#move his head so he could look up at me. and that's how he passed. looking up at me.

[2cupids]

warnings. popular!reader, oral (m. receiving), tittyfucking, tiny bit of degradation, cüm eating. mdni (17+).

wc. 1.9k… read part 1 here!

weeks had passed and a new semester had begun since that encounter with nerd!choso and it was a nearly forgotten memory in your head.

but for choso?

he thought about it everyday. it was like a driving force that helped him push through each day and he could only dream of getting so lucky again.

so the moment he saw you walking towards him as class was being dismissed, your ridiculously short skirt swaying as you moved, he knew his prayers had been answered.

“you busy? i need you to write that research paper for me.” you ask nonchalantly as you swipe the wand of your lipgloss across your bottom lip, reapplying it.

choso’s in a trance as he watches you put your gloss on your pretty lips. you were so alluring, so gorgeous. seconds pass and still no answer. you sigh and roll your eyes, looking down at choso and making contact with his bright eyes as he stares at you.

“well?” you furrow your eyebrows as your patience grows shorter and the nerdy boy has yet to answer. choso’s heart flutters at your harsh tone and he swallows the lump in his throat before he finally answers.

“n-no, i’m not busy. i could have it done by saturday.”

your hardened expression instantly softens at his words and you give him one of your sweet smiles. “good. i’ll pick it up on sunday.”

as you turn to walk away, choso stops you. “wait! um.. wh-what do i get for helping you?” choso asks quietly, averting his eyes down to look at your legs. he can’t look you in the eyes.

you turn to him, eyeing him up and down. “and who the hell are you to ask me that?” you smirk at him, but your tone is condescending. you’re offended he would even ask that. “you don’t need to worry about that, i’ll figure out it. just get my paper done.”

and with that, you’re walking up the stairs of the lecture hall and exiting the classroom. choso sits there for a moment, replaying what just happened and taking a moment to collect himself. he finally stands up and adjusts his pants, pulling his hoodie down to cover his boner before he leaves.

the days seem to pass by much slower than he would’ve liked until the long awaited day finally rolls around. choso’s mind is flooded with the multiple different scenarios that could play out, but hell, he would take anything you give him. and that’s only if you decide to pay him back for his kindness again this time.

he’s lost in thought when there’s a knock at his door and he rushes to open it, letting you in. his hands immediately reach for the paper and you quickly skim through it, slipping it inside your bag and setting it down on his desk.

“what should i do with you?..” you cross your arms and let your eyes trail down his figure before letting them rest on his face again. “i could make you put your mouth to use. i want my pussy ate, but i know someone like you doesn’t know how to eat it. and i don’t feel like teaching you either. just go sit on the bed.”

you wonder what you can do and that’s when an idea comes to you. you walk over to him and kneel down in front of him. “so where’s your bottle of lube?”

choso’s taken back. how did you know he even had some? probably just a lucky guess, but then again you are much more experienced than him. “i..um.. it’s in the desk drawer over there. the first one.”

a faint smirk plays on your lips as you roll your eyes and stand up to go get the lube. you pull your top off and throw it on the floor, revealing the lacy pattern of your bra underneath as you sit back on your knees in front of choso again. your eyes catch sight of choso’s face and you laugh, it doesn’t take much to get him worked up. being the tease you are, you give your boobs a nice squeeze. why not give him a little show?

your hands rub his thighs, slowly making their way up to unbuckle his belt and take off his pants. choso eagerly lifts his hips to let you pull his pants and boxers down his legs, and it’s laughable how excited he is.

you take his cock in your hand, quietly admiring the length and girth. it’s almost like he grew from the last time you saw him. you always heard about how nerds like him were packing, but you just thought it was a joke.. that was til choso proved you wrong of course.

his clear arousal leaks from the head of his dick and you can’t pull yourself to look away. without another thought, you lean forward and stick your tongue out, licking the precum that slid down his shaft and up towards the tip, swiping your tongue across the opening, collecting the salty liquid straight from the source. your pretty lips wrap around it and your cheeks hollow slightly while you circle your tongue around his tip.

choso groans and instinctively bucks his hips up. never did he think the guys he saw in porn were exaggerating when he watched a girl give them head, but he never expected it to feel so good. or maybe it just feels so good because the pretty girl he’s crushing on is the one who’s on her knees doing it to him.

you pull off his cock and lick the corners of your mouth as you eye the glistening head of his dick. your hands reach back and undo the clasps of your bra, letting your heavy breasts free as you pull the bra straps down.

choso’s eyes are locked on your every move and his lips part slightly as he watches you reveal your breasts to him. he’s never seen something so beautiful in his life.

“… so pretty.” he whispers more to himself, but it’s loud enough for you to hear.

the corner of your lips curl yet again as you glance up at him. “of course they are, dummy.”

you toss your bra onto the bed and reach for the bottle of lubricant, spreading the lube along his dick before taking one breast in each hand and nestling choso’s cock in between your chest.

choso nearly melts from the warmth that your boobs bring, then you start moving them up and down his length and it feels like heaven.

like the first encounter with you did. a pretty girl with her tits wrapped around his cock.. damn. not to mention the occasional moments when your tongue comes out and flicks over the opening. he can’t help but feel truly blessed.

you can’t miss the way choso’s face twists in pleasure with each drag of your breasts up and down his length even if you wanted to. the soft pants and groans that leave his parted lips have caused a sticky mess in between your legs, making your panties latch onto your wet cunt.

it’s not a surprise to you that choso busts quick, someone like him obviously would. his face is a dead giveaway, and so are his mannerisms and how his knuckles are white from gripping his comforter. he came fast the last time and in a way you find it oddly charming how quickly this nerd cums. what does surprise you though, is when he opens his mouth and starts to beg.

“please… please. can i t-touch them?” he whimpers, the desperation in his voice is clear. “i-i won’t ask for anything else.. just please.”

he looks down through his heavy eyelids, silently pleading with you, and you’ve got to admit that it’s hot. you bite your lip and make a small noise of approval, stopping what you’re doing and reaching for his hands to put them on your breasts.

his large hands squeeze the soft flesh, really feeling and savoring what it’s like to have a nice pair of tits beneath his palms before his hips jerk as he holds your boobs, fucking your chest.

“ohhh.” choso whines, “can i please cum? need... need your permission.” he doesn’t care how vulnerable he sounds, he just wants to hear you give him your approval.

and here you are again, finding yourself so turned on by his words that they’ve got your pussy clenching. you can’t let on that you’re having a change of heart towards him though, so you scoff. “what the fuck are you asking me for you fucking freak? of course you can.”

leaning back on your hands slightly so you have a better view, you watch choso start to come undone right in front of you. his eyes are squeezed shut and his mouth hangs open, letting the whiniest sounds tumble out of his mouth that you’ve ever heard from a man. you can feel his trembling body come to pause as he halts his movements, a second later your tits are covered in his hot cum.

his limp body continues to lay against the bed and when he opens his eyes again, he finds you still on your knees in front of him. one of your hands is holding your chest while you pick up some of his cum on your finger with your other hand, sucking it into your mouth.

you feel his eyes on you and you repeat the action with a grin. his heart skips a beat and he fears you might be the death of him, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

after getting off the floor and back on your feet you grab a few tissues and wipe your face and tits before you make a random, split second decision. “keep the bra.”

choso almost chokes when he hears you say that. he opens his mouth to protest but he decides against it, knowing that whatever sharp response you say will get him hard again. you rummage around your bag before you pull out the spare bra you always carry. after all, a girl like you never knows what trouble she might get herself into.

choso watches you fix your appearance in the mirror and you catch his eye in the reflection, holding his gaze. “you know.. you’d look fine as hell if you got rid of those things.”

what ‘things’ do you mean?

choso is very obviously confused and you walk over to him with a smirk, yanking his glasses off his face and waving them in front of him. “these things, dumbass.”

you move closer to him and stand in between his legs, running a hand through his thick, dark locks. “you might actually be able to pick up bitches then.”

for some reason, you find yourself standing there staring at him for longer than you’d like to. you eventually let go of his hair and sigh, taking a step back and walking over to grab your bag, preparing to leave.

“what a shame.” you say quietly as you open the door to leave, and you truly do think it is a shame.

you’ll never admit it out loud, but maybe, just maybe, you’re starting to find that stupid little loser cute.

taglist — @cheezemanz @tojicvmslut

cleo’s note — i know some people are probably gonna ask for a part 3, but idk if i’ll keep this going so don’t get your hopes up 🥲. thank you for reading, feedback is appreciated!

[traveler-at-heart]

Sister, wife?

Summary: The team mistakes you for Natasha's sister when you first meet.

Request by @lynattyx

Loki again.

Thor seemed more annoyed than anyone else, but that was only logical. He had spent centuries putting up with his brother.

“Hey, don’t sweat it. Siblings can be a pain” Natasha tried to comfort him, while he looked ready to release a storm over Loki outsmarting him and escaping.

“Speaking from experience, Red?” Stark asked with a curious stare.

“Got a sister” Natasha shrugged her shoulders, looking out the window of the Quinjet as if she hadn’t said anything interesting.

“Really? What’s her name?” Steve said, intrigued.

“I won’t tell you, because if I say it three times you’ll summon her. That’s a reference from…”

“Yeah, I got it” Steve nodded. “I didn’t really like that Beetlejuice”

“That’s because you hate fun” Tony said, stepping forward. “Alright, we have a signal. Anyone up for a cigar? Loki’s close to Cuba”

—

“Lay low. That’s pretty much all you can do now” Maria said with a somber tone over the comms.

Loki had gone a little too far this time, almost getting half of Havana blown up.

Needless to say, the US wasn’t happy with the diplomatic mess the Avengers had created. Maybe that was Loki’s plan all along; make it impossible for them to go after him with the American government on their backs.

Well, he got what he wished for.

“I don’t suppose we can go to the Compound, then” Tony mumbled. “Barton, Red? Any ideas?”

“Coordinates are set. We’ll be there in a few hours. Try to get some sleep. All of you”

No one was in the mood to ask questions. If Natasha said it was a safe place, then they’d take her word for it and be done with the matter.

“You sure about this?” Clint said, looking at her from the copilot seat.

“Yeah. She’ll just give me a hard time for not telling her in advance. You know how she likes to have everything extra clean when there are guests”

“How did you manage to score such a gal?” he joked and Natasha glared at him.

“Hey, I’m a catch. My mac and cheese is delicious”

“Whatever you say, Tasha”

—

The Quinjet landed, and the only way you could tell was by the tree branches moving with a sudden gust of wind.

“Hey” Natasha said with a coy smile, going up the steps as the rest of the team got off the jet, looking around curiously.

“Welcome home” you pulled her into a hug. “Should have told me they were coming, and I could have cleaned up a bit”

“I missed you too” she joked against your ear, and as she was about to lean and kiss you, Tony interrupted the moment.

“Hey, Romanoff and Romanoff”

“You must be Tony. I’ve heard a lot about you”

“Have you? Because Natasha here didn’t tell us much about you”

“She was probably worried about you running your mouth” you joked, making him smirk.

“You have heard about me”

As Steve walked in, Natasha waited for Clint to show him something she wanted to fix in the garage.

The house was big and in the middle of a little wooded area.

“You’re gonna have to share rooms. And someone will sleep on the couch” you warned them.

“Not it” Tony said, as you pulled out a pillow and a blanket from the closet.

“I’ll take the couch” Steve offered, which of course he did. “Thank you…”

“Y/N” you nodded, waiting for Tony to follow you.

“Barton? Thor?” he looked around.

“Oh, Clint’s probably scolding Natasha because she didn’t fix the ceiling like he told her to” you laughed. “Thor flew away like thirty seconds after landing. And burned part of my lawn in the process”

“So sorry about that. It’s quite the thing to hang out with these brutes. So, uh, what do you do?”

“I’m a Psychiatrist” you answered, opening the door to the guest room.

“Get to see Natasha a lot?”

“Not as much as I’d like”

“Come by the Compound anytime you like. I’ll send you a pass or shall I just say your name three times?”

“What?” you tilted your head in confusion.

“Nothing. Thanks for letting us crash” he rubbed his neck.

“Sure. Get some rest”

You ran into Clint as he went upstairs, knowing his way around the house.

“She’s outside”

“Is she… is she ok?” you said, sighing. It was one thing to see it in the news, and another one to know she was out there risking her life against literal Gods and aliens.

“Just tired” he assured you. “Seeing you will help. Have a good night”

“You too. Sorry to say you’re sharing a room with Tony”

“Ah, jeez” he groaned, making you laugh.

Steve was lying in the couch, restless. He waved at you shyly as you walked out, knowing Natasha was waiting in the porch.

Honestly? They were a nice bunch.

“Hey” you said, stepping out.

“Hi, detka”

“You ok?” you said, leaning your chin against her shoulder, with your arms around her waist.

“Just tired”

“Funny, that’s exactly what Clint said”

Natasha chuckled at that, squeezing your hands.

“He knows me”

“I know you better”

“Do you, now?” she turned around, quirking up an eyebrow and smiling at you. “So, what do you think I want right now?”

“Cuddles with your wife and then tomorrow morning I think you’ll be in the mood for blueberry pancakes and hot cocoa”

“Damn, you do know me well” she laughed, kissing your temple. “Come on, let’s go to bed”

—

You were up next morning, and unsurprisingly, Steve had already been out and running a good ten miles.

“The rest?” he said after greeting you.

“Clint got up early to fix what Natasha broke trying to fix the other thing that broke, God bless his soul. Tony’s asleep and so is Nat”

“Really? Even Romanoff? She’s up at break of dawn”

“Nah, not when she’s home. Now clean yourself up, breakfast is almost done”

“Yes, Ma’am”

Natasha was the first one down, as your room had a private bathroom. By the sounds from upstairs, you suspected the boys were arguing over who go to use the other restroom first.

“Hear that sound? Children. Ready for all that?” Natasha said.

“Yeah, but ours will be cute. And we’ll make Clint build another bathroom” you said, getting a pancake out of the pan.

“You’re so smart, that’s why I love you”

“Only that?” you said, laughing as you felt her hands go around your waist.

“Among other things”

You turned around to protest, but her lips stopped you from saying anything.

“I did miss this” she said, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss. You moaned against her mouth, forgetting there were more people in the house until you heard Tony slam the door to the bathroom. Natasha went to get some coffee, and you wished she’d kept kissing you.

But the teasing would be endless if they caught you in the middle of it.

“Bathroom's all yours, Cap! Morning, Romanoffs”

“Morning, Tony” you said. “Help yourself to some pancakes and coffee”

“Delicious, thank you”

Steve came down a few minutes later, at the same time Clint walked in, announcing that he had fixed the thing.

“You’re a hero” you said, grateful. “Don’t worry, darling, you’ll get it right next time” you added as Natasha pouted.

“Mean”

“It comes with the territory, doesn’t it?” Tony said. “Including all the hair pulling and slapping and fighting for bras”

“Ah, what?” you said, confused.

“Hey, don’t speak to my wife that way, asshole” Natasha slapped the back of his head, making him choke on his coffee.

“Did you just say wife?” he turned to look between the two of you.

“Yes, Y/N is my wife. Who did you think she was?”

“The maid?” you joked.

“The sister!” Tony looked at Steve for backup.

“Well, to be fair… yeah”

“My sister’s name is Yelena” Natasha said, massaging her temples. “Y/N and I have been married for almost two years now. And I didn’t want you to know because you’ll be insufferable about it”

“Babe, they’ve been good so far” you chuckled, squeezing her hand.

“We can behave, honey boo” Tony said.

“Ok, yeah. I get it now” you rolled your eyes.

“Either way, you’re coming to our party” Tony said, poruing himself more coffee.

“When is it?”

“Whenever we get our hands on that Asgardian bastard”

“Language” you said at the same time as Steve.

“This is gonna be fun” Tony laughed, looking at you over his cup of coffee. “Welcome to the family, Mrs. Romanoff”

[miyuhpapayuh]

Right back.

“Hey, Cliff!”

Her deep wine stained lips catch his attention, before his eyes travel to her attire, making him lick his own.

Who knew blue and cheetah print went together. She honestly could pull off anything, and he never shied from telling her such.

“Always a pleasure, gorgeous.” He flirts, pulling her in for a hug as she inhales his heavenly scent like always. He thought it was cute.

“I missed you!”

“They always do,” he jokes, wincing at the slap she delivers to his arm.

“I'm joking,” he laughs. “I missed you too, girl.”

“Yeah, tryna play me like one of ya lil groupies,” she rolls her eyes.

“Never that. You know you was always my favorite.”

“Your favorite, what?” She raises a brow, waiting on his slick ass to answer.

He chuckles, his pink tongue chasing his toothpick around his mouth as he watches her grow a tad more impatient.

“My favorite lil boo,”

“Damn, how many you got?” She asks, not missing a beat.

He laughs again, earning another slap to the arm.

“Well shit, after you ran off on me,” he holds his heart, making her sigh, “I found somebody else to roll with for a bit, but it ain't last.” He shrugs.

“Aw, she was boring, huh?” She smirks.

“Ah, she was cool. Pretty, too. She was no you, tell ya that,” he winks.

“Nobody's me, Cliff.”

“That's what I missed, girl.”

“Mmhm… you really be telling people I ran off on you??” She asks, not forgetting what he had said.

“Nah, my people know it was mutual,” he assures, “I just wanted my moment.”

“I knew you had a little bit of sense,” she smiles, shaking her head.

“Ha ha. Anyway smart mouth, who got you out the house?”

“I like parties, sometimes! The host and I share a mutual friend and she passed along the invite. Plus who wouldn't wanna use an excuse to show some skin?”

“Mmhm, I told you, you looked good right?”

“Soon as you saw me,” she smirks. “But say it again.”

He chuckles, grabbing her hand to kiss it.

“You look better than Janet Jackson, girl.”

“Ooh, not Janet!” She giggles, swatting him as soon as he releases her hand.

“Shit, I'm serious. Tryna give me a heart attack and shit.”

“Mmhm, come make me a drink and maybe I won't cut you.”

A couple hours into her being in his presence and she was already in trouble.

If it was possible, he's even more fine! And whatever he had on, she was ready to lick it off.

Maybe she was ovulating or something, but she was ready to pounce on him.

“You make this outfit?” He asks, snapping her out of her daze.

“Of course, these boutiques don't have my taste!”

“Mm, and tasty you are.” He smirks, placing his blunt back between his lips.

“Don't start nothing, Cliff,” she laughs, crossing one leg over the other.

“Nothing I can't finish.” He responds, passing her the blunt.

“Well whatchu tryna do?”

He looks her up and down, before darkly chuckling.

“You.”

“Don't.. stop.. fuckin… me, babyyyy!”

Bent over the side of the couch with her skirt up and panties missing, she buries her face into the pillows below her as Cliff fucks her with the most deliciously bruising force.

“Mmf, I missed the fuck outta you, girl,” he grits out, smacking her ass a few times, smirking at his hand print on her brown skin.

“Fucckkk!”

“You missed me too, baby?” He asks, grabbing her neck from behind.

“Ye– yes!” She squeaks out, reaching back to grip his thigh, melting as he grinds into her.

Bending her arm to her back, he thrusts upward, finding what he calls the sweet spot.

Her muffled moans kick into high gear as her arch falters, making him taunt and coo at her.

“Right here, baby? Daddy hittin’ that sweet spot?”

Turning her head to the side to breathe, she whines and weakly nods as he moves his hand to her back, reinforcing her arch, precisely hitting her spot.

“Yes, right there… fuck, that feels s-so good!” She squeals, squeezing her eyes shut at the sensation overload.

“So good,” he moans back, speeding up and knocking the air from her lungs again, making her see stars a little earlier than she planned.

“B-baby, I'm c-cumming!”

“I got you baby, let it out,” he groans, almost following suit as she grips him tight, throbbing something vicious.

“Fffffuckkk,” she moans, squeezing her thighs together as he continues to dip into her sticky center.

“Keep that ass just like that,” his hips moving quicker, damn near making her eyes cross as she continues holding on for dear life with her free arm.

She wasn't even sure how she ended up folded up on his couch.

He just looked so good, yapping about how much he missed her. Couldn't get her and her sweet pussy outta his head.

Next thing you know, she was thanking god that he lived in a house and not an apartment, cause no way they would have went without a noise complaint.

“Who you fuck when I was gone?” He asks, swatting her ass.

“He wasn't you,” she whines.

“Mm,” he pulls her up from the cushion, while still stroking her, “he wasn't, huh?”

Her fingers are now curled around the pillows, as she fervently shakes her head. His hands grip her waist tightly, keeping her in place.

“He couldn't fuck me like you do,”

“Mmm,” he growls right into her ear, making her eyes flutter shut. “He don't get up in them guts like me?”

“Deeper, baby, deeeper,” she moans as he bottoms out and sits there, driving her crazy.

“Where's it at?”

“In my chest,” she breathlessly laughs, making him do the same before moving his hips again.

“Oh, that's my spot,” she moans, biting into her lip as his hand finds her neck, bending her backwards a bit.

“Couldn't find them spots either, hm?” He teases, listening to the way her slick sounds against the slapping of his dick.

“N-noo, fuck! Oh my goodness, that's so good!”

“So good, you gon cum for me, baby?”

“Yess, don't stop!”

How many times did he make you cum?”

“Onnnce,” she ends on a hiss, eyelids too heavy to hold up anymore as the pleasure begins rushing up her toes.

“What a shame.” He says, smirking like she can see him.

Pounding into her a bit harder, she reaches back to grip his thigh, cursing up a storm as she wets up his lap.

Moving his other hand from her hip to her hair, he continues on, making her stomach knot back up.

“Ohmygo–fuck, fuckkk,”

“Cummin’, again?”

“Yes!”

“Wet that shit up,” he commands, smacking her ass again.

She'd lost count of how many times he made her cum, barely able to formulate a coherent thought at this point.

He had a point to prove and was past the point of driving it home. This was torture.

“C-can't take it!”

“Why not?”

“T-tooo much!”

“Too deep?” He taunts, dipping into her shallowly.

She whines at the difference, pushing back on him.

“Nooo!”

“Mhm, come on,” he moves her to straddle him, spreading his arms out on the back of the sofa, while she roams her hands up and down his massive chest.

He let her do her thing as she rocks her hips, sliding up and down with ease, due to how wet he had her.

She watched as his head fell back, his favorite curse word falling from his lips like a chant every time she came down, squeezing him on the way back up.

“Fuuuuck, sweet ass pussy…”

“You missed it, daddy?”

“Mmf,” his heavy hand comes down on her ass, “more than anything, baby.”

Turning her up, she begins bouncing, smirking at his tightening grip on her ass. The squelch of her juices echoes off the wall, along with his grunts.

Next thing she knew, she was holding onto his broad shoulders as he fucked her while standing up, rutting her up and down on his dick.

Her head lolls about like it's independent from her neck, her nails dig into his back as he rocks her absolute world.

“Fuck! Can't st-stop cumming!”

“Good,” he grunts, “don't you fucking stop,”

Their skin slaps roughly as he lifts her with ease, splitting her so deep and delicious, making her holler like she lacks all sense.

Her thighs are tightly wrapped around him, ankles loose and twisting at the intense pleasure rushing through her veins.

Her screams and howls of pleasure gradually fade into hoarseness, as he carts her off to his bed, where she's laid on her back, gagging as he fucks her face.

Heavy hands braced on her throat, he stares down at her teary eyes and winks.

“Can't forget that sweet mouth,” he groans, squeezing his knuckles against her skin.

She purrs back at him, slinking her hand between her legs, rubbing at her soaked slit.

“Look atcha,” he chuckles, smacking her ass, “rub that pussy while I bust all in this throat.”

Her fingers found a sinful rhythm, while he rutted away, digging his free hand into the sheets as he released.

“Mmmmm,” she moans at his taste, stroking him with her free hand, her tongue still swirling around his sensitive tip as her fingers slip through her slimy folds.

“Fuck, baby… shit,” he jerks, smacking her hand away as he steps back, shaking his head at her.

She flips over on her stomach, staring up at him. Still hungry for more.

"Definitely ain't done with that ass," he says with a laugh.

@megamindsecretlair @blowmymbackout @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @henneseyhoe @abeautifulmindexposed @blackerthings @dbaileyblog @theereina @dabratzchronicles @starcrossedxwriter @soufcakmistress @xo-goldengirl @avoidthings @nayaesworld @thegifstories

[arbitrarykiwi]

Hiiii I was wondering if you had any thoughts about mean nam gyu :3 holding your head down into the pillows and plowing you from behind even when you cry!!! And like trying to reach behind you to slow him down and he just grabs your arm 😵‍💫 sheesh I just know he can fuck someone through the mf mattresss I’m like going insane

You Can Take It

do I have any thoughts about mean namgyu??? OH BOY DO I!!!! Lemme tell you when I got this request I was jumping for JOY!!! I could not stop thinking about it. I just know, I FEEL IT IN MY SOULLLLL, that this man could fuck you dumb into the mattress EASY!! He definitely also has a huge thing for fucking you until you cry

Warnings: smut (18+), in the squid games, rough sex, fucked dumb!Reader, exhibitionism (fucks you in the main room) choking, spitting, oral (m and f recieving), deepthroating, name calling (slut/whore), dirty talking, dacryphilia (he fucks you till you’re crying), read at your own risk

You found yourself pulled into a group with Thanos, Nam-gyu, Semi, and Min-su. It wasn’t really your idea, you remember after the first game, and after you voted to continue playing, Nam-gyu had approached you.

Well approached isn’t very fitting. He had grabbed your wrist as you were passing by, pulling you back to him. He simply said, “You’re sticking with me. You’re mine.” And you weirdly agreed.

You hung around him and the rest of the group from then on out. He was super touchy- always wanting to be near you but…he was also mean. He would scoff at anything you said. Try to argue with you over the smallest things. But then he would ruffle your hair, rub his thumb against your cheek to calm you down after the second game. It was weird. But hey, you needed all the people in your corner you could get.

During the game of Mingle, after multiple rounds and the players getting increasingly frantic as tensions rise, the group number was 3. When Thanos grabbed Min-su and Nam-gyu into his side you were sure you were going to die.

You were pulled away by a stray group of two men, rushing you to a door. You never got to see how Nam-gyu was fighting out of Thanos’ grasp to try and team up with you.

When the game was said and done you found yourself hurrying back to the purple hair you caught in the crowd- because where Thanos was, Nam-gyu would also be. After the game all you found yourself wanting was to be near him. It was weird. You figure the trauma of this hellhole made you bond to him in some odd way.

He was colder than usual, he allowed you to be near him, to lean on him. It was embarrassing, really. All you wanted was some sort of comfort or attention, a hand on your shoulder or even a him ruffling your hair like he normally did…but nothing.

So eventually when lights out came around, you made your way to your bunk. You sat down on the edge of it, looking down at the concrete and your white shoes- well used to be white now they are a sick red color. Dried blood. You stand up and begin kick off your shoes, stretching once done to try and ease the ache in your bones.

You straighten up when footsteps approach. The lights dim but you can make out the bold white ‘124’ of the jacket patch. “Nam-gyu?!” You ask in a whisper, surprised.

“You really are dumb aren’t you?” He growls, taking steps closer to you. His gaze is dark, angry. It’s also mixed with something you can’t pin point. Your face turns into a scowl, moving to back up with each step he takes towards you. “I’m not dumb.” You retort, “What the fuck are you even on about??” You say in a hushed voice.

“That stunt you pulled at the game today.” He says through clenched teeth, backing you against your bed, the back’s of your knees hitting the sides of the metal frame, nearly making you fall down. “What part of sticking with me do you not understand?” He growls, his face a few inches from yours.

Before you can even think to move one of his hands grabs your face in a bruising grip. It hurts, you’re sure he could break your jaw if he wanted to. You suck in a shaky breath, he’s so close, the metal of his rings sting your skin in an ice cold bite, was he always this hot?

What the fuck are you thinking??

You shake your head of the thought and furrow your eyebrows, realizing what he meant. “It was 3 to a room. You and Thanos had Min-su.” You hiss out, “I was also grabbed- pulled away. I wasn’t about to fight it and get myself fucking shot.” You growl out, was he really that serious?!

Ever since you he pulled you into their odd group he wasn’t the friendliest to you. It was weird, he was oddly protective but he would only ever scoff or mock anything you said. Sure he said ‘you’re sticking with me, you’re mine’, but with how he treats you, like you’re an annoyance for joining the group- why the fuck would he care if you went another group during Mingle.

“I told you…” he growls out in a low hushed rumble, tilting his head to look at you better. In the light that seeps through the windows of the doors at the front of the room you can see him taking in every bit of your face, his lower lip caught in his teeth as he breaths in a breath. “…to stay with me. ‘N I would have thought you were smarter, could follow directions…” he whispers, coming closer so as he speaks his lips brush against yours.

You chock it up to the days of carnage around you changing you into a different person- because you have no idea why you’re not slapping him, you didn’t usually take shit like this and you’ve gotten into plenty of fights, you could fight him off. But you don’t.

Instead you find yourself feeling so very hot, a warmth beginning to blossom deep inside you; a feeling you know all too well. To say you’re a little ashamed is an understatement…but fuck, you might die tomorrow. That thought of death looming over your shoulder throws most of your dignity out the window. And you succumb to the delicious feeling in your lower stomach that you’ve been trying to fight.

“That being said I came to teach you a lesson.” He says, pulling back from you the slightest bit to look down at your lips- admiring how they’re slightly parted, allowing him to feel your shuddering breath against his skin. “I don’t like sharing what’s mine…and I’d say I’d made a good claim on you, told you, you were mine from the get go, yes?” He hisses in a hushed tone through his teeth. The tone of his voice, one you have never heard when you were around him before. It’s deeper, rougher, desperate even.

It has you speechless, thighs squeezing together without you even thinking about it. When you don’t respond his hand connects with your cheek. It’s not hard, it’s quick and sharp, a light sting to get you to focus. And as fast as his hand connects with the flesh of your cheek, it’s back to jaw in the same bruising grip as before.

“Y-yes you did.” You choke out, and he grins in response. “Thaatssss riiighhttt.” He draws out in a heinous, mocking tone. “So I think ‘s only fair that I teach you a lesson on how to properly fucking listen right?” His smile widens, his hand not on your jaw comes to settle on your lower back, pulling you against him.

You only bite your lip and nod, your hands grounding yourself on his chest. “Good.” He laughs, and then he’s on you in an instant. His lips collide with yours in a rushed, nearly frenzied motion. It’s involuntary, but you whine into the kiss.

His hand drops from your jaw, both hands moving under your jacket and shirt to grab at your waist. His hands were warm against your cold skin. You could feel the multiple silver rings, the metal nipping coldly at your skin.

He was unforgiving to say the least, the kiss had you incredibly hot. His tongue snaked its way into your mouth expertly, tasting all your mouth had to offer. You don’t even realize one of his hands has removed itself from your hip and has attached itself to your throat.

It’s a rough grip, enough to make you let out a choked gasp, eyes shooting open as he pulls away from the kiss. He can see the way your pupils are dilated from the way the dim light catches your eyes. He scoffs, “So pathetic…you enjoy this. You’ve been wanting this haven’t you?”

You open your mouth to speak but he interrupts, his other hand gliding across your waist and moving down your stomach, fingers dancing along the waistband of his sweatpants. “Mhm…” he lets out in a low growl, fingers untying the knot of your sweatpants stings.

“‘S all you needed, someone to set you straight. Probably so worked up because no one’s fucked you like the whore you really are…” his grin widens, his eyes never leaving yours, his hand on your neck squeezing; the other hand is dipping under the material of your track suit sweats and under your panties.

His hand splays across your pubic bone before running his long slender fingers through your folds. His eyes widen when he feels just how wet you already are. “Yeahhh….” He drawls out, almost in a hushed coo, “‘S exactly what you need, ain’t it?” His fingers rub against your entrance, playing with your folds for a couple seconds before gliding his fingers up and against your clit as he draws his fingers out of your pants.

He pulls his fingers up in front of your face, spreading them out so you can see your arousal web between your fingers in thick, sticky strings. You let out a strangled moan, it’s a silently sound due to the pressure on your neck.

He chuckles softly, bringing his fingers up to your open mouth and shoving them against your tongue- forcing you to taste yourself. Your lips instinctively wrap around his ringed fingers, sucking the digits into his mouth, tongue swirling around to clean his fingers off.

He hums in approval, “Trying to win me over, huh, sweet thing? Tryna be good…” he laughs, his fingers shoving themselves further down your throat. You gag around them, making him let out a low moan. “But it doesn’t work like that…no….you still have to be punished sweetheart….needa show you that I meant it when I said you are mine.” He rasps, a hungry, lustful look in his eye.

In a second he’s pulling his fingers from your mount and picking you up, tossing you onto the bed. He’s onto of you in a second, straddling over your form. His hand presses against your throat, just admiring how his hand look against you. It trails down your sternum, over the swell of your breast before gripping at it harshly through the material of your shirt and bra.

It has you arching up into him, a soft moan falling from your lips as a plea for more. He’s lifting his hand, grabbing the hem of your shirt and bunching it up, lifting it up above your bra. He sits back on your thighs, looking down to admire you.

“Prettiest set of tits I’ve ever seen..” he growls, hand not holding your shirt up working to pull down your bra. When your tits are out on full display he sucks in a breath, head diving down to capture a nipple into his mouth. He’s biting and sucking relentlessly, his other hand on your other breast kneading the flesh in his large hands.

It was a while since you felt any sort of attention like this and with the situation you’ve been stuck in the past couple days, it’s like an itch that’s finally being scratched. It’s like a massive weight has been lifted off your shoulders. You let out a large sigh, arching into him.

Your hands come up to entangle in his hair, trying to press him even further into him. His teeth and tongue are relentless, lathing over your hard nipple and working around suck bright red marks into your skin.

He pulls back with a wet ‘pop’, smiling down at you with the same wicked grin he’s had since this whole thing started. Like only he knows just how truly ruing you were about to be.

“I’m going to fucking ruin you…” he says scoffing down at you. “Going to fuck you dumb so all you remember is my god damn name.” He growls. Suddenly he’s moving off of you settling at the foot of your bed, kneeling, and as he moves he’s pulling you up into a kneeling position to mirror him.

“But can’t fuck you right now…” he growls, hands gripping your face, squishing your cheeks together. “No… that would be a reward not a punishment…” he chuckles, his hands drop to push down on your shoulders. You know what he’s trying to insinuate, you comply, sinking down onto all fours, facing towards him so his hard, clothed cock is directly in front of your face.

You look up to him, the look in your eyes making him laugh in a low, degrading tone. He’s gripping the back of your head and pressing your face into his erection. It’s filthy. He’s smushing your cheek against his cock, rubbing it up and down, the fabric of his pants feeling abrasive against your cheek.

“Just needed someone to set ya straight….no one’s ever put you in your place.” He hums down at you, you’re looking up at him with an angry glare but you’re not pulling away. “Awh…what’s that look for?” He laughs, “you’re jus’ provin’ my point sweetheart, you’re nothing but a brat who needs the attitude fucked out of ‘er.”

He’s pulling your head back far enough for him to grip at his pants and underwear pulling them down. His cock springs out, falling against your face with a hearty ‘plap’. You can’t help the gasp that you let out, both feeling it and seeing it for the first time.

His hand moves to the top of your head as he holds you still, his other hand on your cheek, using thumb to hold his cock on your face. He’s thrusting back and forth, dragging his thick length along your face. You hate that it makes you all the more hotter. You can feel the way your panties stick uncomfortably to your cunt, your arousal surly begging to soak through your track suit pants.

Yet you still look up at him with the same defiant expression, like you hated him. But he knew you didn’t. “Keep that expression, girlie. Just makes me harder.” He growls pulling his hips back. His hand that’s not holding your head grips the base of his dick, rubbing the leaking red tip over your lips. “Actin’ so mean and angry when you’re just achin’ to suck my cock ain’t ya?” And in response, you part your lips.

“Heh…yeah you are.” He muses lowly, pushing the head of his cock into your warm lips. He removes his hand from the base of his cock, grabbing the hem of his shirt in his hands and pulling it up out of the way. You keep staring up at him, watching as his head throws back and his chest heaves as he draws in a large breath.

He pushes his cock deeper, letting out a low groan as he draws his hips back the smallest bit to only sink back into the heaven that is your mouth. Your tongue flattens out, taking more of him in, relishing in the taste of him on your tongue. His hand that rests on the top of your head wastes no time to push you down the length of his cock. You let out a choked sound of surprise that only makes him laugh.

“You really thought I was gonna go easy on you? Are you that dumb?” He scolds, grinning down at you wickedly, your eyebrows furrow at his words, letting our muffled sounds of protest as you look up at him with a scowl- or the best one you can make with his cock shoved in your mouth. “Yeaaahhh…” he drawls out, “keep looking at me just like that…” he continues through gritted teeth as he pushes his cock further into your mouth, the bulbous tip beginning to press at the back of your throat.

You let out a muffled gag around his cock, the movement of your throat only allowing him to sink further in. Yet, he realizes your hands are still by your side- you’re not even bracing against him or trying to jerk off the length that’s not in your mouth.

“Ahh look at that. Maybe you are good for something if you can’t listen. Good fucking cock sucker ain’t ya?” He laughs, rocking his hips a couple times before pushing the back of your head hard- sinking your mouth all the way to the base of his cock, your nose pressed against his pelvic bone.

You gag around him, spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth, your eyes screwing shut. His hand that’s not on your head comes in contact with your cheek in a few quick, sharp, taps. “Oh no, open your fucking eyes and look at me.” He orders. You obey, your eyes opening, glaring at him from tear soaked lashes.

He tilts his head, beginning to pull you up and down his cock, making sure every time he sinks into your mouth, he’s sinking balls deep. His heavy balls hit against your chin with every thrust. “That’s it, looking at me so angry when you’re gladly taking my cock down your throat” He mocks, pushing you down so your nose brushes the dark hairs that surround his cock. You choke around him, muffled gags of protest just causing more spit to bubble up and escape your mouth.

He pulls you completely off of him, you’re turning away and coughing, spitting, using the back of your hand to wipe your mouth. His hand in your hair roughly jerks your head back to look at him. “Did I say you can get clean? You really don’t know how to fuckin’ listen.” He growls, before you can react, he’s spit directly on your face and shoved you back down on his cock.

You moan out around his cock, it pains you how much being used like this turns you on, but fuck does it feel so good. When you look up at him this time, your eyebrows aren’t furrowed in anger- but upturned in a desperate look as if you wanted to do nothing but please him.

“Thaatss it..” he growls, his words slurred, eyes trained on you as he fucks his dick impossibly deeper into your tight throat. “You just like being’ used, fucking slut.” He says chucking, pressing your face all the way to the base of his dick to make you choke again. “Say it, say you like it.” He says lowly, drawing his cock put your throat ever so slightly.

With watery eyes you try to speak around his cock, responding with an ‘I like it.’ But it just comes out as garbled chokes, the words hardly able to be made out but it’s exactly what he wanted. “Yeahhh you do, fucking bitch.” He says, thrusting his cock in and out of your throat in a brutal pace.

And you just take it. You can feel your cunt dripping in your pants, the sticky arousal that weeps out of you coating your inner thighs.

You’re sure the other players around you can hear the debauched, wet, sloppy sounds you were making as you suck his cock, taking him in so greedily despite the tears welling up in your eyes and the lack of breath available to you that his cock in your throat causes.

He reaches the hand that’s not in your hair down to cup your jaw, chuckling darkly has he hooks his thumb in the corner of your mouth. It makes you so embarrassed. It causes even more drool to slip out of your mouth and your mouth to ache even more than it does. “See, now you’re not looking up at me all pissy, just needed a cock in your throat to calm ya down.” He laughs, shaking your head side to side on his cock by the thumb that’s hooked into your cheek.

You whine out around his cock, your drool beginning to cover your shirt, the white fabric becoming visibly darker and beginning to stick to your skin. He pulls his thick length out of your throat, a large amount of bubbly spit being pulled away with it. You gasp, catching your breath.

“Bet you’re fucking soaked you slut. I just know choking on some cock gets ya’ all nice n’ sloppy.” You bite your lip and whine silently, you don’t want to agree but you know it’s true. Your panties are stuck so uncomfortably to your cunt, your arousal now soaking through your track suit completely- leaving a dark wet patch all over the crotch and inner thighs of the fabric.

He’s quickly turning you back around away from him and pushing you to all fours once again, his hand is pressing on your back forcing you into an arch. You can feel his hand run up your spine and grip at your hair.

Your face is shoved into the mattress, it’s rough, causing you to fall over with a choked whine ripping through your throat. He’s leaning over you, his thick cock grinding itself up and down the valley of your ass, his head right next to your ear. “I knew a whore like you would love to be manhandled, isn’t that right?” His words are a mocking, almost evil titter, hissing into your ear as his hips rock against your ass. You can feel his erection through his pants.

You’re infinitely glad that your bunk was one in the far corner of the large room, the shadows of the other bunks and the dark room shrouding what you know was surely about to happen. You know you’re horrible for even thinking this- but you’re also thankful that the many bunks around you weren’t all full, a large number of the people who used to surround you were killed off by the second game.

And he knew that. When lights out came, and he knew he had to teach you a lesson. He took his opportunity.

He’s hovering behind you, his hands running down your back, to your waist, and then your ass. His hands quickly move back up to the waistband of the tracksuit and pulling the material down your legs to be bunched around your ankles.

You try to turn your head to look at him but his grip on your hair tightens, it’s relentless and mean- you’re sure some strands of hair were ripped out. But it only causes your cunt to weep desperately, arousal only beading and dropping in thick, gooey strings onto the sheets.

“Nuh-uh..” he growls “you’re not calling the shots here.” He emphasizes his words has his hand pushes you deeper into the plush pillows. “You’re going to sit there, like the compliant slut you are. N’ you’re gonna let me use this sweet cunt, isn’t that right?”

The fingers on his other hand that wasn’t in your hair run softly over your ass, it’s a strange soothing motion. As his hand runs lower though, it’s soon apparent that the feather light, almost delicate motion was just to throw you off. His hand comes in contact with your pussy, giving it a hard slap.

You cry out, body jerking forward. His palm grinds into your clit, a delicious pleasure awarded after the sharp sting of the slap. “Fucking answer me.” He growls, his hand that’s manipulating your face to pull it out of the pillows some, allowing you to look at him.

“Y-yes, mhmm.” You whine out desperately, your head trying its best to nod despite his hold on your scalp. He lets out a low chuckle, feeling your hips push back into his hand. He got you exactly how he wants you. No more of that bratty attitude. No more talking back to him.

“No fuckin’ shame…just desperate to be touched” he chuckles out, sitting back up, his hand pulls back from your pussy, sticky ropes of your arousal stringing his hand to your cunt. “Haven’t even done anything and you’re drenched. That’s how much of a slut you are? Hm? Just so needy for some cock.” He mocks, his fingers running through your folds.

He’s simply addicted to the sight of your swollen cunt, desperate to take whatever he gives and just continuously spilling milky white arousal. The sheets below you are stained a darker color, a pool of evidence doing nothing to help your case.

You can only whine, “P-please, p-please.” You chant out and he only laughs. “You poor thing..” he chides, sitting up and leaning over you to smile wickedly at you. “You want it bad? Huh, sweet thing.” He says, his voice oddly softer, his hand gently brushing your hair back out of your face.

He looks at you tenderly, mirroring your pout. You nod, tears starting to build up in your lashes having been needing him inside you for so long. “Mhmm.” You hum out, rocking your hips against his palm that cups your pussy. “Want it so bad… wan’ you.” You mumbled out, looking up at him like some kind of doe eyed prey.

“Should have thought about that before you decided to be a fucking bitch.” And the wicked grin is back, he’s going to take his time with you.

His hands grip at the globes of your ass, letting out a low growl. He pushes forward, spreading you open nice and wide for him. You can’t help but to shiver when the cold air of the room hits your pussy. It’s embarrassing, you can’t see him but you know he’s just staring at your weeping hole.

“Such a cute lil’ pussy…” he hums out, making sure you can hear his words. Two of his fingers run up and down your cunt, lightly petting at your clit. You bite your lip, a muffled ‘mhmm’ coming out of your mouth as you feel his fingers touch exactly where you needed him.

“Doesn’t take much to get you dripping does it?” He says with a laugh. “Just running my fingers over your clit and being mean to you..” he says, pausing to spread his two fingers, moving your lips aside to show your clit fully. “..makes your little cunt cry f’me…” he says watching with a trained eye as a new thick, white drop of your arousal pushes out your entrants and runs down, collecting on your clit.

He hunches back over your arched form so his mouth is right by your ear. “How filthy can you be? I mean really, letting me use you like this…here? Sobering all over my cock and whining like a bitch in heat when my fingers are touching your pussy…do you not have any shame?” He rambles in a low gravely tone as his fingers just play with your puffy cunt.

It’s feather light touches that have you gripping the pillow and trying to push your hips back into his fingers for more. He just laughs at your desperation, pulling his hand back and siting back up so he can have a perfect look at you.

His hand pulls back from your sopping heat and he spreads his fingers, admiring how messy his hand already is. His palm and fingers glisten with your arousal, a wet shine that has his cock pulsating angrily in his pants. He wants nothing more than to sink balls deep in your tight cunt- but that’s what you want, and he can’t give you what you want.

He spreads you open, his hands gripping harshly at your ass, spreading you wide so he can truly see the mess he’s made of you. The stretch causes your back to arch, pushing your hips back towards him, calling out a weak cry of his name.

One of his fingers stretches to circle around your tight hole. It’s a light touch that has you shivering. It’s not nearly enough to drive you to the release that you desperately needed. His eyes are fixated on your pussy, fingers dancing along your entrance, watching as you clench and spasm around nothing.

“If I knew this is all you needed to set you straight…” he mumbles, a single finger pushes into your wet cunt, a moan is ripped from your lips as you finally get what you needed most. “…I woulda done this the first day here. Made sure you knew who you belonged to.” He rasps, his single finger beginning to pump in and out of you.

He’s entranced by the way his finger disappears in your tight heat to be pulled out covered in your milky white arousal. When he pushes his finger back in, feeling your tight walls suck him in, gushing even more syrupy wetness out, his tongue is licking at his lips.

“So tight..” he mumbles, his hand that’s nod busy fucking you still holding your ass, fingers clawing into your flesh to keep you spread open for him. “How are you even going to take my cock, pretty girl? Gonna have to get you ready, hm?” He coos at you as another finger begins to push into your entrance.

The stretch of his two fingers is enough to have you moaning out a choked call of his name. His fingers move expertly in you, scissoring themselves and working you open. You’re gushing around his hand, covering his pale fingers and knuckles with your wetness. It makes every thrust of his fingers into your cunt a noisy, sloppy wet sound resonates. Anytime his fingers slam back into you, another sob is wracked through your body.

His fingers spread themselves, opening your hole up to him. You can only whine and hide your head in the pillows, you don’t think you’ve ever been this vulnerable and for some reason you’re allowing it to happen at the worst time and in the worst place. You can hear a low, gravely rumble come from his throat when he watches your pink cunt gape around his fingers, entranced at the way he can see your cunt try to clench around his fingers that hold you open for him. He leans in and you feel like you’ve been electrocuted when his tongue dives deep into your pussy between his spread fingers, licking around your walls like he’s already addicted to the saccharine taste of your cunt.

He pulls back with an obnoxious slurp that has you whining in embarrassment. He sits there for a moment, basking in the taste of you on his tongue. And you’re fucked, because he thinks it’s better than any high he’s had. No drug rush could compare to the euphoria the taste of your cunt gave him.

He’s on you in an instant, mouth engulfing your cunt and sucking your clit into his warm mouth. It’s filthy. His nose is pushed into your entrance, rubbing into you and sniffing like a dog. When he releases your clit, his is tongue laps at you in large encompassing licks, you can tell it’s not for you but for him. It’s like he’s drunk off your arousal. Every loud, obscene slurp and shake of his head has you crying out, your hips circling back onto his face.

You can tell he’s truly just eating you for the sake of tasting you, teasing you relentlessly by never running directly over your clit. He’s around it, tip of his tongue just millimeters away from when you needed it most but he never gave you that sweet release. Every bit of arousal that spills from your abused cunt is swallowed greedily by him.

You shake and writhe against him, fingers tearing into the bedsheets as you try to catch your breath. But he never lets you, so just have to sit there and choke out sob after sob as he slurps at your pussy.

When he pulls away you cry out, trying to push your hips back, seeking out the solace that was his tongue. He’s standing back up and placing his hefty cock against your ass, still wet with your spit from taking him down your throat it allows him to slide easily between your ass cheeks. He’s humming to himself, the image of your perfect ass underneath his aching cock. The plush of your ass squeezing against the side of his length as he rocks against you.

“You gonna stick with me from now on, sweetheart. Gonna fuckin’ listen?” He says, his voice softer than usual. You can hardly form a coherent thought let alone string together an answer. You nod your head dumbly. He growls, his hand connecting with your ass in a painful smack, hard enough to imprint his hand into your flesh, the skin becoming red and raised. You keel over moaning out a broken sound that was probably his name- it was so shaky and wrecked you couldn’t tell.

“Use your words. C’mon now I haven’t even fucked you yet and you’re already acting like a dumb whore.” He says in a low rasp, hand smoothing over the area that’s raised in the shape of his palm. “Y-yes I will…” you sob out, pushing back against him. “‘M yours!” You whimper, turning to look back at him.

He raises an amused eyebrow, “ohhhhh….” He says in a sweet coo, gripping your ass roughly with both hands, “That’s it, didn’t even have to ask you to say it…good fucking girl….”

He’s suddenly drawing his hips back and lining up with your dripping hole. He’s pushing in without any restraint, bulling his fat cock into your cunt until he’s balls deep. You’re sobbing out into the pillow, it doing little to muffle your wrecked sounds. He’s so fucking big it feels like you’re being split in half. You feel him so deep inside you, you feel like he’s going to permanently etch the shape of his cock into your walls.

His head is thrown back, his hands gripping into the plush of your ass, nails breaking skin. The heaven that is your tight cunt granted him just what he needed to get him through these games. You’re so wet and so warm and you’re squeezing him So. Fucking. Tight.

“Knew this sloppy cunt would be perfect f’me.” He hisses as he begins to slowly draw his hips back. The drag you feel when his thick length pulls out of you is intense, it has you nearly sobbing into the pillow below you.

And just when you think you’ve adjusted to the violent stretch that he imposes on your cunt, his hips begin to pound into you. You’re surging forward, biting your lip so hard you’re sure you’re drawing blood as you try to keep quiet. It’s useless though, the wet sounds of skin slapping on skin and the thick smell of sex is enough to give you two away regardless of the noise you make.

He’s fucking brutal. Both hands are releasing your ass and moving up to your head, his thumbs are overlapping each other while his other fingers tangle into your hair. He’s shoving your face, hard, into the thin pillow of your bunk, every sharp thrust of his cock deep into your swollen cunt has you surging forward on the bed. You can’t even move, not one bit, the two hands on the back of your head pushing you down so hard you can’t even twist your head. All you can do is sit there and take it.

Your cunt is gushing around him, every thrust of his hips sound off a wet sloshing sound. “Making a mess out of my cock you filthy fuckin’ thing.” He growls, positioning his hips into you at a pace that has you seeing stars. Every time his balls slap against your clit, pushing his thick cock deep into your tight walls, the tip of his cock pounds against your cervix. “Can you hear your sloppy cunt?” He muses into your ear, his hips drawing out slowly and jackhammering back into you in long, deep thrusts, making sure you hear every wet squelch of your pussy.

It’s a punishing force that makes you begin to sob out, your hips driving back to meet his thrusts pathetically as tears begin to well in your eyes. His hand pulls your head off the pillow the slightest bit, using your hair to yank your head to the side- shoving your head back down into the pillows with a harsh movement of his hand when he maneuvers your face where he wants it.

When he sees your face streaked with tears and your lashes clumped in wet bunches a wicked and sadistic grin creeps across his face. “Oh!? You fuckin’ cryin’?” He laughs, his thrusts becoming even harder, the wet slap of his pelvis against your ass becoming so rough it nearly stings every time he connects against your ass. “What happened? Thought you could take it. You’re a big girl aren’t you?” He mocks.

You can’t even speak to respond, you’re quite literally being fucked dumb. All you can do is cry and take it. It felt so fucking good but it was too much. His hands still at the back of your head, fingers gripped tightly to your hair and using it to drag you back into him, it leaves you no where to run.

You reach back behind you, your hand trying to push at his torso, crying out a choked moan, “H-holy fuck! P-please ‘s too much.” You beg your hand desperately pushing against his stomach, though it does absolutely nothing to stop the relentless jackhammering of his hips. He just scoffs, adjusting himself quickly, his hands grabbing both your wrists and crossing your arms behind your back.

“Nuh-uh you’re not running away from me, you’re going to fucking take it.” He growls. He’s able to hold both your arms behind your back with one of his large hands, his grip was definitely going to leave purple and blue hues on your skin. His other hand is back on your head, grabbing a fist full of your hair and hauling you upright- your back flush with his chest, “Gonna. Take. Every. Fuckin’. Inch.” His words are punctuated by long, deep strokes up into your cunt that split you open. When he finishes his sentence he stills balls deep inside you, grinding his cock into your cunt.

Tears soaked your face, your eyes were red and puffy, and raw pussy was still being abused by his thick length that grinds slowly in you. You let out a sob, your face turning to the side to try and look back at the absolute beast of a man that was fucking you dumb. His hand releases your hair, coming up to latch onto your throat.

He hooks his chin over your shoulder so he can look at your face, when he sees your tear stained faze, drool covered lips and hears the pathetic breathy whines that flip between ‘too much’ and ‘harder’, he lets out a deep moan that makes your body shake against him. “You look so pretty cryin’ f’me.” He muses, the hand on your neck trailing up your jaw so two of his thick fingers could push themselves into your mouth.

He presses his fingers deep into your mouth, pressing on your tongue and holding your jaw open. Drool just pours out of your mouth, dirtying the white shirt you still had on even further. It was sticking to your skin, the warm, wet damn fabric becoming see through as you keep messily babbling around his fingers.

“Just taking whatever I give you,” he hums happily at your debauched state, “Messy fuckin’ girl, you just love getting fucked dumb by me don’t you?”

Your eyebrows are upturned and you nod in response as you try to thrust your hips back to get him to begin pounding into you again. “You think you deserve to cum?” He’s mocks, his hips slowly driving up into you in short thrusts. He finally removes his hand from your mouth for you to respond. You look at him, your eyes desperate, “F-fuck yes…please. I need to-“ you choke out a whine when he begins to slowly pick up his pace, “I-i need to cum. Ohmygod please!” You babble.

He stares at you for a moment taking in your fucked out state. Usually you were so bratty, so defiant, a scowl or quizzical look always on your face- not now. No, now you’re looking at him like he’s got your life in his hands, like you’re utterly devoted to him and that’s what exactly what he wanted.

“Mhm…yeaahh…” he hums, leaning over to kiss you, it’s slow and meticulous, a drastic contrast from the erratic way his hips hammer his cock deep into your pussy. “You look like you deserve it now, go ‘head and cream on my cock you slut. Let everyone here know who makes you feel like this.” He murmurs in a low, tantalizing voice.

His hand drops from your neck to your clit, rubbing furious circles around the neglected bundle of nerves. You’re straight up sobbing now, it’s so fucking much. His fingers on your clit, the relentless way his thick cock abuses your cunt, and the way he’s dragged out your release for so long makes you cum so hard your vision goes dark.

You’re gushing around him, crying out his name as he uses his hand still holding your arms behind your back to drive you down onto his dick, riding out your orgasm. He’s following right behind you, the way your cunt spasms around him, like a vice that’s trying to suck him in and keep him there, makes him cum deep into your pussy.

“Gonna cum so fucking deep in your slutty cunt..” he growls out. You fall limbless against him shaking as you feel him pump you full of his thick cum, and as he gently thrusts up into you, riding out his own orgasm, you can feel it being pushed out of you. There’s so fucking much. And he’s letting out the most beautiful sounds in your ear as he cums and cums, hitched breaths and low groans of your name spill out of his lips.

Both of you are breathless, he holds you against him, rocking his softening cock into you a couple times before pulling out. You hiss from the movement, the absence of his cock filling your pussy makes you feel so empty now. Before you can look back at him to say anything, he’s pushing your arms into your back and forcing you to fall back forward.

His hands are back on your ass, spreading you for him so he could see the mess he made of you cunt. Your whimpering and writhing against the sheets, any sort of stimulation of your pussy is overstimulating. “Quit complaining.” He growls, eyes entranced by the look of your abused cunt- red, raw, puffy and covered in a mix of your arousal and his cum that was pushed out of you. He grins to himself hands massaging inwards, pushing towards your pussy, you moan out, hands gripping the sheets desperately.

His movement causes his huge cum load to begin to drip out of you. The feeling is filthy, you’re whining and shaking against his touch. His fingers move to scoop the large glob of his cum that was dripping out of you, two fingers intruding into your pussy to fuck his cum back into you. “If you were as good as I thought you were you would have kept it all in and we could have avoided this, sweetheart.” He laughs.

“But you-“ you go to talk back, to rightfully blame him for making it spill out of you but he cuts you off by removing his fingers and dragging his tongue up your cunt once before pulling back. “Enough of that.” He scolds, a hand smacking against your pussy.

He scoots back and works so haul your pants and underwear back up your body. “Gonna keep these on the rest of the night, you’re gonna sleep with my cum leaking out of you like the whore you are…” he growls, leaning back over your arched form so his lips are right by your ear “Then tomorrow you’re gonna meet me in the morning for the next game and stick by me…isn’t that right?”

You nod and look up to him. He places one last kiss on your lips, it’s oddly soft compared to the rest of what just occurred. He’s brushing your hair out of your face and pulling away slowly. He doesn’t waste time, he’s hauling himself off your bed, tucking his soft cock into his pants and headed back over to his bunk.

You collapsed into jelly on your bed, finally beginning to catch your breath. You couldn’t think, your head foggy, the only idea in your mind was the one that involved immediately going to Nam-gyu’s bunk in the morning. Maybe he’d reward you for listening so well.

If what just happened was a punishment you could only excitedly imagine what his reward would be.

OH M GEEE this was so scrumptious to write. I hope yall enjoyed!!! Requests are still open im makin my way through them slowly but surely! I also wanna start letting yall know what requests I got cookin up next everytime I post a request

Next up I got more thangyu content!! First I got one just about the general dynamics of the relationship out of the games (gonna be sfw with little nsfw snippets)

Then… you guessed it MORE THANGYU!!! It’s gonna be them passing’ you around like a blunt, complete nsfw

After that…MORE THANGYUUU BABY!! I got a wonderful ask for a thicc!reader x thangyu smut with double penetration and lots of love for thighs n tummy’s

Thank you guys as ALWAYS!! Your support means the world - <3 kiwi

[nerdycheol]

Hint. Hint. HINT!!!

Pairing: Lee Seokmin (DK) x Reader

Genre: College AU, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Crush

WC: ~2.5k

Lee Seokmin was either the dumbest person you had ever met or just truly, utterly clueless.

For months now, you had been dropping hints—glaring, neon-sign-worthy hints—but he still hadn’t caught on. It was ridiculous. Actually, no—it was painful.

How else were you supposed to let him know you liked him? Spell it out in the sky? Get a marching band to parade through campus?

Today, you were determined to make it even more obvious.

Hint #143: Movie Night

“You know,” you started, casually scrolling through Netflix as Seokmin sprawled out on your dorm bed beside you, “watching a movie together like this is basically a date.”

He snorted, grabbing a handful of popcorn. “Pfft, nah. Friends do this all the time.”

You shot him a look. “Yeah, but do friends do this?” You shifted closer, resting your head against his shoulder.

Your heart thumped. Any second now, he’d get it—he had to.

Seokmin, the human golden retriever that he was, just hummed happily. “You’re so comfy, Y/N.”

You closed your eyes. “Seokmin. Be honest. Are you acting dumb or are actually dumb?”

He blinked. “What?”

You sat up, exasperated. “I’ve been dropping hints left and right, and you—” You pointed at his forehead. “Are. Not. Getting. It.”

He looked genuinely confused. “Hints? What hints?”

You gaped at him. “Oh my god.”

---

Hint #157: Borrow My Hoodie

One of the surefire ways to get a guy’s attention was the classic borrow his hoodie move. So when you saw Seokmin in his oversized, soft-as-a-cloud hoodie one morning, you knew what had to be done.

You tugged at his sleeve as he sat across from you in the campus café. “Hey, can I borrow your hoodie?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Of course! Are you cold?”

Success.

You pulled it over your head, inhaling the faint scent of his detergent and something undeniably him. “Wow, this is so comfy. I might just keep it forever.”

Seokmin grinned. “That’s fine, I have others!”

You sighed. “No, Seokmin. This is where you’re supposed to say, ‘If you keep my hoodie, you have to give me something in return.’”

His brows furrowed. “Like what?”

“Like…” You leaned forward, staring into his very soul. “A kiss, maybe?”

For a moment, just a brief moment, something flickered in his eyes. Then he laughed. “Ohhh, that’s funny! You almost got me there!”

You groaned, flopping onto the table. Why is he like this?

---

Hint #200: The Almost Confession

Enough was enough. If he couldn’t figure it out on his own, you were just going to have to spell it out for him.

The two of you were sitting on the campus lawn after class, enjoying the golden sunset. Seokmin stretched, his shirt riding up slightly, and you nearly forgot your entire train of thought.

No. Focus.

You took a deep breath. “Seokmin.”

“Hm?” He turned to you, all bright eyes and sunshine.

“I like—”

RIIING.

His phone buzzed loudly, and he scrambled to answer it. “Oh! Sorry, give me a sec—hello?”

You closed your eyes, mentally counting to ten. Of course.

When he finally ended the call, he turned back with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

You exhaled. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

---

Hint #250: The Breaking Point

It was getting ridiculous. Everyone in your friend group knew you liked him. Even strangers could probably tell. Everyone except Lee Seokmin himself.

You decided to try one last time.

“Seokmin.” You stopped in the middle of the campus quad, grabbing his hand.

He blinked. “Yeah?”

“Do you think I’d make a good girlfriend?”

He tilted his head. “Of course! You’d be amazing. Any guy would be lucky to have you.”

You squeezed his hand tighter. “What if I wanted to be your girlfriend?”

Silence.

A beat passed. Then another. You watched as his brain visibly tried to process the words.

“…Wait. What?”

You groaned, pulling your hand away. “Seokmin. Oh my god.”

And then—finally—it clicked. His eyes widened, his mouth parting slightly in realization.

“Wait. Wait. Are you saying—”

“Yes!” you practically shouted. “I’ve been saying it for months!”

His face turned red. “You like me?!”

You threw your hands up. “YES, GENIUS.”

For a second, he just stared at you, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Then, all at once, his face broke into the brightest, happiest smile you had ever seen.

“You like me?” he repeated, this time with so much joy that your frustration melted away.

You rolled your eyes but smiled back. “Yes, Seokmin. I like you. And I’ve been trying to tell you this entire time.”

He laughed—loud, full, and infectious—before suddenly wrapping you in a tight hug. “I like you too! I just… I didn’t know if you liked me back.”

“You—” You groaned, resting your forehead against his chest. “Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable.”

Seokmin grinned, holding you tighter. “So… does this mean I get to call you my girlfriend now?”

You pulled back just enough to look at him. “You better.”

And finally, finally, Lee Seokmin got the hint.

Bonus:

Jeonghan sighed, watching from a distance. “Took them long enough.”

Joshua nodded. “I was starting to think we’d have to force them into a closet or something.”

Seungkwan shook his head. “Nah, even then, Seokmin would probably think it was just ‘friend bonding.’”

And honestly? They weren’t wrong.

[dualityvn]

Keith would turn to hypnosis or brainwashing to make us love him if he’s fully snapped…?

Could I maybe please request a drabble about that por favor 🥹

Sweet Vacation

CW: kidnapping, brainwashing, fork harassment

Word count: 1345

You ignored the first signs that Keith wasn’t doing well mentally. When he’d turn his back to you at night and sob silently, you’d pretend not to hear it. When he’d spend his evenings staring out the window for hours on end, eyes glazed over, you’d find things to busy yourself with. 

It did annoy you when he put a tracker on you. The fight that followed only made things worse. He became constantly paranoid, asking to hear your voice every hour you weren’t home, having breakdowns when you so much as left the room he was in. 

There was no doubt that he wouldn’t accept it if you tried to break up with him. You never bothered to start the conversation. You simply packed your things one day, blocked his number and left. 

Unfortunately, he’d used more than one tracker. 

- - -

You awaken to an unfamiliar hardwood floor, head pounding and limbs stiff. So stiff, in fact, that you aren’t able to move them. Your eyes shoot open as you tug on the ropes tying your limbs to the chair you're sitting in. 

The room you’re in is unfamiliar, a lavish living room with wooden walls and a large fireplace. A sweet, mind-numbing fragrance catches your attention. Possibly, the herbs burning in a bowl on the coffee table before you. All the curtains are drawn, so you fail to see anything outside. You can’t remember how or when you got here. 

The sound of footsteps approaching brings your attention to the closed door. Keith appears from behind it, looking much more frazzled and unkept than usual. His hair is a bit messy, he’s not wearing the usual concealer under his eyes and his collar is askew. 

“My love! You're awake!” He rushes over to you. 

“Keith! What the hell did you do to me? Where am I?!” 

He shushes you as he caresses your cheek. You want to scream at him, fight against your restraints, yank yourself away from his touch. But for some reason, as soon as those thoughts enter your mind, they fade away. 

“Everything's alright, dear. You're safe now. I'm sorry about the ropes, but there was no other way. I'll take them off once they're not needed anymore.” 

There is nothing sane in his gaze. His eyes are big and alert and his smile is too wide for comfort. 

“Where are we?” you ask, much calmer than you'd like. 

“Somewhere where nobody will bother us! Don't worry, it's just the two of us.” 

You don't know what he's done to you, but your fear, anger and alarm are all much too mild. 

“Oh! I've made you lunch! Let me grab it for you before it gets cold.” 

He rushes off through the door, then returns with a plate of food and a fork. The sight and smell of it makes your stomach grumble. For how long were you out? 

“I hope you like it! Open wide!” Keith holds some of it out in front of you. 

Thoughts of turning away or refusing the food pass through your mind, then leave just as fast. You reluctantly open your mouth. 

Even when he's crazy, he manages to make infuriatingly good food. You do not complain about being fed the entire plate. If you want to try to get out of this situation, you'll need the energy anyway.

“You ate everything! Good job!” he praises you cheerfully. 

Then, he looks down at the fork in his hand. His eyes flicker between it and your mouth for a moment. Until they eventually settle on you as he brings the fork near his face and licks the part that's been in your mouth. Once his tongue reaches the tips of the tines, he sticks them entirely in his mouth. 

You stare at him, dumbfounded. Before you can say anything about it, he sets the fork back on the plate and turns to leave. 

“I'll bring you a glass of water! Can't let you get dehydrated!” 

What the hell was that? How far gone is he? 

You finally get your brain to cooperate and attempt to struggle against your bindings. Unfortunately, they're tight and secure. Looking around, you can't spot anything sharp enough to cut them. 

When Keith returns, he's brought back not only your glass of water but also a small satchel. You eye it curiously as he helps you drink. 

And once it's done, he sets down the glass and opens up the satchel. It's full of herbs, some of which he places in the bowl with the others. That mind number scent hits you again. Any thought you'd had of escaping is beginning to blur.

As if reading your thoughts, Keith answers. “Just a little something to help you relax! I know you're probably quite stressed.” 

He puts the satchel away and picks up a book instead. “How about I read you something? That way you won't be bored!” 

You want to say no, you want to reason with him, ask him to let you go, convince him none of this is necessary. But none of it leaves your lips. 

“Okay,” you say instead. 

- - -

It's been two days since Keith locked you up in this house. He's fed you and kept you hydrated. When he's not been taking care of you, he's been keeping you entertained or simply chatted with you. 

Perhaps it's your fault you've ended up this way. You ignored the signs that he wasn't doing well. You weren't a very good partner overall. 

This morning he made you heart shaped pancakes with strawberries. It was kind of cute. 

Perhaps you don't need to escape, perhaps he will snap back to reality and release you himself. The two of you aren't good for each other. 

- - -

Four days have passed since Keith brought you here. He untied you from the chair but kept your wrist handcuffed to his to make sure you don't run away. 

It's a pretty nice vacation home. Apparently you're in the mountains. The view from the balcony is stunning. Although it gave you a bit of a fright when you woke up here four days ago, it isn't so bad. 

Keith still insists that you let him prepare meals, despite you being able to help now. You can't believe you treated him so coldly before. When he discovered you had bruises on your wrists from the rope, he cried and kissed them better. 

At night, when you get ready for bed, he asks if he can cuddle you. If you say no, he keeps his distance. When you do give him permission, he holds you tight and whispers that he loves you. He smells sweet, a bit like burnt herbs. 

- - -

It's been a week since the start of your little vacation. You took a walk through the forest this morning, hand in hand with your beloved boyfriend. He told you about the plants that grow here and which ones are safe to eat. He's so smart! 

When you got back, you made lunch together. He’s been a bit down and anxious the past few days, but today he was in good spirits. Though he still won't tell you where he got the new perfume he's been wearing. It's so sweet, it makes you want to hold him close constantly. 

Now that it's evening, you're both sitting on the couch, cuddling as you watch TV. Keith holds you against his chest, his chin resting on the top of your head. You feel safe here. 

“I love you,” you murmur. 

He stiffens at once. Thinking there must be something wrong, you pull away to look at him. A mixture of shock and joy battles on his features. 

“I love you too!” Tears are spilling from his eyes. 

You laugh and cup his face, holding it still so you can kiss away his tears. Your boyfriend is so sentimental. His hand brushes over your chin, silently asking you to lean down. His lips quiver against yours, soft and uncertain. You press in lovingly. 

Even the taste of his lips is sweet.

[aidansloth]

Late Nights On Kitchen Floors Sometimes Lead To Confessions

Summary: You come home late one night to find your roommate Jason sobbing on the kitchen floor.

Warnings and A/N: some negative self-thoughts on Jason’s side. In this fic Jason is feeling a lot of feelings :) because we love our men crying and traumatized. Pre-relationship! This is my first time writing for Jason so I hope I did him justice. Written in the second person, gender neutral reader, I tried to make reader as inclusive as possible so if I missed something please let me know! JUSTKNOW that my heart broke while writing this. (final note, I wrote this at 4am so don’t judge me)

Words: 0.9k

I also posted this on ao3 if you want!!

Click

You secure the last of the locks on your door as you start to take your boots off along with your coat. Immediately as you stepped in your mind went into autopilot, following your routine so effortlessly that only after what was definitely too many seconds do you notice a heaving sound coming from your kitchen. 

“Jason?”

The words leave your mouth with a tinge of hope that it was just him and not a break-in you’d have to deal with at this ungodly hour in the morning. You check the time with a flick of your phone. 2:14am. 

You receive no response and reach for the bat Jason insisted you left hidden in the umbrella stand. You can never be too safe were his exact words and you’d honestly have to thank him if you made it out tonight. It’s only when you cross the door that you see him: Jason and all of his 6 feet of muscles are scrunched up into a wavering ball, his hands clutching his clothes and his head planted into his knees. All this time you’ve known him and yet he has never looked as vulnerable as he does now, on your dusty crumble-covered floor with tears in his eyes. 

At first no words come out of your mouth, how could they? You’ve talked to Jason just a couple of hours ago on your phone, he called saying he just wanted to hear your voice. He was fine earlier. He was. He asked how your day was. He listened, hanging off your every word. But now here he was in front of you, a broken shell of a man.

Trying to not startle him you get closer and call out his name again. This time he hears you.

He lifts his head and you can see smudged tear stains all over his face probably from an attempt to erase them. An hiccup escapes him and your heart breaks. 

“Oh baby,” you scooch in front of him and take his face in your hands. 

“What happened? What’s wrong?”

He can’t speak. The words are jabbed in his throat, threatening to suffocate him. He opens his mouth but nothing other than a strangled sound comes out. You start petting his hair.

“Hey, hey, it’s fine, you don’t have to say anything alright?” 

You settle on the floor and try to maneuver his body onto yours, his head on your shoulder. His body adapts to yours, his arms wrap around you and he feels like everything is going to be alright. One of your hands runs up and down his spine in a soothing manner while the other is nestled in his hair. 

A couple of minutes pass and you’re still holding him. Jason thinks he likes it. Being held, that is. 

After some more time his head lifts from your shoulder and your hands move to his forearms, caressing the skin there. He takes a deep, shuddering breath before speaking.

“I, ehm…” Jason’s gaze lays low and his hands start to play with yours. “I have to tell you something.” 

You nod and tell him to take his time. He bites his lip, still looking down. 

“I- Fuck, I messed this up. I really did. This was gonna be so much more romantic I swear. I was gonna- I was gonna invite you to that one bookstore we always go to, I was going buy you all the books you set your eyes on and- and I planned a walk through the park- the one- the one you like-” his voice keeps breaking and hiccuping, “-and walk through the flowerbeds and maybe if the day had gone well I would have had the courage to hold your hand.” he wipes a tear off his face with the palm of his hand. 

You try to speak but he speaks first.

“I like you. I really really like you. I wanted to do this well, tomorrow, but- I don’t know. I got too much in my own head and I’m-” Jason bites his lip and tears fill his eyes again, “I’m really sorry this is how I confess, you deserve so much better, so much better and I’m a mess and, and-” you grab his face and force him to look at you. 

“Jason Peter Todd, you listen to me carefully.” his big teary eyes look at your stern ones, “The only reason I’m not kissing you right now is because you deserve a beautifully romantic first kiss because you like beautifully romantic things. You deserve all the wonderful things this world has to offer.”

Jason thinks his heart has never felt so warm. 

“Wha-what?”

His words make you giggle and now he thinks his heart might actually implode. 

“I like you.”

“I like you too.”

Now your giggle turned into a proper laugh which made Jason smile. 

“Yeah, that was pretty obvious from the earlier declaration of love.” Now he’s giggling too. 

“Does that ehm- does that mean you want to be my girlfriend?” You giggle again at the innocence in his voice and Jason thinks he’d die all over again just for a chance to hear you laugh one more time.

“Yes, yes it does. Only if you take me to that date you were talking about though.”

He smiles. “We could go now.”

Your eyes widen. “Now? At 2am?”

He shrugs. “I’m Red Hood. Nothing bad is gonna happen.”

You scoff. “Yeah alright, but I think the bookstore might be closed.”

“Ah. Right. Tomorrow then.”

“Eager?”

His smile only gets bigger. “Duh, I have a girlfriend to take out.”

Thank you for reading!! Constructive criticism/advice is always welcome!

[lesservillain]

strange lights masterlist

summary: new faces, old home.

wc: 7.8k

“I’d never given much thought to how I would die. But dying in the place of someone I love sounds like a good way to go.”

Hawkins is cursed.

If the countless murders and freak accidents over the years weren’t enough to convince a person, the perpetual overcast that deprived most of the town’s occupants of proper vitamin D should be enough to keep anyone out. The stark contrast in the sunny sky as you pass the Welcome to Hawkins sign would probably unnerve anyone traveling through. But you knew better, having lived here for the first 10 years of your life.

“Well, this is it.”

After driving what felt like an eternity into the woods, your father pulls up next to his police truck at the cabin that he calls a home. It was pitiful, but you could tell where repairs had been made, or rather an attempt was there. You wondered if they were rushed at the news of your arrival. You felt bad for only giving your dad a two week notice, but to be fair, so did your mother when she told you that her new husband was being stationed in Japan at the beginning of the month. David offered to let you move with them, but you’d declined, even if you weren’t too terrified of being in a plane over the Pacific ocean for any amount of time, you’d rather stay in a place you had somewhat of an attachment to. And if your dad had any objections to you coming to live with him he never made them apparent. 

Climbing out from the beat up two seater truck, you stretch wide, twisting at the waist to loosen your joints after the long car ride. “Wow,” you swoon sarcastically, pointing a thumb over your shoulder, “didn’t know you could afford such luxury on a police chief’s salary, Hopper.” 

“Har Har,” he says, pulling your bags from the back of his truck. He walks past you, voice echoing into the open woods surrounding you, “It’s got air conditioning and I pick up dish out here, so it’s good enough for me.” 

It doesn’t take long to get the little luggage you brought with you into the empty room. Well, it was almost empty, say for a punching bag hanging in the corner. 

“Thought you might get bored,” your dad laughs to himself, lips tugging at the corners on your own face as you shake your head. Before getting into your bags, your dad insists on going into town to eat. “Benny said he’s excited to see you.”

“Whose Benny?” you ask, brows pinched. 

“He owns the diner in town. Do, uh, do  me a favor and pretend you remember him, okay?” 

You shrug nonchalantly, “Sure. Anything I need to pretend to remember?”

He just laughs, pushing at your shoulder playfully. Once at the diner, it’s not only Benny who remembers you, but apparently half the diner knows you. Guess it comes with your dad being the police chief, and you did your best to fake interest in what every other party had to say to you. When you finally got to take a seat, you looked at your dad with wide eyes, mouthing “what the hell?” He gave you an innocent shrug, attention being taken away at the sound of the diner door opening.

Loud laughter disrupts the atmosphere as a group of four younger adults enter the building. You crane your head around to get a look at them. Three of them were well dressed, two guys and a girl, looking like they had just come from a golf course. Their fourth member stood out in the group, plain clothes and quiet disposition a stark contrast to the others. You turn back around, rolling your eyes trying to avoid the group. However, your dad had other plans, waving them over to your table.

You look at him bewildered. “Dad,” you whisper yell, “Stop it!” But he ignores you, continuing until the four of them are standing at the end of your table. You keep your eyes down, trained on the mustard yellow colour of the table top.

“Hey, Harrington, you remember my daughter right? You two were at the same elementary school. Sweetie, you remember Steve.” You give him a look of annoyance before looking up at them. The one your dad says is Steve is standing front and center, clearly the leader of this little group. His hair is done perfectly, blue striped polo looks like it was ironed before leaving the house, and his slight tan tells you he’s probably part of the uber wealthy country club built on the edge of the town in Loch Nora.

“Hey, Hopper,” he says, greeting your dad with a handshake. He looks smug, like his dad has probably paid yours off once for stupid things he’s done in his high school days. When he finally looks at you, you’re fully expecting him to only spare you a quick glance. Instead, he freezes in place, hazel eyes fixed on yours. You squirm a bit under his stare, clearing your throat.

“Uh, I don’t know if I remember,” your tone is unsure as you try to read him, “I went to Center, not Loch Elementary.” When you look at the other members of the group, you notice that they are all looking at Steve with wide eyes. Then they all look at you. Frankly, it’s very unsettling and you really wish they would go away.

“Oh, well, maybe you remember Jonathan then,” Your dad leans back to catch the attention of the shyer man, “Joyce had you at Loch, right Johnny?” 

When you make eye contact with Jonathan, you notice Steve step between the two of you, looking back at Jonathan. You couldn’t see Steve’s face, but it must have been scary enough that all Jonathan could do to respond was shake his head.

“Hey, Tommy, didn’t you say you had a thing you needed to do,” Steve says, not taking his eyes off Jonathan.

“Uh, yeah, Carol and I need to get to, uh, a dinner with her parents. Right, Carol?”

“Yeah, we better get going. Nice to see you, Chief Hopper….”

The four of them hastily exit the diner. “Oh, yeah, see you around!” His face goes from bright to confused as he watches them leave through the window. 

“What the hell was that?” you laugh, ducking your head into the table. Your dad does the same, eyes as big as yours, “I have no idea. I was just trying to help you make some friends.”

“I think I’ll pass on them, Dad.”

When you return to the cabin later, your dad steps in front of the truck, leaning against the hood. Watching you as you get out, you hesitate, getting out of the truck slowly. “Whaaaat’s that face for?” you ask, suspicious of his glare.

“Oh, you know, I was just thinking that you’re gonna get awfully bored sitting in the cabin all by yourself all day,” he straightens up, rubbing his hand along his stubbly chin.

You’re really confused now. “You said you get TV out here, right? I think I’ll be okay.”

He lifts his hands up in defense, “Alright, alright, you’ve twisted my arm. No need you yell at me and make me feel bad. Here”

You almost miss when he tosses the keys to the truck your way. Looking between him and the keys, you can’t help how wide you smile at the gift. “Dad, oh my god, are you sure?”

He nods his head, mozing a few steps to stand in front of you. “Of course. It’s not a nice new car, but I figured it would help you get around until you could find something you really liked.”

You do a little happy dance before launching yourself at him, giving him a big hug as you thank him over and over. “Thank you so much, dad,” you say, looking up at him. He gives you a good squeeze before you pull away.

Rain pitter pattered softly against the row of windows behind you. Today has been slow, much like the other four days since your first day at Barnes and Noble. Wanting something slow as you get used to being in Hawkins, your dad suggested the bookstore, saying that it wasn’t the most popular place in town. The manager, Bob Newby, hired you on the spot, stating he needed someone over eighteen to train as a manager since the old one left for college. He offered above minimum wage so you accepted. 

While you stood at the computer working on some modules, three teenage boys ran into the store looking like they were on a mission. 

“Hi, I’m Dustin,” one of them greeted you, offering you a hand shake. You oblige, taking his hand in yours as you introduce yourself. “And are my friends Lucas and Will,” he points his thumb over his shoulder to two boys his age. They both wave, looking at you with anticipation. 

“Nice to meet you. Is there something I can help you with?” you look between the three of them.

Dustin perks up, “Ah, yes. As a matter of fact there is fair maiden.”

You physically cringe at the pet name, trying to hide the pain in your face. 

“Oh, sorry,” he corrects, “yeah, we’re looking for the new D&D starter set? It says online that it’s supposed to come out on the 15th, but some Barnes & Nobles have it in stock already.”

You tilt your head in confusion. “A whaty-what set?” you chuckle. The boy's shoulders deflate at your words.

“Never mind, thank you ma’am,” Dustin says, turning to the other two. 

“See, told you they wouldn’t have it yet,” Lucas says to Dustin, “Let’s just try again in a couple days, man.”

“It was at least worth a shot,” Will says shrugging. 

You watch as they make their way towards the exit, feeling bad seeing them so dejected. They’re about to walk out, but stop when a man enters through the doors. Their faces light up, and they greet him with hugs. You don’t mean to eavesdrop, but they’re the only patrons in the store at the moment so it’s pretty much impossible not to hear them.

“Hey, man, welcome back,” Dustin squeals, bouncing with excitement, “How was the trip with the family?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you take in the person they are talking to. The first thing you notice is his hair, a straight out of the 80s Van Halen wannabe cut that you’re sure stopped being in style by the 90s. His outfit seems inspired from the same era as his hair; Leather jacket paired with a denim vest covered in patches and pins reminiscent of metalheads from years ago. The tight, black ripped jeans paired with black combat boots seem to be the only articles of his clothing that were current with today’s fashion. You couldn’t exactly make his face out from the distance, but you could admit that his voice had a certain silkiness as he talked.

“Henderson, Sinclair,” he pauses for a moment,” Byers. Good to see you boys,” the words fell off his tongue, affecting you in a way that they honestly shouldn’t. “We had a pretty good time. Saw some family friends and got to try some good food.”

“Nice, nice,” Dustin nods. He straightens up for a moment, “You’re not here for the starter set are you?”

“I am,” the man responds.

“Shit, so were we. They don’t have it though. The girl doesn’t even know what we're talking about,” he responds defeated.

This is when you get to see the man’s face. And, oh no, he’s hot. Big brown eyes meet yours as he turns in your direction. He’s smiling at first, but the longer he looks at you, the more…confused his face becomes? He fully turns away from the boys, making his way towards you, eyes not leaving yours. The counter being the only thing between you as he leans forward, his eyes flickering between yours. Why the hell does this keep happening?

“Can I help you?” you ask, leaning back a tad. He blinks, straightening up again. 

“Yeah,” he draws out, “I’m looking for a new dungeons and dragons module. It’s a set that comes with a book and a few other items. Have you gotten anything like that in stock recently?”

You go to open your mouth, but his head suddenly snaps to the side. Following his line of sight, you see your coworker, Eden, making her way back from the break room.

“Oh, hey, Eden,” you call, getting her attention. She does a fast walk over to you, giving the man in front of you a once over as he takes her place next to you. “Hey, these guys are looking for something and I don’t really know what they’re talking about.”

She sighs, “What do you want, Munson?”

The man smiles cheekily, “Oh, you know what I’m here for. Just another recommendation for a My Chemical Romance CD to listen to.”

“Fuck off, what are you really here for,” Eden snaps. You let out a giggle at the interaction unfolding in front of you. The man's eyes look to you, and his smile widens to his eyes, showing off his dimples. 

“There’s supposed to be a new Dungeons and Dragons book coming out. Do you have it? Please say you have it,” Lucas steps in front of the man, clearly exasperated as he places his hands on the counter. 

“Oh, yeah your dumb nerd game,” you catch her looking at you before subtly rolling her eyes, “We got a box in the back yesterday but we’re not supposed to put it out until, like, Friday or something.”

She might as well have told them they all won the lottery the way their faces lit up.

“Please, Eden, you gotta let us get one,” Dustin begs, pushing Lucas to the side.

“Yeah, pleeeeeease, Eden,” Will joins in now, pushing between the two other boys, “We promise we won’t tell Bob.”

Eden looks at them for a moment. She looks at you, clearly annoyed, “What do you think?”

Now all eyes are on you, making you feel like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Uh, I mean, one book isn’t going to hurt, right?” you look to Eden, hoping that was the right answer and that this wasn’t a test to keep your job. Her expression is deadpad, until a smirk grows on her face.

“Okay,” she says simply, grabbing a box cutter from under the counter and making her way to the back room. The boys all whoop and holler, following her to the door to wait. 

That leaves you with the man from earlier. With the stress out of the way, you’re able to really take in his features. He was even more attractive up close, impossibly beautiful if you think too much about it. His skin looked smooth, like stone, the sprinkle of little freckles here being the only indicator that he’s not the statue of Adonis dressed in punk attire.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” his head rolls as his attention is returned to you, a knowing smile plastered across his face.

Blush dusts your cheeks when you realize you've been caught ogling. Trying to hide your face in embarrassment, the carpet between your feet is suddenly very interesting. “Sorry,” you say to the floor. There’s a beat of silence. When you look up again, he looks perturbed. “I mean it, I’m sorry for staring…”

Brown eyes lock with yours, features softening as he speaks, “No, no, you’re good, I, just…” he trails off for a moment. Shaking his head, his curls bouncing with the movement, he takes a step closer to the counter. “Sorry, I should probably introduce myself. Name’s Eddie.”

You introduce yourself to him and he playfully looks you up and down, “Shit, you’re Hoppers kid? Probably best if I stay away from you then.”

“Why’s that?” you tilt your head, matching his playful tone.

“I’m not exactly the most favored in this town,” he leans into the counter, and you catch the glint of the ringed fingers on his hand, “Whole family isn’t really cared for. But, I tend to make things worse.”

“Why, do all of you refuse to leave the 80s behind?” you ask as you nod at his hair. He runs his tongue in his bottom lip in an attempt to keep himself from smiling, failing miserably as your eyebrows raise at his silence.

“No,” he taps a finger against the counter before standing up again, “Because they think we’re “freaks” for keeping to ourselves most of the time. Apparently it's a crime not to participate in small town drama.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s like, the first rule of small towns,” the corner of your mouth quirked, “If you don’t wanna be part of the drama, you’re just going to be the drama. Those are the rules.”

“Ah, I see, I must have missed that part of the book when we moved here. My bad.”

You go open your mouth, but Dustin suddenly runs into Eddie at full force with what you presume to be the desired book in hand. 

“Ooowwwwww,” Dustin says rubbing his arm, looking at Eddie with a grimace, “Sheesh, are you wearing armor under your jacket or something?”

Eddie scoffs, moving away from the boy, “No, you’re just soft compared to me, Henderson.” Eddie raises his arm to flex, and you swear you hear a seam burst somewhere in his jacket.

While you ring the boys out, they spend the entire time trying to explain the game to you. There’s an attempt to recruit you into their club, but you decline their offer.

“I promise I would not be fun to play with,” you reassure them.

“Mmmm, I doubt that,” Eddie chimes.

“Don’t listen to him, his only goal is to make us die in the game,” Lucas says.

“That’s not my goal. You guys just always manage to get yourselves killed.”

“Okay, okay,” Eden waves her hands around to get their attention, “I’m tired of hearing all the dork talk. Take your nerd book and go before I change my mind.”

“But I already paid--” Dustin starts.

Eden gives him a look, pointing for the door. The boys jump, scrambling for the door as they say their quick goodbyes. Eddie chuckles as he watches the boys go, turning back to you once they’re out of sight. He goes to say something, but Eden speaks up before he can. 

“Hey, you should probably go take your lunch break now,” she says to you with arms crossed. Her eyes shift over to Eddie, giving him a look.

“Oh, okay,” you nod. Before you go, you turn to Eddie, giving him a warm smile, “It was nice to meet you.”

He returns the sentiments, “Same to you.”

When you walk towards the break room, you look back at the counter, seeing Eddie and Eden talking.

“Hey dad,” you greet as you walk through the front door of the cabin, kicking off your shoes.

“Hey, how was work?” Your dad stands in the kitchen, wearing a pink apron and blaring hard rock from the little radio that hung on the underside of the cabinet. You gawk at him for a moment, before collecting yourself.

“Uh, it was good,” you place your bag on the coat hook, walking over to where he stands in the small kitchen, “What, uh, what are you doing, pops?”

“Oh, I invited the Byers over for dinner,” he said as if it was obvious. Your nose scrunched up at the smell of something burning.

“That’s supposed to be edible?” you ask, peering into the pan, unsure of what you were looking at exactly.

There’s a pause, both of you standing there for a beat. Then he reaches forward to flip off the oven. “I’ll order a pizza.”

The Byers car pulls up just as the pizza guy leaves. You watch as your dad runs around like a mad man picking things up around the cabin. You stop him mid step, grabbing the apron and pulling it over his head. He nods in a silent thanks and continues to run around. The knock on the front door breaks him of his frenzy, practically running to get to the door. It’s actually cute to watch your dad light up when he greets his friend. 

When Joyce lays her eyes on you, she’s instantly squealing and throwing her hands out for an embrace. You wrap her up in a hug that hasn’t changed since you were little. One of the only adults you remember, Joyce was a staple in your life even when your parents were going through their divorce. 

“Oh my god, look at you,” she does that mom thing where she puts her hands on your arms and gives you a good look over, “Goodness you’re so grown up now! I remember watching you when you were just a tiny little girl. Oh, here, you remember Jonathan,” she turns and places a hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. He gives you a one sided smile, not looking at you directly.

“Uh, yeah, we already ran into each other,” he says with a nod.

“And you might remember Will. He’s changed since you’ve seen him, though. He was just a toddler back then.” She moves over to let her other son in, and you’re almost as shocked as he is when you see one of the boys that came in the store earlier. You both give each other a look with a grin.

“Yeah, we’ve ran into each other already, too,” Will says. 

“Oh, good,” Joyce beams, “I guess that means we can save some time and go ahead and eat. Hop, I got some soda on sale at work. Jonathan, do you have the bags?”

Jonathan lifts two bags that have clearly been in his hands the whole time, Will and him looking at each other with a snicker. “Here, mom.”

Dinner consists of Joyce asking you all about living in Arizona, how your mom is, if she likes traveling with her boyfriend, if you’ve made any friends.

“Jonathan, you should see if Steve will let her come to one of your little get-togethers.”

“Mom,” he his brows raise into his bangs as he looks at her, “You know why that’s not a good idea.”

“Oh, come on, you guys can keep yourselves under control for one night,” she says, taking a bite of her pizza slice.

“No, it’s okay,” you chime in, “I don’t want to make anything weird. I don’t think I made a very good first impression with Steve when I first met him.”

Jonathan and Will both sputter out a laugh, and Joyce gives them little smacks on the arms to get them to stop. 

“What’s so funny?” Your dad chuckles with the boys.

“Nothing,” Will says, looking at you, then back to his pizza.

Jonathan straightens up, grin on his face as he speaks, “Um, just want to say Steve, like, doesn’t hate you. He just…ate something bad for breakfast and was in a bad mood or whatever.” 

Will is physically shaking in silent laughter and you feel like you’re missing out on some inside joke between them. Joyce just rolls her eyes, smiling as she mouths a sorry to you. You shake your head, letting her know it’s fine.

“So, Jonathan, Dad tells me you’re getting pretty good at photography?” 

He looks at you surprised, “Y-yeah, yes, yep.”

“Jonathan, tell her about the magazine! Jonathan’s picture was in a magazine,” Joyce gushes.

“One of my pictures is in a magazine,” he says to appease his mother. She grabs his arm and shakes it giddily. 

“It’s actually really good,” your dad says in agreement. Jonathan gives him a quick tight lipped smile, before his eyes meet yours. You mouth sorry and he smiles, eyes shifting down.

“So, Will, did you guys get to play that game,” you change the subject. He looks excited that you asked.

“Oh, no, we didn’t get the chance today. But we’re going to get together this weekend,” he shifts in his seat to face you. 

“That’s cool,” your head bobs cooly, “Does, uh, does Eddie play with you guys?”

There’s a sudden tension in the air, thick enough that a knife could cut it. The Byers are looking between each other, you don’t know if you’ve ever seen Joyce so serious. After a beat, it’s your father’s turn to giggle.

“Awe, come on. Don’t be like that you guys,” he says to the three of them. They remain hard as stone, Will tucking his head into his shoulder. Thinking back to the interaction at work the other day, you realize that Will had never directly interacted with Eddie, sort of standing back as Lucas and Dustin greeted him. 

“What? What is it?”

“Oh, Joyce has some weird beef with the Brenner’s,” your dad dismisses. 

“Ugh, Hop you know that’s not — it’s more complicated than that,” she looks to you. “Just,” she squeezes her eyes shut, breathing out of her nose, “it would be best if you just…don’t get involved with the Brenner’s, okay? Trust me.”

Eddie’s words about the town not being fond of his family came to the forefront of your mind. It had you intrigued as to how bad his family must be if Joyce Byers doesn’t like them. Though you want to press for more, you decide to put a pin in it for now to keep the peace. 

Once it’s just you and your dad again though, you’re immediately pressing him for questions. 

“Okay, so what is this “beef” you said Joyce has with the Brenner’s,” you shout from the bathroom, mouth full toothpaste as you brush your teeth. 

“Honestly, I wish I could tell you,” your dad yells from the front porch as he smokes, “They moved to Hawkins two years ago and Joyce, her boys, and half of Loch Nora seem to hate them. Sure, Eddie can be out of line at times, but the rest of them are tame.” He puts out his cigarette and walks back into the cabin, “ Dr.Brenner works at the hospital practically non-stop. Someone swore he was there for 3 days straight when this bad flu was going around last year. The rest of the family keeps to themselves for the most part. All adopted. Two of them are home schooled, the other two and Eddie are grown. I think one of ‘em is writing for a newspaper or something?”

Spitting and rinsing, you hop over the back of the couch, landing next to your father as he talks, “Half the town ignores them, and the other half claim that they’re monsters or supernatural.”

“Why?” you scrunch your face.

“Depends on who you ask,” he shrugs, sipping from his beer, “According to Joyce they shouldn’t be here. I’ve asked her plenty of times to give her side of the story, but she won't budge. I really respect Brenner, personally. Single guy, adopting and raising five kids on his own, working hard as a doctor to make sure they are taken care of.”

“You’d think Joyce would think highly of a guy like that,” you look up to the ceiling, trying to see what could possibly be the problem that Joyce would have. “Maybe he did something to her and she doesn’t want to say. Or maybe one of the kids did something to Jonathan or Will?”

“If they did something to the boys I know she would tell me. I guess I could see him saying something to her and her maybe taking it out of context. I don’t know, I just do my job and try and stay as unbiased as possible.”

You nod your head. You’re mind is still swirling with questions that you want to ask. But as your dad turns on his trash TV, you know he’s not going to be paying attention to anything you’re asking. So you decide to wait and ask him later.

Finding parking at work today was a nightmare. The entire parking lot in front of the Barnes & Noble was FULL of cars, a mix of classic and sport cars taking up several rows in the normally bare parking spots. Having to park in the very back, you cut through the crowd of people on the way to the building. It was busy, and making your way around ended up being worse than finding parking as half of Hawkins was packed into one place to fawn over cars. There was a bit of a flow that you’d caught on to, so you stuck through it, getting stopped occasionally as the group in front of you paused to gander. 

In one of the stalemates, you looked around for a way to get past the congestion, only to spot a familiar pair of brown eyes looking straight at you from across the lot. He looked exhausted, and you could only assume that he probably didn’t want to be here either. You gave him a small wave, and the frown carved into his face flipped, returning the gesture. You were about to try and make your way over to him, when the sound of a loud engine and horn honking had you turning your head, eyes blinded by light coming straight towards you.

The next thing you knew, you were on the ground, a pain in your rib confirming that you must have been hit. But when you open your eyes, you’re faced with the grill of a car being completely crushed by a…hand? In your shock, you follow the hand, up the arm, and into the same eyes you had seen just a moment ago, suddenly dark, almost black in appearance. Except they weren’t looking at you, they were looking down. Down at the open gash on your arm from the way you’d hit the pavement. 

Taking in a breath, you wince at the pain in your side. You’d expected to have hit your side on the pavement as well, but when you crane your head down, you see Eddie’s other hand gripping right over the pain. 

“Ow,” you say, sucking in a breath as you move slightly. His head snaps, looking up at you when you speak, and the look on his face reads concerned, but he seems frozen in place.

“Holy, shit dude,” a girl appears from behind Eddie, but the way he’s hunched over you obscures your view. You don’t miss the car suddenly moving over a few inches, though, Eddie’s grip loosening at the motion. When your eyebrows knit themselves together, trying to figure out what the hell was happening, Eddie suddenly starts yelling. “Hey, we need an ambulance over here!”

When you arrived at the hospital, you were surprised when the doctor that was assigned to you introduced himself as the infamous Dr. Brenner. He was a grey haired man, most likely in his late 50s or early 60s, with skin like porcelain and a reassuring smile. And most importantly, he had your x-rays in his hand.

“Good news, you’re going to live,” he laughs, flipping all the papers back on your chart, “Bad news is you’re going to live with a rib fracture. I would suggest taking it easy for the next six to eight weeks, take something for pain as needed, and don’t be afraid to slap on a lidocaine patch if it helps. As for your arm,” he looks at the bandage, a little blood soaking through the white, “Clean it well and keep it wrapped. A little antibacterial ointment should do the trick.”

“Thanks Brenner,” your dad sticks out his hand to the man, “I appreciate you getting here to look at her so quickly.”

Brenner takes your dad’s hand, shaking it in return, “Of course, I couldn’t let the police chief’s daughter sit in pain.” He looks over to you, brows creasing slightly before speaking up again, “The two of you are free to go whenever you’re ready. If her pain gets worse or if she hits the rib again, feel free to call me at home and I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

“Wow, thank you.” You’re taken aback at his generosity, looking over to your dad as he gives you a “see I told you he was a nice guy” look. While you gather your things, your dad tells you he’s going to grab the car and meet you at the front doors. 

As you leave the room, you look down the hall and see Eddie leaning up against the wall, chewing on his thumb nail deep in thought. Taking in a deep breath in preparation to approach him, you grab your side, wincing in pain. “Shit,” you breathe out, keeling over a bit. 

A pair of doc’s enters your vision. You lift your head, taking in Eddie’s figure as he’s now stood before you, hands hovering as he looks you over. 

“Are you okay?” his voice sounds panicked, his face twisted as he waits for your answer.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m good,” your voice strained, but you give him a weak smile in reassurance. He nods, hands lowering to disappear into his pockets. His mouth opens and closes a few times, his eyes looking anywhere but directly into yours as he fidgets about. You laugh at his nervousness, deciding to speak first.

“Thank you for saving me.” 

This gets his attention and he’s all teeth as he smiles, “Yeah, of course. I’m, uh, glad you’re okay.”

“I wouldn’t be without you,” you tilt your head, looking at him. You suddenly remember the events that unfolded. Eddie was on the other side of a line of cars, surrounded by droves of people and cars. The smile drops from your face. “How did you get to me so fast?”

“What are you talking about,” he shakes his head, “I was right next to you?”

You look at him incredulously, “What? No you weren’t. You were-”

“No, I was right next to you. When the car came at you, I grabbed you and pulled you out of the way.” The way he spoke to you scared you; a veiled threat with every word. But you wouldn’t let him get away with it.

“Eddie, I know what I saw. The way your hand crushed the front of that car and -- and then it moved-”

The feeling of ice on your lips shocked you, sending goosebumps across your body. Once you registered that the cold sensation was coming from Eddie’s hand over your mouth, an uneasiness takes over your whole body. It felt like he’d been standing in the winter weather, which would be understandable if it was, say, January, and not early August. 

Your hand flew to his wrist, the one attached to your injured arm. His eyes widened, focused on the wrap around your forearm. His throat bobbed, swallowing thickly. Then, he pulled his hand away as quickly as it landed on your lips. Backing away, he looked at you like you were the one to be afraid of. His eyes darted to your arm once more, then back to your eyes before taking off down the hall. He was fast, making a sharp turn at the end of the hall, but you ran after him, determined to get answers. Only, when you reached the turn he was gone.

That night is when the dreams started. Standing in an opening, trees surrounding you at every corner. The constant feeling of eyes on you made you feel small, vulnerable out in the open for the predator to attack. And when it does, all you see of it is its brown eyes.

You wake up in a cold sweat, breathing heavy, you frantically feel around for your phone. The bright screen blinds you when you tap it, through squinted eyes you read 4 am. A knock on your door has you jump.

“Hey, you okay in there?” Your dad’s voice fills you with relief. 

“Yeah, Dad, I’m good. Just a nightmare. Sorry to wake you,” you call to the barely visible door. He gives you an okay and tells you goodnight. You lie there awake until the sun comes up.

“Oh my god, that’s crazy!” Heather’s hand flies over her mouth as she pushes your cup across the tiny counter. “So you think his hand, like, broke your freaking rib?”

“I don’t know,” you grab the cup, taking a small sip, “It may have been a coincidence, but I could feel his fingers digging into my side, so it definitely wasn’t from hitting the pavement.”

“But you said he was all the way across the lot, that makes no sense,” Barb questions, wiping her hands on her green apron. 

You flail your arm up in an exaggerated shrug, “I know! He said he was next to me the whole time but I know he was over in G4 and I was in the F5 section. You guys saw all the people from in here, there’s no way he should have been able to get to me that quickly.”

“Ooohh, maybe the rumours are true then,” Heather wiggles her fingers at Barb, eliciting an eye roll from the red head. 

“You just want the rumours to be true because you’re obsessed with that True Blood show,” Barb says with a snide, teasing tone.

“What does True Blood have to do with the rumours?” When you ask, the two of them look at each other with  knowing grins.

“Oh you haven't heard?” Heather starts. “Everyone thinks the Brenner’s are a bunch of vampires or something.”

“Or something,” you parrot back, looking at her through squinted eyes. You knew most people in the midwest believed in some kind of cryptid or skinwalker, so you’d learned to take everything with a grain of salt when it came to small town gossip. 

“I keep telling her they come out in the day so they can’t be vampires,” Barb explains, “but she won’t believe me.”

“Okay, but, like, have you seen them?” Heather looks at you with raised brows. 

“I’ve only seen Eddie and Dr.Brenner,” you rub your hand over your still bandaged arm.

“Girl, okay,” Heather starts, placing her hands on the counter to lean in closer to you, “so like Eddie. Super hot, obvi. Dr.Brenner? Hot for an old dude, right? And I don’t even swing that way, but the two girls, Nancy and Robin, they’ll have you questioning things. They’re dating though from what I’ve heard,” she sighs, cheek landing in her palm. 

“Wait, the sisters are dating?” You looked at her, appalled by the insinuation of her words.

“They’re not siblings?” Heather looks at you funny. “Well, Nancy and one of the younger ones apparently are blood related. I think someone said that Robin isn’t adopted and that she just lives with them. Like a live-in girlfriend or whatever.”

You nod, trying to make sense of the weird family dynamic. Before Heather can continue on, the chime of the entrance door opening alerts you to a customer entering the store. Even though you were on your break, muscle memory took over as you turn on your heels to greet them, “Hi! Welcome to Barnes and…”

Eddie Munson himself walks in through the door, booking it straight for the games section without a passing glance. You stand there in dumb struck silence. When you look back at Barb and Heather, they give you “shit we were almost caught” looks on their faces, and it has all three of you laughing. 

“Oh, hey,” Heather motions you closer, “There’s gonna be a big party at Lover’s Lake on Friday. You should totally come. It’s on the Loch Nora side, but you can park by the lake houses and walk over.”

“Um, sure,” you accept, feeling excited at the prospect of making better friends with some of the people in town your age.

“Great,” Heather claps, a mischievous smile on her face. She wiggles her brows at you suggestively, “Make sure you bring your best swim suit, there’s going to be lots of Loch Nora boys there. I heard Steve Harrington is single again-”

“Small black coffee, please.” All three of you jump. Eddie was standing at Barb’s counter. None of you heard him walk up, as if he had appeared out of thin air. “Can I pay for this here?” He shakes a book that says something about monsters, a large creature on the front with a big eye. His face is stone, almost annoyed as he waits for Barb to ring him out. When he pays, he finally looks over at you, and you realise you’d been staring at him the whole time. 

You almost miss the way his eyes flash to your arm as he passes by. His intense stare makes you turn to hide your arm from his view. His nose flares when you do, brow creasing. But when his eyes meet yours, honey brown as if being hit by the non existing sunlight, his face softens. An almost pleading look to him. Like he wanted to talk to you, but wouldn’t. And as soon as Heather places his coffee on the counter, he’s booking it out the door. 

“What was that-” was all you heard Heather say, your feet moving on their own as you stepped out into the humid August air. He was already in the middle of the parking lot in the time it took you to get out the door.

“Eddie, hey! Wait a minute!”

He stopped in his tracks, back still turned to you. You stare right into the monster on his “Dio” patch as you approach him. Grabbing his arm, you go to spin him around but find it hard to get him to budge. Instead, he turns to you on his own, stone faced, waiting for you to speak.

“What the hell was that about back there?” You pant as you try to catch your breath. “Are you avoiding me or something?”

His body stiffens at your words, eyes narrowing, “What if I am?”

You blink at him, “I — I just want to know why, I guess?”

He stands there in silence, statuesque with an inhuman stillness. Getting tired of the stare off, you decide to just say your peace. “Listen, I know I’m not crazy. I don’t really care at this point the how or the why of what happened that day. Whether it was adrenaline, my memory being foggy, or-or whatever. You saved my life, and…and that’s what really matters. So, thank you.”

You watch his face ease into amusement, apples of his cheeks pressing lines into the creases of his eyes at your words. God he has a cute smile. 

“Okay,” is all he says, his eyes look you up and down. He seems to open up, body fully facing you now. 

“Okay,” you say with a smile. There’s a pregnant pause, the two of you just looking at each other for a moment until a drop of rain hits your nose. 

Both of you look up, and you can tell rain is about to fall. 

“Hey,” you try and talk quickly, wanting to get the words out before it starts pouring, “my coworker, Heather, she, um, said there’s going to be a party at Lover’s Lake Friday. N-not like a date, or anything. Uh, just, maybe we could start over. Trying to be friends…” You were kicking yourself on the inside for being so lame, “It’s on the Loch Nora side, but she said it should be easy to find. You, um, you should come?”

His head drops, shaking back and forth, but his smile remains. 

“I’ll think about it,” he says when he looks at you again. Taking a step back as the rain begins to fall, he nods towards the building behind you, “Better get inside, don’t want you to catch a cold.”

“O-oh, right,” you look behind you, and then back to him, but he’s already gone.

thank you for reading!

[fireboltposts]

Stray Kids watches you/catches you dancing suggestively part 1

A/N : There are slightly suggestive themes and tension but no smut. Also it is implied that the reader is female. Gif credit goes to the owner. I had to listen to each song on repeat while writing this 😆 to feel the vibe.

• Chris

Christmas was nearing and you had arrived home from work an hour or so ago excited because you didn't have to go to work until after New Year's. You made yourself some tea and sat down to listen to music on shuffle on the speakers, while you stared out the balcony. That was until Under The Influence by Chris Brown started playing. This song was your jam for the past few days. You kept your half-finished tea on the table beside the speaker as the song's sultry beat has you completely in it's grip. Every move feels controlled and powerful as you slowly lose yourself in the song, feeling confident, with your hands tracing the air, your hips groove to the sensual music, you were completely feeling yourself, your expressions matching the song's lyrics, "baby, you can, ride it, ooh, yeah", you dance gracefully on the floor, gyrating your hips and swaying them slowly and sensually as you rub your hands on your neck.

Chris had punched in the code and had just come in, a little intrigued as he heard music coming from the distance. He pokes his head inside the room and is frozen to the spot.

He knew you as a quiet and shy person. Although he's known you for some months now, he didn't know there was a seductive vixen hiding somewhere in you. It's always the ones with the innocent faces that can be this bold, he thought as he was taken aback with the scene in front of him. The way your body moved to the sensual beats, the way you mouthed the lyrics with the right facial expressions, every movement of yours exuding allure,power and confidence. He was mesmerized as the seconds passed and he had a mix of admiration and something else which he couldn't quite put a finger on, as he watches, hypnotized to you and he cannot even look away.

You blink suddenly fully aware that Chris was standing in the doorway, watching you. There was a thick tension in the air now, but you were feeling confident and did something your shy self would later probably regret. You got up and confidently step forward, your body moving towards him with a confident smirk playing on your lips, as his breath catches. Your movements are slow and deliberate as you're now singing along "tie it up, put a chain on it make you tattoo my name on it", you circled him,your hand brushing his shoulder singing along dangerously close to his ear as you watch them turn red. You mischievously licked the lobe of his ear and tugged a little with your teeth while you bite your lip and looked at him, smirking. He was now a blushing mess and was looking at his shoes, his ears now completely red and biting back a shy smile.

As the music continued to play in the background, you now closed the distance between you both.

"Caught me, did you ?", you smiled playfully, your gaze never leaving him.

"I ... I didn't mean to interrupt", he said, looking everywhere except at you, clearly flustered.

"Look at you, so shy", you said, as you stepped closer to him, your body brushing his. The playful smirk on your face only makes him more aware of the tension that’s building between you two. His eyes are locked on yours, and even though you can see the blush creeping up his neck, he doesn’t look away, trying to ignore the rush of feelings inside him and his heartbeat increases by the minute.

"I didn't know you had this captivating side of you", he compliments you, shyly but still enjoying the show. "Maybe next time, I could join you. For the dancing, I mean", he adds the next part quickly.

"Oh only join me for the dancing ? How sad", you pouted. "Boring", you tilted your head as you looked at him.

You walk towards the speaker and turn off the music, your eyes still glued to him as you pick up the cup of tea which was completely forgotten.

"Care to join me for some tea Channie and then we can discuss more on this?", you winked at him as you brushed past him towards the kitchen.

• Minho

(Without a Taemin song, the scenario would feel incomplete). 🤭

Lee Minho, better known by his stage name Lee Know, was your older brother's best friend, just fourteen months your senior. Your brother was an idol in an SM boygroup and was currently on tour, so there was no one to help you supervise your dance practice for your next YouTube dance cover. Your subscribers wanted you to dance to a Taemin song and you were a bit anxious as you wanted to make the perfect cover. I mean it was Taemin after all, one of your favourite idols and not to forget, one of your brother's close friends in the industry so he was bound to show Taemin your dance cover of his song.

So here you were, with Minho in your makeshift studio and the air is thick with tension and focus as you begin your suggestive dance. You were feeling a little self conscious as you knew Minho was watching and he was someone who expected perfection when it came to dance and you were here to deliver so.

Your movements begin to match the alluring and seductive beats of the song as you mouthed the lyrics because it made you feel the song more.

"비밀스럽게 너를 나에게 따라줘 fill it up more, fill it up more Oh 너로 채워지고 싶" (follow me secretly, fill it up fill up more, I want to be filled with you)".

Minho watches intently, arms crossed, silently assessing your performance, his eyes full with concentration and evaluating your every move . He's seen you dance before but never this intensely like this choreography and sensually. He's secretly proud that you're pushing your boundaries. He's a professional but that doesn't stop his gaze from wandering to your form as your movements and the lyrics become more intense. His jaw tightens when you hit a particular move, biting your lips, now completely into the song and he's wondering whether to give you constructive feedback or focus on how he was feeling seeing you dance like this, something stirring inside him. His composed demeanor is now tested as he's meant to give feedback without being distracted.

"Focus on the intention behind the movement, it's not only about being seductive but also embodying the confidence the song requires", he says distractedly as he's trying his best to stay professional. He steps in to correct your posture from a respectable distance, not even touching you, but still close enough. His minimal touch makes you a little nervous from his close proximity and the chemistry that lingers between you two.

"You should feel the lyrics too", his words are not just about technique now but something personal on a deeper level.

"아무리 넘쳐도 모자라 아직 네 사랑에 목말라" (no matter how much it overflows it's not enough, I'm still thirsty for your love). When you hit the final parts, he suddenly joins you in the routine, mirroring your movements in sync, both of you caught in the flow of the dance.

Naturally you both dance closer to each other, and the room seems smaller now, the space between you gradually decreasing and his eyes meet yours with an electric gaze. He doesn't break the gaze and the tension between you thickens. As the song fades out, there’s a heartbeat of silence. You’re both breathless, faces mere inches apart now. His hand finds yours, holding it softly as if he’s reluctant to let go. Neither of you moves, caught in the moment that lingers, the air still thick with the chemistry that’s been building throughout the dance.

"Now that's what I'm talking about. Do not forget the essence of the song. Own it," he whispers, his hand still entangled with yours, as you both breathe in and out roughly, your foreheads now touching, both of you making eye contact, him looking at your lips and then back to your eyes, with something unspoken lingering in the air.

A/N : Hope you liked it. Do like, comment, follow if you do. Meanwhile you can find my masterlist here.

[nanenna]

This Montage Could've Been a Beach Episode

Sleepy King AU Masterpost

Sad Danny Hour is finally receding enough I can get back to the more fun and light hearted stuff. Hope you all enjoyed the angst, there's absolutely none anywhere in this fic, I promise! ;D

-----

Diana grew tired of her team arguing in circles. “Stop, all of you. We’re getting nowhere.” She glared the gathered magic users down as they all looked to her. “Young Danny has been up on the Watchtower for several hours now, it’s highly unlikely whoever made this god egg doesn’t already know where he is. I cannot in good conscience let this boy leave without at least attempting to get the Ghost King out of him.”

Constantine tossed the earpiece Danny had used earlier at Diana, who caught it easily. “Clever bit of necromancy, that earpiece. Necromancy, luv. The Ghost King.”

“Nevertheless,” Diana said firmly, “now that we know what’s causing the block, can you work around it?”

Constantine sighed deeply, but the others paid him no mind.

“There are a few spells,” Zatanna said hesitantly.

“A few tricks to get a look, at least,” Dr. Fate agreed.

“Wonder Woman said he has blessings,” Raven said quickly. “They’re likely from trials Phantom has passed.”

“Yes,” Dr. Fate agreed. “It still wouldn’t hurt to look into them, they may be affecting how Phantom interacts with Danny.”

“Before you go,” Constantine interrupted as the group turned to head back. “The first rule of god eggs is you cannot let anyone inside know they’re inside one. The chick especially.”

“That is good to know,” Diana said with a nod.

“Make sure other two know as well.” Constantine shoved his hands in his pockets and let his shoulders slump as he spoke, as if he had no faith in that fact changing how Batman and Superman would act.

Diana could understand that attitude, it likely wouldn’t.

Diana’s communicator made a noise. She pulled it out to check it.

Superman: Danny is asking for someone named “Puhdora,” we think he means you.

Ah, now Diana truly knew how Clark felt. This boy, who doesn’t even know the danger he’s currently in, has mistaken her for someone he trusts. Well, if it will help keep him calm until the matter is resolved she will do her best to be this Puhdora person.

The group quietly filed back into the kitchenette, Zatanna, Marvel, and Fate quickly making themselves some more tea while Diana leaned down to murmur Constantine’s warning in Bruce’s ear. From the way Clark’s head was tilted he heard her too. She then moved her chair around to sit on the other side of Danny from Clark. She gently brushed some hair behind the boy’s ears.

“Pindoa,” Danny drowsily mumbled, hard to hear with his mouth pressed against a mug.

“Hello again, Danny,” Diana said gently with a smile, though her thoughts were spinning. Had he just called her Pandora? As in the titaness who guarded a chest that contained many great evils? That was incredibly concerning, if the beings who created the god egg included a titan she shuddered to think who or what else were working with her. She pulled out her communicator.

Wonder Woman: He has mistaken me for the titaness Pandora. Cpt. Marvel: Well that’s not ominous Dr. Fate: At least we now know the general power level of the beings who made this god egg. Zatanna: What is a titan doing looking after the Ghost King? Constantine: Oh great a bunch of angry bloody titans

Diana was distracted as Clark pushed a tablet in front of her. As she took the device she glanced over to see Bruce tapping away at his wrist computer. How kind of the man. And the device was already open to Phantom’s file, truly Bruce was very thoughtful. Diana angled the tablet so Danny wouldn’t be able to read the screen and started reading over everything Bruce had collected so far.

The pressure in the room began building again. She could feel the energies swirling around them as the magic users began casting their spells once more. She glanced over at Danny from the corner of her eye, he was yawning again. Ah, so he felt it too. As should be expected, even if they weren’t entirely sure how aware Phantom was of the situation.

The most important thing right now was to find out how entwined the two were after that cult’s summoning ritual. Constantine had stated that the boy had died and the Ghost King was the only thing keeping him alive, that likely his mind would be ripped asunder by the tyrant when he woke. Would Phantom be the same? Would the shredding happen on its own or was it a choice? As Diana skimmed through the information Bruce had gathered on the new king she couldn’t help thinking surely if it were a choice Phantom would do all in his power to protect young Danny. Time and again the young spirit had put himself in harm’s way to protect the people of Amity Park. Yes, he stumbled from time to time, everyone does. It was quite clear to Diana that this god egg wasn’t a series of trials for a tested hero, but rather a playpen for a young child.

A weight leaned against her side. Diana looked over to find Danny had switched from leaning against Clark to leaning against her. She tenderly brushed his hair from his face again and smiled down at the boy, who sighed in contentment.

If only gods didn’t view mortals as little more than play things. Phantom may be a small child in a playpen, but children were rough on their toys and mortals were so very fragile. There had miraculously been no deaths due to Phantom’s trials, she sent up a silent plea that Danny wouldn’t be the first.

The group chat, which was minimised in the corner of the screen, started moving. Diana expanded it to see what was going on.

Zatanna: I don’t think there’s anything we can do. Dr. Fate: It’s likely part of Phantom’s trials, to find a way to get out without hurting the boy. Cpt. Marvel: Assuming it’s actually part of the trials and not an accident. I doubt Phantom getting summoned is part of the god egg. Wonder Woman: Judging from the information Batman has been gathering, Phantom has a rapport with the children of Amity Park and will likely do all in his power to not harm Danny. Constantine: Sending the kid back to where the adults can keep an eye on him would be best Batman: If you’re all in agreement.

Diana glanced over to see Bruce frowning down at his wrist computer. She did not like the conclusion any more than him, but there was only so long they could risk a titan’s wrath, let alone the wrath of wherever else was working with Pandora.

Clark scooted his chair back, took a deep breath, then slapped his hands on his knees, “Well.”

Danny scrambled to chug the rest of his hot cocoa and distractedly put the mug down so he could stand with Clark. Diana couldn’t help smiling as she serenely stood to keep pace with them. Despite having rushed, Danny stifled yet another yawn and blearily shuffled after Clark as the man considerately kept his pace slow for the sleepy boy.

Diana sent out a quiet prayer he would be well.

They must have made quite the procession as their group headed for the Zeta tubes: Constantine and Raven well ahead of them, Clark, Danny, and Diana clustered together, followed shortly by Batman, Zatana, Dr. Fate, and Captain Marvel trailing after. Quite the escort for one single teenager who was basically sleep walking through the Watchtower.

“Ow!”

Diana startled and looked to the side just in time to see Danny bending down to pick up what appeared to be a boomerang, his other hand rubbing absently at the side of his head.

Danny heaved a great sigh, “Guess Jazz got imp-... uh… what?” He looked around at them, fully awake and clearly confused.

“Well, it’s a good thing we were just taking you home then, right?” Clark asked with a nervous chuckle.

Danny looked at the group of heroes around him, then down at the strangely glowing boomerang. Clark reached forward, likely to try gently encouraging Danny to continue down the hallway, towards where Constantine was staring at them in open mouthed shock.

Danny ran.

[aninipanin1]

How about Young manager with ADHD (continuously gets lost within Blue Lock, interrupts Ego using the PA system (accidentally) about trivial things, misplaces objects, rather naive etc),,, lol

LOST SHEEP

Notes: I personally do not have ADHD and my knowledge about it is quite small, so please forgive me if I misrepresent it here! I do not have any intentions of doing so, and if I do make some mistakes, please let me know! I am genuinely interested in being much more knowledgeable about this topic. Thank you!

"Y/n-chan...? What are you doing there..?"

Hiori asked, blinking at the rather bizarre scene in front of him. The midfielder just finished his daily training routines when he stepped inside of the laundry room to place his laundry basket.

But when he did walk in, he found their precious manager crouched down, hugging your legs as your eyes focused intensely at the small window of the washing machine, eyes boring at the spinning clothes inside the contraption.

In fact, you were too focused to even notice or hear the music of the other machines that alerted the room about how the process was done. You were just sitting there, staring, eyes blinking rarely, as if the rotation of the washing machine was a rare circus show to your eyes.

Everyone in the facility knew of your...tendencies and are more than understanding and ready to help you return your attention to whatever you were currently doing. Hiori was no different as he approached your crouched figure and lightly held your shoulder to take your attention back, but he made sure to be gentle enough to not scare you.

"Y/n-chan, earth to Y/n-chan. Are you okay?" He said in the softest voice he can muster, his hands supporting your crouched figure that almost lost its balance. You looked a bit dazed still from your previous episode, blinking at the sudden interruption. Turning to the blue-haired player, you tilted your head.

"Hiori-kun? What are we doing here...? What's happening?"

"Everything is fine, Y/n-chan. You just got a bit distracted with the washing machine." He explained, raising one of his hands to your hair, softly patting it in a comforting manner. He guided you up from your position and helped with the laundry that had long been done.

"Oh, I didnt notice that the rest were done..." you said in realization, looking at the washing machine with wide eyes. Hiori, who could not help himself, pinched one of your cheeks.

"Its fine, let's just get the rest of the laundry and hang it up, yeah?"

'Geez, she's too cute to be even real...' he inwardly gushed.

"What do you mean you can't find her?" Ego said, glaring at a worried Anri the moment he received the news. Apparently, you have been missing for more than an hour now, with no one from any stratum knowing where you were or even seeing you pass by.

"I'm a little worried. We all know how she gets when she's super distracted."

Ego sighed, rubbing his temple and not even adjusting his glasses that fell off the bridge of his nose. Out of everyone in there, he knew, especially how you can get. Being the one you always worked alongside with, there were times when you would be too focused on something trivial like a moving object or a rather miniscule detail that you would end up forgetting everything you were currently and supposed to be doing.

Now, most of the time, he encourages this. Ego cannot count how many times you ended up helping him and the players as a whole because your fixations on even the most minute of details always ended up being the root cause of a problem.

Hence, why, starting then, he always trusted your mini hyperfixations, no matter how dumb it may sound. You were naive, yes, but you are also a genius, something most people around you know of. So, early on, Ego trusted these said instincts and fixations and revolving them into something that would benefit everybody.

However, there are times like these where those hyperfixations end up disadvantageous. Somehow, you always get lost in the worst times in the worst places possible. Once, the whole facility literally had to work together in order to find you, only for Niko to find you crawling around the storage room near the cafeteria, chasing a ladybug that got your attention while you tried to find your way around the facility again.

There was no time for that kind of thing, however, seeing as to how the day after tomorrow was the last games for the Neo Egoist League, and the staff desperately needed to arrange everything and anything under the sun to make sure the games and livestream are all smooth sailing.

And, they definitely needed you, the overall manager of the teams, there.

"What do we do, Ego-san?"

"I'll look around in my cameras. Try to find her in the usual spot and rooms she crawls and runs on, or those rooms that have a lot of things she can fidget with." He sighed, feeling so done with everything that happened that day.

"Okay. I'll ask help from the rest of the staff."

Just as they were about to start looking for you though, the PA system was suspiciously turned on.

"Huh? It's not even 12 in the noon yet."

Anri said, confused, but all their questioning were answered when they heard the loud feedback of the mic before hearing small scratches and fidgeting noises in the mix. There were even times when they heard some buttons being pushed about. Ego sighed again, but it felt more like a breath of relief.

"That's her. Get that problem child and bring her here." Ego said, spinning his chair to face the cameras. And would you know it, when he went back through the CCTV cameras' previous footages, he saw you in the PA room, fidgeting with the buttons of the system. If he were to be honest, he felt a huge sigh of relief that you were not doing anything that may have harmed you of sort.

After a few minutes, Anri opened the door to his office but alongside her was Don Lorenzo who was smirking as he held you by the scruff of your jacket. Carrying you like a lost kitten, while you only blinked at the predicament you were in, constantly asking Anri about what you were supposed to do again and just babbling stories to Lorenzo and Anri.

"The lost sheep is here." He said, bringing you on the ground as carefully as he could, nodding along to whatever you said about how microphones actually worked and how you were just curious and wanted to experiment if your knowledge and hypothesis were actually real or whatever your mind was thinking about currently.

"Y/n." Ego said a bit sternly, making you stop talking as you looked at the man.

"Try to bring someone with you when you go on your little adventures sometimes." He said before turning his swivel chair once again to face the many monitors, turning his back to you.

"Okay, Ego-san!" You cheered happily, not even bothered about what had just transpired as you went back to your notebook to continue writing and working.

'This girl is going to be the death of me. This is why I don't want kids.' Ego thought, shaking his head.

"Rin-kun. Have you seen Mr. Boba?"

"Hah?"

Rin said, his usual frown in his face. But, this was more of a frown of confusion. He knew you had the habit of naming normal objects with names you found either fitting or adorable, by your standards of course. So, when you approached the striker about a supposed 'Mr. Boba,' he had no idea what the hell you were even looking for.

"Mr. Boba! He has tons of dots that's why he's Mr. Boba." You insisted, your face in a frown because you can't find what you were looking for at all and it was starting to thin your patience a bit.

"Look, I don't know what your Mr. Boba is. What even is it? Is it a hairpin of a boba, or a keychain?" Rin asked. He really did want to help you find Mr. Boba, but you were not exactly helping your case as you kept insisting Mr. Boba was Mr. Boba.

That was until Karasu and Shidou entered the field that helped him and you.

"Y/n-chan! Hi! Why are you sad?!" Shidou asked as he jumped to hug you, before frowning himself, not liking that you were clearly upset by the look at the frown on your face.

"What's wrong, Y/n-chan?" Karasu added, patting your hair.

"Did Rinrin over here make you sad? I'll beat him up for you if you want, Y/n-cha-"

"Shut the fuck up, lukewarm idiot. I didn't do crap." Rin intercepted Shidou, feeling the veins on his head pop.

"No, no, Shidou-san. I just can't find Mr. Boba. What do I do? I need him." The frown on your face deepened into a pout. Karasu was confused as hell who was this Mr. Boba you were talking about. He turned to Rin, who only glared at him.

"I dont know who the hell her Mr. Boba is."

But, Shidou seemed to understand who your Mr. Boba was as the grin on his face widened and he pulled your phone out from your jacket pocket and extended it to your hand.

"Mr. Boba!" You cheered happily at the phone.

"Silly Y/n-chan. It was in your pocket all along!" Shidou said as he pinched your cheeks and stretching it. Meanwhile, Karasu and Rin were just left confused to the side, wondering how the hell was a phone comparable to a boba.

"That's Mr. Boba? What the hell. I don't see it." Karasu commented, but Shidou only stuck his tongue out at both of them.

"You all are blind losers. Can't you see the phonecase design? It has black circles in the bottom and since its a clear case, you can see the (f/c) of the phone! So its like boba." Shidou explained, pointing out the small design of the phone that somehow made it look like a boba in both your and his eyes.

"Yeah! Like Shidou-san said!" You cheered as you hugged the male, thanking him sweetly for helping you find your Mr. Boba.

"I'm surrounded by idiots." Rin said, facepalming as Karasu just laughed.

"Shut the hell up, Rin-rin! You can't say that to Y/n-chan!!!"

"Who said I was also talking about her?"

ADDITIONAL TIME!

Since everyone in the Blue Lock facility found out about your disorder, they became much more protective of you overall.

You are waiting in line for food? No, youre not. Everyone is letting you get your food first.

You have bad time management? They'd help with that. They'll be your personal alarm clock.

You are feeling so bored and want to fidget with something? They'd let you play with their hands while they listened to Ego's damn lectures.

It's all about maintaining your attention span yet enabling you to become a better person as a whole. To improve your mental health and also make you feel that you are more than your disorder.

But, of course, they can't help but spoil you every once in a while. No biggie!

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[antinousletmehit]

May I request Odyssey tele meeting reader for the first time and being in denial about his feelings since he believes being in love is 'weak'

Telemachus first noticed you in passing. A palace servant, moving quietly through the halls, your presence barely acknowledged by those above you. But he saw you. The way you carried yourself with quiet grace, the way your hands worked with practiced efficiency, the way you never flinched under the weight of your duties.

He shouldn’t have cared.

But he did.

And it pissed him off.

It started small. An annoyance, really. The way his eyes would flick to you when you passed by, the way his mind would wander when he should be focused. Then, the irritation set in—why did he notice you at all? You weren’t a noblewoman, not someone worthy of his attention. He was a prince. His focus should be on ruling, on proving his strength. Not on… you.

And yet, when he caught one of the other servants whispering something to you, a low chuckle escaping their lips as you laughed softly in return, he felt a sharp, unfamiliar burn in his chest.

He ignored it.

The next time he saw you, you were carrying a basin of water, carefully making your way down the corridor. He didn’t mean to stare, but when his gaze lingered too long, he scowled and turned away quickly, irritated at himself.

Weakness. That’s what this was.

It was weak to let himself be distracted.

It was weak to care.

It was weak to want.

But then, the Fates had a cruel sense of humor.

One evening, after a particularly frustrating meeting with his mother, he stormed through the palace, too wound up to sit still. And, of course, the gods decided that would be the perfect time for him to cross paths with you. You were kneeling by the hearth, tending to the fire. The glow of the flames cast warm light over your features, and for a moment—just a moment—he forgot why he was angry.

Then you looked up at him, tilting your head in quiet curiosity. “My lord?”

His jaw clenched.

His heart did something stupid.

“I—” He cut himself off, fists clenching at his sides. What was he even doing here?

You stood, brushing your hands on your apron. “Are you alright?” The question was simple, but it rattled him. It was something about the way you said it—genuine, unassuming, unafraid. You weren’t flattering him, you weren’t trying to gain favor. You just… cared.

And it made him furious.

Because that was the problem. You were the problem.

“Why do you speak to me like that?” he snapped, his voice harsher than he intended.

You blinked. “Like what?”

“Like we are equals.”

Your brows furrowed slightly. “I meant no disrespect, my lord.”

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “Whatever,” he muttered, turning on his heel.

But before he could leave, you spoke again, voice softer this time. “You don’t have to pretend.”

His steps faltered. “What?”

“You act like you don’t care, but you do.”

He turned to face you fully, his face a mixture of disbelief and irritation. “Don’t presume to know me,” he ground out.

You just smiled. “I don’t have to. It’s obvious.”

His nostrils flared, his pride warring with the very real truth in your words. He hated that you saw through him. He hated that you were right. And most of all—he hated the way his chest tightened at the way you looked at him. So he did the only thing he knew how to do. He scoffed, turned on his heel, and left without another word. Because if he didn’t feel anything for you, then there was nothing to acknowledge. And if there was nothing to acknowledge—then it wasn’t real.

[calebslittleapple]

feels like home: sticky fingers

After a few weeks apart, Caleb reconnects with his Pip-squeak, only to find that she's pretty beaten up after a mission. Fortunately, Caleb knows exactly what to do to take care of his girl. From one moment to the next, everything changes, and what starts as an innocent interaction quickly evolves into something else entirely... two-shot, post club-interactions, but can be read as a standalone as well (though, this is part of my feels like home series).

Pairing: LaDS Caleb x MC (she/her)

Genre: Smut (with feelings); chapter one is M, chapter two is E; 18+

CW: Codependency; Pip-squeak as an endearment; MC is named "Emme" short for "Emme Sea" lmao; Finger Sucking; sensual massage; Vaginal Fingering; humping

Also on AO3

Chapter 1/2

After that dizzying night at the club, things settle back into the same old, same old, mostly because work’s been insane for both of them. At least, that’s what Caleb’s telling himself.

Naturally, he can’t stop thinking, feeling, reeling over the memory of his sweet girl, his beloved Pip-squeak, coming apart in his arms. Along with that, the way she’d woken early the day after, slipped from bed and made him breakfast.

That was normally his role to fall back into, but it was a domestic kind of sublime to walk into her kitchen, and see her standing there, cooking bacon, while wearing one of his t-shirts—old, stretched out, and way, way too big for her.

Caleb couldn’t put his finger on why, but he liked the way she looked in his clothes. Felt a bit like she was wrapped up in him. The possessive pieces of his heart shifted upon seeing her there, ever so slightly falling into place as if a simple moment like that could make his fractured heart whole once more.

They didn’t talk about what happened, because, of course, they didn’t. But she was different. A little surer in her touch and teasing. Hands lingered as the food was shared between them. Her eyes fell on his lips, the line of his neck, the broad stretch of his chest, which was purposefully emphasized by the two-sizes-too-small tank top he was wearing.

He flexed some, and she noticed that too. What was the point of having a physique like his, if not to show it off to the one person he’d crafted it for? Judging from the way her chewing stopped and how her eyes lingered, his many, many hours spent working out weren’t going to waste.

“See something you like, Pip-squeak?” he teased, but his voice was raspier than he’d thought it would be. Catching her staring was painfully intoxicating.

“Hmm?” she replied while shaking her head a bit. “What did you say?”

Caleb huffed out a laugh. “Pass the syrup.”

Picking up the nearby vessel, Emme quietly cursed as some of the sticky liquid sloshed over the edge and onto her fingers. After setting the syrup down, she stood and started to turn toward the sink, but Caleb caught her up in his gravity before she could move away.

“C’mere,” he murmured.

Shifting on her feet, she cocked her head at him, and Caleb couldn’t help but notice the way her eyes fluttered, just a little, as he let his power roll over her before pulling back.

Caleb held his hand out for hers. “Let me see.”

She swallowed, looked at her sticky fingers, and immediately focused on his lips. Caleb’s mouth curved into a knowing smile, which earned him a pretty pout.

“You’re terrible,” she breathed but held her hand out, anyway.

“Oh, c’mon, Pip-squeak,” he murmured, his warm hand gently skimming along the length of her forearm before curling around her wrist. “I know you like it when I’m bad.”

Her lips parted with a soft sigh that sounded anything but perturbed, pink tongue flicking out to lick her lips as her actions betrayed her thoughts.

“What are you going to do…?”

“You don’t know?” he asked while leaning closer to her hand, slow enough that she could pull back if she wanted.

He needed to prove something to himself, needed to prove that it wasn’t just the alcohol or the strange anonymity of that seedy club. Caleb needed to know that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her.

He could see it now, in the way she stood there, legs spread just a touch too wide, as if she was imagining what it might be like to fall into his lap and straddle his waist. Or maybe it was in how her hips switched, swaying almost the same way they had while she’d ground herself into his thigh the night before.

No, it was definitely in how glassy her eyes looked and the pretty flush on her cheeks. There was no alcohol coloring this interaction. What other places on her body would flush, he wondered. The tips of her nipples? The soft skin at the juncture between her legs and thighs? What about her ass? As decadently formed as it was, would her ass look even better with a bite mark… or two?

Caleb could feel himself growing hard in his gray sweatpants but was marginally relieved that he wouldn’t need to reach down and adjust himself this time. No distractions. Just her eyes locked on his as he pulled her hand closer and closer.

She didn’t gasp when he sucked her fingers into his mouth—index and middle; warm, sticky, and sweet. No, what she did was much, much worse than that.

Watching for every single reaction, Caleb swirled his tongue before delivering a long, soft suck, and his girl took in a halting breath, fluttered her fingers in his mouth, and fucking whimpered his name.

“C-Caleb!”

Broken, halting, haunting. He wanted to hear her say it again. To hear her say it while he pressed into her from above, while his head disappeared between her thighs, while he did every single thing he’d ever dreamed about doing to her, but dared not do.

They were growing closer and closer to the day when they would dare, and he was doing his best to be patient. He’d draw out every moment so when that day did come, when she finally gave in to her desires and realized that everything she’d been wanting was right before her eyes, it would be after he so thoroughly seduced her that she’d never think of denying either of them.

Ever. Again.

Caleb wasn’t a patient man, but he could play pretend with the best of them. For her, he would make the planet collapse in on itself if she but asked. But all she needed right now was patience and time. As his tongue swirled and his mouth pulled, he lingered there, and let her think of all the other places on her body that would feel oh so good if he ever got his lips, teeth, and tongue on them.

And he would. But, for that moment, he let her go and was not so secretly smug about the sweetly blissed-out look on her face, and the way she stumble-sat into her chair before picking at her food again, desperate to look somewhere, anywhere but at the face of the man she knew the best, and needed the most.

Weeks flew by. She texted, same as always. She called, and he answered on the second ring, same as always. But where once Caleb could soothe himself with the knowledge that he’d be able to see her soon enough, now he is consumed with the memories of their interactions and, more to the point, her reactions.

The clothes she left at his place for use during her visits no longer smell like her, likely because he spends most nights with his face wrapped up in them. The only peaceful rest he’s able to get is when she’s near. When he knows she’s safe. Now, her shirt and shorts just smell like him, and as much as he enjoys leaving his scent all over her space, he wants the same for his home.

Logically, Caleb knows that Linkon is a safer place for her, for a multitude of reasons, but the greedy, dark spaces of his heart want to keep her high in the sky, in Skyhaven with him. He’s smart enough to know how to keep her safe at his apartment. God, he’s done it before. But as good as it makes him feel to know without a doubt that she is safe, he can’t stand the look in her eye at that particular betrayal.

Just one more sin for the consummate sinner. But with her, ahh… It feels like he can find absolution in her arms. No matter how dark he gets, his girl will always be there to pull him back into the light. She promised him, just as he’d promised to always be there with him.

Finally, when Caleb thinks he’s at his wits’ end, he gets a text from Emme asking if he wants to meet up at her place on the weekend. Naturally, he agrees. Even if he didn’t have the time off, he’d have figured something out. He’s so excited about it that he decides to surprise her the night before, which isn’t uncommon for him.

So, with snacks and an overnight bag in hand, he lets himself into her apartment and waits for her to get back home from work. From how she tells it, she’s been overtime on something important. Caleb did some digging and managed to find out it had something to do with Wanderers convening just outside of the city limits.

It’s miserable work, as important as it is, and he worries because that’s who he is. Caleb wouldn’t be Caleb if he wasn’t worrying about his Pip-squeak. He’s just wired that way. And this time, he’s right to be concerned because when she finally gets back to her apartment at just after 2 a.m., she stumbles in.

Of course, she’s not entirely surprised that he’s there—who else would be watching movies this late in her living room, who else would know the security code to her suite, and who else would show up unannounced, like him—but she looks put out, all the same.

He watches her for a moment longer as she pauses at the entrance to her home, leaning against the doorframe as she breathes deep, head hanging heavy, body drooping… He’s moving before she can fall, her body pitching forward into his strong body instead of the floor.

“Whoa, Pip-squeak! What’s wrong?”

She looks up at him, and the dark smudges under her eyes, along with the scrapes on her cheeks and neck tell him everything he needs to know.

“Caleb.” One word spoken, half annoyance, half supplication. It’s all he needs. A moment longer, and she’s swept up into his arms.

“Let’s get you washed, dried, and cared for,” he says, sounding more competent and put together than he feels. In truth, his heart is pounding in his chest, and it’s taking everything he has not to drive over to the Hunter’s Association and ream out whoever is responsible for putting her in the situation that got her in this state.

Not that he’d dare leave her now.

He carries her through the small space of her apartment and walks them both into the bathroom. Her bathroom is cramped on a good day, and with the two of them in there, it’s even worse. She bats at his hands and tries to tell him she can manage on her own.

“I’m not a child.”

“Of course you aren’t, but you’re still my girl. How could I live with myself if I left you alone now? What if you fell in the shower, or worse?”

She frowns, but some of the roughness of that expression is smoothed away as she thinks about it.

“You owe me, then.”

“Oh?”

“Next time you get sick. You call me. You let me in. No excuses.”

Caleb sighs. Of course, she’d bargain for something like that. It’s not in his nature to show weakness, least of all to her, but he’d promise just about anything and mean it to keep her happy.

“Deal. Now, strip.”

She blushes at that, only for her lips to frown again.

“What?”

As Caleb eases her from his arms, she’s unsteady on her feet. “I really… just don’t think I can.”

“Need some help?” he asks, trying to sound casual, but very much feeling like his heart is going to explode.

“Promise not to get mad?”

“No.”

“Caleb!” she exclaims while giving him a halfhearted shove. “There’s just a few scrapes. And I’m sure I’ll be bruised tomorrow. But it’s nothing major, okay?”

“Okay. But you’re going to let me treat your injuries.”

She pouts. “Fine, but it’s mostly just… really sore muscles. I think a Wanderer was trying to tear my spine out…”

He hates the sound of that but manages to transfer some of his anger to the fastenings of her clothes, quickly and efficiently stripping the layers of her outfit from her body until she’s standing there in nothing more than her underthings and the bracelet he gave her.

He loves that no matter where she goes, she’s got a piece of him with her, but he keeps that bit of information to himself. She already has his heart. Any more leverage and she’ll have him following her like a puppy… more than he already does, that is.

Caleb tries to be level-headed about this, but it’s a challenge given how very fuckin’ long he’s dreamed about seeing her like this, albeit in very different circumstances. Still, he loves her, loves her more than he longs for her, even, so he schools his features, wills his body to calm down, and has his Evol prop her up while guiding her roughed-up body into the shower.

And though it’s strange, and not entirely logical, Caleb swears he can feel her pressing back into his gravitational touch, leaning into his power as he works to support her and not lose his damn mind. Maybe it has something to do with her Resonance. God knows it wouldn’t be the first time that their shared connection bridged the gap between fantasy and reality.

Once the shower curtain is closed, his power slips away, leaving her to stand on her own two feet.

“You good?”

“I’ve got the wall,” she says with a sigh. “Can you help me after I’m done?”

“Of course.”

She manages to take off the rest of her clothes. They fall to the floor of her shower with a soft thump.

“Want me to grab ‘em?”

“Everything’s filthy,” she admits. “Guts and blood and gore. I think I’m gonna burn them.”

Caleb chuckles and shakes his head. He’ll get the gore out for her. He’s good at that. Listening attentively, he makes sure to check in with her as she bathes. Truthfully, she’s sounding better, at least, until a soft hiss sounds from behind the curtain.

“Everything alright, Pip-squeak?”

“Just a very, very sore muscle.”

The water stops, and she gingerly peeks her head out from behind the curtain. She’s adorably drenched, and every part of him is itching with the need to care for her. He’s pleased to note that most of the blood is washed away, and doesn’t seem to belong to her.

Guts and blood and gore, indeed.

“I got a towel ready,” he says, spreading it out and turning his head so she can step out of the shower without having to worry about him leering.

Caleb swears she snickers at him, but she ducks into his arms and lets him wrap her in the towel, just the same. She’s swallowed up by an excess of plush fabric, with only her feet and head peeking out from the edges.

It almost reminds him of when she was young, and how after playing with the sprinkler and tiring herself out in the summer sun, she’d complain about being cold, only for Caleb to wrap her up in a towel and help her dry off.

Well, he’s not that boy anymore, and she’s certainly not that girl, and what they are to each other is so much more than childhood friends.

Still, he tugs at the edge of the towel and lifts it so that he’s better covering her neck. “Can you turn around? I’ll dry your hair.”

“The blow dryer is—”

“Beneath the sink, I know.”

With everything ready, he first works at detangling her hair with her paddle brush. Her work’s made a mess of her hair, but he’s good at this—the best, actually. He has to be because the last thing he wants is to cause her any more pain.

After her hair is detangled and pulled back, he slowly runs the blow dryer over it while combing it on low heat. He’d hate to damage her hair. Once her hair is mostly dry, he quickly pulls it into a braid. Another thing that he’s quite good at.

“Hair ties?”

She holds up her wrist.

“Hair ties that haven’t gone through hell and back?” he clarifies while tugging the band from her wrist and throwing it in the trash.

“Medicine cabinet.”

He gets what he needs, ties off her hair, and picks her up again. This time, she squawks a little, but he gently rubs his lips against the top of her head and softly begs, “Please? Let me help.”

And mollified by his words or his actions, she settles and lets her head fall against his shoulder. It doesn’t take long to get to her bedroom, the door of which he gently nudges open with his power.

Caleb settles her on the bed and walks over to her dresser. “What d’ya wanna wear?”

“Mmm, I have some clothes ready in the top drawer.”

Pulling open the heavy wooden drawer, Caleb is surprised to recognize her clothes as his. “I was wearing this the last time I visited.”

“Yeah, your clothes are comfier than mine.”

“The shorts aren’t mine,” he points out.

“Your shorts would slide down my legs. The shirt is big, but it’s sooo nice to sleep in.”

As Caleb tugs the shirt and shorts closer, he can’t help but notice that it still smells faintly of his scent.

“Didn’t you wash this, Pip-squeak?” he drawls.

“Oh. No…” She sounds embarrassed, and he’s just about to tease her for always leaving her dirty laundry for him to do when she soundly sucker-punches him with what she says next. “It still smells like you… So… that’s why.”

That soft admission has the air retreating from his lungs in a wicked rush, words hitting with precision impact. Caleb doesn’t turn to face her. He can’t. His fist is tightly clenched around his shirt—the one that smells like him—his eyes are closed, and his breathing is so erratic that he needs to take a moment to calm himself.

Of course, he keeps her clothes at his bedside when she’s not in his home, but to hear she does the same—no, that she wears clothes that smell like him to bed—makes him feel fucking feral. He is not a good man. Far from it. He is who he needs to be so that he can keep her safe.

But when the reality of her words hits, it shifts his intentions for the evening entirely. He’d meant to put her to bed with a heating pad after checking for wounds, and then go to make her something to eat. Now she’d be lucky if he let her sleep at all.

“Where’s that massage oil that Tara got you?”

“How do you know about that?!” she balks.

“She was bragging about it at your birthday party. She’s remarkably chatty when she’s been drinking.” Tara was remarkably chatty all the time, but she got downright obscene with alcohol. Caleb got the sense that she was intentionally making him aware of the oil, almost as if she was giving him a not-so-subtle nudge.

As if any of this was up to him. Still, the knowledge came in handy. He’s feeling not the least bit smug about it, at least, until she hits him with another jab. “It’s in the drawer of my bedside table.”

Caleb closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and specifically does not think about what that likely means.

He clears his throat, but his voice is still rough when he finally manages to ask, “Can you dress yourself?”

“I can manage. But what are you going to do with the oil?”

Caleb shakes his head, turns, and fixes her with a look. “Massage your legs, silly girl. You could barely stand earlier. They’re gonna be hellish in the morning if you don’t take care of them now.”

“You’d do that for me?” she asks, cheeks still flushed from her shower, and towel wrapped tight. She looks good enough to eat, and Caleb expects that if he doesn’t somewhat sate the beast inside of him, he’s going to make a meal of her sooner rather than later.

Caleb stands before her, bunches her shirt—his shirt—up, and slides the top over her head. “Can you manage the rest?”

She nods, and he turns around to give her some privacy. “The shorts?”

“I can manage,” she replies, but her groans make his stomach twist with concern.

“They’re working you too hard.”

“My job is hard. This is what I signed up for.”

“Then you need to do a better job of taking care of yourself during your days off.”

“Okay, Mom.”

“I think ‘Daddy’ would be more fitting.”

“Caleb!” she squeaks. “Don’t say things like that.” But she certainly doesn’t sound as scandalized as she should…

“All right, all right. I’m sorry. You finished?”

“…Yeah, I got it.”

Caleb turns, tilts his head, and gives her a look. Her hair’s messed up now from the shirt, and she looks tired. A perfect pout greets his smile.

“Poor baby,” he softly croons. “Lay back and let me take care of you.”

He can see her swallow at that, like she’s having a hard time making her vocal cords work. “You’re just taking advantage of my weakness.”

“Naturally. How else am I gonna get you to understand that you need me?”

She huffs at that. “You need me just as much as I need you, Caleb.”

He snorts softly, teeth pressing into his tongue, before he softly admits, “You have no idea… Now, no more stalling.”

Caleb points to the bed, and she dutifully scoots back onto the sheets, albeit slowly and with effort. He manages to dig out the oil from her dresser and pointedly ignores literally everything else that’s hidden away in there because he won’t be able to behave if he does otherwise.

“I guess I should have grabbed the oil,” she starts to say.

He frowns. “Why?”

“Oh… never mind.”

“Something you don’t want me to see in there?”

She nibbles her lip, eyes fluttering softly as she murmurs, “Maybe… maybe not.”

The look she gives him is so coy and tempting that his mind goes completely blank and he utterly forgets what the hell he’d been in the middle of doing. At least, until she points to the oil.

“Are you gonna massage my legs or…?”

“Yeah… yeah. Right. Roll over, Pip-squeak. Lemme see where it hurts.”

She rolls over and Caleb’s eyes trail reverently over the length of her legs. She looks good. Too good. He hates that her coworkers get to even see a measure of this. Of course, he knows it’s insane to want to be the only one who can appreciate her, but his greedy heart feels it just the same.

“You been workin’ out more lately?”

“Hmm? Why?”

“Things look… tight,” he rasps, voice betraying his interest and desire.

Her reply is soft and teasing. “Someone did make me join that squat challenge last month. And here, I thought you had ulterior motives, but you’re acting all surprised.”

Caleb coughs to cover up some of his embarrassment and dispel a measure of his lust. Yeah, he had gotten her to agree to that challenge. Honestly, he’d been grasping for things to say, because he caught her right after a workout and the fine mist of sweat on her brow, along with the gorgeous flush in her cheeks, had him thinking of exercise of a different kind.

And here she’d taken him seriously.

“Gonna be as strong as me soon,” he manages while stepping closer to the bed. Her legs are spread on either side of him, and for one long moment, he doesn’t know what to do, or where to look next.

“Doubt it. Your legs are too long, and your thighs are too strong.”

“Been thinking about my thighs, baby?”

He’s teasing, sweet, and he means to catch her off guard, but she hits back so hard as she replies, “Yeah, your thighs… and other parts of your anatomy.”

Caleb sighs, long and hard. Says a prayer for courage to whoever happens to be listening, the Gods of the earth and the sea and space, or otherwise, and then, he gets to work. He kneels on the floor at the edge of the bed, and he’s tall enough that this gives him a good vantage point. He knows exactly what he wants to do next, and he’s as ready as he’ll ever be.

 “Tell me if it hurts.”

~~~

Author’s Note:

Sorry, this was so big that I had to cut it into two chapters because I hate editing and I got busy with other stuff. I’ll post the other chapter tomorrow, so you can have something to enjoy (I hope) over the weekend. The second part is spicier :D

I listened to the hipsterist hipster music for this one to get me into the right headspace, please enjoy haha. Also somewhat inspired by what has to have been the most painful massage I’ve ever had in my LIFE (did not have the same ending, there was only pain lmao, but I was like hmm maybe Caleb would be good at massages for MC, and then, PAIN). Also Deeply inspired by that secret times where Caleb takes care of MC when she’s sick. Like GOD DAMN, Caleb. “You’re worried I’ll spoil you rotten. Too late for that!” ??? ARE YOU KIDDING ME????

Also, not that it matters in the slightest, but I wrote this before I learned it’s canon that she likes to keep his clothes around (and wear them???) because they smell like him. They’re just really transparent with how fucking down bad these two are for each other lmao.

Still really fucking obsessed here, guys. Chokehold, I think is a good way to put it. Caleb is a mf bias wrecker, like oh my literal GOD. I swear, some of these are gonna be from MC’s pov, but I’m working through some SHIT rn lol.

I also gave the MC a little name, “Emme” which is short for Emme Sea lmao. I have a challenging time with writing y/n or like using second person present tense. No judgment or anything like that, it just makes it hard for me to think of the characters properly when I’m writing them. ANYWAY, I’ll use it sparingly, but sometimes, it’s just better to have a name lol.

Anyway, thanks so much for reading! And extra hugs for anyone who left a comment. You are the apple of my eye, and thank you for giving me a space to channel this whatever it is? Obsession lmao. I’ve got a few other interludes planned (shower), and I’m taking requests (on tumblr), so either give this/me a follow, or check up on my tumblr :) If you enjoyed, I’d love to hear from you! Or feel free to share with a friend, if you’re lucky enough to have some Caleb-obsessed friends haha.

Don’t forget! I'll be posting any updates as installments (not chapters), so be sure to sub to the series or my user name to get updates on ao3, or just check my tumblr, i'll post here too♥️🍎

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: The Empire Thanks You For Your Service

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

Slowly closing the door behind him, Supreme Admiral Narcus breathed a sigh of relief to be finally home.

It had been a night of celebration and triumph for many, yet the day’s events had taken their toll on him and now Narcus wished only for the comfort of his bed. Still, he was held to certain standards and as the victorious leader who had vanquished an entire human fleet he was hoisted up by both the military and civilian government of his people as a hero of the republic.

Warring with the human bipeds had gone on longer than expected and the republic had suffered many casualties. What had been planned as a short war had turned into a three year conflict of grueling attrition. Things were beginning to look grim until intelligence intercepted a coded message detailing a human fleet attempting to sneak through the Calaxi Nebula. Had they succeeded they would have bypassed several warning sensor nets and been dropped into the heart of republic manufacturing worlds, crippling the war effort with their destruction and all but ensuring their defeat.

Instead Narcus had held his fleet at the expected exit point the humans would use when emerging from the Nebula. When their ships emerged from the swirling gases, with their shields still lowered to avoid from passage through the Nebula, Narcus gave the command and every ship in his force opened fire. The leading human ships were reduced to debris fields before they could even get a single shot off. Some of them attempted to make a stand and push through Narcus’s formation, but the humans were trickling out of the Nebula rather than coming at him as a single force; their numbers were decimated in short order until after two hours of fighting the remaining humans turned tail and retreated back into the Nebula.

“I figured you to be one not for frivolous socialization.”

Narcus’s head snapped around to see a hooded figure sitting at his dining room table. Had they not spoken Narcus would have walked right passed the figure and wouldn’t even know with how well they clung to the shadows.

His hand reached for his side arm but the figure held up a hand.

“Relax, I mean you no harm.” They chuckled. “Besides, I doubt I even could as I am.”

The figure picked up a cup and tossed it at Narcus lazily. His hand snapped up to swipe it away only for it to phase through his hand and disappear entirely.

“Holograms.” Narcus muttered as realization finally dawned on him.

“A fast learner,” the figure chimed in, “perhaps that is how you bested my forces so easily.”

“Your forces?” Narcus asked. “Who are you?”

The figure casually flicked off their hood and the Supreme Admiral finally got a good look at the intruder.

“Human.” Narcus snarled.

The human laughed. “I must say I was expecting a bit more than simply “Human”.” They replied as they imitated the disgust Narcus had used for the word.

“One human is no different from the other.” Narcus replied as he approached the table. The human made no move to get up from their seat and instead gestured to the empty seat opposite them.

“Unless that is you are the ruler of all humans.”

Again they were expecting some reaction but Narcus’s face gave little reaction.

“Really?” the human sighed in a defeated manner. “I am Valarin Cassia, Emperor of the Terran Dominion.”

Like a drunkard finally snapping out of their haze Narcus’s eyes went wide. He had never seen a picture of the human ruler but he had heard of their name. Many of the ships he had fought against in the war had been named after this emperor and he had learned even more from captured soldiers who were interrogated.

“I was expecting someone……taller.”

Narcus adopted an attitude of indifference. He had dealt with such beings of status and position and the one thing they all shared in common was an enragement at jokes made at their expense. To his surprise the emperor laughed.

“That would be the work of my artificers. They tend to add three feet and remove ten pounds here and there.”

Their laugh was rich and to the Supreme Admiral’s surprise, genuine.

“Why are you here?” Narcus took the seat opposite Valarin and eyed the emperor. Perhaps it was because they were a hologram that they acted so flamboyant; free from the risk of any harm or danger.

The emperor extended his hands joyously as if to embrace Narcus. “Why to honor you for your victory of course!”

 He put his hands down as if looking for something before turning back sheepishly towards Narcus. “I would give you a toast but it seems I have thrown away my only cup.”

“Do humans pick the maddest amongst them to lead, or are you just a special case of stupidity?”

Whatever games the emperor was playing Narcus was too tired to play them.

The emperor shook his head and put his arms down. “I speak nothing but truth, you have achieved a great victory. Such things are acknowledged amongst my people.”

“A victory against your people.” Narcus chuckled, but the emperor merely smiled.

“If you say so.” They replied

The feelings of victory evaporated at the emperor’s words and he fixed them with a stare that had turned generals to sobbing puddles.

“What does that mean?” he demanded.

The grin of the emperor grew wider and Narcus could not help that he was a fly caught in a spider’s web.

“Do you know who was commanding that fleet?”

When Narcus shook his head Valarin continued. “General Atalia Decani, my most decorated commander. She was the one who came up with the bold strategy and refused any other to lead it.”

“Why do you celebrate the death of your strongest warrior?” Narcus asked bluntly. This never ending circling was infuriating and he wished the human would reach their point.

“I celebrate the death of my greatest rival.”

The Supreme Admiral’s eyes went wide for a moment before he recomposed himself.

“I do not understand.” Narcus spoke as the emperor leaned over the table, clasping his fingers together.

“I imagine your people have grown tired of this war as well.” Valarin began, “Mine have as well and that tiredness has grown into outward resentment of my rule. They equated the ongoing war to a….degree of failure on my part.”

“After seeing the broken wrecks of your ships I can understand why.” Narcus chuckled.

The emperor’s expression flashed for a moment, but a moment was all Narcus needed to see a deep murderous depth lurking just beneath the human’s disarming smiles. There was malice behind those eyes.

“Atalia was always a power hungry vagrant, and she latched on to that discontent and fashioned herself into a powerful political figure. She even had the gall to present her military plan directly to my senate and seek their approval over mine.”

“Typical human stumbling.” Narcus chimed in. “Hours and days of boasting yet when the time comes to act you fall flat on your faces. I foiled her plans just as easy as I would have yours.”

“Oh you don’t know the half of it.” Valarin chuckled. “Did you know she never planned to attack your worlds?”

For the first time Narcus was at a loss for words.

“You’re lying.”

“Nothing I’ve said yet has been one, why start now?” Valarin replied coyly. “Her plan was to surprise your worlds before sending a message to your republic’s leaders demanding a ceasefire.”

“A what?”

Valarin nodded at the dumbfounded Narcus. “Oh yes, she planned to use the threat of attacking your worlds as a bargaining chip to open negotiations which would eventually end with an armistice; thus ending the war entirely.”

 “If I had not…” Narcus stammered. As the emperor spoke Narcus felt all of the warmth leave his body, replaced by a cold abyss the likes of which he had never known. Peace had been nearly within their grasp yet because of Narcus’s actions… “….if we had never intercepted your transmissions.”

“Funny thing that.”

Narcus looked up to see the emperor standing beside him. He hadn’t even noticed him moving over beside him.

“Strange how the entire war you could never decrypt our, yet when it came to the most important one of all you broke it like a baby’s spine upon your knee.”

“You…….you sent those messages!”

Valarin nodded in confirmation as the Supreme Commander stumbled from his chair, knocking it over as the weight of the situation finally came crashing down on him.

“I did, and you took the bait all the way to Atalia and decimated her and her entire fleet. Your slaying of her not only removed a powerful rival of mine, but also instilled a deep seated hatred towards your people amongst the populace that has rekindled their fighting spirit. They’ve been lining up in droves waiting to enlist into the renewed war effort.”

Valarin placed a hand on Narcus’s shoulder and…..he felt it. It did not disappear or fluctuate like the cup hologram had and the Supreme Admiral looked up at Valarin. He held out a strange medal in the shape of a golden star wrapped in a wreath of green leafs.

“I thank you for your service to the empire.” Valarin said gleefully as he put the medal into Narcus’s hand.

“You said you were a hologram.” Narcus managed to spit out as he realized he was truly before the human emperor.

Valarin shrugged and stepped back from the dumbfounded Supreme Admiral.

“I said the cup was, never I; until we meet again.”

The emperor showed a final smile before his entire person was swallowed by a blinding light. By the time Narcus’s eyes recovered he was standing alone once more in his home. He looked down at his hand at the golden medal.

It was clean as day, yet to Narcus he could smell the stench of blood drenching its every surface.

[cherryeclipses]

the little things

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: The moments between hunts where you and Dean can pretend to be a normal couple

Fluff, implied smut, no gender mentioned, Dean is a softie, 1 use of Y/N (also im horrible at writing smut sorry babes), wrote in like 30 minutes so not my best work...

Word count: 1.3k

⛧⃝

Dating Dean was tough at times, he was stubborn, self-sabotaging, and put everyone else's needs before his own. But the most difficult part was the fact that you were both hunters. It left barely any time to connect and do normal couple 'things.' Occasionally there were rare moments in between hunts where you could relax and even have a little fun, these were the moments you two cherished, even if it was just five minutes.

⛧⃝

You sighed, searching your pockets for the motel room key, you had just a finished a week long hunt solo taking out a small nest of vampires. As you pushed the door open, longing for a hot shower and bed to sleep in, you froze, whipping your shotgun out of your waistband. "Woah, woah, it's just me sweetheart." A familiar voice drawled. You flipped the light switch, "Dean?!" "You expecting any other men?" He chuckled as you wrapped your arms tightly around his waist, pulling him into a tight hug. You hadn't seen your boyfriend in nearly 2 months. He had been off with Sam, searching for their father and you had been busy with your own hunts. "What are you doing here?" You pulled away to get a good look at his handsome face. "I came for the scenery." He joked, "I came to see you idiot, what else?" "Did you find John?" You questioned. "Ah, it's a long story. A lot has happened since I spoke to you last week. But don't worry about that, I don't want to talk about work tonight." He leant down to kiss your lips, you melted into him, he smelt divine like old leather and vanilla. Your hands travelled up his chest, holding onto the man as if he was about to disappear. Nothing would be able to pull the two of you off each other, except the low growl of your stomach. Dean pulled away from you and your cheeks blushed. "C'mon let's order some food then we can get to the fun stuff." Dean laughed.

The two of you were sprawled out on the old motel couch, fast food wrappers littered the coffee table. You glanced over at your boyfriend, his eyes glued to the TV. It felt so nice to have him back, as much as you were glad him and Sam were getting along again you selfishly missed seeing him everyday. "Take a picture, it'll last longer." Dean said, breaking you out of your thoughts. "Maybe I will." You poked your tongue out at the boy. "I really have missed you Dean, thank you for surprising me." "It's nothing, honestly I couldn't stand being away from you a minute longer. Was driving Sammy crazy." You giggled, leaning your head on his muscular shoulder, your eyes suddenly feeling heavy, you had almost forgotten how exhausted you were. Deans hands playing with your hair absentmindedly, sending you to sleep.

⛧⃝

The sound of Dean softly humming ACDC woke you, you sat up straight in your seat, your neck was stiff from leaning against the side of the impala for hours. You had been driving for what felt like forever, leaving before the sun had set, it was now pitch black outside, you looked out the window to see nothing but bright stars in the sky and no other cars on the road ahead. "Hey there sleepy head." Dean teased. "Hey yourself." You looked behind you to see Sam passed out in the backseat, snoring softly. "How far away are we?" "Almost there, another hour maybe." Dean mused, taking your hand in his, running his thumb gently over your knuckles. As much as you hated long drives it was nice to have some downtime with Dean. You leaned forward to turn up the music slightly before placing a kiss on Dean's cheek, his stubble prickling your lips. You softly moved your way down his cheek, placing gentle kisses along his neck. Dean moaned quietly, tilting his head so you had better access to his neck, eyes still focused on the road. You took the encouragement and travelled further down his neck, lingering on his collarbone. He shuffled in his seat, you could tell he was getting worked up but trying to play it cool. You smiled and pulled away, returning to your spot in the passenger seat. "Can you guys not wait until we get to the motel?" Sam groaned from the backseat. You laughed, feeling sorry for the poor guy "sorry Sam. hands off from now on, I promise." You held your hands up in surrender. Dean didn't say a word but put his foot down on the accelerator, determined to get there as fast as his Baby would let him.

⛧⃝

"Hey Bobby, where's the sugar?" You called from the kitchen. "Second cupboard from the left." He answered from the doorway. You had spent the weekend at Bobby's, helping him with research for Sam and Dean. You sang quietly to yourself as you zipped round Bobby's kitchen, the boys were on their way back and you wanted them to come home to some real food. It was also a distraction for you from all the reading and worrying you had done all weekend long. "Would you let me help you?" Bobby asked. "Nope. There's more beer in the fridge, so go sit down, relax, and don't read any more damn lore books." The old man chuckled, nodding in response and leaving you to do what you needed.

"Honey, we're home!" Dean called out as he and Sam walked through the front door. "Hey Bobby, where's Y/N?" "In the kitchen." Bobby answered the eldest Winchester brother. "What are you -" Dean was cut off when he saw the spread on the dining table. The small table was full with all kinds of food, steak, vegetables, salad, fries, you name it, it was probably there. "Hey - woah did you spend all weekend cooking?" Sam asked as he walked in to the kitchen, eyes wide. "I think I'm gonna marry you" Dean faked a tear as he pulled you in for a kiss. "I thought you deserved a nice meal for once and honestly I was sick of reading! So sit, all of you and dig in. Please." As the men settled in for dinner the oven timer dinged. "More food?" Bobby asked, surprised. "Oh um, it's actually a surprise for Dean." You said, standing up to attend to the oven. You returned holding a steaming hot cherry pie. Dean's jaw dropped, "Have I ever told you how much I love you." He asked stunned. "Maybe once or twice." You shrugged.

⛧⃝

You awoke to sunlight streaming through the torn motel curtains, you rolled over, noticing Dean wasn't beside you. You stretched out across the mattress, contemplating going back to sleep until you heard the sound of the shower running. Sleepily you made your way to the bathroom, tossing your oversized shirt (the t shirt Dean wore yesterday) across the room and removing your pyjama pants once you were in the bathroom. You pulled back the shower curtain to reveal your boyfriend, taking a moment to revel in his beauty, his tan skin glistening with water droplets. "Good morning." He said with a goofy grin. "Morning" You replied, stepping into the shower and placing a soft kiss to his lips. Your hands found their way to his hair, gently massaging his scalp Dean hummed with pleasure, his hands travelling down your damp body, squeezing your hips and bringing you closer towards him. You slowly pulled away leaning your head back to allow the water to run through your hair. Dean took the opportunity to sprinkle kisses along your neck and down your chest. You let a moan escape your throat, he pushes you against the shower wall continuing to kiss you all the way down your body, lingering where you were most sensitive before standing up to meet your gaze. "I should wake up early more often." He mumbles, his voice deep, sending shivers down your spine. "I think we should make a habit of this." You say with a grin. Dean's hands find their way to your waist again "I agree." he says with a kiss before spinning you around to face the wall.

⛧⃝

[sunbl3achedfly]

Do the dead comfort you? Pt.2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Spencer does all he can to save you from the hands of a psychotic unsub, and he makes a promise to remain by your side in the aftermath of the ordeal.

Content: Dead bodies once again, (tw) torture, stalking, breakdowns, hospital visits, blood, (tw) sexual assault, trauma, Spencer to the rescue & being a tad protective of the pretty girl he only met once before, the reader realizes she can't use her morbid sense of humor to cope with everything, hurt/comfort I guess?

Author's note: Here’s part two!!! I was listening to Ethel's new album while writing this and holy moly I was in the zone and wrote most of it in one go. (Pulldrone is exactly what was playing when I wrote the scenes while she was kidnapped and I feel like the eery ambiance encapsulates the utter sense of dread and despair that hits the reader once she realizes how serious the situation is). Hope you all enjoy <33

Let me know if you guys want a part 3!!

5,331 words (it’s a long one aha)

part one

masterlist

When you finally managed to open your eyes again, a sharp, dull pain radiated through your skull. The harsh fluorescent lights above didn't help as they glared down at you. At least you weren't on the floor. Nope, just restrained to an ice-cold metal slab. Fancy that. This must be how all my patients feel before I embalm them.

You attempted to look around the room but the bright lights from above prevented you from doing so. As you regained consciousness, you began to realize that both your wrists and ankles were restrained to the embalming table. And you were only in your underwear. The panic had begun to set in and you tugged at the restraints, but to no avail, they wouldn’t budge.

"Struggling won't help", a voice echoed through the room, "I made sure of that."

Your head snapped to the right as you took in the man who now began leaning over you. At first, he didn't even look real. He stood over you, bathed in the cold, sterile glow of the morgue’s overhead lights, his figure stretched and distorted by your disoriented mind. A nightmare stitched together from shadows and flesh, from surgical steel and the sickly scent of embalming fluid. His eyes—God, his eyes—weren’t just looking at you; they were studying you, cataloging every inch of your body as if you were a specimen he was about to dissect.

On any normal day, his face may have been forgettable, the kind you’d pass on the street without a second thought. But at this moment, in this place, it was the only thing in the world. The sharp angles of his cheekbones cast deep, skeletal hollows in his skin, making him look half-dead, like something that had crawled out of the very slabs you worked on everyday. His mouth curled in something that wasn’t quite a smile, wasn’t quite a sneer—just wrong, like he wasn’t used to making expressions that mimicked human emotion.

Then came his voice, it slithered into your ears, so sickly sweet that it made you nauseous, "You’re quite the fighter, aren’t you? But they all stop fighting eventually.”

You tried your best to focus on anything else at that moment, the details of everything else but him. The thin, latex gloves that he wore, they were stretched way too tight across his knuckles. The way his coat —a pristine white lab coat, because of course it was—fluttered slightly as he moved, the motion strangely elegant. You could smell him too. He smelled clean, too clean, like antiseptic and soap, but underneath that all was something rotten, something decayed. Maybe it was just your imagination. Maybe it wasn’t.

As he began mulling over which embalming tool to pick up first, his fingers hovering over them as if one of them was beckoning to be chosen, you realized just how exposed you were. For the first time since waking up, at the mercy of this thing, wearing a man's skin—you started to believe you might actually die here.

The sound of splintering wood as the mortuary door crashed open was deafening. You flinched violently, your body instinctively pulling against the straps that pinned you to the cold metal table. Relief and terror fought for dominance in your chest.

They’re here. Oh God, they’re finally here.

But then, just when you had begun to relax for the first time in hours, you felt the scalpal press harder against your neck. The tip of it broke through skin, not deep, but enough to make your breath catch.

"Don’t move,” the unsub growled under his breath. His voice was sharp, his calm façade cracking under the pressure. You could feel the tremor in his hands now, the desperation radiating off him.

Your pulse thundered, the pain from the cut on your arm flaring as you tried to keep still. The various cuts and injuries that littered your body were nothing compared to the fear the tiny blade at your neck instilled in you. You bit down on your lip to stop it from trembling. Don’t panic. Don’t make this worse. They’re here. They’ll get me out of this. Please let them get me out of this.

"FBI! Drop the weapon!" A commanding voice filled the room.

"Come any closer and I slit her throat!" The man bellowed. Up until this point he had not raised his voice once, and the sheer volume caused you to flinch again, the scalpal breaking through more skin. You could feel a warm liquid trail over your collarbone.

Your eyes darted to the doorway, tears stinging as you caught sight of the dark vests, the guns, the agents—saviors. But the unsub only pressed closer, his body partially shielding you. The scalpel was an unrelenting threat, cold and unmoving against your skin. The sharp sting at your neck anchored you to the moment. A hot tear slipped down your temple. I’m going to die here.

From Spencer's position in the doorway, his sharp eyes took everything in. The unsub’s trembling hands, the scalpel pressed against your throat, your bloodied arm, and—God—your state of undress. His chest clenched painfully, guilt and anger battling inside him. He only hoped the unsub hadn’t gotten too far before they arrived.

She’s absolutely terrified. One wrong move and she’s dead. Come on Spencer, think!

His jaw tightened as he saw the unsub’s gaze flick toward him, possessive and unhinged. Spencer’s hands twitched, his instinct to charge forward barely restrained. Stay calm. She needs you to stay calm.

"You don’t want to do this,” he finally said, his voice softer than usual. He took a slow step forward, keeping his hands visible. Carefully, he raised them, shifting the gun away from the man. He was acutely aware of the five other guns trained on him, ready to fire if he made a wrong move, which was why he was willing to take the risk. “This doesn’t have to end badly. Let her go, and we can talk this through."

There was a slight pause in the unsub's movements.

“You’re in control right now,” Spencer continued, his tone gentle, almost soothing. “But if you hurt her, that control is gone. You don’t want that. You don’t want to make this worse.”

Spencer’s gaze flicked to yours, meeting your tear-filled eyes. You looked at him like he was your only lifeline. The desperation in your expression hit him like a punch to the gut. The only thought running through his mind like a mantra was that he needed to get her out of there, fast.

The tension in the room was suffocating, each second seemed to stretch on for eternity. Then, the unsub shifted slightly, but it was enough for Derek Morgan to lunge forward like a strike of lightning.

The scalpel hit the floor with a sharp clang as Hotch slammed into the unsub, yanking him away from the table. Chaos exploded around you—shouts, the scuffle of bodies struggling—but it barely registered. Your chest rose and fell in ragged gasps, your throat raw as you fought for breath, tears blurring your vision.

Spencer was at your side in an instant, undoing the restraints that held you down, while simultaneously giving you a once-over to take in any serious injuries he may need to keep in mind for the first responders.

You were in such a state that you barely registered whose hands were touching you and your heart rate immediately spiked. Your eyes were shut and you began thrashing on the table whilst whimpering loudly.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s over,” Spencer’s voice broke through the haze.

You blinked, realizing he was kneeling beside you, his hands moving to undo the straps that held you down. You flinched as his fingers brushed your wrist, a sob escaping your throat before you could stop it.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice soft but steady. “He can't hurt you anymore. I promise.”

As the final strap came loose, you tried to sit up, but your body wouldn’t cooperate. Your legs felt weak, your hands trembling so badly you couldn’t push yourself upright.

“Here—let me help you.” Spencer’s hands were gentle as he guided you into a sitting position, his movements careful, almost hesitant.

The moment you were upright, you instinctively reached for him, clutching his shirt as your body shook with silent sobs.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around you. His vest felt stiff under your cheek, but his touch was warm, steadying. “You’re safe. I promise, you’re safe now.”

You couldn’t stop crying, the reality of everything crashing over you. His hand rested lightly on the back of your head, the other drawing soothing circles on your back.

Spencer’s heart twisted at how small you felt in his arms, how vulnerable. Gone was the sarcastic, spunky girl who had left such a strong impression on him after just one meeting. He held you tighter, his own breath uneven as he fought to keep his emotions in check. She’s okay. She’s okay now. But she’s so scared. I need her to know she’s safe.

When you finally managed to speak, your voice was barely a whisper. “He almost…” Yet another sob prevented you from continuing.

Spencer shook his head, cutting you off gently. “But he didn’t. He didn’t, okay? You’re here. You’re safe.”

You buried your face in his chest again, your fingers clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. And in that moment, he didn’t care about protocol or what anyone else thought. All that mattered was comforting the girl with the shattered spirit in his arms.

The sharp, sterile scent of the hospital was the first to hit you as the nurse wheeled you through the emergency room doors. The fluorescent lights felt too bright, their clinical glow exposing every bruise, every scrape, and every jagged line of your vulnerability. They reminded you of the lights in the embalming room. The embalming room. That man. The tools piercing your skin.

You were vaguely aware of Spencer at your side, walking just close enough that his hand occasionally brushed against the armrest of the wheelchair. You wanted to tell him you were fine, that he didn’t have to stay, but every time you opened your mouth to speak, the words got stuck in your throat. You didn't want to do this alone.

The nurse guided you into a small room, where a doctor was already waiting. Spencer stopped just outside the doorway, shifting awkwardly, his hands buried in his pockets.

“We’ll take it from here,” the nurse said gently, giving him a polite but firm smile.

Spencer hesitated, his eyes darting between you and the nurse. You could see the conflict on his face, his shoulders tense like he was bracing for an argument.

You managed to find your voice, though it came out weaker than you intended. “Spencer…”

His gaze snapped to yours expectantly, his features softening.

“Can you… stay?” The words were barely a whisper, but the way his expression shifted—relief, determination, and something almost protective flashing across his face—made you feel a little steadier.

“Of course,” he said without hesitation, stepping into the room. He pulled up a chair near the bed, sitting close but giving you enough space not to feel overwhelmed.

The doctor began her examination, her voice calm and clinical as she asked you questions. “Any dizziness? Nausea? Are you in pain anywhere besides your arm?”

You answered automatically, your voice hollow as your mind wandered. The doctor’s questions blurred together with the sting of antiseptic on your wounds, and the rustle of the hospital gown you’d been asked to change into felt deafening in the quiet.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the unsub’s hands on you, the way his gaze had stripped you of every ounce of dignity. The memory was suffocating, curling around your chest like a vice.

Spencer’s voice cut through the fog, grounding you. “Hey,” he uttered softly, his brow furrowed with concern. “You okay?”

You blinked, realizing the doctor had finished and was watching you with the same concerned expression.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, though your voice lacked conviction.

Spencer didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press. Instead, he waited until the doctor left the room before leaning forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees as he studied you.

After a few minutes of silence, he spoke up again, "You're not fine."

You looked down at your hands, the hospital gown feeling too thin, too revealing, despite being more covered than you were earlier. You didn't know how to respond.

Spencer hesitated, noticing the sudden vulnerability in your expression. “I uh... I need to ask you a few questions… about what happened. It’s just procedure—to make sure this guy gets what he deserves. We don't have to do it now, but I'm here when you're ready.”

The sincerity in his tone made something in you crack. You weren’t ready to talk, not yet, but the way he said it—as if there was no question that he would be there for as long as you needed—made you feel a little less alone.

“You don’t have to stay,” you said quietly, though the thought of him leaving made your stomach twist.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said firmly. “Not until you’re ready for me to, at least.”

You glanced up at him, expecting to see pity in his eyes, but all you saw was quiet determination. It made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t expected.

You took a shaky breath, your hands clenching into fists as you tried to steady yourself. “Ask the questions,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, but firm with determination.

Spencer’s brow furrowed as he leaned forward slightly, his voice soft but insistent. “You don’t have to right now. We can wait until you’re ready. You don’t have to rush through it.”

But you shook your head, a flicker of something fierce in your eyes. “No… I want to do this now. If I don’t… I won’t ever.” The words tasted bitter in your mouth, but you pressed on, your heart pounding as the weight of what you were about to do sank in. “I need to nail this bastard. For me, for them… for everyone he’s hurt.”

Spencer remained quiet for a moment, watching you carefully, weighing your words. Finally, he nodded, his expression unreadable but softening with understanding. “Alright..." he hesitated, "This is going to sound silly, but can you close your eyes for me and tell me... what he did to you?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the request. For a moment, you didn’t know how to react. But the quiet, sincere way he asked you made something inside you settle, just a little. The room felt quieter now, the world shrinking down to just the two of you.

Closing your eyes, you tried to push the memories to the surface, to bring them into focus. Your heart beat faster, but you steeled yourself, knowing this was the only way to make him pay.

"When I woke up from being knocked out… I was tied down to the embalming table in my underwear, the straps were tight," you began slowly, rubbing your wrists absentmindedly. The sensation of the straps still lingered, and it made your skin crawl. "I couldn’t move."

Spencer stayed silent, his gaze never leaving you, his presence grounding you even as the weight of the memories pressed in. "Take your time," he said quietly, voice gentle but firm.

You took a shaky breath, nodding, trying to find the strength to continue. "He... he just stood there for a while, watching me. I could feel his eyes on me, like... he was enjoying it." You paused, swallowing the bitterness in your throat. "I couldn’t even scream. I just had to wait for him to decide what he wanted to do next."

Spencer’s jaw tightened, his mind was piecing it together, filling in the gaps even if you didn’t want him to. But he said nothing, giving you the space to speak. You appreciated that more than you could express.

There was no avoiding it. You had to talk about it. You had to say the words, had to help the FBI put together the full picture. You took a slow breath, trying to keep your voice steady.

“He—he used different embalming tools.”

Spencer looked up sharply, he noticed the pained expression on your face and realised just how hard this was going to be for you.

Your heart started to pound. As soon as you said it, the memories came rushing back.

The metal table was freezing against your bare skin, your body trembling with something beyond the cold. You pulled at your restraints, but they were too tight, digging into your wrists and ankles.

“I’ve always been fascinated by preservation,” the unsub mused, his fingers trailing over a set of gleaming instruments. “The way death can be… delayed. How a body can be made beautiful again.”

You didn’t say anything. Your throat was raw from screaming earlier, and you were running out of ways to keep yourself from panicking.

The unsub turned, holding up an embalming trocar—long, sharp, and glinting under the fluorescent light. “Did you know this is used to remove fluids and gases from a body before preservation?” He traced the tip lightly down your abdomen, not pressing hard enough to break skin. “It’s important to prepare the body properly.”

Your breathing hitched, and you clenched your jaw, forcing yourself not to react.

His expression darkened. “You’re supposed to be still,” he murmured, and without warning, he pressed down.

Pain flared white-hot in your side as the tip of the tool pricked your skin, just enough to draw blood. You gasped, your body instinctively jerking against the restraints.

The unsub sighed, shaking his head. “Messy,” he muttered, wiping the small bead of blood with his gloved hand. “I’ll have to try again.”

You inhaled sharply, coming back to yourself. The hospital bed, the warmth of the blanket, the steady presence of Spencer beside you—it was enough to pull you out of the memory, but your skin still burned where the tool had touched you.

Spencer’s knuckles were white where he gripped his knees. His breathing was slow, controlled, but his eyes—his eyes were burning with something deep and unsettled.

“He used a trocar,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “He—he didn’t go deep, but he wanted to see me flinch.”

Spencer squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, like he was trying to will away the image forming in his mind. “And the other injuries?” he asked, his voice strained.

You swallowed. “A needle. He… he injected something into my leg. Some kind of preservative, I think. It burned.”

Another flash—

The burn spread up your thigh, a fire beneath your skin. You cried out, muscles seizing, your entire body locking up.

The unsub tilted his head, watching with interest. “Formaldehyde is quite versatile,” he said conversationally. “It won’t kill you. Not yet. But I wonder how much your body can handle before it starts shutting down?”

You bit down on your lip, hard enough to taste blood.

You took a slow, shaky breath, forcing yourself back into the present. The hospital bed. The warmth of the blanket. The steady presence of Spencer beside you.

Spencer’s hands had curled into fists. His jaw was clenched so tightly you could see the muscle twitching.

“What else?” he asked, voice strained.

You hesitated again. “He used the embalming pump.”

Spencer’s breath audibly caught in his throat.

The hum of the embalming machine filled the room, a steady, mechanical noise that only added to the horror of the moment.

You were still strapped down, too weak to fight, but your breath was coming in panicked gasps as the unsub adjusted the tube connected to the pump.

“This is a test,” he murmured, almost absently. “A small amount, just to see how the body reacts.”

You barely processed his words before you felt the cool sensation of liquid seeping into your veins.

Your vision blurred for a moment. It wasn’t enough to kill you—not yet. But it left you dizzy, sluggish, your limbs feeling even heavier than before.

“Fascinating,” the unsub muttered to himself. “I wonder how much you can take.”

You swallowed hard, forcing the words out. "The last thing he did... he told me exactly what he was going to do to me. Everything he'd done to his other victims—every single cut, every injection, every—"

Your breath hitched, your throat closing around the words.

"But I—I was going to be his favorite," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Because I had spunk. Because I fought back."

A shudder ran through you, your entire body recoiling from the memory. You couldn't say the rest. You didn't need to say the rest. The way his voice had darkened, the way he'd described it, savoring every detail like a promise—

You squeezed your eyes shut, as if that could block it out.

Spencer's hand closed over yours, grounding you. His grip was firm, steady, as if willing you to feel something other than that sickening sense of violation crawling under your skin.

“That’s enough,” he said, his voice low but unwavering.

You shook your head, your breathing uneven. “But you need to know—”

“I do know,” Spencer cut in, his voice sharp but gentle. His jaw was clenched, his eyes burning with something unreadable—but underneath it, there was a quiet, unshakable promise. “You’ve given us enough.” He exhaled, slow and controlled, but his next words carried the full weight of his conviction.

“He’s never going to hurt anyone ever again. I swear to you—I’ll make sure he rots in prison for the rest of his life.”

A sob caught in your throat, but you swallowed it down. You weren’t ready to cry—not yet. But for the first time since it happened, you felt the faintest flicker of relief.

Spencer wasn’t just listening. He was hearing you. And he was going to make sure you got justice.

You weren’t alone in this.

And for now, that was enough.

As the night wore on, the hours began to blur together. You knew you wouldn't be able to sleep that night, and as guilty as it made you feel, Spencer didn't seem to mind. Throughout the night, nurses came and went, checking your vitals, re-bandaging your arm, and murmuring reassurances that didn’t quite reach you. And through it all, Spencer stayed.

The hospital room had settled into an almost eerie calm. Machines beeped softly in the background, and the dim lighting made everything feel slower as if the world outside had paused. You were sitting up in the hospital bed, the scratchy blanket pulled tight around your shoulders. Spencer sat in the chair beside you, his legs crossed, thumbing through a book he’d found somewhere in the waiting area at a speed you didn't think was humanly possible.

The silence was interrupted by the sound of the door creaking open. The FBI agent that had first pushed the unsub away from you in the embalming room stepped inside. At first, his presence intimidated you, his muscular frame and broad shoulders made him an imposing figure, but there was an undeniable warmth in his deep brown eyes. His smooth, dark skin contrasted with the sharp angles of his jawline, and a hint of stubble shadowed his face. He was holding two cups of hospital jello, one red, the other green.

“Thought you two could use a little pick-me-up,” He said, holding the cups aloft with a charming smile. “It’s not gourmet, but it’s better than nothing.”

You managed to return a weak smile back, taking the red jello as he handed it to you. Spencer set his book aside and accepted the green one without hesitation.

“Thanks, Morgan,” Spencer said.

Morgan gave you both a once-over, his gaze softening when it landed on you. “If you need anything, just holler. But I’ll give you two some space.” He gave Spencer a pointed look as if to silently remind him to keep an eye on you, then slipped out of the room.

You began poking at the jello with the plastic spoon. The silence stretched between you and Spencer, not uncomfortable, just heavy with unspoken things.

"You know", you said finally, your voice a little raspy, “jello might be the most depressing food ever invented.”

Spencer glanced up from his cup, his lips quirking in a faint smile. There she is. “It does have a strange texture. Did you know it’s made from gelatin, which comes from—”

“Animal bones,” you finished for him, giving him a sidelong look. “Yeah, I’ve heard.”

He blinked, a little surprised, then nodded. “Right. I guess... you would know that.”

You smirked faintly, the smallest flicker of your usual sarcasm peeking through. “What can I say? I'm full of fun facts. Comes with the job, really.”

Spencer tilted his head, studying you once again. "Your job... I can't imagine it's easy," he said carefully, his voice gentle.

You hesitated, your spoon hovering just above the jello. For a brief moment, you considered brushing him off with a joke or changing the subject like you usually would. But when you met his gaze, there was something about the way he was looking at you. God, stop looking at me like that. His unwavering, earnest stare made you feel safe enough to answer honestly.

“It isn't most of the time” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “But it’s worth it.”

Spencer didn’t respond right away. Instead, he kept his gaze on you, his expression soft yet intent—like he was trying to unravel everything you weren’t saying. His eyes, sharp with quiet intelligence, searched yours as if they could decode the weight you carried, the thoughts you never voiced, the depth you kept hidden from the world.

There was something about you that fascinated him—not just your words, but the silences between them, the guarded way you spoke about things that mattered. He could tell there was so much more beneath the surface, layers of emotion and experience you refused to share. And yet, just for a moment, it felt like he could see them anyway.

He finally spoke, "Why?"

You sighed, setting the jello cup on the bedside table. “Because… when I embalm and prepare a body, when I make someone look like the person they were before…” You paused, swallowing hard. “I get to give their family one last chance to say a proper goodbye. One last moment where they can see the person they loved, not the person the world left behind.”

Spencer kept his gaze steady as he took in your words. He could tell how much those words meant to you. Surprisingly, his expression held a little bit of understanding and even awe.

"That's... incredible." he said finally, "I had never thought of it that way."

You huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. "Yeah, well… not everyone thinks it's incredible. Most people just think it’s creepy."

Spencer’s lips quirked into the smallest smile. "I mean, technically, you do spend a lot of time with dead bodies."

You gave him a pointed look. "And you spend a lot of time profiling serial killers, but you don’t see me calling you creepy."

Spencer tilted his head, considering that for a moment. "Fair point."

A comfortable silence settled between you, the heaviness of the conversation lifting just a little.

Before the conversation could continue you blurted out, "Thank you."

Spencer glanced at you, “For what?”

“For staying,” you said simply.

He hesitated for a moment, then gave a small nod. “I couldn’t leave,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “Not when you…” He trailed off, looking down at his hands. “I just couldn’t.”

You nodded, understanding more than words could convey. For the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel completely alone.

As you leaned back against the pillows, your eyes growing heavy, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you were going to be okay.

After your third day in the hospital, you were finally discharged. The hospital doors slid open with a quiet hiss, letting in a crisp evening breeze. You inhaled deeply, filling your lungs with fresh air—something that didn’t reek of antiseptic or overcooked hospital food. The gauze beneath your shirt still tugged slightly with each breath, but the soreness was manageable.

Freedom. Finally.

Beside you, Spencer hovered with the same quiet intensity he’d had when you arrived at the hospital, arms crossed like he wasn’t entirely convinced letting you leave was a good idea.

“You know, I appreciate the escort,” you said, adjusting the strap of your bag over your good shoulder, “but unless you’re planning on kidnapping me back to my hospital bed, I think I can manage from here.”

Spencer blinked. “I just— I wanted to make sure you got out okay.”

You smirked. “What, did you think I’d trip over my own feet and fall into traffic?”

“I— statistically, you’re not at full mobility, and with your pain medication, your reflexes might be slightly impaired—”

You rolled your eyes. “Spencer, I’m not going to faceplant into the street.” Then, after a beat: “At least, not immediately.”

The corners of his lips twitched, like he was trying not to smile but failing miserably.

The silence stretched for a moment. For all his intelligence, Spencer still looked like he wanted to say something but hadn’t quite figured out the words. His hands twitched at his sides, like he was debating reaching out.

You tilted your head at him. “You okay there, Doc?”

He cleared his throat, straightening. “I just— I hope you know that you, um… don’t have to go through this alone.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I mean, I was alone in the embalming room with a serial killer, so technically—”

Spencer shot you a look.

You snorted. “Okay, okay, I get it. Not the time."

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just meant… I know how trauma can make people isolate themselves, and I just wanted you to know that you have people who care.”

You nodded slowly. There was a warmth in your chest at the sincerity in his voice—softer, earnest.

“Well, in that case,” you said, shifting your weight to your good side, “since you care so much, would you... wanna get dinner sometime?”

Spencer’s mouth opened, then closed. Then opened again. “Dinner?”

“Yeah, you know. The thing where people sit at a table, order food, and consume it?” You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I mean, unless you don’t want to—”

“No! I mean— I do! I just—” He ran a hand through his hair, looking both overwhelmed and adorable in a way that made you bite back a grin.

You decided to put him out of his misery. “Spencer," your voice softened, "I’m trying to ask you on a date.”

He froze.

“Oh.”

You smirked. “Yeah. Oh.”

Spencer’s brain seemed to reboot in real time. “I—yes! Yes, I would like that.”

Your smirk softened into something more genuine. “Good. You can pick the place.”

He nodded, still looking slightly dazed. “Right. I, um, I’ll text you.”

You chuckled, stepping back toward the curb where your ride was waiting. “See you soon, Doctor Reid.”

Spencer stood there as you got into the car, still blinking, like he was trying to process what had just happened.

As you pulled away, you saw him through the rearview mirror—standing there, hand running through his hair, a small, boyish smile tugging at his lips.

For the first time in a long time, despite everything that had happened, something felt right.