#like by just seeing him as 'white enough' he was able to be publically known and regarded

[shoezuki]

writing my final essay on the Beat Generation rn and that whole literary movement in america. and my essay topic is basically me arguing that bob kaufman Fucks and was the best beat. because tbh he was

but this also like. contains a lot of my distaste for the beat movement and that this course has really made me more.... like. i dont really like the beat movement much? i mean the biggest aspect of it, of the idea of freedom and no responsibility or consequences is somethin i dont like. most the other shit, bout sexual freedom and movement and anticapitalist n antimaterialist notions are all good. but the beats are just so inherently American. the underlying idea of freedom is SO inherently american in terms of like... the idea of it. its so very 'i can do whatever i want, whenever i want, and i dont care if it hurts other people because i value my freedom over the consequences or responsibilities i would be expected to assume.' its this idea of freedom in terms of absolute individuality and its far too self absorbed for me.

but another Issue i take w it was like. the movement was heavily inspired by black culture, and all about defying social norms and rejecting conformity. but there was still a major issue with norms in the movement itself or at least in terms of how media perceived it. like yes it was about liberty and freedom but also all the most well known beat writers are white dudes. many of them like kerouac held views of women as inherently lesser still.

and like. in that regard most of the most known beats who are like. THE beat writers. were kinda hypocrites. like kerouac didnt think women could write and when he met one woman who was a good writers he saw her as an exception. and with burroughs he was like, from an extremely wealthy family and was given an 'allowance' his whole life and never had to work and so his rejection of capitalism and the job market feels flat in that he can say all that from a place of privilege.

i mentioned it to my professor when we'd talk bout it but honestly the most authentic beats who didnt seem hypocritical or make the movement feel hypocritical to me were those who were marginalized and didnt have a choice in rejecting society. like allen ginsberg was one the Big Beats as well and to me he is the most Beat out of the main three of him and burroughs and kerouac. cuz ginsberg was an openly gay man in a long term relationship, he was jewish and lived on the fringes of 'acceptable' american society as an outlier.

it especially goes for bob kaufman. he was always left out of the beat movement and ignored and even in modern times doesnt really get the credit and recognition that he deserves. but holy fuck if anyone was ACTUALLY beat it was him! he was a black man with a jewish father. he created poetry without ever really writing it down besides on napkins and would 'perform' his poetry on streets and yelling out poems or sticking his head in peoples cars. he did not ever seek out publishing his work and he purposefully would confuse any publishers and would lie about himself and his life so even now some of the aspects of his biography is confusing. he wanted to be forgotten! he was never concerned with actually carrying on his work or creating it and there was something beautiful in that. he was constnatly accosted by police to the point that specific officers would harass and abuse him whenever they felt like it. he actually experienced a lot of the bullshit and hardships the beats rejected and criticised. many white beat writers chose to reject social norms, but he had no choice! theres something so much more authentic about the rejection of society when you by virtue of existing cant even exist within societal norms itself.

he was just. such an interesting dude. and the beat movement abandoned him because he was too far on the fringes of society that the public couldnt accept him. motherfucker wanted that, in a way, though. like he took back his silencing by silencing himself. he wasnt being forgotten or silenced or ostracized anymore, because he wanted to be forgotten.

[lufyuu]

,, Love Quest ''

Background character male reader x Protagonist oc

Part 1 Part 2

Tw/s: dub-con at the start, dacryphilia, rough sex, semi-public sex, overstimulation, multiple rounds.

In a world where everyone's assigned a role they have to be, you were one of the many unlucky yet common ones to get the role of a background character. One who couldn't even interact with the protagonist if you wanted. The way it works is through the system. There is a system that essentially controls the world. This system can create scenarios, assign roles, etc. This whole world was built by it. Everyone has to obey it, excluding the protagonist themself, that is. Some even say it's possible for the protagonist to control the system itself but, that's just a rumour.

Of course, the role with the most power is the protagonist. Anyone would dream to have that power. To be the protagonist and have everyone fawn for you, throwing themselves at your feet, worshipping your every step. Not only that, his love interest is the best of the best, the prettiest girl you'd ever be able to lay your eyes on, the one you'd never be able to get with if you weren't the protagonist. Just like any other previous protagonist in this world, the current one is an extrovert, River Sterling. He's a perfect guy in every way. He's very well known due to being the protagonist, but also, he is very talented. It's as if there is nothing he can't do. He's even the top 1 on campus. Very rarely is he seen getting anything under an A+. Despite everyone constantly praising him and falling at his feet, he remained humble.

Just like any other day, you enter the building with books in your hands. You had to return these to the professor after borrowing them for a day. No matter how much you studied, you always remained top 2, and because of that, you were annoyed by River. Of course, it's not his fault that he's the protagonist, but you couldn't help but still feel negatively towards him. Going up the many many stairs, you overhear a girl yelling, maybe at a guy? You're not sure what kind of situation it is, but you guess it is a fight between a couple. "You never even spend time with me! Am I not enough!? Destiny binded us together, and yet here you are, doing nothing to please me, your girlfriend!", it sounded like Aria, the protagonist's main love interest. "Aria, well how would I be able to spend time with you when I feel nothing towards you", River says with a nonchalant tone, shocking you a bit, you've never heard him using that tone before. You stop in your tracks, right in front of the door, where you can hear Aria yelling at him. "Y-you...what!?", you can hear Aria say in disbelief. "H-how is that even possible! I'm who you're supposed to be with, I complete you, I'm your other half!", even without being able to see her, you can tell she's tearing up, probably with a red face. Though despite her crying, you don't hear River comforting her. Which is again, very out of character for him.

Next thing you know, you hear a very loud slap accompanied by running sound towards the door. Before you could even react, the door swings white open, a blonde haired girl running out of the room, knocking you down in the process. You stare at the direction she runs to. "Who are you, why did you eavesdrop", you turn back to River, looking down at you, glaring, even. His once gentle eyes seem to be clouded. You don't even recognize him. "[N-Name]", you gulp, you felt as if the man in front of you was going to eat you whole if you said the wrong thing. "[Name]..? I've heard of you, the top 2, right?", he asks in an almost curious but borderline mocking tone. You remain seated on the floor, books scattered everywhere. "Are you not going to explain yourself?", he raises an eyebrow, walking towards you. Taking this as a sign to get the fuck out of there, you quickly grab the books and try to run off, only to have your shirt grabbed by the tall guy.

"Running off are we?", he looks at you with a questiong expression, why would you avoid him, he wont eat you, will he? With the clock ticking, both of you know that soon, this hall will be packed with students, fortunate for you, unfortunate for him. He doesn't want you to go before he can pry some information out of you.

Thinking of a plan, he quickly drags you to the room, shutting the door behind him so you won't be able to run out without him stopping you mid-way. With his hands crossed, he asks you once more, "Why were you eavesdropping?", his tone even more demanding. "I was on my way to the professor's office, I just overheard some things. Can I go now?", you give a quick explanation, wanting to get out of this situation as quick as possible. Though, he wouldn't allow it. "How much did you hear?", "not much, please let me go now," you walk towards the door, turning the door handle only to see it's locked. It shouldn't be. The door can only be locked from the inside, and by the looks of things, River didn't have time to lock the door.

[System: Love Quest]

In order to proceed, please engange in intercourse.

And just as the system suddenly appeared in their face, a percentage bar appeared in the corner of the room and it stood tall, at 0%. With one look, the both of you knew what it wanted. "What the fuck!?", you yell, looking at the window and then at the protagonist who clearly isn't phased. He only sighs, rolling his eyes, as if he was annoyed by this notification. "This shit again", he whispers, loud enough for you to overhear on accident. He's gone through this before..? is what you were thinking. You've almost never gotten a window from the system, let alone one with any sexual themes. If River wasn't shocked, that means it's probably a common occurrence for him.

The two of you stare at one another for an uncomfortable period of time. As if time stopped for a moment. "This is getting real annoying", he says, sighing and stepping towards you. You back away until your back is pressed on the door making you unable to escape as he grabs your chin, lifting it up and looking at you. "You'll make do", he says before pressing his lips onto yours. Out of shock, you try to push him off, wanting to yell at him. How could he, a protagonist, be kissing someone like you? You're what others would perceive as not worthy of being in his presence let alone be kissing him. Yet here you are, getting your mouth explored by the man himself. Your eyes were opened from shock but you closed it after a few seconds, wanting to savour this moment. His hand made its way to your cheek. He was very gentle with both his hand and lips, making you lean into his touch. Before long, you felt as if you were running out of breath, how long can he even kiss you for!? Fortunately for you, he let go of the kiss, panting and trying to catch his breath after that incredible make out session. "We're not done yet", he says, pointing out the elephant in the room which is the percentage bar which still stands tall at 0%, no progress has been made, making the room inaccessible from the outside. The doors being magically locked also kept anyone from getting out before the goal was met. You knew you had no other choice but to do this in order to get out, as much as you were annoyed by the guy as a student, you couldn't deny his charm, the way his eyes looked into yours, the way his grazed his thumb over your lips. Who wouldn't fall head over heels for him? Anyone would die to be you at this very moment.

Without any hesitation, you managed to gather the courage to pull him into another kiss, you could feel him smiling into the kiss as he reciprocated. Moving his hands to your hips, trailling down to your clothed butt. Gropping and fondling it before he eventually unzips your pants, letting them slide down to your ankles. Leaving your bottoms almost bare if not for your briefs covering your private part. "Ahm...agh", the both of you moaned into the intense kiss before letting go. "You're a good kisser", you comment, gasping for air once more. He smirks, "of course, I'm not the protagonist for nothing", he chuckles a bit. You felt hands slipping into your briefs, making its way to your ass, gripping it even more now. He really seems to be enjoying gropping you. You felt his fingers move closer and closer to your hole before he inserts a finger into you, causing you to grip his arms in shock. "A-agh..!", you let out a surprised moan, his finger wiggling around, trying to get your hole to relax a bit, "you're so tense, [Name], loosen up a little", his inserted another finger, making you unable to keep your composure no matter how much you try to.

You feel his fingers thrusting into you, as if trying to get you to cum from his fingers alone. His long and slender fingers were quite deep in you. It wasn't long before he added another finger. And now that three fingers are going in and out of your hole, you feel as if you're aboit to reach your climax. You close your eyes, moaning loudly. He took notice to this and immediately stopped his fingers as if knowing you were about to cum. You're now puzzled by his actions, why did he stop? "I don't want you cumming from just my fingers, that wouldn't be fun now would it?", you then hear the sound of pants unzipping, realizing it was from him. He pulled his hard cock out of his briefs. You stared at it for a while before he snapped you back to reality, "eyes up here, angel", he teased, giving you a pet name while he was at it. "What? Have you never seen a cock this big?", you definitely haven't. It wasn't just long, just looking at the girth of it made you shiver a bit, how will that even fit. It was befitting of a protagonist, he's perfect in every way, even in his physical attributes. "Enough staring, angel", he says as he suddenly picks your legs up. You instinctively put your arms around him tightly so you don't end up falling, "hey!", you yell, this wasn't a pleasant surprise, you could've fallen, "relax, you're quite light", he is very strong afterall, he's joined almost every single sport available at this point.

You decide to put your trust in him, he's able to hold you up for over a minute now, there's no way he'll suddenly drop you, that'd ruin the moment on top of you getting hurt. After the shock wore off, you notice something poking at your hole, "hm..?", you let out a hum of confusion, turning your head down only to see his cock at your entrance, wanting to be inside you. "Are you ready to be filled up like you've never had before?", the now cocky-like protagonist asks with a slight chuckle at the end. You nod and immediately feel his cock thrust up inside of you, almost halfway in already. He grunts at how tight you are despite him having prepared your sweet little hole for his cock beforehand. Trying his best to get his cock all the way into your hole as you moan out in pain and pleasure, "relax why don't you?", he gives a teasing smile. Leaning in for a kiss, he manages to get you to relax and without another word, thrusts the rest of his cock into you, shocking you once more. You accidentally bite his lip in the process, drawing a bit of blood. "Agh!", he pulls back, tapping his finger on his lip and seeing that blood is coming out of the wound. He focuses on you once more, as if signifying he's about to move. You give a slight nod and he starts to thrust in and out of you, slowly and sensually at first. "You're really warm inside", he comments while thrusting into you, looking into your eyes as you manage to keep them open.

After a while of the sensual and slow fucking, he gets tired of it, wanting to thrust into you quicker. And so, he does as he wants. Thrusting into you quicker this time, rougher. You close your eyes and tighten the grip on his upper back, scratching his skin through his shirt. Your moans are no longer considered quiet, you're full on moaning your head out. That was before you realized the bell had rung, students were on their way to class and they'd pass by this specific room. You bite your lip in order to muffle out the moans, keeping it somewhat quiet in order to not get caught. River on the other hand, didn't like this one bit. He wants to hear your delicious and sweet moans, you should let them out for him to hear. "Stop biting your lip, angel, let me hear you", something in his voice made you want to obey his words, and for some reason, you find yourself no longer biting your lip, now you're just letting it all out, moaning and crying out for him.

The faster he went, the more you felt like you were about to reach your climax. He also seemed to be close. The both of you sweating, moaning, grunting. "I'm, agh, gonna cum...!", he says as he shoots his load all in you, coating your inner walls with his seed, some even dripping out. At that moment, you also came, releasing your juice all over your stomach. With the two of you now panting and gasping for air, River carries you to a nearby table, letting the two of you rest for a while. Just then, the door swings wide open, "Who the fuck was making all that noise!?", a teacher yells into the room, seemingly staring straight at them. The teacher looks around in confusion, "huh...I was so sure there was someone here...", He then turns his heels and walks back out, closing the doors on his way. You who were covering your face due to this, looked in the direction the teacher was in confusion, "did..he not see us..?", you ask River, to which he replies, "the system did that, probably", as if the system heard the man, it dings and the both of you turn your heads towards the bar of percentage now sitting at a solid 30%, "huh? 30%?", you say out loud in even more confusion, "it wants us to have sex and get it up to 100%", River says without missing a beat, "ready for round two?"

———

"Agh..! To..oo big, ahghh...", you try to say in-between moans, overstimulated by his cock and the way he bites your nipples. "You're taking me so well", at least he's enjoying it, a lot. You even wonder if he has an infinite stamina, but of course your thoughts were drowned by the time he came in you for the third time. How many rounds has it even been? The bar has been stuck at 99% for so long, when will this end..You're so overstimulated at this point, River's cock has been relentlessly fucking you dumb. You can't even think anymore, nor can you let out any coherent words. It's been at least a couple of hours since the both of you started this, why hasn't it ended. Your cheeks are wet, wet from the tears which had been and are still rolling down your face. He loves witnessing your debauchery. Your clothes have been discarded to the side by now, you don't know where but they're on the floor somewhere. His thrusts get faster and faster, you didn't even know he could go this fast but here he is, fucking you with inhuman speed. "C'mon..ah..come with me, my angel...agh", he moans and grunts while saying this. Then his thrusts stop and you feel even more liquid filling your already over-filled hole, making it impossible to be kept inside and most of it dripping out your hole and onto the floor which has a pool of both yours and his cum. At that very moment, you feel your whole body give out as your vision blurs until you eventually black out.

———

What happened in the room stayed in the room. Your life went on as usual, the normal schedule. Though, one thing has definitely changed. That is the fact that you are now dating the protagonist despite still having the role of a 'background character' . Everyone was shocked but learned to accept it. Who are they to defy the protagonist's wishes? One person in particular wasn't happy about this. None other than his ex, Aria. Everyone saw that coming from a mile away, though, so nobody paid her any mind. After that, River took any and every class you took. Science? You'd see him sit there with an empty seat next to him, looking up at you and asking with a big smile, "come! Sit here, angel!", while patting the seat next to him to signal for you to sit. PE? He'd always get you into his team no matter what. No matter how bad the other team wanted you on theirs, they'd never have you as you now belong to River. Being in the same class as you had its advantages. That is, being able to fuck you in class without anyone noticing. To be frank, the both of you found it out on accident. It was during class when the both of you got a new love quest. You thought of leaving the class to finish but the system didn't let you. It wanted the both of you to do it at that very moment. When he took the initiative and pulled your shirt up to bite your nipples, not a single student nor the teacher had any reaction, it was as if the both of you were protected by an invisible bubble that allowed the quest to take place. That, combined with the fact the teacher couldn't see the both of you the first time, confirmed your suspicions that they were indeed unable to see you.

From that day forward, the two of you almost always got a love quest every single day of school. The session would last at least 2 hours, leaving both of you a hot sweaty mess once it was over and done with. You'd always be embarrassed and extra tight during these. The way you felt eyes on you, it was as if they could see you, but in reality, they really can't. You'd tighten up at the thought of them watching you, making River grunt even more due to your tightness. He'd smirk and ram even harder into you once this happens. "Naughty boy, you get off to the thought of people watching, huh?", he'd always tease you. These love quests would be random, though. Despite it happening every day, the two of you could never predict when it'd occur. It could be very early in the morning, in class, or even during an activity. It was always random, so why would you always see River getting hard even before the love quest appear...? It's probably nothing. You're just paranoid.

☆☆☆☆☆

Apologies for the wait. My schedule's been real hectic lately. This is not proofread, so please excuse the probably many mistakes/typos!

I hope you enjoyed it! If you have any questions/reqs, please do send them my way!<3

[theoldsports]

SHITHEAD.

Art Donaldson x Reader.

warnings: a lot of them. 18+, slapping, begging, major angst, brat!Art, an argument with make up sex. Art is really manipulative because… he is a bit and we all know it. [Y/N] is very ill-tempered too. it’s dirty.

can be a part ii to SPONTANEOUS, or read as a standalone. this is my favorite piece of writing i have published on this account.

The bed was empty beside [Y/N]. She stared at Art’s empty side of the bed. The soft green sheets and mix-matched pillowcases went unoccupied. Not because he wasn’t home, but because [Y/N] hated Art so he had to sleep downstairs on the couch.

It wasn’t that she really hated Art. She did hate him right now. Not in a funny way. Their drive home had been silent. Poor Art didn’t know how to facilitate conversation that wouldn’t worsen the situation. His sorrowful eyes, but honest eyes kept glancing from the road to where [Y/N] sat in the passenger seat. The real showdown had started between them something awful when the door to their house slammed shut.

See, Art cried when he got mad. Or sad. Or profoundly excited. Their wedding photos were two-thirds Art crying and trying not to show that he was crying.

Art hadn’t cried tonight yet. That pissed [Y/N] off. She was furious and he seemed to feel absolutely zero discernible feelings about that.

They argued all the time. It rarely lasted all too long.

It was different this time. When [Y/N] started to say something cruel or shout or weep, Art got a little smaller, but he alarmingly stood his ground. He averted his gaze and said “I respectfully disagree,” or “What the fuck do you know about how I feel?” in a dangerously level tone.

Fighting with Art about this wasn’t fun. He was too cool about. He knew he was right. [Y/N] wanted to yell and scream because Art was so relaxed and condescending in his tone. When the man who had spent his teenage years getting referred at competition after competition as literally Ice tonelessly said: “Jesus Christ, aren’t you bored yet? What, going to over-explain the same information to me again, or…?” Finally, that had made [Y/N] drag herself to bed and yank the door closed violently enough that she felt the metallic vibration run all the way up to her shoulder.

And she was still laying there, staring at Art’s side of the bed.

At the Zweig’s party that night, there were a few hot topics in the Donaldsons’ sphere:

1) Lots of congratulations from people that had known them grow up, but hadn’t seen them since the wedding or prior.

This was mostly very kind. It dragged that smirk up Art’s face and caused his fingers to dig tighter into [Y/N]’s waist. That look of pride and tenderness on his face was more than welcome.

2) Lots of questions about Patrick. His lack of attendance was felt.

Both Donaldsons dodged these question as much as they could. Art kept an eye on [Y/N]’s liquor consumption. He knew how embarrassed she would be if she said something she regretted in front of Patrick’s family. Patrick had hurt them both, but Art’s heart went out to [Y/N]. Her world had been built around Patrick’s from a young age. Art was trying to engineer his own world higher around her so she wouldn’t be able to see the old place and people that had burned her over the walls.

3) “You’re married. When are we going to be seeing a little Donaldson running around?”

With Art keeping an eye on [Y/N]’s drinking, she hadn’t really been keeping an eye on him. She just assumed he would keep his shit together. Art drinking in public was never really a concern. He wasn’t a big drinker anyway. At this point, his career mattered more and he was approaching his mid-twenties which made him feel surely less young than he had once. He wasn’t a casual beer guy either. It was Patrick who liked beer and Art who would have a moledo or something sometimes. Art did like white girl drinks, though. Tequila and fruity stuff. He had been able to shoot shot after shot of vodka like a pro in college at a season-end celebration.

Art was a tight-lipped man, but he was a giggly drunk who he got pretty comfortable talking out of his ass from behind a glass with an umbrella in it. Art was rarely comfortable with anything, so a drink or two at a party was welcome to him.

Another important point of context is that the largest point of tension between Art and [Y/N] was starting a family. They desperately wanted a child together, but they disagree on when. [Y/N] felt like she was fresh out of college, so she figured they had plenty of time. Art felt that he was fresh out of college, so he figured they may as well get to it.

Their arguments about this were once semi-regular. In the last four months or so, Art timidly bowed out and hoped [Y/N] would tell him when she was ready (sooner rather than later). He got tired of the low-tier shouting matches. Instead, he would pick fights about things that were decidedly lower stakes when he was bored.

Art had let [Y/N] field comments about family planning throughout the night. Unfortunately, when Art was polishing off a second drink, he ran his mouth a little bit.

Knowing he was the designated driver that night, Art did go easy. Art was also, like, five pounds. While he could hold his liquor with grace, he always got giggly. He watched with heavy eyelids as [Y/N] walked away to collect another drink following the dinner portion of the evening. The paper placecards with their shared last name emblazoned on them rested comfortably in Art’s inner jacket pocket to be kept as a memory.

Some guy who sold boat insurance and liked to rub elbows with talent was talking Art’s ear off. Art couldn’t remember his name, but [Y/N] would know it.

This was the precise moment that got Art in trouble.

Because when the guy whose name Art was sure started with an R said: “So! You’re married. When are we going to be seeing a little Donaldson running around?”

Art said:

“Any day now, I hope. Tomorrow. I’m good to go. [Y/N] thinks now’s not a great time for her.”

He had said it with a smirk and a stupid little laugh. It was basically locker room talk. Big deal. He would’ve said it to Patrick with [Y/N] present in the room. This guy wasn’t Patrick and he was technically speaking behind her back.

Art had forgotten how close they were standing to the bar. He had forgotten that the frequency of his pitchy tenor was known to carry. He had forgotten that he was well known to be an instigator of fights even though he never actually threw the first punch. He had forgotten that he hadn’t been whispering. He had forgotten that this guy… Richy? Ronnie? was pretty much a stranger who had no business knowing their business.

Now, Art was sleeping on the couch and his side of the bed was empty.

Jackass.

[Y/N] stared still at the empty bed and didn’t know how to articulate her upset to an Art who had seemingly yet to feel ashamed.

She had a headache and was tired. But sleep wasn’t going to come easy and all she had to look forward to was a hangover.

Art didn’t really snore, but he was a heavy breather when he slept. The lack of his white noise made the A/C blowing and the stairs creaking too loud. Maybe all of this was on [Y/N] for making Art uncomfortable, she dared to think.

Then she reminded herself that it was Art’s fault for talking too much and for drinking when he knew he was supposed to drive home.

[Y/N] rolled over to face away from Art’s spot. All she could think about is how his hands always sleepily pawed at her to pull her back when she got too far away from him before he fell asleep.

“So, what’d you do?” Patrick asked.

“She hates me.” Art replied. It was almost a question.

“I asked what you did, not what she feels. She already told us what she feels and it’s that she hates you.” Patrick stated. When Patrick had stopped through town for a match, he had come by for dinner with, well, his best friends. This had been right after they’d gotten engaged.

Art sniffled. He didn’t want to cry in front of Patrick. Art would sooner cry in front of his own father. Both men would have laughed in his face, but it would have stung more from Patrick. “We got into a fight yesterday. A big one. Like, the first, uh, big one. She’s worried about the f—“

“The future? Please,” Patrick said bitterly. He frowned and his jaw tightened, but he combatted it by tossing Art a smile before the other man noticed the tension. “Stupid. You’re gonna marry her. You’ll play tennis. She’ll do her… columns? Articles. I don’t get what it is that she does—“

“She writes for—“

“Sure, yeah. You’re gonna have two kids so you can each pick a favorite one. And she’s gonna be a pain in your ass forever. Don’t be a pussy.”

Art sniffled again and stared at the floor. “I didn’t mean to do anything wrong. I didn’t think I did,” Art said meekly. “I don’t get it. She gets so mad sometimes. At me.” Patrick stared at him blankly. Art had to know that he was usually at least a little bit the problem.

“Did she do the thing where she calls you a—“

“Shithead bastard?”

“Shithead bastard.” Both boys said at the same time. Art dragged his hands through his hair and looked up at Patrick. Both of them quirked a smirk at the other.

“See,” Patrick started. “You’ll be fine. Fuckin’ go after her.”

“And say what!”

“Uh… ‘I’m sorry?’ You do that kinda shit. She’ll like that.”

It was impossible to know how long [Y/N] laid there. The clock was on Art’s side and she would get spitting mad if she rolled back over.

She could just go downstairs and tell Art to come back to bed. He was probably sleeping just fine.

“Hey, hon, you don’t hate me, right?” Art’s voice whispered in the darkness.

[Y/N] was fairly certain she had imagined it. She had not heard his sweaty feet on the stairs or his fingers against the doorknob. Quickly, [Y/N] whipped over to face the door behind her.

There was Art. His sweatpants sat low on his hips and his shirt was long gone. Clothing didn’t often survive the night on Art’s back.

Really, she couldn’t help but wonder how long it had taken Art to work through coming upstairs so quietly. “Mm?” [Y/N] groaned in question.

Art rocked his right shoulder into the doorway to lean. His arms were crossed and his eyes straight ahead on her from what [Y/N] could tell in the glow of the hallway’s thermostat. “Please just tell me you don’t hate me and I’ll let you go back to sleep. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

With a sigh, [Y/N] sat up and rolled her cracking shoulders back. “I don’t hate you, Art.” Her heart melted a little bit. [Y/N] knew it was immature, but her special attack in arguments since childhood was to bandy around the word hate a lot. Not that she had said it to Art tonight, but she had no doubt said it before. More than once. More times than she could count, maybe.

She was surprised Art had never asked this before. That surprise hurt in an a way that was too complex to describe. “I could never hate you.” [Y/N] continued, voice hushed only because it was dark out.

Art’s posture relaxed slightly. “You promise you don’t?” Said Art’s evermore crippling lack of self-confidence.

“I promise.” [Y/N] replied calmly.

“Okay. Thank you.” Art said in a small voice.

“I love you, baby. I don’t hate you. You shouldn’t have to ask that. I’m sorry I made you feel like you even have to ask that.”

Art frowned sharply. “No, I’m the one that should be sorry. You told me nicely not to talk about—“

“Don’t play that. You have to know you don’t feel like you did anything wrong, so you don’t have to invent a situation where you’re some horrible person.”

Art was silent.

[Y/N] continued. “I’m pissed because you told Randy,” RANDY. His name was RANDY. That’s it. “Our business. My business, really. He’s an asshole. It’s fine. Well, not now, but eventually. But you kinda martyred yourself on it. You don’t have to do that and I don’t hate you. You know I don’t… Right?”

“I’m sorry.” Art said quickly. He was gifted at making every single minor problem his own fault. He knew he was a little bit of an awful person for that, but he would die before admitting it. Art would hide behind his martyring habit as long as his cross could hold him, though. [Y/N] hadn’t noticed before this moment, but she could see the shining of his eyes in the digital blue-green glow. Tears. This time, less than obvious waterworks. Aw.

“I’m sorry. I’m still pissed at you for running your mouth, but I’m sorry too.”

Art nodded, said nothing else and reached for the doorknob.

Here is a frustrating thing about Art.

He said he was going to leave for downstairs once [Y/N] said she didn’t hate him. He started to make good on that vow. If he says something, he’s going to do it, even though he doesn’t have to do it.

“Come on,” [Y/N] called louder than she’d been whispering. “Come here, pretty baby.”

Pretty Baby by Blondie had been their wedding song. She had been calling him that for almost as long as she had known him. Saying it, or hearing the song always made that stunning, small crooked smile stretch up beyond his sad puppy eyes all the way to his ears.

Art’s kryptonite was pretty baby. They both knew it.

He turned to look at her with a slight blush on his cheeks, almost visible in the dark. Art shifted one of his feet childishly over the other in apprehension.. “Don’t make me say it again. I don’t like to ask twice.” [Y/N] reminded him.

After a hasty nod, Art was in bed before he [Y/N] blinked. The blonde sat bolt upright beside [Y/N] with his eyes wide. Hesitant, but coyly so. He knew this pattern. The agony and shame from her brutality would only last so long. Housepets loved to cause trouble for treat.

Not to say that Art liked to start fights so he could play some low-status lapdog that got to feel his wife’s fingers comb through his hair the way he liked as a reward for an apology. The man bit his cheek to avoid a devious smirk. A part of him did like to do that sometimes, though.

He always got away with it. He was such a nice boy.

[Y/N] rolled her eyes and leaned back into the threadbare pillows. With a finger, she beckoned Art nearer. Hesitation eliminated, Art flopped slowly down beside [Y/N]; she on her back, he on his side, facing her. Delicately, Art’s fingers dragged down [Y/N]’s arm to curl in her fingers.

Not long after that, his plush mouth climbed down from her neck. Then shoulders and collarbones. Then bicep. Elbow. Forearm and wrist. Down her hand to her silver-studded ring finger. Each kiss with accompanied with an honest and dutiful I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. He was sorry. Genuinely. Sorry for the upset he brought his wife, but not the cause. Art’s beautiful duel-colored eyes glanced up at [Y/N]’s blown pupils through her own fingers.

“I didn’t mean to talk about you like that… I just… I love you so much that I want more of you. That’s all, honey,” Art laid his head on [Y/N]’s upper chest and his mouth moved against the front of her throat. “I’m just a little stupid, huh…”

Under his lips, Art could feel the rumble of a laugh rip through [Y/N]’s throat. Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair to hold him in place. “Do-don’t talk about yourself like that,” she mumbled and gave his hair a lovely tug with both hands. He whimpered. [Y/N] wanted to bottle that sound. Art would always remember what she said next and how she said it: “Only I get to talk about you like that… St-stupid.”

This was the version of [Y/N] he was going to remember when he thought of her every day for the rest of his life. That sentence, the way her hair hung from where he had pushed it away from her neck. The sting of the cold metal from her wedding ring on the back of his neck and the stone of her engagement ring pressing into where he reached his palm to place his hand over hers. There was just the wrong amount of clothes between them. Her eyes ringed smoky from the makeup smudges and the exhaustion.

“Say it again.” Art whispered, swinging a knee over [Y/N]’s thighs so he could stare down at her. His forehead pressed softly against [Y/N]’s.

[Y/N]’s mouth fell open slightly with a breathy exhalation. Holy shit. “What, pretty baby, you want me to tell you how stupid you are? You like that?” [Y/N] almost whispered into Art’s still lips. He was too shocked to kiss her back, but too turned on to pull away. Art whimpered louder than before. [Y/N] felt him nod.

So she didn’t hold back. “You think I need to punish you after you behaved like that today or something? You need to atone for what a moron you were, shithead?” [Y/N] kept her tone light enough to just about tease as her nose trailed along the side of his. Her objective was to belittle. Her nails slid down Art’s muscular, sturdy back.

They both knew Art was a masochist on his worst days. Did he get off on being degraded sometimes? Sure. But this series of events was ridiculously new and exciting for [Y/N]. And shockingly obviously for Art too.

His hips pressed into her pathetically. “What? Did you need help with something?” She asked innocently when she felt Art’s hard-on against her thigh. [Y/N] kissed him distractingly warmly for how she was treating him. Art’s head spun and he couldn’t seem to make sense of anything anymore. He had backed himself into the best kind of corner.

Across Art’s hips and side went [Y/N]’s left hand, to the front of his sweatpants. Humiliatingly, Art blinked tears out of his eyes and screwed them shut. His mouth opened and closed, but no intelligent sound came out. [Y/N] planted a kiss at the corner of his parted lips. His strong arms boxed [Y/N] protectively in from above, but she had him locked into place, really. “Baby, if you want something, you know you have to ask for it.”

“Nnh,” Art tried, eyes stuck shut. His attention was mostly spent hold himself up over his wife. His insanely gorgeous wife. [Y/N]’s other hand grabbed his jaw tenderly. He still didn’t look at her. Art was gathering his courage. “Yo-you already told me I couldn’t have what I wanted.”

With a sharp inhale, [Y/N] grip went from gentle to nonexistent. At the lack of contact, Art’s damp eyes crept open one at a time to see if his brattiness had overstepped the situation. His frightened eyes caught [Y/N]’s. She popped the side of his face sharply with an open palm. Art blinked and tipped his head to the side like a dog.

That was big trouble, huh?

“Fuck,” he said. Both of them panted in sync. “I’m sorry.” He meant it.

[Y/N] pulled Art’s face to hers and kissed him hard. “I love… you.” She said.

[cheralith]

runaway prince!gojo satoru thoughts...

a/n: gojo is pretty ooc in this im ngl sorry, heavily unedited, no reader in this (just yet?), is this a prologue? who knows.

runaway prince!satoru who is the crown prince of a kingdom that rules over an abundance of smaller territories. the sovereign gojo kingdom has many lands under its power, under its safety, and they've been known to be the voice of the little guys, guarding them against the more brutish, stronger countries that target them.

runaway prince!satoru whose beauty was so remarkable since birth, his face was enough to cause controversy amongst other kingdoms for their childrens' line in marriage to him. who didn't imagine themselves being not only a part of the gojo kingdom, but a part of the gojo family, especially to be wedded to prince satoru gojo.

runaway prince!satoru whose beauty was so apparent, that those who witnessed him as a young child thought of him to be a child of venus herself. white locks made of freshly fallen snow with piercing azure eyes that shimmered with mischief of some kind, it was impossible to not think he wasn't blessed of some divination of beauty.

runaway prince!satoru whose beauty was enough to almost start two wars against two countries who yearned to be a part of the mighty gojo kingdom. the two rival monarchs nearly called declared war on each other after arguing whose child got to marry the young prince—for not only was it the power of the gojo kingdom they desired, but to have a ruler whose face could calm the seas and skies themselves was a feat that only came once every four hundred years within their kingdom.

runaway prince!satoru whose face began to be hidden behind an opaque veil due to the hysterics that erupted from even one glance a the prince's face. deciding ignorance was bliss, his parents began shielding his face at the tender age of twelve from the public and the castle staff to avoid conniption. his parents also decided it'd be best to shield him away from the outside world until they thought it was ready for him to be crowned king.

runaway prince!satoru whose rumors about him were not unnoticed by the prince as the years flew by. rumors about him being secluded from the public were for a good reason—and though they varied from person to person, all of the rumors revolved around one singular aspect.

runaway prince!satoru whose face was thought to be absolutely horrid, that the queen and kingdom thought best to shield its monstrosity from the outside world. whose face was rumored to be ghastly enough that it'd make ladies faint and babies cry. some say he had a large green boil on his nose that never popped, even though it looked like it was on the verge of doing so. some say all his teeth rotted from all the sugar he ate as a child, corroded and blackened. regardless of what the rumors said, rarely anyone thought the opposite of them. the king and queen took a likening to the rumors, thinking that they would gear away anyone who would pounce on their son for the sake of power.

runaway prince!satoru who saw the world through white lace more than half his life, who rarely ever saw the world outside of the palace gates, leapt at every opportunity to see the world for what it was outside his kingdom. so when a trip to a coastal town that threatened to be under siege from a rival kingdom emerged, his bags were already at the ready.

runaway prince!satoru who was used to being greeted by the waves and confused looks of the many people below his ship as it boarded the docks of the coastal village. careless of what they heard about them, his only concern was that he was able to breathe air that wasn't of his kingdom from the mainland. the fresh salted air rebirthed life again into him, and though he could admire the sea through the fence-like pattern of his veil, it was still a sight he took in with a full heart.

runaway prince!satoru who quietly admired the nightlife of the coastal village's people from the tower of the palazzo of the town's chancellor as his parents talked with him downstairs about obtaining the land under their rule for his peoples' safety. below, he watched as a mother tugged along her son from the display of toys in a window, laughing softly as he escaped from her grasp and pressed his face against the pane. a young waitress looked behind her to see if anyone was watching and sneaked outback to an alley and gave a homeless man a plate full of food. a suited man gingerly held an elderly woman by her shoulders and carefully helped her across a bustling street.

runaway prince!satoru who watched the lights of the lanterns flickering about and the soft music echoing in the nightfall with people dancing to the beat of them. a desire to be amongst them pulled at his heartstrings, and he imagined himself, not as the crown prince of the gojo kingdom, but as their fellow citizen, as their fellow neighbor, as their friend.

runaway prince!satoru who glowered at his reflection in the mirror of the guest room. the veil temporarily off and brushed to the side, he stared at his ivory locks and porcelain skin, the sky that held itself within his eyes. with an allure that most would kill to have, he gritted his teeth, cursing it to be the cause of his sheltering, his isolation.

runaway prince!satoru who caught the gaze of the fireplace in the reflection of the mirror, but noticed not the wispy embers of gold and yellow, but rather the pile of black ashes from the wood and kindling. walking slowly towards it and dipping his fingers, he stared at the onyx fingerprint on his fingertip and rubbed it between his other fingers, now stained as well black.

runaway prince!satoru who carefully reached up to a spare lock of his hair and rubbed the onyx powder on the ends of it, amazed how easily it coated the pallid white a darkened ebony. a flurry of apprehension and excitement stirred within him as he whipped his head to the window that faced the village's people and to the door leading to the inside of the chancellor's palazzo. satoru leapt to his feet and pressed his ear to his door, making sure no one was nearby before locking it and pushing a bookshelf up against it.

runaway prince!satoru who picked up a pile of ash between his hands and shuffled it between his hair, tainting it as dark as the night. embedding the ash fittingly between each strand of hair so that not a strike of white was seen, satoru gazed at his new appearance inside the mirror. the locks of pearl were long gone and replaced with familiar charcoal black that many citizens of his own kingdom adorned.

runaway prince!satoru who cleaned the spare sprinkles of ashes from his face with water from the bathroom and tore off his handmade clothes with symbols of regality, scurrying about the dressers of clothes and plucking out seemingly "ordinary" clothes to wear.

runaway prince!satoru who crawled over the ledge of his window, but not before looking back to the barricaded door and whispering "just this once..." before climbing down and taking off into the night.

a/n: i'm gonna be so fr, i really don't know what's to become of this in the future. obviously yes, reader will be a character in the story, but for now, i have yet to decide if i'll just follow this format or if i'll actually write a fully fledged story about this.

i've mentioned this prompt before, but this idea has been brewing in my mind for quite some time, possibly over a year and a half. it's heavily inspired by roman holiday (1953) with a dash of princess and the frog (2009) and i do think it has so much potential that i might just write about it properly! i feel as though it's too good of a prompt to not. stay tuned question mark? (i say that as though i'm not staying tune for myself as well augh!)

if you do manage to stay and watch me bullshit whatever i have in mind, there will be much more involvement of reader, trust! but thank you for reading regardless!

[creepswrites]

MASK OF HATE | Michael x Reader

a long awaited rewrite of my favorite fanfic i've written... i've come far since my first time writing it and i'm so so happy to be able to recreate my pride and joy!! if you want to see the original, here it is! but i'm thrilled to rewrite it and i hope you all like it :)

MICHAEL MYERS X FTM!READER (he/him)

SUMMARY: The jumpsuit he wore made you think that maybe there'd been an accident with a car or something? You weren't sure. It wasn't likely he'd gotten himself out this far with a wound that bad but you couldn't really think straight to work out logistics. A man was injured and he needed help and that's all you could focus on at the moment.

WARNING: graphic depictions of violence & injuries

NEXT

The smell of wet earth enveloped you as you made your way back home. The earlier afternoon rain had let up long enough for you to walk home from work, a long day spent at the farmers market and plant nursery. It was rewarding work and one of the few jobs you'd actually wanted to be hired at. Your family had moved here a few years ago and you'd fallen in love with the town instantly. You and your father lived on the edge of town, more in the woods than the city itself, but not too far that you had to go out of your way to go to work. Even after you graduated, you still hadn't moved out. Why would you? You helped pay rent, shopped for groceries, and could tend to your garden.

It was, as far as you were concerned, the perfect location. A lovely little house surrounded by trees and bushes of flowers, overgrown with vines, and a stepping stone path that led to the front door. The house itself was covered in a dark brick with the inside a beautiful white with dark wooden floors that smelt of books and fresh fruits and vegetables. And sometimes the smell of rain leaked in when you left the windows open.

So no, you had no intention of moving.

Today was one of those days where you'd get the house to yourself. As the current chief of police, your dad was known for working late nights and leaving you to your own devices for a few days. With Halloween coming up, the police were on edge. Rumors were circling in the station that Michael had escaped again but couldn't confirm yet. They were avoiding telling the public until they were sure.

You always enjoyed walking home more than you enjoyed driving. It gave you a chance to think while enjoying music in your headphones, hopping along to the beat. You were weighing your options for dinner in your mind as you got closer to home when you felt a sense of wrongness wash over you. When your song came to an end, you lowered your headphones to hang around your neck as you scanned the nearby area with scrutiny.

The smell of iron reached you in a soft breeze that brushed your clothes and skin. Coyotes weren't unheard of but you didn't exactly have a way to defend yourself if they got any closer. Not to mention there was the chance your cat had gotten out.

You picked up the pace, grimacing when the smell grew stronger and stronger. Had your head not been on a swivel, you would have missed the way the bushes shook. You froze, swallowing hard as a man stumbled out of the treeline and onto the paved street towards you. He was tall, dressed in a dark blue jumpsuit and a white Halloween mask that rang a bell in the dark recesses of your mind. But you were too prioritized by the gunshot wound in his side that bled copiously, staining the jumpsuit in dark blotches.

"Are you okay?" You gasped, watching the man stumble for balance. He just made a grunting sound so you rushed forward to catch him by the shoulders. "Oh fuck, okay, uh, I might have a first aid kit at home. It's not far, c'mon." You said, trying not to panic. God knows how this dude was even standing with how much blood he'd already lost. But you slung his arm around your shoulders to practically drag him along. He was silent, which unsettled you slightly, but you didn't have the time to be unsettled. This man was possibly dying and that was far more important to you.

Did you need to talk to him to keep him awake? You were worried that if he did collapse on you, you wouldn't be able to move him. "How'd you even get an injury like that?" You tried, jostling him a little. The size difference was glaringly apparent like this but you did your best to move him. "You're lucky I live near here. Don't want to imagine you bleeding to death out here in the woods alone."

The jumpsuit he wore made you think that maybe there'd been an accident with a car or something? You weren't sure. It wasn't likely he'd gotten himself out this far with a wound that bad but you couldn't really think straight to work out logistics. A man was injured and he needed help and that's all you could focus on at the moment.

The walk home felt like hours but you finally pulled him up to the back door, kicked the rickety old screen door open with your foot, and practically dropped the man on the floor against the counters. No way were you carrying him up the stairs, especially not when he could track blood all over the carpet. You threw your bags aside and ran upstairs to the bathroom, hurrying past your cat Mayhem who cried in hunger. "Later." You said quietly as you began rifling through the cabinet under the sink. "I should clean this out later."

First aid kit in hand, you tore down the stairs again and came to a stop in the awning of the kitchen. The man was slumped over where you'd left him and you took the brief moment to get a better look at him. Dirty, brown work boots that were covered in grass stains and wet mud had left a small trail of dirt alongside the blood drops. The jumpsuit was mostly clean except for what looked like oil stains and the blood on his side. As you approached him, you noticed blood staining his sleeves in streaks too. Odd. You made a mental note to check his arms when you were done.

You knelt down in front of him, close enough that you could hear his frantic breathing. Like he was attempting to stay awake. "Can you tell me what happened?" You asked softly, clicking open the first aid kit and reaching for the zipper of his jumpsuit. When he flinched away, you froze. "I'll need to unzip you in order to take care of your wound."

He stared at you. Or you assumed he did. The black voids of the eyeholes left much to be desired.

"Just give me a nod." You sighed.

A moment passed but he finally nodded. A small little motion that you would've missed if you hadn't been looking. You gave him a little smile and unzipped the jumpsuit to his waist, careful to avoid brushing against the wound as much as possible. The black tank top underneath had ridden up slightly which made your cheeks warm. Stuffing that down, you helped him carefully shrug his sleeves down so you could better see the damage.

It was hard to see what had happened with how much blood covered his skin. So you reached into the kit, using one of the little sanitizing wipes on your hands before grabbing the disposable gloves. "Okay, uh, I'm not exactly a doctor so just let me know if the pain is too much, okay?" You gave him a nervous smile before hiking the tank top up more around his chest to let you wipe down the skin with a clean wet wipe.

The amount of blood was almost ridiculous. But you were eventually able to make out what was undeniably a gunshot wound. "Who the hell shot at you?" You mumbled more to yourself than to him. But he still gave you a tilt of his head as though answering. "At least the bullet went all the way through," You sighed, looking between him and your supplies as you tried to figure out what to do. "Okay. Let's… see what I can do."

You didn't know anything about gunshot wounds, much less how to clean them. But you'd helped patch your dad up when he stuck himself with a fishing hook so you figured it couldn't be that much more difficult. Anything was better than letting it get infected. "Sorry," you said softly before giving his hand a squeeze, "This is gonna suck."

And you poured the hydrogen peroxide on both ends of the wound, wincing at the pained grunt he let out. You kept apologizing as you fumbled around for the needle and thread, also dousing that in the peroxide before you tried to stitch him up. Sewing had never been a skill of yours but it was the best you could offer him. At least until you could get him to a hospital. You pressed gauze at either end of the wound before wrapping him tightly in bandages. "I think the wound is supposed to drain? I think I remember hearing stuff about that. We'll have to keep an eye on it to make sure it doesn't get infected." You tried to give him a reassuring smile and sat back to view your handiwork. It was probably sloppy, yeah, but at least it was cleaned and covered.

It could've been much worse.

"Can you pass me one of the wipes?" You asked, holding up your bloodstained hands and giving him a toothy grin. "I don't wanna stain everything with blood."

He offered you a blank stare before reaching slowly into the kit and handing you one of the little packages. You tore it open and got to scrubbing. "I'd give you a sucker for being a good patient if I had any. Would you take dinner and a shower instead?" You scooted back to clean up more, letting him stand on shaking legs. "My dad shouldn't be back till late. But he should be able to drive you to a hospital once I explain-"

At that, he shook his head violently no. "No, what?" You paused, brow furrowing. "No hospital?" He gave you a nod. "I'm not exactly a doctor. Your injury probably needs more than my below average sewing skills and half a bottle of peroxide." But still, he shook his head. "Fine. Okay. No hospital." You sighed loudly, giving him a quick once-over. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

He tried to pull away but you finally saw it: a spot on his opposite shoulder where he'd been just grazed by a bullet. More a flesh wound than anything, but you'd missed it in your stitching him up. "Alright, c'mere mister," your tone was light as you raided the kit for more gauze and bandages. "Got anything else you're hiding from me?" You gave him a playful smile as you wrapped and cleaned his wound. "It doesn't look too bad. I'm way more worried about the gunshot wound." You trailed off. "I wasn't kidding about dinner and a shower though. My dad's got clothes I bet could fit you. Though the pants may be a bit short." He gave you a calculating look as you shrugged. "At least until I get your jumpsuit washed."

The two of you just stared at each other for a while. His head tilted slowly in confusion and you couldn't help but snort. "What, you think I'll just patch you up and throw you out? Not a chance. C'mon," you took his hand and led him towards the stairs. Mayhem had ventured downstairs and began to sniff you both over, hissing at your guest despite your soft scolding.

Once inside the bathroom, you tossed the first aid kit back in as the man took a look around the small space. White tiled floors and faint, floral wallpaper framed a huge mirror, spanning the distance of the smooth countertops. You pride yourself on keeping the bathroom clean, so you only winced slightly at the dirt on the work boots that left a small trail of dirt behind. "I'll get you some clothes if you want to get undressed. I don't mind washing your clothes for you." You gave him a smile, sidestepping him to slip back out into the hall. "A shower might help you feel better. Just try to avoid getting your bandages too wet."

You left him in the bathroom and slipped down the hallway to your dad's room. A rifling through his dresser earned you some plain sweatpants and an old, black shirt you knew he wouldn't miss. Worst case scenario, your guest bled all over the shirt and you'd have to throw it out.

Heading back towards the bathroom, a realization came to you. "Hey, I'm sorry, I don't think I introduced mys-" You froze in the doorway, words dying on your lips. The man had his back to you and had shrugged the jumpsuit off the rest of the way, his boots laying near the doorway by your feet and the blue material like a puddle around his ankles. His shoulders were broad and you could make out tiny scars that littered his forearms and shoulders. His mask had remained but that wasn't what surprised you.

He didn't have underwear on.

Your face felt like it was on fire as you slammed fresh clothes down on the counter, pointedly not looking at him. "Alright, here's your clothes, bye!" It felt like your words slurred together as you slammed the door behind you, leaning against it with an embarrassed sigh.

Once you heard the water turn on, you went downstairs to clean up the kitchen floor, grateful the blood hadn't dried too much yet.

Mayhem, having decided you'd spent long enough fussing over your guest, began to complain and shout for his dinner. "Alright, you needy thing, c'mere." You scooped him up and pressed a kiss to his fuzzy head. "Let's get you fed and then see about feeding our guest, yeah?"

Mayhem meowed, as though enthused only about the coming tuna.

The man took his time showering but you didn't really mind. He certainly needed it. Plus, you could empathize there - showers always made you feel much better too. In the meantime, you'd snuck back upstairs to grab his clothes and toss them into the washing machine. When you'd gotten a good look at his clothes, you recognized the auto mechanic company logo on the jumpsuit. "L. Smith?" You'd wondered aloud, frowning to yourself. "Pretty sure I'd tutored his kids when I was a junior…" But he didn't look anything like Lawrence Smith. "Maybe it's just a common name," you had mumbled. Something about this whole situation felt off but you couldn't exactly place why.

You shook your head slightly and sighed, trying to dismiss a nagging feeling you had in the back of your mind. Sparing a glance down at Mayhem, who brushed against your leg insistently, you frowned. "You don't think this is Michael Myers, right?"

Big yellow eyes blinked up at you and you sighed, chewing on your lower lip. Not much about the Myers case was made public beyond his crimes and his mugshot. Your dad had refused to divulge anything to you about the case and you'd only managed a quick peek at crime scene photos. Nothing about the way the man had been dressed or anything like that. Besides, it had been so long since that night that any details you could have seen have been lost to time.

"Impossible." You decided with a shaking sigh as you opened the can of tuna, not even believing your own words despite their conviction. "There's simply no way."

The sound of thunder outside was a welcome distraction from your thoughts. The rain had always been peaceful to you, the smell of wet earth and the chill breeze from the window had you relaxing. You smiled, whistling for Mayhem to come get his dinner and slipped past your hungry cat into the kitchen once again.

Cutting the vegetables and boiling pasta was peaceful, a wonderfully monotonous task you could just get lost in with the soft white noise of the rain. You would have missed the sounds of the shower turning off if you'd been any more zoned out. You had just taken the tomatoes out to cut them up when you heard heavy footsteps behind you.

You glanced over your shoulder and took him in. The sweatpants had stopped just above his ankles, which you had expected. What you hadn't expected was the way his broad chest filled out the shirt, struggling to hug around his biceps. You turned back around to hide your swooning, biting your lip hard to keep yourself from smiling like a fool. He'd put the mask back on but you couldn't even bother to give it a thought.

Swallowing, you cleared your throat. "Are the bandages alright?" You asked, turning your attention back to the tomatoes. He didn't say anything but, then again, you hadn't really expected him to. "Pasta's boiling right now so dinner should be ready in a few minutes if you want to sit down." You gestured to the nearby dining room table with only a few chairs pulled up. But you didn't hear him move. The feeling of eyes on the back of your neck made you tense for a moment but you brushed it off. If he needed something, he'd let you know, right?

As you reached for a knife, his hand shot out and covered yours. You weren't even aware he'd gotten that close and you jumped in surprise. The eyeholes of the mask bore into you as you turned to look at him once again. "Do you… want to help?"

He just tilted his head, as though bewildered by your offer.

You move your hand aside to let him grab the knife, stepping to the side to give him room at the cutting board. "You just have to make them into small chunks. Try and get them around the same size, I'll get the garlic going." You hummed, your fingertips barely grazing the extra knife before he grabbed your wrist tight, jerking your hand back. A surprised yelp left you as you stared wide-eyed up at him, noticing the way he white knuckled his own knife.

Something about this was very wrong.

Swallowing back your terror, you held eye contact with him, the two of you locked in a standstill. The room was silent except for his heavy breathing, barely audible over the pounding storm outside. Soft bluish grey light cast shadows on his face, making the eyes of the mask seem like bottomless pits. Everything felt frozen in time as the two of you stared at each other.

You were the one who broke the tension, reaching over with your free hand to uncurl his fingers from your wrist as casually as you could. Anxiety pounded through you when you heard his breathing hitch. "Don't worry," you gave him a weak smile once you were freed, "I have every confidence in you." You said, giving a weak gesture to the tomatoes laying on the cutting board. You slowly moved towards the stove to set about roasting the garlic cloves, trying to appear as calm as possible while he continued to stare you down.

You only let your shoulders drop when you heard him start slicing.

Making the rest of dinner didn't take long, especially with your guest's help. He seemed unwilling to leave you alone now, hovering around you as you finished cooking and plating dinner - pasta with garlic sauce and dried tomatoes - and only retreated to the living room when you'd reassured that you were right behind him. He took a seat on the couch and you caught him staring at Mayhem comfortably sprawled out on his favorite chair.

"His name is Mayhem," you told him as you sat beside him, setting two water glasses down before digging in. "He won't bug you, he knows he's not allowed on the couch."

The man's head turned slowly to look at you, letting you get a brief sight of one of his eyes: a blue-green color that looked almost hazel in the darkness of the mask. You held in a soft gasp and turned away, trying to push the idea that the man was pretty from your mind. You hadn't even seen his face for crying out loud! Much less gotten his name.

Instead, you just clicked the television on. "Anything in particular you wanna see?" You asked around a mouthful of food. "We've got movies too but I dunno if you like horror." You hummed, setting your plate down briefly to shuffle over to the drawers in the tv stand, leafing through VHS tapes. "It's almost Halloween though," you smirked, "But, judging by your mask, you knew that."

His eyes were boring holes into you again but you just chuckled to yourself. While you pride yourself on being good at reading body language, his ramrod straight posture and silent staring was like gazing at a white canvas. But maybe that's one of the reasons you liked him so much: he wasn't complicated to understand, when he needed to be heard.

You pulled out a particular VHS and flashed it to him. "Do you like cartoons?" You asked, dangling 'It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown' for him to see.

He nodded then - so clear and obvious that you didn't waste any time popping the tape in and sitting back down alongside him. You kept your eyes glued to the screen as you ate, hoping that would be enough privacy for him to comfortably eat. He'd have to give you his name later, at the very least, but you felt the urge to give him some semblance of privacy as he ate. So you kept your eyes off him and the two of you ate in amicable silence, both your attentions rapt on the little cartoon. He ate like he was starving for it and practically chugged the glass of water when he was done, which made your heart hurt a little.

How long had this guy gone without eating or drinking anything?

"There's more in the pot if you want. Help yourself." You said softly, bumping his knee gently with yours to get his attention. He'd tensed up slightly at the contact and you momentarily scolded yourself for that. He was clearly not good with touch, but it had just felt natural to do for him.

But he didn't seem to hold it against you and just stood up, retreating into the kitchen with his plate. You watched him with a slight smile on your face. He was, no doubt, intriguing. His mysteries had you utterly fascinated and there was so much you wanted to ask. But a part of you feared the answers, paranoid your suspicions would be proven correct.

He would have killed you if that were the case, right?

The two of you continued watching movies once you'd learnt he hadn't, in fact, seen most horror films. "Well obviously I'm going to show you 'The Thing,'" you'd said as Charlie Brown came to an end. "It's one of my favorites, I think you'll like it." His staring didn't bother you anymore so you took his silence as agreement when the movie began playing. The night continued like that, the two of you watching movies together. Horror films seemed to intrigue him and you swore he jumped a little at some of the visceral body horror moments. But the two of you had cozied up just a little. He'd finally sunken back into the couch and had tolerated you scooting closer to him.

You were halfway through Frankenstein when you heard the phone ring in the kitchen. "Be right back," you whispered to him, feeling his eyes on you as you walked away. A quick glance at the clock revealed it was nearly midnight and you frowned. Your dad should've been home by now and your guest didn't seem in any hurry to go home. Didn't he have somewhere to go?

Regardless, you stepped into the kitchen on socked feet and plucked the phone off the receiver. "Hello?

"Kiddo? Oh thank god you're alright!" Your dads voice sounded monetarily relieved, letting out a sigh as he spoke. "You should've called me after you saw the news." He said, once again becoming frantic. "Lock all the doors, keep Mayhem inside tonight, and-"

"Calm down," you cut him off, "What's going on? I haven't even seen the news, I've been watching movies with-"

Your dad wasted no time cutting you off as well. "Just stay inside, okay? Keep your eyes on the news and just- just stay safe. My pistol is in my room in the bedside table if you need it."

A sinking dread began to settle in the pit of your stomach as you twirled the phone cord. "Just tell me what's going on!" You became equally frantic, running your hand through your hair in frustration.

He was silent for a moment before sighing. "Look, I'm not supposed to tell you. This is strictly police business. But the last thing I want is you digging into this yourself-"

"That was one time-!" You protested.

But he ignored you. "There's a killer on the loose." His words were like a gunshot to your chest. "We nearly caught him this afternoon but he managed to escape. We're- we're not sure where he'd gotten off to so I want you to stay inside and call me if you hear or- or see anything strange."

A lapse of silence passed and you can tell your dad was about to hang up but you quickly squeaked out. "What's his name?"

"I'm not supposed to tell you." His voice had a finality to it. He didn't plan on telling you.

You knew how to play him though. You faked a sniffle and a sob. "Dad, please, I- I need to know what I'm up against! W-what if he gets inside?"

Despite his voice being barely a whisper, it was deafening to you. "Michael Myers."

Instantly, you sobered up. Your fears were confirmed and you felt your blood run cold. Michael Myers was sitting in your living room in your dads clothes after you'd had dinner together. He'd been fascinated by Charlie Brown and had jumped a little at the chest defibrillation scene in The Thing. The Boogeyman of Haddonfield had helped you cut tomatoes and let you tend to his wounds.

You were still alive. As terrifying as this revelation was, you were curious why he hadn't killed you. You didn't know Michael Myers to be very forgiving or benevolent…

Wrapping up the call with your dad, you practically slammed the phone back into the receiver, your back still to the living room. You steadied your resolve and forced your hands to still when you turned back around. You nearly slammed into him when you did. He'd been eavesdropping and the idea that his mercifulness would end made you talk before he could move. "Seems we're locked in tonight." You managed a smile and a shrug. "Dad says it's too dangerous to go out tonight so at least it'll just be us two. If you want, I can set you up on the couch to sleep when you're ready."

He continued to stare at you and you swore he almost seemed…surprised.

You sidestepped him to head back into the living room and he let you, though he was hot on your heels. "Means you and I get more movie time though." Grinning up at him, you sat back down with a soft "oomf" and looked up at him expectantly. If you just acted like everything was fine, maybe he wouldn't kill you?

It seemed as good an idea as any.

Eventually he rejoined you on the couch after staring at you for a few good minutes.

You knew. And you had a feeling he knew that you knew. But what could you even do? It wasn't like you stood a chance against him if he decided to attack you. In fact, a part of you felt almost guilty for withholding your newfound information from him. He was literally a serial killer and you didn't want to make him think you were against him.

Which bewildered you. Why would you feel bad? You knew, logically, you should call your dad back and tell him Michael was here and let him and the rest of the force come try and catch Michael before he ran you through with a knife.

He'd extended trust to you though. You recognized that. You didn't want to betray that, especially since you didn't know who the last person he trusted could have been.

As the movie came to an end, you decided to take a risk. "Want me to make popcorn, Michael?" You kept your tone light and casual as you stood and stretched.

You didn't even get two steps in before he was up, grabbing your wrist tight and spinning you to face him. You kept your smile light and tilted your head the way he liked doing. "I think I have M&Ms if you want me to mix those in too." He continued to stare and you finally sighed. "I already knew. I, uh, had my suspicions before we made dinner. But dad called and confirmed it, basically." His grip tightened but you brushed it off. "I'm not going to tell anyone." You finally admitted.

His posture remained rigid, like he expected a fight. You felt your heart break a little. Has he ever had anyone be kind to him ever since that night? "Do you know about doctor-patient confidentiality?" His blank stare was an answer in itself. "When a doctor treats a patient, that patient has the right to keep their information private. Including their name." You placed your free hand atop his in what you hoped was a comforting gesture. "So, since you're technically my patient, I don't have to tell anyone anything." He still seemed confused and you just let out a soft sigh. "I'm not gonna rat on you, is what I'm saying."

He seemed to consider this before giving you a slow nod.

A part of you was relieved. A fair trade, you thought as you went into the kitchen to make popcorn. You patched him up and fed him and, in exchange, he didn't kill you.

The two of you wound up watching movies late into the night, with you adding soft commentary as you munched on popcorn and M&Ms. By 2AM you were fading, your head lolling to the side and bumping against Michael's shoulder in your attempts to fight off sleep. He was warm and, despite knowing who he was, you felt safe.

So you'd nodded off.

The next time you opened your eyes, you were being shaken awake by your father. "Get up," he whisper-yelled as he turned off the tv, a quick flash of the movie menu disappearing as soon as you saw it. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

You hummed, yawning and rubbing your eyes. "Early." A glance at the clock confirmed it was nearly 6AM. "Sorry, guess I was up watchin' movies." You sat up and looked around a little before your sleep-addled brain immediately recalled that Michael Myers had been sitting on your couch last night and you looked around.

As your dad herded you upstairs and past the kitchen, you noticed Michael's boots were gone. The dishes had been left atop the table but yours had been placed in the sink as though to hide the fact there had been two people here. Once of the knives from the block was missing too, but that didn't surprise you.

If your dad's weary expression was anything to go by, Michael had escaped before he'd gotten home. "'m headin' to bed," he grumbled, "You should too." He said before shuffling into his bedroom, closing the door with more force than intended. You nodded to empty air before retreating into your bedroom, noticing Mayhem lazily dozing on top of your messy bedsheets.

Your bedroom was dim and cool, the morning light just starting to shift the pitch black sky into a dark tealish blue color. Raindrops still covered the window, indicative of the storm that must be still going. You frowned and went to close your curtains to avoid being blinded by the sun once it rose but you paused just before you could yank the fabric closed.

There, across the street, only visible thanks to the streetlight he stood under, you could see Michael Myers staring up at you.

Dumbfounded, you smiled and gave him a little wave, swaying on your feet as you tried not to swoon. You wanted to believe he wouldn't hurt you, seeing as he had ample opportunity to do so and had instead laid you gently down on the couch to sleep when he'd decided to leave. But the realistic part of your brain reminded you, as you closed your blackout curtains, that it should be more concerning that you'd become a fixation of his.

You'd heard of Laurie Strode and how she was assumedly his previous fixation, seeing as he'd stalked her for a while before deciding to take action against her friends. She'd been terrified of him for years and continued to lock herself in her house for the past two years to protect herself against him. Despite her fear of him, she'd yet to move out of Haddonfield.

There wasn't any point in trying to figure her out though. She was of no help to you. You couldn't tell anyone about what was going on or risk yourself or Michael.

You were far too tired to think about any of that for now and just flopped down into bed, freezing when your hands brushed an unfamiliar texture. After scrambling around under your stomach, you held up Michael's tank top. He must have left it for you when he'd gone to change into his jumpsuit. You felt your face heat up at the implications of him leaving his shirt for you, opting instead to shove it under your pillow with your cheeks burning.

The memories of him in the tshirt filled your head as you fell back asleep.

Crunching dry, brittle leaves beneath your boots, you made your way into town for work. You always liked the walk, especially with how beautiful Haddonfield got in the fall. A gorgeous watercolor painting of oranges, browns, and reds, touches of yellow and green giving pops of color. Despite the tragedies that had happened two years ago, Halloween decorations were still up in full swing, the town determined to celebrate no matter what. There was even a small festival at the farm nearby, complete with haunted houses, hayrides, and pumpkin patches. Halloween spirit was everywhere and you loved it. It'd always been your favorite holiday, even before a certain man fell into your life.

As you approached the plant nursery you worked at, you mulled that over. The police hadn't caught Michael yet but were working round the clock. And although you hadn't seen him in person since he'd stayed over a few days ago, you'd seen glimpses of him. Enough to know he was definitely stalking you. While you should logically feel afraid, you instead felt… oddly comforted.

You stopped beating yourself up over why. You knew why. Michael Myers was the most dangerous person alive and he was looking out for you, in a way. You felt safe with him watching you. So you played the game and pretended not to see him. It was easier to play along anyways and, as far as you knew, he hadn't killed anyone since he found you. No one your dad talked about at least.

So you'd been spending more time in town or out in the woods, hoping that entertaining him would keep him from killing. At least, you hoped so.

It didn't help that you still found yourself fascinated by him.

You'd stopped beating yourself up for that too. Most people you knew were predictable, bland, or boring. They had routines and patterns that were easy to predict. But Michael wasn't like that. You never knew what he was thinking or how he'd behave. He was interesting, unique, and unpredictable.

You liked that. Maybe that was sick or twisted of you, but it was true.

"Helloooo?" Your co-worker's soft voice pulls you from your thoughts. "Did those blackberries do something to you?" Kalei snorted, nudging you gently. "You've been staring at them for, like, ten minutes now."

You responded with a yawn, rubbing your eyes. Despite having only been at work for a few hours, you were ready for it to be over. "Sorry, jus' haven't been sleepin' well." You slurred as you tried to give her a smile.

"Bad dreams?" Kalei asked, frowning slightly as she set her own blackberry plant aside. Working at the plant nursery had been your idea, more interested in working with plants than people. But Kalei was a good friend and always looked out for you. It was nice to have company while taking care of the plants.

You chewed on your fingernail and gave her a little shrug. "Just been… thinking about a guy, I guess."

They let out a shocked gasp. "A GUY?!" Kalei squealed, ignoring your desperate attempts to shush them. "Tell me everything RIGHT NOW, oh my god!" 

You blushed, trying to get them to quiet down, flustered at the idea of Michael listening in. "It's not anything serious! Just, um, met this guy and he's… interesting. I like him." You blushed at the childishness of your own words, focusing on your plants to avoid meeting Kalei's eyes.

They gave you a nod. "Well, as your workplace bestie, I am obligated to give him The Talk."

You chose to not mention the fact there were only five total employees counting you both. "Kay, it's Illinois. I doubt he'd be interested in me, available or not." Which wasn't untrue. Even if Michael was interested in you, it likely wasn't anything beyond obsession. At least the obsession went both ways, you thought to yourself with a private smile.

"Well, regardless, I have a duty to fulfill." They beamed at you, hands on their hips. "You're a cute guy and, if I didn't have a partner, I'd take you out sometime." They ignored your snort and continued. "If this guy screws you over, I'll kick his ass for you."

If only they knew, you chuckled to yourself as you left Kalei to attend to a customer. Michael wasn't exactly great "bring-home-to-the-parents" boyfriend material. Much less introduce to your co-worker. When you'd finished helping the customer, you froze at the sight of movement in the tree line across the road. Standing in the tall grass and brush, you swore you saw Michael standing there…

As far as you were aware, he stayed close by to watch as you finished your shift. You hoped that as long as he was watching you, he wasn't out killing someone. Hopefully. For all you knew, he could be supernatural.

But you'd let him watch you. The whole rest of your shift, the walk home, and as you got in the car to go shopping. While you usually got vegetables and fruits from the plants at your work, you still needed to get normal groceries at the store. So you parked around back to be a little more secluded and went inside.

It was a cute little supermarket, clean linoleum floors and shelves lined with food. You didn't need much but you definitely needed to refill your medkit and find a proper first aid book, just in case. Thankfully, it was relatively empty that day, meaning you had free reign of the aisles to explore and take your time shopping.

You knew Michael wouldn't come in the store but you didn't doubt he was waiting for you outside.

So when you finished loading your grocery bags into the trunk of your car, you didn't feel surprised when you heard footsteps approaching you. Michael was definitely taking a risk being out with you in public but you hadn't exactly spoken to him in a few days and you were itching for the chance.

Turning around, however, you were met face to face with an unfamiliar black ski mask. Definitely not Michael. The stranger grabbed you by the arm before pulling out a knife, his head on a swivel. "G-gimme all your cash! Now!" He hissed, jerking you aggressively.

"I don't have anything on me." You said calmly. Your dad had always prepared you for situations like this so you didn't worry too much, even with the glint of his knife in the corner of your eye.

"D-don't bullshit me! I know you j-just got outta there. G-gimme what you've got and I'll b-be on my way!" He spat at you, pulling you closer to press the knife against your neck.

You caught the faintest of movement in the shadows of the alleyway behind him but you kept your eyes on him to prevent the guy freaking out. "Okay. Let's just calm down," you said, keeping your movements slow as you reached for your hip, pretending to go for your wallet. The guy kept looking around frantically as though expecting something to jump out at him. Police, most likely. But when you saw the white face of a familiar mask over his shoulder, you felt a sense of calm settle over you.

"C-c'mon!" He hurried you, jerking the knife again to threaten slicing your throat.

At that moment, you jerked back as hot blood splashed across your face. Michael had effortlessly slashed the guy's neck open from behind, bright red falling like rain against the concrete below. You closed your eyes as the choked gurgles of the mugger's voice faded to silence and his body hit the ground. It was like you were frozen in place, unable to make your muscles move as you listened to the sounds of Michael killing the man. The vicious stabbing sounds made your skin crawl and you turned away from the scene entirely to check yourself over.

You hadn't gotten blood anywhere besides on your face, which was good. Easier to clean.

This was inevitable, you reminded yourself. That man wanted to hurt you and Michael was doing you a favor. Still, you tried to steady your breathing, bracing on the trunk of your car as he dragged the body away, presumably to hide it.

You heard Michael start to approach you and you let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding. His footsteps could be silent, almost supernaturally quiet, so if he was making an effort to be loud, you knew it was his attempt to make you feel better. To let you know he was coming.

He stood in front of you now, covered in fresh blood and gripping his knife tightly. You were thankful for the setting sun that cast dark shadows over you two, obscuring the bloodsoaked Michael from view on the streets. You noticed the body slumped against the wall a little ways away and you swallowed back bile. "T-thanks." Your voice was soft and you cleared your throat. "For saving me."

It was only an assumption that he'd killed that guy to protect you. He didn't have to. He could have just let you die or at least be robbed. You were confident in that assumption though. He wouldn't risk your game ending so soon. 

On some level, he wanted you alive.

The blood on your face was beginning to dry uncomfortably and you desperately wanted to go home. You gestured to your car and gave Michael a tilt of your head. "You coming?" He seemed to weigh his options in his head before casually making his way for the passenger seat after a brief deliberation. "What's the plan if we're caught?" You asked him with a raised eyebrow and climbed into your own seat.

Turns out, once the cops got wind of the body, they were very easy to avoid. Predictable, you thought as you gripped your steering wheel tighter, careful to not draw attention to your car as you drove through the windy roads that led to your house.

You got Michael inside, shoving the grocery bags onto the kitchen counter as Mayhem came around the corner, meowing for attention and approaching Michael to give him a curious sniff.

It was then that you remembered stories your father would tell you about how Michael would kill animals for fun as a boy. How he'd leave the dead bodies of cats and birds in his locker at school to terrify the other kids. You weren't sure how truthful the stories were but you felt a heavy pit of anxiety when Michael looked down to acknowledge Mayhem.

"If you hurt Mayhem, I will turn you in." Your voice was steady despite the way you trembled. His head snapped up to look at you and you could feel the glare behind it. "I mean it. T-this is one thing I'm not bending on. He's my kitty and I won't let you hurt him."

Michael was still for a moment, letting Mayhem rub against his boots and yowl as though expecting the man to feed him. Slowly, ever so slowly, he bent over and let his fingers brush against soft black fur. The motion was gentle, like either you or the cat would lash out should he make a mistake. Mayhem loved the attention, purring and rubbing against his fingers more, which made you smile.

He was usually an anxious cat so seeing him this comfortable with Michael made you smile. You set about making up Mayhem's dinner while Michael tried to navigate petting him. He was shockingly gentle despite clearly never having pet an animal. "Did you have pets as a kid?" You asked as you scraped food into the bowl.

He didn't answer but you didn't really expect him to. His hand was still, just letting Mayhem rub all over it and meow at him. It was endearing, you thought as you set the bowl down and let Mayhem go to town on it. Michael's head tilted curiously as he watched and gently stroked his back once before standing back up.

"I think he likes you," you giggled, scritching the cat behind the ear.

Michael just watched the cat before slowly standing back up and heading back into the living room. You followed him, tugging on his sleeve gently. "Want me to wash your clothes?"

Your words trailed off when you noticed Michael was looking at a photo of you with your dad at your graduation party. A tired sigh left you when the man tilted his head. "I don't… want to talk about that." You mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest. "It's not like it's easy to plan for your own dad's murder." The words were heavy in your mouth and you forced yourself to look away from the photo.

Ever since your mom had died, you knew your dad had been different. She'd died in childbirth with you and all your dad's friends would whisper about how that changed him drastically. He'd always been distant with you, especially as you'd grown up. When you'd hear stories about him before your mom died, he sounded like an entirely different man: happy, enthusiastic about life, and excited to be a father.

But then your mom died and he retreated inward. As though the whole thing was entirely your fault. He didn't want to parent you on his own and therefore you had to grow up taking care of yourself instead. 

"Whatever you have to do," you swallowed, turning away from Michael entirely and your voice hollow, "Just make it as painless as you can."

It wasn't like there was an easy way to ask him to kill your dad painlessly. You tried not to dwell on how easy it would be to let him go. It wasn't exactly like he'd ever been there for you anyways.

"So. Your clothes. I, um, still have your shirt and the sweats you borrowed are clean, if you want to change." You changed the topic quickly, ignoring the way he stared at you. The last thing you possibly wanted was pity from the Boogeyman. "Either way, I'm going to go wash my face before someone sees me."

You went upstairs to the bathroom, leaving Michael to his own devices downstairs. You opened drawers at random until you found the wet wipes you kept stashed for when you wore makeup. Some good hard scrubbing and scented lotion and it's like you were never there, all evidence flushed down the toilet and out of sight. You sighed, staring at yourself in the mirror as the events of the day hit you, leaving you feeling winded and exhausted all at once. You were complacent in a crime now. It wasn't just you hiding Michael from the cops, you'd let him kill a man in front of you.

Trying to argue with yourself that it was self defense was pointless. No use in lying to yourself.

When you opened your eyes, unsure of when you'd closed them, you met Michael's eyes where he stood in the doorway of the bathroom. "Oh, sorry, do you want to shower?" Before you could even move to leave, he unzipped the jumpsuit, leaving you speechless.

You gasped in horror at the state of his chest. The black shirt was gone and left his bandages on display, dirty and stained with reddish-brown blood that mixed with ugly yellow pus from the drainage of the wound. It reeked of infection even a few feet from him. "Michael!" You hurried to him to get a better look, feeling sick for the second time today. "Christ, you should have come to me before it got this bad! With how wet it's been… Take these off and sit down on the edge of the tub. God, this looks awful."

Michael sat, watching you with amusement. At least you assumed it was amusement. Though you couldn't find anything funny about this. "I should have stitched you," you mumbled as you reached for your first aid kit and began sterilizing a pair of scissors, "Or at least looked up what to do."

Swallowing back your squeamishness, you cut him free of the bandages, practically retching when you got a better look at his wound. It had somehow gotten worse, a painful red and oozing pus. "Oh my god, Michael." Your voice was barely a whisper. "I'm so sorry."

He tilted his head and you almost wanted to smack him. How he wasn't in any noticeable pain was bewildering to you.

You began to undress him, uncaring of any potential nakedness, and he grabbed your wrists tight when you reached forward to take off his mask. "Michael, this infection could kill you. I need to see if you're running a fever. So either let me touch your forehead or I'm touching your neck." 

He stood quickly, stumbling slightly as he grabbed the bloodstained knife from where he'd apparently set it down on the counter. But you didn't back down. "Be mad all you want, this is really fucking infected and I'm not letting you get worse." You sighed, racking your brain to come up with an idea to placate him. "If I close my eyes, will you let me take your temperature?" 

Slowly, his shoulders fell. Which confused you. You'd seen his mugshots, you knew he wasn't disfigured or anything like that. So his insistence at not being looked at confused you but now was not the time to be worrying about that.

Prettiness aside, you needed to help him.

So you shut your eyes and held out your hand. A minute passed without Michael moving and you briefly worried he'd left the room entirely. Before you could open your eyes, you felt his fingers encircle your wrist and press it to his neck. You felt him swallow and you tried your best to focus on how hot his skin felt and not how this was an incredible show of trust. Goosebumps erupted across your arms as you cupped his neck gently.

His skin was soft and feverish and you felt your heart clench.

"You're definitely running a fever," you sighed. "I'll look for a sewing kit or something to stitch you up but I want you to shower and get all that gross off first. Don't scrub too hard, okay?" Before you could retract your hand, his grip on your wrist tightened. "Are you-?"

He lifted your hand, letting your fingers graze his bare cheek. You felt Michael lean into the touch momentarily and you reacted quickly, holding his face gently. He was burning up so hot you weren't sure how he was even standing in this condition. When was the last time anyone had taken care of him? Or the last time he was even sick?

Judging by his height, he was likely slumped against the bathroom counter. The idea made your heart clench. Despite every instinct in your body telling you to pull away, you ran your hand up the side of his face in a gentle, soothing motion. Your fingers ran through tangled hair, soft and curly, before sliding down behind his ear to rest back on his neck. "You'll be okay," you said softly. "The fever will break and you'll be back on your feet in no time."

Having had enough of being touched, he took you by the shoulders and moved you aside, careful to not let you stumble and fall. You kept your eyes closed when you heard the shower turn on and the curtain shift as he stepped inside. Only then did you open your eyes.

What... was that?

You looked down at your hand like it offended you before shaking your head in bewilderment. He'd never fail to surprise you.

You figured out pretty quickly that that instance of seeking your touch was the extent that Michael wanted you to touch him. He barely tolerated you checking him over for fever symptoms, opting instead to lounge in your bed like he'd been exorcised of a demon.

For the past few days, you'd done your best to keep Michael's presence in your house a secret. With your workaholic dad's late hours, he usually just came back home, ate a frozen dinner, and passed out in his bedroom before waking around 9AM to stumble to work and repeat the process all over again. So, provided Michael kept quiet, there wasn't any worry. You'd taken a few days of sick leave from work to take care of him, citing a head cold. Now you just had to hope that the police would continue their dedicated search even if people weren't dying.

You wondered, as you sat on your bed with a feverish serial killer half naked and asleep beside you, if hoping he recovered soon made you a bad person.

Probably.

But god he was a bitch when he was sick.

He kept the godforsaken mask on, which you had expected. But when his fever rose to 102 you had kind of hoped he'd take it off for the sake of wanting to cool down. He was persistent, you'd give him that.

You were getting the hang of his body language too. It was subtle but you'd begun to notice the slight shifts in his stance or the way his hands would twitch without a knife in them. At first you'd assumed it was just you projecting but you'd grown confident you could understand him now. Being sick definitely made him more expressive too.

Though, right now, you wanted to strangle him. "Michael, it's chicken noodle soup." You sighed, rubbing your temples. Trying to feed him was like dealing with a picky toddler sometimes. "It's chicken, noodles, carrots, and broth. All things I've fed you before." You could feel his glare at you and you were half tempted to get your own knife to speak his language better.

The infection was running its course, which was the only reason you had so much patience with him. His bitchiness was a byproduct of his fever and you had to keep reminding yourself that he probably hadn't been sick before.

That didn’t make you want to clobber him any less.

"If you eat the fucking soup I'll go buy you pumpkin pie when you feel better." You tried, glaring him down. "Because the sooner you eat this, the sooner you'll get better. And then you can go back to slaughtering the town."

He seemed placated by that. You turned your back to him so he could eat and you let out a silent sigh. You knew him well enough to know he liked that soup, he just wanted to be a jackass about it.

Later that afternoon you yet again threatened him with violence when he refused taking medicine. You weren't surprised he wasn't interested, seeing as he grew up in a hospital. But you were outgrowing your patience with him. You did smirk a little when you realized he absolutely wanted to throw you across the room for all but forcing the antibiotics down his throat. But once it was down, you softened. "C'mere, sleep will do you some good."

Michael glared at you but let you sit next to him against the headboard of the bed as he laid down. You'd learnt he was definitely a stomach sleeper and you could tell by his huffing that the heat underneath the mask was beginning to frustrate him. You jerked your head away when he ripped the mask off, throwing it with a growl and face planting onto the pillow.

"It's okay," you said softly, keeping your gaze straight ahead and fighting the urge to look down at him. "You don't feel as feverish today, you should be back on your feet in a day or two." You heard him grumble and you giggled. "Want me to rub your back? Might help you sleep."

He was silent. But he didn't immediately lash out so you kept your movements slow and purposeful. Like approaching an anxious, abused cat. He didn't know touch that wasn't associated with pain and you had to be careful to avoid startling him or overstepping. Your fingers made contact with his back and you slid your palm over his upper back, rubbing in slow, soothing motions.

Maybe it was exhaustion, the fever, or resignation to your touch but you swore you felt him relax.

Michael's skin was tacky to the touch and incredibly warm but that didn't deter you. You hummed a soft lullaby, keeping your movements slow and gentle. He looked painfully human and you were choking on the urge to care for this man. This strange, silent Boogeyman who'd fallen into your lap and sought you for care and food and attention and it made you want to cry.

If it weren't for his murderous hobby, you'd be infatuated with the sleeping man. The slow rise and fall of his chest made something in your own clench painfully as you continued to rub his back. You'd only known each other for a short time and yet you both had extended a lot of trust to each other. Most people met him with hostility or violence but you'd met him with kindness. A kindness he was unfamiliar with and must have been a welcome change. Either that or he just liked your cooking and bedside manner enough not to kill you. You weren't too picky about his motives.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't fond of him regardless.

The sound of the front door opening was like a bucket of ice down your back. You crept from the bed, carefully shutting the door behind you and heading downstairs, meeting your father's tired face. "You're back early."

"I'm only on my lunch break," he sighed as he shrugged his coat off, "Didn't feel like packing one so I figured I'd come check on you." He was giving you a strange look. "Are you okay?"

You watched him go into the kitchen as you loitered on the stairs, watching him through the awning closest to the steps. "Yeah, just been a little under the weather." You feigned a cough and sniffed. "Getting better though."

Your dad hummed as he opened the fridge. "Michael Myers killed a man at the store the other day." He reached in to pull out a sandwich you'd made for yourself at lunch and hadn't gotten around to eating. Trying to feed Michael was a laborious task.

"Really?" You raised your eyebrows, crossing your arms over your chest. "I didn't hear about it in the news."

He watched you with a painfully blank expression. "Correct me if I'm wrong but… I think you were out shopping before you fell ill, am I right?" Your dad took a slow bite of his sandwich, poorly trying to act casual. "The store clerk said a man was following you outside the store."

Fortunately, you were a better actor than your father. "I didn't see anyone."

But, of course, he didn't believe you. He never did. "Son, a man was killed by Michael Myers the day you went out and now you've been hiding away since then." His cop voice grated on your nerves. It felt like he never stopped being a cop, even with you. Every conversation with him felt like navigating a maze to try and hide yourself from him. You hated it.

"The weather has been getting colder and I work outside. It's really not that surprising."

"Have you seen Myers?" He got sick of beating around the bush, his hands on his hips as he leveled you with an unimpressed look. "Is that why you've been hiding out here?"

The word "hiding" made your hackles raise. Like this wasn't the same man who'd told you to lock the doors and windows when he first informed you of Michael. "Nope." Your smile was fake and bitter and you could see the way he flinched. "Hard to miss a man walking around in a Halloween costume." 

"Kid-" He tried to placate you.

But you weren't interested. "I'll be back to work in a day or so, don't worry."

He seemed remorseful now. "If Myers is stalking you, you can talk to me. You know that, right?"

An awkward silence hung in the air. Your dad seemed to deflate and he ate in silence, pretending to not see you. "Have you talked to Laurie Strode yet?" You asked as you picked at a stray string on your sweater sleeve.

He swallowed and shook his head. "We're hesitant to let her know what's going on until we're certain he's still after her. Dr Loomis has been working with us to try and find him as soon as we can." He scratched his chin in thought. "Maybe I should make a statement soon, what with Halloween approaching."

You gave him another acidic smile. "You'll find him, I'm sure. You're very dedicated."

Your dad gave you a helpless look. If you were five years younger, you might have apologized for being so curt with him. But you weren't sixteen and craving your father's approval anymore. You knew that the family charade you both put up was only because you helped around the house. He wasn't home enough to give a shit who lived there anyways.

He didn't even know the killer he was hunting was asleep in your bed, stitched up with your string and your soup in his stomach. You had no intention of telling him, partially out of spite at this point.

You hoped Michael got better soon.

Lucky for you - and unlucky for Haddonfield - Michael was back on his feet a day later. He was still a bit warm but you knew it was fruitless to try and keep him inside any longer. He had to make another appearance in town anyways or else he'd risk you both. If people paid too close to timelines, your sick leave corresponding with his disappearance would be too suspicious.

But his stitches came out easily and his wound had healed decently. "Next time, come back before your bandages get too dirty." You'd smirked at him as you zipped his jumpsuit up. It felt too close to a wife sending her husband off to work for the day and the thought made your face warm.

You managed to get a few days of relative peace, especially once your father was occupied by Michael killing again. It had also been a few days since you saw Michael and you hoped that was just because his bandages were holding up well. The last thing either of you needed was another sick week.

Currently you were heading home after spending the afternoon reading at the park. Your little bag bumped against your hip as you hopped along to the music coming out of your tinny headphones. It was unlikely Michael had been watching you, since you didn't feel his eyes on you, but you still felt like taking a break from the house for a minute.

The sight of a cop car parked haphazardly along the sidewalk made you freeze. It had hit the curb slightly and looked like the driver had been in a hurry to get out. The door was wide open and you lowered your headphones slowly, the frantic voice over the radio better. The voice was staticy and it sounded like whoever it was was running but their words were crystal clear. "All units respond. Multiple fatalities reported on Orange Grove Ave. Suspect has been identified as one Michael Myers. He is armed and extremely dangerous. Shoot to kill, I repeat, shoot to kill. Over."

You felt your stomach drop and your head whipped around. Orange Grove Ave was just ahead so you took off like a shotgun, sprinting down the street. The only sound was that of your shoes hitting the pavement as you tried to come up with a plan. If they hadn't seen him yet, you just needed to get an opening for him to escape. You knew of Michael's unnatural ability to vanish if your eyes weren't on him.

Desperately, you didn't want him to get shot again.

You rounded the corner onto Orange Grove with a sharp turn, your eyes immediately spotting a second cop car. "Fuck!" You hissed to yourself as you picked up the pace. You should have gone looking for Michael sooner. Should have left for the park earlier in hopes of catching his attention. Anything, anything to have avoided him getting caught.

When you got closer to the car, you noticed a cop hanging halfway out of the car. His head had been smashed in, a puddle of gore, blood, and brain matter leaking steadily down the side of the car door. You felt like throwing up but you held it in when you spotted his partner. A young man, likely fresh on the force, clutching his gun as he pointed it down the alleyway. His trembling told you all you needed to know.

The officer gave you a quick glance, fear obvious on his face. "Get back!" He called to you.

You ignored him and looked down the alleyway. Michael stood there calmly, hanging back in the shadows between the two buildings. Another cop lay before him and you watched with horror as Michael's boot made heavy contact with the cop's skull, a wet, sickening crunch echoing out in the small space.

"Get down and put your hands in the air!" The rookie said, hands on the gun shaking as he kept his eyes on Michael. An idea came to you. It was stupid, reckless, and dangerous.

You lunged for the cop, knocking his gun from his hands and sending him stumbling.

He didn't even have time to do anything but look at you with horrified eyes before Michael descended on him. He grabbed the rookie by his collar and lifted him effortlessly before running him through with his knife, spilling his guts on the sidewalk in warm waterfalls of blood. You scrambled backwards to avoid being caught in the spray but Michael gladly covered himself in the fresh gore. The rookie's lifeless body hit the floor with a heavy, empty sound and Michael turned his attention on you.

You scanned the nearby area and spotted a little path between two houses overrun with grass and brush. Without a second thought, you took off towards it and just hoped Michael was behind you. Other members of the force would be on their way and you both needed to disappear. You ignored the scratching of sharp branches against your arms and hands, only wincing when a particularly sharp one sliced a thin cut across your calf.

But you didn't falter. You kept running through the town, your heart pounding hard and pumping pure fumes through you as you ran. As soon as you broke into the treeline of the forest, you collapsed to your knees and let yourself catch your breath.

A hand gripped the back of your shirt and for a brief second you feared you'd been caught. But Michael dragged you towards a tree, pinning you to it and holding his bloody knife close under your throat, the blade digging into your skin. "Wait!" You struggled against his grip, kicking out at him with your heavy boots. "What did I do?! I got you out of there without getting shot!"

You could see his eyes this close. Hazel, like you'd suspected. His eyes were narrow with hate and anger as he glared you down. But you stopped struggling and that only seemed to make him madder. "I wasn't just going to let you get hurt!" You hissed, reaching up to grab the hand that held your collar tightly, keeping you rooted in place. "I don't see what you're so angry about."

He didn't like that answer. The knife pressed in and you gasped when you felt a stream of your own blood run down, wetting his fingers. "Stop," you pleaded, clawing at him frantically. "Stop, please, I'm sorry."

That wasn't good enough for him and held you tighter. Tears welled up in your eyes and fell, mixing with the blood. Pain shot through you when Michael yanked his knife away, taking a few steps back and letting you slide down the tree as you gasped for breath. Your hands gripped at your neck, slightly relieved it wasn't more than a surface cut. Blood started to stain your hands, falling in rivulets down your arm and leaking over your elbows only to stain the grass beneath you a muddy red color.

His head tilted as he watched and you wanted to spit at him. "Y'know, I kinda thought we had a partnership going on." Your words were choked as you glared up at him. "Was I wrong?"

That seemed to get to him. He straightened up and stared you down. You got up on shaking legs and stumbled away from him and towards the forest. His footsteps were loud as he followed behind you and that only served to make you angrier. The walk home was silent and he stayed a few feet behind you the whole time, never getting closer nor straying. The only sounds were the twigs crackling under your shoes and you were too rattled to feel or think much of anything. Your only goal was getting home.

You kicked the back door open and stormed inside and upstairs to the bathroom. You stared at yourself in the mirror and wanted to smack yourself for your infatuation with a killer who didn't care about you. The cut was, thankfully, small. And hopefully the amount on your arms could convince your dad you were just handling a blackberry bush at work or something. The one on your leg could be hidden under pants until it healed. So you began rooting around for bandages and ignored Michael standing in the doorway.

"I help you get away and you try to kill me?" You growled, glaring at him in the mirror. "I could have let that cop shoot you and I didn't because I fucking care, Michael." Tears threatened to fall again and you swallowed them back when he gave you a tilt of his head. "I get you aren't good with feelings and- and maybe this is just you needing me to clean and feed you but I wanted to help you." You dabbled your neck with a cotton ball soaked in hydrogen peroxide and hissed at the sting. "If that's all you want me for then fine but I need to know where we stand."

He watched you bandage your neck, his shoulders set tight as he waited for you to finish. He set the knife down on the counter and reached for you but you flinched back. "Wash your hands." You mumbled and stepped back more to give him access to the sink.

The water ran for some time as the two of you watched the blood swirl down the drain and out of sight. Once the water ran clear, he pulled his hands out and reached for you again. You wanted to run but were backed up into a corner with no way out.

He covered your eyes with one and you frowned in confusion. "What are you-?" He took your wrist with his free hand and held it to his face again, silencing you. His face felt wet and that concerned you. "Are you bleeding somewhere?" You tried feeling around for any cuts but he shook his head no. "Was it raining?" Another no.

So an idea came to you. A dangerous one if you were wrong. "Were you… crying?"

He nodded. Your heart broke.

You pulled him in for a hug, keeping your eyes closed as you just held him. He dropped the hand from your eyes to hold your hip, leaning into your touch like he did when he was ill a few weeks ago. "What happened?" You tried, holding his face with both hands.

Michael just shook his head helplessly and bumped your foreheads together. Oh. Oh. "Were you… worried I was turning you in?" No. "Was it because I was there while you were, uh, hunting?" No. You chewed on your lip as another dangerous thought came to you. "You were worried I was going to get hurt."

His jaw clenched as his throat worked around a growl. The Boogeyman of Haddonfield couldn't afford to feel anything. He doesn't. As far as anyone is concerned at least. Yet here you were, defying all odds and earning Michael's favor. His protection. His care. And the idea of losing you had terrified him, causing him to lash out at you for willingly putting yourself in danger. Emotions had run high and he'd acted out. He hadn't known what else to do but scare you back. 

"I'm sorry I worried you," you said softly, stroking your thumbs over his cheeks and wiping the moisture away as you kept your eyes closed. "I was worried about you too. I heard the police radio mention shooting you on sight so I went looking for you." His grip on you tightened slightly and you sighed. "I know that you're used to people shooting at you or- or attacking you. But I'm not used to hearing about it."

You finally admitted to yourself and him: "I don't want you to die."

After a moment of silence, he pressed your foreheads together. You felt his breath ghost over your skin and your noses bumped together awkwardly. You hooked a hand behind his neck to just hold him and he squeezed your hips tight. "I don't want you to die," you gasped into your shared air. He made a muffled sound and this felt so much more intimate than any kind of kissing you'd done in the past. You just stood there in each other's spaces, sharing air and warmth and closeness that you hadn't had with someone else in a long time. You couldn't imagine how it felt for him.

"We're in this together now, okay?" You said softly, your eyes fluttering open to meet his. Pretty, you thought absently. But you already knew that. Brown ringlet curls, one eye injured from his fight with Laurie Strode, and a light dusting of freckles across his nose. His face looked damp and you brushed under his eyes with the hem of your sleeve. Despite that, his face was expressionless even though you could see conflict swirling in his eyes. You couldn't imagine how he was feeling. "We'll look out for each other, yeah?"

He gave you a slow nod and you smiled. Your foreheads pressed together again and you felt his shoulders relax as his eyes closed. Trust. You both trusted each other and were partners in this now. You accepted you'd be complacent in his crimes going forward and he'd learn to accept your care in time.

Just you and your Boogeyman against the world...

[wannab-urs]

Scandal

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Prompt: Forced Proximity + “You’re going to get us arrested” / “I always wanted to see you in handcuffs.”

Summary: You get locked in a closet with Dieter at the Oscars

Warnings: semi public smut; forced proximity; reader has hair that can have bobby pins in it, is able bodied, is wearing a dress, and is an actress; the barest hint of enemies to lovers, but not really. WC: 1.6k

A/N: Written for a Dieter Bravo Brainrot Server event. Thanks to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin, @atinylittlepain, and @pr0ximamidnight for reading it for me <3

Dieter Bravo Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

You just need to take a breather, that’s all. The Oscars can be a lot for an actress with social anxiety – there’s a million directors, former costars, and producers all vying for a conversation with you, not to mention the cameras catching you from every angle. And to make matters worse, they’ve allowed paparazzi into the lobby this year. 

There’s a coat closet just down this hallway, if you can just remember which door it is. You walk down the ornate hallway and find a door cracked open just slightly, the smell of weed emanating from the gap. You push the door open and step in, closing it tightly behind you. And you should have known from the smell alone who you’d find on the other side. 

None other than Dieter Bravo. 

“Shouldn’t have closed the door.” 

“And you shouldn’t be smoking in here. You’re stinking up everyone’s coats.”

“No, you really shouldn’t have closed the door. We’re locked in now.” 

“What?” Your voice hits a high frequency. You do not want to be locked in a closet with this particular former costar. You try the door anyway and find that he’s telling the truth. 

“I told you.” 

“Fuck, Dieter. You could have warned me!”

He chooses not to respond, taking another hit of his joint instead. He holds his hand out in offering, but you shake your head. Being high and trapped sounds like a recipe for paranoid disaster. 

You slump to the floor, pouting, but grateful they gave you a dress you can actually move around in this year. Dieter sits cross legged across the closet from you. There are coats lining either side of the walls. 

His usually fluffy curls are slicked back and styled to perfection. His nasty green bathrobe and pajama pants have been replaced by a billowing white shirt and fitted black pants. He’s even wearing real shoes. He looks… good. And he’s surprisingly clear eyed for someone smoking an entire joint. 

“You look nice,” Dieter comments. You look down at your dress – the color was chosen specifically to contrast well with your skin tone. The cut shows just enough bust and highlights your body shape. It’s a good dress. 

“Thanks, Dee. I was just thinking the same about you.”

“Oh were you now?” 

You roll your eyes. “Not like that, Dieter. You just clean up nice, is all.”

“I’m not um…” he trails off. 

“Not on coke anymore? I can tell.”

You and Dieter had worked on a project together a couple years ago. It was in the height of his coke addiction and working with him had been an absolute nightmare. He’d show up for work absolutely out of his mind, having screaming matches with the director, the producers, you. And that was if he showed up at all. The project had never even made it to production, leaving you worried your career was ruined. You fucking hated Dieter Bravo. 

But you could never deny how adorable he is. 

“Yeah. Cleaned up. Went to rehab. The whole shebang.”

“That’s good, Dee. Really.” 

You let your head fall back against the door, exposing the line of your throat to possibly the world's horniest man.

“You look really good in that dress.”

“I’m not going to have sex with you.”

You peek an eye open and see Dieter is already halfway across the floor, crawling to you on his hands and knees. He’s pouting at you. 

“What else do we have to do right now?”

You sigh and try the door one more time for good measure, reaching up behind you and tugging on the door handle. Still locked tight. Dieter grins and crawls even closer, settling between your thighs. He reaches out and strokes his thumb across your cheek. You can’t help but lean into it. 

“Always thought you were so beautiful.”

“Sure, Dee,” you scoff 

“I did. I do. Can I kiss you?” 

“Sure, Dee,” you whisper breathlessly. 

He presses his lips to yours gently at first. His lips are soft and plush against yours and you can’t help but deepen the kiss. You open your mouth and his tongue meets yours, hot and wet. Arousal sweeps through you and you bury your hands in his gorgeous curls, holding him against you. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his lap. You gasp, causing the kiss to break as your core comes into contact with the hard line of his cock in his trousers. 

“So fucking beautiful,” Dieter mutters into your throat, pressing kisses down into your cleavage. 

He lays you flat on the floor and scoots back, settling on his belly in between your thighs and rucking your dress up to your hips. 

“Dieter, you’re going to get us arrested for public indecency.”

“First of all, I’ve always wanted to see you in handcuffs,” he presses a kiss to your left thigh. “And secondly, I don’t see anyone here to catch us,” he kisses your right thigh, higher up this time. 

He hooks his thumb in the gusset of your panties, stroking your already soaked folds. You moan as quietly as you can. 

“So wet for me, already.” 

You groan as he pulls your panties to the side and buries his face in your cunt. There’s no build up, he eats you like he’s ravenous, like he hasn’t eaten in days. His curved nose grinds into your clit as he laps at your hole. His tongue plunges inside you over and over and you can already feel your core tightening. He slips two fingers in to replace his tongue, drawing circles on your clit with the point of it now. You cry out, much louder than you mean to be, than you need to be. His left hand comes up to cover your mouth, his face now hovering above yours as he curls his fingers perfectly inside you. 

“Quiet now, love. Wouldn’t want to get arrested for public indecency.”

The bastard. He thrusts his fingers into you a few more times and you’re coming all over his hand. You bite down on his palm to keep from screaming. He draws his fingers out of you slowly and rights your panties for you. He sucks your come off his fingers like it’s cake batter, letting out a little moan of his own at the taste. 

The door handle jiggles and you both freeze. Just as the lock turns, Dieter grabs you and rolls you both under the lowest level of coats on the side of the closet. You’re on top of him, breathing heavily into his neck. Someone comes in, grabs their coat, and leaves the room, pulling the door closed behind them. 

Dieter goes to roll you both back out but you stop him. You press a kiss to his very exposed throat. 

“I love this shirt. Very Mr. Darcy.”

“It is romantic isn’t it?” 

You drag your lips down his throat to his chest, pressing a kiss to the lowest bit of exposed skin. Your hands find the clasp on his fancy black pants, but you can’t quite get them open.

“The one time you don’t wear easy access pants…” 

“Here, let me.”

You both fumble for a moment before the clasp finally comes open and his cock springs out. 

“No underwear?”

“The lines were showing too bad.”

“Mmhmm,” you quirk an eyebrow at him. 

You wrap his cock in your hand. It’s long, curved a little, and not terribly thick. 

“Pretty,” you mutter before taking the tip in your mouth. He gasps as you suck him down. You swirl your tongue around his head, then flatten it out and let him fill your mouth. He hits the back of your throat and you suppress a cough, pushing him further down. His hands flutter into your hair as you start bobbing your head, sucking him down over and over again. He doesn’t push or pull you, simply rests his hands on the back of your head. 

You pull off him and lick a stripe up the seam of his balls as you stroke his cock. You suck one into your mouth, rolling it gently on your tongue, then switch to the other. 

“I’m gonna–”

You take his cock down your throat again, wanting to swallow his cum. You suck hard on the tip and then drop your lips down to the base as he comes in your mouth. His hips stutter beneath you and he groans. 

You let his softening cock fall out of your mouth and press a kiss to his hip bone. He strokes the back of your head reverently. 

“We should get cleaned up,” you whisper, your voice rough. 

Dieter sighs, but helps you get back to your feet. You take in his rumpled appearance and know you can’t look much better. His chest is covered in lipstick, as is his face. His hair is an absolute mess. His outfit is askew and wrinkled to hell. 

You help him fix his outfit, rub the lipstick off his skin, and finger comb his hair back into some semblance of a style. He pulls bobby pins out of your hair and stows them in his pockets, letting your hair down from the hours of work the stylist did. He smooths out your dress as best as he can. 

“We look…”

“Like we just fucked on the floor of a closet?”

“Yeah.”

He takes a bobby pin from his pocket and picks the lock on the door. 

“You could have done that the whole time?” 

Dieter doesn’t answer. He stands and takes your hand in his and pulls the door open. You’re immediately inundated with camera flashes. The paparazzi have found you. Your agent is going to kill you. 

“I fucking hate you,” you halfheartedly fuss at Dieter. This scandal will be fun to deal with... 

[yeonzzzn]

Hi I'm that anon who requested about the enha hyung line sperm sample. I've had that thought for a very long time already, glad u liked it. I also have another req. Enha hyung line as your college classmate who loves to finger you while your prof discusses in front.

-🪻

omg yes I enjoyed your req so much!! it was so creative your brain is *chefs kiss* and omg my first emoji anon 🥹 you now have ur own # for when you send me stuff 🫶🏻 hope you enjoy this one as much as the last req! these are long 🤭

・❥・ heeseung would have his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he slowly reaches over to you, sliding his hand under your skirt and slowly rubbing his fingers against your folds. you’d try to not jump in your seat, fingers gripping your pencil and other into a fist that laid on top of the table. you should have known heeseung was up to something when he suggested to sit in the middle of the classroom today. heeseung fingering you during lecture is a normal thing, but it was usually in the back of the class. he wanted to watch you squirm under his touch. wanted to watch the way your body shudders when he slides your panties to the side and slides his long fingers inside you. he knew with being in the middle of the classroom, the easier it would be to get caught and that turned him on so badly. you secretly cursed at him while trying to act normal, thinking if you closed your legs tight enough around his hand that it’ll be easier to stay calm, but no, oh no, it just made it easier for heeseung to push his fingers in further until his knuckles were inside, curling his fingers into your g-spot. you covered your hand over your mouth, biting down on your lip to keep from making any sounds. heeseung just chuckles, seeing the way you came undone with his fingers through his peripherals. 

・❥・ jay just stares with a blank face at the front of the class, paying attention to lecture as his fingers work their magic inside your cunt. the buttons of your jeans would be undone and the zipper as far down as it could go as his hand is shoved between your panties and skin. you slouched down in the seat, giving him more access to push his fingers deeper inside you. you thanked any god who was listening that the two of you sat in the back of the classroom away from the eyes of your classmates and professor. your hands gripped the sides of your seat, knuckles turning white as your held your breath to keep from making any noises beside the small inhales from his touch. even though jay seemed calm and collected, on the inside he was going insane. he was loving the way your were giving him more access, being so dirty for him in such a public space. he loved glancing over to you, seeing your squirm and bite your lips. loved that your black laced panties even just a little, were displayed only for him to see. unfortunately for you, a small moan escapes your lips. it wasn’t loud, but just loud enough the professor stops lecturing to face you, “everything okay miss yn?” jay’s eyes were now on you, his smirk so obvious that it was making him so hard that you both were caught, his fingers not stopping, “yeah, yn, everything okay?” you nodded and apologized, saying you had a small cramp in your leg, eyes shooting daggers at jay once everyone’s attention was back at the front, his fingers moving at a faster pace as he kept eye contact with you this time, making you cum in his hand.

・❥・ jake would be trying so hard to not come undone just from fingering you. his own hand palming himself in synchronization with his fingers pushing inside you as he stares at the front of the class, watching the professor write on the board. jake couldn’t even focus on the lecture, the professors voice was muffled, the only thing jake was able to hear was the sounds your cunt was making of his fingers moving in and out of you. it was so lewd and so fucking hot it made his head spin. jake slumped down in his seat, hitting his knee with yours to signal you do the same. which you did, slowly sliding yourself down in your chair, giving jake more reach into your pussy. it took everything in him to not fling his head back and release a moan, to pump his fingers faster into you just to hear you moan out his name, to let everyone in this classroom know how good he was making you feel. jake glances over, loving the way you had your lips tucked between your teeth and hands gripping the chair. oh fuck he almost came just from seeing that. his eyes wander down, loving the sight of his hand moving in your sweatpants, imaging what it would look like to finally finger fuck you without any clothes on at all. the image alone made him palm his cock faster, biting his tongue and locking his jaw in place to not moan. but the moment he felt your cum coat his fingers, he was cumming in his pants.

・❥・ sunghoon would be so relentless. he’d already be sitting in the front row of the classroom, index finger pointing at you and then into the seat beside him. you already knew what you were in for, sunghoon was in a mood and you knew there was no way to convince him to move to the back of the class. but sunghoon would have a plan, waiting until ten minutes into lecture when he knew everyone’s eyes would be on the professor or their notes books or off in lala land. he slowly leaned over to you, whispering, “act like you’re writing something,” your heart raced, picking up your pencil and flipping to an empty spot in your notebook, writing scribbles onto the paper. sunghoon got to work quickly, his fingers unbuttoning your jeans and moving down the zipper, his cold hand then sliding down your panties and between your folds. your body shuddered against the coolness of his hand, trying to focus your hand to keep writing nothing on to the paper. his fingers slide inside you, pumping into at a slow pace and then picking up the pace. his thumb tapped your thigh, signaling you to spread your legs. you were scared to get caught, and due to nervousness you only slightly moved your legs, but felt his got breathe on your ear not even a second later, “I said spread your legs,” he whispered aggressively then moved back into his seat, so you did as you were told and moved your legs further apart. but that wasn’t enough for sunghoon. his free hand reached across him and landing on your thigh, fingers gripping the fabric of your jeans and spreading your legs out wide, his hand that was in your pants moved down further, shoving his fingers knuckles deep into your cunt. you tried to push your legs back together out of pure instinct to keep his hand there, but sunghoon was quick to wrap his leg around yours, keeping that one spread out. you knew better than to move the other leg, deciding to wrap that one around the leg of the table. you glanced over at him, already seeing his lust filled eyes staring back at you, “good girl,” he mouthed, “keep writing,” you tried to focus on the paper, now drawing terrible circles all over the paper, biting your tongue to keep from making a sound.

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Could I get a Zinnia with Epel please? I feel like missing someone in particular would add another layer to his homesickness, and the longer he spent in Pomfiore the more he'd miss being told he was charming (generally just having any sort of affirmation), especially if it's during his first year and he's not accustomed to being away from them for so long.

Epel Felmier:

Zinnia - confessing how much they are missing you.

You were a little taste of home.

After a long day in class Epel couldn’t help but look forward to your phone call, prying about his day like he was the most interesting person on the planet. Compared to your life back at home, all the things he experienced daily must’ve seemed like he was on an entirely different planet, which is exactly how he felt when first coming to NRC. He enjoyed this new life but he missed home, and talking to you certainly reminded him of all the good he experienced in Harveston.

Sometimes, he longed to hear your voice, or your comforting accent, or just a general update so he knew everyone back home was doing okay. He felt like he could finally relax while you were talking, even slipping back into his accent which always had you in a fit of giggles. You joked it was like being on the phone with two different people at times, and it made him want to ask which one you preferred. Would you like him as he was at NRC, or would you prefer that country boy you had known your entire life?

“I’m so excited to come see you for Halloween! I can’t believe it’s open to the public.” You had been gushing about it from the second he mentioned it, and suddenly he was feeling some regret.

What if you really didn’t like the new him? At this point he felt like he couldn’t win no matter the action you took; he missed you as it was and seeing you would be a great opportunity, but then he might get an answer to a question he wasn’t brave enough to pose yet…

He must’ve audibly sighed by accident as you respond with a mumbled, “What are you so mopey about? You…don’t want me to come?”

He feels the panic set in as your question is tinged in sadness, and he’s easily able to understand what you’re thinking. That he was ashamed of you, or that he didn’t want anyone in Pomefiore to meet you, or that he had truly wanted to leave you behind when he went off to bigger and better things in NRC. He doesn’t want you to think that since it was the farthest thing from the truth but he still has his own anxieties about seeing you again.

Hadn’t he promised he’d be cooler and way more muscular by now to impress you?

“No! That ain’t it—I want you to come! I miss you! But the cost for you to get here… I don’t want you to waste your money when I might not be able to see you much.” Epel is sweating bullets, positive that even Vil’s make-up couldn’t withstand the droplets sliding down his face.

You’re silent, and he’s worried he hadn’t gotten his point across properly.

Until you finally break the silence.

“…So, you miss me?”

Did he say that? Did he really admit that? Epel suddenly can’t remember what he said, his thoughts spiraling as he squeezed his phone so tight his knuckles turned white. He couldn’t have, right? Why would he admit that out loud? Why would he say it right to you and possibly open a new line of questioning he was absolutely unwilling to confront right at this moment?

He hung up the phone.

He could say it was from holding his phone so tightly that the screen was confused from all the pressure and just ended, but he knew you weren’t stupid. He couldn’t insult your intelligence like that. He needed time to think, to explain, maybe he was blowing this completely out of proportion. Missing someone didn’t imply anything, right? Friends missed each other. Friends probably didn’t freak out the way he did when saying they missed each other though, but you didn’t see his reaction so you couldn’t possibly know, right?

His phone vibrated and he raised the screen to his face, dreading the message he might’ve received.

‘just another week and we’ll be together again. try not to miss me too much!!’

He’d have to save his response for tomorrow, his hands far to shaky to type out a response.

[loveshotzz]

Your Steve phonesex one shot omg 🥵 don’t know if you’re still doing prompt requests but could I request this Steve one if you’re still writing?

“I want to fuck you against the glass so everyone can see how good you take it”

Modern!Steve Harrington x fem!reader

After Hours.

Part two to this request by @steves-babysitter but could be read as a stand alone :)

Summary: Steve’s running late for your date so you decide to surprise him at work after business hours.

Warnings: smut with minimal plot (minors it’s a no-no.) oral (female receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up!), multiple orgasms, cream pie, semi public sex.

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: I combined this request for part two with @superbcoffeedrinkersubparwriter ‘s request for part two. I hope you both enjoy!

Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated 💘

It had been almost three weeks since the accidental nude incident with Steve and the two of you hadn’t been able to keep your hands off each other since. Like two teenagers who just discovered sex the two of you took every opportunity that presented itself to fuck. Even going as far as picking you up on your thirty minute lunch breaks at work because he just couldn’t wait till you got off. Steve had wanted you from the moment he met you. Now that it was actually a reality he was more insatiable then he could’ve ever imagined and you hated admitting that you were too.

You weren’t expecting Steve’s office to be so big when the elevator drops you off on the 80th floor. It was impressive even in it’s empty form, well past business hours the cubicles are only lit by the leaking moonlight through the giant glass windows. Growing too impatient waiting for him to wrap up you decided to surprise him. A part of you always curious about his big boy job he always talked about and maybe a small part had to do with a dream you had of him bending you over his desk.

You see Steve before he sees you hazel eyes trained on the white glow of his laptop, his thin rimmed glasses sit perched half way down the slender bridge of his nose. Thick brows furrowed in concentration you watch him lean back into the leather of his chair, running long fingers through his hair in an irritated tick. The top two buttons of his white dress shirt sit undone giving you a peek of the beginnings of the smattering of chest hair beneath it. Mouth drying at the sight your fingers twitch, desperate to rack your nails through it like you’d done last night riding him in the back seat of his bmw.

Knocking on the hard wood of his open office door you finally decide to let your presence be known. The look of confusion slowly leaves his face when his eyes meet yours before roaming the length of your body stare turning hungry when he sees the tight black dress wrapped around you. Promising to take you to a nice dinner you’d dressed up for him, even throwing on a pair of black stiletto heels you swore you’d never wear again.

“Well, isn’t this a nice surprise.” His voice comes out like silk through the silence, the tension already thick enough to fill the giant space of the room.

“I was getting tired of waiting for you, thought I’d come see the place that’s been keeping you from me.” Running your tongue over your teeth you catch the way he already has to palm the bulge in his dress slacks as you start walking around the room.

“I’m surprised the doorman let you in after hours.” Sucking his bottom lip between his teeth he watches you make your way to one of the windows that took up two of the four walls of his office. Red finger nails tapping the thick glass before turning around to face him.

“I just said I was Mr. Harrington’s girl.” Voice coming out in practically a purr you hear his breath hitch in his throat at the title.

“Did you now? Using my name to get what you want huh?” Playing into your game he pushes his chair out from under the desk giving you the perfect view of his erection pressing tightly to the seam of his slacks.

“Is that bad of me baby?” Jutting your bottom lip out for good measure you sway your hips with a little more exaggeration as you make your way to the plush chair sat in front of his desk loving the way his eyes greedily take you in.

“I guess it depends on what you’re trying to get pretty girl.” Standing up as you sit down, you can feel the power dynamic shift.

Long legs make their way from behind his work station, the expensive wood at the bottom of his dress shoes make low thumps against the carpet with each step and you swear the air turns electric. Stopping once in front of you, he leans back against his desk with crossed arms. The muscles underneath the soft material threatening to burst at the seams.

“I think you know what I’m trying to get Steve.” Drawing out his name you look at him from underneath your lashes. Crossing one leg over the other you let your dress ride up to the top of your thigh loving the way you can see his cock twitch in response.

“Baby.” His tone is sing song in a warning when the pet name leaves his mouth. “You know better then to give me that kind of look.” His eyes flick down to your exposed legs “Especially when you’re dressed like this.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Lips twitching up in a smirk enjoying the way messy wisps of hair fall in his face when he shakes his head at you.

“I’m sure you don’t, such an innocent girl huh?” His tone is mocking when he smiles at you.

The question goes straight to the already wet lace between your legs, the thought of him on the way here was already enough to have you soaking through them.

“I’m just trying to go to dinner, I’m only here because someone was running late.” Uncrossing your legs you expose just how aroused he had you. The darkened patch on your white lace taunting him just like your words.

The cerulean and moss specks in his eyes turn into a black abyss when they come in contact with your underwear, a low groan rumbling from his chest.

“I think you know exactly what you’re doing.” Not expecting him to drop to his knees, he starts crawling toward you like an animal stalking it’s prey. His gaze holding nothing but want inside his darkened pupils.

Sticking out a heeled foot to stop him his big hands catch it before you can push him away, rocking back on his knees his grip on your ankle tightens before he roughly pulls you closer. Squealing at his sudden aggressiveness your ass hangs off the edge of the chair before he perches your leg over the top of his shoulder. The back of your heel slowly slipping off falling with a loud thud to the floor behind him. The new position had what you’d been teasing him with right in front of his face. His hot breath fanning over your swollen covered nub sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

“I think my dinner is right here, what do you think baby?” Peppering sloppy open mouth kisses down the smooth skin of your calf he nips at the curve of your kneecap making you gasp.

“Steve.” His name is a breathy whine as your hips rock forward on their own searching desperately for friction.

“You gonna give me what I want? You came all the way down here just to do that didn’t you?” All you do is nod dumbly when his fingers loop around the sides of your panties. “Such a good girl for me, I don’t know how I got so lucky.” A pliable wet mess above him, Steve loved how quickly he could get you this way.

“You’re fucking soaked, shit.” Long fingers run through your folds collecting your slick that was starting to drip on the chair beneath you, loving the way the contact makes your body shudder.

“I need to take my shirt off baby, you’re going to get me so messy. My needy sweet girl.” Pressing a kiss on your mound his tongue darts out to taste you before he pulls away leaving you whimpering for more.

Looking down at him from between the valley of your breasts, his eyes stay trained on your leaking hole as he unbuttons the rest of his shirt. You can’t fight the moan that escapes past your mouth when his chest is finally exposed, the thick patch of hair making you flutter around nothing. Licking his lips he can still taste your arousal on him on making him hungry for more, tossing his shirt to the side he re-grips your legs with more force than you were expecting his cock twitching at the yelp he gets. Giving you no warning he wraps your thighs around his head before he buries himself deep into your eager cunt. The tip of his nose pressing firmly against your bundle of nerves while his tongue laps your hole loving the feeling of your fluttering walls around his muscle.

You can feel the cool metal of his gasses against your puffy lips as his face presses deeper into you. Eyes rolling in the back of your head, your neck goes slack Steve’s expert tongue quickly overwhelming you. Moving his face from side to side the tip of his nose hits your clit in a way that already has your legs starting to shake your vision slowly going white when he hums in satisfaction against you.

“Steve I’m gonna cum.” Fingers finding their way into his hair you pull him even closer shamelessly riding his face, his grip on your thighs so tight you could see the whites of his hand prints.

Moving his face to match with your thrusts your mouth opens in a a silent scream when you feel yourself gush around his tongue. Legs clamping tight around his head your fingers pull at his hair needing something to keep you grounded, mind going blank as greedily lapped up everything you gave him.

Giving his hair a small yank you try to get him off of you, the kitten licks becoming too much for your overstimulated clit. Eyes catching the way he was palming himself through his slacks you’re sure you’d see a wet patch if they weren’t black. When your finally able to pull him away a string of saliva mixed with your arousal still connects you, his glasses all smudged up, a fucked out needy expression taking over his face.

“You wanna fuck me baby?” Wiping his bottom lip with the pad of your thumb you suck it in your mouth the sweetness of your cum coating your tongue.

The blunt tips of his nails dig into the doughy flesh of your thighs, a low growl erupting from his chest at your actions.

“I want to fuck you against the glass so every can see how good you take it.” Steve’s voice is almost unrecognizable when finally speaks laced with the kind of want that was almost animalistic the look in his eyes enough to feel the beginnings of a fresh wave of arousal.

Wobbly legs leave their home on the tops of his shoulders before he pulls off your other shoe, standing up you don’t think you’ve ever seen him this hard your mouth watering at the sight. Eager hands work at the front button of his pants. Stopping you once you get it undone he pulls you up to your feet, nimble fingers finding the side zipper of your dress.

“As much as I love your mouth sweetheart, I’m not going to last long and I need to feel you wrapped around me.” Tilting your chin up he presses a searing kiss to your lips, your tongue swiping over his bottom lip begging for more which he gladly grants you with a low hum in the back of his throat.

Pulling yourself closer to him by the grip in his hair, you only let go when you feel the short sleeves of your dress slide over your shoulders. The black material pools at your feet leaving you in nothing but the matching bra to your half missing set. The underwear long gone stuffed in Steve’s pocket for safe keeping.

Bending down he breaks the kiss to scoop you up in one solid motion, your legs wrapping around his waist before collecting his lips again as he walks you to the giant window over looking the city. It’s cold when it comes in contact with the bare skin of your back, but when he rips down the cup of your bra to suck one of you pert nipples in his mouth you can’t seem to care.

“I want this whole city to see that you’re mine. You want that baby? You want them to see how I fuck you, how only I can fuck you?” Pussy drunk words fall feverishly from his lips as his open mouth covers your chest with the heat of his tongue.

“Uh-huh” being the only words you could muster when he starts to suck a small bruise near the dip of your collar bone. Marking you.

Dropping you to your feet his big hands grip your hips turning you around to face the glass, palms flat your eyes catch the flashing lights of the city below. The other buildings that towered as high in front of you sit just as dark as the one you were in, a few lights left on in offices making the idea of someone seeing you still a very real possibility. The realization only turning you on more, this was better then your dream.

Kicking your feet apart you hear his pants drop to the floor behind you before he’s crowding your space. One hand guiding himself into your weeping hole the other gripping your hip so hard you know they’ll be a hand shaped bruise in the morning. Burying his face in the crook of your neck you feel his leaking head swipe through your folds his body shuddering against you at the sensation.

“God you’re always so ready for me baby.” Nipping at your earlobe he doesn’t waste anymore time before sinking into you. The stretch of your walls making you both moan out in unison, your head leaning forward as you try to adjust.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day Steve.” You huff pushing yourself back needing him deeper.

“I know you have, so desperate for me huh?.” Pulling himself almost all the way out he relishes in the way your walls clamp down around him in a tight vice grip before he pushes himself back in deep enough to hit that spot inside he’s gotten so good at finding.

“Fuck, right there.” Your voice is high pitched almost like a porn star when he starts his brutal assault of your g-spot.

“Taking me so good baby, taking me so fucking good.” Fingers leaving their spot on your hip they find their way to your clit rubbing harsh circle eights around the swollen nub. “I need them to see you fall apart on me. I know you have another one in you, I know you do sweetheart, always so good for me.”

His praises mixed with the way his fingers were working you had you already dangerously close to the edge. A flicker of light catches the corner of your eye, looking down a few floors in the building across from you a cleaning crew had started their night. Close enough that all it would take was for one of them to look in this direction and they’d get a perfect view of Steve having his way with you. Tits pressed hard against the glass he pulls out before pushing back in at a slightly different angle hitting a new spot deep inside.

The thrill of getting caught and the way Steve was grunting with his face buried in your neck, the coil inside of you finally snaps in a white hot explosion behind your closed eyes.

“Oh fuck, you’re cumming aren’t you? Shit baby, she’s sucking me in, I can’t - I can’t hold off anymore.” Biting down on your pulse point Steve’s body presses you even harder into the glass as the intensity of his orgasms rips through his body. White hot spurts of cum paint your fluttering insides, warming you against the chilled glass.

The two of you stand there spent acting as if you weren’t on display for the world to see, breathing each other in hands wandering desperate to touch skin. Dragging his lips across the bruised skin he left in his wake, his hands settle back down on your hips, thumbs rubbing slow circles in the dips.

“I think you’re going to have to start meeting me at work more often.” Feeling his smile pressed against your skin you manage to huff out a laugh.

“We might be able to get something arranged. I’m still fully expecting dinner you know, I didn’t wear those heels for nothing.” Turning your head slightly your able to catch his lips in a sweet kiss, thankful that it was him you sent those pictures to and not the guy they were actually intended for.

[fyodior]

〖 IRRESISTIBLE 〗

PAIRING ➼ fyodor x afab reader

NOTES ➼ this is just pure self-indulgent fantasy. imagine Irresistible by one direction is playing in the background. minors DNI! 18+ only

CW ➼ reader is pregnant and in labor, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, semi-public sex if you squint, creampie

WC ➼ 2.2k

DISCLAIMER ➼ this is not meant to be medically accurate, and i do not recommend doing anything written here. it is FICTION so. enjoy :)

“Thank god you’re back,” you groaned as your lover entered the hospital room, arms full of different goodies. He set down the food, change of clothes, and laptop onto the tray table before walking over to you. You were currently standing, bent over and leaning on the side of the hospital bed, one hand holding the underside of your incredibly swollen belly while the other had the white bedsheets in a death grip.

You weren’t able to get an epidural yet, so you were stuck enduring the god-awful contractions until you were dilated enough. Your lover, Fyodor, had been by your side this whole time but left briefly to obtain food and other things you needed from home. With your permission to do so, of course. The 45 minutes he was gone felt like 10 hours.

He placed a small hand on your back but you flinched, your skin overly sensitive at the moment.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, sound very concerned. At the exact same time, a deep contraction rippled through your body and you gripped the sheets fiercely, moaning in pain.

“Why is that even a fucking question?” you hissed, out of breath. You didn’t intend to be mean, you were just incredibly overwhelmed and your emotions had gotten the better of you. Luckily, Fyodor was always incredibly patient with you and your random emotional outbursts, always doing his best to comfort you instead of starting a fight. You honestly couldn’t believe how lucky you had gotten to have such an amazing, compassionate lover like Fyodor.

“You’re right,” he said, chuckling softly to try and lift the mood.

He moved closer to you and draped his tall, lanky frame over your back, using both hands to hold the underside of your belly, relieving some of the uncomfortable weight. You moaned at the slight relief, and leaned back into him.

“Baby dropped and is pulling me down with her.”

Fyodor smiled silently to himself before kissing the top of your head affectionately.

“Ya know,” he started, leaning in close. “Obviously I’ve always thought you were gorgeous and sexy, but god are you fucking irresistible pregnant.” You moaned loudly, the unexpected words filling your already clouded brain.

“Love how round and swollen your belly is, so full of my baby. Watching your bump grow has been such a privilege, but such a turn on. The way your pants slowly stopped fitting and your shirts couldn’t stretch over your bump constantly made me horny. Carrying my baby. Our baby. The one we made together, filling you up completely.”

“Are you- are you serious?” you asked, hand instinctively coming to rest on the top of your bump.

“Dead serious. But never wanted to make you feel weird,” he said, resting his chin on your head.

You opened your mouth to respond but instead jerked in pain in Fyodor’s grip as you were hit with yet another contraction. It knocked the breath out of you, and Fyodor had to hold you tight to his chest to keep your legs from giving out. As soon as it was over and you could breathe again, Fyodor convinced you it was probably best to stay laying down at this point. You were stubborn and hated admitting defeat, but let him help you lay down in the hospital bed.

You looked down to see wet stains on the chest of your gown and realized you had released some milk for an unknown reason. You sighed as you imagined this was going to become a very common occurrence. While you hadn’t known the extent to which Fyodor found your pregnant self sexy, you had very well known how obsessed he was with your breasts that had almost tripled in size since you became pregnant. They swelled just as your stomach did, and while Fyodor was typically an ass guy, he was over the moon with how supple and sensitive they had become. He absolutely loved to touch and hold them, and you honestly didn’t mind the massages and weight relief. He had yet to tell you about his lactation kink though.

Suddenly the doctor walked into the room, put on surgical gloves and settled down on a rolling stool at the foot of your bed.

“Here to check how dilate you are, hon!” she said far too cheerfully, and you did your best not to give her a death glare. After uncomfortably shoving two gloved fingers inside you to gauge how far along you were, the number she gave you made you want to punch her in the face.

“Two centimeters? Are you fucking kidding? I’ve been in pain for hours,” you complained. If it weren’t for Fyodor moving closer to you to hold your hand and kiss your forehead, you probably would’ve burst into tears.

The doctor looked apologetic, and placed a hand on your leg. “Some people just take longer than others to dilate. All we can do is wait, hon. I’m sorry. If it’s really taking too long, we can induce labor, but it’s far too early for that.”

And just like that, she was out of the room just as fast as she came in. Fyodor sat down on the side of your bed, one hand still intertwined with yours, the other brushing the hair out of your eyes.

“Two fucking centimeters,” you growled, wanting to scream. You could see the pain on Fyodor’s face, knowing this had almost as much of an emotional toll on him too.

“I know, darling, I’m so sorry,” he said sweetly, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “You’ll get there eventually, and all will be good.”

“Easy for you to say,” you grumbled, attempting to cross your arms over your chest but failing due to the baby still inside you getting in the way. He just squeezed your hand tighter and pet your hair.

Suddenly, an idea popped into your head. A little bit insane, but you weren’t at your most rational anyway.

“Hey, babe.”

“Yes, my love,” Fyodor responded, voice as sweet and tender as always.

“I’ve heard from some people that there’s something you can do to make your cervix dilate faster.”

His eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed. “And what is that?”

“Well…” you trailed off, suddenly regretting the decision.

“Well, what? You can tell me.”

“Sex.”

“What?” he choked on the word.

“Yeah. Apparently sex during labor can induce dilation and speed up the process, and it’s perfectly safe.”

He still just stared at you wordlessly, eyes wide.

“S-, So, you want me to have sex with you? Right now?”

You looked at Fyodor with sweet eyes and a small pout, a look you knew was his kryptonite.

“Would you, please? Would you fuck me?”

You heard his breath catch and knew there was no way he was saying no now. Not here, not like this.

Suddenly, his expression changed. His eyes darkened and a small smirk spread across his face.

“Of course, my darling. Whatever you wish.”

Wasting no time, Fyodor quickly shut the window blinds and shoved a chair under the door handle. You could see the outline of his growing erection through his pants and smiled to yourself.

Then he was joining you on the hospital bed, hovering over your frame. You looked at him with innocent eyes, though you were anything but. He lifted up your hospital gown to just above your tits, putting all of you fully on display. He stared at you hungrily. On his knees and bent over, he began kissing up your pregnant belly, and being reminded of you carrying, and soon birthing, his child made his cock harden all the way. He ran his fingers lightly over your skin, following the lines of the stretch marks he found so beautiful. You were so beautiful. He couldn’t stop, loved your bump so much, kept pressing kisses and small touches all over.

You sat up a bit – as much as you could, anyway – to look at Fyodor.

“Fedya, love, can we do this quick?” He looked up at you as if he was just snapped out of a trance.

“Yes, of course. Gladly.”

With Fyodor’s help, you were able to position your legs in a way that would grant him access to your pussy, which proved to be difficult considering the size of your belly. He pulled off his pants and underwear and moved to kiss you languidly. His hand rested softly on the back of your head, and for a moment this felt like normal, intimate sex. But any sex with Fedya was beautiful.

His fingers wandered to your pussy and pushed inside, feeling how sopping wet you were and groaning. Definitely just a part of childbirth, but sexy nonetheless.

“You ready, darling?” he asked, leaning away from the kiss to position himself.

“So ready.” He smirked.

He lined his already aching cock up with your swollen pussy, thrusting and gliding in with beautiful ease. The moan of pleasure you let out was almost pornographic, and you slapped a hand over your mouth. You weren’t that worried though, you definitely were not the only one on that floor screaming.

Fyodor was the same, biting back a deep groan as your pussy wrapped around him like it never had before. Swollen due to hormones but stretched to allow for a baby to move through, your gaping hole squeezed his cock beautifully.

With your nod of approval, he began to move, thrusting in and out of you with a slowly increasing speed. He wasn’t able to lean over your belly to kiss you or your neck, so he settled for massaging your sensitive breasts. They were so sensitive at the moment, and the massage felt heavenly.

Soon he was fucking into you at full force, shaking the hospital bed with his thrusts. You were moaning and whining loudly, had given up on keeping quiet long ago. Fyodor himself was grunting and groaning too, overwhelmed by the feeling.

“Feel so fucking good around my cock, darling. So tight and dripping fucking wet for me, and for our baby.”

All you could do was whine in response, both hands gripping the bedrails with tightly. There was something about this situation that amplified your pleasure ten times over, and you were overwhelmed with the pleasure filling your body with each thrust.

“Filling my pussy up all the way with your cock.” He groaned at your words.

At one point you had to take a break as a sudden contraction hit you, and you squeezed Fyodor’s hands tightly as you rode it out. As soon as it was over, he was right back inside you again.

He fucked you hard and he fucked you good, helping you keep your legs open by holding them under the knees. You chanted his name like a spell, and tears dripped out of your eyes as a physical response to the overwhelming pleasure.

Both his hands came to rest once again on your belly, placing your legs over his thighs for support instead. He couldn’t stop staring at it, couldn’t stop staring at you. SO round, so big, so full. Full of him. You had his baby in your womb and his cock in your pussy – you couldn’t be fuller. As he continued fucking you, his mind replayed some of his favorite memories of you pregnant: the time on Halloween where you painted a pumpkin on your round belly, the day where you cried because you were too big to fit in Fyodor’s T-shirts anymore, the way you teared up when you were finally far enough along to see a bump. Pregnancy hadn’t been perfectly easy for you, but it was a beautiful process that Fyodor cherished.

He was snapped out of his trance by your whimpers.

“Feels so, so good Fedya, please, harder.”

He was never one to deny you anything. He thrusted into you deep and hard, both of you moaning with heightened pleasure.

“Gonna cum right inside you, darling, fill you up with another baby,” he growled.

“Oh god, please,” you whined.

And soon Fyodor was spilling all his cum inside you, fucking you slowly through it. He pulled out quickly and redressed before unblocking the door, slightly frantic. More than absolutely anything, he wanted to lay in bed with you and tell you how beautiful you are and how good you were for him, but a nurse or doctor was bound to come by at any second now. He cleaned you up with a towel, making sure there were no visible remnants of his cum left in or around you. Not super sexy, but definitely necessary.

And sure enough, the doctor had returned not long after, and her eyes widened as she checked your cervix.

“7 centimeters…” she said, baffled. “How did you dilate so much in less than an hour?”

You kept your face emotionless but made eye contact with Fyodor, who was on the verge of cackling.

“She’s just ready to come out, I guess,” you said, feigning the sweetest, most innocent smile you could.

At least it worked.

[harryforvogue]

i wrote something. it has nothing to do with my existing characters, but i had fun writing it and i need different things to write here and there or else i go insane. i don't think it's coherent but here you go! <3

(no OC named, just used she/her pronouns)

***

Christmas Eve, 1947

She doesn’t understand why people accept invitations if they’re just going to stand in a corner and brood. The purpose of parties is to socialize, to flirt, to have fun. Nothing good comes from avoiding people like the plague. At that point, why even bother showing?

Although, it’s hard to be angry when the man doing the avoiding is someone she's had a crush on for a very long time.

Harry stands close to the window by the Christmas tree in the living room, staring almost angrily at his whisky. He throws his head back to finish it off, and then sighs deeply, turning his head to stare out the window. It’s been steadily snowing for a few hours now. Perhaps he’s regretting ever coming to such a bland party, or perhaps wondering how badly he’d injure himself if he flung his body out onto the white snow. Judging by the look of his face reflecting on the window, she thinks he must be the most miserable person there.

Her friend has gone all out for the party though. Brought out her most expensive gramophone to play delightful Christmas music and passed around drinks. At first, the population of people in the living room were shy. The men on one side, the women on the other. But after one daring man crossed over to speak to one of them, the night officially began. 

However, Harry remains far from the mingling people. His eyes are downcast, his index finger running over the rim of the glass. He's in his own dark thoughts.

Apparently her staring has been noticed by several of her friends who have prodded her, urging her to go speak with him. ("Come on. don't be scared." "Don't be a baby." "Maybe he'll kiss even you." "Maybe you can replace his old lover." "Maybe someone will finally show interest in you." -- The last one particularly hurts but it's just friendly banter, isn't it?) They bother her for nearly half an hour before she decides it's a decent opportunity. She gives in.

Stealing a bottle of whiskey from the kitchen, she slips into the sea of people and manages to come out unscathed at the other side. Her heart hammers in her chest, but with a few quick breaths, she reminds herself that all she’s doing is pouring the man a drink. There’s absolutely no harm in that.

She stops before him, awkwardly stepping past the tree. His head turns towards her and with a single look, her heart is thundering again.

“Hi,” she says, holding up the bottle. “Can I get you another drink?”

Up close, Harry is devastatingly beautiful. She loves the crease between his eyebrows, the slight pout of his mouth, his strong brows, and his firm jaw. He towers over her by half a foot, standing in his evening suit, one hand in his pocket. Up until this point, she’s only ever seen him from afar. This close, she’s struck by his handsomeness, despite the signs of annoyance. 

She recalls the first time she’d seen him a number of years ago. He’d been casually dating another woman, and he’d taken her dancing at the same country club that she’d been at with her own date. They’d snagged eyes only once during the night, but since then, he’s been all she can think about.

When she’s lucky enough to see him in public or at these parties, she tries to convince herself to talk to him. She’s never been able to until now. Her friends ridicule her for it, but she simply does not have the confidence.

Tonight is different, however.

Harry’s attractiveness isn’t visible to only her of course. He’s been known to date often. But now, there’s another reason why people don’t speak with him.

She heard from a friend who heard from another friend who heard from her cousin that Harry’s sudden disdain for people comes after his wife died while they vacationed together in Milan. He’d left London for Italy just six months ago, and they say that all his letters told them how happy he was. How he loved the new country and its weather and how would live there forever with his new bride. She went by the name of Alessia. Or maybe it was Cecilia. 

And then she died. Caught a disease of some kind. 

Her friends have gossiped extensively about it.

“I wouldn’t ever get involved with a man in mourning,” one friend said. 

“It’s absolutely profane,” another said.

"But maybe you'll have some luck," a third said. "You always seem to get the weird ones attached to you."

(This is true given her horrible dating history, but the jab isn't very nice even if it's from a friend.)

Harry looks at the bottle in her hand and then nods, pushing his glass out. She pours in the liquid.

“Are you enjoying the party?” she asks him.

Harry takes a sip and then says, “Yes.”

“I’m sure you know everybody here, right? You’ve lived in London your whole life, I imagine.”

“I know enough of them.”

She tries to pose it as a humorous observation. “And yet I haven’t seen you talk to anyone since you’ve been here. And I haven’t seen you dance with anyone at any party. I find that you and I are invited to similar gatherings. Maybe we have mutual friends?”

Harry looks at her for some time without answering.

“Maybe,” he finally says, and then finishes his whiskey.

His eyes flicker to glance at something behind her. His brows pull together some more.

She tells him her name. “It’s nice to meet you. Do you want to move to another comfortable place? I can give you a tour of the house, if you’d like, or maybe–”

“I’d rather not.”

"Oh. Then another drink?"

"No more," he says icily.

Her heart stops. “Oh. Right, sorry.”

He puts his glass on the window sill and tucks his other hand into his pocket. “Is this amusing to you?”

She blinks, taken aback. “Sorry?”

“Getting me to talk to you. Don’t be coy. It must be so fun to mess with me.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I can see all your girlfriends behind you. From the look on their faces, they’re having more fun than you right about now.” He shrugs a shoulder. His eyes are suddenly darker, the twist of his mouth making her hands clammy. “You got a laugh out of them. Are you proud of yourself?"

She whips her head to look at her friends who are indeed laughing. To her horror, it seems like they’re laughing at him.

“No,” she says, turning back to Harry. “They didn’t send me here. We’re not–”

“Just leave.” He says her name, but it’s so cold, she feels it stabbing into her ribs.

“No! No, it wasn’t– I didn’t tell them I was coming to talk to you.”

“It must be hilarious.”

“They didn’t put me up to it. I wanted to talk to you!”

Harry raises a mocking eyebrow. “And what could you have to say to me?”

She feels flushed, suddenly put on the spot. All she was prepared for was pouring him a drink. But now he looks at her like he really dislikes her and it’s all too much. And so she blurts, “I’m sorry about your wife.”

Harry’s gaze instantly hardens. “My wife?”

“I thought that you weren’t feeling well because of it so I wanted to make you feel more welcomed. It wasn’t my intention to make you uncomfortable and nobody put me up to it, I swear. I wanted to offer my condolences and I say that I didn’t think it was fair for people to treat you weird, okay? That’s all.”

She holds the bottle of whiskey close to her chest, mentally swearing at herself. With a final apology, she goes to leave, but Harry suddenly holds his arm out to block her from leaving.

He has a funny look on his face. “Condolences? For what?”

Her dress is way too tight right now. Her head is spinning.

“For your wife passing away, of course.”

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up in alarm. “My wife is alive and well.”

And that’s supposed to make her feel better, but now she feels even more foolish. She squeezes her eyes shut and swears. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, it must have been a rumor. I’ll– I need to leave, I’m sorry. I'm so so--”

He doesn’t move his arm though. “Is that what’s happening? All these people don’t know how to talk to a man with an, apparently, dead wife?” 

And then he does the strangest thing. He laughs. It’s a bitter laugh, but it’s soft and there.

“Why do people think my wife is dead?” he asks.

“I didn't know. I should really go. I’m sorry–”

“No,” he says, holding her elbow now. It’s gentle, but firm. “Do you know who started this rumor?”

“Er, no.”

“I don’t think it's me that your friends are playing a joke on.”

Tears burn in her eyes. “Yes, I realize that now.”

He releases her elbow then, and runs a hand through his hair. “My wife is not dead. She didn’t return with me from Italy, but that doesn’t mean she’s no longer alive.”

“Right, of course.” She ducks under his arm. “Goodbye now.” And then rushes away. Her ears burn with anger and embarrassment. She thinks she hears him calling her name, but she continues to leave the scene. She most definitely hears the rest of her friends laughing. 

***

It turns out that hiding in a room for the duration of a party is a lot harder than it seems. Two hours later, she calmed down enough to want to leave the party. She fixes her dress, the bow at the collar, and the gold pins in her hair. She can't do anything about her red rimmed eyes though.

She’ll have to run out of the house because there are still too many people there. She swings her door open and starts to move, but crashes into something hard instead. She nearly falls onto the floor, rubbing her head with a soft swear.

Harry stands before her, looking down with a frown on his face. “I’m sorry. Are you all right?”

She hastily fixes her hair. “I'm fine.”

“Are you leaving?”

“Yes.”

“I was looking for you. I thought you left earlier.”

“I’m leaving now.”

She goes to move around him, but he grabs her hand. “Wait. I need to apologize. I didn’t handle that well at all.”

“Nothing you need to apologize for.” She tugs at her hand in his grasp. “I really need to go home.”

“I shouldn’t have just accused you of being part of something you weren’t. That was very wrong of me.”

“It’s fine. I’m just going to–”

“They’re not your friends. You should never trust–”

She doesn't need that reminder. A sudden spike of laughter from downstairs rings in her ears. “I get it. I do. Now please move.”

He blocks her way again.

“My wife isn’t dead. She’s not here and we’re no longer together, but she’s not dead and I’m sorry your friends did that to you. Listen, hey. I think it’s very nice of you to have come up to me to make me feel better. Really. It’s very kind. And if you’re leaving, I’d love it if you let me walk you home.”

She frowns deeply, looking up at him. “That’s not necessary.”

“I feel terribly guilty for adding onto the torture unknowingly.”

“You didn’t put them up to it.”

“No, but the way I spoke to you was wrong. Please let me walk you home.”

His eyes are earnest, his hair unraveling and falling into his eyes. He releases her hand and waits patiently for her answer.

She wasn’t planning on going home tonight. She’d asked her friend if she could stay over in case the blizzard worsened, but since she’d rather not stay, she doesn’t really have a choice but to leave. The cabs won’t even be running at this time.

“I live far,” she says. “You don’t have to do this, Harry.”

“But I want to. Also,” he shrugs and offers her a sudden charming smile. “I’m a gentleman, though I didn't act like one and I need to make it up to you. I don’t want you to walk home alone.” He turns and holds his arm out. “Come. You can wear my coat.”

She looks at him for a moment, and, afterwards, his arm.

Then, she steps forward and takes it, nodding once. “Okay.”

“Good.”

***

Outside, the snow is almost up to their calves. She’s shivering despite Harry’s coat around her shoulders and his arm around her waist. The only thing that keeps her from falling onto her face on the asphalt is their conversation.

Currently, Harry’s talking about how he was exempt from war as a medical assistant. Now, he’s opening up his own practice in London with his brothers. Family medicine in every way, he calls it. When asked what else he would do if he weren’t a doctor, he says he’d be a professor.

Harry is impressed by her own resume. A published writer. His eyes are bright when she tells him she’ll give him a copy of her book free of charge next time she sees him.

Through chattering teeth, she asks, “If you don’t mind me asking, you said you are no longer with your wife?”

The weird twist of his mouth suddenly returns. She regrets asking.

“We’re in the process of separation.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not.”

“But still.”

They don’t say anything else about that matter.

By the time they’re home, Harry’s holding her hand and she’s all but running to her front porch.

“Would you like to come inside?” she whispers, her fingers trembling as she unlocks the door. “I could make you a hot cider before you leave?”

“I believe your family would mind."

“They’re not home. Off at their own Christmas party.”

"So you'll be home alone?"

The question excites her, but his concerned look tells her he's actually worried about her safety, not the possibility of them being alone together.

"Yes. For the night." It can't hurt to tempt him.

Harry looks conflicted. Under the grey sky and falling snowflakes, he looks near angelic. With a swipe of his hand, he removes the from his face. “No, I don’t think that would be right. But.” He steps closer. “If it’s all right. I’d like to see you again.”

Her heart jumps to life. “Would you?”

“Yes. Can we make it happen?”

Her fingers tremble for a different reason now. “Yes. I'd like that.”

“Good. This Saturday?”

“Okay,” she breathes.

“How’s dinner sound?”

“Wonderful.”

He laughs. “Good. I look forward to it. And bring me that book, yeah?"

"And you don't mind that it's a boring old romance?"

Harry smiles. "I've been looking to expand my tastes, miss." He then ducks his head in a small bow. "Goodnight, then.”

He waits a beat longer and then then turns, carefully walking back down the steps. He lingers by the sidewalk until she’s safely in her home and then puts his jacket back on. 

She locks the door, slides down onto the floor and screeches excitedly into her frozen hands.

[scenezfreak]

Oh hi 🎃 Sorry if this is ass I’m tired and I have to wake up at 6am ���� currently 12:12pm for me…fuck, only 6hrs of sleep <////3

Also I might be doing a profile change

Jeff the killer x Fem!Reader x Ticci Toby

• Warnings: threesome, oral (reader giving), rough sex, spanking, public sex??? (Just sex in a graveyard), slight non-con??

MINORS DNI, NOT PROOF READ!!!

“Fuck..” you mutter under your breath. “Why did I think this was a good idea.” The flash from your flashlight shining over the graves, they’re worn down and almost wilted away just like the bodies buried beneath them. Some names were still visible but most were covered in cobwebs. You snap your flashlight the other way when you hear something rustling in the distance. You try and focus your eyes in the dark, forgetting what you came here for. You hear voices in the distance and you quickly turn your flashlight off and you crouch down behind a gravestone.

“Fuck Jeff. This is clearly not the w-way, you got us lost.” You hear a gruff voice say. “Well Toby,” a raspy voice retorts. “You can’t even remember what you ate for breakfast with your damn scatterbrain.” You hear a scoff from the supposed ‘Toby’ and the footsteps continue your way. You can’t move, you’re scared. ‘Come on…move move move-!’ You mentally yell at yourself but it amounts to nothing as the footsteps stop infront of you. Your eyes are closed, trying to somehow comfort yourself.

“Well what do we have here?” The voice known as ‘Jeff’ says amusingly. You hear Toby rush over, “w-what is it?” He stops when he notices you, an amusing “oh” slipping from his mouth. You finally open your eyes, they widen from the shock of seeing them, the white pale man has a smile carved into his face, the other man had a scar on his cheek, exposing the inside of his mouth. You fall backwards from your crouching position and stifle a scream. Your heavy breaths are enough to let them know you’re scared.

Their figures illuminated in the moonlight, wispy fog covering the ground of the graveyard. You hear a laugh erupt from the white man, his voice indicates that HES Jeff, leaving you to assume the other man with a scarred cheek is Toby. Jeff quickly grabs you by the arm and lifts you up. “What’s a pretty lil thing doing hiding around here?” He says, dragging you closer to him. You try to back away but bump into Toby. ‘How did he get there?’ Your thoughts cut off as Jeff grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Not gonna answer, pretty?” Your face flushed, your face was so close to his…why were you getting turned on now?! This isn’t an appropriate time! You mentally slap yourself.

“Aw Jeff, be kind. Maybe this cutie is just shy~ don’t scare her too badly.” Toby presses his chest against your back. You let out a small whine being sandwiched between him. Suddenly Jeff’s grip returned on your arm, pulling you in the direction of a gazebo in the center of the graveyard. You trip and stumble over your own feet, unable to keep up. Finally you reach it and jeff throws you onto the cold ground of the gazebo. You sit up on your knees. Jeff grabs your hair, forcing you to look up at him. “You wanna be good for us and be able to go home safely?” He rasps out with a smirk. You nod, tears pricking at your eyes out of fear even tho your silently rubbing your thighs together for some friction.

You hear a zip from beside you, Jeff forcing you to face the direction of Toby, his cock out. Hard and dripping with pre cum. ‘Fuck…just from looking at me..?’ You thought. “You’ll be a good girl and suck Toby off.” Jeff chuckled out, forcing your head closer to Toby’s cock. You open your mouth and rest your hands on Toby’s thighs for support as Jeff uses his grip on your hair to push and pull your head, essentially forcing you to go deeper. You let out small gags. “Such pretty n-noises, right Jeff?” Toby lets out a barely audible whine. “Yea, shit, I might get jealous.” Jeff replies, unbuckling and pulling down his pants with one hand. He pulls out his cock, letting go of your hair. You release Toby’s cock from your mouth, letting out coughs.

You catch your breath as your look up at Toby, your eyes glossed over from gagging on his cock. Toby almost loses his breath when you start stroking his cock, your doe eyes looking up at him. His hand comes down to rub at your head. “F-fuck…so good” he breathes out. “I need some action too, pretty” Jeff says, sitting down on the bench in the gazebo. You crawl over and takes his cock into your hands and start thumbing at his tip. He sighs, waiting for you to take him in your mouth. You take him in quickly deepthroating him, your nose scrunching up as it presses against his pelvis, his pubes pressing against your nose was only making you more wet.

You feel your pants and underwear being pulled down. You moan around Jeff’s cock as your cunt is being stretched around Toby’s. “S-so damn right!” He struggles to get out. Jeff grunts when he feels the vibrations from your moan travel through his cock. Your nails digging into Jeff’s thighs when Toby starts to pound into you relentlessly. Jeff grips your hair once more to gain more control over you. “Shit- yes just like that. Look up at me, baby.” You comply as your tear filled eyes look up at him. His smirk and praise causes you to tighten around Toby. “Such a damn whore, aren’t ya’ cutie?” Toby says with a rough buck of his hips. You can only whimper around Jeff in response.

You try suppressing your gags as Jeff lifts up his hips to fuck into your tight throat. “Good little slut.” He praised and degrades. You can feel Jeff’s cock twitching in your throat. Soon Jeff pulls you to him with a loud groan, keeping your face pressed against his pelvis as he releases hot milky cum down your throat. “Swallow.” He demands. You comply, swallowing all of his seed. You pull back and gasp for air as you rest your head on his thigh. Toby’s pace quickens. “Be a good whore and tell him how good I’m fucking you.” Toby spits out. “F-fuck ‘s so good…yer cock ‘s filling me up so good…haah-“ you manage to say with a weak filled voice and sore throat.

Jeff relaxing back as he watches your face as you get fucked. “So pretty being used for our pleasure” he coos. You moan out and “oh fuck-“ as you feel the coil in your stomach break, causing you to cum on Toby’s cock. “S-shit…so messy, b-baby” Toby says. He smacks your ass as you tighten around him, feeling your velvety walls clamp down around him is the best feeling he’s probably ever had. He soon whimpers and throws his head back as he finishes inside of you. “Fuck!” He says, you feel warm spurts of cum flood inside your aching cunt. He slowly pulls out and spreads you open to see his seed drip out of you and fall onto the cold floor.

“She really knows how to work her body” Jeff says directingly to Toby, you body has collapsed, your head still resting on Jeff’s thigh. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to call this mission off early and take her back with us.” Toby suggests. “Tch. I still need my fair share of that pretty cunt of hers.” Jeff responds seemingly jealous. “Hey well at least you got to cum down her throat.” “Well nexttime we’ll just switch places.” Toby picks up your body and they head back with you. They’re never letting a pretty thing like you go~.

[lalasworld2x]

Jason Voorhees Headcanons

• At first, he did actually try to off you. Whatever you were doing in the woods by yourself, he didn’t care and just wanted you OUTTA THERE.

• But something about you made him pause, he let you escape for a bit. He knows the woods like the back of his hand so it didn’t take him long to track you down again considering you were lost.

• He took you back to Camp Crystal Lake and sat you down in one of the cabins, trying hard to calm you down. Anytime you almost got the upper hand, he would get aggressive and you would cower away again, and he would soften up.

• It took a while for you to kind of remember the actual story of the legendary Jason Voorhees, your frazzled brain just kept focusing on the fact that he kills people lol

• For the first few months of your relationship, it wasn’t exactly dating and more so just trying to figure out how everything would work as acquaintances, then as friends, then eventually as partners.

• He was definitely aggressive for the few couple weeks, maybe even months, having severe trust issues. You also had trust issues so good thing a middle ground was met lol

• Even though he’s from New Jersey, it doesn’t really matter what sign language you teach him.

• It’s not like he can really go into public with you. He’d go insane seeing any teenage-

• And if you wanted to learn sing language yourself, this is a great opportunity!

• You can teach him how to read and write too. Maybe even get him a phone so you can message each other.

• He might be able to remember some of the things he learnt before the drowning, since he was 11 at the time. But not needing to use those skills for so long may have ruined some of his abilities, but thankfully you’re there to teach him :]

• He gives the BEST bear hugs known to man. They last as long as you want (kind like the Disney land hug rule) and are as warm as can be <3

• You found him calming hobbies, like gardening and fishing. Whenever you weren’t around, he would look after the forest around him and later show off his progress to you.

• It wasn’t uncommon for nasty teenagers to storm in and destroy everything, or just disturb the piece, so you often find splotches of blood somewhere around the path. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out why lol.

• You did set boundaries with Jason, saying that he needed to cut back on the killing ESPECIALLY if you were around. In all honesty, he didn’t care much for this. He will respect it around you, but he’s been doing this most of his life and he doesn’t really plan on hanging up the machete.

• He will respect most other boundaries though. He’s evil but he’s still a human, willing to be somewhat decent lol

• I don’t think he would be much of a family man, I think it would be a bit dangerous for you to raise children with him. If you already have your own children, I would keep them away from him for the most part. It’s not like he’s gonna go on a rampage the minute he sees them, but I don’t know if he’s good with bratty kids or moody teens lmao

• Further into the relationship, he absolutely loves spending time with you. Anything from sleeping in bed together, meals together, going for walks, having a pet (must be a big doggie!), gardening with you

• He probably won’t get over his fear of bodies of water, but I think you would be able to encourage him enough to sit in it. He stills gets major anxiety, but he likes to sit on the bank of the sand with you.

• He especially loves camping with you. Even though he lives in the cabins, he still keeps a tent around and you two do little camp fires. You buy some snacks from the store and eat together.

• Often when camping, you set up a big white tarp and a movie projector, and play whatever movies you feel like. He doesn’t always understand the appeal, or engage with the movie, but he still sits and enjoys your company.

• Gazing at the stars is his favourite with you. Just sitting in silence. You’ll make small talk and he’ll grunt and groan in response. The night sky has always fascinated him. He didn’t get the education to understand it all, so he likes to keep it a mystery.

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

I’m so sorry that this sucks, but I felt that if I wrote it any other way, I would write chin terribly OOC 😭😭I realise it’s mostly negative stuff but I’ll try and come back to it to make it better :/

Masterlist

[twistedroseytoesy]

i've read your other amazing squid s/o stuff and i decided we don't have enough </3

how about the Octavinelle trio with a mer s/o who is a bigfin squid? i imagine their s/o would be stupidly tall, and since they're deeper sea squids they'd be sensitive to light :) s/o standing in the dark corner ominously

-bigfin anon :D

These creatures have very little known about them. so I did a bit of research to try and figure it out.

Also warning for this story due to some body horror. Also a bigfin squid just under the cut!

Description

You are a rather shy and secluded mer, deep in the depths of the ocean and swilling using your large fins on your sides, your long arms shifting around to catch any small creatures floating in the water to eat. You have pale white skin with black eyes. The few merfolk interactions you didn't really like due to how they made fun of your weird elbows.

When you came to the surface you were still made fun of for your odd human form. You are abnormally tall at 6’9” so our learned the art of slouching and keeping your head down. Your pale white skin and black eyes weren't too unusual it was your arms and sides. Along your sides were little flaps of skin similar to your very large fins that helped you through the water. Your arms had a second elbow just above where the elbow usually would be. you're able to contort your arms into very unsettling and unnatural shapes due to this. It also doesn't help that your elbows are able to bend both ways. Creating even scarier contortions. You were bullied a lot for this and when you discovered how often humans will cover their arms you started to do so. you trained yourself to lock your second elbow and try to pass it off as normal. At NRC you are happy to leave behind the rude mers at the training camp but it's so scary and way to bright on the surface. you just hope no one will find out about your arms...

Octavinelle

Azul: Unfortunately any student trying to keep their head down means they have something to hide, and something that people want to be hidden can be exploited. He had Jade observe you and was told about your mer characteristics. Blackmailed you into working for the lounge, mostly in the back of the kitchen, since you practically begged him to not have you work with the public. You were an ok worker but very shy. Honestly found your arms super weird and disturbing, stopped any bullying against you since he knows what that's like. After his overblott, he released you and apologized for his actions. He even offered some small discount in the lounge for you.

The first time he saw your mer form was by accident. It was very late and azul usually would use his personal tank to be in his merform, but unfortunately, it was being cleaned thanks to a certain eel twins prank. You shrieked when you both made eye contact. He stumbled back from the pool not expecting anyone else to be there. You try and hide your arms and flee but the pool wasn't too big. He assures you that you are fine, but when you say that he doesn't have to lie to you about it. You know that others see you as weird with your weird arms and huge side fins. He shushes you and recognized that you've been through similar things like him. you both connect over being seen as monsters. To him, you're so interesting, being fairly boneless yet having what equates to elbows. You both don't move fast either and become good friends behind closed doors, venting and helping each other heal from your pasts. The twins still tease you both but will happily torture anyone who speaks badly about either of you.

Jade: oya? seems a little fish is trying to keep their head down and stay unseen? what are you trying to hide he wonders. Thanks to permission from azul he observed and watched you carefully. Finding out that you were a merfolk wasn't too big of a surprise, what surprised him was what type of merfolk you were. Not many deep-sea merfolk are ever seen. And your type of merfolk, even the species of squid are rare to see. He continues to watch you for a bit before revealing himself. you were blackmailed and forced to serve in the lounge, but luckily the back kitchens were somewhat dimly lit and you worked well. despite a few accidents here and there from your strangely long arms. He likes teasing you and seeing you squirm from his comments. once served you up some squid and you looked rather sick.

He obviously saw your merform when he was stalking observing you. He honestly thought you were interesting. the large fins along your side were something he has never seen on any mer and the strange elbow-like spots on your arms were interesting. Does experiments with your arms and gets morbidly fascinated at the crazy contortions he is able to push your arms too. may or may not have taken a bit off of one of your tentacles when he decided to swim with you in one of the octavinelle pools.

Floyd: Honestly thought you were so boring since you were always so shy and covered up. Once Jade revealed that you were a mer then he was interested. called you little clam. Likes to poke and prod at you to try and see how you would react. He pestered you a lot when you were forced to work in the kitchen. When he was told about your arms he immediately grabbed them and you freaked out and used an impressive amount of strength to throw him back and run away. He liked that!

He chased after you to where you ran away and saw you out the octavinelle windows into the water around the dorm, followed you and you elbowed him back. He laughed at your elbows and noted how he's never seen a bigfin squid! he likes to poke at your big fins and laugh at your elbowed tentacles. He's mean but he will defend you if anyone decides to mess with you, only he's allowed to mess with big fin squiddy! Otherwise, he gets rather bored with you and even just ignores your presence, you like those days.

[noroi1000]

Can I request Gojo x reader where they r in highschool and Gojo has a very big crush on reader who is as strong as him and is tall beautiful with long hair. But reader later gets into a relationship with another sorcerer ( gojo and yn classmate you name him) whom she loves. He is also handsome but has black hair and green eyes and personality like Nanami but he also loves reader dearly. Gojo was there when reader confessed her love to that guy and Gojo was heart broken 💔. Reader used to kiss her bf in public, buy him expensive stuff, go on dates etc. When gojo , yn and her boyfriend went on a mission she brutally massacred the curses when they hurt her bf and Satoru was always there just looking at yn with sadness. But then yn 's boyfriend cheats on her like when they graduate high school and become teachers . They break up and Gojo uses this opportunity. You plz continue the story but in the end they get married and r known as the power couple

The tale of the strongest couple

paring: Gojo x reader

words: 1,5k

warnings: angst, broken heart, betrayal

a/n: This is short. Sorry.

(bf/n) - Boyfriend's name

Your hair waved gently in the breeze as blue eyes saw your silhouette. Your body was wrapped tightly around the body of the boy you both went to class with. (Bf/n) was tall, but not as tall as Gojo. You could say they were opposites.

Gojo's hair was snow white, and his eyes were the color of the crystal blue of the sea in which pieces of light were immersed.

And (bf/n)? He had black hair and slightly dark green eyes.

He was like a combination of Gojo's best friend Geto and Nanami.

However, he was different from Nanami and Geto. They both knew you had a place in Gojo's heart. Such a big place that always makes him feel warm in his chest when he sees you. And they are really nice. They make sure that Satoru has a chance to show you that you are important to him. That's why they don't bother.

(bf/n)'s different. He doesn't care that there was always more between you and Gojo. Even if you were friends. Well, he fell in love and then left. Within a year, he already had three girlfriends.

You were his fourth girlfriend. He kept telling you that he loves you and no one else. That you are his only one who makes his life full of love.

Every time Gojo heard that, he thought he would throw up. It was such a well-rehearsed lie.

Gojo had a feeling that he might have you as a girlfriend because he thinks you're pretty, and being with you will bring him a pleasant life. Besides, you're both strong sorcerers.

Only problem was you were stronger than him.

You were so beautiful, you deserved more than he did.

But Gojo he couldn't force you to fall out of love with him.

He couldn't force you to fall in love with him.

Even if he loved you so much.

His hand with flowers for you slowly dropped the bouquet to the ground as you hugged your boyfriend.

The leg of the white-haired man accidentally stepped on a flower whose stem broke. Just like his heart. His smile disappeared.

His eyes were dulled.

He walked away, turning once to see if you noticed him.

You were talking to your boyfriend. You didn't even look where he was standing.

But when he was gone, you looked at the ruined bouquet on the ground.

Shattered like his heart.

You were sorry that Gojo had lost his former glory. He was always able to brighten the atmosphere with a smile when you were going on a mission.

It was different now.

His face was so cold. Devoid of any warmth.

He was filled with indifference and sadness.

Why should he care? You don't love him anyway...

And you won't love him...

Your boyfriend does it for him.

He doesn't have to. You are lucky enough. And you don't need him to smile.

So why should he ever smile again?

What for?

Why should he smile when he can't smile at anyone but himself.

Therefore, his face was not shiny.

So many days since you've been with your boyfriend, his warmth has begun to fade.

Until now when you've been together for a few months, all you could feel from him was a chill that hit someone else every time Gojo was around.

Sad, lonely, unloved by the person he loves.

Even though you've always been so close, being with someone else makes their heart freeze. And the longer it goes on, the more it hurts.

At least he hoped his suffering would end somehow.

Maybe when his heart is frozen to feelings, maybe he'll feel better. When he will no longer be able to instill feelings for someone, especially love. Maybe then his sadness will become less? He just needed that answer. Can he become the least sensitive man in the world to escape his suffering and pain.

He can not.

Because you were more worried about others than yourself.

You protected your boyfriend, and you yelled at him when he wasn't doing anything. He was afraid of several curses.

Gojo never liked anyone arguing. But when he saw you arguing with your boyfriend, he felt like it was good for him.

He watched you move, with a small twinkle in his eye.

You didn't have the techniques he had, but you were powerful.

Your boy was strong, but he had a flaw. He was afraid of curses. And the sorcerer had to be crazy and not so afraid of death to think about it all the time.

The guy who hid behind the woman so as not to get hurt too much... And then went to another room to exorcise the weaker curses.

You and Gojo were left alone.

And he couldn't help feeling the ice crumble. Even though there was still sadness in his eyes that you were focusing more on your boyfriend than him...

He was looking at you instead of curses.

And he heard you screaming his name.

He was still sad. But, he thought he might still have a chance.

His back began to fall backwards and he fell to the ground.

You on his belly, watching as the curse that was attacking was stopped by an invisible barrier.

"Satoru-kun!" You screamed, tugging at his uniform to wake him up.

"(y/n)..." he murmured softly, and looked at you lightly.

He sat up and grabbed your arms lifting you up to hug you.

He put his hands on your back and hugged you.

You didn't mind.

He was your friend.

Besides, he'd been acting weird for so many days.

You must give him some consolation.

"I love you..." he whispered with his lips twitching.

His words have been with you forever. And when you went on dates with your boyfriend, you felt like he was so absent...

Gojo, on the other hand, was a little closer to you.

He smiled more than then.

But you still loved your boyfriend.

And he still had a broken heart that, being frozen in place, still beat only for you.

Until one day your heart froze too.

Especially when your cheek was burning from the slap you received from the boy you thought you loved for a year.

Until he finally showed up next to you with another girl. Hugging and kissing her.

Slapping you in the face as you walked over to him and started yelling at him.

Even though you were stronger than him and could have ended it sooner than he expected, you ran away.

Because a broken heart over betrayal hurts more than any wound.

Your only comfort was your friend who held you all night.

He acted like he'd never heard him confess his love for you. You needed comfort. And you only got it from him.

Your heart has frozen completely.

Your whole strength was so cold. You fought with your might, but there was no pleasant emotion in you.

Your memories weren't nice.

And for the next few years, you would create new ones that would warm your heart.

And the person who did it was none other than Gojo Satoru, whose ice on his heart disappeared the moment he had a chance at your love.

His smile lit up yours.

And at his insistence, you became a teacher at Jujutsu High. To take from the kids some of their happiness that they have.

For so many years your heart has been mended by him.

And his smile made your heart beat to see his happiness.

He acted like you when you were betrayed...

He was sad, he felt that no one was with him.

Because he was heartbroken when you had a boyfriend.

Because he loved you during it...

And he still loves you.

Maybe if you gave him a chance?

Your head was on his chest as you cuddled up to him.

His hand held your head close to him. keeping you comfortable.

"What happened, (y/n)?" He asked calmly, looking at you from behind his blindfold.

"I just..." I muttered, my hands clenching the material around his chest.

"What's wrong? Mochi?" he asked gently.

You liked the way he spoke to you. It was a lovely name.

"I..." you reached for his collar and suddenly pulled him down.

Putting your lips gently on his.

Now you know...

You should have fallen in love with Gojo Satoru from the start.

He has loved you for so many years.

And he took care of you while you took care of others.

You should start writing The Tale of the Strongest Couple from the beginning.

What you started was wrong and painful.

If you had started with life with Satoru, you might have been happiest from the start.

You were now a powerful female sorcerer who is the girlfriend of the strongest sorcerer.

Until one day, some time after that, you felt something hard in the cupcake. And you pulled a diamond ring out of the cream.

[hopepetal]

Welcome to villain Hotguy and the Scarlet Witch! Based off of this post by yours truly! Enjoy!

Hotguy was a very well-known hero. Not only that, but he was well-liked. So much so, in fact, that he was rarely ever out of the public eye. It was hard, after all, to be so famous and still be able to sneak around the city as he once did as a teenager. Not helped at all by his signature colours and outfit that stood out from the general populace, Hotguy always found it quite difficult to visit his boss.

Not his “boss” as the civilians of the city knew it. Hotguy felt his lips curl up in a disgusted sneer just thinking about that fraud that called himself the mayor of the city. It made him sick to his stomach just to recall those fake smiles, pressed suits, greasy hair and poisonous words.

No, his true boss was one he once greatly feared. They had been enemies at one point, even, before Hotguy had discovered the true horrors of the city's council and what they had done to Cuteguy. After a thorough butt-kicking, Hotguy had been offered a place not necessarily by her side, but still on her side. That had been enough for him and he had taken the offer gladly, working under the notorious Scarlet Witch to expose the corruption of the government.

As he walked down the darkened hallway, Hotguy couldn't help but admire the amount of effort that went in to maintaining the “villainous ambiance” if he did say so himself. He wasn't sure if it was more because of the Scarlet Witch being a moth hybrid and therefore a little more sensitive to light than most, but whatever the reason was, the whole low light kind of deal made everything just a little more spooky.

Hotguy's boots clicked against the hard gray floors as he made his way to the large, ornate door. He had never really figured out what the floor was made out of, and had stopped asking after the Scarlet Witch had responded with “the bones of my former soulmates” and winked at him. Which, one, terrifying, and two, he was dating Cuteguy. So. He was fairly certain he was not the Scarlet Witch's soulmate.

Stopping at the door, Hotguy took a deep breath. He raised a hand and knocked once, twice, thrice upon the wooden panels, grabbing the doorknob and pushing at the light “come in!” that rang out from inside. In true Scarlet Witch fashion, she was sitting in a comfortable chair behind a desk, the curtains closed tightly behind her. Hotguy did not question the decision of the builders who put windows in the room of someone as light sensitive as the Scarlet Witch, at least not out loud.

Having donned her signature red cloak and hood along with a white dress shirt tucked into black leggings, the Scarlet Witch wore a light smile on her face. The upper half of her face was covered by the masquerade ball-esque mask not even Hotguy had seen her without, but her expressions came across through her body language. She was happy, having clearly heard about the successful mission Hotguy just returned from. “Take a seat!” she exclaimed, gesturing to the chair across from her on the opposite side of the desk.

Hotguy sat, leaning back in the chair with a bright smile on his face. “Well hello there, Scarlet! Fancy seeing you here!” he said, like he wasn't fully aware that this was the Scarlet Witch's office. “I'm guessing you got the good news?”

The Scarlet Witch nodded, leaning forward and clasping two of her four hands in front of her on the desk. “You found Cuteguy and successfully extracted him from the facility alongside the vigilante Redstone Man?”

“You know it!” Hotguy's smile fell for a moment. “It was pretty bad. We got him to the private hospital though, so he'll be right as rain soon enough!”

The Scarlet Witch hummed thoughtfully, continuing to nod. “I hope that is the case. What is the status of the Listener and the Canary?”

Hotguy shrugged. “Weren't present, so I guess they had bigger fish to fry. I know something was going on downtown but I didn't really pay attention to it. Something about potatoes... Redstone Man vehemently denied any sort of involvement which makes me think he's involved, but hey, a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.”

The Scarlet Witch sighed, breathing out a soft chuckle. “Vigilantes. Always so... interesting.” Her word choice left much to be said, but Hotguy could kinda figure it out from her tone.

“Yep! Life certainly wouldn’t be the same without them!” Hotguy chirped, thinking back fondly on all of his encounters with Redstone Man and Potato Boy. Despite them insisting they were not the same person, Hotguy knew they absolutely were but decided to humor them. “Right, so that was kind of about all I had for now. Did you have a next move for us, or…?”

The Scarlet Witch shook her head. “I should have a plan by our next weekly meeting with the others, but all I wanted to do at the moment was check in with you and make sure my bro- that Cuteguy was alright.” All four of her hands tightened into fists. “I swear that the ones who did this will pay,” she got out from in between clenched teeth, “no one hurts an ally of the Scarlet Witch and gets away with it. No one.” 

Hotguy kept the smile on his face despite the fear that ran ice cold through his veins. He held in a shudder as he subconsciously hugged himself. “Right, of course! Same goes for good ol’ Hotguy over here. No one hurts my friends! That’s the Hotguy promise!”

The Scarlet Witch gave him a wry smile. “You’re a good friend, Hotguy, and a good person to  have on my side. I’m glad I kicked your butt that day.”

Hotguy let out an exasperated huff. “You only slightly kicked my butt, and I was distracted-!”

“Uh-huh, I’m sure. Let’s go with that.” The Scarlet Witch stood, walking around to Hotguy’s side of the desk. She gestured for him to stand and follow her, and he did, following after as she walked to the door. “I’ll see you at the next meeting, then. I’m heading out myself, but I wish you a safe trip home.” She opened the door and held it for Hotguy before slipping out after him. 

Thanking her for the kind gesture, Hotguy nodded. “You as well. Don’t get kidnapped or something, m’kay?”

Although he couldn’t see her face, Hotguy knew she was giving him the most deadpan stare right now. “Yeah, because that’s something I have to worry about.” She turned and began walking away, raising a hand in goodbye without turning back. 

Hotguy let out a sigh, and began his own journey back home. He’d have to take the back alleys, of course, but he didn’t mind. He was just glad to have his boyfriend back, even if Cuteguy was in the hospital for the time being. It was a start on the long road to recovery, and Hotguy was optimistic even as he recalled how fragile Cuteguy had been, strapped to the operating table in that paper thin gown, completely oblivious to the world around him.

The image of how Hotguy had found his boyfriend and “nemesis” as the public thought, with Cuteguy being a villain, made his chest ache with a grief he didn’t understand. Cuteguy wasn’t dead, he was alive and on the mend thanks to Hotguy! As he ducked into the alleyway, Hotguy figured it was the self blame coming back to eat at him again. Logically, he knew he had done all he could, but Cuteguy’s capture had still been some of his fault-

Nope! Not thinking about that! Just get home, go pet Jellie, and cry about everything in bed! That sounded like a great plan. 

And that was exactly what he did.