#on my way to stalk his journals

[ozzgin]

The wonderful wizard Ozz. I have had this concept stuck in my head like a worm!

Could you imagine a Darling escaping from their Yan, not to run but just to feel the rain on their skin? I've been consuming this prompt like a heroin addict and I can't seem to get enough!

If I were to expand your prompt, I quite like the idea of a Yandere that can't really go full yandere because Reader is just too willing. He loves yandere content and can very much relate, but none of the escalations can happen if, well, the object of his obsessive affection doesn't protest in the first place. Is it too far fetched from what you'd imagined? Let me elaborate:

Yandere! Male x Willing! Reader

AKA: When you want to be a Yandere, but your Darling unfortunately cooperates.

The Yandere has been stalking Darling for months. Journal entries, walls plastered with photos (and the occasional creepshots), recordings. He just can't get enough of his Darling. He loves everything about you and can barely function throughout the day, fantasizing about your life together.

Enough is enough and he finally decides to make you his. He's been consuming media of similar tropes, with obsessed men pleading for a chance and having to force their way in because of rejection and fear. He's prepared for everything. Your tears, your trembling voice, your hands pushing him away. He finds you, approaches you and confesses his feelings, knuckles white as he grips his fists in anticipation. Your eyes widen for a moment, before narrowing in a smile. "I had no idea! Sure, I'll go out with you." Huh? Wait. This wasn't...this wasn't in the plan. Somehow he'd been certain you'd refuse. He must've mumbled the last part out loud, because you respond with "Why would I say no?"

A very good point indeed. You will change your mind, however, once you learn the extent of his love. You're holding his hand and following along as he takes you to his place, completely and utterly unaware of what you're about to witness. He can't truly be your boyfriend if he has to hide his very nature, after all. You might be disgusted, frightened, offended. He can already hear your screams, demanding explanations. It's all out of love. "It's okay if you don't understand", he mumbles to himself, watching your frozen body as you gaze into his room. You take a couple of steps towards the nearest wall, tracing the hundreds of images with your fingers. "Wow. You never mentioned being into photography", you remark, impressed. "It's like an exhibition! But...you might have to work on your angles", you blurt out, a little embarrassed, pointing to one of the creepshots. "This isn't very flattering. Did you take it in a hurry? It makes my legs look disproportionate." He can only stare, taken aback. "S-sorry" is all he manages.

Okay, but don't imagine your life will continue as usual. You've only seen a glimpse of his adoration. Now that you're officially dating, he cannot allow anyone else to have access to you. You have to understand, he cannot protect you properly if you're not under his watch all the time. As much as he cherishes you, he will have to be rough if needed. That's what he tells himself as he shoves the required tools in the trunk of his car, speeding towards your apartment. Once there, he fidgets on the sofa, considering his speech. You seem to be just as uneasy - perhaps you're predicting what's to come? - casting your eyes down and giving short answers. "I think you should move in with me." He states solemnly. You gasp and throw a hand over your mouth, and tears quickly well in the corner of your eyes. "How did you...how did you know?" You say between sobs. Huh? "I didn't want to burden you with my problems, seeing as we just started dating...but my landlord won't renew the lease. I was so scared I'd be homeless."

He clicks his tongue. This isn't very yandere, more like the average couple experience. You bring the final moving box to his car, fitting it in the trunk. "By the way, what's with all the rope?" you ask. "Just move it aside", he sighs. How can he explain it? He's been training, sweating and bleeding for a marathon and right before the whistle, they handed him the first prize. His muscles are aching for the sprint that never happened. Of course he's grateful to have you at last, but somehow he feels like he hasn't proven his dedication properly. You just don't get it, do you? How sickening his love is for you.

As the days pass, he eases into his role of...how does one even call it? Pseudo-captor? When you found his journal, you blushed and confessed how no one before him put this amount of effort into knowing you. All the male contacts from your phone vanishing? It was about time you cleaned up your acquaintances and it was nice of him to help. The AirTags he's hidden in your bags and pockets? You appreciate his safety concerns. Nowadays, with all these perverts freely walking the streets, you can never be too sure.

One morning he wakes up to an empty bed. He jolts up, dazed. Could it be his wish was finally granted? You must've gotten tired of him and tried to escape. Oh, silly little Darling love. You should've known there's no more walking out once you said yes. He checks his phone and pounces out, ready for the hunt. As he sprints along the street, he finds you suspiciously close to his home. Not very smart of you to...what are you even doing? Your hands are raised up, fingers fanned out under the pouring rain. You notice his presence and turn to face him with a wide, childish grin. "I haven't done this since I was a child. When was the last time you felt the rain on your skin?" Only now it occurs to him he's been running in this downpour and his clothes are soaked. He was too focused on finding you.

"I thought you escaped", he almost whispers. "Escape? From what?" You tilt your head in confusion. He places his cold, large hands over your cheeks. "Do you comprehend I'm very much obsessed with you? I'm not joking around. You're never, ever leaving me. You're stuck here forever. I mean it. I really do. I'd rather kill you with my own hands than let you go. Because I love you." You take a moment to admire the intricate patterns of his irises, pupils dilated in a spiraling madness. By the end of his erratic oration, he's panting and digging his nails into your skin.

"I know."

[st4rymoon]

♱ 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 ♱

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟕: 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐲 | 18+ | 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Warnings: DARK CONTENT! This is your warning! 18+, Predator x prey, language, cursing, fearful situations, handcuffs, dubconish but it’s consensual?, rough sex!, mean Miguel, pet names, hair pulling, p in v, fingering, unprotected sex!, breeding kink, possessive miguel

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫-𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

Miguel felt like an asshole but he couldn’t stop thinking about what he read in your journal. Both of you went on a fall vacation together deciding to take a break from the stress of running the spider society.

You’ve been dating for around a year now and yesterday he did something he thought he’d never do. While you were in the shower, your journal sat on the nightstand only inches away from him full your secrets.

He was fighting himself internally but the urges got the best of him. Scanning through the pages his eyes stopped at his name, he read the words written on the dainty pieces of paper.

He could feel his face heat up as he took in your deepest desires. His eyes widening at the words ‘I want to feel the adrenaline rushing through me as he stalks through the woods and finds me’ he couldn’t stop reading.

Once you were out of the shower your journal was back in its usual place. You walked out with a towel wrapped around your body, the fresh droplets of water dripping down your skin as you made your way to the bed and changed into your pjs.

Ever since then you could tell Miguel was in his head more that usual. He would watch you with far more precision, his eyes would lingering on your for seconds too long.

You were on the couch, watching some tv as you munched on some popcorn. Miguel said he’d be back in a few so you wasted no time to get comfortable. A few hours passed when you heard the door open.

You turned back with a smile as you faced Miguel, your faced dropped in amusement as he walked in with a full black outfit and a duffel bag in hand “did you rob a bank?” You joked as he walked up to you.

“Ha ha very funny” he hummed as he placed the bag next to you “go get changed into this, we’re going somewhere doll” Miguel hummed.

You smiled and picked up the bag, making your way to the bathroom. You placed the bag onto the counter and rummaged through it.

A set of black panties and a bra with a matching dress and some shoes. What in the hell was this man planning? Both of you robbing a bank?

You laughed to yourself as you changed into the things he gave you and fixing yourself up in the mirror. Once you were finished you walked into the living room, in front of you sat Miguel with his legs spread and hands between his legs as he leaned forward. His head tilted up as he saw you walk over to him.

“Where are we going this late at night? The bar?!” You jumped as you remembered the tasty drink you got a few days ago. Miguel shook his head as his hands trialed up the sides of your thighs.

“siéntate” he hummed, pulling you onto his lap and pinning you onto him. His face dropped into the crook of your neck, his tongue softly running up your neck and sucking softly. You let out a moan as his fingers made their way to the back of your dress and lifting the thin material up so he could play with your panties.

“Miguel” you whined as he moaned into you “I read that little journal of yours sweetheart, what did you mean about stalking you through the woods mhm?”

You tensed up in his lap “I- I- it wasn’t-“ you didn’t know what to say now caught red handed. You felt your body heat up in embarrassment “why are you reading through my journal in the first place?” You tried to change the finger pointing to him “don’t switch the conversation honey, you really want me to hunt you down in the woods? Catch you like a fox hunts a bunny?” He hummed.

You whined at his words, he was pushing you to talk and you couldn’t bare his teasing. You had a dirty secret you thought he’d never find out. You’ve always had an on going fantasy of playing cat and mouse games in the woods. Not with strangers but with someone you could really trust, someone you could live out your sick fantasies with.

It really didn’t help realizing a year into your relationship with Miguel that he drew you these fantasy’s even more. You fantasized about him hunting you like prey, his huge figure stalking the woods in mere silence with his spider man capability’s.

You’ve never thought about it with your ex’s, you felt like you always had the advantage being spider woman if you’d follow threw with it. But with you and Miguel having spider abilities and your own special talents, it seemed far thrilling.

You didn’t say a word as Miguel’s gaze burned through you “answer me” he sternly spoke. All you did was nod your head “words” he cooed, your checks being squished by his hands as he held you up to his face.

“Yes, I’m sorry you had to Read th-“ before you could apologize his lips crashed onto yours. You could feel him throbbing in his slacks as he softly bucked his hips onto you.

“Don’t apologize muñeca, don’t do that” he moaned, a string of saliva sticking to your lips as he pulled back softly “do you trust me?” He hummed.

“Of course I do Miguel. I trust you with everything I have in me” you whispered while trying to attach your lips onto his again. He let your lips connect but he still continued to speak “what if we played this little game of yours here? We’re in a cabin, woods all around us. But you’ll be safe love, I took care of everything already”

You kissed him rougher, Moaning into his mouth in agreement. “Yes” you nodded, Miguel smiled at the way your body warmed up in his hands. It didn’t help help that you were ovulating, he could smell your hormones radiating off you.

“Let’s go”

Miguel closed the door behind you and guiding you to the edge of the house “let me explain the rules” Miguel sighed. There was a new version of Miguel in front of you, he stood with his arms crossed with his eyes trained on you. It felt he was sizing you up while purposely trying to scare you.

“Firstly, the woods are safe, nothing inside that can hurt you or me. House is off limits no hiding inside. You don’t have to worry about getting lost I have that taken care of.” Miguel hummed. “Now for the important rules you’ll enjoy��

You squeezed your legs together as you stared up at him. Miguel chuckled as you did “ one, the most important rule if things get too much, use our safe word”

“Red, I know” you shrugged as you cut him off “good. If you manage to keep hidden from me, which I doubt, the game will end in 2 hours and you’ll know when they are up. You’ll win if the 2 hours go by. If I catch you and you get away, the game will continue on. If I catch you, I’ll get to do what I want with my prize”

You bit your lip, you didn’t fail to notice the bag he had wrapped around his back and you wondered what he had inside. Rope? Hand cuffs? A knife maybe? You didn’t care, you wanted all of it.

“If I win what will I get” you pout “what ever you want doll” Miguel winked. You nodded “lastly, no webs allowed until I catch your or you win. No swinging in trees but I’ll allow crawling. You listening? I know you love to break the rules but just know the game will end if you do” Miguel hissed while pointing a finger down at you.

“Yeah yeah” you rolled your eyes “when can we start?” You sigh. He hummed at your cockiness “you’ll get a 40 second start, once I say go you run” he nodded.

You repaid the nod and started into the eerie woods. You couldn’t wait for it to start, even though darkness swallowed everything around you; only allowing you to see the shadowed trees and rocks scattered along the tree line, you loved it.

“Ready sweetheart?” He hummed. “Yeah”

“1…2…3…” Miguel slowly counted, he paused for a few seconds making you look up at him. Before you could say anything he yelled go.

You looked into the woods and sprinted in, darting around and pushing past the trees as you looked around for a good hiding spot. You could hear Miguel counting in the distance, his voice fading away as you ran deeper into the woods.

You didn’t know how far you were in the woods but you knew you made some distance. You couldn’t see the light of the house, just pitched black with some highlights illuminated by your spider vision.

You sat with your arms wrapped around your knees as you sat behind a rock, making sure to quiet your breathing and listen to your surroundings. You perked up at the sound of foot steps. Your eyes darted around, nose smelling everything around you as your senses heightened.

No fucking way it was Miguel, it couldn’t end this fast.

Your heart was beating as you heard the crunching growing closer. You looked down at your feet, a few inches away you see a small shadow and hear a ribbit.

The crunching and flopping of a frog jumping around making you sigh as you noticed it stop near your feet. “Scared the shit out of me frog” you whispered.

Your moment was cut short as you heard whistling from behind “I can smell you love, you’re lucky it can’t lead me to you. You just fill all of my fucking senses” Miguel’s voice hums. Your legs squeezed together at the sound of his voice, the tone cold as the echos of his whistles ran through you.

You knew he was walking, the crunching and his voice sounding as if from the ground. You didn’t even think about him behind above you, even more of a precaution.

Not only did you have to watch out from down low but also from above. You could hear him getting closer, your heart heated in your chest as you looked around the ground for a rock.

You found a decent sized rock, peeking from above you and listened closely to the sound of his whistles before you picked a direction and threw the rock.

Miguel’s whistles stopped as the rock hit the ground, his footsteps running towards the rock in hopes of catching you.

You got up and ran, crawling onto a tree and hiding inside the leafs. “Aren’t you smart, trying to distract me? Thought you’d know better doll, now I know I’m close” he mocked.

You watched down below as you waited for him to appear. The heavy crunching of leafs letting you know he was on the ground.

A few seconds of silence was unsettling, no crunching, no whistles, just howls of owls and crickets filled your ears. He could be anywhere, for all you knew he could be behind you.

You heard a crack of a branch from behind you making you jump out of the tree. You heard Miguel’s dark chuckle from behind as he jumped onto the ground sprinting after you.

“This is just too easy” he cooed. You ran faster than you ever had, faster then you do when you run from enemies or anomaly’s. Miguel was surprised by your agility and speed but he wouldn’t give up.

Your heart was racing as you swerved through trees. You dumbly took a turn to slow, allowing Miguel to grab a fist full of your hair and yank you onto his chest. He hummed as you clawed at his chest, you had the fight in you, you didn’t want him to win this easily.

You twisted your leg behind his, dropping him onto the ground and loosening his grasp. He cursed as you ran even faster than before, a loud curse echoing behind you as he couldn’t catch up.

You were back on the ground, deciding that being in trees was a worse idea. You could feel the slick between your folds soaking your panties, your pussy was throbbing at the remembrance of how rough he was.

The way he yanked you onto him like you were nothing but a pillow was making you crazy. All you wanted to do was to move your panties to the side and rub your swollen little clit for some relief, but you knew better.

Minutes went by with nothing but the sounds of nature, your body relaxed as you finally got back to your normal breathing.

But as always, you could never get too comfortable.

You heard crunching yet again, this time you stood up quiet and walked behind a tree, hiding yourself behind the large bark.

You listened as the crunching stopped. You knew you really pissed Miguel off because he was so damn quiet now. Not a peep from him. No condescending words or teases.

You took a breath, eyes closed as you listened closer. “You look so damn pretty” you heard from besides you. Your eyes snapped open and looking to your left, there was Miguel leaning on the tree besides you.

“Shit” you cursed, running with force as you tried to get as far away from him. “Not again sweetheart” he hissed as he wrapped a hand around your mouth, pinning you onto his back and this time allowing himself to fall back onto a tree.

His other hand wrapped around your waist as he lowered the both of you onto the ground. You kicked at his legs as he whispered praises in your ear.

“Oh come on, give it up already I won” he hummed. You could feel how hard he was as he sat you up on his lap, his legs wrapping onto yours to cage you between him.

“You smell so fucking good honey, pussy is begging me to touch you” he moaned as his hand slipped into your panties.

You let out a moan as his calloused fingers ran through your folds, your slick coating his thick fingers as he groaned at the sound of how wet you are.

“Oh honey, listen to how wet you are. My poor little girl needs me huh?” He hummed into the crook of your neck. “F- fuck” you panted out, your nails dug into his arms as he rubbed on your swollen clit “I can feel you throbbing against my fingers doll, pussy is begging for me honey” he cooed.

You squirmed and whined as his hand wrapped around your throat; facing you up to him. The moonlight lit up his face as you stared up in awe at him. “Aww look at you, mi muñequita chula” Miguel was taking in the sight before him.

His beautiful girl spread wide between his thighs, eyes shimmering up at him. “Ple- mig” you cried “remember, I won so I’m in charge” he cooed.

Your body was shivering in need as he teasingly rubbed your clit. He pulled away as he turned you around to face him, he kept you pinned with one hand as he rummaged through his bag.

You pulled out some handcuffs from the bag, his hand kept you pinned on his chest as the other gripped your wrists and pinned them onto your back.

You moaned at the feeling of the cold metal tightening around your wrists. He was kind enough to not tighten them up too much to hurt but just enough to make it slightly uncomfortable to move.

Miguel was going crazy, your scent filled his senses, everything about you was driving him crazy. The way you looked so damn weak made him rock hard, he knew you couldn’t fight back with your hands cuffed, he knew you couldn’t protest.

“Need you” he huffed as he unbuckled his belt and kicked his boxers off. His cock flung out onto his stomach, pre cum spilling out of his angry tip as you whined in need.

You gasped as he ripped off your black lace panties and pulled your dress down, exposing your tits out for him. Miguel rubbed his tip between your folds, groaning at the feeling of your soaked pussy leaking all over him.

He aligned his tip into your oozing hole, pushing his hips into you as he stretched you out. A loud moan spilled out of you as he pistons his hips into you, his cock filling you to the brim as he holds your hips down onto his.

His eyes watched the way your plush tits bounced along with his hard slams. His head fell onto your tits, his mouth lapping and biting onto your skin as he fucked himself into you.

The way he held you felt so much different than he usually does in bed, it felt like he was ravaging his last meal. He fucked you on the damp soil, in the middle of the woods like he was giving into his deepest urges.

“Couldn’t believe you liked things like this doll, practically fucked myself into my hand thinking of something like this the first time we kissed. Imagined how you’d taste in this situation” he hissed.

You were bouncing along with his hard slams dumbly, your wrists slightly hurting from the restriction. His hand wrapped around you throat, pressing onto your throat as he lost himself in your pussy.

Your eyes were rolled back in your head and inaudible sentences spilled from you as the over whelming feeling of living out your deepest fantasy came true.

“You’ll never leave me, I’ll never let you go. You’re mine sweetheart, I’ll kill for you if I had too. Anything” Miguel muttered. You pussy clenched around him, his words making you moan as he picked up the pace. His pubic bone rubbed against your clit perfect, you fell onto his shoulders as you moved your hips onto his.

Your orgasm crashed upon you hard, your pussy throbbing and gushing around his fat cock. He continued his brutal pace, overstimulating you as his fingers played your with over worked clit.

“No no no” you cried as you shook onto his fingers “shhh” he hummed. He closed his eyes in ecstasy as he felt himself pulsing inside your walls, cock dripping pre cum into your cunt as he threatened to burst inside you.

“Fuck- fuck” Miguel hissed. A primal moan rumbled out of him as he spurted his seed inside you. He fucked his load into your tight cunt in hopes to make himself a daddy.

He envisioned you growing plump with his child as he rides out his high “a- ah ah fuck” he whined out. You could hear the wetness of each others cums as he overstimulated himself. He was shaking as your walls squeezed him perfectly.

You let out a tired moan as he finally slowed his pace and stilled inside you. Miguel unlocked your handcuffs weakly, allowing you to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

You sat there for a while, cock buried inside you as both of you took in the cold air. “I love you so much” Miguel whispered as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his hands moving down to your dress and lifting the fabric back up your chest.

“Lets get you back home”

[selenezq]

🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞MDNI🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞

I bring to you, a snack from my horny brain. Edited by the lovely @the-demon-of-a-thousand-eyes

Alastor x Reader

Reader is AFAB

CW Masturbation, Ejaculation, Thievery

Stealing Panties

Alastor stalked the hallways that lead to your room, careful to slip around using only the shadows. He certainly didn't want to be seen like this. With a speed and ease befitting a predator, he slipped into your room without anyone's notice. It smelled like you in here, he observed. Taking a moment to relish your sweet scent, he paused. 

You were gone for the day, running some errands for the hotel, so he wasn't worried about being caught in the slightest. Alastor found your presence absolutely baffling; never before had he worried about baser, more physical urges. That is, until your arrival at the hotel. Your innocence, sweetness, and positive demeanor coupled with your tantalizing body had him experiencing all sorts of new sensations. 

Alastor made his way to your desk, picking up papers and reading through the journal you had on it, looking for anything interesting. He made sure to place everything back exactly where he’d found it, like he had never been there at all. He wasn't even sure what he was searching for: something, anything to tell him more about you, he supposed. You were a beautiful mystery he very much wanted to unravel. 

Deciding there was little to be gained from reading over your notes, he made his way to your large dresser. Surely the massive piece of elegantly carved wood ought to hold better secrets; he was sure of it. Quietly pulling open a drawer at random, he was not disappointed. 

Inside the drawer sat neatly folded pairs of your panties. Alastor's gaze fell on them greedily. He knew he shouldn't be here, doing this, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. He was a man possessed by a mighty need for you. He raised a clawed hand up to them, carefully, reverently running it along your well organized undergarments. 

Selecting a red, lacy pair, he pulled the thong out gently. Alastor brought the pair to his nose and took a large inhale, wondering if your cunt would smell this pleasant. His cock hardened instantly in his trousers. He noted that the elegant, satiny material felt wonderful in his hand and against his face. It made him wonder how it might feel somewhere else on his body, somewhere much more sensitive. 

With the hand that isn't holding your undergarment, Alastor unbuttoned and unzipped his pants as quickly as he was able. His massive cock sprung free, red and swollen, precum beading at the tip. He brought your panties away from his face and placed them on his throbbing member, thoughts of your beautiful face swimming in his mind. 

The delicate, lacy material of your panties made for quite the welcome contrast against his hard, swollen, cock. He pumped his hand up and down along the length of his considerably large dick, starting out slow; he was unfamiliar with having the urge to do this. He wondered if your hands would feel as soft as your panties do around him. 

Alastor increased the pace, his hand pulling your underwear up and down his lengthy shaft eagerly. He let out a wicked groan, the thought of you helpless and submissive for him flitted across his mind. He wondered what sort of moans you would make if he were to touch you like this. 

His cock was slick with precum as he pumped faster and faster. With a stifled cry he orgasmed, cum shooting out of his tip in ropes all over your pretty panties. Alastor decided then and there that he had to take the pair of your panties with him. He certainly couldn't leave the evidence of his lust for you behind. Only slightly ashamed, he carefully shut the drawer before using his shadow to whisk himself away to the safety of his own room. Your panties, stained with his cum, were still in his hand.

[tinfoil-jones]

Jerk Ford AU: The Worst Ford You Know II: Cosmic Switcharoo

~15 or so years ago

"Ya know you can just… not do this, right? You are a squishy human that's not even that special. All you have is a brain that is outclassed by countless amongst the multiverse, and a sense of misplaced righteousness that ya deserve somethin' grander as retribution for being bullied."

"The Oracle said that I would be the one to-"

"-beat Bill Cipher, same face, yada yada yada."

"You have talked to The O-"

"For Pete's sake Stanford, every Stanford that is thrown in the multiverse has talked to her! All of us! She gave the same goddamn bullshit spiel to thousands of us- maybe more!

If we all had a grand destiny to beat Bill Cipher- with this many 'Destined Heroes', why the Hell is he still out there, causing problems and bein' a major bitch?"

"So you're just going to not even try?!"

"Why bother putting myself in harms way? Bill is going to be another distant Stanford's problem with another hero complex. Me on the other hand? I'm tryin' to get back home to my family, because I know there's at least one person who will accept me no matter how many fingers I have, no matter how much social decorum I don't have, and especially not a 'lack of ambition' that's only ever noticed by supercilious versions of us, like you."

"Mark my words, Jerk Ford; ignoring your Bill Cipher problem is going to bite you in the end. Also, your Jersey is showing."

"Mark these nuts, Bitch Ford; ya fly's been down the whole time."

*supercilious = behaving or looking as though one thinks one is superior to others.

[Dialogue primarily by @tearosepedall]

There's a lot of difference between Canon Ford (Ford-46'\) and Jerk Ford (Ford-PJC311), one of the first things is how they return to their dimension.

Before Canon Ford returned to his dimension, he was doing his last-stand against Bill Cipher, and he went into his own portal when it popped up to stop Bill from doing it first.

Jerk Ford had heard about how most 'good' versions of Ford Pines were doing that, but he didn't see a point in doing the same because it wouldn't get him home faster, and most if not all of them would most likely die. So he got drunk the parking lot of a Space Waffle House, and his portal showed up.

Even though he injected himself with a Drunk-B-Gone concoction that he created to end alcohol intoxication, it needed a minute to take full effect.

Anyway, this is how Canon Ford returned to his dimension:

Dipper: What...? Who is that?

Stan: The author of the journals... my brother.

Mabel: Is this the part where one of us faints?

Soos: Ohoho, I am so on it, dude.

Meanwhile, this is how Jerk Ford returned to his dimension:

Mabel, Dipper, Soos: …

Stan: …

Jerk Ford: …I'm okay. *thumbs up from the ground*

Now let's say, something went wrong, that some cosmic wires within the hologram of reality were crossed, and somehow, someway, Canon Ford and Jerk Ford went through each others portals instead of their own. Perhaps their chance meeting almost two decades ago did something, and now they're in the wrong universe.

In Dimension PJC311 (w/ Canon Ford):

Stanley is elated to see his brother, after three whole decades, finally! His hard work has paid off! He's so excited, he doesn't notice that Dipper starts visibly vibrating in anger as soon as "Author of the Journals" leave his mouth.

He greets his brother with open arms - although, the way Stanford stalks towards him, it's almost like he's about to hit him. And does he seem a bit more... serious?

He barely has time to look confused as Ford rears a fist back - there's a THUNK sound, but a blow never lands on Stan. Because Ford is now keeled over on the ground, holding the back of his head because Dipper had just wacked him with a metal fold out chair that he found.

Ford, on his end, is in pain and confused (but mostly okay because of his protective metal plate) as Stan takes the chair away and scolds Dipper, telling him to apologize because no matter how unhelpful his journals were, he's still family.

His journals, unhelpful? That can't be true. As Stan is still trying to get 'Dipper' to apologize, Ford pulls back out the Journal he'd just picked up off of the floor, and quickly scans over it.

It's in his cursive handwriting, and drawn in his hyper-realistic sketching style. But... the entries are wrong. They're worded in a way that tells the reader to do the opposite of what they should do. Anyone who follows the advice of this would end up hurt, ridiculed, cursed, or some combination of those.

Even after thirty years, Ford knows for a fact that he would never write his research like this.

The kids and Soos start demanding answers. Stanley starts giving the backstory of himself and his brother, the portal incident, and the thirty years spent trying to fix the thing, it becomes abundantly clear to Ford that this isn't his world when the details don't line up the way they should.

Forgave him for the Perpetual Motion Machine? They went to Backupsmore together? He was banned from every establishment in Gravity Falls? People think Stanley murdered him???

In Dimension 46'\ (w/ Jerk Ford):

Although Stan is confused (although he does also find it a little bit funny) that his brother stumbled out of the portal and landed flat on his face, he's so excited to finally see him that he let's it slide for now. As long as he doesn't get drunk around the kids in the future, he'll excuse this incident.

Jerk Ford recovers pretty quickly as his Drunk-B-Gone finally takes full effect, and he walks over to Stan, accepting and returning the hug offered. Dipper finds it strange that "The Author" walks right past his Journal on the floor, even though he clearly noticed it.

Moreover, Soos notices something just as Jerk Ford withdraws from the embrace and steps back to properly take in his surroundings.

Soos: Are those... are those crocs?

Jerk Ford: aRe thOsE CrOCs? Do you even hear yourself right now? Of course they're crocs. I'm almost sixty, The Drip can take the backseat.

Stanley is certainly taken aback- sure, his brother could be insensitive sometimes, but he's never seen him rapid-fire mock someone outright. Also, even after thirty years, he never saw his brother as the type to pick up and use modern slang.

Also, did he really just call the kids "Twerps"? Ford had never been a kid person, but-

The kids and Soos start demanding answers. Stanley starts giving the backstory of himself and his brother, the portal incident, and the thirty years spent trying to fix the thing, it becomes abundantly clear to Jerk Ford that this isn't his world when the details don't line up the way they should.

Turned his back on him? Homeless conman? They didn't speak for ten whole years? Stanley faked his own death???

In Dimension PJC311 (w/ Canon Ford):

This time, Ford does not give his half of the story, and uses the excuse that he needs a minute to collect himself. He doesn't know what dimension he's in, he just knows it isn't his own.

The motley crew of an alternate version of his brother, his apparent grand-niblings (one of which hates his guts), and a large hairless gopher (his nephew?) tell him about being encroached on by the U.S Government, and he handles them just like he did in canon; he is surprised however when Stanley tells him to only erase the memories he needs to, and not to add something unnecessary 'just because it would be funny'.

Stanley also questions how Ford forgot how to use the memory gun, considering he invented it.

Wait, what? Uh, it's been thirty years, he forgot some things.

When they get the agents off of their backs, Ford looks at what had once been his home. It was certainly more lively and lived in than when he had last been here. Things not entirely organized, some things out of place here and there but expected when there were two children in the house.

It was a home. And it wasn't his home, in more ways than one.

He notices a particular photo on the mantle - because he had a near-identical one, once upon a time. It was the one taken shortly after he'd mathematically proven Fiddleford's hologram theory. There's a few differences however; for one, Ford in the photo looks more smug than excited, for another, Fiddleford is enraged and looks like he's trying to strangle him, but the biggest difference is that Stanley is there and he's struggling hold Fiddleford back.

When he snoops around a bit, and in what must be Stan's office or study, he finds amongst other things on the wall (pictures of the twins, Soos throughout the years, and a red-headed girl appear quite frequently) that Stanley has a masters degree in Education and PhD in Analytical Chemistry. He has teaching awards going back decades.

Words that Stanford heard a lifetime ago and hadn't thought of in a long time come back to mind with startling clarity:

"No, no. You don't understand what I've been through! I've been to prison in three different countries! I once had to chew my way out of the trunk of a car! You think you've got problems? I've got a mullet, Stanford!"

In Dimension 46'\ (w/ Jerk Ford):

Like his canon counterpart, Jerk Ford chooses to not give his half of the story, using the excuse that he’s still in shock and needs a minute for his fight/flight/freeze to die down so he can think clearly. He doesn’t know what dimension he’s in, he just knows there’s been some kind of mix up in the cosmos.

When the alternate version of his brother and their grand-niblings, and a giant hairless gopher who may or may not also be his nephew, tell him that some government agents are after them, the first thing Jerk Ford asks for is his memory gun.

The grand-niblings look baffled (because they knew it was Old Man McGucket who created the memory gun), but give up the memory gun, and Stan looks suspicious because he had no idea that ‘his brother’ had built a memory gun. Just like in canon, Jerk Ford memory blasts Agents Powers and Trigger, but once they’re gone he also casually drops the following tidbit to Stan;

Jerk Ford: I also erased the concept of how to take a left-hand turn while I was at it.

Stan: …Why?

Jerk Ford: To make their drive back to D.C more… entertaining. *snerk*

Stan wonders what being gone for thirty years really did to his brother, and Dipper is still fanboying over ‘The Author’ but Jerk Ford makes a rude remark about Dipper “hovering over him like a fly on s[beep]”. He does, at least, promptly clean up his language when Stan tells him to watch what he says to the kids. Jerk Ford notes that this version of Stan is more aggressive than his own, which is typical of the variants he’s seen over the years.

Stan tells him about the Mystery Shack - like most versions of himself, Jerk Ford isn’t a fan, but he isn’t going to be in Stan’s face about it. Who knows what the circumstances of this were?

Jerk Ford: Was teaching not paying you enough?

Stan: Teaching… what?

Jerk Ford:

Jerk Ford: Nevermind what I said *steals a novelty shirt in front of everybody*

The layout of the cabin is different, but it did remind him a lot of home. When he and Stan had moved to Gravity Falls, the way the interior was set up and decorated always seemed to be a clash of the brothers interests. Stan’s insistence on making the place seem more like home, and Ford’s projects and research always haphazardly breaking free of the confines of his lab, bedroom, and study. This version of Stan seemed to find a happy middle, because a lot of weird and cryptic objects were there, but integrated and functional to what a home was supposed to be.

But it still wasn’t his home. This wasn’t his family.

While Stan was distracted with trying to get the kids to go to bed in spite of the excitement earlier, and Soos was making a rambling phone call to someone who sounded tired on the other end, Jerk Ford snuck off to snoop. He didn’t used to be so covert when it came to messing with other peoples stuff, but after that incident with a non-portaled Ford who nearly killed him, he was more careful with that these days. You never know when you’ll find skeletons that should have been laid to rest, and inconsolable crypt keepers who’d sooner bury you instead.

It looks like someone had beaten him to the punch of looking through Stan’s more hidden things - a lot of stuff that confirmed what Stan had already covered when talking about his and his brothers backstory. Fake id’s and news articles. Nothing that really stood too much to help Jerk Ford figure out who’s dimension this was. This Stan’s backstory was almost beat-by-beat similar to the one he heard from most of his variants, and versions of Stan that ended up being the one on the other side of the portal instead. That lack of a gimmick in this dimension didn’t make things easier.

Although… every aspect of this dimension seemed to be found, in at least some small way, in all of the other dimensions. Could it be…?

The prime dimension? The alpha timeline that many versions of Stanford Pines had been speculating about but never could confirm? He needed more data before he could-.

Well, this Stanley isn’t his brother, but if he’s going to identify this dimension and hopefully return to his own, he’d need to explain his situation to him first.

To be continued...?

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Four: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, one-sided relationship, sexual content, pervy behavior, male masturbation, panty kink, sex daydreams [eventual warning for smut; be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Anakin is doing his very best, he just loves you and wants you to be comfy around him. Just let him worm his way into your heart babe [diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread. I’m illiterate so apologies in advance MDNI 18+

Diary Entry: July 8th

Mr. Nelson’s funeral was today, it really was a beautiful ceremony as I look back on it. Even more so when my inner self smears the background enough to bring you to the front of the mental image.

You’d spoken to the man a handful of times, but I didn’t expect you to come. When I saw you accept the invite to the event on Facebook I thought surely it was a mistake. That was until you messaged Luke and asked him to accompany you, funerals make you nervous, but feeling obligated to do something and avoiding it makes you more nervous.

So your moral support was happy to attend and fight off dear old Alan’s corpse should he rise from the casket and set his sights on you.

And I though I had irrational fears, geez babydoll, how old were you when you watched Night of The Living Dead for the first time? If I had to guess it was too young. It’s alright though I get it, you know what movie traumatized me? The Mummy. Heebied my fucking Jeebies so bad I avoided the beach on family vacations.

You’re telling me there’s not a sarcophagus under all that sand? There’s at least one under there and you can’t convince me otherwise.

Solid ground for me only, please and thank you.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

I had a thought that I initially considered to be a sweet reminder of my dear friend Alan. His obituary was in the newspaper and I happened to swipe one from the guest book table at the viewing as well. Have you ever scrapbooked before? I bet you’ve at least tried it.

Well I thought it would be nice to make him a page in my journal. A little celebration of life for the man who gave me an opportunity to grow and nurture my love for you.

Then I realized mid-glue stick on the newspaper clipping that the idea was something that a clinically insane person would do.

I’m not that guy. That guy’s not me.

But the glue was already on there and it felt wrong to toss Alan’s wrinkly old face into the trash so I pasted him into my journal anyway.

Crazy people don’t know that they’re crazy. I’m well aware that little idea was less than tasteful, just felt like I should mention that.

Date:

July 28th

Anakin Skywalker hadn’t been this happy since… ever. The previous record being his discovery of you, was now toppled into second place and overshadowed by ‘Move In Day’.

He could hardly contain himself. It was a dopamine high that he would ride out until he’d drained every last drop.

The movers lugged in box after box, furniture and books, until finally they dropped off the last load and thanked Anakin for the business. He eagerly shook their hand and shoved them out. He had preparations to make.

He set up his Tv, screen mirroring the live feed of the apartment building entrance to the big screen so that he could easily keep an eye out for you while he unpacked his kitchen.

He’d planned your ‘meet-cute’ meticulously, looking to your bookshelf and streaming services to gather intel on your ideal scenario. You were an odd bird, but he liked that about you. It’s part of your charm, it’s part of the challenge. You’re not as predictable in your tastes and interests as others can be.

Anakin formulated the interaction step by step, frame by frame in the storyboard of his imagination until he had the perfect scene. His box office hit that he’d replay over and over again until the next time he stood face to face with you.

It took quite some time and a load of practice. Discarded dialogue, awkward movements that made him feel stiff and less than human when he practiced them in the mirror. Endless options of clothes, shoes, and hair.

Should he get a new piercing? He wanted to. So he did, he knew you’d like it.

It’d match the one he already had on the opposite nostril. It made him feel more complete to add something so permanent to his body, he wished he could do something similar with you. He wanted you to be permanent, so maybe it’s his subconscious’s way of telling him that this was going in the right direction.

He was on the right path. His journey of life alone was coming to a close and a new trail would reveal itself. No more rocky, unsteady tread. No more sharp turns and blind spots, no more impossible inclines.

Scraped knees and bloodied hands would be distant memories. Maybe even distant enough that he could toss them into The Pit.

He would have no need for anger or sorrow anymore.

How could he feel anything but the warm embrace of love as he strolled down the flowered path ahead with you?

Who knew that you could position one box in 83 different ways and hate every single one of them? Anakin was so thankful there weren’t any actual surveillance cameras in the apartment building. It’d be really difficult to explain why he was in the hallway for an hour with his hands on his hips, scooting a box of books a centimeter or two at a time. Turning it sideways and then making sure the book on top was perfectly positioned and would effectively fall to the ground to catch your attention.

He checked his watch nonstop, stared at his Tv screen, willing you to just hurry the fuck up before he vomited from anxiety. He’d waited months for this. If he fucked it up now he’d… well he’d probably keel over on the spot.

Which would promptly traumatize you and not even his ghost would be able to peacefully haunt you. It’s hard to peacefully haunt someone if they watched you die, or at least Anakin assumed it would be difficult. He wasn’t willing to test that theory though.

So, he puffed up his chest and walked back into his apartment and rehearsed the upcoming conversation a few more times. He needed, desperately needed to ensure his facial expressions conveyed what he wanted.

Soft, trustworthy, dependable, safe, caring.

He practiced softening his eyes, knowing sometimes he stared alittle too hard. He worked on his facial fidget; chewing on the inside of his cheek was a quick tell of his nervousness. He didn’t want to be perceived as nervous, he wanted to be confident and sure of himself so that you would be confident in your soon to blossom affection for him.

His eyebrows, that’s a hard one, but he’d meticulously watched bar goers trying to flirt. The successful ones he learned, sometimes use their eyebrows in place of questions or words. A difficult concept, but one he studied until he mastered it.

Now, the other facial expressions and mannerisms… he gathered that information from your watch lists on your streaming services. For the visible examples at least, but your books were just as helpful in describing how he should approach you, speak to you, and simply exist near you.

He hadn’t realized these things were this important until now. Standing and posture was surprisingly very, very important to women. As well as hand movements and subtle glances and minuscule changes of expression.

You were worth the time and effort it took to learn all of it. He’d read and research and practice until he couldn’t stand to look at himself in the mirror any longer. He was determined to make sure you were happy with the results.

He was startled by a loud ping, someone had entered to building and holy shit it was you.

Anakin shook out his hands frantically, remembering the breathing techniques he’d learned as a child, he grounded himself quickly.

It’s okay.

‘She’s gonna love you. She’ll warm up to you quickly, you know everything you need to know about her to make her comfortable and loved.’

‘There’s no way she won’t fall head over heels.’

He smoothed out his band-tee and ran his hands through his hair quickly and headed to his door that was propped open slightly. A few boxes sat in the hall, including the most important one, the one instrumental to his plan.

The apartment hallway was ridiculously tiny, which worked in his favor in this situation.

He heard you come up the stairs, counted your steps until he knew you were almost at the door, 17 and a half steps. Then he swung open the door and bent down to grab one of the boxes.

As expected, he startled you and you dropped your keys. You always wore your backpack on one shoulder, one strap. So when you quickly went to scoop up your keys, your bag swung out of place and toppled a few books from one of the boxes.

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Anakin could gloat to himself about his magnificent setup later, right now he needed to woo you with his sweet words.

“Oh, sweetheart I’m sorry.” He said softly, coming over to offer you a hand up.

“It’s okay, my bad.” You laughed, taking his hand.

He managed to keep calm and collected despite his insides boiling him alive at the willing skin contact.

“No, not at all. It’s my fault for startling you like that.” He chuckled, squeezing your upper arm and using his hand already in yours to give you a small handshake. Smooth.

“I’m Anakin.” He said with a bashful smile, dropping your hand and reveling in the lingering warmth your palm left on his.

You introduced yourself in return, gesturing to his apartment door.

“So I take it that you’re my new neighbor huh?” You said, making small talk as you crouched down to pick up the books you’d knocked over.

“No I’m just a one man moving crew.” He grinned.

“Very funny.” You laughed, standing up as you looked through the titles. “Hmm, you’ve got good taste.”

“You think so?” He asked, remembering to make his eyebrows swoop up toward the middle of his forehead to give a quizzical look.

“Oh yeah, this is one of my favorites.” You said, showing him the cover of The Silmarillion by Tolkien.

“Not many people actually read that one, I’m impressed.” He smiled.

“Impressed? Yeah well I’m jealous.” You laughed.

“What?” He chuckled, holding his hands out to take the other books from you.

“This is a really nice edition, it’s similar to mine. I recently lost it.” You sighed. “I think I must’ve left it the park or maybe it fell out of my bag or something.”

“Ah, that sucks… well, I mean I’ve read that one a few times now. It’s been well loved.” He said tipping the books in his arms toward the one you were holding. “Why don’t you keep it?”

He shrugged, acting nonchalant as though this didn’t mean the entire world to him and if you said no he’d sob about it later.

“You’re serious?” You asked in surprise, he was offering you a 50$ special edition book and you’d barely known him for a minute.

“Yeah, ‘course sweetheart.” He said with a cute, crooked smile. “Think of it as a… reverse house warming gift.” He chuckled.

“Thank you, I- this means a lot to me.” You said, grinning widely. “That’s real sweet of you Anakin. I owe you one.”

“No worries.” He chuckled, “I’m sure we’ll find a way to make it even sweetheart.” His gaze flickered quickly from your eyes to your lips, and he turned to go back into his apartment after giving you an almost-missed wink.

You stepped inside your home, and went straight to the bookshelf to put your new-to-you book where it belonged. After the fact you stood there and buffered, just staring at it.

‘There’s no way, this guy has to be too good to be true.’

But he seemed… so genuine. He didn’t ogle you, he didn’t make you feel weird or like he just felt obligated to speak to you.

He seemed to actually, really be a good guy.

Rare. Few and far of those exist in this day and age. It’s uncommon to meet someone who would do something, even as simple as giving you a used book, without expecting anything in return.

But he didn’t seem to expect anything. He didn’t seem to even expect a thank you, it was like he’d already decided he would give it to you before he even offered.

What are the odds that a hot, tattooed and pierced man moves in next door and gifts you an expensive book that just so happens to be an even better replacement for the one that you just lost? That couldn’t happen twice even if you tried to make it happen again.

What kind of second dimension did you step into? The land of dreamy men?

Diary Entry: July 28th

It’s late. But I have to write to you, it can’t wait til tomorrow.

Everything went more perfectly than I could’ve imagined. Thank you so much for being you sweet girl. It made my job of curating the scenery so much easier, you clumsy little thing. I am sorry for having to spook you though, but it worked didn’t it?

Research pays off. Always.

And of course there’s the issue of your book, I hated to see your frustration and your mad scowl when you realized it was missing from your backpack. I really did.

But I’d do it every goddamn day if I knew I’d get the same reaction out of you from giving you that new copy.

Oh god you’re… you’re beautiful. You’re so beautiful. You look angelic when you sleep but you look like competition for Aphrodite when you smile at me.

You smiled, grinned. You smiled all the way up to the corners of your bright and beautiful eyes. For me.

You even laughed for me.

It was so sweet I could taste it. The honey of your voice, I could fucking bathe in it. Just the sound of you speaking, knowing you were speaking to me. Really speaking to me.

In the flesh.

It’s intoxicating. It’s emboldening, it’s dangerous. I’ve never been more worked up in my life. I’m torn all to pieces from at two minute and 6 second conversation.

I think I’ll have to fucking recover from this like a damn hangover.

But what has me so drunk you might ask? Was it your laugh at my stupid jokes? Was it your perfect smile, your radiant glow, your soulful eyes? The softness of your skin or you willingness to let me touch you?

No baby. It’s how you said my name.

I wish I could’ve stayed longer, I wish I could’ve spoken to you more. But it’s so hard to concentrate when my dick is leaking precum down my leg at a rate that should probably be concerning.

The minute you closed that door I shoved those boxes into my apartment and locked the door. Took my elated ass straight to the couch and watched you in your living room, admiring your gift from me while I fucked my fist with a pair of your dirty panties in my mouth.

I couldn’t have your honeyed lips soothing my angry red cock just yet, but I sure as hell could imagine licking your gorgeous little cunt while I tasted you.

I tugged my balls and pumped my cock for over half an hour until I was a fucking mess for you in my new living room’s floor. The cool hardwood letting the heat from my flushed skin seep away from me as I came back down to earth.

I made myself dizzy. Didn’t give myself a break, didn’t slow down, just stroked my cock like the desperate little manwhore that I am for you. The only thing missing was you being there to watch me fall apart.

I think you’d like that wouldn’t you? Watching a man like me get on his knees and beg for you?

Diary Entry: July 29th

I’ve replayed that moment in my head for hours on end. The beginning always stays the same, but the ending… that’s been subject to many changes. It started off simple, we’d chat alittle longer, I’d ask you how your day was; you’d tell me it was ‘fine, thank you’.

Or you’d ask me why I decided to move in, why I chose this side of town, this side of town, this apartment building, across from you. That one always ended questionably and I’d rather not explore that one on paper.

My favorites however were the ones where you’d laugh at a stupid pick-up line and somehow we’d end up in your bed. The bed I’ve sat and watched you sleep in. Those were the best additions.

Now, I’ve been fortunate enough that you’ve been loyal, faithful and devoted to only me since the very beginning. So I don’t really have a clue what you’d actually be like in bed.

But god it’s so fun to imagine it.

You’ve got such pretty, soft skin. You let me mar it up with my teeth and soothe it with my tongue. You let me grip the pillowy flesh of your thighs to spread you open for me. You let me pinch and roll and pull your nipples until they were raw and begging for a break. You let me caress the sensitive slick covered folds between those beautiful pussy lips, plunge my fingers in as far as they’d go.

I took you from behind, watching your perky little ass bounce off my cock while I plowed into you. Your face smushed against the couch cushions and your body folded over the arm rest for me to fuck you like the good little girl that you are.

Against the wall with your arms around my neck while I’ve got my hands holding you spread open and in place by the crook of your knees. You promised you stay real still so that I could drill up into you like you deserved.

God damn. Do you know how good you look like that? Back arched against the wall, tits jiggling in my face with every thrust. Your legs pushed up and back to the sides of your torso, to pin you in place?

It was like a pretty pink flower had bloomed and spread its buttery smooth petals just for me.

Don’t even get me started on how good you suck cock. Have you ever been told you could be mistaken for a warm, wet Hoover? No? Didn’t think so cause that would be rude as hell, but I bet someone’s thought it before.

(Me. It’s me, I thought that.)

Fuck those soft lips. Fuck that smooth snake of a tongue. Fuck that tight, hot throat that just loves to take a beating from my dick.

Can’t wait to prove my imagination right.

Speaking of, my dick has been beat. Like actually. If one didn’t know any better they’d assume it’s on life support, but I’m a freak of nature. Cumming upwards of 16 times in the span of 40ish hours would probably put a weaker man in a hospital bed. Or maybe a psych ward.

But I am not a weak man even if my dick feels raw. I’d still fuck you if you asked.

I’d be curious to know if I’d be able to stave off cumming longer from all the abuse or if I’d be so fucking sensitive that I wouldn’t make it in half an inch.

Probably the latter.

Diary Entry: August 2nd

Being so close to you is killing me. Truly it is.

You’ve sunken your claws so deeply into my very soul and you don’t even realize it. It’s torture. To you, I’m just the new guy, nice dude who gave you a book. But to me? You’re my entire world.

I’ve been told I have the personality of a guard dog. Soft and squishy on the inside, dangerous and fierce on the outside. Which I suppose could be true, but really I think it’s for a different reason. For a human, a dog is one small but very impactful blip in your life. But for the dog? You are it’s life.

Am I comparing myself to a dog right now? Yes I am.

I’ll beg for you to throw me the scraps of your affections until you finally toss me a bone.

Bark.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

I’ve been trying my best to give you space. To plan accordingly and in advance. I have our next two interactions simmering on the back burner.

I know that if I go too hard, too fast, you’ll be overwhelmed. That’s the last thing I want. I never want to be the thing that causes you stress, I want to siphon it from you. So, in one week I will set out to help you with a few of your errands and plant a few seeds.

But until then, we have late night snacks and couch chats with Boogie.

I’ve also been doing- you guessed it- more research to do with helpful vitamins and medicines. You’ve responded so well to your SleepyTime tea and since I’ve started making sure your birth control packet is plainly visible in the countertop basket directly beneath that cabinet, you’ve been taking it so well.

I’m so proud of you sweetheart, that’s my girl, look at you taking care of yourself. You’ve done so well in fact, that it’s in my personal opinion that you have earned a very special reward.

Anakin sat on his couch, the live feed of your living room screen mirrored to his Tv. He was watching you cook dinner, he knew you’d be making a stir fry. He’d seen it in your planner, so he’d taken the liberty of ordering himself the same, it’d be here any minute. As would your good friend Sam.

Anakin had originally burned red hot with jealousy at the thought of you inviting a man over to your apartment, that he hadn’t vetted via social media and a quick drop-in. But he was relieved to discover that Sam was just a girl from your book club.

This wasn’t one of his well thought out plans, this was decided upon this morning after you’d returned from book club. So, he was anxious to see if his hunches served him well. Sam seemed like a punctual gal, at least from what he’d seen on social media and the text messages between the two of you from weeks/months before.

Anakin had the wonderful idea to log into your cell service providers website to pull your deleted messages from their data bank. You really should have better passwords.

The thing he was most worried about was his door dasher arriving on time. It was rare that one was too far off on arrival time, but it would be his shit luck and lack of planning that could ruin this little glimpse of you.

The minutes ticked by and he was alerted to the new motion sensors he’d placed near the LED pathway lights on the paved entrance to the apartment building. He quickly switched over to the hallway feed at the front door, seeing that it was his door dasher.

Damn you Trevor. How dare you get there before Sam.

Not to worry, he’d call for the door code and Anakin wouldn’t answer the first time. It wasn’t much but it would buy him a few seconds.

Though it seemed to be that luck was on his side as it often was when it came to you. Sam was so kind, kind enough to let the delivery guy into the building. Which is technically a security concern but Trevor didn’t seem like the type of guy who’d be able to remember a 6 digit door code.

He was too busy staring at your friends ass to pay attention to the numbers she entered anyway.

The footsteps approached your door and his, Anakin waited until he heard Sam knock on your door before he opened his. Trevor stood patiently as Anakin slowly counted out his tip in cash and thankfully you were quick to let your friend inside. After the exchange was complete Anakin gave you a smile and wave.

He could’ve had a heart attack at the response you gave him.

A flirty little finger waggle and smile.

He had to remind himself to breathe and keep his expression a happy-neutral. He’d hate for you to see his blushing cheeks this early on.

“Have a good night girls.” He said as he closed his door and to his surprise you actually answered.

“You too!”

If he weren’t confident that you were a sweet and loving soul, he’d think you were trying to kill him with the siren song of your voice.

Stir fry had never tasted so fucking good.

Diary Entry: July 8th

Grocery day baby, here I come.

I love that you’re so predictable. I love that you’re so fucking cute and always try to strong arm your groceries in one trip. I love that it takes at least two good whacks to the trunk of your shitty old Nissan to properly close it.

It’s cute to watch you struggle with it, the annoyed huffs and angry scowl.

I thought you’d combust on the spot once when your paper grocery bag of flour and sugar ripped open and sent a plume of flour up on your black jeans. The parking lot was very empty and I was very glad because I’d hate for someone to have seen the cursing contest you had with yourself as you picked up your spilled items. Very unladylike you know. But it’s you so I don’t mind, I just like to hear you talk.

It’s almost time. I’ve been sitting in my car for about 10 minutes. Gotta account for the traffic on highway 76. Do you really have to shop all the way out there just because of the Whole Foods? C’mon baby they have the same shit at Kroger.

I’ve been watching your little blue dot on my phone and you’re rounding the corner so I’ll write you later doll.

I love you.

You pulled into the parking lot and sat in your car for a moment. Giving yourself the much need quiet to decompress from your work day and the grocery trip. After you’d checked your messages and scrolled for a moment you decided it was time to head inside before your frozen foods got… not so frozen.

You popped the trunk and fumbled with the faulty latch, your fingers feeling blindly under the metal lip until it finally detached and you were able to open the trunk.

You took a deep breath and scolded yourself for buying the extra few things that could’ve waited till next time. Second trips are for wimps and you weren’t one. So you loaded up your left arm bag by bag until you heard a humored puff of air and the beep of a car locking behind you.

“Need a hand sweetheart?” Anakin grinned, shoving his keys into his front pocket.

He waltzed over and took a few bags off your hands without waiting for a response. It took you aback, not because he hadn’t waited for permission, but because of the way he exuded an odd charm that made you falter.

“Anakin, really it’s alright I can get it.” You said, eyebrows furrowed together in confusion by his kind gesture.

“Mmm no, this seems like a two man mission sweet girl.” He smiled, gathering up a few the last few bags from the trunk and shutting it with one solid push.

“You really don’t have to-“

“I know I don’t have to.” He said tilting his head toward the apartment building to encourage you to walk with him. “I want to.”

“Thank you, that’s… thanks.” You smiled, a light blush creeping across your cheeks.

“Atta girl.” He chuckled, tapping in the door code and holding it open for you despite holding many more bags than you.

Something about the low tone of voice or maybe just the way he looked at you with his icey blue eyes… just sent a chill down your spine. A quick one that was gone in an instant, replaced by a warm glow in the center of your chest.

“Guess chivalry’s not dead.” You joked.

“I’m no knight.” He laughed, “but you’re sure as hell a princess.”

‘Oh that was smooth.’ You thought, trying to ignore the heat at the bottom of your stomach.

What is happening? How on earth can one man be so… everything? Kind, caring, chivalrous and gorgeous to boot.

You felt a wave of embarrassment at the squeaky giggle you let out. He had you tore up from one little comment.

True to the gentleman he seemed to be, he chose not to push it and tease you about your beet red cheeks. He just waited patiently for you as you unlocked your door.

“Do you want me to bring these in for you?” He asked, watching your movements closely.

“Oh that would be great.” You said in relief, leading him into your kitchen.

“Cute little place.” He said, looking around the kitchenette and over to the living room.

He sat down your bags on the counter and started unloading them neatly into rows.

“Oh, you-“

“Mmm mmm.” He shook his head with a smirk, “Just let me help, it’s no big deal.”

You let out a puff of air in an amused sort of amazement and pulled out your little step stool to open up the cabinets. Anakin snickered from behind you as you stepped up and started putting things away.

You shot him a glare over your shoulder and almost said something snarky until you realized he was folding your paper grocery bags in the same way that you always do.

“Huh.” You laughed. “I thought I was the only one who did that.”

“Did what?” He asked, his head cocked to the side.

“Fold the bags.” You said, turning back around to continue placing your things where they belonged.

“Oh,” he chuckled, “I dunno it’s just a habit I guess. Fits better in that stupid slot on the recycling bin this way.”

“Yeah I never really understood why they made them that way? I guess so people don’t just shove other trash in there.” You mused.

“Mmhm probably.” He agreed, stacking them neatly and gathering it in his hands. “Do you want me to take these out back for you?”

“I can do-“ You stopped yourself when Anakin raised his eyebrow and cocked his head to the side with a crooked smirk.

You sighed and gave him a downturned smile. “Yes, I would love for you to take them out back for me.”

“Good girl.” He nodded, clicking his tongue and heading for the door. “See ya princess.”

After he shut the door you let yourself breathe alittle easier, blowing out the air in a short puff through your nose. Maybe even letting a little smile cross your lips before you finished up your task.

You’d be thinking about that low rumble of his voice later. Good girl? Shit.

PART FIVE

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate @burnthecheshirewitch @exquisitcorpse @arzua10 @bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay @aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn @bunnylovesani @ausskywalker @angelsadmired @slut4starwarssmut @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie @starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @lethargic @allhailbuckybarnes-blog @shadowhuntyi @mortalheartache @fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot @chaoticantihero @vadersslut @luvvfromme @anakinsbaee @doblasftcisco @sweetcheesecakesblog @luvskywxlker @angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled @graveyard-stray @styleslytherin @chiaraanatra @jediavengers @zapernz @lunalitva @salted-snailz @queenofchaos99 @ellie-luvsfics @dazednstars141 @nico-velvet @rorysbrainrot @hopesworlld @mawhOre @lonaah @t8Izw @guiltycherries

Let me know if you wanna be added/removed

[angelyuji]

OKAY SO this one has been cooking in my noggin for a while. you’re dating ford and he lets bill possess him but bill fucking hates you and wants to destroy everything about the relationship so he makes ford do some noncon to you if ykwim 👀💦

RICYTP_O)(+*_&)*Y&T THIS IS SO HNNGGG

tw // noncon, somno, implied billford, bill cipher sucks, ford pines fluff at the beginning thoo

bill most defintely did not get the appeal about you. ford is sooo obsessed with you and he loves egging his bad behavior on, but at the same time, he didn't get why ford likes you so much.

you giggle, sitting on ford's lap, watching him journal his findings. "why write that in invisible ink? it seems pretty important."

he kisses your shoulder, "to keep important information out of the wrong hands." you hum in understanding. the two of you sit in silence, letting your hearts beat together.

"i don't get it." you had just left and bill had decided that it was the right time to question ford.

ford continued working as bill sat on his shoulder, "get what."

"them! your little," he waves his hands. "toy? plaything?"

"partner." ford interjects, annoyed. "they're my partner. i don't take kindly to anyone calling (y/n) names."

bill raises his hands in mock surrender, "fine. fine. i just don't see what you see, sixer." he shrugs.

"(y/n) is.... someone who understands me. they're patient, kind, open, and loyal to a fault." he laughs a little to himself and bill frowns, feeling a surge of jealousy. ford's voice was full of love, every word he speaks of you felt honest and true.

"whatever you say, fordsy. a warm hole is a warm hole" bill shrugs and disappears before ford can retort.

ford is gonna spend all night thinking of ways to convince bill about you and urethra🤓! he's got it!!

"would you like to meet them?" ford moves his queen, looking up to see bill's eye wide in surprise.

"you sure you want to introduce me to your "partner", my muse?" bill mocks, but ford only smiles, continuing the chess match. silence fills the room, but bill's interest in you won, "how would we do this?"

they'll decide to let bill posses ford and meet you, not tell you about bill of course. ford didn't want you to freak out and leave him and bill was happy to play along with ford's lies.

repetitive knocks wake you up from your sleep. you look over to your alarm clock, blearily reading 1:22 AM. "what the hell." you mumble, rubbing your eyes. the knocks don't stop and you're forced out of bed. you look through the peephole and see a very familiar face.

"gooooood morning, cutie!" his voice was loud, echoing through the empty street. you shush him and pull him inside.

"stanford, it's 2 in the morning. what're you doing here." you fight a yawn, trying to sound stern.

"baby, come on, is it a crime to want to see my angel?" he takes a seat at your dining table, looking around your home like it's brand new.

you raise an eyebrow at the new nicknames, "are you okay? you're acting... weird." ford grins, abnormally.

"i think you're just tired." he waves off your concern, "let me stay over, baby. we'll have some fun." his grin stretches across his face, unnaturally. he stalks towards you and you slowly back away.

"ford, i think you should go." your voice wavers as you point to the door.

"noooo, i don't think so." his arm snaps out, grabbing you by the throat. you choke, digging your nails into his hand, "this is the thing sixer was impressed by? you?!?" he laughs, loud and manic. "a weak, useless, human." he spits, anger coursing through bill's mind.

hes soooo sillyyy. you're gonna end up passing out from the lack of airrr and then his original goal was to kill you, but... i mean a warm hole is a warm hole.

you could feel yourself getting stretched, legs held above and pressed against your chest. you hear a familar voice grunting above you. "h-hurts..." you moan, eyes slowly opening. ford's wide smile comes into view.

"sixer was right, you're realll open." he grinds against you. you feel tears stream down your face. he grins, bending over and dragging his tongue up your face. he licked up your tears, giggling. "you'll never forget this face ever again."

afterwards, you're laying there unconscious and bill's like.... damn.... you're kinda fun :))) he gets ford now

[whorefordean]

mr. ghostface

wc: 1.6k

tw: language, unprotected sex, belly bulge, choking, slight degradation, slight dubcon perhaps, porn with barely any plot

a/n: this is pure filth, let me know if i missed anything!

p.s this is so ghostface!rafe coded however there is no name mentioned for gf. also @kaylablogsstuff i’m nervy

MDNI

you rolled your eyes as your phone rang for the third time. at this point, it's become a bigger burden to ignore it than to answer whoever the hell keeps disrupting your peaceful night.

you huff as you click answer and hold the phone up to your ear.

"hello?" you questioned impatiently, plopping down onto your bed.

"i'm a little offended, y/n. you write so fondly of me in this journal of yours, but you refuse to answer when i call," the distorted voice echoes throughout the receiver of your cellphone. embarrassment floods your system as you check your nightstand for your journal. shit.

"i don't know what you're talking about," you speak calmly as you try to slow your racing heart.

there's no way this is happening right now.

"so it wasn't you who wrote about how you would take ghostface's big cock like a good girl?" ghostface asked rhetorically. heat pooled low in your belly, causing you to clench your thighs together.

"tell me how much you enjoy this, princess" ghostface ordered, a teasing tone in his voice. unbeknownst to you, he was watching you struggle to gain some self control. you slowly drag your hand down your body, stopping to lightly trace random shapes against your skin once you reach your panties. you opt to put your phone on speaker and settle it beside your head.

"you look so pretty like that, princess. so desperate and needy."

you couldn't help the moan that tumbled out of your pouting lips. the tension in the silence is enough to send your hand into your panties.

"just couldn't wait, huh? such a whore that you couldn't wait any longer before rubbing your little cunt?" ghostface speaks. you shouldn’t be this turned on by the degradation you’re receiving from a killer, but everyone has their flaws. 

"you've read my journal. been wantin' you for so long, mr. ghostface," you answer honestly as you begin to tease your clit. you can hear shuffling on his end, and it's clear that he's touching himself too. his soft moans are echoing throughout your room.

"can you see me, mr. ghostface?" you ask breathlessly as you continue rubbing your slick. grunts echo through the phone, causing you to whimper in response.

"fuck. yea i can, princess," ghostface moans out before speaking again.

"i can see how wet your pretty little pussy is just from knowing i'm watching you," his voice is teasing, and you’re positive he can see the wet spot that’s forming in your panties.

"i wish you were here. i could take it," you can't stop the words from tumbling out of your lips, desperation dripping off your tongue.

"yea? would you let me use that sweet little pussy however i want? be my little plaything? gonna let me stuff you full with my cock, princess?" ghostface teases over the phone. his panting is getting louder, and you can hear how breathless he is. your fingers move faster on your clit as your moans and whimpers continue to escape.

you're too far gone to hear your front door click open. you don't hear his footsteps on the hardwood floor of your apartment. you don't even bat an eyelash as your bedroom door drifts open.

ghostface, unbeknownst to you, stalks over to your bed. he watches as your thighs shake with your approaching orgasm. he waits a moment, mesmerized by you. then, without warning, he yanks your hand out of your panties. you yelp in surprise as your eyes shoot open to see ghostface standing over you. 

“boo,” ghostface teases, causing you to jump slightly. you can’t stop yourself from scooting away from him just an inch. quickly, ghostface reaches out, wrapping his hand around your throat. he squeezes slightly before pulling you closer to him. 

“cat got your tongue, princess?” he speaks. your mouth is dry now, and you can feel your heart thumping out of your chest. you remain silent as you wait for his next move. as you stare up at his mask, you can’t stop your thighs from clenching together, desperate for any kind of friction.

ghostface grabs your thighs, roughly pulling them apart. you almost whine, but just as quickly, ghostface is shoving his hand into your panties. you inhale a shaky breath as he toys with your slit, purposely avoiding where you want him most. you shouldn’t be this desperate for him, but, god, you need him. 

ghostface withdraws his hand and releases your throat. you watch with bated breaths as he pulls his mask up just enough to expose his mouth. then, he slowly drags his other hand up to his lips, sucking your juices off each of his fingers. your jaw drops open as he smirks at you before pulling the mask back down. 

he leans in close and whispers into your ear. 

“you taste so fucking sweet, princess. maybe next time i’ll tie you up and spend all night in between those pretty thighs. see how much you can take until you’re begging me to stop,” his voice is hoarse, deeper now as he pulls away. 

you lift your hips as his hands slip into the sides of your panties, pulling them down your legs. the wet fabric is tossed precariously across the room. as you attempt to hide yourself from ghostface, he tuts and pulls your thighs open yet again. you blush as he stares down at your weeping cunt. 

“i’m gonna ruin you,” he mumbles as he tilts his head slightly. you bite your lip and drop your head onto the pillow. your actions cause him to snap up to look at you. 

“you’d like that. wouldn’t you?” the question is rhetorical, but you nod anyway. though you can’t see it, ghostface is smirking under his mask. 

you gasp as he pulls your shirt off, leaving you completely exposed to him. without hesitating, his heavy hands are on your hips, flipping you onto your stomach. he lifts your hips up until you feel his clothed bulge resting again your bare core. you gasp and grind your hips, trying to relieve the tension settling inside you. 

a quick slap is delivered to your plump ass. you’re too focused on the pain coursing through your backside to notice that ghostface has pulled his jeans down just enough to expose his cock.  

he grabs his thick shaft, giving himself a few pumps before teasing his head through your wetness. without warning, he pushes into you, not bothering to let you adjust. 

you moan breathlessly, dropping your entire torso onto the mattress. he’s stretching you out so nicely, though you can’t ignore the pain seeping in from how deep he’s reaching. 

“come on. you can take it,” ghostface spoke condescendingly. his heavy cock pounded into you from behind, knocking the breath out of your lungs.

"it's too much," you moaned out. tears were rushing down your flushed cheeks. your body thrust forward with every shift of his hips.

the pleasure was too much, but you wanted this. god, did you want this.

"but you talked such a big game on the phone. you're such a desperate whore that you practically begged me to fuck you," ghostface patronized. his hand gripped your throat, pulling you up until your back hit his chest. ghostface stopped his movements, burying himself deep in you. his hand traveled down the expanse of your body, stopping at your tits momentarily. he toyed with your nipples, smirking under his mask as you mewled.

"so pathetic," he murmured, before continuing to lower his hand down your body. his large hand stopped on your belly, reveling at the feeling. he looked over your shoulder into the mirror across from your bed.

"oh, fuck," he moaned at the sight, moving his hips slowly. there in the mirror, he watched as your stomach bulged with his cock each time he thrust into you. you whimpered as you watched him. placing your hand over his, you held his palm firmly against your belly.

“see, you’re taking me so well, princess,” ghostface smirked as he whispered into your ear. the hiss he lets out as you clench around his cock has you throwing your head back in a moan.

“feels so good,” you babble. with trembling thighs, you come around his cock, mumbling nonsense as you do. 

“i know it does, princess,” he mutters into your neck, breathing you in. 

your brain goes numb when you feel his hips stutter to a stop inside you. you bask in the feeling of him emptying himself into you. you whine when ghostface pulls out, leaving his hot cum to drip down your thighs. 

he situates you onto the bed, laying you on your back. with an ache in your belly, your eyes flutter closed as you try to catch your breath. the bed dips as ghostface stands. peeking your eyes open just slightly, you watch as he tucks himself back into his jeans. silently, he leaves the room, and you can’t deny the embarrassment you feel. of course this is how it would end. he’d fuck you then leave. 

you roll over and try to settle, but your ears perk up at the sound of running water. the water stops just as quickly as it started, and heavy footsteps can be heard throughout your apartment. a few moments later, ghostface walks back into your room with a wet washcloth in hand. 

he can see the relief on your face and the tension leaving your body as he positions himself in front of you to clean you up. he feels you relax into his touch. 

“thought you left,” you mumble quietly. his masked face tilts as he glances up at you. 

“had to make sure my little plaything got taken care of, yea?” he answers.

[drewdoa]

─────────⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺─────────

── .✦ # 𝒚𝒐𝒖 • part 1 ; viktor

── .✦ a/n: hey!! so i decided to mix two of my favorite shows together!!! it’s definitely different from what i would usually write but i think it’s such a cool mix and the thought of viktor being obsessive is like rotting in my brain..i hope you enjoy this and tell me if i should make more!!

── .✦ extra info: no gender mention, obsessive behavior, harmless stalking, might be a bit inaccurate to their canon characters

{ inspiration taken from the show “you” on netflix ! }

viktor has always been the type to stay kept to himself. he doesn’t bother anyone or talk to many people besides jayce and you. rotting away in his lab at almost every opportunity presented.

..almost. he’s got a small hobby he tends to every so often, he doesn’t like to talk about it much since it’s a way for him to “de stress”. you’ve noticed lately he carries a what looks like a sketchbook that’s filled to the pages ends with things he’s been doing. pictures, and stickers and pen scribbled all inside, what else could he be doing? scrapbooking you thought!

one lazy morning though, around the crack of dawn basically, viktor was caught up in that book. going through page after page, admiring his past works. they all look similar. about the same..person?

you watch him carefully from a distance, in the hallway where his lab leads. what is so important about that book? why can’t jayce know about it? why can’t i know about it? are you hiding something crazy from me? do you feel like id judge you? all of these things race through your mind, though you reassure yourself with the fact it could just be something personal and you must respect that.

what are you so infatuated with. finally it’s about time you try and mention it, to test the waters if you will.

⌗˳⳿⤏ “viktor?” your mouth spits out, a bit of a distance between you two.

he’s caught just a bit off guard by your voice, he then relaxes just enough to give you a proper response.

“yes?” his body then turns to you, his chair fitting his body perfectly as he comfortably leans his arm on the armrest.

“i just wanted to check on you since you’ve been here for..a little while again” you take a pause before glancing at his prized possession before back at his face.

“i’ve been caught up with studies and working, im sorry i didn’t warn you beforehand. but you should be here too you know.”

“i’ve noticed you’re a fan of journalism too hm? a little expected though” you say as you step a little closer to him.

“…it’s been something i do on the side, i didn’t think you knew about journaling. you do most of that with jayce and his phone with a drink in your hand”

you freeze at his slick ass comment. as much as you wanna flick him in the forehead for it, you can’t, cause he’s right. you and jayce have been drinking quite a lot lately instead of focusing on the projects in which viktor has done most of your work.

“if i had the right to beat your ass i would’ve.” you reply while folding your arms. you take another glance at viktor’s book and there’s a familiar face in there. it looks hand drawn, a little accurate to..

“if you don’t mind, i’ve got work to finish, some that you should be helping with but there’s no point now..come back later. and bring my “partner”, i’ve got a lot of work for him.” his tall lanky figure rises from the chair as he grabs his cane, walking to the doorway and taking you with him.

“maybe one night i could show you what ive been doing..i think you’d enjoy the cage.”

✮⋆˙ hello!! i hope you liked this post :)) i was planning on making this like my own little series!! do let me know if you’d like a second part or any other requests (my asks are open <3) :D -drew

[destiny-fics]

11:45 pm-Wang Yixiang (Nicholas)

Pairing: Wang Yixiang (Nicholas) x Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut, sneaking out, car sex, making out, riding, dirty talk, dom!Nicholas, sub!reader, Euijoo makes an appearance, swearing, reader gets called baby and princess and also a brat, Nicho is sometimes referred to as Yixiang, he also gets called the reader's boytoy.

A/N: Hello everyone! Long time no see and here I am to drop this little Nicho fic and to say that I'll officially be adding &team to my list of groups I write for! I'll only be writing for K, Fuma, Nicho, Euijoo, Yuma and Jo so feel free to request things you'd like to see for those members! Hope y'all enjoy this.

18+ Only. Minors DNI

Tap...tap...tap...

"What the ever-loving fuck is that?"

You looked up from your journal at your roommate's expletive, raising your eyebrow at her as she stalked over to your window. Your dorm was on one of the upper floors of your building and usually, at this time of night during the middle of the week, it was quiet, peaceful even. The perfect environment for the two of you to study in, your roommate pouring over her physics notes while you scribbled in your journal.

"Ugh," your friend groaned as she looked out the window, montioning for you to come over to the window. "It's your boy toy."

You furrowed your brows, closing your journal before making your way over to the window. "My boytoy?"

"Nicholas," she rolled her eyes, opening the window. "Hey boy toy, will you knock it off? Some people are trying to study here!"

"Don't call him that," you whisper-yelled, pushing her away from the window "she didn't mean that! What...what are you doing here though?"

Nicholas just laughed, shaking his head and tucking his hands in your pockets. "It's okay princess. I was just wondering if you wanted to come for a drive?"

"Nicho it's past curfew, I'll get...we'll get in trouble."

"Ah, who's gonna know?"

"I'll know," your roommate singsonged, looking back out the window and down at Nicholas. "What makes you think I'll let you take my darling y/n away tonight?"

Nicholas merely looked amused and motioned to his car "Euijoo's in the car. I could offer you a trade for a few hours?"

You roommate hummed softly "You and y/n go for a drive and I get Euijoo to myself for a few hours?"

"That's what I said isn't it?"

"You got yourself a deal sir."

Nicholas grinned, bowing his head at your roommate before motioning to Euijoo to get out of the car "Pleasure doing business with you madam."

You rolled your eyes at their antics before pulling on your shoes and a jacket. "You're crazy Nicho, you know that?"

"Crazy about you, you mean." He ignored the disgusted face Euijoo pulled at him as he walked past, ready to climb through your window as soon as you'd climbed out. "Now jump."

"Jump?? I was joking before but you really are crazy."

"Ah c'mon I'll catch you," he smirked holding his arms out for you to jump into. "Don't you trust me baby?"

You sighed, looking over the window ledge and down at your boyfriend before swinging your leg over the edge and jumping into Nicholas' arms. He grinned as he caught you and set you down gently, kissing your cheek. "See? Told you I'd catch you."

You rolled your eyes, patting his chest gently "Yeah, yeah. You were right."

Nicholas grinned, pulling you in closely by the waist and kissing you deeply "God it's so sexy when you say that."

"Ah," you nodded your head in recognition, briefly breaking eye contact with Nicholas to wave goodbye to your roomate as she pulled Euijoo into your room, hands already tugging at his hair and lips already attached. "So we're going on a drive then? Not just a drive."

"Baby," Nicho looked mock offended as he began to walk you to his car. "I am a gentleman, I would never suggest we partake in something so vulgar."

You snorted "Good thing I'm not a gentleman, so I'll suggest it. Wanna take me to a lookout and let me ride you in the driver's seat?"

Nicholas grinned, openeing the passanger side door for you before sliding into the driver's seat.

"I'm so glad you asked."

~

"Fuck princess...that's it, mark me up. Make sure everyone knows I'm yours."

You hummed softly against Nicholas' neck, nipping and sucking at the soft skin to leave another bruise. A garden of similar marks had begun to bloom across your boyfriend’s neck and he was incredibly pleased with your work. You pulled away to admire the marks, pressing your fingers into the bruises. Nicholas moaned, looking up at you through hooded eyelids and kicking his head back so you could see the marks better.

"They look pretty baby?"

"Yeah..." You nodded "so pretty."

"That's cause my pretty girl did them." He smiled, sitting up and pressing his lips to yours in a heated kiss. "My pretty fucking girl marked me up, made me hers."

"All mine Nicho, you're all mine." You whispered against his lips, hands desperately making their way down to his belt to undo the buckle. He lifted his hips up to let you slide his pants and boxers down, just enough for his cock to spring out, the tip hard and leaking. You practically drooled at the sight, and ran your thumb over his leaking slit. Nicholas sighed, watching you with his lip between his teeth.

"You just gonna tease princess? Or you actually going to follow through with that promise to ride me?"

"Don't be a brat Wang Yixiang, or I won't follow through at all."

Nicholas raised an eyebrow, pulling your panties to the side and positioning you over his cock, just teasing your entrance with his tip. "We're using government names now y/n y/l/n?"

"Depends, are you going to continue to be a brat?"

Nicholas chuckled, shaking his head "I am not the brat baby, you are. But that's okay, I have a foolproof plan to change that."

"And what exactly would that be...?" You sunk yourself onto his cock with a moan, eyelids fluttering shut.

Nicholas snapped his hips up into yours fast and hard, pushing little desperate and whiny moans out of your mouth. "Oh it's easy really, I'll just fuck all that brattiness out of you."

"Is that a-fuck! Promise?"

"Oh princess, it's a fucking guarantee."

And Nicholas wasn't the kind of person to back out of one of his promises. He set a rough, nearly animalistic pace, fucking you hard and fast, cock hitting your sweet spot with every thrust. You could barely speak, you could barely think, only able to feel Nicholas, only able to think about him and how his cock felt inside of you.

"Nicho...Nicho fuck, please please please."

"What do you want princess?"

"Want you to make me cum...please."

Nicholas immediately slowed his pace down as the words left your mouth, chuckling as you whined. "You think you deserve to cum? Think you've earned it?"

"Yes Nicho...Yixiang, please."

"Okay then my pretty princess, you can cum, cum all over my cock for me."

Nicholas' permission was the last thing you needed for the knot of pleasure within your stomach to come lose, burying your head into your boyfriend's neck as you creamed on his cock. Nicholas pushed himself deep inside you as he came, letting out his own long groan to accompany you whines and moans of his name.

You both panted quietly as you came down from your highs, Nicholas' car hot and sticky with sweat and the smell of sex.

"Juju's gonna kill me for fucking in the car," he whispered making you laugh softly.

"If he does then I'll kill him back for fucking in my room."

Nicholas laughed, kissing your cheek softly "I love you, you know that right?"

"You've mentioned it once or twice," you giggled, pecking his lips. "I love you too."

~

Thump

"Ow..."

"Nicho I swear if you don't shut the fuck up."

You whisper yelled, helping Nicholas back up off the floor of your room and leading him to your bed.

"Sorry sorry, but who just leaves a chair there?"

You deadpanned him, falling onto the covers of your bed and dragging your boyfriend to lay next to you, quickly checking to see if your roommate and Euijoo were still asleep in her bed. "Under the desk? Where they usually are? Oh I don't know everyone?"

"Oh ha ha you're so funny."

"I'm glad you agree," you giggled kissing his nose. The two of you settled into a comfortable silence, letting the sound of the other's breathing lull you to sleep. It was peaceful, quiet and almost too relaxing, until the soft voice of Euijoo rang through the room.

"Yo Nicho, you okay? You totally ate shit tripping over that chair."

Masterlist

[heartfullofleeches]

ITS MY BIRTHDAY TODAY🎉🎉🎉🎉 I was wondering how my favorites would wish me a happy birthday, Tobi, the cafe, host, static, the supernatural harem and the fast food, if that’s too many you can shorten it but I really wanted to have some of my favorite characters from my favorite writer congratulate me on my special day! BTW I’m the one who sent the Prince leash ask, I don’t know if you got it but I accidentally did it anonymously

(The Cafe was a bit too much for me to get this out to you the same day, but I hope you like this regardless! On the bright side, I did get your Prince ask and am working on that too. Happy birthday, chief!)

Tobi:

Has never had a birthday himself, but they know what they are and their significance to humans other regular people. Tobi's the kind of guy to surprise you with presents year round, but as your birthday rolls around they keep items you've had your eye on in their back pocket to gift you on your big day.

Its too embarrassing for them to give you in person, but Tobi creates a collage of all their favorite pictures of you to put up somewhere in your bedroom. Tobi loves baking and cooking so a homemade breakfast, dinner, and your treat of choice would be on the top of their list of surprises for you.

Host:

"Looks like it's a special someone's birthday- Those only come around once a year, you know? If - that's how you want it, anyway."

That time already? Time is a tricky thing for Host to wrap his head around. He could've sworn the last one was just yesterday. It hardly matters. Everyday could be your birthday- Contenstants come and go, but you'll always be his star.

That would, of course, wear the novelty of it all thin. Host is more than happy saving the pinnacle of his gratitude for you as his co-host for that one day. That day's contestants better be too if they want to leave with all the parts they came with intact.

Which is his funny way of saying they won't get any cake.

Static:

"Happy birthday to you.... Happy birthday to you...."

Hunts for every variety of birthday song they can find to serenade you with the second daylight bleeds into your room. Static's disappears predating your birthday can swiftly be explained by the trinkets they bring you, majority centered around the shows and movies you've watched together it knows you adore most.

They'd attempt to rope you into another movie night with you in full control of the remote since it's their favorite way to bond with you - and it's optimal cuddle time.

Supernatural Harem:

"Baron, must you make everything a challenge?"

"Piss off! I left enough room for you two to put your names on the cake.... Maddox more importantly than you, but still."

"We appreciate the consideration, but... Where are we supposed to write "happy birthday"?"

Nothing like waking up on your big day to your Demon husband roommate swearing today will be the day he slaughters your Angel husband roommate. Luckily, your Grim Reaper spouse roommate has the expertise to ķeep you soothed until things cool over long enough for all of them to prepare breakfast for you.

Baron stalks you around to shower you with mandatory birthday kisses- only to get pouty when he's done before noon and continues well past the age you're turning. You'll be older than all three of them by the time he's through.

Maddox, as usual, fills their journal with sketches of you to unveil at the end of the day. Their art skills is the only thing they're proud of in themselves and monetary possessions don't hit quite the mark they're trying to reach when it comes to presents they like to give. If you're a gamer/a fan of stuffed animals they'll pick up a couple so they can use them when you're away and they miss you.

The first birthday you celebrate with Alasdair has to be one to remember. He's watched you from the sidelines for years and now it's finally his chance to do what he's always wanted. It may be a tad selfish of him in hindsight, but he'll pull you aside the day before or after to enjoy a relaxing evening with just the two of you.

Fast Food:

"Code C! I repeat, Coqde C - The clown is loose!"

Birthday? Well you can't expect to have a celebration without the designated party planner, can you? As everyone closes up the restaurant early to commemorate your big day, Twister hoovers over the crew to insure everything goes swimming. The Janitor follows behind it with their trusty spray bottle to keep the clown in check - its the only excuse they have not to give their present to you by hand because they're too embarrassed.

The bathroom Succubus would insist on you opening her gifts to you first - if a certain goat wouldn't pout over it all day as a result. The ballpit hands shower you with all the shiny items lost in their depths. The Storyteller reads you the tale of someone who's birthday happens to fall on the same day - where nothing bad occurs and the universe smiles kindly in their favor.

The ice cream machine ghost whispers in the ears of customers they'd better wish you a happy birthday or be prepared to have dairy filled nightmares

[i-want-men-i-cant-have]

.. ❝ When You Were Alone,

I Was There Too ❞ ..

HOW THE VAGASTROM BOYS WOULD ACT IF THEY WERE YANDERES. ft. alan mido, leo kurosagi, & sho haizono

wc : 1.2k

warnings : sfw, gender neutral reader

request : Helloo! I saw that your requests are open and when i saw that you wrote for Frostheim i could not resist (not when there's barely any content for tdb that i could get my grubby hands on, let alone yandere). Anyway! I was thinking how would yan! Vagastrom act around with the reader? Take your time and hopefully this isn't uncomfortable :3 

ALAN is the most reasonable, violence-wise. sure, he has an ogre-like quality, but whoever said he wanted to hurt you? and, of course, whoever said he couldn’t hurt the people around you?

he might be one of the few yanderes who understand that you like your friends, and that makes you happy. if you’re happy, he’s happy—simple as that. however, if he starts doubting those “friendly” touches on your arm or the overly obnoxious laughter, he can just as easily take that privilege away.

even with all his ideas, the way he cares for you is oddly innocent. it’s sort of like those kids who take revenge in dodgeball or tag after their crush gets out—except it extends outside of the game…

mostly, it’s just roughing people up so they don’t talk bad about you. in reality, those girls in your class were just pointing out the sauce on your shirt that vaguely looked like something funny.

still, there’s no stopping him, so don’t waste your breath trying to explain your side of the story. he knows what he heard and saw. you don’t need to step in with excuses; you’re too kind for that.

he always has your “happiness” in mind, no matter what he does. this is all for your sake.

he’d definitely have a photo of you in his wallet or, when he goes on missions. maybe even a tiny locket with your picture inside. he’d get teased relentlessly for it, but he’d never stop wearing it.

maybe i’m stretching, but i see him as the type to have a secret shrine to you hidden in his room. it wouldn’t be anything big or extravagant, just something mellow—a lock of your hair here, a framed candid photo there, and a few candles sprinkled in. it gives him motivation, knowing that you’ll be there (in his heart) when he gets hurt because you’ll be there to (poorly) patch him up.

he’d be holding back drool if you bandaged his hands after a mission. you’d just assume his hands were twitching from exhaustion—or some medical term you’re not familiar with—when in reality, he’s trying not to pounce on you and show everyone who you belong to. we have to respect his self-control.

LEO the freak he is. we all saw what this man did with the takeru case—god knows what he’s capable of if he puts his mind to it.

he’s more of a traditional yandere than the other two: stalking, jealousy, manipulation—the works. and he wouldn’t even make it seem like a big deal. somehow, he’d make you so paranoid that you’d turn on everyone else except him, all while acting like it’s just another average afternoon.

he’d have the mindset of a love-sick high school girl crushing on a guy in the hallway who just broke up with her friend—so technically, she can’t like him.

he’d be burning holes into the back of your head, keeping a journal full of manifestations where you run to him and confess your love.

he curses every single person who talks to you or befriends you. he’s the only one worthy of you. why can’t you see that? (probably because he acts like you’re the devil incarnate.)

he’d blackmail some scary-faced sweetheart into chasing you home every day, not in a b-list horror game way, with losing stamina and blood-curdling screams, but in a psychological way. you’d feel someone watching your every move, sensing the breath down your neck as you walked home.

your stalker probably just thinks you’re available—or so leo tells you. “if this little stalker of yours knew you had a boyfriend, they’d back off. especially some scary man from vagastorm.”

alan? aww, that’s so precious leo could just die and take you with him! post it for the world to see!

clearly, he’s talking about the person who has dirt on every single per—no he’s not talking about tohma.

and you can’t forget they need to be attractive. good looking yet mysterious, aloof… are you schizophrenic? what janitor are you talking about?

him. the person is him.

if you have such low expectations for others, maybe you should leave yourself in his care. after all, he’s there for you: to protect you, to listen, to scare off anyone—all for you.

if only you realized he’s the one you should truly be afraid of. a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

soon, you start closing yourself off from your friends, all thanks to leo. but it’s really your fault, isn’t it? he keeps telling you not to trust them. “there’s no one stalking you,” they’d say. “you’re weird for making that up—for what? attention?” they’d accuse. so why bother trusting them when they wouldn’t believe you in the first place?

next thing you know, your friends are avoiding you. and all you have left is leo.

if only you realized they weren’t avoiding you—they were avoiding him. or maybe it was those marks on the back of your neck that you hadn’t noticed yet.

SHO would be the most reasonable of the three. it’s not like he wants to kidnap you and make you taste-test all his dishes while using his thumb to wipe stray sauce off your lips. oh, yeah, no. definitely not… he just doesn’t want to break the bond you already share. besides, it’d be a pain to explain why the honor roll student is locked in his room surrounded by twenty stacks of sandwiches.

there are other ways to get his point across. for example, he might “accidentally” brush against someone looking at you too much—with his motorcycle. who cares if bonnie has to be revoked for a month or two? the point will be made, and it’ll spread across campus.

sho respects both you and the art of cooking too much to consider drugging you. at least at first. but after a few months (weeks at most), he’s finally cracking, giving you the worst case of food poisoning in darkwick’s history (which, in reality, is just a slight tummy ache and a fever).

he’ll take care of you, curse the cafeteria attendant, and insist it wasn’t his cooking. don’t be rude—it’s obviously the school lunches! you know how stingy schools can be.

he’d use your illness as a chance to get closer to you: making soup, hand-feeding you, placing a cold towel on your neck, and rubbing your back as you throw up a third of your body weight. he might even clean your room (and pocket a few things, but who’s counting?).

can’t you see it? he has it all—he’s caring, can take care of you, and even cleans! come and get it while it’s hot, or before he’s off the market!

not strictly yandere, but i can see sho scaring you on a motorcycle ride. he wouldn’t actually scare you, but rev the engine, and go slightly over the speed limit, just enough to have you clinging to him for dear life. he’d memorize your scent and, the second he gets back, he’s inhaling the spot your body touched on his jacket.

[hrrtshape]

coriolanus snow in my dr : a case study (???)

౨ৎ  i know coryo now!!!!! not good for everyone else. like, biblically adjacent. i have stared into the abyss of his collarbones and nearly blacked out from sheer spiritual overload during lunch ! i had to physically restrain myself, clawed at my own wrist, bit my tongue, to stop myself from stamping thirteen hickeys across his aristocratic little throat like a feral creature marking its territory when i first him.

he is so real. more than real. beyond suzanne collins' ink, beyond the tragic orchestration of his future atrocities in other...universes. here, in the very exclusive, very avant-garde dimensional hotspot that is my better cr dr, he is not just coriolanus snow....future ceo heir. he is coryo. my coryo!!!!! and sometimes he slouches ⋆

　　　　　　　　　　  ⊹　 ︶︶　 ୨୧　 ︶︶　 ⊹

❛ backstory : his parents are old money, the kind that moves in silence because it has nothing to prove. no desperate new-rich ostentation, just power so entrenched in the social fabric that it seeps into his every gesture, his every breath. his mother, a socialite with a steel-trap memory and a tongue sharper than a guillotine, collects secrets like they’re baccarat crystal. his father...okay. actually. terrifying. the kind of man who bets entire fortunes like they’re poker chips, who calculates risk with a gambler’s intuition and a warlord’s ruthlessness. tigris wasn’t lying when she said his father held hate in his eyes. coryo learned young that money isn’t the prize. it’s the battlefield. also, his grandma’am owns an unfathomably chic flower boutique, the kind of place where orchids cost more than your rent.

　　　unconventional investigative journalism ! . . . ୨୧

◞ signature scent : bdk parfums’ gris charnel, the kind of fragrance that clings to cashmere like a well-kept secret. ink stains on silk shirts, warm cardamom, a whisper of bergamot before it settles into sandalwood and smoked tea. expensive, but not ostentatious. it lingers, it haunts. smells like the kind of man who leaves an open book on the nightstand, spine cracked just so.

◞ phone model (important!!!) : iphone purist, but it’s always the second-to-latest model. not out of financial constraint (please), but because he simply does not care about such pedestrian flexes. midnight black iphone 15, no case, the edges kissed by a few strategic scratches from careless, absentminded tosses onto marble countertops.

◞ handwriting : so precise it could be a forged renaissance manuscript. slanted, deliberate, almost ecclesiastical in its elegance. when rushed, it collapses into a series of esoteric glyphs that only he and his exhausted professors can decipher.

◞ academic (from a person who's definitely not biased) : always at the top, but never in a way that suggests effort. knowledge just seeps into his bones. writes entire essays in his head and transcribes them last minute. annotations in the margins oscillate between philosophical musings and sardonic commentary. highlighters are strictly monochrome, because colour-coding is for the weak.

◞ basketball quirks : moves like he’s solving an equation in real time. effortless shots, a preternatural understanding of angles and velocity. runs a hand through his hair before free throws, because of course he does. plays like it’s not even a game, but an elegant and calculated dismantling of his opponent.

◞ food (yes i stalked him...basically) : not a sugar fiend, but catches himself reaching for dark chocolate when he thinks no one’s watching. black coffee as a baseline, but if you hand him something absurdly sweet, he’ll wrinkle his nose and then consume it with the begrudging efficiency of a man fulfilling a contract. this is known. this is proven.

◞ musical taste : classical, but only the kind that sounds like a man going through it in a candlelit room. bach (the kind with an organ), tchaikovsky (the kind with a death wish). 2000s indie sleaze. interpol, the strokes, arctic monkeys. jazz. hans zimmer when he’s feeling grandiose. kanye, travis scott, 90s rap when he needs to remind himself he is, in fact, a menace.

◞ can solve a rubik’s cube in under two minutes but insists it’s a useless skill.

◞ always has a pen on him. you’ve stolen at least three.

◞ stands at a slight angle when talking, like he’s perpetually calculating the optimal way to exist in space.

◞ (before my shift so this is from a memory i got there) gave me his jacket in an offhanded way, like it was nothing. later, i caught him watching me wear it with something unreadable in his expression.

◞ knows how to play poker, and you will not beat him at it.

◞ never brags, but when he does something impressive, he looks at me like he’s waiting for me to say something. i just raise an eyebrow.

◞ drives a black aston martin vantage (i know this...because he drove me once. one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gear shift, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror like he’s tracking something unseen. moan.)

◞ taps his pen against his lips when he’s thinking.

◞ looks obscenely good in knitwear. wool coats that make him look like a damn film protagonist.

◞ he doesn’t do hobbies; he does obsessions. he also does chess, poker, fencing. anything that requires strategy and the slow, tantalising art of victory. he's also in model UN. obviously.

◞ wears glasses sometimes. looks as hot as it sounds.

　　　physicality (moan!!!!) . . . ୨୧

◞ 6'3. an affront to reason, a structural hazard, a measurement that demands architectural consideration. the kind of height that turns even the tallest into something delicate by comparison.

◞ athletic, but not in an 'i woke up like this' way. this is intentional. muscle sculpted through discipline, through an almost monastic devotion to control. broad shoulders that make sweaters drape like they were sketched onto him. strong forearms, obviously. his back... indecently, needlessly, artfully carved.

◞ his hands...sigh...perpetually in his pockets, except when he leans in to murmur something just a fraction too close, fully aware of the effect. arms crossed when listening, jaw tightening when irritated (devastatingly attractive, i wanted to immortalise it).

◞ shoe size !!!!! likely 45 (us 12), possibly 46 (us 13). yes, i looked. for science.

◞ rolls up his sleeves with surgical precision, just enough to expose forearms that should require a warning label, yet feigns indifference.

◞ his hands are a problem. strong, elegant, unjust. fingers slightly calloused from basketball, fencing, lifting. YES, I TOOK NOTES.

　　　red flags that i'm way too prepared for . . . ୨୧

◞ pathological overachiever syndrome, but the toxic kind. the “i will seethe in silence if i score a 99 instead of 100” kind. the “i wrote a whole new essay because i found my first one merely excellent instead of transcendent” kind. the “if you beat me at chess i will lose sleep over it for weeks but mask it under a detached smirk” kind.

◞ emotional repression so severe it could be classified as a gothic affliction. you will never know what he’s actually thinking unless you study him like a victorian poet studies phrenology. his version of vulnerability is allowing you to witness a fraction of his turmoil through the clench of his jaw or the way he lingers just a little too long before walking away.

◞ never says “i’m sorry,” just reappears with a grand gesture like he’s starring in a cinematic reconciliation arc. (he is.) will quote poetry or latin at you instead of apologising. will scoff at grand romantic ideals but embodies one against his will.

◞ ego so finely constructed it could be displayed in the louvre. never gaudy, never loud, just a quiet, unshakable belief in his own superiority. not in a way that begs for external validation. no, he already knows. he doesn’t need you to tell him he’s exceptional, but oh, he does like it when you try to prove him wrong.

◞ has a god complex (freak matches freak), but a sexy one. not the loud, abrasive kind. no, his is an old-money god complex, the kind that sits in the corner of a candlelit room, flipping the pages of some antique tome, exuding the silent certainty that the world will always orbit him, whether you realise it or not.

◞ control issues so severe they could be submitted for psychological study. must be the one driving, must be the one deciding, must be the one orchestrating. lets you have your way when it amuses him, but only then. will convince you it was your choice all along.

　　　i , the cold war . . . ୨୧

lily-rose called it first: the cold war. and she was right. me, french-russian (yes, i’ve returned from shifting with improved french!!!) with an arsenal of toothy grins. him, american, arrogance lacquered over his intellect like a second skin. we’re both rich, both brilliant, both locked in a knowing, unbearable awareness of each other. the air crackles.

but it’s not just rivalry. never was. never could be.

when me and coryo stand too close, no one can tell if we’re about to argue or kiss. our verbal sparring sounds suspiciously like flirtation... because it is. because beneath the ego clashes and competitive theatrics, we are, devastatingly, undeniably, more allies than adversaries. we always sit together at lunch, insisting it’s because all our other friends do. but let’s be serious.

before all this, though, we were just kids. 10, maybe 9, maybe 8, whatever. he lived near me. i annoyed him on principle. it was schroeder and lucy, textbook. then i moved to paris. when i came back at 14, things weren’t the same. something brittle in the air. something unsaid.

　　　ii , the dynamic . . . ୨୧

smart vs. smart : we’re both intelligent. that’s a given. but he’s the type of smart that’s ice-cold, precise, a grandmaster orchestrating a hundred simultaneous chess games. and....... my intelligence is chaos and charm, the kind people underestimate right up until i win. he respects it. i weaponise it. it’s mathematics versus poetry. it’s yang and yin. it’s whatever we are, and it works. so well !!!!

arrogance vs. playfulness : he’s arrogance incarnate, but god, he can back it up. me? i’m unserious. i’m babyfaced. i laugh my way through everything, until suddenly i don’t. and then i win. which unravels him. which makes him question the foundations of reality. which is hilarious. (and no, he doesn’t let me win. i think.)

proximity that means too much : we always sit next to each other. always. in every class we share. no one believes it’s incidental. when we argue, it’s close-range, like neither of us is willing to cede even a millimetre of ground.

　　　iii , things that happened during my shift . . . ୨୧

◞ day one, i gave him a nosebleed. a necessary act of narrative tension.

◞ walking to class, his arm slung over my shoulder. unsanctioned contact. if i were a weaker woman, i would have perished on the spot.

◞ watched him play basketball. died immediately.

◞ accidental hand touch. suffered cardiac arrest.

◞ someone told us to get a room. we ignored it. violently.

　　　iv , what everyone sees vs. what's actually happening . . . ୨୧

what they see : two rivals, locked in constant combat, neither willing to surrender, neither willing to blink.

what’s actually happening : two idiots thinking about each other too much. best friends pretending not to be. two inevitable something-or-others, blind to the fact that they are careening towards each other like a greek tragedy.

ok goodbye i'm going back to my better cr now or else i'll die

[tinfoil-jones]

How did the mayor elections go in the Jerk Ford universe? Cause Stanley would have no reason to run for mayor, and even if he did, the twins wouldn't have to help him

Some of the Stanchurian Candidate was handled Here.

The reason Stanley was running for Mayor was at the behest of the younger Mystery Twins, because Mabel and Dipper knew that Gideon was gunning for the position via his dad, and there was no way they'd let the town be under Gideon's control.

Gideon has even more disdain against the whole Pines family due to Stan confiscating his amulet, Dipper beating him up, and what Jerk Ford did to his family.

Stan may still be well-liked by the community, but some of the townsfolk have recently soured their opinion of him because even if they don't know how he did it, he must be the reason Jerk Ford is back because no one else would ever even think about trying to bring him back.

@aroace-get-out-of-my-face suggested way back in the OG post that part of Stan's canpaign would be "I will make sure my brother goes into town less."

While Stan does agree to run for mayor, he refuses to make that a part of his campaign.  So the kids have to be creative.

In one of the Journals, Jerk Ford had written about an invention called "The Free Will Tie", and how it "protected the wearer against brainwashing, possession, suggestions, and political cartoons". Dipper had gotten better at deciphering Ford's trolling and deduced that it must do the opposite and mind control the wearer instead.

They ask Jerk Ford for the tie and he vehemently refuses, saying something along the lines of his tech didn't need grubby little fingers messing with it. So they wait for him to fall asleep in the living room (Jerk Ford didn't sleep in the basment or his old bedroom, because "he didn't like sleeping anywhere that didn't have multiple exits") and once he's asleep they sneak into his lab and steal the mind control tie.

Things go pretty similarly to how it does in canon, with Gideon controlling his father via possession spell, the only difference is he's doing this from a safe distance away in the woods and not from jail, since he didn't go to jail in this.

Things go awry as they did in canon when the dynamite is set off on the monunent with the twins on it- Stan initially tries to save them like he did in canon, except this time he's unable to because Soos pushes him to the ground and beats him with a shovel because the sparks had set him on fire.

So the twins do fall from the manuments nose, with the ropes untying them from the chairs some point before the fall. Without her grappling hook, Mabel can only cling onto Dipper as they descend to their untimely deaths.

There's bone cracking sounds - but not from her or Dipper. Someone caught them before they could hit the ground and to their shock it was Grunkle Stan's brother.

He looks at them both quickly - checking to see if they're okay?? - before carefully setting them both down. One of his arms is at a weird angle it isn't supposed to be at, and there's a little bit of blood coming out of the corner of his mouth so he must have an internal injury, but neither of those things are what's disturbing about Jerk Ford right now.

He's completely silent. He says nothing - he's always got a rude remark or witty remark that is also rude ready. But not now. Now he's just stalking towards the stage, and every person he passes also suddenly goes quiet.

Dipper is also at a loss for words, clinging back to Mabel as she still is to him, he had seen Jerk Ford sprint out of the treeline. He'd heard from his stories that he was more of a runner, but he didn't know a man his age could run that fast. Wendy runs out of the crowd to go check on the twins.

At this point Soos had managed to take out the fire on Stan, and was helping him back up, Jerk Ford doesn't stop his stride but he does at least glance over at his brother and nephew, confirming by sight that they're both okay.

Stan's trying to say something to his brother but he's coughing too much to form words and Soos is desperately trying to keep him from making any sudden moves, he seems to be trying to break away for some reason.

Everyone's silent in the crowd as Jerk Ford stops right in front of Bud's podium.

Then in a flash he leaps right over it at Gleeful and starts beating the dog sh*t out of him. Bud doesn't stand a chance.

Take in mind, this is Bud's size in comparison to Stan in canon:

Also take in mind, Jerk Ford is scrawny compared to his canon self. And in fact, according to the AUs artist @tearosepedall, Jerk Ford is also slightly shorter than his canon counterpart.

So everyone just watches in horror as an old man with a broken arm and multiple broken ribs savagely beats a younger guy three times his size like he owes him money, and is showing no signs of slowing down, stopping, or mercy.

Wendy is compelled to cover the twins' eyes because not only is the beating that bad, but none of them knew Jerk Ford could be scary, isn't he supposed to be just some nuisance? Nuisances are supposed to be harmless! And he said he prefers elusion over fighting.

Dipper gets a cold, sinking revelation that Jerk Ford could have easily snapped him in half any of the times Dipper has hit or tried to hit him with a blunt object.

Bud gets into pretty bad shape at the assault, which doesn't stop until Gideon also runs out of the treeline crying and begging Jerk Ford to please don't kill his dad it wasn't his fault he'll leave his family alone just please stop.

Gideons bellowing causes a chain reaction of Jerk Ford halting his beat down, Stan finally breaking free from Soos' hold and running over to pull his brother off of Gleeful, and Wendy with the twins in tow also running towards the stage.

Whatever Stan did or said to Jerk Ford must have flipped a switch because as Wendy, Dipper, and Mabel are on the stage with the rest of the mystery crew, Jerk Ford is back to his normal self, because he makes a grumpy remark about how the kids "fell on him because he just happened to be standing there".

Now everyone votes for Stan because they're too scared of what Jerk Ford will do them if they don't, and Stan wins the election (also Bud Gleeful gets picked up by an ambulance), however Stan ends up turning down the position of mayor to Tyler Cutebiker, the last remaining candidate, citing that he's realized he needs to focus more on his family.

They go home and Jerk Ford takes some kind of weird medicine out of his bag and injects himself with it - he explains to Stanley that it's something that can heal bone breaks in the span of a few minutes (Broken Bone Serum), but the kids didn't hear this because as soon as he's healed, Mabel runs in with stickers, gauze, glitter glue, and ace wrap demanding to cast Jerk Ford's arm.

Jerk Ford lets her do so but he complains the whole time, which doesn't dampen her spirits in the slightest.

What does dampen her spirits however is that when Stan caught on fire it burnt off a bunch of his hair so now he has short hair and a more disturbing resemblance to his 'bad' twin (something that irks Dipper). Mabel is so sad because she can't braid Stan's hair anymore! Who else is she going to braid train with in this house? (It might not be spotted initially but in the artists design for Stan he has long hair that he pulls into a ponytail or a braid)

[roseyreveries]

Journalism

Summary: You’re a journalist chasing the Daredevil story, hell-bent on uncovering his identity.

CW: injuries, blood, angst, sort of enemies to lovers?

A/N: This was originally a Batman x reader fic I had saved in my drafts for a while, but I’m not all that into Batman anymore so I remastered it into being Daredevil x reader. Apologies if there are any discrepancies I may have missed <3

Directory <- click!

The neon buzz of Hell’s Kitchen bled into the haze of cheap whiskey and crumpled notes spread before you on the bar. The Daredevil story wasn’t just a story—it was the story, the one that could finally yank you out of the shallow waters of clickbait articles and catapult you into headlines that mattered. But Hell’s Kitchen’s devil wasn’t making it easy. He moved like smoke, left chaos like a storm, and stayed maddeningly out of reach.

And then there was Matt Murdock.

The smug, blind lawyer with his disarming charm and infuriating habit of dodging your questions. Every time you brought Daredevil up, he’d flash that crooked smile, toss out a few words that said absolutely nothing, and leave you steaming. You knew he knew more than he let on—he was practically daring you to figure it out.

And, hell, you were close.

“Rough night?”

The voice slid through the din, smooth and calculated.

Your stomach tightened before you even turned. Speak of the devil.

Matt Murdock stood there, his red-tinted glasses catching the flicker of the neon sign outside. His tie hung loose, his shirt sleeves rolled up just enough to make him look more dangerous than approachable. He didn’t wait for an invitation, just slid onto the stool next to you like he owned the damn place.

“Murdock,” you said, trying to keep your tone even. “What a surprise.”

He tilted his head, smirking in that way that made you want to smack it right off his face—or maybe wipe it off with your lips, depending on the day. Tonight, though, you weren’t in the mood.

“Surprise?” he echoed, his tone light but his words sharp. “Come on, you don’t really believe that, do you?”

You set your pen down and turned to face him fully, your pulse thrumming. “Let me guess. You just happened to wander into this exact bar, at this exact time, knowing I’d be here?”

“I don’t need to guess,” he said casually, resting his elbow on the bar. “You scribble loud enough to wake the dead. Or maybe I just have a good sense of where trouble likes to settle.”

“Trouble? That what you call me now?” you shot back, arching a brow.

“I call it like I see it—or hear it, in my case.” His smirk deepened, and there was something wolfish about it.

Your grip on the glass tightened. “You’re awfully invested in what I’m doing, Murdock. Makes me wonder why.”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “You’re chasing shadows in a city full of monsters. Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t get eaten alive.”

Your heart skipped, but you refused to let it show. “I can handle myself.”

“Maybe you can,” he said, his tone edging into something darker. “But Daredevil? He’s not the type to appreciate being stalked. He doesn’t take well to being cornered.”

There it was, the warning hidden behind his honeyed words. You met his gaze—or where you thought his gaze would be behind those glasses—and leaned closer. “Funny. You talk about him like you’ve had dinner together.”

He smiled again, slow and deliberate, as if you’d just given him exactly what he wanted. “You’d be surprised what a good listener can pick up. Something you should keep in mind, yeah?”

The air between you crackled, his words dripping with implication. You were sure now—he knew something, probably everything. But Matt Murdock wasn’t just a lawyer. He was a wall, and cracking him would take more than words.

“Well,” you said, breaking the silence and lifting your glass. “I guess I’ll just have to keep digging. Trouble’s kind of my thing.”

His smile lingered, razor-sharp. “Good luck with that, sweetheart. Just don’t dig yourself too deep. Some holes are harder to climb out of than others.”

The fire escape creaked softly under your weight as you climbed, the chill of the night air biting at your skin. You heard from a sweet old lady who lived nearby that she’d see him standing here some nights. You weren’t sure what you’d expected to find when you followed the whisper of a lead to this rooftop, but as you pulled yourself up, your breath hitched.

There he was.

Daredevil.

He sat perched on the edge of the fire escape, one knee up, his red suit blending into the shadows like he belonged to the night itself. He didn’t move as you approached, didn’t even turn his head, but somehow you knew he was aware of you. His stillness felt like an acknowledgment, like he’d been waiting.

“I didn’t think you’d actually be here,” you said softly, pulling yourself fully onto the landing.

“I knew you’d come. Heard the elderly give her statement to you the other day,” he replied, his voice low, almost detached.

You paused, shivering under his cold, steady presence. “Then you know why I’m here.”

He tilted his head slightly, and though you couldn’t see his eyes beneath the mask, you felt the weight of his attention like a physical thing. “I know everything I need to about you.”

That stopped you in your tracks. Your heart thudded painfully in your chest, but you forced yourself to steady your voice. “If you already know, then you know I need an interview. Just ten minutes of your time. That’s all I’m asking.”

He let out a quiet exhale, the kind that wasn’t quite a sigh but carried the weight of one. “No.”

You blinked, stunned at the finality of his tone. “What? You didn’t even think about it!”

“There’s nothing to think about,” he said, standing now, his movements fluid and effortless. He stepped closer, his boots landing softly on the metal grating. “You’re chasing a story you don’t fully understand, putting yourself in danger you’re not prepared for.”

You squared your shoulders, your hands tightening into fists at your sides. “I can handle myself. I’ve been doing this for a long time, and I know what I’m risking.”

His jaw tightened, but his tone remained even. “You think you know. But you don’t. And you won’t—because I’m not giving you an interview.”

Your frustration boiled over, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “Why not? You talk like you’re on some crusade to help people, but you won’t let them know who you really are. You hide in the shadows and leave everyone guessing while people like me try to tell the truth!”

His head turned slightly, the mask catching the faint glint of the city lights. “The truth?” he repeated, his voice soft but cutting. “The truth doesn’t change what I do. It doesn’t make people safer. All it does is make them targets.”

You faltered, the conviction in his tone slicing through your determination. He wasn’t just cold—he was certain, and that certainty rattled you.

“I…” you began, but the words died in your throat.

He turned back toward the edge of the fire escape, his posture rigid. “If you want to take a picture when I leave, go ahead. That’s all I’ll give you.”

Your heart sank at the finality in his voice. “That’s it? A picture? No words, no explanation?”

“No,” he said simply, the word dropping like a stone between you. “Because anything I say, anything I give you, will only pull you deeper into something you’re not ready for.”

Despite his coldness, there was something in his tone—a faint thread of concern that softened the blow just enough to sting.

“Why do you care?” you asked, your voice breaking slightly.

He paused for a moment, the silence stretching unbearably before he finally spoke. “Because people who get too close to me usually end up hurt.”

With that, he stepped onto the railing, his balance effortless, and turned back to you one last time. “Take your picture, if you want. But stay out of this. For your sake.”

And then he was gone, disappearing into the night like a ghost, leaving you alone with your unanswered questions and a hollow ache in your chest.

The next few weeks turned into a twisted game, a dance you hadn’t signed up for but couldn’t seem to stop. Every time you got close to something—anything—Matt was there, slipping into your path with maddening precision. It was almost as if he wanted to frustrate you, to keep you chasing your tail.

One afternoon, as you stepped out of the courthouse with your notebook in hand, he appeared out of nowhere. His cane tapped lightly against the pavement, but the smirk on his face told you this wasn’t some random coincidence.

“Let me guess,” he drawled, falling into step beside you. “You’re here to dig up dirt on Daredevil’s last fight? Hoping for a juicy quote, maybe a headline?”

You stopped dead in your tracks, glaring at him. “Do you have a tracker on me or something?”

He chuckled, annoyingly unbothered. “You’re predictable,” he said with a shrug. “Same courthouse, same sources. You’re practically leaving breadcrumbs.”

“Funny,” you shot back, shoving your notebook into your bag. “You sound a lot like someone trying to cover his tracks. What are you doing here, Murdock? Hoping to throw me off again?”

“Throw you off?” His tone was playful, but there was an edge beneath it. “Why would I do that? I’m just here to offer my services. You need an interview, right? I’ve got some time.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Unless you’re Daredevil, you’re not the interview I need.”

His smile faltered. Just a fraction of a second, but you caught it. The mask he wore—figurative, for now—slipped, and in its place was something raw, unguarded. It was gone as quickly as it came, but it was enough to send your heart skittering.

“Careful,” he said quietly, his voice dipping low. “Throwing accusations like that could get you into trouble.”

“Is that a threat?” you challenged, stepping closer. You weren’t about to back down, not now, not when the tension between you felt like it was about to snap.

“Just an observation,” he replied, the corners of his mouth twitching into another maddening smile. “You’re obsessed, you know that? This whole thing—chasing Daredevil—it’s consuming you.”

You scoffed, though his words landed harder than you wanted to admit. “I’m doing my job. If that makes you uncomfortable, maybe you’re the one who should be asking questions.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might snap back. Instead, he leaned in closer, his voice soft but heavy with meaning. “Maybe you should ask yourself why you’re so desperate to figure him out.”

The proximity was unbearable—too close, too charged. His words hit like a punch to the gut, leaving you reeling. You wanted to push him away, to tell him he was wrong, but something in the way he looked at you—or didn’t look at you—kept you rooted to the spot.

“Why don’t you tell me?” you said, your voice quieter now, the fight in you mingling with something else entirely.

His lips quirked into a faint smirk, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m not the one chasing ghosts.”

With that, he stepped back, his cane tapping the pavement as he turned to leave. You stared after him, your chest tight with a mix of fury, confusion, and something you didn’t want to name.

This wasn’t just a game anymore. It was war. And you weren’t about to lose.

The turning point came late one night, the kind of night where the city felt alive and malevolent, every shadow a threat.

You’d been following a lead, tailing a low-level thug rumored to have ties to Wilson Fisk. The alley stank of rot and desperation, but you stayed hidden, your camera ready to catch anything that might blow the Daredevil story wide open. And then all hell broke loose.

The thug had barely turned the corner when he was intercepted, the dark shape of Daredevil descending like a predator. The fight erupted fast and brutal—fists cracking against bone, bodies slamming into dumpsters. You stayed frozen, heart pounding, snapping photos as quietly as you could.

But chaos doesn’t care about quiet.

A thrown blade missed its mark, spinning wildly before burying itself in your shoulder. Pain exploded through you, a raw and burning shock that stole the breath from your lungs. You stumbled forward, your cry piercing the fray.

The fight stopped.

In an instant, Daredevil was on you, his presence like a force of nature—overwhelming and commanding. He caught you before you collapsed, his hands firm and steady despite the violence still radiating off him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded, his voice a rough growl that sent a chill through you.

Your vision blurred as you tried to focus on his face—or at least the mask that hid it. “Doing my job,” you bit out, clutching at the hilt of the blade. Pain ripped through you, and your knees buckled.

“Your job?” His voice was laced with anger, though it wasn’t clear if it was aimed at you or himself. “Your job is going to get you killed.”

“Yeah, well,” you gasped, teeth clenched against the agony, “newsflash—dying’s not in the budget this month.”

His jaw tightened beneath the mask. For a moment, he just looked at you, his head tilting slightly like he was listening to something you couldn’t hear. Then he cursed under his breath. “Can you walk?”

“I think so,” you said, but your legs betrayed you as soon as you tried.

Without another word, he lifted you into his arms like you weighed nothing. You swore, weakly pounding your fist against his chest. “I’m fine! I can—”

“Shut up,” he interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. “You’re bleeding all over the place. Stop being stubborn.”

The world spun as he carried you, moving through the labyrinth of Hell’s Kitchen with a confidence that felt inhuman. The smell of incense hit you before you realized where he’d taken you: an abandoned church, its walls cracked with age and its air heavy with dust and decay.

He laid you down gently on a makeshift cot, his movements careful but unceremonious. Without a word, he pulled out a first aid kit and went to work, cutting away the fabric around your wound with swift precision.

The silence was oppressive, broken only by the sound of his gloves peeling off and the sharp hiss you let out when the antiseptic hit your skin.

“You’re not going to scare me off,” you said finally, your voice shaky but defiant.

He paused, his hands hovering over your bandage, before letting out a low, humorless chuckle. “I’d be disappointed if you were that easy to scare.”

He finished wrapping your shoulder, his touch firm but not unkind. Then he leaned back, his masked face unreadable as he looked at you. “You shouldn’t have been there.”

“And you shouldn’t be running around in red tights picking fights with mob bosses,” you shot back, exhaustion dulling the sharp edge of your tone. “But here we are.”

For the first time, his head tilted toward you in something almost like amusement. “Stubborn doesn’t even begin to cover it, does it?”

“Guess not,” you muttered, leaning back against the cot. Your eyelids felt heavy, but you refused to look away from him. “So, what now? You keep playing knight in shining armor, or are you finally going to tell me what the hell’s really going on in this city?”

He stood, his broad shoulders casting long shadows in the flickering light of the church. “You want answers?” he said, his voice low and deliberate. “Then stop putting yourself in the crossfire.”

He moved toward the door, pausing only to glance back at you. “Next time, I might not be there to save you.”

You lay there for a moment, watching Daredevil move toward the door, his silhouette framed by the soft, dying light of the church. Every nerve in your body screamed at you to let it go, to take the bandage and your bruised pride and call it a night. But you weren’t wired that way, and if you were going to end up in his world tonight, you sure as hell weren’t leaving without answers.

“You can’t keep doing this,” you called after him, your voice sharper than you intended.

He stopped mid-step, his head tilting slightly as if weighing whether to engage. After a moment, he turned back toward you, his arms crossing over his chest. “Doing what?”

“Showing up out of nowhere, pulling people out of danger, and then disappearing without giving me anything to work with,” you snapped. You propped yourself up on your good arm, glaring at him. “I’m not just some idiot with a camera, you know. I’ve been digging into this for months—years, even. I know there’s more to all of this than just a masked guy punching bad guys in alleys.”

His lips pressed into a thin line beneath the mask, and when he finally spoke, his voice was maddeningly calm. “What exactly do you want to know?”

You blinked, momentarily stunned. “For starters? Why Fisk’s men are running scared of you. What you’re trying to accomplish out there. Hell, who you even are!”

He stepped closer, his boots clicking softly against the stone floor. “Who I am doesn’t matter,” he said evenly. “What matters is that people like Fisk don’t get to run this city unchecked.”

“That’s not an answer,” you shot back, frustration bubbling under your skin. “That’s a slogan. Try again.”

He tilted his head, his lips quirking in the faintest hint of a smirk. “What I do isn’t exactly something you put on a résumé, you know. It’s not about me—it’s about stopping people who think they’re untouchable.”

You groaned, flopping back onto the cot. “God, you’re impossible.”

“I’ve been told that,” he said dryly, leaning down slightly.

You looked up, opening your mouth to fire off another retort, but the words caught in your throat when you realized just how close he was. He’d stepped into your space, his presence overwhelming, and you could feel the heat radiating from him even through his suit. His gloved hand rested on the edge of the cot, his other hovering near your bandaged shoulder as if he were still checking on you.

Your breath hitched, the charged air between you crackling with something that wasn’t just frustration anymore. His head tilted slightly, his red-tinted lenses trained on you—or at least giving the impression that they were.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice softer now, barely above a whisper.

“Making sure you’re not going to pass out,” he replied, his voice lower, rougher.

“I’m fine,” you said, though the waver in your tone betrayed you.

“Doesn’t look like it,” he murmured, his lips quirking again.

You swallowed hard, your pulse pounding in your ears. “You’re not helping, you know.”

“Not trying to,” he admitted, his voice dropping even lower, almost teasing.

The tension between you was unbearable now, thick and suffocating. Every part of you was hyper-aware of how close he was, the way his broad shoulders seemed to block out everything else in the room, the subtle flex of his jaw beneath the mask.

“This whole vague, mysterious act of yours?” you said, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and something else. “It’s not going to work on me.”

“Is that so?” he asked, his tone unreadable.

You held his gaze—or at least where you thought his gaze would be. “Yeah. I’m not scared of you.”

He leaned in slightly, close enough that you could feel his breath against your cheek. “You should be.”

Your breath caught, your heart hammering against your ribs. You didn’t move, didn’t look away, even though every nerve in your body screamed at you to.

The church was eerily quiet, the faint scent of old incense lingering in the air as Daredevil knelt beside you. The makeshift cot beneath you creaked softly as you shifted, wincing at the sharp, hot pain radiating from your shoulder.

“Stay still,” he said, his voice low but firm. His gloved hands worked quickly to gather what he needed—a bottle of antiseptic, gauze, scissors. The sound of his movements echoed faintly in the vast, empty space.

“Easy for you to say,” you muttered, biting back a hiss as the adrenaline began to wear off. “You’re not the one with a knife sticking out of your shoulder.”

He glanced at you—or at least turned his head slightly in your direction, the red lenses of his mask catching the faint glow of candlelight. “It’s out now,” he said flatly, his tone a little softer. “But it’s going to hurt worse before it gets better.”

You rolled your eyes, your lips quirking despite yourself. “Great bedside manner, really. You ever consider a career change?”

“Funny,” he replied dryly, reaching for the bottle of antiseptic. “Hold still. This is going to sting.”

You braced yourself, clenching your fists against the scratchy fabric of the cot as he poured the liquid onto a clean piece of gauze. When he pressed it to the wound, you couldn’t stop the sharp gasp that escaped your lips.

His hand immediately came to rest on your good shoulder, grounding you. “Breathe,” he murmured, his tone gentler now. “I’ve got you.”

The warmth of his touch, even through the glove, sent a shiver down your spine. You focused on his voice, letting it pull you back from the edge of the pain.

“You’ve done this before,” you said after a moment, your voice shaky but laced with curiosity.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and rough. “More times than I’d like.”

“Lucky me,” you muttered, your eyes darting to his face. Even under the mask, his presence was overwhelming—calm, steady, but with an undercurrent of something darker, something electric.

“Lucky,” he repeated, almost like he was testing the word. He tilted his head slightly as he worked, the faintest hint of amusement tugging at his lips. “Most people wouldn’t call it that.”

“Well,” you said, biting back a grimace as he applied pressure to the wound, “I’m not most people.”

His hands stilled for just a moment, his head tilting again as if he were studying you—or listening to something only he could hear. “No,” he said quietly. “You’re not.”

The words hung in the air, heavier than they should have been. You swallowed hard, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was, how the heat of his body seemed to seep into yours. His fingers brushed your skin as he reached for the bandage, and it was impossible to ignore the way your pulse quickened.

“Is this part of the whole ‘devil-may-care’ act?” you asked, your voice a little too breathless.

He smirked, the curve of his lips just visible beneath the mask. “You tell me. Does it feel like an act?”

The question sent a rush of heat through you, and you hated how much he could rattle you with so little. “I think you enjoy this,” you said, your tone sharper than you intended. “The mystery, the danger. Keeping people guessing.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, his voice dropping lower. His fingers lingered on your shoulder as he smoothed the bandage into place, and the light touch made your stomach twist. “But you’re not like the others. You don’t scare easy. You said it yourself.”

You scoffed, though the sound was shaky. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Take it however you want,” he said, leaning back slightly to look at you.

Your eyes locked with his—or where you thought his eyes would be—and the air between you grew thick, charged with something you couldn’t name. His hand was still on your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your skin in a way that felt far too intimate for the circumstances.

“You don’t make this easy,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m not trying to,” he replied, and for the first time, there was something raw in his voice, something vulnerable beneath the cold, calculated edge.

The silence stretched, the weight of it pressing down on you both. You couldn’t look away, couldn’t bring yourself to break the moment.

His fingers lingered for just a second longer before he pulled away, standing with the smooth, effortless grace that always seemed to remind you how different he was.

“You’ll be fine,” he said, his tone shifting back to something cooler, more composed. “Just… stay out of trouble for a while.”

You raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “Right. Because you’re so good at that yourself.”

He hesitated, his head tilting slightly as if he wanted to say something else. But instead, he turned, his cape shifting as he moved toward the shadows.

“Get some rest,” he said over his shoulder, his voice softer now. “You’ll need it.”

And then he was gone, leaving you alone in the dim light, your heart pounding and your thoughts spinning in a way that had nothing to do with the wound in your shoulder.

After that night, something shifted. The line between Matt and Daredevil blurred in ways you didn’t expect, leaving you teetering on an edge you weren’t sure you wanted to cross. Matt had grown softer—not in the dismissive, charming way he used to handle you, but in a way that made him more frustrating. He deflected your questions as always, but there was something protective in his tone, something that suggested he was more invested than he’d ever admit.

And Daredevil? He was everywhere now. Sometimes just watching, sometimes stepping in when danger got too close, but always lingering just long enough to leave you questioning everything.

It was that same infuriating pattern that brought you to Matt’s apartment one stormy night, your resolve hardened by weeks of half-truths and unspoken tension. You weren’t leaving until you got the answers you’d fought so hard to piece together.

When Matt opened the door, his expression flickered with surprise before settling into something guarded. He stepped aside to let you in, his jaw tight as he shut the door behind you.

“You’re here late,” he said, his voice low.

“I figured it out,” you said, no preamble, no hesitation. The words spilled out like a challenge, filling the small space between you. “You’re Daredevil.”

The air seemed to still. Matt froze, his shoulders stiffening, his lips pressing into a thin line. He didn’t deny it immediately, and that told you everything you needed to know.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said finally, his voice a fraction too calm.

You stepped closer, your heart pounding, a heady mix of pride and adrenaline thrumming in your veins. “Don’t I?” you shot back, your voice sharp but steady. “You’ve been stonewalling me since day one. You always know where I am, what I’m doing. And Daredevil? He’s too… you. The way he moves, the way he talks. You’re the most religious man I know and Daredevil took me to a church for gods sake. It all fits.”

His jaw clenched, the muscle ticking as he turned his head slightly, as if trying to decide whether to keep arguing. “Stop,” he said quietly, his tone firm but strained. “If you’re right—and I’m not saying you are—then you’re in more danger than you realize.”

You let out a sharp laugh, the sound almost bitter. “Danger? You think that scares me? I don’t care about the danger, Matt. I care about the truth. I care about you.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and charged. For a moment, something flickered across his face—guilt, fear, frustration. He exhaled slowly, stepping closer, the space between you evaporating.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

“Maybe not,” you whispered, lifting your chin defiantly. “But I’m asking anyway. Because if this is you, Matt… I can’t finish the story..”

His hand came up almost hesitantly, brushing against your cheek. The touch was electric, sending a shiver down your spine. His thumb lingered near your jaw, his head dipping slightly as if he couldn’t decide whether to move closer or pull away.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” he asked, his voice a low rasp.

“Probably the same thing you’re doing to me,” you said, your voice trembling but steady enough to meet his intensity.

And then the tension snapped.

The kiss was inevitable, a collision of frustration, need, and something deeper that neither of you could put into words. His lips crashed against yours with a desperation that made your head spin, his hand sliding to the back of your neck to pull you closer. You gripped his shirt, pulling him down to you as if the heat of his body could ground you in the chaos.

It was messy, frantic—his lips trailing fire down your jaw, your hands fisting in his shirt as the world narrowed to just the two of you.

When he pulled back, his breathing was ragged, his forehead resting against yours. His hand lingered on your cheek, but his expression was torn, the war inside him written all over his face.

“This doesn’t change anything,” he said, his voice rough, almost pained.

You swallowed hard, your heart still pounding in your chest. “No,” you agreed, your voice quiet but steady. “But it’s a start.”

His thumb brushed against your cheek one last time before he stepped back, the distance between you suddenly unbearable. And as you stood there, your breath catching in your throat, you realized just how deep you were in.

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@cakesandtom

[chickenlizard13]

Let Me See

Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x Reader (gender neutral)

Word Count: 4742

Warnings: Fluff, Mature 18+ (get outta here you kids)

Description: I’m really just doing whatever I want at this point. Can be read as a sequel to All You’ve Done, but can also be read as a standalone. Prequel to Stay Right Here.

Holding the box in your lap, you bounce your knees impatiently, awaiting Ominis’s return. You sat on the couch, fearing he’d take the gift as an insult, rather than the assistance it was meant to be. 

Grabbing your journal from the side table, you read the incantation again, and again, and again, knowing it by heart but still afraid you’d make a mistake. It was getting late, a heavy rainstorm obscuring the front gate of the property, making you all the more anxious. Ominis was always punctual, if not early, so it concerned you that he still hadn’t walked through the front door. 

Taking a few calming breaths, you reminded yourself that Ominis was incredibly capable, more so than you at times, so it wouldn’t do to sit around worrying. 

Standing up, you gingerly place the box on the couch, heading into the kitchen to make tea. Ominis would certainly appreciate a hot cup after the cold storm. You’d just put the pot on the flames, when two freezing hands appeared on your hips. Yelping, you turn around to an absolutely soaked Ominis, grinning down at you mischievously.

“Hello, darling.”  

“Ominis! I don’t understand how you keep doing this. Why is it, I can level an entire poacher camp alone, but I never hear you sneaking up behind me?” His grin widened as he took a step towards you, the puddle forming at his feet growing larger.

“It’s not my fault you keep letting your guard down. Perhaps you’ve become rusty?” 

Scoffing, a drop from his wet hair lands directly on your forehead, startling you. “My love, go change. Those clothes can’t be comfortable.” 

You try to move out of his grasp, but find yourself being tugged back, your hands landing on soaked biceps. 

“I’m actually quite comfortable right here.”

Water continues to drip on you from his hair as you squirm, laughing in his arms, his smile becoming more maniacal the longer you struggle. “Ominis! Release me you scoundrel, you’re soaked! Go dry off!” 

Instead, he hauls your body right up against him, shoving his face into the crook of your neck. You again squeal at him to let go, but he refuses to budge. 

Finally he raises his face, kissing you sweetly on the lips, before pulling away slightly. You gaze up at him in annoyance, grimacing. “I’m wet.”

He chuckles playfully, humming as he kisses you again and whispers against your lips. “You will be.” 

Blushing, you smack him on the arm and he steals one last kiss before releasing you to change, laughing the whole way up the stairs. 

You look down at yourself, now also soaked, and shake your head, a small amused smile gracing your lips. Grabbing your wand, you dry yourself off and clean up the water Ominis had tracked into the kitchen. 

The house had once belonged to Professor Fig, and was passed to you upon his death. It sat isolated on a high cliff, overlooking the ocean. Wildflowers bloomed in the yard, their stalks shaking wildly as Ominis’s ever growing cat colony chased each other through the grass. 

You’d moved in immediately after seventh year, not having another place to go, and not wanting to return to the muggle world. Ominis had returned to the Gaunt estate at first, but showed up at your doorstep in hysterics late one night, cursing his family name and the marriage they’d tried to force on him. You’d ushered him through the door, and he never walked back out. 

It’d been several years since then, and every day you were grateful to have him. At times, you had to stop and steady yourself, awed by the love he bestowed on you constantly. You thought it a crime that his family attempted to rob him of his gentle soul, and you swore to pay them back tenfold if they ever tried again. 

The tea pot whistled loudly, drawing you out of your thoughts. Grabbing two cups, you bring the tea out to the living room, startling slightly when you see Ominis standing by the couch, back to you. 

He’d changed into dry comfortable clothes, turning around when he heard you enter. In one hand he held the box you’d set on the couch, in the other, he held the contents of said box. 

“Darling, this was on the sofa. Is it yours?” You set the tea down on a table and walk over to him.

“It’s yours actually.” 

He quirks an eyebrow at you. “A scarf? I have plenty of scarves my love, something you remind me of constantly.” 

Rolling your eyes, you worm your way under his arm, hugging his side,  arms wrapping around his waist. “It’s not just any scarf, you silly man.” 

He makes a curious sound in the back of his throat as he leans his head on top of yours. “Care to enlighten me?” 

Back at Hogwarts, Natty informed you of a certain charm taught at Uagadou. The spell allowed the caster to see through the eyes of a familiar. You’d immediately thought about Ominis, that maybe he’d be interested in trying it out, but Natty said that she wasn’t sure if it’d work on someone who was already blind. Thus, began the long journey of trial and error, often forcing Sebastian to play guinea pig with a blindfold. 

Once you were sure you’d perfected the charm for your purposes, you’d gotten to work on the familiar part. Natty was very specific, stating that the caster and familiar had to have a deep connection, and Ominis wasn’t overly fond of most beasts. He loved the cats of course, but you wouldn’t say there was one he favored in particular. 

Then the thought came to you, perhaps if you made something yourself, and then transfigured it into an animal, your connection with Ominis would translate over. Honestly, you’d have probably been able to show him sooner, if learning to knit hadn’t taken so long. 

Now though, everything was finally ready. Ominis held a cream colored scarf in his hand, both of your initials embroidered in the corner. “Why don’t you sit down, my love.” 

Ominis cocks his brow at you, but obeys, sitting down and patting the seat next to him. You sit and take his unoccupied hand in yours, lacing your fingers together.

“So, I’ve been working on something, for you, for quite a long time now, and I think it’s finally ready.” 

His thumb swept back and forth across your hand, body turned towards you attentively. “The scarf? You made it?” 

Nodding, you continue your explanation. “That’s not all. I- There’s a spell that would allow someone to use a familiar to…see.” 

You felt his fingers tighten on yours as his brows furrowed. “But I…I don’t have a familiar. How would-“

“That’s where the scarf comes in. I’m going to transfigure it.” 

Ominis breathed out, not saying anything more. You would be worried that he was cross with you, if not for the thumb still stroking lazy circles on the back of your hand. “And…you’ve been working on this? For how long?”

You pressed your lips together, unable to read his face to tell what he was feeling. “Since our seventh year.” 

Ominis sucked in a breath, his voice coming out in a whisper. “That long?” 

He clutched the scarf in his hand, holding it close to him, voice just above a whisper. “Show me.”

Squeezing his hand reassuringly, you take out your wand, and waving it over the scarf, you watch as it transfigures into a smooth white snake. You just thought he’d look so good with a snake draped over his shoulders, making such a striking image combined with his pressed jackets and manicured hair. He smirked slightly at you, raising an eyebrow in amusement. 

“A snake? Really?” 

“Shut up. Are…Are you ready?” 

His face becomes serious again, hesitating only a moment before nodding his head. You took a deep breath, praying for success. He closed his eyes, squeezing your hand as you cast the spell. You were sure to be extra careful with your pronunciation, placing your wand on the table when you finished. He waited a beat before cracking an eye open, sucking in a breath and snapping it shut again. 

You reached for him, heart sinking, fearing the worst. Before your hands could get too far, he was shoving his face into your shoulder, eyes still pinched shut. “Ominis, what’s wrong? Did it not-”

“It worked. I’m just- I just need a moment.” You could feel him take calming breaths against your skin, allowing him to stay there until he was ready. Slowly, he leaned back, eyes still shut. Blinking slowly, he opened them, taking in the carpet under his feet. He studied the patterns, following the black swirls, before looking at the fireplace. The snake’s head mirrored his movements, silently showing him what he wanted. He sat mesmerized by the fire for a moment, before looking back at the carpet, the snake moving in sync. 

“What…what color is that?”

You didn’t take your eyes off him, knowing what he was asking about. “Red.”

He mouthed the word, staring for a moment more, before turning his gaze to look at you. It looked like all the air left his body as he locked eyes with you, his breath shuddering out of him. “...oh.” 

His eyes darted around your face, a stricken look on his features, mouth slightly open. You didn’t know what he meant, feeling slightly self conscious under his attention, resisting the urge to cross your arms in front of you. You’d never felt insecure in your relationship, but suddenly you worried he didn’t like what he saw, nervous it would have a negative effect on his feelings for you. 

You unintentionally shied away from his intense scrutiny, and his hand shot out to your face, chasing you. “Please don’t run.”

He swallowed, still staring at you with wide eyes. “I’m-I’m sorry, it’s just…that’s…that’s what you look like? I- How- How did you end up with…me?” 

You looked at him bewildered, his eyes drinking in the new expression. “How did I…end up with you? Ominis I- because you’re kind, and generous, and-”

“But you just look so…I don’t- I can’t articulate how-” He stopped abruptly, releasing an irritated huff at his fumbling. 

You realized that he’d never seen himself before. He didn’t know how beautiful he was. Standing suddenly, you haul him up, dragging him to the nearest mirror. The snake slithered up his arm, resting its long body around his shoulders, head turning quickly as Ominis tried to look at every object you passed. 

You lead him to a mirror hanging in the hall, stopping in front of it. “How did you end up with me? My love, take a look at yourself.” 

He turned his attention to the mirror, eyes wide. His hand came up to touch his face. “Are these…moles? I have so many.” 

Hugging one arm, you lean your head against him, watching him inspect himself. You smile lovingly, fingers running up and down his arm lightly. 

He watched in the mirror as you watched him, the look on your face striking him in the chest. Was this how you always looked at him? Even having now seen himself, he truly couldn’t fathom why you chose him. He thought he looked so plain compared to you. You were…Merlin you were beautiful. He’d known that of course, his wand giving him a vague idea of your facial structure, but it was nothing compared to this. He could see the slightest change to your expression, the color of your skin, your eyes. It was overwhelming. 

“You have to stop doing this.” 

Scrunching your brow, you shake your head at him, not understanding.

“Every time I think I can’t possibly fall more in love with you, you give me another reason. What am I supposed to do? Nothing I can give you will ever hold a candle to what you’ve given me.” 

Shaking your head, you try to object, but Ominis continues on. “I’d endure every terrible thing in my life, all of it, all over again if it meant you’d be there waiting for me.”

You turn your face away, hiding your watery eyes. He squeezes your hand, a soft smile painting his face, his voice intimate. “Thank you, my love.”

You sat together in silence for a moment longer, just basking in each other's presence. Eventually, he asks you to disenchant the snake and turn it back into a scarf, informing you that he was feeling a little overwhelmed at the moment. You did as he asked, taking care to place the scarf back in the box carefully, saving it for another time. 

He held you close that night, limbs entangled, your face tucked into his neck as he combed his fingers through your hair. Basking in your warmth and replaying your image in his head. 

—————

It’d been a few days since then, the both of you sitting at the kitchen table enjoying a peaceful morning. You gazed out the window at the rising sun, sipping your coffee, lost in thought. Ominis stroked his fingers on the back of your hand idly, an enchanted book in the other hand, seemingly engrossed in the words. In reality, Ominis’s attention was elsewhere, mulling over the events of the days prior. 

He’d used the scarf a handful of times, for short periods as it was still quite overwhelming, preferring to use his wand for most things. 

However, a thought continuously ran through his mind every time he saw you. He loved seeing the little expressions that were often lost to him, treasuring each one, but as time went on his eyes would drift lower, wondering what you’d look like under your clothes. He’d trace the contours of your body, his hands lightly following the path his eyes blazed.

He wanted desperately to peel your layers off, slowly exploring your skin with his lips, wondering what color you’d turn with his mouth on you. 

What he wasn’t thrilled about, was the large snake he’d have to wrap around his shoulders, wearing it the entire time he ravaged you. He turned the thought over in his mind, pondering possible solutions, and the things you’d said about the nature of the spell itself.

“Darling, may I ask you something?”

You turned your head towards him, eyes blinking slowly as you came out of your distracted daze. “Of course, my love, anything.” 

He paused for a moment, mindlessly stroking your hand in thought. “That spell, does it only work on animals?” 

You cocked your head, to the side, considering his inquiry. “I’m…not sure. The spell specifies that a connection is required, but I don’t know if it’s strictly limited to beast companions. Why do you ask?”

Ominis hummed in thought. “Simply curious.”

 

You nodded, squeezing his hand. “I’ll do some research today while you’re at work.” 

Smiling, he gently brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles lightly. “Thank you, darling.”

—————

It took a couple more days, and a brief trip to see Natty, but you think you’d done it. Ominis sat in front of you on the couch waiting patiently, a nervous buzz beneath his skin. He closed his eyes in anticipation, until he felt the now familiar feeling of the spell taking effect. 

Opening his eyes, he was startled with the image of himself sitting on the couch. It was interesting watching his own reactions, finding coordination difficult as you sat across from him. 

You watched him flail about for a moment, unsure of how to match his movements to what he was seeing. Standing, you take the seat next to him. “Better?”

He nods, and turns his face to you, disappointed when he only sees himself looking back. This wouldn’t do at all. His brows furrowed, a pout forming on his lips. “I can’t see you.” 

You chuckle and grab his hand, guiding him once more to the large mirror in the hall. Standing in front, you gesture to your reflection. “Problem solved.” 

Ominis slots himself up behind you, winding his arms around your torso as he places his chin on your shoulder, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips. “Problem solved indeed.” 

There was something in his voice that sent a shiver down your back, but you watched him start to place light, lingering kisses on your neck. You stood there, tilting your head to give him better access, to which he groaned in appreciation, his kisses becoming a bit more forceful. 

You continued to watch him in the mirror as he worked his way up your neck, flinching when he bit your ear playfully. He laughed quietly in amusement, enjoying every expression you gave him and moved his hands to your hips, squeezing them. 

“Ominis…” Panting slightly, an aroused flush appeared high on your cheek bones, as a needy ache formed between your legs. Pleased hums reverberated against your back, Ominis’s hand traveling upward, brushing your nipple through your clothing. You jerk against him again, a second brush of his thumb pulling a small whimper from you. 

Ominis groaned as he watched you, feeling giddy and a bit clumsy, as if this were your first time all over again. He knew the contours of your body like the back of his hand, but savored every twitch and whimper as his eyes devoured you hungrily. 

He kept his gaze fixed on your face, head spinning at the furrow of your brow and half lidded eyes, lips parted slightly, breathing heavy. His hand gripped your chest fully, sucking at your neck with fervor, a breathy whine escaping his lips at your lustful expression. He detached himself from you momentarily to speak. “You’re telling me…this is what you look like when I touch you?” 

He ground his hard dick into your ass, hands tugging your hips tight against him. “I haven’t even undressed you yet, and you already look like this?” 

Reaching a hand up, you close your eyes and slam his mouth down onto yours in a passionate kiss. He moans into your mouth, disappointed he could no longer see you, but loving the desperation with which you kissed him. Twisting in his arms, you stand on your toes, winding your arms around his neck to keep him close. 

Ominis wrapped his arms around you, stroking your sides as he pushed his tongue past your lips. Suddenly, he rips himself from you, panting a demand into your mouth. “Upstairs. Now.” 

You waste no time grabbing his hand and clumsily leading him up the stairs, both of you tripping in your excitement. He kicked the door shut behind him, tugging on your hand forcefully, bringing you back into another searing kiss. He had one hand on your face and the other gripping a handful of clothing at your waist, spinning you around to push you against the door. 

His hand traveled from your waist, skimming your thigh before lifting your leg to his hip, giving him better access to grind his lower body into you. Moaning, your hands find his hair, pulling on it while you pant his name between sloppy kisses. 

“Is there a mirror in this room?” The words are growled against your mouth and it takes your brain a moment to process his question. 

“A- A  mirror? I- um, n-no I don’t- I don’t think there is.” It was hard to think with him grinding his hard cock into you, creating such delicious friction. He kissed you again, unable to stay detached for too long. 

“Then make one.”

Your legs wobbled at his demanding tone, unsure if you’d even be able to make it to your wand on the bedside table. “M-My wand…it’s oh Merlin- it’s on the table by Ominis- by my side of the bed.” 

Groaning, he tugged you from the door, lips never leaving yours as his hands caressed you every place they could reach. The both of you fumbled your way to the bed, your hand blindly searching the table for your wand, almost knocking it on the floor. 

Tearing your mouth from his momentarily, you transfigure your bureau into a huge mirror sitting on the far wall. The image of your disheveled appearance, with Ominis wrapped around you, appeared in the reflection. 

Ominis whimpered loudly, rolling his hips into you hard. “Merlin, my love, I can’t- you look so good. Did I- Did I do that to you?.”

Your eyes roll back at the awe in his voice, barely able to stand. His hands tug at your clothes with purpose, cursing under his breath. “Get these wretched things off.” 

Tearing at your clothes, you’re eager to comply, ripping the clothes from your body as he does the same. When you finish, he climbs backwards onto the bed, hands tugging you along with him. He lets his hands explore your body as he kisses you, fingers traveling lower, feeling the wetness between your legs. 

“So wet. All for me. All mine.” 

You loved when he got possessive like this, but today especially, he seemed so wild, like a beast in heat. You’re abruptly turned around, Ominis settling behind you once more. Craning your neck, you go to question him, but the words die in your mouth when you catch a glimpse of your reflection. 

All you see is your naked body on full display, Ominis hovering over your shoulder, staring at your reflection hungrily. Becoming a bit self conscious, you try to cover yourself, but your hands are immediately ripped from your body, his grip tight on your wrists. 

“Don’t you dare.” 

Whimpering you try to tug your hands from him. “Ominis, it’s a bit- it’s embarras-“

“I don’t care. Let me look at you.” Growling his words directly into your ear, he releases your hands, peppering wet kisses on your shoulder. Ominis brings one hand to your chest, rolling your nipple between his fingers while the other travels lower, skimming your stomach. Your breathing picks up again as you watch it, anticipation replacing anxiety. 

His hand stops just short of where you want it, stroking the skin possessively. “Don’t even think about closing your eyes. I won’t miss a single second of you coming undone.” 

Before you could respond, his fingers plunged the rest of the way, finally where you wanted them. You automatically close your eyes as you let out a shameless whine, but immediately feel him halt his movements. “What, did I just say?” 

Forcing your eyes open, you train them on your entangled bodies in the mirror. “Good. So good.” 

He continued his movements, fingers driving you higher and higher almost tipping you over the edge, but it wasn’t enough. You start moving your hips against his hand, making sure to rub his leaking cock against your ass. His movements falter and he tucks his face against your shoulder for a moment, breathing frantic and heavy.

“Ominis, my love, I need- Merlin, I need more. Please. More.” Emphasizing your plea with the grinding of your hips, it only takes a moment before Ominis rips his fingers from you, leaning back on his heels a bit to line his aching cock up with your entrance. 

“As you wish, darling.” 

He pushes into you slowly, maintaining enough self restraint to still be gentle, knowing you’d need a moment to adjust to his size. You cried out at the full feeling, a string of whispered encouragements falling from your lips. You struggled to keep your eyes open, but were rewarded with the sight of Ominis, completely wrecked as he shoved himself inside of you. 

Once he was fully seated, he stilled a moment just breathing, his face resting in the crook of your neck. He waited a bit longer than you would have liked, so you attempted to buck against him, trying to coax him into moving. Instead an arm clamped around your front, preventing you from moving, while the other hand came to cover your eyes. 

As you were about to ask, you felt a wetness on your shoulder, startling you. “My love, what’s wro-“ 

“I’m sorry, my darling, I just- I just need a moment.” His voice was quiet, words watery as he kept still, holding you. Tears silently ran down your back, as Ominis released shaky breaths into your skin, arm tightening around you.

“I love you. So much. It’s- Sometimes I get overwhelmed by how much I love you, and this…treasure you’ve given me is- is…my love, I can’t even begin to tell you what it means to me. You deserve so much more than I can give you. I’m sorry, but…I don’t- I don’t think I could live without you anymore.” Ominis sobbed his words into your shoulder, one of your hands clamped on his arm, and the other gripped the back of his head, trying your best to hold him in your current position. 

The tears stopped a moment later, and he lifted his head to place a few loving kisses on your lips, hand still covering your eyes. Sniffing slightly, he nudged your nose with his, whispering an apology. “I’m sorry for ruining the moment, darling.”

Laughing quietly, you card your fingers comfortingly through his hair. “No moment with you is ruined, my love.” 

You wiggle your hips a bit, reminding him of your current situation. “However, I would still like to finish, if you’re up for it.” 

Chuckling in amusement, some of the fire came back to his chest. Kissing your shoulder a few times, he moves to speak directly in your ear. “Always.” 

He starts out slow, grinding his hips into yours, trying to build your desire back up to where it had been. His hand comes off your eyes, and you immediately open them to look at your reflections. Ominis moans as your image floods his mind once more, hips starting to move faster. “So fucking pretty.” 

Shuddering at his praise, needy whines fight their way out of your throat, begging him to go faster. Obliging you, his hips snap forward at a wild pace, his chin hooked over your shoulder to keep you close. “I can’t- my love, I don’t think I can last much longer. I need you to- oh Merlin darling, I need you to cum. Please. I need it so badly.” 

Ominis trails one hand down your front and starts working you in time with his thrusts. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, struggling to keep them open. “No, no, no, my love, please keep your eyes open. I want to -fuck, I want to watch you fall apart. Please, let me. Please?” 

His thrusts get sloppy as he speeds up, fingers stroking you so perfectly. He whispers praises into your ear. Telling you how good you are for him, how much he loves you, how much he needs you, how desperately he wants you to cum. His pleading whispers hurl you over the edge and you force your eyes to stay open for him. 

He sobs at the sight of you, finishing as soon as he feels you convulse around him. Emptying himself inside you, his hips keep twitching and grinding, prolonging both of your pleasure. Lips brush your neck as he speaks praises into your skin, thanking you for staying with him, for loving him. 

The room was silent, save for your combined panting, the two of you trading comforting caresses as you come down. You allowed the spell to fade, Ominis eventually pulling himself from you to find a cloth, not needing his wand to navigate your shared home. Once he returned, he wiped you down with gentle, practiced motions, kissing your skin with an ‘I love you’ every now and then. Once he’d finished, Ominis tossed the cloth into some dark corner of the room, a problem for tomorrow. Laying down, he pulls you into his chest with a pleased sigh, kissing your forehead twice before settling. 

You’re both quiet for a long time, Ominis rubbing lazy, contemplative circles between your shoulder blades. The feel of his fingers and the beat of his heart lulling you into near sleep, only interrupted by his quiet voice. 

“Marry me.” 

Eyes closed, you smile to yourself. So demanding. 

“When?” 

“Tomorrow.”

You huff in amusement, too tired to do much more. “I’ll owl Anne and Sebastian then.”

His lips stretch into a sweet smile against your forehead.

“I already did.” 

[kissforyouu]

𝙲𝙰𝚁𝙳𝙸𝙶𝙰𝙽 . 𝚓𝚓𝚔

pairing : jungkook x reader

genre : college boy!jungkook , fwb , so much fluff , situationship , confusing relationship

warning : angst , strong language , smoking , masturbation , use of weed and drugs , getting high , lots of kisses🤭 , oral sex ( f recieving ) , doggy , unprotected sex , situationships. (trigger warning😓)

Inspired by Cardigan - Taylor Swift

unedited.

> read pt. 1 here

It's been about three weeks since Jungkook had left my door. I try, but I still can't make up my mind with the fact that it's all over. It's even harder, because Jungkook was always apart of my daily routine. We'd go get our groceries together, drop eachother by our respective classes, study together, hangout and so much more. It's not just the fucking, or the kissing, he was also my best friend. Losing my bestfriend was even worse. Sometimes I'd wonder how it would've been if we never had sex. Would we still be friends? Best friends? Would it have been better? It would have been better, I think. Maybe. Or maybe not. I don't fucking know.

Or maybe we'd just be strangers and I would've never gotten to experience this love from him? Or maybe—it wasn't even love. Well, obviously, it wasn't. He made it clear. Very clear.

Although it's been a week, Jungkook has never tried to contact me. It hurts, but whatever. Clearly he's enjoying his time though, judging by his instagram stories. Party after party. I always see him either drinking or going out with his friends on social media. Okay. I might be stalking him on social media. But hey, it's not exactly stalking when the information is public and accessible to anyone, right? So, I'm not stalking. I'm only making use of my rights as someone using social media.

It's whatever. Jungkook's whatever. I'll move on. Of course, I will. It's nothing a bit of journaling and music can't fix, right? Yeah.

I hum to my music, continuing to write on my journal. This was my way of letting all my feelings out. I'd journal, write and doodle about it. It was calm, and it also helped me open up and learn more about myself. I liked it.

I continued to write...

I still want him. I want him so so much. I really hate to admit that, but I do. I don't know what's gotten over me. I have to make up my mind, I really really do. Jungkook proved to me that I was nothing but some fuck, but why can't I think the same? It's slowly driving me insane. In addition to that, I really really really really fucking hate the fact that I'd go back to him in a heartbeat if I could.

I let out a sigh, closing the journal. This is what I've been doing for the past three weeks. It's stupid, really, we weren't even fucking dating! I keep thinking about that, and it's driving me crazy. Whatever. I placed my journal and headphones back on my table, then getting back on my bed. Covering myself with my soft pink sheets, I made myself comfortable enough to fall asleep.

I hated this so much.

Everywhere I looked, it always reminded me of Jungkook. I hated how every corner of my room had some sort of memory attached to him. Whether it was just him holding one of my belongings, standing in a specific area, or him just doing something—it always reminded me of him.

The worst was my bed. Everytime I got on it, I just couldn't help but think of all the things we did on it. I couldn't help but think of the places his hands touched me, the feeling of his lips on my skin, or the feeling of his cock going in and out of me. I hated this because sometimes—sometimes! Just sometimes I'd feel myself getting hot down there.

I hate to admit this but—

"Mm..." a whimper leaves my mouth at the feeling of my fingers pressing onto my clothed clit. All that thinking got me wet. I slowly drag my fingers up and down, caressing my folds. I imagine it's his fingers, Jungkook's, teasing my folds slowly.

What would he do right now? He'd subtly touch me everywhere to get me soaking wet.

My other hand reaches down to my left breast, rubbing my nipple through the material. A few seconds later, the material of my top was now discarded on the bed. I continue to rub my nipple slowly, just the way he would. My other hand was caressing my thighs slowly, letting my fingertips subtly touch the surface of my skin. I gather a good amount of spit in my mouth, then bringing my fingers to my lips, then my nipples. I spread the liquid all around my nipple, flicking it too.

A heavy breath is heard, my fingers creeping inside my panties this time. It was a new sensation. I never masturbated. I didn't need to. I had Jungkook.

A small whimper echoes within my mouth as my fingers come in contact with my folds, spreading the arousal around. Shit, I was so wet. Not as much I was whenever I was around him though. I gather some of the arousal, rubbing my clit with it next. I moan, continuing to rub myself. It felt awfully good. I imagine it's him. His fingers teasing and rubbing my clit while his face was squished in between my tits. That's how it'd usually go.

An embarrassingly whiny moan slips past my mouth at my thoughts, fuck I want him so bad. I continue to rub myself faster, my back now arched a little. I rub my bud in the motion of an 8, hoping for a release. It feels good, but not that good.

I then run my middle and ring fingers up and down my folds. I imagine it's his tongue, sliding up and down on me as he savours the taste. "So good..." I hum. I retreat my fingers back to my clit, rubbing it again. About a minute later of continuous rubbing, heavy breaths and small whines, I slowly feel my high approaching. I squeeze my eyes shut, imagining it's him, as my body shudders.

I don't rub myself further, stopping myself right there. I was now sensitive down there. I didn't cum. Fuck, this is annoying.

Groaning, my body sits back up on the bed. I put back all my clothes on, pee and get right back to bed. This was unsuccessful and very annoying. Embarrassing, too. What have I done? Fuck, really, Y/n? Over Jungkook. Yes, Over Jungkook.

Okay, just sleep it off. I tell myself, trying to convince myself that what I had done just now was totally not embarrassing.

I groan at the sound of my annoying alarm beeping on my nightstand. "Fuck you", I turn the alarm off, groaning once more as I roll off the bed. I grab my phone, my eyes still blurry, and then— FUCK. IT WAS 12PM. MY CLASSES START AT 11AM. FUCK, FUCK, FUCK. I rise up from the bed, running to my bathroom. I have to make this very quick. I grab the toothbrush and get in the shower, washing my body while brushing my teeth. 5 minutes later, I run out of the bathroom to open my closet. I throw a pair of jeans and a hoodie before quickly putting them. I don't bother to style my hair or to eat, I just grab my bag and laptop before running out of my dorm. Mina, my roommate, didn't even wake me up. Where even is she? I didn't see her coming back home yesterday? Whatever.

I speed walk to my class that's already started one hour ago. Shit, hopefully the teacher doesn't give me a bad grade or note this down. I had a record of being one of the top 10 students in each class I took. I wouldn't want to drop it because of something so careless and small.

I hesitantly walk inside the door, my foot taking small nervous steps. The teacher looks at me, her eyebrow raising up to a confused look on her face. "Y/n, you're late" She taps her pointer finger on her chin repeatedly.

Bringing my lip in between my teeth, I nod my head in return. "Uh, I'm so sorry, Ms. Kim"

"Any particular reason you got late, Y/n?" She asks.

Oh yeah, I miss my ex - ex best friend - ex talking stage - ex fuck buddy— or whatever, and then I rubbed one out for him and passed out on the bed right after.

"Um, just overslept"

"Ah, pity. As a punishment, stay after class and help out the librarian please. New stack of books incoming!"

I press my lips into a thin line, nodding. It's not like I have another choice.

"Yes, madam."

She giggles in return, then directs me to my seat.

Another hour has passed, the bell has rung. After class. A groan echoes out of me as I rise up from my seat, clutching onto my bag. My friend looks at me, then giggles before patting my shoulder twice in hopes of comforting me a little. She leaves the room.

"Y/n, I hope I see you tomorrow on time. You're a good student, don't lose that reputation." Ms. Kim flashes a bland smile as she exits the classroom. Shrugging, I walk out of the classroom as well, heading to the library.

"Hi, Ms. Kent! I wave at the librarian.

"Y/n, isn't it? Ms. Kim informed me about you." She responds as she adjusts her glasses.

I nod my head back at her, my hands holding on to eachother at the back.

"Great! You can help me by taking out that stack of books and putting them inside this box" She hands me a big cardboard box.

I take it as I walk to the book shelf she pointed at. I turn around to look at the librarian, desperately hoping that she'd come help me out. But no, nevemind. She was on her chair, legs resting on top of her table as she took a nap. Okay, fine, take your rest. She probably deserves it, anyway.

I turn back, my hands now on my hips. "Good luck, y/n" my eyes scan the big shelf.

I start by taking out the books at the lowest layer, then gradually making my way to the top. "Hmm..." I hum, looking around the library for a tool. In order to reach the top, I needed something to get on. As I scan the room, my eyes land on the small tool in a corner. "Ah!"

Getting on the stool, my spread out my arms in order to balance myself. I grab a few books, then slowly lowering myself down to the box to drop the books. It's a bit of a risky task. I could break a limb. "Good", words of relief leave my mouth. I repeat the process, slowly and watching each of my steps.

I bend down to drop another book then lift myself back up, my feet doing a 60° degree again to align myself perfectly in front of the shelf. I grab one of the last few books on the shelf, turning around to drop it into the box. Uh, oh. There we go. I fall to the ground with a yelp. I lost my balance. Groaning, I close my eyes. Maybe I'll just lay here for a few minutes till the pain goes away. It really hurts though, I rub my hip and waist area. I'll apply some balm when I get back to my dorm.

"Y/n?"

I want to drown myself in a river.

I know that voice better than anyone else's. What the fuck is he doing here.

In the other hand, it felt really nice hearing my name coming out of his mouth. I missed his voice.

I gulp at the feeling of two fingers patting my shoulder. I don't want to open my eyes because I know I'll come eye to eye with the person I seriously do not wanting to be talking to right now. But I do it anyway.

"Y-you good?" He stutters.

I nod, slowly raising myself up. I flinch, wincing at the sudden jolt of pain on my lower back. My hand grips onto the closest shelf as I slowly lift myself back up on my feet. Jungkook offers me his hand for support, but I deny it. I just want to walk away.

"Y/n—

I walk past him with the now full cardboard box, ignoring the stabbing pain I'm feeling. Lifting this is so hard, fuck, especially with my now broken back. Broken is probably an exaggeration, but whatever.

I place the box in the small room right next to the library that's filled with stacks of books and other material. I'm done!

I go back inside the library to grab my bag and other items. As I put my pair of glasses inside the bag, I feel the soft honey-like voice from before say my name again.

"Y/n" I'm done.

Ignoring him would be too immature and would cause even more problems. So it's better to say something, right? Totally not because I want to talk with him, maybe, kind of.

"Jungkook." I gulp.

"Let me talk to you." Oh.

"About?"

"Us" Oh.

"There's nothing to talk about us, Jungkook."

"Yes, there is."

"No, there isn't. You made it clear."

"Jesus, Y/n. Can we move on from that, please?"

I scoff. "Fuck, no."

His hand immediately catches my wrist just when I try to walk away.

"Please, let me make it up to you—

"Jungkook. No."

I make it very clear to him that I don't want anything with him anymore. Maybe I do. But maybe I'm scared to get hurt again. Doesn't matter.

I pull my wrist away from his grip. I don't look back but walk straight out of the library.

If you wanted to talk to me and make things right, you should've done it two weeks ago.

Stepping into the safe space of my dorm, I sigh, plopping myself on the bean bag. My fingers go through my hair, softly caressing it and massaging my scalp. Shamelessly, my mind drifts away to the moment where Jungkook's fingers were tangled in betweens my locks, massaging my scalp and stroking my head. Or the times where he would fist my hair, using it to guide my head up and down while I choked on his dick. Unconsciously, my thighs rub against eachother just a little to bring me back to my senses. I look around my room, cheeks flushed and embarrassed. I can't be doing this again, god no.

Deciding to make myself a cup of ramen, I make my way to my little kitchen. I add boiling water to the cup, waiting for the noodles to be ready. Now back on my sofa with my noodles, I was so so ready to dig those chopsticks in and take a bite on my noodles. But my phone suddenly dings, the screen showing a message. It was Jungkook. What, Jungkook? Why's he messaging me? Oh fuck, was it about early? I gulp, reaching down to the coffee table to grab my phone.

jungoogie💌: haiiiii😆😁😁

jungoogie💌: Y/NNNNN!!!! ansehwr mem

My eyebrow slightly raises at the texts, noticing how messy and chaotic they were. Is he was drunk? I began typing my reply.

No, what.

I immediately press the call option then and there after reading the message of him saying he was going to take another gummy. What was wrong with him?

The call answered fast, the first thing I hear being him giggling.

"Y/nnnn?"

My name is heard in a slurred speech, a set of small giggles being heard once again after.

"Jungkook? Where are you?"

He hums into the phone, then small wet kissy noises being heard after. Is he kissing his phone?

"Miss you...so much..."

My heart warms up at his words. I know I shouldn't let it affect me, but I felt the same. It's been weeks since I had last seen Jungkook, and I've wanted nothing more than to be in his arms and hold. I clear my voice a bit before speaking again.

"I miss you too. Can you tell me where you are, please?"

I need to make sure where he is. Back before I met him, he used to go around the street and get high for fun with Yugyeom. I stopped him later on. But he's back at it again, I guess.

"You do?!" His voice suddenly escalates from tired and slurred to hype pitched and excited. He is being so adorable right now.

"Baby, I...miss you too!" Jungkook groans, then a small thud is heard. I hear Jungkook sigh, sounding very relaxed and calm.

"Mm, are you in your dorm?"

Jungkook hums in confirmation. And just at that, I get up from my bed before walking out the door. I cannot let him get even more high. Even more so, who knows what else he'll do in there.

"Jungkook, keep talking"

"Can I sing?"

"Yeah"

"Vintage tee, brand new phone, high heels on..."

He knew I liked that song. He's doing this on purpose. As he continues to serenade me, I slowly make my way upto his dorm. We weren't allowed to be here. One of the rules in our university was that no one of the opposite gender should be seen at another's dorm. That's a rule me and Jungkook had broken way before. He was always there in my dorm. I'm surprised he was never caught.

Too lost in Jungkook's voice, I forget that I was already near his dorm. Snapping back to reality, I hesitantly ask Jungkook to stop singing.

"Kook, open your door. I'm there."

I'm sure of this, right? Yeah, yeah I am.

"Oh?" His singing stops, his voice switching to a more confused tone. Next, I hear small sounds, then thuds on the floor as they got closer and closer.

The door shoots open in a hurried manner, his eyes falling onto mine. But his eyes are not the thing I'm looking at, it's the weed roll in his hand. I look back at him, my eyebrows now furrowed.

"Baby—"

"When did you start smoking again?" I cross my arms against my chest.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, bringing the blunt upto his mouth to inhale some.

"A few days after we stopped talking" He admits. He looks guilty, but I try to ignore it. I was still mad at him. For everything. In addition, about this too.

Jungkook angles his body to the side, making space for me to walk in. I walk past his body towards his room.

Once I enter, I let out a small gasp at the state of his room. It was so fucking messy. Clothes here and there on the floor, his books scattered across his table alongside empty cans of frizzy drinks and empty ramen cups, bed fully messy and sheets on the floor included.

"What the fuck happened here?" I ask, concern flowing through me.

I feel his hand snake around my waist, cold fingertips giving me chills as they traced my belly. My body instinctively leans back into his, my back pressed against his chest. Jungkook's sighs into my neck, the tip of his nose caressing my collarbones.

"Missed you..." He was holding me so tight that I almost couldn't breathe. He was holding me so tight as if it's the last time he'll ever be able to do so.

I don't say anything else while I lead the both of us to the top of his bed. Jungkook doesn't allow me to move much, caging me in between his body and the bed right away. I lay flat as his body settles in between my legs. I run my fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp.

Jungkook takes one look at me, then another inhale from his weed roll. I forget he even had it.

He blows the smoke away, eyes still on mine, staring into the deep the corners of my eyes. Suddenly, I start coughing, my hand on my chest as I tried to calm down my breathing. The smoke was making me cough.

Jungkook sits on the bed, alerted as he starts to mutter sorrys over and over.

"Fuck, fuck, I'm sorry, baby"

His hand rubs up and down my back in a soothing manner in an attempt to calm me down. It works, of course. My breathing slows down to my normal pace. Jungkook looks at his blunt, getting up from the bed before taking one last inhale then throwing it in the bin.

He groans, now inside his bathroom. I hear the sound of the water running down.

The light is turned off again as Jungkook exits the bathroom. He looks at me sitting on his bed. This time he notices the outline of my breasts, clearly visible from the thin material of the shirt I was wearing. His eyes trail down my body, from the outline of my breasts to my nipples, then my waist.

"No bra?" Jungkook breaks the silence.

I shook my head, pushing my shoulders back so I could lean against the headboard. And also that my tits were even more visible to him, but I don't want to admit to it. I watch Jungkook's eyes shift from my face to my tits. He walks towards the bed and gets on it.

Sitting on the bed right in front of me, Jungkook sighs, gripping onto my thigh before pulling me towards him so that I'm laying flat on the bed.

We lock our eyes together, our breathing suddenly syncing in as Jungkook hooks onto the edge of my shirt. He looks at me, for approval.

Fuck, how could I not? I've been wanting to feel him so bad.

I nod, gulping.

He raises the shirt upwards, exposing my tummy. Jungkook leans down to place a few kisses all over it. He continues to kiss my tummy in circles, causing me to let out a few giggles at the ticklish feeling here and there. And each time I did, he would raise up his head to look at me, his eyes big and sparkling.

Jungkook moves the shirt more upwards, my tits now out and bare as the end of the shirt laid right over them.

His hands immediately fly to cup my breasts, holding them. He sighs.

"So warm..."

Jungkook crawls further, so that his head is laying on my breasts. He nuzzles himself deeper, cheek pressed against my chest and hands groping my breasts. I watch him attentively, finding this moment comforting.

He slowly turns around to look at me, and this time, I notice how his eyes are half lidded, reddish with veins visible. It's from all that weed and gummies. Jungkook says nothing though, he just looks at me in awe, but also guilt.

I glide my thumb over his cheekbone, stroking it. Jungkook leans in to my touch, then colliding his lips and my palm, small smooch noises being heard after.

This is nice. I want to have this everyday.

He proceeds kiss my fingers, trailing them up wrists to my arms, then collarbone, my throat and upto my face. I close my eyes, focusing on the feeling of his soft thin lips on me and the small smooch sounds they create. Right then, he kisses both of my closed eyelids, then nose, cheeks, chin. The only area left were my lips. My eyes open to look at him.

His breath was fanning against my lips. We were inches away from kissing.

Jungkook cracks up a small giggle,

"I think you sobered me up a little."

He pulls away to sit up on the bed again.

No, kiss me. I want you to kiss me.

I clutch onto his shirt, pulling him back to me. Jungkook was surprised, his hand gripping onto my arm for support. I lean in to peck his lips once. I pull away, my lashes batting as I stare at him.

Jungkook looked shocked. He shouldn't be, I just let him kiss me all over. His expressions change, turning into a more soft and relaxed look on his face. His big eyes stare back at me as he leans in, going for another kiss.

The kiss feels passionate, deep and so — real. It feel real.

Jungkook's eyebrows furrow, head tilting to the side to deepen the kiss more. Our lips move against eachother so perfectly. The kiss wasn't rough, neither was is soft. It was perfect, filled with longing and love.

He settles his legs down next to my thighs, caging my body. I grab his hand, holding it with both my hands to my heart. I'm sure he could feel how fast my heart was beating. He whimpers, sending vibrations through my mouth. The kiss was getting sloppy and air was running out. But we continued kissing. I missed his lips so much. His soft lips against mine, moving in a synchronised rhythm. Even our breathing was synchronised.

After one final smooch, I pull away with a gasp in a serious need of air. My head arches onto the pillow, hair messy and arm thrown over my head as I catched breath.

I lower my eyes down to look at Jungkook, who was looking at me as if I was the only thing that mattered to him. If I could, I'd hit replay and live this moment over and over again.

He cups my face, squishing my cheeks while he left small pecks all over my upper and lower lip. My lips turn into an uncontrollable smile, so big and bright. He continued to peck my lips, teeth even, then my cheeks.

I don't know what is making him do this, is it the weed and gummies he took earlier or is it actually him.

"Mmmm..." I whine once he pulls away.

There is so much tension in the room right now. But nothing sexual, I don't want to fuck him right now. Maybe later. But not now.

Everything we did right now obviously meant we had to talk about it later. Especially about Jungkook's behaviour. The drugs, the weed, the messy room, calling me. Everything. Would I go back to him after this? Yeah.

There is an awkward silence again, and Jungkook looks like he wants to say something so bad. I can say that because he keep tugging onto his lower lip with his teeth, nibbling on it constantly. For a moment, he opens his mouth, ready to say something but closes it again. My eyebrow raises. Patting Jungkook's cheek,

"Say it." I tell him.

"I love you."

Jungkook whispers, audible enough for me to hear. Audible enough to send me into euphoria. Audible enough to make me fucking forget everything for a moment.

I don't say anything back for a few seconds. Jungkook looks relaxed and relieved, maybe glad that he finally said it. Before I could say anything back, he covers my mouth with his hand.

"Don't say anything, please. I don't want to hear it yet. Let's just go to sleep and talk in the morning."

Jungkook lays down on the bed right next to me, his arm wrapping around my waist. His big eyes sparkle, looking directly into mine.

I don't say anything back just like he wants, but I wrap my arms around his torso, pulling him closer to me. I don't know whether it was the weather or something else, but Jungkook felt so warm. The atmosphere around us as well. Everything felt warm and comfortable. Nuzzling my face further into his chest, I hum, comfortable as fuck. My heart skips a beat once I feel his fingers on my head. He run them through my hair, massaging my scalp and patting my head. Fuck, I missed this so much.

I soothe into his touch, my body weight now entirely on him. As my eyes get even more drowsy, I let myself fall asleep in his embrace.

Before even realising, the morning had come already. What did make us realise that was Jungkook's alarm going off.

Jungkook groans, rolling over to the other side to turn his alarm off. When he turns around, he finds my back facing him fully. I had shifted while sleeping. Jungkook giggles, his arm pulling me back to him as my back collides with his hard chest. He thinks of going back to sleep again, but too late, the alarm had already woken me up. Just when Jungkook presses his head onto my shoulder, I pull his hair away so that his head is back on the pillow.

"I'm awake"

"Don't care" Jungkook murmers.

"Jungkook"

"Fucking hell..." He groans.

He rubs his eyes open. Jungkook yawns again, then going back to lay his head on my back.

"My head hurts" he sighs.

"Probably because of the things you did last night. Maybe I could give you a massage?"

Jungkook's eyes lit up at the suggestion. Eagerly, he nods his head already sitting up on the bed.

"Take your shirt off and lay on your stomach"

Jungkook can't help but crack up a small laugh at my comment while I tilt my head to the side, clearly confused.

"What?"

"Nothing" He grins.

"No, say it"

—"Say it." - "I love you" —

"It's just that it's usually me who says it you know, cause, when we have sex..." he giggles again.

I look at him, grinning back. Grabbing the pillow, I hit his back with it. Jungkook pokes his tongue, looking at the outline of my nipples through my shirt when I stretch my arms up to hit him. He snorts at the hit, then taking his shirt off before throwing it on the ground.

I get on top of his back once he lays down.

I take my time to admire his naked back, sculptured to perfect. It was so perfect and built. You could tell that he worked out just by the side of his back.

I begin with his shoulders, gently massaging them to ease the tension out. He hums as I continue massage his shoulders now increasing the pressure. I move down to his arms, squeezing them and sort of punching them to relax them. Jungkook's eyebrows raise up,eyes closed as he nods his head in approval. I then press onto his bones, circling them from time to time as I switch in between squeezing his muscles to massaging his bones.

I loved the feel of his muscles. Touching them felt so nice. I loved it when I felt him relax at the pleasure of my hands massaging him. I take a moment to admire his back again, running my hand up and down his back. Unknowingly, my nails begin to scratch his back. He lets out a long moan at the soothing feeling.

I giggle, leaning down to press a small kiss behind his neck. I get no reaction back from him, so I continue to trail kisses down his back. Jungkook shifts a little in his position, groaning a little.

"Jungkook, turn around" I whisper.

I get off of him for a brief moment so that Jungkook could lay on his back before getting back on top of him again. Now that my clothed pussy was pressed onto his growing buldge, I grip onto his shoulders to massage him more. He moans at the feeling, head thrown back.

"Here, baby?"

His eyebrow is raised because of the tone of my voice—flirty— and the nickname I used on him. I never called him baby. Ever.

"What's up with you?" He asks.

I immediately give in not being to control myself more, I dive in for a kiss. Jungkook understands how I'm feeling, smirking into the kiss while his hands sneakily slide up my legs and inside my shorts. He palms my ass cheeks, rubbing his palm over them. My arms lay on around his head, caging it, as both our mouths working on eachother's. My tongue licks his lower lip, a smile forming on my lips slowly. I feel his hands leave the inside of my shorts to slap both my cheeks, a cocky laugh coming from him next. Jungkook then hooks onto the waistband of my shorts, pulling them down upto my ankles. My ass was now bare and out.

I go back in for a kiss, arching my back as well. I whimper into the kiss once Jungkook sneaks his way into my mouth with his tongue, at the same time — his fingers touching my pussy. I could imagine his smirk right now. Fuck. I feel the tip of his fingers teasingly tracing along my folds teasingly. To spite me up even more, he inserts the very tip of his fingers in, but nothing more. I grunt, trying to grind myself back on his fingers. I was begging for some friction. Jungkook's fingers leave my pussy, only to be back with a small slap on it.

I groan into his mouth, letting him take over me with his godly tongue. His middle finger touches my bud, pressing onto it while my pussy clenches on absolutely nothing. It was so fucking embarrassing but I was dripping wet for him.

Jungkook pulls out of the kiss, now beginning to trail kisses all over my neck. He starts with the side of my neck, then down to my collarbone and back up on my neck again. He nibbles on a spot near my throat, biting it here and there to create a hickey. Jungkook licks over the small purple bruise forming, to then kiss it over and over again. He begins to repeat the process all over on several areas on my neck and collarbones. Meanwhile, I melt onto his touches, just letting him continue kissing and biting me all over. But while being too caught on the moment, I feel his fingers begin to slowly rub my bud. A long moan leaves me as my back arches even more. I'm pretty sure I looked like a fucking cat who was stretching.

"Turn around. Want this pretty pussy on my face" He pats my bud.

Shit, I was so turned on.

Immediately, I turn around, my ass now in front of Jungkook's face. I feel his hands on my cheeks, squeezing them and feeling them all over as he slaps it a few times.

"Sit on my face"

I felt myself clench around nothing.

I turn my upper body around to make sure I won't hurt him, I slowly lift my thighs up to sit on his face. I wasn't exactly putting my whole body weight onto him, more like hovering over him.

"Sit" He commands.

"No, you'll be crushed and my thighs are too big. This is good enough"

I hear him sigh. Next thing I know I feel his hands on my thighs, bringing me down so that my ass was entirely on his face and thighs around his neck and shoulder. My entire body weight was on him.

"I'm not dying, see?" He scoffs.

I whine in defeat, nodding to his words.

Jungkook begins by swiping his tongue up for a long stripe on my pussy, then going in again. He repeats the process, but much rougher, with his nose pressing onto my flesh. Meanwhile, his hands rub and squeeze my thighs, delivering a few slaps here and there. I lean forward a little balance myself out, but suddenly jolt at the feeling of his tongue entering my pussy.

"Shit!" I moan.

Gripping onto his shoulders for support, my back arched and pussy on his face. His face was smothered all over my dripping cunt.

"Baby, you're so wet. This pussy must've missed me, huh?" I feel his thumb dipping in to gather arousal. Jungkook sucks on his thumb, pulling it out again to enter two fingers in my hole at once.

"Fuck!" I wasn't even stretched out to begin with.

He kisses my clit, lips softly sucking on it while his fingers went in and out of me slowly. So slow, that it felt like he was just caressing my wet folds. His teeth gently tucks on my clit to pull on it a little, earning a long moan from me return. He sighs into my pussy, groaning right after, sending vibrations through me adding even more pleasure.

Shit, this was heaven.

He was so mindful with what he was doing. He knew where to touch me, where to kiss, how to tease me and make me like it. He knew my body so fucking well, better than I ever could.

Jungkook pulls out both of his fingers to replace them with his tongue. I feel his tongue swiping through my folds, gulping down all of my juices. His room was filled with nothing but my filthy moans and his slurping noises.

His tongue enters my gaping hole, making my eyes roll back in pleasure. Shit. He saves me no mercy, trusting his tongue in and out of my pussy. Fuck, I was so turned on. I could feel my slick dripping down to his face, smothering it all over.

Panting, I close my eyes just to open them a few seconds later, my eyes immediately landing on the fat dent in his pants. His cock was prominent and big, standing tall even in his quite tight pants. I want to have it. I look beneath me at the man who was currently eating me out like a starved man, biting my lip at the erotic sight.

I groan a little, moving my hips at the same pace as his tongue.

"Jungkook, I want you in my mouth!" I cry out.

He doesn't respond, continuing to eat me out. His finger was now pressed onto my bud, circling it. I whine, desperately wanting a response from him.

Still no response. I then grip onto his shoulders with my hands, leaning forward. I crawl my way over his body, my face right in front of his cock now. I hear Jungkook groan at the lack of my pussy on his face. I turn my upper body around to look at him, giggling at him. Sticking my tongue out playfully, I turn back around only to get dragged back to Jungkook by his arm.

My back collides with his chest, a series of giggles and laughs leaving us. I throw my head back, still laughing, as Jungkook holds both my hands tightly to my chest while not letting go.

He presses his cheek onto my neck, whispering things.

"You want me dick? Yeah, you're gonna get it"

He easily turns my body around so that I was laying on my stomach again. Jungkook now gets on the bed, on top of me as both his thighs are caging mine. He pats my ass cheeks with both his hands while I got myself back up so that my ass was displayed to him clearly with easy access (doggy style). Jungkook releases his breaths, fondling with my ass cheeks, slapping it a few times.

"I could do this all day everyday" He comments.

"Jungkook, I missed you" my voice cracks.

He scoffs. "You missed me or you missed this dick?" He slaps my cheeks again.

I whine, sighing afterwards.

"Both" Jungkook laughs, almost mockingly.

"Wonder how you got yourself off without me, hm? Did you use your hands? Were you even able to make yourself cum?"

I could feel that cocky smirk behind me.

"S-shut up, just fuck me" I could feel the heat in my cheeks growing more each second.

"Did you cum?"

"No"

Jungkook hums, fingers inching towards my pussy.

"You want me to touch you here and make you cum?" His fingers circle my wet clit.

"Mmm-hm" my voice sounds more relaxed, but desperate.

"Here? Touch you like this, baby?" He then pinches my clit and twists it, earning a whiny whimper from me. I was so fucking wet and each touch he gives me got me dripping even more. After, I feel his hand palming my pussy, juices smothering all over his hand while he rubbed my clit painfully slowly.

A long whine leaves me, back arching even more. Fuck.

"Jungkook, p—please... please"

I was a big fucking mess and Jungkook loved it so much.

"No more, please... Just fuck me, mm!"

My hair was messy and all over, head buried into the pillow while Jungkook's hand worked slowly on my pussy. He lets out a little laugh, stopping his movement on me. I don't feel his hand on me no longer, but not even a second later, I gasp at the feeling of the tip of his cock pressed onto my folds.

"Shit, Jungkook" I cuss.

"You're on birth control?"

"Mhm"

We were too fucking horny to even care at this point.

He glides the tip along my folds, coating it nicely with my slick. I hear him pumping himself a few times — not that he wasn't hard enough, fuck his cock was standing so fucking tall — but to bet my slick all over. He aligns himself with my hole once again, patting my ass afterwards.

"You ready?"

"Just put it in!"

He thrusts himself in rough, a big wet noise echoing through the room.

"Fucking hell, baby, you're dripping"

Jungkook begins from just grinding his cock into me while being inside, then gradually increasing his pace. He then stops for a moment to pull his cock out for a second to slam it back in a rough pace. He never stops, repeating the same process over. The sound of his thighs clapping into the back of my thighs echoes through his room alongside the wet mushy noises my pussy made.

"S—shit, so good, taking this cock so well, baby"

He repeatedly slaps both my ass cheeks mid process, enjoying this moment to the max. My whole upper body had collapsed to the bed already, and it was the pillow that Jungkook placed under my stomach that was holding me up.

I was this close to passing out. My mouth was open, saliva spilling to the pillow while he continues to drill into my pussy.

Jungkook leans forward to press his chest onto my back, hands enveloping my breasts to flick and pinch my nipples.

He circles his hips in circular motions, just to pull out and slam back again inside.

I was such a moaning mess.

"Mm, mm, mm! Y-you fuck me so well!" I scream out.

"Oh, baby" He groans.

I feel myself clenching around him repeatedly, about to cum.

"J–jungkook, cumming!"

His thrusts slow down a little but he picks it back up, slopping but fast as he fucks me through my high. I feel my pussy clenching around him tightly, making the man behind me cuss and moan as I finally released all over his cock. Panting, I moan into the pillow as Jungkook kept going on.

His lips leave a few kisses on my back, his thrusts getting sloppier as he went on.

He lets out a long moan, finally releasing myself in my pussy.

"Shit, shit, shit—" a series of moans and cusses leave his mouth.

We both lay there, breathing synchronised and fast. Jungkook then slowly lifts himself off of my body, slipping himself out.

"You look fucked out, baby" He laughs.

"Of course, I would be. You just fucked me rough and I'm stuffed with your cum" I respond.

He puckers his lips, leaning down to place small kisses all over my face.

"Ah, my babyyy. Tired?" I could tell he was teasing me from the little baby voice he's using on me.

I turn my head to the other side, a smile forming on my face, completely forgetting about the fact that I was filled with his cum to the brim.

I feel his hand on my head, fingers twirling my curls at the end. He then holds my chin, gently, moving my face so that I'd face him.

His nose scrunched, Jungkook smiles wide before leaning down to place a soft peck on my puckered lips.

"Cute" He mumbles, and I swear my heart just did a flip.

"Let's get you cleaned"

We both were now on his bed again, cuddled up against eachother after a nice shower together. Both our classes start around 2pm, thankfully, and it was about 9am right now so we had a plenty of time left to just be in eachother's presence. I still had so many questions to ask Jungkook regarding yesterday. But not right now, I wanted to enjoy this moment.

I was currently laying in his arms, my head resting on his hard chest and both arms securely wrapped around my body while we watched whatever show that was on the TV. From time to time, he would lean forward to press a kiss onto my body or just talk about the show we were watching.

"I honestly don't like her character. She's so...ugh" I comment on the TV show, my face scrunch up in disgust.

Jungkook just hums, hand massaging my scalp. He seemed to be out of space a little. Deep in thought. Wonder what he was thinking about. Eh, I could think of a few possibilities.

"Jungkook?" I pat his cheek.

He hums in response, glancing at me.

"You good?"

"Mm, just — ah, yesterday, you know. I'm sorry, baby"

Awwwww.

"No, it's okay. I'm sorry about earlier, though"

"Baby, there is nothing for you to be sorry for, okay? In that case, it's me who should say sorry for anything. I really did care about you right from the start it's just that...I didn't want to admit it, you know? I didn't know whether I was ready for a relationship or not. I know in that way, I was leading you on and I'm sorry for that. But I truly did enjoy and care for you from the bottom of my heart. I just kept trying to convince myself that I didn't want anything else from you..."

I listen silently. He continues...

"...And also, I'm sorry about the café. But we weren't anything to begin with. You were the only girl I talked with throughout the whole time I was sort of seeing you. But after the incident, I started to realise how much of a fucking douche I was to you. But the more realising I did, the more I realised how much I actually cared about you. And that's when I started taking all the gummies and weed again because I needed something to get my frustration off on. But I also worked hard to stop using them because of you. That's when I realised I was in love with you. I was so fucking in love with you that I started to dig up old unhealthy coping mechanisms to cope again which I stopped doing solely because you told me to do so. I felt back because I felt as if I was betraying you but I had already betrayed you so what was the point, I thought. I tried to go to parties to find girls to release my stress but non of them were you so I'd end up disgusted and leave. I'm so fucking sorry, I became a mess"

He stops talking, releasing a sigh. We stay in silence for about 10 seconds before I break it.

"Jungkook, it's alright. I'm glad you told me and everything is fine now, hm? Thank you for telling me. I understand your side and I also forgive you. I'll help you clean your room. I'll help you with everything. And I can't give you an answer for your confession right now, okay? But we can definitely go on a date" I smile, tilting my head to the side.

Jungkook squeals out of happiness, pulling me into his embrace.

"Thank you so much, baby. Take all your time and thank you so much." He responds, the shaking of his voice from earlier now nowhere to be heard.

He leans down to place a kiss on the top of my head, pulling me closer into his embrace while we continued to watch TV.

Maybe this is for the best. This feels right. And I want this. Yeah.

"I like this" I say

"I like you"

I know you'd miss me once the thrill expired, and you'd be standing in my front porch light. And I knew you'd come back to me.

a/n : hii sorry this took a while to post 😭🙏🏽 i been busyyyy. thank you soo much for reading and hope you liked it :)