#just let the momentum take you down when you’re swinging

[kaijuno]

Not to be the hottest woman ever but I know how to fix cars and I can chop a log with an axe in one stroke

[ichorai]

snow spider ; miguel o'hara.

pairing ; miguel o'hara x spider!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; you were the ice to his fire—and miguel was burning for you.

words ; 4.4k

themes ; fluff, slight angst

warnings / includes ; set before the events of atsv, descriptions of injury/violence, cursing, a bit suggestive, mentions/appearances of other spidey characters, ben being a dramatic idiot, peter & may being adorable, cameos of magneto and doc ock, miguel is down so bad, can you guys tell i'm also in an asoiaf phase ? (winter is coming !!)

a/n ; there will be a part two set during the events of atsv !!

main masterlist.

You were Miguel’s seventeenth recruit. The first of your name. The first that wasn’t a Peter Parker, or a Jessica Drew, or a Ben Reilly. 

When Miguel dropped into your universe, one rife with crime and tragedy, stricken by a never-ending winter, he fell into a large pile of snow. 

“Damn it,” he whispered through chattering teeth, brushing off the frigid frost clinging to his suit and glancing around the iced-over city. There were sparse few people littering the streets, hovering over trash-fires and clutching rumbling stomachs. This was certainly a stark contrast to Nueva York—the universe looked dead, almost. A ghost town, frozen over into nothing but a glacial artifact.

Before Miguel could start forward to look for the Spider of the universe, a sticky web shot out from seemingly nowhere, binding his hands together. Ah. It seemed that you’d found him before he could find you.

“You’re not from here. I can’t smell the winter on you,” a voice echoed, saturated with curiosity, edged with caution. A second later, you materialized in front of him, clad in a white suit, sharp silver lines running over your form. On your chest was a spider, a pale snowflake engraved into its abdomen. Miguel stared at you with wide eyes. “Who are you?”

A beat of silence. 

“Your universe is cold,” was all he could think of saying, still caught off-guard. 

You took a step back. “My universe…?”

After clearing his throat, he shook himself out of his reverie. “My name is Miguel O’Hara. I’m from a different universe. I’m here to recruit you into my team to help keep the multiverse from collapsing.”

You shifted, muscles still tense. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

Lifting his wrists, Miguel twisted a hand and used his sharp claws to cut himself free of the sticky bonds. “Let me show you.”

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Miguel wasn’t supposed to like you this much. You were just meant to be another recruit for the Spider Society… maybe a close work companion, or a trusted friend at best. 

But as he watched you dart in and out of visibility, your suit only but flashes of white and silver, he couldn’t help but marvel at how easy it was to work with you. How much he genuinely enjoyed working with you, spending time with you, listening to you laugh at his stiff quips. And he really thought he was being subtle about it, but Jessica had already picked up on Miguel’s keen interest in you, always teasing him about having a crush on another Spider.

It wasn’t a crush, though. No, Miguel just really liked your work ethic.

Right?

“Heads up!” you yelled, swinging forward and using the momentum to kick an incoming car barreling right in his direction. The metal doors caved in beneath the power of your strike, veering to the left just in time to miss him. 

The two of you were taking down another anomaly that’d cropped up, one of the several dozens in only the past week. This anomaly, however, wasn’t the regular neighborhood villain they’d usually get, but instead an omega-level mutant: Magneto. 

Shards of metal rained down around you, but you were quick to deflect by thwipping out large, sticky webs to catch them before they could impale you. 

“This guy manipulates metal, Miguel!” you yelled. “Cuffs won’t work on him!” 

Another large metal pole rocketed straight for you, but Miguel dove towards you, yanking you out of the way.

“Thanks!” you told him, a bit too wound up to notice his large hands tightly wound around your midriff. “Can you distract him for me?”

Nodding wordlessly, Miguel shot out several glowing, synthetic webs in quick succession to momentarily blind Magneto. You used his shoulder to launch yourself upward, turning invisible in mid-air. 

Before the man could realize what was happening, you yanked his protective helmet off, landing a calculated strike to the back of his head. Immediately, all the bits of metal floating in the air came plummeting to the ground, and Magneto went limp in your hold. You swung down to the ground, coming back into view. 

“You’re gonna have to alert one of the Spiders that we need a metal-free cage for him,” you told Miguel, a bit breathless. 

Okay, a lot breathless. There was a sharp sting on your side—a broken piece of metal must have grazed you during the fight.

Miguel wound an arm around you to help you walk, concern festering within his chest at the sight of crimson staining your once-pristine white suit, his other hand dragging an unconscious Magneto by the scruff of his collar. With a tap of the watch, a portal opened up, flashing a multitude of bright oranges and purples. 

Back in his universe, Miguel was quick to hand Magneto over to a few Peters, telling them to be careful not to get any metal near him. You pulled off your mask and squeezed Miguel’s bicep in gratitude when he shifted his hold on you, ensuring that you wouldn’t put any weight on your injured side. Even exhausted, you were beautiful. Miguel remembered the first time he saw you without your mask: the entirety of his linguistic vernacular went flying out the window and he was left embarrassingly spluttering out a long string of incoherent sentences. You were patient with him, beaming wide and nodding emphatically, even though none of what he said had made sense. 

Yeah, alright, fine. Miguel had a crush. It really wasn’t a big deal (it was a very big deal). He’d be damned if he’d ever admit it to Jessica, though—that woman would never let him live it down.

Several Spiders waved hello to the two of you as you hobbled by, and you could only give them a winded half-smile in return. Some of them asked if you were alright, noticing the blood on your suit, but you reassured their worries away, “I’m fine. Miguel’s got me.”

A rush of protectiveness fell over him, and he clutched onto you all the tighter, hurrying to make his way back to the base. There were a few Spiders hanging around the control panels, chattering amongst themselves, and Miguel gave them a quick scan to make sure things were going smoothly since his departure. Once everything seemed to be in order, he finally tugged you into a more secluded room, helping you sit on a table as he grabbed the first aid kit. 

“Sorry,” he murmured, ripping off his mask as well. His dark hair was disheveled, sharp brown eyes softening with guilt. “I got distracted during the fight.”

“Hey, it happens,” you replied warmly, fingers lifting to pat his cheek. The feeling of your cold skin pressed up against the blistering heat emanating from his cheeks made a shiver dance up his spine. “We’re alive, and we got the anomaly. Everything’s fine.” 

“But you’re hurt.”

“I’ll heal.”

With careful, fleeting touches, Miguel drew back the ripped fabric of your suit to inspect the gash in your side. He cleaned away as much blood as he could, murmuring gruff apologies every time you flinched. The guilt worsened when he began deftly stitching up your wound—it didn’t go past his notice when your face twisted with the pain, and you bit your lip in a fruitless attempt to keep the sharp agony at bay.

“You did good out there, Y/N,” he said, desperate to distract you. “What was it like being the Spider in your universe?”

You spared him a loose grin, appreciating his attempts to keep you entertained. 

“Tiring,” you admitted, fingers digging into his shoulders when he began another stitch. “I mean, I’m sure you’ve heard the same story a million times by now. I was a scientist, trying to find a way to reverse the never-ending winter. I was bitten by a radioactive winter-spider… the only kind of spider left after our world iced over. I, uhm… I lost my uncle. My mom, shortly after. She was captain of the police force.” 

There was a long pause. It was obvious that you weren’t too keen on divulging all the details just yet. Your eyes watered with the memory, a glimmering film of tears warbling over your lower lashes, and Miguel gently patted your knee in understanding, silently reassuring you that you didn’t have to tell him everything.

You drew in a deep breath. “I realized I had powers—I had all the abilities of a spider, and I could turn invisible, and withstand the cold much more than before. I was known as the Snow Spider. A lot of people died from the frost. I couldn’t save them. I tried to help as much as I could, but it was just never enough. And then… I met you.” A smile graced your expression, one that sparked life into Miguel’s heart. “I moved from just helping my city, to helping the entire multiverse.”

Before you knew it, Miguel was tying off the last stitch, biting the thread short with his sharp fangs once he was done. You murmured a sincere thanks, placing your palm flat against his chest, feeling the quick thrum of his heart slamming against his ribcage.

If you noticed how his pulse seemed to kick up a notch with your ministrations, you didn’t say anything. For that, Miguel was grateful.

“There you go. That’s a brief summary of my life story. It’s only fair if you tell me yours.”

The man met your gaze, irises dark and warring with conflict.

“What’s there to say? I got powers, just like you. I lost people, just like you. I built the Spider Society… and then I met you.” The last bit was said as he nudged you gently, and he offered you a tentative smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Hesitant, you lifted your hand, softly grazing your knuckles against his cheek. Icy was your touch, but it felt nice—almost addicting. He found himself leaning against your hand, shutting his eyes as he exhaled.

“You’re a mystery, Miguel,” you murmured, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to his cheek as thanks for patching you up, before sliding off the table to stride away. Miguel watched you go with a lump in his throat. “Luckily for you, I like mysteries.”

“How long has that been a thing? I haven’t noticed because I’ve been too busy thinking about my… miserable past,” sighed Ben, coming to stand beside Jessica, the two of them watching Miguel follow after you like a lost puppy, face uncharacteristically mellowed with an undeniable lovesick expression. 

“It’s not a thing,” she replied with an amused scoff. “Not yet, at least.”

You halted what you were doing and turned around to grin at Miguel. “Look, I stitched my suit back together. It’s good as new!” 

His dark, molten eyes gleamed with affection. “It looks great.” He caught sight of your web-shooters, fixed against the base of your hand. “I still can’t believe you need those.”

“Well, I can’t believe you have spinnerets embedded into your skin. I can’t tell if I’m more grossed out or curious to know more,” you shot back, taking his hand to inspect his wrist with narrowed eyes. “What other kind of powers do you have?”

With a roguish grin, he bared his teeth, sharp fangs drawing out. 

“I can never get over those. They’re kinda intimidating, but in a cool way.” Before you could stop yourself, you tacked on, “And really fucking hot.”

Heat crawled up his neck. He stared blankly at you. “They’re poisonous.”

Still, you smiled at him, all sweet and flustered. “Hm. It’s a shame, really. I definitely would’ve asked you to bite me if not for the venom.” Neither of you were quite sure if you were joking or not.

Miguel was certain he was going to combust into flames. “I can still bite you without injecting the poison into your system. It’s a voluntary response.”

To his surprise, you burst into a fit of laughter. Gods, he was absolutely smitten with that sound. The way your nose wrinkled, the side of your eyes creased, the shaking of your shoulders as you chuckled… it was all too much for Miguel.

“Don’t tempt me with a good time,” you warned.

“Oh, I can do much more than just tempt,” said the man in front of you, making your laughter taper away into silence. 

You studied him for a moment longer. Before you could say anything, both of your watches beeped simultaneously. With one more amused huff, you patted his shoulder, brushing past him and pulling your mask over your face. “Come on, mister. Anomalies to catch, universes to save… we can continue this conversation later.”

The months pass by in a blur. 

You were wrangling back another Doc Ock anomaly, having webbed up all his metal tentacles, easily tossing him into a temporary laser cage with a sweet smile. The villain was spitting obscenities, going on and on about the power of the sun in his grasp, how you’d ruined everything for him. 

“You’ll pay for this!” he yelled, slamming his fist against the glowing barrier. 

“Sorry, Doc,” you said with a mild grin. “I’ve met around a dozen of you, and so far, you were the most compliant. That makes you my favorite!”

You saluted him with a wink, before turning on your heel and striding away. It wasn’t long before Miguel found you, falling into step with your stride.

“Look at you, taking on anomalies all on your own,” he murmured lowly, nudging your side with his elbow. “Good job.”

With a scoff, you pulled off your mask, regarding him with an expectant gaze as you leaned forward, so close that your nose nearly brushed against his. He could feel the cold frost of your breath blow over the heated planes of his cheeks. “Well, then, Mr. O’Hara, wouldn’t I deserve a reward?”

The vampire-spider only flushed at your words, mouth falling open and shut as he struggled with a rebuttal. 

Your laugh, soft and tinkering, made his heart nearly seize within his chest. Still chuckling, you shoved away from him, saying that you had to get back to your universe to make sure everything was still in order there.

As you made your way out of the room, using your watch to portal through to your wintry hellscape, Jessica appeared out of nowhere beside him, one hand on her heavily pregnant belly, and the other cocked upon her hip. 

“God, you really can’t be more obvious, can you?” she asked.

Miguel spared her a glance, snapping out of his reverie and standing up straighter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Everyone knows you’re in love with the Snow Spider. And don’t you deny it—I know a liar when I see one.” She watched Miguel frown, but didn’t bother protesting her claim. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. Tell them, you big grump. Y/N deserves to know.”

Before he could reply, Jessica was already hastening away, yelling over her shoulder that she had to go to the bathroom because the damn baby was kicking against her bladder again.

Jealousy was not an emotion Miguel was well acquainted with. Ever since he witnessed an entire universe crumbling away in front of him, he was careful not to get too attached to anything. To anyone.

But he did. He grew attached to Jessica, who was his most trusted friend, always giving him the best advice and always available to lend him a helping hand. Though he’d never admit it, Miguel was also rather fond of Ben and his obnoxious penchant for his dramatic tragedies. And, most obvious of all, he was undoubtedly very close to his best soldier, Lego Peter.

Then there was you.

It infuriated him—the way you’d smile around him, give him the most fleeting of touches, always pleasantly cold, leaving prickly goosebumps in your wake. You would offer him an affectionate nudge and a myriad of teasing compliments that made his stomach want to fold in upon itself. But Miguel tried not to think too much of it: you were a generally kind person, with many of the Spiders in the society taking a certain liking to you. It didn’t go past his notice that you’d caught more than a few romantic eyes. Every time a Peter or a Ben would openly flirt with you, he could feel himself bristling, bile rising within his throat.

Again, Miguel wasn’t used to feeling jealous. He wanted to be the one cooking dinner for you, holding you in his arms, kissing you, touching you—

To his relief, you never paid them much mind, often politely declining with a poorly-forged excuse of having to return to your universe.

It was nearly a year since you’d first met Miguel when you were at Headquarters, holding a babbling Mayday as she crawled all over you. You laughed when she climbed up onto your shoulders, slipping down into your hands with a gleeful coo, blue eyes bright and wide. With gentle hands, you brushed her messy ginger hair away from her face. 

“She doesn’t look like you, huh?” you asked Peter B. Parker. “She must be a carbon copy of her momma.”

“A good thing,” admitted the man beside you, muffling a yawn as he dug the heels of his palms into his sleep-deprived eyes, adorned with dark bags. “Wouldn’t want her taking after her old man, now would I?”

“Why not?” you asked, amusedly watching when May shot out a web from her tiny shooters, swinging away to clumsily scale a nearby wall. “I think you’re very handsome. Trust me, the sleep-deprived look is very trendy right now. In my universe, at least. Nobody can really sleep well with the never-ending cold we got going there.”

Peter gave you a loose smile. “You know what, you’re right. Dad bods are making a comeback. By the way, did I tell you about my coin collection—”

Before Peter could finish what he was saying, your watch beeped noisily, and Ben’s slumped hologram appeared over your wrist. “Y/N, I’m glad you’re here,” he said. You had to hold your tongue not to retort that he was the one that’d called you. “I need you to come comfort me and hold onto my strong, muscular arms as I tell you about my gruesome past.” The pale image of Ben flickered as he flexed his biceps. 

You rolled your eyes to the side. Ben had become a close friend during your time with the Spider Society, nearly inseparable after you’d saved his life from an Electro anomaly once. That man was quite the emotional one, he was.

“I’ll be there, just give me a minute.” 

“Bring me one of those Spider-burgers, will you? Extra ketchup and no p—”

You tapped at your watch and his hologram disappeared before he could finish his request. With a mild wince, you glanced at Peter. “You wanna come with me and listen to Ben dramatically mope for an hour? I’ll treat you and May to Spider-burgers, because it looks like I’ll have to stop by there, anyway.”

“I would, I really would, but I gotta put May down for a nap,” he said with a sympathetic slant of his lips. As if on cue, the baby fell back into Peter’s arms, yawning widely. Bouncing her up and down, Peter absent-mindedly remarked, “Make sure Miguel doesn’t catch you being all sweet with Ben. That guy is crazy about you. Hah, he’d lose his marbles!” 

You blinked.

“What?”

Peter froze, realizing what he’d just said.

“What?” he parroted.

“No, uh, what did you say, about Miguel being…”

“Nothing! Huh? I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, you did. I heard you. Peter, what are you saying? Miguel is—?” 

Sheepish, Peter scratched the back of his head. “Oh, wow, would you look at the time!” Peter pulled down the sleeve of his pink bathrobe to mimic looking at the watch. He hastily stepped away. “I have to go. I didn’t say anything. Bye! I’d love a Spider-burger with you another time! Bye! See you later!”

You watched in bewilderment when the older man swung away with his baby in his hands, muttering out a long string of panicked curses under his breath.

Miguel was crazy about you?

After a few seconds of deliberating your next move, you shot out a web and swung away, heading to Miguel’s private office, where you knew he would be buried in figuring out a solution to the influx of new anomalies. Surely Ben would be alright with you showing up a bit late (he wouldn’t, but you had more pressing matters at hand).

“Hey, Miguel,” you greeted with a soft voice, slipping inside after knocking twice. “Hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”

The man offered you a warm grin. “Never a bad time with you. What’s going on?”

“Well, I just… I had a rather interesting talk with Peter B,” you started, striding across the office until you stood just in front of his desk, with Miguel on the other side.

He tilted his head. “Was it about that collection of coins he lost to an anomaly? He needs to get over that.”

“I—what? The poor guy lost his coin collection? He’d been working on that for years!” Shaking your head, you mindfully got back on track. “Well, no, that’s not what we talked about.”

Dark eyes narrowing, Miguel crossed his arms, deadpanning, “What did he tell you?”

There was a rather mischievous hue to your expression that Miguel misliked. Slow and deliberate, you stepped around the desk, fingers dragging along the smooth top. You stood so close to him that your chest was only a hair’s breadth from his—if he were to take too deep a breath, the two of you would be touching by now.

“Hm… Peter accidentally let slip that you have feelings for me. Is that true, Miguel?” The way his name rolled off your tongue nearly made him choke as his brain short-circuited. 

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, echoing the exact thing he had said to Jess a month ago. 

You studied him, gaze dragging from his stiff face, to his tense stature, and back up again. It may have been a trick of light, but Miguel could swear he saw your eyes linger on his lips. 

With a hum, you leaned even closer. He could hear your heart thrumming now, a steady, strong beat—which completely juxtaposed against his own rapid pulse, drumming loud within his ears. Up this close, he could smell your perfume, see the flecks of color within your pretty eyes, notice the way your lips quirked up with a sweet smile. Even whilst teasing him, you made sure that you weren’t overstepping any bounds, giving him ample time to step away if need be.

“Oh,” you said, feigning confusion. Your hand rested upon his clavicle, nails lightly dragging down his neck. A sharp thrill struck down Miguel’s spine at the sensation. You were barely touching him, for God’s sake! “So you wouldn’t mind if I… go ask Ben out for dinner?”

A beat of silence. Miguel’s brows knitted together.

The next words were susurrated as you dipped forward to nudge your nose along his neck, pressing a cold whisper of a kiss along the underside of his jaw. “Or if I… I don’t know… if I invite him to stay at my place for the night?” 

Of course, there was no real weight to your words. Ben was simply a good friend, but damn if you didn’t enjoy the way Miguel’s eyes twitched.

Finally snapping, a low growl rumbled within his chest, his hands shooting out to grab your waist. You were cold to the touch, the ice to his fire, as his fingers curled over your back, shoving you up against the wall behind his desk. As if on instinct, your hands came to clutch at his broad shoulders.

You smiled, wide and triumphant. You’d finally broke him. 

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he gruffed, staring deep into your eyes to make sure you were alright with this. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. From your gleeful expression, Miguel could see that you were just the opposite. 

“Oka—mmph!” 

His lips slanted over yours, warm and rough, yet cold and soft at the same time. It was a kiss of starkly juxtaposing contrasts, heavy with months and months of unspoken yearning. His large nose brushed against your cheek, angling his face to kiss you harder—deeper. 

When one of your hands slithered up the back of his neck to tug at the roots of his dark hair, he sighed against your mouth, breaking the kiss to lean his forehead over yours.

“He was right,” said Miguel.

“Who was?”

“Peter. I do have feelings for you.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth, nudging your nose against his sharp cheekbone. “Really? I would’ve never guessed.” He surged forward to kiss you again, relishing in the way you just about melted into his touch. “If it wasn’t obvious already, I really like you, too.”

At your admission, Miguel beamed, loose and hesitant. “You still planning on asking Ben out to dinner and having him stay over at your place, then?”

You tapped a finger onto your chin, pretending to have a good, long think about it. “Give me a good reason to stay, and I won’t.” At Miguel’s slightly crestfallen expression, you patted his cheek, quick to say, “God, Miguel, I was just kidding. Ben and I are good friends. You and I, however… I wouldn’t exactly call you a friend—”

His lips met yours again, stealing the rest of your words from you. 

When you smiled into the kiss, he smiled back. It was a bit too early for love, sure, but Miguel already knew he was in too deep to back out.

He was falling in love with you. 

The thought terrified him to no end, but he merely kissed you harder, and clutched you all the closer to him.

[elikajinnie]

I Let The World Burn For You - N.R |Part 2

P: Serial Killer!Ni-ki X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Graphic Descriptions, Murder, Manipulation, Attempted Murder, Injury/Blood, Teasing, Angst, Obsessive Behaviour, Mind Games, Ni-ki is a nerd.

Synopsis: You’ve always loved crime shows, captivated by the mystery and mind games, but you never expected to live in one. When a killer develops an unsettling obsession with you, you’re thrust into a deadly game where you’re not just a target—you’re the centerpiece.

a/n: i see i made Ni-ki a GIANT red flag!! mhh but i love horror so whatever :) @totallynotj3zz you gave me too much power.

See request here | Read part 1 here

--

The door bursts open, and there he is, silhouetted against the dim light of the hallway, his figure towering, his shadow stretching across the floor like it’s ready to swallow you whole. But you’re ready this time. Your grip tightens on the wrench, and as he steps into the room, you swing.

The wrench cuts through the air with a force that surprises even you, but he’s fast—unnaturally fast. He sidesteps, the tool narrowly missing his masked face. The momentum of your swing sends you stumbling forward slightly, but you recover quickly, your grip on the wrench tightening as you raise it again, desperate and determined.

This time, you swing with even more force, aiming for his chest, but his hand snaps out with alarming speed, catching your wrist mid-swing. The impact jars your entire arm, pain shooting up from the sudden grip. His fingers digs into your skin as he pulls you closer, wrenching the weapon from your hand and tossing it to the floor with a metallic clatter.

You’re pulled into him, your chest nearly colliding with his as you struggle against his hold. His mask looms inches from your face, and you can hear his heavy breathing beneath it, eerily calm despite your thrashing. One hand keeps your wrist firmly pinned, while the other tilts your chin upward, forcing you to meet the blank, haunting stare of the mask.

“Well, aren’t you feisty,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. His grip tightens slightly as he leans closer, his head tilting as if to study you. “I like that. Makes this so much more fun.”

Your breath catches in your throat, a mix of fear and fury bubbling inside you. You feel trapped, but you refuse to let him win. His hand lingers on your chin, tilting your face slightly, as if he’s savoring the moment.

“Such a pretty little thing,” he taunts, his voice dripping with amusement. “Shame you don’t know when to quit.”

Before he can say anything more, your legs jerks up, slamming into his shin with all the force you can muster. The impact is solid, and his grip falters as he lets out a grunt of pain, momentarily stumbling. You take the opportunity and yank yourself free, adrenaline surging through you as you spin and bolt for the doorway.

He curses behind you, a sharp sound filled with irritation, but you don’t dare look back. Your bare feet skid against the wooden floor as you push yourself forward, your lungs burning with each ragged breath. You can hear him recovering, his footsteps heavy and fast as he begins to follow you again, but you don’t stop. You can’t stop.

You barrel down the hallway, your heart hammering in your chest, searching desperately for another way out. Doors blur past you, each one closed, each one a potential death trap if you’re cornered again. Your mind races as you try to remember the layout of the house. There has to be another way down, another way out—anything to put more distance between you and him.

The only thought in your head is survival.

Your heart pounds like a war drum in your chest as his heavy footsteps echo behind you. The house is a labyrinth of creaking floorboards and peeling wallpaper, and every turn feels like it leads you closer to him. But somehow, you manage to stay just out of his reach, darting through doorways and ducking under tables, fueled by sheer desperation and adrenaline.

You burst into a dusty living room, skidding on the wooden floor. Your eyes scan for an escape route, and you spot a heavy armchair near a window. Without hesitation, you shove it toward the door just as he rounds the corner. His masked face tilts, almost amused, as he watches you struggle to block the entrance.

“Smart move,” he taunts, his voice laced with a twisted sort of admiration. “But not smart enough.”

You dive for the window, frantically trying to lift the old, stuck frame, but his footsteps are closing in fast. He’s almost on you when, in a flash of inspiration, you grab a nearby lamp and hurl it in his direction. It smashes against the wall, shards flying, forcing him to pause and shield himself. You use the moment to slip past him, sprinting back into the hallway.

“Always so clever,” he calls after you, his voice carrying a strange mix of irritation and delight. “I love it.”

You find yourself in a small kitchen, the counters cluttered with decades of dust and grime. You grab a drawer handle, yanking it open to reveal a collection of rusted utensils. Your trembling fingers close around a knife, and you whirl around just in time as he bursts through the doorway.

He lunges at you, and you slash wildly. The blade grazes his arm, and he lets out a sharp hiss of pain. For a moment, you see him falter, but then he laughs—low and rich, like he’s genuinely enjoying this.

“Feisty as ever,” he says, clutching his arm, his stance relaxed despite the blood seeping through his sleeve. “You make this so much fun.”

You don’t waste time responding, instead darting past him again. His hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist, and for a brief moment, you’re yanked back against him. His grip is ironclad, and you twist and thrash, trying to break free.

“Caught you,” he murmurs, his voice soft, almost tender. “You know, it’s so sweet for me when I finally catch you.”

“Let go of me!” you scream, your free hand clawing at his arm, but he only chuckles, his mask tilting down as if he’s watching you with amusement.

“Why would I let you go? You’re the prize, sweetheart.”

Fueled by anger and fear, you stomp hard on his foot. He grunts, his grip loosening just enough for you to wrench yourself free. You sprint out of the kitchen, back into the endless maze of hallways. You hear his laughter behind you, echoing through the house like a sinister melody.

“You can run all you want,” he calls out, his tone teasing, almost playful.

You whip around a corner, slamming a door shut behind you and locking it. Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, pressing your ear to the door. His footsteps grow louder, then stop right outside.

“You’re not bad at this,” he says through the door, his voice muffled but still unsettlingly calm. “But I’m better.”

The knob rattles, and you back away, searching the room for anything you can use to defend yourself. Your eyes land on a metal curtain rod, and you grab it just as the door bursts open. He steps inside, his shoulders squared, his head tilted like he’s enjoying the sight of you scrambling.

“Stay back!” you shout, holding the rod in front of you like a spear.

He pauses, then raises his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll play along.”

But the moment you lunge at him, he sidesteps effortlessly, grabbing the rod and yanking it out of your hands. You stumble, and before you can react, his arms are around you again, pinning you against his chest.

“Got you,” he whispers, his voice soft but dripping with satisfaction. His grip tightens as you thrash, his laugh rumbling against your back. “You’re such a fighter. That’s what makes you so perfect.”

“What the hell is your problem?” you shout, your voice cracking with frustration and fear.

He leans down, his masked face close to your ear. “You,” he says simply, his tone almost reverent. “You’re my problem. My reward.”

That word sends a chill down your spine, and your instincts kick in. You throw your head back, slamming it into his mask. He stumbles, momentarily dazed, and you break free once more, running with every ounce of strength you have left.

The chase continues, his footsteps never far behind, his laughter haunting every turn. But one thing is clear: he’s not just chasing you for sport.

You burst into another hallway, your lungs burning from the effort. Your legs feel heavy, but adrenaline keeps you moving. The sound of his footsteps behind you is relentless, echoing through the abandoned house like a predator stalking its prey. Every step sends a fresh wave of panic through your body.

Your eyes dart around, searching for an escape, a weapon, anything that could give you the upper hand. You spot a door slightly ajar to your left and dive into the room, quickly pressing your back against the wall. Your breaths come fast and shallow, your body trembling as you strain to hear his movements.

The footsteps stop.

The silence is deafening, wrapping around you like a vice. You clamp a hand over your mouth, trying to muffle the sound of your breathing. A creak comes from the hallway, followed by his voice—low, teasing, and far too calm.

"You're so close," he singsongs. "I know it."

You grit your teeth, the urge to cry nearly overwhelming, but you swallow it down. This isn’t the time to panic. You inch toward the edge of the doorway, peeking out just enough to see his shadow moving across the opposite wall. He’s taking his time, dragging it out like he’s savoring the chase.

You step back into the room, your hands fumbling in the darkness for something—anything—that can help. Your fingers brush against a broken table leg lying on the ground. It’s splintered and rough, but it’s better than nothing. You grab it, holding it tightly, readying yourself for his inevitable arrival.

And then you hear it—a faint creak right behind you.

You spin around, swinging the table leg wildly, but it hits nothing but air. He’s standing there, just out of reach, his white mask tilted slightly as if he’s amused by your attempt to defend yourself.

“You’re getting predictable,” he says, his tone almost playful.

“Stay back!” you shout, your voice trembling but firm.

He takes a step closer, his boots crunching against the old wooden floor. “You’re not really in a position to give orders, are you?”

You swing again, but he moves too fast, ducking under your attack and closing the distance between you in an instant. His gloved hand grabs the makeshift weapon, yanking it from your grasp and tossing it aside like it’s nothing.

Before you can react, he’s on you, his hands gripping your wrists and slamming you against the wall. The force knocks the air out of your lungs, and you struggle against him, but his grip is like steel.

“There it is,” he murmurs, his voice low and almost affectionate. “That fire in your eyes. I love it.”

“Let me go!” you scream, kicking at him, but he easily avoids your strikes, his body pressed too close for you to gain any leverage.

He tilts his head, studying you like you’re some kind of puzzle he’s desperate to solve. “Why would I do that? We’re having so much fun.”

“You’re insane,” you spit, your voice shaking with anger and fear.

He chuckles softly, his gloved hand brushing a strand of hair out of your face. The gesture is oddly gentle, a stark contrast to the violence of the situation. “Maybe,” he says, his tone almost contemplative. “But you make it worth it.”

Summoning every ounce of strength you have left, you lift your knee sharply, aiming for his stomach. He grunts, his grip loosening just enough for you to shove him back and dart past him.

You don’t look back as you run, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest. The house feels endless, the hallways stretching on forever, but you don’t stop. You can’t stop.

Behind you, his laughter rings out, cold and unhinged. “Run all you want!” he calls after you.

You burst into another room, slamming the door shut and locking it behind you. Your eyes dart around, searching for an exit, but all you see are boarded-up windows and a single, dusty wardrobe in the corner.

The door rattles violently, and you back away, your body trembling as the lock starts to give way.

You find an old crowbar leaning against the wall. Without hesitation, you grab it and rush to the boarded-up window. The wood is old and brittle, but the panic coursing through your veins gives you strength as you wedge the crowbar between the planks and pry them loose, one by one.

The door behind you shakes violently as he slams into it again and again, each hit sending splinters flying from the frame.

“Hurry, hurry,” you mutter under your breath, sweat dripping down your temple as the final plank falls free.

You look through the shattered glass and gasp. The drop is much higher than you anticipated—two stories at least. Your heart sinks, but the sight of thick, overgrown bushes below gives you a sliver of hope. You glance back just in time to see the door burst open, the lock snapping off entirely.

There he stands, his chest rising and falling as if the chase had been a thrill for him, the white mask gleaming in the dim light. The way he tilts his head, slowly and deliberately, makes your stomach turn.

"Going somewhere?" he teases, taking a step forward.

Without thinking, you climb onto the ledge, gripping the sides of the window for balance. The cool night air bites at your skin, and your heart races as you glance down at the bushes.

“Don’t,” he warns, his voice sharp now, losing the playful edge.

You don’t wait for him to finish whatever twisted thing he was about to say. Instead, you suck in a deep breath and leap.

The air rushes past you, the world spinning for a split second before you crash into the bushes below. The impact knocks the wind out of you, branches scratching your arms and legs as you tumble through the foliage. For a moment, you lie there, stunned, your lungs burning as you try to catch your breath.

Above you, his figure appears in the window. He doesn’t follow immediately; instead, he leans out, watching you with a predatory stillness that makes your skin crawl.

"You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?" he calls, his voice echoing in the night air.

Ignoring him, you scramble to your feet, your muscles screaming in protest. The bushes have softened the fall, but you’re bruised and battered.

You take off running, your feet pounding against the uneven ground. The house looms behind you, its shadow stretching out like it’s trying to pull you back. The grocery bag left behind.

The house’s silhouette fades into the distance as you sprint down the overgrown path, branches snagging at your clothes and sharp stones biting into the soles of your shoes. The air is cold, sharp, but it does nothing to dull the heat of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

For a moment, the only sound is your ragged breathing and the thundering of your heart in your ears. The silence feels eerie—too quiet. Your instincts scream at you to keep going, but a flicker of doubt slows your pace.

That’s when you hear it.

The heavy thud of footsteps slamming against the ground, gaining on you.

You risk a glance over your shoulder, and your blood runs cold. He’s there, his long strides closing the gap between you. The mask hides his expression, but his posture, the way his shoulders hunch slightly forward in pursuit, tells you everything: he’s not letting you go.

“Run faster,” he taunts, his voice carrying through the still night air. It’s playful, like he’s enjoying the chase.

Fear electrifies your limbs, pushing you to move faster. The path ahead disappears into a thick forest, the tree line dark and menacing under the faint moonlight. You hesitate for just a second, but the sound of his footsteps—closer now—leaves you no choice.

You dart into the woods, branches whipping at your face and tearing at your jacket. The uneven forest floor threatens to trip you with every step, but you refuse to stop. The tall trees feel suffocating, their shadows long and jagged, closing in on you as if the forest itself is conspiring with him.

His footsteps follow, crunching leaves and snapping twigs. He’s still behind you, relentless. The sound is maddening, his pace steady, like he knows he’ll catch you eventually.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he calls out, his voice unnervingly calm now. “You can’t hide from me.”

You stumble over a root, barely catching yourself on a nearby tree. Gritting your teeth, you push forward, weaving through the trees, hoping the dense forest will slow him down.

Your lungs burn, your legs ache, but you can’t stop—not when you can still hear him.

Then, up ahead, you spot a small clearing. You race toward it, desperate for open space, for anything that might give you an advantage.

But as you burst into the clearing, you realize your mistake. It’s a dead end, surrounded by towering rock formations on three sides.

Panic grips you as you spin around, searching for another path. The forest is silent again, but it’s the kind of silence that makes your skin crawl. You know he’s there, watching.

And then he steps into the clearing, his figure tall and imposing against the dark backdrop of the trees. The mask tilts slightly, like he’s studying you, savoring the moment.

“You’re making this so much more exciting than I imagined,” he says, his voice low and smooth, almost like a purr. He takes a step closer, the blade glinting faintly in his hand.

You back away, your chest heaving, your mind racing for a way out. But the rocks block any escape, and the forest behind him feels like a trap.

“Don’t look so scared,” he says, taking another step forward. “You’ve been so clever tonight. It’s almost a shame it has to end.”

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to think.

Your back presses against the cold rock, the jagged surface biting into your skin through your jacket. Your breaths come in sharp gasps, your chest heaving as you try to think. Anything. A way out. A distraction.

He steps closer, his boots crunching on the forest floor, deliberate and unhurried. He knows you have nowhere to go. He tilts his head, studying you like a predator savoring its prey.

“You know,” he says, voice dripping with mock affection, “you really are something else. I’ve chased plenty before, but none of them…” He pauses, gesturing toward you with the knife, “…none of them made my heart race quite like this.”

You feel your stomach churn, the sheer audacity of his words igniting a spark of anger amidst your fear. But there’s no time for a retort—he’s only a few steps away now.

His eyes—hidden behind the mask—feel like they’re boring into your soul. You glance around the clearing, searching for anything that could be used as a weapon. A stick, a rock, anything.

He notices your shifting gaze and chuckles. “What’s the plan now? Going to throw a pebble at me?”

Focus, you tell yourself, swallowing the lump of fear rising in your throat.

When he’s close enough, you act on impulse. You crouch low, grabbing a fist-sized rock near your feet. With all your strength, you hurl it at him.

He reacts quickly, dodging the rock with ease, his body twisting to the side. But it’s the distraction you needed. As he recovers, you dart to the side, aiming for the gap between him and the edge of the forest.

He’s fast—faster than you expect. You feel his hand graze your arm as you slip past him, but you manage to keep running, your feet pounding against the dirt as you plunge back into the dense trees.

“You’re just delaying the inevitable!” he shouts behind you, his voice tinged with amusement but also frustration.

You don’t stop. The forest is darker now, the moonlight barely penetrating the canopy above. Every branch that snaps under your feet feels like a signal to him, guiding him closer.

Your lungs burn, and your legs threaten to give out, but the primal need to survive keeps you moving. Then, in the distance, you spot it—lights. Faint, flickering, but unmistakable. A cabin? A campsite? You can’t be sure, but it’s hope.

You push yourself harder, your eyes locked on the distant glow. But the footsteps behind you grow louder, closer. He’s gaining on you.

And then—crash. You trip over a root, your body slamming into the ground with a force that knocks the air from your lungs. Pain radiates through your knees and palms as you scramble to get up, dirt caked on your hands.

Before you can move, his boot slams down on the ground beside you, the blade of his knife glinting as he crouches down.

“There you are,” he says softly, his voice dripping with mock relief, as if he’s found something precious. His hand reaches out, grabbing your wrist before you can crawl away.

“Let me go!” you scream, kicking and thrashing. One of your punches lands on his chest and he grunts in pain, momentarily loosening his grip.

You seize the chance, wriggling free and stumbling to your feet. Your eyes dart back to the lights in the distance, and you take off running again, ignoring the burning pain in your legs and the pounding in your chest.

“You’re just making me want you more!” he shouts after you, the words sending a fresh wave of terror coursing through your veins.

The lights grow brighter as you draw closer. You don’t know who or what you’ll find there, but it’s your only chance. Please, you think desperately, please let someone be there.

Behind you, his footsteps quicken, and you know he’s not far.

You don’t even hear him closing the distance behind you until it’s too late. A hand suddenly clamps over your mouth, muffling the scream that instinctively rises in your throat. His other arm snakes around your waist, locking you against his chest like iron.

Your heart pounds wildly as you thrash and kick, but he’s too strong, dragging you backward as if your struggling means nothing.

“Caught you,” he murmurs in a low, almost amused tone, his breath brushing against your ear.

The lights in the distance—your last shred of hope—fade further and further away as he drags you back toward the clearing. The forest seems darker now, the shadows deeper, closing in around you as if they’re working with him.

When he reaches the clearing, he wastes no time. He throws you down to the ground with a force that knocks the wind out of you. Your back hits the dirt, and before you can even think about scrambling away, he’s on top of you, one hand pinning your wrists above your head, the other pressing firmly against your shoulder to keep you in place.

“Stop squirming,” he growls, his tone no longer playful. It’s sharp, commanding, like he’s finally losing patience.

You try to buck him off, twisting your body and kicking your legs, but he doesn’t budge. His weight presses down on you, and the knife in his hand gleams in the faint moonlight.

“I really don’t want to hurt you,” he says, his voice softening into something unsettlingly tender. His free hand brushes a strand of hair out of your face, his gloved fingers lingering against your skin. “But you’re making it so difficult.”

You glare up at him, fire burning in your eyes despite the fear gripping your chest.

“God, I love that,” he says with a low chuckle. “That fight in you. You don’t even realize how much you stand out, do you? How much more alive you are compared to everyone else I’ve met.”

His words send a chill down your spine. You thrash again, but he only tightens his grip on your wrists, leaning in closer until his masked face is mere inches from yours.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he whispers, his tone almost mocking. “You should be thanking me. If it weren’t for me, you’d still be just another nobody. But now…” He trails off, tilting his head as if he’s admiring a work of art.

You turn your head to the side, biting down hard on the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from crying out in frustration or fear.

“Look at me,” he demands, his voice low but firm. When you don’t comply, his grip on your wrists tightens painfully, making you wince.

You turn your head back to glare at him, hatred burning in your eyes.

“There she is,” he says softly, almost reverently. “That fire… Don’t ever lose that.”

The knife in his hand flashes as he moves it closer, and for a horrifying moment, you think he’s going to stab you. But instead, he presses the flat of the blade against your cheek, the cold metal sending a shiver through your body.

“You’re mine,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “And no matter how far you run or how hard you fight, I’ll always catch you.”

You grit your teeth, your mind racing for a way out. He’s too strong, too fast—but maybe, just maybe, you can use his arrogance against him.

“Go to hell,” you spit, your voice trembling but defiant.

His laughter fills the clearing, low and dark, as if your defiance only fuels his twisted amusement. “Oh, sweetheart,” he says, leaning in closer, his mask nearly brushing your forehead. “Hell is wherever you aren’t.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, the weight of them suffocating. His voice is smooth, almost sweet, but the malice behind it is unmistakable. You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, fighting the fear clawing its way through your chest.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” he murmurs, tilting his head as if observing you from a new angle. “You can run, you can fight, but in the end, it’s always going to be me and you. No one else matters.”

Your breath catches as his gloved fingers trail down your cheek, the contact both gentle and deeply unsettling. You flinch away, but the weight of his body keeps you pinned to the ground.

“Still so stubborn,” he muses, almost fondly. “It’s adorable, really. Makes this so much more satisfying.”

You glare up at him, your jaw clenched tightly. You feel your pulse pounding in your ears as your mind races, searching for any way to escape. His grip isn’t as firm now—his arrogance has left an opening, and you have to act fast.

With a burst of adrenaline, you jerk your knee upward, slamming it into his stomach. The air leaves his lungs in a sharp gasp, and his grip on you falters just enough for you to slip free.

You don’t waste a second. Scrambling to your feet, you push past him and take off running, your heart pounding so loudly it drowns out everything else.

Behind you, his laughter rings out again, low and cruel, but you don’t dare look back.

“Run, sweetheart!” he calls after you, his voice laced with dark amusement. “Let’s see how far you get this time!”

You tear through the forest, the branches clawing at your arms and face. The air is cold and sharp in your lungs, but you don’t stop. You can’t.

The sound of his footsteps behind you sends a fresh wave of terror through your veins. He’s faster than you, more experienced in this game of cat and mouse. But you refuse to let him win.

As you weave through the trees, you spot a cluster of rocks up ahead—jagged and uneven, but large enough to provide some cover. Without hesitation, you dive behind them, crouching low and trying to steady your breathing.

The footsteps slow, then stop.

“Where are you, little mouse?” his voice calls out, taunting and playful. “I know you’re close.”

You press a hand over your mouth to muffle your breathing, your entire body trembling. He’s so close you can hear the crunch of leaves under his boots as he moves.

“You can hide all you want,” he says, his tone almost sing-song. “But you’ll come back to me eventually. You always do.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to steady your racing thoughts. There has to be a way out of this. There has to be.

The sound of his footsteps fades slightly as he moves further into the forest, but you know it’s only a matter of time before he circles back. You glance around, your eyes darting between the trees and the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the canopy.

Then you see it—a narrow path winding down the hill, almost invisible beneath the dense foliage. It’s risky, but it might be your only shot.

Summoning every ounce of courage, you take a deep breath and bolt from your hiding spot, darting toward the path as silently as you can.

But his laughter follows you again, closer this time, chilling and relentless.

“Oh, there you are!” he exclaims, and the sound of his footsteps erupts behind you once more.

Panic surges through you as you sprint down the path, the uneven ground threatening to trip you with every step.

You darted down the narrow path, your smaller frame weaving effortlessly through the low-hanging branches and dense underbrush. Every breath felt like fire in your lungs, but you had gained some distance. His heavier, taller frame wasn’t as agile as yours, giving you the upper hand in this chase—at least for now.

Your mind raced as you spotted a small clearing ahead. You knew you couldn’t keep running forever; he was relentless, and eventually, he’d catch up. But you had something he didn’t: creativity and a desperate will to survive.

Scanning the area quickly, you noticed a tangle of vines hanging from a low branch, some loose rocks scattered on the ground, and a sturdy fallen tree trunk. An idea sparked in your mind, and you didn’t hesitate.

Grabbing the vines, you tugged them free from the branch and looped them across the path at ankle height, tying them tightly between two trees. Next, you placed the rocks strategically along the trail, half-buried in the dirt to make them harder to spot. Finally, you pushed the fallen tree trunk to the edge of the path, balancing it precariously against a rock, so the slightest nudge would send it rolling.

You heard his footsteps approaching fast, his taunting voice cutting through the silence.

“Getting tired, sweetheart? You’re making this too easy!”

You ducked behind a thick tree trunk, your heart pounding in your chest. You clutched a thick branch in your hands, ready to fight if your trap didn’t work.

The sound of his boots hitting the ground grew louder until you saw his dark figure barreling toward the clearing. He didn’t slow down, too focused on chasing you to notice the subtle trap you’d set.

The moment his foot caught the vine, he stumbled forward, his balance thrown off. His boot slammed into one of the hidden rocks, sending him lurching sideways. Before he could recover, the fallen tree trunk tipped over and rolled directly toward him.

“Shit!” he snarled, barely dodging the trunk as it crashed into the ground.

The commotion gave you the distraction you needed. While he cursed and scrambled to his feet, you slipped away, keeping low and moving as quietly as possible.

You didn’t stop until you found yourself on the edge of the forest, the dim glow of the streetlights in the distance signaling safety. Gasping for breath, you spotted your abandoned grocery bag near the roadside. Without thinking, you grabbed it, clutching it tightly to your chest like a lifeline.

Reaching into your pocket, your fingers fumbled over the smooth surface of your phone. Relief surged through you as you unlocked it, your shaking hands dialing the police.

The line rang twice before a calm voice answered. “Emergency services, what’s your location?”

“I… I’m near the forest,” you stammered, your voice trembling. “There’s—there’s someone chasing me. He’s dangerous. Please, you have to send help!”

“Stay on the line,” the operator said firmly. “Officers are on their way. Can you describe the man?”

You glanced back at the dark forest, half-expecting to see that white mask emerge from the shadows. “He’s… tall. He’s wearing black, and he has a mask. Please, hurry!”

“Stay where you are, and keep yourself safe,” the operator instructed.

You nodded, even though they couldn’t see you, clutching the phone tightly as you kept your eyes fixed on the forest’s edge. Your body trembled with exhaustion and fear, but you refused to let your guard down.

In the distance, you heard the faint wail of sirens. Help was coming. You just had to hold on a little longer.

As the sound of the sirens grew louder, you felt a flicker of relief—hope that maybe, just maybe, this nightmare was coming to an end. You stood rooted to the spot, your breath shaky and uneven, staring at the dark line of trees, half-expecting him to step out at any second.

The grocery bag in your arms felt like dead weight now, but you couldn’t bring yourself to let go of it. It was the only thing grounding you in reality amidst the chaos.

Suddenly, a rustle came from the forest’s edge. Your heart leapt into your throat, and your entire body stiffened. There he was.

He didn’t move closer—he just stood there, half-hidden by the shadows, watching you.

You stumbled back, gripping your phone tighter. “The police are coming!” you yelled, your voice cracking. “You’re done!”

He cocked his head, unmoved by your words, his hand slowly reaching up to adjust the mask as if to taunt you.

The sirens were deafening now, blue and red lights flashing in the distance. A police car screeched to a halt at the curb, two officers stepping out quickly, their hands hovering near their holsters.

“He’s there!” you shouted, pointing toward the forest.

But when you turned back, he was gone. The trees were still, the shadows undisturbed. It was as if he had disappeared into thin air.

One of the officers approached you cautiously, his flashlight scanning the area. “Miss, are you hurt?”

You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper. “He was right there. He… he was watching me.”

The second officer moved toward the forest’s edge, his flashlight sweeping across the trees. “We’ll check the area,” he said, motioning for his partner to follow.

They disappeared into the woods, leaving you standing by the police car. The operator on the phone was still speaking, but their words sounded distant, drowned out by the pounding of your heart.

A few minutes later, the officers returned, shaking their heads. “We didn’t see anyone,” one of them said. “But there are clear signs of movement in the brush. We’ll keep searching.”

“He’s out there,” you insisted, your voice trembling. “He’s the one who… who killed those kids. He tried to kill me!”

The officer nodded, his expression serious. “We believe you. We’ll make sure the area is secured. Do you have somewhere safe to stay tonight?”

You hesitated, glancing down at your phone. Ni-ki’s name flashed across the screen in a text notification. For a brief moment, you considered calling him, but then you shook your head. This wasn’t something you wanted to drag anyone else into—not him, not anyone.

“I’ll be fine,” you lied, your voice barely steady.

The officers exchanged a look but didn’t push further. “We’ll escort you home,” one of them said, opening the passenger door of the car for you.

You climbed in, clutching the grocery bag like a lifeline as the car pulled away. Through the window, you stared back at the forest, half-expecting to see that mask watching you from the shadows again.

But there was nothing.

Just the trees, silent and still.

--

You lay in bed, the blankets twisted around your body, but the warmth of them did nothing to calm the chill that had settled deep in your bones. Your phone sat on the nightstand, screen glowing softly in the dark, but you hadn’t looked at it in what felt like hours.

Every time you closed your eyes, the image of that mask—the twisted, mocking grin—seemed to float in your mind, just out of reach. You could almost hear his voice in your head, low and smooth, the way he’d whispered into your ear, the way he’d taunted you. “Hell is wherever you aren’t.”

The words had haunted you all evening.

You had tried to shake them off, to bury them beneath the numbing exhaustion that should have come with the adrenaline you’d been running on, but your body refused to cooperate. Even with the police’s reassurances, you couldn’t stop the feeling that something was still lurking just beyond the edge of your awareness.

What if he was still out there? What if he had been watching you tonight, too? The thought of it made your pulse race, your heart thumping too loud in the silence of your room.

You grabbed your phone, staring at it in your hands, weighing whether to text Ni-ki. He had sent you a message earlier, asking if you were okay, but you hadn’t responded. Part of you wanted to reach out, wanted to tell him everything, but another part—no, a bigger part—didn’t want to drag him into this any deeper. He didn’t deserve it.

You tossed the phone aside and stared up at the ceiling, the quiet of your apartment settling around you like a heavy blanket, thick and suffocating. The rain had started up again, tapping lightly against your window. You listened to the rhythmic pattering, your mind drifting in and out of awareness, trying to push away the lingering fear.

It wasn’t long before the sound of the doorbell echoed through the apartment.

Your heart leapt into your throat, your whole body freezing, every muscle stiffening at once. The sound of the doorbell, so sharp and unexpected, felt like an intrusion, a sign of something you couldn't escape.

You waited, breath held, listening for footsteps. But there was nothing. Not at first. Just the sound of rain falling and the eerie quiet of the house.

Then, a faint knock at the door. Three taps.

You didn't move. Didn't even breathe.

And that's when your phone buzzed, the text you had been avoiding lighting up the screen.

"Are you okay? Please let me know."

You knew it was Ni-ki. His concern was so evident in the words, the kind of concern that made your heart ache. You felt a wave of guilt rise in your chest.

But that knock, those taps on the door—they wouldn’t go away.

Your heart hammered in your chest as the knock echoed again. You sat frozen, unsure of what to do, your mind racing with possibilities. Was it him? The killer, the masked figure who had haunted your every step since that night? Or was it someone else—someone who could help you, someone who had heard your silent cries for help?

You reached for your phone, your fingers trembling as you unlocked it and quickly typed a response to Ni-ki.

I’m okay. Just… a little freaked out. I’ll be fine.

You hesitated before sending it, but the longer you sat there, the more you realized you couldn't keep the fear buried. You needed help, but you didn’t want to drag him into this. You didn’t want him to be in danger, especially when you didn’t know who or what was on the other side of that door.

But the knocking continued. Three slow, deliberate taps again. This time, it felt more urgent. Like whoever was out there knew you were in the apartment.

You moved cautiously to the window, peeking through the blinds to see if there was anyone outside. The rain had let up slightly, but it was still dark, the street barely visible in the dim light from the streetlamp. There was no sign of anyone.

Still, the knocking continued.

Your mind raced. Could you trust it?

You quietly moved to the door, pressing your ear against it, listening for any sounds from the other side. The knocking had stopped, and the silence stretched on for a few moments, stretching your nerves thinner with each passing second.

Then, without warning, the door handle jiggled. You stiffened, holding your breath as you backed away.

Whoever was out there was waiting.

You reached for the lock, your hands shaking, and with a quiet click, you turned it. Just as you were about to open the door, you heard a faint voice, soft but clear.

“Y/N?”

Your heart skipped a beat. The voice was familiar.

You opened the door, and there he was. Ni-ki. Standing in your doorway, looking concerned, his expression soft but full of worry. His eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of distress.

“You… you came?” You whispered, surprised and relieved all at once.

Ni-ki stepped inside, closing the door gently behind him. “I got worried,” he said quietly, his voice low.

You nodded, a wave of relief washing over you. But before you could speak, Ni-ki’s eyes caught something on the table—your phone, with his message still displayed.

His expression faltered slightly, his eyes lingering on the text as if searching for the truth behind it.

“Are you really okay?” he asked softly, stepping closer to you. “I know you said you were fine, but… I’m not sure I believe that.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, but you managed a weak smile, trying to reassure him. “I’m okay now… I’m just… I’ve been a little scared, that’s all.”

Ni-ki didn’t say anything. He simply walked over to you, and without another word, he wrapped his arms around you.

Ni-ki gently guided you to the couch, his touch reassuring and steady as he helped you sit down. The weight of everything—of the fear, the tension, the uncertainty—finally began to crash down on you all at once. You buried your face in your hands, your shoulders trembling as the tears you’d been holding back for so long finally spilled over.

Ni-ki sat next to you, his presence calm and warm, like a shelter from the storm. He didn’t say anything at first, just let you cry, the sound of your sobs the only noise between the two of you. His hand found its way to your back, rubbing slow, comforting circles, as he whispered softly to you.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and gentle. “I’m here.”

His words wrapped around you like a blanket, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself lean into the comfort. The tears flowed freely, the weight of everything you’d been through crashing over you in waves, but there was no judgment, no rushing to make you feel better.

“I know it’s been so hard,” Ni-ki continued, his voice steady and warm. “But I promise, I’m not going anywhere.”

You nodded, the sobs slowly beginning to subside as his words sank in.

His thumb brushed over the back of your hand, the gesture simple but grounding. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I swear.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I didn’t want to burden you with all of this. I didn’t want you to have to deal with my… my fear.”

Ni-ki shook his head, his eyes softening. “Hey, don’t apologize. You’re not a burden. You’re my friend, and you mean more to me than anything. I don’t care what’s going on, I’m not leaving you to deal with it alone.”

His words wrapped around you like a lifeline, and you felt a warmth that cut through the cold fear still lingering in your chest.

"Thank you," you whispered, the words barely more than a breath. "I don’t know what I would’ve done without you."

Ni-ki gave you a soft, reassuring smile. "You don’t have to. I’ll always be here for you."

After he put on a movie, its soft glow illuminating the room, you felt yourself slowly relaxing next to Ni-ki. The weight of everything still lingered in the back of your mind, but his presence beside you—calm, steady, unwavering—made it easier to breathe, to forget, even if just for a little while. The tension in your body began to ease as the gentle hum of the movie filled the space, and before you even realized it, your eyelids grew heavy.

You shifted slightly, curling up against the couch, subconsciously inching closer to Ni-ki, the warmth of his body providing comfort. It wasn’t long before you drifted off, the quiet rhythm of his breathing lulling you into a deep, peaceful sleep.

Ni-ki, noticing your soft exhale, glanced down at you, a small, amused smirk curling at the corners of his lips. You were so still, so vulnerable in your sleep. His gaze softened as he studied you, his fingers gently brushing the strands of hair that fell across your face, tucking them behind your ear.

His heart beat faster as he took in the sight of you, lying so trustingly beside him, completely unaware of the way his eyes roamed over you. His fingers lingered, caressing your skin. He admired the way your features softened in sleep, how relaxed you looked.

“I’d do anything to make sure you’re always by my side.” He whispered, his voice low, barely audible.

His smirk deepened, his thumb lightly grazing your cheek. “You’re far too precious to let anyone else have you.”

He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered into your ear, “I’ll protect you, forever. You’re my treasure, and I won’t let anyone take you away. Not now, not ever.”

Ni-ki pulled you a little closer, adjusting your position so you were nestled more comfortably against him, and he rested his head against the back of the couch, keeping his gaze fixed on you. The way you slept so soundly in his arms sent a strange rush of satisfaction through him.

Ni-ki's fingers gently brushed over your hair, his touch tender as he continued to gaze at you. His mind raced with thoughts, each one swirling around the way you looked so peaceful, so trusting, in his arms. There was a sense of calm that settled over him too, a deep, almost primal satisfaction in knowing you were there—safe, protected, and unaware of the way his heart beat faster with each passing moment.

He shifted slightly, careful not to disturb you, as his gaze moved from your peaceful face to the way you nestled against him. The warmth of your body, the slow rise and fall of your chest, all of it made him feel something deep within, something that told him, you’re mine. His fingers slid down your arm, brushing lightly against your skin as if to remind himself that you were right here, with him.

He wasn’t sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way, his feelings for you had become so much more than just care or friendship. You had a hold on him—one that was impossible to ignore, impossible to break free from. He’d always been protective of you, sure, but now, as he looked at you sleeping so soundly, he realized how much deeper his attachment had grown.

A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. "Rest now," he whispered, barely audible, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the perfect moment. "I’ll take care of everything. You don’t have to worry about a thing."

The way you fit against him, how natural it felt to have you there, was enough to make his heart ache in the best way. You had no idea how much he needed you, how much he wanted to keep you close, but he would make sure you felt that care every single day.

He wasn’t going to let go of this moment—not yet, not ever. He would make sure you were safe and happy. You were his world now, and he would do anything to keep it that way.

--

As the days passed, you started to notice two things. The first was that Ni-ki seemed to be… everywhere. Whether it was during lunch, between classes, or after school, he was always by your side. It wasn’t just that he was constantly close to you; he somehow made sure that no matter what, your attention was on him. Even when you tried to talk to your friends, he'd find a way to insert himself into the conversation, either by cracking a joke or pulling you away with a light touch on your arm, directing your attention back to him. e was making sure he had some kind of excuse to keep you close—whether it was an excuse to study together, a reason to walk you to your next class, or just a casual invitation to hang out after school. He was clingy, yes, but it didn’t feel suffocating.

The second thing that began to weigh on you was the strange shift happening around the school. It wasn’t a loud change, but it was impossible to ignore. The usual bullies, the ones who would taunt others, pick on those weaker than them, and make life miserable for anyone they considered "lesser," some of them were gone entirely, never seen again. Others were found in a state that was… unsettling. And the ones who still lingered, seemed to have a new fear in their eyes. They were nervous, always looking over their shoulders, as if expecting someone to jump out at them at any moment. You heard hushed whispers in the hallways about how the only people who were being targeted were those who’d tormented others—bullies who had crossed a line and had paid the price for it.

It wasn’t just idle gossip anymore. There was a clear pattern forming—those who’d been mean, those who had taken pleasure in others' pain, were the ones disappearing or found dead. And no one wanted to be the next victim. It was almost like there was a sense of fear hanging in the air, suffocating the usual bravado that these students carried.

One afternoon, as you sat with Ni-ki in the cafeteria, you couldn't help but notice the change in the atmosphere. The usual suspects who would pick fights or belittle others were nowhere to be seen. A few students whispered nervously, glancing at the empty seats where the loudest voices used to sit. Ni-ki, ever the observant one, seemed to catch on to your unease and leaned closer, his voice low as he spoke, “It’s strange, isn’t it? How quiet it is now. Not many people causing trouble anymore.”

You glanced over at him, slightly startled by his words, but the look on his face was almost… satisfied. It was as if he knew more than he was letting on. "Yeah," you said quietly, lowering your voice, "I haven’t seen some of them around lately. It’s… like they’re just gone."

Ni-ki smirked slightly, a glint of something dark in his eyes, but he didn’t comment further. Instead, he reached for your hand, gently brushing his fingers against yours as if to reassure you, but also claiming you in his own quiet way. “People like them never last long. They always get what's coming to them.”

You looked at Ni-ki, about to say something, to defend the idea that not everyone deserved what was happening. But as you paused and really thought about it, the words didn’t come. What could you really say in defense of them? The bullies at school had picked on others without mercy, with no regard for the pain they caused. They had gone out of their way to hurt people, and more than once, you had seen how cruel and relentless they could be. They never showed any sympathy. So why should you feel sympathy for them now?

The thought sat uneasily in your chest, but you couldn’t find the words to oppose what Ni-ki had said. Instead, you turned your attention back to your lunch, pushing the food around on your plate without much appetite. You shrugged casually, as if the whole thing didn’t matter to you.

But in that moment, Ni-ki's grin grew wider, a silent triumph flickering in his eyes. He’d been watching you closely, sensing that shift in your mindset, and now, he had won this silent battle. You didn’t argue. You didn’t fight him on it.

For a moment, you felt his gaze linger on you, as if trying to decipher the change within you. His fingers tightened around your hand just a little, a subtle claim, as if to mark his success.

“Good,” he said softly, almost under his breath, as he leaned back in his chair, still watching you with a look of quiet satisfaction.

You were barely aware of how much Ni-ki had already influenced you—how much his presence and his words had started to shape your thoughts. You couldn’t deny that you felt a strange sense of security when you were around him, a feeling that only grew stronger with each passing day.

As the lunch bell rang and people started to get up, you stood with him, quietly gathering your things. Ni-ki followed you out of the cafeteria, his presence close behind you, and you didn’t voice it, you didn’t mind having him by your side. Not one bit.

The days blurred together, and without realizing it, Ni-ki’s influence over you deepened. It started small, with offhand comments he’d make during class or when you were walking home together, words that felt comforting at the time, like whispers of protection. “No one understand you like I do,” he’d say, casually brushing your hair out of your face or squeezing your hand.

At first, it was easy to dismiss. A small comment here and there, a quiet reassurance that you weren’t alone. But slowly, those comments became more frequent, more insistent. Ni-ki’s voice seemed to crawl into your mind during the quiet moments when you were alone, when the noise of the world faded away.

“You don’t need them,” he’d tell you, his voice soft but certain. “They only want something from you. They don’t care about you, not like I do.”

It was subtle at first—just little seeds of doubt about the people around you, people you had known for years. The classmates who had once made you feel safe now started to feel like strangers, like people who would only bring harm.

The bullies, those who had tormented you and others for so long, would occasionally come to you, apologies on their lips or fake smiles plastered on their faces. They’d try to beg for your forgiveness, as though everything could just be forgotten with a few words. You had tried to be kind, to forgive them in the past, but now? Now it felt wrong. Ni-ki’s words echoed in your mind every time one of them came near.

“You don’t owe them anything,” he’d whisper. “They don’t deserve your kindness. Don’t be fooled by their fake apologies.”

And so, you didn’t. You turned away, ignoring their desperate attempts to make amends, not feeling guilty or conflicted anymore. They didn’t deserve your forgiveness. They hadn’t earned it, not after everything they had put you through.

But it wasn’t just the bullies. Ni-ki’s words had woven themselves into your everyday life, shaping your thoughts and actions, slowly erasing the boundaries you once held so firm. He started influencing the way you saw people, the way you interacted with them. Slowly, everything became a reflection of what Ni-ki wanted, a twisted mirror of his desires.

And Ni-ki knew it. Every time you followed his guidance, every time you chose to act in a way that fed into his plans, there was a dark satisfaction in his eyes, a quiet pleasure in his smile.

It was as if he could feel the power he had over you, the way your thoughts bent to his will, the way your heart seemed to beat in time with his words.

“You see?” he’d murmur, that sly smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “The world’s a lot easier when you’re with me, isn’t it?”

You didn’t have the words to fight back. You didn’t even want to anymore.

The more he was with you, the more his words echoed in your mind, the more you realized that the satisfaction he found in your compliance wasn’t just for him. It was for you, too. You wanted to make him proud, to feel his approval. It became your quiet obsession, that each small action you took to please him made you feel good.

The line between what was right and wrong began to blur, as Ni-ki’s influence crept deeper into every part of your life. You found yourself thinking less about what you had always known and more about what Ni-ki told you was true. His twisted view of the world started to become your reality.

And somewhere deep inside, you knew this wasn’t normal. But it felt too good to stop. It felt too easy, too natural to follow him, to listen to his words.

And with every step you took further into his world, Ni-ki’s smile grew just a little wider.

--

The late afternoon sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the streets as you walked home. The air had a faint chill, and your bag felt heavier than usual after the long day spent visiting your family. You adjusted it on your shoulder, absently scrolling through your phone as you neared your apartment.

Suddenly, someone walking toward you collided into your shoulder. The impact jolted your phone from your hands, and it clattered loudly onto the sidewalk. You gasped in surprise, looking up at the person who’d bumped into you.

“Watch where you’re going,” the man snapped, his tone laced with irritation. He didn’t even glance back as he shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets and kept walking, his head bowed against the wind.

Your mouth opened to retort, but you decided against it, your annoyance bubbling silently. With a sigh, you bent down to retrieve your phone, brushing off the faint scratches on its case. Muttering under your breath, you straightened up and continued on your way, your steps quicker now as the fading light seemed to make the streets feel emptier.

But you didn’t get far.

Just a few blocks from your building, you collided with someone again. This time, the impact was sudden and hard enough to make you stumble back a step. “Oh, I’m so sor—” The words barely escaped your lips before you felt something press firmly against your face.

A cloth.

You froze in shock as a strong hand gripped the back of your head, holding the cloth against your nose and mouth. You struggled immediately, panic coursing through your veins. You thrashed, clawing at the arm that held you, your muffled cries lost in the fabric. The sharp, sickly-sweet scent of chemicals invaded your senses, making your vision blur.

Your heart raced as you kicked out, trying to fight against the overwhelming dizziness that began to take hold. Your bag slipped off your shoulder and fell to the ground with a dull thud, but the grip on you didn’t loosen. The person—no, the attacker—held you firmly, their breath steady against your ear as your strength ebbed away.

The world around you dimmed, your arms growing heavy as your movements slowed. Your fingers lost their grip, falling limply to your sides as your knees buckled.

The last thing you felt was the strong arm catching your weight as your consciousness slipped away, the sound of your heart pounding in your ears fading into nothingness.

You woke with a pounding headache, the world spinning as your eyes fluttered open. The smell of damp earth and mildew hit your nose, making your stomach churn. Blinking, you tried to take in your surroundings. It was dimly lit, the flicker of a single bulb swaying from the ceiling casting eerie shadows on the cracked concrete walls.

A chill ran through you as you realized you were sitting on the cold ground, your arms pulled tightly behind you. Panic surged when you tried to move and felt the rough bite of rope against your wrists. You were tied up.

Your heart raced, and you looked around the room. It was then that you noticed them—two figures sitting directly across from you, also bound. One was gagged, their muffled attempts to speak barely audible, while the other sat in stunned silence, their wide eyes staring at the floor as if processing their own horror.

Recognition hit you like a punch to the gut.

The first person was someone you recognized from school, a notorious bully. You’d seen them torment others countless times, their cruel laugh echoing through hallways. They looked disheveled and terrified now, their bravado stripped away as they squirmed uselessly against their bonds.

The second person made your blood run cold. It was the man who had bumped into you on the street, the one who had insulted you without a second thought. His face was pale, his body trembling as he glanced around the room like a caged animal.

“What the hell...” you muttered under your breath, your voice shaky and raw.

Neither of them responded to you directly. The bully’s gag prevented them from saying anything coherent, and the man’s eyes darted nervously between you and the rest of the room.

You tried to calm your breathing, your mind racing for an explanation. Why were you here? Who had brought you here?

Before you could piece things together, a sound broke the tense silence: the creak of a door opening.

Your head snapped toward the far end of the basement, where a narrow staircase led up to a heavy wooden door. The hinges groaned as it slowly swung open, and for a brief moment, the only sound was the faint echo of dripping water from somewhere in the room.

Then, slow, deliberate footsteps descended the stairs.

Your breath hitched as the figure came into view—a familiar white mask catching the dim light, its hollow eyes fixed on the three of you. The killer’s tall, looming form filled the narrow staircase, and your heart plummeted into your stomach.

It was him.

He moved with a terrifying ease, his boots thudding against the worn wooden steps. The bully across from you froze, their muffled cries growing more frantic. The man from the street tried to scoot backward, but his bindings kept him in place.

The killer reached the bottom step, pausing to survey the room.

Then his eyes found you.

“Awake already,” he said, his voice low and smooth, laced with a mockery that made your skin crawl. He stepped closer, the soft scrape of his boots against the concrete amplifying your fear. “I was hoping for a little more suspense, but I guess this works too.”

You couldn’t speak, your throat tightening as he approached. Your heart pounded so loudly you thought it might burst.

The killer stopped just in front of you, towering over you like a shadow. He crouched down slowly and you flinched back instinctively, the ropes biting into your skin.

“Don’t be scared,” he said, almost soothingly. “I’d never hurt you. Not like them.”

He jerked his head toward the others, his tone darkening. “They’re the real problem, aren’t they?”

The bully whimpered, their body trembling violently. The man from the street muttered something incoherent, his face pale with terror.

The killer’s head snapped toward them. “Quiet,” he barked, his voice sharp and commanding. Both of them fell silent instantly.

He turned his attention back to you, his tone softening again. “You don’t belong here with them,” he said, his gloved hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. “But I couldn’t risk letting you get hurt, either.”

You recoiled from his touch.

The killer chuckled, low and dark before standing to his full height. “You’ll thank me someday.”

He turned his back on you, walking toward the bully, who was now shaking their head violently, muffled pleas escaping through the gag. The killer tilted his head, as if considering them.

“You,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain. “The things I’ve seen you do. The way you treat people. It’s pathetic.”

He pulled a knife from his belt, the blade gleaming under the flickering light. Your stomach lurched.

“No,” you said, your voice trembling. “Don’t—”

He turned his head slightly, addressing you without looking back. “Don’t what?” he asked, his tone mockingly sweet. “They deserve it, don’t they? After everything they’ve done? After everything they would’ve done to you if I hadn’t stepped in?”

Your mind raced, panic gripping you. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

You pulled against the ropes desperately, but they didn’t budge. Your heart pounded as you watched the killer raise the knife, his focus solely on the bully.

You couldn’t look away.

The killer crouched over the bully, his movements methodical, almost clinical, as he ran the blade down their arm, leaving a crimson trail. The muffled cries of pain filled the room, mixing with the sound of your own panicked breathing.

“Shh,” the killer whispered, his voice soft, mocking. “We wouldn’t want to disturb anyone, would we?”

The bully’s head shook frantically, tears streaking their face as they squirmed against the restraints. The knife moved again, this time slicing into their leg, and they screamed against the gag, their body convulsing in agony.

You felt frozen, your mind screaming at you to look away, to close your eyes, but you couldn’t. The horrifying scene played out in front of you, each sound, each movement burned into your memory.

The killer leaned in closer to the bully, his head tilting in that unnerving way. “This is what happens,” he murmured, his voice dripping with venom. “This is what you get for being cruel. For thinking you’re untouchable.”

Blood pooled beneath the chair, thick and dark, as the bully’s movements grew weaker. Their muffled screams turned into whimpers, their head lolling forward.

The killer stood up, the knife dripping in his hand. He turned to the other man—the one who had bumped into you earlier. The man’s eyes widened in terror, and he struggled against his bindings, managing to let out a strangled noise.

The killer took slow, deliberate steps toward him, his boots squelching in the blood-soaked floor. The man’s cries grew louder, more frantic, and you could see the pure panic in his eyes.

“Quiet,” the killer snapped, his voice sharp. “It’s your turn, but I promise to make it quick.”

You saw the man try to shout, his body thrashing violently, but the killer moved with chilling efficiency. He raised the knife and plunged it into the man’s chest with a sickening thud.

The man’s body jerked once, his muffled scream cutting off as blood bubbled at his lips. The killer twisted the blade before yanking it out, letting the body slump back into the chair, lifeless.

The room fell into a deafening silence, save for the sound of your ragged breathing and the drip of blood hitting the concrete floor.

Then, slowly, the killer turned towards the bully.

He reached up, fingers hooking under the edge of his mask. You held your breath, your body stiffening as he began to lift it.

The white mask came off in one smooth motion, but from your position, you couldn’t see his face. His back was turned to you, shielding his identity.

What you could see was the reaction of the bully, who weakly lifted their head, their bloodied face twisting in horror. Their eyes widened, and a choked sound escaped their throat—half gasp, half sob.

The killer crouched in front of the bully, setting the mask down beside him. “You should’ve stayed in your place,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

The bully’s lips quivered, as if trying to form words, but no sound came out. They slumped further, their body trembling.

You didn’t dare move, your heart racing as you strained to make out his features, but the angle made it impossible.

The killer stood again, slipping the mask back on before turning his attention to you.

Your stomach churned as he began walking toward you, his footsteps unhurried, almost casual.

You pressed yourself against the chair, your mind racing for a way out, but there was nowhere to go. You were trapped.

His voice was calm, disturbingly so, as he crouched down in front of you, his bloodied knife resting casually in his hand. “People like them… they take and take, hurt and hurt, until someone stops them. I’m just doing what no one else will.” He said softly, almost as if speaking to a child.

You thrashed against the ropes binding you, the rough fibers biting into your skin. “You can’t just decide that!” you shouted, the words pouring out before you could think. “You’re not some kind of… of judge or executioner!”

The killer leaned forward, his presence overwhelming, his masked face inches from yours. You could feel the cold metal of the knife near your leg, the blood dripping from it staining the floor beneath you. “I don’t decide anything,” he murmured, his voice quiet but firm, laced with a sinister undertone. “They decided it themselves. Every cruel word, every time they tore someone down, every life they ruined… they sealed their own fate.”

You shook your head vehemently, your breathing ragged. “That doesn’t make it right!”

He let out a low chuckle, the sound reverberating in the hollow space of the basement. “Oh, sweetheart,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery. “You still think the world is black and white, don’t you? That there’s some kind of fairness in it all?” He stood abruptly, towering over you, the knife twirling between his fingers. “The world isn’t fair. It’s a cruel, ugly place where people like them thrive because no one holds them accountable.”

Your voice cracked as you shot back, “And what makes you any different? You’re not saving anyone—you’re just a murderer!”

For a moment, the room fell deathly silent. The killer froze, his grip tightening on the knife. Then, he let out a dark, humorless laugh, his shoulders shaking. “A murderer?” he repeated, almost as if testing the word. “You’re wrong. Cause the difference is I know what I am.”

You stared at him, heart pounding, your body trembling as he slowly crouched back down, his masked face so close to yours.

“And here’s the thing, doll,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Deep down, you know I’m right. You’ve seen what people like them do. You’ve felt it.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as his words wormed their way into your mind. You hated how his tone softened, how it made him sound almost reasonable.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he continued, brushing a finger lightly against the ropes binding your wrist, his touch so delicate it sent chills down your spine. “You get it, even if you won’t admit it.”

Your breaths came out in short, shallow gasps as you watched him, your mind racing.

The killer stilled, his head tilting as he studied you, the sharp edge of his knife glinting in the dim light. “Where did the good version of you go?” he asked softly, almost disappointed. His voice carried a quiet intensity, laced with frustration. “The one who listened to me. Who followed my instructions without question.”

You blinked, confused and terrified, your lips trembling as you struggled to process his words. “What are you talking about?” you whispered, voice cracking under the weight of your fear.

He let out a sigh, shaking his head like a disappointed teacher scolding a wayward student. Slowly, he reached up to the edges of his mask, his fingers brushing over its smooth surface. “I guess it’s time we stopped playing this little game, huh?”

Your heart pounded in your chest, dread building with every passing second as he began to remove the mask. First, his chin came into view, sharp and familiar. Then his mouth—lips curved in a small, knowing smirk.

“No,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, your stomach twisting into knots.

The mask came off fully, and your breath hitched as the rest of his face was revealed. Those eyes, dark and piercing, stared back at you with a twisted mix of affection and amusement. It was a face you knew better than anyone else’s.

“...Ni-ki?” you stammered, tears spilling from your eyes as your mind struggled to reconcile what you were seeing.

He tilted his head, his smirk widening into something more sinister. “Surprise,” he said, his tone almost playful, as though this was all some sick joke.

Your body froze, every muscle locking in place as you stared at him, shaking your head in disbelief. “No… no, this can’t be real.”

“Oh, it’s very real,” Ni-ki replied, crouching down in front of you so you were at eye level. His gaze softened for a moment as he reached out, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. It doesn’t suit you.”

You jerked your head away from his touch, your breathing ragged. “You—how could you—”

“How could I what?” he interrupted, his voice sharp now. “Do what needs to be done? Protect you from people like them?” He gestured toward the two lifeless bodies still slumped in the room.

“Protect me?” you choked out, incredulous. “You call this protection? You’re killing people, Ni-ki! This isn’t normal, this isn’t—”

“Shh,” he cut you off, pressing a finger to your lips. “Don’t ruin this moment with your panic. I know it’s a lot to take in, but think about it. Haven’t I always been there for you? Always protected you?”

You stared at him, wide-eyed, unable to speak as he leaned closer, his face just inches from yours.

“I did this for you,” he whispered, his tone eerily tender. “Every single one of them… they hurt you. Or they would’ve. And I couldn’t let that happen. I won’t let it happen.”

Tears streamed down your face as you shook your head, your voice cracking. “You’re not the Ni-ki I know. You can’t be.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Oh, but I am. I’m the real Ni-ki. The one who loves you enough to do what no one else will.” His hand reached out, cupping your face as his thumb traced your cheek. “You just don’t see it yet. But you will.”

You flinched under his touch, bile rising in your throat as you tried to twist away from him. “You’re crazy!”

“And you’re perfect,” he countered, his voice sweet, dripping with affection. “That’s why I can’t let you go. Not now. Not ever.”

Your breathing was shaky as you stared at Ni-ki, his face so familiar yet warped by the sinister edge in his expression. Tears blurred your vision, but you forced yourself to speak. “When… when did this start? Ni-ki, why—how did you—” You struggled to find the right words.

His head tilted slightly, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a strange, unsettling mix of amusement and frustration. “When did it start?” he echoed, almost as if asking himself the same question. He leaned back slightly, still crouched in front of you, one knee on the ground, his arms resting on his bent leg.

There was a flicker in his dark eyes, a spark of something—anger, pain, sadness—all swirling together. He took a deep breath, his expression shifting to something almost depressing.

“You remember that week you got sick?” he asked softly, his voice calm but laced with something far darker.

You blinked, startled. “When I had the flu?”

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “Yeah. You were out for almost a week. Barely even answered my texts. I was worried about you, of course, but… it wasn’t just that.” He paused, his jaw clenching as his tone grew colder.

“That was the week they started targeting me,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl.

You froze, the blood draining from your face as you realized what he was saying.

“They,” he continued bitterly, his gaze hardening. “The second you weren’t there, they saw me as an easy target. Your absence gave them permission to attack.” He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “I thought I could handle it. At first, I did. But then… it got worse. They didn’t stop.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he wasn’t done. His words poured out now, each one sharper than the last.

“They’d corner me. Taunt me. Spread rumors. Push me around in the hallways like I was nothing. Like I wasn’t even human. And the worst part?” His voice cracked slightly, his fists tightening at his sides. “You weren’t there. You didn’t even know. I told myself it wasn’t your fault—you were sick—but I was alone, and no one cared. No one stopped them.”

His voice rose with each word, anger and hurt dripping from every syllable. You could see his hands trembling slightly, his chest rising and falling as his breathing grew heavier.

“Ni-ki…” you started softly, guilt twisting in your stomach.

“I didn’t deserve it,” he snapped, cutting you off. His eyes burned with fury now, his voice trembling with emotion. “I never did anything to them. I was your friend, but that was enough for them. Just being close to you made me a target.”

Your mind reeled, piecing everything together. Memories of those days flooded back—how Ni-ki had seemed distant when you returned to school, quieter, more withdrawn. At the time, you’d thought he was just giving you space to recover, but now you understood.

Your lips parted in recognition, the realization hitting you like a punch to the gut. “It was them,” you whispered. “Those same people. They’re the ones who—”

Ni-ki’s head snapped toward you, and for a brief moment, you saw a flicker of something in his eyes: validation. He nodded, his expression a mix of satisfaction and pain. “You understand now,” he said, his voice quiet but intense.

But you weren’t finished. “They’re the reason you… snapped,” you said, the word tasting bitter on your tongue.

His lips curled into a humorless smile as he tilted his head at you, studying your face like you were a puzzle he was finally solving. “Yeah,” he admitted. “They pushed me too far. And then… something inside me just… clicked.”

He leaned in closer, his voice soft but chilling. “I realized they didn’t deserve to get away with it. Not with what they did to me! They’re parasites, and the world is better off without them.”

You stared at him, trembling, your tears flowing freely now. “Ni-ki… this isn’t you. This isn’t—”

“It is me,” he said firmly, cutting you off again. His hand reached out to gently cradle your face, his touch surprisingly tender despite the blood still staining his fingers. “Oh, but this is the real me doll!”

“You can’t…” you choked out, your voice breaking. “You can’t just decide who deserves to live and who doesn’t. That’s not your choice to make!”

He smiled, his thumb brushing against your cheek, smearing a tear. “Oh, but it is. Because no one else will. And I’ll keep doing it—again and again—even if that makes me seem crazy.”

You shook your head, sobbing quietly, but he only leaned closer, his forehead almost touching yours. “Don’t cry,” he murmured, his voice softening again. “I’m not the villain here. You’ll see that someday.”

You turned your head away, unable to meet his gaze, but his grip on your face tightened just enough to bring your attention back to him. “Someday,” he whispered, his lips brushing your forehead, “you’ll thank me.”

Ni-ki’s voice was calm yet insistent, each word weaving its way into your mind like a snake, coiling tightly around your thoughts. “They were the problem,” he repeated, his tone soft but unwavering. “Every single one of them. They hurt you, they hurt me, and they would’ve kept going. People like that don’t change.”

You shook your head weakly, tears blurring your vision. “No… no, you can’t just… You can’t decide—”

“I didn’t decide anything,” he interrupted, his voice sharpening just slightly. “They chose this. They chose to torment others, to stomp on anyone they thought was beneath them. You’ve seen it yourself. How many times have you been their target? How many times have they made you feel small?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but no words came. Memories of those moments flashed through your mind—the taunts, the rumors, the laughter at your expense. You could still hear their voices, their mocking tones, still feel the sting of their words.

Ni-ki leaned in closer, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “They didn’t care about you. About anyone. They’re leeches, feeding off other people’s pain. And you want me to just… let them live? To give them the chance to hurt someone else?”

Your heart pounded in your chest. “People can change,” you whispered, though even you could hear the doubt in your voice.

“Can they?” he challenged, his lips quirking into a bitter smile. “Tell me, have you ever seen one of them apologize? Have they ever truly felt sorry for what they’ve done? Or do they just pretend to care when it benefits them?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

He sighed, his hand brushing a strand of hair out of your face as if he were comforting you. “You’re too kind,” he murmured, almost wistfully. “That’s what I love about you. But kindness doesn’t work on people like them. They see it as weakness. They use it against you.”

His words slithered into your mind like a viper, sinking their fangs into your thoughts. They coiled around the doubt already lurking there, tightening their grip.

“They were the problem,” he repeated, his voice softer now, almost coaxing. “You know I’m right. Deep down, you’ve always known it.”

You shook your head again, but it was weaker this time. The venom of his words was spreading, clouding your judgment. Memories of the bullies flashed through your mind again—how they’d laughed at you, taunted you, humiliated you. How no one had stopped them. How no one had cared.

“They didn’t deserve it,” you whispered, though the conviction in your voice was faltering.

“Didn’t they?” Ni-ki pressed, his gaze never leaving yours. “Think about it. Think about everything they’ve done. Everything they’ve said. Did they ever feel sorry? Did they ever stop to think about how their actions hurt others?”

You stayed silent, your breathing shaky.

“They didn’t care,” he said, his voice low but firm. “They never cared. And they never will. People like them… they only stop when someone makes them.”

His words kept slithering into your mind, twisting around your thoughts until they were all you could hear. You wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but… was he?

You felt your resolve cracking, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a heavy stone. Maybe… maybe he wasn’t wrong. Maybe they really wouldn’t have stopped.

Your silence seemed to embolden him. He smiled, leaning closer, his forehead almost brushing yours. “See?” he whispered. “You’re starting to understand. I’m not the monster here. I’m the one who’s doing what no one else will.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks, but you didn’t speak. You didn’t deny him. You couldn’t.

Ni-ki smiled wider, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek, wiping away a tear. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, his voice filled with a twisted kind of pride. “You’ll see. One day, you’ll see that I did this for us. For you.”

You closed your eyes, trying to block out his words, but they were already there, buried deep in your mind.

You barely registered what was happening. Exhaustion weighed heavily on you, the emotional toll of the past hours rendering you too drained to fight or even think straight. When Ni-ki untied your wrists and re-bound them in front of you instead, the shift barely registered in your foggy mind. You flinched slightly at his touch, but even that was weak.

Before you knew it, he was scooping you up, his arms cradling you securely as if you were something precious. Your legs, still bound, dangled uselessly. The motion made you groan softly in discomfort, but you didn’t resist. You couldn’t resist.

He carried you up the stairs, out of the dim, suffocating basement, and into a softly lit living room. The space was strangely simple, furnished with a small couch, a coffee table, and a few personal touches—a bookshelf in the corner, a stack of neatly folded blankets on a chair. It felt too… normal. Too domestic.

Ni-ki carefully lowered himself onto the couch, keeping you in his arms as if he were holding a fragile doll. He adjusted your position so you were leaning against him, your cheek resting against his chest. His fingers moved gently, brushing strands of hair out of your face, his touch light and tender.

“You’re so tired,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “You’ve been through so much. But it’s okay now. I’ve got you.”

Tears continued to stream down your cheeks, silent and unrelenting, as if your body didn’t know how else to process everything. You didn’t have the energy to speak, to scream, or even to flinch when his hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing away the tears.

“Shh,” he cooed, his lips curling into a soft smile, though his dark eyes gleamed with something far less gentle. “No more crying, sweetheart. They can’t hurt you anymore. You’re safe now. Safe with me.”

You wanted to tell him he was wrong, that he was the danger you needed saving from, but the words wouldn’t come. Your chest felt tight, the weight of everything suffocating you.

Ni-ki’s other hand came up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers tangling lightly in your hair. “You don’t have to be scared anymore,” he whispered, his tone achingly sweet. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll protect you. Just like I always have.”

The warmth of his embrace was suffocating in its own way, the tenderness of his touch a cruel mockery of the terror coursing through your veins. But as the minutes ticked by, your body, weakened and overwhelmed, began to betray you. Your muscles slackened, your breathing evened out, and though your mind screamed for you to resist, the exhaustion dragged you closer and closer to unconsciousness.

Ni-ki noticed the change immediately. He shifted slightly, pulling a blanket from the back of the couch and draping it over the both of you, his movements slow and deliberate, as if savoring the moment.

His eyes softened as he watched you, his gaze lingering on your face, as if he were memorizing every detail, every emotion flickering across your features. His fingers brushed lightly over your cheek, tracing the path of a tear you hadn't realized had fallen.

Then, slowly, he leaned down. You could feel his breath against your skin before his lips ever touched you, a soft, tentative brush against your temple. It was the faintest of touches, but the moment it happened, your heart skipped in your chest. His lips moved slowly across your skin, tender, careful, as if testing the waters.

You closed your eyes instinctively, your breath catching, not sure what to make of the emotions stirring within you. Your body reacted before your mind could process it—an unexpected warmth spreading from your chest outward, the quiet, gentle touch of his lips on your skin softening the frantic thoughts that had been chasing themselves through your mind.

Ni-ki’s kiss lingered on your forehead, then your cheeks, as though savoring each moment. He was taking his time, savoring the moment in a way that made everything feel too intimate, too personal.

As he kissed your jaw, you couldn't deny that your heart raced. It was a strange feeling, unfamiliar, and yet somehow soothing. His lips were tender, his touch softer than you expected. When he finally stopped, you opened your eyes, only to find him hovering over you, his lips just barely brushing yours.

He looked at you then, his dark eyes intense, searching. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips, but there was something else in his gaze—something that felt more possessive than loving.

"Can I?" he asked, his voice low, almost a whisper, as if seeking your permission.

You blinked, the weight of his question sinking in. You had no words, no deflection, only the silent pounding of your heart in your chest. You looked up at him, and the moment seemed to stretch on forever.

With a soft sigh, almost as if resigned to whatever this was between you, you nodded. “Yes.”

The moment you gave your consent, he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. Ni-ki kissed you with a quiet hunger, the kind that felt as though he were marking his place in your world, making sure you wouldn’t forget him. And in that moment, with his arms wrapped around you and his lips claiming yours, it was hard to think of anything else.

Ni-ki, sensing your acceptance and the lack of resistance, initiated a deeper kiss, his lips pressing more firmly against yours, his tongue teasing and exploring.

You gasped softly, your breath catching in your throat as the intensity of his kiss took you by surprise. With your bound hands, you instinctively gripped onto his arms, your fingers tightening around his muscles.

The sensation of your touch seemed to drive him wilder, his kisses becoming more passionate and demanding, his lips moved from your mouth to your neck, leaving a trail of passionate marks. His teeth grazed your skin lightly, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

As Ni-ki pulled back just a fraction, you watched with a mixture of curiosity and tension. His hand reached down into the pocket of his jacket, and for a moment, you tensed—your body still wired with caution. But when he pulled out a knife, it wasn’t the sharp gleam of the blade that caught your attention. It was the way his gaze remained locked with yours, intense, but strangely calm.

He held the knife with practiced ease, his fingers brushing against the rope around your wrists. You held your breath as he made a precise cut, the rope falling away in seconds. The pressure on your wrists eased, but you didn’t move, not immediately. You kept your eyes on him, and he studied you back, as if waiting for a reaction, something that might hint at what you were thinking.

But instead of pulling away, instead of running, you found yourself unable to budge. His eyes were dark, unreadable, but they held you in place, as though you were stuck in an invisible web.

The silence between you stretched, and without thinking, without second-guessing, you slipped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He didn’t hesitate for a second. His lips found yours in an instant, and the kiss was urgent, almost hungry, as if he had been waiting for this moment. His hands moved and there was no mistaking the way he pulled you into him, as if he never wanted to let go.

When he finally pulled away, his lips still lingered over yours, his breath warm against your skin. You looked into his eyes, seeing the satisfaction there.

Ni-ki, with a hint of sadistic pleasure in his eyes, leaned in and kissed your lips, his movements calculated and precise. As he pecked your lips, his words flowed like honey, sweet yet dark.

"You know I only want what's best for you, don't you, doll?" he whispered, his voice laced with control. "I'm the only one who truly understands you. I can give you everything you desire, everything you've ever wanted."

Your lips, soft and pliable, parted slightly as if in agreement. You nodded, a slight movement that confirmed your acceptance of his words, your mind clouded by the intense passion he had instilled in you. The depth of your love for Ni-ki had clouded your judgment, making you susceptible to his every word.

"I can make you feel things you've never felt before," he continued, his voice low and compelling. "I can take you to places only I can show you. Trust me."

Your heart raced at Ni-ki's words, your mind a whirlwind of excitement and anticipation. "I trust you," you said, your voice filled with surrender.. "Take me wherever you wish."

Your logic, once a steadfast companion, had fled, leaving you vulnerable to the allure of his charm. His words, like a drug, had you addicted and longing for more.

Ni-ki, with a calculated smirk, leaned in close, his eyes piercing into yours. His voice, laced with a hint of dark seduction, whispered, "You know you belong to me, don't you? I've crafted you into the perfect companion, one who adores and loves me unconditionally."

You no longer questioned, no longer resisted, for you had become a willing participant in his world.

Ni-ki's hands roamed over your body, a gesture that was possessive. His touch, once gentle, had transformed into a commanding force, a reminder.

"You're perfect," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

You nodded again, your mind a maze, created by Ni-ki. You had become his willing captive, a puppet. Your love, once pure and innocent, had morphed into something complex.

Ni-ki's kisses became more frequent, more insistent, as if he were claiming ownership over your very being.

"I love watching you surrender to me," he purred, his eyes dark with desire. "You're mine to command, and I will make sure you never question that."

You, under the spell of Ni-ki's kisses and his presence, felt a surge of something unknown.

"I want to be yours," you whispered, your voice soft and surrendered. "Command me, control me, and make me yours forever."

Ni-ki's kisses became more intense, his lips moving from your mouth to your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His hands, strong and assertive, roamed over your body, leaving no part untouched.

--

The next day at school, you walked through the halls with Niki at your side, the two of you almost in sync. Everyone around you seemed unaware of the shift, the change in the air. To the teachers, you were just another student; to your friends, you acted as though everything was perfectly normal. You laughed at their jokes, smiled when needed, and joined in conversations as though the world hadn’t turned upside down just a day ago.

But when the moments between you and Niki were private, things were different. You weren’t the same person you had been before; you were only his. Every glance he gave you, every touch, sent a spark through your body. And you, in turn, clung to his words, listening intently as he spoke, like they held the key to everything you needed to know.

The moments alone with him, in the quiet spaces between classes or in the halls when no one else was around, were when you felt the most alive. He’d find ways to hold you close, one hand on your back, the other gently cupping your chin to pull you in for a kiss that felt like it could last forever. Each kiss left you breathless, like it was all you needed in that moment.

You began to notice that Niki, too, seemed to only listen to you. The way he would react when you spoke, how he would follow your requests without hesitation, no matter how small or trivial. If you asked him to do something, he did it—immediately, without question. If you needed him to hold you, he would. If you wanted him close, he was always there, like he couldn’t bear to be any farther away from you.

--

Standing in the empty hallway, the buzz of the school day fading into the background, Ni-ki's strong arms encircled your waist, pulling you against him. His lips, soft yet demanding, met yours, and the kiss ignited a fire within you.

With each passing second, the kiss grew more intense, more passionate and you welcomed it with open arms, or rather, open lips.

As Ni-ki pulled back slightly, his breath warm against your lips, he smiled, a smile that held a mixture of satisfaction and mischief. "See how easy it is to let go?" he whispered, his voice low. "The way you surrender, the way you let me take control…"

You nodded, you didn't need to speak; your actions and your body language spoke for you.

His smile widened, and he leaned in once more, his lips finding yours with precision. The kiss deepened, his tongue teasing and exploring.

The wall behind you provided support as Ni-ki pressed his body closer, his hands moving to your hips, pulling you tighter against him.

As the kiss lingered, you could feel his breath against your neck, his hot words whispered against your skin. "I love having you like this," he murmured, his voice hoarse. "So ready to give in to me."

You nodded again, a silent affirmation of your agreement.

Ni-ki's smile, a triumphant smile, told you everything you needed to know - you were his, and he had you exactly where he wanted you.

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

[deathbecomesthem]

Basement Apartment Part 2/2

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader - 6.6K

+18 ONLY - Minors DNI

Summary - It's 2001, and you've just moved into this new basement apartment. It's not so bad, except for the neighbor directly above your bedroom.

Contains a mean reader (kinda). There is smut within Eddie is submissive here, but there isn't really any kind of actual dom/sub dynamic. This is kind of an enemies to lovers deal. Sorta. Alcohol. Use of derogatory language against Eddie.

Part 1

A/N: Thank you @jo-harrington for loving this story, and thank you for editing this at a moment's notice. Love you forever.

The alley is dark with only a singular halo of light illuminated by the light perched over the oversized metal door through which you and Jeannie just exited. There’s a rusty pipe just outside of the circle of light dripping into a small puddle of trash water next to an open dumpster. Cigarette butts litter the ground like the memories of past alleyway encounters to which you and Jeannie will add your own.

“You really are the hottest girl I’ve seen around here in a long time.” Jeannie’s smile is sweet, one of a Chesire cat grin. She’s eyeing you up and down in appreciation. “Maybe that’s just because I get to see you put Ed in his place for once.” You cough out a laugh because it is fun to put that boy in his place.  “Don’t get me wrong, he’s actually a great guy, just a cocky bastard when someone gets his dick hard.”

“Yeah, well, sounds like most of the guys I’ve dealt with,” you exhale the words along with a mournful sigh. You think about the casual misogyny that impacts every aspect of your daily life and frown at the thought. Just another man that looks at you like a prize, something they can win. Something they deserve.

“Nah, Ed really is a good guy. Not your typical asshole. Don’t let him fool you.” Eyebrows cocked, you take in the cheeky smile on Jeannie’s face. Guess I’m not getting any pussy tonight.

“I take it this” you move your hand between yourself and Jeannie “is not happening, eh?”

“Can’t do it, pretty. Not when you dance with me, and eye fuck a guy. No hard feelings.” No, no hard feelings. Not for Jeannie, anyway. No, you’re a stupid bisexual mess, and that’s not her fault.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I cock blocked myself.” This has you both laughing. “I’m sorry, that was bad behavior. You’re being too nice about it.”

“Nah, it’s cool.” Jeannie rubs out her cigarette and wiggles her fingers at you in a goodbye as she turns and heads back into work. She stops at the door and adds, “He’s not a bad guy. He’s really not,” and the door is closing, leaving you alone in that circle of light to listen to the water drip, drip, drip while the filter of your cigarette starts to burn.

You hear faint laughter and watch a couple walking by, arms wrapped around each other. You step to the side, hiding in the shadow so you can watch them without being seen. You let out a little groan and stomp your foot in frustration. 

“Fuck this.” You’re done, ready to go home and find a bottle in the cabinet. You consider going to 2A to see if Mary and Steve were around, but you couldn’t bear the idea of cock blocking Mary too. It was pissing you off that this guy was in your head. It was pissing you off that you wanted him.

The short walk home is not enough. Just as your apartment building appears in the distance, you detour through an empty parking lot. This is a spot you’ve never explored, an elementary school with 4 square lines spray painted in the pavement, rusty basketball hoops, monkey bars, and 3 swings lined up in a row. One of the swings has been tossed over the top of the poles a few times, it sits higher than the other two. The moon is out, the air is calm, and you don’t mind the slight bite of cold through your thin pantyhose. You swing.

At first, it’s a gentle movement, but muscle memory takes over. You find yourself pumping your arms and legs, gaining momentum. Higher, higher, and higher still. You let your laughter erupt in the open air. Your breath fans out in a cloud around your face. You feel clean and free for a moment. You are laughing and swinging for what feels like hours, until something draws your attention.

A jingling sound can be heard at the side of the building, near the old basketball court. Someone is walking a dog, maybe? Your senses are heightened at the perceived possible threat, dragging your feet on the soft earth beneath the swing, you open the snap at the top of your purse. Then you see what is approaching, sauntering, towards you. A huff of aggravation leaves your mouth.

“You come here often?” The line is so ridiculously delivered, a faux husky voice, it earns Eddie a small laugh, and you can see his back straighten with pride. “Shouldn’t you be sitting at the bar waiting for Jeannie to get off work?”

“Did you put a tracking device on me somewhere? For fuck’s sake, give a girl a break.” His head is wobbling back and forth, as if to say, yeah, sorry. His long legs squat deeply to allow himself to rest on the swing to your right. You can’t help but giggle, the sight is endearing if not completely annoying.

“I heard someone laughing while I was on my way home. I had no idea I’d find you out here. I was intrigued, what can I say?” What can you say? Nothing. So, you don’t. You toe the dirt for a moment and begin pumping your arms and legs in earnest. Let him see your laughter. What harm could it do?

Eyes are on you as you reach the sky. Your hair whips from in front of your face to back behind your head. The laughter comes, the boy still watching and kicking the dirt. And then he says, “Wanna hear a joke?” And how could you not? You let out a loud, “Yeah” on your down swing.

“What do you do when your wife starts smoking?”

“What do you do?” You ask with genuine curiosity.

“Use some lube.” 

You snort a laugh at the ridiculous joke. You drag your feet, a giggle still in your mouth. And you look at Eddie. God, he’s so beautiful it takes your breath away.

“That was an awful joke. Tell me another.” Now he’s swinging while you watch him. His legs are too long to kick back fully and get any real height, but he’s still going for it. He’s letting out a “Hmmmm” in thought while he thinks of another joke. You aren’t fooled, you know this guy has a whole arsenal in that brain of his.

“What do you call someone who refuses to fart in public?” He hasn’t even gotten to the punch line, and you're giddy enough to giggle already.

“What?” He stops hard, feet planted in the dirt to deliver his punch line.

“A private tutor.”

You can’t help it, you’re laughing like a flirtatious teenager, “You idiot.” You go to swat his arm, and he’s fast. He grabs it before it hits its mark. His fingers interlace with your own, and he lets your arms drop between you. Holding hands, arms formed in a V at this little school playground. It’s so tender you could puke.

“I’m sorry.” A long finger is rubbing along your knuckles while you listen to his soft voice, “I’m such an asshole. To be fair, that usually works for me.” His eyebrows are cocked at you, and his small smile is barely visible in the moonlight. He seems small and sweet in this moment, and you feel warmth spreading through your chest at the sight of him.

“Yeah, well, I was just about ready to hate fuck the attitude out of you.” He drops your hand and dramatically grabs his chest.

“Hold on, let me just get in the right mind frame.” He stands up and shakes his arms at his side to limber up and clears his throat. His long arms grab the metal chain of your swing, and he leans into your space. A low seductive voice reverberates through his chest as he says, “Baby, your boobs remind me of Mt. Rushmore. My face should be among them.”

Your laughter is a release of tension. You’re in hysterics. It’s the only thing to describe your reaction to this fucking nerd putting on this ridiculous show. There are tears in the corner of your eyes until you catch sight of Eddie’s face. He’s watching you, the moonlight creating a halo around his stupid head with a wide smile that beams with pride.

“I would do anything to hear that laugh.” When you let out a groan of protest, his hand waves it away, “I’m serious. It’s what drew me back here. You have the sweetest laugh I’ve ever heard.”

You grab a fistful of his shirt and pull him down to your eye level. Right as your noses brushes against his and you’re angling your mouth towards him he whispers, “I’d love to hear what other pretty noises you make.”

Hand flattened, you give him a shove. “You’re such an asshole, Eddie.”

“Oh, come on, I was joking.” You’re up and heading back to your building, annoyed with yourself more than him. “Please stop. I’m sorry.” Wheeling around to face him, he stops abruptly with his hands raised in surrender. You have your hands propped against your hips. You bend down and unlace your boots and toe them off. You’ve lost a couple of inches, but Eddie still seems completely intimidated. He inches his way towards you, as if approaching a rabid dog, and he reaches down to pick up your discarded boots to carry for you.

“Let me walk you home, hmm? Are you hungry? I picked up some perch at the fish market yesterday.”

“I’m sorry, are you offering to make me dinner at,” you look at your watch and scoff, “1:30 in the morning?”

“Uh, yeah. To be fair, I was planning to make myself dinner anyway, but why not. It’s obvious neither of us is getting laid tonight.” Too true. Neither of you were getting laid, which made you wonder…

“Why aren’t you getting laid tonight? You been in a dry spell lately? I saw plenty of pretty bimbos making googly eyes at you earlier.”

“Yeah, true.” He sighs dramatically, “I think I’ve had my fill of bimbos for a while, ya know? Plus, I think I was getting a slutty reputation around the building.”

“Pffffttt, come on.”

“I’m serious, I was more than a little embarrassed to have the hottest chick I’ve ever seen call me an asshole and a slut to my face.” Well, you are a slut. “And I know what you’re thinking, you were just calling it like you saw it, but is it a crime to have a good time, Sweetheart? I didn’t know everyone in the apartment building could hear me.”

There’s a tinge of something, guilt, in the back of your mind. You never told him about the vent. The vent that certainly can’t be legal. The vent that creates a direct opening between your rooms. Yeah, he’s a loud ass, but you probably wouldn’t hear most of what he’s doing in the privacy of his own room if it wasn’t for that fucking vent.

“Not everyone in the building.” You admit, sheepishly. A pause, a gentle hand on your shoulder, an eyebrow raised in question. “So, there’s this vent I discovered. It’s basically just wide-open space between our rooms.”

His eyes are moving side to side as if he’s trying to understand, trying to see it in his mind. “A vent? Why is there a ductwork that goes from one room to another room like that?” And you think for a moment you might get away with your bad behavior, because maybe he’ll focus on the design flaw instead of the fact that you blamed him for something out of his control.

“Wait. Are you telling me that you’ve been ragingly pissed off at me for something that isn’t my fault?” You wave your hand a little bit. Because, yeah, that’s pretty much true.

“Sort of. I mean, you’re still a cocky asshole that doesn’t consider his neighbors when he’s got his dick up.” His arms go up in frustration. “No, you’re right, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have decided to be mean right off the bat.”

Eddie’s still gripping your boots while your feet are walking on the freezing cold sidewalk with nothing but pantyhose between you and the night. The chill is finally starting to get to you, the booze having worn off completely. Your building isn’t too far, about a block away, and your teeth start to chatter a bit. You’re trying to hide it, not wanting to seem too vulnerable, too weak in this moment, but he’s observant. He swings off his leather jacket, leaving himself in just his cropped t-shirt, and wraps it around your shoulders. It smells like cigarettes, worn leather, and Old Spice. You could scream at how comforting it all is. How safe and cared for you feel. Instead, you try to satisfy your curiosity.

“So, tell me, Eddie, what do you do for a living?” You ask, hating the way the question sounds coming out of your mouth. Boring chit chat that doesn’t fit the already too intimate understanding the two of you have with each other. 

“Besides playing metal for free booze at the downtown bars? Take a guess.” Oof, if you had to guess, you’d have no idea. Tattoo artist? That’s plausible. Cook? Could be. Mechanic, plumber, electrician? How annoying to not know and how annoying to have him play coy about it.

“Oh, I don’t know. Can’t you just fucking tell me?” His head is thrown back in a laugh. He really enjoys needling you. He likes pissing you off, at least just a little.

“God, you’re so impatient. If you must know, I work with kids. Believe it or not, I’m a counselor for at-risk youth.” You can’t hide the shock on your face. There is no way you would have ever been able to guess that this guy worked with kids. Is a counselor. You’ve done work for family attorneys in the past, and you know what some of these kids go through. You imagine him holding the hands of kids going through the horrors of life. A lump begins to form at the base of your throat.

“Are you joking?” You practically choke out the words. It’s a rude question and you have no excuse for it other than the fact that it’s exactly what crosses your mind.

“Not joking. I had a rough time when I was younger. I barely got out of high school alive. Steve started going to a community college back home, and I decided to go for it with him. I spent 6 years getting a 4-year degree while flipping burgers.” 

Your mind is so blown you can’t do anything but stutter, “You’re a fucking saint? That’s actually kind of annoying.” You nudge Eddie with your shoulder affectionately. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I do for a living?” He nudges you back, affectionately.

“I know what you do. Mary told me. You’re an assistant for a lawyer with the aspiration to go to law school. And, you’re very likely going to do it and be a huge success because you’re a genius and you work harder than anyone she’s ever met.” Bless Mary, what a sweetheart. You can see her saying this to him, verbatim. She’s your biggest cheerleader. “It’s why I haven’t been having any overnight guests. You seriously had me feeling like the biggest dick in the world, you know.”

Ascending your steps to the front door of your building, you stop and look at Eddie. He’s a step below you, and still taller than eye level. “Why did you come on so strong with me? Why not just” you’re flapping your hand around looking for the right thing to say, “be normal with me?”

“I’m naturally flirtatious.” A roll of the eyes has him breathing through his nose, “Fine. you’re hot when you’re angry. Like, it’s insane. And, you know, most people find me charming.”

Yes. You could see it. He is charming. And sweet. Jeannie is right, he’s not a bad guy, he’s a really good guy, in fact. You reach your hand out to touch his curls, you’ve been thinking about how soft they would feel between your fingers since the first time saw him. Yes, they are soft. Oh, his hand is cupping your cheek, and you’re leaning your head into it. His skin is so warm despite the cold.

“God, you’re so beautiful, I could cry.” The words are out before you can stop them, and maybe you don’t want to. Maybe he needs to know what is true about him in your eyes. That he is beautiful, and that you want him, even more now that he’s let you see who he really is.

He releases a slow exhale at your words, and you can see a flush creeping up his neck. You are charmed. Before a protest can be made, you let your mouth meet his. You let yourself taste him, breathe him in. And he is sweet. A light kiss, and his breath is fanning over your face.

He pulls back to look into your eyes and says, “I think you might have something in your eyes.” You furrow your brows a little while he inspects them, “No, sorry, just a sparkle.” He’s breathing out a laugh at his own terrible pick up line, and you hate him.

“I hate you.” You say the words without conviction, and this time, his mouth meets your own with a firm kiss. A tongue snaking across your bottom lip in a plea for entry, and you grant it. This is bliss. His arms are holding you at your hips while yours find his neck. Like teenagers at your parents’ doorstep not wanting the night to end. This goes on until he feels you trembling and remembers that you could be doing this inside. Where there’s heat and comfort.

“Wouldst thou allow me the honor of walking thee to thine door this fine evening, M’lady?” He asks, and you realize that this guy that has  fucked every woman in the tri-state area is an actual nerd. A goofy bastard.

“Thank you, kind sir. I hate to be out on these streets alone.” You bat your eyelashes and he lets out a little groan of pain. You relish in that groan, an indication that you have the upperhand with this man. You do have him wrapped around your little finger. Not only could you make him putty in your hands, you are doing it by just existing within his space. 

As you head to the stairs, you feel Eddie’s warm fingers tangling themselves with your own, and that feeling of being a kid hits you again. It’s been so long since you’ve felt this kind of zinging tingle from such a simple gesture. Will he be careful with me? A bit of doubt begins to prickle at the back of your mind.

“So.” You’re standing with your back against your door, head tilted up to Eddie while he’s leaning his arm above you and bending into your space. “Did you want to come in, or…” Lips are on you. His soft mouth, so warm and inviting, and your tongues are dancing. It is divine. It is perfection. Until. Until. Until. “Wait.”

When your eyes focus on his face, there is concern. Not anger at being told to wait. Not frustration at your hand holding him away from you. Just brows knit together in distress for you. 

“Are you ok, Sweetheart. I’m sorry if I did something wrong.” His knuckles brush against your cheek, and then he takes a small step back to allow you a little distance.

“No, Eddie, you’ve done nothing wrong.” You’ve turned around at this point, and you’re fumbling for your keys. They rattle as they hit the linoleum at your feet. Curses are being muttered under your breath while you try to recover.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Eddie’s big brown eyes are still so full of concern, you could cry. You want nothing more than to bring him into your home, into your bed, and just let go. It would be one thing if there weren’t these feelings brewing inside of you. It wasn’t what you planned. No, you want his mouth all over you, a tender embrace. The last time you had those things, you got burned. You’ve learned about playing with fire, and you just don’t do it anymore.

“I’m sorry, Eddie.” You let out a little shocked noise at your stupid self, “you really are beautiful and sexy. And you’re a good person to boot.” Your head is shaking at him, because these are not things you’ve been looking for.

“Um, thanks? Why is that bad?” His tenderness is too much for you, and you feel yourself wanting to give in. His hand is gently brushing your hair away from your face, and he’s tilting his head to try to see you better.

“Because, I like you, and that’s not something I can deal with. I’m not looking to feel anything other than mutual physical satisfaction. With anyone.” You throw your hand out to emphasize your point. Nope. Not looking for a boyfriend. And that’s what this motherfucker is, he’s a goddamn boyfriend if you’ve ever seen one.

“Uh, well, I say that’s too fucking bad, Sweetheart. The feelings are mutual, and if you don’t want to hang out with me because we’re super compatible, that’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.” The smile he’s wearing barely masks his frustration. He’s looking like the cocky shit you first met. Arms spread open to present himself to you. “Fucking fine, I’ll leave you alone. Give me my jacket back.”

You shrug it off and hand it over, already missing the warmth. You feel so small right now, and so angry at yourself. He’s right, it is stupid. “I’m sorry, Eddie. I don’t think I could fuck you and have it be just casual. I can’t have you living above me, hearing you and whoever else. It would be one thing if we didn’t live in the same building, but I’d rather not even go there right now. There’s no way this wouldn’t end up being a complete shit show.”

He spins on his heel and takes the stairs two at a time, leaving you standing alone under the glow of the fluorescent lights that illuminate the hall. When you finally enter the apartment, tears are stinging at the corners of your eyes. What is your fucking problem? You don’t even notice that Mary and Steve are sitting on the couch watching a movie.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Mary is scrambling out of the embrace she was sharing with Steve. “I heard you shouting with, uh, someone in the hallway.”

“With Ed, it was definitely Ed.” Steve says nonchalantly, as if saying his name wouldn’t drive a dagger through your heart.

“Thanks for that, Steve.” Mary’s annoyed face is completely unconvincing. To be fair, how could anyone be annoyed with Steve? He’s so precious.

“I just,” You sigh and try to find something to say to get her to leave you alone, “I hung out with him a little bit tonight, and I can’t do this right now. It would be one thing if it was just sex, but he’s so fucking perfect.” Mary knows. She’ll support you. She knows how hard you took it the last time you tried to do the feeling thing with someone. She will hug you and tell you that you’re doing the right thing.

She is staring at you with incredulity. Flabbergasted. Bemused. Dumbfounded. Absolutely flummoxed. “You’re fucking stupid.”

Steve lets out a little laugh through his nose and clears his throat to cover the sound. You and Mary both shoot eye daggers in his direction and he just gives you both a little shrug. “You know, Eddie hasn’t stopped talking about how much he wants to get to know you. You have him so wound up, it’s ridiculous.”

“Oh, come on. I’ve done nothing but be a complete bitch to him.”

“Yeah, and Mary here has told him how amazing you are. He’s always like this. He loves when someone is willing to put him in his place.” Your head is spinning at the thought. Putting him in his place. “Plus, Mary told him that you want to be a lawyer and work with legal aid. He’s ready to go out and buy a ring.”

“Shut up, Steve, you’re freaking her out.” Mary turns back to you and grabs your hand. “Just answer this question for me, and I’ll leave you alone.” Her eyebrows are raised, and you nod in answer, “If you’re already hurting your own feelings by not allowing yourself the chance to spend time with Eddie, what’s the harm in seeing what might be there before you crush it?”

You roll your eyes and wave, “Good night, guys. Be safe.” You hate that everyone is right. Fuck this. You’re going to bed.

Emotionally exhausted, you find sleep easy to find. As you drift, through the sound of your fan blowing gently on your night stand, you hear something that is bringing you back into the waking world. It’s soft, so quiet. Is that? It’s music.

It’s a song you recognize, anyone would, but it’s so much more mournful than it should be. Soft and gentle strumming. Mary’s words are hounding you while you hear Eddie singing, through that fucking vent, I Want To Hold Your Hand. You’re so pissed off, there’s nothing you can do but throw your legs over the edge of your bed and stomp out of your room. Down the hall. To the living room where Steve and Mary are sleeping. Out your apartment door. Up the stairs. All while still in your tiny sleep shorts and tank top, the breeze of the front door to the building leaving your skin covered in goose flesh.

*knock, knock, knock* Come on, I know you’re awake. A little louder *knock, knock, knock*, and you hear him grumbling behind the door. “You’ve got to stop forgetting your keys man, it’s like 3 in the morning. The door swings open, and he sees you.

“Hi.” His eyes widen, “Oh shit, I’m sorry. Was I too loud?” Yes. Too loud. Too pretty. Too kind. Too sexy. Too everything.

You push your way past him and into his apartment, back into his bedroom. He’s following you, still confused, huffing at you. Until you stop to face him outside of his bedroom door. A finger firmly pointed at his chest.

“One of two things needs to happen tomorrow.” He’s looking from your finger to your face, trying to understand what’s going on, “Either we get the landlord down here to fix this vent issue, or you and Steve switch rooms.”

“Uh, ok. Yeah, that’s fine.” Your finger moves up to the fringe of his hair, letting it dance along his forehead. “Sweetheart, do you have something else in mind to talk about?” You shake your head at him, eyes still focused on his, absolutely mesmerized by him.

“I want you, Eddie, if you’ll have me. Even if it’s just for tonight. How does that sound to you?” Eddie’s lip curls up and throws his arms around your waist to lift you off the ground in a bear hug. Your fist pound his chest in protest while giggles are erupting out of you. Without putting you down, he kicks his door open and walks you over to his bed.

“Oh, Sweetheart, this is gonna be so fun.” Your mouths are mingling gently, with need and passion, but so sweetly. His big hands grip your torso and toss you onto his messy bed. He’s climbing over you while you crook your finger to draw him closer to you. Close enough for you to-

“Jesus, woman.” -wrap your legs around his waist and flip him onto his back. You wiggle your finger at him in a “no-no” gesture when he tries to push himself back up.

“Let me make you feel good, Baby. You’re so pretty, I just wanna play for a while.” A pathetic whine leaves his mouth at your words. You know these are probably words he’s used on countless women over the years. You mean it, too. You want to open him up and see his heart beating in his chest. You want to see his lungs expand and expel his breath. You want to explore the expanse of his chest with the tip of your nose. Your tongue. You want to see the freckles that are hidden from his own gaze and take the time to appreciate each of them.

“Let’s come to an agreement, Baby. If you tell me no, ask me to stop, or in any way sound like you’re anything more than enthusiastic about what I’m doing, I’ll stop. Ok?” Eddie nods enthusiatically. “The only other thing I’m going to ask is that you don’t touch me until I tell you it’s ok. You can ask if you really need it.” He’s nodding again, and you give a curt head shake, “Tell me if this is ok, please.” You’re sitting with your legs slung over his chest, and a hand cupping his cheek. You need to see what his face and words are telling you.

“Yes, please.” He’s nodding, and then a little wolfish grin crosses his pretty lips. “That all sounds good for now. We can talk about a switch up for the next time.” You scoff in answer, but you can’t deny the throb you feel at his words. Maybe you could see yourself relinquishing some control with him.

No more words for now, Eddie is on his best behavior as he watches you with keen, shining eyes. You waste no time and peel his shirt off, showing you that chest you wanted to mark up. Before even touching him with your hands, you lick a stripe from the line of hair below his belly button, up his stomach, over his chest, and to his neck where you begin sucking behind his ear. His responding groan is music to your ears.

Before long he’s laid out for you, completely nude, hard as a rock and moaning while you tease him with gentle strokes and words of praise. He is so good for you, so beautiful with the purpling marks on his chest and thighs. And quiet, he’s being so quiet for you.

“Baby, you’re such a good boy for me. Tell me what you want me to do.” You give his slit a little kitten li k and his eyes roll back but his hands are still firmly planted and gripping the sheets below him. “Wanna see how far I can get your cock in my throat? It’s pretty big, Baby, I don’t know if I can handle it.” You’re pouting at him, giving him your sweet big eyes, batting your lashes at him.

His response is high pitched, sounding almost painful, “Sweetheart, I want you to suck my cock, but god, can I touch you, please.” Aw, it’s only been 30 minutes.

“Oh, Baby, I was just getting started.” Your hand moves down his shaft to the soft sac at the base of his cock. As he’s watching you, you take two of your fingers into your mouth and let your saliva coat them. His own mouth is moving in sync with your own, tasting the ghost of your fingers. You bring your hand down to the spot below his sac where it’s so sensitive and press firmly. His cock jumps and arousal leaks down to the thatch of hair at the base.

“Oh my god, I need to touch you. Please, please, please, let me touch you.” His whining cry, and the tear gliding down his cheek have you feeling weak.

You work your shorts off, finally exposing yourself to him. His hands are still pinned to the bed while you hover your sticky center over him. You sit on his stomach and rock yourself, not quite touching the head of his cock with your ass. His head is thrown back in concentration when you finally tell him, “You can touch me, Baby.”

His eyes shoot open, and his hands find your hips. Without a word, he has you on your back. “You gonna let me make you feel good, Sweetheart?” He’s wild, he looks like he wants to devour you, and you’re ready to let him do anything in this moment.

“Please, Eddie, anything you want.” His eyes are still wet from the edging. You’re running your finger along the purple marks you left on his chest, and he’s gone. You feel him ripping your shirt over your head and he’s throwing it out into the room.

He’s not gentle, and you’re not surprised. He’s not used to being teased like this. Your legs are spread wide, and his big hands pull you down into his waiting face. Immediately, he gets to work, he’s laid flat against the bed, his erection finally getting some friction while his tongue gets to taste you. It’s broad stripes along your slit with tiny kitten licks when he reaches your nub. Over and over and over. The movements are calculated. You’re watching him and he’s watching you. It’s when you start to rock your hips up to meet his mouth that he latches on to your clit with ferocity.

*bang* you’re writhing in pleasure. The feel of his mouth has you shaking uncontrollably, your moans get higher and higher until every muscle in your body is tense and you feel your center releasing. Eddie is practically growling as he laps up your arousal until your hands thread through his hair and you’re pulling him up to you.

“I need you inside me. I need it, Baby. Please.” Eddie is calming you down with a gentle shushing. His hands have found your face, and he kisses away the tears you didn’t know you had shed.

“I’m here, Sweetheart.” Kissing him now, with your taste on his tongue, you want it to last forever. You wrap your legs around his waist, hooking your ankles around him, pleading with your eyes. He leaves a kiss on your temple as he reaches for the small box on the nightstand. You watch, your body still boneless as he glides the condom down his length. You can’t remember the last time you had a man in this position. His body flush with your own, covering you, his face in your neck. Every inch of him makes your body hitch in excitement until you are completely full. You and Eddie are both open mouthed, and making silent noises until he moves. You’re meeting every thrust with your hips.

Moving in tandem, hard and fast, you know it won’t be long. Every thrust is hitting your most sensitive spot inside, while the hair at the base of his shaft tickles your clit. His breath on your neck, the whimpers and moans in your ear. It all feels so unbelievably good. You’re wound tightly again, already, sweat is collecting between your breasts that are pushed against Eddie’s chest.

“Oh, Baby, you’re fucking me so good. I’m gonna cum.” His reaction is to speed up even more, pounding you brainless. Only static and pleasure. That’s all that’s left of you as he uses you.

“Fucking cum with me.” The orgasm rips through you, and you’re screaming. If you had a brain to think with, you’d realize that if you were in your own room the sounds would be louder than any you’ve heard before. You can feel his thrust turning into a gentle rocking as he empties himself. And then, you’re both still, breathing into each other’s necks.

You lay together for a while, until you start to feel like you’re being suffocated. “Eddie, get off of me.” You reach down and give his ass a little slap. You think he might have drifted off to sleep while still inside of you.

He rolls over with a deep groan. You know you’ve worn him out, he looks exhausted. “Oh, Baby, I’ll be right back.”

You head to the bathroom and wash yourself. You count it as lucky that your apartments are identical, and guess that you could find some washcloths in the linen closet. When you reenter Eddie’s room, he hasn’t moved an inch. You remove the condom and clean him off while he makes little noises. You find his boxers and guide them up over his slender hips. After you find your own underwear, you climb into bed and cozy up into his chest.

“Sweetheart?” His voice is full of sleep and barely whispered. You hum back to him. “Can I keep you? Will you be mine?”

“Yes, Eddie.”

tagging: @missmarch-99 @powderblueblood @thornsnvultures @corrodedcorpses @munsonburn3r

@definitionwanderlust @mopeymopeymouse

[brunchable]

This is your boyfriend, Mom?- Part 1.5 || Lucas Roasts the Avengers.

Pairings: Beefy Bucky Barnes x Our savage wittle boi Lucas. Summary: Avengers getting a taste of Lucas' fresh roasts. A/N: Some of you are asking for me to bring Lucas back so here you go. Enjoy ;u;

Lucas’s small legs dangled back and forth, his sneakers brushing against the ground. 

“Alright, kid. I’ll take you to meet the Avengers, but only if you promise me one thing.”

“What kind of promise?” Lucas eyed him suspiciously, his legs swinging out in front of him as he twisted around to look at Bucky.

Bucky leaned against the swing set, lowering his voice conspiratorially as he gave Lucas another small push. “You have to roast them—just like you did to me when we first met.”

Lucas’s eyes widened, and he twisted his body back to face forward, digging his heels into the dirt to bring the swing to a sudden stop. 

“Absolutely not. No way, metal mop. I’m not roasting Tony Stark, or Clint, or—” He paused for emphasis, staring Bucky dead in the eye. “—Captain America.”

Bucky blinked, caught off guard by the firm rejection. He reached out and gave the swing a gentle nudge, sending Lucas slowly drifting back and forth again. 

“Wait, what? Why not?”

Lucas tilted his head as he swung back, glancing over his shoulder at Bucky as if the older man were the one acting ridiculous. “Because they’re superheroes, duh! I’m not just gonna insult them like I did you. They’re cool.”

Bucky placed a hand over his chest in mock offense, giving the swing another light push. “Oh, so I’m not cool enough to be a superhero?”

Lucas gave him a long, exaggerated look up and down as he swung higher before smirking. “You’re more like my mom’s grumpy boyfriend with a shiny arm. That’s not the same thing.”

Bucky’s mouth fell open, and he let out an incredulous laugh. He stepped behind the swing, giving it a bit more momentum. 

“What the h—? You little punk,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You roasted me without any hesitation, but you’re too scared to go after them?”

“I’m not scared!” Lucas retorted quickly, his cheeks flushing red. He jutted his chin out defiantly as the swing carried him forward. “I just think Captain America deserves respect. And Tony? He’s like… really rich. He probably buys people’s opinions.”

Bucky let out a snort of amusement, crossing his arms as Lucas swung back. He gave the swing another gentle push. “And Clint?”

“Clint’s got arrows. Lots of them. What if he shoots me?”

“He won’t shoot you, kid.” Bucky’s grin widened as he leaned closer, pushing the swing with a bit more force so Lucas’s laughter rang out in the air. “I bet he’ll love it if you roast him.”

Lucas shook his head firmly, the swing rocking back and forth in a steady rhythm. “Nope. Not doing it. They’re cool. You—” He paused, poking Bucky’s shoulder with a tiny finger as he swung past. “—are not.”

“Alright, fine,” Bucky said, shrugging nonchalantly as he walked around to the front of the swing, facing Lucas as he continued to push. “Guess we won’t go, then. I’ll just tell them you were too chicken to say anything.”

Lucas’s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on the swing chains. “Chicken?”

“Yeah,” Bucky taunted, lifting an eyebrow as he stopped the swing with a hand on Lucas’s shoulder. “Too scared to handle it. Guess I overestimated you.”

Lucas’s jaw tightened, and his hands clenched around the chains. He took a deep breath, his expression shifting from uncertainty to determination. 

“Okay, fine. I’ll roast them,” he said slowly, enunciating each word. “But I’m not going easy on you even if they’re in the room.”

Bucky grinned and stepped back, giving the swing another playful shove. “Deal. Bring your best game, smart mouth.”

× × × × 

The Next Day: Meeting the Avengers

“Hey, there’s the little guy,” Tony announced as Lucas walked into the room, flanked by Bucky. He glanced at Steve, Clint, and Sam, raising his eyebrows. “So, this is Bucky’s mini bodyguard?”

Lucas looked around at the group of men towering over him and frowned. “Huh, I thought superheroes were supposed to be big and impressive.”

Clint snorted, leaning against the back of the couch. “Oh, trust me, kid, we’re impressive. You just can’t see it from down there.”

Lucas narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure you’re a superhero? You look more like my art teacher. Y’know, the one who tells me to express myself every time I draw something horrible.”

Clint gaped, his finger pointing at Lucas in pure shock. “I—I do not—”

“Do you also tell people that staring at the trees helps with inspiration?” Lucas asked, crossing his arms with a critical look.

Clint’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water before he spluttered, “That’s—you can’t—”

Lucas raised an eyebrow. “Do you stutter in battle too?”

Everyone burst into laughter as Clint waved his hands frantically, still trying to form a coherent response. “I—well, yeah, but only when—wait, no! That’s not the point!”

Steve chuckled, shaking his head, but before he could say anything, Lucas turned to him. 

“And you,” he said, eyeing the Captain America uniform sceptically. “Aren’t you supposed to be the ‘Star-Spangled Man with a Plan?’ Because right now, I’m not convinced you even have a plan on how to button your shirt.”

Steve’s jaw dropped as he looked down at his perfectly buttoned shirt. “What’s wrong with my shirt?”

Lucas squinted, leaning closer like he was inspecting a mystery. “It’s too tight. Or are you just so big you can’t fit into regular people’s clothes?”

“Hey, I like my shirts this way,” Steve retorted, folding his arms with a smirk. “It’s called having a sense of style, which I’m guessing you haven’t developed yet, mini mop.”

“Style?” Lucas snorted. “Yeah, you’ve got so much style that old people see you and think they’re looking at their yearbook photos.”

Bucky snickered, trying to keep a straight face as Steve glared at him. “Hey, I didn’t bring him here to insult your fashion choices, Steve. I swear.”

Lucas turned his gaze to Sam, who was smirking at Steve’s discomfort. “Don’t look so smug, Birdman. Shouldn’t you be outside flying or something?”

Sam’s mouth fell open. “Birdman? And who said I should—”

“I bet you flap your wings at night and make ‘caw-caw’ noises in your sleep,” Lucas continued, his expression completely serious.

“Kid, I will have you know, I am a dignified, high-tech—”

“High-tech what? Feathery nugget?” Lucas tilted his head and looked at Sam’s wings thoughtfully. “Hey, what do you even eat? Seeds? Bird pellets?”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up as he pointed at Lucas in disbelief. “Hold up, did this mini mop just compare me to a parakeet? Bucky, you need to get a leash on him or something!”

Lucas nodded thoughtfully, ignoring Sam’s protests. “And, Mr. Tony Stark,” he said, turning to the billionaire, who raised his hands defensively.

“Easy, there, killer,” Tony warned with a grin. “I’m sensitive, you know.”

Lucas scoffed. “Sensitive? You’re wearing sunglasses indoors. Who do you think you are, the sun?”

Tony blinked, reaching up to touch his glasses before shaking his head with a chuckle. “Alright, you got me there.”

“And another thing—why’s your goatee shaped like that? It looks like you glued on two fuzzy caterpillars and called it a day.”

“Oh my God—HEUH—” Clint snorted forward into laughter while leaning on Sam, while Sam practically howled.

Tony straightened his back, placing a hand on his chest as if deeply offended. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You’ve got some nerve coming in here and insulting a billionaire genius. This goatee cost me a thousand bucks—”

“For what? Your caterpillars to have a vacation home?” Lucas asked, looking up at him sceptically.

Sam snorted, slapping his knee. “He’s really got you there, Tony.”

“Don’t you laugh, Birdman!” Tony shot back, gesturing wildly at Sam. “This kid’s roasting you like a Thanksgiving turkey too.”

Lucas tilted his head, pointing at Tony. “I bet you plug yourself into a wall socket at night to recharge.”

“Okay, that’s not—You know what? I’m not even going to—” Tony ran a hand through his hair, clearly flustered. “Why did you bring this pint-sized terror in here, Buck?”

“Just for fun,” Bucky replied smugly, crossing his arms. “He’s got guts, doesn’t he?”

Lucas turned to Clint, pointing at him again. “You know, you’re not really a superhero. You’re just an overachieving bow and arrow guy. Like, have you ever heard of a gun?”

Clint opened his mouth to retort, but Lucas didn’t give him a chance. 

“And Mr. Wilson,” he said, shifting his attention back to the Falcon. “You have a metal bird suit but no superpowers? Dude, you’re just one technology failure away from becoming a guy running around with metal scraps strapped to his back.”

The room went silent for a moment, everyone too stunned to react. Then, Tony raised his hand, grinning. “Okay, kid, I officially like you.”

“Don’t be too proud, Mr. Stark,” Lucas replied coolly, turning to him with a smirk. “You’re basically a walking vending machine.”

Tony’s grin vanished. “What the—”

“Yep. Just one button away from giving out soda and snacks,” Lucas finished, shrugging.

Steve tried not to stifle a laugh and failed miserably. He glanced at Bucky, who looked like he might burst from pride. “I think you’ve found your match, Buck.”

Bucky leaned down, ruffling Lucas’s hair. “Y’know what, kid? You might just make me look good in front of these losers.”

Lucas shrugged nonchalantly. “Just doing my job, Mr. Metal Mop.”

“Metal Mop?” Clint repeated, raising an eyebrow at Bucky.

“Long story,” Bucky muttered, shaking his head.

“Hey, Captain America. Ever think about upgrading to a newer version?” Lucas grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“What?” Steve asked, bewildered.

“Yeah,” Lucas continued. “I mean, you’ve been around since the 40s. Don’t you think it’s time to, I dunno, get with the times? Maybe drop the shield and use a smartphone or something.”

Steve stared at him, utterly speechless. “I don’t need—”

“Sure, you do. Bet you still have a flip phone.”

“Hey, what’s wrong with flip phones?” Steve grumbled, crossing his arms.

“Gramps,” Lucas deadpanned. “Everything.”

“Watch it, smart mouth,” Steve retorted, pointing a finger at Lucas. “Last I checked, I still had a fan club and you’re not on the list.”

“Fan club? I think they’re more like a ‘Bring Back the 40s’ club,” Lucas shot back.

“Okay, that’s it. Buck, you’re out, and I’m adopting him,” Steve declared with a grin. “Gotta make sure this kid’s on my side before he turns into a Tony Stark wannabe.”

“He just called me smart, can I stay with him instead?” Lucas looked up at Bucky with wide eyes.

“Absolutely not!” Bucky shot back, placing a protective arm around Lucas’s shoulders.

Lucas snorted but turned his gaze to Natasha, who had been standing quietly with an amused smile on her face. He shifted nervously on his feet, his previous confidence wavering as he cleared his throat.

“And you,” Lucas said softly, his tone changing completely as he looked up at Natasha. “You’re… um… really nice. And… and I like your hair.”

Natasha’s eyebrows rose slightly, her smile softening at the change in his demeanor. “Well, thank you, Lucas,” she replied gently, her voice kind. “I like your hair too.”

Lucas’s cheeks flushed a faint pink, and he glanced at the floor, shuffling his feet. “Yeah, um… it’s, uh, good to meet you, Miss Natasha.”

The entire room fell silent as everyone watched the scene unfold, completely caught off guard by Lucas’s sudden transformation into a little gentleman.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, glancing between Lucas and Natasha. “What—no roasting for her?”

Lucas looked up at Bucky with wide, incredulous eyes. “Are you kidding? You can’t roast a lady. That’s just… that’s just wrong!”

“Wait, so she’s off the hook, but we’re fair game?” Tony’s jaw dropped, and he pointed at Natasha.

“Uh, yeah,” Lucas replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “She’s a lady, and she’s got really nice hair.”

Natasha laughed softly, shaking her head. “Well, thank you, Lucas. You’re quite the charmer.”

“Just don’t let it go to your head,” Sam muttered, giving Natasha a teasing look. “Kid’s been roasting us like chestnuts on an open fire.”

Natasha smirked, glancing at Sam. “Looks like you boys just need to step up your game.”

Lucas looked around the group, his grin widening. “Just wait till I meet the Hulk.”

Steve and Sam exchanged a glance, smirking. “I don’t know if the Hulk will survive,” Sam muttered.

“Or if we will,” Tony agreed, rubbing his goatee.

“Hey, kid,” Clint called out, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. “You ever see someone shoot an arrow through ten different targets at once?”

Lucas raised an eyebrow. “What’s the point of that? Seems like a lot of work when you could just use a laser pointer.”

“Kid’s gonna get us all fired,” Sam muttered, shaking his head. “And I’m gonna help him.”

The group dissolved into laughter again, and Bucky looked down at Lucas with a proud smile. “Y’know what, Lucas? You’ve officially made me look cool.”

“Well, someone had to do it. You’re welcome, Mr. Metal Mop.” Lucas shrugged nonchalantly. 

“Alright, kid, we’ve had our fun,” Tony said, offering a small smile. “You got anything good to say about us. . . Men, or are we just target practice?”

Lucas squinted, tapping his chin as if deep in thought. “Hmm… Well, I guess I can say some nice stuff… if you’re up for it.”

Clint folded his arms, an amused smirk on his lips. “Oh, this ought to be good. Go ahead, kid, give us your best compliment.”

Lucas looked at Clint and shrugged. “Alright, bow guy, you’re probably the coolest archer I know.”

Clint raised an eyebrow, surprised by the praise. “Really? That’s—”

Lucas tilted his head. “But only because I don’t know any other archers. I mean, it’s not like I’m hanging out with Robin Hood on the weekends.”

Clint’s face dropped, and Tony burst into laughter, slapping Clint on the back. “Don’t worry, Legolas, he’s just getting started.”

Lucas turned his attention to Tony. “As for you, Mr. Stark, I guess you’re okay too.”

Tony looked pleased. “I’ll take it. See, Bucky? The kid does have taste.”

“Yeah,” Lucas continued, “You’re like the rich uncle who shows up to family reunions and brags about his new car but doesn’t let anyone touch it.”

Tony’s grin vanished, and Steve snorted. “He’s not wrong, Tony.”

“Excuse me, I—” Tony began, but Lucas held up a hand.

“I mean, you’re cool, but you still look like you’d hand out business cards to your own reflection.”

“Okay, wow,” Tony muttered, rubbing his goatee. “Kid’s savage. I like it.”

“Don’t take it too personally, Tony,” Clint teased. “I think that’s the closest he’s come to saying he likes you.”

Lucas turned to Clint again and grinned. “Actually, I do like you, Clint.”

Clint’s face lit up. “You do?”

“Yeah, you seem like the guy who’ll teach me how to sneak out of the house or pick a lock.”

Clint looked up at the rest of the Avengers, pointing at them with a wide grin. “Hear that, guys? I’m the bad influence! Finally, I’ve got a reputation!”

“Congratulations, Barton,” Tony deadpanned. “Parent of the year material right there.”

Sam cleared his throat, pointing at himself. “Hey, what about me, kid? You got something nice to say?”

Lucas looked Sam up and down, a contemplative look on his face. “You’re… well, you’re definitely… not as annoying as I thought you’d be.”

Sam blinked, and Tony burst into laughter. “Ha! Take that, Birdman!”

“Wait a second—” Sam protested, “Not as annoying? That’s it?”

Lucas shrugged, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, I mean, I thought you’d squawk a lot more. So… good job not doing that.”

Clint chuckled, shaking his head. “Hey, at least you’re getting a compliment, Wilson.”

Sam grumbled, crossing his arms. “Yeah, whatever. I’m still the coolest here.”

Bucky, feeling left out of the back-and-forth, leaned down to Lucas. "Alright, smart mouth, since you're handing out compliments, what do you have to say about me?" 

Lucas gave Bucky a long, thoughtful look before replying. "You're... okay." 

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "Okay? That's all I get?" 

Lucas shrugged. "Well, you did bring me here to meet these guys, and I guess you don't totally suck at being a superhero. But your hair still looks like it's trying to escape from your head.”

The rest of the Avengers burst out laughing, and Bucky’s mouth dropped open as he instinctively reached up to touch his hair.

“My hair’s fine!” he exclaimed, looking around for support. “Right, guys?”

“Yeah, Buck,” Tony said, barely able to contain his laughter. “It’s totally not fleeing in horror. You’re good.”

“Absolutely,” Clint agreed, wiping a tear from his eye. “Just maybe… get a helmet?”

Bucky’s jaw dropped, and he looked back down at Lucas with a mock scowl. “You’re lucky I like you.”

Lucas beamed up at him. “Back at ya, Mr. Metal Mop.”

The room finally settled down, and Tony stepped forward again, leaning down to Lucas’s level with a curious expression.

“Alright, kid, we’ve had our fun,” Tony said, offering a small smile. “You got anything else to say?”

Lucas shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, I guess you guys are… kind of cool.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Kind of cool?”

“Yeah,” Lucas continued, “In an ‘awkward dads who try too hard to be funny’ kind of way.”

Clint, Steve, Sam, and Tony exchanged glances before collectively bursting into laughter. Bucky let out a sigh of relief, grateful to be off the hook.

“Okay, I think we’ve had enough roast for one day,” Bucky said, gently patting Lucas on the shoulder. “What do you say we let these guys get their dignity back?”

Lucas pretended to consider it, then nodded. “Alright. But only because you asked nicely.”

“Nicely?” Steve repeated with a grin. “Buck doesn’t know the meaning of the word.”

Lucas shrugged. “Yeah, he’s more like ‘grumble, grumble, metal arm’ all the time.”

Bucky groaned, but there was a fond smile on his face. “Let’s go, kid. We’ve done enough damage for one day.”

As they turned to leave, Tony called out, “Hey, Lucas!”

Lucas glanced back. “Yeah?”

“You should come back,” Tony said with a grin. “We need someone to keep us on our toes.”

Clint nodded in agreement. “And maybe next time, I’ll teach you how to shoot ten arrows at once.”

“Or maybe I’ll let you fly my wings,” Sam offered with a smirk.

“Or,” Tony added with a sly grin, “we build a robot together that’ll really show these guys what’s up.”

Lucas’s face lit up, and he glanced up at Bucky. “Can we, Mr. Metal Mop? Can we come back?”

Bucky glanced around at his friends, seeing the hopeful and genuinely fond expressions on their faces. He couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, kid, we can come back.”

Lucas grinned and looked back at the Avengers. “Cool. But next time, bring the Hulk. I wanna see if he’s really that green, or if he’s just been eating too many vegetables.”

The room erupted in laughter again, and Bucky shook his head, placing a hand on Lucas’s shoulder as they walked out.

“Yeah, you’re definitely one of us now, kid,” Clint called out. “Just don’t teach us all your secrets, okay?”

Lucas shot him a cheeky grin. “No promises, Sparkeye.”

With one last round of laughter, Bucky and Lucas left the room, the sound of their new friends’ chuckles echoing down the hall.

“See? I told you they’d like you,” Bucky murmured.

Lucas glanced up at him, a proud smile on his face. “I guess you don’t totally suck, Mr. Metal Mop.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get used to saying that,” Bucky muttered, but he couldn’t hide his grin.

The two of them continued down the hall, and as they turned the corner, Bucky knew one thing for sure—Lucas had definitely found a home with the Avengers.

[scarlethexelove]

I saw that you are looking for requests & I had an idea after seeing a BTS photo of Kate Bishop/Hailee’s face all bruised/cut.

What if Kate comes back from a mission and reader sees her all bruised and wants to help, but Kate is frustrated and angry after the mission and fucks reader w/a strap until she feels better 😅🥰

Let Me Use You

Not my gif found from google

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Reader

Word Count: 2698

Warnings: Smut, Dom!Kate, Sub!Reader, Fingering (R receiving), Strap-on (R receiving), Squirting, Dacryphilia, Slight Bondage, Light Marking. I think that is it.

A/n: This one was fun I love Kate so much. Thanks for the request for her. Hope you enjoy.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

You’re sitting on the couch in your living room. A movie playing on the Tv as you eat some popcorn. The night is quiet and your girlfriend should be on a mission. It worries you but you know she will come home safe to you. She has to come home safe, you think to yourself. You have been dating Kate for a year now. You met her when she saved you from being mugged. You were so thankful but couldn’t help but reflect on the beautiful girl that saved you that night. It brings a smile to your face. You never dreamed of dating an avenger. A regular girl who just so happens to have stolen the heart of an avenger. 

You're pulled from your thoughts when you hear a crash in your bedroom. You scramble putting your popcorn down on the coffee table quickly kicking the blankets off your lap and getting up. You grab the baseball bat that is sitting by the front door and make your way down the hall. You can hear some grunts as you get closer. With your heart beating out of your chest you grab the handle. You take a deep breath before twisting the knob and swinging the door open. Charging in with the bat held high ready to hit whoever is in your room. 

You scream closing your eyes and swinging the bat down. You feel the momentum of the bat before it stops. You slowly open your eyes to see piercing blue eyes staring back at you. Those blue eyes that you would know anywhere. “What the hell was that Y/n/n?” Kate questions you loudly. “I-I-I thought you were an intruder. You - you're supposed to be on a mission.” You stammer, setting the bat down. 

Kate sighs, her shoulders are tense and you can now see the scratches and bruises littering her face. You quickly move forward and reach for her face but she grabs your hands pulling them around her waist as she pulls you close crashing her lips into yours. You get lost in the kiss before remembering what was just happening so you pull back. Which elicits a growl from the back of your girlfriend's throat. She pulls you closer by your hips but you stand strong even if your knees feel weak. Your girlfriend's possessive behavior always having an effect on you. 

“Your hurt Katie please let me help.” You try to persuade the woman in front of you. “I’m fine princess. I was checked at the compound.” She tells you which makes you feel better. But that still leaves a question in your mind and like she knew the next words that were going to come out of your mouth she speaks again. “I lost my keys and my phone is dead so I climbed up the escape ladder.” You can’t help but chuckle at this. It has been the first time and it more than likely won’t be the last. 

You can still feel how tense she is while holding you. So you give her a gentle kiss before looking into her eyes. “What’s wrong baby?” You ask her, moving your hand and gently caressing her cheek.  “Let me use you” She growls before attacking your neck leaving reddish purple marks. You let out a groan and your legs almost give out, but Kate's hold on you keeps you in her arms. “K-katie?” You stutter out. She hums against your neck lifting you into her arms. You wrap your legs around her waist as she carries you towards the bed. You’ve seen her like this a few other times and know exactly what she wants so you let her do it. You can’t complain because you get so much pleasure out of it too. 

Kate tosses you on the bed before climbing on top of you. She continues to attack your neck and slowly move down. Once she reaches your shirt she gets a little frustrated with it being in the way so she leans up and rips your shirt down the middle. “Katie!” You yell at her. “I’ll buy you a new one.” She grumbles before leaning back down and leaving marks on your chest. She pulls your bra down letting your breast spill out. Taking your nipple into her mouth, scraping her teeth over the sensitive bud before sucking harshly. You moan out and your hand flies to her hair gripping harshly. Her hand moving to your other nipple tweaking it between her fingers making sure that it gets the same attention. Once she is satisfied she moves her mouth to your other hardened peak and does the same.

You grip her tightly and pull her closer. “Katie please.” Your whines fill the room as you start to buck your hips for some form of relief. You can feel her smile around your nipple before she pulls back and sits up looking down at you. She climbs off of you which causes you to whine and for her to chuckle. “Get undressed princess.” She tells you heading into the closet. You take no time and start to do what she says. “Leave your underwear on pretty girl.” She pokes her head out from around the corner of the closet, a dark look in her eyes. Once you are done you sit back down on the bed waiting for your girlfriend to come back out. 

After what feels like an eternity your wetness soaking your underwear in anticipation for what is to come Kate walks out. A large purple strap hanging from her hips makes you squirm. It must be new and it looks bigger than anything you have taken before. You let out a small whimper before trailing up to her eyes. You see some bruising on her side which concerns you. You get up and start making your way to her forgetting all about what was going on before. “Oh Katie.” You say holding her hips and taking a look at her side. 

Kate grabs your hands and places them together. She starts to tie your hands together with the rope that you had totally missed. “I told you I’m fine princess. I just need to use your pretty little body for some stress release. Can you let me do that sweet girl?” You nod when looking back up into her beautiful blown out blue eyes. “Good girl.” She praises you as she leads you back to the bed. 

“Lay down.” Kate tells you. You scramble the best you can onto the bed with your hands tied. She gets on after you and settles between your legs. She takes your tied hands and moves them above your head before tying them to the headboard. You wiggle a bit and whine. You knew it was happening but you didn’t want it to. You want to be able to touch your girlfriend. She just gives you a sickly sweet smile and kisses your head before settling back. 

Kate licks her lips as she looks down at how you have soaked through your underwear. “As much as I want to taste you baby girl, that will just have to wait. I want to see your pussy stretched out around my cock.” You look down at her as she jerks her faux cock. “Too big.” You whimper, which makes her grin wider. “Don’t worry your pretty little head princess. I’ll make it fit.” She presses a finger to your clit through your underwear, which causes you to squirm and moan. Your hands balled into fist as you pull on the restraints trying to reach for her. But she doesn’t pay you any mind with that. She pushes your panties to the side and uses two fingers to tease your entrance. 

You buck your hips hoping that with Kate's frustrations she won’t tease you tonight. She loves to tease you for hours before finally fucking you. And lucky for you tonight she takes mercy on you. She shoves two fingers into you and quickly starts working them in and out. She doesn’t give you much time to adjust but you're already so wet for her that you don’t really need it. “F-fuck Katie.” You moan out. 

Your hips bucking into Kate’s hand as she pounders her fingers into your pussy. She curls them expertly as she draws them out. Her skilled fingers are already bringing you close to the edge. Her thumb moving and pressing down on your bundle of nerves. Your whimpers and moans echoing off the walls. “Always such pretty noises.” Kate purs. She adds a third finger stretching you deliciously. Her fingers picking up even more speed that you didn’t know was possible. Your hips bucking wildly as your walls clench tightly around her fingers drawing them in more. The knot in your stomach is close to snapping. “You want to cum pretty girl? Cum on my fingers show me how good I make you feel.” You push your head back into the pillows as a loud moan is ripped from the back of your throat. Your legs tremble and you try to close them as your orgasm takes over you. Kate pushes them open as your cum coats her fingers. 

She keeps working you through your orgasm. She starts scissoring her fingers a bit inside you as she pulls out. Stretching you out so that you are prepared to take her strap. Your whimpers are heard as she knows you're a bit sensitive now but she just wants to make sure. Once she deems you ready for her cock she pulls them out and pops her fingers into her mouth. She moans at your taste as she sucks them dry. Your chest is heaving as you watch the woman you love. “Fuck tastes so delicious. Not as good as right from the source but I’ll have to come back to that later when you're all messy and I need to clean you up.” She smiles and you shudder at her words. 

Kate leans down and kisses you making you taste yourself on her lips. You moan into her mouth from your taste and when you feel her faux cock nudging against your clit. She pulls back and looks into your eyes. Her pupils are dark and blown with desire. She gives you another quick peck before sitting back on her knees. She pushes your underwear out of the way with her cock as she brings it to your entrance. She slowly pushes the head of her cock in. You can tell she wants to go faster, to ruin you right away but she doesn’t want to hurt you. 

You flex your hands before balling them into fist as the head makes its way into velvety walls. Already feeling fuller than you ever have before. Kate pushes her hips forward as you take more. The stretch is deliciously painful as she sinks her cock all the way in, down to the base. You whine at the stretch and how full it makes you feel. “I know princess. I know it’s a lot but it will feel so good soon I promise.” Kate coos as she wipes the tears rolling down the side of your face. You hadn’t even realized that you were crying. You hate to admit how good the pain felt. 

After a moment you start to grind your hips into Kate. You wrap your legs around her signaling to her that she is ok to move. She waist no time in pulling back till only the tip is in before snapping her hips forward. She has been fighting to not to just ruin you. She loves to see you cry as she fucks you hard and rough. How your body reacts under her touch. You were made for her to use and to fuck for her own please. 

Kate pounds into you mercilessly as she sees your tears rolling down the side of your face, your eyes closed as you’re lost in the pleasure. . Your mouth hangs open as your moans fill the room. Kate moves her hand down between your bodies and you feel a small vibration come to life. You snap your eyes open and look at your girlfriend. She moans as she snaps her hips. She has a vibrator in the base to help with her pleasure, which gives you a bit more. She turns it up causing both of you to moan at the same time. 

You throw your head back as you buck your hips and pull her closer by your legs. Kate loves when you're so eager to please her. She works the cock in and out of your soaked cunt. The squelching sounds of your pussy filling the room along with your combined moans and some of Kate’s grunts. You pull on your restraints in dire need to touch her to pull her even closer. She notices and gives in. Working to untie you as she never falters in her quick deep thrust. Once she is able to release your hands, they immediately move to her back and you dig your nails in. This causes Kate to moan at the pleasurable sting. She loves it when you mark up her back. 

You drag your nails down her back as you pull her closer trying to help her thrust. Your walls clench around her cock as she pushes into you. If she meets any resistance you can’t tell. “Fuck! You're so pretty when you cry and let me use you like this.” Kate leans down and kisses you. Rutting her strap into you as she does so. She pulls away from your heated kiss and places her head on yours. Watching your face as she continues to fuck you. “Mmm s-so good Katie.” You whimper and moan the knot growing tighter in your lower stomach again. 

Kate's thrust starts to get sloppier as she gets closer to impending release. Your nails dig in more to her back, her thrust causing scratches to appear up and down her back. You tear stained cheeks sending her into more of a frenzy. Wanting both of your releases. 

With Kate’s sloppy thrust and your walls clenching hard around your cock it isn’t long before both of your orgasms are daring to crash over the both of you. “Cum with me princess.” Kate mutters before kissing you hard. Her body goes ridge above you. You moan into her mouth as your mutual orgasms wash over the both of you. You cum coating her cock, squirting out onto her abdomen and soaking the sheets below you. Kate moans and looks down watching your juices flow out of you. She ruts her cock into you as she helps you both ride out your highs. 

Once she stops leaving her cock buried deep inside of your soaked cunt and she shuts off the vibe. She rolls you both on your sides as you cuddle in close to her. “I-I’m sorry.” You stutter out. Upset with the mess you just made. “Don’t be princess that was super fucking hot.” She caresses your cheek and smiles gently at you. You nuzzle into her hand. Both enjoying the soft moment. 

“Feel better baby?” You ask Kate as your breathing gets back to normal and your legs aren’t trembling as much. “Much. Thank you baby for letting me use you.” She kisses you softly. You can’t help but chuckle. “How can I say no when the orgasms are mind blowingly good when you're like that.” This causes you both to break out in a fit of giggles. Once those giggles die down again you both lay there in utter bliss. Kate shifts unexpectedly causing you to moan as the cock still buried deep inside of you moves. 

You watch as Kate’s gaze darkens again. The sound of your moan revitalizing her need for you and to destroy you. She starts to gently thrust again and you know now that you're in for a very long night. “I love you princess.” Kate mutters her head presses back against yours as she thrust. “I love you too.” You reply. Ready for the long night ahead.

[natashaslesbian]

Accidents Happen

Summary: You have an accident at the park while out with your moms

Request: a Wandanat story where they are spending a nice family day together when something happens to R, maybe gets hurt or something. Protective mamas

Word Count: 977

Warnings/Content: Broken Arm

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“Mommy, mama look at me!” You called out to Natasha and Wanda, requesting that they watch you going down the slide yet again. Your moms had a rare day off from their lives as avengers so they decided to take you out for a picnic. “Woah baby that was super fast!” Wanda exclaimed as you came down racing down the slide, a little too quickly for her liking. You skipped back over to the flowery blanket, desperate for a sip of your juice. “Are you having fun?” Natasha asked as she passed you your bottle “yes!” You beamed before gulping down the rest of your juice.

“I wanna go on the monkey bars!” You said excitedly, pointing back to the rusty metal frame. “Aw baby I think you’re still a little too young for the monkey bars” Your mommy sympathised, knowing how badly you wanted to try it. “That’s what you said last time!” You whined, throwing your arms into the air in dramatic style “please mommy” you begged with your best puppy eyes. Wanda sighed as she looked to her wife for her opinion “how about mama comes with you so I can help you hold on?” Natasha said. You jumped with joy, reaching out to pull your mom over to the climbing frame.

You had the widest smile as you climbed up the short ladder, Natasha standing closely behind you. “Okay hold on tight baby” she said as she lightly gripped your waist. “I will mama!” You smiled before gently swinging into Natasha’s hold. “Look at you! Now reach out for the next bar” your mom guided, not taking her eyes off of you even for a moment. “Mommy are you watching!” You yelled out to Wanda. “I am sweetheart! You’re doing such a good job” the brunette grinned as she filmed you with her phone, wanting to capture the moment. “I did it!” You cheered when you reached the other side “can I do it by myself now?” You begged. Natasha was skeptical to let you try alone but your mama just couldn’t resist your pleading eyes. “Okay baby, but be careful alright!” The redhead said.

You shuffled excitedly on your little feet, preparing yourself with a small wiggle. “Mamas gonna stand close to you okay?” Natasha said as she stood ready with open arms. “Okay, I go now!” You smiled as you reached up to grab hold of the bars. The moment went in slow motion for you but Natasha swears her life flashed before her eyes as you made it across the monkey bars alone. “Well done sweetie!” Wanda called when you made it to the other side. “I did it!” You beamed clapping your hands along with Natasha. “Mama go sit I can do it now” you said as you gently pushed the redhead away. “Are you sure?” Natasha asked “yes mommy” you sighed as you rolled your eyes. “Okay then, but remember to hold on tight!” Natasha said, giving you her serious mom face. “Okay mama” you smiled.

Natasha reluctantly returned to the picnic blanket, still looking back to make sure you were okay. You were happily swinging across the monkey bars until you noticed that your mothers attention wasn’t on you. “Mommy, mama!” You whined as you hung down from a single bar. “Keep going baby we’re watching!” Wanda called, worried you didn’t have the strength to hold on much longer. You used your momentum to begin swinging again and were about to move forward when you swung back too hard and lost your grip on the bars. “Y/n!” Your moms called in unison, jumping to their feet with urgency. You didn’t realise what had happened until it was too late and you landed in the rubble, an intense pain shooting through your arm.

You screamed out in pain, breaking both Natasha and Wanda’s hearts “mommy! Mama!” You cried as your moms came rushing over to bundle you up in their arms. “It’s okay baby we’re here, you’re okay” Wanda cooed as she glanced at your arm, concerned with the growing purple bruise and swelling. A crowd soon gathered around you, other kids wanting to know what was happening while their parents attempted to pull them away. “I’m sorry mommies” you sobbed leaning into the witches hold “oh sweetie it’s okay we’re not angry with you” Natasha said as she gently ran her fingers through your hair. “You-you told me to be careful mama” you whined “and you were being careful y/n/n but accidents happen sometimes it wasn’t your fault okay” Natasha cooed. You groaned in agony when Wanda pulled you up into her embrace “sh sh sh, you’re okay we’re gonna go get your arm checked out okay just keep taking deep breaths” your mommy said as she carried you towards the car, making sure not to jostle you in her arms.

You spent a torturous three hours at the hospital, mostly in pain due to the departments busy state. You were exhausted when you were finally discharged, sporting a bright pink cast from your elbow to your wrist . The doctor said you were lucky, a clean break that would heal quickly, you begged to differ. “What do you say we go and get some ice cream brave girl?” Natasha asked as she buckled you into your car seat “no thank you mama” you sniffled, struggling to keep your eyes open. “Oh baby are you sleepy?” Wanda asked from the front seat. You nodded weakly, pulling at the redheads arm signalling you wanted her to stay with you. “Alright sweetie let’s get you home, you can nap on the way yeah?” Natasha said as she climbed into the car with you.

You fell asleep almost instantly with only one thing on your mind, next time you would wait till you were big enough for the monkey bars.

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A/N: Thank you sm for the request I hope you like it :))

- Astara Bell

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[Taglist]

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[clockwayswrites]

*whistles innocently* Feather won, eh?

cw: mentions of blood, gun violence

-

The whoop that Cassin lets out as he free falls for a moment is a bright note in the middle of Gotham’s dark streets. He gets why Dad didn’t let him out to actual fight crime until he was sixteen, but he really wishes he could have flown before then. There’s something about swinging between the buildings of Gotham that’s like nothing else. Cassin’s grapple finds purchase on the next building and there’s that gratifying pull at his muscles as his momentum is wrenched in another direction and he flings himself back up into the air.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever be tired of flying.

There’s barely a sound as he lands, a few swings later, on a roof. Cassin rolls through the movement and up onto the balls of his feet, testing the flex in the soles of the new boots. He’s relishing having enough of a growth spurt to need a new uniform. It’s not that he’ll ever be large, not like Bruce, but it would be nice not to be so tiny.

The crack of a gunshot rips through the air. Cassin is off, bounding across the roofs even as he taps his comm once to activate it.

“Gunshot, B. Single round, small caliber, no shouting,” Cassin rattles off.

“Location,” Batman rasps back.

“North Narrows, I’m almost there, and yes, I’m sticking to the roofs,” Cassin says. It was always best to reassure his dad, even when it’s less Dad and more Batman. “Suspect in sight, running north on Harris— shit, gunshot victim on the sidewalk.”

“See to the victim, I’ll intercept.”

“Gotcha,” Cassin agrees. He hops the last gap between buildings, catches his grapple on the lip of the roof, and slings himself down to street level.

Shit, that’s a lot of blood already. Cassin doesn’t have much hope as he pushes back the hood the person is wearing. The skin is deathly pale, pitch black hair frames the head like a dark halo. The eyes are closed.

They would be blue if they were open.

No they wouldn’t, he can’t know that. He doesn’t know that.

It’s just that…

It’s just that the face looks a lot like the one that Cassin sees every day on the walls of the manor. The face looks a lot like the big brother that Jason never got to know.

The comm sparks to life again. “Cassin, suspect heading back your way. Status?”

“They’re, um,” Cassin shakes his head and spins on his heels, looking for the suspect. Shit, he didn’t even take the pulse yet. There’s the suspect, swooping shadow of black close behind them. Cassin glances back over his shoulder and freezes.

“Cassin? Report!”

“They’re… they’re gone?”

-

The hinges scream as the door to the shoddy apartment opens. He’ll have to put that on his list of things to fix. Or maybe not, it was a good warning system. Not that Danny needs any warning right then, he knows who is coming in by the chill in his breath as it brushes across his lips.

He lets himself finish his thought before he sets down his pen and turns around with a smile. A smile that quickly turns into a sigh as he sees the mess. “Really? Another one? You’re going to have to start dressing all in black if you keep getting your clothing covered in blood like this.”

“No.”

“Yes,” Danny insists as he gets up and crosses the short distance between them. He pokes a finger through the bloody hole in the hoddie. “At least tell me there’s no bullet in you.”

“Through and through,” they chirped.

Not wanting to be fooled again, Danny looks up into the vivid golden eyes. They stare at each other for a long moment before Danny gives in with a sigh. “What am I going to do with you, my Robin?”

They tilted their head, the motion short and as bird like as their moniker. “Kiss me?”

Danny barks out a laugh and leans up to press a quick kiss to Robin’s lips. “Fair enough. Now go clean up and put your hoddie in water to soak. And remember this time, cold water, please?”

“Yes Danny,” Robin says and steals another kiss before they bounce off to do as told.

Danny rolls his eyes fondly and gets back to work.

[loveandpeaceanddoughnuts]

Over-Under: SparringInstructor!Toji x Reader

cw: porn with feelings, love confessions, smut // wc: 2,805 // [ao3]

You gritted your teeth as the wind was knocked out of you again, landing flat on your back on the mat. “Aren’t I supposed to be learning something here?”

Toji grinned down at you. “You are, doll. You’re learning how to fall.”

You pushed yourself to a crouch and swept out a leg, trying to knock him off balance. He side-stepped you easily, the cocky grin never leaving his face. “Quit telegraphing your moves. I can tell what you’re going to do just from your eyes.”

“You piss me off, Fushiguro.”

“Then act like it, pretty thing.”

You lunged forward, driving your fist toward his stomach in what you hoped would be a devastating blow. He took the hit and let the momentum carry you both back, forcing you to stumble forward against his broad chest. He slid his arms around your waist, dropping his lips to your ear. 

“If you wanted me to hold you that bad, you could’ve just asked.”

You shoved away from him. “Some fucking trainer.” 

He laughed, holding both hands up in mock surrender. “So feisty. That’s about the only thing you have going for you right now.” 

“I’ll show you feisty, asshole.” You launched yourself at him again, this time ducking under his lazy jab and landing a hook to his ribs that knocked the air out of his lungs. Approval flashed across his face as he bent double to suck in a breath. 

“There ya go, doll. Keep thinkin’ about how much you hate me,” he teased, returning to a fighting stance and beckoning you closer. “Or didja just get lucky?”

You brought your gloves up to your temples and rushed him again, letting anger carry you more than technique. He bobbed and weaved around your swings, surprisingly agile for a man of his bulk. He expertly maneuvered you into a corner. It wasn’t until your back hit a wall that you realized you were caged in.

He braced his hands on the wall above your head, leaning down into your space. “Good try, doll. You’re gettin’ better.” This close, you could see sweat beading on the tips of his choppy black bangs. You hated how much you liked the look of him like this, his tight black top soaked through and throwing every ridge and ripple of muscle into sharp relief. 

Toji followed your line of sight, a smirk spreading over his lips. “Like what you see?” Your scoff of denial was entirely unconvincing, and he knew it. “I don’t blame ya.” He flexed his biceps and gave you a stupid wink that made your stupid heart skip a beat.

“In your dreams.” You try to sound nonchalant, but your voice cracks. He’s so close. You can feel the heat coming off him, smell the exertion that somehow just makes you want more, makes you want to taste the salt-musk of him. You moved to duck under his arms and he brought them down to your shoulders, flattening his palms against the wall on either side of you. 

“Tapping out already, doll? There’s so much more I could show ya.” His voice is lower now, rough and promising. His gaze burned down your body, then dragged back up to your lips. “Maybe some things I could learn from you.” His smile is crooked, sharp, devastating. You want to suck at the faint scar that marks the corner of his mouth, but instead you laugh lightly.

“Like what?”

“Hmm, let me see.” He tilted his head at you, feigning thought. “Like how your lips taste.” He leaned closer. “What sounds you make when you come.” 

You trembled, pressing closer to the wall as if to ground yourself. You’d thought he’d at least beat around the bush a little longer, give you a chance to salvage your pride. You risked another glance down his body, this time taking in the sharp curve of his narrow waist and the expanse of his muscled thighs. Your breath hitched at the sight of the bulge that pressed against his joggers. 

“You see what you do to me?” Toji held your chin and gently tilted your head back up to face him. “But I bet you’re soaked through those cute little leggings, huh? I’ve seen how you look at me, doll. I wasn’t born yesterday.” He said it so casually, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it was. 

He snaked one big arm around your waist and pulled you to him, your body flush against his. His hold was firm, but gentle, and you couldn’t remember any of the techniques he’d been teaching you to break it. Your brain was completely empty, taken over by the distance between your lips and his mouth. 

“Go on, escape,” he whispered, his raspy voice shuddering through your chest. “Unless you don’t want to.”

You stood there dumbly, lips parted in a little “oh”. He bent and dragged his lips along your jaw, messy and demanding. You melted into the sensation, eyes closed in bliss as his nose slid along your cheekbone. His heavy breath puffed against your face, and you shuddered as you felt him smile, teeth sharp against soft skin.

“Seems like you don’t wanna escape, doll. Am I right? Is this lesson over?” A smug grin spread over his face as he continued kissing down your neck, lips hard and demanding over your racing pulse point. “Because it seems like I won.”

You reached up to drape your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and digging your nails into his shoulders. “You win, asshole,” you murmured into his chest, angling your head back in an invitation he eagerly accepted, hot kisses trailing down to your collarbones. 

“Mmm, but you’re gettin’ better,” he said, rough hands around your waist, shoving your tank top up. Toji dropped to his knees, his eager mouth now ravaging your stomach, your hips, up along your ribs and the swell of your tits. He moaned against your skin, the feeling sending sparks down your spine. You clutched at his hair, pressing him impossibly closer.

“You’re so cute when you’re needy,” he groaned, pulling away from you just long enough to tear his shirt over his head and toss it away. “Why dontcha see if you can pin me down?” 

You’d never back down from a challenge, especially not one given by the man who was currently kneeling at your feet, shirtless and glistening like a Greek god. You launched forward, aiming to tackle his shoulders and knock him off balance. The move worked perfectly, and in a few seconds you were panting on top of him, staring into his warm eyes as he huffed on his back on the mat. He looked proud of you, and it made you want to devour him. 

You sat up slowly, straddling his hips with a smirk of your own. “Gotcha, Fushiguro.”

“Yeah you do,” he breathed, almost reverent as he gazed up at you. “Damn good view, doll. Now that you have me, what are you gonna do with me?” 

The question made you throb, aching for him, and he knew it by the way you squirmed on his lap. The friction made his cock jump in response, and he sucked air through his teeth, big hands holding your hips still. “Careful,” he chided softly. 

“Why? We both know what comes next.” He laughed, effortlessly lifting you off of him and gently pushing you back on the mat. 

“Impatient for me, huh? You missed daddy’s cock that bad?”

“Shut up,” you whined, swiping at his stone abs above you with a weak shove. 

“Oh, I will, don’t worry.” He slid your leggings down your hips to  reveal your soaked panties. He nuzzled his nose against the wet spot and inhaled your scent. “Mmmm. Love my girl like this,” he sighed. You couldn’t help moaning at the pressure. You bucked your hips down on his face, chasing the friction desperately, and he laughed into your cunt. “I love that you love getting manhandled, kinky little thing.” He pulled away to smile wickedly. “Or is it just me that has you so messy? Would you still be this wet if I was all sweet and nice to ya?”

You mewled and reached down for his hair, trying to force him back down, but he easily evaded you to continue his teasing. “No, really. Would you be dripping on my tongue if all I did was give you sweet lil’ kisses? Maybe I should find out…” A faraway look crossed his face in the space of a heartbeat, too quick to question. He pulled your leggings up and settled himself over you again, making good on his threat with a soft, chaste kiss to your lips. His scarred hands were shockingly soft in your hair as he gently brushed it from your forehead so he could press another kiss there. He cupped your cheek in one calloused palm, rubbing his thumb along your bottom lip as he looked into your wide eyes. “Look so beautiful spread out under me,” he rumbled, the praise foreign on a tongue more used to talking shit. 

“Thank you,” you answered hesitantly, feeling suddenly fragile. He huffed a laugh and ran his hand through his hair. He must’ve hit you harder than you thought, because you almost thought you could see a blush on his cheeks as he leaned back down to you.

“I’m no good at this kinda thing,” he mumbled into your neck. 

For a moment, you couldn’t believe you heard him right. It wasn’t until you felt his shuddered breath against your skin that you processed what you heard. You wrapped your arms around his back, holding him close to fight the sudden fear that he would run and deny it all. 

“Like what?” You asked, breaking the tense silence. 

“Lovin’ you,” came his breathless answer. You tangled your fingers in his hair to tug his head back, searching for any hint that he was lying, that this was another tease. All you saw was an aching vulnerability in his deep blue eyes, his lips tight-pressed to keep from trembling. 

“Toji, you- what are you saying?”

“You heard me, doll. Don’t make me say it again,” he pleaded.

All you could do in response was draw him into a kiss, your mouth silently forming all the words that caught in your throat. He moaned into your mouth, the sound sending a pang to your chest. You had never felt him like this, stripped of his bravado and dominance, broken open in your arms.

“Toji, oh, Toji,” you breathed, gasping between deep kisses. His tongue pressed against your lips and you let him in, shivering at the insistent swipe of him exploring your mouth. You had fucked dozens of times, on the sparring mat, in the locker room, in the back of his car- but this kiss felt like the first time you had ever touched him.

You pulled his hair harder, your back arched into his grasp. You could feel his heart pounding, an echo of your own dizzied beat. You fumbled blindly for his waistband and dragged it down without breaking the kiss. Toji growled as his cock sprang free, the tip flushed and pearled with precome.

“Baby, can I-” Before you could finish asking permission he pushed himself into your hand, past caring how needy it made him, beyond anything but assuaging the want that coursed through him. He was undone from the moment you kissed him, the moment you accepted his confession without being horrified or laughing in his face.

You wrapped your fingers around his cock, smearing it with precome as you pumped your fist along his shaft. He shuddered as you worked him, heavy-lidded eyes staring down at where you held him tight. You had just settled into a rhythm when he pushed you away to tear your leggings down, impatient with the tight fabric. You laughed and lifted your hips to help give him access, and he groaned at the sight of your arousal leaking down your thighs. 

He cradled your head in his hand as he lowered you back down on the mat, making sure you were comfortable before he grasped his cock and aligned it with your drooling cunt. His breath hitched as he felt your heat around his tip, and it took all his effort to keep from slamming to the hilt. Instead, he pressed his forehead to yours, his voice betraying all his vulnerability and hope. 

“Do you still want this? Want- me? Knowing how I feel about you?”  

“I want you, Toji Fushiguro. More than anything.” You held his face in your hands, drinking in the look of awe that crept over it at your affirmation.

“Fuck doll. You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear that.” He rocked his hips forward as he captured your lips in an ardent kiss, the sweetness deepened by the feel of his thick length sliding against your fluttering walls. You wiggled your hips down to meet him, swallowing his moan. 

He set a rapid pace, the normal roughness of your couplings tempered with newfound passion as he kissed you harder, his hands adoring every inch of your exposed flesh. 

Your head fell back as he pounded into you, every stroke sending sparks down your spine. You wrapped your legs around him, your heels bouncing on his taut ass as he rutted deeper from the new angle. Every drag of his cock felt like it was stretching you wider, each twitch pressing his thick veins into your throbbing cunt. Your orgasm crept up your stomach, the pressure building as Toji messily kissed you in time with his thrusts.

“Toji, I- fuck, oh god, I…!” You squeezed your eyes shut, breath forced out of your lungs as he hiked your thighs to your shoulders.

“Yeah, baby? What do ya wanna say? I’m fuckin’ you dumb, huh? You feel so goddamn good, open those pretty eyes so I can see ya,” he babbled.

You opened your eyes, the words tumbling out of your parted lips with a rush of adoration and adrenaline. “I…I love you, Fushiguro!”

His hips stuttered. “Baby, you- fuck, you mean that?” He breathed hard, his eyes sparkling as they stared down at your flushed face. 

“Of course I do,” you cried, “I love you, I love you, love- you,” you kissed his face on each repetition of the phrase, salty skin against eager lips. A smile like the sun broke over Toji’s face, somehow both at odds with and perfectly fitting the brutal way he fucked you into the mat. He slammed wildly into you, his technique traded for intensity as he chased your frantic hips with his own. He gathered you effortlessly into his strong arms, holding you against his sweat-gilded chest. 

“Feel like I’m dreamin’, you’re too good for me, perfect lil’ doll,” he moaned.

“All yours,” you pant, curling into him, feeling his cock reach impossibly deep inside of you.

“Fuck, say that again,” he demanded.

“All yours, Toji, I’m all yours, all fuckin’ yours,” you said desperately, whole body thrumming with the need to come, to feel him come, to take everything he had to give. 

“You’re killin’ me,” he moaned, all rhythm abandoned as he buried himself into you, bouncing you on his muscular thighs like a toy. You rocked your hips against him as he bottomed out, the friction against your swollen clit rocketing you to your peak. You came with his name on your lips, your limp body held up by his cock and his corded forearms beneath your back. 

He followed you over the edge, his face twisted in ecstasy as he buried it in your neck, thick ropes of come poured deep into your womb. Some of it leaked out around his base, your juices mixing with his creamy seed as it ran down your trembling thighs. His grip didn’t weaken even as he softened inside of you. He held you even tighter, murmuring praise into your hair as his muscles relaxed. You stroked his cheek with a shaky hand, soft kisses along his sharp jaw.

A little of his old self showed in the smirk on his scarred lips. “You love me, huh? You really meant that?”

You rolled your eyes without any malice. “Yeah, I did. I do. Don’t make me regret admitting it, Fushiguro.”

He grinned and made a show of crossing his heart. “Wouldn’t dream of it, babydoll. Doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on ya in training, though…”

You shoved him lightly, as if his come wasn’t currently drying sticky between your legs. “Don’t you dare. I’ll win the next round.”

His smile was cocky and real and dazzling. “Sure ya will. I can’t wait.”

[sillysowa]

Ok I have a request :) could maybe guess who this is but AHDBSH

The fem reader is a villain while Hobie is the “hero”(not rlly but I forgot what it’s called) that’s been tracking down the reader. But, during the day the both live their normal lives, the readers day job being a barista at the local Cafe. Of course during the night her identity is hidden so she isn’t recognized during the day, which leads to the one morning when Hobie goes to the local coffee shop to order a drink and unknowingly ordering it from his masked nemesis.

What’d ya think? <3

I LOVE your brain anon! Sorry for the wait and if it seems rushed!

BEHIND THE MASK

pairing : hobie brown x fem!prowler!reader

genre : fluff, slightly suggestive

word count : 3k

warnings : violence

authors note : reader is the prowler but i have incredibly minimal knowledge on the prowler lol

synopsis : hobie has a date with a cute barista who just so happens to be the prowler

—

“And what exactly do you think you’re doin?”

Spiderpunk’s agonizing voice cuts through the silence of the night and you freeze in your tracks. You knew he’d find you tonight—always chasing after you like a moth to a flame, or a fly to a spiders web.

He drops down from the wall, thrusting his hands into his pockets and clicking his tongue, his loud boots slapping against the ground behind you,

“What’ya got in that bag of yours? Up to something you shouldn’t be?” He questions, coming right up behind you and whispering next to your ear. You turn around, your hands up as you look at him through your mask,

“Bold of you to assume i’ve done anything, I could just be out for a midnight stroll.” You shrug slyly, toying with him. You know just as well as he does that he could have tried to take you down by now, he’s clearly just wanted a little foreplay as usual.

“Oh, is it now? You’ve got this guilty air about you.” He asks, completely prepared for any attack that you might have up your sleeve, “You really want me to believe a dirty little liar like you, hm?” As he provokes you, his gloved hands reach up to your face only to get smacked away, but he only smiles harder—he expected it. A scoff can be heard from under your mask,

“Miss me, Spiderpunk? You seem awfully excited.” You sneer, voice muffled a deeper more menacing tone. His animated mask portrays his every expression, a squinty smirk plastered on his face,

“How’d you know?” He smirks, coming closer. You flex your fingers, claws baring menacingly before you rip a smoke bomb off your belt and slam it down, making Spiderpunk stumble back before you lunge at him through the cloud. His senses go wild, and he web shoots to the wall, swinging around and pulling his guitar out while you’re down. Your momentum landing you on your knees after he dodged, and you can’t react fast enough for his attack. He’s got his guitar above his head before he slams it down on your back,

“Ah!—Fuck me!” You grumble, rolling over and jumping up, shaking your head with your hands in front of you defensively.

“Only if you ask nicely, gorgeous,” He’s got his guitar out on display as if it’s a sword, making you scoff,

“In your dreams.” Your crack your neck and lunge at him, grunting and swinging wherever you can reach from your stance. You’d never admit it, but his height creeped you out and excited you all at once. Never in a million years would you get with a person like Spiderpunk—a loud, obnoxious, wannabe ‘hero’—but the fact that he towered over you like he did made you nervous in the best way possible. You tried to ignore the feelings deep in your stomach and focus on the way that made you feel about your fighting, afraid that he could overpower you if you let your guard down even slightly—which you did. He had used his fucking guitar pick—the small object somehow slicing your arm. You gasped and he hurriedly backed up, nearly tripping over his feet. At first he was dodging your punches well until you threw a right hook in, your knuckles meeting his jaw with as much force as you could muster,

He had no time to react as he stumbled down. You kicked him across the face and pinned his hands down under your shoes. You knew you had to act fast and get the hell away from him,

“Couldn’t have wined and dined me first?” He quips, his wrists pinned beside his head and his legs spread under you. It’s quite a sight—the city’s hero sprawled out under you like this at your mercy. You shake the thoughts out of your head,

“Catch you later, Spiderpunk.” You rasp, reaching to your belt and popping the cap off a homemade bomb. His eyes triple in size as you throw it, your boot shoving his face down before you flee. He scrambles and slings away before the bomb explodes and the walls surrounding it crumble.

He watches from across the street as the damage ensues, cursing to himself when sees the faint glow of your suit as you disappear into the night. You were such a pain in his ass—but couldn’t keep away.

—

—?” You yell out the name of an order, setting a drink and pastry down. You smile at the customer who walks up and thanks you, giving them a quick smile before returning to the register, swapping out with your coworker,

“Thanks again, Y/N.” They sigh. This isn’t typical behavior from your coworker, they’re typically very hard working but they told you a chunk of their apartment complex was blown up last night. Of course, you had to sympathize with them and help make their shift a little easier—it’s the least you could do after being the unknown cause of their distress.

“Yeah don’t worry about it.” You wipe off your uniform and put on a smile for the customers of the small café you work at. It had been an exhausting shift—only 30 minutes in and it already felt like hell. You looked up ready to give your best customer service voice when your words caught in your throat…

The man in front of you was absolutely breath taking. He had these high cheekbones and pretty eyes, full lips with a ring to compliment them, perfectly styled hair and jewelry all over—god his fashion too. He had this punk rock thing going on, and he was absolutely killing it. Even his body language was attractive, the way his hands were on either side of the table, leaning over slightly to reach your level,

“Mornin’.” He starts, his deep voice only spurring on your attraction towards him, “Could I just get a…” He looks up, biting the inside of his cheek before sighing, “Having a hard time making a choice—wide selection you’ve got. What do you recommend?” He asks with a curious expression, bending down close to hear you over the machinery, clanging dishes, and customer chatter.

You’re stunned, not expecting you’d have to think. After a little stuttering, you can finally think,

“W-Well we have this Persian tea. It’s a black tea base with cardamom and rose petals?” You suggest, your face heating up when he smiles because of course he has the lost beautiful smile you’ve ever seen, “It’s my favorite.” You add, voice coming out oddly quiet and now you’re incredibly embarrassed for reasons you can’t name,

“Sounds perfect, gorgeous.” He eccentrically squints his eyes and shakes his head as he speaks, half lidded eyes locking with yours again.

“And the name for your order?” You ask, tapping in the details on the screen before making eye contact with him,

“Hobie.” And of course, there’s something about the way he says his name that has you melting, but you desperately try to ignore it and pull yourself together. He whips out his wallet and hands you a large bill, your fingers slipping against his as you take it into your hand. You ring him up and gather his change, which he adamantly refuses to take,

“Keep it.” The stunning man winks, walking away and waiting in the line of others who have ordered. For a moment, you stand there completely appalled. When you turn to look at your coworker she’s already staring at you,

“…Oh my god?” She mouths, her hand over her mouth, “You better go make his drink and write your number on his cup, girl—move over i’ve got the register.” She laughs in disbelief, just as flustered as you,

“Thank you, thank you.” You hurriedly giggle, feeling guilty almost at her eagerness before moving out of her way and fumbling around, steeping his tea immediately. You were extra meticulous when crafting his order, wanting it to be just perfect. You caught glimpses of the rockstar-like man over the counter a few times, and almost every time he was already looking at you. You had to bite your lip to fight back the smile that tugged at your lips. When you poured his tea in a cup and clicked the cap on, you pulled out your sharpie and wrote his name messily, scribbling your number under it. With a cheeky smile you set the cup down,

“Hobie?” You call out like you have no idea who he is despite holding eye contact with him. He walks over, pulling a hand out of his pockets and wrapping his long fingers around the cup,

“Thank you, doll.” He rasped, scanning you over one last time when suddenly he squints,

“Y’alright? Doesn’t look like just a little scratch.” He asks you with his eyebrows furrowed, pointing low and squinting in concern. You’re just as confused as he is for a moment, looking down with your heart stopping as you realize it’s the cut from when Spiderpunk sliced you with his guitar pick, the memories of last night flooding into your brain and causing a panic in your nerves, your adrenaline pumping in a flash,

“Oh this? I got this from a clumsy accident the other day, it’s really no biggie.” You brush it off, covering the cut with your hand and cursing internally. You want to hide and never show your face again, the worst possible outcomes clouding your thoughts. He doesn’t seem concerned about your response, taking it for the truth,

“You better be more careful then, yeah?” He playfully chastises, turning to leave, “See y’round, pretty.” And with that, he walks out of the café, humming in delight at the flavors in your favorite drink. He’s almost done with his drink when he finally notices your number on the cup, laughing to himself and freezing in his tracks.

—

You got a call that night after your shift—you knew you would. When you picked up the phone and his deep voice was on the other end you just about melted into your bed.

“Hey, Hobie.”

“Hello, lovely—never got your name.” He mutters on the other end, background shuffling and movements loud enough to reach your ears. He sounds like he’s flipping switches and plugging stuff in,

“It’s, Y/N.” You chirp. Hobie feels a smile take over his face as he learns your name, repeating it a couple times,

“Such a pretty name you’ve got.” He coo’s his voice low and sultry. You smile widely, stupidly giddy over this

stranger,

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” He says smugly. On the other side of the phone you can faintly hear what sounds like a guitar, an electric guitar, “How about we go out sometime, yeah? When can I see you?” He asks, his voice charismatic.

You think, caught between wanting to see him tomorrow and wanting to be careful about who sees you that day. Tomorrow you had shady plans, and you didn’t want to get him roped into it, “Hm…it sounds weird but can I see you at nine?” You ask with a questioning tilt in your voice, “I understand it’s late but—“

“No worries, hun, works f’me.” He insists, causing you to sigh in relief.

“Okay great! thank you, Hobie.” You smile, fidgeting with your clothes anxiously. He hums and you feel your heart race,

“See you then, Y/N.”

—

Tonight would be the craziest heist of your life if you could pull it off. Keyword, if.

You didn’t know, but Spiderpunk had been following you the entire night. He had to keep a close watch on you after that stunt you pulled last time. You had somehow managed to outsmart him and he couldn’t let it happen again. You were currently in an alleyway, your pace fast and your head down—you honestly couldn’t look more suspicious as you walked towards the bank.

“Don’t think so.” He mutters to himself, slinging down and following you stealthily. He crept along the walls, keeping a watchful eye on you as you literally sawed open the wall, following close behind.

You on the other hand had a lot of tasks you were juggling all at once—you were texting Hobie telling him you’d see him in 15 minutes, sawing the building open, and watching your back simultaneously.

Spiderpunk, who couldn’t yet see you well enough to notice you were texting with your other hand, jumped when his phone vibrated with a notification. He pulled it out and quickly checked it, his heart racing at your name lighting up his screen. He just had to take you down to make it to the date on time—easy peasy.

He crept into the bank, catching a glimpse of you breaking into all their stashes and safes, literally stuffing cash into your bag. You look rushed and panicked, not as tactful as your usual self. He find it entertaining and comical decided to mess with you a little,

“In a hurry?” That low and taunting voice makes your skin crawl, whipping your head around, fingering tightening on your bag. Of course he was here, how could you have missed him? Or more importantly, how could he have not missed you? You knew it was a shot in the dark to just assume he wouldn’t find you this night as he always does—you bet he has some kind of affinity for you. A gravely sigh tumbles from your lips, shaking your head and slinging your bag over your shoulder,

“Look—I can’t fool around with you tonight, let’s skip the small talk.” You grunt, clicking your claws into readied fists, staring him down with precision. Spiderpunk liked fighting you when you were playful, but there was something about fighting you when you were annoyed that really excited him,

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” He teases with a low whistle, webbing towards you feet first. You dodge, grunting and lunging at him, both of you rolling until he’s got you under him, attempting to restrain you. You bring your knees up and kick him off of you, jumping up and circling him. He stares you down for a while, that messy painted mask squinty-eyed,

“Come on.” He sneers, beckoning you with his two, very long, middle fingers suggestively. You laugh at this, lunging at him in a series of calculated movements. He fights you off, throwing out quips and sly remarks to fire you up. You swing at him, your claws out, and he struggles against you when you attempt to stab him with them, pushing your wrists against the wall and grunting through the struggle. You’re shaking under him, hissing and squirming in an attempt to free yourself when he webs you to the wall.

“Fuck! God—“ You groan, frustrated and beyond pissed at what this means for you. Hobie’s face flashes in your brain and you cringe at the idea of standing him up like this,

“Please! Please just let me go this time…” You grunt, the webs holding you down like a barricade as he pulls your bag off you, spilling the contents out onto the floor—your phone, your outfit for the date, and all the money scattered across the cool tile,

“What’s with the dress? Got a date tonight?” He hums, picking up the fancy garment before dropping it back in place when you just scoff. Hobie reaches down to gather up the money when he notices the time on your phone, straightening up and pulling his own phone out,

“Shit—it’s that time already?” You watch as he hurriedly texts someone, his thumbs dancing across the screen. You slump against the wall as much as you can being restrained, sighing in pure frustration when your phone buzzes.

You both freeze—you because you’re deathly embarrassed and Hobie because his heart drops into his stomach. Directly after he sent a text to Y/N, your phone lit up. He looks at you, trying to decode your body language as he bends down and picks up your phone, confirming his suspicions.

Sure enough, there’s a text from him, or ‘Hobie,’ right in the middle of your lock screen. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, laughing to himself with his shoulders shaking in tandem.

You on the other hand are completely and utterly unaware of what just happened, still stuck to the wall and helplessly watching the scene in front of you. He stuff his and your phone into his pocket, muttering something to himself that you can’t quite make out before he walks towards you, the soles of his boots echoing in the dark empty bank,

“What the—why did you take my phone? What are you-“ Your rambles are cut short as his gloved hands come up to your mask, removing it despite your protests. After tossing it to the ground, he simply takes it all in. It’s you, his date—the prowler. You’re obviously still completely oblivious to what’s transpired and therefore furious,

“Answer me asshole! What good is seeing my face gonna do for you?“ And now, it’s your turn to be completely speechless as Spiderpunk pulls his mask off. Hobie’s dark hair springs out, his pretty face glowing in the low light and a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he watches you swallow the same truth as he did,

“Cant say I was expecting this.” He whispers coyly, eating up the way you instantly grow quiet and flustered, this extra layer added onto your relationship clearly only exciting you more. You gulp nervously, your heart racing at this sudden turn of events,

“Me neither…” You whisper, simply unable to be mad or upset when now you’ve got your cake and you’re about to eat it too.

Hobie doesn’t do much thinking when he unties you and kicks the money aside, or when he tells you to put on that pretty dress and let him take you out properly. You’re completely stunned, staring down at your prowler claws before stuffing them in your bag and walking out the hole you cut into the bank, Hobie waiting against the wall for you,

“So…about all of this?” You awkwardly chuckle, motioning to the bank, the money, and the mess. Hobie being the anarchist he is simply shrugs, extending his palm for yours and clasping it when you place it against his, slinging away into the night to finally go on that date,

“Not my problem.”

—

@ohxx @luxxtuxx @fatenpara @hobesbf @defnot-bri

[razorblade180]

Adrenaline Chase

Aether:So I just…jump and reach? *looks at cliff*

Kinich:It’s more of a full body movement. Already have spot pictured in your mind.

Ajaw:Or you can relax you body and let gravity do the rest of the work-

Banished

Kinich:Don’t do that.

Aether:Figured. Okay, I can do this. I… can do this. It’s like Sumeru but no nodes….

Kinich:….Hey?

Aether:Yes?

Kinich:I will catch you if you fall.

Aether:….I bet a lot of people fall for you with yours eyes and that promise.

Kinich:If you can joke, you can jump.

Aether:Here goes absolutely everything.

Aether takes a running start and jumps off the cliff. Fighting the urge to glide, he shot out a stream of dendro that tethered him to the side of a rock pillar and began swinging downward at incredibly high speed. In the upswing, Aether let go and shot another tether for momentum; unfortunately this led him swinging straight towards a cliff slide.

Aether:I DID NOT THINK THIS THROUGH!

A dendro tether connected to his back and yanked him straight up, clearing the cliff and giving him the chance to roll into a sprint. Kinich landed right next to Aether, quickly taking his left hand and jumping in tandem off the other side. He easily carried both them through the air as his line was advanced enough to attach to seemingly nothing for more options.

Kinich:Planning your landing is the most important part.

Aether:Let me try again!

Kinich:I will. This time though, you’re catching me.

He flung him forward, then let gravity take control. Aether spun around mid air and watched this man casually start falling. He shot a line out within half a second, connecting to Kinich’s right hand and pulling him forward. In return, Kinich flew past Aether and pulled him up higher. Again and again they kept grappling onto one another as a massive rock formation approached. Not one to cut things short, Kinich grabbed Aether by the forearm and launched him to the right of it.

Both of them casted a line onto the landmass, swinging around from both sides and coming back into each other’s views at the same time. Kinich was perfectly fine while Aether was a little shocked about the last several actions.

Kinich:Yeah, like that.

Aether:Are you crazy! What if I would’ve dropped you!?

Kinich:You’re not the type of person to let a person fall so easily. Just like Kachina, you have a knack for trying harder when it’s not about your well being.

Aether:….*smiling* You’re nuts.

Kinich:And you’re swinging. Congratulations, you’re one of us.

He reached out his hand without a care in the world. Aether could only shake his head in disbelief as he casted another line to him, pulling Kinich in close enough to grab his hand properly as they ran up a rock face and landed at the top.

Kinich:See? It’s actually pretty easy once you know what you’re doing. Safer than riding on lava anyways.

Aether:*looks down 100 feet*…..

Kinich:Relatively speaking.

[illegal-spiegel]

ꜱᴏʀᴇ ʟᴏꜱᴇʀ

ꜱᴘɪᴋᴇ ꜱᴘɪᴇɢᴇʟ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜱᴘɪᴛ ᴘʟᴀʏ, ᴅʀʏ ʜᴜᴍᴘɪɴɢ, ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ᴅᴀ ɴᴀꜱᴛʏ ᴏɴ ᴀ ɢʀᴏꜱꜱ ᴍᴀᴛ ʟᴍᴀᴏ, ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ ꜱᴇx?, ᴇxʜɪʙɪᴛɪᴏɴɪꜱᴍ??, ᴅᴇɢʀᴀᴅᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

Spike leans against the doorway as he watches you, a secret, fond smile on his lips. You’re in nothing but a navy blue bra and a matching pair of shorts, but his eyes are trained on the way your hands are moving. You’re up on your tippy-toes moving around the mat, your hands protected by the black kumpur as you lay consecutive, hard hits to the punching bag. He lets out an inaudible hum when you start doing jab crosses followed by some lead teeps. He has to admit, he’s impressed by how far you’ve come with your fighting abilities since he first met you. 

After watching you for a couple of minutes, you drop your hands and grab the punching bag to stop it from swinging around. Your chest rises and falls with your labored breathing, and who can really blame Spike for staring, especially since you’re just letting sweat bead down your neck and letting it go down the valley of your breasts. 

“Need something, Spiegel?” you suddenly call out, shocking him from his staring contest with your breasts. He looks up to your eyes to find you smirking at him, making him smirk right back with a hum. 

“Yeah. Let’s go. You and me, one on one. Mano y mano,” he says as he steps further into the room, walking towards the dueling mat. You raise a brow at this, starting to remove your kumpur as you follow him in the direction of the mat. 

“What, seriously? You never want to fight me,” you reply, voice laced with suspicion. He turns to look at you over his shoulder, his brow cocking up while a smirk starts to crawl across his face. 

“Well, now I do. I was scared of hurting you before, but now I know that you can take me,” he replies, stopping in the middle of the mat and starting to undo the buttons of his coat. You stop at the edge of the mat, placing your hands onto your hips after you place the kumpur onto the chair by the mat, which is where you normally sit while he spars with someone else. 

“You should’ve known for months that I’m capable of that. You’ve seen me take down people twice my size,” you reply, your tone becoming exasperated and your arms crossing over your chest now as you stare him down. 

“‘Nough chit-chat. More fighting,” he says as he spins to face you, tossing his coat onto the chair with annoyingly perfect precision. 

“Fine. Have it your way,” you grumble, walking towards him. His smirk only gets bigger as you grow closer. He’s not only happy that you agreed but he’s also glad that he was able to irk you. Maybe that’ll throw you off your game. 

You two start circling each other, both of you studying the other and debating if you should attack first or not. You know Spike is good at defense, so you decide to go on the defensive and let him attack first. And, just like he taught you, you avoid his punch with fluid movements and watch his fist whiz past your face. Your eyes flit to his with a smirk before you’re landing an uppercut to his chin.

He staggers back a step before catching himself, using that momentum to lift his other foot and swing it toward you. You duck under his leg easily but miss the punch he lands on your cheek right after. You grunt and reel back from it, quickly stepping further away when he comes back for another punch with the opposite hand. He tries to land six more punches before you finally go back onto the offensive. You grab ahold of his arm after his last attempt at punching you, tugging him towards your side and using your other arm to jab him in the gut with your elbow. This hit causes him to grunt and fall backward, swaying as he tries to find his footing. 

While he’s caught off guard, you swiftly rush towards him and swipe his feet out from underneath him. He gasps as he flies towards the ground, landing with a loud thud and an even louder grunt. You’re quick to crawl on top of him and pin him down, but he’s not going down that easily. He flips you as soon as you lift one leg to get higher above him, making you gasp when he flips you onto your back. Just like him though, you’re not going down without a fight. 

He smirks down at you as he pins your arms, sweat beading on his forehead. “One...two...” he starts to mockingly count, making you squint your eyes up at him. Before he can get to three though, you lift your hips up and throw him up above your body. He grunts as his face makes impact with the floor, letting go of your wrists to quickly push himself back up onto his hands to regain some balance.

With your arms now free, you wrap your arms around his torso, tucking yourself tight against his chest as you pull yourself up his body a bit, hearing the hammering of his heart for a second. Wrapping your left arm around his right, you tuck the arm into his side, causing him to lose his balance completely. With no arm holding him up, he topples over to his right, letting you use that momentum to roll back on top of him. 

With you in control again, your legs pin his thighs down while your hands hastily pin his down just like how he had done to you. He pants as he stares up at you, the sweat on his forehead sliding back towards his hairline. You smirk when he doesn’t try to throw you off, impressed with that last move you did. He’s never seen something like that before, even after all these years of fighting. 

“I win,” you boast after counting to three, letting go of his wrists and sitting back. You swipe at your forehead when you feel the sweat there threatening to fall down your face, your chest heaving with each breath you take as you try to regain oxygen back into your desperate lungs. Just as you’re about to get off of Spike though, you feel something. It has your body completely freezing as you assess what it is. 

“Is that your gun I’m feeling or are you unusually excited about losing?” you promptly ask, unsure of which one you want it to be. You can feel a newfound heat spreading through your body though, that being a telltale for your brain to know what it wants the answer to be. You blame the fact that you’re up in space and only stop on planets for bounties. No one on this goddamn starship has gotten laid in months because they’ve been so busy. 

“What can I say? I love the kind of woman that can kick my ass.” 

Your jaw drops open a bit at his words, your cheeks getting hotter when you see his eyes are heavy-lidded and clouded with lust. “What?” you breathe, suddenly finding it hard to speak. Instead of verbally replying to you though, he grabs the back of your neck and tugs you down for a kiss. Despite the initial shock of being kissed by the self-proclaimed ‘woman hater,' you quickly melt into the kiss. The kiss is immediately one full of passion, desperation, and need. As you explore the other’s mouth, your teeth clack against each other rather painfully every so often, but neither of you pulls away from the messy kiss, even as drool starts to slide down Spike’s cheek.

It may be messy, but it’s probably the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced. 

Well, that is until he flips you over again just like he had done earlier, and you almost whine when he doesn’t instantly go back to kissing you. He smirks at the wretched look etched across your face, using the back of his hand to wipe the spit off his face as he studies you, almost as if he were trying to figure out just what he should do with you. “Open up,” he suddenly directs, grabbing your cheeks with one hand to hold your face in place for him. Without hesitation you comply, parting your lips eagerly for him, eyes locked on his as you gaze up out from under him. A devilish grin stretches across his face at your willingness to follow his order without question, and he leans down, his face moving to hover over yours. And before you can even realize what he’s doing, he’s spitting into your mouth. 

You make a muffled noise in confusion, trying to process the fact that he had just spat into your mouth, treating you as if you were nothing more than the scum beneath his feet. You know that you should be more than beyond pissed, to push him off of you and storm up right from out of there. And yet despite that, you can’t help the way his downright filthy and untamed behavior manages to turn you on. 

“There. Now we’re even,” he says softly between pants, a devilish smirk on his face. He’s then surging forward, reconnecting your lips with his for another desperate kiss, during which you can’t help but moan between the gasps of air you take. Your noises only grow more frequent and louder in volume as he starts grinding against you teasingly. Though neither of you has removed any clothes, you can still feel just how much he has to offer, and the thought alone excites you. His hands roam your bare thighs, going from there up to your bare midriff. 

“God, you’re so fucking sexy. I’ve wanted to do this ever since your dumbass walked onto the Bebop,” Spike admits through a groan after pulling away from the kiss, letting his head drop forward a bit as he grinds against you harder. 

“Then stop wasting time,” you hiss, spreading your legs further for him. He chuckles lowly and tilts his head to look back up at you, wearing his usual smirk on his lips. 

“Beg for it,” he commands, his voice sounding so deep that it sounds downright sinister, especially with that demand. 

“No,” you grit out, trying to keep your hips from gravitating up towards his warm body to his hard cock that he’s refusing to give you. You weren’t going to stoop that low for him and you decided that you would keep your pride till the very end. He raises a brow at your denial, pulling away to lean back on his knees, looking down at you as his fingers move to knock against your chin to tilt your head up towards him. 

“No? Hm, okay,” he replies all too calmly, making your skin tingle with the possibilities of what he’s planning. You gasp when he unexpectedly forces two fingers past your lips and into your mouth, your moan being stopped by his fingers. His fingers taste salty, like sweat, and despite the fact it’s a little gross, you’re loving it all the same. Your eyes flutter up at him, his watching you with supposed disinterest. 

You know better though. 

You’re able to read him like a book now. His face appears blank and impartial, but it’s the little things that give him away. The way his eyes stare transfixed at how your lips suck him in, the way his chest rises and falls faster and faster each time you rove your tongue against his fingers, the way his pants are getting tighter and his hips jump up slightly anytime you give his digits a harsh suck. He can try all he wants to hide how he’s really feeling, but you know him more than he likes to admit. 

He lets out a groan when you reach up and bring another one of his fingers into your mouth, his head falling back as he thrusts his hips down against yours. You mewl at the friction that’s returned, sucking hard on his fingers and rubbing your tongue against his fingers faster. 

You whimper around his digits when his free hand suddenly comes down and rubs you through your shorts. Your legs part further for him yet again, craving for more of his touch on your throbbing cunt. He chuckles when he sees this, using that hand to slide your shorts down. 

He manically grins when he finds that you’re not wearing panties, his eyes trained on your wet pussy. “No panties, hm?” he teases, starting to stroke his fingers up from your dripping hole to your swollen clit. “You were over here training with no panties on like a true slut, weren’t ya?” he coos, slipping a single finger in. It feels good, but it's nowhere near enough to get you off and he knows that. 

“You sure you don’t wanna beg, baby? This pretty pussy here looks quite desperate for my cock,” he purrs, rubbing his thumb across your clit with his other hand. You shake your head, your breathing starting to become as labored as when you were fighting. “Still no? Alright then.”

He slips his finger out of you as well as removes his thumb from your clit. You whine before you can stop yourself. It doesn’t go unheard. “Last chance, love. Beg for it,” he growls, squinting his eyes down at you. 

“No,” you growl right back, glaring up at him in defiance.

“Fine,” he grunts out. “You can take care of it yourself since you want to act like such a damn brat.” And with that he pulls away from your touch completely, bringing himself back to his feet as he dusts himself off and turns to walk away from your disheveled form on the ground and walking towards the exit.

Another thing that comes with knowing how to read someone like a book is knowing when they’re bluffing right through their teeth to get what they want out of you. So, naturally, you call him out on his bluff. 

Pushing yourself up by your elbows, you smirk back up at him mischievously. “What is it, Spiegel? Trying to run away from a fight that you started with your tail between your legs? Seems a bit cowardly, doncha think?” you taunt. 

And just like that, he’s stopping in his tracks. 

“You really don’t know when to keep that mouth of yours shut, do you?” He replies cooly, swiftly walking back over to you and using his heel to push at your shoulder to force you back to the ground. The force of his actions knocks the wind out of you for a moment, but you’re quick to recover. 

“Ah, but you love this mouth of mine, don’t you? So much so that you’ve been wanting to take me ever since—what was it?—that I walked onto the Bebop? Seems like you like me a bit more than you try to let on,” you reply with a shit-eating grin. He huffs and shoves his foot off of you before standing in a lazy stance in front of you, his shoulders slouched as he pockets his hands. 

“I’m not gonna help you get you off anymore if that’s what you’re going for,” he says lowly, trying to act as if he’s unbothered by it all. You clench your jaw at his words despite knowing that he wants nothing more than to jump your bones right now. He’s just too stubborn to admit it and to give in to his desires. Well, two can play at that game. You’re just as stubborn as he is, if not more so. 

“Fine. Feel free to see yourself out then,” you sass, spreading your legs to show your naked core. His eyes immediately flicker down to your drooling cunt, his tongue coming out to wet his lips. Your own lips quirk up into a smirk, your hand lowering down to your heat with a hum. Once your hand starts to flick your swollen clit, your clenching hole oozes more of your arousal. “Ah, fuck,” you moan dramatically, wanting to egg Spike on further. You watch his hands clench by his side, his jaw clamping shut as he tries to convince himself to walk away to win this fight. 

“Will you cut it out? Jet or Faye could walk in at any minute!” he hisses, going as far as to kick his foot out to lightly nudge you. 

“Yeah? How come it was okay for you to do this to me, but now it’s a problem? Hm?” you start, dipping two of your fingers into your hole with a pornographic moan. “Scared they might see what you think is yours? Hm? You think Jet or Faye wants to touch me this way? Wh-” 

Before you can even blink, he’s hovering over you again with one hand tugging your fingers out of your squelching hole while the other is pulling your hair harshly. You let out a groan of pain, your eyes rolling back into your head for a moment.

“Listen here, slut. This pussy is mine and if you even think for a goddamn second that I would let them-” He stops talking when you start giggling, causing his face to only scrunch up further in anger. He realizes then that you were just egging him on, trying to get him to snap and spill the truth. “You’re going to wish you had just begged,” he says in between staggered breaths, his body becoming an inferno with newfound heat and lust. 

“Challenge accepted,” you breathe out before his lips crash against yours. His teeth gnaw at your lip and he forces his tongue into your mouth, his fingers hooking inside of your cunt to hit that spongey spot every single time. You moan into the kiss, your hips thrusting up a bit to meet his fingers’ thrust. 

And only a few minutes later, you’re cumming. Jesus, he really knows what he’s doing with those fingers. You pull away from the kiss, whining when he continues to finger fuck you. “Spike,” you stutter out, grabbing his wrist to try and get him to stop or at least slow down. 

“What?” he growls, his eyes watching as he continues to finger-bang you. 

“I’m sensitive, stop,” you whine. You and he know good and well that if you really wanted him to stop, you could force him to stop. You like that you have no control over him though, no control over your own body. 

“Cry about it,” he bites back, glaring down a you. You groan as he continues to use his fingers on you, trying to draw another orgasm out of you. Your eyes roll back into your head, your legs clamping down around his arm to yet again try to stop him. 

You see your mistake now. Maybe you really should have just asked nicely for his cock. Because now, he’s just going to keep making you cum in any and every way he knows how until he’s satisfied. 

When you start getting close to your second orgasm, you look up at him again to find him evilly grinning down at you. “Yeah, take it like the slut you are,” he coos, moving his fingers deeper inside of you. You cry out as your orgasm slams into you, your body quaking beneath him. 

You gasp in relief when he rips his fingers out of you, watching as he stares at his fingers in mock disgust as he makes a scissoring motion in the air. “You’re fucking soaked…” he comments, seemingly more so to himself than to you as he watches your cum stick to his fingers as he pulls them apart before pushing them back together to repeat the action. 

His eyes suddenly flicker to you, a sadistic smile on his face. “Ready for the real thing, slut?” he taunts as he unzips his pants and pulls his dick out. Your eyes shift down and bulge at the sight of it. His cock is veiny and sits heavy in his hand, the tip reaching way past where he holds it at the base. His eyes are lidded as he swipes the head through your cum that’s still dribbling out of your cunt. 

“Be a good girl and take it,” he whispers just before pushing it into the base. 

⊱ ────── {⋅. ☆ .⋅} ────── ⊰

MASTERLIST

More with Spike Spiegel

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Tag List: @nojamsss03, @katsuhera, @sunflowersenshi ✦ if you would like to be added or removed, comment or send an ask. Also, remember to tell me if you ever change your username so I can continue to tag you :)

⊱ ────── {⋅. ☆ .⋅} ────── ⊰

[babybatss-blog]

OH MY GOODNESS I LOVED UR SAM FICS, PLEASE WRITE ONE ABOUT LIKE HIM X READER IN THE FALL SHARING FLANNELS AND SWEATSHIRTS

BEGIN AGAIN

stardew!sam x reader, 1400 words

a/n: ahhhh omg you’re so sweet! Although it isn’t that important to the story, I based this fic on “begin again” by Taylor Swift. Hope you enjoy!

cw: predeveloped relationship between Sam and reader, confession of love. Mention of adult sexy time 😉 but nothing explicit. Slight angst into sickly sweet fluff. Reader is insecure, with mentions of past relationship and friendship struggles.

You tried to deny it, you really did. But walking hand in hand through town on a cold fall day the realisation hits you that you are inexplicably, irreversably in love with Sam. You’ve been together for a few months now, but honestly it was only really a casual relationship built on messy hookups and an innate need for physical affection. And even if Sam thought it was anything different you never intended to get very far with it after the last few years of your life. You escaped to Stardew valley to forget men, with their stupid player attitudes and outlook on relationships. Truthfully, you were perfectly happy with just becoming some single weirdo for the rest of your life. But this golden retreiver of a man just makes you so happy, blushing like a school girl and heart racing faster than ever before.

The mere thought of how down bad you are for him causes a shiver down your spine, and not just some small one but one that makes you physically shake. “Cold?” He asks, looking down to you with his bushy eyebrows furrowed. Without another word he takes his flannel off and wraps it around your shoulders, patting them with his big hands and grinning like a buffoon before holding your hand once more.

Honestly you didn’t even need it, but the way he thinks he’s some sort of knight in shining armor always stops you from protesting. You arrive at the town’s playground, a shabby swingset attached to a slide that’s cracked and rusted at the joints. It sure isn’t some masterpiece, but it does the job of entertaining the town’s children on the weekends. And Sam apparently, who lets go of your hand and leaps onto the swing. The scoots back in order to get enough momentum as possible and flies into the air, his blonde mop of hair flying off with him.

“Woo!! Join me?” You just chuckle, but join him nontheless, swinging much softer than he is but with the same pleased expression. The two of you swing in silence for a bit, with him enjoying the moment and you dreading it. How could you have let yourself go back to your old ways? It may seem great now, but in your head you already can see him confessing to cheating or breaking up with you because he’s bored. “So, you know the saying when pigs fly?” he asks. “Do you think we could actually make them fly? Like genetically modify wings on them and teach them like baby birds?” To the normal individual this seems like an idiotic question, but you’re used to his antics so you don’t even blink and respond casually with a “I hope not. Then I’d have to deal with trying to fish mine out of the sky every night when they need to go to the barn.” To this Sam laughs, throwing his head back as if you just said the funniest thing ever.

You don’t really think your very funny, and you never did. In school you were always the quiet kid, not because you are quiet but because you didn’t have many friends. Therefore, you just built yourself up to other things. You may not be funny, but your reasonably pretty. And smart, you did okay in school.

But Sam just makes you feel like the funniest person to ever exist, laughing at your words even when you don’t attempt to be funny. It makes you feel… nice.

Stuck in your thoughts though you unfortunately fail to conceal yourself once more, Sam realising the way you just completely ignore his following statements with a glossy look behind your eyes. “Babe, you alright?” He enquires, ceasing his swinging immediately to return to your level. You look up at him and smile softly, sighing. He had to realise sooner or later, and you couldn’t hide it from him anyways.

“Sam?” You ask, turning in the swing so the chains intertwine and you face him. He mirrors your movements, scooting so your knees are now touching. The warmth makes you uncomfortable in this moment, but you would never pull away from him. “If I say something weird… would you judge me?” Once again his eyebrows crease at your words, fearlessly shaking his head. “Of course not! Why?” That pit in your stomach grows until you feel sick, the words failing you as you look down at his jeans, which is all you can manage at this moment. “Your not breaking up with me are you?” The way his voice cracks almost brings a tear to your eye, internally cursing yourself for paining him so much. How could you do this to such a sweet, innocent man?

“No no no I just…”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No Sam but I need to-“

“If you have an issue just say it I can handle it”

“I know you can its just hard cause-“

“Is this because I ate your pasta  the other day? Cause I thought you wouldn’t mind and I’m happy to-“

“Sam I’m in love with you.” The words rush out of your mouth like daggers, despite the sweetness they’re usually associated with. Every fibre of your being is fighting with one another, some parts happy the secret is out and others despising the pit you’ve fallen into. Yet you continue. “I think I’ve felt this way for a little bit, but I tried to hide it. I hate it, but I can’t anymore. You just make me so happy Sam, and I don’t know whats wrong with me. You drive me mad. I wake up thinking about you, and I fall asleep with the same thoughts. I imagine you moving in with me, marrying me and raising my kids. I feel insane Sam, but I can’t help it anymore. You don’t have to feel the same way, and don’t feel obligated to say anything. But I love you. I really do.”

A silence lingers in the cold air, flowing around like the brown and yellow leaves that fall onto the floor limply. You now get the courage to study his face, and every freckle and imprefection seems like it always has. If this is how the two of you are going to end, you don’t mind. You’ll still have every detail of his body engrained in your mind, along with how his face looks in this very moment. It looks as if he’s brain is about to explode, simultaneously going through every option and pathway that lead to this moment.

His deep blue eyes look up and connect with yours, piercing into your soul as if he’s reading you like a book. Finally he breaks the silence, a sympathetic smile adorning his cheeks. “I love you too.”

It takes you a moment to process his words, and just as it fully sinks in he envelops you in a hug. You begin to beam, heart beating like never before. Did he really just say that? The two of you simultaneously laugh, your hands palming his back and melting into his warmth. “Really?” “Duh! How could you think I didn’t? I literally spent my whole pay check the other day buying you flowers! And you know I hate flowers! And what about the time I wrote a six page card for your birthday, detailing everything about your face? I hate writing!” Despite the tears that threatened to leak out of your eyes previously you now cannot stop laughing, in disbelief of his words.

Sam tucks his head down into the crook of your neck, kissing it over and over again through smooshed words of “I love you” that vibrate on your skin, any prior discomfort flooding away under his touch. You smell like him, feel like him and breath like him, hands digging into his jumper out of pure extacy. Sam lifts you up by the thighs to put you on his lap, arms safely keeping you still ontop of him, and still kissing your neck and collarbone.

“I love you Sam.” “I love you too.” Despite the cold, grey of the sky and the muddy puddles below you everything feels perfect, in a bountiful fall you could never forget.

[spoilmesweetieforficssake]

Pregnant Reader - Part 3

So after the final part of Not So Single Mom I realised I still had a few more parts planned for the pregnant reader fic so while we have a little writing momentum - here we are with part 3. Hope you guys enjoy!

Part One

Part Two

You press a hand to your stomach, smiling as you feel the movement beneath.  Your little girl was a dancer, it felt like. 

“Oooh, is she on the move again?” asks Janine, dropping down to sit next to you.

“And apparently determined to get somewhere,” you chuckle as you feel the baby shift.  “You want to feel?”

She gasps.  “Really?”

You shrug.  “If you want to?”

“Yes!” she grins.  “Definitely yes.”  She holds out a hand, grinning as you take hold of it and settle it against your stomach.  Janine squeals when she feels the baby move beneath her hand. 

“You trying out to be the new fire alarm or somethin’?” asks Melissa as she enters the breakroom, a frown already on her face at the high pitched noise as she heads for the coffee machine.

“The baby’s moving,” grins Janine.

The red head’s eyes zero in on the spot where Janine’s hand rests against your stomach.  “And that gives you an excuse to get handsy, does it?”

The younger woman shrinks back at Melissa’s words, her hand quickly retracted back to her own lap.  “I should get going, I have things to get set up anyway.”

You watch the younger woman go.  “’Lissa, I offered to let her feel.  It’s not like she just decided to get hands on herself.”

“Good, or she’d find finger painting difficult soon.”

Rolling your eyes at the implied threat you can’t help but smile at her possessiveness.  It’s nice to still feel wanted and protected even though you feel the size of a school bus.  Your smile only grows as you watch her prepare not only her own coffee, but a mug for you, ensuring that yours comes from the special jar of decaffeinated she picked up for you. 

*

Janine isn’t the only one to be excited at the prospect of the baby moving, quite a few of your colleagues all too eager to have the chance to feel the life moving inside you.  To say Melissa does not share their enthusiasm is putting it lightly.  You have to hand it to her though, after her initial snap at Janine, she’s been subtle by her standards.  A curling of her fingers into a fist.  A scowl.  A glare. 

One day, however, you hear it; she growls.  You’re seeing your kids off at the end of the day and one of the mother’s hands has apparently wandered a little too far and lingered a little too long for the red head’s liking.  You turn to see her standing at the top if the steps, arms crossed, stony expression on her face.  Politely saying goodbye to your student’s mother, you make your way up the steps to stand in front of the red head.  You reach for her hands, untucking them from her arms and placing them against your stomach.

“You can’t kill them all, you know.”

She frowns. 

“I’ve seen the looks you’ve been throwing at people.”

Her eyes drop to where her hands rest against you and she shrugs.  “I just don’t like people with their hands all over you.”

“’Lissa, there is precisely one person who gets to have their hands all over me and she’s standing right in front of me.”

“But-“

You shake your head.  “They’re excited.  That’s all.  The baby is exciting for them too, especially now she’s started her gymnastics.  It’ll be old news to them soon enough but let them be excited for a while.  Let them be excited about your daughter.”

*

You sit back in your chair with a sigh.  “Seriously, little one, you gotta give the tap dancing break.”  Reaching for your phone, you quickly type out a message to Melissa, asking if she can swing by your classroom when she has a moment.  Barely sixty seconds later you hear familiar footsteps rushing along the corridor.  A few moments later the red head appears in your doorway, hands clinging to the frame to halt her momentum. 

“What’s wrong?” she asks, her worry for you and your daughter never far away.

“You didn’t have to come running,” you say as she enters your classroom, green eyes roving over your frame, head tilting questioningly to the side when she finds nothing amiss.  “I said when you had a minute.”

She shrugs.  “I always got a minute for you and the baby.”

At this, you smile.  You smile because it’s true.  It doesn’t matter how busy, how tired or what else happens in her life, she will make time.  There are times you feel guilty, but somehow, she always manages to persuade you your guilt is unwarranted.  “I need you to tell your daughter to quit throwing a tantrum on my bladder.”

When Melissa frowns you reach out your hands, taking hold of hers and slipping them under the loose jumper you wear.  “I don’t know what voodoo magic you pull but just do what you do.”

Automatically, she moves her hands against your skin and after a few moments you smile in relief. 

Tilting her head, she regards you curiously. 

“She settles when it’s you,” you tell her.

“Really?”

You nod, covering her hands with your own.  “It took me a while to figure out, but yeah.  When it’s your hands she stills.  It’s the same at night in bed too, especially when you speak to her.  She knows you.” 

Melissa tries to hide a sniffle, but the tears glistening in her eyes give her away.

“Turns out she’s just as fussy as her mama as to who has their hands on me.”

[crazyunsexycool]

Ooooh, drabble requests!

Lottie seeing Natasha taking someone down with her thighs. Now Lottie wants to do that too but it’s difficult when her small chubby legs can’t even reach around properly!

😂😂😂😂

I hope you’re talking about this:

The leg thing.

As much as Charlotte loved her Steebie and Bubba and Dad, she also loved and looked up to Nat. So it was no surprise that Charlotte had been hanging out with Nat all morning. Nat loved spending time with her and always made it her mission to do fun things together but this particular morning Nat had to do some training with Steve before she could spend time with Charlotte.

Lottie didn’t care though and was more than happy to watch the training. So she sat in the sparring room in her yellow Belle dress and watched as Steve and Nat trained. She was excited to watch since she knew her favorite people weren’t really hurting each other. Lottie would cheer and gasp and applaud as Steve and Nat completed certain moves.

However when Nat went for the flying neck scissor takedown Lottie was speechless. Her mouth hung open as Nat wrapped her legs around Steve’s neck and her body swung around and throwing Steve to the ground. She immediately ran to stand over Steve who was lying on his back groaning. Her eyes were wide with surprise as she looked over him.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I’m ok.” He says.

“I wanna do that, Natty.” Lottie completely ignored Steve and instead looked up at Nat with awe.

“You heard her Steve, she wants to learn. Get on your knees.” Nat sends Lottie a wink.

Nat explains the steps and shows her what she needs to do. Lottie tries a few times but she can’t seem to do it.

“Maybe it’s your dress, sweetheart.” Steve offers after her last failed attempt.

“It’s not.” Nat shakes her head and takes a knee next to Lottie. “I know you can do this just take a breath.” Nat takes a deep breath and Lottie mimics her. “And try your best.”

“Kay.”

Lottie takes a few steps back and then runs toward Steve. She can manage to wrap her legs around his neck but really she’s still to small, so her short legs to wrap all the way around and she falls before she can swing herself around. Every time Steve manages to catch her every single time.

“Maybe you’re just too little right now.” Steve says softly as to not offend his best girl, it doesn’t work of course.

“Ugh, am not small. Am big girl and can do it.”

“Yeah Steve, she’s a big girl and she can do it.” Nat adds, “Lottie take a few extra steps back and run as fast as you can ok?”

“Kay.”

Lottie does as she’s told and the determination on her face is priceless. She takes one more deep breath and runs with all her might at Steve. Lottie jumps and hooks her legs around his neck and using her momentum she swings around and Steve falls. Her dismount is a bit sloppy but she’s jumping and shrieking in glee that she managed to actually be just like her auntie Nat. The latter who is praising her and celebrating while Steve is laying on the floor, sprawled out like a starfish.

“I did it.” Lottie bounces around and stands over Steve. “See Steebie, am big girl.”

“You showed me, sweet heart. I’m very proud of you.”

“Alright Lots of love, let’s go change for our pool day.” Nat says as she gets up.

“Bye Steebie.”

Lottie grabs her bag that holds her things and skips along to the door.

“Nice save with that fake out.” Nat gives Steve his props for acting as if Lottie had actually managed to take him down.

“Fake out, sure.” He says from his place on the floor. “Go have fun, don’t worry about me. ”

[lunarw0rks]

Through The Ashes | Chapter Two

Summary: You've been given an offer to join the 141 Task Force. Upon taking it, you find yourself ensnared with the mysterious masked man who won't take his eyes off you.

Warning(s): mentions of drowning, minor injuries.

A/N: I have mixed feeling about this chapter. I don't know if I like it or not lmao... | Word Count: 3.1k

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ prev. chapter | next chapter // requests | ao3 | playlist

No Way Out

“You can do better than that.” His voice taunts you as you attempt to knock him over with your punches. A smug smirk forms on Soap’s face as he keeps dodging your best attempts to one-up him.

Sweat poured down your face. This back-and-forth tussle had gone on for over ten minutes, and Soap wasn’t going to let you off easily. Over your first few weeks, you could tell he was beginning to enjoy you being there, and it felt as if you were finally fitting in with them. At least most of them.

You kept swinging, only managing to get a few solid hits on the gloves he was holding up.

“Time out,” you say breathlessly, holding onto your thighs as you try to get your bearings.

“Giving up already?” Soap taunted sarcastically, taking the boxing gloves off and going off to the side to take a drink. You simply shake your head, giving him an eye roll as your reply. He could bounce off the walls for days and still not be tired.

Just as you began to calm your breathing, the sound of a throat clearing made you whip your head around.

It’s exactly who you thought it was. The man who has uttered about fifty words to you over the course of two weeks.

“You’re blocking the weights.” Ghost states in his typical dry inflection. You swiftly step off to the side, moving out of his way.

He grabs a few weights and moves to his own section, acting as if he’s not still watching you, but he hasn’t stopped since the day you got there.

You were about to exit the gym when, to your surprise, he spoke again. “Those were some pathetic punches earlier. Not going to knock anyone out with those,” somehow he managed to sound even more judgemental than he usually did.

You let out a scoff and turned around to face him, watching as he lifted the weights in his hands effortlessly. “Isn’t that the point of training? To… train?” It comes out more quick-tempered than you wanted, but if he can get away with it so can you.

He rolls his eyes without even rolling them. “Not if you don’t improve your form.”

“Alright,” you place a hand on your hip, letting him get whatever amusement out of this conversation he thought he was. “Are you offering a training session?”

“Only if you listen to what I say.” He finishes his rep and sets the weight down, standing square in front of you, raising his palms. Unlike Soap, he didn’t even bother with the boxing gloves.

“Now raise your fists. When you punch, twist your body with the momentum.” He says, waiting patiently for your first jab.

You wind yourself up with a deep breath and slug his palms. He has little to no reaction, and he looks disappointed. “Use your weight, otherwise you’re just slapping the enemy.” His tone has a hint of impatience now.

You give one more, this time using his advice. Of course, he isn’t phased by them yet. “Better...”

That’s all you needed to hear. That’s the closest to praise you’re going to get from someone like him. “I passed the test?” You tilt your head, letting a grin spread across your face.

Ghost furrows his brows, distorting the balaclava fabric above his eyes. “Alright, keep your knickers on.” He says in annoyance, before returning to his weight-lifting.

—

Everyone is deep into reading the work material in front of them, when the door slams open, and Price steps in front of everyone. It was the first time you’d seen such a stern expression on his face.

“I want everyone to be focused. This might be one of the most dangerous missions we’ve attempted yet.” You felt like your stomach dropped to your feet at his words, matching the look on everyone else’s faces as their attention snapped to Price.

“We’ve received word from one of our sources. The reason we aren’t picking up anything useful with the bugs is because we’ve been looking above ground.” He begins passing out intel folders, one for everyone.

You peel the cover back, seeing a map of some sort of maze. Confusion reads on your face and the others around you.

Then it occurs to you why this was so dangerous. It wasn’t a maze. It was a tunnel system. Gallons and gallons of unpredictable water, rushing down tunnels that may have no exit for miles. How were you supposed to find anything useful in a place like that?

“I want you all to study this layout as best as you can. It is to be believed, they’re using the water tunnels to keep off our radar.”

—

The wetsuit wasn’t very comfortable. But the awful part was that your comfort was the least of your concerns right now.

“Follow your instincts. Look for anything suspicious. There’s no guarantee this will lead to anything.” You hear Price’s voice in your ear as he prepares the team. 

“If you hear the water coming, hold onto something. If you can’t do that… Hold your breath.”

Price’s words chill you to your core. Every bone in your body was screaming for you to turn around and run back home, but that wasn’t the job. You had no choice.

Complete the mission, or die trying. No take-backs. No running away.

The 141 stood outside the tunnel. Even the moonlight couldn’t illuminate the inside of it. With hesitation, you followed behind them in formation, rifles drawn and ready. You turned around and took one more good look at the glimmer before each advancement further consumed the light more and more.

After a few feet, everyone flipped their night-vision headset down, switching it on. It took a few seconds for your eyes to adjust to the saturation of the green as you stumbled a bit, relying only on the sounds of their feet to guide you.

Water trickled down the walls. The smell of rust and mildew made your nose crinkle in disgust. The tunnel seemed to be endless. How could this tunnel system be connected to El Sin Nombre?

“Anything up ahead?” You asked Ghost, who was leading the formation. He answers with a soft negative. As you proceed further down the tunnels, they widened and had more disorienting turns. This was the part on paper that looked like a maze.

It was obvious there wasn’t a living soul down there aside from you and your squadmates. You examine the patterns of the turns around you, or lack thereof. You noticed the turns that had vents instead of dead-end walls, others looked like crawl spaces that led somewhere. 

You spoke up, “It’s like a puzzle. The grates open, water floods here, stopping it from flowing somewhere else. What does that have to do with a cartel?”

Some of them mutter in agreement, and the others just keep following. Even if your theory was correct, everyone here was out of their depth, and there was nothing out of the ordinary. 

“The walls are getting taller.” Soap comments, and you noticed it too.

You reach a bigger space, which is like an intersection the tunnels all connect to. A meeting point in the middle. The walls had to be at least ten feet tall by now. Deep down you wondered if this was just a piece of intel that leads nowhere.

“There’s nothing here, Cap,” Soap says into his earpiece, his voice echoing along the tunnels as he speaks.

“Make sure of it.” Price’s voice chirps back through the static. “Then, get the hell out of there.”

All of you turned to retrace your steps, finding this underground exploration completely useless.

The sound of the tunnels groaning halted any movements. All eyes darted around, but you could hear a needle drop. It got more ferocious, and within seconds, you were scrambling to get out of there.

“Everyone out now!” Ghost’s voice boomed, reverberating even harsher after.

—

Burning. That’s the sensation you remember in your lungs as the water went over your head. Thrashing around, smacking into one another as the gallons of it rushed through the tunnels, forcing you to follow the way of them.

You felt the arms of one of your teammates, but couldn’t remember who. You must’ve grabbed them out of instinct before you had time to process it.

Each time your head poked above the water, you choked on it more and more. The woosh of the rushing water drowned out any sounds around you. It was mere seconds before the pressure of the water drove you underneath repeatedly, each time you lost a little more stamina to resist it.

The speed of the water smacked you into someone's gear, knocking you out cold.

— 

A deep wheeze let out of you when you opened your eyes. Looking around you, you were separated from your team. If there was a team left. You were on the bank of a small river, gripping onto the ground below you. You must’ve washed up where one of the tunnels runs off to. 

As you continued to gasp for air, you coughed a few times, spilling out some of the water that was trapped in your lungs.

With a grunt, you forced yourself to your feet. Every muscle in your body was exhausted from fighting against the currents. As you wiped the mud from your hands onto your suit, you scanned the area around you. No sign of your squadmates anywhere, dead silence.

You pressed the button on your mic, but none of your words were making it through. Shit, no signal.

You groaned in frustration and began schlepping downstream, hoping you would see a helicopter or military vehicle you could use to contact Price. So far, you were out of luck.

You continued walking along the water, keeping your eyes peeled for any sign of life around you.

It felt like an endless walk, your wetsuit squishing the mud with each step. Every sound of the surrounding wilderness was muffled by the water still trapped in your ears, making it even more difficult to get your bearings.

Suddenly, you feel a set of hands grabbing your shoulders. The muffled voice is finally audible when the person is close enough to you. “Did you find the others?” You jerked around, seeing Gaz’s wide eyes meet yours. He looks about as beat up as you did.

It took you a few seconds but you eventually shook your head at his question. You rattle your head in an attempt to unclog your ears, which gives a bit of relief.

“I washed up by that river. Haven’t seen anyone else since.”

“Let’s keep walking,” Gaz responds, keeping his head as you both continue to comb the area.

—

Gaz hands you the binoculars he had around his neck, one of the only pieces of equipment he still had. 

“I think I see something.” You say, seeing some movement in the distance.

Gaz almost leaves you in his dust as he eagerly runs towards the movement.

“God Damn thing!” It was a voice you recognized. It was Soap. He throws the walkie-talkie he had in his hands with all his force. The thing practically shatters when it hits the ground. You’re just glad that you managed to find another person. But deep down, you had a sick feeling about where Ghost could be. What if he drowned? Or he’s stuck in the tunnels somewhere?

“We lost everything in there too, Soap,” Gaz says, attempting to calm the other man. “We’ll find something. There’s gotta be a radio around here somewhere, or a vehicle… We need to contact Price.”

—

The three of you began to find your way back to the tunnels. There was no way any of you were leaving Ghost behind. If he had gotten out of them unscathed, he would’ve followed the water and regrouped by now. You had a sick feeling in your stomach about this. He could already be a goner, and you all would be too late.

You approached an entrance into the tunnels, a different one than where you entered them before. It was a shot in the dark searching them, but Ghost would do the same for any one of his colleagues.

You silently patrolled the tunnels, keeping a tight formation, listening for any signs of life.

“Hold on,” you held up your hand, leaning your head in the direction of the sound you heard. “There’s something…” You didn’t bother to wait for the two behind you as you sprinted around corners, shouting out Ghost’s name - hoping that it really was him.

The groans grew louder as your footsteps slowed so you could listen better. When you peered around a corner, you saw him. Your heart skipped a beat, and you got this feeling of accomplishment. Like if you hadn’t found him, you’d be failing someone who wouldn’t hesitate to search the ends of the Earth for you.

“Ghost…” You muttered, rushing over to him. “I need help over here!” You exclaimed, calling the other two to your location. The two of them rush over in an instant, examining him before they hoisted him up, supporting his weight between the two of them.

You took their gear so they could focus on Ghost and get him outside. They set him down in the grass. He was worse off than all of you combined. His arm was busted up, though he was attempting to brush off the attention.

“I’m alright.” His cold tone is back, even after a near-death experience.

Soap gives him a glare and finds some bandage in the backpack, using it as a makeshift sling for Ghost’s arm.

“Price will have helicopters sweeping this area soon, I know he will. We won’t be out here long,” Soap speaks into the humid air, attempting to calm everyone’s shot nerves.

You kneel next to one another in the damp grass, looking around and listening for any signs of the helicopters. You glanced over at Ghost, who you could tell was struggling to keep himself upright. You noticed a slice by his rib, which cut through the fabric of his wetsuit.

“You’re bleeding.” You say quietly, motioning at the blood coming from his abdomen. He merely murmurs inaudible disapproval, managing to brush off the attention even in his most vulnerable moments.

You ignored his stubbornness and peeled back the torn fabric of his suit, seeing a large slice along his upper stomach. You rifled through the small first aid kit and poured some disinfectant on the gash. He stifled a moan, but you could tell this wasn’t his first time with an injury like this - and probably won’t be the last. With the remaining bandage, you wrapped it around his tender abdomen, hoping that would keep the area clean until the helicopters arrived.

Several minutes of waiting passed. The chopper blades woke you all out of your positions in the grass. Soap and Gaz rose to their feet immediately, waving down the chopper. Ghost stood up on his own, using his remaining strength to get up with one arm.

You felt a relief like you never have. Waiting for the chopper began to feel like an eternity, and you were just glad to get out of this hellhole.

—

“I’m glad you’re all standing.” Price greeted the group when they arrived back, giving each of them a scan as they walked past him. “Go get checked out in medical and get some rest.” He followed each of your movements with his eyes. You could tell he was concerned, wondering what happened back there. He must’ve lost contact with all of you pretty quickly.

Aside from a mild concussion and some scrapes and bruises, you felt lucky to still be standing on your own two feet. The other two had similar injuries from the mission, and they were resting away in their own quarters, probably savoring the few hours of relaxation they would get out of this cooldown.

—

It was the middle of the night. You strolled into the kitchenette, not expecting anyone to be awake after such a hellacious day it was. The figure sitting at the table made you jump slightly, though he didn’t look phased. He’s sitting there, no lights on in the kitchen. A bottle of Scotch is sitting on the table in front of him, and by the looks of it, he’s made quite a dent.

“You’re not supposed to drink when you’re on those painkillers.” Your tone wasn’t even judgmental. It was more of an acceptance that he was going to do these things regardless. He didn’t care about himself. That’s just the way he was.

He scoffed and took another sip, looking straight ahead of him.

“How’s the arm?” You question as you stand next to the table, looking into his eyes for a few seconds, before you both break away from the stare, almost in unison.

He nods, “It’s alright. Nothing I can’t handle.” His tone is almost cocky for a second. You wonder if he does that on purpose. But why?

You give a soft chuckle, knowing he’s probably been through worse. You grab a glass from the cabinet and pour yourself some of the whiskey as well, eating your words. You both sit in silence for a while, sipping on your drinks, but obviously, he’s ahead of you by a few. The burn in your stomach soothes the aches your body was still experiencing.

After a bit of sitting there, he slides the bottle your way and leans back in his chair, stretching his back. 

You would be lying if you said you weren’t ogling him. The skin peaked through when his shirt rode up. The way you could see his toned core and the waistband of his sweatpants showed off his v-line. Hopefully, he was too drunk to notice. That was your only crutch to lean on if you were caught.

Without a word, he went to bed, leaving you to feel prudish all by yourself.

—

After a few minutes of sitting alone in the kitchen you stumble to bed. Memories of the distressing mission flooded your head. You remember the feeling of your hands gripping onto someone, and then blackness. Something about it felt like you already knew the answers, your brain just didn’t put all the pieces together yet.

“I got you.” The tender phrase echoed through your ears over and over, making you sit up in your bed.

It was his voice. Ghost. It had to be Ghost. 

He’s typically a great swimmer, one of the best trained on the team. He would’ve had time to move to cover, but he didn’t.

You didn’t grab him as you fought the waves, he grabbed you. You thought maybe you were thinking about it all too deeply. 

It was a bold theory, but you began to wonder if that’s how he hurt his arm - blocking your body from the violent water.

TAGLIST - @neoarchipelago