#he tried to open up and connect but they are so used to the mask he wears they can't not see it on him even if he's not wearing it

[southtopaz]

PSYCHO KILLER - SCREAM [FINAL]

Summary: in which Iris Morris has to navigate her personal relationships while surviving a psycho.

Warnings: Fem!reader, angst, violence, swearing, death, stabbing, mention of blood, Tara Carpenter x Fem reader, multiple parts.

Word count: +8k

A/n: this part will follow the events of Scream 6 but it will take place two years later from Scream 5. English is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammatical mistake. Thank you to everyone that read this story, I hope you all liked it as much as I did ❣️

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20.

"Tara!" Iris screamed, her heart racing as panic surged through her. She bolted toward her, but Ghostface was quicker. With a swift motion, he swung a knife toward Iris, the blade glinting ominously in the dim light of the room.

Iris barely managed to dodge, her instincts kicking in as adrenaline flooded her veins. She could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears, drowning out everything else. Tara lay stunned on the ground, fear etched across her face, and the other girl knew she had to act fast to protect them both.

Iris slammed him against one of the walls with all her strength, the force of the impact causing the glass that covered it to shatter into a thousand glinting pieces. As he staggered back, disoriented by the blow, he recovered quickly and lunged toward her once more, his movements blazing with fury as he tried to stab her once again. But Iris was quicker this time. With a swift, calculated move, she sidestepped his attack and managed to shove him again, forcing Ghostface to the ground as she kicked him in the stomach.

"Tara! We have to move!" Iris urged, glancing over her shoulder. She reached down and pulled Tara up by the arm, her heart racing as the urgency and fear pressed heavily on her. With Tara stumbling to her feet, Iris turned and dashed to the door, flinging it open. She was relieved to see Sam and Chad waiting, their expressions laced with desperation.

"Let's go!" Chad shouted. Without a second thought, the group sprang into action, their feet pounding against the floor as they began to run.

"It's Kirby! She's the killer!" Sam exclaimed as they hurried down the dimly lit corridor toward the main hall of the theater.

"No shit!" Chad replied sarcastically. He cast a frantic glance toward the exit, his mind racing with ideas, but his hopes were dashed when Sam shook her head.

"It's locked," she said, her voice filled with frustation.

"Are we trapped?" Chad gasped, panic creeping into his tone.

"Yeah, she made this whole theater into a kill box," Sam continued, her breath coming in quick bursts. "For us."

"Hey, what about that?" Tara interrupted, her eyes darting upwards as she pointed at a small exit door in the second floor. She was still leaning on Iris for support. "Maybe it leads to the roof or something?"

Iris squinted at the opening, weighing their options. "There's only one way to find out," she said, already starting to move. "Let's go!"

"Bailey's on the way, but—" Sam started, her voice laced with anxiety, knowing they didn't have much time.

Sam barely had a moment to finish her thoughts when, without warning, Ghostface lunged out from behind the stage. The masked figure charged at them with a menacing intensity, and in an instant, he shoved Tara roughly to the ground, slicing her shoulder painfully. Tara gasped, the shock of the fall knocking the breath out of her.

"Get down!" Sam shouted, but before she could react further, Ghostface turned his attention to her. He pushed Sam hard, and she tumbled to the floor, her knife slipping from her grasp and skidding across the wooden surface.

In a blur, Ghostface swung his knife toward Iris, the blade tore through her clothing, narrowly missing her skin. Adrenaline surged through Iris as she instinctively lunged forward, her fist connecting with Ghostface's head in a desperate attempt to defend herself.

Just then, Chad spotted a video camera sitting on one of the nearby tables. Without thinking, he grabbed it. He rushed toward Ghostface and, with all his strength, brought the camera crashing down onto the masked figure's head.

"Smile for the camera, motherfucker!" Chad muttered angrily. Ghostface collapsed to the ground, motionless for a moment.

They all bolted down the hallway, urgency propelling them forward. Chad clutched the camera tightly in his grip, as he ran behind them. They could feel Ghostface's footsteps behind them as he charged after them.

The hallway was so narrow that they barely fit side by side, their shoulders brushing against the walls as they pushed forward. In a moment of desperation, Chad turned around and hurled the camera at Ghostface, hoping to hit him with it. But the masked figure was quick; he ducked just in time, the camera whizzing past him and crashing against the wall with a dull thud.

"Keep moving!" Iris shouted, urging the group onward as they could hear Ghostface's footsteps growing louder behind them, his knife poised menacingly in front of him.

Thinking quickly, Iris spotted the popcorn machine and, without hesitation, shoved it over. The machine toppled to the ground with a loud crash, glass scattering everywhere and popcorn spilling out. The mess created a momentary barrier, but it did little to slow down Ghostface.

Fueled by anger, he charged directly at Chad. With a forceful shove, he pushed Chad against the wall, the impact sending a shiver down his spine. Just as he was about to deliver a blow, both Tara and Sam sprang into action, each grabbing one of his arms and pulling him backward with all their strength. Their quick thinking gave Iris the opening she needed.

She stepped forward, summoning all her strength, and landed a solid punch to Ghostface's stomach. He doubled over, but Iris wasn't finished. In a swift motion, she delivered another blow, this time targeting his private parts. The killer groaned in agony, crumpling to the floor.

Without missing a beat, Tara rushed in and kicked him squarely in the head, her fury propelling her forward.

"Tara, come on!" Sam exclaimed, grabbing her arm firmly to pull her away. The urgency in her voice was clear as she glanced back at the unmoving figure. Tara, still fueled by fury , reached out and grabbed Iris's hand as well, drawing them both toward the door.

"Go, go!" Chad shouted, clutching a mini popcorn machine, ready to slam it in Ghostface's head. Just as he swung it, another Ghostface suddenly appeared and stabbed him in the side, making him scream in agony.

Iris spun around at the sound of Chad's shout, panic rising as she screamed his name. She tried to rush toward him, but Sam gripped her shoulder tightly, forcing her back.

Both Ghostfaces were stabbing Chad making the man fall to his knees as blood started pouring out of his mouth.

"Run," He said weakly. "Go."

Chad's body fell to the ground as the two of them turned to face Sam, Tara, and Iris wiping the blood off of their blades at the same time.

They turned and sprinted towards the main hall, but their escape was cut short. The two Ghostfaces loomed ominously on either side of the room, blocking any chance of escaping. Panic surged through them as they realized they were cornered.

"We have to fight!" Sam muttered to them, scanning the ground for anything they could use. Spotting a pile of bricks, she quickly snatched up two and handed one to them before grabbing one for herself. The three women formed a tight circle, their backs pressed together, a united front against the threat.

"Sam!" Tara cried, fear evident in her voice.

"Are you ready?" Sam asked, her tone fierce but steady. "I need you guys to be ready"

Iris clenched her jaw, her expression hardening. "This is for Chad" she growled, glaring at the masked figures.

"Look at me," Iris said, turning to Tara. "Are you ready?"

Tara nodded, her eyes darting toward the nearest Ghostface. "Come on Motherfucker!" she shouted.

But before any of them could make a move to attack, a loud gunshot echoed through the room. They all dropped to the floor, hearts racing as they scanned the place trying to find out where it came from.

"It's okay!" Kirby shouted, emerging from the shadows with her gun raised. Blood trickled down the side of her face, staining part of her shirt too.

"Stay the fuck back!" Sam snapped, positioning herself protectively in front of Iris and Tara.

"We know it's you, Kirby!" Tara yelled, distrust evident in her voice.

"How could you do this? I trusted you!" Iris shouted, her voice trembling with betrayal. This was the same woman with who she bonded over her sister.

"Listen, one of them knocked me out," Kirby pleaded, her eyes wide with desperation.

"And you expect us to believe that?" Iris shot back, her anger boiling.

"Iris, you have to trust me! I would never hurt you. I just want to help!" Kirby insisted, her voice cracking.

"Kirby, stop!" Wayne shouted, rushing onto the scene, his presence adding to the tension. "Get away from the girls!"

The blonde woman aimed her gun at him, her hands shaking. "What are you doing?!"

"Did you kill Quinn?" Wayne's voice was a mix of accusation and fear, his hand trembling as he held a gun. "Did you kill my daughter?"

"You're crazy!" Kirby exclaimed, horror etched on her face. "Whatever he's been telling you, don't listen! He's probably the killer!"

Wayne's gaze was fixed on her, his eyes showing a weird emptiness. Just then, one of the Ghostfaces slipped silently behind him.

"Behind you!" Kirby shouted, her voice piercing through the fear.

The man didn't even flinch at Kirby's word, almost like he knew exactly what was going to happen. Before any of them had a chance to react, he placed his finger on the trigger and fired the gun, sending two gunshots in Kirby's direction.

"Kirby!" Iris shouted in horror, her voice trembling as she lunged forward to chase after the woman. But just as she took a step, a shadow loomed over her; one of the Ghostface figures raised a knife threateningly, forcing her to stumble back, heart racing with fear.

Tara, sensing Iris's panic, quickly wrapped her arm around her shoulder, yanking her backwards towards their group for safety. "Dont move!" she urged.

A tiny smirk crept onto Wayne's face, his eyes glinting with cruelty as the other Ghostface emerged from the shadows behind him, brandishing his weapon like a trophy.

"Great job," Bailey praised, nodding with approval as he lowered his gun, only to have everyone gasp in surprise when another Ghostface appeared right beside him, a grin plastered across his face. "Both of you,".

"You?" Tara exclaimed, her voice a mixture of disbelief and fury as she stared at Wayne, struggling to process the betrayal.

"Yeah, of course me," Wayne replied with a feigned seriousness, shrugging his shoulders as he met her gaze with a simmering intensity. "Honestly, I expected more from the three of you after what you did to us." His tone was laced with a bitterness that hung in the air.

"We didn't do shit to you," Iris answered angrily. "We don't even know you, you piece of shit"

One of the Ghostfaces standing beside Bailey reached up for the top of his mask, fingers trembling slightly with anticipation as he slowly peeled it away from his face. When the mask finally came off, it was Ethan, his expression bright and triumphant, looking like it was the best day of his life.

"I fucking knew it. Of course it was you," Iris muttered, her voice barely audible, disbelief washing over her like a cold wave.

"You almost ruined it for me, Iris," Ethan snarled, his grip tightening around the weapon he held, the knife appearing more threatening than ever. "But it turns out it was so easy to lie to all of you. I lied so many times and none of you discovered me." His tone was dripping with mockery, a smirk dancing on his lips as he reveled in his own actions.

"Well, you certainly didn't lie about being a virgin, did you?"

Ethan's eyes flashed with fury, and he turned to her, ready to lash out at the woman. But just as he tried to walk towards her, Bailey stepped in, grabbing him by the cloak and yanking him back with surprising force. "Calm down" Bailey urged.

Ethan let out a deep, exasperated sigh, visibly frustrated, but he chose to ignore Iris. With a bright smile creeping back onto his face, he resumed speaking, clearly enjoying the spotlight. "You know, Mindy was right; it was easy to juke the roommate lottery. I mean, all I had to do to meet you guys was room with a conceited, condescending alpha, literally named Chad. Fuck, it felt good to kill him."

"I'm going to fucking kill you" Iris started walking towards him before both Sam and Tara harshly grabbed her by the arms pulling her towards them while Sam pinched her in the arm.

"You need to hold it, we will have time to end them" Sam whispered to her as they let the young boy talk.

Ethan held up the Ghostface mask he had been wearing, the fabric slightly tattered but still scary. "This was your grandmother's Sam, Nancy Loomis," he declared, his voice dripping with disdain as he scowled at her. "Really runs in the fucking family, doesn't it?"

"Speaking of family," he continued without missing a beat, a wicked smile spreading across his face as he pointed to himself. "My name's not Ethan Landry, is it, Dad?" His gaze flicked toward Bailey, a triumphant glint in his eyes. Bailey erupted into maniacal laughter, ruffling Ethan's hair affectionately as if they were sharing an inside joke.

"Dad?" Tara asked, confusion etched on her features as she tried to make sense of this twisted family reunion.

"Wait, if it's you two, that just leaves..." Sam finally found her voice again, dread creeping into her mind as she realized not a lot of options stood for the third Ghostaface. She really hoped it wasn't the name she was about to say. "Mindy?"

At that moment, the next Ghostface stepped forward, pulling down her hood with excitement. She removed her mask and shook her head a few times. "Hey, roomies!" Quinn greeted proudly, a mocking smile spreading across her lips. "Didn't see that one coming, did you?"

"Yeah, because you died!" Tara exclaimed, disbelief and anger swirling in her narrowed eyes. The shock of Quinn's reappearance struck her like a punch to the gut.

"I kind of didn't," Quinn replied dryly, tucking the mask under her arm with a casual nonchalance that felt jarringly out of place. She glanced over at the others, her expression unrecognizable to the girls that shared an apartment with her "Though it was a pretty good way to get off the suspect list. Stabbed Gale Weathers, stabbed Mindy on the train, it was a pity I wasn't the one to stab Anika but hey you can't have everything"

Iris's jaw clenched, her fingers dug down into the brick she was holding and she was about a few seconds away from launching it over at the girl's head. "We mourned you, fuck I even cried for your death".

"Truly a pity Iris" Quinn whispered, tilting her head to the side as she looked over at the girl. "You and I could've had a lot of fun if you weren't so keen on being Tara's bitch". Quinn gave the brunette a teasing smile, twirling the knife around her index finger.

"Don't fucking talk to her" Tara growled.

"Uhh feisty, I like it" Quinn said mockingly.

"I just had to make sure I was the first one on the scene," Wayne explained after a few tense seconds of silence. "That way, I could switch her body out with a fresh one. A little fake blood, a prosthetic here and there. You'd be amazed at what a grieving father can get away with." His voice dripped with a mix of pride and arrogance, as if he were sharing a clever trick rather than a heinous act.

Quinn's eyes sparkled with excitement. "I got Stu Macher's mask," she chimed in, a grin spreading across her face. "He was my favorite."

Ethan carefully placed the mask he had been wearing onto a nearby mannequin dressed in white clothing. "That's number three," Bailey said, holding up three fingers as he moved slowly down the narrow aisle towards the girls, his demeanor both casual and predatory. He glanced over at his daughter, who placed her mask on the mannequin across from Ethan's. "That's two," he added, a sense of satisfaction in his voice.

"Which leaves..." Bailey reached inside his jacket, pulling out another mask "Your father's," Wayne extended the mask towards Sam, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling expectation. "This is what we've been counting down to, Sam," he said, his voice low and insistent. "I'm going to need you to put it on."

"Fuck you!" Sam shouted, her voice echoing through the room as she smacked the mask away with the brick in her hand, sending it clattering to the floor.

Ethan, unable to resist the chaos, lunged forward with an excited grin, slashing Sam's arm with the knife he held, his laughter ringing out. Sam hissed in pain as she took a look to the wound that started bleeding down her arm.

"Stay the fuck away from her!" Tara hissed, stepping protectively in front of Sam.

"What is this?" Sam asked, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion as she scanned the faces of the family, each one a mask of anger and betrayal. "You did this as a family?"

"Oh yeah bitch, you should know better than anyone," Quinn shot back, her voice laced with bitterness as she took a few hurried steps closer, her brother Ethan right beside her, smirking in a way that sent shivers down Sam's spine.

"They're still not getting it," Ethan chuckled.

"Well then start explaining," Iris growled, her voice low and threatening, the urgency palpable in her tone.

"I don't know what you believe, but I didn't commit those murders in Woodsboro!" Sam pleaded, desperation creeping into her voice. "It wasn't me!"

"We know that. Of course you didn't," Wayne interjected, speaking as if that were obvious. "You think this is based on some bullshit conspiracy theory? Come on. Who do you think started the rumors about you in the first place?"

Quinn raised her hand, a cruel smile playing on her lips. "Do you know how easy it was to turn Sam from the hero of Woodsboro into the villain? How easy it is to convince the world to believe the worst in people rather than the best?"

"Because it's not enough to just kill someone these days," Ethan said. "You have to assassinate their character first. So when Dad here discovers your horribly mutilated bodies.. posed with Sam wearing her father's mask, he'll say some poor dumb bastard read on the internet that you're the real Ghostface and took matters into their own deluded hands."

"Exactly, that's why it's the perfect alibi," Bailey said with a smirk, his laughter low and taunting as he locked eyes with Sam. "And all the best lies are based on the truth."

Sam spun around, her heart racing as Bailey leveled a finger at her. "You're a killer," he accused, his expression hardening into a grim line. "Just like your father."

"No, I'm not!"

"Yes, you are! You motherfucker! You killed our brother!" Quinn shouted, her voice cracking with rage and pain.

"What are you talking about?" Sam stammered, confusion etched across her face, her breath coming in shallow gasps as horror began to dawn on her.

"You said your brother died in a car accident," Tara pressed, her eyes flashing with confusion.

"No, no, no, you sweet dumb thing," Ethan interrupted, his voice laced with mockery as he pointed his knife toward them. "He died in Woodsboro, at the hands of your bitch sister".

A cold wave of realization washed over Sam. "You're Richie's family," she gasped, her heart sinking as she turned back to Bailey.

"Yeah," Bailey replied, a twisted smile creeping onto his lips as he thought of his oldest son.

Just as Sam was about to talk, Ethan lunged forward, thrusting his knife into her collarbone with a swift, brutal motion. "Ding, ding, ding!" he shouted with unsettling enthusiasm as he pulled the knife away, leaving behind a raw bloody mark on her skin. The pain shot through her, but before she could react, Iris yanked her backward, pulling her out of Ethan's reach.

"Now! It wasn't until I saw that photograph of what you'd actually done to him that I knew!" Wayne suddenly shouted, his voice ringing with fury, "That I knew you had to fucking die! You had to be punished! Along with anyone else who stands in our way."

Quinn stepped forward, gripping the knife tightly and pressing it menacingly against Sam's throat.

"There's the killer," Quinn whispered, her voice a chilling rasp as she studied Sam's expression. The girl remained still, her dark chocolate eyes showing no fear, only a growing coldness that seemed to mirror Quinn's own rage.

"Great parenting job, by the way" Tara interjected, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she cast a disdainful glance at Wayne.

"Shut your whore fucking mouth!" Quinn shrieked, her rage boiling over as she shoved Tara violently, sending her towards the floor. Iris reacted instantly, grabbing onto her shoulder to prevent her from crashing to the ground. With a firm grip, Iris pulled Tara close, turning her body to face Bailey, who stood watching the chaos unfold.

"Have I been a perfect dad? No," Wayne admitted, shaking his head as if acknowledging a painful truth. "Have I maybe overindulged Richie's love of these little movies? Yeah, maybe. For me, they're just a little dark. But, Richie really loved them. He loved them and even made a few of his own."

Suddenly, a video began to play on the screen, and a younger Richie appeared, his innocent face juxtaposed with the madness that lay ahead. Iris felt a surge of disgust; even as a child, Richie was already showing signs of being a psychopath.

Wayne turned away from the screen, his gaze drifting upward as tears filled his eyes. "There's a very special bond between a father and his first son," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Which is why I helped him build this collection."

"This was all his?" Sam muttered in disbelief, her mind racing to comprehend the situation.

"Yes, he is a very passionate collector, and he inspired others. We had to kill those two wannabe film students because, well, we had to kill you first, Sam. I put the theater in their name, then good old Detective Bailey would've just stumbled on it, but I didn't have to because, by golly, that Gale Weathers is one hell of a journalist. I built a tribute to my son. Which is why this is where you have to die, surrounded by all of the things he loved the most."

"What happens next?" Sam demanded. "After you're done with us, you just disappear?"

"No!" Wayne started stepping down from the stairs. "We got to hurry over to the hospital and make sure Mindy and Gale don't pull through. Because everybody dies, Sam! Everyone who had anything to do with the death of my son suffers and dies."

Ethan moved towards Tara eager to use his knife as the girl tightened her grip on her brick but Iris moved in front of her.

"Don't touch her" Iris shouted, her jaw tensing as she pulled Tara behind her.

Ethan moved even closer, now pressing just the tip of his blade against her chest as he rolled his eyes at Iris's comment "You have no idea how much I want to put this knife on you Iris, and once I'm finished with you, I'm going to do to Tara the same thing I did to Anika but this time I'll finish the job" Iris growled in fury but before she could lunge at him, he jumped forward and slashed Iris on her side, making her hiss in pain as blood started pouring out. "always the hero, aren't you?"

"Iris" Tara yelled moving towards her but stopped once she saw Iris making a stop sign to her.

"I've got a plan, they are angry" Iris whispered to Sam.

Suddenly, Iris burst into maniacal laughter, clutching her side as if the absurdity of the situation overwhelmed her. The three Ghostfaces exchanged bewildered glances, momentarily thrown off by her unpredictable reaction.

"So you're telling me you did all of this for Richie?" she taunted, her laughter escalating. "He was such a pussy; it was honestly embarrassing just to look at him!"

Tara watched in horror, her heart pounding as she observed the killer's anger growing with each passing moment. But that was the plan, to infuriate them enough that they'd slip up, making it easier for them to fight back. Sam seemed to grasp this strategy quickly.

"He was... so pathetic," Sam declared, her tone utterly flat, as if she were discussing something mundane and boring.

"That's not true!" Wayne protested, his voice rising in indignation, unable to accept her words.

"Yeah, your son, he was a man-baby who made his accomplice do all of the killing,"

"Isn't it embarrasing? He couldn't even do it himself, the one time he had to do the killing, he died like a fucking loser"

"He was a strong, virile young man!" Bailey's body shook with rage.

"He was a limp dick little fuck who cried before I slit his throat," Sam said coldy, as a tiny smirk spread across her face.

"Shut the fuck up!" Quinn charged forward without warning. Tara spun around, slamming the brick into the redhead's face. She collapsed into the floor, choking out a few bloody teeth from her mouth. Detective Bailey, clearly irritated, raised his gun, preparing to shot at the girls. But just then, gunshots rang out from the other end of the room.

Kirby, surprisingly still alive, fired at the three Ghostfaces. Tara and Sam quickly stepped back as Bailey fell to the ground, hit, while Ethan ducked to the side and charged at Kirby, tackling her down.

"Recognize this?" he grinned maniacally, showing the woman the same knife she had been stabbed with in 2011 by Charlie Walker as he stabbed her once again.

"Fuck you!" she spat through clenched teeth

Iris rushed forward, bringing her brick up and slammed it into Ethan's head, knocking the boy to the side. "Leave her alone you fucker" The boy stumbled to the wall, groaning in pain.

"I'm sorry I doubted you," Iris told Kirby, dropping to the woman's side. "But I'm gonna need to borrow this." She took the knife from her body, and Kirby let out a pained gasp. But her eyes showed nothing but understanding.

"Fuck him up." She told the girl, her voice ringing with determination. Iris nodded.

"What are you going to do with that bitch?" Ethan growled, leaning against a pillar as he clutched his head.

Iris shouted in anger and lunged at the boy, stabbing him right in the chest. She twisted the knife, digging even further into his skin. His eyes widened in shock as he let out a cry of pain. "You wanted to be like your big brother? Well now you get to die just like him too".

"Fuck you!" He shouted at her. "I'm going to fucking kill you, Iris!"

"You don't have what it takes". She pulled it out, only to stab him once again. "This is what happens when you threaten my girl, you fucking die."

"IRIS" Tara shouted at her to get her to move away from him. She made her move to leave but not before dragging the knife upwards, causing the boy to scream in agony.

"I'll come back for you, I promise!" She said to Kirby in apology as she passed the woman. Sam and Tara were climbing up the ladder, and Iris quickly followed them.

Iris spotted Tara climbing up the pipes. As the girl reached the top, she pushed aside the plastic sheeting that covered the first floor entrance and stepped onto the balcony, her heart racing. Tara turned around just in time to see Iris and Sam climbing up behind her, a wave of relief washing over her as she took in their presence.

Shortly after, Sam got into the first floor too and she lead the way across a row of empty seats that creaked underfoot. The dim light cast shadows around them as they navigated the abandoned floor. However, they soon encountered a section of the balcony they couldn't reach as it was blocked by a jumble of old furniture stacked high, creating an impassable barrier.

With no clear path ahead, they were forced to edge near the balcony's precipice. One misstep could send them plummeting down. Sam took the lead, her focus intense as she approached the edge. She carefully placed one foot on the inner railing and another on the outer one, her body tense with concentration as she maneuvered across the narrow ledge.

"Careful," Sam warned, her voice steady despite the danger, as she steadied her breathing before hopping off the railing.

Iris held onto the railing tightly, her heart pounding in her chest as she inched along the ledge. When she was close enough, Sam reached out, her grip firm and reassuring, helping Iris down with deliberate care. The adrenaline coursed through them as they exchanged glances, knowing they had to keep moving to stay safe. Now they turned around to help Tara.

A gunshot echoed through the building, and Tara let out a scream as she lost her balance and stumbled toward the edge. In a desperate move, she managed to grasp the railing for a brief moment, giving Iris just enough time to reach over and grasp Tara's hand tightly, preventing her from falling.

"I've got you," Iris panted, straining as she fought to pull Tara back to safety. She bit down on her bottom lip to stifle a groan, the pain from her open wound flaring sharply as blood trickled down her side.

Sam leaned over the edge, desperately placing her hands above Iris's to lend support, she refused to let her sister fall.

Blood smeared Sam's hands from the wound on her arm, making it increasingly difficult for Tara to maintain her grip as the slickness threatened to make her slip away.

"I can't. I can't hold on!" Tara cried, tears streaming down her face as she raised her left hand to grasp her sister's arms more firmly. But just as she did, her hand slipped, eliciting another desperate cry.

"We won't let you fall," Iris reassured her, panic tightening in her chest as she felt Tara's hand slip lower.

Bailey and Ethan's maniacal laughter could be heard from everywhere as they drew closer to Tara. Ethan clutched his chest in pain, Iris couldn't understand how he was still alive. He started swinging his knife mockingly as he taunted the shorter girl.

"I always wanted to stick something in you, Tara." Ethan screamed as he tried to stab her.

"Fuck you." Tara hissed.

"Fuck you." Ethan retorted as he jumped in an attempt to grab the girl.

Out of the corner of their eyes, Quinn showed up to their floor, her face covered in blood. Sam, Iris, and Tara all glanced at her silently.

"You guys are so fucked now!" Ethan screamed excitedly.

"Sam!" Tara shouted, her voice filled with desperation.

The two women looked down at her in horror as Quinn approached. "Let me go," Tara insisted.

"No!" Sam gasped, her eyes wide with fear.

"Are you crazy, Tara?" Iris shook her head, gripping Tara's hand tightly as her heart raced in her chest.

"Yeah, let her go, guys," Ethan urged, his voice dripping with mockery. "Come on!"

"Trust me," Tara pleaded, her gaze flickering to the knife tucked into Sam's pants, trying to convey her urgency. "You have to let me go."

Iris glanced at the knife tucked into Sam's pants and quickly understood Tara's plan, though she hesitated to let her go. Sensing her uncertainty, Tara locked eyes with the brunette, her expression pleading as she whispered, "Let me go baby."

Quinn advanced toward them, looking more unhinged than ever.

Sam passed her sister the knife and both of them let go of her at the same time, watching how Tara got stabbed by Ethan the minute she touched the ground. Iris let out a desperate shout as she turned around just in time to see Quinn running towards them.

She spotted a gun laying on the floor, she quickly grabbed it and aimed it at Quinn. Both Sam and Iris turned towards Tara to make sure she was okay.

Tara took the knife Sam gave to her and quickly plunged it into Ethan's mouth. She moved it down his throat as he choked on his own blood. Quinn looked down at her brother in horror, her hand trembling as she gripped the knife.

"Now die a fucking virgin." Tara said to Ethan darkly as she smirked.

"Looks like you're down another brother," Sam said innocently once Ethan stopped moving.

Quinn let out another scream and charged at her, but Iris was faster. She pulled the trigger, the bullet landing in her chest. Quinn hit the ground, shouting in pain. Sam and Iris moved towards her and stared the woman down.

Iris passed the gun to Sam "Wanna do the honors?"

"Please no no no... I don't wanna die" Quinn pleaded with desperate tears.

"Gladly" Sam grabbed the gun.

"Say hi to your brother" Iris muttered with a sick smile on her face as Sam pulled the trigger that ended with Quinn's life.

Detective Bailey stood shocked, his face a mixture of grief and rage as he stared down at the dead body of his daughter.

"I guess you're the last Ghostface left," Iris told him.

"Always gotta shoot them in the head," Sam added.

Pure rage crossed the detective's face, but he stood there waiting for their next move. Sam aimed the gun at him and pulled the trigger, but it clicked, they had no more bullets.

"You've got to be kidding me," Iris muttered as they watched Bailey running toward them as he also aimed his gun at them.

Sam effortlessly knocked the weapon aside while Iris punched the man in the face, causing him to stumble backward. Sam then pulled him close and, with a swift motion, threw him over the railing, sending them both crashing to the floor below.

Iris rushed down from the balcony to the theater floor. She saw Tara, with Ethan's blood all over her clothes, shaking Sam to wake her up, with Bailey unconscious on the ground next to her.

"Sam thank god" Tara muttered when she saw her sister starting to wake up.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked, glancing down at her.

"No," Tara replied, her mascara smudged beneath her eyes. "Is he dead?"

"Not yet, always go for the head" Iris raised her knife ready to plunge it into Bailey's head before Sam stopped her.

"I have a better idea," Sam said as she pulled her cellphone from the back pocket of her jeans. She turned to her younger sister and offered her the phone.

"You want us to call him?" Tara asked, confusion in her voice as Iris took the phone.

Iris examined the device, gradually understanding Sam's plan. "A little bit of payback, it's time we are the ones to fuck them up"

"Sam, make sure he suffers," was the last thing her sister said before Sam grabbed her father's cloak and mask and dashed down the stairs.

"Are you sure about this?" Tara turned to Iris as they both stared at the phone once they were left alone and they finally had a small moment of quietness.

"Absolutely, I mean the worst thing that could happen is that we die".

"You're such a fucking idiot, I can't believe I'm in love with you" Tara shook her head in amusement, even at the worst moment, Iris still found ways to be annoying.

"I love you too darling, now ready to slice one more motherfucker?"

"Fuck yeah"

When Detective Bailey finally regained consciousness, he found himself sprawled on the splintered remains of a shattered wooden table. He struggled to sit up, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over him as his ears rang with a dull, persistent thrum.

As he blinked away the haze, the faint sounds of a movie played in the background, the projection flickering against the walls. It was the film Richie had made, its dialogue a distant murmur that barely registered in his mind. He glanced around the room, disoriented, and tried to make sense of his surroundings.

Wincing at the pain that shot through him, he pushed himself to his feet. He stumbled forward, limping slightly, with his gun still secured in his hand. Just then, the sudden sound of his phone ringing jolted him back to reality, the beeping and buzzing coming from his pocket.

With a heavy huff, he reached into his pocket, wincing at the effort, and finally pulled out his phone. He pressed it to his ear, uncertainty creeping into his mind as he answered the call.

"Hello, Detective Bailey," the familiar voice of Ghostface sneered from the other end. "I have a question for you."

"Oh, really?" the detective scoffed, walking toward the stage. "And what's that?"

"What's your favorite scary movie?"

Bailey let out a chuckle, incredulous at the audacity of the call. "Favorite scary movie...?"

"I'm asking because you're in one right now. You're in our movie."

The detective fired his gun, but his shots struck nothing but the mannequins scattered around the room. As he scanned the area, his eyes landed on one particular mannequin, Billy Loomis's, stripped of its cloak and mask.

He let out a laugh. "Ah, I see you've put on your true face, huh? Your birthright. Poetic, that you're gonna die in it."

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

The detective fired again, thinking that he finally got to Sam but instead he only shot at another mannequin. "Now you know the truth, huh? Murder's in your blood." He scanned the room, growing increasingly furious. "Now stop fucking around and show yourself!"

"Be careful what you wish for,".

"I'm a fucking police officer." He shouted. "How do you think this is gonna go? Who do you think they're gonna believe, huh?"

He could hear a sick laughter. "Probably the one who's still alive."

The detective screamed in anger, as now he was the one being taunted. He turned around as the new Ghostface appeared and his eyes widened in fear.

"No, no!" The detective screamed, as he was attacked. Sam relentlessly stabbed him in every inch of skin she could have access to. Not even his cries of mercy were enough to stop her.

Finally, the man drop to the floor, where he choked on his own blood, hands pressed against the wound on his neck.

Ghostface pulled off the mask, revealing Sam, who glared down at the detective, her head tilted as she raised her hand ready to kill him off. But before she could act, the curtains behind her rustled open, and Tara and Iris stepped onto the theater floor.

Tara looked at her sister in disbelief, while Iris stood with her phone in hand, whistling in awe at what Sam had just done.

"Damn girl"

"My father was a murderer. No matter what you think, I'm better then that." Sam stated.

The detective gasped, desperation in his voice as he could feel the blood pouring from his body. "Thank you," he choked in relief. "Thank you."

Tara stared at Sam in disbelief, while Iris tilted her head, as if questioning, *Does this bitch really think?* The three shared a knowing glance.

A smirk danced across Sam's lips as she redirected her attention to the detective.

"But you did fuck with our family, so..." She grabbed the detective by the back of his neck, and she stab him right in the eye. Not soon after he fell into the floor unmoving forever.

Tara glanced at his body and nodded impressed at her sister's work "...Nice."

Sam returned the nod, her breath coming in heavy puffs. "Thanks."

Iris patted Sam's shoulder as she softly chuckled. "Can you believe this bitch truly thought you would let him live? Man that's hilarious"

Sam glanced at the two girls. "You guys okay?"

"No"

"Fuck no"

"Fair enough"

Tara and Iris made their way down the creaky staircase, then settled onto the steps to rest as they waited for Sam to join them.

"I can't believe we dodged death twice by now" Iris exhaled "we are like cockroaches"

Tara laughed silently "Finally it's over"

"If you look at it, it wasn't that bad"

Tara looked at her like she was insane "I mean yeah they tried to kill us but because of that now I have a girlfriend, and also they are dead so if you ask me it's a win win"

"Girlfriend?" Tara asked, a smirk on her face. "I assume you're not talking about me."

"What...?" Iris stammered.

"Because for me to be your girlfriend, you'd actually have to ask me."

"Well then..."

Tara cut her off. "And you definitely can't ask me now. It has to be romantic."

"Why? Don't you think being in a murder theater is romantic enough?" Iris teased.

"Keep joking like that, and you'll be single for the rest of your life."

"Geez, so bossy," Iris shot back with a grin. "I wonder where else—"

Just then, Sam appeared and slapped Iris on the head. "That's my sister you perv!"

"Ow! I can't believe you just punched me!"

"I feel like you don't get punched enough," Sam replied as she settled down beside them. "So, you two are finally a thing?"

The two girls exchanged soft smiles, intertwining their fingers. "Yes."

"So I take it it was Tara who confessed first?"

"Wh... I mean, yeah, but why would you assume that?" Iris feigned offense.

"No offense, Iris, but you're a pussy when it comes to this stuff."

"Hey!"

"She's kind of right, though."

"Well, now you're just being a traitor, love."

"Honestly, I'm really happy for both of you," Sam said warmly.

"Does this mean I have your approval?" Iris joked, knowing Sam couldn't imagine anyone better for Tara.

"Of course," Sam replied with a smile, looking at her sister and at the girl she was sure she would call her sister too one day. "But it also means I want the door open at all times."

"We're not twelve!"

"Absolutely not," they both protested in unison, leading to a shared laugh among the three of them.

After some moment of silence Tara spoke again. "Thank you guys for letting me go."

"I knew you could take care of yourself," Sam said fairly and then in a more softer tone added. "I want to be in your life, but only as much as you want me to be.

The youngest Carpenter let out a tiny grin. "I want you to be. I promise you both I'm gonna get so much therapy after this,"

They laughed as Iris wrapped an arm around her girl. "Finally"

Tara nudged her playfully as she intertwined their fingers, staring at both Iris and Sam. "We're gonna get through this, together".

Out of nowhere, Ethan came out from the darkness, charging at them with a fierce scream. Their eyes widened in shock and fear as he closed in with his knife raised ready to attack.

An old television crashed down on top of him, ensuring he would never rise again. Ethan let out choked sounds from beneath the weight before finally going limp.

Sam, Tara, and Iris stared in horror before their eyes shifted to Kirby, who was limping towards them, wearing a smirk. "I saw that in a scary movie once."

Suddenly, the theater doors burst open as police flooded in. Danny led the way, his expression softening with immense relief when he spotted Sam. He stumbled forward and wrapped her in a tight embrace, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek as he caught his breath.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concern etched across his face as he scanned her features.

Sam smiled gently at him. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"I thought you might need some reinforcements. I called the hospital and Mindy and Gale are gonna be okay. Mindy's on her way here right now; they couldn't stop her."

Tara gave the man a soft smile. "Not bad, cute boy."

He smiled back. "Thanks."

"I approve" Iris mouthed to Sam as she smiled at them.

Iris approached Kirby slowly, wrapping an arm around her waist to support her as they made their way outside for help.

"I'm sorry," Iris said, feeling ashamed for not trusting the blonde woman.

Kirby smiled at her. "It's okay, Iris. You did the right thing."

"Still, I'm sorry. I promise I won't accuse you of murder again."

Kirby laughed, wincing in pain. "God, you're just like your sister, you owe me a coffee." They exchanged warm smiles before they carefully helped Kirby onto a stretcher.

Outside, a crowd had gathered around the police's bright yellow caution tape. Various doctors tended to the injured girls, and thankfully, none had severe wounds that required extensive treatment; they only needed stitches and bandages.

As Kirby was wheeled toward the ambulance, the paramedics paused in front of the vehicle, allowing her a moment to say goodbye to the three girls.

"If you ever need me, call. We're all part of the same fucked up family now. And legacy doesn't always have to be a bad thing. Okay?"

They all smiled weakly at her but Iris looked down for a moment and sniffled lightly. Kirby turned to her with a soft look.

"Hey."

"It's just-" her voice broke, "Chad. We couldn't save him".

"Hey, we've got another one here!"

The girls turned to see medics carrying a familiar figure out of the theater on a stretcher as they wheeled him toward an ambulance.

"Chad!"

The girls rushed to his side. "You're alive!" Tara exclaimed, her eyes filling with tears as she gently touched his shoulder.

"How the fuck are you not dead?" Iris said, her voice laced with happiness as she grabbed tightly his hand.

The boy put up his hand weakly, five fingers splayed out.

"Core fucking five". Iris laughed before she took the boy's mask off, it seemed like he wanted to talk.

"Don't tell me you guys were crying for me" Chad spoke really quietly as he had trouble doing so.

"Absolutely not," he laughed at the comment, though the sound quickly shifted to a faint groan of pain.

Iris quickly put his mask on with a sheepish smile. "Sorry dude you probably need that".

"Oh my god! Oh my god, are you guys okay?" They turned as a familiar voice approached them, and Mindy skidded to a stop in front of the girls. She clutched her side, where a series of white bandages wrapped around her waist. "I know who the killer is. It's Ethan and Bailey."

Sam smiled fondly at the girl's worried expression. "And Quinn."

"Quinn too? Fuck!" Mindy exclaimed. "Did I miss the monologue again?"

Her eyes fell to her brother's injured figure. "Are you okay?" She asked her brother, before her eyes turned to the other three girls. "Are you okay? You guys don't look okay." She rambled as she followed the workers who wheeled Chad up to the ambulance. "Omg, we all survived. It's a twist and a twist; they gave me a lot of drugs, by the way."

Before she could leave with her brother, she turned to Iris. "I saw Anika" she smiled softly at them. "She's asking for you, you better go visit her"

"I will, I promise," Iris said with a fond smile as she watched her best friend get into the ambulance on their way to the hospital. Meanwhile, Sam headed over to Danny, who was waiting for her at the corner. As she turned around, she noticed Tara already watching her.

"What"

"Nothing, I just... I can't believe we're okay," Tara said, stepping closer as she wrapped her uninjured arm around Iris's neck. "We can finally live our lives in peace again."

"A peaceful life with you sounds like a dream come true," Iris replied, pressing her lips to Tara's forehead while wrapping her arms around her waist, pulling her even closer.

"You're my dream come true," Tara said, but immediately made a face after realizing how sappy it sounded. "Disgusting that was way too cheesy".

"Says the girl who wrote me a letter confessing how much she loves me,"

"Shut up! I take it back," Tara shot back, her cheeks flushing.

"You can't! I'm sorry, I don't make the rules," Iris laughed, enjoying Tara's mock annoyance.

Before Tara could respond, Iris leaned in, pressing their lips together in a sweet kiss that silenced all the teasing and wrapped them both in a moment of warmth and relief.

"How do you think Mindy and Chad are going to react when they find out we're together?" Iris asked, a playful grin spreading across her face.

"Oh, they're going to go absolutely insane," Tara replied, bursting into laughter at the thought.

"Did you know they have a bet going on with Sam?"

"Jesus even Sam?"

"Yeah"

"I fucking hate them"

The two shared a moment of laughter, imagining their friends' over-the-top reactions.

"I love you, Tara," Iris said softly, her tone sincere as she looked into Tara's eyes.

"I love you too, Iris," Tara replied, her heart swelling with affection. She pulled Iris closer, savoring the moment.

They walked side by side toward a group of police officers ready to take their statements when Iris's phone suddenly began to ring. Furrowing her eyebrows in confusion, she pulled it from her pocket. Upon seeing the caller ID, her eyes widened in horror.

"What happened?" Tara asked, glancing at her with concern.

"My mother," Iris whispered, a note of panic creeping into her voice.

"Oh," Tara squeezed her hand for support. "Good luck, you're fucked".

Iris took a deep breath and answered the call. "Hey, Mom!" she said, forcing a cheerfulness she didn't feel.

"Iris, baby, I saw the news!" her mother exclaimed, her voice filled with concern.

"What news?" Iris feigned ignorance, stealing a glance at Tara, who raised an incredulous eyebrow.

"They caught two Ghostfaces in some abandoned theater in New York!" her mother continued, clearly distressed.

"Well, actually, there were three," Iris replied, trying to inject some humor into the situation. "They're innovating, you know."

A heavy silence hung on the line as it sank in that she had just made things worse.

“Iris, please tell me you weren’t there,”

“Well, Mom, let me hold your hand when I tell you this…”

“IRIS!

[happyk44]

Chewing on my thoughts like a feral dog because I'm running on like three hours of sleep and the brain be tornadoing, but like!!! Lewin and Renzou being opposite sides of the same coin or whatever. So similar in their inability to relate to other people, and yet Lewin being incapable of disliking himself over it because, despite everything Osceola taught him and knowing there's something wrong and different about him, he is unbothered by it. He accepts his deficits for what they are, violence and all. He knows he's off compared to everyone else, but that's just how it is. It's not a big deal. He makes due.

And then there's Renzou who grew up loved and isn't violent, doesn't really have those urges or curiosities, but he knows something's wrong with him, something that separates him from everyone else around him and it makes him hate himself and he gets mad about that too because it's not like he's hurting anyone so why is he so mad about it? Why does he care so much? Why does he want to fit in with his family? They fucking suck! But they love and care about each other and he doesn't and it drives him up the wall because their lives are the same, so why is he the only one who's broken?

[malefantcsy]

stalker! chris leaving behind another gift n innocent! readers panties...

chris didn't even have to look, he already knew exactly which pair of panties you were wearing. his dark eyes had caught the tiniest glimpse of them under your panties with the way your back arched as you tried to take back the pink mechanical pencil that had been snatched as a form of teasing.

you sat a few desks in front of him, but it was close enough to smell the perfume you drench yourself in every morning—and see the smallest patch of wetness on the cotton as you stood and tossed your backpack over your shoulder.

you had gym class next—chris was able to hack into your school email just to find out your schedule. it would've been considered pathetic that he'd have to go to such lengths, but he excused himself with the thought that he just wanted to be informed in-case a future emergency.

one of the pros of going to a private school besides the small portion of kids was there were private showers.

the water that rushed from the shower nozzle slipped off your body and onto the tile floor, masking the sound of chris sneaking into the small area to rummage through the uniform you left on the counter.

he rather quickly found the dirty pair of peach colored panties—the ones he had left for you to find in your underwear drawer. you wore his gift without hesitation, as if he already had claim on you.. his cock almost instantly grew hard at the thought. his hands shook as he lifted the cotton to his face, burying his nose in the panty to get a whiff of your addicting smell.

his right arm dropped, eagerly unbuckling his pants belt and pushing the jean materiel down mid-thigh. he spat in his free hand, using it as a makeshift lube as he skillfully stroked his reddened cock.

his hand squeezed around the tip, teasing himself as he continued to inhale the fading smell of your nectar. he was close to the edge—of both cumming and getting caught—repeating small whispers telling himself to hurry up, mixing with the sighs of your name.

he brought the panties to his cock, his pre-cum leaving a dark patch on the material as he fucked through them. his head tipped back, mouth opening as he let out a quiet shout, feeling the knot in his stomach beginning to snap.

his tip rubbed harshly against the crotch of your panties, his cum shooting out in ropes when he finished. he slowly pulled his cock off the ruined underwear, a small sticky string of cum connecting him to the cotton.

he could feel himself slowly hardening once more at the sight, but knew he had to leave before he pushed it too far and got himself in trouble.

he tucked himself inside his boxers, fixing his uniforms appearance before tucking the ruined panties inside the pile of your matching shirt and skirt.

chris gave a long stare to the closed shower—you were so close. if he really wanted to he could have you right now, but no... it wasn't time for that if he wanted to keep you.

you let out a sigh as you shut off the water, wrapping the white fluffy towel against your body before stepping out, just as the door to the private shower-room hurriedly closed. your eyebrows furrowed. "hello..?"

𝟧𝟧𝟦 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 ．© 𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖾𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖼𝗌𝗒

[lokidjarin-7567]

I Hate It Here ~ Part 2

Kang Dae-ho x Reader

You had survived the first few games together, and your friendship was growing stronger, but your newfound trust would still have to withstand the deadliest game so far.

fem!reader, fluff, see part 1 for more

5.1k words

And here it is - the promised part 2!! I haven’t decided if I’m doing a part 3 yet, but hope you enjoy this for now <3

Taglist: @itsvaleriegarza @marymustdie @hardbeingcasual @onlyangle1 @mady005 @loonysbarn @ghostofscarley

TTPD Contents | General Masterlist | AO3

<- part 1

The sun beat down on you, tinted shades doing little to shield you from its glare. You could feel the warmth of the sand beneath your bare legs and back, the pink grains soaking up every beam of light. You stretched out your hands far above your head, content and peaceful as your body sank further into the malleable surface, eyes drifting closed.

Then your peace was interrupted by a shower of droplets, salty water splattering your skin. You squealed, opening your eyes to see Dae-ho standing over you, smile wider than you’d ever seen it, shaking his long, dripping hair like a puppy.

“Dae-ho!” You gasped, secretly grateful for the splash of cool. He laughed, standing straight again and running his hands through the tangled locks. You were glad for the opportunity it gave you to gaze at him like this - happy and free. He was almost shining in the sun, the ocean drops still clinging to his form and practically glittering in the light. The way his body moved when he laughed was like art, toned chest rising and falling, arms flexing as he pulled his hair back into a lazy bun.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist.” He said with a grin, sitting on the soft sand beside you. His fingers moved to trace the droplets still sitting on your arm, connecting them with soft strokes like a constellation across your skin. You hummed in contentment.

“I just looked too relaxed, did I?” You asked in cheek, smile widening.

“Exactly. Need to keep you on your toes.” You closed your eyes again, only to feel his dripping wet head touch your shoulder mere moments later. You squinted, looking down to see him sprawled out across the sand perpendicular to you, arm draped across his eyes and using you as a pillow. Your heart swelled at the domesticity of it, the way he was so relaxed around you. Free from the games, free from your lives in the bustling city, free from the debt that used to drown you. It was a side of him you loved seeing; when he wasn’t on edge, or feeling like he always had to protect you from something. Just… calm. You pressed a feather light kiss to his forehead, the taste of salt and the scent of him filling your senses, and you watched as his lips curved slightly at the gesture.

Then something caught your eye. A flash of colour, just at the edge of your vision. There, by the sea front, a person was standing in a pink jumpsuit. Your heart dropped at the sight of them, recognising the uniform of the guards even without the signature mask. You moved to sit up, but Dae-ho’s head rested heavy on your shoulder. You tried to speak, to warn him, but nothing came out. Their face was blurry, but you knew they were looking at you somehow, whole body paralysed in fear. Then they started to move closer. Their steps were quick, and you tried to scream again, to move, to do anything but nothing happened. You couldn’t move, couldn’t make a sound. You could only watch as the faceless figure pulled a gun from their pocket, and shot Dae-ho in the chest.

**

You woke abruptly, gasping for air as your mind slowly worked out where you were, simultaneously relieved and disappointed to still be in this place. You took a few seconds to calm your panic, using the rise and fall of Dae-ho’s chest under your hand to slow your racing heart. His own hand had fallen from your waist in sleep, so you slowly and gently shuffled yourself out from under the bunks, careful not to wake him. As soon as you were sitting up, you ran your hands over your face, only to realise it was wet from the silent tears that had fallen from your dream. You wiped them away, steeling yourself, before glancing up to see who was awake. Young-il and Jung-bae were on watch right now, but from the looks of it, Jung-bae had fallen asleep, much to the annoyance of Player 001, who had a firm scowl on his face. Coincidently, Gi-hun seemed to wake up at the same time as you, crawling out from the single mattress with a yawn.

“Young-il…” you muttered quietly, not wanting to wake Jung-bae from his peaceful position, curled on the floor like a baby. “Have you been awake since we switched?” He nodded wordlessly, and he looked exhausted, eyes starting to droop. “Go to sleep for a while. I can look out for now.”

“Are you sure?” You opened your mouth to speak, but Gi-hun answered for you.

“I’ll stay up with her too. I won’t be able to fall asleep now anyway.” You nodded in agreement, and Young-il gently bowed his head in your direction. He settled himself in the single mattress, while Gi-hun woke Jung-bae gently, ushering him to where you had just been sleeping, insisting he would be in pain tomorrow if he slept on the floor. He agreed quietly, still half asleep, and barely a minute after he had settled in, you heard his soft snores once more.

You sat in silence with Gi-hun for a while, still rattled from your dream. It had been such an intense dichotomy; the beauty and peace ruined with senseless violence. The feeling of losing him was still stuck in your throat, sharp and painful, and you tucked your legs to your chest, hugging them tight in the hope that it might give you some small comfort.

“Are you ok?” Gi-hun muttered, sensing the fear radiating from you.

“Yeah, I just… how did you do it? When you won the last game… how did you cope with… losing people? Or did you manage to stay detached…” He laughed coldly at that, interrupting your rambling and shaking his head.

“When I woke up in that first game, I discovered that my childhood friend was there too. He was so well known in the community we grew up in - a genius that graduated from SNU, the pride of Ssangmun-dong. Everything I know about this game, I learnt from him. His perception every time we played something new, his ability to read the other people, his intelligence and strategy… it kept me alive for so long. Then he started to let the game get to him. Became more ruthless, killing people to get what he wanted. There was a young girl - someone who stole from me just before the game, but we became allies fast and I started to think of her like…” He paused, emotion raw as his voice cracked at the mention of her. “You remind me of her, actually. Resourceful, smart, kind….” Another pause, and he clenched his jaw, composing himself. “We were the final three. And he killed her in cold blood. Then in the final game…” He didn’t need to finish his sentence. Your heart hurt for him, losing the people he loved and cared about in such a brutal way, so out of his control. Even if his friend had changed, that wouldn’t have stopped how much it hurt to have to do that.

“But… couldn’t you have split the money and walked? The three of you?” A tear fell from his eye at that, the only sign of emotion perceptible on his face, and he sighed sadly as he wiped it away.

“That wasn’t a rule in our game. It was walk and get nothing, or kill and get everything. I wanted to choose the former, but when he killed Sae-byeok… I had no choice.” You nodded.

“What was his name?” He finally glanced at you then, shock falling across his features briefly before being replaced with a sad smile.

“Sang-woo. Cho Sang-woo.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Gi-hun. Truly. This game…” You reached for his hand, gripping it tight in both of yours, and he nodded, placing his other hand on your arm comfortingly.

“Thank you. I’ve not… Nobody has asked about them, because nobody knows what happened to them. So thank you for giving me the chance to talk about them. They were good people, truly, even after everything.” He nodded to you one last time, before removing his hands from yours and clearing his throat. “I’m sorry, I got sidetracked… in answer to your question, I didn’t manage to stay detached from it. I lost everyone, and not a day goes by where I don’t think of them.” He turned to face you, eyes scanning your undoubtedly terrified face. “I’m sorry, I know that the answer you wanted.”

“It’s not, but it’s the answer I expected. It’s too late anyway. I fear I’m already irrevocably attached to this team.” You sighed deeply, hugging your legs tightly.

“I guess we’ll all just have to stay alive for one more game.”

The music started, and you watched as everyone woke up, your team crawling from beneath the beds. The anxiety of what the day might bring was already making you sick to your stomach, but as soon as Dae-ho was in view, grinning widely when he spotted you, you instantly felt calmer.

“Morning.” He said cheerily, sitting next to you as the speakers announced that the next game would commence shortly, a 30 minute timer starting to tick down. His hand found yours, sensing your fear and panic that still lingered, thumb tracing comforting patterns across your palm.

“Morning.” You replied quietly. It was an improvement from the previous morning, when you hadn’t been able to speak at all. Right now, you just needed him to distract you. To help you forget what was about to happen. “Did you sleep ok?” He laughed lightly.

“I did, although I did get a shock this morning when I rolled over to see Jung-bae’s face instead of yours!” You laughed at that.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t sleep.” He just smiled, hand drifting to your face and tucking a stray hair behind your ear. You’d tied it up to sleep, but it had come loose, stands falling out and getting in your way. He seemed to notice, fingers lingering on the locks just a moment too long.

“Shall I braid it for you? Get it out of your way to help you focus today?” His voice was so genuine, so empathetic, you almost felt like you were going to cry.

“You can braid hair?” You asked, and he just gave you a look that seemed to say ‘really?’. “Right, 4 sisters.”

“Exactly. My sisters made me learn when I was young, and I used to braid their hair for pocket money, so I think that makes me a professional hair stylist, actually…” You giggled, heart warm. “Now spin around, lets see what we can do…”

It was exactly what you needed to distract you. When he was so close, it was the only thing you could think about - his hands gently running through your hair, his legs pressed firmly against your back, his breath fanning against your neck. And he was right; he was practically a professional. It was tight, but not too much to hurt. There were no flyaways, no annoying strands to get in your way. It was perfect.

He moved to sit in front of you once it was done, making a show of checking it like a real stylist would, making you laugh as he gently moved your head from side to side, hand lingering on your jaw.

“Beautiful…” he muttered, and you smiled warmly, gaze lingering on every detail of his face, committing it to memory. His puppy dog eyes, the curve of his lips, the slope of his nose. The comfort he brought you even during the darkest time of your life continued to surprise you, the sweetness and optimism you usually found irritating perfectly balancing out your pessimistic nature.

“Thank you.” You replied earnestly, and he leant forward, placing a quick kiss to your forehead as the speakers instructed you to line up in the centre of the room.

“Always.”

When you entered the game room, you didn’t know what to make of it. It was almost circular in shape, walls lined with multicoloured doors, and a large, carousel-like podium in the centre. The ceiling looked like a circus tent, swooping, striped curtains covered in lights that illuminated the whole space. Dae-ho’s hand reached out to yours instinctively, holding it tight as you were instructed to make your way onto the platform, and that you would be playing Mingle. You listened to the instructions as your team strategised, planning out the best combinations if different numbers were called out. You squeezed Dae-ho’s hand tighter, and your eyes met in a silent pact. No matter what was called, you would stick together.

Let the game begin.

The podium stuttered to life, spinning slowly as the room was filled with the sound of a childlike song, lights changing to the beat. Then, it stopped suddenly, lights darkening as the first number was called out.

10

You all looked around, trying to find more players to join your group, but Gi-hun was fastest, grabbing a hold of Player 120 and asking how many people were in her team. She answered 4, and you all looked around for another player, but it was chaos, everyone grabbing each other left right and centre and running into the multicoloured rooms. Player 120 spied someone, grabbing her, and you all ran to a green door, Dae-ho’s hand on the small of your back, guiding you as you sprinted as fast as you could. Young-il made it to the door first, holding it open and ushering everyone into the room, counting as he went, then closing the door behind you once everyone was safe. You took a second to breathe, heart racing, then you heard the gunshots. You flinched, and Dae-ho’s arm protectively wrapped around your shoulders, pulling your back close to his chest.

The shooting stopped, and the only thing that could be heard in the room was everyone’s heavy breathing, still in shock from what just happened.

“You’re alive thanks to me!” Player 044 exclaimed, her harsh, loud voice making you all jump. She walked up and down the room, looking at each of you with intensity. She paused at you and Dae-ho, glancing between your faces and his protective stance, a small smirk appearing on her face. You didn’t realise you were holding your breath until she moved away, sighing and glancing up at him in confusion.

“So, there’s a reason you’ve lived longer than you were destined to.” She spoke matter-of-factly, and you whipped your head around to see her directly addressing Gi-hun. “There’s a reason you were brought here.” Nobody spoke, confused and unnerved, ignoring her strange words and instead listening carefully as the intercom rattled off a list of eliminated players. Eventually, the door unlocked, and you headed back to the central platform, which was now painted with blood.

Dae-ho grabbed your hand as it started to spin again, now standing as a group of ten, waiting for the music to stop. It somehow still surprised you when it did, the motion of the carousel grinding to a halt almost knocking you over, and the speakers announced the number.

4

Your heart dropped. You’d have to split up, and if one of your group didn’t make it…

“You four, go, go…” Young-il said quickly, and before any of you had a chance to respond, he was lost in the chaos, shouting for three more players. You paused, trying to find him in the crowd, all of you frozen in shock, but Jung-bae snapped out of it first, grabbing Dae-ho’s arm and moving.

“We have no choice. Let’s go.” Dae-ho’s hand was tight around yours, dragging you to follow, and you grabbed a hold of Gi-hun, forcing him to move. You made it to a purple room, piling in quickly, but there were still 12 seconds on the clock, so Gi-hun stood in the doorway, eyes frantically scanning the crowd for any sign that Player 001 was safe.

“Do you think Young-il will be ok?” Dae-ho asked, voice shaking, and you squeezed his hand tighter, nodding furiously.

“He has to be.” Your voice was unwavering, but it was a front, your heart sinking further and further into your stomach as the time ticked down and Gi-hun still hadn’t caught a glimpse of him. As the clock hit 2 seconds, Jung-bae muttered his name quietly, pulling him inside, and shutting the door quickly. You heard it lock, and a deathly silence fell over the space. All you could do now was wait.

As the doors unlocked, you all hurried out, scanning the room and calling his name. You saw Player 120 and the rest of her team exit a room nearby, and you were relieved momentarily for them, making a mental note to stay near them the next round too.

“Gi-hun!” You heard a voice call behind you, and saw Young-il walking towards you all, a smile on his face. You breathed a huge sigh of relief, quickly moving towards him and giving him a big hug, so grateful that you were all still alive.

“I knew you were going to be ok!” Jung-bae exclaimed dramatically, patting him on the back as you released him. “I knew it! You’re not just anybody.” He laughed in response, grinning widely.

“I was worried.” Gi-hun said, looking at him intensely, tears in his eyes. “I’m glad you made it.”

“I’m a likeable guy, so I’m good at games like this.” He said lightly, but something in you thought he was downplaying it. Gi-hun was still yet to take his eyes off him, scanning him as though he had just woken up from a dream, coming to terms with the fact he was actually alive and well.

You stood together on the platform again, saying a quick hello and well done to Player 120 and her team. They were kind people, all expressing how glad they were that you were safe too, especially the older woman - Player 149 - who was arm in arm with her son. The music started once again, and you were more used to the movement. It stopped a lot quicker than you expected though, surprising you.

3

Fear flashed through you briefly, but there was also a clarity. A realisation. If that’s how terrified you had felt when Young-il wasn’t with you, how would you feel if you didn’t know Dae-ho was safe? If he couldn’t find a room in time? You swallowed, glancing at Gi-hun, but he was already looking at you. After your talk last night, you knew that he would understand the look in your eyes. I will not let any of them die for me to survive. I couldn’t live with myself. You nodded at each other silently in acknowledgement.

“Go.” You said firmly, and Dae-ho called your name, but you grabbed Gi-hun’s hand, quickly moving in the other direction with him to find a third player. You could hear his protests behind you as Jung-bae and Young-il dragged him towards a room, but you ignored them, tears in your eyes as you searched the crowd. You saw her at the same time; the mother, Player 149, frozen, staring at two other players who were forcefully dragging her son into a different room. You ran to her as fast as you could, Gi-hun just ahead, wrapping your arm around her tightly and forcing her to move as he went ahead and found a room for you. You made it with barely a second to spare, collapsing on the floor next to her in exhaustion.

“Are you alright?” Gi-hun asked her gently. She looked defeated, staring blankly at the wall, but she responded quickly as soon as she realised he was speaking to her.

“Oh. Oh, yes. Thank you. You two saved my life.”

“Not at all,” you replied, “you saved ours. I’m sorry you and your son got separated, but I saw him get into a room so at least you’re both ok.” She breathed a sigh of relief at that, grabbing your hand in both of hers.

“That’s wonderful, I didn’t quite see him get in so that’s such a relief. Thank you, thank you so much...”

As the door unlocked, you exited cautiously, scanning the room for the rest of your team.

“Mrs Jang!” You heard a voice cry out, and you watched with a smile as the two other members of her team ran up to greet her, enveloping her in a big hug.

“Goodness! I’m so glad you’re ok.” She exclaimed, holding them tight. You grabbed Gi-hun’s arm as you watched their reunion, touched. “You’re not hurt at all, are you?” She asked, looking over each of them closely as another player followed up behind them, and Player 120 gestured towards him.

“He saved our lives.”

“Mr. 246 here showed up when we were running out of time, just like Prince Charming!” He blushed and looked down as Player 095 spoke, a small smile on his face.

“Boy, you do look like a prince. Thank you so much!” Watching the interaction Mrs Jang had with her teammates was making you tear up a little. She viewed them as children, her love showing through in her actions so clearly.

“Not at all. These two saved my life.” Player 246 spoke up as she shook his hand warmly.

“Where’s Young-sik?” Player 120 asked, just noticing that she had been with you and Gi-hun rather than her son. But before she could answer, a quiet voice spoke up from just behind her.

“Mum…” He was frozen, breathing shaky, but she went up to him quickly, reassuring him as he broke down apologising. Player 120 asked what happened quietly, and you were in the middle of telling her when you heard a familiar voice call your name. You spun around to see Dae-ho nearly sprinting towards you, eyes red and bloodshot, scooping you up before you even had a second to register what was happening. His grip was vice-like, almost winding you as he held you flush to his body, burying his face in your neck. You wrapped your arms around his neck, hands finding purchase in his hair and running through it soothingly, a few tears falling with relief.

“It’s ok, I’m ok. We both made it.” You muttered as he pulled back slowly, eyes scanning you for any signs of injury, hands moving from your back up to hold your face gently. You sighed into his touch as he wiped the tears from your eyes, your own hands resting lightly on his chest.

“Why did you do that?” He whispered, voice broken and raw, and it shattered your heart, but at least he was alive.

“I couldn’t lose you. I needed to make sure you were safe. I’m sorry.” Your hands bunched up into fists, gripping his shirt tight as he moved closer to you, resting his forehead to yours in a promise.

“Stay with me next time. I can’t… you can’t just…” You interrupted his broken rambles.

“I promise.”

Your fingers were laced together tightly as the movement started again, deja-vu hitting you, and you couldn’t help but wonder how many rounds were left of this hell. It stopped quite quickly again, lights cutting out as panicked murmurs rose up all around you.

6

There were ten of you in your little group now, and you felt yourself start to panic.

“4 women, 2 men, go!” Gi-hun shouted quickly, and Jung-bae asked which 2 men, but before that question could be answered, Dae-ho and Young-sik gathered you up, quickly pushing you towards a door. The first one you opened was full, the team inside screaming at you to leave, but you heard Player 120 calling to say she had found an empty room. You and Dae-ho made it in first, closely followed Young-sik and his mum. You glanced back out through the open doorway, and could see the four you’d left behind grabbing two people and heading towards a room of their own. You breathed a sigh of relief, the time ticking fast, but Player 120 stopped, looking back at all of you.

“Where’s Young-mi?” She asked. She stepped out from the doorframe, wildly looking for her, but before she could go any further, a player you didn’t recognise shoved her hard, moving into the room and slamming the door just as the clock reached zero. Shock rippled through you, and the realisation hit that one of their own was still outside. Her face appeared outside the door, tears in her eyes, and Player 120 ran straight to her, saying her name over and over and frantically trying to open the door. Then you heard the gunshot.

When the doors unlocked, everyone was quiet and despondent. You’d lost someone. You felt sorry for her teammates, of course you did, but you couldn’t help but feel incredibly grateful that it wasn’t one of your own group. The player who had saved the rest of you was still trailing behind you, and you recognised him now as the guy who Young-il had saved on the first day - Myung-gi, or something like that. He already had a lot of enemies in here, and now he’d just gained one more.

The final round will now begin.

Dae-ho hadn’t once let go of your hand, and you were still standing side-by-side, arms pressed together. Myung-gi was standing just behind you awkwardly, trying to stay close to some people he knew, but keeping his distance from who he just betrayed.

“What do you think it will be this time?” Jung-bae asked nervously.

“Two.” Young-il replied, quick and definitive.

“Why?”

“There are 126 people left, and there are 50 rooms. So there won’t be enough rooms for everyone, only 100 hundred people. The rest will be killed.”

“If he’s right,” Dae-ho whispered, “the moment it’s announced we run straight forward to the first room we see, ok? No hesitating.”

“Ok.” You responded, gripping his hand tighter.

2

You didn’t stop for even a second, running straight past everybody else and towards the blue door ahead of you. He was faster than you, but only just, and his hand never left yours even though you were trailing behind. You made it to the door with time to spare, and you slammed it closed, throwing your bodies against it to prevent anyone from opening it before the time was up. You slid to the floor, using your feet to leverage your body weight, watching the time slowly tick and bracing for impact, but it never came.

The clock hit zero, and the door locked.

You immediately started crying, quickly moving from the door and throwing your arms around Dae-ho, hugging him tight as you waited for the guns to stop firing, so relieved that it was over. You sat back from him just slightly, hands finding purchase on his shoulders and listening carefully as they announced the eliminated players. You smiled widely when your team weren’t called, his hands finding grip on your forearms as he grinned back at you. You were inches away from each other now, your legs draped across his, exhausted breaths filling the space between you.

“We did it.” He whispered, hands moving to wipe your tears yet again. There was a tenderness in his eyes that was indescribable and warm, echoing your own feelings.

“Holy shit, we actually did it.” You laughed in disbelief. And in that moment, in your exhaustion and delirium, you couldn’t help yourself, hands gliding to the back of his neck and pressing your lips to his. It was brief, barely a kiss as you realised what you’d just done, letting him go and flushing bright red.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…” He cut you off by placing one finger across your lips gently. His hand moved to your chin, gently guiding you to face him. As soon as his eyes met yours, earnest and kind, you knew you hadn’t made a mistake. He kissed you then, slowly and tenderly. One hand wrapped around your waist to pull your body flush to his, and the other rested against your jaw, keeping you angled just how he wanted. Your hands settled in his hair, legs practically wrapped around his waist as you tried to get closer, needing more of him. All of him. You hummed against his lips in contentment, feeling him smile against you before pulling back for air. You were completely breathless, but your lips chased his regardless, and he laughed lightly.

“Beautiful, kind angel.” He whispered, pressing another feather light kiss to your lips. “We’re gonna make it out of here, you hear me? We’re going to get out, and I’m going to take you on a proper date.” You smiled, giddy at the feeling of his hand on your waist and his body against yours.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You pressed your lips to his again, earning a soft, affectionate groan. Then the door unlocked, and you sighed. You didn’t want to go out there, back to the other people, back to reality, back to the voting and games and politics of it all. You wanted to just stay in this tiny room until you could go home. But he moved first, giving you one last kiss before untangling his legs, quickly standing up before helping you. “Let’s go home.”

[oceantornadoo]

Please I just want to say I LOVE YOU AND YOUR WORK HUHBBDEUBYUVTYVTUOVY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If you could come up with anything more on the Simon Riley Cut-bulk-the-bird-said-she-liked-me-big-thing I will be your servant forever.

tw: body talk (i headcanon simon as someone who shops in the big & tall section so i think his clothes would fit the body type of every reader. if you shop in that same section, imagine him being MORE bigger and taller than you. mans is 6'4 fr)

--

(a few months later)

simon almost ripped the shirt off his body in frustration. another piece of clothing he had outgrown. he added it to the pile of clothes that he couldn't fit anymore. sleeves too tight, stomach pushing out the fabric. sure he was still in shape, could pass the military physical easily, but he was no longer the lean 22-year-old he once was, muscles now hidden under layers of fat. and he hated it.

there was a knock at the door. still a little pissed off, he opened it with more force than necessary, grunting out "what." before even looking down at who knocked. just his luck, it was you, the one person he tried to be nice to.

"what's got you so grumpy?" you smiled up at him, all sugar and spice. you loved simon's growls, the social anxiety and introvertedness he hid under irritation. it just made it more valuable whenever he laughed at one of your god-awful puns or let you lay on his shoulder. you were never second-guessing if he liked you, mostly because he hated everyone else.

"sorry, didn't see it was you. was jus' doing some spring cleaning." you laughed, a tinkling sound that transitioned into a snort. he loved your insane laughter, a real sound of joy. you peered around his large torso and spotted the pile of clothes on his bed. "doing a big donation, simon?" it was always a punch to the gut to hear his name come out of your mouth, laced with sarcasm and cheek. ever since he told you you could say it in private with him a month ago, you never stopped using it. "somethin' like that. clothes piss me off." you huffed, pushing past him easily as he let you into his room. he closed the door behind you, trying to calm his heart rate as he saw you, here, in his space. like you were his too.

"what did the poor fabric do to you?" you sorted through the clothes, seeing nothing wrong with most. they were all practical clothes, but none had noticeable holes or wear. he mumbled something, too low for you to catch it. "say that again?" he scratched his head and looked away, almost meek. "said they don't fit." ah, there was the problem. "that's okay. just means your muscles are too big." you tried to give a compliment, anything to get rid of the storms in his eyes. "nah. 've gotten fat." you put the shirt you were holding down with force, stomping over to where he had now taken a seat at his spare chair. you stepped between his legs, which opened easily for you. you gripped his chin and turned it towards you, forcing eye contact. "so what? just means you've been eating well, simon. nothing wrong with that."

he looked down, almost reminding you of a kicked puppy. "you don't care?" you weren't dating, yet, but you two had some sort of a romantic understanding. some acknowledgement of there being more, an exclusive connection between you two. "no. i like my men big. like when you can throw me around." he barked out a laugh, surprised at your admission. you smiled back, satisfied. getting a laugh out of him was 80% of the battle. "and these clothes are still good for something." his eyes were on you again, questioning.

you walked back to the bed, full of confidence now. turning to face him, you slowly grabbed the hem of your shirt, untucking it from your tactical pants. he wasn't wearing his mask, so you could see his mouth physically drop at the action. ever so slowly, you raised your arms, bringing your shirt with you. you tossed the shirt aside, standing in front of him with only your bra and pants on. his eyes were dark with desire and he made a move to stand up, but you commanded him with a sharp "sit." like a loyal guard dog, he lowered himself back into his chair, complete captivated.

turning back to the bed, you grabbed one of his outgrown sweatshirts and put it on. it smelled like him, that masculine scent tinged with the cologne he sometimes wore. "see?" you gestured to the sweatshirt, too big on you. "you just gave me a bunch of free clothes." he grunted, still fixated on the sweatshirt. his lack of response made you nervous. "what?" you asked. "give us a spin." you spun slowly, trying not to smile too much. god, the things this man does to you.

"'like seeing my last name on you."

now whose jaw was dropping?

[parkersbliss]

A Domestic Life | S. Riley

pairing: simon “ghost” riley x female reader

warnings: none just some fluff bc I don’t see enough for him :(( maybe OOC

synopsis: just some fluffy headcannons about the infamous ghost and how he treats relationships

a/n: there is not enough tooth rotting fluff for this guy and I’m gonna fix that starting now

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for ghost!

—

sleeps like a log. the guy sleeps on his back, pointed at the sleeping and when he’s out he’s OUTTTT that boy does not sleep on the field so in an actual bed? he’s comatose. of course if you have a nightmare you can wake him up anytime. he’ll be a little confused at first but he’s got the spirit

enjoys cuddling but not in his sleep. he overheats so easily bc of how big he is so you guys keep your space. he is happy to hold you before bed though while watching a movie or scrolling on tiktok

he’s a DRY texter oh my god. it’s like your biggest pet peeve. “how’s your day” “fine” “made any progress?” “no.” you’re working on improving his skills but he’s just like that. you asked a question, he answers. besides he doesn’t frequently have time to text you long detailed replies

obviously ghost loves his mask, and it makes sense for him to conceal his identity but he doesn’t when he’s back with you. he likes to keep his identities separate. ghost and the mask for the field, regular simon at home. it’s not like anyone would know they were the same guy, except you of course.

on the off chance he’s home for halloween, he doesn’t use his mask as a costume (just in case anyone could connect the dots) but does keep the skeleton theme

his favorite holiday is christmas and he always makes sure he can have it off

he LOVES to cook. he doesn’t eat good when deployed so he loves coming home and cooking himself up exactly what he wanted. don’t get me wrong, he loves if you cook too but there’s something about not being able to control what you eat and then having full control and making homemade pasta for him

wears beanies all the time in winter. the dudes got a buzz cut, standard, so his heads cold. he loves when you wear a matching one with him

wakes up at the ass crack of dawn bc his body is just used to it after so many years

when he retires, he plans on having a small farm for even fresher homemade ingredients like eggs, milk etc. and he’ll wake up early to do the farm chores

again with the shitty food thing, he only likes gas station coffee. he’s so used to a crappy cup of joe that he can’t do the fancy shit. then again, he’s more of a tea guy anyway

loves his alone time but he likes you there, if that makes sense? like he loves reading a novel and not talking but just having you also read in the same room

likes just sitting on the couch together and watching a movie

It took him a while to adjust to physical touch after it being 1.) mostly abuse or 2.) enemies after him but he is not completely against it. he knows it’s important in relationships so he tries his best and eventually learns to love it

a sucker for slow dancing in the living room. bonus points if it’s with the christmas tree lights and music. he loves swaying around and the occasional stepping on feet and your giggles

his most prized possession besides the guns and you is a le creuset tea pot you gifted him for christmas. it’s bright blue with a gold handle and perfect.

he has a tea collection on display and is always trying new flavors from around the world. his green tea is imported from japan ONLY. always makes two cups for himself and you

loves to do any picnic dates or apple picking or farm style dates. the man loves food as FRESH as possible.

his bucket lists consists of food places around the world he wants to try and go with you.

including fugu from japan. you are totally opposed because of the whole life or death thing associated with it, but simon’s used to risks and he’ll do his research ofc.

he’ll never admit but he wants to go to america just to try the fast food there. he knows it’s bad and the opposite of what he stands for but the chinese in britain is ASS and doesn’t canes, in n out and chick fil a look SO good?

bicep holding >>> hand holding

he needs routine. simon needs to wake up at the same time, make breakfast for you guys at the same time, have his quiet time on the porch. watch the morning news with you and the tea. always at the same times. he tries not to but he can’t help bringing some of his military life home

his crew knows he has a wife but that’s it. ghost keeps simon separate and you are married to simon.

plus he can never be too safe when it comes to his work. the only name you went by when he’s deployed is “my wife” or “mrs riley”

doesn’t even carry a photo of you bc he’s that paranoid

you guys actually get married within 18 months because it just makes life easier. as soon as simon knew he wanted to marry you, he did.

it’s just easier in the military bc of pay, benefits, deployment, etc. and ofc he loves you and was locking that down ASAP

sends you recipes when he’s deployed for you to make and rate

when he can’t sleep, which is often, he just lays next to you not touching and contemplated how it is after all the bad he’s done, how he got it so good.

and he makes sure you know how appreciative he is

[sgt-tombstone]

au where Johnny never joined the military (his knee got fucked up before he could and they wouldn’t let him enlist) but it’s okay because that means he got to go to college and study engineering, which is the closest he could get to being a civilian demolitions expert

Anyway, the city his college is in has an army base nearby, which means that every dating app he opens is flooded with army boys looking to marry the first person who so much as looks at them the right way. Johnny’s never been relationship-oriented; he likes hookups too much to settle down like that, but he loves scrolling through to drool over all of the gym pictures

And then one catches his eye. Simon. He doesn’t show his face on his profile, but his muscles more than make up for it. His appearance, though, isn’t what Johnny is most interested in, because his bio says…

Anyone interested in committing marriage fraud?

And that’s… something.

So of course Johnny swipes. He doesn’t expect to match, because Simon looks like a Greek God, and he almost throws his phone across the room when the little heart appears, telling him that he and Simon have both swiped on each other. Which means that Simon swiped on him first. It’s a heady feeling, but he’s not really sure why.

John: marriage fraud?

It’s not his strongest first message, but sue him, he’s curious.

Simon: I’m not interested in a relationship or even sex, but I have a very vested interest in being able to move off base

John: so, what? we get married and then…?

Simon: we don’t have to live together or even like each other. You can finish your studies, get the tax benefits, and live your life as you choose while I get to move off base and maintain my privacy

Honestly, it sounds like a win/win to Johnny. He’s not struggling financially per se, but being able to live exactly as he is while also gleaning tax benefits is… an attractive choice.

John: and if I meet someone else that I’m serious about?

Simon: I have no qualms about an uncontested divorce

John: let’s meet up for lunch and discuss the details

———

Lunch is a simple affair, just a local restaurant, frequented by students and soldiers alike, so they both fit in well. Simon is unfairly attractive, even if he only reveals the bottom half of his face to eat or drink. He’s massive and blond and his eyes do something to Johnny’s insides that he can’t bring himself to dissect further. They chat over their food, sharing details about themselves. Johnny shares more than Simon, and he has a hunch that that’s on purpose, but he doesn’t mind. They click instantly, and Johnny can tell that Simon is taken aback by that. It’s sweet, almost, the way that such a large military man is floundering in the face of genuine human connection. After they’ve finished, they turn to business.

With a quiet, deep voice, Simon lays out his entire plan, and Johnny is fully on board. He’s ready to sign the papers today, but they legally have to wait a month.

It’s the longest month of Johnny’s life.

They text constantly, or as constantly as they can. Sometimes Johnny feels inordinately young and sometimes very inferior; while he’s talking Simon’s ear off about some explosive compound used in building demolitions, Simon is off… doing god knows what, god knows where, serving the country. But Simon always listens, always sounds engaged over the phone when they call, always has follow-up questions that show he’s actually interested. And while Simon can’t talk much about his work, he can talk about details. Small stuff; the awful food, the hot dust where he’s stationed, the day-to-day activities that don’t give away too much. Johnny learns that he’s a lieutenant, a sniper (though that’s more through context clues than anything else), that he wears a mask all the time to protect himself, that he doesn’t like scrambled eggs (or at least, not military scrambled eggs), that he has a very complex skincare routine, that he respects the hell out of his captain. That he’s a good man, or tries to be. That he’s a sweetheart, deep down, despite trying to hide it.

They eventually get married, down at the courthouse, with Simon’s captain, Price, and Johnny’s best mate, Kyle, as witnesses.

And then life goes on. Johnny continues his studies, continues going to parties and hooking up with people every weekend, continues living his life. He assumes that Simon does the same. They keep in contact, for the most part, except when Simon’s in the field and he can’t have his phone, but he always brings back little inconsequential stories when he returns. It’s nice, in a way. They’d never exchanged rings, but sometimes Johnny wishes they had, just so he had something tangible to tie him to his husband.

I’m not sure how it would end, though…

Maybe it would be Sweet Home Alabama style, where Johnny finds someone that he thinks he loves and has to get Simon to sign the divorce papers, only to realize at the last minute that he really doesn’t want to, that he’s been in love with Simon all along

Maybe Simon gets medically discharged and ends up moving in with Johnny, where they both dance around their feelings for each other, despite already being married

Maybe they just… realize one day, that they’ve slowly but surely fallen in love with each other over the years and suddenly, nothing else matters because they’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for

[c0llisiion]

DAY 13 — FELIX

★ npr, f!reader, cnc , unprotected sex , intruder!au , mentions of gun play — lmk if i missed any!!; W/C: 1,254

Hello! This is part of my kinktober list! Day13 is officially out <3

This is strictly fiction. Any scenario or situation should not be taken seriously. Please refrain from reading if the topics make you uncomfortable.

[ visuals! <3 ]

You ran for the door, but before you could reach for it, you were yanked by your hair and onto the ground. You stared up at the masked man with tears brimming in your eyes.

“Where do you think you are going, little girl?” He asked tauntingly; his deep voice sent shivers down your spine.

You started backing up before your back hit the wall behind you. 

You were scared to death. You were all alone at home. Waiting for your boyfriend to be back, when suddenly you heard things crash in your living room and you felt your heart drop. You had peaked out the room to see if anyone was there so you could escape and call the police. You made a run for it when you thought no one was there, but oh were you wrong. 

The man looked down at your trembling form and crouched down to your level before grabbing your jaw. “Whats a pretty little thing like you doing all alone?”

You could practically see the smugness. You quickly snatched your face and started moving to the side slowly to once again make a run for it. Felix was not dumb. He quickly caught on to it before towering and trapping you under his build.

Think you can escape that easily?” He said scoffing. “Try harder slut.” His voice was gruff and made you shiver slightly.

The gun in his other hand slowly trailed up your leg; you panicked as you watched it get closer and closer to your body.

“N-no… please…” you pleaded, tears running down your face. Felix clicked his tongue. “I thought of taking all of your things and running away, but i would rather…” His voice had a sultry edge to it, the end of the gun inching closer and closer to your core.  

You shivered and cried harder as you watched him. “Please… s-sir no… i don’t want this-“ “no sweetheart… i need a yes from you…” he cut you off, his face getting closer to yours as the gun was slowly getting pressed onto your clit.

You tried closing your legs, but he quickly pushed your thighs open, giving you no liberty to protect yourself.

“Its either a yes or I'm going to make you submit to me…” he whispered in your ear as the head of the gun was used to draw circles on your clit.

Your lower lip trembled, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft, shaky moan. The front of your gray shorts, collecting your arousal.

Felix glanced down and chuckled. “You’re getting turned on…. How pathetic.” He mocked you.

You shook your head and let your tears fall. “P-please… let me go…! I don’t like this!” And before you could even think, the head of the gun was pushed into you, making you moan and squirm.

Felix chuckled. “How cute… tiny little pussy… Maybe I will not kill you…” he said as he continued pushing the gun in.

Your moans were muffled as he forced his cock down your throat. Your hands and fingers are resisting the urge to hold onto anything.

You looked up at the man still in a mask, his head thrown over the couch.

Your tears continued streaming down your face, your face in a scowl as the grip on your hair tightened and the thrusts got faster.

“Dont scowl pretty… don’t want that face building up wrinkles at such a young age, dont ya?” He chuckled, pushing your face fully down to his pelvis. His cock hitting the back of your throat and your nose face to face with his neatly trimmed base.

You gagged and choked around his length, before he pulled you back. A string of saliva connected your lips to his cock. Lips swollen and eyes stained with tears as you tried catching your breath.

He slapped your face before grabbing your jaw and pushing three of his fingers in your mouth. “You take cock well dont you…? What a slut.” He mocked you once again. You coughed and stared at him defeated. “Bend over the couch. Now.” He commanded, but you shook your head. Reluctant to obey his orders.

“Tf did you say?!” He yelled and pointed his gun at your head. You trembled and nodded before getting into position, bending over the couch. Your pussy bare for his eyes.

He hummed in satisfaction and ran his hands over your ass before positioning himself to your entrance. You bit your bottom lip and buried your face into the couch cushions. Just wanting to get over with it already.

He pushed into you with a satisfied groan and started fucking you. “Fuckkkk…. You feel so good… so tight…” his hips were ruthless. Thrusting into you at an inhumane pace. You gripped the couch and held back your moans, not wanting him to hear how good you felt.

He grabbed the back of your throat and pulled your head. “Poor little thing, getting turned on by some stranger fucking her… your pussy is sucking me in so well, sweetie …” he chuckled gruffly in your ears. His hips, pounding you into the couch.

“N-no… I don’t want-“ his leather glove covered hands covered your mouth tightly.

“Take it like a good fucking girl, you hear me?”

You nodded and cried harder. His thrusts were starting to get sloppy and uncoordinated.

Felix wrapped his hand around your neck tightly, pulling you closer to his body as he whispered in your ear. “Little Whore got such a good cunt… im gonna fill you up good sweetheart… gonna make you full with my cum…”

you gasped for air and shook your head, your ways stained with your tears and drool.

He chuckled darkly. “How cute.. i like it when you act all pathetic and des- desperate…” he choked up in between when he felt you clench around his length. “You keep denying the pleasure, but your pussy is saying otherwise,”

you felt defeated at that moment. No matter what you did or how much you protested, he still didn't listen to you.

Felix pressed your face into the couch cushions and gripped your hips tightly as he was getting closer and closer to his orgasm. “God damn-“ he groaned loudly. His balls tightening and his cock twitching. 

He pulled you down onto the ground and grabbed your jaw so you were looking up at him. His other hand worked quickly on his cock. Before you could comprehend anything, ropes of his creamy white cum landed on your face. Felix moaned loudly; the slight timbre in his deep voice sent shivers down your spine.

He breathed heavily and looked down at your cum covered face and smirked triumphantly, slapping your cheeks with his cock before pushing his thumb in your mouth. “Glad you took it well…” 

“Baby, I hope I wasn’t too rough; I'm really sorry if I hurt you” felix was gently cleaning you up after “returning” a few minutes later. He was careful with you, not wanting to hurt you in the slightest bit. “Im really fine, lix…” you said softly. “It was fun; I had so much fun!” He sighed. “I hate being like this towards and yk that! I only did this because you begged me to! Next time I'm never doing this, okay? I hated seeing you cry…” your heart softened at your boyfriend’s words but pouted when he said he wouldn’t do this ‘roleplay’ ever again. “Don't give me that pout! You know I can't resist it…” 

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[grimmsbride]

KINGDOM HEARTS [ daisuke / reader ]

sneaking contraband on the tulpar was totally worth it, especially when you got to share it with the person you’ve been pining for.

tags / pre-crash | reader & daisuke are the same age & she is also swansea’s intern (original i know). | not connected to the past daisuke fics | heavy mentions of weed but more specifically weed pens. i know it’s not accurate to the timeline nor the job, but if you’re looking for complete accuracy in a smutfic i don’t know what to tell you | weed sex | sloppy oral sex | fingering | daisuke is heavily ooc. this is done purposely given he’s literally smoking. if that’s an issue i’m sorry | soft-dom daisuke | hes very mouthy & kind of desperate | mutual pining | coworkers to more?.. | unrealistic descriptions of weed & sex | etc

notes / given it was mentioned daisuke liked to party back home (and also drink) i thought him smoking was right up his alley. also i feel like with weed or alcohol he definitely isn’t as insecure? idk how to word it but yeah that was my thought process. as always please excuse any typos & grammar mistakes

You never thought you would be ontop of a freighter, dedicating time to listening to some old man drone about machinery whilst in the middle of space. But alas, here you were; inside a ship known as the Tulpar, under the watchful gaze of Pony Express. You should be thankful, not everyone has the same opportunities as you. Back home, you could name quite a few people that would kill for your position.

You couldn’t resist your reluctance, though. Leaving everything behind for several months was more stressful than people believed. A constant routine, consistently having to be proper given this wasn’t home— it was work. Not having your usual comforts of tv, the outside, hell even your vibrator.

At least you remembered the most important thing of all— your weed pen.

It wasn’t a hard task, as you were given the most natural hiding place above the waist; and you were able to sneak extra cartridges between your clothes. A full-proof plan, really. The only issue was finding places to smoke it.

You couldn’t always hole up in your room, duties called after all. So usually you took a few hits in the bathroom, using the excuse of steam to mask the smoke. Or other times you would take a quick hit when the living room was free; the blown up screen a perfect trance for your little high.

No one seemed the wiser, not even your fellow intern; Daisuke, someone you’ve grown to enjoy being around. Despite being the same age you simply weren’t so sure he would be into that type of thing. He looked far too.. innocent. Surely an annoying term to use for a grown man, but still— what else could you say?

Like any other day it was packed with chores, tasks stacking on-top of each other with no end in sight. You tried to be as friendly as possible, but with your secret craving and exhaustion playing at the back of your mind you were sure you came off a little snappy at times.

You would apologize later, possibly blaming it on the stuffy feeling of the ship or worse — your period.

Either way, much to your pleasure, the day had ended; leaving you in the comfort of your bedroom. Sitting on-top of the plush sheets you leaned over to sift through your nightstand, fingers soon coming into contact with a slender, metallic piece. You rose, bringing your pen with you and looking at the contraption with such love.

Your last piece of sanity. As dramatic as it seemed.

Routinely you brought the mouthpiece to your lips, forming around it and taking a slow hit whilst your thumb pressed against the button. Pulling it away, you allowed the smoke to sit— eyes closing to really take it in.

So focused on your relaxation you hadn’t even realized footsteps were approaching your bedroom until it was too late.

“Hey [Name] you wanna play this board game? Anya do—“ The door was opening before you could even respond, causing panic to rush towards your chest. In the midst you began to cough, throat straining as ugly wails escaped; struggling to catch your breath.

Through a blurry gaze, your eyes landed on the culprit of your chaos; spotting Daisuke glancing at you oddly for a moment.

“Are you uh… Do I smell weed?”

“No!”

You managed to let out, followed by wet gasps. Very, very convincing. Your attention turned to the water bottle on-top of your nightstand, snatching it quickly and taking a swig. The cool liquid soothed your throat just a bit, allowing you to relax from the attack.

Slowly you calmed down, taking a deep breath and releasing; all under the gaze of Daisuke, who sported a small grin.

“I know what weed smells like [Name]. And how weed coughs sound.”

You slowly set your water bottle back down, eyes taking the other in with a harsh squint. For a moment the two of you stared at each other silently before you sucked your teeth, letting out a whisper-yell of close the door!

Daisuke was quick to listen, shutting the door closed and crossing your bedroom in record time. He found a spot on the edge of your bed, watching in awe as you pulled a thin device from underneath your sheets. He giggled gently, as if already riding the cloud; leaning his head onto his shoulder.

“How did you even sneak that in?”

“I have my ways Daisuke.” You winked, attention turning to your beloved weed pen. It was a simple white color with a pink rim around the actual button. Small but deadly, given the amount that was inside the device. Plus it didn’t help you had switched cartridges recently.

Your focus then turned to the man, “Wanna hit?”

Daisuke’s eyebrows rose, a nervous laugh escaping him before nodding.

“Hell yeah.”

He leaned over, grasping the pen from your fingers delicately and glancing at it. The intern spun it between his fingers for a moment, gaze turning back to you the moment you spoke;

“You know how to take it, right? Don’t waste my weed.”

“Watch..,” Daisuke brought the piece up to his mouth, lips wrapping around it gently as his thumb pressed against the circular button. With ease he was breathing it in, pulling the pen back— holding the smoke for a moment, before releasing it.

“..— See? I know what I’m doing.”

He certainly does.. You thought to yourself, suddenly growing a bit hot. You sat up, legs crossing as you reached for your pen.

“I’m impressed, didn’t take you for a smoker.”

Daisuke shrugged, a lazy smile on his face as he laid across your bed. His elbow dug into the plush mattress, a soft cheek resting to his palm.

“I only did it recreationally, at parties and stuff.”

You hummed in response, slightly entertained by the reveal of such information. Daisuke had subtly mentioned before his activities but you didn’t always believe him. He just didn’t seem like the type. More like a little fawn desperate to gain the approval of his superior, not some party animal. But, looks were deceiving after all.

Especially when said fawn was hitting your pen way better than you did.

You pressed your lips to the pen, tapping it there for a moment before a question crept from your throat;

“You know any tricks?”

Daisuke pursed his lips a bit, slowly shaking his head. You were quick to smile, bringing your finger up.

“I know this one, watch.”

With that you were taking a hit, bringing the pen down to your lap. Daisuke focused on you, watching intently as you.. mouthed? He hadn’t a clue what you were attempting to do, nor was he sure you did either— given you suddenly pushed the smoke from your mouth, quick coughs escaping you.

The man was quick to laugh, grinning ear to ear as a flush of red spread across tanned skin. You struggled for breath, little tears threatening to spill as you held your finger back up.

“I got it, I got it!”

You were desperate to show off, even if it risked getting far too high. You lifted the pen back up, taking another strong hit before dropping it back to your lap. You started off strong, breathing the smoke in— struggling not to giggle when you heard Daisuke small sounds of encouragement.

Yet as strong as you started you failed all the same, doubling over to cough into your blankets; cheeks hot the moment you noticed Daisuke practically falling off your bed with laughter.

“How were you worried about me wasting it?”

“Shut up!” You huffed, though snorting. You could nearly curse yourself for not sharing your little secret sooner. As much as smoking was a delight, it was even better doing it with someone else. Especially someone as fun as Daisuke.

You slowly rose from your position, taking deep breaths to relax as you glanced at the man who was currently doing the same.

“Okay, so.. I don’t know a trick.”

Daisuke gave a really? expression, quickly raising his hands when you tossed a pillow in his direction. Pulling the plush item down to his lap with a playful huff, the man watched as you lifted the pen again.

“But.. I do know this one thing.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

You gave a playful smile, “Shotgunning. You know, passing smoke back and forth.”

His shoulders seemed to straighten, sitting up tall and laying his hands onto the pillow in his lap. An unreadable expression crossed his features, hands crossing to allow his fingers to glide across his silver rings.

“I know what that is.”

Your eyebrow rose, though silently taking in the information. Whether a buzz of jealousy or excitement trickled down your spine, you will never known; as it was quickly washed away with warmth. One such sensation that collected at the pit of your stomach the moment Daisuke reached over for the pen.

“It’ll be better if I do it first.”

The man softly explained, to your puzzled expression. You slowly nodded in turn, watching as he brought the pen to his mouth. A single moment passed before he even took a hit, maybe allowing you time to back out. But you didn’t, watching intently as the man sucked in the smoke— eyes flicking to you with slightly puffed cheeks.

That was your cue. You shuffled from your spot at the head of your bed, coming close enough that your knees were practically touching. You pressed down on the bed to steady yourself, lips parting carefully. Daisuke drew closer, just a breaths away, yet lips not touching. His eyes glanced from your own to your lips, a soft grumble of disapproval rolling at the back of his throat.

Before you could think you felt his fingers tracing your chin, a thumb pressing against the space.

“Like this..” He said rather tight lipped, widening your mouth carefully. Once satisfied Daisuke blew the smoke from his mouth to your own, watching as the white cloud rolled in flowing tendrils, filling your senses the moment it made contact.

You sucked it in, shivering at the sensation and rather heated exchange. You’ve always imagined shotgunning to be rather.. intimate. You were sharing smoke with someone, after all. But, intimate just didn’t seem like a fitting word. At all. This was something beyond it, completely.

As the moment the smoke was touching your tongue, it was as if you could spot Daisuke’s thoughts sprawled across his forehead. Never mind the way those pretty, almond— slowly reddening eyes took you in far too intently.

You backed away a little, releasing a heavy breath straight from your chest. You glanced down before allowing your gaze to land upon the other intern, spotting his eyes already fixated upon you.

“You wanna go again?”

You tried not to nod so excitedly, but with the smoke clouding your focus and the absolute want running through your body— you were sure you looked like an idiotic bobble head. Daisuke either was too high to notice or decided against it anyway, as he was passing your pen back in record time, sitting up and watching.

You took the pen, mirroring his previous movements. Allowing the pen to fall in your lap after, you leaned a bit closer— just as Daisuke did the same. Only this time it was far too close. Your lips briefly touched, only for a moment almost unrecognizable. Yet, you both knew the other felt it.

You decided to ignore it. It meant nothing, right? Simply an accident bound to happen.

You parted your lips, a soft sound escaping as you blew the smoke into his mouth, watching Daisuke consume it eagerly. Sucking up each puffy white cloud under your watchful gaze, he allowed it to dance upon his tongue for a moment before blowing it right back into your mouth.

Just as he closed the distance between the two of you.

You groaned softly, eyes pinched closed as the high of the weed and his lips ran through your entire body. You felt it all the way from your head, to your toes; nerves on fire, as if ready to burst. You were quick to grab him, needing an anchor as the bold kiss quickly muddled your brain. Your fingers curled into his half-dyed hair, twirling soft tresses between the digits and tugging.

Daisuke whimpered right into your mouth, a sound that caused your legs to squeeze and eyebrows to furrow. You felt him moving for a moment before his hands were tracing your body; one finding your waist while the other gently grasped the back of your neck. There, with a tiny push, the man deepened the kiss— tugging you even closer by the waist.

Your arms stretched out, linking around his neck and meeting his eagerness wholeheartedly. You were pleasantly surprised by the sudden 180 of his personality. You especially didn’t take such a clueless, seemingly naive man to be such a good kisser.

But here you were, under his mercy— barely able to keep up with the sloppy lip locking. And with each squeeze of your waist, your mind was spiraling further and further. Again, you could only curse yourself for withholding the weed for this long.

“Wa..wanna touch you..” The words were pushed against your lips so messily you nearly hadn’t heard. Except, they fell from Daisuke’s mouth again; only this time not as muffled given he was pulling away from your lips. His forehead pressed against your own, alternating squeezes on your neck and waist, heavy breaths causing his chest to rise and fall.

“You wanna touch me?”

“So..so bad. I have for a while.” The words came out in drawl as if he was drunk rather than high, red eyes lifting from your lap to your own. “Please, let me?”

He was so desperate, Daisuke’s usual personality peeking through his high facade. The only thing missing was his hands clasped together and whimpers. It was a sight you enjoyed, devouring it greedily with your eyes.

Instead of speaking you slammed your lips back to his own, hands reaching to find his wrists. Once doing so you made his hands drag from your shoulders, down your tummy, hips, and thighs— back and forth, back and forth.. teasing him. It seemed to work as the kiss got even more desperate, his fingers twitching under your hold.

And the moment you released his wrists, Daisuke was all over you— only this time he had full control. The man made quick work of fitting his fingers underneath the shirt you wore, warm digits spanning across your soft stomach. They then rose, flinching the moment they came into contact with your naked breasts— yet eagerly grasping them; cold silver rings digging into your hot flesh.

You sighed into his mouth, grasping his arms and slowly lowering yourself onto your back, pulling him on-top of you. Little sparks of pleasure danced down your spine as he squeezed your breasts, pushing up your shirt to reveal your chest to the muddy air.

The two of you parted, a sticky string connecting your bottom lips together— which broke the moment his head lowered, lips finding a breast. A sloppy kiss was stamped right against your nipple, the swollen bud soon being enveloped by his warm mouth. You stifled a sweet moan, hands finding its place back in his hair, tugging as his tongue swept and circled your areola.

You felt spit trickle at the corner of his mouth from all the attention, sucks only becoming more ferocious as time passed. Caught up in the pleasure you hadn’t realized a hand was descending down your body, not until two fingers were tugging your pants enough that his hand fit through.

Daisuke’s fingers spread across your clothed cunt, finding the edge of your panties and tugging it to the side. There, he was free to spread you, revealing your sopping bud to his finger. He dragged his digit up and down for a moment before running little circles onto your clit.

“Dai..daisuke..—“ You whined softly, nails dragging against his scalp as your thighs twitched. “T—take my pants off, please!”

The man smiled right against your chest, though obliged and with your help, pushed your pants and underwear off your body and down to the bottom of the bed. Now free your legs were spreading easily, hissing as his thumb dragged across your clit whilst another digit circled your wet hole.

Daisuke lifted from your chest, watching with reddened eyes as his finger sunk in all the way to the knuckle. Your walls were warm, enveloping and sucking him in greedily. With each breath you were squeezing, making it just a bit hard for him to move. But, Daisuke didn’t plan to give up now, seeing as — with some effort — he was curling the finger, eyes flicking to your face the moment the prettiest moan fell from your lips.

“That felt good..?” The words fell out as a question more to himself rather than you and instead of waiting, the man repeated his action; only this time a little more confident. And once he received the reaction he was looking for — another breathy moan — Daisuke was more than happy to continue.

Your gasps quickly mixed in with the sounds of your wetness, spongy sounds that echoed with each push of his finger. Curling and fingering, you groaned the moment another digit crept, scissoring inside you. Your thighs were closing at this point, getting overwhelmed with pleasure. You’ve touched yourself while high and as fun as it was, this experience was completely different.

You were sensitive, every sensation on hundred with no chance of coming down. Daisuke’s only been playing with you for a moment and already you felt that familiar band deep in your stomach.

In the midst of your pleasure you hadn’t even realized your thighs were nearly shut until Daisuke quickly slid his free hand to your thigh, pushing and spreading you open.

“I wanna see.”

He said far too calmly, eyes flicking from your face and back to your pretty cunt. Daisuke couldn’t helped but be entranced, watching his fingers disappear and reappear, coated in your arousal. The man swore under his breath, nails dragging against your thigh. He wondered if.. you would let him get a taste? The thought alone nearly made him come in his pants, eating you out just seemed like the second best thing to sharing that weed with you.

Without thinking Daisuke’s face was lowering to your cunt, mouth parted as bated breath fanned against your slick slit. With no warning his tongue was stretching, licking at your bud— quickly glancing at your face for a reaction. He was pleased to see your glossy red eyes and swollen lips open as a pretty gasp escaped your throat. Your fingers tugged at his hair so desperately, back arching as the man’s tongue swiped against you once again— only dragging the thick muscle, allowing you to feel its entire length.

“Please, please..!” You hadn’t a clue why you were pleading, but it seemed Daisuke did— given he repeated that action once more, circling the tip of his tongue along your clit. Little tears threatened to spill from your eyes, hips lifting and grinding into his face; which only resulted in an encouraging squeeze on your thigh.

Moments of this intense pleasure passed before you were practically sitting up, struggling to stifle the harsh moan that escaped you. With a squeeze around his fingers you were coming undone, coating his face with your mess. Daisuke was far too happy to lap you up, cleaning you throughly and refusing to waste a single drop.

Eventually you had to push at his forehead to get him away, groaning as the sensitivity playing at your aching cunt. Reluctantly the man pulled away, pulling his fingers from within you and rubbing his hand across your thigh— soothing you.

“Hopefully you didn’t wake the others.” Daisuke hummed with a small grin, chuckling at the frown you sent his way. He moved to hover above you, leaning onto his forearm and planting a wet kiss to your lips. You mewled from your own taste; hands trailing to tickle the back of his neck.

“We should have done this a long time ago..”

You murmured softly, hearing his own grumble of approval. The kiss continued until you pulled away, hands trekking down to cover his cheeks.

“Daisuke.. as much as I want to continue.. I’m really, really hungry.”

Taking your words in for a moment, the man couldn’t help but release a short laugh, patting the side of your thigh as he sat up from his hovering.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

With that promise, Daisuke was adjusting his clothes before waltzing towards your bedroom door, opening and exiting — probably off to snatch something from the Tulpar’s kitchen.

You certainly hopped no one was awake to notice his red eyes and extremely wet face.

[azsazz]

In Safe Arms (Part 2)

Bodyguard!Azriel x Celebrity!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Hey ! Ik u are hella busy and I am so proud of ur for ur publication , but if u ever get time could u do a Celebrity reader x bodyguard az?

Warnings: A little PTSD for reader alluding to a horrific incident but not much described besides blood.

Word Count: 3,702

Notes: Happy New Year my loves!

(Part 1)

_________________________________________

You’re jolted awake at the rocking of your SUV dipping into a pothole.

Your spine straightens on its own accord and your bleary eyes snap open, frantically scanning the space, on high alert. Your heart pounds in your chest as you desperately try to take in your surroundings. Outside the window, there is nothing but darkness, the skies and scenery draped in midnight-hour black.

It takes you more than a second to realize where you are. In the back of an SUV on your way to your parent’s charity gala that you cannot miss. Except that the weather in New York took a turn for the worse, a heavy blizzard that no news stations mentioned before you fell into an exhausted sleep last night. No planes in, and no planes out.

Which meant that you had to find alternative transportation to make it to Chicago before the gala, which meant that Azriel had to arrange safe travel for you to get there on time, his job already on the line from his mistake only days ago.

Not the kiss. Not the weak fucking moment he had in the bathroom of your suite after a passerby tossed an unknown object at you that split the skin above your brow.

Your parents don’t know about the kiss. You tried to convince Azriel that it wasn’t worth telling them, and he tried to convince you that it couldn’t happen again.

His eyes had been hard. He’d been wearing that same stoic mask he showed up on his first day with. “We can’t do that again,” he’d said, like the kiss was transactional. Like he didn’t feel the passion that lit your entire body up, the wanting in your bones.

No kisses have happened in the days since.

Your eyes connect with Azriel’s through the rear-view mirror and the sight of your infallible bodyguard has you relaxing against the warm leather seat, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Azriel says softly. His rough, gravelly tone sharpens his apology.

“It’s fine,” you brush off, but it’s not fine. Nothing that has anything to do with you is ever fine.

Silence takes over the car. He hasn’t even turned on the radio to keep him company while you slept. You frown at the thought, then realize that silence is probably what Azriel is used to, what he prefers.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” you admit.

Azriel’s gaze stays focused on the road, not another vehicle in sight. “You needed it,” he defends, and you shrug.

“Where are we?”

“A few hours away from the Ohio border,” Azriel answers. You glance at the neon glow of the clock. It reads just past one in the morning, which means that you still have seven or so hours of driving to go, depending on how bad the road conditions are.

You’re supposed to be in Chicago by ten a.m. for brunch with your parents and the charity director for the gala, but with all of the delays that have happened since New York, you’d much rather spend as much time as you can away from the crazy normal that is your life. This unexpected road trip feels like a breath of fresh air that you didn’t know you needed.

You squint, peering around the passenger seat. The roads are clear from snow, piled high on the sides of the highway, but that doesn’t mean that there can’t be patches of black ice to look out for.

You decide to keep Azriel company. You don’t want to be sleeping the night away peacefully while he navigates through four states to get you back to your parents. You know for a fact that he’s gone days without speaking a single word nor getting an ounce of sleep, but right now, with the dark of night blanketing the car, it feels cruel.

Azriel protests when you unbuckle and climb over the console, claiming the front passenger seat. His hands are white-knuckled around the steering wheel and he tries to keep his focus on the road, though you do catch him sneaking a protective peek over at you more than once. It makes you want to snort with amusement, there’s no threat here, unless he hits a patch of aforementioned black ice, but you trust Azriel with your life, so you should be fine.

And you are. Azriel’s shoulders don’t lose a strand of tension until your buckle slides locked with a click. Even then, he can hardly relax. “You shouldn’t be up here.”

“And you shouldn’t be driving this late at night,” you retort easily, kicking your feet up on the dash. Azriel’s hand comes down over your knee before you can fully prop up your legs, guiding you in a gentle yet stern matter to keep your feet on the floor. You follow his command so that he doesn’t banish you back to the back seat.

He hardly acknowledges you, focusing on the task at hand. Delivering you in one piece to Chicago in time to arrive at all of your scheduled meetings. He will not fail your family a second time.

With his focus pinned on the road, you drink your bodyguard in. His eyes flicker from the rearview mirror to the side mirrors to the windshield in meticulous rotation. You trail your gaze down the straight slope of his nose to his pink, plush lips. You haven’t stopped thinking about his mouth on yours since the desperate kiss you shared in your hotel room two nights ago, and a warm heat coils low in your stomach at the memory, waking you up.

“You look tired,” you murmur, distractedly. He does. The gray circles under his eyes aren’t the only thing giving Azriel’s exhaustion away. It’s in the way he blinks slowly, but forces his eyes wide. It’s in the way he drums his fingers against the steering wheel for something to focus on other than the road. It’s in the empty cup of coffee stacked on his old ones. He’s stopped thrice tonight for a caffeine boost and you slept though them all. He’d be jonesing for another if you hadn’t climbed up into the seat beside him. His entire body is tightened with alert now that you’re here.

He isn’t tired, he’s wired. Three large black coffees might have been too much, but it’s your presence that has Azriel more alert than anything. His skin heats at the feeling of your eyes on him, can feel every movement you’re making from across the console.

He taps his fingers against the wheel to expel the nervous energy. You wonder what’s going on because Azriel’s resolve never cracks like this. Everything was fine when you were in the backseat, asleep. He didn’t have to interact, possibly mislead you. He was free to dig into his mind, overthink every little thing that’s happened between the both of you since this little journey began.

He knows you too well. He has to. He’s read your file, like he does with all of his clients. Somehow, you’ve managed to worm your way into his mind, deeper than a flesh wound.

“I’m fine,” he assures. He rubs a hand down his jaw, the short stubble tickling his skin. He needs to shave.

“We should stop for the night,” you protest, catching glimpse of a sign on the side of the highway that shows that you’re only a few miles away from a town to get gas and sleep.

“We need to be in the city early,” Azriel refutes. He chances a glance over at you. Your arms are crossed over your chest and you’re wearing that stern, determined look on your face that makes his cock twitch in his pants. He keeps himself carefully still. “We don’t have time to stop.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that we stop for the night, Azriel,” you reply. “I was telling you that we are going to stop for the night.”

He should protest, he knows that he should. He doesn’t know anything about this town, if it’s filled with lunatics or people who’d try and harm either one of you for your expenses. The decked-out, expensive SUV is a sign screaming rich.

You don’t remove your glare from him until he veers the vehicle onto the exit ramp.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“I’ll take the chair,” Azriel says, eyeing the single bed in the room. “I won’t be sleeping anyway.”

Your nose scrunches. You stare at the chair for a long second and return your gaze to Azriel’s. The entire point of stopping for the night was to rest, to let the storm that caught up to you play out and hopefully finish the drive with clearer conditions.

Something clenches in your chest. You’re not sure if it’s your heart or your stomach or both.

He won’t sleep because there is only one bed.

“So, you’re going to sit in that chair,” you repeat like you don’t understand. You don’t, and you point to the faded green armchair. The rests are made of a blonde wood and the back of the chair sits so straight that there’s no chance anyone could actually fall asleep in it. “And do what? Watch me sleep?”

His jaw sharpens, the muscles flexing as he clenches his teeth. His hazel eyes follow the point of your finger for a fleeting second before returning to yours.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s watched you sleep.

“I’ll turn the chair toward the window,” Azriel answers like this is a solution. If it makes you uncomfortable, he will even wait in the car.

The real solution would be for him to get in the fucking bed with you and sleep for a few hours. You saw the stack of empty coffee cups in the car. You saw the strain in his posture, the way he was forcing himself from giving into his exhaustion.

A disbelieving noise crawls up your throat. He’s so fucking stubborn. It’s not like you’re both eighteen and the prospect of touching looms over you. No, you’re both adults. You’ve seen him sans clothes, even if it was an accident, and Azriel has been in the room with you during fittings with designers your father fully didn’t trust. He may have been turned toward the window, you toward the mirror, but there was always the thrill that maybe he’d peek over his shoulder, give you a long once-over, that maybe some sort of want would infiltrate his hard, hazel eyes.

You’ve imagined it more than once.

“Azriel,” you scold. You busy yourself with moving your luggage to the empty desk in the corner. The table wobbles as you set your things on it, but it stays upright. You quickly move back toward the bed and tug the blankets back, doing your best to reign in your cringe as you think about the possibilities of what could have gone on in this dingy motel room on the side of the interstate. You’re used to luxurious, five-star hotels catering to your every need, not rundown motels that reek of mothballs and crime.

Ghosts. Are there ghosts?

“We stopped here specifically so you could sleep,” you try to argue, but you sound distracted, and Azriel’s gaze snaps to yours, his shoulders straightening like he’s going into protective mode.

He catches you staring dazedly at the bed. Your fingers are curled tightly into the blankets, lips pressed together tightly. Your chest is rising and falling more quickly, and he rounds the bed, coming to your aid.

Azriel knows the life you’re used to living. What you must be thinking about a place like this. He could say something mean, mention how spoiled you are, how it’s just like the hotels you usually stay in, minus the amenities. He wants to tell you that people have done worse things in nicer rooms, especially the ones you tend to stay in, but he knows that your frozen features are due to something else, a dark memory that edges up every once in a while.

“Let me get you some fresh blankets,” he murmurs. His hand comes down around your wrist gently, drawing you slowly from your daze. The heat of his body sears through the thin fabric of your pajamas, and you latch onto that as you squeeze your eyes shut and force the memories away.

“No,” you choke, sounding much more put-off than you’d like. Azriel knows your past, you remind yourself, he knows everything about you, this isn’t you looking weak. You’re only human. “It’s fine, I—” you swallow roughly as a smatter of red conjures behind your eyelids. You try hard not to flinch, but it’s there, the blood on the walls like some fucking mural.

You look down at your hands, painted with the same crimson. Your clothes, and as you drag your eyes up to the bed—

“Hey,” Azriel snaps, hand planted firmly on your cheek, tearing you from the awful memory. You blink and your eyes latch onto his worried hazel ones. You didn’t even notice Azriel turning you around, how your hand went from clutching the sheets to fisting in his black button down. “You’re not there, you hear me?”

You nod because your throat is too tight to do anything else. Tears brim your eyes and Azriel wipes an escaped drop that drags down the apple of your cheek. His touch is too soft, too tender.

You pull away, ripping yourself from his hands. You turn toward the bed and don’t allow the dreadful recollection another thought. You slip between the sheets and try to hide your trembling movements by tugging the blankets all the way up to your chin.

You can feel Azriel’s presence behind you. You always can, whenever he’s in the room. It’s like the two of you are magnets. There is an attraction to him that you can’t place.

He knows that you won’t be sleeping now. That the harrowing memory of what you’ve been through lingers in the surface of your mind and if you should fall asleep, it will only haunt you worse.

Azriel’s known about your past, the terror that you’re trying so desperately to run from, to forget. It chases you like death is on your heels, ready to grip you with its bony fingers and drag you into the dark. He’s been briefed on how you might respond when the trauma inevitably claws its way back, but this is his first time experiencing it happening to you. How it grips you around the throat and threatens to consume you.

His jaw aches from grinding it so tight. The one thing that he can’t protect you from is the one thing he wants to protect you from the most.

He has a job, and this is part of it, he tells himself as he kicks his shoes off.  

“Shove over.”

“What?” You ask, confused. You peer over your shoulder to see Azriel shrugging off his jacket. It leaves him in a black t-shirt that clings to his body exactly the way you want to. You never thought you’d be jealous of a piece of clothing, yet here you are. You carefully tear your gaze away.

“You need to sleep and I know your stubborn, spoiled ass isn’t going to do it if I’m not doing it with you” he pauses. That sounded so fucking wrong, but Azriel trudges on. “So, shove over.”

You fight the smile that threatens to curve your lips at his comment. If it was coming from anyone else, you’d be offended, but you know that Azriel doesn’t mean it as anything other than a joke. You scoot further toward the edge of the bed, shivering at the cool sheets. Your goosebumps only prickle further when Azriel’s weight hits the mattress, and the warmth of his body washes over you.

You try not to let your breathing shallow as he settles himself in. He’s not even touching you, for Mother’s sake, and yet you’re responding as if you’re a teenager lying beside her childhood crush.

“Don’t think about it,” Azriel’s voice startles you.

You might smile at the rough demand in Azriel’s tone if you weren’t feeling like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for someone to come up behind you and shove you off.

“Easier said than done,” you mutter. When the light flickers out, your body locks, and the memory explodes in your mind like a fucking gunshot wound.

“I said, don’t think about it.” Azriel’s voice is a gruff command in your ear, snapping you back into reality. Your heart is pounding against your ribcage, and you can hear the struggle in your lungs as you try to gulp down what little air makes it through your constricting esophagus.

Hands wind their way around your waist and you don’t have a second to struggle before Azriel tugs you back into his chest, molding his body against your back. A warm, heavy arm is draped across your side, and his hand finds your shaking ones beneath the blankets, offering you a lifeline.

You clutch onto him. Azriel murmurs softly in your ear but you can’t make out the words. They’re in a different language. French or Italian or Spanish, you think. You sure that if he was speaking English, you still wouldn’t understand with the way that you’re focusing on fighting past the demons in your head.

The room is pitch black. You always sleep with a light on, even if it’s just the screen of your phone lighting up the darkness. You haven’t been in a blackened room like this since that night, and Azriel knows it, which is why, with some maneuvering, he turns on the flashlight on his phone and sets it on the bedside table, illuminating the room in an awful white light that has you all but melting into his body.

“Thank you,” you whisper. It sounds much too loud in the quiet of your motel room.

“Go to sleep,” he answers plainly. His bluntness almost makes you smile.

But you can’t go to sleep, and not just because of the lingering aftershocks of your memory. As those slowly eke away, you focus on the feeling of Azriel’s body pasted tightly against yours.

You swear you can feel every muscle that is packed onto his hard body through your clothes. Your ass is nestled against his front, and you want to wiggle oh-so badly, to writhe against him in the hopes of feeling what he’s working with down there.

He’s still fully clothed, you notice. Didn’t think twice about climbing into the bed behind you to console you. You wonder if he’s uncomfortable before realizing that with his military trained past, he must have slept in worse conditions than this before.

Which makes you cringe. Here you were, freaking out about a fucking motel when there are people who are going through much worse. Embarrassment flares your body and you squirm uncomfortably.

Azriel’s arms lock tighter around you, and he tugs you closer. You didn’t think there was a closer, but there is. His breath fans across your ear when he speaks. “If you keep moving like that, we’re going to have a lot more than a blizzard and stiff fucking sheets to worry about.” He sounds callous, but there’s a strain to his tone, one that has all of the fiery feelings in your veins converging between your thighs.

Your movements halt immediately. “Sorry,” you say, but there’s no sleeping now. Not when his words are out there, hanging in the air. That if you kept moving, you’d have a different kind of stiffness to think about. One that you’re much more interested in than the starchy sheets.

You close your eyes anyway, trying to fight off the interest stirring low in your gut. The image of Azriel naked, rolling on top of you drifts into your mind. Your pussy clenches when he slowly parts your legs and flashes you a devious smile before lowering himself between your legs.

Movement has your eyes jolting open. You’re holding your body so tightly that Azriel would be terrible at his job if he didn’t know that you weren’t asleep like you should be.

“Sleep,” Azriel reminds you brusquely. His hand splays across your stomach, his thumb stroking across the soft fabric of your shirt in a soothing motion, or what would be a soothing motion if you weren’t three seconds from creating the foulest dirty thoughts about him or two seconds away from actually doing something about it.

“Okay,” you breathe, trying to force annoyance into your words instead of the arousal that slips out anyway. Azriel’s thumb falters and you swear you feel something against the curve of your ass twitch. Your breath catches in your throat and now you know that the movement against your hind wasn’t a part of your imagination.

The noise you let slip has blood pooling into Azriel’s cock. He refuses to move, refuses to do anything except squeeze his eyes shut and practice the techniques he learned in the Royal Marines to keep himself in fucking check. He promised that after the kiss in the bathroom that he would keep away from you, that this relationship would stay professional only.

Professional feels so fucking far away from this.

You find the courage to whisper. “Azriel?”

He grunts in response, to let you know he’s awake and listening, and you like the sound all too much. “That doesn’t sound like sleeping.”

“I’m not sure that I can,” you admit.

Azriel sighs softly, his breath tickling your neck. “You didn’t even try,” he answers simply, but his fingers begin tracing a soft, soothing pattern across your forearm. You latch onto his hypnotic touch, wishing it would move further south. “Just think of better things. I’m here, and you’ll be alright.”

I’m here, and you’ll be alright. Because he’s your bodyguard, your protector, and he won’t ever let anything happen to you, mentally or physically.

You shut your eyes and think about those words, the soft touch from a man so callous and strong, long until you fall asleep.

[yawnderu]

Cat and Mouse — König x Reader

CW: porn with barely any plot, primal play, hunter and prey, rough sex, previous consent, established relationships, anal fingering, König is too in love to fuck you hard, love-making.

A/N: I'm taking a very short break after this one, trying to work on my writer's block and to come up with better ideas. My inbox and dms are always open, I love getting random asks and talking to all of you!♡

The wind blew on your hair as you ran through the woods, barely managing to narrowly miss the trees when you turn back, the giant man chasing after you standing out easily— his imposing figure looking even more intimidating under the moonlight.

His cocky laugh encourages you to run faster, your heart beating in your ears when you hear him start chasing after you again, legs already exhausted from running nonstop for the past ten minutes, never once losing sight of the masked man matter how fast you ran. He was simply faster, with a better stamina that came from being a soldier most of his life. You gasp for air, lungs greedily taking in the oxygen as the world starts to blur out, the muffled sounds of nature around you doing nothing to help as you manage to find the strength to run.

"Get over here!" His loud voice overpowered your surroundings, burly arms wrapping around your waist before manhandling you onto the ground, holding you still no matter how much you tried to kick and scream.

In a pathetic attempt to escape him you throw a punch to his face that connects square on his jaw, the man's grip on you loosening slightly out of shock. You take the chance to try to run away again, barely managing to get on your knees before he's pushing your face down onto the cold, moist soil, the strong smell nulling your senses so bad you don't feel him pulling down your pants until the cold wind hits your bare cunt.

"Caught you, kleine maus." He taunts in a whisper, running one of his gloved fingers up and down your cunt, spreading the wetness all over it before he wets his thumb, pressing onto your puckered hole.

"Wait—" His hand comes down to deliver a hard slap to your ass, the whine of protest you let out doing nothing but make the blood rush faster to his cock. He manages to get his thumb in, fucking it in and out of your ass. You bite your hand in an attempt to muffle your tiny moans, the stimulation of all the nerves being touched by his thick thumb already getting to you, feeling your wet cunt clench around nothing, making the tall man behind you let out an amused, taunting laugh.

"Little mouse likes getting chased around like an animal, ja?" He's clearly trying to get into your head and it's working, not even protesting when you hear his zipper being pulled down, his heavy cock laid out on your ass. König is huge— you've seen it way too many times, felt it way too many times, yet it never fails to surprise you.

"Well, spatzi, you act like an animal—" His words are interrupted by a muffled groan, his cock sinking into you slowly, yet it's so painfully tight he never got used to it. He groaned as he finally bottomed out, a sharp hiss mixing in with your moaning.

"You get treated like one." He finished his sentence, his free hand holding onto the curve of your waist, fingers bruising the skin as he began to thrust into you, movements fast and desperate, your warm insides feeling way too good.

"Fuck— slow down, König." You plead pathetically even when that's the opposite of what you truly want, feeling the tip of his cock slam into the spongy spot of your cunt over and over, whiny moans mixing in with his loud groans and growls.

"No can do, Schatz." You can hear the shit-eating smirk he has under the sniper hood, almost making you smile before he starts to slam his hips into you faster, pulling his cock out all the way before slamming himself back in. You're reduced to a pathetic moaning mess as König drills into your cunt, hitting every single sensitive bundle of nerves along the way to hit your cervix.

He pulls out suddenly, making you feel empty for a second before he manhandles you onto your back, taking a second to admire your pretty, fucked-out face and body. One of his warm hands comes down to cup your cheek, thumb caressing the skin softly before he slowly pushes into you, this time much more gentle. Truth is, König wanted to fuck you. He wanted to fuck you good and hard, yet how can he resist the urge to make love to you when you look up at him with nothing but trust and adoration in your eyes?

"Pretty girl." He muses, holding his weight above you as his hips roll against yours, pushing himself deep inside with every single thrust. He's nothing like before— all the adrenaline from chasing you down fully gone as he simply focuses on making love to you, light blue eyes looking down at you with nothing short of raw devotion. Your legs wrap around his defined waist and he fucks into you harder, one of his gloved hands coming down between your bodies to rub on your hard clit.

"Fuck—" Your back arches, hips moving weakly to meet his thrusts, the double stimulation driving you closer and closer to the edge.

"That's it, my pretty girl." His masked lips are planted on your forehead for a soft kiss, his fingers rubbing faster and faster as he feels his cock twitch, wanting nothing else than to finish inside you.

"Can I come inside, liebling? Want me to fill you up...?" His masked face is buried into the crook of your neck, eyes closed tightly as he tried his best to get your consent before cumming.

"Need— need to cum inside. Fill you up with my babies, please." He was now getting whiny, images of your tummy stretched out carrying his baby with your tits full of milk raid his brain, numbing him out to everything around him other than the way your tight cunt suck him in.

"Yes— cum inside, baby." Your arms wrap around his neck while your thighs hold him on a leg lock, pushing him even deeper into your cunt, not allowing his stuttering hips to pull out much as he ruts into you, his fingers going back to rub your clit, your bodies uniting as one in a display of love and passion, orgasms hitting together like a tidal wave. Your cunt tightens up around him, his balls emptying all the way deep inside you, a low growl coming out of his lips.

He tries his best not to collapse on top of you, managing to pull out slowly and lay down next to you, pulling you closer to him. He takes deep breaths, his big hand gently massaging your scalp before looking down at you, meeting your gaze. You can't see it because of the mask, yet the way his eyes soften and turn into crescents is enough for you to know he's smiling.

[quokkaholic]

Teenage Heaven h.j

Warnings: MDNI, fluffy smut with some plot, alcohol consumption, kissin and touchin, f nipple play, dry humping, cussing duh. Lightly edited

Synopsis: (NOT about teens)Y/n and Han are in the early stages of their relationship and are meeting up in NYC for the first time since you met initially while he is there for work. Despite being long distance, neither of you want to rush into sleeping together, but that doesn’t mean you guys can’t do other stuff to satisfy your cravings.

Song recommendation: Teenage Heaven by Be Your Own Pet

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Han was anxious to tell you that, as much as he wanted to greet you at the baggage claim, it just wasn’t possible, no matter how much he begged staff to allow it. Despite that, he assured you he’s tracking your flight and will be in a car there waiting for you. When the plane lands in NYC, you turn off airplane mode to send a message to Han only to be inundated by messages from him.

“I cant believe i get to see you in a few hours”

“Im scared”

“And excited”

“Mostly excited”

“I can’t think about anything else. Why aren’t you here already?”

“It’s only been like half an hour”

“Im going to squeeze the life out of you”

“You should be scared too”

“I’m getting no work done”

“This is dumb asf”

“I should’ve been camping at your gate since last night”

“Should’ve never left the airport, and just waited there for you”

“You should be landing in an hour and 47 minutes”

“I keep trying to get them to take me to the airport already. They brush me off like im crazy”

“not crazy”

“Maybe for you tho 😉”

“Headed your way! Yuuh!”

“We’re parked outside”

“You landed 2 minutes ago…WHERE ARE YOU?”

“I tried to make a break for it, but staff knows me too well. child lock is on”

You are grinning at the phone screen as you read them, not only because of how adorable it is, but because you feel similarly. You tried to take a little nap on the flight, but your nerves and anticipation kept you wide awake. You let Han know that your plane hasn’t even taxied into the gate yet, but you'll be with him as fast as your legs can carry you.

“What does your bag look like? I could send someone to go get it for you, so you can just come straight to me. I'm already doing it. What color is it? Does it have a tag or anything?” He’s doing everything in his power to get you into his arms as soon as possible.

“I didn’t check a bag, Sungie. I just have my carryon and a backpack, so I can come straight to you ☺️” 

“Perfect. Better run babe”

Typically when you fly, you are one of the last ones to exit the plane, waiting for everyone else to grab their stuff from the overhead bins and trudge through the crowded aisle, but today you were the first one standing. You think people could sense your urgency; no one even tried to hop out in front as you slipped between the seats. Following the signs, you speed walk to the pick up area that Han is parked at. Your eyes are immediately drawn to a blacked out luxury hatchback with a tint as dark as us legally allowed; there's a man standing at the back resting on the bumper, and he waves you over. As you approach you see an almost unrecognizable figure wearing sunglasses, a mask, and beanie with his face smushed up against the dark glass. When you reach the car, the staff member waiting for you opens the trunk, and you go to pick up your luggage to load it, but are thrown off by a shout from the backseat of the vehicle.

“Y/nnah! Get in the damn car!”

You stayed up late last night stressing about this very moment. How would it feel to see him again? What if the connection isn’t there like it was last time? Would it be awkward? Would you two just end up sitting in silence? As you enter the car, you realize your hours of anxiety ridden overthinking were all for nothing. He immediately clings to you pulling you in for a soul warming embrace. You somehow manage to end up simultaneously both be in each other's laps becoming a roiling lump of limbs and love, unable to tear your hands off him. Memorizing how he feels, for those nights where you question if he is even real or just a self indulgent illusion. There are a few shared kisses, but you are holding yourselves back for the sake of the driver and security in the front seat.

Seeing him in person is a bit like seeing a ghost, and it has you and Han both in a state of awe. There is, in fact, a period of dreaded quiet between you and Han, but it's not awkward. It’s one you two share intentionally to bask in your togetherness. You are both but caught up in the moment, unable to believe this truly happened and worked out. Smiling at eachother with rosy cheeks and racing hearts, you train all of your senses on him, barely even noticing the soft sound of the radio in the background. 

You go over what the next few days of your vacation have in store with Han. When planning, initially he pitched going on a date tonight, but after some discussion, you both decided it would be better to have a hotel room date and just order food, so you cans have uninterrupted couple time for the first time.

The hotel is stunning, way fancier than you've ever stayed at. You enter through a back entrance that is arguably more grandiose than the main lobby as it's only used for high profile guests. Han shows you to your suite; his room is only a little down the hall. Opposed to your typical single rooms with a bathroom and a kitchenette, this place is like a luxury apartment: bedroom, living room, dining area, massive bathroom with a bathtub and shower, and a separate toilet room all designed and littered in the most up to date, trendy decor.

“Ji, you didn’t have to do all this. A normal room would have been more than acceptable!”

“Y/nn I know I didn’t have to. I do this because I want to. Plus, I kind of intend to be over here a lot, so I didn’t want it to be too cramped. I also wanted there to be a place we could sit together that wasn't the bed to be… respectful I guess” He can’t hold your gaze as the last part passes his lips. 

“You're so sweet, Jisung” You say as you walk over to him after you dropped your bags. He's cheeks hot and avoiding your eyes; you are drawn to him, possessed to hug and squeeze and never let go. The snuggle pulls Han out of his shyness caused by your compliment.

“That was the first time I’ve heard you say my name in person” He says nuzzling his face into your neck. He snakes his hands around your waist and delivers his promise from earlier; Han squeezes you so hard, like an python, he manages to squeeze tighter and tighter while attacking your neck with quick tight lipped pecks until your back cracks. It startles him a bit, gasping and releasing his hold to grab your shoulders with a look of horror on his face. If you weren’t immediately cackling about it, he would have been worried he hurt you. 

Han was considerate enough to think ahead, and the food was to be delivered soon after you guys arrived at the hotel for an early dinner so you guys could spend the evening together. For now there is nothing to do but enjoy being in each other’s company, and it feels so right. It's tender beyond comprehension, but not overly explicit: gentle kisses and even gentler hands traveling up ticklish sides or through lush hair.  Running your hands up and down his toned arms, you can't help but grab them briefly, feeling his muscles flex under your touch; they have definitely grown since the last time you saw him. You guys slowly start to get more and more comfortable and bold. The soft grazes transition to firm pets, but there is soon a knock on the door. He took your suggestion, and ordered from your favorite restaurant from the last time you were here as well as a bottle of your favorite wine which he must’ve committed to memory from a long passed conversation, as you don't even remember sharing that info. 

Dinner is a dream. The table is by the massive glass sliding doors that lead out to the balcony allowing the city lights to stream in. It goes without saying that the chat is immaculate, but the energy is so familiar and fun. You aren’t worried about eating too much in front of him or talking with your mouth full. Jisung just makes you feel comfortable and admired, like you can just be yourself and he’ll savor every moment. Once dinner is over and the bottle of wine is empty, you two make your way to the couch under the guise of wanting to show you some new music he has been working on, but the intense stares and frequent brushing hands had the tension quite high. He simply turns on some tunes to not be in silence, before your lips find each other. 

The intimacy from early returns tenfold with newly injected sensuality. The firm grips progress to needy grasping, with daring finger dipping under the hems of your shirts, and you find yourselves in a passionate makeout. Although the kiss is hot and lustful, his tongue is timid in its exploration, so soft and gentle as it glides through your mouth, careful to tame his raging desire and not to use too much force. It becomes the sloppy and impassioned kind of kiss you can lose hours to. Your session goes till your lips are swollen and your hair is a mess. You would say the light lip product you had on was gone, but you know exactly where it is, it’s smeared out all over and around your mouths only adding to the kissed raw look. Han’s messy love drunk expression spurs you on, and while traveling your kisses down to his neck, his hands grip your hips to lift and guide you to straddle him. You don’t hesitate to follow his lead.

Settling yourself down onto him, you both let out a small gasp, and you have to fight your instinct to seek friction, but your restraint is short lived. After Ji undoes your bra and helps you remove it from under your shirt, his hands are glued to your breasts gently kneading while intermittently rubbing his thumbs over your nipples drawing soft moans from your lips and little circles of your hips.

You keep trying to give him attention by kissing his shoulders or nibbling on his ear, but he will only let you do it for a moment before he switches his affections back to you. Once you notice the pattern, you pull away for a second, also partially to catch your breath. You ask through pants,

“Am I doing okay? You keep cutting me short,” staring down into his eyes you see no sign of discontent. In fact, at your words his full cheeks tense into a big smile before going back to attacking your neck and mumbling against your skin like he can’t look at you when he admits,

“You just sound too good, Yn. I can’t get enough.”

His words alone make you whimper into his ear causing him to shiver. He begins to move lower, lingering on your collar bones. Licking and nipping. He lightly presses together and lifts your tits to his mouth to kiss them through your shirt. Kissing all over but planting light kisses to your hard bud before switching to the other. He reaches for the bottom hem of your top and looks up to check in before he proceeds.

“This okay?” You struggle to find your words and just nod down to him with your lips pressed together, but he asks again wanting a verbal confirmation from you as he begins to raise your top.

“Feels good baby?”

It would be much easier to respond if he wasn’t giving feather light kissing to your sensitive nipples.

“Yes, Ji. I… I really like it” you say, gasping as he pinches your bud between his top teeth and tongue. Screwing your eyes shut as seeing him look up through his tousled hair with his adoring gaze, mouth connected to your chest, makes you feel like you’re going to melt. You can no longer restrain the involuntary rutting of your hip and decide to just commit. One of Han's hands shoots down to grip your hip tight enough to leave fingerprints and presses you down to grind into him. His previously low and soft moans are rising in volume and frequency being dampened by your skin. Your linen pants are cute and were so comfortable for the flight, but they do little in the way of concealing what you are grinding against. They are so thin that you can target your clit onto the zipper fold of his jeans over the shaft of his hard cock.

With all the work Han has put in with his mouth, it doesn’t take many circles of your hips to get the heat and pressure in your lower stomach to rise. You grab either side of Han's face and remove his mouth as the pleasure was starting to become too much and smash your lips down on his and moan into the kiss. Keeping your pressure firm and rhythm consistent, Han’s breath is trembling, whimpering and whispering your name. His sounds, his words, his touch, it all works together in symphony, and you contract forward to rest your head on his shoulder and groan as the you reach the tipping point and you orgasm radiates through you. As you hold onto him and attempt to ride out your pleasure, the sensation of Han now gripping you with both hands pushing you down on his lap, aiding in your grinding as he fucks up against you have another high crashing over you. His voice is shaky when he finds the ability to speak,

“Fuck. Feels so… I’m gonna…Oh my god”

His rolling of his hips has turned to erratic bucking as he cums hard shuddering, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing like earlier.

“Holy shit. I haven’t jizzed my pants since I was a teen” Han giddily admits with just a twinge of embarrassment, still clinging to you trying to catch his breath.

“This is a first for me! Didn’t know it could even happen” you confess still winded from the pleasure, causing you both to let out weak laughter, neither of you daring to move for a few minutes, just lounging in the afterglow. You guys decide that Han will stay to watch some stuff and if he just so happens to fall asleep here, oh well, right? Getting two rooms was out of respect and consideration, but you both knew you’d end up sleeping in the same bed. He lets you freshen up in the bathroom first, and once you exit, he has a fresh set of clothes in his arms. He must’ve called one of the guys to bring them. 

The rest of the night is filled with endless snuggles and random movies you can find on the hotel channels; the Harry Potter movies always seem to be on TV, so you end up watching two random ones of the series out of order. Han offers to go get his laptop to hook up to the tv, but neither of you care enough to walk the 40 feet down to his room and back. This night isn't about the movies, it's about taking in every moment of being in the same room. You guys end up staying up late flicking through channels, becoming amateur film critics. It's a bit past 1am when Han has the brilliant idea for you guys to go to a convenience store nearby and pick up some ice cream. You are in the city that never sleeps, and you will never turn down an adventure or a sweet treat. He sends a text to Minho claiming he can’t get ice cream without at least offering to get one for his best friend.

“Going to get ice cream. Meet in lobby in 10”

You and Han put on your shoes and coats and share a few more smooches before you can’t for 20 minutes.

“Did Minho respond?”

“No but he read it”

“So..?”

“He’s probably already down there waiting for us”

˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡° ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡° ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡° ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡° ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡° ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡° ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡

A.n- I initially wrote this for a Han fic I was making before I realized that writing long form fanfic was not for me, so there's a bit more plot in this one. Thanks for reading.

-mo 💕

Mastserlist

[aealzx]

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Update Post

Prologue | AO3

Previous Next

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The rest of lunch was filled with more casual chatter, and after somewhat helping Alfred clean up the dishes the group headed for the Batcave. Bruce was quick to wordlessly lift Danny onto his arm again once they got close to the stairs, setting him down carefully close to the main computer as Damian fetched a rolling stool and Tim started to set up the computer for what they needed.

“Don’t feel like you need to rush. If you need a break we can come back to this later,” Bruce assured quietly as Danny gratefully took a seat on the stool.

“Here’s the pen,” Tim was quick to come over as well, holding out what looked like a tablet stylus with a few buttons for Danny to take. “Hold the front button to free draw. And if you want to do straight lines between points just tap the button higher up to switch modes, tap the front button for each point of the lines, and double tap to end the connection on the current line,” he explained, manipulating Danny’s hand to follow the instructions as well as demonstrate the functions.

Danny was surprised to see faintly glowing hologram lines appear wherever the pen tip was when the buttons were pushed, huffing a small giggle in pleasant surprise. “Woah…. So cool,” he commented, impressed by the advanced technology. “Uhm…. So, I guess… the entrance was like this…,” he rambled brokenly, figuring he should just get going and get up to start drawing what he could remember in the open space.

It took him a second to get the hang of the device, and with Tim following him around to be able to make any adjustments Danny requested he ended up getting caught up in the explanations and feeling less scrutinized. His movements were a bit slow as he tried to conserve his energy, and sometimes he had to float to reach where he needed to, but it was a lot more effective than trying to describe what no one else could see.

“The frame is mounted on the wall, and there’s two metal doors embedded in the wall that we can use to somewhat close the portal. It doesn’t block anything that can go intangible, but it keeps humans out and masks the gateway from being easy to find while in the Infinite Realms. There’s a simple alarm light on top that alerts us of any anomalies. And a filtration system on the right side. Which is actually one of the more important parts. Like I said earlier, the portal extends into the wall about… this far. It’s masked by the ectoplasmic energy now that the portal is on, but I looked into it more closely a few months ago. There’s some sort of structure within the tunnel walls that directs the flow of ectoplasm once it’s pulled from the Infinite Realm. It loops on itself, in a spiral, passing through the ecto filter first. The raw ectoplasm from the realm is corrupted, and we use the filter to strip out the impurities. Kind of like separating the different elements of human blood. Then it gets bounced around within the tunnel, hitting eight hot spots here, here, hm,” he hummed for the rest of the points, as he drew circles to mark them, “all before getting pulled back to the middle again, which creates the visual spiral we can see in the portal from the outside. There’s a minor amount of electricity maintaining certain functions, but for the most part it’s self sustained by the ectoplasm.”

At that point Danny had moved around enough his legs were starting to hurt and feel weak, so he plopped back on the stool from before. It seemed to be a good time to take a break anyway, for Wally and Raven were starting to walk around the crude designs.

“...This is a fibonacci spiral…Or at least it’s extremely close,” Wally spoke up first after coming to a stop in front of the diagram again, gesturing to the energy current lines. “And you said the measurements weren’t exact?”

“Yeah. I measured the opening once, and it was very slightly over two meters in diameter. With the tunnel going back about three meters, but also slightly more. I just thought it was because my parents weren’t being careful with the measurements,” Danny confirmed with a tired nod, absently rubbing his leg.

“Or it needed a different measurement system…,” Wally mused, a few thoughts starting to click in his head. “Tim, make the diameter 2.094 meters, and the depth 3.141 meters. Then space out the concentration points to match a fibonacci spiral.”

As Tim tapped on a wireless keyboard to adjust the diagram according to Wally’s direction he squinted slightly. “Two point… Wait, that’s the conversion for four and six Egyptian Cubits respectively. That’s one of the oldest measurement systems.”

“From one of the oldest civilizations known for being rather involved when it came to matters of the dead,” Wally added as a way to confirm Tim had come to the same realization as him.

“Egyptian cubits?” Danielle repeated, scrunching her nose in confusion. “What would that have to do with anything? And why four and six?”

“They’re numbers that different cultures associate with the dead. Four, six, and also eight like the concentration points,” Wally explained, pointing to the different aspects. “Combined with the fibonacci spiral, one of the most common shapes that has often been associated with representing life, and it’s starting to look like this portal is a ritual for life and death.”

“It does,” Raven confirmed with a nod, stepping forward. “The method is old, it’s not really used anymore in modern techniques because of how simplistic it is. It leaves too much up to the one performing the ritual, which means there’s a much larger chance for error. Was this all they had? This was enough for them to get it to work?”

It was a little alarming to hear Raven and Wally imply that the Fenton couple had most likely unintentionally performed a rather old and risky mystic ritual or something instead of just messing with science. But what caused Danny to pause the most was Raven’s question if it had worked. He wasn’t sure he wanted to answer that. He knew he should probably tell them the truth, but he didn’t exactly like talking about that event.

Unfortunately Sam didn’t seem to share his reluctance. “It didn’t work,” she admitted a little too bluntly, causing Danny to flinch. “From what I heard nothing at all happened when they turned it on. It wasn’t until Danny was looking around inside it that it actually activated.”

That revelation caused a few reactions of surprise from the others who didn’t already know, and Danny couldn’t help squeezing his left hand as a faint memory caused it to burn with phantom pain, crawling up his arm.

“Wait- You were inside the portal when it activated?!” Wally burst, gaping at Danny in extreme concern.

It was hard to figure out how to answer without having to fall too far back into the memory of that event, which caused Danny to remain quiet for a stretch of time, pressing his thumb into his palm tightly as his gaze couldn’t focus on anything for the moment. Eventually he forced himself to meet Wally’s gaze, drawing a slightly shuddering breath before answering. “...What?... Did you think I got this way by drinking ectoplasm or something?” he tried to joke, but the tremor in his voice made it fail.

No one seemed to know how to respond to that, realizing that Danny had ended up half dead because of an accident with an unstable lab experiment. Something that Wally was no stranger to himself, but it still something he wasn’t pleased to hear.

With the awkward silence, Jason gave a small huff and strode forward to semi roughly cup his hand on the back of Danny’s head and ruffle his hair a little. “Guess that’s one way to do it,” he muttered, just to break the silence and try to provide some sort of comfort.

With his comment, Raven took that as a chance to voice her own questions. “...Were either of your parents present when it happened?” she asked, confusion prompting her.

“...No, they weren’t even home,” Danny confirmed, feeling defensive in case Raven was going to say something to blame them or something.

She didn’t have anything to say about Jack and Maddie’s actions though, instead falling into an even more confused, thoughtful silence. “...That doesn’t make any sense…,” she muttered absently.

“What’s the anomaly?” Damian asked, prompting her to speak more.

“There was no offer of intent,” Raven responded, looking up and accepting the unspoken direction to explain. “This arrangement is the bare minimum material construction for an inter realm gateway. But because of that there are parts of the ritual that are missing, that still have to be fulfilled for it to work. Mainly payment, and instruction of intent. These days the intent is usually inscribed into the array to facilitate clarity and stability, and the payment is usually in the form of something being added to the array with the intent to sacrifice it.”

“Wait- So all those stereotypes of people being sacrificed to summoning rituals and stuff isn’t baseless?” Tucker sputtered, immediately associating Raven’s choice of words for meaning human sacrifices.

“Living people are one of the highest forms of payment, so unfortunately it can be common to use them,” Raven confirmed. “But even so, there has to be someone else there to express the desire to use them as payment, and determine what for. Which, from what you’ve all explained, there wasn’t anyone there to do so. I can’t imagine any of you wanting to kill Danny, and I doubt he was trying to offer himself since none of you even knew that was a requirement.”

“Hold up- Are you saying the portal only opened because it took Danny as a sacrifice?!” Danielle blurted, subconsciously stepping in front of Danny defensively.

“Excuse me!?” Jazz gasped, also moving forward.

“It’s the only thing that makes sense for what you’re telling me to have worked,” Raven insisted defensively, withdrawing slightly. “If it was a temporary portal I can understand if there was somehow an annulment of payment since the cost is much smaller. But considering the portal has remained open all this time that must mean a standing contract of sorts was established. Especially when we consider Danny’s state as a perfect liminal being. It seems like the Liminal Realm adopted Danny as one of its own in return for allowing a permanent connection to be established. An equal exchange, a link between two realms with a being who represents that connection.”

“That’s impossible,” Danny snapped, rising to his feet again. “I don’t know what realms you’ve worked with, but the Infinite Realms don’t function like that. Getting into them is probably a lot harder than I thought, sure. But there had to be someone there. The realm wouldn’t just…kill me on its own.”

“The realm of Hell is well known for taking the lives of people any chance it can. Especially those who mess around with rituals unknowingly. If you can’t imagine anyone who was there having a clear intent to sacrifice you, then it would have had to have been the realm itself choosing to take you,” Raven explained, forcing herself to remain calm and not trying to be antagonistic.

“Well I don’t know anything about Hell, but out of the two of us I’m pretty sure I know the most about the Infinite Realms,” Danny snapped back, memories of other people not being willing to listen to him about important matters causing him to get quickly irritated from anxiousness. “So when I tell you that it doesn’t operate that way, then believe me. There might not be much in the way of laws inside the Infinite Realms, but that’s because the highest law that the Realm has is that everyone always has a choice.”

“How do you know that for certain?” Bruce asked, his voice much calmer than the others as he was only trying to add data to back up that apparent fact. He was also trying to help the two children break off their argument by giving them another person to address, but it didn’t quite work.

“Because I’m not the Ghost King!” Danny exclaimed, having the brief thought that he should probably settle down and destress as he was rapidly starting to feel dizzy, but being too invested in the conversation to listen to his own mind. He couldn’t allow another misunderstanding about the Infinite Realms to persist. Not again. “Clockwork said we always have a choice, and it listened when I said no- It accepted me saying no, even though that meant there’d be no king. It wouldn’t-...” he broke off as the dizziness suddenly increased, causing him to sway and be unable to keep himself standing as he put his hands to his head. His face felt hot despite the rest of him starting to feel frigid.

Luckily Wally was quick to zip over to him and catch him, pulling Danny close and crouching carefully to help him partially lay down without being on the floor.

“Danny!”

There were several people who called his name out of varying levels of concern, but there wasn’t much they could do without crowding as Dick made it to their side first.

“...His fever spiked,” Dick informed after resting the back of his hand on Danny’s cheek and forehead. Danny didn’t respond, his head was still spinning, but he wasn’t surprised. Stupid him and pushing himself too far. Again.

“S… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stress him out,” Raven apologized readily, her hands gripping each other in front of her.

“We know you didn’t. The conversation simply got out of hand,” Damian consoled as Tim brought the discarded blanket from before over to the others to get Danny bundled up again.

“Yeah well… telling someone they were murdered instead of dying accidentally is kind of a big deal,” Jason pointed out, feeling a bit snippy from his own unsettled emotions.

“Regardless, I think we’ve learned enough to know we should try something else,” Wally spoke up before anyone could react to that comment. “We can problem solve other issues later if needed, but it’s probably best to conclude for the rest of the day.” And to enforce that statement more he scooped Danny up to prepare to take him back up to bed. “Bruce, let’s bypass the Infinite Realms. Do you think they’d be up for having a realm frequency scan at the Watchtower? Maybe this weekend? It’ll probably be better to just try to connect directly to their realm instead of dropping them off in the connecting one.”

It was a good idea from what they had just learned, even if they had originally explored this possibility to try to use something the kids were familiar with. Bruce nodded in agreement. “I’ll make arrangements. Thank you for your time today.”

Nodding back to Bruce, Wally turned to head back up stairs with Dick following to bring the IV pole along. “Alright kiddo, let’s go back to taking a break,” he commented to Danny, who just let out a grumbled noise of annoyance as well as discomfort while shrinking into the blanket. It earned a chuckle from Wally, who could understand the frustration the boy had even if he couldn’t personally relate. “At least you had an actual meal today. I hear you’ve been stuck to bread and broth for now, which totally suuuucks.”

It was idle chatter as they took the stairs, but it did help Danny feel a little less like a weakling. As they left Tim saved the progress they made on the computer, then turned to look at Danielle since she was the easiest to get answers from. “What did he mean by Ghost King? I wasn’t aware that the Liminal or Infinite Realm or whatever had a monarchy.”

“Eh, we didn’t know for a long time either. But since everyone is allowed to make their own choices, a long time ago some ghost named Pariah Dark made himself king because no one could beat him and he was greedy. But a couple years ago Danny kicked his butt, and some people wanted him to be the new Ghost King because of that. He said no though, so now there’s currently an anarchy,” Danielle explained easily, shrugging.

“He said no to being a king?” Jason asked, both confused and mildly impressed.

“Ruling a realm is a lot to ask of a fourteen year old. Especially a realm full of chaotic ghosts who are apparently only there because they were too stubborn to fully die,” Danielle answered, folding her arms with a mild chuckle.

“That, and Danny didn’t think it counted because he was using a suit that enhanced his abilities a hundred fold,” Sam added.

“Over time he’ll probably get to the same level anyway. But the suit disappeared, so it wasn’t like keeping the title from anyone that challenged him would be easy either,” Tucker added on top of the others.

“He had enough to deal with trying to balance school, hiding from our parents, and dealing with the other ghosts causing trouble. He didn’t need to add ruling a realm on top of that,” Jazz enforced, having always agreed with Danny’s decision.

“Smart,” Jason acknowledged, though he wasn’t sure if he would make the same choice. Ditching the rest of highschool to become a king for a realm with very few people actually didn't sound all that bad.

“My turn for a question,” Danielle spoke up, raising her hand unnecessarily and earning some snickers.

“Sure, what’s up?” Stephanie accepted, feeling it was only fair the visitors got to ask their own questions.

“It’s actually more for Raven,” Danielle clarified, pointing to the girl. “Earlier, when we were doing the whole ritual thingy to get ectoplasm, you mentioned that Danny and I are favored by other realms. And just now you said that the ectoplasm was a gift to me from the Infinite Realm, and talked about how the Realm was the one that took Danny. But I thought realms weren’t sentient…… Are they?”

It was a question that mildly surprised Raven, but she was happy to clarify and elaborate further. “No, they’re not actually sentient in the sense that the realm itself has a mind of its own. Realms have often been mentioned to act, or favor someone, or behave in some manner akin to sentience because it’s easier for people to understand in some regards. But really it’s just the result of the cumulative thoughts and emotions of the beings who belong to that realm. The reason you and Danny are favored by the Liminal Realm is more because the people of the realm seem to like you.”

“Wha- really?” Danielle blinked, openly confused despite that explanation also having made some sense. “I always thought most of the people there didn’t like us.”

“Most of the other ghosts do seem to like picking fights with you two when they show up,” Sam agreed, finding it amusing that the Infinite Realm’s people apparently had favorites.

“Well… like is probably not the correct word,” Raven admitted. “They ‘favor’ you in some manner.”

“I thought being a favorite was just a more intense form of liking something,” Tucker countered, that clarification having not mitigated his confusion at all.

“People always have favorites. But they’re not always nice to their favorites. A favorite punching bag, for example,” Raven tried again, this time earning understanding nods and being able to move on. “Now if you’re wondering why you were given a gift from the realm, when someone is a Realm's favorite they're usually bestowed with special privileges and abilities. Like how Superman seems to be pretty indestructible. Batman has some unusually lucky situations. Things like that. Those boons are normally spread between all who are favorites of the realm. But it is possible when there's only one, distinct favorite they could become more akin to that of a god. I’ve noticed that you and Danny have a rather distinct connection to the Liminal Realm that makes me think you’re quite favored in varying regards.”

“Wait, hold on,” Tucker sputtered, realizing something from Raven’s suggestions. “Are you implying that Danny might be getting, I dunno, new powers or something, because the other ghosts really like using him as a punching bag?”

The connection being said aloud earned a barked laugh from Jason and Stephanie, but Raven only gave a slight smile. “Perhaps,” she half agreed. “It’s a potential that could happen based on what I’ve read and heard.”

“HA! Poor kids,” Stephanie snorted, “At least you’re given stuff to fight back with.”

“Yeaaaah being the favorite child is starting to not seem like a good thing,” Danielle chuckled along with her in good nature.

“So…,” Tim started, pulling them back to a connected issue, “Back to the more uncomfortable part of this. Danny being used as a sacrifice to open that portal was essentially because… enough people in the Liminal Realm were aware of him, aware of the event, and willing to use him?”

“That’s… an accurate way to put it,” Raven admitted, though she wasn’t completely sure herself either. “Based on what I’ve heard, and using simple logic, that would make sense. But I don’t know how true it is, since I don’t know what the Realm was like at the time the portal was opened. There could have been a specific person there, it could have been a collective desire… I don’t know. But I’m fairly certain Danny is the reason the portal is open.”

It was a somber thought, but Tucker couldn’t help shuddering as another thought came to mind. “Makes you wonder how Vlad got his portal to work.”

“You say that like you actually believe the man hasn’t already killed someone before,” Sam retorted dryly, unimpressed.

“...Fair point,” Tucker agreed.

“.... Aaaaand Vlad is?” Tim prodded, starting to think this was someone they should know about after that exchange.

“The guy that created me, and almost killed me,” Danielle responded bluntly, expression going decidedly neutral.

“A sick freak that wants to kill Danny’s dad so he can marry his mom and adopt him as his own child,” Sam added, folding her arms.

“...Ooookay. Write that down Tim. We do not make friends with this Vlad guy, and definitely keep him away from these guys,” Stephanie prodded, poking at Tim since he still had the keyboard for the computer, earning a few snickers from the others.

_________________

Iiiii couldn't manage to focus on anything else to work on today, so I ended up catching up on what I had written |D Lot's of headcanon in this one.

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Tag list: @galaxy-sharks-and-bottled-ships, @starscreamlover, @nerdynonnativenarnian, @dragongoblet, @megacharizardx99

@bellathecatastrophe, @cj-ghostemoji-destielpie, @asexual-insomniac, @wolfeyedwitch, @tkiesai, 

@fanaroff, @raven1508, @nebulainajar, @serasvictoria02, @oliocelottafanfics,

@honeysuckletook, @omniithe-deer, @wolf-under-the-stars, @gingernutcalo, @that-random-fangirl,

@op-sys-chaos, @kirasigncomics, @ehobep, @paranoid-ira

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Playground

(A/N) Once again tried to capture a more silly side of this franchise. Hope you like it!

Pairing: Simon x Reader (no Y/N)

Warning: mentions of alcohol, Reader and Soap being drunk little idiots

Synopsis: When will they learn that alcohol, Soap and you aren't a good combo?

“Where did those two idiots run off to again?”

Price sighed, annoyance mixed with a bit of concern clear on his face. Simon on the other hand was hiding a small smile under his mask. After all, by now they should really now better. Leaving you and Soap alone? In a bar? With alcohol? Grave mistake. And to be honest, Simon had learned.

While everyone was packed in the car on their way to the bar, he had slipped a GPS tracker into your pocket, knowing that it’d probably come in handy at some point during the night. So, while Price was looking around, he just lazily pulled out his phone and opened the app that was connected to the tracker.

“They are three blocks away on the playground.”

Price looked up, one of his brows raised.

“Have you finally implanted them with a tracker?”

Simon chuckled and shook his head, instead admitting that he slipped you one during the car ride. As the older man chuckled in surprise, they began to make their way to your location, leaving Gaz in the bar. It didn’t take them long to reach the two of you, and what they saw didn’t really surprise them.

While you were sitting on a swing, going almost high enough to make a loop, Soap was on top of a slide. But he was not sitting down, instead, he held onto the bar, took a few steps back, and then rushed towards it, trying to duck underneath, but he just ended up hitting his forehead and falling down the slide. This sight immediately made you laugh and in your amusement, you let go of the chains on either side of you, plummeting off the swing and landing on your back.

By then, the two men were close enough to hear the quiet ‘oof’ escaping your lips as you made contact with the padded ground. Simon couldn’t help but chuckle as he gazed at your form, lying on the ground, a defeated look on your face. But as soon as he stepped up to you, your eyes lit up and a bright smile spread on your lips.

“Si!”

You had yelled his name loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear, making him roll his eyes. But with the way you were looking at him, he couldn’t be mad.

“What are you doing on the ground, sweetheart?”

Of course, he knew exactly why you were lying there, specks of dirt in your hair.

“Fell.”

You started to pout, making the man above you smirk. You were adorable as a drunk. But he would never admit how much he loved you…like that of course. Not in general. Simon doesn’t do love, of course, he doesn’t. Who do you think he is? He-

His thoughts stopped instantly as you reached up with both hands, making a grabbing motion in his direction. With a quiet sigh, he reached down, thinking that you’d want him to help you up. But instead, you used the surprise and all of your strength to pull him down beside him. As his heavy body hit the ground right beside you, a loud grunt escaped his lips.

If it was anyone else - hell even if it was Johnny - he would properly curse them out, but your quiet giggling immediately calmed him down again. He glanced at you, your eyes were pressed closed as tears escaped from the corner, while your mouth was open, trying to inhale. You were a sight to behold. And Simon immediately burned it into his brain, wanting to always remember you like that.

“Well, she got you Lt.”

Price had by now helped Soap to his feet and was holding him by the scruff of his neck. Simon nodded and sighed as he fully laid down.

“You two go on ahead, we’ll meet you at the bar later.”

Price nodded, quickly dragging the Scotsman away, while he complained about why you were allowed to stay. Both of you watched the two walk away until they were out of sight. Once you were alone, you turned to look at Simon, a soft smile on your face.

“Hi.”

Simon turned his head, his own smile, as per usual, hidden.

“Hi there.”

With a grin, you rolled onto your side and hugged the Lieutenant, laying your head on his chest. Simon knew that you were drunk and that that was probably the only reason you were behaving like that, but he still couldn’t keep his heart from beating quicker and his cheeks from heating up.

“You okay?”

You nodded against the hoodie covering his chest and sighed in contentment, enjoying his presence. Slowly, as if afraid to scare you, Simon wrapped his arm around you, pulling you even closer. You spent a few minutes like this, just lying there and enjoying each other’s presence. Until you got an idea. A few feet away, there was a basket swing and you just had to drag Simon there.

So, you quickly scrambled to your feet, more or less elegant, and reached out to drag Simon up as well. Not that you could actually do that without his help. But you once again had that spark in your eyes and Simon knew that in that moment, he would do whatever you asked of him. But you didn’t even say anything, just pointed at the swing and dragged him over, before pushing him to lay down in it.

It was uncomfortable, to say the least, but you quickly got the swing in motion, before scrambling on top of Simon and laying down again. As if you cuddling into his side earlier wasn’t enough for one day, you lying down on top of him, as if it’s the most natural thing in the entire world, made him think he was about to have a heart attack.

But you just relaxed against his body, closed your eyes as your head rested just above his heart. And as the swing gently swayed back and forth, you slowly fell asleep.

A few hours later

As soon as Simon heard the familiar walking pattern, he knew that he was saved. You had fallen asleep about two hours ago and since then, he had not dared to move a muscle. He had lost all feeling in his legs and his back was screaming in pain, but he didn’t want to disturb you, so he stayed still.

“Would you look at that.”

Simon rolled his eyes as he heard his Captain’s booming laughter fill the air, chuckles from the others in the background. But as you started to shift, he carefully raised his head to shush at them, not wanting you to wake up. After the rest of the team had gotten their fill of chuckles and pictures, some Simon would want send to him afterward, they finally helped. Gaz and Price carefully lifted you, while Soap helped the poor man to his feet. It took a few minutes for Simon to start walking properly again, but as soon as he was steady, he insisted on carrying you back to the car.

Once the team had reached the base, Simon carried you to your room and quickly changed your clothes, so you would be more comfortable during the night. He also grabbed a bottle of water, as well as some painkillers, and placed them on your nightstand before carrying over his mattress, pillows, and blanket and placing everything beside your bed. He wanted to be there if you needed anything during the night.

Now

Price lowered the microphone from his lips and grinned at you and Simon. While you were laughing hard enough for tears to escape your eyes, your husband was a blushing mess beside you. When he had asked Price to be his best man, that was not what he had expected.

The rest of the wedding guests were also laughing, but before Price could continue his speech, Simon grabbed the mic and turned it off, instead yelling to the DJ that it was time for the first dance. You chuckled as he pulled you to your feet and out onto the dancefloor.

The lights quickly dimmed and a beautiful slow song started playing as the two of you started softly swaying.

“Goddamnit.”

You giggled and gently stroked Simon’s cheek, which felt way too warm underneath your fingers.

“You basically asked for this, you know?”

He grumbled something before hiding his face in your neck, placing soft kisses there. You shivered under his touch and tried to pull him away from your skin, warning that everyone was looking. He pulled back, a mischievous grin on his lips.

“So what?”

Before you could answer, he hoisted you up and threw you over his shoulder, before running out of the room and searching until he found the utility closet. You were giggling the whole time, waving as the curious eyes of your guests followed the two of you. Simon gently sat you down on a random table and moved to stand between your legs.

You grinned up at him, before pulling him down and crashing your lips to his. What can you say? The guests would be able to entertain themselves for half an hour. Right?

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Call of Duty - Masterlist

Master-Masterlist

[itacats]

Butcher Shop Connection

FT: Simon x gn!reader

Warnings: DV, abuse, heat exhaustion, passing out, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

SUM: The sweltering heat in the butcher shop forces a long-hidden truth to surface as you collapse under the weight of your own defenses. Simon, ever watchful, catches you in your moment of vulnerability, uncovering the marks you’ve tried so hard to conceal. His shock gives way to quiet fury and unyielding care, his promise of support a lifeline in a sea of shame and fear.

A/N: This chapter is brought to you by confronting your demons in a poorly ventilated butcher shop! It’s a tough one—unmasking wounds is never easy, but sometimes it takes a little heat (and a collapse) to remind us we can’t shoulder everything alone. Simon’s reaction? Chef’s kiss. A balance of rage on your behalf and the kind of steady reassurance we all deserve.✨

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Part 4 - When the Mask Slips

The butcher shop is bathed in the lazy glow of the late afternoon sun, its golden rays filtering through the dusty windows to light up the space in soft amber hues. The air is thick and oppressive, the old fan overhead doing little more than stirring the heavy warmth. The scents of fresh pork and beef, normally comforting, seem almost stifling under the weight of the summer heat. You and Simon are tucked into the far corner of the shop, where the light barely reaches, your voice bouncing softly between the walls as the day drags on.

Simon, ever watchful, notices the sheen of sweat on your forehead as it glints under the dim shop lights. His sharp gaze narrow, and his lips pull into that familiar smirk—part teasing, part genuine concern. "Oi, mate, you don’t have to roast yourself alive in that jacket, you know," he quips, his Manchester accent turning the words into a melody of care disguised as humor.

You wave him off, your laugh light but strained. "I’m fine. Just a little warm, that’s all," you reply, wiping at your brow with the back of your hand. The jacket feels heavier than usual, but you can’t take it off. You won’t.

Simon studies you, his brow furrowing as the teasing gives way to something more serious. He leans forward, the golden light catching the faded tattoos peeking from under his rolled sleeves. "Come on, seriously. Take it off before you keel over. It’s like an oven in here."

You shake your head, clinging to your stubbornness. "Really, I’m fine," you insist, though your voice wavers just enough for Simon to notice. The heat feels like it’s crawling up your spine, making it harder to focus, but you force a smile, determined to convince him—and yourself—that you’re okay.

But you’re not. The world tilts unexpectedly, the golden light dimming as your vision swims. Simon’s voice becomes distant, muffled, as the floor rushes up to meet you. Then, nothing. Only darkness.

When your eyes flutter open, the fluorescent lights above you are stark and glaring, a sharp contrast to the warm glow of the butcher shop. The room feels cooler, calmer, but the weight in your chest is heavier than ever. Your senses are slow to return, but the first thing you register is a hand gripping yours, firm and reassuring. Simon. His face hovers above yours, his eyes wide with concern, his hair slightly mussed as though he’s run his hands through it too many times.

"Hey, hey, you’re awake," he says, his voice soft but insistent, tinged with worry. "You scared the hell out of me."

You try to sit up, but he gently presses you back down. "Not so fast, love. Just take it easy for a second."

His words are a blur, swirling around your hazy mind as you try to piece together what happened. The oppressive heat, the stubborn jacket, and then—nothing. Your heart sinks as the realization dawns on you. Your jacket. You tug at it instinctively, but Simon’s already a step ahead of you, his hands carefully easing it off your shoulders.

"Let me help you," he says, his tone firm but kind. You want to stop him, to argue, but your body feels too heavy, your mind too foggy to resist.

As the jacket slips away, the truth beneath it is laid bare. The bruises and cuts you’ve worked so hard to conceal come into view, their stark contrast against your skin telling a story you’ve fought to keep hidden. Some marks are fresh, angry and red, while others have faded into yellowed ghosts of pain long past. Your arms, your neck, even your collarbone—it’s all there, exposed under the unforgiving fluorescent light.

Simon freezes. His breath hitches audibly, and his eyes widen in shock. His gaze flickers across your skin, taking in the evidence of a life you’ve never spoken about, the weight you’ve carried alone. His hand trembles slightly as he reaches out, brushing against your cheek. The motion dislodges the carefully applied makeup you’d used to cover the worst of it, and he stares as the mask crumbles, piece by piece.

"Who did this to you?" he whispers, his voice low and rough, a mix of fury and heartbreak. His eyes meet yours, searching for answers, his expression a tangle of emotions—rage, confusion, sorrow, and something deeper, something tender and unyielding.

Tears prick at your eyes as you look away, shame and fear coiling tightly in your chest. You try to pull back, to shield yourself from his gaze, but Simon doesn’t let go. His grip on your hand tightens, not in anger but in reassurance, a silent promise that he won’t let you face this alone.

"You don’t have to hide from me," he says, his voice steady despite the storm in his eyes. "Not anymore."

Here's the current post schedule with some upcoming stories to look forward to!

[syluscore]

Everybody's Gotta Die Sometime

~step brother Ghostface! Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader~

happy halloween to my ghostface leon fuckers. and to hopefully my new ghostface leon fucker recruits. <3 (shoutout to @lipglossanon for making me discover my love of stepcest. and shoutout to @delusionalbunni for requesting this. and everyone in the discord server for giving me ideas constantly)

Word count: 5419

Content warnings: DEAD DOVE DON'T FUCKING EAT IT, dubcon, noncon, dom leon, stepcest, kidnapping, drugging, bodily harm, wounds, cuts, blood, knife usage, serial killer, murders, stalking, pervert leon, discusses scenes from Scream, pet names, degradation, praise, dry humping, aggressive sex, finger sucking, slapping, ass slapping, daddy kink, baby trapping, forced impregnation, talk of body changes, talk of lactation, spitting, blood eating, BREEDING KINK, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, and more dirty talk then you'll know what to do with

!!!!!!!MINORS DNI! GHOSTKENNEDY IS STRICTLY 18+!!!!!!!!

“Run, my pretty bunny,” he whispers in your ear before pushing you down into the mud. A yelp of pain escapes from your throat as you connect with the unforgiving ground. Blood is already running down your chest from where he cut you just moments ago. A little slice to show you just how serious he was. And if it weren’t for the adrenaline coursing through your veins, you’re sure it’d hurt like a bitch.

“By time I count to twenty, you better be out of my fucking sight.” 

You push yourself up with all the strength you can muster and force yourself to move forward as he starts counting behind you. The drugs are still flowing through you, making your blood feel thick like honey. Your brain is enveloped in a dense fog that has you disorientated as you weave through the heavily wooded forest.

You know you don’t stand a chance; of course you don’t. But he wants to play this stupid game of cat and mouse, so you’ll play along; it’s probably the only way you’ll make it out of this alive. 

Your legs are unsteady as you traverse the uneven terrain, using tree branches to keep yourself up on your feet. 

Why you of all people? 

The Ghostface copy-cat killer has been terrorizing this small town for months now and you’d never heard of him taking any of his victims to the woods to play “chase.” His murders have always been quick, spontaneous, and brutal. There had never been mentions of a second location. 

You must be one lucky girl. 

You remember walking home from work. Sure, it was late at night so it was pretty dark, but you didn’t have any other choice. Your boss asked you to stay late, and if you had any hope of being brought on full time, you couldn’t say no.

So you said yes and before you could make it home, someone was grabbing you from behind and holding a towel up over your nose and mouth. Then everything went black.

And then you woke up, tied up in the woods with a bag over your head. The bag was quickly yanked off and the first thing you saw was that fucking mask. The Ghostface mask. 

You tried to fight him as best as you could, but you were far too weak, and he was far too strong. You never really stood a chance. You pleaded with him, begged him to let you go, but you were only met with anger. 

You knew you were poking the bear when you told him he wouldn’t actually do anything. And when he sliced you open across your chest with his blade, you only really had yourself to blame. And when he told you to run, that he wanted to play with you, you weren’t in any position to fight him on it.

So now you’re running through the dark wooded area. You don’t have a fucking clue where you are, you don’t know where you’re headed, you don’t have a plan, and possibly the worst part? You don’t know where he is. You somehow preferred being in that small clearing with him taunting and tormenting you than being out here amongst the trees all alone, every little sound making you jump out of your skin.

How long have you been running through the woods? Time seems to be passing by so slowly as you put forth your best effort. You’re leaned up against a tree, clinging to the bark to keep from completely toppling over. You’re so lightheaded, your head spinning, you don’t know which way is up and which way is down as the world spins around you.

Your lungs ache from the overexertion, the only things you can focus on being the sound of your heart beat pounding in your ears and fighting back the vomit threatening to spill from your throat. 

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, your arms too weak to keep hanging onto the tree. You feel yourself falling backwards, feel yourself fainting and not being able to do anything to stop it. 

Before your body can connect with the ground, arms are wrapping around you just like they had before you passed out the first time. You groan out in pain as you’re laid gently on the forest floor.

Your head is still spinning, your eyes unable to focus as you hear a distant voice talking to you.

You slowly come back to yourself and when you do, you realize you’re looking up at Ghostface himself.

“Are you okay? Can you hear me?” He questions you. You try to answer him, but your words die in your throat. You’re still feeling too weak to even speak.

You look up at the moonlight breaking through the trees above you, thinking about how pretty of a view you get to witness while dying. You guess if you did have to choose, this is the sight you’d choose to experience while your body slowly gives up on itself.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when hands grasp your face firmly and pull you to look ahead of you. It takes a minute for you to fully process that Ghostface no longer has his mask on. And you’re sure you’ve died or are hallucinating as death pulls you under when you see the killer’s real face. And it’s not just any face, because that would be too simple. No, it’s one you recognize and one you recognize well.

You choke out words, them barely coming out above a whisper, “Leon? Is that you?”

His cocky, shit eating grin takes over his entire face. You don’t need him to respond anymore. That look is undeniably and so certainly Leon fucking Kennedy.

“In the flesh, baby sis,” he rubs his thumb across your cheek. 

“Are you- you’re Ghostface? Like, the Ghostface?” You’re trying to process what’s happening, but it’s so fucking unreal. There has to be some other explanation. 

“You’ve always been such a stupid girl.” He shakes his head as he fights back a smirk. “You never connected the dots? Never pieced it together for yourself?”

You stare up at him, giving up fighting your tears.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s you. All the random murders? Oh baby. They weren’t random,” he laughs with a look of disbelief on his face. “Let’s see. Your boyfriend? Couldn’t have him thinking what’s mine belongs to him. That girl that used to live in our neighborhood? She was always such a bitch to you.”

You search his face for any signs of what he’s getting at, but you don’t find any answers. “I don’t understand.”

“How about that barista who always had an attitude with you? Your old manager who made you uncomfortable and didn’t give a shit?”

All you can do is stare up at him. What does your old boss have to do with this? And what barista is he talking about? They’re all bitchy at the coffee shop near your place. If someone was ever nice to you there, you’d be worried about what’s wrong with the world.

“Oh! I know what’ll make you a happy little bunny! Any guesses?”

“I don’t suppose it’s you changing your mind and letting me go?”

Leon bursts out laughing at your response, “You’re so silly. No, baby. I found the lady who did that hit and run on your car. She was drunk off her ass that day and the day I found her. It amazes me how the police could never find her, yet it only took me two days. Now they’ll really never find her.”

He brings his face down to yours, until he’s barely a few inches away from you.

“You killed them?”

“Every one of them.”

“And what about the others?”

He reaches up and brushes a strand of hair out of your face. “Some were for practice, some were for fun.” He shrugs as if he isn’t admitting to a bunch of murders. “But if they were an inconvenience to us, they had to go.”

“None of them had to die, Leon.”

“Everybody dies, bunny. Better to be by my hand than some flesh eating disease, right?” The hand not caressing your face starts to slowly roam your body, his fingers gently running down your side. 

“Please let me go. You don’t have to do this.”

You try to shake yourself beneath him, but he’s using all of his weight to pin you to the cold, muddy ground.

“Big brother just wants to take care of his little sis,” Leon coos at you, his fringe sticking to his forehead as the blood there slowly dries.

“You’re not my fucking brother, Leon. We haven’t seen each other since we were kids.” Your voice is mean, a complete contrast from the way you look. Covered in mud, tears, sweat, and blood. You can taste it on your lips.

He laughs down at you. “We haven’t? Baby. I see you all the time. I see you behind the counter at work. I see you at the grocery store when you need to pick up some milk and bread. I see you when you check your pockets for your wallet and keys before you go in the back door of your house.” He drags his knife down your neck, hard enough to sting but gentle enough to not break the skin. “I see you with your fingers buried deep in that tight cunt when you think no one is watching. I don’t just see it either, I hear it. I hear how loud and needy you are. It’s as if you’re subconsciously begging for big brother’s cock. Calling out for me to stuff this little pussy full, breed that tight hole until you can’t take it anymore. I see you everywhere you go baby, even in the privacy of your own bedroom.”

You can’t formulate a response, so you just stare up at him dumbfounded. You hope he’s bluffing–he has to be bluffing.

“So maybe you haven’t seen me since we were kids, but I see you all the time, sweet baby sis.”

“You’re lying. Anybody could say that vague shit.” You give him a dirty look as he presses the blade harshly against your skin. You hiss out at the stinging pain and cringe as you feel your warm blood ooze from the fresh wound.

“Oh? You don’t believe me?” You shake your head, further cutting yourself on the knife, yelping before stilling yourself once again. Quickly trying to correct your mistake.

“Hmm, let’s see,” he shifts his eyes as if deep in thought. “What about that step brother porn you’re always watching? Oh step bro, we can’t do this. Mom and Dad will catch us!” Your face heats at his words. “Or maybe when you shoved your hand in your panties while watching Scream? You came how many times? Do you remember, baby sis?”

You stumble over your words. “I-, um, well, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You give him a stern look, trying to emphasize your seriousness, but it’s useless.

His hand quickly wraps around your throat and squeezes. You struggle beneath him as your air is cut off, but he only squeezes tighter. 

“Stay. Still!” He screams right in your face and you freeze in fear. You hold yourself as still as possible despite not being able to breathe.

“Remember when you came when Tatum got stuck in the garage door? Or maybe when Billy revealed he was Ghostface? Or when Billy and Stu were stabbing each other?”

“No,” you squeak out, barely able to speak with your constricted airway. 

He squeezes even tighter, your face is on fire as you gasp and whine for air.

“Don’t fucking lie to me, you fucking brat.” He shakes your whole body with just the grip on your throat. “You gonna tell me the truth?” He yells out as your vision starts to blur from lack of oxygen.

He loosens his grip enough to allow some air to enter your lungs. “Tell me, god dammit!”

“Okay!” You choke out and he releases your throat. You desperately suck in air and cough from the ache in your throat. “Okay. It’s true, okay?”

“What’s true? Use your words, princess.”

“I fucking touched myself while watching a Ghostface movie! Is that what you wanted to hear? Wanted to hear me admit it even though you fucking saw it! I got off watching it, okay?”

More tears stream down your face, shame filling you after your confession. Speaking the words out loud makes it all the more real, all the more embarrassing.

How the fuck did you end up here? Exhausted in the mud beneath your ex step brother?

He sits back on his haunches and picks the mask up off the ground, quickly slipping it back on and adjusting it back into place. When his hand falls back to his side, you notice the blood smears left behind on his white mask. Your blood stains it. 

“See something you like, princess?” Leon quirks his head to the side, his voice teasing. Your face immediately heats up from being caught staring. You hadn’t meant to be staring so long.

You avert your eyes, looking off into the trees and avoiding his mask completely. 

“Why do you think I wear this fucking mask?” He spits out, aggressively grabbing your chin and making you look right into the empty eyes of the mask.

You whimper out and shake your head no. He lessens his grip on your chin in favor of running his thumb softly over your cheek. 

“Oh, baby. It’s all for you. Don’t you see it? I killed them all for you, I chose this mask because it gets you all wet, and now?” He chuckles and brings his mouth up to your ear. He whispers as if he’s divulging you in some deep, dark secret, “Now, I’m gonna fuck you while wearing this mask. And you’re gonna fucking love it.”

Your jaw drops as your eyes nearly bulge out of your head. “Wha-what? No.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

He grinds his pelvis into your abdomen and that’s when you feel it. His hard cock pushes against you and it solidifies his claim. He’s really going to fuck you.

And you want to be disgusted, you want to scream and push him off, but you don’t say a word as you clench your thighs together. You had been so caught up in the chase, so caught up in putting up a fight that you didn’t stop and realize how fucking wet you are.

You cringe at the throbbing in your cunt. Your panties and thighs are soaked, you’re sure you’ve soaked all the way through your pants as well.

You want to explain it off. It’s just an adrenaline response, it’s out of your control. But as he continues to grind into you, you find your hips raising up and meeting his rhythm. Your lip is bleeding from how harshly you’re biting it, your hands curled into clenched fists.

“There she is. There’s my dirty fucking bunny. Knew you wouldn’t be able to help yourself, knew you needed your big brother’s cock.”

You whine at his words, his clothed crotch grinding into yours causing your panties to dig into your throbbing clit. The friction is so good, it has sweat beading down your back, but it just isn’t fucking enough. Not nearly enough.

“Leon,” your voice is high pitched and whiny. You lift your hands from beneath his thighs and reach out to cling to him, but he’s quick to grab your wrists in one of his hands and pin them above your head.

“None of that, baby sis. Use your words for me. What do you want?”

“Please,” you both continue rolling your hips together, finding an achingly perfect rhythm. If he keeps this up, keeps grinding into that spot that’s just right over and over, you’re gonna cum just like this. 

He grinds into your clit particularly hard and it has your eyes rolling back, a pathetic moan falling from your lips and echoing out in the empty woods surrounding you.

“Please what, princess? If I don’t know what you want I can’t give it to you. And I’ll stop right now.”

“No!”

“Then use your fucking words, you dumb bunny,” He spits at you angrily. His muffled voice through the Ghostface mask sounds like sex itself. He could say anything to you right now and it would have you drooling for him.

“Wanna cum,” you whine out, toes curling in your shoes.

He slows his hips, just barely continuing to grind into you. “Not enough.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, I want you to fuck me. Please, fuck me. I need you inside of me.”

“See? Not so hard is it? You want big brothers cock stuffing this slutty pussy full?

You arch your back, pushing your body up into his in desperation. “Yes. Please, fuck. Need your cock.”

“Who’s cock?”

“Yours?” 

“Nu uh, not good enough.”

You whine out, kicking your feet in frustration. “Big brother’s cock. I need my big brother’s cock inside of me. I wanna feel it.”

He sits back on his haunches, releasing your hands from his grasp. His hands go down to start undoing his belt as you reach out and palm his cock through his black jeans.

You gasp as you feel how fucking big he is.

Leon clicks his tongue as he releases his belt and slowly starts working the zipper on his jeans down, “What? Not what you were expecting?”

You whimper at his cocky tone, unable to speak. The only thing you can focus on is getting his cock inside of you.

“Need your big brother to fill you up with his big cock?”

“Yes. Please,” you whine as you wiggle beneath him. You can’t make yourself stay still, your body thrashes with need. 

His pants are undone, barely hanging onto his hips when he releases your legs and pulls you up into a sitting position. He grabs your shirt and quickly pulls it over your head, tossing it off to the side haphazardly. He doesn’t even bother pulling your leggings off, grabbing the crotch and tearing it open.

“Hands and knees,” he instructs you and you immediately comply, rolling over and pushing your ass up in the air for him.

He groans at the sight of your lace panties clinging to your pussy, your arousal working as a glue. He tears your leggings further, not stopping until your whole ass is exposed for him.

He runs his fingers over your panty clad pussy and it has you pressing yourself back into his touch. He makes a sound of disapproval before a loud smack rings out, followed by a sharp stinging pain in your ass cheek. 

He presses his chest into your back, bringing his mouth down to your ear. “Such an impatient slut,” he growls as he grinds his bare cock against you. 

You go to turn your head to look back at him, but his hand is quick to grab your face and force you to look forward, before his hand roughly covers your mouth.

“Stay fucking still,” he hisses out at you, causing all of your muscles to freeze up in fear. The tone of his voice sends shivers down your spine. Part of you hates it, but another part, a much bigger part, loves it and has your pussy clenching around nothing. 

“That’s it. Stay still like a good fuck bunny for your big brother.”

You feel him pull your panties away from your pussy and bunch them up and out of the way, before his fingers lightly graze around your needy hole. 

“So fucking wet. And you tried saying you didn’t want this,” he chuckles directly into your ear, sounding like pure sex to you. He releases your mouth and instead pushes your face to the ground and holds the back of your neck instead. 

His free hand leaves where he was teasing your hole, surprising you when he grabs one of your hands and brings it back to your wet cunt.

“Feel how fucking wet you are.” He pushes your fingers up against your soaked clit and your legs quiver at the sudden stimulation. “Feel that, bunny? Feel what your big brother did to you?”

You moan out as he continues rubbing your fingers into your clit.

“Yes,” your voice comes out whiny, “Big brother gets my pussy so wet.”

“Good girl. Should I give you what you want? Want me to shove my cock in my little sister’s pussy?” 

You push your ass back against his groin again. “Yes, your little sister needs her pussy bred.”

He pulls your hand from your clit and brings your wet fingers up to your mouth. “Here. Open up and tell me how this slutty pussy tastes.” 

You’ve barely opened your mouth before he’s pushing his fingers down against your tongue, causing you to eagerly lick and suck them clean. 

“That’s it, taste this sweet fucking pussy for me. Such a good slut, huh? Nothing but a fuck bunny for me,” he shoves his fingers to the back of your throat, forcing you to fight your gag reflex while tears slip from your eyes.

You choke around his fingers and he quickly pulls them from your throat.

“You like tasting your own slutty pussy?”

You can’t stop the moan that slips past your lips, “Yes. I love it.”

“You love what? Come on, baby. Use your words so I can reward you.”

Another harsh slap to your ass has you yelping out, “I love tasting my own pussy. Love when big brother makes me taste myself.”

You crane your neck to look back at Leon and he lets you look at him. Mask still in place, t-shirt bunched up above his belly, his pants and boxers pushed down his thighs. 

His cock is right against your needy hole. Just one small movement of his hips and you could finally feel him inside of you.

“There you go. Watch as big brother spreads you open on his cock.”

And then he slowly pushes forward and you look into his mask as you finally feel him inside of you. 

Your pussy is immediately clenching around him. Weak little moans continuously falling from your lips as he pushes in further and further. 

“Such a tight pussy, fuck.” He praises as he bottoms out and holds his dick inside of you. “You were made to take big brother’s cock. Look so fucking perfect like this.”

You whimper softly into the ground at his words, staying still and willing yourself to adjust to his massive dick. You feel split in half already and he hasn’t even started fucking you yet.

His hand runs up and down your back, along your spine gently. “That’s it, you got this, pretty bunny. Gonna bread this tight cunt, ruin you for anyone else.”

“Pl-please,” you whined out, “Please fuck me. I want it so bad. Big brother, please-”

You can’t even finish begging before he’s pulling out and roughly shoving his cock back into you.

“Oh my god,” your voice comes out in a tone you don’t even recognize as your own. “Yes, yes, yes, please. Oh fuck.”

He roughly grips your hip as he effortlessly thrusts in and out of your soaking wet pussy. 

“You like that, baby sis? Already going dumb on my cock and I haven’t even properly started fucking you yet. Such a pathetic little whore, my pathetic little whore. Taking my cock so fucking well.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he slowly starts to pick up the pace of his thrusts. 

“All yours. Your whore,” you aren’t able to finish your statement before he starts aggressively fucking his cock into you. The only sounds leaving your mouth are broken gasps. The pleasure is too intense for you to make any other noise, mouth stuck open on a silent moan.

He moves his hand from the back of your throat, instead grabbing a handful of your hair harshly and yanking you back until your head is against his shoulder. The moan you release is nothing short of pornographic at the pain in your scalp.

He chuckles before speaking right against your ear, “Fucking take it, you stupid whore. Dumb little sis likes it rough. I’ll fucking give it to you just like you want it. Gonna fucking break you.”

“Oh fuck yes, daddy,” you don’t even register the words you’ve said until Leon let’s out a loud moan.

“Daddy? You dirty little girl. Want daddy to breed you? Need daddy to take care of you?”

“Yes. God, yes.” You’re too far gone in a pleasure filled haze to be embarrassed about calling him daddy. Fuck, you’d call him anything he asks right now.

“Gonna let daddy put a baby in you? Keep you tied to me forever.” He’s practically growling in your ear at this point, so worked up over you calling him daddy. “Gonna swell up with my baby and everyone will know how good I fuck you.”

“No, daddy, we can’t,” you try to reason with him through your brain fog.

He laughs loudly in your ear. “But I can, and I will. God, your boobs are gonna fucking leak all over. Gonna fucking suck those milky tits dry.”

You can’t stop yourself from clenching around his dick at his filthy words.

“Ugh, knew you’d like that. Gonna be tied to daddy forever. You’ll never fucking escape me. Gonna keep this pussy stuffed, gonna make you pop out all my babies. Gonna fucking show you how much of a daddy I am, baby.”

He quickly pulls out of you making you whine out in disappointment. But it doesn’t last long, as he throws you on your back. He wraps your thighs around his hips and shoves his dick back inside of you. 

He goes back to his unforgiving pace and all you can do is stare up into the Ghostface mask, which only intensifies your pleasure.

Your hands trail up his chest until you’re gripping the back of his neck and pulling him closer into you. You go back and forth between staring into the mask and squeezing your eyes shut.

You don’t know what comes over you, but you're desperate for skin to skin contact. So you grab the hem of his shirt and yank it over his head, but in the process, you pull his mask off with it. 

Then it’s just you and Leon staring right at each other’s faces. Sweat pours from his forehead, his mouth slightly agape as he pants from the exertion, and his eyes blown wide with lust. He looks like an absolute madman, but you suppose that’s because he is.

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull yourself up into his body. Your chest presses into his as you connect your lips with his. One of his arms wraps around your lower back while he uses his other arm to hold you two up. He thrusts, never once slowing.

The kiss is sloppy. Your tongues immediately come together and explore each other completely. Spit drips down your chin as you moan into the kiss.

He bites your lip, you bite his. He sucks on your tongue, you suck on his. He sucks your lips until they ache, and you suck his lips with everything you have.

You finally break the kiss, but keep your foreheads pressed together. 

Leon pushes your bodies down, your back connecting harshly to the cold ground. He grabs your calves and brings your ankles to his shoulders.

“Oh god, daddy. Yes, fuck, please, fuck, just like that. Please, please, please, daddy, fuck.” You don’t process anything you’re saying. Words just keep falling from your lips as he continuously pounds deeply into you.

“I’m gonna fucking fill you up, baby sis. And you’re gonna take all of it. God, gonna breed my baby sister’s tight pussy. Gonna let daddy breed you, baby?”

“Yes, yes, yes, please.” 

He brings his hand down between you two, ru

bbing your clit harshly causing you to cry out loudly at the intensity.

“Who’s gonna breed this pussy? Who’s baby is gonna grow in this fucking belly?”

Your eyes are rolling into the back of your head as your whole body feels more and more wound up, fastly approaching your release.

“Fucking answer me. Who’s breeding this tight cunt? Who’s cock are you gonna cum all over?”

“Yours. Yours, daddy. Gonna, fuck, gonna cream my big brother’s big fucking cock.”

“Yeah, that’s it baby. Tell me how it feels. Tell me how good big brother’s cock is making you feel.” He’s groaning, borderline growling, as he ruthlessly pounds into you.

You force your eyes open, force yourself to look into his eyes. “You daddy. You’re making my slutty pussy feel so fucking good. God, your cock is making my pussy feel so good. Big brother’s cock is making me feel so good. I wanna cum all over it.”

“Come for daddy, then. Cream my fucking cock like the dirty whore you are.” He pulls his hand from your clit so he can hold your thighs up more firmly. “Rub yourself for me. Wanna watch you push yourself over the edge.”

Your hand quickly reaches down, quickly rubbing fast circles on your soaking wet clit. 

“Look at me while you cum on my cock. Be a good whore and look at who’s fucking you like this.”

You bite your lip until you taste blood again. Moaning loudly as you stare up at Leon and rubbing your clit furiously. You’re desperately trying to cum, desperately trying to push yourself over the edge. But no matter how close you feel, you can’t send yourself over the edge.

Until a stinging, blinding pain seers into the back of your thigh and you can’t even process the warm blood pouring from the freshly sliced wound before you’re cumming. Cumming harder than you ever have in your life. Not one inch of your body isn’t shaking, not one part of you not exploding with intense pleasure.

You’re screaming, your throat burning from the strain. You have to force yourself to stop as the overstimulation sets in.

“Dad, daddy, please. Fuck, I can’t take it anymore.” You’re practically sobbing now, but your request is ignored.

He pushes your ankles off of his shoulders and you immediately lock them behind his back. One of his hands grips your jaw and spits on your cheek.

“You’re gonna fucking take it, fucking whore.” His other hand runs down the middle of your chest, coating it in fresh blood. You look down and see your dry blood combining with the new blood, staining nearly your whole chest red.

A sharp slap meets your cheek. Your cheek burns and your ear rings from the sheer force of the hit. Before you can even yelp out in pain, his blood soaked fingers are being shoved into your mouth and you’re immediately hit with the copper taste.

“I’m cumming, fuck. Breeding baby sister’s greedy fucking hole. Take it, you stupid slut. Fucking take it, fuck.” His thrusts slow, but are just as hard as he cums deep inside of you. 

You’re too distracted sucking his fingers clean to register what the stinging pain in your abdomen is. 

Leon groans and moans above you as he comes down from his high. He finally looks back down at your face and can’t stop himself from smiling at the blood and dirt all over your body. He could eat you alive right now, and he just might.

He slowly pulls his spent cock out of you, causing you to whimper at the sudden emptiness and the feeling of his cum steadily dripping from your abused hole.

He sits back on his haunches and lets out a throaty laugh. “Would you look at that,” You follow the direction of his eyes down to your abdomen where you see blood pooling. He quickly picks up his discarded shirt and wipes away the excess blood, causing you to hiss out in pain. 

But he finally uncovers his handiwork for you to see in all its glory. And you gasp out in shock at the sight of it.

Carved into your skin are messily drawn letters. L.S.K. 

“See? You’ll never forget who you fucking belong to now.”

~masterlist~