#he is among us I swear

[wimbledonstrawberry]

"not Ikea bag"

[daily-grian]

don’t speak to him or his son ever again

[guinevereslancelot]

fifth graders will look you right in the eye and say shit like "crap isn't a swear word" and "well our teacher lets us say it" and "no, mr. [name] says crap all the time and he lets us say it"

[sysig]

It’s not going away, so get used to it! (Patreon)

[aleki-lives-here]

I watched an mdzs animatic with a song from wicked, and something in my mind finally clicked and now I want to scream about how similar my current and my past hyperfixations are.

"Good news, the witch is dead!" like

"No good deeds" is such a "character pushed to their limits" song. Imagine it before the nightless city. The first scream, as Wen Ning and Wen Qing walk away. The chanting as he lies there, unable to move, praying for them to be well. Memories of people he loves: Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli, Lan Zhan, the Wen siblings.

"Was I really seeking good, or just seeking attention?" -- as he looks at the burial mounds and leaves.

"If I cannot succeed, Fiero, saving you, I promise no good deed will I attempt to do again." -- as he learns about Wen Qing and Wen Ning's death.

Ending with him arriving at Nightless city and pulling out the flute.

I want to see it animated so much!

My skills are so annoyingly not up to the task. Maybe if my hyperfixation survives long enough that I learn drawing and animating things well? It'll be the third mdzs animatic I really wish to do one day. Maybe one day.

[possumkingluca]

dnd story time so.. the party I'm in was camping out on this island to avoid a giant fucking sea serpent swimming around while we figure out what we're gonna do about it, and while on final watch our druid saw a sahuagin peeking around the corner at us.. so they woke us up because gross fish person alert and also what the fuck are they supposed to about it. They might speak every language in the phb but the very specific ones??? They don't speak fish person. Also they only have a +1 in charisma and also are the bluntest mf alive they are NOT allowed to speak. now we are awake and very clearly see it trying to hide behind a rock and we start plotting how the hell we're gonna deal with it. I play an eloquence bard. I have universal speech. I wont be able to understand it because universal speech is a dumb feature BUT idk we can play charades or some shit. Draw in the sand maybe ???

fun little fact: i fucked up a conversation with someone really bad the prior session (i was eepy and couldn't think very well :((( ) and ended up buying a dried fish from them to escape. fighter: you could offer them that fish me: i could..... .....does that count as cannibalism??? DM: ...probably not So i walk up close enough to it so i can use universal speech and held out the dried fish me: would you like fish?

sahuagin: *very carefully walks up* and

ok. so the sahuagin goes back into the water for a minute and.. out comes, a lot of them. ten fish people. ten. me: ... *turns back to our druid* WE'RE GONNA NEED MORE FISH. druid: *starts frantically catching fish* so we start a like fish conveyor belt with our druid catching the fish, throwing it to our fighter, and our fighter tossing it to me to offer. eventually the fighter joins in fishing and luckily they both have a good survival skill so it goes pretty quickly. then out comes one that is a.. woman? maybe? i don't know fish person anatomy, why would i know fish person anatomy this is like the third/fourth time i've ever seen an ocean. and while she's fucking staring me down another one comes out who is much. much. bigger. we just mugged a young dragon (yeah this session started out with us mugging a dragon, happens all the time don't worry about it) and this fucker is the like same height as it. and he has four arms. (kackles is that you ???? (no it's not he's much shorter. and also a bug.)) me: ..do i need like two fish for each of his pair of arms????? priestess sahuagin: touches her finger to my head me: oh shit she gon blow my head off she did not. instead she cast tounges on me. great. because I WANT to have a conversation with these people. so they complement our fishing ability and big fuck asks us if we take commissions.

me: what the fuck do they mean commissions druid's player: say yes. me: ...yes. they want us to catch 50 pounds of fish.

They are offering payment though! Got a pearl necklace worth about 1000 gold.. some earrings worth i think about 500 gold idk i forgor and a big ass gold ship steering wheel worth who fucking knows what the hell ??? They claim they got these from 'the beast' which we assumed meant a ship Now back to the 50 pounds of fish issue. We do have a solution to this problem. Kill the sea serpent and take 50 pounds of meat from it. Solving two problems at once. We give these guys their fish, and we deal with the serpent. But because we are sometimes smart I ask about their opinion on the serpent so we don't like accidentally kill their friend or some shit cause that'd be certified not good

"We care not for the monster who protects the beast" ...sea serpents eat ships.... W A I T. TANAZIR?????

so. this campaign started as a Strixhaven campaign that we continued on after graduation. currently one of our many tasks on our quest to save the world (why are we here what are we doing none of us should be here besides the fighter) is to find where all the founder dragons are hiding. We've already found Shadrix Silverquill and we guessed that Tanazir Quandrix (women in S.T.E.M!!!!) was around here and during mine and the fighter's watches we saw her come out of this whirpool thing and talk to the sea serpent. these fuckers stole from one of the fucking founder dragons. how? how the hell do you accomplish that??

and also now we know that the serpent is friends with Tanazir so we can't kill it because that'd probably piss her off and uh let's not do that. (also we should probably return the treasure to her :((( our money :(((( don't you know robbing two young dragons of their entire hoard is simply not nearly enough money ??? (we are greedy and also lunatics)) anyway okay so not killing the serpent. and we are 100% gonna have to backstab our new fish friends :((( we end up deciding to send our fighter (who has a cloak of the manta ray) and our druid (can just.. become a fish) to go into deeper water to hopefully find some tuna, while me and our wizard (he's here too, just has been comatose cause his player wasn't here. gonna be a fun surprise for him next session.) stay here to make sure the sahuagin don't think we're scamming them or something. Also i can compensate for our wizard's zero in charisma, and while our fighter has a -1 in charisma he was a quandrix student so he'll probably be ok if they encounter the serpent maybe. the sahuagin asked how long it would take for us to get the fish (it would take maybe a week maybe longer) so with a not technically a lie (the DM let me use persuasion thank god because i can't get lower than a 21 in persuasion (silver tounge rizz)) i convinced them that'd it take about two weeks BUT if they provided us a harpoon (the fighter wanted one) it'd only take a week-ish Before our druid and fighter could escape the sahuagin start circling around them.. singing? some ritual's going on, mayhaps blessing their trip. maybe. and the fuckin priestess one comes up to me and starts having a conversation. Priestess Sahuagin: Are you of faith? Me: /i don't follow any gods i'm just an english major. welp the founder dragons are like almost gods so Shadrix can count sure why not/ ..yes Priestess Sahuagin: *asking me if i like the spell guiding bolt* (I forgot exactly what she said) Me: *considers the like 10 times i've ended a fight with a well timed crit using guiding bolt* yes. Priestess Sahuagin: *something about their shark god i don't remember i'm tired* druid's player: he's pretty neat Me: ...he's pretty neat. Priestess Sahuagin: He is pretty neat :) (help) anyway so I planned for our wizard and i to kinda hang out on the beach while we wait for the other two to return. the sahuagin had other plans. They ask if we have gills (no) They ask what we are

me: do they want an actual answer ??? DM: yeah me: ...im a lizardfolk ...*points at fighter* he's a dragonborn *points at druid* they're a tiefling (the sahuagin have no fucking clue what the hell (heh) a tiefling is and maybe that's for the best) and *points at wizard* he's a human. Sahuagin: *death staring our wizard* that explains why he's elf like. ??why does everyone have beef with elves?? let's just leave out the fact our druid has an elven husband. and be glad we didn't bring him with us on this trip. i mean he's not a sea elf but y'know anyway so the session ends with our wizard and i about to be kidnapped and dragged to the ocean where the sahuagin live (im pretty sure we were given potions of water breathing which is good cause i would prefer not drowning.) and the druid and fighter setting out to go get a shit ton of fish pray for our souls

@datfatnerd are you proud us

[ihazmunchies91]

Have a baby Narold.

[les4elliewilliams]

❝𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝚰𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐃𝚰𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑.❞

ghostface!bestfriend!ellie ✗ fem reader

❝𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝚰 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔.❞

⚠︎︎︎.ᐟ ⌞warnings ⊹ cw⌝ ﹕ approx 20k words. (ik im sorry im always yapping too much.) headcanons!! mention of blood/murders, drugs usage. childhoodbestfriend!𝑒, perv!𝑒, ghostface!𝑒, switch!𝑒, v light knife play (𝑒!receiving+giving), handcuffing ghostface😊, oral/fingering, strap-on sex (r!receiving), extremely jealous/obsessive!𝑒, ellie gets off to eepy reader and they get off together on the couch yummyy... i think that's it?? ps ignore that ugly ass edited pic pls😭

.ᐟ.ᐟ ⌞author's note⌝ ﹕ this isn't like the movies, it's a 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 story. proofread by @sapphichotmess!!

#.ᐟ ⌞taglist⌝ ﹕ @aouiaa @kaykeryyy @whoucallingalesbian @taylormarieee @co0kiemuncher @myathegoat @joordynn @iamhellagae @hearts444olivia @ion-news @broskideedle13 @ladyofcain @cheyisagirlkisser

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

˳·˖𖤐 During her childhood, Ellie had a stern and intimidating demeanor that unintentionally scared other kids away. They’d be too scared to approach her, let alone play or talk with her, which left her in solitude most of the time. She got used to playing by herself and spent her recess in the corner of the playground. During lunchtime, she would eat the dino nuggets that her dad had meticulously prepared for her while sitting alone at the lunch table (being picky about food, she only ever had dino nuggets and was firmly convinced that regular nuggets did not taste as good). She seemed to find solace in drawing and would spend hours sketching in her green notebook, lost in her world of imagination.

˳·˖𖤐 Maybe, just maybe, the kids’ fear toward Ellie wasn’t unmotivated. She loved to cause chaos and conflicts among the other kids. She would start small fights, encourage others to fight, push kids off swings, or even break their toys. Even more concerning was that she seemed to get a kick out of other people’s misery and would laugh at their distress and discomfort, which was why many feared and avoided being near her.

˳·˖𖤐 Joel would often find himself rushing to his daughter’s school, trying his best to convince the school officials that his sweet little girl could never do anything to hurt other kids. Despite being smart and quiet, Ellie would sometimes find herself in trouble for things she claimed she didn’t do. She always stood her ground, insisting that if she ever did start something, it was only because another child had done something to her first. And, of course, her father always believed her and would go to great lengths to defend his baby girl.

Once, Joel was called to the principal’s office. When he entered the room, he saw the principal sitting behind his desk, looking stern and serious. Joel's heart sank, he could sense something was off. “My daughter would n—” Joel tried to speak, but the principal cut him off without missing a beat. “The teacher saw her. She pushed Jason off the swing and kicked him,” the principal stated, his tone firm and authoritative. Joel's eyes immediately darted to his sweet little angel, who was crying and pouting, giving him doe eyes as she shook her head to dismiss all the accusations. “No, Dad, I didn’t, I swear. He hit me first,” she said, trying to defend herself. “Heard what she said? She didn’t do it.” Joel always fell for that little dotted face. He would still stand by his beliefs no matter what the teachers or other kids' parents said. His baby girl would never hurt anyone. He couldn’t imagine her doing anything wrong.

˳·˖𖤐 You were never really scared of her—the quiet, introverted girl. In fact, you were quite intrigued by her. She always seemed to be the odd one out, sitting in the corner of the classroom or standing far away across the playground, watching everything and everyone so intently. What really fascinated you about her was her attention to detail. She never missed a thing and could remember every single detail of everything, almost like she had a photographic memory or something. 

˳·˖𖤐 Ellie was fascinated with you. Ever since you helped Ellie pick up the pencils she had accidentally dropped, she couldn’t help but notice your gentle and soft smile, and from that moment on, she found herself unable to take her eyes off you. She’d just sit across the room, sipping on her apple juice box as she studied you curiously. To her, you were a delicate and pretty little girl, reminding her of a flower. She had always thought other kids weren’t as bright as her and weren’t good enough to be her friends, which led her to isolate herself from others. She thought of herself as better than everyone her age, and it was also why she would beat them up, finding them too stupid to put up with. But you were different. There was something about you that stood out to her, something that her childish brain couldn’t quite put a finger on. It wasn’t just your kindness, although that certainly played a big part in it. There was something more that made her feel like she wanted to be your friend, your close friend.

˳·˖𖤐 Even as a little kid, Ellie had always been a strategic and calculated person.

One day, she saw you playing in the sandbox and felt the urge to approach you, but she needed an excuse to do so. So, she concocted a plan. She told another kid that you had said something mean about him, knowing that he would confront you about it—Jason was a little of a troublemaker from what she noticed, so she was certain it would work. In fact, when the little boy confronted you, and you denied it, he quickly became angry and pushed you, causing you to fall into the sand. The sand got all over your beautiful frilly clothes, making you feel embarrassed and upset, your bottom lip wobbling. Ellie saw this as her chance to approach you and comfort you. She walked over to you and pushed the other kid, causing him to storm off. She quickly helped you up and offered you a slight smile, “You can’t let other kids treat you like that.” You nodded in agreement, grateful for her help, and threw yourself in her arms, hugging her tightly. “Thank you so much,” you uttered. She nodded and squeezed you, rubbing your back. “Maybe we can watch each other’s back from now on,” she suggested with a shy smile, the one that always fooled her dad as well. You were beyond ecstatic at her offer. You had long admired her from afar, and the idea of being friends with her was something you had dreamed of for a long time, but your shy nature had always caused you to keep to yourself. Even to you, she seemed smarter compared to other kids. “Can you be my friend?” you asked with a toothless grin on your face, batting your lashes at her. “Yes, I would love to,” followed by “Can I show you my dinosaur collection?” From that day on, you and Ellie became close friends, and her strategic and protective nature was always there to help you when you needed it.

˳·˖𖤐 You and Ellie have been inseparable, going through all the ups and downs of school and puberty together. She has been a constant source of support, always by your side through your best and worst days. You have shared countless memories and experiences over the years, and she has always been a true friend in every sense of the word. She was always there to protect you and stood up for both of you in any situation. You did everything together—you laughed, cried, and confided in each other like you were the only two people in the world. You shared all your first-time experiences, like getting drunk for the first time, going to parties, and even sneaking out of your house at night just to see her or hang out. Her father quickly became like a second dad to you, someone you could look up to and trust. You have always felt like a part of their small family, spending time together, sharing meals, and celebrating holidays with them. Your friendship has only grown stronger over the years.

˳·˖𖤐 During middle school, Ellie’s behavior remained consistent. Even in the new environment, she continued to find ways to get herself in trouble. She had a habit of talking back to teachers, getting into physical fights with other students, and arguing with pretty much everyone, almost as if she couldn’t contain herself; causing trouble was second nature to her. It was evident that she found pleasure in disrupting the peace wherever she went, which often landed her in serious trouble. Not that she cared, of course.

“Miss Williams, get your shoes off the desk. You are not at home, and you cannot do as you please,” The middle-aged teacher, who appeared to be in her late fifties, scolded her with a stern voice, her eyes narrowing with disapproval as she spoke. Her wrinkled forehead was furrowed with a frown, and her thin lips pursed tightly together. The teacher’s glasses, once perched on the bridge of her nose earlier, now hung from a chain around her neck as she continued to chastise the auburnette.

With a mischievous smirk on her face, the copper-brown-haired girl replied, “You can bet your wrinkled ass I’ll do as I please,” causing the whole class to erupt in laughter.

˳·˖𖤐 Ellie couldn’t help but feel a surge of anger when Cassie, a girl from math class, called you stupid. You were her best friend, and she couldn't bear the thought of someone insulting you like that. She wouldn’t let anyone walk all over you. So, that same day, she approached Cassie after class with a fake calm demeanor and explained that her comments were hurtful and disrespectful. She initially tried to remain ‘polite’ to make you happy, but the situation quickly escalated to a physical fight. Unfortunately, this resulted in Cassie ending up in the nurses’ office with a broken bone. But she couldn’t help it. She had to look out for you, and Cassie fucking deserved it.

˳·˖𖤐 It was always just you and Ellie hanging out together. Other kids weren’t allowed to join you. Everyone in your school thought of you two as weirdos, but you didn’t care, both preferring each other’s company over anyone else’s.

˳·˖𖤐 You spent everyday together, either at her place or yours. Homework, video games, comics, and movie marathons filled your time, but the one thing that truly brought you together was your shared obsession with horror movies. You’d watch a new one each day, feeding off the adrenaline of jump scares and twisted plots. Ellie seemed to devour every film, but her favorites were always the slasher flicks—especially the Scream series. The thrill of being scared out of your mind became your thing. Soon, though, it wasn’t just the horror movies that captivated Ellie. She developed a deep fascination for true crime documentaries, and afternoons blurred into nights as the two of you sat in her room, binging tales of real-life terror, lost in your macabre little world together. You both would sit there, transfixed, eyes glued to the horror playing out on the screen, completely enthralled by the spine-tingling and mysterious events unfolding before you. The chilling stories on the screen drew you in, and your fascination with the morbid and the inexplicable would lead you to spend countless hours online reading creepypastas. 

˳·˖𖤐 You were each other’s first kiss.

One Friday night, you went to Cassie’s house for a small party—yes, the same Cassie that Ellie beat up and broke her arm. You guessed she had invited Ellie to get on her good side, considering their last fight. The poor girl was tired of fearing Ellie, but Ellie didn’t like her one bit and never would. Your best friend was reluctant at the idea of being surrounded by too many people, but you convinced her to go with you, saying it might’ve been fun to do something different for once. They kept teasing you, insinuating that you were more than just best friends. You were always around each other and touchy in ways that made them suspect that you were girlfriends. They noticed how you frequently held hands, hugged, and even kissed each other on the cheek. So, during a truth-or-dare game, they dared you to kiss your best friend. You looked over at Ellie, feeling shy and uncertain. You were waiting for her to say something to stop you from going along with the dare, but to your surprise, she didn’t. In fact, she had a small smile on her face, which made you feel more nervous for some reason. Feeling hesitant, you finally mustered up the courage to ask her, “Can I kiss you?” Your cheeks heated up as you spoke. The freckled girl rolled her eyes, trying to make you feel like you were being dramatic, “It’s just a game.” Finally, you leaned in and gave her a soft peck on the lips. Everyone in the room giggled and clapped their hands, but you couldn’t shake off the feeling that something had changed between you and Ellie, yet neither of you dared to acknowledge it.

˳·˖𖤐 Ellie had always been very open about her attraction to girls. She never cared about what other classmates might have thought about her preferences. Even though they were not always accepting, they never dared to say anything negative to her face, fearing Ellie’s reaction to their comments. She openly rejected guys who showed interest in her, saying that she was not interested because she was a lesbian. Always commenting about pretty girls—and man, if that didn’t make you jealous. You’d often feel this intense jealousy inside you every time she talked to other girls or whenever other girls would approach her, even if she always rejected them, 99,9% of the time.

˳·˖𖤐 Why 99,9% and not 100%? Well, because another girl named Cat entered the picture. From the very start, it was clear that Cat was head over heels for Ellie, and how could you blame her? She’d blush every time Ellie glanced her way, always laughing obnoxiously at your best friend’s puns, even when they were terrible—and that was, like, all the time. She would also go out of her way to shower her with small gifts, all of which Ellie would accept with a sly grin that you found infuriating. She’d get her snacks and pass her cute little notes during classes, and the worst part was that your friend began to reciprocate Cat’s feelings, and the two of them grew even closer. You tried to accept their ‘friendship’ but found it increasingly difficult; watching them together became too much to bear, and you knew you had to take care of it. You never liked sharing, not even as a kid, so why start now with the most important person to you?

As the lesson dragged on, you grew more restless, your thoughts tangled in a knot of anxiety. You needed to have a little chat with Cat. Urgently. Unable to focus any longer, you raised your hand, asking the teacher if you could go to the toilet. When he gave you a nod in response, you hurried out of the classroom, your pulse quickening as you slipped through the quiet hallways. Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out a small Post-it note, your fingers trembling slightly as you scrawled a quick message:

“Meet me in the bathroom after third period. — Ellie :)  ”

You carefully folded the note and slid it into Cat's locker, hoping she would see it soon. The next few hours felt like an eternity. You kept checking the clock, counting down the minutes until the third period. Finally, the bell rang, and you made your way to the bathroom, hoping Cat would be there. As you entered the bathroom, you saw her standing there with a big smile. The same smile that faded in an instant as she saw you instead of the girl she liked. You greeted her with a mischievous grin and asked her if she was waiting for Ellie. “Yeah, she told me to come here after third period,” the raven-haired girl responded, looking puzzled. “Did she, or did I?” you giggled. Cat took a small step back, suddenly feeling creeped out by the way you were looking at her, almost as if you were planning to hurt her. You had never started fights in school or caused any sort of trouble, though Cat feared you. Maybe it was the endless rude comments you threw her way at any chance you got or the little things you did when Ellie wasn’t watching to make her feel threatened. “Is this some sick joke?” surprise flashed across her features before a more terrorized look replaced it. “Stop seeing her, don’t come near her, stop talking to her, don’t even look her way,” you demanded. Your tone was firm, almost possessive, as you stepped closer. She backed away with each step you took. “Wha-” Cat tried to speak, but you cut her off. “I catch you lookin’ at her again, I won’t be as nice.” you threatened. “I won’t—I’ll stop talking to her,” she stammered nervously, her voice trembling. A few sniffles escaped her before she ran off, mumbling her sorrys on her way out. “I hope you mean it.” She was already out of the bathroom, but you were sure she had heard you loud and clear. And you weren’t even gonna feel bad. She deserved it. How dare she come near the most important person in your life? What was she planning to do? Take her away from you? You sure as hell weren’t gonna let that happen.

˳·˖𖤐 Ellie was struggling to understand why Cat had suddenly started ignoring her like a deadly disease. It was almost perplexing that the brunette wouldn’t even look at her, and whenever Ellie tried to approach her to talk, Cat would leave the conversation abruptly, only briefly glancing over at her. It was particularly puzzling to the redhead as she could not recall any misunderstanding or disagreement between them that could have caused such a drastic change in Cat’s attitude towards her—for once, she was nice to someone who wasn’t you, and this was the result? She felt confused and soon enough began to harass the girl, making sure her life was a living hell at school. How dare Cat ignore her? She wasn’t even that smart or pretty. Ellie only ever liked the attention she'd get from her; she was there just to boost her ego, and now she was ignoring her?

˳·˖𖤐 As you both entered high school, you remained inseparable, sticking to the shadows for the first few years, trying to blend in and avoid unwanted attention. Neither of you joined clubs or sports teams, preferring to keep to yourselves and steer clear of socializing. But by junior year, the routine started to feel stifling, and restlessness set in. You both realized you wanted more—something bigger than just being on the sidelines. Your best friend took the leap first, joining the soccer team, eager to break out of the monotony and possibly make new friends. She thrived there, quickly falling in love with the game’s intensity and the adrenaline that came with it. She never lost that sense of superiority, though—deep down, she believed she was different, better than the people around her. She stood out, and she knew it. You, on the other hand, joined the cheerleaders team. Dancing and performing had always been a passion, and it seemed like a perfect way to get involved. But as you spent time with other girls, you couldn’t help but notice how wrapped up they were in things that felt trivial to you—obsessed with popularity, looks, and gossip. It was hard to feel like you fit in, knowing damn well you didn’t. While your best friend thrived on her sense of superiority, you were left feeling like an outsider, trapped in a group you didn’t belong in.

˳·˖𖤐 Ever since you joined the cheerleading team, you stood out from the crowd. Your undeniable beauty did not go unnoticed, and soon enough, boys began to show interest in you. Every week, a different guy would try to catch your attention, hoping to ask you out or make a move on you. But Ellie was fiercely protective of you, claiming that none of these guys were good enough for you, whether it was a potential friend or partner. She would always find a way to scare them away, making it clear that you weren’t interested, always there reminding you that you were way too amazing for all of them and that no one could ever understand you like she did, even if they tried. She did not want anyone she deemed unworthy of your time to come close to you, and you liked it that way. To you, that was your definition of love.

“—so he just fell in front of the whole class, he couldn’t even-” You were interrupted by the sound of your name being called from across the room. Your best friend was out sick, missing all the juicy details, but before you could finish the story and turn to see who it was, the auburn-haired girl beside you spun around first. Her brows knit together almost instantly, and you could see the flicker of jealousy in her eyes. Her expression darkened as she processed the moment, clearly thrown off by the sudden attention directed your way. A kid you knew from theater class was walking toward you with a nervous smile, carefully holding a flower, making sure not to prick himself on the sharp thorns of the beautiful red rose. “Hey, I just wanted to ask you if-” He didn’t even need to finish his sentence—she was already prepared to go off on him as if he’d just insulted her entire family. In reality, he hadn’t even noticed a fuming Ellie standing right beside you. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, eyes locked on him with an intensity that made you sure if looks could kill, he’d already be dead. You opened your mouth to say something, but Ellie quickly raised her hand in front of you, silencing you instantly. She was going to handle this, just like always. “What makes you think she would ever go out with a loser like you?” Ellie hurled venomous words his way, leaving the poor guy stuttering and stumbling over his response. His face flushed bright red as if all the blood had rushed to his cheeks. He stood there, frozen in shock, his mouth hanging open like a fish gasping for air. His eyes darted nervously between you and the girl at your side, clearly unsure what to do next. He swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words to express himself, his expression desperate as if he was silently begging for a reaction from you, anything. But before he could even get a syllable out, Ellie cut him off again, shutting him down before he could speak. “Heard what I said? She is not interested,” she repeated, but this time, her voice was tinged with impatience. “I’m sorry, I just—take this.” He handed you the flower, looking utterly defeated. As soon as it was in your hands, he turned around and walked away hastily, like a puppy with its tail tucked between its legs. She watched the guy walk away, her leaf-hued eyes fixed on him, unwilling to let go of the sight. Her face was slightly scrunched up in annoyance, her mind clearly racing with thoughts as she seemed lost in her world. After a while, she finally tore her gaze away from him and glanced at you briefly as if snapping back to reality. She let out a small ‘tssssk’ under her breath, trying to collect herself and shake off the jealousy lingering in the pit of her stomach. “Jesus, El. You’re evil,” You let out a small giggle and brought your hand to your mouth to cover it up. “Might have to kill half the school just for you,” She suddenly joked with a grin. She snatched the rose out of your hand and threw it on the floor forcefully. Red petals scattered on the ground as you both continued walking. Ellie made sure to stomp on the flower. She always had a very dark humor, which sometimes left you wondering if she meant any of what she said. She always spoke in such a serious tone, but maybe it was just her sarcasm being that way. Her words were often laced with a hidden meaning, and she had a way of making you question your interpretations, but you laughed at her joke anyway.

˳·˖𖤐 So, were you surprised when a few students started going missing? 

˳·˖𖤐 The leader of the cheerleaders that always gave you a hard time? Gone.

˳·˖𖤐 Ellie was your biggest fan, always showing up to watch your cheerleading practices.  Manspreading on the benches, her gaze never left you, not daring to miss a single move. The sight of you, all sweaty with wisps of hair escaping your ponytail, only made you look cuter in her eyes. She loved seeing you in that little cheerleader uniform. Whenever you smiled and glanced at her, her heart would thunder in her chest. It was as if her whole world revolved around those fleeting glances and spontaneous smiles you’d throw her way. You were awfully adorable.

What Ellie found far less adorable was how the head cheerleader constantly picked on you, always putting you down. What frustrated her even more was that you just let it happen. In her mind, Amanda wasn’t better than you—no one could even come close to you. To Ellie, you were perfect, and she wished you could see it too. When she saw you walking toward her, she quickly set aside the leather-bound journal she had been scribbling in, placing it on the empty spot next to her as she greeted you with a warm smile.

“You’re doing great, beautiful,” She turned to grab her backpack, which had been thrown carelessly on the empty benches behind her. Her tattooed arm reached inside the already unzipped, worn-out bag. “Yeah, you say that, like, every single time.” You sat on the bench next to her, sweat beading on your forehead as you let out a slight huff, feeling winded after your practice. “‘s true though.” She pulled out a small towel and handed it to you with a gentle smile. She was always considerate, constantly looking out for you and ensuring you were taken care of. She expressed her love for you through these little gestures, like bringing things she thought you might need in her green backpack. Her obsession with you was apparent in how she hovered over you, but you couldn't deny that it was comforting to have someone care for you so deeply. That was love—real love—and you had never experienced that from anyone else.

“Goood, you’re so perfect,” you accepted the towel from her outstretched hand and began to pat your forehead, feeling some relief from the heat. But a little towel wasn’t the only thing she brought for you—she also handed you a refreshing bottle of water to quench your thirst and a cherry-flavored lollipop as a little treat. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of that beloved childhood candy in your hand. A soft smile spread across her lips when your words reached her ears, and she looked away, her gaze drifting toward the horizon. Her shoulders lifted ever so slightly in a subtle shrug, “Oh, I know” her elbows propped up on her knees as she leaned forward. She was deep in thought, and her hands were intertwined. You took a few sips of your water and unwrapped a lollipop, both of you fell silent, completely focused on watching Amanda, who was the target of Ellie's intense gaze, she was studying her. “She’s a bitch” the freckled girl next to you muttered under her breath. You hummed in agreement, savoring the sugary goodness. “Why do you even let her speak to you that way?” she shook her head in disapproval, you could feel her gaze on you even if you weren't looking at her. “What do you want me to do? She’s the leader, El. She’ll throw me out of the team if I confront her.” You reached up to your mouth and pulled the lollipop out with a loud smack noise, feeling a sense of defeat wash over you. Ellie expressed her disagreement with a small scoff that barely registered on her plump lips, almost imperceptible. She picked up her journal once again and resumed whatever she was doing, and the silence between the two of you fell once again, punctuated only by the sound of the pencil scratching across the page. When you looked down at her journal, you couldn’t help but notice a drawing she was making of Amanda. The drawing portrayed Amanda in a rather disturbing manner, physically harmed with a knife in her chest. The details of the drawing were quite graphic, and you could tell she had put a lot of effort and passion into it. “Oh, well...that's detailed,” you commented, still sucking on your lollipop, savoring the sweet taste in your mouth. You noticed a small curl of her lips as if she felt proud of her drawing skills. “But that’d be too messy,” you added, her head shot up to look at you. “Yeah? How would you do it then?” she asked, almost challenging you to come up with a better idea for the hypothetical scenario. “The bitch’s allergic to almonds,” Your eyes were fixed on Amanda, who was laughing with her friend. Ellie raised her brows at you, an amused smile appearing on her lips. “That’s it? A good ol’ accidental allergy reaction? Where’s the fun in that?” you shrugged at her words. “No blood, no traces, it’d be harder to get caught,” you explained, proving your point. It was logical and more calculative than her hypothesis. “True but stabbing her to death seems funnier, I dunno.” She inhaled deeply, leaning back into her bench, her back pressed on the benches behind her. “Hearing them beg for mercy, scream in pain, and the look in their eyes…” She went on, entirely absorbed in her twisted narration. As she spoke, the details grew darker and more grotesque with each word. You watched her, bewildered, struggling to tell if this was still just a “what if” game. When Ellie finally realized you hadn’t responded, she looked over at you—the familiar warmth in her eyes had drained away, leaving something sharper, emptier, a chill that made you feel as though you were staring into someone else entirely.

“And where would you hide the body?” you asked.

She smiled sadistically, almost as if she already had an answer ready for that question. “I know the perfect place for that kind of thing.” she put down her journal, her emeralds back on you as she told you about the place she had in mind. “No one would ever look there,” You agreed, giving her a nod, the cherry taste of the candy lingering as you let the sweetness melt off your tongue, an amused grin playing at the corners of your mouth. The plan was actually well-thought-out—impressively so.

“I told you,” she said softly, her gaze darted between your lips and the lollipop. “Oh? Want some?” you teased, holding the lollipop just a breath away from her. Slowly, you edged the glistening, saliva-coated candy toward her, and she parted her lips, wrapping them around it, savoring the artificial cherry taste with a quiet hum of satisfaction. Her fingers replaced yours on the stick, her fingertips brushing lightly over yours, lingering just a little too long. She held your gaze, her eyes softened, almost entranced, though the depth of that look was something you couldn’t quite place. In reality, she was gazing at you enamored, her pupils wide open, but you were completely oblivious to her feelings and failed to pick up on her infatuation. Shortly after that day, Amanda was gone. Disappeared into thin air, nowhere to be found. You knew it wasn’t adding up, especially when you asked Ellie about it. She’d be so nonchalant, like she had nothing to do with her it. But you knew she was lying. Did you care about that stupid cunt being gone? Absolutely not. You soon became the leader of the cheerleaders, and everyone looked up to you.

˳·˖𖤐 The girl who was grinding on you at Daniel’s party? Found dead the morning after.

˳·˖𖤐 The first few months of college had set in, and you were already drowning in a sea of assignments and deadlines, feeling overwhelmed and stressed out. To stay close to you, Ellie took the bold step of enrolling in the same college as you. She even went as far as to choose the same major─Psychology─just to be in the same classes as you, ensuring that you both had the same schedule, did the same assignments, and even hung out with the same people. 

˳·˖𖤐 It was ironic, really, how someone as anti-social and apathetic as her would pursue a field that involved studying human behavior and emotions. But she did it anyway because the mere thought of being away from you for even a second was unbearable to her. She didn’t want anyone else to get closer to you or share the dorm with you, so she followed you and moved in with you because no one could take care of you better than her. You both decided to get an apartment together to share the bills and responsibilities of living independently. Your parents were more than willing to support you financially, making sure that you had everything you needed for college and the apartment. You were attached by the hip, and wherever you went, she was there with you, and whenever she wasn't, you became nervous and anxious, wondering what she was doing and if everything was okay. It was as if you had become too dependent on her, and the thought of being alone scared you. But the dependency was mutual; she needed you just as much as you needed her.

˳·˖𖤐 Ellie was not a fan of parties and preferred staying home, indulging in horror movies while getting high with you. However, when you told her about Daniel’s Halloween party, she knew she had to accompany you to ensure your safety and protect you from any potential creeps. You had been eagerly waiting for Halloween, your favorite holiday, and Ellie didn't want you to miss the opportunity to dress up and have a good time. Despite her initial reluctance, she was somewhat excited, not for the party itself but because she finally had a reason to wear the ghostface costume that had been sitting in her closet, untouched and unused. 

Ellie was already ready, her costume simple but somehow annoyingly perfect—but that was the price that came with being effortlessly beautiful—and her Ghostface mask thrown lazily on her shoulder. She stood at the bathroom entrance, arms crossed, eyes unwavering as they followed you. You slipped into the tight black dress, pulling it into place with a little struggle as it hugged every curve. You, on the other side, loved taking care of every little detail of your makeup and costume, ensuring your appearance was always on point. “I hate these things,” she muttered under her breath, brow furrowed, though her gaze was anything but annoyed as it lingered on your body. With her hip pressed against the doorframe, she watched as you adjusted the neckline, her head tilted to the side, eyes scrutinizing each inch of skin exposed. “Why’d you have to pick something so revealing?” she asked, voice low, almost a grumble. You sighed, rolling your eyes playfully. “It’s Halloween, Ellie,” you huffed out, “I can wear whatever I want. Don't be such a buzz kill.” “I meant for Halloween parties. Last year, you were that damn sexy nurse. This year, it’s a tight dress. What’s next? A slutty bunny?” the freckled girl quipped, her lips curling up into a wry smile as she raised an eyebrow at you, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She let out a light chuckle, the sound echoing softly in the small bathroom. “And you’re here complaining,” you retorted with a mischievous grin as you reached for your high heels and effortlessly slid your feet into them. You took a few confident steps towards her, giving her a complete view of your stylish outfit. Her eyes roamed up and down your body. Your dress hugged every curve, revealing just enough skin to accentuate her drool. She licked her lips, imagining what she could do with you in that skimpy outfit, but she had to keep her hands to herself, unfortunately.  “You look fucking amazing.” 

You gave her a soft smile, turning toward the mirror and reaching for your makeup bag on the countertop. “Just need to fix my makeup, and we’re all set,” you informed her, pulling out your favorite berry pink gloss and a tube of mascara, both essentials for tonight. Ellie let out a low chuckle from the doorway, fingers tapping lazily on the frame. “You’re gonna make me want to commit murder tonight,” she joked, eyes flicking over you as you leaned in closer to the mirror. Without looking away from your reflection, you rolled your eyes, your long lashes nearly brushing against your brows. “Oh, shut up. You’ll survive,” you replied, carefully gliding the gloss over your lips. She sighed, tipping her head back against the doorframe. “Honestly, I don’t know why we’re even going. It’s gonna be full of drunk assholes, all crowding around like moths.” “C’mon, El, it’s gonna be fun,” you insisted, catching her eye in the mirror. She rolled her eyes, exhaling dramatically. “Oh, yeah, can’t wait to watch people hitting on you,” she drawled, her voice heavy with sarcasm. You snorted, giving her a smirk as you grabbed your mascara. “Well, thank God I’ll have you by my side, scaring them all away.” “Damn right,” she shot back, and you both chuckled. Finishing up, you turned on your heels to face her, your eyes locking with hers. The two of you were only inches apart now, close enough to share each unspoken word in the air between you. “So, what do you think? How do I look?” you questioned, seeking her approval, though you knew the answer already. Ellie’s gaze drifted over you, her lips twitching into a scoff. “You already know you look hot,” she murmured, unable to hide a small smirk. She seemed momentarily lost as she looked at you, her green eyes flitting from your lips to your eyes, drawn in despite herself. You felt a pulse of satisfaction at her reaction, the way her attention lingered on you. “Ellie…” you murmured, leaning a bit closer, your voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver down her spine. She licked her lips almost instinctively, her gaze dropping to your glossy ones, and the air between you grew thick, the energy snapping with tension. “...Yeah?” she breathed, her voice barely audible. Her breath hitched as you inched closer before coming to a halt. You smirked, tipping your head to the side. “Can I be your helpless victim?” you teased, catching her off guard with the unexpected line. Ellie’s face contorted into one of confused disbelief, and before you could hold it back, laughter escaped you at her expression. In response, she gave your shoulder a playful shove, rolling her eyes as she fought a smile. “Fuck you,” she groaned, a hint of laughter in her voice, and she ducked out of the bathroom, completely flustered, leaving you grinning after her.

When you arrived at the party, your best friend was glued to your side. She didn’t want you to be alone for even a moment, telling you that she’d stay sober to keep an eye on you in case you decided to drink. However, despite her best efforts, she lost track of you for just a few minutes. When she finally found you, she swore she felt her whole organs sink. You were dancing with a girl. Everything seemed to slow down, and jealousy and pure rage quickly built up inside her as she registered that girl’s hands guiding your hips as she ground on your ass and her lips devoured your neck. When your gaze met hers, you couldn’t help but notice the striking green color of her eyes had turned into an intense, almost ominous shade. Her jaw was tightly clenched, and you could feel a sense of discomfort creeping up on you. It was like you had crossed an invisible line and were now doing something you shouldn’t do. Almost instinctively, you pushed the girl off of you, and before you could give the drunken girl an explanation, Ellie was already walking toward you.

“We’re going back home,” She spoke with a harsh, demanding tone. She grabbed your wrist tightly and forcefully pulled you away from the girl you were dancing with. You didn't even have a chance to say goodbye or explain the situation as she dragged you away.

“Why are you acting like this? Can’t I make friends?” Your words were slightly slurred, the tipsiness settling in as you tried to pull your wrist from her grip, but Ellie’s hold was firm. You didn’t want to leave the party yet; the night had just started and had been so much fun, and her urgency to get you out only made disappointment grow. The music and chatter gradually faded as she dragged you both toward the exit.

“Didn’t look like a friend to me,” she muttered, voice sharp with an edge that cut through your drunk haze. “Looked more like she wanted to fuck you right there in front of everyone—in front of me.” She cast a glance back at the party, the girl long gone already. “Besides,” she added, “—you have me. I don’t see why you need her.” There was an ache in her tone as if she felt betrayed by your actions, a hidden desperation she was trying to keep under wraps. Couldn’t you see? She was right there, ready to be everything you needed, the one person who knew you better than anyone else. You narrowed your eyes, pushing her, testing her. “So what if she did want to fuck me? What are you, my girlfriend?” The words came out in a perfectly thought-out taunt to poke the emotions she preferred to keep hidden under the surface. You couldn’t deny that you’d thought about it too—what it would be like to actually be with her. Her green eyes darkened, shifting from their usual warmth to something intense and possessive, jealousy sparking in the depths. It was rare for you both to argue, but this time it felt like there was something deeper brewing beneath the surface, something that had been sitting there gathering dust, waiting for the right moment to bubble out like scorching lava. There was a palpable tension in the air, more-than-friendly feelings in your eyes. Even a fool would’ve been able to see the unspoken feelings and desires that neither of you could express aloud. Perhaps it was the fear of rejection or the uncertainty of how the other person felt kept you both from taking that step. “I just don’t want you getting hurt or taken advantage of.” She lied, her words sharp, unyielding, and tone laced with frustration and anger. That wasn’t a complete lie, but it was still not the whole truth. She took a slow, deep breath to calm herself down. Gradually, her tense body relaxed, and her previously sharp tone softened. “You’re all I have.” As she spoke again, her eyes, which had been stern, took on a gentler expression, and you could sense vulnerability in her voice, suddenly yearning for ‘reassurance’. “I’m sorry for being rough. It’s just… seeing anyone else with you just… fuck, I don’t know why it pisses me off so much.”  Ellie wanted you to believe she was reacting out of fear because she didn’t want to lose you. But her motives were more complex than that. While it was true that she was afraid of losing you, her actions were purely driven by a sense of selfishness. She strongly believed that you were meant to be together and that it was only a matter of time until you realized she was the one for you. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “No one could ever replace you, and I hope you know that.” With a gentle tug of her costume, you pulled her close. Your arms wrapped tightly around her, and you could feel the weight of her body press against yours as she leaned into you. As you held her, you could feel the tension slowly start to melt away, replaced by a familiar sense of safety that usually came with being in her arms. “No, you’re right. I’m not your girlfriend, you can do whatever you want—fuck whoever you want.” Her voice quivered with hesitation, and her heart felt like it was weighed down by a heavy burden. She almost sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than anything, the words tasting sour on her tongue. She knew it wasn’t normal to be so possessive of your best friend, no one acted this way toward their friends. So what was she supposed to do? Lock you up in a glass cage and never let you go? Although the idea was tempting she knew she had to set you free─free enough to find someone at least, even if it felt extremely wrong. What were the chances it would last?

˳·˖𖤐 Despite her promise to let you go, to let you be with whoever you wanted, the girl you’d danced with that night was found dead the following day, her body left in a state so brutal it was as if every ounce of someone’s anger had been carved into her. The pieces didn’t quite fit, but you couldn’t bring yourself to confront it—not yet. Maybe it was all just a coincidence, a horrible coincidence.

˳·˖𖤐 And yet, every time the news flashed across the screen or a passing conversation brought it up, her casual comments made your blood run cold.

“Oh, what a shame,” she’d murmur, not a hint of genuine sympathy in her tone.  “Guess this is what happens when you hoe around,” she’d remark, her voice steady, an almost imperceptible smirk ghosting her lips. “Hm… sucks. ‘s not even her best picture,” she’d add, a detached sort of amusement glinting in her eyes.

˳·˖𖤐 When you tried to confront her and ask questions that had been gnawing at your mind, her responses were so calm—too calm, too controlled. Her voice was smooth as she answered, almost as if rehearsed as she tried to make you feel ridiculous for even asking.

“I was with you last night. What are you implying?” she’d say, her tone just soft enough to make you question yourself. “You sound crazy right now,” she’d whisper, eyebrows raised in concern. “Maybe all these murders going on are messing with your head.”

With every word, she seemed to pull you deeper into self-doubt, her gaze softening, her voice laced with an almost painful sweetness. “Are you listening to yourself right now? I love you, but… you’re scaring me. You’re being paranoid.”

˳·˖𖤐 Her words lingered, a shadow in your mind until you couldn’t tell if it was your sanity or hers that was starting to slip.

˳·˖𖤐 The third person to disappear into thin air was your boyfriend.

˳·˖𖤐 Shortly after that heated argument with your best friend, you got into your first relationship. She gave you a little more freedom to talk to people, to socialize, but her jealousy flared whenever she saw you with him—or anyone else, for that matter.

God, why him? she’d ask herself, the question gnawing at her each time she saw the two of you together. He wasn’t exceptionally bright, his style was awful, and, to her, he wasn’t even remotely attractive. Whenever he was around, she’d mock him or throw out casual, biting jokes. She always seemed to be the only one laughing. Strangely enough, her snide remarks never fazed him—he never seemed intimidated by her like other guys who quickly fell away, discouraged or unnerved after a few seconds of her scrutiny. But not him. He stuck around, seemingly immune to her attempts to chase him off. So she took care of him. You were left with nothing but a single message, his name lighting up your screen in a sudden, unexpected end. He said he had to break things off because he was moving out of town, needing a “clean break,” a “fresh start.” The words felt hollow, calculated, and as you read through the message, your emotions twisted—hurt, anger, betrayal, all swirling within you. It was your first relationship, and he had chosen to end it over a text message without any explanation or warning. You felt like you meant nothing to him, and the fact that he disappeared from your life without as much as a goodbye added insult to injury. You were upset, not because you were particularly in love with him, but because you hated the feeling of being rejected. You had always been in control, the one rejecting people, so it was a blow to your ego to be on the receiving end of a breakup. 

˳·˖𖤐 Ellie, of course, had been there for you, providing support and care during this difficult time. She had to be here, because what kind of friend would she be if she wasn't there for you for something she had caused?

She squeezed you tighter, those strong, toned arms wrapping around you with an unbreakable and relentless grip. Her breath was hot on your neck as she murmured against your ear, lips grazing your skin with a smug smirk. “I told you this would happen,” she’d mutter, words slipping out with that intoxicating blend of annoyance and affection. She’d let her slender, cold fingers trace your spine in a way that left a shiver behind, and her hand would possessively rest on the small of your back, pulling you impossibly closer. “No one—no one will ever love you like I do. No one knows you like this. He could never do what I can.” “You should’ve known better, angel.” There was a dark satisfaction in her voice, almost sounding like she was taunting you, leaning in just close enough for you to feel the heat of every word against your flesh. “Told you he wasn’t the one for you, baby girl.” 

˳·˖𖤐 Not only did Ellie ensure that your boyfriend would never come anywhere near you, but now she seemed to be spending more time than ever clinging close to you, cuddling with you, and sharing the bed with you—all under the guise of offering you comfort. 

˳·˖𖤐 Your friendship had always been intense and boundaryless, it had never been anything but healthy. And it had always been increasingly clear to anyone looking in from the outside that your relationship was more than platonic. Ellie had always been obsessed with you, and her love for you had bordered on devotion. But while others could see this, you remained oblivious to her true feelings, always wondering if she liked you back.

˳·˖𖤐 And that’s when things started to change. Maybe it was the fact that you now lived together and got to spend every second with each other, or maybe it was the fact that your stupid boyfriend was out of the picture─you weren’t sure, but you didn’t mind, and neither did she. Slowly, it was back to just you and her again. Your boyfriend was nowhere to be seen, and there were no other distractions. It was just the two of you like it always used to be.

You were leaning back on the couch, a joint held between your lips, your eyes heavy and red as you focused on the big TV in front of you. It was Friday night, a time when everyone else would usually go out, but for you, it only meant one thing: movie night with Ellie. The living room was dark, except for the light cast from the TV, making your faces glow in the darkness. You let out a throaty chuckle, taking another hit before sinking deeper into the couch and passing the joint back to her. You were rambling about random stuff as the movie went on, just filling in the background noise at first. Neither of you was really focused on the movie, too high to pay attention to what was happening on the screen. Your mind was wandering to other places, and it was easy to lose track of the scenes as they unfolded.  But then, a steamy scene suddenly caught both of your attention. You could feel the heat rising from the joint and maybe something else; the smoke filling your lungs and a fuzzy feeling spread throughout your body, filling you with a sense of relaxation and mellow contentment. But there was still a tiny fluttering sensation in your stomach, even though you knew it shouldn't be there. It was a strange feeling, like a soft and unexpected rush of excitement, and it made you feel both giddy and nervous all at once. As you watched the steamy scene playing out in front of your eyes, you caught a glimpse of Ellie licking her chapped and dry lips, her green, dilated eyes fixed like a laser on the screen. Her breathing was slightly faster, and you could feel her body tense up as she watched the scene. She didn’t take her eyes off the screen for a second, as if her life depended on watching it. “Y’know, you were my gay awakening,” she spoke suddenly, her husky voice breaking the silence and snapping you to attention. She stared at you, her eyes lingering on every part of your body before settling back on your face. It was a bold confession, coming out of nowhere, and suddenly, you felt your heart beating faster. A dry chuckle slipped out of you, catching in your throat. Even though you were high and a little out of control, her admission had you feeling speechless. “Is that so?” You ran your tongue across your bottom lip, trying to wet it as your throat suddenly felt parched and your pulse thrummed in your ears, hard and loud. “Hmmm-mmmh,” she hummed lazily in response, sounding almost like a low purr in your ear. Her hand rested on your bare thigh, squeezing gently, her touch delicate but firm. Heat pooled in your stomach almost instantly. “Always thinking of you when I touch myself.” “Show me.” You challenged her with a sultry tone.   Ellie scoffed, her scarred auburn brows lifting in disbelief. Had she heard you right? She swore she was hallucinating. “What?” “You heard me. Touch yourself,” you commanded, your voice firm, leaving no room for doubt. The corners of your lips lifted into a smirk, the confidence in your gaze obvious.

“And you’re just gonna sit there and stare like a creep?” She shook her head slowly, an amused smile on her face as if she wasn’t sure whether to take you seriously. But the soft chuckle and the way her eyes stayed locked on yours hinted that she was not entirely opposed to the idea. “Maybe, maybe not.” You shifted on the couch, turning fully to face her, now closer than ever. Practically in her space, watching her, you could almost feel her heart about to explode. Those little pajama shorts you had on had her captivated. Her eyes kept slipping down, caught on how tightly they hugged your curves, tracing every inch of your legs and hips. She tried to keep her gaze on your face, but it was impossible to stop glancing lower.  “If you do it, I’ll do it too,” you added, your voice dripping with temptation as her silence stretched out. And with that, something in her snapped, a fuse blowing in her mind until the only thing left was pure, raw need. No hesitation, no questions—just her fingers reaching into her waistband, spurred on by that hungry look in your eyes. You both sat there, legs spread, your hands slipping inside your panties, each of you putting on a show for the other.   Ellie’s breath hitched, and her fingers moved with fervor, sending shivers down your spine. You couldn’t help but watch, mesmerized by how her parted lips let out shallow breaths, quiet gasps escaping as her hand worked. She moved with purpose, fingers gliding through her wetness, quickening her pace to get you to keep up.  “Do what I do,” she groaned, her voice low and rough. You obliged, your fingers following her frantic rhythm.  “Fuck, Ellie,” you moaned, biting back the whimper that her every move pulled out of you. 

She didn’t miss a thing, loving how you trembled and squirmed under her gaze, your body aching, practically begging. Her wildest fantasies were unfolding right in front of her, and she was greedy, wanting every sound, every gasp, every moan.   “You like that, yeah?” she rasped, her voice so rough it made your walls clench. The empty ache inside you was unbearable, your fingers slippery and soaked as you followed her every twist and stroke. You nodded, desperate, moans spilling out without restraint, each one making her move even faster. The sight of her, her touch, her ragged breaths was dizzying. She wanted to own every second, to make you crave her as much as she craved you. Your needy voice rang out, soft and breathy, “Mmmhh… need more, El.” You sounded so desperate, so whiny, it made her heart race. You were just so fucking pretty, and she couldn't stop thinking about how it would feel to have her fingers inside you, feeling every desperate pulse, every needy clench around her as you milked her fingers deliciously. Before she could even process the thought, you slid your other hand down, sinking two fingers past your folds with a soft sigh, filling yourself as deep as you could.  The sight made her breath hitch, a low moan slipping out as she watched, knowing that this image would be carved into her brain forever. She could already feel herself getting off to the thought of this moment, over and over again. Your fingers moved in sync, one hand teasing and torturing your clit while the other pumped inside, stroking that perfect spot that made your thighs tense and shiver. Ellie watched, her brows knitted, barely able to tear her eyes away from your sadly still-covered cunt. “God,” she gasped, her chest heaving as she took in every pretty little expression, every sound slipping from your lips as you finger-fucked yourself. She was beyond turned on, completely mesmerized by how good you looked, and couldn’t hold back any longer. With her hand still buried in her boy shorts, she flicked her clit faster, fingers rubbing in desperate, frantic messy circles as she got swept up in the sight of you. “So fuckin’ needy,” she taunted, her voice low and hoarse.

“Gonna...g’na cum,” you whined, eyes squeezed shut, breaths coming out in short, shaky bursts. In a move that sent a shiver down your spine, Ellie reached out and gently tugged your hand away from your shorts, intertwining her fingers with yours.  “Me too—wanna cum with you, need you close,” she gasped, her words breaking into soft moans as her own high built. She squeezed your hand tight, needing the contact as her hips jerked up, chasing her release. Your other hand kept moving, your fingers hitting that perfect, spongy spot again and again until— “I’m coming!” you cried out, your moans reaching a pitch that filled the room, echoing through the walls, your fingers slamming into yourself as you came, waves of pleasure crashing over you. 

“Ooooh fuck!” Ellie groaned, her hips bucking as she rubbed herself faster, her hand squeezing yours hard as she climaxed, her voice hoarse and breathless. 

You sat there, chests heaving, bodies still trembling in the aftermath, catching your breaths in silence as the euphoria slowly faded. For a moment, neither of you moved. Then, gradually, reality seeped back in as you both glanced at each other, feeling completely blissful. Her lips pulled into a soft smile, cheeks flushed as her thumb absentmindedly stroked the back of your hand.

Feeling a rush of warmth, you leaned back, wiping your fingers on the soft fabric of your pajama shorts, a quiet contentment settling over you. Ellie tugged gently at your tank top, silently inviting you to come closer. You obliged, sinking into her embrace as she wrapped her arms around you. She pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, whispering in her dazed, dreamy voice about how perfect the moment had been, dropping little words of affection she’d usually never say out loud. With the weed still buzzing in her system, it all slipped out way too easily.

You drifted off in her arms, her warmth and steady breaths lulling you to sleep as the TV murmured softly in the background.

˳·˖𖤐 It was as though her infatuation with you intensified after that night, if that was even possible. She couldn’t get you out of her mind, and her focus on every little detail of your appearance became more and more pronounced. You were all she could draw, your lips, your nose, your brows, your eyes. She was convinced that she was the only one who truly appreciated your beauty. She believed that everyone else was too superficial to appreciate you for who you really were. To her, no one else deserved you─not like she did. You were the center of her world, and she couldn’t stop thinking about you. You were like a drug to her, and she craved you more than anything else, her mind was consumed with thoughts of you.

˳·˖𖤐 There was this sick habit of hers, one that she’d never admit out loud but couldn’t shake. Every night, she watched you as you slept, eyes glued to how your oversized shirt barely hung onto your curves. It was like she was waiting—no, hoping—for that shirt to ride up just a little bit more, enough to give her a full view of those soft legs and the tiny slip of fabric that barely covered you. 

You always seemed so relaxed, so at ease around her, never thinking twice about what you wore, especially when you two shared a bed. You’d just crawl under the covers, no pants, no bra, just that soft, baggy shirt. And every time, it drove her wild. Part of her wondered if you knew exactly what you were doing, the way you’d stretch and twist, giving her those little glimpses that made her pulse race—and to answer her silent dilemma, yes, you were doing it on purpose.  She couldn’t look away. Her hand would slip under her waistband, touching herself as her eyes roamed over you, desperate for more than just a view. She couldn’t resist ever since she admitted she’d been touching herself to the thought of you for as long as she could remember.  Even you could feel the tension every time her eyes lingered on your body or lips. Every time she shifted closer, her fingers grazing your thigh just a little too long just to pull away again, chickening out. All you wanted was for her to close that painful gap, to stop playing around and just touch you the way you knew she wanted to. Every night was a silent invitation, a wordless game where every move you made was another way to get her attention, pushing her until she couldn’t stand it any longer. Ellie licked her lips, her eyes glued to the sight beside her. Watching you sleep like this always turned her on─it was the combination of ‘innocence’, vulnerability, and sheer beauty that did it. The slight roll of your shirt had exposed just enough skin to make her heart race, her mind filled with naughty thoughts. You were never aware of how much she wanted to feel you and touch you inappropriately, but she knew it might ruin your friendship, and she couldn’t risk it.  Feeling her arousal increasing with every passing second, she slipped her hand under the covers. She knew it was wrong; she shouldn't be doing this while you were asleep next to her, sleeping peacefully as she came all over her fingers at the sight of your half-exposed body─but that didn’t stop her from doing it anyway. The temptation was too strong, and it was impossible to resist you. “Fuck... You’re killing me…” she thought to herself, glancing at the clock on the bedside table. It was late at night, and she couldn't resist anymore.

Without hesitation, she slid her hand into her shorts and started playing with herself. Her green, concentrated eyes never left your body, studying every curve and dip hungrily. Calloused fingers brushed against her sensitive nub gently, her hips slightly jerking away from her hand. She was so sensitive; you had her pussy throbbing like crazy, and the worst part was that you didn’t even do shit. It was her fault, her perverted and filthy mind's fault. But good lord, if she would sell all her organs to touch you. “The fuck are you doin’ to me…” she murmured under her breath as she played with her wetness, feeling how messy you made her. When her fingers returned to her clit, circling it gently, her breath hitched. She knew she had to be quiet; you were occasionally a light sleeper, and she couldn't risk getting caught. She parted her legs further apart as she kept teasing her clit slowly. “God…” She whispered, her breath coming out in short, shallow gasps, causing her voice to be soft and sultry as she rubbed herself with increasing tempo. There was no hesitation or inhibition, just raw, unadulterated desire dripping from every fiber of her being. So fucking nasty. She wondered what your reaction would be if you woke up and caught her in the act, but, yet again, there was something exhilarating about the risk, about the idea of you seeing her in the middle of her filthy act. Her face flushed as she imagined this, her mind filled with naughty scenarios as she rubbed herself harder and faster.  “Mmph... so beautiful…” Her eyes never left your body, even while touching herself. For some reason, it felt so good knowing you were just inches away, unaware of what she was doing. She couldn't help but fantasize about you pleasing her—she needed your fingers, you, and she also fantasized about reciprocating the favor.  “Can't wait to taste you... touch you…” She mumbled, lost in her fantasies. Her body trembled slightly from anticipation, she was close. “Mmm... fuck... gonna cum” Her voice was strained, increasing the pressure on her throbbing clit. It was becoming challenging to stay quiet, and she just hoped you wouldn't wake up to this.

When she did come, she pulled her damp and sticky hand out of her boxers, sucking her fingers clean before turning her head slightly to look at you, admire you. You laid there sleeping like an angel, your hair cascading down your face. She watched you with mixed emotions. 

Ellie’s chest rose and fell rapidly as she breathed, and her forehead was damp with sweat, her red-brown hair sticking to her freckled lush skin. Despite the guilt she knew she should be feeling, she couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. She promised herself she wouldn’t do it again, but deep down, she knew it was merely the first of many more. 

˳·˖𖤐 The more she did it, the more confident and bold she became, convinced that you’d never catch her.

˳·˖𖤐 One night, you had a bit too much soda before falling asleep. As the night wore on, you began to slowly wake up, feeling the urge to go to the bathroom.

She was so caught up in the moment that she didn’t notice the slight shift beside her. Your eyes fluttered open just wide enough to catch a glimpse of her hand moving under the covers. Her pale face was flushed, a blush covered her cheeks and her cute nose, her skin coated with a light sheen of sweat. She was biting down on her bottom lip, her eyes tightly shut, trying to keep herself quiet, while her tattooed arm was stuffed deep inside her boxers. Her toned abs tensed up subtly as her perky tits peeked through her black t-shirt, jiggling with every tiny movement she made. Fuck, what a sight. You thought you were dreaming. Hell, you were sure of it. Why would she even do that next to you? You knew you should’ve done or said something, but the sight of your best friend pleasuring herself right beside you only made your pussy throb madly, and the way she dirty-talked to herself to make herself cum. God.

You squeezed your thighs together, pretending to be asleep. Her soft moans made you feel indescribable things, and you felt yourself getting increasingly wet; it felt like torture to lay there and pretend to be asleep while she pleasured herself like that, but at the same time, it was addictive.  So, instead of confronting her, you decided to play along. Wearing slutty thongs to bed became your new routine, and of course, it didn’t take Ellie too long to notice. Some nights, you could feel her lifting your beloved oversized shirt up just a bit to take a better look at your body. It was hard to suppress a smile, but you managed.

“A fucking thong, really? God.” you could hear her mutter quietly.

She’d mumble random shit like, “Wanna fuck you real bad,” when she was close to her orgasm. 

You’d often shift a bit too close to her to make her freak out, interrupting her imminent orgasm. It was entertaining hearing her panic and freeze. The little sigh of relief she'd let out when she looked over you to make sure you were ‘sleeping’ was even cuter to you.

˳·˖𖤐 One day, while doing the laundry, your eyes caught a flash of red fabric peeking out of her sweatpants, tucked deep inside the pocket. A brief moment of recognition made you realize it was your thong, one that you had lost long ago. And you remembered vividly how you had always wondered where it had gone. You knew Ellie had something to do with it—indeed, you were not wrong. “Perv,” you let out a breathy chuckle as you withdrew the thong from her pocket and tossed it inside the washing machine. 

˳·˖𖤐 Though you couldn’t say shit. You weren’t really in a position to, not when you had stolen her boxers—the very ones she had made a mess of the other night, getting off to your ‘innocent’ form in that thong, all sprawled out for her eyes only. Unlike her, you had tucked it away, ensuring she’d never find it—in your bottom drawer, buried beneath a pile of neatly folded clothes.

˳·˖𖤐 Everything had been rainbows and roses since your boyfriend was out of the picture, leaving Ellie with you all to herself, just as she liked it. She’d half-expected this wouldn’t last forever, but she didn’t think it would unravel so soon, too soon.

After your shower, wrapped only in a towel, you realized you’d forgotten to grab fresh clothes. Too lazy to trek back to your room, you decided Ellie’s closet would do just fine. “El! I’m borrowing your clothes!” you called out, already swinging open her closet door without waiting for a response. The woody, warm scent of her filled the small space, mingling with the crisp smell of laundry detergent.

Your gaze drifted downward, catching on a gym bag lying half-zipped. The black fabric looked dull under the dim light, but something about it drew you in. There were dark stains on the shirt peeking out—a rusted, dried red that had you swallowing hard. Right next to it sat a Ghostface mask, its hollow, grinning face staring up at you, taunting you, like it knew something you didn’t. 

Just then, Ellie’s voice cut through the silence, a little too rushed, a little too panicked. “Wait, I’ll get it for you!” You heard her footsteps nearing, but by the time she appeared in the doorway, you were already crouched down, inspecting the items, your fingers clutching your boyfriend’s shirt—now stiff with dried blood—and a stained knife in the other.

She froze, her already pale face drained of color as your eyes met. She didn’t say a thing, didn’t try to explain or reach out. She simply stood there, like a deer caught in headlights, waiting for you to make the first move.

“What the fuck?” you choked out, anger tangling in your throat. Your voice cracked, but you didn’t let it stop you. “Why do you have this, Ellie?!” The words were sharp, edged with accusation, and your fingers tightened around the shirt, clinging to the blood-soaked fabric like it was proof of a reality she couldn’t deny. 

Ellie flinched, cursing herself for not getting rid of that piece of evidence. Maybe it was the procrastination, or perhaps she was just too wrapped up in you—you had that effect on her. Her expression flickered between panic and something else, something guarded, as if she were mentally scrambling to find the right lie to feed you.

“I swear, it’s not what it looks like.” Her voice was low, almost eerily calm, meant to keep you from losing your mind and freaking out even more, but it was doing the opposite. “Sit down. I can explain. I promise.” She inched closer, coaxing you back toward her bed, trying to control the situation, as if talking you down would make all of this disappear. But you stepped away from her, backing toward the closet instead.

“Then fucking explain,” you demanded, your voice rising, heat flooding your cheeks as your pulse hammered. Your eyes trailed down to the Ghostface mask lying on the floor, and you kicked it toward her. “What the hell are you doing with all this shit? With my boyfriend’s shirt?”

“Ex-boyfriend,” she corrected you, as if that made a difference in the moment. But she cared enough about it to not hold her tongue. You scoffed in disbelief at her correction, and your stern look only prompted her to keep talking, desperate to answer your question. “I found it in the trash,” she began, her tone too smooth, her words practiced. “I was going to take it to the cops.” But you both knew that was a shitty excuse. The explanation hung in the air, feeble and hollow, cracking under the weight of your inquisitor glare.

“That’s a fucking lie, and you know it,” you spat, tightening your grip on the knife, its sharp tip now aimed right at her. 

“Just sit down, please. I’ll tell you everything.” Her words spilled out, each one more frantic than the last, thick with desperation as she inched closer, hands reaching out like she was steadying herself—or preparing to corner you.

You held your ground, pressing your back into the cold closet door, “No, fuck that!” you snapped, refusing to let her control the moment. Her jaw tightened, and in an instant, she lunged forward, catching your wrist and forcing it up against the wood, pinning the knife-holding hand in place.

“Listen to me!” she growled, her voice growing louder, almost vibrating with a tension that rippled between you, making you quiver. Her face was close, too close, so close that her warm breath hit your face, and her eyes locked onto yours, wild verdants unwavering, staring into your dilated pupils.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” you shouted, fury shaking the air between you as you pulled at her iron-tight grip. But it was useless. You were sick of her lies, of her half-truths. All you truly desired was for her to lay it all bare for you ‘cause you weren’t fucking dumb, and deep down, you knew it. You had known all along. Her grip only tightened, her knuckles turning white against your skin as her breaths came fast. This Ellie was raw, untamed—a far cry from the girl you had around every day. But in this harsh intensity, there was something real, something you’d been craving for.

“You wanna know the truth? Fine!” Her voice rose, each word bitten off, hard enough to make you flinch. She gazed down at the bloodstained shirt sprawled across the floor, her face hardening, “Yeah, that’s his. And yeah, that’s his blood. He deserved what he got.” 

“What the fuck, Ellie, you had no fucking right—” She slammed her other hand against the wooden surface of her closet door, inches away from your head, causing you to cut off your words before they could be fully uttered.

“He was cheating on you!” she interrupted you, her voice rough with anger, her face flushing red. “I saw him, alright? With that girl from the bar—the one you were always paranoid about. I fucking saw him with her. So yeah, I followed him, and things got… out of hand.”

You scanned her face, searching for any hint of regret or guilt, but all you found was a complete lack of remorse, an expression that only seemed to scream she’d do it all over again if she could. But it was exactly that thing in her eyes that pulled you in even more. “Then why not just tell me?” 

Why couldn’t you fear her? Why weren’t you grossed out? Shouldn’t you have had a typical reaction to her revelation, like screaming or crying over the brutal murder of your boyfriend? Instead, here you were, feeling oddly fascinated, giddy even.

“I wanted to,” she admitted, her voice a little raspier, her eyes glistening with what looked like tears—fake ones. The sudden empathy felt odd, something that didn’t belong to her, and you knew her too well for this shit. “But then I saw you, finally free, happy without him dragging you down. I thought I’d done you a favor. And then I just… couldn’t say it.” 

You pressed yourself harder against the closet door, staring at her like you were seeing her for the first time. You shook your head, “You’re lying,” you stated flatly, watching her mask drop.

“What? You think I’d lie?” she shot back, trying to twist the situation, like you were crazy for even suspecting her. But you knew better. Psychology classes were really paying off.

“Yes, Ellie, you’re lying.” you leaned in, and her jaw clenched as you continued. “You did it to Amanda and that girl at the party? You think I don’t remember that night? Just admit it!” You practically yelled, and a shadow passed over her face like an ominous cloud, her expression hardening again, her eyes growing cold, dark in a way that caught you off guard. One thing was for sure—there was a certain beauty in the way her captivating jade orbs effortlessly switched between the deceptive facade and the cold, calculated gaze of a serial killer. 

“Admit what?” her tone was mocking, like she was daring you to say it.

“That you—” The words stuck in your throat, your gaze slipping to the Ghostface mask on the floor. That’s when she ripped the knife out of your hand, her grip firm as she held it close to you, not quite pressing it into your skin, just close enough to see if it’d rattle you.

“C’mon,” she murmured, leaning in with that daring, dark smile, “say it.” Her eyes flashed with an edge of mania like she was enjoying this, feeding off your reactions, like some sick parasite.

“You killed them all.” you managed, voice barely a whisper, and she threw her head back in a laugh that sent chills down your spine.

“God, do you hear yourself? You sound pathetic,” she chuckled darkly, her knife tracing a line along your cheekbone, slow enough to make you shiver, close enough to cause goosebumps to erupt on your skin. Your chest tightened, your heartbeat loud in your ears as her lips curled in that contorted smile. ​​Your breath hitched as she leaned in, her gaze piercing through your irises, capturing every fleck of color.

“What? Gonna kill me now?” you breathed, your words almost taunting, a faint smirk pulling at your lips as her eyes narrowed.

She tilted the knife against your throat but still put no pressure. You felt yourself leaning into it, letting the thrill course through you and that familiar excitement growing in your tummy. “Gonna make me?” she whispered, voice thick and low, and for the briefest moment, her composure cracked—just enough for you to see her desperation, like she was hanging onto a thread. She needed you to stay, even after all this. She couldn’t live without you.

“I just want the truth,” you uttered, your voice soft, never breaking eye contact. And if you did, it was only to let your eyes drop to her lips, she was so tantalizingly close that it was impossible not to. “Drop the mind games. I want the truth.” You didn’t know how the hell you could still want her, adrenaline tangling in your chest, but you did. Maybe even more than before.

Her brows rose in mock surprise as she cocked her head. “You want the truth?” she echoed, lips parting in a cold smirk. “Fine. Yes, I killed your stupid fucking boyfriend. He died like a pussy,” she sneered, anger flashing as she clenched the knife, thinking of his hands on you, touching what had always belonged to her.

“Why?” you whispered, watching her like you were peeling away her layers, seeing her stripped of all pretenses.

“Why do you think?” she scoffed, rolling her eyes like it was obvious.

The words that tumbled from your mouth after her revelation left her almost astonished.

“How’d you kill him?” then, with a morbid fascination you added, “What did it feel like?” your head tilted slightly to the side. 

˳·˖𖤐 The more she went on and on about the macabre details, the more it turned you on. She was taken aback by your enthusiasm and curiosity, the specific questions flowing from your lips with an unsettling calm that she struggled to comprehend. It was almost as if you were savoring every twisted word that came from her. She couldn’t wrap her head around how her dark confessions had led to this moment—both of you naked, with you perched on top of her.

Ellie was gorgeous—way too gorgeous to be a serial killer, or a psychotic person. She was even more gorgeous beneath you, auburn strands of hair splayed across the pillow, messy but not as messy as her dripping pussy. Her breath hitched as your fingers tightened around the handle of her switchblade, the cold metal gliding from her neck down to her chest, drawing lazy white scratches all over her alabaster skin.

A low, frustrated groan escaped her lips as you drew lazy circles around her areolas with the sharp point of the knife, watching with satisfaction as her pink nipples hardened, standing at full attention for you, as hard as rocks and begging to be tortured. You could feel her grow restless beneath you—her hips bucking in a desperate attempt to grind against your pussy, but you lifted yourself ever so slightly, just enough to deprive her of the friction she craved.

“Desperate?” you mocked, your bottom lip jutting out in a cruel pout. Ellie’s eyes flicked up to yours, glazed with lust and frustration, but a small smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. A cocky front, even now. But it was just a front, she was so fucking weak for you.

“Yeah,” she rasped, her voice betraying her need, but her eyes showed a glint of defiance. She couldn’t resist trying to fight back. “But you’re dragging this out like a coward.”

You hummed sultrily, letting the blade press just a little harder against her dotty complexion—not enough to cut, but enough to leave faint red marks across her flesh. “Oh, you think you’re in a position to talk back?” you spat, your free hand pinning her wrist above her head as she squirmed. “You’re fucking sick, Ellie.”

“Like you’re any better,” she sneered, though her voice trembled as the tip of the knife traced down her sternum toward her stomach. Goosebumps rose on her sun-spotted skin as her breathing became more erratic, her hips lifting in vain again to seek the friction you kept cruelly out of her reach.

“Not the one going around killing people, am I?” you snorted, the blade now grazing and lingering just below her belly button.

Ellie’s defiance cracked, her voice weaker, more fragile as she muttered, “I did it for you.” it made your heart skip a beat or beat faster—you really couldn’t tell from all that adrenaline clouding your rational thoughts.

“You’re trembling,” you noted with a sly smirk, her cocky grin faltering as the knife inched lower, closer to where she needed you most. Ellie bit her lip hard, a needy whimper slipping through despite her best effort to stifle it.

“I need you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, one hand reaching up to rest on your hip. Her touch sent a shiver through you, and you couldn’t help but lower yourself closer, pressing your body against hers. 

A wicked smirk tugged at your lips, pride swelling in your chest at the sight of her—the usually cold, calculated killer, reduced to this. All because of you. Seeing her this weak for you truly made you want to do the unholiest things to her, things you knew she would never forget about. You tossed the switchblade aside, forgotten as soon as your lips descended on her neck, sucking dark spots on her soft flesh. You let your teeth sink in, biting just hard enough to get a soft sound out of her. The auburnette was so desperate and sensitive that everything seemed to make her moan—every brief touch, every kiss, even your breathing fanning over her skin. She was already half-gone, and you were barely even getting started.

Her skin flushed beneath your lips as you kissed your way down her body, taking your sweet time, savoring each second of her squirming beneath you. Her breaths grew more ragged, her thighs twitching as you moved lower. Ellie’s body was a temple, and right now, it was all yours to worship.

She’d killed for you, it was the least you could do. So, was romance really dead?

˳·˖𖤐 You’d never imagined Ellie would care that much, never thought she’d be capable of that level of obsession. And you didn’t mind it one bit. No, quite the opposite. The realization only made your pussy throb madly, heat pooling between your thighs as your mind replayed her confession over and over like a broken record, focusing on the brutal details she had given you. It wasn’t just the idea of her killing—it was that she did it because of you, because she couldn’t let anyone else have you.

Every single muscle in her body tensed, her legs trembling as you hovered right above her hairy mound. You could see it—the way her wetness coated her folds, her pink clit, swollen and impatient, her pussy practically begging for attention, and it only made you want to tease her more. Your thumb teasingly drew tight, gentle circles on her aching nub, making her whimper almost exaggeratedly.

“Aww, look at you…” you purred, retracting your hand, your voice low, honed in sweet mockery. You leaned in closer, your breath ghosting over her sensitive skin. “Soaking wet, desperate for me to touch you. Gonna start begging now?”

Your words made her whine, her resolve crumbling more with each passing second—not that there was any left. Her body betrayed her, hips lifting toward your face, her need palpable. But you weren’t done playing with her yet. You had all night ahead.

Your arms curled around her toned thighs, pulling her closer as you knelt at the edge of the bed, your face mere inches from her pussy. You could see how wet she was, how desperate she had become—there was even a dark wet patch on the sheets beneath her. You smirked up at her, eyes locking with hers as you lowered your mouth to her slick folds. With the tip of your tongue, you spread her moistened lips, and it was enough to make Ellie’s entire body jolt, a choked moan tearing from her throat as you tasted her, her sweet juices coating your lips as you lapped at her with slow, deliberate cat licks.

Ellie’s head fell back against the pillow, her hands gripping your hair with white-knuckled desperation as you ate her out, tongue flicking over her clit every now and then with just enough pressure to drive her mad. You sucked, your lips closing around her swollen bud, and Ellie’s back arched painfully off the bed, her thighs trembling around your head.

“Fuck… fuck…” she gasped, her hoarse voice scratching her already dry throat as her hips bucked uncontrollably and you held her down, refusing to let her squirm away from the relentless onslaught of your mouth.

You smirked against her, the vibrations of your giggle only making her moan louder. “Look at you, El,” you teased, your voice muffled between her thighs. “So sweet ‘n perfect f’me,”

You didn’t wait for a response, diving back in, your tongue swirling around her clit as you slipped two fingers inside her, curling them with brutal precision, finding that sweet spot that had her toes curling, her breath catching in her throat. Her gummy walls clenched around your fingers, and you could feel how close she was, her legs shaking violently.

Ellie’s moans grew louder, more frantic, her hands tugging at your hair hard as she tried to ground herself, grinding against your tongue. But you didn’t slow down—if anything, you fucked her harder, your fingers pumping into her fast and deep, your mouth never abandoning her needy clit, your nose buried in her trimmed bush.

“Beg me,” you commanded as you pulled away to breathe, her core swallowing every inch of your fingers greedily. All those years of plugging her fingers deep inside her wet cunt imagining they were yours instead were so worth the wait.

“I—fuck—” the green-eyed girl’s breath caught, her body shaking uncontrollably, her voice barely a whisper now. “Please… please…” She couldn’t even fucking function; you had reduced her to a broken mess.

“Can’t hear you,” you prompted her, your fingers plunging deeper, harder, until her back arched off the bed, a cry of pure need tearing from her throat.

“Fuck! Please, I need it—I need you—fuck, I’m so close!” she sobbed, her voice cracking as her orgasm crept closer, promising her to see stars, but you weren’t about to give her what she wanted—no, not yet.

You grinned wickedly, pulling your fingers out of her soaked pussy just before she could. A strangled, frustrated sob escaped her plump lips as her body writhed beneath you, her orgasm stolen, leaving her aching and needy.

“Aw, you’re not so smart, are you? You really thought I was going to let you come?” You leaned in, pressing your lips to her ear as you whispered, “Oh no, El… we’re just getting started. You’re not going anywhere.”

˳·˖𖤐 Ellie’s eyes widened with a mixture of frustration and confusion as you told her you’d let her come after you were done using her. You reached for your favorite strap-on, adjusting the harness until it sat snugly around her hips. Her wrists were bound securely to the headboard, the cuffs’ soft, fluffy lining pressing firmly against her skin. Her breath caught in her throat as the realization dawned on her, her eyes darting between the toy and your wicked grin. 

Her pupils were blown with lust as she watched you lower yourself onto her, the thick silicone toy sliding in with ease after you’d teased your throbbing bud with its tip. Her hands twitched, desperate to reach out, to touch you, but she couldn’t do much with the handcuffs keeping her wrists locked to the bed, the soft restraints holding her firmly in place. She watched with wide eyes as her cock stretched your needy, wet heat, sliding in and out. At first, your movements were slow and teasing, letting her take in every inch, but it didn’t take long before you picked up the pace, your body already accustomed to its size, moving with a frantic, eager rhythm.

“Fuuuck…” you panted, rolling your hips against the toy, your breath hitching as that familiar feeling built in your stomach. Ellie’s gaze was glued to you—your bouncing tits, your parted lips, the way your body moved smoothly above her. She wanted to touch, to feel you, but all she could do was watch as you used her, as you fucked yourself on the strap like she wasn’t even there. It was cruel, truly. Her body trembled with need as she watched you lose yourself in the overwhelming pleasure, her pussy throbbing with unmet desire as yours seemed to suck the toy deeper, and for a moment, she swore she could feel your walls tightening around her—perhaps it was the desperation playing a sick joke on her. She couldn’t help but let out a moan.

˳·˖𖤐 She had tried begging but she’d only be met with things such as:

“Cry about it,” you sneered, your voice cold and mocking as you watched her squirm restlessly beneath you.

“You’re such a fucking crybaby,” you murmured, fingers gripping onto her chin and forcing her to look at you as if her desperation was nothing more than a joke to you.

“I’m putting up a whole show for you, and you’re still complaining,” you chuckled darkly, a twisted satisfaction curling at the corners of your mouth as you looked down at her, reveling in her helplessness, your wetness dripping down the harness, making a mess on top of her.

“Please,” she whimpered, her voice cracking as she thrusted up. Mewls slipped out of your soft lips as the tip of her silicone cock hit your cervix, desperation written all over her flushed face. “Please let me touch you... let me do something...” Her voice hitched as she choked on a sob, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her glassy eyes locked onto yours, her cheeks streaked with the remnants of her pleas. “Fuck, I can’t—” she cried out, voice breaking again, her head tilting back as she tried to hold herself together. Her gaze flickered back up to you, trailing to your chest, lingering there hungrily. Bushy brows furrowed with longing as she licked her chapped lips.

But you weren’t listening. You were too lost in the pleasure of fucking yourself on her, your head thrown back, sobs pouring from your lips as the strap-on hit that perfect spot against your cervix. Your movements grew more frantic, hips slamming down harder, faster, the toy sliding in and out of your slick folds with ease. The wet sounds of your arousal filled her room, mixing with the desperate, needy gasps that escaped Ellie beneath you, her fingers curling into fists as the cuffs dug into her velvety skin, promising bruises she’d feel long after this was over.

Her eyes glazed over, chest rising and falling rapidly as she watched you ride her with reckless abandon. The sight of you, your body glistening with sweat, pretty tits bouncing with every thrust, was too much for her. She was on the edge, teetering, her body aching to release, but you wouldn’t let her. You wouldn’t let her do shit.

Ellie groaned, frustration and lust mixing in her voice as she bucked her hips uselessly beneath you, trying to gain even a fraction of relief from the sight of you fucking yourself senseless. “Please… please, I’m begging you,” she whimpered, her voice hoarse and broken, and god if it nearly made you squirt. “I need it—I need to come, please…”

You smirked down at her, not stopping, your hips grinding harder, riding the strap with everything you had. You leaned down, your breath hot against the shell of her ear as you whispered, “You’re not coming until I say you can. You’re going to sit there and watch me get off, and there’s nothing you can fucking do about it.” Cruelly pressing damp and sloppy kisses on the column of her neck, kisses that had her gasping pathetically.

˳·˖𖤐 And it went on and on, her eyes locked on the sight of your milky cum dripping down the thick, black strap, each drop making her bite back a groan. She wished she could taste you. Every time she tried to move or squirm too much for your liking, you’d smack her hard across the face, or switch to a new position just to tease her even more, making sure you were giving her the best view. It was only after the fifth—or maybe the sixth—orgasm that you finally uncuffed her.

The moment her wrists were free, she flipped you over, quick as lightning, giving you no time to react. She pinned you beneath her with a mischievous glint in her eyes, you looked up at her, panting and spent, your brows knitting together in a mix of frustration and exhaustion. She just smirked down at you, spreading your trembling legs apart with ease, her grip firm and unyielding.

“Oh fuck, no—” you gasped out, trying to squirm away as she wrapped her hand around the slick toy, guiding it right back to your abused entrance. She knew she could probably come right then, grinding against the back of the strap, but the thought of pushing you past your limits was far more thrilling. 

“You’re not stupid enough to think I’d let you go so easily, right?” she repeated your earlier words, her voice low and dangerous as she lowered herself over you, your sweaty bodies pressing together. “Didn’t you wanna be my helpless victim, babe?”

The redhead pushed in relentlessly, forcing your pulsating walls to swallow every inch, your back arching as she made you hold on just a little longer. Before long, your legs gave out beneath you as she pounded into you from behind, each thrust deep and brutal, your cheek pressed into the soft mattress. Her hand came down hard on your ass, leaving a sharp sting that burned like a bitch. The smacks kept coming, over and over, until your skin was bruised and your body was shaking with overstimulation. “This is for leaving me high and dry,” she hissed, her voice rough with frustration and desire, slapping the same bruised spot again and again, until you knew you’d be sore for days, unable to sit down.

˳·˖𖤐 When it was finally over, the two of you laid tangled together, breathless and sticky. Ellie’s chest heaved as she tried to steady her breathing, but a question lingered in her eyes—one that seemed to claw at her even now, despite everything you’d done to show her you weren’t running, that you weren’t disgusted by her nature. You had never been, for the matter, even when you were kids.

“You’re not gonna tell on me, yeah?” she rasped, her voice rough, her grip tightening possessively on your hip while her other hand gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face. Her touch was surprisingly tender, contrasting with the weight of her words, like she was scared to hear your answer. It made your heart swell knowing she feared losing you so badly.

But you were so drunk of the overwhelming contentment that you barely registered the tension in her voice. Instead, a sleepy smile tugged at your lips, and you blurted out, “Wanna be my girlfriend?” The question slipped out before you could think, your gaze locked onto her freckled face, admiring every angle and curve, the way the warm dim light softened her expression.

Ellie blinked, caught off guard, before a playful smirk curved her lips. “I am your girlfriend,” she gave your hip a gentle swat that made you chuckle softly, the sound mixing with the quiet hum of the fan.

“Y’know…you’re right,” you mumbled suddenly. Her hand drifted to your back, scratching lightly, soothing you as your body relaxed into hers. You turned your head, meeting her soft eyes again, while something darker flashed in yours. “He fucking deserved what he got,” Your voice was low, carrying a finality that made Ellie’s breath hitch. It was all the reassurance she needed. A wide grin spread across her face, her eyes lighting up with something almost feral, a giddy kind of joy. It was a smile so genuine, so purely her, that it was impossible to resist leaning in to kiss her, your lips meeting hers in a messy, heated kiss. 

“But yeah, if you leave me I’m gonna tell on you.”

˳·˖𖤐 She had gotten clingier and more eager after that night, always looking for an excuse to touch you, to keep you within reach. Whenever you went somewhere, Ellie trailed right behind you, like a shadow that wouldn’t leave your side. And honestly, you loved it—you thrived on bossing her around, enjoying how she would drop whatever she was doing just to be with you. If the two of you were inseparable as friends before, it had only gotten worse. Not that the obsessive, morbid love wasn’t there before, but now you both let it show, with no boundaries left to be set, no rules, just whatever twisted thing you both had become together.

˳·˖𖤐 Time flew by, and soon Halloween rolled around again, your favorite holiday. Ellie knew it, too, and she didn’t even try to say no when you convinced her to tag along to a party you’d been invited to. It was supposed to be a small, “close friends only” type of thing, but you dragged her with you anyway, making it clear you weren’t going to take no for an answer. Plus, you’d been at each other’s throats lately, bickering more than usual, and she didn’t want to risk making you any angrier. It was either coming along without putting up a fight or dealing with the idea of you going solo—knowing she’d just end up following you like the little creep she was, lurking in the shadows, making sure no one even dared to touch you.

˳·˖𖤐 The party turned out to be better than either of you had expected. A few drinks in, and you both started to loosen up, Ellie sticking close, practically attached to your side with some invisible rope. It was like she couldn’t let you out of her sight, even for a second, her hand always finding its way to your back or waist, keeping you close. You danced together, swaying in the colorful, pulsing lights, your bodies brushing intimately against each other. Her eyes stayed glued to you the whole time, like you were the Holy Mary herself, and she just couldn’t get enough. You reveled in her devotion, the way her grip on your hips would tighten as you moved. It was such a turn-on.

Eventually, the party began to wind down, and it wasn’t long before it was just the two of you left with Allison and her boyfriend, Lucas. The four of you gravitated toward the kitchen, where Ellie leaned against the counter, elbows propped up on the cold granite. She played with the knives, her fingers casually tracing the handles, sliding them in and out of the block absentmindedly.

Allison scrolled through her phone, her brown eyes squinting at the screen’s dim glow. “Another guy went missing,” she announced, her voice wavering as she scanned through the article. “I bet Ghostface has something to do with it.”

“Tragic,” Ellie muttered, her tone devoid of sympathy. Her eyes remained fixed ahead, a ghost of a smirk tugging at her lips. You watched her, catching the unsettling indifference in her voice. When she noticed your gaze, she raised an eyebrow in mock innocence, daring you to question her. Instead, she shrugged. Allison went on and on about how creepy it was that Ghostface could be literally anyone, her voice holding a mix of fascination and fear. 

“I mean, think about it,” she said, eyes wide as she gestured dramatically. “It could be your neighbor, your friend, even someone you totally trust! Just wearing that mask and knife in hand, ready to strike any moment. It’s so fucked up!” As Allison thought about the countless times she had passed by potential killers, she couldn’t help but shudder in fear at her luck. How many times had she walked down a dark alleyway, taken a walk alone at night, or even trusted the wrong person? The thought of her mortality sent a chill down her spine and made her wonder how long her luck would hold out.

“Yeah, it’s scary,” you hummed, but then the conversation shifted back to the guy who had gone missing. 

“You’ve got to be dumb to get killed like that, though,” Ellie scoffed, her tone dripping with disdain. “Came all the way from Michigan just to end up dead? Pathetic. Guess all those muscles didn’t help much.”

Allison frowned at Ellie’s lack of empathy, but she shrugged it off, scrolling through her phone for more details, her thumb flicking faster across the screen. “That’s… awful,” you murmured, chewing on your bottom lip as you glanced over at Lucas, who seemed unfazed by the conversation.

Lucas noticed your look and mistook it for unease. “You okay?” he asked, genuine concern in his eyes. “Want a drink or something?”

You nodded, playing into his kindness. “Sure, thanks.”

He leaned over, pressing a kiss to Allison’s head before heading to the kitchen, leaving you, Ellie, and Allison alone in the dim living room.

“Wait—” Allison’s brows knitted in confusion, her voice soft but growing with unease. “How’d you know he was from Michigan? It doesn’t say anything about…” Her voice trailed off as she continued scrolling, her eyes flicking back and forth over the screen, trying to make sense of what Ellie had just casually dropped.

Ellie’s smile barely flickered. “Just a guess,” she replied smoothly, her gaze icy and unbothered, creeping Allison out.

You chuckled at the exchange, and Allison turned to you with a confused look. “C’mon, cheer up, Allison! We’re just messing with you. Can’t you take a joke? It’s Halloween!”

Allison’s frown deepened as she glanced between you and Ellie, her eyes clouding with suspicion. She let out a nervous laugh, trying to shake off the unsettling vibe. “You two are… really something,” she said, brushing it off, not wanting to overthink it. Maybe paranoia was just doing her dirty. Oh, if she only knew.

Ellie smirked, she leaned forward, her voice dropping low. “Oh, you have no idea,” she whispered, her tone laced with something dark and final, a warning the girl didn’t quite catch.

Lucas handed you the drink, his face lighting up with an easy smile, completely unaware of the exchange. 

“You guys wanna play a game?” you asked, grinning at Allison and Lucas. The suggestion hung in the air, deceptively playful. Allison exchanged a look with Lucas, her unease melting a bit, as if convincing herself she was just imagining things.

She forced a smile. “Sure. What kind of game?”

Ellie’s grin widened, a gleam of mischief in her eyes. “How about something… fun?”

˳·˖𖤐 Maybe it was the thrill of the game or the intoxicating rush of chaos, but after a few questions were answered and it was your turn, your eyes widened in shock as the blade pierced your stomach. Time seemed to slow down as you locked eyes with Ellie, and what you saw there sent a chill down your spine—your girlfriend’s eyes were empty, devoid of emotion—not even guilt shone in her eyes. It was like staring into a void. 

Blood poured from your mouth, warm and sticky, and panic coursed through you. When a week ago she had suggested trying something new, never did you think that would lead to this—her knife buried deep inside your insides, and blood pouring out of you like a crimson-tainted waterfall.

“W-why…?” you choked on your own blood, the words barely audible but with the stillness of the room, they seemed to echo louder. 

Allison and Lucas stood completely frozen, utterly speechless, their bodies rigid with shock as they watched the horrific scene unfold before their eyes, feeling useless and not knowing how to stop it. The crimson blood pooled out of your wound, soaking the fabric of your shirt, while Ellie’s gloves gleamed with a sinister shine. The red wasn’t so visible against the darkness of her attire, but it was there, unmistakable. 

“It was the wrong answer, babe,” Ellie whispered, her words dripping with a sickening sweetness that made your skin crawl, and the innocent faint smile on her face made Allison want to rip her hair out. 

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Allison screamed, her voice laced with disbelief, her eyes wide as she took a shaky step back.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Lucas followed, his voice tinged with a mix of fear and anger, trying to process the madness unfolding in front of him.

“YOU’RE A FUCKING MONSTER!” Allison yelled, her voice cracking as she cried, her hands shaking.

Your body hit the floor with a heavy thud, and through half-lidded eyes, you saw the panic set in as Allison and Lucas before you stopped breathing entirely. They scrambled for the door, nearly tripping over themselves. Allison’s frantic, manicured hands rattled desperately the knob, her voice shrill as she screamed for help, but the door wouldn’t budge. Locked. 

And she hadn’t locked it. She was sure she hadn’t.

Lucas, desperate to protect her, grabbed a vase from the entry table and hurled it at Ellie, the glass shattering against her shoulder with a harsh crack. It staggered her for a moment, just long enough for them to dart in separate directions, fleeing up the stairs. 

Ellie grinned, her eyes flashing with excitement as she took off after Lucas, her steps heavy but steady, savoring the thrill of the chase, like a cat chasing a mouse. She looked over her shoulder at you before she raced up the stairs. Allison stumbled into the guest bedroom, slamming the door behind her. The auburnette could hear the blonde girl breathing heavily, panicked, the creak of the floorboards giving her away as she backed into the room.

But she decided to take care of Lucas instead, having labeled Allison as the weakest between the two. She successfully cornered Lucas at the end of the hallway. He threw open the door to the master bathroom, eyes darting desperately around for anything he could use to defend himself. He grabbed a towel rack, ripping it off the wall and wielding it like a bat as Ellie advanced on him, her face lit with a twisted satisfaction. A stupid towel rack wasn’t going to stop her, and honestly, it excited her. She loved how people fought for their lives, no matter how fucked up the situation was. It was fascinating to watch, like a wild show of survival instincts kicking in. The panic, the desperation on their faces and in their actions—it was what got her heart racing and made her feel alive.

“You… you’re insane!” Lucas stammered, brandishing the metal rod with trembling hands.

He was taller, bigger, stronger—details that only made the auburnette’s grin widen, her attentive eyes narrowing with anticipation. To her, he was nothing but a challenge, one she was all too eager to take on. Ellie chuckled darkly, her eyes never leaving him as she took one slow, measured step forward. “Only now figuring that out, huh?” She took another step, her shadow looming over him as he shrank back against the tiled wall, his breaths coming in panicked gasps. He swung the metal bar, catching her arm with a glancing hit, but it only seemed to amuse her more. She couldn’t feel pain—not even the faintest pulse of her own heartbeat, completely drowned out by the surge of adrenaline flooding her veins. She felt invincible.

With a swift, practiced precision, Ellie caught his wrist, twisting it sharply until the rod clattered to the aquamarine floor. “Nice try, Lucas,” she hissed before shoving him backward, hard enough that his head cracked against the tile. He slumped to the floor, groaning, his vision swimming as Ellie towered over him. But he fought nonetheless, his hands trying to stop her from sinking the sharp knife into his throat, but it didn’t last long. He didn’t last long.

“That was stupid,” she panted, standing over his corpse, her look sharp and full of disdain. Her face was scrunched in anger, but the adrenaline flooding her veins felt incredible—like a drug she couldn’t get enough of. The thrill of it. A loud noise snapped her from her thoughts. The old wood creaked under her black boots as she headed toward the room where she’d last seen Allison hide.

˳·˖𖤐 The guest bedroom door was slightly ajar, and she shoved it open with a firm kick. Her eyes locked onto Allison, sprawled lifeless on the floor, blood pooling around her still body. Her face was frozen in horror as if she’d seen a ghost in her final moments. Her gaze drifted up—to you, standing just a few feet from Allison’s lifeless body.

“Hey, babe,” you said with a crooked smile, giving her a little wave, clearly nervous but with a spark of excitement in your eyes that made her stare in awe. She remembered that feeling all too well—the jitters, the high that followed her first time. And here you were, cheeks flushed and grinning ear to ear like the fucking Cheshire cat, looking so damn giddy as you took it all in—like a kid who had just discovered their new favorite toy. 

Trying new things had definitely been the right move, and Ellie didn’t regret it for a second, because you were practically glowing. For the first time, you felt truly alive. It hit you then, just how much emptiness you’d been carrying all these years, how you’d learned to live with that hollow feeling. But this? This made you feel whole. Euphoric. Alive in every possible way.

“How’d I do?” you asked, almost childlike, looking up at her with eager eyes, fishing for approval—her approval. It was all you needed, and it felt like trying to impress a middle school crush all over again.

“Pretty good, my love. You did great,” she praised, a hint of pride sneaking into her voice.

“Yeah?” Your eyes lit up, a satisfied grin spreading across your face.

Her gaze softened briefly, a low, amused, throaty laugh slipping from her lips as she pushed a stray lock of hair back with the back of her blood-stained glove, leaving a smudged streak of red across her cheekbone. Her emerald eyes sparkled as she took in the mess you’d created. “You know, for a second there, I didn’t think you’d go through with it. Look at you now.” Her tongue darted across her bottom lip as she looked at you up and down, ready to pounce on you any time now.

You blushed, a bit sheepish, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the floor. “What can I say? Guess you’re a bad influence,” you smirked, shrugging it off like it was nothing.

She tossed the knife aside, and you mirrored her every move, watching as she peeled off her gloves and stepped closer. Her toothy smile widened as she pulled you in, her thumb brushing softly across your cheekbone, still warm from the adrenaline rush, while her other trembling hand rested on your waist. “Oh, yeah? Gonna start blaming me now?”

“Maybe,” you shot back, eyes sparkling with mischief. 

The freckled girl leaned in, pressing her lips against yours, soft and warm and she tasted so sweet.

“Your performance down there was flawless, and your technique…” she trailed off, her eyes trailing down to Allison’s body, “Not bad for your first time. A little shaky on the left stab, but hey,” she shrugged, lips curling into a teasing smirk, knowing damn well that even the gentlest dose of constructive criticism would get under your skin, “we’ll work on it.”

You scoffed and swatted her hand away, but Ellie just giggled, her laugh soft and breathless. “Can’t believe you got that question wrong, though,” she reached up to cup your face, her thumb brushing your cheek again, she couldn’t keep her hands off of you. That familiar smug smirk tugged at her heart-shaped lips as she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a more playful one, her breath warm against your heated skin. “We’ve only watched the first Scream movie a hundred times together,” she said, almost mockingly offended, her green eyes bright with mischief, the ones that told you exactly what she had in mind. And she swore she was falling deeper for you, you had her in a chokehold.

You rolled your eyes, fighting a smile. “I only watched it because you were obsessed with it and I thought you were cute,” you admitted.

Her eyes sparkled with delight, and she raised her scarred eyebrow at you. “Oh, is that so?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, feeling her hand drift lower to your waist, pulling you closer, you cupped her cheek, your thumb caressing her blood-stained cheekbone lovingly, staring at her enamored.

Her lips brushed against your ear, voice low and teasing. “You know what I'm really in the mood for?” Her hand slipped lower and lower until it was resting on your plush ass, giving it a suggestive squeeze.

You chuckled, pretending to think. “Pizza?”

She let out a soft laugh. “I was gonna say you, but…” She gave you that crooked, lopsided smile, shrugging playfully.

You snorted, “Oh, well, that too. I just didn’t know killing works up your appetite.”

Her smirk deepened, revealing that dimple on her left cheek you loved so much, her infatuated gaze lingering on your lips almost as if she wanted to swallow you whole. “My bad. Should’ve warned you,” she murmured, then backed you toward the bed behind you, her hands rough but confident, pressing you down as she crawled on top, her breath hot and insistent against your supple skin.

Before you knew it, she was buried deep inside you, slender, calloused fingers curling and pressing against that spot that had you whining, and your legs trembling. Her other hand gripped her switchblade, cool metal tracing up to press it against your throat, and she could feel you squeeze her fingers. “Awwhh, baby,” she taunted, voice dripping with mockery. “You keep squirming like that, and it’s gonna cost you your life.”

You choked out a laugh, though it came out breathless and shaky. “You’d cum at the sight, wouldn’t you?” You bit your lip to stifle a moan, body struggling to hold still as she kept up that relentless rhythm, her fingers stretching and curling deep inside you, making your whole body shudder. You couldn’t help but trap her arm, a weak attempt to slow her down because you knew you wouldn’t last. Not with her pressing a knife on your throat. “Fucking psycho.”

“But you love me.” She said it so matter-of-factly, her lips curling with satisfaction as she watched you nod, helpless and needy, your eyes fluttering shut as your walls clenched around her, drawing her in like you couldn’t get enough.

“Yeah, I love you! F-Fuck…” you gasped, grinding down on her fingers, desperate, craving that friction your hungry clit needed. 

Her smitten gaze drifted to the lifeless body sprawled across the room, a proud smirk tugging at her lips. “So proud of you. You did such a good job. Look at her.” She tilted your face, forcing you to take it in. “Your work.” And in her fucked up mind, she truly believed it—your work deserved to be worshiped, just like Picasso’s after he was gone. A masterpiece, painted with every kind of brutal emotion.

You let out a shaky breath, almost dazed. “Yeah, I… I did that,” you stammered, voice breaking, caught somewhere between a whimper and a sob, you could feel it, you were close already and all that praising surely wasn’t helping.

“That’s right,” she murmured, nodding as her eyes roamed over you, taking you in like she was seeing you for the first time, it made you melt. “You’re so fucking hot, god. Made just for me. Perfect for me.”

˳·˖𖤐 Maybe she was right. You felt it deep down, a truth that clung to you. A match made in hell. And as long as you had her, you’d be more than fine.

[loonylupinblack3]

Ex Boyfriend

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: swearing, sort of attempted murder, slight spoilers for s4

Summary: you're spending the day at the beach when your ex boyfriend appears with his Kook friends.

Word count: 5.1k

A/N: no turtles were harmed in this! also first ever rafe fic but im literally obsessed with him rn so.....

The waves were perfect, giant curls of water crashing down, creating a spray of sea salt hosing down anyone in its vicinity. The sun was shining, your deck chairs all set out, and you were ready for a day of surfing, sun baking, and hanging out with your friends.

“Those are some sick waves!” JJ whooped, kicking the sand in celebration.

You laughed along with him, unpacking the final board from the top of Twinkie and handing it to Kie. Dusting your hands you turned to survey the beach with an appraising look, eyes scanning the waves and the shine the sun casted on them.

You went back to the Twinkie and helped John B carry out the ice box, grunting slightly at the effort and receiving a teasing glance from the boy across from you. “Too heavy for you?”

You scoffed. “As if. I was the one who lugged the wood from Poguelandia for a mile when the truck broke down, remember?”

John B gave a tilt of his head. “Touche.”

The both of you planted the box by the chairs and opened it up, as many drinks as you could fit packed in among the ice inside. JJ snatched the first one and you chucked him the beer opener, a satisfying click accompanying the action as he opened the bottle.

Hand in the box to get one yourself, you paused when you heard the telltale growl of vehicles heading your way. You stood up, squinting into the distance as you spotted a line of cars driving towards you.

“You’re joking.” To your dismay you recognised the shiny, expensive cars as those belonging to the Kooks that shared this island with you. You scowled along with the rest of your group, eyeing the cars with barely disguised contempt.

“Keep going,” JJ muttered under his breath, eyes fixed to the line of vehicles as they passed you by.

Some attempted a pitiful chance at civilness, giving half hearted waves and strained smiles. Others saw the uselessness of it and kept their gazes ahead, pretending as if you didn’t exist. The worst were the ones who gave you the backlashing smiles and devil eyes, each glance a dig at you and your friends.

“Anywhere but here,” Kiara murmured from beside you.

You couldn’t help but agree with her sentiment, willing the cars to continue by without stopping. You wanted to enjoy the day, and you found the idea hard to do if there were a bunch of Kooks next to you.

You watched the cars intently, and felt a sharp stab of disappointment and frustration as you noticed them slowing down, rolling to a stop about 30 metres to your left.

“Oh you're joking,” Kie said. “Of course they stop here.”

You tried to smother the anger rising up inside you as you watched them start exiting their cars. “Why wouldn't they? When there's an entire beach.”

“We were here first,” Sarah pointed out, as if it’d help us. It didn’t matter if we were first or not. The Kooks got what they wanted regardless of what Pogues were in the way. You were all too familiar with that fact of life.

JJ shook his head and kicked the sand again, except there was anger in the action rather than excitement. “It's a waste of waves, if you're asking me.”

“Don’t let them ruin the day for us,” you advised. “It’s just what they want.”

John B let out a sigh but continued unpacking, and you felt relief in your chest. The last thing you needed was a fight to break out between the Pogues and the Kooks. You could be civil to one another. Hopefully.

It wasn’t long until you were all ready for the day ahead, the Twinkie empty and sitting to the side. You’d just sat down in your chair, drink in hand, when your gaze had strayed to the Kooks, wanting to keep an eye on them.

You hadn’t wanted to see Rafe there, settling down on a beach chair similar to your own, sunglasses covering his face. Even so, you could tell when he noticed you staring, the slight stiffening of his shoulders, his mouth curling into a small scowl.

You knew your own face was mirroring his expression and quickly looked away lest your emotions get the better of you.

“Great,” Sarah said, also noticing Rafe. “My brother’s here.”

All eyes were immediately on you and you resisted the urge to glower at them. Your friends were well aware of the relationship you’d once had with Rafe, a strange sort of understanding you’d shared that no one else could make sense of. They also remembered how it ended, with Rafe on the airstrip, demanding you not go on the plane to South America. You could still hear his ultimatum ringing in your head, ‘if you get on that plane, we’re done.’

You didn’t regret your decision. You’d choose the exact same if you had the chance. Your friends needed help. You’d never turn your back on them. It was just a shame that Rafe perceived that as you turning your back on him.

In summary, you were both harbouring hard feelings for one another, and seeing him there today did nothing to help your mood.

You cleared your throat, fingers clasped tightly around the drink in your hand. “Let’s just ignore them, yeah?”

If any of your friends noticed the tightness of your smile they didn’t comment on it, eager to go along with your suggestion and not allow the Kooks to ruin your day. That was until you noticed Topper heading your way and John B walking to meet him.

You let out a sigh, sharing a look with Sarah. None of you wanted a fight to break out, but you were all well aware of how much boys let testosterone lead instead of their head, these two boys in particular.

You were watching the rather tense conversation between them, too far to actually hear anything, when your gaze slid to Rafe. A hot flush went through you when you noticed he was already watching you.

You held his gaze, his eyes eating up the distance between you before devouring you yourself. Even from here you could spot the familiar hunger in his eyes, and you tried to tell yourself you didn’t enjoy it, clinging to the words even when your stomach flipped when he still didn’t look away.

“Y/n?”

Tearing your gaze away first felt like losing somehow, but you couldn’t keep blatantly staring at him after your friends called for your attention. So, with a strange feeling of defeat coating your mouth, you turned to Kiara, the girl watching you with an indecipherable expression.

You managed a smile. “Yeah?”

The girl hesitated, mouth slightly open as she thought over her words. Eventually she gave you a half smile, a knowing look in her eyes. “You gonna make that drink you learned in Chile?”

You grinned. After El Dorado you’d taken a month to travel abroad, spending some of your share of the small fortune you’d all managed to pull together. The other’s had been supportive of your wanting to leave. Even if they had never liked Rafe, they all understood what it was to lose the person you loved, and they shared your belief that some time away would help heal your wounded heart.

And it had helped. You’d forgotten all about him on your trip (mostly) and hadn’t thought about him (much) after you got back. 

“Sure will,” you said, “but be warned. This drink is strong. Not for the weak.”

Kie grinned back at the idea of a challenge, just as John B walked back to you, glowering but fully intact. 

To cheer everyone up, you decided making your drink would be a good idea, give them a challenge. All your friends liked a challenge. Plus, you wanted to see JJ chug a whole glass and regret it. The guy was good with alcohol but even he wouldn’t see this coming.

You hummed a tune under your breath as you prepared the drinks, singing along to the music blasting through the Kooks’ speakers. Even from here it was loud enough to hear the words and you quietly sang along as your friends relaxed around you.

“Alrighty,” you spoke, a tray of drinks in your hand. “Everyone take one, take one, there you go.”

When the tray was empty except for one last glass you took it and raised it in the air. “Ready? One, Two, Three!”

You didn’t even bother to take a sip, watching intently as JJ chugged the whole drink just as you expected. And just like you expected he became a spluttering mess, choking and coughing, making a whole big deal.

Loud enough to garner attention from the Kooks too. When John B followed JJ’s footsteps, apparently deciding JJ couldn’t handle it but he could, and also following in JJ’s footsteps of deeply regretting it, your whole group was laughing and cheering.

It was enough for the Kooks to take a peek.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” Topper asked, walking over.

You looked past and found a trail of sorts of Kooks making their way to you, and with a jolt you realised Rafe was one of them. He wasn’t actually going to come over, was he? Yet he didn’t stop his procession and suddenly was standing right next to Topper and you had to fight to keep your eyes from straying to him.

“Trying out some drinks,” you said, because the rest of your friends had suddenly become mute. “I learnt a pretty good recipe when I was in Chile and-”

“You were in Chile?”

You stopped at Rafe’s words, the velvety lilt of his voice all too familiar. You finally let yourself look at him, finding him staring at you intently, a small frown plastered on his face. 

“Um, yeah,” you said. “I went for a bit of travelling.”

Rafe looked like he wanted to ask something else but held his tongue, gesturing for you to continue what you’d been saying previously. Hesitantly, because part of you was uneasy with Rafe standing right there, and the other part slightly nervous with all the Kooks’ attention on you – because they’d all come over now – you continued your story. You detailed where you’d discovered it, who taught you how to make it, and most importantly, the utter strength and devastation of the drink.

By now the Kooks were getting exciting, slapping each other on the chest and making bets of who could take it. They’d all seen JJ and John B’s display and wanted to try it out for themselves.

“You mind making a few extra for us to try?” Topper asked.

You hesitated. You'd always gotten along with Topper, and had spent more time with him than the other Pogues had – excluding Sarah, of course – because of his relationship with Rafe. Of course your view on him was different now, after the incident with him burning John B’s house down, but you weren’t as opposed to him as your other friends were.

As if also remembering the friendship you’d once shared, Topper gave you a smile, and you didn’t really see the point in denying them, especially if you wanted to keep the peace between the two tribes.

“Sure,” you said, with a smile only slightly strained. “I’ll start making another batch now.”

There were cheers from the group as you turned back to your preparation table, going through the motions of making the drink all over again. JJ appeared at your side. “You don’t gotta do this you know. We can tell em’ to get lost and that will be that.”

You were already shaking your head. “It’s fine. Really. I don’t mind. And if it keeps them from ruining our day all the better.”

JJ gave you a long look, eyes narrowed. He glanced at Rafe, milling about with some of the Kooks who’d stayed while the others went to grab more chairs. Apparently they were moving over here for the time being.

“And it’s got nothing to do with your ex boyfriend being here?”

You scowled at JJ. It was an unspoken rule that none of the Pogues mentioned Rafe or your relationship with him. They all saw how hard the break up hit you. JJ just loved breaking rules though. “No, it doesn’t. You should know as well as I do that pissing off Kooks does no one any good.”

JJ sighed, likely because you were right. “Yeah, but it’s so fun though.”

You snorted, shaking your head as you shooed him away from your work, focusing on re-making your drink. You had just enough supplies for a second batch – lucky, because you wouldn’t want to find out what the Kooks would do if you went back on your offer now – and managed to whip it up in less than 10 minutes.

“Alrighty, everybody take one – there should be some left over if anyone wants a second try – and brace yourselves.”

You found your heart was pounding as you passed the tray around the group of Kooks, getting closer and closer to Rafe before you found yourself standing face to face with him. He took the glass, eyes solely on you as he nodded and you passed him by, giving the rest of the Kooks their drinks.

You frowned to yourself as you placed the tray back on the table, only a couple drinks left, and picked up your own. What did that nod mean? Was it a polite nod, just to be civil, or had it meant something else? Had he been trying to tell you something with it?

You mulled it over in your head as the others drank, barely paying attention to their outbursts. They were even worse than JJ and John B though, you managed to pick up that, and the thought made you smile slightly.

To your surprise, after your drinks had been finished or forgotten by the Kooks, they stayed around. Sure, their chairs were further from yours – it wasn’t like you were all sitting in a circle around a campfire or anything – but they were close enough that if you wanted you could have a conversation with them without yelling. Maybe they were planning on having another drink of yours, or maybe they were just too lazy to move back to their original spot. Either way, it put you on edge, and you noticed it did the same to your friends too. Maybe giving them drinks hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

One of the guys – Kelce, if you remembered correctly – whistled, and it was only when he did it a second time did you realise he was whistling at you. You turned to him and raised an eyebrow.

“Get me another drink of yours,” he called out, resting comfortably in his chair.

You scoffed. “I’m not your maid.”

Kelce pretended to ponder your words. “Aren’t you though? I mean you’re a Pogue so-”

“Get the damn drink yourself if you want it Kelce,” Rafe snapped viciously, his body taught as he glared at his friend.

Immediately Kelce backed off, muttering under his breath, but he didn’t finish his sentence. He also didn’t grab another drink, so maybe he didn’t want it that bad. The tension between the two tribes rose after that, but you barely noticed it, eyes trained on Rafe.

He refused to so much as look at you. He’d just defended you in front of all his friends, and he won’t even look at you. You were pissed. Logically thinking, this shouldn’t have made you all that mad, but he was so confusing. He broke up with you and now he was defending your honour and speaking back to his own friends for you. What did it mean?

Eventually the Kooks started leaving, travelling back to their own domain, dragging their chairs behind them. You were relieved, but also disappointed. You were so wrapped up in everything Rafe; you didn’t want it to just end.

Except it was already over, you reminded yourself as you grabbed your board, intending to do a little surfing. Your friends followed your lead and headed out to the ocean to catch some waves. Even Sarah came, catching some of the smaller ones and cheering in celebration when she managed to ride it.

You were catching your own waves too, grinning at the exhilarating feeling of flying over the water, having the waves chase behind you. You could hear your own friends cheering, only elevating your mood, and you didn’t even remember you were sharing the beach with Kooks until you were waiting for the next wave, a rare lull coming over the water, and had them floating nearby.

You noticed Topper among them just as he did you and you gave him a hesitant smile. Topper returned it and moved over to you, taking his Kook friends with him. Your own muttered unpleasant words but didn’t outright tell them not to come over, so you found yourself floating on your board side by side with Topper.

“Been a while,” he commented, glancing at you.

You looked at the water lapping against your thighs that were spread across your board. You nodded your head. “Yeah, it has.”

He hesitated, glancing at your friends behind you. “How are you doing, with… everything?”

Everything being Rafe.

You shrugged noncommittally, unwilling to give the man next to you anything, lest it find its way to Rafe. “I’m good.”

Not exactly a lie. But was it the truth?

“It's getting big out there, huh?” JJ called, gesturing to the rising waves.

Topper nodded his head good-naturedly. “Sure is.”

“See that one?” JJ asked, pointing to the oncoming wave. It was an impressive one, slowly building to a height that beat all the others before it, promising a giant impact when it eventually crashed in on itself.

Topper let out a whoop and JJ grinned at him, though it wasn’t his normal type of grin. There was a maliciousness to it, one that made you uneasy looking at it. 

“Is that you?” JJ asked.

Topper looked at him, noticing his grin. He didn’t know him well enough to realise it meant he had ill intentions, nodding with a similar smile. “Yeah baby that’s all me.”

You floated closer to JJ, giving him a stern look. “JJ…”

He gave you innocent eyes, blinking at you. “What? Just being friendly.”

You scoffed, because you highly doubted it, but you’d learnt there was no stopping JJ when he was planning something. Still, you hoped it didn’t end with violence between the Kooks and the Pogues, like it always seemed to.

Topper readied himself for the wave, drifting closer, a tighter grip on his board. It was only when you noticed JJ doing the same thing did you realise his plan.

“JJ no-”

You were too late, the boy sailing on his board and cutting Topper off right at the last minute. There were shouts of dismay from the Kooks and you were tempted to join them. JJ could be so rash sometimes.

There were more disgruntled noises as Topper disappeared from view, appearing moments later sopping wet with a scowl on his face. Realising the civilness between the Pogues and Kooks was effectively over, you swam back to shore, dragging your board over the sand and dropping it rougher than needed on the ground.

It was time to leave. You didn’t want to be there to watch the eventual fight between the Kooks and the Pogues that was bound to happen. After what JJ did you were surprised they didn’t try to drown him in the ocean. 

Kiara was thinking along the same lines, helping you pack up the boards on the roof of the Twinkie before folding all the chairs. By the time the others came back from the ocean you were nearly finished, your spot looking unusually bare.

“Woah, what we doing?” JJ asked. “The sun is still out.”

You resisted the urge to snap at him. You knew it was just who he was, but sometimes, when JJ’s lack of thought affected all of you instead of just him, it was difficult to keep calm with him.

“We’d rather not be here when the Kooks go crazy,” Kiaria said shortly, somewhat forcefully taking JJ’s board from him.

JJ made a sound of displeasure, looking around at your friends. When he looked at you all you could do was shrug because Kie was right. It was better to be gone before they decided on revenge.

You were all finally ready to go when you spotted something strange in the sand. It seemed to be moving, as if there was something under it. You stepped closer and let out a gasp as a tiny sea turtle fought its way through the sand, its head peeking out into the world.

“It’s a hatch!” you called. “Kie! Quickly!”

The girl raced over to you and let out an excited shriek, looking at the turtles with awe. Your other friends surrounded them, watching as they slowly made the treacherous journey to ocean water.

“Look at these little nuggets,” John B said, kneeling down to get a better look at them.

Kiaria took a step back. “Wait, wait, back up, give them some space. You can’t touch them.”

You all followed her warning, taking a few steps back. You couldn’t bear to go too far back though, because the sight before you was so special you wanted to drink in every single aspect.

“We’ve gotta make a path right?” you asked, glancing at your friends.

John B nodded, following your train of thought. “Yeah, we need to make it safe. Get these footprints off.”

Kie started calling out orders that we all followed diligently, telling Sarah to look for seagulls and other predators while the rest of you tried to smooth out the sand for the turtles to crawl over.

“We should make like a highway,” John B mused.

You nodded. “A turtle highway.”

“A turtle highway!” Sarah cheered. “Come on kids.”

John B was in front of them, leading the way to the sea. “Come on, follow your human daddy straight to the ocean-ocean.”

JJ frowned. “Why do you get to be the dad?”

John B gave him a look, about to answer when you all heard the sound of the Kooks’ cars. You turned around and recognised Topper’s jeep heading towards you. You were surprised when you noticed Topper in the passenger seat, a girl that must have been his girlfriend in the driver’s seat.

Kie stepped forward, cupping her hands around her mouth as she called, “Hey! Hey stop! There's a hatch!”

The car drove determinedly towards you though, either ignoring or not hearing Kiara’s yelling. The rest of you joined in, waving your arms, shouting at the oncoming vehicle about the hatch right behind you.

“Let’s just get out of the way,” John B said.

Kiara scoffed. “No I don’t think so.”

So the screaming continued, as they got closer and closer to the hatch. At the last minute you all ducked to the side and the jeep drove past, barely missing you but thankfully leaving a wide enough berth for the turtles.

You thought it was over, letting a relieved breath loose, when the car turned around.

“No, no no, no.” 

The screaming continued. You planted yourself right in front of the hatch, a barrier, and refused to budge. Topper’s girlfriend noticed your savage stare, the tense set of your shoulders and seemed to choose you as her victim, heading right for you. For the hatch.

Your voice was hoarse from your screaming. How could they not hear you? You were certain the Kooks behind you could, and though the car’s engine was loud surely it wasn’t that loud. With all your voices put together surely they could hear something. Maybe they just didn’t care.

You stood still as the car came closer and closer. She’d stop. She’d have to. She couldn’t kill you. Your resolve was fracturing slightly, however, as the car proceeded forward with no signs of stopping or swerving. By now your own friends were yelling at you to get out of the way, but it was too late.

The car was right there in front of you, so close you could see the horror on Topper’s face and the sneer on his girlfriend’s, and then suddenly you were being pushed aside, a pair of familiar strong arms wrapped around you.

You hit the sand with a thud, feeling your bones ache as the impact hit you. Still, the arms around you stayed there, and it took you a moment to realise why they were so familiar. Because they belonged to Rafe.

The man was breathing deeply next to you, catching his breath as his grip never faltered.

“Let me go Rafe,” you said through gritted teeth.

The man scoffed, ignoring your plea as you both got upright. His arms were now firmly around your waist. “Why, so you can try to get yourself killed again?”

You scowled. “I wasn’t trying to get myself killed-”

“Really? Because you standing there doing nothing while a car headed right for you seemed like getting yourself killed.”

You spun around in his grip, face to face with him. You hadn’t been this close to him since before you broke up. From here you could see the specks of brown decorating the blue of his eyes, the eyes you’d loved so much. Still loved, if you were being honest.

“There was a hatch,” you hissed. “I was trying to protect it.”

“And that’s worth your life?” Rafe asked incredulously. He was staring at you so intently, eyes glued to your face as his hands slightly moved up and down your back, as if he couldn’t help himself. “You can’t do things like that Y/n.”

You felt the familiar anger rise up inside me. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

Rafe looked taken aback and angry at your words. “Excuse me?”

“You’re not my boyfriend anymore.”

Rafe let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. He still didn’t let you go; if anything he held on tighter. “Are you serious right now? I just saved your life.”

You rolled your eyes. “They would have stopped-”

“Oh my god, Y/n, no they wouldn’t have. When are you gonna realise that? Huh? Not everyone is gonna take care of you out there like me,” Rafe accused, getting into that hot headed way of his.

You scoffed incredulously, pushing yourself away from him. His grip tightened for a second before reluctantly letting you go, though he did not look at all happy about it. “Take care of me? As in dumping me on an airstrip?”

“Because you left me!” Rafe burst out, looking harried. “What, I’m supposed to stay with you after you blatantly choose them over me? Do you just not value me as your boyfriend?”

You let out a frustrated groan. Sometimes you wanted to scream at him. “I didn’t choose you over them! They needed me.”

“I needed you,” Rafe hissed. “I needed you and you left me.”

You opened your mouth but paused. Rafe was being unusually vulnerable with you, even if it was disguised by anger, and you started to wonder if maybe he was missing you just as much as you missed him.

“I didn’t mean to,” you said quietly. You saw Rafe’s eyes soften slightly at the change in your tone, and suddenly everything disappeared but the two of you. There were no Kooks, no Pogues, no tension between them. It was just you two, standing on the beach, the unknown of your relationship hanging above your heads. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Rafe’s jaw clenched. He was struggling to find something to say, half of him wanting to snap and tear you down, while the other physically recoiled against the idea of hurting you in any way. Eventually he sighed, rubbing the side of his face tiredly. “Why’d you have to fucking leave?”

“Why’d you have to make me choose?”

You both stayed silent after that, staring at each other. It was obvious you craved each other, missed the other's presence. But could you look past what had already happened between you? Were you able to look past the mountain of problems and pain you’d caused each other?

You desperately wanted to say yes, but you were scared he wouldn’t do the same. Still, you had to try, right?

You took a deep breath, fear making your throat clogged. “Rafe, I miss y-”

You didn’t even get to finish your sentence before his lips were crashing against your own, his hand already tangled in your hair, cupping your head. You melted into the kiss, your arms snaking around his neck, desperate to be closer. After all these months apart the distance between you felt enormous, and you wanted it gone. Rafe seemed to think the same, forcefully tugging you to him, eliminating the space. 

He kissed your mouth like a man starved, lips harsh and bruising against your own. You felt heat enveloping your body, goosebumps rising with every swipe of his tongue in your mouth. Pleasure you hadn’t felt in so long was filling your mind, his lips satisfying a craving you’d spent so long trying to ignore.

When air became a factor and you pulled away for a breath he only let you go so far, having your forehead rest against his own. Being this close to him, this familiar, was making your heart ache with longing.

His hands wrapped around your waist and stayed there, now freely wandering up and down your back. He kissed your jaw, your throat, collarbone, anywhere he could as you caught your breath, like he just couldn’t bear not to be kissing you.

“Rafe,” you murmured. When he didn’t answer you said his name again, and a grunt escaped his mouth in acknowledgement, still kissing your throat. “I need to go.”

This made him stop kissing you, and he pulled back to look at you with an angry attitude. “What?”

You gestured behind him, where your friends were waiting by the Twinkie. They’d finished keeping the turtles safe as they went into the ocean, and judging by the calm if irritated air around them, none of the turtles got injured from Topper and his girlfriend’s semantics.

“They’re waiting for me.”

Rafe made a sound of displeasure, pulling you even closer, if that was possible. “You can stay with me.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. “I can?”

Rafe discerned the second meaning behind your question almost immediately. You could stay with him, for more than just today? As his partner, as you’d once been?

The man let out a breathy laugh, pressing his lips against your forehead. “Of course baby. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[the-travelling-witch]

CUTE THINGS WITH HIM

summary: just some cute things they do in a relationship

pairings: atsumu :: osamu :: suna :: kita :: oikawa :: iwaizumi :: matsukawa:: semi :: akaashi :: kenma :: kuroo :: daichi :: suga :: sakusa :: komori :: futakuchi :: keishin x gn! reader (these characters just started adding themselves, i swear)

warnings: only my undying love for these characters

haikyuu masterlist || tokyo revengers version

Letting you stick your cold feet under his legs (with only minimal complaints) x Miya Atsumu

Atsumu is a whiny complainer at heart, so whenever you creep your frigid feet underneath his thighs while watching a movie, he’s doing exactly that: whine and complain. But he never pushes you away or moves his legs. Instead he drapes the blanket higher over you and tugs it in, his warm palms running up and down your calves caringly. He’s also bought you numerous pairs of fuzzy socks and cosy blankets, worrying aloud about your health and blood flow, especially in winter. Then again, it is a good excuse to pull you in closer and bundle you up in his comfy clothes, so who is he to complain, really?

Offering you his food x Miya Osamu

Osamu takes his food very seriously, still, he offers you the first bite without fail. You’re also his most important critic, always getting to taste test his creations, whether it’s for his shop or just for the two of you. He might roll his eyes playfully when you eye his food after saying you’re not hungry but he’ll still share. After all, seeing the content expression on your face as you chew your (or his) food is one of his favourite things.

Sending you stupid memes x Suna Rintarō

The fact that Suna has a near infinite amount of unflattering candids and other blackmail material of his friends on his phone is something you’re well aware of. So it shouldn’t be surprising either that he is digging up the most cursed reaction pics or posts to send them to you with nothing but ‘u’ following it. But, among all the weird stuff, he sends you cute animals cuddling and tags them with ‘us’. Every time you respond with ‘that could be us but you’re at practice’, his teammates come up to ask what he’s smiling about.

Buying flowers without occasion x Kita Shinsuke

Kita doesn’t believe in letting societally accepted commercial holidays dictate when he buys you flowers or chocolates or takes you out on a date. No, he prefers showing his love for you equally all year round. Oftentimes, that means you coming home to a bouquet of flowers or being told to keep your calendar clear for the weekend. To him, grand shows of affection once a year pale in comparison to a steady stream of adoration. After all, your relationship is built on the small acts of love you share each day.

Taking weird photos with his phone x Oikawa Tōru

There’s no room to argue that Oikawa and you trust each other blindly. Considering the circumstances of his career and the vigour of his adoring fans, you kinda have to. But Oikawa has always been very open and honest with you, even going so far as to outright tell you his phone’s passcode. And you use that knowledge wisely. No, not to go through his texts or social media. Instead you open his camera when he’s not around, taking a myriad of selfies or pictures of random objects near you for him to find later. After a night out with his highschool friends, Tōru might wake up to a pretty set of new wallpapers too.

“Helping” him work out x Iwaizumi Hajime

You’re not sure if you’re really all that helpful as you shuffle around your living room, handing Iwa water or a towel as he powers through his at home workout. Maybe ogling his biceps or the way his tank top clings to the defined pecs and abs underneath is what you contribute to this training session. Well, you’re good at that, anyway. But your time to shine comes as Iwa asks you to hold onto his legs as he does sit-ups, giving you an even better view. All your hard work is rewarded with the kiss he presses to your lips each time he leans up. 

“Is this guy bothering you” x Matsukawa Issei

Whenever you stub your toe on the edge of a drawer or bump your hip into the edge of a table, hissing at the shock and/or pain, Matsukawa is right beside you in seconds. Then, after assessing you’re not actually hurt, he turns towards the offending object with a glare. With his voice lowered by an octave or two, he’ll ask “Is this guy bothering you” before pretending to get ready for a fight with the big bad. It’s corny but you’d lie if you said it didn’t make you laugh.

Shared headphones and playlists x Semi Eita

Music is Semi’s passion, naturally he wants to share that part of his life with you. Not only does he play his own songs for you, he also shares his headphones with you, adding all the songs you like to your shared playlist. You’ve also started making recommendation playlists or playlists with songs that remind you of the other and swap them regularly. Driving with Semi is also the most fun, especially on late summer nights with the windows down, going nowhere in particular.

Understanding each other without words x Kozume Kenma

To outsiders, conversations between Kenma and you might seem a little court or even incomprehensible. He just happens to be the type that lets his actions speak rather than his words, unless he gets really fired up about something. Still, your communication seems to work perfectly - or maybe both of you just share a brain cell. Questions like “Have you seen my…” can just be left hanging like this as you’re already pointing out that his old Nekoma sweatpants are in the wash. But no conversations are clearer than the ones you can hold through eye contact alone. Sometimes rolling your eyes conveys more than a thousand words… or however that saying goes.

Letting you win x Kuroo Tetsurō

Despite his suit and tie career, Kuroo is still a playful guy at heart and he’s carrying that energy into your relationship. He also grew up around Kenma, so making a game out of ordinary stuff is normal to him. That said, even if he challenges you in a board or video game, he’ll let you win on purpose every now and then. Not enough to give himself away, but often enough to see your beaming grin. However, if it’s a physical contest like an arm wrestling match, he will let you win (or rather he won’t let you lose immediately) just to tease you over it. Aw c’mon, he knows you’re stronger than this, sweetheart.

Good morning/ good night texts x Sawamura Daichi

Daichi is a busy guy, often out of the house before you wake up or back in after you go to sleep. Depending on which shift he has to work and how your schedules line up, you might not see much of each other for some time. But that won’t stop him from being the sweetest partner, instead sending you good morning and good night texts as well as updates on his day/night, if he has the time. It’s something that came with the territory of not living together before, but the practice never really retired. Equally, it puts him in a good mood to see you update him on your day as well.

Bragging about you x Sugawara Kōshi

Suga is your number one fan, no doubt about it. Not only is he vocal about that to you but also everybody else, whether you’re there or not. Daichi and Asahi are kind of used to it already, but there is always some new unfortunate soul who gets to experience just how smitten he is with you. He never makes it uncomfortable but weaves his praise for you naturally into a conversation. And if it flusters you, that’s just all the better. Although, lately, the classes he’s teaching have picked up on it and are trying to stall for time by asking questions about you.

Writing notes x Sakusa Kiyoomi

This probably started out as something entirely practical. After moving in together, Sakusa just started labelling stuff, writing grocery shopping lists and sticking them to the fridge, especially on days where he left early for practice. By the time you pointed out he could just text you at any given time, he’d already gotten used to this little habit of his. But his messages had slowly turned from chore-related to reminding you to take care of yourself or informing you he prepped lunch for you to just telling you he loves you. The first time he wrote that last one, he blinked down at the note for a few moments before sticking it to the mug cabinet.

Midnight snack run x Komori Motoya

Obviously, Komori wishes his job wouldn’t pull him away from you as often as it does. Though that being said, it also makes coming home after an away game all that sweeter and he feels like the constant change of pace makes him cherish the moments you do get to spend together more than he already does. And he appreciates that you can indulge him, both in his lifestyle and whenever he gets a sudden burst of energy. So yeah, now you’re bundled up in one of his hoodies as you go on a late night snack run, your hand in his as you walk along the calm streets.

Remembering little things about you x Futakuchi Kenji

Futakuchi comes pre-installed with an attitude, no matter who you are to him, it’s his factory setting. And while he’s a lot softer on you as his partner, he’ll still give you a sarcastic quip or poke some fun at you when you complain about something to him. But he always listens carefully and commits it to memory. You offhandedly mentioned you’re running out of something? He adds it to his shopping list. You rant to him about a coworker who’s giving you trouble? Oh, he remembers everything you told him about that guy before (and he’s ready to drag him to hell and back if it makes you feel better). Whenever your birthday or an anniversary rolls around, he never has trouble picking out a gift for you; Kenji could list so many things you’re into or that you could have use for in your everyday life, it’s not even a challenge.

Getting into your hobbies x Ukai Keishin

Keishin has got to be one of the most supportive partners ever. Whatever you set your mind to or whichever hobby you dive into, he’s there to root for you. But he doesn’t stop there; he reads up on your interests, so he can actively participate in the conversation when you talk about them. Similarly, he also adapts to your lifestyle and tries to show up for you in all walks of life. You, on the other hand, also get involved in his life too; his parents were keen to meet you, considering they hounded Keishin to get married in his 20s already. He’d also be over the moon if you showed interest in his work as a coach and met the Karasuno Volleyball Club.

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[fushitoru]

chapter 7: the rebound a bridgerton au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary ⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, duke gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

warnings ⸺ nsfw, enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, SUGGESTIVE, eventual smut, jealousy, misogyny, description of injury, concussion, blood, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly

chapter summary ⸺ after the arrival of your dearest brother, you pursue a new angle to the season, one to prove that you, the diamond, will not be scorned. new opportunities with duke nanami arise and with it jealousy and bitterness fester in the ballroom. (6.8k)

prev. the house party | next. the lake

general masterlist | series masterlist

Once again, dear Reader, this humble Author finds herself vindicated. Country house parties, as ever, remain the fertile soil from which the most delicious scandals bloom. And today’s revelation is no exception.

Yes, indeed, you read it here first: the dashing and ever-elusive Lord Satoru Gojo will not be marrying Miss Itadori, this season’s most celebrated diamond. The murmurs have already begun spreading like wildfire, bringing sighs of relief from hopeful ladies and knowing smirks from their watchful chaperones. The eligible Duke-to-be’s sudden return to certified bachelorhood is, no doubt, a development many find most agreeable.

But what, pray, has caused this sudden turn of events? The dissolution of an arrangement so seemingly perfect? Alas, even this Author—a tireless seeker of truths—has found the particulars elusive. Was it a clash of personalities? A misstep at the ball? Or perhaps, a secret grievance unearthed during those long, candlelit evenings at the country estate?

What this Author can confirm is that the ballroom whispers point to Lord Gojo’s own doing, based upon the countenances and actions of the pair at the ball. Did the ever-charming lord tire of his diamond’s sparkle, or has he found a more alluring treasure elsewhere? The possibilities are endless, and so, it seems, is the intrigue surrounding the pair.

One thing remains certain: while Miss Itadori may have stumbled in this engagement, she remains a diamond among gems—brilliant, resilient, and admired. What paths now await her are anyone’s guess, but if this Author knows anything, it is that diamonds shine brightest under pressure.

As for Lord Gojo, the question lingers: will his rakish reputation survive this latest scandal unscathed? Or has he, at last, met a match too dazzling even for him to outshine? Rest assured, dear Reader, this Author will remain ever-vigilant, pen poised and ready to uncover the truth.

⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS

You could have had a bit more tact when informing Sukuna of the events of the past few days, for the reaction you gained made you realize that you may have made a misstep.

“What?!” Sukuna roared, looking at the three of you with fury. Yuji jumped, while you and Choso grimaced.  “He did what?!”

“Now, now, brother,” Choso stood up nervously to pat his younger brother on the shoulder. “It is all good and well, for I have arranged for a better match for our dear sister—”

“A duel!” Sukuna bellowed, standing up from his seat on the couch to stomp his way to the door. “I will challenge that Gojo fellow to a duel—” It was only until Yuji ran and tackled him to the ground that he was waylaid to God knows what he was going to do to Lord Gojo. You and Choso could only watch the scene, too perforce to the strength of bulls that your brothers had to be able to interrupt. 

A few scratches and awfully purple looking bruises later, Sukuna and Yuji were seated on the couch once again, thanks to Choso’s plead for nonviolence. It was then that Choso started explaining what had occurred in the season so far. “Mother insisted,” he sighed, shaking his head. “She seemed to have struck a mutual…entente with the Duchess of Gojo. It was only a matter of time before Mother forced her ways. Now that it has not redound in her favor, I have even more rationale to have my…way with Sister’s matches. For God’s sake, Sukuna stop glaring at me Mother left me behind on the first ball—”

Sukuna did not stop glaring; in fact, he chose that moment to take a long slurp of his tea while staring fiercely at him while Choso shifted nervously. After a long bout of silence, he finally offered, “I understand Mother can be very pushy, and that you, Choso, are not fierce enough to withstand her.” Choso did not even protest, just offered a deadpan. “But I, however, will not be a feather to a simple blow of the wind that Mother is. It is time our dear sister lived up to her reputation, what she has prepared so hard for.” He looks upon you with a soft gaze—that is, a soft gaze for Sukuna. “No matter how tactless Gojo’s estrangement was, Sister will recover, so long as her morale has not lessened.  Sukuna’s head turned sharply to you, “It has not weakened, right Sister? He has not left you heartbroken?”

You could hear your heart as you looked at your brother, dumbfounded. His perceptive gaze disarmed you, but you blurted out a “Of course not” and turned to hastily grab a pastry from the table next to the loveseat you were seated at.. When you looked back at your brother, you jumped as his gaze lingered on you then nonetheless turned to glare at your brother when Yuji opened his mouth, undoubtedly ready to irritatedly remark on his denseness.

No matter, you think to yourself. Whatever you feel about Gojo is of no matter. The visit at the manor was only a delay and a small obstacle for your season. It was time to attend to the matter at hand: finding a husband. 

The dewy grass kissed the hem of your nightgown as you wandered to the old swing set on the far edge of the manor grounds—a relic of your childhood, weathered but enduring. The creak of the chains was a sound that had long since embedded itself in your memory, a reminder of simpler days when duty had yet to tighten its grip.

You had not been able to sleep.

The house was still, the hush of midnight settling over its grand halls and sprawling grounds. Yet sleep evaded you, your thoughts as restless as the autumn breeze that stirred the curtains of your chamber. In the quiet, the weight of your obligations pressed heavily upon you, a familiar but unwelcome companion. Deciding that solitude under the stars might grant clarity where the confines of your room could not, you slipped on a shawl and had ventured outside.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Sukuna’s voice cut through the quiet, low and teasing. He was seated on a swing with his big frame illustrating a comical sight on the small seat. His silhouette was faintly illuminated by the dim glow of his cigarillo, and the faint ember cast fleeting shadows across his sharp features, making his smirk all the more pronounced.

The unexpected sight of him startled you for a moment, though you quickly masked your surprise. You drew your shawl tighter around your shoulders, the chill of the night settling into your skin, and stepped closer. “And here I thought I was the only one who sought refuge in our old playground at such an hour,” you replied lightly, though your voice carried the faint weight of sleeplessness. “What brings you here?”

He took a long, deliberate drag from the cigarillo before discarding it into the damp grass, the embers hissing softly as they extinguished. Straightening, he gestured to the empty swing beside him. “Thinking,” he said simply. “And you? Or do I even need to ask?”

You hesitated for only a moment before lowering yourself onto the swing, your fingers grazing the cold chains as you pushed back slightly. The seat creaked beneath your weight, swaying gently with your movements. The motion stirred a familiar ache of nostalgia—a reminder of days when life felt less complicated. “What else could it be but the endless circus of expectations Mother has so kindly bestowed upon me?”

The bitterness in your tone was impossible to conceal, and Sukuna chuckled darkly. He reached up to push a hand through his disheveled hair, his movements purposeful, almost theatrical. “Ah, yes,” he said mockingly. “The marriage parade. The grand auctioning of one’s life for the sake of the family name. What a fine role you’ve been cast in, dear sister. I don’t envy you.”

You gave a dry laugh, your voice quiet yet tinged with resolve. “Unfortunately, dear brother,” you began, staring into the star-dappled sky, “it is my duty to be wed.”

Sukuna turned to you sharply, his brow furrowing. “It is not your duty, least of all when it robs you of your freedom.”

A protest began to form on his lips, but you held up a hand, your expression soft yet resolute. “Let me finish,” you said, your tone firm but affectionate. Taking a deep breath, you continued, “If I were to grow old into a spinster, there would be no one to take care of me. You and Yuji would inherit our lands and manors, and Choso is the viscount; there would be no space for me except with some of our aunts.”

At the mention of your aunts, both of you shuddered involuntarily. The thought of their overbearing presence, their sharp tongues and endless criticisms, was enough to unite even the most quarrelsome of siblings.

“You cannot take care of me forever,” you said softly, your gaze dropping to the ground. The swing swayed faintly as you spoke, the motion as restless as your thoughts. “One day, you—or any of our brothers—might choose to start a family with someone you love. It would be intrusive of me to remain dependent on you all.”

Sukuna scoffed, his voice rising slightly with indignation. “You know better than anyone that I aim to travel the world. I cannot be chained to a family or a manor—not now, not ever.”

You turned to him, your eyes softening as you regarded his familiar fire, the same defiance that had always set him apart from the others. “Sukuna,” you said gently, your voice tinged with fondness, “you may do as you please, and I would never wish to impede you. But I cannot rely on you indefinitely. You deserve to live freely, to make your own choices without the burden of my future weighing on your conscience.”

Once again, silence enveloped you both, broken only by the faint creak of the swings and the rustle of the wind through the trees. Then, Sukuna eventually broke the quiet with a heavy sigh. “Then we must make sure to do well and find you a husband on your terms.”

You turned to him, brow arched in curiosity. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said, his lips curling into a mischievous smirk, “that you must stop playing the part Mother has assigned you. Demure and meek may be what she wants, but it’s hardly the truth of you. Besides,” he added, leaning closer as if to share a conspiracy, “do you think the kind of husband you’d want would fall for such a facade?”

His words caught you off guard, and you frowned slightly. “Are you implying I’m to frighten potential suitors away?”

“Not frighten,” Sukuna corrected, his tone amused. “But consider this: if a man is drawn to meekness, might that not suggest he wishes to dominate or control? Would you truly wish to tether yourself to such a person? Or would you rather find someone who can appreciate your independence, who will meet you as an equal?”

His reasoning gave you pause. The image of a husband who might respect your will, who might value the sharpness of your mind and the strength of your character, was tempting—if not entirely what you needed. “And how, pray tell, do you suggest I go about finding such a man?”

Sukuna’s grin widened. “Start by being yourself, unapologetically. Let them see the wit, the fire, the resolve that I know so well. Let them see you, and if they can’t handle it, then they aren’t worth your time.”

You smiled faintly, your heart lighter from his words. After all, this scheming was due on your part; you were only grateful this shift occurred with Sukuna as your humble advisor. “It’s a daring plan, brother. Let us hope it does not lead to my complete social ruin.”

Sukuna laughed, the sound rich and unrestrained. “If it does, then you shall travel the world with me. Who needs societal approval when there’s an entire world to explore?”

For a moment, the weight of your burdens felt a little easier to bear. Under the vast, starlit sky, you allowed yourself to hope that perhaps, just perhaps, there was a future where duty and happiness could coexist.

Despite the peace conversing with Sukuna had granted you, sleep evaded you still, leaving you to roll onto your side, the cool fabric of the pillow offering no solace. Your thoughts had been louder than ever these past weeks, and one name in particular echoed through your mind like a stubborn refrain: Gojo.

His face came unbidden, as vivid as if he were standing at the foot of your bed. That insufferable smirk, the casual way he tilted his head as if always in on some grand secret. He saw through you—that much was undeniable, no matter how much you abhorred it. It wasn’t just the way his piercing gaze seemed to cut through your defenses, stripping away the layers of pleasantries and propriety until you were left exposed. It was his words, too—sharp, direct, and unyielding. Unlike everyone else, he wasn’t content to let you be the demure and dutiful daughter your mother had so painstakingly sculpted.

You turned onto your back, staring up at the shadowed canopy above, the weight of his judgment pressing against your chest. “He wouldn’t want to marry me either,” you thought bitterly, biting your lip to suppress a laugh that was more self-deprecating than amused. Why would he? I am only but a pathological people-pleaser—a woman who smiles and nods and folds herself into whatever shape is required of her. It was a role you had perfected, a mask you wore so often that you sometimes forgot it wasn’t your face. And yet, he saw through it.

That was the part that unsettled you most—not his arrogance, not his sharp tongue, but his ability to cut through your defenses as though they were paper. He saw you, in all your contradictions and uncertainties, and somehow, you suspected that he pitied you for them. Or worse, respected you less for it.

Your stomach twisted at the thought, and you turned onto your other side, burying your face into the pillow. No wonder I’m still unmarried. The thought came unbidden, sharp and cruel. What man would want a wife who couldn’t even decide who she wanted to be?

But that wasn’t fair—not entirely. You had a plan, didn’t you? A bold, liberating plan that would take you far from the shadow of your mother’s expectations. You could already picture her face when you told her—calm, composed, and quietly furious, as though your refusal to obey were a personal affront. The thought brought the faintest flicker of satisfaction, but it was fleeting.

The plan wasn’t perfect, nor was it foolproof. It hinged on one pivotal point: finding a husband who could be an equal partner rather than a master. A man who could grant you the freedom to forge your own path in peace, without the constant weight of disapproval bearing down on you.

Your thoughts wandered to Duke Nanami. Equal in power to Gojo, fair-minded, and kind—a man with no appetite for games or artifice. If you manage to secure a match with him, the ton would not view your…blunder with Gojo with such amusement. Insofar your interactions this season, he had always treated you with quiet respect, never pressing you into conversations you didn’t wish to have or cornering you with expectations. He would be a good man to marry, you thought. A safe choice.

And yet, even as you considered him, Gojo’s face intruded once more, unwelcome and unavoidable. Duke Nanami was everything Gojo wasn’t—measured, steady, predictable. But it was Gojo who set your mind alight, who made you question things you had long accepted as unchangeable truths. He irritated you, challenged you, unnerved you in a way no one else did.

You sighed, turning again, the sheets tangling around your legs like restraints. The very fact that Gojo occupied your thoughts at all was infuriating. He had no place there, no right to linger in the quiet moments when you were supposed to find peace. And yet, here he was, as persistent in your mind as he was in person.

The plan. You needed to focus on the plan. Liberating yourself from your mother’s expectations wasn’t about Gojo or Duke Nanami or anyone else. It was about reclaiming yourself, about becoming a woman who didn’t need to twist herself into shapes for anyone—not your mother, not a potential husband, and certainly not Gojo.

And it would start at your wardrobe.

You give the most polite smile you can muster, but you do not need the mirror in front of you to know that your countenance is strained, the edges of your smile not reaching your eyes. “Lower it even further.”

A beat passes in the room as the modiste, your mother, and Sukuna stare at you in incredulity.  The bustline to your dress is low. Of course, it is not yet teetering on the edge of what is socially acceptable, and that is the position you want it to be. Hence, you gesture to Sukuna, prompting him to regain his senses and snap his head towards Momo. “Please attend to my sister’s request.”

You could smell what you mother was about to say, even if she had not yet done so. “My dear,” she began, “I hardly think that’s appro–” Sukuna’s glares reorients itself now to focus on your mother, and she purses her lips with what appears to be arduous effort, knowing a quarrel with Sukuna would escalate quite quickly, both immediate and unwise.  

Madame Momo, for the better, offers no protest as she lowers the deep, wine red fabric she was upholding against your body. If you were not wearing your regular clothes, you would know that quite a bit of the swell of your breasts would be framed by the dress. However, it wasn’t enough. “A bit lower.”

The modiste lets out a small sigh, her needle poised mid-air as she hesitates. “My lady, to lower it further would risk—” she pauses delicately, “—compromising the structural integrity of the gown.”

“I appreciate your insight, Madame, and know that you are quite skilled at your craft,” you flash her a semi-apologetic smile. After all, she is the one that has to attend to your…rebranding crisis and revamp a majority of your wardrobe. “However, I am afraid that I’d like to do something new this season. Something eye-catching.”

A faint chuckle escapes her lips, no doubt spurred on by the flattery. With a practiced hand, she adjusts the fabric once more, lowering it to the precise balance of scandalous and sophisticated. She steps back, her critical eye assessing her own handiwork. “Well, it will definitely be eye-catching.”

“Precisely.” You nod in approval, smoothing the line of the fabric with your fingers. “I believe Lady Whistledown,” you add, your voice tinged with knowing confidence, “will ensure that the modiste responsible for the diamond’s striking attire becomes the talk of the season.”

Momo’s lips twitch into a smile, and she dips her head in acknowledgment, already returning to her work with renewed purpose. Sukuna, standing to the side, folds his arms and smirks at the scene, clearly entertained by your audacity.

Your mother, meanwhile, remains silent, though her pursed lips betray her disapproval. Let her simmer, you think, satisfaction curling in your chest. This season is yours to command, and you will not be overlooked.

I cannot do this. I cannot I cannot I cannot I cann—

“Sister!” Sukuna called out. You regained your senses, snapping your head at once to look at him, who was holding out his hand. Swallowing, you grabbed it so he could assist you out of the carriage. What had you in a tizzy was the sheer amount of people. Yet again, you were attending your first party after the events in the countryside but this time without your mother and Yuuji. Not only had the people you were accompanied with changed, but also different attire. A red silk dress fell over your curves gracefully, the draping across your chest a bit lower than usual. It is the dress of your dreams—one that you would have worn if not for your mother and her beliefs regarding your image. Now, your clothing was still socially acceptable but nevertheless daring—exactly the image you wanted to present. 

However, it was safe to say that after the events of the house party, venturing out in another—with so much of your chest exposed—had you nervous. Oh God, perhaps this wasn’t the brightest of my ideas— (a/n she’s just a girl :( )

“Presenting Miss Itadori, Mister Itadori, and the Right Honorable The Viscount Itadori!” As you were announced to the room, with your brothers linking arms on either side of you, you smiled—trying not to let the nerves show. At the sound of your name, the buzz of conversation faltered, dozens of heads turning toward you. You felt the weight of their gazes—sharp, judgmental, curious. You were certain half of them were eager to witness the fallout of Whistledown’s latest scandal, while the other half seemed transfixed by the boldness of your attire.

Your eyes flitted over the sea of faces as you moved through the room. There were gasps, poorly veiled whispers, and even a few widened eyes aimed at Sukuna, but what truly set your nerves alight was the attention fixed squarely on you. You resisted the urge to fidget, to adjust the neckline of your gown, to shrink under their scrutiny.

Then, amid the crowd, your gaze locked onto a familiar figure with a piercing stare—Suguru Geto.

He was lounging by the far wall, a glass of wine in hand, his dark eyes gleaming with mirth. An amused smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he shook his head, clearly entertained. Your heart stuttered, the heat rushing to your cheeks making your nerves spike further. Am I being mocked?

Before the thought could consume you, he raised his glass in a mock salute, a gesture of acknowledgment—perhaps even respect. He then nudged the man standing next to him, none other than Duke Nanami.

Your pulse quickened at the sight of the Duke, his composed demeanor a stark contrast to Geto’s casual amusement. The weight of Nanami’s steady, discerning gaze was one you weren’t prepared to meet—not tonight. In the periphery, you caught Geto slipping toward the courtyard, his laughter soft but audible as he disappeared into the night.

You tore your gaze away just in time, focusing straight ahead as you approached the Queen. Your shoulders stiffened, the intricate beading of your gown catching in the light. The murmurs grew fainter, the towering figure of Her Majesty now looming just ahead. With each step, your pulse thundered louder in your ears, but you kept your chin high, determined not to falter.

When you and your brothers reached the foot of the throne, you slipped your arms free from theirs and sank into the deepest curtsy you could manage. "Your Majesty," you murmured, lowering your head to avoid the weight of her gaze. The richness of the room—gold-trimmed drapes, towering portraits, and the hum of whispered conversations—did little to steady your nerves.

"Rise," the Queen commanded, her tone clipped and dismissive, the single word laced with impatience. You obeyed, your movements deliberate and slow, feeling the weight of every eye in the chamber on your shoulders. When you met her gaze, she was already appraising you, her sharp eyes scanning you from head to toe. Her scrutiny was clinical, and when she sighed audibly, it was clear her judgment was far from favorable.

“I have not been…pleased by the recent affairs, diamond,” the Queen began, her voice cold and detached, like a blade gliding through silk. A sniff punctuated her words, and the lump in your throat grew harder to swallow. “I fear this is a failure to the crown.”

The room seemed to tilt, your heartbeat quickening in your chest. The Queen’s disappointment carried a weight that could crush reputations, and yours was teetering precariously on the edge of her approval.

“However,” her tone shifted ever so slightly, and you found yourself snapping to attention, clinging to that single word like a lifeline. “Your recent change in…style is fitting.”

You blinked, unsure if you had heard her correctly. The Queen’s gaze lingered on the daring neckline of your gown, the rich red fabric catching the light in just the right way to emphasize its boldness. “You are not a simple and bland gem, Miss Itadori.” Her words were deliberate, measured, and the faintest hint of approval gleamed in her sharp eyes. “You are a diamond, and you must start to shine like it.”

For a moment, you were too stunned to respond. The Queen’s words were praise, yes, but they also carried an implicit warning: a diamond that failed to sparkle was of no use to anyone, least of all the crown.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” you said, your voice steady but quiet, and you curtsied again, the fabric of your gown whispering against the marble floor. The Queen’s gaze swept over you once more before she turned her attention elsewhere, her dismissal unspoken but clear. As you rose again, Choso placed a reassuring hand on your elbow, a subtle anchor in the sea of your swirling thoughts.

A light, “You all are dismissed.”

The cool night air wrapped around Suguru Geto as he strolled into the courtyard, his boots crunching softly against the gravel path. The faint strains of the ballroom's orchestra followed him, muffled now by the grand walls of the manor. A slow, self-satisfied smile crept across his lips as he glanced up at the stars. The night felt ripe with possibility, though it was the scene he had just left that truly amused him.

He exhaled, letting the crisp air settle over him, before taking another measured step toward the fountain at the courtyard’s center. His fingers grazed the cool stone edge, the chill a welcome change from the warmth of the crowded ballroom. He savored the silence, only for it to be broken by the familiar sound of approaching footsteps.

“Geto,” a voice called out, casual but clipped.

Suguru turned slowly, almost lazily, as though he hadn’t already recognized the speaker. Gojo Satoru emerged from the shadows of the colonnade, his silver hair glowing faintly in the moonlight. He moved with his usual languid ease, though his sharp blue gaze belied his carefree demeanor.

“Well, well,” Suguru greeted, his tone light but edged with something sharp. “You’re out here. Don’t tell me you’ve finally tired of the fawning crowds?”

Gojo came to a stop a few paces away, crossing his arms as he leaned against one of the marble columns. “Needed some air. The room’s packed with too many people pretending to like each other.” His gaze flicked to Suguru, scrutinizing. “And you? Slipping out to avoid trouble, or cause it?”

Suguru chuckled, swirling the wine in his glass before taking a slow sip. “Oh, you wound me, Satoru. Can’t a man enjoy a moment of peace without being accused of scheming?”

“You?” Gojo raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Not a chance. So, what’s your angle this time?”

Suguru let the question hang, savoring the quiet tension between them. He set his glass down on the fountain’s edge, turning to fully face Gojo. His smirk widened as he finally spoke. “No angle. Just admiring the company tonight. Speaking of which…” He paused for dramatic effect, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from his sleeve. “Miss Itadori made quite the entrance.”

Gojo’s expression didn’t change immediately, but Suguru saw the faint flicker of something—irritation, maybe, or something more carefully hidden. Gojo’s mouth twitched into a scoff, though the sound was faint, almost perfunctory.

“What about her?” Gojo asked, his tone deliberately disinterested, but Suguru noted how his fingers flexed briefly before he shoved his hands into his pockets.

Suguru hummed thoughtfully, his gaze drifting toward the sky as if considering his next words carefully. “She looked… radiant tonight. Stunning, really. I can’t imagine half the room wasn’t staring. Though, I must say, some seemed more surprised than others.” His eyes darted back to Gojo, watching for a reaction.

Gojo rolled his eyes, though there was a tightness in his jaw that Suguru didn’t miss. “She’s just another debutante. Why would I care what she’s wearing?”

“Why indeed?” Suguru replied, his voice deceptively mild. He stepped closer, leaning against the fountain with an easy grace. “But it does make one wonder—what kind of man would care? Surely someone with a sharp eye for detail. Someone with… let’s say, a bustful interest.”

Gojo stiffened slightly, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. “You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” Suguru tilted his head, studying Gojo with an intensity that bordered on playful. “Because I could swear you seemed a little distracted back there. And not by the Queen, mind you. Why did you leave as soon as the Itadoris were announced?”

“Drop it, Geto.” Gojo’s voice was sharper now, but there was an edge of unease beneath the command.

Suguru’s smirk deepened as he tried to fight the urge to snicker at his friend, but he let the moment linger, letting Gojo stew in his discomfort. He picked up his wine glass again, swirling the liquid idly before taking another slow sip. Finally, he straightened, his tone turning lighter, though no less pointed.

“Well, whatever it is—or isn’t—you’d better sort it out soon.” He started to walk past Gojo, his footsteps deliberately slow. Just as he passed, he paused, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Because if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re in danger of losing your famously cool head.”

Gojo didn’t respond immediately, but Suguru didn’t need him to. The slight narrowing of his eyes, the subtle clench of his jaw—those were all the confirmation he needed for his plan.

Suguru chuckled softly, a sound more amused than mocking, and continued on his way, his voice drifting back over his shoulder. “Enjoy the rest of the night, Satoru. Something tells me it’s going to be… illuminating.”

Left alone, Gojo exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he glared at the retreating figure. “Bastard,” he muttered under his breath, though his voice lacked fervor. Still, Suguru’s words lingered, circling his mind like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch. He turned his gaze back toward the ballroom, his thoughts uncomfortably crowded with images of a certain young lady and the maddening smirk of a man who always seemed to know too much.

It appears that you and Duke Nanami have much in common, for you are able to hold a most pleasant conversation with him.

The din of the ballroom fades to a dull murmur as you stand near the refreshment table, your gaze politely fixed on the Duke. His presence is commanding yet unassuming—a rare quality that draws you in. Dressed in a deep navy coat that matches the intensity of his solemn eyes, he inclines his head slightly as he speaks, the weight of his words tempered by the gentleness in his tone.

The arrangement is perfect. You have successfully caught your target, much to the chagrin of ladies. After all, it was not all days that Duke Nanami took interest in a lady. You would have to credit Choso; he had researched that HIs Grace did not like overbearing mamas accompanying their girls—a most rational opinion. Posing fiery opinions without the presence of anyone except yourself, it seemed that you had hit the mark.

“I find, Miss Itadori,” he says, his voice smooth yet deliberate, “that many in our circles underestimate the joy of simple pursuits. They mistake extravagance for fulfillment.” He takes a measured sip from his glass, his gloved fingers resting lightly on its stem.

You nod, a genuine smile forming on your lips. “I could not agree more, Your Grace. There is a certain comfort in the unadorned pleasures of life. A good book, a quiet morning—these seem to me the most worthwhile indulgences.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up in what might pass as a rare smile. “Indeed. Though I daresay, quiet mornings are hard to come by when the season is in full swing.”

You let out a soft laugh, the sound almost swallowed by the music that swells across the room. “Quite so. I suppose we are all too busy chasing the next waltz or whispering about the latest Whistledown missive.”

At the mention of Whistledown, the Duke raises a brow, his expression a mixture of amusement and intrigue. “Ah, yes. Our ever-watchful chronicler. One wonders if she, too, finds time for quiet mornings.”

“I imagine she must,” you reply. “After all, how else would she craft such keen observations? A mind as sharp as hers surely requires moments of reflection.”

“Reflection, yes,” he murmurs, his gaze drifting briefly to the chandelier above, as if lost in thought. Then, returning his attention to you, he asks, “And what of you, Miss Itadori? Amidst the bustle, do you find moments to reflect?”

The question catches you off guard—not because it is intrusive, but because it is sincere. Few have ever asked you such things. You hesitate, then answer truthfully. “I try, Your Grace. Though I must admit, the season has left little room for it. It seems my every step is watched, my every word weighed. I sometimes wonder if I have forgotten how to simply be.”

His expression softens, and for a moment, you feel as though he truly sees you—not as the diamond of the season, not as the subject of idle gossip, but as a person. “That is a heavy burden to bear,” he says quietly. “Perhaps it is time you allowed yourself a reprieve. Even diamonds require care, lest they lose their brilliance.”

The words settle over you like a balm, and you find yourself holding his gaze longer than propriety might dictate. There is no judgment in his eyes, only understanding. It is both comforting and disarming. Before you can respond, a burst of laughter from a nearby group breaks the spell. You glance away, suddenly aware of your surroundings once more. “You are kind to say so, Your Grace,” you murmur, your voice steadier than you feel.

“I merely speak the truth, Miss Itadori,” he replies, bowing his head slightly.

A pause lingers between you, not uncomfortable but weighty with unspoken thoughts. Finally, he clears his throat, his tone lighter as he says, “Would you care to take a turn about the room? I find the air here grows rather stifling.”

You smile, grateful for the excuse to move. “I would like that very much.”

As he offers his arm, you place your hand lightly upon it, allowing him to guide you into the throng. The music swells once more, and though the room is as noisy and crowded as ever, the world feels a little quieter with Duke Nanami by your side. You can see it—early mornings with Nanami, enjoying gentle banter as he returned your thoughts without any ire, without snark or judgment. Quiet respect and gentle affection filling your days. A life free of chaos, where your worries dissipate into the steady calm of his demeanor. Perhaps this could be happiness. A steady, uncomplicated happiness.

But then you see him.

You abhor your traitorous heart for lurching ever so slightly at the sight of Gojo. He is standing near the edge of the ballroom, the golden light catching on his shock of silver hair as though it had been crafted to draw attention. His smile—always so bright, so effortless—makes the lady beside him laugh. She looks at him with a sultry, yet detached and amused expression, her fan flicking lazily as if to dismiss her own growing interest.

Your chest tightens. You know this scene well. It is one you have observed too many times, and yet you have never been able to steel yourself against the sting it brings. The way he leans ever so slightly toward the lady, as though she were the only person in the room. The way his laughter echoes, a sound full of mirth and mischief, as if he had no weight upon his shoulders.

You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. You tell yourself he doesn’t matter.

But then, as though he feels the weight of your gaze, Gojo turns his head. Your pulse quickens as his eyes widen, the usual lazy charm momentarily replaced by something sharper, something you can’t quite place.

First, his gaze lands on your face, his eyes sweeping over it with a quickness that feels like a jolt to your chest. Then, they drop lower, and you feel the heat of his scrutiny settle uncomfortably on your chest. A flicker of something crosses his expression—shock, perhaps, or something else entirely—but before you can decipher it, his gaze moves again, lower still, to where your hand rests upon the Duke’s arm.

It is subtle, the way his jaw tightens. The way his smile falters, only to return a moment later, forced and brittle. He shifts his weight, turning back toward the lady at his side, but not before you catch the way his fingers twitch at his side.

You force yourself to look away, to focus instead on Duke Nanami’s steady presence beside you. He has not noticed the exchange—or if he has, he is far too polite to show it.

And yet, the moment lingers. Gojo’s image burns in your mind like the fading glow of a candle, stubbornly refusing to extinguish. You loathe the way your heart betrays you, its treacherous rhythm quickened not by the Duke’s calm assurance, but by the mere sight of a man who has always been more trouble than he’s worth.

Nanami’s voice cuts through your tumultuous thoughts, soft and grounding. “You seem distracted, Miss Itadori,” he remarks, his gaze kind but curious.

You manage a small smile, tightening your grip on his arm as though it might anchor you. “Not at all, Your Grace. Perhaps just…overwhelmed by the crowd.”

He nods, accepting your answer without pressing further. “Understandable. These gatherings can be rather tiresome.”

“Yes,” you murmur, casting one last glance in Gojo’s direction before forcing your focus back to the Duke. “Tiresome indeed.”

But even as you walk beside Nanami, his presence a welcome reprieve from the chaos of the evening, you cannot help but feel the weight of Gojo’s lingering gaze, the memory of his startled expression etched into your thoughts like a brand. You cannot help but observe the situation. Tonight, you would be ending the night on Duke Nanami’s arm, and Gojo with another woman.

Is this not what you both wanted?

Today, it seems that the usual trio at White’s is only a duo. The blonde and raven head swirl their alcohol in their shimmering glasses while sharing a comfortable silence. That is, until one interrupts.

“How do we know we’re not simply toying with her?” The blonde man’s voice is steady but tinged with unease, his lips pressed into a thin line as he glances toward his companion. “It would not be honorable of me to pursue Miss Itadori under the pretense of riling Gojo, as you seem intent on doing—”

“Kento!” The raven-haired man—Lord Geto—throws his head back in laughter, the sound rich and unapologetically amused. He leans forward slightly, propping his elbow on the armrest, as his grin widens. “So confident in your lady-pleasing and romancing abilities, aren’t you?” Nanami’s frown deepens, but Geto merely waves him off, his laughter subsiding to a mischievous chuckle. “No, no—don’t worry. You misunderstand me. This isn’t about Miss Itadori falling for you, though,” he smirks, “I’m sure you’d manage well enough.” His tone is teasing, but his words lack any true malice.

“Then what is it about?” Nanami’s voice carries a note of exasperation, though he remains as composed as ever, swirling his drink in quiet contemplation.

Geto straightens, a glint of something sharper flashing in his dark eyes. “It’s about them. They’re idiots, Kento—idiots in love, the both of them. And it is our duty, as Satoru’s friends,” he pauses, meeting Nanami’s gaze with deliberate emphasis, “to help him realize what he truly desires.”

Nanami snorts, setting his glass down with a muted clink. “You just want to toy with them, to orchestrate the ton and its leading source of gossip.”

The corner of Geto’s mouth quirks upward in a sly smile, one that practically oozes self-satisfaction. “That, my dear friend,” he says, his voice low and conspiratorial, “I cannot deny.”

They lapse into silence once more, the kind that only years of friendship can create, as the firelight flickers and dances on the walls around them. Nanami tips his glass back, savoring the warmth of the whiskey as he contemplates Geto’s words—and the inevitable chaos that would follow in their wake.

prev. the house party | next. the lake

general masterlist | series masterlist

a/n HEYYY POOKIES IT'S HERE IT'S HERE WHAT DID WE THINK. also here is the bridgerton!gojo playlist if anyone is interested!!! i apologize it is 99% taylor swift but i will be adding more diverse songs

despite the miss itadori hate in recent times our girl is BOUNCING BACKK #mogged i cant wait for her to become even more of a diva in the next few chapterssss!!!! (not rn shes going through her sad girl era or wtvr)

suguru (left) and nanami (right) at this whole drama

also i hope none of you WHORESSSS simped for geto when we made eye contact with him (im looking at zaynesbathrobe anon and all those anons that are obsessed with bridgerton!geto). stay FOCUSED girls gays and theys

thank you for readinggggg. a hot new bombshell will be entering the villa in the next few chapters can we guess who he is??? hint he has huge tits and smelly balls

comment and reblog to let me know ur thots ;3

TAGLIST:

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@extremelyexh4usted @yoshisaurmuchakoopas @nixiepixee @generalstephkenobi @vernasce-blogs

@byhuenii @geniejunn @a-girl-with-thoughts @dazedin2d @chuuqxs

@megumiivs @anthastudios @arranacosmist @arishaxml @jingyuun

@undercooked-chaos-noodle @jaegersity @camzzn @bluelai @1sweetheart1

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@soobssedwithyourex @manyno @samkysnks @stefnarda @bbqsauceonmytitties2

[catsukkii]

Prohero!katsuki — with florist reader

IN WHICH… katsuki was Inlove with a girl at the flower shop, ever since his mom brought him when he was little. He was always a bully to her because he couldn’t process his emotions. Eventually, he went to UA Highschool and moved on to become a pro-hero, leaving them no time to talk and leaving on bad terms, katsuki comes home for the holidays and tries to fix things, but damn she got even prettier.

Pairing; Katsuki bakugo x Afab!reader (she/her.)

Content contains; fem!reader, fluff fluff fluffy, swearing, cheesy love stuff, mentions of katsuki being a dick when he was younger, I think that’s it (lmk if u notice anything else!)

Word count; 1.6k

A/N; WOWOWOWO I got carried away I’m so sorry nobody’s gonna read ts LMAOO

Prohero!katsuki whos smitten with the cute girl who owns a flower shop, his mom used to visit it all the time when he was young, always buying potted plants and pretty flowers to decorate around the house, he always thought the owners daughter was pretty but of course he was a little shit when he was younger and was mean to her.

Prohero!katsuki who knows he was a dick when he was younger, he’s still repairing old relationships since middle school like izuku, he wants to build a relationship with you, but he figured you were off doing something for yourself at this point.

Prohero!katsuki who visits his mom back at home for the holidays, getting to spend time with family. His mom was decorating the house and wanted some pretty red poinsettias for the holiday spirit, of course she would have to visit her favorite florist shop.

“katsuki! do you remember that old florist shop we used to go to when you were just a small thing?” she speaks while putting some garland up, katsuki putting up some christmas collectibles on the shelfs, he froze once he heard this but quickly shook it off.

“yeah ma, I do. you’d drag me there all the damn time.” he rolls his eyes at the memory as she glared at him.

“you were so mean to that little girl! I remember having to yell at you so many times…” she tuts and shakes her head thinking back on the boys antics when he was younger, he has grown a lot and she’s seriously proud of him even if she doesn’t always say it.

“yeah…I know.” he grumbles out lowly, sighing to himself.

“yknow, her mother got to old to run the shop so she’s took over,” katsuki paused his movements at this, gears immediately turning in his head. “I want some red poinsettias, like we always got for the holidays. Why don’t you go get them so you can apologize to the poor girl? she runs the shop all herself now, and she asks about you sometimes.”

she explains finishing up the garland she was wrapping around various things. You asked about him? why? surely it couldn’t of been anything good, you were probably praying on his downfall and with good reason unfortunately.

Prohero!katsuki who immediately takes her up on her offer, she always knew katsuki was smitten with the girl, so it was a little bit of a scheme on her part. He drives over, his luxury car looking silly among your little mint green beetle car in the parking lot.

Prohero!katsuki who sits in his car for atleast 10 minutes contemplating what the fuck he would even say to you. he eventually gets the courage and strides in, seeing you sit with a bored expression twirling a pen in your hand. You got even prettier over the years, he can feel his face flush but he quickly shakes it off. He’s merely here because he was mean to you and wanted to rekindle a friendship, not some cheesy love story.

Prohero!katsuki who walks up to the counter with a gruff expression, crossing his arms and mumbling “red poinsettias…” you look up at him with confusion, barely understanding him.

“excuse me? sorry I couldn’t he—“ your jaw dropped at the sight, fucking katsuki bakugo was here after all these years..and jeez was he hot. He grew to a good 6’ at least and Jesus was he STRONG.

“…katsuki?” You question with a gasp, immediately turning your slouch into sitting straight up.

Prohero!katsuki who clears his throat and speaks up, “yeah…hey y/n.” he sheepishly looked around and scratched the back of his neck, he didn’t know if he could handle looking into your pretty eyes anymore.

Prohero!katsuki who cant help the smirk that crawls onto his face once you smile brightly up at him.

“omg katsuki! It’s been years— holy shit you’ve grown so much!?” you blurt out various realizations and stand up from behind your register, walking out from behind the counter with your hands on your hips, ready to catch up for the time missed.

Prohero!katsuki who is slightly overwhelmed by your greeting, grateful? yes. confused? also yes. how could you not hate him after he was a total dick? then again you truly were the sweetest girl no matter what. You never snapped back at katsuki when you were young, only crying.

Prohero!katsuki who gets a smug look when you talk about how strong and tall he’s gotten. “you’ve grown alot aswell.” he smiles down at you, before averting his gaze to look at his shoes and avoid eye contact at all costs.

“I can’t believe you’re a hero now! I only got to hear about you through your mom, I’ve been to busy trying to keep the shop from closing I haven’t had time for anything else.”

he frowned at this, it must be alot for a young girl like you to handle all by yourself.

“We barely have business and your moms probably the only reason the store hasn’t been closed yet…”

his frown grew evidently wider, you barely have business anymore? you guys had the best shop! that’s why his mother loved it so much! It was cheap, the quality was beautiful, and the service was excellent! how could you be falling out of business?

Prohero!katsuki who wears a look of pity for you for the first time in years. he sighs before looking at you and speaking,

“that sucks, I think you’re the best shop, sorry these extras can’t see that.”

it caught you off guard to hear him so sympathetic, you can’t help but let out a giggle at the irony of his drastic change over the years. you push his shoulder lightly,

“look at you being all nice and sympathetic! the katsuki I last saw would rather die then feel bad for me!” you smiled up at him brightly.

“yeah about that…” he trails off with a sigh. “I kind of came to apologize. I was dumb as a kid and…just a dick for my own personal reasons, but it’s not an excuse when you were nothing but nice to me. I’ve grown a lot and I’m still fixing relationships from back then so uhh..I’m sorry.” he finishes his speech and it makes you frown at his heartfelt words.

“awww…katsuki!” You rush over to him and wrap your arms around him tightly, he stiffens at first but eases into it and loosely wraps his arm around you with a breathy laugh.

“yeah yeah…you were always an emotional shit.” despite his sass he has a wide grin on his face, you pull away from the hug and roll your eyes, a few seconds of silence goes by before it hits you.

“the poinsettias!” you facepalm and rush around the store to where the pretty red flowers were potted, you grabbed the pot and brought it back to the counter where katsuki was waiting.

Prohero!katsuki who watches you intently as you work, “so do you want them potted or just the flower?” you ask simply. “I don’t know what the fuckin’ hag wants.” he replies with a scoff as if you asked him the most preposterous question.

“katsuki! be nice! she’s a wonderful lady..” he rolls his eyes at you and grunts. “I’ll just give you some of both, on the house seriously.” he scowls at you and shakes his head.

Prohero!katsuki “none a’ that shit.” you laugh at his antics, grabbing a knife to cut the stems. “seriously katsuki, we never get business. I’m probably gonna have to put all of these in our already very crowded garden if they don’t sell anyway.” you explain continuing your work on the flowers.

Prohero!katsuki who ponders for a moment before ultimately speaking up and deciding, “alright give me 10. I’ll double the price.” before you can even try to argue he’s pulling out his wallet, causing your jaw to drop and you quickly spin around to fully meet his gaze.

“nono! katsuki seriously it’s fine! I don’t wanna do that especially after all your moms done for the store.”

he gives you the meanest glare he can muster and just continues to ignore you and pull out money, you sigh but are grateful nonetheless. You grab some more of the flowers from their section, equally dividing it to be 5 bouquets and 5 pots. you made quick small talk as you worked catching up on eachothers lifes, he couldn’t help but blush just at your mere presence, not that you were any better off, you couldn’t look at him without your eyes drifting to his muscular body. you hand him the pretty flowers and offer to help load them into his car, he only accepts to talk to you longer if we’re being honest.

Prohero!katsuki who just doesn’t wanna say goodbye yet. “hey uh..I know ma wouldn’t mind if you went for dinner with us, if you don’t got plans that is.” he mumbles and glances around overwhelmed with nerves at your possible rejection.

Prohero!katsuki who lights up when you excitedly scream, “oh my gosh yes! thank you that’s so sweet..” and offers you a ride there, promising to bring you back after dinner so you can get your car and drive home.

Prohero!katsuki who is already smitten with the cute florist girl once again, and gets relentlessly teased by his mother when he walks through the door with her.

Prohero!katsuki who seriously hopes a sweet girl like you will welcome him back into your life, he’ll even help promote your shop if you let him. he just wants the cute florist girl to be just as down bad as he is.

a/n; guys pls this is cute (I think.) give it a chance…

[cregansdingdong]

ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘʟᴇꜱꜱ.

Cregan Stark x fem!reader | no use of y/n | warnings: NSFW, p-in-v penetration, outdoor sex(does a tent still count as outdoor?), swearing, Cregan has a breeding kink, semi-public?, slight brat taming, classic doggy style, ass slapping, f!receiving oral, Cregan’s gonna eat her out from the back which is truly the highlight here; so. this has been festering in my drafts for well over two months. Good luck. poison ivy by hemi moore

Hot stuff under the cut. 18+ only. I'm not responsible for the content you choose to consume. ty.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

“Are you going to explain yourself or do I have to ask why you’re speaking to me that way in front of my men?”

“In what way?” She murmurs, snappily adjusting the furs beneath her, staring above at the roof of their tent. Cregan watched in partial disbelief—and partial irritation—at the sight of his wife going to bed despite their disagreement. It wasn’t often that they argued, and especially not on account of her publicly disrespecting him. The Hunt was meant to celebrate the unity of the North, among other things, and yet she’d been cold to him most of the late afternoon and early evening. They were meant to be setting an example. He couldn’t understand what he’d done to agitate her in the first place. “I’m not going to play this game with you.” Cregan huffs, setting down his cloak on the back of a chair. “Why have you been so cross with me today of all days?”

“I haven’t.” She counters smartly, tone filled with an attitude he wanted nothing more than to fuck out of her. “You’re being childish.” He grunts right back, earning a glare from his cross little wife. If he hadn’t been so ticked off, he might’ve actually laughed at the way her eyes narrowed in his direction—like a pup about to pounce. “I’m not a child.” She snaps, turning to adjust her pillow as he removes his boots. He snorts at that. “You’re behaving like one. Now are you going to resume your wifely duties and speak to me or must I tuck you in and read you a story?” He could’ve done without the mocking, but both their tempers had risen by that point, overspilling and soaking their marriage bed like a tempest.

She ignored him completely, reaching to blow out the candle at her bedside, rolling over to face the wall of the tent, linens and furs pulled up to her chin. As much as he was irritated with her refusal to communicate, he wasn’t going to sulk until she decided to give him the mercy of her words. Cregan continued to undress down to his small clothes, joining her under the covers despite their mutual fuming. It was an agreement they’d reached at the beginning of their marriage: angry or not, their bed was shared. Non-negotiable. He was especially thankful for that condition now—the ground did not look very comfortable if she’d decided to banish him like a hound. He faced her back, arm thrown haphazardly over her middle. Admittedly, he needed to feel her there to get a proper night’s rest. She allowed it.

The tension had seeped into their tent, clearly choosing to remain even with the terms of bedtime they’d set in place. She was still angry, he was still puzzled. Even with her back against him, Cregan could still sense her irritation. It hung in the air like a dark cloud, refusing to disperse. He’d never thought being married would sometimes feel like a storm in his own home. But the Wolf of the North was not a man to back down from a challenge. And it was becoming clear to him that his wife wouldn’t talk unless he spoke first. So he does. "You can’t keep behaving this way,” He starts, his voice gravelly but low. There's about a minute of tense silence between them before her attitude-filled reply breaks the quiet of their tent. “And why not?”

A frustrated sigh leaves his lips as he shifts in the bed, arm still loosely wrapped around her waist. “Firstly you’re my wife. Secondly, the hunt was meant to celebrate the North. And thirdly…” His voice trails off, his jaw clenching. He’d already said too much for his liking. Cregan was never one to give too much away, and giving an explanation for his emotions had never been a strength of his. But with her…there was a part that he couldn’t help but be honest with her. She wouldn't judge him even on his worst days. “Because I don’t like it when you’re angry with me.” His words were heavy with sincerity, which only irritated him more. The Wolf of the North was not supposed to feel so exposed to his little dragon wife’s moods.

For a moment, he thinks he's gotten through to his stubborn wife. "...we can discuss it tomorrow. I want to sleep." She grumbles into the dark. “You want to ignore it tomorrow, you mean,” He retorts, arm still refusing to remove itself from her waist despite the rejection. Cregan lets the argument drop for now, however. But only because he can tell for himself that she's not going to give way to his stubborn badgering that night. He grunts in annoyance, shifting so that his chin rests on her shoulder. “Unbelievable.” He mutters to himself. Angry or not, though, they were going to cuddle. It’s the smell of her hair that pulls him into a steady rest, his chest pressing against her back, his arm still slung over her middle like a claim. For some reason, even in his sleep, he still needs to feel her near him; a possession of the body and mind. The two of them adjust a little, the usual marital squirming in order to get comfortable. Peace even in the chaos of their argument.

On the other hand, his wife could not find sleep even if she had a map. With him snoring lightly behind her—something that always put her to sleep—both irritation and guilt chewed away at her reserve, leaving her restless. It persists. An hour passes, then two, and still, Lady Stark was wide awake, bothered and guilty. The snoring continues through the night, the Northern Lord blissfully unaware of her warring emotions. But even unconscious, he could sense the battle for sleep. The Wolf of the North stirred beside her, his arm now fully thrown over her torso, hand resting against her ribs. Cregan was in no way a light sleeper, but as her frustration grew, he seemed to be silently disturbed from his sleep. His eyes flutter open with a tired hum, his chin buried in the warmth of his wife still. He’s quiet for a few long moments before mumbling in a groggy voice, thick and raspy. “You’re still awake.”

“I can't sleep.” She mutters. It's clear that the heat of their argument had ceased to a smolder in the while she had reflected into the dark. "Probably because I'm still upset." She sighs. "And I'm a little cold...and..” As she speaks, his initial tiredness starts to clear. “And?” He prompts, shifting again to lift his head in the slightest.  His hand rubs against her stomach, trying to share any semblance of his warmth with her. “...I feel…worked up. I'm annoyed but…roused.” It's laced with a begrudging admittance and Cregan opens his eyes in disbelief, suddenly more awake at her mumbled words. A rush of heat rolls through his body, his heart skipping a beat. It always does. The thought alone never failed to stop him in his tracks. His hand stills against her stomach for a moment, considering how to respond. “Well, my love, it sounds like you've had enough of keeping your anger a secret. You can tell me no matter what. Even if it's childish and silly. I'm your husband.”

"You didn't eat breakfast with me this morning." She blurts, finally revealing what had made her so irritated all day. "You gave me a kiss and then you just ran off to eat with Torrhen Manderly. Didn't even invite me.” He pauses in his caresses, a low hum leaving his chest. “That’s what caused your little temper tantrum?” He murmurs, tone still somewhat drowsy but now a bit exasperated. Affectionately, of course. He can’t fight the small smile that’s formed on his lips. A temper tantrum over him eating with the second son of the Lord of White Harbor and not inviting his sweet wife. It was such a small thing, but for some reason, it makes his chest feel tight. “I didn’t think you’d be interested in a morning meeting with House Manderly,” he mumbles in response, pulling her closer, his hand once again tracing patterns across her waist.

"I'm not, but I'm interested in sitting with you.”

The corners of his mouth twitch even more at that. A quiet huff of a chuckle leaves his lips, and he moves his chin to rest on her shoulder, warm breath lightly fanning on her jaw. “So I’m to invite you to every little meeting I have now?” He murmurs, teasing and still somehow half-drowsy. There's a very light dusting of indignation in her tone as she answers. "...not all of them, I'd be bored to death." She huffs. "But today was about unity. I didn't feel very unified with you.” He grumbles under his breath in mild disagreement. The Hunt wasn’t all about unity, it was about celebration. Of the North and of the Starks. Unity amongst the Northmen was an important facet of the feast, but it was not the entire point. But he didn’t want to argue about that, especially not when she was still so irritable with him. “You should’ve just come by and sat yourself down then. Torrhen would've liked your company, and of course I had no problems with having my beautiful wife beside me.”

"And intrude? That's embarrassing." He could hear her pout from a mile out, at least. Cregan’s chest vibrates against her back with a low laugh. “And throwing a little fit all day isn’t embarrassing?” He muses, nipping at her shoulder. "...it's more dignified than begging.” She grumbles. One of his hands suddenly moves from her stomach and up to her jaw. In almost an instant, his wife was putty in his grasp once more. He turns her head, pressing a kiss against the corner of her mouth, his tongue suddenly swiping over the skin—almost like he needed a taste of her. A low, gravelly murmur leaves his chest. “There’s no part of you that has to beg for my attention. But I’m not sure it’s dignified to pout all day over me having a morning meeting, my sweet Lady Wife.”

Before she could say something smart in return, Cregan dips his face into her neck, unable to stop himself from taking a greedy bite. She makes a small noise from the back of her throat—a mewl that sends the sleep far, far away from his thoughts. He smiles against her skin when he feels her tilt her head for more. “Sensitive little thing, aren’t you?” He teases, taking advantage of her movement to press another open-mouthed kiss against her neck. “Pouting all day for my attention, and here you are, melting at it now.” In the quiet of the tent, he can hear the low, shaky exhale release past her lips. “I'm sorry…for being impolite to you with your men present.”

“An apology?” His voice holds his amusement, and he continues his trail of kisses up her neck, until his lips are hovering right next to her ear. “Now that is a new one. I’m sure some snow from beyond the Wall will start falling within the hour if you’re apologizing to me. Not something you make a habit of doing, my sweet wife.” He felt her smile just a little, and he mentally counted down for whatever joke she was about to tell him. “At this rate, I'm sure Winter is fleeing.” His nose brushes up against the skin behind her ear, and he lets out a barely stifled laugh. “That’s blasphemous to say in the North…but funny.” He pushes himself up on his forearms above her, looking down, eyes suddenly filled with barely contained heat—as was his usual disposition. "Still annoyed and roused?”

"Not annoyed. Just worked up." She murmurs, tracing the outline of his shoulders in the dark. He hums in acknowledgment, stomach warming at her confirmation. “You want me to tire you out? Make up for this morning?” His voice is still thick and gravelly, a testament of his deep sleep and the hunger that now had him captivated. Her response came out in a quiet ‘mmhm’, reaching for him through the dark. In one swift movement, Cregan flips her onto her stomach, chuckling at the noise of surprise she releases. Furs and linens thrown back, his hands glide over the skin of her thighs, gently raising the hem of her delicate shift. It was a slow, deliberate action, and he didn’t need to see her face to know how much she was anticipating his touch. As her nightgown rose over the curve of her ass, he could feel the goosebumps forming beneath his palms. “Arse up, face down.”

She shivered at the command. Simple, yet drowning her in want. How could she ever deny her Wolf of the North? With a near-silent grunt of effort, she raises herself on her knees, lowering her upper-half down onto the pillows. The hem of her shift pools at her mid back, exposing herself to her husband just the way he loved it. “Perfect.” He murmurs, his hands gripping the flesh of her ass like he couldn’t wait to take a bite out of her. “Look at you. Fighting me all day, and yet here you are. All but begging for me to unspool you. I should make you beg, but you’re quite lucky I don’t have the patience, wife.” Just as she thinks she’s going to feel his hot tongue, a hand comes barreling down on her rear, a loud, searing spank that was probably heard from the next tent over. Her gasp was barely stifled into the pillow.

His tongue dipped slowly between her folds, a measured pace that nearly made her lose her breath. He always knew how she wanted it. Back and forth, savoring her like her juicy cunt was his last meal in the living world. With every languid stroke forward, the tip of his tongue nudged her twitching pearl in a toe-curling rhythm. Her noises only urged him on further. He slurped up her slick like a man starved, wordlessly encouraging her movements as she rocked back against his tongue. Eyes shut, face contorted in bliss, he could only picture what she looked like in his mind’s eye. He was too preoccupied with his meal to bother to light any candles. Not that he needed them, anyway. He knew her body as if they shared a soul. His wife was unable to piece together a single word, reduced to a puddle of whines and squirms.

“All day.” He reiterates. “Talking back to me. I accept your apology, but that does not mean you’re entirely free of the consequences, pup.” And then, another. Harder than the last, and most certainly stinging. Another. Another. He was merciful enough to distribute his spanks evenly, and with every bloom of hot pain, she felt herself grow more and more eager for a release. “Please–” She mewled, on the verge of patheticism. A sixth sear spreads over her left asscheek. The rest of her plea remains locked in her throat. “I’ve had enough of your pretty mouth speaking against me.” He murmurs into the dark, hands massaging the hot skin with an air of tenderness. “Understand?” Head spinning with lust, she can barely form a coherent word. “..Y-yes.” That seemed to moderately satisfy him, and Cregan finally leaned his face down, spreading her for his pleasure.

“I’ll never tire of your sweet taste.” He rumbled against her, fingers digging into the supple flesh of her ass like he was afraid she’d run off. Not that she ever would, but the feeling of her in his hands was grounding—a reminder of who he was and where he was between every dive of his tongue. He was drowning in the tang of her. Every lap of his tongue drove her an inch closer to her peak. “Cregan—Cregan, I can’t.” She cried, on the verge of desperation. If he’d had her sitting on his face instead, it would’ve been much easier to keep her from wiggling, but she couldn’t help herself not to writhe against his mouth and nose. And frankly, he was too hungry to separate himself from her for even a moment in order to change position. No. Not even a snippet of patience. He needed her to release.

“Yes, you can.” Cregan grunts against her soaked cunt, although it was less than coherent—something about the idea of getting caught made him eager to please. With all the pretty noises she was making for him, he couldn’t bring himself to attempt to quiet her. Not that it mattered. He doubted anyone would dare interrupt the Lord Paramount of the North and his Lady wife. And yet, someone walking by? Hearing the private way she cried out for her husband? Thrilling in every sense of the word. The thought alone made his blood pump, and his teeth lightly nip at her sweet pearl. More like a graze, really, but her reaction seemed otherwise. She squeals into her pillow, a throaty, rabid sound that nearly makes him peak. She was coming. And he had the absolute pleasure of lapping up all her delicious juices right from the source.

He couldn't make himself wait any longer after that. Cregan pawed at his small clothes until he was entirely bare behind her, feeling his beautiful wife tremble as he aligned his twitching cock. There was no other sensation in the living world that mattered to him more than the way her walls stretched to accommodate his size. Absolute perfection. Nothing but bliss. A noise of pleasure rumbled from his throat as he sunk into her soaked cunt. Inch by murderous inch, the Wolf of the North felt his sense of reality fade into the background. Much like an animal focused on dragging their kill home, Cregan was fixated on drowning himself inside her to the hilt. No matter how many times he'd experienced that exact sensation, he would never tire of his perfect Lady wife. Not even if she'd throw a tantrum every day for the duration of their marriage—so long as he got to kiss her goodmorning and fuck her goodnight.

“There we go…” He grunts, laying himself over her back as he eased his tip deep inside. Pulling out and back again was a torturous, toe-curling feeling, but the little mewls she whined into the pillows made it worth every teasing drag of his hips. “This is how it should be.” Cregan pants, his nose pressed against the back of her neck. “You, enjoying your fulfilled cravings, and me, balls-deep inside my woman. I hate fighting with you—but I love fucking that attitude right out.” Her thighs trembled as he rutted into her ass, an incessant, fervent type of rhythm that only came out when she truly frustrated him. And she certainly had; all day long, in fact. But his vixen of a wife couldn't bring herself to regret a thing. She knew what she was going to do in the next Great Hunt.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

[latenightreadingpdf]

Spencer's Secret - Spencer Reid

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ⋆˖⁺‧₊

Summary: All Spencer wanted was to finish his paperwork and go home, but now he’s in a bar, drunk, and confessing all his secrets to Derek.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The team had barely settled back into the office after a grueling case when Derek threw an arm over Emily’s shoulder, talking about needing a drink. Emily agreed with a weary smile, and soon enough, JJ, Penelope, and Rossi had chimed in, all eager to unwind together. Somehow, they’d even managed to convince Hotch, who gave them a reluctant nod, his rare smile hinting he could use a break too.

All that was left was Spencer. Sitting at his desk, he was hunched over, diligently finishing up his paperwork, when Derek strolled over and leaned in with his usual, "Hey, pretty boy."

Spencer looked up, already anticipating the question. "No, Derek, I’m not going."

Derek raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "I didn’t even get to ask!"

"Doesn’t matter. I’m not going," Spencer replied firmly, looking back down at his files.

"Come on, kid," Derek urged, his voice dropping to a softer, pleading tone. "Just this once. If you come, I’ll never ask again. I swear."

Spencer let out a sigh, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up with him. There was a beat of silence as he mulled it over, glancing at the hopeful faces of his teammates nearby. Finally, he closed his file, resigned. "Fine," he muttered, “but just this once."

Derek’s face broke into a grin, practically bouncing on his feet. "You heard him, guys—he’s in! Let’s go before he changes his mind."

Spencer reluctantly stood up, pulling on his coat with a sigh. He glanced around, noticing the others already gathering their things, excitement buzzing among them. As they all filed out together, Penelope slung an arm around Spencer, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

"Oh, Spence, you’ll have fun. Trust me," she said, winking.

Spencer managed a small, hesitant smile, wondering just what he was getting himself into. It wasn’t exactly his ideal night out, but surrounded by his friends, he couldn’t help but feel a faint sense of anticipation growing despite himself.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

As soon as the team settled into the bar, the weight of the last case started to fade. They ordered the first round, eager to drink, laugh, and let loose for a few hours. The drinks flowed freely, and soon they were deep in conversation, sharing old stories and laughing harder with each passing round. Spencer, who rarely drank, was feeling more than a little tipsy. Nights like these weren’t really his scene—he usually found it far more comfortable to stay home. But now, with the warm buzz in his head and his friends around, he was actually enjoying himself.

Meanwhile, Derek had been off flirting at the bar, but eventually made his way back to the booth, where Spencer was the last one still sitting. Derek, who could hold his liquor well, was only slightly buzzed. He noticed Spencer's dazed expression and grinned, sliding into the seat next to him. "Pretty boy," he said, nudging him, "there are so many gorgeous women here tonight. You should go try and have some fun, maybe even get a date."

Spencer, a little too drunk to filter his thoughts, shook his head. "Don’t need a date," he said, his words slurring slightly.

Derek raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Oh yeah? And why’s that?"

Spencer’s face softened, and he blurted, “I’ve got an amazing girlfriend at home.”

"Right, sure," Derek teased, not at all convinced. "So what’s her name?"

Spencer’s face lit up. "Y/N," he said, his voice full of adoration. He leaned in, eyes dreamy, and started rambling. “She’s incredible, Derek. So smart, so beautiful. She’s way out of my league—I still can’t believe she’s with me.”

Derek chuckled, noticing just how drunk Spencer was. It was getting late, and he knew Spencer would never make it home on his own. “Why don’t you call Y/N to pick you up, then?” he said, jokingly.

Spencer’s face brightened, and he fumbled for his phone. Derek watched in amusement as he dialed, still skeptical, until he heard a faint “Hello?” from the other end.

Spencer’s face lit up even more. “Hello, my love,” he said, voice thick with affection.

You let out a soft laugh on the other side of the line. “Hey, Spence! Everything alright?”

Spencer grinned, completely forgetting why he’d called. “Yeah,” he said dreamily. “I just…wanted to hear your pretty voice.”

You laughed, clearly touched. Derek, now genuinely surprised that someone had actually answered, took the phone from Spencer, holding it up to his ear. "Hello?" he asked, still a bit skeptical.

"Uh, hi,” you replied, a little confused. “Who is this?"

Derek cleared his throat. “This is Derek. Spencer friend.”

“Oh! Nice to finally meet you, Derek, Spencer talks about you and the team quite a bit.” you said, sounding amused. “I’m Y/N, his girlfriend.”

Derek muttered, “Holy shit, you’re real.”

"Sorry?" you asked, sounding puzzled.

“Nothing, nothing,” he chuckled. “Listen, Spencer’s had a bit too much to drink. Are you able to pick him up?”

You let out a soft, understanding laugh. “Yeah, of course. Just tell me where you guys are.”

Derek gave you the address and hung up, handing the phone back to Spencer. "Your girlfriend’s coming to get you," he said, still slightly in awe that Spencer’s been hiding a girlfriend from them.

Spencer’s eyes lit up even more. “Y/N?” he asked eagerly.

“Yeah, pretty boy, Y/N,” Derek replied, shaking his head with a grin.

Spencer slumped back in his seat with a satisfied sigh. “Finally,” he mumbled. “Someone cool to hang out with.”

Derek just laughed, patting Spencer on the shoulder. He sat down with Spencer and waited with him for Y/N to get there, eager to meet her.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

As Spencer was still happily rambling to Derek about his incredible girlfriend, the door opened, and a beautiful woman stepped into the bar. Spencer’s eyes widened instantly. "Y/N!" he exclaimed, jumping up so quickly he nearly tripped. He stumbled over to you, practically throwing himself into your arms, clinging to you like he’d just found his lifeline. He buried his face in your neck, a contented sigh escaping him.

You wrapped your arms around him, laughing softly at his drunken enthusiasm. "Looks like someone had a good time," you teased, rubbing his back.

“Missed you so much,” he mumbled into your neck, his words muffled but unmistakably fond.

Looking up, you noticed a man standing a few steps behind Spencer, observing the two of you with an amused grin. "You must be Derek," you said, offering him a warm smile.

Derek smiled back, giving a nod. "Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you tonight."

Before you could respond, Spencer had already started tugging you gently toward the exit. You glanced back at Derek and gave him a quick smile. "Hopefully we can actually talk sometime soon," you said, laughing as Spencer clung to your arm.

Derek chuckled, nodding. "I’d like that. Take care of him. Goodnight, Y/N."

He watched as you guided a tipsy, lovesick Spencer out of the bar, a soft smile still on his face. Just then, Penelope popped up beside him, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. “What are you staring at?” she asked, following his gaze to the exit.

“Spencer’s got a girlfriend,” Derek said, unable to keep a little laugh from escaping as he recalled the whole scene.

Penelope’s eyes went wide, and she gasped, practically bouncing in place. "Wait, what?! Our Spencer? Oh my God, I need details!"

Derek smirked, shaking his head. "Calm down, babygirl. You can interrogate him tomorrow," he teased.

Penelope pouted, but the excitement was already building. After a second, she sighed dramatically, then brightened up again and grabbed Derek’s hand. “Fine! But right now, you’re dancing with me.”

Derek let her pull him to the dance floor, chuckling as he made a mental note to tease Spencer about this night for a long time.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

[dxxdhood]

drains me slowly

pairing: wade wilson x gn!reader

summary: deadpool finally invites you, the coworker he has a massive crush on, over, which means the two of you end up doing more than just watching a movie.

tags: smut (18+), sub!wade wilson, dom!reader, pain kink, use of superpowers to fuel a pain kink, light masochism, teasing, gentle dom, hand job, scratching, body worship

wc: 3.3k

a/n: fic inspired by the new deadpool movie coming out!!! also, title is from love me dead by ludo.

No surprise that Wade wasn’t exactly anyone’s favorite– that goes for among the heroes he’s worked with and throughout his life in general. He’s – to put it in the kindest way anyone’s ever told him – fucking annoying. Oh, he’s more than aware that he’s a little too out-of-pocket, abrasive, impulsive– a nightmare to interact with, really. And those were just the recent comments made by the closest thing he has to coworkers! The shit he heard from people growing up was leagues worse. 

Look, having a rough start in life isn’t uncommon and he’s sure as hell not gonna get the tiny violin out for himself and throw his own little pity party, but he’s grown enough since his healing factor got beat out of him to acknowledge that he’s had it tough over the years.

He’s still going, though! Yeah, he may not always be the best at doing his laundry quick enough to get any clean clothes to wear, or at stopping his room from becoming cluttered with too many half-empty water bottles, but he’s still making it by, day by day.

But, well, it’s still really hard to constantly put himself out there, get assigned – or infinitely more likely, just shove himself into – whatever jobs or missions he feels like taking on when everyone treats him like Jar Jar Binks.

That was until you came along. So, obviously you’re crazy hot – he’s gotta get that out of the way first – but more than that, you were confident. Competent, too, and those rarely coincide in Wade’s experience. You mostly worked on call, joining the occasional mission, battle, or investigation because your mutant powers came in handy often, but you also still kept up with your day job. Honestly, Wade thinks the reason why you weren’t always present in fights was to stop the other mutants from being out of a job. Your ability to slowly deteriorate surrounding biological tissue, while horrifying and a pain in the ass to control – your words – was basically winning on easy mode.

But no, you were adamant about keeping your involvement with the X-Men infrequent– only joining when your presence was absolutely necessary. Apparently nonstop high stress situations aren't good for your mental health– who knew?

And he wants to pretend he became obsessed with you because of all those things, and of course they helped, but really, you had him at hello. Or well, you bothering to say hello and actually talk to him in the first place, to ask him questions about his life in moments of downtime where usually he’d be left with an unenthusiastic audience instead of a warm-hearted listener who actually laughed at his jokes.

So, of course, he has to go and fuck it up.

…

“So, glad that’s over, huh?” Wade says through a smile, the whites of his mask squeezing as his cheeks rise. “Speaking of over, you wanna come?”

“Over?” you shake your head a little, flashing your teeth as you try and comprehend him. “Right after we took on a whole crime ring?”

“Well, what a better time to unwind, am I right?”

“Oh?” you raise your eyebrows. “We’re unwinding?”

It’s small, but you swear Wade ups his talking speed, “Well, yeah, you know. Watch a movie, order in, show you my Pokemon cards, the works.”

You hum, pretending to consider it, “Depends, you got a holo Charizard?”

And now, for sure, he exhales his relief. “You insult me.”

The two of you enter his apartment not long after you’re dismissed from the mission, and Wade briefly excuses himself to change out of his suit. Making yourself at home, you take a seat on the couch and glance across his living room. His apartment is surprisingly nice. The kitchen and living room are one large, open space with a sleek, modern design. Also, you’d assume someone as chaotic as Wade would keep their house in a messier state, or hell, at least a little dusty, but the living room is spotless. Maybe he cleaned recently? What, was he planning on inviting someone over?

Snorting as you shake your head, a small click from across the hall catches your attention.

You’ve only seen Wade on the job, so naturally he’s always been wearing his red suit, but for some reason, you never stopped to picture him wearing civilian clothes. Actually, now that you’re seeing him in a sweatshirt and sweatpants – awfully warm for this weather – you’re struggling to reconcile the image of him you had in your head with the person right in front of you.

Well, at least until Wade brings up a fist to cover his mouth, illustrating his nervousness, and the tension fizzles out. Only Wade has body language that cartoonishly exaggerated.

“Nice sweats, green looks good on you.”

Wade pauses for a moment, registering your words before he giggles softly, arm falling to his side, “I’ve been thinking about changing the color of my suit. You know, hiding all the blood is great and all, but sometimes I gotta wonder – could this thing be more flattering?”

He walks over with a spring in his step before sitting by your side. Cutely, he wraps you up in the larger blanket first before settling the smaller, throw blanket over himself. You try your hardest not to show your confusion outwardly, but seeing Wade up close now has you questioning his outfit all the more.

He’s a bit tall, so the sweatpants don’t go all the way down to his ankles, but Wade’s wearing calf socks, as if he specifically were trying to avoid them being uncovered. Also, his hoodie’s easily a size or two larger, which makes it the perfect thing to wear to lounge around and watch a movie in, but also, the sleeves cover his entire hand sans his fingers. From the little you can see of them, they look puckered in scars.

But obviously Wade’s hands are scarred– he’s a mercenary. He’s handled all sorts of weapons and been in hundreds of fights over the years. You weren’t expecting his skin to be baby-smooth. 

What’s interesting to you is why he’d go through all the trouble to hide it.

Also, yeah, the most obvious pointers were that the hood of his sweatshirt is up even though you two are indoors in his own home and – how could you forget this one – his Deadpool mask is still on.

Was he just uncomfortable with sharing his identity in general or was he specifically trying to shove distance between the two of you? Whatever, if he doesn’t want to take his mask off with you, he doesn’t have to. You feel a distinct pang in your chest, but you try not to let it color how you respond to him. He’s more than in the right to only share what he feels most comfortable with.

Wade’s been fiddling with the remote while you’ve been – hopefully – subtly looking him over, and the screen finally changes from a streaming service page to the opening of the movie.

“We’re watching The Princess Bride? I didn’t take you for a romantic.”

He bats his eyes – at least, you think he does, given the mask– and speaks in a sweet voice “Why, me? Oh please, I know romance. I’m not going to invite a lovely, gorgeous, incredible person over and force them to watch Die Hard on the first–”

His back straightens out like he’s been electrocuted before he forcibly relaxes his posture to finish his thought.

“Hang-out.”

Okay, you want to go easy on him, especially because he seems so tense, but you can’t just let that one slide. You close the small distance remaining between the two of you, causing your entire side to press against his. Even through his sweatshirt, you can feel how warm he is.

“Mmm, just a hang out?” you mumble, sliding your head onto his shoulder. You’ve done this before, either for comedic effect or just in an attempt to push his buttons the same way he always tries to push yours – which, despite his best efforts, always ends up endearing him to you instead of bothering you – but never in a context like this.

He inhales sharply, and you count the seconds until he finally lets himself release it. Sometimes, you think he takes his healing factor for granted.

Turning his head to peer down at you, Wade considers you for a moment, keeping his face and body language deceptively neutral. You try your hardest to keep your eyes focused on the movie and your body loose and comfortable.

“You want this to be a date?” he says, flat.

“Why, thank you for asking, dear sir,” you copy his sweet voice from earlier before returning to your normal. “Yes, Wade, I like you.”

“I–” he starts, but the words get caught on their way out. His fingers bury themselves in the material of his sweatpants, and the movement draws your attention to them again. Shades of blotchy red and pink curve all across his skin.

Wade doesn’t say anything, which is concerning enough on its own, but following your confession, you feel like he’s more than out of his element. 

“That’s why you invited me over, right?” you try and help him out. “You feel the same, too.”

And then, feeling bold, you turn your head to face his still mask-covered head and kiss him lightly on the cheek. Instantly, you see fireworks go off inside him, because Wade hurriedly shuts the TV off and runs off to close the blinds. There’s barely enough light in the room now to make out shapes, but apparently Wade doesn’t take any issue because he peels his mask back and kisses you on the lips.

His lips are textured, and your intuition flashes quietly in the back of your mind, but for right now, you focus on how energetic he is. If his body is warm, his mouth feels like it’s on fire. He’s constantly moving, trying to experience all of you as fast as possible. 

It’s making your face heat up, how quickly he demands your complete attention and how relentless he is in grabbing it. Wade bites your bottom lip, causing you to gasp into him, and he uses the opportunity to explore across your own teeth and tongue. After a few more seconds, you break away, needing the space to breathe.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, voice rough.

“You’re telling me,” Wade coughs out. “We could’ve been doing that this whole time?”

“Well, all you had to do was ask.”

And although you can’t see him, which you know is the point, you understand something in him has shifted. He gets up from the couch, takes you by the hand, and leads you towards his room. His pace is so quick, you barely comprehend his actions until you’re both standing right in front of his bed.

“Is this okay?” he asks, quiet. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him stifle the amount of words he let loose before.

“Yes, of course it is. But Wade, we have to turn on at least a lamp or something in here.”

“We do?”

“Yeah,” you pause to give him a second to think. “I can’t see you at all like this.”

“What if – and you're just going to have to trust me on this one – you’d prefer it this way,” Wade’s voice is light, but it feels like it’s cracking at the edges.

“And why’s that?”

Not like you’d be able to see, but the anxiety radiating off of him makes him sound wide-eyed, “Huh? Oh, I– uh…”

“Look, if you’re worried about how I’m going to react to you having a bunch of scars– don’t. I don’t mind,” the sound of fabric rustling in front of you makes you think he just flinched. “I figured it out. You’re not sneaky.”

“You say that, but…”

“Wade, I don’t care. And I mean that kindly! Really, it doesn’t bother me.”

Wade starts pacing in front of you, nearly tripping on the leg of the bedpost, “Look, I appreciate the whole hero act you got going on here – really fits you good, you should totally quit your day job – but you don’t have to force yourself, I–”

“Wade, you either confront your insecurities head on or I’m not doing this with you. I told you what I think, the only person who’s going to worry about how you look here is you. We either have sex with a light on or not at all, okay?”

No one speaks for a few seconds once you finish saying your piece, and you cringe, realizing how forceful you must have come off. You’re about to speak up again to apologize when you hear a shudder-filled exhale from a few feet away.

“Jesus H. Christ,” he groans. “You’re so hot when you're putting people in their place.”

Your lips curl into a shaky smile, “Yeah, what else do you think is hot?”

And you can practically hear the gears turning in his head from here.

…

It’s actually happening. No fucking way he didn’t dream this up. But you were pretty adamant about him getting his head in the game in order for you guys to actually get down and dirty, so for you, he tries to keep his train of thought as focused as possible–  a big ask.

“Bossing anyone – everyone, especially me – around. You using your abilities–” you reach over and find Wade’s hand before running your fingers up his arm. “Shit, umm, using your abilities in general, but, umm, I really like when I’m there.”

“Oh?” you giggle. “When you get to watch, or?”

“When I get to feel.”

Your hand moves over to the nape of his neck, reaching under his hood and mask, to rub at his rough skin. Wade’s nerves light on fire as he waits for you to respond– for some reason, it never feels like your words come out fast enough.

“You got a thing for pain, Wilson?”

He chuckles, “You’d be surprised.”

“Okay, but are you sure? I can try, but it might not be all that good for you.”

“Don’t worry,” he thinks back to all those times he had a hard on while the two of you were fighting together. “It’ll be great for me.”

You hum, “Alright, then, but you tell me to stop the second you don’t like something, okay?”

“Aye, aye, captain,” he salutes, though you probably can’t see it. “And, same goes for you.”

“What a gentleman, letting me destroy him and giving me an out.”

He’s blushing something furious and he’s never been more grateful for the dark, “Anything for you.”

Those are the last words he whispers before he begins undressing. He knows you probably meant for him to strip with the light on, but he’s really not so sure he could stomach being looked at like a bug under a microscope. The attention, while electrifying, was already starting to get to him, so he lets himself stay in his comfort zone a little longer. As a treat. 

Once his sweats are off, he hesitantly peels off his mask before slipping into bed, keeping most of his body under the covers. After shutting his eyes, he clicks the lamplight on.

You’re not saying anything. That’s– a sign? A good one, a bad one, Wade doesn’t know. He’s trying so hard to keep his breathing steady, but he can feel his body start shaking all on its own.

You join him on the bed, kneeling next to him, before your warm breath falls across his cheeks as you kiss his forehead. Only then does he open his eyes, and you reward him by cupping his cheek in your hand.

“There,” you say. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Wade gets the strong urge to snort, and so he does, but your eyes narrow. There’s a soft scratching at the back of his skull as you snake your hand over, and quickly you dig your nails in slightly. Wade has to bite his tongue to keep the noise in.

“I’m sorry, is that funny to you?”

“No!” he whispers sharply as you bring your hand down to scratch along the line of his neck.

“Good, seems like you’re learning.”

You kiss him, teeth clacking together at first before Wade melts into it. Your hand is still slowly exploring his body, running along the line of his shoulder and towards his upper arm. When you reach his bicep, you very obviously squeeze the muscle there, and you let out a pleased sigh as you begin groping in earnest.

He wants to turn to hide his face in the pillow, not sure how to react to all the positive attention and appreciation, but you catch him trying to turn away, and you kiss him deeper.

While one hand begins to explore his pecs and abs, your other hand scratches down his v-line, softly caressing the skin of his inner thighs before moving around to squeeze his ass.

Wade rewards you with a small whine, and you carefully trail a finger down his dick. You move in to whisper in his ear, “You’re so hot, I’m not forgiving you for hiding for so long.”

Trying to stifle the embarrassing moan that he knows will come out, he bites down on his lip hard, but you take the hand not teasing his cock to gently pry his lip away.

“From now on, I get to hear you, okay?” you say and Wade nods rapidly.

You take the moment you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, and after giving him a second to ready himself, you ask, “I’m going to use it now. Tell me if you want to stop.”

“Okay–” he responds before he feels the sweet sensation of you jerking him off coupled with your power. It’s a humming, dull feeling of pain resting in the background– almost like the sensation of being choked except it’s affecting his entire body. Wade feels like there’s a weight pinning down each of his limbs and it’s so freeing– so relaxing.

He sighs and turns his head to the side, letting out a deep moan when you up the pace of your hand and bring the other to fondle his balls.

“How is it?” you ask, sweat dripping down your brow at trying to control your ability. Sure, it’s  powerful and at times pretty horrifying, but Wade always loved how he was essentially immune. At the same rate you could destroy the flesh around you, he could heal his own right back. Just knowing that made him feel good, somehow, like he was made perfectly for you.

“It’s good– so good, I–” he nearly shouts, forgetting about the neighbors.

“Yeah, baby? What do you need?”

At hearing the pet name, he straight up whines as he tries to bury his hands in the sheets instead of his own thighs. 

“Not sure, umm, a little more–”

And he doesn’t know which god he has to thank for putting you on this planet, but he’s willing to pay them all a visit. You read him like he’s not some mess, some walking disaster nobody bothers paying attention to, and you give him what you know he needs.

From the base of his chin, you drag your hand in a deep scratch across his neck, chest, and stomach, your eyes watching the pink lines blend in with his scarred skin. It’s a flashing pain, sharp like being scalded and it feels so good mixed with the blunt feel of being under your power.

“I’m gonna–” he says, and of course, you seem to already know. He cums with a deep grunt, rutting his hips into your fist before he thrusts his head forward to kiss you again.

As soon as he comes down, he pulls away only slightly, just so he can say what he’s been wanting to say since he met you.

“Thank–”

You cut him off with another kiss, because sometimes, he really does need to shut up. 

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole for getting my best friend killed?

I swear to God, it was an accident.

My (27) BF (34) has a reputation for getting himself out of any jam you can imagine; and at first it was just a fun little thing the friend group noticed: there goes Oily J wiggling his way out of trouble again. but as the meme evolved in the group, it got to the point where we'd loykey started getting him into situations just to see how he'd get out of 'em, and he akept getting out of em. He was having fun with it too same as us. "Oh you guys," he'd say, "getting me into situations again," before laughing it off and getting out of it, so it was enrichment for our shared enclosures, and as time went on, the situations got more intense.

The trouble is, it turns out that putting a man in too many situations eventually gets the police interested. And not local hobsknockers cops either; they was like, proper three-letter FEDs. They put out a bounty on any information pertaining to his capture and everything. It was good money too so I thought, hey why don't I put J in another situation he can wiggle out of like always (and he'd wiggled outta worse before, so I thought this one'd be relatively mild), and at the next boardgame night (cause it was too late to do anything special for this one) we can buy some extra strong booze and get absolutely blitzed while having a giggle about the situation.

Boardgame night, and we were playing some social deduction nonsense or another and he says: "One of you is gonna betray me tonight." and I can't help but think, looking back on it, that he knew. It's stupid, I know he was talking about the game, but the way he said it, it was like he knew. We all felt it, and we had a big round robin round the table taking turns promising that we'd never betray him. And I said it so easily cause I thought it was true. Sure, I was gonna talk to the feds about a bounty; but, I fully expected my big beautiful oily boy to wiggle his way out of the trouble I was 'bout to cause, and that's not a betrayal. I wasn't lying. I didn't think I was lying.

My big beautiful oily boy didn't manage to wiggle his way out of it. They killed him and I got my blood money. He's gone.

He's gone and I'm devastated, crying, mourning. I loved him so much. We all did. And I can't stop thinking that it's my fault: that I'm the reason he's gone. and it is. and the guilt is eating me up inside. and I just need to talk to someone about it. So, I tell the rest of the group what happened in the group chat, hoping they'd understand that I didn't want this. I didn't want the government's blood money. It was supposed the be a prank. some joint enclosure enrichment. He was supposed to wiggle out of it like he always does... did, i mean.

They call me, among worse things, the asshole and kick me from the group chat. And, I know it's my fault he's dead: I know that. If I didn't do what I did, he wouldn't be dead right now. But, I didn't mean it for it to end up this way. He was supposed to be okay, damn it. I loved him. AITA?

What are these acronyms?