#she held up and protected us through so much

[keeryhours]

do you wanna come over? - eddie munson

Eddie Munson x female! reader

Main Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Summary:

You’re one of the most beautiful and popular girls in Hawkins, and you’ve set your sights on Eddie Munson. Little do you know, he’s a virgin - and also pretty in love with you.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), protected p in v, unprotected p in v, oral (m and f receiving), cum eating sort of, restraints, virgin!eddie, perv!eddie, drug use, getting walked in on

Word Count: 9.7k

A/N:

This is set up for a part 2, so let me know if you’d like to see that soon! Thank you @punkrockmlchael for my banner and for reading, and thank you @the-witty-pen-name , @fizzing-imagines , @losingmygrasponreality, @lesservillain!

Eddie Munson was your weed dealer and nothing more.

Well, occasionally shrooms. Or Special K. Basically, he was your dealer with no strings attached.

You weren’t even sure if you liked the guy. You didn’t know him. He was very…vocal from what you saw of him in the cafeteria, but he always came along with his small group of nerdy friends. You never saw him with a girl. Not once.

There was no way Eddie Munson was a virgin, right? The dude had done his senior year 3 times now, he was like 20 years old. You figured the girls at school probably just weren’t his taste anymore.

Why Eddie was on your mind so much lately was honestly beyond you. You had never thought of him much before, unless you needed some drugs for the weekend. But now it was like he was always on your mind. You even brought it up to your best friend, Chrissy, after practice.

“There’s just no way he’s a virgin, right?” You asked her as you moved into a split, feeling the muscles in your thighs stretching.

Chrissy giggled as she did the same. “Why are you so interested in Eddie Munson’s sex life all of a sudden?”

“I’m not,” you said quickly. “It just…doesn’t make sense. Have you ever seen him with a girl?”

“Of course not,” Chrissy said. “But who knows what he gets up to outside of school.”

Her words stuck with you. Because you wanted to know what Eddie got up to outside of school.

You found yourself fantasizing about it, dreaming about it. When Eddie first started making his appearances in your dreams, it shocked you. You had never been attracted to him until that night. You dreamt of him shirtless, tattoos exposed on his lithe body. He rolled a joint with his dexterous fingers and lit it, taking a long drag before handing it to you.

“Your turn, princess,” he’d said in a lower, much more suave voice than you’d ever actually heard from him. You grabbed for the joint but he held it out of your reach, bringing it back to his own lips and breathing deeply before leaning in and breathing the smoke out into your mouth. You had moaned against his lips, feeling his smirk against your own mouth.

He looked like a sex god. Sometimes he would grab his guitar and play you a song. Sometimes he would undress you and eat your pussy all night, other times he would make you worship his cock until he was satisfied and cumming all over your face. You especially liked it when he held you down and fucked you like your body begged to be fucked.

Then you’d wake up in a cold sweat, clit throbbing between your legs in a way that had you desperate to go back to sleep and let him finish you off. You’d have to face him at school again, just the usual nerdy guy you remembered.

You figured you had to make a move.

You approached him during lunch, short little green and yellow cheer skirt swaying as you crossed the room towards him. You caught his attention about halfway across the room and he did a double take, wide eyes landing on you as his friends turned to see what had distracted him.

“Hey, Eddie,” you greeted, a small smile on your lips.

“Uh, h-hey,” he said, smoothing a hand through his wild hair. It didn’t do much to tame the curls. “What’s up?”

“I was hoping maybe we could meet up after school?” You asked, your voice obviously flirtatious. One of his friends - Gareth? - raised his eyebrows at him, looking between the two of you with a barely contained smirk.

“Oh! Yeah, for sure,” he said. “The usual? In the woods behind the school?”

“Sounds good,” you agreed. “See you later…Eddie.”

You made a point to sway your hips as you walked away, and you could feel Eddie’s and his friends’ eyes on you. Your ass, specifically. You knew what you had been blessed with, and you weren’t afraid to use it.

That day after school, you snuck off and headed down the familiar path through the wooded area. The leaves crunched beneath your white sneakers as you walked, the October chill making you pull your sweater tighter around your body. No one was at the meetup spot when you arrived, so you sat on top of the table, legs crossed as you waited.

It wasn’t long before the crunching of leaves gave away another presence. Eddie approached the table, eyes locked on your form. God, those legs in that little skirt. He thought about what it might be like to spread them, to breathe in your scent and bury his face between your thighs. He had frequent fantasies of stealing a pair of your panties during practice and bringing them home, bringing them up to his face and breathing deeply, wrapping them around his cock as he fisted it, spilling his cum all over the pretty material. He had no idea what your panties actually looked like, but surely they were as perfect as you.

He carried his metal lunchbox, stocked with weed. His gait was slow as he got closer to you, taking his sweet time to drink in your appearance until he’d had his fill. When he reached the table, he sat the lunch pail down on the wood with a bang.

“What can I get you today, m’lady?” He asked, a playful smile on his face as he performed an exaggerated bow. “A half for 20, perhaps?”

“I’ll take a half,” you said. “And..do you have any more of that Special K?

Eddie slowly looked up at you with a mischievous grin. “Yeah, back at the house. I’ll have to get it. I could bring it tomorrow.”

You shifted from your position, crossing the other leg, and Eddie just about combusted on the spot as he caught the slightest glimpse of your panties. Pink and lacy, exactly what he pictured you’d wear. It completely threw him off.

“Hello? Eddie?”

Your voice snapped Eddie back to reality. “Shit, sorry. What?”

“I said you could bring it tomorrow.” You smiled. “Or I could ride with you to get it then. I just can’t tonight because of practice…”

Eddie swallowed. You really wanted to ride with him back to his place? Alone? “Uh, okay, sure.”

You debated making your next move, wondering if it would be too far, but you went for it anyway. “So, Eddie…I was just wondering. Do you ever take any payment that’s not…money?”

Eddie furrowed his brows. “Like what? Sometimes my car guy does work for me in exchange for weed, but…” The look on your face told him that’s not what you’d been talking about. “Oh, jesus, no. You don’t have to do that. If you need me to spot you, I can-“

“But what if I want to?”

Eddie just stared at you. “You want to…?”

“Oh my god, Eddie.” You spread your legs, reaching for his waist and pulling him into you. Your hand dragged across his cock over his jeans, feeling him already hard and even bigger than you’d imagined. “Why don’t you just let me make you feel good?”

Eddie’s knees felt weak, his heart thundering in his chest as you pulled him close to you. This couldn’t be real, he had to be dreaming. In fact, he was pretty sure he’d had this exact dream before. His hands rested on your thighs to hold himself upright - god, your soft, bare thighs… He started to speak, stopping to clear his throat. “You really don’t have to do this-“

You squeezed his cock through the material, making him moan out loudly. “Does this show you how badly I want to do this?”

His voice cracked when he spoke. “I- yeah, I think I get the idea.” He looked around, like he was expecting someone to jump out from behind a tree and literally catch him with his pants down. “You’re- you’re fucking with me, right? This is all just a big joke?”

“Eddie, I would never do that,” you said earnestly. Your brows furrowed as you looked up at him. “Have you really never done this before?”

“I-“ Eddie backed up, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. “No, I haven’t, okay? I’m not like that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with-“

“No, I know,” he said quickly. “I just…I haven’t.”

“Why not?” you asked again. “Are you into girls? Because it’s okay if you’re not-“

“Yes, I’m into girls!” Eddie rubbed a hand over his face, like he was frustrated. “I haven’t…done things like that before.”

“You haven’t done things like this, or you haven’t done things at all?”

Eddie was quiet. Then, finally- “At all.”

You reached for him, your hand grazing his. He startled at the touch, the electricity that shot through his body at the smallest feeling. “I don’t care if you’re a virgin, Eddie. I just want to make you feel good.”

He looked back at you, letting you pull him close again. “Why?”

“I’ve been…thinking about you,” you admitted.

“Thinking about me?”

“Stop being so coy,” you teased him. “Do you not know how hot you are?”

Eddie shook his head. “No one thinks that.”

“I do.” You said it easily, quickly. “I’ve been thinking about you nonstop. Thinking about all the things I want to do to you…all the things I want you to do to me…”

“Yeah?” He said, his voice low and breathless. “Like what?”

“Just thinkin’ about you, and what those long fingers can do,” you said, fingers trailing along his own. “About your mouth, your tongue.” You ran your hands down his chest. “About how big your cock is, how you’d use it…”

Eddie’s breath hitched in his throat. He could barely breathe when you talked like that. “You…you think those things about me?”

“Of course I do.” You brought his fingers up to your lips, gently pressing them there as you smirked up at him. Your tongue darted out and licked his fingertips and he groaned just under his breath. “I think about you all the time.”

“Why have you never, uh,” he cleared his throat again. “Never said anything before?”

You shrugged, continuing to tease the older boy. “Guess I just got the nerve up.”

Eddie scoffed. “You’re like the hottest girl in school. Why would you ever be afraid to ask someone out? Especially me?”

“You think I’m the hottest girl in school?” You smirked, placing his finger in your mouth and sucking on it. His knees buckled, his cock impossibly hard in his jeans at this point.

Your hands roamed down his chest until you reached his belt buckle. You looked up at him for permission, his heavy lidded gaze glued to yours. He nodded once, and you undid the belt, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling the zipper down painstakingly slowly.

Eddie whimpered as you freed his cock, the massive, thick length catching you by surprise. Eddie reached for the table to hold himself up as you wrapped your fist around it, slowly stroking him.

“H-oh,” he breathed out, hips jerking forward into your touch. His tip leaked precum already, the head a deep red and cock achingly hard. He twitched in your hold, telling you he wanted, needed more.

“Why don’t you lean against the table?” You offered, sliding off and leaving the room for him to sit.

“Yeah, yeah okay,” he said, moving to take your spot. He leaned against the wood, his long legs stretching to the ground. You sunk to your knees in the dirt in front of him, stroking him as you stuck your tongue out to lick his tip. He groaned again, knuckles turning white where they gripped the edge of the table.

You wrapped your plush lips around his cock and began taking him deeper down your throat. He cried out at the feeling, one of his hands moving to hold onto the back of your head.

“Oh, shit,” he moaned, head tilting back but not wanting to miss any part of what you were doing. “Fuck. Yeah, that’s…that feels nice…”

You swirled your tongue around the vein on the underside of his cock, paying extra attention to the head when you’d come up. He was a moaning, writhing mess above you as he thrusted his hips into your mouth, and you were pretty sure they would hear him up at the school if he kept this up.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” he whined, his chest heaving. “Shit, that’s so good.”

You brought a hand up to stroke the seam of his balls, and his stomach muscles clenched, his cock twitching in your mouth. You massaged them in your hand, and Eddie fell apart above you, his eyes rolling back in his head.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna- gonna c-um, shit shit shit-“

That was all the warning you got before Eddie was shooting ropes of his cum into your mouth, down your throat, as he moaned loudly. It surprised you a little and you gagged at first, but swallowed every drop he gave you. You pulled off of him with a pop and he watched the spit trail connecting your lips to his cock.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed when you stood, dirt tracks on your neat white cheerleading socks and your bare knees. He awkwardly tucked himself back away as you brushed the dirt off your skin. “Um…thank you?”

You giggled. “No problem…Did you like it?”

“Did I-“ he huffed a laugh. “I mean, you made my dreams come true, baby. That was pretty fuckin’ awesome.”

“Yeah? Your dreams came true?” You teased as you leaned forward, rubbing his thighs over his jeans. His eyes shamelessly lingered on your body.

“Fuck yeah,” he breathed.

“I liked it, too,” you hummed. “Made me sooo wet.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide. “Just from sucking me off?”

“Yeah,” you giggled. “It was hot.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“What, wanna see?” Eddie just watched you so you stood, turning around and bending over while lifting your tiny skirt over your ass. The small wet spot on your panties was visible from behind you, confirmed by the low groan Eddie let out.

“Christ,” he muttered.

“I feel bad I didn’t get to make you feel good,” Eddie said when you stood and returned to the table, sliding onto it next to him.

“Next time,” you promised him.

“There’s gonna be a next time?” He raised his eyebrows, like he expected this to be a one and done thing between you.

“Well, yeah,” you gently nudged his shoulder. “I don’t really just suck dick in the forest and move on with my life.”

Eddie laughed lightly. “That’s good for me then, I guess.” He snapped his fingers as a memory came back to him. “Oh! You’re coming to my place tomorrow? For the K?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “Why, you got something planned?”

He smirked but just shrugged. “Nah. Nothing planned.”

“I’ll take the half, though.”

“Oh, yeah.” He reached into his pail and pulled the baggie out. “I’d feel bad charging you for this now, but I also feel bad not charging you for it.”

You laughed - “I mean, I won’t complain if you don’t want to charge me this time.”

“Then it’s on the house,” he smiled at you. “Thanks again, by the way.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” you chuckled. “I wanted to. Believe me.” You stood from the table, shoving the baggie of weed into your bag. “I’ve got to get going…practice.”

“Oh, yeah.” Eddie seemed bummed to see you go, like he wanted to ask you to stay longer or tag along to watch you at practice. “You got extra, uh…socks?”

You looked down, sheepish grin on your face at the sight of the dirt. “Yeah. I do.” You turned as you began walking back to the school. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Ed!”

“Bye!” He called after you, feeling like a total idiot.

Back in the school, you shed your bag in your practice locker and changed into a clean pair of cheer socks. By the time you joined Chrissy in the gym, she was giving you a knowing smirk.

“And where were you?” She asked innocently. She definitely clocked the remaining dirt on your knees.

“Just…doing some shopping.”

“With Eddie?”

You blushed. “Maybe.”

“Oh my god,” she giggled. “…Was he a virgin?”

You gave her a look. “Not for long.”

Chrissy practically squealed with laughter, falling over backwards. As the coach came over and started practice, you focused, getting your mind centered on practice and not a certain big-dicked virgin metalhead. But as you performed your tricks, tumbling down the mat and flying as your teammates tossed you into the air, your mind was locked on big brown eyes only.

The next day, you had plans to meet Eddie after practice and go to his place. You headed into the gym in your uniform with your bag over your shoulder, ready to focus on your stunts, but you nearly tripped over your own feet when you saw Eddie sitting in the bleachers.

No one watched cheerleading practice besides a couple of the girls’ boyfriends, so it was a shock to see him there. And you knew he was there for you. He gave you a small wave as your eyes met his, and you couldn’t help laughing.

You went on with practice, performing your back handsprings and tosses as a flyer. Eddie watched the entire time, his attention fully on you. His eyes followed you everywhere you went, amazed by the stunts you were able to pull off. Every now and then he caught the slightest glimpse of your panties beneath your skirt, and that was enough for him.

After practice, you lingered until all your teammates were gone. Eddie watched you curiously, wondering what you were up to. Finally when the last of your cheer teammates had left, you nodded towards the locker room, and Eddie’s eyes widened, but he jumped up to follow you anyway.

Eddie trailed after you into the locker room, watching the sway of your hips and ass as you walked. It was deserted, all of your fellow cheerleaders having already showered and left. You stripped out of your uniform right in front of Eddie, pulling your top off and leaving yourself bare chested. Eddie’s eyes practically bugged out of his head, your bare tits on full display for his eyes. You took off your skirt and panties next, throwing them on the bench.

“Let me go take a shower, then we can go.”

Eddie watched as you turned and left towards the shower. His gaze dropped to the pile of clothes on the bench - particularly the pink panties beneath your skirt. He thought about it - really thought about it, because he’s not that much of a creep - but he snatched them, stuffing them into his jeans pocket.

A few minutes later you came back wrapped in a towel with one wrapped around your hair as well. He watched you, amazed, as you grabbed some clean clothes from your locker. You dropped the towel right in front of him and his eyes took in every inch of your body as you pulled on your underwear then a pair of jeans and a shirt.

“Ready to go?” You asked. Eddie had to shake himself out of his lustful stupor to answer your question.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

You followed him out to the parking lot, duffel bag over your shoulder. He led you to his van, opening the passenger door with a bow. “Ladies first.”

You climbed in with a giggle, buckling your seatbelt as Eddie shut the door for you. He climbed into the driver’s seat and started the van. You watched out the window and listened to Eddie’s heavy music as he drove to his trailer in Forest Hills.

“Welcome to my castle,” he said as he opened the front door of the trailer for you. You gave him a smile as you walked in, seeing the living room decorated with baseball caps, the kitchen littered with trash and dirty dishes. “Sorry, the maid took the week off,” Eddie said as he quickly cleaned up as much as he could. You didn’t mind.

“You can come back, if you want,” he said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at the bedroom at the end of the hall. “It’s a mess, but…”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind,” you assured him.

You followed him into his room, taking a seat on his bed. He went searching through his stuff, finally surfacing with a baggie of powder clutched between his fingers. “Special K. Peaceful bliss, just moments away.”

You took it from him, passing him the money. You opened the baggie and collected some on your finger, bringing it to your nose to snort the powder. You held some out to Eddie, who snorted it off your finger as well.

A comfortable peace washed over your body quickly. You were feeling good as you laid back on the bed, the euphoria washing over you. Eddie laid on the bed next to you.

“This is some good shit,” you laughed. Eddie laughed, too, turning to you.

“You’re so hot, you know that?” He said, voice lowering as he looked over your body in his bed. “You are so fucking hot.”

You giggled. “You’re hot, too.”

“That’s not true,” he said, suddenly shy. “No one thinks that.”

“I do,” you said, your hand resting on the side of his face. “I think you’re so hot. And kind, and handsome, and funny and interesting.”

Eddie leaned closer to you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agreed, and he was so close now his nose was brushing yours.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he told you as his lips moved closer and closer to yours. “My little slut. You liked sucking my cock out in the woods behind the school, didn’t you?”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed against him, his lips now grazing yours, pressing together in a needy kiss. “Loved sucking your cock. So fucking big, so sexy.”

Eddie moaned as he kissed you, his hand roaming your body, up your shirt and over your breasts. “Can I taste you, princess?”

“Hmm?” You hummed the question, mind hazy from his kisses.

“Can I taste you?” He asked again, lips moving down to nip at your neck. “Wanna taste that pussy, princess. I know it’s so good, so fucking sweet and wet. Please let me have a taste.”

“Okay,” you agreed as his kisses trailed lower, his lips moving down over your breasts and stomach, to your thighs. He settled himself between your legs, kissing all over your thighs and over your core through your light purple panties. He could see the wet spot on them, it made his mouth water with his desire to taste you.

He slid your panties down your legs, your pussy finally revealed to him. It was everything he imagined, so fucking hot, and bare all for him. He dove in, tongue sliding through your folds to taste you. You moaned, hand gripping into his wild hair as he devoured you.

Eddie didn’t exactly know what he was doing, but he was eager and excited and that made it even better. He teased your clit with his tongue, wrapping his lips around it and sucking lightly. Then he moved lower, tongue teasing your hole as his nose brushed against your clit.

You moaned, hips bucking up against Eddie’s mouth. “Feels so good,” you moaned, hands trailing over your nipples as Eddie ate your pussy like a man starved.

He started grinding his hips against the bed as he ate you, searching for friction against his hard cock. He rutted frantically against the bed, tongue buried in you as his cock throbbed in his pants, moaning into you as he neared release himself. All from the thought of what he was doing to you, the reality of having his face buried in your cunt, his rock hard dick rubbing against the comforter.

“Eddie, I’m g’na cum,” you moaned desperately as Eddie worked his tongue over your core even more, fingers pulling at his brown locks.

“Cum for me baby, please,” he begged, fully losing himself between your legs, tongue working against your pussy somehow expertly as your release neared.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, Eddie! Oh god, Eddie!” You cried out as you came, hips bucking against his mouth as you rode out your orgasm on his tongue. He kept thrusting against the bed, but hearing you moan his name as you pulled his hair and grinded against his mouth set him off and then he was moaning, cumming in his jeans as you came down beneath his tongue.

He let you ride out your orgasm and then he pulled back, cheeks bright red and a wet spot on his jeans from where he came.

“Did you…?” You asked, looking down at his lap.

“Uh…yeah,” he said shyly, knowing there was no getting out of this with a lie.

You giggled, but there was no judgement behind it. “That’s pretty hot, honestly,”

“It is?” He asked, still blushing furiously. “I didn’t mean to, I just-“

“Couldn’t help yourself?” You trailed a finger down his shoulder, over his chest. He shuddered.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I just…can’t help myself when I’m around you.”

It was flattering. You loved that he was so weak for you. It made you feel powerful. “You’re so sexy, Eddie.”

He trembled beneath your touch.

That night, when Eddie was alone, he pulled your panties from his pocket. He wasn’t sure if you hadn’t noticed him take them, or if you just hadn’t cared. But he had them, and now he was bringing them up to his nose, breathing in your scent with a groan. He unbuttoned his pants and took his cock out, wrapping the panties around his shaft.

He thought of you. He thought about you wearing these panties during cheerleading practice, the way you’d do your jumps and spread your legs for anyone to see. The way you looked him in the eye just before you did your splits, like you wanted him watching specifically.

He began stroking his cock with the panties wrapped around his length, thinking of you. He thought about eating your pussy, the way you had come undone beneath his tongue. The way you had tasted.

He moaned your name, imagining you were in the room with him now. Imagining you were here riding his cock, tits bouncing as you bounced on him, taking every inch of his dick. Eddie stroked his cock faster, his release approaching faster and faster.

He came to the thought of his cock disappearing into your tight little pussy, the thought of finally fucking you. The way you’d be so desperate for it, legs spread wide as he sunk into your cunt, tits bouncing when he snapped his hips into you. It was enough to send ropes of cum shooting over his fist and all over the panties and his thighs and stomach.

Eddie was down bad for you.

It was a couple of days later when you approached Eddie at school again. His face lit up when he saw you, frantically making room at the lunch table and pushing Gareth out of the way.

“What the fuck?” Gareth asked as Eddie shoved him to the side, but his eyes went wide in understanding when he saw you approaching.

“Hey, Eds,” you greeted him, hand sliding around his shoulders in a way that gave him goosebumps. He looked up at you adoringly, big brown eyes full of something like love.

“Hey,” he greeted you back. “What’s up?”

You leaned over so you were closer to him, leaning over the table with your cleavage in your uniform top right in front of his face. “Do you have any shrooms?”

“S-shrooms?” Eddie asked like he’d never heard the word, too distracted by what was in front of him. “Oh, yeah. I do. At the house.”

“Could I ride with you after school to get them…?”

Eddie swallowed, completely lost in a trance, forgetting about his friends at the table watching this whole interaction. “Yeah. Of course.”

“Cool,” you smiled. “I’ll see you after school then?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Eddie’s gaze was locked on you as you walked away, that little cheer skirt so short he could just barely catch a glimpse of-

“Munson!”

Eddie snapped out of his you trance to rejoin reality and his friends trying to catch his attention. “What?”

“What the hell is that all about?” Gareth asked. “She’s been talking to you a lot lately.”

Eddie blushed, looking down at his tray of food. “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing? It doesn’t seem like nothing,” Jeff said. “Cheerleaders don’t just talk to us.”

“She just wants to buy some stuff. That’s all.”

The guys exchanged a look. “Soooo,” Gareth drew out the word, “are you gonna tell us who gave you all those hickies?”

Eddie froze, suddenly self conscious. He didn’t even realize they’d been noticeable. He pulled his leather jacket higher around his neck.

“Oh, come on, you can’t pretend we didn’t already see them,” Grant laughed. “Just tell us!”

Eddie looked around. “Okay, yes, it was her. But shut up! Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

The guys all buzzed with excitement, talking over each other as they leaned in closer to Eddie. “How the hell did that happen? What did you guys do? Tell us everything.”

Eddie shook his head. “Uh uh. No way. I’m not going to kiss and tell.”

“When I kissed Carla, you made me tell you everything!” Gareth protested. “Don’t be lame.”

“You kissed Carla Peters for 30 seconds in 7th grade,” Eddie reminded him. “I think we’re dealing with a difference in maturity level here.”

Gareth rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he muttered. “I would tell you if I lost my virginity. It’s a momentous occasion.”

“I didn’t lose my virginity,” Eddie whispered. “…Yet.”

After school, Eddie watched your cheer practice again. The other girls took notice this time, giving you strange looks. You heard them whispering - “What is that Freak doing here? What a creep.” You felt kind of bad for subjecting him to the gossip of your teammates, but they all shut up when you left with your arm linked in his.

He led you to his van, opening the door for you once again. This time on the ride to his house you chatted, giggling at the jokes Eddie would make. He tried to give you a crash course on D&D, but it was all going over your head.

At the house he held the door open for you, and you slipped inside, taking a seat on his couch. “Um…I know I have those shrooms somewhere…give me a sec.”

You looked all around the living room as Eddie took off to his bedroom, searching through drawers and cabinets. You examined the wall of hats, all the different places they came from and things they represented. By the time Eddie came back with the baggie in his hand, you had just looked at the last one.

“Got ‘em,” Eddie said, handing you the bag. You slipped it into your purse. “Uh…do you want to stay and hang out?”

“Of course,” you smiled at him, watching as he sat down on the couch. You slowly walked over next to him, his eyes on the way your legs moved beneath your skirt. He sure was weak for the uniform, you noticed.

You stood in front of him, looking down at his nervous form. He looked up at you with wide eyes, like he didn’t know what to do with his hands as you stood over him.

You trailed your hands down his arms, reaching his hands and placing them on your hips. He gulped, like he was in shock. But his grip tightened on your hips, feeling the material of your cheer skirt under his hands, wanting to push it up and-

You climbed onto his lap, straddling him. Eddie accidentally let out a low groan, betraying just how far gone he was for you already. You could feel how hard he was, the bulge through his jeans pressing up against your core. You wanted him, so wet your panties were soaked. You needed him.

“Eddie,” you whined, moving your hips against him. He groaned again, grip tightening even more.

“You look so fucking hot,” Eddie said through a clenched jaw, like he was trying to hold himself together. “You’re…a fucking dream, Jesus Christ-“

You leaned in to kiss at his neck, biting gently and making Eddie groan again. His hands were holding onto you as tight as possible, like he was afraid you’d disappear.

“You can touch me,” you said, wanting him to. You wanted to feel his hands all over, wanted to feel him. Every part of him.

He let go of his death grip on your hips and slowly roamed down your thighs as you continued kissing his neck, feeling the bare skin of your legs. He remembered what it was like to taste you, and the thought only made him harder in his jeans. He wanted to do it again and again.

Next his hands moved up, slowly feeling your sides until he reached your tits. They filled his hands perfectly, making him moan as he massaged them. He was desperate to get his mouth on them, to wrap his lips around your nipples, to suck on them.

He reached down and pulled your cheer top up until he was dropping it on his living room floor. He fumbled with your bra clasp for a while before he was able to remove that, too. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of your naked tits, mouth watering. He dove in, wrapping his lips around your nipple and making you gasp.

“Eddie,” you moaned, pleasantly surprised at his boldness. He was learning fast.

“So fucking sexy,” he moaned as his tongue swirled around your nipple, the sensation sending chills through your body. “Can’t believe you’re on my lap right now. Pretty little princess has a thing for the Freak, huh?”

You giggled lightly, eyes closed as you enjoyed the feeling of Eddie’s mouth. “When the Freak is this hot…”

Eddie chuckled. His hands gripped your ass as he switched to the other breast. He guided your hips to grind against him, as if it was possible for him to get any harder than he already was. He’d never been this hard in his life.

You tugged on his shirt and he got the hint, leaning forward to pull it off. Your hands roamed his tattooed chest, feeling the muscles of his chest, the soft skin of his stomach.

“Do you want to take me to your room?” you asked him, your voice a mere whisper against his lips.

“Oh fuck yeah,” Eddie said, then you were squealing as he stood, lifting you up. He stumbled a little and you laughed, but he made his way down the hall to his bedroom, leaving the discarded clothes on the living room floor.

He carefully dropped you down onto his messy bed, landing with a giggle. He kicked his shoes off and quickly undid his belt. You watched as he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, shoving them down his legs. You could really see the size of his erection with nothing but his boxers on, and it was just as impressive as you remembered.

Next he slid your shoes off, leaving the white cheer socks in place. He slowly climbed up your body, pulling your skirt and panties down your legs. With you now fully naked, he looked at you wide eyed. “God, I can’t believe I’m about to fuck you.”

“Can’t believe you’re about to fuck me, or can’t believe you’re about to lose your virginity?” you teased with a laugh.

“Both,” Eddie smiled. He placed kisses all over your skin, his tongue darting out to taste every now and then. You were like a drug - he was utterly addicted to you already.

“Do you have a condom?” you asked him as he reached your lips again, kissing along your jaw and cheek before pressing his lips to yours.

“Uh, I do, actually,” he said sheepishly. “Gareth bought them for me as a joke. Now I guess joke’s on him, because they’re getting used well before he gets to touch a girl.”

You laughed at that - “Well, works out for us, I guess.”

Eddie reached over into the drawer of his bedside table, pulling the unopened box out. He felt a sense of pride as he opened it, pulling out one of the foil packets. This was really happening. He had a pretty girl naked in his bed. Finally.

You pushed his boxers down as he ripped the condom wrapper open with his teeth, sliding the rubber onto his cock just like he’d learned in health class. He was grateful Gareth got the biggest size as part of the joke - but it fit perfectly. Ha.

Eddie leaned over you with one arm by your head and the other between your bodies, pumping his cock a couple times as he lined it up at your entrance. He took a deep breath he hoped you didn’t notice, then he started pushing inside. You gasped at the intrusion, fingers gripping his bedsheets.

“Jesus, Ed,” you breathed, his cock nearly taking your breath away already.

“What?” he asked, stopping his movements. “Are you okay? Am I doing something wrong?”

“No, no,” you assured him. “You’re just fucking huge. But keep going, please.”

His ego properly stroked, he began sinking further into you. He was barely holding it together, a whimper involuntarily escaping from his lips. You were so unbelievably tight, hot, and wet…it felt better than his fist had on his best nights, and watching your face contorting in pleasure every inch he sunk into you was unreal. He had to shut his eyes to keep from cumming right that second.

He bottomed out, and you had never felt so full in your life. None of the guys you’d been with had been this big. Eddie reached down and spread your legs wide, holding them open as he pulled his hips back and snapped them back into you. He fucked into you quickly, filling you completely with every thrust.

“God, you- you’re so flexible, fuck-“

His pleasure-drunk rambling would have made you laugh if he wasn’t currently splitting you wide open with his cock, and looking unbelievably sexy while doing it. He threw his head back, long hair flying backwards. You raked your nails down his chest, making him moan loudly.

“Feels so good, Eddie, fuck, even better than my dreams-“

“You dream about me?” Eddie huffed a breathless laugh. “Fuck, princess, I dream about you too.”

You smiled and opened your mouth to speak just before a particularly hard thrust hit your bundle of nerves perfectly, making your back arch off his bed and the words on your tongue turn into a loud, high moan.

Fuck, the noises you were making were better than any porn he’d ever seen. He didn’t know how he was still going, he’d felt right on the edge since he got inside of you.

“Your pussy is fucking incredible, holy shit-“

Eddie’s hips stuttered into you, his rhythm faltering. He adjusted you into a mating press, fucking you wildly as the most pathetic yet sexy moans left his lips.

“Jesus Christ, Eddie,” you moaned, gripping onto his arms tightly. They were firmer and bigger than you expected, and you could feel his muscles contracting as he put all his effort into fucking you.

“I’m getting real close, baby,” he said, his voice strained. His arms were starting to tremble, his thrusts more frantic and needy. “But I need you to come first.”

You reached down between your sweaty bodies and rubbed circles on your clit, your body writhing beneath him. Eddie let out another pathetic moan at the sight, his rhythm faltering once again, his thrusts getting harder yet slower, hips snapping into you aggressively.

“Ohmygod, Eddie, Eddie, fuck! Yes yes yes, keep fucking me just like that-“

Your orgasm washed over you in a wave, hips grinding up against Eddie’s thrusts as you continued rubbing your clit. Your other hand pinched at your nipples, and the show sent Eddie reeling.

“I’m cumming, oh fuck, I’m…I-I love you! Shit-” Eddie cried out as he came, his eyes squeezing shut as his cum shot into you, filling you up with his spend. He held onto you tightly as he came, it felt endless, like he could cum forever. His body was trembling, hands shaking from their grip on your legs.

Your mouth dropped open in shock at his words, but Eddie didn’t process it until he came down from his high, breathing heavily on top of you.

“Oh, shit-“ Eddie said, sitting up and looking at you with a horrified expression. “I did not mean to say that, I don’t-“

You just stared at him, and then you burst out laughing. Eddie blushed a deep red as you laughed, but eventually he joined in. The two of you giggled together, you leaning your head on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, Eds. I’m not upset.” You held his hand, intertwining your fingers. “It’s a little early for that, but I like the sentiment.”

Eddie laughed. “I don’t know why I said that. It just came out.”

“The sex was that good?” you teased.

“Oh yeah.”

The next day at school, you stuck close by Eddie. You had decided to try dating, and you were unbelievably happy. You walked hand in hand, drawing the attention of absolutely every Hawkins High student. Chrissy’s jaw dropped when she saw the two of you, but then she gave you a bright smile - you knew she’d be in your corner no matter what.

You couldn’t keep your hands off each other. You had never felt so obsessed with a guy before, but you were head over heels for Eddie, and you didn’t care who knew or what anyone thought.

At lunch, you got your food and headed for the Hellfire table. You took a seat right next to Eddie, sharing the end of the table. Eddie beamed, putting his arm around you and pulling you into a kiss that was far too heated for the school cafeteria. His tongue slipped into your mouth, pressing against yours as he kissed you passionately.

The guys stared. Gareth looked at the others - “What the fuck?” he mouthed. Jeff just looked at him wide eyed, while Grant looked impressed. Mike and Dustin looked at each other, shocked.

When you finally pulled apart, you realized you had an audience. “Hi! I’m so sorry.”

Eddie didn’t look sorry at all. He looked happier than the guys had ever seen him. “Guys, this is my girlfriend,” he said with pride, introducing you by name.

The guys thought this had to be a joke. There’s no way you and Eddie had really hooked up, and there was no way you were together now. It made no sense. Yet here you were, all over each other like no one was watching.

You and Eddie shared your lunches with each other as you ate, the sickeningly sweet display holding the attention of every guy at the table.

No one said anything for a while, and you and Eddie were so caught up in your own little world, neither of you noticed. Finally, you got up to go get some napkins, and Gareth took his chance. He cleared his throat, and Eddie looked over at his best friend with a confused expression.

“Care to explain?” Gareth asked, the rest of the table watching on with interest.

“Explain what…?” Eddie asked, genuinely lost.

Gareth did a dramatic gesture towards you. “That.”

“What’s there to explain?” Eddie played with a piece of his food before popping it into his mouth. “She’s my girlfriend.”

“Since when?” Gareth asked. “What the fuck has been going on?”

Eddie looked at your figure from across the cafeteria before turning back to his friends. “Since last night. She came over and we…had a nice night, and I asked her to be my girlfriend.”

“Did you lose your virginity?” Grant asked, the only one of the group who seemed excited for his friend.

Eddie glanced at Mike and Dustin, who were lost in their own conversation now. He nodded, and Grant held out a hand for a high five, which Eddie sheepishly accepted.

“Did she buy from you?” Gareth asked.

“Yeah…why?”

Gareth looked around again before he spoke. “I just…you don’t think she’s only messing around with you for the drugs, right? Cheerleaders don’t talk to us, they definitely don’t sleep with us.”

His words set a fire in Eddie, making him absolutely furious. “What did you just say about her?”

Gareth had never seen Eddie so angry, like flames flickering behind his deep brown eyes. ”Nothing, man. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

You came back to the table then, all smiles and totally oblivious to the tension at the table. “I got you some too, baby,” you said softly to Eddie, handing him a couple of napkins. Eddie gave Gareth another harsh look, but moved on.

When you’d finished eating, Eddie kissed you again, before leaning his forehead against yours. “Wanna get out of here, baby?”

You giggled. “Where to?”

“My van?” he proposed, voice low and seductive yet still fully audible to the rest of the table. Gareth pretended to gag.

“Sounds good,” you agreed with a mischievous smile, standing along with Eddie. He grabbed your hand as the two of you rushed from the building, leaving Eddie’s friends dumbfounded. Chrissy gave you a smile as you left, but her boyfriend, Jason, scowled and whispered something to his friends.

In the parking lot, Eddie opened his van, letting you climb inside before he joined you. In the back you immediately met in a heated kiss, pulling at each other’s clothes and touching each other everywhere.

You pushed Eddie’s jacket off before tugging at his shirt, smirking when he quickly pulled it over his head. He pulled your panties off, leaving your cheer skirt on. He quickly undid his belt and jeans and pushed them down just enough to free his cock.

“Turn over for me, baby,” he said, pumping his cock in his fist. “Want that cute little ass in the air, ready for me.”

You did as Eddie said, moving onto your hands and knees before lowering your upper half to the floor of the van. Eddie groaned at the sight, hands rubbing over the skin of your ass beneath your skirt. He hiked the skirt up around your hips, leaving you exposed to him.

“Do you have a condom?” you asked him.

Eddie froze. “Shit. No, I didn’t bring one.”

You thought for a moment. “It’s okay. I want you anyway.”

Eddie’s grip on your hips tightened. “Are you sure, princess?”

“Yes,” you said, your voice assured. “I want it, Eds. I don’t care if you don’t have one, I need you in me.”

Eddie groaned, pressing his hard cock against you. He thrusted his hips lightly, grinding himself against your ass. “God, you’re going to be the death of me, princess. You’re fucking unreal.”

You felt him press against your pussy, sliding between your folds and collecting your wetness on his cock. The feeling was like heaven for him, the memories of being inside you came rushing back, making his dick throb. He had to have you again. And this time he’d get to feel you raw? The thought alone had his knees weak.

He pushed the head of his cock inside you, the stretch already too good. You both moaned as he filled you, inch by thick inch. When he bottomed out he wasted no time thrusting into you again and again, a quick pace rocking the van right there in the school parking lot for anyone who came outside to see.

The old van squeaked as it rocked back and forth with the power of Eddie’s frantic thrusting, the windows fogged up from the heat you two created together. He used his grip on your hips to pull your body back into him every time he thrusted into you, making them all the more intense.

He reached forward and pulled on your ponytail, jerking your head back and making you moan. “Eddie!”

“Oh fuck, you like that, baby? You want me to be a little rough?”

“Yes, fuck,” you moaned, eyes fluttering shut as he thoroughly pounded you from the back. When he suddenly pulled out you whimpered at the loss, but he quickly flipped you over.

Eddie sat up on his knees, throwing his shirt off before he pulled the handcuffs off his belt. Your eyes widened as he looped them through the bottom of the driver’s seat and attached them to your wrists, pinning them above your head.

The way your body stretched with your arms up like that was a sight to behold. It put your tits on full display, his hands grabbing for them the second he started fucking into you again. The angle he had your hips with him up on his knees was intoxicating, his cock hitting your bundle of nerves with every thrust.

“Please, Eddie, harder,” you begged, your voice a whiney moan. Eddie obliged immediately, the slapping noise of your skin meeting filling the space.

“Fuck, look so pretty like this, princess,” he huffed, out of breath from his vigorous movements and the heat you were creating in the stuffy van. “Never thought you’d be tied up in the back of the freak’s van, taking his cock and begging for more, huh?”

No, you didn’t. You were just as surprised as anyone at your current situation.

“You’re so good, too,” Eddie moaned. “Your pussy is so perfect. Fits my cock just right. I’m so deep in you, baby, fuck!”

Eddie was struggling to hold it together, the feeling of you wrapped around him without the barrier of the condom was almost too much to bear. He spread your legs wide and leaned over you, burying his face in your neck.

He whimpered into your neck as he fucked you, his shallow thrusts quick and desperate. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly to his sweaty body. You wrapped your legs around his waist, holding him even closer. It was so intimate, and Eddie was losing it.

He cried out as his orgasm hit him unexpectedly, hips rutting against you as he pumped all his cum inside, balls tightening, giving you everything he had. He moaned your name again and again, shuddering on top of you.

As he came down and pulled out of you, freeing you from the handcuffs, he realized you didn’t get to finish. “Oh, shit, baby. I’m so sorry. Let me make it up to you-“

“Eddie, it’s really okay,” you giggled, not upset at all. “I still enjoyed myself. I don’t have to- oh!”

Eddie cut you off by diving between your legs, his tongue licking between your folds. He could taste himself where his cum leaked out of you, but he didn’t mind. You had never experienced anything like this before.

You moaned, writhing beneath his tongue, pulling on his long, soft hair. He devoured you, tongue moving up to flick over your clit before wrapping his lips around it and sucking. His tongue was so long and so talented, he’d never done anything with a girl before you and you knew this, but you would never have guessed by the way he ate pussy.

Eddie moaned against you, slipping two of his fingers inside as his mouth focused on your clit. He pumped them in and out of you much like he’d fucked you, and it wasn’t long before you were clenching around his fingers, moaning little “Eddie! Eddie! Eddie!”s as you got closer and closer.

You came on his tongue, pulling hard on his curls and nearly screaming his name. If anyone was out in the parking lot, they’d know exactly what you were doing and who was doing it to you.

Eddie kept his movements up until you were pushing him away, overstimulated. He moved back up your body and kissed you hard, both of you smiling against each others’ lips.

Eddie tucked his spent cock away back in his jeans and collapsed against the wall of the van, still shirtless. You pulled your panties back on, straightening your uniform. “Do you wanna smoke?”

“Sure,” Eddie agreed easily, reaching into the front and pulling out an already rolled joint. He sparked it up with his lighter and took a drag, passing it to you.

As you smoked together, laughing and talking, Eddie felt like he was completely in love. But in the back of his head, Gareth’s words stuck with him, nagging. He didn’t really think you were only with him for the drugs, he was pretty sure you felt the same way about him as he did about you. Yet something about it wouldn’t leave him alone.

After practice and dressed comfortably in a t-shirt and soft short shorts, you walked to Eddie’s van with his arm around you. Your teammates gave you strange looks, but you didn’t care. You were happy.

“Hey!” You heard Chrissy’s voice calling your name as you were just leaving the building. You and Eddie both turned.

“Hey,” you greeted her with a smile. “What’s up?”

Chrissy looked awkward, uncomfortable. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Sure.” You looked up at Eddie and he smiled at you, bending down and placing a kiss to your lips. “Be right back.”

You followed Chrissy back into the locker room, which was deserted. Chrissy sighed, pacing back and forth.

“What’s up, Chris?” you asked, worried.

“It’s just…” She fiddled with her fingers. her nerves obvious. Like she was doing something she didn’t want to be doing. “Jason doesn’t like that you’re seeing Eddie.”

You blinked at her. Then, a laugh. “Chris, I love you to death, but I don’t really give a fuck what your boyfriend thinks.”

She winced, like she knew that was exactly what you were going to say. “Yeah, but…” She sighed again. “Jason thinks that it ruins the image of the cheer team. He thinks as long as you’re dating Eddie, you shouldn’t cheer. And he got the coach to agree.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Your heart beat loud in your ears, your hands starting to shake. “What?”

Chrissy looked pained. “I know. I tried to talk to him-“

“Why does Jason Carver have any say over who’s on the cheerleading team?” you asked, getting worked up. “This is bullshit. I’m team captain! And what’s wrong with Eddie? Besides that he’s a little different?” You scoffed. “You guys are so close minded it’s sickening.”

Chrissy looked as if you’d struck her. “It’s not me, I promise. I tried. But everyone else agreed.”

You felt sick to your stomach. You hadn’t felt as happy as you do with Eddie in…well, ever. You couldn’t choose between two things you loved.

Loved?

“I’ve got to go,” you said, shaking your head. “Maybe try to talk to your boyfriend again. Because mine hasn’t done anything wrong.”

You turned and left, catching up with Eddie. He wrapped his arm around you again with a smile, but he could tell something was wrong. “What happened, baby?”

“Nothing,” you said. You didn’t want to talk about it or make Eddie feel bad. And you were sure it wouldn’t really happen - right?

At Eddie’s trailer, it looked like he had cleaned up for you. He seemed nervous, even as you fell to the couch with lips locked together in a passionate make out session. His hand was under your shirt, grasping at your tits.

“Need you again,” he mumbled hurriedly as he pulled your shirt over your head. “Need to be inside you.”

“You sure no one will be home?” you asked, giggling as he leaned forward and kissed at your tits.

“Yeah. My uncle’s at work, we’re fine.”

He pulled your shorts and panties down before shoving his own jeans and boxers down. He spread your legs wide, neither of you caring about a condom this time. He sunk into you, snapping his hips into you wildly. He was desperate for you, no matter how many times he had you.

He groaned loudly, face in your neck again while he pounded into you. Your nails scratched down his shoulders, eyes rolling back at the bliss he was providing with nothing but his cock.

You were so caught up in each other that neither of you heard the key in the front door, or the door opening. However you did hear the shocked gasp that had Eddie pulling out of you in a hurry, covering your body with a throw pillow and yanking his jeans up.

“Jesus, Ed!” the older man exclaimed, covering his eyes. “On the couch??”

“Sorry, shit, sorry! What are you doing here?” Eddie buckled his jeans back up as you hurriedly redressed yourself. “I thought you’d be gone all night!”

“Forgot my lunch,” the man said, his voice gruff. “‘n just because I work nights doesn’t mean you can…do that in the living room, for god’s sake, Ed.”

“Sorry,” Eddie said again, his cheeks bright red. “You can uncover your eyes, we’re okay.”

The man cautiously lowered his hand, looking at the two of you. “I didn’t even know you had a girlfriend.”

Eddie chuckled. “It’s new. Baby, this is my Uncle Wayne. Wayne, this is my girlfriend.” He introduced you by name, and Wayne gave you a friendly smile.

“Well, strange way to meet one another, but glad to meet you,” Wayne said.

“You too,” was all you could offer.

When Wayne grabbed his lunch and left again, you slapped Eddie on the arm. “You said you knew we’d be alone!”

Eddie laughed, dodging you. “How was I supposed to know he’d forget his lunch and come back?”

You supposed he had a point. You couldn’t stay mad at him - not that you really were to begin with. You cared deeply about Eddie, and you wanted to be with him. You just hoped that wouldn’t keep you from being on the cheer team.

part 2?

[ari-ana-bel-la]

OMG you're writing is actually so good, you're fics are the absolute. cutest

Could I please request more protective dad charles, maybe with teen daughter reader who is growing more independent and Charles is both proud and sad that his little girl is growing up and wants to spend even more time with her. I feel like clingy and protective dad charles would be cute but funny as the same time

His strong, independent girl

The first time Charles held Yn in his arms, he knew—without question—that nothing in the world would ever matter more to him than his daughter. Not his career, not the roar of the engines, not even the red car he had once thought was the love of his life. Yn was his heart walking outside his body, and from the moment she came into the world, she held that heart in the palm of her tiny hand.

It hadn’t changed over the years. Not when she took her first steps, not when she lost her first tooth, and certainly not now that she was eighteen and full of bright-eyed independence. If anything, Charles only loved her more fiercely. But with that love came a deep, gnawing ache—an ache he felt every time she left the apartment with her friends, laughing as she tossed a quick “Bye, Papa!” over her shoulder. She was growing up, slipping through his fingers faster than he could hold on. And while he was so proud of her, the thought of his little girl no longer needing him twisted something tight in his chest.

So when Yn asked him to teach her how to drive, Charles didn’t hesitate. If this was how he could hold onto her a little longer—by guiding her hands on the wheel, by being the one she turned to when she wanted to learn—then he would gladly give her everything he knew.

And if he happened to use his favorite car for the lesson? Well, she deserved nothing but the best.

---

"Are you serious?" Yn’s voice was filled with disbelief as she stood in front of the sleek Ferrari Pista Spider, its back paint gleaming under the warm afternoon sun. "You're letting me drive this?"

Charles leaned casually against the hood, arms crossed as he grinned at her. "What? You didn’t think I was going to teach you in some boring car, did you?"

Her green eyes widened as she shook her head. "I thought you’d make me learn in the Volvo or something!"

He laughed softly, pushing off the car to open the driver’s side door. "Please, ma chérie, you’re my daughter. You should learn how to drive properly. And that means driving the best."

Yn rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed how excited she was. "I’m not going to crash it, I promise."

"I know you won’t." He said it with such quiet confidence that it warmed her heart. No matter how much of a perfectionist he could be with himself, when it came to her, he always believed she could do anything. "Come on, get in."

She slid into the driver’s seat, her hands gripping the leather steering wheel as Charles moved around to the passenger side. When he sat down, the familiar scent of his cologne and the faint aroma of the car’s interior wrapped around her.

"Alright," he said, his tone soft and patient, "first things first—adjust your seat. You need to be close enough to the pedals but not too close that you feel cramped."

Yn wriggled forward slightly, testing the pedals under her sneakers. "Like this?"

"Perfect," he praised, reaching over to tap the steering wheel. "And your hands—ten and two. Seatbelt. Always. This isn’t a video game."

She laughed under her breath but did as he instructed. "Okay. What next?"

Charles leaned back in his seat, watching her with a mixture of pride and something softer—something that made his heart ache. "Put your foot on the brake. Then press the ignition."

Yn followed his instructions, but as soon as she pressed the button, the engine let out a sharp, sputtering noise before falling silent. She froze, a flash of panic crossing her face.

"I broke it," she blurted.

Charles chuckled, the sound warm and reassuring. "You didn’t break anything, ma chérie. It’s fine." He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Take a breath. Try again."

She did, exhaling slowly before pressing the button once more. This time, the engine purred to life beneath them, smooth and powerful. Yn’s face lit up with excitement.

"There you go," Charles murmured, his voice filled with quiet pride. "See? You’ve got this."

And from there, he guided her through the basics with endless patience. Steering, braking, accelerating—every movement was accompanied by his calm instructions, his voice as steady as if they were simply sitting at the kitchen table rather than in a car worth more than most people’s houses.

When she pressed the accelerator too gently and the car barely rolled forward, he bit back a smile. When she jerked a little too hard while turning, he only said, "You’re doing great—just ease into it."

And when Yn got a little too confident and sped up along the empty road, Charles didn’t scold her. No—he laughed softly to himself, thinking that it wasn’t her fault everyone else drove too slowly.

---

After an hour, Yn had the hang of it. Her hands moved smoothly on the wheel, and her confidence grew with every turn. Charles couldn’t stop watching her, pride swelling in his chest at how quickly she was picking everything up. But beneath that pride was a pang of something bittersweet—because every mile she drove was another step toward a world where she didn’t need him to guide her anymore.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, Charles finally directed her back toward their apartment. When she eased the car perfectly into a parking spot, he let out a long breath and smiled.

"You did it," he said, his voice soft with wonder. "You’re a natural, Yn."

She turned to him, her smile radiant. "I had the best teacher."

He laughed, but when he looked at her—really looked at her—he felt a lump form in his throat. When had she grown up like this? When had his little girl become this smart, capable young woman who didn’t need her father to hold her hand at every step?

Before he could sink too deeply into those thoughts, Yn threw open her door and rushed around to his side. Without warning, she flung her arms around him, holding him tight.

"Thank you," she whispered against his chest. "For everything, Papa."

Charles’ breath caught, and he held her just as tightly, his arms wrapping around her as if he could shield her from the entire world. His hand cradled the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Je t’aime, ma chérie," he murmured. "More than anything."

---

Later that night, when they returned to the apartment, Alexandra was sitting on the couch, flipping through a magazine. She glanced up as they walked in, raising an eyebrow at the wide smile on Charles’ face.

"So," she drawled, "how did it go? Is our car still in one piece?"

Charles scoffed, dropping onto the couch beside her. "Our car? Please. That car is practically Yn’s now. And she’s a genius. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone learn that fast."

Yn, who was grabbing a bottle of water from the kitchen, laughed softly. "You’re exaggerating, Papa."

"I’m not!" Charles insisted, turning to Alexandra with an earnest expression. "She’s incredible. So smooth on the wheel, completely calm—"

"You’re ridiculous," Alexandra teased, though her smile softened as she watched the way Charles practically glowed with pride.

"I’m right," he shot back. Then, his expression softened as he glanced toward the kitchen where Yn stood. "She’s amazing," he repeated quietly. "And I’m so proud of her."

And in that moment, Charles knew—no matter how fast time moved, no matter how independent Yn became—he would always be her biggest supporter. Because she wasn’t just his daughter.

She was his heart.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed this story. My requests are always open for you.

-💙🦋

[citricacidprince]

I was looking at your relativity falls au and I was thinking since Ford in the original series takes off Stan’s hat to show his hair, kinda revealing he is Ford, what if in relativity falls Ford takes the glasses off of Stan and puts them on and that is kinda of the moment

Also I really want more protective! Relativity falls Ford, I want to watch that child go feral and start biting people <3

Hiiiii!!! Sorry it took a super long time to reply to this I just,, this possessed me so much I may or may not have written, uh, 7400 words based on this lol (also a drawing but it’s hidden in the writing haha)

There sadly isn’t a lot of feral protective Ford in this, just sad wet cat baby Ford (tho you get a glimpse of it at the very end), but believe me I have many thoughts of protective Ford as they’re teens hehe!!

Like, they’re so fun to be because they’re the opposite of how they are in the show! Stan was the protector and would get into fights for Ford, but as teens Ford is extremely protective of Stan and will throw himself into a fight he know he can’t win in a moments notice because they insulted Stan, even when Stan tries to insist that it’s okay. These two make me siiiiick 💥💥💥💥💥

Anywho, this mini writing this is just a prolonged scene from Weirdmageddon part 3 but with my Relativity Falls AU paint on it lol

It’s filled with an comical amount of tears because I believe Mabel and Dipper are weepy saps and the baby boys haven’t had the ‘Boys don’t cry’ motto drilled into their heads yet, also they’re like, super traumatized atm haha

Well, have fun reading! Please please please please be nice, I know I’m not the best writer and just write when I’m possessed so please be so niceies to me or I’ll fucking cry <33💥💥💥💥

Everything is under the cut! :]

🍃🪦☁️~~~~~~~~~~~~⛈️👓🥀

Mabel and Dipper could only watch on in shock and horror as one of their beloved great nephew erased the mind of their other beloved great nephew. Dipper didn’t even know the boys still had that blasted machine, much less that they still had it on them here of all places!

Maybe it was good that the children had the memory gun hidden away. After all, they just used it to outwit and defeat Cipher.

However… at what cost?

Stanley’s round face was drenched in silent tears as he held the memory gun to the back of his brother’s head, his gaze completely focused but his trembling grip on the memory gun giving away just how much this was affecting him.

Dipper always thought he’d be ecstatic when Bill Cipher was finally defeated. Spit on his face, dance on his grave, give the worst eulogy in the world, the whole shebang. But now that the moment has finally arrived all he can feel is sick to his stomach.

They’re just kids. They shouldn’t be here. His sweet little grand-nephews shouldn’t be paying for his hubris. This should’ve stayed between him and Bill.

It should have been him.

The bright blue light faded and the memory gun hit the ground, Stanley’s hands shaking even worse now as tears fell to the floor, unable to keep his head up as little hiccups fell from his lips.

Dipper was still squeezing Mabel close to his side, the two frozen in their huddled positions on the floor, gut-wrenching guilt on his face while his sister had her hands over his mouth, only able to watch on with dread.

Dipper only faintly registered that the other members of the zodiac had been released from their tapestry prisons. That blonde woman Mabel seemed to like was rubbing her head as that young Hispanic woman who works for Mabel, Anjelita, held out a hand to help her up. That red-headed hairy lumberjack and that one oddly peppy goth teen helped young Fiddleford through his shaky breathing.

After a couple of moments Dipper heard his sister take a deep shaky breath, his voice wet as one of her hands reached out towards Stanley.

“…L-Lee? Lee, baby come here-” There was a weary and wobbly smile on her lips. She was doing that thing where she tries to be the comforting light in an awful situation, even though she is not doing any better than anyone else at the moment.

She was trying to corral her crying great-nephew into her arms, a mixture of trying to comfort him and herself.

She was swiftly cut off by gravity going wonky.

Dark bricks ripped out of the walls and shot up into the rift up in the blood red sky, Weirdmaggedon falling apart at the seams. Creatures of many shapes and sizes flew up into the rift, the older twins gripping each other close as they stared up into the multicolored light. Everyone was staring up into the sky, hope and relief in their hearts that the nightmare might finally be over.

Everyone but Stanley.

He was intensely staring at the back of his brother’s head, silent tears continuously streaming down his cheeks, unable to see the small content smile on Stanford’s face.

As the light began to envelop the town of Gravity Falls, Stanley reached out his hand to his kneeling brother to try and grab onto him but was unable to before the light reached the two, erasing most traces of Weirdmaggedon’s effects and safely displacing everyone in the Fearamid to the ground below.

The woods were quiet. Everything was much quieter than it was during Weirdmageddon.

There was barely a moment of peace before Dipper and Mabel were sprinting through the woods yelling out for their great-nephews, panic increasing with every passing second.

They finally came across the boys in a small clearing after 2 minutes of franticness. Stanley’s back to the older set of twins and Stanford kneeling in the grass.

Mabel ran much faster than Dipper did, practically throwing herself to her knees as she grabbed Stanley and pulled him tight into her arms. She buried him into the crook of her neck, tears beginning to drip down her face as she ran her fingers through his messy brown curls, trying to soothe him while she gently shushed his crying.

“Shhhh… shhh it’s okay Lee it’s okay sweepea, I’m here, Grunkle Mabel is here pumpkin.”

Dipper would’ve chuckled at the use of ‘Grunkle Mabel’, something Stanley insisted on calling her even after she revealed that she wasn’t a man because he thought Grauntie sounded strange, but he couldn’t really feel anything but heart ache right now. He stepped closer to the crying duo, kneeling down next to them as he glanced over towards Stanford.

He still seemed to be unconscious, quiet as a mouse as he kneeled on the grass. He was so still that Dipper almost wanted to check his pulse to make sure his heart was still beating, but the soft breathing coming from his chest eased his worries. Stanford was always so stressed and on edge the entire time Dipper had known him, which in all honesty, wasn't very long. However, in this moment with that small smile on his lips his nephew almost looked peaceful.

Guilt ate at his heart even more.

God he should’ve seen the warning signs that tension was building between the two boys. He’s the catalyst for causing Weirdmageddon by saying he would train Stanford in Gravity Falls while Stanley went home. He should’ve put his foot down and said Stanford was too young and needed to go home at the end of the summer with his brother. But his great nephew was just so insistent and Dipper himself was scrambling to think of an amazing gift for his twin sister for their first birthday together in 30 years, he just caved and said yes.

He’s the reason Stanley ran with that cracked rift. He was the final crack in the already strained relationship between the boys and he was too blind to notice.

He turned to his sister once more, emotions welling in his heart seeing his sister and nephew so upset and clinging to each other. He gingerly rubbed Stanley’s back and Mabel’s shoulder, softly speaking with sorrow dripping from his voice, “Stanley, I am so sorry… words can’t express how much I didn’t want this to happen. You shouldn’t have had to deal with the consequences of my mistakes..” He gingerly tucked a loose curl behind Stanley’s ear, softly adding on with a feeling of shame flooding his head, “…It should’ve been me.”

Mabel’s head immediately shot up at Dipper’s words, a glare on her wet face as she shot back with a low warning tone, “Dipper Lee Pines.” He quickly shut his mouth. Noted, she wasn’t going to take any self depreciation coming from him at the moment. Can’t say he blames her, he would’ve done the same if any self-depreciating words came from her mouth.

Stanley muffled something against Mabel’s neck instantly making the two stop what they were doing to turn to him. “What was that baby?” Mabel gently asked as Dipper continued to rub his back. The young boy pulled himself away from Mabel’s neck ever so slightly, taking in a deep shaky breath as he shakily repeated himself.

“…n-not Lee-”

The older twins' brows furrow, their hands stilling slightly as it was Dipper’s turn to softly question, “What are you talking about Stanley?”

The brunet pulls his trembling form away from Mabel to stand up, wiping his wet face with his arm, his cheeks so flushed from sobbing that his faint freckles were easily seen against the red. He stood still for a moment, trying to calm his breathing before he stepped between the sitting pair of twins and towards his kneeling brother.

He took in the sight of him for a moment, a sick feeling in his stomach as his trembling hands tentatively grab onto the glasses on his unconscious brother’s face, his touch light as a feather and careful, as if he was afraid his brother would shatter if his finger even as so much grazed him. He carefully pulled the glasses off and stared down at them in his hands, a fresh wave of silent tears falling from his cheeks and onto the cracked glass lenses.

“I-I’m… I’m n-not…” He shakily whispers, voice caught in his throat as he tries to get the words out. He gingerly lifted the glasses to his face and placed them onto his red nose, his fingers gripping the temples of the glasses as he hesitantly turned around. His wet brown eyes locked with his kneeling great-uncle and great-aunt, the kid’s gaze drowning in guilt as Stanford hesitantly continued on with his wobbling voice, “…I-I’m not S-Stanley.”

The two froze at those words, Mabel's bewildered gaze kept whipping her gaze between Stanford and Stanley, quickly growing distressed while Dipper felt a deep pit form in his stomach.

He’s so stupid, it should’ve been obvious but in all the chaos he didn’t even think to check. In the moment of peace he finally saw the differences.

The six fingers and the way his eyes squinted without his glasses should’ve been a dead giveaway, but there were also other signs as well.

Stanley had told Dipper not too long ago that his tooth was knocked out the second day the twins showed up. Apparently it was knocked loose when he fell face first into the dirt while fleeing with Stanford from a vampire, after his brother had hid the 3rd journal away from Stanley all day, taking ‘Trust No One’ Dipper had scrambled onto that in a paranoid panic to heart.

Stanford just lost his tooth not even 30 minutes ago. When the boys had begun to argue on the Zodiac Wheel Stanley couldn’t take it anymore and decked Stanford to the ground. Dipper remembers the immediate regret that flashed onto the young boy’s face when his brother spat out a bloody tooth onto the floor, opening his mouth to try and apologize but was unable to get a word out before Stanford quickly punched him back, causing the infamous fight between the two.

Stanford still had some speckles of dried blood on his chin, a reminder of that awful fight.

The two had faint freckles dusting their face but Stanley was the only one who had freckles on his shoulders.

The bandaid on Stanford’s face was falling off, as if it was peeled off and slapped onto his face.

Mabel let out a weak and breathless noise of confusion, brows furrowed and clearly overwhelmed by everything happening in such a short time. “W-Wha-? How-?”

Dipper cut his sister off. She was barely keeping it together as is, and while he was also extremely upset he had a lot of practice suppressing these kinds of emotions to survive in the multiverse. He can take over for a moment just so Mabel can take a moment to breathe.

“Stanford… what happened?” Dipper questioned, a comforting hand on his twin’s shoulder as his furrowed gaze met Stanley’s. Despite how intense he looked, there was a softness in his voice. A quiet plea for his great-nephew to tell him what the hell is going on.

Stanford’s watery eyes stayed locked with the ground, looking almost as overwhelmed and weary as Mabel did while his hands fidgeted against his stomach. “W-When you two started getting c-chased Bill I…” His breathing hitched. “…I didn’t know what to d-do, I was just so s-scared.”

One of his finger’s lifted to his lip as he unconsciously began to chew the skin off the side of it, a habit Mabel has been fighting tooth and nail for Ford to quit through the entire Summer.

Not that she can really bring herself to care at the moment.

Stanford looked increasingly distressed as he continued. “I-I was panicking, I always know w-what to do and I just I couldn’t t-think of anything! I thought my h-head was going to explode when-” He takes in a sharp breath, more tears beginning to well up in his eyes. “…w-when Stanley said he had a plan.”

Stanford was trying to wipe away the thick tears off his face, his cheeks irritated and red from how often he's been rubbing away tears. “E-Everything went so fast. He was explaining the p-plan as fast as he could while we swapped clothes. Said we were going to p-pull off our best con yet. Tricking Bill into S-Stan’s mind by convincing him it was m-mine and then erasing him for g-good.”

“I t-tried to ask why we were d-doing all of this… Stanley could've just erased my mind after I let B-Bill in and e-everything would just end, but Stanley… S-Stanley didn’t budge. He s-said it had to be him. Said I… S-Said I actually had a future.” Ford breathing hiccups, shoulders hiking up to his neck as even more even more tears run down his cheeks and to the grass below. “A-A-And I was j-just so scared I… I let him… I let h-him take my place…”

A choked sob rips from his throat, unable to take it anymore as he covers his face with his polydactyl hands, continuing to explain through the tears and shaky speech. “O-One of the last things I ever d-did was punch h-him in the face! I never t-told him I was s-sorry! He DIED thinking I h-hated him!”

Dipper immediately jumped into action, pushing himself over to Ford and pulling his hands away from his face. He rested his forehead against his great-nephew’s and held onto his smaller hands, keeping his eyes on Stanford’s as he firmly spoke. “Breathe with me Stanford. In and out.”

It took a moment but the kid’s breathing slowed ever so slightly as he tried to mimic Dipper’s breaths though he was still unable to control the hiccuping and sniffling.

“You didn’t kill Stanley.” Dipper continued to speak, his tone softening considerably as he gently squeezed Ford’s polydactyl hand with his larger one. “He’s alive and breathing right behind you.”

The kid began to look frustrated as he lowly choked out, “He might as well be.”

Dipper… couldn’t exactly retort that. By all means Stanley would be a shell of his former self, fundamentally a completely different person when he wakes up. However, he wasn’t going to let his great-nephew wallow like this. He gently squeezed his hands once more and softly questioned, “…Do you really think Stanley would hate you after all of this?”

Stanford froze at the question, only the sound of rustling leaves and birds chirping to be heard as the brunet boy’s eyes stayed locked with Dipper’s before letting it fall to the dirt below. After a couple quiet moments Stanford finally mumbled out. “He should.”

“But would he?”

“….” Ford couldn’t reply, a bittersweet and melancholic feeling flooding his heart.

As if on cue, a faint noise was suddenly made behind the three of them.

Everyone whirled their heads over to where Stanley sat kneeling on the grass. His brown eyes blearily began to open as he raised his hand up to idly rub them. The faint freckles on his cheeks and his brown curls were dusted in the warm light of the sun. A yawn fell from his lips, tiny tears pricking the corners of his eyes from the deep breath, before he finally opened his eyes completely.

His brown eyes blinked away sleep, his gaze slowly darting between the three people also kneeling on the grass in front of him, not saying a word yet, just taking them in.

Dipper and Ford waited with baited breath, words stuck in their throats as they stared back at Stan, trying to find any familiarity in his eyes.

Mabel couldn’t wait a single second longer.

“…S-Stanley? Lee?” She softly questioned, tears beginning to well up in her eyes again as she gingerly crawled closer to him. “H-Hey my little firecracker! You r-remember me right? Your lovable Grunkle Mabel!” Her hands raise up to cup Stanley’s round cheeks, her smile a little wobbly but her brown eyes filled with a ray of hope. “You remember me, d-don’t you pumpkin?”

Stanley just stared blankly at his great-aunt, completely silent for a moment before his brows furrow. He tilts his head, confusion clearly seen in his blank eyes as he bluntly asks, “Who are you?”

Mabel’s heart might as well have shattered into a million pieces. The tears welling up in her eyes freely fall but the wobbly smile refuses to fall. One hand raises to run through his messy curls as the other continues to cup his face. “W-What are you talking about sweetheart? It’s me, Stanley, It’s Mabel.”

Dipper sprung forward and gently began to pull Mabel away from Stanley, that pit in his stomach growing even more as his sister tried to weakly yank herself out of his grasp while crying out, “It’s me, Stanley! It’s me!” He squeezed her in his arms as her cries turned to sobs, burying her face against Dipper’s chest as she finally let out all the pain she’s been keeping in her chest since the moment Weirdmageddon had begun.

“It’s no use Mabel, Stanley doesn’t remember anything.” Dipper softly spoke. He hugged her close and rested his cheek on the top of her head, her silver curls brushing against his skin as his brown eyes locked with Stanley. The kid looked so confused and lost, a sight that just made his heart ache even more. “…Stanley doesn’t even realize it, but he just saved the world… Saved us… Our little hero…”

Stanley brows were furrowed, not understanding anything that was going on in the slightest. He glanced over at where Stanford was standing, lifting up his hand to cup his mouth and loudly stage whisper to the brunet, “What’s up with the old guys?”

Stanford didn’t answer, just staring at Stanley with large globs of tears dripping down his cheeks. Without warning he sprinted to his brother, engulfing Stanley in a tight hug and hiding his face in his neck. The impact of the tackle hug almost knocked the two to the floor but Stanley managed to keep himself propped up with one arm, brown eyes wide with shock as even more confusion filled his fuzzy mind. “W-Woah, okay-! We’re hugging now, I guess!”

“I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry, I’m s-so sorry-” Stanford kept repeating those words over and over against his brother’s neck, his body trembling from just how hard he was crying.

Stanley had no clue what the hell was happening. He was in a place he’s never seen before, surrounded by strangers sobbing their eyes out, and he was realizing that he couldn’t really remember what his name was again. A part of him was telling him he should just book it, get away from these weirdos, but something in him refused to let him.

Maybe it was because they all genuinely looked so sad. He didn’t know who they were but his heart sorta ached at their grief-stricken appearances, kind of wanting to comfort them in some way.

Maybe he’s a bleeding heart, he can’t really remember if he is.

Stanley shuffled a little in Stanford’s tight grasp until finally something kinda heavy was laid onto the sobbing child’s shoulders. Stanford tentatively lifted his wet face from his brother’s neck to peer behind him.

It was his leather bomber jacket. Stanley had subtlety slipped off the jacket, careful not to jostle the crying kid too much, then plopped it onto his shoulders.

“You looked like you needed it more than me.” Stanley spoke, an awkward but kind smile on his face. He then quickly shrugged it off and added on with a casual tone, “Besides, I was gettin’ warm in that thing, you can just keep it.”

Stanford sharply inhaled at those words, polydactyl hands letting go of Stanley to grip at the jacket draped over his shoulders and pull it even closer, acting as if it was a barrier that could protect him from the world around him. A choking sob ripped from Stanford’s throat, hiding his face against his brother’s neck once again.

“Okay! We’re still crying!” Stanley awkwardly sputtered out, tensing up as the brunet continued to cry against his neck, unsure of what he should be doing. Eventually he settled on tentatively patting the crying kid’s back, hoping that he was actually comforting the kid and not making whatever was happening worse.

“I s-shouldn’t have pushed you a-away because I was t-told to! You w-were never a burden! I-I don’t hate you! I n-never did!” Stanford kept crying apologizes against Stanley’s shoulder, making the already confused brunet boy even more lost with every word spoken. His hand continued to pat on Ford’s back as he softly replied, his words tentative and unsure, “…I don’t hate you either.”

“Yes you do.” Stanford thickly replied against his brother's shoulder, completely and utterly convinced in his distraught state that his brother would absolutely hate him if he could remember what Ford did to him.

Stanley couldn’t exactly reply to that because he genuinely didn’t know if he did hate this kid. He didn’t even know who he was. So instead of responding he just continued to rub the brunet’s back, hoping to ease the hyperventilation sobs buried against his skin.

It took a handful of long moments filled with silence and tears for the three to compose themselves, Dipper being the first to finally stand up.

“…We’ve been wallowing here long enough, people are going to get worried.”

Dipper gingerly pulls Mabel to her feet, tears had stopped falling from her face but her cheeks red and her famous smile no longer present. He made sure his sister was steady on her feet before holding out his hand to the twin boys huddled together on the ground, a small weary smile on his wrinkled face.

“Come on… let’s go home.”

The twins pull themselves up with Dipper’s help. Once on their feet Ford latches onto Stan’s arm, sticking to his side and refusing to let go. Stanley doesn’t seem to mind or even notice the clinging presence as his brown eyes look up at the sky and over the tall trees with curious wonder.

Dipper softly sighed and eyed over the fascinated brunet looking over the tree line with concern, “Are your muscles alright, Stanley? No issues with walking or standing?”

The kid didn’t respond for a moment, still looking around before he finally registered that he was being spoken to. His brown eyes darted around before he pointed at himself with his free hand. “Oh! Am I Stanley?”

Dipper felt a stab in his chest at the question, but still gently replied, “Yeah… you’re Stanley.”

Stanley nodded at the confirmation and softly said ‘Staaaanley’ under his breath, getting accustomed to the unfamiliar name.

“Stanley… cool name! I like it!” He cheerfully replied, a wide smile spreading across his face that showed off his missing tooth. “And my legs are fine, I think.” He used his free hand to grab onto Dipper’s hand and loudly added on, “Now lead the way, old man!”

Dipper sighed and squeezed onto Stanley’s hand, gently guiding him through the woods back to the Shack, never forgetting the route home even after all these years.

The twins were parallels of each other as they walked. Mabel was clinging onto her brother’s arm and leaning her head against his shoulder while Stanford was doing the same with his brother. The air was so tense and gloomy around the four, affecting all but Stanley.

Stanley was looking around the woods as they walked, his brown eyes full of innocent wonder as he mumbled under his breath about ‘Never seeing trees this big’.

When they made it back to the Shack Dipper could only wince at the state it was in. It was falling apart and damaged from the battle during Weirdmageddon, the damage unable to be reversed even after the apocalypse had ended.

“The Shack…” Mabel sadly lamented under her breath, the sight of the place she spent 30 years making into a home and business just adding onto her already overwhelming amount of sadness.

Dipper was about to try and comfort her when he noticed 3 figures standing in front of the shack. After a moment the three started to sprint towards the family, frames becoming clearer as they got closer.

It was Anjelita, Boyish Dan, and Fiddleford.

“Are you guys alright?!” Boyish Dan loudly asked with his booming voice before he even reached the family. Anjelita was silently but swiftly following behind him, her hand gripping her Abuelo’s cap so it wouldn't fly off her head and her eyes filled with concern. Fiddleford was tripping over his feet from how fast he was sprinting, Dipper was mildly concerned the accident prone teen was going to trip over a branch or rock and slam face first against the ground.

He didn’t trip, thankfully. The small blond teen stumbled to a stop in front of the family, specifically the younger set of twins, panting heavily. “Thank the lord y’all are alright! I thought y'all had gotten trapped under somethin’ or hurt or worse!” Fiddleford anxiously rambled on, clearly having thrown himself into a tizzy over his friend's safety.

Stanley’s brows furrowed at the new faces, especially the long nosed southern one right in front of him. He raised an eyebrow and looked over the blond with an untrusting gaze. “…You’re not going to hug me and cry too, are you?”

Fiddleford looked bewildered at the question, blinking in confusion as he asked, “Now why on’ earth would I do that?”

Before Stanley or someone else in the family could reply, Anjelita spoke up from beside Boyish Dan. “His memory was erased, correct?”

The family, minus Stanley, flinched at the question.

Anjelita was a very observant young lady, so it makes sense she would be the first to notice.

Fiddleford and Boyish Dan kinda tensed up at the question. They also saw what happened while they were trapped in the tapestries, but they had hoped that maybe…

“That really stuck? He doesn’t remember anything?” Boyish Dan questioned.

“Nothin’ at all?” Fiddleford softly added.

Dipper wordless shook his head and a solemn silence covered them all.

The three followed the family into the dilapidated Mystery Shack, everyone looking over the cracks and debris with melancholy and sadness on their faces. Well, all but Stanley.

Stanley excitedly jumped up as they all entered the run down living room. “Wow, nice place you have here!” The brunet ripped away from Stanford and Dipper’s grasp, the suddenness making Stanford weakly try and latch back onto his brother for just a moment before giving up and wrapping his arms around his stomach. The boy then ran full speed at the dusty recliner. Stan always loved that chair would steal it from Mabel whenever he had a chance.

He jumped onto the seat and laughed as he bounced a little before settling down. “Lovin’ this chair! I just sink into this thing!”

He opened his brown eyes and saw everyone standing at the edges of the room, the miserable air of sadness weighing so heavy on the room he could feel it pressing against his skull. Stanley limply leaned back in the chair, a faint look of annoyance on his face as he bluntly questioned, “Geez, am I at a funeral? Who died and turned you all into sad sacks.”

No one answered.

Fiddleford turned to the group, going to lift his finger to bite on it only to stop himself when he realized he was doing it. Instead the blond lifted up his chewlery necklace and began to bite on it instead, his nerves shot as he desperately asked, “Surely there must be ah’ way to reverse this!”

“No, there isn’t.” Stanford replied, not even bothering to look up from the floor, looking extremely tired and downright miserable as he hugged his jacket closer.

Fiddleford whips around to Stanford, exasperation and agitation clear on his face as he yells back, “There's gotta’ be!”

Dipper softly sighed, defeat dripping from his voice as he gently replied. “I’m sorry, Fiddleford. There isn’t anything we can do for Stanley. No one can come back from something like this.”

Anjelita perks up from the besides Boyish Dan, counteracting Dipper’s statement with a simple, “Miss Candy.”

“W-What?” Dipper questioned, blinking up at her in confusion.

The large red-headed teen jolted and jumped up at the reminder.

“That’s right! Kooky Candy got her memories back during that whole weird secret society adventure!”

Fiddleford looked up at Dipper with hope and desperation in his green eyes, hands trembling from the reminder of that awful day and his shot nerves. “Y-Yeah! An’ Miss Candy’s mind was cracked ‘cause of tha’ memory gun!”

The blond points to Stanley sitting on the recliner, the confused brunet just staring at the group with furrowed brows, not taking in anything that they’re saying. “Lee still gotta’ chance!”

Dipper is quiet for a moment, brain running a mile a minute. When he finally speaks up again his voice is low and unsure.

“… I’m not going to say it's going to work,”

His eyes meet his sister’s, her sad brown eyes filled with a glimmer of hope at the thought of being able to save her little firecracker.

“But I’m not going to say it’s impossible either.”

He racked his brain once more, trying to think of a solution, an answer that has a high probability of working.

“…Maybe if we had something that could jog his memory-”

Mabel suddenly gasped, eyes wide as she squeezes Dipper’s arm, her grip tight. “My scrapbook!”

She then quickly rushes to a desk near the table, glitter and shimmering pieces of paper fluttering out as her hands rummaged in one of the drawers. She let out a loud ‘Aha!’ And pulled out a pink and very sparkly scrapbook.

“It’s not going to work.” Stanford bluntly mumbled, defeat and sorrow clinging to his small frames.

“Not with that attitude!” The old woman quickly shoots back, not letting anything snuff out her freshly burning glimmer of hope in her chest.

She quickly ran back over to Stanley, the rest of the group, minus Stanford, following suit. She placed the glimmering book onto the confused child’s lap, the front labeled ‘Summer of 2012’ in sparkly glitter pen.

“I’ve been working on this book since the day you two arrived!” Mabel offhandedly explained while opening it to the first page. Pasted in the middle of that page was a cute photo of Stanley and Stanford unpacking their bags. Stan was making a silly face at the camera while Ford had not realized the photo was being taken, too busy hanging up his Nikola Tesla poster with a concentrated face. Stickers and other miscellaneous crafting objects were glued to the page. “Here’s the first day you two arrived!” She then pointed at about 4 to 6 small pieces of wood taped to the page. “And those are the splinters you got stuck in your hand when trying to unpack!”

Stanley furrowed his brow at that, very confused on why she would keep something like that but not having a chance to ask before she pointed to the next thing.

The next photo on the page was Stanford and Stanley looking a tiny bit scratched up and tired. Ford was looking away from the camera and into the inner pocket of his jacket, excitement shining in his eyes as he stared at the journal he had found in the woods that day that was poking out of his jacket ever so slightly. Stanley was also excited but for a very different reason. His eyes were wide with excitement, his equally wide smile showing off the space in his teeth where his tooth was knocked out. The missing tooth was being held very close to the camera, still covered in small flecks of blood.

“And here’s you losing your tooth the very next day!”

Next to the photo was also a small tooth taped onto the paper, assumedly Stanley’s baby tooth that was knocked out. He especially wanted to ask why she had scrapbooked that but was once again cut off, no one except him finding this old woman strange in the slightest.

Fiddleford had leaned over and flipped the page. On the page was a photo of Fiddleford, Stanley, and Stanford all huddled together on one of the boy’s beds, all of them wearing pajamas. Stanford and Stanley seemed to both be talking at the same time, talking over each other while Fiddleford looked a little nervous and overwhelmed, but a smile very clearly seen on his face as he was squished between the twins.

“Tha’s the first time I spent tha’ night after we ‘came friends! After I, uh, ya’ know, tried to kill ya’ with a giant robit-”

Boyish Dan pointed at the next page. The twins were wearing 70s themed dancing clothes, disco lights shining on the two as they stood alone on a dance floor. The boys were covered in punch but still smiling while sideways hugging. Stanford in particular looked a little tired and had a bruise or two.

“Your guy’s 13th birthday party? A bunch of power hungry Ford clones causing so much trouble we pulled the fire alarm and set off the sprinklers?

He then pointed at two carnival tickets taped onto the page next to a photo of Boyish Dan’s grappling both of the twins under his arms and lifting them high into the air, standing in front of a carnival as the warm afternoon light washed over them. Dan was laughing maniacally while Ford looked shocked, grabbing onto Dan’s large arm looking at the ground nervously, as if he was afraid of being dropped. Stanley also looked shocked but not in the same way Stanford did. Stan’s face was bright red and he looked like he was trying to laugh off being picked up so suddenly.

“How about the carnival? You tried that ‘test your strength’ game while Ford did that ‘guess how many jellybeans are in this jar’ game and both failed at them?”

Anjelita softly spoke up next to Boyish Dan as he turned the page. A picture of Stanley all dressed up was pasted onto the page. He was wearing a black suit, a red fez with the same symbol that’s on his sweater Mabel made him, an eye patch, and an 8-Ball cane. He had his eye patch flipped up and was winking at the camera, fully showing off his showman persona. Next to that photo was another one, this time depicting Stanley and Stanford sitting in a booth with Anjelita and her grandparents. Stanley and Anjelita’s Abuelo, Soos, were scarfing down a pizza slice as fast as they could, assumedly in a race to see who could eat it faster. Stanford was looking at his brother with mild disgust and concern while Anjelita’s Abuela, Melody, was excitedly cheering on her husband. Anjelita was sitting at the table leaning her chin on her hand, a soft amused smile on her lips.

“The time you were the boss of the Mystery Shack for a day? The arcade with the killer robots?”

Dipper had his hand on Mabel’s shoulder, carefully questioning, “Is any of this ringing a bell? Anything at all?”

Everyone, minus Stanford, were crowding Stanley, all in his personal space and making the dazed child even more confused. On edge and gripping the scrapbook tightly, furrowed brown eyes completely void of familiarity as he looked over the group.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Stanley began, quickly looking down as he slammed the scrapbook closed. “But none of this is making any sense to me! You keep talking to me like I know who you are, but I don’t!”

The hope in the group died at Stanley’s outburst, all of their enthusiasm fading and disappearing entirely in record time.

“Told you.” Stanford softly mumbled from the other side of the room, despondent and hugging himself tight while leaning against the wall, utter exhaustion seeping into his bones.

Stanley shifted uncomfortably in the recliner, that bubbling sense of guilt building in his stomach and his chest once again at the sight. He doesn’t even know these people but he doesn’t want to see them upset. Guess he really is a bleeding heart. He’s learning something new about himself every second.

The brunet sighed, idly rubbing his round cheeks as he quietly added on, his voice much softer than before, “Look… I’m sorry I don’t remember… I really am…”

“It’s alright Stanley, it’s not your fault.” Dipper gently replied, unaware of the way Stanford flinched at those words behind him.

There was a depressing and strained silence hanging over the group afterwards, no one really knowing what else to say after their hopeful attempt was proven to be pointless.

Then all of a sudden hot air and a snorting noise tickled Stanley’s left ear.

The kid whirled his head at the noise only to come face to face with a big old pig with a collar around its neck, along with a name tag that Stanley couldn’t read from where he was sitting. The two just stare at each other for a couple seconds, blank stare to blank stare, until it was finally broken by the pig hopping up and getting closer to Stanley, trying to chew on his brown curls.

Stanley squealed with surprise and tried to push the massive pig away, Mabel weakly laughing on her knees at the antics, her mind flashing to all the times Waddles has lovingly bothered her great-nephew the entire time he’s been here. She was about to tell her beloved pet to stop messing with Stanley when the kid beat her to the punch.

“Augh! Waddles! How many times have I told you to stop trying to eat my hair!”

Everyone froze, even Stanford’s head whirled over at Stanley’s words.

“…What did he say?” Ford asked, his voice laced in disbelief.

Stanford initially didn’t want to think there was a chance for Stanley to remember, figuring that this was going to be his punishment. Forever mourning someone who’s not even dead, someone he all but killed. But when Stanley spoke Waddles name, something he shouldn’t remember, felt that little ball of hope he’s been trying so hard to suppress in his chest reemerge.

Now Waddles was trying to lick Stanley’s cheek, making the boy squeal even more.

“I said get Waddles off me, Sixer!”

A small breathless laugh left Dipper’s throat as ran his hands through his silver curls, a hopeful disbelief in his eyes. “…It’s working.”

Stanford suddenly sprinted up to the group, grabbing onto his Great-Aunt’s arm from where she’s kneeling in front of Stanley and holding her scrapbook. “Keep reading, Grauntie Mabel.” His gaze serious, but his voice a soft plea.

Mabel had to quickly blink a couple times and bring herself back to reality, adrenaline beginning to pump in her veins at the prospect that this was working. She jumped to her feet, not even wavering as her knees creaked at the sudden movement, and called out to everyone in the room, “Story time!”

She grabbed onto Stanley, that classic Mabel smile was back on her face as she easily lifted him up and sat down where he was sitting on the recliner, pulling the frazzled boy onto her lap. She reached out and yanked Dipper to her as well, making him sit right next to her on the recliner. It was a bit of a tight squeeze but thankfully the two twins had always been on the lankier side so they made it work.

Dipper held his hand out to Stanford, helping him up and pulling him onto his lap, paralleling his sister next to him. Stanford’s immediately pressed against Stanley’s side, polydactyl hand instinctively slipping into his and squeezing like his life depended on it.

Boyish Dan and Anjelita leaned more on the farther back sides of the recliner while Fiddleford jumped up and sat on the armrest closest to Mabel, the blond pressing himself against Stanley’s other side.

Stanley was now completely surrounded once again, being hugged and squeezed and picked up by these strangers. However this time he didn’t get annoyed or uncomfortable at the attention. Instead there was this familiar warmth in his chest, like he was always meant to be held like this. He can’t really describe what caused that shift.

Maybe these guys are right, maybe he is remembering.

Stan allows himself to relax in the arms of the older woman and against the two kids pressing against either side of him, a small smile growing on his face.

“Okay okay,” Mabel began, flipping back to the first page of the scrapbook. “It all started when I got a call from my dearest older brother asking me to watch my sweet darling great-nephews for the summer, and how could I say no to having my precious little nephews all to myself for 3 months!”

Mabel began to go over every picture and every memento in the scrapbook, everyone else pitching in and adding their own commentary or laughing every once and a while, a smile on everyone’s face.

Except for Stanford.

Stanford was looking intensely at his twin, waiting anxiously for the moment Stanley finally remembered him.

A part of him was excited, the other was dreading it.

The moment his brother remembers what happened, what Ford did to him, their bond is going to completely shatter and Stanley is going to want nothing to do with him anymore. No more late night talks, no more covering for each other, no more getting into trouble. Stanford wouldn’t be surprised if Stanley wanted to cut him out of his life completely after this after what he did. Stanford wouldn’t even blame him. He deserves it after all.

Then he saw it and his heart stopped in his chest.

Stanley rapidly blinked for a second, a familiar shine in his brown eyes as he turned to look at Stanford, recognition and understanding in his stare for the first time since the end of Weirdmageddon.

The two stared silently as Mabel continued to talk, everyone’s words muffling into background noise.

Stanford wasn’t going to beg for forgiveness. His eyes weren’t filled with sorrow or guilt. They were steady, completely prepared for anything Stanley threw at him, knowing whatever it was he deserved it.

Stanley’s eyes were filled with that familiar shine but no emotion showed on his face as his stare bore into his twin, completely silent as the two eyes stayed locked.

Then Stanley did something Stanford wasn’t expecting. His brown eyes softened, a smile on his face as he got closer and leaned his head onto Stanford’s shoulder, his thumb rubbing over his twin’s polydactyl knuckles the same way their mother would do whenever she tried to calm them down when they were much smaller.

Stanford was tense, completely frozen. He was expecting yelling, punching, blaming, or even something as simple as wordlessly pulling his hand away, but he wasn’t expecting forgiveness.

He didn't deserve this. Stanley should hate his guts. Despise him and push him away just like Stanford was doing most of the summer.

Ford’s body didn’t untense, but he did slowly rest his head on top of Stan’s, squeezing his brother's hand as if it was his life line, his thoughts swirling in his mind like a hurricane.

He didn’t deserve Stanley’s forgiveness.

Or was it pity?

It must be pity.

It has to be.

Mabel was still speaking as she leaned down and rested her chin onto Stanley, Dipper doing the same with Stanford. A warm fuzzy feeling enveloped everyone in the room. Everyone but Stanford, who instead felt a sickening feeling of guilt deep in his chest.

Stanford didn’t deserve this. This kindness.

So he swore right then and there that he was going to spend the rest of his life atoning for what he did, staying by his twin’s side to make sure nothing would never, ever, hurt his brother ever again.

Or until the day Stanley wises up and realizes that Stanford wasn’t worth his pity, that he’s too good to have a coward like him for a brother.

Whatever came first.

🌻🌱🌤️~~~~~~~~~~~~🌦️🛡️🥀

Hope you liked it!! It was fun to write when my thumbs weren’t hurting from typing on my phone for 6 hours straight lmao 💥💥💥

[dandylion240]

Looking around the drab hallway wrinkling his nose Jayden asked “are you sure this is the address?”

“Positive” he held the paper he’d written the address on. “Check it for yourself if you don’t believe me.”

“It’s just” sighing he didn’t know what he expected. Whatever it was it wasn’t this dismal apartment building. Raising his hand he knocked on the door. They waited a minute before knocking again.

“Excuse me” a young girl said behind them “can I help you?”

“I’m looking for my brother, Jonah Reagan” pointing towards the door. “Does he live here?”

Giving him a cautious look she opened the door “wait here.”

They exchanged looks “girlfriend” Evan asked.

Shrugging Jayden shook his head “don’t know.”

Closing the door in their faces Courtney called out “Jonah are you here? Dad? Anyone?”

“In here” Jonah called coming out of Eli’s room.

“There’s a couple of guys asking for you” she nodded towards the door putting her book bag down. “One of them says he’s your brother.”

“How did they find me” he whispered staring at the door.

“Huh? Did you say something” she asked looking up from the book she was reading.

“No” he shook his head wishing that Cory was there.

Shrugging Courtney went back to her book.

Bouncing his son on his hip making up his mind. He stepped into the hall coming face to face with his twin for the second time that day. A feeling of familiarity and longing washed through him. It was like he’d been missing a piece of himself he hadn’t known was missing. “What do you want” he asked holding his son close.

“Is that…”Evan reached a hand towards the toddler in Jonah’s arms.

“Yeah” he eyed the man that was identical to the man he once loved whole heartedly. Warily he let Evan take Eli from him. With his arms empty he crossed them in front of him.

Jayden stared at him. Muscles working along his jawline. “I’m sorry” he blurted “I should have tried to be more understanding.”

Blinking Jonah felt his eyes tingle “I’ve missed you.” There was so much he wanted to say and so much he couldn’t.

“Me too” Jayden closed the gap between them throwing his arms around his brother. His twin. It felt like two halves becoming a whole again.

“Daddy” Eli pointed at an older man exiting from the elevator.

Jonah’s mouth dropped open. It was the first time Eli had ever called Cory daddy and it had to be now. Clearing his throat he held a hand out towards Cory “I want you to meet some people, Jayden and his boyfriend Evan.”

“Fiance” Jayden corrected after a moment of stunned silence.

Cory on his part stared at the two strangers on his doorstep. “I forgot my wallet” he explained “I’ll order in for delivery.” His eyes watched Jonah carefully looking for clues as to how he was coping with their unexpected visitors.

Turning to the couple “would you like to join us for supper?”

Jayden looked to Evan who nodded. “We need to talk” he said implying they would stay.

“Is that alright with you” Jonah asked nibbling on his bottom lip.

“If that’s what you want” Cory said putting a protective arm around him. “If you’re uncomfortable you don’t have to do this.”

Jayden opened his mouth to protest but the pressure on his shoulder where Evan had put his hand was enough of a warning to restrain him. Instead he glared at Cory who seemed to know his brother better than he did.

Breaking eye contact Jonah nodded “I want to do this.”

“You’re sure?”

Straightening his shoulders he nodded “you’ve told me one day I’d have to face my past. I guess today is that day.”

Previous/Next

[mer-se]

beaut 🐎 🍂

[joycrispy]

Awhile ago @ouidamforeman made this post:

This shot through my brain like a chain of firecrackers, so, without derailing the original post, I have some THOUGHTS to add about why this concept is not only hilarious (because it is), but also...

It. It kind of fucks. Severely.

And in a delightfully Pratchett-y way, I'd dare to suggest.

I'll explain:

As inferred above, both Crowley AND Aziraphale have canonical Biblical counterparts. Not by name, no, but by function.

Crowley, of course, is the serpent of Eden.

(note on the serpent of Eden: In Genesis 3:1-15, at least, the serpent is not identified as anything other than a serpent, albeit one that can talk. Later, it will be variously interpreted as a traitorous agent of Hell, as a demon, as a guise of Satan himself, etc. In Good Omens --as a slinky ginger who walks funny)

Lesser known, at least so far as I can tell, is the flaming sword. It, too, appears in Genesis 3, in the very last line:

"So he drove out the man; and placed at the east of the garden of Eden Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life." --Genesis 3:24, KJV

Thanks to translation ambiguity, there is some debate concerning the nature of the flaming sword --is it a divine weapon given unto one of the Cherubim (if so, why only one)? Or is it an independent entity, which takes the form of a sword (as other angelic beings take the form of wheels and such)? For our purposes, I don't think the distinction matters. The guard at the gate of Eden, whether an angel wielding the sword or an angel who IS the sword, is Aziraphale.

(note on the flaming sword: in some traditions --Eastern Orthodox, for example-- it is held that upon Christ's death and resurrection, the flaming sword gave up it's post and vanished from Eden for good. By these sensibilities, the removal of the sword signifies the redemption and salvation of man.

...Put a pin in that. We're coming back to it.)

So, we have our pair. The Serpent and the Sword, introduced at the beginning and the end (ha) of the very same chapter of Genesis.

But here's the important bit, the bit that's not immediately obvious, the bit that nonetheless encapsulates one of the central themes, if not THE central theme, of Good Omens:

The Sword was never intended to guard Eden while Adam and Eve were still in it.

Do you understand?

The Sword's function was never to protect them. It doesn't even appear until after they've already fallen. No... it was to usher Adam and Eve from the garden, and then keep them out. It was a threat. It was a punishment.

The flaming sword was given to be used against them.

So. Again. We have our pair. The Serpent and the Sword: the inception and the consequence of original sin, personified. They are the one-two punch that launches mankind from paradise, after Hell lures it to destruction and Heaven condemns it for being destroyed. Which is to say that despite being, supposedly, hereditary enemies on two different sides of a celestial cold war, they are actually unified by one purpose, one pivotal role to play in the Divine Plan: completely fucking humanity over.

That's how it's supposed to go. It is written.

...But, in Good Omens, they're not just the Serpent and the Sword.

They're Crowley and Aziraphale.

(author begins to go insane from emotion under the cut)

In Good Omens, humanity is handed it's salvation (pin!) scarcely half an hour after losing it. Instead of looming over God's empty garden, the sword protects a very sad, very scared and very pregnant girl. And no, not because a blameless martyr suffered and died for the privilege, either.

It was just that she'd had such a bad day. And there were vicious animals out there. And Aziraphale worried she would be cold.

...I need to impress upon you how much this is NOT just a matter of being careless with company property. With this one act of kindness, Aziraphale is undermining the whole entire POINT of the expulsion from Eden. God Herself confronts him about it, and he lies. To God.

And the Serpent--

(Crowley, that is, who wonders what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway; who thinks that maybe he did a GOOD thing when he tempted Eve with the apple; who objects that God is over-reacting to a first offense; who knows what it is to fall but not what it is to be comforted after the fact...)

--just goes ahead and falls in love with him about it.

As for Crowley --I barely need to explain him, right? People have been making the 'didn't the serpent actually do us a solid?' argument for centuries. But if I'm going to quote one of them, it may as well be the one Neil Gaiman wrote ficlet about:

"If the account given in Genesis is really true, ought we not, after all, to thank this serpent? He was the first schoolmaster, the first advocate of learning, the first enemy of ignorance, the first to whisper in human ears the sacred word liberty, the creator of ambition, the author of modesty, of inquiry, of doubt, of investigation, of progress and of civilization." --Robert G. Ingersoll

The first to ask questions.

Even beyond flattering literary interpretation, we know that Crowley is, so often, discreetly running damage control on the machinations of Heaven and Hell. When he can get away with it. Occasionally, when he can't (1827).

And Aziraphale loves him for it, too. Loves him back.

And so this romance plays out over millennia, where they fall in love with each other but also the world, because of each other and because of the world. But it begins in Eden. Where, instead of acting as the first Earthly example of Divine/Diabolical collusion and callousness--

(other examples --the flood; the bet with Satan; the back channels; the exchange of Holy Water and Hellfire; and on and on...)

--they refuse. Without even necessarily knowing they're doing it, they just refuse. Refuse to trivialize human life, and refuse to hate each other.

To write a story about the Serpent and the Sword falling in love is to write a story about transgression.

Not just in the sense that they are a demon and an angel, and it's ~forbidden. That's part of it, yeah, but the greater part of it is that they are THIS demon and angel, in particular. From The Real Bible's Book of Genesis, in the chapter where man falls.

It's the sort of thing you write and laugh. And then you look at it. And you think. And then you frown, and you sit up a little straighter. And you think.

And then you keep writing.

And what emerges hits you like a goddamn truck.

(...A lot of Pratchett reads that way. I believe Gaiman when he says Pratchett would have been happy with the romance, by the way. I really really do).

It's a story about transgression, about love as transgression. They break the rules by loving each other, by loving creation, and by rejecting the hatred and hypocrisy that would have triangulated them as a unified blow against humanity, before humanity had even really got started. And yeah, hell, it's a queer romance too, just to really drive the point home (oh, that!!! THAT!!!)

...I could spend a long time wildly gesturing at this and never be satisfied. Instead of watching me do that (I'll spare you), please look at this gif:

I love this shot so much.

Look at Eve and Crowley moving, at the same time in the same direction, towards their respective wielders of the flaming sword. Adam reaches out and takes her hand; Aziraphale reaches out and covers him with a wing.

You know what a shot like that establishes? Likeness. Commonality. Kinship.

"Our side" was never just Crowley and Aziraphale. Crowley says as much at the end of season 1 ("--all of us against all of them."). From the beginning, "our side" was Crowley, Aziraphale, and every single human being. Lately that's around 8 billion, but once upon a time it was just two other people. Another couple. The primeval mother and father.

But Adam and Eve die, eventually. Humanity grows without them. It's Crowley and Aziraphale who remain, and who protect it. Who...oversee it's upbringing.

Godfathers. Sort of.

[parkerslatte]

Different

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: none

Summary: Ever since Feyre arrived at Velaris, they have only ever known Azriel a stoic and mostly serious. But once his wife comes home, she sees a different side to him.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

Feyre watched as Azriel stood by the window. His shadows moved over his shoulders and around his ear as if whispering something to him. The expression on Azriel’s face was his same neutral one that only ever seemed to change the smallest amount. And only ever in the presence of the Inner Circle and even then there would only be a small hint of a smile. 

It was late at night and everyone was enjoying a relaxing night with a few bottles of Rhys’s expensive alcohol. So far, Azriel hadn’t moved from his place at the window, his back was rigid as if he was expecting something, though that was the only indicator that he was. His face was his usual stoicism, giving nothing away. 

“Az, are you ever going to get away from that window anytime soon?” Cassian complained. 

Azriel turned his attention to Cassian and scowled. “I’m busy.”

“Not busy enough to spend time with the people you love,” Cassian teased. 

“Az, sit down, you won’t miss anything,” Rhys chimed in. 

With a final look through the window, Azriel walked over to the rest of the Inner Circle and sat in the armchair. His back was tense and he was not fully relaxed. Ever since Feyre had known him he had always been somewhat alert to everything. 

While everyone continues with the card game, Feyre couldn’t help but pay more attention to Azriel than to the game. Like Feyre, Azriel didn’t seem to be paying any attention to the game either. Instead he stared at the table in front of him completely lost in thought. 

Elain, who was sitting on the floor beside Mor, looked up to Azriel. “It’s your turn,” she said. 

“Oh,” Azriel said before picking a card out of his hand and placing it on top of the pile. 

“That isn’t a card you can even put on top,” Cassian complained. 

Azriel rolled his eyes. “Does it matter? You change the rules when you’re losing anyway.”

“I do not!” Cassian exclaimed. “I take this game seriously.”

“Until you are losing,” Nesta mumbled under her breath. 

Cassian began to argue back, clearly becoming outnumbered in his argument. Feyre only watched on with amusement. 

However everything was quickly interrupted by a new voice, one Feyre had never heated before, cut through the argument. 

“I leave you all alone for a few years and everything goes to shit?” 

Everything goes silent as everyone stares at the beautiful female who had just entered the room. Before Feyre could even process everything, Azriel threw his cards back down on the table and rushed up to the female.

The female giggled in delight as Azriel’s arms wrapped around her and swung her around. Feyre looked at her two sisters, each of them held the same expression she did. Confusion. 

What shocked Feyre the most about the situation was the bright and wide smile stretching across Azriel’s face. She had only noticed now that he had dimples. 

“I missed you so much,” Azriel mumbled. 

“It has only been a few months for you,” the female replied. 

“That is too long for me. I always wish for you to be next to me,” Azriel replied and pressed his lips against the females. His arms circled her waist, making sure there wasn’t a single gap between their bodies. The female threaded her fingers through his hair, causing Azriel to sigh in delight. Feyre couldn’t help but feel surprised by this display of affection from Azriel. 

Feyre leaned back against Rhys. “Who is that?”

“Azriel’s mate and wife,” Rhys answered.

“What?” Feyre exclaimed. “None of you have ever mentioned her before.”

“That was Azriel’s decision,” Rhys replied, filling up his glass. “You see, Y/N works as a researcher all over the continent for me so she is rarely ever here so none of us can protect her. Azriel has made a lot of enemies over the years and if he were tied to her, she could be put in even more danger.”

“When was the last time they saw each other?” Elain interjected. 

“For Azriel a few months ago,” Rhys answered. “Those two weeks just before Solstice when Azriel wasn’t here, he was on the continent with her.”

Feyre watched as Azriel buried his head into Y/N’s  neck, holding her against him tightly. Feyre smiled at the sight. 

“It has been at least two years since the rest of us have last seen Y/N,” Cassian chimed in. “It would be nice of her to greet the rest of us.”

Y/N pulled away from Azriel to smile at everyone else. “Give me a break, Cass. If you were to go without a hug from your mate in a few months, you wouldn't be jumping to greet everyone else first.”

“She knows about us?” Nesta asked. 

Cassian nodded. “Whenever Azriel meets up with her, she always asks about you all. Apparently she has been excited to meet you all.” 

Feyre watched as Azriel and Y/N walked over to join the group. Azriel’s gaze never left Y/N for a single second. Feyre’s gaze shifted down to their joined hands. She hid her smile behind her glass. 

Y/N quickly greeted Rhys, Cassian and Mor with a hug and she gave a small nod to Amren. 

Azriel sat down on the armchair first and as Y/N was about to sit in the arm of it, Azriel pulled her down so she sat in his lap instead. His arms locked around her waist as his chin rested on her shoulder. Feyre was sure she had never seen him look so happy before, so at ease. The smile on his face was one Feyre had never seen. 

“It is great to finally meet you three,” Y/N said, her gaze flicking between Feyre, Nesta and Elain. “This one here,” she said, reaching to cup Azriel’s cheek, “has told me a lot about you.”

“It is great to meet you,” Feyre said with a smile. 

“So now that introductions have finished,” Cassian begins, “can we get back to the game now? I was about to win.”

“Is that because you changed the rules halfway through the game?” Y/N teased. 

Cassian rolled his eyes. “You know what, Y/N. I don’t think I missed you at all.”

Y/N chuckled. “We both know that’s a lie.”

Azriel laughed along with Y/N and placed a soft kiss to her shoulder. He looked completely different to the stoic and serious shadowsinger Feyre was used to. With Y/N, Azriel seemed like a completely different person. The tension had vanished from his body and his shadows, which were once sliding over his shoulders, were now caressing Y/N legs and arms. One of his hands caressed her thigh while the other threaded with hers. Feyre could see the goosebumps appear on Y/N’s skin wherever he caressed. 

Azriel whispered something into Y/N’s ear which caused her to turn to him, smiling wide, her lips hovering just above his. The glimmer in Azriel’s eyes was prominent as he looked at her. It was as if she hung the stars. There was so much love and tenderness in his eyes that it could only be described as something out of a romance novel. She had never seen him look so at ease before. It was if everything else had melted away and the only thing left was Y/N.

Feyre couldn’t help but feel giddy at the sight. 

“How long have they been mates for?” Feyre asked Rhys. 

“Nearly three hundred years,” Rhys replied, wrapping an arm around Feyre. “They have been married for longer, the bond snapped nearly fifty years after they were married.”

“They seem happy,” Feyre said, her eyes not shifting from where Azriel and Y/N sat. 

Rhys smiled at his two friends, friends he considered family. “They are. Azriel is always his happiest when Y/N is around. He always has been ever since they met.”

“Why does she go away for long periods of time?” Feyre questioned. “It feels like torture when I’m away from you for too long. I cannot imagine being mates to someone for three hundred years and only being able to see them every few months.”

“That is the way it has been through their whole relationship,” Rhys explains. “They both knew what each other did for a job and neither of them wanted the other to give it up.” 

“How long is she back for this time?” Feyre asked. 

“I hadn’t asked,” Rhys said. “But I have a small feeling she will be here for a while this time.”

Feyre frowned. “How so?”

“Because if I know anything about Y/N, it is that she would never decline a glass of my finest wine and so far she has declined every glass Mor has offered her,” Rhys observed. 

Feyre looked at Rhys excitedly. “Does that mean—?”

Rhys smiled. “They haven’t said anything so I assume that they wish to keep the news between them for a little while longer.”

Feyre smiled over at Y/N and Azriel. She caught Y/N’s eye. The beautiful female only sent a wink Feyre’s way, a clear indication that she had overheard her and Rhys’s conversation. 

“Az, it’s your turn,” Nesta said. 

Azriel throws all of his cards onto the table. “I think I am done for the night.”

Cassian groaned . “Really?”

“Really,” Azriel said. “I want to spend time with my gorgeous mate and wife.”

Cassian chuckled. “That is only an excuse because you are losing,” the general teased. 

Azriel rolled his eyes and swooped Y/N up in his arms. Her arms locked around his neck. “If you need us— actually don’t even try to contact us at all.”

Y/N threw her head back and laughed as Azriel carried her out of the room. Feyre could hear them laughing loudly even when the door was firmly closed behind them. Feyre leaned into Rhys and linked her fingers with his.

“I am happy for them,” Feyre said, her eyes staring at the door where Azriel and Y/N had left. 

Rhys kissed the top of Feyre’s head. “Me too.”

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

junior.

synopsis: holding your child for the first time is always the first step to becoming a good parent. and…what now?

ft; itoshi rin, mikage reo, barou shouei

a/n: my tiktok is cryinggirlnamedhelen with a thanos pfp from squid game season 2. follow me if you want to.

itoshi rin

rin didn’t know how to feel about the cries and yells inside of the delivery room.

it wasn’t common for husbands in japan to stay with his wife during labor, so rin waited outside, pacing around with beads of sweat rolling down his temple. sae and rin’s parents sat on one of the benches while your parents sat on another, hands clasped together and mumbling prayers.

god, rin wasn’t even this nervous during the finals at the world cup.

stupid isagi and bachira had begged to come, and when they came, they just kept on asking what rin’s thoughts were on some stupid names for the baby that they had come up with. rin had shooed them away, and the two were now in the cafeteria, getting food for you when you would finally be done with the painful labor.

rin’s palms began to sweat; why was it taking so long? was it really normal for you to be screaming bloody murder in there? rin didn’t like hearing you in pain, not at all. each of your yelps and cries felt like a stab to rin’s heart. if he could be in there and stay by your side, he would in a heartbeat. but the doctors didn’t want him to be there, and rin trusted the doctors more than himself.

and finally, the high pitched cries of a baby erupted.

everyone stood up, and isagi and bachira came just in time with mountains of food on each plate that they held. the moment a doctor came out of the door with a smile, rin sprinted through the door and kneeled down by your side.

he placed a hand over yours, your skin pale and your breaths shallow, although to rin, you still looked like an angel. “rin. he’s healthy. he’s got your lashes.” a shaky smile made way to your lips before a doctor gently handed rin your newborn baby.

a tuft of dark green—almost black—hair was atop his head, and long underlashes that has been in the itoshi family for generations made way onto his eyes. rin felt his chest tightening, and his eyes began to water.

why did he feel so prideful of someone who he had just met?

the baby boy’s eyes opened; a bright teal, the color of sea glass. rin stiffened; was his kid going to cry? was rin holding him too tightly? did he fail at a father already?

but the small boy just smiled up at rin.

rin’s eyes gleamed, tears glossing over his turquoise irises like the most expensive porcelain china. “hey,” rin whispered softly. rin smiled gently when his son giggled softly. “you must’ve recognized my voice from when i used to talk to you through your mom’s stomach, huh? your mom’s amazing, she just delivered you through so much effort.” isagi and bachira stared from the doorway with their jaws dropped, although isagi’s eyes soon softened.

rin didn’t know why he loved this child so much. he didn’t know why a smile crawled to his lips the moment he saw him. he didn’t know why he felt the need to protect him forever. it scared him a little, but rin knew this feeling well, and he welcomed it.

after all, it was how rin felt when he had first met you.

mikage reo

reo once again winced at the sound of your screams, holding in even more tears and begging that your pain will end soon. once again, he asked his butlers and secretary the same thing as a few minutes again. “is everything there? her favorite foods? her favorite video games and snacks? her favorite movies? that one drink that the nurse recommended that was good for women who just gave birth?”

nagi, who was sitting on one of the benches and was dragged here by reo, replied tiredly, tapping away at his console. “reo, we just checked 3 minutes ago. they’re all here. even your butlers seem tired of this.” reo sent him a glare.

“reo, honey, you should sit. the nurses didn’t want you in there for a reason.” reo’s mother’s attempts at coaxing him were weak, and reo wouldn’t budge from his position standing right next to the door of the delivery room. “they knew that your crying during her pain would distract them.”

reo ignored his mom’s words. he had even tried bribing the nurses into letting him in before realizing that he really would just be a hindrance to deal with in the middle of trying to deliver a baby. a crying husband probably wasn’t a good addition to a screaming and wife.

suddenly, the screaming became higher pitched, more wet, more…alive.

your daughter was born.

without needing any confirmation from the doctors, reo shoved the door open and ran in, sitting on the chair right next to your bed that was placed by the doctor who had cleverly predicted his intrusion. “love, are you okay? does it still hurt? are you hungry? tired? how are you feeling? do you—“

“reo, im okay. thank you. and…” you weakly gestured to the nurse who held your baby wrapped in a bundle of purple blankets. instantly, reo stood up and took the baby into his arms, his eyes brimming with warmth.

“she looks just like you. she’s just as beautiful as her mom.” reo whispered, sitting on the chair again and gently cooing at his newborn daughter. he gently tickled her cheek with his pointer finger, and she giggled. reo’s heart melted and his eyes began to water again before he sniffled. “you’re like an angel. both you and your mom.”

reo’s parents walked in, discussing something about the future heir of the company, although reo ignored them for now. he’ll have to talk to them about how he wanted his daughter to follow her own path at another time. but for now, he just wanted to value this beautiful moment with his wife and newborn daughter.

nagi walked in, reading the room and shoving his gaming console into his jean pocket. he walked to you. “reo panicked a lot, and you screamed a lot. was it really that bad?” at your weak nod, nagi’s eyes widened a little bit. “wow. im suddenly really glad im not a woman.” a glare was sent from both reo and a few nurse.

reo glanced down at his daughter again, and his eyes softened, as if his daughter were the most precious thing in the world. “i love you so much.”

reo barely even knew this newborn girl for a few minutes, but she was always tied for the most beloved person in his heart: tied with you.

barou shouei

barou grew up with two younger sisters. he tolerated and loved them through temper tantrums, periods, puberty, boy heartbreak, and girl problems. he’s been changing their diapers, teaching them how to walk, feeding them, and cooking for them ever since they were infants.

so why was he so nervous about his own daughter, who was soon to be born?

barou didn’t tremble as he waited outside of the door, nor did he cry when he heard your wails and moans of unease. however, he was awfully stiff and overly snappy, even for barou. even when his beloved sisters tried to talk to him to ask about you and your soon to be born daughter, barou was practically already yelling.

when barou’s mother tried to calm him, barou couldn’t bring himself to reply, knowing that he would say rude things that he would regret later on to his own mother. he’d rather not risk it, and instead just nodded, trying to believe that you’re okay in there and that you’re trying your best, which he knows you are.

when the wails of a newborn baby daughter reached barou’s ears, he pushed open the door without even using the handle and instantly stood by your side.

“are you okay? was it too bad?” barou knew that he was being weirdly gentle, but how could he not when his wife just gave birth? you were pale, panting, and beads of sweat rolled down your face and neck, but you were still drop dead gorgeous in barou’s opinion.

“no, not at all.” you whispered. “you know what they said? they said that she’s one of the healthiest they’ve ever seen, maybe the the healthiest. you really did spoil and pamper me during the pregnancy, huh?”

“well, what else was i supposed to do? mistreat you? im not heartless.” a nearby nurse offered barou to hold his daughter, in which he accepted. same colored hair as him, and when she looked up, the same ruby red eyes as him. only difference? her eyes were soft and full of warmth like yours.

barou didn’t think that anything could ever be more perfect than you, but maybe he just found a tie.

[kaira-diaries]

Backstabber:

⚠️: Smut || Violence || death || description of blood || life threatening illness

wc: 15k …

pairing: fem!reader x In-ho

a/n: so the length is…something. This loosely follows the games of season two. LOOSELY !!

I hope you all enjoy, happy reading!!

summary: A young woman finds herself desperate when her family falls into crushing medical debt. Seeking a way out, she enters the deadly Squid Games. Unbeknownst to her, the enigmatic Frontman—her boyfriend of three years, disguising himself as Player 001 and in deep debt, enters the game to protect her, navigating the brutal competition while concealing his true identity from her.

-> Masterlist <-

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

Aware of every breath and movement, you were pinned down as In-ho finally peeled away your warm sweater, a contrast to the frigid temperature in his bedroom, completely naked before him and he before you.

However all you could feel was his soft lips against your chest, leaving you breathless as he pushed in and out of you with blinding pleasure and strength. His kisses were anything but gentle as you locked your legs around his muscled back, pulling him closer, and he groaned in delight at such a position, dragging his perfect teeth up your neck and eventually reconnecting with your mouth.

You'd been holding onto the weight of a conversation you needed to have with him, the one about your father's medical illness and the mounting medical debt that was dragging your parents under like a relentless tide. You've kept it from him for a while. Was it out of shame? You didn't quite know, but it didn't seem like the kind of conversation to strike up while his tongue worked between your legs, making a mess on the edge of the dining room table. He was on you the moment you got home and after the long day you had, you needed it. 

Freeing him from your grip, you pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him, aching for control, something you've had to fight for with him the moment you began seeing each other. A look of disapproval shined in his eyes, but you pressed your palms against his warm chest, earning a scowl of impatience. You innocently smile, beginning to rock your hips. He held you, his grip like iron, as he watched you use him to reach your peak. With your head thrown back, his hands explored every inch of your chest; squeezing and grabbing at everything he possibly could. His grip on you was as tight as he could make it without hurting you, something he worries so much about. 

Mumbling sweet praises up at you, you whined, picking up the pace. 

"Fuck you're so beautiful riding my cock." He praised, almost making you shatter, and you would have right then and there until your phone began to buzz on the wooden nightstand next to his head. Your movements came to a sudden stop, making In-ho groan, "ignore it," he pleaded, but it was your mother's icon. 

With the weight of your father's illness in mind, you pulled off him. 

"It'll just take a second." You promised, answering the phone, trying to ignore the slow touch of In-ho's hand caressing your back and his lips sucking the skin of your neck. You slapped him. 

"Hi, everything okay? it's late."

Your mother's panicked voice crackled through the phone, her voice trembling with raw fear. "Y/n, you need to come to the hospital now. I-I don't-"

"Ma, I'll be there," you interrupted, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Just stay calm." You hung up without waiting for more, already throwing the blanket aside as you scrambled out of bed. 

"What’s going on? What's wrong?" In-ho's voice cut through the chaos, his concern evident as he sat up, his brows furrowed. 

Your mind raced, and the first excuse that came to you spilled out in a rush. "Something's wrong with the cat." You blurted, the lie feeling ridiculous even as you said it. Your shaky hands pulled on a sweater, jeans, and some boots, the urgency in your movements selling the story better than the words ever could. 

"What? the fucking cat? What happened?" In-ho looked confused but didn't question further as you fumbled to explain. "Their car's in the shop, and they can't get to the emergency vet. I have to go."

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, the sheets pooling around his waist. "I'll take you." 

"No!" you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended. The tension in the room palpable as his eyes searched your face for an explanation. 

One thing about In-ho: he never questioned you, and right now, you were grateful for that. "Okay." He said. "Just be careful." 

You nodded quickly, not trusting yourself to say more. Grabbing your keys and bag, you bolted for the door, your thoughts racing faster than your feet. The hallway felt suffocating as you sprinted to your car, your breath coming in shallow bursts. 

Sliding into the driver's seat, your hands trembled as you turned the key into the ignition. The engine roared to life but didn't drown out the panic in your mind. What could have happened? Was it worse than you feared? 

The rain from earlier had left the streets slick, and your headlights reflected off the wet pavement as you sped toward the hospital. You tried to steady your breathing, gripping the wheel so tightly your knuckles turned white. Every red light felt like a personal attack, each second dragging on like an eternity. 

Finally, you pulled into the hospital parking lot, barely bothering to park straight as you threw the car into park and leaped out. The fluorescent lights of the emergency entrance cast an unnatural glow over the scene, and the antiseptic smell hit you as soon as you stepped inside. 

Your eyes darted around the waiting room until they landed on your mother. She was sitting in one of the plastic chairs, her face pale, her hands squeezing a tissue. 

"Mom!" you called out, rushing to her. She looked up, her eyes red and puffy, and the sight of her broke something inside. 

"Y/n..." she began, her voice trembling as fresh tears spilled over. "Its your father. They-they said he's in critical condition. The doctors are with him now, but-" Her voice cracked, and she covered her mouth, unable to finish. 

You crouched down in front of her, taking in her hands in yours. “Ma, I'm here. I'm here, okay? We'll get through through this." Your voice was firm, but your stomach churned with dread. 

As you comforted her, a nurse approached, asking if you were your father's family. You stood up, your thudding in your chest. "Yes, I'm his daughter. What's going on?" The nurse hesitated, her expression grave. "The doctor would like to speak with you. Please follow me."

Your mother let out a soft sob as you squeezed her hand reassuringly. "I'll be right back, Ma," you whispered before following the nurse down the cold, sterile hallway. Each step felt heavier than the last as you approached the room where your father's fate would be revealed. 

The nurse led you to a small consultation room, where a doctor in scrubs was waiting, his face lined with exhaustion. He stood as you entered, his expression grim but composed.

"It's good to meet you, I'm Dr. Patel," he said, gesturing for you to sit. You barely registered the gesture, standing frozen as your pulse thundered in your ears.

"What's wrong with my father?" you demanded, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep steady.

Dr. Patel exhaled softly, his shoulders sagging under the weight of what he was about to say. "Your father's condition has taken a critical turn. His heart is failing rapidly, and the medications we've been using to manage his symptoms are no longer enough. He's in cardiogenic shock."

You blinked, the words slow to register. "What does that mean? Can you fix it?"

The doctor's lips pressed into a thin line. "The only long-term solution is a heart transplant. Without it, I'm afraid he doesn't have much time—maybe days, a week at most."

The air seemed to vanish from the room. You shook your head, trying to process. "A transplant? How... how soon could he get one?"

Dr. Patel hesitated, his gaze softening. "It's complicated. He'll need to be placed on the transplant list, and even then, matching him with a donor can take time. There's also the matter of cost. Even with insurance, the out-of-pocket expenses can be significant."

Your stomach twisted into knots. "How significant?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Typically, upwards of $150,000 for surgery, post-op care, and medications," he replied gently.

Your heart sank. You felt like the floor had dropped out from under you. "I can't… we can't afford that. Even with insurance, we're already drowning in medical debt. How am I supposed to…" Your voice cracked, and tears spilled over despite your effort to hold them back.

Dr. Patel leaned forward, his voice kind but firm. "I know it's overwhelming, but there are programs and organizations that can help. I can connect you with our financial counselor to explore options. Right now, focus on being here for your father."

You nodded numbly, standing on unsteady legs. "Can I see him?"

"Of course. He's sedated, but you can sit with him."

The walk to your father's room felt surreal, the hospital corridors stretching endlessly. When you stepped inside, the sight of him hit you like a punch to the chest. He lay still, pale and fragile, tubes and monitors surrounding him. The steady beeping of the machines was the only sound in the room.

You moved to his bedside, taking his hand in yours. His skin was cold, and the weight of his hand in yours felt too light, too fragile.

"Hey, Dad," you said softly, your voice breaking. "It's me."

Your thumb traced over the back of his hand as you blinked away fresh tears. "They said you need a new heart," you whispered, choking on the words. "And I know you probably don't want me worrying about it, but I'm going to fix this. I swear I'll find the money, no matter what. I'll get you what you need."

You leaned down, pressing a kiss to his temple. "You just hang on, okay? Just hang on."

The room was silent except for the rhythmic beeping of the monitors, but your resolve solidified with every passing second. No matter how impossible it seemed, you would find a way to save him. 

Whatever it took.

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

Your hands were frigid, the cold from last night's visit at the hospital still clinging to you as you sat in the dimly lit coffee shop. The air smelled faintly of roasted coffee and winter rain, but none of it brought comfort. Across the small table, In-ho sat rigid, his shoulders drawn tight like a bowstring. His expression was a mask of unreadable calm, but his eyes—those lifeless, glassy eyes—made your stomach churn. There was no warmth in them, no spark of humanity like normal. Just emptiness. You swallowed hard, fighting the instinct to shiver under his gaze.

It happened every year around this time, right before his business trip. Yet somehow, it never got easier. That hollow, dead look in his eyes unsettled you more than you wanted to admit, leaving a weight on your chest like a stone sinking in water. He always returned, but the man who sat before you now was different—a stranger wearing the face of someone you loved.

Cupping your warm mug of coffee, you took a tentative sip, hoping the heat would chase away the chill that wasn't from the weather.

"How long will you be gone this time?" you asked, keeping your voice steady despite the unease bubbling under your skin.

"A week or so," he replied plainly, his tone deeper than usual and flat, devoid of emotion.

You nodded, forcing yourself not to press him further. He never shared much about these trips, and you'd learned to stop asking. But this—this lifeless version of him he always snaps into—terrified you in a way you could never quite explain.

He was scheduled to leave today after your coffee date, which explained the gel in his hair and the matching grey outfit he wore, fit for the cold weather. He looked good, but you adored his messy hair. You loved running your fingers through it during sex or washing it while in the shower. It was one of your favorite things about him, the second being his age. You were always into older guys. Despite being 25, men your age still had some maturing to do, so you decided never to dabble with them altogether. Time was precious. 

You traced the edge of your coffee cup with your finger, trying to fill the silence. It stretched thin between you, like a thread about to snap. 

"She's been calling me a lot lately." you said, attempting to steer the conversation toward something lighter. "Mina, I mean. She's gotten into some trouble again." 

In-ho's gaze shifted slightly, though his expression remained impassive. "Drinking?"

"And gambling, she's been asking for money," you added with a faint, humorless chuckle.

"Apparently, she lost a month’s rent at that underground poker game she swore she'd never go back to."

His jaw tightened, just for a second quick. You almost missed it. "The one near the station, right? The one run by that man who drives the black sedan."

Your brow furrowed as you stared at him. "How did you know that?" In-ho's expression didn't waver. "You said she was into underground games," he replied, shrugging. "I've seen people like that around. They're dangerous."

The explanation was reasonable, and you opened your mouth to change the subject, but he checked his watch and stood. 

"I should get going," he said, his voice flat. 

You stood as well, the knot in your stomach tightening. "Be safe," you said softly. 

He nodded, leaning in to press a cool, detached kiss to your lips. It was brief, almost mechanical, and it left you feeling colder than before, but it was the same around this time every year. "I'll see you when I get back," he said, his hand briefly brushing your arm before he turned to leave. 

As you watched him walk out into the gray morning, your thoughts lingered on his odd familiarity with Mina's troubles. Something didn't add up, but the question lingered unspoken on your tongue, lost in the wake of his retreating figure.

The bitter dregs of your now-cold coffee lingered on your tongue as you forced down the last bites of a stale croissant, its once-flaky layers now reduced to a dense, chewy mass.

The contrast between this hurried breakfast and the elegant comfort of In-ho's apartment wasn't lost on you—each step toward the train platform felt like moving further from a dream back into your harsh reality.

The morning crowd jostled around you as you weaved between commuters, scanning for an empty seat while waiting. The number "150,000" pulsed in your mind like a neon sign, growing larger and more oppressive with each passing moment. It was a sum so vast it seemed almost abstract—like counting stars in the sky—yet the weight of its importance pressed down on your chest with very real pressure.

Finding an empty bench away from the crowd, you hugged yourself tightly, your fingers digging into the fabric of your jacket. The fluorescent station lights cast shallow shadows under your eyes, and you barely recognized the exhausted person staring back.

Your father's time was running out like sand in an hourglass, and here you sat, drowning in the knowledge that your family's existing debts were already a noose around your neck. Each potential solution you considered crumbled before it could fully form—loan sharks were out of the question, banks would laugh at your application, and friends... well, who among them could even spare a fraction of such an amount? Mina sure as hell couldn't.

It's then a well-groomed man sits beside you. His hair gelled back, similar to In-ho's. You felt his gaze on you, but you tried to ignore it until it became extremely uncomfortable.

Snapping your chin in his direction, you broke.

"What?"

"Hello ma'am, can I talk to you?"

You sighed as he continued.

"Listen, I want to let you in on a great opportunity." You stared down at your hands, not saying a word, when he opened a suitcase beside you.

Looking down at it, you find the game Ddakji next to three stacks of neatly piled money. You perked up a bit at that. The money wasn't enough to pay for the transplant, but it was a cushioned start.

"I'm sure you've played Ddakji before, right?" You nodded.

In-ho appreciated the game.

He held up the two squares, one red and one blue. "Play a few rounds with me. And each time you win, I'll pay you a 1,000. Each time I win you, you pay me the same amount." You bit your lip, feeling how stupid this was. In-ho would tell you to turn and walk away, and you wondered if this man was from that underground poker place Mina indulged in. But, stupid or not, you needed that money for your father.

Exhaling sharply, you agreed but warned the man.

"I don't have any money to spare." It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't true either. You had a decent income, but all of your money either went to paying off your parent's medical debt or to your father's treatments when you were able to pay out of pocket.

He held that same creepy grin, "How about you use your body to pay." You froze, your heart pounding in your chest as the words hit you like a slap. What did that entail? A chill ran down your spine, the blood draining from your face as you felt your breath catch in your throat. For a moment, you felt yourself sliding toward the edge of the bench, your limbs numb with terror.

The man, noticing your reaction, quickly shook his hands. "Not like that, no. I'll take 100 off per each slap to the face."

If a slap was the price to pay for losing, then you would endure it. For your father. You clenched your fists tightly, the memory of his quiet suffering and his desperate need for help fueling the burning determination inside you. You would do anything to protect him, even if it meant bearing humiliation, pain, or worse.

Anything.

You stood from the bench with a sense of purpose, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The salesman rose with you, his smile still wide, but there was a subtle shift in his demeanor—something darker, more guarded—as you reached for your red ddakji. Without hesitation, you slammed it down onto the floor, the force of your movement sending it crashing against his, the paper flipping with a satisfying snap. You didn't just win; you dominated, the sound echoing in the still air.

A small wad of cash landed in your palm, the crisp bills a reminder of the stakes, the desperation that had brought you here. Your pulse quickened, the fear dissipating with each flip of the ddakji, each round stacking your winnings higher. The salesman's smile faltered, but you didn't care. You were in control now. The game was simple, but the stakes—your father's fate were anything but.

Round after round, you flipped his every time, effortlessly outplaying him, earning more money than you'd ever imagined in such a short span. The cash piled up between you like a small mountain, but you didn't stop. You couldn't stop. Each win felt like a victory but also like a countdown to something darker, something you weren't sure you were ready for.

Finally, you sat back down, your breathing steady as you finished the game. The salesman handed you a card, its front emblazoned with three distinct shapes, each one sharp and clean, almost menacing. You flipped it over, the number on the back staring up at you—simple, unremarkable, but somehow heavy.

"There are other games like this," he said, his voice dropping slightly as if the offer itself was something that shouldn't be spoken too loudly. "Where you can earn even more."

His gaze held yours for a beat too long. The words lingered, tempting and ominous in their simplicity.

"We don't have many spots left." He added, a subtle edge creeping into his voice as he picked up his briefcase, the leather creaking under his grip. Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving you alone with the card, the money, and the quiet hum of uncertainty settling in your chest.

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

POV: In-Ho

You sat at your desk, the glass of imported whiskey sloshing as you threw back the fifth pour, barely noticing as the amber liquid burned down your throat. The decanter was nearing empty, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. The quiet hum of the room was the only sound, and it settled you in a way nothing else could. Leaving y/n had always been difficult, but that was part of the game, wasn't it? Every year, it was the same—her muted resistance to your sudden change in demeanor, but every year, you also found yourself relieved to return to control, to snap back into that power you craved at your fingertips, to something that mattered all the same. Here, you were just mechanical; any genuine feeling of devotion dwindled until you returned home to her.

You leaned back in your chair, the leather creaking under your weight. The time you spent with y/n—it was never enough. And the more you tried to balance it with the games, the more you realized how impossible it truly was.

It was easy to pawn off the useless responsibilities to an underling, to let someone else handle the messes or orders that were beneath you. You had never cared about choosing the players. It was a waste of time. They were all the same to you: pathetic, greedy souls who saw the world through a selfish lens of self-interest.

Getting a phone call, you grabbed the receiver.

"This is The Frontman speaking. Yes, we are ready to begin."

You set the receiver back down, the soft click of the phone's cradle cutting through the heavy silence of the room. Without a second glance, you reached for the mask resting on the edge of the desk, its cool surface like a familiar presence. Your fingers brushed against the contours, feeling its weight and its unspoken authority. With deliberate ease, you secured it in place, the cold, smooth material pressing against your skin as your identity vanished beneath its form and lifted your hood.

You stood and moved toward the door, your footsteps controlled and purposeful. The air seemed to thicken around you as you passed through the threshold, a shift in atmosphere marking the change. The elevator was waiting—silent, steel, and patient. With a practiced motion, you pressed the central control room button, the elevator's quiet hum responding to your command. The walls around you seemed to close in as you descended. You were going to the heart of it all now, where the control pulse beat steady and unyielding. And there, you would resume your place.

The elevator doors slid open with a quiet, effortless motion, revealing the sterile, dimly lit expanse of the control room. Your men, standing at attention, parted like the Red Sea, clearing your path. They were all towering figures, silhouettes in the shadiness of the room, their presence unwavering and mute. As you stepped out onto the cold, polished floor, you felt the shift—the room realigning as though the game had officially begun.

You glanced at each man in turn, your eyes sharp, and you calculated behind the mask, assessing every one of them with practiced ease. They stood frozen, their posture rigid, hands at their sides, waiting for your next command. You could almost feel the anticipation in the air, stout and expectant.

"Let's start," you said, your voice cold, clipped and filtered. The words carved through the silence. Without hesitation, the men moved to their stations, their bodies sliding into their chairs with precise, mechanical ease. There was no wasted motion, no hesitation.

"Wake them up."

The room came alive, the screens flickering to life one by one. The quiet hum of machinery filled the air, a low, steady rhythm as the monitors illuminated, casting a cold glow on the walls. The lights in the player's quarters were activated, brightening the room as a spokesperson illustrated it was time to wake up.

You stalked closer to the screens, trying to get a sense of the new herd. Your gaze exhausts each face as they adjust, blinking groggily, some still lost in the fog of sleep. You monitored the strongest as they rose quicker, as the weakest fought off the remaining effects of the sedative.

Abruptly, it felt like the air had been punched out of your lungs, your heart plummeting into the pit of your stomach with a force that left you momentarily paralyzed. Your gaze locked onto the screen, catching something—someone—that sent a chill racing down your spine. At first, you thought it couldn't be real, that your mind was playing cruel tricks on you. But the unease clawed at you, refusing to be dismissed.

"Focus in on player 150," you ordered sharply, your voice slicing through the tense silence in the room.

The screen obeyed, zooming in on the figure until every detail came into agonizing clarity. And then you saw her.

Your breath hitched. Her messy bedhead—the kind you used to tease her about—was unmistakable. She stretched her arms above her head, a familiar routine you'd witnessed countless mornings. Her flawless lips, her face, her eyes. Every inch of her was burned into your memory, and now, there she was.

Standing in the middle of your slaughterhouse.

The woman you've bared your soul to.

"Y/n," you whispered, your voice barely audible, strangled with disbelief and fear. Panic gnawed at your insides, twisting and tightening until it felt like your very core would shatter.

How had she ended up here?

What is she keeping from you?

Of all the people, of all the possibilities—why her?

___________________________

POV: Y/N

The first thing you noticed as you stirred was the faint hum of distant sounds. Your sense of hearing returned before anything else, pulling you from the haze of sleep. You groaned softly, rubbing your eyes as the world around you came into focus.

Fragments of memory surfaced, disjointed but vivid—the musty smell of the van, the creak of its rusted doors, the tattered upholstery that looked like it had seen far too many years. You had hesitated, your hand hovering over the handle, your instincts screaming at you to turn around and walk away. The vehicle was a wreck, the kind of thing you'd imagine a junkie—no offense—might live out of.

But then you thought of your father. His face, his struggle, the weight of it all. That single thought was enough to override your doubts. You had climbed into the van despite every instinct telling you to do otherwise.

Sitting up, you took in your unfamiliar surroundings, momentarily distracted by the nagging awareness of your terrible bedhead. In-ho always teased you about it, though deep down, you suspected he secretly liked it.

Swinging your legs over the edge of the cot, you paused as your fingers brushed against the fabric of what you were wearing. A pajama-like tracksuit, simple yet strange. Your gaze dropped to your chest, where a number—150—was neatly sewn over your left breast.

You frowned, your brows knitting together. "What the hell?" you whispered under your breath.

Looking around, the murmur of movement drew your attention. Other people—strangers—were stirring, dressed in identical tracksuits with different numbers stitched onto their chests. They began to gather hesitantly in the center of the vast room, their expressions mirroring your confusion and unease.

The room itself was massive, stark, and cold, resembling a warehouse stripped of purpose. Above you, suspended ominously from the ceiling, hung an enormous glass piggy bank—empty but somehow radiating a strange sense of suspicion.

Your muscles ached, a dull soreness settling into your body as you stretched your arms overhead, trying to shake off the lingering stiffness, and stood to join the pack of people. The air was heavy, thick with tension and the quiet rustle of fabric as the other players moved cautiously, their faces tight with uncertainty.

As you loosened up, your eyes flicked back to the piggy bank, unease pooling in your stomach. Whatever was happening here, it was far from ordinary—and the number stitched onto your chest felt like it was branding you into something you didn't yet understand.

“Y/n!”

The sound of your name rang out, cutting through the murmurs around you. Your head snapped up, scanning the sea of unfamiliar faces until your eyes locked onto someone you knew—a lifeline in the chaos.

"Oh my God, Y/n!"

It was Mina. Your Mina. Her face lit up with that unmistakable grin, even as the bold 067 stitched across her chest seemed wildly out of place. Relief flooded you, and without thinking, you bolted toward your best friend, your heart leaping in your chest.

"Mina!" you shouted, skidding to a stop just before throwing your arms around her neck. She caught you with a squeal, pulling you into a tight hug as you both burst into a flurry of half-laughs, half-cries.

"What the hell are you doing here, you bitch?" she blurted, pulling back just enough to hold your shoulders, her grin a mix of disbelief and sheer joy.

You laughed, shaking your head. "I could ask you the same thing!"

For a moment, the strangeness of the situation melted away. The towering walls, the eerie piggy bank above, the sea of strangers—all of it faded into the background. Because right now, in this surreal hell, you weren't alone.

Mina shrugged nonchalantly, her lips twitching into a crooked grin. "What can I say? It seems like my hobbies have gotten me into trouble again. Only this time..." She gestured vaguely to the massive, ominous piggy bank hanging above, her tone dripping with mock cheerfulness. "...the stakes are just a little higher."

Your brows furrowed, a sinking feeling settling in your chest. "Oh god, Mina. What did you do?"

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, biting her lip in that telltale way that meant she was about to drop a bombshell. "Well," she started, drawing out the word like she was recounting a funny anecdote, "I kind of... might've signed my physical rights away."

Your stomach flipped. "Excuse me?"

"Yup." She nodded, her voice light, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of unease. "If I don't cough up what I owe by next month, I can kiss a kidney goodbye." She gave you a sly grin, trying to downplay the gravity of her words. "On the bright side, I've always wanted to know what it feels like to live with just one."

Your hand shot up to cover your mouth, your heart pounding in disbelief. "Mina...surely you're joking?"

She shook her head, the grin never entirely leaving her face. "Afraid not, babe. But hey, at least this mess has good storytelling potential, right?"

"Mina!" you exclaimed, punching her shoulder. She laughed, though it came out slightly strained. "What? It's not like I can do anything about it now. Besides, kidneys are overrated anyway."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Mina, could you please stop giving me reasons to worry?"

She gave you a sheepish grin, her shoulder bumping yours playfully. "I'll try, but no promises." Then, her expression shifted, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. "What about you?" she asked, folding her arms. "Why are you here? And where's that delicious boyfriend of yours?"

Your cheeks warmed slightly, and before you could stop yourself, you swatted her arm, a soft snicker escaping. "He's on a business trip," you said, trying to sound casual. "Probably miles away from this place."

You turned your head toward her, but the knowing look in her eyes stopped you short. She tilted her chin, her gaze sharpening. "Uh-huh. But you didn't answer my other question."

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, the humor between you flickered, replaced by something heavier. Her gaze stayed steady, probing, as if she could see right through you.

A sharp, jarring buzz suddenly filled the air, slashing through the low murmurs in the room. You flinched at the sound, your heart skipping a beat as all heads turned toward the massive double doors at the far end of the room.

With a mechanical hiss, the doors slid open in perfect synchronization, revealing a line of figures that marched in with unnerving precision. They wore identical uniforms—a stark, unnatural shade of pink that contrasted sharply against the cold gray of the warehouse walls.

Their faces were entirely hidden behind black, featureless masks adorned with bold, white shapes: circles, triangles, and squares, just like the strange card you'd been handed by that man.

The sight sent a shiver racing down your spine. The guards moved with eerie coordination, their presence suffocating and cold, as if they were more machine than human. The room seemed to shrink under their gaze—or what you assumed was their gaze, though the masks gave away nothing.

"I'd like to extend my warmest welcome to you all."

"Everyone here will participate in six different games over the next six days. Those who win all six games will recieve a handsome cash prize." One of the guards stepped forward, his voice sharp and authoritative as it rang out, though it was muffled slightly by the mask. You strained to make out the words, but before you could process them, a man standing near the front of the group raised his voice, cutting through the tension.

"Why the hell should we trust you?" he shouted, his tone laced with anger and desperation. His words hit a chord, murmurs of agreement rippling through the players around you. It wasn't an unreasonable question—after all, you'd been drugged and dragged here against your will.

Your chest tightened as you remembered the van, the haze, the disorientation of waking up in this strange, sterile place. Beside you, Mina suddenly grabbed your hand, her fingers lacing tightly with yours. Her grip was firm, almost crushing, and when you glanced at her, her wide eyes told you she was just as terrified as you were.

The guard's reply came swift and clinical, delivered without an ounce of emotion. He mentioned something about a consent form, the words rolling off his tongue with practiced ease as though this wasn't the first time he'd said them. His tone made it clear there was no room for negotiation.

Your stomach churned as the players began to shuffle forward hesitantly, forming a disjointed line. Each person who stepped up was handed a pen and a sheet of paper, the details too far away to make out. The tension in the room was noticeable, every movement slow and deliberate, as if everyone knew they were crossing a threshold they could never return from.

When your turn came, you stepped forward on shaky legs, Mina's hand slipping from yours as she stayed rooted in place. You barely noticed her whispered "Y/n…" as you reached for the pen.

The words on the page blurred before your eyes. You couldn't bring yourself to read the fine print—it didn't matter. You already knew why you were here.

Your hand trembled slightly as you signed your name, the black ink cutting starkly against the crisp white paper. Whatever this was, whatever it demanded of you, your mind was made up. You'd get that money no matter what it took.

As you turned away, clutching the pen tightly, your heart felt like a drum pounding in your chest. Behind you, Mina's gaze burned into your back, her silence louder than any words she could've spoken.

As the last of the players signed their names, the guards gestured for everyone to move, their silent presence ushering the group out of the dorms and into a large, clean hall. The air was cool and clinical, the kind of atmosphere that sent a shiver up your spine despite the lack of overt threat.

One by one, each player stood in front of a sleek screen where their photo was taken. Mina, of course, couldn't resist making a ridiculous face, puffing out her cheeks and crossing her eyes as the camera clicked.

You doubled over, a genuine belly laugh escaping your lips, the sound echoing faintly in the vast hall. For a fleeting moment, it felt like old times, like the world wasn't crumbling around you.

As the line moved, you and Mina ended up side by side, trailing behind the group as you ascended a winding staircase. The metal stairs clanged beneath your feet, the sound rhythmic and oddly calming despite the tension in the air.

"So," Mina drawled, nudging your shoulder with hers, her grin mischievous. "Fill me in. How's it been going with In-ho?"

A warmth spread through you at the mention of his name, and you couldn't help the soft smile that tugged at your lips. "He's been… amazing," you admitted, your voice almost wistful.

Mina hummed knowingly, her grin widening. "I see. And the sex?" she asked, her tone teasing as her brows waggled suggestively.

You groaned, rolling your eyes. "Ugh, Mina, quit being gross. Let's focus on the game ahead."

She threw her hands up in mock surrender, snickering. "Alright, alright. I'll save it for later," she said, her tone light but her eyes scanning the room ahead, where more guards waited in eerie silence.

As the two of you continued up the staircase, her humor lingered like a comforting presence, a small anchor in the chaos. You couldn't help but feel grateful for her, even if she drove you nuts.

Turning the final corner, you stepped into a vast, open space that made you stop in your tracks. The ground beneath your feet was soft sand, its golden grains warm as they shifted with each step. Overhead, artificial sunlight bore down with an intensity that made you squint, the air thick with the illusion of a desert afternoon.

“Wow,” Mina muttered, her tone a mix of awe and unease. She kicked at the sand lightly, watching it scatter. “This is… interesting.”

You nodded, your eyes scanning the expanse of the room. It felt surreal—like stepping into another world completely removed from the cold, metallic dorms. The space stretched endlessly in all directions, its vastness unsettling.

As you wandered further in, something across the way caught your eye. Narrowing your gaze, you nudged Mina in the arm, breaking her attention away from the boy she had been half-flirting with beside her.

“What?” she asked, frowning slightly.

“What’s that?” you said, pointing toward a shape in the distance.

Her eyes followed your arm, squinting against the glaring light. When she finally spotted it, her expression twisted into a mixture of curiosity and discomfort. “It looks like…” she hesitated, leaning in slightly, “a creepy doll.”

Your stomach churned as you took in the eerie figure. Even from a distance, something about it felt wrong.

Before you could respond, a sharp, mechanical crackle echoed through the air, making you flinch. A smooth, automated female voice spoke over the intercom, its tone disturbingly cheerful.

“Welcome to the game room. For your first game, you will be playing Red Light, Green Light.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Red Light, Green Light?” you muttered, glancing at Mina with an incredulous smile. “You’ve got to be kidding. A children’s game?”

Mina shrugged, her lips quirking into a half-smile. “What? Would you rather play chess?”

You snorted softly, shaking your head. “Definitely not.”

The voice on the intercom continued, reciting the rules with an unnerving precision that made the simplicity of the game feel sinister. “When the doll says, ‘Green Light,’ you may move forward. When the doll says, ‘Red Light,’ you must stop immediately. Any players caught moving during ‘Red Light’ will be eliminated.”

The word eliminated lingered in your mind, sending a cold chill down your spine.

When the announcement ended, a sudden, oppressive silence settled over the room. The guards lined the edges of the space, their presence a stark reminder that this was no ordinary game.

Mina reached for your hand, gripping it tightly. “We stick together, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered, lacing your fingers with hers. Despite your nervousness, her touch grounded you, giving you a flicker of reassurance.

The two of you exchanged a nod, solidifying your pact, before turning your focus toward the looming doll in the distance. The game was about to begin, and there was no turning back now.

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

POV: In-Ho

You could hardly bear to watch.

Your heart throbbed in your chest, a suffocating pressure building as your mind screamed with one agonizing question: What if she dies?

The thought hit you like a sucker punch, the weight of it crushing your ribs, stealing the air from your lungs. If she died—if she dies—you’d be left with nothing. Nothing but the hollow emptiness of a life that had lost its purpose, your balance between light and dark. There would be no going back. No reason to move forward. You'd be a shell, wandering through a world that suddenly felt unbearable.

The air in your quarters felt thick as if the very walls were closing in on you. You couldn’t stand still, couldn’t think clearly. You paced back and forth, each step fraying your nerves further. Your breath came in ragged gasps, shallow and fast, desperate for relief that never came.

You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t—

The glass in your hand was warm, the drink inside it burning your throat with its bitter sting. And without thinking, you hurled it across the room, the sharp crash of glass against the wall.

For a split second, you stood frozen, staring at the mess. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

Your chest tightened painfully, each breath harder to take than the last. You couldn’t control it anymore—the rage, the fear, the overwhelming helplessness. You wanted to roar and tear this facility to shreds, but it was all out of your hands now.

A player could only be removed from the game if they're eliminated.

The glass shards glittered on the floor like the pieces of your shattered resolve as you stared into it, and all you could do was stand there, trembling, fighting against the suffocating tide of emotions threatening to drown you.

"Green Light,"

Your eyes locked onto the screen, your gaze trained on her every move. You circled the couch, your steps restless, like you couldn’t stand still even if you wanted to. Every muscle in your body was tense beneath the grey jacket. Every fiber of your being was focused on her.

You could see Mina beside her, their hands tightly clasped together. It almost felt like an anchor, a momentary reassurance—but not enough.

Not nearly enough.

You silently begged Mina—pleaded with her—to hold it together. To not screw this up.

If Mina stuttered, if she moved a fraction too soon, if she hesitated for even a second—y/n would follow. And that thought made something tighten painfully in your chest.

You could feel your pulse roaring in your ears, a fierce rush of adrenaline as the seconds stretched on like hours. Your hand itched to pry her fingers away from Mina’s, to pull her closer, to shield her from the inescapable bloodbath.  

"Red Light."

You exhaled sharply, your body going rigid as you watched her, your heart skipping a beat. Her number hadn’t been called, but the terror that played across her face as she witnessed the eliminations around her carved a hollow, painful hole in your chest.

She stood there, frozen, her eyes wide with raw fear as bodies dropped one by one, their lives snuffed out in an instant.

The sound of each shot rang out like a death knell, each one making her flinch, the horror of it all consuming her.

The games were necessary, but you never wanted y/n within a mile of them, and she didn't deserve a spot. She didn't deserve this.

You couldn’t bear it as guilt flooded your head, asking yourself how you could let this happen. How you could be so oblivious. How you could be so careless.

Your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you rubbed your thumb over your lip, trying to steady your breath, but the panic was suffocating. She was scared, and you could see the paralyzing dread in her eyes as the remaining rounds went on.

Your torture had ended as she and Mina made it across safely, allowing your body to release tension.

Your mind raced, every thought swirling with desperation as you considered all the ways you could protect her. Every option seemed dangerous, every move a step closer to exposing yourself to her. Your fingers ran through your gelled hair, the tension in your shoulders mounting. You knew the truth—if she found out... It would destroy her.

And that was far worse than the lie you were living now.

Your gut clenched bitterly as the weight of the situation sank deeper into your chest. She’d never understand. She couldn’t. No matter how you tried to explain it, the truth would damage her. And you weren’t sure if either of you could survive the aftermath.

You sank into the loveseat, your eyes shifting to the mirror ahead of you. The reflection staring back was unrecognizable.

The image in the glass shattered every preconceived idea of who you were supposed to be in this place. The leader. The cold, calculating mastermind who pulled the strings from behind the scenes. The man who kept his emotions in check, who moved through the shadows without hesitation.

But now?

Now, you could feel the walls crumbling, the mask slipping off with each passing moment. The control you had so carefully cultivated was eroding, and it was because of her.

The realization hit you like a wrecking ball.

You were losing yourself to her—losing one of two things that had kept you alive this long. And the only reason you were willing to let it all slip was because of y/n. Because you didn’t want to watch her suffer, you didn’t want to see that terror in her eyes, knowing you're the cause.

A plan developed in your mind, sudden and dangerous. A twisted solution, but one that could save her.

You would have to enter the games.

For her.

And as the weight of that decision settled over you, you had an odd feeling that this was it. 

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

POV: Y/N

Your heart was in your throat, pounding so hard you thought it might burst.

Your legs gave out beneath you, trembling so violently that Mina had to grip your arm just to keep you upright. Her voice cracked as she shouted your name, her panic etching through the fog of your stunned silence. You couldn't move, couldn't breathe. You'd never seen someone die like that— so sudden, so violent. A clean shot, some might call it merciful. But there was nothing merciful about the way bodies crumpled to the ground, lifeless in an instant.

Now, back in the dorms, you leaned into Mina, your head heavy against her shoulder. Her breathing was ragged, her frame trembling beneath your touch, and for a moment, you felt like you were both about to shatter.

"So," Mina whispered, her voice raw and barely holding together. "If you lose the game….you die. The words hung in the air like a noose tightening around your neck. She tried to laugh, a sharp, bitter sound that made your stomach twist. "Quite the plot twist, huh?"

You jerked back, glaring at her through the blur of your tears. "Are you serious right now?"

"What else am I supposed to say?" She snapped, throwing up her hands. "We signed the damn contract, y/n. It's not like we didn't know there'd be consequences."

"Not like this," you muttered, your voice breaking as you clutched your knees.

Mina sighed, running a shaky hand through her hair. "What do you want me to say? Crying about it won't change anything. It won't bring those people back. It won't get us out of here."

Her words stung, sharp, and cruel, but you knew she was wrong. You bit down hard on your lip to keep from breaking apart completely. Crying wouldn't help. Begging wouldn't help. Whoever these people were, they weren't going to care about tears or fear. This wasn't just a game anymore—it was survival.

You sat silently next to Mina, absently picking at a loose thread on your shirt, your mind spinning in endless circles. The room felt suffocating.

Then you hear it—a voice you hadn't heard in what felt like forever.

"Y/n?"

The whisper of your name cut through the haze. Your head snapped up, and your heart dropped into your stomach. Standing in front of you was In-ho.

For a moment, you thought your eyes were playing cruel tricks on you. He looked exactly as you remembered—same disheveled hair, same piercing eyes. But his expression...it was off. Shock, disbelief, maybe even a glint of betrayal flickered across his face.

Your body moved before you could think. You pulled away from Mina, stumbling to your feet. Your legs felt weak, your breaths shallow, and every nerve in your body screamed that this couldn't be real.

"In-ho?" you choked out, your voice trembling.

Without a word, he closed the distance between you and wrapped his arms around you. The hug was tight, almost desperate, as though he needed to hold you as much as you needed to be held. His scent hit you like a jolt—so familiar, so grounding. It shattered the doubts swirling in your mind.

You froze, your arms hanging limply at your sides as the weight of his embrace pressed into you. Was this real? Could it be him? Tears blurred your vision as you returned the hug, clutching him like he might disappear if you let go. A broken sob tore from your throat.

But even as relief coursed through you, a shadow of doubt lingered, clawing at the edges of your mind. What was he doing here? Why now? And why did it feel like something was wrong?

Pulling back, In-ho's hands gripped your face tightly, his fingers trembling with barely contained fury. His eyes burned into yours, raw and piercing.

"What the hell are you doing here, y/n?" he demanded, his voice low and rough.

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. The tears you thought had subsided returned in full force, choking you. He guided you to sit, his movements sharp and forceful, like he was holding himself back from shaking you for answers.

You gulped for air, your chest heaving as you forced the words out. "My father… he's sick."

The admission felt small, fragile, and yet it hit him like a hammer. He exhaled sharply, the sound heavy with disbelief and frustration. His gaze dropped to the floor, his jaw clenching so tightly you thought he might snap.

Behind you, Mina shifted uncomfortably, her presence a tense reminder of the world around you.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he finally said, his voice strained, the anger giving way to something else—hurt.

Before you could answer, he swiped a thumb across your cheek, wiping away the tears with surprising tenderness. The contrast was jarring, his touch soft against the intensity of his gaze.

"I didn't want you to worry," you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper.

In-ho scoffed, pulling back as he ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. "You didn't want me to worry?" he repeated bitterly. "Do you even realize—" He cut himself off, shaking his head.

But your own questions burned too hot to stay buried. You leaned forward, your voice trembling but steady enough to challenge him. "Why are you here, In-ho? Why did you lie to me?"

His head snapped up at your words, his expression hardening into something unreadable. For a moment, you thought he might not answer, that he'd leave you to drown in your doubts. The silence was deafening, the weight of everything unsaid threatening to crush you both.

"I'm here because I didn't have a choice, y/n," he said, his voice low and strained. "The company…I put everything into it. I thought I could make it work. I thought I could save it."

He swallowed hard, his eyes darting away from yours. "But the debt...it swallowed me whole."

Your stomach twisted, the air suddenly too heavy to breathe. "Debt?" you repeated, your voice shaking.

He nodded, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "It got bad—worse than I ever let on. Loans, investors, deadlines. I tried everything to fix it, but nothing worked."

Your eyes filled with sorrow as you reached for his hand, your fingers trembling slightly as they intertwined with his.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice breaking under the weight of everything.

He huffed softly, his lips pressing into a thin line. "For what? I got myself into this."

You shook your head, gripping his hand a little tighter. "For everything. For keeping secrets, for the company. For getting ourselves into this mess."

In-ho's eyes softened, his resolve cracking just enough to let you see the pain behind it. He scooted, his free hand lifting to cup your cheek. His touch was warm, steadying you in a way words couldn't.

"I swear to you," he said, his voice low but filled with determination, "I'll keep you safe."

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes as a tear slipped free, wetting his palm. For a moment, the chaos and fear melted away, leaving only the connection between you.

"Everything I do," he continued, his voice softer now, almost reverent, "will be for you."

Your breath caught in your throat—until Mina's voice cut through the air.

"Okay, lovebirds, hate to interrupt your heartfelt moment," she said, leaning on her elbows, "but we're still stuck in a life-or-death situation. Maybe save the romantic monologues for after we survive?"

In-ho's eyes darted up to Mina, his expression instantly shifting from tender to thoroughly exasperated.

"Mina," he said flatly, his tone carrying the weight of someone barely holding onto their patience.

She flashed a wide, overly fake smile, tilting her head like she was posing for a sitcom. "Been a long time, hasn't it?"

In-ho's jaw tightened as he let out a sharp breath through his nose. "Not long enough," he muttered under his breath.

Mina, unfazed, grinned wider. "Oh, come on, don't act like you're not happy to see me. I bring joy wherever I go."

In-ho shot her a deadpan look. "Joy, or chaos?"

"Tomato, to-mah-to," she quipped, shrugging.

You tried to stifle a laugh, which only made In-ho shoot you a betrayed look. "You're laughing? Really?"

Mina threw her arm around your shoulder, grinning smugly.

"See? I'm a gift."

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

Meal time passed in a blur as you scarfed down a hard-boiled egg and a small cup of water. It wasn't much, but enough to stave off the gnawing hunger. In-ho, without hesitation, handed you his share, sliding the egg and water toward you with a sweet look in his eyes.

"You need it more than I do," he said simply, ignoring your protests. Mina, never one to let a moment pass with commentary, let out an exaggerated scoff, teasing In-ho and making her remark.

You shot her a glare, "Mina," you said with a sharp edge in your tone.

"Relax," she retorted, smirking as she propped her chin on her hand. "I'm just saying it's cute. Like a scene from a bad rom-com."

You placed a hand on In-ho's arm, silently urging him to let it go. Mina was a professional instigator, and her relentless jabs were as much a part of her personality as her quick wit. He huffed but turned his focus back to you, muttering something under his breath about how she'd been insufferable since the moment he met her.

Later, you lay curled up under the thin blanket on your assigned bed, its scratchy fabric doing little to shield you from the cold. The tension in the room felt slightly less suffocating with In-ho nearby. He'd managed to switch beds, though "convince" wasn't exactly the right word. You'd watched in uneasy silence as he cornered another player—a scrawny man with wide, fearful eyes—and murmured something low and dangerous. Whatever he said had sent the man scurrying away without a second thought.

You weren't sure how to feel about it. Grateful, maybe. Uneasy, definitely. But with In-ho so close, his steady breathing just within reach, you felt a rare sense of safety in a place where none should exist.

The stifling silence of the dorm settled over you as you tried to relax, but sleep remained evasive. The thin mattress beneath you felt harder with every passing moment, and a nagging pressure in your bladder made it impossible to find peace.

You sighed, rubbing your sweaty palms over your face before throwing the blanket off and slipping out of bed as quietly as you could. The cold floor sent a shiver through you as you tiptoed toward the heavy steel door.

With a hesitant knock, you waited, and after a moment, the small window slid open, revealing a pair of eyes behind an ominous black mask.

"I need to use the restroom, please," you whispered, your voice cracking slightly.

The guard's voice was mechanical and unyielding. "No one is permitted to leave during this hour."

You let out a frustrated sigh, shifting uncomfortably. "Please, it's an emergency."

The guard remained silent, and you opened your mouth to plead again when a voice from behind you called out.

"Let her out."

The command was sharp, cold, and filled with an authority that made the hairs on your neck stand on end. You froze, turning slightly to see In-ho standing a few steps away, his posture rigid and his eyes dark and unreadable.

The tone of his voice was unlike anything you'd ever heard from him before—calculated, commanding, chilling. It was the kind of voice that left no room for argument, and even the guard seemed to hesitate, the weight of the demand hanging in the air like a threat.

Your breath caught as the guard finally relented, sliding the door open with a reluctant nod towards In-ho. You glanced at him, his face shadowed by the dim light, and felt a strange mix of gratitude and unease settle in your chest.

The guard stepped aside, motioning for you to follow as the heavy steel door groaned open. You glanced back at In-ho, expecting him to stay behind, but he was already moving to fall into step beside you, his expression unreadable.

The cold air of the corridor hit you like a wall, sending a chill through your already tense frame. The guard's imposing presence loomed ahead, his boots echoing ominously against the concrete floor. You hesitated, then turned to In-ho, your voice low.

"You don't have to come with me, you know. I can take care of myself," you murmured your tone a mix of gratitude and concern.

His eyes flicked to yours briefly before scanning the dim hallway around you. The shadows seemed to shift and stretch with every step, making the atmosphere feel even heavier.

"I stay with you," he muttered, his voice quiet but firm, as though the walls themselves might be listening.

You noticed the way his shoulders remained taut, his movements calculated as if expecting danger at every corner. His eyes darted to the guard ahead, then back to you, and for a moment, you caught a glimpse of something deeper in his gaze.

He stayed close, his presence a shield against the unsettling stillness of the corridor.

Reaching the bathroom, you pushed the door open, feeling the cool air inside as it contrasted against the heat building in your chest. You stepped forward, but before you could make it inside, In-ho followed, his movements swift and deliberate. With a forceful push, he slammed the door shut behind him, trapping you between him and the wood.

You gasped, caught off guard by the sudden intensity of the situation. "What are you doing?" you started, but the words died in your throat.

In-ho didn't answer. Instead, he moved closer, his breath warm against your skin as he cupped your face with his hands. Before you could protest or fully understand what was happening, his lips crashed against yours, silencing everything around you.

For a moment, everything went still—your heartbeat, the weight of your breath, the tension in the air. Then, slowly, you let yourself sink into him, your body responding to his touch with a deep, aching need you hadn't even realized was there. You kissed him back with all the desperation and longing that had been building since the moment he left that coffee shop, your hands reaching up to pull him closer, craving the connection, the heat.

His lips were soft yet urgent, and the kiss deepened, a powerful force that seemed to push away everything else—the fear, the uncertainty, the danger. All that mattered in that moment was him and the way he made you feel safe. You hear the lock click, then feel the touch of In-ho's hand on your waist. You pull back, In-ho's lips working against your neck.

You chuckled, "We can't fuck in the bathroom," You choked as he bit your neck. "Says who?" he uttered against your skin. You smiled with a gasp, "The people that run this place." He only pulls you closer, scooping you into his arms. You look down at him, legs wrapped around his back, "don't worry about them."

Laying you gently on the nearest sink, you pulled him closer as he slid his hands under your shirt, cupping your breasts while sucking at your neck. You whined at the sensation, yanking his jacket and shirt off. You needed him.

Now.

"This is wrong," you arched into his touch as he squeezed. The thought of fucking in a place of death, a place of violence, chilled your spine.  

"Tell me to stop, then." He orders.

You couldn't find the words, thoughts drowned out by need—by desire, and you felt him smirk against your skin.

Reaching for the edges of your shirt, he lifted the fabric over your head, laying it behind you on the cold granite.

You ran your fingers through his hair, tugging at the silken strands as he groaned at the ache. You smiled, tugging his head back, attaching your lips and dragging your tongue to his jaw, his neck, his chest—anything and everything you could reach.

With one quick motion, he pulled you off the sink, turning you around and pushing you face-first into the sink. His palm held your head to the cool granite, keeping you in place. Your breath hitched as he pulled your pants down, taking your underwear with. His hands squeezed and grabbed at your ass before administering a sharp slap. You cried out as he leaned into your ear.

"You want me to fuck you?" You whined, your eyes closed, taking in the moment with him. "Fuck you so the guard outside knows who you belong to you?"

He tugged at his pants, removed them completely, and aligned himself to you. He pushed into you with a force that knocked the air from your lungs.  

Your neck was pulled at such an angle that you could see yourself in the mirror—cheeks red, lips puffy, and mouth agape as In-ho was mercilessly fucking you. Your hips ached from the force of hitting the counter, making you shriek. He groaned, "I missed you," he leaned forward again, and you grabbed at his neck behind you, pulling him closer.

You whined, "I-I think—" he grabbed at your jaw, "cum for me," he demanded, forcing your climax to shatter through you. Biting at your shoulder, he fucked you through it, reaching his peak a moment later.

As he slowed, he kept himself right where he was, wrapping his arms around your front and offering a sweet kiss to your cheek.

"That was fun, but I really need to pee." You whispered.

Sitting up slowly, you watched as In-ho moved around the small bathroom, his movements almost automated as he dressed. The sound of fabric rustling filled the silence, but inside, you felt anything but calm. A wave of guilt, heavy and suffocating, crashed over you, the weight of it pressing down on your chest.

What had you just done?

You both had fucked like everything was fine, like you were on some sort of carefree vacation, lost in the moment. But this wasn't a vacation. This wasn't a time for pleasure or escape. People were dying here—people you didn't know, people you'd likely never see again. And yet, you had let yourself indulge in something as fleeting and intimate as this as if nothing mattered. As if you were safe.

The realization hit you with sharp clarity. You were not safe.

You stood quickly, your hands shaking as you hurriedly slipped your shirt and pants back on. The fabric felt tight and foreign against your skin, as if you were suddenly aware of the gravity of every movement, every breath.

You glanced over at In-ho, who had stopped midway through shrugging into his jacket, his eyes narrowing slightly as he caught the change in your demeanor. His gaze softened, but the concern in his eyes only made the guilt in your stomach churn harder.

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

The next game arrived faster than you had anticipated, and the tension in your chest only deepened as you prepared yourself for whatever twisted challenge awaited. You instinctively attached yourself to In-ho, walking shoulder to shoulder with him, Mina's hand securely in yours. The three of you were a united front, or at least you tried to be. In-ho, however, refused to acknowledge it, his disdain for Mina simmering just beneath the surface, his gaze sharp and focused as he kept a distance between them.

Entering the game room, your breath caught at the sight before you: a massive merry-go-round, the painted horses eerily still, surrounded by a strange sense of foreboding. You couldn't help but glance around, trying to make sense of it all.

"Any ideas yet?" you asked Mina, but before she could respond, In-ho cut in with an air of certainty.

"Mingle," he said simply.

You turned toward him, a flicker of surprise in your eyes. "How are you so sure?"

Mina's brow furrowed with suspicion, matching your confused look as she eyed him closely. In-ho gave you both a quick glance before answering with a confidence that made your skin crawl.

"The rooms, the platform. It's obvious."

Without another word, he walked ahead, leaving you and Mina in his wake. Mina leaned in closer, her voice low, filled with an edge of concern.

"Don't you think he's guessing a little...too well?"

You pushed her lightly, a knot forming in your stomach as you caught onto the insinuation.

"Don't be silly. We don't even know if he's right."

But Mina wasn't letting it go. She grabbed your shoulders firmly, her eyes crinkling with worry, her voice taking on a more urgent tone.

"I'm saying this as your bestest friend, y/n," she insisted, her gaze locking onto yours, "but something feels off." Her grip tightened, and you felt the weight of her words settle in your chest.

Her voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible, as she leaned closer.

"I've been watching him. I've caught this look in his eye—this calculated look—and it's just giving me this god-awful feeling. The way he threatened that older man, how quickly he figured things out... doesn't it make you wonder why he just randomly appeared after the first game?"

You could feel your heartbeat quicken, the creeping unease crawling up your spine. Mina wasn't the type to stir the pot without reason, and her concern was palpable, making your own doubts resurface. You hadn't noticed it before, but now—he was different. His reactions, his confidence—it all seemed a little too... precise. Too perfect. Not to mention the guard shrinking from his demand.

You swallowed hard, trying to push the rising fear down. "Mina... you're overthinking it."

But the doubt gnawed at you, and the unease in your gut only grew heavier.

"Maybe I am," Mina said, her voice filled with uncertainty but still holding a note of conviction.

She paused, then added, "Just listen for the announcement. If he's wrong, you can spend the rest of our lives rubbing it in."

She gave a slight, teasing snicker, her smile a little more strained now, as if trying to lighten the growing tension.

"Just don't die on me and ruin the moment," she added, the last part almost playful, but there was an underlying concern in her voice.

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound coming out a little too nervous to be genuine, but you couldn't help it. "Oh, don't worry," you said, forcing a grin as you nudged her shoulder. "I'm definitely going to outlive you."

Mina's arm swung around your shoulders, pulling you in tight for a brief, tight hug. Her grip was almost protective, and you could feel her warmth seep through your clothes, an odd comfort in a place like this.

"If you do outlive me," she muttered into your ear, "just promise me you'll still remember who had your back when no one else did."

Her words were light, but you knew she meant them as the two of you stepped on the platform next to In-ho.

The familiar woman's voice echoed, but it felt distant like you were hearing it through a thick fog, muffled and hollow.

"Players, welcome to the second game."

A chill ran down your spine.

"For your next game, you will be playing Mingle.”

Your heart stopped.

No, it couldn't be. Not this. The ground beneath you seemed to tilt, and for a moment, everything went still. Your body felt weightless, detached from the reality around you. The world felt like it was spinning, but you were anchored somewhere far away, watching yourself as if from a distance.

You glanced at Mina, your hand trembling in hers as your gaze locked onto hers, the panic written all over your face mirrored in hers. The sound of the woman's voice faded into static, her words becoming unintelligible as your hearing seemed to dull, the world slipping further from your grasp.

You squeezed Mina's hand with a strength you didn't know you had, but the pressure in your chest only tightened. Her expression softened into something akin to sorrow, the pity in her eyes somehow making everything worse. It was as if she could feel what you were experiencing—the crushing weight of the game's announcement.

Too afraid to look at In-ho, you kept your eyes fixed on Mina, clinging to her as if she could pull you back from the edge as if she could stop everything from falling apart. But the feeling—the sense of drowning in your own mind—was overwhelming, suffocating. The fear clawed at you, and you couldn't stop it, couldn't stop the sense of losing yourself in the chaos of it all.

It was like the world was rushing forward, and you were stuck, frozen in place, unable to breathe.

It was as if everything fell into place in that moment, the pieces of the puzzle clicking together with a sickening clarity. The rush of realization hit you all at once, and it was like a weight was crushing your chest.

You thought back to the things he'd said, the things he'd done—each one a thread leading you to this horrifying truth. The way he'd spoken to you at the coffee shop, so calm and calculated, the same cold detachment in his voice now. That look in his eyes—it wasn't just about the game, wasn't just about survival. It was something darker.

He knew exactly where Mina was losing her money. He knew, and he didn't care. And that violent threat he made to that man—it wasn't a slip of anger, wasn't a moment of desperation. It was deliberate. Purposeful. The guard, too, obeying him without question—it wasn't just chance.

"Don't worry about them," he had said in the bathroom. And now, the words echoed in your mind, twisted with new meaning, the lie hanging heavy between you.

You turned to him slowly in that instant, your heart hammering in your chest. The betrayal was like a sharp knife, cutting deeper with every passing second. His cold countenance met your gaze, and in that moment, it all became painfully clear. His indifference to everything, to everyone around him—it wasn't survival for him.

It wasn't coincidence. It wasn't a fluke. It was him.

You looked down and off in the distance.

The games — It was him.

Mina's grip tightened around your hand, pulling you forward off the platform in a blur. You hadn't even realized the game had started—your mind was still reeling, the weight of the revelation suffocating your thoughts. The number 2 echoed in the air, and the pressure of the game became all too real.

Before you could even process what was happening, a sudden force yanked you back, your arm jerking as a strong hand latched onto you. You were pulled against a hard, familiar chest, and you barely had time to breathe before you recognized the feeling—the cold, unyielding presence of In-ho.

A jolt of panic shot through you, but Mina wasn't letting you go that easily. She struggled to break free, her hand reaching for yours, fighting with everything she had to drag you away from him. But it was no use, as a passerby knocked her down with a strong force.

In-ho was swift, dragging you toward the nearest room without hesitation, his grip firm on your arm. The sound of footsteps echoed in the hall, but before you could even register the danger, a man appeared from the shadows, lunging forward and knocking you to the ground.

Twenty seconds

The urgency of the countdown pulsed in the air. In-ho reacted in an instant, grabbing the man by the shoulders and slamming him back.

"Get in! Go!" he barked, his voice cutting through the chaos.

You didn't need to be told twice. Fear surged through your body, and you bolted for the room, throwing yourself inside. But as the door slammed behind you, your heart sank—there was already someone in the room. The man's partner, standing tall, blocking the way.

In-ho was hot on your heels, entering just a moment later. His eyes immediately locked onto the intruder.

"Out," he commanded coldly, his voice carrying authority. But the man stood his ground, refusing to move.

Ten Seconds

In-ho didn't hesitate. He circled around the man with lightning speed, his movements precise. Before the man could react, In-ho had him in a chokehold, his grip unyielding.

The room felt smaller, the air thicker, as your pulse raced in your throat. Terrified, you backed against the wall, eyes wide with panic. You could feel the countdown in your chest, each second more suffocating than the last.

5...4...3...2...1

A sharp, sickening crack split the silence, and the man's body went limp in In-ho's arms, his life snuffed out in an instant. The room seemed to freeze, and for a moment, all you could hear was the ringing in your ears.

You slid down the wall in a daze, your breath shallow as you pressed your hand to your mouth, trying to stifle the shock and nausea threatening to overwhelm you. You couldn’t look away from the lifeless form, the reality of what had just happened sinking in, making your head spin.

Mina.

You jumped to your feet, looking out the small window of the room.

You couldn't find her.

That was a good thing, right?

Remaining in the room, that same woman's voice spoke over the loudspeaker.

"The following players have been eliminated."

"Player 022, 120, 207..."

You tried to block out the sound of the numbers, each one echoing in your mind like a drumbeat, relentless and deafening. But then, the one number you’d been desperately praying would never come—the one you feared more than any other—was announced.

"Player 067, eliminated."

The words felt like a physical blow, crashing into you with an intensity that took your breath away. A cold, sinking feeling spread through your chest as reality shattered. The world blurred around you, the weight of the announcement pressing down on your entire being, suffocating you.

You screamed, the sound raw and desperate, a cry that seemed to tear from your very soul. You screamed until your throat burned, until the pain in your chest was too much to bear, until everything in your vision distorted in the haze of shock and grief.

And then, cold hands gripped your shoulders—too cold, too steady. In-ho pulled you, almost as if he were dragging you into the abyss with them. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t think. All that remained was the sound of your own voice breaking, the empty, hollow realization that you’d lost someone you couldn’t afford to lose in this hellish place.

His hands guided you down to the floor, but your legs refused to hold you. You crumpled, your body trembling violently as the weight of the loss crushed you.

There was nothing but the scream in your throat and the terrible, empty silence that followed the words you could never unhear.

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

You didn’t remember slipping into unconsciousness, but in that moment, it felt like a mercy—an escape from the crushing weight of reality.

When you awoke, everything felt distant, foreign, like you had been transported to a place where nothing mattered anymore. The world around you was different, but you barely registered it, your mind too numb to care.

In-ho stood in front of you, his presence all too much. His eyes bore into yours, but yours were hollow, glassy, stripped of the light they once had.

"Drink this," he murmured, extending an undersized glass of liquor. His voice was steady, yet cold, as if rehearsed. You took the glass with trembling hands but not to drink. With a sharp motion, you hurled it across the room. The glass shattered against the wall, fragments raining down like jagged tears.

"You're despicable," you spat, the words seething with venom. His face barely flinched, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of something-pain? Regret? It didn't matter.

"You were never meant to be involved, y/n. If you would have just come to me about your troubles this wouldn't have happened."

You scoffed, your lip curling in contempt. "Oh, and everything would have been perfect, wouldn't it? You jetting off on your little 'business trips,' murdering people, while I stayed home like some clueless fool, keeping your bed warm and smiling like an idiot. Is that how you imagined it?" 

Your voice wavered, thick with bitterness, as tears burned your cheeks.

"How....how could you do it?" He circled you, slow and deliberate, like a predator cornering prey. He sank into the loveseat behind you with an air of calculated calm, gesturing for you to sit. His hand barely moved, a silent command. You didn't budge.

He sighed, "I'm doing this for us, for you. Don't you see? The people chosen for the game are parasites—leeches consumed by greed and selfishness. They deserve to be eliminated from existence. Whether they're crushed in the process or crawl away with their filthy riches, it doesn't matter. Either way, they're removed from our world."

Your breath caught in your throat, the words slicing through you like a jagged blade. For a moment, you couldn't speak, couldn't even think. His voice, so calm, so calculating, made your skin crawl.

"For us?" you finally choked out, your voice trembling, caught between disbelief and anguish.

 "How can you even say that?"

He didn't flinch, didn't waver, his eyes cold and distant. But you? You were unraveling. Your chest heaved as if trying to contain the storm brewing inside you.

"People. Parasites. Is that what you think they are? Is that what you thought Mina was? Is that why you had her killed?

"Is that what you think I am?" The words came out sharp, but your voice cracked under the weight of your emotions.

That seemed to get to him. He rose from his seat with slow movements, his eyes never leaving yours.

"You?" he said, his voice softer now but no less chilling.

"You're not like them."

He began walking toward you, his steps measured, almost cautious, like he was approaching a cornered animal.

"You're not here for your own gain, not for greed or selfish desires. You're here for your father, fighting to save him. That’s why I-I” He started, but you scoffed cutting him off.

But as he drew closer, you instinctively stepped back, your feet moving before your mind could catch up. A cold rush of fear swept over you. You'd never been afraid of him before, but now? Now, you couldn't trust what he was capable of.

"In-ho... don't," you whispered, your voice shaking.

He froze mid-step, his hand half-raised toward you, his brows knitting together. "Don't do that," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "Don't back away from me. Please, don't... don't be afraid of me."

Your heart clenched, but his words didn't bring comfort. They only deepened the chasm between you.

How could this be the same man who once made you laugh until your sides hurt? Who wiped your tears with such tenderness that you thought your heart might burst from the love you felt for him? Memories surged through you—the quiet mornings, the stolen smiles, the promises whispered in the dark. You thought of every moment you had shared, the man you believed in, the man you loved with everything you had.

And now, here he was—a stranger standing before you, cloaked in the shadow of someone you used to know.

"How can I not be afraid?" You whispered, your voice barely audible. You felt the knife twist in your back. Your eyes dropped to the crimson spreading across your clothes, the sheer volume of people's blood making your stomach churn. You trembled uncontrollably, paralyzed by shock and disbelief. Through your haze of agony, you caught In-ho's gaze. His expression was a storm of guilt and regret, but it only deepened your devastation as you crumbled before him.

Finally, your voice cracked again. "I…I need space."

His expression faltered, pain flashing across his face. "Space?"

You nodded, wiping your tear-streaked face with trembling hands. "I can't… I need to think. Please."

He hesitated, then nodded slowly, though his posture screamed reluctance. "You can take the spare bedroom," he said softly. "Down the hall, second door on the left."

Without another word, you turned and walked away, your legs heavy and unsteady beneath you. When you reached the room, you stepped inside and slammed the door shut, locking it before leaning back against it. Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, your mind racing.

After a moment, you crossed the room, grabbing fresh towels from the small cabinet. You needed to wash it all away—the day, the deaths, the violence. Everything.

The bathroom was dimly lit, the only sound the steady rush of warm water from the shower. You stepped inside, sinking down onto the cold tile floor as the water poured over you, mixing with your tears.

Your mind raced, flashing back to the chaos of the day—the screams, the blood, the merciless decisions. And at the center of it all, the one pulling the strings was him. In-ho.

But then, as much as you wanted to hate him, memories of the past three years flooded your mind. His laughter that lit up even your darkest days. The way he'd hold you, whispering that everything would be okay. The small, thoughtful gestures that made you feel so loved. The way he'd make love.

You buried your face in your hands, the water soaking through your hair and down your bare skin. You still loved him. Even after everything, your heart ached for him.

But how could you reconcile the man who once made your world brighter with the man you'd seen today? The man who was capable of orchestrating so much death and pain?

Your shoulders shook as sobs wracked your body. You didn't know what to do. You didn't know if you could forgive him or if you could ever look at him the same way again.

And yet, even in the depths of your confusion and heartbreak, one thing was painfully clear—you still loved him, but you're not even sure he existed anymore.

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

It had been two weeks, two long weeks of isolation. You barely left your room, only emerging when absolutely necessary —for food or the fleeting desire for a change in scenery. In-ho had tried, time and time again, to draw you out of your silence, but every time he spoke, every time his eyes met yours, you couldn't even bring yourself to acknowledge him. The pain was still too raw.

Now, standing in front of the mirror, brushing your damp hair, you let the motions soothe you for a moment. The simple act of taking care of yourself felt almost comforting. But then a knock at the door broke through the quiet.

You approached cautiously, heart beating faster as you turned the knob, only to find In-ho standing there. He said nothing at first, just looked at you, his expression unreadable.

"I want to show you something," he said, his voice low.

You hesitated, shaking your head, instinctively wanting to retreat back into the safety of your room. But his next words made you pause, the sincerity in his eyes pulling at something deep inside of you.

"Please."

It was a simple plea, but it held something genuine—something that made you want to trust him, just for a moment. You sighed, giving in, and followed him down the hall to his office.

The space was quiet and orderly as always. In-ho circled around his desk and sat down, and you stood, hugging your arms tightly to yourself, feeling the chill of the room. He beckoned you over, and you approached, curiosity and apprehension warring in your chest.

He opened a file on his computer, and as the video began to play, your eyes scanned the screen. You recognized the area instantly—it was right outside the city hospital, a place so familiar to you.

And then, you saw him. Your father, sitting in a wheelchair. Beside him, your mother. And the woman next to them…

Mina.

Your heart leaped in your chest, the tears welling up in your eyes as the weight of the moment crashed down on you.

You blinked, trying to steady yourself as you turned to In-ho, your voice shaky. "How..."

He looked back at you, his tone softer than you expected. "Mina was removed from the games. Her death was faked. And yours." He turned the screen toward you, showing more of the footage. "As for your father, I made sure the necessary funds were sent and lined him up with a donor."

A sense of relief flooded through you like a tidal wave. You didn't know whether to laugh or cry, but one thing was clear—everything was going to be okay.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you could breathe again. The people you cared about were safe. Your father was getting the help he needed, and Mina—Mina was alive.

Tears streamed down your face, but they were no longer tears of grief. They were tears of release, of a weight finally lifted.

In-ho's gaze met yours, his eyes unwavering as he reached out to take your hands gently in his. His touch was warm, grounding, as if he was trying to reassure you, to remind you that you were no longer alone in this.

"I swore to you," he said, his voice low and steady, "that everything I did, every decision, every action—it would be for you."

You slid into his lap, your knees trembling as you took his face in your hands, wiping away the stray tear that escaped down his cheek. His skin felt warm against your palms, a comfort you had clung to so many times before, but now it only reminded you of how much had changed—how far apart the two of you had drifted.

"All these years," you began, your voice breaking as tears welled in your eyes, "all I've known is what you've allowed me to know. Half of who you are. And I loved that half—I loved it with everything in me." Your voice faltered, but you forced yourself to continue, your fingers trembling as they traced the curve of his jaw. "But this," you said, gesturing to the cold, sterile facility surrounding you, "this is something I can't forgive. These people… they're not parasites or leeches. They're human beings, In-ho. Human beings who were dealt a bad hand. And you've turned their suffering into a game."

His brows furrowed, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, but he said nothing. You could see it—the war raging in his mind, the guilt and conflict he was too proud to admit. You leaned in closer, your forehead almost touching his as you whispered, your voice trembling, "I'm going to give you a choice."

His hands slid up your waist instinctively, as if trying to anchor himself to you, trying to hold on to the one thing he couldn't bear to lose. You felt his grip tighten, desperate, but you pressed on, your words cutting through the silence.

"Come home with me," you said, your voice cracking with emotion. "Leave this all behind and we can reset. Walk away from this nightmare, because if you don't…" Your breath caught as tears spilled freely down your cheeks. "If you don't, In-ho, you will never see me again."

His eyes widened, a flicker of pain flashing across his face as he processed your words. You saw the gears turning in his mind, the walls he had built around himself crumbling under the weight of your ultimatum. His grip on you faltered, his hands trembling as he clung to you like a lifeline.

"In-ho," you whispered, your voice barely audible, "please. I can't save you from this. You have to save yourself."

For a long, agonizing moment, he said nothing, his silence filling the room like a deafening roar. And as you stared into his eyes, searching for the man you had loved for so long, you realized this moment would either be the beginning of something new—or the end of everything.

-> PART TWO <-

[reiderwriter]

Little Angel

Pairing: Spencer Reid × virgin!fem reader

Genre: SMUT, some fluff, a little tiny smidge of angst. MINORS DNI 18+

Summary: As the youngest and most innocent member of the BAU, they all take care of their little angel. When they find out just how innocent you are, though, one member takes his possession to the next level. You're his little angel, and he's determined to have you.

Warnings: loss of virginity, loss of innocence, degradation, pet names, oral sex, thigh riding, fingering, cum marking, love bites, Spencer is territorial and possessive, Dom! Spencer Reid, PinV sex, mentions breeding, but he pulls out.

A/N: We've reached Day 8 of kinktober! It's our second "long" fic, meaning there's a bit more plot to this, and the smut scene is longer too (WC is almost 7k!) I hope you love this one just as much as I did... The kinktober masterlist can be found here, and my regular masterlist is here too! If you want something specific, my requests are open ❤️

Your first three months with the BAU were a blur, and for good reason. Endless cases, back-to-back, interrupted only by the slight hint of a weekend or the ever possible death row interview. You were tired, stressed, and afraid to walk home alone at night, and absolutely satisfied. As far as you were concerned, it was all worth it to get these monsters off the streets, to help save their victims and to find out what made them tick. There was nothing else you'd rather be doing. 

The team had helped you settle in well, too. You'd joined the team after Alex Blake had left - she'd recommended you actually from the college seminars you'd taken with her. You were obviously lacking a bit of experience, so they took on two team members, and you and Kate Callahan had the great opportunity of both being the newbie. But you had a slight disadvantage of age, coming in as the youngest member of the team. You thought that might be why you'd settled in so well, in all honesty. 

Hotch and Rossi were both protective in a fatherly way. Hotch pushed you and Rossi encouraged you and that was everything you needed from them. A strong pat on the back at the end of a case and a "you did good, kid," and whatever hell they'd pushed you through, it was worth it. Morgan's tough love was brotherly, but he did a great job at getting you to relax on and off the case, reminding you to not take the work home. JJ and Kate were great mentors. It wasn't easy being women in the FBI, let alone the unit that specifically looked into some of the most misogynistic killings, rapes and abductions in the world. They both gave you tips about how to handle condescending officers, and JJ had held your hair back after you'd puked your guts up on a particularly harrowing day in the field. With Penelope, friendship was easy, and you loved talking to her about whatever hyperfixation you were on that week, loving that there was someone on your team that had filled their life with genuine joy in the face of so much horror. 

And Spencer. Honestly, you were beginning to think that you'd used Spencer as a human stuffed toy a bit too much. 

You don't know how it happened at first, just that after one of your first few cases, you'd been so elated to find a victim alive, safe but traumatised, that you'd thrown yourself into his arms the minute you got back to the precinct. 

"We did it, I thought she was going to be dead, Spencer but she isn't." Your head was pressed into his chest, you were almost surprised he even heard them, muffled as they were. If you weren't so elated, you'd have noticed the way he'd stiffened at your touch, panicking slightly before awkwardly wrapping his arms around you, too. But you pulled away before you could notice that he wasn't really used to any physical comfort, bouncing off to write up your case report. 

Spencer noticed, though. Noticed how the heat of your body made him feel comforted, the way his heart rate increased to 125 BPM from it's base rate and didn't fall back to normal for another half hour. He noticed that you smelt like jasmine and patchouli, and more importantly, he noticed that he didn't really care if you touched him, and that was new. 

It became a kind of ritual for you, finding him after a case and folding into his arms to celebrate. They were friendly hugs, after all, a sign that you'd been through hell together, and you'd made it through like avenging angels. They only lingered longer when the cases went badly. You turned to crying in his arms after you'd discovered the body of a dead street girl, Veronica, in pieces in the house of an unsub who'd committed suicide by cop moments earlier. 

"I told her she'd be safe if she talked to us, Reid. I told her we'd protect her, that I'd protect her." You were so hurt by that failure that he'd had to drive you home that night, holding your hand the entire way so you didn't feel so alone, left to fester in your guilt. 

The rest of the team had begun teasing you about the hugs, but you'd brushed them off. You hugged everyone else too, and you knew for a fact that Penelope hugged every member of the team, so there was nothing special going on between you and Spencer. No one had deigned to inform you of Spencer's germophobia and aversion to touch. 

"Gonna tell me what that's all about?" Morgan asked Spencer as you bounced away from a hug one day, leaving to remove your FBI vest. 

"What what's all about?" He replied coldly, turning away to remove his own vest, replacing it with his blazer. 

"What, you don't have a statistic for how many germs are passed between people during a hug, Kid, come on, you were practically smelling her hair." The older man's eyebrows raised in a question again, but Spencer continued to blow him off. 

"I hug people all the time, it's not a big deal." He shrugged. 

"It took you four years to return one of Penelope's hugs, and you still only do that on special occasions. That's not all the time." 

"Derek, just drop it. There's nothing going on, she just… She just does it sometimes." 

It was when you'd hugged him in the middle of the office, without a case to use as an excuse, that you noticed an underlying tension in the office. You were all celebrating, of course, Callahan had just announced her pregnancy, and you were all so happy for her. You'd heard the happy news and instantly turned and thrown yourself into Spencer's arms. Even you weren't sure why, not even questioning it until you saw the awkward glances on the other profilers' faces. You brushed it off by rushing to give each of them hugs, and running out in a mad flush, needing air, or water or something to get you out of what was looking more and more like an interrogation room. 

A few cases later, the entire team headed to O'Keefe's to celebrate. 

"To another case successfully solved," Morgan toasted, and you all joined him, lifting your glasses in triumph. 

"To the wonders of non-alcoholic beer," chimed in Kate, leaving you all laughing together. The booth was small, and as usual, you'd found yourself sat right in the arms of Spencer Reid. You hadn't intended it, honestly, having slightly avoided him recently, but you'd followed Penelope into her side of the circular table, and Reid had followed you. You were sat squished between them, your arms resting awkwardly on your lap between drinks. 

"Okay, a night of drinking is slightly boring without some games to spice things up, what do you say, hot chocolate?" Penelope said, addressing Morgan who was on her other side. 

"I'm all ears, baby girl. What were you thinking?" 

"How about twenty questions? We already know a lot about each other, let's see what we don't know?" Kate suggested, thriving off of the knowledge that as the sole sober member present, she'd hold all the cards tomorrow. 

"What, how is asking questions a game?" Reid questioned jokingly from beside you. "That's just an interrogation or a therapy session, there's no winner or loser."  

Already slightly buzzing from your drink, you turned to him and out your fingers in his lips, shushing him. 

"No time for logic in matters of the bottle, Spencer. Let's play." He pulled your fingers off him, but nodded, holding them in his grip still as you turned back to the table. 

"I'll start! JJ, are you and Will thinking of having more baby LaMontagne's?" Penelope jumped at the chance to probe her teammate, and you laughed at her enthusiasm. 

"There have been discussions, but I'll not confirm or deny yet." JJ said, taking a sip of her drink as she slyly avoided a direct answer. 

"I always forget why you were so good with the press, Miss No Answers. Okay, your turn to ask a question." 

"Okay, Morgan. Are you thinking of popping the question to Savannah anytime soon?" 

"Did she send you?" He laughed and took a drink. "If I do, she'll be the first to know." 

The game went back and forth like this for a few rounds before Penelope turned the spotlight back to you. 

"Okay, Y/N. You were a college student recently, I know you've got some wild stories. Where's the craziest place you've ever done it?" You knew Penelope didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. She was just an open person. 

But you shifted in your seat nonetheless, trying to figure out if you could answer or even if you would. Your tongue was a bit looser than you expected though, because before you could even finish thinking you just blurted it out. 

"Nowhere." 

The others blinked at you slightly before Penelope dived in with another question. 

"Is that Nowhere, Oaklahoma, or you're just not having sex in crazy places?" 

"No. I'm not… I'm not having sex. Period. Never have." You felt yourself shrink as the other members of the team awkwardly apologised for probing you so much. Really it wasn't that big of a deal, and it wasn't as if you were saving it for religious or moral reasons. But you'd not been the most popular teenager, and you'd started studying serial killers and sociopaths so early that you really hadn't wanted to get so intimate with someone else like that. 

Unbeknownst to you, Spencer's grip on his own drink had tightened ever so slightly, his heart race had picked up again, and suddenly the hand that was holding yours suddenly let you go, quietly dropping your fingers like they were glowing cinders, and he was dripping in gasoline, waiting to ignite. 

Lust. He felt sick with himself for the images that were suddenly flashing through his mind now that he knew you'd never been held in that way, trying not to fantasise about you underneath him, holding him, begging him, feeling all of him. He took another swig of his drink and politely excused himself to get another as he let himself catch some air, as the sudden realization that he wanted you - and had wanted you for quite some time now - finally hit him.

The next couple of weeks were normal, and you were thankful to have that discussion behind you. No one treated you differently, acted like you were more of a child than before, asked you how your dating life was or set you up on blind dates, which was really refreshing actually. You'd let some friends know previously, and that's all they'd done, surprised that you could live ignorant to wonders of sex without shrivelling up and dying. 

The only thing that was different was Spencer. And that wasn't really difference so much as growing more comfortable with each other. He'd rest his hand on the small of your back now in support sometimes, or have a hand slung over the back of your chair when sitting together. He was constantly at your side, especially if you were around male suspects or officers who'd taken a bit of a ballsy approach. 

You liked it, probably a bit too much. You gravitated towards him in a room filled with people, and found yourself hugging him more often, when you left a room, when you entered one, when he looked like he needed it. Which, recently, was all the time. A month went by with this increased comfort level, and soon you found yourself feeling wrong if his hands weren't on you. 

He stood close to you all the time, and you noticed the stares you were getting from everyone else. A few officers who'd approach you would apologise to him when they noticed him at your back, hand on your hip as he pulled you away. 

After one case, you could even swear that you felt more than him than you were expecting. He'd moved away slightly in between one of your hugs, but you'd pulled his arms back around you and stepped closer, pressing your back against his chest, letting your head rest on his arms. Something hard and long wedged up against your ass, and in a split second he was pulling away before you could ask him about it. He excused himself, and you felt your body burn up. It was Spencer, it was just Spencer and that wasn't because of you, it was some other reason. 

Spencer didn't know what he was doing. He grew more possessive over you by the day, and he'd honestly nearly bitten the head off an officer who asked him for your number. 

"Sorry, she doesn't have a phone." 

"But I saw her with one earlier. Look I get it she's FBI, and you guys are-" 

"Okay, so she's not interested."

"Hey, why don't you let her decide that wise guy?" 

"Oh sure, get angry I'm sure she'd love that. She's not interested, she has me." He couldn't help himself from getting in the officers face at that, and Morgan had to pull him back from the edge. 

"Wow, wow, hey, calm down." The officer stormed out, and he felt triumphant for only a second before Morgan rounded on him. 

"Whatever this thing you've got going on, Spencer, you need to get it out of your system as soon as possible." His voice was low and stern, throwing a glance over his shoulder to where you were sitting, staring confusedly through the glass at Spencer, whose eyes refused to move from your own. 

" I just wanted him to back off, she doesn't like him like that."

"No, you wanted him to back off because you've marked her like some animal marking its territory. She's not your prey, Spencer, she's our team member, now you're gonna have to get your act together and leave her alone, because we've got work to do." 

Sighing and throwing his hands through his hair again, he finally looked away from you and gathered his breath. He wanted to stop this too, this horrible perverted feeling of needing his hands on you, wanting to possess you day and night. To protect you. He just wasn't sure if he was strong enough to do that. 

The next time you all went to O'Keefe's he certainly tried. You expected him to follow you into the booth again - he didn't, sitting opposite you next to JJ. You expected him to talk to you or look at you for more than a second at a time - he didn't, avoiding most conversations entirely and keeping his eyes fixed on the bar. You certainly expected him to still be sat at the table when you returned from the bathroom, ready to slip into the seat beside him, force him to talk to you. Instead he was gone, and you scanned the rest of the bar trying to locate him. 

Something green and vile jumped you when you finally locked onto him, stood at the bar, surrounded by other women. Surrounded was maybe an exaggeration, as there were really only two of them, but they were practically draping themselves over him, and for some reason that set something alight inside of you. 

You watched them for a moment, how one of them trailed a hand up his arm as he shuddered away from their touch, the other pressing herself against the bar so her chest pushed up dramatically. The green bile in your throat carried your feet forwards, and before you knew it, you were clearing it from your throat to grab their attentions. 

"Spencer, there you are!" You brightened your tone specifically, as you locked eyes with his panicked ones. The two girls looked you up and down as you moved closer, brushing past them to climb up right into his lap on the barstool, pulling his arm around you as you pressed your ass into his crotch. 

"Are you going to introduce me to your new friends?" The smile didn't reach your eyes as you let your back rest against his chest comfortably, watching the women to see their reactions. The one touching him pulled her arm back instantly, and the other readjusted her dress before they both left silently, carrying their glasses back to wherever they came from. 

You watched them leave a little triumphantly before the green faded, and you realised what you had done. 

"Y/N…?" His voice was hesitant in your ear, and you shivered slightly before pushing off of him. 

"I'm so sorry, Spence, it just- it… looked like you were hard." You panicked again, pushing closer to him. "No, like you were in a hard situation, not that you were," your hand accidentally dropped to his crotch as you spoke your final words: "Hard."

He twitched beneath you as you finally looked down to where your hand was, as his mouth opened to say something. 

"Y/N…" was all you heard before you turned around, and fast walked to the entrance, picking your bag up quickly on the way, and then sprinted the second the cold air hit your face. 

You cursed yourself inwardly as you ran the three blocks more to your apartment, thankful that you were at least in walking (or apparently running) distance. What the hell had you been thinking? Practically sexually harassing one of your coworkers like that, grabbing his dick, albeit accidentally. 

You slammed your door shut behind you, leaning against it and sliding to the floor as you finally accepted that whatever this was with Reid, it wasn't friendship for you anymore. And you weren't sure if it had ever been. 

With your head between your legs, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, you started replaying each moment with him, each touch from the very first. How even the memory of a brush past you could excite a fire in your heart, a heat between your legs growing by the second. 

You wanted to crawl pathetically into bed and not think about him until the next morning at work,  but fate, or Doctor Spencer Reid, had other plans. 

The knock at your door was sudden and incessant, the banging starting loud, and staying consistent until you tentatively pulled it open. 

He was stood there, chest heaving, looking down at you, sweat coating his forehead. 

"Can I… Come in?" He asked, and you nodded, too stunned at his sudden appearance to tell if this was real or just your fantasy becoming a little too realistic. 

He thanked you for letting him inside, and you showed him inside, guiding him to he couch, where you took a seat opposite him. 

"I wanted to make sure you were okay, you left in a rush and…" He trailed off, eyes flicking down to your lips. His Adam's apple bobbed with his swallow, and you watched it yourself, trying to avoid meeting his eyes, as if you were a schoolgirl about to get in trouble with a disappointed teacher. 

"I'm okay." 

"Okay, that's great, that's… Great." His breaths caught up to him, and he took another deep breath and a swallow before continuing. "How about we continue that game from last time. Twenty questions?" 

You'd do anything to stop him walking out of that door, but you felt too shy to touch him again, even in the friendly ways you were used to, so you eagerly accepted. 

"Yes, that… That sounds fun, thank you." 

"Okay. Question one. Do you know why I'm here?" He asks as he shifts closer to you, still not touching, but at a proximity where it would be natural to accidentally brush against one another. 

"N-No. But I might have an idea." He nodded at your response before moving on to his next question. 

"Question two. Are you a virgin?" He didn't trip or stumble over the words, pushing them out slowly and delicately so as not to offend. 

"Yes." The lump in your throat was thick, almost as if he'd put something there that you couldn't help but choke on. 

"Question three. Do you want to remain a virgin?" 

You shook your head no, following it with your voice seconds later as he stood up from his seat, putting some distance between you. 

"Question four. Do you feel intoxicated or drunk right now?" He held himself still as you sat on the very edge of your chair, desperate to feel his hands on you now. 

"No, I only had one sip at the bar before…" He held up a hand to silence you, and you did. 

Question five. Answer me honestly. Do you like it when I touch you?" 

"Yes." Your breath was a whisper, but it was breathy, sounding almost pornographic in your neediness. 

"Question six. Do you like it when other people touch you?" 

"Do you?" His head snapped back to yours, and you froze under his gaze. "Not as much." You answered and relaxed again, pouting slightly at his lack of answer. 

"Question seven. Do you like me touching other people?" He took a step closer to you again with this question, but you continued pouting as you shook your head. 

"No. I don't." His lips quirked upwards before he could stop them, but he gathered himself together again. 

"Question eight. Do you want me to leave?" You met his eyes at that question, taking one good, hard, long look at him. You noted the tensed jaw, the clenched fists, his stiff body language, trailing your eyes over him before looking him directly in the eyes. 

"No." You let the word hang on your tongue, pulling it out a bit longer than was necessary as you watched him take in a shaky breath. 

"Question nine. Do you want me to come over there and kiss you?" 

"God, yes." He was on you in seconds, restraints gone, throwing himself back at you as his lips collided with your own. Virgin you may be, but you'd kissed men before, and it had been nothing like this. 

His hands trailed up to your hair, tipping your head back slightly so he could gain better access. He bit your lip and thrust his tongue into your mouth when you gasped, so eager to consume every part of you whole. 

You'd never felt like this before. 

He pulled away, and you tried desperately to chase his lips, even as your lungs begged you to stop. 

"Last question," he whispered in the space between you, holding the sides of your face at a distance so neither of you could be tempted to dive in for a second kiss, or a third, or fourth. "Do you want me to fuck you?" You whimpered at his words, nodding furiously as you tried to lunge at him again, but he held you firm. 

"I need you to say your answer, baby. I need to hear your consent, okay?" You nod again and open your mouth, eyes never leaving his lips as you moan out a definitive "yes."

Instead of letting your lips fall against his again, he lunges for you, grabbing your legs and hauling you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style all the way back to your bedroom. 

"Gonna do it right," he mutters to himself as he throws you down on the bed, pulling back to take off his jacket and unbutton the cuffs on his shirt, rolling the sleeves up meticulously. 

"I'm going to take care of you, Y/N, okay?" You nod at him and flush, suddenly feeling the strength of his need for you as he holds himself back. He puts his hands on you again, gently coaxing your legs apart, pushing your skirt up over your hips. Reflexively, you move your hands over yourself, covering your sensitive places with your hands. 

"Don't cover yourself." His voice is strong, deep, as he orders you, and you let your arms drop back to your side. He traces his hands up and down your legs, almost as if he were memorising every inch of your skin, how you felt under his hands. 

His hands make their way up to your panties, and you watch with baited breath as he moves you, pulling your hips up so he can let them fall down. The lace material tickles you as he pushes them past your thighs, over your knees and finally off your legs entirely, balling them up and putting them in his pocket. 

"I'm going to touch you now, okay?" He asks it like a question, but he doesn't wait for your answer, unable to hold himself back before diving straight between your legs, so desperate to taste you that he's deaf to everything else. 

His tongue connects with your sensitive area first, tracing up and down at a steady pace as his legs half-heartedly push your legs open. It's almost as if he's enjoying the pressure of your legs wrapped around him, suffocating between your thighs as he feels your pleasure build, and build. 

Eventually he pushes your hips further apart, letting himself push his face into even more of you, his tongue entering your hole as he begins fucking it in and out of you, fingers coming back up to your clit to keep up the pressure there. 

"Spencer, please, please, fuck." 

"I love it when you beg for me like a needy little slut," he whispers, holding your legs apart as he looked up at you, face slick with your arousal. Your mouth drops wide at his words, and he immediately begins to retract them. 

"I'm sorry, Y/N, if that was too far, I just got caught up -" 

"I liked it." You said, quieting him as you spread your legs a bit further apart, begging for him to continue. He smiled and dived right back in, bringing his other hand up under your dress, all the way to your chest as you kept your legs open yourself. 

He sucked your clit into his mouth, lapping up all the juices you were releasing as you moaned underneath him, bucking into his face at the memory of his degradation. 

You were a needy little slut, and you needed him to make you cum. He was more than happy to oblige. 

He kept you there for what felt like forever, drinking you in for as long as he could. You orgasmed twice before he finished, completely overstimulated by the way he was desperately fucking you with his mouth. 

He was obsessed with you, with your scent, your taste, with being the first ever person to ever touch you like this, to fuck you, to make you feel so good. Without him even realising, you're pushed to the brink for a second time, shuddering under the heat of his mouth as he drinks you in. 

He finally pulls his head up again, coming up for air as you're twitching under him. 

"Perfect, baby, so perfect for me." His lips fall down to your own, and suddenly you're tasting yourself on his tongue. It's hypnotising, and despite the pleasure you've just received, you need more, desperate to feel him on you again. 

When he pulls his mouth away, he replaces himself with his fingers, pushing them into your mouth. 

"Suck," he says and you listen, as he watches the way you lick yourself off of him. 

He unzips your dress with his free hand, carefully pulling your arms out of the sleeves and pushing your dress off your body. You trace your tongue around every ridge of his fingers, leaving no inch undiscovered. He moved you to pull the dress of, and you graciously followed, letting him do whatever he wanted to you. 

"Nice little slut, tasting herself on my fingers?" He whispered when you were finally bare, pulling his fingers from your mouth, letting the trail of spit hang between you as you moaned. 

He removed himself from over you, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. 

"Come here. Come and sit on my lap." 

You cautiously followed his directions. You'd thought that he'd fuck you then, after spending so long getting you ready, but apart from his tie, which he was in the middle of discarding as you crawled over to him, he hadn't derobed any further. 

"That's it baby, come and sit yourself down right here." He pat his thigh and you crawled over, lowering yourself down onto his clothed leg. 

"What now, Spencer?" You stuttered the words out, heart beating as you awaited his instructions. 

"Now, I want you to rock your hips back and forth. Just like this." He grabbed your hips and started moving you against his leg, pushing you down to grind into him. 

"Spencer, wait, I don't know-" 

"I do. I know you can do it, so please try. For me." You pulled you in for a kiss, and then removed his hands from you, leaving you to rock against his thigh. 

You were unsure of the movements at first, moving slowly as you dragged your aching cunt up and down the top of his pants, watching as you saw the wet patch you were making. You moaned with each movement, growing faster and more confident as you continued. 

"That's it baby, use me to get yourself off, okay? Let me see you." He whispered in your ears, pushing your sweat-slicked hair ou of your face, holding it up for you. 

"Spencer please," you don't even know what you're asking for as you beg him, feeling that familiar bubble in your stomach grow. 

"No, you can do it. You look so beautiful like this, Y/N, so desperate for my cock, huh?" You start trying to unbutton his shirt, desperate to see more of him, to feel more of his bare skin on your own. But he stops your hands and holds them against his chest. 

"You need to ask nicely first, before trying to undress me like a needy little whore." The words should sound violent, should humiliate you, but his voice is so soft you simply move faster, moaning and desperate to cum one more time. 

"Fuck, Spencer, I'm gonna… I'm gonna…" 

"No, you're not." Before you finish, he pulls you off his leg, hauling your body back onto the bed, and laying you back down on your back. You moan in disapproval, so frustrated with the lack of release that you feel tears prick the corners of your eyes. 

"Don't cry, baby. I'll give you what you want soon." He practically rips his clothes off, pulling his vest over his head, stumbling over each button and removing his belt and pants before climbing over to you. His cock finally free you take your first glance at it. 

You'd never entirely been sure how it was that the male appendage fit inside something as small as your pussy, and you were doubly unsure about how Spencer's was ever going to fit inside you. You stared at it wide eyed, as you took in the length, the girth, and the heat of it as he stroked it in one hands, pushing on top of you. 

He let go of it as soon as he was between your legs, letting it fall onto your stomach as he crawled between your legs. He trailed a finger over your lower abdomen just around where his cock was twitching against you as his other hand came up to stroke your hair. 

"You look worried, Y/N, what's wrong?" 

"Will it, um, will it fit?" You asked, knowing how cliché you sounded. 

"We've spent the last thirty-seven minutes loosening you up with foreplay. It should fit, but I can't promise it won't hurt."

"Right, if my hymen is still intact you have to…" 

"That's right. And then it's going to reach all the way in you to here," with each word, he stepped his fingers up from your clit to where the tip of his dick sat on your stomach, letting you come to terms with exactly how full you were about to be. 

"I'm going to fill you, and you're going to be mine, and I'm going to be yours. My sweet angel." He stroked your face, catching his thumb on your lips on the way down, tempted to thrust it into your mouth again, to see just how much of a whore you could be, given the chance. 

Instead, he lined himself up with your dripping core, and, making sure one last time that this is what you wanted, slowly pushed in. 

It was uncomfortable at first, having something so wholly alien inside of you, you weren't sure how to react. You wrapped your arms around him, digging your nails in, deep, as he pushed in further. 

"Y/N, I need to move more now, and it's going to hurt a little, you just have to trust me, okay?" He kissed the top of your head, but you were so lost in the sensations to answer. With one swift jerk of his hips, he pushed through your hymen, and fully sheathed himself inside of you. He pressed small kisses everywhere on your face, while whispering to you how beautiful you were. 

"You're doing so good for me angel, I'm going to take care of you. Going to make you feel so much better than this. You're so beautiful." His lips were distractingly sweet, as were his words, and soon you found yourself relaxing into him, the sharp pain of earlier fading to an electric buzz inside of you. 

You jerked your hips up to meet his, and with that, he knew you were ready. From his words, you'd assumed that he'd move slowly in you. But with one final lingering kiss to your lips, he lifted his chest up, pinned your legs tightly down, and started thrusting hard and fast. 

"Sorry, just couldn't help myself baby. Needed to see you looking ruined underneath me." Moans spilled out of your mouth with his every movement, and the orgasm you'd built up earlier hit you like a ton of bricks, blackness hazing over your eyes as they rolled back in your head. 

"Fuck, fuck, Spencer, don't stop!" You screamed at the top of your lungs, unable to control your pitch or volume as he slammed into you desperately. He was so turned on by the sight of you beneath him, so proud of having fucked away your virginity, to have given you your very first penetrative orgasm that he wouldn't have heard anything that came out of your mouth. 

His eyes were fixated at the place between you, where you joined, where he was entering you, defiling you, claiming you, using you, breeding you. 

He knew he wouldn't cum inside of you, not the first time, but it was tempting. Instead, he chose to move his lips back to your skin. He marked you with love bites and hickeys across your neck, chest and shoulders as you moaned with every roll of his hips, shuddering on his cock. He was close. And seeing you like this, displaying all the signs that you were his and his only, he finally lost it. 

Pulling his dick out of you, he stroked it through his release, spraying his seed over the parts of your skin he hadn't bruised with love. Your stomach, your breasts, hell, one spurt even landed dangerously close to your lips, he was everywhere. You. Were. His. 

He fell beside you, panting for a few moments as you finally cracked your eyes back open, realising what the two of you had just done. You wiped the cum from your face with a stray finger, staring at it for a second before licking it off your finger. 

"As hot as that was, I think we should get you cleaned up properly, angel." He spends forever cleaning you up, carrying you to the bathroom, washing your entire body with hot water and a fresh cloth, running you a hot bath to relax your muscles. You snuggle into his chest at some point in the bath, relaxing so much into him, that you drift off to sleep. 

You feel him carry you to bed, semi-conscious, tucking you in and climbing in next to you. He holds you through the night, the way he holds you after your bad cases. He holds you until he doesn't. 

You're blindsided by the cold bed the next morning. You knew he would be there, you'd felt him inside you and next to you, and you'd needed his warmth, but he was gone. You looked for him in every other part of your home, looked for a note or an explanation, but there wasn't one. 

Through tears, you got ready for work, ready to face him and make him answer why he was suddenly gone. You wanted him to apologise, especially since he'd marked you so badly the night before you looked like a car crash victim from the neck down. 

Dark lavender blossomed along your collar bones as you looked at yourself in the mirror, trailing a finger along every place that he touched the night before. 

"How could you be so stupid?" You cursed yourself. If you'd have listened to what he was saying last night, really listened, you'd have known he wasn't going to be here in the morning. He wanted to ruin you, to possess you, to take away your virginity, and he'd done just that. 

You almost wanted to keep the bruises on display going into work, to make him confront the pain he caused you by leaving. In the end, it was the inevitable stares from everyone else that convinced you otherwise. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction. 

You pushed through the doors to the bullpen and didn't bother putting your bag down before you started scanning the room for him. 

"Where's Spencer?" You practically shouted the words at Morgan, unable to hold back your anger. 

"Y/N, what's wrong?" 

"Where is he?" You demand, and there must be something in your eyes that speaks to your devastation because Morgan shuts up and just points to the top of the stairs, where Spencer is exiting Hotch's office without a care in the world. 

You don't realise that something is tears until you're beating a hand against his chest in frustration as they spill down your face. 

"Where were you?" You demand, sobbing into his chest, as he pulls your hands away. The entire office is watching your commotion, but you don't care, you're not letting him move you out of the way. 

"Y/N, I need you to sign this." His voice is calm, and you hate him for that. That he can stay so neutral when he's just broken your heart. 

"No, not until you tell me why you left." 

"Sign the papers, Y/N, trust me." He pulls your chin up so you can look him in the eye, and you catch a glimpse of the man who has been holding you, comforting you for the last four months. You snatch the pen from him and sign the papers, thrusting them back at him with a scowl. 

He smiles as he looks down at them, placing them back on his desk before pulling you in for a long, deep kiss. You're shocked at first, but you melt into it, pulling him closer so he can't leave again. 

"I'm sorry. I had to come into the office to declare our relationship, Morgan sometimes tells me I have a one track mind, and when I woke up this morning, the one thing I wanted to do was get it in writing that you were mine." 

Your push the tears out of his face, and attempt to pull him down for another kiss. You don't get the chance, as the sound of several throats clearing around you burst your bubble. 

"Public space, no canoodling." Rossi shouts down at you from the balcony, a soft smirk on his face. 

Penelope runs in from her office, and stares wide-eyed at the lack of space between the two of you. "You! And you! Security cameras….. You!"

"Now, I'm sure there's a story here, but from the state of our little angel's neck here, I'm sure I don't want to hear it." Derek laughs, smacking Spencer on the back in praise as he walks up the stairs to the meeting room. 

You slap a hand over your neck, trying to pull the turtleneck further up to hide the mark you evidently missed. 

"She's my angel, now." Spencer calls up to him. "I have the paperwork to prove it."  

[wallflowergirl2006]

Forced Heat [Fem Chubby Bunny Reader] {Smut + Fluff}

Image from Pinterest by: Ti✦na

CW: Breeding

Not Proofread

You're a bunny hybrid, the last of your kind and through the time in imprisonment in this laboratory you were cautious of everything that did. The food they gave you, the stares, the tests. Everything freaked you out. It took a long while for you to get used to your new living conditions. The scientist in charge made sure to give you a habitat that suited to your needs instead of putting you in a cell since you were the last of your species so they made sure to take extra special care of you. So why did they think to pair you with a predator species? That was the last thing you wanted and apparently he felt the same way. “Why am I paired up with this inferior creature?” The wolf hybrid snarled at the scientist. You could only frown at his harsh words. His words stung just because you were a prey species doesn’t mean you are less important than the predators. “We are trying to see if you two are compatible Matias. Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.” One of the scientists warned him. Matias huffs in annoyance as he stares at you.

He sits down on the opposite of you in the tiny cell they put both of you in. “So what’s special that they had to pair me up with a small and chubby thing like you?” Matias said as he scrutinized you harshly. “Beats me.. I don’t want to be here any more than you do so please can we get this done.” You tried extending an olive branch to him. “Fine but we somehow are compatible enough to be mates. I don't want to hear any complaints from you.” Matias said with harsh glare. “So what’s your name, little bunny?” “[Y/N], My name is [Y/N]..” You told him with an unreadable expression. “[Y/N]” He took a second to digest the information. “It seems to fit you nicely. Yeah, I like that name.” Matias said as his lips slightly twitched upwards. Your eyes raked over his body. He was fit and lean, he didn’t have too much muscle which was good but he also had a lot of scars. “I’m guessing you're a warrior? Judging from your scars.” You asked him with curiosity. His gaze seemed to harden once you spoke about his scars. Your eyes widen in slight panic from his reaction. Matias then let out a sigh. “Yes, I was one of the warriors of my clan. All my scars came from different battles.” He informed you. As he starts to ramble about his scars you choose to get closer to him. He continued to talk and talk until you made it to the other side and sat beside him.

You then grabbed his hand and when you did that seemed to grab his attention. You pressed soft kisses to his scarred hand. You could feel him tense up but he didn’t pull his hand away. A soft ding noise echoed through the room. The scientists then entered the room with clipboards in hand. “Congrats you two. You both are compatible to be mates.” One of the male scientists with a sly smirk. Matias wrapped an arm around your plush waist signaling the male scientist to watch his words. “Alright, I see you're already getting protective of her.” He said with a chuckle. “Alright, guards take them back to their rooms.” The other scientist called for the guards.As the guards escorted both you and Matias back to your room you gave him a small reassuring smile. He saw it and couldn’t help but smile back. 

As time went on the scientist found that you and Matias were the best fit for each well and mostly because once two hybrids mate they won’t be compatible with anyone else. So one day they decided to do a specific test only with you and not Matias. “It’s just some medicine [Y/N] relax.” The scientist said in a reassuring tone as she held up a syringe. Although it didn’t look like medicine, you'd rather obey than go without dinner again. So you lifted your arm and let them stick the needle inside of you. They injected  the “medicine” and it didn’t seem to take effect immediately you sighed thankfully. You were free to go back to your room but as you were escorted back to your room you couldn’t help but feel your body heat up.

Whatever they gave you it made you go into your heat faster than anticipated so you were humping anything you got your hands on.. Anything to make the aching feeling in your cunt go away but nothing seemed to be working.  You whined in pain as you humped the pillow that was drenched in your slick. “Get her mate, we have enough data and she looks like she needs him.” One of the scientists told the guards. Soon you heard the door to your habitat open and you saw your mate and he looked beyond worried. “Pumpkin, I’m so sorry.. Here let me help you.” Matias said as he unzipped his pants and freed his cock. He took the pillow away from you and flipped you onto your back. He positions you into a mating press as he aligns his cock into your dripping sex. He hissed as he pushed himself into you. You could only groan as you wrapped your legs around him to pull him in deeper. Once fully inside you he started at a slow pace but then gradually sped up. “Gonna give you some pups but first gotta take care of my baby.” He cooed as he kissed your soft plump cheek. “God my baby is so perfect..” Matias whined as he felt you clench around him. “Focus on my cock honey, focus on how it fills you nicely and perfectly.” He encouraged you as he thrusted roughly instead of you causing you to cry out in pleasure. The sound of other hybrids in contaminate cheered Matias on as he continued to help you with your forced heat cycle.

Matias feels you tighten around him, he bites back a groan and he thrusts one last time before he paints your walls white, he orgasm triggers your own and you moan out his name as you creamed around his knotted cock. You start to whine as you feel the base of his cock start to swell inside of you. ”I know.. I know sweetheart this is just to help you a little bit more.” He reassured you as he nuzzled his face into your hair as he inhaled your sweet scent. Your body trembles as it slowly gets used to the stretch. After a few mins Matias’s knot swells down and he pulls out of you. You sighed in content as you felt his strong arms wrap around your chubby body. You felt him rub his hand over your chubby tummy. “Can’t wait to see your belly swell up with our pups.” He said affectionately as looked into your eyes. “I’ll protect you and our babies. I promise my love.” He said as he pressed his lips against yours. “I love you” He whispers against your lips.

Image from Pinterest by: Grafik Dizayn

[littelovelunette]

G!p Sevika cream pieing you, or cumming on your face, tits, back, stomach, mouth. Just alot of cum play hihi

Creamy

Contains Sevika G!P, drug use during sex (?), smut, blowjob, no protection, hair pulling, praising, doggy style, cream pie, cum play, aftercare

Sorry, I got carried away... This is so long...

"Baby, I have an interesting somerhing for you," you said. You and Sevika were both at Last Drop, and you had a little idea for an innocent prank that wasn't all too innocent. You had been down to the market and found chocolates that enhance libido.

You were aware Sevika had a naturally high libido as it was. But what was the fun in just letting it be as it was? You've experimented a lot in the bedroom with her and couples weeks back when she fucked you hard and rough under the influence of Shimmer, even if you did pass out it was amazing.

Today, you had different plans. TABS chocolate. Sevika obviously had no idea was that chocolate even was because let's be real, she doesn't care about chocolates.

"Are you gonna keep staring?" Sevika asked as she looked at you, cards in her mechanical hand as she took a sip of her drink.

"Here," you smiled and gave her a broken piece of the chocolate. Sevika raised a brow at the sight of the chocolate held out by you. "Chocolate? For me?"

You nodded with a smile, Sevika sighed and shook her head. "Whats the catch?"

"There is no catch, I just wanna give it to you because I've had too much already," you lied smoothly.

"Doll, what did I say about you having too many sweets?" Sevika said with a warning tone but despite that put the glass of alcohol down to take the chocolate.

"I'm sorry, I was just having a little craving," you said with a little grin.

You watched with sparkling eyes as she ate the chocolate. Now it was time to wait and watch the magic unravel.

The game continued, but you kept an eye on her. At first, nothing seemed different—Sevika played her cards, drank her whiskey, and exuded that effortless dominance.

But then, after a few minutes, you noticed a shift. The way she adjusted her seat, her tongue running over her teeth in thought. The brief pause before she took a sip of her drink, her fingers flexing against the rim of her glass.

Then, the glance. Subtle at first. A flicker of those sharp, dark eyes toward you. Another sip, slower this time. The way her throat moved as she swallowed.

You hid your grin behind your drink.

Sevika placed her cards down, winning the round with a smirk, then turned toward you, leaning in slightly. Her voice dipped lower, silkier. “That wasn’t just chocolate, was it, bunny?”

A slow smirk tugged at her lips. She finished her drink in one smooth motion and stood, rolling her shoulders. “Cash me out,” she told the dealer before turning to you. “You coming, or are you just going to sit there grinning like an idiot?”

"Mhm, coming," you got up, putting an arm in hers, pressing your tits against her through the thin fabric of your dress.

Sevika felt that, but didn't react. She didn't give you the satisfaction of seeing her flustered. Instead, she grabbed the cash and walked with you. Her steps were sharp and long making you have to run beside her to keep up with her pace.

"Don't go so fast!" You complained breathlessly making Sevika chuckle under her breath. "I hope you won't say the same in bed." You huffed a sigh at Sevika's words.

"Strip." Sevika said as you both reached her apartment bedroom. You blushed but complied, taking the straps down of your dress followed closely by your underwear.

You wondered what Sevika would be like under the influence of TABS chocolate although you were sure she was animalistic as it was even without the chocolate. Maybe this would get rougher that you'd anticipate. But to be frank, who'd turn down rough sex if it's with Sevika?

Sevika pushed you to your hands and knees by your hair making you wince, tears already appearing in your eyes from the sudden tug of your hair. You could smell the intoxicating smell for Sevika's cock.

It made your mind go all hazy and mushy, you slowly grabbed onto the shaft at the base. It was already leaking precum and throbbing in your hand. You could tell it was probably so sensitive by now.

"Fuck." Sevika cursed as she made a makeshift ponytail using your hair, holding it using her mechanical hand. "Ready to suck daddy off?" She asked with a smirk and you nodded, staring up at her with puppy eyes.

Sevika didn't miss a beat shoving her huge length down your throat with a new sort of force that made you gag when it hit the back of your throat. Sevika didn't relent, as if you gagging only made her hornier she started pumping her cock in your mouth successfully throat fucking you. You had to grab onto her thighs to steady your balance as you inches closer to her cock.

You couldn't breathe and you didn't want to. Right now all you needed was Sevika's huge veiny dick and you had that settled deep in your throat. You gasped a little as she shot her semen right in your mouth with no warning.

Sevika reached her flesh hand down to your mouth, smearing the cum on your face. "Yeah? Like that? Looking so pretty."

"Mmmph..." You could only let out a small muffled whine with your mouth still so full of cock. Sevika pulled it out slowly letting her shaft slap against your cheek getting your face even more soaked in her semen.

"Swallow." Sevika ordered and you did, swallowing down the thick liquid, "Now open." She held your bottom lip by her thumb of her flesh hand, opening your mouth up to check whether you've swallowed all of her cum. "Good girl."

Sevika picked you up with ease and laid you down on your back flat. She looked down at your clean shaven pussy, "Looks like someone prepared good." She taunted and you blushed looking away. Sevika didn't mind if you kept your pubic hair trimmed, shaven or waxed. It didn't matter to her.

Sevika pulled your legs open and thrusted her huge length inside breaking you out of your thoughts. "Oh my gosh!" You screamed and let out a loud moan.

Sevika laughed at the sight of you so surprised at the sheer length of her hard dick and started thrusting deep making the tip kiss your cervix with each powerful thrust.

It wasn't long until you were crying and babbling for her to stop but Sevika was nowhere done with you. Her cock continued to thrust in your raw, sore pussy as her thumb rubbed and pinched your clit making you buckle your hips at whatever contact your poor swollen clitoris got. Sevika's thrusts started getting sloppy. "I'm gonna fill this tight cunt up. Knock you up." She said through her heavy breaths and pants before she shot her loud in your tight cunt making you close your eyes in bliss.

"Daddy's cum..." You babbled mindlessly and Sevika grabbed a hold of your perky nipples, pulling them with a laugh. "D-daddy n-no not so rough please..."

"You like daddy's cum, don't you?" Sevika pulled her cock out and made you get on your hands and knees on the bed so she could pound you from behind. Sevika shoved her cock inside making your breath hitch, the new position making you feel tighter and her cock bigger.

"Fucking tight pussy." Sevika cursed out under her breath before she bit her bottom lip and started thrusting hard into your pussy making you clench onto her desperately trying to keep her warm, huge length tucked deep inside.

Hours passed and you both have been fucking like rabbits. You can't get enough of Sevika's semen. Your body was drenched in it by now and so were the sheets. You didn't care whether you got to cum or not but you needed Sevika's semen all over yourself for some reason. You just needed it. Needed it so badly.

"Daddy, can't, anymore," you managed to let out broken words as Sevika let go of your body, cumming the last time on your stomach and tits, a little on your face too. "Yeah? You're all spent?" You nodded weakly at her question. "C'mon then."

Sevika helped you up with ease and took her mechanical arm off, letting it rest on the bedside table so she could join you in a hot shower. It wasn't a problem, usually, her having her mech arm on during the shower but Sevika preferred to shower without it.

She helped you inside the shower room, settling you on the bathroom counter as she took out the shampoo and shower jel out of the cabinet. She took the tanktop she had on through the whole time with one hand, with practised ease.

You got off the counter, a little imprint of your ass left on the counter... Due to the semen.

Sevika saw it, smirking a little, she grabbed your ass tightly with her flesh hand and kissed you against the shower wall. You kissed her back, slowly turning the shower tap on using one hand, letting the water cascade down on the both of you while you both continued kissing.

"I guess we can tick off kissing under the rain." Sevika joked making you laugh a little. It was rare when she joked about something which actually seemed funny to you. Other than stupid, silly dad jokes. But you liked it in here now.

In Sevika's... Well, arm, right now.

[dollfacefantasy]

SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL ♡

pairing: homelander x fem!reader

summary: homelander has taken an interest in you, vought's new intern. no matter how you look at it, as a good or bad thing, it ends the same way: him getting what he wants.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, dubcon, p in v, oral (m receiving), body worship, sir kink, obsessive behavior, manipulation/coercion, age gap (reader in early 20s)

wc: 7.7k (oops lol)

a/n: hehe. never thought i would write for this man but it was pretty fun :) comm for my sweet beloved @gor3-hound love you so very much mwah mwah <33

At the junction of the V-shaped table, Homelander sat. With his back to the skyline and his gloved hands folded in front of him, he held the posture of a statue. Ashley had been rambling on and on and fucking on for the past five minutes about shit he couldn't care less about. Her nasally voice bounced off the tile floors and painted ceiling, ricocheting around him like a rogue bullet. Only his impregnable skin didn't protect him from the discomfort of this situation.

It was moments like these that really made him regret killing Stillwell.

That woman knew how to handle things. As manipulative as she could be, at least she wasn't absolutely insufferable. How could Stan let Ashley replace her? She was a poor excuse of just about everything. Absolutely spineless, unintelligent, reactionary, and opportunistic. He really couldn't picture any person on this Earth genuinely liking her.

However in the midst of his mental complaints, he realized that the annoying sound of her speaking was directed at him. All the other stares in the room were zeroed in on him too. A-Train observed in cautious silence. Noir's goggles reflected Homelander's own image right back at him. Maeve judged with a sideways glance. And Starlight prepared for the worst.

He tore his own bright blue eyes from the door opposite the table and refocused them on Ashley. They scanned over her thinning ginger locks down to her gaudy outfit - a piss poor attempt at imitating power.

"What?" he asked, his voice cutting through the air with a force similar to one of Maeve's swords.

Ashley blinked in return. Fear swirled in her wide eyes. She tried to maintain that empowered appearance she so desperately wished was real, but he could see the innate urge to cower bubbling within her.

"Was that lineup for the funeral ok with you, Homelander? A-Train and Noir open, Starlight sings, and then you close?" she repeated.

Now it was his turn to blink. Like he could actually give a shit about the order of segments for Translucent's funeral. He swallowed hard. While she projected a mirage of power, he had to do the same with level-headedness.

"That's fine, Ashley. Have those two go first, and Starlight can follow up with Amazing Grace or whatever shitty hymns they teach in that hick town she's from, and then I can finish us out," he responded.

He could see how her knuckles were going white around the edge of her clipboard. She gripped it for comfort, as if that could save her from his potential wrath. It only irritated him more. If he wanted her dead, he would turn her to ashes where she stood. How hard she braced herself in advance wouldn't matter in the slightest. But people could be so foolish in moments of terror.

"Well speaking of that," she said before clearing her throat, an attempt at a natural transition, "We were trying to decide what song she would sing. Maybe one of our originals? Or do you think it would be more tasteful to go with something from an outside source?"

Gritting his teeth, he buried the urge to unleash the bright beams of red from his sockets. His hands slid off one another and pressed down onto the cool table.

"Do you really need me to decide what song is going to send Translucent to the grave?" he replied, "I don't care what you play, and no one else attending will either. They'll be focused on working up some tears for the useless dipshit they never had the displeasure of knowing. Instead of trying to gain their approval, we should be working on finding the next member of the Seven who can replace him. There's no use dwelling on the past. We need to be preparing for the future."

He paused to let his words permeate the room, giving everyone a chance to absorb the sentiment and adapt accordingly. With his pupils still trained on Ashley, he planned on continuing his tirade, but his train of thought came to an abrupt halt.

Soft pitter-patters of footsteps clacked down the hall outside this room. They sounded in a delicate rhythm, only audible to him. As they grew louder, he caught the scent of the source too. Airy and light. A stark contrast to the brash perfume Ashley doused herself in.

The doors at the front of the room slid apart to reveal you.

You stood there for a moment. The realization that you'd interrupted something was visible in your eyes. The small spheres cast down as you wobbled in like a fawn that sensed wolves watching from nearby.

Ashley turned to face you, a glower already set on her features. The resentment she held for everyone else in this building awoke from its usual dormant slumber because there was finally someone weaker she could take it out on.

Once you reached her, your hand rose and gave her a thin stack of papers. 

"I'm sorry for interrupting. It's a memo from 82. They made it sound urgent," you explained, everything about your temperament meek and timid.

After a brief pause to let you marinate in the few moments before your inevitable humiliation, she snatched the papers from you. Her eyes roamed over the page with disinterest. Even if the information conveyed by the small black letters was important, he doubted she would give it any reaction. She wanted to lash out, and she was going to, whether it was justified or not.

"They couldn't have emailed me this?" she snapped, as if that was something you could control.

"I don't know. I'm sorry. I'll check next time," you offered.

"You better or you'll run out of next times," she threatened, "Incompetence like this won't fly here. You're in the big leagues now, so act like it. Think before you do something instead of taking commands like a lap dog."

"I'm sorry," you replied, ducking your head again.

"Don't be sorry, just do better," she commanded.

"I will," you agreed.

"Good. Just get out of here now. Go pick up my lunch," she told you.

His lips curled into a scowl as he watched the scene play out. It was pathetic - not you, but Ashley. He hated seeing the fucking smirk on her face as you walked away. She had nothing to be smug about. She was nothing more than a feral coyote going after the scraps the other predators didn't take.

To make matters worse, when she returned her attention to the group at the table, she saw the look on his face. She saw the disdain, but instead of striking regret into her, it only deepened her sense of self-satisfaction.

She thought the look was for you. That he was disgusted with your mistake. Annoyed with your intrusion.

He couldn't have that. Not when that assumption was the farthest thing from the truth. Honestly, he didn't know if he was even capable of feeling such ire towards you. Not his precious little fawn.

Rising from his seat, his glare remained on Ashley. She did show a little fear then.

"You know, I don't have all day, Ashley. I'll open Translucent's funeral, Starlight will follow up with a song, and that will be it. A-Train and Noir can have the day off, because let's be honest, nobody will give shit either way," he mocked.

"But, sir-" she said, clearly confused by his sudden impending departure.

"I have more important things to deal with. If you need anything else, I'm sure one of the others can help you," he dismissed.

With that, he stepped back from the table and began heading to the doors. He hoped if he was fast enough he could still catch you. Even in a building as sleek and modern as this one, the elevators could be quite slow.

Walking out into the hall, his head swiveled in the direction you would have gone. For once, his own portrait didn't catch his eye. He didn't even think about stopping by Stillwell's office to reminisce. Instead, he just headed down towards the elevator. His red boots thudded across smooth tile in rapid succession, covering the path you'd just taken.

Finally, after a few feet, he spotted you. Bottom lip pulled between your teeth. Eyes glossy with embarrassment. Tip of your polished shoe tapping against the ground. You startled when his voice boomed across the space, calling out your name. So cute.

You looked at him with fear in your eyes, but disgust didn't fester in the pit of his stomach like it did when others gave him that anxious stare. Another feeling bloomed inside him, one he couldn't really place. It was just that the nervous gleam over your pupils didn't make him hate himself and all the circumstances of his life that put him in his position.

Instead, your wide eyes and pouty lips made him feel strong. You made him feel like a hero. A real one, not the artificial caricature that Vought projected to the world. With you nearby, he felt like the kind of guy who deserved the American flag blowing off his back with a pretty girl cradled in his arms and a dead enemy at his feet. When you gazed up at him, he could only imagine that the pride rushing through his chest and confidence pooling between his hips was the feeling his creators intended for him.

"Did you need something from me, sir?" you asked, reminding him that he actually had to provide a reason to talk to you. Just wanting to stare at you like a psychopath would not suffice unfortunately.

"Oh no," he waved off, "The meeting just finished up. I was heading out too. I saw you, and I realized I haven't really taken the time to get to know you yet, which is unfortunate because I usually like to be familiar with the newer people we have working with us."

A complete lie. Before you, he didn't remember ever giving any of the interns a second glance. They were true nuisances. They were Ashleys.

"Oh... well I'm around whenever you wanna talk. Ashley keeps me busy, but I'm sure I could make an exception for you," you replied.

"You absolutely can make an exception for me," he chuckled, "If Ashley gives you any trouble, just let me know, and I'll make sure she remembers who's really in charge around here."

It wasn't until he heard your heart rate increase that he realized those words probably came off as threatening. Well, they were threatening, but you weren't supposed to see him that way.

"I'm kidding," he forced out with a laugh, "Just joking around like I do... I just don't want you to worry about getting in some kind of trouble for me sniffing around you."

You huffed out an awkward laugh of your own and nodded.  "I'll be sure to make some time for you in the future then and let Ashley know it was at your direction."

"Great," he said with probably too much enthusiasm. 

His jaw clenched into one of his usual tight smiles. He averted his eyes from you and looked towards the numbers on the elevator. Fuck, it was reaching the bottom. He didn't want to let you go, but it wasn't like he could just stroll down the street with you to go get Ashley's lunch. His mind scrambled to come up with a solution.

But like your earlier intrusion into the meeting, your gentle voice cuts through the hurricane forming in his head.

"Are you alright, sir?" you ask, anxious concern written all over your features.

He refocused on you and nodded. His arm extended out behind you, his palm landing against the elevator wall. As he leaned in, he could smell your adrenaline spiking. He could hear the shift of your shoe against the ground. If only he possessed a sixth sense for the mind, so he could know what little thoughts about him were flitting through your head.

"I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me," he answered. He smiled down at you, observing the slight nod you gave him in return.

"Of course not. It probably seems silly coming from me," you said.

His brows raised in amusement. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

He saw the flash of regret in your eyes. The one people always gave him when he asked a question in that tone. The one that came from the panic of realizing they may have said something that offended Homelander.

You suppressed it pretty well though and brought out a smile that gave the impression that you hoped he was messing with you instead.

"Well you know... because you're you," you said and tilted your head in an innocent way that made his chest ache.

He chuckled that charming, prepackaged laugh that had been trained into him. "Even I can appreciate someone taking an interest in checking on me," he replied.

It was maddening, how bad he wanted you. He wasn't even sure when this craving had sprouted inside him. He had been so preoccupied with his affinity for Stillwell that his fixation with you struck him like a glass window in front of a flying bird. But no matter the timeframe in which it blossomed, it had taken root by now and wasn't going to go away on its own.

When he looked at you like this - staring up at him with earnest fascination - his mind drifted to darker places all on its own. He couldn't stop it if he wanted to (and really, he didn't want to). It's just how was he not supposed to be aware of the fact that it would be all too easy to take you back to his room? How could he not think about what it would feel like to have your fragile body beneath his own in private? How could he not wonder what you'd sound like crying out in a sinful mix of pleasure and pain?

Hell, how was he supposed to pretend like he couldn't just bend you over and fuck you dumb right here in the middle of this elevator if he wanted to? No one would be able to stop him. There wouldn't be a thing they could do other than watch. They could stare in horror as he used you like he deserved, as he pounded into your warm, soft, dripping hole like he needed...

Unfortunately, painting that picture in his head had his blood rushing South. He felt the subtle simmer of desire in his pelvis, and he knew in no time his length would be filling out. This suit gave him no way of hiding it either. Clearly, whoever made it hadn't anticipated the Homelander popping a boner on the job.

But luckily for him, the elevator chimed with its arrival at the bottom floor. He straightened out as you looked ahead in preparation of your departure. But before you could go, he grabbed your arm. His touch was tender, holding the same force he'd use when cradling a baby at a photo-op.

"Maybe later tonight you'd like to take me up on one of those talks? After you're done for the day, you could stop by my place. The sooner the better, right?" he asked.

Your eyes widened ever so slightly, but you still nodded. "Um... sure thing. I'll head up once I've finished all my work. It should be around six if that's ok?" you offered.

"Yeah, that works for me. I'll be waiting," he said in an attempt to be playful.

You smiled once more and then headed out of the elevator. His fingertips dragged down your arm to your wrist as you walked away before you finally slipped from his grasp. He could hear your heart pounding faster than your footsteps as you headed towards the exit of the building.

At six o'clock sharp, a knock sounded through his penthouse. And it only took him a few seconds to swing the door open and greet you.

"There she is," he beamed with exaggerated politeness.

You smiled modestly in return, shrugging and smoothing out a crease in your blouse. "I couldn't let the leader of the seven down," you joked.

He scoffed but opened the door wider, beckoning you into his place. You took the invitation and crossed the threshold. Your eyes glanced around the place, taking note of all the things in the apartment that housed the most powerful man on Earth.

The American flag taking up an entire wall almost stopped you in your tracks. It would've been funny if it was someone else, but because it belonged to him, it stood there like a warning. You tried not to show how daunting you found it. Average people could be touchy about that famous piece of cloth. You didn't want to find out if the strongest supe felt the same through means of offending him. 

In place of letting that bother you, you shifted your attention over to all the historical pictures hanging on the walls and the sleek surfaces and drawers filled with things you couldn't begin to imagine. Your eyes casted over the statues accenting the space as well. It was all so very polished. It looked like what you'd expect the Homelander entry in an Ikea catalog to be.

"So what do you think?" he asked. He knew his words came off as stiff. Probably a little stilted sounding. He just couldn't help it. For the first time, he couldn't get a read on how you felt through physical signs alone. And right now, he really really wanted you to like him.

"It's... impressive," you answered.

But he could hear the hesitation in your voice. In each word, there was the same wavering quality to it that you get when Ashley grilled you in front of an audience. It wasn't the precious reverence that he saw in the elevator. The nervous kind of admiration you held for someone above your standing. This was just plain anxiety, and that served no purpose to him. 

Despite your trepidation however, you walked forward to the window at the back of the place. You looked out over the city in awe.

"I would love to live somewhere high up like this," you said.

He came up from behind to stand next to you in front of the glass panes. His eyes landed on your face. You stared out the window, wonder twinkling in your eyes. Your voice sounded almost breathless. It was adorable.

"No fear of heights?" he asked.

"Not when it comes to being inside. Maybe I'd be nervous if we were on a balcony or something," you replied.

"Oh come on. You'd have nothing to worry about if you were with me. I'd never let you fall," he said, dropping his voice a few octaves.

You made that cute little face again when those words hit your ears. Your eyes widened before they fell to look at your shoes. So modest, the way you shied away. He wondered if you were always so timid or if it was only when a god amongst men like himself flirted with you.

He chuckled and reached out, tilting your chin back up to look at him. "You don't need to be nervous," he soothed, "There's no safer place to be than with the Homelander, right?"

You nodded right along. His words left no room for objection.

"Good girl," he smirked and dragged a gloved thumb over your cheek. He pulled his hand back and stepped in the direction of the brown leather sectional that sat in the middle of the room.

"Come over here and sit down. We can talk," he directed.

Following him to the large couch, you took your seat near the corner. You assumed he'd sit at the other end or at least towards the middle of the perpendicular cushions, but no. He sat down in the corner with you. His body was at most a foot away.

He continued to smile at you though he didn't speak. It felt odd, sitting there in silence across from him. He wasn't doing anything overtly threatening, yet you still felt at his mercy.

"So, do you like it here so far? Do you feel like you're fitting into the Vought family?" he asked with a bit of an edge to that second word.

You nodded again. A relieved breath seeped from your lungs as the tense void in conversation came to an end. "Yeah, it's nice here. I feel like I'm learning a lot."

He chuckled and leaned back against the stiff backing of the sofa. His muscular arm draped along the top. Though it wasn't his intention to draw your focus there, he caught the way your eyes dragged over his bicep.

"That's good," he said, "It can be a lot when you're new. I wouldn't want you feeling overwhelmed."

"That's nice of you. I appreciate it, but I'm used to a busy schedule," you replied.

"You're freshly graduated, aren't you?" he checked.

"Yeah," you said, your lips quirking upwards at his guess.

"I thought so. You have that cute, wide-eyed, optimistic thing going for you."

A small laugh leaves your lips. "I know. Ashley said I'll grow out of it by the end of this quarter."

His face dropped, and he almost abandoned the prince charming act he was attempting to pull off for you. The mere mention of Ashley was enough to irk him, but the thought that she was trying to change you? Not only change you but jade you. To strip away the soft and sweet qualities that hooked him on you in the first place. It was criminal. He couldn't hide his disdain.

"You shouldn't listen to her," he said. He wasn't angry, but his cadence held intensity. "Ashley's problem is Ashley. To be honest, I don't even know why they gave her an intern. It's not like she'd be good at teaching anything when she still doesn't understand most things about our business herself."

Your fingers dug into the edge of your seat. It wouldn't have been significant in a normal conversation, but when speaking with a man who could hear a pin drop forty stories down, he noticed.

"You're still nervous," he observed.

In an instant, your hands flew to your lap, like you knew what gave your anxiety away. You fidgeted with the hem of your skirt and shrugged.

"A little," you admitted.

"Are you scared of me?" he asked.

You shook your head without even thinking about the question.

"No, it's not that. I swear," you reassured, "It's just that this is a big deal for me. I'm really honored you want to get to know me, and I just want to make a good impression."

"You don't need to worry about that. I wouldn't have invited you here if I didn't have a good impression of you," he said.

You sighed slightly, letting out a bit of tension, but he could still smell that boosted cortisol running through your blood.

"Come here," he ordered, his voice soft but undeniably firm.

"What?" you asked.

A puff of amused air blew from his nostrils. "Come here," he repeated, "Sit closer."

As if you needed the guidance, he patted the space directly beside his hip. He could see the uncertainty in your eyes even after the gesture. The lack of understanding toward his reasoning persisted. Regardless of your skepticism however, you scooted in his direction and ended up where he wanted you.

"That's better," he said.

With careful fingers, he slipped the glove off his right hand. Your eyes locked on it in subtle awe. You'd seen this man on billboards and commercials for years. His face dominated newscasts. His voice broadcast over the radio on a weekly basis. Still, you had never seen such a human part of him. Five fingers and a palm reaching for your own.

They clasped around your hand. His skin was smooth. The gloves preserved them from any marks of experience.

"Did Ashley warn you about me?" he asked, drawing your eyes back to his own.

Your heart thundered, but you couldn't lie. Never had Vought bragged about Homelander being a human lie detector, but in this moment, you felt like that was the case.

"Yes," you responded.

He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "You didn't believe her, did you?" he asked.

You could tell he already knew the answer. He just wanted to hear it.

"Yes," you whispered again.

"What did she tell you?"

It was hard to remember that conversation you'd had a few weeks ago with Ashley. Feeling like you were two seconds away from having lasers beamed through your skull made minute details fuzzy and distant, but you manage to choke a few out anyways.

"She said that you have a very specific vision for the Seven, and that you'll do anything to make your dreams reality. She was just saying you're ambitious. That you care about the greater good," you summarized.

"I have a feeling you're saying it a lot nicer than she did," he teased. He could feel the fear rolling off of you in waves, and in a moment, he would rectify that. But for right now, he didn't mind letting his precious little fawn tremble in terror for a few moments more.

"Yeah, she can be kind of blunt," you said with a shaky laugh.

"That's one word for it," he said.

"She's not gonna get in trouble because of what I said, is she?" you asked.

He couldn't help laughing at that. The sound came out low and throaty. You were just so fucking pure. Worried about protecting someone who wouldn't hesitate for a second to sell you out if it meant she could climb up another rung on the corporate ladder.

His exposed thumb rubbed back and forth over your knuckles. "No. Of course not. We're just talking," he said.

He leaned in closer to you, positioning his mouth in close proximity to your ear. His free hand came up to cup your jaw.

"I appreciate your honesty though. Ashley probably couldn't tell you this, but I appreciate a loyal girl like you," he murmured.

On both your hand and through his glove in contact with your chin, he could feel your skin heat up.

"Oh... thank you, sir," you said.

He chuckled. His fingers squished into the flesh of your cheeks, making your lips puff out as though they were seeking a kiss.

"So polite, but I like that. We need more people here who understand their place," he said.

At this point, the gravity of your circumstances began to settle on you. Your fear had worn off a bit, and you realized what a compromising position he had you in. With one tight squeeze, he could crush every bone in your face.

Out of instinct, you tried pulling back a little. You didn't make it obvious, only attempting to gain a few inches of space.

That was a few inches too many though. He tightened his grip and kept you where he wanted you.

"Ah ah," he tutted, "How many times do I have to tell you that you don't need to be scared? I'm not going to hurt you."

You dropped the resistance right then and there. It wasn't worth pursuing. If he didn't want you getting away, you weren't getting away.

He took a few more seconds to study your face, taking in every minutiae of your expressions. Then, his hands dropped to your waist, and he pulled you into his lap. His thighs were firm against your ass, both rigid in how he carried himself and defined from the pure muscle that made them up.

His hands smoothed up and down your sides, coasting over each crease in your blouse. He massaged your soft tissue with gentle squeezes from the beginning of your bra down to the swell of your hips.

"God, you're beautiful," he muttered, "You fit here like you were made for me."

You vibrated in his grasp. He could feel the way you quivered with the urge to pull away.

"Thank you, s-sir," you stammered, "I really appreciate it but-"

"But nothing," he cut you off.

"But I don't think we should be... doing this," you tried to continue anyway.

"Why not?" he asked. Though his tone made it obvious that no matter what reason you provided, it wouldn't change his mind.

"Because you're like my boss, y'know? And I worked really hard to get my spot here, and I don't want people thinking I slept my way to where I am," you explained, "You're really nice, and I admire you a lot, but it wouldn't be right."

He didn't respond immediately. He paused and let your words hang in the air for a few moments.

"You know," he finally spoke, "I don't think you understand how things work around here. It doesn't matter what anyone else in this building thinks. Only me."

You blinked at him, unsure of how to respond to such an assertion. It didn't matter though. He continued without your input.

"What I do with you, how I feel about you - no one else will know about it unless you tell them. But even if you do and even if they care, there isn't a thing they'll do about it. There's not a thing they can do about it," he continued.

"I still don't think it's a good idea," you maintained.

"Good thing this isn't for you to think about then," he mocked, "You're a fast learner. You'll figure it out soon enough. I am God in this tower. And a god doesn't listen to his subjects. He guides them. He knows best."

One of his hands slid up your tummy and over your chest onto your throat. He cupped your jaw and swiped his thumb back and forth across your bottom lip.

"What did Ashley tell you about me?" he asked.

"That no one gets in your way."

"Good. And she was right. No one gets in my way. Nothing stops me from getting what I want. And I've wanted you for too fucking long not to try you out."

That set of fingers on your chin pulled your face towards his and brought you into a kiss. You froze against his lips. It felt as though all of time stopped. This high up, you couldn't hear the sounds of the city outside the penthouse. No one existed in this moment but you and him.

Unlike you, he melted into the exchange. He sighed against your skin and pulled you flush against his toned body. After a second to let you come to terms with what was happening, he kissed you again. His lips sucked on yours gently, attempting to coax you into returning the affection.

The most he got is you puckering them up ever so slightly.

He pulled away with frustration in his eyes and grabbed your face, jerking you a little to look at him.

"Don't act like you don't want this. I know you do," he said, "You're scared, but you don't need to be. Relax and let yourself enjoy this. It's not everyday that the most powerful man on earth wants to fuck you."

Your eyes blew up like little saucers, but before you could really process the directness of what he'd said, he was kissing you again. This time it wasn't as nerve wracking. You softened up a little and kissed back.

You didn't put much effort into it. Your lips responded like this was a juvenile first date. But he didn't let up. He didn't let you give him anything less than your best. His hands roamed across your body. They groped and fondled your breasts and then migrated South to feel up your ass through your pencil skirt.

Your muscles started to loosen up after a minute or so. You told yourself this wasn't so bad. He was being gentle so far, and for someone with his abilities, you wanted it to stay that way. You brought your hand up to his face and cupped his cheek. With that as leverage, you deepened the kiss.

He groaned as soon as you started to give in. His hands fell to your hips and tugged you so that you were straddling him. He smacked your ass, the sound echoing around his apartment. You could tell he held back. A real spank from Homelander could shatter your hip, but this one barely even stung. Maybe he did like you.

His fingers came up and with a sharp tug, he popped the front of your top loose. The column of buttons sprung free. The strips of cloth fell away to each of your sides, exposing a sliver of your skin. He furthered it by pulling off the garment entirely. His eyes trailed along your bare shoulders to your collar bone before finally landing on your breasts. He gave them a firm squeeze, kneading them through the barrier of your bra.

Meanwhile you rolled your hips down on his lap. Immediately, you felt his bulge that had risen to attention between your thighs. You did it again and then again. Each time you ground yourself against him with more pressure.

He grunted, and his eyes fluttered. His hands returned to your waist and gripped you hard, guiding your movements. He seemed transfixed for a few moments, as if he couldn't decide his next move.

After a few seconds though, he got his momentum back. He yanked you off his lap and flipped over so that you were seated on the couch again.

He rose to his feet before you. There your eyes scanned over his body from his tousled blond hair and his kiss-swollen red lips to his sculpted abdomen and his swelling erection. You reached out to touch him, but he stopped your hand mid-air.

Once your arm was limp on the couch again, he removed his other glove. He dropped it to the floor before bringing his right boot to the spot on the sofa next to you. He unzipped the red shoe and then discarded it like he had with the other item. The other boot followed the same routine.

"I don't let just anyone see me like this," he told you as his fingers began to undo his collar, "You should feel lucky."

Lucky wasn't the word you would use to describe your feelings in this situation. Maybe special. Or distinct. Individual. Either way, you continued to watch. Your eyes glided over his figure as he pulled away the tight blue costume that seemed like a second-skin for how much he wore it.

His defined chest came into view. Your reluctance hadn't vanished all together just yet, but at this point, it was fading fast. Pale hair dusted the muscular expanse and trailed down his stomach to the waistband of the bottoms. The waistband he soon hooked his fingers over and peeled down.

He dropped the scaled navy fabric to the ground before kicking it away, leaving himself in just a small pair of boxers. His hand came down and rubbed the swollen tent at the front while his eyes lingered on you.

"Do you want to touch?" he asked.

You nodded. It wasn't a hard decision. This was still a bad idea. You hadn't changed your mind on that. But at this point, what else was there to do? Defying Homelander wasn't an option for anyone on this planet ever. You were no different.

"Ask," he commanded.

"Please can I touch you?" you said.

"Please what?"

"Please, sir. Can I touch you?"

"Good girl," he praised before nodding, "Go for it."

You reached out, this time successfully. Your palm landed flat on his stomach. You held it there for a moment, just feeling his skin. In a way, it was unreal. To feel that someone propped up on the world's pedestal was flesh and blood like you.

Rubbing up and down, you continued getting a feel for his body. He smirked at your wonder before guiding you up by the elbow.

"Stand up and do it right," he said.

"Sorry."

The word came from your mouth automatically. You brought your other hand up to his chest and felt the muscles in his chest. Everything was so built. You expected that, but it was still odd to feel beneath your fingertips. He felt like a living ken doll. You almost didn't believe if he dropped his boxers there would be a real cock there.

Your hands traced up to his shoulders with precision. They explored down his biceps and forearms. And then finally, you brought your lips into his chest. He sighed and tilted his head back, relishing the feeling.

You kissed all over, swirling your tongue and tracing shapes onto his skin. It was almost entrancing, to be so focused on someone like this. You barely noticed as he turned the two of you and sat himself down on the couch, lowering you to your knees.

You worked your mouth down his abs, licking and kissing the twitching muscles. Your fingernails scraped up his sides and then down onto his thighs. When your lips reached the waistband of his boxers, your eyes glanced up at him.

"Can I take them off, sir?" you asked.

He smirked at the title. Only one word of correction and he'd trained that phrase into you.

"Yes," he answered. It was a simple answer. All that was required for someone so naturally obedient.

You took it in stride, tucking your fingers over the elastic and tearing them down. His hard cock popped up and slapped against his pelvis. You couldn't have been happier about your earlier ken doll theory being proven wrong. The sight of his dick was enough to make you drool. It was better than any work of art out there.

It rested against his body at the perfect length, the perfect girth. The tip flushed beautiful red and pearly white beads of precum smeared at the top. Your fingers wrapped around it and gave it a few strokes, testing the waters.

His hand came down and petted your head. He watched as you studied the appendage, as you experimented with your own touch. It was so fucking cute he thought he might cum right then and there. Fuck, he thought you were sweet every moment he had eyes on you, but right now, you were darling. You were doing as he said. Accepting your place at the feet of a superior being.

"Put it in your mouth," he said from above, "I want you to taste it."

There was no hesitation on your end this time around.

"Yes sir," you responded before leaning forward and wrapping your lips around his cock.

He groaned and let his chest hollow out with a harsh exhale. Your mouth was so warm and wet, nice and snug around his length. He rocked his hips up, pushing it further into your throat. He expected a small gag or sputter, but instead you moaned. You shut your eyes and flattened your tongue against his shaft before beginning to bob your head.

"Fuck," he hissed. His legs tensed up, and he pressed down on your head. That did get a tiny gag out of you. You gripped his hips to stabilize yourself though and stayed in place. Your nose nestled against the darker curls of hair that sat at the base of his cock.

Spit leaked from your mouth and dribbled onto his skin below. He took a few moments to just enjoy the feeling of his dick down your throat. The sight of his sweet, innocent girl choking on his cock. Then he let you pull off and catch your breath. 

You took a few deep puffs, letting the spots clear from your vision before you dove back in for more. Your hand stroked the lower part of him your mouth didn't cover in its shallow sucks while your other set of fingers caressed his balls tenderly.

He'd never experienced devotion. As much as it pained him to ever acknowledge, his sexual experiences had been lackluster up until now. There were the times with Maeve, but they always left something to be desired for him. Then there was the time with Stillwell that ended before it really started. In either case, no one had ever put all of themselves into pleasuring him like you were doing right now. It drove him wild. He could feel his sac tightening up, and he knew he had to get you off.

Planting one hand on each side of your head, he tugged you back. You looked up at him with glossy, cock-drunk eyes and saliva-coated lips. He swiped some of the mess away before addressing you.

"You're doing so good for me, but I think you're ready for more, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," you agreed.

"My perfect pet," he crooned and pulled you up onto the couch.

He laid you flat on your back and ripped your skirt and panties off in one go. His eyes drank in the sight of your nude lower half, but he didn't spend much time savoring it. He spread you out, slotting himself against your center.

With a few rocks of his hips, he dragged his length through your wetness. He let the sticky fluid coat his shaft, and then he sunk in. His tip bullied its way into your entrance and the rest of him followed. You whined at the stretch. Your walls clamped around him, eager to accept the intrusion.

"Atta girl," he grunted as he worked himself all the way in.

His hips connected with your ass, but he still bucked them, trying to get more. You yelped at the force. He was already buried inside you. Anymore and his tip would be nudging the entrance to your womb.

Fortunately for you, he pulled his hips back, giving you a short break from feeling so full. It was short lived though. Seconds later he snapped back in. That began the quick rhythm he set into. It was desperate and needy, emotions he'd tried to hide until this point.

You whimpered as your body bobbed with the momentum. His thrusts bounced you back and forth. The sounds of his body smacking against yours filled the room. His fingers dug into your waist hard enough to bruise. You didn't complain about the minor pain though because you could tell he was holding back in every other regard. If a few marks on your side kept you from being pulverized by a super cock, then that was a burden you were willing to carry.

Above you, he starts to pant. His breaths leave him raggedly huffing, sucking down what oxygen he can get in the midst of rutting into you. He tilts his head down at you and gazes at your blissed out face with lidded eyes.

"I could have anyone. Any person on this Earth would be mine if I wanted them to be. But the only one I want is you. Doesn't that feel good?" he breathed.

"Yes!" you cried out. Your back arched up off the couch. "Feels so fucking good, sir."

He leaned into you more, squishing your body into the surface below. Your thighs pressed against your tummy as he bent you.

"Yeah, it does," he grunted, "It's all there is. It's all you need to think about. How you're all mine."

"Mhm," you whined with a lazy nod. You were getting closer to cumming and responding to his words was taking a lower priority in your mind.

"And to think you tried to deny yourself of it," he mocked. He clenched his jaw and slammed into you harder.

You shrieked and clutched his shoulders. In the back of your mind, you hoped his penthouse was sound proofed or at least enough distance from the nearest one. Otherwise you wouldn't have to tell anyone about this incident for it to spread throughout the tower.

"I knew better, didn't I? I knew this is what you needed," he said.

Again, you nodded. You felt the heat in your belly reaching the boiling point.

"Say it," he huffed.

You tried to force it out, but your own hiccuped sob of pleasure cut you off. He didn't give you a break though. He stared down at you with expectation, so you continued.

"You know best- uh, fuck- you know best, sir," you whined.

"Good fucking girl," he growled on top of you.

He was already close from the blowjob you'd given him. Only a few strokes more, and he was ready to explode. He swiveled his hips, angling them upwards to pound into that special spot that would make you see stars and stripes.

You mewled when you came. Your body trembled harder than it did when you were scared. Arousal gushed out of you and coated his skin. He huffed and buried his face in your neck before letting go.

Everything faded into the background as you laid underneath him in the haze that came after the absolute high of pleasure. Now you could feel his heartbeat too. The organ thundered against his chest over and over as he came down.

Minutes later he pulled back. His knuckles caressed down your jawline before he climbed off of you entirely. He sat back on the couch and let out a deep breath. You weren't sure whether you were supposed to pick up your stuff and leave or follow along with him and stay close to his side. There was no real indication of what he wanted in this moment, but he turned to smile at you and huffed out a laugh.

"I think I'll keep you with me more often now. Really show you the ropes of fitting in around here."

You sat up and nodded awkwardly. He leaned toward you, cupping your cheek.

"I'll be a much better teacher than Ashley ever was," he said. His arm snaked around you and pulled you to his chest again. "No more errands or coffee runs. I'll show you things you need. Things that you'll enjoy."

He ran his fingers over your face and kissed your temple. The touches were tender against your skin. They would have been romantic if your mind wasn't racing with what this all meant in terms of your job and the grand scheme of your future.

Looking at him though, he wasn't worried at all. He smiled down at you before whispering once more.

"My sweet little pet. All mine now."

[whimsiwitchy]

he's hooked (oneshot)

hugh jackman x actress!reader

summary: y/n is an actress in her early 20’s. after having the best night of her career, Hugh Jackman introduces himself. the two stars hook up in the venue's bathroom and for y/n it was nothing but a one night stand. However, Hugh becomes obsessed and can’t let her go so easily.

warnings: use of y/n, she/her pronouns, age gap (22/55), smut, protected vaginal penetration, dirty talk, reader is kinda cocky, hugh is very persistent, reader mentions age gap a lot, oral (f receiving), one use of daddy (in a playful way), bathroom sex.

authors note: y'all I am trying my absolute best to write smut. this is my second attempt and while i'm not super proud of it, I am proud of myself for trying. practice makes perfect I guess lol. anyways, I hope you enjoy. (sorry if it sucks butt) love y'all <33

 Tonight felt like a dream. It was the 97th Academy Awards and you had won your first Oscar for best actress. When your name was called, you were completely shocked. The category was filled with nominees that you had looked up to your entire life and you genuinely thought you had no shot of winning. You were completely honored to win such an award so early into your career. After the ceremony was over, most of the attendees made their way over to the Oscars Governors Ball, which was one of the few after parties that are held annually after the event. It felt surreal to be in a place full of Hollywood's biggest names and it was even crazier that you were now one of them. You were currently sitting at the bar waiting for a drink when a deep accented voice spoke. “Congratulations on your big win tonight. You deserve it.” When you look over to see who was speaking, you’re met with a very handsome Hugh Jackman. “Oh thank you. Congrats to you too, best actor.” Your tone is teasing yet sincere. “I’m Hugh.” He offers his hand to shake, which you take. “I know who you are, Mr.Jackman. I’m y/n.” You shake his hand firmly, letting it go right after. “I know who you are, Ms. y/l/n.” He joked back and you let out a small laugh. You look forward as the bartender sits your drink in front of you and you give him a quick thank you. From the corner of your eye, you can see Hugh’s eyes trail your body. “Did you just check me out?” You turn your head to face him. “It’s hard not to when you look that good.” Hugh says without missing a beat. “Aren’t you married? I don’t think your wife would appreciate you hitting on a twenty two year old.” You give him an accusing look. He lifts his left hand, showing off his bare ring finger. “I'm divorced, babe.” You almost miss the smirk that rests on his bearded face. 

“Hm. Well in that case, there are plenty of beautiful women here your own age here that would happily go home with you tonight. Maybe you should flirt with them.” You turn back to your drink, taking a long sip through the skinny straw. “None of them are as pretty as you. You’re the most gorgeous woman here by far.” You let out a laugh of disbelief. “Bye Hugh Jackman. It was nice meeting you.” You slowly climb down the tall ball stool and grab your drink. Before you can walk off, Hugh calls your name, causing you to turn back towards him. “I’d love to take you out to dinner sometime.” He smiles and you’d be lying if you said the sight didn’t make your heartbeat stutter. “You know that Real Steel was my favorite movie when I was like eleven. Does that make my age more apparent to you or do you not care?” He furrows his brows, pretending to think for a moment. “Hm. I don’t think I care very much.” You laugh, dropping your head. “You’re unbelievable.” He smiles. “So is that a yes?” “No.” You smile and walk away. 

—

Your friend Kayleigh was ranting to you about a technical issue that happened during her performance earlier in the night and you were trying your best to pay attention. Sometime in between the chat you had with Hugh and now, he had removed the black suit jacket he had on. The sleeves of his white button up dress shirt were rolled up, showing off his large forearms, his biceps peaking out slightly. It was overly distracting. “Girl what the fuck are you staring at?” She moves her head around trying to match your staring gaze. “Y/n please don’t tell me you're staring at that old man right now.” You give her a sheepish look. “God, straight people are so fucking weird.” She sighs. “It’s not weird. He’s kinda hot.” You admit. “Whatever you say. Why don’t you just go talk to him? I’m almost positive he’d fuck you if you ask.” You look back over to where Hugh is talking to some older woman, just like you had suggested. “I kinda already turned him down. Well, not for sex. He asked me to dinner.” Her face scrunches up. “Ew. He’s like older than your parents.” You laugh. “Is it bad that I find that hot?” She nods. “Yes y/n. That’s like really fucking weird dude.” You ignore her. “Should I go try to get him to fuck me?” You ask, genuinely wanting her opinion. “If that’s really what you’re into these days, go for it. I’m highly disgusted by you right now though.” You stand up and grab the small clutch you had with you. “Eh. You’ll get over it. You’ll be okay on your own for a little bit?” She gives you a thumbs up and you make your way over to Hugh and the woman he was speaking to. 

“Hi, sorry to interrupt.” You apologize and turn to Hugh. “Could I talk to you alone for a moment?” He looks confused and completely caught off guard. “Uh, yea.” He turns to the woman. “It was nice to catch up with you.” She says something back that you don’t catch, too busy staring at the vein that is basically jumping out of Hugh’s arm. “You wanted to talk to me?” His words bring you out of your thirsting trance. “Follow me.” You grab his hand, dragging him through a door and into a hallway. “Where are we going?” He asks, taken aback by your lack of plan. “I’m not sure.” You say as you continue to drag him. “Y/n slow down, we can talk here. There’s no one out here.” He stops walking and it makes you tumble back, his grip on your hand stopping you from continuing forward. “We need somewhere private.” His confused expression only deepens. “I don’t know how much more private this can get darling. If it’s really that much of a secret, we can stop talking if someone comes by.” He offers and you huff. “I don’t actually wanna talk Hugh.” 

“You’re confusing me here darling.” You wiggle your hand out of his and raise it to your head in frustration. “I want you to fuck me.” You look at him and his eyes go wide. “I’m sorry…what?” “If you don’t want to, that's fine, we can go back.” Your confidence began to falter. “Wait, that’s not what I'm saying.” 

“So you want to fuck me?” He takes a moment to think before answering.

“Yes.” 

“Then help me find somewhere private.” The two of you make your way down the never ending hallway, checking every door you see. Hugh opens a door and closes it, making his way down the hallway. Seeing as it was the only door that opened so far, you went to check it yourself and saw that it was an empty bathroom. “Why’d you keep going, this is perfect.” You shout at him. “I’m not fucking you in a bathroom.” He looks at you like that was obvious. “Well it’s not like we have any other options. Come on.” You go inside and wait for him. Once he’s inside you motion to the door. “Lock it.” You tell him. “We’re really doing this?” He asks, confirming. “Unless you don’t want to.” He takes a pause before speaking again. “Get your pretty ass over here.” He growls. 

You walk over to him slowly. He pulls you close to him once you’re in arms reach and you look up at him through your lashes. “Too damn sexy for your own good.” He whispers before leaning down and locking his lips with yours. The feeling of his beard against your skin was addicting. The kiss was slow at first, both of you testing the waters with each other. It was you who begged to enter his mouth, tongue sliding against his lips. You didn’t want to come off so desperate but you needed more from him. His large hands slid down to your ass, giving it a tight squeeze that has you gasping. His tongue dives into your mouth, exploring every crevice. It’s messy but it’s hot. “Jump.” He commands and you listen. His hands grab the back side of your thighs and he walks you over to the counter, sitting you down inbetween two of the sinks. His lips are back on yours the moment your body touches the cold surface. 

“You sure you want to do this baby?” He asks. “Positive.” You breathe out. Hugh bends down, sitting on both of his knees. Grabbing your ankle, he gives kisses to the skin that your heel doesn’t cover. He moves upward, leaving long sensual kisses up your calf and thigh, raising the end of your dress as he goes. As simple as the gesture was, it felt erotic, never having a man take this kind of care with you before. His lips move higher, curving with your leg until he’s hovering above your pussy. “You’re wet already baby?” His voice is cocky and if it weren’t for the heat of his breath making your mind foggy, you would’ve called him out on it. He gives the wet spot on your panties a shy kiss. The act has you letting out a quiet moan, sounding louder from the echo of the bathroom. He slips a finger behind the cotton of your underwear and tugs at it while looking up at you. “Can I take these off?” He asks, finger still tugging the fabric dangerously close to where you need him the most. “Yes.” It’s breathy but it gets the job done because Hugh moves his head up, grabbing the top of the fabric with his teeth. He starts to tug your panties down, using one of his hands to help the other side. You lift your body slightly as Hugh pulls them down farther. When they’re all the way off, Hugh sits back with your panties hanging from the big toothy smile he's wearing. The sight was definitely going to be what you pictured the next time you touched yourself. 

“Oh fuck me..” He grabs your panties from his teeth and slides them into his back pocket. “Mhm. not yet, baby. Wanna eat your pretty pussy first.” He leans back in between your legs, lips ghosting over your heat. “So perfect.” He whispers as he kisses each pussy lip three times before finally kissing your clit. “Mhmm, please Hugh.” His tongue slides from your opening to your bud teasingly slow. You can feel his beard scratching the sensitive skin but it only adds to the pleasure. He swirls his tongue around your clit a few times before sucking it into his lips, the feeling causes you to jerk your hips. His hands, that were gently holding your ankles, moved up to hold your hips down. His mouth moves down to your opening, tongue plunging in and out a few times before moving back up to your clit. You hadn’t even noticed that one of his hands moved from your hip until you felt one of his fingers dip into you slowly. He curls the finger and moves it back and forth at an unexpectedly fast pace. Before you can adjust to it, he’s adding another finger and it all becomes too much. “Fuck..I’m gonna cum.” Your words are mixed with moans. He doesn't let up, his tongue and fingers speeding up and it has you cumming hard around his fingers, loud moans feel the air. He gives your pussy one last kiss before leaning back and removing his fingers. When you can fully see his face, it is a sight to see. His salt and pepper beard is covered in your slick, lips glossy. 

“Want you to see how good you taste darling.” He says while moving his two fingers to your lips. You open your mouth and stick out your tongue, taking his fingers in your mouth slowly. Hugh hisses as you suck around his fingers, tongue swirling around each one.  Once you're confident that they’re clean, you grab his wrist and take his fingers out of your mouth with a pop. “You still gonna fuck me old man or did you already cum in your pants?” You joke with him. He stands up, both knees popping in the process. Just as you're about to laugh and make fun of him some more, he grabs you off of the counter to stand you up. He turns you around and bends you over the counter. “You keep talking like you weren’t the one staring at me for an hour before asking me to fuck you.” He goes to undo his belt buckle and you shiver at the sound. You're looking back at him through the mirror. “Whatever.” You reach over to your clutch and open it, grabbing a condom. You reach back and hold it back to Hugh. “Here, put this on.” He grabs it with a questioning look. “Why were you carrying condoms?” You roll your eyes and rest your head in your hands, elbows propped up. “Can you mind your business and fuck me already. I’m getting bored.” You were lying right through your teeth. You were far from bored but you wanted to keep the whole ‘hard to get’ game going a little longer.

You watch him open the condom and see his arms move as he rolls it down his cock. As bad as you wished you could see him fully but it was kind of exciting- not knowing what you were about to get. “How do you want me baby?” He asks, looking at you through the mirror. You get a small glimpse of his dick as he slaps it across your ass. “Give me all you got daddy.” He smirks and shakes his head at the name. He lines up his member with your entrance and slides in slowly. Once he’s bottomed out, he doesn’t wait long before he’s slamming back into you. The stretch stings slightly and you hadn’t expected him to be so big. He slaps your ass hard and you yelp in response. You drop your head down at the pleasure. “Nuh uh. Look at me while I fuck you baby.” You raise your head to look at Hugh through the mirror again. “That’s it. Look at how pretty you look getting fucked by an old man.” You couldn’t help but listen to him. Hugh was fucking you dumb and you couldn’t think straight. His balls hitting your clit was what sent you over the edge for a second time. “Please don’t stop Hugh mhmmm fuck baby. I’m cumming, please don’t stop, baby.” Your moans match the rhythm of his hips, each thrust knocking the air out of you with its force. “Just like that sweet girl. Fuck not gonna last much longer.” Even after your high, the pleasure continues as Hugh chases his own. You push your hips back, meeting his thrust. The act makes Hugh moan. “Mhm, I'm gonna cum baby.” His hands squeeze your hips, thrusts getting sloppy as he cums. 

The two of you stay quiet as you both freshen up and try to make it less noticeable that you two left to have sex. You push yourself up onto the counter, sitting lazily as you watch Hugh toss his hair around. “Can you kiss me again?” You ask Hugh. He smiles and walks over to stand in between your legs. He grabs your cheeks and kisses you. “Mhm. You're a good kisser.” The compliment is sincere. You could kiss his lips for hours if he’d let you. He hums. “So, are you gonna let me take you out now?” You look in his eyes and smile. “Hugh we can’t. This was fun and it was good sex but that’s all it was.” “Why can’t we?” He’s quick with his words. “It’s just not practical Hugh. I think you're handsome and you seem like a sweet guy but I'm too young for you. The press would tear us apart quicker than we got together.” You explain. “Fuck the press. Let me take you out and get to know you at least.” You sigh. “I’m sorry Hugh. I can’t.” You offer him a small smile. “I’m not gonna stop trying. You’re too good to lose.” He kisses your cheek. “I should get back out there. I have a friend waiting for me.” He steps back, letting you hop down from the counter. “Bye Hugh Jackman.” You give him a small peck on the lips before leaving the bathroom. 

— 

A few weeks later, you were on set for the newest film you were working on. You’d just arrived an hour earlier and were sent to your trailer to get ready for the first scene. When you walked through the door, you were greeted with a bouquet of wildflowers and a note that read:

I can’t stop thinking about you. -H.J (xxx) xxx-xxxx

tag list: @prettycoolgirl, @nonamevenus, @godlypresley, @pedroscurls, @evasmlp, @bluetimeombre, @sue8724, @princessanglophile, @kellyxo1, @ccmoonshine, @hughverine, @chronicallybubbly, @realhotgirlshitah, @aurlavr, @almosthumongousfunsblog, @wolviesgirl, @flirtyjen, @lilgrinchbitch, @majesticalcocoa, @liamdasimp, @needz1nk, @squishyfruitloop, @afra-ww, @veru-boom

[vin-taege]

Hi! I loved your awkward chishiya flirting sooo much <3 The way you write is so in character even with him being nervous about showing affection. Can you write him being completely oblivious he’s liked yn the whole time they’ve been through the games; he thought he was just protecting them out of trying to be a better person until Kuina is like you moron you’re clearly in love w them!!

And he’s like oh fuck, what are feelings?? I have them?? His thought process as he tries to deny it and then him having some awkward interactions w yn bc he doesn’t know how to act now he’s aware he likes her and then is desperately trying to flirt with no idea how to at all

Tokens of Appreciation

Summary: Chishiya tells himself that he sees you only as a friend, despite doing his best to give you a gift.

Genre: fluff

Pairing: reader x chishiya

Words: 2.4k

Note: I tweaked this a little to show more of him being in denial and still in the middle of processing it ^^ I didn't want it to be too close to the other awkward flirting fic, but I hope you still like it! Also god, I;m so sorry it took more than a year ; O; Good news is that I'm almost done with my thesis, so I have a bit more time to write :DD

Chishiya set the screwdriver down with a frustrated sigh. The music box sat in front of him, open yet still without song. He saw this on the day of the six of clubs game. The car that was supposed to pick them up got a flat tire and stranded them for a good hour. As much as he hated the militants for their incompetence, he was grateful that he had extra time to scavenge around the nearby shops. It was in one of the metalwork stalls where he found it.

It was fairly light, small enough that you could hold it when you brought both hands together. The outside looked like a small pot, with the lid having scalloped edges. Ornate, gold vines swirled around the sides of the box, leading up to the front. At the center of it was a teardrop-shaped gemstone that refracted prisms under light. Inside was a small rabbit instead of a typical ballerina. It posed with its arms up mid-dance, pointy ears curved back as it looked up.

That was what made Chishiya decide that this was the perfect gift for you. At the beginning of your friendship—before you had worn down his walls with “incessant” conversation—you had off-handedly mentioned a memory of your childhood toy.

“Oh, look at that!” you picked up the small piece of candy. The packaging still boasted its classic colors of red, blue, white, and black. Turning around, you held it out to Chishiya. “I used to eat this all the time when I was a kid.”

He wrinkled his nose in disgust. This was the ninth room around the Beach that you’ve ‘investigated’—a fancy word you liked to use instead of ‘snooped around.’ “You don’t know how long that’s been there. Plus, you’ll get cavities.”

“Candy doesn’t expire,” you stuck your tongue out at him, swiftly unwrapping the sweet and popping it in your mouth. You smoothed out the wrapper, particularly the area around the illustrated rabbit.

“Somehow, I don’t think that’s true—”

“He looks like the bunny plush I had.” Chishiya knit his eyebrows in confusion before glancing at the wrapper. He shrugged, feigning indifference.

“All rabbits look the same.”

“No, idiot. This one has pointy ears instead of rounded ones.”

“What’s that?” Kuina’s voice nearly made him knock over the entire thing. He flinched, throwing a blanket over his project. Clearing his throat, he stood up and narrowed his eyes at the girl.

“What did I tell you about knocking?”

Despite his small frame blocking the table from view, Kuina side-stepped around him, swiftly pulling the cloth right off. He hissed, moving to take the music box, but Kuina was faster, swiping it off the table and bringing it up to her eye level.

“Wow,” she enunciated, dragging the word. “This is for them, isn’t it?”

“No,” he tried not to stutter. He reached for it before Kuina held it above him. Her eyes were glued to the meticulous details. “If you drop that, I will kill you next game and make it look like an accident.”

She chortled, throwing her head back. Her loudness grew on him—is what he always told himself. Being his only friend when the Beach was only starting to form, he learned quickly how to tolerate Kuina’s more bubbly personality.

“What’s it for? Their birthday coming up?”

“No. I’m just making sure all our pieces are in place.” Kuina let him nab the item back. She watched as he wrapped it in the blanket, tucking it safely back into a drawer. 

“You totally like her,” she snorted.

“No, I don’t!” It came out too fast, too loudly. Chishiya’s face was starting to redden. His lips were pressed in a thin line, eyes downcast. It took a moment for him to collect himself. “We need her for the plan.”

“Yeah, right. It’s been half a year. Whatever long game you’re playing is over,” she smirked at him, plopping on his bed. “If anything, you’re the one getting played.”

“I don’t like her that way,” he crossed his arms defensively.

“Keep telling yourself that, lover boy,” Kuina chuckled, throwing a pillow at him. Chishiya swatted it away, face beet-red.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Call you what, lover boy?”

“Kuina!”

Three soft knocks interrupted their banter. Chishiya froze when you opened the door, slipping in with a mischievous grin. Your arms were behind your back, hands hidden from their view. A faint crinkling gave Chishiya a hint as to what you were holding. 

You stepped towards him, making him instinctively block the drawer the music box was in. Your grin spread wider, making your cheeks look unbearably adorable. Wait, did he really think that?

“I have something for you,” you said almost teasingly. You thrust your hand to his chest, pressing a package of biscuits on him. He wasn’t religious, but he prayed that you couldn’t feel his heartbeat thrumming out his rib cage.

Glancing down, he gave the biscuits a curious look-over. The wrapper was pink and white, with small cartoon strawberries spread around it. Attempting to take it from you gently, his fingers grazed over the back of your hand, flustering you both. Quickly, you whipped your head towards Kuina, chucking her the other item.

She caught the lighter with ease, excitedly flicking it on. Kuina was certain the militants threw it out after the pool fire incident. Totally not your trio’s fault. “Woah! Where’d you get these?”

“I was in Tatta’s storage space,” you beamed proudly.

Chishiya’s blood curdled. He squeezed the biscuits, though still careful not to break them. Shifting his weight to one foot, he scrunched his face in distaste. “What were you doing with Tatta?”

“Nothing, we were just hanging out. Ann dragged him into the hallway for a quick conversation so I had time to ‘investigate,’” you motioned with air quotes.

“What are you hanging out with him for?” The blunt words left his mouth before he could process them. 

His heart shrivelled a little when your smile faded. Taken aback, you clasped your hands, suddenly self-conscious. “I thought he was nice and making another friend around here didn’t seem like a bad idea.”

“Well, what if he’s just another sleaze like Niragi? You know how some of the men slobber like dogs here. And you’re in a closed space with just him? Just the two of you in a room? Together? Do you know how stupid that is? What if something happened and Kuina and I were in this room and we couldn’t hear you and—”

“What Chishiya is saying—” Kuina spoke over him, sending him a sharp glare despite her pinched smile. “—is that we just want you to be careful around here. I think Tatta is a fun guy too, but don’t let your guard down that easily okay?”

You nodded wordlessly, avoiding Chishiya’s eyes. Unbeknownst to you, his look softened, fingers releasing their tight grip on the biscuits. He slouched, silently berating himself for sounding so harsh, especially after you’ve just given him a gift. Oh god, you gave him a gift! He looked back at the cookies, strawberry-flavored no doubt. Perhaps it was your attention to detail that chipped at his armor. The way you remembered how he took two teaspoons of sugar with his tea and how you’d sometimes take his hoodie after a rough game and bring it back smelling of fabric softener.

Just normal things good friends would do for each other. Because that’s what you were—good friends.

“Chishiya?”

“What?” He blinked slowly, glancing at Kuina through silver hair framing his face. 

“I said I’m gonna get us drinks from the bar. You sound like you need it.” She stood up, motioning for you to take her place on the bed. You shot her a small smile, though your mood has obviously been dampened. 

Kuina passed near Chishiya, lowering her voice to whisper, “Fix your mess.”

When the door shut with a soft click, it was quiet for a few awkward moments. The room felt like a held breath, with Chishiya still standing, holding the biscuits like an idiot, while you were sitting on his bed, regarding him a huge eye sore in the middle of the spacious hotel room. Being a high-profile diamonds player bought him certain luxuries, despite how unnecessarily flashy he deemed them. 

“I know you’re just looking out for me, but you really could be nicer sometimes.” He almost didn’t catch what you said, your voice soft. “I just wanted to get you something nice.”

He sighed, more so at his own stupidity. He pushed himself off the drawer and sat beside you, your knees touching. Pinching the corner of the wrapper, he ripped the packaging open, angling the biscuits towards you. Your knee tensed beside him, making guilt claw at his stomach more.

“Take one,” he said, almost demandingly. You huffed, gingerly taking a piece. It was a small, pillow-shaped shell. You bit into it, bringing your hand back to look at the strawberry filling inside. Chishiya hummed in approval as soon as the sweet cream hit his tongue.

Wordlessly, you shared the biscuits—his own form of apology. You scooted closer to him, a silent act of forgiveness he quickly picked up on. Always the clever man, yet he could never figure himself out.

“I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you. Anyone with eyes can see how beautiful you are. If anyone here tried anything on you, I’d have to put rat poison in their alcohol. Do you know how troublesome that is?” he wrinkled his nose, pointedly munching.

A grin crept into your face. Your eyes flitted towards his face, dark brown eyes meeting yours. “You think I’m beautiful?”

Chishiya was stunned for a second. Blood rushed to his cheeks and the furrow in his brows deepened. He stammered, “No. No! That’s not what I meant. I mean that I’m just worried about you!”

You brought your face just a tad bit closer to his. “You worry about me?”

“No, no! I mean, you’re just a good ally and I don’t have any other strong feelings about you. I’m doing this for the sake of our alliance—”

He didn’t notice as you took the last biscuit, gingerly pushing it against his lips. He froze, eyes wide as he took in your appearance. An orange glow from the setting sun wrapped around your silhouette. You looked heavenly, like an angel beckoning him to the next life. Despite all logic screaming at him, he would gladly take your hand and go wherever that may be. 

You pushed the biscuit past his lips, the soft pair almost chasing after your fingertip as you pulled away. Curling your finger, you wiped the corner of his mouth with the edge of your knuckles. His breath stilled in his chest.

Chishiya leaned closer, your pull towards him magnetic. Shakily, he brought a hand up, about to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. He’s seen this move once before, during a promotional commercial for a drama. He was reviewing for his finals at the time, taking only a few seconds to stare coldly at his roommate because of how loud the TV was. Evidently, he never put it into practice before.

“Ow!” you jolted back, hands cupping your face. Somehow, despite his brilliant mind, he accidentally poked you in the eye. You grit your teeth in pain, globs of tears running down your cheek. 

“Shit, I’m sorry!” He tried prying your eyes away from your face, using his free arm to wrap around your back. “I’m so sorry. Shit. Don’t rub it, it’ll get worse. Come here.”

Assisting you through your blurry vision, he managed to walk you to his bathroom. He turned the faucet on, making you bend over the sink. Forcing stillness into his hand, he caught the water, gently splashing it against your reddening eye. You hissed, jolting back at the contact, though a firm hand on your back kept you in place.

“I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean to.” The distress was evident in his voice. You’ve never seen him in such shambles before, not even during games where he was at the brink of death.

“I know, ‘Shiya. It’s okay,” you managed to smile at him. He wiped your eyes with a soft towel, bringing it down for a second to gently grip your chin. He nudged your head up, only enough for him to check on your eye. He let out a deep sigh before pressing the towel back. At least the pain has died down a bit now. “How bad is it?”

“It’s not fatal.”

You snorted, hitting him lightly on the shoulder. His lips twitched almost into a grin, though he was still slouched over in embarrassment. “I can’t believe this is the thanks I get for feeding you.”

“I… I-I didn’t mean to. Honestly!” He shoved his other hand into his hoodie pocket. Suddenly, the floor was the most interesting thing in the room. You chuckled lightly at his antics. There was something so boyish about the way he stood, almost as if he wanted his hoodie to swallow him whole.

You brought your hand up, wrapping it around his on the towel. His cheeks heated up, though still defiant in meeting your gaze. You stroked the back of his hand with your thumb, surprised that he hasn’t pulled away yet.

“I’m sorry I poked your eye. I was just trying to…” he trailed off. How was he even going to explain himself out of this one? “There was dirt on your face. You should take a bath from time to time.”

“I do take baths!” you exclaimed, swatting at him again. You jabbed a finger to his chest, tone riddled with tease. “You’re just so obsessed with me.”

He finally allowed himself to smile, the smile that made everything feel normal again. At that moment, you weren’t players in the Borderland fighting for your life every other day. You were just two friends, for now. Chishiya is a tough nut to crack, but between your laughter sounding like tinkling bells and the euphoric buzz he gets from being around you, he’d be able to sort himself out. He just needs to take it one step at a time, starting with making that music box sing for you again. 

Because that's what good friends do. God, he was such a good friend.

Back in the main room, the entrance door swung open, followed by the sound of glass bottles clinking against each other. Kuina proudly declared, “I got us the stuff!”

“Did you bring ice?” Chishiya called out to her.

“Of course!” Even from the bathroom, you could hear her huff.

“Good, because we need a bunch of it here.”

[tryingonametaphor]

Why Will Byers?

An analysis and theory on why Henry/Vecna targeted Will first in season 1 and his plans for Will in season 5

‼️Contains The First Shadow (TFS) spoilers so please proceed with caution.‼️

This is going to be a little long but I’ve tried to give as much context as I can without actually being able to show snippets from the stage play. This is my interpretation of everything that went down as a member of the audience and not as someone who has read up any theories about TFS before. To understand why Henry took Will first in 1983, we have to start with -

Henry and Joyce

From all the times I’ve watched TFS, the one thing that has stuck with me is the final conversation Henry has with Joyce. It’s just before his last confrontation with Patty Newby and before he joins Brenner for good. Joyce is the last person (who doesn’t know about Henry’s powers) that he canonically talks to.

Throughout the entire play Joyce, Hopper, and Bob are investigating the animals dying at the hands of Henry and come to the conclusion that Victor Creel has been the one doing the killing. They get so close to solving the case. In her last conversation with Henry, Joyce tries to comfort him by saying that Victor will pay for his crimes - which makes Henry laugh because she’s so close yet so far from the truth. He gets a little frustrated and says something along the lines of “You don’t get it. But someday you will.” (edit 28/9: the exact dialogue is [Henry: you’re too nice. that is how they’ll get you. you have to learn to do anything you can to protect the ones you love] [Joyce: I don’t understand.] [Henry: You will.]) The next time we see Henry make a reappearance in Joyce’s life is during -

The Vanishing of Will Byers

Will is taken into the Upside Down (UD) by Henry. It’s not even a question anymore. All of the context clues from 1x1 lead us to believe that Will’s kidnapping was not by a demogorgon. Will - a 12 year old - miraculously survives a week in the upside down with no food or water. Will is even around the demogorgon a few times in the Upside Down. (Joyce communicating with Will through the lights and then the demogorgon coming after her immediately).

Barb dies the night she is taken but Will stays alive and also somehow manages to talk to Joyce through the wall. Joyce is led exactly to where Will was held at the end of s1 and he makes it out alive. It’s almost as if Henry knew all along that Joyce was the most capable of never giving up on finding her son. Like Henry took Will Byers because he was Joyce’s son. And like he was giving her just enough to know that Will was alive. Even when Joyce and Hopper find him at the end in a state of near death, he’s not injured by a creature. He was being prepared for the next stage of Vecna’s plan -

The Possession of Will Byers

The origins of Henry’s powers happen as such - As a kid, he is transported into the UD (originally coined Dimension X by the government) for a few hours because he touched something he wasn’t meant to touch. During his time in there, he came in contact with the Mind Flayer (MF). According to TFS this is the point in his life when he started getting “corrupted”. Brenner’s dad - who was one of the first people to enter dimension X - had mutated blood after but no powers. Henry was the first person to come in contact with the MF and it’s highly likely he got his powers because of this (This would also track considering how most of the party has been in the UD now but show no signs of having powers). The MF controls Henry for the rest of TFS and Henry grows more power hungry the more he kills.

In S2, Henry presumably sends the MF after Will - who has now had a year to heal from the events of 1983. Will is the only other person in all of ST to have had direct contact with the MF and survived it. Henry didn’t hesitate to kill Billy in S3, but he always gives everyone just enough to keep Will safe. Will himself tells Owens in S2 that the MF wants to kill everyone except him. Will once again survives the entire ordeal and is given a “break” for the next 2 seasons. Except I don’t believe he’s been just given a break. I think Will is -

Henry’s Sleeper Agent.

Ready to awaken in s5. I undoubtedly think that Will is going to have powers. And I don’t think they’re going to be the same as Henry and El. El and the other lab kids get their powers directly from Henry. Will’s powers will be directly from the MF like Henry. I believe this has been Henry’s plan all along and it’s further affirmed by what he tells Will in the recent VR game. That Will will be the key to Henry being able to infiltrate his friends’ minds. Jamie Campbell-Bower also mentioned during the S4 press that to get in character, he set up a display with all of Henry’s victims and targets’ faces on his wall(?), and Will was in the center.

Henry is going to use his connection with Will sneakily and midway through S5 he’s going to awaken Will’s powers (maybe in ep4 - which is said to be titled ‘Sorcerer’ and has young Will in it). Henry is going to try and manipulate his way into making an ally out of Will, and it’s not going to work because -

Will is the Perfect Character Foil.

Will is everything Henry could have been if he had a better support system. He is the perfect character foil. Unlike Henry, Will has a mother who loves him unconditionally and more importantly, believes him. Unlike Henry, the person who Will loves the most (the Patty to Will’s Henry: Mike) is going to love him back and stay by his side all season. No one is going to force them to be apart the way Henry was told to stay away from Patty. Will is not going to be easily swayed even though Henry has spent years crafting him into the perfect soldier. Sure, Henry has seen him heartbroken and sad, but that comes nowhere near to the amount of love and support Will is going to get from his people next season. And they’re going to quite literally defeat Vecna with the power of love and friendship. After that, Will Byers is getting the happy ending that Henry could have gotten.