#in the E X A C T same tone at the E X A C T same time

[osunari]

⚠︎ s i l e n t t e m p t a t i o n s

(18+)

—ch.3

➤ s t a r t

mr. crawling x MC

- h o m i c i p h e r 𒌧

“Crimson Madness”

The memory was etched into your very mind like a scar that refused to fade. You could recall every detail of that room—the oppressive dimness that made it feel smaller than it was, the faint metallic scent of rust lingering in the air, and the peculiar silence, heavy and stifling, that made the hairs on your neck stand on end. On the left side, a crowbar lay discarded, its surface scratched and dull, but it immediately called to you, as if it was placed there with purpose. Something primal in you stirred—a warning of unseen danger, and you snatched it up, gripping it tightly in your trembling hands. Its cold weight felt reassuring, but not enough to still your racing heart. Almost as if on instinct, you turned to the right and pressed your back against the wall, crouching low as the wall beside hid your small figure, your breaths shallow and uneven. Your fingers curled tighter around the crowbar, ready to strike at whatever nightmare might be lurking on the other side of the wall which kept you hidden.

And then you saw it. A shadow stretched unnaturally long, twisting with the dim light as it crawled into view. At first, you didn’t dare move, your body frozen as your eyes took in the grotesque figure emerging. Its lanky build was all wrong—its arms too long, its movements deliberate yet inhuman. Silky black hair poured in waves, pooling on the floor as it dragged along the hem of a wrinkled black kimono, the fabric swishing softly as it moved. The shadow twisting unnervingly, growing larger as it neared the edge of the wall, until finally, you saw the side of its face. Pale skin peeked out from under the veil of hair, and then—the grin. Jagged and unnatural, it stretched impossibly wide, as if threatening to split the figure’s head in two.

You turned away sharply, pressing your back harder against the cold wall, your eyes squeezing shut as a panicked prayer escaped your lips. Every instinct screamed for you to stay hidden, to remain unseen. But survival instincts had other plans. You whipped your head back toward the grotesque figure, just in time to catch it abruptly crouched directly in front of you. The suddenness of it sent your heart into your throat—a blur of black silk, cascading hair, and that same monstrous grin. A quiet strangled cry escaped you as your hands acted of their own accord. You swung the crowbar with all the strength you could muster, the weight of it reverberating through your arms as it struck the figure.

For a moment, you thought you had sealed your fate. But instead of retaliation, the creature paused. Blood dripped from its nose, a vivid red against his pale skin. He lifted the back of his hand to wipe it away, smearing it lazily as if unconcerned by the injury. His grin faltered for a fleeting moment, and then—he spoke. The sound was guttural, broken, yet eerily soft, as though the words were unfamiliar even to him. “几ㄩ(you) 千尺几匚( ? ? ) ?” he said, his tone more curious than accusing. Another string of incomprehensible words followed, the cadence strange and foreign. “ㄩ几尺几(sorry) .”

Before you could even begin to understand what had just happened, he started to crawl away, his movements slow and almost hesitant. Guilt, sharp and sudden, pierced through your chest. You scrambled to your feet, clutching the crowbar tightly as you stood up from your crouched position and followed his feet.

“Excuse me… are you alright..?” you forced every muscle in your system to inch closer to the sulking figure of the man on all fours.

He hugged his knees, his head tilting to the side, hair falling over his face like a dark curtain. Slowly, he turned back toward you, and the grin returned, wide and sharp. “几ㄩ (you) 乙乂ㄚ乇( ? ? ) 几ㄚ(me) ?” he asked, his voice rough, broken by the same odd cadence. He gestured vaguely with one hand, as though brushing off the incident. “匚千ㄖ几( ? ? ) 爪 千ㄩ几尺(disappear) !”

You blinked, unsure if you understood him fully but compelled to respond anyway. “If there’s no problem, then… I guess that’s good..!” you murmured, your voice still shaky. You weren’t sure if he could comprehend you, but his grin seemed to widen at your words.

That moment stayed with you, lingering in the back of your mind like a scar you couldn’t forget. Despite the chaos of your first meeting—the fear, the misunderstanding, the violence—he had never sought vengeance. Instead, he seemed to understand, even sympathize, with your actions. From that day forward, he followed you like a puppy, silent and watchful. Not a single idea on why he stayed, but something about the way he lingered, the way his form always seemed to loom just a few paces behind, told you he wasn’t going anywhere. And strangely, neither did you want him to.

The shower water was cold, as expected. Rusty pipes groaned in protest as they released uneven streams of water that poured over your rotting, bloodied body. The room was dim, the single bulb overhead flickering occasionally, casting botched shadows across the peeling tile walls. You let the water wash over your skin, watching as streams of crimson swirled down the drain. Blood, dirt, and exhaustion mixed together in the currents, but you barely noticed anymore. It had become a routine—this strange blend of survival and self-care. You scrubbed at your skin with the rough remnants of soap, sighing at the way it only half-foamed. Despite its ineffectiveness, you kept scrubbing, determined to shed the layers of filth and guilt clinging to your body. Despite being an inhumane cruel serial killer, you chose not to be a disgusting one—atleast.

When the water finally ran clear, you shut off the shower and wrapped yourself in a towel that felt as coarse as sandpaper. Your wet hair clung to your face and neck, dripping water onto your shoulders as you grabbed your crowbar, which had become a loyal companion through the ordeal. The sight of the rusted, battered weapon made you frown. You grabbed the old bar of soap again, working it into the crowbar’s crevices, scrubbing away layers of rust and grime. As you worked, a patch of clean metal began to gleam. It caught your reflection, faint and warped but visible.

You found yourself smiling, looking at your warped reflection. You leaned closer, pulling a silly face—tongue sticking out, nose scrunched. An unserious giggle escaped your lips, as if a playful emotion escaping from the vastness of your fading humanity for a short moment.

Is this what innocence feels like? You thought to yourself as you clouded your mind with an unnecessary thought once again. The feeling of having lost your child-like tendencies at such a young age, the feeling of experiencing such monstrous actions influenced by your own tendency to kill human—it ruined your capability to think well.

But as your giggle faded, your reflection shifted. Your own face was no longer alone in the metal’s surface. A shadow loomed behind you, tall and crimson, its form flickering and glitching like a broken image. His round, dark eyes seemed endless, staring straight into your soul as he clutched a familiar red umbrella in one hand. You froze, your breath lost in your throat, the crowbar slipping slightly in your trembling grip. Your body flinched instinctively, but you didn’t dare turn around. The figure glitched again, closer this time. You could feel the oppressive weight of his presence behind you, the suffocating aura pressing against your damp skin.

“You again…” you forced out, your voice a mix of confidence and unease.

The room was silent, only saved by nothing but the faint sound of dripping water. Then, without warning, his red umbrella lowered over your head, as though shielding you. Your reflexes telling you to hold its handle, while your instincts told you otherwise. Confused, you glanced at it before giving in to your reflexes and holding it atop his hand which held the shaft loosely. His fingers lingered on the other end of the umbrella, and for a moment, you were connected. Slowly, you turned, your heart racing, and came face-to-face with his grinning visage. His cryptic smile was unsettling, but his expression carried something else—flustered excitement, almost as though he was pleased you had accepted his gesture of invitation.

You suspiciously looked up at his taller figure— having had enough of the various encounters you’ve had with his utter weirdness, you shook your head and clicked your tongue, “Look." you hissed, "What. You. Need???"

“几ㄩ(me) 乂尺ㄚ几(want) 几ㄚ(you) .” he said, his deep, distorted voice echoing eerily. “几ㄩ(me) 尺几ㄩㄒ(take) 几ㄚ(you) . 卩爪ㄖ(can) ?”

You recoiled, your grip slipping from the umbrella. “No can. You leave.” you replied coldly and firmly, stepping back. Your patience running low at his insistence. Why does he want me so bad? The thought messed with your mind.

His grin faltered, the flickering of his form turning erratic. “山乙卂(why) ? 卩爪尺千ㄚ(someone else) 乃卄几(want) 几ㄚ(you) ?” His tone grew darker, laced with anger he barely suppressed. “. . . 几ㄚ(you) 尺乃ㄚ(want) 卩爪尺千ㄚ(someone else) ? ㄚㄩ(no) 乂卂几(can) .”

His flickering grew more frantic, his shadow elongating unnaturally as his emotions consumed him. Suddenly, he dropped his umbrella and lunged forward, gripping your shoulders with a force that made you stagger. His blackened eyes bore into yours, his towering figure hunched to meet your gaze as your wet hair clung to his hands. “几ㄚ(you) 爪尺几(mine) . ㄚ乃(not) 卩爪尺千ㄚ(someone else) .” he growled, his voice low and possessive.

Confusion clouded your thoughts as his words sank in. What the hell is his problem? you thought, your heart pounding not just from fear but frustration. His possessiveness had haunted you from the start, clinging to you like a shadow you couldn’t shake. Every step, every decision—he was always there, interrupting, intervening, hovering like some obsessed specter. Why? Why does he act this way? You had searched for answers, asking mr. silvair about the strange curse mr. scarletella had supposedly placed on you, but even that felt like a piece of a puzzle too twisted to make sense.

Is he some sort of maniac that has fallen for me just because I’m cute!? The thought made you grimace. Seriously, is that it? Am I really that cute? You thought to yourself half-witted and dripping with sarcasm, you couldn’t tell if the idea was infuriating or flattering. Either way, his behavior was maddening. You knew he followed you everywhere, as if staking some bizarre claim. And now, here he was again, gripping your shoulders like you were some prize he was terrified of losing. His fixation was suffocating. If this is his way of wooing someone, he’s got a lot to learn, you thought bitterly.

As his cryptic smile loomed closer, you felt your patience wearing thin. His presence wasn’t just unsettling—it was irritating. Why me? you wondered. What could possibly make someone like him fixate on someone like me(cute girl)? Whether it was the curse or something deeper, you didn’t care at that moment. All you wanted was to escape his grasp and figure out what kind of chaos you’d been dragged into—and why someone like Scarletella couldn’t seem to let you go.

You shook away any unwanted thoughts, your survival instincts kicking in. The crowbar wouldn’t work; you knew that much from past encounters. Without hesitation, you wrenched free and bolted, gripping your towel tightly as your wet feet slipped against the hardwood floor. Adrenaline fueled your movements as you dashed through the endless hallways, ignoring the clothes you’d left behind and the raincoat ms. bride had given you earlier—which you were supposedly going to wear after your bath.

Turning a corner sharply, you came face-to-face with a dead end. “Shit, shit.” you muttered, eyes darting for any possible escape. That’s when you heard the inviting lurk of a familiar voice. “Psst. 几ㄩ(you) ㄒ乃卄ㄩ(troubled) ?”

Your head whipped toward the sound, and you spotted a vent low on the wall. Inside, a familiar face peered out—greasy shoulder-length black hair, curled upturned eyes, and a mischievous grin you recognized immediately. “You!” you hissed. “Make some room!”

Without waiting for a response, you squeezed into the vent beside mr. gap, his face uncomfortably close to yours as you both crouched in the cramped space. His grin faltered when you forcefully pressed a finger to his notched lips, the chill of his unnatural skin sending a shiver through you. He froze immediately, his flickering form becoming eerily still as your silent plea registered. You gestured urgently for him to stay quiet, and to your surprise, he obeyed, his inky eyes narrowing as he caught on to your unease.

The sound of footsteps echoed outside the vent, slow, deliberate, and unnervingly heavy. Each step seemed to reverberate through the metal, sending a tense vibration up your spine. You could barely breathe, your heart hammering in your chest as you leaned closer into the shadows of the cramped vent. The crimson figure outside paused for a moment, his towering silhouette blocking the faint light that seeped through the slits. His umbrella scraped against the ground with a low, grating sound that sent goosebumps prickling across your skin.

You dared a glance through the vent’s narrow opening, catching a glimpse of the same menacing red hue of his coat, his presence oppressive even from a distance. He lingered, as if sensing something was amiss, and for a heart-stopping moment, you thought he might crouch down and peer inside. But then, with an exhale that felt like a gust of hot wind, he moved on, his flickering form fading into the dim corridor.

As the footsteps receded, you finally let out the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, your body sagging slightly in relief. Beside you, the man in the vent—mr.gap, grinned again, his sharp teeth gleaming faintly in the dim light. He whispered in his strange, broken speech, “乇ㄩ(he) ㄚㄒ几(not) 乙ㄩ几(see) ! 几ㄩ(me) ㄖㄥ卩(good) 山丂乇(hide) ?” His voice was too loud for comfort, immediately shooting him a glare, pressing your finger to his lips once more. You couldn’t afford for the crimson figure to double back.

Mr. gap’s grin faltered, his upturned eyes turning downward, “丂ㄒ乇爪ㄩ(stupid) .”

Peeking through the opening of the vent, you ran a hand through your damp hair—sighing as you paid no attention to the man beside you. “Geez, what a freak…” you focused your eyes, peering out the peepholes of the vent scanning for any traces of the man.

Mr. gap’s grin returned, but this time it was petulant. “几ㄩㄚ(hey) ! 卄乙ㄚ(give) 几卩乇 几(finger) ! 几ㄚ(me) 乙ㄚ爪(help) 丂ㄚㄩ(you) !” he demanded.

You shot him a look of bluntness. “Nah.” you replied flatly in your language—to which he surprisingly understood.

His frown elongated, his curled eyes glaring at yours. “ﾌㄚㄩ(fine) . 几ㄚ(me) ㄚ乃(no) 爪ㄖㄥ(help) 丂ㄚㄩ(you) 山卄乇(when) ㄒ乃卄ㄩ(troubled) .” he grumbled, but before he could sulk any further, you used his head as leverage to hoist yourself out of the vent.

Back in the hallway, your mind raced. You couldn’t face him alone again. You needed someone. “Mr. crawling…” you whispered to yourself, deciding to find him. At least with him, survival seemed a little more likely. But first—you needed clothes.

“Clothes.” you murmured softly, your voice carrying a note of exhaustion as you summoned the bride. The air seemed to shift, the temperature dropping slightly as an unnatural stillness enveloped the space. In an instant, ms. bride materialized before you, her wedding dress trailing softly behind her as if it floated on air. The intricate lace and satin shimmered faintly in the dim light, a stark contrast to the decaying surroundings of the abandoned hotel.

Her headless figure tilted slightly, her hands clasping together at her chest in a shy, almost guilted gesture. “几丂ㄚ乙ﾌ(hello) . . .” came her voice—soft and melodic, though it seemed to echo from somewhere distant, as if the words were carried from beyond the veil of her existence. “几ㄩ(you) 匚尺卩(need) 乙ㄚ乇几(clothes) ?” There was a pinch of hesitance in her tone, her body language betraying a discomfort she couldn’t express. Her delicate hands fidgeted with the folds of her gown, and though she had no face, her entire presence radiated an air of troubled sweetness.

“Yes, please.” you replied.

She hesitated, fidgeting with her fingers. “ㄚ乃(no) 匚ㄚ几(can) ㄚ丂几(give) 乙ㄚ乇几(clothes) . . . 乙卩ㄥㄖ(sorry) . . !” she embraced herself in shame.

“Huh, why?” you asked, disappointment laced in your voice despite your effort to sound calm. You shifted on your feet, watching her fidget nervously with the hem of her dress. It wasn’t like her to hesitate, and it only made your burden grow. “You troubled?” you added, softer this time, though the tension in your words lingered.

“ㄚ乃(no) 几乙ㄖ(more) . . . 几ㄚ(me) 山乇丂(make) 乙ㄚ乇几(clothes) , ㄚ乃(not) 乇山爪卂(summon) .” she explained. After a pause, she straightened up, determination flashing in her gaze. “丂卩卂(but) 几ㄚ(me) 尺ﾌㄖㄚ(help) 几ㄩ(you) 卂几丂卩(find) 乙ㄚ乇几(clothes) !”

Reluctantly, you nodded, clutching the towel tighter around your damp body as ms. bride’s headless figure glided ahead of you. Her wedding dress trailing behind her, brushing the floor as if it were alive, each swish echoing faintly in the otherwise silent hallway. The unease in her movements didn’t escape you—her pace was slow, hesitant, and her hands fidgeted with the fabric of her dress as though she could feel something looming ahead.

You followed closely, your wet hair sticking to your neck and shoulders, the chill of the air biting at your exposed skin. The dim lighting and cracked walls of the abandoned hotel seemed more foreboding now, every creak of the wood underfoot sending shivers through you. “You acting strange.” you whispered, your voice low as if afraid to disturb the air. She hesitated for a bit, only pausing in front of the door to the shower room. “几ㄚ(me) 乙ㄚ千几(sense) 乇尺几ㄩ(danger) .”

Her hand hovered over the handle, the subtle trembling in her posture making you uneasy. “Here, unsafe?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Her headless figure tilted slightly, as if listening for something you couldn’t hear. Finally, she pushed the door open, and the moment it swung wide, your stomach dropped.

Inside, the air was electric, charged with tension that sent a jolt through your chest. Two figures stood facing each other, locked in what could only be described as a battle of strong hostility. Mr. crawling stood tall, his gangly form looming in the dim light, a sharp contrast to his usual crouched posture. His lanky figure was tense, his arms slightly raised as though ready to strike. The jagged grin replaced with a defensive frown stretched across his face, unsettling in its intensity. His long, greasy hair hung messily around his face, hiding parts of his cold, piercing gaze. His stance was more predatory now, a quiet threat simmering beneath his unsettling calm. He didn’t need to crouch anymore; his presence alone was enough to make anyone wary.

Opposite him stood mr. scarletella, his crimson figure flickering erratically, like a dying flame struggling to keep its form. The broken light that emanated from him cast distorted shadows across the room, each one stretching far beyond their natural limits, clawing at the walls with an eerie life of their own.

The air seemed to thicken with tension, every flicker of his form a warning. His shadow slithering, creeping along the floor toward mr. crawling like a hungry predator on the hunt. The flickers of light cast grotesque shapes on the floor, stretching and twisting as if reaching for mr. crawling’s every move. The air crackled with the weight of unspoken threats, the tension between them so thick it was almost suffocating, like the calm before a storm that had no intentions of passing.

“几ㄩ(you) 几ㄩ(no) 丂山卂几卩(understand) ? 几ㄩ(you) ㄩ尺(in) 几ㄚ(my) 乂乙ㄚ(way) .” mr. scarletella’s voice was low and venomous, his tone sharp enough to cut. He tilted his head, his black, depthless eyes fixated on the other figure with a hatred so perceptible it made the air feel heavy.

“几ㄩ(you) ㄚ几千ㄩ(funny) .” mr crawling retorted, his voice carrying a mocking edge. His jagged grin widening slightly as he shifts his weight, his bony limbs making a faint creak against the wooden floor. “卩爪乇(big) ㄩ乂乃(man) 乇ㄖ(with) 卩爪乇(big)丂爪乂(fantasy) , 几ㄩ(you) 卄山乇(scared) 几ㄚ(me) ㄖ卂几(take) 乙山(her) ?” He gestured vaguely, your heart skipping a beat as you realize he was referring to non other but you.

Your breath caught as both figures tensed, their focus turning razor-sharp. Ms. bride stood motionless beside you, her hands clasped tightly in front of her dress. The atmosphere in the room was suffocating, you took a cautious step back, your grip on your crowbar tightening.

Mr. scarletella’s flickering grew more erratic, his shadow elongating as he took a step closer to mr. crawling. “乙山(she) ㄚ乃(not) 乃丂几(want) 几ㄩ(you) .” he hissed, his voice low but forceful, every word dripping with possessive anger.

“ㄚ几千ㄩ(funny) .” mr crawling barked out a giggle, his grin twisting into something wilder, more dangerous. “乙山(she) ㄖ爪千(want) 几ㄩ(me) . 几ㄩ(me) ㄚ乃(no) 爪卩尺ㄩ(force) 乙山(her . 乙山(she) 尺丂乙(come) 匚几(to) 几ㄩ(me) .” he bragged, though there was a strange edge of protectiveness in his tone. “几ㄩ(you) . 几ㄩ(you) 爪卩尺ㄩ(force) 乙山(her .”

You felt frozen, caught between the two as their feud escalated, their words growing more venomous with each exchange. Each harsh syllable cut through the air like a blade, sharp and unforgiving. The tension in the room was thick, suffocating, as if the very walls themselves were holding their breath in anticipation of the inevitable. Then, as if sensing your presence, about to pounce on each other—both men turned their attention toward you simultaneously. Their eyes—if you could even call them that, locking onto you with unnerving intensity.

And ofcourse this happens.

A wave of panic struck you, the hairs on your neck standing on end as their gazes bore into you. But before you could react, something made you turn to your side, your gaze darting to where ms. bride had been standing just moments ago. The soft rustle of her wedding dress was gone. She was no longer there. Panic surged within you, a gnawing emptiness where her comforting presence had been, and for a brief moment, you wondered if she had vanished or if she had somehow known the danger that now surrounded you. You swallowed hard, realizing you were completely alone.

Mr. scarletella’s black eyes bore into yours, his lips curling into a guilty frown as if being caught red-handed. “几ㄩ(you) 匚几ㄩ乂(angry) ? ㄚ匚(he) ㄒ几乇ㄚ(trouble) 几ㄚ(me) .” he said, his tone accusatory as his gaze flicked briefly toward you.

Mr. crawling’s frown softened slightly as he straightened, his standing posture becoming less threatening. He glanced at you, his lips curling downward in an almost apologetic expression. “ㄚ匚(he) ㄚ卂卩(lie) . 几ㄚ(me) ㄥㄖ丂(look) 匚ㄚ(for) 几ㄩ(you) .” he muttered, his voice quieter but no less firm. His long limbs shifted slightly, as though he were trying to shield you from Mr. scarletella’s wrath.

You swallowed hard, your pulse racing as you tried to process the scene before you. The tension in the room was unbearable, the intensity between the two figures’ noticeable as their gazes bore into you. Your presence wasn’t a coincidence—you were the catalyst for whatever was happening, the pawn in a dangerous game you didn’t understand.

“This is some bullshit...” you snapped, the words cutting through the thick tension in the room like a blade. And then it happened. Without warning, a fierce surge of heat coursed through you, flooding your veins. Your hands, still clenched into fists, trembled with the force of it, and before you could stop it, the tension exploded out of you. “Both of you are acting just as terrible as the other.” a guttural shout ripped through the air, raw and unrestrained. You didn’t care about anything anymore—only the anxiety fueled, suffocating stress that had been eating away at you. “… like some children arguing on who gets the most expensive toy… what the fuck is wrong with everyone in this place???”

You couldn’t contain it. The energy poured out of you like a tidal wave, shaking your whole body with the intensity of it. Your chest heaved as you gasped for air, the anger pulsing through you like fire, burning away the last shred of calm you had left. Every word you’d held back, every fear, every ounce of doubt, all of it was unleashed in that one moment. The room seemed to shrink as your fury filled the space.

In a panic, mr. crawling purposely drops all his weight to his arms and knees—getting down on his crouching position once again as he sees your troubled and distressed figure. “几ㄚ(me) 丂乙乇ㄚ(sorry) . 几ㄚ(me) 丂乙乇ㄚ(sorry) .” he blurted out in shame and desperation, desperate on getting on your good side and not wanting himself to be seen as troublesome by someone he cared about and admired so much.

You glared at both of them, the frustration surging in your chest, you forgot you had been cursing them in your own language—the confused yet remorseful expressions of the two indicated despite not having the intellect to understand your unfamiliar words, your mere actions and behavior told them exactly how you felt at that moment.

Your eyes darted from mr. crawling to mr. scarletella, both of their faces twisted in ways that made your skin crawl, but you stood your ground. “Me go. Should not follow me.” you shot mr. crawling a stern glare after the sentence, earning a saddened frown from the man on all fours—his head so low it almost touched the ground.

Neither of them moved for a moment, the room thick with tension, as if the very air held its breath. The weight of your anger lingering, even as you stormed out, leaving them behind in that charged silence. As the door slammed shut behind you, the sound of mr. scarletella’s flickering faded into the background. Inside, it was just him and mr. crawling, their faces still locked in a silent battle. The flickering of mr. scarletella’s form slowed to a stop, his shadow pulling back as the intensity of his presence settled.

In the quiet, mr. crawling crouched unnervingly still, his predatory stance falling as his eyes—if you could call them eyes, watched mr. scarletella with an unreadable gaze. The tension between them was definitely obvious, thick enough to suffocate anyone still lingering in that very room.

“几ㄚ(me) 丂乙乇ㄚ(sorry) .” mr. crawling broke the growing silence, his voice quieter as he backed away slightly, his hunched frame lowering even more. “几乇(she) ㄚ乃(not) 卩丂ㄚ卂几(happy) . 几ㄩ(me) 山几ㄒ(want) 几乇(her) 卩丂ㄚ卂几(happy) .”

Standing still from the other side of the door, you heard the way your loyal companion apologizes to the crimson man. You stared into complete nothingness, thanking he hadn’t understood anything hurtful you had uncontrollably said earlier. Despite the slight de-escalation, you knew the conflict was far from over. The tension lingered, thick and oppressive, as you stood frozen in place.

.

.

.

“几ㄚ(me) ㄚ乃(not) 丂乙乇ㄚ(sorry) .”

⚠︎ s i l e n t t e m p t a t i o n s

—ch.3

➤ e n d

“Crimson Madness”

[marauroon]

Hellooo! Marauders are taking over my heart my body and my life as well so could I maybe request a fic with James (or poly!marauders whatever you like) with a reader who is avoidant of relationships so once they realize they are loved they try to run away but James wont let her go and patiently convinces her to give them a chance? Thank you so much!

S E L F - S A B O T A G E — POLY MARAUDERS!

poly!marauders x fem!reader | h/c | 4.0k | masterlist!!

the marauders had thrown their hearts at you like it was effortless. and you just couldn’t return the gesture.

cw— relationship avoidant reader, mild miscommunication, mini argument, reader gets anxious and overwhelmed

a/n— thanks for the request ml, this one may require a part two <3

When exactly did it start? All four of you could give a different answer.

Sirius wagers it was the first potions class of fifth year, where you’d been unceremoniously wedged in between him and James as a part of a stupid boy-girl seating plan to stop ‘distractions’.

It didn’t work evidently, and James had managed to talk your ear off almost every lesson since, a familiar glint in his eye that Sirius knew all too well.

Remus would say it was closer to the end of that same year, when they’d somehow managed to invade your table in the library to study for their OWLs and Sirius had managed to get distracted—and distract you—within ten minutes of sitting down, spending almost a whole hour talking at you before Remus had to step in to make sure you both got an ample amount of revision done.

James would probably argue it was the first time the three actually spoke to you, finalised in the way that Remus looked at you as you slid a healing balm across the desk for his increasingly scarred hands with only a mutter that they “looked like they hurt,”.

And you? Well…

You’re not exactly sure.

It was so gradual yet so sudden and now you’re walking down the hallways with three borderline guard dogs at your tail like they’ve collectively decided you were a part of their pack.

And you weren’t sure how you felt about it.

It was endearing to a point, a genuine, unconditional affection shared between the three boys and spread onto you with no request for yours in return, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel almost suffocating.

You were almost constantly in the presence of at least one of the boys, languidly smothering you in unbridled affection like it was second nature to them.

Whether it was Remus slipping you notes for classes you weren’t paying attention in, Sirius insisting on carrying your bag down the hallways, or James sneaking compliments into every sentence he spoke to you, the casual fondness they showed you was never-ending.

And if you were being honest, it was beginning to be a bit too much.

“Here, love,” James passes you a pitcher over Sirius’ breakfast. “You’ll dry out your throat, we need that pretty voice in tact ready for the match later,”

You take the pitcher from him with a raised eyebrow, hoping your fluster isn’t too apparent in your tone. “the… match?”

“The Quidditch match doll,” Sirius takes it upon himself to pour your drink for you, taking the pitcher from your hands like you’ll shatter if he’s not careful enough. “We’re versing Slytherin, it’ll be a sight for sure,”

Oh.

Right.

“Damn right, I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces when we take the cup for the fifth year in a row,” James hits Sirius’ arm lightly in his enthusiasm, stealing a slice of toast from his plate. “You are coming right?” James blinks at you slowly, honey-brown eyes big and round, like he’s silently trying to hypnotise you into agreeing with him.

“I- yeah,” You give him a half-stunted nod, letting your words speak before you can make up your mind and ultimately pull out of it. “yeah…”

“Excellent,” James clasps his hands together with a satisfied nod. “I’ll dig out a spare jersey for you,”

“Who said she was wearing your name?” Sirius turns to him with a raised eyebrow, and it starts a lighthearted debate that you quickly tune out in favour of the dull ringing in your ears.

The way they were talking made everything sound so final, so… concrete. Like you’d just completely melded into their routine through no input of your own.

“You don’t have to,” There’s a soft nudge against your left side, joined by what’s almost a whisper from Remus. “I don’t go to all of them,”

He’s giving you an out. Or at least trying to. You know that if you suddenly pull out of wanting to go that James and Sirius’d be disappointed, even if they pretend that they’re not.

“It’s alright..” You shake your head with a small smile, attempting to reassure both Remus—and yourself—that you really do want to watch the boys play.

James wins his and Sirius’ debate apparently, and a few hours before the match is due to start he hands you a folded up Quidditch jersey with a smile etched onto his face.

“Here you are m’love, look forward to seeing you in it later,” He presses a kiss to the top of your head, winking as he pulls away. “Gotta run for some last minute practice, wish me luck,”

“Good luck…” your hands curl in around the jumper almost instinctually as you stand stationary watching James run out of the common room waving in your direction, and once he’s out of sight your eyes drop to the clothing in your arms.

You hold it up to let it unfold, signature red and gold stripes adorning the fabric and a large embroidered ‘POTTER’ covering the back where it’d meet your shoulder blades.

Well, James’ shoulder blades. It would probably cover most of your upper back.

You spend the next hour staring at it in your dorm room, left draped over the end of your bed as you internally fought with yourself over whether you should actually put it on.

It was taunting you the way the gold embroidery thread caught the overheard lighting, forcing your focus towards the surname like an ultimatum.

If you put on that jumper, you were committing yourself to whatever you’d been thrust into.

And the thought made you almost physically nauseous.

It was like the boys had handed you their hearts on a silver platter, expecting you to shield them inside your ribcage, nestled against your own until they stop beating.

Like they were giving themselves to you wholely, nothing left behind until it was piled up so high that you couldn’t dig yourself out of the iron hold they’d captured you in no matter how much you tried, slowly asphyxiating yourself under the ever constricting grasp of the cage they’d trapped you in until you turned blue.

It terrified you.

You didn’t go to the Quidditch game.

God knows if you did it would end in nothing less than tears, if not you literally collapsing from hyperventilating at the first sight of any of the three of them.

Instead, you burrowed yourself underneath your satin sheets to seek a dull solace, no comfort found in the way you curled in on yourself, but no growing anxiety either.

You knew you’d have to leave it eventually, face the three boys and force out an excuse whilst desperately hoping they didn’t see just how horrifically anxious they made you.

It was horrible really, they’d done nothing but extend their kindest hands to you, treat you like you painted the stars in the sky and gifted them the oxygen they breathed.

And here you were, dreading the thought of so much as glancing at their blissfully oblivious faces.

“Sweetheart,” Marlene enters the dorm almost cautiously as she edges the door open, still clad in her full quidditch gear, sweat glistening against her forehead. “The boys are outside for you,”

“I’m not here,” You muffle your words into your duvet as you pull it up and over your head, and you can’t faintly hear Marlene sigh as she treads over and pulls you from your cocoon of self pity through dragging the quilt out of your hands.

She raises her eyebrow down at you questioning it, but you can see the concern swirling in her irises.

“Just tell them I’m asleep?” You furrow your eyebrows in silent pleading, echoed through your words as you exhale heavily. “Please?”

Shes clearly not very happy with your request, but she bites her tongue and gives you a small nod anyway, brushing stray hairs from your forehead with a sigh. “Whatever this is about, you should talk to them,”

“Yes mum,” You roll your eyes with a feigned sigh of indignation, pulling the duvet back up underneath your chin.

As she turns to leave, expression a mix of exasperation and amusement, you catch the jersey draped against your bed-post in the corner of your eye.

“Marls,” You point to it almost pathetically. “I really don’t want to face them right now,”

She practically snatches the jumper from the end of your bed with an almost scolding expression, and you flash her a guilty but grateful smile.

“I love you,”

“My love for you is dwindling,” She throws the jumper over her arm with an over-dramatised exhale, but she shoots you a flying kiss across the room nonetheless, and it leaves you with a small smile as the door clicks shut.

Although it doesn’t last very long.

You’d given her the jumper to return for you because you didn’t even want to consider what James’ face would look like when he got it back.

But of course your mind pictured it anyway.

The way his hazel eyes would pool first in disappointment before slowly turning to worry, a small, almost imperceptible frown pulling at the corners of his lips and his eyebrows furrowed just enough that it caused a line to form above the bridge of his nose.

You honestly didn’t know if you seeing it in real life or the picture your brain had unceremoniously forced onto you was worse, but what you did know was that you could not face him now.

The minute that boy saw you—any of them really—you knew that the impending conversation that followed was going to be one you didn’t want to have.

You jinxed yourself pretty hard with that prediction.

You’d managed to avoid the three at breakfast the next morning to no credit of your own, slept in so late after running your mind into the ground the night before you’d basically missed the whole thing, but you didn’t even make it down the hallway towards your first lesson before a pair of running feet crescendo’d in your direction.

“Hey—”

Shit.

“Sirius, morning,” You stop dead in the middle of the hallway, most definitely to the begrudgement of the rest of the students trying to get to class; And whilst you regret it almost immediately, Sirius doesn’t have a care in the world for diverting the foot traffic, concern written in the way his eyebrows knit together as his attention stays devoted to you.

“Are you okay? You didn’t make it to the match yesterday, we were worried about you,” His tone conveys less disappointment that you didn’t go and more genuine concern that something might’ve happened or gone wrong.

“Yeah, sorry,” You reply half awkwardly, fiddling absentmindedly with the cuffs of your sleeves. “I’m alright though,” You echo the end of your sentence with a nod, lips pressed together in a line, a mimicry of a smile.

“You’re sure?” He reaches out his hand to press the back of it against your forehead. “Because if you’re ill Moony’s got a bunch of stuff from Madame Pomfrey, I’m sure something’ll—”

“I’m fine, Sirius,” You don’t let him finish his sentence before you’re gently pulling his hand away from your face and back down to his side. “You really don’t have to worry, I just fell asleep,”

“Alright,” He most definitely picks up on the traces of defensiveness in your tone as he takes a step backwards to give you a little more personal space, and you’d have half the mind to feel guilty if you weren’t so constantly overwhelmed by him and the others.

“I’ll uh,” He presses his lips together half-awkwardly. “Let you get to class then,”

“Don’t you have potions?” It’s genuine curiosity, edged with a small amount of concern that Sirius’ll be late for his own class now that he’s followed you half way to yours. On the opposite side of the castle.

“Yeah, but I wanted to make sure you were okay first,” Sirius gives you a small smile, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. “Let me walk you?”

You shake your head slowly, gently pushing on his shoulder. “Go to your own class, Sirius,”

He lingers for a moment before turning to head back in the direction he came from, leaving you with a mix of relief and lingering guilt.

__

Your day is largely uneventful until lunch, the smell of parchment still lingering in your nose as you wander out towards the courtyard instead of joining your friends in the great hall.

You knew they’d be there. Of course they’d be there.

And after this morning with Sirius, which he’d definitely told the other two about, you were finding yourself wanting to be in their presence even less.

So you take your lunch to the courtyard instead, settling on a bench farthest from the entrance to avoid any potential encounter. The peace is short-lived, however, as you hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching.

“Thought you might be out here,” James' voice is gentle, his expression a mix of concern and relief as he takes a seat next to you.

You tense up, trying to muster a smile but failing. “Hey, James.”

“Hey,” he echoes, and you can feel the weight of his gaze on you. “You missed breakfast this morning.”

“Yeah, I—“ You search for an excuse, but nothing comes to mind. “I wasn't really hungry.”

James nods slowly, as if he's trying to decode the underlying meaning behind your words. “Is everything alright? You seemed a bit off yesterday.”

You take a deep breath, feeling the anxiety bubble up in your chest. “I'm fine, really. Just needed some time to myself.”

“Time to yourself?” James repeats, his tone soft but probing. “Did something happen? Are you okay?”

You wanted to curse James Potter sometimes.

How could he be so confident in himself that he could throw his heart at you with no fear of it shattering in your palms?

How could he be so sweet yet so painfully ignorant?

“If this is about you missing the quidditch match yesterday, Sirius and I aren’t—”

“It’s not about the quidditch match James,” You cut him off with a sigh. “Or— It is, but it’s not just about that—”

You stand to release yourself from James’ proximity.

“James, it's everything.” you finally admit, unable to hold back any longer. “I cant so much as breathe without one of you attached to my hip and I can’t do it anymore—”

James' face falls, the concern in his eyes deepening. “We're just trying to show you we care, but if it's too much, we can give you space.”

“It's not just space,” you say, your voice trembling. “It's... even thinking about you three is suffocating me...”

James's face contorts in confusion and a touch of hurt, but he quickly masks it with a forced understanding. "I... didn't realize it was that bad," he says quietly, his usual confident demeanor faltering for the first time in your memory.

You swallow hard, guilt gnawing at your insides, but you can’t take back what you’ve said. You don’t want to. It’s been building inside you for too long—the overwhelming presence of James, Sirius, and Remus in your life. They were everywhere, all the time, and while their company had almost become a comfort, it quickly spiralled into a cage.

“I’m sorry, James. I know you all mean well, but it’s just… too much,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, though the motion seems more for his benefit than yours, as if he’s trying to force himself to understand. “I get it,” he says, though you can tell he really doesn’t. “I guess I never thought about how it might feel from your side. We just… we wanted to make sure you really felt like one of us,”

The way he says "one of us" stings, a reminder of how you were a part of their tight-knit group—no, how they had made you a part of it, pulling you in whether you liked it or not.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? You hadn’t really been given a choice. You had been absorbed into their world, expected to fit perfectly into the space they had carved out for you, without ever considering whether you wanted to be there in the first place.

“I know you didn’t mean any harm,” you say, trying to soften the blow. “But I need to figure out how I feel without… without you all hovering over me all the time.”

James winces at that, and you can see the pain in his eyes. “We never meant to make you feel like that,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought… We— thought, you… We were trying to prove how much we care…”

The tears you’ve been holding back threaten to spill over, but you blink them away. “I don’t need you to prove anything, James. I need to breathe.”

He looks down at his hands, clasped tightly together in his lap. “If that’s what you need, then we’ll give it to you,” he says finally, though his voice is tinged with reluctance. “We can give you space, we can— leave you alone if that’s what you need. We can wait until you’re ready.”

“What if I’m never ready?”

James doesn’t really know how to respond to that.

“I— Why wouldn’t you ever be ready..?”

“I don’t know if I can do this, James,” It hurts, coming out of your mouth, echoing back into your ears. But it’s true.

“I— I know being with three people at once can be overwhelming but—”

“It’s not that James,” You shake your head with an almost imperceptible sigh. “I don’t think I’d even be able to date one of you without being overwhelmed,”

James’s eyes widen in surprise, his expression shifting from hurt to confusion. “Are you saying... you don’t want to be with any of us?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy with the weight of unspoken fears and regrets. You glance away, struggling to find the right words to convey the complexity of your feelings.

“It’s not that I don’t want to be with you,” you say slowly, trying to articulate the intricate emotions swirling inside you. “But I can’t… give myself to you, I can’t— hand you three my heart on a silver platter like you did to me. I just can’t.”

James's expression shifts from confusion to a mixture of frustration and sadness. He clearly hadn’t expected this level of honesty.

“I get that you’re overwhelmed,” he says, his voice quiet but determined. “But can you give us a chance to show you that we can handle it? That we can adjust and give you what you need without pushing too hard?”

You meet his gaze, seeing the earnestness and vulnerability in his eyes. It’s clear he’s invested in making this work, not just for himself but for all three of them. You can see him struggling to reconcile his own desires with your need for space and clarity.

“It’s not just about trying, James,” you reply, feeling the weight of your words. “It’s about whether or not I’m ready to be a part of this—whatever this is. And right now, I don’t even know what I want, let alone if I can handle being part of something with all three of you.”

James nods, absorbing your words. “I understand that you need time. But maybe instead of pushing you away entirely, we could find a middle ground. We could— take things slower, give you room to breathe while still being here for you in a less overwhelming way. If you don’t want us all together then… maybe it’s just one of us you’d be open to starting with? Even if it’s just as friends—”

Your heart softens a bit at his suggestion. The idea of easing into something less intense seems more manageable, though it still doesn’t completely resolve your concerns.

“You can get to know us properly— as people, and let us show you why we care about you.” There’s a hint of desperation in his tone, one that’s mirrored in his irises, swirling in his gaze amidst the sunlight reflecting off of his pupils. “Just… give us a chance,”

You take in James’s earnest plea, feeling the weight of his words and the sincerity in his eyes. The desperation and hope in his gaze pull at something within you, a flicker of longing for a connection that feels genuine and real, even amidst the confusion and overwhelming anxiety.

“I... I can try,” you say slowly, the words feeling both heavy and hopeful as they leave your lips. “I can try to get to know you better, as individuals, and see where it goes. But I need you to understand that this isn’t going to be easy, and it might take longer than any of us expect.”

James’s face lights up with a mixture of relief and gratitude. “That’s all I’m asking for,” he says, a small but genuine smile forming on his lips. “We’ll take it slow, no pressure. Just... let us show you that we can be what you need, one step at a time.”

You nod, feeling a tentative sense of hope as you look at him. “Alright. We’ll start with that. But if at any point it becomes too much, I need you to promise me that you’ll respect that.”

James’s smile widens, his eyes reflecting a mix of joy and determination. “I promise. We’ll be patient and understanding. And if you need space, we’ll give it to you. Just... let us try and convince you...”

There’s a moment of silence between you, the tension easing slightly as you both come to a mutual understanding. The path forward is still uncertain, but the willingness to try and the promise of patience create a small but significant shift in the dynamic between you.

You give him a soft nod. “Thank you, James,” you breathe out shortly, feeling a weight lifted off your shoulders.

James gives you a warm, encouraging nod. “Anytime. We care about you, and we want you to be happy. Just remember, we’re here for you.”

And so, the next chapter of your ‘relationship’ began. Starting in a place that preceded even the beginning.

[councilofcastamere]

DRAGONS AND THE CITY | MODERN!AEMOND TARGARYEN X READER

a b r i d g e m e n t : you’re an assistant to a Baratheon magazine editor in the lonely city of New York. but why, whenever she makes you run errands, do you bump into the second son of King Viserys Targaryen of England?

TW: not as far as I know

A/N: based on sex and the city!

You stalked along the streets of New York, your J’adior slingback pumps clacking across the stony pavement. Your curly hair was thrown back in your face as you hurriedly reached into your pocket.

In all seriousness, your boss, Cassandra Baratheon, had instructed you to be at her office at 8 am and had told you to fetch her a latte macchiato from the new Brazilian coffee shop opening up around the corner of the apartment you lived in.

Well, as luck could have it, it was 7:50 and you weren’t inside the damn doors of the conglomerate doors, which is why you were trotting for your life, every step you take a risk of spilling the coffee on your silk-viscose Armani jumper.

You’d been running for 2 minutes, not paying any attention to the angry passer-by’s you managed to bump into. You thought a simple “sorry!” or “contact me, I’ll pay you back” would suffice as you ignored the angry mutters behind you.

You panted as you finally made it to the bold doors of the largest building you had ever worked at, the door man being courteous as ever.

“As jolly as always.” you chuckled, playfully hurrying into the building. as soon as you stepped inside you hurried into the elevator.

Inside were three other woman. Other assistants with the same agenda and the same troubles, you assume. You flashed a quick smile but of course only one of the women bothered to return the smile.

God, you almost wanted to die of embarrassment. Your feet instinctively tapped against the carpet as you prayed the elevator wouldn’t get stuck.

You almost did trip over the white elevator carpet as you hurried out of the lift, frantically scanning the names on the bold golden doors until you finally read “C. BARATHEON, EDITOR OF WESTEROS GLAMOUR.”

The clock on your wrist compelled you to check, seeing if you had absolutely screwed your heels and stamina for nothing.

Andddd… great. It’s 8:04.

You sighed, pushing the doors forward as you came face to face with the light of the big windows.

“Mrs. Baratheon?” you asked in a polite tone, trying to keep your nervousness from prevailing into your tone. “I apolog-"

“Put the coffee on my desk, dear." the Baratheon replied bluntly, slowly swinging her chair from left to right whilst tapping her nails against the desk. “I do not the time to listen to your excuses, nor do I care, to be frank.”

Rude much? But obviously, you couldn’t tell her that. You’d be out of here quicker than that one time you went on a date with that man that suggested you’d be a knock-out if you just got a little botox.

“Is there anything else you require of me, Mrs?” you asked, hurriedly settling the coffee down on the marble furniture.

“Yes.” she replied, eyeing you up and down with a mean streak on her face. “As you know, the prince is visiting this weekend.”

“May I ask which one?” you ask, quickly taking out your lighter as she took out her cigarette. “There are 6 of them, you know?”

“What’s the name again?” Cassandra asked, although not to you. Her fingers flicked as she tried to come up with a name. “His name escapes me at the moment, but it’s the eye-less one.”

“He still has one eye. Not exactly eyeless.” you chuckle.

“Watch it.” she warns, rolling an eye. “Anyhow, you’re in charge of driving him to the Baratheon manor. Said he had urgent business with my family. I can swear the fucker is there for an arranged marriage. Probably to Floris. It’s always Floris.”

“When might that be?” you ask, raising a brow. “Gotta have a good dress for it. Not everyday I meet a prince of the oh-so-holy Targaryen dynasty.”

“Glad you asked, cause it’s right about fucking now.” Cassandra cocked a smile, blowing the smoke out into open air.

That bitch? The audacity? You weren’t even dressed for the occasion? She’s a fucking menace?

“Alright.” you sigh. you didn’t wanna get fired, you just wanted to keep your job! “Where do I meet him?”

“He’s waiting in the limousine right now, so you’d better hurry your little Dior heels down the stairs.” the Baratheon dismisses you, waving her hand.

“Shit!” you sigh, quickly tucking your stuff into your Khaite the Remi hobo bag. you quickly ran down the hallway, using the stairs this time. you did not even register there was a silhouette in-front of you, until you inevitably bumped into it.

“Sorry!” you instinctively blurt out, as the stranger held you tight, his fingers digging into your arms.

You looked up at the stranger, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t surprised to see His Majesty on the regular stairs of a New York building.

“Your Highness,” you address him, quickly composing yourself. “My apologies, I just…”

“Ran a marathon, perhaps?” The silver-haired prince mused, cocking a brow as you could only let out an unexpected chuckle.

“Uh, yeah.” You smiled, composing your body to stand straight. “Yeah. I’m Y/N.”

-

part 2 coming soon, I wanna see where this goes in terms of popularity which happens to affect my motivation 📸

[your-nanas-house]

Last time ?

◇ Pairing: Student!Tom Riddle X Professor!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, handjob, nipple sucking, boobs, Tom Riddle, small age-gap, characters of age.

◇ Summary: Miss Y/l/n promised herself that it was the last time but Tom didn't want the same.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. This is part 2 of the fic "The Beginning". Enjoy (Part 3 here) Part 4

Several weeks had passed of the occurrence of Tom's little plan, things had not changed much, Y/n pretended it had never happened and he continued to think about her...constantly, incessantly and with his hand around his aching member.

The young magician needed more, he needed her and was aware of it, they needed each other. Y/n just had to realize it- she would do it sooner or later.

Another problem that bothered Tom was that he didn't know how he could find another moment like that, where they were alone, undisturbed and in perfect surroundings. The last few times the boy had tried to ask her for help, she had managed to send prefects or fellow household members to help him, thus ruining the young man's plans.

However, the more time passed and the more a positive feeling came over Tom, the wizard was sure that the right moment would come. Indeed, just as he had premeditated, the moment presented itself.

It was the perfect evening, the perfect place and the perfect time, he just had to get rid of the third wheel that was the older Slytherin prefect to be able to present himself in the DADA classroom all alone.

An innocent smile was on his face as he made his way into the room and slowly closed the door to catch Y/n by surprise, who was still arranging things on her desk.

She looked stunning, the pastel green dress she had decided to wear that day brought out her Slytherin spirit, the open buttons allowed a view of her boobs- her perfect boobs.

She had taken off her shoes for some bizarre reason, her hair was no longer combed and perfect as it had been during the previous lesson but was pulled up and secured with her wand, her hands grazed the parchment paper as her eyes y/e/c moved from left to right, she was clearly reading, Tom could tell, especially since she was wearing her reading glasses.

He had been lucky enough to see her wear them only a few times and each time they created some pleasant sensation in his body.

The young wizard, still wearing his uniform, approached her quietly with his usual pace and then wrapped his strong arms around her hips, pressing her like that against his chest as he left hungry kisses on her neck.

Y/n's body stiffened immediately, her gaze moving to the hands that were holding her captive, recognising the long fingers and pale skin almost immediately. "Tom-" she said his name before letting a gasp escape as the boy's hands pushed her onto her desk, before stroking down her arms with his hands to reach hers, holding them in an iron grip.

"Tom! What are you doing?!" the young professor asked him in an alarmed tone, a blush present on her face "I've missed you" was Riddle's reply, who began to move his pelvis slowly against her ass perfectly imprisoned by the skirt of her dress that now hugged every curve, thus giving Tom another reason to jerk himself off later.

Things did not go as planned, in fact they did not continue as per the Slytherin heir's initial plan. As soon as Y/n reached for her wand she managed to free herself from his grasp and finally meet the dark eyes with dilated pupils of his favourite student.

She pointed her wand at him as a warning not daring to open her mouth again, too embarrassed by the situation he had put her in, thighs clenched in arousal and a wet patch that was growing larger and larger on her hidden underwear, even her nipples had reacted by becoming erect and hard, struggling against the soft fabric of her dress that allowed the perfect view.

"We had a pact, the thing that happened in the prefects' bathroom was supposed to be the first and last time" Y/n quickly clarified, backing away a step as Tom approached not at all startled by the wand "don't tell me you didn't think about it constantly, I did, the memories continued to haunt me" the young man revealed as he moved closer and closer, trapping her against the desk "Tom" she warned him again receiving no response, "Tom" she tried again, focusing on keeping him away from her mind and body to avoid giving in another time.

"Don't you want to help a student of yours in need?" the boy joked in an amused tone, an iconic smirk on his face, his head tilted slightly "you're not a student in need" she replayed softly.

Tom could see from the state of his teacher that she was very close to giving in to the human's more animalistic desires and he knew all too well how to break her.

His large hand grasped hers and placed it right on his boner, which was still covered by the trousers of his school uniform. His voice became deeper as he spoke to her again confirming that he was in need of help "I am very much in distress and you are the teacher of reference for my house..don't you want to help me? I don't think the headmaster would be very happy about that..a good teacher like you who doesn't want to help and provide for her students…" Tom whispered the threat in her ear in a voice that could almost be considered sweet.

Y/n knew that if Tom spoke to the headmaster he would be able to charm him with his charisma, she herself had fallen for it more than once.

Even though..She didn't really want to leave this power to her student, with her mind partially clouded by need and the slight threat, she thought that doing it one more time with Tom seemed the best option.

So her hand that was threateningly gripping the wand lowered and with a swift movement Tom's trousers opened on their own, leaving his length free and less painful.

Now that Y/n had a chance to study it better, she could honestly admit that it was definitely beautiful, long, completely straight, its red tip contrasting with his normally pale almost white skin.

The young professor had time to fantasize a little before he decided they had to speed things up. The meeting with the prefects and teachers in charge of the house would be over in less than twenty minutes, and if Tom had stayed longer things might have looked suspicious.

Y/n's hand rested on his chest as his hungry lips attacked her neck, she moved slowly tracing an imaginary path until she reached his cock, she grabbed it pumping it a couple of times, surprised to feel it stiffen even more.

Tom used to remain as composed as possible in every day life but he almost became butter in Y/n's hands for some strange reason.

The boy let out a small moan as the young woman moved her hand to grasp his wand that she had repositioned in his hair.

Tom's hot tongue made its way to her cleavage as a gelatinous liquid coated his cock causing him to jerk from the change of temperature, his pitch black eyes lowered as he watched Y/n's lube stained hand stroke him quickly.

His mouth was slightly open, his eyes half closed but fixed on her, his hips were moving on their own fucking his teacher's hand at a fast speed.

"I've seen the way you look at me in class," Y/n began, quickening her pace and squeezing her hand slightly tighter, the other free hand began to unbutton her own shirt revealing her breasts imprisoned by her black lacy bra.

Tom grunted at the sight, his cock twitched and he had to take a deep breath not to come immediately, wanting that divine sensation that was the journey to orgasm was to last longer.

Y/n couldn't deny that she was surprised by the young boy's abilities, but she certainly wasn't surprised when her tits were released and Tom Riddle's pink lips captured her erect nipple, beginning to suck it like an infant eager for milk.

It was the first time anyone had ever gotten to suck on her nipples or consider them, Y/n had been with a few men before and after becoming a teacher at Hogwarts but no one had ever considered doing so.

It was a strange but definitely pleasurable sensation, his lips pulled at a leisurely pace on her nipple while his warm tongue ran over it as if he was studying its shape, taste, temperature- everything.

The stimulation of her nipples made the hand that was still stroking Tom's length stimulate the tip of his cock with her thumb, it also urged the other to move to play with his balls and little praises continued to come out of Y/n's untouched lips while she helped her student "in need" ride his peak.

It was an intense sensation, Tom could tell for sure, and so could Y/n since all his release had managed to soil her thighs, hands and even the floor.

Before the clock struck the pre-set time for the end of the meeting, Y/n still had time to bring her hand up to her mouth, tasting Tom as she maintained eye contact, breaking the silence after a few minutes.

"Last time" was the last thing he whispered in a stern tone before snapping her fingers and making everything go back to the way it was before, just in time for Albus Dumbledore to enter the classroom after knocking twice.

Taglist:

@gabile18 , @mrsfullbuster500 , @rex-ray , @elizamalfoyy, @eovjjj , @monkeyking-and-liuer-mate , @jeremiah-va1eska , @gothamchic16, @rabbiteggz , @dieg0brandos-wife , @rottenecstasy , @lazyexcuse , @teh-vampire-bunny , @lobotomy-lover , @slasher-smasher , @sleepycreativewriter

[thekombuchagirl]

CODE ZERO

Summary: It was an ordinary humid sunday of June until it wasn't. Of all things you expected to happen in the summer of '25, preventing the spread of another epidemic wasn't one. Locked in the pantry of a cafe with a masked stranger, all you could hear outside were animalistic groans and the occasional crackle of breaking bones. Just when you thought that the last moments of your life would be sitting across an intimidatingly hot man, a table flips, literally.

Pairing: discharged soldier!yoongi x fem journalist!reader

what to expect? gore, zombies, banter in the face of death, explicit language, yoongi walks around in a tank with a manbun for a whole day, reader develops a liking for smashing skulls halfway through the story, sexual tension that can be cut with a knife and eventual smut

Age rating: 18+ mdni!

Tags: @ktownshizzle @mysteriousgeminizone

chapter warnings: gore, graphic description of violence, mentions of death, cursing

a/n: hello! thank you so much for reading my story and if you can take a minute to drop your valuable feedback that would be even more amazing!

C H A P T E R O N E

"No network, nothing at all. Can you check yours once again please?"

You looked expectantly at the man sitting by the door. His mask was now hanging on his chin and it had been irking you for a while. Why wear a mask at all if it is not actually masking anything? But you let it be since he was the one who saved you from whatever was happening outside and he looked awfully familiar. The more you looked at him the more familiar he looked but you couldn't put a finger on where exactly you knew him from. He didn't seem to think the same for you, however.

"For the seventh time in the last ten minutes, no. There is no network. Not in yours. Not in mine. Because it has been shut down."

He spoke in small sentences, pronouncing each word like he was speaking to a child. It only annoyed you further. You weren't asking to play games on his phone or something. You were asking because there was something out there that was making people rip each other's skin like paper and bite off their flesh. It was probably the end of the world and the man in front of you was unbothered and even annoyed at your very obvious concern.

"How do you plan to get out of here then? We can't call for emergency services-"

"Out of here? Emergency service? Woah," he slid up against the door, dusting his arse and for the first time since you encountered him, broke into a fit of laughter. "Do you think the government people will come to save you with those things out there? The ministers are probably out of the country by now and the town is under lockdown. The end of the world shit is only for the ordinary folks. For people like us. When the world ends for us, it is just renovation for them."

The nonchalance was gone instead his dark eyes were suddenly filled with fury. You hated to admit it to yourself but he was right. The government was going to do no good any time soon and you knew it, more than anyone else. But you didn't like his tone. You didn't like how he was talking down to you from the beginning for no reason. All the points that he won for saving you were exhausted. So it didn't take you a lot of effort to match his tone.

"So what? We just sit here waiting for those things to break in eventually and then what?"

He stared at you wordlessly. When his nonchalance had dropped, that was the first second of satisfaction for you. Now that he was staring at you silently, you felt that satisfaction grow in you. It made no sense for you to be that petty in that situation but then again, too much was happening in too little time.

"What? Nothing to say any-"

"Don't move."

Your blood ran cold. You could see it now. His eyes weren't on you, they were focused on something behind you. The skin on your back tingled and your vision blurred. You could hear a soft thud and then a scratch, as if someone was dragging their feet. It was coming closer and closer. Before long, you finally heard it. A growl.

Through your blurred vision, you could only see the man in front of you. His pale skin was blindingly bright now that there was light flooding in from the back. Why didn't you check for a door at the back? Why did you let your guards down? You could see his dark brown orbs flit back and forth between you and the thing behind you. For a moment, you wished he would save you again. But why would he when he could push you off as bait and take his chance of escape?

You closed your eyes. You could feel your knees slowly give away as your childhood, your teenage and your years working as an investigative journalist flash before your eyes. Your colleagues had always despised you because you'd somehow manage to avoid the risky cases, ones where you could come close to the face of death. They would probably be glad to know how you went. But there was so much left to be done. It felt too soon. You were leaving too soon.

A snarl and then a choked out growl rumbled in the air behind you. This was it. You took one deep breath. This was it. You exhaled.

That's when a table flipped. Literally.

You heard the crash before you opened your eyes to see it. A broken table that had been lying useless beside the door was now on top of the... thing and by it stood the man. Eyes on the thrashing creature at his foot. It couldn't remove the heavy table from itself. It didn't have hands. There was nothing below its elbows and a dark liquid was dripping from the open joints.

You didn't even realise you were on the floor until the man was pulling you on to your feet, his lips moving. He was talking to you. But all you could hear was a sharp whistle and then buzzing. You could only stare at him, a stranger who saved you once again when he had no need to. Even as he dragged you towards the back of the pantry, you just stared at him. You didn't know how he could tell but just by the open back door, he turned to you and held you by your shoulders and shook you.

"Put it together. We have to leave. I need you in your complete consciousness if we have to leave here alive."

Then it all hit you. The wailing creature below the heavy table was growling at the top of its voice and the other side of the pantry door was about to give away as the thudding of multiple bodies hitting against it, made it creak and shake.

"Are you listening? We have to-"

"Let's go," you nodded at him. If life had given you another chance, you must make the most of it.

"Can you run well?"

"Women run the world."

"Let's fucking go, then."

Your watch was broken. Just your luck. You had no idea how long the both of you ran through the deserted streets. The street lights were off and the houses along the streets felt like they were part of an abandoned civilisation that died away long ago. Abandoned cars and motorcycles left with traces of a darkened fluid that you could only assume was blood. Everywhere you could only see blood. It was making your whole body ache, your feet weighing heavier and heavier as you realised that it was really happening.

You were running so fast that it only occurred to you how far you had come when you noticed the man slowing down as the police station came into sight. On the street before the station, there were two cars that appeared to have been in an accident. You stepped forward towards the station only to be pulled back by the man once again.

"There," he pointed to the entrance of the station but you could barely see anything in the dark. As you squinted to see, your eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness and inside, you could see shadows moving. A shiver ran down your spine. There was no way they were uninfected. A sense of hopelessness washed over your body.

You turned to the man beside you, "where should we go? The hotel that I was staying in is on the other side of the city. We can't reach there on foot."

He nodded at that, "Yeah. Seaside is too far so our best bet would be to take a car."

You looked around the street and the abandoned cars standing around, "one of these?"

"Ideally, yes. But we need to make sure that it has enough fuel. We can't afford to stop at any gas stations once we start."

You walked towards one of the cars with the driver side door left open. It was exceptionally clean. No bloodstains on the windshield or on the seats. You leaned in to check for the key but couldn't find it around. A sparkle of something by the gear caught your eye so you bent over to check it out.

"A stupid candy," you murmured under your breath as you took your upper body out of the car only to come face to face with the man, who was leaning by the side of the door.

"Keep it," he nodded at you, eyes fixated on you like they were back at the pantry of the cafe. He was standing close. So close that if you took another step, your noses would bump into each other. Up close, he felt more familiar than ever. You were sure you had met him before so you couldn't resist asking.

"Have we met be-"

You didn't even know you had it in you to move that fast. One moment you were looking at him and the next you were pulling him back and behind you. From behind the car appeared something that you could never even have seen in your nightmare. It was a man or at least it used to be a man. His mouth hung open, lips split on the side abnormally. It was as if he had ripped his mouth open to take a massive bite of something. With his one eye open, he was dragging himself to the side of the car where you stood and from the other, a pen was sticking out through his split eyeball. As his full body came to view, a huge chunk of his shoulder was missing and the white of the bones was dripping with dark red.

"Holy shit- fuck. Fuck. Fuck," you stumbled backwards with the man right behind you. "We need to run. Run. Run. Fucking hell, just run."

"We won't be able to make it on foot. Look," he pointed towards the police station out of which more of those things were coming out like flies. So many. Of course. If the station was as packed as you had seen it when you were on your way to the cafe, then there had to be hundreds of those in there.

"Motherfuck-"

"Come on," he pulled you backwards by your arm. By then the night sky was filled with growls and snarls as those things started coming out of every house, every corner.

A horde of those things were emerging out of all those abandoned houses that you had crossed and you spluttered in disbelief as he dragged you right towards them.

"What the fucking fuck. No. Are you suicidal you maniac? Why are we going towards them? No. I am not-"

Instead of replying he just tugged on your arm harder, now sprinting towards the horde. You could only turn your head back for a split second but that was enough for you. You were doomed and surrounded. The man dragging you was relentless. As the distance between the horde and you two decreased and decreased, from inside you a strange sensation bubbled out. You didn't have it in you to reform your subconscious so you let it surface and it came out as laughter. As the man dragged you ahead, you laughed your heart out.

He looked back at you for a second with furrowed eyebrows and when he saw you laughing so much that your eyes were tearing up, he couldn't help but comment, "what a fucking psycho-"

At that moment, as the two of you reached so close to the horde that their extended arms were about to touch your skin, he left your side.

Horrified you turn to your side to curse him out for betraying you at the end, only to find him on top of a motorcycle that somehow had the key in it. He looked at you, with the subtlest smirk, ushering you on.

"What the fuck."

You got on just in time and off you went straight towards the other side. The horde that had emerged out of the police station was more scattered because they seemed confused at the quick direction changes. As the motorcycle breezed past the infected with zig zags that would have normally made you insanely mad, you let out a sigh. The road ahead was clear. You were saved. Again.

The entire city seemed to be under a powercut as you went through the blocks. The wind crashing against your face made your eyes flutter close. You didn't realise how exhausted you were. But even in that exhaustion, you couldn't help but be grateful to the man who had once again saved you. His hair fell in soft waves till almost his shoulders. You couldn't contain the sudden rush of emotions that ran through your body. In the span of a day, everything turned upside down.

In the exhaustion washing over your senses, you found it easy to be grateful. So you leaned in closer to the man, your chin nearly resting on his shoulder as you finally asked what you should have asked hours ago.

"What's your name?"

The wind cut through your voice making your question sound barely coherent. He confirmed your thoughts when he turned his head to the side, "Huh?"

"Your name. What's your name?"

You asked louder this time. His shoulders shook as if he was chuckling. Soon enough you could hear him again, his voice laced with humour, "Finally cared to ask?"

"Just say it. You're annoying enough," you made sure your tone was fussy enough but you couldn't help the smile that was tugging on your lips.

"Yoongi. Min Yoongi."

You nodded. Not that he could see you.

"Now, hold on tight," what he said next immediately made your smile drop.

How on earth did he know your name?

[sleepybbie]

Hi! Your Blade thirst Drabble was so hot 🥵 could I request a thirst Drabble for IL! Dan Heng x reader please? Thanks!

𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 | dan heng • imbibitor lunae drabble

a/n: my inbox has been filled with dan heng il/dan feng lately what has hoyoverse been feeding to that man to make everyone so down bad for him? T^T

dan heng il x fem!reader

warning: smutty drabble below!

no matter how many times he tells you, you just seem to can’t take your hands off his horns.

you couldn't help it! they were so fascinating to look at. touch even—there's just something so intriguing about them. vidyadhara such as him are indeed enchanting species from the xianzhou. however, it's not because of his bashfulness of why DAN HENG won't allow you to touch his horns; there's another reason behind his refusal to let anyone lay a finger on his horns at all.

it's simply because dan heng's horns are sensitive. and also it secretly...makes him easily aroused.

he's not sure why it has come to that of a certain conclusion, yet that was just him expressing the matter of the fact. everyone had taken note not prod on them for the sake of his space, but here you are...

rubbing on his horns while he whimpers beneath you as you sat on his lap.

his face was so flushed, panting heavily while he roughly holds on your waist to keep you still, the same movement you did while you rub on his horns. this felt odd...and he was also feeling hard at the same time. oh aeons, this isn't good...

"a-ah...y/n hold on...please, don't tug on them..they're..." he pleads with a hush voice, trying to keep his tone down as the two of you were just in his room. you were too captivated by the horns, e/c eyes cluelessly getting used to the feeling while dan heng was almost dying underneath you. he couldn't take it...you were such a tease.

in each subtle touch you delivered onto his horns, you can feel a twitch from his length, all underneath his gorgeous attire. oh so he wasn’t lying when he said his horns were sensitive…

“so you really aren’t lying about these horns…”

“why would i even lie about something like that?? gah..ah…please that’s eno—

you gently tugged on them, and he gasps. oh shit, that was hot. his grip on your waist became tighter, and his rock-hard cock must’ve been hurting badly; not to mention you were sitting down on his lap while groping his delicate horns. his eyes were shut, panting badly while all you could do was stare at his beautiful flustered face.

he can’t take it anymore. you were the one that started this

with a thrust of his waist, he forces his fabric-covered length to hit right at your folds, biting his lips when in the meantime you continued to fondle his horns. fuck, fuck, fuck…he needed you…the more faster you touch his horns the more stimulated he got. how captivated were you? didn’t you feel how hard he is?

“f-forgive me for what i’m about to do, y/n..i just…i need this, please..it hurts..” he murmurs, before dan heng slowly begins to move your hips, back and forth on the tent in his attire. finally, he got your attention. the sudden spark you felt down on your cunt as he rides you down his hardness made you look down. who knew you were able to place the reincarnation of the former high elder of the vidyadhara under your thumb?

“d-dan heng..?”

“i-i’m sorry, ah..please just let me…”

the fabric of his pants were getting wet, his head pushed down on the pillows while he repeatedly moves your hips down on him. you slowly start to mewl, hands finally down from his horns as you hold tight over his shoulders.

“ah…d-dan heng wait..”

“i-i can’t…forgive me, just…”

his fingers were so slender on your waist, tips as soft as cotton while he moves your body down on his hard length. how pathetic he looked, he’s a mess; and all because you touched his horns. you gently pushed his hands off of your waist, it took some time considering how hard his grip was, yet before he could complain, he watches you with wide eyes as you took your pushed your panties aside and pushed his pants down.

he panics a little. “w-wait, y/n are you sure about this? we can just slow—

his sentence was cut short when his aching dick sprang to life, and steadily did you place your now-wet folds on top, refusing to let it inside of you (just to tease him a bit more). dan heng’s carnal grip on your hips returned, and now with a fast pace did he grinds you down. the both of you were a whining mess.

your eyes darted down of how small bits of pre-cum started to shoot out from his rod while prodding yourself on him, leaving a stain on his outfit. biting your bottom lip, you thought of an idea..

maybe…

“y-y/n wait, no hold on don’t..!”

your hands went back on his sensitive horns, having a tight grip on them, increasing the pace as you teased your clit down on his angry red tip, slowly sliding it down back. he moans, quite loudly, he had to bring a hand over his mouth.

it was nasty, the way his fluids were shooting out one by one in each thrust your folds gave, you finally gave one harsh tug on his horns and finally.

“oh fuck..!”

he came down on his high, spouting his seed on his clothes, some came over his face. you followed soon after, your cum staining on the skin of his cock as you both whimpered in unison. you feel his chest heave heavily, e/c eyes dusted with lust while you look at him.

after what seemed to be minutes of panting, dan heng gentle smacks your head, his breath still uneven.

“d-don’t you dare ever do that again..”

but he knows you still will.

[thehistoriangirl]

If You Hadn't Left (Me) [Chapter 1]

I thought I would start posting in the first of February but oh well better now than never lol

I'm gonna post the other fic's masterlist tomorrow I think :3

Viktor x Fem! Reader-----2.9K----SFW*

// M A S T E R L I S T

Next ->

Synopsis:Viktor was never supposed to see you again, just like you had promised that evening when you both ended up heartbroken and bitter toward destiny and all its twisted ways. So twisted as to put you back into his life not only as a temporal working partner to cover Jayce’s absences, but also as the maid of honor in the wedding where he’ll be the best man. Hypothetically, it doesn’t have to be that difficult to find a way around the river of memories flowing between you both. Though, of course, hypotheses are flawed. Just like that part of him that still craves another ending to this story. 

Tags: Second Chance | Angst | Exes to Lovers | Denial of Feelings | Viktor's horny down memory lane* | Reader is pissed | My man is going thru the stages of grief | MelJay bc Jayce deserves to be happy | Eventual Smut | Eventual Happy Ending |

Taglist c: @ihopeinevergetsoberr @blissfulip

That goodbye became a broken promise, cracked over the sound of your voice ever since he heard it at the Council assembly.

Sure, you had spat out the words fueled by betrayal and hatred, but Viktor took them like an oath to put in peace his stormy mind.

First coated in a lie so fragile Viktor was surprised it hadn’t fragmented before, and now this—he was sure he shouldn’t take another glass of wine from the walking waiters zigzagging across the opulent hall—but he had avoided you all night, and he knew Jayce wouldn’t let him go before arranging the “formal meeting” between both of you.

If only he knew...

We congratulate Miss Favred for winning the design contest for the new hall construction inside the Museum of Sciences and Technologies. Graduated from Piltover’s Academy with honors, you're the proof that progress and art are held hand in hand in this city.

Almost the same speech Heimerdinger delivered during your graduation ceremony, only that this time you were all alone on the stage, Viktor's hand grabbing his cane to not feel the growing sensation of emptiness.

Part of him thought it was mere shock. After all, you haven't seen each other in almost ten years; and a petty part of him was surprised he even remembered you, how the image of you was locked in the depths of his subconsciousness that only needed the ring of your greeting to resurface.

But now? Hours after the reencounter? He was so, so weak…

With a sigh, Viktor finally admitted it: stealing glimpses of your purple dress flowing against the gentle breeze was a weakness, though if the excuse lay in masochist interest or avid curiosity, Viktor wasn’t ready to clear his mind. Why would he, anyway? It was a couple of wine glasses too late.

Funny how some things defied the City of Progress where everyone was eagerly grasping the tomorrow.

Viktor just felt stuck in the past, down a path he wasn’t so sure how to slip through.

Your hair was the same, richly stylized and decorated with a geometrical headpiece that looked like a crown from Viktor’s angle. Your time in Shurima had replaced the Piltovan style built by several layers of clothes like vests and corsets for simple, airy fabrics that played with transparencies. The deep shade of violet pooled in continuous drapes ironed in the long skirt falling freely around your hips and down your legs, a gold-threaded corset hugged your waist and framed your bosom, the fabric slowly fading into a lavender tone held like loose sleeves with golden bracelets.

You were covering your mouth while your eyes closed in amused crinkles for whatever the young merchant Mauriel Garfen was telling you as his expert hand twirled you around the ballroom. It didn’t matter much, as Viktor could paint it just fine: with the vivid dark pink adorning your lips, though he knew your favorite color was more of a burnt brown, or maybe even red—

"That's enough for today," Viktor mumbled, eyes looking intently at the crimson liquid as he swirled the stem around his fingers before settling it down against the nearby windowsill.

Suddenly, he heard your happy squeal as you went to hug another young woman dressed in a vivid teal, halter dress. Her curly black hair bounced as you two swayed. Viktor didn’t remember her vividly, but she had been one of your friends ever since your undergraduate years.

If only… Though he knew he didn’t have any right to be greeted as warmly. If even he had any right to be greeted at all. Only because you had returned. Because of course, you did.  Once you had told him that despite the high number of students inside the Academy, you'd find each other in one way or another.

“No, not like fate,” you have told him, voice groggy with slumber as you laid against his chest, hands pointing at his dorm's ceiling where she had stuck luminescence cut-outs of stars. "Entropy."

You were right, from all his perfectly calculated plans tumbling into a state of chaos, one he surprisingly wasn’t against.

Until he was.

Garfen twirled the both of you, giggles bubbling like the nearby tray of drinks a waiter was carrying toward the Councilors discussing on a corner of the hall.

You looked like that photograph he kept in the bottom drawer of his tattered closet, only that the sepia tones eating it away had been repaired with the tone of your skin, the void he left behind replaced with you looking like a fairy queen with your golden crown and dashing company.

Someone more fitting. But Viktor was now the co-creator of Hextech, wasn’t that enough?

His fingers tangled around the glass’ steam, barely feeling the hot sensation of the alcohol down his throat as he gulped it all.

You’re so pathetic, Viktor. Get over it. Why haven’t you done that already?

“Vik! There you are!” He almost dropped the glass with the impromptu voice of Jayce chiming in his roaming thoughts. “I’ve been looking for you all night.”

"You know I'm not… eh, akin to this kind of party," he said, only half a lie. He'd been hiding inside a balcony and then, when Jayce passed by, Viktor slipped between a corner and a column. Now, he'd been too distracted to notice. "I've been unwinding."

“For a moment I thought you were already gone!” He patted his shoulder. “I’ve wanted to introduce you to Miss Favred since morning, but I suppose you had duties to take care of after the meeting.” He had bolted out of there as soon as Councilor Medarda called the session off.

His jar tightened, just as the grasp on his formal cane, naked metal replaced by a coat of black marble and polished wood on its handle. “Jayce, I don’t think this idea about the Hextech Wing would be… good,” he started, pouring in all the thoughts that had flown inside his head ever since the morning meeting. “This isn’t what I imagined when you told me we would celebrate the first decade of Hextech’s creation.”

“Viktor—”

“No, listen to me,” he replied, almost through gritted teeth. How pitiless of him he couldn’t even manage his feelings in public. “We want to help people in need, not to gloat about a fancy exhibit at the Science and Technology Museum. This is just another excuse for the Council to gloat about their grandness. What would the exhibit do for the people who believe in us, hmm? For us as scientists, even? Are you listening to me?” His friend had shifted to his embarrassed posture, where his tall body was trying to shrink into a ball, with hands tightly grabbed against his stomach, gazing at the floor. "Jayce—?"

“We’ve arranged that part of the Museum’s entrance fee is going to be destined to fund upcoming Hextech projects. That way you won’t need as many sponsorships,” Mel interjected behind him. Viktor turned to look at the Councilor, frozen to see the figure tailing close behind. “I believe we talked about it in the past meeting.”

Surely. Not that he would admit he had been too distracted by the nervous movements of your hands gesturing away to explain your design to oblige his mind to follow the Councilor’s debate sprinkled in between.

“Perhaps what he’s referring to is about how much time will it take to seize a positive quantity to fund a project,” you said to save his embarrassing stunned silence, poking your head from behind Jayce’s wide back. Your eyebrows arched slightly, head tilted toward Viktor.

The movement is so familiar from when you helped him through the boring, long seminars with haughty professors and even mouthier classmates. A head tilt and a slow gaze once you had laid the counterargument, ready for him to lock the possibility of a reply with his conclusion.

“I… That wasn’t what I meant,” he said, surprised by his cold tone.

You blinked at him for a moment, a frown slightly forming between your beautiful eyes. He didn’t dare to back out from it, he didn’t have a reason why.

Jayce cleared his throat. “Um… well, Vik, this is Miss Favred, she’s going to be the designer of the Museum ampliation…” He said, and you stepped next to Jayce, lips in a neutral yet mocking smile, with the curves of your lips turned up.

“It’s been quite some time, Miss Favred,” Viktor mustered, a smile plastering on his mouth that was too wide and toothy to be considered polite.

“Likewise, Viktor,” you said, tone sweetly as you extended your hand toward him.

Viktor almost wanted to yank it away once he felt a surge of electricity tingling up his arm once your long and elegant fingers wrapped the reverse of his palm. You giggled, nails digging into his skin with discreet violence.

His lips pressed in a thin line that couldn’t be faked as a smile even as he continued shaking your hand for a minute too long, wanting your eyes to decode the hidden message in his. What are you doing here?

“Oh, do you know each other?” Mel said after calling your name, which made you yank your hand away from his grasp.

“We were acquaintances at the Academy,” you said, gesturing away.

Classmates, the word slipped with an acid aftertaste when Viktor tried to back you up. "Very close classmates." Because of course, this was the perfect time for his brain to break under pressure. Yes, so close you slept against his chest every other night, so, so close that he even burrowed inside of you—

Mel turned to you, with an almost accusatory air. “What a surprise!”

“That was many years ago.” Your gaze swept from Mel’s to his, if only for a second. “I had forgotten about it.”

Oh, so that’s how you wanted to play?

"Well, I'm glad you two can reconnect after so many years!" Jayce said a big grin on his face. The sweet oblivious Jayce. “It’ll be good for Vik to have another friend! It’s… slightly difficult for him to open up and get new ones.”

Viktor glared at him. “Why are you talking about me as if I weren’t here?” he replied, while you mumbled:

“I wonder why that is.”

His head turned toward you in a movement so quick that some of his pushed backward-styled hair fell over his forehead. "Pardon?"

You smiled at him. “I didn’t say anything.”

Oh, you—

"Why don't we leave you two to talk?" Mel said, ignoring the pleading look you sent her when Jayce nodded, saying that there must be a lot to tell between the both of you. “Councilor Talis, let’s go for another drink. There’s something I need to talk about with you.” Probably about the wedding. Not that Viktor was interested in the matter when he had you in front of him. 

From all the stolen glances, he had pieced you whole like a puzzle, filling in the missing pieces eaten away by time with the new image, though he knew some things wouldn't change. Like the way you smelled like hyacinth and mangoes, your favorite fruit. All that freckles and moles and scars dotted around your body like those two small ones peeking over the square neckline on the left of your collarbone, which he knew balanced out with the two tiny moles under your right breast.

Surely your skin was just as heavenly soft as back then despite the occasional roughness of your fingers from working so much. Your palms were always warm against his cold fingers during winter. 

“Viktor," you called him. And he frowned to conceal what he had been thinking all the damn night.

“What?”

 “Why don’t we strike a deal?” you said, arms crossed, disrupting what would have been his doom if he continued.

“Do I look like someone that would strike a deal with a devil, Miss Favred?” Viktor said, arching an eyebrow almost in a flirty way. Just amused enough to push you to the edge of your years-trained composure. You certainly played the part, with all the allure and the deep gaze of your eyes.

“I suppose this must be awkward for you, too.”

“It isn’t awkward for me,” he lied. “You should worry about your work instead.”

“So ready for me to leave?” You chuckled. “I think you should know that I applied to this contest because I need the spotless curriculum if I want to be the new Interior Design teacher at the Architecture Faculty.”

“You’re just trying to annoy me. You said you would leave and never return.” Better put, Viktor cornered you to say so, but he wasn’t going to let his mouth run free.

"And you said we were going to get married," you replied, and Viktor felt himself trip backward if it weren’t for the support of his cane. “So I guess we’re even.”

Viktor stood there, stunned golden eyes wide open. He started calling your name, but you had your hand raised.

“You’re right, my bad. That was unnecessary.” Your hand arranged a loose lock of hair poking your cheek. “Anyhow, I’m not going to mention anything about the… past. So you don’t have to worry about me running out my tongue—despite how close classmates we’ve been.”

“Now you’re just being…” improperly brash, dangerously cheeky. Almost as if you’d been pushing him over the edge of his decorum to see if he’d cornered you against a wall to seal your endless rebukes with a kiss. Or many. “…insufferable.”

"Don't worry." You waved away. "I'll finish my job as fast as humanely possible, and then we won't have to see each other again. Because I know you aren't fond of assisting the Progress Day's party."

He crossed his arms, letting the handle of his cane hook on the curve of his elbow. "I'm not sorry to disappoint you—but I'm very fond of Progress Days. I've changed," Viktor said, but it was only a half-truth. He wasn't sure how he could change a feeling that lay hidden deep inside, frozen in time instead of giving them a real burial. You only had to dig to start seeing the uneven silhouette of the memory boxes where nothing should be more than black earth.

“Anyway,” you replied, your tone bleeding with sarcasm. “That’s my peace treaty. I know Mel and Jayce will feel awkward if they ever discover that they’ve arranged old flames as partners, so let’s just forget it. I assure you it’s nothing that could endanger the quality of this project.”

Let’s just forget it. You were right, as you had always been, and yet…

I've already forgotten you, Viktor, you said inside his mind, a smile that once had left him breathless now hurting him in the unspoken truth that now you were better without him.

Of course, you were better without him.

Yet, Viktor couldn’t help but seek your left hand accommodating the deep V line of your dress for the poignant sight of a band on your finger.

“I’m not a passionate teenager, Miss Favred," he said, his tone devoid of any warmth. "I assure you I'm not interested in dwelling in the past. So rest assured, I won't embarrass you." It was totally unconscious that his voice dripped with contempt.

You curled your upper lip. “You’re such a fusspot, always the victim.”

Viktor inhaled sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you spat, taking your skirt with your fists as you were ready to stalk away.

The parallels made his heart squeeze in a painful grip. Was history about to repeat itself?

Before his brain could recollect the action, Viktor had called your name, hand extended open as if wanting to touch you. “Wait—” As if he had something to tell you.

You ignored him, stopping when Jayce approached you both from the complete opposite direction Mel and he had gone at first. Also, you couldn't point out if the dark marks of brown smeared on his face were just a plaything of the lightning or marks of kisses.

“Are you leaving so soon?” Jayce told you, hand over your shoulder.

“Yes,” you told him with a smile, completely ignoring Viktor. “My feet hurt and I’m afraid I haven’t recovered my sleep schedule since my return.”

"Well, maybe Viktor can walk you home?" he offered. "For what Mel told me, you live near his apartment." Not that he had moved a lot since you left, but seeing the surprise in your eyes felt like a little victory.

“No,” Viktor and you said at the same time.

“I mean—,” you started.

“I want to stay a little longer,” Viktor said. "As I should be open to enjoying these celebrations more. Hextech anniversary only arrives once a year!" He tried to laugh, but Jayce looked at him with such a concerned frown it was hard to keep his act. Your contained snort wasn't helping.

“Vik… I think you’ve had far too many drinks.”

He glared at Jayce for what felt like the thousandth time. "I'm fine, Jayce—”

"Well, goodbye!" you chirped, getting on your tippy toes to kiss Jayce's cheek, and then, forcefully, approach Viktor and give him a goodbye kiss, too. More like a rude smack, with how forceful you were.

"Tomorrow, eight sharp," Jayce told you, poking your side with his elbow. "Viktor doesn't like it when I arrive late."

“I can’t wait,” you beamed, eyes boring into Viktor’s. As if daring him to say something.

"Me either," Viktor lied.

If you wanna get into the taglist lemme a comment below! 🤗

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Undercover in a Skin Tight Skirt

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: The BAU Chief isn’t fond of sending his scantily clad wife in as bait 

Warnings: Misogyny, mentions of rape and murder, near sexual assault, suggestive language, provocative clothing, description of gore, alcohol, religious allusions

Work Count: 3.4k

Masterlist

“The unsub is hunting within what seems to be a pentagram,” Reid explained. “Each club creates a point on the star while the bars have already formed the circle.”

“What is he sacrificing virgins?” Garcia rhetorically asked over the phone. “I don’t know about you but night clubs and bars isn’t where I’d be hunting virgins.”

“Maybe he’s trying to point to the immortality of these types of places. You know alcohol, sex, drugs,” Emily suggested.

“So he’s kidnapping these girls and then he’s raping and murdering them to what? Punish them for their promiscuity?” Morgan suggested.

“Or he feels entitled to them,” I suggested. “Maybe he’s taking them because he believes in polygamy because he’s a man but isn’t receiving the female attention he feels he deserves?”

“Or he feels he deserves as certain woman. Given that every victim was between the ages of 20 and 30, had H/C hair, E/C eyes, and a S/T (skin tone) complexion,” my husband, Aaron suggested.

“Okay so we’ve got a religious man who feels entitled to women, shouldn’t be too hard to find,” JJ said sarcastically.

“Well we need to find him before he finds another girl tonight. If he follows his pattern we’ll have Phoebe Simpson,” the girl who was currently missing, “show up dead tomorrow.”

~

After some research from Garcia and more talking through the profile we found the unsub, Pastor Daryl Richardson. Now the team was just trying to figure out how to catch him since we knew we’d need to catch him in the act. Unfortunately everyone was dancing around me going undercover since no one wanted to suggest putting the boss’ wife in danger.

Finally I had had enough. “Why don’t I just go undercover? Everyone knows I perfectly match the unsub’s type.”

“Y/N,” my husband’s voice immediately warned, not happy about the suggestion.

“Why not?” the local sheriff asked. “Seems like a good plan to me.”

“Because this is an increasingly unstable and erratic unsub and I won’t put my wife in that kind of danger. We’ll figure out another way to catch him. End of discussion,” Hotch declared before storming off.

“Aaron,” I called after him, getting out of my seat to follow. “Aaron what the hell?” I asked once I caught up with him. “Even before I even got into the BAU we both agreed we wouldn’t let our personal lives interfere with a case. Now you’re letting our marriage get in the way of catching this unsub.”

“I am not making this personal,” Aaron insisted.

“Then why’d you say you wouldn’t let your wife do this?” I challenged. “Why didn’t you say my agent or team member?” Aaron was at a loss for words. He knew the ‘that’s not what I meant’ argument wouldn’t work on a profiler. “Look me in the eyes and honestly say you wouldn’t let JJ or Emily do this if they fit the unsub’s type.”

Aaron couldn’t lie to his wife. Truthfully he would be hesitant to allow this with any of his other agents but he wouldn’t forbid it the same way he did with his wife. “I can’t,” he admitted. “Fine you can go undercover but there will be cameras on you at all times, you’ll have a weapon, an agent or officer within ten feet of you, and your outfit won’t be too revealing,” he listed. I rolled my eyes at the final command but agreed nonetheless. Seeing my eye roll, Aaron switched to my lighthearted husband that I rarely saw at work. “What? I have to keep some things just for me.” I let out a laugh at that, heading back into our workspace as Aaron returned to the stoic BAU Chief.

“Agent L/N will be going undercover to be picked up by the unsub. Officers and agents will be stationed throughout the club keeping an eye out for Richardson and my agent. Agent L/N will also have a weapon on her in case of emergencies but there will be cameras on her at all times. When Agents Prentiss and Reid tell us to move over the comms we all move to apprehend the suspect. Is that clear?” Aaron command the room. He wasn’t going to allow any slip ups while his wife was the most vulnerable person in the room. “We’ll reconvene in an hour to give everyone their positions.” The officers all agreed, splitting off to get ready while the sheriff and the rest of your team began looking at the layout of the club.

“Y/N, do you have something you can wear that would attract the unsub’s attention?” Derek asked.

I thought for a second, considering what was usually in my go bag. “No it’s all t-shirts and business casual outfits.”

“There’s a mall just a mile up the road,” the sheriff offered.

“Reid, JJ, go with her to find something for tonight,” Hotch ordered.

“Why am I going shopping?” he protested.

“Because you have sense and will make sure whatever she wears isn’t too bad,” he explained, the slightest hint of a smile on his face.

So Spencer begrudgingly followed JJ and I to the Suburban, with me in the drivers seat. “Do you need something too?” I asked her.

“Probably, I don’t travel with a lot of mini skirts,” she joked.

“Can you believe Aaron actually said my outfit can’t be too revealing?” I asked with a scoff.

“Oh I believe it,” JJ laughed. “He sends death glares to every officer who looks at you a little too long.”

“He does not,” I dismissed.

“He does,” she insisted. “You seriously haven’t noticed?”

“No, have you Spence?” I asked, glancing at him through the rear view mirror.

“He does sometimes,” he agreed.

“Oh my god how did I never notice?” I wondered as I pulled into the mall parking lot.

~

After a few minutes I found a leather skirt and a bustier top. An outfit similar to the ones many of the girls were last seen wearing.

“What do you think?” I asked JJ, stepping out of the dressing room.

“You look great! Hotch is going to lose his mind when he sees you in this.”

“Yeah he definitely will. I’ll make it up to him,” I shrugged. Walking out into the public area I found Spencer in a seat, tapping away on his phone. “What do you think, Spence?”

He glanced up, his jaw dropping open. He had never seen me dress like this, usually I stuck to business casual or field gear. “Wow, you look…” he couldn’t even stutter out the words.

~

Later that night I was doing my makeup in my hotel room, having already gotten changed and done my hair. I heard the door unlock, alerting me to Aaron’s presence. “The cab is here,” he announced walking into the bathroom. Through the mirror I could see him freeze as he caught sight of me. “This is what you’re wearing?” he asked carefully. What he really wanted to say was that there was no way in hell he was ever letting another man lay his eyes on his wife like this.

“It’s similar to what most of the other girls were wearing,” I explained nonchalantly, standing to face him. His gaze immediately slipped down to my chest before settling on my face again. “I’ll make it worth your while tonight,” I promised, sliding my arms around the back of his neck.

Aaron pursed his lips, considering your prospect. “Fine,” he agreed. “C’mon, we need to get you and JJ in the cab.”

Once I got downstairs the team was waiting for me. Derek immediately wolf whistled. “Damn.”

“Wow, you’re really gonna let this happen, Hotch?” Rossi asked.

Aaron shrugged. “Nothing I can do about it now.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay in the field? We’re gonna have to let this get fairly far before we can give the order to grab him.”

“I’ll be okay,” he insisted. “I’m not letting her go into that club without me. We made vows to not let our personal lives interfere with our professional ones.”

~

JJ and I rode in the cab together acting like already tipsy friends. She almost immediately split off with one of the officers, leaving me at the bar alone. Everyone had a comm except for me, leaving me in the dark about where Richardson could be. The only protection I had as a tiny gun strapped to the inside of my thigh, just barely hidden by the skirt. It was the only place I could conceal it given the tight and revealing nature of my outfit.

It wasn’t long before the pastor slid into the seat next to me. “Can I top off your drink?” he asked, a southern accent detectable in his voice.

“Um sure,” I agreed shyly. “Thanks.”

“I’ve never seen you around here. And I’m sure I’d remember you,” he flirted, his hand already on my knee.

If I didn’t know what I knew about this man I’d honestly be charmed. He didn’t seem to hate women like we profiled but given his level of violence and dominance towards his victims I knew he was picturing all kinds of fucked up ways to torture me. “Oh I’m visiting a friend but she seems to have found a new friend for the night,” I nodded over to JJ who was still dancing with that officer.

“Well maybe I can be your new friend?” he suggested, his fingertips now grazing the hem of my skirt.

“I’d like that,” I smiled brightly, downing my drink before slipping off the stool, leading him to the dance floor.

We danced for a little while, letting him put his hands almost anywhere he wanted. I caught glimpses of my teammates but they were always gone in the blink of an eye and I was a little disappointed to not see Aaron. But nevertheless I let this guy grind on me for a few songs before he pulled me close to his body. “How about we go somewhere quieter? So we can get to know each other,” he suggested in my ear. I nodded eagerly, whirling around to take his hand.

He led me through a series of back doors and hallways. We went so far into the building I began to fear that the team would lose sight of me on the cameras.

Eventually we ended up in a back room. He held the door open for me, forcing me to enter first. “Finally, we can talk,” he said through a creepy smile, locking the door behind him.

My alarms were going off. I knew I was in serious danger now as I tried to back up a little. But he advanced quicker than I anticipated, dragging me onto the floor with him already straddling me. Surely this was enough evidence and my team would come to the rescue. “Get off of me,” I insisted, trying to push him away.

“Girls like you dressing like fucking sluts, just asking for it. You need a Man of God to show you how you should behave,” he said, pulling out duct tape which he began putting over my mouth. He began placing the tape on my arm when he froze. I was still struggling against his weight, all of my FBI training useless against this beast of a man as he put his full weight on me. He reached his hand underneath my skirt when his fingers met the metal of the gun. “What the hell is this?” he yelled angrily, ripping the gun out. He immediately pressed it to my temple. “What are you? A cop?”

“It’s just for protection!” I insisted. “Please I’ll do anything you want.” That was a genuine plea for my life. I had no clue if the team knew where I was or if they had even seen me leave.

“Take off your top,” he ordered angrily, pulling the gun away from my head but still pointing it at me.

“Okay, okay,” I agreed, my trembling hands immediately going to the fasteners of the top. Based on what we profiled this was a major deviation from his routine. But before the man got too frustrated by my genuine inability to undo the top I hear Derek’s scary voice.

“FBI!” he yelled before the door burst open. It all happened so fast Richardson didn’t even have time to react as the door swung open. Several agents and officers were immediately on top of him, pulling him off of me. The next thing I saw was my husband’s face. His rough palms were immediately holding my jaw asking me if I was okay, gently pulling off the duct tape.

“Y-yeah, I’m good,” I agreed, standing up on shaky legs with his help.

Reid and Prentiss ran in, Spencer already holding out his jacket for me. Hotch took it, wrapping it around my shoulders as he tucked my head under his arm as he led me outside. There were already news reporters eager to get a shot of the man that had been terrorizing the city but they became equally interested in “the lone survivor” being escorted under the FBI agent’s arm.

~

Back at the police station I had been given hot coffee and a blanket as Aaron sat beside me on the couch. “He didn’t… touch you, did he?”

“No, the furthest he got was reaching the gun,” I tried to shrug him off. I hated feeling like a victim. I’m an FBI agent who did the job I signed up for.

“He won’t talk,” Derek said, exiting the interrogation room. “We’re not going to be able to intimidate him.”

“Let me try,” I immediately suggested. “We profiled him as a narcissist. The fact that he didn’t get to hurt me will drive him insane. He won’t like that a woman has power over him either. Especially one dressed like this,” I said, gesturing to my outfit.

“No, absolutely not,” Aaron immediately disagreed. “Y/N you just went through a major trauma. He was a second away from raping you.” He was basically begging me to understand how afraid he was.

“He’s in cuffs, I’ll be fine. Aaron, this is the only chance we have if finding Phoebe Simpson alive.”

He sighed deeply. “Fine,” he relented. “But I’m in the room.”

“He won’t talk to me while you’re in the room, I have to be in there alone.” Aaron didn’t like it but he he knew I was right so he just nodded before following me towards the interrogation room.

As I entered the room I could immediately feel Richardson’s eyes rake down my body. “You know for a ‘Man of God’ you sure do have a habit of looking at girls like they’re pieces of meat.”

“It’s your job as a woman to fulfill me,” he shrugged, leaning back in his seat.

“Isn’t one of the Seven Deadly Sins lust, Pastor?”

“It’s not lust to look at what’s mine. God told me that you’re mine.”

“A little late for that,” I mocked, wiggling my ring finger to show off my wedding rings. “Married.”

“Your husband lets you dress like a slut for other men to see? This is why you needed me tonight to show you your place below men, satisfying men.”

“Well I know you’re unsatisfied. They’re already calling me the lone survivor,” I bragged, taking a seat finally. I crossed my arms under my chest, revealing even more cleavage.

Richardson’s eyes immediately went to my chest and stayed there. “What do you mean lone survivor? I haven’t done anything wrong. Except apparently showing you the consequences of your actions is against the law.”

“You know, we have profilers here. That’s how we caught you, they figured out that you kidnap, rape, and murder women to have control over them.”

“I do have control over them.”

“So you are the one that has been kidnapping and murdering these women.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are you just tried to do it to me.”

“No I’m not!” he yelled lunging across the table. I didn’t even flinch, knowing he was restrained, something I was proud of until I heard the door bang open.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Hotch storm up to Richardson, trying to intimidate him. “Hotch, it’s fine. He’s restrained,” I said, never taking my eyes off the unsub. He opened his mouth to protest but I cut him off. “Leave.” Closing his mouth again he complied, storming out of the room.

Outside every member of the BAU had their jaws dropped. Even if it was part of the plan they’d never talk to him the way Y/N just had. Hotch was fuming, not at his wife but at the man who was looking at her like a piece of meat.

“We already know you’re the one hurting these girls, tell us where Phoebe is and I’ll tell the prosecutor you were compliant.”

“What so my sentence gets reduced from five life sentences to four?” he spat.

Establishing my dominance wasn’t working anymore so I stood up. “Among other privileges in prison,” I coyly suggested, sitting on the table next to him. I was keenly aware of how high my skirt was riding right now.

Outside Hotch was screaming in his mind for his wife to not get within reach of the very dangerous man she was interrogating. The team nervously observed his angry expression.

“So tell us where Phoebe is and maybe I’ll make an appearance in your life again once or twice. I’d be so grateful.”

His hands were now straining against the cuffs to touch me but I was just out of reach. Unable to let the idea of sex with a woman he wanted to control go, he relented. “I brought all the girls to a friend’s farm.” With that I quickly hopped off the table, strutting out of the room. “Hey! What do I get?”

“Nothing, you get nothing,” I promised, exiting the room. “I’m coming with,” I said to the team already grabbing the bag of extra clothes and heading for a bathroom. I changed the fastest I ever had in my life and soon I was running out to the Suburban, my team and field gear already inside. Hopping in we took off as I strapped on my vest and boots.

“Never knew you were such a temptress,” Derek laughed.

“Men are so easy to manipulate when you take away what they want.”

We caught up with the rest of the SWAT team just as we pulled up to the farm. “We’ll take the house!” Aaron ordered and we followed him. Morgan kicked down the door and we were immediately confronted with the most putrid smell.

We went through clearing the rooms until I entered the bedroom. The smell became so strong I nearly gagged and I was horrified to see the already decomposing body of Phoebe Simpson. “We got a body in the bedroom,” I announced.

“Is is Simpson?” Rossi asked as he entered.

“Yeah,” I sighed dejectedly.

As Aaron came in he was horrified to see the state of the body. Aside from the decomposition she had been left in an abused state, cast aside like garbage. He became disgusted realizing that could’ve been Y/N. He knew she was safe, there was more law enforcement surrounding that nightclub than the White House but he still couldn’t help but think of the worst case scenario. He immediately reached for his wife, pulling her into his chest to assure himself she was there. Breathing in the scent of her hair as they exited the room.

Masterlist

Smutty follow up

[animasolaoriginal]

(9) I n n o c e n c e L o s t

He finds her in a brothel of all places. A chance encounter, but one that will change his life – and hers – forever. – or: A story about a cowboy who falls in love with a prostitute, who happens to be so much more than that.

GENERAL TAGS: NSFW! Explicit! Size difference, age gap, slow burn romance. Cowboys, outlaws, prostitutes. Historical inaccuracy. Horses, guns, violence.

Chapter 1▫️2▫️3▫️4▫️5▫️6▫️7▫️8▫️9▫️10▫️11▫️12▫️13 ...

Chapter 9: The Temptation

m!OC x f!OC -- WORDS: 4.4k -- READ ON AO3

when the mind wanders

Chapter 8 -- Chapter 10

Additional warning: explicit sexual content ahead! (The smut tag makes sense now!)

9

The constant sway of Thunder's strong steps through the plain have him quickly losing focus. With Nebbia pressed to his chest, wedged between his thighs, held securely in his arm, her feet bouncing slightly, her whole body rubbing against him with every up and down motion, Ben's mind starts to wander.

He sees her outside a small cabin, their cabin, deep in the woods, close to a lake, where she tends to the garden while he hunts or catches fish, where she hangs the sheets out to dry in the soft breeze, her long brown hair moving in the same flow, her skirt billowing around her. She has to stretch to reach the line he's spanned between the trees, balancing on her toes as she fixes the sheets to it with the wooden clothespins, her shirt riding up slightly, exposing just a sliver of soft, pale skin.

It's his shirt, he notices, the plaid one he's given her, so many moons ago. She's tied it around her waist, knotted in the front, the sleeves rolled up, just enough buttons undone to tease at the soft mounds beneath the warm fabric.

When she returns to the cabin, she finds him leaning by the window, watching her. There's a blush on her pale cheeks when she looks up at him. He doesn't hesitate when he grabs her waist and hoists her onto the kitchen counter effortlessly. A little yelp escapes her, then a laugh, her smile warm and happy when she extends her arms and pulls him closer, wrapping them around his neck, playing with his hair.

He obliges, indulges her, leans in and presses his mouth to hers. He can feel the warmth and wetness of her tongue when it moves between his lips, when it meets his, tastes him, licks him, makes his heart flutter, a sensual dance while he steps closer, caging her in, his hands running under her thighs to urge her to wrap her legs around him. She does.

She always does. He deepens the kiss, swallows her mewls when he moves his large hands around her legs and under her skirt to grab her rear, sinks his long fingers into her plump ass cheeks, kneads them, pulls them apart slightly, teases between them. She rubs her pelvis against him, and she must feel how hard he is for her.

He's always hard for her. It's almost a problem, if she wouldn't know how to help him with it. Her hands move expertly, down the back of his neck, fingernails scraping over his broad shoulders, snake around to the front, unbutton his shirt, all while her lips are glued to his, tongue sliding against his, accompanied by frantic little puffs right into his mouth.

When her tongue plunges deeper and he invites it with a gentle suck, her warm fingers scrape over his chest, down his toned abs, lower, lower. His belt clinks when she opens it, her delicate hands gliding down over the bulge, palming him, teasing him. One grips him through the fabric, the other slips into the thin opening between his warm skin and the waistband.

He groans against her, gripping her ass, groping it hard as she brushes her fingertips along his sensitive skin. Impatience makes him twitch, jerk his hips against her hands. She finally unbuttons his jeans completely, pushes it down enough to free his hard erection. He can only grunt into her mouth when she closes her small hands around his girth before she starts moving them up and down, in a twisting motion, how he's shown her, with just enough grip and strength, to make his stomach tighten up.

His hands slip upwards, sliding over her sides, over the front of her (his) shirt, palming at her small breasts, eager fingers playing with the buttons. He's tempted to just rip it open, but she'd be furious with him for destroying another shirt, telling him buttons are hard to come by.

A laugh rumbles through his throat as she keeps nibbling on his bottom lip, rubbing her chin against his beard, the scrape adding to the breathy little moans that tumble over her lips as he slips his big hands into her open shirt and cups her soft mounds, weighing them gently, kneading them carefully.

Her hard nipples press into his palms while she squirms on the kitchen counter, her legs tightening around his waist, feet digging into his lower back. He lets go of her breasts and moves lower, gathers her skirt and pushes it aside enough to expose her pink little pussy with the soft patch of hair right above. He breaks the kiss to look down at it, while she keeps planting soft kisses on his cheek and jaw and down his neck, still pumping his cock expertly in her small hands.

Her folds are glistening, she's so wet, he can tell, and when he tests the waters, literally, she mewls softly. His fingers slip into her slick, up and down, up and down, until he dips two of them into her tightness. She arches her back, tilts her neck back, moans softly at the stretch, and as he starts pumping his fingers in and out slowly, he finds her mouth again, plunging his tongue in, tasting her as breathless whimpers echo in his ears.

She's stopped stroking his cock, and he feels it throbbing in her hold, ready to feel more of her. Kissing her deeply, he keeps his digits buried deep in her cute little cunt, scissoring them, stretching her, massaging her soft insides, while his other hand gently pries her hands off his arousal before he grabs it and brings it closer to her heat.

A disappointed little huff of air escapes her when he pulls his fingers out, only to be replaced by a loud gasp when he presses the head of his cock against her entrance. It's taken her a long time to be able to take all of him, and he thinks fondly about the many times they've tried, endless nights and even longer days, holed up in bed, or on any other surface, each time an inch more, until he could finally bottom out inside her tight wet warmth.

She leans back on her arms, bracing herself as he moves his hips closer, closer, the tip plunges into her hole, sinks deeper, she moans softly, calls his name, and he gets lost in the feeling of being choked so deliciously. So tight... so warm...

“Ben...” Her walls clench around him, pulling him deeper. “Ben.” The heat is intoxicating, he can barely breathe. “Ben!”

His eyes fly open, and he blinks in confusion, squinting at the bright sun, breathing heavily, trying to focus through the haze inside his mind. His stomach is tight and the strain on his jeans is almost unbearable. And against that very obvious bulge presses a cute little butt, clad in a brown riding skirt, tied in the waist, where his hand rests, big and heavy on her flat stomach. He swallows dryly as his gaze wanders higher until he meets Nebbia's bright green eyes.

Something warm creeps up his neck. “Huh?”

A shy smile curls her lips. “Are you okay?” she asks softly, watching him closely, a little too closely for his taste.

It takes him a long moment to realize he's sitting on Thunder's back, under the blazing sun, and an even longer moment that they're no longer moving. The horse's long neck is bent downwards, and he seems to graze peacefully.

“I think you fell asleep,” she whispers, shifting slightly against him. “Glad you didn't fall off...”

“M'sorry,” he growls, rubbing his face with his free hand. “Just a little... daydream, I guess...”

“I think you might have a sunstroke,” she says, tilting her head. “Should have thought to bring a hat after all, eh?” Her teasing tone makes his lips twitch.

He puts his hand on top of her head, feeling her warm soft hair, ruffles it playfully. She tries to squirm away with a soft laugh. Inhaling deeply, he lets go of her completely and pushes both hands through his messy hair, groaning quietly. “Why aren't we moving anymore?” he mumbles.

“Thunder must have felt that you weren't... really with us anymore, so he slowed down on his own and decided to have a little snack,” she explains, turning slightly back to weave her fingers through the horse's long mane.

Ben takes another deep breath and looks around, still trying to fight the remnants of that delicious daydream. Another grunt escapes him. Focus! The horse decided to stop near a little meadow off the path, and he can hear a creek bubbling close-by. When he looks back, however, there's more than a little sunburn prickling on his neck.

They haven't come far. Too close to town still, they shouldn't stay here. But he could use a break, a quiet moment behind a tree maybe... Rubbing his face once more for good measure, he then leans around Nebbia, grabs the horn and hoists himself off Thunder's large back, his boots thudding quietly in the soft grass beneath.

Without waiting, he grabs the girl's waist and pulls her off as well, gently putting her down in front of him. “Let's take five,” he says in a deep growl, already moving past her towards the tree line and the creek. “Stay close to Thunder,” he calls to her, shoving one hand into his pocket to adjust himself.

Goddamn daydream...

He doesn't follow through on his first instinct to relieve the ache with his right hand, instead he walks right into the creek, boots and all, crouches down and splashes the cold water into his heated face. It helps a little. But the guilt burns on. Imagining these things with her, so detailed, so real, it's wrong. He shouldn't be thinking this, not yet, not until he is sure that he's not her –

Another splash into his face. Not. Splash. Her. Splash. Father.

An angry grunt escapes him as he gets up and kicks his boot through the water, scaring away some critters. Fuck. Rubbing his wet face, pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes as he groans a little more. What was he thinking, taking her away? Nothing, that's the problem, he didn't think a single thought. It was all instinct, as usual.

The same instinct that almost got him hanged.

Inhaling deeply, he pushes one hand through his hair, then lowers it and rolls his shoulders. A few more deep breaths through his nose, and he is walking back to her and the giant horse. She's feeding him tufts of grass, watching the animal with a loving gaze, patting his large head. Innocent. So fucking innocent.

Slowly, she turns her head towards him, frowning when she sees him – and the state he's in. “Did you fall into the creek?” she asks, a smirk playing around her lips.

He looks down at himself, shirt wet, boots and jeans wet, hair ruffled, water droplets still rolling down his temples. He only huffs a groan and walks up to Thunder, slipping his hand underneath the saddle. They should take a longer break soon, the poor animal's been carrying them and the heavy saddle for too long now. The brutal sun on his shiny black coat isn't helping.

But they have to get away a little further. Too close to town.

With his mind still spinning a little, battling dreams and memories and future scenarios, he puts his boot into the stirrup and hoists himself up the horse's back, settling into the seat once more. Nebbia stares up at him, surprised. And she should be, he usually puts her on first.

“Sorry,” he mumbles and holds out his hand to her. “Still a little fuzzy in the head,” he says with a tired smirk. She walks towards him, one hand on Thunder's neck, the other about to grab his fingers.

Suddenly he hears hooves in the distance. Dropping his hand, he turns around, instinctively grabbing the reins to make Thunder move. Nebbia steps away with a little yelp as the large animal bows his long neck and snorts loudly at the sudden command. Ben's eyes scan the horizon. The shapes of riders approach, three, no, four. Squinting at them, he can feel his skin prickling.

The West is vast, and meeting other riders in the middle of nowhere is never a good omen, no matter their intentions. He has to be careful. Especially now. Because of her. He pries his eyes from the fast approaching horses and the men on top of them, holding out his hand to Nebbia again.

“Come on,” he urges, looking down at her. Her eyes are wide, fearful, her lips trembling. She grabs his wrist, he grabs her arm, pulling her towards him.

The sound of hooves comes closer, his heart is racing. He leans down more, his other hand extending. The angle is awkward, he hooks his hand under her arm, grips at the fabric of her blouse, pulls her up.

She clambers forward, small hands gripping at his shoulders, and somehow she ends up facing him, her knees bent and pressing against his stomach, her skirt bunched up between them, the pointy tips of her boots tucked under his thigh. But there's no time.

“Hold on,” he says, wrapping one arm around her back, pulling her against him as she presses her chest into his, arms tight around his neck while she looks over his shoulder.

“Ben!” she gasps, but he doesn't have to see what she sees, he can hear them, circling around them. He tugs at the reins, presses his spurs into Thunder's stomach, urges him on. The large horse neighs in protest, but moves, turns in a half-circle, then falls into faster steps, away from whoever is catching up to them.

“Hey!” a deep voice calls from behind them. “We just wanna talk!”

Ben grunts, pushing Thunder forwards, tightening his grip around the girl on his lap. The horse dashes along the tree line, close to the creek, right beneath the low hanging branches. He ducks his head, putting his hand on Nebbia's to shield her as well. She grips at him, curling into a ball on his thighs.

He's white-knuckling the reins, maneuvering his steed into the forest as the hooves behind him become louder. “How many?” he grunts, then feels how Nebbia emerges from her cowered position and looks over his shoulder again.

“Three,” she breathes.

Where's the fourth? He looks around, ducking from another branch. Thunder's heavy hooves stomp along the soft forest floor, tip-tapping urgently as he tries to move him around the tree trunks. Bad idea to bring a large horse into a dense forest. But he didn't have a choice.

Low hanging branches grip at his shoulders, his arms, scrape over his head. He holds Nebbia tight against him, shielding her, her rapid breaths hitting his collarbone, her fingers digging into the back of his neck, causing shivers to rush down his spine, straight into –

Ugh. Not the time.

The noises behind him are quieter now, and he dares a look over his shoulder. They've fallen back. He looks ahead again, clenching his jaw. They're circling around. He pulls on the reins hard, making Thunder whinny angrily. With another tug and a sharp poke into his side, he makes the horse turn around, not the way they came, but further into the forest.

His heart is so loud in his ears, it's hard to focus on the surrounding noises. Nebbia's panicked little breaths aren't helping either. “It's okay,” he whispers, pressing her against him, large hand splayed on her back, fingers curling slightly around her small body. “Don't worry, we'll get away.”

She swallows hard, a little gulping sound against his shoulder. “What do they want?” she asks quietly.

Her, is his first response, but then he wonders why. Why here. Those men didn't look like they belonged to the Daniels family, he would have known. He'd recognize those bastards a mile away. No, those were different men, normal men too, not the law, no Pinkertons, so what do they want from her?

“I'd rather not find out,” he replies, spurring Thunder on more as the trees stand gradually further apart, opening up to a meadow beyond. Holding her in his arm, he leans in a little, grabbing the horn behind her, when the horse falls into a steady canter, the wind rushing in his ears.

He stays close to the edge of the forest, eyes scanning his surroundings. Are they gone? That easy? He slows Thunder and straightens up, turning more to look behind him, listening. Only the birds, the horse's loud snorts, Nebbia's breaths, his own heart. He's about to calm down, loosen his grip around her, but then he sees it.

Movement in the corner of his eye. To their left. He whips his head around, stares into the forest. The rider approaches slowly, stupidly confident, close enough that he can see the sneer on his face. Unfamiliar. Ben tugs on the reins, spurs pressed into Thunder's stomach. The horse neighs loudly, whips his head up, snorts, follows the curve of Ben's arm and turns right.

“Wait!” the man calls after him. “I don't mean any harm!”

Ben looks back at him, sees him raising his hands in a surrendering motion. “What do you want?” he shouts over the noise of his thundering heart, holding Nebbia closer to him. The curious thing turns her head slightly, looks back to the stranger. The hand on her back itches, inches closer to her hip, to his hip, to the gun in the holster.

“Just a look,” the other man drawls, chewing on the stump of a cigar, as his beady eyes wander over the sight in front of him.

The girl on his lap stiffens, grips his neck tighter, gasps, but doesn't look away. Ben stares at the rider. Well-fed horse, wealthy, not the typical cowboy look. A lot of blacks and reds, expensive looking clothes. His age or older. A fedora on dark hair, a clean shaven face.

“Why are you so skittish?” he continues, eyes fixed on Nebbia. “No need to run away from us...”

“I don't trust strangers,” Ben replies darkly, feeling his skin crawl by the way the man watches the girl. “And I don't like being followed, mister,” he adds, tugging gently on the reins, turning Thunder more, ready to bolt again. His hand rests on his gun now, ready to pull and shoot the bastard.

“My apologies, sir,” the other man says slowly. “We were just curious... haven't seen such a beauty in a long while, you know?”

Clenching his jaw, he feels shivers rushing down his spine, more so when Nebbia leans closer against him, holding onto him tightly. “Awful lot of hassle to take a look at a girl...” he grunts, fingers closing around the cold metal of his pistol.

The stranger leans back in his saddle, hands folded over the horn of it, a lopsided grin on his face. “Anything for one of Roberto's,” he says, his dark eyes wandering up to meet Ben's.

He frowns, something hot and heavy sinking into his guts. His mind is spinning. Fuck. It takes him three seconds, while his heart skips a beat, his hand moves back around Nebbia, his heels sink into Thunder's stomach, and then with a tug to the reins, he moves the horse along, spurring him on with a loud call. The animal snorts, neighs loudly, but follows the command instantly, turning and bringing his massive body quickly into motion.

He doesn't look back, but Nebbia does, as they gallop over the meadow, away from the stranger. “He's not following us,” she gasps against him, fingernails digging into his skin as she holds onto him frantically.

Ben only grunts, unsure if that's a good thing or not.

And as they dash away at breakneck speed, Ben's head is hurting from the sudden onslaught of memories. Faces, names, words, threats, cries and shouts and noises, tumbling over each other. Roberto. Roberto... The Daniels don't own the brothel, they're just henchmen, working for somebody else. There are always more layers.

He's been so fucking stupid!

With a sudden grunt, he pulls at the reins, forcing Thunder to turn right. The mystery deepens. He has to know. He has to know! They have to go back. He needs answers.

Nebbia clings to him, her soft but slightly panicked breaths warm against his collarbone. They reach another patch of forest, and he slows Thunder a little, ducking his head when they dash between the trees. His heart races, the horse snorts loudly, he's white-knuckling the reins. Left and right around the thick tree trunks, ducking under low hanging branches, a little jump over obstacles in the path, he's hectic, and they're not even being followed anymore.

Inhaling sharply he stops the horse abruptly. Thunder whinnies angrily, whipping his head up and down, stomping his hooves. Ben closes both arms around Nebbia and just holds her, feels her warmth, hears her surprised little gasps, the tension of her small body, breathes her in, relaxes.

“We have to go back,” he mutters into her soft hair. “I need to talk to your Madam Claire.” The plan is there, she must hold the answers he needs. (Was Keira already pregnant when she got there? If not, who knocked her up? Was it... who Ben fears it was?) But the way is long, and it's completely foolish to return, now that he knows who's really after her. But he needs to know.

“Why?” she whispers against him, moving her hands down his chest before she gives the gentlest of pushes to make him lean back. Their eyes meet, his hands slip to her waist, holding her firmly.

“I have to know, Nebbia,” he says quietly, licking his dry lips. “Have to make sure...” He must not make any sense to her, but she doesn't press, just stares at him with those big, confused eyes that glisten slightly, glowing in the sunlight breaching through the canopy above them.

“Who's Roberto?” she asks after a long moment of just looking at him.

“A very bad man,” he replies. “Pulls a lot of strings around here, his reach is far... I had no idea he'd be interested in a small town brothel... in you...”

The frown on her soft face is almost comical, definitely adorable, and he's tempted to grab her and shower her with kisses. But he inhales deeply instead, rolling his shoulders, swallowing the urge. “You're not bringing me back, are you?” she whispers, chewing on her lip.

His eyebrows almost meet his hairline. “No! Of course not, you won't step another foot in that establishment!” He tightens the grip on her waist, tilting his head. “I'll take you somewhere safe, I promise, then I'll ask your Madam some questions, and will be back with you in no time.”

Her fingers fidget with the buttons of his shirt as she listens, her gaze lowered, jaw working slightly. “What if... what if the answers are not... what you want to hear?” she asks barely audible.

Now his hands are on her cheeks, his thumbs pushing her chin up until she looks at him. “It doesn't matter, remember?” he says softly, leaning slightly closer. “Whatever the answer, it won't change anything. I promised you a better life, I swore to protect you, and I will, no matter the outcome. I just need to know...” It will change a lot, but not the way he'll always be there for her. He'll just have to learn to suppress his urges, control his fucking daydreams...

She licks her lips, he stares at the movement of her tongue, his stomach tightens. Her hands move up his chest, warm, scorching hot through the fabric of his shirt, until he feels her fingertips on his jaw, the scrape of his beard under her soft skin loud in his ears. “It doesn't matter,” she repeats in a breathy whisper as she leans up on her knees, brings her face closer to his, her hands snaking around his head, digging into his hair. “Right?”

He holds his breath, body tense against her. The fucking temptations! Her small fingers press into his scalp, her hot breath ghosts his lips. Her big eyes are full of expectations, desire, need. The exhale he issues through his nose rivals one of Thunder's snorts. Seconds later his mouth has captured hers, his hands pulling her closer, one behind her head, one on her lower back, her body molding into his.

She gasps against him, her small warm wet tongue quickly finding his, the moment heated and desperate, the dance wild and raw. Everything that happened earlier sinks into the kiss, his daydream, the chase, the revelations. And he just feels her, her heat, her body squirming into his, knees pushing between his thighs, just the right pressure. A groan escapes him, a touch like an electric shock.

And as quick and eager as it has started, as harsh and fast it ends, when his hands push down to her upper arms, grab her and lean her back again. She stares up at him, lips parted, trembling, red, rapid little breaths, her eyes big and confused, her cheeks flushed. He presses his own tingling lips into a thin line, tries to ignore the throbbing in his groin, the need burning through his stomach. Instead he focuses on lifting her up, uncurling her legs from his lap, and turns her around until she's sitting with her back to him, legs sideways, tucked between his thighs, but no longer as close, no longer as tempting.

He breathes deeply, leans down and presses his lips to her cheek. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he mumbles. “We need to keep going...”

She sighs, body slumping slightly, her small hands closing around the horn of the saddle as she settles in. He leans both arms around her and grabs the reins, gently spurring Thunder on to start moving again. The pace is much calmer as he maneuvers him through the forest, forcing himself to look around, take in his surroundings, look out for dangers, possible followers.

It's eerily quiet around them. But he can't relax, his mind still racing. They're after her, after them. One of Roberto's. Roberto... Roberto fucking DeLuca. This has gotten a lot more complicated all of a sudden.

Chapter 8 -- Chapter 10

End notes: I gotta say, this was my favorite chapter to write thus far, and one I'm particularly proud of. That daydream, finally some smut, and how Ben deals with it, then the chase, I love me some action sequences, I hope I got it across as I intended, hectic, fast, thrilling, unexpected. And the plot is finally going places, at least a little more specifically. Back to where it all began...

Credits to the respective owners of those pictures. I don't own anything. I gathered these from all around tumblr. If you see your picture and would like to have it removed, please tell me!

Thanks for reading! Next chapter on Friday!

AO3 -- MASTERLIST -- INSPIRATION POSTS

[blue-and-grey-army]

- - C A R A M E L - - 5

5. Cookies and Americano pt2

Genre: BTS, Idol AU, poly au, BTS x reader, OT7, OT7 x reader, Idol BTS, Dom BTS, sub reader, angst, fluff, eventual smut

Warnings: BTS x reader, very subby reader, innocent reader, power play, eventual smut, sexual and non sexual domination, a lot of skinship (but like lots) excessive pet names, sexism, anxiety, insecurities, possessive behavior, maybe BTS x BTS etc, MC gets a bit to hazy..

…

You freeze in your tracks and your eyes open wide. Oppa? Isn’t that term supposed to be for family and close people? Did that mean you two were close? How close? And why? You have known each other for way less than a month, and yet here you are, resting on a couch, with your arms around his neck and one of the most famous singers in the world nuzzling against your skin. Your head started to spiral, but a particular hard bite on your collarbone drew your attention back to him.

“Am I boring you, kitten?” Yoongi scolded, but his tone was relaxed and his words went out with a chuckle, lifting his head so he could look at your eyes.”I don’t want to share your attention…even with your own mind, I want all your focus on me, can you manage that, pretty one?” You are about to nod your head, but you stop yourself when you remember his words from earlier.

“Yes Oppa…I-I can do that” your voice quavers, but your wish for him not to stop is bigger. He smiles, bringing both hand to cup your cheeks and get you closer, to the point your forehead were touching.

“I knew you could, baby…such a good girl” and he moves forward.

He kissed you.

Your breath hitched for a second until you felt his lips barely brush the corner of your lip and rest on your cheek. It was perfectly measured so he wouldn’t touch your lips, but just tease you. And he knew he had gotten what he wanted when he noticed that those lips, he wanted to kiss so badly, were parted. Your breathing was heavy and your cheeks were hot and red. He was satisfied with his handy work until he noticed the way your leg was shaking, and not in a good way. Yoongi sighed, understanding what it meant, and he held your cheeks a little firmer.

“Hey, pretty girl? You with me?” His voice dropped both in tone and in volume and your glazy eyes encountered his. “Did I do something that made you upset? Did I overstep?” His voice was still firm but you could feel the worry in it. You could tell how concerned he was about you not being comfortable about his approach.

“No! N-no, no, i-its not that…” you were making your biggest effort to speak, resting your hands on his forearms so you could have something to grab onto and that kept contact with him. “I just…I guess I kinda felt…I-it was just…too much, a bit too much, and t-too quickly and I…” you tried to explain, but your words were getting tangled in your hazy like space and your nervousness.

You knew that when he kissed you, even though it was not on your lips but close enough, something changed in you. Your comfortable state went away and you felt your eyes burning just the way they do before filling with tears. And you don’t understand why! He didn’t do anything wrong! You were liking it…a lot actually. The way his touch felt so nice, how both his voice and actions were completely guiding you through everything, and taking control from you in a way that you felt safe and cared for. Everyone talked about his eyes often, how they were cat-like and he scrutinized everyone with his death stares, but you couldn’t agree. His eyes were soft and caring, adoring even. You kinda thought that Yoongi may even want the same, for you to trust him enough to relax and let him take the lead for you. You just felt warm, all through.

But somewhere in your head your couldn’t forget who he was, what could happen if you made him angry, if you made a false move. And it made you anxious. You had a hard time telling if you wanted to please him because you really felt good with him (and the others) or you were convincing yourself so you could keep this job. Your rent wasn’t cheap, and even though you did grocery’s and used services less than you were supposed to, you couldn’t afford being fired. The anxiety caught up to you when you felt his lips on your skin and you tensed, hoping he wouldn’t realize. But of course he did.

“Hmm…” he hums, using his thumbs to rub gently on your warm cheekbones “Did I make you overwhelmed, Kitten?” He whispers and you start to stutter, trying to explain yourself, he stops you “it’s not wrong or bad to feel overwhelmed, sweetheart. I just want you to tell me to know how you are feeling. That’s what’s important” he moves his hand to bop at your nose, but he stops himself “is it alright if I keep touching you now or you think you would like some time off?”

He tries to takes his hands off your cheeks before you can answer, but you hold onto his wrists for dear life, pushing them softly so they go back to your face. Yoongi releases a barely there sigh of relief, and moves his hands so he is cupping your cheeks and your jaw. You use your own to hold onto his fingers, rubbing on his knuckles since it’s grounding to you. You nuzzle against his warm hands, avoiding his eyes from your shyness. “I-I…I don’t want you to stop touching me, Oppa”

Yoongi stops his own mind before it can start to wander to dirtier places. He can see you are sensitive, not only physically but also emotionally. Your headspace was kinda easy to trigger, or maybe it’s because their guiding hands had a bigger impact on you, but it was there. So they had to be extra careful with you if they wanted you around. He wanted to take care of you so badly he felt like he was losing his mind. But he knew it may take sometime, specially if they all wanted you in their rooms, if you even accepted that.

“Alright, pet, then I won’t stop” he showed you his famous gummy smile, and before you could realize he scooped you up and sat on the couch, with you on his lap.

You gasped, startled from his sudden movement, but you relaxed as soon as you felt his hand tangle in your hair, starting to play with it softly. Your skin breaks out in goosebumps when his fingers get closer or you naps and a chill goes down your spine, making him chuckle from how sensitive you were and how easy it was to make you react.

“Is this alright, kitten?” he asks, tapping at your chin so you would put your eyes on him. You remembered your first encounter with him and what he told you a few minutes ago about how he wanted you to answer, so you used your words, wanting for him to tell you how good you were. “I’m relieved you are feeling better, pretty kitten…could you tell me why you started to feel overwhelmed? Where you not liking it?” Hd continued to play with your hair, his other hand caressing your face continuously.

“No…I actually liked it a lot…” you feel your cheeks burn heavily from your statement, doing your best to put your shyness away, and his smirk seemed to show he was pleased. “I just wasn’t expecting it…The kiss I mean! I-it’s new to me! I’m not used to such things and it just…surprised me”

Yoongi rested his chin on your shoulder, humming in agreement but also nosing the column of your neck, enjoying the path of goosebumps he left behind and the small shine that you left out. “Then we should get you used to it, don’t you think, Kitten? We want you happy and cared for, would you like that?”

You think it through a couple seconds. It’s not an explicit offer, but you understand to some point what it’s behind it. And you like the idea, so you nodded your head as well as a verbal response, and he caressed your lower lip with his thumb, sweetly.

“Good girl, so nice and sweet for her Oppa…” you can’t help but whine form how fuzzy and warm his words make you feel, a knot in your lower belly tightening and Yoongi can feel how your clench your thighs slightly. “Hmm, you feeling fuzzy kitten?” You nod your head softly, with a small pout on your lips that he fakes the gesture of biting, and you giggle a bit. “Yeah? Well, then take whatever you need from me kitten, whatever makes you feel steady and grounded…”

You don’t hesitate for too long, choosing to just rest your head on his collarbone and nuzzle his neck, drowning deeper into his scent and his warm skin.

“Yeah, that’s it, kitten…so good at listening, such a perfect little pet…”

______

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I had to give Yoongi a part 2!!

[paymechildsupport]

YAN!Suguru Geto // x Reader [Vindication]

-!! Yandere!Vindictive!Geto x Yandere!Reader (two yanderes in love <3 )

-!! CW: Themes of death, suicide, murder, obsession

Storyline takes place a few months after Riko’s death, in the middle of Geto’s descent into immense depression and prior to him leaving jujutsu tech. Instead of investing his time to become a murderous cult leader, Geto pours everything into academics, and against you. He would do anything to make sure you didn’t leave him too. 

-!! The alternation between Geto and Suguru is intentional.

-!! Gender never specified

You were his academic rival. You’d both do anything to maintain that thrill of competition, anything…

…

Could they get any more annoying..?

Could they get even more unbearable..?

Could they just shut up for once..?

Goddamnit,

They were so…

Infuriating.

The mere idea of them being happy,

Of them being even remotely okay

Of air reaching their lungs 

Of their bones all perfectly intact

Of their mere  e x i s t e n c e, 

It made you want to throw up. 

Why couldn’t they just… go away?

It would make your life so, so much easier. 

It would make you so, so happy.

If…. They….. could… just…. Cease… to… E̴̠̟̾̈́ẍ̶̡̢̻̱̠̜́̒̀̉̿͝i̴͓͇̓͐͆͘͘ş̶͙͚̞̪̽͛̋͜ͅt̵͓̲̟̪̹̊͒̉̈̏̑

-

-

-

“Is everything okay?” You’re snapped back to the present immediately. You struggled to remember where you were or what you were doing.

You look up to find the words come from Suguru Geto’s mouth. He’s standing over where you slouch in your seat, looking down with a hint of condemnation and… smugness? Fucking bastard.

“Eh..? Where- where is..” 

“You’re in the library” Ah, that’s right.

“Oh! Ehe, of course I am. Geez- ah… Oh! Yeah, uh,  I’m okay. Its all good” 

Geto raises a brow in question, not buying it

“You’ve just been staring out into space for the past seven minutes. And-“ he points, “You just broke your pencil” 

You look at where he was staring at to see your pencil, indeed, snapped in your hand. You were still gripping it, hard. Very hard. 

You don’t even know how you’re still surprised at the sheer power that your hatred has over you. It’s quite scary sometimes. 

“Yes.. everything’s fine, honestly. I’m just tired is all..” 

“The library closed awhile ago” He deadpans. So matter of fact.

“Ah- wait, what? Then why are you still here-?” 

“Satoru and Shoko have already left. I said I’d stay. The librarians were too hesitant to approach you.”A corner of his mouth quirks up, “you’re very intimidating when you’re frustrated.”

You were silent, just now taking in the darkness of the library. Almost all the lights were out- albeit a few lamps in the corners- and you were the only ones still in the building. It was getting very late and the streetlights outside illuminated the dark streets. Under other circumstances it could be considered peaceful even. 

You sigh, looking down. You can see the eyebags under Geto’s eyes, engraved into his features for the past few months. You’d only ever seen that look in the mirror. The similarity unnerved you, and you didn’t know how to feel about it. You felt proud, partly,-- it showed how much he expended just to compete with you, to rake himself up somewhere remotely close to your level, and then some. You reminisce, remembering the Geto a few months ago, prior Star Plasma, prior to Riko, prior to the empty husk in front of you

“Is something the matter?” His voice takes a drastic switch, softening to a wispy tone. You start to shake, “Is someone the matter?”

“…”

You knew it was dangerous. Suguru Geto wasn’t who you remembered, – he was unstable, unpredictable. You of all people should know, you’ve been subjected to a front row seat to his descent into despair. He was apathetic, borderline violent sometimes. Ever since the murder of Star Plasma vessel, Riko Amanai, Geto unknowingly latched himself onto everyone close enough, determined to make sure they never suffer the same fate, – and that included you, his rival. 

It was rather humorous, really. The lengths you two would now go to to keep your little game going. You were so invested, so enthralled into beating and dominating him in absolutely every way possible. You were intoxicated by the idea of winning, so drunk off of the thrill that came with competing. You sometimes wonder where you would draw the line.

Suguru was so into your little games that oftentimes you wonder if he really does enjoy to be beaten. To be made lesser of, to be belittled, to be degraded, to be beaten and dominated in every way possible. Obsession would be the only word to describe it. The boy was obsessed. Obsessed with competing. Obsessed with your antics. Obsessed with you. You would often question how far he’d go just for the sake of your little contest. 

“Would you kill someone for me?” The words fall from your lips before you can think as you lift your head up. 

“Yes”. He doesn’t hesitate. 

“…”

“I would kill anyone without a second thought, should you request it”

You can’t stop,

“…If there was someone I hated more than anything in the world… someone I couldn’t stand… someone who’s mere presence makes me want to break something…. Someone who I cannot stand the thought of them breathing… someone who just thinking of them makes me… makes me wanna…” You trail off.

“My only regret,” he says quietly, “was that it wasn’t me who had affected you in such a way” 

You smile bitterly, looking out the window.

“Who hurt you” His words were soft, but his tone dripped with venom. 

“… They didn’t necessarily hurt me directly… They just-….  I just…- “ You take a deep breath,   “the things they do and say to others concerning me and people I care about are… questionable, to say the least.”

“Yet they did end up affecting you nonetheless, correct?”

“Well, yes”

“So then they did hurt you”

“You could put it that way, yes”

Geto’s eyes flash,

“What is their name?”

“…”

“Tell me their name.”

“…” Such a vindictive sense of justice. 

His smile is laced with dynamite. 

“Tell me their name and I’ll make sure no words will ever be allowed to leave their mouth again”

Still, you remain silent. You didn’t want Geto to get his hands dirty doing something you should have been able to do. You shake your head. 

He sighs, his face softening. He bends down on one knee to meet your eye level whilst sitting down.

“Darling,” He’s so, so very gentle. “It will be alright. All this will be over, soon. Just let me do this for you. Let me get rid of one more disgusting person. Just let me…” You can feel yourself coming undone. “Let me do what I do best. I would never offer unless it was you” Your breathing heavily now, shaking violently from head to toe. 

He was going to protect you–

He leans down to your ear and whispers the final bit like a caress, “Just give me their name”

And you do.

–no matter what.

You tell him their name. 

And just like that, he smiles, gets up, and exits the library, closing the door softly behind him. 

.

The next morning they’re all over the news. 

A true tragedy, or so that’s what it appeared to be. 

You say nothing as the police describe in morbid detail the mangled and shredded body that had appeared to have jumped off the roof of the school. Your school.

 It was much too graphic to show, the police said. But it was by far one of the most horrendous deaths they had ever witnessed. The poor man looked sick to his stomach merely recounting the memory. 

Mawed and dismantled…

And although you felt as if you should have been happy, that you should have at least cracked a small smile, you simply couldn’t. 

This was only one. 

One death.

One person you hated, gone.

You still had more.

Much, much more.

A whole list in fact.

You wondered what would happen if Geto ever found out about the list you kept in the bottom drawer of your nightstand.

…

Maybe another day, you think.

Maybe another day.

~

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(Heavily edited from a older piece)

I lo-lo-lo-lo-LOooooove Suguru he's such a bbg malewife :3

[necroixe]

Js realized I never posted this guy but I have ocs other than Nico I swear lmaoo

This is Noah, formerly known as Micah Vance before he got fucked over by slender man as they all do and ws hit with a healthy dose of cloud strife style retrograde amnesia + identity theft.

Full character file and details under the cut! Be warned– it’s LONG:

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‘ ‘ did you say something, what’d you say?... ‘ ‘

‘ ‘ was that your voice, or was that me? ‘ ‘

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

N A M E

Noah Rivers

A L I A S

The ghost

A G E

22

G E N D E R

Male, he/him

S E X

Male

Noah is a human operator proxy.

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"I've never been fucking scared of you," He snapped, and Noah grabbed his jaw.

"I've always hated that."

"What?"

"How often you lie through your fucking teeth."

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A P P E A R A N C E

The most notable thing about Noah is his mask. It's drawn over crudely with charcoal, smudged all over, black around the eyes, the nose, the mouth. But the features are visible. The nose is sharp and angular, and the lips are drawn in a thin line. He wears it so often it's more like his face than his actual face. The only time he takes it off is when he's asleep, and sometimes not even then. His actual face, the one under the mask, has a scar that drags from above his right eyebrow down across his nose to his left jawline. His face is slim, angular, edges hazy against a monochromatic color scheme. The structure of his face is proportionate but it’s usually frowning, brows furrowed, mouth cut into a scowl. His features look like they were cut from alabaster or marble. Would’ve been pretty, maybe, in another universe. His eyes should've been black, but one of them is blinded, grayed over, and the other seems perpetually suited for low light. They are upturned, half lidded at a default and followed by bags, lines, and dark circles. They look bruised or dusky in color. He's bad with bright lights. He has black hair, cut choppy and messy, like he did it himself. His skin is so pale it's almost a sort of gray, the kind that suggests he doesn't see sun often. Lips chapped and dry, always cracked and bleeding, same with his hands, long black nails he likes painting for a reason he can't fully explain. They make his already slender fingers appear longer than they are. Almost clawlike. Noah is thin. He's tall, taller than he remembers, standing at 5’11”. He's built like an alley cat, all sinew and muscle, sharp shoulders, sharp bones. Scars all over his body. Some are new, from fights, other's he's had before he can remember in odd, purposeful places.

V O I C E

Baritone

Rough, and unused. When speaking his voice is barely above a whisper. He’s one of those people with a voice so low you have to lean in to listen. There’s an edge to his tone, a slight southern drawl. Sometimes the things he says sound more like they’re coming from a machine than a person. His voice is muffled when it’s under the mask, he compensates by being slightly louder.

S C E N T

His scent isn’t something that’s easy to pinpoint. It’s almost sterile, but not hospital sterile. He kind of smells like the woods.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

‘ ‘ how many times did i tell you

before it finally got through? ‘ ‘

‘ ‘ you lose. ‘ ‘

‘ ‘ you lose. ‘ ‘

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C O M B A T

Noah has heightened strength and speed, but he’s still human. A human that ignores the capabilities of his own body, but human nonetheless. He’s a skilled fighter, can hold his own against nearly anyone when weapons aren’t involved. He doesn’t like knives. Helpless with them, helpless against them. Noah is a firearms sort of guy. Always has a gun on him, either a pistol, or when he’s hunting he has a rifle. He’s interesting during fights. A textbook masochist. Pain doesn’t elicit the same reaction from him as it would for most other people. At best, he’ll ignore it, at worst, he’s drunk on it.

P E R S O N A L I T Y

Noah doesn’t remember much about his life before meeting the operator, if anything. There are glimpses of a history that doesn’t feel like his in the back of his mind, or when he’s half asleep, or when his brain turns off and he isn’t really thinking. Those are his favorite moments. Where he can pretend he isn’t himself. He’s a murderer. He’s quiet, and secretive, and temperamental. What might’ve at one point been a charming persona, dulled and narrowed itself down to a chassis unrecognizable to people who knew him when he was younger. He’s quick to anger. Restless when things are calm, and when he feels alright. He’s never actively antagonistic, but he doesn’t like other people, and his skin itches for instability. He can never hold down a relationship. Of any kind, platonic, romantic. Always ends up ruining it somehow. And he likes it that way. He doesn’t even know why he’s so angry, he just is. His internal world is indecipherable, even to him. He’s constantly mixing things up, getting things wrong, getting distracted, forgetting things. Which is strange, because in the abstract he’s intelligent. There are moments where it seems like he’s lucid, and he’s calm, easy going, likable, even. He has a dry sense of humor that on boys like him feel more charismatic than it actually is. But the neuroticism always comes back eventually. He isn’t Noah without the neuroticism. Maybe he isn’t Noah at all.

B A C K S T O R Y

He isn't. He grew up as a boy named Micah. A different person, honestly. Relatively normal, all things considered. Had parents, friends, a boyfriend, people that cared about him. A trajectory that should’ve been normal. He would’ve graduated highschool, gone to college, him and his boyfriend would break up and he’d marry a girl, or they wouldn’t and they’d end up together only to divorce later, or something. He thought domestic bliss was a stupid concept. Would give anything for it now.

The operator in his hometown was a story you told to kids. They called him the thin man. Micah and his friends would play in the woods on the outskirts of Haven, hunt for bird eggs, mark fake trails, the woods were sparse enough to not really worry about getting lost or losing each other, you could walk in any direction and reach a clearing in half an hour, or so, until you reached the deepwood, but no one went in there. Not even him. Haven was famous for having people go into that part of the woods and never come out. They said it’s because it was so disorienting, that you could walk in without even realizing it, and before you know it all the branches look the same and you can’t see a path. But when he was nineteen he went in. And he met the reason why no one ever really left those woods.

The concept of a proxy was weird to him. Someone that worked for an invisible force of nature you couldn’t see, but you could feel, and Micah felt him in the form of thick static at the back of his neck. Then again, he was drugged the entire time. It might’ve been that. The man who’d kidnapped him was named Noah. He was older, had a limp, a face he covered up by some sort of mask. Micah couldn’t remember. But he remembered his hands. They were unstable, shook constantly, leathery skin, or maybe gloves. Felt like fire. He remembered the way they’d palpitate when he took a blade, dragged it down his face, or somewhere else on his body. And this man, Micah would think to himself in a sedated haze, would use those hands to kill him. There was no universe where he got out of here in one piece.

The brain does fascinating things under extreme trauma. Noah would’ve made a brilliant psychiatrist in the 50s, because he’d triggered an artificial disassociation in Micah that helped him survive the ordeal at all. Mind over matter, he’d think, over, and over, and over, mind over matter. If he liked how much it hurt it wouldn’t be so bad. He’d make himself like it. If he missed home, his boyfriend’s stupid face so much he wanted to die, he’d tell himself he didn’t miss any of it at all. Where was he now? They’d gotten into a fight the last time he remembered, he wasn’t looking for him, wouldn’t save him, it was a waste of energy he didn’t have the luxury to sacrifice. The sedative helped. He didn’t know what it was. Some sort of depressant. His mind reeled, ran, sludged, brain into liquid. He wondered if Noah did this to everyone. Whatever that static was, it never shut up. A constant, ear grating buzz. Red noise. He’d get sick, Noah would laugh at him. He hated Noah. Hated Noah’s voice, his shaking hands, the smug sort of way he’d talk to him like he’d already won, like he’d already killed him. And he really should’ve. Noah was arrogant. Didn’t think he needed a gun for him, even though he had dozens lining the wall of his basement, an arsenal. And he didn’t. It wouldn’t have been difficult to kill someone locked to a chair and half awake. He was just an idiot. Let Micah slip out, let him kill him. His death was anticlimactic. A face pumped full of lead, features torn asunder. But the static was too loud all of a sudden, and he was nauseous, and his vision dimmed.

The amnesia paired itself with some delusion disorder, courtesy of the operator, he’d realize. He didn’t recognize his face, or his body, a perpetual state of psychosis, of dysphoria. Noah was the strongest thing in his mind. The last thing he really remembered. Maybe that’s why he latched onto the name. The memory of him. Or a voice he didn’t recognize told him it was him, that it was the only thing he made sense. This was Noah’s cabin, he recognized it, recognized the rooms, the temperature, the basement, the bloody, empty spot on the floor where something should’ve been. And then Noah’s cabin turned into his cabin. Noah’s mind turned into his mind. Some things scared him. He didn’t understand why his hands didn’t shake anymore, why he couldn’t stand to see his own face. But he clings to anything familiar. The thin man is familiar. He does what it tells him to.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

“you had no right to kill him.”

A voice said, from nowhere and everywhere all at once, register so alien and low it made his heart flatten to the pit of his stomach.

“a life for a life. your kind values equivocal exchange, no?”

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[rogueshadow1124]

"What do you mean transformation?"

Vampire¡OC!Astaroth Lameirèz x Reader

Summary: when the reader wakes up in a place unknown and is met with an unfamiliar man who claims he only wants to help...[Astaroth speech in red.]

Word count: 1632

Warning: mentions of sharp objects,(not proof read)

A light hum rang within the proximity of the room, the room itself was dark and musky, ashy stone walls glistening as a strip of moonlight seeped through the gap between the jhett curtains. In the back centre of the room was placed a king sized bed, maroon covers neatly tucked into the edges, looking as If it had just been made but a small scuffle  could be seen at the far left corner that was molded into a silhouette.

A groan echoed through the silence, along with a rustling as the figure squirmed slightly beneath the covers. A hand poked out from the sheets near the pillows, grasping onto the edge so tightly it made the knuckles of what looked to be a pale, dainty hand, turn into a even whiter ashy shade. The sheet was pushed down to reveal a head of messy Y/H/C locks that splayed around a perfectly shaped feminine face, the features being sharp but so soft at the same time- arched eyebrows layed above closed almond eyes, I little button nose and cheeks that looked chubby but held a significant shape for cheekbones which looked oddly adorable.

The girls eyes opened revealing a set of unmistakable piercing orbs, in the middle they held the bright colour of Y/E/C but the outskirts were intruded by a deep bloody red that was seemingly seeping into the original colour. Her eyes scanned around the room, still only half open and feigning a drowsy stare but she soon came to notice that this wasnt at all her room, but somewhere unfathomably unfamiliar to her.

"Oh I see your awake..." her head snapped up, landing on a ravern haired male who saunted into the room with an outwardly sense of confidence and elegance that wasnt at all hard to miss. The girl opened her mouth as if trying to speak but was immediately stopped by the man who had suddenly appeared by her side within the blink of an eye. "Now I know what you're thinking little one. I am not in anyway going to harm you...again, but may you refrain from speaking for a few moments it might just strain you a little."

From this angle, with him standing above her at the side of The bed and her staring up at him, she had noticed how his eyes were a deep red, shining as the light was cast against them. She swallowed dryly, eyes shuttering as a feeling of nervousness crept over her. "W-ho. A-are you?"

"Me? My name is Astaroth Lameirèz but you may call me Astar." He replied coyly, not holding very much emotion within his tone. He placed a hand on her chin, nimble fingers coming to grasp at her jaw and turn her head up and to the side, his other hand hovering above his own and her face as he used his thumb to lift her top lip to which she tried reconciling at but his hold was far from weak. He hummed to himself, eyebrows furrowing as he let her go and walked over to a desk that was on the opposite side of the room, she hardly heard the whisper he let out "I dont think it will be long now.."

"W-what ar-" the rest of her words were cut short by a sharp pain that shot through her gums, a stinging sensation spreading theough her eyes and her mouth beginning to grow even drying than before. "H-hurts..."

"Its all apart of the process darling." She blinked and again he was at her side, this time he held three objects; a pen light, a mini scalpel and some tweezers. His heightened senses picked up on the sound of her heart beat speeding ever so slightly from what was left for it to beat anyway, a sigh passed his plump pink lips as he rolled his eyes. "I assure you that I am only trying to help, trust me."

"T-trust you?!" The girl screeched, scrambling back on the bed, her back making contact with the dark oak headboard. She peered at him, wide eyed and puffs of air repeatedly catching in her throat and then releasing.  "W-hats happening t-to me?"

"I will explain when you calm down, just let me help you." He placed the objects on the nightstand beside the bed, slowly taking a seat on the edge of the bed next to her legs that shook as she watched his every movement from now, eyes racing from his face to his hands, waiting for any sudden movements that were to come. "Now let's start with your name little one."

"M-my name?" She stuttered, puffing out air when she saw him nod stoicly. "Y/N. Y-Y/N Y/L/N."

"Ah lovely, well since I've already introduced myself I guess I should give you an explanation." He offered a tiny smile, one which didnt look at all comforting but more awkward and in an attempt to show some source of hostility. "You are how do I say- urmhmm- transforming."

"T-transforming? I-I dont understand."

"I see you dont recall." His voice wavered, eyes setting on hers Intently. "Your memories should come back soon but in the meantime I have other matters to attend to."

He reached out and grabbed the pen light, clicking it so the white flash shone through the pointed end. His hand cupped Y/N's cheek, the touch being alot gentler than the first time, his thumb swept under her right eye, pulling down as he lifted the light to shine in her eye, causing her to flinch back for a second as she accommodated to the uncomfortable sensation. He switched to the other eye just as quickly examining how the pupils dilated and retracted as they should be doing.

"The red is becoming more prominent which means it's only a matter of time before you fangs come in." He stated, placing the pen light down, next taking a hold of the tweezers and scalpel.

"F-fangs? What do you mean fangs?"

"Correct, I did say fangs. I'm going to be blunt here sweetheart, you're transitioning and soon you will be one of my kind, a creature of the night if you will, a nighwalker, a vampire, however you would like to put it." The girls face looked to pale even more than it already had, eyes vibrating as she breathed a heavy breath through her nose. "Everything will make sense, all in good time."

"B-but..." she started to tear up, hands fisting the maroon sheets. "I-I dont understand."

"It will all make sense when your memories return in only a few hours, I promise you." His tone held sincerety, a soft one that was soothing and calming. She looked up to meet his eyes again, biting at her lip before giving a nod to let him do whatever it was he was going to do that could help her as he had claimed. "I'm going to need to remove some excess skin that sits around the fang so it will be easier when they start to grow in properly."

"W-will it hurt?!" Her voice suddenly became alarmed.

"No not at all, maybe a little pinching but it shouldnt hurt. Not one bit." His gleaming red orbs followed the girls, both locking onto each others as she heaved out a breath, giving a curt not before slipping back upright against the headboard. "I need you to stay as still as you can..."

Astaroth took hold of her chin, thumb hooking just inside her mouth by the corner of her bottom lip so he could pull down, revealing a row of shiny canines. He hummed allowing the tip of his thumb to press against the gum just beneath the tooth of her original fang that was soon to be replaced. His other hand rose, nearing the scalpel to the gum line where he flicked the sharp edge against the soft pink tissue, pulling it away from the tooth,

Y/N's eyes stayed locked on the males face, eyebrows furrowing when she felt the tweezers he now had in his hold start to tug at the loose piece of skin the had been pulled away from the gum line. She didnt exactly know why she was here, what was happening, or how she even got into this situation but the most weird thing was she didnt at all feel threatened by him, she was scared sure, but not of him. Astaroth, she wasnt at all frightened of him, more so the new atmosphere and what was to come next, what she was going to become in only a matter of time.

She couldnt help but admire the man, he looked like he was created by the gods themselves- messy brunette hair that held a slight spike at the edges, thick eyebrows that arched to perfection, deep red eyes that held so much emotion but shone so little, a chiselled nose that rounded at a soft curve fitting his face smoothly, cheekbones that raised but were grounded by the slight plump cheeks, a jawline that was sharp framing his features perfectly- he was inhumanly handsome.

"That should do for now." The girl blinked as she heard the brisk voice of Astaroth echo soundly through the air, she glanced up at him, an unreadable expression forming on her face as she squinted at him. She hasn't even noticed he had finished or how quickly the process had gone since she had been in her own head, completely and utterly enchanted by the man. "You should rest whilst you can darling, soon you wont even be able to sleep. The days will feel like a lifetime."

[kermit-ydafrog]

This is a Teenager Y/N x Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss Story!

Enjoy!

Skintone = (S/t)

Eye Color = (E/c)

Hair Color = (H/c)

Hair Length = (H/l)

Hairstyle = (H/s)

Birth Country = (B/c)

Vacation Country = (V/c)

Height = (H)

Age = (A)

9 Deadly Rings

It was another night at the dorms of 9 kids who we're best friends since they we're young

They we're having a sleepover tonight before there other friends depart for there birth country

It was 2 Days before they all leave for there little vacation at there birth country

Y/N: I am going to miss you guys so much!

Y/N is a (M/F/They) and is (Age) and is wearing a Grey Hoodie, Black Pants, Grey and White Rubber Shoes and a Backward Cap

Y/N skin is (S/t) while there hair is (H/l) (H/s) and is color (H/c) and there height is (H)

Y/N is going back to there home country at (B/c) as they leave the Philippines which is where they we're living because there (Parent) is a Filipino while there other (2nd Parent) is from (B/c) and wanna have there vacation there to meet there other relatives

Zara: Yeah same here dude but hey let's make sure the we get to text each other once the day is done so we can keep each other updated

Zara is a 16 year old female who is wearing a Black hoodie with a white shirt underneath, Grey Checkered Pants, Black and White Fila Shoes

She is also 4'10 in height, Has Brown Apple Cut Hairstyle, Warm Beige Colored Skintone and Dark Brown Eyes

Zara is living in the Philippines and so she will be staying behind alongside with her younger Brother John

John: Agree but hey have a nice vacation guys and Ofcourse stay safe

John is 15 year old Male one of Zara's siblings who is always seen wearing Black and Green Shirt with an opened Blue Jacket, Black Shorts and Blue sandals

John's height is 5'3, Has a Black Long fringe Hairstyle, Golden Skin, Dark Brown Eyes

Miko: Welp I guess I have to see you guys the next 3 Months!

Miko said Happily

Miko is a 16 year old female but her pronounce is They/Them, They are always seen with a dark red shirt with Blue jeans and black boots

Miko's height 5'1 have Black long low ponytailed hairstyle, Honey skintone, Black eyes

Leiz: I'm gonna leave this DAMN country with STYLE BITCHES!

Leiz said in her sassy attitude as always

Leiz is a 16 year old sassy Female who wears a White tank top with long sleeves that only reveals her shoulders, Blue Leather Short, Cyan Heels and is seen wearing Black glasses

Leiz's full name is Leizanne but it was shortened to Leiz, Her height is 5'1 and has black long loose wavy hair, light brown eyes and Warm Ivory Skin tone

In the background there you could see Judas having her head on Kurt's left shoulder crying softly...

Judas: I'm going to miss you so much

She cries and sniffles...

Kurt: Don't worry my angel...will see each other soon and don't forget that I will always call and text you everyday, night, before and after breakfast, lunch, afternoon break and dinner I promise

He said softly holding her and rubbing his hand on Judas's back softly

(We always have that one friend with a partner in the friend group even if there still like 14-16 👍)

Judas(Female) and Kurt(Male) are both 16 years old(Kurt being older by 3 Months, They both have Black short hair, Judas has an Apple cut medium hair that went to her neck while Kurt has a Quiff hairstyle

Judas has a Pale Ivory Skintone, Freckles and her height is 5'1

Judas is also wearing a Falu Red Sweater, Dark Blue Leather Jeans, She also has a yellow spring duck hair pin, wears rose pink crocks and also has Kurt's Black Hoodie wrapped around her waist

Kurt has Natural Warm Undertone Skin and his height is 5'3

Kurt is always seen with a white shirt underneath a Red unzipped Jacket, black pants and Blue Nike's Brand shoes

Nathasia: Sanaol(Slang word for "I wish everyone has one)

Nathasia's Height is 4'8, She's a 17 years old Female, She also has a Golden Warm Undertone Skintone, Black medium puffy apple cut hairstyle and Dark Brown eyes

Nathasia is always seen wearing a Brown Sweater with a Middle Finger imprinted on it saying "Fuck you" which was gifted by Zara from Nathasia's Birthday, She is also wearing a Black Leather Pants and black and White sneakers

And lastly there was a girl who is named Aira at the circle that the kids made on the floor around there only purple circled carpet

Aira is a Shy 16 year old Female the youngest of the group by months and her height being 5'0

Aira has a Porcelain Cool Undertone Skin color, Dark Brown Eyes, A black Curly medium hair in a low braided style and is wearing a a white long sleeve sweater, light blue leather Jeans, Plum colored Ballet shoes with a bow on the tip of it, and lastly a pink bow hair pin on her head

==============================================================

And this is where the story starts...

==============================================================

Emojis:

⚪Y/N⚪

🟠Leiz🟠

🟡Aira🟡

🔴Miko🔴

⚫Nathasia⚫

🟢Zara🟢

🚫John🚫

🟣Judas🟣

🔵Kurt🔵

==============================================================

"The Risk Takers/Chapter 1"

==============================================================

The kids laugh as they talk and talk, tell jokes, be goofy and cuss at times or talk dirty at times too and just laugh it off

🟠Leiz🟠: And I was like BITCH get to fucking ugly ass face out of mine if not I'll call the 1950's police to take back there old junk

🟢Zara🟢: Damn Bruh, was that really necessary???

She laughs

🔵Kurt🔵: Leiz your so fucking cold

He said jokingly

🟠Leiz🟠: Don't hate the Player, Hate the Game

⚪Y/N⚪: Yeah well I hate (Unlike Game), I think it's shit and unoriginal

Almost everyone look at Y/N and then suddenly...

🟠Leiz🟠: I didn't say literally

Leiz roll her eyes playfully and everyone chuckles

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The friend group Continues to talk until...

🟢Zara🟢: So...what countries we're guys born in again? And so where are you guys going to have a vacation to?

⚪Y/N⚪: Well I'm going back to my home country at (B/c) for awhile and then soon enough I'm going to (V/c) for maybe...2 months I think?

🟠Leiz🟠: My Birth country is at England and I'm going to have a vacation at Japan~!

What about you Aira?

She said smirking while swinging her hair to the side

🟡Aira🟡: I'm from Italy and I'm going to France for my Uncle's Wedding

🟢Zara🟢: Tell your Uncle I said "congrats!"

⚪Y/N⚪: What about you Miko?

🔴Miko🔴: Well I'm from South Korea and I'm going to Japan to see the Cherry Blossom Trees!!! Eeekkk!!!

She said excitedly

🟣Judas🟣: Sanaol, Well I'm going back to Mexico to visit some family members and will be going to America for a vacation

🔵Kurt🔵: I'm having a vacation at South Africa and also I'm literally born here in the Philippines can't you tell?

🚫John🚫: Why does that sound so racist???

🔵Kurt🔵: Come to think of it, it kind of is oof, sorry

He said casually after realizing what he just said

⚫Nathasia⚫: Well I'm born at England but when I turned 3 I was moved here in the Philippines because if my mom and then soon enough met my Bestie

She said while nudging her elbow to Zara

🟢Zara🟢: You got that right

⚫Nathasia⚫: And I'm going to be having my Vacay at USA also at Washington

🟣Judas🟣: I guess me and Nathasia are going to have a full on 2 girls night

Everyone complain saying "That's so unfair" or "Favouritism much?" In all teasing way making Y/N laugh at how almost everyone except Aira gang up on Nathasia and Judas

⚪Y/N⚪: What about you Zara? John?

Everyone turned to the Siblings

🟢Zara🟢: Well we're born here in the Philippines and our parents we're planning to go to Japan to see the Cherry Blossom Trees too!

She exclaimed happily

🔴Miko🔴: Oh my gosh same! Let's go!

⚪Y/N⚪: Aww that's so cute! A little Big Brother and Younger sister bonding time

🟢Zara🟢: Dude...I'm older than him...JUST BECAUSE HIS TALLER THAN ME DOESN'T MEAN IM THE YOUNGEST!

She squeeled like a Chihuahua

🚫John🚫: Shut the fuck up

He bonk Zara's head

Your so loud

🟢Zara🟢: Oh fuck you

⚪Y/N⚪: When are you guys even born?

🟢Zara🟢: Dec 14

🚫John🚫: April 22 and 2 years younger

⚪Y/N⚪: Oooh

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After awhile the kids got bored and decided to play a game which they made themselves which they called "The Grey Acts" it sound stupid but they prefer it that way especially the fact they called there gang "The Risk Takers" they're really bad at making group names

The Game is simple...

All they have to do is go and sit down in a circle around there round purple Carpet in the middle of there room...

They pick a fandom they like and pick a character and each of them start to write an event of some sort on a paper and put it in a hat and shuffle it

In each round one of them will grab one paper in the hat and everyone in the circle will roleplay that even in the character they choose

And Ofcourse everyone gets a turn to grab a paper themselves after each round

This time they all decided to go for the 7 Deadly sins but they added Heaven in it so it could be more interesting

They all then vote each other to be who is who

Aira was immediately voted for Heaven/Angel because she was mostly to be the mother or well caretaker of the whole bunch

Y/N and Zara was Pride even though this is way too humble for there own damn good and just shows everyone that they should be themselves and don't care about what other people think badly of you because you are just ✨💕AMAZING💕✨

John was Wrath when even though he has patience to not go on and turn on Hulk mode and destroy something and everything in his path by giving them a 3 chances before he blows a fuse

Judas was Gluttony when she's really have an amazing schedule of her diet...Talk about early dieting at this age

Kurt was Greed when this motherfucker is spoiling his girlfriend 24/7 and the fact he always put some of his change in charity boxes like bruh chill we get it your rich don't have to flex on us that you get to put Php100 on the fucking charity box 😭 butt then again his really generous

Nathasia was Envy when she's way too much chill with what she has to the point she can get creative with it like the dude uses there plastic bottles as vases and even uses some old recyclable newspapers to make a damn good Cosplay mask to the point she sells those damn stuff at school for Php15-Php20

Leiz was Lust because the girls is a dirty minded bitch which everyone just agreed and Leiz herself too...proud even but she Ofcourse only do that with her close friends just to goof off but when it comes to strangers she is shy and if someone did that to her she won't hesitate to slapped them

Miko was Sloth when the dude always put her assignments, projects, quizzes, exams and Chores first before even hanging out with them like bruh Sanaol

And so the kids then formed a circle around there Round Purple Carpet and put there shoelaces strings in a line in between each of them except Y/N and Zara who we're both are roleplaying as Pride

The group then decided to put and pulled out a book they found at the beach last month ago from there field trip in the middle to be more creepy and edgy or what not for the game

The book was old, rusty and had this some kind oval shaped mirror in the middle of it with metal scale of a snakes surrounding it and the book itself as aesthetic designs of it

The containment of the Book has ripped pages, burnt pages and is written in a strange Language which the group hought was a book made by a Tiktoker for someone to find it and keep it as a souvenir or what not for themselves

The group had decided to pull an all nighter since there was no classes tomorrow since it's the weekends

And so then...

The Game Begins...

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End Of Chapter 1...

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That's all for now! :D

I wanna see if anyone likes it before I continue this series :b

Thank you for reading in advance! 💕✨

[boozenboze]

Male reader x T’challa

Side note-Reader is a Top and is Dominant

-This is based off of the Black Panther movie -M/n = You

Females She/Her and She/They DNI

Imagine

Digging your way out of the debris of the fallen building. The same building you and your boyfriend had been in, where his father was giving a speech. You struggled to stand up due to the pressure that was once bestowed on your legs. Your eyes jolted from one place to another, trying to find the prince of Wakanda. The sound of debris being moved immediately caught his attention. A feeling of relief went through him as he saw his lover pushing himself up from the rubble. He used whatever energy he had left in him to pull him up, to which the male gripped onto him.

“Are you okay?” The e/c eyed male asked as he cupped the princes face. T’challa muttered something before his eyes widened.

"I-i'm fine...wait where is my father?!” T’challa responded with sudden concern in his tone. The both of you turned to where the King had last been seen, and there he was. Laying there with no signs of survival being shown.

T'challa stumbled towards his now deceased father and began to hug him, rocking back and forth after realizing he was gone. M/n didn''t know what to do, all he could do at the moment was wrap his arms around T'challa as they both mourned the loss of the king.

Imagine

Wrapping your arms around T’challa, as you both admire the beauty of Wakanda. The mission you had been on was relatively easy, but T'challa was still worried. Either way, he was glad that they both came out all right. Nakia was also doing well, and you were both happy to see one another. Their was a comfortable silence between the two of you as Okoye announced that you were home. Going through the illusion that covered your nation was something that had never gotten old to the T'challa. The loss of the previous king still weighed heavy on their hearts, but that was all part of grief. It was time to look forward now and see where this change would bring you. M/n took a glance at T'challa's face, seeing how he looked lost.

"You know, if your so nervous about becoming the King I could just challenge you and take that place." M/n said with devious smirk on his face, as the Prince looked back at him with an unamused expression.

"Oh please, you wouldn't be able to handle it..." T'challa said in a sarcastic tone of voice. Nakia and Okoye listened in on their conversation as they approached the Citadel.

"Well...even if that is the case there's always one thing that I know how to handle." The h/c haired male said with a smug look on his face.

"Oh? And what would that be?" T'challa asked in curiosity as the other man looked him up and down before winking, proceeding to walk towards the exit. T'challa froze again like he did not so long ago, he felt his face heating up at his lovers comment before following close behind him. He held his head low to cover the look of embarrassment on his face. Nakia and Okoye gave each other a look before following the two, both wondering how T'challa met someone like you.

Imagine

Being in the lab with Shuri, helping her with T’challa’s new suit. He had became King, and you were very proud for him. Although, it did feel like hell having to watch him get stabbed by M’baku’s staff. Shuri had brought up the new suit for her brother to test out to which he did. When his attack was absorbed Shuri had started recording which led to T'challas confusion.

"M/n ,....why is she recording..?"

"Research purposes...?"M/n replied in faux confusion. T'challa squinted and eyed the both of them before striking the suit in the same spot. The release of the kinetic energy sent the king flying, which caused the two who were preasent to laugh.

“Delete that right now!” T’challa demanded as you and Shuri laughed at the footage that had been recorded. You helped him stand up but he gave you a fake glare. You couldn’t help but kiss him on the cheek which caused him to push you away with a smile on his face.

“Ah come on you can’t stay mad at me~.” M/n teased as T’challa looked away in embarrassment.

“Aw..my brother is blushing.” Shuri said with a wide smile as T’challa rolled his eyes.

“Shut up Shuri....”

Imagine

Sharing a heated kiss with T’challa, which led to him being under you. His hand was buried in the h/c haired males scalp as he moaned at the feeling of M/n’s lips being against his skin.

“You enjoying yourself my King~?” M/n asked as he slowly palmed his hardening cock through his pants. The dark skinned male could only whimper in response as the s/c skinned male began to play with his nipples. The King arched his back in response which made him moan. M/n pulled away to which T’challa stared at him through lust filled eyes.

“W-why’d you stop.” T’challa asked as he watched M/n grab a small bottle of lube.

“Well....I don’t think either of us would enjoy seeing you in pain.” M/n said softly as T’challa stared up at him with a softened expression, the once heated moment turned into something more gentle. T’challa used one of his free hands to place it on M/n’s cheek, pulling the male into a short but meaningful kiss. He gave him a droopy smile before M/n guided one of his hands towards the other mans penis. M/n began to give the Kings cock long strokes before using the thumb technique, while his other hand grabbed the small bottle.

T’challa’s hands gripped onto the sheets, breathy moans escaping his mouth as M/n poured a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. He slowly circled T’challa’s rim before pushing a finger into him. The man beneath him hissed at the intrusion as M/n stared down at him.

M/n held T’challa’s cock in a gentle grip as he began to thrust his finger in and out. The stinging sensation turned into something blissful as the King moaned in pleasure.

“More...-ah! Please...?”

“Patience my love, you'll get what you want.”

Imagine

Wakng up early in the morning, the sun not even being out as the moonlights rays shined. T'challa's head was laid on your chest, his steady breathing indicating that he was in a deep sleep. You smile and checked the time seeing that it was barely 2 am. Your session lasted for about 4 rounds before T'challa had to tap out. Despite you being the dominant one of the relationship, it seemed that he would be using his title as King to give you orders of what to do. You stretched for a moment, leaving T'challa to lay on one of his many pillows. M/n sighed and was about to stand up when he heard a grunt behind him.

"Where are you going....what time is it..? T'challa questions as M/n ran a hand through his h/c hair.

"I was gonna go take a walk, didn't expect you to wake up." M/n said with a nervous smile making its way upon his features. T'challa sat up and pulled M/n by the arm, signalling for him to lay back down.

"I didn't feel your warmth anymore so I couldn't sleep." T'challa explains as he turned so that his back was facing M/n. The male that was mentioned smirked and pulled the covers over the both of them. He wrapped his arms around T'challa's waist and pulled him closer to him. The king hummed in content as he closed his eyes, now being able to bask in his boyfriends warmth once again.

[1p2p-heta-suggestives]

Can I get 1p Canada for the NSFW alphabet please?

Read more is here for now so people don’t accidentally read this kind of content without wanting to

A - Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

• He is the absolute sweetest when it comes to aftercare. He’ll run them a bath, make sure they drink sometimes, compliment and praise them, he’s always the nicest person with aftercare.

B - Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

• He likes his legs, he’s pretty toned underneath all the baggy clothes since he plays ice hockey which you (apparently, don’t quote me) need strong legs for and he’s proud of himself for it

• He’s a thigh man, he sees it as: the bigger thighs, the better

C - Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

• Again with the thighs, he absolutely loves cumming on them especially if they give high a thigh job, it’s his favourite

D - Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

• Will keep people’s clothes if they leave it and go home, he has a small collection of random things from people he’s slept with that they never came back to collect

E - Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

• He experienced enough that he knows what he’s doing, he always makes sure to know what the other person wants beforehand though

F - Favorite position (This goes without saying)

• Mating press, he likes having some underneath him like that

G - Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? Etc.)

• Not really humorous or serious, he’s very relaxed about everything and hopes it calms any nerves that they may have

H - Hair (How well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? Etc.)

• He’s pretty well groomed, he trims whenever needs be, it’s the same colour as his hair

I - Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

• He’s usually quite intimate with people, he wants to make them feel good and loved so he makes an effort to be romantic

J - Jack off (Masturbation headcanon)

• Whenever he’s hard, doesn’t really have a timeline, it’s not all that often though

K - Kink (One or more of their kinks)

• Role Play

• Hair Pulling

• Creampies

L - Location (Favorite places to do the do)

• He doesn’t really mind if it’s his room or theirs, it’s mostly wherever they’re most comfortable that he cares about

M - Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

• Any kind of neck kisses, he’s absolutely weak for them

N - No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

• Not into cuffs, they just end up making his wrists ache and he can’t focus of anything but that so he’s not a fan of them

O - Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

• Prefers to give, he’s an absolute service top, and he’s very skilled

P - Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.)

• He defaults to something slow but rough, is always happy to change it up if they ask him to

Q - Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

• He’s indifferent, he doesn’t like or dislike them, he won’t complain about one

R - Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? Etc.)

• He can usually tell if he’ll like something at the start of it so it really is based off of that first mention of it

S - Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

• 4 or 5 rounds and then he’s out, he’s usually very overstimulated by that point anyway

T - Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

• He has one or two toys, not many, they’re for himself. If the other person wants to use them then he’d get them their own.

U - Unfair (How much they like to tease)

• Not much of a teaser

V - Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

• He’s not that loud, the occasional moan and heavy breathing is the most

W - Wild card (A random headcanon for the character)

• Has to use stimulants sometimes because antidepressants make it difficult for him to stay hard, he’s not really embarrassed by it

X - X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

• A little bigger than average, around 6 inches, quite thick.

Y - Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

• It’s higher than most countries, he’s pretty unashamed about it

Z - Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

• Only falls asleep if he has nothing else to do, usually he lets the other person rest while he does something like making a meal or cleaning