#guess who got back into reading blue lock

[kitwasheree]

always remember and never forget

[karasuneko]

GODDDDDD IDK WHAT CAME OVER ME BUT I'M SUDDENLY INTO RINSAGI????!? IT'S LIKE SOMETHING CLICKED IN PLACE AND NEXT THING I KNOW I'M READING DOUJINS AND IM GOING CRAZY RAAAAHSJDHKF

?+&#!£-#&/)@:"!"

OH???? FREAKS.

LAWWWWD I'VE BEEN POSSESSED BY THE YAOI GODS ONCE AGAIN

[nemesyaaa]

love in the dark — rafe cameron x gf's!twin! reader

summary ; it's all about your sister twin until rafe made a mistake by moaning your name instead of hers.....

warnings ; +18 content. minors dni. forbidden au. wrong sister trope. smut. p in v. oral (m.). attention's whore mentions. evil/angel twins. jjpope as bestfriend's readers and losers club bc i said so. cheating. little guilt. not girl girl sister content. be aware of the warnings before reading. i dont think its really dark content but it's kinda twisted so if you're not into it, just don't read it. friendly reminder that hate is useless and only hurtful for nothing.

words count : 1,8k.

author's note ; also a big thanks you to my girls @rafesangelita & @rafesheaven for helping me with this au ! it worked and I'm grateful ‼️✨

You were so different from your sister.

She was smart, popular, talented and the head of the cheerleader team. She always got the boys you wanted, reminding you that you could always dream of them, never be on their side. She was the beautiful girl of the school, her name literally glowing on every crush's list, the so-called “ kook princess ” by everyone.

She was too pretty to let you have a chance, which was unfair because you were literally her twin. You were living in her shadow. You were the so-called “ nerd & loser ” , the girl too focused on her revisions and hyperfixations, who love libraries and comics, having online friends and playing video games while chatting on discord. You were too online to be seen in real life.

All your boyfriends were literally fictional characters, and they were too fucked in mind to help you get popular at school. You always had a thing for depressed, stupid, losers, psychopaths boys. But it doesn't mean you were different from girls that had a crush on your sister's boyfriend. Who hadn't ?

Rafe Cameron was literally THE dream fantasy. You thought you had a chance when he ran toward you on the field, his helmet locked on his arms. He was so hot, his sweaty hair flying over his forehead while he was running, his big nose and wet lips glistening over the sunlight. His eyes were bright in a powerful way. You found him perfect. And you could imagine how easy life was for him because of his beauty privilege.

He smiled at you when no one did. And it was enough for you to fantasize about him, to imagine something with him. You were a hopeless romantic, forced to romanticize every small action in your life.

When he was close to you, you realized how big he was. His shoulders were broad, his chest firm and strong. His biceps were easily flexing like all the muscles on his body. The gym shorts were exposing his muscular legs. His jaw was art, especially aimed toward you just like that, as his blue eyes were watching nothing but you.

" Hey. ” he first said.

" Hey. " You said, wanting to slap yourself. Crazy how you just said the same thing as him but sounded more stupid. " Fucking loser. Do better. " you murmured to yourself.

" Can i have your sister's number ? "

You could swore at the moment that you lost your heart, as the same way your smile dropped.

But it was obvious. Every boy wanted your sister. You couldn't blame Rafe because why on earth would people want you when they could have a better version of you ? The thought of this was real and heartbreaking.

You forced a smile to answer him, not wanting him to know what's on your mind. You were already a loser, he didn't need to know how much. " Yes...yes, you can..." you just said softly, trying to hold back your tears, tired of this situation. " At this point, i think everyone has it..." You murmured to yourself with a bitter voice.

" What did you say ? ”

" What ? I said she's lucky. You're so pretty. " You replied, embarrassing yourself even more.

" I'm the lucky one. She's pretty. Guess i’ll see you at home. " He said with the cockiest smile ever.

So you started to see Rafe at home every night and day. He was always with your sister, they were always together.

Like Twins. Ironically.

But something was off. Your sister was unable to love. She just loved attention from boys. She wanted to be the attraction. She was always talking shit behind Rafe's back, treating him like nothing and you were wondering how he was still there with her.

That was crazy how everyone loved him at the house. Your parents already called him son, your sister was fakely in love, and you were really in love with him.

She was always kissing him, pulling him so close to her to steal a kiss. And after that, they were basically making out in front you. They didn't even care about your presence. And you started to think it was on purpose. Your sister wanted you to know that Rafe will never be yours, that she has something you would never have. The boy was hers.

But one day, you were at home after class, thinking of relaxing yourself during a show but something caught your attention.

You were upstairs when you heard some noises. Not the noises you were supposed to hear but you were used to with those people. You shouldn't but you walked toward the sound. The door was a little bit opened, so you checked.

And you saw it. Rafe was over your sister, oh you could see he was deep balls inside her, thrusting in and out her dripping core. His back was huge, covering your sister's body. They were fucking and from what you can heard, he was doing so good. He was fast, dick driving to her spot, hips slamming back and forth against her body. He was kissing her, hand on her throat, blocking her from breathing and fingers stuffed in mouth to the point she gagged on it. Her lips were pooling with saliva as she was nothing but a mess.

When you were about to step away, he did something that choked you.

“Fuck.. you're doing so good to me, y/n..."

Your fucking name. On his lips. When he was with your sister.

But that wasn't all. He did cum at this exact moment. He charged your twin with his load, whispering your name again and again until her pussy was full of his seed, until his voice was shaking to remain quiet.

“ What did you just say ? ” Your sister argued, a voice so loud and clear. “ Did you really say my twin's name ? ”

Oh she was mad. Really mad.

But for what ? Because she wasn't her man's attention, or for you ?

You covered your mouth with your hand to not scream.

" Shit, baby. I promise that's not what you think...Fuck, I'm sorry. "

“ You did not fucking do that. Did you really think of her ? God, you're such a jerk. ”

You went to your room, locked it because you were scared of your sister's tantrum. You tried to not think about it but you couldn't. Rafe really said it.

That was your name. He knew that you existed.

You were on call with your favorite losers. JJ and Pope. And so you asked them…

" What does it means when your sister's boyfriend is moaning your name while he's fucking her ? "

Pope's was gagged for a second while JJ first answered. " That he's fucking the wrong sister. I always tell you're prettier than her. "

" I would give you a chance if you weren't my bestfriend. "

" Did you really friendzone me ? "

" I mean... I'm into my sister's boyfriend. "

" But he's into her..." Pope corrected. " Sorry, after all, you have your chance. "

" I can't do that to my twin. "

" Well...if she can do that to you...maybe you should think of your villain era. "

" I'm not a mean girl. "

" You're not a girl girl too for wanting to Fuck your sister's boyfriend. So don't worry, you can be a bitch in peace. "

When someone knocked on the door, you cut the voice call and close your laptop before opening it.

It was Rafe. His hair was still messy from the sex, his voice deep and tired. He was all sweaty, wearing nothing but a black boxer. He was so insanely muscled, his pecs and abs glowing with sweat that was leading to a soft happy trail under his belly and heading inside the fabric of his pants. You couldn't stop yourself from lurking at the bulge. And the fact you know that he just had sex doesn't help at all.

" It's not gonna help if you continue to stare like that..." He mocked, but in a gentle way.

You looked away, suddenly uncomfortable with yourself. “ You're gonna act shy now ? Come on, we all know that's not what you are. " He continued while moving inside your room.

" Hey ! What are you doing ? "

" That's a nice room. " He complimented, looking everywhere. Your comics, posters, books, goodies and video games. “ Look like you've been alone here for so long. "

" You don't know anything about my life. " You said.

" I can tell you're nothing like your sister. You love all those things she hates. "

" And why aren't you with her ? "

" She's taking a shower. "

“ So that's why you suddenly give me attention ? ” You said bitterly. “ She's not there so now I now exist to you ? ”

He chuckled, before heading toward you, grabbing your face with his hand.

“ Oh you think it's easy to forget about you ? I see you everytime i see her. But not only... "

You glared at him for the first time he was in your room, he managed to have your attention. He smiled softly.

" I fuck you everytime i fuck her. "

You didn't care how weird it was, only cared about what he thought of you. In a second, your lips were on his.

Rafe didn't say no, he pulled you closer, his mouth pressed against your sweet lips as you felt his nose crushing against yours. Now, he could tell that you were different from your sister by the taste.

" Do you always do that ? " He whispered, licking at the string of saliva between you.

“ Do what ? "

" Stealing your sister's boyfriend ? "

" At least, it's the first time it works. " You played back. “ I want you, now”

“ Do you think you can make me cum in time ? ”

“ Do you think i'm inexperienced ? ”

“ I think you should get on your knees to prove me wrong. ”

He was against the door, while you were now on your knees, sucking his dick while your twin was still in the shower.

You weren't really proud but you were starting to think you were better than her. And the thought was obsessive. With a hand fisting his length, and your mouth pumping harder, you were doing your best. He was looking at you, fingers over your hair. You were pretty with his dick inside your throat, holding your boobs as he started to fuck your face.

The bathroom's door opened and you freaked out but Rafe forced you to still hold the pace, telling you to not worry about that.

“ Rafey…Rafey, where are you ? ” You heard her say.

With no answer, you panicked at her footsteps approaching your door. “Did you see, Rafe?” she asked.

With devilish eyes, Rafe released his cock from your mouth, inviting you to respond as you tried to catch your breath.

“ I-i don't know…” You just said with a little guilt.

“ So useless…” You heard her say before walking away.

She was so mean, you hated her.

Rafe saw that you were hurt by her words, and grabbed your jaw slowly, forcing you to look him in the eyes. “ She's wrong, baby. Look at you, how useful are you. ”

And you smiled. “ And pretty. ”

“ We share the same face. We're twins, Rafe. ”

“ But there's something I'm sure you don't share with her…what about spreading your legs for me and let me show you ? ”

You nodded.

“ Think you can moan the right sister's name this time ? ”

[yandere-wishes]

.ᐟ𖹭~ Ciao Amore ~𖹭.ᐟ

⭒⌒★ Yandere!Batfamily x CatFam!Reader ★⌒⭒

゜。♡ 𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝒱𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑒'𝓈 𝒟𝒶𝓎 ♡ ｡ ゜

✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗

𓆩☾𓆪 Nightwing - Dick Grayson | بالشب - دیک گریسون

Dick kisses each candy heart before pushing it past your lips. His smile is saccharine, the lite of his voice pure sugar. His presence gives you cavities. You thought you'd run away from him, freed yourself from your nocturnal life. But here he is again pinning you to your couch as he gives you your valentine.

His sweetness sinks into you, pushing through your bones until you feel him rotting your marrow. Even the bonbons in your mouth taste of him, you swallow each one while looking into his perfect midsummer eyes. He pauses on the last candy, slips it into his tongue before kissing you, he guides the blue heart into your mouth along with every ounce of devotion his body holds. Be mine the candy reads.

Be mine

❀࿔ Red Hood - Jason Todd | نقاب سرخ - جیسون تاد

You are a narcotic laying heavy upon his tongue, plaguing his brain with your essence, your image glimmering within every vertiginous thought. Jason pulls you closer strong hands grasping at your bones. You can feel the frenetic beat of his reanimated heart, it almost seems to scream 'I love you'. He falls to the ground taking you with him, he won't leave you ever again, no matter what you must die with him. Your legs straddle his lap, forehead resting on his. He has full control of you, maneuvering your body how he deems fit. His lips trace the curve of your neck and shoulder.

There's a dreadful chill creeping up your spine, skin sizzling under every kiss, you can't move, can't breathe. When you open your eyes again he's still there, Jason is always there. Red shadow following your every move until he has you locked away between his arms. He's like poison flooding your veins, killing you slowly, softly, and dubbing every ache 'love'. Slowly his lips ghost over yours, locking too suddenly, you're drowning again.

All while Jason is high off you.

´ཀ` Arkham Knight - Jason Todd | سلحشور آرکام - جیسون تاد

You look so cute like this his precious little pet curled up on his bed. The Arkham Knight stalks forward his shadow rattling you from your light slumber. You whimper miserably pulling the covers closer to your bruised frame. Poor little kitty cat he thinks mesmerized by the sheer fright glistening in your eyes. "It's Valentine's Day you know" his synthesized voice bellows. He's sitting on the bed now, too close, iron-clad fingers patting your head, fingers lacing roughly through matted hair. "Since we're a couple now, I guess I got to get you something."

You hiss, pulling back, you really are a cat he realizes, a pretty little housecat who's strayed too far from home. The switchblade slides from his wrist, he taps it lovingly against your lips. He doesn't fail to notice your exhausted sigh as he carves a heart intercepting your collarbone. His thumb pinches your cheek, all boyish hijinks and remnants of puppy dog love. This is correct he thinks finally you are his, all his.

Mine Mine Mine

｡♦｡ Red Robin - Tim Drake | رابین قرمز- تیم دریک

There are matrices inside your eyes, celestial stars dancing between each blink. Tim watches as you click on his email, pretty face illuminated by the computer screen. ILOVEYOU the email reads, blue bold strokes dulling under your curser, you make the reckless mistake of clicking, of forgetting how potent three simple words can be. Your screens flicker, bleeding Red Robin red, candied words flood the screen. I Love You.

Tim creeps into your room, heart on his sleeve beating, he swears he's not a stalker or a creepy fan. He's just a little lovesick, just a little bit too obsessed. How could he not be? You're an ethereal equation he's spent countless nights studying from behind a screen, something so distant, empyrean, like trying to pry out secrets from lost galaxies.

He pushes the heart-shaped bag forward, practically melting it into your hands, watching eagerly as you pull the zipper to open his gift. Laying atop the cacophony of chocolates and cosmetics is a simple slip of paper scribbled in red.

I Love You

ꨄ︎ Robin - Damian Wayne| سینه‌سرخ - دامیان وین

There's an engraving in his heart that bares your name, rugged laceration that ever only stops to bleed when your claws collide with his sword. Damian harbors his legacy between his bones, feeding it, letting the expectations fester until they crack and reshape his body. But he needs you to do it, needs you close by when he finally inherits his bearings.

But sometimes, sometimes when nobody but the moon is around to witness his exhaustion. He haunts you down for the sole purpose of being near you. To inhale the airy scent of your perfume and stare into those bewitching eyes. Tonight, he sprints from rooftop to rooftop trying to find

and when he sees you bathing beneath the pale moon's rays, Damian swears his heart stops. He clears his throat prideful even when he's all so desperate for a sliver of your attention. When you turn your head to face him ethereal eyes glimpse at him, he hurriedly presents you with a gift. A single dagger oriented with a little bow around the hilt. It's almost like presenting you with a part of his DNA, only problem is you can't tell if he's challenging you or proposing, both thoughts make you sick. Before you can speak he's disappeared into the night, heart rattling his ribs as his face grows painfully hot.

You Better Appreciate The Gift.

🦇 Batman - Bruce Wayne | بتمن - بروس وین

The moon is his witness, the best wingman in town. He thinks it's funny how in so many ways he's made every creature that roams through the twilight streets. The mayer once called the nightmares of Gotham 'his', 'Batman's' and Bruce could do nothing to stop the way his heart skipped an anguished beat. Because they were his, his rogues, his gallery, and someone how, by some mistake somewhere, he had turned you into one of them. His little villain, his little kitten, prowling through the night.

There's retribution in the way he kisses you, his tongue tastes of cathartic desperation as it rolls between your lips. His grip on your forearms is so tight you feel your arms go numb. He's let you slip through his fingers so many times under the moon's watchful gaze, he refuses to let it happen again. This time he has you, this time he won't repeat the same mistakes. You are his.

His Forever

₊⁺₊☠︎︎₊⁺₊ The Batman Who Laughs - Bruce Wayne | بتمن که می خندد - بروس وین

You snort the blood from your nose trying to crack the broken thing back into place, the black menace only laughs, his long tongue rolling out to lick at the crimson substance. "You're so pretty when you bleed" he insists as his lips marr your flesh, teeth abrading at the veins hunting for more blood. You try to push him away but he only grips you tighter talons sinking into your skin, your blood under his nails.

The monster kisses you, splitting your lip in the process, iron floods your mouth before he slams you onto the ground. You look so seraphic bleeding beneath him, feline eyes darkened over with a vicious glare. But it only serves to make him laugh, he dedicates each giggle to you, his perfect little pet. You turn and bite his wrist, but the monster only laughs harder. He leans down again spiked mask puncturing your eyebrows, dragging over your eyes slicing the optic, and traversing the valley of your cheek. You scream not from the scorching pain but from this manic comedy, you've been doomed to.

Happy Valentine's Day

༻¨*:· Terry McGinnis - Batman | تری مک گینس - باتمن

Terry's kisses are heavy monstrous things. Hungry and careful, sweet contradictions that leave little lovebites in their wake. You squirm against the brick wall grip tightening on the bag of stolen compartments, daring him to try and pry it away. But the caped crusader only seems focused on you.

Terry longs to see your face, you shatter that dreaded helmet and look into your eyes. He chews on your flesh, claws at your body anything to feel closer, anything to feel loved. He dreams of too many 'one days' of holding your hand and walking through the city, neon hearts bleeding overhead. But for now, he lays content in the dark, holding you and feeling the feverish pounding your your heart against his.

Please Just Love Me

[luveline]

i see ur thinking abt the marauders and i was just thinking abt them too!! i just saw a thread on twt abt how much men hate their girlfriends but wont break up with them (😖😖) and couldn't stop thinking abt how james would be so BAFFLED reading it!! would you be able to write something for that? its perfectly fine if not!! ily <33

I luv you! I'm not sure what thread you mean but I made a guess, sorry if it's not right ♡ fem, 1k

modern au. cw mention of toxic/hurtful relationships

"What is that?" James asks, pushing the sheets back as he climbs in beside you. His bowl of cereal is heaping, upwards of ten weetabix doused in milk, sugar, raspberries, blueberries, and a generous squeeze of honey.

"What?" you ask, showing him your phone screen. 

James leans over you to scroll back up. "Men who hate their girlfriends?" 

"Oh, it's like, people posting their screenshots, I think." You click on the tweet he'd been pointing at and show him the replies underneath. "It's just boys who act like they don't love their partners but won't break up with them either, there's loads on there." 

"What?" he asks, holding his bowl in one hand. "Can I?" You give him your phone happily, watching as he reads through some of the examples, screenshots from different websites and forums. "'Recently had to tell a friend's bird that he was calling her all sorts of names. I'm loyal to my friends, but you could hear the hatred in his voice sometimes. She left him two days later and he was surprised, for some reason.'"

James' eyebrows pinch. He continues, "'Am I in the wrong for asking my husband to stay awake with me during my early morning labour? He keeps bringing it up.'" James shows you your phone screen. "Like, he's mad she didn't let him sleep through the birth of their child?" 

"You know, there was a video on there a few weeks ago where a girl had put together a compilation of her boyfriend play fighting with her, and each video got nastier and nastier." You reach for the spoon to his bowl to start chopping up the weetabix the way he likes. "He was kicking her legs from under her and she was laughing it off. Once or twice, I'd think it was funny, but he wasn't even laughing himself." 

"Why the fuck?" James asks. 

"I don't know. Can I have a raspberry?" 

"They're in there for you to steal…" James watches you chew. You try not to pay too much attention to his staring, plopping your phone down in the sheets between your legs. "Why are these boys getting with women they don't like?" 

"I don't know, Jamie," you tell him honestly, wading through his bowl for another raspberry. "I think they get comfortable." 

He accepts the spoon back from you and you slouch down the fabric headboard together. James eats his weetabix slowly, the TV sending a light blue light into your otherwise dark room. "It's a bit late for supper," you murmur. "Were you hungry?" 

James puts his bowl on the nightstand. Coils of curls brush your forehead as he leans down, one big hand on the back of your neck and the other stretched across the shoulder furthest away from him, holding you in place as he kisses the top of your head. It's a weighty kiss, full of love. "I love you. Don't ever let anyone treat you like those boys on your phone, yeah?" 

You hum lightly. "That's what boys are like." 

"I know. I'm just begging you not to let people do that to you." He rubs your shoulder roughly, a massaging that hurts in the good way. "You know, if you can. I get that it's not their choice." 

"Yeah. I think people want so badly to be loved that they'll take the pretend kind. I was lucky to find you before you found someone else. You always make me happy." 

"This is what I mean," he whines, resting his cheek on your forehead. You sigh happily at his touch, more than ready for a night of his arms around you, a heavy leg thrown over your hips to lock you in. "You think you're lucky because of those dickheads." 

"No, it doesn't have anything to do with them. Just you." 

James sits up to turn your face to his. "Love you," he says, kissing you quickly. 

"Love you too. Don't stress about the phone, babe, you're not the audience they're looking for." 

James hears your teasing tone toward the end, poking your side. "What's that for?" 

"Nothing, just, you tried to follow me into the bathroom last night even when I told you I wasn't showering. If you're that eager to sit with me while I pee, I doubt you'll be the kind of guy who ends up on that forum." 

"It wasn't about the peeing, stop trying to shame me," he grumbles, again pulling you in for a hug, "it was separation anxiety. I miss you."

"I get why these women end up like that, though," you say quietly. "I get why they stay. If you started shoving me for a laugh or whatever, I'd think about this, because you love me. Does that make sense? I'm so happy right now that I wouldn't want to believe that you didn't love me anymore." 

"I know. It's fucking sad. I can't believe they do shit like that, it's pure selfishness." James settles back in his pillow. "I wouldn't ever do that shit to you. I know everyone says that, but I have to say it anyway." 

"I know, Jamie. Don't worry. I'm not worried about it, only talking." 

You offer him your hand. James takes it, rubs the back of it, brings it to his lips for a barely felt kiss. "Is there anything happy on that app?" he asks. 

"Uh, I saw a video of a baby girl who only stops crying when her cat comes to check on her. Or a pregnancy reveal where the boyfriend starts crying and begging her to get married." 

James rests his face on your shoulder, snuffling into your skin contentedly, "Ah, so my future. Put it on, angel." 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

So I

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your casual arrangement turns a bit too serious.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

There’s a knock at the door. You huff as you don’t need to look through the peep hole to know who it is. No buzzer but he always finds a way. 

You pick up your phone and open the chat, ‘told you I’m tired.’ 

The little check mark flicks down. Read. No reply comes, only another knock on the door. 

‘Long day.’ You send another message. 

Thump. Thump. Thump. 

“You really want me to knock the door down?” Bucky chuckles through the wood. 

You inhale and roll yourself off the couch. You drop the phone on the square end table as you pass and drag your feet to the door. You lean on the inside and yawn as loudly as you can. 

“It’s after curfew,” you jeer. He wiggles the handle. “Go home.” 

“You’re gonna leave me out here like a stray cat? Come on. I came all the way down here,” he pleads. 

You turn your back to the door and shrug, “told you not to. Besides, not all of us have a soft spot for alley cats.” 

“Alpine is not an ally cat. Come on, I brought beer.” 

You scoff, “thought that piss didn’t do anything for ya?” 

“No, but it makes you a lot of fun.” 

You huff and push off the door. You turn and slide back the chain. You flip the lock back and open up. You arch a brow at your uninvited guested. 

“Thank you,” you trill and grab the six pack from him. He catches the door before you can swing it shut. He tuts and steps forward, pushing his elbow into the wood until you let it go. 

“Don’t play games. You know, I can tell when you’re in need of a good fucking. You don’t send any emojis.” He snaps the door shut behind him as you retreat with your prize. 

“Or maybe I was trying to get you to stop texting so I could enjoy my new toy in peace. Ever think of that. Sometimes It's about efficiency, not passion.” 

“Passion?” He scoffs as leans a hand on the wall and lifts a foot to undo his boot. 

“Probably not the right word for this,” you free a can from the plastic rings and shove the rest in the fridge. 

“You and your goddamn toys. Let me guess, this one has blue tooth.” 

“Does yours?” You strut out of the kitchen and flick his arm in passing. 

“No but it’s got all the features you need and you know it.” He taps your ass before you can elude him. 

You crack the can of beer and take a deep gulp. The TV continues to blare the reality show retrospective you’ve been feeding your time to. You flop on the couch and sigh. You suck down the grainy brew and swallow a gulp before it can escape your throat. 

Bucky looms behind the couch and grips the back. He leans over you. “How many of those until those hideous pajamas come off?” 

“Ha? What? You don’t wanna fuck me in my Spongebob jammies? They’re vintage.” 

He snorts, “you really are good a killing the mood, aren’t you?” 

“You’re a real Squidward sometimes, you know that?” You slurp another mouthful. 

“I have no idea what that is,” he says flatly as he tickles along your shoulder. 

You hate it. You hate him. Just a touch and you’re ready to go. Minutes ago, you were ready to pass out but now you’re wide awake. And fucking horny. 

“BPM going up, body temperature rising,” he runs his vibranium knuckles along your cheek and you wince away from him. 

“I hate when you do that.” You pull away and stand, plunking down the can. You huff and peel off your tank top. “I have an interview for a promotion tomorrow so hurry up.” 

“Romantic? Do you still wanna use the new toy? You know I don’t mind filling your mouth when you get like this.” 

You stick your tongue out at him and point to the bedroom. He rolls his eyes and strides off. You pause the television and take another swig of beer. You need to sleep and he’s good at fucking you into a coma. 

As you reach the bedroom, he’s already naked. His broad shoulders are etched in scars, the left one mottled with aged burns along the border of vibranium. His muscles cord down along his rib cage and sides.

A year ago, you would never expect a man like this to be standing naked in your bedroom. A super soldier. Bucky Barnes. 

He turns to you and wiggles the little square between his two fingers. The wrapped condom reflects the overhead light with its flashy packaging. He flexes his chest as you reach to undo your bra. 

“Should I pop it on now or can I get a taste first?” He asks with a flick of his tongue. 

You march to him and swipe the condom from his grasp. You jab his chest and he staggers back to the bed, his legs pressing against the frame. He teeters as he smirks down at you. 

“I’ll give you a ride, cowboy.” 

He falls back and spreads his arms wide. The bed squeaks beneath his weight. You push down your pajama pants and climb over him. You toss the mattress to the top of the bed as you raise yourself on your knees, hovering over his head as his thick hair fans out beneath.

He turns to graze his beard against your thigh. You purr and lower yourself to smother him in your cunt. He hums and laps at you eagerly. 

Mmm. This is exactly the stress relief you need. 

[4ngels0uls]

god forbit i should live right? - C.B

don’t like? don’t read.

summary: carrington and y/n fuck hate each other so much that they would end up slitting each other’s throats, till carrington gets fed up and fucks the rudeness out of her.

paring: fem!reader + rude!carrington

warnings: SMUT, random tension, enemy’s to fuck buddies, unprotected sex, oral (fem!receiving), little pet names ( slut?, pretty girl ), strong language, kinda porn without a plot, etc.

a/n: i’m going to go rot in a hole🤗 also guess who found out carringtons last name😣

————————————————————

y/ns pov

“carrington you asshole!” you scream from across the house. you yelled this because he took your charger, your only good charger. your yelling because he had broken your other charger, and also he took your fan. you and carrington fucking hate each other, and jake and johnnie are fed up with it. “what the fuck are you yelling about now y/n?!?” jake also yells.

“carrington! not you!” you yell back. you and carrington used to be best friends when you both just had moved in, but now…. you want to fucking slit each other’s throats. “what the fuck do you want now y/n!?” carrington yells. you guys only hate each other so much is because he begin to become a total bitch to you after he hooked up with this one girl, till he got his heart broken. after that he started to become a bit more nicer than usual

“did you take my charger and fan?!” you yell at carrington. “yeah!?” he yells and you scoff. you go down the stairs to his room and go in there. “stop taking my shit bro.” you scold him as you grab your fan and charger. “i only borrowed it for a bit, jeez.” he mumbles. “bro you took it for a full day, i was literally at a meeting!” you scold once again. “yeah ok whatever.” he mumbles as you walk out of his room. ‘fucking asshole.” is all you can really think.

————————————————————

you sit in johnnie’s room with him has you watch him stream. carrington walks into the room. “John joh-. oh.” he says as he sees you. you look back at him and realize it’s him, then you look back to johnnie screen. “yeah ?” johnnie says as he doesn’t look over from his screen. “whatchu doing?” carrington asks, completely ignoring you. “i’m playing a game.” johnnie says quietly.

“oh okayy.” carrington says. “i’m about to go out for a bit then stream when i get back.” carrington continues. “where ya going?” johnnie asks. “just to a restaurant with a few friends.” carrington answers. jesus carrington sounds so much more relaxed when he’s talking to johnnie.. it’s actually not as annoying. you stare at carrington as he’s not wearing a shirt, because of how hot it is.

you suck your teeth and finally look away as carrington goes to look at you. he smirks and leaves the room. “alright johnnie i’m goin to go now.” you say as you stand up. “okay, see you.” he says softly. you walk out of johnnie’s room and start to walk to yours, till carrington spins you around. “i saw you staring at me.” he says quietly. “god forbit i should live, right?” you tell him. “i saw the way you stared at me y/n. you can’t play it off.” he says. you begin to feel your cheeks flush.

“and that’s exactly why your blushing y/n.” he says softly. you stare into his blue, piercing eyes, as he stares into your shit brown eyes. he lifts your chin and you swallow. he takes a fast glance at your lips then to your eyes. he smash his lips into yours like nothing. his tongue completely explores your mouth. he lifts you up and take you to your room as he shuts and lock your door and places you on your bed.

he continues to kiss you crazy. he pulls away to breath as he locks eyes with you. someone knocks on your door. “hey y/n?” jake yells from the other side of the door. “y-yeah?!” you yell back. “have you seen carrington. “no and i don’t care.” you say while lying. “oh okay.” jake says as he walks away. “no i don’t care.” carrington mimics you. “shut up!” you laugh as he chuckles. he kisses you again, he begins to kiss down your neck and jawline.

he goes back down to your neck and leaves a dark, purple hickey. “you like being rude huh?” he says in a whisper. you let a slight pathetic moan out. “pathetic.” is all he says and slides your pants down. “carrington.” you moan slightly. he groans at your noises. “slutty.” carrington says as he starts at the red lacy thong you have on. he hooks his middle and pointer finger in the strap of your thong.

he pulls the thong down to your ankles before tugging them off. he makes you put your knees up and you do what he wants. he places his face between your thighs. he places sloppy kisses on your inner thighs. you whine at his teasing and he chuckles. you buck your hips and he moves his mouth to your clit. you gasp at the waves of pleasure though out your body. “f-fuck carrington.” you groan as he fastens his pace with his tongue.

“fuck you taste good.” he mumbles against your pussy. he moves his mouth down and sticks his tongue in your hole. “fuck carrington!” you moan. you wrap your fingers around his brown locks. you close your thighs around his head and he holds the back of both of your thighs. you begin to grind your hips into his face, chasing your release. “fuckkkk!” you moan quite loudly as you feel the knot snap inside of your stomach making you cum all on carringtons face.

he licks your pussy clean, in which making you squirm like crazy. he stops and chuckles. he leans up and kisses you, making you taste your own release. he pulls away and smiles at you while you smile back. “fuck your hot.” he smiles. “other way around” you mumble and he smiles. he takes his pants off, along with his boxers. he lines himself up with your pussy and slams into you like nothing. you gasp when he just slams into you.

he chuckles as he begins to thrust his hips in the same place over and over. he finds your g spot and you moan loudly. he smiles “found it.” he mumbles before hitting the same spot again and again. “oh fuck me!” you moan loudly. “trust me, i am.” he says, while being cocky. you moan repeatedly as he slams into you. “such a pretty girl hm?” he says as the only thing you can think about is him fucking you like crazy.

you dig your nails into his back and he grunts from the stinging your causing. “fuck y/n..” he groans as he fucks you. “oh fuckkkk! i’m close!” you moan. “oh are you now?” he says. “y-yes!” you surprisingly say. “hold it.” he says with dominance. “what?” you grunt. “i said fucking hold it.” he grunts as his pace quickens. you try to hold release as much as you can. “please carrington!” you moan.

“please what?” he teases. “l-let me cum!” you scream. jake and johnnie have definitely heard you now. “shh pretty girl.” carrington says as he covers your mouth with his hand. “go ahead now, i’m right behind you.” he mumbles, trying to keep his act together. you scream into carringtons hand as you release your cum onto his dick, soaking his dick from your release. “fuck me carrington!” you scream into carringtons hand. “fuckkk!” he groans as he releases inside of you.

he collapses beside you. “fuck you feel good.” he chuckles as he talks. you get up on carringtons lap. “one more?” you ask. he smirks and nods. you line him up against your core and sink down on him. you gasp. “fuck.” you says, breathlessly. you put your hands on the headboard of the bed for support.

you continue to ride carrington as he holds onto your hips and groans, and moans under you. “mmm fuck carrington.” you moan softly. your pace is slow but fast. carrington grabs your hips and thrusts up into you. you gasp as he thrusts up into you, your tits bouncing with you as he pumps up into you. “fuck carrington!” you moan. “you feel so good y/n.” he groans. “so fucking tight around me.” he groans again.

“such a perfect body, hm?” he mumbles. at this point.. his words are turning you on even more. “oh fuck dadd- carrington!” you accidentally spit out ‘daddy’. he smirks and fastens his pace. you gasp. “fuck!fuck!fuck!” you scream. “you close?” carrington groans. “yes!” you yell. “fuck fuck! yesyesyesyes!” you say repeatedly. “in cumming!” you scream.

you cum all on carrington and the bed. carrington throws his head back and cums inside of you once again. you slowly pull off of him. you whimper before flopping right on the bed. “shit! i have to go!” carrington rushes up. “bye. i have to go i’ll see you soon.” he says carefully.

he rushes up and puts all his clothes on before rushing out the door and house. you sit there speechless. “fucking asshole.” you mumble before getting up and putting your clothes on. you walk into your bathroom and fix up your hair before going downstairs.

you walk into the kitchen and grab a drink before johnnie appears randomly. “how was your fuck with carrington?” he asks calmly before grabbing something out of the cabinet. “it was goo- stfu.” you say before johnnie chuckles. “good dick huh? i know from experience.” johnnie says jokingly before walking off. “what the fuck..” you whisper under your breath.

holy fuck. god forbit i should live right?.

————————————————————

A/N

HAHAAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAA

anyways sorry for the post from when i was high😓

i was being a bit freaky.

[slutoru1207]

Variant!Mark x reader part 5

not proof read

The air crackled with tension.

You could hear the distant sounds of sirens, the shouts of the Guardians regrouping, but all of it felt far away—like background noise to the only thing that mattered right now.

Three Marks.

Three versions of the man you loved, all looking at you like you were the last piece of something they’d lost a long time ago.

And then—

A sonic boom.

The force of it nearly knocked you off your feet as your Mark landed between you and them, his body tensed in a protective stance. His suit was torn, blood dripping from a cut above his eyebrow, but none of that mattered.

He was here.

"Get the hell away from her."

His voice was steady, but you could hear the barely restrained fury underneath. His fists clenched at his sides, his golden eyes locked onto the variants with nothing but pure hatred.

Sinister Mark was the first to react, tilting his head with an amused smirk. “Oh? And who are you to stop us?”

Your Mark’s jaw tightened. “I’m her Mark. The real one.”

Mohawk Mark scoffed, arms crossing over his chest. “Real?” His voice was laced with something bitter. “Funny, ‘cause from where I’m standing, you’re just the lucky one. The one who got to keep her.”

Your stomach twisted. This was bad.

Viltrumite Mark cracked his knuckles. “We’ve lost her too many times,” he said, his voice low and deadly. “We won’t let that happen again.”

And then—

They moved.

It was instantaneous, a blur of fists and fury as they collided mid-air. Your Mark barely had time to react before Mohawk Mark slammed into him, sending them both crashing through the side of a building. Dust and debris rained down as they disappeared into the wreckage.

Sinister Mark turned to you, eyes gleaming. “Guess it’s just you and me now, sweetheart.”

You ran.

But you didn’t make it far.

A strong grip wrapped around your wrist, yanking you back. You gasped as you crashed against his chest, his fingers curling under your chin to force you to look at him.

His expression softened—almost fond, in a sick, twisted way.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he murmured, brushing a stray hair from your face. “I’ve missed you.”

You struggled, pushing at his chest. “I don’t know you.”

His grip tightened. “No,” he admitted. “But I know you.” His gaze darkened, lips inches from yours. “And I’m not letting you go again.”

Before he could say another word—

A streak of blue and yellow crashed into him.

Your Mark tackled Sinister Mark hard, sending them both skidding across the pavement.

"You don't get to touch her."

You stumbled back, heart pounding as you watched them trade blows, fists colliding with sickening force.

Viltrumite Mark reappeared then, wiping blood from his mouth. His gaze flickered to you. “Time to go.”

Your eyes widened as he reached for you—

And then Mohawk Mark’s body slammed into him, sending them both sprawling.

You barely had time to process it before someone grabbed your hand—gently, this time.

Your Mark.

"Come on," he said, eyes filled with urgency.

And you ran.

But deep down, you knew—

This wasn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

part 6

[palmersluvr]

write us sthg like electricity is out, it will be for hours, Luigi decides it's a good opportunity to play cards he explains the rules to you but it bores the shit out of u and u cant stop staring at his neck and arms and he notices

outage

summary: when the power goes out, you find a rather interesting way to pass the time with your boyfriend.

warnings: smut, light bondage (lu is tied up and also blindfolded😣) breast sucking, p in v, breeding, female masturbation

notes: don’t like don’t read 🤪🤪🤪🤪

──── ୨୧ ──── ──── ୨୧ ────

you and luigi are cuddled up in bed, wrapped in soft blankets, the tv at the end of your shared bed lighting up with mario kart. he’s propped up against the wall, one arm around you, while you’re curled up against his chest, wearing nothing but his blue bali shirt that he wore religiously.

the comforting scent of him clings to the fabric, loose and cozy on you. he’s always said his clothes are your clothes, a sentiment that makes you feel even closer. his bare legs tangle with yours under the covers, his free hand resting on your hip as the nintendo switch hums to life.

“i can’t wait to absolutely kick your ass.” luigi says, his voice laced with playful confidence as he scrolls through the character select screen. he pauses, then showcases a cocky grin, locking in his choice.

“i’m gonna go with luigi. the BEST character in the franchise.” he declares, giving you a cheeky side eye. “who you gonna try to beat me with, huh?”

snorting softly, you navigate the character select screen, pausing briefly before picking peach. “i’m gonna go with my girl peach. watch, she’ll fucking DESTROY you.” you say, confirming your choice with a smug glance his way.

he laughs, his hand grazing your hip in a teasing nudge as he leans in, his bare chest warm against your side. “you’re all talk,” he shoots back, his voice dripping with playful bravado. “peach doesn’t stand a chance against my skills.” smirking, he settles back against the wall, controller in hand, as moonview highway loads up, the vibrant track lighting up the tv.

the countdown blares, and you both lean forward, focused. “three, two, one, go!” you call out, your kart surging forward with a boost. luigi’s kart is right beside you, weaving expertly through the track, but you nudge his arm with a grin. “hey, watch it lu! or you’re going down!”

“down? did you forget that i’m untouchable?” he retorts, laughing as he tries to bump your kart off the track. “take this!” his luigi kart edges ahead, but you’ve got a trick up your sleeve.

smirking, you lean over, one hand playfully covering his eyes. “hey! stop it! that’s cheating!” he protests, chuckling as his kart swerves, narrowly dodging traffic.

“what’s the matter baby? can’t see?” you tease, giggling as you keep your hand there a moment longer, your peach kart speeding past with a red shell locked and loaded. but before you can launch it, a sharp crack rings out, and the tv goes dead, the room plunging into pitch black silence as the power cuts out.

luigi’s laugh fades into a frustrated huff. “seriously? right when i was winning?” he mutters, gently pulling your hand from his eyes, his tone tinged with annoyance at the outage.

you try to laugh it off, leaning against his chest, the blue bali shirt still clinging to your body. “guess the universe is team peach!” you say lightly, but the quiet of the darkened room presses in, the cozy vibe strained as luigi’s arms wrap tighter around you, both of you sitting in the stillness, blankets tangled around you.

he lets out a soft chuckle, shifting to pull you closer. “oh, be quiet.” he teases, his voice warm and playful despite the power cut’s weight. he tilts his head, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before he lets out a quiet sigh, the sound mingling with the silence.

a flush creeps up your cheeks, the warmth of his kiss sparking a shy smile as you nestle closer, the darkness hiding your blush. “okay, fine, but we gotta figure this out,” you murmur, grabbing your phone from the tangle of blankets.

the screen’s glow lights up your face as you pull up your power company’s website, scrolling through outage updates. “let’s see… looks like they’re saying power should be back in a couple hours…” you say, glancing at luigi, his face softly illuminated by the phone’s light.

“a couple hours?” luigi says with a grin, his tone light as he shifts, reaching for the nightstand. “alright. i’ve got cards around here somewhere.” he digs out a tattered deck, smirking. “wanna play? lose owes the winner breakfast in bed.”

you raise an eyebrow, setting your phone aside. “deal. but don’t start crying when i beat you.”

──── ୨୧ ──── ──── ୨୧ ────

moments later, you’re both sitting cross legged on the bed, blankets pushed aside, a small candle on the bedside table casting a warm, flickering glow over the card deck between you. luigi is enthusiastically explaining the rules of crazy eights, his voice filled with excitement as he drones on.

you’re already bored, tuning out his little rant, your eyes drawn to his neck, where the striking, purple hickeys you left last night stand out sharply against his skin.

your mind slips back to the previous evening, when you rode him with fierce, unrelenting intensity, hips slamming and grinding in a relentless, feverish cadence. his hands gripped your thighs, fingers sinking into your flesh as his loud groans filled the air, fueling your fire.

you leaned forward, lips and teeth ravaging his neck, sucking with bruising force and biting hard, leaving dark, possessive marks as his body shook beneath you, your nails raking down his chest, marking your territory as you both lost yourselves in the wild, untamed passion.

“babe, are you even listening to me?” luigi’s voice cuts through, snapping you back to reality, his brow raised and a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he catches you staring.

“nope.” you say casually, giving a small shrug as your eyes now linger on his biceps.

luigi raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a curious smirk as he watches you, still catching his breath from moments before.

without a word, you shift, moving with deliberate grace to straddle his lap, your thighs settling over his as you press yourself close, the warmth of your body reigniting the heat between you. his hands instinctively find your hips, gripping lightly as he looks up at you, intrigued.

you lean in, your lips brushing just shy of his ear, voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “i’ve got a better idea.” you murmur, your tone teasing yet laced with promise, as you roll your hips ever so slightly, sparking a hungry glint in his eyes.

luigi’s grin deepens, his hands slipping from your hips to your backside, fingers gripping tightly as he draws you closer, the heat of his touch sparking a shiver down your spine. his voice, rough and thick with curiosity, rumbles as he angles his head to meet your gaze. “that so? care to share?” he teases, egging you on as his thumbs trace slow, deliberate circles against your skin.

your lips curl into a mischievous smile as you pull back slightly, just enough to let your fingers trail down his chest. without breaking eye contact, you tug at the hem of his shirt, slowly peeling it upward, exposing the taut muscles beneath. luigi lifts his arms, letting you slide the fabric off completely, and you toss it aside, your hands immediately returning to roam his bare skin, savoring the warmth and the way his muscles tense under your touch.

your fingers linger on his shoulders, tracing slow, deliberate paths as you tilt your head, a playful glint in your eyes. “you know that purple tie you always wear to formal events?” you say, your voice low and suggestive, a teasing edge to your words as you lean in closer, letting the implication hang in the charged space between you.

luigi’s smirk falters slightly, his eyes narrowing as a hint of nervous curiosity creeps into his expression. “yeah… what about it?” he asks, his voice tinged with a cautious edge, though the heat in his gaze betrays his intrigue as he shifts beneath you.

your lips curve into a sly grin, and you lean even closer, your breath warm against his skin. “give it here.” you reply, your tone commanding yet playful, the words carrying a spark of mischief as you hold his gaze, daring him to comply.

he hesitates for a moment, then lets out a low chuckle, the sound laced with both nerves and excitement. leaning to the side, he reaches for the bedside table, his fingers quickly finding the familiar purple tie draped over the edge. he grabs it, the silky fabric catching the dim light as he hands it to you, his eyes locked on yours, a mix of anticipation and uncertainty flickering in them.

you take the tie, letting it slide through your fingers as you flash him a wicked smile. “atta boy,” you murmur, your voice dripping with teasing authority.

then, leaning in close, you let your gaze drop to his hands before meeting his eyes again. “give me your wrists, lu.” you say, the command soft but firm, the tie dangling in your hand as you wait for him to obey.

his breath quickens, his cheeks flushing slightly as he fidgets beneath you, his usual confidence replaced by a nervous energy.

“w-wait, hold on…” he stammers, his voice cracking with a mix of excitement and apprehension. His eyes dart from the tie to your face, wide and searching. “are you gonna tie me up?” he asks, the words tumbling out in a flustered rush, his hands hovering uncertainly as he tries to figure out your intentions.

you smile, relishing in his flustered state, your eyes glinting with mischief as you lean in closer, letting the tie dangle teasingly in your hand. “your wrists, lu.” you repeat, your voice low and commanding, each word deliberate and leaving no room for argument.

luigi swallows hard, his flush deepening as he hesitates for a split second before slowly extending his wrists toward you, his movements tentative but obedient, his eyes never leaving yours. the vulnerability in his gaze sends a thrill through you as you take his wrists, your fingers brushing his skin as you loop the purple tie around them. with practiced ease, you knot the silky fabric tightly enough to secure his wrists together, the tie binding him firmly but not painfully.

still smiling, you tug the loose end of the tie and lean forward, guiding it toward the bed frame. you loop it through a slat, pulling it taut and tying it off with a deft knot, anchoring his bound wrists above his head.

he tugs lightly, testing the restraint, his breath quickening as he realizes he’s truly at your mercy, his nervous excitement palpable in the charged air between you.

his eyes meet yours, they’re wide and doe like, shimmering with a mix of vulnerability and anticipation. the flush still lingers on his cheeks as he waits, anticipating your next move.

without a word, you lean over to the bedside table, your fingers brushing against the drawer before pulling it open. you retrieve the familiar black blindfold he wore last christmas, its sleek fabric slightly worn but still striking, a teasing reminder of that heated holiday night.

holding it up, you let it dangle between your fingers, the sight of it drawing a soft, nervous whine from luigi as his eyes widen further, the tension between you sparking with new possibilities.

you lean in, your voice dropping to a low, seductive purr as you hold the blindfold just out of his grasp, relishing the growing tension. “want you to wear this for me,” you say, your tone a mix of command and playful tease, your eyes locked on his, urging him to surrender completely. “can you do that?”

luigi groans, his large, vulnerable eyes glinting with desperate longing. “god, please,” he gasps, his voice shaky but burning with need, “put it on me.”

your smirk eases into a gentle smile as you lean in, the black blindfold gliding through your fingers with careful precision. you slowly drape it over his head, settling the soft fabric over his eyes, adjusting it until it fits securely, enveloping him in darkness.

he gasps softly at the sensation, his body tensing for a moment before softening under your touch. with the blindfold secure, you cradle his face gently, your thumbs tracing along his jaw as you lean forward and press a lingering, tender kiss to his lips, feeling the warmth and the way he tilts toward you, seeking more.

easing back just enough to speak, your voice is soft, threaded with concern. “is this alright?” you ask, your fingers resting lightly on his cheeks, studying his face for any hint of uncertainty, though his quickened breaths suggest his willing surrender.

his eyes meet yours, warm and certain. “yes,” he murmurs, his voice low and earnest, before a small, pleading smile tugs at his lips. “kiss me again.”

you crack a smile, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw as you lean closer, the blindfold already snug around his head, cloaking him in darkness. his breath catches, anticipation evident in the slight parting of his lips. you press your mouth to his, starting with a slow, teasing brush of lips, savoring the softness. his hands grip your waist, fingers digging in as you deepen the kiss, your tongue sliding against his, hungry and insistent.

the blindfold sharpens his senses, drawing a soft moan from him as he leans into you, the kiss growing fervent, heat surging between you with every breathless, electric moment.

luigi’s wrists, bound tightly above his head, strain against the restraints, leaving him helpless to touch you. your lips crash against his in a fierce, consuming rhythm, tongues entwining as you lean into him, the heat of his body radiating against yours. a shaky whimper spills from him, vibrating against your mouth as you deepen the kiss, your fingers grazing his jaw to tilt his head just so.

another soft whimper escapes, his breath ragged and uneven, as the intensity surges, each kiss more ravenous and overwhelming, the blindfold amplifying every sensation into a torrent of fiery need.

you pull back just enough to catch your breath, and slowly, you slip off the blue bali shirt you’re wearing. its soft fabric brushing against your skin as you peel it away, leaving you completely naked.

the cool air prickles your skin, but the heat between you burns hotter. he can’t see you, the blindfold keeping him in darkness, but his sharp intake of breath tells you he senses the shift, the faint rustle of fabric betraying your movements.

luigi’s head tilts, straining to catch any sound, and his voice breaks the silence, low and laced with desperate curiosity. “what’re you doing?” he asks, the words quivering as his bound wrists jerk against the restraints.

you smirk, choosing not to respond immediately, and slide closer, settling directly in front of him. you spread your legs wide, and oh god… the sight of him… blindfolded, wrists tied above his head, utterly vulnerable, his chest heaving with ragged breaths… sends a surge of desire through you.

“god, look at you…” you murmur, your voice low and sultry, “all tied up, blindfolded… it makes me so fucking wet.”

your fingers glide down your body, parting your thighs further as you touch yourself, stroking slowly at first, then with more urgency, your slick fingers circling and teasing your clit. the wet sounds of your movements fill the air, deliberate and provocative, and his head snaps toward the noise, a choked whimper spilling from his lips as he realizes what you’re doing.

“you fucking monster…” he groans, his voice a mix of frustration and raw need, his wrists straining against the binds. his chest heaves, and he pleads, “at least let me watch, please…”

you smirk, leaning closer but keeping your touch steady, the heat of your own arousal building. “no,” you purr, voice low and teasing, “but you can listen. if you’re good, who knows… i might reward you after.”

the promise hangs, heavy and teasing, as you continue to touch yourself with brazen confidence. your fingers circle your swollen clit with slow, deliberate rubs, the slick, sensitive bud throbbing beneath your touch. the soft, wet sounds of your movements cut through the silence, each calculated glide amplifying the raw heat building within you and charging the air with anticipation.

every wet glide of your fingers over your clit pulls a shaky, desperate whimper from luigi, his body squirming with helpless need.

“stop squirming.” you command, your voice low and teasing, fingers pausing for a moment as you lean closer, letting the weight of your words hang in the air.

“i can’t help it,” he gasps, his voice thick with desperation, a pleading edge cutting through. “at least… ride my face… let me taste that sweet cunt.” he begs, the words tumbling out, raw and needy, his lips parting as he waits, every muscle taut with anticipation.

you let out a soft, teasing chuckle, your fingers pausing briefly as you lean in, your breath warm against his ear. “there’ll be plenty of time for that later.” you murmur, voice low and commanding, dripping with intent as you settle back, leaving his plea unanswered for now.

positioned just in front of him, thighs spread wide, a trembling moan spills from you, needy and low, as you slide two fingers into your sopping hole, curling them against your pulsing walls, pumping with a slow, deliberate rhythm that quickens, the obscene squelch of your soaked pussy filling the air.

your hips rock faintly, fingers diving deeper, slick with creamy arousal, each thrust coaxing another breathy moan from your throat. as you touch yourself, your eyes catch the noticeable tent in luigi’s sweatpants, the fabric straining against his obvious arousal, a sight that makes your lips curl with satisfaction.

luigi stays still in front of you, his body rigid with restraint, but his tortured whimpers and ragged groans escape, each of your moans drawing a pained sound from him. his bound wrists remain fixed, tied to the bed frame, the blindfold heightening every wet sound your slick fingers, your soft, pornagraphic moans, pushing him to the brink of insanity as he’s forced to listen, unable to move or see.

the coil in your stomach tightens, a hot, pulsing knot of pleasure growing more intense with every stroke. your fingers work faster, plunging deeper into your drenched core, curling against that sensitive spot that makes your thighs tremble.

the slick sound of your arousal grows louder, mingling with your escalating moans, each one more desperate and unrestrained than the last as you chase the edge. your hips buck slightly, your clit throbbing under the relentless circles of your thumb, the heat building to an unbearable peak.

luigi’s moans grow more frantic, his voice cracking with need as he listens to your every sound… the wet glide of your fingers, the shuddering gasps spilling from your lips. his whimpers turn into low, continuous groans, raw and helpless, the tent in his sweatpants twitching as your pleasure drives him further into a haze of tortured longing, his body trembling with the effort to stay still under the weight of his own denied desire.

the knot in your core tightens, a searing pulse of ecstasy swelling with each thrust of your fingers. you drive them deeper, quicker, curling against that sweet spot within your soaked core, your slick walls gripping them tightly.

the heat surges, your body shaking as you hover on the brink of release, every nerve sparking with bliss. leaning forward slightly, you taunt him, your voice a low, sultry tease.

“do you like listening to me play with my pussy, lu?” you ask, the words dripping with provocation as you let a particularly loud moan follow, pushing him further into his torment.

luigi’s response is a ragged, trembling groan, his voice thick with desperation. “yes… fuck, yes…” he chokes out, the words raw and fervent.

you smirk, his begging fueling your fire. your fingers keep working between your thighs, now rubbing your swollen, slick clit with slow, purposeful circles, the lewd sounds echoing in the charged quiet. a low, sultry moan spills from you, bold and unrestrained, as the pleasure surges, your hips grinding against your hand to chase the growing heat.

the sight of him… blindfolded and at your mercy… pushes you closer to the brink. your moans turn wild, loud and desperate, as your fingers move faster, drenched in your arousal, the tension inside you building to a breaking point.

you gasp sharply, and your body wracks with violent spasms as a ferocious orgasm rips through you, your fingers saturated with your dripping juices, frantically grinding against your swollen, pulsating clit as your hips thrash uncontrollably, milking every last convulsive wave of pleasure.

the obscene, sloppy noise of your soaking wet release echoes loudly, a brazen symphony of your climax. luigi lets out a tortured, animalistic groan at the sound, his body convulsing wildly against the unyielding restraints.

a raw, choking cry bursts from him as he comes hard in his pants, a hot, sticky flood surging through the fabric, the drenched, darkened patch spreading lewdly across his crotch and thighs, his blindfolded face twisted in frantic, helpless surrender as the vivid sound of your explosive orgasm obliterates his restraint, driving him into a shuddering, messy climax.

your gaze locks onto the glistening wet spot plastered against his sweatpants, the material clinging tightly to his skin, outlining every detail. a wicked smirk curls your lips as you lean in.

“did you just cum in your pants?” you taunt, voice dripping with playful mockery, your fingers grazing the edge of his jaw, feeling the faint stubble under your touch.

luigi’s chest heaves, his blindfolded face flushing crimson beneath the silk. “couldn’t help it,” he groans, his voice rough and thick with desperate need. “i don’t even need to see you, your pretty fucking noises alone are enough to get me off.” he confesses, each word trembling with sheer honesty.

his head tilts toward you, lips parted, quivering with anticipation. “kiss me please.” he begs, his voice soft yet laced with urgent hunger.

your lips smash against his in a ravenous, unrestrained kiss, tongues clashing in a wet, fervent tangle. his bound wrists jerk against the restraints above his head, a muffled whimper vibrating against your mouth as you press your body against his, deepening the kiss.

your teeth nip at his lower lip, tugging lightly, while your tongue explores his mouth with possessive intensity. his desperate moans blend with yours, the heat of his ragged breaths mingling in the air, the blindfold amplifying every sensation as you consume each other in a sloppy, heated frenzy.

pulling back just enough to catch your breath, you sport a devilish, shit eating grin, your eyes gleaming with mischief as you study his flushed, helpless state.

“aww, poor baby, want me to get those soaked pants off for you?” you tease, your voice low and dripping with provocation, your fingers lingering tantalizingly close to his waistband, brushing the damp fabric.

“please baby,” he begs, his voice cracking with raw hunger, desperation. “take them off, please, just fuck me, i’m begging you.” he gasps, his body trembling violently, blindfolded and yours to use.

his words spill out in a frantic, pleading rush, each syllable soaked in aching, unrestrained need as he strains toward you, craving your touch with every fiber of his being.

your grin widens, a predatory edge to it as you slide your hands to his waistband, fingers hooking into the damp, cum soaked sweatpants. you tug them down slowly, the fabric peeling away from his skin, revealing his drenched calvin kleins underneath, the outline of his cock straining obscenely against the tight material. you drag the sweatpants past his thighs, letting them pool at his ankles, before turning to the underwear.

hooking your fingers under the waistband, you pull his underwear down, the sticky fabric resisting briefly before giving way, freeing his cock. it springs up, thick and impossibly hard, easily eight inches long, veined and glistening with a mix of precum and the remnants of his prior release. the head is swollen, flushed a deep, angry red, pulsing with need.

your breath catches at the sight, a rush of heat flooding your core as you take in its size, the sheer weight of it making your thighs clench instinctively. you feel an aching urge, your body thrumming with the urge to claim him, to feel every inch of him stretching you open.

you shift forward, climbing over him, your knees bracketing his hips as you straddle him. his blindfolded face tilts up, sensing your movement, a shaky whine escaping his lips. your slick folds brush against the tip of his cock, teasing, and his body jerks beneath you, a desperate groan spilling out.

slowly, torturously, you lower yourself, guiding his thick length to your entrance. the blunt head presses against your dripping pussy, and you sink down, inch by agonizing inch, feeling the delicious, burning stretch as he fills you. your walls clench around him, slick and tight, as you take him deeper, the sensation overwhelming his size splitting you open, every vein and ridge dragging against your sensitive inner walls.

you moan, loud and unrestrained, your hands bracing on his chest as you bottom out, his cock buried to the hilt, your clit grinding against his pelvis. the fullness is intoxicating, sending shivers through you as you pause, savoring the way he throbs inside you, his bound wrists straining and his blindfolded face contorted in helpless, desperate need.

you begin to ride him slowly, lifting your hips just enough to let his veined cock slide partway out before sinking back down, each deliberate motion making your walls clench tightly around him. the slow drag of his length inside your sensitive cunt is exquisite, a simmering pleasure that makes you nearly scream, your hands splayed across his chest for balance.

“oh baby… baby…” luigi whines, his voice high and frantic, dripping with desperation. “fucking incredible…” a booming, shuddering moan spills from him, his blindfolded head tilting as if to follow your presence, his body trembling beneath you.

the sinful sounds of your pussy gliding over his cock mingle with his desperate whimpers, each slow, torturous thrust coaxing more plaintive noises from him. your chest nearly brushes against his, the intimate closeness amplifying the heat between you.

“feel that, angel?” you purr, your voice low and teasing, laced with a seductive edge. “i’m taking my time with you.” a soft, throaty moan escapes you, mingling with his desperate sounds.

luigi whines, a high, frantic sound, his blindfolded head tilting as if chasing your voice. “please, go faster,” he begs, his voice cracking with need. “i can’t take it, please, fuck, faster!” another loud, shuddering moan spills from him, his body trembling beneath you.

you laugh at his pleading, but his desperation awakens something in you. “aww, want it faster lu?” you tease, your voice dripping with control as you shift your pace. you slam your hips down harder, now riding him with relentless, ferocious speed, your pussy swallowing his thick cock in rapid, greedy thrusts.

you moan loudly, unrestrained, your nails digging into his chest, leaving crimson marks. luigi’s moans turn into a continuous, broken wail, his body jerking beneath you, wrists straining against the binds. “oh i love you… i love you… fuck, i love you!” he cries, his voice hoarse, each word punctuated by a desperate, booming moan as his face contorts in helpless, overwhelmed surrender, consumed by the intensity of your ruthless rhythm.

your noises grow wilder, untamed, as the pleasure surges within you. “my sweet boy, i love you too,” you gasp, voice thick with passion, quivering with the heat of the moment. leaning closer, your body tantalizingly near his, you guide your left breast to his parted lips, the soft, heavy curve brushing his mouth.

“suck.” you command, voice low and laced with authority, and he complies instantly, his lips closing around your nipple with ravenous hunger. his tongue swirls, hot and unyielding, sucking deeply, the sensation sending sharp, electric sparks to your core. his muffled groans vibrate against your skin, loud and needy, as he draws your breast deeper into his mouth.

the burning stretch of his size, the way his veined length drags against your pulsing inner walls, is nearly overwhelming, your body trembling with the heavenly feeling. your noises intertwine with his own, a symphony of desire, as you ride him harder, faster, your left breast still in his mouth, his desperate sucking driving you wild.

luigi’s voice breaks as he gasps, “oh my god, i’m close… fuck!” his words are laced with desperation, his body trembling beneath you, the blindfold amplifying his surrender to the overwhelming pleasure.

your own climax builds, the molten coil in your core tightening to a breaking point, your walls fluttering around his cock as you grind harder. “i’m close too,” you moan, voice shaky with need, your clit throbbing against his pelvis. “baby, cum for me.”

the command pushes him over the edge. he lets out one final loud, broken moan, his hips jerking upward as he cums fast, his thick, hot seed spilling deep inside you, pulse after pulse flooding your core. the sensation of his release, the way his cock throbs and spurts, triggers your own orgasm.

your pussy clenches around his length tighter than ever, milking him as you cum, your slick walls spasming violently, drenching his shaft in a gush of your juices. your loud, shuddering screams fill the room, mingling with his desperate cries, your body shaking as waves of pleasure crash through you, your clit pulsing against him, your core gripping him so tightly it’s almost painful.

his seed and your slick mix, leaking out around his cock, dripping down his balls and pooling beneath you as you ride out the intense, shuddering climax together, lost in the raw, consuming heat of each other.

as the aftershocks of your orgasm begin to fade, your breathing heavy and ragged, your fingers gently find the edge of the black blindfold. slowly, you slide it off his face, revealing his flushed, sweat dampened features. his eyes flutter open, and the moment they land on you, they light up with a mix of awe and adoration, sparkling as if he’s seeing you for the first time.

the sight of your flushed skin, your tousled hair, and the glistening evidence of your shared pleasure seems to captivate him, his gaze drinking you in with unrestrained devotion.

you smile softly, your hands moving to the purple tie binding his wrists. with careful, deliberate movements, you loosen the knot, freeing his hands from the bed frame. once unbound, you toss the silky tie aside, letting it fall carelessly to the floor.

luigi’s arms, now free, immediately reach for you, his hands warm and eager as he pulls you down into a close, tender cuddle. his chest heaves beneath you, his heart still racing as he wraps his arms tightly around you, holding you like he never wants to let go.

as you settle against him, his soft cock slips free from your cunt, a trail of his seed and your juices leaking out, warm and sticky against your thighs. luigi lets out a soft, content sigh, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along your back as he nuzzles his face into your hair, his breath warm against your skin. the intimacy of the moment wraps you both in a quiet, blissful cocoon, your bodies pressed close, hearts beating in sync as you bask in the afterglow of your “session”.

after a moment, he shifts slightly, his lips brushing against your temple as he lets out a low, husky chuckle. “you know…” he murmurs, his voice still rough from exertion but laced with a playful warmth, “you should tie me up and blindfold me more often.”

his words carry a glint of teasing, but the way his arms tighten around you and the soft, appreciative glint in his eyes tell you he means it, already relishing the memory of being so completely at your mercy. he pulls you even closer, his smile pressing against your skin as he waits for your response, the quiet moment filled with shared affection and lingering heat.

you giggle. “maybe i should.”

──── ୨୧ ──── ──── ୨୧ ────

woulda had this out wayyy sooner but erm certain people from a certain website were attacking us LMFAOOO but i hope u all enjoy this!! pls lmk what u think 😋😋

previous work | masterlist

[aleksatia]

How would he ask you to prom? 🎭🔥

☀️ Xavier – The Silent Chess Game

It starts in the middle of history class. You’re sitting next to him, half-listening to the lecture, when a folded note lands on your desk.

Your gaze flickers to Xavier. He doesn’t look at you. Doesn’t acknowledge it.

Curious, you open it.

"Prom is in three weeks. I assume you don’t have a date yet."

You frown, scribbling back. "Why do you assume that?"

You slide it over. He unfolds it, scans the message, and smirks—just barely.

A moment later, the note slides back.

"Because if you did, I would know."

Your fingers tighten around the paper. He keeps writing.

"Wear something elegant. I’ll handle the rest."

Your jaw drops. "You just decided this without asking?" you whisper.

Finally, he turns his head slightly, his cool blue eyes meeting yours. "I just asked."

…You don’t have a comeback. And worse? You don’t say no.

☃️ Zayne – The ‘This Was Never a Question’ Move

You’re in the library, flipping through notes when a shadow falls over the table. You don’t need to look up. You already know who it is.

Zayne drops into the chair across from you, smooth and effortless. No greeting. No build-up. Just a simple, precise action—he slides his phone toward you.

The screen? A digital ticket for prom. Two tickets. Your name already written on one.

You stare at it. Then at him.

"This is presumptuous," you say.

He doesn’t blink. "Is it?"

"You just assumed I’d say yes?"

He exhales, tilting his head slightly. "No. I just accounted for all possible outcomes and made the most logical decision."

"You calculated our prom chances?"

He exhales like you’re exhausting. "Would you prefer something more dramatic? Should I set up a fireworks display?"

You smirk. "That’d be funny."

A pause. Then—he actually pulls out his phone.

"Wait—wait, you’re not serious," you gasp.

His lips twitch. "Say yes, and I’ll cancel the order."

…You say yes.

🧜‍♂️ Rafayel – The Artist’s Declaration

You don’t know about the painting.

Not until the day of the art exhibit in the main hall. Students walk through, admiring different works—and then, suddenly, the crowd gathers in one spot.

Curious, you push through—and your breath catches.

Because there, at the center of the exhibit, is a massive portrait. Of you.

In a gown. In soft lighting. Painted with an artistry so breathtakingly delicate, so achingly familiar, that you don’t need to read the name to know who created it.

And then, behind you, a warm voice murmurs, "You like it?"

You spin. Rafayel stands there, arms crossed, expression unreadable—except for the tiny hint of a smirk in his eyes.

"This—" you gesture at the painting, "this is…"

"An invitation." He tilts his head, studying your reaction. "I figured if you saw it first, you wouldn’t say no."

You open your mouth. Close it. "This is how you ask someone to prom?"

He grins. "It’s how I ask you."

…You hate that it works.

🦅 Sylus – The Untouchable Kingmaker

Nobody knows how it happened, but the prom theme this year is exactly what Sylus wanted. The event? Exclusive. Invitation-only. And guess who’s controlling the invitations?

Not the principal. Not the student council. Him.

Your invitation doesn’t come in the form of a question. It’s an inevitability.

One evening, you find a sleek black envelope inside your locker. Inside? A single black feather. A message written in elegant, looping script.

🖤 "You’re coming to prom with me. Wear something that makes it worth my time. – S"

A rustle makes you look up. At the end of the hall, perched casually near the window, a raven sits, tilting its head. Watching.

And when you finally turn to look for him? Sylus is already gone.

🔥 Caleb – The ‘Help Me, But Actually I Win’ Move

He’s waiting for you by the lockers, arms crossed, trying (and failing) to look casual.

"Hey." He shifts, eyes flicking away for a second before locking onto yours. "I got a problem."

You raise an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yeah," he grunts, running a hand through his hair. "There are like… five girls trying to ask me to prom." He sighs, dramatically suffering. "And you’ve got those weird guys hovering around you, too."

Your eyes narrow. "And?"

He smirks. "So, let’s fix it. You go with me. I go with you. We both get peace and quiet." His voice is easy, playful—but the way his fingers twitch at his sides tells a different story.

You tilt your head. "You sure you don’t actually want to go with one of them?"

His jaw tightens. "I don’t want to go with them."

He clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean, come on, it’s an easy deal. Right?"

Yeah. Easy. If you don’t count the way his ears turn red when you finally say yes.

[gigabyte-flare]

Insatiable (Part 1)

Summary: You are a researcher for D.S.O. who is responsible for studying Leon Kennedy as Las Plagas overtakes him, maybe even finding a cure. He starts to take a liking to you, too much of a liking to you.

Word Count: 2k

Pairing: yandere plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Extreme violence and gore, biting, dubcon, forced breeding, gross las plagas-y things, death, mentions of un-aliving. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

A/N: Heavily inspired by this artwork by @chanif-art on Tumblr along with Project Scorpion by @tagzpite. Literally could not get this idea out of my head until I wrote it down. Definitely going to be another series. We're also going to pretend D.S.O. was founded way sooner than 2011 k byeeeeee

“I fought a war and I learned how to win, but how do you fight when the enemy’s within?”

You step out of an elevator led by two armed D.S.O. operatives in tactical gear deep underground at HQ, your white lab coat flowing gently as you walk forward. Grasped in your right hand is a voice recorder. You and the operatives go through a series of heavy steel doors leading you into the bowels of the underground facility.

Is all this really necessary? you think to yourself as you’re led deeper into the abyss.

Finally, you’re brought to a single cell enclosed with clear polycarbonate panels with steel reinforcements. In this cell was a man sitting in a chair that was bolted into the floor, his hands chained behind his back and his legs chained to the legs of the chair. This man is Agent Leon S. Kennedy. You approach one of the panels closest to the steel door keeping him in. 

Switching the voice recorder on and bringing it to your mouth, you state your name before continuing, “The year is 2004. The subject is field agent Leon Scott Kennedy, currently 27 years old and exhibiting the late stages of Las Plagas infestation, his body is covered in dark, vein like marks. Subject is currently slumped over in the chair. He appears to be catatonic.”

Bringing the recorder away from your mouth, you motion to one of the operatives to guard the door. You input a passcode into a key panel next to the door. It lets out a hiss as it slowly swings open. As you step in, the door swings closed and locks.

You bring the recorder back to your mouth and continue, “Agent Kennedy?”

You watch as Leon slowly lifts his head, his face completely covered in the dark veins, his once blue eyes now have a slight red tinge to them, it makes your stomach twist in sorrow, he used to be such a handsome man.

“Subject appears to still have some cognitive ability left as he immediately recognized his name. We’re still trying to understand how he hasn’t broken down now that the alpha Plagas host, Osmund Saddler, has been destroyed--”

“I’m right here, you know,” Leon suddenly spoke, making you jump.

“Ag-Agent Kennedy!” you reply, eyes wide in shock that he’s able to speak. 

“Please, just call me Leon, sweetheart.”

His dark gaze seemed to pierce straight into your very soul. You collect yourself, clearing your throat.

“How are you feeling, Leon?”

Leon looks down at himself, tugging gently at his restraints before looking back up at you, “all things considered, I actually feel pretty damn good.”

“That’s… good, I guess,” you reply, your nervousness clear in your voice. 

You hadn’t prepared for this, every researcher that attempted to interact with him got absolutely nothing out of him, hence why they sent you down. You argued with them, not seeing the point but now you began to realize that the difference was they were all men, you were a woman. 

“Awww… there’s no need to be so nervous, sweetheart, it’s just me, Leon Kennedy. I promise I don’t bite,” he says, a small smirk appearing on his lips, “hard.”

“Do you know where you are and why you’re here, Leon?”

He lets out a chuckle, “yeah, I’m in D.S.O.’s research facility because I’m turning into a monster.”

“That’s putting it rather bluntly, but yes, that’s correct.”

“About time they sent someone cute down here to visit me, the rest were much too dull. If I wasn’t chained up, I’d ask you out to dinner and a movie.”

You feel yourself blushing, “that’s… very kind of you Leon, however that won’t be happening anytime soon, I’m afraid.”

“That’s a shame, because I’d love to take you to bed and make you scream my name,” he growls, a sinister grin overtaking him.

Your heart is pounding out of your chest as your eyes widen at him. This wasn’t like Leon at all, the parasite was clearly twisting his thoughts. You panic, turning around to motion the operatives to open the door and let you out. As soon as you’re out of the cell, you briskly walk away from the cell as fast as you can, not once looking back. You could have swore you heard Leon’s laugh echo after you. 

“I am not going back down there, are you insane?!”

“You’re the first person he has actually spoken to since he got back from Spain,” the lead researcher, Bryan said, setting your voice recorder down onto his desk. 

“So? Your point? I’m not doing it and that’s final!”

“Look, this recording gives us valuable data on him, it’s clear that the Plagas inside him is mutating into a more dominant strain. It must know it’s the last one left,” Bryan said, pleading with you.

“So we’re just going to poke and prod him like he’s some guinea pig? Leon wouldn’t have wanted that! Are you sure there’s no way we can cure him?”

“If we attempt to remove the parasite now, it will kill him--”

“Then let’s put him out of his misery, this isn’t right!”

The silence between you was deafening. After a few minutes, Bryan finally spoke.

“Judging by this recording, the Plagas has one thing on its mind.”

“Which is…?”

Bryan looked up at you, letting out a heavy sigh, “reproduction.”

“All the more reason I shouldn’t be going back down there!”

“He’ll be restrained and you’ll have at least two operatives with you at all times, you’ll be safe,” Bryan leans forward on his desk, folding his hands together, “the data you collect from Agent Kennedy is invaluable in finding out how the parasite works, just… go down and talk to him. I know yesterday was unnerving but there is one thing he said that is true, he’s just Leon Kennedy. He’s in there somewhere, even if the Plagas is influencing him.”

You cross your arms, staring at the floor, letting out a frustrated sigh before looking back up at Bryan, “fine. But I want hazard pay.”

“Consider it done, here’s your recorder back,” Bryan says, sliding the recorder across the desk towards you. 

You grab the recorder of the desk, turning on your heel to walk out of Bryan’s office.

“You are to report down there in an hour, you hear me?” Bryan calls after you just as you walk out the door.

You fight the urge to flip him off, thinking better of it. You walk down the hall into your office, getting your lab coat back on and sitting at your desk. You press play on the recorder, listening back on your interaction with Leon several times. There was one part where you repeated it several times, sending chills down your spine.

“That’s a shame, because I’d love to take you to bed and make you scream my name.”

How long had Leon been locked down here, chained to this chair? How many men in lab coats came and tried to talk to him? He knew he was a lost cause, why were they keeping him alive? How many times did he wish death would come and take him in his sleep?

But then you came, awakening something in him.

Your natural scent filled the cell completely, so many hours had gone by and he could still smell you and you smelled absolutely divine. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, the way your voice was so sweet yet filled with drive and intelligence. The way you blushed when he flirted with you. The way your heartbeat began to race at just the mere mention of taking you.

God you were so cute when you ran off, all flustered, he couldn’t help but laugh; he hadn’t felt alive like that in so long. His reminiscing was interrupted suddenly when he could hear footsteps coming down the hall. Lifting his head, he practically began to salivate when he saw you had returned.

You came back to me, baby, where you belong…

“The subject appears to be conscious and alert, he watched us as soon as we were in his line of sight,” you say as he watches you speak into the voice recorder. 

With a hiss, the door opens and you step inside. Leon breathed in deep, taking in the smell of you, you smelled even better than you had yesterday. He feels his cock twitch in his pants in excitement. He watches as the door behind you closes and locks, just like it had yesterday, trapping you in here with him.

Curse these fucking chains…

“You’re more lively today, Leon, care to tell me why?” you ask, your voice flat and void of any emotion.

“How about you tell me why you smell so nice,” Leon replies, grinning at you, drool running from his mouth down his chin.

He watches you shift uncomfortably before you continue, “I’m not answering that.”

Leon scoffs, shaking his head, “then I’m not going to talk to you, sweetheart.”

You take a deep breath, “if I’m going to be honest, I don’t know why I smell so nice to you, Leon.”

His red eyes scan up and down your form, imagining it without all those needless clothes. Imagining himself pinning you to the floor and fucking you stupid. A strange, clicking sound came out of him from the back of his throat as he pulled aggressively on the chains holding him to the chair. He watches as the two men with guns outside become alert. Leon lets out a low growl as he glares at them.

You turn to face the men, signaling to them to stand down. He watches them both relax before you return your attention to him. 

“The transformation appears to be progressing faster than expected,” you say into the recorder, “are you in any pain, Leon?”

Leon slowly shakes his head, “no, just unbelievably horny, doll.”

“We have reason to believe the subject is displaying an increased libido due to the fact that the parasite inside him knows it’s the last of its kind.”

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here, that’s awfully rude.”

“Fine,” you say, lowering the recorder away from your mouth, “what do you want to talk about, Leon?”

“You should ask those nice boys out there to take these chains off me,” Leon purrs, staring at you longingly.

“Absolutely not, Leon,” you reply, crossing your arms, “those chains are there for my safety as well as your own, at least until we can get the Plagas out of your body.” “I think I’m too far gone for that, don’t you think, sweetheart?”

You take a deep breath and exhale loudly, the sorrow clear in your eyes, “I am so sorry that this is what you have become, Leon.”

“I’m not,” Leon says as that sinister grin overtakes him again; he starts to chuckle.

“Leon,” you begin, stepping closer and kneeling down to be eye level with Leon, “I know the real you is in there, somewhere, you have to fight it.”

Your scent was almost enough to drive him crazy, you were delectable. He licks his lips, that clicking sound coming out from this throat again. His eyes are locked on you and he sees you glance down briefly before looking back into his eyes. He knew what you were looking at, you were looking at the noticeable bulge in his cargo pants.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?” Leon says, his body visibly trembling.

You don’t respond, you simply stare at him with that same sad look in your eyes. How could you not want him as much as he wanted you. His lips curl into a snarl.

“Let me FUCK YOU!” he growls, lunging forward, the bolts in the chair letting out a loud screech as they’re bent slightly.

You stumble back, falling backwards onto the floor as Leon continues to struggle violently. The two men with guns come rushing in, one of them grabbing you off the floor while the other shoots a tranquilizer dart into Leon’s thigh. Leon feels the effects almost instantly, his body becomes limp as he becomes sluggish, his mouth hanging agape as he watches you get led out of the room by the two men, the door shutting and locking behind them as you’re led away.

“Mine,” he whispers in his last moments of consciousness, “all mine.”

Part 2

[amandabbbbb]

summary: stalker!rafe who saves pogue surfer!reader from the obx storm!

tw: stalker!rafe, dark!rafe but that’s just him tho, a storm, idk anything about boats or surfing

word count: 564

you were used to big waves. surfing is your life. you are no professional but you thought you could handle the obxs storms waves but turns out the roughness of the salt water was too much for you.

“hey hey it’s not safe out there come here i can help you get home,” a tall man yelled from his yacht, reaching out a hand for you. you felt stupid being out in a storm. when you lost the pogues and got pushed out to sea you knew your idea had become deadly so the strangers help might save you.

“here lemme help you. you are way too delicate to be out here in these tough waves, pretty girl,” rafe smirked, pulling you out of the water.

“i’m fine but i guess i’m used to smaller waves,” you said with an insecure giggle. “i’m y/n. um i live on the cut. you said you could get me home?” you said with a nervous smile, never meeting this handsome man before.

“why don’t you stay a while y/n? i got fresh clothes that you can wear and beer and snacks if you’re hungry. seriously whatever you want. i’m rafe.”

rafe was so excited to be around you. he’d been watching you surf from his yacht for months. staring at your body from a far wasn’t doing it for him anymore so when you took off your wetsuit rafe audibly moaned, standing up fast and coughing staring at your body in the pink bikini he only saw from a far distance.

“thanks, rafe but i need to get home. you’re really sweet but my friends will be worried since i got pulled into sea by the waves.” rafe made a fast excuse looking out on the horizon.

“i don’t think my boat will make it to shore. it’s just pouring now and it uh l-looks real bad. we um should probably just stay out here for the night.”

“are you sure because i think a yacht this huge can handle a storm like this.” you laughed staring at him confused.

“you think you know yachts y/n? you’re a pogue, stick to your surfboard,” rafe said laughing. you didn’t like his obnoxious joke but brushed it off.

“ya whatever, i’m a pogue. so what? can i get some clothes? i’m about to turn into a ice cube.” you rolled your eyes while walking down to the cabin exploring the living space of the boat. it was a scene straight out of a frat house nightmare, old beer cans and porn magazines.

amongst the clutter, a picture caught your eye: a girl in a pink bikini, surfing on a vibrant wave, laid provocatively on his bed. you reached out to inspect it, but he snatched it away before you could get a closer look “umm so you live here, rafe?”

“does it matter?” rafe frowned as you put on his old shirt and sarah’s sweatpants over your bikini, you asked “no but um where am i gonna sleep stranger? you know this is a major stranger danger situation right now.” you laughed, pointing at the both of you.

he smirked at your bubbly personality that he’d seen from afar as he would watch you at kook and pogue bonfire parties.

“next to me,” rafe said, watching your every movement. “no, that’d be weird. i don’t even know you. i’ll sleep on the couch, it’s no big deal,” you said so casually. mad at your rejection, rafe stood up, hovering over you.

“just seriously y/n. you can trust me ok? just stay in the bed with me, it’s cold out,” rafe said with intensity. as you noticed his blue eyes getting darker and his body getting closer, he gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. “you know,” he whispered, his voice sending ripples of unease through you, “you always fidget with your necklace when you’re nervous, your fingers trace its outline when you’re anxious.”

your heart skipped a beat. how did he know about that? it was like he could read your mind. feeling exposed, you backed away. his gaze locked into yours, making you feel vulnerable and like he had uncovered parts of you that were meant to stay hidden. you noticed the storm seemed to be calming down since rafe pulled you up on the cameron’s yacht. a perfect getaway.

“you know what uh i- i can handle these waves. don’t worry about me. thanks for helping me though,” you said as you bent over to pick up your wetsuit and surfboard. he grabbed your bicep forcefully pulling you up. he thought of every excuse but couldn’t manage to create one.

“no, no you can’t leave ok.” rafe stated, grabbing you by the wrist firmly. “yo dude, don’t fucking touch me. i don’t even know you.” as you scoff at him, you look deep into his blue eyes and recognize him, letting his rough hands grip onto your waist. you couldn’t put your finger on where from.

“dont fucking dude me. god you are such a pogue. y’know you do know me. i’m rafe. i’m someone you can trust y/n. imma proactive person. if i wasn’t there to help you get out of those waves who knows what could’ve happened to you. i protect you. i’ve been protecting you for months for fucks sake and you don’t appreciate me.”

a/n: idk maybe a part 2 is needed??? send me ur thots!

[vunblr]

Chains of Fate

Pairing: Destroyer!Chris x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Fluff. Smut. Unprotected sex.

Summary: A florist keeps having trouble with her bicycle, and Chris, her rugged mechanic neighbor, is always available to help. Or isn’t he?

Word Count: About 6.8k.

notes: Yup, this story isn’t about Bucky. After reading this story by @sashaisready featuring Destroyer!Chris the other day, I had an overwhelming urge to write something with him. It was an itch I just had to scratch and well, here we are.

When she closed the shop's door behind her, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows over the street. The aroma of the last plants she touched still clung to her hands as she fumbled to lock up. The bicycle leaned against the wall, her reliable companion in her daily routine.

Except today, it wasn’t so reliable. As soon as she set her hand on the handlebar, she noticed the chain dangling uselessly, smudged with grease, and utterly dislodged.

"Seriously?" she muttered, brushing a strand of hair from her face and crouching to inspect the damage. Her attempt to wrestle the chain back into place was met with resistance and a smear of black grease across her palm. With a resigned sigh, she glanced toward the mechanic shop next door.

The large garage doors were half-open, spilling the faint sound of a radio murmuring some old rock ballad. She hesitated. The other workers had surely gone home already, leaving the place unusually quiet.

The thought of asking him made her nervous and self-conscious. They’d spoken a dozen times, exchanging brief pleasantries when their paths crossed. He always looked like he belonged in an old motorcycle catalog: broad-shouldered with a padlock beard, hair shaved on the sides of his head, and effortlessly self-assured. Also, attractive. Very attractive.

As she predicted, he was still there, leaning against a workbench, the sleeves of his denim jacket cut clean to reveal his tattooed arms. His sharp features and unreadable expression gave him an edge that was as intimidating as magnetic.

Don’t overthink it. Just ask for help, she told herself. Still, her fingers fidgeted nervously as she wheeled the bike toward the shop.

"Hey, Chris?" she called softly.

He looked up, and his piercing blue eyes locked onto hers. For a moment, he simply studied her, then he tossed the rag he’d been holding onto the bench. "What’s up?"

"My bike... The chain came off," she explained, gesturing toward it. "I was hoping you might be able to fix it, if it’s not too much trouble."

His lips curved slightly, a smirk that wasn’t unfriendly but held a flicker of something she couldn’t place. "Bring it here."

She rolled the bike closer, and he took it from her hands, brushing her fingers briefly. He turned it toward the stand, crouching low as he inspected the damage.

"You know," he said without looking up, "you could fix this yourself if you had the right tools."

"I guess I’m not very handy," she admitted softly.

He glanced up, smirking faintly. "Good thing you’ve got me, huh?" before she could answer, he returned his attention to the bike, all muscles flexing as he worked the chain back into place. She found herself mesmerized, gazing at the strength in his forearms and the grease-streaked curve of his jawline.

"Something on your mind?" his voice broke the silence, and her heart jumped.

"No! I mean-" She winced inwardly, caught staring. "Just...thank you. For helping." She glanced around the workshop, her eyes catching on the faint outline of a lipstick kiss smudged on an old coffee cup by a wooden table. Her stomach twisted. She wasn’t stupid, she’d seen the kind of women who came and went from here. Long legged, sun-kissed beauties, wearing barely there shorts, with loud laugh and bold hands.

Not exactly like her.

He stood, rolling his shoulders, the chain now secure in its place. He moved closer, his sharp blue eyes studying her in a way that made her self-conscious again. His smirk softened. "Next time it happens, come straight to me. Don’t try to fix it yourself."

She nodded. "So… how much do I owe you?" she asked after a beat, softer than she intended.

He wiped his hands on his jeans. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" she repeated, a little startled. "I don’t want to take advantage of you,” she stated. “You took the time-"

“Y/n,” he interrupted, his smirk fading into something more serious. “It’s just a bike chain. I’m not charging you for that.”

She bit her lip, unsure how to respond. The way he said her name made something flutter in her chest, and she cursed herself for letting it. She glanced down at her bike, hoping to steady her nerves. "Well, thank you. I really appreciate it."

As he handed her the bike back, his fingers lingered for a moment longer than necessary. "You’re welcome," he murmured, and she could swear his gaze flicked toward her lips.

She tightened her grip on the handlebars, offering him a small, grateful smile before wheeling her bike toward the door. As she turned the corner, she couldn’t help but glance back. He was leaning against the doorway, watching at her.

----------

The following day, she couldn’t focus. Not on the meticulous task of pruning succulents, nor the subtle rearranging of potted lavender displays. Her mind kept drifting back to the workshop next door. Specifically, to Chris.

She bit her lip, hands hovering over a basket of moss she’d been fluffing for far too long. It wasn’t just the gratitude she felt for him fixing her bike, it was the way his voice sounded when he said her name, the fleeting brush of his fingers as he handed her the handlebars, and damn, that stare.

By mid-morning, her resolve solidified. A thank-you was in order, a proper one. And if she were being honest, maybe she wanted an excuse to see him again. As the thought settled in her mind, she absently plucked at a stray leaf from one of her displays, and a memory came to her mind.

It was late summer, she’d been in a corner near the counter of the bakery, debating whether to get a cinnamon scone or stick to her usual croissant, when the doorbell chimed, and Chris strolled inside.

He was hard to miss, even in a crowd. Tall, broad-shouldered, denim jacket slung lazily over one arm. He’d made his way to the counter, nodding a greeting to the baker before ordering a box of assorted treats.

At the time, she’d assumed they weren’t for him. He didn’t seem the type to indulge in baked goods. Maybe the box was for his employees, or one of the women who frequented his workshop. But then, weeks later, she’d seen him again.

It was mid-afternoon, and she’d been sweeping the sidewalk in front of her shop when she noticed him sitting at the curb just down the street. He had the bakery box open on his lap, a brownie in hand, and his expression was uncharacteristically soft.

She had to do a double take, blinking in disbelief. Chris -the intimidating, sharp featured mechanic- was biting into the brownie like a kid savoring his favorite candy. A trace of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, his usual hard edges momentarily softened in the golden light.

She’d stared longer than she should have, her broom forgotten in her hand. The sight had been… endearing, unexpected, and strangely magnetic. It lingered in her mind long after he wiped his fingers on his jeans and walked back to the workshop.

Now, standing in her shop, the memory made her smile. It also gave her an idea. If he had a soft spot for baked goods, why not lean into it?

Decided to give it a try, she flipped the sign on her door to Closed in the afternoon and hurried home. Baking wasn’t exactly her forte, but she could manage something simple. Something thoughtful. She sifted through her cupboards, pulling out cocoa powder, sugar, and butter. Chocolate cupcakes seemed perfect: rich, sweet, and easy enough to make without risking disaster.

The process wasn’t without its hiccups. Flour dusted all over her counter -and somehow her shirt-, and she almost forgot to preheat the oven. But as the cupcakes rose, the warm aroma of chocolate filled her small kitchen, and a satisfied smile spread across her face.

By the time the ganache was swirled on top and the sea salt sprinkled for flair, it was late. She packed the best of the batch carefully into a small box, tying it with twine.

Tomorrow, she thought, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Tomorrow, she’d thank Chris properly. And if she was lucky, maybe she’d get to see him smile like that again.

----------

The next morning, she arrived at her shop earlier than usual, the cupcake box nestled securely in the basket of her bike. Her heart raced as she pedaled through the quiet streets, rehearsing what she might say when she saw him.

As she rounded the corner near the workshop, her eyes immediately landed on Chris. He was standing at the garage doors, fumbling with the heavy lock, a slight scowl on his face. The sight made her smile, seeing someone so self-assured look momentarily frustrated was oddly endearing.

She braked to a gentle stop in front of her flower shop, propping her bike against the wall. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the box and walked toward him.

“Morning, Chris,” she called softly, trying to steady her voice.

He looked up, and is scowl disappeared, replaced by a flicker of surprise. ���Morning,” he replied, his voice gruff from the early hour. “You’re up early.”

“So are you,” she countered, her lips curving into a small smile. She stepped closer, holding the box in front of her. “I, uh… I wanted to thank you for helping me with my bike the other day. Properly, this time.”

His gaze shifted to the box in her hands, one brow quirking slightly. “What’s this?”

She bit her lip, feeling uncharacteristically shy. “Just a little something. I… made you cupcakes.”

Chris blinked, as though trying to process her words. “You baked me cupcakes?” he repeated, his tone hovering between surprise and amusement.

“Yes.” She hesitated, glancing down at the box. “I know it’s not much, but… I really appreciated your help, and I thought… well, you seemed to like sweets, so…”

His lips twitched, the corner pulling into a faint smirk. “You noticed that, huh?”

Her cheeks warmed. “I might’ve seen you at the bakery once or twice.”

Chris chuckled, low and warmly. He reached out, his rough fingers brushing hers as he took the box. “This wasn’t necessary, you know.”

“I wanted to,” she said quickly, meeting his gaze. “It’s just a thank-you.”

For a moment, he studied her with a soft expression that made her stomach flutter. “Well, thank you,” he murmured. He peeped inside the box, then back at her. “I’ll have to try them later. If they’re as good as it looks, I might have to hire you as my personal baker.”

She laughed nervously. “Don’t get your hopes up. Baking isn’t exactly my forte.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said, with a growing smirk.

She shifted on her feet, unsure of what else to say. “Well, I should get back to my shop. Have a good morning.”

“You too.” He murmured. As she turned to leave, she felt his gaze linger, and it took everything in her not to glance back.

----------

It was later than usual when she finally locked up the flower shop. The delivery truck earlier in the afternoon brought far more than she’d expected, and sorting through the dozens of plants had turned into an all-day affair. She was tired, her hands aching a little from hauling pots and unpacking boxes, but it was a good kind of tired, that came with satisfaction.

She grabbed her bike from where it was propped against the wall outside and prepared to head home, already looking forward to a quiet dinner and a hot bath. But when she tried to pedal, the resistance was immediate. The familiar, dreaded clink of the chain greeted her ears.

Her brows furrowed. Again?

Her first instinct was to crouch down and take a look, but she paused, remembering Chris’s words: “Next time it happens, come straight to me. Don’t try to fix it yourself.” It had been a direct instruction, accompanied by a pointed look, and though she didn’t like feeling helpless, she also didn’t want to make things worse.

With a reluctant sigh, she wheeled the bike over to the garage next door. The overhead door was still partially open, spilling soft light onto the pavement, though the space beyond looked quiet. She hesitated at the threshold before stepping inside, her voice tentative.

“Chris?”

There was no immediate response, but a moment later, a door creaked open.

Her breath caught at the sight before her eyes.

Chris stepped out of the small bathroom at the back of the garage, barefoot, wearing only a pair of well-worn jeans that clung low on his hips and a towel that hung loosely around his neck. His chest and abs were still damp, droplets of water catching the light as they slid down his skin, evidence of a quick rinse before heading home. He stopped mid-step when he saw her, his brows lifting in surprise for the briefest moment. Then, slowly, a wicked smile spread across his face, and he pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, the gesture both lazy and deliberate.

“Well, Poppy,” he drawled, his voice low and amused. “Couldn’t stay away, huh?”

Her cheeks heated instantly at the nickname, and she gripped the handlebars of her bike tighter, suddenly hyper-aware of how small the space felt with him standing there. “My chain,” she said quickly, gesturing to the offending bike. “It came off again.”

He tilted his head, still grinning as he sauntered toward her. “Did it now?” His tone was almost teasing, and she couldn’t help but feel like there was something unspoken in his words.

“Yeah,” she agreed, clearing her throat. “So… here I am. Like you said.”

Chris stopped just a foot away, his gaze dropping to the bike and then back to her face, his smirk never faltering. “You’re a good listener,” he remarked, crouching down to inspect the chain. “Most people think they know better and end up making a bigger mess.”

She crossed her arms, trying to ignore the way her pulse quickened as his shoulders flexed with the movement. “Well, you made it pretty clear not to touch it.”

“Smart girl,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.

As he worked, his fingers deftly maneuvering the chain back into place, she studied him, trying to distract herself from the warmth creeping up her neck. There was something about his expression, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“You seem… amused by this,” she observed, narrowing her eyes slightly.

Chris glanced up at her, his grin softening into something more boyish, though no less mischievous. “Do I?”

“Yes,” she shot back, though her voice lacked the bite she intended.

He straightened, brushing his hands on his jeans as he inspected his work. “There. Good as new,” He leaned casually against the bike, and the smirk returned, slow and deliberate.

“Guess you’ll just have to keep coming back,” he added, replacing the boyish smile with the smirk again.

Something about the way he said it… no, she was imagining things. She shook the thought away, offering a polite smile instead. “Thanks,” she murmured. “Let’s hope I don’t have to. I’ve bothered you enough already.”

He didn’t reply immediately, just chuckled low. A rich, warm sound that made her stomach flutter despite herself. Reaching for the towel draped around his neck, he tossed it over his shoulder, his smirk never fading.

“Guess we’ll see,” he replied, his tone dripping with mirth.

She gave him a quick nod, gripping the handlebars of her bike as she turned toward the door. As she wheeled it out of the workshop, she could feel his gaze on her the entire time, heavy and lingering.

----------

It couldn’t be just a coincidence, and she didn’t believe in hexes. As she stepped outside the shop the next day and tried to ride her bike, only to find the chain dislodged again, she was sure Chris had something to do with it.

But why? Was he bored and was using her as a form of distraction? Did he catch on to her little crush and find joy in teasing her? The thoughts simmered in her chest, leaving a heat that burned more from frustration than embarrassment.

Biting her lip, she squared her shoulders and left the bike leaning against the wall. Her resolve hardened as she stormed toward the garage, striding straight through the open door. The bang of it slamming shut behind her echoed in the quiet space.

There he was, perched casually on the edge of a workbench, a giant biscuit in hand. His broad shoulders hunched slightly as he chewed, and he looked up at her with a genuine flicker of surprise in his icy blue eyes. Good. Let him be surprised.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she hissed, her tone sharp enough to cut through the air.

He didn’t answer immediately, his poker face slipping into place as he leisurely took another bite of his biscuit. She marched closer, the click of her boots on the concrete floor punctuating her frustration.

“You think it’s funny, huh?” she snapped, her voice rising. “Messing with my bike to entertain yourself like some immature teenager?”

This... was not how he pictured this would go.

Chris blinked at her, caught off guard by the fiery edge in her tone and the determination blazing in her eyes. He hadn’t accounted for this, hadn’t considered that the sweet, flustered woman next door might come stomping into his workshop like a storm ready to unleash hell.

And damn if it wasn’t kind of hot.

The corner of his mouth twitched, but he suppressed the smirk threatening to form, masking his features into neutrality. Okay, Poppy’s got thorns, he thought, his nickname for her taking on a new meaning. His smooth plan -one that felt straight out of a cheesy romcom, the kind his friends always mocked him for enjoying - was spiraling quickly out of control.

“Are you just going to sit there and stare or are you going to explain yourself?” she pressed, crossing her arms. Her cheeks were flushed, and her frustration was palpable.

He swallowed the last of the biscuit, brushing the crumbs from his hands. “Explain what, exactly?” he drawled, calm but with a hint of amusement.

“My bike,” she snapped, pointing toward the door. “The chain’s off again, and I know you have something to do with it.”

Chris finally let the smirk slip, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek as he stood, the movement slow and deliberate. “Maybe you should take better care of it,” he advised, in a low and teasing tone

Her eyes narrowed, and he could almost see the steam rising off her.

“Don’t play dumb,” she shot back. “You told me not to touch it, to bring it to you, and now, magically, it keeps breaking?”

He stepped closer, his hands sliding casually into his pockets. “And yet, here you are,” he murmured, deepening his infuriating smirk.

Her glare faltered for the briefest moment as she registered his words. Indeed, he was doing it on purpose.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she breathed, her voice dripping with disbelief.

“Guess you figured me out,” he admitted, his voice dipping lower as he stepped closer, vanishing the space between them. Their bodies almost touched, and his heat radiated against her skin. “What are you gonna do about it, Poppy?”

That sultry tone, paired with the teasing lilt in his words, sent a wave of electricity coursing through her body, nearly making her knees give out. But she forced herself to stand firm, her chin tilting upward to meet his gaze.

Before she could stop herself -before her rational side could intervene- her hand shot out, slapping him across the face.

The sharp sound echoed in the quiet garage.

Chris’s head snapped slightly to the side, the sting blooming on his cheek. His free hand instinctively flexed at his side as he turned back to her with a stunned expression, as though he truly hadn’t seen that coming.

“Okay,” he muttered, almost to himself.

She didn’t give him time to recover. “I didn’t think you were such an asshole, Chris,” she spat, her voice trembling with anger, her chest heaving. “You have all those women fawning over you nonstop, and this-” she gestured between them, her voice breaking with frustration” was completely unnecessary. I hope your little game entertained you enough. Your stupid neigh-”

He cut her off the only way he could think of.

By kissing her.

The motion was swift. His hand slid around her waist, keeping her in place as his lips crashed against hers. It wasn’t a soft, tentative kiss. It was firm, heated, and unapologetically bold, the kind that stole the breath right out of her lungs.

For a split second, her mind went blank, her anger eclipsed by the unexpected intensity of his actions. She froze, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer.

His lips softened slightly, coaxing rather than demanding, as if asking her to meet him halfway.

And damn it, she did.

Her hands found their way to his chest, whether to shove him or steady herself, she couldn’t tell.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against hers, and his breath was hot against her lips. “Now,” he murmured “are you gonna call me an asshole again, or should I keep going?”

Her eyes snapped open and her cheeks flamed as she registered his mischievous and utterly unrepentant smirk. Her chest rose and fell, words stuck in her throat as he leaned closer, his lips curling into a knowing grin. "That's what I thought," he murmured, his voice low and taunting, before capturing her lips again.

This time, the kiss was deeper, hungrier. His hand slid from her waist to her hip, pulling her flush against him, while the other cradled the back of her neck. Her protest melted into a soft moan as his tongue parted her lips, exploring her with confidence.

Her hands found their way to his shoulders, clutching at the firm muscles beneath his shirt as he walked her backward, guiding her toward the little office at the side of the workshop without breaking the kiss. When her thighs hit the edge of the desk, he took the opportunity to press his body even closer.

His name on her lips only seemed to spur him on, his kisses growing fiercer and insistent. The room was filled with the sounds of their ragged breaths and the scrape of papers and stationery being pushed aside as he lifted her onto the desk, stepping between her knees with a possessive grip on her thighs.

He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. "You can still walk out of here," he rasped, though the way his thumb traced lazy circles on her inner thigh suggested he knew the answer already.

Her lips parted, but instead of answering, she grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him back to her. That was all the permission he needed.

Chris’s hands gripped her thighs firmly, pulling her hips closer to the edge of the desk as he kissed her like he was starved. His teeth grazed her bottom lip, drawing a gasp from her mouth, which he swallowed with a low, satisfied growl. One hand slipped under the waistband of her cotton shorts, rough fingers skimming over the soft fabric of her underwear, teasing but not quite daring enough to push further… yet.

“Fuck,” he murmured against her lips, his breath hot and ragged. “You’re driving me crazy, you know that?”

Her nails dug into his shoulders, as he trailed his mouth down her jaw to the sensitive spot just below her ear. She shivered, her head tilting instinctively to give him better access.

“You think this is fair?” she managed to gasp, with a trembling voice as his fingers edged lower, brushing over her clothed pussy. “Messing with me like that?”

He smirked against her skin, his lips trailing down to the hollow of her throat. “Fair’s overrated,” he muttered, nipping at her collarbone. “Besides, you didn’t seem to mind earlier.”

Her retort died in her throat as his hand slipped beneath the elastic of her panties, and, without preamble, he slid two fingers inside her, groaning low in his throat at the feel of her warm pussy clenching around them. “You’re so goddamn wet,” he rasped, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Was all that attitude just for show, Poppy? You have been wanting this as bad as I have?”

She couldn’t answer, not with the way his fingers curled, hitting a spot that made her gasp and clutch at his shoulders. Her nails dug into his skin through his shirt, and she felt his smirk against her neck before he nipped at her pulse.

“Exactly what I thought,” he stated, his voice laced with smug satisfaction as his thumb found her clit, circling it in a way that had her thighs trembling. “You’ve been waiting for me to take you apart, haven’t you?”

Her only response was a desperate moan, as her hips ground against his hand, chasing the pleasure he was so expertly coaxing out of her. He didn’t relent, adding more pressure to his movements, his breath hot against her skin as he kissed and bit along her collarbone.

“Say it,” he demanded, as his fingers plunged deeper. “Tell me how bad you want it, Poppy.”

“I… please” she whined trying to press herself harder against his hand.

Chris chuckled darkly against the sensitive skin of her neck. “Please, what?” he teased, his fingers slowing just enough to make her whimper in frustration. “Use your words, sweetheart. I want to hear you say it.”

Her pride warred with her need, but the desperate ache building inside her won out. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she tilted her head back, exposing her throat in a silent plea. “I need to cum,” she whispered, with a trembling voice. “Please, Chris.”

“That’s my girl,” he growled, his lips crashing back onto hers as he pumped his fingers harder, the slick sounds of her arousal filling the small office. His thumb pressed firmly against her clit, drawing a broken cry from her as her hips bucked wildly against his hand.

Her legs felt weak, her body trembling under the relentless assault of his touch. He pulled back just enough to watch her face, his eyes dark with hunger. “You gonna come for me, Poppy?” he asked, his voice low and rough. “Right here, with my fingers buried in this pretty little pussy?”

That was all it took. Her body tensed, her walls clenching around his fingers as the wave of pleasure crashed over her. She cried out, her nails dragging down his back as her orgasm left her trembling in his arms.

Chris didn’t stop until her shudders subsided, pulling his fingers out slowly and bringing them to his mouth. His eyes never left hers as he licked them clean, with a satisfied smirk on his face. “Sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever tasted,” he murmured.

Before she could recover, he was reaching for the hem of her shirt, his intentions clear as his eyes roamed her flushed, trembling body. “We’re not done yet, Poppy,” he said, his grin wicked. “Not even close.”

Her body was still trembling from the aftershocks, but her mind was beginning to clear, and with clarity came a surge of boldness. As Chris pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it somewhere across the room, she caught his wrist, halting his next move.

“Do you always pull stunts like this?” she asked, breathless but with a hint of sharpness in her tone.

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk still firmly in place. “What, you mean fixing your bike?”

Her eyes narrowed, and she gave his chest a push, not hard enough to create distance, but enough to make her point. “Sabotaging it, you mean,” she shot back, her lips curving into a small smile despite herself.

Chris didn’t deny it. Instead, he leaned in, his mouth brushing against hers as he murmured, “Worked, didn’t it?”

Her retort was interrupted by his hand sliding up her thigh, fingers tracing a slow, teasing path over her bare skin. She bit her lip, trying to hold onto her composure. “You could’ve just asked me out, you know,” she managed, her voice wavering as his hand crept higher.

His grin widened. “Where’s the fun in that?”

She rolled her eyes, but her breath hitched as his hand slipped beneath the waistband of her shorts, cupping her possessively. “You’re insufferable,” she muttered, though her hands betrayed her words as they gripped his forearms, nails digging in as he teased her.

“And you’re gorgeous when you’re pissed off,” he countered, his voice dropping an octave.

Her laugh was soft but shaky, cut short when he slid her shorts and panties down in one swift motion, leaving her bare before him. He stepped back slightly to take her in, his gaze burning as it swept over her flushed skin. “Fucking perfect,” he muttered, almost to himself.

She felt heat flood her face, but instead of retreating into shyness, she stepped forward, placing her hands on his belt and tugging him closer. Her fingers worked at the buckle with purpose, though she glanced up at him with a smirk of her own. “You’re not the only one who gets to have fun, you know,”

Chris groaned, his hands gripping her hips as he watched her undo his belt, anticipation clear in his darkened eyes. “Careful, Poppy,” he warned, though there was no real threat in his tone, just raw, unfiltered need.

“Or what?” she challenged, her fingers sliding beneath the waistband of his jeans to push them down.

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he grabbed her wrists and guided her back toward the desk, his lips crashing against hers in a kiss that left no room for argument. He lifted her effortlessly, settling her on the edge as his mouth moved down her neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses.

Her head fell back with a gasp, her hands rummaged against his shaved head as his beard scraped against her skin. “Chris,” she breathed, the sound of his name a plea that made him growl against her collarbone.

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded, his voice rough as his hands roamed her body, mapping every curve.

Her nails raked down his back, as her hips shifted to meet his. “I want you to fuck me."

Her words snapped whatever fragile thread of restraint he’d been clinging to. He surged forward, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. It was all teeth and tongue, rough and consuming, as his hands gripped her hips like he was staking a claim.

“Say it again,” he rasped against her lips, his voice low and gravelly.

She trembled, her nails kept digging into his back as her legs wrapped around his waist. “I want you to fuck me,” she repeated, her voice tinted with a mix of desperation and challenge.

“Good girl,” he growled, reaching between them to line himself up. With one hard thrust, he buried himself inside her, drawing a sharp cry from her lips as her body arched against his.

The desk creaked beneath them, the sound mingling with their ragged breaths and the low, guttural groan Chris let out as he began to move. His rhythm was relentless, each thrust pushing her closer to the edge as he held her firmly in place, one hand gripping her behind her knee and the other gripping the nape of her neck.

“Fuck, Poppy,” he muttered, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke. “You feel so damn good.”

Her hands clawed at his back, her head falling backward as his pace quickened. “Chris,” she gasped, her voice breaking on his name as her body tightened around him. The way he filled her, the intensity of his movements, it was overwhelming, intoxicating, everything she hadn’t known she needed.

He tilted back her head by the hair, his lips finding hers again in a kiss that was more raw than refined, his teeth catching her lower lip before he pulled back to look at her. “You’re mine,” he said, his voice a guttural growl that didn’t leave place for argument.

“Yes,” she whimpered, her nails scraping against his scalp as her thighs clenched around his waist.

The admission seemed to snap something in him. He shifted his angle, his thrusts hitting deeper, harder, each one drawing a broken moan from her lips. Her hands flew to the edge of the desk, gripping it for stability as her body shook with the force of his movements.

Her climax hit her hard, her vision went white as her body clenched around him. She cried out his name, raw and breathless as the pleasure overtook her. Chris followed moments later, as his hips jerked against hers one final time as he came with a soft groan, his release flooding her as he sank deep, unable to hold back any longer.

They stayed like that for a moment, bodies connected, and breaths mingling as they came down from the high. Chris pressed his forehead to hers, his lips curving into a lazy, satisfied smirk.

“Still think I’m an asshole?” he teased, his voice rough but filled with amusement.

She let out a breathless laugh, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. “Oh, you’re definitely an asshole,” she replied, despite the sated look in her eyes.

He chuckled softly, but then silence settled between them. His gaze shifted to the floor, his hand running through his hair as if to busy himself. She tilted her head, sensing his sudden unease.

After a beat, he let out a sigh, furrowing his brows. “I didn’t think you would say yes,” he confessed, almost hesitant.

She blinked at him, her fingers pausing their lazy strokes on his chest. “Say yes to what?”

He bit his lip, clearly debating whether to answer. Finally, he sighed again, his eyes lifting to meet hers, though they held a vulnerable edge now. “When you told me I could just have asked you out,” he admitted, his words a little rushed, like getting them out quickly would make them easier to say.

Her gaze softened at the sight of his cheeks turning pink, the blush spreading up to his ears. He looked so different like this, shy and unsure. It was a stark contrast to the cocky, self-assured man she’d come to know. It reminded her of the way he looked when she’d caught him eating her baked goods on the sidewalk, his face lighting up like a kid at Christmas.

“Chris,” she said softly, pulling his gaze back to hers. “Why wouldn’t I?”

His hand rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I don’t know. You’re… you. And I’m me. I guess I just figured… hell, I don’t know.” He laughed awkwardly, shaking his head as if to dismiss the thought. “That’s why I thought maybe…”

“Maybe what?” she pressed gently.

He flushed deeper, his hand falling to his side as he let out a resigned breath. “If I kept fixing your bike, it’d give me a reason to see you. Even if you weren’t interested. And maybe… eventually…”

Her lips parted in surprise, and for a moment, she just stared at him. Then, a slow, amused smile crept across her face. “So, you’ve been sabotaging my bike this whole time just to spend time with me?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper as he ducked his head. “Pretty stupid, huh?”

Her laugh was warm and bright, and when he glanced up at her, she was grinning. “Chris,” she said, reaching up to brush her fingers along his jaw, “you really are an asshole. But you’re a cute one.”

That earned her a boyish grin, the confidence starting to creep back into his expression. “Cute, huh?” he teased, leaning in until their noses nearly touched.

She rolled her eyes playfully but didn’t pull away. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

His grin softened, but before he could respond, she added, “Also… I never thought you’d be interested in me. I’m not your usual… cup of tea.”

The playful spark in his eyes faded into something warmer, more serious. He leaned back just enough to study her face, his brows furrowing. “What makes you think that?”

She shrugged, her fingers fidgeting against his chest. “I’ve seen the women who hang around you, Chris. They’re all so… well, let’s say I don’t exactly fit that mold. I guess I just figured someone like you wouldn’t look twice at someone like me.”

Chris’s jaw clenched, his hands slid to rest firmly on her waist. “First off, that’s bullshit. You’re gorgeous, smart, and you’ve got this thing about you…” He paused, his lips quirking into a small, lopsided smile. “You’re real, Poppy. And if you haven’t noticed, I’ve been looking a hell of a lot more than twice.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she bit her lip, unable to suppress a small, bashful smile. “You’re just saying that because I slept with you,” she teased lightly, though her voice wavered just a little.

His expression turned serious again, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “I’m saying it because it’s true. I’ve wanted you since the first time you walked out of your shop six months ago, all wide-eyed and nervous to exhibit some plants in the sidewalk. You had a yellow apron full of poppies.”

She blinked in surprise. “You… remember that?”

His expression softened, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips. “Of course, I remember. How could I not?” His thumb continued its gentle caress over her cheek. “You were fussing over every little detail, making sure each pot was lined up just right. I was watching you from the garage and thinking how someone could be so damn... adorable.”

She blinked again, stunned. “Adorable?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice dipping lower. “You had smudges of dirt on your face, a little furrow in your brow like the whole world would fall apart if one of those plants was crooked. And that apron…” He grinned, his eyes glinting with affection. “It had those poppies on it, and I thought, Poppy. It just… fit you.”

Her cheeks burned, the memory suddenly vivid in her own mind. She’d been so self-conscious that day, trying to make a good impression in the neighborhood. “I had no idea you noticed me,” she murmured.

“Are you kidding?” he asked, a soft laugh escaping him. “I couldn’t not notice you. I kept trying to come up with excuses to walk by, hoping you’d look up and say hi. But you didn’t even glance my way.”

She bit her lip, feeling a pang of guilt. “I was so focused on not messing up… I didn’t even think to look around.”

“Well,” he said, his grin returning as he leaned in closer, “I guess I just had to get creative after that.”

Her lips quirked in a wry smile. “Creative like messing with my bike?”

He winced, his blush deepening. “Yeah, maybe not my best plan. But it worked, didn’t it?”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no mistaking the warmth in her smile. “You’re lucky it did.”

Chris chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Okay, but watching you storm in here like a little spitfire? Worth every second.”

She swatted at his chest, though her laugh undermined the gesture. “You’re the worst.”

“Yeah, but I’m your worst now,” he replied pulling her closer by the waist.

She arched a brow, giving him a deadpan look. “You just called yourself my worst. That’s not exactly a glowing endorsement, you know that, don’t you?”

“Fine, let me try again.” He caressed her cheek and pressed his forehead against hers “What about… I’m your guy now?”

She felt a flutter in her stomach at his words. Biting her lip, she hesitated for just a second before leaning in, brushing her lips softly against his.

“Much better,” she smiled, her gaze locked on his.

Chris’s grin widened, his cockiness tempered by something gentler. His hand slid up to cradle the back of her head, pulling her closer for another kiss.

Outside, the faint chirp of crickets signaled the end of the day, but inside the garage, time felt suspended, wrapped in the warmth of shared smiles and the lingering taste of the kiss.

“Guess I should fix your bike now,” Chris finally murmured, his voice low and teasing, though his thumb still brushed lightly against her cheek as if he couldn’t bear to stop touching her.

She laughed softly, the sound carrying over the music. “Maybe I’ll let you if you promise not to sabotage it again.”

His smirk was immediate, wickedness returning in full force. “Can’t do, Poppy. You looked way too damn hot storming in here.”

She swatted his chest, as the song faded into another, its upbeat tempo matching the rhythm of her fluttering heart.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

[nomie-11]

I Love You, I'm Sorry

masterlist! | read part 2 here!

synopsis: when vi betrays you in favor of caitlyn, all she can say is 'i love you, i'm sorry,' before watching as she tears your heart from your chest and grinds it into the dirt

pairings: vi x reader

“Really, Vi?” You practically spat, face to face with a girl you thought you knew. “You’re running with the enforcers now? Since when were you a bluebelly?”

The grimace on her face was set in firm lines, hard and unyielding and so unlike the Vi you once knew. This was her—same powder blue eyes, same fiery pink hair, same cheekbones, same lip shape, but your Vi would never betray you like this. 

“This is for you, this is for Zaun,” god, even the words tasted like a lie on her tongue, but she wouldn’t admit it. “Jinx is a danger to us both topside and here in the undercity. You should know that!”

“Is that the lie you’re telling yourself to justify this!?” You were practically vibrating with anger, fists clenched tightly at your sides. “I loved you, Vi. What are you doing?” 

Vi’s face twisted, a crack of pain breaking through her tough facade. “I—” she started, but her words fell apart. 

The silence that stretched between you felt louder than the pounding of your heart. You could barely breathe, your chest heaving with rage, disbelief, and heartbreak. 

“You loved me? Don’t you dare use that in the same breath as selling me out,” you snapped, stepping closer to her. You didn’t care about the enforcer shadowing her, a step behind with one hand hovering near her weapon. All you could see was Vi, standing there with a badge at her hip and gilt in her eyes. “I trusted you. You swore you’d never betray us. Never betray me.” 

“This isn’t about betrayal!” Vi shot back, her voice trembling as she raised her hands, trying to calm you or herself—you couldn’t tell. “This is about stopping you before it’s too late. You’ve gone too far, Y/n. The arson, the—” she hesitated, jaw tightening. “The murders. Working with—”

“With Silco!?” You laughed, a dry, bitter sound. “That’s what she told you, isn't it?” You gestured sharply to the enforcer—Caitlyn—her perfect Piltover uniform untouched by the grime of Zaun. “Let me guess, she spun some story about me being a terrorist, and you just ate it up because she’s got a fancy accent and a badge.” 

“That’s not—” Vi started, but Caitlyn’s voice cut through her hesitation. 

“She’s dangerous, Vi. You know that.” Caitlyn’s tone was level, professional, but her gaze flicked to you with a mix of wariness and disdain. “We need to bring her in—now.” 

“Jinx and I have done more for this city than you ever could! We’ve brought hope back to Zaun and you’re trying to rip it to shreds! What about my parents? What about your parents!” Your heart cracked, splintering into sharp, jagged pieces. You took another step forward, daring Vi to stop you. “So, what’s it going to be, Vi? Do you believe her?” You pointed at Caitlyn. “Or me?” 

Vi hesitated, her fists clenching and unclenching at her sides. Her eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, you saw the girl you fell in love with. The girl who once fought for Zaun, for her family, for you. But then she looked at Caitlyn, and everything shattered. 

“I love you,” Vi whispered, her voice breaking. “I’m sorry.” 

The words hit you like a blow to the chest. Your vision blurred, not from tears—no, you wouldn’t cry—but from a red-hot fury that burned through your veins. “No,” you growled, voice low and venomous. “Don’t you dare say that to me. You don’t get to say you love me and choose a Piltie over me.” 

“Y/n,” Vi said, stepping toward you, but you backed away, shaking your head. 

“Stay the hell away from me,” you spat, your voice trembling with anger and heartbreak. “You’re no better than the blue bellies who raided Zaun and tore our families apart. You’re just like them. You’re a traitor.”

The words cut deep—you saw it in the way Vi flinched, the way her hand wavered before falling uselessly to her side. But you didn’t care. Let her feel a fraction of th pain she had inflicted on you. 

Caitlyn stepped forward then, gun in hand. “Surrender peacefully, or this ends the hard way.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. “You think I’m going down without a fight?” Your hands flexed at your sides, ready to grave the blade hidden beneath your coat. You knew it wasn’t a fair fight—two against one, with Caitlyn’s hextech rifle and Vi’s hextech fists—but you didn’t care. If this was how it ended, you’d make them work for it.

The fight erupted in a blur of movement. Caitlyn fired, but you ducked, the bullet ricocheting off a metal pipe. You lunged at Vi, and for a moment, your fists collided with hers—like old times, but with none of the playfulness, none of the love. 

“Y/n, stop!” VI shouted, blocking your strikes. Her voice was desperate, pleading. “I don’t want to hurt you!”

“Funny, because you already have,” You snarled, landing a blow that sent her stumbling back. But Caitlyn was there, quick and efficient, slamming the butt of her rifle into your side. Pain exposed in your ribs, but you didn’t falter. 

You wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. 

It wasn’t long before they overwhelmed you. Caitlyn had you pinned, her knee digging into your back as she cuffed your hands. Vi stood over you, blood dripping from a cut above her eyebrow, her expression a mix of anguish and regret. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you hissed, struggling against the cuffs. “Don’t you dare look at me like that.” 

“I—” Vi started, but you cut her off. 

“You made your choice,” you spat. “You chose her. You chose Piltover. You chose everything you once swore to hate. And for what? A badge? A chance to play hero?” You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “Screw you, Vi.” 

Her face crumpled, and for a moment, you thought you saw tears in her eyes. But you didn’t care. Let her cry. Let her feel the weight of what she’d done. 

As Caitlyn hauled you to your feet, you fixed Vi with a glare, your voice cold and unyielding. “You’re dead to me, Vi. Don’t ever forget that.” 

read part 2 here!

If you enjoyed this one shot, please check out my other series!

[the-midnight-blooms]

SHAMELESS WOMAN | smg

PROLOGUE

pairing: ghostface!song mingi x reader (ft. ghostface!jeong yunho) AU: modern au word count: 3.2k warnings: yandere themes, stalking

masterlist

A/N: I've never actually watched Scream but I love the concept, so general ideas revolving around the character will be used here (i also saw yungi!ghostface fanart, which i am OBSSESSED with).

A chat room is an online platform that enables users to communicate with each other in real time. Chat rooms are typically hosted on a server with an internet connection, enabling members from around the world to hold conversations about various topics.

Upbeat 80s rock music reverberates of the four walls of her room, the pen nib scratches, furiously, across the thin lined paper as her mind spills the plethora of knowledge that's locked up within it. Dropping the pen to the side, a long groan escapes her lips in tiredness the bright light of the computer screen gnawing at her attention. As she flicks between the several open tabs on her web browser, loitering in the far corner is an underground chat room for ‘conventional losers’, i.e. nerds, geeks, freaks, goths and emos and every other ostracised sub-cultural group you could think of. The thought itself was quite fascinating to her, which one was she? Or rather, was she the pretentious introvert who thought herself higher than those who defied society's conventional train of thought and aligned herself with the populars?

Snapping her book shut, she closed several of the academic pages she had open; leaving her with the final one: the infamous chat room. She’d already logged in, curiosity masticating her rationality and browsed a few pages, sent a few quick messages to people the website had recommended based on her “favourite topics”.

Her eyes glance carefully across the blaring screen, the blue light penetrating into her steady gaze as she reads the username that steals her undivided attention.

@ pyscho.killer

A snicker escapes her lips, she surfs their profile finding very little information about them, other than ‘Fix on’. Goodness, is she really going to talk to this person just because he too enjoys listening to Modern Talking? Her lips purse in contemplation as she clicks on ‘Message’, there’s no harm in conversing with someone you don’t know. Right?

modern-division: Fan of the Talking Heads much?

She prides herself on her nonchalance, if he wasn't to respond she really wouldn't care. After all, Yeji had invited her to join a number of societies at university and despite the fact that none of the them seemed particularly interesting to her; there was no harm in joining at least one or two if the outcome was a few friends to make her strenuous four years more bearable.

Ping. Her head snaps back to computer screen as she shoves all of her pens back into the pencil case; a dirty habit from childhood to spread all of her things across the table and then spend five minutes, impartially, cleaning everything up.

psycho.killer: Psycho Killer, Qu'est-ce que c'est?

modern-division: Fa-fa-fa-fa, fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa, better

psycho.killer: Run, run, run, run, run, run, run away,

psycho.killer: I think I have met my match. To whom do I now call mine?

A childish giggle escapes her, she leans back in her seat in a knowingness that she may now actually enjoy being on this sketchy platform. Careful, yet. She doesn't actually know this stranger.

modern-division: AHAHA you’re funny, Mr Fix On (what does that even mean?)

psycho.killer: that’s not for you to know, darling.

psycho.killer: let me guess…you like joy division and modern talking?

modern-division: what gave it away?

psycho.killer: I guess you’re pretty funny too

It's quite absurd to believe that a famous hit song by the 'Talking Heads' is what got her, her new best internet friend yet the notion is very much a fact. So much so, her life is now consumed by the chat rooms she used to look down on. Social media is very much a vortex, or vacuum of some kind, sucking one in; leaving them void of humanity, stripping them down of some yearning for human interaction. Or at least that's what it did to most. After a long day of lectures, she found herself wanting to be able to see 'Mr Fix On' in person, talk to him in person, be able to stare into his eyes.

Speaking of. As a matter of fact, she didn't even know what he looked like. Just that he was South Korean, had short black hair and brown eyes. She too allowed herself to share the same amount of information that he provided. Mum did say not to go around talking to strangers, and even if she was doing just that; she was not dim enough to start revealing absolutely everything about her identity.

The autumn leaves sway softly with the gentle breeze, a waft of biting air floods over her sending a ripple of goosebumps over her supple skin. Her shoes crunch the delicate leaves, that pave the way to her home, yet she feels a daunting figure stalk after her. For a split second, she believes herself to be hallucinating as she takes a daring look behind her shoulder to find the street behind her, empty.

A tall figure strolls after her, picturing landmarks that carves the path to her home. His soft dark brown hair tousles with the wind, the cold forging a pink blush over his cheeks; sinking his long nose into the woollen scarf his movements come to an abrupt halt as his heroine plunges her eyes into his.

God, she's fucking pretty.

They move over his, hastily, as to her he's simply rifling through his bag for a wallet in line for an expensive coffee alongside a couple of old-age pensioners.

Conclusion: She is paranoid, there is no one after her. Yet as it is autumn in her unsafe town, its better to be cautious than to walk across the surface of the earth with no walls at all.

psycho.killer: wanna join a gc with my friend? he likes some of the same music as us.

psycho.killer: plus, he's a compsci loser who needs a friend

It's been at least a month since she had began talking to 'psycho.killer', who she had learnt his name is: Mings. Or rather its a shorthand version of his forename that he is weirdly reluctant to disclose, as he insists on her calling him 'Min' or "darling, my lover, husband- whatever floats your boat." He is truly charismatic, his charms are perceived from the other end of the screen. She wonders what it would be like to see him in real life. Is he truly as amiable as he reads?

modern-division: haha, i don't mind. what's his @ ?

psycho.killer: its @ killed.theradio.st4r

modern-division: you guys are my people

She hums the tune to 'Video Killed the Radio Star." Her mother's soft laughter pervades her way into her room; the older woman places her washed clothes on the Chester drawer wondering how the younger generation manage to get invested in the songs of the past.

[psycho.killer added you to 'two losers and a hot nerd']

killed.theradio.st4r: helloo, i'm yuyu :)

modern-division: hi!

modern-division: also, who's the hot nerd?

psycho.killer: me.

killed.theradio.st4r: lmao. its you, doll.

Does Mings just refer to me as, Doll to everyone he speaks to?

modern-division: you don't even know what i look like

killed.theradio.st4r: guess we just know you're a hot girl by intuition

modern-division: what if i'm a man? ever thought about that?

psycho.killer: your bio literally states that you're a girl

psycho.killer: not-so-mysterious babe

It wasn’t so bad for someone online to know your gender, it was just ensuring that your femininity wasn’t exploited. She knew they would never ask her to share explicit content nor would they force her to engage in it, though talking to the pair of ‘Killers’ preserved an ominous feeling in the airs. She couldn’t tell if at any point, she really felt comfortable talking to either of the two.

To begin with, Min was always trying to call her. Ask her where she was, what she was doing, if she had she eaten, what time she was going to bed. He asked about her day, and if anyone bothered her in particular. To any other he may have seemed like a kind-hearted boyfriend yet to her it felt like an intruder had permeated into the walls of her bedroom and dominated her life. Then you had his esteemed friend, Yun. He was always deeming her the most beautiful being he had ever seen. She could see within his words the robust desire he had manifested from her words, the way he had subtly requested for her photos in order to fuel the raging fires burning in her absence.

He wanted her. Physically, to put it lightly. Indeed, she was a doll to him and to have her in his arms would purify him of all his sinful thoughts. Yun always brought it up with his friend, who had simply told him to put out those fires. (For the time being).

“Have you heard of ‘Ghostface’?” Her head snaps up from her workbook, in the library where one of her closer acquaintances sits opposite playing with her water bottle. A newspaper article sits in front with the notorious blurry image of a man with a ghost mask roaming around town.

“This is the first I’m hearing. I mean it’s Halloween soon, so it’s probably some idiot roaming around town.”

“An idiot? I don’t think so, ma’am. Read on, he’s been going around stalking people in his costume.” She raises her eyebrows, nimbly scanning her eyes over the text before returning back to her work. Though she cannot help but stare back at the blurred image of the figure. “I bet there’s a sexy man under all that.” Scowling at her friend, she sends a dirty look.

“You have got to be kidding me. A ‘sexy’ man. You said it yourself, he’s stalking people.”

“Yeah but, one of the girls from Art said he was mad tall and had this deep, attractive voice.”

“Yes, I bet he goes: ‘come here babe, let me kill you’ in his husky voice and you all go running to him because you have no morals.” Once again, she rolls her eyes whilst her friend merely giggles as if she is just pleasantly awaiting to be a victim. She rarely meets women who have an ambition for a victim complex, yet those she does: she steers away from.

“I’m only joking, but be real. Have you never heard a guy with a deep, attractive voice?” Her friend questions, making her pause her writing. In fact, she has. Mins’ voice has a sent over her railings during their late night calls, there’s something so potent residing within it. Intoxicating. It almost has her want to do everything he asks.

He is too, tall with a deep voice but there must be so many like him in this world.

The thought is dismissed and she shoos away her friend to allow herself to prioritise the exam that’s pending in two weeks time.

modern-division: have you guys heard of ghostface?

killed.theradio.st4r: why?

modern-division: just asking, apparently some loser is dressing up in a ghost mask and stalking people. idk if it’s just halloween round the corner though

killed.theradio.st4r: oh no :(

killed.theradio.st4r: could just be a halloween thing

modern-division: yeah, I think so too.

“So you like the librarian?”

“Mhm.” She steals her longing gaze away from him towards Yeji, who sends a vicious smirk her way. A blush taints her cheeks, knowing that Yeji will never live it down now. “I’m not gonna deny he’s pretty good looking.”

“Pretty good looking? He’s gorgeous as fuck. He’s not a want, he’s a need.” Playfully, she bites her lip suppressing a fit of giggles by burying her face into the textbook. A few others send irritated looks from across the room, which has the pair sinking in their seats. “You think a guy like him is single?”

“Absolutely not. If I had the chance, I’d snatch him up right away.” Her eyes flicker back to the tall man who catches her stare in an instant, he holds it before moving back to surf through the books on the trolley.

A low beat surfaces along the posters, her phone is sandwiched between her shoulder and cheek as she trudges furiously around the room looking for her scarf. Min's voice permeates her ears delicately, despite the alarming sentences he speaks; he converses in length about human anatomy saying that raw flesh must be easier to study than cadaveric tissue. As much as she agrees, just to play devil's advocate she will never admit that.

“I love your voice, Mings. It’s so deep, but like in a comforting way. As if you can protect me.” The declaration escapes her mouth before she can even stop it.

“Do you want to be protected by me, or from me, doll?” A pause lingers in the air, before he lowly chuckles—one that forces her to laugh with him though an uneasy feeling resides within her bones.

“By you, preferably.” She jokes, playing with the pendant of her necklace. A shadow looms by the open doorway, obscuring the stream of light that spills in from the hallway; the deafening silence panics her. “Mum!” She shouts, discarding the phone to the side in a frenzy.

“Yes! I just had a cup of tea for you, were you not studying?” The door is pushed open by nonetheless, her mother who waddles across the carpeted floor to settle the hot beverage down on the table.

“I was, I’m just tired now. Maybe I’ll come back to it later.”

“No, no. Go to bed, dear. I’m off to work, make sure you’re outside by 8, I’ll drop you.” A soft kiss is placed on her forehead, she is calmed by the maternal affection seeing her mother to the door before she dashes back into her room to find her phone.

The call must have been disconnected in the process of her flinging it elsewhere, her hands shake violently as she’s, pathetically, unable to hold the phone steady in her grasp. Mings has spammed her several times with messages, she doesn’t bother to read any of them.

modern-division: i’m tired, going to bed.

psycho.killer: goodnight, babygirl

In the midst of wandering through the aisles of the library, seeking books two shelves above her head, it instantaneously occurs to her that she’s never actually paid much attention to Yuyu and Mings’ pet names that they have for her. Doll, babygirl, darling, love, honey, etc. The list seems to never end yet she ponders the primary reason they get so comfortable around her is because she has never actually given them a reason to stop being so affectionate.

A cascade of books tumble down from the shelf, hitting the floor with a powerful slam—jumping backwards on instinct, she grimaces reaching down from them as a few pairs of eyes stare at her from their tables. Her face heats red in embarrassment, until another pair of hands comes to assist her.

"Goodness, how did you manage this?" Her eyes gleam up into another's; words lodge in her throat upon realisation of the being in front. It's the 'hot librarian', as her and Yeji have trademarked.

"Oh, I—they just fell." He raises his eyes at her.

"They just. Fell." A mischievous smile is sent her way as he stacks the books back onto the shelf, that's too high for her to reach anyway. "We'll call it the force of gravity then, shall we?" Shyly, she nods, handing him the last of the books. Her eyes reel in the name scrawled across the name tag. A thought Yeji will be pleased to hear drifts into her mind.

“I’m Yujin, by the way. I’m always at the help desk if you need to me to stack books that randomly fall off the shelf again.” Her eyebrows furrow in confusion. It clearly says ‘Yunho’, on his name tag. He stalks off in the opposite direction before she can question him, leaving her abandoned in the desolate aisle.

modern-division: the hot librarian lied about his name.

modern-division: I wonder why

Paranoia is no longer a delusion. It must be very true that someone is following after her.

Under the banner of the night, herself and Yeji walk back home after a long day of studying. They amble down the cobbled roads, yet her eyes cannot help but glance over her shoulder. There must be a man of some sort following them, his long calculated strides send a wave of fear pummelling through her. Instantly, she grabs Yeji’s hand dashing down the road towards the convenience store.

The dim lights flicker upon their arrival, she cowers behind the large aisles; ignoring her friend’s imperatives watching as a tall figure saunters into the store.

It’s him.

Jeong Yunho, the Librarian.

Or ‘Yujin’ as he addresses himself for reasons she assumes she will never know why.

Is he her stalker?

“I thought there was someone stalking us. There was a guy who walked all the way from the library to the road we just crossed behind us. I took a detour as well and he kept following.” She breathes out, leaning her head against the shelf.

“Are you kidding? Why didn’t you tell me?” Yeji squawks.

“I didn’t want him to suspect that I knew he was following.”

Her eyes sought ‘Yujin’ who gives her a sincere smile before he makes his way to the exit.

modern-division: I think there was someone following me

psycho.killer: ??? are you home? are you safe now?

modern-division: yes, but shit that was scary.

psycho.killer: let me call you bbg, I’ll help get your mind of it

Her phone vibrates in her hand, her finger traces over the red button before she lifts the device to her ear. His smooth tone infiltrates her ears again, easing the anxiety prevalent in the fibre of her muscles. She doesn’t know how Min does it. He helps her forget all about her problems, it’s as if he himself is the cure.

“Oh hey, baby. There was something I wanted to ask.” He pants slightly, the distant sound of leaves crunching drifts from the other end of the line.

“Are you outside?” He laughs.

“Yeah I’m walking home.” His hasty breaths pervade the line. One after another, a series of profane thoughts enter her mind. She is so disappointed in herself. “So, you got a boyfriend?”

“Why? Do you wanna ask me out on a date?” She teases, a lock of hair curls around her forefinger, the vibrato of his voice truanting into her ears, exhilarating her core as rush of certainty floods into her.

“Maybe, do you have a boyfriend?” He piques, she cannot help but grin at his words as if they are both playing a dangerous game of seduction, one she has never played before and one he has won a countless number of times.

“No.” Her truthful answer is not one that hurts her, though she says it as if she’s lying and has had countless lovers before in the past. Perhaps this is the persona that will have her enigmatic paramour crawling towards her.

“You never told me your name.” He acknowledges, 'Mings' has only ever called her 'doll'. Her moves are careful as she continues her cyber relationship with this unknown man, there's a reason she's at the top of her class—he thinks. A thread of messages enter from another chat room, his sharp eyes reeling in the words of his partner.

“Why do you wanna know my name?” Sheer curiosity. Yes, he told her he’s called ‘Mings’ but it’s just a silly nickname used to gain her trust. What is it really short for: Mingi? Mingyu? And Yuyu? Is it possible that he is Yunho? A foreign uneasiness rushes into her skin, she’s cautious as she sits up in her desk chair.

A bad feeling, an intuition of some sort.

He’s going to tell her something she doesn’t want to hear.

“I wanna know who I’m looking at.” Her finger immediately presses, harshly, onto the red button throwing her phone onto her desk. Her body jumps up from her seat, heart pounding furiously against her chest. With her body leaning closer to the window, her eyes outcast the front lawn in which a slender figure stands outside. A ghosts mask rests upon his face, his lanky frame is shrouded in a loose black cloth concealing the shape of his body. A large brick phone is held up against his ear, when he catches her staring down at him, his head cocks eerily to the side.

psycho.killer: Pick

psycho.killer: Up

psycho.killer: The

psycho.killer: Phone

psycho.killer: Doll.

•••

All Rights Reserved © the-midnight-blooms

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, REPURPOSE, OR PLAGISRISE ANY OF THE WORK HERE

A/N: happy 'late' Halloween! my timing is atrocious, but here's a 'small snippet' of a fic i may continue if my writing schedule allows. atm its a one-shot. What's your favourite scary movie? 👻

let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for any future fics I post!

tag list: @n0v4t33z @potatos-on-clouds @jjongwho

[natalievoncatte]

This was going to happen; it was inevitable the moment that Lena chose this course and began preparing to enact the plan. The timing was the mystery, the where and when. Thinking back on it later, she should have known better. Supergirl liked dramatic entrances, and she liked having Lena to herself when she talked. Surprisingly for someone who flew around in primary colors and smiled cheerfully for the cameras, she knew how to be discreet.

There was a double thud as the stacked heels of Supergirl’s boots touched down on the balcony behind her. Lena didn’t look up from her work. Not for the first time, she wondered if Supergirl used her super-senses to read other people. Lena’s heart sped up when she heard the landing and her breath caught, but she remained calm and smooth when she spoke.

“You may as well come in. We’re on the ninety-sixth floor. I don’t bother locking it.”

The glass door slid quietly on oiled plastic runners, and a gust of chilly night air rolled over Lena’s shoulders, causing her ponytail to slide from its place and dangle down her back. She’d changed earlier out of her power suit and exchanged her tight high ponytail for a loose, comfortable one. She was planning an an all-nighter.

“You should lock the door. There are dangerous people out there. Among other things.”

“If any of them have it in for me, they’re not going to be slowed down much by the balcony door, Supergirl.”

There was a soft sigh behind her. “We need to talk.”

Lena smirked. “Why is that? Are you worried my new car saving machine will pull all the cats out of the trees and out you out of work? I’m still working out all the kinks.”

“Miss Luthor…”

“Speaking of kinks, maybe you could help me out. I’ve got a terrible crick in my neck and could use a super-neck rub.”

“Miss Luthor,”

“Or if you’re not busy, you could run and grab us some takeout. I’m thinking Thai, how about you?”

“Lena!”

Sighing, she turned around, tearing her attention from her work. Supergirl had her arms folded, displaying those impressive muscles of hers, and was looking at Lena with an expression of stern concern, something soft and a little worried in her eyes.

“What’s the occasion, then? Let me guess, someone wants to assassinate me.”

Supergirl sighed and let her arms fall. “You need to take this seriously. Right now, I’m the only friend you’ve got.”

“And why is that?”

Supergirl edged closer, her cape swirling slightly behind her. She put a hand on Lena’s desk and leaned over her.

“Because you’re been buying up every ounce of Kryptonite you can find.”

Her pulse began to race and she fought the urge to sink back from the piercing blue eyes that stared into hers.

“That’s not possible. Your cousin destroyed it all.”

“Not all of it,” said Supergirl. “The DEO keeps some, and there’s some floating around on the black market, usually mistaken for something else.”

“What makes you think that I didn’t just stumble across some? I inherited an extensive collection of art and sculpture, Supergirl, and I’m always adding to it. Ask Kara Danvers. I’m going to display the bulk of the family collection in a new wing at the city museum.”

“Because the DEO identified and tracked dozens of pieces, including the ones you bought,” Supergirl said, quietly. “It’s a way for us to identify threats and see who’s trafficking in it. You moved them through shell companies and had them smuggled through customs. You’re hiding something.”

Lena pushed to her feet, indignant, leaning into the do confrontation. She stabbed a manicured nail into the center of Supergirl’s chest, right into her big S.

“So now you come storming into my office making accusations?”

Supergirl planted her fists on her hips and stood over Lena, glaring down at her.

“I’m on your side. I’m the only one keeping the DEO from arresting you. I want to believe that there’s a benign reason for this, Lena. But you have to give me one. People think you’re a threat.”

Lena stared back at her, studying her features, her expression.

“It won’t do any good to tell you. Your superiors won’t believe me. They’ve been trying to entrap me ever since I took over the company.”

“They’re not my superiors,” Kara snapped. “I work with them. They have resources and support I need.”

Lena crossed her arms and cocked her head. “They also have Kryptonite. You just admitted that.”

“Lena,” Supergirl snapped.

Quickly, she grabbed a random page from her notes and scribbled, are they listening?

Supergirl looked at it briefly, then at Lena, weighing her options.

Then she nodded.

Lena scrawled on the sheet.

I’m making a cure.

Supergirl started, flinching as she read the note. She blinked almost comically.

Can we talk without anyone listening in? Lena wrote.

Supergirl nodded, taking the paper. She slipped the pen out of Lena’s grasp and scrawled, give me five minutes.

“Fine,” said Lena. “Tell your people they can call a judge. I’m sure they’ll have all the proper papers and warrants and court orders and it will all be nice and legal.”

“I don’t want it to be this way,” said Supergirl. “I want to work together with you. I believe in you, Lena.”

“You have a hell of a way of showing it.”

Supergirl huffed, turned, and headed for the balcony, taking off with such force that Lena stumbled back a few steps.

Lena waited, finally moving towards the door to close it, when a folded paper airplane sailed through the opening and came to rest on her desk. She closed the balcony door and grabbed the paper, quickly unfolding it.

They can track my suit. Meet me at the Big Belly on 49th. Leave your phone. Walk. Don’t worry about your safety, I’ll be watching. I’ll be in civilian clothes.

Lena crumpled the note in her pocket. The place Suoergirl meant was a half an hour walk, and Lena was more than a little nervous about walking it at night. So, she grabbed her .357 from her desk drawer and stuffed it in the kangaroo pocket of her hoodie, and took her private elevator to the ground floor.

When she walked up on the Big Belly, it was of course closed, dark inside with the chairs up on the tables. Lena tensed when she saw a figure approaching in the dark, much like she was, in joggers and a hoodie.

She relaxed when she saw Kara Danvers hiding in that hood. When they crossed paths, Lena stopped and began walking beside her.

“Supergirl said she would meet me herself,” said Lena. “I’m kind of surprised she sent you, Kara.”

“Keep your voice down,” Kara said, softly. “Follow me.”

Kara led her on a trek through downtown, making Lena rather nervous. This part of the city emptied out after hours and it was close to three in the morning, and they were walking alone on empty streets, finally turning off down an alley between two seemingly random buildings.

There, Kara stopped, and sighed.

“Can you really do it? Can you cure Kryptonite poisoning?”

“Yes,” Lena said, excited. “I think I can. I’m very close. I needed the samples I procured so that I could perfect the process.”

Kara’s shoulders hitched a little. She faced away from Lena, and took a step towards the brick wall in front of her.

“They have a device that your brother created. It can disperse Kryptonite through the entire atmosphere in a few minutes.”

“I’m familiar with it.”

“It’s how they control me. I don’t know where they keep it, only that they have it. If I step out of line, they’ll poison the atmosphere and kill me.”

“Kill you? Kara what are you talking about? You’re not…”

“I told you I’d meet you in civilian clothes. When I wrote the note in your office.”

Lena stumbled back a step, trying to process what she just heard. Kara was talking as if…

She turned around, facing Lena, and stood to her full height, removing her glasses without sweeping back her hood, and met Lena’s gaze.

“But… you’re…”

“Hush,” Kara said, softly. “I’ll explain everything. Right now we need to move and move fast, before they figure out what I’m up to. How fast can you finish your cure?”

“I need a few days and some things from my lab.”

Kara brought her wrist up and spoke into a hidden radio. “Alex, get ready to move. We’ll need to get to Lena’s lab before the DEO does.”

Lena blinked a few times. What the hell was going on?

“I need to get you someplace safe, then I’ll get you up to speed,” said Kara. “Will you come with me?”

Lena’s heart pounded in her chest. “Where?”

“Safety. I promise, I’ll keep you safe. You’re too dangerous to the DEO, Lena. They’re going to move on you, and I had to beg to give you a chance. Tomorrow someone is going to come make you an offer you can’t refuse, and I’m not going to let that happen.”

Lena nodded.

“Alright then. I’m with you. Let’s go.”

Kara nodded.

“Good. Lena Luthor, welcome to the Justice League.”

I had a weird urge to play with the idea of a world where the DEO are a black ops unit that controls Supergirl with the threat of Kryptonite and Lena helps her take them down and save the world. Of course Kara has to be all dramatic about naming the resistance movement.