an off duty peacekeeper. It killed the merchant deep inside her soul to do that too.

Coryo ordered you both a chocolate croissant and black coffee with sugar. Mrs. Mellark quickly made up your order and gave it to him. She gave Coryo a discount, like she did all peacekeepers (as a sort of bribe to keep them coming back for more baked goods on their days off) and thanked him with a big, but fake smile as he dismissively told her to keep the change (it was only a few measley pennies anyways).

Coryo and you ended up sitting on a bench in the town square, eating your pastries and drinking your coffee while talking about the tiniest things.

“Are you enjoying your pain au chocolat, baby?” Coryo asked with a genuine smile from ear to ear while watching you scarl down your pastry.

“Yes.” You reply before taking another bite. “Is that what chocolate filled croissants are called in the. Capitol? Pain au chocolate?” You ask, wondering about the term he used to inquire about your like of the sweet pastry.

“Yes.” Coryo nodded, sipping on his coffee. “And in the Capitol our coffee would be called sweetened black instead of black with sugar.”

“The Capitol has pleasant sounding names for things, doesn't it.” You stated although it sounds more like a question.

“It does.” Coryo agreed with manic smile. “Perhaps we'll be able to go back there on day.” He proposed before taking a precise and gentlemanly bite out of his croissant.

You knew his remark was just wishful thinking since Coryo was from the Capitol. You knew, as much as he did, that he'd never return to the Capitol; that he'll never take you there either. But it's nice to have hopes and dreams; you can't fault him for that.

So, being too kind for your own good, you give your boyfriend a smile and say, “Perhaps we will, Coryo.”

But only if you knew that Coriolanus Snow took your words very seriously and to heart. That by telling him that you just signed up for a one way ticket to the Capitol whether you liked it or not. Coryo’s taking you back with him when he's able to return; he's also making you Mrs. Snow and his First Lady. He's going to be making you the mother of his children (who, of course, will be heirs to one of the mightiest families in all of Capitol society) and he knows deep in his bones that you'll be a picture perfect mom- nurturing, gentle, soft. And since you'll be a picture perfect mom you'll also be a picture perfect wife.

If only you knew that Coriolanus Snow's a cunning, devious snake of a man that'll do anything to get what he wants. And what he wants is a life in the Capitol as filthy rich politician- no as President of Panem- with you by his side til you're old and grey; parted by nothing but death.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @tian-monique @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

[solarpunkani]

what are some things we can do to make the world better?

Gosh, this is a big question. It's also definitely something that's been on my mind for a long, long time. I mean, honestly, how could it not be?

I'm not gonna be able to provide any revolutionary, mind bending answers on this. I'm honestly something more akin to a coward, if anything--I'm not gonna be able to recommend going to protests or rebel action without being a huge hypocrite.

I guess what I did is pick a couple of topics to try my best to learn as much about as possible, so I can know what I can do to help, and then try to do as much of that stuff as possible. So in my case right now its gardening. I basically went 'oh? Butterflies and bees and pollinators are at risk due to habitat loss? Is there anything I can do about it?' Learned about what I could do about it (start a garden, grow certain plants, avoid certain practices like using pesticides and herbicides in said garden, etc.), and then did as much of that stuff as is reasonable for me. And then I also shared what I was doing with other people, and encouraged and helped them do it too if they're interested.

Is my rinky dink mismatched chaotic pollinator garden changing the world? Making the whole entire place better? Not necessarily. Maybe it's making the world a bit better for the pollinators that stop by though, and if I can convince more and more people to start pollinator gardens then it can help more pollinators. I bounced off from pollinator gardening to grow vegetables too, which I can then share with my community (donating to food banks/community fridges, or just offering some to the neighbors) which can definitely help as well.

You can use this process in other aspects too. Monarchs and milkweeds is what caught my eye and drew me to pollinator gardening, but maybe it just doesn't hit for you. Maybe you're more interested in fish, or ecosystems in rivers and streams. You can look into ways to help, and maybe then you'll get into cleaning riverbanks and such. Or maybe you're moreso interested in something like food scarcity and food deserts, and you can then launch into making community gardens or a system of community fridges and harrassing legislators calling your local representatives to back initiatives that will help. I think asking yourself 'what can I do about abcxyz', learning about it, and then doing what you can is definitely a good place to start. And maybe what you learn will lead you to going to things like protests and doing rebellious actions--in which case that's fantastic! The world needs a lot more people who are a lot braver than the woman behind this Tumblr curtain. Or maybe it won't--and that's okay too. We can do what we can together.

Will you change the entire world? Make the whole world better? Probably not, and I probably won't either. I don't think one person alone can change the world. But we can improve the worlds of a few creatures in a local area, or make the world better for people in our communities. And I think that's at least worth an effort.

If anyone else wants to chime in, by all means feel free! And if my advice sucks I'm sorry.

[t1oui]

thinking about how living w regulus would affect harry like

he's such a fucking snob about everything. food, decor, fashion, you name it, he's got opinions on it.

he does ballet despite being the least graceful person on the planet. he's somehow pretty good at it, likely out of spite

speaks french

very much a cat person, has a cat named leo who is his baby

like yk how james and sirius are extremely codependent? that's how harry is w leo. both of them can not handle being apart from each other too long

reads a lot of stories

thinks seeker is the best quidditch position

on that note, lots of slytherin house pride. james hates it. harry refuses to put any gryffindor decorations up in his room

harry loves taking pictures just like reg so the house is filled with photographs

and ofc harry is snobby about what types of cameras he uses thanks to reg. james now just lets them deal with the cameras & photography stuff bc he's scared to get the wrong thing lol

harry is taller than reg but bc dysphoria all of reg's old clothes (like quidditch jerseys + hoodies and stuff) are his size so half his wardrobe is from reg's hogwarts days

definitely the type of guy to change his bedding & curtains & everything in his room based on the season. will anybody actually be in there other than him and his parents? not really, but he MUST redecorate

idk what this even means but snobby about candles. this is another thing james is scared to buy him

harry and reg speak french w each other more than english

since james doesn't speak french w harry (i hc he's only comfortable speaking it w reg) harry is used to having a conversation in two different languages so sometimes he'll be speaking french w his friends without noticing

he'll be in the middle of a rant and realize they don't understand a thing he's saying lol

reg and harry control the decorating for every holiday, every birthday, etc.

the one thing harry knows how to do that reg doesn't/reg didn't teach him is cooking. reg never cooked for himself as a child so james was the one who taught him

doesn't look like it most of the time but all of harry's clothes are very expensive... did i mention he's a snob

harry is such a dry texter/writer... he's such a dick about grammar when it comes to writing even tho he can barely string a sentence together when speaking

deeply sarcastic (look! a canon detail! we never thought we'd see that on this account, did we?)

will take his partners on the most expensive dates & whatnot like it's nothing... cedric the farmboy™️ is not prepared

writes sad boy poetry when he gets annoyed w someone... like harry will storm off all pissed and then he comes back 20 mins later with a beautifully written, very angry poem for whoever made him mad

has so many clothes & different curtains and bedding sets for different seasons that he also uses the closet in the guest room (reg takes up 99% of his and james's closet for the same reason)

has an inherent hatred of fake plants

bedroom is simultaneously tidy and so messy a hurricane might as well have come through

leaves a book behind everywhere he goes

secretly the worst sense of humor lmao

he may not have gotten his love of drawing/painting from regulus, but you def see reg in the way he is, you guessed it, a massive snob about art supplies

soooo indecisive. redoes his room at least twice a year

an asshole when he gets less than 10 hours of sleep... he's mildly tolerable after 3 cups of coffee (black, of course) but you might as well just ignore him until he gets a nap in

on that note is very good at making coffee and is, drum roll please, a massive snob about it. who would've guessed (somebody count how many times i've said snob in this post and comment it please and thank you)

if he doesn't like a gift he's horrible at pretending he's happy w it so people usually go through reg whenever they buy him something... this goes both ways too, people go through harry when buying something for reg

is visually james and lily's but in personality is really just reg's (and also lily's... he definitely inherited his spite from her lol)

is a crazy cat lady by age 20

at least 10 pictures of leo in his room... he has whole photoshoots for her and she poses for them

might as well not hang out w harry at his house bc he'll make out with his cat the whole time

loves going to art museums w regulus

he's a, surprise surprise, snob about art. james just doesn't comment on art altogether atp

his vocabulary is a weird mashup of french, english, and hindi that makes it very hard for anybody who doesn't know him well to understand what he's saying lol

looks angry until he smiles (he got this from lily but a life with reg has perfected it)

needs a golden retriever to his black cat in any given relationship (enter cedric and cho) (yes i'm going to push my rarepair on everyone reading this)

tl;dr being raised by/living w regulus has turned harry into a massive snob about literally everything and regulus is proud of it (blink twice if you need help, james)

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Fire & Ice 🔥🧊 | MCU!Johnny Storm Imagine

Link to my Marvel masterlist

Characters & Pairings: JosephQuinn!JohnnyStorm x enhanced!reader (romantic), the Fantastic Four (platonic), The Avengers (platonic).

Content Warnings: fluff, profanity, mentions of canon violence and death, canon divergence, light angst | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 7K

Requested 📨 yes/no

Premise: Earth-616 is no stranger to the multiverse. Since the defeat of Thanos in 2023, the Avengers have had their fair share of visitors from other worlds and know what to expect when they do. But when a man wearing the same face of their late comrade arrives, the Avengers are in for the shock of their lives when a group of heroes tailing the individual fall through the portal behind him. And for the flying, fire-wielding, and sometimes charming Johnny Storm, he meets his match in the form of a woman whose power and reputation matches that of her cold, steel, heart.

Note: Happy 2025 everyone! To kick off the year I am gifting y'all this damn idea that's been stuck in my head the past two weeks. Now if you've been following my work since I started, then you know I was pumping out Marvel fics back in the day. Phase 1-4 of Marvel have my heart, and unfortunately the disappointment of Phase 5 (with few exceptions) had me lose interest. BUT if there was one thing I absolutely loved when I was a kid, it was the OG Fantastic Four movies with Chris Evans, Jessica Alba, etc. I watched those literally every day and before the Avengers/MCU I rolled hard with the FF, Blade, & X-Men (I've got another idea involving Deadpool & Wolverine cooking). So I have a lot of expectations for FF: First Steps especially because the MCU has had so many misses the last two years. I love Pedro Pascal, Vanessa Kirby, and Joseph Quinn, I haven't watched The Bear, but I've heard great things about Ebon Moss-Bachrach and I look forward to his and the rest of the cast's portrayal of the FF.

I've been a fan of JQ since 2022 because like majority of people I discovered him by his performance as Eddie in Stranger Things. I'll admit I haven't seen much of his filmography, but I did watch A Quiet Place: Day One and he was phenomenal. And don't get me started on Gladiator II. I was pleased to hear he'd be playing my first love Johnny Storm and I know he'll do amazing, not to mention he has said that he was a fan of the OG movies and Chris' version of the character. Whenever I hear an actor is a fan of the source material, I know they're going to deliver.

The movie hasn't come out, neither has the trailer, so I don't have much to work with. But we know that FF:FS is following the origin story of the FF and will feature the Silver Surfer. AND it's rumored to be where RDJ's Doctor Doom will debut, setting up Avengers: Doomsday and he will be the big villain of the MCU. This obviously is diverging from canon and pretty much an AU story, remember that please. SO here's my treat to my fellow Johnny Storm lovers to feed y'all since we still got months until FF:FS. Enjoy.

----------------------

The blinding light of the sun peaking through the curtains pulled Johnny from his sleep before the alarm was set to go off. Had it been any other day he’d be upset. Wishing nothing more than to curl into the comforter and get the extra minutes of sleep. But thankfully it was Sunday--the day reserved for rest. No agenda. No training. No missions. Completely free and dedicated to recoupling after a week filled with non-stop action. 

And if there was anyone who would be displeased at waking up earlier than needed, it was the woman lying beside him. Fast asleep on her back with one hand curled beneath the pillow and the other clasping his on her chest. Body cooler than the average person, which made the atmosphere of the room comfortable considering Johnny’s was hotter than the average citizen. Figuratively and literally. 

Johnny smiled, happily tucking himself further into her space, chin leaning on her shoulder as he snuggled against her side. Allowing his eyes to flutter close and accept the slumber his body itched to claim. The fresh scent of shea butter from her shampoo and body wash filled his nostrils, and he sighed in content. 

This was what life was worth living.

But just when Johnny welcomed the darkness, the annoying, blazing sound of their alarm clock echoed against the walls, disturbing the peaceful moment and making him flinch and groan. “Dammit,” he rolled onto his back, arm reaching to slap at the air until his fingers grasped the device. Snoozing it asleep with a press of a button. 

Now he was fully awake.

Flinging himself back onto the mattress, he felt her body shift before letting out a soft chuckle, “Had you turned it off when you first woke, you’d have spared yourself this torment.” Her voice was laced with tiredness, and Johnny turned his head to find her eyes still closed but clear amusement painting her visage by the smirk on her lips. 

Rolling his eyes, he moved to lay on his side and brought his arm around her waist, “Why didn’t you? Seeing as you were also awake.” 

“Too comfy.”

“Well, so was I,” he sassed, mouth hovering over her jaw before leaning down to kiss the skin, the coolness sending a chill along his spine. She hums, nuzzling into the touch, seeking it.

“The alarm is also on your side.”

Johnny smirks against her cheek, mischief coating his gaze, “you could’ve reached over me, you know. Saved us both the hassle.” His hand reached up to stoke her jaw, trailing to tangle his fingers in her hair. Soft and silky. He takes a moment to appreciate the beauty before him. From her thick eyelashes, to her lips. Her cheekbones and kissable lips. 

“Oh you would like that, wouldn’t you,” she challenged with no actual bite to her tone, one eye peeking open. “Me on top of you in the morning.” He didn’t even deny it, flashing a toothy smile

“Very much so.” 

Instead of replying, Y/n moved to push the man onto his back, throwing her leg over his waist to lay herself on top of him. Johnny’s hands immediately grabbed her, keeping her body pressed against his with one hand on her back and the other firmly on her hips. The heat radiating off his complexion clashed against the frostiness of hers. Two polar opposites coming together in an explosion of love and devotion. 

Johnny welcomed it with open arms, bringing her mouth to his in a tender kiss. Chuckling as she fought away while mumbling about morning breath to which he didn’t care. He kissed her like his life depended on it. Like they were the only two people in existence. For there was nothing sweeter on the planet than the taste of her lips on his. 

And thanks to the fire that consumed his veins, Johnny was spared from getting frostbite.

“Happy?” She asked while pulling away, but not getting far as Johnny cupped her jaw in his hand to keep her close. Kissing her once more after mumbling, “exceptionally.”

The tale of the Human Torch falling in love with the Ice Princess begins long ago, three years to be exact, when the Fantastic Four find themselves sitting across the table of Earth’s mightiest heroes, the Avengers. 

Everything leading up to the moment was still a blur to the young Johnny Storm. One moment he and his team, the Fantastic Four as they called themselves, were fighting the formidable Doctor Doom in their 60s-style futuristic Earth. And the next they are pulled into another universe while tailing the bastard to prevent him from bringing utter destruction to the world. It hadn’t even been five minutes and the Four were surrounded by armored trucks and individuals donning costumes similar to their own. 

“Hands where we can see them!”

“State your name and purpose!”

“Who are you and where did you come from!”

Johnny’s heart pounded against his chest. The anxiety piling up like a volcano ready to explode as he took in the scene before him. There were guns pointed at him and his friends. A man in a blue tunic and red cape with his hands raised in defense next to a young girl wearing a brown tunic. Another man in a red, white, and blue tactical suit with wings who landed in front of them. His shield reflecting off the light. Next to him was a man in a similar attire with wings but in grey. Then there was a woman in all purple, bow and arrow trained on the Four. A man with five golden rings on either wrist. A masked individual in a bright red and blue suit with spider webbing detail crouched on top of a car. And finally, a woman in a striking gray tactical ensemble stood closest to Johnny with a cold look in her eyes. 

Upon making a flame with his hands, ready to defend himself and his friends, Johnny watched her face shift to amusement. Raising her brow as though unimpressed by the trick, “Don’t even try, hotshot.” And without taking her eyes off his, her palm raised up to form an icicle in the shape of a dagger. Her other arm extended to show her skin turning completely into ice. 

Yeah, Johnny wasn’t sure if it was fear or arousal that consumed him. He often confused them at times. All he knows is there was a pretty woman before him with ice powers with cold eyes ready to strike him down with God knows what laid in store for him should he dare tempt her. 

But now wasn’t the time to flirt. There were more important matters at stake. Like the fact they were surrounded by highly advanced, highly enhanced, people with an army of soldiers at their command. In a place that looked like New York but lacked the 60s style he was accustomed to. 

“Cuff them and begin transport to HQ!”

“Find me Banner and clear this area at once!” 

The Four were at a loss. Outnumbered and confused, none able to process what the fuck was going on. They lost Doom. He was God knows where and they were not a match against these strangers. So they took their loss and compiled as they were restrained by agents.

“What the fuck is happening, Reed?” Johnny demanded, struggling against the cuffs on his arms and ankles. His power seemingly unable to melt the damn things which both intrigued and terrified him. 

“I don’t know?”

“Where are we?” said Sue from beside the genius, expression full of confusion and slight fear. The last thing she remembered was falling through a glowing yellow-orange light in the shape of a ring and the feeling of nausea hitting her full force. Giving her whiplash. 

But before anyone could answer, the blinding light of the sun hit them as the door whipped open and agents ushered them out of the vehicle. Clashes of voices, cameras flashing as news crews desperately tried to breach the barrier guards had formed and even a helicopter flying above. Johnny glanced up to take in the chaos, gaze falling onto the large building before him with a giant ‘A’ 

The Four are led to a large glass encased room, still cuffed, and ordered to sit and wait while armed guards post themselves outside. Expecting someone to come in and interrogate them, they take the moment to assess the area. Noting that the glass room sat perched above a large space, like a bullpen, where people were rushing to answer phones, type on computers, or stood watching the vast tv screens splayed on the wall. The news channels played footage of what transpired on the streets moments prior. The Four tense when they see an image of Doctor Doom, disappearing after falling from what appeared to be a portal in the sky. 

Just like they did. 

The sound of the glass door opening captured their attention, turning to find the man in the wingsuit and the woman in gray. Their body language showed they were on high alert, analyzing the Four for any potential threat, and they exchanged a look before the man set down his shield on a free chair while the woman placed a stack of files onto the table. 

“I’m Captain Sam Wilson, this is Agent Y/n L/n,” The man spoke first, cutting right to the chase, “You’re not from here, are you?”

“Here?” Reed repeated, perplexed.

“Earth-616,” Y/n answered, locking eyes with each of the Four, lingering on Johnny before falling onto Reed. “At first we suspected you’re with Hydra, or part of the team Fontaine has been cooking up. But ruled those possibilities out once we saw the footage of your friend who preceded you in the portal.”

The Four processed her words, unable to identify the names she spoke of. 

“Hydra?”

“We don’t know who this Fontaine person is, but we can assure you we’re not involved with them.”

“You saw Doom? We have to find him immediately!” 

“I’m sorry, did you say Earth-616?,’ Reed reeled back to her initial answer. Y/n crossed her arms over her chest with a nod.

“I did,” she then turned to Sam, lowering her voice but they were still able to hear everything, “This isn’t going to be easy, Cap. They obviously hadn’t discovered what we know and that makes them a liability.”

“We have no choice. Whoever traveled with them is still out there and they know what we’re up against. We need them.”

“And how exactly are we going to send them back to where they came from?”

“We’ll figure it out like we always do,” Sam’s tone grows stern, but Y/n holds her ground and doesn’t reveal any ounce of intimidation. “Strange and Banner can find something.”

Johnny, having had enough of them talking about them as though they weren’t right there, spoke up with annoyance, “Can you two please tell us what the fuck is going on? What do you mean “send us back where we came from,” and that we hadn’t discovered what you apparently know?”

Reed pitches in, “Sounds like you’re suggesting the theory of the multiverse is real and that we’ve somehow breached the gap between space, time, and reality and have fallen into a parallel universe,” the genius scoffs, gaze flicking between the two as though waiting for them to say, ‘Sike!’ only for his stomach to plummet in fear as he saw how serious they were. “Oh my God.”

Reed’s reaction to the implication was enough to cause the same in his friends. Sue’s face paled, Ben froze, and Johnny felt a sudden urge to throw up. They were in another universe.

 They watch as Y/n removes a device from her utility belt, stiffening as she points it at the man, a buzzing sound emitting from its speakers causing her brows to furrow and the man leaned over to read whatever it was on the screen. “You’re human, like us, and your DNA appears to be altered with enhanced biological traits.” Glancing up from the screen, her head tilts with suspicion, “but that’s not the interesting part…..your readings indicate you obtain multiversal particles.”

The revelation sent the Four into hysterics. All denying at first the inevitable truth, speaking over each other, struggling against their cuffs--which Sam removed once they calmed down. Reed was dealing with shock and excitement, for the scientific discovery was something he always theorized was true. Meanwhile the others were more fearful of what this meant for their world and the one they were in. 

For hours after the initial shock wore off, they stayed in that room until all information was exchanged between the groups. Sam infomed the Four they were at Avengers campus, headquarters for the Avengers. A team consisting of biologically or technologically enhanced individuals responsible for the safety and order of Earth-616 against domestic, international, and intergalactic threats.

“Well now we can add multiversal to the mix,” Y/n crossed her arms over her chest, seemingly annoyed with having to deal with another damn enemy after they’d finally defeated an adversary not long ago.

Part of Johnny wanted to laugh at her irritation, but that probably would’ve made things worse on his end. So he kept his mouth shut. 

Sam and Y/n were soon joined by the man in the tunic, who introduced himself as Doctor Stephen Strange. A Master of the Mystic Arts who had experience traveling the multiverse, and had even met a variant of Reed years prior. 

He didn’t go into detail obviously of how that ended.

Not long later he was followed by a large man who’s physique rivaled Ben’s and was green. “Dr. Reed Richards, meet Dr. Bruce Banner,” Y/n did not look up from her tablet, full focus on the screen. “You two will surely get on well with figuring out what the fuck it is this Doctor Doom wants with our world.”

While they didn’t join the group, Sam explained who the other team members were that helped attain the Fantastic Four. Stephen’s protegee, America Chavez, who had the power to travel the multiverse--which had Reed’s eyes bulging from his head. He definitely wanted to have a conversation with her. There was Kate Bishop, the purple archer who trained under former Avenger, Clint Barton. Sam’s wingman, Joaquin Torres, and Shang-Chi, who possessed the Ten Rings. Lastly there was Peter Parker, the boy donning the red and blue webbed suit. 

They mentioned the Thunderbolts, another team of enhanced individuals who were more anti-heroes and had once been adversaries of the Avengers but are now allies. Then there was the Guardians of the Galaxy. A team of intergalactic heroes traveling space and protecting the galaxy from threats not on Earth. The Norse Gods of Asgard, now living on Earth. Shuri, Scott Lang, Hope Van Dyne, and the Marvels. Lastly, they touched on former Avengers. Ones who retired, like Barton, and the ones who perished. 

Finally, when things seemed to settle, Johnny decided to lift the mood by saying, “So do you guys have nicknames? Or like code for when you’re on missions?” Sue shot him a look that read, “For the love of God, Johnny.”

Y/n lifted her eyes from the tablet, giving him a once over, “Are you serious right now?”

“What?”

“Aye, take it easy, L/N,” Sam pitched in, waving a hand for emphasis. “Can’t blame the kid for being curious.” All he receives is a mock scoff. 

“Okay, Captain America.”

Johnny’s ears perked up as he looked at Sam with interest. Boyish grin plastered on his face, “You’re called Captain America? That’s really cool.” He motions toward the suit and shield, “Should’ve guessed as much though with the colors of your suit and stars.”  

“I used to be the Falcon, but Torres has taken on that mantle. Strange is just strange,” Y/n snickered under her breath, causing Johnny to bite back a smile. “We call America, Miss America.”

Ben nods his head in approval, “fitting.”

Sam continued listing off the aliases of the team, finally coming to Y/n who narrowed her eyes with a frown as he said, “And she’s the Ice Princess.” 

Honestly she should be grateful for the nickname and that it sounded quite regal in comparison to other ice related names. Hell, they could’ve dubbed her Frost. Or Snowflake. Or God forbid Icicle. At least with the Ice Princess it made her sound both menacing and dauntless. Still, it was too on the nose. And it didn’t help that before the accident that granted her the powers and the Avengers, she was a socialite in America. Before they died, her parents were wealthy investors and friends with the late Tony Stark.

Johnny didn’t try to hide his grin, “The Ice Princess,” earning a glare from the woman, obviously not amused by the nickname nor his delight from it. 

“And what do they call you, hotshot? Firestarter? Flame-man?” 

He shrugs sheepishly, cheeks a tint red, “Human Torch.” Now that has Y/n’s lips curl, fighting back the smile as she hums.

Setting the Four up at campus, they were given rooms and full access to the labs and training facilities. Reed and Ben immediately joined Banner, while Johnny and Sue decided to observe the Avengers and learn from them. Their dynamics. Their history. The way they train and how they come together to develop strategy. How they are able to make a team consisting of individuals with different levels of abilities, experience, and ethics work. 

Johnny would be lying if he said he wasn’t the most curious about Y/n. Not only was she the most beautiful, and quite terrifying, woman he’d ever met, but he was drawn to her aura. The power she held, both physically and on the team. She was extremely intelligent, a mentor to the young members, witty. Unafraid to go toe-to-toe with Sam or Strange. 

And her powers….they were exact opposites. Fire and ice. Hot and cold. Where he controlled flames, she manipulated glaciers. He turned himself into a human torch, she transformed to a human icicle. 

Talk about opposites attract. 

Days passed, and the two teams merged together with the goal of locating their common enemy. By keeping up with the news and reports of suspicious activity, they were able to narrow down the search for Doom. Suspecting him to be hiding somewhere in the New England area. 

The day before planning to scour the location, the teams trained with each other, none holding back. Showing off what they were made of. An enthralling experience considering the Fantastic Four had only been a team for a couple years in comparison to the fifteen plus of the Avengers. Banner being the only founding member there, Sam and Y/n not far behind. 

“I like her,” Sue whispered to her brother when Y/n sideswiped Joaquin and put him on his ass. The group made a circle around the matts in the gym and were taking turns going against each other. Sue caught the way the man’s gaze followed the Avenger. Mesmerized by her skill and ability. And Sue always knew when her brother had a crush. “You should go next when it’s her turn again.” 

Johnny didn’t respond, but the look on his sister's face, a cheeky smirk told him he wasn’t being conspicuous as he thought he was with his feelings. “Shut up.” 

The most tense, and nearly destructible moment, came when the Four discovered a photograph of Tony Stark on the wall of a different debrief room alongside the founding Avengers. Who bore a striking resemblance, well actually he was identical, to Dr. Victor von Doom. The man they were after. 

There was screaming. Accusations thrown at each other. Of course suspicion and confusion from the Four. Up until that point the Avengers only saw Doom with his cloak and mask from the footage, and the Four hadn’t described his appearance. And while the Avengers mentioned Tony Stark, they didn’t show any pictures. 

It calmed when Strange had to remind them about the existence of variants. He met Reed’s when traveling to Earth-838. Peter Parker met two of his. It was completely possible that their Victor von Doom was a variant of their Tony Stark. Were they the same man? Not really when one thinks about it. But they shared a face. The Reed Richards Strange met looked nothing like the one standing in front of him. While in Earth-838, Strange met a young lady who worked with Christine, that world’s version of the Ice Princess, who was not Y/n. Peggy Carter was their Captain America!

Oh, and there was the big detail in the fact that Tony Stark was dead. 

When the commotion settled and the two groups lost their steam, Johnny noted the deflated appearance of the Avengers. All falling quiet with unreadable expressions. Peter excused himself, “I-I don’t feel good. I’m gonna go lay down,” but the blonde saw the way his lip trembled and eyes watered. Rushing out of the debriefing room on a mission to get away from everyone before he burst into tears. A feeling of guilt suddenly consumed Johnny, glancing at his friends who shared the same concern. 

Banner was quiet, as was Strange. The others, who didn’t know Tony personally, shuffled on their feet and quietly excused themselves as well. Sam had his back to everyone, a distant look in his eyes as he gazed down at the bullpen below. 

And then there was Y/n. Sitting in silence with her hands clenching the arms of her chair, white knuckled and jaw so tight he swore he saw a vein protruding. Her breathing was shallow, eyes staring blankly at the wall. 

Johnny felt unease, unsure of what to do. Should he say something? Should they leave the room? Nothing felt right at that moment. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that this new revelation changed everything. This was no longer just containing a multiversal threat, this was personal so to say. 

He was spared the ordeal when Sam finally spoke, only to be interrupted by Y/n, “You know you don’t have to--.”

“Do not finish that sentence, Sam.”

He turned away from the window to look at her, tone serious, “I’m trying to look out for you, Kid.”

“What’d I tell you about calling me that?” 

“And Peter,” Sam continues, not letting up, “No one will fault you two for wanting to pull out of this.” 

She scoffs, offended by the insinuation as she stands from her chair. The atmosphere in the room heated up again, and Johnny tensed, watching the woman step forward so she was nearly chest to chest with Sam. “There is a multiversal madman out there and you’re suggesting I stay grounded?” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, “What the fuck, Sam?”

“This is different, Y/n,” his voice was steady, willing her to understand. He wanted the best for his team. And their situation was unlike anything they’d ever dealt with. “You have to realize that. This Doom is--.”

“Not him, Sam! Y/n threw her hands up, yelling as the anger she had tried to contain began to unleash, “I’m not fucking stupid! For Christ’s sake, I know that’s not Tony and I’m not going to compromise this team because the man we’re up against has the same face as him!” 

“Y/n--,” Strange attempted to intervene but she shot him a look and he immediately backed down. 

“If you think Peter and I should back out, then so should Banner,” she pointed to the man who had yet to say something since the news of Tony’s variant was revealed. “Him and Tony founded this team. And let’s not forget your history with the damn Accords. Should I go call Rhodey and see what he thinks?” 

‘Accords? Rhodey?’ Johnny thought to himself, not familiar with the term as he thought back to the lessons on the Avengers. They must’ve omitted that detail, assuming it was a rather dark part of their history. A confirmation he got from the reactions of Banner and Strange, who’s expressions were complete shock and appalled. 

Sam’s demeanor shifted to that of hurt and exasperation, her words hitting him like a bullet from a gun. “That was low, even for you.” Yeah, whatever it was they were references, the Four gathered it wasn’t good. 

Y/n stepped back as though he struck her, a flash of regret in her eyes but she kept her head up, willing herself not to break. “I’m an Avenger. I took an oath, the same as you, and made a promise to Tony that I’ll do whatever it takes to protect this planet against any and all danger. I will not break that promise, and nothing you say or do will stop me.” Y/n backs away, moving toward the door, “I’ll see you on the quinjet tomorrow, Cap.”

An eerie silence remained as the door slammed shut behind Y/n. Nobody moved. Nobody made a sound. The air was thick, and full of tension. The Four glancing at each other with uncertainty. 

“Wings up at eight,” Sam announced, voice strong with authority as though the last five minutes never occurred. Or didn’t bother him, though Johnny noted the pinched look of his brows.

The Captain then departed the room, Strange and Banner following out with a nod to the Four. Left to their own devices, the Four spent the next hour in the debrief room watching footage of the Avengers. Particularly ones with Tony Stark, the Iron Man, and the several catastrophic missions he dealt with alongside the Avengers. Provided with the mountain of videos from news channels and social media of people who experienced it first hand. 

New York 2012. Ultron 2015. The Superhero Civil War of 2016. That’s where they learned of the Accords Y/n referenced and how she and Sam were involved. The two on opposite sides of the scale as Y/n pledged allegiance to Tony while Sam supported former Captain America, Steve Rogers. Witnesses flying a private plane around the airport captured the fight between the two teams. 

Johnny watched with a frown as Y/n battled against her colleagues and friends. He could tell she was holding back on using her power to the highest degree, not really wanting to hurt them, but enough to send a message. For example, when Steve and Bucky attempted to flee to the hangar, Y/n created a layer of ice on the pavement, causing them to tumble and fall. Then she made a wall of ice to contain Scott Lang in his giant form. But that was a failure, as the wall wasn’t thick enough allowing Scott to break free, sending chunks of ice toward the ground, knocking the hero unconscious when one collided with her head, blood spilling from her temple. To prevent her from being crushed, Tony flew in a record speed to gather in his arms and rush her to safety. 

Later that night when Johnny was wandering the building, he found Y/n on the balcony overlooking the main grounds. A hue of orange and pink painting the sky as the sun set on the horizon. The dark blue of nightfall taking over lurking in the background. She was out of her suit, dressed in casual clothes consisting of a hoodie and sweats. A faint expression on her visage as she stared out in the distance. 

Gathering courage, Johnny took a deep breath before gently sliding back the door, the cool breeze hitting him in the face as he closed it behind him and approached the woman. Her head tilted slightly, acknowledging that she heard him, but made no move to address. 

They stayed like that for a minute. In silence, basking in the peace they were afforded before the impending danger they were to face. 

“I’m sorry you all had to witness that,” Y/n eventually spoke, tone neutral as her expression. “That was unprofessional of me.”

Johnny shook his head with a shrug, “You don’t have to apologize. I can’t imagine what you and your friends are feeling. And I’m sorry we jumped to conclusions--accusing you guys of--.”

“Considering what you told us of Victor von Doom,” She sent a pointed look, her voice one of understanding, “you had every right to be cautious. Plus,” she sighs, gaze flickered down to the railing, “you four are still new to the Multiverse. We’ve known about it for five years, and I remember that feeling of confusion and uncertainty. America told us all about her experiences traveling through various realities.” Y/n’s frown deepened, shuffling on her feet with unease. “In one world, she met a version of me that hated the Avengers--and tried to destroy them.” Her body shudders, and not from the wind, “That stuck me for a while. I couldn’t imagine a world where I was the enemy. Whose goal was to hurt the people I cared about. Steve, Nat, Tony.” 

Johnny nodded, leaning his elbows on the railing as he pictured it. Surely there were versions of himself out there in the multiverse. He wondered what they were like. Did they have the same power? Did they get to live a normal life like he once thought he would? Was he a hero? Or was there a version of Johnny who went against all he stood for? 

He too, refused to imagine a scenario where he’d want to harm his sister and friends. It saddened him to even think about such a thing. And the way Y/n said Tony’s name, showed him she felt the same.

“Was he your father?” the question left his lips before he could stop it. Immediately regretting upon the distant look that encompassed her visage along with the glossiness of her eyes.

“He was the closest thing I had to one after my own died,” Y/n bit her lip, scoffing lightly, “actually even when mine was alive. Met the man when I was five--my father invested in Stark Industries and the two were good friends. I have fond memories of going to Stark Tower and watching Tony’s expos.” A small smile appeared, but it soon turned to a frown. “My parents profited off the sciences and technology, but didn’t really care to understand it.” There was a bitter taste in her mouth as she spoke, and Y/n was a bit surprised she was being so open with Johnny. A rare feeling, for she was hardly this vulnerable about her past with her teammates. And she’d known them for decades almost.

“I was always smart growing up but they never acknowledged or praised me for it. Told me college wasn’t necessary since we were wealthy and what good would higher education be when we were well set. Mind you,” she shoots a glance at Johnny, who was watching her intently. “My father went to business school in Chicago and my mother was a journalist before they got married.”

“The pot calling the kettle black,” he muses, tone laced with disappointment on her behalf.

“Exactly,” she sighed, shaking her head as she looked back toward the city. “My father laughed when I told them I wanted to pursue physics at MIT. Told me if I was going to go to college then I should do business where the money was at--as if I needed more fucking money,” Johnny heard the frustration and sadness in her voice, picturing a young Y/n with dreams who just wanted the support of her parents and was denied. Thinking about it made his heart strain.

“Anyways, Tony was the one who helped me get to MIT. It was my freshman year he got kidnapped and became Iron Man. Barely saw him after that because his partnership with my dad ended.” Fiddling with her rings, Y/n closes her eyes briefly while taking a breath, then shrugs nonchalantly, “My folks were among the casualties in New York, my accident happened not long after….” she straightens up with a sniff, “Tony Stark helped me find purpose. Told me there were greater things for me--and my powers could be a tool to help people. He took me under his wing when the government advised him not to. I owe everything to him.” Turning to lock their eyes, Y/n’s gaze is filled with determination. 

“As he died I promised him to continue his legacy. I intend to keep it, until my last breath.”

Defeating Doom proved itself to be the most defining moment for the Avengers and Fantastic Four. Lasting months on end, for each time Doom was in their grasps he managed to get two steps ahead of them. Thankfully the integrity of space, time, and reality didn’t seem to disintegrate with the Four in Earth-616. Something the geniuses of the team were concerned about. 

When it was finally over, Doom neutralized and the multiverse saved, the Avengers and the Four--bloodied, bruised, and covered in grime, dragged themselves to a nearby shawarma joint to pig out. Beer flowed, music sounded from the jukebox beside the round table they took claim to. 

And after months of tip-toeing around feelings, Johnny and Y/n finally said ‘fuck it,’ falling into step together as a unit they both craved. The Ice Princess seated firmly in his lap with her head tucked under his chin, eyes fluttering closed as the exhaustion kicked in. 

For Johnny, he’d been crushing on the woman since he first laid eyes on her. Keeping his affections hidden as he knew deep down it would be unwise to pursue anything with someone who 1) was from another world; and 2) he needed to focus on the task at hand. 

The same went for Y/n, who realized her fondness for the blonde about a month after he arrived. She’d be lying if she didn’t find him attractive during that first meeting. Anyone with eyes would agree. But she knew better than to be involved with him given their predicament. 

Yet, by a power greater than universe, the man of fire melted her frozen heart. He wasn’t put off by her cool attitude, unlike most people when they first meet Y/n. Yeah he got under her skin with his boyish charm and flirtations, but he never crossed any lines. Always respectful. Always mindful. 

Neither were sure when things changed between them. Maybe it was when Y/n pushed him out of the way of a line of fire from a Doombot causing her to take three bullets to her back and nearly bleed out right there in the middle of the street. Or when Johnny spent a week in a coma for exposing himself to a deadly dose of radiation to prevent Y/n from doing so. Whatever it was, the two could no longer beat around the bush. And the night before the final battle against Doom, they confessed their feelings on the balcony overlooking Avengers campus. Sealing their promise to stay alive with a kiss.

“You sleepy, darling?” Johnny murmured against her hair after finishing a conversation with Shang-Chi. Tightening his arms around the woman when she nuzzled his chest before laying a sweet kiss to her forehead. 

“Just resting my eyes.” His finger brushed her cheekbone, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, making Y/n sigh in content. 

“Rest,” he told her, not buying it at all, and by the tone of his voice she knew he was smiling. “I’ll wake you when we’re ready to leave.” All he received was a hum, the man beaming as he carded his fingers through her hair. And when Johnny lifted his gaze he met his sister’s, who’s expression was full of fondness, shooting him a wink as she gestured toward the sleeping Avenger in his lap. 

‘Told you so,’ Sue mouthed, grinning at his pink tinted cheeks. 

‘Shut up,’ he mouthed back, though he returned the smile. 

In the days following their victory, one question remained: Will the Fantastic Four return home? America was their ticket out. All she had to do was open a portal. It may take time, but eventually she’d shuffle through enough realities until she found theirs. Luckily in the months they’d been away, the fabric of reality remained intact. 

In all honesty, that fact alone is what made them contemplate leaving. 

The Fantastic Four didn’t belong in Earth-616 having landed there by mistake, but it had been almost a year. Integrating themselves into the Avengers and developing bonds. Besides the romantic feelings between Johnny and Y/n, the remaining Fantastic Four were not sure if they wanted to leave. Reed and Ben enjoyed working with Banner and Strange. Sue longed for female companionship, and found that with Y/n and the other women of the Avengers. And Johnny connected with the guys. They all became friends.

They became a team.

And since they weren’t leaving anyone behind in their world, what harm was there by staying? The Avengers could use more allies. And who knows another high level threat would appear. Threatening the existence of the universe. They needed a strong team, and defeating Doom proved they were one. 

Yeah, it was a no brainer. 

Now here they were two years later. The Ice Princess and Human Torch cuddled in their bed, in their apartment in Avengers campus, on their day off where they could enjoy the peace as no new threats had emerged in the last two months. 

Johnny groaned when Y/n pulled away from the kiss, moving to sit up so she was straddling his hips. The comforter falling behind her as she fought against his firm grip when he attempted to pull her back down. 

“Sorry, hotshot, no sleeping in for me today. I have to get ready.”

He tilted his head, partly confused, partly offended, “For what?”

“I promised your sister I’d have breakfast with her.”

“But it’s Sunday,” He sat up, hands gripping her waist as he moved to press kisses on her neck. “We don’t do anything on Sundays. Except sleep….” he trailed off, pulling away to give her a cheeky smile, “and give each other some lovin’.”

Y/n chuckled, tilting her head back as his plush lips captured her chin, trailing down her jaw until he found the place behind her ear. “Baby, I’ll give you all the loving this afternoon until the sun sets and the moon rises,” she feels him shudder against her, smirking in satisfaction. “But I’m a woman of my word.” 

Lifting herself off him, she leaned over to her side of the bed to grab her rings off the nightstand. Returning to his lap as she placed them on her fingers. Her college ring on her right hand, and the beautiful Cartier stack consisting of her engagement and wedding rings. Once all were placed on her finger, Johnny lifted her hand to press a kiss to her knuckles just below. His own wedding band shining against the sunlight peeking through the curtains. 

“Don’t keep me waiting too long now,” Johnny flirted, chocolate eyes sparkling while pressing her hand to his chest where his heart laid. Heat radiated off his body. “I might come looking for ya.” The words earned him a playful glare.

“Behave,” she scolded without any bite. “Or I’ll punish you.”

“I want you too,” Johnny challenged, winding his arm around her waist to hold her closer. 

All she did was shake her head, laughing at his behavior while he continued his assault on her neck, allowing him a few extra kisses before she really had to get up. “You are something else, Johnny Storm.” 

“And you love meeeee.”

“I do,” she breathed out, tilting her head down to meet his lips halfway, hand cupping his jaw. He sighed in victory, chasing her mouth each time she pulled away, causing her to giggle. “Johnny! The sooner you let me leave, the sooner you get to have me all to yourself.” 

He groaned again, loosening his hold but not completely letting Y/n go. “Fine,” he mumbled, pouting, but smiled when she kissed his cheek. “Bring me back a coffee, please?”

“Of course, my love.” 

With that he reluctantly let go of her waist, allowing his wife to get up from the bed. But before she could make her way to the bathroom, Johnny caught her hand, making her turn back to him with a raised brow.

“Some say the world will end in fire.” He begins to recite the famous poem by Robert Frost. What started as a joke between the two because of their abilities, transformed into something far more intimate. The poem itself was about human emotions, and their power to lead to self-destruction. Fire was fast, Ice was slow. Together they were each other's strength and weakness. And despite being complete opposites, they both played a role in dismantling humanity. 

But for Johnny and Y/n, they managed to do the impossible. They bridged the gap between fire and ice.  

Y/n smiles affectionately, lifting her free hand to the back of his neck to scratch at the nape of his hairline. “Some say in ice.”

“From what I’ve tasted of desire, I hold with those who favor fire.”

“But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate, to say that for destruction ice.”

“Is also great,” They both recite, leaning in to capture each other's lips as they whisper the final line of the poem. 

“And would suffice.”