#i would just disappear like what are these words you people are saying. you're all crazy
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then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you.
summary: dally was the kind of boyfriend who'd do anything but say those three sweet words you crave so desperately.
warnings: angst ig hehe sooorryyy, established relationship, leaning towards fem!pov (specifically girly/hyper fem as thats what i am, so i usually write what i am), cursing, slight objectifying, lmk if i missed anything <3
dallas didn't love anything. he didn't love joy, he didn't love sunlight, he didn't love puppies or kittens, he didn't even love himself. so he probably didn't love you, not matter how many times he'd press gentler than normal kisses to your neck, or talk a little too much when he's drunk.
but even now, with him in your bed, arms wrapped around you like you'll disappear, you're none the wiser. even when he's got his fingers threading through your hair, rings catching on the strands, you can't quite tell what he's thinking. "so pretty, aren't ya?" he mutters, pressing his lips to your hair.
he always felt out of place in your room, it's so girly, pink and pretty. but what he always felt worse about is how awful he is for you. he can listen to you drone on about how great he is for hours, and the most you'll get back is a 'you've got a great rack'. he just doesn't know how to say it in a way that keeps him tough.
but you always just bury your face closer into his chest, as if your relationship doesn't have 5 weeks max left. "dally can you talk to me? i'm about to sleep." you say softly, nuzzling your face into him as if you want to get into his skin.
"sure i can, baby. you know i love gabbing to you" dallas chuckles, pecking your temple. "fuck, man. yknow... i'm digging the way you're twirling your hair, yknow?" he says, bouncing one of your curls. "y'look like a knockout... look like fucking marilyn monroe or some shit" he says with a grin, knowing you'll like that.
that's his love language, saying what you want to here. the smil on your face is enough for the month to him. "that's so nice dally" you murmur sleepily. "your so nice to me"
dallas paused. he wasn't that nice, was he? shit. well he can't be too rude to his broad, right? you'll just leave him. "shit, doll. i ain't nice enough. i should always be nicer. you're my angel, yeah? and i ain't letting you go."
you stare up at him with those damn doe eyes. even when you're half asleep and tired, those eyes just see right through them, as if they can see how he really feels. how much he really likes you. "i love you" you whisper softly. you've said it once before, and he disappeared for a couple days, coming back with barely anything changed.
dallas stayed silent for a moment, wrapping his arms tighter around you. he can't say he doesn't, because he does. you must know, right? can't you just be secure with knowing? he sighs, just pressing your head closer to him. "yeah" he says softly, and that's all.
you just sigh. you could've expected that. dallas isn't the kind of guy to express feelings, especially not love. he's too tough to feel a thing. you don't say anything, knowing how he is. or do you?
he loves you, you don't see it. you say it, he thinks it. loving people was never good for dally, he loved his mother and all she did in return was die. he would kiss you, hold you, tell you what you wanna hear.. but what the hell is he supposed to say? i love you? i want to marry you? it'll just bring bad energy or something.
you both stay silent for the rest of the night, just holding each other. it'll always be awkward after an 'i love you'. maybe you'll work around it, maybe you'll break up, maybe you'll just continue to ignore it. you fall asleep before dallas, and his hand went up to your head to stroke your hair again. gentler, sweeter, calmer. he presses his lips to your forehead. he couldn't do this when you're awake. you want someone tough, right? everyone does.
"i love you too."
authors note: man i love dally. i could yap soooo much about how well he's written and how interesting he is. love you matt please marry me <333
lots of love, dolly x
#matt dillon#the outsiders#the outsiders fanfiction#dallas winston x reader#fanfiction#dallas winston#dallas winston angst#dally winston#the outsiders 1983
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How would you feel if your child died in an IDF bombing?
A friend of mine lost two children, so I've seen that sort of grief close up...and I have two kids.
I'd probably feel a pain so consuming as to defy words to describe. Not just sorrow, but that kind of white-hot grief that reshapes time. I imagine my body would forget how to move. My skin would stop fitting. Every future I had ever imagined would disappear. I'd probably scream until I couldn't.
Soon, I might also feel rage. Not the cheap kind, the social media kind, but a rage that lives in the bones and makes it hard to eat. I might direct that rage at the IDF, Hamas, the Israeli people, the world, myself, or God. Probably all of them.
Because losing a child in war isn't abstract. It's not a moral gotcha', it's not an aesthetic, It's not a meme, it's not a rhetorical device.
It's just hell and I wouldn't wish it on anyone.
What the Death of Our Children Should Teach Us
If the death of a child should teach us anything, it's this: donât start wars. Donât glorify them, don't flirt with them, don't justify them with hashtags. Don't build your politics around people who do.
The wars between Israel and Hamas did not begin because two equal parties had a disagreement. Every round of conflict began the same way: Hamas attacked. Israel responded.
That includes the current war.
On October 7th, Hamas invaded southern Israel and committed the largest mass murder of Jews since the Holocaust. They didn't target only soldiers. They didn't storm only military bases. They raped, tortured, mutilated, and executed civilians - babies, grandmothers, festival-goers, migrant workers, and entire families in their homes.
Then they kidnapped over 250 people and dragged them into Gaza, including babies, toddlers, and Holocaust survivors.
One Side Targets Civilians. The Other Tries Not To.
Let's talk about bombings.
Hamas intentionally fires rockets at Israeli cities, aiming for civilian casualties. They hide weapons in hospitals and launch sites at schools. They do this knowing - hoping - that Palestinian civilians will die in Israeli retaliatory strikes. That's the PR strategy. That's not my opinion. Thatâs from Hamasâs own documents, interviews, and media.
Israel, by contrast, invests massive resources in avoiding civilian deaths. It warns people with phone calls, text messages, and "roof knocks" before airstrikes. It uses precision-guided munitions. It calls off operations if too many non-combatants are in the area. None of this is perfect - war never is - but the difference in intent matters.
It matters morally. It matters legally. And it matters if you're the one living under the bombs.
Yarden Bibas
You asked me how I'd feel if I lost my child in an IDF bombing.
I imagine I'd feel kinship with Yarden Bibas.
Yarden Bibas lived in Nir Oz, a kibbutz near the Gaza border. On the morning of October 7, Hamas terrorists invaded his home. They kidnapped his wife, Shiri, and their two sons: Ariel, age 4, and Kfir, nine months old.
You can see the footage. It's online. Yarden's family being dragged away at gunpoint. A terrorist holding baby Kfir like a football. Ariel screaming. Yarden himself was taken separately.
While the whole family was in captivity, Hamas released a psychological warfare video showing Shiri and the children alive. Then, silence. For months, Israeli and international media asked for proof of life. None came.
Eventually, Hamas admitted what Israel feared: Shiri and the children were dead. Hamas claimed they were killed in an Israeli airstrike - but refused to say where, when, or provide evidence.
Yarden Bibas was freed by Hamas on February 1, 2025, as part of the second ceasefire-hostage release deal. He had endured 484 days in captivity after being kidnapped on October 7, 2023.
Hamas returned the bodies of his wife, Shiri, and their sons on February 20â21, 2025. DNA testing confirmed the remains, and their funeral took place on February 26, 2025. They'd been strangled.
So let me return your question: How do you think Yarden Bibas feels?
How would you feel if you, your wife, and both your children were kidnapped, your family was murdered, and then their corpses were used as leverage in a propaganda campaign by a genocidal death cult, while you sat in a dark tunnel underground?
Would you be calm? Forgiving? Would you write poetic appeals to humanity? Would you want the whole world to stop pretending this is complicated and get on with balancing the scales?
I can only imagine how Yarden Bibas or any other parent who has lost a child feels. I can hope that such a thing wouldn't destroy me -but it might.
That's the best I can do if I treat your question as sincere and in good faith.
What if it isn't sincere or in good faith?
When I write about complex and difficult things, I often receive comments which are rhetorical traps disguised as empathy. You probably know what I'm talking about, right? One of those fake-compassion tricks people play when they want to make a moral accusation without doing the work of making a moral argument...?
For a wrap-up, I'll assume that's what your question is.
Maybe you want me to say that if I lost a child in a bombing, I'd blame the bomber pilot, or Netanyahu, or Israel as a whole....so then you could say: See? That's how Palestinians feel about Israel. Case closed.
But life isn't a tidy moral equation.
It matters who started the war. It matters who used civilians (their own and enemy civilians) as shields. It matters who deliberately targeted families and babies and celebrated it with GoPro footage.
Intent matters, not just outcome.
So if you care about children dying, please don't participate in romanticizing the groups who engineer those deaths on purpose...and that includes Hamas.
If you really care about peace, don't try to weaponize other people's grief. Instead, start listening to it.
One way to listen to it is by giving your attention to peace activists who have lost family to violence in the Levant.
Ahmed Fouad Alkhatib lost 30 family members in Gaza in December of 2023. His response to that is Realign for Palestine...and I listen to everything he cares to share.
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Hi my love <3 Can I have lavender in a âď¸ bottle? I've never needed it more than now. A conflicted r who goes to Hobie for some comfort if that's ok. I'll save my other potion for something more fun đ!
Hi pinky!! Thank you for requesting I hope you like it â¤ď¸
Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader
Word count: 1.1k
Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), insecurity, Best friends to lovers, lovestruck! Hobie, cw food mention, hurt/comfort, fluff!
One year celebration đ
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When you look at Hobie, your stomach does flips, heart pounding so fast that it makes you think that you're about to have a heart attack. He's that handsome, chiseled jawline that could cut a diamond, kissable lips and a face that just screams ârunway model.â It's not just his handsomeness, he's incredibly kind too. He irons your pajamas during the colder season just because you said that you liked it once in passing. Once, all it took was mentioning it once during a conversation and he always does it every night before bed no matter how tired he is. He kisses you good morning without fail, and smooches you before bed. Sometimes he would come home with a bundle of flowers in his hand, no matter the day, and despite what people would initially think of him, he's sweet as he can be.
Now that you two took one more step in the relationship, (way past just being friends that took awhile to get past mind you) the two of you are now living together in the cozy houseboat. You brought the same photo album you've been filling with a bunch of pictures of you and Hobie since childhood. It now sits on the bedside table, always ready to be seen by either one of you. It's like a time machine, seeing how you two grew up together from being a couple of scrappy kids to a blooming puppy love during teenage years.
You're happy with him, but there's that gnawing feeling behind your ribcage. It appears whenever someone on the street takes a look at Hobie, then a second glance over to you with a scrunch of their forehead. It rears its head again whenever someone flirts with him at the pub even though you're right beside him, holding his hand. He's perfect, too perfect for someone like you.
Sometimes you don't care about the insecurity that comes with loving someone, especially when Hobie's there to reassure you with kind and gentle words. Eyes shining for you, and lips ready to kiss away your frowns.
But after a show where he was front and center, and a pretty woman came up to him and sidled next to him like it was naturalâ they looked more like a couple compared to when you're standing side by side with him. The ugly feeling persists, making you disappear in the crowd while he looks for you in the sea of faces frantically.
You stand next to the pub together with the cigarette butts and broken glass. Eyes downcast as your gut rattles inside you. You didn't mean to tuck tail and run, but you just needed to go before you imploded. Nail picking at the cracking leather of your jacket, you hear the familiar thump of boots.
âWhen did you start smokinâ, love?â
You scoff out a small laugh, âI don't smoke.â
âThen why are you âere?â Hobie crosses the distance, hands casually in his pockets as you expected the same woman following right behind him. When he stands beside you all alone, you finally glance at his face. âYou needed some air?â
Sniffing, you nod. âYeah, I needed some air.â
âRight,â you feel his warmth beside you as he nudges you gently. âSo you won't care if I smoke right âere?â
âNot funny, Hobie.â Smiling, he finally wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his warmth. âYou quit a long time ago, I don't want you smoking again.â
âI know, lovie.â He says while nuzzling your temple, his piercing brushing along your skin. âYou know I can practically read your mind now.â
You blow a raspberry, head placed right on his shoulder as he lets you lean fully against him. âSure, aside from climbing walls you can read minds now.â
âIt's a natural ability, it came from knowing you for more than ten years.â His palm dances along your arm, warming you up.
âThanks for making me feel old.â
âIf you're old, âm old too. We grow old together, remember? Part of our deal?â Whispering, Hobie ducks his head to meet with your eyes that's illuminated by the dim yellow street light.
âYeah, I remember.â You nod as he smiles gently and kisses the tip of your nose.
âCan you tell me what's wrong? I got worried about you for a minute when you suddenly ran out.â
âI thought you could read my mind?â You raise a questioning brow.
âI think it's malfunctioninâ because you got me sweatinâ right âere.â With a gentle hand, he turns your chin up, thumb hovering above your lips. âCan you at least tell me that you're alright?â
A beat passes, and you shake your head. âNo, Iâ I think.â His brows knit together in concern. âItâs just thatâŚare you sure about me? We've been together for so long and I can't help but think that maybe you'll come around and want someone else. Someone moreâ I don't know⌠more interesting than me.â You trust Hobie, not other people. But if he wanted more than this, more than you, you'd let him go so he could be happier.
âLove,â cupping your cheeks, his eyes shimmer in the low light. âI've never been more sure âbout anythinâ else in my whole life. You're the one, I don't want someone else.â He wipes a stray tear on your cheek. âDâyou think I've stuck around this long jusâ because? I wanted this from the start, bloody hell since we were skippinâ classes I wanted this.â He makes his point across with a kiss, sweet and gentle like it's the first time. âAnd you're fuckin' interestinâ, who else has a collection of moon rocks that could be radioactive?â You chuckle at that. âIf this is âbout that randomââ
âIt's notââ
âReally? I swear I heard you killinâ her in your mind.â
âKilling is a strong word, more like maiming is better.â You joke, arms wrapping around his waist.
Chortling, he pecks each of your cheeks again, lashes fluttering atop your skin briefly. âEither way, my eyes are only on you, love. I told her to sod off when she tried gettin' handsy.â
Your sadness gets taken out by the need to slap someone. âShit, I'm going back in there.â
Hobie tugs you back to his side. âI said âtriedâ, love, Yuri saved me by flashing her smile at her and she immediately went to her instead.â
You sigh in relief. âYuri's powerful. Are you okay?â
âShe is. And yeah, âm good at dodginââ His chest feels warm as he hides his face on the crook of your neck. Wobbling you in place while the muffled music from inside the pub could be heard out in the alleyway. âWhat do you say we go home and hide under the covers until we starve and scavenge for food in the kitchen?â
You grin, touching his cheek and kissing him affectionately until you feel his legs wobble from under him. âSounds great.â
#request done#hobie brown x reader#spider punk x reader#the kr8tor's creations#hobie brown#hobie fanfic#hobie x reader#atsv hobie#atsv x reader#atsv fanfiction#hobie fluff#hobie brown fanfiction#hobie brown fluff#hobie brown hurt/comfot#one year celebration#katy's apothecary#best friends to lovers#cw food mention#hobie brown x you#hobie brown x fem!reader#spiderverse fanfic#spider punk fanfiction#x reader#fanfic
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time flies...
when captain jenna assigns you to infiltrate an intel hub disguised as a jazz club in the N109 zone, you make one simple request to the universe: donât let me run into my ex. that prayer goes unanswered. but others? you might just get lucky.
pairing: exbf!sylus x female reader warnings: MDNI, explicit sexual content, porn w plot, porn w feelings, exes w unresolved tension, possessive behavior / mild jealousy, loooots of banter, thigh rubbing build up, dirty talk, like filthy, bratty!mc, sylus wants you so bad, walk him like a dog sis, oral (m & f), eating from the back, fingering, unprotected sex, rough sex, mating press, cumming inside a/n: wrote this with one hand!!!!! i need this man so bad!!!!!!!! wc: 5.9k

"....located in the N109 zone. any questions?"
and then she shot you. captain jennaâyour fierce and until approximately five seconds ago, loyally trusted commanderâhad just fired her pistol at you within point-blank range.
you swallowed the bullet lodged in your throat before responding, reaching deep within yourself to appear as neutral as possible.
"no, captain!"
damn it all. of course your previous experience in the N109 zone would put you at the top of the list for this mission. unknown to your captain though, you'd rather chew on knives than risk a chance encounter with your ex boyfriend.
but since the intel she's assigned you to look into involves a new strain of protocore tech that mimics wanderer signatures, making it nearly undetectable and dangerous for all factions, it was high priority. and unfortunately for you, the same thought was likely running through his mind.
it'd been months since your messy breakup, months since you've spoken to each other. he wouldn't dare try anything again, especially in a compromised place like a covert jazz club.
when it came to sylus, however, you knew better.
you run through the briefing details once more in your head. this intel hub operates like most others in the N109 zone: secretive and precise. a surefire way to get yourself killed in places like these is by looking confused or unsure.
your orders are to tell the bouncer you're searching for a man wearing green inside, the color being code for the information category. according to association intel, green signifies everything related to protocores. once inside, you're to head to the bar and order an emerald isle, the contents being a gin and mint martini. the mint serving as a tip-off that you're looking for fresh, new information.
from there, you're basically on your own. the guise of a jazz club is intentional, patrons are to fraternize with their drinks visible in hand, searching for people with similar colored ones. once you find someone, you relay what drink you ordered, and if they have information on such a topic, they'll take a sip from your drink.
the catch? no refills allowed. if the person has irrelevant information, you've wasted part of your opportunity.
you saunter up to the entrance of the club, your black maxi dress shaping your body perfectly and almost causing you to disappear into the low lighting, exactly as planned. if the situation were to get threatening, your dress wouldn't be a risk.
however, this mission required you to look enticing while eyes were on you. the low, fishtail back and thin straps were sure to prompt onlookers to approach you and chat. you'd keep them in line, if not with words then with your loaded gun strapped firmly to your thigh.
you smile sweetly at the bouncer, saying everything required and getting inside without breaking a sweat. the club is busy, but not overwhelmingly so. you do a full room scan and mentally note that there are around 8 people with green drinks in handâall at different levels of fullness. after you order the emerald isle, you make your way to the floor.
time to hunt.
the moment you walked in, sylus choked on his drink.
of course you'd be the one sent here. of course the same woman who hadnât so much as looked at him in months would stroll back into his life with a drink coded for protocore intel.
the very thing that blew everything apart.
you hadnât changed a bit. still walked like you owned the room. still wore danger like perfume. and those straps clinging to your body? a challenge written in silk. that dress wasnât for him, he knew that, but he couldnât help but wonder if some part of you knew heâd be here. if some part of you wanted him to look.
hell, he was looking. couldnât stop, actually.
he leaned back in his seat on the second-floor balcony, his eyes locked on your every move through the dim haze and low lights. moments ago, heâd been halfway through a trade with the scrawny male seated across from him. but now, the man might as well be invisible. sylus couldnât care less about anything that didnât involve looking at you.
he watched you flash that fake, pretty smileâthe one you wore while you were on missions. no one else would know the difference. but he did.
when he saw the color of your drink, he almost laughed. no doubt you were here for information surrounding the new wanderer mimicking tech. the irony twisted like a blade between his ribs.
you hated him for hiding his connections to protocore manufacturing. said it was betrayal. said you couldn't trust someone who kept secrets like that. but you never saw the full picture. he was protecting you from yourself.
you didnât understand, maybe you still don't, but he hadnât been lying to hurt you. he knew what getting you involved would cost. he knew you, and the second you found out the truth about what exactly onychinus was sponsoring, it'd drag you into the depths of the mystery surrounding your aether core. he knew you wouldn't be able to stop pursuing it all, no matter what it did to you.
and now, here you were. wading waist-deep into the same fire he lost you to.
sylus clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around his glass. he should look away. should let you do what you came here to do.
but then some lowlife in a tacky rust-colored suit slithered up to you, requesting a dance. he was too close. acted too familiar. sylus watched your smile shift into something tight and forced. the kind you used when you were baiting someone.
no.
he wasnât going to just sit back. not when you were back in his orbit, whether you meant to be or not. and not when he still wanted you just as badly as the day you walked away.
this had to be some sort of punishment. you mustâve pissed off the universe in a past life to end up pressed against a man wearing the ugliest rust-colored suit known to mankind. he smelled like sweat masked with cheap cologne. every inch of him screamed sleaze. yet, here you were, letting him touch you. because, of course, the filthiest bastard in the room had the most valuable intel so far. and with your drink nearly empty, you couldnât afford to cut the dance short.
his grimy left hand rested on your waistâdrifting lower with each passing secondâwhile his other clung to his green drink like he planned to propose to it before the night was over.
"...only sold to the 1%, then trickling downwards to whoever can afford those prices. say darling, you oughta come home with me tonight. there's a lot more i can tell ya, you know, in private." his voice dripped like oil, and as he leaned in to whisper the last part, his fingers slid beneath the open hem of your back.
you resisted the overwhelming urge to pull out your pistol and really show him something private.
instead, you forced a breath and put on a tight smile. a smile that was nowhere near reaching your eyes, barely a curl on your lips. then you steered him back to the reason you were even still breathing the same air. âwho are they buying from? is there no logo? no trace of manufacturing?â
ânot a thing,â he said, grinning like he thought he was clever. âbut I did hear some old abandoned buildings around the N109 zone have been lighting up lately. enough space to test high risk tech in those.â
you could barely hold back your eye roll. the way he spoke, like you owed him something just for opening his mouth, grated on every nerve in your body. and he looked at you like he planned to collect on that imagined debt in full.
âwhereâs the closest one?â your tone had a sharp edge now. his fingers kept wandering, and your patience was running thin. you needed this conversation over. and this man dead.
"hmm? not far from here. i'd say aboutââ
he didnât get to finish.
a tall figure stepped between you and the creep, sliding a hand onto your waist in place of the one you'd been seconds from snapping in half. you didnât need to look. didnât need to double check.
you could recognize sylus by touch alone.
âmind if I cut in?â he said smoothly, his voice low and razor-sharp. âthis man appears to be more thirsty than classy.â
you sighed. worst timing possible.
"no, thank you. thatâs the idea,â you replied coolly, but it didnât matter.
sylus had already made his move. the shorter man stumbled back, face ghost-white, mumbling something that sounded like an apologyâor maybe a prayerâbefore scurrying off as if sylus had just rearranged his face with a look alone.
then, he turned to you.
he didnât speak at first, only stared. like he couldnât breathe, like he couldnât believe you were real. his gaze swept over you, slow and starving, as if he were trying to memorize every inch before you vanished again. not a trace of a smirk, just a man whoâd been sucker punched by the sight of you.
but eventually, sylus flipped the mental switch. he stepped closer, hand outstretched, voice as smooth as sin, "this place was dangerous before you walked in. now, it doesnât stand a chance.â
you stared at him, unblinking, letting the silence hang just long enough to make your point. the theatrics didnât impress you, but the corner of your mouth twitched anyway, a reflex you hated. with another sigh you stepped forward, your hand sliding into his like muscle memory.
before you could get a word in, sylus reached for the drink still in your hand. his fingers brushed yours, unhurried and deliberate, as he took it from you without asking to silently relieve the burden.
his other hand found your waist and you let yours rest on his shoulders, the familiar feel of him under your fingertips sending a shiver through you.
it was dangerous how easy it was. how quickly your steps matched the rhythm. how naturally your body leaned into his, like the time apart had never happened. the jazz music swelled around you and you both moved with it like something practiced in another life.
then his mouth was near your ear, voice dipping low as the air between you tightened. âcareful. you dance like someone who remembers exactly how I feel.â
âi dance like someone who canât wait for this song to end," you shot back, your tone sharp enough to cut.
"no," he said, like he knew something you didn't. "you dance like someone pretending the space between us isn't pulling you in.âÂ
a tense beat passed.
"poetic. a bit too drab for my taste, unfortunately."
âyou used to like the way I spoke when it was your name in my mouth.â his voice danced down your spine like a dirty promise, hot enough to make your stomach twist.
you hated it. hated that he still had this hold on you. that months later, you still reacted.
you bit back, voice steady and full of edge. âand you used to listen when I said no.âÂ
âyou never said no when it was just the two of us.â
his tone was so unbothered, so undeniably sylus. you hated how your chest ached at that. you'd buried that version of you with him a long time ago. or at least you thought you had.
you glared at him, trying to telepathically communicate how badly you wanted him to burn.
the song then faded into a slower, darker tune. like even the music knew how deadly this was becoming.
you stepped back, but only a hair. not enough to give him the satisfaction. just enough to remind yourself you still could.
his gaze followed the retreat like it hurt him to let you go. âhow did you find out about this hub? did you come alone?â
you didnât answer. instead, you turned from him. a clean, intentional break. you were done letting him circle you like he still had the right.
but his fingers caught your wrist before you could fully disappear from him again, placing your hand back on his shoulder.
âan emerald isle,â he murmured. âwhat intel are you here for?â
you looked him dead in the eyes, annoyance painting your features. âsooo many questions. do you always get this chatty when you're trying not to look desperate?"
god, he missed you. missed when you got like this with him. he loved nothing more than when you challenged him, rough and biting.
âjust concerned, sweetie. especially if what you know brought you hereâŚ" his smile curled as he spoke. "âŚlooking like this.â
âthat's too bad. you donât get to play protective anymore. that role expired." your voice came out flat and cold, like you had rehearsed the indifference.
âmmm. but it seems your feelings for me havenât, kitten.â
âfunny. i donât remember ever admitting I had them.â
âno? then why are your thighs tensing like they remember everything?âÂ
your breath hitched. not loud, but enough to make you furious with yourself. heat flushed up your throat, mortification and memory colliding in the worst possible way. you hated that he noticed. hated more that he was right. that your body reacted before your mind could catch up.
you didnât let the silence stretch. couldnât let it stretch.
"you're in my way."
sylus tilted his head, the smirk on his lips making your blood boil. âand youâre in my thoughts. every day. every night. doesnât feel fair, does it?â Â
âwhatâs not fair is how your ego somehow survived our breakup.â Â you spoke through gritted teeth, still recovering from his last blow.
âyou donât have to say it," he was grinning nowâthe bastard. "i can feel it.â Â
âwhat, your neediness?â Â you practically spit back, the tension between you thick enough to choke on.
âyours, actually. youâre shaking, kitten."
âitâs rage.â Â
âmmm. is that what weâre calling want these days?âÂ
before you could fire off something scathing, sylus wrapped his fingers around your wrist again and this time he pulls. not hard, just enough to close the last of the distance. chest brushing chest, breath mingling in the small space in between your lips.
âyou think I donât know that look in your eyes? that tilt in your hips when you dance near me? you want distance, yet your body keeps inching closer," his voice was low, fever laced into every syllable. "what am I to believe?âÂ
âi'm working, sylus. thisââ you gestured between your bodies, the closeness, the feelings, all of it. ââcanât happen again."
his smirk fades, but not into hurt. into hunger. âthen tell me to stop.â
you don't.
his fingers trace the underside of your jaw, measured and daring.
âsay it." he murmurs. "say stop.âÂ
but you don't. you canât. your lips part, but not for protest. thenâ
âis there a problem here?â a voice cuts through from behind, snapping the spell. a man steps between you and sylus, eyes flickering between your faces. âdoesnât look like you want to be with him, sweetheart. just say the word.âÂ
âstep back,â sylus says before you can even breathe, his tone icy. possessive. âyouâre in her space. thatâs the problem.â
the man falters, visibly unsettled by the sharp gleam of red in sylusâ eye. âiâm sure sheâd prefer someone who doesnât drag her around the dance floor.â
sylus smirks at him, deadly calm. âsheâs exactly where she wants to be.â
it seems the man recognizes onychinus' leader, because thatâs all it takes. the man backs off without another word.
you let the silence settle, pulse still fluttering from both the interruption and everything before it.
âjealousy doesnât suit you,â you tease, turning your head just enough to draw his eyes back to your mouth.
âneither does watching you pretend you donât miss me,â he shoots back, matching your quip as he always excelled at doing.
âi donât.â
he smirks. âliar.â
your voice sharpens. âweâre broken up, sylus. donât you recall?â Â
his gaze doesnât waver. âi remember everything. your laugh. your skin. the way you used toââ
âdonât,â you cut in, voice like a blade. âyou donât get to say those things anymore.â
he leans in anyway, close enough that you can taste the desire radiating off him.
âthen stop looking at me like that.â
âlike what?â you hiss.
his mouth curved with mischief and warning. âlike you want me to follow you upstairs.âÂ
you blinked, heart slamming so hard it hurt. and for one breath, you let yourself feel it, all the pain he left behind.
then you swallowed it whole, and drowned in him.
as you both slipped out of sight from the crowded dance floor, sylus tugged you closer, kissing you like heâd been starved. your bodies stumbled up the stairs, hands tangled and desperate, a hunger between you that neither could deny. he pressed you against the wall at the top of the stairs, his lips trailing down your neck, each kiss an act of claiming. you felt his eagerness press against you and your head swirled deliciously.
âi can feel how badly you want me,â you taunt, chest rising as you fight for composure. âwant me so bad youâd drop to your knees if I told you to, wouldnât you?â
"you could make me beg for you. and more." he pressed into you, harder now. his body solid against yours as the air became thick with want. âbut we both know you want to be the one on your knees."Â
you pull off him with a smirk of your own, opening the closest door and leading him inside. âyou think youâre the only one who knows how to play this game?â
once you both stepped into the room, you shove sylus back onto the bed. his handsome face tipped up at you from where he landed, eyes cocky and smug despite being beneath you.
"iâm the one who taught you how to play, sweetie.âÂ
you lock the door behind you with a click, leaving him on the bed to watch every calculated move you made.
you turn to face him. your steps unhurried, hips swaying like a predator with a plan. his gaze devours you as you reach the center of the room and spin your back to him.
the low hem of your dress dips scandalously, held up only by two delicate straps. you slide one down, then the other. the fabric sinks down your body, every inch a show for the man breathing heavier by the second.
the fabric hits the floor and you step out of it and cross the room. sylus sits on the edge of the bed, legs spread like he's trying not to burst at the sight of you.
you drop to your knees before him, fingers ghosting up his thighs.
you undo his belt like itâs second nature, because it is, but this time there's no soft glances or whispered promises. only tension, sweat, and the sharp edge of something darker.
you shift him out of his underwear and he's already leaking, throbbing for you. you pull him out slow, eyes locked on his like a dare. despite taking him plenty of times before, his huge length still intimidated you. and made your mouth water.
then, with his hard cock still in your hands, you tilt your head back and loll your tongue out with a dirty smile.
âfuck,â he breathes, before leaning forward and spitting directly into your open mouth.
you swirl it around with your tongue, exaggerated and filthy, before letting it drip from your lips straight onto the tip of his cock. you stroke him with it, twisting your wrist just right, watching him twitch and strain in your grasp as you spread the mess down him.
sylus manages a breathless smirk. âhas our time apart made you dirtier?â his voice is wrecked. âor have you missed me this much?â
you drag your tongue up his length, lingering on his sensitive vein, then pull back with a wet pop. the action drives him wild, and he has to bite his lip to stop himself from groaning.
your eyes gleam with something wicked. âyouâre so much more attractive when youâre moaning for me instead of talking.â
your lips part again, this time to take him in painfully slow. you twirl your tongue around his tip, the taste so familiar it makes your eyes roll back. the mix of fluids slick his cock all the way down to the base, your lips shiny and swollen around him.
then you sink lower and he canât stop staring. canât stop twitching in your mouth like heâs about to blow from just the sound of your gag. his hips jerk when the tip hits the back of your throat, and you pull off again with a sinful smirk.
âyou always get so twitchy when i barely touch you,â you purr, stroking him with lazy precision. âwhat happened to that control you're so proud of?â
his jaw tightens at your jab, hands gripping the edge of the bed so hard his knuckles go white. while he did enjoy you challenging him, you were working his last nerve.
you lean in once more, smiling with satisfaction at his reaction. your movement light on his aching cock, suckling and teasing, never committing. your hands move unhurried, your mouth even slower, and his whole body is trembling from restraint.
sylus lets out a low, ruined growl. âkeep teasing me and you'll regret it, kitten.â
âis that a threat or a promise?â you whisper, licking along the underside of his shaft. âbecause it sounds a lot like begging to me.â
his hands tremor like he wants to grab you, but you stay in control. for now.
you now take him with vigor, enough to make him moan, then stop. again. and again. always just a little more, never enough. he's throbbing in your grip, leaking like he could cum from this alone.
âfuck,â he mutters. âyouâre gonna drive me insane.â
you pout with faux innocence. âwhat, this?â you give him a long, slow lick, eyes full of mockery. âclose already?â
and then he snaps.
in a blur of motion, sylus grabs you by the hair, pulls you up, and throws you onto the bed, flat on your back.
you barely have time to gasp before he's on you, all passion and vengeance. he slides between your thighs, yanking your panties off like they personally committed your aggravating acts.
âyou wanna tease?â he snarls, breath hot against your inner thigh. âthen fucking take it.â
his mouth hovers just above your dripping cunt, teasing you now. his turn to play. he breathes against your folds, lips barely brushing, just enough to make you whimper.
âwhatâs wrong, sweetie?â he taunts, voice thick with revenge and lust. âthought you liked going slow.â
you reach down and twist your fingers in his hair, yanking his face into you with a growl of your own.
âeat. or i will ride your face and make you regret waiting.â
sylus keens at your words, tongue diving in like a man starved. he loved when you got rough with him, turning him on like no other.
you moan right back at the feeling of him, legs already starting to shake. there's no more teasing in his movements, heâs messy, frantic, seemingly obsessed. his mouth is somehow everywhere at once, like heâs trying to drown in your taste.
you writhe under him, losing every ounce of control you once held. and he doesnât stop. not even when your thighs close around his head. not even when you scream his name.
thereâs no finesse, just open mouthed hunger, his tongue and lips on a mission to touch every part of you. then he adds two fingers, slipping in deep and curling them just right, hitting that spot you never could on your own. you gush around them, soaking his hand, and he groans like the mess is a gift.
you clutch the sheets below you, the sensation too much and not enough. every time his nose nudges your clit, every hit of his perfectly angled fingers, your body jolts. the bed creaks below you as he pushes you closer and closer to that high you've been chasing for months. but nothing, nothing, ever touched you like this.
your orgasm starts barreling toward you and right when you're on the cusp of mind numbing pleasureâ
he slows down.
right as your toes curl and your thighs tense, he pulls back. you whine, strung out and soaked.
youâre about to beg when you notice the bed is still shaking. not just from you.
sylus is grinding against the mattress. hard and desperate.
you let out a breathless, evil little laugh. âyouâre humping the bed? iâm the one getting eaten alive, and youâre the one falling apart?â
you shouldâve stopped there. you really shouldâve.
but you smirk, lift your hips so you can meet his eyes, and whisper, âwhat, couldnât wait your turn?â
his face changes at that, deep and pissed, then he grabs your hips and flips you onto all fours like you weigh nothing.
âshouldâve filled your throat with cum to shut that mouth,â he hisses into your ear.
before you can reply, his hands are spreading you open and his mouth is back on you. from behind.
his tongue laps at your entrance, filthy and unrelenting, while his fingers sneak down to bully your clit in ruthless circles. your arms give out at the same time as your legs begin to buckle, but he doesnât let you fall. one strong arm wraps around your waist whilst the other pleasures you without mercy.
you greedily grind your ass into his face and he groans at the action like he wants to live between your thighs. you clench around his tongue, fluids mixing together, and the mess just spurs you on further. spurs him on further. the building liquids slide down your legs, coating his face and all he wants is more.
youâre about to fall apart all over again when he pulls away in one fluid motion.
your body collapses onto the bed, shaking from the sudden change. you roll onto your back, dazed and desperate.
sylus wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, not even trying to be subtle, and spreads your legs wide. his eyes drink in the sight, as if your glistening pussy was some divine offering.
you pout, fingers drifting toward your clit, desperate to finish what he stole. but sylus grabs your wrist, pins it above your head, and lines himself up with you. his neglected cock dripping with precum as he slides it between your folds.
you bite your lip at how heavy and huge he is. the head alone makes your thighs tremble.
then he leans down, mouth right against your ear.
âyouâre not cumming,â he murmurs, slow and cruel, âunless itâs on my cock.â
your breath stutters. itâs been months since you took him, months since your body was trained for that stretch. he was so big, it hurt. you swallow hard, pride burning at your own words.
"just⌠not too fast,â you say, trying to stay steady. âokay?â
he tilts his head, mocking you with that fake-soft voice. âof course, sweetie. whatever you need.â
he kissed your forehead like the lover he once was.
then slammed his full length inside you.
your mouth opens in a silent scream. heâs thick, obscene, and the sudden stretch makes your vision fade out. you claw at his biceps, nails digging in, but he doesn't care.
âyou thought that bratty little attitude was gonna earn you favors?â he grits out, voice strained and dark with desire.
he pulls out almost completely, then drives back in deeper. harder.
âbe good and take it.â
your mind is reeling, your body even worse. you're clenching around him like a vice, almost trying to force him to slow down. he doesn't.
in fact, he lets go of the hand pinning yours above your head and grabs your hips instead, tilting them up and fucking into you faster. heâd force you to take it. you always liked it rough.
"just needed some dick to shut you up, hmm?" he stated, each word hitting with the rhythm of his thrusts.
you almost choke. he was drilling so deep it felt like he was aiming for your throat. his hand then slid over your stomach and pressed down, and he grinned above you like the smug devil he is when he felt himself moving inside you.
"shut upânghhâ'n fuck me harder." you manage out, your tone not matching the challenge in your voice even slightly.
your body remembered him now. that stretch, that angle. you were soaking him, walls practically begging for him. his cock slipped in and out like he owned it. because he does.
sylus realizes it too, because he leans in, pushing impossibly deeper before gloating in your face. "this pussy missed me. sheâs crying for it."
you try to snap something back, something sharp, anything to bite into his smugness. but it dies on your tongue the second his hips grind into yours. his cock drags deep and slow, just once, and your whole body locks up. the stretch is somehow overwhelming and perfect. like you were made for him.
your fingers scramble over his back, clinging to him for stability, but all you can manage is a strangled, âfuck, sylusââ
his rhythm falters, just for a second, but you feel it. his gaze snaps to yours, suddenly serious. his body stills then, cock twitching inside you. it seemed like he was searching for something in you that he was too scared to name.
he leans in once more, but this time not to hit deeper. to look at you, really look. his breath fanned your lips, your cheeks, your throat.
"you missed me too," he says. no question in it.
you want to lie. bite back with something petty and proud. but your pussy clenches around him like itâs answering for you, loud and shameless.
your chest heaves as you stare up at him. your throat aches from holding back all the things you swore youâd never say.
and still, you whisper it.
âyours.â
sylus goes rigid at your confession.
you feel a shudder pass through his entire body. he clenched his jaw while his hands trembled against your waist, grip tightening. then something breaks. he manhandles your thighs up and wide, body looming over yours.
âsay it again.â he demands in between guttural grunts. âsay youâre mine.â
you wail at the change in position, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes and pleasure twisting in your belly like a storm. â'm yours. fuckâsylus, iâm yours.â
his chest pins your thighs to your torso, folding you nearly in half. the angle makes your head dizzy, an entirely new world of bliss. youâre split open, completely at his mercy, and your cunt pulses around him like it knows itâs where it belongs.
âfucking say it while I ruin you.â his voice cracks, hips pistoning forward again and again. heâs completely unraveling, thrusts messier now, more desperate.
you chant it like a mantra. âyours, yours, yoursââ
âlook at you,â he grunts, sweat dripping from his jaw onto your chest. âtaking me so good now. tight little pussy just needed a reminder.â
his pace is brutal and unrelenting. your thighs shake, pinned wide open, helpless to do anything but feel every inch of him. be filled by him.
his eyes donât leave yours. thereâs hunger there, but you also notice something raw too. that longing feeling you thought only you felt.
sylus dips down, lips brushing yours, and murmurs against your mouth. âyou really gonna go back out there like this?â
you blink at him, dazed. âhuh?â
âfull of me,â he snarls, hitting deep enough to knock the breath from your lungs. âmy cum soaking your thighs while you try to finish your mission. think you can keep it in?â
you moan loudly at his filthy words and he grins against your cheek.
âsay you want it. say you want me to fill you up.â
you donât even hesitate.
âyes please! sylus, want it!â
âsay it right.â he commands, snapping his hips so hard the bed frame groans. âtell me who you belong to.â
âyou! âm yoursâfuckâplease cum inside me!â
he loses it.
his grip tightens bruisingly on your hips, dragging you down to meet every savage thrust. the drag of his cock is erratic, his body shuddering above yours.
âgonna fill you up,â he pants, âmake you mine all over againâshit!âyouâre gonna leak for me, kitten. gonna walk outta here with my cum dripping down your thighs and everyone knowing you let me claim you.â
the possessiveness in his voice sends you spiraling. your pussy clenches tight, fluttering around him like your bodyâs already begging for it. the tension in your belly coils impossibly tight. every hard, brutal thrust inside you making your vision blur.
âsylus,â you gasp, pitch high and breathless, âclose, pleaseââ
âyou wanna cum on my cock?â he asked, slamming into you with the full force of his weight. âwanna milk me while I fill this cunt up?â
you nod frantically, tears spilling down your cheeks. âyes, yes! please, wanna cum with you, wanna feel you!â
sylus drops his head to your shoulder, teeth scraping your skin. "go on, then. show me how bad you want me."
and you do.
you shatter with a loud cry, your orgasm hitting like a wave that floods your senses. you clench tight around him in spasms that make your back arch off the bed and your fingers dig into his back to anchor yourself. you sob his name as your pussy pulses around him, your entire body wrung out and shaking.
âthatâs it,â he moans deeply, his rhythm stuttering as your walls clamp down. âso tightââ
and heâs right there with you.
with a sharp groan, he drives himself deep to bury every inch inside. his hips jerk and his cock twitches as he spills into you, hot and thick. his voice breaks as he utters your name out like a prayer. one hand squeezes your thigh tight while the other trembles on your waist, trying to hold himself together while he fills you up.
youâre shaking, panting into his shoulder, pulling him close as his warmth spills into you. he doesnât pull out. not yet. just stays there, breathing ragged against your skin, forehead pressed to yours.
your body trembles with aftershocks, cunt fluttering weakly around his cock, milking every drop from him like your body refuses to let him go.
âfuck,â he whispers, voice almost gentle. âyou were made for me.â
youâre still dazed, your brain lagging behind the high. you can feel him dripping out of you already, warm and slick between your thighs.
he leans in, brushing a kiss to your temple, like the lover he is.
âyou better squeeze those legs shut when you leave,â he murmurs, cocky smirk creeping back in. âi donât want anyone seeing whatâs mine.â
a/n(2): first time writing sylus, hope i did him justice >_< likes and reblogs r super appreciated, lmk your thoughts on this!!!
@mcdepressed290 here is your tag friend as requested. hope u enjoy!!!
#love and deepspace#love and deepspace sylus#sylus#lnds sylus#lnds#lnds smut#lads sylus#lads smut#lads sylus smut#love and deepspace sylus smut#l&ds sylus#l&ds smut#sylus smut#l&ds sylus smut#sylus qin#lnd smut#sylus x mc#sylus x reader#sylus x you#lads#lads mc#lads x reader#lnds x you#lnds mc#lnds sylus smut#l&ds#l&ds x you#l&ds x reader#l&ds mc#smut
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BATBOYS BUT THEY SEE F!STREAMER!READER PLAYING SMASH OR PASS WITH THEIR HERO PERSONAS WHILE COSPLAYING AS THEM ON STREAM.

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TAGS: older!damian wayne, older!duke thomas, did someone ask for some crack?, suggestive content (it's smash or pass, people), dirty talk, surprise surprise those boys remain majorly obsessed with you, mention of the boys getting boners, yeah... this one's not for minors, duke glows when he's flustered and it's so cute
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A/N: this one was requested! and omg, the hero that slid into my inbox sure has one hell of a creative mind. srsly, this was such a good idea, i had to add it to the main timeline đ¤ just a heads up though, because this is suggestive content, i will not be using the taglist. i don't tag for suggestive content as i have no way of checking if you are acc an appropriate age for it or not. oh and as always, you do not need to have read the other parts of this series to get this one!!
â
F!STREAMER!READER MASTERLIST â

Jason's mouth is dry, tongue like sandpaper as he stares at the title of your stream displayed clearly on his phone: Cosplaying as Gotham's vigilantes!
It takes no less than five seconds for Tim to come stumbling into the room.
"Did you see the stream name?!"
Jason doesn't answer, doesn't think he can. He's too busy staring at his screen in bewilderment to even begin to formulate words at the moment.
But he doesn't need to honestly, something else responds to Tim instead.
A low whistle.
Dick strides into the room. "Forget the name, did you see the thumbnail?"
As though summoned by just the mention of you (or rather, the thought of someone thirsting over you) Damian pops in not a moment after, lips pulled down into a scowl.
"Use those eyes of yours to prey on her, and I will make sure you lose them."
And then, as if to put the final cherry on top of the Wayne family cake gathered in the living room, Duke enters, all but ignoring his brothers in favour of grabbing the remote and using their amazon stick to navigate the TV to Twitch, immediately clicking onto your stream.
All of their eyes dart to the screen.
"That's right, guys! You read the stream name. Your girl's gonna cosplay everyone's favourite group of Gotham vigilantes!"
There you stand, a smile on your face and your eyes crinkled at the corners, looking just as pretty as the week before, and the week before that, and the week before thatâ
God, you're so pretty.
"Now, you might be wondering: say [Name], how come you're suddenly cosplaying when your channel is usually about playing video games?"
You disappear off-screen, the sound of shuffling causing the boys' saliva to roll down their throat.
"Well, my friends, to put it simplyâyour girl is about to head to Gotham for a Meet-N-Greet, and is hoping this stream will catch the eyes of the vigilantes there so I can gift you guys with a very special collaboration stream."
The room was already silent before, but after your words, it somehow seemed to double, the boys all staring at the screen with wide, dilated eyes.
You want to catch their attention. Beautiful, perfect you wants to collab with them. Them.
"Holy shit," Tim whispers, breathless and in that familiar daze only you can put him in.
"Fuck me." Jason runs a hand through his hair.
The stream chimes with a donation.
@/therealdamianwayne donated $15,000! They would be lucky to even be in your presence, Beloved.
You giggle, the lower half of your face hiding behind your hands as you bashfully look away from the camera. "Thanks, Damian."
The demon head's lips only quirk up even further at his brother's scalding glares.
The static sound of you clearing your throat reverts their attention back to you though.
"Anyway, does anyone have a suggestion on who I should start with?"
@/dukethomas donated $1,000! what about the signal?
The bats turn to send their daggered eyes to Duke, but he doesn't even spare them a glance, his own eyes too wide with hope as he stares at the screen of the TV.
"Oh! So glad you suggested him actuallyâ"
Woah, woah, woah, what? You're glad he suggested himself? Holy shit, Duke thinks his heart just tried to lunge out of his chest.
In fact, he's so focused on the pink feeling that just engulfed him, that he misses the rest of what you say, and in a blink, is faced with your empty room as you disappear somewhere to change into the outfit.
And when you come back on screen? All dressed up in his metal-plated armour? With his name practically written all over you?
Well... Duke doesn't think he's ever seen such a beautiful sight in his life.
"Thomas, quit blinding me."
Duke blinks, glancing around to see his brothers squinting in his direction, faces scrunched up and mouths pulled into scowls as they regard the light with disdain like the bats that they are.
"Sorry guys." He chuckles awkwardly.
But before he can dim the glow surrounding him, your voice catches his ears.
"'Smash or pass The Signal?' Oh, hard smash."
The way he brightens next is half intentional, and half not. Half intentional because he can feel the way his pants strain against his crotch. And half not because, holy fucking shit, you said you'd smash him.
Before Damian can hiss again at his light, Duke already rushes straight out of the room.
The Wayne heir's lips pull down. "Disgusting."
@/greatestdetective donated $1,000! can you do red robin next?
In an instant, the remaining brothers turn to send the resident sleep-deprived detective very pointed glares, green radiating off them in waves as he shamelessly stares at the screen with dilated pupils.
"Sure thing!"
"You are utterly perverse." Damian points at Tim, brows furrowed and tone screaming judgement.
Tim only scoffs in response. "Oh please, like you aren't waiting just as much to see if she'd smash you."
He catches a batarang right before it hits his face.
"What the fuck?!"
Damian's teeth grind over each other. "Do not accuse me of such shallow thoughts towards my beloved."
"You almost killed me, dude!"
"And I would do it again."
"So? How do I look?"
Instantly, Tim's anger flushes straight out of his system, gaze darting to the screen as he mindlessly catches yet another batarang aiming straight between his eyes.
"Oh fuck..."
You're stood there, hands resting on your hips as you adorn his suit like it belongs on you, like he belongs on you.
His fingers move before his mind can.
@/greatestdetective donated $5,000! smash or pass?
"Geez, again?" You sweatdrop, reaching your hand behind his cowl much like he does when he's nervous. You two share nervous habits, holy shit. "Y'all will think I'm a slut for this but, I don't care. Smash."
With that, you've reduced Tim to a curled up ball, blush heavy on his face, pupils dilated to the sun and back, and mouth muttering obsessively about his love for you.
"Alright, since we're doing the boys, I might as well go through all of them before getting to the girls, hm?" You smile at the camera before sending it a little wink. "Anyone else wanna suggest who I should change into next?"
@/jaybird donated $10! red hood
Dick curses, his phone just short of in his hands as he sends a glare to a very smug-looking Jason stood with his arms crossed and his gaze trained onto the TV.
"Oh? The bad boy?" You giggle from the other side of the screen, hand cupping your mouth much like it did when Damian sent in a donation earlier, that same way the boys recognise as your signature move when you're flustered. "Sure thing!"
Needless to say, the two remaining brothers that have yet to be brought up on your stream are very much boiling beneath the skin.
Something which, is only furthered by the next thing you say.
"I don't quite have his buildâwhich, by the way, is insane. I mean, have you guys seen the muscles on that man? Hot damn. I'd love for him to throw me around."
"Beloved...?" Damian mutters, voice wavering and pupils shaking.
Dick follows after by falling to his knees all dramatic-like, and if Tim hadn't been in a trance, and Duke was in the room rather than who-knows-where to take care of that little problem of his, those two would probably also react with just as much as despair at your words.
Jason, however, lets his jaw drop so low, flies could probably enter his mouth and choke him to deathâassuming he hasn't already died from your audacious words, that is.
He's seen people thirst over him online before, of course. But for that to be you? For you to find himâscar-filled, ugly-hearted himâattractive?
Someone better pinch him 'cause he must be dreaming.
"Here I come!"
You stroll in, hands in the pockets of his jacketâhis jacketâand face completely out of view, completely engulfed by his mask.
Oh yeah, he's definitely dreaming.
He blinks, watching with a dry mouth as you strike a pose.
"Well? Badass, huh?"
Badass, but, missing something.
It's okay to be a little selfish and ask for more, right?
@/jaybird donated $15! you're missing the guns sweetheart
"Oh! Right you are, Jaybird." You perk up, and the tone of your voice is enough for Jason to tell you're flashing him a smile beneath his mask. "Hope I don't get banned for this."
You disappear off-screen and reappear not a moment later dual-wielding pistols. Dual-wielding. pistols.
Holy shit, that's hot.
So hot, in fact, that Jason can feel the room getting warmer, warm enough to shrink his pants actually.
...
Oh shit.
"Barbarians," Damian starts, his tone screaming all the disgust written over his face, "I live in a house surrounded by barbarians."
Jason narrows his eyes right back at the man, but his eye-contact is swiftly broken the second he hears aâ"Smash,"âcoming from the TV, and his pants tighten even further.
Damian scowls in disgust.
"Right. I think only Robin's left of all the boys? Not including Batman of course."
Dick's scream breaks the other two brother's out of their staring contest.
@/sweetestassingotham donated $5,000! what about nightwing babe???
You frown at the camera, Jason's helmet now off and placed to the side, tilting your head all cutely. "Isn't Nightwing a BlĂźdhaven vigilante?"
@/sweetestassingotham donated $5,000! hes sometimes in gotham too :((((
You place a hand beneath your chin, gaze far-off, thinking, before you lift a finger and flash the screen a smile. "Right you are! I think I have a cosplay of him lying around here somewhere? Might be a bit small though, I remember wearing it to a costume party a few years back."
And just like that, Dick's earlier scream of dismay turns into one of delight.
"I gotta say though, sweetest ass in Gotham"âyou giggle off-screenâ"if we're counting Nightwing as a resident of Gotham, you've got some competition. Have you seen the cake on that guy? Ugh. Another huge smash."
Dick collapses to his knees, thanking everything that he was blessed with such a sweet ass and chose to flaunt it so that you would be able to see and notice that he is very smash-able and that you should indeed, 100% hook up with him when you come to Gotham.
Jason seems to beg to differ however, lips shifting into a scowl before a bang resounds through the room, and Dick is up on his feet in an instant.
"You just shot at me!" He points straight at the younger man, who all but shrugs in response.
"No I didn't. You were just in the way of my bullet."
Dick gawks.
Your voice sounds from the screen.
"Okay, uh, it fits, but it's a little tight, so don't make fun of me, okay guys?"
Dick's, Jason's, and Damian's eyes all instantly shoot to the screen.
You enter, hands running down the skin-tight suit on your body with your lips pulled into an unsure smile.
And as if that sight wasn't enough to bless the boys, you proceed to turn around, head tilting over your shoulder as you use the lens of the camera to check yourself out in Dick's clothes.
To check your ass out in Dick's clothes.
The sound of a camera shutter echoes through the room.
Then another. And another. And anotherâ
Both Jason and Damian turn to see Dick with his eyes trained onto you, entirely in a trance as he repeatedly presses his thumb against the screen of his phone, each time causing the device to echo the sound of a camera shutter.
It takes only a second for Damian to lunge.
"You perverted piece ofâ"
Dick books it straight out of the room, and Damian goes to follow, ready to use every single technique his grandfather taught him to rain hell on his father's ward for daring to look at you in such a way, when, just like how it always does with all his other brothers, the sound of your voice brings him to an abrupt halt.
"Alright, now it's just Robin left, right?"
His eyes slowly drag themselves to the screen.
"Alright, little confession time, I've always kind of imagined how romantic it would be to have Robin swing into my room just before bed to wish me a good night," you say, and in it's in a voice that's bashful, nervous, maybe even a little embarrassed.
Oh, Beloved, you have nothing to be embarrassed of.
God, if Damian only knew of this before, he would've taken the trip all the way to your city just to swing into your window and wish you good night a long time ago.
"I don't know, I guess he's just got this charm to him."
Be still, his heart.
But how could it?
"Alright, here goes nothing. Final boy vigilante of Gotham."
Damian watches, breathless, as you step into the light like a moonbeam peeking through clouds.
You stand there, hands wound around his hood as you pull it over your head, your smile as radiant as ever and his clothes fitting you so perfectly, they might as well be yours over his.
And as you send another wink at the camera with another, simple but effectiveâ"Smash,"âDamian's brain turns to static.
You have now simply and effectively reduced all the batboys into putty with just one stream.
And you don't even know it.
COMING NEXT -> BATBOYS BUT THEY ATTEND F!STREAMER!READER'S MEET-N-GREET.
#female reader#x reader#dc#dc x reader#dick grayson x reader#jason todd x reader#tim drake x reader#duke thomas x reader#damian wayne x reader#damian al ghul x reader#batfam#batfam x reader#batfamily x reader#dick grayson#jason todd#tim drake#duke thomas#damian wayne#damsel writes â¤ď¸
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ę° :đĽ [ Till death do us part ] ââĄáľęąËË âˇ âŻ
Summary : What if Alastors dear little darling wife, his partner in crime, the person he thought he'd never see again, turns up with Mimzy on the day of the visit of the big boss of hell.
Pairing : Alastor x fem! Reader
Word count : 1899 Words
Genre : Fluff , Drama , Angst
Warnings âľ Mentions of death, you're shorter than
Vaggie, possessive Alastor, swearing
Prequel -> > The radio star lost <
a/n : I love this trope ngl, tried to not make him to much out of character, hope it worked.. T T
Also I'm rather new to Hazbin Hotel, so I say sorry if anythings seems wrong or out of character! ><
ââââââââââââââââââââââââââ ¡ ďťż ¡ ďťż ¡ ďťż ¡ âĄ
The whole hotel was a bit chaotic right now, Lucifer himself would be visiting in just a bit and Charlie wanted everything to be perfect. Colorful decorations were hanging everywhere, a banner was hung up for welcoming the king of hell, how does one even welcome the king of hell into their hotel? Charlie was probably the most stressed of all, but Vaggie did her best to calm her nervous wreck of a girlfriend down.
The moment Lucifer stepped into the hotel was meant to make everything go down, Alastor and his Ego had somehow always a snarky remark against Lucifer. Charlie tried her best to keep them apart, introducing her other friends, before she announced how she would be needing his help. And again the banter between the king of hell and the radio demon started all over again. As if throwing insults at each other before wasn't enough already, now they were pulling at Charlie left and right, like two babies fighting over a toy.
But all things come to an end, which Charlie was thankful for right now, as Mimzy, apparently a friend of Alastor, which was interesting to know he even had any, came barging in with a grand entrance. As the woman now settles down at the bar, talking with the others, Alastor and Charlie took Lucifer on a walk around, Husker disappearing for a second too, but soon joining them at the bar again, a scowl on his face, but something else, undescribable behind his eyes.
A bang was heard through the whole hotel as the entrance door was slammed open and heard could be an angry voice. "MIMZY! You little bitch!" A demon, a slight bit shorter than Vaggie probably, walked in. A scowl evident on the face, as her eyes scan over the place, before falling on the woman she was looking for. "How dare you leave me in the shit like that?! You've got it coming if those sharks don't kill you, I certainly will!" Ignoring the questioning looks of Angel and Husker, you stomp over to the blonde, ready to yank at her hair, when suddenly a bit of debris was thrown through the window and landed beside you, barely missing you by a hair. "The fuck?" The demon's head craned around, looking out the window and there they were, those fuckers Mimzy was in debt to.
You didn't really have time to react much, as three people stormed into the entrance hall, all you could catch was a glimpse of red before the person ran outside, screams of the sharks could be heard, at least those were finally taken care of.
The loan sharks were gone and fought off quickly by that person, his voice now directed to Mimzy, your own eyes on her yourself with a scowl. She and that red demon apparently knew each other quite well, as Mimzy was walking to the door, you finally really looked at the demon. He had short red and black hair, ears sat atop his head, despite scowling Mimzy he was smiling, though a sinister smile it seems. His attire was almost completely red too, a cane was clutched in his hands, as he watched Mimzy walk off, you could only make out a small part of his face. The man seemed so familiar as if you had known him for a long time.. Your heart was running a mile right now, it was getting hard to breathe, and then...
"Thank you Alastor, really.." The long-haired blonde spoke up.. That name, it couldn't be right? Mimzy would've told you, she knew him, she would've definitely told you.. right? You must be mistaken right now.. Your eyes were fixated on the man called Alastor, the voices and sounds around you were all a mush, drowned out as your brain was going all around. Now that you could see his face, he definitely had some resemblance to him.. to your late husband, who had died before you. You were his assistant, his partner in crime, when the news hit you that he was shot, it broke your heart, but still, you continued on alone, killing. That's probably what also got you to hell, well sooner than later you were figured out and soon arrived here in hell.
"Yo smiles, this girly is gawking at you for minutes now." Slowly voices were coming back to you, the white spider beside you talked, pointing his thumb at you, the red-haired now meeting your eyes, his ears straightening and standing alert like the ones of a deer caught in headlight. What irony if he was your Alastor, the irony of dooming him with deer-like features, after getting shot assumed for a deer while hiding one of the many bodies. That day you decided to let him go alone, oh if you just hadn't done that, maybe you both would be alive or you would've at least arrived together in hell.
Alastor was taking slow steps to you, the smile on his face looking strained, yet it never disappeared, his hand was reaching out for you but stopped. Eyes moving over your form, taking in everything. Resemblance to his wife evident, but.. how did he never notice you before? Had he ever met you, walked past, maybe even taken a second glance but dismissed this feeling he has right now.
Swiftly he grabs your wrist, dragging you behind him, ignoring the calls of his name of the other residents, his mind plagued by one only thought, more like one only person.. you.
Stumbling behind him, his grip rather firm on your wrist, yet it felt comforting as if you knew he would never hurt you. Not in your lifetime and also not now in your afterlife. Eyes watching the back of his head, you were wondering what expression his face harbors right now. Was he happy? Was he confused? Disappointed? Maybe he knew where you were all this time but didn't want to meet you. No, he wasn't like this. He may have been distant sometimes while alive, but in the end, he was always a darling to you. Taking care of you, just as he vowed on your wedding day. A distant memory, yet one of the most beautiful ones you have.
A door was opened and as you were pulled inside, the door closed. Steps echoed through the room, you noticed a forest on the other side of the room, but that didn't rather faze you, eyes on him again.. and him only. "Al-" You were interrupted by laughter, the man before you was hugging himself, his arms around him, yet you still weren't able to see his face. "D-Do you know.. How often have I thought about you?!" His voice was loud, a static sound like from a radio accompanied it. One of his hands was tearing at his hair now. "That bitch never told me... I'll make sure to kill her for that.. She kept you from me.." The laughter got even louder, as if the man before you was going insane.
This behavior was nothing new to you, he used to be like this, high on adrenalin when another murder was successful.. Or when he was close to being figured out by the police and detectives, yet he always slipped away right through their incapable fingers.
"I always wondered what happened to you, if you grew old with someone new.." If you were able to see his face right now, you would be able to see the sinister yet possessive smile on his face, his eyes darting around the room.
This all ended in a second when he felt a soft hand on his. He knew this hand, he also knew the person it belonged to like the front of his pocket. "I would never, I carried on alone in your memories, yet I was never as skilled as you darling, so sooner than later they connected all the dots to me." A low chuckle could be heard again, the static radio sound calmed down again too. The tall man slowly turned around now, his hand engulfing your own, his fingers softly running over your own, before he linked them together. How he had missed this feeling, despite having a distaste for people touching him, you were different. Your touch felt warm, like the summer sun kissing his skin, it felt comforting.
"I've missed you mon amour.." His voice was soft, probably the softest it had ever been since he had arrived in hell. His hand guides yours up to his lips, as he closes his eyes and presses a soft kiss to the back of your hand, a smile, now softer, on his lips. He was never one for kissing you on the lips, he definitely favored kissing your hand, like the gentleman he has always been. "I figured with how you were talking seconds ago my dear.." A soft smile was creeping up onto your lips too, mirroring his own one. Red eyes open again, your hand still pressed to his face, but now he was rather holding your hand to his cheek. "Oh how I wished I could've stayed with you my darling, we would've been so successful.." Giggling at his words, with him at your side, you probably would have been going for a long time. "But who says we can't be successful now?" A smirk etched its way onto your husband's face, oh how he loved your daring little mind, always thirsting for blood. With you by his side again now, he would definitely be able to get everything done that he wanted.
"Shall we go back? I want to meet your friends properly." Wanting to pull away your hand, he softly gives you a tug, your head landing on his chest now. Wide eyes look the the side now, as you weren't really able to move, his arms having snaked around you and his chin resting on your head. This was unusual much physical contact, but figured that you hadn't seen each other for multiple decades he yearned for your touch just a slight bit. Your arms lying around him, embracing the hug. "Let's just stay here a few minutes more, we got enough time to introduce you to everyone down there but for now.. let me have you for myself." Nodding softly, your head rests on his chest, as your eyes close and you simply enjoy the presence of your dearly beloved husband.
"What do you mean 'married to smiles'?!" Angel, as he was introduced to you, shouted from his place on the couch now, staring at you flabbergasted. "We've been married for quite a few years before his death." Smiling you answered his question. Alastor didn't like all the attention you were getting, but sooner than later he would have you all to himself again when you two go back to his cozy hotel room or the radio tower. "So you two fu-" Angel wasn't even able to finish his question before he shut himself up as he noticed the look on Alastors face. This time he would've been dead for sure if he finished that question.
Overall everyone invited you happily into their little hotel family, it was amazing. Charlie immediately took a liking to you and if you're being honest she quickly was viewed by you like a daughter.
#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel#alastor x you#alastor imagine#alastor#alastor x reader#x you#x reader#imagine#imagines#hazbin hotel imagine#hazbin imagine
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The Guilty Plea
SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x FEM!READER TASK FORCE 141 x FEM!READER
Traitors Among Us (Part 1) and Innocents Among You (Part 2)
Verdict Due (Part 4) Clear Skies (Part 5)
Summary: As you're discharged from the infirmary, under watchful eye, you head to Laswell to talk on the rest of your now ruined military career. Of course, you're forced to confront your team as it happens, the last people on earth you'd like to see.
If you liked this would you Buy me a Coffee?
---
Running your fingers along the raised, pink scar across you cheek, the feeling of it...it really looked terrible. A part of you thought it would disappear, hoped it would, but it didn't. It just became severely more noticeable. Looking at this, you knew you'd always have to think of it. You'd sport this reminder for the rest of your life.
Looking away from it, you find your own tired eyes in the mirror, you haven't been sleeping well. Or at all. You can't remember the last time you got 4 hours, let alone 8. Dark circles still surrounded them but at least the bruising and the swelling had gone down.
You couldn't recognize yourself. Not really.
This woman looked so exhausted, so frail and so goddamn angry. It was accurate, it was how you felt. All of it. So, you supposed that the mirror's reflection was the truth, this was you indeed.
"If you need another day or two, no one will ask questions."
You glance over towards your psychologist, your fucking therapist, a nice little 'gift' sent over by the bureau to check in on your mental state after your ordeal. Glaring at him through the reflection of your mirror, he sighs, putting down his pen that slaps against his notepad, "I can't help you if you don't talk to me."
"I'm going to Laswell." Ignoring his statement, you speak. "I'm ready. I'll pack up. Get back to base. Vera had me discharged from the infirmary. I can start ov--"
"Vera?"
"My nurse. You met her," you continued, annoyance spiking at the interruption. Your wrist brace squeaking quietly under the pressure of your fist tightening beneath the table.
"Right..."
"Do you listen to a word I say outside of...my 'trauma'?" You wonder, bluntly.
Your psychologist blinks, surprised, before clearing his throat, appalled. "If you feel I can be more attentive to your state of well-being throughout our process, than by all means--"
"Oh, so 'no'?" you lean back into your seat, a strained laugh leaving you. His lips press together and you continue before he can find the words. "Because whenever I mention leaving this fucking team, you either adjust our schedule for another two weeks or suggest hypnotic therapy, as if I need anyone else digging around to fuck up my mental state."
"I never meant to imply--"
"Oh, you implied it," you interrupted, gritting your teeth. "I know what I want. And I want off Task Force 141."
He taps at the leather of his notebook. "Scars heal, just remember that, Ms. (L/n). The reminders of your experience shouldn't have to haunt you."
"It's not the scars, I've had my share way before this," you admitted, rising to your feet. You exhale deeply that tells to the effort of it, the steel gear hinges along your leg braces shift with your change of position. Still getting use to them. "It's the person."
"Has she changed, you think?" the psychologist begins to write, getting somewhere.
"She doesn't exist anymore."
Finally, placing the mirror down and onto the side table, you pushed off of the table, rolling your IV pole along with you. Passing the chair your psychologist sits on, he closes his notebook with a frustrated huff, looking over his shoulder. "Session over for you already, Ms. (L/n)?" he sighs. "We've still got the hour."
"I'm done," you take the knob in your hand. Turning.
In more ways than one.
"You understand that, informing your captain on your leave is required of you. Have you spoken to any of them, in the last few weeks?" he spoke up, quickly. "I'm sure giving them a space to open up, share from their view--"
"Why should I care--"
"--will give you better understanding, better clarity of the situation they were in--
Appalled. "What the fuck?" Jamming the door closed with a loud, shuttering thud, you whip around. "IT'S NOT ABOUT THEM!" you could just rip your hair out. "Who--who says that to someone?!"
Your psychologist sits there, eyes wide in confusion. "What--"
"Christ, can you hear me? Can you--can you see me? I've got metal plates in my spine, braces holding my knees in place and nerve damage that'll never heal! Who gives a fuck about them!" your skin feels red hot, your face twisted in rage. "I gave my life! My life to this! And then I'm tortured, I'm threatened, drugged and beaten by my own team, my f--my family for eight fucking years..."
You continue with a heavy chest. "And I'm supposed to invite them for dinner to talk and listen them bitch and moan about why they thought it was necessary to beat me to death for two weeks?! Fuck you!" you spat. "I don't owe them anything!"
"That's not what I was trying to say, Ms. (L/N). I apologize, I overstepped. Come sit down--"
"Of course you meant it," you interrupted, mock humor. "Don't be a pussy, own up to it. Revel in your truth. Be tter yet--" you snatch a journal from the cabinet. Tossing it his way. "Make a note of it."
Turning the knob, you leave the room with a slam of the metal door.
---
You were officially famous. On the base, you were now a legend.
A story that would be mentioned and told at lunch for months. Probably years.
First, you were a rat. Next, you were innocent. This was the most gossip any of those in service had ever seen in their years of service.
An interesting reminder to those in service that you weren't safe off duty either.
You learned a few days ago that there was an update put into the interrogational unit, something about how to properly go about dissecting evidence and being on the lookout for enemy spies in the militia.
You guessed you had been told about it in an effort to be appeased by the thought that the head of control paid attention to anything beyond their own noses for once. But, you had little to no faith in a system that's nearly killed you on and off the field by now, so it didn't matter.
You doubted the new rules would be followed though, there was a plethora of things they'd done to you in that cell that were both illegal and unsanctioned. Most of all, that were expected towards an enemy, a prisoner of war at best, and not a fellow marine.
You arrive at the housing quarters, swiping your key card, pulling the handle and entering the wing. Immediately, you're greeted by a dozen eyes, conversations stopping short and clothes ruffling to silence, suddenly whispers fill the space and eyes turn away.
"Oh, god, it's her..." says one man in the far corner.
"Shut the fuck up, man!" came a harsh whisper back.
"I didn't know it was that bad..."
All those eyes on you, makes you pause in your step, looking around at all of your fellow soldiers, the men and women you've served with for years. Many you recognized, ate with, fought beside that turned their backs to you now. Out of respect? Out of distaste, morale, nerves, pity, it all didn't matter. It all felt the same.
The wheels attached to your IV pole suddenly sounded much too loud on the polished flooring, as you walked down the hall as fast as you were able to.
Breathing out deeply, you get to an elevator, pushing on the button, once, twice, three times, just open goddamn it.
With a ding, the metal doors open, and suddenly you're aware that people could be in the elevator, they could be in this elevator, he could be in this elevator. Your eyes flicker down to the floor, your grip on the pole of your iv tightens, your shoulders stiffen, waiting for a blow that will never come.
You stand there as the doors open up, the small space empty, the metal walls reflect only her and a streak of lighting from the ceiling.
Looking up slowly, finally taking a breath, before sliding the iv up and onto the elevator, following it as you press your floor number along the way.
The ride up is fast, a little rumble as it stops, and then the doors open. Faster than you were prepared for.
Peeking out down the hallway, luckily no one to bump into, which you were thankful for. But, it didn't make this hall any less haunting. You'd been cornered in this same hall, you could recall being hauled out of the room after the solid handle of a knife hits your temple.
You don't go down fast enough, whipping around as you stumble to take the wrist of your attacker, mostly for balance, it's Price. In shock, you're unprepared as Johnny's arm encircle your neck, locking you into position as you both stumble backwards onto the floor. He blocks your airways, hushing you harshly as you struggle, feet kicking out and your vision blurring as your team surrounds you. Your family.
That was quite the headache to wakeup with afterwards.
You hadn't quite remembered until now. Being back served as a hell of a kickstart to your memory.
Just a few more reasons to get the fuck off of 141.
Getting off the elevators, the metal doors sliding closed behind you, you make your way down the hall. The polished flooring creates a subtle squeak through the wheels of your iv pole, your hand absently running over the fading stitches along your side.
Passing the shadows of your tortured memory, the doorway of the office was closed, locked.
You pass Kyle's room.
Johnny's.
Finally, you rush up to the next room on the left, grabbing the handle, before beginning to twist, but then you're yanking your hand back as if the metal had burned you. Your back ramming into the back wall, catching yourself, this wasn't your room.
It was Simon's.
You'd spent hours, days, in that room. More than your own.
Why wouldn't you? You were about to get married to the man. You had more in this room than you had in yours.
Sharp breaths leave you, shivering in your effort to keep yourself together, your head goes back into the wall, swallowing down the ache in your chest.
You wait, muscles tensed and your body pressing back into the wall, hoping it'd absorb you if that door opens. Listening for every sound, any pin drop, even an exhale from beyond that doorway. Luckily, Simon seemed to be out for the day.
Hurriedly, nearly running, you steady yourself against the wall as you rush down to the corner of the hallway, finally finding your room.
Turning the handle, it's not locked, it's broken. It opens with ease.
Entering the room slowly, pushing the doorway aside, the crackle of glass beneath your boots as you step forwards, clothes and picture frames laying scattered.
The mattress flipped and ripped open, springs and cotton cut from it. Your wall of metals and certificates, from acts of bravery and mementos of valor, discarded, later you'd find them in the trash, one with a bullet lodged into the gold.
Sniffling as you leaned down, picking a specific frame off the ground, the only one that hadn't been broken. Laying along the ruined rug, with no care for the glass digging through your jeans, you stare at the still shot of your family.
The only family you had outside of Task Force 141, your father and his sister, military brats themselves, until their retirement. Your mother had passed, or just up and left, days after your 5th birthday, you weren't completely sure, the story kept changing every year. But, these two were the only family you've ever known, ever had, until you joined the military, following in their footsteps.
They'd been so proud when you arrived back after your first assignment, in truth you were heavily traumatized, but seeing them, you just had to smile. Having a family that understood the harsh toll on the line of a trooper, now a lieutenant, it was always easier to bring your troubles to them. But, they were also military nuts so "suck it up" was also a quick go to answer from your aunt, while your father was the smoother talker.
They had met Simon, loved him, his rank, his love for you, his seriousness. They trusted him completely with your heart.
So, when he called them, after the evidence leaked...
They believed him.
"What're you talking about?" You took the handle of the chair in your grip, easing you down into it as your legs do weak at what you were hearing. "I didn't...I didn't do it, Dad."
"Do you know how humiliating and disappointing--how it felt to hear him say that to me, hm?" he says, static crackles on the reciever. "My daughter...my own flesh and blood...working with terrorists--"
"I'm not working with anyone! Are you-" you huff out a breath of disbelief. "Are you even listening to me? I've never betrayed the code. How can you think that way of me?"
For a moment, he's silent. "Alright, then," he began. "Than, what'd you do? huh?"
"What--what..."
"Oh, come on, (Y/n)!" your father yells. "What did you do?! What could they possibly have had on you that made you the most likely target? You had to have had done something, been somewhere, were with somebody you weren't supposed to be with! They didn't just get that information from anywhere."
"What the fuck--" Your expression twists with frustration and misery, running your hand through your hair, pulling at it. "I've sacrificed every part of myself for this job, for this team, what do I have to gain from throwing that all away? They send me everywhere, places you've never heard of, places you'll never hear about and people you'll never have to meet, because of me! Why would you just believe Simon? Why couldn't you just wait to talk to me?!"
Hearing your father scoff at your words was painful. "What reason do I have not to believe him? He knows you, maybe even better than any of us. Besides, he was going to be my son in law--"
"I'm your daughter! Fuck Simon, what about me? You'd believe him instead?"
He sighs. "Listen, you're upsetting Cass. We didn't expect your call. I gotta make this brief..."
"You're upset?" pulling at your hair, sucking in sharply. "I'm the one who's permanently fucking altered here. What do either of you have to be upset about?!"
"Watch your fucking mouth!" he seethes. The anger in his voice isn't new, but the way he spits it at you is. "You did this to yourself, I didn't. Maybe that's what your nightmares were about, am I right? Your guilt?"
Wiping the streaks of tears that had fallen down your face, lips quivering and chest aching with sobs you frustratedly shoved down. "Why don't you believe me?"
"I don't deserve the disgrace that will come with you as my kin, I've lived my part of this war. No daughter of mine should even be in this fucking position," your father spat, disgusted into the receiver. Suddenly, he was the cruel, bitter old man your mother had always known him to be, you wished she had stayed to at least remind you of that. Maybe it wouldn't have hurt as much. "You should be ashamed of yourself, but at least you got yourself out it. The least you could do for us."
"Well--what does that mean?" you spoke, quietly.
"Don't call again..."
"Dad, no--" you break this time, a sob escaping you.
"Me and your Aunt Cass..."
"Daddy please, don't do this--"
"..We've decided to cut ties. We're not taking any heat from this, you're on your own," he finishes, clearing his throat, waiting a moment, listening to the pleads and cries of his only daughter, his once pride. "You take care of yourself. Goodbye, kid."
"Why can't you just believe me? Why?!" you cried.
"Don't come to the house."
"No, no,--" the line goes dead. And staring down at your phone, his caller id going blank and the call disconnecting.
Your phone all of a sudden feels heavy, the device and your hand falling down to your thigh, before the phone slips out of your grip and onto the floor. You sit there silently, until your tears drop up and even after.
Staring at the photo now was haunting in its own way, it was just another painful reminder.
Using the bed frame to stand to your feet, your grip on the frame is painful as you squeeze it, the glass cracks audibly.
"Bonnie..."
Whipping around at the sound of John MacTavish's voice, you back up a few steps at the sight of him, your back hitting the edge of your desk.
He reaches out as you stumble, before his fingers curl back into his palm as you find your balance, his hands receding back to his sides. He doesn't enter the room, just lingering just beyond the doorway, his eyes flickering around the room, guiltily.
"I didn't know--we didn't know you were out," he speaks quietly, as opposed prideful personality that translated into his voice usually.
You say nothing.
In the dark, your eyes are wide and your shoulders are tensed up, he can see the glint of your leg braces, the iv pole at the side, the scar beneath your eye. You looked terrified to see him.
"We were coming back to clean up today, just got back from...from a mission..." he stutters on his words, shifting his feet.
"It's been a week."
His lips press together hearing your voice. "I know..." Johnny glances around at the room he'd let those officers destroy, it hadn't been them, but they might as well had done it. "I know...we just...didn't know it was so bad."
"Really?" your voice is mockingly sweet, drawing out the word. "You didn't know? Well look..." you hold up your family photo, the light in the hallway catching on the glass. "You missed one."
Your hand dropping, the heavy frame comes down just as fast, ramming into the ground, the glass practically exploding on impact.
Johnny flinches, the photo of your family...He looks back to you, surprised. "Bonnie..."
Snatching the next closest thing from your desk, a ceramic cup. "Oh, wow, can't believe you guys missed this one," you chuck it into the wall. It breaks on impact, the remains scatter along the flipped mattress and onto the floor. "That used to be my favorite mug by the way."
The Scotsman worriedly steps forwards, 'Lass, I'm sorry--"
"FUCK YOU!" you spat, coming into the light. You're sure you look deranged, and you didn't care. You could've wrapped your hands around his throat, killed him right on the floor and you wouldn't have blinked. "It doesn't mean anything! 'I'm sorry', 'I'm sorry', 'I'm sorry', over and over and over again! As if you shouldn't be! Your apologies mean fuck all."
"I know...I know," he breathes. "But, I've gotta say it anyway, bonnie. I should've believed you, there was no reason not to. I know that now. I just--"
"Believe me!" you cut him off with a yell. "Trust me! Fucking 'HELP ME'!" you screamed with the same fever as your days in the interrogation room, that terrible cell, the cold, the burn and pain. "I cried it all to you, to all of you, and nobody came. Nobody came for me," you breathe in sharply. "It doesn't matter what you should've done. You didn't do it!"
Johnny's eyes are red, he opens his mouth, closes it and then swallows down whatever chokes him up as he looks at you. "I should've came for you. I wish I did. I wanted to, Bonnie..." he steps forwards, and you recede back away from him, your eyes narrowed with violence. "I'll never forgive myself for not listening to you. For not coming to help you. For laying a hand on you. I'm so sorry, (Y/n). I'm sorry..."
I'll never forgive myself... "That makes two of us," you assured.
Johnny's eyes widen, before they close, his guilt ever consuming. He can't help but understand, to respect your decision, to know things can never be ok again. "(Y/n)...."
Grabbing hold of the nearest thing, a pencil cup, you hurl it at Johnny. He doesn't put his hands up, flinching as it hits him, the metal clinking against his kevlar, eyes closing then opening, he stands still. "I don't forgive. I don't accept your apology. I don't fucking care about it!" with each sentence you throw something else his way, a broken frame, the trash bin, a pillow, the CD player.
His hand has to come up for the knife you unsheathe, a memento from one of your missions, it's rusted, ancient probably. But, you hadn't given it up to a museum or to pawn, you had nearly died on this mission, saving Johnny ironically. You had to keep it.
Seeing the weapon, his defensive position is instinctive but his hands drop just as fast, he understands, you need this. You deserve this. "If you need to..." he speaks. Your eyes flicker up to him, away from the knife. "If you need to, I get it..."
And you need to. You really fucking do.
Your grip on the knife is dangerously hard, it hurts.
Looking at Johnny, he'd been your brother in more than a few ways on and off the field, he had been your comfort, your friend, your family. You had bled with him, held onto him as he carried you from the battlefield, joked, laughed, screamed and cried. You've loved him for years.
He'd had a rough few nights you could see that. He was quieter, reserved. Almost as terrified to see you, as you had been of him.
And you could kill him right now and never bat an eye.
And so, throwing that knife was so fucking easy.
Johnny's eyes close as you do just that, fists clenching and teeth biting down on his tongue to prepare for the pain.
The ancient weapon whiz's through the air, the sound is sharp and he knows it will cut through him like butter.
The thud rings in the room, and Johnny's eyes blow open wide, holding his breath as he collapses to his knees, before turning to you.
You dig into the pile of clothes that had been cast aside, a pair of sneakers and a new shirt. You don't look at him a single time as you take it all, stuffing them in a bag, and leaving the room, passing him completely, a limp in your step.
Johnny releases a pained breath, tears finally leaving him as he looks up, the knife lodged into the frame of the doorway, just barely missing him. The sleeve of his uniform ripped open.
He sits there in the quiet, destroyed room. A testimony to the relationship he's destroyed between you.
Part 4!! OUT NOW
#simon riley angst x reader#cod angst#tw torture#tw angst#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley#ghost angst#ghost x reader#call of duty x reader#call of duty
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simon doesn't pursue people, he operates more like a one-man strike team. his approach to human connection is transactional, pragmatic, a matter of logistics.
on the rare occasion he's looking for company, he wants someone easy, who won't fuss when he introduces them to a thin motel mattress. won't ask what he does for work or try to make plans for the morning. won't bother him about 'next time'. nothing long-term. no strings.
he doesn't have a 'type' so much as a protocol: pick someone malleable, pliant, and preferably on the pill.
then you start working at his local.
the first time he sees you, he doesn't notice much beyond the basics: efficiency, attentiveness, pouring pints and bantering with the regulars with aplomb. by the second or third time, he's paying closer attention. you're not just good at your jobâyou're quick, always three steps ahead of the chaos. you give out smiles left and right, but it's more muscle memory than genuine warmth. and you're clever, too. funny, even, when someone manages to earn your attention for longer than a transaction.
you could probably keep up with his humor. go toe-to-toe.
you're off-limits, though. that's the rule. bartenders are switzerlandâneutral territory. don't shit where you eat. it's a system that works, so long as he doesn't let himself think too much about the view when you lean over the counter or the lilt of your voice when you ask what he's having tonight.
then one evening, you take another man's number. some leering idiot, too comfortable with inserting himself into your space, grinning like he's cracked your code because you haven't humbled him. simon doesn't react, not outwardly. he nurses his drink and watches as you smile, slip the napkin into your pocket, and turn back to the bar.
but that's when you become a problem.
he tells himself it doesn't matter, that it's nothing. he doesn't want a number or a date. but the thought of someone else having youâsomeone who doesn't know what to do with a woman like youâit's a splinter buried just deep enough to keep him thinking about it. irritating, prone to fester.
how to approach you, though? he can't be as direct as he'd like, can't pin you down with a look or crass words. no way to corner you when you're safe behind the counter, or disappearing through a staff door. hanging around until you're off would be pathetic. dog behavior, he thinks, with a twinge of contempt for the mental image. he's got too much self-respect for that, at least.
no, he's got to actually make an effort. use his words.
the next time he comes in, he waits. no more corner tables or watching from afar. he sits close, pretends not to notice how your hands look slicing a lime. he orders his usual and tries not to overthink your tone when you set it down in front of him.
"you alright?"
you reach for his card, fingers pinching the plastic, but he holds on, smirking when you tug and then huff.
this is the moment. his moment. the one he's been building toward in his head for days. but there's a hitch, a blip in his usual confidence, and he fumbles. he blames your perfume.
"soâŚyou come here often?"
not what he meant to say, but not the worst.
the shockwave of his nuclear-level failure doesn't register until your lips twitch, and it finally sinks in. his eyes widen a fraction as the realization lands. oh, he's fucked it. all his rehearsing, for nothing.
"âŚyeah," you say, voice flat, a single brow raised as you gesture vaguely toward the bar around you. "i work here?"
his mouth dries, but his face doesn't change. he doesn't fight it when you pull the card out of his grasp. there's the barest glint of something in your eyesâamusement, maybe, or pity. he's not sure which is worse.
you turn away to ring him up, but when you glance back, he's gone.
next
#ghost x reader#do you think he goes back for his card?#confident ghost who loses all cool when presented with a hottie. i can relate.#i need him to be the butt of a joke for once.#sy writes
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ANIMALS ft. Natty
natty x male reader smut
10k words

âAll Iâm saying is,â Natty starts, like she always does, with more unsolicited advice than you can handle at 2 AM, "for someone that complains so much about not having a sex life, you really donât do much to fix it."
âAnd what, oh wise friend of mine, is your recommendation.â
âI donât know. Get a haircut. Dress better. Try not being a massive pussy?â Natty shrugs. Or at least you think she does. Only so much you can tell over the phone.
You sigh. Bite back the urge to tell her to fuck off. But then, who else would talk you to sleep at this ungodly hour? So instead, you concede the point. âNoted.â
âOr, you know, if itâll stop you from being such a little bitch,â and now sheâs laughing, cackling really, and not once has that ever, ever meant anything good. "You could always just fuck me."
â
Two weeks and twelve hours post-Nattyâs incredibly unhelpful suggestion that did absolutely nothing to alleviate you of your insomnia, and youâre back on the phone with her.
Only this time, there's video.
So, yay.
"Help me, please."
Itâs a Friday and Natty's begging, again.
Because she knows she can count on you, knows that youâve long since resigned yourself to your fate as Nattyâs on-call âfixerâ. There for everything from life-changing career decisions to helping her figure out what show to stream next.
And now, apparently, choosing her outfit for tonight.
âHelp me, help me, help me, help me.â
God, this woman and her begging. Knowing full well that itâs your kryptonite.
"Okay, okay, okay," you're relenting, much earlier than usual. Mostly because as far as Nattyâs petulant requests usually go this oneâs a walk in the park. âBut donât you have people for this sort of thing? People who donât, and I quote, âhave a dogshit taste in style?ââ
âIt is dogshit!â Natty calls out, already turned around and leaving you (her phone) on the vanity, facing out to her bedroom and all its hideous pinkness. She disappears from the screen, diving deep into her closet for yet another pair of shorts that will most certainly hug way too close, or a top that dips way too low, or a pair of heels that screamâ'hey, I have legs, would you like to spread them?' "But!"
Natty returns to the camera with a leather beltâoh no, that's a leather skirtâin hand; clad in nothing but a casual cotton bra/underwear combination that sheâs filling out far too well for your sleep-deprived brain to handle.
She holds up the skirt against her waist for your consideration. Poses. It wouldn't cover a thing. Or maybe that's the pointâagain, you don't have any fashion sense, whatsoever.
âYouâre a man, and I need a manâs opinion because Iâm hoping to take one home tonight to fuck my brains out until I forget about this shit-storm of a week. So, you knowâhelp a girl out?â
âAs always, you have quite a way with words.â
Natty leans towards the camera, bending down to stare right at you. It makes entirely too much sense that sheâs built an entire career around doing just this.
âItâs my third language, asshole.â
The insult lands softer than she likely intended, considering well, youâre a little too distracted to take it. Itâs entirely her fault. The angle makes her tits look far too immaculate to pay any attention to her mouth.
Maybe she should consider going out just like this?
Yeah, thatâd definitely get her fucked.
But, she frowns before you can make the suggestion, turning on her heels and sashaying back to her closet, leaving you to choke on air at the sight of her ass stretching out her favourite pair of panties. (The white pair with the pretty-pink bows. The one that rides up her ass when she stretches, bends, sneezesâbasically any time sheâs not standing perfectly still. And even then.)
Anyone else and this whole thing would be weird. Well, weirder than it already is.
See, you and Natty have this thing; this odd, cat and dog relationship thatâs been going on since what feels like the dawn of time:
Youâve watched her shamelessly cycle through men faster than a teenager through a box of tissues, leaving a trail of broken hearts and broken cocks in her wake.
While sheâs been forced to witness every time youâve met âthe oneâ, only to be there months later to help pick up the pieces when youâre burying your feelings in video games and alcohol and porn, wondering how it all went so wrong.
All this to say that seeing Natty bouncing around in her underwear with that laser-beam of a smile of hers; with all of her soft curves, thick thighs, her ridiculous ass and again, those immaculate fucking tits isn't that unusual.
In fact, it doesn't really do anything for you at all.
(Fucking liar.)
âHere, how about this.â Natty appears from the corner of the screen, having found a top thatâs somehow made of even less material than the bra sheâs already got on. The gall of her to ask, "Too much or not enough?"
You deadpan. âDoes it come in adult sizes too?â
Natty grins, because she can read it right on your stupid face. She looks so, unbearably hot. Without even trying that hard. This bitch. âSo just right, then.â
And then she twirls, leaving you to face her back, and before you even have time to blink, Nattyâs bra has fallen down her shoulders; and youâre hating how you lean in to look because this damn app has no zoom feature to save your sorry eyesight.
Her fucking tits. Perfect, bouncy. Even through the pixels, even from behind, you can still see the way they spill.
She slips on her chosen top for the eveningâa tiny, strappy numberâand spins back around to face you in all her Natty glory. By the skin of your teeth, youâre looking away and leaning back, feigning nonchalance and leaving her none the wiser.
You think.
âYou know,â Natty says, tilting to one side, hand on hip. Fuck, even that slightest movement makes them bounce. Utterly, utterly obscene. âYou should just come tonight.â
Youâre saying, âFuck no,â before sheâs even finished her sentence. âComing tonightâ means âclubbingâ, and âclubbingâ means being stuck listening to the shittiest music, surrounded by the worst people in all of Korea, drinking overpriced slop and watching Natty turn down a revolving door of douchebags on the dancefloor.
So, yeah.
If âfuck noâsâ were bricks, youâd be building the Great Wall of âFuck Noâ, big enough for aliens on the other side of the galaxy to see with a fucking telescope and have their first contact with the human race be a giant âFuck Noâ.
And thatâs your polite way of turning her down.
Yet somehow, Nattyâs hardly deterred.
âCome on, itâll be fun,â Natty sing-songs, shuffling on her tiptoes, shifting her weight from foot to foot, making her entire body jiggle. Itâs like sheâs intentionally trying to sell you on the idea with every little movement. Make you believe that if you came with her, youâd be able to find someone who comes close to looking half as good as she does in that⌠whatever-the-fuck that is. Bralette? Crop top? Whatever. Fat chance. "Come on, come, come, come. Be my wingman please!"
You already have your second âfuck noâ queued up, but Natty just wonât stop fucking talking.
âDonât you want to get laid? Donât you think you need to have fun after whatâs-her-name?â Natty continues, pouting at you through the screen.
And there it is, a study in how Natty usually gets her wayâjutting out her bottom lip, digging her thumb into the waistband of her panties to expose just a smidge more skin, leaning just right to make her tits look like theyâre about to pop out. Itâs like sheâs got a fucking manual. Â
âDonât tell me youâd rather stay at home with Handalf the Grey than come out with me and all my hot friends?â
âYou mean having to clean up after all your âhot friendsâ and their bullshit while you run off to score free drinks?â You retort, recalling all the other times when she managed to entice you out of your self-imposed isolation and into the deafening, sweaty hellhole known as a nightclub.
âSaid hot friends that youâre too much of a pussy to hit on, mind you,â Natty chides, and then oh-so-casually decides to drop this nugget: "They all like you, you know, they'd be more than happy to break this dry spell of yours if you just asked. Donât act like I havenât seen the way you look at Julie."
You can feel your cheeks reddening. Youâre not a teenager. You shouldnât blush at this shit. But here you are, falling for Nattyâs words and their magical abilities to needle at your insecurities and fill your head with thoughts of her friends and all their... well, incredibly positive attributes.
Natty pounces on your lapse in composure and gets closer to the camera, crouches. Drops down so sheâs on her heels and all you can see in that tiny window of your phone is the red of her plush, plump lips.
âCome, you pussyââ
âNattyââ
âDo it pussyââ
âNatty, if you think thatâs going to workââ
âPussy, pussy, pussyââ
Youâre yelling down the phone: âFuck, fine!â
Nattyâs victory dance is already in full swing before the words have even left your mouth. Bouncing around her room in pure joy at once again having ruined your evening. Dancing in that barely-there outfit, treating you to entirely sinful ripples across her curves and dips, pure sex on a pair of toned legs. Really makes you wonder how the fuck is she not illegal in at least fifty different countries. Â
You hide your face in your hands, because there it is, the reason youâve never really been able to deny her:
Her laughter, her energy, her fucking shameless glee whenever she manages to get her way (which, if youâre keeping count, is every single time).
Sheâs just so frustratingly adorable.
Somewhere in her celebrations, Natty finds exactly what she was looking for. Reaches down to the floor, picking up a beltâno, thatâs another skirtâthis one even tinier than the first.
âOh, this is perfect,â she preens, holding it out to the camera (to you), before stepping right into it. She spins around, making it dance around her hips. It does wonders for her thighs. "How do I look?â
You swallow. âLike youâre going to get fucked tonight.â
The glint in Nattyâs eyes. Like youâve just served up the finest compliment on a silver platter. You feel sorry for whatever poor soul crosses her path tonight.
Natty winks. âHereâs to hoping.â
â
Guess what?
Turns out you were right: this is the worst place in the world.
Only, youâre the sole person here that seems to think that.
Hours have passed since you helped Natty look perfectly fuckable and youâre at the bar, trying and failing to get the attention of the bartender. Unfortunately, he, like every other male with a beating heart and a boner seems far more interested in Nattyâs little dance routine than his thirsty clientele.
You canât blame him, really. Itâs built in how she moves.
Strobe lights cutting through the air like knives, slicing her into this series of absolutely pornographic snapshots as she dances. And sheâs not alone, she has friendsâbeautiful, all of them, in their own ways. They spin and twirl around her; but Nattyâs the sun here, the star that everything orbits.
(You included).
You see it play outâthe Natty effect. Men, even women alike gravitate to her, drawn by that magnetic force that is Natty at her very best. Trying to get a dance, maybe whisper a line they stole from some movie in her ear, even dare to reach out to touch or press themselves up against her.
But sheâs a black hole, a dark star. Canât get too close.
One by one, theyâre swallowed up by the void of Nattyâs disinterest. The shoulders slump, the smiles falter, and the hope in their eyes dies as Natty, with a simple flick of her wrist sends them stumbling back into the crowd, forgotten almost immediately.
And the whole time sheâs doing this, sheâs got you in her line of sight. A wink here, a smile there, a dance on its own; and all you can do is nod and pretend like youâre okay with all this.
You inhale. Deeply.
Her outfit looks even tinier in person.
You turn away for just a moment, shaking off thoughts of Natty, of her hips and their sway and her winks and her smile; attempting (and failing) to flag down the bartender once more.
This fucking night.
But, when you look back, Nattyâs no longer on the dancefloor.
Sheâs standing next to you. Arms looping around your neck.
âNattyââ
But sheâs not listening. Her eyes are darting around the room, searching for somethingâor someoneâthat you canât see. Your stomach clenches, because that look on Nattyâs face? Thatâs not her usual Iâm-about-to-make-some-poor-soul-my-bitch look. Thatâs something else entirely. Thatâs fear.
âShut up, I need a favour,â sheâs in your ear, yelling over the thrum of the bass thatâs rattling your ribcage.
You lean in, bend down to meet her, because, frankly, youâre worried. Youâve never seen Natty like this, wide eyed and shaky. Never seen her be anything but comfortable.
Youâve also never been this close to her. Felt her breath hot against your neck, felt her body press up against you, felt her softness, felt herâ
Fuck, you should be asking her whatâs wrong, but before you can even do that, the bartender's filling two shot glasses and sliding them over to Natty.
She takes one. You take the other. It tastes lethal.
Nattyâs nails dig into the back of your neck, and she looks at you, intense. Words fast and frantic. âJust pretend weâre together, okay? For a bit. Until I can figure this out. Justâjust keep playing along, yeah?â
You blink. The room blurs around you. You think you mightâve misheard. âWhat?â
âBe my boyfriend,â she says, taking a second shot before you can even digest the first. âI need you. Thereâs some creep and I need you. Now, please?â
You turn immediately, scanning the floor, but the lights and shadows make it near impossible to make out anything other than vague shapes and strobes of colour, let alone pinpoint a face. "Natty, where is he, I canâ"
"No, no, no," she cuts you off with a shake of her head. âFocus on me.â
âWait, why do I have toââ
âOh, shit there he isââ
And then sheâs kissing you.
Ending whatever argument you may have had, because sheâs grabbing, pulling you in, and her lips are on yours and oh fuck, sheâs really, really kissing you.
Itâs a slap to the face, and you need to reel in from the sting. Because youâre already forgetting what youâre doing, forgetting how your limbs work, because Nattyâs putting on the performance of a lifetime and youâre having trouble keeping up.
Her hands are in your hair, yours at the small of her back, and sheâs pulling you close, squishing against you and the taste of herâsweet like candy and sharp like vodkaâfilling you all the way up.
Your tongue catches up, flicking against hers, licking inside of her mouth and sheâs even convincing youâas if sheâs the one thatâs always been into the love at first sight bullshit and youâre the non-believer.
And itâs a problem, how right this feels. Because this isnât what friends doâdefinitely not Natty and you. But still, you can feel her tension, her need for this to be believable; and you donât dare to fuck it all up.
So you kiss her back, because thatâs what you do for Natty.
You always do what she needs.
Youâre about to pull away; this should be enough to have every single person here convinced that youâre hers and sheâs yours. But Nattyâs already sliding her tongue back in your mouth, pleading, âKeep going,â the moment a gap opens between your lips; and youâre diving back into the kiss without a second thought.
And then you hear it.
A flash of a camera.
A cheer.
A whistle.
Julie, Haneul, BelleâNattyâs friends, staring at you like proud fairy godmothers witnessing their own magic at work.
You break the kiss. You look down at Natty.
She giggles.
You feel like a fucking idiot.
"There is no creep, is there?"
Natty shrugs, looks up at you, and she actually looksâwhat is this? Shy? Embarrassed?
"There couldâve been," she says, her eyes wide and innocent, a mask. You see through her like you should have when she first wrapped her arms around your neck. Â Oh sure, like sheâs ever been innocent for a second in her entire life.
Sheâs far too smug for that.
You roll your eyes. You feel like every other idiot thatâs ever fallen for a bat of her lashes and a peek at her tits. Hope is a hell of a drug, especially when Nattyâs the dealer. And yet, despite yourself, the corner of your mouth quirks up. "You're fucking insane."
âMaybe.â Thereâs a long pause. Sheâs staring at your mouth. She presses a finger to your sternum. âBut I had to do something.â
It takes a second. What?
What does that mean?
You stare at Natty, lick your lips. Her taste still lingers.
âAsk yourself the same question Iâve been asking myself for months now,â she says, louder this time, her voice cutting through the noise of the club and hitting your ears with a sobering clarity.
You know what sheâs going to sayâwhat sheâs going to ask before sheâs even opened her mouth. Youâve been asking yourself the same thing too.
So, swallow hard, try to ignore the way Nattyâs friends have gone quiet. Try to ignore Nattyâs hand still resting against your chest, her eyes burning a hole right through you.
âWhy havenât we had sex yet?â
The bloodâs rushing to your cheeks; the music's too loud, the lights too bright, and the room's suddenly spinning around you like a carousel.
Fucking embarrassing.
But Natty doesnât crack a smile. She just looks up at you. Hopeful. Searching you, searching your eyes for an actual answer; and you already know what it is.
âBecause, Natty, weâre friends.â You offer up a weak smile, hoping against hope that sheâll buy it.
But she shakes her head. âOh, please. Like thatâs ever stopped anyone before. Besides, if you want to put a label on it, call it whatever the fuck you want. I just know what I need. Do you?â
You sigh. She gets closer. And closer.
Until your nose is brushing hers. Until her breath is hot on your face, until your heart is racing so fast you can feel it in your ears. Until her hand is sliding down, down, down, until itâs resting over your pants and oh, oh no, youâre straining.
You gasp. She smirks.
âSee? You want it too. And I know you do, because, sweetie, your cockâs practically begging me to pull it out and shove it between my tits right here in front of everyone.â
She just throws it out there, so casually, so bluntly, she might as well be talking about the weather. And maybe, maybe itâs the alcohol, or maybe itâs just Natty being Natty, but fuck you canât do anything but stay frozen still.
Youâre letting her hand linger. Youâre letting her touch you like sheâs got every right in the world. Youâre letting her because thereâs a part of youâthe part thatâs growing by the secondâthat wants to see just how far sheâll take this.
âSo, what is the real reason, ba-by?â
Because youâre in love with her. Youâre in love with her, and you canât just have casual sex with someone youâre in love with because it will ruin you.
But you donât say that. Instead, you just tell her: âTiming.â
That makes her laugh. Has her closing what little gap remained between your bodies, until her tits are flush against your chest, and youâre coming to the conclusion that, yes, you did help her pick out the perfect outfit for tonight.
Perfectly, hopelessly, fuckable.
âWell,â she says, and sheâs pulling you back down again and shutting you up with yet another kiss. âWeâve got all the time in the world now, donât we?â
â
Youâve been here before.
Many, many times before.
You installed the showerhead and fixed all the cabinets yourself. Even secured the lock that youâre now unlocking with the digits that you coded.
But somehow, it feels like a first.
First time youâve kissed her in the back of a car, pushed your hand up her skirt, felt the heat of her against your fingertips. First time youâve pinned her against the wall of an elevator, made her feel just how desperate you were for her against her thigh, made her promise to be so good for you when you got to her door.
First time being pulled through the threshold, hands at your chest, tearing your shirt off you before youâve even stepped foot in her apartment. Had her smiling against your mouth, because sheâs won, again, and you canât even bother to argue because youâve lost to her so many times now that this shouldnât be so surprising.
What is surprising though is how youâre naked first.
"Terrible, terrible taste." Natty's clicking her tongue as your shoes, your shirt, your pants are scattered along the floor behind you. âWeâll have to fix that.â
And then sheâs moving on, hands clawing down your stomach to land at the waistband of your underwear, hooking her thumbs in and yanking down. Youâre so obviously hardâyouâve barely made any effort to hide it from herâfuck, you pretty much flagged down the taxi with it.
"Holy fuck," is the first thing out of Natty's mouth when she takes a hold of you, feeling the naked weight of you in her palm. "Youâre really not messing around, are you? I was expectingâ"
"A sad, lonely little thing," you finish for her, because you've heard it before. "Yeah, you like to mention it a lot."
But Nattyâs not laughing now.
Sheâs just staring. Almost reverently. She decides, her voice a little raspy, tinted with an apprehension that you never knew she was capable of mustering, "I like it. It's... massive."
You lean in, pressing your mouth against hers because if sheâs going to say that, youâre going to kiss her, again and again, and thereâs a strong possibility you're never going to stop.
She whimpers, gasps into your mouth, says your name for the first timeânot some nickname, not a jab or an insult. Just your name, in your ears, like itâs something sacred.
Youâre not a saint. You canât ignore that.
Your cock jumps in her hand, and as if on instinct, she strokes you.
It's slow, purposeful. She's too good at this. Knows the right pressure, where to twist and wind her wrist. How to sweep her thumb over the tip, smear pre-cum over your skin, and this entire time she's staring down at your cock like she's discovered something new.
âThis is going to ruin me, isn't it?â she whispers, and you nod, because your voice is lodged in your throat and sheâs stealing the air from your lungs. âGoing to fit so fucking nicely inside me. Fuck itâs going to stretch me.â
You groan, collapse your weight into Natty, press your lips against the column of her throat.
Both hands now, one underneath, toying with your balls, balancing them in her fingers, and the other doing its best to squeeze, to pump, to make you fall for her with every stroke.
âI canât wait to ride this,â Natty kisses these words into your cheek, your jaw, leaves these marks all over your collarbone. âI wonder if I can fit it down my throat. God, can you imagine what itâll look like between my tits?â
And that makes your cock throb.
Because face it, Natty has always had a way of getting into your head; is far too dangerous with her words, and sheâs all too willing to abuse this power she has over you to get you do what she wants, which is now, apparently, fucking her senseless.
You let her, let her build and build this pressure, let it coil inside you, tighter and tighter. Until the need to feel her, all of her, is too much to handle.
Until you grab her, take her by the shoulders, push herânot hard, but firmlyâagainst the nearest wall.
Youâre not gentle about it, because Natty doesnât want gentle. She wants rough, she wants passionate, she wants to be fucked and have her cunt worshipped by way of complete ruin.
Sheâs told you as much.
"That's more like it," Natty bites into your ear, grips your shoulders. She follows your eyes. "Let me guess, my tits?"
So, maybe she has caught you looking once or twice. Either way, you donât care much for her top anymore, itâs served its purpose. You take a fistful of it and pull, ripping it right off her and tossing it to the floor with everything else thatâs kept the two of you from tearing each other apart.
âBetter?â Natty poses for you, puts her tits on displayâand yeah, you were right all along. Fucking immaculate.
You take a hold of one, palm it; fill your hand with flesh, twinge those dark, plump nipples, because of course youâre going to. Youâre going to pinch and squeeze and suck on them. Youâre going to mark her like sheâs already done to you. Mark them, with your teeth, with your tongue. Fuck, youâre going to make them yours.
But for now, you're just going to slap them, because you want to watch them jiggle up close.
You laugh. Natty does too.
"Much better."
And with that, youâre back on her. Kisses that are sloppy, wet, and filled with all the pent-up want that's been simmering for months. You donât even know where to begin with Natty, but you start with her mouth. Itâs a good place. Itâs always a good place with Natty.
Her hand doesnât stop moving, canât, wonât. The friction is heaven; you just let her touch you, fuck her hand while you indulge in her tits. Get to know the weight of them, the balance, the softness.
A sigh into your ear as your tongue finally finds her breasts, deep and messy, sliding over her nippleâsheâs already so sensitive, just a flick and sheâs gasping. Youâre not even trying to be precise anymore, not that Natty needs it, not that she needs anything but for you to enjoy yourself against her.
It all makes the room seem smaller, the walls close, surrounding you with the scentâcinnamon and sweat and something else thatâs just her.
âSee this is why fucking me is such a great idea,â she slurs against your shoulder, hand tightening, stroking you harder, faster.
You mumble an affirmative into her breast. Itâs a miracle you can still stand upright.
âIsnât this so much better than like everything else? Anyone else?â She sighs, breathy, sweet sounds, as she takes you by the wrist, guides your hand southwards.
Fingertips graze her stomach, trace around her belly button and lower; until youâre digging into her skirt and feeling the heat rise off her skin. Sheâs soaked right through her panties, dripping with it. Another place for your tongue to land.
âWe can just be fucking honest with each other,â Nattyâs explaining, eyes tearing when your finger pads her clit, pressing down just right. âYou already told me all the things you hate. All the things your bitch exes never let you do.â And she smiles, wicked. âNever had the tits to give you.â
Christ.
âAnd I can get you to fuck me exactly how I want with this big, fucking cock,â Natty finishes. "Weâre a perfect fucking match."
Itâs at that moment you find the zipper of her skirt, tugging it down, watching it fall to the feet. Leaving Natty to step out of the tiny scrap of fabric she calls her panties; abandoning the sticky mess of cotton.
You take a step back, unlatch your lips from her tits, because you need to see it. Need to finally see her, see your Natty, see the Natty you've never allowed yourself to look at.
So, take your time, drink her inâbecause the way sheâs standing there, the way sheâs touching herself now; biting her lip, sighing your name. All but saying, âLook all you want, but donât you dare look awayâ.
Look at the arch of her neck, the red youâve left there, that trail youâve burned down to her tits. Bruised and swollen from your tongue, your kisses, and yet still not marked enough. Follow the curve of her hips; how they flare out from her waist, the plush squish of her ass cheeks against the wall behind her.
You want to kiss her, from the tips of her toes to the top of head; all of her, every part of her, because now sheâs going to finally let you.
Because now you're going to fuck her until all she knows is you, going to make her scream your name, going to make her beg for you to fill her with your cock and cum and never ever leave her cunt empty again.
Thatâs the plan, anyway.
But Nattyâs got plans of her own.
âDidnât you say,â Natty begins, sighing, circling her cunt in a rhythm that youâre dying to recreate. She licks her lips. âThat your last ex refused to suck that lovely, magnificent cock of yours?
"Yeah," you stammer, at a loss for breath at just the sight of it all. âAnd werenât you trying to find someone to fuck your brains out?â
Nattyâs eyes light up; and there's that easy, charming grin that knocks you right off your feet. "Youâve always been such a good listener."
â
Natty's plotting to ruin you.
It's the only possible explanation for the way she's looking at you right nowâon her knees, at the foot of her bed, flanked by walls painted an ugly shade of pastel pink and Natty's tits, sandwiching your cock.
Youâd imagined it, thought about it when you shouldnât have been thinking about it. Whenever she brought you to watch her perform, whenever she sent you pictures of her outfit of the day. But your eyes always went there. Straight to Nattyâs tits, every time.
You knew they were big.
Youâve felt them, on accident (though they donât seem like accidents anymore).
But now, to have them enveloping your cock, drowning your shaft in their softness, and to have her, staring at your face with so much fucking excitement as she gives you everything youâve ever wantedâitâs surreal.
Youâre dying to paint them white.
âLooks like youâre already about to fall apart, baby,â she teases, and itâs even worse now that sheâs calling you these sweet names, saying them like sheâs always wanted to, like sheâs finally letting herself. âCouldnât wait, could you?â
âFuck, Nattyââ you breathe out, your hands finding her hair, tightening, because thatâs all you can manage to do when Nattyâs in control. Like sheâs always been.
âMmhmm,â she hums, keeping her eyes on you, making sure youâre watching, making sure you see the exact moment her tongue flicks out to taste you. A slow, taunting lick to make you buck your hips, desperate to feel the suction of her lips. âYou must have been dreaming about this, huh?â
You donât bother lying. She already knows the answer. âEvery. Fucking. Night.â
Nattyâs smile spreads across her face, and she rewards you with a kiss, pressing her lips down onto the head of your cock; before sliding them lower, eyes fluttering shut with the first taste of you. âWell, what took you so long? All you needed to do was show me your cock and Iâd have been happy to do it whenever you want me to. Happy for you to use my tits as your cum rag. You know that, right?â
She moves; and the sight of it aloneâNattyâs tits wrapped around your cock, bobbing up and down, hypnotising you with the flicker of her nipplesâup and down, up and down. Itâs merciless, unrelenting, and she keeps talking, keeps kissing these sweet little words into your cock that makes your hips jerk, trying to fuck her tits faster, harder.
"Look at how perfect you look," Natty keeps going, "how your cock fits so snug."
The sounds sheâs tearing from your throat as her tits take you, and sheâs barely even started.
âBut we can do better, canât we?â
Her pace picks up, and with it, the tightness of your grip on her hair. Sheâs pushing the ample mounds together, squeezing, putting her whole body into it, into this new art sheâs pioneering. Driving you insane with just her breasts, making you swell between them, throbbing as she works you over.
âSo big," sheâs panting from just the effort, the bounce, bounce, bounce of it all, "I can feel you getting so much bigger."
Everythingâs going too fast, her tits are too soft, her lips on you too hot, and sheâs drooling, her spit dripping down onto your cock. You want to tell her to stop, that you canât take it, but Natty just keeps going.
"Fuck,â Natty mewls, pinching her own nipples, for you, for her. Pinching and rolling them, making them nice and stiff and swollen. âLet me just try andââ
She cranes her head, bends; takes your cock deeper into the warm, wet heat of her mouth. Her tongue darts out licks your cock, gets that sweet spot on the underside, makes you shake underneath her.
Natty holds you there, even as you groan, even as your hips rise; just licks, spits, sucks. Her mouth moving up and down on you, making a mess down your shaft, down her tits. Taking you deeper, deeper, until youâre fucking her face.
She moans around you as your hips buck and you push deep, desperate for it. Her eyes water, her cheeks hollow, and sheâs got you. Youâre in her mouth and sheâs loving it. Loving the power she has over you, loving giving you what she wants, loving how youâre pulling her by the hair, desperate to feed her more of your cock into her throat.
Like your entire relationship has been building up to this momentâto Nattyâs tits wrapped around you, her mouth all over you, her eyes on yours, watching as you fuck her face.
"Fuck, Natty," you grunt, your voice barely recognisable. "What the fuckâ"
But Natty's just smiling, youâre fucking that smug little smile on her lips, and sheâs taunting you. "Come on baby, keep going, keep going."
Itâs utterly obsceneâthe smack of her lips around your cock, her slobbering all over you, her gagging, her moaning around you, looking up at you and asking, âIs that all youâve got?â
You're so close, so fucking close, and she knows it. Moving her tits faster, faster, and you're about to blow your load all over Natty's pretty face, her chest.
But she keeps talking.
Even as you stuff her cheeks, even as you muffle her, âNone of those other skinny bitches could do this, could they, could handle this big, fat cock?â
Even as you force her down, pull her by the hair, âYouâve been so obsessed with my body, so obsessed with my tits, havenât you?â
Even as her tits slide off you and your cock smacks her across her cheek, âI always saw the way you looked at them, fuck I was showing them off for you, you just took too fucking long to notice.â
She won't stop fucking talking.
You finally snap. "God, are you ever going to stop?"
But Natty just laughs, bats her lashes. Slides her tongue from your base to your tip. "Maybe you should find something to gag me with."
Your hand wraps around her throat, squeezing just enough to make her eyes go wide, to make her mouth pop open. She rolls out her tongue for you, and you know what she expects you to do, what she expects you to fill her mouth with.
But you donâtâinstead, you fill it with your kiss.
It's deep, itâs bruising, itâs saying âfuck youâ in the sweetest way possible, without uttering a single syllable. Natty laughs against your mouth, a âfuck youâ right back with her teeth, biting down on your lower lip. Not breaking skinânot yetâbut the promise is there.
Her hand leaves your cock to wrap around your neck, pulling you closer to her, her mouth eager for yours, and you donât even think twice before you hoist her up, her legs wrapping around your waist. Giggling againâanother sound thatâs going to be your undoingâbefore youâre both stumbling back onto her bed.
The mattress dips under the weight of your bodies falling back into it. Natty straddles you, presses her cunt down onto your thighs. So wet you can feel it on your thigh, leaving your skin sticky and stained with her. Your hands move to her hips, dragging her closer, so you can feel the friction grinding against your cock, making you ache.
She breaks your kiss, gasping for air. Her eyes are dark, pupils blown wideâseeing her pant like this, itâs not even fair. Sheâs just so fucking beautiful, like a painting youâre afraid to touch because you might smudge it.
You tell her as much.
She blinks. Blushes.
Grins.
âYou,â Natty breathes, her hand trailing down your chest, finding your heartbeat, resting there for a beat, two, âare so fucking in love with me.â
You donât argue because sheâs right.
Her hand slides up your arms, nails dig in and sheâs got your wrists, pinning them over your head. You let her. Let her grind herself against your cock, feel the warm, wet heat of her cunt against the tip.
Taking her sweet time, melting herself into you. Pressing her tits into your chest, making you feel her heart race against yours.
She whispers. Low, reverent. âGod, Iâve waited so fucking long for this.â
You canât even form a coherent thought, so you just grunt.
âIâve dreamt about this so much,â she continues, breathless words sending shivers down your spine. âYour cock, fuck, itâs just as perfect as I imagined. And now, itâs all mine.â
And then she does itâshe sinks down onto you, slow and sweet, her pussy taking you in inch by glorious inch. You groan into her shoulder, your eyes shut as Nattyâs tight heat surrounds you. Like nothing youâve ever felt before. Sure thereâs been others but something about Nattyâs cunt is so intense itâs almost painful.
âSo tight,â you grit out, the words torn from your chest like theyâre made of glass. She just laughs, low, sultry, and starts to move.
Itâs a dance, a rhythm thatâs been building between the two of you for what feels like an eternity. Sheâs rocking her hips back and forth in this torturous grind. Fucking you like itâs the last thing sheâll ever do, like she needs to make the most of it. Like youâre going to vanish into thin air the second she lets you go.
âI knew youâd feel this good,â Natty sighs into your neck, already surrendering to your cock. âFuck, I knew itâwhy did you keep this from me?â
You canât answer, not really.
Youâre too lost in the feel of her, too consumed by the way sheâs moving on top of you. Every inch of her body is pressed against yours, and sheâs so warm, so alive, that you canât think of anything but how Nattyâs finally letting you in. How sheâs letting you make her whole.
But itâs too much. Nattyâs cunt, tight and wet, fucking you so slow itâs a fucking crime. Pinning you down, a butterfly on a board spread out, displayed, unable to do anything but take her sweet, sweet punishment. And sheâs whispering it in your ear, grinding down, rolling her hips, âFuck you. Fuck you for keeping this from me,â with every stroke.
Sheâs doing it on purpose, youâre sure of it. Driving you crazy, making you beg, making you want it more than youâve ever wanted anything in your life. Your hips jerk up to meet her, trying to speed things up, to get that friction you need, but Natty just pushes down on your shoulders, keeping you in place.
So you tell her, "This is fucking torture."
Natty just smirks, her hips never stilling. "Is it?" she asks, as if this all isnât intentional. Like she doesnât have some grand plan to ensure you never forget the things her cunt can do to you. "Do something about it then."
So, you do.
It takes more effort than youâll ever admit, but you break her grip on your wrists, grab her hips, and flip her over, sending her sprawling onto the bed, face down.
The squeal from her. Itâs music.
How her eyes go wide when you treat her like a ragdoll, how her tits juggle and bounce, smacking the mattress. And when you push down into her, slamming your hips into her ass, how she arches back into you, her back bowing like a fucking violin.
âYes!â She cries, fucking cheers into the mattress, like sheâs been waiting for thisâfor you to have had enough of her shit and take her without asking. âYes, yes, yesââ
You hover over her, throb inside her. "Is this what you fucking wanted?"
Natty sighs into the bedsheets, urging her hips against you, begging without words, begging for you to do more.
âYou want it rough, baby?â
âYeah,â Natty says, pushing back against you again, nodding immediately. âIf you can.â
Still with the provocations, unable to resist pressing at your buttons.
You grab her hair, yank it back so sheâs staring at you, force her to look at you. And you fuck her hard. Fuck her like youâve wanted to since the first time she walked into your life and decided to make it all about her.
You fill her with deep, long strokes, fill the room with the smacks of your hips colliding against her, of your cock thrusting into her cunt again and again.
She claws at the sheets, trying to find purchase, trying to push back against you. But youâre too strong, too desperate.
You pound into her, impale her with your cock, watch her face twist in pleasure, in pain. Youâre fucking her like youâre trying to break her, like she asked. Trying to solve herâhow hard can she take it, how deep, how fast.
But Natty wonât give you an answer, she just takes it allâevery inch, ever pump into her sopping wet cunt. Just grins and takes every bit of your need, your frustration. A bottomless pit of pleasure, begging for more with every whine, every little noise she makes thatâs not quite a scream but is so close that it rattles your brain.
And when you finally let go of her hair, Nattyâs licking her lips, and without even a care for what it does to you, she coaxes, âYou can do better.â
You donât know how she can talk right now, how she can even think with your cock so deep inside her, but something about the way she says it makes you want to test the limits of her ability to stay coherent.
But first, thereâs the problem of her ass.
âLetâs see about that,â you murmur, dragging your hand down her spine, feeling the dip of her waist, the swell of her hips, and coming to a stop at her perfectly rounded ass. Itâs a masterpiece, a work of art, and youâve always had a bit of an artistâs soul.
You do what comes naturally.
A spank against Nattyâs ass. Hard, hard enough to make her yelp.
Againâanother slap, another yelp, louder, better.
You keep fucking her, keep spanking her, keep watching red bloom across her cheeks and Natty squirm underneath you. The whines get louder, her cunt gets wetter, but itâs still not enough to dull that smug look on her face.
âFuck yes,â Natty gasps, raises her ass, presenting it to you like a trophy for you to claim. âI always knew you had it in you.â
You grab her hips harder, your knuckles white, your hand a blur as it connects with her ass. Itâs so explicit, the sound of it in the quiet of Nattyâs apartmentâeach spank echoing through the room like a gunshot.
But Natty just takes it, her body jolting with each hit, her cunt tensing and tightening around you.
âGod, donât fucking stop,â Natty sputters, tears of pained pleasure leaking from the corners of her eyes. âYouâre using me so good.â
You lean down, kissing hard against her neck, branding her shoulder. You want her to feel you, to remember you. To not be able to ever feel remotely good again without first thinking of you.
"It's your fucking fault, Natty," you growl into her ear. "You drive me mad."
And she laughs, the sound vibrating through her body and going straight to your cock. "Good," she answers, "Good. Be mad. Be angry."
But youâre beyond that now, beyond the point of no return. All that you know is Nattyâs cunt, Nattyâs ass, Nattyâs moans, and Nattyâs grin that youâre aching to wipe off her face.
"Fucking hate me if you want," sheâs saying, and she canât seem to stop, "just donât stop fuckingâah!â
You nearly stop when you realise youâve finally done it. Finally left Natty out of breath, lost for words. A fucking miracle, reallyâthe kind that makes you feel like a fucking god.
It doesnât stop her cunt clenching around you, tight as a vice, because even now, Nattyâs got some kind of death grip pussy, and sheâs using it to fucking kill you.
You whisper in her ear, âYou like that?â
Her only response is a breathy, needy little whine, so you spank her again.
And again.
Her cunt tightens. Sheâs close, so close. You can feel it.
âYou like it when I use you, Natty?â
She nods, her eyes screwed shut, her mouth crying into the mattress, a mess of hair and sweat and utter bliss.
âSay it,â you demand, slapping her ass once more, watching as the pain ripples through her. âSay it.â
And Natty does, because sheâs a good little whore, because sheâs yours now. âYes, yes, I like it when you use me, when you fuck me like this, when itâs only about you, your cock, your needs, your pleasureââ
God, it feels good to hear her say it, but you still want more than just words. You want her to fucking scream it.
You make the bed shake, knock the headboard against her wall, itâs a competition of whatâs going to break firstâthe frame or her.
âThis cunt. Your cunt. Iâm going to use it. Fuck it whenever I want.â
But Natty catches you off guard, because thatâs what Natty does best. She opens her eyes, looks right into yours, and suddenly she has her voice again: âWhenever I want. Youâre going to fucking move in with me.â
You freeze. Your hand mid-spank. Your cock mid-thrust. It throws you entirely off, because, what the fuck?
"You're going to be my boyfriend now," Natty says, wrenching back control, fucking her ass back into you. Stating not asking, leaving no room for argument. "Move in with me, your place sucks anyway."
"You're out of your fucking mind," you start to protest, but she cuts you off with another squeeze of her cunt around you, and now sheâs the one fucking you, her hips rolling back and forth in this maddening, sinful way that has you biting down on your tongue to keep from shouting.
"Move in and just fuck me every day," she says, all light and airy, like itâs already been decided, like moments ago you didnât have her dead to rights. "Morning to night. It would be so fucking nice."
This is real, you know that for sure. Itâs not just something sheâs saying to get off, not another way to get under your skin. You know it in her voice, sheâs deadly serious and suddenly your mindâs racing.
"Come on," Natty purrs, punctuating each word with a slap of her ass against your waist, "You know you want it, why fucking wait?"
Sheâs not wrong. It makes too much fucking sense to deny. And yet, part of you still can't believe it. That Natty, the girl who's had countless men at her feet, could have any man at her feet, actually wants you. That Natty is underneath you now, eyes glossed over with need, mouth swollen from your kisses, ass cheeks flushed crimson from your palm.
"I'll take such good care of you, baby," she says, unaware that sheâs already completely won, unaware that her cunt already has you bending to her will. "Every day, every night.â
You can't help but nod. You're too consumed in her to do anything else. You just let go of everything. The fears, the doubt, the fucking logic.
And Natty says it, the three words that seal your fateâ"I'll love you," she cries out, "I'll fucking love you forever if you just keep giving me this fucking cock."
It's like the world stops, like everything you've ever wanted is right there in front of you, wrapped up in Natty's tight fucking body.
You're so close, so fucking close, that you can almost taste itâthe sweet release of your orgasm; giving in to Nattyâs unbelievably sensational cunt sleeving your cock, pulsing with each thrust, desperate to milk you dry.
Thereâs nothing left to do but give Natty wants. Fuck her, hammer into her so hard that youâre going to fuck a Natty-shaped hole into the mattress, fucking shatter her bedframe, and then keep drilling her straight through the floor.
And sheâs crying out your name, forgetting about everything that isnât you, isnât your cock, isnât the dream of your cum filling her to the brim and spilling out of her cunt every single day for the rest of your fucking lives.
âAre you close, baby? Are you going to cum for me? Please, give it to me, I need it so bad, I need it now, because I'm about to, about to, about toâ"
And then it happens.
Fucking destroys her.
It hits. A crescendo that peaks as you bottom out inside her, shaking her to the core. Her cunt spasms about you, her body rises off the bed as if youâre performing a fucking exorcism, and she screams your name so loud itâs only a matter of time before the neighbours come banging on her door.
"Oh my fucking god youâ"
Natty gushes around your cock, juices running down your shaft, your balls, and sheâs squirting. Oh god, sheâs squirting all over the fucking place.
Nattyâs body goes rigid, her back arching so much itâs like sheâs trying to fold in half, crying, sputtering these words that don't even make senseâuntil you realise she's speaking an entirely different fucking language.
Not that it matters, because you can tell what she's saying, read it in her body, in the way she's spurting and making a big fucking mess beneath your bodies. Whatever sheâs saying sounds utterly depraved, filthy and so, so good to your ears.
It keeps going and going, until she has enough sense to speak your language again, needing to make sure you hear it when she saysâ"fucking fill me, baby," she whimpers. "Give me everything, all your fucking cum."
And itâs your turn to be hitâlike a fucking freight train.
You're cumming, hard and fast and out of fucking nowhere. Your balls tighten, your cock throbs, and youâre flooding Nattyâs cunt.
Itâs biological, in every cell of your bodyâlike your entire being is coming undone, and the only thing holding you together is Natty, Natty, Natty.
Her body shaking beneath you, her cunt contracting around your cock as wave after wave of cum fills her up.
Sheâs so fucking tight, so fucking perfect, that you can feel every pulse of your orgasm, every drop of your cum spurting into her. You're not sure how long it lasts, how much you give her, but itâs enough to make your muscles shake, enough to knock the architecture right out of your limbs.
"So fucking good, so fucking good," Natty coos. "Fucking finally, finally filling me up so good."
Her moans a lullaby, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body with every syllable. You lean down, burying your face in the crook of her neck, your every inhale and exhale ragged as you try to catch your breath. Still twitching inside her, still releasing the last of your cum, and Nattyâs just lying there, her body limp, her eyes closed, basking in it all.
"So perfect," she keeps repeating, right up until the very end, âSo, so, perfect.â
You collapse on top of her, just lie there shivering together, your face next to hers. Sheâs got this look on her face, a victorious glow, and you just have to accept it. Yeah, sheâs won again, in devastatingly convincing fashion.
For a second, youâre both just thatâspent, exhausted, entirely drained. Like youâve just run a marathon. Or been in a fight. Or both.
Then Nattyâs got the nerve to stir, to kiss your cheek with the tenderness of a whisper. Lips softer than you thought possible, given how hard sheâs just been fucking you. And thatâs it, the moment your body decides itâs had enough of playing dead, enough of lying there like a sack of potatoes.
You roll over, bringing Natty with you, her body curling into yours like sheâs been made to fit there. Her head rests on your chest, her legs entwined with yours, and for a moment, you just hold her close.
It feels fucking right.
"Tomorrow," Natty sighs contentedly, her cheek finding home atop your heartbeat.
You blink. "Tomorrow?"
"Yeah, you're moving in tomorrow." Nattyâs deciding for you already, setting the dynamic for the rest of your future. Doing all this with her eyes still shut as she snuggles closer to you. "I'll hire the movers."
You sigh, the weight of the world and Natty's body both feeling surprisingly light. You think about the next few days, the weeks, the years even, with Natty. The idea is so ludicrous, so absurd, that it feels like a fever dream.
But as you hold her, feel her warmth, her unabashed, blatant satisfaction, something inside you shifts. A reframing of the concept of Natty that you hold in your head. The thought of her naked body in your bed, her laughter in your living room, her mess in your kitchenâit doesnât feel like an intrusion, it feels like home.
"Are you sure?" you ask. A little shaky, a little hopeful.
Natty opens one eye to look at you, a laugh playing on her lips. "Oh, you know I'm going to be the worst fucking roommate ever."
"Yeah, I can see that. But as long as you keep being the best fucking everything else..." Your words trail off into a whisper, your hand tracing idle patterns on her back.
And then she says it again.
"Youâre so fucking in love with me."
Natty kisses you hard, deep, her tongue sliding against yours. And you know, you fucking know, that she's right. You are desperately, entirely, so fucking in love with her, and you wouldn't have it any other way.
You laugh, the sound a little desperate, a little wild, and roll her again, pin her down again. A strange feeling rushes through your mind. Like youâre going to be repeating this exact same motion for the next hundred years. And somehow, that doesnât sound like the worst thought in the world.
Natty squeals, cheers, moans when you settle between her legs.
"Fuck you, Natty."
"Oh, baby," Natty giggles, reaching down between your legs, squeezing you. Once. Twice. Until you're filling her hand once more. "That's what I'm here for."
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đ skz reaction - you fall asleep on their laps
pairing. ot8!skz x gn!reader (individually)
type. fluff fluff fluffff
warnings. gender neutral reader, curse words (thats how i show my enthusiasm okay)
a/n. as someone who falls asleep anywhere and loves to sleep with people around me, i need to have a nap on each of them thank you.
a/n 2. yes the members order is reversed⌠thats just how inspiration struck and i couldnât be bothered to change it SUE MEđŤĽ



(pictures are not mine. credit to the owner!)
(divider credit!)
jeongin ⚠࣪ Ë he would maybe be a lil annoyed at first thinking you're not moving because you want to annoy him. until he realizes that no no you're just extenuated and literally fell asleep on him which would suprise him sooo much. poor baby wouldn't know what to do with himself. he probably woudn't dare to move and would be tensed as all hell. although, slowly, he'd relax and grow into it. once he gets over his fear of waking you up he'd be so so smitten with you, cooing at how adorable you are, to the point where that actually woke you up
seungmin ⚠࣪ Ë he would def be annoyed, going as far as trying to make you move away or scold you to go to bed. it's not that he doesn't like it, but he's uncomfortable and canât understand why youâd want to cuddle him. once he asked why you didn't sleep somewhere else and you explained there was something about him that made you feel safe and at peace, that annoyance and awkwardness *poof* disappeared. he would let you sleep with your head comfortably laying on his lap while he practices a few songs and hums you to sleep aka best thing EVER. once you're fast asleep he would ask for someone to bring you a blanket and proceed to give a death stare to anyone who might make too much noise (euhm euhm binnie).
felix ⚠࣪ Ë when you pouted and asked him to sleep on his lap he didn't even think before answering yes. being very comfortable with physical touch, our lil aussie boy would not mind at all. except he would not be prepared for how ADORABLE you look when you sleep. he would definitely take a thousand pictures of you (which he keeps in a special album in his phone). he would love to play in your hair or lightly massage your shoulders. and after that first time, whenever he sees you yawn a little too much he'd motion for you to lay on his lap. he is not ashamed to say one of his favorite thing to do is gaming while you're dozing off on his lap.
han ⚠࣪ Ë first time it happened he was soooo scared to wake you up and wouldn't move at all. but that stopped very quick lmao, he would love when you fall asleep on him, even though he's not the best for it because he keeps moving and wiggling around. loves loves loves skinship, so he would constantly play with your hair, your clothes or poke your cheeks while you're trying to fall asleep. the only way to make this really work for both of you would be for him to watch his favorites animes while you're sleeping with your head on his shoulder.
hyunjin ⚠࣪ Ë he says he's not a fan of physical touch, but that does not apply to the ppl he's close with. including you. when you fall alseep on his lap he's an absolute cuddle master. he would put his sweater on you when you shiver and coo whenever you make a little grumbling noise. he'd love to draw little sketches of you while you're asleep or take pictures, which most likely wake you up and make you move away and makes him whine like a baby. he's honestly kind of annoying to fall asleep on, but whenever you'd move away he would for sure bring you back on his lap with a promise to stop bothering you this time.
changbin ⚠࣪ Ë despite the fact that he has the attention span of a squirrel and that he's one loud motherfucker, whenever you fall alseep on his lap he turns into a statue. this man will not move or say a thing. he'd love how innocent and relaxed you look when you're sleeping and would be ready to annihilate anyone who may interupt that. the boys would definitely try to taunt him with food to get him to move but he'd categorically refuse to bother your peaceful naps. when they inevitably bring that fact to your attention he'd become all shy and he mumble about how it's not his fault you look so precious when you sleep.
minho ⚠࣪ Ë mister minho would act annoyed for half a second before he pulls you closer and play mindlessly with strands of your hair. there is legit no space between the two of you and that's how he likes it okay >:( he would give dirty looks to the boys whenever they tried taunting him about how soft he is with you. most of the time he falls alseep too, his hands resting on your hips while the boys take pictures of the pair of you. when they show them to you guys afterwards he says nothing but has a small shy smile and you can bet your ass he will have one of those pictures as his background.
bangchan ⚠࣪ Ë he would fucking love when you fall asleep on his lap. it's no secret channie is one caring little fucker and he loves to care for/protect the people he loves. the first time you would settle your head on his lap to relax he'd try to play it cool as if it was no big deal, but when he'd realize you actually fell asleep his heart would be seconds away from fricking exploding. you'd look so cute and cozy and keep wiggling to be closer to him. it would definitly make his lil soft heart flutter and he would make funny faces, incapable of containing the effect you have on him (which the boys love to make fun of him for). after the first time, he'd declare himself your official nap spot and it would not be negotiable or else heâd pout and whine until you finally come to him.
#ilya writes#stray kids fanfic#stray kids x reader#stray kids#stray kids fluff#bang chan#lee know#changbin#hyunjin#han skz#felix skz#seungmin#i.n skz#ilya's skz reaction
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i feel like sev would be like this w reader bc she nvr wants to objectify or make them feel uncom but canât help but speak before she thinks đ especially with mom!reader
HAHHADHEWPH this is hilarious
men and minors dni
the thing is, sevika's never been like this before. she's usually all cool and suave and sexy when she's trying to put the moves on someone, but you make her all honest and stupid and outrageously horny. and she finds herself saying some truly obscene things to you.
you send her a picture of an outfit you picked out for a work meeting? she's texting you back before her mind can even comprehend what her horny lizard brain is typing. puddle in my boxers now, thanks.
it only takes a moment for her to become shocked by her words-- flustering even herself with her strong reaction. and then she's texting you again. was that too much? it's only seven in the morning...
and then she thinks about it for a second... her chin in her hand while she waits for you to read her texts. you're her girlfriend, she's allowed to act desperately horny about you... right? so, she sends a third text. i mean, i am sorry if it was tmi, but it's true. you're so fucking hot. i'm gonna have to jerk off to that picture before work.
and then, she fucking panics, and sends a fourth text. unless that's weird and you don't want me to.
"oh my god, what the fuck is wrong with me!?" sevika groans as she throws her phone across the room.
over time, as you guys get closer, sevika's anxiety about her horny ramblings lessen. they don't disappear completely, though.
sevika finds herself cornering you at a fuckin' kids' birthday party, whispering in her ear about how she's gonna knock you up and give you a little kiddo of your own.
but a balloon will pop behind her, you'll both jump, and the moment will be gone. "fuck, sorry, was that gross?" she mumbles as you guys grab cupcakes.
"sevika." you giggle. "i'm very into hearing how into me you are. you know this."
"yeah, but i feel like this isn't... an appropriate environment..." she cringes as she looks around at the gaggle of kids screaming and laughing. you cackle and kiss her cheek.
"maybe save it for home, yeah." you agree.
once you're married, sevika refuses to apologize-- no matter how insanely horny she's acting. you're her wife now. she's allowed to be feral about you.
you post a selfie on one of your social medias? she's commenting underneath: 'god i can't wait to sit on that pretty face tonight <3'
you show your followers the dinner you're cooking up, and sevika reposts it with 'wifey's getting pregnant tonight!'
and if you ever scold her for it-- reminding her your co-workers and families can see what she's posting, she just shrugs with a smile.
"well, i'm not lying."
you laugh. "you're traumatizing people."
"please. they're just jealous." she scoffs.
taglist!
@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner
@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther
@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart
@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette
@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp
@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner
@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke
@strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25
@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby
@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion
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A Week (He Will Take You)
~
Danny moved to Gotham for school, while there he noticed that Gotham's ambient ecto was really murky for lack of a better word.
This didn't really affect him too much besides a mild headache every once in a while but that also just might be stress from all his school work so maybe not.
Anyway
This murky ecto seemed to effect the people who lived there or more importantly the ghosts,
They were visible to the human eye like most ghosts back in Amity but instead of looking very much like a ghost they still looked like humans if a bit off putting.
They all seemed to be continuing their normal lives as if still fully alive, with the people around them none the wiser.
Danny noticed this and began approaching them to figure out what was going on.
Apparently the murky ecto in the city had made it so that they were strong enough to still continue a somewhat normal life but not be able to cross over to the GZ.
In other words they were stuck in Gotham
Danny was the Ghost King so he could easily fix this problem, all he needed to do was give them a bit of pure ecto for around a week to fully stabilize them them then he would just open a portal into the GZ and they could cross over with all their things also transferring into the GZ for their new haunt.
Unfortunately this looked rather worrying to an outsider,
Imagine you're used to your neighbor being very outgoing so you and others see them a lot suddenly this man seems to appear in their life out of nowhere an at exactly one week, your neighbor and all their belongings in their home disappear no trace to be found.
You tell people and they begin saying the same story they knew someone and them a man with black hair and blue eyes appeared in their life, then they and all their things disappear in exactly one week.
Of course the police in Gotham do the bare minimum so they're no help.
But it starts to begin a trend, especially online.
"Oh careful or the blue eyed man will make you disappear in a week"
This of course after time catches the bats attention, Gordon had already given them all the information he had.
"Young adult early twenties, dark hair, blue eyes"
That was it.
The bats look into it and from their point of view Danny is a serial killer.
But they can't find the connection between all of his victims, they range from young children and the elderly from different backgrounds absolutely no connection,
Worrying enough he doesn't just make one person disappear he has taken entire families up to over a dozen, without anyone figuring out how he's doing it or why at all.
The disturbing thing also being that he seems to take everything in their home, leaving it like it has always been empty
Like no one had been living in it.
People have tried to take photos of Danny get some kind of evidence of his existence, but when they try to do it, it either comes out completely corrupted or their devise simply shuts down fully.
Danny of course has no clue what is happening he's just happy that he's able to help so many ghosts, and is trying not to fail his exams.
~
Danny leaving the house he just helped: "That went easier than I expected!"
Neighbor peeking from the window: "Shit it's that guy! "
~
Red Hood marching down into the cave: " The fucker took many from my territory without me even realizing it!"
~
Tim: "I'm pretty sure his kill count is nearing the hundreds and he just started like maybe 4 months ago, this is bad."
Barbara: " I think I got a theory, this matches up with the new school year beginning so maybe their not a Gotham native which narrows down my suspect list."
Bruce: "Hn."
Tim: "Yes thank you B for the insightful commentary"
~
Danny trying not to fall asleep while on his way to class: "Strange I keep seeing shadows following me, oh well must be the stress!"
Bats who are pretty sure Danny is the killer: "Has he done anything suspicious yet?"
~
Just an Idea
#glowy-death-ideas#danny phantom#dc x dp#dpxdc#batman#danny fenton#dp x dc crossover#dc x dp crossover#prompt fill#story prompt#prompts#writing prompt#dp#ghost#ghosts#dp x dc
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Ooh okay, so I thought of an idea! I guess you could call this your first request on this account, but any possessive headcannons about the li's from the night shift?
(I assumed they'd be possessive from what you mentioned at least)
Creepypasta Relationship HCs
Characters - Jeff the Killer, Homicidal Liu (& Sully), Ticci Toby, & Eyeless Jack x GN Reader
Summary - How they are in a relationship (w/ a "healthy" dose of possessive tendencies)
TWs - Descriptions of yandere behavior, cheating (and otherwise unhealthy polyamory), abusive or toxic relationships, manipulation, possessive and jealous behaviors, mentions of murder and other violence, & very brief mentions of sex.
Word Count - 3.4k (500-700 each)
A/N: Part 2 is now up folks :)
Part 2
Jeff the Killer
Almost definitely has a thing with control. As an unwilling pawn to a creature he can't defeat, he tends to approach all things in life less than civilly.
You would likely have to be under Slender's control as well. While he could possibly tolerate someone who has been with Slender for longer than himself, Jeff prefers a more rookie member. Especially if you're being trained as a proxy, he feels a sort of satisfaction knowing his own influence is somehow intermixed with Slender's closest pawns.
Getting into a relationship with him takes time, and, even then, the term relationship is used very loosely. Jeff has interests for short periods of time before moving on to something else that catches his attention. Assuming this is a more long lasting type of relationship, that manifests as him basically disappearing for anywhere from days to months at a time.
He doesn't quite ignore you. If you pass him by chance, he'll acknowledge you with a smidge more endearment than just anyone else. Even if you seek him out, he might agree, albeit on his terms and free time. However, it certainly rivals the near infatuation he exhibits when he's most interested.
That being said, monogamy is not to be expected. If you wanted to discuss it, you probably wouldn't get a straightforward conversation even if you beat it out of him. Jeff doesn't answer to anyone in his mind. He gets to do whatever he wants, when he wants to. If someone else catches his interest, you're the last thing on his mind.
On the other hand, you do have to answer to him. Being stuck in Slender's woods as well, there's only so many people around you, and Jeff feuds with them constantly. If you were to be seeing one of them, that's something they could hold against him, and, to Jeff, that's worse than sin. For that reason, he absolutely policies your other relationships, and, if anything escalates, you're the sole one at fault. Though, Jeff, behind all his boasting, is not the smartest and it is very easy to lie to him if you're even somewhat decent at it.
Jeff is also not the most affectionate in traditional senses. While he understands the general norms of a relationship, he tends to perceive gestures of affection as begrudging requirements rather than something he enjoys doing.
His main aim in a relationship would be sex, any other things falling as secondary or lower.
Non-sexual physical affection is generally stiff or completely non-existent. Depending on his temperament, he can be a little bit sweeter. If you were to ask for a hug, he would (given you two aren't in any sort of public setting) allow you to give him one. He, on the other hand, would stand there like a reluctantly breathing mannequin.
Words of affection are also few and far between. He absolutely won't say he loves you, and it would be like pulling teeth to get him to call you any endearing nickname. But, Jeff does speak to you a bit softer than he does others. His compliments aren't outright but rather a less critical version of his usual vindictive comments. Not to mention, if he's feeling especially placid, he might refer to you by your actual name over whatever bastardization he normally uses.
His most likely form of affection would be in gift giving. Jeff is kind of a kleptomaniac, deriving a weird sort of joy in taking "souvenirs" from those he's killed. If he just so happens to notice something that you've offhandedly mentioned before or (god forbid) even something that makes him think of you, he'll pass it on. Usually, that means finding it on your doorstep (like he's a cat giving you a dead mouse) or having it tossed off to you under the guise of it being "junk."
I will add one concession which is that it's not entirely impossible to get some complacency out of Jeff. One thing that he tends to forget is that you're not completely weak and docile. After all, you interested Slenderman in some way beyond being prey. The most effective would be straight-up physical violence. Jeff doesn't understand emotional cues, and he hardly respects verbal boundaries. A fist to the gut, though? He understands that well. It'll make him think twice.
Overall, things would need to be toxic on toxic.
Homicidal Liu
Hardly as volatile as his brother, Liu is probably the closest you'll get to a "normal" relationship
While he holds a lot of insecurities about his appearance, he has much more room to interact with others in the real world than some of his companions do. He doesn't have a particular preference for who or what you are. If you're under Slender's control, that makes things easier. But, he's just as willing (if only a little hesitant) to form relationships with people outside of the creature's sphere
In my characterization of Liu, he has a bit of a destructive need to be close to Jeff. Some of it stems from his desire to return to a normal life while other parts of it is because he feels a need to be treated poorly somehow. Either way, his agreement to Slender is purely out of a need to be closer to Jeff. For that reason, he doesn't really view the creature in as negative of a light as others. Liu might even encourage you to submit to Slender if you haven't already, though who knows how that might actually go for you.
A complete wannabe romantic. If he sets his eyes on you, he'll go about the motions in the hopes you'll like him back. On the good side, you'll get a couple of nice dates and a bouquet of your favorite flowers for any sort of special event. In the case you don't reciprocate the romantic feelings, however, that does nothing to deter him. He just needs to try harder and eventually he'll wear you down.
Liu doesn't see himself with anyone but you, and he hopes you feel the same. However, he's a bit more flexible if you aren't interested in being exclusive. He fears that denying you fully might turn your interests away from him, so, instead, he'll try to convince you that he's better than whoever else you set your eyes on.
Compared to others, Liu isn't particularly the strongest. He's killed, but he doesn't feel any great pleasure or disgust towards it. It's something he has to do to be near Jeff, that's all. So, he's not one to go straight to physically harming anyone who gets close to you-- that might upset you too. But, he is one hell of a gossip. Any possible dirt he has on the person in question, he'll tell you all about it, maybe even twist it to seem like they hurt him personally. At the end of the day, you love him, don't you? You wouldn't want him to get hurt again, right?
On the more fluffy side, heâs the most consistently affectionate compared to others. Physical affection and words of affection are the main ways he would show his love in a relationship.
He's most physically affectionate when taking you on a date. Holding your hand and kissing your cheek, he does everything the sweet, picture-perfect boyfriend might. Liu's also very willing to indulge whatever requests you have of him. Whatever you want, his arms are open-- literally. In public settings, he gets a bit shyer, a pink flush taking over his features as he reaches for your hand or hastily presses his lips to your own.
When it comes to words of affection, he's quite the poet, like an actual love poet. Is his poetry good? That's subjective. If you indulge him, he might slip a love note or two your way. Although, he was far from a straight-A student. You're pretty sure some of the big words he uses don't quite mean what he thinks, but the thought is generally there. Even if you don't indulge his poetry, he'll still let the words "I love you" fall in your direction alongside a slew of other compliments.
Sully
I don't imagine Sully fronts very much, but, when he does, it's usually for a decently long period of time. Because of this, Liu keeps a diary of sorts so that the other can be a little less disoriented when coming to the front. Sully begrudgingly respects the diary. He doesn't keep up with it like Liu and writes far less, but he keeps the important details in mind.
If you're Liu's partner, he's not too interested in you. Inevitably, he'll be curious at first upon reading about you, but, if you don't catch his interest, he'll move on just as quickly. In that case, you probably won't see him until he fronts again.
In the off chance that he does see you as more than some side character, that doesn't really change much. Just because you're Liu's partner and somehow attracted to their host body (even though Sully is doubtful to believe that), he doesn't just get free range on you. He'll hang around you a bit longer, maybe indulge in a conversation or two. If Sully's relationship with you does develop into something less passive, it would likely be purely sexual in nature.
In general, Sully is unlikely to pursue a romantic partner of his own-- especially if Liu already has a partner. For Sully, Liu's needs matter more than his own, so he gets the final say on romantic relationships. But, he's not incapable of experiencing romantic attraction for another person.
Unlike Liu, you'd have to be under Slender's control for Sully to even consider you. He admires powerful people, so, if you were a more experienced member, that would only be a bonus.
If he did let an actual relationship form between the two of you, it would probably be pretty loosely defined. He wouldn't call himself your boyfriend, but he would scoff if you didn't see him that way. With that, Sully wouldn't entirely mind you were with someone else-- as long as he found them worthy.
(I'm not decided on writing NSFW on this account yet, but there's something there... remind me)
That doesn't dissolve the possessiveness entirely. Sully would still feel like he has some say in your other partners if it's someone he doesn't like. Rather than take that disapproval out on you, he'll go right to the source, and he is not opposed to violence.
In terms of affection in a relationship, Sully is a lot like Jeff in most ways. He's not a fan of initiating softer forms of affection. You would have to be dying in his arms to get him to hug you and most kisses would need to be initiated by you (it's not like he minds, though).
Sully's most valuable asset is his time. When he's fronting, he gets no more than one or two months to get everything done. So, if he chooses to spend his time with you, you better appreciate it. Even if you don't, that might not stop him if he's in deep enough.
Liu would probably be similarly indifferent to Sully's partner whenever he fronts again. He takes a bit more time to get to know you, Sully writing much less about you than Liu would, but he certainly wouldn't grow more fond of you than that.
Ticci Toby
Truly a rollercoaster of a man.
Toby is damn near infatuated with Slender, seeing it as something of a savior to him. Whether you feel entirely the same is irrelevant, you would have to be another proxy. Toby is often trapped in his own mind, not really too observant of things he doesn't need to be. So, you would need to be someone who's a bit more relevant in his life than just an occasional mission-buddy.
Surprise, surprise, Toby struggles with authority. He hates when people have power over him and he knows it (*cough* Tim *cough*). He'll fight any order quite fervently whether that be by outright defying it or just doing something his own way instead. At the same time, he feels the innate urge to be validated for his efforts and garner respect from the very same authority figure. Shockingly, he finds himself gravitated to someone who's been around a bit longer than himself.
You would have to be the one to establish any clear boundaries or definitions in a relationship. Once Toby thinks something, that tends to become his version of fact. He thinks you two are partners? You are. No need to inform you of that, you must already know.
Toby is incredibly insecure in himself. As a result, everyone is a threat to his relationship with you. Anyone could swipe you away if he's not watching carefully enough, so he's on high alert around others-- whether you want him to be or not. At the best of times, he can keep his mouth shut. But, at his worst, he sics himself on others like an untrained guard dog. The offense in question? Causing you to smile in a conversation.
This sort of variety tends to describe most of your relationship. Sometimes, he fails to see any of your flaws, pining any issues he has on either himself or others. Other times, everything is your fault to the point he almost despises you. Those times don't equate to necessarily him distancing himself. Rather, he takes increasingly more frustrating means to get you to change for him. You love him, don't you?
Toby doesn't know much about relationships apart from the stereotypical and heteronormative examples he saw as a child. Regardless of your gender, he tends to think of himself as the "dominating man" of the relationship. Despite that, he tends to be weak to you. It's not the hardest to knock him down a peg or two, depending on his mental state.
His most likely forms of affection are in gifts and acts of service. He's not exactly an artist, but he likes to think he is as he combines various rocks, sticks, and acorns together into some atrocity for you. Almost like a courting bird, he most prefers giving you the pretty or shiny objects he can find throughout the woods. As for his acts of service, those go back to his desire for you to be proud of him. Doing things for you is a natural way for him to achieve that, no matter how ridiculous or damaging your request might be. This aspect of his is almost too easy to exploit.
Toby is very awkward with physical affection. Being around you heightens his nerves and, in turn, his tics. He worries that he'll jab you too hard with his elbow or accidentally smack you with an involuntary hand flick. So, he stays close but never too close: hovering is the best way to describe it. Toby exists near you like a presence, just a few feet away and fiddling with his hands as he waits for you.
Words of affection are also difficult for him for similar reasons. He despises the way his voice comes out cut and stuttered and saying such big things like "I love you" takes a lot of effort out of him. On that note, he can be quite the talker once you two get closer. When he's comfortable around people, he likes to tell them about his interests in long, rambling ways with a little glimmer in his eyes. It's almost comical how easily you can initiate such word vomit from him.
Eyeless Jack
EJ has been a personal fav of mine for many years now.
While I'm an absolute sucker for the beauty and the beast trope with this guy, I think a relationship with someone else under Slender's control is most likely. Despite that, he would definitely be more likely to fall in love with a more human member than another supernatural one. Jack craves nothing more than the nostalgia and familiarity of humanity, so, if a human partner is the closest he can get, then so be it.
A relationship with Jack is beyond a slowburn. He wouldn't admit feelings for you even if it killed him. Jack despises who he is and thinks that every nice thing around him should feel the same. For that reason, it would take you to be the catalyst for the relationship. Good luck doing that though when Jack starts avoiding you like the plague, a pretty common occurrence. Even if you do voice the thoughts for him, he might still hide in the hopes you'll forget them.
Once in a relationship, he's the most likely to make it clear that he wants you two to be exclusive. While I tend to hesitate on making his more demonic traits too animalistic, I think it's reasonable to suggest that he has quite the strong nose. You have a scent, perhaps even one beyond whatever hygiene products you wear, and so does everyone else. If you don't smell like, well, you, it unsettles him in a certain way. That's his reasoning, at least.
In reality, he's more possessive than he lets on. To an extent, it's not a complete ruse on his part. He does truly believe the things that he asks of you are because his demonic nature makes the alternative impossible. It would be a lie to say there isn't some almost inexplicable mental gymnastics to get to that point, however. He can handle you having platonic relationships with others, no matter how much he feels his hands twitch unpleasantly at the thought. Jack struggles to fully commit to making you "all his" given that he doesn't think he deserves anything.
Expanding on his self-hatred a bit further, Jack is most vocal about these feelings with you. The sheer amount of time it took for the two of you to get together allowed for the establishment of more than enough trust on his part. He'll rarely dump it all at once. Instead, he makes comments here and there about hating certain features of his, or, if that's too much, he'll look so obviously sad about it. The reassurances feel cute, almost more domestic than you expected... at first.
Jack doesn't actively seek praise or compliments from others. If anything, he tries to practically disappear in most social settings. So, to have someone reaffirm him so readily, it's almost intoxicating. It would be a lie to say he doesn't fish for compliments on occasion, highlighting some insecurity of his to an unnecessary degree in the hopes you'll dote on him over him. Honestly, you might have swayed his worries on the issue entirely, but he'll be damned if he doesn't hear you say it again and again and again.
Acts of service and quality time are his go to forms of affection. Jack is guilty of hovering even more so than Toby is. If you're doing something, he's willing to help with whatever it is (there's very little he can't do) or at least linger around you if you don't want the help. When you're not busy, he still likes to linger near even if you two are doing separate things. Another heightened sense of his is hearing, so he basks in the quiet. As his partner, hearing you is a big comfort to him, even if it's just your soft breaths.
As is customary now, Jack doesn't think he's deserving of physical affection even though he craves it. He's shockingly strong willed and won't initiate anything unless you specifically instruct him to. He's most partial to being held by you, but is willing and happy to act as your personal pillow if need be. Sometimes, he can be a bit too cautious with his expressions of physical affection. Between his claws, his strength, and the inhuman black substance that drips from his eye sockets, he's a big fan of hover hands.
For words of affection, Jack is not a talker whatsoever. Despite his transparency on his insecurities, it flusters him greatly to share how he truly feels about you. He can only bring himself to say he loves you when he's sure you're deep asleep. Regardless, he'll manage to throw around an occasional compliment or two. Usually, it's uttered painstakingly quiet and you'd be lucky if he ever actually repeated it for you to hear better.
I fear there is some favoritism between these characters and I need to write more asshole EJ hcs.
#â§carn requests#creepypasta#creepypasta x reader#creepypasta hcs#eyeless jack#eyeless jack x reader#jeff the killer#jeff the killer x reader#ticci toby#toby rogers#ticci toby x reader#toby rogers x reader#liu woods#homicidal liu#homicidal liu x reader#creepypasta headcanon#x gn reader#creepypasta imagine#yandere x reader#creepypasta x you#creepypasta x y/n
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YES, WE ARE ALWAYS SHIFTING Ëâđź
manifesting and shifting are one. but why, and how?
so i did promise a longer post and had many asks prompting me to go into more detail
and to do that we must define what shifting is, like what is really is.
The GENERAL DEFINITION for the word âshiftingâ is "A change in position, direction, or tendency."
A change in position as in where you are in life, direction as in where your life is going and tendency being a likelihood or natural indication. For example, "she has a tendency to be lazy" a shift in that would refer to a reality where she isn't lazy.
That's it, that's all it is
You can interpret manifestation any way you want, however the reason a lot of you can't see this is that you don't understand. The stigma around "shifting" has altered your perception of the word and the process. Shifting isn't just you being whisked away on a broom to Hogwarts. Shifting isn't just you being a kpop star. You've seen people speak about shifting in such a way that you think it's this crazy astral, otherworldly experience.
Both concepts are altering your reality, whether you are inducing the void, manifesting or shifting, you are changing your position, tendency and direction. Shifting isn't change, that's it. Both concepts rely on the principle that consciousness creates reality. And in both cases, you are embodying it until your desired reality until it becomes your experience truly.
There are infinite realities, the reason why there is no difference between manifestation and shifting is that in both cases you are moving/placing your awareness in your desired reality. Yes, you shift because you manifested green eyes, because there was already a reality in which you had green eyes and all you are doing by affirming and watching subliminals for green eyes is resonating with that reality and placing your awareness in that reality.
The same goes for pure consciousness or the void, without the barriers of the time, the 3d and outerman limitations, you are able to shift timelines to a reality where all your desires have materialised.
TO SHIFT IS TO EXPERIENCE CHANGE. TO CHANGE IS TO EXPERIENCE A SHIFT. THERE IS NOTHING MORE TO IT
âşâşâş
Now for everyone's favourite counter argument: "Why would my entire family change if im losing some weight?" "I don't want to leave MY reality, with MY people for manifesting something small"
cue deep sighâŚ.
You aren't "Leaving" anyone, when you shift your awareness and place it in your desired state, because everyone is you pushed out, the people around you will "shift" with you to update to YOUR assumptions. This isn't to say that you can shiftier enter the void to help others it means your perception of the people around you will change to accommodate your new assumptions.
You don't "lose" people, you experience them in alignment with the reality you see as desired, eg, you experience the mother who knows you with green eyes instead of brown, nothing else about her changes. Youâre not getting some other mother like in Coraline
The Law didn't start existing when you found out about it or when it's convenient for you. This HAS been happening but because you didn't notice, you were fine. When you have made small changes through manifesting, your reality has shifted to where that has been true, again if you wanted green eyes, great there is a reality where you have blue, brown amber or even multi coloured eyes, but you are choosing to place your consciousness in the reality where you have green eyes.
Your family and friends aren't going to disappear because you have made a change about yourself. Your perception of them changes. If you manifest that you always had blonde hair, your parents will change but the only thing that will change about them is their recollection of you with brown hair, as they now know you've had blonde hair your whole life.
It's not some out of body experience it's shift, you're not waking up in magic world because you wanted a change in weather. A shift doesn't have to be this extravagant event. You only have that assumption because when you've seen people use the word "shift" they use it to describe massive life changes, completely changing the world around them, whether that be for a tv show or something they've scripted themselves.
Shifting means to change, that's it, that's all. "I just want to manifest in my reality" you don't have a home reality as you're always changing. There is no such thing as "your reality" for just one. All these realities are yours in the same proximity. And we are always changing.
There is no such thing as a "home reality" because reality is not fixed-it's fluid and ever-changing. Every time you manifest, you are shifting to a version of reality where your desire is already true. You're not "bringing" something into one set reality; you're aligning with a new version of it. So whether you call it manifesting or shifting, you're doing the same thing, selecting a different reality from infinite possibilities.
I think looking into quantum jumping and a quantum shift will allow you to easier see the unity in shifting and manifesting
Manifestation = having a desire â deciding you have it â by using methods, your awareness is placed in your desired state where you have that desire, nothing else has to change, but it's still a change, a shift.
WHEN YOU STOP SEEING THE CONCEPT OF A SHIFT IN SUCH A HEAVY LIGHT, YOUâLL UNDERSTAND
THERE IS NO SEPARATION, IN THIS COMMUNITY WEâRE ALL DOING THE SAME THING
NOW HEREâS THE LINK TO PART II
#salemlunaa#shiftblr#reality shifting#void state#loa#shifting#permashifting#law of assumption#success story#the void#void concept#loassumption#loa tumblr#loablr#the void state#voidstate#loa blog#manifestation#master manifestor#pure consciousness#4d reality#i am state#respawning#shifting awareness#shifting consciousness
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I will always be next to you...
âŚcharacters: House warden
⌠gn!reader
âŚTW: abandonment issues, hurt comfort

Riddle Rosehearts
At first, he doesnât understand.
You flinch when he raises his voice. You panic when heâs late. You apologize for things that arenât your fault, begging him not to âget tired of you.â
Riddle is silent for a long time when it finally clicks.
ââŚSo thatâs why youâve been walking on eggshells,â he murmurs, the realization hitting like a brick.
He takes your hands, carefully like youâre the most fragile thing in his hands.
âI donât intend to leave you, ever. You donât need to prove your worth to me. You're⌠already enough my rose.â
He may not always say the right thing, but after that day, he works hard to keep his schedule in check. He will leaving notes, waiting patiently, and showing up when he says he will.

Leona Kingscholar
Leonaâs reaction is frustration. Not at you, but at the world that made you feel disposable.
âSo thatâs what this is about,â he mutters when you pull away from him after a small disagreement, your voice trembling as you say, âI just donât want to be left again.â
He scoffs under his breath. âTch⌠You think Iâd just toss you aside like that?â He pulls you into a loose, lazy hug, but his grip is firm. Protective.
âIâm not perfect, I far from that, but Iâm not a heartless asshole. If you think Iâd just go and leave youâŚâ He exhales deeply. âGuess Iâve gotta do a better job showing you otherwise. Because there is no place I rather be than by your sideâ
Heâs not always good with words, but heâll fight tooth and nail to be your anchor. Even if he grumbles about it, he stays. He would always choose you and stay.

Azul Ashengrotto
Azulâs mask cracks the second he realizes.
Youâre not clingy. Youâre scared.
He remembers all too well what itâs like to be left behind, mocked, ignored, unloved. His voice wavers a bit when he says, âHave you⌠always felt this way?â
You nod. Quietly.
He takes a trembling breath and gently brushes your hair back.
âThen⌠weâll make a new kind of contract. One where I promise I wonât go anywhere. No loopholes. No conditions. Just me⌠staying. For you. Always there for you.â
He makes sure to check in more after that emotionally, not just with gifts or gestures. He holds your hand longer. Answers every text, even when heâs busy. Youâll never question whether he cares again.

Kalim Al-Asim
âOhâŚâ
Kalimâs expression drops the moment he hears it. Thereâs no confusion. No delay. Just pure, immediate empathy.
âYouâve been scared Iâll leave? That Iâll stop loving you?â
You nod, tears welling, and he just pulls you in. No hesitation.
âI would never, ever do that!â he says fiercely, his voice trembling. âYouâre stuck with me! I mean it! Even if you pushed me away, Iâd still come back! Iâm not going anywhere!â
Kalim becomes even more affectionate checking in on you, hugging you constantly, sending little messages saying things like âJust thinking about you!â
He treats your heart so gently so caring because itâs the precious thing to him. And he promises over and over, that youâre not alone.

Vil Schoenheit
Vil is quiet when you finally tell him. He doesnât interrupt. Doesnât argue. He simply listens, his gaze sharp but not cold.
ââŚSo all this time, you were terrified Iâd just⌠disappear,â he says slowly. âLike you werenât worth staying for.â
He exhales. Itâs not exasperation. Itâs heartbreak.
He cups your face with both hands and presses your forehead to his.
âYou are not a passing thing in my life,â he whispers. âYou are not disposable. I chose you because you shine in ways most people never will. And I will not walk away. You saw the ugliest side of me and you stayed. No matter what I will always there with you no matter whatâ
He becomes more verbal about his feelings, more transparent because he knows how much the silence hurts you.
And when he says, âI love you,â itâs clear he means forever.

Idia Shroud
Idia panics. Literally.
You confess your abandonment issues during a vulnerable moment, and Idia just freezes.
âH-huh?! Like⌠wait, like really? You think that I could?â wait, I meanâ!â
He stops when he sees the pain in your eyes, and his shoulders fall. ââŚCrap. I made it worse, didnât I?â
But then, in a small, shaky voice, he says:
âI know what itâs like⌠to feel like youâll always be alone. I didnât think anyone would ever stay for me either.â
And slowly, awkwardly, he reaches out. His fingers brush yours.
âI might not be good at this boyfriend stuff⌠but Iâm not leaving. Ever. Not unless you tell me to. And even if you do I donât think I couldâ
After that he even makes a digital avatar of you in one of his games, just so youâll âexist in a place where I can always find you.â

Malleus Draconia
He understands immediately.
When you whisper your fears to him, expecting him to laugh or dismiss them, Malleus just tilts his head.
âYou fear being abandoned⌠and yet you still opened your heart to me.â
Thereâs something ancient and soft in his voice, like heâs cradling your very soul.
âI know that kind of loneliness. Mine lasted centuries.â
His fingers are cood, but gentle when he takes your hand. âI do not love you lightly. If I have given you my heart, then it is yours completely, and I wonât allow you to return it⌠itâs all yours. I will not disappear. Even time itself would not keep me from you.â
His hand moves to your face gently, thumbs brushing your cheeks âI would find you in every universe, every lifetime and I will always choose you, over and over againâ
After that, Malleus makes a quiet habit of always appearing when you need him, sometimes even before you realize you do. He stays. He always stays.
..............................................................................................................................
#twst x reader#twst fanfic#twisted wonderland#twst#twst wonderland#disney twst#twst scenarios#twst riddle#riddle rosehearts#riddle x reader#leona x reader#leona kingsholar x reader#leona kingscholar#azul x reader#twst azul#azul ashengrotto#azul twst#kalim al asim#kalim x reader#twisted wonderland kalim#vil twst#vil schoenheit#vil x reader#vil twisted wonderland#vil shoenheit x reader#idia shroud#idia x reader#twisted wonderland idia#idia#twst idia
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the ferrari guy | jjk.


You hire an assistant â and Jeon Jungkook loses his mind. Is that irrational of him? Not when the guy youâve chosen flirts like a hooker, looks like a runway model and dresses like heâs Giorgio Armani himself.Â

pairing: jungkook x reader rating: pg-15 genre: humor | fluff | chaebol!au | fwb!au | ceo!jungkook warnings: swearing + implied sex + jealousy + insecurity + a certain loml charming everyoneâs pants off <3 word count: 3 k note: Â helloooo fam! i am alive and still writing apparently lmao. jimilter is still a safe space, a wonderful escape from real life and i have no plans of quitting this in near or far future (: no comments on the occasional disappearances tho bec real life has been hectic af! anyways, enjoy this humorous lil drabble from jk's pov (set between part 3 & 4) while i work on the massive angst in part 5! <3
â masterlist | feedback!

â the damsel & her knight â 01 02 03 [3.5] 04 05

On Thursday evening, while leaving work, Jeon Jungkook finds a flashy, bright red Ferrari convertible blocking his car in the parking lot of his office. An office in a building his father owns.Â
Needless to say, he is beyond mad.
"Who the heck even drives a Ferrari in our company?" he barks into the phone, scowling when his secretary gives an exasperated sigh.
"President ma'am interviewed some people today, sir. Maybe it's one of the candidate's cars?"Â
"What kind of a douchy person comes to a job interview in a convertible?" Jungkook is still scowling at the vermillion vehicle when his brain catches up with the rest of the information Haeri imparted. His mouth dropping open, he raises his free hand up in front of his face, as if to stop time. "Hold on â did you say President ma'am?"
"Uh, yes, siâ"
"She interviewed people? Why? What for?" he cuts his secretary off, frowning.
"She is hiring an assistant, sir."
"Whaâwhy does she need an assistant?"
Haeri is quiet for a while. Then she clears her throat. "I would suggest you to not ask her this, sir."
Jungkook sighs. Haeri is always so straightforward with him. Sometimes a bit too straightforward. But sheâs always guiding him around making stupid decisions, and maybe that is why he's had her in his office for nearly two years now. The longest heâs had a secretary ever since he joined the company as the CEO.Â
Thereâs also the fact that Haeri actually has a boyfriend and is immune to all of Jungkookâs charm⌠Not that heâs actually tried them on her, per se. Heâs been otherwise occupied in that department for a while. Very happily and proudly so.Â
Clearing his throat, "Yeah, sorry," he grumbles to the girl, turning around to eye the offensive car again. "I'm texting you the license plate number, will you make an announcement on Prez's floor?"
"Sir, Iâ"
"Good. Thanks, Haeri, you're a gem!"
Even as a security guard comes and removes the obstructing vehicle within minutes and Jungkook is free to leave, his mind doesnât feel settled. At all. He isnât sure what it is that irks him about you hiring an assistant, but it is something for sure. Maybe he fears youâd pay him even lesser attention at work than the scant amount you do now. Maybe he thinks you wonât need his help with the integrated Firewall-VPN project anymore. Maybe he⌠Well, he isn't sure.
But something about this just usettles him. Which is what has him texting you close to midnight, casually dropping his question without offending you with a âwhyâ just like Haeri instructed him to.
⪠hey prez ⪠heard youâre hiring an assistant?
Your reply comes exactly ninety-four seconds later. Yes, he counts.
You heard that in the middle of the night?
He bites his lip, rubbing his reddening cheeks against the cold cotton of his pillow in embarrassment, but doesnât lose hope because youâre still typing.
I have actually already had the interviews today The guy joins tomorrow You wanna drop by with a welcome gift basket? :)
His glare stays fixed on the little, taunting smile for a long while, before it moves to the word âguyâ in your text. Youâve hired a guy assistant.
Jungkook wonders if the bile suddenly roiling in his stomach has any correlation with the explicit images his brain suddenly conjures up of you and a faceless male making out in your office.
God, heâs going insane.

The next morning, Jungkook is barging into Yoongi's office with a frown. "Prez hired an assistant."
Min Yoongi very slowly looks up from his computer screen, gaze wary. "Good morning to you too, Jeon. Iâm doing well, thanks for asking.â
Jungkook ignores the manâs sarcasm and instead drops into one of the couches placed on one side of his office, groaning. âItâs a guy.â
âSo Iâve heard.â
Head whipping up faster than the blink of an eye, Jungkook gapes at your Creative Director. âYou have heard?â
Yoongi gives him a tired look. âMy office is on the same floor as hers, Jeon. I have more than just heard.â
âHave you seen the guy?â he quickly rushes out, wide eyes boring into Yoongiâs disinterested ones.
âMet him. Kidâs jovial and efficient. Sheâs gonna love him.â
What? Jungkook stalks up to Yoongiâs table with a scowl. âKid?â
âOh, heâs probably older than you.â
âJovial?â
âYeah, always got a smile on his face; not a word out of his mouth without giggles.â
Giggles? Jungkook's pinky finger twitches in irritation because giggling is supposed to be his thing. How dare you.
âAnd he's really freaking efficient too, man." Yoongi continues when Jungkook has stayed quiet for too long. "He's got a typing speed of 96 wpm, can speak five languages, is capable of charming every guest with a grin and some sweet wordsâoh! And heâs quick on his feet! Delivered five coffees on two different floors with the steam still coming out of the cups.â Yoongi has a fond, dreamy look on his face, and if it wasnât for the wedding band on his finger, Jungkook would have assumed the guy has fallen in love with your new assistant.
Which doesnât sit well with Jungkook at all. Teeth gritted and fists clenched, he gazes out of the glass doors of Yoongiâs office to yours.Â
You arenât in, yet. Should he pay your oh-so-wonderful assistant a visit before you are?
Youâd surely have his head if you catch him threatening the dude â not that he plans on it; he just feels like he might â but itâs a risk he is very much willing to take.
And so, over Yoongiâs protests, Jungkook marches out of the guyâs office and, crossing the long corridor, lands at yours.
Thereâs an additional table placed perpendicular to yours within the glass cabin and Jungkook wishes he had laser vision so he could incinerate the damn thing in its place. He looks around the office for the guy of the hour, grunting at the small trinkets he finds adorning the new table.
Who keeps a freaking potted plant on a desk? What if it fell off and died?
Jungkook doubts this guy is as efficient as Yoongi talked about him being. He chokes in the middle of the accompanying scoff, though, because his eyes suddenly locate, well, keys.
Sleek, black, no bigger than a matchbox, with a silver, galloping horse engraved on the obviously custom made leather surface. Keys to a Ferrari. What are the odds?
âMaâam, youâre in earlâohâŚâ
Jungkook twists on heels at the voice, coming face to face with a guy that honestly doesnât look much older than him despite what Yoongi said. His eyes are wide and lips rounded, brown hair brushed off his forehead to display the perfect arch to his thick eyebrows. He wears a â Jungkook hates to admit â gorgeously tailored dark brown suit that Jungkook knows to be Armani because he just made the same purchase a week back.
The guy, simply put, doesn't look assistant-material at all. He could be on Vogue's cover with those plump lips and shapely eyes of his. Or perhaps pose for swimsuit commercials with that bubble butt. Or walk the ramp for Armani, Patek Philippe or Chanel, given the brands Jungkook can spot on him.
But he isn't in any of those places â he is here, in your office, as your assistant.
âGood morning, sir!â he suddenly exclaims, and hereâs the jollity Yoongi talked about. âYou must be Mr. Jeon, the CEO?â
Jungkook gives him a jilted nod, hating the flawless mannerism the guy displays and the accompanying subconscious twitch his lips give in response, and inches back towards the door. âUm, yeah⌠I was just leavingâŚâ
Your assistantâs smile falls and a concerned look overtakes his face. âBut you just got here?â
And something about the innocent pout with which he looks at Jungkook has him rooted to the place. In wonder? Confusion? Shock?
Awe?
He can't freaking tell.
âI can get you some coffee, if youâd like? Everyoneâs been telling me I brew a killer espresso!â He flashes a proud smile while Jungkook just helplessly gapes. âI can also get you some snacks? Sandwiches? Cookies? Ooh, would you like some pastries? Our office canteen has some amazing Danishes, would you like one? Ah, your forehead is all misty. Here!â
Before Jungkook can react, the guy is in his face with a tissue, dabbing the sweat away from Jungkookâs arched eyebrows. His smile is blinding, dear God, Jungkook cannot articulate a single word out of the storming confusion in his head. Since when do men have such pouty lips?Â
When he steps back, he immediately gestures to a couch. âMake yourself comfortable, sir! May I lower the temperature? You still havenât said what you need.â
Finally, finally able to collect his thoughts, Jungkook releases a long exhale.Â
Who the actual fuck is this guy? A witch? A siren?
Jungkook needs to get out of here and he needs to talk to you.
âUh, no, thank you, none of that. I, um, Iâm good.â Quickly flashing the guy a tight lipped smile, Jungkook slips out of the doors. âI came to see Prez, but she's obviously not here, so⌠Iâll â I'llcome back later. Good day.â
Even as Jungkook immediately storms out of the office and rushes to the elevators to hurry back to his own floor, your assistant calls out a very happy sounding, âYou have the best day, sir!â
Well-mannered, fashionable, charming in a very alarming way. Dude literally had him gaping for a whole minute with his head pretty damn empty. Jungkook's head is never empty.
This guy is so weird and⌠dangerous. Where did you find him?
And, in fact, why did he come here?
The guy's obviously rich, given all the brands he wears like second skin, so why the heck does he want to work as your assistant? In the same office as you?
Jungkook roughly swallows as the images he conjured last night make a return to his head â this time, with your assistantâs regrettably very handsome face on the previously faceless guy you were making out with.Â
He wants to punch a wall.
What he does, instead, is shoot off a text to his secretary, telling her he isnât feeling well and is going back home. And then another one to you, asking you to pay him a visit tonight. And possibly stay the night because he bought some extra alcohol.
He hasnât, but the first stop he makes after leaving the office will be to pick up some expensive red wine.

Everytime Jungkook pulls out of you, spent and sweaty and satisfied, after the deed is done, he is left in disbelief. Every single time. Is this really happening? Are you really sleeping with him? Do you actually feel attracted to his body?
He is smart enough to not delude himself into thinking there's more to it, but it doesn't matter because whatever there is between you both is enough to astound him every time the two of you have sex.
Right now, as you sit with your back to him, pulling on his t-shirt over your bare frame â Jungkook's mind is caught onto something a little different than his usual daze of disbelief, though.
And even though heâs risking it by questioning the âwhyâ despite his secretaryâs warnings, Jungkook canât help it when he brings it up. "So⌠Hiring an assistant. Why so suddenly?"
You hum and give a noncommittal shrug. "I can't be in the office all the time. It's high time I hired one, donât you think?"
Jungkook doesnât think so. But heâd definitely be dead meat if he said it out loud. âSure⌠What tasks will you give him?â
That earns him a confused look from you over your shoulder. âDo you wanna tell me something, Jeon?â
Wide-eyed, he gapes at you. âWhat?â
âDid something happen with Haeri? Is that whyââ
âOh, no,â he exhales, beyond relieved, then shakes his head with a smile when you continue to eye him suspiciously. âI just⌠Well. Iâm always making Haeri pick up after me as if sheâs a babysitter and not an office worker, you know? So I thought I could use some tips from youâŚâ
You nod at that, turning back around to pull on your panties, and Jungkook breathes easier. He has sold his lie and youâve bought it. âThatâs actually thoughtful and mature of you. Where was this maturity when you had me running after you, though?â you grumble with a playful glare, and he just laughs.Â
âIt is because of all of that that Iâve finally learnt to be mature, Prez.â
Straightening after having covered your lower half, you inch back on the bed and rest your back against the headboard. âWell. To be fair, he has been running around for tiny errands for the two days heâs been here, so I canât really lecture you, right now,â you admit. âBut I wanted someone in the office for the meetings-season that is about to arrive as we near the launch, you know? Both you and I will be busy with the project. Poor Yoongi will need all the help he can get.â
Jungkook frowns. âWhy doesnât Yoongi hire an assistant then?â
You snort at that and gesture to the bottle of wine on the nightstand. âWhyâre you pressed about it? You said you need tips, right?â
âAh, yes, of course. I just want some tips.â Quickly catching his slip, Jungkook pours you a glass and settles next to you, bare, with the covers thrown across his lap for modesty. âSo⌠will he be accompanying you to meetings, then? Or fill in for you while youâre busy with other stuff?â
âWell, initially he will shadow me for a week or so. And then when I get busy overseeing the launch event and coordinating with the Lims and other investors, he can switch between locations around the city to ensure everything is in order because Yoongi canât be doing everything, you know?â You take a sip from your glass of wine and shrug a shoulder. âHeâs our Creative Director, he needs to hold the fort while everyone runs around like headless chickens.â
Jungkook sips at his wine and musters a thin smile. Because yes, it definitely makes sense why you needed to hire an assistant. Speaking of, Yoongi probably needs one as well.Â
Damn, when he used to work as a Software Analyst at a different company, he had no idea the executives of a company had so much to do. It always looks like an easy life looking in from the outside. But as CEO, he has come to learn that if someone in a higher up position makes a mistake, they initiate a dominoesâ fall all the way down.
âYou met him, didnât you?â
His surprised eyes fly to yours at the question. Youâre looking at him with a smirk, and Jungkookâs heart gives a thump at how sexy you look. Your question, though, throws him off. "I⌠How did youââ
You roll your eyes. âHe told me you came in to see me and then left. I checked in with Haeri and she said you werenât feeling well.â
Wow. They both snitched on him. Just great.
And now you're looking at him with barely contained laughter as if you know how jealous he feels. Who is he kidding, of course you know how jealous he feels. You always know this kind of stuff, ugh.
âDonât be getting insecure, Jeon, my assistant will remain only an assistant.â
He doesnât know why you say that, but he appreciates it all the same. The twinkle in your eyes expresses playful adoration and the way it makes his heart race kinda scares him.
But then you lean in with an exaggerated kissy face to press a wet smooch on his mouth. When you pull away, he looks at you with a slight pout on his lips. You tilt your head to the side with a squint.
"What?"
"It's⌠Why did you pick the Ferrari guy?" Jungkook sounds a little whiny, but he can't help it.
You look at him over the rim of your glass, eyebrows nearing your hairline, amusement spilling from your gaze. "Uh, what's wrong with the Ferrari guy?"
"Nothing, of course, that's not what I meant," he tries to amend with a chuckle, but given the way you narrow your eyes at him before putting your glass away to cross your arms, you probably don't buy it. So he speaks on. "It's just that he doesn't look like an assistant, you know?"
"I⌠donât actually. What does an assistant look like?"
Are you being purposely difficult or is Jungkook being completely weird? He's not exactly sure how to explain it better, but he's definitely sure that any other way would have been better than what comes out of his mouth next. "I mean, a bit⌠less⌠flirty, I guess?"
"What? What the hell did he do to you?"
He groans at your excited expressions. "Dude had me gaping at him for fifteen minutes while he talked about God knows what, because I couldn't focus on his words! I don't even like men like that!"
You give a loud snort and then break into loud peals of laughter. "Well, Jungkook, maybe you do! Maybe you just haven't had your awakening yet!"
"Not funny," he grunts, even as a humored smile slips on to his face at your loud giggles. "What did you say his name was, again?"
You raise an eyebrow. "I didn't."
He rolls his eyes. "Well, my dear Prez, what is your new assistant's name?"
"Park Jimin." Your smile turns goofy and eyes almost dreamy. "Pretty name for a pretty man. Right?"
He rolls his eyes at your suggestive wink, grumbling as he finishes his glass of wine in a large gulp.
You give a small sigh. "He's a nice guy, give him a chance. Heart of gold, or whatever they say."
Jungkook decides that he, for reasons way beyond his supposed homoerotic awakening, absolutely hates Park Jimin's guts. He's going to convince you to fire him. And soon.

Š jimilter | 2024
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