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teeramoonlover · 1 year ago

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Knock, Knock

Billy Loomis x Fem!Reader x Stu Macher

(NSFW)

This is my first time writing oneshot, let alone smut. English is not my first language so bear with me.

Warning: Reader is a Virgin, Cussing, alot of cursing, knife play, mask kink, bondage, fingering, cunnilingus, deep throat, anal, threesome, and double penetration.

*Bold - Voice modulator, Italic - inner voice

“Hello?”

“Hello.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. You didn't recognize this deep voice talking to you.

“Who’s this?” Instead of hanging up, your gut feeling tells you to continue the conversation with this stranger. Maybe you’ll get something out of it.

“You don’t need to know about me. I just want to talk to you.”

“Now why should I do that? Stranger danger. Didn’t your parents teach you that?” You saunter around the kitchen counter and stare at the sets of kitchen knives. You pull out a cleaver and wait for them to reply.

The stranger chuckled, amused with your response.

“Just want to call you so I get to know you better.”

You poked your tongue inside your cheek. You put the knife back in its place, humming to yourself.

“Alright, Mr Stranger. You got my attention and I'm bored as hell. Shoot your million dollar question.” You leaned your back on the counter, hand in pocket while another's still holding the phone.

“Tell me, do you like scary movies?”

“Uhh, yeah.”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

“Does The Addams Family count? 1991 is the best.” You shrugged, checking your nails. The voice grumbled, annoyed with your movie choice.

“That’s not even a scary movie. And it’s a kid show.”

“Excuse me, that movie is my fave and you don’t get to judge my beloved Morticia Addams just because I watch a ‘kid show’. Besides, that movie is still considered horror okay. Take examples like Tim Burton’s production. Even though most of his movies are suitable for children, he still wants to insert horror elements so they could find comfort and won’t make them feel scared anymore. You should try Nightmare before Christmas or maybe Edward Scissorhand for starters.” you jested.

“Not my kind of style. Edward is weird as fuck.”

“Oh now you’re crossing the line Mr. Nobody. Fun fact for you, Johnny Deep with or without heavy makeup is hot as fuck. Hell, if there’s any Johnny copycat out there, I’ll ride his dick straight away.” you mused. The audacity of this guy.

The stranger hummed.

Is it creepy that I can see him smiling through the phone?

“You should be careful what you wish for. It might come true.”

“Then, Amen for that. I ain’t regret what I said so if you have a problem with it, you jerked your tiny dick somewhere else.”

He chuckled darkly.

“So, do you have a boyfriend?”

"What if I have one? Or maybe a girlfriend? What ya gonna do about it?” You rolled your eyes.

The phone went dead silent until a deep growl came out on the line. His voice changed to menacing.

“You don’t have a boyfriend. You’re not even lesbian.”

“Slow down tiger. I can change my preference wherever I want. Anyway, congratulations! You’re successful become from a total stranger to a fucking creep. Now no more games with me. What do you want?” You huffed, getting annoyed and a little creep out with his manic voice.

“Oh baby, you think this is a game? I’ll play a real game for ya. Knock, Knock.”

You yelped when you heard someone banging on your front door.

Shit. Wrong move.

You pull out a metal bat under the counter like you knew this would gonna happen and check around, especially every closed door inside the house. You already watched too many horror movies with Randy that you even know where the killer always comes out from.

“I ask you want more time. What the hell do you want from me?”

“You wanna know, you have to play the game with me.”

You jumped when you heard another banging. And this time, at your backyard.

“Knock. Knock.”

You gulped and took a glimpse at your back. As you saw nobody's there, you pressed your back on the wall and focused on the front door.

“Who’s there?”

You make sure all the doors and windows are already locked as your father went out training with his buddies. He says he will be coming home late.

Double. Shit.

“Johnny.”

You innerly scoffed. Oh he likes this game too much.

“Johnny where?”

“Clever girl. Guess.”

You rushed to the front door and took a look outside from the window. No one was there. You blurted out the answer.

“The backyard.”

“Wrong.”

You shrieked as the sound of a crash came out from the living room. You ran there to see a big gape hole at your now shattered window. You scanned the whole room. Only one wooden chair and shattered glass all over the floor.

He couldn’t make it inside that fast. You raised the phone as you heard his voice.

“I give you a second chance. Knock, knock.”

“Oh fuck you with your knock knock shit game! What do you want from me?!”

“I want you…to ride me.”

You inhaled sharply at his answer as you turned around with a bat raised in front of you.

“You’re messing with the wrong person here.” You spitted. He chuckled mockingly, amazed that you still have a bit of spite even though you know you're about to lose the game.

“You should be asking where I am, (Y/N).” He enunciated your name deeply.

Sweat trickle down your temple as you took a step back one at the time. This stranger knowing your name just shot up your nerve haywire.

“Where the fuck are you shithead.”

“Behind you.”

You turned around and hit the phone right to the side of his face.

His Ghostface leather mask to be exact.

He covered his head from the hit with his gloved hand and you took that opportunity to bash his head with your metal bat. He doubles in pain as you hit his back with more force and knocks his feet to the floor. He lay on his back, gripping his back painfully as you stepped on his body.

“Now let’s see who's behind the mask.”

Before you could bend down to grab his mask, the air got knocked out from you as someone rammed from your side. Your head got slam on the floor hard followed by a body that stumbled right above you.

There’s two of them?!

You tried to pry him off from you but it was no use. You could see from your blurred vision that two masked men were now crowded right in front of you.

The first guy above your head took both of your hands and held them tight, giving out a painful moan from you, while the other one sat on top of your low waist between his thighs, securing your legs from moving.

You tried to trash your body only to feel a sharp knife under your throat. You looked up to see the second guy shaking his head.

A warning.

“Looks like you lost the game.” Second ghostface seems satisfied seeing you beneath him. The knife in his hand trailed lower and lower to your neck. You could feel a prick of pain as the knife cut deep at your collarbone.

“Losers need to pay the price.” The first ghostface giggled, bringing out a rope from his black robe and tied your hand above your head.

“Two against one? Really fair, does it?” You gritted your teeth. Even though you’re already at their mercy, your mouth still runs like a goddamn sailor.

“Didn’t know this should be a fair game.” Second ghostface shrugged, still lingering his knife around your neck area.

“So what? You gonna kill me?”

“Careful, you shouldn’t challenge a killer with a knife. Now you said it, that does sound tempting.” The killer dragged down his knife to your waist. The cold of his blade sent chills down your spine as it put pressure on your stomach, emphasizing his words.

You gulped as you eyed the two ghostface. The one that sat on top of you seems like a person you don’t want to mess with. The way his voice held authority, meaning if he wants to kill you, he’ll make sure you’re good as dead. Even though he’s wearing a mask, you could feel his hot gaze on your throat to your collarbone that already bleed out from the small cut. His gloved hand reached out, smearing your oozing blood with his thumb. He loves it, you can tell.

Another one above your head, however he's a different kind of persona. He seems to like goofing around and having fun stabbing his victim. More sadistic, more of an unhinged bastard. If he takes his mask off, you bet he'll be that funny, easy going guy. His head tilted to the side, staring at your body in awe. Like you'll become his biggest meal tonight.

"But since you beat my friend here, I'll give you a chance. If you want to live, you need to do something for me." He hinted at the end of his sentence. The first Ghostface started to laugh hysterically.

Somehow you know what he meant, knowing what they're gonna do to you.

"What do you mean?" You shuddered.

In a split second, he pulled your body and switched position, making you on top of him. You could feel the bulge between your legs as his hands gripped your waist.

"You know what I meant."

Your whole body shivered in fear and excitement. You don’t know why your body react that way. Fear, yes but also excites you?

You already soaked in your panties, though it was the adrenaline of the chase.

You subtly rubbed yourself on his groin. He sighed in content as you kept rubbing his hard on.

“That’s it, babe.” His breath ragged as both his hands moved your hips and pressed deeper to his crotch. His hips thrust to your core, making you let out a soft moan.

You feel someone's hand held the back of your head, turning you to meet the first Ghostface. His gloves were already gone from both hands, as he’s working on to half-done his zipper jeans.

“Open your mouth, kitten." He slipped his thumb, pressing your lips to open. He inserted two fingers in and out as you swirl your tongue around his fingers. They were so long that you gagged as it reached at the back of your throat. When he pulled out his fingers, a string of saliva coated them.

“I’ve never done this before.” Your face was red, embarrassing to admit that you never had sex before.

“We know you’re a virgin.” He whispered. His thumb stroking your lower lip, his mask titled to the side.

“Don't worry about that. We promise to make you feel good, m'okay?" The Ghostface under you sat up, his hand tugged teasingly at your waistband while the other one caressed your cheek. His deep voice is surprisingly tender, luring you in like a moth to his flame.

Without thinking, you nodded at his words.

Beneath those masks, their smirk grew wider, finally getting you hooked with them.

"Lift your hips for me, baby."

He tore his gloves from his hands and guided your hips upward. As you stand on your knees, he tugged down your shorts and panties in one go. You gasped at how rough, desperate he wanted to strip you naked.

He took out his knife and started to rip them in half. You shiver from the cold as your clothes discard aside.

A pair of hands from behind reach out to your breast and fondle them. You whimpered as he pulled and squeezed your nipples. Another hand slipped to your wet cunt, thumb circling your clit.

"Gosh, your pussy is so wet for us. We're just getting started." He mused. Slowly, he inserted two fingers inside you, thumb still rubbing your clit. You shuddered, your back laid on someone's chest, who still continued grasping your breast.

"Look at you, seeking pleasure from two psychotic serial killers. Ain't ya a dirty little slut." The one from behind cackled in manic, enjoying seeing you completely vulnerable for him.

You subconsciously ride your hips with his fingers inside you, reaching your high. Your tied arms pressed in front of his chest as his friend from behind starts to dry hump your ass. You could imagine how big their dicks are, one pressing from the back while the other one underneath your pussy, still finger fuck you.

As if they knew you're about to come, he pulled out his fingers. You let out a small whine, feeling the loss of your pussy to be filled. He dip his finger beneath his mask, groaning in pleasure as he tasted your juices with a mix of blood.

Your hair got clutched from behind and dived you to his tent. When he pulled down his boxer, you were awestruck at how thick and veiny his hard rod is. He tapped his dick on your mouth, precum smeared at your lower lips.

"Like what you see?" He chuckled, seeing you looking at his cock like that got him more turned on.

You flustered, eyeing the two black holes resemble eyes staring at you, silently to gain his permission. He nodded, pushing his tip further into your lips.

You subtly open your mouth, licking his precum and heard his deep groan in return. This made you sucked and licked his tip and moved your hand up and down his length.

He tilted his head back. Though you couldn't see with his mask on, a sense of pride grew in you, pleased to see him feel that way.

"You're sure this is your first time? Fuck, this feels amazing." He bucked his hips in your mouth.

"Open your mouth wide open, tongue down. I'm a deep throat till you swallow all of my cum." You do as he said. He thrust his dick deep in your throat, making you gagged but you held it in.

He fucked your mouth relentless, both his hands keeping you in place. Tears pooling down your face as saliva spilling from your mouth until your nose touches his pelvis. You tapped his thigh, coughing up when he pulled out his dick from your swollen lips.

You're too focused on the man in front of you, that your ass was raised in the air and gasped as you felt a tongue licking at your entrance.

"Damn I can eat this pussy all day." He growled from behind, licking and biting your clit. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as his tongue does wonders to you.

You gagged as he pounds in and out of your mouth, while from behind a tongue lick deep in your entrance. His nose teasing your clit, earning you a moan vibrating through the dick in your mouth. Both of them release low moans, reaching their high.

You tap his thigh, pull you away from his dick as you feel a knot in your stomach.

"I-I some-something d-down there." You cried out, feel his friend's wet tongue thrust in and out of your cunt. You gasped from sensation, as he's licked your rim hole.

"Then cum all over his mouth, princess. Let him taste every drop." He strokes his dick as you stick your tongue out to his tip. You feel your release as the man behind lapping your juices clean.

"God, she tastes so good. I wanna fuck her wet cunt till she's scream."

The killer in front of you didn't say a word, staring at his friend

"You can't have her. She beat you up, remember?"

"The fuck that's supposed to mean? We won, she lost."

"Correction, you get beat to a pulp and I'm the one stopping it. So, I get the prize and you just, I don't know. Enjoy the show?"

"I'm already hard and you’re telling me just to watch you all over her? Hell no man!"

They way they're talking about you like you aren't there bothers you, but at the same time kind of hot.

You could tell his friend was frustrated, agitated while him with you on his lap stroking his tip to your folds. You whimpered as he nudged his face mask closer to your neck. You could feel his wet tongue licking and sucking at the cut he gave you.

Deep down you know your choice terrifies you but you don't want his friend left behind.

"There's two holes for a reason, ya know." You mumbled low, but somehow both killers caught on to what you said. They both were stunned. Not long after, the one you sit on his lap snickered darkly.

"You're one dirty little virgin. Didn't know you're into that." He gripped your hips closer to his already hard crotch. You blushed at his indication.

Truth is, you stumbled upon a porn magazine from Stu's wardrobe, asking you for his sweatpants as he was in the bathroom. Curiosity kills you when you open the magazine, the page showed a blond woman penetrated by two men, dick in her cunt while another in her ass.

The image haunted you yet deep down you want to know how it feels like, to get banged by two. As you stare at her lustful face, you jump when you hear Billy's voice from outside Stu's room. So, you threw away the magazine and hastily grabbed his shorts. When Billy enters the room, he stares at you intensely. He always does every time you're in his sight. He raised an eyebrow as you gave the shorts, muttered, "Give it to Stu, he wants it." and you made a mad dash out of his room.

You know for the fact that the chances you're getting DP is slim to none. But seeing as of now, your fuzzy brain was like why not.

"You're an angel, you know that? That's why you're perfect for us." The frustrated Ghostface was now like he's in cloud nine when you told him that, hugging you from behind.

"You're meant for us, (Y/N). Remember that." The one with you on his lap was now laying down on the floor, bringing you with him so that your pussy was placed right on his outstretched cock. As his tip penetrated your entrance, you whimpered as the slight discomfort got you. As your tied arms gripped the black cloth of his front, his hand teasing your clit, trying to distract you from the pain.

As he is completely inside you, the discomfort was replaced slowly with pleasure, fullness from his thick length. His sighed in relief, loving his dick snug deep in your pussy like a vice.

"Fuck you're so tight, baby." He rasped as he helped adjust his length inside you. When he felt you ready, he slowly thrust in and out of you, making you moan.

"You like that? You like riding this cock?" His slow thrust became erratic as he rammed your throbbing cunt. Your mouth gaped open, couldn't reform words when he hit you at the right spot.

"Y-yes, right there. Shit! You're so big." You uttered breathlessly, bouncing his dick as he thrust deeper in you.

As you ride him, you feel another one trying to penetrate your asshole. You jumped at the sudden intrusion, stopping you as he continued to push in, hissing at your shoulder.

"S-shit! My cock gonna cut in half if you keep squeezing me like that." He buried his face on your neck as he roughly thrust you in one go, making you scream.

"M'sorry babe. Can't help it."

You try to glare at his face, or more precisely his mask. You could imagine his stupid grin, staring at you adoringly.

This is too much. For you, a virgin and never been fuck let alone anal, this is a lot to take in. You could feel their dicks stretched inside every hole of you down there. You try adjusting to this new stimulation. They’re both moving in sync, in and out of you, feeling both of their dicks rubbing your wall one at the time. It makes you see stars as they fasten their phase.

Skin slapping filled the room, with your moan and their groan in a mix.

“Fuck fuck fuck I’mma cum!” You feel his hand gripping your hips as his thrust turns sloppy. Your body started to shake as the one beneath encircled his arms around you, keeping you close to his chest as he slammed you hard on your g-spot.

You nearly scream from pleasure as orgasm washed over you, followed by the one behind, pumping his seed into your throbbing asshole. Your pussy tightens is all it needs from the one beneath you to paint his cum on your walls.

He gave his one hard, second thrust at your asshole then pulled out his softened cock. The way he stared at his cum spilling from your ass stirred something inside him.

His fingers subconsciously slipped his overflow cum inside your hole. For some reason, he doesn’t want a single drop of his seed leaking out of you.

You take a deep inhale as your eyes flutter close, trying to calm from your euphoric state. You could hear his heartbeat thumping as your head laid on his chest, with him too catching his breath.

The only thing you remember is feeling a peck on your forehead and a kiss from your nape, with a deep raspy voice you manage to hear before exhaustion overtook your body.

“That’s my good girl.”

After you pass out…

“Man, that’s the best thing happen in my life!” Stu sighed, satisfied as he pulled off his Ghostface mask and slipped in his now soft dick in his pants. He looked over at his friend who was still lying on the ground with their favorite girl on top of him.

“You're lucky I came up with this plan. Knew it our girl had same fantasies like us.” He grinned, smiling like an idiot, while Billy too slowly took off the mask.

“If you didn’t pull out that porn magazine, she wouldn’t even think about it, genius.” He murmured as he stroked your arm. He sighed in relief with his eyes closed, hearing your soft snores calmed him.

Maybe they could pay you another visit, and it will be on nice bed this time.

And sure as hell he'll make sure of that.

#billy loomis #stu macher #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #ghostface x reader #poly ghostface x reader #billy loomis x reader x stu macher #billy loomis x stu macher x reader #scream 1996 #scream fanfic

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beloveds-embrace · 1 month ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/beloveds-embrace/769747896273862656/im-sorry-did-you-say-neglected-omega?source=share

You can't just drop that bomb on us. I feels like I should sue u for emotional damage

I very kindly request some fluff with this 🙏🙏

Can i be 🦋 anon? Pretty pretty please

if i got sued for emotional damage each time I fear i’d have to declare bankruptcy 😭 but ne ways, here you go 🦋 anon! <3

The room still smells faintly of a sour, lonely heat, even weeks later. No matter how many times Gaz scrubs the floors or Price washes the sheets (when you are not there yourself, with your own permission because for all that you wanted to just… keep them away, you had no strength or will to clean the room. That was the only inch you were willing to give), the scent lingers- a sharp reminder of everything they let happen.

Everything they let you go through alone.

They’re careful around you now. Slow. Quiet. Desperate not to spook you, not to push you any further away than they already have. But the distance is unbearable. It feels like walking on glass, and no matter how hard they try to reach you, you stay just out of reach.

So they simply try harder.

Price leaves things outside your door- practical, thoughtful things. Your favorite snacks, warm socks, a thermos of tea that stays hot for hours. Quiet gestures that let you know he’s paying attention. Sometimes he sits outside your room, low voice rumbling through the wood as he tells you about his day. Nothing important, just pieces of himself- things he’s never given anyone else.

Soap is softer, but more desperate.

He leaves drawings, slips them under your door like little apologies. Sketches of you smiling, of the pack piled together, happy and whole. There’s always a note attached.

I’m sorry, bonnie.

Please let me fix this.

And then one day, he spots one of them taped to your wall.

It’s small, but it’s something. It’s enough to lighten his heart just a little, giving him a sliver of hope.

Gaz doesn’t say much, but he does.

He cooks for you, warm homemade meals left outside your door. He waits, heart twisting every time the plate is left untouched. But then one morning, the food is gone, and he has to duck into an empty room so no one sees his reaction. He’d been so stressed seeing you thinner than he remembered, not eating as much as you should’ve, but he feels so, so much better when the plates he leaves you are cleared- eaten, and not just picked at.

Ghost doesn’t know how to fix this with words, so he doesn’t try. .

Instead, he sharpens your knives. Fixes the drafty window. Reinforces your bedframe even if all he wants is for you to return to them, to their nest. Leaves a scarf that smells like him. Little things, pieces of himself, pieces of his devotion.

Because even if you never let him close again, he needs you to know

He’s not leaving. He almost doubts himself, lets his fears cloud his judgement, until he sees the scarf around your neck one day.

It’s slow. God, it’s so slow, but they persist and don’t give up. Never even consider it for one precious second, not when it’s you they could lose.

But one night, Price finds you in the kitchen wearing his jacket.

You freeze when you see him, and for a second, he thinks you’ll run.

You stay.

“…It’s late.” You whisper, shuffling your feet. He smells your hesitance, your worries and fears, and hopes the distance he keeps soothes you. The thought of you feeling like that because of him… it leaves the taste of ash coating his throat.

“So it is.”

And yet, you don’t leave. You don’t push him away, or pull back when he slowly walks closer towards you. You just look at him, eyes tired and sad and-

It’s not forgiveness, when you let him gently caress the back of his hand against your cheeks.

But it’s a start.

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vanteguccir · 10 months ago

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── ୨୧ !　𝗙𝗔𝗞𝗘 𝗦𝗠𝗜𝗟𝗘

　　　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Chris records a TikTok with Tara after many requests from both fandoms, but fans reacted contrary to what he expected, generating questioning thoughts in Y/N.

WARNING: Crying, comparison, fighting.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The morning sun beamed beyond the half-open curtains in the living room, painting the room with orange and gold tones. Sitting at the kitchen table, Y/N immersed herself in her books, trying to focus on her notes as the sounds of Nick and Matt echoed around the house.

At that moment, Chris was absent. He had gone to Tara's house, a new friend of the triplets and, consequently, of Y/N, who had recently become a frequent figure in their lives. The objective was to record a video for Tara's channel since after the large group's social media post together, both fandoms started begging for collabs.

As Y/N immersed herself in her studies, a notification flashed on her phone screen. The girl looked up at her device, seeing the new message.

pretty boy: hi baby!! look, we did a tiktok! I look so cool: link.

A smile curved Y/N's lips as she clicked on the link, curious to see the result of one of Chris and Tara's creations. The video started, and she immediately recognized the song as one of her favorites, humming softly as her eyes captured the funny dance and interaction between the two.

A laugh escaped her lips when she saw Chris shaking his head in the lyrics "Would you get down on knees for me?", remembering all the times the song played when they were together, and exactly in this part, Chris always got down on his knees in front of Y/N, making her laugh.

For a moment, Y/N allowed herself to relax and enjoy the scene. It was a genuine demonstration of their new friendship, and Y/N felt grateful to be part of that dynamic.

However, her joy was momentary.

As the video came to an end, Y/N scrolled through the comments, eager to see the reaction of Tara's followers. What she found left her cold.

Among the funny and complimentary comments, there was a barrage of messages that cut like sharp knives. Ardent fans of both Tara and Chris were heavily shipping them, completely ignoring Chris's long-standing and public relationship with Y/N.

"Chris and Tara are so cute together!"

"I so wanted them to be a couple 😭"

"I'm sorry, Y/N, but you don't hold a candle to Tara. Chris deserves someone like her."

The words echoed in Y/N's mind, like a distant echo of an approaching storm. She felt a tightness in her chest, a mixture of sadness, anger, and confusion.

How could they be so cruel? How could they judge their relationship based on fragments of a distorted reality? Y/N felt vulnerable, exposed to the relentless cruelty of the virtual world.

Her thumb moved automatically as she left the comment box, sliding the screen to the TikTok below the one she was watching, craving a quick distraction. But her hope was suddenly dashed when she saw that the next video was an edit of Chris and Tara's TikTok and all the others after.

She knew the fans were fast, but at that moment, she wanted them to be as slow as possible.

Y/N closed the app with a heavy sigh, fighting to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. It was difficult not to let the strangers' words and opinions get to her.

With a determined effort to forget about it momentarily, Y/N turned her attention back to the books, seeking refuge in the comforting familiarity of the printed pages, forgetting to answer Chris.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The day was coming to an end. In the room shared by Y/N and Chris, the atmosphere was filled with a silent energy, interrupted only by the gentle slide of Y/N's fingers over her phone screen, and the low sounds of various videos.

She was lying in their bed, having already taken a comforting shower, but her mind was still shrouded in a haze of dark thoughts. As she scrolled through her TikTok's For You, romantic edits of Chris and Tara popped up with disturbing frequency. Y/N's expression was a mixture of sadness and self-questioning, her eyes reflecting an inner storm.

She felt her mind defeat her with thoughts of comparison. She knew she would never reach Tara's beauty, humor, and even body.

The heavy atmosphere was interrupted by the sound of the door opening gently. Chris entered the room, radiating an aura of euphoria. His eyes sparkled with joy, and a smile spread across his face with ease.

"Hi, my pretty girl!" Chris greeted, closing the door behind him. "You won't believe how amazing the video with Tara turned out. I can't wait for her to post it so you can see it!"

"Hey, baby! I'm so happy you had fun." Y/N looked up from her cell, forcing a smile on her lips, trying with all her might not to reveal her current state - the last thing she wanted to do was ruin Chris's excitement, but the sadness still hovered in her eyes.

Chris immediately noticed the change in her expression and approached the bed, worried.

"What happened, babe?" He asked in a worried tone, frowning and sitting down next to her.

She just shook her head slightly, unable to put her tumultuous thoughts into words. Chris reached out to caress her face gently, seeking to comfort her with his loving touch.

"You didn't answer my text, I really thought something was happening... You know you can tell me anything, right?" Chris continued gently. He didn't want to force anything out of her.

Y/N nodded, feeling a lump form in her throat. Before he could say anything else, Chris noticed the phone in her hand with almost silent sounds escaping from the speaker, leaning over to peer at the screen.

Romantic edits of Chris and Tara filled Y/N's device. He swallowed hard, instantly connecting the dots.

Chris's comforting touch on Y/N's face seemed to turn cool. His eyes narrowed slightly, and a sigh escaped his lips before he could control it.

"Y/N, are you really upset because of these silly edits?" The boy questioned, his voice filled with disbelief. His touch against the warm skin disappeared within seconds, the boy removing his hand from her face before sitting down on the bed.

Y/N flinched at the accusation implicit in his words, feeling suddenly exposed and vulnerable. Tears threatened to overflow her eyes as she struggled to find a coherent response.

"It's not just because of the edits..." She, her voice shaking with turbulent emotions. "Did you see the comments? They-"

Chris shook his head impatiently, cutting her off abruptly, frustration beginning to seep into his expression. He couldn't understand why something as trivial as fan edits could affect his girlfriend so much.

"Y/N, this is ridiculous!" He continued firmly. "These edits and comments don't mean anything. They're just fan jokes. It's not the end of the world." His voice came out louder than before, his posture now rigid.

His words hit Y/N like a sharp knife, making her feel even more inadequate and misunderstood. Anger bubbled inside her, a simmering mix of resentment and hurt.

"You don't understand, Chris!" She snapped, her voice shaking slightly. Her right hand worked to lock the screen of her phone in one quick motion, tossing it aside. "This isn't just about the edits. It's about how I feel about being compared to Tara, about how it's making me feel inferior to her! How would you feel if people started wanting to see me with a man other than you? While I'm in a relationship with you!"

Chris rolled his eyes dismissively, his patience beginning to wear thin at the intensity of Y/N's emotions.

“You’re so tiring sometimes, Y/N.” He snapped without thinking, his voice tinged with irritation, not giving a damn about how his girlfriend felt. "I can't deal with all this insecurity all the time. It's fucking exhausting."

The words hit Y/N like a punch to the gut, leaving her breathless, her rigid posture quickly crumbling. She felt tears run down her face without force as the painful realization settled in her heart.

She was tiring. She was insecure. She was too much for him to handle.

The pain of rejection burned in her chest as she retrieved her phone again, ripping the comforter off her legs. Her lips were pressed into a thin line tightly in an attempt to stop the ugly sobs that she wanted to let out. She wouldn't give herself the luxury of showing Chris how much he hurt her.

The girl got up from the bed in one quick movement, grabbing her pillow and heading towards the bedroom door.

"Where are you going?" Chris's voice echoed harshly behind her, his body rising from the mattress quickly.

"I'll sleep in the living room." Y/N responded curtly, turning the handle with ease before walking through the door, slamming it, feeling more alone than ever amidst the multitude of turbulent emotions.

She could feel her heart being crushed a little more when she didn't hear Chris call for her again, let alone try to reach her.

The stairs leading to the living room were silent, and her pillow clutched to her chest as a last vestige of comfort in a world that seemed to be falling apart around her. Each step up echoed like a lonely echo in an emotional void that seemed to swallow her whole.

Upon reaching the living room, Y/N found refuge on the empty couch. She curled into the soft upholstery, hugging the pillow tightly as tears continued to roll down her cheeks silently. The phone rested next to her, emitting a dim light that wouldn't turn off, almost begging her to pick it up again.

Hours dragged by like centuries as Y/N fought the ghosts of her own mind.

At some point, she had given up resisting and was on her TikTok again. The algorithm seemed to hate her, delivering her frequent videos of Chris and Tara, which were like a sharp dagger in her heart.

They would really look beautiful together.

Dawn fell heavily upon her, but sleep refused to welcome her into its comforting arms. Instead, she found herself trapped in a whirlwind of torturous thoughts, her mind pounding incessantly with doubts and questions about her relationship with Chris.

Until her brain shuts down completely, letting tiredness win.

At 3 a.m., in the darkness of the night, a familiar figure appeared at the entrance to the room. Chris was there, his tired face etched with worry and regret.

His eyes quickly found Y/N's figure lying on the couch, already asleep, curled up and shivering slightly from the cold. Her eyes were closed, but he could see the swelling that surrounded them, the traces of tears on her cheeks and her still damp face. Next to her, her phone repeatedly played one of the videos she had watched before falling asleep.

A lump formed in Chris's throat. He intensely blamed himself for not having thought before acting and, much less, noticing how much his actions had affected his girlfriend.

With hesitant steps, he approached her, feeling the weight of his own anguish on his shoulders.

Gently, Chris turned off her phone, cutting the endless cycle of pain that had consumed Y/N. He then crouched down beside her, studying her peaceful face with a mixture of love and pain.

With a resigned sigh, the boy carefully took her into his arms, hooking them around her back and behind her knees, feeling the weight of her fragile body against his own chest. Y/N hummed softly in response to his touch but didn't fully wake up.

Chris carried her down the stairs and back to their bedroom, where the soft light from the lamp bathed the room in yellow tones. Tenderly, he placed her on the soft mattress, covering her with the comforter carefully so as not to wake her.

Y/N shifted slightly under Chris's touch and the new surface beneath her limbs, her eyebrows furrowing in an expression of discomfort. She looked restless, as if she were immersed in a nightmare.

Chris watched her for a moment, feeling the weight of his own harsh words weigh on him like an anchor. He knew he had hurt Y/N deeply, and the pain of seeing her suffer was almost unbearable.

With a heavy sigh, he sat down next to her, his hand reaching for her with a tentative touch. Y/N stirred slightly, her eyes finally slowly opening to meet Chris's. She fought the urge to get up and leave the room again, her anger at Chris's actions and sadness in her mind, making her want to avoid him.

For a moment, they simply stared at each other, sharing a silent understanding that transcended words, Y/N making the decision to let him say what he wanted.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry.” Chris muttered, his voice thick with regret. "I was insensitive and selfish. I didn't want to hurt you, I acted on impulse and completely without thinking. This whole situation is not silly if it hurts and bothers you, and I promise that we can talk better about what you saw and how you felt, and solve this together... Just please, give me this chance?"

Y/N blinked slowly, her eyes locked on Chris's as she processed his words. For a moment, she felt the weight of hurt and disappointment pressing against her, but then she saw the sincerity in Chris's eyes, the pure, unconditional love he had always offered her.

And in that moment, she knew that forgiveness was the only good choice to make. With a sigh, she squeezed Chris's hand tenderly, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders.

"Just one chance. I want you to fix what you did and do it right this time."

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thewinter-eden · 2 months ago

Text

You Live Like This?

images are mine (except middle chan pic that I got from pinterest). please do not use without permission. Chan's ATE pcs are my inspo this time.

Series master list PART 2 INFO

pairing: Bang Chan x fem!reader rating: mature, dark themes, one shot summary: home invader!Chris breaks into your home one night to rob you blind, only to realize you’re too poor to rob.

warnings: knives, threatening behavior, mention of rape (nothing in actuality), mention of murder (nothing in actuality), light violence (no harm), swearing, mentions of Carry-On (Netflix), mentions of cheating, fear, terrified but exhausted reader, attempted kiss (no force), satirical plotline. chan fluff.

word count: 5k

Your fingers are curled around the handle of the pot on the stove when you hear it. The slightest click, the faintest ruffle of air. It’s a familiar sound, the gentle push of your front door closing when you’re trying to be quiet.

You freeze, heart pounding, and try to mentally walk yourself back through the past couple of hours. You’d come home from work, still reeling from the latest verbal onslaught from your (former) boss, and kicked the door shut behind you. Had it closed? Had it latched?

It hadn’t.

It must not have.

One of the dogs must have just pushed it closed.

You push the pot off the burner and turn the stove off, smoothing your hands down the front of your sweats. Baited breath, shoulders tensed, you cross the kitchen and poke your head into the entryway, peering through the shadows. You have every light in the chilly house off except for the kitchen, because you’re finally settling down to watch a long awaited film, and you like to set the scene with a dark house.

But that means your entryway is pitch black, and to your slowly adjusting eyes, the coatrack looks like a person’s silhouette.

Before you can convince yourself otherwise, your hand snaps out and hits the light switch.

Flickering yellow light floods the small hall, revealing nothing but your coatrack, the tiny side table that bears the weight of your house keys and the mail, and your kicked off work heels, still laying messily on the inside rug.

Your eyes flick to the other doorway in the hall, the one leading to your living room, but it’s still dark and quiet, so you flick the lights back off.

Dinner is a painfully cheap meal of instant ramen with an egg cracked on top and half a sausage chopped up into the noodles. You don’t bother plating it, rather setting the sauce pan that it cooked in onto a large oven mitt on the table, right next to that damn cardboard filing box.

Retrieving a pair of chopsticks, you settle into your chair and stir the noodles through the eggy broth, unable to stop the heavy sigh the swirls steam directly into your face. Cheap ramen is going to make many appearances in the next couple of months.

It’s not the heat or the spice that brings tears to your eyes as you fight down a mouthful, but rather the weight of your last few days. And, to top it all off, the email from the real estate office that you found waiting for you when you got home a few hours ago, haphazardly dropping the final straw on the proverbial camel’s back.

There’s a thump from your living room, and then the rattle of your dog’s favorite bell toy rolling across the floor.

You grab a napkin and dab your lips, reaching for your bottled water. “Mira,” Your voice fills the empty house. Your oldest dog, thirteen, likes to use the obnoxious rattling of that toy to inform you that you’ve forgotten her dinner time. “Bring it here, Mira.”

The next series of noises makes your heart stop.

The sound of both of your dogs jumping off your bed upstairs, and the absolute elephant stampede of them skittering down the stairs.

Your eyes slide to the dark living room doorway, mind racing as Mira and Pip come skating across the kitchen floor, both trembling excitedly at the prospect of dinner.

You’re out of your chair in a second, ramen forgotten, tripping over both dogs in your lurch for the living room. Your hand reaches through the doorway and slaps the light switch, illuminating the room. Your tv is on, paused where you left it at the opening title of the movie you’re about to watch, but your eyes are pinned to the furniture—the couch and recliner, which both face away from you.

Mira and Pip are swarming around your legs, unbothered by whatever has captured your attention, their wet noses bumping your hips and hands. They want food, and they’re not impressed by how distracted you are, and you know it’s only a matter of time before they’re confiscating the rest of your ramen.

A rush of confidence hits you out of nowhere and you surge into the living room, turning to face down the furniture.

Both empty.

The dog toy is on the floor under the coffee table, innocently silent.

It’s close enough under the lip of the table that you realize it must have been teetering on the edge and finally fallen off just in time to mess with your head.

The breath you let out is loud enough to stir the dogs up again, and Pip snags the hem of your sweater playfully.

“Alright, alright.” Your fright is forgotten as you lead your girls into the laundry room, lowering your voice to try to calm their steadily rising excitement. “Here’s your food, quit your nagging.” You ruffle their ears affectionately and step out, closing them into the laundry room to eat.

They don’t steal from each other, but Pip likes to run between the laundry room and the living room between bites, zooming down the hall and bouncing off the couch, too hyper to chill and eat unless you lock her into the room.

You return to your half-eaten ramen and realize that you’re not hungry.

A second passes as you contemplate dumping the rest of it into the trash, but you decide against it. God knows if you’re going to be able to manage dinners like this in the coming weeks, and you can’t bring yourself to waste the food you have.

But just as you’re sitting down, you hear a creak.

You know that creak.

You know your house.

It’s the fourth step of your staircase, the creak that sounds when you put your weight on the left edge.

The chopsticks fall out of your hand. “Hello?” Your voice booms before you’ve realized you’ve released it, and your eyes skate your countertops. There’s an immersion blender in it’s stand next to your toaster, and it’s heavier than the bamboo spoon that sits next to it, so you grab the handheld appliance.

“Hello?” You don’t really mean to say it again, but you can’t think of anything else to say. What, like a murderer is going to respond? Like they’re going to say, ‘it’s just me, looking for a place to hide in your bedroom!’

You flip every light switch that you pass between your kitchen and the stairs, the cold plastic of the blender pressing painfully into the bones of your hand. You’re holding it so tight that it’s trembling.

There’s no one on the stairs.

As you make your way up, you experimentally put your food to the left edge of the fourth step. Maybe you’d heard wrong. Maybe your brain was messing with you. But as you sink your weight down, that same old creak groans from the wood like it’s mocking you.

Heart hammering, plummeting to the rock bottom of your stomach, you bolt up the rest of the stairs. If someone’s in your house, you’re not just going to give them time to hide by creeping slowly up your own staircase.

Your entire house illuminates in your wake, until there’s not a single shadow left. You poke your head into every room—your room, the guest room, the bathrooms, even the linen closet.

There’s no one.

You lower your battle blender and sag against the wall in relief.

It’s the stress. Burning the candle at both ends for the past week and unsuccessfully attempting to roll with the numerous unprovoked punches has got your brain all strung out and playing tricks on you.

One by one, the lights in your cold house shut off as you double back on yourself and return to the kitchen.

No more interruptions.

You’ll eat the rest of your (now cold) dinner, wash your chopsticks and your sauce pan, and then you’ll settle into your recliner with a cup of cocoa and finally watch that movie.

The noodles are mushy in your mouth, the egg rubbery.

A ragged, frustrated sob scrapes past your teeth as you hunch over the pan.

You’re so busy trying to convince yourself that your dinner isn’t gross, that the noodles don’t look like the worms from that horror movie you watched last week, that you really shouldn’t throw it on the floor and cry, that you don’t even notice the soft footsteps of the man entering your kitchen behind you.

You don’t notice the kitchen knife that glints in his hand, or the way his eyes alight on your cellphone where you abandoned it on the counter.

You don’t notice him slip it into his pocket and settle his eyes on you.

In fact, you don’t notice him at all until his breath is on your ear, returning your greeting from earlier. “Hello.”

Both chopsticks fly out of your hand as you dive away from the voice in your ear. The shriek you utter deafens you, and the table scrapes the floor when you try to use it to push yourself away.

Hands clamp down on your arms, immobilizing you completely.

There’s a moment where your brain blanks out, and then it’s filling with answers and questions. You’re trying to cope, all whilst being held down in your own kitchen. Maybe it’s your friend from work? Maybe it’s Woosung, but would he really come back like this? Maybe it’s your neighbor—anything to manifest an answer other than the truth.

There’s a stranger in your kitchen.

There’s a stranger in your house.

His grip tightens as you thrash and scream, and suddenly you’re yanked back against your chairback and his mouth is pressed to your ear again.

“Stop screaming.”

That’s when you see the knife. It’s in the corner of your eye, reflecting light from your overhead onto your face, and you realize that he’s holding your left arm with a thumb and two fingers because the other two are gripping a blade from your knife block.

You have a damn knife block.

Why the hell did you run upstairs with an immersion blender when you have a block full of knives?

Your mouth clamps shut.

The grip on your arms loosen and your chair is suddenly being jerked away from the table.

You use the second of freedom to bolt out of your seat, arms reaching for the counter where you’d left your phone.

It isn’t there.

Before you can redirect your efforts to searching for a weapon, a hand grips your wrist and spins you around so forcefully that your shoulder twinges.

You see him now.

He looms over you, and he’s everything you’ve ever feared finding in the dark shadows of your house. His broad shoulders are cloaked in a huge black hoodie, black gloves covering his hands, a mask covering his mouth and nose and his hood drowning the rest of his face in darkness.

In the next second, the man swathed in darkness lunges at you and you crumple, screaming.

Your knees hit the floor with a painful crack, your arms whipping up to protect your face, but then he’s on you, impossibly fast.

“I told you to stop screaming.”

He wrenches your arms around behind your back, and you feel something rough wrap around your wrists—a kitchen towel binding your hands together.

When your hands are secured behind your back, his gloved hand claps over your mouth, the movement crushing you back against his chest.

Terror claws at your heart. Every muscle in your body trembles as the man pants against you and your eyes squeeze shut.

He’s going to kill you.

Or he’s going to rape you.

Or he’s going to rape you and then kill you.

“Are you going to shut up?” His voice rasps in your ear, his fingers still pressing harshly into your face.

You nod.

He waits before he lets go, as though testing the tension in your body, and then his hand falls away and he pushes you off of his chest.

The man rises and moves away from you, leaving you to sag against the kitchen cabinets as a swell of emotion leaves your body in a rush. He’s left you on the tile floor, not bothering to even look at you once he’s back on his feet.

You pull your legs under you to sit cross-legged, curiosity suddenly overwhelming the fear that has you in a vice.

He’s at your table, ignoring your pot of ramen and the cardboard box, gloved fingers picking up your laptop and flipping it over to see the manufacturer’s stickers. Then he slides the laptop into the backpack slung across his shoulders and your heart sinks for what feels like the hundredth time.

When he turns to your expensive Nikon camera next, you can’t help but let your head droop in defeat.

Of course you’re being robbed.

After everything this week already, why not?

Might as well put the icing on the cake and steal everything you own.

You almost hope he decides to kill you on his way out, so at least then you don’t have to think about waking up tomorrow with nothing at all to your name.

After sliding the professional grade camera gently into his bag, the intruder turns on his heel to reach for your purse hanging on the back of one of your chairs, and his eyes fall on your dejected form.

Shoulders slumped, head bowed, tears free falling to plop a little mascara-swirled splatter pattern into your white socks.

He puts the knife down and snatches up the purse.

A second later, though, he’s looking at you again.

He’s seen your entire house. He knows you’re struggling—from the empty living room with nothing but old furniture and a TV from 2018, to your bedroom with your empty jewelry box, to the entryway table stacked high with unpaid bills, to the empty driveway and lack of car keys—literally the only thing he’s going to get away with tonight is your relatively nice laptop (last year’s model) and the camera that probably costs the same as a new motorcycle.

Your empty house is so pathetic that he almost feels bad for taking the two electronics.

They’re literally all you have, if he doesn’t count the Walmart-brand clothing hanging in your closet and the dirty fast food uniform crumpled in the floor of your bedroom.

From where you sit on the floor, you take in a deep breath, sniffle once, and close your eyes.

A fresh round of tears splash down on your socks.

“Are you…okay?” He doesn’t know why he asks, or why he thinks he’ll get any answer other than some insult regarding his assault on your person, but he can’t help it.

Your body sways like his words have had a physical impact. “Of course I’m not fucking okay.” You hiss, and turn your head away from him.

He unzips your wallet and thumbs through the bills. There’s not a lot of money, and you don’t have any credit cards. “I could be the last person you ever talk to,” He says absently, and he’s joking, but you don’t know that. “You might as well get it all out now.”

He hears your head smack into the kitchen cabinet just before it all comes out in a devastated wail. “I just wanted to watch this stupid movie. I’ve been waiting for two weeks for it to come out so I could watch it with Woosung—”

Your boyfriend, he assumes.

“But two days ago he decided to fuck my best friend instead—”

Your ex boyfriend, he corrects himself.

“And then I got laid off because my boss found out that three quarters of his workforce is going to try to get unionized, and I already wasn’t getting paid enough to pay my bills so I had to get a second job in fast food even though I had to sell my car and the realtor is coming to look at the house tomorrow—”

He cuts you off mid-sob. “Which movie?”

You blink, stunned. “What?”

He’s now leaning against your table, fingers playing with the edge of the cardboard box that he now realizes is full of the contents of your desk, still unpacked because you clearly had to go collect your things earlier today. His backpack is on the table next to your pot of ramen, your purse still hanging on your chair with your wallet still inside.

Between the hood and the face mask, you see his eyebrows lift. “Which movie have you been waiting for?”

Your face screws up in confusion, tears and snot dripping off your chin, and your eyes dart to the living room. “It…it’s called Carry-On. On Netflix.”

The man follows your gaze, thinking for a long second, his arms crossed over his broad chest. “Alright, sure. I’m down.”

Fear and confusion battle it out in your chest until you’re sure you’re having a stroke. He wants to watch a movie with you? In the middle of his robbery? “I can’t watch a movie with you.”

His face swings back around to you. “Why not?”

He sounds so genuinely curious (and a little bit offended) that you have to remind yourself to stop gaping at him.

“Because…you…you’re robbing me.” Gaze darting significantly to his backpack full of the only remnants of your livelihood, you find yourself having an even harder time understanding this turn of events than you had when he first appeared behind you.

The man lets out a scoff, head canting back as though you’ve cracked a joke. “And you’re an expert on robbing procedure?” A huffs a short laugh and tosses his hood off with a quick swipe of his hand.

Dark curls burst into view.

As he reaches for his face mask, your feet kick out on reflex and you’re suddenly fighting the stiffness in your spine to wildly turn your body away from him. Dozens of episodes of the true crime podcast you listen to every day come to mind, ringing through your skull at the implication of seeing this man’s face, and the fear sets in like a poison. “No, please don’t take your mask off—I swear I won’t report any of this—you don’t have to kill me—”

He cuts off your desperate pleas abruptly. “Babygirl, shut up and go push play.”

The completely unexpected pet name, combined with the feeling of him releasing your hands from the dish towel binding has you falling utterly still, mouth silent. His thumb and forefinger grasp your chin and pull your head around, and you’re faced with a young man and his dimpled smile that grins at you like you’re his best friend.

It’s weird. It’s all wrong.

“What are you going to do to me?” You whisper, edging as slowly as you can out of his grasp.

You can’t see his knife anywhere, but that doesn’t mean that this man with his huge shoulders and massive hands can’t crush you without the use of a weapon.

“I’m going to force you to watch a movie with me.”

Your face blanches at his choice of words and he leans back, exasperated. “Not like that. Go into the living room. You got any more of that?” He nods to the cocoa packet on your counter, next to the hot water kettle.

His hands on your elbows bring you to your feet, and you point shakily to the drawer beneath the counter. “In the drawer.”

The next thing you know, you’re sitting on the couch with a mug of cocoa, your robber sitting on the other end with his own cup, and you can’t even process the scenes on the TV in front of you. You’ve been wanting to watch this stupid movie for two full weeks, and now you don’t even acknowledge it.

Your limbs are as stiff as steel, your heart pounding obnoxiously in your ears, your body leaning as far away from the man who’s introduced himself as Chris as possible. Your eyes are pinned on him, memorizing the slope of his nose and the cut of his jaw and the curve of his eyes.

You tell yourself it’s to get a description for the police, but as the movie goes on and he just keeps to himself and comments on the scenes, you start to relax. It takes half an hour, but you finally allow yourself to move enough to take a sip from the cocoa in your hands.

It warms your insides, fighting against the chill of your house, and lowers your defenses ever so slightly.

Suddenly, Chris notices your eyes on him and he looks at you, one eyebrow quirked. “You don’t like the movie?”

You don’t even remember what you’re watching.

“Are you going to take my TV?”

His eyes disappear into crescents as his face breaks into a smile. “Babygirl, your TV is shit.”

There’s that pet name again.

Heat floods into your cheeks but you tell yourself it’s because he’s identified the fact that you haven’t been able to afford to replace your ancient television, even though the apps frequently crash. He’s going to kill you later when Netflix crashes and you have to get up and unplug the TV for ten seconds to make it work again.

Oh, God, he might actually kill you.

But he just goes back to commenting on the movie. “I can’t look at her without thinking Disney channel.”

You’re thinking about his backpack in the kitchen, wondering if you can get up and steal your stuff back and hide it without him noticing. You wonder where your phone went, if you left it on the bus or if you actually did leave it on the counter—which means Chris has it.

The knife he grabbed from your block is probably on the table, too. You could hide it, or take it for yourself. You just have to tell him you want a drink from the kitchen and get up—

You have a drink. It’s the cocoa he made for you.

Maybe he poisoned it? Roofied it?

But you watched him make it. You already know it’s safe.

“Did you see him in the Kingsman movies?” He asks, and your eyes flick to the screen.

You nod absently, humming a noncommittal yes as you sip from your cup.

Chris cups his own mug in both hands, his focus never leaving the TV screen. “I can’t take Jason Bateman seriously after Identity Thief.”

You’re so confused you could cry. “Why are you doing this?” You burst out, tears flooding your eyes again. “You attacked me and tried to rob me and now you’re drinking my cocoa and watching my Netflix?”

His gaze swings to you again, eyes wide with surprise. He watches you, huddled in the corner of your own couch with your knees crushed to your chest, literally shaking from head to toe, and his features soften into a smile. “I can’t do it,” He admits.

You sniffle, blinking at him.

“It’d be like that scene from the Disney Robin Hood, when the sheriff takes the kid’s birthday money. God, I still can’t watch that without tearing up.” He rolls his eyes to the ceiling in remembrance and then looks back at you, his lips cutely pursed.

No, not cutely.

This man tried to rob you.

He’s not cute.

“So, you’re not robbing me?”

He shakes his head with a shrug. “Nah. But don’t worry about it, your neighbors have some good shit. I’ll hit them next week, as per my original plan. And I was never going to hurt you, by the way. That’s way too high profile for me. I like to skate under the radar.” He makes a sweeping gesture with his hand, miming his skating under the radar. After a moment, he brings his mug to his lips and muttered, “Boy did I fail tonight.”

You let your feet drop to the floor, turning to face him as some of the tension releases from your muscles. “Don’t do that—you can’t do that. Don’t rob my neighbors.”

He raises an eyebrow at you over the lip of his cup. “I will rob your entire neighborhood before I put on a uniform like the one you’ve got upstairs.”

You gasp, the creak on your stairs returning to mind. “I knew it—you were upstairs!”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah. And I was soooo scared of you and your stirrer stick thing. Thanks for putting your dogs away for me—made my snooping much easier.”

You’ve forgotten about your girls, but they can wait. “It’s an immersion blender.” You snap. “And I could have blended the hell out of you.”

He fakes a shiver and makes a mocking noise of fear. “You sure we shouldn’t be watching a horror movie?”

“My life is a horror movie.” You shoot back, smacking your mug down on the side table. Returning to your earlier point, you turn back to him and almost find yourself leaning closer. “Please don’t rob my neighborhood, Chris. The people next door have me over for dinner on Sundays and the family down the street helps me with the yard work and home repairs.”

After a moment, he relents with a thoughtful nod. “Alright fine, I’ll rob your ex then.”

You can’t help the wicked pleasure that brings you. “I suppose that’s alright. I have his address in my phone somewhere.” Your eyebrows lift as you say it, hoping he’ll get the hint.

He does.

Chris gives a little jump, like he’d totally forgotten, and then digs in the pockets of his joggers. “Oh, right. Here. I’m hoping you won’t call the cops now that we have a pact.” He bobs his eyebrows at you.

You take your phone from him and roll your eyes, finally settling into your couch with little concern for the danger from earlier. “Scare him like you scared me and we have a deal.” You can just imagine Woosung huddled in some corner of his apartment, screaming his rotten little heart out while Chris looms over him with a knife. “But, like, don’t kill him.”

Chris deflates a little, like he’d been interested in trying something new, but he jabs out a hand anyway. “Deal.”

You clap your hand into his and find yourself smiling.

When you don’t pull away immediately, Chris searches your face with soft eyes. “He really fucked you up, didn’t he?”

The memory from a few days ago, finding your boyfriend of two years in your bed with your best friend comes crashing back down on you. You’re so busy fighting the rush of tears that you don’t notice that your playful handshake has turned into Chris cradling your hand in his. “He said it was a mistake.” You sniffle and turn your eyes to the TV.

Chris gives your hand a squeeze. “Me thinking I could find anything worth stealing in this house was a mistake.” He grins widely when you take the bait and slap his chest with your free hand.

It’s way flirtier than you were intending.

“He’s an asshole.” Chris says, and it helps.

“Yeah.” You agree. “They both are. You are, too, kinda.”

Chris gapes at you, actually offended. “I’m the only one who showed up for you this week, how can you say that?”

“You also tied me up and held me at knifepoint, which is definitely asshole behavior.” You realize your hand is still in his, and you pull away, but your shocked smile doesn’t leave your face.

How is this happening? This man broke into your house and you’re sitting on your couch, watching a movie and flirting with him? You must be insane.

You’re so deeply lost in your mind, questioning your own sanity, that you don’t notice how close he’s leaning to you until his breath hits your ear.

It’s a parallel of earlier, but this time the heat his closeness carries is an entirely different sort.

Your heart pounds wildly in your throat and you lean away, gawking at him. “Woah, pump the brakes, Klepto.”

He falls back against your couch, a defeated smile curling his lips as he laughs at himself. “I thought we were having a moment?”

“I’m not kissing you after you broke into my house.” You refute weakly, crossing your arms over your chest. You have to do something to put distance between the two of you, because the way Chris is looking at you is putting a fluttering sensation in the pit of your stomach.

“Babygirl, the only broke in here is you.”

Your jaw hits the floor. The third use of that damn pet name is getting to you. “I can’t believe I’m being poverty shamed by the guy who steals stuff for a living.”

He practically squeaks with laughter, the movie finally forgotten. “If I go outside and knock, can I kiss you then?” Chris leans in close again, but lets himself be shoved away by your hand on his chest.

“Why don’t you try it?” Your cheeks are on fire.

Chris sighs, abandoning his efforts and leans back into his own space. “You’re not going to let me back in, are you?”

The movie fills the silence. You’re finally comfortable enough that you want to ask if you can put it back to the beginning and watch it over again, but you don’t.

It feels like only moments later that you’re being gently shaken awake, a hard warmth under your cheek.

“You’re falling asleep on me babygirl. Why don’t you go to bed?” Chris’s voice asks, and you realize you’re slumped over on his shoulder.

This man broke into your house, attacked you in your kitchen, all but called you pathetically broke, and now you’ve fallen asleep on him.

Your life is utterly wrecked.

“Don’t have a bed. I sleep here.” You mumble.

Chris freezes. “What?”

He was upstairs earlier, looking for valuables. How did he miss a detail like that?

“Sold my bedroom set,” You say. “Bought groceries and paid the mortgage. I sleep on the couch.”

Chris is suddenly scooting out from under you, carefully lowering your head to rest on the couch pillow. “Alright, go to sleep then. I’ll turn the heater on before I go, where’s your thermostat?” He smooths a hand over your hair, glancing around the walls.

“I had my heating turned off,” You explain sleepily. “Just blankets.”

Chris can’t believe he tried to rob you, and he further can’t believe how much it bothers him that you can’t afford basic necessities. “Babygirl, you can’t live like this.”

You’re already asleep.

When you wake up in the morning, huddled on the couch under an obnoxious pile of blankets, you find your laptop and your camera on the kitchen table, and Chris’s phone number scrawled onto a sticky note on your coffee table.

‘Had a great time last night. Coffee later? Also, text me your ex’s address. - Chris.’

PART 2 INFO

Hope you guys liked it! Comments make my day :)

@whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @estella-novella

#skz #horror #stray kids #fanfic #bang chan #bang chan x reader #chan #chan x reader #bang chan fluff #crack #stray kids crack #skz crack #bangchan #christopher bang

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mimiii-3 · 30 days ago

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Batsib being darlings favorite? 👀 Can you imagine the frustration the batfam would go through?

Oh, you will only do that if darling cuddles you? No need! They'll ask batsib for it instead! I'd love this au tbh. It's even better now (in that hc) batsib stole darling away

Good idea!

…

Saboteur: Two Most Wanted Prequel Pt.2

Yandere Platonic Batfam x GN Neglected Reader

Notes: typical yandere themes, kinda funny

…

What if Batsib becomes Darling’s favorite person in the manor…

🦇 - the close bond you share with Darling caught the Batboys’ attention right away

🦇 - you had always been nice to Darling but your new behavior was confusing to them

🦇 - you were no longer Bruce’s number one source of Darling news

🦇 - there were no new discoveries of needles, batteries, or kitchen knives

🦇 - to make matters worse, Darling stuck by your side like glue

🦇 - the batboys just have to sit and watch while you braid Darling’s hair or paint their nails

🦇 - Dick is the first of the batboys to try and intercept

🦇 - he spots you and Darling hanging out in the living room, watching tv

🦇 - Darling sits perched on one side of the couch while you lounge against the other side

🦇 - he tiptoes into the room before plopping down right in between the two of you

🦇 - he’s shocked when Darling gets up and storms out of the room

🦇 - Dick looks over at you and sees you smile at him while lazily knocking your foot against his side

🦇 - this is when the shift in the manor starts

🦇 - the batboys desperately try and win Darling’s attention and affection while you sit by and watch

🦇 - your heart feels incredibly full watching them flounder while begging for Darling’s love

🦇 - now they know what it’s like to be you

…

Darling waits in front of Tim’s room, weighing their options. Darling wants a Nintendo switch but knows that Bruce will flip at the idea. Their next best solution is Tim, the psychopath.

They let out a small huff before knocking against Tim’s door. His door swings open almost instantly. Darling figures he must have been watching them through the camera in the hallway.

Darling looks up at Tim sweetly, “Tim, I was wondering if you could buy me a Nintendo switch? I really want to play Animal Crossing.”

Tim pretends to think about the request before tapping his chin. “That sounds like something I could get. But you know Bruce won’t be too happy so I’m putting my neck on the line for you.”

Darling stays perfectly still. They can sense that their older brother will ask for a pretty price for the switch.

“Tell you what,” Tim sighs, “how about an advance on my cuddle time - in exchange for the console and the game.”

Darling feels that pinching feeling at the back of their neck. The batboys have scheduled cuddle times throughout the month. Tim’s scheduled cuddle time isn’t until two weeks from now.

Darling fights the urge to cringe, “I’ll give you one hug for the switch and one hug for the game. No more, no less.”

Tim smiles at Darling’s attempt at a negotiation. He lives for Darling’s fiery spirit as they try and navigate the many rules of the family.

“Nope.” The corners of Tim’s eyes crinkle with mischief, “You either take my deal or say goodbye to Animal Crossing.”

Darling glares at Tim’s gleeful expression. Without another word, Darling spins on their heel and marches toward the kitchen.

Tim’s floored. He knew they wanted that Nintendo switch for a while now. He had found that page of the Christmas catalog tucked neatly between their mattress and the bed frame.

He didn’t understand how Darling could just walk away. His proposal was reasonable. Tim had already done the mental math and there was no way they’d pass on his deal.

Tim’s curiosity gets the better of him and he follows Darling downstairs. By the time he gets there, Darling is already taking to you.

Tim peeks around the wall to listen in on the conversation. He nearly faints at what he hears.

“Hey big sib, can you get me a Nintendo switch and Animal Crossing.”

You reach over and pat Darling on top of the head, “Sure thing, Button. You want a case too?”

Darling nods happily and wraps their arms around you, “Yes! Thank you so much!”

You chuckle at their enthusiasm before pulling out your laptop to make the purchase. Darling hangs off of your shoulder while rambling about the villagers and decorating.

Cue Tim sliding down the wall with his head in his hands.

…

Extra Notes: I wanted to write more this weekend but I was busy Oopsies😅

Tag list:

@jjsmeowthie @shawty-a-lil-baddie @butratherbutrather @shirp-collector-of-fixations @stove-top96 @yaoizee @bellethesleepypotato @salfishers @eli-mayhaveatencats

#dc x reader #dcu #batfam x reader #batsiblings #gn reader #yandere x reader #batsib!reader #platonic yandere x reader #platonic batfam #sibling reader #yandere tim drake #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfam #yandere platonic batfamily x reader

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dcxdpdabbles · 2 months ago

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#Holiday Request I love all your AUs so much, thank you for sharing them! I've been craving some Bruce/Danny lately, would you be willing to write more of Freelance Inventor?

Danny helps his mom set the foldable table, lining it up with their dinner table and the second one he had placed previously. Quickly cleaning off the surface with a wet rag, Danny ensures there is no dust before laying a lovely red tablecloth on it.

The red material nearly hides the poinsettia embroiled in the design in a darker shade of red. He runs his hands over it, smiling at the memories this cloth has brought him.

His grandmother passed it down to his mother after his parent's marriage. It was initially meant to be used for Christmas dinners only as per Fenton tradition. Still, seeing as his parents always turned that into a month-long argument, the Fentons started to use it as a Thanksgiving dinner decoration only.

He always brightened whenever his mom would come down from the attic saying the truck of unique Thanksgiving tablecloths. There were seven altogether, but it warmed him whenever he saw it.

Maddie promised to give the trunk to the first of her children to marry, and secretly, Danny hoped it would be him. His sisters liked Thanksgiving fine but not as much as he.

Thanksgiving was his favorite holiday. His family always cooked together, played games, watched movies, had silly little Fenton traditions, and it was just a time to be together.

Bruce and his kids would be coming over this year. Alfred had hurt his back and could not cook Thanksgiving dinner as usual, so Danny asked if the Waynes could join them.

Ever since their friendship, Danny has spent Thanksgiving in Amity Park. Christmas in Gotham and New Year would be a switch between them. His family had been fine with him splitting the holidays, but his Dad had been asking for years for the two to mix, and this year would finally be it.

Danny finishes setting the plates, knives and forks down. He made sure to fold the napkins into animals for the respected person sitting there. A peacock for Alfred, A butterfly for Bruce, an elephant for Dick, a robin for Jason, a bat for Tim, A dog for Damian, an octopus for Steph, a swan for Cass, a bunny for Duck, a bear for Jazz, a cat for his mom, a jellyfish for Dad, an owl for Dani and finally gorilla for himself.

Danny has his own trunk for Thanksgiving, having started purchasing solid linen napkins when he was seven. He uses multiple sizes and colors to make his animals, and when he's done, he can't help but beam at the colorful animals on the plates.

Except for Alfred's. His peacock is sitting inside his wine glass, the green and blue of his tail falling over his plate.

In the kitchen, his mom and dad are dancing around each other, wiping up a meal that, for once, isn't anywhere near ectoplasm. The pair had gone in beforehand to remove contamination and cleaned it out, claiming they wanted to impress Bruce's family. This means that their food will likely not come to life this dinner.

It also meant the Waynes would be mighty surprised by how good chiefs his parents are. In the privacy of his heart, Danny keeps the secret that while Alfred was good, he was nowhere near Fentons' level of cooking.

Jazz comes down from upstairs, looking dazzlingly in her black dress and perfectly done make-up. The Fentons always dressed to the nines for Thanksgiving, even if they only stayed in their living rooms.

"Looks great, Danny!" She says with a bright smile,e eyeing the table and smiling when her eyes land on her bear. Danny had used a white napkin to simulate Bearbert's lab coat. "Finished with the rest of the house?"

Danny waves his hand, beaming at the decorations he has set up. The entire first floor had miniature pumpkins scattered about on tabletop surfaces. The couch cushions had been replaced with light orange ones. Hung up around doorways and surrounded windows were red, brown, and yellow leaves fines, interweaved with sunflowers.

Small sunflower wreaths were also placed on the walls, and linking them together was a sheer red cloth that dropped into small hoops between them.

A few larger pumpkins were placed near the walls, and some fake leafy vines were placed on the ground to resemble a pumpkin patch pathway. Danny loved the multiple scented candles and small acorn lights he had looped around the edges of the furniture, turning off the other lights to make them pop.

It gave a homey but festive vibe that he knows the Waynes are unused to. The decorations for their Holidays were always large and expensive. Brought together by a team of interior designers who made everything look great, just slightly artificial.

Or maybe that was Danny's middle-class mindset.

The Fentons had money- with his parent's PhDs, Danny's freelance, Jazz's brilliant work, and Dani's photos- but they had always remained with a middle-class mindset, never going for the over-the-top shows of wealth the Waynes had.

Even the clothes he had on now made him feel like they were too much, despite having bought them himself. He was wearing his best suit, and Bruce took him to get tailored because heaven knows Danny couldn't tell what was considered good quality. Although they hugged his body in all the right places, Danny felt silly.

"Wonderful work as usual." Jazz's smile turned even larger. His sister considers the hung-up wreaths with a critical eye. Danny moved to stand next to her as she sighed wishfully. "Remember the year you learned how to make those?"

Danny laughs. "Yeah, you biked me to all the hobby stores in Amity Park because I was determined to make my own decorations and didn't understand why a seven-year-old couldn't walk alone."

"You threw such a fit about standing on my training wheels while I petaled." She snorts, shifting her voice higher to emulate kid Danny. "Jazz, can't you go faster! People think we need training wheels like I could ride a bike without them. I literally hit a tree the day before!"

"I was embarrassed people were seeing us 'cause I didn't realize how awesome it was for my nine-year-old sister to do something like that for me." Danny side hugs her. "You were pretty amazing growing up, Jazz. I'm sorry I didn't realize it as a kid."

His elder sister hugs him back. "It's alright. I'm sorry I was so stubborn as a kid, too. You were right back then. We could have just walked."

"Yeah, but then we would have missed out on bonding in the hospital when we went down Sisneros Hill." Danny laughs. " The matching casts were a good lesson for how breaks worked."

Jazz snorts, then bursts into laughter as the memories play again behind her eyes. Danny finds himself joining her, and his heart swells with love. Eventually, they calm down long enough for Jazz's eyes to soften at the small table with crafts supplies. "You're going to include the Waynes in the Danny's decor tradition?"

"Yup." Danny rubs the back of his head. "I figured we could do it after Dinner. Before or during Dad's karaoke."

Danny planned on having the Wayne children make their own wreaths to add to his collection. He hoped they liked it as it was a Fenton tradition he started with his family when he was nine.

The one above the little table was the first ever wreath he made at nine years old. It looked terrible compared to the others, but it made him happy.

Jazz hums "I'm sure they will love it. Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, what's up."

"What's going on between you and Bruce?" Jazz turns to him, crossing her arms but not looking judgmental. If anything, there is only curiosity in her voice. "You've known him for ten years, you're heavily involved with his kids' upbringing, and even though you always travel for work, you always make time for him and the kids. Are you two dating?" "

Danny blinked, taken aback. "I mean....Bruce means a lot to me, but I'm not sure we have that kind of relationship."

Jazz considers his response before carefully asking, as if worried her words will offend "Do you want to have that kind of relationship with him?"

The question causes him to pause. He finds his mind drawing a blank even if his heart leaps a little in his chest.

"I don't know. You know I don't really feel urges like that." He admits after a while, leaning back into the wall and picturing Bruce's face. It flashes with a warmth that he rarely saw the billionaire betow upon anyone else. But did that make him excited? Was it only for him? Did he want to do things with Bruce?

He wrinkles his nose at the thought of Bruce and him in bed, but the idea of kissing the other man isn't so bad. Unusual since Danny always found the action to be gross.

"I know you're asexual, but that isn't the same thing as being aromantic." His sister says gently. "You can want to have a romantic relationship with someone without the physical aspects."

"I guess I just never considered it." He admits after a moment of the pair standing there. His mind is whirling with the idea now. He thought that after ten years, he had never considered the idea that Bruce was something more.

But in a way, he was. Bruce had somehow turned into one of his most important people, always playing in the back of his mind, and when Danny thinks of happiness, he imagines the Waynes. When someone says family, it isn't just his parents and sisters; it's the rich man with a heart of gold, his butler, and his ragtag team of children.

Goodness. When did that happen?

"That's alright if you don't," Jazz tells him. She nods her head to where his parents are finishing the touches on the dinner. Dani had come down at some point- looking fabulous in her red jumper- and was helping Dad with the fudge. "They consider Bruce your lover, you know? Mom and Dad still struggle with the concept of asexual, so don't let them pressure you tonight. They will start asking for you two to set a wedding date, and although I talked them out of it, don't be surprised if they corner you later."

Danny thinks back to all the graduations, the birthday cards, the Christmas presents, and the random visits his parents would do for the Wayne children. It hits him then that they had been treating them like grandchildren since Dick was nine, and he wonders why he never noticed before.

No wonder Dad has wanted mixed holidays for years now. They thought they were grandparents.

The strangest part? Danny was okay with it if they saw the Wayne children as grandchildren. It actually made him feel warm and proud to be their son.

But that would mean they saw Bruce as their son-in-law, and Danny wasn't sure how he felt about it yet. He liked it, but he was scared of what it implied.

Why did his heart leap with joy? Why did he imagine coming home to Bruce? Why did he feel giggly and nervous like a schoolboy again?

Had Danny....been in love with Bruce for years and never noticed? Is this feeling the same as other people's when they like someone romantically?

Jazz observes his face, able to read him long before she finishes her psychology degree in profiling. She must see his thoughts because she reaches out to place a comforting hand on his arms. "Whatever you figure out, Bruce has been here for ten years. He'll be here for ten more, even if it's just as friends."

The doorbells dings. Dani bounces out of the kitchen towards it with a cheer. "They're here!"

Danny glances over, and his eyes catch Bruce's warm ones over his younger sister's head. His heart flutters as his friend gives him that unique smile despite Dani clutching him in a bone-crushing hug. His children are piled behind him, and seeing it all makes him feel like the luckiest guy on earth.

Oh gods, was he in love?

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #Freelace inventor #spirit halloween ship #Acesexual Danny Fenton #Why was danny so unaware for ten years? Because of that #Bruce loves him anyway and he might not be ace but he don't need it #Jazz being the MVP sister #Maddie and Jack are good parents. Just confused #Danny treats Thankgiving like Christmas #His favorite holiday #The slowburn is finally bareing fruit #holiday requests #Part 7

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tacticalprincess · 9 months ago

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life with retired!könig… he’ll take you on whatever vacations your heart desires, because he can’t say no to you and takes pride in being the one to show you the world, but as for home life; i see him hauling you somewhere rural and mildly secluded with green land that stretches on for miles. a large yet humble home with lots of open windows and old architecture.

not quite an animal farm, but youve got some adopted dogs, cats, and rabbits to keep you company, and you always pad sleepily into the kitchen to see him with the smaller ones perched on his broad shoulders while he sips his coffee and watches the news, a puddle of big grumpy old dog at his feet.

he harvests fruits and vegetables next to your flower garden, and pretends not to notice you accidentally drowning one of your plants, transfixed by how attractive he looks all sweaty and dirty, soft bulky muscles bulging out of his shirt.

food becomes a love language — cooking meals together is könig’s favorite activity to do with you. though he’s always coddling, insisting you let him handle the sharp knives and getting food in and out of the oven. buzzes like a fly around your homemade sauce, arms wrapped around you from behind, until you let him have a taste from your fingers.

at night, sitting on the bathroom sink with him between your legs, leaning down with his arms braced on either side of you so you can massage various oils and creams into his slightly overgrown stubble. he’ll furrow his eyebrows at it and ask if it’s all really necessary, but he loves the feeling of your soft hands all over his face too much to stop you, something akin to butterflies swirling in his stomach from you doting on him so gently. he can’t complain when the razor cuts like butter along his face, giving him the smoothest shave of his life.

holding his face to your chest, fingers raking through his hair as your soft voice soothes him back to sleep after he’s waken abruptly from a nightmare of flashbacks from his past jobs, his strong arms wrapped around your middle devastatingly tight. you’re his peace, his safehaven, adding a tranquility and softness to his life he’s never had before. he doesn’t plan on ever letting you go.

#bella writes⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚#konig cod #konig x reader #konig call of duty #könig cod #könig x reader #konig x you #konig x y/n #könig call of duty #könig fanfiction #könig x y/n #könig x you #könig mw2 #cod x reader #cod

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lordprettyflackotara · 6 months ago

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habits || bloody painter

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+ tw: descriptions of gore, murder, abusive/toxic relationship, stalking, service dom!helen, borderline yandere helen, overstimulation, praise

Helen considered himself to be a poised and intelligent young man.

He had never considered himself lowly enough to crave romantic affairs, nevertheless develop a full fledge obsession.

He lived his life on a scheduled routine. The only variable he allowed to change was in which victim he selected. His creativity was shown through out his art pieces, he didn’t need tons and tons of action to keep him mentally satisfied. After all, he was an artist. A painter. One with methods society disapproved of, but a painter nevertheless. Helen considered himself to be content with life.

He came and went from the Trenderman mansion as he pleased. On Tuesday’s he spent quality time with The Puppeteer. What else could he possibly need?

That question became answered, once he saw you.

Helen hadn’t even meant to see you. Your neighbor had been his choice for his routine victim. Middle aged man with a habit of watching the neighborhood kids play in the street. One would normally find that endearing, but the contents Helen found in the mans household were not so much. Helen thought he had done a fine job, turning a scum of the earth pedophile into a work of art. He was spread like a starfish, pinned to the wall by his hands and feet with the handy kitchen knives. His chest of course was ripped open, the contents of his organs fallen onto the floor below. Helen's favorite part, the one he deemed to make this a masterpiece, was the removal of the mans genital's. Helen found it very appropriate to cut that off and staple it into the wall beside him.

As Helen admired his masterpiece, he couldn't help but overhear yelling coming from the direction of your house. Normally he would take this as his sign to leave. After all, his work here was done. But then he heard your voice. He was drawn to you like a sailor to a siren. Curiously he peered through the deceased mans curtains, looking over at your house. Your white curtains were closed, but he could make out the shadows of you arguing with a taller man. Helen wasn't a fan of domestic violence. He had witnessed all of that and more during his childhood stay at the psychiatric hospital. During that time he trained himself to stay neutral. To pretend what he was seeing didn't exist. But the pain in your voice intrigued him. Cautiously he slipped out of the mans house, dying for a closer look.

Using the shadows of the night to his advantage he slipped out of the neighbors backyard, hopping the fence. Helen creeped over to the window, peaking inside. That's when he saw you. Your face was red with anger, your eyes widened, and mouth running a thousand miles a minute as you argued with your presumed lover. Helen had never seen anyone like you. With your curves, feisty attitude, and bright eyes. You were something a man could only dream of. He felt himself frown at the sight of your oblivious and angry boyfriend, whose veins were popping out of his head from anger. Helen then made himself a vow, one he took very seriously. He was going to be your guardian angel, whether you knew it or not.

Helen didn't have obsessive tendencies. He had never spent his time stalking someone before. He didn't live at the Slenderman mansion, he wasn't sent on missions or anything absurd. He felt out of place as he studied you, becoming accustomed with your routine. You lived a simple and peaceful life, outside of your toxic relationship. Helen decided to study up on your lover as well, since he seemed to be such a massive issue. His name was Liam. Occupation: unemployed. If Helen had to take a guess he would assume that is why the two of you were arguing. Helen deemed Liam to be a useless slob. One that didn't do much of anything with his time, nevertheless tend to you and your needs. How you ended up with such a useless partner Helen could not figure out.

He enjoyed how modest you were. Your spare time was spent in libraries, curled up in the most secluded corner with a good book. You only ordered from small businesses, even if it meant going out of your way to attend them. All and all you were perfect. Helen thought of all the ways he’d introduce himself to you. Maybe he could run into you at the local book store. Or maybe he’d accidentally brush into you on the street. After all, Trenderman’s mansion was at least four states over from where he was wanted for being a serial killer. Showing his face in public was too much of a risk though, he feared. Especially with the cops now on high patrol in your neighborhood since the murder of your neighbor. If he could go back in time he wished he could’ve seen you first. He would’ve at least changed his victim to someone a few streets over.

The more Helen watched the more he noticed Liam’s violent tendencies. It all came to a screeching halt for Helen once he saw him put his hands on you. Now that. That did numbers on his mind. Who did he think he was? Stomping on such a delicate flower like yourself? If it wasn’t for the patrol car parked outside of your neighbors house he would’ve slit his throat and mutilated him for as long as possible. It took every ounce of self restraint he had to not interfere. The look of despair and sorrow you had written all over your face resonated with Helen more than he would’ve liked to admit. It stayed in his head rent free.

The next day Helen saw the bruises that littered your arms. It was in your character to modestly try to cover them. He expected that of you, even if he didn’t approve. What he hadn’t expected of you, was for your night life to become so social. You previously had proven yourself to be introverted and borderline antisocial. Yet, he watched you through your window as you put in earrings. You were dressed up more than he had ever seen. A tight dress and strappy heels clothed you, his mind going to rancid filth at the sight of your exposed thighs. So Helen did what he thought to be the best course of action: he followed you. This time however, he had different plans.

He planned to finally meet you.

He was surprised your location of choice was the local club, crowded with local college students and overbearingly loud with music. Even as you paced through the door he could sense how uncomfortable you were with the bass booming. Straightening out his collar he trailed behind you, the bouncer not glancing at him twice. He followed you through the never ending sea of swaying bodies, your hips ones that Helen would recognize anywhere. You approached the bar, sliding up on the bar stool like you had done this time and time again. Helen tried to appear casual as he sat beside you, the bartender approaching him. “Whiskey, neat please,” He ordered. You hadn’t glanced in his direction, your fingers aggressively typing against your phone screen. The overworked bar tender looked at you, your gaze not meeting his.

“Ma’am?”

Embarrassed you looked up, eyes widened. It then occurred to Helen why you chose the club. Subtracting the alcohol from the equation, your bruises were practically invisible strobe lights. “I’ll have a sex on the beach, sorry,” You gushed, face flushing with heat. Helen tried to avoid looking at you as to not seem obvious, but it was so hard not to. You were so darling, a ball of nervousness as you sat in a location you felt so out of place in. “Come here often?” Helen finally said, the words escaping his lips faster than he meant them to. Your eyes finally met his, soaking in his blue eyes. They were so striking, even in the inconsistent lighting. You awkwardly laughed, not having expected to indulge in a conversation with someone new. “Who? Me? Pfft, no. Absolutely not,” You rambled, tucking some stray hairs behind your ear. Helen didn’t fail to notice this, giving you a polite smile. “I don’t come here either. I’m Helen, lovely to meet you,” He greeted. He stuck out his hand for you to shake.

You flashed a small genuine smile, before shaking his hand. “Y/n. Nice to meet someone like me. Everyone here seems to know what they’re doing besides us,” You say, side eyeing a group doing body shots at the opposite end of the bar. The bartender set down both of your drinks, nodding before walking off to help another customer. “If you don’t mind me asking, what brings you in?” Helen pried. He sipped his drink, the firey liquid slithering its way down his throat. You slipped the little pink umbrella out of your glass, setting it aside on a napkin. “Just needed to get away from life, you know? I want to feel something absolutely liberating instead of the norm,” You say. Technically you were telling the truth, but you were smart enough to not spill your guts to a stranger. Helen liked that. He liked that you were smart enough to be cautious.

“How about you?” You asked, taking a large gulp of your fruity drink. Helen gave a slight chuckle. “Troubles at work. You know how that goes i’m sure,” He said. He was dancing along side you in the tango of word play. His occupation was untraditional surely, but the cop outside of your house was most certainly a thorn in his side. “Definitely. So do you live around here?” You asked, attempting to stir up conversation. You hadn’t expected to converse with anyone, nevertheless a handsome man. Helen was quick on his feet with an answer. After all, he had prepared conversation topics and answers for all of the different ways he could converse with you. “I’m new to the area actually. Been here about a month. You?” He replied slyly. You nervously pulled your short dress down before setting your drink on the counter. The obnoxious music seemed to be bothering you.

Helen had learned all of your nervous habits. Strike one was pulling down or picking at your clothing. “Dont freak out but I may live next to the murder house,” You replied. Helen raised an eyebrow, now curious. “Murder house?” He asked. Of course, you figured sharing something so frightful to the normal man would be safer rather than lying. Oh how bright you were. “Oh cmon i’m sure you’ve heard. It’s the most talk we’ve had in this town for ages. Creepy old Gary got torn apart by some serial killer,” You explained. Helen was intrigued by what you thought. If things were different he’d ask so much more. Maybe when he got to know you better he’d ask what you thought of his work. “Oh my. Sounds quite brutal,” Helen commented. You nodded, finishing off your drink. Huh. You seemed awfully desperate to get drunk. The bartender approached the two of you again, going to pour you another one.

“Oh no no just one please. Do you guys accept cash?” You rambled. You began digging in your clutch, searching for the crumbled up bills you had shoved in there. Helen knew this to be because of your lack of funds. He suspected Liam had some sort of control over your finances. “Put anything she wants on my tab please,” He intervened. Wide eyed you turned to Helen. “You didn’t have to do that,” You told him. He shrugged and sipped his drink, watching the bar tender deliver your drink before walking away. “The pleasures all mine. A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be paying for her own drinks,” He said truthfully. Your blush may have not been visible because of the lighting, but you best believe Helen knew you were. You couldn't help but feel hopelessly attracted to him. Maybe it was desperation. Or maybe it was nice being treated with respect for once.

The clubs music switched to a different song, one with more bass. Helen noted you nervously glancing over your shoulder, staring at the DJ booth. Strike two was the way your eyes darted around when you were nervous. Helen decided distracting you might be the best course of action. “So, may I ask you on a proper date? What fun activities are there to do around here?” He asked. You became incredibly flustered, the sight definitely one for sore eyes. “There’s an art museum down the street. It’s the only gallery I haven’t seen in this town,” You suggested. Oh how little did you know that suggestion secured your fate and locked it in place. Helen then had mentally deemed you to be his perfect match. You both would make a delightful pair.

“Thats a splendid idea. Truthfully I adore the arts,” Helen answered. It was then you delivered the third strike, the biting of the inside of your cheek. Helen wasn’t quite sure what set you off, but the room was overstimulating to say the very least. “How about we take this party elsewhere? Your place perhaps?” Helen asked. He knew that wasn’t possible, but curiosity lingered about what your answer would be. “Oh um, no mine it’s very unorganized right now. What about yours?” You asked. You were now gnawing on the inside of your cheek. Oh dear, had you developed a new habit? “I have the most obnoxious roommate. Here, take my hand,” He proposed, setting a neat pile of bills on the counter. Your soft hand took his, the painter leading you through the crowds of people. Truthfully he was searching for more of a supply closet, something more secluded and private. But he supposed an unoccupied handicapped restroom would do. “I apologize for the lack of cleanliness that’s surrounds us, but your well being is more important,” Helen said, locking the door.

It wasn’t terribly filthy, but he much rather would’ve taken you somewhere nicer. “Helen I- I must be honest, I have-” You began. He knew where this was going. And if he was being truthful with himself he did not want to discuss Liam at your first meeting. So instead, he decided an alternative. “I apologize if this is a little too straight forward,” He said abruptly. Helen towered over you, cupping your cheeks before planting your lips against his. His lips were soft and warm, the faintest taste of whiskey still lingering. You melted into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. Stumbling you fell back against the wall, your head spinning. “You are so beautiful and you deserve to be treated as so. May I show you how beautiful you are?” He asked. You nodded profusely, watching him drop to his knees. His slender fingers pulled up your dress, revealing your lacey black panties. Helen couldn’t help but feel like you had worn them for him.

It only made his cock harder as he pushed them to the side. Your slick was already wet, your folds begging for attention. “This wet already? You poor thing, does no one tend to your needs?” He asked, a hint of taunting lacing his tone. You were desperate, the double meaning of his words flying over your head. “N-no, please, please touch me,” You whined. Who was Helen to deny you of that? He licked a stripe up your cunt, sending a shudder down your spine. You grabbed onto his jet black locs for support as his large hands settled onto your thighs. He lapped at your cunt like a starved man, devouring every drop of juice your body was producing. His eagerness to please you only made you wetter. Truthfully you couldn’t recall the last time Liam had ever done foreplay with you. Your moans were loud and shameless, the clubs music overpowering the sounds anyways. You grinded against his face, whining as you approached your high. His lips attached to your clit, sucking at the sensitive bud harshly. His ocean eyes watched your facial expressions intently.

You were like a divine art piece that came to life.

Helen kept your thighs apart as they trembled, his name falling off of your lips as you came on his face. Shamelessly he lapped all of the juices away, licking you until he deemed you clean. You went to drop to your knees to return the favor, Helen stopping you. “A lady such as yourself does not belong on this filthy floor. Where you do belong, is with my fingers buried in your cunt until I make you cum again,” He said. Your head was spinning as he picked you up, setting you on the sink. He nudged his way between your thighs, plunging two fingers into your eager cunt. “Oh my- fuck- holy shit,” You whined, tilting your head back. Helen curled his fingers inside of you, your gummy walls clinging to him. “Such a tight cunt, what a masterpiece,” He praised, licking his lips. He began to curl his fingers faster, placing sloppy and uncoordinated kisses onto your neck. “D-don’t leave marks,” You pleaded in between pants. Helen knew why, but agreed to your request.

“I would never mark such a beautiful masterpiece my love,” He agreed, his voice hoarse. He pulled down your dress, exposing your breast. He was pleased at your lack of a bra. With one hand he toyed with your nipple, the other abusing your g spot as it pleased. “Feels so good Helen, you make me feel so good,” You whimpered, pawing at his button up. You grabbed handfuls of the fabric, Helen more amused than anything else. How long had it been since someone had truly pleasured you? He concluded it must’ve been an entirety, based on the way he could feel your second orgasm coming. “Someone close again? Wanna make a mess on my fingers?” Helen asked, a sly grin dancing across his lips. You managed to meet his gaze, your mouth fallen open in the shape of an O. “So close, wanna cum for you,” You whined. Helen twisted your nipple painfully, triggering your second orgasm. You didn’t have time to process it, your vision going white as you creamed around his fingers.

Helen enjoyed watching you ride out your high, your body convulsing as you experienced euphoria. He removed his fingers from your cunt, licking them clean. “You taste divine my love,” He praised. You gave him a dazed smile, hopping off of the sink. Helen guided you to turn around, studying the mounds of your ass as he pulled your dress up to your waist. “Such a gorgeous body. Truly a walking goddess,” He mumbled, undoing his belt. It wasn’t long before you felt him rub his tip up and down your slick, earning desperate moans from you. You gripped the sink as he began to push inside of you. Your face told Helen everything. That truthfully Liam was no whereas big as him or as coordinated. That you had not had a good fuck in a longtime. Your body was the snitch to everything you were attempting to hide. Helen was quick to bottom out, your gummy walls clinging to him. “You’re so perfect,” He grunted, beginning to pick up the pace. Helen thrust were slow and powerful, each one hitting your g spot just right.

It was like he knew what your body needed, your sounds sinful and pure filth as he rammed into you. Your cunt told him everything he needed to know, the sound of his name falling off of your lips one he wanted to hear forever. He relentlessly snapped his hips into yours, your orgasm growing closer and closer as he fucked you. “I’m going to make you mine my love, my perfect masterpiece,” Helen huffed, his slender fingers digging into your hips. You babbled an agreement, your mind too far gone. Helen slithered one of his hands down to your clit, drawing fast circles. You stood upwards, your back colliding with his chest as you felt yourself coming closer to your final orgasm. “Thats it, cum for me. Make a mess on my cock,” He praised, his breath hot against your ear. His name rang off of the bathroom walls as you creamed on his shaft, your orgasm triggering his own. Helen was quick to pull out of you, bending you over and cumming on your ass.

He watched his white seed paint your skin, creating a beautiful work of art.

Your fate was sealed, you were to spend entirety as his canvas.

#creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta x female reader #creepypasta x you #creepypasta lemon #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta smut #creepypasta #bloody painter #the bloody painter #helen otis #helen otis smut #helen otis x reader #helen otis x you #bloody painter smut #the bloody painter smut #bloody painter x reader #bloody painter x judge angels #bloody painter x puppeteer

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benkeibear · 5 months ago

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『 Carving pumpkins 』

☼ synopsis: Just an afternoon date where you carve pumpkins together.

☼ characters: various jjk men

☼ wc: 0.8k

☼ notes: Just a smol something before Kinktober starts 🫶

Toji doesn't understand why there's pumpkins in the kitchen alongside knives and pictures of silly motives. He thinks it's silly that you'd want to carve pumpkins since that's for children but he has a lot of fun during your date since he's skilled with the knife and amazing at cutting out the designs you draw on. Toji is all soft smiles the entire time, enjoying how happy you seem.

Gojo was the one to bring home the pumpkins, taking you by surprise but then again, it's Gojo. He's never carved pumpkins before but you talked to him about it before and he figured it could be a fun date. His pumpkins look awful, horrendous even and one crumbled in itself from the sheer lack of carving talent but you two have too much fun to care, building a small pumpkin army.

Geto liked the idea of carving pumpkins with you and it's actually super comfortable. He made sure to cover the dinner table with newspapers for a less messy afternoon. His artistic skill kind of surprised you and he drew the cutest and most beautiful designs onto the orange bulbs. It was almost more fun to just watch him completely concentrate as he gently carved the pumpkins into your favorite ghibli character.

Nanami at first thought it's too messy but when he saw those glorious pumpkins at the grocery store he smiled to himself as he thought about how happy you'd be over the surprise. He only took two of them - but he was right. You were over the moon that you got to do this iconic fall activity with him, the pumpkin insides in his hair afterwards were so worth it. He mostly helped you empty them, leaving the actual fun part to you. Just seeing you happy was more than enough to him.

Yuuta and you had the same idea without telling each other. Imagine the surprise at all the pumpkins that suddenly crowded the kitchen? Granted, he was a little concerned about what to do with all of them but you had so many ideas that your neighbors sure would be jealous by how cute your front door will be decorated. You two spent the entire afternoon passing pumpkins back and forth, making them all together.

Choso didn't understand why it should be fun to play with food like that but he couldn't say no to your pout so he gave it a chance. Seeing you handle the knife so skillfully surprised and concerned him at the same time but he was a natural at this. He carved the cutest little design as his brows knitted together and his tongue stuck out ever so slightly. Choso was so focused on making sure everything went smoothly and slowly understood just why you wanted to do this with him.

Sukuna thought it was a childish idea and outright refused but he knew he couldn't stop you. When you came home with an army full of tiny pumpkins he had to stifle a laugh because you couldn't find the real big ones but it was entertaining to watch you draw on designs... and perhaps he carved one scary looking one too while you didnt look. It was impressive how good and unsettling it looked when you lit a candle in it and it fed his ego so well, he offered to make more, only for you of course.

Mahito pouted when you didn't allow him to use real human heads as decoration because that would be so much funnier and real as decoration. So he made it his mission to carve the scariest one he can muster. To absolutely no one's surprise, he made a little competition out of it but it was all fun and games, trying to make a better design than the other. However, Mahito won without doubt after using what felt like five million toothpicks to create the pumpkin of your nightmares.

Yuuji was so excited to spend the afternoon with you like this, trying to convince you to leave the carving to him. It's not like he didn't trust you with the knife but he didnt want you to accidentally cut your finger. His Pumpkins looked super silly but he tried his best, pouting a little when he saw just how good yours looked in comparison but when you move to sit on his lap to make the last one together the world was okay again and Yuuji had so much fun.

Megumi really didn't want to do this. Not with you, not with anyone and he thought that no one could talk him into it either. But you looked genuinely upset since you planned this date so he agreed to carve one single pumpkin. It was the smallest, tiniest face on a huge pumpkin and it honestly looked so silly. Just a little D: face but you kissed his cheek as you placed the candle inside the orange bulb, thanking him for doing this with you... Perhaps next year he would help you make a proper one.

Networks: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @houseofsolisoccasum

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maskedbyghost · 5 months ago

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Simon Riley:

is surprisingly good at sewing. whether it’s patching up his gear or clothes, he learned to be self-sufficient over the years.

doesn’t sleep much and prefers staying up late. he’s always more focused during the night and feels more at ease in the dark. but ever since you moved in with him, he gets a few good hours of sleep with you on top of him as his favorite weighted blanket.

owns very few personal belongings. most of his space is neatly organized with just the essentials. he doesn't like clutter. still, he doesn't mind your obsession with coffee mugs, he's the one that gets them for you now anyway.

is great at chess and strategy games. when off duty, he occasionally plays with other soldiers but rarely loses. (he let you win once, but only bc you kept using your puppy eyes on him.)

avoids all forms of social media. he doesn’t understand why people want to post their lives online, and he values his privacy too much. he has an ig account, a fake one, just so he can look at your profile when he's away on a long mission.

sometimes sketches in his free time, mostly landscapes or tactical designs, using it as a quiet hobby. no one really knows about it, until you find a sketchbook filled with drawings of yourself. you never mention it to him, especially that one page with an engagement ring he sketched out with your exact measurements right next to it.

is surprisingly good in the kitchen, particularly when it comes to simple, hearty meals. he doesn’t cook often, but when he does, you are always impressed.

his guns and knives are always clean. it's part of his routine, and he finds the process of maintaining them therapeutic.

is awkward when it comes to casual conversations. he’s more comfortable giving orders or discussing tactical plans than engaging in chit-chat. that is why it took you so long to realize that he likes you. thankfully, you love talking and he likes to listen, so it all worked out.

is extremely protective of you, often worrying about your safety. if you’re in danger, his usually calm demeanor fades, and he becomes hyper-focused on ensuring you’re safe.

pays close attention to your habits and needs. he’ll notice when you're feeling down or when something is wrong, even if you don’t say it, and he’ll do whatever he can to fix it or offer comfort.

(if you have any requests pls do submit them, that's it byeee)

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost fluff #simon riley cod #ghost cod #call of duty ghost #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2

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lostinlovingrevery · 16 days ago

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Easy Living

Worst! Wolverine X F! Reader

A/N: I was giggling like a fool writing this. Put a stop to the circle of violence!!! Give him love! Give him security!! Also based off the song Easy Living by Ella Fitzgerald!

Plot: It's easy living with you

Warnings: None, this is pure teeth rotting fluff

Word Count: 832

Living for you is easy living

It's easy to live when you're in love

And I'm so in love

There's nothing in life but you

Logan's eyes cracked open at the sound of the soft music playing in some other part of the apartment. He looked over to your side of the bed, it was empty, but he could still feel the warmth of you. He sat up, his tired muscles complaining at the movement, but he pushed through.

He shoved the comforter off, his feet making contact to the cold hardwood floor. He adjusted his sweatpants that sat low on his hips and slowly lumbered to the kitchen, moving through the small apartment as he passed picture frames hung on the walls. Pictures filled with him, Wade, Laura, you, and all your other friends. He sleepily scratched his stomach, a small yawn escaped him.

I’ll never regret the things I'm giving

They're easy to give when you're in love

I'm happy to do whatever I do for you

He walked into the threshold of your kitchen. He smiled warmly at the sight of you. Your back was turned, your attention towards the oven, where he could smell the scent of bacon and eggs cooking. Next to the oven on the counter was a plate of blueberry and chocolate waffles, already made and waiting.

Sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, highlighting your figure in the small kitchen. A few messy dishes sat in the sink. Plates with knives and forks set atop them on the table in the corner. A carton of orange juice sat on the counter, next to two mugs, and paper towels soaked next to them, a few droplets of the juice sat on the counter.

Your hair pulled up in a messy bun, and you were adorning one of his t-shirts, a Led Zeppelin shirt you gifted him- yet ended up stealing and wearing it when you go to bed anyway. The sound of sizzling bacon mixed with the old jazz song playing in the background. Ella Fitzgerald - Your favorite. Your hips rocked back and forth languidly to the song, he could hear your quiet hums.

For you maybe I'm a fool, but it's fun

People say you rule me with one wave of your hand

Darling, it's grand; they just don't understand

He came up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist, as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. You lifted your head up to look at him and smiled,

“Hi Lo.”

“Hey bub.” He hummed. “You snuck out of bed.”

A small giggle escaped you. “I wanted to make you breakfast in bed.” you inform him, as your hand grabbed the spatula to flip the slices of turkey bacon on the pan. He rested his chin on your shoulder, observing the food that you have been putting together - for him.

How’d he get here?

Living for you is easy living

It's easy to live when you're in love

And I'm so in love

There's nothing in life but you

He pressed another soft kiss to your cheek, the coarse hair of his beard tickled your cheek, making you giggle as you turned your head away from him. Noticing your reaction, he pursued, attempting to scratch his beard over your cheek and down to your neck, making you erupt into a fit of giggles as you tried to push him away.

“Lo! Stop that tickles!” You shrieked, but his arms tightened around your waist, and he began to attack your neck and jaw with kisses and gentle love bites. You hummed, arms settling over his as he laid down his love over you.

You reached over, flipping the burner for the eggs and bacon off.

For you maybe I'm a fool, but it's fun

People say you rule me with one wave of your hand

Darling, it's grand; they just don't understand

“Dance with me Lo.” You say, pulling away from his arms, and grabbing his hands, pulling him to the center of the kitchen. He smiled warmly, accepting your invitation. Anyone else and he would have said no - he could never say no to you though.

You pressed your body against him; his arm going around your waist, your arm wrapped around him, your hand pressed against his back as your other hands clasp together, held up beside your heads. He looked down at you, eyes filled with fondness and affection for you.

Your bodies slowly rocked back and forth in the kitchen, looking into each others eyes. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a soft kiss, that you deepened as you leaned up to your tiptoes, eager to be closer to him.

“Who knew the Wolverine could become so domestic?” You whispered to him after parting from his lips.

“For you? It’s easy living.” He responds warmly.

Living for you is easy living

It's easy to live when you're in love

And I'm so in love

There's nothing in life but you

#this shit got me giggling and squirming like a fool #i can't even #logan howlett #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett fic #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #vans daydreams #logan howlett fluff #wolverine fluff #worst! wolverine #worst wolverine #worst!wolverine x reader #channeled my inner fallout with this

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shadamyheadcanons · 13 days ago

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Headcanon #309

A Sonic-themed café recently opened in Taiwan, and they have cute little designs for the characters! Shadow and Amy both work in the kitchen:

Sonic and friends worked at a café for a while. Shadow and Amy were both assigned to the kitchen; with Shadow’s precision with ingredients and procedures and Amy’s experience and leadership, they made a fantastic team. As time went on, Shadow grew fonder of Amy, but he kept his feelings in check.

Or at least he did until the day Amy filled in for Blaze as a server. He stepped in the door for his shift, took one look at her...and immediately dropped his apron on the floor.

As much as Amy loved cooking, she’d been hoping for an opportunity to try waitressing and had prepared a unique outfit for the occasion. Amy wore a cute, black, 1950s-style dress with pink bows and tiny white polka dots. The skirt had enough breathing room to flow when she twirled around, and it was cut just above the knee. She’d tied her quills up in a style reminiscent of Rosie the Riveter to keep them out of her face. Finally, she donned a pair of spiffy red roller skates so she could glide effortlessly around on the tile floors as she took orders.

When Amy saw Shadow, she happily skated over and posed for him with a brilliant smile, saying she’d always loved the aesthetic of the 1940s and 50s and thought he would know better than anyone if she’d gotten it right.

Shadow’s throat went dry.

One of the scientists aboard the ARK had decorated his walls with a collection of pinup posters. Amy’s outfit looked strikingly similar to one of them. It had featured...Rita Hayworth? Betty Grable, maybe...? Whichever one it was, her pose had been far more provocative than Amy’s. Shadow had always found the collection to be tasteless, and the way the scientist talked about the model’s legs was crass and unpleasant. Shadow liked to think he was above such things.

Apparently, though, the game changed when a hedgehog was dressed that way instead, especially his favorite hedgehog.

Shadow gulped loudly and nodded, not trusting his voice. Amy practically jumped for joy and skated off to take more orders.

Cooking was a struggle. Shadow always worked by the gap connecting the kitchen to the dining room, which proved to be a blessing and a curse as Amy slid around the restaurant, elated at the activity and her new outfit. He constantly fumbled with tongs and knives while he shifted ingredients and chopped vegetables, and his healing factor came in handy when he accidentally splashed hot oil on himself. Knuckles kept a suspicious glare on him from the other side of the kitchen, and Silver asked him if he was alright a couple times while preparing drinks.

Whenever Amy popped over to pick up food, she gushed about how much fun it was and how generous customers were with their tips. Shadow privately thought it had less to do with generosity and more to do with Amy’s figure and the flashy getup clinging to it; he’d noticed he wasn’t the only one who was drooling over her.

The rest of his shift passed with disaster after disaster as he couldn’t help but admire the way Amy proudly flitted around, smiling brightly as she showed off the roller skating techniques he’d personally taught her. Knuckles chewed him out for letting himself get distracted, and Shadow couldn’t argue, nor could he stop his gaze from straying back to the cute, cheerful object of his affections.

The manager had planned on putting Amy back on kitchen duty after that day, but as it was now apparent she was their best chef AND their best server, Amy was scheduled to switch off between the two from then on. She was thrilled.

By the end of his shift, Shadow had burned nine meals, and he’d never felt like more of a hypocrite.

#shadamy #amy rose #shadow the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #hc

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gremlingottoosilly · 10 months ago

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Love the anon who asked the loser König and perfect wifey ask, gave me some brain worms for that. Imagine if she's also like really into the actual wifey stuff too. Like he forgets to lock the basement one day(or wifey knows how to lockpick) and he comes home to like everything cleaned and tidied up. She's sitting there with dinner and an anime on like 'oh hey, you were gone so long I got bored so yeah, I also really want you to fuck me in the tactical gear I found in your room btw.'

You have been literally cleaning up his guns while he was getting home. You know, the guns that you shouldn't have even held because what if you'd try to shoot him and escape and even if you don't know how to use it properly, you could fire it on accident and hurt yourself and...there are too many possibilities and, honestly, he doesn't even want you to see those guns and gear and... You're cleaning it up and putting it nicely around the bed. When he asks you what the hell you are doing, he is ready to tackle you like an enemy. He asks how you got out of the basement, and you tell him you just knew a bit about locks. There is his favorite anime playing in the background, and he is pretty sure he can smell something nice and meaty cooking in the oven - so you go to the living room and the kitchen. With knives and with spare pair of keys lying around, and with windows that could give you an opportunity to run...but you didn't. Which is insane. He asks why do you have his gun on your lap, and why you're cleaning it...with a tissue. A normal tissue. Why you're not even attempting to shoot him...and you ask if he could fuck you with his gun. Just a little bit, maybe half a barrel in your pussy because you were reading about it in the romance novels and you always wanted to try it, but all of his guns are huge, and only a pistol is kinda small, compared to his cock, so you've been trying to stretch yourself, but your fingers aren't enough, and you missed him too much, and you also cooked dinner and put Bocchi the Rock, and... Konig thinks he should kill you. Konig thinks he should marry you.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #yandere cod

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drytacomeat · 8 months ago

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𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐎𝐧 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐦

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧! 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐱 𝐟em!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞: 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬, 𝐦𝐱𝐦, 𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟 (𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐡

(first smut, nervy smh) didn’t proofread tbh

Enjoy!

You, Eddie, and Steve had all been relatively close for a while. You and Eddie were childhood friends because you both were considered the weird kids growing up. You were the “fat” kid, and he was just “weird.” You enjoyed his company though, and you never figured he was weird by any means.

He was the sweetest boy you knew, the sweetest boy you would ever want to know. You were sure you were in love with him. You were almost sure that Eddie might have loved you too, that was until Steve Harrington came along and really confused you.

You knew that Steve and Eddie were…acquaintances. He used to be the Hawkins high school’s drug dealer, and jocks loved getting high off of shit they couldn’t even name. Steve was one of them. You always noticed how Steve failed to pick on Eddie or you for that matter, despite his friends giving you both near hell. He’d just watch from the sidelines with a grimace on his face, or he’d pretend not to be watching. It was weird you always thought.

The weirder part however was how much the two hung out now.

You often found the two getting high out of their minds in Eddie’s living room on nights that you had sat aside for premium movie watching…for just you and Eddie.

You remembered the first night where Eddie pulled you aside and almost begged you to let him stay.

“You won’t even notice he’s here.”

And you didn’t, not really.

Steve was very polite, overly polite even. He felt out of place between you and Eddie, and he didn’t want you to dislike him.

He immediately offered any snack Eddie handed to him to you, he let you pick the movie on his nights to pick, he let you get the majority of the blanket you three would share, and he would even let you dose off on his shoulder if you hadn’t leaned on Eddie already in your consciousness.

Steve was so nice, so so very nice. It was impossible for you to not end up liking him. He was so sweet to Eddie as well. He never really judged him for anything he liked, sure he would joke about him being a loser and such, but he never judged.

He would watch Eddie practice guitar as you sat at his desk doodling something. He even helped him paint his DND figurines once. Though they sometimes bickered like children, they appeared to be the best of friends now.

Steve was also great with keeping up with both you and Eddie’s interests. You mentioned to him once that you wish there was a way to enjoy sweets without all the sugar, and he baked you a batch of sugar free cookies.

He and Eddie ended up eating most of them after getting the munchies that night he brought them to you, but he made you another batch the next day.

He knew your favorite genres of movies and would bring over movies he thought you would like on nights where it was his turn to pick. He also brought over any new horror movie to make it to the store for Eddie.

He was just so thoughtful.

He knew how much you loved to care for others. He would often have Eddie to lay on your lap with him so you could stroke both of their hair.

Whenever you caught glimpse of either one of them looking up at you, your stomach churned.

They liked you showing them the extra care, and you loved it. They would call you out whenever you were being seemingly too caring as well.

“Don’t worry, mommy. It’s just a cut. I don’t need to be put on bed rest for it,” Steve teased after you had been almost panicking over him slicing his finger with the very sharp, very expensive kitchen knives Eddie so suddenly could afford.

The nickname made your cunt tingle in all honesty.

He began to call you that more, and Eddie joined in being the bothersome little shit he was.

So this had you stuck.

You knew you loved Eddie, but now you think you might love Steve too. You also thought Eddie loved Steve, and you were no competition to the either of them.

Eddie was beautiful and unique, and Steve was hot and caring. You just felt like neither of them would want you when they could have each other, so you began to step away from them subconsciously.

It had became easier when all of a sudden Eddie was able to buy himself his own apartment. It had 3 bedrooms, and you wondered how the fuck he was able to do that, or what he needed all the extra rooms for. You hardly ever spent the night.

You shortly found out that Steve had been cut off from his family and that he was moving in with Eddie. That explained why he got all the extra rooms, but it did not explain where he got the money.

However, this did seal the deal on what you thought your chances with either of them were. You decided it would just be easier for you if you distanced yourself from them.

It would hurt you less.

They didn’t pry at first, figured you were busy working or hanging out with other friends. After about a week of you not calling either of them, they were blowing up your phone and stopping by nonstop.

You sent them away explaining you were sick. That would buy you at least another week.

In reality, you had just been sitting home all day after your draining work shifts.

•

The day had been particularly shitty, and you decided that relieving some stress couldn’t hurt.

You really weren’t into hearing over exaggerated porno moans, so you opened the live stream portion of the only cite you even knew to go to for…special videos.

Nothing on the front page peaked your interest, but as soon as you switched to the second page, “Subby Boys Want to be Obedient for You” showed up under the user TheHairandDaredevil69. You chuckled at the user a bit before you decided to click on the live stream.

You enjoyed submissive men more than you probably should have, so you were quick to get comfortable as the screen loaded.

As soon as the loading screen went away, you nearly fell out of your bed at who came up on the screen.

You had to squint a bit to make sure your eyes were not playing tricks on you. The distinct tattoos and perfectly styled hair of the boys set into stone what you were seeing, though.

It was Eddie and Steve laid on what appeared to be at least a queen sized bed making out.

Steve wore nothing but some pink, silky boy shorts and white socks while Eddie was bare and stroking his own dick as Steve tweaked at his nipples.

His dick was pretty. It was bright pink at the tip, unruly dark curls matching those on his head, and it was not too big. You imagined how good it would feel inside your pussy and your mouth.

You couldn’t help but get turned on. I mean, here were the two boys you adored making out on camera right before your eyes.

You began to put together that this is probably where Eddie got the fucking money for an apartment.

He was very well…endowed, and you were very curious to see what Steve looked like under his underwear.

After a while, Steve took over for Eddie, now stroking him at a pace a bit slower. He looked towards the camera, and it felt as though he was looking directly into your soul.

“Want us to do more, huh? C’mon baby, just tell us. We’ll do anything for you, please,” he pleaded with the camera.

You could feel your pupils dilate as you let out a silent “fuck.” You brought your hands down to your panties. You could feel the moisture seeping through the already thin material.

MommyDomming1985: Fuck yeah, speed up a bit!

Bigboyboning: Fuck you two are hot!

HopperJ19: Looking for a third?

You circled over your clit as they continued their endeavors on live stream for 1,000 people to see. You would applaud them under normal circumstances.

As you began to add pressure to your clothed clit, Eddie moved Steve’s hand from his throbbing dick.

Your brows furrowed until he began to pull Steve on top of him.

“Hop on up, honey,” he smirked arrogantly.

You liked that he didn’t hide his character in his sexual streams.

Steve rolled his eyes as he was pulled to be seated onto Eddie’s lap.

Eddie pulled him into a feverish kiss. He brought his hands down to his hips and began to rock the boy against him.

“Aw fuck it,” you groaned and yanked your soaked panties halfway down your legs.

You attacked your clit in unorganized circles as you watched Eddie begin to roughly grind Steve down onto his front because you truly did not know if you wanted to be the one grinding Steve onto you or grinding yourself on Eddie’s hard dick.

“Wanna show ‘em baby? Wanna show ‘em what you got hiding away in that hot little ass, hm?” he snarled as he moved his hands down to grab at Steve’s ass.

Steve nodded urgently, as he went to place hot, wet kisses onto Eddie’s neck.

You couldn’t help the slight moans coming from your mouth as you sped up your own motions.

You wondered what Eddie meant by that. You never took Steve to be the type to like to play in his butt. You were wrong about a lot of things today, though.

Eddie maneuvered him over so he was bent over more, ass sticking farther out. He gave his ass a firm squeeze before pulling the boys underwear just underneath the fat of his cheeks. He fondled it, causing Steve to moan whorishly.

“Look at that ass,” Eddie groaned as he bit his lip. “Gonna show everybody.”

Eddie pulled the boys cheeks apart to reveal the jeweled plug nestled into his pink little hole.

He jiggled his cheeks as he held him open, and you couldn’t help but notice how the plug was particularly your favorite color.

Surely, it couldn’t be intentional you reasoned. They probably never would have expected you to find them. They definitely did not want you to.

Still, the scene was so hot that you brought your fingers down to the source of your leaking arousal. You dipped one finger into your sopping hole and let out a long, gutural moan.

“Wanna fuck him, mommy? Bet you want to fuck that ass, huh? Get a big strap just for him. Maybe stick a vibe in there. Watch him squirm around,” he growled, “You’d like that huh, baby?”

Your eyes widened immediately.

Mommy?

That’s what they both called you in tandem. Hell, they rarely even called you by your real name anymore. You thought it was innocent, teasing maybe.

Maybe you were wrong about that too.

He slapped Steve’s left asscheek, “Slut.”

ReadyToTop_.: fuck yeah, would love to see how he stretches.

Girlygirlfuntime: The way you say mommy gets me wet

Iddoit420: I’d do it.

Steve mewled but sat up too. He yanked Eddie back by his hair and stared intently into his eyes. “You’re a slut too, right? All it takes is someone messing with your hair and your big dumb cock is throbbing. Tell em, tell them that you’re a slut.”

Eddie looked directly into the camera as you inserted a second finger into your soaked cunt.

“Fuck yeah, ‘m a slut,” he smirked, “slut for you mommy.”

His sly grin nearly made you cum, but you knew the clarity and guilt would hit immediately, so you held off.

“Wish you were here mommy, put this little bitch in his place,” Steve groaned as he yanked on Eddie’s curls again, then leaned down to place a hot kiss onto his lips.

“Fuck want my fingers, baby?” Eddie asked once he pulled away. He groped Steve’s cheeks more before he looked directly into the camera. “Wanna see me finger that tight ass, mommy?”

The chat exploded as you found yourself subconsciously nodding.

MommyDomming1985: yeah! stretch him out for cock.

Callme_mast3r: fuck yes! bet he’d like it

Sadaddict69: sluts

Eddie slapped Steve’s ass causing him to let out a high pitched moan.

He bent Steve over again so that his head was laid on top of the pillows behind him, ass in the air.

He spread his cheeks with his large hands as he bit his bottom lip and looked up into the camera.

“Look at that boy cunt, mommy,” he groaned and jiggled the right cheek.

He grazed his fingernails over the plug before yanking Steve’s knees apart. He grazed over his balls and down towards the hem of the underwear resting underneath the boy’s butt.

He slowly rolled them down to Steve’s knees, much like how yours were settle on your legs

Now, Steve was fucking hung.

Even from this angle, you could tell he was packing.

His dick was an angry red color, probably from being tucked away this whole time. Poor baby.

Eddie ran his fingers over the boys cock, causing him to whimper. His fingers played with the tip as he marveled at Steve’s backside.

“He’s wet like a girl, mommy. Isn’t that hot?” Eddie grinned.

“Oh, fuck off,” Steve retaliated, and you grinned. They still bickered even in scene.

“Here, since you wanna be fucking bratty,” Eddie trailed off before he reached for something out of view.

Hell, you didn’t know what it would be, and that turned you on so much. You haven’t even seen the inside of their new apartment yet.

He pulled out what appeared to be a flesh light.

“No fucking way,” you whispered. When did he get that? How did he hide his seemingly vast collection of toys?

“Yeah, gonna slide that useless cock right in there f’me,” Eddie licked his lips as he took the cap off of it and placed it underneath Steve’s now quivering body.

He retrieved a bottle of lube from off screen and squirted a vast amount into the hole of the flashlight.

Steve wriggled his hips in anticipation, and you could see the fat of his ass jiggle slightly. You had to thank the years of adolescent sports for blessing this man with such an ass. You wanted to bite into it so bad.

“Yeah, slide that pretty cock in there, big boy. Just like that,” Eddie groaned as he watched Steve sink into it.

You pulled your tits out of your bra and removed the covers as you placed your laptop down onto your bed beside you so that you could reach deeper into your sloppy cunt.

“Aw shit,” you moaned as you heard yourself squelching messily.

“Fuck! So wet!” Steve shouted. Eddie placed a peck onto one of his many back moles. You wish you were there to kiss the rest.

“I know, honey. I know, but you better not move. You better not move until I get my fingers in this tight, pink pussy,” he commanded before slapping Steve’s ass again. This time his whimpers could be very clearly heard.

M4sterbro700: wow look at that hole!

Ihatem3n: beautiful!

Average.girl7: wow, nice ass

Eddie moved his focus back to the boy’s plugged hole. He tapped on the end of the plug, jiggled and tugged, rendering Steve impatient.

“Just get your fingers in me before I fucking do it myself!” he shrieked. Eddie’s jaw hung open.

“Feisty, baby. You need some patience. Maybe you’re the one who needs mommy to put you in your place, huh?”

Steve just nodded into the pillows. His hair bobbing messily.

The comments were begging Eddie to pull the plug out.

“Should I cut him some slack, guys?”

MommyDomming1985: yeah, wanna see that hole open

HopperJ19: yes

herforfn: yesssss please!

“Got lucky today, baby boy,” Eddie chuckled. He wrapped his fingers around the base of the plug. He tugged once, twice, thrice before the whole thing finally popped out of Steve’s butt.

His hole gaped from the sudden emptiness, and Eddie was quick to hold it open before it could wink close.

“Fuck, would you look at that? Wish I could shove my cock in there. Fuck, not tonight though,” he tsked.

You wondered why.

You couldn’t believe how much you actually wanted to see that, how hot that would be. Eddie fucking into Steve would make an excellent sight.

Eddie dipped down to lick a quick stripe over Steve’s puffy and now red hole.

“Mm, bet you wish you could taste him, mommy? Taste me too? Fuck,” he smiled as he reached for the lube bottle.

He warmed the lubricant up between his fingers before making his way towards Steve’s hole. He circled the puffy rim before finally dipping his fingers into him.

“Hngh!” Steve moaned.

“Fuck, look at that,” Eddie said towards the camera as he slowly moved his finger in and out of the squirming boy. “Yeah, you can start moving, baby. Know you wanna fuck that toy. You’re so desperate for it, huh?”

“Yea-yes. S-so desperate!”

Eddie switched hands quickly, Steve didn’t seem to notice as he was fucking his hips down into the flesh light.

He leaned on back as he lazily fucked his two fingers in Steve’s ass. He began to steadily stroke his cock as he read the chat.

HopperJ19: bet he looks so pretty cumming

Gayrainbowkitt34: need more ass shots please!

Iwillmakeyoumine21: you look so hot stroking and fucking him!

“Fuck,” he sighed as he sped up his ministrations on his cock. You always knew Eddie was quite dexterous.

He pulled his right hand from his cock and pulled Steve into a hot, rushed kiss.

The kiss was beyond sloppy. You could see it was all teeth, tongue, and spit. Eddie pulled them apart to lick over Steve’s lips before placing a small peck on them. He maneuvered him to lay back down onto the pillows before he reached his right hand down to help the boy move faster into the toy.

“Aw. I bet you wish that was mommy’s pussy, huh? You wish it was mommy’s pussy baby? Her hot, fat cunt choking your slutty little cock? I know, honey, but you need to tell her. Tell mommy how much you wish it was her that you were fucking,” Eddie egged on as bounced Steve’s ass into the toy.

“Mommy, please! Pl-fuck! Please, need it. Need your pussy. Want you to fuck me up! Wan’ it, wan’ it! More, more baby please!” Steve near yelled.

You brought your other hand to your clit to rub it in sloppy circular motions as you fucked your cunt with three fingers now.

“Fuck yeah, baby. Fuck mommy’s pussy,” you found yourself moaning along.

Eddie focused back on his cock, pumping it quickly. Sweat was glistening on his forehead, and his hair was bouncing with the movements of his own hand and Steve’s rapid humps back onto Eddie’s fingers and into the toy.

“Can I cum, mommy? Can I please fucking cum?” Eddie sighed, his dominance put to the side, “Ask her, baby. Ask mommy can you come.”

Steve moved so that both of his hands could hold onto the body of the flesh light so that he could piston into it hard, ass jiggling.

“Mommy please!” he moaned girlishly, before letting out a string of “uh-uh-uh”s.

“Cum baby, fucking cum for mommy,” you replied as though they could hear you.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum!” Steve chanted. His pitch only getting higher as he got closer and closer to orgasm. Eddie’s fingers were barely following any pattern as he was jerking his dick at the speed of light.

“Fuck, cumming!” Eddie grunted out as the creamy white splashed onto his stomach, chest, and fingers. Steve had jerked harshly into the toy at the sound of Eddie’s grunts, his ass jiggling harshly one last time.

You screwed your eyes shut as you focused on your own orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you let out as your body clenched, and you came. You continued to slowly stroke your fingers into your cunt to push yourself through it.

As you were coming down, Eddie had flipped Steve over onto his back, popping the fleshlight off of his cock.

He brushed Steve’s hair out of his face sweetly before placing a gentle kiss onto his lips.

“Look at that little cream pie,” he smiled as he showed the cum leaking out of the flesh light. Steve shoved him a little before sitting up and pulling his pink underwear back up.

Your chest heaved as you began to gain consciousness again.

“Alright, guys. Sorry we have to go so soon, but me and the Hair here have other things to attend to. We’re busy boys, hm?” he smiled towards Steve.

“Yeah. See you next time, mommy. Maybe you’ll join us.”

With that, you slammed your laptop closed.

Fuck, what have you done.

Pt. 2 coming soon :^>

Part 2

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